CATHEDRALS AND CLOISTERS OF THE SOUTH OF FRANCE [Illustration: _Rodez. _ "Sheer and straight the pillars rise, . .. And arch after arch is lost onthe shadows of the narrow vaulting of the side-aisle. "] CATHEDRALS_and_ CLOISTERSOF THESOUTH OF FRANCE BY ELISE WHITLOCK ROSE WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHS BY VIDA HUNT FRANCIS _IN TWO VOLUMES_ _VOLUME I. _ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONSNEW YORK AND LONDONThe Knickerbocker Press1906 Copyright, 1906byG. P. PUTNAM'S SONS PREFACE. For years the makers of this book have spent the summer time inwandering about the French country; led here by the fame of some oldmonument, or there by an incident of history. They have found the real, unspoiled France, often unexplored by any except the French themselves, and practically unknown to foreigners, even to the ubiquitous maker ofguide-books. For weeks together they have travelled without meeting anEnglish-speaking person. It is, therefore, not surprising that they wereunable to find, in any convenient form in English, a book telling of theCathedrals of the South which was at once accurate and complete. For theCathedrals of that country are monuments not only of architecture andits history, but of the history of peoples, the psychology of thechristianising and unifying of the barbarian and the Gallo-Roman, andmany things besides, epitomised perhaps in the old words, "the strugglebetween the world, the flesh, and the devil. " In French, works onCathedrals are numerous and exhaustive; but either so voluminous as tobe unpractical except for the specialist--as the volumes ofViollet-le-Duc, --or so technical as to make each Cathedral seem one inan endless, monotonous procession, differing from the others only insize, style, and age. This is distinctly unfair to these old churcheswhich have personalities and idiosyncrasies as real as those ofindividuals. It has been the aim of the makers of this book tointroduce, in photograph and in story, --not critically or exhaustively, but suggestively and accurately, --the Cathedral of the Mediterraneanprovinces as it exists to-day with its peculiar characteristics ofarchitecture and history. They have described only churches which theyhave seen, they have verified every fact and date where suchverification was possible, and have depended on local tradition onlywhere that was all which remained to tell of the past; and they willfeel abundantly repaid for travel, research, and patient exploration oftowers, crypts, and archives if the leisurely traveller on pleasure bentshall find in these volumes but a hint of the interest and fascinationwhich the glorious architecture, the history, and the unmatched climateof the Southland can awaken. For unfailing courtesy and untiring interest, for free access to privateas well as to ecclesiastical libraries, for permission to photograph andcopy, for unbounding hospitality and the retelling of many an oldlegend, their most grateful thanks are due to the Catholic clergy, fromArchbishop to Curé and Vicar. For rare old bits of information, forhistorical verification, and for infinite pains in accuracy of printedmatter, they owe warm thanks to Mrs. Wilbur Rose, to Miss Frances Kyle, and to Mrs. William H. Shelmire, Jr. For criticism and training in theart of photographing they owe no less grateful acknowledgment to Mr. John G. Bullock and Mr. Charles R. Pancoast. E. W. R. V. H. F. CONTENTS. PAGETHE SOUTH OF FRANCE I. THE SOUTH OF FRANCE 3 II. ARCHITECTURE IN PROVENCE, LANGUEDOC, AND GASCONY 29 PROVENCE I. THE CATHEDRALS OF THE SEA 55 Marseilles--Toulon--Fréjus--Antibes--Nice II. CATHEDRALS OF THE HILL-TOWNS 72 Carpentras--Digne--Forcalquier--Vence--Grasse III. RIVER-SIDE CATHEDRALS 101 Avignon--Vaison--Arles--Entrevaux--Sisteron IV. CATHEDRALS OF THE VALLEYS 178 Orange--Cavaillon--Apt--Riez--Senez--Aix LANGUEDOC I. CATHEDRALS OF THE CITIES 237 Nîmes--Montpellier--Béziers--Narbonne--Perpignan-- Carcassonne--Castres--Toulouse--Montauban Illustrations PageRODEZ _Frontispiece_ "Sheer and straight the pillars rise, . .. And arch after arch is lost on the shadows of the narrow vaulting of the side-aisle. " "CARCASSONNE, THE INVULNERABLE" 5 "THE TOWER OF AN EARLY MARITIME CATHEDRAL"--_Agde_ 10 "A NAVE OF THE EARLIER STYLE"--_Arles_ 15 "A NAVE OF THE LATER STYLE"--_Rodez_ 19 "THE DELICATE CHOIR OF SAINT-NAZAIRE"--_Carcassonne_ 23 "A CLOISTER OF THE SOUTH"--_Elne_ 27 "A ROMANESQUE AISLE"--_Arles_ 31 "THE SCULPTURED PORTALS OF SAINT-TROPHIME"--_Arles_ 33 "A GOTHIC AISLE"--_Mende_ 35 "CORRESPONDING DIFFERENCES IN STYLE"--_Carcassonne_ 39 "FORTIFIED GOTHIC BUILT IN BRICK"--_Albi_ 43 "A CHURCH FORTRESS"--_Maguelonne_ 45 "STATELY GOTHIC SPLENDOUR"--_Condom_ 47 ENTREVAUX 52 "People gather around the mail-coach as it makes its daily halt before the drawbridge. " "THE NEW CATHEDRAL"--_Marseilles_ 57 "THE DESECRATION OF THE LITTLE CLOISTER"--_Fréjus_ 65 "THE MILITARY OMEN--THE TOWER"--_Antibes_ 70 "THE INTERIOR OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-BOURG"--_Digne_ 77 "THE INTERIOR HAS NEITHER CLERESTORY NOR TRIFORIUM"--_Digne_ 81 "A LARGE SQUARE TOWER SERVED AS A LOOKOUT"--_Forcalquier_ 86 "A SUGGESTIVE VIEW FROM THE SIDE-AISLE"--_Forcalquier_ 87 "THE OLD ROUND ARCH OF THE BISHOP'S PALACE"--_Vence_ 92 "THE LOW, BROAD ARCHES, AND THE GREAT SUPPORTING PILLARS"--_Vence_ 93 "HIGHER THAN THEM ALL STANDS THE CATHEDRAL"--_Grasse_ 97 "THE PONT D'AVIGNON" 99 "THE INTERIOR HAS A SHALLOW, GRACEFULLY BALUSTRADEDBALCONY"--_Avignon_ 103 "THE PORCH, SO CLASSIC IN DETAIL"--AVIGNON 107 From an old print "NOTRE-DAME-DES-DOMS"--_Avignon_ 111 "THE TOWER OF PHILIP THE FAIR"--_Villeneuve-les-Avignon_ 114 "THE GREAT PALACE"--_Avignon_ 119 "ON THE BANKS OF A PLEASANT LITTLE RIVER IS VAISON" 123 "THE RUINED CASTLE OF THE COUNTS OF TOULOUSE"--_Vaison_ 125 "THE WHOLE APSE-END"--_Vaison_ 127 "THE SOUTH WALL, WHICH IS CLEARLY SEEN FROM THE ROAD"--_Vaison_ 129 "TWO BAYS OPEN TO THE GROUND"--_Vaison_ 131 "THE GREAT PIERS AND SMALL FIRM COLUMNS"--_Vaison_ 133 "IN THE MIDST OF THE WEALTH OF ANTIQUE RUINS"--_Arles_ 135 "THE FAÇADE OF SAINT-TROPHIME"--_Arles_ 137 "RIGHT DETAIL--THE PORTAL"--_Arles_ 141 "LEFT DETAIL--THE PORTAL"--_Arles_ 145 "THROUGH THE CLOISTER ARCHES"--_Arles_ 147 "A NAVE OF GREAT AND SLENDER HEIGHT"--_Arles_ 149 "THE BEAUTY OF THE WHOLE"--_Arles_ 151 "THE GOTHIC WALK"--Cloister--_Arles_ 153 "THIS INTERIOR"--_Entrevaux_ 156 "THE ROMANESQUE WALK"--Cloister--_Arles_ 157 "ONE OF THE THREE SMALL DRAWBRIDGES"--_Entrevaux_ 159 "THE PORTCULLIS"--_Entrevaux_ 160 "A FORT THAT PERCHES ON A SHARP PEAK"--_Entrevaux_ 161 "A TRUE 'PLACE D'ARMES'"--_Entrevaux_ 163 "THE LONG LINE OF WALLS THAT ZIGZAG DOWN THE HILLSIDE"--_Entrevaux_ 165 "THE CHURCH TOWER STOOD OUT AGAINST THE ROCKY PEAK"--_Entrevaux_ 169 "THE CATHEDRAL IS NEAR THE HEAVY ROUND TOWERS OFTHE OUTER RAMPARTS"--_Sisteron_ 172 "THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE DURANCE"--_Sisteron_ 173 "ENTRANCES TO TWO NARROW STREETS"--_Sisteron_ 176 "IT WAS A LOW-VAULTED, SOMBRE LITTLE CLOISTER"--_Cavaillon_ 182 "THE CATHEDRAL'S TOWER AND TURRET"--_Cavaillon_ 187 "THE MAIN BODY OF THE CHURCH"--_Apt_ 191 "THE VIRGIN AND SAINT ANNE--BY BENZONI"--_Apt_ 194 "SAINT-MARTIN-DE-BRÔMES WITH ITS HIGH SLIM TOWER" 197 "THE FORTIFIED MONASTERY OF THE TEMPLARS"--_near Gréoux_ 199 "THE TOWER OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-SIÈGE"--_Riez_ 201 "NOTHING COULD BE MORE QUAINTLY OLD AND MODEST THANTHE BAPTISTERY"--_Riez_ 202 "BETWEEN THE COLUMNS AN ALTAR HAS BEEN PLACED"--Baptistery, _Riez_ 203 "THE BEAUTIFUL GRANITE COLUMNS"--_Riez_ 207 "THE MAIL-COACH OF SENEZ" 211 "THE OPEN SQUARE"--_Senez_ 213 "THE PALACE OF ITS PRELATES"--_Senez_ 214 "THE CATHEDRAL"--_Senez_ 215 "THE CATHEDRAL"--_Senez_ 218 "TAPESTRIES BEAUTIFY THE CHOIR-WALLS"--_Senez_ 219 "BETWEEN BRANCHES FULL OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS--THECHURCH AS THE CURÉ SAW IT"--_Senez_ 221 "THE SOUTH AISLE"--_Aix_ 224 "THE ROMANESQUE PORTAL"--_Aix_ 225 "THE CLOISTER"--_Aix_ 227 "THE CATHEDRAL"--_Aix_ 231 "AN AMPHITHEATRE WHICH RIVALS THE ART OF THE COLISEUM"--_Nîmes_ 238 "THE GENERAL EFFECT IS SOMEWHAT THAT OF APORT-COCHÈRE"--_Montpellier_ 244 "THE FINEST VIEW IS THAT OF THE APSE"--_Montpellier_ 245 "THE CLOCK TOWER IS VERY SQUARE AND THICK"--_Béziers_ 248 "THE QUAINT AND PRETTY FOUNTAIN"--_Béziers_ 250 "THE DOOR OF THE CLOISTER"--_Narbonne_ 255 "THIS IS A PLACE OF DESERTED SOLITUDE"--_Narbonne_ 257 "THESE FLYING-BUTTRESSES GIVE TO THE EXTERIOR ITSMOST CURIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL EFFECT"--_Narbonne_ 261 "ALL THE OLD BUILDINGS OF THE CITY ARE OF SPANISHORIGIN"--_Perpignan_ 265 "THE UNFINISHED FAÇADE"--_Perpignan_ 267 "THE STONY STREET OF THE HILLSIDE"--_Carcassonne_ 269 "THE ANCIENT CROSS"--_Carcassonne_ 272 "OFTEN TOO LITTLE TIME IS SPENT UPON THE NAVE"--_Carcassonne_ 275 "THE CHOIR IS OF THE XIV CENTURY"--_Carcassonne_ 279 "THE FAÇADE, STRAIGHT AND MASSIVE"--_Carcassonne_ 281 "PERSPECTIVE OF THE ROMANESQUE"--_Carcassonne_ 283 "THE NAVE OF THE XIII CENTURY IS AN AISLE-LESS CHAMBER, LOW AND BROADLY ARCHED"--_Toulouse_ 291 "THE PRESENT CATHEDRAL IS A COMBINATION OF STYLES"--_Toulouse_ 294 LIST OF WORKS CONSULTED. BAYET. _Précis de l'Histoire de l'Art. _ BODLEY. _France. _ BOURG. _Viviers, ses Monuments et son Histoire. _ CHOISY. _Histoire de l'Architecture. _ COUGNY. _L'Art au Moyen Age. _ COOK. _Old Provence. _ CORROYER. _L'Architecture romane. _ " _L'Architecture gothique. _ COX. _The Crusades. _ DARCEL. _Le Mouvement archéologique relatif au Moyen Age. _ DE LAHONDÈS. _L'Église Saint-Etienne, Cathédrale de Toulouse. _ DEMPSTER. _Maritime Alps. _ DUCÉRÉ. _Bayonne historique et pittoresque. _ DURUY. _Histoire de France. _ FERREE. _Articles on French Cathedrals appearing in the "ArchitecturalRecord. _" GARDÈRE. _Saint-Pierre de Condom et ses Constructeurs. _ GOULD. _In Troubadour Land. _ GUIZOT. _Histoire de France. _ " _Histoire de la Civilisation en France. _ HALLAM. _The Middle Ages. _ HARE. _South-eastern France. _ " _South-western France. _ _History of Joanna of Naples, Queen of Sicily_ (_published_ 1824). HUNNEWELL. _Historical Monuments of France. _ JAMES. _A Little Tour through France. _ _Le Moyen Age_ (_avec notice par Roger-Milès_). LARNED. _Churches and Castles of Mediæval France. _ LASSERRE, L'ABBÉ. _Recherches historiques sur la Ville d'Alet et sonancien Diocèse. _ LECHEVALLIER CHEVIGNARD. _Les Styles français. _ MACGIBBON. _The Architecture of Provence and the Riviera. _ MARLAVAGNE. _Histoire de la Cathédrale de Rodez. _ MARTIN. _Histoire de France. _ MASSON. _Louis IX and the XIII Century. _ " _Francis I and the XVI Century. _ MÉRIMÉE. _Études sur les Arts au Moyen Age. _ MICHELET. _Histoire de France. _ MICHELET AND MASSON. _Mediævalism in France. _ _Monographie de la Cathédrale d'Albi. _ MONTALEMBERT. _Les Moines d'Occident. _ MILMAN. _History of Latin Christianity. _ PALUSTRE. _L'Architecture de la Renaissance. _ PASTOR. _Lives of the Popes. _ PENNELL. _Play in Provence. _ QUICHERAT. _Mélanges d'Archéologie au Moyen Age. _ RENAN. _Études sur la Politique religieuse du Règne de Philippe le Bel. _ RÉVOIL. _Architecture romane du Midi de la France. _ ROSIERES. _Histoire de l'Architecture. _ SCHNASSE. _Geschichte der bildenden Künste. _ (_Volume III, etc. _) SENTETZ. _Sainte-Marie d'Auch. _ SORBETS. _Histoire d'Aire-sur-l'Adour. _ SOULIÉ. _Interesting old novels whose scenes are laid in the South ofFrance_:-- " "_Le Comte de Toulouse. _" " "_Le Vicomte de Béziers. _" " "_Le Château des Pyrénées_, " _etc. _ STEVENSON. _Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes. _ TAINE. _The Ancient Regime. _ " _Journeys through France. _ " _Origins of Contemporary France. _ " _Tour through the Pyrénées. _ _'Twixt France and Spain. _ VIOLLET-LE-DUC. _Histoire d'une Cathédrale et d'un Hôtel-de-Ville. _ _Entretiens sur l'Architecture. _ _Dictionnaire raisonné de l'Architecture française du XI^e au XVI^esiècle. _ The South of France. I. THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. If it is only by an effort that we appreciate the valour of Columbus inthe XV century, his secret doubts, his temerity, how much fainter is ourconception of the heroism of the early Mediterranean navigators. Steamhas destroyed for us the awful majesty of distance, and we can neverrealise the immensity of this "great Sea" to the ancients. To Virgil theadventures of the "pious Æneas" were truly heroic. The western shores ofthe Mediterranean were then the "end of the earth, " and even during thefirst centuries of our own era, he who ventured outside the Straits ofGibraltar tempted either Providence or the Devil and was very properlypunished by falling over the edge of the earth into everlastingdestruction. "Why, " asks a mediæval text-book of science, "is the sun sored in the evening?" And this convincing answer follows, "Because helooks down upon Hell. " For centuries before the Christian era the South of France, with Spain, lay in the unknown west end of the Sea. Along its eastern shores laycivilisations hoary with age; Carthage, to the South, was moribund;Greece was living on the prestige of her glorious past; while Rome wasbecoming all-powerful. Legend tells that adventurous Phoenicians andGreeks discovered the French coasts, that Nîmes was founded by a TyrianHercules, and Marseilles, about 600 B. C. , by a Phoenician trader whomarried a chief's daughter and settled at the mouth of the Rhone. Butthese early settlements were merely isolated towns, which were notinterdependent;--scarcely more than trading posts. It was Rome who tooksouthern Gaul unto herself, and after Roman fashion, built cities andtowns and co-ordinated them into well-regulated provinces; and it iswith Roman rule that the connected history of Gaul begins. From the outset we meet one basic fact, so difficult to realise whenFrance is considered as one country, the essential difference betweenthe North and the South. Cæsar found in the South a partial Romancivilisation ready for his organisation; and old, flourishing cities, like Narbonne, Aix, and Marseilles. In the North he found the peopleadvanced no further than the tribal stage, and Paris--not even Paris inname--was a collection of mud huts, which, from its strategic position, he elevated into a camp. The two following centuries, the height ofRoman dominion in France, accentuated these differences. The North wasgoverned by the Romans, never assimilated nor civilised by them. TheSouth eagerly absorbed all the culture of the Imperial City; herreligions and her pleasures, her beautiful Temples and greatAmphitheatres, finally her morals and effeminacy, till in the II centuryof our era, anyone living a life of luxurious gaiety was popularly saidto have "set sail for Marseilles. " To this day the South boasts that itwas a very part of Rome, and Rome was not slow to recognise the claim. Gallic poets celebrated the glory of Augustus, a Gaul was the masterof Quintilian, and Antoninus Pius, although born in the Imperial City, was by parentage a native of Nîmes. [Illustration: "CARCASSONNE, THE INVULNERABLE. "] Not to the rude North, but to this society, so pagan, sopleasure-loving, came the first missionaries of the new Christian faith, to meet in the arenas of Gaul the fate of their fellow-believers inRome, to hide in subterranean caves and crypts, to endure, to persist, and finally to conquer. In the III and IV centuries many of the greatBishoprics were founded, Avignon, Narbonne, Lyons, Arles, andSaint-Paul-trois Châteaux among others; but these same years broughtpolitical changes which seemed to threaten both Church and State. Roman power was waning. Tribes from across the Rhine were gathering, massing in northern Gaul, and its spirit was antagonistic to thecontentment of the rich Mediterranean provinces. The tribes werebrave, ruthless, and barbarous. Peace was galling to theiruncontrollable restlessness. The Gallo-Romans were artistic, literary, idle, and luxurious. They fell, first to milder but heretical foes;then to the fierce but orthodox Frank; and the story of succeedingyears was a chronicle of wars. Like a great swarm of locusts, theSaracens--conquerors from India to Spain--came upon the South. Theytook Narbonne, Nîmes, and even Carcassonne, the Invulnerable. Theybesieged Toulouse, and almost destroyed Bordeaux. Other cities, perhaps as great as these, were razed to the very earth and even theirnames are now forgotten. Europe was menaced; the South of France wasall but destroyed. Again the Frank descended; and like a great wind blowing clouds from astormy sky, Charles Martel swept back the Arabs and saved Christianity. Before 740, he had returned a third time to the South, not as adeliverer, but for pure love of conquest; and by dismantling Nîmes, destroying the maritime cities of Maguelonne and Agde, and taking thepowerful strongholds of Arles and Marseilles, he paved the way for hisgreat descendant who nominally united "all France. " But Charlemagne's empire fell in pieces; and as Carlovingian hadsucceeded Merovingian, so in 987 Capetian displaced the weak descendantsof the mighty head of the "Holy Roman Empire. " The map changed withbewildering frequency; and in these changes, the nobles--more stablethan their kings--grew to be the real lords of their several domains. History speaks of France from Clovis to the Revolution as a kingdom; buteven later than the First Crusade the kingdom lay somewhere betweenParis and Lyons; the Royal Domain, not France as we know it now. TheDuchy of Aquitaine, the Duchy of Brittany, Burgundy, the Counties ofToulouse, Provence, Champagne, Normandy, and many smaller possessions, were as proudly separate in spirit as Norway and Sweden, and often aspolitically distinct as they from Denmark. In the midst of these times of turmoil the Church had steadily grown. Every change, however fatal to North or South, brought to her newstrength. Confronted with cultured paganism in the first centuries, theblood of her martyrs made truly fruitful seed for her victories; andlater, facing paganism of another, wilder race, she triumphed morepeacefully in the one supreme conversion of Clovis; and the devotion andinterest which from that day grew between Church and King, graduallymade her the greatest power of the country. After the decline of Romanculture the Church was the one intellectual, almost peaceful, andtotally irresistible force. The great lords scorned learning. An Abbot, quaintly voicing the Church's belief, said that "every letter writ onpaper is a sword thrust in the devil's side. " When there was cessationof war, the occupation of men, from Clovis' time throughout Mediævalism, was gone. They could not read; they could not write; the joy of huntingwas, in time, exhausted. They were restless, lost. The justice meted outby the great lords was, too often, the right of might. But at theCouncil of Orléans, in 511, a church was declared an inviolable refuge, where the weak should be safe until their case could be calmly andrighteously judged. The beneficent care of the Church cannot beoverestimated. Between 500 and 700 she had eighty-three councils inGaul, and scarcely one but brought a reform, --a real amelioration ofhardships. Something of the general organisation of her great power in those rudetimes deserves more than the usual investigation. Even in its smallplace in the "Cathedrals and Cloisters of the South of France, " it is aninteresting bit of Church politics and psychology. The ecclesiastical tradition of France goes back to the very first yearsof the Christian era. Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, Martha, and Mary theMother of James, are only a few of those intimately connected withChrist Himself, who are believed to have come into Gaul; and in theirefforts to systematically and surely establish Christianity, to havefounded the first French Bishoprics. This is tradition. But even thehistory of the II century tells of a venerable, martyred Bishop ofLyons, a disciple of that Polycarp who knew Saint John; and in the IIIcentury Gaul added no less than fourteen to the Sees she already had. Enthusiastic tradition aside, it is evident that the missionary ardourof the Gallic priests was intense; and the glory of their earlyvictories belongs entirely to a branch of the Church known as "theSecular Clergy. " [Illustration: THE TOWER OF AN EARLY MARITIME CATHEDRAL. --AGDE. ] The other great branch, "the Religious Orders, " were of laterinstitution. From the oriental deserts of the Thebaid, where SaintAnthony had early practised the austerities of monkish life, SaintMartin drew his inspiration for the monasticism of the West. But it wasnot until the last of the IV century that he founded, near Poitiers, thefirst great monastery in France. The success of this form of pious life, if not altogether edifying, was immediate. Devotional excesses were lesscommon in the temperate climate of France than under the excitingoriental sun, yet that most bizarre of Eastern fanatics, the "PillarSaint, " had at least one disciple in Gaul. He--the good BrotherWulfailich--began the life of sanctity by climbing a column near Trèves, and prepared himself to stand on it, barefooted, through winter andsummer, till, presumably, angels should bear him triumphantly to heaven. But the West is not the East. And the good Bishops of the neighbourhooddrew off, instead of waiting at the pillar, as an exalted emperor hadhumbly stood beneath that of Saint Simeon Stylites. Far from beingawe-struck, they were scandalised; and they forced Wulfailich to descendfrom his eminence, and destroyed it. This is one of the first Gallicinstances of the antagonisms between the "secular" and the "regular"branches of the reverend clergy. Within the French Church from early times, these two great forces werearrayed, marching toward the same great end, --but never marchingtogether. It is claimed they were, and are, inimical. In theory, inideal, nothing could be further from truth. They were in fact sometimesunfriendly; and more often than not mutually suspicious. For the greatAbbot inevitably lived in a Bishop's See; and with human tempers beneaththeir churchly garb, Abbot and Bishop could not always agree. Now theBishop was lord of the clergy, supreme in his diocese; but should hecall to account the lowest friar of any monastery, my Lord Abbot repliedthat he was "answerable only to the Pope, " and retired to his vexatious"imperium in imperio. " The beginning of the VI century saw much that was irregular in monasticlife. The whole country was either in a state of war or of unrestfulexpectation of war. Many Abbeys were yet to be established; many merelyin process of foundation. Wandering brothers were naturally beset by thedangers and temptations of an unsettled life; and if history may bebelieved, fell into many irregularities and even shamed their cloth bylicentiousness. Into this disorder came the great and holy Benedict, the"learnedly ignorant, the wisely unlearned, " the true organiser ofWestern Monachism. Under his wise "Rules" the Abbey of the VI centurywas transformed. It became "not only a place of prayer and meditation, but a refuge against barbarism in all its forms. And this home of booksand knowledge had departments of all kinds, and its dependencies formedwhat we would call to-day a 'model farm. ' There were to be foundexamples of activity and industry for the workman, the common tiller ofthe soil, or the land-owner himself. It was a school, " continuesThierry, "not of religion, but of practical knowledge; and when it isconsidered that there were two hundred and thirty-eight of such schoolsin Clovis' day, the power of the Orders, though late in coming, will beseen to have grown as great as that of the Bishops. " From these two branches sprang all that is greatest in theecclesiastical architecture of France. As their strength grew, theirrespective churches were built, and to-day, as a sign of their dualpower, we have the Abbey and the Cathedral. The Bishop's church had its prototype in the first Christian meetingplaces in Rome and was planned from two basic ideas, --the part of theRoman house which was devoted to early Christian service, and thegrowing exigencies of the ritual itself. At the very first of theChristian era, converts met in any room, but these little groups so soongrew to communities that a larger place was needed and the "basilica" ofthe house became the general and accepted place of worship. The"basilica" was composed of a long hall, sometimes galleried, and ahemicycle; and its general outline was that of a letter T. Into thispurely secular building, Christian ceremonials were introduced. Thehemicycle became the apse; the gallery, a clerestory; the hall, acentral nave. Here the paraphernalia of the new Church were installed. The altar stood in the apse; and between it and the nave, on eitherside, a pulpit or reading-desk was placed. Bishop and priests sat aroundthe altar, the people in the nave. This disposition of clergy, people, and the furniture of the sacred office is essentially that of theCathedral of to-day. There were however many amplifications of the firsttype. The basilica form, T, was enlarged to that of a cross; andincreasingly beautiful architectural forms were evolved. Among the firstwas the tower of the early Italian churches. This single tower wasdoubled in the French Romanesque, often multiplied again by Gothicbuilders, and in Byzantine churches, increased to seven and even ninedomes. Transepts were added, and as, one by one, the arts came to theknowledge of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, each was pressed intothe service of the Cathedral builders. The interior became so beautifulwith carvings, windows of marvellously painted glass, rich tapestriesand frescoes, that the ritual seemed yearly more impressive andawe-inspiring. The old, squat exterior of early days was forgotten innew height and majesty, and the Cathedral became the dominant buildingof the city. Although the country was early christianised, and on the map ofMerovingian France nearly all the present Cathedral cities of theMediterranean were seats of Bishoprics, we cannot now see all thesuccessive steps of the church architecture of the South. The main eraof the buildings which have come down to us, is the XI-XIV centuries. Ofearlier types and stages little is known, little remains. [Illustration: A NAVE OF THE EARLIER STYLE. --ARLES. ] In general, Gallic churches are supposed to have been basilican, withall the poverty of the older style. Charlemagne's architects, with SanVitale in mind, gave a slight impetus in the far-away chapel atAix-la-Chapelle, and Gregory of Tours tells us that Bishop Perpetuusbuilt a "glorious" church at Tours. But his description is meagre. Aftera few mathematical details, he returns to things closer to hisheart, --the Church's atmosphere of holiness, the emblematic radiance ofthe candle's light, the ecstasy of worshippers who seemed "to breathethe air of Paradise. " And Saint Gregory's is the religious, uncriticalspirit of his day, whose interest was in ecclesiastical establishmentrather than ecclesiastical architecture. Churches there were in numbers;but they were not architectural achievements. Their building was likethe planting of the flag; they were new outposts, signs of an advance ofthe Faith. With this missionary spirit in the Church, with priests stillengaged in christianising and monks in establishing themselves on theirdomains, with a very general ignorance of art, with the absorbinginterest of the powerful and great in warfare, and the very greatstruggle among the poor for existence, architecture before the X centuryhad few students or protectors. France had neither sufficient politicalpeace nor ecclesiastical wealth for elaborate church structures. Nohead, either of Church or State, had taste and time enough to inauguratesuch works. Many causes have combined to destroy such churches as then existed. Ifthey escaped the rasings and fires of a siege, they were often destroyedby lightning, or decayed by years; and some of the fragments whichendured to the XIII century were torn down to make room for morebeautiful buildings. It was the XI and XII centuries which saw the important beginnings ofthe great Cathedrals of both North and South. These were the years whenreligion was the dominant idea of the western world, --when everything, even warfare, was pressed into its service. Instead of devastating theirown and their neighbour's country, Christian armies were devastating theHoly Land; doing to the Infidel in the name of their religion what he, in the name of his, had formerly done to them. The capture of Jerusalemhad triumphantly ended the First Crusade; the Church was everywherevictorious, and the Pope in actual fact the mightiest monarch of theearth. These were the days when Peter the Hermit's cry, "God wills it, "aroused the world, and aroused it to the most diverse accomplishments. One form of this activity was church building; but there were othercauses than religion for the general magnificence of the effort. Amongthese was communal pride, the interesting, half-forgotten motive of muchthat is great in mediæval building. The Mediævalism of the old writers seems an endless pageant, in whichindefinitely gorgeous armies "march up the hill and then march downagain;" in newer histories this has disappeared in the long struggle ofone class with another; and in neither do we reach the individual, norsee the daily life of the people who are the backbone of a nation. Yetthese are the people we must know if we are to have a right conceptionof the Cathedral's place in the living interest of the Middle Ages. Forthe Bishop's church was in every sense a popular church. The Abbey wasbuilt primarily for its monks, and the Abbey-church for their meditationand worship. The French Cathedral was the people's, it was built bytheir money, not money from an Abbey-coffer. It did not stand, as theCathedral of England, majestic and apart, in a scholarly close; it wasin the open square of the city; markets and fairs were held about it;the doors to its calm and rest opened directly on the busiest, every-daybustle. It is not a mere architectural relic, as its building was nevera mere architectural feat. It is the symbol of a past stage of life, amajestic part of the picture we conjure before our mind's eye, when weconsider Mediævalism. [Illustration: A NAVE OF THE LATER STYLE. --RODEZ. ] Such a picture of a city of another country and of the late Middle Agesexists in the drama of Richard Wagner's Meistersinger; and his Nurembergof the XVI century, with changes of local colour, is the type of allmediæval towns. General travel was unknown. The activity of the greatroads was the march of armies, the roving of marauders, the journeys ofventuresome merchants or well-armed knights. Not only roads, but evenstreets were unsafe at night; and after the sun had set he who had goneabout freely and carelessly during the day, remained at home or venturedout with much caution. When armies camped about her walls, the city wasdoubtless much occupied with outside happenings. But when the camp brokeup and war was far away, her shoemaker made his shoes, her goldsmith, fine chains and trinkets, her merchants traded in the market-place. Their interests were in street brawls, romancings, new "privileges, " thework or the feast of the day--in a word town-topics. Yet being as othermen, the burghers also were awakened by the energy of the age, andinstead of wasting it in adventures and wars, their interest took theform of an intense local pride, narrow, but with elements of grandeur, seldom selfish, but civic. This absence of the personal element is nowhere better illustrated thanin Cathedral building. Of all the really great men who planned theCathedrals of France, almost nothing is known; and by searching, littlecan be found out. Who can give a dead date, much less a living fact, concerning the life of that Gervais who conceived the great Gothicheight of Narbonne? Who can tell even the name of him who planned thesombre, battlemented walls of Agde, or of that great man who first sawin poetic vision the delicate choir of Saint-Nazaire in Carcassonne?Artists have a well-preserved personality, --cathedral-builders, none. Robert of Luzarches who conceived the "Parthenon of all Gothicarchitecture, " and the man who planned stately Sens and the richness ofCanterbury, are as unknown to us as the quarries from which the stonesof their Cathedrals were cut. It is not the Cathedral built by Robert ofLuzarches belonging to Amiens, as it is the Assumption by Rubensbelonging to Antwerp. It is scarcely the Cathedral of its patron, SaintFirmin. It is the Cathedral of Amiens. [Illustration: "THE DELICATE CHOIR OF SAINT-NAZAIRE. "--CARCASSONNE. ] We hear many learned disquisitions on the decay of the art of churchbuilding. Lack of time in our rushing age, lack of patience, decline ofreligious zeal, or change in belief, these are some of the popularreasons for this architectural degeneracy. Strange as it may seem noneof these have had so powerful an influence as the invention of printing. The first printing-press was made in the middle of the XVcentury, --after the conception of the great Cathedrals. In an earlierage, when the greatest could neither read nor write and manuscripts evenin monasteries were rare, sculpture and carving were the layman's books, and Cathedrals were not only places of worship, they were thepeople's religious libraries where literature was cut in stone. In the North, the most unique form of this literature was the drama ofthe Breton Calvaries, which portrayed one subject and one only, --the"Life and Passion of Christ, " taken from Prophecy, Tradition, and theGospels. Cathedrals, both North and South, used the narrative form. Theytold story after story; and their makers showed an intimate knowledge ofBiblical lore that would do credit to the most ardent theologicalstudent. At Nîmes, by no means the richest church in carvings, there arebesides the Last Judgment and the reward of the Evil and theRighteous, --which even a superficial Christian should know, --many of thestories of the Book of Genesis. At Arles, there is the Dream of Jacob, the Dream of Joseph, the Annunciation, the Nativity, Purification, Massacre of the Innocents, the Flight into Egypt; almost a Bible instone. In these days of books and haste few would take the trouble tostudy such sculptured tales. But their importance to the unletteredpeople of the Middle Ages cannot be overestimated; and the incentive tomagnificence of artistic conception was correspondingly great. The main era of Cathedral building is the same all over France. But withthe general date, all arbitrary parallel between North and Southabruptly ends. The North began the evolution of the Gothic, a new formindigenous to its soil; the South continued the Romanesque, herevolution of a transplanted style, and long knew no other. She had grownaccustomed to give northward, --not to receive; and it was the reign ofSaint Louis before she began to assimilate the architectural ideas ofthe Isle de France and to build in the Gothic style, it was admirationfor the newer ideals which led the builders of the South to change suchof their plans as were not already carried out, and to try with theseforeign and beautiful additions, to give to their churches the mostperfect form they could conceive. And thus, from a web of Fate, in which, as in all destinies, is thespinning of many threads, came the Cathedrals and Cloisters of theSouth. Are they greater than those of the North? Are they inferior tothem? It is best said, "Comparison is idle. " Who shall decide betweenthe fir-trees and the olives--between the beautiful order of a northernforest and the strange, astounding luxuriance of the southern tangle?Which is the better choice--the well-told tale of the Cathedrals