^iy ,^ ^ 
 
 Î1 
 
 Jll 
 
 
 CO < 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 1
 
 
 n5^ 
 
 
 \ojl]V3JO 
 
 ^WEUNIVERS/^ 
 
 7i]ONvsor 
 
 
 .^OFCAIIFO^ 
 
 ^<?Ayv{iaiii'> 
 
 ,^WEUNIVER% 
 <: 
 
 ^ 
 
 $3 O 
 
 ^mmm^ %ii3/ 
 
 lOSANCElfj: 
 
 ëi «if"' 
 
 ,^ -^t 
 
 AOSANCElfx, 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 -^M-UCKAhYL 
 
 -'r^ 
 
 1 \r 
 
 z^ 
 
 
 e-> 
 
 =» 
 
 ?-, 
 
 
 1 
 
 %. 
 
 
 
 '% 
 O 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 3UJ^TbUl 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^. 
 
 é i 
 
 v=^ 
 
 "Aavnaii^ 
 
 :5
 
 NATIONAL ILLUSTRATED LIBEAllY.
 
 HCKNK IN A SOrrill.IlN ( AltAUlT 
 
 • Wr niTT In n Inntr «Inrk nniin, Jnclln nml I «cnlpd In n clilmnry romor, nnil «t n fi-w «K-p» from 
 t. wrnoTfn.lir the IIkIiI "f n »nnll rnnilli-, th<-«' rmir ini-n, drinking, nnil tiilklnx ol iui*»Mlnntl<in 
 .|t nih, nn<l hl'iol, Willi a «nillr iitK>n llii'lr lip*.' -/'"i/f \Tl.
 
 PICTURES OF TRAVEL 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SOUTH OF FKANCE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 COSTIMES or THE BOURBONNAIS 
 
 (tf.nth tiiovsand. 
 
 LONDON: 
 OFFICES OF THE NATIONAL ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY, 
 
 198 & 227 STRAND.
 
 PICTURES OF TRAVEL 
 
 SOUTH OF FRANCE, 
 
 ALEXANDER DUMAS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH FIFTY ENGRAVINGS ON WO JE. 
 
 LONDOÎs"- 
 OFFICES OF THE NATIONAL ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY, 
 
 198 & 227 STRAND. 
 
 146017
 
 / 
 
 londdn: 
 
 RCXKT TIIBTELIT, rHl>TBn IND ENaatVCR 
 OOCOH 8UUIBS, FLEET STHLEV.
 
 
 PEEFACE, 
 
 M. Alexandre Dumas has hitherto been chiefly kuown to the 
 reading public of EngUiud as a novelist, but in his own country, 
 he is read and admired in four distinct departments of literature. 
 Considered as an historian, in which character he has several 
 times appeared, he has not always succeeded in divesting him- 
 self of the peculiarities of the romancist. As a novel -«Titer, he 
 takes the highest rank ; and in his dramas, whether tragedies, 
 comedies, melodramas, farces, or spectacles, he is not less for- 
 tunate than in his novels ; while his success in these two 
 dej)artmcnts has not been greater than that Avhich he has more 
 recently achieved as an author of books of travels, or " Impres- 
 sions de Voi/ac/e.^' 
 
 M. Dumas has published the " impressions " produced by 
 his travels through various countries. Sometimes these 
 must have been produced second-hand, if we are to believe 
 certain persons, very uncharitable, who deny that the author 
 ever visited the countries the peculiarities of which he has 
 described. 
 
 It would have been, however, a work of too much — in foct, of 
 needless — daring, for an author, resident in Paris, to have AATitten
 
 nu TREFACE. 
 
 about places in his immédiate vicinity without having previously 
 visited them. In the case of the " South of France," there can 
 be no doubt, whatever the ill-natiu-ed may say, that M. Dumas 
 did not travel through books alone, but that he has only 
 described what he actually saw. 
 
 He has been accused of presuming upon the ignorance of his 
 readers, when writing of scenes of which they knew nothing ; 
 but in this instance he has told them of places and objects 
 with which many of thorn have been familiar during their lives, 
 and yet with every sentence he has told them something of 
 which they have, doubtless, been but partially informed, or 
 entirely ignorant. 
 
 M. Dumas, in the following pages, alludes to those tourists 
 who travel a thousand miles to view a wonder, while they have 
 never observed a still greater wonder at tlu-ir own doors. In 
 fact, the work may be considered as, in some respects, a satire 
 on this class of easy and comfortable persons. At all events, 
 the writer proves, in a manner the most satisfactory, that useful 
 travelling, like real charity, might begin at home.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Caravan, 
 
 PAOE 
 
 Objects of the Tour— The Company— History of " My lord "—Anecdote of the Cap- 
 ture of the Tuileries— Mylord and the Bear— The Aunt, the Nephew, Mylord, 
 and " the Doctor " — The Departure 1-9 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Fontaines LEAir. 
 Points of Historical Interest^in Fonta.ineblfiiyi — Charles V., Francis I., and the 
 Duchess d'Etampes^Queen Christina of Sweden — The Sealed Packet — Monal- 
 deschi accused of Treachery by the Queen — Sentenced to be put to Death — His 
 Execution — Letter of Queen Christina to Cardinal Mazarin .... 10-20 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 The Twentieth op ApRit. 
 Napoleon at Fontainebleau — Orders its entire Repair — Imprisonment of Pius \1I, 
 there — Napoleon's Return to Fontainebleau in 1814 — His Abdication — His At- 
 tempt to Poison himself— His Farewell to ihc Old Guard — The Departure . 21-28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Doctor M . 
 
 Cosne — Its Manufactory— A Tragedy— Departure for La Cliarité .... 29-37 
 
 CH.1PTER V. 
 Chinese CcRiosmES. 
 M. Grasset— His Museum— Tlie Sea-captain's Trowsers — Never»— Moulins — The 
 
 Tomb of Henri dc Montmorency :.:.. 38-43
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BoXmBON-L'AuCUAMBAULT. 
 
 Sauvigny — Its Church and Curate — The Castle of Bourbon-r.\jchambauU— Ma- 
 dame de Montcspan — ^The Hot Springs on the Place des Capucines — ^The 
 Quiqucngrogne — Charles, Duke of Bourbon — The Lady-chapcl — The Mayor's 
 Secretary and the Crooked Weathcrcock-rThe Priory of St. Mcnous. — The 
 Legend of Diairc, the Architect 
 
 44-6? 
 
 ciL\rTEii ^^I. 
 
 The Ko!iians is Gaul. 
 The Castle of James II. of Chabannes — ^Lyons — Origin and Extension of the Ro- 
 man Power in Gaul — The Marriage of the Daughter of King Niinn — Lucii 
 Dunum C4-71 
 
 CILVPTEU MIL 
 Cinq-Maks and De Tuou. 
 The Church of .\inay— The Cathedral of .St. John— The Hotel de Ville— The E.\e- 
 
 cution of Cinq-Mars and De Thou . 72-8i 
 
 CIIAPTKll IX. 
 MouKic Lyons. 
 The Best Approach to Lyons — Trade the Dninity of the Town — Commercial lie- 
 volts — Madame Marceline Valmore ...*.. 
 
 86-90 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Vu:.NNE, THE Beautiful — Vikn.ne, tub Holy — Vienne, the Patriotic. 
 Roman and Gothic Memorials— Origin and Situation of Vienne— Its History — 
 The Museum — Pichat — The Ancient Remuins — The Cathedral of St. Mnii- 
 ricc — The Cenotaph of Septimus Sevcrus 91-101 
 
 CII.M'TKU XI. 
 St. Pkuay. 
 Tain— Tlic Hermitage— Tauroholic Altar — The llutlle between Tabiusand Ditlius 
 
 — Tournon— The ViUago Public-IIoui-o 102-110 
 
 CIIAI'TKR Xll. 
 Valknck, 
 Bonaparte nt Valence- Madenioinelle Clrc'-goire— The Golden Hull— I'itiH VI. — 
 nu Knrly Career— Hlii death at Valence — Work» of Art— llonapario's In- 
 t4-ndi-<l PureluiKo of a I-'arm 111-123
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Orange. 
 
 FAoa 
 fhe Pont St. Esprit— The Hermitage of St. Paneras— Moraas— M. Nogent— The 
 
 Antiquities— Triumphal Arch at Orange— The Antiquary— The Theatre- 
 Leave Orange 124-135 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RoaUEMAUllE. 
 
 Carthage and Rome met for the Death-stru?gle — God employs human means in 
 Government of the World — Harmibal, the Sworn Enemy of Home — He takes 
 the Field- Crosses the Rhone— The Passage of the Elephants . . . 13G-141 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Goou-natured Gendarmes. 
 The Mistral— Losing the Road — Passports Demanded — Trick on the Gendarmes 
 
 — Ai-rival at Avignon— The Porter and Wine Merchant .... 142-14ti 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Room Number Three. 
 The Palais Royal — ^Marshal Brune — Uncomfortable Night in Number Three — 
 The Papal Château — Pierre Valdois and the Valdenses— Driven out of Avig- 
 non — Spread of the Heresy, and Crusade of Simon de Montfort — Siege and 
 Capture of Avignon by Louis VHI. — Clement VI. Purchases the Lordship of 
 Avignon — Charles V. drives him out — ^The Black and White Penitents — Their 
 Hatred of each other transmitted to Modern Times — Pointer, the Avignon 
 Murderer 147-15!) 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 Marshal Brune. 
 The Marshal arrives at Avignon — M. Moulins advises his Immediate Departure 
 — Captured by the Mob, and carried back to the Hotel — Varioxis Attempts to 
 save him — The Mob breaks into the Marshal's Room— His Murder — His 
 Corpse thrown into the Rhone — ^Washed Ashore and interred — The Fate of 
 the Assassins -.........•.• 16l'-lG4 
 
 CH.\PTER XVllI. 
 
 The Fountain of Vaucluse. 
 Did Laura exist?— The Hotel-keeper and Ex-cook— Description of the Fountain 
 
 — Vemet, the Porter — M.Moulin — His Reminiscence of General Dumas . 165-168
 
 Xii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The BiuDGE ovkr the Gard. 
 
 rioi 
 Villencnrc — Its Gothic Jlonumcnts— Tomb of Innocent YI. —Ponf TagHoni—The 
 
 Pont du Gard — Built by Aprinpa — Rendered unserviceable during the Inva- 
 
 6ion of the Barbarians — Road for Foot-passengers and Carriages built against 
 
 It In 1747 1G9-173 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Reboui,. 
 " Reboui, Poet and Baker "—Reboul's Sajictum— WTiat made him n Poet?— The 
 
 Arena— Its Appearance by Night— Its Description and History . . . 174-181 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AlQUESMORTES. 
 
 Reboul's Love for Aigucsmortcs — Immense Marsh — The Custom-house Officer — 
 Origin of Aigucsmortcs— Its History — Privileges bestowed upon it by Louis 
 IX. — First Crusade of St. Louis- His Capture and Release — His Death — Pre- 
 sent Condition of Aigrucsmortcs — The Mayor — Discovery of the Hull of a 
 Galley belonsring to St. Louis — The Shoresof the Mediterranean — TheGravo 
 Louis — The Sea Wolf — The Bouille-abaissc — View from the Lighthouse — 
 Departure from Aigucsmortcs 182-197 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Brandiso the Bvix. 
 Canal of Beaucaire— St. Gilles— Its Church— Pleasure of Travelling on Foot — 
 Nismcfl — Preparations for the Festival of the " Bull branding" — Arrival of 
 the Bull» by Night— The Magnc Tower — Safe) y seated in the Arena— Adven- 
 ture of Mylord— Fierce Conflict with the First Bull — Different Affair with 
 the Second— The Third Bull and Mylord -Trestaillon— The Maison Carr(?e . 108-210 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 La Tahasqde. 
 Bcaueairc— Its Annual Fair-It-» old Castle— Tarasron—Cliurch of St. Martha— 
 Legend of St. Martha — The "Tarasque"— Kdics in Church of St. Martha— 
 LcaTc for Arien 311-21') 
 
 CHAI'TKU XXIV. 
 Ani.EH. 
 Ut Roman Monumentu -IIh Ilintory— Conslnntine's Fondnes" for Aries— Clinrles 
 the Bald rnlne» it Into a Kingdom— Somellmrs a Urpulillc,iiometimeKaC<)m-
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PACE 
 
 inonwcalth, sometimes a Kingdom — Placedcs Eonhommes — The Amphi- 
 theatre— Eliscamp Promenade— Tlie Museum— The Sheep Fair — The Ales- 
 Eiennes — Decline of Aries — " Ai'les u Tomb " 216-224 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Les Baux. 
 Eecommendation to Visit Le Baux — Maussane — Cause of the Decay of Les Baux 
 —Its Deserted Appearance — The Cemetery- The Church— Scene at the Foot 
 of tlie Altar— The Battle gained by Marius— Desire to Carry away a Memo- 
 rial — The Worm-eaten Figure of a Saint — Superstitious Fears — Ruins of the 
 Abbey of Mont Majour 225-231 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Crau and Camargue. 
 Two Koutes from Aries to Marseilles — Pantomime of the Mad Bull — Village of 
 
 Santés Maries — Provençal Legend — Discovery of Relics by King René — The ^^ 
 
 Relics a Fortune to the Village — The Sailor and the Curé — The Dragon of 
 Rhodes — Dieudonné de Gozon, a Knight of Camargue, determines to De- 
 stroy it— Sees the Monster, and takes a Portrait of it — Makes an Imitation 
 of it, upon which he exercises his Dogs and Horse — Having thoroughly 
 trained them, Attacks and Destroys the Monster— The Knight raised to the 
 Dignity of Grand Master of the Order — Derivation of the name Crau — Its 
 Hurricanes — The Town of Bouc — The Innkeeper — Sole Existence of the 
 Town found in an Edict of Napoleon 232-243 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 TnK Mauiigao. 
 Proposal to go Shooting Macreuses — Arrival at Martigucs — Its Appeearance — 
 Who is a Martigao — Gerard i''enque, tlie Grocer, Saint of Martigues, and 
 Founder of the Order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem— The Chemise 
 of the Virgin— The Lake de Berry— The Plaji of the Battle— The Rocks of the 
 ThreeBrothers— Particulars of the Seagull Hunt 244-252 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 Ancient Marseilles. 
 Méi7 — The Residence of Milo— Origin of the Dispute between him and Clodius 
 — Rencontre of Milo and Clodius— Murder of Clodius— Trial of MUo — Sen- 
 tenced to Banishment, and arrives in Marseilles— The Porte Juliette 2J3-2J9
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Gothic Marseilles. 
 The Belfry Arcouls— Old Abbey of St. Victor— The good Black Virgin— The Tower 
 of St. Paul — Siege of Marseilles by the Constable Bourbon — "The Burghers 
 hrinring the Keys of their Town " — The famous Culverin— The Assault — 
 The Bourbon repulsed, and retreats— The Hotel de Ville — The Assassin Li- 
 bertat — Assassination of Laplace — Attempt to murder D'Epcmon — Cassaulx 
 holds out alone in Marticillcs — Attempts to murder him — Libertat's Plot— Its 
 Execution and Success — Rewards heaped upon him — Louis XIV. deposes the 
 Consuls elected by the People, and names others himself — Popular Tumults 
 in consequence — Louis XFV. determines to visit Marseilles in person — His 
 Entry into Aix by the Gate of the Augustins — Etienne de Pugct, Bishop of 
 Marseilles sent to the King to Disarm his Anger — His Disgfuiso, and the 
 Ingenious Exposure of it — Duke de Mcrcœur arrives at Marseilles with 
 Ten Thousand Men — His Dismissal of the Consuls — The King's Entry into 
 Marseilles— Erection of a Bastide for Louis XIV. at Marseilles, and its In- 
 scription 2GO-275 
 
 CHAPTKR XXX. 
 The Puado. 
 The Harbour of JIarsoille», where the Bodies of the Mamelukes were tlirown in 
 1815— The Museum and Picture Galleries— The Place Royale-The Giraffe 
 and Mount Redon — A Sail — A Fùihing Excursion by Torch-light . , . 27G-2A5 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 fiiK MaiîiO.s Pheniciknnk. 
 
 The ftlaison Phénicienne — Twelfth of September, li24 — Marseilles Prsiegcd by 
 the Comtlable Bourbon— Anecdote» coonected with it — Thirty-ninth Day of 
 the Siege — A Breach in the Wall— The Town Saved by an Army of Women. 286-301
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Scene in a Southern Cabaret . : Frontispiece. 
 
 Costumes of the Hourbonnais ;... Title. 
 
 Aunt EstcUa and her Nephew j 
 
 Travelling Carriage ;.. 1 
 
 Portrait of Mylord 3 
 
 Encounter between Myloici and Carpolin 6 
 
 Alexander Dumas ;... 9 
 
 The Palace of Fontainebleau 10 
 
 Queen Christina i....lO 
 
 The Adieu at Fontainebleau .,.,.21 
 
 Pius VII ,- : . 21 
 
 French Gamekeeper ; 29 
 
 La Charité 37 
 
 The New Pair of Trowsers 38 
 
 Tomb of Montmorency 38 
 
 The Gate of Croux 43 
 
 Castle of Bourbon-l'archambault .....44 
 
 Church of Sauvisny 44 
 
 Madame de Montcspan 49 
 
 Charles Duke of Bourbon 53 
 
 The Quiquengrogne ..58 
 
 Tomb of St. Mcnoux 61 
 
 Castle of Chabanncs g4 
 
 James, Duke of Chabannes 64 
 
 General View of Lyons ,, 72 
 
 Modern Lyons .,..,.,86 
 
 Peasants Dancing .,,,.86 
 
 View of Vienne pi
 
 XVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 The Cathedral of St. Maurice 9s 
 
 Cenotaph of Septimus Scvcrus \w 
 
 Taurobolic A.tar at Tain 102 
 
 Mew of Valence Ill 
 
 MademoiseUe Grégoire , . . Ill 
 
 Castle of Momas 1J4 
 
 Triumphal Arch at Orange 130 
 
 Avigrnon 14'2 
 
 The Palace of the Popes, Avignon Hi 
 
 Shepherd and Dog 1G4 
 
 Fountain of Vaucluse .... 16J 
 
 The Pont du Gard . . 169 
 
 Amphitheatre at Nismes 174 
 
 The Magne Tower, Nismes .198 
 
 Briiige of Beaucaire i!l'9 
 
 Castle of larascon 210 
 
 Amphitheatre at .\rlcs 2i;> 
 
 MontMajour 21(i 
 
 Shooting the Macriusc 232 
 
 Marseilles 2ïG
 
 r^>"» «.3b» 
 
 ESTrt.I-\ ANO Iir.R NRri 
 
 PICTURES OF TRAYEL IN THE SOUTH OF FIIANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CARAVAN. 
 
 E left Paris on the loth of Octo- 
 ber, 18—, with the intention of 
 vi.siting the South of France, Cor- 
 sica, Italy, Calabria, and Sicily. 
 
 The journey whicli Ave were 
 about to undertake was neither an 
 excursion of men of the world, 
 nor an expedition of saranfs, but a 
 pilgrimage of artists. "We had no 
 notion of tearing along the ronds
 
 ■é 
 
 2 TUE SOUTH oJ FRANCE. 
 
 in our post-cliaisc, nor of burying ourselves in libraries, but meant 
 to go wherever a picturesque scene, an historical reminiscence, or a 
 popular tradition might atti-act us. Consequently we commenced om* 
 travels without any fixed route, trusting to duincc and good fortune 
 to conduct us wherever there should be anything worth notice, and 
 troubling ourselves very little about the harvests already reaped by 
 our predecessors. For we knew that every ear of God's corn could 
 not be collected into the garner of man, and that no land can be 
 so thoroughly gathered as to leave not a single sheaf for history, 
 poetry, or imagination to glean. 
 
 The caravan was composed of Godcfroy Jadin, Avhose paintings 
 in the two previous exhibitions liad just placed him among the first 
 of our landscape painters; Amaurj- Duval, whom we wei-e to join at 
 Florence, where he was studying the old masters, and completing that 
 education in the great school of Raphael which he had commenced 
 in the studio of M. Ingres ; myself, who was the director of the party, 
 and " Mylord," who was its attendant. 
 
 As the three first persons whom I have named in the list of tra- 
 vellers arc already more or less known to the public by their works, I 
 nhall say no more about their qualifications, physically or morally ; 
 but I must beg permission to return to the last of all, who, in the 
 course of this narrative, will i)lay too important a part for me to 
 neglect introducing liim from tlic very first pages to all my readers, 
 by whom he is, I believe, entirely unknown. 
 
 Mylord was born in London in the year l.S'2S, at the residence of 
 
 Lord Arthur G , in the Kegent's Park. His father was a terrier, 
 
 his mother a bull-dog, both of the purest and most ancient descent- 
 so that tlie son united in himself the characteristic (jualities of each 
 race. That is to say, in a jjliysical point of view, his head was as 
 large as all the rest of his body to;;etlur, and was adorned with 
 lirgc eyes, wliich became the colour of blood at tlie least excitement; 
 and a nose half divided, so as to exhibit a jjortion of the tijjper jaw of 
 a mouth wliich opened to the very cars, and closed like a vice. 
 Morally, he possessed a spirit of coml)ativeness, which, when roused, 
 would exert itself indilien iitly against every species of animal or 
 thing, from the rat to the bull — from the fusee which (lies from tho 
 firework, to the lava which dart» from the volcano. 
 
 Ix)rd .VrthurG • was a great bet ling nmn ; and often the father 
 
 and motljer of .Mylord liad been the nu-ans of his gaining con- 
 Hidorul)le suins, tlie first in lighting with animals of his own species, 
 the second in Htraii;,'ling a certain nunil)er of rats during a givuu 
 
 time. The constant dream of Lord Arthur G had long been 
 
 to unite the qualitiea of liis two dog in a single one, und several
 
 THE. CAIUVAX. 3 
 
 fruitless attempts had been already made -when ^Tylord came into the 
 world, lie was, in consequence, called "Hope;" and at a later period 
 we will mention the circumstances to whic'.i the change in his name 
 was owing. 
 
 Whether from patronymic influence, or from natural disposition, 
 
 the young pupil of Lord Arthur G soon turned out more 
 
 favom-ably, even, than he had promised ; in four months, for want 
 of other champions, he would seize delightfully on his father and 
 mother, and when six months old he strangled eight rats in thirty 
 
 
 
 •^.^"^ 
 
 
 A- 
 
 rOKTilAlT OF "MYLOnn." 
 
 seconds. Those qualities, natural and acquired, became develo;K'd, 
 as may be readily imagined, with years ; so much so, that at the age 
 of two, young Hope, ahhough only at the commencement of his 
 career, had already a reputation which equalled the gTcatest, oldest, 
 and most noble in London. "We need hardly say that we are now 
 only sj^jcaking of the canine aristocracy. 
 
 Hope was at the height of his glory when Adolphe B , the son 
 
 of one of our richest bankers went to pass some time in London, having, 
 amongst other letters of recommendation, one which was addi'essed 
 
 10 Lord Arthur G . The Revolution of July had just broken 
 
 out, and all Europe was forming conjectures thereupon. It was 
 not at that time considered bad taste to avow that one had taken 
 part in it ; so that when asked some questions about the proceedings 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE SOrril OF FRANCE. 
 
 of the 29th of July, Adolphe at once related a few particulars cou- 
 ccniing the captiu-e of the Tuileries, at vhicli he had assisted, 
 Amongst others, he mentioned a eui-ious faet, the authentieity of 
 ■which we can guai-aiitee. 
 
 The people spreading over the palace had penetrated as far as the 
 Salle des Maréchaux, that ir.agniticent museum of our military glory. 
 However, amongst all tliis array of great names there were some, it 
 must be confessed, which had ceased to enjoy the public favour, and 
 ■which, in lieu of it, only possessed the power of exasperating the 
 people to the highest pitch. One of these was the Count de Bourmont, 
 who had not been pardoned for Waterloo in consideration of Algiers ; 
 and the Duke of Kagusa, whose recent fidelity to Charles X. was far 
 from causing his ingratitude towards Napoleon to be forgotten. Now 
 the names of these two generals were Ibund in the Salle des Maré- 
 chaux, the first on an empty frame, for there had not yet been suffi- 
 cient time to fill it with anything but a piece of red maroon; the 
 second beneath a magnificent portrait painted by Gerard, and repre- 
 senting the officer in full unifoi ra. 
 
 The people on passing before the empty frame and reading the 
 name of the Count de Bourmont, tlu-ew themselves upon the red 
 maroon as the bull attacks the scarlet cloak of the matador, tore it in 
 pieces, and trampled it under foot. Scarcely had justice been done 
 in this instance, when cries of anger were heard from another quar- 
 ter, caused by the portrait of the Didic of Jlagusa. At the same time 
 several bullets were fired upon the picture, of which tinee struck the 
 head and two the breast; this was as many as Marshal Nej- had 
 received. A second discharge was about to follow when a man, 
 sprang towards the frame, drew it towards him, eut the canvass with 
 Ills knife, thrust the point of a pike through it, and, raising it above 
 every one's head, made it the banner of tlie i)arty, of which ho ap- 
 peared to be the leader. 
 
 Imet this man and offered him all I had about me (fifty or sixty 
 francs, pcrha])s) for this rcmiumt of a picture, to which I did not 
 tliink he could attach much artistic imiuirtance. He, however, re- 
 fused the oHer. Adolplie, wlio met with iiim alter myself, succeeded 
 belter: lu; offered his gun, wliicli the man at once accej)ted. Adolphe, 
 now the ])()ssessor of this strange troj)liy, ran home with it to jjlace it 
 ill KafVty, and returned to assist in that reniarkalde drama which 
 lasted three days, and gave birth, at every instant, to episodes of such 
 an astonishing naturt' that any one who was not present can form no 
 idea of them. 
 
 I^ird C; was a great amateur, not only of dogs and horses, 
 
 l)ut of curiosities of every kind. He had Mary Stuart's Bible, Crom-
 
 THE CArAVAN. I, 
 
 well's pistols, Charles I.'s hat, Joan Bart's pipe, Voltaire's cane, 'J"ip- 
 ])Oo Saib's sahrc, and Napoleon's ])en. He t'ult that a reminiscence 
 of the ilevolution of July was wanting;; to his historical collection, and 
 at once oft'ered to f^ive Adoli)he whatever he liked in exchange for his 
 souvenir of the 2i)th July, l«oO. 
 
 Adolphe had shown the portrait to all his friends and acquaint- 
 ances, and now knew no one else to exhibit to. Besides, it began to 
 be understood tliat such relies niiglit one day compronuse the faithful 
 Avho possessed them. Moi'covcr and above all, he had had this 'paint- 
 ing a whole year, and that is a period of possession quite long enough 
 to disengage the heart of a Frenchman from far more precious objectn. 
 He was acquainted with the brilliant talents of Lord Arthur's dog 
 from having seen tiiem in action, and accordingly promised to forward 
 the desired portrait toEngîa,nd, if he might be permitted to take Hope 
 back with him to France. The bargain was made, and a fortnight 
 afterwards the paintintpvas in London, and Hope was going through 
 his exercises in Paris under the pseudonyme of ^lylord, which 
 Adolphe had thought ht to give him, in the first place out of respect 
 to his former master, and secondly from a feeling of propriety, of 
 which those of our readers who are familiar with one of the most 
 honoured names of the moneyed aristocracy of our capital will not 
 require an explanation. 
 
 Mylord had soon acquired a reputation in his adopted country, 
 quite equal, if not superior, to that which he had left in the land of 
 his birth. The particular points which his new master cultivated in 
 him were, above all, his instinct for exterminating the feline race, and 
 his implacable hatred towards rats. If he had been left to himself, 
 Mylord would have depopulated the suburbs in a month, and ]\Iont- 
 fiiucon in six weeks. 
 
 From time to time, also, Adolphe would conduct him to the Bar- 
 rière du Combat, and these occasions were always treats for the boys, 
 who, invariably appreciating true merit, had not been long in esti- 
 mating Mylord at his real value. Jlylord, as I have already 
 stated, -was open to anything from the rat to the bull. This was so 
 far true, that on one occasion the public, full of admiration for liis 
 exploits, and seeing that nothing could stand against him, called for 
 "CarpoUn." Adolphe was asked if he would let his dog fight with a bear. 
 Adolphe replied that his dog was ready to fight a rhinoceros if there 
 happened to be one on the premises. Carpolin appeared amid the 
 acclamations of the people, who made hira tlieir idol ; but before he 
 had even thought of putting himself on his guard, Mylord had 
 sprung upon him and taken his hold. The bear gave a terrible grow 1 
 and raised himself on his hind loi^s. Mvlord closed his teeth in
 
 THE SOUTH OF FRAXCE. 
 
 his best style, allowed himself to be lifted from the eai-th and re- 
 mained for nearly a quarter of an hour sus])eiuled from the car of his 
 antagonist. The enthusiasni was at its hij;;hest pitch, and a butcher 
 actually tlu'cw him a crown. 
 
 rNCorNTr.K iii:T\M.rN iniuup anp c\nr.n.i> 
 
 The day after fliis memorable combat, 15aron Alfred de 11 
 
 presented himelf at Adolphc's residisiee. He had assisted the even- 
 ing previously at the triuin])h of Mylord, and knowing that Adoljdie 
 wn» a great anmteur of lire-arms, canio to beg that ho would clionse 
 any one he liked from his collection, and in exchange give up Mylord. 
 
 It was already a year since Adolphe had brought back Mylord 
 from lùigland : a year was, as we have already said, llie term of hismost 
 lively atlcction. lie accordingly iumpid into the baron's till)urv, and 
 examined carefully all the fire-arms in his coUcctidu. The shooting 
 season was just coming on, aiul he naturally ])auscd before a mag- 
 nificent double-barrelled gun, by Dcvisme. It was a wonderful 
 weapon, mounted in engraved steel, with an ebony stock, and bar- 
 rels figured with the most heanliful oriuiments. Adolphe worked tho 
 locks one after the other, tried the trigger, and, shouldering the gun, 
 departed, leaving the baron in jiossession of Mylord.
 
 TIIK CARAVAN. 7 
 
 I'aron Alfred dc K lived in tlic house of his aunt, whose 
 
 fortune he expected to inherit, and Avho, in order to make liini wait 
 ])atiently, allowed him an income of twenty-five thousand francs a 
 year. That very day he was to make the customary hehdomadal 
 visit to his relative, in which, like a respectful and devoted nephew, he 
 never failed ; and as he intended on leaving- her rooms to attend the 
 Jockey Club, he went, accompanied by Mylord, whom he wanted to 
 ]MTScnt Avithout delay for the admiration of lus Anglo-maniacal 
 friends. 
 
 There were three things which the aunt of the Baron Alfred de 
 
 R liked above all others. The first was herself, the second 
 
 her cat, and the tliird her nephew. Accordingly, Alfred was very 
 careful on each of these visits to provide himself with a box of 
 sweetmeats for his Aunt Estella, and a bag of biscuits for " the Doctor," 
 which was the name, thanks to her magnificent fur, and her majestic 
 air, that the godmother of the Angola had bestowed on her. 
 
 Alfred entered as usual, stepping on the toes of his varnished 
 boots, and holding in one hand the sweetmeats, and in the other the 
 bag of biscuits. He advanced towards his aunt, who was seated in a 
 large, gilt, easy chair, caressing the ])oetor, who was lying languidly 
 on her lap. Aunt Estella received her nephew with a smile, while 
 the Doctor, recognising the visitor as one of his best patients, jumped 
 to the ground, drew himself up on his four legs, raised his tail, and 
 rounded his back, with a mew, and then began purring and rubbing 
 himself about the legs of his friend. Hitherto, of course, everything 
 was going on wonderfully ; but, unhappily, at this moment a servant 
 opened the door, and Mylord, who had remained outside on the rug-, 
 entered the room. The Doctor, with all the insolence and jealousy 
 of a favourite, accustomed as it was to use its claws upon all the grey- 
 hounds and King Charles' dogs of the Fauboui-g St Germain, was 
 about to behave in its customary manner ; but this time the antagonist 
 had changed, the Doctor made but one bound, and ^Ijlord but 
 one bite. Aunt Estella gave a shriek, and the baron threw himself 
 upon his dog. IMylord had hold of the ].)octor by the head ; Alfred 
 seized Mylord by the tail, and commenced biting it with all his might, 
 which, as every one knows, is the only means of making a bull-dog- 
 let go. Mylord opened his teeth, and the Doctor fell to the ground 
 like a log, extended its paws convulsively, and cxjiired. The baron 
 turned towards his aunt to exculpate himself; but his aunt, upright 
 and pale as a ghost, seemed to be without either speech or life. At 
 last she sufficiently recovered her powers of voice and motion to stretch 
 out her hands to her ne])hew and curse him ; this last act of vengeance 
 having been accomplished, she fell back upon her arm-chaii- and
 
 g THE SOl'TII OF FRANCK. 
 
 fainted. Seeing this, tlie baron took Mylonl by the neck, nntl re- 
 treated to his own apartments, leavintj the corpse of the Doctor 
 stretched on the floor. 
 
 Five minutes after, Aunt Estella came to herself, and inquired 
 for lier wretch of a nephew. The servant answered, that, annihilated 
 by the malediction bestowed upon him, the unfortunate Alfred had 
 gone away iu despair. At this very moment tîie report of a pistol 
 Avas heard. 
 
 ""What is that sound?" said his aunt. 
 
 '• Good heavens ! " cried the servant. " Can it be my young mas- 
 ter who, unable to support the weight of his misfortune ." 
 
 Aunt Estella heard no more. Slie gave a second shriek, and fainted 
 away a second time. 
 
 We have already stated that Aunt Estella loved herself best ; after 
 herself, her cat ; and after her cat, her nephew. Her tirst thought on 
 recovering her senses was, that if the Doctor was dead, and her nephew 
 in tlie same i)redicament, there would no longer remain either beasts or 
 men in the world to love her, and that her old age would be aban- 
 doned to the mercenary cai'c of strangers. She then repented of 
 having shown so much feeling on the death of the Doctor, and oidered 
 the servant to go up to her nephew's room, and return directly to tell 
 her all about him. The seryant obeyed ; but as she was going up, 
 Alfred came in. Aunt Ejtella, seeing him thus enter when she 
 thought he might be no mol-e, shrieked and fainted a third time. 
 
 On her return to life sin? was informed that her nephew, unwilling 
 that a murderer like Myloi*^ should survive his victim, had resolved to 
 do justice on the spot, and rihat the pistol shot, of which she had heard 
 the report, had been tired wr the purpose of ridding societj' of tho 
 Doctor's assassin. Aunt liÉtella btcame more calm on lu-aring that 
 her cat had been avengeo, and thouglit that her tiunies reciuired 
 no further sacrifice. She therefore held out her hand to her nephew, 
 in token of reconciliation. ; The baron kissed it respectfully ; and iu 
 order that the sight of deadi might no longer aliliet his Aunt Estella, 
 placed the body of the defunct on a velvet cushion, and ordered tho 
 servant to carry it carefully into his own room. 
 
 J'-ight days afterwards the Doctor, who had been stulfed by tho 
 king's own naturalist and arranged on his cushion, was sleeping the 
 «leep of the just under a magnificent glass case ; while Mylord had 
 iuhtaJled liimself on a tiger skin in tho studioof Jadin, who had taken 
 him in exchange for a landscape for which tho baron had been bar- 
 gaining with liim for a long time. 
 
 It was at this period tliat he passed the two most triumphant 
 year» of hii life, li!,'liting daily with the greatest eelebrilies of tho
 
 TUE CARAVAN. 9 
 
 barrière, and having a little quiet sport in his spare moments with a 
 monkey, whose left jaw he tore away, and a bear, in wliose right car 
 he made a decided incision. 
 
 Myiord, who had now reached the hcii^ht of his reputation, and 
 was covered with scars, having ah-eady passed the ])rime of his life, 
 was counting upon an old age as tranquil as liis youth had been dis- 
 turbed ; when, unfortunately for him, the idea came into my head of 
 nuilving the excursion (of which we are about to give the particulars 
 to our readers), and to associate myself for this trip with two painters, 
 of whom Jadin, from our old friendship, and still more from his 
 great talent, was naturally to be one. 
 
 The result of this determination was, that on October 15, 18 — , at 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, without permission being asked, and 
 without telling him where he was going to, Mylord was placed in a 
 j)ost-chaii.e which soon bore his master and myself far from the 
 capital. 
 
 And now that our readers are tolerably acquainted with the com- 
 position of the whole caravan, they must permit us to return to the 
 journey from which this important digression has, for the moment, 
 taken away om- attention.
 
 
 CIIAPTEIl II. 
 
 r.>NTAiNK;',i,i:Ai:. 
 
 It will be understood that, with 
 the plan of exploration whieh wo 
 liad fonnc'd, our journej' naturally 
 commenced at tlic barrier. And 
 it is very curious, when one is ad- 
 vancing towards a particular coun- 
 try, to see it approach in a cer- 
 tain manner, to notice where two 
 •nations be<;in to mix willi one 
 another, then to unite, and ulti- 
 nuitely to separate. The Gauls and 
 the Komiins have both i)assed the 
 Alps, each IVom their own side; in 
 the one case to seize on the capi- 
 tal, in the other to Omnd Lyons. 
 Since then the French and the 
 Itnlinns have followed the road cut out hy their ancestors: the latter 
 witli the Medici, to introduce their immortal acts; the former with 
 Napoleon, to imixwe on Koine the iMyally of a day. Thus each nation
 
 FOXTAIXEELEAU. H 
 
 Ini.s left at the loot of the mountains -which separate one from the 
 other, certain traces which become lost in proportion as they advance 
 into the heart of the opposite country, but which are always and 
 everywhere recognised by the practised eye. No one will be asto- 
 nished, then, at our making our first resting-place at fifteen leagues 
 from Paris, where we found the marks of the civiUzation of Leo X. 
 and Julius II. 
 
 For the rest, Fontainebleau is so near Paris, there would be nothing 
 astiJiiishing in our finding several things to say about it that were 
 never known before. Every year nearly two thousand persons leave 
 Paris to go and admire the works of Kaphael and Michael Angelo, 
 but there are not fifty who will trouble themselves, between the hours 
 of breakfast and supper, to see the only frescoes we have in France, 
 although they are by Kosso and Primatice. 
 
 [Moreover, Fontainebleau is a building of historical interest. Louis 
 Le Jeune had the chapel consecrated by Thomas-à-Becket, and it 
 was there that Philip Augustus fed the poor of tlie Hotel-Dieu de 
 Nemours with that which remained from the royal table. St Louis, 
 who called it his desert, contemplated dying there ; and Philip the 
 Fair was born there. It was there that Louis XL commenced the 
 formation of a library which Louis XII. removed to Blois ; that 
 F'rancis I. gave/cVcs to his enemy Charles V., and Ilcnry II. held 
 tournaments in honour of his mistress, Diana of Poitiers ; that Charles 
 IX. signed the pardon of Condé, and Henry IV. the sentence of 
 Biron ; that Louis XIII. received the baptism of water, and Henrietta 
 of France the baptism of blood ; that Christina caused Monaldeschi to 
 be assassinated, and Louis XIV. revoked the edict of Nantes ; lastly, it 
 was there that Pius VII. laid down his tiara, and Napoleon his crown. 
 
 It was in 1 J39 that Charles V., in crossing France for the purpose of 
 entering Flanders, halted at Fontainebleau. Francis I. has been much 
 praised for his magnanimity in not taking advantage of the confidence 
 placed in him by his rival ; but, according to our opinion, it is the noble- 
 ness of Charles V. which is principally to be admired in the matter. 
 Indeed, of these two kings, one of whom has left the reputation of 
 a warrior, the other that of a politician, Charles V. was always tlie 
 foremost in courage and honour, whilst Francis I., on the contrary, 
 refused a challenge which was given to him, and broke through a 
 treaty which he had signed. When the warrior broke his three 
 swords at Pavia, it could not be forgotten that the provoked monarch 
 had not drawn his ; and those members of his old nobility, who held 
 sacred the religion of the oath even when given to an enemy, always 
 remembered that, although Charles V. went out of France without 
 leaving a ransom behind, Francis I. had entii-ely forgotten to send
 
 12 THE SOUJ'Ii OK FRANCE. 
 
 his owr. to Spain. King John acted very diflercntly after the battle 
 of Poitiers: when ho perceived that tlie trcatj- of Brittany would 
 be too oppressive ou Fi-ance, he returned to England and died there. 
 
 In fact, the monarchy was already in its decline. Influences of 
 a fatal nature were beginning to nullify the wishes of the throne, 
 and the reign of favourites had commenced with the Duchess 
 d'Etampes. She was called the most beautiful of tiic learned, and 
 the most learned of the beautiful ; and it was to her that the king 
 sacrificed the Countess of Cliattaubriand. Now also was the period 
 of the loves of Diana of Poitiers (called la f/raiule Séiiccliale) and 
 the young daupldn, Henry II. The Duchess d'Etampes could not 
 foij,'et the price at which Mademoiselle de Saint-Vallier was said 
 to have saved the life of her father who had been compromised in 
 the revolt of the Constable do Bourbon, and accordingly, after gaining 
 possession of the king's heart, she pm-sucd her with all the hatred of 
 a rival in her amoui's with the dauphin, llcvcngeful, venal, and 
 perfidious, she was the bad genius of the court, as Madame de Chateau- 
 briand had been its angel; and when Charles V. arrived at Fontaine- 
 bleau, she in no way halted in her infernal mission, for while she 
 was walking before the imperial guest, leaning upon the arm of 
 Francis I., she inclined towards the ear of her lover, and in the 
 same voice with which she would have assured him of htr love, urged 
 him to the commission of an act of infamous treason. At this mo- 
 ment the two sovereigns met. 
 
 *• My brother," said Francis I., presenting the Duchess d' Etampes 
 to the noble traveller, "here is a lady who has just been giving mo 
 a piece of advice : it is to keep you prisoner here until you have 
 torn up the treaty of Madrid." 
 
 "If the advice be good, you had better follow it," replied the 
 emperor, haughtily, as he walked to the riglit of Francis I. with as 
 much calniniss and ])resence of mind as if he had just received one 
 of tlie ordinary civilities offered by a host. 
 
 I5ut two liours afterwards, as they were going to dinner, n:ic 
 while thi! Duchess d'Etampes was on her knees, holding water for 
 Charles V. in a vessel of gold, the lord of Mexico, in washing his 
 hands, left a diamoiid worth half a million francs at the bottom of 
 the basin. The duchess ])crceived it, and jioiuted it out to the 
 cm])eror, wlio, again playing the chivalrous jiart wliich has been 
 attributed to his rival, replied : "lean sec that tlie ring wishes to 
 change its master; it is in too beaufiful hands for me to take it from 
 thcni." From this moment theduciiess changed entirely, and instead 
 of urging her lover to become a trailor to his guest, slie herself, for 
 the sake of the guest, became a traitor towards hi r lover ; for in lô'> I,
 
 VOXTAINEBLKAU. 13 
 
 that is to say, five years after the scene -wliich we have described, 
 when Charles V. and Henry VIII. attacked Francis I., the Duchess 
 d'l-ltanipes gave up the pUm of the campaign to the emperor. 
 
 A century had elapsed, and the noise of these great disputes was 
 at an end : king and favourite had goneto render an account cf 
 blood spilt, and promises broken. Six crowned generations had 
 ])assed between the aged Francis I. and the child Louis XIV., when, 
 on the 3rd of October, 1G57, some travelling equipages, coming from 
 the direction of Italy, stopped in the court-yard of the Palace cf 
 Fontainebleau. From the first coach a little woman was seen to 
 descend, of about thirty or thirty-five years of age, of an irregular 
 but highly characteristic face, and clothed in a sort of fancy costume, 
 Avhich belonged in part to cither sex. She was accompanied by two 
 Italians, of whom one, it was said, was her lover ; by three Swedes, who 
 fulfilled various offices; and by some Corsican and German soldiers, 
 who acted as her guards. She spoke to each one in his own lan- 
 guage, as if that language had been her mother tongue. At this 
 moment the Prior of the Trinitaires having crossed the yard, she 
 addressed him in Latin. This strange woman was the daughter of 
 Gustavus Adolphus, Queen Christina of Sweden, who, having abdi- 
 cated the throne of her fathers in the Castle of Upsal, June 16, 1GÔ4, 
 and having just left Kome, where she had abjui-ed the Protestant 
 faith, had been ordered, at the Convent of Charité sur Loire, to stop 
 at Fontainebleau. 
 
 When, in the year 1830, a drama of ours was represented at the 
 Odéon, in which this queen was made the heroine, the principal 
 faults brought against us were the cowardice of Monaldeschi and the 
 cruelty of Christina. Is^ow, when we can no longer appear in the 
 light of a barrister pleading his own cause, we will place before the 
 eyes of our readers the literal account which Father Lebel, the supe- 
 rior of the Trinitaires has left of this event, in order that it may be 
 seen — supposing always that our drama has not been entirely for- 
 gotten — whether we have exaggerated anything : — 
 
 "On the 6th of November, 1657, at a quarter-past nine in the 
 morning, the Queen of Sweden, who was then at P^ontainebleau, sent 
 one of her attendants to look for me. He said that he had orders 
 from her majesty to conduct me to her, as she wished to speak with 
 me, if I were superior of the convent. I replied that I was, and 
 that I would go with him to learn her Swedish majesty's ^^•ishes. 
 Accordingly, without waiting for any companion, lest I should keep 
 the queen waiting, I at once followed the attendant to the anti- 
 chamber. I was left Wciiting there a moment, but the attendant 
 soon came back, and conducted me into the presence of the Queen of
 
 H TIÎl- SOVTII OF rnANCK. 
 
 Sweden. I found her aione, and having paid her my respectful 
 homage, I inquired what her majesty wished from nie, her very 
 humble servant. She told me that, in order to speak with greater 
 liberty, I must follow her, and having entered the gallery, she asked 
 me if 1 had never spoken to her before. I replied that I had had 
 tlie honour of bowing to her majesty, and assuring her of my humble 
 obedience, and that she had had the kindness to thaidc me, and that 
 that was all. Upon this the queen told mc that I wore a coat which 
 obliged her to trust me, and made me promise to keep the secret 
 whicli she was about discovering to me, and to regard it as sacred as 
 n confession. I answered her majesty that in matters of secrecy, 1 
 was naturally blind and dumb, and that being so with regard to all 
 sorts of persons, I was so by a stronger reason in the case of a queen 
 like herself; and I added that the Scripture said, ' It is well to 
 conceal the secret of a king:' — ' Sacnimeiitinii ra/is ahsconderc boa uni 
 
 " After this reply, she entrusted to mc a packet of papers scaled 
 in three or four places, without any inscription, and ordered me to 
 return it to her when she asked for it, no matter in whose presence; 
 I promised her Swedish majesty to do so. 
 
 " She commanded me afterwards to observe the time, tlie da}*, 
 llie liour, and the place at which she gave me the packet, and with- 
 out any further conversation I retired with the papers, leaving tlie 
 queen in the gallciy. 
 
 "Ou Saturday the lOtli day of tlie same month of Xovember, 
 at one in the afternoon, tlie (iueen of Sweden sent one of her valets 
 to look for mc, and wlien he told me that lier majesty wanted me, I 
 took the paeket which she liad given nie out of a cupboard, thinking 
 th'it she had sent for mc because she wished to have it back. I 
 followed the valet, who, after conducting me past tlic door of the 
 dungeon, led me into the Galerie des Cerfs, and as soon as we had 
 entered, shut the door with a haste that surprised me. I'erceiving 
 the queen in the middle of the gallery, talking to one of her suite, 
 who was called tlie marquis (I learned afterwards that it was flic 
 Mar<iuiM of Monaldesehi), I api)roac]ied her majisty ; after bowing to 
 me, she asked me, in the jiresence of the marquis and three other men 
 wlio were there, for the jmcket whicli kIic hud entrusted to mc. 
 Two of the three men were at about four paces distance from liio 
 queen, the third was close to her majesty. She tlien addressed mo 
 in the following terms : — ' J'uther, rt tinii me the packet which I gave 
 you.' I ap])roaehed her and presented it to her. Her majesty took 
 it, and after looking at it for some time, ojjcned it, and took out tho 
 !' "' ^ •"! "lifingH •.\hieh were inside. SIic then showed them to
 
 rOXTATXEHT.KAtJ. 15 
 
 the niarqms, and, m a Lmd v(jice and firm manner, asked hiin wliotlicr 
 he recognised them. The niurciuiti denied doing so, but turned very 
 pale. 
 
 '"Can you not recognise these letters and M-ritings?' said slic, 
 they being in I'act merely copies wliicli the queen had herself trans- 
 cribed And after allowing the marquis to reflect for some time, 
 
 she drew the originals from underneath, and sliowing them to him, 
 called him a traitor, and made him acknowledge his hand-writing 
 and signature. She questioned him on various points, and the mar- 
 quis answered the best way he could, casting the blame upon ditlerent 
 persons. At last he threw himself on his knees before the queen 
 and asked her pardon, and at the same time the three men who were 
 present drew their swords, and did not replace them in the scabbard 
 until after they had executed the marquis. 
 
 " The marquis rose and drew the queen first to one corner, then to 
 another, of the gallery, begging her to hear him, and to listen to his 
 excuses. Her majesty did not refuse, but heard him with the greatest 
 patience, without showing the least sign of anger. Then turning 
 towards me, when the marquis was begging her still more to listen 
 to him, 'Father,' she said, 'sec and bear me witness (approaching 
 the marquis, who was leaning on an ebony cane with a round top), 
 that I am ex^nbiting no hastiness towards this man, that I give this 
 perfidious traitor all the time that he requires, and more than he 
 ought to expect from a person whom he has offended, in order to 
 justify himself if he can. 
 
 " The mai-quis being thus pressed by the queen, gave her some 
 papers, and two or three little keys tied together, which he drew 
 from his pocket, and from which a few pieces of money fell ; and 
 after an hour's further conference, the marquis not satisfying the 
 queen with his answers, she apjjroached me and said to me in an 
 excited but solemn and measured voice : 'Father, I withdraw and 
 leave you this man : prepare him for death, and take care of liis 
 soul.' If this sentence had been pronounced against myself, I could 
 not have been more frightened. Well, at these words the marquis 
 threw himself at her feet, and I did the same, and begged for the 
 poor man's life, but she told me she could not grant it, and that this 
 txaitor was more criminal than those who ai'e condemned to the 
 wheel ; that he knew very well that she had communicated her most 
 important affairs and her most secret thoughts to him, thinking 
 him a faithfid subject ; besides which, she had performed actions with 
 which she would not re])roach him, but which exceeded in kindness 
 all that she could have done for a brother ; that she had always re- 
 garded hira as such, and that his conscience alone ought to be an
 
 16 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 executioner to bim. After these words her majesty witlidi-ew, leav- 
 ing me, with the three men who had their swords drawn, with the 
 view of performing the execution. After tlie queen had gone, the 
 marquis threw himself at my feet, and conjured me with prayers to 
 follow her majesty and to obtain his pardon. The three men pressed 
 hi:n to begin confessing, with their swords in rest, but without t(nich- 
 iii'^ him, and I with tears in my eyes exhorted him to ask pardon of 
 God. The chief of the three went out in order to implore the mercy 
 of the queen, and to obtain a pardon for the poor nuirquis; hut ho 
 came back sadly, his mistress having told him to be quick with the 
 execution, and said with tears, ' Marquis, think of God and your 
 soul, for you must die.' At these words the marquis appealed out 
 of his mind, and threw himself at my feet a second tmie, conjuring 
 me to go to the queen once more, and try the path of mercy and 
 pardon, which I accordingly did. Finding her majesty alone in her 
 room, with a calm countenance and betraying no emotion, I ap- 
 proached her, fell on my feet, and, with tears in my eyes and sobs 
 from my heart, besought her, by the grief and the Avounds of Jesus 
 Christ, to pity and forgive the nmrquis. The queen testifu d her 
 regret at not being able to grant my request, after the jicrtidy and 
 cruelty with which the unhappy man had behaved to her : she said, 
 that after that he ought never to hope for any ])ardon or mercy, and 
 that many had been stretched on the wheel who had not deserved it 
 so much as this traitor. 
 
 " Seeing that my entreaties had no effect on the mind of this 
 queen, I took the liberty of re])resenting to her that she was in 
 the palace of the king of I'rance, and that she ought to be carei'ul 
 in that which she contemplated doing, aiul to consider whether 
 the king would think it right. Upon this her majesty answered 
 tliat this was an act of righteous justice, and Ihat ."-he called God 
 to witness that she had no personal enmity towards the nnir<iuis, 
 and that she had thrown aside all animosity, thinking only of 
 liis crime and his pertidy, wliich could never be equalled, and 
 which affected all the world. IJesidcs, she said, the king of 
 Franco did not give her ajiartments in his palace as a captive ; she 
 was mistress of her own wishes to do and execute justice towards her 
 HcrvantH in all ])laces and at all limes, and that she had to answer 
 for her actions to God alone. Nhe added that what she was about ti> 
 do was not without precedent ; althougli I made njoinder that there 
 was some difference, and that when other sovereigns ha<l done any- 
 thing of the kind, it laid been in their own countries, and nowhere 
 else: directly I had said these words, 1 regretted it, fearing 1 had 
 gone too far with the (pieen. However, in going away I said to her
 
 FONTAINEBLEAU. 17 
 
 aj^ain : ' Madam, by the honour and esteem which you have acquired 
 in France, and by the hopes which all good Frenchmen have in your 
 negotiation, I implore your majesty to avoid this action, although 
 as regards your majesty it may be just, lest nevertheless it should 
 appear to the mind of others to be violent and precipitate. Perform 
 rather an act of generosity and mercy towards this poor marquis, or 
 at least place liim in the hands of the king's justice, and prosecute 
 him according to the usual forms ; you will have equal satisfaction, 
 and you will by those means preserve the title of admirable which 
 has been awarded you for your actions by all men.' ' What, my 
 father,' said the queen to me, ' am I, in whom absolute and sovereign 
 power over my subjects resides, to see myself reduced to a prosecu- 
 tion against a traitorous servant, the proofs of whose crime and per- 
 fidy are in my possession, written and signed with his own hand ?* 
 ' Very true, madam,' I said, ' but your majesty is partly interested. 
 The queen interrupted me, and said, 'No, no, father. I shall let 
 the king know of it. Return and take care of his soul, I cannot 
 in conscience grant you what you ask.' And thus she sent me away. 
 But I knew, from the change in her voice during the latter words, 
 that if the queen had been able to put oft" the execution and change 
 the place she would have indubitably have done so, but the affair 
 was too far advanced for her to alter her resolution without putting 
 herself in danger of letting the marquis escape, and placing her own 
 life in doubt. 
 
 "In this extremity I did not know how to act nor what to decide. 
 Go away I could not, and even if I had been able, I saw that I had 
 the duty imposed on me by charity and conscience of assisting the 
 marquis, and preparing him to meet death properly. 
 
 " I re-entered the gallery then, and embracing the unhappy man 
 who was bathed in tears, I exhorted him in the best and most pressing 
 terms which I could use, and with which it pleased God to inspire me, to 
 resign himself to death, and to think only of his conscience, since 
 there was no longer any hope of life for him in this world, for while 
 suffering death for the sake of justice, it was in God alone that he 
 ought to place his hopes of eternity, where he might still find con- 
 solation. 
 
 " At this sad news, after giving two or three loud cries, he placed 
 himself on his knees at my feet (I was sitting on one of the benches 
 of the gallery), and commenced his confession. He had gone 
 through a great part of it, when he raised him twice and cried out. 
 Immediately afterwards I made him go through some acts of faith, 
 and give up all other ideas. He finished his confession in Latin, 
 according as ho could explain himself best in his distress. The
 
 18 THE SOUTH OF FRA^'CE. 
 
 queen's almoner arrived as I was questioning him, in order to clear 
 up a doubt, and the marquis having: perceived him, \Yithout waiting 
 for the absolution, went up to him, hoping for a pardon through his 
 favour. Tliey talked together for a long time in a low voice, holding 
 each other's hands, drawn up together in a corner ; when their con- 
 ference was over, the almoner went out, and took with him the chief 
 of the three who had been entrusted with the execution, and a little 
 wliile afterwards, the almoner remaining outside, the other man came 
 back alone and said : ' Marquis ask pardon of God, for, without wait- 
 ing anv longer, you must die. Have you confessed ? ' And saying 
 these words, he pressed him against the wall at the end of the gallery, 
 where hangs the painting of Saint Germain-en-Layc, and I could not 
 turn away without perceiving that he gave him a blow in the stomach, 
 on the right side, and the marquis, wishing to parry it, took the sword 
 in liis right hand, and the other, diawing it back, cut off three of his 
 fingers, and found the edge of the sword turned. The marquis then 
 said to one of them that he wore armour beneath his clothes, as in 
 fact he did, having on a coat of mail which weighed from nine to ten 
 pounds, when the same man repeated his blow on the marquis's face, 
 which caused him to cry out ' Father, father.' I api)roached him, and 
 the others retiring a little on one side, he asked pai-don of God witli 
 one knee on the ground, and said something more to me, after which 
 I gave him the absolution with the penance of suti'ering death for liis 
 sins, telling him that he must forgive those who caused liim to die. 
 This being accomplished, he threw himself on the Hoor, and as he 
 was falling, another man gave him a blow on the top of the head, 
 which canied some of the bones away, and being stretched on his 
 breast, and making signs to have liis throat cut, the same man gave 
 him two or tlirec blows on the neck without doing him much harm, 
 on account of the coat of mail which had risen with the collar of his 
 doublet, and now warded off and lessened the force of the blow. 
 In tlie meanwliile I was exhorting liim to think of God, to suffer 
 with patience, and similar things. At this moment the chief camo 
 up, and a.skcd me if he should not finish executing him; I pushed 
 liim away roughly, and told him that I had no advice to give him on 
 the suliject, and that I hud been asking for his life, not his death. 
 After this he lugged my pardon, and confessed that lie had licen 
 wrong in asking me such a (juestion. 
 
 " .Vf'ter this conversât i(»n, tlic poor niar<iiiis was only waiting 
 for the last stroke, when the door of the gallery opened, lie- 
 gaining courage, Ik; turned round, and seeing that it was the almoner 
 who was coming in, dragged himself along in the best way he could, 
 Bujiporting himself against the hangings of the gallery, and asked to
 
 FONTAINEBLEAU, 19 
 
 speak to him. Tlie almoner passed to the left of the marquis, 1 heiii;.^ 
 on liis right, and the marquis, joining- his hands, said something t« 
 him as if he were confessing, and after\vards the ahnoncr told him to 
 ask pardon of God, and, when he obtained my permission, gave him 
 the absolution. He then retired, telling me to wait near the marquis, 
 and saying that he was going to sec the Queen of Sweden. At the same 
 time the man who had struck the marquis on the neck, and who had 
 been with the almoner on his left, pierced his throat with a narrow 
 and rather long sword, from which blow the marquis fell on his right 
 side and spoke no more, but remained breathing for more than a 
 quarter of an hour, during which time I was crying out to liini and 
 exhorting him in the best way I possibly could; and thus the mar- 
 quis lost his blood, and finished his life at tliree hom-s and three 
 quarters past noon. I said the I)c Profundis and the prayer to him, 
 and afterwards the chief of the three moved one of his legs and 
 one of his arms, unbuttoned his clothes and searched his pockets, but 
 found nothing except a little book, The Home of the Viryin, and a 
 small Icnife. They then all three went away, and I did the same, in 
 order to receive the commands of her majesty. The queen, when in- 
 formed of the death of the marquis, evinced regret at having been 
 obliged to order his execution, but said it was only just to do so on 
 account of his crime and treacliery, and that she prayed that God 
 might pardon him. She commanded me to take care that the body 
 was removed and buried, and said she wished to have numerous 
 masses said for the good of his soul. 1 ordered a bier to be con- 
 structed, and then had the body placed in a hearse, on account of its 
 heaviness, the fog, and the badness of the roads. It was taken to the 
 parish of Aron, by my vicar and chaplain, assisted by three men, who 
 had orders to bury it in the church near the font; and this was done 
 and executed at about three quai'ters of an hour past five in the 
 evening." 
 
 Louis XIV. heard of this murder, and thought it improper that 
 any other person than himself should assume the functions of sove- 
 reign and executor of justice in the kingdom of France. He, there- 
 fore, signified his displeasure to Christina through Cardinal Mazarin, 
 and the following is tlie letter which Christina sent in reply: — 
 
 " Monsieur Mazarin, those persons W'ho gave j'ou the particulars 
 about Monaldeschi, my equerry, were very ill informed. I think it 
 very strange that you should employ so many people in order to 
 enlighten yourself as to the facts of the case. Your proceedings, how- 
 ever, ought not to astonish me, mad as they arc, though I should 
 never have thought that either you or your conceited young master 
 would have dared to evince the least resentment towards me. Learn 
 
 • C 2
 
 20 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 then, all of you, ■whoever you may be, servants and masters, little and 
 great, that it has pleased me to act thus, and that I neither ought to, 
 nor \Yill I, render an account of my actiojis to any person uhatsoevcr, 
 above all to braggarts of your sort. You play a singular character 
 for a person of your rank ; but whatever reasons maj* have deter- 
 mined you to -write to me, I care too little to trouble myself about 
 them for a single instant. I wish you to know, and to say to any one 
 Avho chooses to hear it, that Christina cares vciy little for your couit, 
 and still less for you ; and that, in order to avenge myself, I have no 
 need to have recourse to your formidable power. I have acted in ac- 
 cordance with the dictates of my honour, and my will is a law which 
 you must respect. Silence is your duty : and many persons, whom I 
 do not esteem more than I do you, would do well to learn what is due 
 to their equals, before making more fuss tlian is necessary. 
 
 " Know, then, cardinal, that Christina is Queen wlicrever she goes, 
 and that in whatever place she may tliink tit to reside, she will always 
 lind better men than you and your confidants. 
 
 " The Prince of Condé might well exclaim, when you were inhu- 
 manly keeping hira prisoner at Vincennes, ' That old fox will never 
 cease to outrage the good servants of the state, unless the parliament 
 cither dismisses or severely punishes the illustrious old coxcomb of 
 Piscina.' 
 
 " Believe me, Jules, you had better behave Aourself in a manner 
 to merit my good wishes: tliat is a point which you cannot study too 
 much. God preserve you from hazarding the slightest indiscreet 
 remark about me ; even at the other end of the world 1 shall be in- 
 foimed as to your proceedings. I have iriends and courtiers at my 
 service who are as skill'ul and as ■watchful us your own, although not 
 so well paid." 
 
 A fortniglit after the reception of this letter, the King of Franco, 
 accomi)anicd by Cardinal Mazarin and all his com't, paid a formal 
 visit to tlie cx-(îuccn of Sweden.
 
 TUi; AIÎEC AT JONrAlNri.U'AC. 
 
 CHAPTEll III. 
 
 THE TWENTIETH OF APKIL. 
 
 The execution we have just men- 
 tioned was not the only one destined 
 to be associated with Fontainebleau ; 
 for in IGGl Louis XIV. ordered the 
 arrest of Fouquet, and on the 22;!d 
 of October, 168:5, revoked the edict 
 of Nantes in the same place. It was 
 this last event which caused Chris- 
 tina, whose communication, as may 
 have been seen from the foregoing 
 letter, showed that she had no in- 
 tention of abandoning her royal pri- 
 vileges — wliich caused Cliristina, 
 we were about to say, to write the
 
 ta THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 following; : — " I look upon France at present as a patient whose Icçrs 
 and arms are being cut off, in order to cure it of an illness which a 
 little patience and kindness would have entirely remedied ; but I 
 fear now lest the malady increase, and become at last incurable." 
 Christina was wrong, but it cost France a civil war, which lasted 
 from twenty to twenty-tive years. 
 
 Towai-ds the close of Louis XIV.'s life, Fontainebleau was aban- 
 doned for Marly. On the 26th of October, 1728, Louis XV. caught 
 the small-pox there, which began to undermine the reputation of the 
 favourite palace. As long as his reign lasted, it was certainly 
 marked about the period of the autumn excursions by some of those 
 mean intrigues which distinguished the ascendancies of Mesdames de 
 Pompadom- and Dubarry, but it was almost comi)letely abandoned 
 under Louis XVL, and during- the long interval which separated the 
 last years of Luuis XIV. from the earliest of Nai)oleon, nothing 
 worth recording took place. 
 
 The new emperor, unable to assimilate himself to the old dynas- 
 ties as to the (piestion of birth, determined at all events to do so as 
 fax as regarded his mode of life, also made a journey to Fontainebleau, 
 about the year 1804, and seeing into what a state of decay this 
 ancient royal residence had fallen, gave orders for its entire repair. 
 ITie work was immediately set about with a wonderful activity, for 
 Fontainebleau had ju>w been sehctcd as tli(' ])lace for the coming 
 interview between Na])olcon and Pope Pius VII., who was about 
 leaving Home to anoint him emperor. 
 
 IJut Xaj)oleon was one of those impatient geniuses who are unable 
 to wait. Accordingly he actjd towards Pius VII. in 1801, us he did 
 in 1810 towards Marie Louise; instead of waiting for t lie Pope to 
 make his entry into Fontainebleau, he got into a carriage, and drove 
 towards him. The meeting took ])laco at the Cross of St. llerem, 
 the same place to which Louis XVI IL, imi)atient in his turn like 
 Napoleon, came also to receive Caroline of X'nplcs, the betrothed of 
 liis nephew, the Duke de Ikrry. 
 
 Pius VII. ste])ped into the emperor's carriage, sat down on his 
 right liand, and on the 2.Jth of November, 1801, at about two o'clock 
 in the afternoon, they entered l''()utaiin'blcau together, and passed 
 tlie remainder of the day there. 
 
 A year afterwards Nupoleon, who had now j)laced on his head 
 another cmwn, bearing tlie following inserijjtion, " God I'.as given it 
 to me, woo to him who touches it !" learned ut Cîènes that a new 
 orjalition wan being organized against Jiini. lie immediately entered 
 his carriage with the emjiress, and in fifty hours arrived at Fontaine- 
 bleau ; then, whll^t his loom and supper were being prepared, he
 
 TUE TWENTIETH OF AnilL. 23 
 
 hastened to open the door of his topof^raphical cabinet, and as ho 
 partook of some fruit which had been brouj^ht to him, and advised 
 the empress to take her rest, ho formed the plan of that famous 
 campaign, -which commenced with the taking of Uhn, and finislied by 
 the battle of Austerlitz. 
 
 Whether from a recollection of the days of Louis XIV., or from 
 a grateful remembrance of this night of inspiration. Napoleon re-estab- 
 lished these visits to Fontainebleau; and, in 1 807, gave magniticcnt/e^es 
 on the occasion of the marriage of his brother Jerome (for whom he 
 had just cut out a little kingdom in the heart of Germany) with the 
 Princess Frederica Catherine of Wiu-temberg. It was during the 
 month which the Com-t then passed at Fontainebleau, that the conti- 
 nental blockade was decided upon, and that Portugal was divided 
 into three parts, the northern portion being given to the King of 
 Etruria, to recompense him for the loss of Tuscanj', ■which came back 
 to France ; the southern portion, under the title of principality, to 
 Manuel Godoy, as a reward for his good and loyal services, while the 
 provinces of the middle were left to be dealt with according to cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 In the month of June, 1808, King Charles IV. arrived at Fontaine- 
 bleau. Ile had just exchanged his kingdom of Spain, and his 
 possessions in the Indies for a royal prison in France. 
 
 In 1809, Napoleon came back to Fontainebleau the conqueror of 
 Wagrani and Friedland, and was then at the summit of his glory ; 
 one thing only was wanting to fix his poA\ or for ever, and that was 
 an heh'. It was during this journey to Fontainebleau, that the 
 empress was told formally of the intended divorce : although it is 
 true, that for four years previously this had been her constant and 
 mortal fear. On leaving INIilan the empress shed tears as she kissed 
 her son Eugène. " You weep," said Napoleon to her, " you weep for 
 a momentary separation : if the grief of quitting one's children, is so 
 great, it must be a great blessing to possess them; judge then what 
 those must suffer who have none." 
 
 This was but a remark, but Napoleon wasted so few words, that 
 everything he said had its signification. 
 
 In 1810 Napoleon issued from Fontainebleau that terrible decree, 
 which ordered all the English merchandise to be burned which could 
 be seized in France, and in the different kingdoms over which he had 
 power. 
 
 On the 19th of June Pius VII. again entered Fontainebleau ; but, 
 this time, without any one going to meet him, for he did not make his 
 appearance as a sovereign pontiff, but as a prisoner. 
 
 Towards the commencement of January, 1813, Napoleon returned
 
 24 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 to Fontainebleau. The year 1812 had passed like a spectre between 
 the conqueror and his good fortune. His proud nature had been 
 embittered by his reverses, and the unconquered one now understood 
 that he was probably not unconquerable. He, who hud for a moment 
 thought himself a god, was obliged to acknowledge that he was only 
 a man. 
 
 He was anxious to settle the affiiirs of the Church before going 
 to Saxony. Accordingly he came to Fontainebleau, and inquired 
 after hii- reverend visitor. He was told that in spite of the permis- 
 sion which had been granted him to walk in the gardens, and 
 although the imperial carriages had been placed at his service every 
 day, the Pope had refused to put his foot outside his room. " Yes, 
 yes," murmured Napoleon on hearing this, " he wishes it to bo 
 said that he is imprisoned here." He then announced himself to 
 
 Pius vn. 
 
 The interview appears to have been long and animated, and yet 
 it led to nothing. Pius VH. saw Napoleon giving way like tliose 
 images of false gods on which the early pontitl's had exercised their 
 poweiful intluence, and would yield nothing. Napoleon came away 
 from him the more furious, inasmuch as, owing to the character, and 
 venerable age of the pope, he had been obliged to contain his wrath ; 
 but when he met Cardinal Fesch in the Gallery of Diana, he related 
 to him what had taken place, and as the cardinal remained silent. 
 Napoleon said, '' Where then does the obstinate old man want me 
 to send him ? " 
 
 "Perhaps to heaven," replied the cardinal; and this answer at 
 •ftec sufKccd to calm even the emperor. 
 
 Pius vn. stoi)pcd at Fontainebleau until January 'J Itli, ISl 1, and 
 during the whole of liis captivity, that is to say d\ning nearly two 
 rears, he remained faithiul to his first resolution and refused to j)ass 
 the threshold of his chamber. 
 
 In the meanwhile the northern horizon was darkening more and 
 more; the storm was advancing threateningly towards Paris, each 
 day it approached the capital more nearly, and the cannon of the 
 evening was now to be lieard growling like thunder. 
 
 On the .'iOtii of March, IHI 1, at about nine o'clock in the evening, 
 a clniriot, coming from the direction oi' \'illeneuve-Hur-\anms. arrived 
 at Fontainelileau at the greatest Bi)eed. A courier iuid come nliout 
 ten iiiinutcM before it, shouting, " 'I'iie I'.mperor ! the lùnpeior !" so 
 that the liorses were changed in u second. Napoleon had only time 
 to say a few words to the postmaster : — 
 
 "Have you luard the soinid ol' camion in tin- course of llie day?" 
 he asked.
 
 THE TV/ENTIETII OF APRIL. SB 
 
 " Yes, SÛT," was the rejjly. 
 
 " I was not deceived then. In what dii-cction?" continued the 
 emperor. 
 
 " In the direction of Paris," answered the i)ostmastor. 
 
 " Exactly so. At whp t time did it leave oil' ? " 
 
 "At five*^ o'clock." 
 
 And the chariot continued its course as if carried by the wind. 
 
 At ten o'clock that eveninj^ Napoleon was only at five leagues 
 from the barriers ; he chang^ed horses again at Fromenteau and con- 
 tinued with the same rapidity as before. As he reached the fountains 
 of Juvisy he met an aide-de-camp, who was himself i-iding at the 
 greatest speed his horse was capable of. Napoleon recognised the 
 uniform, called to him, exchanged a few words with him, got out of 
 the coach into the road, and seated himself on one of the stone 
 benches which arc found at its side, had a long and animated con- 
 versation with the messenger, drank a glass of water which was 
 fetched for him from the spring, got into the coach without changing 
 a feature, and in the same voice with which he had previously 
 shouted Paris ! now cried to the postillions, " Fontainebleau!" 
 
 Paris had ' surrendered at five in the afternoon, and the enemy 
 were to enter it at day-break. 
 
 Five days afterwards Napoleon wrote on a slip of paper the follow- 
 ing lines, the most inij^ortant perhaps ever traced bj'a human pen: — 
 
 " The Allied Powers having declared that the emperor is the only 
 obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the emperor, 
 faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces all claims to the 
 thrones of France and Italy, both as regards himself and his children, 
 and that there is no sacrifice, even to that of his life, which he is not 
 willing to make for the interest of France." 
 
 The table on which these lines were written is still to be seen at 
 Fontainebleau, but no one knows what has become of the emperor's 
 autograph. 
 
 On the night of the twelfth the silence which reigned in the 
 palace was suddenly disturbed by loud cries ; there was rushing to 
 and fro, a confusion of persons in the corridors, every one asking his 
 neighbour what had taken place, and a mixture of voices replying — 
 " The emperor has taken poison !" 
 
 At tliis news every one hastened towards the room which Napo- 
 leon occupied, but the door had been fastened, and within were 
 Marshal Bertrand, the Duke of Vicenza, the Duke of Bassano, and 
 Ivan the surgeon ; no other persons were allowed to enter. Those 
 outside paused to listen, and groans were heard ; nothing more tran- 
 spired.
 
 ofî THE SOUTH OF FKANCE. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened and sliut ; Ivan, the sui'geon, came out 
 as pale as a jjliost. He only replied to the questions i)ut to liim by 
 stretching out his hand, and, in obedience to the signal, room was 
 made tor him to pass. He descended the staircase rapidly, entered 
 the yard, found a horse tied to the railings, mounted it and disap- 
 peared into obscurity. 
 
 Tlie following is what is related on the subject : — 
 
 Napoleon had heard of the poison taken by Condorcct. At the 
 period of the retreat from Kussia, resolved not to fall alive into the 
 hands of the enemy, he had called for Cabanis, and had desired him 
 to prepare a composition similar to the one in question. Cabanis 
 wrote the preserijjtion, and Ivan made it up. During the whole of 
 the retreat Napoleon carried this composition in a little bag sus- 
 pended from liis neck, and, as soon as he arrived in France, concealed 
 it in tlie secret drawer of a travelling case, \\liich never left liim, and 
 which, on his death, he bcqiuathed to his son. 
 
 Now, in the silence of the night, during one of those long periods 
 of sleeplessness which had been liabitual to him for the last two or 
 three years, perceiving that every one was abandoning him with his 
 good fortune, that some were ujigrateful and others treacherous, he 
 tliought of the poison which had lain for two ycai-s in his secret 
 drawer. Tlie valet, who slept in the next room to him, heard him 
 get up, saw liim, through the crevice of the door, unfold a powder 
 into a glass of water, drink it off, and then go back to Ited. During 
 upwards of a quarter of an hour lie kept a profound silence : it was 
 the struggle between courage and ])aiu — but at last pain was tlic 
 conqueror. Hearing the groans which Napoleon uttered, the valet 
 hastened to him, and questioned him about the matter with prayers 
 and supplications; when, seeing that he could obtain no answer from 
 liim, he rushed out of the room, and running to the emperor's most 
 intimate friends, raised the cry, at the sound of which every one had 
 hurried forth. As we have already said. Marshal Ik'rtrand, tlio 
 Duke of liu-ssano, the Duke of Vicenza, and Ivan, hastened to the 
 room, and, on seeing the latter, Najmleon raised liiniself in his bed and 
 cried out, showin<i: liim at the same time the empty bag, " Kverytbing, 
 then, betniys me now, even ])()isoii !" At heiuMUg Ibis, Ivan beeamo 
 distiiieted, and, without making any answer— without endeavouring 
 to (•.\cul])ate liimself — went oui, innimtcd the first iiorse he met with, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 (>o to l'"onlainebleau, and they \^ill still sliow the room where this 
 teiTil)ie drama took |)lace. 
 
 On the 2()th of April, nt six in tlu* morning, Napolecm heard of 
 two final dcHcrtions : liis vulef, Constant, and iiis Man.eluke liad dis-
 
 TIIK TWENTIETH OF APllIL, 27 
 
 appeared during the uiglit. At ten it was announced that tlic last 
 of the commissioners of the Allies, the Austrian General Kollcr, had 
 an-ived. At noon the travelling carriages entered the court-yard of 
 the Cheval Blanc, and were drawn up at the foot of the colossal stair- 
 case which forms the entrance. At half-past twelve the imperial 
 guard received orders to take arms and form in line. At one, the 
 gate opened, and Napoleon appeared. On the steps of the staircase 
 were the Duke of lîassano. General lîelliard. Colonel lîassy. Colonel 
 Anatole de Montesquieu, Count de Turenne, General Fouler, l^aron 
 Mcsgrigny, Colonel Gourgaud, Baron Fain, Lieutenant-Colonel Atlui- 
 lin. Baron de La Place, Baron Leborgne d'Ideville, the Chevalier 
 Jouanne, General Kosakowski, and Colonel Vonsowich. 
 
 The names of some of these persons are unknown, but their presence 
 at such a moment will be sufficient to prevent them remaining so. 
 
 This was all that remained to Napoleon of that brilliant court of 
 emperors, kings, princes, and marshals, which surrounded him at 
 Erfurt. The Duke of Vicenza and General Flaliaut were employed 
 at the time on a mission. 
 
 Najjolcon paused for an instant at the top of the staircase, took a 
 comprehensive glance at those who surrounded him, gave a sad smile, 
 and then descended quickly, finding some hand to grasp at each step ; 
 and advancing into the midst of his soldiers, made a sign that he 
 wished to speak. Thei-e was general attention. Then, with that 
 same voice which had vibrated in his addresses before Marengo, 
 Austerlitz, and Moscow, he commenced : — 
 
 " Soldiers of my old guard, I bid you farewell ! For the last 
 twenty j'cars I have found you constantly in the path of honour and 
 glory. In these latter days, as in those of our prosperity, you have 
 never ceased to be models of bravery and fidelity. "With men such 
 as you our cause was not lost, but the war was interminable — it was 
 a civil war — and France would onlj have been made more unhappy 
 by it; 1 have, then, sacrificed all our interests for those of our eoun- 
 tiy. I leave you; but you, my friends, must continue to serve 
 France. Its happiness was my only thought, and will always be the 
 object of my prayei*. Do not pity my fate : if I have consented to 
 su^■^■ive myself, it is in order that I may still be of service to your 
 glory : I wish to write of the great things that we have done toge- 
 ther. Farewell ! my children ; would that I could press you all to 
 my heart. Let me once more kiss your flag." 
 
 Here his voice failed him, and with the flag, which he had taken 
 into his arms, he concealed and wiped away his tears. Nothing but 
 sobs were heard. All these wai-riors wept like children about to lose 
 a father !
 
 28 THE SOfTll OF FRANCE. 
 
 But the voice of the emperor was aj^ain heard. "Farewell ! once 
 more, my old comrades," said he; "may this kiss reach all your 
 hearts!" After which he spranjj into the carriage whei'e Marshal 
 Bertrand was waiting for him. The carriage stai'ts — disappears 
 from the eyes of his old brothers in arms. 
 