of theNorth, with their procession of kingly visitors, or the almost untoldstory of the Cathedrals of the South, where history is still legend, tradition, romance--the story of fanatic fervour and still more fanatichate? [Illustration: A CLOISTER OF THE SOUTH. --ELNE. ] II. ARCHITECTURE IN PROVENCE, LANGUEDOC, AND GASCONY. No better place can be found than the Mediterranean provinces toconsider the origins of the earliest southern style. Here RomanesqueCathedrals arose in the midst of the vast ruins of Imperial antiquity, here they developed strange similarities to foreign styles, domessuggesting the East, Greek motives recalling Byzantium, and detailsreminiscent of Syria. And here is the battle-field for that great armywho decry or who defend Roman influences. Some would have us believethat the Romanesque dome is expatriated from the East; others, that itis naturalised; others, that it is native. The plan of the Romanesquedome differs very much from that of the Byzantine, yet the generalconception seems Eastern. If conceivable in the Oriental mind, why notin that of the West? And yet, in spite of some native peculiarities ofstructure, why should not the general idea have been imported? Who shalldecide? In a book such as this, mooted questions which involve suchmultitudinous detail and such unprovable argument cannot be discussed. It is unreasonable to doubt, however, that Roman influences dominatedthe South, herself a product of Roman civilisation; and as in thecurious ineradicable tendency of the South toward heresy we more thansuspect a subtle infiltration of Greek and Oriental perversions, so inarchitecture it is logical to infer that Mediterranean traders, Crusaders, and perhaps adventurous architects who may have travelled intheir wake, brought rumours of the buildings of the East, which wereadopted with original or necessary modifications. Viollet-le-Duc, insumming up this much discussed question, has written that "in theRomanesque art of the West, side by side with persistent Latintraditions, a Byzantine influence is almost always found, evidenced bythe introduction of the cupola. " In the lamentable absence of records ofthe majority of Cathedrals, reasonings of origin must be inductive, andmore or less imaginative, and have no legitimate place in the scope of abook which aims to describe the existing conditions and proven historyof southern Cathedrals. [Illustration: A ROMANESQUE AISLE. --ARLES. ] Quicherat, who has had much to say upon architectural subjects, definesthe Romanesque as an art "which has ceased to be Roman, although it hasmuch that is Roman, and that is not yet Gothic, although it alreadypresages the Gothic. " This is not a very helpful interpretation. Romanesque, as it exists in France to-day, is generally of earlierbuilding than the Gothic; it is an older and far simpler style. It wasnot a quick, brilliant outburst, like the Gothic, but a long and slowevolution; and it has therefore deliberation and dignity, not thespontaneity of northern creations; strength, and at times great vigour, but not munificence, not the lavishness of art and wealth and adornment, of which the younger style was prodigal. Few generalisations areflawless, but it may be truly said that Romanesque Cathedrals arelacking in splendour; and it will be found in a large majority of casesthat they are also without the impressiveness of great size; that theyare almost devoid of shapely windows or stained glass, of notablecarvings or richness of decorative detail. Their art is a simple art, asober art, and in its nearest approach to opulence--the sculpturedportals of Saint-Trophime of Arles or Saint-Gilles-de-Languedoc--thereis still a reserved rather than an exuberant and uncontrolled display ofwealth. [Illustration: "THE SCULPTURED PORTALS OF SAINT-TROPHIME. "--ARLES. ] By what simple, superficial sign can this architecture be recognised bythose who are to see it for the first time? It exists "everywhere andalways" in southern France; but, side by side with the encroachmentsand additions of other styles, how can it be easily distinguished?Quicherat writes that the principal characteristic of the Romanesque is"la voûte, " and the great, rounded tunnel of the roofing is adistinction which will be found in no other form. But the easiest ofsuperficial distinctions is the arch-shape, which in portal, window, vaulting or tympanum is round; wherever the arcaded form isused, --always round. With this suggestion of outline, and the universalprinciples of the style, simplicity and dignity and absence of greatornamentation, the untechnical traveller may distinguish the Romanesqueof the South, and if he be akin to the traveller who tells theseCathedral tales, the interest and fascination which the old architectureawakes, will lead him to discover for himself the many differences whichare evident between the ascetic strength of the one, and the splendourand brilliance of the other. [Sidenote: Provence. ] [Illustration: A GOTHIC AISLE. --MENDE. ] The three provinces which compose the South of France are Provence, Languedoc, and Gascony, and of these Provence is, architecturally andhistorically, the first to claim our interest. During the era ofcolonisation it was the most thoroughly romanised, and in the earlycenturies of Christianity the first to fall completely under thesystematic organisation of the Church. It has a large group of very oldCathedrals, and is the best study-ground for a general scrutiny andappreciation of that style which the builders of the South assimilatedand developed until, as it were, they naturalised it and made it oneof the two greatest forms of architectural expression. Provence does notcontain the most impressive examples of Romanesque. Two Abbeys of thefar Norman North are more finished and harmonious representations of theart, and Languedoc, in the basilica of Saint-Sernin of Toulouse, has anobler interior than any in the Midi, and many other churches ofLanguedoc and Gascony are most interesting examples of a style whichbelonged to them as truly as to Provence. Yet it is in this province that the Romanesque is best studied. For herethe great internecine struggles--both political and religious--of theMiddle Ages were not as devastating as in Languedoc and Gascony;Provence was a sunny land, where Sonnets flourished more luxuriantlythan did Holy Inquisition. Her churches have therefore been preserved intheir original form in greater numbers than those of the two otherprovinces. They are of all types of Romanesque, all stages of itsgrowth, from the small and simple Cathedrals which were built whenecclesiastical exchequers were not overflowing, to the greater oneswhich illustrate very advanced and dignified phases of architecturaldevelopment; and as a whole they exhibit the normal proportion offailure and success in an effort toward an ideal. [Sidenote: Languedoc. ] Léon Renier, the learned lecturer of the Collège de France, says: "It isremarkable that the changes, the elaborations, the modifications of thearchitecture given by Rome to all countries under her domination wereconceived in the provinces long before they were reproduced in Italy. Rome gave no longer; she received . .. A transfusion of a new blood, morevital and more rich. " In Languedoc, the greater number of monuments ofthis ancient architecture have been destroyed; and those of theiroutgrowth, the later Romanesque, were so repeatedly mutilated that theCathedrals of this province present even a greater confusion oforiginalities, restorations, and additions than those of Provence. To amultitude of dates must be added corresponding differences in style. Each school of architecture naturally considered that it had somewhat ofa monopoly of good taste and beauty, or at least that it was animprovement on the manner which preceded it; and it would have been toomuch to expect, in ages when anachronisms were unrecognised, thatchurches should have been restored in their consonant, original style. Architects of the Gothic period were unable to resist the temptation ofcontinuing a Romanesque nave with a choir of their own school, andbuilders of the XVIII century went still further and added a showy LouisXV façade to a modest Romanesque Cathedral. Some churches, built intimes of religious storm and stress, show the preoccupation of theirpatrons or the lack of talent of their constructors; others belong toBishoprics that were much more lately constituted than the Sees ofProvence, and in these cases the new prelate chose a church alreadybegun or completed, and compromised with the demands of episcopal pompby an addition, usually of different style. The numerous changes, political and religious, of the Mediævalism of Languedoc, had suchconsiderable and diverse influence on the architecture of theprovince that it is not possible, as in Provence, to trace anuninterrupted evolution of one style. The Languedocian is generally alater builder than the Provençal; he is bolder. Having the Romanesqueand the Gothic as choice, he chose at will and seemingly at random. Hehad spontaneity, enthusiasm, verve; and when no accepted model pleasedhis taste, he re-created after his own liking. Languedoc has therefore adelightful quality that is wanting in Provence; and in her greaterCathedrals there is often an originality that is due to genius ratherthan to eccentricity. There is delicate Gothic at Carcassonne, loftyGothic at Narbonne, Sainte-Cécile of Albi is fortified Gothic built inbrick. The interior of Saint-Sernin of Toulouse is an apotheosis of theaustere Romanesque, and Saint-Etienne of Agde is a gratifying type ofthe Maritime Church of the Midi. [Illustration: "CORRESPONDING DIFFERENCES IN STYLE. "--CARCASSONNE. ] This Cathedral of the Sea is a fitting example of a peculiar type ofarchitecture which exists also in Provence, --a succession offortress-churches that extend along the Mediterranean from Spain toItaly like the peaks of a mountain chain. Nothing can better illustratethe continuous warrings and raidings in the South of France than thesestrange churches, and their many fortified counterparts inland, in bothLanguedoc and Gascony. Castles and walled towns were not sufficient toprotect the Southerner from invasions and incursions; his churches andCathedrals, even to the XIV century, were strongholds, more suitable formen-at-arms than for priests, and seemingly dedicated to some war-godrather than to the gentle Virgin Mother and the Martyr-Saints underwhose protection they nominally dwelt. Although most interesting, the military church of the interior is seldomthe Bishop's church. The maritime church on the contrary is nearlyalways a Cathedral, with strangely curious legends and episodes. TheFrench coast of the Mediterranean was the scene of continuous pillage. Huns, Normans, Moors, Saracens, unknown pirates and free-booters of allnationalities found it very lucrative and convenient to descend on asea-board town, and escape as they had come, easily, their boats loadedwith booty. "As late as the XII century, " writes Barr Ferree, "buccaneers gained a livelihood by preying on the peaceful andunoffending inhabitants of the villages and cities. The Cathedrals, asthe most important buildings and the most conspicuous, were stronglyfortified, both to protect their contents and to serve as strongholdsfor the citizens in case of need. In these churches, therefore, architecture assumed its most utilitarian form and buildings are realfortifications, with battlemented walls, strong and heavy towers, andsmall windows, and are provided with the other devices of Romanesquearchitecture of a purely military type. " [Illustration: "FORTIFIED GOTHIC BUILT IN BRICK. "--ALBI. ] "Time has dealt hardly with them. The kingly power, being entrenched inParis, developed from the Isle de France. The wealth that once enrichedthe fertile lands of the South moved northwards, and the greatcommercial cities of the North became the most important centres ofactivity. Then the southern towns began to decline, " and thebuildings which remain to represent most perfectly the "Church-Fortress"are not those of Provence, which are "patched" and "restored, " but thoseof Languedoc, Agde, and Maguelonne, and Elne of the near-by country ofRousillon. [Illustration: "A CHURCH FORTRESS. "--MAGUELONNE. ] [Sidenote: Gascony. ] Gascony, the last of the southern provinces and the farthest from Rome, had great prosperity under Imperial dominion. Many patricians emigratedthere, roads were built, commerce flourished, and as in Provence andLanguedoc, towns grew into large and well-established cities. Christianity made a comparatively early conquest of the province; andat the beginning of the IV century, eleven suffragan Bishoprics had beenestablished under the Archbishopric of Eauze. Gascony has many oldCathedral cities, and has had many ancient Cathedrals; but after thefall of the Roman Empire in the V century, a series of wars began whichdestroyed not only the Christian architecture, but almost every trace ofRoman wealth and culture. Little towers remain, supposed shrines ofMercury, protector of commerce and travel; pieces of statues are found;but the Temples, the Amphitheatres, the Forums, have disappeared, andeven more completely, the rude Christian churches of that early period. Although the province has no Mediterranean coast and could not bemolested by the marauders of that busy sea, it lay directly upon theroute of armies between France and Spain; and it is no "gasconading" tosay that it was for centuries one of the greatest battle-fields of theSouth. Vandals, Visigoths, Franks, Saracens, Normans, --Gascons againstCarlovingians, North against South, all had burned, raided, anddestroyed Gascony before the XI century. It is not surprising, then, that there are found fewer traces of antiquity here than in Provence andLanguedoc. Even the few names of decimated cities which survived, designated towns on new sites. Eauze, formerly on the Gélise, lay longin ruins, and was finally re-built a kilometre inland. Lectoure and Auchhad long since retired from the river Gers and taken refuge on the hillsof their present situations, while other cities fell into complete ruinand forgetfulness. [Illustration: STATELY GOTHIC SPLENDOUR. --CONDOM. ] The year 1000, which followed these events, was that of the predictedand expected end of the world. The extravagances of Christians at thattime are well known, the gifts of all property that were made to theChurch, the abandonment of worldly pursuits, the terrors of many, theanxiety of the calmest, the emotional excesses which led people to livein trees that they might be near to heaven when the "great trump" shouldsound, --"Mundi fine appropinquante. " But the trumpet did not sound, andRaoul Glaber, a monk of the XI century, writes that all over Italy andthe Gaul of his day there was great haste to restore and re-buildchurches, a general rivalry between towns and between countries, as towhich could build most remarkably. "This activity, " says Quicherat, "mayshow a desire to renew alliance with the Creator. " It certainly provesthat the generation of the year 1000 had fresh and new architecturalideas. This was the period of recuperation and re-building for Gascony. Themonks of the VIII, IX, and X centuries had devoted themselves with zealand success to the cultivation of the soil. They had acquired fertilefields, and desiring peace, they had placed themselves in positionswhere their strength would defend them when their holy calling was notrespected. These monasteries were places of refuge and soon gave theirname and their protection to the towns and villages which began tocluster about them. Except the declining settlements of Roman days, Gascony had few towns in the X century; and many of her most importantcities of to-day owe their foundation, their existence, and theirprosperity to these Benedictine monasteries. Eauze regained its lifeafter the establishment of a convent, and in the XI, XII, and XIIIcenturies, the Abbots of Cîteaux, Bishops, and even lords of the laity, occupied themselves in the creation of new cities. Many of the towns ofmediæval creation possessed broad municipal and commercial privileges, they grew to the importance of "communes" and Bishoprics, and some evenstyled themselves "Republics. " Although these were times of much re-building, restoring, and carryingout of older plans of ecclesiastical architecture, the XI and XIIcenturies were none the less filled with innumerable private wars, andin 1167 began the bloody and persistent struggle with England. The cityof Aire was at one time reduced to twelve inhabitants, and the horrorsof the mediæval siege were more than once repeated. In these wars, Cathedrals, as well as towns and their inhabitants, were scarred andwounded. Hardly had these dissensions ended in 1494, when the Wars ofReligion commenced under Charles IX, and Gascony was again one of themost terrible fields of battle. Here the demoniac enthusiasm of bothsides exceeded even the terrible exhibitions of Languedoc. The royalfamily of Navarre was openly Protestant and contributed more than anyothers to the military organisations of their Faith. Jeanne d'Albret, in1566, wishing to repay intolerance with intolerance, forbade religiousprocessions and church funerals in Navarre. The people rose, and thenext year the Queen was forced to grant toleration to both religions. Later the King of France entered the field and sent an army against theBéarnaise Huguenots, Jeanne, in reprisal, called to her aid Montmorency;and with a thoroughness born of pious zeal and hatred, each army beganto burn and kill. All monasteries, all churches, were looted by theProtestants; all cities taken by Montluc, head of the Catholics, weresacked. Tarbes was devastated by the one, Rabestans by the other, andthe Cathedral of Pamiers was ruined. With the Massacre of SaintBartholomew, in 1572, the struggle began again, and the Leagueflourished in all its malign enthusiasm. "Such disorder as wasintroduced, " says a writer of the period, "such pillage, has never beenseen since war began. Officers, soldiers, followers, and volunteers wereso overburdened with booty as to be incommoded thereby. And after thisbrigandage, the peasants hereabouts [Bigorre] abandoned their very farmsfrom lack of cattle, and the greater number went into Spain. " During long centuries of such religious and political devastation thearchitectural energy of Gascony was expended in replacing churches whichhad been destroyed, and were again to be destroyed or injured. It wouldbe unfair to expect of this province the great magnificence which itsbrave, cheerful, and extravagant little people believe it "oncepossessed, " or to look, amid such unrest, for the calm growth of anyarchitectural style. It is a country of few Cathedrals, of curiouschurches built for war and prayer, and of such occasional outbursts ofmagnificence as is seen in the Romanesque portal of Saint-Pierre ofMoissac and in the stately Gothic splendour of the Cathedrals at Condomand at Bayonne. It is a country where Cathedrals are surrounded by themost beautiful of landscapes, and where each has some legend or story ofthe English, the League, of the Black Prince, or the Lion-hearted, ofHenry IV, still adored, or of Simon de Montfort, still execrated, wherethe towns are truly historic and the mountains truly grand. Provence. I. THE CATHEDRALS OF THE SEA. [Sidenote: Marseilles. ] Perhaps a Phoenician settlement, certainly a Carthaginian mart, later aGrecian city, and in the final years of the pagan era possessed by theRomans, no city of France has had more diverse influences of antiquecivilisation than Marseilles, none responded more proudly to its ancientopportunities; and not only was it commercially wealthy and renowned, but so rich in schools that it was called "another, a new Athens. " Itwas also the port of an adventurous people, who founded Nice, Antibes, la Ciotat, and Agde, and explored a part of Africa and Northern Europe;and at the fall of the Roman Empire it became, by very virtue of itsriches and safe harbour, the envy and the prey of a succession ofbarbaric and "infidel" invaders. In the Middle Ages it had all thevicissitudes of wars and sieges to which a great city could besubjected. It had a Viscount, and from very early days, a Bishop; it wasat one time part of the Kingdom of Arles; and later it recognised thesuzerainty of the Counts of Provence. When these lords were warring orcrusading, it took advantage of their absence or their troubles andgoverned itself through its Consuls; became a Provençal Republic afterthe type of the Italian cities and other towns of the Mediterraneancountry; treated with the Italian Republics on terms of perfectequality; and although finally annexed to France by the wily Louis ofthe Madonnas, its people were continually haunted by memories of theirformer independence, and not only struggled for municipal rights andliberties, but took sides for or against the most powerful monarchs ofcontinental history as if they had been a resourceful country ratherthan a city. It succored the League, defied Henry IV and Richelieu; andtreating Kings in trouble as cavalierly as declining Counts, Marseillestried at the death of Henry III to secede from France and recover itsautonomy under a Consul, Charles de Cazaulx. Promptly defeated, it stillcontinued to think independently, and struggle, as best it might, forfreedom of administration; and although from the time of Pompey to thatof Louis XIV it has had an ineradicable tendency to stand against thegovernment, it has survived the results of all its contumacies, itsplagues, wars, and sieges, and the destructiveness of its phase of theRevolution, when it had a Terror of its own. Notwithstanding modernrivals in the Mediterranean, Marseilles is to-day one of the largest andmost prosperous of French cities. Built in amphitheatre around the bay, it is beautiful in general view, its streets bustle with commercialactivity, and its vast docks swarm with workmen. The storms of the pasthave gone over Marseilles as the storms of nature over its sea, havebeen as passionate, and have left as little trace. Instead of Temples, Forum, and Arena, there are the Palais de Longchamps, the Palais deJustice, and the Christian Arch of Triumph. Instead of the muddy andunhealthy alley-ways of Mediævalism, there are broad streets and wideboulevards, and in spite of its antiquity Marseilles is a city ofto-day, in monuments, aspect, spirit, and even in class distinction. "Here, " writes Edmond About, "are only two categories of people, thosewho have made a fortune and those who are trying to make one, and theprincipal inhabitants are parvenus in the most honourable sense of theword. " [Illustration: _Entrevaux. _ People gather around the mail-coach as it makes its daily halt beforethe drawbridge. ] [Illustration: THE NEW CATHEDRAL. --MARSEILLES. ] "In the most honourable sense of the word, " the Cathedral of Marseillesis also typical of the city, "parvenue. " Its first stone was placed byPrince Louis Napoleon in 1852, and as the modern has overgrown theclassic and mediæval greatness of Marseilles, so the new "Majeure" haseclipsed, if it has not yet entirely replaced, the old Cathedral; andexcept the stern Abbey-church of Saint-Victor, an almost solitary relicof true mediæval greatness, it is the finest church of the city. The new Cathedral and the old stand side by side; the one strong andwhole, the other partly torn down, scarred and maimed as a veteran whohas survived many wars. Even in its ruin, it is an interesting type ofthe maritime Provençal church, but so pitiably overshadowed by itssuccessor that the charm of its situation is quite lost, and few willlinger to study its three small naves, the defaced fresco of the dome, or even the little chapel of Saint-Lazare, all white marble and carvingand small statues, scarcely more than a shallow niche in the wall, butdaintily proportioned, and a charming creation of the Renaissance. Fewerstill of those who pause to study what remains of the old "Majeure, "will stay to reconstruct it as it used to be, and realise that it hadits day of glory no less real than that of the new church which replacesit. In its stead, Saint-Martin's, and Saint-Cannat's sometimes called"the Preachers, " have been temporarily used for the Bishop's services. But now that the greater church, the Assumption of the Blessed VirginMary, has been practically completed, it has assumed, once and for all, the greater rank, and a Cathedral of Marseilles still stands on itsterrace in full view of the sea. Tradition has it that a Temple of Baalonce stood on this site and later, a Temple to Diana; that Lazarus camein the I century, converted the pagan Marseillais and built a ChristianCathedral here. A more critical tradition says that Saint Victor firstcame as missionary, Bishop, and builder. All these vague memories ofconversion, more or less accurate, all the legends of an humble andstruggling Christianity, seem buried by this huge modern mass. It is nota church struggling and militant, but the Church Established andTriumphant. It is a vast building over four hundred and fifty feet long, preceded by two domed towers. Its transepts are surmounted at thecrossing by a huge dome whose circumference is nearly two hundred feet, a smaller one over each transept arm, and others above the apsidalchapels. The exterior is built with alternate layers of green Florentinestone and the white stone of Fontvieille; and the style of the church, variously called French Romanesque, Byzantine, and Neo-Byzantine, isvery oriental in its general effect. An arcade between the two towers forms a porch, the entrance to theinterior whose central nave stretches out in great spaciousness. Thelateral naves, in contrast, are exceedingly narrow and have highgalleries supported by large monolithic columns. These naves areprolonged into an ambulatory, each of whose chapels, in consonance withthe Cathedral's colossal proportions, is as large as many a church. Thebuilding stone of the interior is grey and pink, with white marble useddecoratively for capitals and bases; and these combinations of tintswhich would seem almost too delicate, too effeminate, for so large abuilding, are made rich and effective by their very mass, the giganticsizes which the plan exacts. All that artistic conception could producehas been added to complete an interior that is entirely oriental in itsluxury of ornamentation, half-oriental in style, and without that sobermajesty which is an inherent characteristic of the most elaborate stylesnative to Western Christianity. Under the gilded dome is a richbaldaquined High Altar, and through the whole church there is amagnificence of mosaics, of mural paintings, and of stained glass thatis sumptuous. Mosaics line the arches of the nave and the pendentives, and form the flooring; and in the midst of this richness of colour thegrey pillars rise, one after the other in long, shadowy perspective, like the trees of a stately grove. In planning this new Provençal Cathedral its architects did not attemptto reproduce, either exactly or in greater perfection, any maritime typewhich its situation on the Mediterranean might have suggested, nor werethey inspired by any of the models of the native style; and perhaps, tothe captious mind, its most serious defect is that its building hasdestroyed not only an actual portion of the old Majeure, but an historicinterest which might well have been preserved by a wise restoration oran harmonious re-building. And yet, with the large Palace of theArchbishop on the Port de la Joliette near-by, the statue of a devotedand loving Bishop in the open square, and the majestic Cathedral ofSainte-Marie-Majeure itself, the episcopacy of Marseilles has all theoutward and visible signs of strength and glory and power. [Sidenote: Toulon. ] Toulon, although a foundation of the Romans, owes its rank to-day toHenry IV, to Richelieu, and to Louis XIV's busy architect, Vauban. It isthe "Gibraltar of France, " a bright, bustling, modern city. Sainte-Marie-Majeure, one of its oldest ecclesiastical names, is a titlewhich belonged to churches of both the XI and XII centuries; but in thefeats of architectural gymnastics to which their remains have beensubjected, and in the wars and vicissitudes of Provence, these buildingshave long since disappeared. A few stones still exist of the XI century structure, void of form orarchitectural significance, and the ancient name of Sainte-Marie-Majeurenow protects a Cathedral built in the most depressing style of theindustrious Philistines of the XVII and XVIII centuries. It is not aProvençal nor a truly "maritime" church, it is not a fortress nor adefence, nor a work of any architectural beauty. It has blatancy, size, pretension, --a profusion of rich incongruities; and although religiouslyinteresting from its chapels and shrines, it is architecturallyobtrusive and monstrous. The vagaries of the architects who began in 1634 to construct thepresent edifice, are well illustrated in the changes of plan to whichthey subjected this unfortunate church. The length became the breadth, the isolated chapel of the Virgin, part of the main building; the choir, another chapel; and the High Altar was removed from the eastern to thenorthern end, where a new choir had been built for its reception. Thisconfusion of plan was carried out with logical confusion of style anddetail. The façade has Corinthian columns of the XVII century; the naveis said to be "transition Gothic, " the choir is decorated with muralpaintings, and the High Altar, a work of Révoil, adds to the banalitiesof the XVII and XVIII centuries a rich incongruity of which the XIX hasno reason to be proud. The whole interior is so full of naves of unequallength, and radiating chapels, of arches of differing forms, tastes, andstyles, that it defies concise description and is unworthy of seriousconsideration. Provence has modest Cathedrals of small architecturalsignificance, but except Sainte-Réparate of Nice, it has none so chaoticand commonplace as Sainte-Marie-Majeure of Toulon. [Sidenote: Fréjus. ] Fréjus, which claims to be "the oldest city in France, " was one of thenumerous trading ports of the Phoenician, and later, during the periodof her civic grandeur, an arsenal of the Roman navy. Her mostinteresting ruins are the Coliseum, the Theatre, the old Citadel, andthe Aqueduct, suggestions of a really great city of the long-gone past. Fréjus lost prestige with the decadence of the Empire, and after adestruction by the Saracens in the X century, Nature gave the blow whichfinally crushed her when the sea retreated a mile, and her old Romanlight-house was left to overlook merely a long stretch of barren, sandyland. Owing to this stranded, inland position, she has escaped both thedignity of a modern sea-port and the prostitution of a Rivieran resort, and is a little dead city, the seat of an ancient Provençal "Cathedralof the Sea. " This Cathedral is largely free from XVII and XVIII centurydisfigurements; and the pity is that having escaped this, a Frenchchurch's imminent peril, it should have become so built around that thecharacter of the exterior is almost lost. The façade is severely plain, an uninteresting re-building of 1823, but the carved wood of its portalsis beautiful. The towers, as in other maritime Cathedrals of Provence, recall the perils and dangers of their days; and these towers of Fréjus, although none the less practically defensive, have a more churchlyappearance than those of Antibes, Grasse, and Vence. Over the vestibuledentrance rises the western tower. Its heavy, rectangular base is thesupport of a super-structure which was replaced in the XVI century byone more in keeping with conventional ecclesiastical models. Then thewindows of the base, whose rounded arches are still traceable, werewalled in; and the new octagonal stage with high windows of its own wascompleted by a tile-covered spire. The more interesting tower is thatwhich surmounts the apse. This was the lookout, facing the sea, thereally vital defence of the church. Its upper room was a storage placefor arms and ammunition, and on the side which faces the city was open, with a broad, pointed arch. Above, the tower ends in machiolatedbattlements and presents a very strong and stern front seaward, perhapsno stronger, but more artistic and grim than towers of other ProvençalCathedrals. The entrance of the church is curiously complicated. To the left is thelittle baptistery; directly before one, a narrow stairway which leads tothe Cloister; and on the right, a low-arched vestibule which opens intothe nave of the Cathedral. The interior of Saint-Etienne is dark andsomewhat gloomy, but that is an inherent trait of a fortress-church, forevery added inch of window-opening brought an ell of danger. The nave isunusually low and broad, and its buttressed piers are of immense weight, ending severely in a plain, moulded band. On these great piers rest thecross-vaults of the roof and the broad arches of the wall. The northaisle, disproportionately narrow, is a later addition. Behind the altaris a true Provençal apse, shallow and rectangular, and beyond itsrounded roof opens the smaller half-dome. Architecturally, this is aninteresting interior; but the traveller who has not time to spend inmusings will fail to see it in its original intention;--cold, severelyplain, heavy, with perhaps too many arch-lines, but sober and simple. Afutile wooden wainscot now surrounds the church and breaks its wallspace, liberal coats of whitewash conceal the building material, andtaking from the church the severity of its stone, give it an appearanceof poor deprecatory bareness. [Illustration: "THE DESECRATION OF THE LITTLE CLOISTER. "--FRÉJUS. ] Near the entrance of the Cathedral is its most ancient portion, thebaptistery, formerly a building apart, but now an integral part of thechurch itself. It is perhaps the most interesting Christian monument inFréjus, a reminder of those early centuries when, in France as in Italy, the little baptistery was the popular form of Christian architecturalexpression. Here it has the very usual octagonal shape; the arches areupheld by grayish columns of granite with capitals of white marble, andin the centre stands the font. Between the columns are smallrecesses, alternately rectangular and semi-domed, and above all, is amodern dome and lantern. Structurally interesting, and reminiscent ofthe stately baptistery of Aix, the effect of this little chamber, likethe church's interior, is marred by the whitewashes from whoseindustrious brushes nothing but the grayish columns have escaped. Andhere again, the traveller who would see the builders' work, free fromthe disfigurements of time, must pause and imagine. Yet even imagination seems powerless before the desecration of thelittle Cloister. Charming it must have been to have entered its quietwalks, with their slender columns of white marble, to have seen thequaint old well in the little, sun-lit close. Now, between the slendercolumns, boards have been placed which shut out light and sun. Thetraveller sat down on an old wheel-barrow, waiting till he could see inthe dim and misty light. All around him was forgetfulness of theCloister's holy uses; signs of desecration and neglect. One end of thecloister-walk was a thoroughfare, where the wheel-barrow had worn itsweary way; and even in the deserted corners there was the dust and dirtof a work-a-day world. The beautiful little capitals of the slendercolumns rose from among the boards, clipped and worn; above, he dimlysaw the curious wooden ceiling which would seem to have taken the placeof the usual stone vaulting; through chinks of the plank-wall he caughtglimpses of a little close; and at length, having seen the mostmelancholy of "Cathedrals of the Sea, " in its disguise of