 We meet with him next in the island of Elba. 
 
 M. Jamin, the author of a pamphlet from which we have borrowed 
 a great many good things, did us the honours of Fontainebleau, 
 ancient and modern, from the room where Francis I. came to visit 
 the dying Lionardo da Vinci, to that in which the emj)eror signed 
 his abdication.* He next conducted us to the church of Aron, and 
 showed us the tomb of Monaldeschi which, with Father Le Bel's 
 narrative in our hand, we should have rec'ogniscd at the foot of the 
 hi^iiiticr, even if a hand less learned than fierce had not traced the 
 short epigraph " Cy yit Monaldeschi" on the funeral marble. 
 
 It is, we are assui'cd, in this very church, that the bowels of 
 Philippe le Bel arc buried. The marble which covers them is 
 shown ; but only the following words of the inscription, which has 
 been nearly effaced by the feet of the curious, and the knees of the 
 faithful, can be read: — ^^ qui trépassa l'an de C Incarnation I'll i), le 
 jour (le Pasques." 
 
 On the two sides of the door, let into the wall, are the tombs of 
 Vaubanton and Hezout. 
 
 After having the church, we wished our complaisant cicerone 
 good-bye, and getting into the carriage proceeded on our route. 
 
 • nr a singular coincidence the fresco on tlic ceiling reprcsents Force tlitl;r.i.i(; 
 to JiiBlicc.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DOCTOR M . 
 
 HE same evening, at about 
 nine o'clock, we arrived at 
 Cosne. A yomig man of my 
 acquaintance was living in 
 the neighbourhood of this 
 town, with his wife and two 
 beautiful cliildren, on an 
 estate which brought him in 
 from ten to twelve thousand 
 francs a year. It took him 
 about ten months to spend 
 the sixth part of this, like a 
 patriarch on his own land : 
 the remainder went in six 
 weeks at Paris. He had often 
 invited me, if my journeys 
 should ever take me towards 
 the mouth of the Noraiu, to 
 shoot over his grounds, promising me plenty of game, so that, as 
 it is becoming scarcer and scarcer, we stopped at Cosne in order 
 to profit next day by the invitation. Accordingly, the first thing I 
 did on arriving at the hotel of the Grand Cerf, was to get informa- 
 tion about the estate of ISIarsilly, and my friend Ambroise R . 
 
 The estate of Marsilly Avas situate at a distance of two leagues, and 
 
 my friend Ambroise R was fortunately staying that evening at 
 
 the very hotel. He had been requu-cd at Cosne to give evidence in 
 
 the case of Dr. M , who was accused of having poisoned his wife 
 
 and daughter. 
 
 As Ambroise had gone out for a moment, we asked if there were 
 no curiosities to see in the town, while supper, which our host had 
 promised us in half an hour was getting ready. We were informed 
 that there was nothing but the ii'on works, the forges of wliich were 
 just going to be set to work.
 
 30 TUE SOITH OF FRANCE. 
 
 I have little sympatliy for machinery ; the action of macliinos of 
 great power always tcrrihes me by its impassibility. Tlierc are some 
 above all employed for beating out metals, and which do so to an 
 alarming extent. "Whatever these may happen to seize between their 
 iron teeth, once seized, the thing must pass through a hole more or 
 less great, towards which all fabricable substar.ccs are conducted. Of 
 ■whatever size the thing may be when it goes in, let it be a beam of 
 the greatest thickness, it will come out stretched into a knitting 
 needle of the greatest fineness. As for the machine it merely turns, 
 that is its business, and its duty, and it matters not to it what the 
 substance be which it has to crush and draw out. You olier it an 
 iron bar, the monster draws it to itself and devours it. You don't 
 take your hand back quickly enough, the machine ])inchcs the end of 
 your linger and all is over. You may cry out, but if there be no 
 workmen present with a hatchet to cut your wrist off, after the fin- 
 ger comes the hand, after the hand the arm, after the arm the liead. 
 after the head the body. Shrieks, oaths, prayers, nothing will avail 
 you ; the shortest plan for your friends or family, is to look out for 
 you on the other side of the machine. You went in a man, you 
 come out a wire ; in five minutes you have grown two hundred feet. 
 It is curious but not agreeable. 
 
 Accordingly I always treat such sorts of contrivances very re- 
 spectfully, and in fact all things which are not capable of under- 
 standing reason. It resulted from this tliut being (piite unfamiliar with 
 the macliinery employed by M. Zeiii, the director of the manufactory 
 of Cosne, I stopped on the threshold to make myself accjuainted witli 
 the locality. 
 
 I have rarely beheld anything mure darkly poetic than that great 
 building, the extremities of which it was impossible to see, and wiiich 
 was only lighted by the flames of the two forges then in use. The 
 ever changing fire which rose from the furnaces, gave its colours to 
 the circles which it formed around it, and clothed the men and objects 
 included within these circles in tiie most fantastic of hues, from a 
 brilliant red, down to a jjale blue. From time to time as the liâmes 
 api)eared to die away, a red-liot iron was drawn frojn the white 
 embers, and j)laced by means of enornmus pincers on a colossal anvil, 
 wliere five or six hamnurs fell upon it in cadence. At each blow 
 that was struck, clusters of K])arks darted forlh illuminating the 
 innermost darkness of these endh-ss vaults like lightning. Then, 
 and for only a second, one could see unheard of instruments in oper- 
 ation, gigantic, and in form resembling some unknown (ish of an 
 undiscovered sea: during the ])eriods of darkness, one could only 
 laar the grating noise which these produced. Some of them like
 
 DOCTOR M . 31 
 
 giants' scissors opened their jaws of steel, and each time tlicy i iosed 
 cut through bars of iron of the tliickness of one's thigh, as if they 
 had been pieces of straw. Others, resembling elephants, let down a 
 mass of chains in order to draw up enormous weights; others again, 
 the form and olijcct of which, it was equally impossible to tell, were 
 at work mysteriously in the dark by themselves, like mulefactors, who 
 seek concealment for tlie commission of some crime. M. Zeni invited 
 us to come in and look at his metallic menagerie more closely, and 
 also to see the last stroke given to the mistress anchor of La iJridde, 
 who was waiting for it at Kochfort. This anchor weighed more than 
 nine thousand ])ounds. I felt obliged to take some more advwitures 
 in this cave of Polyphemus. 
 
 AVe were wandering in its depths when M. Zeni called us : they 
 were about to melt a cauldron full of metal ; we placed oui'selves 
 neai' some sand, into which the burning liquid was to run, the two 
 forges went out one after the other, and the workmen approached 
 on each side. The darkness became more profound, and soon the 
 manufactory received no light, except from the glowing orifice of 
 the cauldron. The master founder commenced the attack Avith a 
 pair of pincers, and after the third or fourth blow the obstacle 
 which kept back the metal was removed, and like a stream of lava 
 it poured forth in large bubbles from the sides of the furnace, and 
 stretched itself out like an immense serpent of flame, over a length of 
 from sixty to eighty feet. One of the workmen told me, that one 
 day a companion of his, whose attention was being diverted at 
 the time by his neighbour, and who did not follow the progress of 
 the operation, was overtaken hj the metal in fusion. The unfortunate 
 man gave a shriek, and fell down like a broken tree; both his feet 
 were cut off above the ankle. As for the absent members, a search 
 was made for them in the lava, but it had completely devoured them, 
 and no vestige remained. 
 
 At the end of this story I reminded Jadin, that the half-hour 
 which our host had required for the preparation of our supjjer had 
 more than expired, and we wished M. Zeni good-bye, leaving our 
 compliments for each of his machines. 
 
 Coming back we saw a number of groups in the streets; Cosnc 
 appeared to be in quite an unnatural state of agitation. Every pro- 
 vincial town of good life and manners should be in bed at nine ; it 
 was now nearly ten, and all the shops in the street were open, all the 
 inhabitants in the streets. AVe inquired the cause of such an ex- 
 traordinary sensation, and found out that Dr. ]\I , the same 
 
 man who was accused of having poisoned his wife and daughter, had 
 just committed suicide in prison by opening the crui'al artery. This
 
 39 THE SOUrn OF FRANCE. 
 
 news restored Cosne to our good opinion, for surely such an event 
 was a sufficient cause for a town of six thousand inhabitants reniaiu- 
 ing awake half an hour later than usual. 
 
 On coming hack to the hotel we found Ambroise II , who 
 
 had heard of our arrival, and was waiting for us. We invited him 
 to partake of our supi)er, but the sight of the dead body of Dr. 
 
 M , the identity of which he had just been called on by the 
 
 authorities to establish, had taken away his appetite. 
 
 We asked him afterwards by what chance he found himself 
 mixed up as a witness in this horrible aflair, and he then told us one 
 of those strange histories in which all the bizarre effects of human 
 perversity and human weakness are set forth. 
 
 Dr. M lived in a village at two or three leagues dis- 
 tance from the estate of Ambroise ; they had been intimate a long 
 time, were almost school-fiUows, and saw each other as often as the 
 distance and their res})ective occupations would peiinit. 
 
 The doctor had married a young girl from the neighbourhood 
 who had brought him a portion of about a hundred thousand francs 
 which was given to him bj- tlie marriage contract in ease of her 
 dying without children. At the end of ten months the young woman 
 was confined with a child, and the doctor appeared equally delighted 
 as a husband and a father. 
 
 Three years glided by. All at once it was said abroad that Ma- 
 dame M had died suddenly. Every one rushed to the house 
 
 of the dead, as is customary in the provinces ; the husband was found 
 in despair; he was embracing his daughter, and said that she alone 
 could now enable him to sujiport lil'e. 
 
 Tliree montlis afterwards the child fell sick in its turn, and, in 
 Bpite of the attention lavished upon it by its father, died. For three 
 more months no one, for ten leagues round, spoke of anything but 
 
 the misfortunes of the ])oor Dr. M . lie was a long time before 
 
 appearing even at the houses of his best friends, and when ho was 
 seen again, every one considered him terribly altered. For the rest 
 the interest which every one took in him was very profitable to him : 
 in less than a year his practice had doubl(>d. 
 
 It was nearly eighteen months since Dr. M had lost his own 
 
 wife, wli' II Anihroise's wife was on the point of being confined. Am- 
 broise immediately mounted a horse and rode in the greatest haste for 
 
 Dr. M . Dr. M — also mounted his horse and came back with 
 
 Ambroise to Marsilly. It was about two o'clock in tlie atler- 
 noon. 
 
 At seven in tlie evening Ambroiso's wife was confined of a pretty 
 little girl. On seeing the child Dr. M almost fainted, it
 
 BOCTOR M . 33 
 
 was thouglit that this sight had recalled his own loss to the po-ir 
 father, and that the joy of his friend had redoubled his own grief. 
 
 At dinner the doctor scarcely ate anything. At nine o'clock 
 Ambroise's servant, who had received the order in the course of the 
 day from the doctor himself, saddled the doctor's horse, and announced 
 to him that when he wished to return home everything was ready 
 for him. 
 
 The doctor rose and almost immediately sat down again, turning 
 at the same time very pale. Ambroise noticed this, and took his hand. 
 His hand was cold, notwithstanding which lai-ge drops of persjnration 
 were rolling down his forehead. Ambroise asked him what Mas the 
 matter ; the doctor smiled, and said it was nothing. Ambroise also 
 had heard his friend say how necessary it was foi- him to return home 
 the same evening, and invited him, somewhat undecidedly, to pass the 
 night at Marsilly. Tlic doctor took some steps towards the door, but 
 ^^ hen he reached the threshold he stojjped and, falling back, said — 
 
 " Yes, I will stay." 
 
 " Po you feel unwell ?" asked Ambroise. 
 
 " No, but I am frightened," replied the physician. 
 
 At this strange answer Ambroise looked his friend in the face. 
 He had known him for twenty years, and had known him to be a 
 brave man. A hundred times in the course of the year his patients 
 called him fi'om home at all hours of the day and night, and he had 
 never shown the least sign of weakness or fear ; though certainly, 
 since the death of his wife, several of his patients had complained 
 that when they had required him during the night, although the 
 cases were urgent, he had always found means under different pre- 
 texts not to go when he was wanted. Ambroise recollected these 
 complaints, and remembering besides that there Avas a wood to cross 
 at a quarter of a league's distance from Marsilly, he offered either to 
 have him accompanied, or to lend him his pistols in case he feared 
 being stopped. But the doctor shook his head and repeated twice 
 over — 
 
 " It is not that ! It is not that ! " 
 
 Ambroise who required nothing better than that he should remain 
 in case his wife might require fi-esh attention, did not press the point 
 any more, and gave his servant orders to prepare a bed for his guest. 
 The doctor then asked him whether he should have any objection to 
 the bed being made up in his own bedroom. Ambroise having no 
 reason to oppose this, consented. He then just went to his wife, 
 found that she was asleep, desired that he might be awoke in case 
 anything occuiTcd, and, leaving her in charge of the nurse who was 
 attending her, came back to the room where he liad left the doctor. 
 
 D
 
 34 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 He found him walking about in an ajj^itated manner and taking 
 enormous steps, but at the moment he did not pay any particulai- 
 attention to this. Taking up one of the lights which had been 
 burning all the evening he invited the doctor to take the other, aiid 
 went with him into the bedroom, where, in accordance with the re- 
 quest of the doctor, both were to pass the night. 
 
 Ambroisc got into bed and blew the light out. The doctor also 
 went to bed, but left the light burning. Ambroise soon fell asleep. 
 
 In the middle of the night he wius awoke by groans. E.xcept by 
 n faint moonbeam whicli pierced through the blind and cast a feeble 
 gleam of light on a portion of liis bed, all the room was in darkness, 
 lie thought at first that he had mistaken some dream for a reality, 
 but the groans recommenced — tlicv proceeded from the doctor's 
 bed. 
 
 " Is that you moaning so, Louis ?" iiiquiied Ambroise. A fresh 
 sigh was the only answer to this question. 
 
 " Are you in pain ?" he continued, but a species of .sob was all the 
 inquiry produced. 
 
 " I say ! Are you awake or asleep ?" asked Ambroise, with a cer- 
 tain impatience, as he got up in the bed ! 
 
 " I am awake," replied the doctor ; for the last eighteen months I 
 have not .slejjt." 
 
 " "What do you mean ?" inquired Ambroise. 
 
 " Listen ! It has been stiHi;ig me too long. 1 must tell you all, 
 or it will be my death." 
 
 ""What! are you mad?" said Ambroise. "What can you have 
 to tell me ?" 
 
 " Wait," said the doctor. " It must be told in a low voice." 
 
 In the voice of his companion there was a tone so profoundly 
 deep, that Ambroisc felt all his limbs shudder ; he looked underneath 
 the tuble for a match, but the doctor hearing him move, and guessing 
 lii.s intention, cried out — 
 
 " No, no ! no light, or I will not s])eak !" 
 
 At the same time Ambroise heard him come down from Iiis bed, 
 Kiiw him go to tlie window and draw the curtain, so as to intercept 
 the moonbeam which fell ujjon the bed, after which lie heard him 
 feeling liis way towards his pillow. He stielched out his hand, and 
 it met (hat of the doctor. The doctor's hand was as icy as a hand of 
 marble, and at the samo time covered with persijinition. Ambroise 
 wished to withdraw liis own, but the doctor retained it with so much 
 force, prcKHcd his lips to it, and at the same time fell on his knees. 
 
 " What, in the name of heaven, is the matter?" cried Ambrose. 
 
 ' I)() you suspect nothing?" asked tlic doctor.
 
 rOCTOR M . 35 
 
 " What do you imagine I should suspect ?" 
 
 " Do you not suspect tliat he who now holds your hand, who is on 
 his knees, close to your bed, is a wretch, a villain, a murderer — worse 
 than all that even — a poisoner ?" 
 
 Ambroise made so violent a movement that he drew his hand 
 back in spite of the firmness with which the doctor held it. 
 
 " Wretch!" he cried, " and wliy conic and tell me that, who forced 
 you to do so ?" 
 
 "Who forces me? IIow do I know myself? Is it God, is it 
 I'emorse, is it my wife, is it my child ?" And he pronounced these 
 last words in an almost extinguished voice. Ambroise shi-unk to the 
 other side of the bed with horror. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I terrify j^ou, do I not ? But no matter. I must tell 
 all; it stifles me. When I have told everything I shall feel relieved 
 
 Ambroise, I have poisoned my wife ! — Ambroise, I have poisoned 
 
 my daughter ! " 
 
 Ambroise raised his two hands to heaven, and could only pro- 
 nounce these words, " Oh, my God, my God !" 
 
 " No one knew it, no one had any suspicion of it, no one would 
 ever have had any, but I have found my accuser within myself; at 
 each moinent the fatal secret is on my lips. Without doubt it was 
 some great criminal who first instituted the confessional, for it was 
 apparent to me that if 1 confessed my crime I should find solace. 
 This morning when you came for me I thought of you, it appeared to 
 me a warning from heaven, and from that moment I was decided. 
 It is true that for a moment I failed, and that I was on the point of 
 going away. If it had been daylight I would have gone, but it was 
 
 night, and at night" The doctor stretched liis hand out and 
 
 seized that of Ambroise, " And at nfght," ho continued, " I am 
 frightened." 
 
 " But why do you come and tell all these frightful things to me 
 I am not a priest, and cannot absolve you." 
 
 " But you are my friend, and can console me." 
 
 " Well, listen then," said Ambroise, approaching him ; " I am 
 going then to spcalc to you as a friend, and not as a priest, since it 
 is advice, and not absolution, that you ask for." 
 
 " Speak, speak ! " 
 
 " One day or other your crime will be discovered. (The doctor 
 shuddered). It will be the scaffold, the prison, or perhaps worse — 
 tlie hulks. You have a father and a sister ; your father will be dis- 
 honoured, your sister Avill be despised by every one. Take my pistols, 
 and go and blow your brains out in the corner of the wood of Mar- 
 sil'iy. I will accompany you there, and will bring back the weapons. 
 
 ^ u 2
 
 36 THE SOrril OF FRANCE. 
 
 To-morrow it will be said that you have been attacked by robbers 
 and assassinated." 
 
 "And if, at the moment, my courage should fail, and 1 wound 
 without killing myself." 
 
 " Then write on a piece of paper that you are your own destroyer, 
 place it beneath your ])ilIow, and if you fail — why, I will complete 
 tlie work." 
 
 The doctor uttered a groan, let go the hand of Ambroise, and fe 
 back. 
 
 " After a moment's silence Ambroise said, 
 
 " Well, I see you are a coward ! Go to bed, and say no more 
 about it.'' 
 
 " And and- -nothing of what I have confessed to you shall 
 
 ever come out of your mouth ?" 
 
 " ^^'rctch!" muttered Ambroise, " do you take me foi- a scoundrel 
 like yourself?" 
 
 The doctor crawled on his knees to bed. Ambroise left the room, 
 and went into his wife's ciiamber. 
 
 Tile next day he asked what had liccome of the doctor, and was 
 told that hi' had gone away at daybreak. 
 
 It was si.\ months before he saw him again. At the end of that 
 period he learnt that tlie doctor had been arrested on suspicion of 
 liaving poisoned his wile and daughter. The doctor's servant who 
 lodged altove him, astonished to hear him walking about, going to bed, 
 and getting up again instead of sleeping, came down stairs one 
 night, looked through the keyhole, saw his master on liis knees in 
 the middle of the room, and licard him ask for ))ardon from his wife 
 aiul child. This servant was one who had come from his father-in- 
 law's, and who was very much attached to his old master, lie re- 
 lated everything to the old man, who was left entirely without I'amily 
 by the dealli of his daugiiter and griind-daughter. The old man had 
 liad ins sus])icions. liut lluse suspicions had disajjjjcared lor want 
 of jjroof. lie luid ceased to visit his son-in-law, and that was all. 
 lie was isolated and dying like a tree withering away in a corner, 
 wlien the tale of his old servant served to wake up his former doulits. 
 He asked the servant if he could let him hear and see for himsilf 
 that wiiicli he had witnessed : the servant re])lie(l that nothing 
 eouM be more easy; liuit he would cmicenl him in his room, and 
 as the same thing was re])eated every night, he would only Jiave to 
 observe and listen in order to see and hear in his own turn that 
 whi<'li lie hud seen and heaid. 
 
 Tlie plan was caiiiid out accordin;,' to liie arrangemcni. The 
 old man, convinced more by the paline.ss of tiie murderer than by
 
 DOCTOR M 
 
 37 
 
 his words, went the same nijjht to the Procureur da Hoi, and made 
 liis deposition. 
 
 The next day the doctor was taken into custody. 
 
 He had scarcely been arrested, when he acknowledf^ed every- 
 thing, and narrated himself the scene which had taken place at 
 Marsillj', telling the judge, as he had already told Ambroise, that a 
 moment had arrived at which he felt so much the necessity of speak- 
 ing, that, influenced by a superior force, he had confessed everything. 
 
 Ambroise had next been summoned to appear as a witness, and 
 had come to Cosne to give his evidence. 
 
 He would have been examined the next day, had not the doctor 
 opened his crural artery, as we have already stated. 
 
 Freed from the obligation which he had imposed upon himself, he 
 could from tluit time relate what had taken place. For the rest, wo 
 were the first who heard this strange story. Ambroise, up to that 
 time, had not breathed a word of it, even to his wife. 
 
 It will be imagined that there was no talk of our shooting on the 
 following day ; besides, Ambroise was obliged to i-emain ^t Cosne to 
 make his depositions. 
 
 Consequently we took leave of him the same evening, and went 
 away at daybreak towards La Charité, where we purposed making a 
 halt of a couple of hours. 
 
 Lil CBARITZ. 
 
 146017
 
 Tim sr." tmh ui iiu "n:n». 
 
 ciiArri'.ii IV 
 
 CIU.NK.SK CUIIIDSI 1 IKS, 
 
 rr: 
 
 lu»» <jr M iTITMUIkKIIlt 
 
 "W 
 
 I'i stopped the cnrriiigc oj)- 
 l)i)site tlie cliurch, which has 
 never been fiiiislicd, and is, 
 nevertheless, a ruin; then wo 
 went on foot to M. Onissel, 
 for wlioni I liiid a hater of 
 introthietioM. 
 
 M. Gnisset is one of those 
 pood and amiable mirtins 
 who, with a holy i)alienee, 
 employ lialf their life in 
 forming,' cnie of theHC private 
 collections which wovildolten
 
 CIIIXESE CUKIOSITIES. .-?!) 
 
 do honour to the museum of a. great town; and spend the otlier hi 
 doing the honours to those importunate persons who come to them 
 with introductions from unknown persons who had no right to give 
 them, but to which the courteous archix-ologist pays as much atten- 
 tion as if they came from friends. 'J'his was not the case with us; 
 for we went to M. Grasset with an introduction from IJaron Taylor, 
 and the first thing he did was to force us to breakfast with him. 
 
 After breakfast, as the weather brightened for an instant, leaving 
 us, however, reason to fear rain for the remainder of the day, M. 
 Grasset did us the honours of the town so celebrated in the time of 
 the " roturiers," and during the wars of the league, and which owes 
 its name to the sums given away in charity by its founders. It 
 retains nothing belonging to the middle ages, except a castle in 
 ruins, part of a rampart, and the church. We visited all these in 
 half an hour; and as we had now seen all that was to be seen at 
 I,a Charité, wc re-entered M. Grasset's house, pursued by the first 
 drops of that rain with which we had been threatened since the 
 morning. It was just the weather for collections of curiosities, and 
 accordingly we Avent upstairs to M. Grasset's museum. 
 
 I confess that I expected to see one of those poor collections met 
 with in provincial towns, with three or four stuffed fish hanging 
 from the ceiling ; but I was agreeably surprised to find in the very 
 first room magnificent vases by Bernard de Palissy, and a complete 
 collection of stones and minerals from Mount Sinai — a collection which, 
 probably, could not be found in the Paris Museum of Natural History. 
 Unfortunately, I was not sufficiently learned in mineralogy to api)reciate 
 it properly ; accordingly I turned to a quantity of objects of the middle 
 ages, and above all some locks and keys, which were carved with a 
 taste and skill that would have done honour to Benvcnuto Cellini. 
 
 In tliis manner we went thi-()u;j;h four or five rooms successively, 
 which were filled with curious objects, the majority of wldch had been 
 procured for M. Grasset by one of his friends, a learned and brave sea- 
 captain, who had sailed round the world I don't know how many times, 
 and who had arrived from China about a fortnight or three weeks pre- 
 viously, bringing with him a most singular example, not of the intel- 
 lect, but of the patience of the worshippers of the Great Dragon. 
 
 Amongst the different pairs of tiousers which the captain had 
 had made for him before leaving Paris, there was one which wa? 
 considered a master-piece : it was one of those miracles which some- 
 times issue from the establishments of Huniann or Vaudeau, and 
 which envelop the boots, indicate the calf, abolish the knee, mark 
 the thigh, and deny tire existence of corporation. Accordingly, 
 thanks to the predilection which the owner entertained for them,
 
 40 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 the trousers, after having flourished along the coast, at the Cape of 
 Good Hope, and tlie Isle of France, arrived at Canton, nearly worn 
 out. Nevertheless, owing to that fashionable cut which notliing, not 
 even the fact of being new, can supply the place of, they still looked 
 very well, when the sailor, who served as the captain's valet, let 
 fall half the oil contained in a lamp which he was cleaning on to the 
 middle of the thigh of the unfortunatt; pair. 
 
 In spite of his pliilosopliy, this blow had such an effect upon the 
 captain, that he had not quite recovered from it when one of his 
 Canton associates came as usual to smoke a pipe of opium with him. 
 He found him in such a state of vexation tliat he feared some great 
 misfortune must have happened to him, and accordingly he inquired 
 what had taken place to alter his habitual good humour. The cap- 
 tain showed him the unfortunate trousers, which he had now thrown 
 aside : — " There !" said he, "just look ! The very pair you were com- 
 lilimcnting me on yesterday !" 
 
 The friend took the trousers, and turned them about with the 
 most annoying calmness. When he was (juite convinced that they 
 could not be worn again, he observed: — 
 
 " Well, you must have anotlier pair made." 
 
 "Another pair made!" answered the captain. "And who's to 
 make another pair — some of your Chinese fellows ?" 
 
 " Certainly, some of my Chinese fellows !" returned the friend 
 with imperturbable coolness. 
 
 "Yes, and get a sack sent to me, made in their regular style!" 
 continued tlie captain, shrugging his shoulders." 
 
 "They won't make you a sack," said the other; "and if you only 
 give them their model upon which you want them ni;ule, they will 
 turn you out a \ydir of trousers that Vaudeuu would u'l know from 
 his own." 
 
 " Ilcally," said the captain. 
 
 " Upon my honour," assured the friend. 
 
 " Well, I have heard hundreds of times of the fidelity of tlie 
 Chinese in imitation." 
 
 "And all that you have heard U])<)n the subject bus been less 
 tl'.aii the truth." 
 
 " IJv heaven, yrtn make me anxious (o try them !" 
 
 "])o trv, especially as it won't cost you nuuli. IIow mncb did 
 you pay for those trousers?" 
 
 " i-'ilty-five or «ixty fruiies, 1 don't cpiite rem<nib( r." 
 
 " Well, you can see what they 're capable of doing here for lift ecu." 
 ".•\nd what tailor muHt I lake them to?" 
 
 "The first you come to. .Mine, if you like; he lives at the gate."
 
 CHINESE CURIOSITIES. 41 
 
 Tlu' cai)tiuii rolls his trousers under his arm, follows his friciul, 
 and arrives at the tailor's. 
 
 "Now," said the friend, explain what you want, and I will trans- 
 late your \\'ords to him. 
 
 The captain did not want twice speakinj;; to. lie spread out the 
 trousers, pointed out their cut, and ended by saying that he wanted 
 a jiair exactly like them. The friend translated the order, and laid 
 great stress on the directions. 
 
 " Very well, said the tailor, " in three days the gentleman shall 
 have what ho wants." 
 
 " What does he say ?" asked the captain impatiently. 
 
 " lie says you shall have what you desire in three days." 
 
 " Three days ! That's a long time," says the captain. 
 
 The friend translated the captain's remark to the Chinese, who 
 looked at the trousers again, shook his head, and said a few words 
 in reply to the interpreter. 
 
 " Well?" asked the captain. 
 
 " He says there's a great deal of work to do, and that three days 
 arc not too long in order to have it properly done." 
 
 " Well, three days, then ; but don't let him break his word." 
 
 " Oh," as for that, there is no fear. In three days, at the exact 
 time, he'll be at your house." And the two friends went away, re- 
 peating their directions to the artist for the last time. 
 
 Three days afterwards, as the captain and his friend were 
 smoking their pipe of opium, the domestic opened the door, and 
 announced the tailor. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said the captain. " Well, let us see if he is as 
 skilful as he is punctual. 
 
 " There they are," said the tailor. 
 
 "Let's try them," said the captain, as he took the trousers from 
 the hands of the tailor, put them on, and, in order to be certain that 
 they fitted well, told the tailor to draw up the blinds. 
 
 " Why, they fit wonderfully," said the friend. 
 
 "I should think so," said the captain : "he has given me my old pair. 
 But where are the others, you stupid ?" he exclaimed to the Chinese. 
 
 The friend translated the remark to the tailor, ^\•ho gave the 
 other pair with a triumi)hant look. 
 
 The captain changed the trousers. 
 
 " Well, I must be mad !" said the captain. This pair now seems 
 to be mine. Where can the new ones be ?" 
 
 The friend expressed the captain's doubts to tlie tailor, who held 
 out the trousers upon which he had just finished operating. 
 " Well, here is the new pair," said the friend.
 
 iZ THE SOUTH OK FRANCE. 
 
 " No ! can't you sec they are the old ones ?" replied the captain. 
 " Why, hang it, there's the spot of grease !"' 
 
 " And there 's one on the pair you have on as well !'' 
 
 " AVhat fool's vit can this be ?" 
 
 The friend turned to the Ciiinese, questioned him, and, upon 
 beai-ing his reply, biu-st into a shout of laugliter. 
 
 " Well ?" said the captain. 
 
 '•"Well," said the friend, " what did you order from this good man ?" 
 
 " I ordered a pair of trousers." 
 
 " Like your own."' 
 
 "Yes, like my own." 
 
 " "Well, he has made them so like that you can't tell the differ- 
 ence, that's all. But he tells me that his greatest trouble has been 
 to wear them out, and spot them in exactly the same places ; and 
 that he must charge you live francs extra, because he failed with two 
 pair before coming to a satisfoctorj- result ; now, however, he defies 
 you to distinguish one pair from the other. You must allow that 
 that's well worth twenty francs." 
 
 " Indeed it is," replied the captain, as he drew a Xapoleon from 
 his ])ocket, and gave it to the Chinese. 
 
 The Chinese thanked him, and asked for tlic captain's custom as 
 long as he remained in Canton, although, he added, if ho always had 
 such difficult work given him, there would be nothing gained by it. 
 
 From that day the captain could never tell one pair of trousers 
 from the other, so much were they alike. He brought them both 
 back to France as specimens of Chinese industry, and had promised 
 to make a present of them to M. Grasset. If he kept bis word they 
 must be far from being tlie hast interesting things in the collection. 
 
 About noon we left M. Grasset's, and three hoiu's afterwards 
 were at Xcvers. We only stopped there sufficient time to sec the 
 tliree great curiosities of tlie jjlace : — the Gate of Croux, by which 
 the unfortunate Gerard de Nevers re-entered the town ; the Convent 
 (if the Visitandines, where Vert- Vert lies entombed; and Saint 
 Etienne, a lioman churcli of tlic eighth or ninth century. 
 
 There is u fourth, wliieh we discovered b}- chance, and wliich is 
 well worth mentioning: it is a sun-dial, ])ainted on the middle of 
 the faradc of the Ducal Palace, and beiuatli wliich the painter has 
 written with naUvle the three following lines: — 
 
 "This SuN-niAt was fokmki) at Nkvkiis, 
 
 AH TIIK Sr.V WAS KNTKIiINO TUK HION OF CaI'HICOKN, 
 IJV OltDKIl OK TIIK NaTIOXAI, CoN VI..NT1().N." 
 
 T! I s:r,iic night wc arrived at Moulins.
 
 CHINESE CURIOSrriKS, 
 
 43 
 
 A few hours in tlie morning sufficed us to see the town, whicli, 
 apart from the peasant girls' caps shaped like hunting horns, 
 presents nothing remarkable, if we except a bible of the thirteen tli 
 century, to be seen in the town libraiy, and the tomb of Henri de Mont- 
 morency, which rises from the choir of the church belonging to the col- 
 lege : this is the sarcophagus of that same Henri de Montmorency who 
 was decapitated at Toulouse by order of Cardinal de Kichelieu. 
 
 This tomb, surmounted by figures couchant of tlie duke and 
 duchess, and contaiidng their hearts in an urn of black marble, which 
 is supported by two funereal cupids, was fn danger at the time of the 
 revolution of being destroyed by the people. The blow of a hatchet, 
 of which the trace is still visible, had already made its mark on the 
 marble, when a passing voice cried out: " AVhat are you going to do, 
 citizens?" Montmorency was a brave sans-culotte, who was guil- 
 lotined by order of a tyrant, because he was conspiring against the 
 ccihtbts. " Vice Montinoroicy .'" cried the people ; and the tomb Avas 
 respected. 
 
 m 
 
 
 i-f ; !;■ '■ 
 
 
 '' —- ^^^^ ■^- "^^ ^— 
 
 It UF CRUt X.
 
 CAITTLE or BOlailON-L'AllCHiSIUM'LT 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 P,()n;iU)N-T, AKCn AMIiAl'I.T. 
 
 T two o'clock in the nftcr- 
 iioon we left for Siiuvii,'ny. 
 the churoli ot" whiih we litul 
 heard very imieli praised. 
 At four o'llock we arrived 
 at tliis villa<;e, and there 
 was just euoufjli daylif^ht 
 reinainiuf^ for us to visit 
 
 till'*' f^lAÏll^ '^ÊÊF'- 'l'"t edifice. Itisamaj;- 
 
 <||B^ ^umR,8i' ^^ .-.^ „i,i^.^,„^ huihlin-, half of 
 ' ■* " •■-" tlic tw.lftli, Imlf of the 
 
 lifleeiitli century, in wliicli 
 llic(iothicstyhMscu>,Maftcd 
 on tlic llonian. Two superb 
 t(iin])s. oneof tlie year 1 i:5(), 
 tlie otl\er of H7(), arc I'ound 
 in the side cha])cls, from 
 wliich the choir can he seen 
 f hrouj,'!» a lace- work of Htone. ()nc< of these tombs is that of Charles 
 of Hourhon and A^ik-h of Hurf,nin(ly. dau-hter of Charles the Bold; 
 the other contains the bones of the ^«""1 J»»'^^' I'""'^ ^'- '""^ ''^'^ ^^''^^• 
 
 CMI'KCn 01 ItVTIOMT.
 
 P.OURr.ON-I.'ARCIIAMIîArLT. 45 
 
 Tlic figures rccliniiii,'- on inarble slabs i)rcscnt that appearance of 
 simple grandeur which is the unniistakuble stamp of the sculpture 
 of this epoch. At the opposite extremity of the church, close to a 
 Byzantine has- relief of the nintli or tenth century, is a gigantic 
 staircase, which leads to a magnificent organ. 
 
 We were examining all this with that archœological interest 
 which those who do not partake in it can never understand, and in 
 which the architects, above all, have appeared to us sti-angely want- 
 ing, when the curate advanced towards us with that polite friend- 
 liness peculiar to men of the world, who have only to exchange a 
 glance in order to be aware that they belong to the same family. 
 He had guessed at first, from our luggage, that we must be artists. 
 Our carriage had for an instant given him some doubts on the subject ; 
 but on coming into the church he found Jadin, pencil in hand, and 
 his opinion was then fixed. He came to invite us home to his house, 
 and the invitation was given with so much good grace, and accom- 
 panied with entreaties so natural to an unfortunate Parisian in exile, 
 — there was, in fine, so much frank cordiality in his words, that v. e 
 accepted it, and followed him to his domicile. 
 
 We were introduced into a room, the shelves and tables of which 
 were full of the works of our modern authors, and of albums enriched 
 by the drawings of our best painters. Some portraits of contem- 
 porarj' men were hanging from the walls. I recognised my own by 
 the side of Lamartine and Victor Hugo, and I confess that, inde- 
 pendently of the honour of such society, I felt happy at having been 
 preceded by my likeness in the hermitage which we were visiting. 
 It was there that M. de Chambon, which was the name of our host, 
 fancied he recognised me. Having no motive for keeping an incog- 
 nito, for I was neither a prince nor a dancer, I at once acknowledged 
 my identity. Ten minutes afterwards we were all in a di-awing- 
 room in the Faubourg St. Germain. 
 
 I know of no recreation more agreeable in the country, after the 
 thoughts of Parisian life have been for a longtime shut up within 
 one's own breast, with one's literarj^ friendships and objects of special 
 admiration (from the want, not only of sympathetic minds who can 
 understand you, but also of such memories as can retain other names 
 besides those which are forgotten), — I know of no recreation more 
 agreeable than that of discovering, by means of some electric word, 
 that you have at last found a man amongst the animated vegetation 
 which surrounds you. Then your heart swells with joy, all your 
 reminiscences present themselves at once, they are on youi- lips all at 
 the same time, and at last rush out simultaneously and in confusion, 
 like the poor children who arc kept in school all the week, and to
 
 46 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 ^vhom the prison doors are opened on Sunday. Then your conversa- 
 tion IS without eonncction, without ruk>: you quote the titles ot 
 books, and notliinjj more. It is only when you are quite certain 
 that you are creatures of the same species, experiencing the same 
 sensations in presence of the same objects, reproducing these sensa- 
 tions by similar words, and forming identical opinions, that you put 
 something like order into the conversation ; you then proceed to 
 periods, and conclude with arguments. 
 
 This is what liappened with us at the end of ten minutes. M. 
 de Chambon knew all the modern authors by their works, but none 
 of them personally, and we passed an hour in pointing out to him 
 resemblances between the men and their productions. The uncon- 
 scious men whose qualities wc were illustrating were brought belbre 
 us at our will, each in his turn to the little corner where their 
 phantoms were being summoned. Vd'v threw a purple nuxntlc over 
 the shoulders of some ; others we sent away stripped of everything. 
 Suddenly formed into a conclave, we played with sceptres and 
 crowns, we deposed emperors, and created new ones ; and, perhaps, 
 some of those whom we elected will be one day consecrated. 
 
 \Ve were interrupted bj- the announcement, so agreeable to tra- 
 vellers, that dinner was ready, our host's entertainment having been 
 improvised with that wonderful facility of resources which the 
 country oilers. The first course, it nmst be confessed, ])ut an end to 
 the conversation ; it assumed some sort of form during the second; 
 Ijut was not in thorough action until the desert. 
 
 Without losing its artistic character, it socnud to have, at the 
 .same time, taken a religious tendency. M. de Chambon belonged to 
 the young Catholic school, and consequently there wa.s complete 
 harmony between our social opinions. Instead of complaining, as 
 many do, that faith and piety were becoming extinct, he perceived 
 in all minds a wonderful disposition towards the sj)irit of the Catholic 
 ideas, and that gave him hojje, both as a ]niest and an artist; for 
 the centuries of belief arc always those which liave jiroduced great 
 and, above all, complete works. 
 
 Wliy are the cliurclies of the fifteenth century so admirable? 
 Hecause in tlieir details, and as wholes, they are in harmony with the 
 niy.stericH wliicli they are destined to sie performecl. Tlius the two 
 turrets which rise from each side of the front represented tlie two 
 arm» wliich the (Christian lifts to heavi-ii in prayer; the twelve 
 chai)elH extending from left to rigiit were ecpml in number to that of 
 the apostles; the lloman cross formed by tiie columns which pus- 
 lained the jioreh was made after the image of that of Golgotha; the 
 ciu/ir inclined a little more to llie right th;;n to the left, because
 
 BOURBON-L ARCIIAMBAULT. 47 
 
 Cluist leaned his head upon his rii;ht shoulder while dying; to con- 
 clude, tlu'ce windows gave theii- liglit to the tabernacle, because the 
 Godhead is composed of three persons, and because all light is from 
 God. Now Avhat man, however irreligious, can cross the threshold of 
 Notre-Dame, and continue the frivolous conversation of the street in 
 this wonderful cathedral ? No, he uncovers his head, and speaks in 
 a low voice, he knows not why. It is because the grand Catholic 
 setitiment, which has presided at the construction of that edifice, has 
 moved all his senses at the same time, and penetrated to his heart. 
 
 AVe had got so far in our conversation, when a man entered, and 
 whispered to our host, who rose iuimediately. " Gentlemen," said he 
 with a smile, " let us go and finish this conversation in a more 
 inspiring place : you have seen my church by day, come and see it 
 by night." 
 
 We followed him immediately. It was a beautiful moonlight 
 night ; the heavens were looking down upon earth with eyes of fire. 
 A profound calmness had come with the evening, and the first sleep 
 of natui'c was undisturbed by any noise. 
 
 We entered the church, the door shut behind us, and we at first 
 thought that we should be unable to distinguish anything in the 
 darkness, such had been the effect in our eyes of the soft, limpid 
 light with which they had just been filled. However, after taking a 
 few steps, we perceived that the choir was illuminated, although we 
 could not sec the torches from which the light jjrocccded, marked as 
 it was by the dark shadow of the altar, with its cross, its tabernacle, 
 and its flameless candles. As for the opposite side, Avith the stair- 
 case and the Byzantine bas-relief, it was plunged in such darkness 
 that my gaze became lost in its shadows long before reaching the 
 walls. From place to place the large arched Avindows, through 
 which shone the rays of the moon, cast their resplendent reflections 
 on the gray marbles, with their mosaic work, rcpi-escnting saints with 
 lialos of gold, and robes of red and blue. Sometimes a gleam of light 
 would shine on some column, leaving its base and capital in darkness, 
 and rendering visible onlj- that part which immediately received the 
 light. At tliis moment, at the opposite extremity of the chui-ch, 
 which, as I have said before, was plunged in obscurity, a man ap- 
 peared. He bore a torch, (whicli, spreading its light in a circle 
 around it, drove back the darkness to the depths on either side,) and 
 commenced ascending the immense staircase. By degi-ees, as he 
 ascended, the dark shadows regained their domain, and followed after 
 him, like Death in the pursuit of Life. He soon disappeared, turn- 
 ing to the left behind a pillar, and little by little the light disap- 
 ptiu-cd along the walls, and all was again night. Suddenly, in the
 
 4< THE SOiril OV TRANCE. 
 
 midst of tliis silence and darkness, a loud voice resounded : it wus 
 the organ, the sounds of which rushiny; one upon the other like the 
 waves of a sea of harmony, passed over our heads, and extendin<;: to 
 the furthermost dej)ths of the cathedral, at last broke upon its walls. 
 At the same instant human to!us were heard, married to this won- 
 drous music, and the Stubat Mater of Pergolèse rose upwards in 
 sadness to heaven. 
 
 I am i{,'norant of the effect which this profoundly I'cligious scene 
 produced upon my com])anions. For myself, I reached the chapel of 
 the Duke Louis II., -svhieh was in complete darkness; leaned on the 
 monument where, according to the touching custom of those poetical 
 ages which made the tomb a second nuptial couch, he is sleeping by 
 the side of his wife ; and gave myself up to the intluence of tlie 
 thrilling harmony. I then understood th'; ecstacy, the rapture, of tlie 
 visions of the cloister, and, like Juad, felt ready to prophecy a new 
 Jerusalem, 
 
 Let those who disbelieve, listen at niidiiiirht to the groans of the 
 organ, and the sobs of the Stuhat JLdci: 
 
 I was still listening to them when both had ceased. My friends 
 Jiad no doubt been looking for me some time, for suddenly I heard my 
 name called out in the midst of the silence. I gave a shudder, so 
 little was I prepared for this human voice calling mc back to earth. 
 I opened my mouth to answer, but dared not ; it seemed as if it 
 would be a sacrilege to speak aloud. I rejoined .Tadin, and M. de 
 Chamoon, then in silence, and found them throwing the light of their 
 torches on an arch, in which was represented a woman whose ligure 
 is of an almost Grecian delicacy, ami who is seen sporting with a 
 shadow, a symbol oi the artist's intelligence engaged in a contest 
 with his laiuy. 
 
 For the rest, the inhabitants of Sauvigny losing sight among the 
 generations of their fathers, of the nnmner in which their church was 
 erected, and not believing such wonders could be accomplished liy hu- 
 man hands, attribute its construction to the fairi( s. A sliepherdcss 
 who liad gone to sleep near her Hock, awoke .it (htwn and saw it rise 
 through the mist of the morning, with its jiointed spires, its festooned 
 galleries, and its grand enfraiu'c, in the place where in tlie evening 
 before u fountain mur.nured, ami lie aiiliful trees grew. Struck with 
 ustonishment the poor wonnm remained motionhss, and in her ])laco 
 a stone statue was found, which still remains in tlie angle formed 
 by one of the towers. 
 
 On the loth of July, IH.'JO, the Duchess d" .Vngouliine, returning 
 from the waters of \ ichy, visited the jiriory of Sauvigny. She 
 caused the vault where her ancestors sleep to be opened, and knelt
 
 BOURBON-L'ARCnAMBAULT. 
 
 49 
 
 down and prayed for alonj^ time before their tombs. On rising she 
 fixed lier eyes on the eseutelieon of the house of liourbon, from -vvliich 
 the three blue_//('»rs (h: lis, and the word hojje, whieh is the motto of the 
 order of tlie goklen sliiold, had been scratched out. She asked Avliose 
 work this mutikition was ; and on being tokl that it was done by the 
 people, said : " As to their efi'acing the Jleurs de lis, that I can under- 
 stand, but the word Ao/je, where are we henceforth to look for it, if it is 
 made to disappear even from our tombs." 
 
 Twenty days afterwards, the daughter of St. Louis went for the 
 third time into exile. 
 
 I don't know what o'clock it was when we continued our journey 
 I only know that at the first 
 dawn of daj' we perceived, at a 
 quarter of a league's distance, 
 and crowning the summit of a 
 mountain, the battered ruins of 
 the old Castle of Bourbon-l'Ar- 
 chambault, surmounted by its 
 three colossal towers. 
 
 The house at which we 
 alighted was the same in wliich 
 jMadame de Montespan died. 
 It belonged to a young man, 
 who had undertaken a noble 
 and laborious task, which he 
 was not destined to complete 
 — to our young friend Achille 
 Allier, author of the Ancien «^vMK.EM,..srr.s,..s 
 
 Bourbonnais. There it was that he pursued in silence and in faitli, 
 slowly and conscientiously, that work which death came to interrupt. 
 The monument which he was erecting so laboriously for futurity, 
 remained unfinished; and the chisel fell from his hands before lie had 
 the happiness of carving his name on the last stone. Poor Achille ; 
 how he must have regretted dying! 
 
 He showed us the room where tlie celebrated favourite, who had been 
 as powerful as a cpicen, breathed her last sigh. Her state of isolation 
 at death formed a strange contrast with her life : no friendly voice, but 
 that of a priest, was there to sustain and fortifj' her at the last moment 
 and even before expiring she closed her eyes, doubtless in order to lose 
 sight of the strange and indifferent faces which surrounded her. 
 
 Two hours after she had breathed her last, a post-chaii* stopped be- 
 fore the house of death, a man descended from it ]irecipitately, mounted 
 the staii-cnse with rapidity, hurried into the room,ar.d rushed towards
 
 50 THE SOUTH OF FR.\NCE. 
 
 hpr bed. Do not imagine that it was to shed tears over the corpse — it 
 ■was in order to untie a key, which was fastened by a black ribbon to 
 the neck of the deceased ; having gained possession of it, he opened a 
 little box, took the papers which it enclosed, and went away without 
 taking any part in the funeral. Tliis man was her son ! 
 
 Madame de Montespan had left her heart to the convent of La 
 Flèche, her body to the Abbey of St. Germain des Prés, and her intes- 
 tines to the priory of St. Menoux, distant three leagues only from 
 Bourbon-l'Archanibault. La Flèche and St. Germain received their 
 legacies ; and, in order that the wishes of tlie deceased might be ful- 
 filled in every point, a peasant was ordered to carry to the neigli- 
 bouring church that portion of the remains which had been destined 
 for it. Unfortunately, they forgot to tell him the nature of the bur- 
 den which he had to beai*. In the middle of his joui-ney, he was 
 seized with a desire to know what it was he was carrying ; he opened 
 the case, and fancying he was being made the plaything of some 
 practical joker, threw the contents on the side of a ditch. At this 
 moment a herd of pigs passed by, and the bowels of the haughtiest 
 of women were devoured by the most unclean of beasts. 
 
 On leaving Achillc's, we found ourselves on the Place des Capucins, 
 where are the basins and reservoirs of the hot springs. These re- 
 servoirs form three large wells, at the bottom of which, the water seems, 
 at the first glance, to be in a constant state of ebullition, ^^'ith a 
 little attention one finds out that the bubbling is caused by the dis- 
 engagement of gas, and this disengagement gives birth to a vapour, 
 which, although imperceptible in hot and dry weather, becomes 
 ajjparent as soon as there is any moisture in the atmosphere ; and at 
 tlie a])proach, and during the prevalence of storms, forms a mist, 
 which is sometimes sufficiently thick to })revent one's seeing from 
 one side of the basin to tlie other. This phenomenon is explained 
 as follows : the more the atmos])lure presses on tluse waters, so much 
 the less does the heat cause dilation, the gas disengages itself, and 
 vajxinrs arise; whilst, on the C(»ntrarv, the less these waters are com- 
 pressed by the atmospheric air, which becomes ligliter in stormy 
 weatlier, so much tlie more does the heat cause dilation, and in liko 
 proportion gas is disengaged, ond the vajwurs produced. AVe were 
 witnesses of this difference in aspect, after an interval of only four 
 hours. Tlie colour of these waters is greenish, especially in the 
 basins, where if is more exposed to flic air than in the spnni,'s and 
 reservoirs; the smell is that of sulplnircttt d liydrogcn. Tills odour 
 is trifling eiioutjli in tlie luiglibouihoiid of tlie reservoirs, and dis- 
 ai)pears nitogethrr when tlie water luus iciiiaincd for some time in a 
 vuwe ; whilst, on t he con t rui*}', it increases with the vapour, and some-
 
 BOURBON-L ARCIIAMBAL'LT. 51 
 
 times becomes so slrong in bathing rooms, that one Avoukl be stifled 
 ill them, if the precaution of opening tlie vcntiUitors were not taken. 
 As for their taste, it is that of an hydro-sulpliurettic alkali ; left to get 
 cold, they lose their sharp lixiviel flavour for one decidedly alkaline; 
 and when warmed up, thej' are nauseating. 
 
 In the time of Cîcsar, Boui-bon-l'Archambault was already cele- 
 brated for its hot springs. The Roman legions, accustomed to the 
 warm sun, the mild air, and the soft waters of Italy, after having 
 forced their way with theii- bucklers through the snows of Auvergne, 
 looked upon these rushing Avatcrs, which sprang up before them, like 
 gifts from Heaven. They founded an establishment there, which dis- 
 appeared with their civilization, and was destroyed by the conquest 
 of the Franks. The barbarians, who succeeded them, had no idea of 
 the medicinal application of the mineral waters, as known by Aris- 
 totle, Hippocrates, and Galen. Avicennius is the first who sjjcaks of 
 them again, towai'ds the ninth century ; but it was not until the six- 
 teenth century that, thanks to the exiieriments of Genner, Baccius, 
 Bautrin, and Fallope, they began to regain favour. A century after- 
 wards, Gaston, the brother of Louis XIII., re-established his health 
 at the waters of Bourbon-l'Archambault, and laid the commencement 
 of a celebrity and a vogue, which were still more increased by the 
 frequent journeys which Madame dc Montespan made to them. 
 
 Allier observed to us that a storm was brewing, and recommended 
 that we should continue our route immediately. The next thing which 
 detained us was the Quiquengrogne, which is an isolated tower, raised, 
 some say, by Archanibault the Great, others by Louis I., in contempt 
 of the rights of the townspeople. Jealous of their prerogatives, they 
 armed, in ordei- to recover them ; but the builder of the tower ascended 
 the ramparts with his soldiers, and, opening his engines of war upon 
 the malcontents, cast the following insulting words in their teeth from 
 the top of the walls : — " On la bâtira, qui qu'en groyne .'" (It shall be 
 built, whoever grumbles at it !) The anger of the people suggested a 
 name for the lord's structure, and its despotic title has stuck to it 
 to the ])resent day. 
 
 In the meanwhile the gigantic skeleton of the castle was attract- 
 ing us ; we directed our course towards it, and found its old ruins 
 peopled by poor peasants, who had sought refuge, like sparrows and 
 swallows, in cvcrj' corner where the feudal stronghold oflered them a 
 nest. As elsewhere, the strongest were the best provided for. 
 
 In raising my eyes to measure the height of the turrets, I per- 
 ceived at the summit of one of them an animal, which appeared to me 
 to bear a singular resemblance to a rabbit. I pointed it out to Jadin, 
 who, convinced that it was not the place for such a quadruped, main- 
 
 K 2
 
 M TOE SOIÏII OF FRANCE. 
 
 taincd that it wiis a cat. A discission having set in between us, I 
 raised niv gun in order to terminate it, and took aim at the animal; I 
 tired, and down it came at our feet, like a thrush, only it was a rabbit. 
 
 The discussion now became more animated as to why these ani- 
 mals, which we had always seen burrowing in the eai'th for their 
 houses, should, at Bourbon-l'Archambault, on the contrary, have 
 chosen the most elevated point of a castle for the establishment of their 
 domiciles. A peasant, who came to claim his property, soon relieved us 
 from doubt. lie valued the defunct at twenty sous; we gave him thii'ty, 
 and for the surplus obtained the following explanation : — 
 
 Some of the poor inhabitants of the ancient niar.or of the dukes of 
 Jîourbon, obser\-ing that the summits of each tower presented a solid 
 surface of thirty or forty feet in circumference, thought of turning 
 tliis sjjot, wliicli God had given them, between heaven and earth, to 
 some account. In consequence they carried earth from the fields 
 there in panniers, baskets, sacks, in short, all the recipients which 
 they could procure. When the three summits were covered with this 
 improvised soil, they commenced their sowing, the sun shone on 
 their harvest, and they gathered enough corn for all the year round. 
 But as, on Sundays and holidays, it is desirable to eat something 
 else along with one's bread, and as one good idea generally suggests 
 a great many others, tluy reflected that rabbits would thrive wonder- 
 fully on what was left from the best parts of the corn. The lofty field 
 became a warren ; and tliat explains kow the incongruous dweller in 
 these modern gardens of Semiramis had given rise, while leaning 
 over the boundaries of his aerial domain, to a discussion which ended 
 for him in so tragical a manner. 
 
 This scientific point, which, without the above explanation, might 
 have occasioned great doubts in natural history, having been once 
 cleared up, we separated, Jadin to take a view of the castle and the 
 town, myself to j)ut down a few notes in my albiun. I accordingly 
 lay down beneath the shade cast by a projection from the wall; and 
 tlu-n, separated from the world, list/cning to the noise of the wind 
 which moaned through the ruins, alone with my historical recollec- 
 tions, I began to go back into tlie past. The nu)st remarkable remi- 
 niscence connected with llie town, with the exciption of C.esar's hav- 
 ing stopped there to lay its foundulions ■')! year» A.C., and I'epin the 
 Short having j)roceeded there for its destruction in 7(»'_', was its 
 comjtulsory abandonment by the constable in ir/J.'J. 
 
 l''or both a magnificent ])rince and n brave captain was that high 
 and mighty J,ord Charles Duke of Hourbonnais and of Auvergne, 
 (.'ount of Clermont in lU-auvoisis, of .Moiitjjcnsier, of Forez, of la 
 Marche, and of Clermoni in .\uvirgiie, Dauphin of Auvergne, Vis-
 
 BOURBON-L ARCHAMP.A I I.T. 
 
 53 
 
 count of Carlat nnd of Murat, Lord of Beaujolais, of Combaillcs, of 
 Mercœur, of Aiiiioiinv, of Koclie iv. liegnicr, and of l'ourboîi-Lai;- 
 ceys, Peer and Cliambcrlain of 
 France, and Lieutcnant-j,'eneral 
 of the King in the countries cA' 
 Eurgundy and Languedoc. lie 
 had fourteen fortified castles ami 
 seven pleasure houses, ^Yhich ].■■ 
 possessed, either through his o\\ i 
 family or by marriage ; and tlie 
 dependencies of whieh coveied 
 the seventh part of the territorv 
 of France, He held the office of 
 constable, -which had remained 
 vacant since the deatii of tlie 
 Count de St. Pol, and which \\ as 
 the complimentary gift of Fran- 
 cis I., on his accession to the 
 throne. This post gave him the 
 right to execute justice, high and low, not only in his own dominions, 
 but also in the countries of Burgundy and Languedoc. AU seneschals 
 bailifis, provosts, mayors, guards, governors of towns, castles, and 
 fortresses, bridges, harbours, and passages, were to obey him as king; 
 so that he was so rich in peace, that when he accompanied Francis L, 
 who had just assumed the crown at St. Denis, he was clad in a dress 
 of cloth of gold, containing twelve ells, each ell of which cost two 
 hundred and eighty golden crowns ; and in his cap were rings and 
 jewellery to the value of three hundred thousand livres. And he 
 was so powerful in war that, when at the ago of seventeen, he accom- 
 panied the king, Louis XIL, who was going beyond the mountains 
 to conquer back his seigneurie of Gênes, which had rebelled, he had a 
 hundred men-at-arms and a hundred archers, which he kept at his 
 own expense, costing nothing to the king except two thousand livres 
 as Count of Montpensier ; and when he returned there, in 1509, to 
 conquer back the country of Cremona, which the Venetians had 
 usurped, and were retaining, to the injury of the Duke of Milan, he 
 led to the battle of Tn'visc (which restored to the king Cremona, 
 Cermo, Bergamo, and Bremo) one hundred and twenty gentlemen, 
 and a hiuidred and twenty archers of his own house; and finally, 
 when he crossed the Alps the third time, as Hannibal had done, and 
 as Napoleon was destined to do, taking with him six hundred rnen- 
 at-arms and twelve thousand men on foot to gain the battle of Ma- 
 rigT'.an, the scene of which histoiv has marked between that of Tina-
 
 54 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 simen and of Marengo, he lent ten thousand crowns to the king, who 
 already owed him a hundred thousand livres, and this without count- 
 ing the life of his own hrother and his own blood — tilings which are 
 not lent, but given, and which he gave generously and loyally. 
 
 Now, he had accomplished all these things at the age of twonty- 
 fivo. He was a young and noble knight, although there was some- 
 thing sad and grave in his physiognomy, Avhich was perhaps occa- 
 sioned by his long hair in the style of Louis XII., and which he would 
 not allow to be cut, in spite of the order of Francis I. He had married 
 ^ladame Suzanne de Houi-bon, daughter of the Duchess Anne and 
 tlie Duke Peter, and niece of King Charles ; and, although slie was 
 deformed, he remained so faithful to her that he refused the love of 
 the greatest lady in France, Madame Louise de Savoy, mother of 
 he king, but who nevertheless was then only thirty-three years of 
 age. The consequence was that her rejected love became soured, and 
 turned into hatred. This was so nmch the case that, when the king 
 led his army into Picardy, he, at the instigation of his mother, gave 
 the command of the advanced guard, whicli belonged by right to the 
 constable, to the Duke of Alençon ; and this did not prevent the for- 
 mer doing his best and restoring to the king tlie towns of Hesdin and 
 liouchain ; — it was so much the case that, when Madame Su/anne de 
 Bourbon died without children, Madame Louise de Savoy, not think- 
 ing herself sufficiently avenged, assumed to be the liiiress of the do- 
 minions of the constable, and, as being the mother of the king, gained 
 a law-suit which deprived her enemy of all his wealth and all his 
 titles. And this was the reward for his gold, and the blood with 
 which he had watered tlw/lciirs tic lis so copiously that they had put 
 forth new blossoms from it. 
 
 It wa.s then, and under these circumstances, that the llmpi ror 
 Charles V. and King Henry Vlll.otfered to restore to him more than 
 Francis I. had deprived him of; and yet the constable hesitated. 
 Francis 1. heard of tlicse otfers, and this hesitation, and treated the 
 constable as if he liad ahiady accepted them, sinding for his capture 
 tlie Ihi.stard of Savoy, (nand- .Master of I''rance, the Marslial de 
 Cinibannes, the DuUu d'Alen<,on, and M. do Vendôme, eacli with a 
 hundred men-at-arms. Tiiis was a linal Iiononr ; for an entire army 
 was raised to take a single man. 
 
 Learning this, the constable left liis castle at Chantelle by night, 
 on the lOth of .September, witliout a page n))d without attendant, but 
 with one single gentienuui, who was the Lord of I'oniperan, and 
 whose life ho iiad saved. Constantly jjursued by, ami constantly 
 nvdiding. Ills enemies, he crossed Aiivergiu-, Daupiiiné, S.i\oy, and 
 Uiu Alps and descended, for the Iburth time, into tliose plains of
 
 BOURBON L AHCÎIA.MBAULT. 55 
 
 Piedmont which were so well known to him by his victories. It was 
 there that the messengers of King Francis I. came up with him, and 
 demanded ft-om him his sword of Constable and the Order of France : 
 "Go and tell yom- master," replied Bourbon, " that as for the sword 
 of Constable, he deprived me of it the day when he gave the com- 
 mand of the advanced guard, which belonged to me, to the Duke of 
 Alcn(;on ; and that as for the medal of the Order of France, I left it 
 at Chantelle behind the pillow of ni}' bed, where he can go and get 
 it." And that was all the more just, as to the last ])oint especially, 
 "inasmuch," says Du Bellay, "as the queen-mother had already 
 caused all the fm-niturc to be seized in Bourbon's houses, at the said 
 Chantelle, at Moulins, and elsewhere, being the most beautiful which 
 could be found in the house of any Christian prince." 
 
 That is how and why the Constable of Bourbon left France, which 
 was his native country, and became a traitor, and was accustomed to 
 cite the following answer of a Gascon officer to Charles VII., who 
 asked him if anything could take him away from his service : — " JVo, 
 su'c, not even the offer of three kingdoms like your own ; but Yes, 
 sire, one single insult!" 
 
 And wo must not say adieu to the constable, even on leaving the 
 old castle which records his menioiy ; for Bourbon-l'Archambault is 
 only the nest from which the eagle has taken his flight ; we shall 
 find him again hovering over the town of Marseille, and flapping his 
 wings in the plains of Pavia and the walls of Home; we shall search for 
 the mark of his beak and claws in the crown of Francis I. and the tiai-a 
 of Clement VII. ; for, in the woi'ds of the Castilian song : "France gave 
 him his milk, Spain his adventures and his glory, and Italy his tomb." 
 
 ïliis tomb, which was seen by Brantôme, was erected at Gaeta ; 
 for the soldiers of the constable durst not leave his body at Rome, 
 lest, after their departure, it should be profaned. Above it, floated 
 the yellow standard which Bourbon had adopted on entering the 
 service of the emperor, and which represented a kite with flaming 
 swords; and underneath, the word hope, signifying that he had been 
 obliged to leave France with the quickness of a kite, but that he had 
 the terrible hope of returning there with sword and fire. On the 
 front, which looked towards the church door, was the following epi- 
 taph, an exaggerated but curious proof of the reputation which the 
 Coriolanus of the middle ages left at his death : — 
 
 Charlemagne the chivalrous, out of something made a great deal ; 
 
 Alexander the Great, out of a little made something ; 
 But Charles Didic of Bovu-bon, who reposes here, 
 Made more than either of them out of nothing. 
 
 The goods of the Constable of Bourbon remained the property of
 
 56 THE SOL'Tn OF FRANCE. 
 
 Madame Louise dc Savoy and Henry II. until the period when Fran- 
 cis II. restored a portion of them to Monseigneur Louis dc Bourhon, 
 Duke of Montpensier; but tlic Castle of Bourbon-l'Arehanihault was 
 not among them, and it remained in the hands of the Valois until the 
 day of Henry III.'s assassination; at the time of which, by a singular 
 coincidence, the lightning struck the chapel which stood at the foot 
 of these towers now ixmaining ; carried away the motto of the house 
 of Bourbon ; and leaving the three Jhiirs dc lis untouched, made them 
 the escutcheon of France. In our days, also, a popular storm has 
 broken out on the descendants of the Bourbons as it broke out then 
 on the race of the Valois ; but this time the thunderbolt, falling on the 
 Tuileries, has destroyed nintto and escutcheon tog:ether. 
 
 Commenced by John II., continued by Peter IL, and only finished 
 in 1.3U8, the period at which Gothic architecture was in its greatest 
 glory, this lady-chapel, sister and rival of that in Paris, combined 
 the wonderful fancy which distinguished the art of the fifteenth 
 centur}' with the perfection and finish of the period of the rentiis- 
 saiice. It possessed windows of the richest glass, covered with holy 
 legends, the most delicate wood-work carved in oak, lace-work cut in 
 stone, shrines of gold set with jewels, statues of massive silver, and 
 a golden reliquary all studded with rubies, containing a piece of the 
 true cross, which St. Louis had himself brought back from the Holy 
 Land, and had given to his son, Robert of France, Count of Clermont. 
 This ])recious relic was kept in a subterraneous chapel, called tlie 
 Treasure. Mounted in pure gold, it formed the cross of a Calvary, 
 in which were the statues of the Virgin, St. John, and the penitent 
 Magdalen. One of those gix-at, but unknown artists, wlio lived in 
 the fourteenth century, had grouped the kneeling figures of John, 
 Duke of Bourbon, and Jeanne of France, his wife ; a golden crown 
 surmounted the cross, and bore this inscription : — 
 
 Louin de liourbon, the second of that name, had tins cross decorated 
 witli gold and jewels in the year 1393. 
 
 Four centuries later, year for ye:;r, a jioor priest of the ])arish 
 church found this piece of the true cross in I lie dust, torn away from 
 its golgotha of silver, and despoiled of its gold and its rubies. He 
 placed it in an old reliquary, wliich could tempt the cupidity of no 
 one ; and this humble act was doubtless as pleasing to (Jod, as the 
 KuniptuouH ottering of Jyouis di' l{ourl)on. 
 
 In the meanwhile, in this lady-chapel, bereft of its gold and its 
 diamonds, there still remained Ireasures of art and poetry ; less rich 
 an to nmteriuls, but m<ne valuable us to workmanship, than those of 
 which j)rofune hands had just j)iilaged it. There was a Jesus with 
 liis Twelve Apostles, which held the same place in the statuary of the
 
 BOURBON L ARCHAMBAULT. 5* 
 
 midclle ages which Niobé and hcr children did in ancient sculpture ; 
 there was a genealogy of the house of Bourbon, executed in bas- 
 relief, -svitli all the luxury of ornament that imagination's dream 
 could invent ; there was an Adam and Eve, a beautiful group in 
 stone ; a figure of St. Louis, in terra colta ; and two equestrian statues 
 of white marble, one of which represented Peter II. with his hand 
 placed in the pommel of his large sword, with its scabbard covered with 
 Jkurs de lis, while the other was his wife, Anne of France, and daugh- 
 ter of King Louis XL, who was seen holding a falcon on one WTist, 
 while with her other hand she caressed the mane of her palfrey. 
 
 One day an army of philosophers left Moulins, with a drum at 
 their head, and a piece of cannon di-agging after them, to take this 
 lady-chapcl by assault, and exterminate its garrison of marble. 
 Three centuries of veneration, which formed its only defence, did 
 not stop the besiegers. The cannon roared in the nave, and at one 
 blow all the windows were dashed to pieces, to the greater glory of 
 the republic, one and indivisible. Gods, saints, and aristocrats were 
 afterwards guillotined, and the band then retired, lea%'ing the lady- 
 ehapel blackened and in ruins, but at all events still standing, still 
 grand, rich, and poetical, like a gigantic skeleton, a colossal spectre. 
 
 Under the Restoration, when the Bom-bons ought to have recon- 
 sti-uctcd this work of their family, all that remained of the lady-chapel 
 was offered for sale ; a mason bought it for the purpose of demolish- 
 ing it, and selling or using the materials ; for in the whole depart- 
 ment, from the prefect down to the member of the municipal council, 
 not one honest citizen was found who even thought of turning it 
 into a barn or a hay-loft. It was demolished to the foundations. 
 The tradesman who had bought it, and who wished to make his 
 money by it, did not leave the old and sacred monument until he had 
 reached its roots of stone ; and he was right, for four feet beneath 
 the ground he found immense mai'ble slabs, which covered immense 
 tombs, in which were immense bones. He sold the slabs for paving 
 kitchens, and the tombstones for sharpening knives; as for the bones, 
 he threw them to the winds, and to the mud, for they were worth 
 nothing. They were, nevertheless, relics of the house of Bourbon, 
 which now reigns (1S41) in France, Naples, and Spain. 
 
 It was poor Allier who told me all these things, and pointed out 
 to me the powerful vegetation of the country, which was already 
 beginning to spread over this fat soil. Unhappily he was only a child, 
 when this sacrilege took place ; " For," said he, " I would have sold 
 even the house of my father to save that of God." Accordingly, when 
 in 1832 the old castle was offered for sale, as the old chapel had been 
 offered previously, he wrote to the royal prince, telling him that if
 
 5S 
 
 THE SOUTU OF 1UAXC1-: 
 
 he, the Duke of Orleans, did not buy those towers ei-uniblinj with 
 decay, he, Allier, must purchase them. The Duke of Orleans, an 
 artist himself, understood this letter from another artist ; the castle 
 was immediately bought ; and Bourbon-rArchambault is at least certain 
 to keep for some centuries to come this symbol of the family, of 
 which it was the cradle — this page of history, written in stone, and 
 in which we read, " Grandeur and ruins." 
 
 If we chose, we could write a good and noble book, full of nothing 
 but the good and noble things which the Duke of Orleans has 
 already done.* 
 
 \\'e found Jadiii holding an animated discussion with tlio secre- 
 tary of the mayor, l-'rom the spot where he liad stationed himself, 
 
 • A vrarBlnrc, in nnitwcr to a li-lt<r from Victor Iliiifo, ll<•^rIlt him four IIkmihiiikI friuio, 
 n-hich wen- In Im< a|i|ili('d by lilin to piiviii); an old iii;iii iiml liii (ainily fiom ilcniiiiir ; nnil 
 till» without (vrn ii<liinK the nuiiivuf thi' old mini Inmi tlio irrciit [KX't who liiid iimdc him- 
 M-lf till! intcrprrtcr of hit dlittrcMi. A wi'ik iiko, at my Almplt! r(>(|uct<t, ho K>'<»itcd the Ufa 
 of u yoiinK mail -a far more ditHciiU thinif to Kraut than K<'ld, for thiMlciiihof this yuung 
 n.an, whuoc life lie ojiarcd for mc-, wait luukcd for iiit an cxaiiiirii.' by all the army.
 
 boureox-l'auciiambault. 50 
 
 to make his sketch, ho perceived the Quiqiien grogne ; and on the 
 Quiqueii «grogne ; a weathercock. Now tliis weathercock, by some 
 accident or other, luul become bent ; and Jadin, as a consfientious 
 landscape painter, had reproduced it in all its crookedness. This 
 historical fidelity had wounded the self-love of this functionarj-, who 
 was criticising its exercise, and who had naturally enough enter- 
 tained some fear lest this irregular weathercock might give a false 
 notion of the public monuments in his part of the country. This was 
 all the more painful to him, inasmuch as, on the Thursday preceding, 
 the municipal council had voted unanimously for a new weathercock, 
 and it was to be substituted immediately for the other. Jadin was 
 informed of this, but paid no attention to it, and continued his 
 fJvotch without making the unfortunate weathercock in the least 
 degree straighter. This obstinacy had driven the unfortunate official 
 to despair; and we only managed to calm him by reminding him that 
 he had the right of advertising the true state of the case in the 
 nevspapers. 
 
 We left Bourbon-l'Archambault the same evening, one day having 
 been sufficient for us to search its ruins and unfold its history. Achille 
 Allier wished to accompany us as far as Moulins, which we were to 
 quit tae next day; and accordingly he took a scat in our carriage, and 
 otl' we went. 
 
 Theweather had been heavy throughout the day. and threatened one 
 of tlios? late storms which wander into the autumn. The reservoirs 
 of hot vatcr disengaged a vapour which resembled a waterspout. 
 Night had arrived earlier and more dark than usual ; we could not 
 see four feet around us, except when the sky was torn asunder by a 
 flash of liglitning, and then the whole landscape became illuminated 
 with a blucish tint which gave the plain all the appearance of a lake. 
 Seen by this fantastic light, the most common-place spot assumes a 
 poetic character which is so much the greater in proportion as the in- 
 stant dui-ing -^hich it appears passes quickly ; we had, therefore, thrown 
 back the top oi our carriage, in order to lose no part of this sight. A 
 pilgrimage in soiu'ch of novelty is a delightful thing, provided three 
 or four young men of artistic feeling travel together, for they meet 
 with the beautifcl in places where the vulgar would not even suspect 
 its existence ; thts, at the moment when every one was doubtless 
 hastening home to avoid the storm, we were telling our driver to 
 slacken his pace that we might not lose a single flash. 
 
 In a short time ^îe saw an opaque body rising between the storm 
 and ourselves, which intercepted our view of the heavens in the place 
 where it appeared. As we approached it, this body, behind which 
 from time to time a brilliaut light appeared, took the form of a
 
 60 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 church, and again was lost in darkness as the i lectric flame disap- 
 peared. "We were soon near cnouiih to distinguish its dark sliadow 
 each time the lightning flashed hehind it. Its roof was bristling 
 with spii'es, and amongst tliem was one, more loi'ty, more elegant, 
 with more open work than the otlicrs, for the light penetrated through 
 its stony luce. Achille called my attention to it, for there was a 
 history attached to that spire. 
 
 The Priory of St. .Menoux, before which we now were, is a 
 Roman church of the tenth century, which began to fall into ruins 
 towards the end of the fifteenth. Altliou^h the saint under whose 
 patronage it was, enjoyed a great reputation in tlie neighbourhood, 
 above all for curing madness, and although it was the third daughter 
 of the Abbey of C'luny. it was so poor tliat Don Cholet, its minister, 
 did not know how to meet the repairs which decay rendered ne- 
 cessary. He was very much embarrassed then, when a sudden 
 inspiration seized him : he would go to the Holy Father, wl:o still 
 resided at Avipfnon, and obtain some indulgences. This favour, 
 which only cost a signature, was easilj- obtained. Four copies, 
 stamped with the papal seal, and with tlie holy name of the Sovereign 
 Pontiff were put into the hands of four monks, the most vigorous that 
 could be found. Tiiey went away the same day, at the same hour, 
 from the same place, walking in the direction of the four cardinal 
 points of France. A year afterwards, on the same day, at tlie same 
 liour, they returned to the same place, bringing back the indulgences 
 worn by the lips of the faithful, and four luiiidred tliousand francs, 
 as a proof of tlie sinceritj' of tliose kisses. 
 
 Then tliese good monks commenced tlie work of rejiair ; tlic Gothic 
 flourished ns if it were grafted on the Itoman architecture, and soon 
 sjiread its ornaments around tlic natural stem. As was the custom at 
 this period of instinctive and C'liristian art, each sculptor undertook o 
 niche, a pillar, or a chapel ; and a j'oung architect, mimed Diaire, tlio 
 only one whose name lias been preserved, took for hi.s taslc the stecpl(>, 
 whidi was to lift its lu ad from tlie midst of tlie ten hpires with wliicli, 
 aecording to tin- usual plan, tiie roof of the cliurcli vas to be decorated. 
 
 He Juid comnuneed his work willi tlie faith of a Christian and 
 the ardour of an artist, wluii he was clioscn by Duke Gilbert de 
 Montpcnsier, who was accompanying King ChmUs \'III. to the eon- 
 quest of Naples, to form jiart of liis retinue. Vliis was unfortunate, 
 for tlie arcliitect liad lus mucli dislike for war as lie liad attaeliinent 
 to liisown art J accordingly, at the fourth lia't, lie disajjpeared from 
 hiH companj'. The captain rejiorted the circumstance to the Duko 
 Gilbert, who wrote to his domuinn, ordering that if the refractory 
 person should be caught, he was to be hang(d without mercy, wiiat-
 
 HOC iu!()x-i. A ucii a:m bau i.t. 
 
 61 
 
 ever excuse he mig-lit m:ikc for his desertion : this direction having 
 been given, he continued his route and arrived at I'ouzzoles, where 
 he died h)yally and was huried. 
 
 In tlie meanwhile the deserter had returned to his family, and 
 was living concealed with one of his brothers. During this time, 
 also, the architects, his companions, had finished their spires, to the 
 greatest glory of the saint, to the greatest joy of the monks, and the 
 greatest admiration of the faithful. Diaire's steeple alone, which 
 nevertheless ought to have been the loftiest and the most handsome, 
 slujwed, shamefully enough, only one layer of stone, the sculpture 
 of which scarcely showed the mark of the chisel. This was a singular 
 disgrace to the church ; so that, after a deliberation on the subject, it 
 was decided that the completion of the work should be entrusted to 
 whichever of the other aix-hitects sliould otl'er the plan most in har- 
 mony with the part already done. 
 
 Tla> day after this decision was made known, it wnsobservd with 
 astonishment that the st(^eple a])})eared to have increased in height 
 during the night by an entire layer of stone. However, not much 
 attention was paid to it, when, during the following night, the miracle 
 was repeated in so evident a manner that there could no longer be 
 any doubt upon the subject. An invisible hand was employed in 
 this nocturnal work, and from the superior boldness with which it 
 was executed, and the fineness of the sculpture on the eight sides 
 of the column, people began to thijik that .some superhuman work-
 
 62 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 man had undertaken the work, and that the fairies who had built the 
 church of Sauvijjny wished to form a pendant to it, hy compk^tiiig 
 in so miracukmsa manner that of St. Menoux. This opinion acquired 
 additional credence from its being remarked that it was only during 
 dtu'k nights that the mysterious architect devoted himself to his task: 
 as long as the moonlight lasted, on the other hand, the work ceased, 
 only to be resumed when the revealing orb had completely disap- 
 peared from the heavens. 
 
 In the meanwhile one of the architects, whose faith was less firm 
 than that of his brethren, resolved to elucidate the foct : he ascended 
 nis particular steeple in the evening, concealed himself there like a 
 sentinel in his box, and was not long before, in spite of the dark, he 
 could distinguish a being decidedly material, who lifted up certain 
 stones read}- cut and sculptured on to the church, which lie after- 
 wards arranged in their proper places. He thus beheld the work of 
 tliis man until the day was about to break, when the nocturnal 
 workman disappeared, leaving his steeple increased in height bj" 
 another row of stones. 
 
 The following night each spire had its man, so that, directly the 
 •aiysterious workman made Ids api)earance, he was surrounded and 
 seized. A dark lantern was held to his face, and the deserter Diairc 
 was recognised. 
 
 The artist had not been able to keep away from his steeple ; when 
 near it he had not had the courage to let another person finish it, 
 and had continued his work at the risk of his life. 
 
 Diaire's sentence had been already pronounced. His trial, therc- 
 f jre did not occupy much time, and he only d( inandid a respite of 
 i.nc month to finish liis steeple, which was accorded to him. 
 