whitewash, decay, and misuse, he went his way. [Sidenote: Antibes. ] That part of the southern coast of France called the Riviera seems nowonly to evoke visions of the most beautiful banality; of a life moreartificial than the stage--which at least aims to presentreality--transplanted to a scene of such incomparable loveliness thatNature herself adds a new and exquisite sumptuousness to the luxury ofcivilisation. The Riviera means a land of many follies and everyvice;--each folly so delicious, each vice so regal, they seem to besought and desired of all men. Where else can be seen in such carelessmagnificence Dukes of Russia with their polish of manner and theirveiled insolence; Englishmen correct and blasé; Americans a bitvociferous and truly amused; great ladies of all ages and manners;adventurers high and low; and the beautiful, sparkling women of no name, bravely dressed and barbarously jewelled? Such is the Riviera of to-day;the life imposed upon it by hordes of foreign idlers in a land whosewarmth and luxuriance may have lent itself but too easily to the viciousand frivolous pleasures for which they have made it notorious, but aland which has no native history that is effeminate, nor any so unworthyas its exotic present. "The Riviera" may be Nice, Beaulieu, and theirlike, but the Provençal Mediterranean and its neighbouring territoryhave been the fatherland of warriors in real mail and of princes of realpower, of the Emperor Pertinax of pagan times, of those who foughtsuccessfully against Mahmoud and Tergament, and of many Knights ofMalta, long the "Forlorn Hope" of Christendom. Discreetly hidden from vulgar eyes that delight in the architecture of themodern caravanserai, are the ruins of these older days--Amphitheatres, Fountains, Temples, and Aqueducts of the Romans; the Castles, Abbeys, and Cathedrals of mediæval times. Here are the larger number, if not themost interesting, of those curious churches of the sea, which protectedthe French townsman of the Mediterranean coast from the rapacity ofsea-rovers and pirates, and many more orthodox enemies of the Middle Ages. From the great beauty of its situation, the small city of Antibes isat once a type of the old régime and of the new. Lying on the sea, with a background of snow-capped mountains, it has not entirelyescaped the fate of Nice; neither has it yet lost all its oldProvençal characteristics. It is a pathetic compromise between thequaint reality of the old and the blatancy of the new. The littleparish church is of the very far past, having lost its Cathedral rankover six hundred years ago to Sainte-Marie in Grasse, a town scarcelyyounger than its own. It is the type of the church of this coast, withits unpretentious smallness, its strength, and its disfiguringrestorations; and it is, especially in comparison with Vence andGrasse, of small architectural interest. The façade, and the doublearchway which connects the church and the tower, are of theunfortunate XVIII century, the older exterior is monotonous, and theinterior, an unpleasing confusion of forms. [Illustration: "THE MILITARY OMEN--THE TOWER. " ANTIBES. ] The real interest of the little Cathedral is its ancient militarystrength, neither very grand nor very imposing, but very real to theenemy who hundreds of years ago hurled himself against the hard, plainstones. From this view-point, the mannered façade and the inharmoniousinterior matter but little. Toward the foe, whose sail might have arisenon the horizon at any moment, the protecting church presented the heavyrounded walls and safely narrowed windows of its three apses, and behindthem the military omen of the severe, rectangular tower. High in everyone of its four sides, seaward and landward, was a window, from whichmany a watcher must have looked and strained anxious eyes. This is thesignificance of the little sea-side Cathedral, this the story its towersuggests. And now when the sea is sailed by peaceful ships, and theCathedral only a place of pious worship, the tower with its gapingwindows is the only salient reminder of the ancient dignity of thechurch; the reminder to an indifferent generation of the days whenAntibes fulfilled to Christians the promise of her old, pagan name, Antipolis, "sentinel" of the perilous sea. [Sidenote: Nice. ] The situation of its Cathedral reveals a Nice of which but little iswritten, the city of a people who live in the service of those whoseshowy, new villas and hotels stretch along the promenades and lie dottedon the hills in the Nice of "all the world. " Besides this exotic city, there is "the Nice of the Niçois, " a small district of dark, crowdedstreets that are too full of the sordid struggles of competingwork-people to be truly picturesque. Here, in the XVI century, when the Citadel of Nice was enlarged and the Cathedral ofSainte-Marie-de-l'Assomption destroyed, the Church of Sainte-Réparatewas re-built, and succeeded to the episcopal rank. Standing on a littleopen square, surrounded by small shops and the poor homes oftrades-folk, it seems in every sense a church of the people. Here thenative Niçois, gay, industrious, mercurial, and dispossessed of histown, may feel truly at home. Finished in the most exuberant rococostyle, it is an edifice from which all architectural or religiousinspiration is conspicuously absent. It is a revel of luxurious badtaste; a Cathedral in Provence, a Cathedral by the Sea, but neitherProvençal nor Maritime, --rather a product of that Italian taste whichhas so profoundly vitiated both the morals and the architecture of allthe Riviera. II. CATHEDRALS OF THE HILL-TOWNS. [Sidenote: Carpentras. ] Carpentras is a busy provincial town, the terminus of three diminutiverailroads and of many little, lumbering, dust-covered stages. It standshigh on a hill, and from the boulevards, dusty promenades underluxuriant shade-trees, which circle the town as its walls formerly did, there is an extended view over the pretty hills and valleys of theneighbouring country. At one end of the town the Hospital rises, animmense, bare, and imposing edifice of the XVIII century, built by aTrappist Bishop; and at the other is the Orange Gate, the last tower ofthe old fortifications. Between these historic buildings and theencircling boulevards are the narrow streets and irregular, uninteresting buildings of the city itself. It is strange indeed that soisolated a place, which seems only a big, bustling country-town, shouldhave been of importance in the Middle Ages, and that bits of itsstirring history must have caused all orthodox Europe to thrill withhorror. Stranger still would be the forgetfulness of modern writers, bywhom Carpentras is seldom mentioned, were it not that the city's realhistory is that of the Church political, a story of strange manners andhappenings, rather than a step in the vital evolution towards our owntime. In the Middle Ages Carpentras was an episcopal city, the capital of theCounty Venaissin, governed by wealthy, powerful, and ambitious Bishops, who took no small interest in worldly aggrandisement. Passing by gift tothe Papacy, after the sudden death of Clement V it was selected as theplace of the Conclave which was to elect his successor. The members wereassembled in the great episcopal Palace, when Bertrand de Goth, a nephewof the dead Pope, claiming to be an ally of the French prelates againstthe Italians in the Conclave, arrived from a successful looting of thepapal treasury at Montreux to pillage in Carpentras. He and hismercenaries massacred the citizens and burned the Cathedral. Theepiscopal Palace caught fire, and their Eminences--in danger of theirlives--were forced to squeeze their sacred persons through a hole whichtheir followers made in the Palace wall and fly northward. This unfortunate raid left Carpentras with many ruins and a demolishedCathedral, deserted by those in whose cause she had unwittinglysuffered. The new Pontiff was safely elected in Lyons, and upon hisreturn to the papal seat of Avignon he administered Carpentras by a"rector, " and it continued as it had been before, the political capitalof the County. During the reigns of succeeding Popes it was apparentlyundisturbed by dangerous honours, until the accession of the Anti-Pope, Benedict XIII. So great was this prelate's delight in the city that hereserved to himself the minor title of her Bishop, re-built her walls, and was the first patron of the present and very orthodox Cathedral, Saint-Siffrein. By a curious destiny, the church had this false prelatenot only as its first patron, but as its first active supporter; and in1404 he sent Artaud, Archbishop of Arles, in his name, to lay its firststone. Wars and rumours of wars soon possessed the province. Benedict fled, andthrough unrest and lack of money the work of Cathedral building wasgreatly hindered. In the meantime the ruins of the former Cathedral seemto have been gradually disintegrating, and in 1829 the last of itsCloister was destroyed, to be replaced by prison cells; and now only thechoir dome and a suggestion of the nave exist, partly forming thepresent sacristy. From these meagre remains and from writings of thetime, it may be fairly inferred that Saint-Pierre was a Cathedral of thetype of Avignon and Cavaillon and the old Marseillaise Church of LaMajeure, and that, architecturally considered, it was a far moreimportant structure than Saint-Siffrein. With this depressing knowledgein mind the traveller was confronted with a sight as depressing--thepresent Cathedral itself. Fortunately, churches of a period antedating the XVII century are seldomso uninteresting. Nothing more meagre nor dreary can be conceived thanthe façade with its three, poor, characterless portals. They open on alarge vaulted hall, with chapels in its six bays and a small and narrowchoir. The principal charm of the interior is negative; its dim mistylight, by concealing a mass of tasteless decorations and the poverty andbareness of the whole architectural scheme, gives to the generous heightand size of the room an atmosphere of subdued and mysteriousspaciousness. The south door is the one bit of this Gothic which passesthe commonplace. Set in a poor, plain wall, the portal has a gracefulsymmetry of design; and its few carved details, probably limited by theartistic power of its builder, are so simple and chaste that they do notinevitably suggest poverty of conception. The tympanum holds an exoticdetail, a defaced and insignificant fresco of the Coronation of theVirgin; and on the pier which divides the door-way stands a verycharming statue of Our Lady of Snows, blessing those who enter beneathher outstretched hands. This simple portal, and indeed the whole church, is a significantexample of Provençal Gothic, a style so foreign to the genius of theprovince that it could produce only feeble and attenuated examples ofthe art. Compared with its northern prototypes, it is surprisinglytentative; and awkward, unaccustomed hands seem to have built it aftermost primitive conceptions. [Sidenote: Digne. ] Well outside the Alpine city of Digne, and almost surrounded by graves, stands a small and ancient church which is seldom opened except for thecelebration of Masses for the Dead. Coffin-rests stand always before thealtar, and enough chairs for the few that mourn. There are oldcandlesticks for the tapers of the church's poor, and hidden in theshadows of the doors, a few broken crosses that once marked graves, placed, tenderly perhaps, above those who were alive some years ago andwho now rest forgotten; on battered wood, one can still read a baby'sage, an old man's record, and the letters R. I. P. In this strange, melancholy destiny of Notre-Dame-du-Bourg there seemsto be a peculiar fitness. The mutability of time, forgetfulness, and atlength neglect, which death suggests, are brought to mind by this oldchurch. Once the Cathedral of Digne, but no longer Cathedral, it standsalmost alone in spite of its honours and its venerable age. After thedesecration by the Huguenots, its episcopal birthright was given to ayounger and a larger church; the city has moved away and clusters aboutits new Cathedral, Saint-Jérome; and Notre-Dame-du-Bourg is no longer ona busy street, but near the dusty high-road, amid the quiet of thecountry and the hills. Parts of its crypt and tower may antedate 900, but the church itself wasre-built in the XII and XIII centuries. The course of time has broughtnone of the incongruities which have ruined many churches by theso-called restorations of the last three hundred years, and although itssimple Romanesque is sadly unrepaired, it is a delight to come into thesolitude and find an unspoiled example of this stanch old style. [Illustration: THE INTERIOR OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-BOURG. --DIGNE. ] The Romanesque shows forth its great solidity in the exterior of itschurches, and nowhere more than in Digne's deserted Cathedral. Flatbuttresses line the walls, the transepts are square and plain, and oneither side the façade wall is upheld by a formidable support. Thisseverity of line is not greatly modified by the deep recesses of a fewwindows; nor is the tower--which lost its spire three hundred yearsago--of less sober construction, less solidly built. Below theoverhanging eaves of a miserable roof and the curious line of the navevault which projects through the wall, is a round window with a frame ofmassive rolls and hollows; and below this again, under a narrow slopingcovering, is the deep arch of the Cathedral's porch. This, in its prime, must have been the church's ornamental glory. Beneath the outer arch, which is continued to the buttresses by half-arches, are the greatroll-mouldings that twist backward to a plain tympanum. Capitals stillsupport these massive curves of stone, but the niches in which thecolumns formerly stood are empty, and grinning lions, lying on theground, no longer support the larger columns of the plain arch. Allstands in solemn decay. The traveller entered a battered, brass-nailed door and saw before himthe stretch of a single, empty nave, a choir beneath whose lower vaultare three small windows, and on either side the archways which he knewmust lead to narrow transepts. In the south side, plain, rounded windowsgive a glimmering light, and over each projects an arch, the modestdecoration of the walls. Far above rises the tunnel-vault, whose sheerheight is grandly dignified; the arches rest on roughly carved capitals, and the outer rectangle of the piers is displaced for half a column. Therehearsal of these most simple details seems but the writing of "theletter which killeth, " and not the portrayal of the spirit that seems tolive within these walls. Details which seem so poorly few when read, arenobly so when seen. This small old church has a true religiousstateliness, and it seemed as if a priest should bring theSanctuary-light which says, "The Lord is in His holy temple. " Saint-Jérome was built between 1490 and 1500, a hundred years before itsepiscopal elevation, and forms a most complete antithesis toNotre-Dame-du-Bourg which it supplanted in 1591. Where Notre-Dame issmall, Saint-Jérome is large, where the old church is simple, the newerone is either pretentious or sumptuous, and where the one is Romanesque, the other is Gothic. The present Cathedral stands on the heights of the city; and from oneside or another its clean, straight walls can be seen in all their largeangularity and absence of architectural significance. Towers riseconventionally above the façade; and a big broad flight of white stonesteps leads to three modern portals that have been built in aneconomical imitation of the sculptured richness of the XIII century. The interior, also Gothic, has neither clerestory nor triforium, and itsnaves are covered by a vaulting which springs broadly from the round, supporting piers. The conception is not noble, it has no simplicity, andno more of spiritual suggestion than a Madonna of Titian; but the spaceof the nave is so largely generous and the new polychrome so richlytoned that the church has majesty of space and harmony, deep lights andsubdued colourings; it is large and sumptuous with the munificence of aVeronese canvas, a singular and most curious contrast to the coldseverity of its outer walls. [Illustration: "THE INTERIOR HAS NEITHER CLERESTORY NORTRIFORIUM. "--DIGNE. ] Before the High Altar of this Church lies buried one whose spiritsuggests the Christ, a Bishop, yet a simple priest, whose life deservesmore words than does the whole of Saint-Jérome, once hisCathedral-church. He was a Curé of Brignoles, one of those keen, yetsimple-hearted and hard-working priests who often bless Provençal towns. He had no great ambitions, no patronage, no ties except a far-offbrother who was an upstart general of that most upstart Emperor, Napoleon. One day while the priest was pottering in his littlegarden, --as Provençal Curés love to dig and work, --a letter was handedhim, marked "thirty sous of postage due. " He was outraged. His shiningold soutane fell from the folds in which he had prudently tucked it, heshrugged his shoulders and protested, --"A great expense indeed for atrivial purpose. Where should he find another thirty sous for his poor?He never wrote letters. Therefore by no argument of any school of logiccould he be compelled to receive them. Obviously this was not for him. "The unexpected letter was one for which his brother had asked and whichNapoleon had signed, a decree which made him Bishop. Long afterwards this simple, saintly prelate saved a man from crime, andhistory relates that this same man died at Waterloo as a good andfaithful soldier fighting for the fatherland. His benefactor, that loyalservant of Christ and His Church, soon followed him in death, and unlikemany a Saint whom this earth forgets his memory lives on, not only inthe little city of the snow-clad Alps, but in the hearts of those whoread of his good deeds. For Monseigneur Miollis of Digne is trulyMonseigneur Bienvenu of "Les Misérables, " and only the soldier ofWaterloo was glorified in Jean Valjean. [Sidenote: Forcalquier. ] If it is difficult to picture sleepy, stately Aix as one of the mostbrilliant centres of mediæval Europe, and the garrisoned castle ofTarascon filled with the gay courtiers and fair ladies of King René'sCourt, it will be almost impossible to walk in the smaller Provençal"cities, " and see in imagination the cavalcades of mailed soldiers whoclattered through the streets on their way to the castle of somenear-by hill-top, my lord proudly distinguishable by his mount or thelength of his plume, a delicate Countess languishing between thecurtains of her litter, or a more sprightly one who rode her palfrey andsmiled on the staring townsfolk. It is almost impossible to conceivethat the four daughters of Raymond Bérenger, a Queen of the Romans, ofFrance, of Naples, and of England, were brought up in the castle of thelittle hillside hamlet of Saint-Maime Dauphin. Provence is quiet, rural, provincial; a land of markets, busy country inns, and farms; not ofmodern greatness nor of modern renown. Its children are a fine and busyrace, no less strong and fine than in the land's more stirring times, but they live their years of greatness in other, "more progressive"parts of France, and the Provençal genius, which remains very native tothe soil, is broadly known to fame as "French. " Like some rich old winehidden in the cellars of the few, Provence lies safely ensconced behindAvignon and Arles, and only the epicures of history penetrate her hills. Her mediæval ruins seem to belong to a past almost as dead and ghostlyas her Roman days, and to realise her Middle Ages, one must leave thebusy people in the town below, climb one of the hills, and sittingbeside the crumbling walls of some great tower or castle, watch the hotsun setting behind the low mountains and lighting in a glow the barewalls of some other ruined stronghold on a neighbouring height. Theshadows creep into the valleys, the rocks grow grey and cold, and theclusters of trees beside them become darkly mysterious. Then far beneatha white thread seems to appear, beginning at the valley's entrance andtwisting along its length until it disappears behind another hill. Thisis the road; and by the time the eye has followed its long course, daylight has grown fainter. Then Provence takes on a long-lostsplendour. To those who care to see, cavalcades of soldiers or ofhunters come home along the road, castles become whole and frowning, thedying sun casts its light through their gaping window-holes, as light ofnightly revels used to shine, and a phantom Mediævalism appears. One of the powerful families of the country, the Counts of Forcalquier, sprang from the House of Bérenger in the XI century, and a hundred andfifty years later, grown too great, were crushed by the haughty parenthouse. More than one hill of Eastern Provence has borne their tallwatchtowers, more than one village owed them allegiance, and a largetown in the hills was their capital and bore their name. And yet not aruined tower that overlooks the Provençal mountains, not a village, gate, or castle--Manosque or old Saint-Maime, --but speaks more vividlyof the old Counts than does Forcalquier, formerly their city, now a merecountry town which has lost prestige with its increasing isolation, manyof its inhabitants by plagues and wars, and almost all of itspicturesque Mediævalism through the destructiveness of sieges. Long before this day of contented stagnancy, in 1061, when Forcalquier, fortified, growing, and important, claimed many honours, Bishop GérardCaprérius of Sisteron had given the city a Provost and a Chapter, andcreated the Church of Saint-Mary, co-cathedral with that of Notre-Dameof Sisteron. Not contented with this honour, Forcalquier demanded andreceived a Bishopric of her own. Her hill was then crowned by a Citadel, her Cathedral stood near-by, her walls were intact. Now the Citadel isreplaced by a peaceful pilgrims' chapel, the walls are gone, Saint-Mary, ruined in the siege of 1486, is recalled only by a few weed-coveredstumps and bits of wall, and its title was given to Notre-Dame in thelower part of the town. No Cathedral is a sadder example of architectural failure thanNotre-Dame of Forcalquier because it has so many of the beginnings ofreal beauty and dignity, so many parts of real worthiness that have beenunfortunately combined in a confused and discordant whole. If, of alllittle cities of Provence, Forcalquier is one of the least unique andleast holding, its Cathedral is also one of the least satisfying. It isnot beautiful in situation nor in its own essential harmony, and thefine but tantalising perspectives of its interior may be found again inhappier churches. The exterior shows to a superlative degree that general tendency ofProvençal exteriors to be without definite or logical proportions. Alarge, square tower, heavier than that of Grasse, served as a lookout, atall, thin little turret served as a belfry. In the façade there is aGothic portal which notwithstanding its entire mediocrity is the chiefadornment of the outer walls. They are irregular and uncouth to a degreeand their only interesting features are at the eastern end. Here thesmaller, older apses on either side betray the church's early origin. The central apse, evidently of the same dimensions as the Romanesque oneoriginally designed, was re-built in severe, rudimentary Gothic. Lookingat this shallow apse alone, and following its plain lines until theymeet those of the big tower, there is a straight simplicity that isalmost fine, --but this is one mere detail in a large and barren whole, and the Cathedral-seeker turns to the nearest entrance. [Illustration: "A LARGE, SQUARE TOWER SERVED AS ALOOKOUT. "--FORCALQUIER. ] [Illustration: "A SUGGESTIVE VIEW FROM THE SIDE AISLE. "--FORCALQUIER. ] The first glimpse of the interior is so relieving that one is not quickto notice its lack of architectural unity. The few windows give a softlight, and the brown of the stone has a mellowness that is both rich andreposeful. If the Cathedral could have been finished in the style of thefirst bays of the nave, it would have been a nobly dignified example ofthe Romanesque. Could it have been re-built in the slender Gothic of thelast bay, it would have been an exquisite example of Provençal Gothic. Rather largely planned, its old form of tunnel vaulting and the finecurve of its nave arches and heavy piers are in violent contrast to theGothic bay, with its pointed arch, its clustered columns and carvedcapitals, which, even with the shallow choir and its long, slim windows, is too slight a portion of the Cathedral to have independence or realbeauty. From its ritualistic position, it is the culminating point ofthe church, and its discord with the Romanesque is unpleasantlyinsistent. The side aisles, which were built in the XVII century, arelow, agreeable walks ending in the chapels of the smaller apses. Theyare neither very regular nor very significant; but they give the churchpleasant size and perspectives, and by avoiding the unduly large andshining modern chandeliers which hang between the nave arches, one getsfrom these side aisles the suggestive views which show only too wellwhat true and good architectural ideas were brought to confusion in there-building, the additions, and the restorations of the centuries. Inpainting, anachronisms may be quaint or even amusing; but inarchitecture, they are either grotesque or tragic, and in a church ofsuch fine suggestiveness as Notre-Dame at Forcalquier, one is haunted bylingering regrets for what might and should have been. [Sidenote: Vence. ] A founder of the French Academy and one of its first immortal forty wasAntoine Godeau, "the idol of the Hôtel Rambouillet. " His mind wasformed, as it were, by one of the most clever women of that brilliantlyfoolish coterie, he sang frivolous sonnets to a beautiful red-hairedmistress whom he sincerely admired, and when he entered Holy Church, none of his charming friends believed that he would do more than modifythe proper and agreeable conventionalities of his former life. Theythought that he would add to the grace of his worldly manner the suavityof the ecclesiastic, that he would choose a pulpit of Paris, and that, sitting at his feet, they could enjoy the elegant phrases with which hewould embellish a refined and delicately attenuated religion. But anaged prelate of the far South judged the new priest differently, he hadsounded the heart of the man who, at the age of thirty, had quietlyrenounced a flattering, admiring world; and his dying prayer toRichelieu was that Godeau should succeed him in the See of Vence. Thekeen worldly wisdom of the Cardinal confirmed the old Bishop's morespiritual insight, and Godeau was named Bishop of the neighbouringGrasse. Far away in his mountain-city of flower gardens and sweet odours, thenew Bishop wrote to his Parisian friends that, for his part, he "foundmore thorns than orange-blossoms. " The Calvinists, from the rock ofAntibes, openly defied him; in spite of the vehement opposition of theirChapters and against his will, the Bishoprics of Grasse and Vence wereunited, and he was made the Bishop of the two warring, discontentedSees. He was stoned at Vence; and even his colleague in temporal power, the Marquis of Villeneuve, showed himself as insolent as he dared. Atlength the King came to his aid, and being given his choice of the Sees, Godeau immediately left "the perfumed wench, " as he called Grasse, andchose to live and work among his one-time enemies of Vence. This gentleand courageous prelate is typical of the long line of wise men who ruledthe Church in the tight little city of the Provençal hills. From SaintVéran the wonder-worker, and Saint Lambert the tender nurse of lepers, to the end, they were men noted for bravery, goodness, and learning, andit was not till the Revolution that one was found--and fittingly thelast--who, hating the "Oath" and fearing the guillotine, fled his See. This city of good Bishops was founded in the dim, pagan past of Gaul. From a rocky hill-top, its inhabitants had watched the burning of theirfirst valley-town and they founded the second Vence on that height ofsafety to which they had escaped with their lives. Here, far above theAurelian road, the Gallic tribes had a strong and isolated camp. Thenthe prying Romans found them out, and priests of Mars and Cybelereplaced those of the cruder native gods, and they, in turn, gave way tothe apostle of the Christians. Where a temple stood, a church was built;and unlike many early saints who looked upon old pagan images as homesof devils and broke them into a thousand pieces with holy wrath andwords of exorcism, the prelate of Vence buried an image of a vanquishedgod under each and every pillar of his church, in sign of Christiantriumph. These early days of the Faith were days of growth for the little city, and she prospered in her Mediævalism. High on her hill, she was toodifficult of access to suffer greatly from marauding foes, and hiddenfrom the sea, she did not excite the cupidity of the Mediterraneanrovers. When Antibes and Nice were sacked, her little ledge of rock wassafe; and people crowded thick and fast behind her walls, until nobee-hive swarmed so thick with bees as her few streets with citizens. Here were arts and occupations, burghers and charters, riches andliberties. Here came the Renaissance, and Vence had eager, if not famoussculptors, painters, and organ-builders, and a family of artists whomeven the dilettante Francis I deigned to patronise. Such memories of a busy, energetic past seem fairy-tales to those whowalk to-day about the dark and narrow streets of Vence. She scarcely hasoutgrown her ancient walls, her civic life is dead, and in her virtualisolation from the modern world she lives a dreary, quiet old age. The old Cathedral, Notre-Dame, lies in the heart of the town; and takesone back along the years, far past the Renaissance, to those grimmediæval days when even churches were places of defence. It is a low, unimpressive building, said to have been built on the site of the RomanTemple in the IV century. Enlarged or re-built in the X century, it wasthen long and narrow, a Latin cross. But in the XII century, deep, darkbays were added; in the XV, tribunes were built, the form of the apsewas changed to an oval and it was decorated in an inharmonious style;and a hundred years ago the nave vault was re-built in an ellipse. [Illustration: "THE OLD ROUND ARCH OF THE BISHOP'S PALACE. "--VENCE. ] In the side wall there is a low portal of a late, decadent style, whichopens on the little square, but there is no real façade; and to see thechurch, the traveller passed under the old round arch of the Bishop'sPalace, through a small, damp street to another tinier square where theapse and tower stand. The little Cathedral-churches of Provence arealways simply built, but here a rectangle, a low gabled roof, a small, round-headed window in the wall, would have been architectural barenessif a high, straight tower had not crowned it all. This crenellated toweris a true type of its time, square, yet slim and strong, and crudelygraceful as some tall young poplar of the plains beneath. In the XI andXII centuries, its early days, it was the city's lookout. Families livedhigh up in its walls, and the traveller could imagine, in this littleold, deserted square, the crowds who gathered round the tower's base, and called for news of enemies and battle as moderns gather about themore prosaic bulletin of printed news. He could see them surging, peering up; and from above he almost heard the watcher's cry, "They'recoming on, "--with the great answering howl beneath, and the rush toarms. Or, "They pass us by, " and then what breaking into little laughinggroups, what joy, what dancing, and what praying, that lasted far intothe evening hours. [Illustration: "THE LOW, BROAD ARCHES AND THE GREAT, SUPPORTINGPILLARS. "--VENCE. ] The traveller came back in thought to modern times and went into thechurch, that church of five low naves and many restorations, thatproduct of most diverse fancies. It is painted in lugubrious white, andits pillars have false bases in a palpable imitation of veined redmarble. Its pure and early form, the Latin cross, is gone, its fine oldstalls are hidden in a gallery, and at the altar Corinthian columnsdesecrate its ancient Romanesque. Yet in spite of the incongruities theatmosphere of the church is truly that of its dim past. There are thelow broad arches, the great, supporting pillars that are massivebuttresses; there is the simple practicality of a style that aimed at aprotecting strength rather than at any art of beauty; there is thesemi-darkness of the small, safe windows, and the little, guarded spacewhere the praying few increased a thousand-fold in times of danger. Thisis, in spite of all defects, the small Provençal church where in days ofpeace cloudy incense slowly circled round the shadowy forms of chantingpriests, and where in times of war a crowd of frightened women and theirchildren prayed in safety for the men who sallied forth to fight intheir defence. [Sidenote: Grasse. ] He who is unloving of the past may well rush by its treasures in apuffing automobile, he who is bored by olden thoughts can hurry on byrail, but the man who wishes to know the old hill-towns of France, tosee them as they seemed to their makers, and realise their one-timemagnificence and strength, must walk from one town to the next, andclimb their steep heights; must see great towers rise before him, greatwalls loom above him, and realise how grandly strong these places werewhen it was man to man and sword to sword, strength against strength. Hemust arrive, dust-covered, at the cities' gates or drive into theirnarrow streets on the small coach which still passes through, --for theyare of the times when great men rode and peasants walked and steam wasall unknown. Then he will realise how very large the world once was, howfar from town to town; and once within those high, protecting walls, hewill understand why the citizen of mediæval days found in his town aworld sufficient to itself, and why he was so often well content tospend his life at home. The power and the force of an isolated, self-concentrated interest iswell illustrated in the history of the free cities of the Middle Ages, and Grasse may be counted one of these. Counts she had in name; but theBérengers and Queen Jeanne had granted her charters which she had thepower to keep; she was once wealthy enough to declare war with Pisa, andin the XII century the leaders of her self-government were "Consuls bythe grace of God alone. " Therefore when Antibes continued to be greatlymenaced by blasphemous pirates, the Bishopric was removed to Grasse, rich, strong, and safe behind the hills, where it endured from 1244, through all the perils of the centuries, until by a pen-stroke Napoleonwiped it out in 1801. [Illustration: "HIGHER THAN THEM ALL STANDS THE CATHEDRAL. "--GRASSE. ] To come to Grasse on foot or in the stage, will well repay the travellerof old-fashioned moods and fancies. Afar, her houses seem to crowdtogether, as they used to crowd within the walls, her red roofs risefantastically one above the other, and higher than them all stands theCathedral with its firm, square tower. Such must have been old Grasse, perched on the summit of her hill. But once inside the town, theseillusions cease. Here are the hotels and the Casino of a thermalstation, and the factories of a new world. The traveller finds that thebroad upper boulevards are filled with tourists and smart Englishvisitors; and in the narrow streets pert factory-hands come noisily fromwork. Still he climbs on toward the Cathedral, through tortuous streetsand little alley-ways. And in the gloomiest of them all there is noodour of a stale antiquity, but the