 The day after the steeide was finished, Dialre was hanged. 
 
 Art is a religicm, which has not been without its martyrs. 
 
 Just as Achille Allier was concluding this legend, tlu" authen- 
 ticity of which can be establislied by several descendants of the 
 unhappy workman, and who still bear his name, the rain commenced 
 falliiif^ so heavily, that the coachman, who liad not the option of 
 placing himself under cover like ourselves, begged us to seek some 
 ])lace of slu'lter. The church j)rcKented one. Allier knoekcd at the 
 door of the sacristan, who came to us witli the keys, a lantern, and 
 two torclies; and we eiiiplovid the time which we were obliged to 
 .080 in vihitiiig tlie church of .St. Menoux. 
 
 It iH, as I have already said, an old ImildinH: of the tenth century, 
 repaired and enil)(Ilishcd in tlie fifteenth, but of wliieh the ])rinei])ai 
 cliaracteristicH are still Roman. It imssesses the tojnb of the saint from 
 whom it takes its name; it is a very simple monument, in the form
 
 noUlUÎON-L ARCIIAMBAULT. 03 
 
 of a bier, and contains the lieart of the holy man enclosed in a box. 
 of cedar wood. A round hole is formed in the tomb itself, to admit 
 the faithful to the performance of an act of faith : every believer 
 who has the misfortune to be bitten by a mad dog mtay come into 
 tlie church, push his head through the hole, leave it there sufficient 
 time for the repetition of five I'aters and five Aves, and the sacristan 
 has no doubt but that he will be cured. 
 
 A convent of noble nuns was formerly attached to the church of 
 St. ^lenoux. The qualifications for admission were not very severe ; 
 but every young lady who committed a fault after entering the order, 
 was painted as a man, and her portrait placed in a gallerj', wliich 
 was intended, by the exhibition of these singular transformations, to 
 bring humility to the heart of the guilty one. We remarked that 
 one of the prettiest sinners, not only wore male attii'e, but was even 
 dressed in armour : she must in all probability have committed some 
 enormous crime. The gallery contained from a hundred and fifty to 
 a hundred and sixty paintings. 
 
 During om* visit to the new Chevalières d'Eon the weather had 
 cleared up, and we were now able to continue our journey. On 
 repassing Sauvigny, Allier pointed out to us a tower situate at the 
 corner of the space before the church ; it is all that remains of the 
 ancient chateau of the iJukes of Bourbon, who, towards the fourteenth 
 centm-y, abandoned tlie residence of Sauvigny for that of Moulins. 
 
 A\'e went back to our hotel at about eleven o'clock, and for three 
 hours afterwards talked by the fireside of ancient historical recollec- 
 tions, old and marvellous legends, and time-honoured popular tradi- 
 tions, of which Allier was making a collection for his great work, on 
 which he had concentrated all his faculties and all his hopes. At 
 last he went to his bed-room, which was adjoining ours, and for some 
 time afterwards we exchanged words through the partition. Tlie 
 next day he accompanied us about a quarter of a mile out of the 
 town. Then we embraced one another, little thinking that it was for 
 the last time.
 
 I Imd 1)1 
 :ng liiiii 
 
 CIIAlTKli MI. 
 
 TIIK P.OMANS IN GAl'I,. 
 
 HE next day wo arrived at Ly- 
 ons, nothiiii; havinjj detained us 
 on our road exoei)ting the old and 
 almost abandoned eastle of James 
 II. of Cliabannes, Seif,Mieur of la 
 I'aliec. It was shown to us by a 
 sexaij:enary jiorter, a livinj^' ruin 
 in the midst of dead ones, the fa- 
 mily havinj,' eeased to inhabit the 
 residence of their ancestors. Tay- 
 lor had advised me not to pass 
 tlirouf,'h tlie villajjc marked by 
 the Gothie walls withinit K"'"{Ç 
 into the post-master's yard, whore 
 the tomb of the eoncpieror of lia- 
 vonmi, a niaster-])ioee of the six- 
 teenth eentury, was in use as a 
 tr(mf;h for wateriuf^ the horses, 
 en jjainfuUy struek with a truly national indi^jnation at h car- 
 mention tills circumstance: not satisded witii profanin{j[ his
 
 THE ROMANS IN GAUL. fifi 
 
 name, tlicy had not even spared his ashes. I did not fail then to attend 
 to Taylor's advice, but the tomb was no longer to be seen ; it had been 
 purhased and removed to the Museum of Avignon ; as for the bones, 
 no one knew what had become of them. 
 
 We visited then the ruins wliich, in the days of their splendour, 
 had been inhabited by one of those men whom liichelieu found so 
 influential, that he had to decapitate the entire race. James IL, 
 Duke of Chabannes, was a giant among giants. He was a man like 
 Bourbon,, a man like Baj-ard, a man like Trivulce, who were tlu-ee 
 men mci-!? j,powerful than the king. He conquered Naples with 
 Charles VHl,ty and Milanais with Louis XIL He was juge du camjj 
 the day, Sotomayor was killed ; he was general the day Ravenna was 
 taken ;,l)e was marshal at Marignan, with Francis I. the conqueror; 
 he was a soldier at Pavia, with Francis L the conquered. There it 
 was, when he had fallen from his horse, in the midst of the enemy, who 
 weri^^.-ing bencatli liis hand, that his sword, which he still held, was 
 dispfi At by Castaldo, an Italian captain, andBusarto.a Spanish captain : 
 as he'^vbuld surrender it to neither, but preferred death, being too old 
 to bo conquered and taken prisoner, Busarto placed the end of his arque- 
 bus iigainst his cuirass and beat in liis chest, and it was only then that 
 he let go the weapon so eagerly sought for by his conquerors. " Thus 
 it was," says Brantôme, " that, having begun well, he ended well." 
 
 Be, then, the sword of three monarchs, the comi-ade of Bayard, the 
 conqueror of Gonzalves, the friend of Maximilian, and the avenger of 
 Nemours ; stain with your blood the trenches of Barlette, the rampai'ts 
 of Rubos, the plains of Agnadcl, and the fields of Guinegate ; be 
 reckoned among the conquerors of ]Marignan, and the unconquered 
 of Pavia ; die, then, rather than give up your sword on a field where 
 the King of France did give up his ; and all this in order that the 
 cradle of your infancy may become a ruin, your name a by-word, and 
 jour tomb a trough for the convenience of tliirsty horses. To some 
 persons posterity is more ungrateful than kings! 
 
 The only descendants of the Marshal do la Palice are two young 
 and brave officers who have already each fought three or four- duels 
 in consequence of bearing one of the most glorious names in France. 
 
 At Lyons we find the first visible traces of the domination of the 
 Romans. Now, then, that we have arrived at Lyons, we wiU give a 
 short account of the manner in which the Roman domination com- 
 menced and extended itself in Gaul. 
 
 Before that period it belonged almost entirely to that people who, 
 as it declared, feared nothing but the fall of the sky, and who sent 
 one of its leaders to burn Rome, and another to pillage Delphi. Its 
 soil was rich, not only in rivers, harvests, and forests, but also in 
 mines. The Alps, the Pyrenec-s, and the Ccvennes possessed veins of 
 
 F
 
 66 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE 
 
 gold and silver, which were scarcely concealed by a lignt surface 
 of earth. The shores of the Mediterranean supplied that granite so 
 fine and brilliant that it might well have been the fabuloua car- 
 buncle of the ancients, which the moderns have sought for in vain. 
 In fine, the Ligiu'es procured around the island of Hieres that magTii- 
 ficent coral with wliich they decorated the necks of their women and 
 the hilts of their swords. At this time Tyre was fiuurishing, and its 
 sailoi"s darkened the Mediterranean and the ocean with their thousand 
 galleys. Amongst her sons she counted a god; this god was Her- 
 cules — Hercules, who was born the very day the city was founded ; 
 Hercules, the intrepid traveller, who pushed back the boundaries of the 
 world and assigned it new limits: Hercules, who was nothing more nor 
 less than the genius of Tyre, at the same time warlike and commercial, 
 powerful both by the sword and by riches, which nothing can resist, and 
 who repi-esents to the eyes of those who have endeavoured to see into 
 the symbols of antiquity, not a man, not a hero, not a god, but a people. 
 
 Hercules landed near the mouth of the lihone, and had only jiro- 
 ceeded a few leagues into the interior, when he was attacked by Ligur 
 and Albion, children of Neptune. He exhausted his arrows and was 
 about to succumb, when Jupiter came to his assistance with a shower 
 of flints, by which the plain of Crau has remained covered up to the 
 present day. Hercules, the conqueror, then founded a town, which he 
 called Nemausos, in memory of his son. This town is Nimes, the 
 modern name of which still gives some indication of its ancient one. 
 
 In this the allegory is transparent, and the symbol evident. Civil- 
 izaticm, ignored and despised by the barbarians, landed in the west, 
 iiarl)ansm was overcome; and, as a trophy of the victoiy of the plain 
 over the mountain, a tow n was founded. The mission of Hercules in Gaul 
 was now accomi)llslu(l. Finally the gods saw him, says Silius Italicus: 
 
 Scirulciitcm inibcs, fiaiigcntcnique ardua moiitis. 
 And from that time there was a road which led from the mountains of 
 Ga>d to the plains of Italy across the Collo di Tenda. This was the first 
 road known; it dates from a thousand jearsbeforeChrist, and, although 
 now twenty-eight centuries old, it is still called the Tyrian Itoad. 
 
 Tyre, condemned by the jirophet K/ekiel, and besieged by the 
 armies of Nebucliadne/./ai-, was approaching its decline. Its lan- 
 guisliing colonies were strug;,'liMg far from the metropolis, like limbs 
 to which the lieart sends no lilood. The civilization of llhodes had 
 eiifircly failed to revive the institutions of those whom slie succeeded 
 in the enii)ire of the seas; these Dutchmen of the ancient world soon 
 disapix-an (1 in their turn, after luiving built lilioda, or lihodanousio, 
 near the mouths of tlie Rhone ; and on their departure the trade be- 
 tween (Jatil and the l''ast, once so active, was almost ititirely at an end. 
 
 The natives of the country profited by this moment of reaction,
 
 THE ROMANS IN GAl'T.. 67 
 
 during which the civilization of tlie cast abandoned the southern 
 shores of Gaul for the northern coasts of Africa, when Cartilage was 
 beginning to flourish. The Ségobriges, a free Gallic tribe among 
 the Ligures, extended then from the Var to the Ilhone, and the 
 western barbarism Avas beginning to efface the traces of eastern civi- 
 lization, when a Phocean vessel cast anchor on the east side of the 
 Rhone. Its captain was a young adventurer who had left Asia on 
 a voyage of discovery; he landed, and demanded hospitality from 
 the barbarous chief who ruled on those shores. 
 
 It happened by chance to be a holiday : King Nann was cele- 
 brating the marriage of his daughter, who was named Pella according 
 to Aristotle, and Gyptis according to Justin. All those warriors who 
 had pretensions to her hand had just sat down on bundles of hay and 
 straw, around a very low table, coveix'd with venison and cooked veget- 
 ables. At the end of the repast, the young bride, whose choice was not 
 yet known, had to enter, bearing in her hand a cup of Italian wine, for 
 the vine had not then been naturalized in Gaul, and to present this cup 
 to him whom she selected for her husband. It was at this moment that 
 Euxène presented himself. Nann rose to receive him — for in Gaul the 
 stranger was as welcome in the palace as in the hut — and, seating 
 him on his right hand, invited him to take part in the festivities. 
 
 Towards the end of the repast the door opened, and the daughter 
 of Nann appeared. She was one of the most beautiful maidens of 
 Gaul, with an elegant figure, as flexible as a reed, fair hair, and blue 
 eyes. She paused for a moment on the threshold to choose from 
 among tiiis assembly of warriors him who should be made the king. 
 It was then, in the midst of these savage soldiers of lofty stature, 
 Avith their hair reddened by the mineral water, and their moustaches 
 of the same colour, parted and fastened underneath the chin with a 
 metal clasp, that she perceived a young man of a beauty iinknown 
 in her own country. He had brown eyes and eyebrows, long black 
 hair, which was scented ; he wore a white chlamyde, which showed his 
 naked and somewhat effeminate arms, a cap, a tunic, and purple san- 
 dals. Whether from fascination or caprice, she could not remove her 
 gaze fî-om the stranger; she walked straight towards him, and, des- 
 pising the warriors ■'vho surrounded him, offered him the cup with a 
 sweet smile. Instantly all the guests rose, amid general murmuring. 
 But, says Aristotle, Nann thought he could recognise in this action 
 an impulse from above, and the wish of the gods. He stretched out 
 his hand to the Phocean, called him his son-in-law, and gave, as dowry 
 to his daughter, the very gulf where her husband had landed. 
 Euxène sent back his galley immediately to Phocis, with the third 
 part of his companions, who were ordered to recruit for colonists in 
 
 F 2
 
 te THE SOCTII OF FPwVXCE. 
 
 the mother country; ami with those who rtinained he cominciiccd the 
 foundations of a town on the promontory, which runs into the Med- 
 iterranean, and called it Massalia; at a later period, and successively, 
 it was called Marsilia by the Romans, Marsillo by the Provençaux, 
 and Marseille by the French. 
 
 In the meanwhile the messengers from Euxènc, having rctui-ncd 
 to I'hocis, narrated what they had seen, and how their captain had 
 become the son-in-law of a king, and the founder of a colony, and 
 begged for a new swarm from the maternal hive, in order to people 
 liis new town. At the recital of this wonderful history, adventurers 
 presented themselves in numbers; the public money supplied them 
 with provisions, utensils, and arms ; they provided themselves with 
 vines and olive ti-ees; and, at the moment of weighing anchor, they 
 transfcn'cd to Euxène's vessel a portion of the fire belonging to the 
 sacred hearth of Phocis, to be kept burning for ever at Massalia, 
 which thus received the emblem of life, — part of its mother's very 
 existence. The long Phocean galleys, which Herodotus states to 
 have possessed fifty oars, tiien set sail for Ephesus, whei'e the oracle 
 had ordered the emigrants to land. Here they found a woman of 
 noble family, w'ho had had a revelation from the great Ephesian 
 goddess, in which s'he had been ordered to take one of her statues 
 and cany it into Gaul. The Phoccans welcomed the priestess and 
 the divinity with joy, and, after a favourable passage, they landed 
 at Massalia, where Aristurchus established the worship of Diana. 
 
 Massalia thus grew in the midst of the surrounding nations, which 
 at first attempted to oppose its prosperity ; but, being soon occupied 
 themselves with internal quarrels, allowed it to build its houses of 
 thatch on its soil of sand. •' For," says Vitruvius, " they reserved 
 the marble which they obtained from Dauphiné, and their tiles, 
 which were formed of so light a clay that they floated in the water 
 like wood, for public or saciid buildings." However, the days of 
 downfall, wliich had already arrived for Tyre, and were not to be 
 long absent from Carthage, now came to Phoeis, the mother country. 
 Cj'rus, who had concpered a part of Asia Minor, ordered one of his 
 lieutenants to attack it. Aftir a heroic resistance, the besieged, 
 perceiving that tliev could iiold out no longer, thought of their com- 
 patnotH, who had found hospitality in the land of the west; and 
 carrying with them in their galleys tlieir most valuable goods, their 
 faniilicH, and their gods, they weighed anchor, after cxtingui.shing 
 that sacred fire in their temjiles, whicli tliey were to meet with again 
 in Gtinl and in CorHica, at .^IasKalia and at Alalia. 
 
 liut Corsica wn« at that time uncultivated. HesideB, the Phoccans 
 were Bailors, not ngritulfuriHtw ; they luid sixty galleys, and not onu
 
 TUK ROMANS IN GAUL. 69 
 
 plough. They turned pirates, and intercepted the trade between the 
 Carthaginians, the Sicilians, the Sjianiards, and the Etruscans. From 
 this time Carthage and Massalia Avere enemies, until they at length 
 became rivals; so that when Hannibal, by way of accomplishing the 
 oath which he had made as a child to his father, formed the gigantic 
 project which was to have made Carthage the queen of the world, he 
 had hardly made his appearance on the summit of the Pyrenees, than, 
 owing to the exertions of the Massaliotes, Kome was informed of the 
 danger which threatened her, and knew where she could find a friendly 
 port to send her vessels to, and a road leading from it foi her legions 
 to march along and oppose the passage of the llhone and the Alps. 
 
 "When we get deeper into the south, we shall endeavour to discover 
 the traces of that wonderful passage ; but at the present moment we 
 are dealing with the fortune of ÏNIussalia, not of Rome. The results of 
 the second Punic war were immensely advantageous to it. Massalia 
 inherited the whole of the trade with Africa, Spain, Greece, and 
 Sicily. The Roman eagle, being unable to devour all, abandoned its 
 leavings to the Massiliot lion ; and for a brief moment the Phocis of 
 the west collected in its port the trade of the Avhole world, from which 
 T^-re, Carthage, and Rhodes had disappeared. Then it was that she 
 considered that her power could not be solidly established unless she 
 became a territorial as well as a maritime power, and made some ad- 
 vances on the right bank of the Var. These advances raised her old 
 enemies from theii' sleep : the Ligures, the Oxibes, and the Dcccates. 
 They rose simultaneously, ill-recovered as they were from their ancient 
 hatred, and invested Antipolis and Nienca,* two of the principal colo- 
 nies of jNIassalia. The daughter of Phocis, in her turn, threatened in 
 her own possessions, sent ambassadors to Rome to complain of their 
 neighboui's. Rome delegated certain arbiters, who were ordered to 
 pronounce on the differences which had just arisen. The galley which 
 bore the three heralds of conciliation landed at Œgitna, which be- 
 longed to the Oxibes. This people, being exasperated at the sight of 
 these strangers, who had constituted themselves judges in the matter 
 of their dispute, attacked them the moment they disembarked. Two 
 of the Romans fell at the first blow, and Flaminius, who endeavoured 
 to defend himself, was sorely wounded. However, he effected the re- 
 treat of his companions and regained the vessel, but pursued so closely 
 that he had not time to draw up the anchor, but was obliged to cut 
 the cables. This was more than enough for tlie warlike policy of 
 Rome, who, now that Italy was subjected and Carthage conquered, 
 already aimed at the empire of the world. She appointed the consul, 
 Quintus Opimius, to take satisfaction for the otfcncc, and placed four 
 
 • Antibes and Nice.
 
 ■h) TIIK SOl'TH OF FRANCE. 
 
 legions at his orders. The consul assembled them at Placentia, con- 
 ducted thcni across the Apennines, traversed the CoUo di Tenda at 
 their head, and descended into the country of tlie Oxibes by the old 
 Tyrian road which Hercules had formed in the middle of the clouds. 
 
 The Oxibes and their allies, the ])eccates and the Ligures, were 
 conquered, and their land given over to the Massaliotcs; while Koine, to 
 be certain that the treaty was can-icd out with exactitude, left her legions 
 in the military positions and principal towns of the conquered enemy. 
 Two consuls succeeded Ci. Opimius. The first was M. Fulvius 
 Flaccus, who, on a fresh complaint from the Massaliotcs, declared war 
 against the Salytes and the Vocontii, and conciuered them as his pre- 
 decessor had conquered the Oxibes, the Deccates, and the Ligures; 
 the second was C. Sextius Calvinus, who, carrying his legions along 
 the entire shore, drove back the Vocontii beyond the Iser, and forced 
 all the inhabitants of the plain into the mountains, forbidding their 
 approach within fifteen handled paces of the landing-places, and a 
 thousand from any other part of the coast. 
 
 In the meanwhile Avinter came, and Caius Sextius ceased hostili- 
 ties, and took up his quarters on a little hill situated at some leagues 
 from Massalia. He had determined upon this locality in consequence 
 of the almost miraculous co-existence there of a river and sjirings of 
 cold and hot water ; and he had no sooner seen how mucii miglit be 
 made of so admirable a spot, than tlic ambition of founding a Roman 
 colony, and giving his own name to a town, made him ciiange his 
 palisades into walls and his ticnts into houses. The rising city took 
 the name o( Aqiiœ Scxtite, and tiiis was the first town the llonnuis 
 possessed on the transalpine territory. 
 
 As for Lyons, where we have now arrived, the town was so small 
 at the time of the conquest of the Gauls, that C;vsar passed by it 
 without seeing it, and without naming it; but he made a halt on the 
 hill where Fourvières now stand», .stationed his legions there, and sur- 
 rounded his temporary camj) witli lines so deep that nineteen centuries, 
 which liave passed since, have been unable to till up entirely those 
 trenrlus which lie dug with the ))()int of iiis sword. 
 
 Some time after the deatii of this conipuror, who subjugated three 
 hundred nations, one of his clients named Lucius, with an escort of 
 a few soldiers who had remained faithful to the memory of their ge- 
 neral, and seeking a i)lace for the foundation of a colony, were stopped 
 at the confluence of the llhoiie and tlu; Saone by a suflicicntly largo 
 number of Viennese, wlio, being trampled on by the tribes of the Allo- 
 brogi, liad come down from their mountains and elected their tents 
 on this tongue of land, which was fortified naturally by immense 
 canals formed by the liiind of (Jod. and in wliich a laigc stream and a
 
 THE ROMANS IN GAUL. 71 
 
 Vulct flowed with abundance of water. The pro.sci-i])od made a 
 treaty of alliance with the conquered, and, under the name of Lucii 
 Dunum, the foundations of that town soon arose, which, in a short 
 time was to become the citadel of the Gauls, and the centre of com- 
 munication for the four grand ways traced out by Agrippa, and which 
 ai-e still indicated in modern France from the Alps to the Ilhine, and 
 from the Mediterranean to the ocean. 
 
 Sixty cities of Gaul acknowledged Lucii Dunum for their queen, 
 and at their joint expense erected a temple there to Augustus, whom 
 they acknowledged as their god. 
 
 Lucii Dunum was only one century old, and this city of the day 
 l)cfore already challenged the magnificence of j\Iassalia the Greek, 
 and Narbo the lloman, when a fire, which was attributed to light- 
 ning, reduced it to ashes; "and this so rapidly," says Seneca, the con- 
 cise historian of this vast conflagration, " that between an immense 
 town and no town at all, there was but the space of one night." 
 
 Trajan took pity on it. Under his powerful protection Lucii 
 Dunum began to rise from its ruins. In a short time a magnificent 
 edifice, intended as a public market, sprung up on the hill which 
 overlooked the town. Hardly was it open than the Bretons hastened 
 there with their bucklers of many colours, and the Iberians with those 
 weajjons of steel which they alone knew how to temper. At the same 
 time Corinth and Athens sent, by way of Marseilles, their paintings 
 on wood, their sculjjtures, and tlicir bronze statues ; Africa transmitted 
 its lions and tigers thirsting for the blood of the amphitheatres ; and 
 Persia its horses so light that they equalled the reputation of the 
 Numidian coursers, " whose mothers," says Herodotus, " were made 
 fi'uitful by the breath of the wind." 
 
 This monument, which crumbled away about the year S40 of the 
 Christian era, is called by the authors of the ninth century. Forum 
 Vetus, and by those of the fifteenth. Fort- Viel ; but of this compound 
 word the moderns have formed Fourvières, the name which is still 
 borne by the hill on which it was built. 
 
 Lyons followed the destiny of the other lioman colonies. At the 
 period of the downfall of the metropolis, she threw off its rule, and, 
 uniting herself to the kingdom of France in 532, from that time mixes 
 up her history with our own. A lioman colony under the Caesars, 
 and the second town in France under our kings, the tribute of illus- 
 trious names which she paid to Rome as an allj* were those of Ger- 
 manicus, Claudius, Caracalla, Marcus Aurclius, Sidonius, Apollina- 
 rius, and Ambrosius ; those which she gave to France as an ally were 
 Philibert de Lorme, Coustou, Coysccox, Suchet, Duphot, Camille 
 ordan, Lemontey, Lemot, Dugas Montbel, and Balianchc.
 
 ■Ai'' ^•'. '>-7;-;> 
 
 GENCILVL VILW OT l.\u 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CINQ-MARS AND DE THOU. 
 
 TlIRKF. monuments arc still standinjj at Lyons, wliich seem like marks 
 placed there by diHcrent centuries, at almost ccjual distances, as types 
 of the proj,'rcss and decay of the architectural art: these are the 
 Church of Ainay, the Cathedral of St. John, and the Hotel de Ville. 
 The first of these buildings is contemporary -with Charles the Great, 
 the second with Saint Louis, and the third with Louis XIV. 
 
 The church of Ainay is built on the exact site of the templ(> wliich 
 the sixty nations of Ciaul raised to Aufi^ustus. The four pillars of 
 granite which sustain the dome are even borrowed by^tlie Ciiristian 
 sister from her Pagan brother. At first there were only two columns, 
 each double the size of those now seen, aud surniimnted with a statue 
 of Victory. The architect who built Ainaj- caused them to be cut 
 through the middle, in order that they miglit not interfere with the 
 Jlomaii character of the rest of the edilicc». 
 
 The height of each is nearly thirteen feet, from which it may be 
 supposed, that in their original state, when the four only formed two, 
 each of these measured, ut leiwt, twenty-six feet. 
 
 Above the princi^jal entrance is un untitjue bas-relief, representing
 
 CINQ-MARS AND DE THOU. Ti 
 
 thi'ee women holding fruit in thcir hands. Beneath these f.gui-es 
 are the following abridged words : — 
 
 Mat. Ave. Ph. E. Med. 
 
 They ai'C thus explained : — 
 
 Matronis Augustis, Philexus EoNATicrs, Medicvs. 
 
 The Cathedral of St. John does not at first appear to be so old as 
 it is said to be. Its portico and façade evidently belong to tlic 
 fourteenth centirry, and were either rebuilt or else finished at that 
 period. However, the real proof of the date of its birth is to be 
 found by the archaeologist in the architectui-e of the nave, the stones 
 of which bear all the trace of souvenirs brought back from the 
 Crusades, and exhibit the progress which oriental art has just 
 effected among the nations of the west. 
 
 One of the chapels which form the sides of the church, and which 
 generally extended to the number of seven, in memory of the Seven 
 Mysteries, or twelve, in honour- of the Twelve Apostles, is called the 
 Chapelle Bourbon. The motto of the cardinal, which consi.sts of 
 these three words, N'espoir ne peur, is reproduced in several places. 
 Pierre de Bourbon, his brother, added a P. and an A., interwoven ; 
 these letters being the initial of his Christian name and that of Anne 
 of France, his wife. As for the chardons, (thistles) with which it is 
 adorned, they are intended to indicate that the king made him a 
 cher don in giving him his daughter. We are anxious to state, that 
 the carving is better than the pun. 
 
 One of the fom* steeples, which, contrary to the architectural rules 
 of the period, flank the building at each corner, contains one of the 
 largest bells in France — it weighs thii'ty-six thousand pounds. 
 
 The Hotel de Ville, situate on the Place des Terreaux, is probably 
 the edifice which Lyons takes the greatest pleasm-e in showing to 
 strangers. Its façade, erected after a design by Simon jMaupin, pre- 
 sents all the characteristics of the cold and heavy grandeur- of the 
 architecture of Louis XIV. In descending its steps, the visitor finds 
 himself in the presence of one of the most terrible histoi'ical 
 associations connected with the criminal history of France : at his 
 feet is the ground which received the falling heads of Cinq-^Iars 
 and De Thou. 
 
 Thanks to Alfred de Vigny's beautiful novel, this fatal event has 
 been made popular in the present day ; the scene which closes it is 
 one of the most beautiful ever imagined, and written ; and we think 
 we shall give our readers pleasure, by affording them the opportunity 
 of placing the positive and naked statement preserved by the pen of 
 the recorder, by the side of the romance which has emanated from
 
 74 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 the poet's brain. Thus those two great goddesses will be seen toge- 
 ther, of whom one presides over poetry, the other over history ; the 
 one Imagination, the other Truth: — 
 
 ''On Friday, September 12th, 1642, the chancellor entered the 
 court-house at seven in the morning, accompanied by the commission- 
 ers deputed by the king, for the process of M. M. Cinq-Mars and De 
 Thou. 
 
 "The advocate-general of the king at the parliament of ])au- 
 phine, on this occasion, did the duty of tlic advocate of the king. 
 
 " When they had arrived at the council-chamber, the officer on 
 guard was sent to the chateau of Pierre Cize, to fetch M. de Cinq- 
 Mars, who was brought to the court at eight o'clock in a hired car- 
 riage. On entering, he said, » Where are we?' He was told that 
 he was at the court, upon which he appeared satisfied, and ascended 
 the staicase with much resolution. 
 
 " He was then called into tlie council-cliamlier, before Û\o judges, 
 and remained there about an hour and a quarter. 
 
 " .\t about nine o'clock the chancellor sent the officer on guard a 
 second time to the castle of Picrre-Cize, and, with the same hack- 
 cairiage, in search of M. de Thou. 
 
 " About an liour afterwards, M. dc I-aubardemont, counsellor to 
 the i)arliament of Grenoble, and M. Kobert dc Saint-Germain, left 
 the room, to prepare the prisoners for their sentences, and to reconcile 
 them to death. This they did, and cxJiorted them to call forth all 
 their strength of mind and courage, in order to show their resolution 
 at a time which unnerves the most firm. At tliis they fortified their 
 minds, and gave evidence of a most extraordimiry resolution, avowing 
 that they were really guilty and deserved to die. M. de Thou then, 
 laughin^'ly, said to M. de Cinq-Mars : ' Well, sir, I consider that, as a 
 man, I mif,'lit complain of you ; you were my accuser, and you are 
 tlie cause of my death ; but CJod knows how well I love you ! Let 
 us die, sir, — let us die courageously, — and let us go to paradise! 
 Duy then embraced, saying, that since they had lived sucli good 
 friends all their lives, it was a great consolation for them to die 
 together. 
 
 "They next embraced tlie rommissaries, assuring them that they 
 felt no regret at dyinj,', but that they lioped tliat death would be the 
 commencement of their ha])piness. l'allenie, the criminal recorder of 
 tlic juchidial of Lyons, wiw then called to read their sentence to them. 
 " .After sentence was declared, ^L <le Thou said witii great feeling: 
 'God be blessed! God be ])niised !' He then |.fave utterance to some 
 luautiful words with an incredible fervour, and which lasted him till 
 deutlu AL do Cinq-Mars, aft*r the declaration of the sentence which
 
 CINQ-MARS AND DE TIIOU. 75 
 
 condemned him to the torture, said : 'Death docs not friglitcn me; 
 but I must own that tlie infamy of tlie torture shocks me. Yes, 
 gentlemen, and I think it very extraordinary that it sliould be ap- 
 plied to a man of my rank and age. I beUeve that the law proteets 
 me from it ; at all events, I have heard so. Death does not frighten 
 me ; but, gentlemen, I own my weakness, I cannot bear to tliink of 
 the torture.' 
 
 " Each then asked for his confessor : M. de Cinq-Mars for Father 
 Malavette, a Jesuit; and M. de Thou for Father Maubrun, also a 
 Jesuit. The person in whose charge De Thou and Cinq-Mars had 
 hitherto been, now, by the order of the chancellor, placed them 
 in the liands of M. Thome, provost-gcncral of the marshals of the 
 Lyonnais. 
 
 " Father ^lalavette having come, M. de Cinq-^NIars embraced him, 
 saying : ' Father, they wish to put me to the tortm-e, and I have 
 great trouble in making up my mind to it.' The priest consoled him, 
 and fortified his mind as much as possible in this unfortunate afi'aii-. 
 He was at length resolved ; and when M. de Laubardcmont and the 
 recorder approached him, in order to take him to the chamber of 
 tortm-e, he felt quite reassm-cd, and, on passing M. de Thou, he verj- 
 coldly said to him : ' Sir, we are both condemned to die ; but I am 
 much more unfortunate than you, for, besides death, I have to suffer 
 the tortm-e, ordinary and extraordinary.* 
 
 " They then took him to the chamber of torture, and on passing 
 by a room full of prisoners, he said : ' My God, where are you taking 
 me to ?' And then he continued, saying : ' How horribly it smells i' 
 He remained half an horn- in tlie chamber of torture, and they then 
 took him back witliout his being touched, inasmuch as it had been 
 said in the retentutn of the sentence that he should only be presented 
 to the torture. On his retui-n, the person who brought him back bid 
 him adieu in the chamber of audience, and, after having conversed 
 with him a short time, he departed with tears in his eyes. 
 
 " M. de Thou then embraced M. de Cinq-]\Iars, exliorting liim to 
 die firmly, and not to fear death. Cinq-Mars replied, that he never 
 had feared to die, and that he had not expected to escape death for 
 one instant since his captm-e. They remained together for about a 
 quarter of an hour, during which they embraced two or three times, 
 and asked pardon of each other with demonstrations of the most 
 perfect friendship. 
 
 " Their conference was ended by M. de Cinq-Mars sapng, ' It is 
 now time to put an end to our conversation.' 
 
 " Quitting M. de Thou, he asked for a separate room wherein to 
 confess liimself, which he had great trouble in obtaining ; he then
 
 76 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 made a general confession of all his life, and expressed his repentance 
 at evi.r having offended God. He hcggcd his confessor to be;u' wit- 
 ness to the king and to the cardinal of the great regret he felt at his 
 fault, and to say that lie most humbly asked theh* pardon. 
 
 '• His confession lasted about an hour ; and he then told the priest 
 that he had eaten nothing for the lust twenty-fom- hom-s, and the 
 priest went and fetched him some fresh eggs and wine ; but he only 
 took a very small piece of bread, and a little A\-ine and water, ^^^th 
 which he merely washed his mouth out. He told the priest that 
 nothing so much astonished him as tincUng himself abandoned by all 
 hisû-iends; and he told him that all tlie time he had been in the 
 good graces of the king, he had been trying to make friends, and that 
 he had pei'suaded himself that he had succeeded, but tliat he now 
 knew that all friendship was but dissimulation. The priest told him 
 that that had always been the way of tlie world, and that he ought 
 not to feel sui-priscd at it ; he then recited those two lines from 0\id : 
 
 Donee cris felis, multos numcrabis amicos : 
 Tempera si fuerint iiubila, solus oris. 
 
 " Cinq-Mars repeated them two or three times, so much were 
 they to his ta.ste; and, having learnt them by heart, he again repeated 
 them several times. 
 
 " He then asked for pen, ink, and paper, in order to write to his 
 mother, whom he begged, amongst other things, to i)ay certain debts, 
 the bills of which lie delivered up to tlie priest for her, that he might 
 fii-st show them to the chancellor. The substance of his letter was 
 a request that she would cause m;isses to be said lor the salvation of 
 his soul. He ended in the following manner : ' For the rest, madam, 
 a-s many steps as I next take will bo the number of steps that will 
 cany me to death.' 
 
 "In the meanwhile M. dc Thou was in the clmniber of audience 
 with his confessor, and was in the most divine transjwrts. As soon 
 a.s he saw his confessor, he ran and embrucid him, saying: 'Father, I 
 um out of all trouble ; we are condemned to death, and you have come 
 to show me the way to heaven. Ah ! wliat a short distance it is 
 from life to death! What a very short road it is! ('ome, father, let 
 us go to death, let us go to heaven, let us go to true glory! Alas! 
 what good can I ever have done to enable me to receive so much 
 kimlne.sH in according me an ignominious death, in order that I ma}' 
 attain koohct to a life eteniallj' glonou» P'" 
 
 I must here employ the simjjle account of this good father, who 
 relates what he witnessed as follows: — 
 
 " Will n M. di.- Thou s'lw me in the audience chamber willi him,
 
 CINQ-MAES AND DF, THOU. 71 
 
 he embraced mc, saying that he was condemned to deuiu, and that 
 he wished to employ the short time that was remaining to him in 
 this life in a proper manner, and begged of mc not to leave him, but 
 to assist him to the last. ' Father,' said he, ' since they have pro- 
 nounced sentence on me, I feel more tranquil tlian I did before. 
 The awaital of the sentence, and the issue of the affair- generally, put 
 me in a state of perplexity and disquietude. I will now tliink no 
 more of the things of this world, but of paradise and of death. I 
 I have no bitter feelings nor ill-will towai-ds any one. ISIy judges 
 have judged me like honest men, equitably and accordingly to the 
 laws. God has thought fit to make use of them, in order to place me 
 in his paradise, and has been Avilling to take me to him at a time 
 when, thi'ough his goodjiess and mercy, I tliink I am prepared for 
 death ; for I can do nothing of myself, and the firmness and little 
 corn-age that I possess are proofs of his favom'.' 
 
 " He then repeated several short prayers, for the love of God and 
 in contrition and repentance for his numerous sins, and called on him 
 repeatedly. It must here be remarked, that dui'ing the first three 
 months of his imprisonment he had prepared himself for death by 
 taking the sacrament, by praying, by meditation and reflection on 
 the divine mysteries, by communication with his spii-itual pastors, 
 and by reading religious books, pai'ticidai-ly one by Bellarmin 
 on the Psalms, and another called De Arte bene morieruli, by the 
 same author. He selected certain verses fi-om the Psalms for his 
 short prayers, and told me that he understood and appreciated 
 these sentences ù-orn the Holy Scriptui-es more deeply than he did 
 formerly. 
 
 " He saluted all those whom he saw in the room where we were, 
 desii-ed that he might be men$oned in theii- prayers, and held them 
 to witness that he died contQp.;jt'dly, and that the judges had judged 
 liim justly and according to Wk. Seeing ]\I. de Laubardemont, who 
 had been the reporter on the trial, approaching, he went to him, 
 embraced him, and thanked him for his judgment, saying : ' You 
 judged me like an honest man ;' and this with so much tenderness 
 and cordiality that he di-ew tears, not only fi-om his assistants and 
 guai'ds, but fi-om the judge, who cried bitterly whilst embracing 
 him. 
 
 " A man sent by Madame de Pontac, his sister, came to bid him 
 her last adieu. INI. de Thou, thiuldng that it was the executioner, 
 ran towards him, saying: 'It is yourwho are to send me to heaven 
 to-day.' But on being told that he was a man sent by his sister, he 
 said to him : " Friend, I beg your pai-don ; it is so long since I have 
 seen you, that I did not know you. Tell my sister that I hope she
 
 T8 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 will continue in lier devotions, and tlmt I now know better than ever 
 that this world is one mass of I'alseliood and vanity; that I die con- 
 tented, and a good Christian ; and say that I beg she will pray to 
 God for me, and not pity me any more, as I hope to find happiness 
 in deatli. Adieu.' The man went away without saying a single 
 word ; and De Thou felt his strength and com-age so great for death, 
 that he was afraid it was vanity, and, tui'ning to me, said : ' Father, 
 is there no vanity in this? O God, I protest before your Divine 
 Majesty that I can do nothing of myself, and that all my corn-age 
 comes from your goodness and mercy, and that if you leave me, I 
 should totter at every step.' 
 
 " lie asked now and then if the hour for going thence to the place 
 of execution liad arrived ; he begged he might be told when the 
 executioner came, that he might embrace him ; but he did not see 
 him until he was on the seatlbld. 
 
 " About three o'clock in the afternoon, four companies of the 
 Lyons citizens, making altogether about twelve hundred men, were 
 di-awn up in the midst of the Place des Terreaux, so that they shut 
 in a space of about eighty puces square, within which no one, unless 
 absolutely required, was allowed to enter. 
 
 " In the midst of this space a scaffold was erected, about seven 
 feet in height, and about nine feet square ; in tlie centre of which, 
 a little towards the front, a portion was raised to the height of about 
 tlu'ce feet, and before it was placed a block of the height of half a foot, 
 so tliat the front of tlie scalfold looked towards the Houclicrie des 
 Terreaux, by the side of tlie Saone ; and against the scaH'old, on the 
 same side as tlie Daines de St. Pierre, was i)laced a ladder with eight 
 steps. All the houses, all the windows, walls, roofs, and scaffoldings 
 (jrectcd for the purpose, and all the points, in short, commanding a 
 view of the place, were filled with i)ersons of cverj' condition, age, 
 and sex. 
 
 "At about five o'clock the officers asked Father Malavette's com- 
 panion to tell him that it was time to depart. M. de C'iiiq-Mars 
 judged what was wanted from seeing the hiy-brolher whi.sj)eriiig to 
 the confessor. 
 
 "'They arc in a hurry,' said hv, 'and we must go.' 
 
 "One of the officers, however, hlill detained him some time in his 
 room, upon leaving which, the valft ilr chambre, who liad served him 
 ever bince Montpellier, iiresented himself and asked for some recom- 
 jiensc for liis long services. ' I have nothing to give,' said Oinq- 
 Mars; 'for I have given away everything that belonged to me.' Kc 
 then went into the chamber of audience to M. de Thou, and said to 
 him : ' J.et u» go, «ir, for it is time.' M. de Thou then said : ' Latatiu
 
 CINQ-MARS AND UE TUOU. 79 
 
 sum in hts guœ dicta sunt milii, in domum Domini ibimus.^ They 
 tlien embraced and left the room. 
 
 " M. de Cinq-Mars -walked first, holding Father Malavctte's hand 
 as far as the door-steps ; he then stopped, and saluted the people with 
 so much grace and kindness, that every one present shed tears but 
 liimself, and he remained as firm as he had ever been, and continued 
 so the whole of the way excepting once, when, on seeing the priest 
 give way to tender feelings at the sight of the tears shed by all 
 around, he said : ' How is it, father, that you are more sensible to my 
 interests than I am myself?' 
 
 " M. Thome, provost of Lyons, Avith the archers of the short robe, 
 and the officer on guard -with his men, now received orders to lead 
 them to the place of execution. 
 
 " M. de Thou, whilst on the steps of the palace, seeing a carriage 
 awaiting them, tm-ncd towards M. de Cinq-Mars, and said : ' "WTiat ? 
 are they going to take us in a ciUTiage P Is that the way they take 
 \is to paradise ? Why, I expected to be bound, and taken in a heai'se ; 
 these gentlemen treat us very kindly in not binding us, and in taking 
 us in a carriage.' As he was getting into the carriage, he said to 
 two of the soldiers on guard : ' See my friends, we are going to be 
 taken to heaven in a carriage!' M. de Cinq-^SIars was di-essed in a 
 handsome bro-wn coat made of the best Holland cloth, and covered 
 Avith gold lace two fingers wide ; liis hat A\as turned up à la catcdane ; 
 he had green silk stockings, over which were white lace ones, and 
 a scarlet cloak. 
 
 " M. de Thou was di-essed in a suit of mourning made of Spanish 
 cloth, and a short cloak. They both seated themselves at the back 
 p£u-t of the carriage, M. de Thou sitting on the right side of M. de 
 Cinq-Mars ; and there were two Jesuits at each door, namely, the 
 confessors, with their companions ; there was no one in the front part 
 of the carriage. 
 
 "The executioner followed on foot; he was a street porter, an 
 elderly man of migainly figure, and dressed like the men who work 
 for the masons ; he had never taken part at an execution, but had 
 reserved himself entii-ely for the torture chamber, and would not 
 now have come forward had there not been but one regular execu- 
 tioner in Lyons, and he had broken his leg. 
 
 " They went over the Litany, the Miserere, and other prayers and 
 short orisons in the carriage ; they discom-sed on eternity, on the con- 
 stancy of martyrs, and of the torments thcj had undergone. They 
 saluted the people, with whom the streets were filled, from time to 
 time with great civility. 
 
 " A short time afterwards, M. de Thou said to >L de Cinq-Mars :
 
 ^0 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 * Sir, I wonder you do not feel more regret at dpng tlian myself ; 
 you ai-e younger, and you rank higher in the world ; you had great 
 hopes, and you were the favourite of a great king ; but let uic- tell 
 you, sii-, that you are right in not regretting it, for, after all, Mhat I 
 have mentioned is notliiug ; we might have been lost, we might have 
 been damned, and God will now save us. I hold our death to be an 
 infalHblo mark of oiu- predestination, and we ought to feel more 
 thankful to God than if he had given us all the riches of tliis world.' 
 ITiese words alnnJfet moved M. dc Cinq-Mars to teai's. They from 
 time to time inquired whether they Averc fai" from the scaflbld, upon 
 which. Father Malavctte asked M. de Cinq-Mars whether he did not 
 feai- death. ' Not at all, father,' answered he ; ' and it is for that vcrj- 
 reason that I am troubled. Alas ! I fear nothing but my sins :' tliis 
 fear had moved him strongly since liis confession. 
 
 " As they approached the Place des Terreaux, Father Maubrun ex- 
 horted M. de Thou to seek for pardon by means of a medal that he 
 had given him, over which he was to say ' Jesus' three times. 
 
 *• On hearing tliis, M. de Cinq-Mars said to M. de Thou : ' Sir, as 
 I shall die first, lend me your medal to join to mine, and when I am 
 gone the executioner Asnll take care of them for you. Then came 
 a discussion as to which of the two ought to die first. 
 
 " M. de Cinq-Mars said that he ought to do so, as he was the most 
 wicked and the first sentenced, adding that if ho was to die last it 
 would be as bad as lulling him twice ; M. dc Thou demanded the 
 right of dying first, as lie was the eldest ; but Fatlier Malavctte now 
 spoke, and said to M. de Thou : ' Sir, you aie the oldest, luid jou 
 ought to be the most generous.' M. de Cin(j-Mars being of tlic same 
 opinion, M. do Thou replied : ' Very well, sir ; you open the road to 
 gloiy for me!' 'I descend the precipice before you,' said M. de 
 Cint^-Mai-s ; ' but we only prccijjitate ourselves into death in order 
 to rise to life eternal.' leather Malavctte liere ended the controversy 
 in favour of M. de Cinq-Mars, judging that it was better that he 
 should die first. 
 
 " On neoring the scaffold, M. dc Thou stoojied, and, on beholding 
 it, stretched out liis arms and clapped liis hands in a lively manner; 
 and with a face snn'Iing, as though he was delighted at the sight, and 
 turning to M. de Cinq-Mars, lie said: ' Sir, it is from here that we 
 hoi)e to go to paradise!' Tlien turning towards his confessor, lie 
 baid: 'Is it rigtt tliat so witked a person as I am should to-day take 
 pofwcssion of eternal linjijiincss ?' 
 
 "The carriage slo]ip( d at llie foot of tlie scafFold. The jirovost 
 having conic to tell M. dc Cinq-Mars tliat he was to ascend first, 
 he liade M. dc Tliou good-bye \\'\{h a sliow of great affection, saying
 
 CINQ-MAHS AND DE TIIOU. 81 
 
 tlaat they should soon see each other in another world, a\ here they 
 would be eternally united to God. M. de Cinq-Mars then descended 
 from the carriage, holding his head up with a smiling countenance. 
 An archer of the provost's having come forward to demand his cloak, 
 saying that it belonged to liim, the confessor advanced and prevented 
 him taking it, and asked the provost whether the archers had any 
 right to it. Being answered in the negative, the priest told Cinq- 
 Mars that he might dispose of it in whatever manner pleased him 
 best. Cinq-Mai's tlicu gave it to the Jesuit who accompanied the 
 priest, saying that he gave it to him in the ho^jes that he woidd pray 
 to God for him. 
 
 " After the three customary sounds of the trumpet, Pallerue, the 
 criminal recorder of Lyons, who was seated on horseback near the 
 scaffold, read aloud their sentence, but they neither of them heard a 
 word of it. The attendants now placed a blind over the window of 
 the carriage at the side next the scaffold, in order to prevent M. de 
 Thou from seeing what was going on. 
 
 " After having saluted those who were nearest the scaffold, iM. 
 de Cinq-Mars gaily mounted the ladder. Whilst on the second step, 
 the provost's archer advanced on horseback and took his hat from oif 
 his head ; he stopped, and turning round, said, ' Leave me my hat.' 
 The provost, who was by, was very angiy with the archer, who im- 
 mediately replaced the hat upon his head, and after arranging it as 
 suited him best, he ascended the ladder com-ageously. 
 
 " He took a tiu-n upon the scaffold as he would have done had he 
 been walking upon the stage of a theatre. He then stopped and 
 saluted all those who were in sight, with a smiling countenance. 
 He afterwards placed himself in a firm postui'c, with one foot forward 
 and his hand to his side. He looked on the immense assembly with 
 a collected expression, and then took two or tliree turns. 
 
 " His confessor having ascended, he embraced him, tJu'Owing his 
 hat befoi-e him on the scaffold. The priest exhorted him to perform 
 some acts of devotion towards God, and he did so with great ardour. 
 
 " He then went on his knees at the feet of his confessor, who gave 
 him the last absolution, which having received with humility, he rose 
 and went and placed himself on liis knees on the block, and said, • Is 
 it hei'e, Father, that I must place myself?" And as he knew that 
 it was there, he laid his neck down ; then, getting up, he asked whether 
 it was necessary for him to take off his doublet ; and being answered 
 in the affirmative, commenced undi-essing, and said to the priest, 
 * Fatlier, I beg of you to help me.' The priest and his companions 
 tlien helped liim to mibutton and take off his doublet. He kept on 
 his gloves, which the executioner took off after liis death. 
 
 O
 
 82 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 *• 'Hie executioner then -went up to him -with his scissors in his 
 hand, in order to cut ott' his hair: but M. de Cinq-Mars took them out 
 of his hand, not wishing that he sliould touch him, kissed them, and 
 gave them to fhe priest, saying, ' Father, I beg you will giant me a 
 last service in cutting my haii-.' The priest gave them to )iis com- 
 panion, so that he might do it, and he did it. He looked calmly 
 on the people who were round the scaflbld, and said to the priest, 
 ' Cut it properly. I beg of you.' Then raising his eyes towards hea- 
 ven, he said, ' Ah, my God ! what is the world composed of?" After 
 his hair was eut, he Ufted his hands to his head, in order to arrange 
 it properly ; the executioner, who had come close to him, retli-ed at 
 a sign made by Cinq->hus, who took the crucifix and kissed it, after 
 which he again knelt upon the block before the post, which he em- 
 braced, and on seeing a man beloiiging to the Grand Master, he 
 saluted him and said, ' I beg that you will tell M. de la Melleniye 
 that I am his most humble servant.' Then, after having ])aused for a 
 minute, he continued, ' Tell him that 1 hope he will pray for me.' 
 These were his omii words. 
 
 " The executioner now came beliind with his scissors, in order to 
 cut off tlie collar which «'as fastened to liis shirt. After having had 
 his collar taken off, he opened his shirt, in order to expose his neck 
 better, and then joined his hands upon the block, wliich served him 
 as an altar, and commenced praying. 
 
 " 'I'hey offered him the crucifix, which he took in his right hand, 
 holding the block with his left, he kissed it, returned it, and asked 
 his confessor's conipanion for his medals, which he kissid, after hav- 
 ing said ' Jesus' three times. He then returned them ; and turning 
 towards the executioner, wlio was standing close by, but who had not 
 yet taken his axe from out of a hag that he had brought u])on tlie 
 scaffold, lie said, ' What are you doing? AVhat are you waiting for ." 
 His confessor having drawn back to tlie ladder, here called him, say- 
 ing, 'Come, Father, and help me to pray to God.' Ho approaclied, 
 and kneeling down by tin' side of Cinq-Mars, recited in a clear voice, 
 and with great feeling, the Salro liniiiui, weighing each word, particu- 
 larly when he arrived at Kt Jesmn hmrdirtiiw frurtiim mifn's fid 
 noliin post hoc vjiliiini osfrndf, \c. He then bowed down his liend, 
 raising his eyes with devotion to heaven, and with an exjn-ession of 
 delight. The confessor here begged of those» who were j)resent to 
 Hay a I'afrr uoKfcr and an Are Mm in. 
 
 " Wliilst tliis was going on, the executionc'r had drawn his axe 
 (wliich was something like those used by butchers, only larger and 
 more square) from out of his bag. Cinq-Mars, after having raised 
 liis eyes to heaven, said with great finnness, 'Do yom* work ! God
 
 CINQ-MARS AND DE TUOU. 83 
 
 have pîtv on me!' Then, with the most incredible firmness, he 
 balanced his neck upon the block, with his face towards the front of 
 the scaffold. IIoldin<^ the block tightly in his arms, he shut his eyes 
 and month, and awaited the blow from the executioner, who was 
 standing on liis left side, holding the axe in both hands. On receiving 
 the blow, he cried out in a loud voice, ' Ah ! ' to the executioner, who 
 was nearly smothered by the blood ; he then lifted his knees from off 
 the block, as though he were going to get up, but he fell back in the 
 same position. 
 
 " The head not being entirely separated from the body, the exe- 
 cutioner passed behind him to his right, and taking the hair of the 
 head in his right hand and the axe in his left, cut the tracheal arteiy, 
 and a part of the skin that had not been divided ; after which he threw 
 the head upon the scaffold, from whence it bounded to the earth, 
 when it was remarked that it turned half round and palpitated for a 
 short time. The face was turned towards the convent of Saint PieiTe, 
 and the top of the head towards the scaffold, with the eyes open. 
 
 "The body remained as straight as the post which it held in its 
 embrace, till the executioner drew it away, in order to strip it. He 
 then put a sheet over it, and covered it ■\\T[th his mantle. The head 
 having been replaced on the scaffold, it was laid by the body under 
 the same sheet. 
 
 '* M. de Cinq-Mars being dead, they opened the door of the car 
 riage, and ^l. de Thou came out ^vith a smiling countenance, and afte . 
 saluting those who were nearest, ascended the scaffold quickly, hold- 
 ing liis mantle on his riglit arm, as, with outstretched arms he em- 
 braced his executioner, saying, » Ah, my brother, my dear friend, 
 b.ow much I love you ! I must embrace you since you are to-day 
 going to send me to eternal happiness.' Then turning towards the 
 front of the scaffold, he took off his hat and bowed to all present. 
 He then threw away his hat, which fell at the feet of M. de Cinq- 
 Mars. Then turning towards his confessor, he said with great 
 ardour, ' Father, spcctaculton facti sinnus mundo, et angelis, ct 
 hominihusJ 
 
 " The priest naving recited a prayer, to which he listened verv 
 attentively, he said that he had still something to say wliich concerned 
 his conscience. He then knelt down and told him what it was, and 
 received the last absolution. He now rose, took off his doublet, 
 knelt down again, and commenced the hundredth and fifteenth psalm, 
 which he recited by heart from beginning to end with great fervoiu- 
 mixed with a holy pleasure. ' I have,' said he, ' too great a passion 
 for death, and I am afraid that there is much harm in that. Father.' 
 said he, smiling and turning towards the priest, ' I am too well 
 
 G 2
 
 P4 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 pleased : is there no harm in it ? for I do not wish that there should 
 be any.' 
 
 " 'lliis was all accompanied with such joy and lively manifesta- 
 tions, that those who were furthest from liim thought that he was 
 ani^^ry, and declaiming against those who were the cause of his deatli. 
 
 " After the psalm, remaining still on his knees, he looked towards 
 his right, and seeing a man whom he had embraced in the palace 
 because he had met him with a la^^•J■er of his acquaintance, he made a 
 bow, and said in a lively tone, ' Sii', I am your very humble servant.' 
 
 •' He then rose ; and the executioner coming forward to cut his 
 hair, the priest took the scissors from out of his hands and gave them 
 to his companion ; M. de Thou, perceiving it, took them from the 
 priest, saying, ' AVhat ! Do you imagine that I fear him. Father? Did 
 you not see me embrace him ? I Jiave embraced tliis man, and have 
 embraced him t^vice. There, my friend, do your duty, and cut my 
 hair.' The man began ; but as he was excessively awkward, the 
 priest took the scissors from him, and made his companion do it. 
 AVhilst the operation was being performed. De Thou looked on those 
 who were nearest with a firm and smiling counteiuiTice, and every 
 now and then he raised his eyes lovingly towards heaven, and then 
 rising, he pronounced this beautiful sentence from Saint Paul : — 
 
 " Non contemplantibus nobis qure ^-identur, scd quae non ^ndcntur : quœ 
 eniin Nadentur, temporalia, quae autcm non vidcntur, aetema. 
 
 "Tlis hair being cut, he again knelt down upon the block and made 
 an ofiering of liimself to God, in such words and with such feeling that 
 it would be difficult to express them. He asked for an Arc Marin 
 and a Pater Xoster, to be said in words whidi pierced the heart ; after 
 kissing the crucifix, he asked for the medals, in order to gain indul- 
 gence, and said, 'Father, will they not bind me?' And as the 
 ])ricst told him that it rested with liim, he said, ' Yes, father, I must 
 be bound.' And looking at those wlio were nearest, he said, ' Gen- 
 tlemen, I own tliat for myself I am a coward, and that I fear to die. 
 AVhen I think of death, I tremble, I am covered witli persj)iration, 
 and my hair stands on end; and should you see any finniuss in me, 
 attribute it to our J.f)rd, who jurforms a miracle in order to save me; 
 for to die in the state I am in, it recpiires a deal of resolution ; I have 
 not any myself, but (Jod gives me some, and strengtlieiis me ex- 
 ceedingly.' 
 
 " He then put his hands in liis jjockets in search of liis liandker- 
 cliief, in order lo bind himself; and having torn it in lialf, he tied the 
 ends fogellier, and asked for a handkerchief from those below. He 
 imniidiaf( Iv had two or three thrown to liim, took one, and with
 
 CIXQ-MATÎS AM» Dl) THOU. 83 
 
 gr( at civility told those who had tlirown them that he would i)ray 
 to God for thorn in heaven, it not being in liis power to grant them 
 that ser\-ice in this world. The executioner then came to hind his 
 eyes with the handkerchief; but as he did it very badly, letting the 
 corners of the handkerchief fall over liis mouth, iie undid it, and tied 
 it himself. 
 
 " He afterwards j^laccd liis neck upon the block, which the con- 
 fessor's companion had wiped with his handkerchief, it having been 
 covered with blood, and asked him whether he was well placed. He 
 told him that he must advance liis head a little more, which ho did. 
 The executioner perceiving that the strings of his shirt were not un- 
 tied, advanced to undo them ; I)e Thou feeling his hands, said, ' AMiat 
 is the matter ? Must I take off my shirt ? ' and he commenced taking 
 it off. They told him that it was not necessary to do so — that all 
 they wanted was to undo the strings. 
 
 " Having placed his head upon the block, he pronounced his last 
 words, which were — ^ Maria, mater f/ratics, mater miser icor dice, tu 
 nos ah liosti jJrotcije, et liorâ mortis suscipc ;' then, '/« munus tuas, 
 Domine.' His arms then began to tremble as he awaited the blow, 
 which was given quite at the top of the neck, and too near the head ; 
 and the neck being cut only half through, the body fell on its back 
 to the left of the block, with the face upwards, the legs and feet 
 being convulsed as the hands were raised feebly towards heaven. 
 
 " The executioner tried to tm-n the body over, in order to complete 
 his work as he had commenced it ; but, frightened by the cries directed 
 against him, he struck three or four blows on the thi'oat, and thus 
 cut off the head, which remained on the scaffold. 
 
 " The executioner having stripped him, carried his body, covered 
 with a cloth, into the coach which had brought them there ; he then 
 placed ]M. de Cinq-Mars' beside it and the two heads, the eyes of 
 which were open, and this was particularly the case with the head of 
 M. de Thou, which appeared to be alive. They were then carried to the 
 Feuillants, where M. de Cinq-Mars was buried before the principal 
 altar. M. de Thou was embalmed, and placed in a leaden coffin, to 
 be removed to his own place of interment. 
 
 " Such was the end of these two persons, who certainly ought to have 
 left to posterity something besides their death to be remembered by. 
 
 " I leave each man to come to whatever oi)inion he may please 
 thereupon, and content myself with saying that it affords us a great 
 example of the inconstancy of fortune." 
 
 I do not know where anything can be found, whatever 
 imagination one may have, to equal tlie above recital, of which truth 
 forms the sole merit. Imagination is a goddess, but truth is a saint.
 
 ^.♦>r^V 
 
 :^^ilj* 
 
 CHAlTKi: IX. 
 
 MODERN LYONS. 
 
 '■^"^^it-r' 
 
 N order to form nnv- 
 thiiii; like a favourable 
 opinion of Lyons, it is 
 necessary to arrive there 
 by the Saone. The dull, 
 dirty, and monotonous 
 appearance which it i)re- 
 sents, when seen from 
 other approaches, as- 
 sumes then a little gran- 
 deur, and a jrreat deal of 
 l)icturis(jueness. Firsfc 
 we meet with the island 
 of Harbe, which api)ear8 
 to come towardrt the tra- 
 veller, in order to do him 
 the honours of the town. 
 It you wish to stop there, 
 there are some ancient 
 reniains to be seen — a
 
 MOUEKN LYONS. 87 
 
 well, said to have been bored in the time of Charlemagne ; and the 
 ruins of a church of the twelfth century. Going further on, we pass 
 by the foot of tlie rock of Pierre Seise, which Agrij^pa cut through 
 when he made his four military roads, one of which, coming from the 
 direction of Vivarais and the Cévennes, led towards the Pyrenees; 
 while the second went towards the lihine, the third towards the sea 
 at Brittany, and the fourth towards Gallia Narbonensis. A fortified 
 castle, which was formerly used as a state prison, rose formerly trom 
 the summit of the rock, and we have seen that it was from its dun- 
 geons that M. M. do Thou and Cinq-Mars were brought to make 
 theii- death pilgrimage to the Place des Terreaux. 
 
 At three hundi'ed steps from Pierre Seise lies another rock, sur- 
 mounted, not by a state prison, but by a man without a head, and 
 holding a purse in his hand. This statue is that of a brave German, 
 who consecrated a part of his income to marrying the young girls of 
 his district. I am ignorant as to whether the gratitude of the wives, 
 or the devotion of the maidens, which erected this monument to him ; 
 but one thing is certain, that the anger of a husband placed it in the 
 deplorable state in which it has been for more than ten years. 
 
 In passing the rock which bears the headless man, we perceive 
 Lyons in all its extent. Continuing to follow the course of the river, 
 we pass before the Church of St. John, which is, I think, the only 
 building to be remarked, until we arrive at the bridge of La Mula- 
 ti. re, which marks tlie jmiction of the Khone and Saone. At the 
 cxti-emity of this bridge, the railway to St. Etienne begins. The 
 first obstacle which had to be overcome in order to establish it, was 
 a rock, which it was necessary to bore through to the extent of 
 nearly two hundred paces, and which forms a tunnel, in which it is 
 dangerous to find oneself, as the following inscription, which the 
 paternal solicitude of the ^Maj-or of Lyons had placed on one of the 
 bides, sufficiently proves : — 
 
 " T/ie ptcltlic is cauiioiiid vol to ualk under this arch, under pain of heing 
 crushed." 
 
 This notice, concise as it looks at first sight, was not, however, it 
 appears, qidte sufficient ; for it was found necessary to put up another 
 prohibition of a more severe nature, which nnis as follows, and forms 
 an excellent pendant to the first : — 
 
 " The public is cautioned not to walk under this arch, under paiti of being 
 fitted." 
 
 If, after forming a general o])inion of the inhabitants — thanks to 
 the above inscriptions — the traveller should dcsii-e to form a time one 
 of the town, he will walk along the Chemin des Etroits, where Kous-
 
 88 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 scau passed so delightful a uight, and Mouton Duvernet so terrible 
 a day, and will ascend to the Chiu'ch of Notre-Dame de Fourrière, a 
 %'irgin of great renown, and as full of niiiacles as a Roman madonna. 
 Looking out from there, he will see, close to him, a mass of houses, 
 which are rendered more dingy and dirty by the silvery reflection 
 of the river and rivulet which surround tlieni ; beyond thcse,^reen 
 plains and landscapes, here and there slightly indented by a few 
 mountains; and further still, the immense chain of the Alps, the 
 snowy peaks of which become lost in the clouds. 
 
 At a few steps from the duuch is tlie house of the Abbé Caille, 
 from the ten-ace of wliich Pius VII., during his forced journey to 
 France, gave his blessing to the townspeople kneeling at his feet. 
 Besides the religious incident which this terrace calls to mind, a view 
 of Lyons, in its greatest extent, is commanded from its balustrade. 
 
 Although this town was, as we have akeady said, the birth-place 
 of Philibert Dclonne, Coustou, Coysevox, Louise Labbc, Dugast 
 Montbd, and Ballanche; although it possesses an academy — a daughter 
 (as Voltaiix' said) who has been so well brouglit up, that .she never 
 does anything which can get herself talked about ; althougli it re- 
 joices in a school of jjainting wliich has given us Dubost and lîonnc- 
 fond, — its spii'it is entirely mercantile. It is tlie place where fourteen 
 high roads and two i-ivcrs meet, bringing with them orders, and taking 
 away goods. The divinity of the town is Trade ; not the trade of sea- 
 ports, redeemed by the dangcra of navigating some distant ocean, 
 where the tradesman is captain, and liis workmen sailors ; not the 
 poetic trade of Tjre, Venice, and Marseille, round whidi the sun of 
 the cast throws a halo, the stai's of the south form a crown, the fogs 
 of the west a veil, and the ice of the north a girdle ; but the mean, 
 inactive trade, which scats itself behind a counter, or leans upon a 
 loom — which enervates by the want of air, and brutalizes from the 
 absence of sky — which takes sixteen hours of work from the twenty- 
 four, and in retiu'n gives only half the amount of bread rccpiircd by 
 the cravings of Iiunger. Yes, Lyons is actually a lively and animated 
 town, but it is tiie liveliness and animation of a nuuhine ; and the tic- 
 tac of its frame is the only pulsation wliicli its heart is acquainted 
 with. 
 
 And wlien the beatings of its heart cease fniiu want of work, the 
 town is like a paralj'zed body, to which no activity can be restored, 
 excejit by the iiuistt of a ministeiial measure, or tlic galvanism of a 
 ffovernnient Huj)j)ly. 'J'hirly thonsimd (Vnnics sto]), nearly sixty thou- 
 sand jH'rHons are « i'houf bread ; and luni;,'er, thr niKtlier of insinrcc- 
 tion, is soon howling through the tori nous streets of the second city 
 in France.
 
 MODERN LYONS. 89 
 
 When vre passed through Lyons, it was just recovering from one 
 of" these mortal crises : its streets were still disfigured, its houses 
 broken down, its pavements bloody ; and tlds was the second tune in 
 three years that this struggle had occurred ; and we shall be awakened 
 to it again some day by the sound of the tocsin. Unhappily, commer- 
 cial revolts are very different from political insurrections. In politics, 
 men grow older, their minds get calmer, and intei'csts become amal- 
 gamated ; in commercial matters, the wants are always the same, 
 and are renewed each day ; the question with them is not the pro- 
 bable success of some social Utopia, but the means of satisfying phy- 
 sical wants. A man can wait for a new law, but he dies for ^\ant 
 of a crust of bread. 
 
 To crown the misfortune, Lyons, the manufacturers of which have 
 hitherto gained the day, both as regards superiority of designs, 
 and softness of material, over England, Belgium, Saxony, Moravia, 
 Bohemia, Prussia, and Austria ; Lyons, of which the velvets equal 
 those of Milan, and the r/ros de Naples those of Italy generally, 
 has just witnessed the establishment of a terrible competition, which 
 it was difficult to foresee, and will be impossible to ob\ iate. This 
 laborious city, which produces manufactures annually to the value of 
 two hundred million francs, used to find a market in America for 
 goods to the amount of fifty million francs ; and America threatens 
 to supply herself, henceforth, from another quarter. For the last 
 three or four years, they have bought nothing but patterns, and these 
 patterns they send to China, where the warmth of the climate allows 
 the silkworm to form its cocoon in the mulberry tree itself, and where 
 the few wants of the inhabitants can be satisfied for an entire year 
 with wages which would scarcely suffice in France for three months. 
 The result is, that the Chinese people, without taste, variety, or 
 invention, but possessing mechanical and imitative talents, arrive, 
 both in fabric and in design, at the same degree of excellence as the 
 workmen of Lyons ; and that, as the original material and the -work- 
 manship have been obtained at the vciy loAvost price, a saving of 
 nearly one-thii-d is effected by the American speculator who purchases 
 at Canton. 
 
 Lyons presents the aspect of an immense manufactory, which 
 absorbs in its own profit all the faculties of its childien. If one of 
 them have a head which appears oi'ganized for mechanics, he dreajus 
 of the reputation of the great, and ajjplies aU his imagination to the 
 discovery of some new embroidery frame : if another be born a 
 painter, instead of being allowed to emulate the reputation of Kaphaei 
 or Rubens, his pencil is coTifined within the limits of fancy-work • he 
 must reproduce nothing fi'om nature, except flowers of graceful forms
 
 90 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 and biilliani hues ; Ids compositions ai-e only applauded when they 
 exhibit bouquets or garlands in some novel manner; and by this art, 
 or rather trade, he can gain ten thousand fi'ancs a year, that is to 
 say, more than Ingres and Delacroix have gained duiing any one 
 of the ten years of their artist life, and yet these men are the two 
 greatest geniuses of modern painting ! 
 
 It can be understood that the unfortunate wretches, whose tastes 
 urge them towards jjoetry, history, or the drama, must require a 
 superhuman valour to contend, not merely with the indili'ennce, but 
 even the contempt which is exhibited for their writings. The aris- 
 tocracy of Lyons, composed as it is of commercial men, who have 
 risen through their success in trade, is equally regardless, with the 
 tradespeople, of every effort made by the human mind for any ])m'- 
 pose but that of the improvement of weaving or embroidery. This 
 is so much the case, that two libraries are sufficient for the supply of 
 the second city in France, while one theatre is more than enough 
 to satisfy its ciu-iosity. 
 
 In the midst of tliis population, pre-occiipied as it is entirely by ma- 
 terial matters, I was nevertheless aware that I should meet one of the 
 most poetical natures of our time — Madame Marceline Valmore, whom 
 I had long known by her works, and for a year or two personally, and 
 who wa.s kept at Lyons by her duties as a mother and a wife. The 
 unfortunate prophetess in exile, who in Paris would have been the 
 honour of our drawing-rooms, was here almost as unknown as if she 
 had been living in some village in the Landes, or lîrittany ; and she 
 kept her incntjuito with the greatest care, fearing that tlie least mani- 
 festation of her fine talent would frighten away the little circle of 
 friends among whom she passed lur days. She receixed me as 
 a brotlier in the same faith, a faith unknown in Lyons, and to 
 which she only dared address her sublime prayers in solitude and 
 concealment. After some troulile, I prevailed ujion lier to ojien the 
 drawer of a little writing-desk, with a secret spring, in which lay 
 concealed from nil eye.s the most beautiful flowers reared in tlic 
 shade ; one of the fresliest and softest of these slie allowed me to 
 take. 
 
 What a hunii!iati(m for the city of Lyons, if it could have known 
 tliat, witliin sraind of its looms, smji verses had been produced! 
 Fortunately, it would linve been able to console itself by the relleetion 
 tJiat .Madame Valmore was not connected with trade.
 
 VIKW or VIENNL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 VIENNE THE BEAUTIFUL— VIENNE THE IIOLY- 
 l'ATRIOTIC. 
 
 -VIENNE THE 
 
 If, as we have said, Lyons be the first uoint at which, coming from 
 Paris through the Bourbonnais, we meet with traces of the Koman 
 civilization, on leaving that town, the traveller, who is proceeding to 
 the south in the direction of the Ilhone, continues throughout to tread 
 the land which the mistress of the world called her cherished pro- 
 vince, her beloved daughter. Then it is only occasionally and rarely 
 that the buildings of the middle ages are found in greater numbers 
 and perfection than those of antiquity. Nearly all the remains we 
 meet with are two thousand years old, and the ruins of that distant 
 period are so gigantic, that, fallen as they are, they smother beneath 
 their shade everytliing which has grown up around them ; for of all 
 the civilizations which have successively invaded the world, none 
 other has filled the ground so deeply with its roots of stone, expanded 
 so widely beneath the sun, nor risen so loftily towards the heavens. 
 
 As we advance towards the south, we begin to foi-m some idea of 
 the grandeur of that nation which built towns for its armies to halt 
 in, turned rivers aside to form a cascade, and left small hills when 
 it erected its monuments. From time to time, however, some grand
 
 92 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Gothic recollection, or Gothic building, is met ■with, such as Louis IX. 
 embarking near the ramparts of Aigucs Mortes, the Count of Toulouse 
 making the atnoulc honoruhle on the steps of the basilisk of St. Gilles, 
 or the Baron des Adrets precipitating the Catholics from the heights 
 of Morn IS. IJut all these, we must confess, disappear before the 
 ti'iuniphal arch of Orange, the passage of Ahenobarbus before Aries, 
 and the memory of Constantinc. In tine, the south of France is so 
 beautiful and so Koman, that lîome appears less beautiful and less 
 great to a j)crson vho has visited it. 
 
 Lyons had first introduced us to antiquity ; for, in default of any- 
 external proofs, we had seen in its museum tiie bronze table on which 
 was engraved the speech pronounced by Claudius (then only censor), 
 in order to obtain for his native town the title of Koman Colony ; and 
 four mosaics, the first of which represented a chariot race, the second 
 Orjjheus playing the IjTc, and the two others a contest between 
 Cupid and Pan. ^'iénnc was to show us more remains still standing; 
 and finally. Orange, Ximes, and Aries, were to initiate us into their 
 mysteries. AVc resolved, then, to stop a day or two at Vienne ; and, 
 landing opposite the hotel called the Table lionde, wc left our steamer 
 to continue its course towards Marseilk'. 
 
 AMiether Vienne Avas built, as the Dominican Lavinius says, 
 by AUobrox, who ruled the Celts at the time when Ascaladius 
 ruled the Assyrians, and whether, consequently, it bo contem- 
 porary with Babylon and Thebes — whether it was founded, as 
 Jean Marquis maintains, by an exile from Africa who entered Gaul 
 at the period when Amasias was reigning in Jertisalem, and con- 
 sequently was anterior to Rome by one hundred and eight years — 
 whetiier it is of Autochthon foundation, or whether it owes its 
 birth to the migration of a colony — it is easy to see, at tiie first 
 glance, that Vienne is built on a sjiot marked out by nature for 
 the residence of man. Sheltered by live monntains, which form a 
 half-ciiele round it, and protect it from the wind of the north and 
 the sun of the soutli; divided from east to west by the little river 
 Gère, which turns several mills; bounded fiom north to south by 
 tlie lUione, which is liere a wide and magnificent river, and serves to 
 caiTV its j>roducti()nH to the sea. Vienne was the cajjital of the .\llo- 
 bro;,'eH at the period when Hannibal came down from the Pyrenees, 
 passed the PJione, and crossed the .\Ips. Of 1 lu- early and mysterious 
 civiii/alion, wiiich was contemporary with the comiueror of Thrasy- 
 nune, and (he confiuered of I.ama, iiothing remains but one of the 
 Btones so common in Brittany, and so rare in the south. This 
 jttitfnin Vu'H on the conlincH of Vaul.x in \'eley, and Decène in the 
 aiiitoii iif Ml \ lieux ; nil the ollicrs were destrovtd at tlu' time of t lie
 
 VIENNE THE BEAUTIFUL. 93 
 
 conquest of the Romans, or, at least, during the sojom-n they made in 
 this capital of Allobrogia. 
 
 It is from this time only, that is to say, from al)out sixty years 
 before Christ, that Ave can, as it were, rebuild the town, and form an 
 exact idea of what it must have been. The Roman boundary is 
 still easily found, for the ramparts are standing in several places, and 
 ■where they have fallen, we can discover and follow the foundations. 
 The stones missing from the ramparts were employed in building the 
 churches, hospital, and college. AVithin the walls were an imperial 
 palace, a senate house, a pantheon, atem^ile to Mars, a temple to Victory, 
 a theatre, amphitheatre, and forum ; and, in order to retain its conquest, 
 Rome, like a jealous mistress, after enclosing it in an arena of stones, 
 built a fortress on the top of each of the mountains which command 
 Vienne. 
 
 But the space within the ramparts soon became too confined for 
 the population, wliich spread on both sides : houses, temples, and 
 palaces rose, to the south, over the ground which is now the plain 
 of L'Aiguille; and to the north, over the site of the modern St. 
 Colombe, and St. Romaine ; a bridge extended across the Rhone, 
 uniting the subm-b to the town ; the hills were soon covered -with 
 rich %-illas, which gave it the appearance of a vast amphitheatre ; 
 miracles of architecture abounded on eveiy side ; rich and pkashig 
 meadows were to be seen varying the banks of the Rhone. It was 
 then Vienne was called Vienne the Beautiful — that Ctesar gave the 
 motlier eagle for its arms, and Augustus made it the capital of the 
 Roman empire in Gaul. 
 
 Of this second civilization, there remains standing part of the 
 ramparts, an ancient temple, the pyramid of Septimus Sevcrus, which 
 is in perfect preservation, and the tower of Plautus, which is falling to 
 pieces by the Rhone. 
 
 Towards the end of the fourth centuiy, a man entered this hea- 
 then city, alone and unarmed, but bearing the word of the Gosjiel, 
 and more powerful with this than an emperor would have been with 
 an ai-my. The Pantheon, which put the north of the town under 
 the protection of all the gods, appeared to crumble away, as if an 
 earthquake had shaken its foundations, and on the place where it had 
 stood rose a basilisk, dedicated to St. Stephen, the tirst martyr of the 
 Chui'ch. From this time Vienne assumed a new appearance, for a 
 new era had arrived ; Christian civilization, of wliich St. Louis was 
 the tA-jJC, was striking its first roots into the crevices of the Pagan 
 monuments. Then the tii'st kings of Burgundy built their castle 
 on the site of the imperial palace ; a square tower ai'ose in the forum ; 
 the chm-ch of St. Geoi-ge, and the cathedi'al of St. Mam-ice, raised
 
 91 THE SOUTH OF FKANCE. 
 
 tht'ir heads from the ground ; the town descended from the mountains 
 and approached the Khone. To the golden eagle with its spreading 
 wings, succeeded a shield bearing an elm supporting a golden chalice, 
 and surmounted by the Host in silver, as a memorial of the Burgun- 
 dian kings having administered justice under a tree of this sort, and 
 in commemoration of the Coimcil of 1311, by which the feast of the 
 Holy Sacrament was instituted. Vienne the Beautiful, now became 
 Vienne the Holy. 
 
 The privileged toAvn preseiTcd this name till the end of the last 
 century : but, disfiguiTd by the Baron des Adi'ets, who mutilated the 
 cathedral ; dismantled by Cardinal Kichelieu, who blew up the castle of 
 Labatie ; injured by the dragoons of Louis XIV., forgotten by Louis XV., 
 and by Louis XVL, Vienne, which had hitherto cherished the recol- 
 lection of its prosperity with ardour, adopted the popiilar movement. 
 In opposition to Lyons, w liich had welcomed the royalists, Vienne 
 threw itself into the anns of the republicans : confounding liberty 
 with royalty, it forsook its sacred coat-of-arms, placed a red cap on 
 its pyramid, and Vienne the Holy disappeared to make room for 
 Vienne the Patriotic. 
 