perfume of a garden-full of roses, of a thousand orange-blossoms, and of locusts, honey-sweet, and hebegins to think himself enchanted. He feels the dark, old houses areunreal, as if, instead of cobble-stones beneath his feet, there must bethe soft and tender grass of Araby the Blest. Such is the magic of atrade, the perfume industry of Grasse that for so many hundreds of yearshas made her meanest streets full of refreshing fragrance. Breathless from the climb, the traveller stepped at length into thelittle square, before a most ungainly Cathedral. "Chiefly built in theXII century, " it may have been, but so bedizened by the Renaissance thatits heavy old Provençal walls and massive pillars seem to exist merelyas supports for additions or unreasonable decorations of a poor Italianstyle. A certain Monseigneur of the XVII century re-built the choir in adeep, rectangular form; another prelate enlarged the church proper andruined it by constructing a tribune over the aisles, and desiring therevenues of a new burial-place, he ordered Vauban to accomplish thedaring construction of a crypt. Still another Bishop with likearchitectural tastes built a large new chapel which opens from the southaisle; and with these additions and XVIII century changes in the façade, the original style of the church was obscured. In spite of the pitifulremains of dignity which its three aisles, its firm old pillars, and itsheight still give to the interior, it is as a whole so mean a buildingthat it has fittingly lost the title of Cathedral. [Illustration: THE "PONT D'AVIGNON. "] III. RIVER-SIDE CATHEDRALS. [Sidenote: Avignon. ] Everything which surrounds the Cathedral of Avignon, its situation, itscity, its history, is so full of romance and glamour that it is onlyafter very sober second thought one realises that the church itself isthe least of the papal buildings which majestically overtower the Rhone, or of those royal ruins which face them as proudly on the opposite bankof the river. Yet no church in Provence is richer in tradition, and inhistory more romantic than tradition. The foundation of this church goes back to the first Avignon, a smallcolony of river-fishermen which gave way before the Romans, whoestablished a city, Avernio, on the great rocky hill two hundred feetabove the Rhone. Some hundreds of years later the first Christianmissionaries to Gaul landed near the mouth of this river, --Mary themother of James, Saint Sara the patron of gypsies, Lazarus, his sisterMartha, and Saint Maximin. Before these storm-tossed Saints lay the fairand pagan country of Provence, the scene of their future mission; and iftradition is to be further believed, each went his way, to work mightilyfor the sacred cause. Maximin lived in the town that bears his name, Lazarus became the first Bishop of Marseilles, and Saint Martha ascendedthe Rhone as far as Avignon and built near the site of the presentCathedral an oratory in honour of the Virgin "then living on the earth. "Two early churches, of which this chapel was perhaps a part, weredestroyed in the Saracenic sieges of the VIII century; an inscription inthe porch of the present Cathedral records the very interesting mediævalaccount of its re-building and re-consecration nearly a hundred yearslater. It was, so runs the tale, the habit of a devout woman to pray inthe church every night; and after the Cathedral had been finished by thegenerous aid of Charlemagne, she happened there at midnight, andwitnessed the descent of Christ in wondrous, shining light. There at theHigh Altar, surrounded by ministering angels, he dedicated the Cathedralto His Mother, Our Lady of Cathedrals; and so it has been called to thepresent day. If it is an impossible and ungrateful task to disprove thatthe re-construction, or at least the re-founding of this Cathedral wasthe work of Charlemagne, so munificent a patron and dutiful a son of theChurch, to prove it is equally impossible. A martyrology of the XIcentury speaks of a dedication in 1069, but as this ceremony had beenpreceded by another extensive re-building, and was followed by manyother changes, the oldest portions of the present church are to be mostaccurately ascribed to the XI, XII, and XIV centuries. The additions ofthe centuries following the papal return to Rome have greatly changedthe appearance of the church. A large chapel, built in 1506, givesalmost a northern nave. In 1671, Archbishop Ariosto thought the interiorwould be gracefully improved by a Renaissance gallery which shouldencircle the entire nave from one end of the choir to the other. Toaccomplish this new work, the old main piers below the gallery were cutaway, the wall arches were changed, and columns and piers, almostentirely new, arose to support a shallow, gracefully balustraded balconyand its bases of massive carving. Nine years later a new Archbishopadded to the north side a square XVII century chapel, richly ornamentalin itself, but entirely out of harmony with the fundamental style of thechurch. Other chapels, less distinguished, which have been added fromtime to time, line the nave both north and south, and all are excrescentto the original plan. Of the exterior, only the façade retains itsprimitive character. The side-walls, "entirely featureless, " as has beenwell said, "reflect only the various periods of the chapels which havebeen added to the Cathedral, " and the apse was re-built in 1671, in aheavy, uninteresting form. [Illustration: "THE INTERIOR HAS A SHALLOW, GRACEFULLY BALUSTRADEDBALCONY. "--AVIGNON. ] These additions, superimposed ornamentations, and rebuildings, togetherwith the very substantial substructure of the primitive Cathedral, formto-day a small church of unimpressive, conglomerate style, and exceptfor its history, unnoteworthy. It is therefore a church whose interestis almost wholly of the past; and the traveller goes back inimagination, century after century, to the era of Papal residency, whenthe Cathedral was not only ecclesiastically important, butarchitecturally in its best and purest form. This church, which ClementV found on his removal to Avignon, and which may still be easily traced, was of the simple, primitive Provençal style. No dates of that periodare sufficiently accurate to rely upon; but its interest lies not somuch in chronology as in its portrayal of the general type. The interioris the usual little hall church of the XI century, with its aisle-lessnave of five bays, and plain piers supporting a tunnelled roof, withdouble vault arches. Beyond the last bay, over the choir, is theCathedral's octagonal dome, and from the rounded windows of its lanterncomes much of the light of the interior, which is sombre and withoutother windows of importance. The façade is architecturally one of the most significant parts of thechurch. Above the portal the wall is supported on either side by plainheavy buttresses, and directly continued by the solid bulk of the tower. In 1431 this tower replaced the original one which fell in theearthquake of 1405. It is conjecturally similar, a heavy rectangle whichquite overweighs the church; plain, with its stiff pilasters and twostories of rounded windows; without grace or proper proportion, butpleasing by the unblemished severity of its lines. Above the balustradewith which the tower may be properly said to terminate, the religiousart of the XIX century has erected as its contribution to the Cathedrala series of steps, an octagon, and a colossal, mal-proportioned statueof the Virgin. These additions are inharmonious; and the finest part ofthe façade is the porch, so classic in detail that it was formerlysupposed to be Roman, a work of the Emperor Constantine. Like the restof the church, its general structure is plain and somewhat severe, withsmall, richly carved details, in this instance closely Corinthian. Therounded portal of entrance is an entablature, enclosed as it were bytwo supporting columns; and above, in the pointed pediment, is acircular opening curiously foreshadowing that magnificent development ofthe North--the rose-window. Passing through the vestibule, whosetunnel-vault supports the tower, the minor portal appears, almost areplica of the outer door, and the whole forms an unusual mode ofentrance, graceful in detail, ponderous in general effect. Far behindthe tower of the façade rises the last significant feature of theexterior, the little lantern. It is an octagon with Doric and Corinthianmotifs, continuing the essential characteristics of the interior, andexceedingly typical of Provence. [Illustration: "THE PORCH SO CLASSIC IN DETAIL. "--AVIGNON. _From an oldprint. _] Into this church, with its few, unusually classic details, itsProvençal simplicity, its very modest size and plainness, themunificence of papal pomp was introduced. This was in 1308, an era ofpapal storm and stress. Not ten years before, Boniface VIII, with thetradition of Canossa spurring his haughty ambitions, had launched a bullagainst Philip III, whom he knew to be a bad king and whom he was tofind an equally bad, rebellious Christian. "God, " said the Prelate, fromRome, "has constituted us, though unworthy, above kings and kingdoms, toseize, destroy, disperse, build, and plant in His name and by Hisdoctrine. Therefore, do not persuade thyself that thou hast no superior, and that thou art not subject to the head of the ecclesiasticalhierarchy; he who thinks thus is insensate, he who maintains it isinfidel. " Past indeed was the time of Henry of Germany, long past the proud daywhen a Pope received an Emperor who knelt and waited in the snow. Philipburned the Bull; and to prevent other like fulminations, sent an agentinto Italy. Gathering a band, he found the aged Pontiff at Anagni, hisbirthplace, seated on a throne, crowned with the triple crown, the Crossin one hand and in the other Saint Peter's Keys, the terrible Keys ofHeaven and Hell. They called on him to abdicate, but Boniface thought ofChrist his Lord, and cried out in defiant answer, "Here is my neck, hereis my head. Betrayed like Jesus Christ, if I must die like him, I willat least die Pope. " For reply, Sciarra Colonna, one of his own RomanCounts, struck him in the face. Buffeted by a noble, and openly defiedby a king, Boniface died "of shame and anger. " A month later, this sameking rejoiced, if nothing more, at the death of the Pope's successor;and in the dark forests of Saint-Jean-d'Angély, Philip bargained andsold the great Tiara to a Gascon Archbishop who, if Villani speakstruly, "threw himself at the royal feet, saying, 'It is for thee tocommand and for me to obey; such will ever be my disposition!'" As wasnot unnatural, the will of the French king was that the Pope shouldremain within the zone of royal influence. So Clement lived at Bordeauxand at Poitiers, and finally retired to the County of Venaissin whichthe Holy See possessed by right, and established the pontifical court atAvignon. This transfer of the papal residence to Avignon has left many and deeptraces on the history of French Catholicism. The Holy See was no longerfar remote; the French ecclesiastic desirous of promotion had nodangerous mountains to traverse, no strange city to enter, no foreignPontiff to besiege, ignorant or indifferent to his claims. The nextsuccessor of Saint Peter would logically be a Frenchman, and there wasnot only a possibility, but a probability for every man of note, that hemight be either the occupant of the Sacred Chair or its favouredsupporter. So Avignon became a city of priests as Rome had been beforeher; and as France was the richest country in Europe and the Churchregally wealthy, splendour, luxury, and constant religious spectaclesrejoiced the city, and Bishop, Archbishop, and Abbot, brazenlyneglecting the duties of their Sees, lived here and were seldom "inresidence. " Every one had a secret ambition. Of such a situation, thePopes were not slow to reap the benefits. Difference of wealth, whichbrought difference of position, counted much and was keenly felt. Abbotsof smaller monasteries found themselves inferior to Bishops, especiallyin freedom from papal interference; while from the inherent wealth andpower of their foundations, the heads of the great monasteries rankedsometimes with Archbishops, sometimes even with Cardinals. The Pope hadthe right to elevate an Abbey or a Priory into a Bishopric, and thosewho could offer the "gratification" or the "provocative, " mightreasonably hope for the desired elevation which at once increased theirlocal importance, belittled a neighbouring diocese, and freed them tosome extent from the direct intermeddling of the Pope. The applicationsfor such an increase of power became numerous, and by 1320 a number ofBenedictine Abbeys had been made Bishoprics. Their creation greatlydecreased the direct and intimate power of the Papacy, but temporarilyincreased the papal treasury; and John XXII, who left ten million piecesof silver and fifteen million in gold with his Florentine bankers, seemsto have thought philosophically, "After us, the deluge. " [Illustration: NOTRE-DAME-DES-DOMS. --AVIGNON] Another favourite diplomatic and financial device, which was invented bythese famous Popes of Avignon, was the system of the "Commende, " whichenabled relatives of nobles and all those whom it was desirable toplacate, not alone ecclesiastics, but mere laymen and bloody barons, tobecome "Commendatory Abbots" or "Commendatory Priors, " and to receive atleast one-third of the monastery's revenues, without being in any wayresponsible for the monastery's welfare. This care was left to aPrior or a Sub-prior, a sort of clerical administrator who, crippled inmeans and in influence, was sometimes unable, sometimes unwilling, tocarry out the duties and beneficences of past ages, and who was alwaysthe victim of a great injustice. The depths of uselessness to which thisinfamous practice reduced monastic establishments may be inferred, whenit is remembered that before the XVIII century the famous Abbey of LaBaume had had thirteen Commendatory Abbots, and that the bastards ofLouis XIV were Commendatory Priors in their infancy. The Popes found the Commende useful, not only as a means of income, butas a method--at once secure and lucrative--of gaining to their cause thegreat feudal lords of France, and making the power of these lords anadded buffer, as it were, between Avignon and the grasping might of theFrench Kings. For although the Popes were under "the special protection"of the Kings, it was as sheep under the special protection of a shearer, and they found that they must protect themselves against a too "special"and royal fleecing. For they did not always agree that-- "'Tis as goodly a match as match can be To marry the Church and the fleur-de-lis Should either mate a-straying go, Then each--too late--will own 'twas so. '" [Illustration: "THE TOWER OF PHILIP THE FAIR. "--VILLENEUVE-LES-AVIGNON. ] Haunted by the humiliation of their heaven-sent power, caged in"Babylonish captivity, " it is conceivable that the Popes were toooccupied or, perhaps too distracted, to object to the unsuitablemodesty of Notre-Dame-des-Doms. When a Pope swept forth from hisCathedral, new-crowned, to give "urbis et orbi" his first pontificalbenediction, his eye glanced, it is true, on the crowds prostrate beforehim, before the church, awed and breathless; but it fell lingeringly--itwas irresistibly drawn--across the swift Rhone to the town of the kingswho had defied his power, to the royal city of Villeneuve, and to thestrong tower of Philip the Fair, standing proudly in the sunlight. Wouldit be thought strange if their thoughts wandered, or if the portraits ofthe "French Popes" which hang about the Cathedral walls at Avignon, show more worldly preoccupation than is becoming to the successors ofSaint Peter and Vicars of Christ? Little indeed in the days of their residency did the Popes add toNotre-Dame-des-Doms. A fragile, slender marvel of Gothic architecture, the tomb of John XXII, was placed in the nave before the altar; and amonument to Benedict XII was raised in the church. But their Holinessesincited others in Avignon to good works so successfully that Rabelaislaughingly called it the "Ringing city" of churches, convents, andmonasteries. The bells of Saint-Pierre, Saint-Symphorien, Saint-Agricol, Sainte-Claire, and Saint-Didier chimed with those of chapels andreligious foundations; the Grey Penitents, Black Penitents, and WhitePenitents, priests, and nuns walked the streets, and Avignon grew trulypapal. Clement V and his successors proceeded to the safeguarding oftheir temporal welfare in truly noble fashion; and scarcely fifty yearslater they had become so well pleased with their new residence that themagnificent Clement VI refused to leave in spite of the supplications ofPetrarch and Rienzi and a whole deputation of Romans. During the reign of this Pontiff, the Papal Court became one of thegayest in Christendom. Clement was frankly, joyously voluptuous; and hislife seems one moving pageant in which luxurious banquets, beautifulwomen, and ecclesiastical pomps succeeded each other. The lovelyCountess of Turenne sold his preferments and benefices, the immensetreasure of John XXII was his, and he showered such benefits on agrateful family that of the five Cardinals who accompanied his corpsefrom Avignon, one was his brother, one his cousin, and three hisnephews; and that the Huguenots who violated his tomb at La-Chaise-Dieu, should have used his skull as a wine-cup, seems an horrible, but not anunfitting mockery. It was in vain that Petrarch hotly wrote, "the Popekeeps the Church of Jesus Christ in shameful exile. " The desire forreturn to Rome had passed. Avignon was not an original nor a plenary possession of the HolyFathers, but "the fairest inheritance of the Bérengers, " and it was fromthat family that half of the city had to be wrested--or obtained. Nowthe lords of Provence were Kings of Naples and Sicily, and thereforevassals of the Holy See. For when the Normans took these Southern statesfrom the Greeks and thereby incurred the jealousy of all Italy, they hadwarily placed themselves under the protection of the Pope and agreed tohold their new possessions as a papal investiture. It happened at thistime that the vassal of the Pope in Naples and in Sicily was thebeauteous "Reino Joanno, " the heiress of Provence. What she was nowriter could describe in better words than these, "with extreme beauty, with youth that does not fade, red hair that holds the sunlight in itstangles, a sweet voice, poetic gifts, regal peremptoriness, a Gallicwit, genuine magnanimity, and rhapsodical piety, with strange indecorumand bluntness of feeling under the extremes of splendour and misery, just such a lovely, perverse, bewildering woman was she, greatgranddaughter of Raymond-Bérenger, fourth Count of Provence, --the pupilof Boccaccio, the friend of Petrarch, the enemy of Saint Catherine ofSiena, the most dangerous and most dazzling woman of the XIV century. Sotypically Provençal was this Queen's nature, that had she lived somecenturies later, she might have been Mirabeau's sister. The same'terrible gift of familiarity, ' the same talent of finding favour andswaying popular assemblages, the same sensuousness, bold courage, andgreat generosity were found in this early orphaned, thrice widowedheiress of Provence. To this day, the memory of the Reino Joanno livesin her native land, associated with numbers of towers and fortresses, the style of whose architecture attests their origin under her reign. Itsays much for her personal fascinations that far from being eithercursed or blamed she is still remembered and praised. The ruins ofGremaud, Tour Drainmont, of Guillaumes, and a castle near Roccaspervera, all bear her name: at Draguignan and Flagose, they tell you her canalhas supplied the town with water for generations: in the Esterels, thepeasants who got free grants of land, still invoke their benefactress. At Saint-Vallier, she is blessed because she protected the hamlet nearthe Siagne from the oppression of the Chapters of Grasse and Lérins. AtAix and Avignon her fame is undying because she dispelled somerobber-bands; at Marseilles she is popular because she modified andsettled the jurisdiction of Viscounts and Bishops. Go up to Grasse andin the big square where the trees throw a flickering shadow over thestreet-traders, you will see built in a vaulted passage a flight ofstone steps, steps which every barefoot child will tell you belong tothe palace of 'La Reino Joanno. ' Walls have been altered, gates havedisappeared, but down those time-worn steps once paced the liege lady ofProvence, the incomparable 'fair mischief' whose guilt . .. Must everremain one of the enigmas of history. " This "enigma" has strangeanalogies to one which has puzzled and impassioned the writers of manygenerations, the mystery of that other "fair mischief" of a latercentury, Mary Queen of Scots. Like Mary, Jeanne was accused of themurder of her young husband, and being pressed by the vengeance of hisbrother--no less a person than the King of Hungary, --she decided toretreat to her native Provence and appeal to the Pope, her gallant andnot over-scrupulous suzerain. "Jeanne landed at Ponchettes, " continuesthe writer who has so happily described her, "and the consuls came toassure her of their devotion. 'I come, ' replied the heiress, whose witalways suggested a happy phrase, 'to ask for your hearts and nothing butyour hearts. ' As she did not allude to her debts, the populace threw uptheir caps; the Prince de Monaco, just cured of his wound at Crécy, placed his sword at her service; and the Baron de Bénil, red-handed froma cruel murder, besought her patronage which, perhaps from afellow-feeling, she promised with great alacrity. At Grasse she won allhearts and made many more promises, and finally, arriving at Avignon, she found Clement covetous of the city and well-disposed to her. Yetmorality obliged him to ask an explanation of her recent change ofhusbands, and before three Cardinals, whom he appointed to be herjudges, the Queen pleaded her own cause. Not a blush tinged her cheek, no tremor altered her melodious voice as she stood before the red-robedPrinces of the Church and narrated, in fluent Latin, the story of theassassination of Andrew, the death of her child, and her marriage withthe murderer, Louis of Tarento, who stood by her side. The wily Popenoted behind her the proud Provençal nobles, the Villeneuves andd'Agoults, the de Baux and the Lescaris, who brought the fealty of thehill-country, and who did not know that, having already sold her jewelsto the Jews, their fair Queen was covenanting with the Pope for Avignon. The formal trial ended, the Pontiff solemnly declared the Queen to beguiltless, --and she granted him the city for eighty thousand pieces ofgold. " [Illustration: "THE GREAT PALACE. "--AVIGNON. ] Clement enjoyed ownership in the same agreeable manner as hispredecessors, "without the untying of purse-strings. " Perhaps he usedthe purse's contents for the more pressing claim of the great Palace ofwhich he built so large a part; perhaps he handed it, still filled, toInnocent VI who built the famous fortifications of Avignon and protectedhimself against the marauding "White Companies, " perhaps it was stilluntouched when Bertrand du Guesclin and his Grand Company stood beforethe gate and demanded "benediction, absolution, and two hundred thousandpounds. " "What!" the Pope is said to have cried, "must we giveabsolution, which here in Avignon is paid for, and then give moneytoo--it is contrary to reason!" Du Guesclin replied to the bearer ofthese words, "Here are many who care little for absolution, and much formoney, "--and Urban yielded. Gregory XI, the last of the "French Popes, " returned to Rome, and at hisdeath the "Great Schism" followed;--Clement VII, in Avignon, wasrecognised by France, Spain, Scotland, Sicily, and Cyprus; Urban VI, inRome, by Italy, Austria, and England. The County Venaissin was ravagedby wars and the pests that come in their train. At length theAvignonnais, who had not enjoyed greater peace under their anointedrulers than under worldling Counts, rose against Pierre de Luna, the"Anti-pope" Benedict XIII, who fled. From that time no Pontiff enteredthe gates, and the city was administered by papal legates. In laterdays, in spite of the sacred character of its rulers and his ownundoubted orthodoxy, Louis XIV seized Avignon several times; and LouisXV, in unfilial vengeance for the excommunication of the Duke of Parma, took possession of the city. But it was not until after the beginningof the French Revolution, in 1791, that the Avignonnais themselvesarose, chased the Vice-Legate of the Pope from the city, and appealedfor union with France; and it was at this period that the Chapel ofSainte-Marthe, the Cloister, and the Chapter House were swept away. Thusended the temporal power of the Papacy in France, planned for worldlyprofit and carried out with many sordid compromises;--a residencyunnoted for great deeds or noble intentions and whose close marked the"Great Schism. " To-day papal Avignon is become French Avignon, a pleasant city where theProvençal sun is hot and where the Mistral whistles merrily. Above thebanks of the Rhone the simple Cathedral stands, with its priests stillgarbed in papal red, its Host still carried under the white papalpanoply. Here also is the great Palace of the Popes, "which is indeed, "says Froissart, "the strongest and most magnificent house in the world. "And yet its grim walls suggest neither peace nor rest; and to him whorecalls, this great, impressive pile tells neither of glories nor oftriumphs. Bands of unbelieving Pastoureaux marched toward it; soldiersof the "White Companies" and soldiers of du Guesclin gazed mockingly atit; it was the prison of Rienzi, and the home of the harassed Popes whohad ever before them, just across the river, the menacing tower of that"fair king" who had led them into "Babylonish captivity. " [Sidenote: Vaison. ] On the banks of a pleasant little river among the Provençal hills isVaison, one of the ancient Gallic towns which became entirely romanised;and many illustrious families of the Empire had summer villas there asat Arles and Orange. Barbarians of one epoch or another have devastatedVaison of all her antique treasures, except the remains of anAmphitheatre on the Puymin Hill. Germanic tribes who swooped down inearly centuries destroyed her villas and her greater buildings; andvandals of a later day have scattered her sculptures and her tabletshere and there. Some are in the galleries of Avignon; a Belus, the onlyone found in France, was sent to the Museum of Saint-Germain; and in themultitude of treasures in the British Museum, the most beautiful of allher statues, a Diadumenus, is artistically lost. In the days when itstill adorned the city, during the reign of the Emperor Gallienus, Vaison was christianised by Saint Ruf, her Bishopric was founded, and in337 the first General Council of the Church held in Gaul assembled here. Another Council in the V century, and still another in the VI, are proofof her continued importance. [Illustration: "ON THE BANKS OF A PLEASANT LITTLE RIVER IS VAISON. "] [Illustration: "THE RUINED CASTLE OF THE COUNTS OF TOULOUSE. "--VAISON. ] Among the first of Gallo-Roman cities, she was also among the first tosuffer. Chrocus and his horde who sacked Orange, seized her Bishop andmurdered him; and Alains, Vandals, and Burgundians, following in theirwake, brought disaster after disaster to the cities lying near theRhone. Vaison, by miracle, did not lose her prestige. In the X and XIcenturies she built her fine Cathedral with its Cloisters, and in 1179she was still great enough to excite the covetousness of Raymond VI, Count of Toulouse. This magnificent and ambitious prince built a castleon a height above the city, and as he had before terrorised my LordBishop of Carpentras, so now he seized the anointed person of Bérengerde Reilhane, who was not only Vaison's Bishop, but her temporal princeas well. Bérenger was a sufficiently powerful personage to make anoutcry which re-echoed throughout Christendom; the Pope and the Emperorcame to his aid; and in the Abbey Church of Saint-Gilles-du-Gard, Raymond VI did solemn penance, and, before receiving absolution, waspublicly struck by the Papal Legate with a bundle of birch rods. Abovethe Bishop's Palace the great castle still loomed in menace, but on thatday Bérenger de Reilhane triumphed and Vaison was at peace. It was a peace which presaged her quiet, uneventful downfall. For otherinterests were growing stronger in the country, other cities grew whereshe stood still, and in the XIV century, when Avignon became the seat ofpapal power, Vaison had passed from the world's history. Her Bishopricendured till 1801, but her doings are worthy only of provincialchronicles and to-day she is but a little country town, served by thestage-coach. She still lies on both banks of the river; the "high city, "with long rows of deserted houses, climbs the side of the steep hill andis dominated by the ruins of the great castle, which Richelieudestroyed. The "lower city, " which is the busier of the two, lies on theopposite bank; and on its outskirts, in a little garden-close, almostsurrounded by the fields, is the Cathedral, --solitary, lonely, and old. [Illustration: "THE WHOLE APSE-END. "--VAISON. ] [Illustration: "THE SOUTH WALL WHICH IS CLEARLY SEEN FROM THEROAD. "--VAISON. ] The decoration of the exterior is slight, a dentiled cornice and agraceful foliated frieze extend along the top of the side-walls, whichalthough most plainly built, are far from being severely angular orgaunt and have a quaint and pleasing harmony of line. The west front isso featureless that it scarcely deserves the title of façade. The southwall, which is clearly seen from the road, has a small portal and plainbuttresses that slope at the top. The central apse is rectangular andheavy, the little southern apse is short and round, and that of thenorth is tall and thin as a pepper-box. Behind them rise the pointedroof of the nave and the heavy tower. The whole apse-end is constructedin most picturesque irregularity, and the new red of the roof-tiles andsombre grey of the old stone add greatly to its charm. Unlike many churches of its period Notre-Dame of Vaison is three-aisled. Slender, narrow naves, whose tunnel vaults are not extremely lofty, endin small circular apses. The nave is a short one of three irregularbays, and over the last, which precedes the choir, is the littleeight-sided dome, which instead of projecting above the roof iscuriously placed a little lower than the tunnel vaulting of the otherbays. The High Altar, which originally belonged to an older church, iswell placed in the simple choir; for it belongs in style, if not inactual fact, to the first centuries of the Faith; and in thesemi-darkness behind the altar, the old episcopal throne still standsagainst the apse's wall, in memory of the custom of the Church's earlydays. The low arches of the aisles, the dim lighting of the church, itssimple ornaments of classic bands and little capitals, its slightirregularities of form and carvings, make an interior of fine and strongantique simplicity. A little door in the north wall leads to the Cloisters, which arehappily in a state of complete restoration, and not as a modern writerhas described them, "practically a ruin. " The wall which overlooks themhas an inscription that adjures the Canons to "bear with patience thenorth aspect of their cells. " The short walks have tunnel vaults withcross-vaults in the corners and in parts of the north aisle. Great piersand small, firm columns support the outer arches; and on the exterior ofthe Cloister the little arches of the columns are enclosed in a largeround arch. Many of the capitals are uncarved, some of the piers haveapplied columns, but many are ornamented in straight cut lines. On oneside, two bays open to the ground, forming an entrance-way into thepretty close, where the bushy tops of a few tall trees cast flickeringshadows on the surrounding walls and the little grassy square. [Illustration: "TWO BAYS OPEN TO THE GROUND. "--VAISON. ] [Illustration: "THE GREAT PIERS AND SMALL FIRM COLUMNS. "--VAISON. ] The Cloister is small and simple in its rather heavy grace. Noise andunrest seem far from it, and underneath its solid rounded vault is peaceand shelter from the world. And in its firm solidity of architecturethere is the spirit of a perfect quiet, a tranquil charm which mustinsensibly have calmed many a restless spirit that chafed beneath thechurchly frock, and fled within its walls for refuge and for helpfulmeditation. Few Provençal Cathedrals have the interest of Vaison and its Cloister. Lying in the forgotten valley of the Ouvèze, in an old-fashioned town, all its surroundings speak of the past and its atmosphere is quiteunspoiled. The church itself has been spared degenerating restorations;and although it has no sumptuousness as at Marseilles, no grandeur as atArles, no stirring history as the churches that lay near the sea, although it is one of the smallest and most venerable of them all, noCathedral of the Southland has so great an architectural dignity andmerit with so ancient and so quaint a charm. [Sidenote: Arles. ] In the midst of the wealth of antique ruins, near the Theatre, theColiseum, and the Forum of this "little Rome of the Gauls, " stands anoble monument of the ruder ages of Christianity, the Cathedral, Saint-Trophime. Here Saint Augustine, apostle to England, wasconsecrated; here three General Councils of the Church were held, herethe Donatists were doomed to everlasting fire, and here the EmperorConstantine, from his summer palace on the Rhone, must have come to"assist" at Mass. The building in which these solemn scenes of the earlyChurch were enacted soon disappeared and was replaced by the present onewhose older walls Révoil attributes to the IX century. The presentCathedral's first documentary date is 1152, in the era of the Republicof Arles. The name of Saint-Etienne was changed, and the body ofSaint-Trophime, carried in state from the ruined Church of theAliscamps, was buried under a new altar and he was solemnly proclaimedthe Patron of the richest and most majestic church in all Provence. [Illustration: "IN THE MIDST OF THE WEALTH OF ANTIQUE RUINS. "--ARLES. ] [Illustration: THE FAÇADE OF SAINT-TROPHIME. --ARLES. ] Nearly eight hundred years later a traveller stood before the portal ofthis church. In the midst of his delighted study he suddenly felt theattraction of a pair of watchful eyes, and turned to find a peasantwoman gazing fixedly at him. In her strange fascination she had placedbeside her, on the ground, two huge melons and a mammoth cabbage, andher wizened hands were folded before her, Sunday-fashion. She was alittle witch of a woman, old and bent and brown. "Yes, my good gentleman, " she said, "I have been looking at you, --fivewhole minutes of the clock, and much good it has done me. In these daysof books and such fine learning there is not enough time spent beforeour door; and I who pass by it every day, year in, year out, I havewatched well, and only two except yourself have ever studied it. Theforeigners come with red books and look at them more than at the dooritself, --they stay perhaps three minutes, and go off, shaking their wiseheads. Our people, passing every day, see but a door, a place for goingin and coming out. " She paused for breath. "And what do you see?" asked the traveller. "You ask me?" She smiled wisely. "But you know, since you are standinghere and looking too. Listen!" And her old eyes began to gleam. "I'lltell you of a time before you were born. I was a child then; and wemarched here every Sunday, other little girls and myself, and we stoodbefore this door. And the nuns--it was often Sister Mary Dolorosa--toldus the stories of these stones. See! Here is Our Lord Who loves allmankind, but has to judge us too;--and there is Saint-Trophime. But Icannot read, Monsieur. An old peasant woman has no time for such finethings, and you will laugh at me for telling you what you have in yourbooks, --but I have them all here, here in my heart, and many a time Itoo come to refresh my old memory, and to pray. Those pictures tellgreat lessons to those that have eyes to see them. Well, well-a-day, Imust pick up my melons and begone, for I have taken up your time andsaid too much. But you will excuse it in an old woman who is good forlittle else than talking now. " They parted in true French fashion, with "expressions of mutual esteem, "and the traveller turned to the portal which was still fulfilling itsancient mission of teaching and of making beautiful the House of God. Applied to a severe façade typical of the plainness of Provençal outerwalls, this is one of the noblest works of Mediævalism, the richest andmost beautiful portal of the South of France; and no others in the Midi, except those of Saint-Gilles-du-Gard and Moissac, are worthy ofcomparison with it. In boldness and intellectuality of conception itexcels many of the northern works and equals the finest of them. For thebuilder of the northern portal seems to have held closely to onearchitectural form, the beautiful convention of the Gothic style; andwithin that door he placed, in a more or less usual way, the subjectswhich the Church had sanctioned. In nearly every case the treatment ofthe subject is subordinated to the general architectural plan andsymmetry. At Saint-Trophime there was the limit of space, the axiom thata door must be a door, and doubtless many allowable subjects. But withinthese necessary bounds the unknown sculptor recognised fewconventionalities. The usual place for the portrayal of the LastJudgment, the tympanum, was too small for his conception of the scene;the pier that divides his door-way was not built to support the statueof the church's patron saint; he had a multitude of fancies, and insteadof curbing them in some beautiful conventionality of form, as one feelsgreat northern builders often did, this artist made a frame within whichhis ideas found free play, and, forcing conventionality to its will, hisgenius justified itself. For not only is the portal as a whole, full ofdignity and true symmetry, but its details are thoughtfully worked out. They show, with the old scholastic form of his Faith, the grasp of theunknown master's mind, the intellectuality of his symbolism, and fewportals grow in fascination as this one, few have so interesting anoriginality. [Illustration: RIGHT DETAIL, PORTAL. --ARLES. ] In design it is simple, in execution incomparably rich. The principaltheme of the Last Judgment has Christ seated on a throne as the centralfigure, and about him are the symbols of the four Evangelists. This isthe treatment of the tympanum. Underneath, Patriarchs, Saints, Just, andCondemned form the beautiful frieze. The Apostles are seated; and totheir left is an angel guarding the gates of Paradise against twoBishops and a crowd of laymen who have yet to fully expiate their sinsin Purgatory. Behind them, naked, with their feet in the flames, arethose condemned to everlasting Hell; and still beyond is a lower depthwhere souls are already half-consumed in hideous fires. On the Apostles'extreme right is the beginning of our human history, the Temptation ofAdam and Eve; and marching toward the holy men, on this same side, isthe long procession of those Redeemed from Adam's fall, clothed inrighteousness. An angel goes before them, and hands a small child--aransomed soul--to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The end panels treat thelast phases of the dominant theme;--a mammoth angel in the one weighsthe souls of the dead; and an equally awe-inspiring devil in the otheris preparing to cast two of the Lost into a sea of fire. The remainder of the portal tells of many subjects, and represents muchof the theological symbolism of its time. Light, graceful columns, withdelicately foliated capitals and bases rich with meaning sculptures, divide the lower spaces into niches, and in these niches stand statuesof Apostles and of Saints, each having his story, each his peculiarattributes; and about these chief figures are carved rich designs, strange animals, and numberless short stories of the Bible. Above thereis a small, subsidiary frieze; below, the pedestals which tell the taleof those who stand upon them. The figures have life and meaning, if nota true plasticity; and in this portal there is instruction, variety, andmajesty, wealth of allegory and subtle symbols for those who lovereligious mysteries, and splendour of sculpture for those who come insearch of Art. There are those to whom a simple beauty does not appeal. After therichness of the portal's carving, the interior of Saint-Trophime is tothem "far too plain;" in futile comparison with the Cloister's grace, itis found "too severe;" and one author has written that only "when therefulgence of a Mediterranean sun glances through a series of longlances, . .. Then and then only does the Cathedral of Saint-Trophimeoffer any inducement to linger within its non-impressive walls. " It may not be denied that, together with nearly all the Cathedrals ofProvence, this interior has suffered from the addition of inharmoniousstyles. The most serious of these is its Gothic choir of the XV century, which a certain Cardinal Louis Allemand applied to the narrowerRomanesque naves. With irregular ambulatory, chapels of various sizes, and a general incongruity of plan, this construction has noarchitectural importance except that of a prominent place in thechurch's worship. The remaining excrescences, Gothic chapels, Ionicpilasters, elliptical tribune, and the like, are happily hidden alongthe side aisles or in the transepts; and during the restoration ofRévoil the naves were relieved of the disfiguring "improvements" of theXVII century, and stand to-day in much of their fine old simplicity. Beyond the fifth bay, and rising in the tower, is the dome of dignifiedProvençal form that rests on the lower arches of the crossing. Smallclerestory windows cast sheets of pale light on the plain piers, rectangular and heavy, that rise to support a tunnel vault and dividethe church into three naves of great and slender height. The stern, ascetic style of the XI and XII centuries has given the navepiers mere small, plain bands as capitals, and for churchly decorationhas allowed only a moulding of acanthus leaves placed high and unnoticedat the vaulting's base. There is no pleasing detail and no charmingfancy; but a fine, exquisite loftiness, a faultless balance ofproportion, are in this severe interior, and its solemn and majesticbeauty is not surpassed in the Southern Romanesque. [Illustration: LEFT DETAIL, PORTAL. --ARLES. ] Beyond the south transept, a short passage and a few steps lead to theCloisters, the most famous of Provence, perhaps of France. Large, graceful, and magnificent in wealth of carving, they have yet none ofthe poetic charms that linger around many a smaller Cloister. Thevaultings are not more beautiful than other vaults less known; althoughthey have the help of the great piers, the little, slender columns seemtoo light to support so much expanse of roof, and even the church'stower, square and high, looks dwarfed when seen across the close. Thevery spaciousness is solitary, and the long vista of the walks conducesto vague wonderings rather than to peaceful hours of thought. It has notthe dreamy solitude of Vaison, nor the bright beauty of Elne's littleclose, nor any of the sunny cheerfulness that brightens the decayingwalls of Cahors. [Illustration: THROUGH THE CLOISTER-ARCHES. --ARLES. ] The marvel of these Cloisters is the sculptured decorations of theirpiers and columns. Those of the XII century are the richest, but each ofthe later builders seems to have vied as best he might, in wealth ofconception and in lavishness of detail, with those who went before, and, even in enforced re-building, the addition of the Gothic to theRomanesque has not destroyed the harmony of the effect. In all thesculptors' schemes, the outer of the double columns were given foliatedpatterns or a few, simple symbols, and the outer of the piers werechannelled and conventionally cut; and although the fancy of thesculptor is marvellously subtle and full of grace, his greatest art wasreserved for the capitals of the inner columns and the inner faces ofthe piers, which meditating priests would see and study. The symbolismauthorised by Holy Church, the history of precursors of Our Lord, theincidents of His life and the more dramatic doings of the Saints, allthese are carved with greatest love of detail and of art; and in themthe least arduous priest could find themes for a whole year ofmeditation, the least enthusiastic of travellers, a thousand quaint andinteresting fancies and imaginations. It is not so much the beauty ofthe whole effect that is entrancing in these Cloisters, nor that mostsubtle influence, the good or evil spirit of a past which lingers roundso many ancient spots, as that mediæval thought and mediæval genius thatfound expression in these myriad fine examples of the sculptor's art. [Illustration: "A NAVE OF GREAT AND SLENDER HEIGHT. "--ARLES. ] [Illustration: "THE BEAUTY OF THE WHOLE. "--ARLES. ] Alexandre Dumas has written of Arles: "Roman monuments form the soil;and about them, at their feet, in their shadow, in their crevasses, asecond Gothic city has sprung--one knows not how--by the vegetativeforce of the religious civilisation of Saint Louis. Arles is theMecca of archæologists. " It is also the Mecca of those who love tostudy people and customs, for, in spite of the railroad, and theconsequent influx of "foreign French, " it has preserved the oldgræco-roman-saracenic type which has made its beautiful women sojustly famous, and, underneath its Provençal gaieties, their classicorigins may easily be traced. One should see the Roman Theatre, thesolitary Aliscamps, by moonlight, the busy market in the early day, the Cathedral at a Mass, and a fête at any time, --for "When the fête-days come, farewell the swath and labour, And welcome revels underneath the trees, And orgies in the vaulted hostelries, Bull-baitings, never-ending dances, and sweet pleasures. " [Sidenote: Entrevaux. ] The most celebrated fortified town in France is the Cité of Carcassonne, yet, even in the days of its practical strength, it was scarcely a type. It was rather a marvel, a wonder, --the "fairest Maid of Languedoc, " "theInvincible. " And now the citadel is almost deserted. The inhabitants areso few that weeds grow in their streets, and one who walks there in thestill mid-day feels that all this completion of architecture, thesewalls, perfect in every stone, may be an enchanted vision, a mirage; hemore than half believes that the cool of the sunset will dispel theillusion, and he will find himself on a pleasant little hill ofLanguedoc, looking down upon the commonplace "Lower City" ofCarcassonne. At Entrevaux there is no suggestion of illusion. This is not ashow-place that once was real; it is one of a hundred littleagglomerations of the French Middle Ages. They had no great name touphold; no riches to expend in impregnable walls and towers. They clungfearfully together for self-preservation, built ramparts that were asstrong as might be, and dared not laugh at the "fortunes of war. " Exceptthat there is safety outside the walls, and a tiny post and telegraphoffice within, they are now as they were in those dangerous days. Thefortress of Carcassonne is dead; but in the back country of Provence, Entrevaux is living, and scarcely a jot or tittle of its Mediævalism islost. Among high rocks that close around it on every side, where, according to the season, the Chalvagne trickles or plunges into theriver Var, and dominated by a fort that perches on a sharp peak, is thestrangest of old Provençal towns. [Illustration: THE GOTHIC WALK, CLOISTER. --ARLES. ] The founding of the tiny episcopal city was after this wise. Toward theclose of the XIV century, in a time of plagues, Jewish persecutions, thegrowth of heresies, and the uncurbed ravages of free-booters, the cityof Glandèves, seat of an ancient Bishopric, was destroyed. The livingremnant abandoned its desolate ruins. Searching for a stronger, saferhome, they chose a site on the left bank of the Var, and commenced thebuilding of Entrevaux. The Bishop accompanied his flock, and although heretained the old title of Glandèves, in memory of the antiquity of theSee and its lost city, the Cathedral-church was established atEntrevaux. The first edifice, Saint-Martin's, built shortly after the founding ofthe town, has long been destroyed; and the second, begun in 1610, to thehonour of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, held episcopal rankuntil the See was disestablished by the great Concordat. Although thisCathedral was built in the XVII century, a date perilously near that ofdecadence in French ecclesiastical architecture, it was situated in soobscure a corner of Provence that its plan was unaffected by innovatingideas; it is of the old native type, a building of stout walls and heavybuttresses, a single tower, square and straight, and a tunnel-vaultedroom, the place of congregation. This interior, with no beautifuldetails that may not be found in other churches, has as many of thedefects of the Italian school as the treasury could afford, --marblecolumns, frescoes, gilding, and other rococo decorations which show thatthe people of Entrevaux had no higher and no better tastes than those ofNice; and that the old, simple purity of the church's form was rather amatter of ignorance or necessity than of choice. The attraction of theepiscopal church pales before the quaint delight of the episcopal city, and it is as part of the general civic defence that it shares in theinterest of Entrevaux. [Illustration: "THIS INTERIOR. "--ENTREVAUX. ] [Illustration: THE ROMANESQUE WALK, CLOISTER. --ARLES. ] [Illustration: "ONE OF THREE SMALL DRAWBRIDGES. "--ENTREVAUX. ] [Illustration: "THE PORTCULLIS. "--ENTREVAUX. ] Leaving the train at the nearest railroad station, the travellerfollowed the winding Var, and he had scarcely walked four miles when hesaw, across the river, the sharp peak with its fort, and the long linesof walls that zigzag down the hillside till they reach the crowded roofsthat are clustered closely, in charming irregularity, near the bank. Along the water's edge, the only part of the town that is not protectedby rocks and hills, there is another line of stout walls and two heavy, jutting bastions. From a mediæval point of view Entrevaux looks strongindeed. The only means of entrance, now as in those olden days, is byone of three small drawbridges, and so narrow is every street of thetown that no wagon is allowed to cross, for if it made the passage ofthe bridge it would be caught hard and fast between the houses. As thetraveller put foot on the drawbridge he felt as though he were a pettytrader or wandering minstrel, or some other figure of the Middle Ages, entering for a few hours' traffic or a noon-day's rest, and when hepaused under the low arch of the portcullis-gate, people stared at himas they do at a stranger in little far-off towns. Once inside, he turnedinto a street, and was immediately obliged to step into a door-way, fora man leading a horse was approaching, and they needed all its breadth. Houses, several stories high, bordered these incredibly dark, narrowways, and some of the upper windows had the diminutive balconies so dearto the South. It was a bright, hot day, but the sun seldom peeped intothese streets; and in the shops the light was dull at mid-day. As hethought of the men and women of Mediævalism, who did not dare to wanderin the fields beyond the town, because their safety lay within itsramparts, suddenly, the little public squares of walled towns appearedin all the real significance of their light and breadth and sunshine. Space is precious in Entrevaux, and open places are few. There is onewhere the hotels and cafés are found, another across the drawbridgebehind the Cathedral-tower, and a tiny one before the church itself. This is the most curious of them all; for, far from being a "Place de laCathédrale, " it is a true "Place d'Armes. " Near the portals, on whosewooden doors the mitre and insignia of papal favour are carved, a fewsteps lead to a narrow ledge where archers could stand and shoot fromthe loop-holes in the walls. As the traveller sat on this ledge andwondered what scenes had been enacted here, how many deadly shots hadsped from out the holes, what crowds of excited townsfolk had gatheredin the church, what grave words of exhortation and of blessing had beenspoken from the altar or the threshold by anxious prelate, robed andmitred for the Mass of Supplication to a God of Battles, an humblefuneral appeared, --a priest, a peasant bearing a black wooden Cross withthe name of the deceased painted on it, a rope-bound coffin carried byhot and sorrowing women, and a little procession of friends. The pompsand vanities of the past disappeared as a mist from the traveller'smind, and he saw Entrevaux as it really is, without the comforts of thisworld's goods, without the greatness of a Bishopric, a small Provençalvillage whose perfection of quaintness--so charming to him who passeson--means hardship and discomfort to those who have been born and mustlive and die there. [Illustration: "A FORT THAT PERCHES ON A SHARP PEAK. "--ENTREVAUX. ] [Illustration: "A TRUE PLACE D'ARMES. "--ENTREVAUX. ] And yet so potent is that charm, when the traveller re-crossed thedrawbridge and looked up at the sharp teeth of the portcullis that maystill fall and bite, when he had passed out on the high-road and turnedagain and again to watch the fading sunlight on the tangled mass ofroofs, the illusion had returned. The bastions stood out in bold relief, the church tower with its crenellated top stood out against the rockypeaks, the sun fell suddenly behind the hill, and the traveller felthimself again a minstrel wandering in a mediæval night. [Illustration: "THE LONG LINES OF WALLS THAT ZIGZAG DOWN THEHILLSIDE. "--ENTREVAUX. ] [Sidenote: Sisteron. ] The traveller is curious, --frankly curious. Almost every time that heenters a Cathedral, his memory recalls the words of Renan, "thesesplendid marvels are almost always the blossoming of some littledeceit, " and after he has feasted his eye, he thinks of history and ofdetails, and of Renan, prejudiced but well-informed, and wonders whatwas here the "little deceit. " At Grasse, he had longed for the papers acertain lawyer has, which tell much of the city's life a hundred andfifty years ago, and at Sisteron, he sat by the Durance, wondering howhe could induce a kind and good old lady of a remote corner of Provenceto lend him an ancient manuscript, which even the gentle Curé said she"obstinately" refused to "impart. " Blessed are they who can be satisfiedwith guide-books, as his friends who had visited Avignon and Arles, Tarascon and the Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, and had seen Provence totheir entire edification while he was merely peering aboutNotre-Dame-des-Doms and the Fort Saint-André. Of a more indolent andleisurely turn of mind, he suffers--and perhaps justly--the penalty ofhis joyous idleness, for even lawyers and good ladies with hidden papersare rare. Revolutionary sieges, fires, and a wise discretion have led tothe destroying of many a fine old page, and it is often in vain one goesto these decaying cities of Provence. "We see, " he said, gesticulatingdejectedly, "we see their towers and their walls, but if we say we knowthat place, how many times do we deceive ourselves. It is too often asthough we claimed to know the life and thought and passions of a manfrom looking on his grave. " But--to consider what we may know. Sisteron is an old Roman city, moststrongly and picturesquely built in a narrow defile of the Durance. Onone side the river is the high, bare rock of La Baume; on the other, ahigher rock where houses, supporting each other by outstretchedbuttresses, seem to cling to the sheer hillside as shrubs in mountaincrevasses, and are dominated and protected by a large and formidablefortress-castle that crowns the very top of the peak. The town walls arealmost gone; the fortress is abandoned; since the Revolution there areno longer Bishops in Sisteron; but the old town has lost little of itswar-like and romantic atmosphere of days when it commanded an importantpass, and when the way across the Durance was guarded by a drawbridge, and a big portcullis that now stands in rusty idleness. [Illustration: "THE CHURCH TOWER STOOD OUT AGAINST THE ROCKYPEAKS. "--ENTREVAUX. ] It is claimed that the Bishopric of this stronghold was founded in theIV century, and grew and flourished mightily, until the Bishop dweltsecurely on his rock, his Brother of Gap had a "box" on the oppositebank, the Convent of the little Dominican Sisters was further up theriver, and, besides this busy ecclesiastical life, there was the worldof burghers in the town and its Convent of Ursulines. Here came onceupon a time a sprightly lady who added a thousand lively interests. Thiswas Louise de Cabris, sister of the great Mirabeau, "who, when a meregirl, had been married to the Marquis de Cabris. Part knave, part fool, the vices of de Cabris sometimes ended in attacks of insanity. Hismarriage with one who united the violence of the Mirabeaus to thelicense of the Vassans was unfortunate; . .. And after Louise began toreign in the big dark house of the Cours of Grasse, life never lackedfor incidents. " Matters were not mended by the arrival of her brother, twenty-four and wild, and supposed to be living under a "lettre decachet" in the sleepy little town of Manosque. The two were soonembroiled in so outrageous a scandal that their father, who loved aquarrel for its own sake, sided with the prosecution; and declaring that"no children like his had ever been seen under the sun, " took out a"lettre de cachet" for Louise, who was sent up to Sisteron, where herequested her to "repent of her sins at leisure in the Convent of theUrsulines. " Inheriting a brilliant, restless wit and unbridled morals, her life with the stupid, vicious Marquis had not improved her naturaldisposition, and she soon set Sisteron agog. On pretence of business allthe lawyers flocked to see her; and with no pretence at all the garrisonflocked in their train. When the Ursulines ventured to remonstrate, shediverted them with such anecdotes of gay adventure as were never foundbetween the pages of their prayer-books. Finally the whole town wasdivided into two camps; her foes called her "a viper, " and many an eyepeered into the dark streets, many a head was judiciously hidden behindbowed shutters, to see who went toward the Convent; till by wit andscheming and after some months of most surprising incident, Louisecarried her point, left the good Ursulines to a well-merited repose, and returned to the Castle of Mirabeau, --to laugh at the townsfolk ofSisteron. [Illustration: "THE CATHEDRAL IS NEAR THE HEAVY, ROUND TOWERS OF THEOUTER RAMPARTS. "--SISTERON. ] [Illustration: "THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE DURANCE. "--SISTERON. ] When in the city, the prelates occupied their Castle of the Citadel withthe high lookouts and defences, far from their Cathedral, which is inthe lower town near the heavy, round towers of the ramparts. Thischurch, which has been very slightly and very judiciously restored, isof unknown date, probably of the XII century, it is faithful to thenative architectural tradition, and in some details more interestingthan many of the Provençal Cathedrals. Its exterior is small and low. There are the familiar, friendly little apses of the Romanesque; nearthem, above the east end of the north aisle, the squat tower with amodest, modern spire; and at its side, above the roof-line, is theoctagon that stands over the dome. All this structure is unaffectedlysimple. The walls and buttresses which enclose the aisles are plain, andit is only by comparison with this architectural Puritanism that thefaçade may be considered ornate. Near the top of its wall, which issupported by sturdy piers, are three round windows, with deep, splayedframes. The largest of them is directly above the high, slender portalthat is somewhat reminiscent of the Italian influence, so elaboratelymarked further up the valley, at Embrun. The rounded arch of thedoor-way and its pointed gable are repeated, on either side, in ahalf-arch and half-gable. An allegorical animal, in relief, stands abovethe central arch, and a few columns with delicate capitals complete theadornment of the entrance-way, which, in spite of being the mostdecorative part of the church, is most discreet. Nine steps lead down into an interior that is small, very usuallyplanned, and much defaced by XVII century gilt--yet is essentiallydignified and impressive. Eliminate the tawdry altars, take away thestucco Saints and painted Virgins, let the chapels be mere shadowycorners in the dark perspective, and the little church appears like themeeting-place of the Faithful of an early Christianity. Its nave andeach of the narrow side aisles rise to round tunnel-vaults; there arebut five bays, and the last is covered by a small, octagonal dome. Thewhole church is built of a dark stone that is almost black, its lightingis very dim, and centres in the little apses where the holiest statuesstand and the most sacred rites are celebrated; and the worshippers, shrouded in twilight, have more of the atmosphere of mystery than isusual in the Cathedrals of Provence, the subtle influence of quietshadowy darkness that is so potent in the churches of the Spanishborderland. [Illustration: "ENTRANCES TO TWO NARROW STREETS. "--SISTERON. ] Many will pass through Sisteron and enjoy its rugged strength, itssun-lit days, its narrow streets, and the peaks that stand out in solemnsternness against the dark blue sky at night. Notre-Dame-de-Pomeriis hasnone of the salient beauty of any of these, and to appreciate itsancient charm, it must not be forgotten that the Provençal Cathedral hasnot the distinction of size or the elaboration of the greater Cathedralsof Gascony, that it is far removed from the fine originalities ofLanguedoc, that it is conventional, and, as it were, clannish, and thatits highest dignity is in a simple quiet that is never awe-full. Thereis, in truth, more than one church of this country that needs theembellishment of its history to make it truly interesting. ButNotre-Dame of Sisteron is not of these. It is not the big, empty shellof Carpentras, nor the little rough Cathedral of Orange. It is thesmaller, more perfect one, of finer inspiration, which the many willpass by, the few enjoy. IV. CATHEDRALS OF THE VALLEYS. [Sidenote: Orange. ] Lying on the Rhone, and almost surrounded by the papal Venaissin, is atiny principality of less than forty thousand acres. This small statehas given title to more than one distinguished European who neverentered its borders, and who was alien to it not only in birth, but inlanguage and family. So great was the fame of its rulers that thissmall, isolated strip of land suffered for their principles, andprobably owes to them much of its devastation in the terrible Wars ofReligion. From the well-known convictions of the Princes of Orange, thecountry was always counted a refuge for heretics of all shades, and in1338 they were in sufficient force to demolish the tower of theCathedral. Later in history, Charles IX declared William of Nassau "anoutlaw" and his principality "confiscate"; and in 1571, there was athree days' massacre of Protestants. In spite of this horrid orgy theReformers rose again in might and soon prevented all celebration ofCatholic rites. Refugees fleeing from the Dragonnades of Dauphiné and ofthe Cévennes poured into the principality; and when the Princes ofOrange were strong enough to protect their state, its Catholics livedrestricted lives; but when the Protestant power waned, Kings andCaptains of France raided the land in the name of the Church. And atthe death of William of Orange, King of England, Louis XIV seized thecapital of the state, razed its great palace and its walls, and afterthe Treaty of Utrecht had awarded the principality to the French crown, treated the defenceless Huguenots with the same impartial cruelty he hadmeted to their fellow-believers in other parts of the kingdom. Orange'schanges in religious fate are not unlike those of Nîmes, with thisessential difference, that here Catholicism has conquered triumphantly. Where ten worship in the little Protestant temple, a thousand throng tothe Mass. Both in history and its monumental Roman ruins, the capital of thisprovince, Orange, is one of the richest cities of the Southland, but itsCathedral is very poor and mean. The plan is one of the simplest of theProvençal conceptions, a "hall basilica, " archæologically interesting, but in its present state of patch and repair, architecturallycommonplace and unbeautiful. In spite of Protestant attacks and Catholicrestorations, the XI century type has been maintained, a rectangle whoseplain double arches support a tunnel vault and divide the interior intofour bays. The piers are heavy and severe; and between them are alcoves, used as chapels. The choir, narrower than the nave, is preceded by theusual dome, and beyond it is a little unused apse, concealed from therest of the interior by a wall. Unimportant windows built withdistinctly utilitarian purpose successfully light this small, simpleroom, and no kindly shadow hides its bareness or diminishes the unhappyeffect of the paintings which disfigure the walls. The Cathedral'sexterior is so surrounded by irregular old houses that the traveller haddiscovered it with some difficulty. It has little that is worthy ofdescription, and after having entered by a conspicuously poorRenaissance portal only to go out under an uninteresting modern one, hefound himself lost in wonder that the Cathedral-builders ofNotre-Dame-de-Nazareth should have utterly failed in a town whichoffered them such inspiring suggestions as the great Arch of Triumph andthe still greater Imperial Theatre, besides all the other remains ofRoman antiquity which, long after the building of Notre-Dame, thepractical Maurice of Orange demolished for the making of his mediævalcastle. [Sidenote: Cavaillon. ] It was growing dusk, of a spring evening, when the traveller arrived atCavaillon and wandered about the narrow streets and came upon theCathedral. Glimpses of an interesting dome and a turret-tower hadappeared once or twice above the house-tops, leading him on withfreshened interest, and there was still light enough for many firstimpressions when he arrived before the low cloister-door. But here wasno place for peaceful meditation. An old woman, coiffed and bent, brushed past him as she entered, a chair in each hand; and as he effacedhimself against the church wall, a younger woman went by, alsochair-laden. Two or three others came, talking eagerly, little girls inall stages of excitement ran in and out, and little boys came and went, divided between assumed carelessness and a feeling of unusualresponsibility. Then a priest appeared on the threshold, not inmeditation, but on business. Another, old and heavy, and panting, hurried in; and through the cloister-door, Monsieur le Curé, breviary inhand, prayed watchfully. A little fellow, running, fell down, and thepriest sprang to lift him; the child was too small not to wish to cry, but too much in haste to stop for tears. The priest watched him with akindly shrug and a smile as he ran on;--there was no time for laughingor crying, there was time for nothing but the mysterious matter in hand. "What is it?" the traveller finally asked. "Ah, Monsieur, to-morrow is the day of the First Communion. We all havejust prayed, just confessed, in the church; and our parents arearranging their places. For to-morrow there will be crowds--everybody. You too, Monsieur, are coming perhaps? The Mass is at half-past six. " Such was the living interest of the place that the traveller moved awaywithout any very clear architectural impression of the Cathedral, exceptof the curiously narrow bell-turret and of the height of the dome. He did not see the early Mass, but toward ten wandered again to theCathedral and entered the cloister-door. It was a low-vaulted, sombrelittle Cloister which all the chattering, animated crowds could notbrighten. Formerly two sides were gated off, and priests alone walkedthere. The other sides were public passage-ways to the church. Now onlythe iron grooves of the gates of separation remain, and the four walkswere thronged with people. Little girls in the white dresses of theirFirst Communion, veiled and crowned with roses, were hurrying to theirplaces; an old grandmother, with her arm around one of the littlecommunicants, knelt by a column, gazing up to the Virgin of thecloister-close; proud and anxious parents led their children intochurch, and friends met and kissed on both cheeks. In one corner, an oldwoman was driving a busy trade in penny-worths of barley candy. Diminutive altar-boys in white lace cassocks and red, fur-trimmedcapes, offered religious papers for sale. It was a harvest day forbeggars, and "for the love of the good God" many a sou was given intofeeble dirty hands. [Illustration: "IT WAS A LOW-VAULTED, SOMBRE LITTLE CLOISTER. "CAVAILLON. ] For a time the traveller walked about the Cloister, so tiny and worn aCloister that on any other day it must have seemed melancholy indeed. Solow a vaulting is not often found, massive and rounded and seeming topress, lowering, above the head. The columns, which help to support itsweight, are short and heavy and thick, so worn that their capitals aresometimes only suggestive and sometimes meaningless. On one side thecarving is distinctly Corinthian; on another altogether lacking. Betweenthe columns, one could glance into a close so small that ten paces wouldmeasure its length. It was a charming little spot, all filled withflowers and plants that told of some one's constant, tender care. Fromabove the nodding flowers and leaves rose the statue of the Madonna andthe Child. The tolling bell called laggards to Mass. With them, the travellerentered the church, and found it so crowded that it was only afterreceiving many knocks from incoming children, and sundry blows on thehead and shoulders from ladies who carried their chairs too carelessly, after minutes of time and a store of patience, that he finally reached ahaven, a corner of the Chapel of Saint-Véran. There, under the care ofthe Cathedral's Patron, he escaped further injuries and assisted at along, interesting ceremony. Mass had already begun, but the voice of the priest and the answeringorgan were lost in the movement of excited friends, the murmur ofquestions, and the clatter of nailed shoes on the stone floor. A Suisse, halberd in hand, and gorgeous in tri-cornered hat and the red and goldof office, kept the aisle-ways open with firm but kind insistence; andthe priests who were directing the children in the body of the church, were wise enough to overlook the disorder, which was not irreverence, but interest. For days, everybody had been thinking of this ceremony;everybody wanted "good places. " But few found them. For the little naveof the church was chiefly given up to the communicants. They sat on longbenches, facing each other. The boys, sixty or seventy of them, werenearest the Altar; the girls, even more numerous, nearest the door. Ayoung priest walked between the rows of boys and the old, panting