 In the present day the metropolis of the AUobroges, the queen 
 of the Roman cmpii-e in Gaul, the capital of two kingdoms of 
 Burgundy, is but a second-rate town, with badly-built houses, 
 and dirty, crooked streets. Me tried for a lo<)g time to find out 
 from what spot it presented the most picturesque appearance. While 
 ascending the mountain, on the top of wliich are the ruins of the 
 old castle of Labatie, we had a view through a hole in the wall of 
 a large part of the town on each side of the Gere, which winds in a 
 green and foaming torrent between the houses, above the roofs of 
 which St. Maurice's Cathedral looms heavily, like Leviathan, above 
 the waves of the sea. Beyond this an iron bridge, so light that it 
 looks like a cord, stretches from one side of the river to the other, and 
 unites Vienne and St. Colombe — the mother and lur child, as if 
 with a riband ; while, above it, a broken pillar of the old Unman liridgo 
 raises its head from tlu' water, and appears to look with astonislinient 
 at its slight ar.d elegant Hiiccessor, and at the jioitited jjyraniid, which 
 forms the southern extremity of the town, and wliich some think 
 marks the centre of the ancient city, and others the liurial place of 
 Septimtis Severus. The time was well chosen for our view. In 
 front, the town was covered with clouds of dark and light smoke; 
 behind, sparkled the Ilhone, as if its waves were liquid silver; and on 
 the liorizon, the summits of the mountains, gilded by the setting sun, 
 were lost in a wann yellow. At the first glance we saw thai from 
 no other spot could we obtain so complete a view, and, conseqiu-ntly
 
 VIENNE THE HOLY. 95 
 
 Jadin and myself set to work directly — he to make a di-awing, and 1 
 tx) obtain from Chorier Schneider, and Meruiet, the historical notes 
 just read. 
 
 On descending from our observatory, which the inhabitants of 
 Vienne call the Mountain of Solomon, from a corruption of the two 
 Latin words salutis mons, we turned towards the museum, which was 
 about to close. Luckily, we met the conservator there, M. Delonne, 
 ■who, with an obliging hospitality only to be met with in the pro- 
 \'inccs, permitted us to prolong our visit beyond the fixed time, and 
 even acted as our cicerone, doing himself the honoiu's of his splendid 
 collection of antiquities. Curious as were the memorials collected in 
 the old temple, which now serves as a museum, the first thing which 
 drew my attention was a modern portrait representing a young man 
 whose face was known to me. As, however, I could not recall his 
 name, I asked M. Delorme, who replied that it was Pichat. My 
 thoughts turned to seven or eight years back, and I recollected where 
 I had seen tliis face : it was on the evening of the perfomiance oi 
 Leonidas, which, OAving to the merit of the work, the talent of Talma, 
 and the excellent getting up, superintended by Taylor, had made 
 a tremendous hit. Then very young, and never hoping to reach 
 the goal which Pichat had just attained after eleven years' labour 
 and expectation, I had come as a novice to study his first work 
 — too highly esteemed then, too much forgotten now. Going out 
 after the fifth act, I saw, in the corridor, a young man, who was 
 smToundcd and carried off by his friends. He had a fine, handsome 
 head, evidently full of genius ; the fever, which afterwards destroyed 
 him. spai'kled in his eyes ; and his hair thi'own back showed a coun- 
 tenance radiant with joy. On seeing him pass thus full of smiles and 
 joy, how I envied the fate of that man ! What would I not have given 
 to be in his place ! For who could have thought, at that time, that this 
 man, so full of happiness that he must have felt like a god, had but a 
 few days to live ; and that, in a short time after him his work, to which 
 Talma had given such vigorous life, would descend into the tomb, 
 never again to leave it ? For who thinks now of Pichat, or of Leoindas 
 except the writer of these .ines, who, closing his eyes, sees them pass 
 before his memory like shadows in tlie night ? 
 
 These modern recollections, which belonged to a very different 
 chain of associations from those necessary for a visit to the museum 
 of Vienne, perhaps injm-cd the effect of tlie antiquities whicn were 
 under my eyes, several of which are, however, well worth a careful 
 examination. The museum owes its existence to an antiquary, whose 
 name we have already given once or twice. A\'hen twenty years of 
 age, a young painter left his family, set out from Heiingeu, in Thur-
 
 oc THE SOUTH OF FR.\NCE. 
 
 ingia, where he was born in 1732, and undertook a voyajje to Italy, to 
 improve himself by a study of the old mastex-s; passing through 
 Lyons, he came to Vienne, and, pausing before an ancient ruin, stopped 
 on his joui-ney to explore it. He went fi-om one to another, and fall- 
 ing in love with the old capital of AUobrogia, resolved on stopping a 
 month, and ultimately jjassed his whole life there, dying in 1813, 
 after having collected, during tlie fifty years he spent in the town, 
 the greater part of the valuables Avliich, by his will, he bequeatlied 
 to it. 
 
 The most remarkable of these, the complete list of wliich may be 
 found in the works of Chorier, is a group of two cliilcken disputing for 
 a dove, which is about twenty inches high, and which was fomid m an 
 excavation under the new nuirkct-place. The antiquiu-ies, who always 
 endeavom- to prove that the ancients did everything by allegories, pre- 
 tend to see in tliis exceedingly simple design some struggle of a good 
 genius with the genius of evil ; while others regard it as a little 
 drama, which does not ajjpear more probable. According to these 
 last, the two chikb-en were occupied in taking birds' nests, when one 
 of them was bitten by a viper in the ai'ni, Jiis young friend eagerly 
 sucks the womid, whilst a lizard brings him tlic herbal antidote. 
 The probability is, that the grouj) merely represents a sU'uggle be- 
 tween the childi-en for tlie possession of the bh'd ; the animals being 
 a mere caprice of the artist's. 
 
 The next subject that takes our attention is a greyhound, in 
 Parian marble, playing with its i)up, and \\ liicli was found about a 
 league from ^'ienne, near Marat. The execution of lliis grouji is 
 charming, but the circumstance of tlie hi'ad luiving been lost, and 
 liuving been afterwards found, and fixed badly upon the neck, at tu'st 
 sight much injuics the cHect. The little dog, wldch must ha\e been 
 detaelied by some violent blow, lias not been discovered. The marks 
 wliere it adhered are still visible on tlie body of the mother. Mr. 
 ])enon offered the town a thousand crowns for this jiiece of marble, 
 mutilated as it is; but the town refused to sell it. 
 
 Next comes the torso of a colossal female statue, in a sitting 
 attitude, the liunds of which are mutilated, and the head and thighs 
 wauling; from the beauty of execution, which may be examined in 
 detail, and from the elegance ami tastefulness of the drajiery, it is 
 easy to discover the- work of a (ire«k ma.slcr. M'hat renders this sup- 
 position still more jirobable, is llie fact that on the toj) of the neck a 
 hollow hiih been cut, doubtless with the intention of ])lacing on the 
 shoulders of this (jreik Cybde, or Ceres, the head of some Konian 
 empress. 
 
 Among the bricks, which are piled uji in a corner of the museum,
 
 VIENNE THE HOLY. 97 
 
 some are found stamped -vvitli tlie name of Vivioruin, others with that 
 of Glarianus. I had ah'cady found the stamp of this ancient workman 
 upon materials of the same sort, of which the batlis of Aix, in Savoy, 
 are built. The discovery of the dates of the moumnents of citlier 
 of these towns would tix the dates of the otlier. One of these bricks 
 is rendered more em-ious by a second signatiue : it is that of the dog 
 of one of the workmen, who had placed his paw upon the wet clay. 
 The brick had been placed in the furnace without tlie mark of the dog's 
 paw being effaced, and the signature has been religiously preserved. 
 
 Amidst these numerous fragments of antiquity is a bloody relic of 
 the middle ages : it is a square stone which contained the heart of 
 the dauphin, son of Francis I., given to the town of Vienne by 
 Henry II. This young prince died while taking an excursion on the 
 Rhone. He had been indisposed at Lyons, where he had been re- 
 siding at the Convent of St. Clair, and when he arrived at Tom-non, 
 engaged imprudently in a game of tennis, of which he was im- 
 moderately fond. Heated by this exercise, and forgetting his pre- 
 vious indisposition, he asked for a glass of cold water; Sebastian 
 of Montccuculli (who must not be confounded with Raymond of 
 MontecuculU, the conqueror of the Turks and the rival of Turenne) 
 presented liim with a ch-aught in a cup of red earthenware, and the 
 dauphin, having drunk witli avidity, was taken suddenly ill, and died 
 at the end of four days. Montccuculli was accus<;d of the nuu-der, w as 
 conducted to Lyons, examined, and put to tl;c torture; but not having 
 the strength to support it, he acknowledged all they required, and, in 
 consequence, was condemned to be dragged upon a hm-d.le to the 
 place of execution, and broken on the wheel. The sentence Avas exe- 
 cuted on the 7th of October, 153G; and the exasperated people seizing 
 the body from the hands of the executioner, tlirew it into the Rhone. 
 
 In 1547 the body of the young prince, which had remained at 
 Touraon, was carried to St. Dennis, by order of Henry 1 1. ; but liis 
 heart was left to the magistracy of Vienne, with a letter from th< 
 king, informing them, that in consideration of the good feeling t'. 
 town had manifested for his brother at the time of his death, he 
 had ordered his heart to be buried before the great altar of St. 
 Maurice ; it remained there till the year 1793, when Vienne, in the 
 heat of republicanism, renounced the gift it had so long retained. 
 The stone which enclosed the heart of the dauphin was dragged 
 fi'om its tomb, and tlic dust it contained scattered to the wind. The 
 stone was afterwards recovered and carried to the museum, and 
 a heart in mosaic indicates the place where the original reposed. 
 
 A\'e did not quit M. Dclorme till the night prevented us fi'om 
 distinguishing the mutilated fragments of another centmy. One of 
 
 il
 
 98 
 
 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 „^ i^ 
 
 TUB CATUBDIUL Or IT MACIll' 
 
 tlic Icndejipic's most natunil to llu- miml of" iiuiii is to compare the 
 tiiiiis in which he lives with those loiifj; past. I'erhaps ineniory has 
 hcen (,'iven to us to extend the Hniits of life, and to make our mind, 
 if not our hody, contemporaneous with the eras of our ancestors. 
 
 The ne.\t moniin;r we dedicated to visitin^j the Cathedral of St. 
 Maurice, which is the finest (iothic monument of the period when 
 N'iennt! was surnamed the Holy. It was commenced in 1052 hy the 
 ancient jirelafes of Vienne, who were so rich that when the com- 
 mandant of St. .\ntliony j,'iive lifly florins for the erection of a bridyc,
 
 VIENNE THE HOLY. SO 
 
 which was to replace the one which led from Vienne to St. Colombe, 
 and wliich had fallen into the Rhone, the commander of St. Antoine 
 gave fifteen florins, and the seigneur Montluel six, the precentor 
 J'ierre de Saluai gave one hundred, and Laureton Baretonis, dean of 
 the church, sixty. It was completed in 1Ô13, and the same year the 
 Baron des Adrets, who defaced it fifty years later, was born in the 
 Castle of La Frette. One of the first acts of this terrible apostle 
 of Protestantism was to rob the church of its ornaments, and to 
 break the statues of the saints in the porch. Twenty-fom* niches aie 
 still empty in consequence ; indeed, he nearly effected the ruin of the 
 edifice, as he had commenced sawing through the pillars, the fall of 
 which would have involved the ruin of the whole cliurch; and to 
 prcA'cnt the workers of destruction from being crushed by the roof, 
 the massive columns Avcrc to be supported by wooden props, which 
 were afterwards to be set on fire. The pLon of the Baron des 
 Adrets was suggested by an ancient tradition, for by this ingenious 
 method the Bishop Marcel overthrew the temple of Jupiter, which all 
 the efforts and zeal of the workmen had not been able to shake. 
 
 Although defaced by the attacks of the enemy, the Chm-ch of St. 
 Maiu'ice, even in its present state, is one of the best preserved in 
 France. It is a sjjlendid edifice, the front of which belongs to the 
 florid style of architecture ; the ceilings, wliich were only completed 
 in the sixteenth century, are painted azm-e, and starred with gold. 
 Its shape is that of a basilisk, terminated by three (thsidcs. 
 
 The pavement in front, which is raised on a level with the en- 
 trance to the church, witnessed in 1563 a combat between two gen- 
 tlemen, one a Florentine the other a iNIilancse, in which both v.xtc 
 mortally wounded. The jNIilanese died first, in consequence of which 
 he was considered as conquered. In spite of my researches on this 
 subject, I have not been able to discover the cause of this duel, which 
 the Duke of Nemoui's authorized, and was present at. 
 
 The ancient bridge, of tlie fall of which we have spoken, had 
 lasted, say the registers of the time, 1582 years, for it had been built 
 175 B.c., and was bm-ied in the Rhone on the 11th of February, 1407. 
 It was, if we can believe Symphoricn Champier, the oldest bridge iu 
 Gaul, and it was built by order of Tiberius Gracchus, who stopped 
 some time at Vienne, as he was going to Spain, in the year of the 
 world 45S8. Its fall, which happened between nine and ten in the 
 morning, was, as Choricr tells us, preceded and accompanied by pro- 
 digies. During the night, before the day on which it was destroyed, 
 horses were heard galloping across it and neighing ; the whole town 
 was alarmed at midnight by dismal groans, voices, and murmurings ; 
 a lull of wonderful size, after taking several tiu"ns on the Place de St. 
 
 U2
 
 100 
 
 THE SOl'TH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Colombe, suddenly disappeared at the first stroke of a bell, •which rung 
 of itself; and, finally, the arch which fell fii-st, being that on which a 
 chapel was built, tlie stone cross which surmounted this chapel fell 
 also, but remained on the surface of the water, wliich refused to swal- 
 low it up, but earned it floating towards the sea, as if it had been of 
 wood. A collection was, as we have said, made to rebuild it, and 
 PieiTe Berger, Jacques Iscmbard, Guillaume de Chamsaux, and Jean 
 de Bourbon, were named masters and rectors, for building the bridge 
 of the Rhone. 
 
 The trade of Vienne is tlie same as that of Louviers and Elbeuf, it 
 supplies all the south with cloth, as those two towns supply all the 
 north ; but its productions arc neither so fine nor so valuable, for the
 
 VIENNE TOE PATRIOTIC. ]01 
 
 best cloth Vienne makes is not worth more than fifteen or eighteen 
 francs an ell. All the manufactories and workshops arc on the two 
 banks of the Gère, the stream of which turns all the wheels, and is of 
 eight-horse power. 
 
 As there was nothing more for us to see at Vienne, for wo had ex- 
 amined everything from the lloman ramparts down to the modern 
 ruins (except the cenotaph of Septimus Scverus, which Avas on the 
 road we were about to take), we set out again, and at the extremity 
 of the town saw, at about fifty paces to the right, the pyramid which 
 is called, without any plausible reason, by the name we have just 
 mentioned. 
 
 . No inscription, either cut or in relief, no indents to show that 
 bronze letters have ever been fostcncd on to it, comes to the aid of the 
 archaeologist who may be anxious to determine the precise date and 
 destination of this monument. It is a foui'-sidcd pyramid with fom* 
 arched passages, each of which is flanked by two winding pillars, the 
 capitals of wliich are unfinished. The ceiling of the vault is formed 
 by five flat stones of great size, they are joined without cement, lOcc all 
 the rest of the edifice, which was probably supported by cramp-ii-ons ; 
 at all events, the holes made in the monmnent arc attributed to per- 
 sons who wished to steal this material ; it is, however, quite as natural 
 to think that the spoilers, supposing it contained articles of value, 
 such as were sometimes found in some of the ancient tombs, searched 
 it in that hope. 
 
 It was M. Schneider who gave this pyramid the name it has 
 since retained : till then it had been looked upon as a monument to 
 the glory of Augustus, or a sort of boundary mark intended to point 
 out the centre of the to■s\^l. Though the style of architecture adopted 
 in its construction is less elegant than that of the great Roman age, 
 its resemblance to those built during the decay of the art under Sep- 
 timus Severus, and its unfinished capitals, determined M. Schneider 
 to assign that date ; for we know that, although ^laximius, his suc- 
 cessor, began by approA^ing of the honours paid to the memoiy of 
 Septimus Sevenis, it was not long before he displayed contrary senti- 
 ments. The influence of these sentiments may have made itself felt 
 even in Gaul ; and the cenotaph, consequently, have remained un- 
 finished.
 
 TICBODOUC ILTÀU AT TKIH. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ST. PEUAY. 
 
 We left our post chaise at Lyons, having been forewarned that in the 
 cross roads of the south, it would bo impossible to make use of it 
 without breaking it, so that tlie troubles of our journey began nt 
 Vienne, where we eoi^ld hire notliing but a broken-down sort of wag- 
 gon, wliieh had onee been a diligence. Mo were obliged to harness 
 three horses to this frightful machine (which I now regret not having 
 made a dra'wing of, to give my readers an idea of the sort of convey- 
 ance in use twelve miles from the second capital of France), and, 
 thanks to the strength of our team, succeeded in traversing in twelve 
 I'.ours the fifteen leagues which separate Vienne from Tain. We were 
 half dead with fatigue before we got there, but we got thereat last. 
 We ])aid immediately for the carriage which we had liired to take us 
 as iar as Valence, ordering our driver to go on before us the next 
 day, with our luggage, and jjroniising tliat we would manage so as 
 not to rejoin him before he had arrived tlu-re. 
 
 The next day I rose first, and .siiiiied fortli in quest of information. 
 On returning to the liotel, I led .ladin to the window, and requested 
 liim to salute the hill whicli overlooked the town. Jadin having 
 done HO with confidence, I told him it wa» that of the Hermitage, 
 and he immediately, of his own accord, bowed to it a second time. 
 Like almost all im])ortant discoveries, that of the wonderful quality of 
 the ground, which now produces one of the best wines in I'rance, was 
 owing to an accident. \t the eomnuncenunt of the seventeenth cen-
 
 ST. PERAY. 103 
 
 tury, a poor hermit fixed his residence between the ruins of the two 
 tenqjles and the tower, wliich, according- to Strabo, Fabius caused to be 
 built near the battle-field, where he conquered the king of the Averni. 
 The great reputation of the holy man drew numbers after him; but as 
 the ascent is rather steep, and the pilgrims an-ivcd covered with perspir- 
 ation, the good hermit, who had nothing to give them but spring water, 
 and who feared they might encounter the fate of the dauphin at 'I om-- 
 non, planted some wine stalks, which the following year supplied a 
 ■wine which connoisseurs soon learnt to appreciate. The news spread, 
 and the number of the pilgiims augmented to such a degree, that the 
 hermit was obliged to plant the whole of the mountain. In the pre- 
 sent day, the successors of the anchorite do not requii'e their wine to 
 be drank upon the spot, but cu'culate it with great success both at 
 home and abroad. To cultivate the ground, it was, of course, neces- 
 sary to plough it ; and this produced the disinterment of a very 
 curious taurobolic altar. Some Englishmen were the first who per- 
 ceived the value of this monument ; and, by giving a large order for 
 wine, they got the proprietor to tlu-ow it into the bargain. The men 
 who were to carry it to the boat had akeady commenced their 
 labours, when the municipal officers claimed the stone as public pro- 
 perty. The Englishmen were obliged to be contented with the wine, 
 to the exportation of which the town-council made no objection ; and 
 the altar was enclosed in a recess in the wall above the river, between 
 the Ilhone and the road, where, surmounted by a cross, it long ap- 
 peared as a symbol of the triumph of Christianity over Paganism. 
 At last, after having been transported from its original position to 
 the town hall, it was moved thence to the market-place at Tain, 
 which, since that time, has taken the name of Place du Taurobolc. 
 
 We should not hive stopped so long at this stone, the form and 
 intention of wliich are the same as those of similar monuments, if the 
 whole of the fu-st, and the half of the second line of the inscription 
 upon it had not been effaced. This circumstance, which at first 
 sight appears of no archaeological importance, has, however, seiwed 
 to determine the date of the erection of tliis altar, which exercised 
 for half a century the pens of all the leai'ned men of the Drome. 
 The Abbé Chalieu was the first to find out the true meaning of 
 the enigma : this taurobole, which had been built to the memory of 
 the Emperor Comniodus, surnamed the Pious, says Lempricre, for 
 having raised his mother's lover to the consulate, was included in 
 the proscription, wluch affected all public monuments on which the 
 name of this fiither of the country ^\as inscribed. The day following 
 the night during which Comniodus was poisoned, and the morning of 
 the day when, to put an end to liim, he was strangled, l*ublius Ilel-
 
 104 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 vius Pcrtinax, his successor, assembled the senate, and declared that 
 Commodus had been the enemy of the country, and the enemy of 
 the gods : Ilostia ne/iulils, Jios'it' patrice, hostis (leorinii. To Avhich 
 the same men, who two years before had decreed him the title of 
 father of the country, replied, that Ivis body should bo drawn bj' 
 hooks, and cast into the Tiber : Curjnis ejus tit unco tniheretur, atquc 
 in Tiherùn niitteretur, seiiatus postuhtclt. Unforrunately for the ex- 
 ample, which would not have been a bad one to set, the new emperor 
 had already made his arranjjemonts upon that point, by prudently 
 ha^•ing the body of Commodus interred, fearing he miglit recover 
 from t!ie halter, as he had jjrcviously done from the poison. The 
 senate was in despair at not being able to give this proof of devotion 
 to Pertinax, wlien Cingius Scvcrus rose, and tiu-ning on the effigies 
 the penalty he would have inflicted on the corpse, demanded, as sen- 
 ator and pontiff (a two-fold capacity, in which he had enjoyed the 
 double advantage of decreeing to Commodus the titles of father of 
 liis country, and of divine emperor), that his statues should be abol- 
 ished, and his name efl'aced from the public and jnivate monuments : 
 Vciiseu . . . aholendas sliituus, nomciiquv ex omiiihus pn'ratis public- 
 isquc iiiuiiumentis crailemluni. Pertinax, who had opposed the ven- 
 geance they wished to wreak upon the corpse, saw no objection to 
 letting them injm-e the .statues ; and an amendment was even added 
 to the projected law of Cingius Scvcrus, which was to the effect that 
 the statues should be disj)laccd and the name erased, not only in 
 liome, but throughout the provinces. This decree passed the Alps, 
 and readied Tain, at the same time as the news of tlie death of their 
 god. Those who were kneeling before the altar, rose, mutilated tlie 
 inscription, and all was over. Tl»is is the reason of the erasmx* not 
 having gone beyond the second line; for they took no more jirecaution 
 to hide tluir change of religion, than was nuule use of by our vendors 
 of patent wares to hide their apostacy, after July. ISoO, wlien they con- 
 tented tliemselves witli effacing tlie word "royal" from tlicir juitcnts, 
 and continued to sell their tobaccos nnd their salts. France remem- 
 bers wlien she was a Uomun province. 
 
 The following is the numncr in wliieli the Abbe Chaliiu read the 
 iii.Hcription : — 
 
 " Mtttri dciira ningTin' Idom, i)ro salute iniiicriitoris Civsnris Marii Aurclii 
 I.ueii Conitniidi, Antoiiiui I'ii, (Idiinifxpic «liviuu-, coloniu^Copiic Clnudix- Au- 
 nuiitœ Lugduncn.ti.s, taurobolium fi'iil (iuintus Aipiius Antouinmis, pontifcx 
 ]icrp<'tuuH, ex vu'.icinatinnu I'uHonii Juliani Archi^nlli iiielinatuiii, xii. kalcn- 
 darum niaii cniiHuroniutum, viii. kalcndaruni iiuiii, Luciu KpRio ManiUo, 
 Mcio Puj)irio (Kliano {^JUBulibiu», iinifunto ..lilio, Mcio Panirio saccrdotc 
 tibicine Alljio Vtrino."
 
 ST. TERAY. lOD 
 
 The altar having been examined, commented on, and sketched, 
 we determined to ascend to the hermitage. As the anchorite was no 
 longer there to do the honom's of the mountain, we had our breakfasts 
 carried up, and after about an hour's ratlier difficult ascent, we 
 reached the top, Paul Orose, and Florus, being in our hands. The 
 view from this height is admirable : to the north extends the country 
 of the ancient Allobrogcs ; to the east is a chain of the Alps, from 
 which the Iser descends ; on the south the eye can trace the course 
 of the Rhone for from twelve to fifteen leagues, as it gradually dis- 
 appears, diminishing in tlie distance ; and on the west the horizon 
 is bounded by the mountains of Vivarais, Velai, and Auvergne. 
 The battle-field in which the Komans, under the command of Fabius, 
 met the Auverni, under lîituus, extends from the foot of the mountain 
 to the junction of the Iser and the Rhone. 
 
 "We have told how the Massalians summoned the Romans into 
 Gaul, and Caius Sextus founded a to^wn on the borders of the Cœnus. 
 The people who suffered most in this struggle, ^lassalia had made 
 no complaint of; but the Vocontii happening to be within the reach of 
 Fabius, he attacked them without a pretext, sold the inhabitants of 
 the towns by auction, and obliged their king, Teutomal, to take refuge 
 amongst the AUobroges. 
 
 Now among the kings whom Teutomal called brothers, was a 
 powerful warrior, whom Livy, Florus, and Paul Orose, call Bituus ; 
 Strabo, Bittos ; and Valerius ]Maximus, BetuUus. He was the richest 
 of the Gallic princes, his subjects were numerous and brave, he had 
 rich harvests in his plains, and mines of gold and silver in his moun- 
 tains. He seized the moment in which the new consul, Cn. Domi- 
 tius, reached the camp, to send an embassy, demanding fi'om him the 
 restoration of Teutomal to his lungdom. It was a strange, but at 
 the same time a magnificent and noble-looldng procession. The 
 chief commanded a troop of young horsemen, who were clothed in 
 purjjle, and covered with coral and gold ornamehts. Next him came 
 the court minstrel, with the emblems of his office in liis hand, singing 
 the glory of Bituus, the courage of the Auverni, and the exploits of 
 the ambassador ; beliiud him came the royal hounds, enonnous dogs 
 fiom Belgium and Brittany, each of whom wore round his neck a 
 collar of massive gold, encrusted with precious stones. The display 
 of so much wealth was a bad plan for obtaining peace from Domitius. 
 Instead of restorhig Teutomal to his throne, as the king of the 
 Auverni desired, ] )omitius demanded the sm-render of Teutomal, threat- 
 ening, if the fugitive were not given up, to seek him, if necessary, 
 in tlie mountains of his ally. The embassy returned immediately to 
 Bituus with this tlu'cat of war.
 
 105 THE SOrin OF FRANCE. 
 
 "War was a h-cat to the ancient Gauls, ^vllo attacked the sea with 
 their javelins, shot their darts against the lightninfj;. and, as we before 
 said, feared nothin": in the world except the fall of heaven upon their 
 heads. The tops of the nio\intains of Auvei'gne bla/ed as in the time 
 of their volcanoes ; and to the cry of war, all the tribes connnanded by 
 Bituus, son of Luern, and all those who were in alliance with him, 
 hastened to amis. Six months were employed in organizing these 
 masses , for six montlis the magnificent chieftain held a feast for liis 
 hundred thousand allies; and at the commencement of the spring, 
 some days after the anival of Quintus Fabius Maximus in the lioman 
 camp, Bituus set out from the place where Clermont and Auvergne 
 now are, at the head of nearly two huncbrd thousand men. 
 
 Meanwhile, the llomans, thinking that they had only to contend 
 with the Allobrogcs, whom they had just defeated near Avignon, 
 pursued them up the left bank of the Rhone. The still flying Allo- 
 brogcs crossed the Iscr ; the Komans crossed it behind them. The 
 Allobrogcs plunged into the bowels of their country ; the Konmns 
 followed them, expecting to anive at Vienne at the same time. 
 AVlien only fourteen or fifteen leagues from it, Quintus Fabius and 
 the pro-consul, l^omitius, stopped for the night at Tcgna ; they 
 bivouacked their forty thousand men round the town, and lighted 
 watch-fires. The night passed quietly ; but the next morning, with 
 the first dawn of da^-, the sentinels gave the alarm. During the 
 night two hundrid thousand men had descended from the mountains 
 of the \'ivarais, and the vanguard of this immense army was already 
 on the oj)po.site bank of tlie lilione. 
 
 The llomans could have repassed the Iscr, and regained the city 
 of Sextus ; but they had, throughout Gaul, the reputation of being 
 iin incible, and this retreat would have destroyed it. l-'abius decided 
 on risking a battle, to preserve tlie renown of the eagles ; he ordered 
 his troops to post themselvca half-way down the mountain, and, 
 pitching the consular tents on the top, considered tranquilly the 
 manner in whicli the jjassage of this multitude was to be effected. 
 Trees were thrown across, and nearly forty thousaiul men passed the 
 first day ; but, as at this rate it would have takin five days for the 
 whole army to reach the opposite shore, Bituus ordered a number of 
 l)oats to be chained together, ])lanks were then laid across, and in 
 the morning tl:c Uonians saw Jialf of the Cuiuis in the jdain which 
 lay between tliem and the Iser. Domitius then asked if it was 
 not time for the attack; but Fal)ius reidied: " Ju't thejn i)asN, all whom 
 it can bear, the earth can cover." At eleven o'clock the Uomans had 
 opposite them one hundred and HÎxfy thousand nu-n, and forty thou- 
 «and were still on the other bank, eager to pass. Fabius saw tliat the
 
 ST. PERAY. 107 
 
 moment had arrived ; he ordered the trumpets to sound, and the 
 eagles to be displayed. At the same time the ranks of the Gauls 
 opened, Bituus appeared, elad in magnifieent armour and a robe of 
 splendid eolours, seated on a silver car, and followed by the royal 
 hounds, led by attendants, who placed themselves on the right wing 
 of the ai-my. Then casting his eye on the fom- legions, wliich, close 
 up against each other, hardly covered the base of the mountain, and 
 seeing the weakness of the Komans, the King of the Arbcrni laughed, 
 and gave the order to march. 
 
 " Perhaps you will do well to wait till the rest of your soldiers 
 have passed," said one of the chiefs to him. 
 
 " "\\'ait ! and why ? " asked Eituus ; " there are hardly enough lor 
 my dogs to breakfast on." 
 
 The llomans, motionless as rocks, saw this tide of foes approach- 
 ing them ; but hardly were they within reach of theii- arrows, when 
 the cavalry covered the wings, and the legions dividing, opened a 
 space for the slingers and archers. A hail of arrows and stones 
 welcomed the Gallic army ; but the march of such a multitude was 
 not to be stopped by so slight an opposition. The two armies met, 
 and the struggle commenced, horse against horse, and foot against 
 foot ; the shock was terrible, the combat frightful. At last, after an 
 houi"'s close fighting, the centre of the Romans appeared to give way. 
 Eituus flung himself into the breach which opened before his cai", 
 ordering his dogs to be unloosed, that they might devour the van- 
 quished ; but, in reply to this order, Fabius ordered his centre to 
 open, and Bituus and his troops found themselves opposed to the 
 elephants. At a signal from their conductors, these animals began 
 to march ten in a line, and penetrating into the centre of the enemy, 
 separated into four troops, advanced in fom- different directions, 
 crushing all they met, and trampling men imdcr foot as if they had 
 been grass ; at the same time, by the natural instinct of animals, 
 which leads them to attack the brute creation rather than man, his 
 dogs threw themselves upon the elephants. Irritated by the pain, 
 the latter lost order, and rushing wildly about, attacked and des- 
 troyed indiscriminately men, horses, and dogs, uttering cries which 
 were heard above the tumult of the battle, as the thimder is heard 
 above the roar of the ocean. 
 
 The soldiers of Bituus saw these terrible animals for the first 
 time. They had heard of them, however : their grandfathei-s had 
 seen Hannibal lead forty of them across the Alps, and had spoken of 
 them to their sons and grandsons with a superstitious terror, wnich 
 still endured amongst them. They dared not wait for them, for they 
 knew not how to combat them ; besides, their horses, not beicg able
 
 JOS THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 to beai' the sight or the smell, took fright, turned round, and canicd 
 them away. For a moment the pluiu presented the aspect of a 
 vast circus, in which men, hoi'ses, dogs, and ehphants, were exter- 
 minating each other. Confusion soon spread tlirough the ranks of 
 the Gauls: they hurried towards the bridges, their only mode of 
 reti'cat ; but the bridge of boats not Ix'ing strongly made, the chains 
 broke, the planks gave way, and men and horses fell into the boats, 
 wliich, being overcixjwded, sank ; the bridge was destroyed, and the 
 fl}-ing crowd hastened towards the other. 
 
 The elephants had been re-assembled, and wei-e marched upon 
 the multitude ; and one hundred and twenty thousand men, according 
 to Livy ; one hundred and thirty thousand, according to Pliny ; and 
 one hundred and fifty thousand, according to Paul Orose, slept, never 
 to rise again, on a space hardly sufficient to cover so many bodies, 
 and which extends from the foot of tlie mountain to the Iser. As 
 to Rituus, he swam across the Ithone, and ^vithout soldiei-s or 
 servants, followed by two of his dogs only, i-egained his mountains, 
 leaving in the hands of his enemies his car and his mantle. It Avas 
 then that Fabius and Domitius built two temples on the top of the 
 mountain, one dedicated to Mars, the other to Hercules ; and a column, 
 Burmounted by a trophy of the arms taken by the Gauls. An un- 
 heard of thing, says Florus, for never till then had the lloman people 
 made their victory a i-eproaeh to the con(iuered : " Xec dws tnusita- 
 tus 'iio>itris,tiii>iqiia>ii cmm popiihts llotnaniis hostthus domitis victoriam 
 8U(H)i crprohravity 
 
 Hreakfast having been finished, and the battle-field identified, we 
 came down from the holy mountain, crossed the lliione by the fisrt 
 iron bridge made in France, and found ourselves at Tournon, close to the 
 Chateau of the Dukes of Soubise. On seeing this old, iialf-ruined edifice, 
 I did all I could to draw from those in charge of it some warlike 
 legend, or j)oetical tradition ; but, whether from ignorance or forgetful- 
 ness, or real absence of such, I found (lu' inhabitants as dumb as the 
 ruins of the fortress. As to Tournon, 1 was obliged to be contented 
 with the account given by Gregory of Tours, lie says, tliat an enor- 
 mous rock, leaning against the mountain, and sui)i)()rted upon a bed 
 of ice, fi 11 Jroui its base into the Rhone, ami, iinix'ding its course, 
 obliged it to make a circuit (four), from which Tournon takes its name. 
 I leave my readers to Judge of this ]»nn of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Tile Chateau of Soubiso is built, imleed, on a rock of granite, tho 
 prencnce ofwliieh near the stream is diflicult to explain, nnlesH wo 
 ado])t tlu' Ktoi'y of Gregory of Tours. However, as it began to get 
 late, we left this geological question to be exj)lained by those more 
 leanied than ourselves, and took the load to Valence. After about
 
 ST. PERAY, 100 
 
 two hours' walking, we arrived oj^posite the rock of Glun, wJiich the 
 inhabitants tried to remove from the lllionc, the navigation of which 
 it impedes. Tlie rock is a vestige of tlic Chateau of Ghm, which 
 Louis IX. attacked and took by stonn ; " because," says the autiior 
 of the Annals of liis reign, " the lord of the castle robbed, and spoiled, 
 and overloaded with imposts, all those who passed by the castle, or 
 came ncai* it." It was the second time we had found traces of St. 
 Louis on oui* road. We lost them at Aiguesmortes. 
 
 "WTiile we were looking at this liistorical ruin, above whieli a 
 falcon was hovering in the clouds, some di'ops of ram began to fall, 
 and a peal of thunder was heard ; it was a warnmg for us to hurry 
 on our road; but, in spite of our diligence, night and the raui caught 
 us at some distance fiom Valence. The rain alone was very dis- 
 agreeable, for, being a carriage road, there was no fear of loshig our 
 Avay. We decided on om- course, and bravely let oiu'selves get wet 
 through, till, perceiving a Uttle public-house, we took refuge in it. 
 It was full of people who, caught like us in the stonn, were treating 
 themselves to some nice looldng white wine, and waitmg for the 
 stonn to pass over. Wliile we were di-jing our clothes, Jadin and 
 I looked at each other to know whether we sho\ild do the same. 
 The hermitage we had di-ank in the morning prepared us badly for 
 the wine of a pubhc-house ; however, as the external damp went oft", 
 we felt the necessity oi warmth inside. V,^c therefore determhied to 
 ask om- hostess, half from necessity and half hi pajnnent for hei- 
 hospitality, for the usual bit of bread and cheese and bottle of new 
 wine, which were brought us immediately. In all doubtful cases, 
 like the present, it was always Jadin who sacrificed himself. He half 
 filled his glass, held it to the light, tiu'ned it round, examined it in 
 every way, and, satisfied with his inspection, raised it to liis mouth 
 ■v\^th more confidence. As for me, I followed his movements with 
 the anxiety of a man who, without putting hhnself forwards, must 
 shai'e the good or bad fate of liis travelling companion. I saw Jadin 
 silently taste his fu-st mouthful, then a second, then a thu-d, then 
 empty liis glass and fill it again, all without uttering a word, and 
 with an increasing astonishment which had something religious and 
 grateful about it. Then he began to try it again, witli the same 
 precautions, and appeared to finish it with tlic same enjoyment. 
 
 " Well !" said I, still waithig. 
 
 " True happiness is only to be found in virtue," answered Jadin, 
 gi-avely ; " we are virtuous, and heaven rewards us ; taste that wine." 
 
 I did not wait to be told a second time, but stretched out my glass 
 and swallowed its contents as conscientiouslj* as circumstances required. 
 
 " What do you say to it ?" continued Jadin, with the satisfaction
 
 no THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 of a man who, having been the first to discover a good tiling, wishes 
 his comrade to enjoy it with him. 
 
 " I say that the hostess has made a mistake in the cask, and that 
 she has given us wine at five francs a bottle to take with bread and 
 cheese, wliich appears to me a sti-ange and ill-timed extravagance." 
 
 ' Dame !" called Jadin. 
 
 " Wait one moment, sir," answered the hostess ; " I am trying to 
 get my cat out of your dog's teeth." 
 
 " Mylord, you rascal !" cried Jadin, rising. " Here, here ! "NMiy, 
 you forget where you are. You '11 get us turned out, you ^v^ctch !" 
 
 Mylord came to us licking his lips. The cat was dead; the 
 woman followed him, holding the deceased by the tail. 
 
 " "Well, that was soon done! " said she. " Look here, husband, at 
 poor puss." 
 
 We expected a di'cadful storm, and looked at each other with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Bah ! " said the publican, without even turning his head ; and con- 
 tinuing to wai-m his feet, and to puff away at his pipe. " Tling the 
 good-for-nothing thing out of doors ; it was always eating the cheese, 
 and never the mice. You are a fine fellow," continued he, caressing 
 Alylord; " if you find any others in the house, I give them to you." 
 
 " Come," said I to Jadin, " we arc in the promised land here, and 
 if you take my ad^'ice we sliall lay in a stock of wine and cats." 
 
 " Yes," said Jadin ; " only we ought to know what we are to pay 
 lor them." 
 
 " Tlie gentlemen wanted me ?" said the hostess, retiu-ning, after 
 having got rid of the cat. 
 
 " Yes, my good woman ; we want to know what your wine costs, 
 and what ynur cat is worth?'' 
 
 *' The wine, sir ? Five sous a bottle." 
 
 "And tlic cat?" 
 
 " (), as for the cat, you can give what you like to the girl." 
 
 " But where arc we then," cried I, " that we ma}' prepare a sacri- 
 fice to the gods ?" 
 
 " You are at St. Pcray," was the n])ly. 
 
 "At St. IVray ? Tlu-n try to Kvt us some ment, or an omelette, a 
 sujjjMT of some sort, and bring us two other bottles." 
 
 AVc made, for thn e francs, inchiding the cat, one of tlic best rc- 
 ])nsts we had ever had in our lives. In I'nris, puss a.one would have 
 cost double the money ; it is true wc should probably have eaten him 
 in a stew. 
 
 At ten o'clock wo set out again, gaily, and, aflir twenty minutes 
 walking, reached Valence.
 
 VIEW or VALLNCE. 
 
 CIIAPTEll XII. 
 
 Although Valence, like 
 Vienne, dates from the 
 highest antiquitj" (for, ac- 
 cording to André Duchesne 
 Tourangeau, author of the 
 " Antiquities of the Towns, 
 Castles, and most remark- 
 able Places in France," it 
 must have been founded 
 fifteen hundred years be- 
 fore the birth of Christ, 
 the modern traditions have 
 quite superceded its ancient 
 associations. Cicsar the ge- 
 neral has been forgotten in 
 Bonaparte the sub-Ueuten- 
 ant ; and the Emperor Con- 
 stance, who was taken 
 there, in Pope Pius VI., 
 who died there. 
 
 It was, I believe, in 1788, at Ajaccio, that Bonaparte received his 
 commission of sub-Keutenant in La FOrc's regiment of artillery, in 
 gan-ison at Valence. He left home, and, for the satisfaction of his 
 
 mai>i:moiki;lle
 
 113 THE SOUTU OF FllANCE. 
 
 family, took witli him liis brother Louis, to -whom he was teaching 
 mathematics. Arrived at his destination, he hired a bed-room foi* 
 himself, and an attic for his younger brother, at No. 4, Grande Hue, 
 opjiosite the library kept by Marc Aur( le, in the house of Mile. Bau. 
 
 Bonap;u-te, at that time, lived in great rctii-ement, passing a part 
 of his days in Marc Aurèle's shop, with whom the young sub-lieuten- 
 ant had couti'acted an intimacy, and who had placed all his books at 
 Ms service. As for his evenings, they were devoted to two or three 
 friends: M. Josselin, an old officer; M. de Montalivet, who was 
 aftcrwai-ds a peer of France ; and M. do Taidiva, ex-abbé of St. 
 Ruf. 
 
 Bonaparte had met a young person at M. de Tardiva's, with whom 
 he became passionately in love. Her name was Mademoiselle Grégoire 
 du Colombier, and she belonged to a family in easy if not affluent 
 circumstances. Bona])arte professed, even at this period, that strict- 
 ness of principle, which he preserved on the throne ; and accordingly, 
 no sooner had he received Mademoiselle Grégoii'c's assent, thaii he 
 attempted a step of the greatest boldness in his position — he asked 
 her in marriage. 
 
 Unhappily for BonaiJartc,he had a rival who was preferred to hira — 
 if not by Mademoiselle GrégoiiT, at all events by her family. This 
 rival's name was M. dc Bressicux. The relations did not hesitate for 
 an instant between a gentleman whose fortune was already secured, 
 and a sub-lieutenant who had his to make. Bonaparte was refused, 
 and Mademoiselle Grégoire became Madame de Bressicux. 
 
 This was all the more painful to the young Napoleon, as, if we caji 
 believe those popular anecdotes which always sj)ring up in the wake of 
 great men, he had a presentiment of his future career. One day, 
 having, when in company with some of his young comrades, given 
 three francs as alms to a poor woman, Uie ragged prophetess wished 
 him in return the crown of France. Tho officers began laughing at 
 such an extraordinary amount of gratitude. Bonaparte alone remained 
 sciious; and ^\lu•n his gravity increased the general hilarity, "Gentle- 
 men," said the future sovereign. " I am better than a swine-herd, and 
 SextuH V. became a jjojjc." 
 
 Another day, when Bonnpaite had been at his studies froni five in 
 the morning, .M. I'armentier, tlie sargion of the regiment, entered into 
 the Huh-licufenant's room to sjKak lo liis Ijrotlur I,ouis. Bonaparte 
 look his Kal)re, and knocked at tlie ceiling of liis room with the scab- 
 bard. Five minutes after, I.ouis eame down iuilf asleep. " Idli-. 
 fellow," said Napoleon to him, " are you not ashamed to get up at 
 HUch an hour." " Ah," said Louis, " you scold me, when 1 ought t») 
 blame vou, for you awoke me in tho middle of a beautiful dream ;
 
 VALENCE. 11» 
 
 I was dreaming that I was a King." " You a King," said Napoleon, 
 '* I suppose I was Emperor then." 
 
 Bonaparte remained thi-ee j^ears at Valence, and went away leav- 
 ing a debt of three francs, ten sous, at a pastry-cook's named 
 Coriol. 
 
 In spite of the changes, which took place in his titles, and 
 features, Napoleon did not forget Valence, although he ncTcr entered 
 the town after he became emperor. All the debts which he had 
 contracted then, whether of affection, or of money, were repaid with 
 usury, even to that of the pastry-cook, Coriol. Mademoiselle Gré- 
 goire, then Madame de I5ressieux, was appointed reader to the 
 emperor's mother ; her husband was created baron, and administrator 
 of the forests, and her brother made prefect of Turin. As for Marc 
 Am'ile, he was remembered in another manner. 
 
 On the seventh of October, 1808, dui-ing the celebrated interview 
 at Erfoi-t, while Napoleon was at table with the Emperor Alexander^ 
 the Queen of Westphalia, the King of Bavaria, the King of Wurt- 
 emberg, the King of Saxony, the Grand Duke Constantine, the 
 Prince-primate, and Prince William of Prussia, the conversation fell 
 on the golden bull, under which, until the establishment of the con- 
 federation of the Khine, the election of emperor took place. The 
 prince-primate, who was now on his o^vn subject, entered into some 
 details about it, and placed the date of the bull in the year 1409. 
 
 " I think you make a mistake. Monsieur le Prince,'" said Napoleon, 
 interrupting him. " This bull, if I recollect rightly, was published 
 in 1336, in the reign of the Emperor Charles IV." 
 
 " Your majesty is right," said the prince-primate, in taxing his 
 memory. " But how is it youi- majesty has preserved the date of a 
 bull, with such religious accuracy ? If it had been that of a battle, I 
 should have been less astonished." 
 
 " Shall I tell you the secret of my remembering it, as you seem 
 to be so much astonished. Monsieur le Prince ? " replied Napoleon. 
 
 " Your majesty will give us great pleasui-e by doing so." 
 
 "Well," continued the emperor, "you must know then, that when 
 I was a sub-lieutenant of artillery " 
 
 At this commencement there was a general movement of surprise 
 and curiosity among the illustrious guests, of so marked a nature 
 that Napoleon paused for an instant ; but, seeing that they were aU 
 keeping in order to hear him, he went on with a smile — 
 
 " I was saying, that when I had the honour to be sub-lieutenant 
 of artillery, I remained three years in garrison at Valence. I cared 
 very little for society, and lived very retired. A happy chance placed 
 me opposite a librarian, a well informed, and most obliging man, who. 
 
 I
 
 114 TUE SOUTH OF FKA.NCE. 
 
 placed his libraiy at my service. I read his books through twice, o? 
 ihi-ee times dmung my residence in the capital of La Drome, and I 
 have never forgotten anything which 1 read at that period, not even 
 the date of the golden bull." 
 
 Napoleon, who, as we have said, never retmned to Valence, 
 while he was on the throne, passed through it after his fall, as he 
 was being conducted to the Island of Elba, by the commissioners of 
 the four powers. 
 
 The second association presented by Valence, is as we have said 
 that connected with Pope Pius VI., Avho died in the town, August 29th, 
 1799. He, like Napoleon, had a strange cai'ccr, which dawned in 
 obscm'ity, and set in slaveiy. 
 
 Angelo Braschi, born at Cosena, December 27th, 1717, left his na- 
 tive town at the age of seventeen, to seek his fortune at Home; he 
 had the confidence belonging to that age, was handsome, had plenty 
 of learning, and little money. Immediately on his arrival, he went 
 to a friend of his father's with a letter of intioduction. This liiend 
 made liim the vague oU'ers of assistance which aie made to every one, 
 and when the door was shut, thought no more of him. 
 
 The next day Cardinal Kuffb, and Angelo Praschi's new patron 
 were walking in Mount Piiicio, when a young man passed by them 
 and bowed. 
 
 " AVho is that young man ? " said Cardinal lluH'o. 
 
 "A poor devil,'" replied the patron "who has come to liomc, re- 
 lying on Providence, and who ])r()l)ably at the present moment has 
 not more than a ])iastre in his pocket to live ujwn, until it pleases 
 Providence to think of him." 
 
 The next day with the same walk, came the same meeting, and 
 the same bow. 
 
 " Keally," said Puflb, " I should like to know how far you arc out, 
 as regards the fortune of this fine young man." 
 
 " AVould your Imminence like to ask him to .show the bottom of 
 his purse P" said the ])atron laughing. 
 
 " Yes, call him," said llulfo. 
 
 " liraschi," said the jjalron, calling to him. AN'hcn (he young 
 man liad come to Ihem, "Praschi," he ctintinued, "J lis JCmintiice, 
 the Caidiiial lluflo, desires to know how much yoii had in your 
 pocket when we met you ytstcnliiv, and how much you iiavo 
 to-day?" 
 
 "To any ])crHon not in holy <i dors, I sliould refuse to give an 
 answer," said Prnsdii, "for it is very nniei» in the nature of u con- 
 fession ; but with your J")mincnce (lie eawc is diflerent. Yesterday, I 
 bad a piastre, to-day I have only seven faoii."
 
 VALENCE. 115 
 
 'And how long are you goinjj to live on that seven faoli?" 
 asked lluflb. 
 
 "Neai-ly two days," replied Braschi ; "and two days are almost 
 an eternity." 
 
 " But, when this eternity has come to an end, what do you intend 
 doing?" 
 
 " I don't know. Heaven will provide for me." 
 
 " Do you believe so in earnest ? " replied Rufib, laughingly. 
 
 "Upon my so\il, I believe it," replied Braschi. 
 
 "And you are certain that you will not die of hunger?" 
 
 " Certain." 
 
 " You have so much faith, that I begin to be of your own opinion," 
 said RufFo. " Come mth me." 
 
 " I am at your orders, yom- Eminence." 
 
 Two hours afterwards Angelo Braschi was installed as secretary 
 to Pope Benedict XIV., who, the following year made him auditor, and 
 soon afterwards treasm-er of the Apostolic Chamber, a place which 
 leads infalhbly to the purple. On the death of Rezzonico, he re- 
 ceived the cardinal's hat, from the hands of Clement XIV., and 
 when the latter in his turn died, the poor child of Cesena, who had 
 come to Rome -svith a piastre in his pocket, succeeded liim as spiritual 
 Kingof the Christian world, under the title ofPius VI., February 15th, 
 1775. 
 
 Pius VI., as we have seen, attained to the pontificate at a stormy 
 period: the horizon was every^vhere black with the coming tempest. 
 The Jesuits, whose order it had been attempted to reform, and who 
 had declared theii" wish to coidinxe as they had cominenced, or not 
 continue at all, had been abolished by Ganganelli; America, by the 
 help of France, was gaining its independence fi'om England ; the 
 Emperor Joseph had declared himself at the head of the philosophers ; 
 Naples was preparing to free itself from the allegiance wliich she 
 owed to Rome : the eai'th was full of convulsions, and every throne 
 trembled. 
 
 During these horns of calmness which precede great conflicts, 
 Pius VI. did a great deal : he made the Vatican that magnificent 
 museum which the artists of all nations now \\s\i ; ho enlarged the 
 harbour of Ancona, and constructed the lighthouse which stands there; 
 he added a magnificent sacristan to the basilisk of St. Peter ; replaced 
 the obelisk of the Quirinal ; and finally, he ])iusucd that great work 
 which the Roman Republic bequcatlied to the emperors, and the 
 emperors to the popes — the draining of the Pontine Marshes. Thanks 
 to liis immense labours, the Appian road, tliat master-piece of Roman 
 industry, Avas freed from the moimtains which encumbered it, and 
 
 I 2
 
 116 TUE SOUTU OF FRANCE. 
 
 under ■whicli it had almost disappeared. A canal was dug for con- 
 ducMng the stagnant vraters to Lake Fogliano. Twelve thoiisiuid 
 acres were regained for the cultivation of corn and the feeding of 
 cattle. An entire town was about to be raised in the midst of this 
 triumph of human will over nature, when the French llevolution 
 broke out, bringing with it the civil constitution of the clergy which 
 destroyed all gi-ades of spii-itual priesthood. It was to this constitu- 
 tion that the priests were rcquii-ed to swear to, but out of tliirty- eight 
 bishops four only submitted to it, and out of sixty-four thousand 
 priests, sixty-two thousand five hunih-ed refused it. This resistance 
 might be expected to have found and did naturally find a support in 
 Home, and the href doctrinal was the electric chain which conducted 
 the lightning up to the Vatican. On 13th February, 1793, the French 
 consul received orders to place the escutcheon of liberty on the door 
 of his house and on that of the Academy. This order was transmitted 
 by Major Flotte and by the Commissar}" Hugon de Bassvillc, and 
 was accordingly executed. The people murmured, but llugon and 
 Flotte got into theii- carriage, and with the tricolour cockade in their 
 hats, took the line of the Hue du Coui"s, Upon this the jieoplc from 
 murmms changed to groans, and the tAvo commissioners replied by 
 contemptuous expressions. 
 
 The tumult increased, threats were uttered, and at Fiome the 
 action follows the threat immediately. The cai-riage of tlie two commis- 
 sioners was overturned ; Flotte escaped, and Bassvillc tried to defend 
 himself, when a barber glided between the legs of those who sur- 
 rounded him, and stubbed liim with his razoi*. The llepublic had 
 now a murder to avenge. 
 
 The vengeance was slow. Our armies were tliree years on their 
 road to Jiome, for in this road were Mantua, Areola, and Lodi. At 
 last I'onaparte, who six years ])reviously had left at the commence- 
 ment of his career that town at wliich I'ius VI. was tliree years after- 
 wards to ])ring Ilia to a conclusion — IJonapaite encampid before 
 Rome, as IJrennus, Hannibal, Alaric, and the Constable de Bourbon 
 had previously done. On tlie lOtli February, 1797, (he treaty wliith 
 placed Home under a contribution of tliirty-one millicm francs, whidi 
 taxed it with a supply of sixteen hundi'cd horses, and took from it a 
 part of Komagna, was signed at Tolenlino; and, as new victories 
 were calling Napoleon to the Tyrol, (ùneral Victor remained near 
 Ancona with fifteen thousand men, in order to see the treaty exe- 
 cuted. 
 
 It was then that the assassination of Dupliot took ])lace— an 
 as-sassinution wliicli callid for a second vengeance. 'I'liis second 
 vengeance was more promjjt and more terribk- than the first. 15er-
 
 VALENCE. 117 
 
 tliier took the command of the army; and, on tbc 19th of January, 
 1798, encamped in his turn beneath the walls of Home, which he 
 entered, at the end of seventeen days, with Massona. A month after- 
 wards, Pius VI. left the city by the Porte Angélique, as a prisoner ; 
 he was then eighty years old. 
 
 Undecided as to what country the captive ought to be taken to, 
 the dircctorA' at first had him conducted to Vienne, but in consequence 
 of an earthquake, they left it for Florence. In the conmicnccment 
 of the year 1799, when the Russian and Austrian armies were 
 threatening Italy, he was removed in spite of the paralysis, by whicli 
 he had been attacked to Parma, from Parma to Turin, fi-om Tiu-in to 
 Briançon, and from Briançon to Valence, where he died, on the 27th 
 of August. Dm-ing his journey, he had been obliged to cross 
 !Mount Genè\T0 on a litter, in the midst of the snow, his body covered 
 with woimds. It was on July 14th, that he entered the town, where 
 no accommodation had been prepared for liis reception ; he was con- 
 ducted to the government house, and whilst the room was being 
 prepared for him, was set down on the terrace. It was then, that he 
 opened his eyes, which he kept almost always shut ; and, astonished 
 ■vsith the magnificence of the landscape which was displayed beneath 
 his eyes, he raised liimsclf on the litter, and cried out " O chc hella 
 vista!" 
 
 In the meanwhile, the illness of the sovereign pontiff was advan- 
 cing with rapid strides, and the martyr was approaching the end 
 of his siiffcrings. On the 20th August, a violent vomiting an- 
 nounced that the paralysis had reached his bowels. Pius VI., 
 feeling immediately that his end drew near, asked for the viaticum 
 from the Archbishop of Corinth; and received it sitting uj) in an 
 arm-chaii-, clad in liis pontifical robes, with one of his hands resting 
 tipon his breast, and the other on the Holy Gospel. On the next day 
 the extreme unction was administered to him by the same person. 
 Towards midnight the palpitations became so frequent, that they 
 left no further doubt as to the state of his holiness. The Archbishop 
 of Corinth, v*'ho had already given him the viaticum, and the extreme 
 unction, gave him the papal absolution. Pius VI. making a last 
 effort, raised liimself, and in dying pronounced his sovereign benedic- 
 lion on the world, which he was about to leave. Some hours afterwards 
 he exph-ed. 
 
 An horn' afterwards, a man wearing a chcsnut colom-ed coat, 
 leather breeches, and jack boots, and with a tri-colom-ed scarf round 
 his body, entered the chamber of the defunct, went to liis bed, lifte:! 
 up the sheet which covered the corpse, examined v>-liether he were 
 really dead, assembled the attendants who had accompanied Pius VI.,
 
 lia. THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 sat down before a table, took from liis pocket an ink-stand, pen, and 
 paper, and drew up the di-aft of the following process verbal, which 
 he afterwards copied into the registers of the mayoralty : — 
 
 " To-day, the twelfth fructidor, the year seven of the French Republic, 
 at the hour of three in the afternoon, before me, Jean Louis Chauvau, 
 municipal administrator of the commonalty of Valence, appointed for the 
 purpose of drawing up deeds for the notification of the births, deaths, and 
 marriages of the citizens. M. Joseph Spina, Archbishop of Corinth, haa 
 appeared, accompanied by M. Jean, priest, aged forty years, M. Jerome 
 FantiNy, also priest, and M. Caracholo, whose first name is TJnico, also a 
 priest, and also aged forty, the said Fantiv}', being aged sixty-four year», 
 and all four of them living at Valence, in the house belonging to the citadel, 
 and attached to the after-mentioned deceased, and has declared to me, that 
 Jean Angclo Braschi, Pius VI., pontiff of Rome, died this day at twenty- 
 five minutes past one in the morning, in the said house, being aged eighty-one 
 years, eight months, and two days, certified as true by the deponent, and 
 the witnesses. I immediately went to the said dwelling-house, accompanied 
 by the said members, composing the central administration, and by tlie com- 
 missioner of directory, besides two members of the municipal administration ; 
 being tbere, we the public officers and administrators, undermentioned, 
 called for the citizens Duvauve officer of health, and Vidcl the elder officer 
 of health in chief, at the military hospital of this communally, Avho, after 
 having examined the said Braschi, Pius VI., have confirmed his death to us; 
 from which I have drawn up tlie official document in i)resence of the com- 
 mandant of the place, and of the justice of the peace, belonging to tho 
 canton, and have signed it with them, the members of the said constituted 
 authorities, the said officers of health, tho deponent, tho witnesses, and tlie 
 citizen Doux, secretary to the said communalty, also signing : Valence in 
 tho house of the eummunalty, the day, month, and year above mentioned 
 The signatures follow." 
 
 Sucli i.s tho notification, copied literally, of the death of the two 
 hundred and fiftj-fourth successor of St. Peter. There is, perha]\s, 
 only one documeni in the nrdiives of all our history, that can be com- 
 pared to it : we mean the process-verbal of tlie death of I.ouis XVII. 
 
 Thus, at tlie same time, I'nnicc wa.s called to give the nations an 
 txaniplc of the double luiiiiiiiatioii of the temporal and sjiiritual 
 power, upon whieli, up to that time, had rested the social édifice of 
 half the world. 
 
 M. Delaeroi.x, a learned nrclitrologian, and author of an excellent 
 nccount of the historj'and antiepiities of the department of La Drome, 
 did UH the honours of tho town of Valence. Adopting a chronological 
 order in examining the town, lie conducted us first to the leaning tower 
 which popular tradition eairies back to the tliird century, and which 
 now aH it then was, Ivnt down to sainte tlie f'hristians St. Felix, Fort u-
 
 VALENCE. 119 
 
 natus, and Irenfcus, as they were marching to the stake, and has re- 
 mained miraculously bent ever since in memory of their martyrdom. 
 We went next to the cathedral dedicated formerly to Saint Cornelius 
 and Saint Cyprian, and now to Saint Ajjollinarius ; it was consecrated 
 the 5th August, 1095, by Pope Urban IL, as he was going to the coun- 
 cil of Clcrmout, where the fii'st crusade was resolved upon, as is esta- 
 blished by the following Latin inscription : — 
 
 " Anno ab incarnatione Domini millcsimo nonagesimo quinto, indictione 
 secunda, nonis Augusti, Urbanus papa socundus, cum duodecem opiscopis, in 
 honorem beataj Marite virginis, ct sanctorum martyrum CorncHi ct Cypriani, 
 banc ecclesiam dedicavit." 
 
 It is in the cathedral that Pius VI.'s monument was erected in the 
 fii'st instance, liis heart, inclosed in an m-n, had been kept in the cita- 
 del, and his body placed in a common cemetery ; but, by a decision 
 wliich Bonaparte, who had now arrived at the consulate, made his 
 two colleagues agree to on November, 30th, 1799, it was enacted " that 
 the honours of sepultui'c should be rendered to tliis old man, who was 
 made respectable by his misfortunes, who had not been for an instant 
 an enemy of France, excepting when led away by perfidious advisers 
 Avho surrounded liis old age ; moreover it was worthy of the dignity 
 of the French nation, and in conformity with the kindliness of its 
 nature to give such marks of consideration to him who had occupied 
 one of the highest ranks on earth," &c. 
 
 The bodj' of Pius VI. was, in consequence, exhumed ; and, strangely 
 enough, this exhumation was the work of a Protestant, who raised 
 around the coffin a little vault of stone-work, the door of which was 
 walled up. Two years after, the concordat granted by Pius VIL to 
 Bonaparte served as a ransom for the mortal remains of his prede- 
 cessor, which, in accordance -with the intentions of the dying pope, were 
 removed to the basilisk of St. Peter at Home. However, the urn 
 Avhich contained liis heart was retm-ned to the town of Valence, and a 
 monument, surmounted by a bust of Pius VI. by Canova, was exe- 
 cuted to receive it. 
 
 On leaving the church we went to see a beautiful little monument 
 of the renaissance age, erected by Italian sculptors about 1530, and 
 kno%vn by the name of the Pendentif of Valence. Its purport has 
 long been a subject of discussion, but it now appears certain that it 
 was the funeral vault of the Mistral family. 
 
 This is not the only monument of the period of the renaissance 
 left at Valence by this great but now extinct family. The hotel, 
 which is used as a warehouse by the son of the librarian of Mai'c 
 Anréle, whom we have seen so kindly remembered by Bonaparte, 
 is a mai-vel of the sixteenth century to which I have seen no equal
 
 183 THE SOUTH OF FKANCE. 
 
 cither in France or Enj^land : it is. as 'wc have said, exactly opposite 
 the house wliich was inhabited three years by the sub-lieutenant of 
 Ajaccio. 
 
 "NVe were returning' -with our cicerone, -when he renienibcred some- 
 thing else which he had forgotten to show us, and this would have 
 been a sin, as the Italians say, for we recommend it to artists as being 
 very curious : it is a door in the court -yard of the house No. 35, Rue 
 de la PcroUcrie, and is a beautiful specimen of artistic simplicity, for 
 l!: has preserved the costumes of the period at which tlie artist exe- 
 cuted his work, instead of falsifj-ing those of the time at which the 
 action represented took place. 
 
 The subject represented in the first compartment on the left-hand 
 side is the history of Helen, forming with her brother Castor and her 
 mother Leda, a veiled group, from which two dancing satyrs arc 
 raising the drapery. It is not, we must acknowledge, in this first 
 panel that the costmncs of the fifteenth century are to be foiuul ; the 
 artist, on the contrary, has strictly followed all the details of ancient 
 tradition. 
 
 The second panel represents Paris, the handsome shepherd, dressed 
 as a young nobleman of the court of Francis I., with a toipic and fca- 
 theis, a velvet mantle, and silk pantaloons; behind him is Jupiter, 
 who chose liim to decide the dispute between the goddesses. The 
 master of the gods, whoso sceptre shows his power, is clad in a Flo- 
 rentine cuirass, tastefully made, and looking as if it came from the 
 hands of Benvenuto Cellini. Before the judge, Venns, Juno, and 
 Pallas, whose whole costume consists in a head dress, arc dis])uting 
 for the prize of beauty, which Venus has ahvady received, and on the 
 left a beautiful battle horf-e is priwing the ground impatient to carry 
 the hand.somc sluijherd bad: to the court of the Icing his fatlicr. 
 
 The third compartment represents the elopement of Helm. The 
 two lovers are so impatient to lly, that Paris has only had time to 
 put on his helmet, and carries the rest of his elollics on the end of 
 a spear; it is tnie he would have had some troiible to put them on, 
 for love has lent him his wings to render his (light quicker and saf("r. 
 
 All these little figures are charmingly handled aTid most elegantl> 
 finished, and I was more fortunate in discovering this treasure, as il 
 is in the court -yard of a private house, and unknown to three quarters 
 of the inhabitants of Valence itself. Our la.sf visit was to the govern- 
 ment hfnise. "NVc were .shi>wn the room in wlii» h Pius VI. die d, wliieli 
 is now used as a work-room by the shoemakers of the garrison, and 
 tho only traces of tlu? sojourn which the sovereign pontlfl'made tluri' 
 ;!re the four metal bam fastened into the ceiling which HU.staincd the 
 tester of his bed. 'J"ho niin wliieh had drenched us the dny before,
 
 V.M.EKCE. 121 
 
 and tlie sho%TGrs that were threatening for the next day, liad deprived 
 us of any fancy for pedestrian excursions, so wc set out in search of 
 a carriage of some sort, and -with great trouble succeeded in finding a 
 cabriolet, a horse, and a driver, -whicli were given us by the stable- 
 man for ten fi-ancs a day. We packed ourselves as comfortably as we 
 could into the vehicle, and the next morning at day -break left Va- 
 lence, and following the ancient Aurelian way, which goes fi-om Aries 
 to Keims, took the road to Montelimar. * 
 
 It was quite dark when wo reached it, and, knocking at the 
 principal door of the inn, a stable-boy came to open it, whose face 
 was covered with blood; his forehead had been cut open an hour 
 before by a kick from a horse. AVe asked him why he had not had 
 liis head bandaged and gone to bed ? 
 
 " And who would liavc done my work ?" answered he. 
 " At least," said I, " be bled, wash the wound, and put on a 
 bandage." 
 
 "Bah! bah!" continued he carelessly; "it is nothiiig ; it would 
 have di-ied long ago, had there been any wind." 
 
 Had such an accident happened to a Parisian, he woiUd have 
 kept his room at least a mouth. This was a new proof to me that 
 pain was but a relative sensation caused by nervous sensibility, and 
 that the effect is not identical in different organizations, even when 
 the wound is the same. 
 
 It was in tliis little town the Acunum of the Romans, which took 
 from its Teutonic conqueror Adhémar the rismc of Montclium Adhe- 
 maris, û-om wliich the modern inhabitants had derived that of Monte- 
 limar, that we began to perceive we were rcacliing the soutli, Avith 
 its fresh and blood-stained memorials of 1815. 
 
 A man of from thirty to thirty-five years of age, with a southern 
 cctrntenance, was relating in his patois, wliich wo could hardly under- 
 iitand, a scene of massacre. The names of Simon le Grêlé, Pointu de 
 Iloquefort, and Trcstaillon, recui-red every moment : his auditors 
 appeared to listen with great attention, and laughed at the half 
 terrible, half comic, particulars. As far as we could understand, it 
 was about a bandit named Caillé de Caderousse, who happened to be 
 with the narrator at Avignon during one cf those da}-s when the 
 mute and despairing town was given up to tlie -v-iolcncc of assassins. 
 The scene passed in a public-house, where t'r.e narrator, Caillé, Simon, 
 and a tlxird person, were drinldng together. As the last was raising 
 a glass of wine to liis lips, he saw in the market-place an old woman, 
 who, when the emperor was going to the Isle of Elba, had given 
 him a basin of soup. He set down his glass, took his carbine, aimed 
 at the woman, whom he missed, and lulled a man wlio was passing
 
 122 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 on the other side of the street. " Sacri maladré !" said ho, setting 
 clown his carbine, and emptying his glass. This was all the funeral 
 oration of the deceased, whose body remained on the spot till night, 
 as nobody dared to remove it. " The teeth of the fédéré,'' said the 
 speaker, " chattered like castanets !"' which the man ^vitl^ the carbine 
 perceiving : *' Come, friend, and embrace me !'' said he, and he em- 
 braced liim. Caillé, sensible of the honom", wished to pay ; but the 
 other rose, and declared that it was he who stood treat. Caillé 
 did not resist, for fear of annoying Ids companion, who told the inn- 
 keeper that he would pay the expenses. The result was that the 
 innkeeper lost his money. 
 
 We were in a large dark room, Jadin and I seated in a chimney 
 comer; and at a few steps fi-om us were seen, by the light of a small 
 candle, these foui- men, chinking, and talking of assassination, death, 
 and blood, with a smile upon their lips; and sliowing, as they laughed, 
 those white and dog-like teeth of the inhabitants of the south, which 
 seem to have been taken from the jaws of a jaguar. "We were now 
 standing on that hot and parched earth, where blood is diawn upon 
 such shght provocation, where the soil and the inhabitants were 
 equally unknown to us, and where that peculiar temper, half Saracen, 
 half Spanish, which it is requisite to study so long before it is under- 
 stood, revealed itself to us for the first time. The effect was extra- 
 ordinary; certainly we had nothing to fear, and we feared nothing; 
 but, by a simultaneous movement, we both extended our hands, Jadin 
 to his fowling-peice, I to my carbine; and when we retired to our cham- 
 ber, beside the one occupied by the four travellers, we examined our 
 fii-c-arms to see if they were primed, and j)laced (liem by our Ix-ds. 
 
 On the morrow we again commenced our anecdotes of Napoleon. 
 During the moment of disgrace into which he fell after the seige of 
 Toulon, while ])assing through Montelimar witli his brother Joseph, 
 he Ktopprd for a moment to achnire tlie bcautj' of the spot; his mind 
 was then turned altogether to repose; to his project.s of war had 
 succeeded projects of liorticulture — the soldier would become a la- 
 bourer. He asked if tliere was any house to sell in the neighbour- 
 hood, and was directed to M. (irastson, who conducted him to a 
 country liouse named lieausrjour. It was lialf farm, half chateau, 
 and brought in about two tliousand francs a year, for which tJiey 
 OMked forty tliousand francH. Ah it was evidently a bargain, Hona- 
 parto immediately went to the notaiy employed for the sale, and 
 offered liim twenty-five thousand francs. 
 
 "If i» uhcIpbh to offer anything leiw." replicnl the notary; it is 
 ah%a/1y very cheap, and, were it not for a certain circumstance, you 
 would not liave if for lees than seventy thousand franc><."
 
 VALENCE. 123 
 
 "And what is that circumstance?" said Bonaparte. "I must 
 know it, for it may be some defect in the title." 
 
 "Oh, no, sir," replied the notary; "of that there is no danger; 
 and to you, a stranger, the cii-cumstance would be perfectly indiffer- 
 ent." 
 
 « What may it be ? " 
 
 " A murder was committed there ! " 
 
 " "Who was the murderer ? " 
 
 " A man named Barthélémy." 
 
 "^Vhomdidhekill?" 
 
 " His father ! " 
 
 " A parricide ! " exclaimed Bonaparte, turning pale ; " let us go, 
 let us go, Joseph." 
 
 And, notwithstanding the entreaties of the notary, the two young 
 men returned to the hotel, and the same evening set out for Paris. 
 
 How different might have been the fate of France, had Bonapai'te 
 purchased Beauséjour !
 
 CHAPTER XIIT. 
 
 OKANCt. 
 
 On leaving Montclimar, wc find ourselves again occupied with ancie:>t 
 history. Saint-Paul-les-tiois-Chàtcaux, the ancient capital of the 
 Tricastini, rises to the left of the road. It was there that the Gaul 
 I3ellovcsu.s halted to collect his army, in the year of Rome, 153, and 
 Hannibal, four hundi-ed ycai-s afterwards, passed through it with his 
 troops. Augustus established a colony there under t'le name of Augusta 
 Tricastinorum, and Pliny places it in the number of Roman towns. 
 
 Proceeding from Montelimar, one begins to perceive, from the 
 appearance of the soil, that the south has now arrived. The earth 
 is hotter, the air more limpid, and the outlines of objects more 
 marked ; but the olive trees, which formerly spread to the gates of 
 the town, now do not extend further than the Pont St. Esprit. The 
 lirst tree of this kind, a miserable little dwarf — an 
 advanced, a rotten, a lost sentinel — endeavours lo 
 exist in the 
 is painful to 
 docs it appeal 
 
 ^^'e nrrivi 
 ous bridge, 
 which be- 
 longs half 
 toProvcnce, 
 half toLan- 
 
 ..irLB nr Mc.BMt
 
 Or.AXGl::. 125 
 
 gucdoc. A monk, in the year 1263, dreamed he saw tongues of fire ar- 
 lungcd along the lllionc at certain distances from each other, and the 
 next day told liis dream to the superior, Jean deThiange. The latter, 
 alter reflecting for a moment, interpreted the dream as an order 
 given by God to the community, to build a bridge across the Hhone. 
 There was only one obstacle to tliis decree of heaven, which was, 
 that the community had not a farthing. Happily, the prior was a 
 man of resources ; he sent out the whole convent to beg, and each 
 monk did his part so well, that two years afterwards, during the 
 reign of Pliilip Ic Bel, Jean do Thiangc laid the first stone in honour 
 of tlic Holy Trinity. The Pont St. Esprit, so named from the tongues 
 of fire to which it owed its erection, was commenced, then, in 1265, 
 and finished in 1307. Each of the arches was baptized, and received 
 a particular name, and these names had a meaning ; for in case of 
 accidents, and accidents were frequent on the llhone, in that part 
 where it breaks rapidly and furiously on the bridge ; by crying out 
 the name, people at once knew the arch against which the boat had 
 been dashed, and the spot where immediate assistance ought to be 
 given.* 
 
 "We dined hastily, that we might visit the Hermitage of St. Pan- 
 eras, which is situate on the top of a hill, at about tlirce quarters of 
 a league from Pont St. Esprit, before nightfall. The only curiosity 
 which it exhibits is a well, the water of which is always on a level 
 with that of the llhone, so that it takes three minutes and a half for 
 a stone to fall to the bottom, and an hour to draw a bucket of water 
 from it; we confined ourselves to making the first experiment. The 
 next day we crossed the Pont St. Esprit again, and passed from Lan- 
 guedoc into Provence, as on the eve we had passed from Provence to 
 lianguedoc. The country was becoming more marked and pietui'- 
 esque; the old castles of Montdragon and Mornas encircled the 
 crests of the rocks on which they are built, with a crown of ruins. 
 We stopped at the last one, which recalled a terrible event. Towards 
 the year 1565, during the religious wars which desolated the south, 
 the Catholics, having introduced themselves into the town of Mornas, 
 took the castle by surprise, slaughtered the garrison ; and, as it was 
 then about ten days before the Eéte Dieu, many of the conquerors, 
 more fervent than the others, covered the posts of their houses with 
 the skins of the murdered Protestants. The Baron des Adrets heard 
 of tlie circumstance, and, less to avenge the death of his co-religion- 
 
 • These aiclics are twcntj- in number. Their names, which are found at the western 
 extremity of the briil^-e, in the first house on the left, inscribed above a very curious 
 drawing of thebridpre, were, Laloure, Bairalcnet, Lacroix, lîourdigalic, Sauset, Matinière, 
 Latrcillc, Viijnit^re, GrossepitH-re, lloubin, Malepile, Laroute, St. Nicolas, Fruchc, Gre- 
 nouillière, Piledc, Terre, Savignon, l'éliciùre, and Traugé.
 
 136 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 ists, than to retake a fortress -which commanded the road of Marseille, 
 he sent Dupray dc Montbrun to conquer back Mornas. The tremend- 
 ous partizauship of this man is well known ; converted by Theodore 
 de Beze from being such a zealous Catholic, that he had -wished to 
 kill his sister for abjui-ing that religion, he became such an ardent 
 Huguenot, that he succeeded the Baron des Adrets in the command 
 of the Protestant army, when the latter, in his turn, became a Catho- 
 lic. Montbrun, after a terrible siege of three days, retook the castle ; 
 and the Catholic garrison found itself at the mercy of the conqueror. 
 The next day da Adrets arrived. 
 
 It may be known that he had certain fixed principles, on which 
 he treated his conquered foes. If he took a castle, he made the be- 
 sieged jump from the top to the bottom of the walls ; if he gained a 
 victory in the held, he had all the prisoners hanged up to the nearest 
 trees. This time it was a magnificent affaii* ; for, besides the walls, 
 ■which were thii'ty feet high, there was a pointed rock, Avhich was of 
 the height of two hundred. He had not a moment's embarrassment 
 as to the plan of execution. He assembled the garrison, and 
 made them thi-ow themselves from the summit of the rock, one and 
 all, and they were all destroyed on the stones at the base, with the 
 exception of one, who continued to cling to a fig-tree, wliich grew 
 out of some crevice. Des Adrets threw him down a rope, and saved 
 his life ; and then, not being able to keep the castle, and being un- 
 willing to leave it to the Protestants, he blew up the vaiious pai-ts of 
 it by means of a mine. 
 
 We entered the town of Mornas, and endeavoured to find out by 
 what road we could get to the remains of tlie eagle's nest, which wo 
 had seen on the top of the rock. The inhabitants showed us the path, 
 which led from the town, and we began ascending one of the sides of 
 the mountain upon which the castle is situate. At about a third of 
 the ascent, and at some steps from the church, we met with the ruins, 
 which have fallen down the slope, and wliich were nearly a quarter 
 of a league of earth. In tlie midst of this chaos the inhabitants have 
 laid out little patches, which they have planted with vines, and wliich 
 are, natural! J- enough enclosed by the stones found about tliem. At 
 last, after half an hour of dreadful fatigue, caused by the soil giving 
 way, we arrived at the first court-yard, which still shows the signs of 
 death. Our entrance among these ruins, which are rarely visited, 
 caused quite a commotion among the winged inhabitants, wlio have 
 taken posscHsion of it : hawks and tarsels flew around us on all sides, 
 uttering the most shrill cries. I aimed at one of them, and missed 
 him ; but, on hearing the report, an unfortunate screech-owl, who had 
 been bleeping quietly under tlie arches, woke up, and, dazzled by the
 
 ORANGE. 127 
 
 daylight, moved silently and slowly towards a projection in the wall, 
 which it knocked against, and then fell at our feet. Luckily for it, 
 Mylord's attention was occupied: this little fact saved its life. 
 
 It is impossible to imagine a more extensive and historical ^•iew 
 than the one from these ruins: in the east, the summits of the Mari- 
 time Alps ; in the north, Valence, which we had quitted two days 
 previously ; in the south, Avignon, where we were to arrive the day 
 after next ; in the west, the plains of Languedoc, extending to Mount 
 Lozère. Fancy a circumference enclosing the camp where Belloncsus 
 collected his troops for the invasion of Italy ; the field of battle where 
 the Consul Cœpio, laden with the gold of Toulouse, and his colleague, 
 Cn. Manlius, left stretched beneath the hatchet of Ambio and Kim- 
 rick eighty thousand Roman soldiers and forty thousand slaves and 
 attendants ; Iloquemam'us, at which place Hannibal crossed the 
 Rhone on his way to gain the battles of Trebia, Thrasimene, and 
 Canna;; and finally, Orange, where Domitius Ahenobarbus entered in 
 triumph mounted on one of those elephants to which he owed the 
 victory : and after letting one's eyes wander over this horizon of 
 wonderful reminiscences, is it not curious to be able to fix them on 
 the remains of another civilization and another epoch — to witness 
 the slow and continuous struggle of years with these desolate and 
 uninhabited ruins ; and occasionally, in the midst of a death-like 
 silence, to hear the fall of a stone, a sorrowful and solemn echo, which 
 proclaims the victory of time ! 
 