Fatherdirected the girls. The whole interior of the church, at whose consecration no less aprelate than Pope Innocent IV had presided, is small and its plan isessentially of the Provençal type. The high tunnel vault rests, likethat of Orange, on double arches; and as the nave is very narrow and itslight very dim, the church seems lofty, sombre, and impressive, with avery serious dignity which its detail fails to carry out. The chapels, which lie between the heavy buttresses, are dim recesses which increasethe darkened effect of the interior. Of the ten, only three differessentially from the general plan; and although of the XVII century, their style is so severe and they are so ill-lighted that they do notgreatly debase the church. The choir is entered from under a roundedarchway, and its dome is loftier than the nave and much more beautifulthan the semi-dome of the apse, whose roof, in these practical moderntimes, has been windowed. That which almost destroys the effect of the church's fine lines andwould be intolerable in a stronger light, is the mass of gilt andpolychrome with which the interior is covered. The altars aremonstrously showy, the walls and buttresses are coloured, and even theinteresting, sculptured figures beneath the corbels have been carefullytinted. The dead arise with appropriate mortuary pallor, the halo ofChrist is pure gold, and all the draperies of God and His saints are intrue, primary shadings. From the contemplation of this misuse of paint, and of a sadly misplacedinner porch of the XVII century, the traveller's attention was recalledto the old priest. His hand was raised, the eye of every little girl wasfixed on him and instantly, in their soft, shrill voices, they began theverse of a hymn. The traveller glanced down the nave. Every boy was onhis feet, white ribbons hanging bravely from the right arm, the Crown ofThorns correctly held in one white-gloved hand, a Crucifix fastened witha bow of ribbon to the coat lapel. Every eye was on the young priest, who also raised his hand. Then they sang, as the girls had sung, andwith a right lusty will. And then, under the guiding hands, both boysand girls sang together. There was a silence when their voices diedaway, and from the altar a deep voice slowly chanted "Ite; missa est, "and the High Mass of the First Communion Day was over. Outside, little country carts stood near the church, and fathers andbrothers in blue blouses were waiting for the little communicants whohad had so long and so exciting a morning. Walking about with thecrowds, the traveller saw an exterior whose façade was plainlycommonplace and whose bare lateral walls were patched, and crowded byother walls. Finally he came upon the apse, the most interesting part ofthe church's exterior; and he leaned against a café wall and lookedacross the little square. Externally, the apse of Saint-Véran has five sides, and each side seemssupported by a channelled column. The capitals of these columns arecarved with leaves or with leaves and grotesques; on them round archesrest; and above is a narrow foliated cornice. In relieving contrast tothe artificial classicism of the Renaissance of the interior, thefeeling of this apse is quite truly ancient and pagan, and it is notless unique nor less charming because it is placed against a plain, uninteresting wall. The eye travelling upward, above the choir-dome, meets the lantern with its rounded windows and pointed roof, and by itsside the high little bell-turret which completes a curious exterior; anexterior which is interesting and even beautiful in detail, butirregular and heterogeneous as a whole. The Cathedral of Cavaillon is one of many possibilities. Although smalllike those of its Provençal kindred, it has more dignity than Orange, more simplicity of interior line than the present Avignon, and it is tobe regretted that it should have suffered no less from restoration thanfrom old age. [Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL'S TOWER AND TURRET. --CAVAILLON. ] [Sidenote: Apt. ] Few of the Cathedral-churches of the Midi are without holy relics, butnone is more famous, more revered, and more authentic a place ofpilgrimage than the Basilica of Apt. It came about in this way, sayslocal history. When Martha, Lazarus, and the Holy Marys of the Gospelslanded in France, they brought with them the venerated body of SaintAnne, the Virgin's Mother; and Lazarus, being a Bishop, kept the holyrelic at his episcopal seat of Marseilles. Persecutions arose, anddangers innumerable; and for safety's sake the Bishop removed SaintAnne's body to Apt and sealed it secretly in the wall. For centuries, Christians met and prayed in the little church, unconscious of thewonder-working relic hidden so near them; and it was only through amiracle, in Charlemagne's time and some say in his presence, that theholy body was discovered. This is the history which a sacristan recitesto curious pilgrims as he leads them to the sub-crypt. The sub-crypt of Sainte-Anne, one of the earliest of Gallo-Roman"churches, " is not more than a narrow aisle; its low vault seems topress over the head; the air is damp and chill; and the one littlecandle which the patient sacristan moves to this side and to that, showsthe plain, un-ornamented stone-work and the undoubted masonry of Romantimes. It was part of the Aqueduct which carried water to the Theatre inImperial days, and had become a chapel in the primitive Christian era. At the end which is curved as a choir is a heavy stone, used as analtar; and high in the wall is the niche where the body of the church'spatron lay buried for those hundreds of years. It is a gloomy, cell-likeplace, most curious and most interesting; and as the traveller saw faithin the earnest gaze of some of his fellow-visitors, and doubt in thesmiles of others, he wondered what ancient ceremonials, secret Masses, or secret prayers had been said in this tiny chamber, and what rows ofphantom-like worshippers had filed in and out the dark corridor. Directly above is the higher upper crypt of the church, a diminutive buttrue choir, with its tiny altar and ambulatory, --a jewel of theRomanesque, heavy and plain and beautifully proportioned, with columnsand vaulting in perfect miniature. This, from its absolute purity ofstyle, is the most interesting part of the church; and being a crypt, itis also the most difficult to see. In vain the sacristan ran from sideto side with his little candle, in vain the traveller gazed andpeered, --the little church was full of shadows and mysteries, dark andlost under the weight of the great choir above. [Illustration: "THE MAIN BODY OF THE CHURCH. "--APT. ] Even the main body of the church, above ground, is dimly lighted bysmall, rounded windows above the arches of the nave, and from the domeof Saint Anne's Chapel. Doubtless, on Sundays after High Mass, when thegreat doors are opened, the merry sun of Provence casts its cheerfulrays far up the nave. But this is a church which is the better for itsshadows. A Romanesque aisle of the IX or X century, built by that sameBishop Alphant who had seen the construction of the little crypt church, a central nave of the XI century, Romanesque in conception, and a northaisle of poor Provençal Gothic make a large but inharmoniousinterior. Restoration following restoration, chapels of the XVIIIcentury, new vaultings, debased and conglomerate Gothic, and spectaculardecorations of gilded wood have destroyed the architectural value andreal beauty of the Cathedral's interior. Yet in the dim light, which isthe light of its every-day life, the great height of the church and itssombre massiveness are not without impressiveness. The exterior dominates the city, but it is so hopelessly confused andcommonplace that its natural dignity is lost. The heavy arch whichsupports the clock tower forms an arcade across a narrow street andmakes it picturesque without adding dignity to the church itself. Thewalls are unmeaning, often hidden by buildings, and there is not aportal worthy of description. There is the dome of Saint Anne's Chapelwith a huge statue of the Patron, and the lantern of the central domeending in a pointed roof; but each addition to the exterior seems onlyan ignorant or a spiteful accentuation of the general architecturalconfusion. To the faithful Catholic, the interest of Sainte-Anne of Apt lies in itswonderful and glorious relics. Here are the bodies of Saint Eléazer andSainte Delphine his wife, a couple so pious that every morning theydressed a Statue of the Infant Jesus, and every night they undressed itand laid it to rest in a cradle. There is also the rosary of SainteDelphine whose every bead contained a relic; and before the Revolutionthere were other treasures innumerable. During many years Apt has beenthe pilgrim-shrine of the Faithful, and great and small offerings ofmany centuries have been laid before the miracle-working body of theVirgin's sainted Mother. [Illustration: THE VIRGIN AND SAINT ANNE. _By Benzoni. _] The most famous of those who came praying and bearing gifts was Anne ofAustria, whose petition for the gift of a son, an heir for France, wasgranted in the birth of Louis XIV. In gratitude, the Queen enriched thechurch by vestments wrought in thread of gold and many sacred ornaments;and at length she commanded Mansart to replace the little chapel inwhich she had prayed, by a larger and more sumptuous one, a somewhatuninteresting structure in the showy style of the XVII century, which isnow the resting-place of Saint Anne. In this chapel is the mostbeautiful of the church's treasures which, strange to say, is a piece ofmodern sculpture given by the present "Monseigneur of Avignon. " It issmall, and badly placed on a marble altar of discordant toning, with adraped curtain of red gilt-fringed velvet for its background. Yet inspite of these inartistic surroundings it has lost none of its tendercharm. Seated, with a scroll on her knees, the aged mother is earnestlyteaching the young Virgin who stands close by her side. The slender oldhand with its raised forefinger emphasises the lesson, and the lovingexpression of the wrinkled, ascetic face, the attentiveness of theVirgin and her slim young figure, make a touching picture, and abeautiful example of the power of the modern chisel. Yet faith inshrines and miraculous power is not, in this XX century, as pure nor asuniversal as in the days of the past; and Faith, in Provençal Apt whichpossesses so large a part of the Saint's body, is not as simple, andtherefore not as strong as in Breton Auray which has but a part of herfinger. Republicanism in the south country is not too friendly to theChurch, kings and queens no longer come with prodigal gifts, andSainte-Anne of Apt has not the peasant strength of Sainte-Anne of Auray. And in spite of the great feast-day of July, in spite of Aptoisianpride, in spite of the devotion and prayers of faithful worshippers, theCathedral of Apt is a church of past rather than of present glories. [Sidenote: Riez. ] Just as the church-bells were chiming the morning Angelus, and the warmsun was rising on a day of the early fall, a traveller drove out of oldManosque. He had no gun, --therefore he had not come for the hunting; hehad no brass-bound, black boxes, and therefore could not be a "Commis. "What he might be, he well knew, was troubling the brain of thebroad-backed man sitting before him, who, with many a long-drawn"Ou-ou-u-u-" was driving a fat little horse. But native courtesyconquered natural curiosity and they drove in silence to the long, finebridge that spans the river of evil repute: "Parliament, Mistral, and Durance Are the three scourges of Provence. " At that time of year, however, the Durance usually looks peaceable andharmless enough; half its great bed is dry and pebbly, and the waterthat rushes under the big arches of the bridge is not great in volume. But the size and strength of the bridge itself and certain huge rocks, placed for a long distance on either side of the road, are significantof floods and of the spring awakening of the monstrous river that, likeDoctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, has two lives. [Illustration: "SAINT-MARTIN-DE-BRÔMES WITH ITS HIGH, SLIM TOWER. "] [Illustration: "THE FORTIFIED MONASTERY OF THE TEMPLARS. "--(NEARGRÉOUX). ] The road wound about the low hills of the Alps, past a massive, fortified monastery of the Templars whose windows gape in ruin; pastSaint-Martin-de-Brômes with its high, slim, crenellated watch-tower;past many quiet little villages where in the old times, Taine says, "Good people lived as in an eagle's nest, happy as long as they were notslain--that was the luxury of the feudal times. " Between these villageslay vast groves of the grey-green olive-trees, large flourishing farms, and, further still, the bleak mountains of the Lower Alps. It was towardthem the driver was turning, for rising above a smiling little valley, surrounded by fields of ripened grain, lay Riez. A donjon stands above abroken wall, on the hillside houses cluster around a church's spire, andalone, on the top of the hill, stands the little Chapel of Saint-Maxime, the only relic of the Great Seminary that was destroyed by theRevolutionists of '89. Here, after the destruction of one of the severalCathedrals of Riez, the Bishop celebrated Masses, but the little chapelwas never consecrated a Cathedral. It has been recently restored andre-built in an uninteresting style, --the exterior is bare to ugliness, the interior so painted that the six old Roman columns which support thechoir are overwhelmed by the banality of their surroundings. The plateauon which the chapel is built is now almost bare; olive-trees grow to itsedges and there is no trace of the Seminary that was once so full ofactive life. The traveller, sitting in the shade of the few pine-trees, looked over the broad view toward the peaks whose bare rocks rise withawful sternness, and the little hills that stand between them and thevalley, till finally his eyes wandered to the town beneath, and thefirm, broad roads which approach it from every direction. For Riez, although in the lost depths of Provence, far from railways and tourists, is a bee-hive of industry, largely supplying the necessities of thesesecluded little towns. Its hat-making, rope factories, and tanneries arequite important; the shops of its main streets are not without atempting attractiveness, and there is all the provincial stateliness ofSaint-Remy with much less stagnancy. Riez was the Albece Reiorum Apollinarium in the Colonia Julia Reiorum ofthe Romans, but there are very few traces of the city with thishigh-sounding name. The whole atmosphere of the little town is XIIcentury. Two of its old gates, part of the wall, and the crenellatedtower still stand, with ruined convents and monasteries of Capuchins, Cordeliers, and Ursulines; and it may be inferred from the remains ofthe Bishop's Palace and the broad promenade which was one of itsavenues, and from the episcopal château at Montagnac, thatecclesiastical state was not less worthily upheld at Riez than in theother Sees of the South of France. Many difficulties, however, had beset the Cathedral-building prelates. Their first church, Notre-Dame-du-Siège, dating partly from thefoundation of the See in the IV century, partly from the X and XIIcenturies, was destroyed by storm and flood, and its site near thetreacherous little river being considered too perilous, a new Cathedralof Notre-Dame-du-Siège and Saint-Maxime was begun; and it was then thatthe Bishops celebrated temporarily at Saint-Maxime's on the hill. During the Revolution the See was suppressed; the church has been muchre-built and changed; so that only a tower which is part of the presentNotre-Dame-du-Siège, and the traces of the earliest foundation near thelittle Colostre, remain to tell of the different Cathedrals of Riez. [Illustration: "THE TOWER OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-SIÈGE. "--RIEZ. ] Near the site of the oldest church is one of the few monuments of a veryearly Christianity which have escaped the perils of time. It is ofunknown date, and although it is said to have been part of the Cathedralwhich stood between it and the river, it appears to have been always anindependent and separate building. The peasants say that in the memoryof their forefathers it was used as a chapel, they call it indefinitely"the Pantheon, " "the Temple, " or "the Chapel of Saint-Clair, " but it wasalmost certainly a baptistery of that curious and beautiful type whichwas abandoned so early in the evolution of Christian architecture. [Illustration: "NOTHING COULD BE MORE QUAINTLY OLD AND MODEST THAN THEBAPTISTERY. "--RIEZ. ] Following the road which his innkeeper pointed out, the traveller becameso absorbed in the busy movement of the communal threshing-ground, thearrival of the yellow grain, the women who were wielding pitchforks, andthe horses moving in circles, with solemn rhythm, that he nearly passeda low building, the object of his search. Nothing could be more quaintlyold and modest than the baptistery of Riez. It is a small squarebuilding of rough cemented stone whose stucco has worn away. The roof istiled, and from out a flattened dome, blades of grass sprout sparsely. Atiny bell-turret and an arch in the front wall complete theornamentation of this humble, diminutive bit of architecture, and exceptthat it is different from the usual Provençal manner of construction, one would pass many times without noticing it. [Illustration: "BETWEEN THE COLUMNS AN ALTAR HAS BEENPLACED. "--BAPTISTERY, RIEZ. ] Walking down the steps which mark the differences that time has made inthe levels of the ground and entering a small octagonal hall, one of themost interesting interiors of Provence meets the eye. "Each of its foursides, " writes Jules de Laurière, "which correspond to the angles of theouter square, has a semicircular apse built in the walls themselves. Theeight columns, placed in a circle about the centre of the edifice, divide it into a circular nave and a central rotunda, and support eightarches which, in turn, support an octagonal drum, and above this is thedome. " This room is of simple and charming architectural conception, andeven in melancholy ruin, it has much beauty. It gains in comparison withthe re-constructed baptisteries of Provence, for something of aprimitive character has been preserved to which such modern altars andXVII century trappings as those of Aix and Fréjus are fatal. Under theheavy dust there is visible an unhappy coating of whitewash, traces of afire still blacken the walls, fragments of Roman sculpture are scatteredabout, and between the columns a pagan altar has been placed forsafe-keeping. The columns themselves are of pagan construction, and asthey differ somewhat in size and capitals, it is not improbable thatthey came from the ruins of several of the great public buildings ofRiez. At the time of the baptistery's construction, the barbaricinvasion had begun, and these Roman monuments may have been in ruins;but in any case, it was a pious and justifiable custom of Christians totake from pagan structures, standing or fallen, stones and pillars thatwould serve for building churches to the "one, true God. " The pillarsprocured for this laudable purpose at Riez, with their beautiful, carvedcapitals, gave the little baptistery its one decoration, and far fromdisturbing the simplicity of its style, they add a slenderness andheight and harmony to a room which, without them, would be too stifflybare. In the rotunda which they form, excavations have brought to lighta baptismal pool, and conduits which brought to it sufficient quantitiesof water for the immersion--whole or partial--that was part of thebaptismal service of the early Church. But the archæological work hasabruptly ceased, and it is to be deeply regretted that here, in thisdeserted place, where the Church desires no present restorations inaccordance with particular rites or modern styles of architecture, thereshould not be a complete rehabilitation, a baptistery restored to theactual state of its own era. [Illustration: "THE BEAUTIFUL GRANITE COLUMNS. "--RIEZ. ] Wandering across the fields, with the re-constructive mania strong uponhim, the traveller came across the beautiful granite columns which withtheir capitals, bases, and architraves of marble, are the last standingmonument of Riez's Roman greatness. Fragments of sculpture, bits ofstone set in her walls, exist in numbers; but they are too isolated, toovague, to suggest the lost beauty and grandeur which these lonelycolumns express. He gazed at them in wonder. Was he stepping where oncehad been a grand and busy Forum, was he looking at the Temple of somegreat Roman god? The voices of the threshers sounded cheerily, theProvençal sun shone bright and warm, but one of the greatest ofmysteries was before him, --the silent mystery of a dead past that hadonce been a living present. He sat by the river, and tossed pebbles intoits shallow waters; the slanting rays of the sun gave the columnsdelicate tints, old yellows and greys and violets, and at length, asevening fell, they seemed to grow higher and whiter in the paler light, until they looked like lonely funereal shafts, recalling to the memoryof forgetful man, Riez's long-dead greatness. [Sidenote: Senez. ] In the comfortable civilisation of France, the stage-coach usuallybegins where the railroad ends; and however remote a destination ortedious a journey, an ultimate and safe arrival is reasonably certain. This was the reflection which cheered the traveller when he began tosearch for Senez, an ancient city of the Romans which was christianisedin the early centuries and enjoyed the rank of Bishopric until theRevolution of '89. In spite of this dignified rank and the tenacity ofan ancient foundation, it lies so far from modern ken that even worthieswho live fifty miles away could only say that "Senez is not much of aplace, but it doubtless may be found ten--perhaps fifteen--or eventwenty kilometres behind the railroad. " "If Monsieur alighted at Barrême, probably the mail for Senez would beleft there too. And where letters go, some man or beast must carrythem, and one could always follow. " With these vague directions, the traveller set gaily out for Barrême, where a greater than he had spent one bleak March night on the anxiousjourney from Elba to Paris. The town shows no trace of Napoleon'shurried visit. It looks a mere sleepy hamlet, and when the travellerleft the train he had already decided to push his journey onward. "To Senez?" A man stepped up in answer to his inquiry. "Certainly therewas a way to get there, the mail-coach started in an hour. And a hotel?A very good hotel--not Parisian perhaps, but hot food, a bottle of goodwine, and a clean bed. Could one desire more on this earth?" The traveller thought not, and left the station--to stand transfixedbefore the most melancholy conveyance that ever bore the high-soundingname of "mail-coach. " A little wagon in whose interior six thin personsmight have crowded, old windows shaking in their frames, the remains ofa coat of yellow paint, and in front a seat which a projecting bit ofroof protected from the sun, --this was the mail-coach of Senez, drawn bya dejected, small brown mule, ragged with age, and a gaunt white horsewho towered above him. To complete the equipage, this melancholy pairwere hitched with ropes. In due course of time the driver came, hooked an ancient tin box marked"Lettres" to the dash-board, threw in a sacking-bag, and cap in hand, invited the traveller to mount with him "where there was air. " The longwhip cracked authoritatively, the postilion, a beautiful black dog, jumped to the roof, and the mail-coach of Senez, with rattle and creak, started on its scheduled run. "Houp-là, thou bag of lazy bones done up in a brown skin! Ho-là, thouwhited sepulchre, thinkest thou I will get out and carry thee? Take thisand that. " [Illustration: "THE MAIL-COACH OF SENEZ. "] On either side the whip hit the road ferociously, but the old beasts ofburden shook their philosophic heads and slowly jogged on, knowing wellthey would not be touched. The hot sun of Provence, which "drinks a river as man drinks a glass ofwine, " shone on the long, white "route nationale" that stretched out inwell-kept monotony through a valley which might well have been named"Desolation. " On either hand rose mountains that were great masses ofbare, seared rocks, showing the ravages of forgotten glaciers; the soilthat once covered them lay at their feet. Scarcely a shrub pushed outfrom the crevices, and even along the road, the few thin poplars foundthe poorest of nourishment. Crossing a small bridge, there came into view an ancient village, a merehandful of clustered wooden roofs, irregular, broken, and decayed. "It was a city in the days when we were Romans, " said the Courier, "andthey say that there are treasures underneath our soil. But who can tellwhen people talk so much? And certainly two sous earned above ground buyhotter soup than one can gain in many a search for twenty francs below. " He whipped up for a suitable and striking entry into town, turned into alane, and with much show of difficulty in reining up, stood before the"hotel. " The traveller, having descended, entered a room that might have been thesubject of a quaint Dutch canvas. He saw a low ceiling, smoky walls, long rows of benches, a sanded floor, and pine-board tables thatstretched back to an open door; and through the open door, the potswinging above the embers of the kitchen fire. The mistress of the inn, a strong white-haired woman of seventy, came hurrying in to greet herguest. "It was late, " she said, and quickly put a basin full of water, anew piece of soap, and a fresh towel on a chair near the kitchen door;and as the traveller prepared himself for dinner he heard the cracklingof fresh boughs upon the fire and the cheerful singing of the pot. Little lamps were lighted, and when he came to his table's end, he foundgood country wine and a steaming cabbage-soup. Others came in to dineand smoke and talk, and later from his bed-room window, he saw theirghostly figures moving up and down the unlighted streets and heard themsay good-night. The inn-door was noisily and safely barred, and when theretreating footsteps and the voices had died away, the quiet of the darkremained unbroken until a watchman, with flickering lantern, passed, andcried aloud "All's well. " [Illustration: "THE OPEN SQUARE. "--SENEZ. ] Next morning the sun shone brightly on Senez, and the traveller hurriedto the open square. A horse, carrying a farmer's boy, meandered slowlyby, a chicken picked here and there, and water trickled slowly from thetiny faucet of the village fountain. [Illustration: "THE PALACE OF ITS PRELATES. "--SENEZ. ] In this quiet spot, near the lonely desolation of the hills, is theCathedral. The Palace of its prelates, which is opposite, is now afarm-house where hay-ricks stand in the front yard, and windows havebeen walled up because Provençal winds are cold and glass is dear. [Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL. --SENEZ. ] Looking at this residence, one would think that the last Bishops ofSenez were insignificant priests, steeped in country wine and countrystagnancy. But such a supposition is very far from true. For we knowthat in the XVIII century, Jean Soannen, Bishop of the city, was calledbefore a Council at Embrun to answer a charge of resistance to thefar-famed Bull "Unigenitus, " and so strong were his convictions and sogreat his loyalty to his conscience, that he resisted the Council aswell as the Bull, and was deprived of his See as a Jansenist andrecalcitrant, and exiled to the Abbey of La-Chaise-Dieu. In quiet Senezthere must always have been time for reflection, and one can imagine thebitter struggle of this brave man as he walked the rooms of the Palace, as he crossed and re-crossed the small square to the Cathedral. One canimagine his wrestling with God and his conscience every time that hecelebrated a Mass for the people before the Cathedral's altar. One canunderstand the bitter fight between two high ideals, irreconcilable inhis life, --that of work in God's vineyard or of doctrinal purity as hesaw it. He had to choose between them, this Bishop of Senez, and when heleft the town to answer the summons of the Council at Embrun, his heartmust have been sore within him, he must have said farewell to manythings. Few decisions can be more serious than the renunciation offamily and home for the service of God, few more solemn than thestruggles between the flesh and the spirit; but no more pathetic picturecan exist than that sad figure of Jean Soannen; for he had renouncedfamily and the world, and for the sake of "accepted truth" which wasfalse to him, endured helpless, solitary insignificance under theespionage of suspicious and unfriendly monks. The traveller rememberedhis tomb, that tomb in a small chapel near the foot of the stair-case inthe famous Abbey far-away, and sighing, hoped that in his mournfulexile, the Bishop may have realised that "they also serve who only standand wait. " The Bull Unigenitus, which caused his downfall, is believed to havecaused, during the last years of Louis XIV's bigotry, the persecution ofthirty thousand respectable, intelligent, and orderly Frenchmen. DeNoailles, several Bishops, and the Parliament of Paris refused to acceptit, though they stopped short of open rebellion, and even Fénélon"submitted" rather than acceded to it. This famous and vexatiousdocument was an unhappy emanation of Pope Clement XIII. Hard pressed byhis faithful supporters, the Jesuits, he promulgated it in 1713, and itcondemns with great explicitness one hundred and one propositions whichare taken from Quesnel's Jansenistic "Réflexions morales sur le NouveauTestament. " The Jesuits held the Jansenists in a horror which theJansenists reciprocated; the Pope owed almost too heavy a debt ofgratitude to the order of Saint Ignatius and was constrained to repay. But the Bull, instead of procuring peace, brought the greatestaffliction and desolation of mind to His Holiness, and when later, theFrench envoy asked him why he had condemned such an odd number ofpropositions, the Pope seizing his arm burst into tears. "Ah Monsieur Amelot! Monsieur Amelot! What would you have me do? Istrove hard to curtail the list, but Père Le Tellier"--Louis XIV's lastconfessor and a devoted Jesuit--"had pledged his word to the King thatthe book contained more than one hundred errors, and with his foot on myneck, he compelled me to prove him right. I condemned only one more!" The Cathedral of Senez is an humble village church where frank andsimple poverty exists with the remains of ancient splendour. It issmall, as are all churches of its style, and although it does not lack ahomely dignity, it is a modest work of XII century Romanesque, and thesonorous title of its consecration in 1242, "the Assumption of theBlessed Virgin Mary, " suggests an impressiveness which the Cathedralnever had. Two heavy buttresses that support the façade wall are reminiscent of themore majestic Notre-Dame-du-Bourg of Digne, and on them rest the ends ofa pointed gable-roof. Between these buttresses, the wall is pierced by along and graceful round-arched window, and below the window is thesingle, pointed portal whose columns are gone and whose delicatefoliated carvings and mouldings are sadly worn away. A sun-dial paintedon the wall tells the time of day, and at the gable's sharpest point asaucy little angel with a trumpet in his mouth blows with the wind. [Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL. --SENEZ. ] Entering the little portal, the traveller saw the poor wooden benches ofthe congregation massed together, and beyond them, the stalls oflong-departed Canons. In front of these old stalls, stood the church'slatest luxury, a melodeon, and above them hung the tapestries of itsricher past. Tapestries also beautify the choir-walls, and on eitherside, are the narrow transepts and the apses of a good old style. Thereare also poor and tawdry altars which stand in strange, pitiablecontrast with the old walls and the fine tunnel vaulting, the dignifiedarchitecture of the past. [Illustration: "TAPESTRIES BEAUTIFY THE CHOIR WALLS. "--SENEZ. ] Leaving the interior, where a solitary peasant knelt in prayer, thetraveller saw side-walls bare as the mountains round about, the squattower that rises just above the roof, and coming to the apse-end hefound the presbytery garden. From the garden, beyond the fallen gate, hesaw the church as the Curé saw it, the three round apses with theirlittle columns, the smaller decorative arches of the cornices, thepointed roof, and between branches full of apple blossoms, the softenedlines of the low square tower. Here, trespassing, the Curé found him. And after they had walked about the town, and talked the whole day longof the great world which lay so far beyond, they went into the littlegarden as the sun was going down, and fell to musing over coffee cups. The priest was first to speak. "Perhaps, buried under those old church walls, lie proofs of our earlyhistory, the stones of some old Temple, or statues of its gods; for wewere once Sanitium, a Roman city in a country of six Roman roads. Perhaps all around us were great monuments of pagan wealth, a Mausoleumnear these bare old rocks like that which stands in loneliness nearSaint-Remy, Villas, Baths, or Triumphal Arches. " The keen eyes softened, as he continued in gentle irony, "Down in thislittle valley of the Asse de Blieux, our town seems far away from anyscene in which the great ones of earth took part. Although I know thatit is true, it often seems to me a legend that the gay and gallantFrancis I, rushing to a mad war, stopped on his way to injure us; andthat four hundred years ago a band of Huguenots raved around our oldCathedral, and tried to pull it to the ground. " "And do you think it can be true, " the traveller asked, "that Bishopsheld mysterious prisoners in that tower for most dreary lengths oftime?" [Illustration: "BETWEEN BRANCHES FULL OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS, THE CHURCH ASTHE CURÉ SAW IT. "--SENEZ. ] The Curé smiled, and shook his white head. "That is a story which thepeasants tell, --an old tradition of the land. It may be true, sincepriests are mortal men and doubtless dealt with sinners. " He smiledindulgently. "Through the many years I have been here, I have oftenwondered about all these things, but it is seldom I can speak mythoughts. Sometimes when I am here alone, I lose the sense of presentthings and seem to see the phantoms of the past. Then the dusk comes on, as it is coming now; the night blots Senez from my sight as fate hasblotted out its record from history, --and I realise that our humanmemory is in vain. " [Sidenote: Aix. ] The old Cathedral of Saint-Sauveur at Aix is not one of those rarelybeautiful churches where a complete and restful homogeneity delights theeye, nor is it a church of crude and shocking transitions. It is rathera well-arranged museum of ecclesiastical architecture, where, insufficient historical continuity and harmony, many Provençal conceptionsare found, and the evolution of Provençal architecture may be verycompletely followed. As in all collections, the beauty of Saint-Sauveuris not in a general view or in any glance into a long perspective, butin a close and loving study of the details it encloses; and so charming, so really beautiful are many of the diverse little treasures of Aix, that such study is better repaid here than in any other ProvençalCathedral. For this is one of the largest Cathedrals of the province, and the buildings which form the ecclesiastical group are mostcomplete. With its baptistery, Cloister, church, and arch-episcopalPalace, it is not only of many epochs