 At Mornas we begin to perceive, from the language of the inha- 
 bitants, how far we have gone towards the south. After passing 
 Valence, a slight accent can be i^erceived in tlie language ; at Monte- 
 limar it is decidedly different ; but at Palude, it changes to an unin- 
 telligible/)a^t)2s. On going back to the village, we found an Englishman 
 at the inn, who spoke seven languages, but who had been obliged to 
 imitate the cackling of a hen, in order to obtain a couple of new-laid 
 eggs. As we could not rely upon our pantomime to obtain such a 
 repast as we wished, we preferred waiting for dinner until we reached 
 Orange. 
 
 In spite of our haste, we could not get there before night, which 
 we much regretted, as we knew that at Orange we should find the 
 earliest ruins of Roman civilization in Gaul still standing — a tri- 
 umjjhal arch in perfect preservation ; a theatre, of which enough 
 remains for imagination to rebuild the whole, the ruins of a circus 
 and an amjjhitlieatre, prove that Orange was a colony of the first 
 class. Our love for archaeology led us into an act of great impru- 
 dence, for we took rooms at tlie hotel nearest the triumphal arch, so 
 as to have it close at hand on awaking the next morning.
 
 128 THE SOUTH OF FRANCK. 
 
 As AYC had no letters for this town and knew nobody, we asked 
 our host if there was an j hospitable antiquary in the place who would 
 be kind enough to shew us over it the next day. He named M. 
 Xogcnt ; and as there was still time for a visit, even in the country, 
 we made a hasty toilet, and, guided by the stable-boy, who offered to 
 introduce us, we ventured to make our request to the areluvologist. 
 
 "We were most successful in our exchange of fraternity. ^I. 
 Nogent received us with greater kindness than we could have ven- 
 tured to hope for : and tlic same evening showed us his cabinet, full of 
 medals, antique fragments, and funereal urns, which had been dis- 
 covered in the tombs of the ancient Romans, and stQl contained the 
 abhes they had been destined to receive and preserve. 
 
 We remained with him till ten in the evening ; and on leaving, 1 
 carried away enough work for half the night. 
 
 We have seen how the Romans were originally invited into Gaul: 
 every one knows how Ctrsar completed the conquest, and com- 
 menced the establishment of colonics. Tiberius Nero, father of the 
 Emperor Tiberius, was ordered by him to lead his legions to the princi- 
 pal towns, and quarter them there. In this manner he peopled Aries, 
 Xarbonne, and ])robably Orange, with soldiers, if avc can believe in a 
 medal quoted by Goltzius, and adopted by Father Ilardouin, which 
 indicates that Nero led the thirty-third cohort of the second legion to 
 Orange. Now, had this Nero been Nero Impcrator, not only his name 
 but his effigy would have been found on the medal ; but the name only 
 being there, Nero Qucstor is doubtless intended, which would make the 
 period at which the old Gallic city changed its Celtic name of Araïnon 
 to the Roman one of Arausio, about forty-five years before Christ. 
 
 The new colonists were not long in discovering that the posi- 
 tion of the (own at the extremity of the Vocontii, (whose fidelity, 
 if we are to believe Cicero in his pleadings for Fonteius, was doubt- 
 ful.) and the strenglii of its situation on a mountain overlooking the 
 Rlione, made it extremely valuable as a military fortification and 
 a civil colony ; and in order to reconcile the inhabitants to their 
 dominion, in accordance with their usual policy, the conquerors built 
 theatres, arenas, acjueducts, and a circus at Orange, Avhieh called forth 
 admiration and gratitude towards tiuir new mother from the adopted 
 citizens of Rome. As to the triumi)lml arch, it seems probabU- that 
 it had been built a ctntury before Ciesar ; that is, if we adopt the 
 opinion most generally believed, which ascribes the erection of this 
 monument to J)omilius .Mienoburbus. There are two others, which 
 attribute it, one to Marius, the other to Cie.sar. An arehu'dlngical 
 work which is now before me, and which is by M. Gas])ariii, ex- 
 Minister of the Interior, permits us to examine here these three
 
 ORANGE. 129 
 
 Theories, and to reproduce them, together with the reasons A\'hicli mili- 
 tate for or against each. 
 
 Those who arc of opinion that the triumphal arch dates from the 
 time of Domitian, are Pontanus. in his Itinéraire de la Gard Narbon- 
 naisc, pages 5 and 45 ; Mandojors, in his Histoire Critique, page 
 96; Spoe, in his Voyage en Dalmati, vol. i. page 9; Guibes, in the 
 Journal de Trivoux, for December, 1729; and finally, M. Lapaillonno 
 de Serignan, in a memorial which he presented to the Count of Pro- 
 vence during his voyage in the south. 
 
 Notwithstanding the proofs accumulated by these four archœolo- 
 gists, the partizans of ^Marias and Augustus continued to make objec- 
 tions which left the question undecided, when M. Fortia d'Urban, 
 visiting the triumphal arches of Cavaillon and Carpentras, perceived 
 that all three were built in the same style, tliat all three were situated 
 on the ancient road which leads from Valence to Marseilles ; and con- 
 cluded from this that all three were built to celebrate the same triumph. 
 According to Suetonius. Domitius Ahenobarbus, jealous of the victory 
 that his colleague Fabius Maxim us, had, as we have said, gained 
 between Momit Hermitage and the banks of the Isère, and not being 
 able to have a triumph at Rome, as his victory had not finished the war, 
 determined at least to have one in Gaul. He went, in consequence, 
 from Valence to Marseilles, seated on an elephant, followed by his army, 
 and carrying with him all the trophies of his victory. The ^Massali- 
 otes, who were allies of the Koman people, and first cause of the wars, 
 "which Rome, whose ideas of invasion were not suspected, had undertaken 
 for their interest, did all they could by themselves, or through their 
 allies, to give the greatest possible pomp to the triumph of the procon- 
 sul. They succeeded so well that the people, surprised at the splendour 
 of the triumphal march, gave the road it went along the name of the 
 Domitian way. Part of the splendour of this march was owing to the 
 three triumphal arches of Orange, Carpentras, and Cavaillon. 
 
 The only objection the opponents of this theory can make to it 
 is, that the two consuls gained the battle at the Hermitage by the 
 help of the elephants, and that none of these animals are represented 
 on the triumphal arch. But to this it is replied, that the first battle 
 was gained by Domitian alone, without the help of the elephants; 
 that it was not till the following year that Fabius biought them into 
 Gaul with the two legions of reinforcements that accompanied him ; 
 and that in this second battle, Fabius had principally commanded, 
 and in consequence, Domitian, who had gained the one victory, left 
 his colleague the credit of the otliei-, which, however, from hatred 
 to him, he attributed solely to the assistance of the elephants, and 
 not to his courat'C and skill This answer is conclusive.
 
 130 
 
 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 The only reason alleged by tlie partizans of Marius in support of 
 their opinion, which is however the most populai', is that the word 
 Mario is written on one of the bucklers in the trophy of ai-ms on 
 the southern front ; but this name is found among seven or eight 
 others, and its only superiority over them consists in being more 
 legible and in better preservation. If the arch had been dedicated 
 to Marius, his name would probably have been the only one upon it, 
 and would liave been inscribed in one of the most conspicuous places, 
 and not in a corner; and, finally, among the standai'ds, which are 
 
 TMtxrniiL uicu at oh^nuIL 
 
 all surmounted b}' a quadruped, the eagle would have been found, 
 wliich Marius introduced as the only ensign of the legions in the 
 second year of liis consulate, according to J'liny, book x., chap. 4 ; 
 for when Marius defeated the Teutonic Cinibri, he was consul for the 
 fourth time. 
 
 It is much more natural to imagine that Marius, who, according 
 to Valerius Maximus, was made tribune of the jK'oplo 124 yciir.s 
 before Christ, fought under Domitian as military tribune the year 
 before, and tliat tlie servicer he rendered in this campaign procured
 
 ORANGE. 131 
 
 him that rank in the following year. His name, like those of the 
 other tribunes, would then be naturally found on the buckler, and 
 there would be no need to seek any further explanation of the in- 
 scription. By what singular chain of unknown circumstances could 
 they have been induced to build a triumphal arch in honour of Ma- 
 rins, twenty leagues from the spot in which his victory had been 
 gained ? This is still more improbable when we recollect that it was 
 on the field of battle itself that the soldiers of Marius erected a pyra- 
 mid, which was still erect in the fifteenth centmy, and on which the 
 conqueror was represented standing on a shield in the attitude of a 
 general proclaimed I/npcrator. The third theory, originated and 
 supported by Hetbert, abbé de St. Kuf, in a work called the " Flowers 
 of the Psalms," ascribes the arch to Caesar, conqueror of the Massa- 
 liotes, but it is sufficient to cast a glance at the eastern front to per- 
 ceive that the captives are in the costume of barbarians, whereas the 
 Massaliotes, at the time Ciiesar conquered them, were more civilized 
 than the Romans. 
 
 These different opinions, which are so trifling when examined in 
 Paris, become of importance when one inspects the object which has 
 given rise to them ; so, the next morning, day had hardly dawned 
 ■when, waking every one in the hotel, Jadin and myself had the door 
 opened, and hastened to the arch of triumph. Early as we were, we 
 found an amateur there before us : he was an old man, of from sixty 
 to sixty-five years of age, who examined the sides one after the other 
 with such attention that it was evident he attached great interest to 
 the solution of the stone problem before him. He saw that we were 
 artists, as we saw that he was an antiquary, so that the second or 
 third time we passed, each of us paused, and stood hat in hand 
 opposite the other. Jadin had already settled himself in the best 
 place, and was sketcliing the monument without caring as to the date. 
 
 " What do you think of this arch ?" said the old man. 
 
 " It is a splendid monument," I replied. 
 
 " Certainly ; but that is not exactly what I meant. I want to know 
 what age you think it dates from?" 
 
 " That is a dificrent question, and I know too little of the subject 
 to give my opinion, I am studying antiquity for the first time, but 
 can see at once that I have met with a masterpiece." 
 
 " You will see nothing finer or better preserved in Italy even, but 
 their date at least is known. Inscriptions have preserved, and tradition 
 has transmitted them ; but here there is nothing. The bronze inscrip- 
 tion was taken from it when Raymond de Baux made it into a for- 
 tress. The popular tradition, which inscribes it to Marius, is absurd, 
 so that we must remain in ignorance or doubt." 
 
 J 2
 
 138 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " A tcn-iblc alternative for an antiquary, for, I make no doubt, 
 sir, that you study archiBology." 
 
 " You are quite right, sir : I have been living for forty years among 
 ruins, trying to fix the date of each, and reconstructing, like Cuvicr, 
 the whole from a fragment. "Well, this arch is the only one upon 
 which I can say nothing positive ; and yet, as you see, it is almost un- 
 injured. But I "will not be baffled ; I have taken the little house 
 which you see opposite, and have been living there now two years. 
 I shall remain ten, if it be necessary ; and I will collect so much evi- 
 dence that I shall at last discover the secret." 
 
 ♦' Though you have obtained no proof, you have probably some 
 theory." 
 
 " I think it goes back to the time of Octavius, and was built by 
 the cohort tliat garrisoned Orange." 
 
 " That is a fourth account." 
 
 " And why not ?" 
 
 " Certainly you are at full liberty ; tlicre arc ninety-one different 
 places at which Hannibal crossed the Rhone . . . And from what 
 do you form your opinion ?" 
 
 " Look !"' said the archteologist, leading me to the eastern front ; 
 "here is a Phœbus crownicd with rays, and everyone knows that 
 Octavius was particularly proud of tliis emblem, which compiu'ed him 
 to the god of day." 
 
 *' To this I may reply, that it is more natural to think they sculp- 
 tured the face of the sun on the side opposite the i)lace where it rose, 
 in order that the first looks of the god might fall upon his likeness. 
 But no matter ; let us i)roceed." 
 
 " Well, let us turn to the northern side, aiid you will sec among 
 the trophies attributes of Marius, which show that the founders of 
 the arch meant to pay homage to the victory' of Actium." 
 
 " They arc here certainly ; but how do you account for the absence 
 of the eagles, which ought not only to be found in the army of Octa- 
 vius, but also in that of Antony ?" 
 
 " Exactly," cried the arcira'ologist. "As it would have been neces- 
 sary to i)ut tiic lloman eagles as well as the victorious ones, the sculp- 
 tor escjijicd from his cinbanaKsnuiit by jiutting neither." 
 
 " Tliat is v( ry ingenious, and certainly a clever idea." 
 
 "Look at the stylobute on the same side; it represents a battle. 
 Go round; the stylobate of tlio Houthern front represents another." 
 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " TIksc arc the two great victories Octavius gained in (!antabria 
 and Illyria." 
 
 " Wiiit a moment as far iw I can recollect. I'lorus says some-
 
 0RA:!IGE. 133 
 
 where that the emperor fought on foot at the head of the legions, and 
 was -wounded in the battle. This act was too honourable to Octavius, 
 whose courage was disputed, for flattery to forget it on a monument 
 destined to perpetuate the memory of his reign ; besides, on both 
 sides the stylobate shows us cavalry in each army." 
 
 " Yes," said the archaeologist, rather put out, " I knew that, but 
 I did not think you did : that is the only thing which prevents my 
 opinion from triumphing over the others." 
 
 "Tell me," continued I, "has not Mérimée, the inspector of the 
 monuments of France, been here ?" 
 " Yes, he has." 
 
 " Well, what did he say ? He is an excellent man to consult on 
 such subjects. He has talent, imagination, and knowledge — a trio 
 Avhich opens every door." 
 
 " Ho thinks it belongs to the second centuiy, and was erected in 
 memory of the conquests of Marcus Aurelius over the Germans." 
 " That is a fifth plan." 
 " Yes ; but it cannot be supported." 
 
 "Why not? The battles apply bpcter to Marcus Aurelius than 
 
 to Octavius, as no history tells us that Marcus Aurelius fought on 
 
 foot : the maritime trophies are in honour of the battles upon the 
 
 Danube, and the chained bai-bariaus are Germans instead of Gauls." 
 
 " So you adopt that theory ?" 
 
 " Not I, indeed ! I adopt and revere all five. I shall give them 
 faithfully, and leave the responsibility of deciding between them to 
 some one more clever than myself." 
 
 With these wox-ds I bowed to the antiquary, and as Jadin had 
 finished his drawing, we took our way towards the theatre. 
 
 Whatever period this monument dates from, it is in admirable 
 preservation, and this preservation is owing to a singular fact, of 
 which we have already spoken in our antiquarian discussion about 
 the thirteenth century. A Prince of Orange, named Raymond de 
 Baux, whose castle was built upon a mountain, and overlooked the 
 town, made a fortress of the triumphal arch. Availed it round, and 
 fixed his dwelling in the interior of the edifice. This strange enclo- 
 sure was not made, we must acknowledge, to favour the devotion of an 
 antiquary. Tliis great seigneur effaced the sculpturev' from the eastern 
 entrance, which he converted into a dining-room ; and in the interior 
 and round the building ate still to be seen marks of the woodwork 
 and staircases which he erected. Lapise, in his History of the Princes 
 and Principality of Orange, has an engraving of the triumphal arch 
 surmounted by an enormous stone tower, and suiTounded by the 
 roined walls of a feudal fortress, which, though built twelve honored
 
 131 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 years later, liad fallen from ruin and decay round tLo ancient monu- 
 ment, which is still standing firmly. 
 
 On returning to tlie town we met M. Xogent, who, having heard 
 at the hotel that we had risen witli the sun, had gone in search of us. 
 
 He came with a kindness which we Parisiims who lead such irre- 
 gulai- lives, never tliink of, to put his time at our disposal. We ac- 
 cepted his oflcr eagerly ; but before taking another step towards the 
 town, I asked who the antiquary was that I had been talking with. 
 He replied, M. Artaud. At the name of this celebrated ai-chœologist 
 I remembered with remorse the trifling tone I had adopted : I innne- 
 diately retm-ncd to apologize, and to say that I decidedly belonged 
 to the supporters of Augustus. 
 
 M. Nogent took us first to the theatre, and coming out of a narrow 
 crooked street, we found om-selvcs at once opposite iliis monument. 
 It would be difficult not to pause with astonishment before suih a 
 spectacle. The farade, wliich is perfect, is a liundred and seven feet 
 in height, and three hundred and sixteen in length. It is very sim- 
 ply ornamented ; on the basement floor there is a large square door, 
 supported by Corintliian columns, with nine pointed arches on each 
 side, separated by Doric pilasters. 
 
 The second row is composed of twenty-one external arches, in the 
 centre of each of which is a circular opening, destined to give light 
 to the inner corridor. 
 
 Iktween the first and second row a jjarajict extends, and is in- 
 tended to support a portico, like that which some of our theatres, the 
 Opera for example, have built for the accommodation of spectators 
 who wish to leave their carriages in l)ad weather witlu)ut getting 
 wet. There has been much dispute about tliis portico, wliich is sup- 
 ported on each side by walls. Some have thought it intended for a 
 forum, and cite Strabo to prove that tJie theatre of Vyse had two 
 fronts, one of wliicli was used for the games, and the other for the 
 assembly of tlie senate. AVe do not deny this assertion, but we 
 put ours in opposition, and it has the merit of simplicity in its 
 favour. 
 
 "We entered tlie interior of tlu' theatre. 
 
 AVJiat, tlun, were tlu'se lionian jjcojile wlio subdued nature, not 
 only for their wants but for thi ir ])leasures? A mountain stood wliero 
 tliey thought a theatre ouglil to l>e; they built the fai.ade at the foot 
 of the mountain, and, lioUowing it out, cut sloping benches in its im- 
 mensity tor ten iliousand spectators. I luive since seen tlie Iheiilrcs 
 of Italy and the iiiagniticent ones of Oreecc ; those of Verona, Taor- 
 mine, Syracuse, and S»''gcst; but not one is in such preservation as tho 
 theatre of Orange, with the excejition, indeed, of (hose of Pompeii,
 
 ORANGE. 13.-, 
 
 preserved by their own disaster, and which the spectators seem to 
 have just quitted. 
 
 M. Nogcnt was our cicerone over this deserted stage and ompty 
 pit, and when wc had examined them in detail we went up over the 
 benches, the last of which led us to the summit of the mountain, on 
 wliich arc still to be seen the ruined foundations of the palace of 
 those princes who afterwards became kings of England and of Hol- 
 land. 
 
 The whole town is visible from thi's spot, and above it arc seen, 
 like the bones of an immense half-buried skeleton, not only the ancient 
 ruins we have described, but those of a circus and amphitheatre. 
 
 The only traces left of the feudal ages is a stone watch-tower, 
 built on the highest point of the façade of a theatre: popular tradition 
 attributes it to the time of the Saracens. The moderns also have 
 their monument, in the shape of an expiatoiy chapel, built on the spot 
 where the scaffold of '93 stood. 
 
 We had taken a long look into the past ; beginning with Tiberius 
 Nero, glancing at Abderahman and Charles Martel, and ending wiili 
 Robespierre. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast we took leave of -M. Nogcnt, who 
 accompanied us to the gates of the town, and left Orange thinking 
 of the old Roman world, the dust of which we were raising at every 
 step. Half a league from the town avo left our cabriolet, ordering 
 it to wait for us at the next post, and turning to the left crossed over 
 towards the Rhone, on the banks of which we were seeking nothing 
 less than the place of the celebrated passage of Hannibal.
 
 CHAPTEIl XIV. 
 
 ROQUEMAl'UE. 
 
 We were obout to tukc another step into antiquity. It is h'ue wo 
 were seeking no visible ruins, but an histovical reminiscence, of 
 which nothing remained except the places which recalled it; but this 
 reminiscence is of such importance to the history of the world, that 
 it has been preserved without a pyramid, and has gone on increasing 
 from age to age in the memory of mankind. Carthage and Homo 
 were not only towns but nations, not only two nations but two civili- 
 zations, which struggled, perhaps without knowing it, not only for 
 the empire of the present but for that of tlie future. The question had 
 at last arisen whether the world should be lloman or Carthaginian, 
 European or African ; Carthage, with its merchants and sailors, Komc, 
 with its soldiers and labourers, extending from east to west along 
 the shores of the Mediteiranean — the one from the altars of the Philc- 
 nicn»; who stretched along Syrte to the Ebro, where Sarragossa 
 stood; the other, fron\ lUyria, where Emilius had just taken Diniald. 
 to Cisalpine Gaul, where Lucius Manlius had est^iblishcd the colonies 
 of Placentia and Cremona, after having met in Sicily and Sardinia, 
 and having struggled till Carthage bending its knee, liad signed tlu' 
 treaties of Luctatius and Asdrubal, ftlt that one could not enjoy air 
 and sunshine while tlie other existed, and that this war, in which 
 each nation fought not only for altars and iiearths, but for existence^ 
 could only terminate in the destruction of Konie by Carthage, or Car- 
 thage by Home. 
 
 While such events pass, eotemporary nations neither sec whence 
 they come nor whither they go. Tliey inquire of jjctty human inter- 
 08t« the causes which j)ro(lu(e them, and of visible things the eircum- 
 Htancc s that led to tlu-m ; but rarely do tliey raise their eyes from the 
 ground to seek the hand which lioids tlu- reins of the world, or the 
 foot whose Hjmr drivcH tiie universe tlirough s])ace. l-'very tiling is in- 
 viHihle to them in tlic ])rcsent, because tlie age to which they belong 
 Vi not yet accomplished. 
 
 PoHtcrity, on the other h.md, liliiid in its (urn to its own epoch, 
 oncends the hei(;]it.s of history and sees the jxist clearly ; beholds tho 
 towti>« Cut] r;i\(iiii<il in lii- 111. cor dcsl rii\ cd in his iin|^''ir; I'.c.'irs the
 
 • KOQUEMAUKE. 1.17 
 
 lyre that built Thebes, and the trumpet sound at which Jericho fell ; 
 beholds the angel who came to predict to Abraham that his posterity 
 should be as numerous as the sands of the sea and the stars of heaven, 
 and the cloud hovering over Sodom and Gomorrah, wliich brought with 
 it the extermination of the two nations. Everything, then, becomes 
 clear and precise: understanding that God employs human means 
 alone in the providential direction given to the world, posterity sees 
 ministers of heaven in those whom their cotemporaries took for chil- 
 dren of the earth, and who, ignorant themselves of their divine 
 mission, think they walk in the light of the sun with full strength 
 and liberty, while, on the contrary, they pass through life as Moses did 
 through the desert, following constantly the column of fire. 
 
 One only of these chosen ones was aware of what he had to do in 
 the world, but that one was the Son of God ! 
 
 These men leave nothing behind them but their memoiy ; their 
 uninspired heirs think they can continue the w^ork begun, but the 
 work docs not progress, for it has been completed. People are aston- 
 ished that a great light should have been suddenly extinguished, and 
 expect every instant to see it reappear ; but they are mistaken, it Avas 
 a meteor, not a sun. Look at Sesostris, look at Alexander, at Caesar, 
 at Charlemagne, and at Napoleon. 
 
 Hannibal was one of those personifications of an idea : he was the 
 evil genius of Carthage, the angel of death to Africa. He received 
 his fatal mission ou the day when Hamilcar, offering a sacrifice to 
 Jupiter for his safe arrival in Spain, took the hand of his son, led hira 
 to the altar, and made him swear upon the victims that he would bo 
 tie eternal enemy of liome. From that day hatred made the child a 
 man ; this hatred increased on the deaths of Hamilcar and Asdrubal ; 
 and when fifteen years afterwards, he succeeded his father and brother- 
 in-law in the command of the troops in Spain, the first act of the 
 young general was to burn Saragossa, as a pretext for quarrelling 
 with Rome. 
 
 Rome sent ambassadors to Carthage. They came to demand the 
 sun-ender of Hannibal ; the senate refused. Then the oldest among 
 them, advancing, took his mantle by the hem, and offering it to the 
 senators : " I bring," said he, " peace or war ; which of the two shall 
 I leave with you?" "Whichever you please," was the disdainful 
 reply. The ambassador di-opped his cloak, and left them war. 
 
 All was prepared for the final struggle. The Romans assembled 
 two armies, one of which they sent to Spain, under the orders cf 
 Publius Cornelius, and the other to Africa, under those of Tiberius 
 Sempronius. Hannibal also divided his forces, and left his brother 
 Asdi-ubal fifty-five vessels, two thousand five hundi-ed and fifty horse-
 
 138 TUE SOUTH OF FR.IN'CE. ^ 
 
 men, composed of Lybians, Phenicians, Africans, Xumidians, Mashil- 
 lians, and Mauiitanians, aud an infantry of eleven thousand eight 
 hundred and fifty Africans, five Imndred Ballarians, and tlu-ce hun- 
 dred Ligurians ; and puttinj^ himself at the head of eighty-two 
 thousand foot, aud twelve thousand horse, passed the Ebro, conquered 
 the Ibergetes, Bargusiaus, Erenesians, and Andocians, left a garrison 
 in theii- territories, crossed the Pyrenees, descended into Gaul, tra- 
 versed Nisraes, and ai'rivcd on the borders of the Rhone. 
 
 The Rhone was then, as it still is, a broad and rapid stream. 
 Petrarch tells us its modern name is derived from the old word 
 Rhodar, which expresses the impetuosity of its course. Tiberius calls 
 it Celer* Ausonius, Frccceps,^ and Florus, Impiger;\ finally, St. 
 Jerome calls St. Hilarius, whose seductive language nothing could 
 resist, the Rhone of Latin eloquence. This river and the Alps were 
 the two great obstructions to Hannibal's course ; and he only looked 
 upon the Pioman ai-mies as the third and least dangerous. 
 
 lie marched along tlic river for some time without finding a favoui'- 
 able place ; and, according to the Arcadian Polybius, that great master 
 of tlie art of war, who learnt it from Philopœmen to teach it to the 
 Scythians, and who,])orn scarcely fourteen years after this event, speaks 
 with certainty, as he says, of all these things, because he heard them 
 related by eye-witnesses, and had been in person to the Alps to ac- 
 quire a more exact knowledge of them, — if we can believe Polybius, 
 I say, it was at about fom- days' journey from the mouth of the Rhone 
 that the Carthaginian general stopped (a little above Roquomaure, 
 in the opinion of Mandagors, Danville, and Fortia), and visited the 
 little town of Aria, which became in the middle ages the stronghold 
 of Lers, and in our own days is simply a grange, bearing that name. 
 In order to cross the Rlione at tliis place, where it was no broader 
 than its own bed, his first care was to contract the friendship of those 
 who lived on its banks. He bought from these barbarian sailors, who 
 had all the inland commerce in their hands, as many boats and canoes 
 as they would sell him ; and purchasing whole forests, which they 
 wotild have asked notliing for, considering them as tho gifts of hea- 
 ven, which God gave to all alike, he constructed in two days an 
 extraordinary quantity of large and small rafts, each soldier trying 
 to find some way of passing the river for liimself. 
 
 Meanwhile, tlie allies of the Marseillais, who were the allies of 
 the Romans, assembled on the opposite shore, and prepared to dispute 
 the passage. Hannibal saw signs of intelligence pass from tiic one 
 
 • " Tcdti» Arnr, lth< ilnntinqtiP rrlcr, ma(?T>i»<TiP Giiriimnn."— Tiiu'i,. lib. i. 
 
 t " Q'ii\ rnpittir pnrrrpn KhmlnniiK Ri-nilorp Lrmnno." — AimoNitis. 
 
 • " linpi(fcr<iuc Uliodanu»."- Ki.oii. lib. iil. C!ip. 2.
 
 ROQUEMAUE.E. 139 
 
 shore to the other, and perceived that he could r.ot remain witliout 
 a multitude accumulating; lioth in front and in the rear, by ■\vhicli ho 
 would at last be surrounded as v>ith a band of iron. The beginning 
 of the third night he called Ilanno, the son of Bomilcar, and giving 
 him for guides some Gauls on whom he could rely, ordered him to 
 ascend the river with the Numidian cavalry, till he found a passage 
 which was easier for this chief than for himself, on account of the 
 heavy cavalry and the elephants. Hanno did not look long. Reach- 
 ing a place where an island, by separating the llhonc into two 
 branches, diminished its width, he threw himself into the stream, and 
 these children of the desert, accustomed to cross the stony torrents 
 of Atlas and the seas of sand in Mauritania, followed liim on their 
 unbridled horses, reached the island, and crossing it, took to the 
 water again, and arriving on the opposite shore, possessed themselves 
 without impediment, of an advantageous post, and remained hidden 
 there all day, accordmg to the orders Hannibal had given. 
 
 The next morning, at daybreak, Hannibal had arranged every 
 thing for his passage. The heavy armed soldiers went in the large 
 boats, and the light infantry in the small. The largest took the lead, 
 and the smaller ones followed, so that the first, breaking the violence 
 of the water by their bulk, the latter would feel it less. Fearing the 
 Numidians might fail him at the period of disembarkation, and wish- 
 ing to have cavalry ready on his arrival on the other side, Hannibal 
 ordered that three or four horses should be made to swim behind each 
 boat, an attendant holding their bridles, while their masters, who 
 crossed in the same boat, encouraged them by their voices, and re- 
 mained armed and ready to spring into their saddles, as soon as they 
 reached land. The foremost vessels had ah-cady crossed a third part 
 of the river, when the Gauls left their entrenchments, and hurried in 
 confusion to oppose their landing. The Carthaginians hesitated in as- 
 tonishment, but Hannibal gave orders to continue the passage, advising 
 those who were in the large boats to bear up against the stream. 
 
 At the same moment a column of smoke appeared in the cast. 
 Hannibal clapped his hands joyl\illy; and just as the two armies were 
 within bow-shot of each other, Hanno appeared with the cavalry. 
 Rapid and destructive as the Simoon, he was on the Gauls before 
 they had had time to perceive them, and passing among them like a 
 whirlwind, set fire to their camp. The unexpected sight of these 
 bronze-faced centaurs, the noise of the soldiers who had begun to 
 land, the cries of those who were still crossing the river, the plaudits 
 of the rear-guard, which had not (quitted the other shore, even the 
 disorder of the boats, some of which, breaking the line, went rapidly 
 down the stream, spread alarm among the Gauls. They knew not
 
 140 THE SOUTH OF FRANCK. 
 
 whether to fly to the succour of their camp or to continue to obstruct 
 the landing. During this moment of doubt, more vessels reached tlic 
 shore, the infantry formed in ranks, the cavalry sprang upon their 
 horses, and the Nuimdians turned and came back. Enclosed in their 
 turn between two armies, the barbarians threw away their weapons, 
 and took to flight. To deprive them of any wish to rctui-n to the 
 charge, Hannibal sent Hanno after them with his intelligent horses, 
 which, though having no bi-idles, and being only du-ected by the knee 
 and the voice, fought like men, biting and ti-arapliiig all they met ; 
 while with the van- guard, which was out of danger, he protected the 
 passage of the main army, which formed on the shore, so that none 
 remaineC behind but the rear-guard and the elephants. 
 
 He had great difficulty in getting these animals across. As long 
 as they were on land these terrible auxiliaries of the CiU'thaginian 
 army had passively obeyed their conductors ; but iunnediately on seeing 
 the stream they became restless, raising their trunks in the air, and 
 showing marks of fear, wliich made them terrible with rage. Han- 
 nibal thought of a novel plan. He fastened two nifts, each a bundled 
 feet long, by cords and chains to the shore of the Rhone ; two still 
 larger ones were fastened to these rafts in such a manner, that they 
 could be broken at a given signal. Chains wei*e also attached to then^ 
 which coiTcsponi led with boats placed at fifty paces from the opposite 
 shore. This floating bridge was covered with tiuf, lilce that on the 
 coast, so that the elephants did not perceive they were (putting the 
 land, on wliich, instinct told them, they could tread witliout danger. 
 When cvei'vthiiig was leady, tlic female elephai\ts were placed in 
 front, and the males followed without hesitation to the outside rafts. 
 At a given signal, tlie cables which fastened these moveable ones to 
 those wliich were fixed, wore cut, and the boats immediately putting 
 out all their oars, rowed ott", and carried the elepliants with them- 
 A moment of terrible anguish followed it, as the first movement of 
 the boatH separated this living mass from the turf covered part wliicli 
 had deceived them. The elephants, finding the ground move under 
 (heir feet, and becoming uneasy and alarmed, set up loud roars, and 
 all rushing to the same side, almost overturned the raft, and five or 
 six fell into the river. Helieving nil was lost, the entire army uttered 
 a cry of (lislress; but at the same instant the boat lightened i)f its 
 weight, rectivered its balance, and the submerged Heiihants reap- 
 jiearcd, raising their trunks above (he water, and swinmiing power- 
 fully towards (lie shore. Ten minules afterwards, tlie rafts and 
 tleplinntH reached the other bank amidst tlie aj)]»laust' nf tlie vvholo 
 army. 
 
 And DOW let us leave Haniiilial to advance towards Iih- east, as if
 
 ROQUEMAURE. 141 
 
 he meant to enter into the centre of Europe, and cross flic Alps at 
 Brianoon with the same good fortune, or rather Avith the same genius, 
 which had enabled him to pass the Rhone at lloquemaure. We shall 
 meet him again at Thi-asymene and Capua. Ilistoiy is a great and 
 terrible thing, for it is always more subUmc than imagination ; audits 
 associations will fix poetry for ever in the realms of antiquity Nothing 
 attracts us in natioTis or countries which have no past ; for which 
 reason Italy, Greece, Asia, and Egypt, ruined, decayed, weakened, 
 exhausted as they are, please more than the New "World, cro'wned 
 with its virgin forests, immense rivers, and moimtains of gold and 
 diamonds. 
 
 After having vàsited the famous passage of Hannibal on the banks 
 of the Ehone, we regained the road to Avignon, our Polybius still in 
 our hands, as we tm'ned twenty times to look back, for Ave could hardly 
 leave the shore on which we seemed every moment to behold Hanno 
 and his Numidians, Hannibal and his elephants. But oui' return was 
 hastened by the first gusts of wind so dreaded in the south, Avhich 
 Strabo calls the Black Boreas, and moderns the Mistral. It was 
 evident, by the Aray it began to hiss round us, making the trees bend 
 Ulie ears of corn, that we AA'ere going to become acquainted Avith one 
 of the three old scom-gcs of Provence : the tAvo others Avere the du- 
 rance and the parliament.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THK COUD-NATUlli;U GENDARMES. 
 
 We came out ui)on the road again at a little village called Chateau 
 Neuf, and found our cabriolet waiting tliere for us. Our excursion 
 bad occupied more tlian half the day, and harnessing the horse kept 
 us some lime longer; so that wo could not continue our journey until 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, and we had still six leagues to go. 
 
 Towards night the mistral began to blow with frightful violence. 
 I had no idea of u land tempest, and indeed did not think such a thing 
 could be. I had indeed lead in Strabo that the mvldiiihorctts (such is 
 the name he gives this wind) blew stones about like dust, carried the 
 sheep out of the fields as easily as an eagle would do, and throwing 
 the lloman soldiers fiom their liorses, took awaj' their cloaks and hel- 
 mets; but I had accounted for these things by the exaggerations of 
 the ancients, and the poetical style of Ilonur and Herodotus, which 
 we discover every day to be mon' and mon- true. I wan obliged to 
 acknowledge that the master of these countries, for the name it bears 
 is derived from VKimfro, liad lost nothing of its power by age. One 
 strange thing about it is, that it does not blow eonslantly fnmi the 
 name point of the compass, but changes its direction, doubtless to 
 follow the sinuosities of the mountains through which it winds, so
 
 THE GOOD-NATURED CENDAKMES. 143 
 
 that -SVC had it sometimes behind our cariiagc, which v/as then diiven 
 forward, as if by the arm of a giant ; sometimes in front, wlicn it 
 stopped oui- progress, in spite of the efforts of our horse ; sometimes 
 at the side, and then it threatened to overtm-n our equipage, as it 
 would have done a boat. We were in a state of astonishment border- 
 ing on stupefaction, which was shared by om- postiUion, who, never 
 having been fui'thcr than Avignon, had no idea of these tempests, 
 which die away at Orange, and never reach Valence, where we had 
 taken him up. Our situation was the more disagreeable, as the icy 
 breath of the mistral has a sharp cliillincss, unkno\^^l to the inhabi- 
 tants of the north of France, and which, instead of penetrating 
 through the skm, seizes on the man-ow of the bones, and paralyzes 
 one. After having proceeded some time in the dark, we thouglit of 
 stopping at an inn by the road-side ; but being told that an hom-'s 
 l^atience woidd enable us to reach Avignon, contmucd our jom-ney. 
 
 In about an hour we perceived, indeed, a dark compact mass, but 
 on approaching it our postillion declared that it could not be the toAvn, 
 and it was so dark that the road leading to it was not visible. He 
 had not much trouble in converting us to his opinion, for, half frozen, 
 by the cold, we were neither able nor willing to argue the point with 
 him; he therefore continued his road in triumph, and the mistral in- 
 tercepted for a moment by the black mass we had passed, began to 
 rage again. We continued for another liour, with an increasing chill, 
 which, like the rheumatism, seized on our joints ; oui* knees particu- 
 larly were so painful as almost to make us scream. An hour more 
 passed, the mistral continued, and we saw nothing more of Avignon. 
 Our guide began to think he might have been mistaken, and owned 
 the dark mass we had passed was most likely Avignon. At least, 
 as it was decidedly a town of some sort, we ordered him to return ; 
 but then he said if it was Avignon we sliould not be able to get in, 
 as the time of closing the gates must be long passed. This was dis- 
 agreeable news, for at the rate at which our numbness was progress- 
 ing, we should most likely never awake the next day, if v."e passed 
 the remainder of the night in the open air. AVe had continued to 
 proceed during the discussion, when suddenly the motion of our 
 cabriolet ceased, and at the same time a voice commanded us to stop. 
 We thought for a moment it must be robbers, but Jadin and myself 
 were so helpless that we had not even strength to take our guns, 
 which were behind us. 
 
 "What is the matter?" said the conductor. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" said the voice. 
 
 " To Avignon." 
 
 " You mean to Marseilles."
 
 141 rilE SOUTH OF FR^VXCE. 
 
 " No, indeed," said 1, " we arc certainly going to Avignon." 
 
 " You are leaving it behind, and to reach it would take you two 
 hours." 
 
 I was seized with a violent wish to tlirash the postillion, when I 
 heard not only that we might have been two hours in our bed, but 
 thafit would be two hours more before we could get thei'e. 
 
 " Now, who are you ?" continued another voice. 
 
 " And who are you youi-sclvcs?" said Jadin. 
 
 " "VVe are gendarmes of the brigade of Avignon." 
 
 " And we are travellers who, as you see, have mistaken our way." 
 
 " Have you your passports ?" 
 
 " Of coui'se." 
 
 •' Show them." 
 
 Jadin was feeling in his pocket, but I stopped his hand. 
 
 " Do not do anything of the sort," said I in a whisper. 
 
 " Why so ?" answered he, in the same tone. 
 
 " Because the gendarmes w ill leave us and our passports on the 
 road, and we may knock all night at the gates of the town, they will 
 not open them ; whilst without jjassports we shall be stopped, taken 
 to Avignon, make our triumphal entry with the gendarmerie, and 
 once in the town we can show our papers, and tliank tlicsc gentle- 
 men for their kindness." 
 
 •' A capital plan," said Jadin. 
 
 " Come, these passports," continued the gendarme, who hearing us 
 whisper, thought we were consulting on a plan to bailie his watch- 
 fulness. 
 
 " Wliai would be the use of giving them," resumed I, "unless you 
 have cat's eyes to read them with?" 
 
 The gendarmes consulted in their turn ; it appeared that they 
 agreed about it, for the same voice continued — 
 
 "You are right, sir; but with your permission we will take you 
 to a place where it will be light cnouL,'h." 
 
 '* And where in that?" 
 
 " Avignon." 
 
 "The gates arc shut at this time." 
 
 " Against travellers, but not against iirismierB." 
 
 '' Con>e, turn round, my man," suid he to the postillion'; " and set 
 off again (piickly, for it is not too waiin here," and taking our horse 
 by the bit, he made liim turn round; lie and his companion posted 
 themselvcH one on each side of our enrria},'e, and we retraced our way 
 on the road we had so UKelessly travilled. 
 
 " I iul," (lied I, fearing we minlif be n leased, " yoii are abusing 
 your j)o\ver shamefully, and 1 shali complain on my arrival ut Avig- 
 non."
 
 Tnic gooi)-natvii::d gendarmes no 
 
 " You are at liberty to do so." 
 
 " Aiul wlien shall wc reach Avigucn ?' 
 
 '•In an hour, I hope." 
 
 " Come, postillion, gallop off, or I shall urge your horse on uith 
 the point of my sabi'e. Start !" continued the gendarme, following 
 up his threat, and our carriage whirled through the air. 
 
 Excellent gendarme ! I should have asked permission to embrace 
 him, had I been sui'e he would have refused it. 
 
 His words were as true as the gospel ; in about an hour we saw 
 the dark mass again, which we had been two hours getting away 
 from. Our escort passed through an avenue of trees, the branches 
 of which so shaded the road, that we had gone by without seeing it, 
 and some minutes afterwards, as midnight was striking, we knocked 
 at the gates of Avignon. The gate-keeper rose, grumbling, and ask- 
 ing who knocked at that time ? The gendarmes made themselves 
 known, and immediately the hinges turned to give access to the police 
 and the vagabonds tlicy brought with them ; then we heard the gate- 
 keeper close the portals behind us, turn the key, and push forward 
 the bolts. "We breathed freely, for once in the town they were 
 almost certain not to put us out again. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," said the excellent gendarme, dismounting 
 and approaching the carriage ; " I hope you will make no fresh diffi- 
 culty about showing me your passports." 
 
 " Of course not," answered I, offering my own and that of Jadin. 
 " You will sec that they are quite correct." 
 
 The gendarme took them, went into the porter's lodge, and seeing 
 there was no fault to be found, returned them. 
 
 "Here they are, gentlemen," said he, "and a thousand pardons 
 for having brought you back in this way." 
 
 "A thousand pardons! — A thousand thanks, my good fellow; 
 without you we should have slept in the fields, and now wesliall slecj) 
 at the Palais lloyal, if you will only have the kindness to show it to us." 
 
 " We are going that way, gentlemen, and if you would like us to 
 escort you further, we will set you down at M. Moulin's own door.'' 
 
 "AVillingly, provided you will accept ten francs to di-ink our 
 healths." 
 
 " "We are forbidden to take anything beyond the government pay, 
 so if you have anything to give, let it be to this honest fellow we 
 have disturbed." 
 
 I was astonished at their disinterestedness, and Jadin, who is of 
 the sceptical school, pointed out that the porter was at the same time 
 a wine merchant, wliich made him think that the ten francs would 
 not change theii- object by changing hands. I warn my readers, once 
 
 K
 
 IV, 
 
 TUE SOÎ.Tn OF FRANCE. 
 
 for ail, that Jadin is an inhdcl, who believes in nothing, not even tlio 
 virtue of gendarmes. 
 
 However that may be, ours faithfully performed their promises, 
 aiul left us at the gate of the hotel of the Palais lioyal. It was thus 
 we made our entrance into Avignon ; " a town," says Francis Xougier, 
 "noble from its antiquity, agreeable from its site, superb from its 
 woUs, pleasing from the fertility of its soil, charming fi-om the gen- 
 tleness of its inhabitants, magniticent from its palace, beautiful trom 
 its wide sti-eets, marvellous from the structure of its bridge, rich from 
 its commerce, and known to the whole world."' 

 
 THE PALACE 0? THE TOl'ES, AVIRNON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 EOOM NUMBER THREE. 
 
 ÎCOTWITIISTA.NDING tlic latc hoiu' at which we arrived, tnanks fo the 
 actiAity of oiu- host, Ave soon had a splendid fire, and a comfortable 
 supper. When Ave had been Avarmed by the one, and refreshed by 
 the other, he called a Avaitcr to prepare the bedrooms, and ordered 
 number one for me. 
 
 "Will it be the same to you," said I, ''if I have number tlu-ec?" 
 
 "The one I intend for you is better, and looks into the street," 
 replied lie. 
 
 " Never mind, it is number three I Avant." 
 
 " AVe seldom use tliat, unless the others arc occupied ! " 
 
 " But Avhen you are are asked for it ? " 
 
 " It is never asked for Avithout a reason, and unless you have 
 one " 
 
 "I am the godson of Marshal Bruno." 
 
 "Then I can understand you," said the host ; " shoAv the gentleman 
 to mnnbcr three." 
 
 I had long promised myself the funeral pilgrimage Avhich I had 
 noAV accomplished. Marsluil Brune Avas one of the fcAV friends Avho 
 had remained faithful to mv father, Avhcn, after having taken the side 
 
 k2
 
 118 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 of Klcbcr, he fell into disgrace with Napoleon in Egypt ; and after 
 the death of the exile, ho was the only one -who had ventured, very 
 uselessly, however, to ask the Emperor for my admission into a mili- 
 tary college, and up to ISH had given my mother and myself barren 
 but toucliing proofs of his regard. In the confusion of the double 
 restoration we had lost sight of liim, and did not know where he was, 
 when suddenly a cry resounded tlirough France, that Marshal Brunc 
 had been assassinated ! 
 
 Child as I was, being but eleven ycai's old, the news made a deep 
 impression on me. I had so often heard my mother say, that my 
 only hope for tlic future Avas in the mai-shal, and that it was like 
 losing my father a second time. The more the seal of misfortime is 
 impressed on a young heart, tlie deeper is the impi-ession it makes. 
 From this event dates the hatred Avhich more, fi-om instinct than con- 
 viction, I felt for the restoration, and the first seed of opinions, which 
 may perhaps have been moditied as my mind became enlarged, but 
 Avhich will probably always form the basis of my political faith. It 
 Avill therefore be understood with what emotion I opened the door of 
 this room, in which he who had sworn beforc God to bo my second 
 father, and who, as far as it was in his power, had kept his word, 
 breathed his last. 
 
 I fancied tluit this room would have preserved something of the 
 fatal blood-stains. I looked quickly round, and was astonished to 
 sec it as neat and pleasing as any other room : a good lire was burn- 
 ing in the chimney opposite the door, white curtains shaded the 
 windows, tliiough which the assassins passed, and a blue ])aper dis- 
 played its gay colours; two beds exactly alike seemed to invite sleep; 
 in fact, it was like any other room, but between the chimney and the 
 bed, about three feet and a half up the wall, was a round hole an 
 incli deep, it had been made by a bullet, and was the only trace that 
 remained of tlic murdir. 
 
 1 knew tliat this liole existed, and directed by the situation of the 
 door, went straight to it, and found it in a moment. It would be im- 
 ])ossiblc to express tlie effect produced upon me by tliis vestige of 
 death. It was there tliat flie warm and recking bullet exhausted 
 it.self, after passing througli the bosom to wliicli I recollected tlie 
 conqueror of Alkniaert, llurgen, and Strulsund having so often claKjjed 
 mc. This rieoMection was so present to my mind, and so real, that I 
 seemed still to feel the arms of the marshal pressing me to him. 
 Hardly breathing, my eye» fixed upon this hole, and tlic entire world 
 forgotten in a single idea, I passed one of thoac moments of sadness 
 which huniuii language cannot describe ; then I sank into a cliair, 
 surprised al (inding mysilf at last in this room, wliidi I had so often
 
 ROOM NUMBER THREE. 119 
 
 wished to SCO, aiid examining -with vague anxiety each piece of the 
 im-nitiire -whicli had witnessed so terrible a catastrophe. 
 
 Part of the night passed this way, and in spite of my fatigue, it was 
 near three before I coukl attempt to sleep ; but hardly was my light 
 extinguished than I reflected I was perhaps stretched upon the bed 
 upon which they had laid the corpse. This idea made my haii- stand 
 on end, and the perspii-ation rolled down my forehead, my heart 
 palpitated so violently that I could hear its beating ; I closed my 
 eyes, but could not sleep. All the details of the bloody scene passed 
 before mc. The room appeared full of phantoms and noises. I do 
 not know hoAv long I remained in this state, but at length all these 
 funereal images became confused, and ceased to have distinct foi-ms, 
 the noise and the groans died away, and I fell into a death-like 
 sleep. 
 
 When I awoke it was broad day. I was exhausted and bathed 
 in perspiration. It was some time before I knew where I was, re- 
 membering my di'eadful dreams, but nothing more. I looked roimd 
 the room, trying to collect my ideas, which were still confused by 
 sleep, and my eye met the bullet-hole which had struck me so for- 
 cibly the night before; it was like di-awing a curtain before my 
 eyes, and recollection returned in a moment. I sprang out of bed, 
 dressed hastily, and went down stall's, for I longed to breathe another 
 atmosphere. 
 
 M. Xogont had given me several letters to Avignon. One of 
 
 them was addressed to M. K -, professor of history. It was one 
 
 of those hearty recommendations which are required on a jom'ney of 
 this sort, and I therefore did not wish to delay giving it ; and after 
 being directed to the street he lived in, set off for a walk tlirough 
 the town. 
 
 Avignon is sheltered from both wind and sun ; its streets ai-e naiTow 
 and crooked, and go upwards and downwards, not only by inclined 
 plains, but in complete staircases. Hardly had I taken fifty steps 
 in the labvi-inth, before I lost my way ; but instead of asking, I went 
 on at hazard. In towns which are strange to me, but in which I 
 know there are cm-ious monuments, I like to leave the order in which 
 I see them to chance, so that the surprise is complete, and the first 
 impression pure, no chattering cicerone having weakened the effect 
 of the monument or ruin which attracts me, by preparing me for it, 
 so that no suggestions ha%nng been made to increase or diminish the 
 interest attached to it, it exercises its full power over me. 
 
 I was going straight on without any exact object, when suddenly, 
 at the corner of a small steep street, my eyes fell on a colossal stone 
 arch thrown across the entrance. I looked up and saw that I was at 
 llic foot of the papal chateau.
 
 IJO TUE S0UT}1 OF FRANCE. 
 
 This châtemt has the middle atres written as plainly on its stone 
 •walls and towers as the history of Kamescs is upon the granite of the 
 pyramids ; it is indeed the fourteenth century, with its reUgious 
 wars, its ai-gumcnts of the sword, and its church militant. You 
 would think it rather tlic citadel of Ali Pacha than the dwelling- 
 place of John XXII. Art, pleasure, luxury, everything is sacrificed 
 to the means of defence, and it is the only complete model which 
 remains of the military architecture of that age. In front, nothing is 
 to be seen but the walls, and the city lies hid behind it. 
 
 Enter the courtyard, and you will tind the interior of the palace 
 as strongly fortified as the exterior. Everything is ready in the 
 event of the gates having been taken by surprise ; on each side 
 towers command the enclosui-e, and death threatens ; the assailants 
 who have fancied themselves conquerors, find liere that they must 
 begin tlie siege again, and, supposing the second assault to have been 
 as successful as the fu'st, thei-e is still a sombre, isolated, and gigan- 
 tic tower, into which the besieged and pursued pope can make a 
 last retreat. Should this town be forced like the others, the staircase 
 which leads to the pontificial apartments is suddenly lost in the wall ; 
 and while the last defenders of the fortress crush the besiegers 
 beneatli a false ceiling, the sovereign jiontiti" reaches a vault, the 
 iron gates of which open before and close after him ; this vault leads 
 to a secret door, which ojiens to tl:e lîiione, where a boat, which has 
 been waiting for the fugitive, bears him ofi'Av ith the spec-d of an arrow. 
 
 Notwithstanding the strange incongruity ])resented by the modern 
 gamson and the ancient citadel, it is impossible not to feel impressed 
 by the historical and poetical associations of such a ])lacc. You can 
 not wander an liour in these i)assagcs, tlu-ough these courts, among 
 I'risons and chambcTS of tortm-e, aiul see evcrythiug so well jjrepared 
 for vengeance and iinjjunity, witliout being carried back to those 
 iiistinctive])assions which modern civilization linsnot perhaps destroyed, 
 but certainly reju'essed within our bosoms. Here you understand 
 ju'rfectly why at a juriod when there was no hope for ])uni>hmenl 
 of the strong, or ])roteclion of the weak, everything was of iron, from 
 the sceptre to the sword, from the sword to the dagger. 
 
 In the midst of all these melancholy ideas, we find some sparks 
 of art shining like gold ornaments on dark arnumr ; these aro 
 paintings which belong to the hard style which marks the (ransitioii 
 from Cimabue to l^ii)hnel. They are thought to be by («iotto, or 
 (iiottino, and, certainly, if liicy are not by these miLsters, they belong 
 to their age an<l school 'I'hese paintings ornament a tower which 
 wu» jjrohalily the ordinary abode of tiie \^o\K', and a chapel, which 
 wuii used as a tribunal of tlie IiKjui^ition.
 
 ROOM .\r:\ini:R Tiiincn. i.'i 
 
 Coming; out of the pojjc's palace, I iiuiuired for tlio house of M. 
 
 11 , and he was pointed out to mc crossiu<^ the street. I went to 
 
 him and gave my letter, lie held out his hand, and I felt I miirht 
 dispose of his time and knowledj^e as freelj' as if we had known 
 each other ten years. Artistic organizations possess an electricity 
 which is communicated in a moment, hj' word, look, or touch. 
 
 We passed the day tog-ether, and visited the churches, mai-kcts, 
 and port, and saw the inhabitants praying, trading, and quarrelling, 
 with their Arab complexions and Spanish blood, men like human 
 s(juibs, who explode at the approach of political agitation. I saw 
 that towns, like individuals, are not all constituted alike, but have 
 different organizations ; tluit as it was impossible to impose German 
 or Russian laws on the Africans, so cities must be judged according 
 to their latitudes, and allowance made for a dark and a burning 
 skj-, for frost and for sunshine. 
 
 When I returned to my room at night and saw at the foot of the 
 bed the bullet-hole which had given me such frightful dreams the 
 night before, the marshal's death appeared to me no less terrible 
 than then; but it now seemed as easily accounted for as that of 
 a man who had unfortunately fallen into a den of tigers. Let 
 me try to explain myself to my readers. 
 
 The date of the religious dissensions which were the origin of 
 ])olitical hatred, goes back in Avignon to the second century. 
 Pierre Valdo, a citizen of Lyons, declared himself chief of a sect of 
 reformers, who wished to restore Christianity to its evangelical pu- 
 rity. This ancestor of Calvin, Luther, and Wiekliffc, found numerous 
 parties among the Lyonnais, who were always inclined to mysticism, 
 and who in cm' age of infidelity, or at least of doubt, have given us 
 P,dgar Quinct, Saint Martin, Ballanchc, and we almost say Lamartine, 
 whose religion may be^ disputed, but not his religious feeling. 
 
 However, the Bishop Lords of Lyons, who possessed not only the 
 spiritual but also the temporal power, forced the followers of Valdo, 
 who were called Valdcnscs, to leave the town ; they did so, conducted 
 by their chief, and followed by their wives, children, and servants. 
 The fugitives stopped for a short time in Dauphiné, but there meeting 
 iresli persecution, the modern Moses resumed the direction of the 
 flight of these modern Hebrews, crossed the Durance between Embrun 
 and Sistcron, and sought an asylum in the county of Venaisson, 
 which was a fief of the empire under the sovereignty of the Counts 
 of Toulouse. The inhabitants of Venaisson soon shared the reUgious 
 doctrines of thch* guests, part of whom settled in the valley of Sault, 
 ochind ^lomit Ventoux, and the remainder spread tlu-ough Languedoc
 
 Jjj THE SOUTH OF in.VNCE. 
 
 wlicre they were called Vaudois, a corruption of their first name of 
 Valdcnses, and finally Albigonses, when, thcii- numbers having in- 
 creased, they formed the greater part of the inhabitants of the town 
 of Albi, and the county of which it is the capital. 
 
 Soon their original simplicity was lost in the poetical and volup- 
 tuous Lanquedoc ; they adopted the satiiical language of thcu- ances- 
 tors, the Trubadom-s, and ridiculed, in rhyming pamphlets, the 
 Catholic priests and ceremonies. Nobles, princes, even kings, 
 whose faith was wavering, abandoned the bosom of the Church to 
 embrace this heresy, wliich tlu-eatencd to extend fi-om the Pyrenees 
 to the Garonne, when one man resolved singly to stop it. Tliis man 
 was Dominique, sub-prior of Orme, and elector of the church of 
 Saint Jean de Latrau at Home ; he preached a crusade. His words 
 not only awoke rehgious liatred, but national antipathy. The inhab- 
 itants 01 the nortli had ahvaj-s detested those of the south; they 
 could not pardon them for the riches, happiness, and municipal 
 liberty they held from the Romans ; nor for the arts, monuments, and 
 civilization, wliich they had received from tlic Arabs. They remem- 
 bered that CloA-is, Cliarles Martel, and Charlemagne had but pa'^sed 
 over this sunny and fertile land, without being able to fix themselves 
 there. The voice of])ominique re-echoed fm-ther than he himself 
 had hoped ; and, notwithstanding the heroic struggle of the Vicomte 
 de Biziers and King Peter of ^Vnagon, Simon de Montford carried, 
 one after the other, all the strongholds defended by the Albigi-nses, 
 and Piaymond of Toulouse, wliom we sliall see when we reach St. 
 Gilles doing penance on the ste2)s of tlie churcli, gave tliem a final 
 blow by abjuring the heresy. 
 
 Public as was the abjuration, it could not disarm the conquerors 
 of the Count of Toulouse ; they sequestrated and gave to the pope, who 
 hadauthorizedthe crusade, the t'lmtat J'ciiaissin and seven strongholds 
 whicli llaj-mond possessed in Languedoc or Provence. l$ut Avignon, 
 which was at this period a powerful republic, governed by ])odestas 
 freely elected, sided wit li Raymond, and refused to submit; and in 
 1228, l/ouis VIII. ])resi'nted himself at tlie gates, at the liend of an 
 army, demanding a jjassage through the town tliat he miglit cross 
 tlic llhonc by the bridge of St. IJenezet, some arclies of which still 
 remain. The Avignonais, were not deceived by tliis stratagem ; they 
 saw that to o])en their gates to the king of France waa to open them 
 at the Bamo time to slavery. Tliey, therefore, jjroposed to make a 
 ettiweway, which should communicate by means of a ])latform with 
 tho bridge, bo that tlie French army might traverse the Rhone with- 
 out passing through the town. Hut that was not what Louis wished; 
 he repeated his summons, demanding to pass, witli lance in rest, hel-
 
 ROOM Kr.MBEK TIIKEE. 1J3 
 
 met on licacl, banners displayed, and trumpets sounding. The in- 
 dignant citizens offered peaceable entrance as their last concession, 
 ^vith heads uncovered, lances I'aiscd. and only the roj-al banner flying. 
 Louis commenced the blockade, tJius proving tliat in demanding a 
 passage he demanded the town. The siege lasted three months, 
 dming which, says a chronicler, the citizens of Avignon gave the 
 French soldiers dart for dart, wound for wound, and death for 
 death. 
 
 At last the town capitulated. The cardinal legate, Romain de 
 Saint- Ange, ordered the Avignonais to demohsh their ramparts, fill 
 lip theii" ditches, pull down theii' hundred towers which were in the 
 town, and deliver up their vessels, their engines, and warlike machines. 
 He imposed on them a high tax, forced them solemnly to abjm-c 
 "VA'aldo's heresy, made them swear to maintain thirty men-at-arms, 
 fully armed and equipped, at Palestine, to co-operate in the deliverance 
 of the tomb of Christ; and to watch over the fulfilment of these con- 
 ditions, the bulk of which still exist among the archives of the 
 town, founded the association of Grey Hermits, which, after having 
 existed more than eight hundred years, remains in om- own time. 
 From that day religious hatred became also political. 
 
 Less than a centuiy afterwards, that is, in 1309, Bertrand de Sotte, 
 who had become pope imder the name of Clement, gi'ving as a pretext 
 the troubles of Italy, and to be near the Contut Venaissin, which had 
 been a papal territorj' since the sequestration of Simon de Montfort, 
 came to ask hospitality from Avignon ; and schism took root in the 
 land of heresy. 
 
 Great and profound was the policy of Philip the Fair when he 
 formed the plan of transporting the papal throne into France, so as 
 to hold the temporal and spiritual powers at the same time in his iron 
 grasp. The pontificate, insulted by Nogaret and Coilona in the person 
 of Boniface VIH., abdicated the empire of the world in the person of 
 Clement V., who was consecrated by the king in the forest of An- 
 delys ; and who, from an ambitious desire of being elected, bound 
 himself by oath to those terrible promises, one of which only is known, 
 the destruction of the order of the Templars. This is sufficient, how- 
 ever, to give us an idea of what the others were. 
 
 The love of dominion, dormant for a moment, revived in the chiefs 
 of the Church. Clement VI. profited by the crimes and misfortunes of 
 Jeanne de Naples, then a prisoner with the Provcnf;al barons, to purchase 
 for 80,000 gold florins, the lordship of the town and states of Avignon, 
 which he held from the Marquis to Foralquier and Provence, from 
 whom she was descended. It was with this sum that, after having 
 pleaded her cause in Latin, in the principal chapel of the palace,
 
 151 TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 opposite the picture of the Last Judgment by Giottini,* and having: 
 been acquitted by the cardinals of the charge of the assassination of 
 André, her husband, she fitted out a tloct, and recovered her kingdom. 
 
 Hardly did the popes feel they were upon their own ground when 
 they laid tlie foundations of the fortress of which we have endeavoured 
 to give a description, but of which an engraving alone can enable our 
 readers to form an idea. It was the capitol of the pontificate ; and 
 from its ramparts they hoped to reconquer the empii-e of the world. 
 Towards the end of the fourteenth century, they had succeeded so 
 well as to have become objects of suspicion to the same I'oyal house 
 which had intended to give Clement V. and his successors guards, a 
 prison, and an asylum — not a court, a palace, and a kingdom. 
 
 It was indeed a court, a palace, and a kingdom. 
 
 Avignon had become the queen of luxury, indolence, and dissipa- 
 tion. It had a new girdle of towers and walls, with which it was 
 encircled, by Hernandy de Hcredia, grand-master of the order of St. 
 John of Jerusalem. It had dissolute priests, who administered the holy 
 sacrament with hands fevei-ed by the previous night's debauchery ; 
 beautiful courtezans, who stripped the tiara of its diamonds, to form 
 them into bracelets and necklaces; and the echoes of Vaucluse soothed 
 it to slumber Mith the soft and voluptuous songs of Petrarch. 
 
 Charles V. who was a religious, good, and powerful king, could 
 not endure such scandal to tl\e Church ; and sent Marshal IJoucicaut 
 to drive the anti-pope, lienoit XIII., from Avignon. The city opened 
 its gates; but Pierre de Luna shut himself up in his castle, and de- 
 fended it for some months, and from its walls directed his instru- 
 ments of war against it witli his own hands, and laid in ruins more 
 than one Imndred houses, and killed four thousand Avignonais. At 
 last the fortress was stormed, and the inner works carried ; but I'ierro 
 do Luna took refuge in the tower, and at the moment when the 
 French troops broke through its gates, and precipitated themselves 
 on the false staircaso of wliich we have sj)oken, Henoit XIll. escaped 
 through tlie vault, left the tower by the secret door, reaclud Spain, 
 where the king of Spain offered him an asylum; and t lure, every 
 morning, from (he top of a tower, assisted by two priests, who formed 
 his secret college, blessed tlie world, and excomnniiiieated his ene- 
 mies. Finally, at the time of his death, fearing tliat the schism would 
 expire with him, he made his two vicars cardinals, on the under- 
 standing that one should become j>ope. I'ioiTe de Luna having ceased 
 to breathe, the two cardinals met in conclave, and one proclaimed tho 
 other Tlu' new pope pursued tiic schism for some time, supported 
 by his cardinal, who formed in his own person tho whole Papal Court. 
 • Tomo»o 1)1 stcfiitio.
 
 ROOM NUMBER THREE. l.>i 
 
 At last Rome opened a conference witli them, and both returned into 
 the pale of the Church, one with the titk; of Arclibishop of Seville, 
 and tlic other as Archbishop of Toledo. Thus finished the immediate 
 control of the French popes in the Contât J'cnaifiain, ^vhich, after their 
 return to lionic, was fjoverned by legates and vice-legates, till IT'Jl, 
 when the contât was reunited to France. 
 
 By a strange coincidence, Avignon, where seven popes reigned for 
 seven tens of years, had seven hospitals, seven brotherhoods of penitence, 
 seven monasteries, seven convents, seven parishes, and seven cemeteries. 
 
 Among these brotherhoods, that of the Grey Penitents, established 
 as we have shown by Louis VIIL, and Romaine de St. Ange, was the 
 oldest. Next, the Black Penitents, founded on the model of those of 
 Kaymond of Toulouse ; then the White Penitents, whose order was 
 a rival of the last. 
 
 Of these three associations, which still exist in the town, the first 
 kept neuter, taking no part in politics ; but the two others, which, as 
 we have said, owed their existence to opposite parties, alwaj^s pre- 
 served their party spirit. The Black Penitents, founded on the plan 
 laid down by Raj^mond of Toulouse, were always inclined to resist 
 the spiritual and temporal powers ; the White Penitents, on the con- 
 trary', true to the principles which had led to their institution, were 
 always attached to the Church and throne. The hatred was so con- 
 stant and iTiveterate, that each time the two associations were unfor- 
 tunate enough to meet at any public solemnity, a combat took place, 
 in which they fought with crosses and flag-staffs, and which did not 
 finish till one of the two beat a retreat, and left the field to the enemy, 
 who, then recovering their monastic gravity, continued their road in 
 triumph, mingling songs of victory with their religious liymns. By 
 degrees the town separated into two camps, and ranged itself under 
 the banner of one or other of the associations. There are districts 
 entirely AXliite Penitent, such as those of Fusteries, Limas, and the 
 neighbourhood of the gate of Loulle ; there are others which are- 
 Black Penitent, which sun-ound the gate of Ligne. The result was, 
 that when the reformation of Calvin began to spread in the south, 
 where it found the old leaven of Vaudois heresy, the new religion, 
 protected by ^Lirguerite d' Alençon, sister of Francis I., was adopted 
 by all those who belonged to the opposition party — that is to say, who 
 were Black Penitents; while the "NMiite Penitents, on the contrary, be- 
 came mor-e attached to the Roman and apostolic religion. The revo- 
 lution of '89 awoke old religious hatred, and converted it into political 
 aversion. The two parties met again, still faithful to their banners; 
 the Black Penitents, schismatics, and republicans, and the "WTiite Peni- 
 tents, papists and royalists.
 
 156 THE SOL'TH OF FR.\NCE. 
 
 Blood flowed through the streets of Avignon as if in a circus. 
 The Black Penitents triumphed with the Montagnai'ds; the ^^^^itc 
 Penitents took their revenge with the Thermidoriens. All the old 
 hatred of the ancestors descended to the sons, strengthened by fresh 
 causes of aversion, till the iron hand of Napoleon subjected all, black 
 and white penitents, royalists and republicans. During his ten yeai-s' 
 reign, smoke, Hame, and lava smouldered in the volcano ; but when, in 
 1814, the giant was obliged to open his hand, and drop all that it 
 contained, even his sword, the political Vesuvius instantly blazed ujj, 
 and royalist hate burst fortli afresh, destroying all before it. Stopped 
 for an instant by the hundred days, "Waterloo restored it to full 
 strength by promising it impunity. 
 
 But the commerce of the empire, which had flourished internally 
 from the difficulty of exportation, had created a new and floating 
 population of about 500 porters. These people, at the time of the 
 restoration, adopted the opinions of the diflercnt districts to which the 
 natui'o of tlieu- employment called them ; those who worked on the 
 Upper Rhone, from the Gate de la Ligne to the middle of the fort, 
 became Black Penitents ; those who worked on the Lower Rhone, from 
 the middle of the port to the wooden bridge, joined the White Peni- 
 tents. Each party niled in its tm-n, according to whether democratic 
 or monarchical ideas were in the ascendancy. 
 
 The reaction of LSlô at last decided the victorj- in favour of the 
 Royalists; and the aristocratic party, who had old and deadly injuries 
 to revenge, saw in the porters, who, like them, belonged to tlxe partj' 
 of "White Penitents, instruments, the more deadly because they could 
 be blindly led ; and possessing themselves secretly of tlicir services, 
 worked in concealment the golden springs of the machine whose 
 ctfccts were as visible as they were awful. 
 
 All tlic south was on fire in a moment ; the flames spread as if a 
 train of powder had been laid from town to town. Marseilles set 
 the cxami)le; Avignon, Nimes, Uzes, and Toulouse followed it, and 
 each of these towns obtained a temble celebrity. 
 
 Of all these murderers it must be allowed Pointu, the Avignon 
 murderer, was the most remarkable. Sprung from the jjcople, he was 
 an assassin ; l)ut gifted as ho was, had he been born in another sphere, 
 he would have been a great man. 
 
 Pointu was a perfect model of a man born in the south of France ; 
 of olive complexion, eagle eye, hooked nose, and teeth of ivory. Al- 
 though he wuH but little alrove the middle Bizc, and witli slioulders 
 bent from tlio practice of carrying lieavy weights, with his legs 
 bowed from the enormous loads he was in the habit of carrying daily, 
 he yet pri. "served extraordinary strength and skill, lie would throw
 
 ROOM XLTiIBKR THREE. 157 
 
 over the gate of Loullc a forty-eight pound cannon ball ; ho could 
 throw a stone across the Ilhonc, that is to say more than two hun- 
 dred paces ; Avhilc running he could throw his knife with such ex- 
 actitude, that this new Parthian arrow could nail at a distance of 
 fifteen paces a piece of five francs to a tree. Add to this, he was 
 equally expert with the gun, pistol, or sword, he possessed great 
 natural wit, a deep hatred that he had sworn against the republicans, 
 at the foot of the scaffold on which perished his father and mother; 
 and you may form some idea of the terrible leader of the murderers 
 of Avignon, who had under his orders as his principal officer, Farges, 
 the weaver, Roquefort, the porter, Nadant, the baker, and -Mainon, 
 the broker. 
 
 At the epoch when this fearful drama was passing, Avignon was 
 entirely given up to these men, who the civil and military authorities 
 would not, could not, or dared not restrain, it was reported that Mar- 
 shal Brune was at Luc with six thousand men to render the 
 government an account of his conduct.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MARSUAL BRVXE. 
 
 The marshal, knowing the state of the south and bchig a-ware of the 
 dangers which threatened him, had requested perinission to return 
 by sea, vhich was formally denied him. The IJukc dc Rivièro, 
 governor of Marseilles, promised him a safe conduct. The assassins, 
 delighted, heard that a republican of '89, a marshal of the empire, 
 was to pass through Avignon. Sinister rumours were afloat ; an 
 infamous calumny was abroad, already proved false a hundred times, 
 that Brune, who only arrived in Paris on the ôth September, 1792, 
 had on the second of the same month carried on the end of a lanco 
 the head of the Princess Lamballc. Soon the news spread that the 
 marshal had been nearly murdered at Aix ; the marshal owed his 
 safety to the speed of his horses. Pointu, Farges, and Koquefort 
 swore he should not be equally fortunate at Avignon. 
 
 In following the route he had taken, the mai'shal had but two 
 means of arriving at Lyons: he must either pass through Avignon, 
 or avoid it by a cross country road, which leaves the high road about 
 two leagues distant at Pointct. The assassins had foreseen this 
 chance, and on the 2nd of .\ugust, the day on which the marshal 
 waa expected, Pointu, Magnon, and Nadot, accompanied by four 
 other men, started at six o'clock in the morning by the Porte du 
 Rhone to lie in ambush on the road to Puintet. Arrived at the junc- 
 tion of the two roads, tiie marsluil, informed of the hostile feeling 
 manifested towards him at .\vignon, wished to take the cross road 
 Mhere Pointu and his men lay hid ; but the postillion absolutely 
 refused, .saying his master lived at Avignon, not at Pointct. One of 
 the aides-de-camp wished, with a pistol at his licad, to oblige liim ; 
 but the marshal woulil not allow any violence to be offered to the 
 man, and quietly gave the orders to continue to Avignon. 
 
 At nine o'clock in tiie morning (he marshal arrived there, and 
 stopjicd at the hotel of tlie Palais Jioyal, whidi was then called the 
 Hotel do la Poste. AVhile they changed horses and visrd tiie pass- 
 ports, the marshal ulighlcrl to take a basin of sonj). 
 
 He bad not been in tlie hotel above five minutes, before a con- 
 Hidtnible party a.sscmbled at the door. M. Moulins, the master of the
 
 MAUSIIAL BRUNE. L'.O 
 
 hotel, alarmed at the numbers, went immediately to the marshal and 
 advised him not to wait for his papers, but to depart immediately, 
 promising to send his passport and that of his aide-de-camp after 
 him. The marshal arose ; the horses being ready, he seated himself 
 in his carriage amidst the mm-mm-s of the populace, many of whom 
 began already to shout zaoii, an exciting cry, which always contains 
 a mcTuicc and an excitement to murder in a single monosyllable. 
 
 The marshal started at a gallop, cleared without any impediment 
 the gate of LouUe, followed and menaced, but not injured, by the 
 shouts of the populace. 
 
 He imagined himself out of the reach of his enemies; but arriving 
 at the Porte du llhone, he perceived a party of men armed with guns 
 and headed by Farges and Roquefort. Tliis group, threatening the 
 postdlion with certain death, made him return. Forced to obey, at 
 the distance of about fifty paces he found himself in the presence of 
 those who had followed him from the Palais Royale. The postillion 
 stopped, and in an instant the traces were cut; the marshal 
 immediately opened the door and leaped out, followed by his valet-de- 
 chambre, and entering by the Porte Loulle, followed by the second 
 carriage containing his aide-de-camp, again entered the I'alais 
 Royale. It opened to receive him and his suite, and immediately 
 closed its doors. The marshal asked for a chamber he was shown to 
 one on the first floor. In less than ten minutes, three thousand 
 persons l;ad gathered round the hotel. At this moment the carriage, 
 which the marshal had quitted, arrived, guided by tlie postillion, wlio 
 had contrived to tie up the traces ; they opened the gates of the 
 coach-house to allow the carriage to enter ; in so doing the crowd 
 attempted to pass, but the porters, Vernet and !Montemoulin, two 
 men of colossal strength, contrived to drive back the multitude and 
 close them. The aides-de-camp, who to this time had remained in 
 theii" carriage, Y/ere desirous of alighting and joining the marshal ; 
 but M. Moulin ordered the jiorter Vernet to hide them in the coach- 
 house. Vernet, taking one in each hand, dragged them in against 
 their inclination, pushed them behind some empty barrels, covered 
 them with some pieces of carpet, and telling them with a voice that 
 sounded like the words of a prophet, " If you move, you are dead 
 men." The aides-de-camp remained silent and motionless. 
 
 M. de St. Chamans, prefect of Avignon, who had hardly been an 
 hour in the town, arrived at this juncture. The crowd were breaking 
 the windows and the private door ; the street was quite full, and a 
 thousand death-cries were heard, among which was the terrible 
 zaou. ]\I. ^loulin saw that all was lost unless they could keep the 
 door until the troops of Major Lambot came up. He told Veruct to
 
 :C0 THE SOUTH OF FIL^XCK. 
 
 take charge of those who were attacking the door, while he di'ovo 
 back those who had got in through the windows. And those two 
 men undertook to dispute singly with the furious populace the blood 
 for which they thirsted. One sprang into the passage, the other into 
 the dining-room. IJoor and window were both broken in, several 
 men had entered. At the sight of Vcrnet, whose strength was well 
 known, they drew back. Vcrnet took advantage of it and again 
 closed the door. Meanwhile, M. Moulin seized liis double-barrelled 
 gun, which was hanging over the mantel-piece, aimed at five men who 
 were in the dining-room, and threatened to fire on them imless they 
 instantly withdi-ew ; four obeyed. M. Moulin, seeing that only one 
 man remained, laid down his gun, took his adversary in his arms as if 
 he had been a cliild, and threw him out of the window ; the man died 
 three weeks afterwards, not from the fall, but from the effects of the 
 grasp. M. Moulin, after he had thrown him out, shut the window. 
 As he was closing the shutters he felt some one take hold of his head 
 and turn it violently over his left shoulder, and at the same moment 
 a pane of glass flew into atoms, and the steel of a hatchet grazed his 
 shoulder. M. de St. Chamans had seen the weapon descending, and 
 had turned away, not the weapon, but the object against which it wa.<; 
 aimed. ^I. Moulin caught hold of the handle of the hatchet, wrested 
 it from the hands of the man who struck the blow, from which he 
 had so narrowly escaped, shut the window again, barred the inner 
 shutters, and hastened again to the marshal. 
 
 He found him walking rapidly uj) and down the room. His fine 
 and noble countenance was as calm as if he had not known it was 
 his death that these men sought. M. Moulin conducted him from 
 the room number one into the room immber tlnee, which, being a 
 back room looking into the yard, offered more chances of safctj*. 
 The marshal asked lor writing-jjaper, pen, and ink; M. ^Moulin 
 brought them to him ; tlie marsshul sat down at a little table and 
 began to write. 
 
 At this moment fresh ciies were heard ; M. de St. Chamans liad 
 gone out, and ordered the multitude to withdraw. A thousand voices 
 nsked immediately wlio lie was who gave them ordei-s ; lie told them 
 his rank. " We only know tiie ])refcct by liis uniform," was the 
 answer from evciy side. Infurtunatdy the luggage of M. de St. 
 Cluinianshad not yet arrived; he was dressed in a green coat, nankin 
 pantaloons, and .sjiortinf^ waistcoat — not a veiy iniposin;.; rostumc in 
 hucli a situation, lie utood on a bench to address lli<' mob, but a 
 voice exclaimed, "Down with the green coat! W'c have hail enough of 
 quacks." He was obliged to descend. Vcrnet oju-ned the door for 
 tlicni ; K(in\f of ilic |K)pulace tried to take advantage of it to get in
 
 MARSHAL BRUNK. 
 
 vnth him, but Vcrnot's fist fell three times, and three men rolled at 
 his feet, like bulls struck down by the axe of the butcher ; the otlicrs 
 withdrew. Twelve defenders like Vernet would have saved the mar- 
 shal ; yet this man was a Royalist, he shared the opinions of those lie 
 opposed, and, like them, regarded the marshal as a mortal enemy ; but 
 he had a noble heart, he wislicd his trial, not his mui'der. 
 
 One man had heard what had been said to M. de St. Charaans 
 about his uniform, and had gone to put on his own. This man was 
 M. du Puy, a good and venerable old man, with white hair, a mild 
 countenance, and conciliating voice. He returned in his mayor's 
 dress, his scarf, and double cross of St. Louis, and the Legion of 
 Honom* ; but neither his age nor rank Avere respected by these men ; 
 they did not let him even reach the door. He was thrown down, 
 trampled under foot, his dress and scarf torn, and his wliite hairs 
 covered M-ith dust and blood ; exasperation had reached its height. 
 The garrison of Avignon, it apj)earcd, was composed of four hundred 
 volunteers, forming a battalion called the Koyal Angoulêmc, and 
 commanded by a man, who called himself Lieutenant-General of the 
 liberating army of Vaucluse. The troop formed dii-ectly under the 
 windows of the hotel of the Palais lloyal. It was almost entirely 
 composed of Provenoeaux, speaking the same 2)atois as the porters 
 and lowest class. The people asked the soldiers what they came for ; 
 why did not they let them do justice peaceably, and if they wanted 
 to prevent their doing so ? " Quite the contrary," replied one of the 
 soldiers ; " throw him out of the window, and we will catch liim on 
 our bayonets." This answer was received with terrible cries of 
 joy. A silence of some minutes succeeded; it was easy to see 
 that eveiy one waited in expectation. The calm was only on the 
 surface ; soon fresh vociferations wci-c heard, but this time from the 
 interior of the hotel. A party had separated from the mob, led 
 by Farges and lloquefort ; they had scaled the walls by means of 
 ladders, and sliding along the roof, came into a balcony which ran 
 under the windows of a room in which they saw the marshal writing 
 at a table. 
 
 Some broke through the windows witliout opening them, wliilst 
 others entered by the door. The marshal, surprised and suddenly 
 siuTounded, rose, and not wishing the letter he was writing to tho 
 Austrian commander for protection to fall into the hands of these 
 wretches, tore it up. A man, who bcloriged to a more elevated class 
 than the others, and who still wears the cross which he doubtless 
 received for his conduct on this occasion, advanced towards the 
 marshal sword in hand, and told him, if he had any preparations 
 to make he must do it quickly, for he had only ten minutes to live. 
 
 L
 
 lôê THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " W'iiat do you snv about tcu minutes?" cried Faroes, holdings the 
 baiTel of the pistol a<;ainst the breast of the marshal. The marshal 
 moved it away ■with his hand as it went oti", and the ball was lo^^t in 
 the cornice. 
 
 " .Vwk ward fool!" said the marshal, raisinj^ his shoulders, •' that 
 catinot kill a man with your pistol at his breast ! " 
 
 " True," replied Koquel'ort, in jxifois, " you shall see how such 
 things should be done." At the same time he aimed at him with his 
 carbine, fired, and the marshal fell dead. The bullet had passed 
 through his breast, and buried itself in the wall. 
 
 Tlie report of fire-arms had been heard in the streets, and the nioh 
 answered to each discharge by ferocious howls. A wretcli named 
 Cadillan ran to tlie front balcony, and holding in each liand a pistol, 
 which he had dared to discli;irge even on the corpse, cut a ca])er 
 " Here," said he, "is he wlio did tlie deed!" and the scoundrel lied, 
 for he boasted of a crime committed by bolder assassins. 
 
 Ik-hind liim came the general of the liberating ai-my of ^^uu•luse. 
 He bowed gracefully to tiie people. " The marshal has done justice 
 on himself," said he : " Long live the king !" 
 
 Cries, in which hatred, revenge, and joy were mingled, rose from 
 among the crowd ; and the state-prosecutor and the magistrate imme- 
 diately set to work to draw up the official certificate of suicide. 
 
 All b(>ing over, M. Moulin wislied at least to save everything 
 valiial#e in the carnage of the marshal. He found in his desk 40.000 
 francs, in his pockets a siiuti'-box enriched with diamonds, a yaw of 
 pistols and two sabres, one of which had the hilt ornamented with 
 precious stones, and was a gift from the unfortunate Sultan Silim. 
 As M. Moulin was crossing the yard with the.se things, the .sabre was 
 snatched from his hand by the commander of the volunteers, who 
 kept it five years as a troj)hy : it was only in IH'20 that he was forced 
 to restore it to the widow of the marsluil. Tliis officer held his rank 
 during tlie restoration, and was not dej)riv((l of it till IS.'JO. 
 
 Tlicse things being in safety, M. Moulin wrote to M. du I'uy 
 to liave the corpse of the niarslial carried to the chapel, so that the 
 crowd dispei-sing, the aides-(l(>-cnmi) might escape. The mayor setit a 
 commissioner of ])oiice, and a litter covered witli a pail, carried by 
 four jMirters. As they were undressing the nuirshal to prove the 
 death, M. Motilin ])erceived a beh wlii<'h he wore round his body. 
 He took it ofl' and put it away. It contained four thousand francs. 
 All thcHc filings were faithfully transmitted to the widow. 
 
 Tlie body of Marshal IJriiiic was ])laced on the litter, and taken 
 out without o])position ; but hardly liad the jiorfers advanced twenty 
 nfeps into tlie street, than eri( s of "To the Ilhonc ! To the Khoiic!"
 
 MARSUAL BRUNE. 163 
 
 were heard on every side. The commissioner of police, having at- 
 tempted to resist-, "was thrown down. The porters received orders to 
 cliange the road : they obeyed. The crowd hurried them towards the 
 wooden bridge; and reaching the fourth arch, tore the litter from their 
 hands, threw over the body, and with a crj' of " military honours," 
 guns were discliargcd at the corpse, which received two fresh bullets. 
 
 On the arch of the bridge was written, in red letters, "The tomb 
 of Marshal Brune." 
 
 The Rhone refused to be the accomplice of these men. It cairicd 
 away the body, which the assassins believed to have sunk ; and the 
 next morning it was found near Tarascon. Already the news of the 
 murder had arrived. The corpse, which was recognised by Its 
 wounds, was again cast into the llhone, and the stream carried it 
 nearer to the sea. 
 
 Three leagues lower down it stopped a second time. 
 
 A man of about forty years of age, and a young man of eighteen, 
 perceived, and also recognised it ; but instead of throwing it again 
 into the Rhone, drew it on the shore, carried it to an estate belonging 
 to one of tliem, and there buried it. The eldest of these two men was 
 M. de Chartrouze, and the youngest Amédt;e Pichot. 
 
 The body was disinterred by the orders of the widow, taken to 
 her seat, St. Just, in Champagne, embalmed and placed in an apart- 
 ment near her sleeping room, where it remained covered with a veil till 
 a solemn and public trial cleared his memory from the charge of sui- 
 cide ; after which it was buried according to the sentence of the court of 
 Kiom. The assassins, who had escaped from human vengeance, did 
 not escape from that of God : almost all died miserably, lloquefort 
 and Farges were attacked by unknown illnesses, like those ancient 
 scourges sent by God upon people he wished to punish. Farges sutl'ored 
 such violent anguish from a burning inflammation that his skin dried 
 up, and he was buried in tlic earth up to the neck as the only means 
 of diminisliing his agony. Roquefort lost the use of his limbs, and 
 was obliged to crawl like a reptile. Roth died in dreadful pain, 
 regretting the scaflbld which would have saved them from their hor- 
 rible sufferings. 
 
 Pointu, condemned to death at the assizes of La Drome for hav- 
 ing assassinated five people, was abandoned by his party; his infirm 
 and deformed wife used to be seen going from house to house at 
 Avignon, asking alms for the man who during two months was the 
 king of civil war and murder. At last she discontinued begging, and 
 was seen with a black ribbon to her cap : Pointu had died nobody 
 knew where; in some corner, perliaps in the hollow of a rock, or the 
 
 L 2
 
 164 
 
 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 bottom of a wood, like an old tiger whose teeth were extracted and 
 claws cut off. 
 
 Nadaud and Magnan were condemned to the galleys for ten years. 
 Nadaud died there, and Magnan, true to his murderous vocation, 
 after leaving it became a rat-catcher, and poisoner of dogs. 
 
 There are others still living who have rank, crosses, and epaulettes, 
 Avho rejoice in their impunity, and think that they ai-e safe also from 
 the eye of the AlmigUtv. 
 
 Wait !
 
 ^^l^i^^f^ 
 
 "ii-^£S3fci^~- X-'Ç^? 
 
 FOl'NTAIN OF VAUCLUSB. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIl 
 
 THE FOUKTAIN OF VAUCLUSE. 
 
 WuKN tlic traveller has seen the Papal Palace at Avignon, which we 
 have endeavoui-ed to describe ; the Church des Domni, which is a 
 mixture of tliC Roman and Gothic styles, with a porch of the tentli 
 century, and which contains the tomb of John XXII., belonging to 
 the ornamental Gothic period, and worthy of admiration from the 
 lightness and elegance of its workmanship ; and has visited the 
 museum, bequeathed by M. Calvet to the town, with its gallery of 
 paintuigs — some very ancient, among which is a jiortrait of Caracalla, 
 representing him as vending little pies — and its various specimens of 
 the middle ages, one of which is the tomb of James second Duke of 
 Cluibannos, wliich we hnd vainly sought in the postmaster's yard of 
 La Palisse, and spent an hour in the room No. 3, in wliich the 
 dreadful event took place that we have related in the preceding 
 chapter — he has seen everything in Avignon ; and to turn liis thoughts 
 from the massacres of La Glacière, and the drownings in tlie Rhone, he 
 should take a carriage at Boyer's, and ask his son, a good-humoured, 
 indefatigable, and intelligent young man, to di-ive it, and set off on a fine
 
 1C6 THE SOC'TH OF FRANCE. 
 
 mornin? to visit tlie tbuutaiu of Vaueluse, still interesting as a 
 memorial of Petrarch and Laura. 
 
 We shall not enter into any discussion as to the existence or non- 
 existence of this celestiiil vision, to wliich the poet gave a material 
 form. Vol» unes have been written for and against it ; it matters little, 
 for to us I-aura not only existed but exists still. Such is the power 
 of genius : it bestows immortality on its works. Beatrice, Oplulia, 
 and Marguerite probably never existed, save in the dreams of Dante, 
 Slialvspeare, and Goethe; but where can nature show us beings more 
 perfect ? 
 
 The road which loads from Avignon to Vaueluse is very beautiful, 
 and much resembles the one that goes from Rome to Fraseati ; the 
 landscape is the same, and the same clearness of the air colours with 
 similar tints a similar horizon. Avignon, like its queen, was a jiapal 
 city ; and if she had no capitol, had at least her Vatican. 
 
 Some time before reaching the mountains we come to the little 
 villiige of L'Ile, picturesquely situated, as its name indicates, on a 
 piece of land surrounded with water. This water is tluit of the fountain 
 of Vaueluse ; which, deep, bulibling and rapid, half a league from its 
 source divides into seven branches, all navigable to boats, and resigns 
 its i)oetical name, which it will not profane by working mill-wheels 
 and engines, to take that of La Sorgues Travellers usually leave 
 their conveyance at this village, and take a ])alh wliich soon conducts 
 iheni into the mountain 
 
 A few steps from our point of destination wo fmnid an inn, kejjt by 
 an old cook of the Duke of Otranto, who was full of the importance 
 of liis functions. We asked him if ho could give us a dinner. " No, 
 gentlemen," replied he, " I cannot give you a dinner ; all 1 can do is 
 to give yo\i something to eat. When people want to dine at my house 
 they must send word three days iMlurelunid." 
 
 As we had another ol^jeel in view than tiiat nl' making a feast, v.-o 
 replied that we would content ourselves for that day with merely 
 eating, and i-esmned our road, after telling him the lime at which \\r. 
 would go thioiigh that pcrformane(! 
 
 The fountain of Vaueluse;, which inspired l'itrareh with some of 
 liis jirettiest verses, forms a basin of about (If) feet in circuit, of 
 wliieh llie depth cannot l)e determined. At the time wo saw it, it 
 had increased in three days about l;{() feet. When it lessens, whi<!h 
 happiiiH wilhout any a])parent cause, the water disap])earH, and the 
 basin presents llm appearance of a vast tub, wliieh can be easily de- 
 Bcended into by tho help of the- stones and masses of rock. Then is 
 Heen, in the pointed rock which overlooks the fountain from a height 
 of nearly HOO feet, the vault of tJie sublci ranean gmtlo through which
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUCI.CSE. 107 
 
 tlie water passes. It does not flow beyond Imt never dries sufficiently 
 for the bottom to be seen. All aroiuid is a cluios ; and one might 
 think that the ground had been shaken by an eaithquake. On 
 the right hand, at the top of a rock, are crumbling away the ruins 
 of what is called the liouse of Petrarch ; but no evidence can be 
 Ill-ought in support of this name, which has simply been given to it 
 hy the ignorance of the guides. 
 
 We remained four hours near the fountain, Jadin making a sketch 
 of it, I reading Petrarch's verses; and we left it with regret as the 
 hour approaclied at which we were to dine. Weretm-ned to our host, 
 wlio, havmg learnt we were Parisians, had surjmssed liimself ; and 
 notwitlistanding all our comjiliments, would only permit us to con- 
 sider the five or six excellent dishes lie had prepaied as a hasty 
 collation. The amount of the bill, we ought to say, was in hannony 
 with the modesty of the artiste. After having taken a last look, and. 
 said a last farewell to the poetically-named fountain, we returned 
 to Avignon, where the porter, Vcrnet, with whom we wished to be 
 ac(piainted, was waiting for us at M. Moulins. He wiis a fine-looking 
 old man, still displaying much strength ; he could not comprehend 
 our praises and refused our money. We ordered some punch, but he 
 scarcely tasted it. While he was talking with me, Jadin, without his 
 knowledge, sketched his likeness, wliich was a very good resemblance, 
 and gave it to him. Poor Vernet could not overcome his surprise, 
 and at first thought we were laughing at him ; at length, however, 
 we convinced him our compliments were sincere, though we could 
 not ]iersuade him they were merited. 
 
 Towards the close of the evening our worthy host, who, as we 
 liave seen, behaved so honourably and bravely on the unfortunate 
 :,'nd of August, joined us. I had observed him regarding me with 
 givat attention several times during the day. Surprised at this, I 
 asked him the reason. 
 
 " Your name is M Alexandre Dumas?" said he. 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 " Excuse my curiosity, but ai"e you the son of General Alexandre 
 Dumas ''" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " I thought so by the resemblance Well, I knew your lather." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " That is to say, as a soldier knows his general " 
 
 " You served under him '.'" 
 
 " Through all the wars of Italy and tlie Tyrol. You were speaking 
 of strength just now ; what a wrist your father had !" 
 
 " I hope, my deai* M Moulin, he never gave you any proof of it."
 
 168 TUE SODTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " You ai-e niistiikon, tlieu, for 1 had a very rougl» one." 
 
 " Ball !" 
 
 " But I don't mind it; it was for my own good " 
 
 " Tell me about it." 
 
 " We were in garrison at Plaisance. As tlie inhaliitants of the 
 town assassinated some of iis every day, the general liad issued an 
 order, forbidding officers and soldiers to go out unarmed I was at 
 that time young and feared nothing ; I knew my own strength, and 
 should have had no trouble in thrasliing tln-ee men. So I went out 
 one day in jilain clothes, my hands in my pockets, and without 
 wea|K)ns of any sort, to play the dandy in tiic market-place, when 
 your father came up on horseback I saw him approaching me, and 
 said to myself, 'lam done for!' Ho came straight to me 'Why 
 
 have you no sabre?' asked ho 'General .' 'Scoundrel! you 
 
 wish to get yourself liiurdered, then ! We'll see !' Saying this, he 
 caught me by the collar, set his hoi-se oif at full gallop, made me 
 skim the ground like a swallow, and thon, witiiout stopping, threw 
 me into tlie giuird-room, saying, ' Four-and-tweuty hours' conlino- 
 ment for this co.Kcomb.' That was soon over ; tlie imprisonment was 
 not what luunbled me most, it was having been caiTied througli 
 Plaisance like a pupitct. ' Well, brigadier,' said he to me at the lu'xt 
 review. ' Well, general,' answered I, ' I used to fancy myself a strong 
 man, but in your hands I am only a child.' ' There is a louis — go 
 and drink my health with your comrades; another time don't go out 
 without your sabre.' His second piece of advice was unnecessary, 
 and I took good care not to forget the first." 
 
 I stretched out my hand to the old soldier wlio luul touched that of 
 my fatlier, and wlio had so well remembered liis early profession 
 wlieii it was so necessary to defend him who, tliougli not luy father, 
 always called me his son.
 
 THE I'ONT DC OAKD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE I5HIDGE OVER THE GARD. 
 
 The next moraing, at seven o'clock, we were awakened by oui- clever 
 cicerone ; he came that we might visit together A'^illeneuve-lez-Avig- 
 non. We told Boyer to wait for us on tlie road to Nismes, and cross- 
 ing the wooden bridge, tlie island of the llhone, and the bridge of 
 boats, found ourselves at VUleneuve. Seeking for a spot from which 
 we could take a sketch of the town, we perceived a young man who 
 bad already chosen one. We approached, and recognised one of our 
 best friends, Paul Huet, the poetical painter, the artist of dull sandy 
 shores, wild plains, and gi-and horizons. We felt the interest of a meet 
 ing like this, two hundred leagues fi'om Paris, without any appoint 
 nient having been made ; and after waiting till he had given the 
 liuishing touch to his drawing, which passed into our portfolio, we 
 began examining Villeneuve. 
 
 The Gothic monuments of Villeneuve are, first, a very fine tower of 
 tlie fourteenth century, witli })()inted turrets, which is united to the 
 ruins of a fortress, and was probably destined to command tlie bridge 
 of St. lienezct, over against which it stands. Next is a church of 
 about tlie same date, built in the style of architecture employed at the 
 and of the thirteenth century. Itcout.ains a "Descent from the Cross" 
 by an Italian master, probably Giottiuo, who may have executed this
 
 170 THE SOCTH OF FRANCE 
 
 when he came to paint the cliapol of tlie palace. The coloiu'ing is 
 nia^nificont ; but it is so badly phiced that none but an artist would 
 discover its merits. This is not the only remarkable painting buried 
 in this dunireon ; the hospital possesses a fresco of the lifleenth 
 century, inferior in nothing to those of the Cara])o Santo of Pisa. It 
 is an imitation of Orgagna and Simon Memmi, representing the Last 
 •ludgment. The Trinity occupies the upper part of the picture; the 
 Virgin is seated below the Holy Ghost and between the Father and 
 tlic Son, half hidden by the drapery of the two heavenly Beings ; 
 round them are angels with green and red wings, which remind us of 
 the Byzantine style, and under their feet lie the damned and the 
 demons. Popular tradition attributes this picture to King Rén6 him- 
 self; and I could forgive hiui for being so poor a king if he were so 
 great a painter. Among the angels are given the portraits of several 
 lords of the Proven(,'al court who remained faithful to the king in liis 
 misfortunes, and among the daumed tiiose who, like Judas, betrayed 
 their master 
 
 In a corner of I-a Chartreuse, which was sold in lots at the time of 
 the llevolution, under a cow-shed belonging to a poor vine-dresser, Ho 
 the magnificent ruins of the tomb of Innocent VI., which is fully 
 equal to that of John XXII. for the workmanship of its foliage 
 and its miniature towers and columns. I'lifortunately, the figures 
 which ornamented the lower base have been detached, and sold 
 one after the otlier, and the statue of the Pope has the hands and 
 face mutilated. At the end of half a century Avignon discovered tiiat 
 it possessed a chef-d'tmivie of statuary in its suburbs, and wished to 
 remove it to the museuui. The inhabitants of Villeneuve, enlight- 
 ened by this st<'p, took it into their heads to become auiateurs, and 
 opposed the removal of the tomb ; and while they are disputing tiio 
 tmib remains exposed to the injuries inflicted by destructive children, 
 who so deliglit in aiming at anything resembling the human ligurc. 
 As we were deploring this barbarous conduct, wo were relieved liy 
 the assurance that mea.sures had just been determined upon for re- 
 infiviugthe tomb into one of the clia|)elH of the hospital. 
 
 'I'lie time was now come for us to re-enter our caiiriolet. We took 
 
 Ji'ave of our new friend, R , expressing our hopes tluit his avuea- 
 
 tions would soon conduct him to i'ariii. As for Iluet, liaving 
 lif>tliirig better to do, lie aceompanied us as far as the l'ont du («anl. 
 After walking for about two hours we readied the Hemoulins, where 
 we first Biiw the (iard, which rises near Siiint (jeruiain de (halberd, 
 and Ih croHHed by an iron susp 'nsion-bridge attached to four (luted 
 colinnnH m delicate and aerial as the liridge itself, 'ilie ell'ect ])ro- 
 ducud by tliis model (jf lightness is so striking that an iiinaleur of
 
 THE BRIDGE OVKIl THE GAUD. 171 
 
 the Terpsichorean art has written on one of tlie cohnnns, Pont 
 Taijlioiil (Taglioni's Bridge) ; and this name has chuigto it ever since. 
 
 Unfortunately for this exquisite specimen of modern industry, it 
 lias a neighbour which, like the magnetic mountain in the Arabian 
 Nights, attracts the traveller so strongly that he has hardly time to 
 cast more than a passing glance at the bridge. We dismounted in 
 order to allow our horse, which had to take us the same evening to 
 Nismcs, time to rest himself, and then entered, accompanied by a 
 guide belonging to the neighbourhood, a cross path which shortens 
 the distance about a quarter of an hour's walk. We had been skirt- 
 ing the base of a mountain for forty minutes, and, in our impatience, 
 asking everyone whether we had nearly reached our destination, 
 when suddenly we beheld, towering above the sombre foliage of the 
 oaks and olive-trees, and standing out against the blue sky, two or 
 three arcades of a warm yellowish tint ; they were the head of the 
 lloman giant. We still continued to advance, and at the lirst turn- 
 ing of the mountain we perceived at one glance the entire structure 
 about a hundred paces before ns 
 
 It is impossible to form any idea of the effect of this cliain of 
 granite uniting two mountains, of the stone rainbow filling tlie 
 whole horizon, of these three stories of porticoes magnificently gilt 
 by the suns of eighteen centuries. I have seen some few of tlie 
 wonders of the world : Westminster, proud of the tombs of its kings ; 
 tlie Cathedral of Rheims, with its stones as transparent as lace ; that 
 depot of palaces called Genoa ; Pisa and its Leaning Tower ; 
 Florence and its Dome ; Terni and its Cascade ; Venice and the 
 Place of St. Mark ; Rome and the Colosseum ; Naples and its Bay ; 
 Catania and its Volcano. I have been carried, with the swiftness of 
 an arrow, down the Rhine, and have seen Strasbourg and its mar- 
 vellous spire, which looks as if it had been built by fairy hands, fiit 
 before my eyes ; I have witnessed the sun rise upon the Right and 
 set behind Mont Blanc; but never have I beheld (with the exception 
 of the Temple of Segesta, which, like the structure I am speaking of, 
 is also buried in a desert) anything that struck me as so beautiful, so 
 grand and so Virgilian as tlie magnificent epic in granite that is 
 called the Pont du Gard. 
 
 I then recollected the bridge of Remoidins, which was built to save 
 tJie traveller the trouble of passing over the Pont du Gard, and by 
 which admirable contrivance a man who has travelled five hundred 
 leagues to see the Campo Santo and the columns of Trajan and 
 Pompey, saves two leagues, and, without being aware of the fact, 
 ])asses near a marvellous structure, the like of which he may search 
 for elsewhere in vain
 
 172 THE SOCTII OF FHANCE 
 
 These two bridges, however, may be tairly taken as emblems of 
 the two states of society wliicli created them, and ofler a perfect 
 «contrast of the genius of ancient and of modern times. The one, 
 full of confidence in itself, reposing on its colossal base, and be- 
 lieving in an existence of ages, built for eternity ; the other, scepti- 
 cal, inconstant, frivolous, and alive to the progress that is every day 
 made, erects temporary structures for the passing generation. The 
 one is culled the Bridge of Agrippa, the other the Pont Seguin. 
 
 It is said that it was the son-in-law of Augustus, the curator perpe- 
 tuun aquarum, who came and repeated in Gaul some of the waterworks 
 witli wliich he had already endowed Rome. Nismes, the rival of Aries, 
 suffered from a scarcity of water ; but at Uzos, wliidi was seven miles 
 distant, 1 here was a copious, healtliy and limpid spring. Agrippa ordered 
 hispopidation of soldiers to conduct tliis spring to where liis will calh^i 
 it ; and, under the hands of an army, there arose an aqueduct which 
 scaled liills, cut tlwough rocks, skirted eminences, united mountains, 
 traversed morasses, passed under villages, and terminated at Nismes, 
 whither it conveyed the water whidi, at the cost of so mucli labour, 
 had in turn passed through tlie clouds and pierced through tlio 
 bowels of tlio land in its course. Modern civilisation has certainly 
 jiresented industry and commerce witli many remarkable discoveries, 
 but had Agrippa been acquainted witli Artesian wells we should, iu 
 all jirobability, never have had the Pont du Gard. 
 
 After having jjaused in wonder before tlio wliolo, we proceeded to 
 examine the whole in detail. The bridge is com])osi'd, as we have 
 already seen, of three rows of arcades; the Gard Hows at the foot of 
 the fu'st, the traveller passes along tho side of the second, and above 
 tlic third ran the water from U/.ès. The lower arcades are six in 
 number, the intermediary ones eleven, whilst the highest extend to 
 thirty-five. 
 
 From the airy summit of the structure, which commands the whole 
 valley of the Gard, 1 saw .ladin and lluet surrounded by a trooj) of 
 gipsies, who had emerged from a cavo whicli serves them as a ))laco 
 of residence wlu^nevor tliey take a fancy to (^ome down from tlio 
 Pvrenees. The sight was too new tor me not to hasten and oiler 
 them my mite. They spoke no Kreneh, liut we numaged to under- 
 Htand one another in Italian. Tiiey were travelling iu i''ranee for jilea- 
 fiur(\ without any other object than the mere desire of liviug, without 
 nnv other resoiuTo than jtnblic clun-ily, and probably without any 
 cither Iriide than thieving. Fortuiuilely w(! were four in number, and 
 Jadin and I had r)ur fowling-jneces slinig at our liaeks. I own ti)iit if 
 I liad Ill-en alone and iniarmed, I should have recl<<incd the meeting 
 liSH picluresfjue and more dangerous
 
 THE BllIDGE OVER THE GAUD. 173 
 
 This Roman aqueduct was rendered unserviceable during the inva- 
 sion of the barbarians ; it is even asserted that tlie Visigoths, on their 
 passage through Languedoc to Spain, endeavomed to destroy it, but at 
 the moment they were about to commence the work of destruction 
 tliey turned giddy at seeing the monument so grand and themselves 
 so little, and, like the robbers of Ariosto, prostrated themselves before 
 the giant. 
 
 In Ibiii, Charles IX. made a journey into the south of France, and 
 visited the Pont du Gard. He was received by tlie Duke de Crussol, 
 wiio gave him an entertainment on the banks of the river, and the 
 moment the king passed tlie cave where we met the gipsies twelve 
 young girls, dressed as nymphs, came out and offered hiui pastrv and 
 sweetmeats. 
 
 The bridge remamed just as it had been left by the ancient work- 
 men until the year 1747, when a road for foot-passengers and car 
 riages was built against it. The authorities of Nismes were so proud 
 of this marvellous idea, whi(;h spoilt a chef-d'œuvre, that they had a 
 medal struck with this motto : " Nunc utiUiis." It was reserved for 
 the eighteentli century to dishonour that monument which the bar 
 barians of the fifth had not ventured to destroy. We were so fascinated 
 at the bridge that we could not leave it till nightfall, and it was 
 another beautiful sight to see darkness descending on the valley, and 
 to watch the light fading away from these sun- gilded stones. Unfor- 
 tunately, there was no moon, or I think we should have remained to 
 see it in the moonlight, as we had seen it in the sunshine. The con- 
 sequence of this exclusive admiration was, that we could see nothing 
 of the country from Remoulins to Nismes After having seen the 
 Pont du Gard, you should close your eyes and not open them again 
 till you ai-e in front of the Arena or the liaison Carrée
 
 AMPHITHEATRE AT N13.ME9. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 REBOUL. 
 
 There was one thing at Nismes I was even more anxious to spc than 
 its monuments, this was its poet. I liad a hutcr from Haroii 'I'aylor 
 to him, with this sinf,'ular address: " N. Rehoul, Poet and Hakor" 
 Some of liis verses whicli I had read np])oarpd to me very good. On 
 awakiiiR in the chief town of the Gard, my lirst visit was to Rehou'. 
 A young man wliom I met as I left the liotel,and of whom I iiKiuircd 
 tliH way, not only ])ointed it out, hut, pleased at the curiosily of a 
 BtrangtT, otic-red to show me tin- lionse. 
 
 before narhing our journey's end wc passed tlie Arena. I turned 
 my head the other way so that tlie Roman eolossus, wliicli was to have 
 it-i turn, should not attract either my eyes or my thoughts. 
 
 " Wc arc passing the Arena," said my guide 
 
 " Thank you, I do not sec it," replied I 
 
 Fifty stej)» further he Htopj)ed at the coi iirr of .1 little street. 
 
 " Tiiat is where llehoul lives." 
 
 " A thousand thanks. iJo you know if 1 iitu likely to lind him at 
 lionm at this time?" 
 
 Mv guide inclined his head so as U) get a siile look lluougli the 
 halfupcn door
 
 HKBOUL, POET AND BAKER 175 
 
 " He is ill the shop," replied he, and went away. 
 
 I remained a moment tliinkinpf, with my letter m my hand. In my 
 reception by thisman, which would be most clearly shown ? — his natural 
 disposition or his social position ? Would ho talk to me of poetry or 
 Hour, the academy or agriculture, publisliiug or the harvest? I knew 
 that I should find him a great man, but would his manner be uu- 
 afiected ? I entered. 
 
 " Is it M. Reboul I have the honour of addressing?" 
 
 " Himself" 
 
 " A letter from Taylor." 
 
 " What is he doing ?" 
 
 " He jiursues the artistic mission he has undertaken. You know 
 he is one o" those who, devoted to a search for the beautiful, pass their 
 lives in acquiring greater glory for their country and their friends, 
 without thinking that they wear out their health and fortime in the 
 service of others." 
 
 " You are quite right." And he began to read tlie letter I had pre- 
 sented to him 
 
 I examined him during this time; he was a man of from thirty-three 
 to thirty-five years of age, above the middle size, with an almost 
 Arabian complexion, glossy, thick hair, and teeth of ivory. 
 
 On coming to my name he looked from the letter to me, and I then 
 perceived he had magnificent eyes, as powerful and soft as those of an 
 L diav, made to express love and passion 
 
 "Sir," said he, "I am under veiy great obligations to Baron Taylor, 
 and do not know how I shall be able to thank him sulficiently." I 
 bowed in my turn. " But," continued he, " will you permit me to be 
 candid with you ?" 
 
 "I hope you will be so." 
 
 " You come to see the poet and not the baker, I suppose ? I am a 
 baker irom five in the morning till four in the afternoon ; fi'om four 
 till midnight I am a poet. Do you want any rolls ? I can give you 
 some veiy good ones Do you want verses ? Come back at five and 
 I wili give you some very bad ones " 
 
 " T will come back at five !" 
 
 " Mary !" (As ho spoke two or three customers came in.) "You see," 
 said he, " we should not liave an instant." He served them, and at 
 the same time the door of the bakehouse opened, and a man came in. 
 
 " The oven is heated !" 
 
 " Send Mary into the shop; I have called her, but she did not hear 
 me. I shall see to the baking myself!" A middle-aged woman came 
 to take his place at the counter. " I shall see you at five," said he 
 to me.
 
 ITG TUE SOUTH OF FIIANCE. 
 
 " I shall not fail!" And lie went to l>ake his bread 
 
 I left meditating on this mixture of siuii)licity and poetry Was 
 this mannerism or nature ? Did this man play a \nirt, or did he 
 simply follow the twofold nature of his organisation? This I was 
 about to learn. 
 
 I walked about during the three hours which elapsed between the 
 first and second interviews. I do not well know what I saw. I 
 mused on the present state of society. The people, from whom every- 
 tliing has proceeded for the last fifty years, after having given France 
 soldiers, tribunes and marshids. was now to furnish it with poets. 
 The eye of the Omnipotent had penetrated into the de})ths of France; 
 the people had their Lamartine. 
 
 I came back at the time ajipointed Reboiilwas waiting for me at 
 a little side door. His sliop, wliic'.i was still open, was left to the care 
 of the woman who had taken iiis place in the morning, and ho camo 
 forward to meet me. He had changed his dress ; the one he wore was 
 e.vtremely simple but very neat, something between that of the people 
 and the middle class. 
 
 We ascended a little winding staircase, and came to tlie entrance 
 of a loft, on the floor of which were piled up in sejjarate heaps difter- 
 ent sorts of cheese. We turned down one of the little valleys which 
 these mountains of food left between them, and ten stci)s brought us 
 to the door of tiie room. 
 
 " Here," said Roboul, closing it behind us, " we are separate from 
 the world of realities; now for the world of illusions. This is the 
 sanctuary; prayer, inspiration, and poetry alone have the riglit to 
 enter it. In this room, plain as you see it, I have passed the most 
 pleasant hours of my life, those in which I write and rrfiect." 
 
 The room had an almost monastic sim])licity ; the curtains of the 
 bed and windows were white, while some rush-bottomed chairs and a 
 walnut-wood bureau comiuised the whole of the furniture. 'J'ho 
 lilirary consisted of two volumes, the Bible and Corneille. " I begin, 
 said I, " to understiiud your two lives, which till now appeared iu- 
 comj)rehensible." 
 
 " Then! is nothing more siiiiplc." I'l'iilied iîfboul, " and the one 
 assists tim other; while the arms work tiic head is at re&l, und wliile 
 the iiead works the anns lire at rest " 
 
 " Kxcuse what 1 am gi'ing tu ask " 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Are you of a good family ?" 
 
 " I am the »on of u workman." 
 
 " At least, you have received stnni- education?" 
 
 " None !"
 
 KEBOUI, POET AND BAKER. 177 
 
 " What made you a poet ?" 
 
 " Misfortune "" 
 
 I looked around me; everytliiug seemed so calm, so quiet, so 
 ha^^py in this little room, that the word misfortune seemed to have 
 no eclio there. 
 
 " You arc tiying to find some explanation of what I have just said, 
 are you not?" continued Reboul. 
 
 " And 1 acknowledge I can find none." 
 
 " Have you never passed over a tomb without knowing it ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed! But the gi-ass was greener and the flowers sweeter 
 there." 
 
 " It was so with me. I maiTied a woman that I loved; my wife 
 is dead." 
 
 I sti'etched out my hand. He continued: " I was in great grief, 
 for which I vainly sought some alleviation. I had mi.Ked hitherto 
 only with men of my own class ; gentle and compassionate, but 
 vulgai'-miuded. Instead of saying to me, ' Weep, and we will weep 
 with you,' they tried to console me ; the tears which I longed to 
 shed flowed back to my heart and deluged it. I sought solitude, and 
 finding no one who could understand me, poured forth my grief to the 
 Almiglity. My lonely and religious lamentations took a poetical and 
 elevated character, which I had never remarked in my words. My 
 thoughts were expressed in an idiom new even to myself ; and as they 
 turned to heaven, finding no sjTupathy on the eaith, the Lord gave 
 them wings and they ascended towards him." 
 
 " Yes ; it is so," said J, as if he had been explaining the simplest 
 thing in the world, " and I undei'stand it now. It is thus that true 
 poets become so. How many men of talent only want a great mis- 
 fortune to become men of genius ! You have told me in one word 
 the secret of yoar whole life ; I know it now as well as you do." 
 
 " To my private sorrows public grief was added. Think of the 
 poet who sees falling around him, like October leaves, all religious 
 faith, all political conviction ; and who is left like a tree stripped of its 
 foliage to wait for a spring which may jierhaps never come. You are 
 not a Royalist, I know ; therefore I will not speak to you of your 
 old monarchy, turned off" like a discharged servant. But you aro 
 religious. Imagine, then, what it must be to see the holy images 
 before which, as a child, your mother led you to pray, cast down, 
 trampled under the hoofs of horses, drawn through the mud ; 
 imagine what it must be to see such things in Nismes. in tliis old city, 
 full of civil discord ; where everything speaks of hatred ; wliere blood 
 fiows so quickly and so long. Oh ! had I not had jioetry to complain in, 
 and religion to console me, my God ! what would have bcconie of nie'^' 
 
 31
 
 178 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Believe me, we have all scon similar things ; and in consequence, 
 at the hour ot" need cveiy poet will be the iViond of order. The 
 domain or)>oetry has been increased by the hold of politics ; revolu- 
 tions have ploughed it with the sword — our lathers have fertilised it 
 with blood ; lot us sow the seed, and faith will grow again." 
 
 "You have an entire kingdom in the stage ; for me, I have but a 
 garden. But never mind, I will cultivate flowers and wroalho thoui 
 into a crown which shall be thrown to you." 
 
 " You did not come here to make me compliments, but to give mo 
 some verses." 
 
 "Do you really wish it? or do you only ask from curiosity and 
 politeness ?" 
 
 " I thought we knew each other too well for such questions to bo 
 necessary to either." 
 
 "You are right! I am ready. Wiion I tiro you, you have only to 
 bid me stoj)." 
 
 He commenced. I remarked in his voice, from tlie very first, tho 
 intonation which belongs ])eculiarly to tho inodorn school — tho sumo 
 stylo which so often struck me in De Mgny, in Lamartine and in 
 Hugo; and yet, at this period, lleboul knew none of them. This 
 proved to me a thing I had long suspected, that in modern verso 
 there is a melody which is quite absent from tho poetry of the old 
 .school. While he was s})eaking I watched him ; his countenance had 
 assumed a now expression, tluit of faith. An earnest internal con- 
 viction was displayed on the exterior as he road on, and aoooiding to 
 what he read. 
 
 We passed four hours in this way ; ho poiu'ingout a Hood of poetry, 
 and I (;onstaiitly asking for more. I did not spare a single drawer of 
 his bureau ; everything was brought out, manusorii)ts, papers, loose 
 leaves, and at last I jiointed to a rough copy of soniolbing. 
 
 "That," said ho, "you shall read yoursrlf, to-morrow." 
 
 " Why so?" 
 
 " IJecauso it is somo verses addressed to you. I scrawled thoin 
 whilst I was waiting for you. Now let us go and see tho Arena ; in 
 doing so we shall but change the stylo of poetry, only 1 rosorvod tho 
 best to the lust." 
 
 Heb')urs house was, as I liave said, iioiir tlio ;\reiui, and tho first 
 street we took brought us oj)|)osite to it. It was llie first groat lloinan 
 monument I had soon sinr(' tho Arch of 'l"iiuni])li luid tlio theatre at 
 Oriuige. We wont roiuid it at tiie ordinary pa(;e of men who con- 
 voiso while they walk, and this took us nearly a (juarter of an houi. 
 at llie end (A' which time wo were again at tlio entrance. Jlobon. 
 undo liiiirM'lf known tu the uorter, and though tho hour for viuiting
 
 KEBOUL, POKT AND HAKE P. IT'J 
 
 it was past, llcboiil.as a townsman and neighboui', olitained admis- 
 sion. Five francs, wliich I slijjped into tlio liand of tliis modern Janitor, 
 ])laccd me so high in liis opinion that ho easily granted my request to 
 remain even after lloboul ( whom I could not decently ask to pass the 
 night in tlie open air) should be gone. However, ho insisted on aecom- 
 jianying me in my first visit to the interior ; so wo began inside and 
 luuler the lower gallery the same circidar promenaile we had just made 
 outside, then we went to the upper gallery, and from thence into the circus. 
 
 It is impossible to form an idea of the pfiect produced by tlie 
 gigantic ruin when seen by moonlight. Certainly, Italy has grander 
 remains, and the proportions of the Circus of Titus are still more 
 colossal than in that of Antoninus, but you come to them by grada- 
 tions which pre])are you for the spectacle you are about to behold ; to 
 reacli them you have to pass by the Theatre of Agiippa, the ruins of 
 the Capitol, and the Arch of Titus. Besides, it is Home, the city of 
 great -non and great things ; but at Nismes, in the centre of our mo- 
 tlern France, where no indication ])repares us for the sight of these 
 wonderfid remains of a forgotten civilisation, the giant's skeleton 
 surpasses all the powers of the mind, all the limits of imagination, all 
 the proportions of thought. 
 
 Rcboul easily perceived the cfl'ect produced on me liy this sight. 
 " You want nobody now," said he ; " all I could say to you would not 
 be worth these ruins. I leave you with the specti'o of a world — inter- 
 rogate it." 
 
 I gave liim :ny Land, and motioned him to withdraw. He went 
 away, and I lieard his steps resounding some time in the depths of 
 the amphitheatre, then become fainter, then die away, and I stood 
 alone in the solitude. 
 
 The night was fine, though rather cloudy ; the moon, which was at 
 its full, pierced through the transjjarent atmosphere of the south, which 
 its cold, ])ale rays sufficed to lighten up. It was like a nortlicrn 
 twilight. From time to time the wind blew in gusts, swelled through 
 the galleries, sounded like the llajiping of an eagle's wings, and 
 escaped through the openings which the hand of man or the foot of 
 Time have made in the venerable ediiice. There was something 
 indistinct in the sound which froze the soul and made the body 
 tremble; at one time you might have imagined it the roaring of the 
 wild beasts, at another the groans of the gladiators. Sonietinies a 
 large cloud passcjd between the moon and the earth, and a shadow- 
 was cast over tlie Arena like a pall over a coffin ; for a time the 
 details were lost iii obscurity, then by degi-ees, as if the hand of God 
 raised the shroud, the corpse began again to H])pear, stretched out 
 and mutilated.
 
 ISO THE SOLTil OF FRANCE. 
 
 I lemaiued two houi-s thus ic-construcling iu my miiul the mined 
 nioiiumcut, and the company which tilled it. All the places which 
 had hoeu coeuiMed by tlie gi'cat Roman nation were still visiMe and 
 could be re-peopled. The lour tirst rows beginning from the ground 
 were reserved tor tlie principal persons of the colony, the seats were 
 separated, and each noble family had its own marked with its name. 
 At the northern door still stood the consular estrade, and at tho 
 southern that of the priestt>sses. Above them two black arches 
 marked the recesses into which in case of rain, those retired who 
 held their privileges from religion or Caesar. The ten following rows, 
 separated from the four lirst by a wall, were reserved for the knights, 
 who had egiess and ingress by forty-four passages; ten other rows 
 were reserved for the citizens, who reached them through thirty 
 entrances ; and the populace and slaves crowning this huge reversed 
 ])yramid, stood iu crowds against the upper wall, in which were fixeil 
 the posts which supported the l'eluriuin. 
 
 Ou holidays, that is to say, when blood was to flow, 30,000 
 spectators fdled tho scats, stopped up the entrances, and even clung 
 to tho beams ; but it sometimes happened that as the man and tho 
 beast were beginning to fight a passing storm would burst in rain and 
 lightning over tho amphitheatre. Then the gladiator was sent back 
 to his ])rison and tho lion to his den ; tlio .'50, 000 spectators roso 
 spontaneously, and went into the galleries. Tho rain had tlieii but 
 tlic stones to pelt, and the building uiiglit have been deemed empty but 
 for tho buzzing of the j)eoi)lo under the arcades, like that of bees iu 
 th"ir hives. Meanwhile the animal licked his wounds, and the man 
 staunched his blood; butas soon as a ray of sunshine a])peared to 
 dry the scats, which were arningcd in a slanting manner to allow 
 tho water to run off, and the sand had drunk in the rain, tho consul 
 re-appeared at his place, and tho 30,000 spectators rc-(intcrcd by a 
 liundred openings, spread themselves again round tho circle, resumed 
 the seats they had fpiitted for a sliort time, and tho iron bars of tho 
 Arena again opened to admit the lion and the gladiator. 
 
 Tho jilace in which I was silling hapjtened to be one of the best 
 preserved in the amphitheatre. At my feet twelve or fifteen st('])3 
 conducted, in unbroken siUH-ession, to the ground. I went down tliis 
 gigantir staircase, the upper steps of which are fifteen hundred feet in 
 circumference, and readied tho .An tia itself; on citlicr side, facing ca-'h 
 otlier, arn still seen tlio two doors through which tin! combatants 
 entered. 
 
 At the time of tho l)arbario invasions, tho Visigoths foinid tho 
 amphitheatre, whidi wna thon only three centuries old, in perfect pro- 
 Bcrvatii)!! ; they converti'd it into a citadel, and in consequence of its
 
 RKBOUL, POET AND BAKER. 131 
 
 new destinatiou flauked tlie eastern gate with two towers, wliich re- 
 jnaincd standiug till 1809, The Sai'acens, after being beat by Charles 
 Martel, took re luge in tlieh" turn within its walls ; the conqueror ])ursued 
 them, and all the outer side of the colossus still bears the mark of the 
 Ihunes which were lighted by the besiegers. The barbaiians being 
 ox])elled, a garrison was left in the ancient fortress, and gave rise to 
 the Association of the Arena, composed of knights who were bound by 
 iin oath to defend it till death. These knights were, in their turn, 
 driven out by a movement of the commons, and the people, who 
 succeed to everything, founded a colony within the walls of the amjilii- 
 theatre which was in existence in 1810, composed of three hundred 
 houses inhabited by two thousand people. 
 
 I do not know when I should have quitted these magnificent ruins 
 if I had not heai'd three in the morning strike ; when I thought it was 
 time to leave them. I tlien awoke the gate-keeper, and, with some 
 trouble, got back to my hotel
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 AIGUESMOUTES. 
 
 HILIi WO were nt bronkfust the next 
 luoriiinp, our host came up to us. 
 
 "Doubtless," said he, "you come 
 to Nisinos for the Feinule? " 
 " Wliatis tlmf.'" asked I. 
 " Oh, sir, 'tis a very great fête ! 'Tis 
 nifirkin;:? tlie bvills of La Camargue." 
 " Wliere is it done?" 
 "Ill the Circus." 
 "When?" 
 " Next Sunday." 
 Jadiu and I looked at eaeli other; 
 we were botli anxious to see tlie Ferrade, but, unfortunately, our 
 time was cnRaged: it was only Wednesday, and wo could not will 
 n nuiin at Ninnies till Sunday. We. mentioned this to our host. 
 
 " IJut," said he, " had you any idea of making an excursion in tho 
 environs of Nismes?" 
 
 " We thouglit of going to Aiguesniovlcs and St. (iillcs." 
 " That will suit admirably. You eiin leave liere to(hiy, sleep at 
 Aignesmorles, stop there tomorrow and the next day, and return by 
 St. Gilles." 
 
 " Wliiit do you siiy tfi it, .ladin?" 
 " I say that our landlord is a capital faetieian." 
 "Then let us have horses and be oil." 
 
 I imtnediat<'ly went to Heboul, who was coming to do us the honours 
 <tf Nismes. 1 informed him of our new arrangement, which he ap-
 
 AiGUi:sMonTKs. is;'. 
 
 proved, regretting lie could not accompany us. Aiguesinortes was 
 liis tavonrite city ; Aiguesuiortes was the well Ironi wliicli lie drew 
 poetry when his own spring was dry; Aiguesinortes inspired him 
 with some of his finest verses; he loved this town as a man loves a 
 sweetlieart who is dying of decline before his eyes. Indeed, if I had 
 not long desired to sec the city of St. Louis, Reboul's enthusiasm for 
 tlic French Damietta would have given mo a wish to make a pilgrim- 
 age to it. 
 
 Half au hour afterwards we were rapidly travelling towards ^lont- 
 pellier. 
 
 Our cabriolet could only take us as far as Lunel, from which there 
 is a cross road to the poor decayed city, which is visited only by jioets, 
 historians and painters. As we advanced, the increasing flatness of 
 the ground showed that we were drawing near the sea. We soou 
 found ourselves in au immense marsh, interspersed with large pools 
 of water, in the centre of whicli were islands covered with weeds and 
 shrubs. In the horizon we perceived, on the left, a fine forest of 
 Italian ]iine, the king of the southern trees ; at its foot, and opposite 
 to us, a line of azure showed us wlicre the sea was, and on our right a 
 clump of trees overhung a farm, behind which the town was hidden 
 that we were proceeding to. The more we advanced the more dull 
 and sileut became the country round ; no living being, except some 
 heron we had frightened, and which rose with a shrill cry, or a white 
 seagull fluttering carelessly above the water, animated this solitude. 
 AVe at last found ourselves on a causeway which passed between two 
 ponds, each as large as a lake ; in the middle of the causeway stood 
 a tower,* a contemporary of St. Louis, open to all who passed, without 
 guards to defend it, and coloured by a tint like that of the fallen 
 leaf, which the southern sun gives to monuments it shines upon. 
 As we approached we saw a sort of custom house officer rise, the 
 feverish sentinel of this marshy entrance; but perceiving by our 
 costume and luggage that we were not smugglers, he sat down 
 again, trembling all over, on a chair placed in the sun against 
 the wall. A dog lying near him appeared to suffer hke hiinself 
 from the mephitic influence of this dull place. They formed 
 nn extremely melancholy gi-oup, in singular harmony with tlio 
 landscajie. 
 
 We approached this man, and, to enter into conversation, asked him 
 if it were far to Aiguesinortes ; he replied we should see the town in 
 ten minutes, and should be there in tliree quarters of an hour. We 
 then asked if he had been living there long ; he told us, about four 
 yeai's. He was robust and in good health when he came — four summers 
 * La tour Charbonnière.
 
 ISl THE SOUTH OF lU.VNCE 
 
 had sufliced to reduce liim to the sttito in which he then wr.s : he was 
 dying at the expense of the Government, and did not cost them nnicli.as 
 tliey only gave Mm a hundred crowns a-year lor it. We ex])ressed 
 our surprise that, knowing the eflccts of such a locality, he should 
 have accepted tliis jiost. " Wliat would you do ?" Sidd he ; " one 
 must iive." 
 
 We continued our way, admiring the height to which human resig- 
 nation can be earned, and, as the dying man had said, in ten minutes 
 ■we saw Aiguesmortes, or rather its walls ; for no house rises above 
 its ram])arts, and the Gothic city looks like a j^wel carefidly inclosed 
 in a casket of stone. 
 
 However great maybe the wish of the inhabitants of Aiguesmortes 
 to prove tliat their city was foimded by Marins, who, according to 
 Claudius Ptolemy, having fixed his camp on the Rhone, proiitod by 
 the leisure which the Teutons left him to make a canal from the 
 navigable part of the stream to the sea, for tlie convenience of the 
 boatmen who supplied his lu-my with provisions — the earliest nge 
 of which we find any real traces is the eighth centiuy, during which 
 the town of Matafère was bidlt, which tlie general history of Languedoc 
 says stood on the site of the present town. About the same time a 
 Benedictine abbey was built half a league from Ai^niesmortes, neat 
 the road Icadiug to Nismes; it was called Psalmodi, on account of the 
 perpetual chanting Jieard from the monks, which, says Gregory of 
 Touio, who calls it rxahcriiim jnrjntiiuiii, was then tlie custom ot 
 some convents This abbey, which was destroyed in 72r) by tho 
 Saracens, was rebuilt in 78s by (.'harlonngne, who added to it the 
 tower of Matafrre. After this tlie peasants of the neiglibourhood, 
 finding at the same ])laee spiritual and temjioral protection, built 
 their houses round tho fortress, whidi was not long before it changed 
 its name for that of the stagnant water surrounding it. 
 
 In tlie twelfth century the town of Aiguesmortes, under the jirotec- 
 tion of the monastery of J'salmodi and the Lords of Toulouse, had be- 
 come a maritime city. Bernard do 'J'revise, canon of Miiguelonue, 
 author of the romance of "Pierre do Provence," wlio lived about 
 llfio, nays, tliat in its harbour were vessels from Genoa, Constan- 
 tiii()i)le and Alexandria. Aslruc, indred, in his "Notes on tlie His- 
 tory of Langiu'doc," thinks that tliis jta.ssngo was iiittTjiolated by 
 IVlrarch. Thi.s is possible; but Aiguesmortes must then have been 
 of some iiiijiorlance, as St. Louis selected it in tho middle of tho 
 thirleentl» century as tho place in which the fleet lie was about to 
 command was to assemble. 
 
 At this point France was far from being the si/e it now is. It con- 
 sisted of only Orléanais, tlie Isle of Franco and Picanly, the original
 
 AIGUESMORTES. 185 
 
 domains of the crown ; Berry, bought by Philip I. ; Normandy and 
 Touraine, confiscated from King John by Phihp Augustus; and it was 
 not till five and twenty years after that Philip the Bold inherited 
 Languedoc, so that it possessed no port on the Mediterranean. 
 
 Louis IX. began by securing that of Marseilles, wliicli was offered 
 to him by bis sister-in-law, Beatrice, Conntess of Provence. But as 
 this was not enough for him, as Montpellier and its dependencies were 
 held from the King of Arragon, as the old port of Agde and the new 
 port of St. Gilles belonged to the Count of Toulouse, a troublesome 
 and heretic vassal, ho proposed that the Abbot of Psalmodi should 
 give him the port of Aiguesmortes in exchange for a vast extent of 
 territory which be possessed near Sommiéres, on the borders of the 
 Vidourle. The ofier was accepted, and the act of cession executed in 
 August, 1240 ; it was then that, to encourage new settlers to come to the 
 town he had just obtained, Louis IX., by letters patent given in 1240, 
 enfranchised the inhabitants of Aiguesmortes from all contributions 
 and im])osts, from all voluntary or forced loans, and from any toll upon 
 their productions throughout the royal domains ; exempted them from 
 mihtaiy service beyond the dioceses of Nismes, Uzès, and ^laguc- 
 lonne ; gave them the free use of the fisheries and pasturage round 
 the town, as well as tlie privilege of shooting over then- own territory ; 
 and finally recognised their right of electing annually from among 
 themselves four consuls, who were invested with the municipal autho- 
 rity, the king only reserving the light of nominating the Judge, whom 
 he engaged not to select from among the inhabitants of the town, and 
 appointing the Capitaine Yiguier Châtelain. These privileges, wliich 
 were immense at that age, had the result Louis IX. expected from them; 
 inhabitants tiocked to the free town. The port, restored entirely at the 
 expense of the monuments of the neighbom-hood, and even, if we are to 
 believe Gariel, of the old tombs of the church of Maguclonne, received 
 about the middle of the year 1248, a numerous fleet, which was joined 
 in the month of August by Louis IX. himself, preceded by the Ori- 
 flamme, and wearing the scrip and shovel-hat which were the insignia 
 of pilgrimage. On the 25th of August, 1000 of the king's vessels came 
 with 36,000 soldiers, left the roads, and set sail for the island of Cy- 
 prus, where they were to be joined by the rest of the fleet which had 
 set out from Marseilles. On one of the eight hundred vessels which 
 went from the harbour of the last-named city, was, as he himself 
 tells us, the Sire do Joinville, the simple and poetic historian of this 
 crusade. 
 
 Everyone knows how the enterprise failed, althou;:;h they took 
 Damieita ; how during the sojourn they made in this city, while 
 waiting for the fall of the waters of the Nile, and the succours which
 
 \<ii THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 the Coiiut lie Poitiei-s was to bring from France — " the soldiers of ihe 
 Lord corruptod themselves to such a degree," says Joinville, " that 
 debaiicliory and excesses were ciu'ried on by tlie royal servants close 
 to tlio king's pavilion ;" and liow after the victory of Mansonrah, in 
 wliich the Count of Artois was killed, famine, illness and wildliro 
 made such ravages in the Cluistian army tliat, not being able 
 to advance against Cairo, Louis IX. was obliged to retire. It 
 was during this retreat that the king was surrounded and made 
 prisoner at Minieli ; he was afterwards taken to Mansonrah, where 
 the Sultan offered ti) restore him to liberty for 8000 bezants. " A 
 king of France," replied Louis, " does not ransom himself for money, 
 Le must be exchanged for an emi)eror or a town. Take Damietta for 
 my ransom, and the 8000 gold bezants for that of my army." Not- 
 withstanding the death of the Sultan, which happened during the 
 negotiations, tlie treaty was concluded on the same conditions 
 between the Mamelukes and tlie haugliticst Christian ever seen in 
 the East. The king embarked directly for Alexandria, but instead of 
 returning to France sot sail for the Holy Land, where he remained 
 th.ree months, constantly expecting supplies of men and money from 
 Europe; but they never came. It was there that, in Vib.i, he heard 
 of tiie death of his mother ; this intelligence made him determine to 
 return to France. He embarked at St. Jean d'Acre, and landed at 
 the Islands of Hieres, July 17, 1254. 
 
 Louis IX., who, hoping for a second crusade, continued to wear a 
 cross upon his dress, succeeded in restoring peace to tlie kingdom ; 
 but tranquillity was hardly cstablislicd in France when he convoked 
 tlie Parliament of Paris, j)resented himself before it, bearing in liis 
 hands the crown of thorns of our Saviour, and ordered a second 
 crusade. It was then tliat he formed tiie design of surrounding the 
 town of Aiguesmortes with ramixirts; and as the Sovereign Poulill' 
 bad been born at St. Ciilies, and before attaining the papal throne 
 had been successively a soldier, advocate to the Parliament of Paris, 
 and secretary to the king, he spoke to him of his jilans. 
 
 It was wjiile the king held his court at St. (Jilles, wliile waiting 
 for tlie Genoese vessel, and it was among the /vU's given to the 
 ambassadors of Michel Paloologue, that tlie line where tiie fortifica- 
 tions were to bo was marked out round Aiguesmortca. Tiio king 
 wished them to bo of the appearance, size, and height of llioso of 
 I>auiie(ta, tliat tliey might serve as a iiKMuorial of the victory wliicli 
 had iislicred in bis fiist cnisiidc. 15ut just as the first stones were 
 uboul to be liiid, the vessels tliey were e,\pceting arrived, commanded 
 by Count Aifotiso, and decided [hr departure of the king. 
 
 On the 1st of July, l;i70, St. ixmis quitted tlie shores of France,
 
 AIGUESMORTKS. 1^7 
 
 and on the 25th of the following August expii'cd on a bed of ashes at 
 the very spot where the messenger of Home found Marins sitting on 
 the ruins of Carthage. 
 
 " Aud." says Joinville, " as God died for liis people, so also did iho 
 holy King Louis put his body in danger, and risk death ibr the people 
 of his kingdom." 
 
 A faithful heir, as he had been a pious son and a brave soldier, 
 Philip the Bold was no sooner on the throne than he remembered lii>i 
 father's wishes witli regard to Aiguesmortes. By his orders the circlt» 
 of ramparts which still suiTounds it was built according to the jilau 
 decided on, so that we may even now, on seeing ils walls, over which 
 eight centuries have passed, rebuild the Eastern city which we should 
 vainly seek at the mouth of the Nile. 
 
 You can easily form an idea of the curiosity w-ith which we ap- 
 proached these historical ramparts, which, in addition to their won- 
 derful associations, are the most perfect model of fortifications left by 
 the religious and military civilisation of the tliirteenth century 
 Aiguesmortes is associated with more recent events than those we 
 have given a short account of; the treason of Louis deMalaque, who 
 fur a short period delivered these holy walls up to the Burgundians; a 
 political interview between Charles V. and Francis I. ; a forest burnt 
 by Barbarossa ; the poisoning of the Calvinists in the Tower of Con- 
 stance ; and a canal constructed by the orders of Louis XV. But 
 what were all these little anecdotes to us, after the magniliccnt pages 
 written by Louis IX. and Philip the Bold on the stone book whicli 
 lay open before us ? 
 
 We entered Aiguesmortes by the castle gate, and it was then that 
 the t)"uth of lleboul's description struck me : — 
 
 "Et puis nous irons voir, car decadence et deuil 
 Viennent toujours après la puissance et l'orgueil, 
 Nous irons voir auprès de l'eau stalionnaire 
 Aigues-Morte aux vingt tours, la citû poitrinaire. 
 Qui meurt comme un hibou dans le creux de son nid, 
 Comme dans son armure un chevalier jauni ; 
 Comme un soleil d'été qu'il croit être propice 
 Un mendiant fiévreux dans la cour d'un hospice," 
 
 Aiguesmortes, wliich contained within its walls ten thousand inha- 
 bitants, is reduced to a population of two thousand six hundred ; and 
 as its stone inclosure cannot diminish as tlie town decays, one quarter 
 of the houses are closed, the second is in ruins, the third portion is 
 again employed for the purposes of agriculture, having been laid 
 out in gardens and ploughed fields, while the fourth contains the 
 remainder of these unhapjiy people, who, decimated by fever, are
 
 IS8 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE 
 
 dving away in houses wliicli are obliged to be plastered uj) every year, 
 so damp and penetrating is the atmosphere. As to the inhabitants, 
 their ancient privileges, the situation of their town in a nuirsh, and 
 the niephitic air they breathe, liave had as great and as visible an 
 effect on their dispositions as on their ajipearanee. Do not seek in 
 the Aiguesmortians the ardent vivacity of tiie Southerns, the spirit 
 and life which are in the words and gestures of the I.anguedocians 
 and Proveiioals. No ; they wUl tell you with the sad, slow accent of 
 the North, " they cannot waste their energies, not having more 
 strcngtli than is requisite for life." 
 
 We had gi'eat trouble to lind an inn, for Aiguesmortes having 
 neither manufactures nor commerce, and fishing and hunting like 
 savage tribes only for its own necessities, is visited perhaps once in 
 tlie year by some artist or poet who comes ivverently with ]>en or 
 pencil in liis hand to seek the traces of the royal pilgrim whoso 
 memory still lives in this dead city. Happily, we remembered a 
 letter Itelioul had given us for the mayor of Aiguesmortes. M. .lean 
 Vigne ; and wo stopped the preparations for dimier till we had taken 
 it to its address. Ahundred blessings on our gi-eat ]met ! for never was 
 a letter of introduction better received. M. Vigno had hardly taken 
 time to read it than ho declared wo should have no other host than 
 1 imsf^lf, and put liis table and bouse at our disposal. 
 
 If our readei-s have ever travelled they know what it is to arrive 
 fatigued and dying with hunger in a strange town, where often 
 iK.ithor bed, dinner, nor cicerone are found. Then you hiwe to wnnder 
 dissatisfied and ill-tempered, ]>assing wiiliout knowing it by most 
 interesting ])laces, like those restless sjiirits in whose hands money 
 has not been jtlaced to pay their ])assage over the Acheron ; then 
 after a day of weariness y<iu leave tlie town, not carrying from it a 
 single association, except, indeed, that of the disagreeable hours you 
 liave spent there. If, on the contrary, howover harassed or annoyed 
 you may have been on the road, you meet witli a good tiible, a good 
 bed, a ]>leiisantJiost with nn intelligent countenance and a rich and 
 well stored memory, evei-jihing around seems to smile and to find a 
 Vdice; traditions nuiltiply on your rniid ; your time is too short for all 
 the places you have to visit, all the talcs you have to hear. Days 
 pnHs rapidly and jdeasanlly in the centre of this new fnmily that 
 liospilnlily lias created, and you leiive the town that has received 
 you as you woidd leave a second native city which has been un- 
 known to you; ami where you Imve finnd forgotten frii-nds carrving 
 with you fur life the memory of the friendsliip of a few hours. 
 
 This was what hn|)pened to n« nt .\iguesmorlrs, and we must Bay 
 dttring most of the towns we visited during our journey. It is only
 
 AIGUESMORTES. Ib'J 
 
 in Paris that hospitality is an unknown virtue ; for in Paris wo must 
 own no ono has more time, room, or money than he wants for 
 liimself. 
 
 Our liost had all these at oiu' service. Wc only accepted, it is true, 
 his time, apartments, and his dinners, but we used these freely, and 
 without any ceremony. He was going to sit down to dinner when we 
 aiTived ; two more covers were brought, and we took immediate pos- 
 session of our privileges as travellers with good introductions. 
 
 We saw with pleasure that our host, though mayor of Aiguesmortes, 
 did not appear to feel the influence of the air which affected his 
 officers. We smcerely congratulated him upon it, and he explained 
 to us that these much-dreaded fevers only affected those unhappy 
 beings who after long and painful labour did not find at home tlio 
 wholesome food and warm shelter which in all countries are the first 
 requisites for healtli ; all persons possessing any fortune, and being 
 able to take the most common precautions, escaped, he assured us, as 
 he had done, from the scourge. He had inhabited Aiguesmortes forty 
 years with impunity, and he hoped to inhabit it forty more without 
 any illness. We joined in the wish with our whole hearts, as we 
 withdrew to the rooms he had prepai'ed for us, with the cunning fore- 
 sight of the most cordial hospitality. 
 
 We were sleeping soundly in the best beds that we had had since 
 our de]iarturc from Paris, when our host entered the room at eight 
 o'clock the next morning. 
 
 " We must acknowledge that you are in luck," said he. 
 
 " We have seen that already," I replied, extendmg my hand, though 
 still half asleep. 
 
 "I was not alluding to that; do you know what I have just 
 been told ?' 
 
 " No, indeed !" 
 
 " That, moving some earth from behind the Chaussée du Yidoarle, 
 they havejust discovered the hidl of a galley belonging to St. Louis." • 
 
 " What is that you are saying ?" 
 
 " They have come this instant to inform me of it. Should you 
 like to see the man who brings the intelligence ?" 
 
 " Certainly ! Make haste, Jadiu, you idle fellow !" 
 
 " I hear," answered Jadiu ; " but I am elressing !" 
 
 " François !" 
 
 A man came in. " Well, friend," continued our host, " what have 
 you come to tell us ? ' 
 
 " I came to tell you that in turning up the earth we laid bare a 
 large boat, ten times as long as this room; and M. René de Bernis, 
 our master, said to me, ' Go and tell the mayor of Aiguesmortes that
 
 190 THK SOUTH OK IP.ANCE. 
 
 we found near the old caual a boat of St Louis ;' so 1 caiuo, and 
 tliat is all 1" 
 
 "Is it far from here to where tliis galley is to he found ".'" 
 
 " Not more than a quarter of an hours walk, at the most." 
 
 " We had better go there, then," said I, jumping out of bed. 
 
 " You have time for your breakfast fii-st, oi the devil is in it !" 
 
 " Yes, provided breakfast is not in the same style as tlio dinner 
 yesterday !" 
 
 " Don't be uneasy. You will only liave a chop, a glass of wine, 
 and a cup of coffee. It will bo ready by the time you come down." 
 
 " For tliougli I only arrived yesterday, I know yoiu- table as well as 
 if 1 made out your bill of fare myself" 
 
 " And you are not pleased with it ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, I am too well pleased with it." 
 
 " Well, don't be uneasy ; to-day you shall have a sailor's dinner.'" 
 
 *' Indeed ! Wliere ?" 
 
 " At the Grau du lloi." 
 
 " On my honour, you arc a delightful man ! and if wo have break- 
 fasted in half an hour, we will make you a wreath of oak-leaves !" 
 
 Everyone made haste, and when we went down all was ready ; 
 ten minutes afterwards we were on our journey. We were in such 
 Jiaste to reacli the wonderful galley that we deferred making a tour 
 of the ram))arts to another day. We went out by the door opposite 
 that we entered by, and bad hardly passed tln'ough it before wo 
 jierceivcd tlio Mediterranean williin three-quarters of a league 
 from us. 
 
 "Tliis,"said I to M. Vigne, " is tlie distance the sea has retired, 
 then ?" 
 
 " Oh," eplied be, " it seems you labour under the general error, and 
 tliink tliftt in the time of St. Louis tlio sea bathed our ram])arts." 
 
 •' Why, Voltaire and Bull'on say so Ono in his J'Liiidi sur li'n 
 Mains it If.ipril (Ifs Xudtni.i ; tlio other, in his 'Théorie de Id 
 Terre." 
 
 " Well, lioth are mistaken. If you like," eontiuned our ('(uubiclnr 
 inteirujiling himself, " we will get iiitn tliis boat; our sliortesl way 
 is to eross tlie pond of La Marette. " 
 
 "Very well! You say, tlieii, tliat Hiilli)n and Voltaire W(>re wrong?" 
 
 " Certainly ! Tliere was a time when the Mediterranean covered 
 tlio Kpot where wo now are, and even extended at least a league 
 ^teyond Aigiicsmortes — theso pools and marslies arc a ))roof of it ; l>ut 
 tliiH was anterior to the time of St. Louis, or even Marins. On the 
 contrary, everything ])roveH that in the thirteenth century the sea had 
 retired to witliin its present limits; and Aignesmortes was, as now,
 
 AiGt;ESMOi;Ti:s. 101 
 
 situated ubout a league from the sliore. One of tlie most irn'fracjalile 
 proofs of wiiat I say, and 1 could give you several, is, that there is 
 preserved in our archives a report made under King John, in l-^fWÎ, 
 that is, ninety-three years after the death of St. Louis, to establish 
 the state of the port and the repaii-s that were necessary. In this it 
 was proved by the evidence of the old men, some of whom were 
 coteniporaries of Philip the Bold, and whose fatlicrs liad witnessed 
 the embarkation of the king, that they had seen tlie old canal whicli 
 went from Aiguesmortos to tlie sea in such good condition that vessels 
 and large boats could easily, and without danger, approach the city ; 
 and that since it had been blocked up, sailors would not come to its 
 entrance, at the j)lace called Bouranet, for fear of being robbed there. 
 The old canal," continued M. Vigne, " is that which wo shall enter 
 on leaving the mere of La Marette, where wo are at present ; and it is 
 so iniiversally acknowledged by popular tradition to be the waj'' taken 
 by the galleys of the Crusaders, that from time immemorial its mouth 
 has borne the appellation of Grau Louis." 
 
 " But," said I, inteiTupting him, "what is the meaning of those 
 iron rings wliich we saw as we passed by, attached to the walls of tlie 
 town ? Of what use were they unless ships were fastened to them?" 
 
 "That is a fact which has given rise to the generally-received 
 error," returned our learned cicerone. " Aiguesmortes had certainly 
 a port under its walls, but, if I may be allowed the expression, it was 
 an internal port, namely, the sheet of water belonging to the town, 
 from which, even at the present day, it is only a few paces distant, 
 and which, thanks to the works executed by the king, was deep 
 enough to receive men-of-war. These vessels entered the old canal by 
 the Grau'- Louis, and following the canal as far as its junction with 
 tlie Grand Roubiue, flowed, by an opening which I will point out to 
 you, into the above-mentioned sheet of water." 
 
 " This certainly explains everything." 
 
 " At jtresent I will make a few concluding remarks on the manner, 
 not in which the sea has retreated from the land, but in which the 
 land has driven back the sea; a fact of which you may easily satisfy 
 yourself by an inspection of the place. One of the arms of the Bhone. 
 which, as you are aware, brandies out into two streams at Arit-», 
 changing tlie Camargue into an island, aftenvards flows into the sea 
 near Aiguesmortes. \Yell, the Little Bhone, as it is called, carries down 
 in its waters a mass of land, gi-avel, and other matter, which being 
 thrown back upon the bank by the eastern current, keeps adding 
 to tlie shore and forms sandbanks, the interstices between which 
 are at first under water, but eventually dry up and form the moving 
 * Trom " ijradus/' a iiass.nge.
 
 198 THE SOLTU OF FRANCE. 
 
 sands or dowus whicli we shall see ou our retiu-n. At present, how- 
 ever, W6 liave something else to occupy us, for we have reached our 
 destination." 
 
 Tliis was true; for, landing on the right bank of the old canal, wo 
 walked along it for some distance, and tlien, crossing a naiTOw swamp, 
 arrived at the banks of the Vidourle, where, a foot above tlie Hnipid 
 waves of tlie river, we beheld the forepart of a slii]) or rather large 
 bark, the stern of wliich was still hidden beneath the sand which had 
 not been deai'ed awaj'. Tlie portion of the vessel which wo could see 
 was sixty-three feet in length, while its greatest breadth was nine feet, 
 and its height from the bottom of the keel to the toji of the sides throe 
 feet. The portion of the vessel that was concealed could not, judging 
 from the narrowing of the bottom, have been more than soven or I'ight 
 feet at the most, which would make altogether a total length of 
 seventy-two or seventy-four feet. I felt convinced, from ray fii"st hasty 
 examination of the vessel, that it was merely a bark and not a ship of 
 any size ; the ships of this period, as wo know by tiie drawings of tliom 
 in the manuscripts of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, being 
 nuich more curved and substantial, aud being provided also with u 
 raised foret-astle and poop. 
 
 Tiio question now suggests itself. What is this bark? Is it merely 
 a vessel constructed to convey troops from Aigucsmortes to the Gran 
 Louis? Tins would be probable if its elongated form did not assign 
 it to a period when the art of ship-building was yet in its infancy, and 
 if it did not bear a resemblance to the long canoes of the youthern 
 hemisjihero. But at the time of which wo are treating, Genoa, which 
 was the ]ilaco whence St. Louis procured liis trans])orts, was so far 
 advanced in matters relating to navigation, that the primitive forms 
 must have undergone considerable moditications. The most prol>ahlo 
 su]ii)osition therefore is, that the bark was merely one that had been 
 (•oii?-tnu't»'d by the fislipiiiicn of the coast, whoso industry and skill tlio 
 jiilgrim king endeavoured, no doubt, to turn to account. Wliatever 
 it may have been, liowever, it is, nt any rate, a curious relic of tlio 
 commercial civilisation of our forefathers. 
 
 We remained for two or three hours nrru]iied in takingthe length, 
 bn-ndtli, and depth of the vessel, and thru set oflT towards the mouth 
 of the old cannl, at present blocked up with sand. Soon afterwards, 
 we nrrivi-d at the place called tlie tombs, where the earth soinided 
 hollow beneath our feet. It was hen-, if popular tradition may bo 
 believed, that those Crusaders wlio died diuing the occasions that tho 
 king slopped at Aitfuesmortcs were buried. I'nssingon, in ten minutes 
 more we reached tlii' shores of the Mediicnnuean. 
 
 AltlKnigh I was familiar with the fiinir cxteniHVi, as it was called,
 
 AIGI;E3.M0RTF.S. 133 
 
 by the ancients, having traversed all the northern and western coast 
 of France, from Le Havre to the Bay of Biscay, this was the first time 
 that I had ever bolield the Mediterranean. I recognised the azure 
 daughter of Oceanus and Doris, the blonde Aiuphitrite, that fantastic 
 goddess, whose anger is as rapid and unexpected as the whim of a 
 coquet while it as temhle as the vengeance of a queen. 
 
 The tombs over which we had just trodden, and the name of the 
 Idng given to the old canal, which at present is lost among tlie sands, 
 ai-e the only two monuments which remain, the one for the eyes, the 
 other for tlic mind, of the poetic passage of the pilgrim king, the 
 walls of Aiguesmortes, as we have already mentioned, having been 
 built by Philip the Bold. 
 
 A bark was in waiting for us, having been politely sent by our host 
 to spare us a useless walk. We all three went on boai'd, and tho 
 sailors having hoisted their triangular sail, and coasting along at a 
 distance of about five-hundred paces from the land, doubled the light- 
 house and entered triumphantly the Grau Louis. 
 
 It was Louis XV. who gave orders for the commencement of this new 
 cauaJ, which now runs fi-om Aiguesmortes to the sea, and which has 
 become tlie real port of the town. The unfortunate place, which coidd 
 boast of nothing but the recollection of its king, had been completely 
 lost sight of by the Government during the reigns of Louis XIII. and 
 Louis XIV. It is true that Henry IV. had issued directions for 
 certain works, as soon as the Edict of Nantes, promulgated in 1598, 
 had restored some degi-ee of tranquillity to the country ; but the States 
 of Languedoc had conceived, about the same time, the project of a 
 port at the Cape of Cette This project being backed by the influence 
 of the Provost-General of Provence, proved more tiian a match for the 
 king's good intentions; and Ai.guesmortes, beaten in the contest by her 
 young rival, was again doomed to remain a victim to the deadly exha- 
 lations from all the sm-roundiug swamps and marshes, whose waters 
 coidd no longer find then" way to tho sea for want of proper outlets. 
 Tlie consequence was that all the inhabitants who -^ere in easy cir- 
 cumstances deserted their town, while their poorer brethren, discou- 
 raged and eaten up by misery and disease, remained behind, to die 
 before the time allotted as the limit of human life. 
 
 At last the Government, which had not made itself at all uneasy at 
 this fearful depopulation, perceived that its own interest was affected. 
 Hands were wanting to work tho salt-mines of Peccais ; so that the 
 king's officers, who, indeed, no longer ventured to approach Aigues- 
 mortes, were obliged to fill their storehouses elsewhere. The State 
 cared nothing for the deserted and dying town, but it cared for that 
 branch of the revenue which its agonies were destroying. 
 
 N
 
 I'jl THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 A decree of Louis XV., dated the 1-ltli of August, 17-25, ordered i\w 
 construction of a caual, the expense of whicli was to be paid by au 
 increase in tlie tax u])ou salt of live sous for every three bushels. The- 
 work was begun iiiuuediately, and linished twenty years afterwards. 
 Two stone piei-s, at about two fathoms distance from each otlier, raid 
 extending in a parallel direction a hundi-ed and iifty yards into the 
 sea, protect the stream of water to wliich the Yistre and Yidoiu'le, which 
 empty themselves here, give a coiu'so which not only carries it into 
 tlie sea, but also drives back the licaps of sand which, witliout this 
 repelling i^ower, would necessarily form at its moutli. 
 
 We left the boat near tlie lightliousc just as a custom-house officer, 
 wJio was fisliing with a line, was in the height of a struggle with an 
 enormous sea-wolf, whicli liad not bitten the bait, but liad swallowed it. 
 The poor man dared not i)ull the animal out of tho water ou account 
 of the rod at the end of which he was struggling ; ho therefore paid 
 every imaginable attention to the prisoner, who threatened to break 
 liis cliain. He gave out more line, took it back again, gave it out 
 again, brought him to tiic surface of the water, then permitted him to 
 return into its depths. Tho perspiration stood in largo drops on tho 
 IJshermau. We took advantage of this to make a bargain with him ; 
 we offered a cro\\'n for the fish, caught or not caught, taking the risk 
 upon ourselves. The baigaiu was struck ; he took his three francs 
 in one hand, and with the other gave us the rod. Wo continued tho 
 same play, drawing him, as the custom-house ollieer had done, gently 
 towards tlie surface of the w'att^r. .lust as ho ap^icared, .Jadiu, wlio 
 was waiting for him with my carbine, sent a bullft tiirougb iiis body, 
 which terminated tho contest. He struggled for a moment longer, 
 but these were merely convulsions of death, and sliortly afterwards he 
 mudo his appearance lloatiug with his belly upwards ujion the water. 
 As, however, the tackle to which be was attached could not be 
 trusted to convey him the distance of trn or twelve feet between tho 
 summit of the road and the level of tho canal, wo launched a boat to 
 l)ick up the docea.sed, who weighed seven or eiglit pounds, and was 
 iiisUuitaneously destined to form the ]>rincipal feature in a bouillo- 
 abaitise. 
 
 Ji()iiilleabais.-.e is to the iuhabitauts of Langueiloc and I'rovcnco 
 what liio polenta is to the Milanese, and maecuroni ti> liic Neapolitans; 
 with tliia diH'erence, however, thai wiiile tlie ]iolenla and nuiccanmi 
 jioKsesH all tho characteristics of primitive and aiilediluvian sim)ili- 
 cily, bouilleabuisso is tho result of the most advanced state of 
 culinary civilisation, comprising in itself a whole epic of unexpected 
 cpihodcH and exlraordinai^y incidents. 'J'here is, perliajis no person in 
 the nietr()poli.H, excejit Mery, who can inform you how nuiuy dillerent 
 
 1 
 
 1
 
 AIGUESMONTES. 
 
 kinds of fisli, polypi, and other deni/cns of the briny main are reqni- 
 site to jiroducc this dish ; and at what precise moment tlie saucepan 
 containing it must be taken Irom the lire, in order that it may con- 
 scientiously lay claim to its title of bouille-abaisse. 
 