and styles, but of many historicaluncertainties, and the hypotheses of its construction are enough to dazethe most hardened archæologist. [Illustration: "THE SOUTH AISLE. "--AIX. ] The oldest part of the Cathedral is the baptistery, and the date of itsorigin is unknown. Much of its character was lost in a restoration ofthe XVII century, but its old round form, the magnificent Roman columnsof granite and green marble said to have been part of the Temple toApollo, give it an atmosphere of dignity and an ancient charm that eventhe XVII century--so potent in architectural evil--was unable todestroy. [Illustration: THE ROMANESQUE PORTAL. ] In 1060, after the destructive vicissitudes of the early centuries, Archbishop Rostaing d'Hyères issued a pastoral letter appealing tothe Faithful to aid him in the re-building of a new Cathedral; and itmay be reasonably supposed that the nave which is at present the southaisle, the baptistery, and the Cloisters were the buildings that werededicated less than fifty years later. They are the only portions of thechurch which can be ascribed to so early a period, and with the low doorof entrance, the single nave and the adjoining cloister-walk, theyconstitute the usual plan of XI century Romanesque. Considering this asthe early church, in almost original form, it will be seen that theportal is a very interesting example of the Provençal use not only ofRoman suggestion, but of the actual fragments of Roman art which hadescaped the invader; that the south aisle, in itself a completedinterior, bears a close resemblance to Avignon; and that the Cloister, although now very worn and even defaced, must have been one of thequaintest and most delicate, as it is one of the tiniest, in Provence. Three sides of its arcades support plain buildings of a later date; thefourth stands free, as if in ruin. Little coupled columns, someslenderly circular, some twisted, and some polygonal, rest on a lowwall; piers, very finely and differently carved, are at each of thearcade angles; the little capitals of the columns were once beautifullycut, and even the surfaces of the arches have small foliated disks androsettes and are finished in roll and hollow. Unfortunately, a verylarge part of this detail-work is so defaced that its subjects arebarely suggested, some are so eaten away that they are as desolate ofbeauty as the barren little quadrangle; and the whole Cloister seems tohave reached the brink of that pathetic old age which Shakespeare hasdescribed, and that another step in the march of time would leave it"sans everything. " [Illustration: THE CLOISTER. --AIX. ] About two hundred years later, in 1285, the Archbishop of Aix found theCathedral too unpretending for the rank and dignity of the See, and hebegan the Gothic additions. Like many another prelate his ambitions werelarger than his means; and the history of Saint-Sauveur from the XIII tothe XIX century, is that oft-told tale of new indulgences offered fornew contributions, halts and delays in construction, emptied treasuries, and again, appeals and fresh efforts. The beginnings of the enlargedCathedral were architecturally abrupt. The old nave, becoming the southaisle, was connected with the new by two small openings; it retainedmuch of its separateness and in spite of added chapels much actualisolation. The Gothic nave, the north aisle and its many chapels, theapse, and the transepts, whose building and re-construction stretchedover the long period between the XIII and XVII centuries, arecomparatively regular, uniform, and uninteresting. The most ambitiousview is that of the central nave, whose whole length is so little brokenby entrances to the side aisles, that it seems almost solidly enclosedby its massive walls. Here in Gothic bays, are found those rounded, longitudinal arches which belong to the Romanesque and to some structurewhose identity is buried in the mysterious past. The choir, with itslong, narrow windows, and clusters of columnettes, is very pleasing, andits seven sides, foreign to Provence, remind one of Italian and Spanishconstructive forms and take one's memory on strange jaunts, to thefar-away Frari in Venice and the colder Abbey of London. From the choirof Saint-Sauveur two chapels open; and one of them is a charming bit ofarchitecture, a replica in miniature of the mother-apse itself. Thepaintings of this mother-apse are neutral, its glass has no claim tosumptuousness, and the stalls are very unpretending; but above them hangtapestries ascribed to Matsys, splendid hangings of the Flemish schoolthat were once in old Saint Paul's. With these beautiful details the rich treasure-trove of the interior isexhausted, and one passes out to study the details of the exterior. TheCathedral's single tower, which rises behind the façade line, was one ofthe parts that was longest neglected, --perhaps because a tower is lessessential to the ritual than any other portion of an ecclesiasticalbuilding. Begun in 1323, the work dragged along with many periods ofabsolute idleness, until 1880, when a balustrade with pinnacles at eachangle was added to the upper octagonal stage, and the building of thetower was thus ended. The octagon with its narrow windows rests on aplain, square base that is massively buttressed. It is a pleasant, rather than a remarkable tower, and one's eye wanders to the morebeautiful façade. Here, encased by severely plain supports, is one ofthe most charming portals of Provençal Gothic. Decorated buttressesstand on either side of a large, shallow recess which has a high andpointed arch, and in the centre, a slim pier divides the entrance-wayinto two parts, pre-figuring the final division of the Just and theUnjust. A multitude of finely sculptured statues were formerly hidden inniches, under graceful canopies, and in the hundred little nooks andcorners which lurk about true Gothic portals. Standing Apostles andseated Patriarchs, baby cherubs peering out, and the more dramaticcomposition of the tympanum--the Transfiguration, --all lent a dignityand wealth to Saint-Sauveur. Unfortunately many of these sculptures weretorn from their crannies in the great Revolution; and it is only a fewof the heavenly hosts, --the gracious Madonna, Saint Michael, and theProphets, --that remain as types of those that were so wantonlydestroyed. The low, empty gables that sheltered lost statues, theirslender, tapering turrets, and the delicate outer curve of the arch, areof admirable, if not imposing, composition. The portal's wooden doors, protected by plain casings, abound in carvings partly Renaissance, partly Gothic. The Sibyls and Prophets stand under canopies, surroundedby foliage, fruits, and flowers, or isolated from each other by littlebuttresses or pilasters. This Gothic portal quite outshines, in itsgraceful elaboration, the smaller door which stands near it, in thesimpler and not less potent charm of the Romanesque. And side by side, these portals offer a curiously interesting comparison of the essentialdifferences and qualities of their two great styles. If the Romanesqueof Saint-Sauveur is far surpassed at Arles and Digne and Sisteron, nowhere in Provence has Gothic richer details; and if the noblest ofProvençal creations must be sought in other little cities, the lover ofarchitectural comparisons, of details, of the many lesser things ratherthan of the harmony of a single whole, will linger long in Aix. [Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL. --AIX. ] The old city itself shows scarcely a trace of the many historic dramasof which it has been the scene, --the lowering tragedy of the Vaudoistime, --the bright, gay comedy of good king René's Court, --the shorterscenes of Charles V's occupation, --the Parliament's struggle withRichelieu and Mazarin, --the day of the fiery Mirabeau, --the grimmelodrama of the Revolution, --all have passed, and time has destroyedtheir monuments almost as completely as the Saracens destroyed those ofthe earlier Roman days. Only a few, unformed fragments of the greatTemple of Apollo remain in the walls of Saint-Sauveur. The earliestCathedral, Sainte-Marie-de-la-Seds, has entirely disappeared, the oldthermal springs are enclosed by modern buildings, and only the statue of"the good King René" and the Church of the Knights of Malta give to Aixa faint atmosphere of its past distinction. Who would dream that herewere the homes of the elegant and lettered courtiers of King René'sbrilliant capital, who would think that this town was the earliest Romansettlement in Gaul, the Aquæ Sextiæ of Baths, Temples, Theatres, andgreat wealth? Aix is a stately town, a provincial capital which Balzacmight well have described--with old, quiet streets that are a littledreary, with a fine avenue shaded by great trees in whose shadows a fewfountains trickle, with lines of little stages that come each day fromthe country, --a city whose life is as far in spirit from the near-bymodernity of Marseilles as it is from that of Paris, as quaintly anddelightfully provincial as that other little Provençal city, theTarascon of King René and of Tartarin. Languedoc. I. CATHEDRALS OF THE CITIES. [Sidenote: Nîmes. ] Entering Languedoc from the valley of the Rhone, the Cathedral-lover isdoomed to disappointment in the city of Nîmes. All that intense, intra-mural life of the Middle Ages seems to have passed this city by, and its traces, which he is so eager to find, prove to be neithernotable nor beautiful. [Illustration: "AN AMPHITHEATRE WHICH RIVALS THE ART OF THECOLISEUM. "--NÎMES. ] The great past of Nîmes is of a more remote antiquity than the CathedralBuilding Ages. A small but exquisite Temple, a Nymphæum, Baths, parts ofa fine Portal, Roman walls, and an Amphitheatre which rivals the art ofthe Coliseum, --these are the ruins of Nîmean greatness. She wasessentially a city of the Romans, and that, even to-day, she has notlost the memory of her glorious antiquity was well illustrated in 1874, when the Nîmois, with much pomp and civic pride, unveiled a statue to"their fellow-countryman, " the Emperor Antoninus Pius. These are thememories in which Nîmes delights. Yet her history of later times, if notglorious, is full of strange and curious interest. Like all the ancientcities of the South, she fell into the hands of many a wild and alienfoe, and at length in 737, Charles Martel arrived at her gates. Grosslyignorant of art, no thing of beauty that stood in his path escaped fireand axe; and smoke-marks along the arena walls show to-day how narrowlythey escaped the irreparable destruction which had wiped out the Forum, the Capitol, the Temple, the Baths, and all the magnificence of RomanNarbonne. To both the early and the later Middle Ages, Roman remains hadscarcely more meaning than they had for the Franks. The delicate Templeof Trajan's wife, scorned for its pagan associations, was used as astable, a store-house, and, purified by proper ceremonials, it evenbecame a Christian church. The Amphitheatre has had a still strangerdestiny. To a mediæval Viscount, it was naturally inconceivable as aplace of amusement, and as naturally, he saw in its walls a strongholdwhere he could live as securely as ever lord in castle. As a fortresswhich successfully defied Charles Martel, it was a place of no meanstrength, and in 1100 it had become "a veritable hornets' nest, buzzingwith warriors. " A few years before, Pope Urban II had landed at Maguelonne and ridden toClermont to preach the First Crusade. On his return he stopped at Nîmesand held a Council for the same holy purpose. Raymond de Saint-Gilles, Count of Toulouse and overlord of Nîmes, travelled there to meet theSovereign Pontiff, and amid the wonderful ferment of enthusiasm whichthe "Holy War" had aroused, the South was pledged anew to this romanticand war-like phase of the cause of Christ. Trencavel, Viscount of Nîmes, loyal to God and his Suzerain, followed Raymond to Palestine. Itsnatural protectors gone, the city formed a defensive association calledthe "Chevaliers of the Arena. " As its name implies, this curiousfraternity was composed of the soldiers of the ancient amphitheatre. Like many others of the time it was semi-military, semi-religious, itsmembers bound by many solemn oaths and ceremonies, and thus, by theeccentricity of fate, this old pagan playground became a fortressconsecrated to Christian defence, the scene of many a solemn Mass. The divisions in the Christian faith, which followed so closely thefervours of the Crusades, were most disastrous to Nîmes. From the XIIIuntil the XVII centuries, wars of religion were interrupted bysuspicious and unheeded truces, and these in turn were broken by freshoutbursts of embittered contest. An ally of the new "Crusaders" in Simonde Montfort's day, Nîmes became largely Protestant in the XVI century;and in 1567, as if to avenge the injuries their ancestors had formerlyinflicted on the Albigenses, the Nîmois sacked their Bishop's Palace andthrew all the Catholics they could find down the wells of the town. Thiscelebration of Saint Michael's Day was repaid at the Massacre of SaintBartholomew. The wise Edict of Nantes brought a truce to thesehostilities, --its revocation, new persecutions and flights. A hundredyears later the Huguenots were again in force, and, aided by the unrestof the Revolution, successfully massacred the Catholics of the city; andduring the "White Terror" of 1815 the Catholics arose and avengedthemselves with equal vigour. When it is remembered that this savage andvindictive spirit has characterised the Nîmois of the last six hundredyears, it is scarcely surprising that they should prefer to dwell on theremote antiquity of their city rather than on the unedifying episodes ofher Christian history. Between the glories of her paganism and the disputes of Christians, theFaith has struggled and survived; but in the Cathedral-building era, religious enthusiasm was so often expended in mutual fury and reprisalsthat neither time nor thought was left for that common and gentleexpression of mediæval fervour, ecclesiastical architecture. And theChurch of Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Castor, which would seem to have sufferedfrom the neglect and ignorance of both patrons and builders, is one ofthe least interesting Cathedrals in Languedoc. A graceful gallery of the nave, which also surrounds the choir, is thenotable part of the interior, and the insignificance of the exterior isrelieved only by a frieze of the XI and XII centuries. On this frieze issculptured, in much interesting detail, the Biblical stories of theearly years of mankind; but it is unfortunately placed so high on thefront wall that it seems badly proportioned to the façade, and as acarved detail it is almost indistinguishable. As has been finely saidthe whole church is "gaunt" and unbeautiful; it is a depressing mixtureof styles, Roman, Romano-Byzantine, and Gothic; and in studying its onefine detail, a photograph or a drawing is much more satisfactory than anhour's tantalising effort to see the original. [Sidenote: Montpellier. ] Montpellier is "an agreeable city, clean, well-built, intersected byopen squares with wide-spread horizons, and fine, broad boulevards, acity whose distinctive characteristics would appear to be wealth, and ataste for art, leisure, and study. " The "taste" and the "art" areprincipally those of the pseudo-classic style, an imitation of "ancientGreece and imperial Rome, " which the French of the XVIII century carriedto such unpleasant excess. The general characteristics of the imitation, size and bombast, are well epitomised in the principal statue ofMontpellier's fine Champ de Mars, which represents the high-heeled andluxurious Louis XIV in the unfitting armour of a Roman Imperator, mounted on a huge and restive charger. Such affectation in architecturalsubjects is the death-blow to all real beauty and originality, andMontpellier has gained little from its Bourbon patrons except a seriesof fine broad vistas. No city could offer greater contrast to theancient and dignified classicism of Nîmes. If the mediæval origin of Montpellier were not well known, one wouldbelieve it the creation of the Renaissance, and the few narrow, tortuousstreets of the older days recall little of its intense past, when thecity grew as never before nor since, when scholars of the genius ofPetrarch and the wit of Rabelais sought her out, when she belonged toAragon or Navarre and not to the King of France. This is the interestingMontpellier. In the XIII century, she had a University which the Pope formallysanctioned, and a school of medicine founded by Arabian physicians whichrivalled that of Paris. More significant still to Languedoc, herprosperity had begun to overshadow that of the neighbouring Bishopric ofMaguelonne, and a bitter rivalry sprang up between the two cities. Fromthe first Maguelonne was doomed. She had no schools that could rivalthose of Montpellier; she ceased to grow as the younger city increasedin fame and size, till even history passed her by, and the stirringevents of the times took place in the streets of her larger and moreprosperous neighbour. Finally she was deserted by her Bishops, and nolonger upheld by their episcopal dignity, her fall was so overwhelmingthat to-day her mediæval walls have crumbled to the last stone and onlya lonely old Cathedral remains to mark her greatness. In 1536 my LordBishop, with much appropriate pomp and ceremony, rode out of her gatesand entered those of Montpellier as titular Bishop for the first time. He did not find the townsmen so elated by the new dignity of the city asto have broken ground for a new Cathedral, nor did he himself seemambitious, as his predecessors of Maguelonne had been, to build a churchworthy of his rank. However, as a Bishop must have a Cathedral-church, the chapel of the Benedictine monastery was chosen for this honour andsolemnly consecrated the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre of Montpellier. Thischapel had been built in the XIV century, and at the time of theseepiscopal changes, only the nave was finished. It was, however, Gothic;and as this style had become much favoured by the South at this lateperiod, the Bishop must have believed that he had the beginning of avery fine and admirable Cathedral. In the religious wars which followed1536, succeeding prelates found much to distract them from any furtherbuilding; the Cathedral itself was so injured that such attention ascould be spared from heretics to mere architectural details was devotedto necessary restorations and reconstructions, and the finishedSaint-Pierre of to-day is an edifice of surprising modernity. In the interior, the nave and aisles are partially of old construction, but the beautiful choir is the XIX century building of Révoil. Of theexterior, the entire apse is his also, and as the portal of the southwall was built in 1884 and the northern side of the Cathedral isincorporated in that of the Bishop's Palace, only the tower and thefaçade are mediæval. [Illustration: "ITS GENERAL EFFECT IS SOMEWHAT THAT OF APORTE-COCHÉRE. "--MONTPELLIER. ] None of the towers have much architectural significance, either ofbeauty or originality. In comparison with the decoration of the façadethey make but little impression. This decoration has more originalincongruity than any detail ever applied to façade, Gothic orRomanesque, and is an extreme example of the license which southernbuilders allowed themselves in their adaptation of the northern style. It is a vagary, and has appealed to some Anglo-Saxon travellers, butFrench authorities, almost without dissent, allude to it apologeticallyas "unpardonable. " Its general effect is somewhat that of aporte-cochère, whose roofing, directly attached to the front wall, isgothically pointed, and supported by two immense pillars. The pillarsend in cones that resemble nothing in the world so much as sugar-loaves, and the whole structure is marvellously unique. Yet strange to say, theeffect of the façade, with the smoothness and roundness of its pillarsand the uncompromising squareness of its towers, while altogether bad, is not altogether unpleasing. Standing before it the traveller was bothbewildered and fascinated as he saw that even in the extravagance oftheir combinations, the builders, with true southern finesse, hadavoided both the grotesque and the monstrous. [Illustration: "THE FINEST VIEW IS THAT OF THE APSE. "--MONTPELLIER. ] As a whole, Saint-Pierre is a fine Cathedral; through many stages ofbuilding, enlarging, and re-constructing, its style has remainedconsonant; but the general impression is not altogether harmonious. Theperspective of the western front, which should be imposing, is destroyedby a hill which slopes sharply up before the very portal. The façade isattached to the immense, unbroken wall of the old episcopal Palace, andthe majesty, which is a Cathedral's by very virtue of its height alone, is entirely destroyed by a seemingly interminable breadth of wall. Reversing the natural order of things, the finest view is that of theapse. And this modern part is, in reality, the chief architectural gloryof this comparatively new Cathedral and its comparatively modern town. [Sidenote: Béziers. ] "You have only to look from a distance at any old-fashionedCathedral-city and you will see in a moment the mediæval relationsbetween Church and State. The Cathedral is the city. The first objectyou catch sight of as you approach is the spire tapering into the sky, or the huge towers holding possession of the centre of thelandscape--majestically beautiful--imposing by mere size. As you gonearer, the pinnacles are glittering in the tints of the sunset, whendown below among the streets and lanes twilight is darkening. And evennow, when the towns are thrice their ancient size, . .. The Cathedral isstill the governing force in the picture, the one object which possessesthe imagination, and refuses to be eclipsed. " These words are thedescription of Béziers as it is best and most impressively seen. Fromthe distance, the Cathedral and its ramparts rise in imposing mass, afine example of the strength, pride, and supremacy of the Church. As we approach, the Cathedral grows much less imposing, and its façadegives the impression of an unpleasant conglomeration of styles. It isnot a fortress church, yet it was evidently built for defence; it isGothic, yet the lightness and grace of that art are sacrificed to themassiveness and resistive strength, imperatively required by southernCathedrals in times of wars and bellicose heretics. The whole buildingseems a compromise between necessity and art. It is, however, a notable example of the Gothic of the South, and of themodifications which that style invariably underwent, through theartistic caprice of its builders, or the political fore-sight of theirpatrons, the Bishops. The façade of Saint-Nazaire of Béziers has a Gothic portal of good butnot notable proportions, and a large and beautiful rose-window. As if toprotect these weaker and decorative attempts, the builder flanked themwith two square towers, whose crenellated tops and solid, heavy wallscould serve as strongholds. Perhaps to reconcile the irreconcilable, crenellations joining the towers were placed over the rose-window, andat either end of the portal, a few inches of Gothic carving were cut inthe tower-wall. The result is frank incongruity. And the traveller leftwithout regret, to look at the apse. It cannot be denied that theclock-tower which comes into view is very square and thick; but in spiteof that it has a simple dignity, and as the apse itself is not florid, this proved to be the really pleasing detailed view of the Cathedral. The open square behind the church is tiny, and there one can best seethe curious grilled iron-work, which in the times of mediæval outbreaksprotected the fine windows of the choir and preserved them for futuregenerations of worshippers and admirers. It was after noon when thetraveller finished his investigations of Saint-Nazaire; and as thesouthern churches close between twelve and two, he took déjeuner at alittle café near-by and patiently waited for the hour of re-opening. Hadthere been nothing but the interior to explore, he could not have spenttwo hours in such contented waiting. But there was a Cloister, --and onthe stroke of two he and the sacristan met before the portal. [Illustration: "THE CLOCK-TOWER IS VERY SQUARE AND THICK. "--BÉZIERS. ] In describing their "monuments, " French guide-books confine themselvesto facts, and the adjectives "fine" and "remarkable"; they are almostalways strictly impersonal, and the traveller who uses them as acicerone, has a sense of unexpected discovery, a peculiar elation, infinding a monument of rare beauty; but he is never subjected to thatdisappointed irritation which comes when one stands before the"monument" and feels that one's expectations have been undulystimulated. The Cloister of Béziers is a "fine monument, " but as hewalked about it, the traveller felt no sense of elation. He found asmall Cloister, Gothic like the Cathedral, with clustered columns andlittle ornamentation. It was not very completely restored, and had asad, melancholy charm, like a solitary sprig of lavender in an oldpress, or a rose-leaf between the pages of a worn and forgotten Missal. In the Cloister-close, stands a Gothic fountain; but the days when itswaters dropped and tinkled in the stillness, when their sound mingledwith the murmured prayers and slow steps of the priests, --those days arelong forgotten. The quaint and pretty fountain is now dry anddust-covered; while about it trees and plants and weeds grow as theymay, and bits of the Cloister columns have fallen off, and niches arewithout their guarding Saints. [Illustration: "THE QUAINT AND PRETTY FOUNTAIN. "--BÉZIERS. ] By contrast, the Cathedral itself seems full of life. Its interior is anaisle-less Gothic room, whose fine height and emptiness of column ordetail give it an appearance of vast and well-conceived proportions. Except the really beautiful windows of the choir, which are a study inthemselves, there is very little in this interior to hold the mind; oneis lost in a pleasant sense of general symmetry. As the traveller wassitting in the nave, a few priests filed into the choir, and began, inquavering voices, to intone their prayers, and in the peacefulness ofthe church, in the trembling monotony of the weak, old voices, histhoughts wandered to the stirring history which had been lived about theCathedral, and within its very walls. For Béziers was and had alwaysbeen a hot-bed of heretics. Here in the IV century, long before thebuilding of the Cathedral, the Emperor Constantius II forced theunwilling Catholic Bishops of Gaul to join their heretical Aryanbrethren in Council; here the equally heretical Visigoths gave newstrength to the dissenters; and here, again, after centuries oforthodoxy which Clovis had imposed, a new centre of religious storm wasformed. It was about this period, the XII and XIV centuries, that theCathedral was built; and it is perhaps because of the strength of thoseFrench protestants against the Church of Rome, the Albigenses, that itsessentially Gothic style was so confused by military additions. At thebeginning of the troublous times of which these towers are reminders, Raymond-Roger of Trencavel, the gallant and romantic Lord ofCarcassonne, was also Viscount of Béziers; and contrary to the fanaticalenthusiasm of his day, was much disposed toward religious toleration;therefore in the early wars of Catholics and Protestants the city ofBéziers became the refuge not only for the terrified Faithful of thesurrounding country, but for many hunted Protestants. In the XIIIcentury, the zeal of the Catholic party, reinforced by the politicalinterests of its members, grew most hot and dangerous. Saint Dominic hadcome into the South; and in his fearful, fiery sermons, he not onlyprophesied that the Albigenses would swell the number of the damned atthe Day of Judgment, but also advocated that, living, they should knowthe hell of Inquisition. Partisans of the Catholic Faith were solemnlyconsecrated "Crusaders" by Pope Innocent III, and wore the cross inthese Wars of Extermination as they had worn it in the Holy Wars ofPalestine. In 1209 their army advanced against Béziers, and from outtheir Councils the leaders sent the Bishop of the city to admonish hisflock. All the inhabitants were summoned to meet him, and they gathered in thechoir and transepts of the Cathedral, --the only parts which werefinished at that time. One can imagine the anxious citizens crowdinginto the church, the coming of the angered prelate, whose state andfrown were well calculated to intimidate the wavering, and the tensesilence as he passed, with grave blessing, to the altar. In a few words, he advised them of their peril, spiritual and material; he told them heknew well who was true and who false to the Church, that he had, inwritten list, the very names of the heretics they seemed to harbour. Then he begged them to deliver those traitors into his hands, and theircity to the Legate of the Holy Father. In fewer words came their answer;"Venerable Father, all that are here are Christians, and we see amongstus only our brethren. " Such words were a refusal, a heinous sin, anddread must have been written on every face, as without a word or sign ofblessing, the outraged Bishop swept from the church and returned to thecamp of their enemy. The Crusaders' Councils were stormy; for some of the nobles wished tosave the Catholics, others cried out for the extermination of the wholerebellious place, and finally the choleric Legate, Armand-Amaury, Abbotof Cîteaux, could stand it no longer, and cried out fiercely, "Kill themall! God will know His own. " The words of their Legate were final, thearmy attacked the city, and--as Henri Martin finely writes, --"neitherfuneral tollings nor bell-ringings, nor Canons in all their priestlyrobes could avail, all were put to the sword; not one was saved, and itwas the saddest pity ever seen or heard. " The city was pillaged, wasfired, was devastated and burned "till no living thing remained. " "No living thing remained" to tell the awful tale, and yet with time andindustry, a new and forgetful Béziers has risen to all its old prestigeand many times its former size; the Cathedral alone was left, and itsmost memorable tale to our day is not that of the abiding peace of theFaith, but that of the terrible travesty of religion of thetwenty-second of July, hundreds of years ago. [Sidenote: Narbonne. ] "Narbonne is still mighty and healthful, if one is to judge from theactivities of the present day; is picturesque and pleasing, and far morecomfortably disposed than many cities with a more magnificently imposingsituation. " These words, which were running in the traveller's mind, grew more and more derisive, more and more ironical, as he walked aboutNarbonne. Not in all the South of France had he seen a city sodepressing. Her decline has been continuous for the long five hundredyears since the Roman dykes gave way and she was cut off from the sea. Agde, almost as old, displays the decline of a dignified, retired oldage; Saint-Gilles-du-Gard was as dirty, but not a whit as pretentious;Nîmes was majestically antique; Narbonne, simply sordid. It is sad to think that over two thousand years ago she was a secondMarseilles, that she was the first of Rome's transalpine colonies, andthat under Tiberius her schools rivalled those of the Capital of theworld. It is sadder to think that all the magnificence of Roman luxury, of sculptured marble--a Forum, Capitol, Temples, Baths, TriumphalArches, --stood where dreary rows of semi-modern houses now stand. It isalmost impossible to believe in the lost grandeur of this city, and thatit was veritably under the tutelage of so great and superb a god asMars. The eventful Christian period of Narbonne was very noted but not verylong. Her melancholy decay began as early as the XIV century. Of hergreat antiquity nothing is left but a few hacked and mutilated carvings;of her ambitious Mediævalism, nothing but an unfinished group ofecclesiastical buildings. Long gone is the lordly "Narbo" dedicated toMars, gone the city of the Latin poet, whose words repeated to-day inher streets are a bitter mockery, and gone the stronghold of mediævaltimes. There remains a rare phenomenon for cleanly France, --a dirtycity, whose older sections are reminiscent of unbeautiful old age, decrepit and unwashed; and whose newly projected boulevards aredistinguished by tawdry and pretentious youth. In the midst of this city, stands a group of mediæval churchlybuildings, the Palace of the prelate, his Cathedral, and an adjoiningCloister. They are all either neglected, unfinished, or re-built; butare of so noble a plan that the traveller feels a "divine wrath" thatthey should never have reached their full grandeur of completion, thatthis great architectural work should have been begun so near the closeof the city's prosperity, and that in spite of several efforts it hasnever been half completed. It is as if a fatality hung over the wholeplace, and as if all the greatness Narbonne had conceived waspredestined to destruction or incompletion. [Illustration: "THE DOOR OF THE CLOISTER. "--NARBONNE. ] Of the three structures, the least interesting is the former Palace ofthe Archbishops. This is now the Hôtel-de-Ville, and as all the body ofthe structure between the towers of the XII century was built in our dayby Viollet-le-Duc, very little of the old Palace can properly be said toexist. Besides its two principal towers, a smaller one, a gate, and achapel remain. Viollet-le-Duc has constructed the Hôtel-de-Ville afterthe perfectly appropriate style of the XIII century, but its stone is sonew and its atmosphere so modern and republican that the traveller leftit without regret and made his way up the dark, steep, badly-pavedalley-way which leads to the door of the Cloister. This Cloister, which separated the Palace from the Cathedral, is nowdreary and desolate and neglected. Like the Cathedral, it is Gothic, with sadly decaying traces of graceful ornament. The little plot ofenclosed ground, which should be planted in grass or with a few flowers, is a mere dirt court, tramped over by the few worshippers who enter theCathedral this way. Two or three trees grow as they will, gnarled orstraight. The sense of peaceful melancholy which the traveller had feltin the Cloister of Béziers is wanting here. This is a place of desertedsolitude; and with a sigh for the beauty that might have been, thetraveller crossed the enclosure and entered the church by thecloister-door. [Illustration: "THIS IS A PLACE OF DESERTED SOLITUDE. "--NARBONNE. ] Architecturally dissimilar, the fate of this Cathedral is not unlikethat of Beauvais. Each was destined to have a completed choir, and eachto remain without a nave. At Beauvais the addition of transepts addsvery materially to the beauty of the Cathedral. At Narbonne no transeptsexist. There is simply a choir, which makes a very singular dispositionof the church both religious and architectural. Entering the gates whichlead from the ambulatory to the choir, the traveller found thatBenediction had just begun. On his immediate right, before the altar allaglow with lights, were the officiating priests and the altar-boys; onhis left, in the choir, was the congregation in the Canons' stalls;and at the back, as at the end of a nave, rose the organ. The traveller walked about the ambulatory, and leaning against thefarthest wall, tried to view the church, only to be baffled. There wasno perspective. The ambulatory is very narrow and the choir-screen veryhigh. The impressions he formed were partly imaginative, partlyinductive; and the clearest one was that of sheer height, straight, superhuman height that is one of the unmatchable glories of FrenchGothic. Here