 Our host would not allow anyone but his sailors to have share in 
 the preparation of this national dish, of which he was desirous that 
 our reminiscences should bo worthy of its reputation, and even then 
 he reserved for himself the superintendence of the whole. The con- 
 sequence was, that Jadin and I were left to ourselves for a couple of 
 hours ; Jadin went off to the midst of the mountains of moving sands 
 wliich skirt the sea on one side, and the few houses of the Grau du 
 Koi on the other, to select a suitable point for making a sketch of the 
 town ; while I ascended to the liighest point of the lighthouse, ill 
 order to enjoy at one glance the panorama of the whole coast. 
 
 On reaching the storey above the beacon-lantern, I commanded the 
 whole flat country around. At my feet were the ten or twelve houses 
 which constitute the little port of the Grau du Roi, and, a little 
 further on, the mountains of sand, in the midst of which I perceived 
 Jadin seated at liis work ; while, on all sides of him, herds of tlie 
 black bulls of the Camargue galloped by, raising clouds of dust 
 beneath their hoofs ; and followed by theii" drovers, armed with lances, 
 and mounted on small white horses that are said to be of Arabian 
 descent, and left by the Saracens dm-ing their sojourn in the South. 
 Stili further on were the ponds of the Reposet, the Conniume du Roi, 
 the town, and the Marette ; their motionless and deep blue waters, 
 interspersed with tongues of land and planted with rushes and tama- 
 risks, appeared to possess the solidity of a plate of burnished steel. 
 Beyond these rose the walls of the town, hiding the houses beyond 
 tliem — the houses, as we have already said, having only one storey 
 besides the gi-ouud-floor. The eye is guided towards the walls by the 
 large canal which connects the town, with the sea. It was covered 
 with empty vessels made fast to its banks, and floating on the smface 
 like so many immense dead fish. Lastly, on the horizon rose the 
 Ventoux, with its summit covered with snow, like some hoary ad- 
 vanced sentinel of the great chain of the Alps. 
 
 I remained at the top of tlie lighthouse, contemplating this sti'auge 
 landscape, of V.'hose solitude and sadness notliiug can ever convey an 
 adequate idea, until the signal for dinner — a musket-shot — was given 
 by our jninctual Amphytrion. I saw Jadin, sensitively alive to the 
 appeal, ]tack up his baggage and set off to the jJace of rendezvous ; 
 as for myself, I had merely to go down staii's, as the table was laid in 
 the lighthouse itself. 
 
 The bouille-abaisse was Homeric. 
 
 N 2
 
 195 IHE SOLI» OF FRANCE. 
 
 Immediately alter diuner we ouce agaiu weut up to om- Belvedere, 
 in order to enjoy tlie spectacle of ilio settiug sua. Tlie atmosphere 
 was so marvellously clear that, to the west, we could tlistinguish the 
 whole exteut of coast from Montpolier to Perpiguau, aud b«youd the 
 coast, like a cloud — a shatlow, a mere vapoui" — the i'yreuees ; to the 
 east, the wliole delta of the Camargue ; to the south, the immensity 
 of the ocean, tliat glistened as if on lire ; aud to the uortli, the 
 eastern town biilliautly lighted up by the last rays of the suu. 
 
 For nearly half an hoiu- did the wiiole horizon preserve its golden 
 tint, aud the sea its hue of lii-c. liut shortly after that time the suu 
 set in the west, aud the shades of night seemed to rise up from the 
 eartli. Gradually the sea resumed its bluish colour, aud the town 
 its veil of grey; the upper portions of Yeutoux alone riinaiued illu- 
 minated, mitil at last only its extreme summit ghstoued like a 
 volcano, and then even this lust llame — a type of luuuau life — was 
 extinguished in its turn ; and over the whole limdscape, already 
 invaded by tlie gloom, night at last reigucd supreme. 
 
 We reached the town by the banks of the canal. When wo had 
 arrived at the extremity of the pond of the llcposet, Mousieur Vigne 
 took us a few paces to the right and pointed out the remains of an old 
 wall whicii most probably dates from the twelftli or thirteenth century. 
 These ruins, called "La Poyrade," are another lu'oof that in the time of 
 the Crusades the sea did not extend as far as Aiguesmortes. 
 
 There are very few roads as melauclioly as that from the Grau du 
 Roi to tlio town ; aud, on this occasion, llio twiliglit renderi'd it more 
 80 than usual. We did not meet a single person for tiio wiiole three 
 fpiarttrs of a league, altliough. hoiîi time to lime, wo saw on our right 
 hand a few miserable huts witli tla'ir mouldering bases batiied in iJio 
 btagnaut waters of the ponds, and also, from time to time, we belield on 
 oiu' left a tlasli of lire followed by the report of lire-arms, and proceed- 
 ing from some sportsman on tlie look-out for the ducks aud black- 
 divers, which i)roceed cainieiously hi troops of two or three hundred 
 from one pond to the other, and in passing over the tamarisk-covered 
 islands deliver themselves up to the fowling-pieces of the peasants ; for 
 all till! iiilialtilants of Aiguesmortes, who were emun(i)tiiled by iSaint 
 Louis, have preserved the right of siiootiug and lishiug, aud have 
 ihcir nets and gun in their house or cabin. 
 
 It was hardly eight o'clock wiien we reached Aiguesmortes, yet every 
 window was closiul and every door hliut; not a single light was tiieie 
 to tell of lilo in this vast corpse. We passed tlirougli several streets 
 a» dew'.rted as those of llerculaneum and I'onqieii, and at last arrived 
 ■it the iiouso of our entertainer; and iioliiing but the merry lights 
 that were awaiting our return, and the friendly looks of our host's
 
 AIGUESMÛIîTKS. 197 
 
 brother, who had come to pass the evening with ns, could have re- 
 moved the weight of melancholy by which we were oppressed. 
 
 We devoted the following morning to making a tour of the walls 
 and the inspection of the town. ïlie first occupied us about ibrty 
 minutes, and the second two hours. The walls, as we have before re- 
 marked, ai-e in a wonderful state of preservation ; as for the town, 
 tliere is not a single object worthy of notice in it, and its churches of 
 tlie Pénitents Gris and the Pénitents Blancs merit neither the name 
 of public buildings nor the tiouble of paying them a visit. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon wo bade adieu to our cicerone, 
 who, however, hospitable to the last, would not leave us before we 
 were ensconced in tlie coach that goes to Beaucaire, and which was to 
 set us down, by the way, at Saint (iilles.
 
 *>.t>- jii)>f5iTÏ?*.^^'-Sw*'— 
 
 TiiK MAi;sr. T('Wi:k, nismi-s. 
 
 CIIAl'TKll XXJl, 
 
 i;u.\:.i)iNO Tin: liLLi.s. 
 
 The canal of ]ioaucairc nins paralhl wiili tlic lessor Rliono, ami 
 i-oii6cqiicntly lioiilors I-a Cainiiif^'uo. Intortuiintcly, as it is inclosed 
 l>y two cauKcways, botli of wliicli arc twelvo or fiftocn ft'ot liipli, it is 
 jiiipossiMc to soo anytliiii(^ hut tlin two liorscswljicli draw tlic )>nssiii;i'- 
 Ixiat and tlio man wlio drives tlioni. AVlion wo liad cxliausti'd all the 
 allcin])ts BiiRpostcd to us l>y our iniaf-iunlion to sec tlio country rouml, 
 iiiid won^ convinced that it was decidedly iuipossiMe, wo deterniined 
 what to do. .iadin and I took nur seats at separate tables; he employed 
 himself with his sketch of Aif^ucsmortes, and I airanged the notes J 
 liad made durin>( the two days wo had just spent thore. Travellinfî 
 in Uiis way has one advantage, that the niovomont being almost im- 
 )>erceptiblo, yr»u can write or draw as you )irocood. Certainly the 
 hociety you meet with there is but little disposed to mcditîition, but
 
 BRANDING THE BULLS. 1£9 
 
 on this occiibiou we were almost alone ; so that, what with writing find 
 drawing, we readied St. Gilles sooner tlian we expected. 
 
 St. Gilles was formerly named llhode, and llhode was one of the 
 two towns huilt by the llhodians, who, our readers may remember, 
 tried to follow out the Phœnician civilisation in Gaul. One of its 
 bishops, who bore tlie LatinnamcofEgidius, which wc have changed 
 into Gilles, was the godfather of the Christian town, in which no 
 ancient monuments ai'o to be found, if we except some inscriptions, 
 the remains of some columns, and two or three capitals of porphyry. 
 However, the church of St. Gilles is the most complete monument of 
 Byzantine art preserved not only in France, but perhaps in Europe. 
 
 Besides the attraction of art, the church of St. Gilles has also that 
 of historical associations. It was in this porch that Raymond VI., sur- , 
 named the Old, nephew of King Louis, surnamed the Young, and 
 brother-in-law to Richard Cœur de Lion, abjured the Waldensian 
 heresy, and did jienance for the death of Pien-e de Castelnau, legate 
 of Poiie Innocent II., who had been assassinated,if notby theCounfs 
 order at least without his opposition, and without his endeavouring to 
 punish the murderers. 
 
 Under the basilisk is a subterraneous church, no less interesting 
 than the upjier one. It contains two sanguinary memorials of religious 
 hatred : one the tomb of Pierre de Castelnau, assassinated by the 
 V'audois, the other the well into which the Protestants tlirew the 
 «horisters of the church, who exclaimed in falling, " Hosanna! 
 Christe, fill Dei, miserere nobis !" 
 
 We spent the whole of the Saturday morning in examining the 
 church, and we were not able to set off for Nismes till nearly two 
 o'clock. As the village of St. Gilles had neither horses nor carnage 
 to offer us, we started on foot. 
 
 Fortunately, a walk of twelve miles was not calculated to alarm us ; 
 on the contrary, wc embraced with gi-eat pleasure this opportunity of 
 seeing tlie country foot by foot ; and had it not been for tlio impossi- 
 bility of carrying with us the luggage necessary for a year's journey, 
 I thiidv we should never have adopted any otlier mode of travelling. 
 Indeed, I ask all who have travelled with the poet's allium in their 
 hand, or the artist's ])ortfolio on their shoulder, what happiness is 
 <'.omparable to that of this wandering life, so free in itself, which turns 
 indifferently to any point of the horizon, stops where it finds a harvest, 
 leaves at the slightest weailness, without regi-et for yesterday, can-ying 
 sufficient for the wants of the day, and without fear for to-morrow ; 
 ■certain that every morning will bring its dew, every noon its sun, and 
 every evening its twilight and its refreshing coolness? I have never uu- 
 «derstood why those who might always travel are those who travel tlie least.
 
 200 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 As for mo, I confess that the most delightful recollections of my 
 life are those of these expeditions through Switzerland, Germany, 
 France, Italy, Corsica, Sicily, and Calabria, either with a friend or alone 
 with my thoughts. Those ohjects which, when seen, ajipear but 
 commonplace, take when recalled to the mind a poetical tinge with 
 whicli you never would have thought memory could invest them. 
 Wo should not revisit jjlaces we have once seen if wo wish to preserve 
 our fii-st impressions. It is the same with scenery as with men ; wo 
 must not examine tlic details if wo wish to admire the wliole. 
 
 The walk from St. Gilles to Nisuies presents nothing remarkable, 
 and yet I remember it with delight; not that I can recall any adven- 
 tures on tlie way, as I believe we did not meet with one ; but wluit I 
 do remember is a magnificent day of southern autumn, the sound oï 
 the bells coming tlirough the clear and balmy atmos])Iiere, ihe holiday- 
 look of everything around, arising from the groups of peasants, who, in 
 their Sunday clotlics, were going on Satuiday to Nismes, to be in 
 readiness for the fete of tlie next day. 
 
 On approaching Nismes, as we returned from Aiguesmortes, wo 
 saw a strange spectacle ; the town seemed an iuimonse liive, round the 
 doors of which crowded millions of beos, iVom whom arose such cries, 
 murmurs, and buzzing lium, as are heard in ])opular tumults. Above 
 all the noise we distinguislied tlie roll of the drum and the report of 
 rockets. We liastened our pace in order not to lose any of the pre- 
 ])arations, and on passing tlirough the gate found ourselves at once 
 in tlie middle of the procession. It was composed of drums and 
 hautboys, behind wliicli caine a boy of twelve or liftoen, without any 
 slioes, wearing a shirt and cotton trousers kept u])by one brace, can-y- 
 ing a sort of polo witli a ])lank nailed cross ways near tlio top, on wliich 
 was ^vi'ittcn, in large Icttor.s, " Great Ihill Branding." IJehind this 
 standard-bearer came, arm-in-arm, half tiio workmen and grisettes of 
 the town ; the other linlf wero at the windows. W(> followed the ])ro- 
 ccssion till we reached our hoU'l. 
 
 I found a letter from Ib'boul awaiting mo tliere ; lie apologised to 
 us for not being able to do tiio honours of the fete, becnuso lio was 
 obliged to keep a promise made to a friend to spend tlioSun<lay in the 
 country with him, but placed himself at our orders for all Mondny. 
 
 The branding was to take placo at tlireo o'clock tho next day ; oin- 
 host ])romised to send one of the boys about tlie plnrn to secure us 
 two seats, and wo went rjuietly to bed. 
 
 About ono in the morning I was awoke by a tremendous noise 
 whieli came from without. I ran to tlie window, and perceived at the 
 end of the street a shajicloas mass moving rii])idly on amidst a con- 
 fused din, in whicli could bo distinguished men's voices, tho neighing
 
 ERANDIXG THE BULLS. 201 
 
 of horses, and frightful bellowing. It was the wild bulls of La Cam- 
 argue which were to form the next day's spectacle entering Nismcs, 
 followed by their drivers, on horseback, who, to prevent them from 
 separating, i an backwaixls and foi-wards like shepherd's dogs round 
 the flock. I called Jadin directly, that he miglit see this strange sight; 
 but while he was getting up the troop of men and animals, to which 
 dai'kuess had given so fanciful an appearance, had passed like a weird 
 vision, carrying with it the clamour and dust; so that when he came 
 he found nothing but the silent and empty street, save that, at a dis- 
 tance, were a sliadow and sounds like those of a squadron of cavalry 
 passing by. When I awoke the next day, I thought it must have 
 been a dream, and spoke to our host of the noctm-nal apparition, as 
 of a thing I could hardly say I had seen. 
 
 He explained to me that the bulls were brought in at night, 
 because in the day they woidd trample underfoot everything that 
 came in their way. They were driven straight to the circus, where 
 they were confined under the arch of the amphitheatre, which had 
 formerly been appropriated to the combatants. While he was telling 
 me this, we heard the drum again, and the procession passed accom- 
 panied by a still gi-eater multitude than the evening before. 
 
 As the spectacle was not to begin till three o'clock, and we had alî 
 our moi-niug to ourselves, we employed it in visiting the Mague 
 Tower, which we had seen the day before as we came back from St. 
 Gilles. The original purpose of this monument is quite unknown ; 
 but it is now used for the telegraph. It is, as its name inchcates, a largo 
 towei", about one hundred feet high ; and about the end of the twelfth 
 century was used as a fortress by the Counts of Toulouse. About the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century the idea that it was an ancient 
 Roman sorarium* was prevalent, and became so decided that a 
 citizen of Nismes, named François Traucat, asked and obtained of 
 Henry IV. permission to search the interior of the edifice. This 
 permission was granted on the 22nd of May, 1601, " On condition 
 that the said Traiicat should pay all expenses incuiTcd for this 
 pui-pose ; and that of the said treasure which may be found, 
 whether gold, silver, metal or other things, one-third sliould belong 
 to the same Traucat ; we reserving the otlier two-thirds to employ in 
 oiu* nrgent affairs. — Given at Fontainebleau, the 22nd of May, in 
 the year of gi'ace 1001, and the twelfth of our reign." 
 
 Researches were made at the expense of this Traucat, in which 
 the citizen of Nismes lost his time and his money. 
 
 We had just finished our inspection when we again heard tlie 
 drums and hautboys of the procession, which was crossing the 
 ♦ Public treasury.
 
 £0? TUE SOrTH OF rHAXCE 
 
 I'lace do la I'oiitaiuc and going to the arena. It was tlien n, 
 quaitor to three, and the taverns and coflee-houses emptied them- 
 selves in the streets. The boidevard wliich goes from the theatre 
 to the Porte St. Antoine, and that which leads from the barracks 
 to the esplanade, wore crowded. "We were inclined to think that 
 the Ai-ena, vast as it was, would not be able to accommodate all 
 the spectators ; so we hastened forwards and arrived in time to 
 get in after five or six thousand people. "\Vc were satislied when 
 we found we were among the first. As there were no tickets to 
 be presented, hardly was the iron gate opened tliau the crowd spread 
 through the building witli incredible rapidity. Tl;anks to our height, 
 we were able to see over the heads of the others the yawniug en- 
 trance which engulfed the whole popidation, and driven forwards by 
 10,000 jicrsons who were crowding behind, we felt ourselves irresis- 
 til)ly di'awn towards the Jaws of the monster, which swallowed us in 
 our turn; but hardly had wo been engulfed than, like Jonah, wc found 
 ourselves perfectly comfortable in the belly of the whiUo. The six 
 thousand who had preceded us were dotted hero and there upon the 
 f^eats, without producing more effect, or appciu-ing more niunerous, 
 than the rlmjueurs who are admitted into our theatres before tho 
 jniblic. Thei'c was no need to trouble ourselves about the boy who 
 bad been sent to keej) our places ; so leaving tlicin for his use, we 
 sat down in tlie gallery of tho vestals. 
 
 At this mniiK'nt Mylord, who had lost us in the crowd, apjiearod 
 in the arena, pursued by tlie keepers, wlio, like those of the 'I'liilerics, 
 have orders to allow no dogs to enter without their mastere. Wo 
 jtitied the jjainfid situation of our travelling companion, who ovou 
 wliilo running along rolled his flaming eyes all round tho circus, 
 looking for us among the six or eigiit thousand spectators who were 
 jiiready seated, .iadin gave a peculiar whistle. Mylord stopjied sliort, 
 saw us, and sprang from seat to seat, leaping witli all tlie vigour of 
 lii.s short, strong legs; but at tho third spring he disai>iH!ared siid- 
 di-nly, as if lie had been swallowi'd up. A hole had been worn by 
 time on the other side of tin- seat he was passing over, and he dis- 
 iijijjoared in tlie dejiths of the ampliilheatre, liki^ Docius in tlio gulf 
 
 We ran immediately to tlie otiicr side and looked into the cavity 
 of flic building, but we saw nothing at the bottom except the stctiies 
 and rubbish, ujion which wc expected to find him lying crushed; and 
 /IS we were very fond of him, notwithstanding daily (piarrols with tho 
 innkeepers and ))ea.Hants on his account, through his hatred to cats, 
 WC) went out tin- nearest way and linrried to assist bim. Mut it was in 
 vain that we soiighl lor him in the jtlacc when; he had fallen, and 
 which we recognised by tho ahape of the aperture; in vaiu did wo
 
 BRANDING THE BCIJ.S. 203 
 
 whistle for him in his favourite tones, and cull him Ia'Il's first name — 
 Hope, and hy his surname — jNIylord. No answer was given. We 
 thouglit, therefore, that, satisfied witli what lie had seen of the sight, 
 lie had retuvned to the hotel, and we determined to return to the 
 gallery ; when, on re-entering the circus, we perceived our fiiend 
 Mylord defending our hats against two i)ersons who wished to take 
 them from theii- places, in order to occupy them themselves. We 
 went to the assistance of om* guardian, who gi-eeted us by wagging 
 his tail right merrily. We examined him attentively ; there was no 
 trace of his faD, and he appeared quite as easy as if nothing had 
 hofnllen him. We signed to him to lie down at our feet, and he 
 obeyed. 
 
 Daring this time the circus had gradually filled ; all the available 
 seats v/ere crowded, the ruins alone were unoccupied, so that the specta- 
 tors who were nearest to the arena were only separated fi'om it by a wall 
 about six feet high, which goes round it ; and the most distant stood 
 upon the top gallery of the Anipliitheatre. Some even were mounted 
 on large blue splices fastened in the holes of the beams formerly 
 used to support the velarium, but now, on great occasions, sucb as the 
 birthday of the king or the anniversary of the 27th, 28th and 29th of 
 J uly, decorated with the tricoiom'-flag. 
 
 At length, when the last stones had disappeared beneath this 
 stream of people, like the remains of the earth beneath the Deluge, 
 when there were no more waiting at the gates, and when it was quite 
 certain that the whole population of Aries was assembled, the gates 
 were closed. The trumpeter of the town, as herald of the festivity, 
 advanced into the middle of the circus and sounded a blast. As the 
 notes died away two peasants, moimtcd on the little white ponies of 
 La Camargue, entered, each holding in his hands a ti'ident, and rode 
 round the Amiihitheatre, driving off the idlers, who now hastened to 
 get what seats they could, and left the circus to the combatants. 
 
 I wondered, on looking at the low wall which protected the specta- 
 tors, how tlic ancient seats had been guarded from the rage of the 
 animals which the people came to see slaughtered in thousands. A 
 rampart six feet in height would perhaps stop heavy animals, though 
 I remember, in the Spanish bull-fights, the bulls, and especially the 
 bulls of NaviUTC, which are the lightest, occasionally sprung over 
 the first palisade, which is five feet high, and got into a i)assage 
 the narrowness of which alone prevents their clearing the second 
 barrier, which is, however, fifteen or eighteen inches higher. But in 
 the ancient sports, in which the animals were tigers, panthers, and 
 lions, to which Caesar brought a serpent fifty cubits long, who had 
 only to luicoil himself and stretch out his head to reach the foiu'th
 
 204 THE SOUTH OF FR.VSCE. 
 
 and fifth rows of scuts, and Agiippa fimiisbed twenty elephants, wliose 
 trunks could have touched the galkn y of the emperor and vestals, 
 what baniers protected the spectators, of wliich no traces remain? 
 And yet no coteraporary author mentions a single accident arising 
 fi-om these causes, and which, witliout a rampart or a grating, would 
 have been common. 
 
 I was communicating my reflections to Jadin, when we heard a cry 
 of joy ; and on casting our eyes towards the arena we saw the lir<t bull, 
 which, friglitened by this noise, endeavoured in vain to ivturn back- 
 wai'ds to the vault from which he had just issued. Accustomed to 
 the vast solitudes of La Crau, to the sandy j^lains of Aiguesmortes or 
 ihe fens of Camargue, he appeared stupefied, iuid cast a dull and fero- 
 cious look round the circle of sjtectators in which he was confined. 
 Seeing no way of escape, and feeling himself surrounded by a circle of 
 granite, he bent his head, bellowed louiî and loudly, and pawed tlie 
 ground with his forefeet. These hostile demonstiations were i-eceived 
 with cries of joy by the spectators; but of all present Mylord was 
 decidedly the most agitated, lie had till then been lying down, but 
 now he sprang up convulsively, and remembering his former fights at 
 the barrière du combat, he would have sprung into the arena had not 
 his master held him back by his chain. 
 
 Meanwhile one of the peasants had mlvanced some steps towards 
 the bull, which, seeing now distinctly the enemy ho had to combat, 
 precipitated himself upon him with such rapidity that all the Ainphi. 
 theatre exclaimed together, " 'J'ake care!" but the light stallion of La 
 Camargue gave one bound to the side so suddenly that you woidd 
 have tliought the two adversaries had not met, if the bull, in sliaking 
 his head, had not stained tlie sand of the arena with largo dro[)s of 
 blood. 'J'he applause wliich greeted the man and the insult heaped 
 on the aninuil excited them both ; the one to follow u]i his success, 
 the other to revi-nge tlie dieck lie had sustained. Although tho 
 second horseman now advanced to provoke the bull in his turn, tho 
 animal paid no attention to him, but looki-d round for the one who 
 liad wounded him, and «.-eing him at tlio other end of the .\mphi 
 theatre, ho turnod towards him, reaily to «pring upon him at the least 
 aggression. 'J'he jieasant tiien galloped his horse round the arena, 
 like tho grooms at l''ranconJH. 'J'he hull looked after hinj, then, cid- 
 culating with wonderful sagacity tiie spot where ho should nail iho 
 horse and bis rider tuthe wall, he sprang forwards. Jhit his enemies 
 liad foreseen this manœuvro; the horse, though at fidl gallop, stnpjiod 
 immediately, antl tlin bull, borne onwards by liis own swiftness, 
 Htruek till! wall with his head, like an ancient hattering-ram, ahout 
 thre(! feet bef'jro him. The sliock was so great that Ii>! I.ll iinmo-
 
 BRANDING THE BULLS. 205 
 
 diotely, stuuued and ti'embliug, as if the butcher's chib had fallen on 
 Ills head. 
 
 The peasant spurred on his horse and made it spring lightly over 
 the prostrate bull. At this moment a man clothed in scarlet, and 
 something in the style of the devils at the opera, came forward, 
 holding a red hot iron in his hand, which he pressed to the leg of the 
 animal. The bull no longer endeavoured to protect himself, but 
 raised his head and bellowed plaintively ; and on a rope being slipped 
 over him got up unresistmgly and followed, amidst the applause of the 
 assembly, the man in scai'let, who went out by the opposite door to 
 which he had entered. Hai'dly had the first animal disappeared 
 behind this grating than the one facing it opened, and the second bull 
 advanced into the arena. But, to the shame of the bull tribe of La 
 Camargue be it said, tliis one had none of the warlike qualities of 
 the first; so true is it tliat animals, like the men, of the same 
 country, are not only unlike in their disposition, but entkely opposite. 
 Indeed, the impression produced upon the new-comer, by his transi- 
 tion from complete darkness to the light of day, by the comparison 
 between the thii-ty thousand spectators and tlie solitaiy reeds and 
 tamarisks of La Camargue, was evidently a feeling of terror. He 
 tm'ned round in order to retiu-n through the door by which he had 
 entered, but finding liis retreat cut off, he wandered with uncertain 
 steps about the arena. The two horsemen seeing the sort of animal 
 tliey had to deal with, approached him on either side with precaution, 
 and catching his nostiils between the two tridents, led Mm thus into 
 the middle of the arena. There a sort of butcher of Herculean fi-ame 
 awaited them ; and taking the bull by the horns, depressing one and 
 raising the other, he threw him on his side. Immediately the same 
 man in scai-let came again with the iron, mai'ked the animal in the 
 same way and drove him into the vavdt, where he would join Ins 
 companion, who by his bravery liad won as much applause as this 
 one through his cowardice had gained insult and abuse. Hardly had 
 the second left the arena than all the spectators cried simultaneously, 
 " Another ! another !" They were at once obeyed ; and the new adver- 
 saiy presented himself so quickly that he was in the middle of the 
 circus before they were aware of his presence. The peasant who had 
 not yet fought now made ready. His jjrepai'ations were not lengthy ; 
 they consisted in poising his trident in something like the manner 
 in which knights of former days rested their lances. Then, having 
 cleverly backed his horse, and thus gained all the space that the size 
 of the circus allowed him, he ruslied on tlie bull. Tlie animal, wiiich 
 till then had been motionless, seeing him come, raised bis head so 
 quickly that his antagonist missed his aim, and instead of piercing
 
 206 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 the nosti-ils as lie had intended, the tiidout entered the breast tlio 
 whole length of the thi-ee points. The man, afraid of kilUng the 
 animal, let go the lance, the hantUc of which foil to tlie ground, 
 whUe the ii'on still remained buried in the bull. 
 
 Tliis proceeding did not please the nniltitude ; thov shouted and 
 howled as though they had received the blow. As for the bull, by a 
 feeling uatmal to animals, he ))ressed himself agaiust the weapon 
 wliich remained in his wound ; walking as it were against his woimd 
 and his pain. Ijut alter two or three stops the handle of the ti'ident 
 stuck in the ground, and prevented tlic bull from going on ; ho made, 
 however, a terrible eflbrt, which would have buried the trident several 
 feet in his body had it not been stopped by the transverse bar which 
 formed the base of the points. The handle of the weapon bent like 
 a bow, then broke suddenly; and the animal fell on his knees with 
 the iron still in his breast. 
 
 At this moment tlie man who had wounded him, taking his com- 
 panion's trident, returned to tlic bull, to repair, by a more honourable 
 attack, the faidt ho had just connnittod ; and before the bull had risen 
 from his knees he buried the points of tbe lance in his nostrils. This 
 roused the animal, and a veritable combat ensued. Tbe bull roared 
 and threw himself on the man, who sprang aside and wounded him 
 again. TheaniuuU now endeavoured to attack the borso. which, accus- 
 tomed to such manœuvres, sprang so adroitly aside as always to 
 present the trident of the horseman to his enemy. The whole Amphi- 
 theatre was enchanted, and the applause was loud ; but suddenly all 
 was again quiet. The bull, finding he could not succeetl, bad marked 
 •another victim, and his whole fury was now directed towards the first 
 ])easant, who had been imprudent enough to remain in the arena 
 without arms. A cry warned liim of his darigcr, and lie was enabled 
 to avoid the first attack ; but tlin bull, quite giving up the armed 
 horseman, ])ursued the other. We were able to judge of the superior 
 swiftness of the bull ; for hardly bad tlie horse gone thirty stejis tiiiui 
 ho was wounded in tho side by his enemy, and horse and horseman 
 fell to the ground. The bull licsitated a moment between the two, 
 and then prepared to throw himself on the man ; but lioforo he had 
 taken four nteps ho met with a fresh adversary. This was Mylord, 
 who had made one leap from the gallery to tho circus, and a second 
 from thonco to the mouth of tho hull. The astonished animal raised 
 his head, and showed to tho spectators the terrible bull-dog suspended 
 to him by his iron t<'elh. Meanwliilo the pensant had tiiken refuge 
 lioncnth the anh where the man in sciarlet was safely lodged. As 
 for tho herse, ho vainly endoavnured to follow his master; tho 
 horn liad entered its wiiole Knglli into the side of the poor auimal.
 
 BRANDING THE BULLS. 207 
 
 The second horsemau, not knowing how to attack the bull, reniaincil 
 quiet. 
 
 The result of the combat was soon known. The bull, harassed and 
 worn out, endeavoured to crush Mylord, but ^Mylord was quite a 
 match for him. The bull shook his liead, but Mylord loosened not 
 his hold. This lasted some minutes ; till the bull, after running madly 
 about, finally stood still, trembling, on his four legs. The butcher 
 then came forward ; the bull gathered fresh strength, and flew to meet 
 him ; but this new adversary seized him by the horns, and, executing 
 the manoeuvre wliich had formerly been so successful, threw him 
 down. Mylord, seeing liis enemy vanquished, loosed his hold and 
 returned, modest and happy, to our feet, little thinking that ho was 
 the admiration of thirty thousand people. 
 
 As for us, as we feared the enthusiasm of the peo])le should go so 
 far as to decree us an ovation, we took advantage of the opportunity 
 aflbrded by the attention of the people being fastened on the branding 
 to make our escape by a door immediately behind us. Our triumph- 
 ant retreat was eflected without hindrance ; and Mylord followed us, 
 receiving, as the only reward of his victory, the compliment of the 
 porter, who, on opening the gate for us, respectfidly shook his head, 
 saying, " Well, sirs, you may flatter yourselves you have a noble dog." 
 
 I retm-ued to the hotel, my head full of the excitement I had wit- 
 nessed, and which shows what a people so terrible in their joy might 
 be in their anger. During the week, liowever, Nismes is silent and 
 solitary; you may look from yoiu- window and not sec above tlnee or 
 four persons the whole length of tlie street. Tliis proceeds from the 
 whole worlving population, composed iilmost entirely of weavers of silk 
 and cotton, living in their workshops or cellars, and only coming 
 fortli from their dungeons on occasions of festivity or tumult. Front 
 this it probably arises that tlie language of Nismes is both melancholy 
 and poetic. A month before our arrival some meetings had been held , 
 the workmen demanded higher wages, and the manufacturers refused 
 to grant them. One of the workmen, in the greatest despair, was 
 heai'd to exclaim, ." my God, my God ! shower down powder for 
 one day, and fire for one hour, that all may be over ! " 
 
 In giving an account of the massacres of Avignon, I have related 
 those of Nismes. The same causes produced the same efiects. Tho 
 same hatred shai-pened the same poniai-ds, and the same gold paid 
 the blood. But at Nismes, as at Avignon, wo must not make the 
 town responsible for the crimes of some of its inhabitants. Tlie me- 
 mory of Trcstaillon is as much execrated by the E^jyalists themselves 
 as that of Farges, lioquefort or Pointu. The house which belonged 
 to this wretch is deserted and uninliabited, like a cm'sed spot; and it
 
 20S THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 is shown to tlic traveller falling to ruins in tlio middle of his unculti- 
 vated and barren garden. 
 
 Since the evolution of July these feeli;igs ai'e much softened down. 
 We are told that the Government nearly imperilled all in ordering 
 the destruction of the crosses. But the Protestants, wlio hy the new 
 political movement had then the upper liaud, instead of joining in the 
 work stayed at home, and loft to the gendiu'mes all the responsibility of 
 tlie sacrilege. The crosses were knocked down, and some old women 
 were trampled beneath theii* horses. In a few days there were tears 
 and blood in the streets of Nismes, but the bright sun of the South 
 soon dried them np ; and now, in speaking of the almost forgotten 
 events of 1815 and 1830, the inhabitants only say, " It was God's 
 will !" There are fifteen thousand Protostimts and thirty thousand 
 Catholics in Nismes. 
 
 Through all our operations wo had not yet had time to visit the 
 Maison-Carrée, which is generally considered the masti'ri)ieco oi 
 ancient architecture at Nismes. Cardinal Alberoni said it ought to 
 be inclosed in <a golden case ; and Louis XIV. and Napoleon thought 
 seriously of transporting this wonder of art of the second century to 
 Paris, but it was found to be impossible. Louis XIV. forgot this 
 project in dancing at the opera, and Napoleon in gaining the battle 
 of Kylau. Although greatly desirous of seeing an object whicli had 
 been coveted by a king and an emperor — both surnamcd Great — our 
 visit thither was ])ut off on account of the day being too advanced. 
 
 Reboul, according to his promise, came to us the next morning at 
 oiglit o'clock. Giving orders to our host and to our servant to liaro 
 our breakliist and carriage in readiness on our return, we sot off to 
 SCO the Roman wonder. I was much disajipointed at the first a.spect 
 of Uiis monument, which did not come np to the idea I had formed of 
 it. 1 found it small compared to the Arena, and I quito miderstood 
 Najioleon's imagining ho could have it removed, 
 
 Tiie Maison Carrée, as I was informed by Keboul, had undergone 
 many degradations. It was built during the reign of Antoninus ; in 
 the eleventh century it was used as an Hotel-do- Villo : two or three 
 ccnturif's later it was given np to a man named Potor Hoys, in paj'- 
 ment of a dtht incurred by the towni. No sooner was it in his pos- 
 «fssion tlian he built a house on the soutliorn sid(>, and defaced the 
 wail by Imllowing it out to receive tlio W(i()d-\vnrk and beams destined 
 to support the roof (if the n(!W building. I'rom the hands of i'eter Roys 
 the .Maison CaiTce piLssed into those of the Seigneur of St. Cliaptes, 
 who converted it into a stable, and, to uuikc it morn convenient, 
 built a brirk widl acrosH, and divitled the interior into mangers and 
 ♦'I IN. In |c.',ii 1m^ li'ir^ '-.■Id il to the Augustine monks, wlio built
 
 BRANDING THE BULLS 
 
 20:; 
 
 a nave, a chapel, and tribunes. Finally, in 1789, tlie Maison Carrée, 
 which was then considered as Church property, was taken I'roni the 
 monks, and became the central Hotel de l'Administration of the De- 
 partment. Since this period gi'eat care has been taken of it, and it 
 has not only been restored in some places, but much embellished. 
 
 Reboul returned with us to breakfast, and it was during the few 
 liours we were together that we fairly worried him into allowing his 
 poems to be published; to which, after much opposition, he con- 
 sented. On my return to Paris, Lamartine and I undertook the nego- 
 tiation ; the result was the j'liblication of a volume of poetry whose 
 success sui-passed our most sanguine expectations. 
 
 BniDCE OF IIL.VUCAIRE.
 
 ■î*^ 
 
 -Ji^t*' 
 
 aït-J 
 
 I ASI I.K « F TAEIASKIN. 
 
 CIIAriEU XXIII. 
 
 I.A TAllAStjlK 
 
 We were nearly throe liours in perfoniiin;^ tlie journey from Nisnies 
 to lîeiiiiciiirc As tliis town is only soiiaratcil Ironi 'I'tiniscon, wliere 
 wo inteiuk'il to sleep, by tlio Uiioiie, we got out iit llie loot of the 
 cliateau, luul sent our eiii)riolet on to nnnouneo our arrival at tlio 
 hotel 
 
 Heaiioiiire, liko those fjigantie srriuMits of South America wliich eat 
 for an entire day and are six ninnths in eom])l('tin<,' their di^'esiion, 
 lives all the year round on tlio strcn^'th of its fair, the ri'putalion of 
 whieh is Kuropean. The majorily of the houses arc shops, wliich 
 are closed diu'inj» three Inindrcd and fiftyi-if^ht days of the year, mid 
 only o|)en at the approach of the ','t.'nd of .Inly, when the deserted 
 quays of llie awakened town are chan<,'ed into ha/aars. Then the 
 roads of I'mis, Nismes, and ()rj,'on are blocked n|) with coaches, 
 th(! canals of Toulouse and the poi Is of Cette atid AigU(>smortes are 
 covered with boats* and harj/cs, and the llhone, that preat artery 
 of the South, appears to How in waves of life. In fact, ail tll(^ 
 commerce of Kiuope is assembled at this industrial festival. Mul- 
 hauscn sends its prints and white cidicos; Uoueii, its tissu( s
 
 LA TAUASQUE. 211 
 
 Nismes, its linens and alcohols ; Perpignan, its anchovies and sar- 
 dines; St. Etienne, its guns and ribbons; Grasse, its orange-flower- 
 water and oils; Avignon, its leather; Marseilles, its logwood and 
 colonial jirodnce ; I'arare, its muslins and embroidery ; St. Quentin, 
 its basins and percales ; Lyons, its liats and silks; Sauve, its stock- 
 ings and cotton liight-caps ; ^lontpellier. its drugs ; Salins, its glass; 
 Vervins, its hemp; St. Claude, its snuff-boxes; Châtellcrault, its 
 cutlery; Vienne, its cloth; Amiens, its velvets; Paris, its hardware, 
 jewellery, and shawls ; Gênes, its confectionery ; Catalonia, its corks ; 
 and Prussia, its horses. This fair, which begins, as we have said, on 
 the 2'2nd of July, finishes on the 2Sth of the same month. During 
 these days business is transacted to the amount of several millions of 
 francs; that which has arrived in mercliaudise goes back in gold, 
 that which has arrived in gold goes back in merchandise. This heart, 
 which beats but for a moment, gives life for an entire year not only 
 to one but to forty towns ; so great is the quantity of blood which it 
 receives and afterwards sends forth to its furthest extremities. The 
 lair is over on the 28th. and on the 29th the visitors disperse with 
 their goods, the shops are again deserted, and the houses closed. 
 Some t/itonos, who have come from Spain to live on the remains of 
 tlic festival, wander about the quay, eating what they have picked up 
 in the streets; but at last, when tlie last scraps of the feast have dis- 
 appeared, these aJso take then- departure, and Beaucaire is restored 
 ibr another year to its sleep, its silence and its solitude. 
 
 The old castle which overhangs Beaucaire, and which made so 
 much noise in tlie twelfth century with its engines of war, and in the 
 fourteenth with its cannon, is built on a Roman foundation. Its 
 various fortifications belong to the eleventh, thirteenth, and fourteenth 
 centuries. From the top of its ramparts a beautiful landscape is 
 seen ; in the foreground lie Tarascon and Beaucaire, separated by the 
 Ithone and connected by a bridge; while in the background is the 
 lloman town — Aries, tlie Herculaneum of France, swallowed up and 
 overwhelmed by the lava of barbarism. 
 
 We left tlie old castle, in which there is nothing perfect except a 
 cliarming mantel-piece of the time of Louis XIIL, crossed the biidge, 
 wliich is about fifteen hundred feet long, jmssed by the foot of tlie 
 fortress built by King Eéné, and entered the church, which was 
 erected in the twelfth century and restored in the fourteenth. 
 
 This church is under the protection of St. Martha, who enter- 
 tained the Saviour, and concerning whom the following tradition has 
 been preserved. 
 
 The Jews, in order to punish Martha, ^lary Magdalene, Maximi- 
 nius and Marcellus for remaining faitliful to Christy forced them to 
 
 02
 
 212 THE SOL'TH OF FRANXE. 
 
 enter a bark, and launched it into tlie sea during a violent storm. 
 Tiie baik was without sail, rudder or oar, but Faith was its pilot ; so 
 that hardly had the crew coumienced to sing hymns of grace to the 
 Saviour when the tempest abated, the sky cleared up, and a stream of 
 light surrounded the bark as if with a ball. Wliilst one jjaj-t of tliose 
 who l)eheld this miracle blasphemed the God who had caused it. the 
 others fell on their knees to worship him ; and in the meanwhile the 
 bai'k, urged as if by a divine hand, reached the shores of Mareeilles, and 
 Gods labourers, the preachers of his word, the apostles of his religion, 
 dispersed themselves about iu order to distribute to those who hun- 
 gered for it the holy uourisliment whicli tliey had brouglit with them 
 from Judea. 
 
 Wliilst Martha was at Aix, witli ^lary Magdalene and Maximi- 
 nius, who was the first bishop of that town, deputies came to her 
 from a neighbouring place, having been attracted by the reports of 
 her miracles. These men begged lier to deliver tliein from a monster 
 tliat was ravaging thi'ir country, and accoidingly Martha took leave 
 of Maxiiiiinius and Miuy Magdalene and i'ollowed these men. 
 
 On arriving at the gates of the town she found all the inhabitants 
 assembled to meet her. At her approach Ihey knelt down, saying 
 that the\' had hope only in her, to which she replied by asking where 
 the monster was. A wood close to the town was pointed out to her ; 
 and towards it, alone and without an}^ means of defence, she made 
 her way. 
 
 She had hardly entered it when a long-eontinucd bellowing was 
 heard, at which all the people trembled, thinking that the poor 
 woman who had undertaken a thing which no one liad dared to 
 attempt, and who had gone without arms where no armed man 
 would have dared to go, liad been destroyed. 13ut soon tlie bellow- 
 ing ceased, and Martha rc-ajipeared holding a little wooden cross in 
 one band, and in the other this monster, who was fastened to the end 
 of a riband which was tied round her waist. 
 
 She advanced thus into (he middle of the town, glorifving llu- 
 nrinie of (he Saviour, and prcsi'iited (lie people, by way of a play- 
 thing, with the dragon which was still blood}' from the pre}' which 
 Lc had last devoured. 
 
 Such Ih the legend upon which the veneration paid by (he iMlial)i(- 
 anls of 'i'arascon to St. Alartlia is founded. An annual festival 
 commemtiratcH the victory of (he Saint over the "TaraH(|ue," as the 
 monster, who takes his name from (he scene of his dcpredadons, is 
 called. On the eve of this iioliday (he mayor proclaims by sound 
 of trumpet that no one will be responsible for any accident that may 
 liappcn on the following day, and (hat (hose who may get wounded
 
 LA TARASQUE. 213 
 
 are warned beforehand that they must not complain, and that who- 
 ever receives an injiny must make the best of it. Tluinks to this 
 formidable caution, which ou^lit to keep every one at home, from 
 the dawn of day the whole town is in the streets ; as for the " Ta- 
 rasque," it is ready in its den. 
 
 It is an unpleasant-looking animal, evidently intended to remind 
 one of the original dragon which it represents. It may be twenty 
 feet long, and has a large round head, an immense mouth, which, 
 opens and shuts at will, eyes vAliich are filled with firework-powder, 
 a neck which can be drawn in or extended, a gigantic body, intended 
 for the reception of those persons who are to put it in motion, and 
 a tail as thick and as stiff as a beam, which is screwed on to the 
 spine in a manner well calculated for breaking the arms and legs of 
 those it comes in contact with. 
 
 The second day of Pentecost, at sis o'clock in the morning, thirty 
 knights of the " Tarasque," clothed in tunics and cloaks, and insti- 
 tuted by King René, proceed to rouse the animal in its place of 
 shelter. Twelve porters get inside it ; a young girl dressed in imita- 
 tion of St. Martha fastens a blue ribbon round its neck, and the 
 monster walks out amid the great applause of the multitude. If a 
 very curious person should approach too near its head, the " Ta- 
 rasque" stretches out its neck and seizes him by the seat of his 
 trousers, a portion of which generally remains in its mouth. Should 
 an imprudent person approach it too closely from behind, a blow 
 from its tail suffices to knock him down, Should the " Tarasque" 
 be harassed on all sides, the fireworks are lighted, flames dart from 
 its eyes, it rises up, turns itself round, and all within its reach, to 
 the distance of seventy-five feet, get knocked about and scorched 
 without mercy. If, on the other hand, some inhabitant of import- 
 ance come in its way, it goes towards him, performing a thousand 
 graceful evolutions as evidences of its joy, and opening its mouth as 
 a sign of hunger ; the important personage understands this, and 
 feeds the animal with a purse, which it digests incontinently, to the 
 great advantage of the porters it contains. 
 
 In the year 1793, the Arlesiens and Tarasconnais being at war, 
 the latter were conquered and Tarascon taken ; when the Arlesiens, 
 thinking nothing would have a more humiliating effect upon their 
 enemies, burned the " Tarasque" in the public square. It was a 
 monster of the greatest magnificence ; its mechanism was as inge- 
 nious as it was complicated, and its manufacture had cost twenty 
 thousand francs. 
 
 Since that period the Tarasconnais have never been able to replace 
 their ancient " Tarasque," which is still the subject of the keenest
 
 211 THE SOUTH OF TRANCE. 
 
 regrets. One has ccrtaiuly been niade, but it is said to be mean and 
 contemptible compared with its elder brother ; when we saw it, it 
 appeared, in spite of the lamentations of our guide, to be in a very 
 comfortable condition. 
 
 Now, as there is an historical side in all these traditions, and 
 some points which can be explained in all these miracles, it is pro- 
 bable that a crocodile had come from Egypt (like that one which 
 was killed in the Ehone, and of which the skin was preserved, until 
 the llevolution, in the town-hall of Lyons) and taken up its quarters 
 in the environs of Tarascon ; and that Martha, wlio had learned the 
 art of attacking the animal on the banks of the Nile, managed to 
 deliver the town where she is remembered with so much honour 
 from the jaws of this monster. 
 
 The church to which we introduced our readers at the com- 
 mencement of the above legend oflcrs nothing remarkable in the 
 way of architecture, but it contains some very curious pictures. 
 Seven of them are from Vien, and represent the A'^isit of Christ to St. 
 Martha ; the Raising of Lazarus ; the Embarkation of St. Martha ; 
 Mary Magdalen, Lazarus, and Maximinius; the Landing of St. 
 Martha at Marseilles ; St. Martha Preaching the Gospel at Tarascon ; 
 the Death of St. Martha ; and finally, the Burial of St. Martha. 
 
 Besides these seven pictures, which are marko \ by all the 
 defects and all the beauties of the masters of that time and school, we 
 have St. Cunegunda refusing to marry a Greek Prince, and devoting 
 herself to the service of God ; the Saviour ; the Annunciation ; the 
 Wise Men AVorshipping ; St. Catherine; St. Thomas Aquinas 
 and a A'irgin, by Parrocel ; the Assumjjtion of the A'irgin, and Si. 
 Martha attending on our Saviour, by Mignard ; and the death of 
 St. Francis d'Assises, by Vanloo. The church of St. Martha pos- 
 sessed a great many more paintings of value ; but at the time of the 
 Kcvolution, when they had been removed to a loft in the Asylum for 
 the Indigent, the paiq)cr8 washed out the colours of the greater 
 part of them in order to make trousers witli the canvass. 
 
 But the greatest \oxn experienced at this period was that of a 
 bust of St. Martha, in solid gold, which liad been given to the town 
 by Louis XI. 'J'liis bust, armind which the entire life of S(. Martha 
 was represented in enamel, contained twenty-two thouHand ducats 
 of gold, without counting the Htnliie <if llie King, who was rcpro- 
 sented on his knees praying before Iut. J)uring a time of dearth 
 it was sent to Gi^nes and exchanged for wheat; the repnbjio of 
 GAncfl taking it at its full value, that is, at one hundred tluni/;uid 
 francs. 
 
 Another not less precious relic was un hnts dc vrniwil, con
 
 I.A TARASQUK. 
 
 215 
 
 tniniiig one of St. Mavtlia's bones, on llic finpcrs of wliicli were 
 ninety rin};?, some of wliieli ■were \Aorth as much as ten thousand 
 francs. At the period when the bust was taken to Gênes, the arm 
 was removed in some other direction ; but its destination is unknown. 
 
 A verj' curious thinj^ in tliis church is the tomb of St. Martha, 
 which is less remarkable for any merit of execution than for the 
 veneration which it inspires. For the rest, the fifjjure of the saint, 
 whioJi is of white marble, recumbent on a bed of black, is very 
 beautiful ; and when seen by the treniblin<T rays of the lamp which 
 lijrlits the subterranean chapel, has a most holy and imiu'cssive 
 appearance. 
 
 As Tarascon offered us no other object of interest, we persuaded 
 our friend Eoyer to put the hoi-se back into the cabriolet, at about 
 fire o'clock in the afternoon, and proceeded towards Aries, where 
 we arrived at nine.
 
 K«NT MAJUUn. 
 
 CHArTER XXIV. 
 
 ARLKS, 
 
 Aur,ES is the Mecca of Frondi nrclin^ologists; it is tlioir ancient city 
 par r.rccUencc. Tho firouml is eovored ^vitll lloniau niominieiita, 
 and around them, at tlieir fVi-l, l)i'nc'atli their shade, wilhin tlieir 
 very ereviees, thanks to the reli^'ious civilisation of St. Louis, a 
 second and (îolhic town lias sprun^r np, which, in its turn, has (j;iven 
 birth to tlie iiouses ot" wliicli, well or ill, t!ic modern town is lorined. 
 ,\t Jirst sifjht the two latter styles strilfc the eye, l)\it if the fonnda- 
 lions arc examined, the narrow streets searched, and the various 
 ruins put toyctiwr, the I{oman city re-n|)pears, with its (hcatre, its 
 circus, its pnrtorian residence, its hat lis, its forum, its imperial 
 palace, its altar to the (Joddcfls of Fortune, and its temple of 
 .Jupiter Olympus. The skeleton of tho f^iant has not been com- 
 jilctcly buried, and its bones protrude throu;j;h the earth on all
 
 sides. In fact, Aries, if Auaonius is to be believed, was the 
 Queen of Gaul. " The situation in which it is built," wrote Hono- 
 rius and Theodosius to Agricola, the prefect of Gaul, " was so hap- 
 pily chosen, so lartje a number of traders and travellers flocked to 
 its harbour, that all the produce of every other part of the world 
 found its way thither ; so much so, that being indeed the entrepôt 
 of the whole world, it might be imagined, from the quantity of 
 things displayed in its markets, that its foreign riches were the 
 produce of its own soil. In fact, all that the rich East, odoriferous 
 Arabia, fertile Africa, soft Assyria, beautiful Spain and fruitful 
 Gaul contained was found there in plenty, according to the want, 
 desire, or caprice of the most refined Sybarite. Everything that 
 coidd be produced was brought there by land, by sea or by river, 
 in boats, ships and chariots."* 
 
 Aries was accordingly a favourite town of Constantine. His 
 thoughts were equally divided between it and Byzantium, for he had 
 once lived there, he had been happy there, and it was there that his 
 \^-ife, Fausta, had given birth to his eldest son, who was named after 
 himself What was the cause which prevented Aries from becoming 
 the second capital of the world it is impossible to say. Did Constan- 
 tine tire of it, as a lover docs of a mistress, and was he imfaithful to it 
 on seeing the blue waves of the Euxine and the flowery shows of the 
 Bosphorus ? Did his distaste for it arise from the danger which he 
 ran in his palace on the Ehone, that niglit when, forewarned by his 
 wife, he concealed himself behind some tapestry, and saw his father- 
 in-law, Maximinian Hercules, advance towards the imperial bed, 
 sword in hand, and stab a eunuch whom he had placed in bed instead 
 of himselF? Or did the terrible mistral, the scourge of those parts, 
 appear too obstinate an enemy, too violent an adversary, for a man 
 who had breathed the soft air of Ostia and the perfumed breeze of 
 Naples ? 
 
 It was from Aries that Constantine started to fight Maxentius ; 
 it was during his journey from Gaul to I\ome that a cross of light 
 appeared to him bearing the inscription "In hoc signo vinces ;" 
 and it was in double recollection of his favourite town and of his 
 mii-aculous victory that he caused medals of gold, silver, and bronze 
 to be struck, bearing on one side a hand extended from a cloud hold- 
 ing a cross, and on the other side a legend composed of the two 
 following words : " Arelas civitas." 
 
 Maxcntius having been drowned in the Tiber, and all the 
 prisoners having been set free, the Emperor was solemnly baptised 
 by Pope Silvester, and returned to Aries, where, in the year 314, he 
 * Vita Imp. Uonor. et Tlieod., lib. II., § 3.
 
 218 THE SOCTH OK FUANCE 
 
 assembled a council, m 310 caused the celebration of the decen- 
 nial games, and in 324 gave the name of C:vsar to three persons, 
 viz., Crispas, his son by Minerrina his first wife; Constantine, 
 who, as we hare already said, was born to him at Aries, by 
 Fausta, the daughter of Maximinius Hercules ; and Liiiius, his 
 nephew. Afterwards, by way of consoling the town for his leaving 
 it, he behaved like a man who, on leavintr liis wife, gives her a liberal 
 pension ; he presented it with an obelisk of granite which was 
 brought from the banks of the Nile, enriched its palace with m:igni- 
 ficent statues and si)lcndid colonnades, constructed at a great ex- 
 pense an aqueduct, by means of which the waters from the neigh- 
 bouring mountains were conducted to its public reservou's, and, 
 finally, made it the residence of the Praetor of Gaul, thus rendering 
 it almost equally great and important with Constantinople and Kome. 
 
 It was also to Aries that St. Aignan, the Bishop of Orleans, came 
 in his turn, being besieged by Attila, to seek assistance from ^Etius, 
 the prefect, who, with the aid of i\Iere-wig. conquered the King of 
 the Iluns near Clu'dons. 
 
 The lîoman sway terminated at Aries with Julius Valerius Majo- 
 rian. He crossed the Alps in tôS, took possession of Lyons, and 
 perceiving, like Constantine, tluit Aries was adniirul»Iy situated, re- 
 solved to estal)lish iiis imperial court there. 
 
 It was during his residence in this town, and in the palace of Con- 
 stantine, that he invited Sidonins Apollinarius to sit at his tnble, and 
 to this circumstance we owe the letter of the poet to his friend 
 Montius, in which he gives the details of the grand feast at which 
 seven great lords assisted, and describes the palace, adorned, as he 
 tells us, with magnificent statues placed between columns of nnirble. 
 
 Jiîajorian, w\\o was assnssinaled at Tortona, lost with his life the 
 empire of the West, and tlie city of Aries, the only Roman colony 
 remaining, passe<l under the yoke of the Goths in IC»,') ; it was sub- 
 ject totlicmtill i")37, at which period Viltegis surrendered to Childe- 
 l)crt, King of the Franks, the city of Aries, \\ilh all his possessions 
 in Gatd. 
 
 Tlic new muster of Aries visited it, and had games and cond)als 
 celel)raled there, in imitation of those of (lie Uomans. Hunting one 
 day in the neighbourhood of the town, he met with some hennils on 
 u Htnnll mountain in tI>o centre of a forest, and, touelM-d l)y their 
 piety, founilcd the monaslery of Monfmajonr. 
 
 Jn 732 thi' Saracens of Spain, afler havinii I»een bciileii between 
 Tours and J'oiliers l)y Cliarles iMartel, overran the soiitliern pro- 
 vinces, and rendered furious by their defeat, ]>iliaged the city of 
 Aries, destroyed its moininicnls, and buried under tiieir ruins the
 
 AELES. 219 
 
 treasures of art collected duriii}^ five centuries of civilisation. Ex- 
 pelled by Charles Martel iu 736, tliey returned to Provence in 797, 
 where Churlcraagae vanquished them near the mountain of La 
 Corde, two years later, killinf^ twenty thousand men. 
 
 It was in honour of this victory, says M. de Noble do la Hau- J 
 zière, in his " History of Aries," that Charlemagne built at the foot 
 of the mountain Montmajour a small chapel, dedicated to the Holy 
 Cross. A Latin inscription, now almost illegible, states the cause of 
 its erection.* Unfortunately for the authenticity of the dedication, 
 modern historical research recognises neither the inscription nor the 
 victory it commemorates ; it therefore seems probable that the 
 monks of Holy Cross, unwilling to pray for Charles Martel, who 
 obliged the religious communities he had come to assist to pay 
 heavy ransoms, attributed the honour to his grandson. Besides, 
 the true date of the preservation of the church of Holy Cross, 
 proved by a charter, is later than the age of Charlemagne by two 
 hundred and twenty years. It was erected by the Abbé Eambert, 
 superior of the Abbey of Montmajour, and consecrated in 1019 by 
 Pons de Marignan, Archbishop of Aries. 
 
 The empire of Charlemagne was dismembered; Provence, Bur- 
 gundy, and the Empire fell to Lod Her. In 855, disgusted with 
 the world, he took the cowl, leaving his son, Louis II. , Emperor ; 
 his son Lod Her II., King of Lorraine ; and his son Earl, Xing of 
 Aries and Provence. 
 
 The Emperor Charles the Bald, who some time later made a 
 fresh division of the States, raised Aries into a kingdom, and gave 
 it for its king, Bozon, already Governor of Provence and Italy. ^ 
 The new kingdom, of which Aries was the capital, consisted of 
 Provence, Dauphiné, the Comtat Yenaissiu, the Principality of 
 
 * " Know all men, that tlic mighty prince Cliarles the Groat, KiiiR of France, having 
 laid siege to this town, which was in the power of the Infidels, and liaving rendered 
 liimself master of it hy the force of his arms; the Saracens who were left iu these 
 countries having come in great numbers to take possession of this town and fortify it : 
 the Prince advanced with his army to meet them, and gained a complete victor}' over 
 them. On which account wishing to give a proof of his gratitude to God, he dedicated 
 this temple to the honour of the Holy Cross; he also made it his carf to rebuild the 
 present monastery of Montmajour, dedicated to St. Peter. This edifice had been 
 destroyed by the Infidels, and rendered uninhabitable ; he restored it to its ancient 
 splendour, placed in it monks to perform divine service, endowed it in perpetuity, and 
 made it magnificent presents." 
 
 The following epitaph is siill to be seen there : — 
 
 "Many of the Franks who perished iu this combat repose in the chapel of tlJs 
 monixstery. 
 
 " BROTUtus, rraY iuk tbem :"
 
 S20 THE SOUTH OF FEAN'CE. 
 
 Orange, part of the Lyonnais, Bourgogne, Franche Comté, Pied- 
 mont, and Savoy as far as Geneva. 
 
 The kingdom of Arlos histed 255 years, and was governed by 
 eleven kings,* and, subsequently, by consul? ; ninety-nine years 
 passed in constant alternations from royalty to republicanism; and 
 finally, in 1220, the podestat was established. 
 
 It was during this period, and in the midst of civil broils, that 
 the splendid l)asilisk of St. Trophimus was built and the founda- 
 tion of the cloisters laid; Aries being already in possession of 
 Montmajour. It was then from the eleventh to the twelfth century 
 that religious civdisation bore fruit, and Christian art took root on 
 Pagan soil. 
 
 During the following 14i years the city, sometimes a republic, 
 sometimes a commonwealth, and sometimes a kingdom, passed 
 from the hands of the podestats into those of the religious commu- 
 nities ; from them to consuls, from consuls to seneschals, and from 
 seneschals to the Emperor Charles IV., who abdicated in favour of 
 Charles V. The abdication took place at Villeneuve-les-Avignon ; 
 and from this period the title of King of Aries ceased to belong to 
 the emperors, and the city became again subject to the Counts of 
 Provence, who were Kings of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem ; which 
 title was borne in 1 180 by the good King Rone, the crowned artist, 
 who consoled himself with his pencil and his viol for the loss of liis 
 sceptre and his three kingdoms. Two years later, Louia XI., as 
 heir to Charles III., assumed the title of Count of Provence, which 
 was borne by his successors, and Aries was re-united to France. 
 
 We ask pardon of our readers for this long archaeological-historical 
 dissertation, but it will not bo regretteil by the traveller who, like 
 us, arrives at Aries in the evening, and wishes to form some idea of 
 the town he is to inspect on the f >IIo\ving day. 
 
 Wc remained three days at Aries, for less time would not suIEco 
 to see and examine cver}'thing. Our first visit was to the Place des 
 BonlmmmcH. In a circuit of about fifty paces, it shows you the re- 
 mnins of three civilisations separated from each other by a thousand 
 years. The first is the obelisk of Kiryi'tim granite; t lie only one 
 which has been met with in France, and which, as we have said, was 
 n gift from Conslantine Id the town he was leaving; part of tho 
 facade of a large monument, which it is thought must have belonged 
 to the capilol, nnil of which nothing is left but a part of the friezo 
 and the two columns which support it; and the basilisk of St. Tro- 
 
 • Bof.on I. ; lAHiiii Hofon II. ; IIii • ip« I. ; Cnnrftd I. ; Ilodolphn III., railed tho 
 Rlntlifiil ; Oi-rnrdtKi, pnllrd tlin Umirprr; Coiirnd 11., cnllcd tlicHulic; llt-nry III., 
 tnlli-d tlic Black- Henry IV. j llciirj- V.; nnd Coiirnd III.
 
 pliîmus, an admirable companion to tliat of St. Gilles ; these two 
 basilisks are the more curious from their bciug, as we think, two 
 perfect monuments of Byzantine art in France. 
 
 One other remarkable thing is, that in the ornamental part of 
 the façade of St. Trophimus we recognise the effect produced upon 
 the artist by the models of ancient architecture wliich presented 
 themselves. He has surmounted the principal entrance with a tri- 
 angular y)*o;i^o«, like that still to be seen on the ruins of the capitol, 
 and ornamented the cornice with twining palm-leaves, the illegiti- 
 mate but acknowledged offspring of Homan architecture. 
 
 Near the church of St. Trophimus stands its cloister, half Eoman 
 and half Gothic, perhaps the most curious in France. By the profu- 
 sion of ornaments on the drapery of the figures executed on the 
 capitals of the Roman pillars, we easily recognise the Oriental style 
 of the twelfth century. Constantinople was endeavouring to recom- 
 pense Aries for having deprived it of the empire of the world. 
 
 The Amphitheatre is larger but in greater decay than that of 
 Nismes. When the Saracens devastated the south, part of the popu- 
 lation took refuge iu the arena, and, walling up its arched entrances, 
 made an impregnable fortress of the Eoman monument. Towers 
 were soon erected above the gates, houses were built with regularity, 
 and an isolated but complete town rose in the heart of the city, 
 having its suburbs, its ramparts, its streets, market-place and church. 
 Of this strange city but one house is left, the remainder having been 
 demolished when the Government at last discovered that Nismes 
 and Aries possessed works of art which might render even Eome 
 jealous. Next in importance to the arena is the theatre, the erection 
 of which is of earlier date than the Eoman conquest, and goes back 
 as far as the time of the Greek colonies. According to a poem of 
 Festus Avienus, Aries received from its neighbours of Marseilles 
 the surname of Theline, on account of the fruitfulness of the soil. 
 The descendants of Euxcne had already given it their gods, as is 
 proved by the fragments discovered of the temple of Diana of 
 Ephesus ; they wished to introduce their poets, so they gave Aries 
 a theatre, which was not completed when the Eomans succeeded 
 them. This explains the difference of the workmanship of the t«-o 
 columns of marble, still standing, which support a fi'agment of 
 architectui'e \\ ith a frieze above it, and the opposite side, now called 
 the tower of Eolaud, the style of which is barbarous. 
 
 Next comes the Eliscamp promenade, so called from, two Latin 
 words, elisci campl. This was formerly a large cemetery, in which 
 Pagans and Christians, differing in faith, but with the same hope, were 
 laid side by side. Their tombs are intermingled, but those of the
 
 322 THE SOFTH OF FKANCE, 
 
 Papanscan be recognised by the D..M. which recommends their spirits 
 to their gods, and those of the Christians by the cross which places 
 them under the protection of the Saviour. Ahuost all these tombs 
 have been opened, some of them have been carried away by the 
 inhabitants of La Crau to make troughs and paving-stones ; others, 
 of which the tops only have been used, are open and empty. Of the 
 latter some still show the stone separation which prevented husband 
 and wife, though reposing in the same grave, from ever intermingling 
 their bones ; and at short distances the sound of the earth under 
 the foot that presses it proves that at the side of these desecrated 
 tombs some still remain whicli neither curiosity nor avarice have yet 
 ^ profaned. 
 
 The museum of Aries, ^^hi(•h that of Paris has deprived of its 
 chief ornament, the A'enus and her Mirror, has been enriched by the 
 spoils of the other monuments. Each has furnished some share of 
 its relics, but its greatest treasures have been brouglit from the 
 field of the dead. I know no collection so rich in tombs of the 
 Empire, the bas-reliefs of which might serve as a history of the de- 
 cline of art. The oldest, I think, dates as far back as the beginning 
 . of the fcurtli century. 
 
 Government gives 700,000 francs yearly for the excavations at 
 Aries, but it would do better to send a préfet who understood art, 
 and place at his disposal a battalion of pioneers. "We have an army 
 of 'lOO.OOJ men, out of whom 350,000 are idle. Would there be 
 any dilTicully in sending live huudrcd to be employed in clearing 
 this new Pom{>oii? 
 
 It is interesting to walk round Aries, the ramparts of which 
 almost form a second miuscum ; at about every twenty yards you 
 find, incriistcd in (he wall, the shaft of a pillar or the fragment of a 
 capital. Wherever the Uoiuaiis had creeled monunuMits. these 
 monuments had been ejnployed to build cities, with Ihcir churches 
 and ramparts; and yel you hardly perceive that any parts are 
 missing of these gigantic edifices. 
 
 One of (he three days we pa.ssed at Aries was a holi.lay, or rather 
 a market-day. There was u sheep-fair; from 125.000 to 1:JO,(X)0 sheep 
 were penned at the foot of (he ramparts, on the south side. This 
 event, trilling enough in itself, had an agncablc circct upon me, .'is 
 a 8(ranger; it brought from the houses, in (heir holiday dresses, 
 the Arlcsii-nni-H. whom 1 had hither(o only seen fetching water or 
 8|)innnig at their doors. About three or four in the afternoon, 
 abandoning (he outward boulevard to the dandies of the town, they 
 spread through the streets, walking together in small jjarties of six 
 or eight, Htop[iing at almost every door to ch;it, fonning noisy laugh-
 
 ATJLES. 223 
 
 ing groups. Tbcir reputation for beauty is well deserved; and not 
 only are they beautiful but f^raoefuj and elegant. Their features, 
 which are extremely delicate, are mostly in the Grecian style; they 
 have generally brown hair and soft black eyes, such as I have only 
 seen among the Indians and Arabians. Among a group of lonians is 
 frequently to be seen a young girl, evidently of Saracenic origin, by 
 her long well- formed eye, olive complexion, her flexible form, and 
 child-like foot; or a tall woman of Gallic blood, with fair hair and 
 blue eyes, with a quiet and composed bearing like that of an ancient 
 Druidess. Almost all are as fresh-looking and as much developed 
 as the Dutch women; for the moisture of the climate, which will 
 destroy their evanescent beauty before they are thirty, gives them 
 the delicate tints of the flowers which blossom in marsh}^ grounds 
 or near the banks of rivers. 
 
 Unfortunately for the painter and poet wlio seeks the picturesque 
 and the beautiful, these graceful daughters of Bellovesa, Euxene, 
 Constantine and Abderahmen, lost part of their charms when they 
 renounced their national costume; which, uniting for them all the 
 ages of the past, consisted of the short tunic of the Spartan girls, 
 the corsage and black mantilla of the Spaniards, the buckled shoe 
 of the llomaus, and the large bracelet and close-fitting hood of the 
 Gauls. 
 
 Of these picturesque vestments the Arlcsicnnes have preserved 
 only their antique and singular head-dress, which, unsuited as it 
 seems to the long waist aud loose sleeve, still gives them an interest- 
 ing appearance, which their lovers are far from possessing. The 
 Arlesiens have nothing remarkable about them ; thus it is a common 
 thing to cite the men of Tarascon and the women of Aries, as they 
 do the women of Kome and the men of jS^aples. 
 
 Is it not sti'ange that in national costumes the last thing abandoned 
 is the head-dress ? In all the seaports of the south you meet in the 
 streets numbers of Turks and Greeks who have assumed coats and 
 trousers, but rigidly preserve the turban. Tiie ambassadors of 
 the Sublime Porte show us this strange mixture every daj', when 
 they enter our saloons and theatres in the French costume. 
 
 After the city of ruins ceases to be galvanised by a fete or a 
 market, it again slumbers in its Roman dust. Kesembling more a 
 military tent which has been abandoned than an inhabited city, 
 Aries was an imperial not a sovereign town. Embellished and deco- 
 rated by a whim, deserted by caprice, this royal mistress, after five 
 centuries, again revived. Its situation on the Ehone, a source of 
 riches when its walls contained a magnificent emperor or warlike 
 king, is of no value now that it is only a third-rate city. Under
 
 224 THE SOUTH OF FHAXCE. 
 
 the republic of the empire, Aries recovered a temporary appearance 
 of life; for eomaierce, driven from the seas, took refuge in the rivers, 
 causin<T internal trade to increase. Therefore all the seamen, porters, 
 and those employed about the docks, here as at Avignon, are repub- 
 licans ; while, on the other hand, the gentlemen, shopkeepers, and 
 peasantry are mostly Carlists. The city is divided between the two 
 parties, as everywhere else; the upper town, which was at lirst a 
 feudal fortress, is aristocratic, while the lower town, consisting at 
 first of cabins built near the castle, which by degrees have been 
 changed into houses, remembering its origin, is almost entirely de- 
 mocratic. 
 
 Aries, wldch from declining had become stationary, now begins to 
 progress, slowly and with faltering steps, more like the infirmity of 
 age than the weakness of childhood. Though numbering 1S,00(.» 
 inhabitants it has but one milliner, and she cannot support herself 
 b}- her business ; and during the last five years only a bookseller, 
 with patronage from Aix and Maiveilles, has been enabled to main- 
 tain himself there. The only books sold there before were pra^'er- 
 books I)rought round by hawkers. 
 
 Aries, therefore, in our opinion, ouglit not to be looked upon as a 
 living but a dead town ; ail that can be done to re-animato its 
 trade and commerce would be thrown away and lost ; poets and 
 artists should go in pilgrimage there, not traders or merchants. 
 The kings of ^^aples never attempted to re-people Ilerculancum and 
 Pompeii, and tliey were right ; a tomb is only poetical wlien mute, 
 and its greatest solemnity comes from its silence and solitude. 
 
 Aries is a tomb, the tomb of a people and of civilisation, a (omb 
 like those of the b:>rbarian warriors, with whom were buried tlieir 
 gold, tbeir wea])i)iis and their goils. The modern cit}' is encamped 
 \\\Km a scpuiclirc; and llie earth on which it stands contains as much 
 w caltb witiiin its bosom as waut and misery ujion its surface. 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 At a few miles' distance from Aries, is a town which is still more 
 dull, secluded, and without life. The translator of Byron, the author 
 of " Charles Edward," who is the only literary celebrity which Arks 
 has produced, had recommended me strongly not to pass through his 
 native town without visiting the site of the ancient Court of Love, 
 in Provence; which gave Aries its jwdestas, Oraiige its princes, the 
 Hague its stadtholders, and Amsterdam and London then- kings. 
 Consequently, as soon as we had visited all that was remarkable in 
 Aries, we bent our course towards Les Baux. 
 
 The road is quite in harmony with the place to ^^•hich it leads. 
 Passing by the larger and smaller ponds of Peluquc, it keeps in a 
 line for some distance with a Roman aqueduct, which commences 
 close to a mountain near Orgon, crosses the road of Aix a little 
 above Elscmat, goes bj- the side of St. Remy, and is lost sight of 
 in the neighbourhood of Aries. We followed it into a species of 
 waste full of rushes and reeds, the marshy soil of which appeared to 
 have formed the bed of some former pool. We left the aqueduct of 
 Aries, to follow that of Barbegal, and found ourselves in the midst 
 of mountains, which were quite as dull as the desolate plains we hud 
 just quitted. At last we arrived at Maussanc, and were oflered 
 refreshments, as we should have some trouble to get any either at 
 Manville or Les Baux. 
 
 At half a league from ]\Iaussane, in making the détour of a moun- 
 tain, we caught sight of the to\^^l which we were about to visit, in 
 the midst of a naked coimtry, of a reddish appearance. We pro- 
 ceeded along a steep and winding path, and made om- approaci; 
 without seeing any signs such as those wliich usually announce the 
 vicinitj' of a place full of human life ; without hearing a breath 
 which could indicate the existence of a town. The lact is, that the 
 inhabitants have disappeared, and that the unfortimate town is dead 
 — completely dead. It has died from neglect, from exhaustion, from 
 stai-vation ; because a road which used to lead from Orgon to Aries, 
 and which was, indeed, the artery through which the blood reached
 
 ::o THE SOUTH of fkance. 
 
 its heart, has received another direction, or been cntii'cly lost from 
 the period ■when the splendour of Provence first began to decay. 
 Afterwards it could no more exist than a young gii-1, who having 
 lived only in love, has had her love taken away from her. 
 
 By degrees, a portion ot the inhabitants, th'cd of the soUtude 
 whicli reigned throughout the place, forsook it, in order to inhabit 
 Orgon, Tarascon, or Aries ; the remainder, with a rcHgious hdeUty lo 
 the paternal roof, died in their seclusion. No persons either rcjilaccd 
 the exiles, or succeeded the dead ; and the uninhabited city at last 
 stood exposed, abandoned, grieving, and moiu'ning on the highway 
 like a beggar seeking alms. 
 
 Half way up the path wc met with the first sign of this tomb, in 
 the shape of a cross. Decay had spread to the symbol of etei'nal re- 
 demption, equally with all the surrounding objects. The legs of the 
 ttaviom- were broken, and the figure was hanging by one of its wiry 
 arms to one of the ii'on arms of the cross. 
 
 A Uttlc fmther on wc tmnied a fi-esh corner, and found ourselves 
 opposite the lower gate of the town. The wooden panels hud been 
 taken away, doubtless in order to be made into firewood, while the 
 iron bars had been torn away by some gipsy for the purpose of being 
 sold. AVe entered one of tlie streets, and found all the windows and 
 doors open. "\Vc saw houses, the porticoes of which wei*e supported 
 by columns of the period of the lienaissance, and adorned with ba- 
 ronial escutcheons. Wc saw hospitals where there were neither 
 nmses nor patients ; where the groans of tlie sick and the last siglis 
 of the dying had cea«ed to be heaid. Wc saw an old castle cut out 
 of a rock, doubtless in remembrance of the parable in the Gosj)el ; but 
 this rock had been rounded into towers, cut into compai'tments, and 
 variously excavated, until at length the base gave way, and the mo- 
 nolithic castle fell in one piece, as if overturni'd by the hand of a giant. 
 
 The only tiling in tolerable ])resei*vat ion was the cemetery, ("lose 
 to the castle, on an espliinade wliich overlooks the entire valley, hun- 
 dreds of tombs, of all sizes, and destined for persons of dilierent ages, 
 have been built. There ai'c tombs for Die mother, tombs for the old 
 man, and tombs for the diild. Have they already served their pm*- 
 ])0HC ; and has a sacrilegious hand uncovered tluin, and removed tlieir 
 l)oncs? Or are tliey still undeliled ; and did the prodigality of 
 the grave-digger surpass the grcidiness of death, and provide all 
 tliese tombs at the very time when there ceiujed to be any corpses to 
 l)laco in tliem ? 
 
 I Mit down in the middle of lliis strange cemetery, with my feet 
 nonf,'iiij; into a tomb, and remained with my <"y('s fixed on tliis extra- 
 ordinarj- town, — habitable, and yet uniuli.ibilcil ; dfud. yet prt'si iviiig
 
 LES EAUX. 2,>7 
 
 tlic aspect of life ; resembling, in fiiie, a dead man clothed in the usual 
 dress, placed erect, and painted. I fell into one of those states of 
 sadness, which would be less melancholy accompanied by tears, less 
 eloquent expressed by words, less heart-rending proclaimed by sobs. 
 
 I was awakened from this condition by the soimd of a bell, and 
 rose like a man who opens his eyes and seeks for an explanation of 
 some di'cam which has continued after his sleep has ceased. 15ut my 
 guide could not explain it, and I accordingly prepared to seek an 
 interpretation at the real source. I hastened, then, towai'ds the church, 
 the door of which was open, like all the others. I ascended about 
 ten steps, which led to the peristyle, and entered. 
 
 After having vainly endeavoured to moisten my fingers in the 
 hêniticr (which appeared as if it had been determined to overwhelm me 
 in one day with all the diflferent aspects of death), the saddest spec- 
 tacle was presented to my eyes. 
 
 At the foot of the altar, on an uncovered bier, lay the body of a 
 little girl of from nine to ten years of age. On either side of the 
 coffin knelt her two sisters ; the mother was weeping in a corner ; 
 and the brother was himself tolling the bell, and calling on God to 
 be present at this ceremony, from which the priest was absent. A 
 dozen beggars, who form the whole population of Les Baux, were 
 scattered about the other parts of the church. 
 
 No mass was said for the soul of this poor child ; nothing but 
 prayers faintly uttered, with sighing and sobbing. Four poor men, 
 who had put on their best clothes for the solemn occasion, then raised 
 the coffin, left the chm-ch, followed by the remainder of the cortèi/e, 
 walked towards the upper town, entered the hospital, and aj^proaching 
 one of the tombs, deposited the bier by its side. The mother drew 
 near, kissed her child once more, her daughters did the same, and 
 last of all, her son, who replaced the covering over the face of the 
 corpse. A man then took from behind a stone a hammer, some nails, 
 and a plank ; the lid of the coffin was nailed down, and it was then 
 deposited in the grave. The earth was rolled upon it with that noise, 
 the deep echo of which sounds to us of eternity ; and when the last sho- 
 vel full had covered it over, the young girls approached, and threw 
 bouquets of white flowers, which they had gathered in the neighboiu"- 
 hood, into the tomb. I had no bouquet, and threw down my purse ; 
 one of the beggars picked it up and presented it to the mother, who 
 did not thank me, but wept bitterly. 
 
 I then left the hospital, before tlie façade of which (it dates from 
 the JRenoi'ssance, and its entablature is crumbling away, in spite 
 of the nine columns which support it) is a tciTacc, from which an 
 extensive view is obtained. On the south is the A'ast blue ocean.
 