the traveller thought again of Beauvais, and wished as hehad so often wished in the northern Cathedral and with something of thesame intensity, that this freedom and majesty of height might have beengloriously continued and completed in the nave. Such a church as hisimagination pictured would have been worthy of a place with the best ofnorthern Gothic. Now it is a suggestion, a beginning of greatness; andits chief glory lies in the simplicity and directness of its height. Clustered columns rise plainly to the pointed Gothic roof. There is somarked an absence of carving that it seems as if ornamentation wouldhave been weakening and trammelling. It is not bareness, but beautifulfirmness, which refreshes and uplifts the heart of man as the sight ofsome island mountain rising sheer from the sea. The exterior of the Cathedral, imposing from a distance, is rathercomplicated in its unfinished compromise of detail. In the XV century, two towers were built which flank the western end as towers usuallyflank a façade; and this gives the church a foreshortened effect. Ofreal façade there is none, and the front wall which protects the choiris plainly temporary. In front of this wall there are portions of theunfinished nave, stones and other building materials, a scaffolding, anda board fence; and the only pleasure the traveller could find in thisconfusion was the fancy that he had discovered the old-time appearanceof a Cathedral in the making. The apse is practically completed, and one has the curious sensationthat it is a building without portals. Having no façade, it has none ofthe great front entrances common to the Gothic style; neither has it theusual lateral door. The choir is entered by the temporary doors of thepseudo-façade; the ambulatory is entered through the Cloister, or apretty little Gothic door-way which if it were not the chief entrance ofthe church, would properly seem to have been built for the clergy ratherthan for the people who now use it. If these portals are strangelyunimportant, their insignificance does not detract materially from thestateliness of the apse, which is created by its great height--onehundred and thirty feet in the interior measurement--and the magnificentflying-buttresses. These flying-buttresses give to the exterior its most curious andbeautiful effect. They are a form of Gothic seldom attempted in theSouth, and exist here in a rather exceptional construction. Over thechapels which surround the apse rise a series of double-arched supports, the outer ones ending in little turrets with surmounting crenellations. On these supports, after a splendid outward sweep, rest the abutments ofthe flying arches. These have a fine sure grace and withal a lightnessthat relieves the heaviness imposed on the church by the towers and theimmense strength of the body of the apse. They are the chief as well asthe most salient glory of the exterior, and give to the Cathedral itspeculiar individuality. [Illustration: "THESE FLYING-BUTTRESSES GIVE TO THE EXTERIOR ITS MOSTCURIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL EFFECT. "--NARBONNE. ] Apart from its buttresses, Saint-Just has little decorative style. Itscrenellations and turrets are military and forceful, not ornate. For thechurch had its defensive as truly as its religious purpose, and formerlywas united on the North with the fortifications of the Palace, andcontributed to the protection of its prelates as well as to theirarch-episcopal prestige. In spite of the fostering care of the French government, the Palace, theCloister, and the Cathedral seem in the hands of strangers. Thetraveller who had longed to see them in their finished magnificencerealised the futility of this wish, but he turned away with another asvain, that he might have known them even in incompletion, when they werein the hands of the Church, when the Archbishop still ruled in hisPalace, when the Canons prayed in the Cloister, and the Cathedral wasstill a-building. [Sidenote: Perpignan. ] Perpignan, like Elne, is in Rousillon. The period of her most brilliantprosperity was that of the Majorcan dominion in the XII century. Latershe reverted to Aragon, and was still so fine a city that for twohundred years France coveted and sought her, until she finally yieldedto the greedy astuteness of Richelieu and became formally annexed tothe kingdom of Louis XIII. Perpignan is a gay little town, much affectedby the genius and indolence of the Spanish race. Morning is work-time, noon-tide is siesta, but afternoon and evening were made for pleasure;and every bright day, when the sun begins to cast shadows, people fillthe narrow, shady streets and walk along the promenade by the shallowriver, under the beautiful plane-trees. The pavements in front of thecafés are filled with little round tables, and here and there smallgroups of men idle cheerfully over tiny glasses of liqueur and cups ofcool, black coffee; perhaps they talk a little business, certainly theygossip a great deal. Noisy little teams filled with merry people rundown from the Promenade to the sea-shore; and after an hour's dip, almost in the shadow of the tall Pyrénées, the same merry people return, laughing, to a cooler Perpignan. In the evening, they seek the brightcafés and the waiters run busily to and fro among the crowded littletables; the narrow streets, imperfectly lighted, are full of movingshadows, and through the open church-doors, candles waver in the fitfuldraught, and quiet worshippers pass from altar to altar in penance or insupplication. All the old buildings of the city are of Spanish origin. The prison isthe brick, battlemented castle of a Majorcan Sancho, the Citadel is asold, and the Aragonese Bourse is divided between the town-hall and thecity's most popular café. The Cathedral of Saint-Jean, which faces a desolate, little square, wasalso begun in Majorcan days and under that Sancho who ruled in 1324. Atfirst it was merely a church; for Elne had always been the seat of theBishopric of Rousillon, and although the town had suffered from manywars and had long been declining, it was not shorn of its episcopalglory until there was sufficient political reason for the act. Thisarose in 1692, and was based on the old-time French and Spanish claimsto the same county to which these two cities belonged. [Illustration: "ALL OF THE OLD BUILDINGS OF THE CITY ARE OF SPANISHORIGIN. "--PERPIGNAN. ] Over a hundred years before Charles VIII had plenarily ceded toFerdinand and Isabella all power in Rousillon, even that shadowy feudalSuzerainty with which, in default of actual possession, many a formerFrench king had consoled himself and irritated a royal Spanish brother. Ferdinand and Isabella promptly visited their new possessions, and madesolemn entry into Perpignan. Unfortunately the Inquisition came in theirtrain, and the unbounded zeal of the Holy Office brought the Spanishrule which protected it into ever-increasing disfavour. In vain PhilipIII again bestowed on Perpignan the title of "faithful city, " which shehad first received from John of Aragon for her loyal resistance to LouisXI; in vain he ennobled several of her inhabitants and transferred toher, from Elne, the episcopal power. The city was ready for new andkinder masters than the Most Catholic Kings, and in 1642 the French werereceived as liberators. During all these years the Cathedral had grown very slowly. Commenced in1324, over a century elapsed before the choir was finished and thebuilding of the nave was not begun until a hundred years later. The HighAltar, a Porch, and the iron cage of the tower were added with equaldeliberation, and even to-day it is still unfinished. The most beautifulpart is the strongly buttressed apse; the poorest, the unfinishedfaçade, which has been very fitly described as "plain and mean. " Lookingdisconsolately at it from the deserted square, scarcely tempted to gonearer, the traveller was astounded at the thought that for severalcenturies this unsightly wall had stared on generations of worshipperswithout goading them into any frenzy of action, --either destructive orconstructive. His only comfort lay in the scaffolding which was buildingaround it, and which seemed to promise better things. [Illustration: "THE UNFINISHED FAÇADE. "--PERPIGNAN. ] The interior of the Cathedral is very large and lofty. It is withoutaisles and the chapels are discreetly hidden between the piers. Farabove one's head curves the ribbed Gothic vaulting, and all around isunbroken space that ends in darkness or the vague outline of an altar, dimly lighted by a flickering candle. The walls are painted in rich, sombre colours, and the light comes very gently through the good oldstained-glass windows. It is a southern church, dark, cool, and somewhatmysterious; quite foreign to the glare and heat of reality. People arelost in its solemn vastness, and even with many worshippers it is asolitude where most holy vigils could be kept, a mystic place where thesouthern imagination might well lose itself in such sacred ardours asSaint Theresa felt. The traveller liked to linger here; in the day-timewhen he peered vainly at the re-redos of Soler de Barcelona, atMass-time, when the lighted altar-candles glimmered over its fine oldmarble, but best of all he liked to come at night. Those summer nightsin Rousillon were hot and full of the murmur of voices. The Cathedralwas the only silent place; more full than ever of the mysterious--thefelt and the unseen. As one entered, the sanctuary light shone as a starout of a night of darkness; in a near-by chapel, a candle sputtereditself away, and a woman--whether old or young one could notsee--lighted a fresh taper. Sometimes a man knelt and told his beads, sometimes two women entered and separated for their differing needs andprayers. Sometimes one sat in meditation, or knelt, unmoving, for aspace of time; once a child brought a new candle to Saint Antony; alwayssome one came or some one went, until the hour of closing. Then, thebell was rung, the door shut by a hand but dimly seen, and the last fewwatchers went out--across the little square, down this street or that, until they were lost in the darkness of the summer's night. [Illustration: "THE STONY STREET OF THE HILLSIDE. "--CARCASSONNE. ] [Sidenote: Carcassonne. ] The train puffed into the station at Carcassonne, and the impatienttraveller, throwing his bags into an hotel omnibus, asked for theCathedral and walked eagerly on that he might the more quickly "see inline the city on the hill, " "the castle walls as grand as those ofBabylon, " and "gaze at last on Carcassonne. " His mind was full of thepoem, and faithfully following directions, he hurried through clean, narrow streets until he came at length, not upon a poetic vision ofbattlemented walls and towers, but on the most prosaic of boulevards andthe Church of Saint-Michel which has been the Cathedral since 1803, alarge, uncouth building with a big, unfinished tower. There is no façadeportal, and a small door-way in the north side leads into the greatvaulted hall, one of the most usual and commonplace forms of the Gothicinterior of the South. This room, which is painted, receives light froma beautiful rose-window at the West, and a series of small roses, likeminiatures of the greater one, are cut in the upper walls of the nave;and little chapels, characterised by the same heavy monotony which hangslike a pall over the whole Cathedral, are lost in the church's capaciousflanks. [Illustration: "THE ANCIENT CROSS. "--CARCASSONNE. ] Having lost much of his enthusiasm, the traveller asked for the old--hehad almost said the "real"--Cathedral, and with new directions, hestarted afresh. Leaving the well-built, agreeable, commonplace "Lowercity" of the plain, he came to the bridge, and there, sitting on itsparapet, near the ancient Cross, he feasted his longing eyes on thatperfect vision of Mediævalism. The high, arid, and almost isolated hillof the Cité stood before him, and at the top rose battlements andflanking towers in double range, bristling, war-like, and strong; yetbeautiful in their mass of uneven, peaked tower-roofs and crenellations. He climbed wearily up the stony street of the hillside, and as he passedthrough the open gate, he realised that Hunnewell had written truly whenhe said "Carcassonne is a romance of travel. " For he went into a townso quiet, into streets so still, so weed-grown, and lonely, and yet sowell built, that he felt as a "fairy prince" who has penetrated intosome enchanted castle, and it seemed as if the inhabitants were asleepin the upper rooms, behind those bowed windows, and as if, when themysterious word of disenchantment should be uttered, all would cometrooping forth, men-at-arms hurrying to clean their rusty swords, oldwomen trudging along to fill their dusty pitchers at the well, andyounger women staring from doors and windows to see the stranger withintheir streets. The Cadets de Gascogne knew the city before the evil spell of moderntimes was cast about it. They know and miss it now. And although theymay no longer wear the plumed hat and clanking sword of their ancestors, the spirit beneath their more conventional garb is as gay and daring asthat of Cadets more picturesque. They have conceived a plan as excitingas any old adventure, an idea which they present to the world, not asCyrano, their most famous member, was wont to convey his thoughts at theend of a sword, but none the less dexterously and delightfully. Thisplan, like the magic word of the traveller's fancy, is to make the oldCarcassonne live again, not as the traveller had timidly imagined, intime of peace, but in the stirring times of war and battle, and itsmagic word is "the siege of Carcassonne. " Truly it is but a matter ofbengal lights, blank cartridges, and fire-crackers, though for thematter of that, Cinderella's coach was but a pumpkin, yet the effect wasnone the less real. [Illustration: "OFTEN, TOO LITTLE TIME IS SPENT UPON THENAVE. "--CARCASSONNE. ] On the evening of "the siege, " a rare, great fête, the forces of theCadets with their lights and ammunition are in the "upper town", andlong before dark, their friends and every inhabitant of the country formiles around have gathered in the houses which face the Cité, on thebridges, and along the banks of the little Aude. As the sunlight fadesand the shadows creep along, a strange feeling of expectancy comes overeverybody, a hush, almost a dread of danger. The towers on the hill-toploom dark against the sky and the battlements bristle in the moonlight, no sound comes from the Cité, and it seems to lay in unconcernedsecurity. Memories of besieging armies which have vainly encamped inthis valley return to the traveller's mind, memories of the treacheriesof Simon de Montfort, and he wonders if any "crusading" sentinel everpaced where he now stands watching along the Aude, if any spy or eventhe terrible Simon himself had ever crept so near the walls toreconnoitre. Suddenly every one is startled by the sound of distantshots, which are repeated nearer the walls. Every one peers into thedarkness. There is no sign of life on wall or tower, the attacking forcemust still be climbing the hill, out of range of the stones and burningoil of the defenders. More shots are fired, and now there are answeringshots from the besieged; and so naturally does the din increase, thatone can follow, by listening, the progress of the attack and the slow, sure gain of the invader. Some of the illusion of the anxiety and mentaltension which war brings, steals over the watching crowd, and theybreathlessly await the outcome of the struggle. The attacking party isnow seen under the walls--now on them--they throw wads of burningcotton, which are at first extinguished. They still gain--they fire thewalls in several places; and the defenders, who can be seen in theflashes of light, run frantically to the danger spots; but they aregradually overcome, beaten back by the intensity of the heat. Flames nowburst forth from a tower; there is an explosion, and the fire curls andcreeps along the walls unchecked. Another explosion follows, anotherburst of flames which soar higher and higher. The men of the Cité seemstill more frantic and powerless. All the towers now stand out in boldrelief, --as if they were just about to crumble into the seething massbelow. Roofs within the walls are on fire, and finally a red tonguelicks the turret of the Cathedral. In a few seconds its walls arehideously aglow, and the people in the valley--although they know thetruth--groan aloud, so real is the illusion. The nave lines of theCathedral are silhouetted as it burns, the fires along the walls growingbrighter, spread gradually at first, --then rapidly, and the whole Citéis the prey of great, waving clouds of flame and smoke. Men and women, as if fascinated by this lurid and magnificent destruction, pressforward to get the last view of the Cathedral's lovely rose, or thepeaked roof of some tower which is dear to them. But slowly the deep redflames are growing paler, less strong, and less high. Then the glare, too, begins to die away; the fire turns to smoke and the light becomesgrey and misty. "It is all over, " some one whispers, and with backwardglances at the charred, smoldering hill-top, they turn silently towardshome. A few, sitting on the stone parapet of the bridge, remain to talk of theevening's magic, of the inspiration of the Cadets de Gascogne, and otherscenes which their memory suggests, of wars and rumours of other wars. And when at length they turn to go, they see the moonlight on theglimmering Aude, the peaceful lower city, and above, Carcassonne--theInvincible--rising from her ashes. [Illustration: "THE CHOIR IS OF THE XIV CENTURY. "--CARCASSONNE. ] [Illustration: "THE FAÇADE--STRAIGHT AND MASSIVE. "--CARCASSONNE. ] The Cathedral of the Cité is worthy of great protecting walls and thereare few churches whose destruction would have been so sad a blow to thearchitecture of the Midi. Saint-Nazaire is typical at once of theoriginality of the southern builders, of their idealism, and theirjoyous freedom from conventional thrall. The façade, straight, andmassive, has the frowning severity of an old donjon wall. Its towers aresolid masses of heavy stone; instead of spires, there are crenellations;instead of graceful flying-buttresses at the sides, there are solid, upright supports on the firm, plain side-walls. This is the true oldRomanesque. A few steps further, and the apse appears, as great acontrast to the body of the church as a bit of Mechlin lace to acoat-of-mail. A little tower with gargoyles, another with a fine-carvedturret, windows whose delicate traceries could be broken by a blow, andan upper balustrade which would have been as easily crushed as anegg-shell in the hands of the lusty Huguenots, --these are the ornamentsof its wall, as true XIV century Gothic as the nave is XII centuryRomanesque. It is sadly disappointing to find the Cloisters inuninteresting ruin, but the church within is so full of great beautythat all other things are unimportant. The windows glow in the gloryof their glass, and the tombs, especially those of the lower Chapelof the Bishop, are wonderfully carved. The first burial place of deMontfort, terrible persecutor of his Church's foes, lies near the HighAltar, and in the wall, there is a rude bas-relief representing hissiege of Toulouse. All these admirable details are puny in comparisonwith the interior which contains them. It is to be feared that often, too little time is spent upon the nave. Even in mid-day, lighted by thesouthern sun, its beautiful, severe lines are mellowed but little, andone turns too instinctively to the Gothic, the greater lightness beyond. Yet it is a nave of exceedingly fine, rugged strength, and to pass onlightly, to belittle it in comparison with its brighter choir, is towantonly miss in the great round columns, the heavy piers, and the darktunnel vaulting, the conception of generations of men who had everbefore their mind--and literally believed--"A mighty fortress is ourGod. " The choir is of the XIV century, a day when the "beauty ofholiness" seems to have been the Cathedral architect's ideal. Delicate, clustered columns from which Saints look down, long windows beautifullyveined, a glorious rose at each transept's end, and high vault archesspringing with a slender pointed grace, all these are of exquisiteproportions; and the brilliant stained-glass adds a softening warmth ofcolour, but not too great a glow, to the cold fragility of the shafts ofstone. Nothing in the Gothic art of the South, little of Gothicelsewhere, is more thoughtfully and lovingly wrought than this choir ofSaint-Nazaire, and few churches in the Romanesque form are more finelyconstructed than its nave. On the exterior, the Gothic choir and theRomanesque nave are so different in style it seems they must be, perforce, antagonistic, that the grace of the Gothic must makeRomanesque plainness appear dull, or that the noble simplicity of therounded arch must cause the Gothic arches, here so particularly tall andslender, to seem almost fragile and undignified. In reality, thisjuxtaposition of the styles has justified itself; and passing from oneto the other, the traveller is more impressed by the subtle analogiesthey suggest than by the differences of their architectural forms. Onweek-days, when the church is empty, they seem to prefigure the twoideals of the religion which they serve--the stern, self-conqueringasceticism of a Saint Dominic, and the exquisite, radiant visions whichSaint Cecelia saw when heavenly music was vouchsafed her. Or, if one hastime to fancy further, the nave is the epic of its great religion; thechoir, a song which is the expression of most delicate aspiration, mosttender worship. On Sunday, when to this beauty of the godly habitationis added all the beauty of worship, the music of the oldest organs inFrance, slow-moving priests in gorgeous vestments, sweet smellingincense, chants, and prayers of a most majestic ritual, one is temptedto read into these stones symbolical meanings, --as if the heavy nave, where the dim praying figures kneel, were typical of their life ofstruggle--and their glances altarward, where all is light and beauty, presaged their final coming into the presence and glory of God. [Illustration: PERSPECTIVE OF THE ROMANESQUE. --CARCASSONNE. ] Hunnewell has finely written, that "while the passions and the terrorsof a fierce, rude age made unendurable the pleasant land where we maytravel now so peacefully, . .. And while Religion, grown political, forgot the mercy of its Lord and ruled supreme, . .. An earnest faith andconsecrated genius were creating some of the noblest tributes man hasoffered to his Creator, " and it may be truly said that of these one ofthe noblest is the church begun in that most cruel age of Saint Dominicand de Montfort, in the very heart of the country they laid waste, inthe city which one conquered by ruse and the other tortured byinquisition, the old Cathedral of Saint-Nazaire in Carcassonne. [Sidenote: Castres. ] In the VII century Castres, which had been the site of a Roman camp, became that of a Benedictine Abbey; and around this foundation, as aboutso many others, a town grew through the Middle Ages, and came safely toprosperity and importance. Untrue to its early protectors and inopposition to the fervent orthodoxy of the neighbouring city of Albi, Castres became a Protestant stronghold, and its fortunes rose and fellwith the chances of religious wars. It was, perhaps, one of the mostintrepid and obstinate of all the centres of heresy, and the centuriesof struggle seem only to have strengthened the fierceness of its faith. In 1525, when the Duke de Rohan was absent and a royal army againsummoned it to submission and conversion, the Duchess had herselfcarried from a sick bed to the gate of the city which was threatened, and it is related that the inhabitants of all classes, men, women, andchildren, without distinction of sex or age, armed themselves and rushedvictoriously to her aid. Thirty-five years later, their children sackedchurches, destroyed altars and images, and drove out monks and nuns. Bellicose incidents make history a thrilling story, but they areaccompanied by such material destruction that they too often rob a cityof its greatest treasures, and leave it, as far as architecturalinterest is concerned, an arid waste. Such a place is Castres, prosperous, industrial, historically dramatic, but actually commonplace. Old houses, picturesque and mouldy, with irregular, overhanging eaves, lean along the banks of the little river as they are wont to line thebanks of every old stream of the Midi, and they are nearly all theremains of Castres' Mediævalism. For her streets are well-paved, trolleys pass to and fro, department stores are frequent, and that mostmodern of vehicles, the automobile, does not seem anachronistic. Nobuilding could be more in harmony with the city's atmosphere ofuninteresting prosperity than its Cathedral, and he who enters in searchof beauty and repose, is doomed to miserable disappointment. Confronted in the XIV century by a growing heresy, John XXII devised, among other less Christian methods of combat, that of the creations ofSees, whose power and dignity of rank should check the progress of theenemies of the Church; and in 1317, that year which saw the beginning ofso many of these new Sees, the old Benedictine Abbey of Castres, lyingin the very centre of Protestantism, was created a Bishopric. Thecentury, if unpropitious to Catholicism, was favourable to architecture, the Abbey was of ancient foundation, and from either of these facts, afine Cathedral might reasonably be hoped for, --a dim Abbey-church whoserounded arches are lost in the gloom of its vaulting, or a bit ofsouthern Gothic which the newly consecrated prelate might haveambitiously planned. But the Cathedral of Saint-Benoît is neither ofthese, for it was re-constructed in the XVII century, the XVII centuryin all its confusion of ideas, all its lack of taste, all its travestyof styles. There is the usual multitude of detail, the usualunworthiness. Portals which have no beauty, an expanse of unfinishedfaçade, dark, ugly walls whose bareness is not sufficiently hidden bythe surrounding houses, heavy buttresses, ridiculously topped off byglobes of stone, --such are the salient features of the exterior ofSaint-Benoît. The "spaciousness" of the interior has given room, if not for animpartial representation, at least for a reminder of all the styles ofarchitecture to which the XVII century was heir. There is theRenaissance conception of the antique in the ornamental columns; in therose-window, there is a tribute to the Gothic; the tradition of theSouth is maintained by a coat of colours--many, if subdued; and theground plan of nave and side-chapels might be called Romanesque. Although the vaulting is high and the room large, there is nosimplicity, no beauty, no artistic virtue in this interior. Opposite the church is the episcopal Palace which Mansart built, a largeconstruction that serves admirably as a City Hall. Behind it, along theriver, are the charming gardens designed by Le Nôtre, where Bishopswalked and meditated, looking upon their not too faithful city ofCastres. Upon this very ground was the ancient Abbey and close of theBenedictines; and as if in memory of these monkish predecessors, Bishopand builder of the XVII century left in an angle of the Palace the oldAbbey-tower. This is the treasure of Castres' past, a Romanesque belfrywith the pointed roofing of the campanile of Italy, heavy in comparisonwith their grace, and stout and strong. [Sidenote: Toulouse. ] Toulouse is one of the most charming cities of the South of France. Itis also one of the largest; but in spite of its size, it is neithernoisy nor stupidly conventional; it is, on the contrary, an idealprovincial "capital, " where everything, even the climate, corresponds toour preconceived and somewhat romantic ideal of the southern type. Whenthe wind blows from the desert it comes with fierce and sudden passion, the sun shines hot, and under the awnings of the open square, men fanthemselves lazily during a long lunch hour. Under this appearance ofsemi-tropical languor, there is the persistent energy of the greatsouthern peoples, an energy none the less real because it is broken bythe long siestas, the leisurely meal-times, and the day-time idling, which seem so shiftless and so strange to northern minds. This is theenergy, however, which has made Toulouse a rich, opulent city, --a citywith broad boulevards, open squares, and fine buildings, and a city ofthe gay Renaissance rather than of the stern Middle Ages. Yet forToulouse the Middle Ages were a dark time. What could be gotten by thesword was taken by the sword, and even the mind of man, in that grossage, was forced and controlled by the agony of his body. It is a timewhose most peaceful outward signs, the churches, have been preserved toToulouse, and the war-signs, towers, walls, and fortifications, dungeons, and the torture-irons of inquisition, are now--andwisely--hidden or destroyed. Of the fierce tragedies which were playedin Toulouse, even to the days of the great Revolution, few tracesremain, --the stern, orthodox figure of Simon de Montfort, and of CountRaymond, his too politic foe, and the anguish of the Crusaders' siege, the bent form of Jean Calas and the shrewd, keen face of Voltaire, whovindicated him from afar, these memories seem dimmed; and those whichlive are of light-hearted troubadours and gaily dressed ladies of thecity of the gay, insouciant Renaissance to whom an auto-da-fè was a galabetween the blithesome robing of the morning and the serenade in themoonlight. Fierce and steadfast, sentimentally languishing, dying for adifference of faith, or dying as violently to avenge the insult of afrown or a lifted eye-brow, such are the Languedocians whom Toulouseevokes, near to the Gascons and akin to them. Here is the Académie desJeux-Floreaux, the "College of Gay Wit" which was founded in the XIVcentury, and still distributes on the third of every May prizes of goldand silver flowers to poets, and writers of fine prose; and here aremany "hôtels" of the Renaissance, rich and beautiful homes of the oldToulousan nobility whose courts are all too silent. Here is the Hôtel duVieux-Raisin, the Maison de Pierre, and the Hôtel d'Assézat where Jeanned'Albret lived; and near-by is a statue of her son, the strongest, sanest, and most debonnaire of all the great South-men, Henry ofNavarre. Here in Toulouse is indeed material for a thousand fancies. [Illustration: "THE NAVE OF THE XIII CENTURY IS AN AISLE-LESS CHAMBER, LOW AND BROADLY ARCHED. "--TOULOUSE. ] And here the Cathedral-seeker, who had usually had the proud task offinding the finest building in every city he visited, was doomed todisappointment. In vain he tried to console himself with the fact thatToulouse had had two Cathedrals. Of one there was no trace; in theother, confusion; and he was met with the axiom, true in architectureas in other things, that two indifferent objects do not make one goodone. The "Dalbade, " formerly the place of worship of the Knights ofMalta, has a more elegant tower; the Church of the Jacobins a moreinteresting one; the portal of the old Chartreuse is more beautiful; theChurch of the Bull, more curious; and the Basilica of Saint-Sernin sointeresting and truly glorious that the Cathedral pales in colourlessinsignificance. Some cities of mediæval France possessed, at the same time, twoCathedrals, two bodies of Canons, and two Chapters under one and thesame Bishop. Such a city was Toulouse; and until the XII century, Saint-Jacques and Saint-Etienne were rival Cathedrals. Then, for somereason obscure to us, Saint-Jacques was degraded from its episcopal rankand remained a simple church until 1812 when it was destroyed. Thepresent Cathedral of Saint-Etienne is a combination of styles and aviolation of every sort of architectural unity, and realises a confusionwhich the most perverse imagination could scarcely have conceived. According to every convention of building, the Cathedral is not onlyartistically poor, but mathematically insupportable. The proportions areexecrable; and the interior, the finest part of the church, reminds oneirresistibly of a good puzzle badly put together. The weak tower is asufficient excuse for the absence of the other; from the tower the roofslopes sharply and unreasonably, and the rose-window is perched, withinappropriate jauntiness, to the left of the main portal. The wholestructure is not so much the vagary of an architect as the sport ofFate, the self-evident survival of two unfitting façades. Walkingthrough narrow streets, one comes upon the apse as upon another church, so different is its style. It is disproportionately higher than thefaçade; instead of being conglomerate, it is homogeneous; instead of asquat appearance, uninterestingly grotesque, it has the dignity ofheight and unity. And although it is too closely surrounded by housesand narrow streets, and although a view of the whole apse is entirelyprevented by the high wall of some churchly structure, it is the onlyworthy part of the exterior and, by comparison, even its rather timidflying-buttresses and insignificant stone traceries are impressive. [Illustration: "THE PRESENT CATHEDRAL IS A COMBINATION OFSTYLES. "--TOULOUSE. ] The nave of the early XIII century is an aisle-less chamber, low andbroadly arched. As the eye continues down its length, it is met by thesouth aisle of the choir, --opening directly into the centre of the nave. Except for this curiously bad juxtaposition, both are normallyconstructed, and each is of so differing a phase of Gothic that theygive the effect of two adjoining churches. The choir was begun in thelate XII century, on a new axis, and was evidently the commencement ofan entire and improved re-construction. In spite of the poorly plannedrestoration in the XVII century, the worthy conception of this choir isstill realised. It is severe, lofty Gothic, majestic by its ownintrinsic virtue, and doubly so in comparison with the uncouthpuzzle-box effect of the whole. Its unity came upon the traveller with ashock of surprise, relieving and beautiful, and after he had walkedabout its high, narrow aisles and refreshed his disappointed vision, heleft the Cathedral quickly--looking neither to the right nor to theleft, without a trace of the temptation of Lot's wife, to "glancebackward. " [Sidenote: Montauban. ] Although Montauban was founded on the site of a Roman station, the MonsAlbanus, it is really a city of the late Middle Ages, re-created, as itwere, by Alphonse I. , Count of Toulouse in 1144. And it was even agreater hot-bed of heretics than Béziers. Incited first by hatred ofthe neighbouring monks of Le Moustier, and then by the bitter agonies ofthe Inquisition, it became fervently Albigensian, and as ferventlyHuguenot; and even now it has many Protestant inhabitants and aProtestant Faculty teaching Theology. The Montauban of the present day is busy and prosperous, very prettilysituated on the turbid little Tarn. In spite of her constant loyalty tothe Huguenot cause, perhaps partly because of it, she has had threesuccessive Cathedrals; Saint-Martin, burned in 1562; the Pro-cathedralof Saint-Jacques; and, finally, Notre-Dame, the present episcopalchurch, a heavy structure in the Italian style of the XVIII century. Large and light and bare, the nudeness of the interior is uncouth, andthe stiff exterior, decorated with statues, impresses one as pleasantlyas clothes upon crossed bean-poles. It is artificial and mannered; thelast of the City Cathedrals of Languedoc and the least. If the notoriousvices of the XVIII century were as bad as its style of ecclesiasticalarchitecture, they must have been indeed monstrous. END OF VOLUME I.