 CC8 THE SOUTH OF FnANCE, 
 
 Spotted with white sails ; on the east, the pUxin whcie Maiius de- 
 feated the Cimbiic-Tcutoni, which is overlooked by Mount Victoire, 
 where the trophies gathered on the field of battle were erected ; on 
 the north and west arc the hospital and the town. 
 
 The surrounding landscape was very beautiful ; and in the 
 midst cf it was the scene of a most celebrated occurrence. The 
 genius of Kome had tlicre met with one of its greatest triumphs. 
 Two hundred thousand barbarians had been left dead in the valley as 
 a hccatoml) ; and their bodies, unburied, washed by the rain, and 
 scorched by tlie sun, gradually decomposed in those fields, which 
 derived their ancient name of Caiitpi putridi, and tlieir modern one 
 of Fourrière, from these fetid remains. But nature soon repaired 
 these ravages. The soil produced stronger grass and richer corn 
 in those places where it had been so thickly manured ; and when the 
 liarvest had been gathered in, there remained on the latal field, which 
 had been the cemetery of an entire people, nothing but large whitened 
 bones, of which the peasants made spectral-looking IVnees for their 
 vines. 
 
 Any other daj', at any other time, perhaps, I sliouldhave descended 
 from the rock to the plain, — I should have walked on till I came to 
 the shores of the Canus, and found the Holy Mountain, which the 
 Provençal sailor, standing on the deck of liis vessel, points out in the 
 distance to travellers. After this I should have seai'ched for the 
 romains of the pyramid, where bold bas i*eliefs I'cpresentcd Marins, 
 standing on shields borne aloft by his soldiers, and ])r()claimed Iiii- 
 "wrtifor. I should have found some peasant who would have related to 
 me,iis if it had been an event of yesterday, the battle which took place 
 two thousand years ago. He would have tol<] me^ — so vivid arc the 
 traditions of this great defeat at tlie spot whei'c it took ])'.ace — how 
 the Roman general brought with him a Syrian Prophetess, in honour 
 of whom he named the village of Martigues ; and who, the daj' before 
 the battle, was carried in a gilt litter through the ranks of the army, 
 to which she promised victory. He would liavc siiown me the place 
 where Marius pointed out the river, in fnmt of which the enemy had 
 stationed tlicmselvos, and said to his soldiers, who, dying of thirst, 
 demanded drink of him, "You are nun, and there is iilentyof water;" 
 and where the soldiers, the same eve iiing, drank with avidity the red 
 and blood-stained water. Afterwards ho Avould liave told mo of the 
 fete wliiili is kept up in the country in memory of the victory; 
 and every year, in tlie month of May, tiie nei;;hlK)uring jjopulation 
 flock togetlier, and a Cliristian jn-ocession, carrying tlie banner of 
 the cross, enters the I'agaii temple built by Marius; llio men 
 crowntd with leaves, as inilih nis of triiiiniib. mihI tl;r wonu'U w itU
 
 LES UAUX. 2J9 
 
 garlands of flowers : then, above the crumbling ■walls of Fourrière, he 
 would have shown me the arms of the luwn, which, till the revolu- 
 tion, were a Roman general cari'ied on a shield by two soldiers. 
 
 But now I had other thoughts ; my mind was not occupied by the 
 slaughter of an army, and the tomb of a i)eoplc; I saw only the death 
 of a beggar girl, the tomb of a child. I felt a wish not to seek poetry 
 and history on the battle-field, but reflection and religion in the little 
 church. I returned, and found it silent and empty ; I turned into the 
 darkest part, and, leaning against a column, I fell into one of those 
 pious reveries, which, when the lips fail to move, form the prayer 
 of the heart. 
 
 I do not knov>- how long I remained thus, seized by a religious 
 enthusiasm, which has such an effect on me, that when among the 
 Chatrcux of Grenoble, and the Capuchins of Syracuse, I was obliged 
 to leave these places abruptly, to overcome my desire to enter a clois- 
 ter : but the time must have been long, for I did not awake from this 
 species of trance till my guide came to tell me night was coming on, 
 and that it was time to return to Aries. A\TtLen I quitted the church 
 I felt a strong desire to carry away with nae some memorial of it. 
 Thus it is with every deep emotion we experience. At the moment 
 our feelings overcome and enthral us, we seek to perpetuate them, and 
 we know that the only waj' to succeed in this endeavour, is to revive 
 them by the sight of an object which reminds us of them j so well 
 arc we aware of our inability to preserve, unaided, even the memory 
 of them. But at the same moment, I reflected that this pious robbery 
 of a church, pure as it might be in the eyes of God, who knew with 
 what religious intention I should have committed it, was, neverthe- 
 less, a theft in the house of God, and consequently a sacrilege. Then 
 I thought of a plan which would reconcile my desire and my con- 
 science; this was to leave, in i)lace of what I took, a sum four times 
 its value, Avhich the first poor person who came to pray would profit 
 by. I then took in one h.and a little worm-eaten wooden figure of a 
 saint, but putting the other into my pocket, recollected I had given 
 my purse to the mother of the little beggar girl I had seen buried. 
 I was going to replace the saint on the altar, when the sight of my 
 guide relieved me from my perplexity. I asked if he had any money 
 with him ; he gave me ten francs, which was all lie had. I put them 
 in the place of the statuette ; and, a little reassured, carried it away 
 Anth less fear. 
 
 Now, shall I pass from my recital to my confessional ? At the 
 risk of bringing to the lips of some of my readers the disdainful and 
 contemptuous smile of Voltairian philosophy, shall I relate to all the 
 world what I should, perhaps, only tell the priest ? Yes ; for some
 
 230 THE SOCTII OF FRANCJi. 
 
 poetical and religious minds will understand mc; besides, disscctioa 
 is ahvays interesting, particidarly when made upon a living body. 
 
 I have said that, thanks to the ten francs, I carried away the saint 
 with less fear. Still, this sort of purchase was far from satisfying 
 me, either because the objects that I had seen during the day, or the 
 simple, but deeply sad ceremony, which had touched my heai-t, had 
 excited my mind, and, by its over excitement, weakened it. I loft 
 the chmxh that had beheld my action — which I know not what to 
 term, for I did not think it guilty, yet could not tliink it innocent 
 — with terror in my soul. Night, which was rapidly approacliing, 
 contributed to increase this feeling. I accompanied my guide along 
 the road leading to Maussane, and reached that village without 
 having exchanged a syllabic with him. 
 
 Our cai'riage was waiting there for us; Eoycr harnessed the horse. 
 During this time I saw my gun, vxliich 1 had left on the chimncj'- 
 placc in the morning, and dreading an accident, which I should not 
 have thought of at anj- other time, would not take it with mo 
 loaded, feai'ing the jolting of the cabriolet should have caused it to go 
 off. I therefore went into the garden to discharge it in the open aii-; 
 and as I raised it to my shoulder an idea for the first time struck mc, 
 who had been a sportsman from my childhood, that the barrel might 
 burst and blow off mj- hand. I laughed at the idea, raised the gun 
 to my shoulder a second time, and put my finger on the trigger, but 
 it flashed in the jjan ; I had forgotten to prime it. I thought this a 
 warning, opened the lock of my gun, took out the balls, put them 
 into my bullet-case, and returned to the kitchen. 1 there found 
 IJoyer, who had finislicd his operations ; the horse and the cabriolet 
 were waiting at the door. I went out to enter the carriage, but as my 
 foot was on the step my superstitious fears retm-ned. I recollected the 
 road we were to take led amongst precipices. I thought, ns I had 
 thouglit about my gun, that if I had done wrong, God could punish 
 mc in one way as well as another; and, not wishing to risk it, ordered 
 the cabriolet to go on while I followed it. Boyer, who could not 
 understand this mania for walking alone when I could have ridden 
 eonifortably with liini, stopped rciKatedly to ask if I would not get 
 in, but 1 jxrsisted in my refusal; and yet I was fatigued, more lî'om 
 agitation than travelling, and more from mind than body. 
 
 We took the wrong turning at St. Martin's cfl* Fonvitlle, I do not 
 know which; ho that instead of rcturning by llartcgal we came by 
 Lc Cimtekt. Wc entered a kind of little forest, and had hardly 
 walked a quarter of a league when we saw some ruins on an 
 eminence. IJoyer told me they were the ruins of the Abbey Mont- 
 majour, which we have spoken of in our liislorical sketch of Aries.
 
 LES BAUX. 231 
 
 Seen by night it is a magnificent object, and the moon was 
 sufficiently bright for us to see all the details of it. I advanced, 
 intending to pass under its crumbling arches; but the same idea which 
 had taken such hold of my mind returned and stopped me at the 
 threshold ; a stone might fall from the roof and injure me. 
 
 On reaching Aries, I shut myself in my room ; I took out the 
 saint, placed it on the drawers, and kneeling before it prayed, — a 
 thing whicli I must acknowledge I had not done for some time 
 previous. 
 
 The next morning, Boyer sent the saint to be placed among the 
 things collected on my route, which were to be sent dii-ect from 
 Avignon to Paris. Had I kept it amongst my luggage, I should 
 probably not have dared to continue my journey. 
 
 Now, I acknowledge that there is a gi-eat deal of hardihood in my 
 relating this story, but it is what I owed to m.y i-eaders; for, con- 
 sidered as a piece of anatomy of the human heart, it is, if not the 
 most interesting, certainly the most curious thing wliicli happened to 
 me during my travels. 
 
 Wc devoted the remainder of the day to taking views of the 
 town and making sketches of the monuments; and the next morning, 
 before daybreak, were on our road to Marseilles.
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 CRAU AND CAMAllGUK, 
 
 Two courses arc open to the traveller from Aries to Marseilles — the 
 loutc by sea and the route by land. The route by sea, by the steamer 
 and the Gulf of Lyons; the route by land, by the stage and the 
 canal of IJouc. Perhaps it may be considered that the name given 
 to this latter route is not altogether ajtpropriate ; nevertheless, it is so 
 called. 
 
 The ways of Providence arc inscrutable. On one occasion I be- 
 took myself to Madame Saquis' to ^vitncss a pantomime called the 
 JInd Bull — a very pretty piece of i)crformance, with a literary dash 
 aV)out it, remarkable for its florid style and high-flown sentiment, and 
 whidi had been recommended to my notice by the Joiinidl des 
 JJchats ; but, from first to last, I looked in vain for the interesting 
 iinimal wliicli liad considerately lent its name to the production. 
 
 On the fall of the curtain I went out, and on my way inquired of 
 tlic female box-keeper why the piece mIucIi I luul just seen was 
 called the Mad IJull. 
 
 " JJecause thai is its title," was her rejily. 
 
 I went away, of course liighly satislicd with the explanation. 
 
 As we had had but a very sorry l)reakfa.st while on our jou»'ney, 
 we luitinally incjiiired wliere we could dine, and were informed wo 
 could do so at tlie town of Pouc. As we were ignorant of the 
 ]>cc\iliar attractions of that town, we ascended llie roof of tlu- coach, 
 well i)icased witli the jjrospcct at least of a dinner. 
 
 Our object in thus taking uj) tliis elevated i)osition was to observe 
 the country; for the excavations of the canal liaving been thrown \\\^ 
 slope-like on either side, any one below might fancy liimsclf, without 
 nnidi stretch of imagination, travelling through a wheel-rut. 
 
 The country, without oM'ering much variety of .scenery, may be 
 considered as somewhat peculiar; for on the right lies the ("amargue, 
 ^\h(■I•t', according to tlie ])rovcrb, " Ia-s chassems n(< frouvint jjas Tine 
 jiicrre à jrter ii leurs chiens;" and to the left, tin- C'rau, which maybe 
 described as literally jiavcd with flints. 
 
 The Camargue, or camp of Marius, "Caii Marii ager" (a rather
 
 CKAU AND CAMAIIGUE. 2:j3 
 
 indifferent etymology, hy-thc-byc), is the Delta of the Klionc; which 
 means, that our geof,'raj)hers have discovered a similai'ity between its 
 shape and that of a Greek 1), — for the same reason which led Polybius 
 to liken Italy to a triangle ; or to the leaf of an oak, according to 
 Pliny ; or, according to M. Piquet, to a boot. It is an immense 
 swamp, over which the sea rolled some two thousand years ago, but 
 from which it appears to have just receded. Here and there, in 
 the midst of these pontine marshes of France, a T)oor habitation 
 rises into view, where the hunter who is lost in these solitudes is 
 sure of meeting with the hospitality of the desert. The peasanc 
 possesses only a morsel of bread and a little water ; but of that 
 bread and of that water, half is at the service of him who hungers 
 or thirsts. 
 
 The Camargue, uninhabited and uninhabitable as it is, has neverthe- 
 less its religious traditions and its historical associations — the former, 
 in connexion with the village of Saintes Maries, abridged into the 
 Village of Saints ; the latter, with the Knights of St, John of Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 The village of Saintes Maries, formerly called Our Lady of the 
 Sea, is indebted for its modern name to King lléué. King lîéué, in 
 his character of poet, was acquainted with the old Proven(;al legend 
 which states, that after the death of Christ, the Jews placed jSIary 
 ?\Iagdalen, the two Marys, Martha, ]Marcella, their servants, Lazarus, 
 and Maximin in a boat, and, taking advantage of a storm, pushed 
 the boat off to sea, that they might all perish. Eut God abandons 
 not his servants. The sea became calm ; a gentle wind carried the 
 boat away from the shore. During the whole of the passage, which 
 lasted two months, twice daily the Lord occasioned manna to rain 
 down. At last, one fine evening, the holy men and the holy women 
 landed at the most forward point of the Camargue, in a poor village 
 inhabited by some fishermen. Mary ^Magdalen directed lier steps to 
 Sainte-Bcaumc ; Martha, to Tarascon, where we have seen her tomb 
 in passing ; St. Maximin took the road to Aries, and St. Lazarus the 
 one to Marseilles. As for the two Marys and ^larcella, they 
 remained at the village of Our Lady of the Sea, where they died 
 after having converted its inhabitants to the Christian faith. 
 
 King Kéné not only knew this legend, but had put it into verse, 
 had set it to music, and had pencilled it forth on canvas ; when, one 
 night, wishing to give him an unequivocal proof of their gratitude, 
 the holyAvomen of Our Ladj' of the Sea appeared to him, and com- 
 manded him to go in quest of their relics, which they directed him, 
 to take out of the earth, and erect a suitable tomb over them. 
 As may be well supposed, the good King Kéné did not require to be
 
 £;;4 THE SOCTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 told twif'c. -Vt break of day, he mounted his horse; hunjj at his side 
 that purse which he always earned out full, and which he always 
 brought back empty; took his album, to sketch oft\iny urettyface he 
 might meet on the road, and set out towards Our Lady of the Sea. 
 
 It is further stated, that King Ki'mé found the relics at the spot 
 indicated. It was on that occasion that the good king changed the 
 name of Our Lady of the Sea, to that of Saiutcs-Maries — more ap- 
 propriate on account of the treasures which it possessed. The news 
 of this discovery spreading through France, Italy, and Spain, pil- 
 grims came hither in crowds ; cveiy house became, in consequence, 
 an inn, and eveiy innkeeper a millionaire. The prosperous stai* 
 of the village continued in the ascendant till the middle of the 
 sixteenth century, when the progress of religious reform giving rise 
 to doubts, indifference naturally followed. The inhabitants, on the 
 breaking out of the French Revolution, expecting persecution, were 
 by persecution forgotten, and from that time have sunk into abject 
 poverty. 
 
 Indeed, notwithstanding the annual CKposition of relics, which 
 had in other times amassed, on a fête day, a fortune for a year, 
 this poor village has fallen so rapidly into decay, from slieer lack of 
 pilgi-ims, that it has returned to its original condition — its innkeepers 
 becoming again fishermen : besides, since the establishment of steamers, 
 tlie sea has become so destitute of fish, that these unfortunate men 
 can scarcely obtain the common necessaries of life. Here they con- 
 tinue, a degenerate and wretched race, living only to die on the 
 shores of tlieir ancestors. If a habitation falls, there it lies — tlic 
 family which once occupied it goes fortli to beggary ; so vapidly, 
 indeed, is the village disappeai-ing, that in fifty years the churili 
 only will be left standing, and in three or four centuries, the legend 
 alone of its existence will be left. 
 
 During our stay at Aries, a rather sijigulai- event occuiTcd at the 
 village of Sain les- Maries, winch will convey a pretty tolerable idea 
 of the spirit of its worthy inhabitants. The church of the Saints, 
 near wliich is a lioly well, yielding \cry excellent water, though 
 scarcely one liundrcd feet from the sea, rejoices in a worthy old curé, 
 whose brother had formerly discharged the duties of pilot on tJiis 
 coast. On retiring from business, the gallant old sailor carried along 
 with him tlie small annuity of two liundrcd and iifty fraius, to defray 
 the large expenses necessarily attendant ujjon the habits of an iiivctc- 
 rat<' smoker and liard drinker. His brother, the cun', though jwssess- 
 ing scarcely the means of Hiibsistence for hiniself, undertook to share 
 tlmt little with him, provided ho would give over liis peculiar pro- 
 pensity for swearing, — a condition wiiieh was readily acceded to by
 
 CRAV AND CAMAnCUE. 23S 
 
 the latter ; but as habit, however, is but second nature, oui' worthy 
 pilot only swore, if possible, more briskly than ever. The curé, 
 finding admonitions useless, at first simply blessed himself on each 
 occasion, but idtimately did not even this, committing Ids brother to 
 the mercy of God, who punishes, he argued, not words so much as 
 intentions ; for his brother was one of those good-natm'cd souls who 
 had never in his life been guilty of an evil intent. Matters had thus 
 progressed for five or six years, when, towards the close of the sixth, 
 the beadle died. Now, as the deceased had monopolized in liis own 
 person the duties of beadle, clerk, and vestry-keeper, the post which 
 thus became vacant, and which produced, independently of baptismal, 
 marriage, and bui-ial fees, a fixed income of one hundred francs, was 
 worth accepting. The curé, reflecting that the addition of one hun- 
 dred and fifty or two hundred francs would procui-e many domestic 
 comforts, ofi'ered his brother the berth, which was accepted by the 
 latter, on the condition that he should be allowed to issue liis orders in 
 sea phi'aseology ; observing, in virtue of the old axiom, that a habit 
 was more easily acquii-ed than lost. As the cui-é saw nothing to object 
 to in this proposition, the pilot was, in consequence, inducted the 
 following Sunday into his new ofifice. Clad in his cape, and with 
 the cross in his hand, he paraded himself up and down the church, 
 and on the chanting of the Epistle, very adroitly contrived to pass 
 the Gospel-book from starboard to larboard. At first, as may be 
 supposed, the curé was somewhat scandalized at hearing the sacristy 
 called the captain's cabin, and the tabernacle the bread-safe. He, 
 however, soon became accustomed to this, as to other tilings, being 
 supported in his belief that such trifles were inofi"ensive in the sight of 
 God, who gave the best proofs of his good feeling for the parsonage 
 bj- blessing its inhabitants with excellent health. 
 
 The two brothers continued thus to pull together for nearly fifteen 
 years, when one morning an affair of importance calling the good curé 
 to Aries, he started on his journey, having previously satisfied himself 
 that no expected birth or contemplated marriage would be inconve- 
 nienced by his absence. It is true there was a sick person, but as the 
 doctor had assured him that he would keep the patient alive till his 
 return, he departed thoroughly easy in his mind. 
 
 That same night the invalid died. 
 
 This was considered an event of a very pei-plexing nature in the 
 village of the Saints. As the curé was not expected to return for 
 thi-ee or four days, and as it was next to an impossibility to send for 
 him, there being no communication between the village of Saints and 
 Aries save through a messenger to the town of Constantin once 
 a week, and with whom, on the present occasion, the curé had set out,
 
 23C THE SOUTH OF FILVNCE. 
 
 it became evident that as the deceased could not be induced to await 
 the cure's return belorc dying, it would be equally impossible to defer 
 his bm-ial. "Whereupon the relatives, tallini; upon the cure's brother, 
 made known to him their pitiable situation. Tlie ex-pilot, utter 
 listening to all they had to say, inquired of them if they had nothing 
 more than that to trouble them ? 
 
 " Diantre!" was their reply, " wc find it quite enough." 
 "The deceased was not a heathen ?" inquii-cd the beadle. 
 " He was a Catholic, like us," 
 
 " AVell, then ! send me some one to serve mass, and make the 
 responses. I will inter him myself, and do it quite as well as my 
 brother, you may depend on it." 
 
 "Done!" thev replied; '• wc did not think of that; you arc 
 i-ight." 
 
 And away they went for the corpse, while the reverend sailor 
 decked himself out in the captain's cabin in the sacerdotal robes ; 
 mass was performed, and the dead was interred ; tlie entire village 
 assisting at the ceremony and praying over the grave, no one feeling 
 scandalized thereat. 
 
 The curé, on his return, inquired after the invalid. 
 " He is stowed away," replied the pilot, " in the sliip's hold." 
 On the whole story being communicated to liim, tlic good curé, 
 instead of expressing much astonishment at tlic jiroceeding, was 
 delighted to find, that in case of absence or illness, lie could depend 
 ujjon one so well calculated to discharge the functions of his office. 
 
 AVe will now skip back to the fovnteenth century, and pass at 
 once from Saintes-Maries to tlie C'lievalier Dieudonné do Gozon. 
 
 The Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, whicli order, as is well 
 known, was founded by Gerard Tauques, a l'rovcnçal gentleman, wlioso 
 birthplace wc shall meet with by-and-bye at Martigues, inliabited 
 during the fourteenth centuiy the island of llliodes, from wlienco 
 they derive their name. Now, llliodes is derived from tlic IMiœnician 
 word Rod, signifying serjjent. This name originated, as no doubt 
 will be infened, in a cause, and tliat cause fnmi the fact tliat innu- 
 merable reptih's from time immemorial had nuidc this land of colossal 
 notoriety their lionie. 
 
 It is, however, only fair to observe, tliat tliesc same serpents begun 
 rn])i(lly to dimiiiisli in nimibcr during tlie two centuries that these 
 warrior monks occupied the island, who, no doubt, during their spare 
 liours, amused themselves in hunting them down. The result of their 
 activity was such, that the notion soon became prevalent throughout 
 the commandery that the dreaded enemies had been extirpated, when 
 one day, to the disagreeable surprise of all, a monstrous and gigantic
 
 CRAU AND CAMARGUE. 277 
 
 dragon, in comparison with -which the famous serpent of Reguhis 
 was but a mere adder, stalked forth over the land. 
 
 The knights, faithful to their traditionary glory, destructive as 
 that fidelity might prove to them, oflured themselves in numbers to 
 combat with the monster, and went forth one after the other to drive 
 liim from out of his cavern in the valley of Khodes ; but of all those 
 who sallied forth, not one returned, consequently each day witnessed, 
 as a matter of course, the loss of some one of the most valiant member» 
 of the order. The grand master, Hclion de Villeneuve, rendered 
 desperate by the result of these attempts, prohibited, under pain of 
 degradation, any knight of his order from combatting with the mon- 
 ster, assigning as a reason that so fearful a scourge could only have 
 been raised up by God, and that it must consequentlj- be met, not by 
 temporal, but by spiritual weapons ; whereupon the knights relaxed 
 their exertions, much to the disappointment, no doubt, of the monster, 
 who having accustomed himself to the delicate flavour of human flesh, 
 was now compelled to fall back upon ordinary beef and mutton. 
 
 U'hile affairs were in this position Dieudonné de Gozon arrived at 
 Ixhodes. This knight of Camargue, who united in his own person great 
 bravery with equally great prudence, but wlio had hitherto signalized 
 himself only in the west, landed here with the view of impressin"- his 
 fellow-knights -with a due notion of his prowess. But, as we have said, 
 his bravery was only equalled by his prudence ; he therefore deter- 
 mined upon not rashly risking his life, like his predecessors in tills 
 adventure, without first obtaining some knowledge of the enemy Jie 
 had to deal with. 
 
 Consequently, Dieudonné de Gozon made the most minute inquiries 
 possible about the monster, which he ascertained inhabited a marshy 
 fen some two leagues from the town. He further learnt that at eleven 
 in the morning — that is to say, the hottest period in the day — it was 
 his habit to come forth from liis cavern and bask in the sunbeams, 
 where he would remain for about four hours on the watch for his 
 victim, and then return to his cell till the next day. 
 
 This, however, was not sufficient ; Gozon desired to see the ser- 
 pent with his own eyes. Consequently he sallied forth one morning, 
 furnished, not with arms offensive or defensive, but simply with a 
 j)encil and a sheet of paper. Arrived within some thousand paces of 
 the cavern, he looked out anxiously, as nuxy be supposed, for a place 
 of safety, from whence he might make his observations without being- 
 noticed ; when having esconced himself to his satisfaction, he im- 
 patiently awaited, pencil in hand, the coming out of the serpent. 
 The exact habits of the monster brought him out at his usual hour, 
 when his first act was to pounce upon an unfortunate bull that had
 
 238 THE SOUTH OF FRAN'CE. 
 
 strayed within his domains, and which he fo^th^Yith bolted whole ; 
 thus satisticd with his morning's performance, he stretched himself 
 out in the sun within five hundi-ed paces of the concealed Gozon 
 Gozon was thus fully enabled to complete his portrait ; the serpent, 
 as he lay extended, was so perfect a specimen of a model, that he 
 was immediately sketched off, witli the most scrupulous regard to 
 detail. The picture completed, the knight retired with the greatest 
 possible precaution, and retraced his way to llhodes. 
 
 His comrades inquired if he had seen the serpent, and, on being 
 shown the portrait, those who had simply reconnoitered the monster 
 at a distance, declared it to be a most faitliful likeness. On the 
 morrow, Gozon again sallied forth from llhodes, and betook himself 
 to his old hiding-place. In the evening he returned at the same 
 houi" as previously, and on being interrogated as to his day's achiev- 
 ments, replied that he had made some corrections in his drawing ; an 
 announcement which gave rise tomuchmuth. The following day he 
 again went out, agidn took the same precautions, and returned again 
 with the same replj- to the inquiries of the knights, who, believing 
 him to be a madman, troubled themselves no fui'tlier about him. 
 This process continued for three weeks, at the end of which period, 
 the young knight had Icai'nt liis serpent off by heart. He then 
 asked for sLx months' leave of absence of the Grand Master, and 
 having obtained it, retuined to his Chateau de Gozon, situated on 
 the lower Khone, in Camargue. 
 
 On his retm-u, he was made much of by every one, poiticularlyby 
 two magniiicent dogs which he possessed : tliese animals were of the 
 largest description, and had been trained to keep bulls at bay dm'ing 
 the process of marking them with a red hot iron. Gozon, in return, 
 caressed them, as he had his own ulterior ends in view. Fearmg 
 that tlieii' training during his absence might have somewhat degene- 
 rated, he immediately exercised them upon three bulls. 
 
 Satisfied that he could depend upon them as two capital auxili- 
 aries, Gozon immediately set to worlc to carry out liis plans. Thanks 
 to the drawing whieli ho had taken on the spot so closely after 
 nature, (jozoii was enabled to construct a perfect serpent, both in 
 «hajjc, colour, and appearaiui-, to which he communicated perfect 
 action, through tlie medium of internal mechanism. His automaton 
 completed, he next turned his attention to the (raining of his horse 
 and dog». On first beholding the monster, artificial though it was, 
 the horse became unmanageable, while the dogs fied ; the next day 
 their fear diminisiicd, though nothing could induce tiiem to approach 
 tlic animul. 'i'he day after, tlio horse advanced within fifty steps of 
 the monster, and tiie dogs showed their teeth. I'light days hftcr-
 
 CEAU AND CAMARGUE. 239 
 
 wards, the horse trampled the serpent beneath his feet, and the two 
 dogs flew at him, as at a bull. 
 
 Nevertheless, Gozon continued to exercise them thus for two more 
 months, accustoming his dogs to seize their prey by the belly, which 
 lie had observed was free from scales. To do this, he was in the habit of 
 putting fiTsh meat in the stomach of his automaton : the dogs, know- 
 ing where their breakfast awaited them, dived in search of it into the 
 very entrails of the animal. At the end of two months, their training 
 was complete ; moreover, the monster was fast falling into pieces, 
 notwithstanding the daily repairs to Avhich it was subjected. 
 
 The knight now set out for Rhodes, where he safely arrived, after 
 a month's voyage ; something less than six months having elapsed 
 since his depai'ture. 
 
 His first inquiry on landing was after the monster, whom he was 
 informed was in a most flourishing condition ; only that cattle and 
 game having become somewhat scarce, he had now extended his ex- 
 cursions to the very walls of the town. The Grand Master, Helion de 
 Villeneuve, had .ordained the observance of forty hours of prayers. 
 Forty hours of prayers, however, had proved of no more efiicacy than 
 even a simple Ave 3Iaria ; so that the unfortunate inhabitants of the 
 Isle of Rhodes were lost in the utmost despondency. 
 
 The knight, mounting his horse, and followed by his dogs, re- 
 paired to the church, where he performed his devotions, continuing in 
 prayer from seven in the morning till mid-day, during the whole of 
 which period he left his dogs without food, while at the same time he 
 supplied his horse with an ample feed of corn. Mid-day arrived ; he 
 set out from the town, to surprise the monster during his enjoyment 
 of his habitual siesta, followed by the half-faraishcd hounds. 
 
 But as the monster, as has already been observed, had been lat- 
 terly in the habit of extending his excui'sions to the town, the knight 
 had scarcely proceeded a mile from the gates, when he beheld the 
 object of his search. The latter no sooner caught a view of the knight 
 than, raising his head with a snort, he extended his wings, and ad- 
 vanced rapidly towai-ds him. His expected prey, however, pi'oved 
 somewhat hard of digestion ; for no sooner had he come in view of 
 the dogs, than believing him to be their old friend the automaton, 
 and remembering that theii* breakfast was in liis stomach, they im- 
 mediately threw themselves upon him, and attacked him savagely, 
 well backed up by the horse's hoofs and the knight's exertions. In 
 vain did the unfortunate serpent endeavour to seek for safetv'in flight; 
 the fates were against him. One blow from the knight's lance threw 
 him on his flank. This was followed by a kick from the horse, which 
 disabled his wing, and by a fierce assault from the dogs upon his
 
 oîO THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 entrails. Loud were tlic shouts of exultation which now rent the 
 air from the inhabitants, who had ascended the battlements of tlic 
 Town, to witness the combat. Encouraged by these plaudits, the 
 knight leaped from his horse, cut ofif the serpent's liead, and carrying 
 it before him as a trophy, rode into the town amidst universal accla- 
 macion, when he was led, followed by his two dogs and tlie entire 
 population, to the palace of the knights. 
 
 Arrived at head-quarters, he found the Grand Master, Heliou do 
 Villeneuve, awaiting him. Instead, however, of being complimented 
 by tiiat officer upou his valour, lie was reminded of the decree which 
 had been issued, prohibiting any Knight of the Order of St. John 
 from coping with the monster; and in virtue of that decree, against 
 Avhich ho had so fortunately run counter, was committed to prison, 
 upon the principle that want of proper discipline in a knight was a 
 more grievous calamity than the wholesale consmnption of half the 
 inhabitants and every herd of cattle in the island. A council was 
 thereupon summoned, and Gozon was degraded from the rank of 
 knight. But, as may be easily imagined, no sooner had this senlency 
 been recorded, and the ends of justice consequently satislied, than 
 Gozon was reinstated in his former titles; fresh honours were heaped 
 upon him; and on the death of llelion de Villeneuve, which occurred 
 some few months afterwards, lie was raised to the dignity of grand- 
 master. On this occasion Gozon assumed a dragon on his arms; a 
 device which continued in his family till the commencement of the 
 seventeenth century, when his descendants became extinct. 
 
 As for the horse and the two dogs, the}* were maintained for the 
 rest of tlicir lives at the public expense, and embalmed after their 
 dcatli. 
 
 So mu( h for Camargue. We will now pass on to Crau. 
 
 ('ran is the plain in which the contest took place between Iln- 
 rules and the ])(,'()i)le whom he desired to civilize; a contest in wiiiih 
 tlie van([uisher of the Hydra had been all but overpowered, wiien 
 Juj)iter, coming to his assistance, caused a shower of stones to 
 descend upon his adversaries, which bave left their traces behind them 
 even to the present day — a period of four thousand years since the 
 combat — and have consequently given to the plain the name of Crau, 
 derived from the Celtic word craii/, signifying a ilint; or, according 
 to oilier authorities — the learned generally differ — from the verb 
 kradro, to cr}-. He this as it may, it so ba])pens tliat the eartli licre 
 is everywhere covered with flinls, othcrwis(! rarely to be nut witli 
 in Camargue; amidst winch grows a delicate and plcasant-llavourcd 
 herb. 
 
 Tho meadow-land — wliich, to the practised eye of a iJcaucc or
 
 CKAU AND CAMARGUE. 241 
 
 Champagne farmer, would be -worth fifty francs an acre — is tlic more 
 valuable from its rcquiriuij but little outlay on its cultivation ; the 
 green turf of Crau bein^- seldom visited by hail or snow-storms. 
 Here, as in a terrestrial paradise, vegetable nature flourishes 
 unaided. 
 
 This is truly an extraordinary plain, with its desert-Iiko mirages, 
 and hurricanes, which hold here an undisputed sovereignty. At 
 their first advance herds, dogs, and shepherds hasten to shelter 
 themselves from their impending fury, which, when at its height, 
 .scours, whirlwind-like, the length and breadth of the plain, carrying 
 before it the very stones, as chaff before wind, and even sweeping 
 onward clouds of earth ; scattering abroad entire herds of sheep; 
 '.vhile the very shepherds are either wounded or slain by its violence. 
 So fearful indeed is the destruction thus produced, that when this 
 storm of the elements subsides, the very ruins of its rage can scarcely 
 Vc descried. 
 
 The ancients assigned a place among theii' deities to this angry 
 spirit of the elements ; and Seneca, who gives us an account of some 
 •of its most boisterous achievements, tells us that Augustus raised a 
 temple to its honour. 
 
 During our journey, however, through Crau, we were fortunate 
 enough to escape without any practical illustration of what we have 
 attempted to describe. 
 
 About two, r.M., our coach pulled up and we got down ; and, on 
 inquiring where we were, were informed that we had arrived at the 
 town of Eouc. 
 
 We looked about us, and observed three houses, two of which 
 were closed and the other open. We approached the latter, and 
 found it to belong to an innkeeper, who was amusing himself at a 
 game of billiards by playing against himself, 
 
 We inquired of the worthy fellow if it were possible to get a 
 dinner. His reply was, that nothing could be more easy, provided 
 we could hold on for an hour. Wishing to know how we could pass 
 away the time in the meanwhile, he advised us to take a stroll 
 through the town. 
 
 " Wliat town ? " I asked. 
 " The town of Bouc," replied he. 
 
 Being under the impression that I must have passed through it 
 without noticing it, I turned back to the doorway, and gazed about 
 me. There stood, beyond a doubt, the two closed houses which I had 
 observed ; but as for a town, there was not even so much as a 
 liillock behind which it might be concealed. I returned, and found 
 Jadin perusing a paper which was stuck up against the wall. 
 
 Q
 
 243 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Couc must bo some subterranean town like Horculaucum," I 
 obsen-cd; "or, like Pompeii, it must be bui-ied in ashes, for I have 
 not been able to see so much as a vestige of it." 
 
 " All right," exclaimed Jadin ; " I have discovered it." 
 
 " Where is it ?" 
 
 " There," he replied ; pointing out to me the printed notice on the 
 wall, which I approached and read — 
 
 " Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of the French, King of 
 Italy, (R;c., &c., have ordered, and do order as follows : 
 
 " That a town be raised, and a port bo constructed between thi> 
 town of Aries and the village of Martigues ; the said town and port 
 to be called the town and port of Bouc. 
 
 " Tliat om- ^Minister of Public ^^'orks do forthwith charge liimself 
 with the execution of the said order. 
 
 " Given at our chateau of the Tuilleries, the 21t]i Julv, ISIl. 
 
 " Signed, NAPOLEON." 
 
 Beneath the above appeared the plan. 
 
 " There it is," exclaimed Jadin ; and truly, during those few 
 leisure moments which peace afforded him. Napoleon had cast his 
 eye from the map of Europe to that of France, and fixing his atten- 
 tion upon that bank of tl\e Mediterranean which lies between C'rau 
 and Camargue, six leagues from Aries, and ten from ^larscilles, ex- 
 claimed, " That place requires a town and port." 
 
 To him a thought was but a will. The next day the above instru- 
 ment was drawn uj), and his name attached. 
 
 The plan was immediately laid out, and engineers despatched. 
 But the campaign of llussia arrived, and with it tlie disasters of 
 Moscow. As men were scarce, tlie engineers were recalled, luiving 
 only had time to construct a canal, and to lay out the ground-plan 
 of the town ; subsequently a precocious speculator erected three 
 houses, of wliich, as we have seen, two were empty, and the tliird 
 occupied by our host. 
 
 Such was the town wliicli he liad invited us to inspect. 
 
 A sudden feeling of terribli- anxiety seized me, lest our prospect 
 of dinner shouUl prove as imaginary as the town. At one l)ouiid I 
 descended from tlie parlour to tlu- kitchen. Tlie si)it was on the turn, 
 and s.'iaeepaiis were on the tiro. I tremblingly approached to assure 
 myself that what I saw was neitlier the ghost of a leg of mutton, nor 
 the mere shadow of a partridge. I was much relieved to lind that 
 they were substantial. 
 
 "Ah ! all ! m it you?" observed mine host, while turning the spit, 
 " Have but a little patience. Just take ii turn through our principal 
 street, and I will rejoin you opposite the theatre."
 
 CUAU AND CAMARGUE, -!3 
 
 I considered the man insane ; but as my contempt for an idiot is 
 only equalled by my respect for a maniac, I prudently took Jadin's 
 arm, and went out in search of the principal street. We had not 
 much difficulty in finding it. Stuck up Avithin some few paces of 
 the house, was a notice board with the inscription, Ilir/h Street on 
 it, and sure enough there we were. 
 
 "Wc i)roceeded onwards. At the end of some hundred paces we 
 met with another post and another inscription : 21œ Theatre of Her 
 3LiJetit;i, the Uinprcss Ilarie Louise. We pulled up ; this, beyond 
 a doubt, was the spot indicated by om" host. 
 
 We were right. Within five minutes wc saw him making his 
 way towards us. 
 
 The politeness of the worthy man was unprecedented ; never have 
 I met with a moi'c erudite cicerone. For two entire houi-s he walked 
 us up and down the foiu* quai-ters of the town, pointing everything 
 out to us, showing us the shops and the pleasure-grounds, not omit- 
 ting the most trivial details. Luckily I had provided myself with 
 my gun, and in the com-sc of our peregrinations was consequently 
 enabled to shoot a couple of quails in the Exchange, and a hare in 
 the Custom House. 
 
 Bouc would be a delightful town, but for a reason somewhat the 
 reverse of the one given in the case of lloland's horse. Roland's 
 horse had but one defect, which was that he was dead ; the defect 
 in the town of Bouc is, that it never existed. Otherwise it would 
 be a most unexceptionable place ; as it is, it must be allowed, that a 
 better dinner may be had here than in many other towns which, 
 to the disgust of travellers have the misfortune to exist.
 
 CHAPTER XX\Tr. 
 
 THE MAUTICAO. 
 
 On Iieaiing my first shot, my 
 cicerone informed me tliat 
 th.cre ^vas a police regulation 
 wiiich forbad any tiring of 
 guns in the interior of a 
 town ; but as I fired again 
 about five miiîutcs after- 
 wards, in spite of this an- 
 nouncement, he did not tliink 
 fit to make any further ob- 
 
 ^^HJ \l\^W ^ WÎT^ ''V ' A''' J '■''-' •^^"'is- However, ho had 
 ^B ■ '^— A^H":'"! / AS ' "li^J-} ' found out that I was a pretty 
 
 good shot, and had made up 
 his mind to derive some aU- 
 v;uU;ige from tlic jjroof of 
 slcill whicli I liad been in\r 
 prudent enough to give liim. 
 Accordingly, when wo 
 asked for our bill, alter de- 
 vouring all the dinner, with the exception of one disli, which wo could 
 nuike nothing of, and wliicli Mylord, to wiiom it was turned over, 
 also rejected, after a few ineffectual attempts, the host said to us: — 
 "You gentlemen are sportsmen, 1 believe ?" 
 •' Yes; as we liavc already sliown you," I answend. 
 " If you would do me the honour to sleep here to-night, 1 could 
 ofl'er you such shooting to-morrow as you have never seen." 
 " 1 he deuce you could ! ' said I. 
 '• You are j(»Icingl " said Jadin. 
 "No, gentlemen ; it is just as 1 told you.' 
 " Wliat sort of sliooting is it ?" said I. 
 " Sliooting viiirrcitaes, gentlemen, in the ponds of Herre." 
 "And the macreuse itself, wluit sort of a thing is it :'" I asked. 
 *• It is the bird which I served up to you in a mliiii to-day."
 
 TIIK MARTIGAO. 245 
 
 " And ^vhich even Mjlord would not toucli," I added. " A nice 
 sort of animal your macreuse sccnis to be ! " 
 
 " You know, gentlemen, that -we do n't go out sliooting so much 
 for the value of the game, as for the pleasure of bringing it down." 
 
 " You are right," I replied ; " but what then ;'"' 
 
 ""Well, gentlemen, there will be great sport to-morrow at Les 
 Martigues. If you leave here at six in the morning, you Avill just 
 be in time to take a boat. I can give you a letter to my cousin, wlio 
 is connected with the town of Berre." 
 
 "Just such another as you, I have no doubt," said Jadin. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir ! " said the innkeeper, not cutehing the 
 remark. 
 
 " Nothing," I remarked. " "\^'hat were you about to say ? " 
 
 " ^Vhy, sir, I was only going to say that when you come through 
 the town of JJouc, you will be able to give a fine account of your sport." 
 
 " He is fond of his town," said Jadin. 
 
 " But what," said I, "are we to do between now and this evening ?" 
 
 " Is not this gentleman an artist ?" said the innkeeper, with a 
 polite bow to Jadin. 
 
 " I am ; and at your service, my good man," was the reply. 
 
 " AVell, sir, can you not take a view of the harbour during the 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " I'lxactly so," said I to Jadin ; " there is your work cut out for 
 you. I shall jot down my notes, and as we must be up to-morrow 
 r.t five, wc must go to bed early." 
 
 " As you please," said Jadin to me ; " only I warn you tliat this 
 fi'llow is a regular cut-thi-oat." 
 
 "Well then, we'll stop here," said I to tlic innkeeper. " Go arid 
 write us the letter and prepare our beds." 
 
 In s])ite of Jadin's presentiment, the night passed away without 
 any accident. At five the next morning our host awoke us. 
 
 " Well, where is the letter ?" I said. 
 
 " Why, gentlemen, I reflected that this was not the coach-day, 
 and consequently that there would probably be no one starting from 
 the town of Bouc, So I have put the horse in the carriage, taken 
 my gun down, and if you, gentlemen, do not think me imworthy of 
 your society, and will permit me to drive you, I can ofi'er you a coupio 
 of places. You will then arrive at Les Martigues in a fresher and 
 more active condition than if you had walked there." 
 
 "My good man," said Jadin, approaching the innkeeper, "I 
 owe you reparation for having misjudged you. Give me a pinch of 
 snuff." 
 
 " .\nd produce a bottle of your Cahors wine," added I.
 
 21C THE SOUTH OF FRAXCK. 
 
 The host presented Jadin willi a pinch, and withdrew for the 
 wine which had been ordered. 
 
 " WvW ! what do you think of om* host ?" I inquii-ed of Jadin. 
 
 " Truly my heart expands towai'ds him, and his town." 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards, we were rolling along on our route to 
 Martigucs, where we arrived at day-break. 
 
 I never saw a more original looking spot than this little town ; 
 situated between the lake of BeiTO and the canal of Boue, and 
 erected, not upon the shore of the sea, but upon the sea itself. "Mav- 
 tigues is to Venice, what a clnmuing peasant gii'l is to a fine lady ; 
 it only requiiTS, however, the caprice of a king to convert the village 
 beauty into a queen. 
 
 Martigucs, it is said, was built by iMarius. The Koman general, 
 in honour of the prophetess !Miu-tha, who attended liim, as every 
 one knows, gave it the name which it still retains. The etjTnology, 
 perhaps, is not very exact ; but etymology, as is well known, is, of 
 all hothouses, the one which forces the most extraordinary flowers. 
 
 The most striking featm-c about Martigucs, is its joyous appearance, 
 its streets intersected with canals, and strewn witli cyanthas and the 
 pungent sea-weed ; its crossways, where boats ply, like coaches in 
 ordinaiy streets. Then, at every step, dwai'fs of sliips rise into view, 
 witli their tarred bottoms and dried nets. It is a vast boat, in 
 which every one is engaged in fisliing ; men with nets, women 
 with lines, children witli their hands ; tliej- fish in the streets, thej- 
 lish under the bridges, they fish from tlic windows ; and the fish, always 
 plentiful and always stupid, thus allow themselves to be captuied in 
 tlic same spot, and by the same means, for the last two thousand 
 years. 
 
 And yet, what is verj- Immiliating for the iisli, is, that the sim- 
 plicity of the inluibitants of Marligues is such, tliat in (lie Provencal 
 ])atois, tlicir name, Lr Murtii/tio, has passed into a pro\crb. L(' Mar- 
 fi(/ao arc the Cliamjicnois of rrovence ; and as, unfortunately, tlicy 
 have not liad born inilo (hem the smallest resemblance of a l-a Fon- 
 taine, they have preserved their primitive ri'i)ntation in all its 
 ])urity. 
 
 Tliat fellow was a ^lai-tigao, wlio, washing to cut off a branch of 
 a tree, took liis bill-hook, ascended the tree, seated himself on the 
 brandi, and cut away between himself and the (i-unk. 
 
 That was a Martigao, wlio, entering a liousc in Marseilles, saw 
 for the first time a ])arrot, n])i)roa<Iud it, and addressed it familiarly, 
 as is the custom towards the feathered tribe. 
 
 " Sacr»"' cochon ! " rei)lied the parrot, in tlic gruff voice of a drunken 
 musquetcer.
 
 THE MAUÏIGAO. 217 
 
 " A thousand pardons, sir," said the ^lartigao, taking off liis hat ; 
 *' I took you for a bii-d." 
 
 These were tlirec Martigao deputies, who, sent to Aix to present 
 a petition to Parliament, made out immediately on their arrival 
 the residence of the chief president, and gained admission into the 
 liotcl. Conducted by the usher, they traversed some passages, whoso 
 splendour astonished them ; the usher introduced them into the cab- 
 inet leading to the audience-chamber, and, pointing to the door, bade 
 them enter, and retires. The door, however, which the usher had in- 
 dicated was hermetically sealed by a hca'sy piece of tapestry, accor- 
 ding to the custom of the time ; so that the poor deputies, obsen'ing 
 neither key, nor handles, nor egress, through the large folds of the 
 cm-tain, pidlcd up, much embarasscd, and ignorant what to do. 
 Thereupon they held a coimcil, when the most intelligent of the 
 three, after a minute's silence, observed : " Lot us wait till somebody 
 goes in or out, when we will do as he docs." The advice appeared 
 good, was adopted, and the deputies waited. 
 
 The first who appeared was the president's dog, who, without 
 further ceremony, dived under the cui-tain. The thi-ce deputies went 
 do-mi on all-fours, passed through like the dog, and as their petition 
 was granted, their fellow-citizens never doubted for a single moment 
 that to the suitable way in wliich it was presented, rather than to 
 the justice of their claims, they were indebted for their prompt and 
 complete success. 
 
 There ai'e many other stories told, not less interesting than the 
 preceding ; for instance, that of the Martigao who, after having for 
 a long time studied the mechanism of a pair of snuffers, to assure 
 himself at last of the utility of that small utensil, snuffed the candle 
 with his fingers, and duly deposited the snuff in the receiver. But 
 I am afraid that some of these charming anecdotes must lose much 
 of their value in their transition. Here, however, they possess a 
 racy flavour of the soil, while from the time of its foundation, wliich 
 we have traced to Manus, Martigues has supplied anecdotes and 
 cock-and-bull stories for cvciy town ; with a liberality, according to 
 our host, which is beginning by degi'ces to grow wearisome. 
 
 Martigues has, nevertheless, furnished a saint to the calendar, in 
 the shape of the blessed Gerard Tenque, by trade a grocer in the 
 town of Marius. Having occasion to visit Jerusalem, for some pur- 
 pose connected with liis business, he was so incensed at witnessing the 
 ill-treatment experienced by the pilgi-ims in the Holy Land, that he 
 determined henceforth to devote himself to the relief of these pious 
 travellers. Parting with his shop, which may be supposed to have 
 occn doing a thriving business, from the fact of the long journey he
 
 S4S THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 had taken in connection with it, and collectings all the loose cash thu? 
 realized, he set out, staii" in hand, to get up a subscription for these 
 poor people among the merchants of Alexandria, Caii-o, Jafla, Bey- 
 rout, and Damascus, with whom he had had dealings. These holy 
 exertions of Gerard were blessed by heaven with a success so fai* 
 exceeding his expectations, that he was enabled to erect an hospital, 
 and an asylum for the reception of all Christians whose respect for the 
 Holy Land led them to Judca. The first crusade taking place dur- 
 ing the establishment of this institution, the conquests of Godfrey de 
 Bouillon obtained for it so much importance, that it received many 
 privileges and statutes from Home, which became vested in thc^ 
 Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. Thus was that splendid order, 
 which, in its cxclusiveness, admitted only knights of the highest 
 blood, and of the most renowned valour, to its privileges, founded by 
 a poor grocer, 
 
 "When the relics came to be divided among the Christians after 
 the capture of Jerusalem, Gerard Tenque received for liis share the 
 chemise worn by the Holy Virgin on the day when she was saluted os 
 the mother of Christ by the angel Gabriel. This relic was the more 
 valuable from the uiKjuestionable mark of authenticity which it bore, 
 in the shape of tlie initials, M. T. and L., which were deciphered in 
 the corner of it, and whicli evidently signified, Mtiri/ of the 'Tril/e of 
 Levi : 
 
 Gerard Tenque alter his dcatli was canoTii/.ed. On the recapture of 
 the Island of Rhodes by the Infidels, the Kniglits, determining not to 
 leave the sainted bones of their founder in their hands, exhumed his 
 coffin, and transferred it to the Chateau of Manosque, attached to the 
 lordship of the Maltese order. Here the governor, possessed toa certain 
 extent of the incredulous spirit of St. Tliomas, and knowing that the 
 chemise of tlie Virgin had been interred witli the deceased, had the 
 coffin opened, in order to satisfy him of the authenticity of the relics 
 deposited with him. The body was in a perfect state of preservation, 
 and tlie clieinise was safe. Now, the governor, concluding, with 
 much ncuteness, tliat since the blessed Gerard had been already 
 canonized, he could have no occasion for so important a relic as that, 
 whidi he Imd hitherto monopolized, and whicli, no doubt, had jiroved 
 very efficacious in contributing to his salvation, conceived that tluit 
 efficacy might be made to extend to otiicrs — or, in other words, as 
 well-regulat<d charity commences at home, the worthy governor 
 appro])riatcd the chemise, wliicli he had (Icjjosiled in a very handsome 
 Hlirinc, and removed to his Cliateau de Calisanne, in i'rovence, where 
 it is said to have worked miracles. On liis death-bed, the governor, 
 who naturally left no issue behind liiin, unwilling (o expose .so sainted
 
 THE MARTIGAO. CS;) 
 
 a rolic to the sacrilegious hands of collaterals, bequeathed it to the prin- 
 cipal church in the nearest fortified city to his chateau, as so precious 
 a jewel could not be entrusted to a defenceless town. 
 
 As may easily be imagined, when the teneur of this will became 
 known, much excitement arose in all the nciglibouring towns ; 
 each sending its geometer to measure its distance from the Chateau 
 dc Calisanne. The town of Ikrry was decided upon as possessing 
 the most incontestible claims to the holy relic, and consequently the 
 miraculous chemise was adjudged to it by the Archbishop of Aries, 
 much to the grief of the good people of Martigues, who only lost by 
 half a fathom. From that time — that is to say, from about the mid- 
 dle of the fifteenth century — this sacred chemise was exposed every 
 year, on the festival day of St. Mary. At the period, however, of 
 the Revolution it disappeared, no one knew whither. 
 
 Our host had completed this edifying legend as we gained the bank 
 of the Lake de Berry, when we met, not a mere assemblage of hunters 
 and a few boats, but positively an army and a fleet. 
 
 As our host was acquainted with a party of these hunters, he liad 
 no occasion to go in quest of his cousin, whom he would have found 
 it rather difficult to make out in the midst of so great a crowd. He 
 was universallj' welcomed, every one off'cring the use of his boat. As 
 wc were his friends, the invitations of course extended to us ; we, 
 therefore, following him, embarked in the same boat. As I have said, a 
 perfect fleet was assembled here. I counted eighty sail ; as for thcii- 
 accompaniments, I could only form a rough guess at their number. 
 Our boat, which was the least laden, carried six men. In the midst 
 of the assembly, and distinguished by its flag, lay the admiral's bark, 
 which kept up a communication by means of signals with the two 
 vessels forming our extreme ends ; a line of huntsmen extended along 
 the whole shore, while boys, carrying pistols in their hands, waded 
 up to tlicir middle in water. 
 
 It had been previously decided, in order to avoid those misunder- 
 standings which always conclude pleasure parties of this nature, that 
 the game should bo proportioned out to each boat. The admiral, 
 who was an old sailor, had transmitted a copy of this decision to each of 
 the mayors assisting in the hunt; and each mayor had read it 
 aloud to those under his charge. Every one promised to conform 
 to it, and then took up his position with the intention of doing 
 exactly the contrary. 
 
 At one glance, I understood perfectly the plan of the battle. The 
 tactics consisted simply in scouring the whole breadth of the lake, 
 and in driving before us the sea-gulls ; whicli, not daring to enter 
 tlic boats, swam as long as they could swim, but finally found them-
 
 250 THE SOUTH OF FR.\NCE. 
 
 selves (h-ivcn to the shore ; and, as the boats continued to advance 
 the poor animals Avcre compelled to take wing and pass over the 
 heads of the hunters. At this moment they received a fire ; after 
 which, they fled fi-ightened to the other extremity of the lake. Then 
 the same manoeuvre recommenced, till it produced a similar result; 
 and tliis continued so long as day gleamed in the sky, as strength 
 continued in the rowers, or sea-gulls on the lake. 
 
 Moreover, if the poor birds, too harassed, rose up and disappeared 
 — a thing wliich never happened till after the fifth or sixth flight 
 from the one end of the lake to the other — this circumstance had 
 nothing in it alarming; they were certain to be found again, the 
 next daj-, on the lake De Fos or ])c Marignane. As a sea-bird, the 
 gull inherits much of the dulness of the fish. 
 
 Scarcely had each party taken up its position, when the admiral, 
 through a speaking trimipct, gave the signal for departure. At the 
 same instant every boat was put into motion, and all advanced in 
 perfect order. 
 
 However, as, notwithstanding our number, we were unable to 
 span the breadth of the lake, considering it was three leagues, the 
 admiral suddenly sounded a halt. A troop of sea-gulls spread them- 
 selves over the circle, and threatened to escape us. Twenty boats 
 were detached, which, oy means of a dexterous manœu^Te, gained upon 
 the fugitives, and compelled them to re-enter the line. 
 
 During this evolution we remained inactive, and our host, who, as 
 may have been seen, was liighly infoi-med, took advantage of oiu- 
 inactivity to point out to us, on the tongue of land behind which the 
 sea-gulls threatened flight, three rocks of unequal si/.o, called the 
 Three BroUiers, a name which they got, he told us, from the Ibllow- 
 ing anecdote : — " Three sons of a farmer, of whom the eldest was 
 blind, the second blind of one eye, and the third shar])-sighted enough, 
 inherited from tlit ir father all the harvest which had been gathered 
 in. Tliat brotlier who had his two eyes made tlu-ee shares of the 
 wlieat wliich the deceased had left as heritage; a large share for him- 
 self, a smaller share for tlie one-eyed one, and a very small share for 
 the blind one ; but such a division was too unjust for heaven to sanc- 
 tion, consequently the three ]>arc(ls of wheat were changed into stones, 
 and these are the three rocks yonder, and to which, in commemoration 
 of tliis wonderful event, the name of the Three lirothers has been 
 given." We iiuiuircd of our host wliat was (he moral of the fable, 
 and lie was on the point ofcxplaining it to us, when, unfortunately for 
 the edification of our readers, the Ki)eaking-trumpet of tlie ndniiral 
 making itself heard ordered us to continue on our way. 'J'lie fled 
 came up to the wind ; the manœuvre was magnificent. 'Ibis n minds 
 
 J
 
 THE MARTIGAO. 2JI 
 
 mc that Claude Forbin was a native of Gardanné, and lîailly from 
 Suff'ren de Saint-Cannat ; very likely they both commenced their 
 apprenticeship to the sea by gull-hunting. 
 
 "We now continued the advance, in accordance with the order 
 given, and as we did so the ranks of the unfortunate animals before 
 us grew so thick, that they covered the surface of the lake like an 
 immense carpet. Never, since the celebrated destruction of game at 
 llainey, where, among other things, eleven thousand rabbits were 
 killed, had I seen such a quantity of animals swamiing together in 
 so small a space. Soon the lake afforded them only a too limited 
 sm-face, and half the sea-gulls commenced ininning over the backs of 
 the others ; at last one decided upon taking wing, some others followed, 
 then a greater number, then an entii-c mass, which advanced towards 
 us with a fearful noise, and which, in an instant, passed like a cloud 
 over our heads. The report of two thousand fowling-pieces im- 
 mediately followed, and a shower of sea-gulls literally fell from the 
 skies. 
 
 Never had I seen a similar sight ; it reminds me of the famous 
 flight of pigeons from Bas-de-Cuii*. The lake was strewn with the 
 dead and dying, which every one endeavoured to sccm'e. As it had 
 been arranged that the game should be divided into equal shares, 
 every one, of course, filled liis pockets, pantaloons, and sleeves. Our 
 host looked lilce a bag of nuts. Within four paces of us a boat cap- 
 sized ; the accident was occasioned by a struggle, and the straggle 
 continued in the watei*. I soon discovered that the race was not for 
 the most skilful but for the most active, and that the game belonged, 
 not to those who shot but to those who picked up the most. j-\t 
 the extreme end of the line two boats were struck with shot; 
 some grains of spent shot hit ours ; the rest lodged among those who 
 lay between us and the combatants. Some rubbed their posteriors, 
 others shook theii- fingers, every one swore the sea-gulls were 
 avenged. 
 
 The mayors displayed the ti-i-colourcd cockade ; the gendarmes, 
 di-awn up on the two banks of the lake, di-ew their sabres ; the admiral 
 exclaimed, "Do\\ti with your anns!" at the liighest pitch of liis 
 speaking-trumpet ; but so long as the body of a single sea-duck re- 
 mained on the sm-facc of the lake he possessed no means of stopping the 
 disorder. As for myself, I openly rammed down two balls into 
 my gun, and declared that whatever I received I should return 
 with interest. 
 
 At last matters turned out for us much the same as they did for 
 the Cid : the combat ceased, not for want of combatants, but for want 
 of victims. "Without reckoning those which were concealed, each
 
 o'ji THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 boat might have held, one with the other, from twenty to twenty-five 
 ducks. The ranks were then reformed, the word to face about 
 was given, and we advanced with an excitement which the licat of 
 the engagement had only redoubled, towards the fugitives, who has- 
 tened to the other end of the lake : but this time, notwithstanding all 
 the eflbrts of the admiral's galley, everyone rowed forward on his own 
 own account, and in spite of the cries of the laggcrs, tlicmost active weiv 
 the tirst to arrive ; the butchery immediately commenced, and though 
 less orderly than the preceding one, was not less murderous. This 
 lasted ti"om seven in the morning to three, P.M. We were knee-deej) 
 in sea-gulls. My lord had disappeared beneath a layer of birds, as 
 Tai-pcia beneath the bucklers of the Sabines. 
 
 We disembarked, horribly fatigued with our naval expedition. Our 
 boat-companions invited us — they could not have done so more cour- 
 teously — to take our ])art in the common mass, to which we had, 
 moreover, honourably contributed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ANCIENT MAKSKILLES. 
 
 The first tiling I did on my arrival had been to write to Mery ; so 
 the next day, at seven o'clock in the moi'iiing, I was awoke by him. 
 
 My readers know Mery, either by his works or personally. Those 
 who know him only by his writings, love liini for his works ; those 
 who know him personally, love him for his works and himself. 
 
 Meiy is one of those singular creatures whom God has been 
 pleased to make, and in whom he has united all that is good, exalted, 
 and intellectual in other men. Mery has the heart of an angel, the 
 Jiead of a poet, and the mind of a demigod. 
 
 Twenty years ago Mery took up a pen for the first time. I^et any 
 one rise, and suy, " I complain of that pen." 
 
 Thus Mery. with as much talent as any one, and with more wit 
 than anybody I know, has not an enemj- in the world, not even among 
 fools. It's wonderful ! 
 
 With the power of taking such a high stand, he is contented with 
 an insignificant one. A corner of the sunny Provence, his head 
 shaded by a pine tree, his feet by the shores of the sea, and a cloak 
 on his shouldei's, winter as well as summer ; this is all that he requires. 
 
 And then what calmness of soul, what serenity of mind, what 
 benevolence of heart ! He is the ancient philosopher, with the faith 
 of the Cliristian. 
 
 Besides, why should not !Mery believe and hope ? Did anj- one 
 ever believe and hope in him, and be ever deceived ? 
 
 With what joy we saw one another again ! for if I have a regard 
 for him, I believe that he, in his turn, regards me not a little. 
 
 But poor Mery was considerably embarrassed : he was not unaware 
 that I was making a picturesque tour ; and he could only show me 
 ^larseillcs. 
 
 In fact, Marseilles, the Ionian city, the contemporary of Tyro and 
 Sidon, full of perfumes from the festivals of Diana, full of emotion 
 from the narratives of Pythias; — Marseilles, the Roman city, friendly 
 to Pompey, inimical to C'losar, all feverish from the civil wars, and 
 all proud of the place which Lucaiii has given it ; — Marseilles, tliu 
 Gothic parish, with its saints and its bishops, with the shaven heads
 
 254 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 of its monks, aud the chaplcted brows of its consuls ; — Marseilles, the 
 daughter of the Phoccans, the rival of Athens and the sister of Rome 
 (as she has styled herself iii the inscription ■with Avhich she has cn- 
 cii'clcd her head) ; — Marseilles has preserved little or nothing of her 
 diflcrcnt ages. 
 
 She had an ancient relic, -which was almost a sacred thing to her : 
 it was the house, No. 54, in the Kue des Grands-Carmes, Avhich had 
 been inhabited bj- Milo, the assassin of Clodius, and banished to Mar- 
 seilles, notwithstanding Cicero's defence. This house preserved, in 
 commemoration of tliis event, above the door a bust, which the 
 people, in theii- ignorance, called the stone saint : and which is now 
 cast aside into the corner of some granary or other. This is the his- 
 tory of the man whom this bust represented. 
 
 In the year 700 of the building of Home, Clodius sought the pra;- 
 torship. 
 
 Clodius was the same person who, a few years before, had entered 
 Caesar's house, wliile Pompeia,his wife, was celebrating the mysteries 
 of the Bona Dea ; and who, recognised in the woman's clothes in 
 which he was dressed, had been denounced bj' Aurelius. 
 
 It was an accusation wliich actually brought with it the punish- 
 ment of death ; but Clodius was rich, lie had just purchased a house 
 for 4,800,000 sesterces ; and there is no punishment of death for a 
 man who can pay 3,027,833 francs for a house. 
 
 Clodius brought witnesses. A knight, named Cassinius Schola, 
 deposed that he was with him at Intcramnum, at the time when 
 Aurelius pretended that he had seen him in Home. 
 
 Clodius bouglit the judges; but as tlie judges could take the money 
 and condemn him all the same — as was foreseen — he made tliem write 
 down their decisions on waxen tablets of different colours, in ordei 
 that he miglit know those who laid put tlie (ibsolro and those who 
 had put the condcmno. 
 
 Clodius was acquitted ; wliich did not prevent Cicsar froni rejju- 
 diating his wife, saying tliat the wife of Ciesai' ought not even to be 
 suspected. Poor Cicsai- ! 
 
 Clodius then sought the pnetorship. ^\'e have seen how preced- 
 ing {•ircumstanecH ])lcaded in his behulf. 
 
 .\t the same time, AniiiuH Milo sou^'lit (he consulate; and as lie 
 was very rich also on his \mvi, he lind the ehanccs of getting it, which 
 very much annoyed Clodius, who fell very certain that his pra'torship 
 would he nothing if Milo was consul. I have forgotten to say that 
 there was an old grudge between Clodius and Milo. Clodius had got 
 Cicero banished — Milo had got liim recalled from banishment; so 
 Clodius set up for tlic consulate Plautius llypsieus and Metellup
 
 ANCIENT MAUSEILLES. 2j5 
 
 Scipio. On both sides, money had been distributed lavibhly ; but as 
 Milo had respectable people -vvith him, and Clodius the multitude, all 
 the chances, as may be seen, were for Plautius Ilypsitus and Metellus 
 Scipio. 
 
 McanAvhilc, ]\Iilo resolved to go to the city of Lanuvium, where 
 he had to elect a flamen. On the 13th of the calends of February, to- 
 wards two o'clock in the afternoon, he was going' towards the Appian 
 gate — for Lanuvium was situated to the right of the road to Naples, 
 near the hill of Mars — and as, for any one who had a rival, the roads 
 were not safe in the neighbourhood of Jtome, he was accompanied by 
 about a himdrcd slaves, whom he had placed, for greater safety, under 
 the orders of Eudamus and Birria, two famous gladiators. Now, the 
 gladiators in those days were the sbirri of these. As to Milo, he was 
 in his chariot, with his wife Fausta, and his friend, 3Iarcus Fufius. 
 
 They travelled on for about an horn' and a half, without anything 
 ocem-ring, when, on drawing nigh to Albano, they saw another party 
 of about thirty persons, who were drawn up by the side of the road, 
 while a man on horseback, who seemed to be the master, had got 
 down from the Via Appia, and was talkrng, near a small temple of the 
 Bona Dea, with the decurions of the Aricians; three men, who ap- 
 peared of his party, formed a separate group. The man on horse- 
 back was Clodius, who was returning fi-om Ancium, where he had a 
 great number of clients. The thi-ec men forming a sepai'ate group 
 were that same Cassinius Schola, who had borne witness for him in 
 the affair of Pompcia, and Pompenius, his nephew, and Clodius, 
 both plebeians, both new men — something like onr stockbrokers; — 
 the others were slaves. 
 
 The two parties i^assed each other; Milo and Clodius exchanged looks 
 of hatred. Both, however, restrained themselves, and Milo was nearly 
 fifty yards in front, when Birria, who was walking last, all the wliile 
 talking with Eudamus, and playing at quarterstafi' with his javelin, 
 struck, with the wooden part of liis weapon, a slave of Clodius, Avho 
 had not thought it necessary to get out of his way. The slave drew 
 his sword, calling his comrades to his aid. Eudamus and Birria, on 
 their part, called out to arms. Clodius came forAvard insolently to 
 chastise the man wlio had taken the liberty of striking a person who 
 belonged to him. But at the moment when he was drawing his 
 sword, Birria prevented him, by running him through the shoulder 
 Avith his javelin. Clodius fell, and they carried him into a tavern by 
 the roadside. 
 
 On hearing a noise behind him, Milo had stojipcd his chariot, 
 and had turned round to ask what had happened, when he saw Fus- 
 tenu?, the chief of his slaves, coming terrified towards him.
 
 250 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " "What is the matter?" asked Milo. 
 
 " The matter is," replied Fustcims, " that I believe Bii-ria has just 
 killed Clodius." 
 
 " By Jupiter!" said Milo, " this is a thiiii^ about Avhich you must 
 he certain. Go back, and learn -what it is all about, and return and 
 tell me if he is dead." 
 
 Fustenus set oft" running. 
 
 " Master orders him to be finished," said he to Eudamus and 
 Birria. 
 
 As may be seen, Fustenus was a stupid fellow, who only under- 
 stood half what he heard. Eudamus and Birria, on their part, did 
 not require to be told twice ; they hastened with all the people they 
 commanded to the tavern, whither they had carried Clodius. His 
 s-lavcs tried to prevent them entering ; but they wore too inferior 
 in numbers ; eleven were killed ; it is true that that was a kind of way 
 for them to become free ; — the otliers fled. 
 
 Clodius was snatclied from the bed on whicli he lay, and received 
 two other wounds, both mortal, when they dragged him, dying, into 
 the high road, where they despatched him : then Fustenus took otf 
 his ring, which he carried to Milo, saying to him — 
 " This time, master, he is quite dead." 
 
 Satisfied with tliis statement, Milo continued his journey with- 
 out troubling himself about the body. 
 
 The senator Lentius Tedius, on his way from ]{onu\ found the 
 corpse knew it again, had it put into his litter, and returned to the 
 city «n foot. He had it carried to his beautifidiiouse on Mount I'alatine, 
 tlie same which, some time before, as we have already said, Clodius 
 ])urchascd for nearly five million sesterces. In a moment, the news 
 of his assassination was spread abroad, and the people luistcned from 
 nil parts of Rome to Mount Palatine, guided by the cries of Fulvia, 
 liis wife, who, leaning on the bleeding body, tore her hair with one 
 hand, and with the other showed the wounds of her husband to the 
 multitude. 
 
 Tlius the night passed, the crowd incessantly augmenting, and 
 towards morning it l)eeunie so considerable that many persons were 
 suffocated. At this nu)nu'nt two tiil)unes of the i)cople arrived ; they 
 were .Munitius I'hiucus and J'ompDiiius llufus. When they wcro 
 seen, the vociferations iigiiinst tlie murderer were redoubled, for they 
 knew them to be friends of Clodius; and so, instead of calming tlio 
 maddened nmltitude, they gave tlu'm an exani])le, and ordering the 
 iMxly to l)e borne away as it was, they had it i)laeed upon tlie rostrum, 
 in order that it might be better seen by the multitude : tliencc they 
 descended with it into the Curia Hostilia, where the people liaving
 
 AN'CIKNT MAl;.SEllJ,i;,S. 2.';7 
 
 made a funeral pile for it -with the tables and chairs of {lie tribunals, 
 and with tlic books of a bookseller -whose shop was near at hand, 
 they set lire to it. 
 
 Now, as there was a strong wind, the flames sjjread to the curia, 
 and from the curia to the Basilica Portia, both of which -were in 
 flames. Then, to carry out the funeral ceremonies of Clodius in a 
 manner worthy of liim, tlie people went and pillaged the houses of 
 jNIilo, and Lepidus, the interrex. 
 
 It is necessary to state that Ilypsœus and Scipio, the candidates 
 opposed to Milo, took a great share in all these proceedings. 
 
 However odious, though, was the assassination of Clodius, the 
 manner in which he was avenged ap])eared even more odious to the 
 good citizens. jNIilo, seeing that his enemies had had the impudence 
 to make his crime forgotten by their excesses, returned to Home, 
 and announced his presence there by making i)ublic that he would 
 continue to pursue the consulate, and to support his pretension, dis- 
 tributing among the tribes a thousand ases a-head : a thousand ases 
 amounted to from fifty to fifty-five francs ; nearly a million were 
 given away. 
 
 The distribution was considered moderate ; and so Milo, instead 
 of being nominated consul, was ordered to appear, on the sixth of the 
 ides of April, before tlie quaestor Domitius, on the charge of violence 
 and l'action. 
 
 The accuser and the accused had each ten days to prepare — one 
 his accusation, the other his defence. 
 
 The trial lasted three days : it took place, as usual, in the forum. 
 For three days Home was full of such rumours, and the judges were 
 pursued with such threats, that the day Avlien judgment was to be 
 delivered, the great Pompey, whom they had appointed provisional 
 consul, was obliged to take upon himself the command of the armed 
 force ; and after having ordered all the avenues to the forum to be 
 guarded, he went and posted himself personally, A\ith a troop of 
 chosen soldiers, at the temple of Saturn. 
 
 Milo had naturally chosen Cicero for his counsel, and reckoned 
 strongly on his eloquence ; but as he reckoned less on his courage, 
 he had him taken to the Forum in a closed litter, for fear that the 
 sight of so many people and soldiers would disturb his mind, and de- 
 prive it of its powers. But it was much worse when Cicero got out 
 of his cage, and, without any expectation, found himself in the midst, 
 of a vast crowd, shouting out to him that it was ^lilo who had killed 
 Clodius, and that it was he, Cicero, who had advised him to the- 
 murder. lie narrowly escaped with his life ; nor would lie havd 
 done so, had not Pompey, who wished to give all po!-sible latitude tu
 
 1G8 THE SOUTH OF FRAN'CE. 
 
 the defence, ordered the soldiers to drive away from the Forum, with 
 the riat parts of their swords, all those ^Yho had insulted the orator. 
 
 But the misehief was done : once distm-bed in mind, Cicero did 
 not easily recover. Besides, his great power was irony : he had saved 
 a much j^reater number of accused folks by the ridicule which he had 
 heaped upon their advcrsaiies, than by the interest which he had 
 taken in his clients. Now, to get at the precise words which cut a 
 man through and through, one must have the mind easy, and such 
 was not — far from it — the state in which Cicero found himself; con- 
 sequently, his speech was embarrassed, cold, and languid. Every- 
 body looked forwai-d to the peroration : the peroration was even weaker 
 than the speech. The result was. that Milo was condemned by a 
 majority of thirty-eight against thirteen. 
 
 It is true that the friends of Clodius had been more generous than 
 Milo ; for they had distributed, during the fom- days that the trial 
 lasted, nearly three millions. 
 
 Tlie votes being collected, the quirstor Domitius rose \vith a sad 
 and solemn air, and took oft" his toga by way of mourning : then in 
 the midst of the profoundest silence : 
 
 " It appears," said he, " that Milo has deserved banishment, and 
 that his goods ought to be sold : it consequently pleases us to inter- 
 dict him iire and water." 
 
 Mad clappings of the hands and shouts of furious joy accompanied 
 this judgment, whilst, on the other hand, the friends of Milo spat on 
 the judges; one among them even walked up to the quaestor, and, 
 alluding to the three millions that had been distributed by the friends 
 of Clodius, said to him, as he pointed to the soldiers: — 
 
 " You have asked lor guards, have you not, that they may not rob 
 you of the money which you have just gained ?" 
 
 As to Milo, he was reconducted home by a numerous escort that 
 I'ompey gave him, humedly made all his prepai-ations for the voyage, 
 and left the same day for Marseilles. 
 
 It is believed that the illustrious exile was well received in the 
 Greek city ; but notliing brings comfort in exile. AVhen, sonu' time 
 after liis airival, Milo received the corrected speech which Cicero 
 .sent him, he could not avoid seeing the difference there was between 
 the written harangue and that which the orator had spoken, re])lying 
 to him with some bitterness in these words: Cicero si sic ct/issvs, bar- 
 hatoH pinces Milo non cderct. 
 
 Which means: Cieero, my friend, if you had npoken as you liave 
 wi-itten, Milo would be consul at Home instead of eating bearded fish 
 at Murscillt'H. 
 
 Milo did not die nt Marseilles : he was killed in Calabria, in the
 
 ANCIENT MAUSKILLKS. 259 
 
 war between Cocsar and Pomi)ey. According to tradition, however, 
 this house in the Rue des Grands-Carmes was his, and tliis bust was 
 his. Some arcliœologists have fancied that they have recognised 
 in this bust the effigy of St. Victor ; but their antagonists have vic- 
 toriously replied in asking them what St. Victor had to do Avith 
 the Itonian wolf, which was seen sculptured underneath the niche, 
 and with those delicate leaves of the acanthus, so elegantly worked, 
 that the cliiscl wliich had sculptured them bore in the very Avork the 
 date of Augustus's age. Finally, the people, who knew more than all 
 antiquarians, past and future, have consecrated this tradition, which 
 could not save the house in the Rue des Grauds-Carnies from that 
 charming yellow stucco work, which is in such great favoiu" with 
 municipal authorities. 
 
 One of the ruins which date from the same period is the Porte 
 Joliette, wliich has not been demolished, because it is used for the 
 octroi. Etymologists contend with all their might that this name of 
 Porte Joliette is derived from Porta Jitlii, as they say that it was 
 tlu-ough this gate that Ctf sar entered the city after Trebonius had 
 brought him to his senses. There were on this gate some bas-reliefs 
 and inscriptions, meant to relate this great event; but they have been 
 erased by that biting sea-breeze, which reduces eveiy kind of stono 
 into powder, and nothing more remains than the corroded ring, from 
 which hung the portcullis which was raised to admit Cfesar. 
 
 Add to these two relics some arches of the ancient palace of 
 Thermes, which now form, in the Place de Lenche, the shop of a 
 cooper, and you vnU. have enumerated all that Marseilles has retained 
 of Roman ruins. 
 
 It is of very little matter, as is seen, that it is called Massilia, when 
 one is so near the Pont du Gard, the Maison Carrée, and the triumphal 
 arch of Orange. 
 
 R 2
 
 CHAriER XXIX. 
 
 GOTHIC MAUSlilLLES. 
 
 IMarseilles is scarcely richer in moriumcnts of tlic middle age tliaii 
 in ancient ruins, ^^'heu you have seen the belfry of Accouls ; the 
 abbey of St. Victor; the ruined tower of St. Paul ; the Hotel de Ville, 
 and the fort of St. Nicholas, you have surveyed all that stands in 
 Marseilles from the fourth to the seventeenth century. 
 
 The belfry of Accouls is all that remains of the church of Notre- 
 ])ame dc las Accoas, destroyed at the Revolution. It is a heavy, 
 massive, Roman arrow; suf^gestive of no remarkable tradition what- 
 soever ; and fails completely for a moment to arrest the notice of the 
 passing traveller. 
 
 Ditlerent, however, is the case of the old abbey of St. Victor, 
 which is at once a monument both curious and venerable. Its site is 
 in a cave, in which C'assius, on liis return from the deserts of Thebes, 
 discovered the body of St. Victor. This cave was situated in the 
 middle of a vast cemetery; and it is to the pictj- of Cassius that the 
 church we see at the present day owes its endowment. 
 
 It was only ornamented with battlements in the thirteenth century, 
 but its original foundation reaches back as far as the year 410. 
 
 it is in the cave of St. Victor that is found the good lilack 
 Virgin, the most venerated of all the Marseilhiise niadoinuis; whose 
 jirincipal ofHce it is, in times of great drought, to fmnish refreshing 
 supplies of rain. Once a year, on C'andlenias-day, she is brought 
 into the church, decked out in her gayest robe, crowned with her 
 silver diadem, and ])resented to the veneration of the faithful. This 
 image is generally attributed to St. Lue— doubtless a saintly origin, 
 but not one that is to be accepted as infallible. 'I'hey, however, who 
 look with the eye of faith, shut to all but the good Rlack Mother (a» 
 KJic is familiarly called ])y the Marseillaise peoj)le), assign her origin 
 to the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century. 
 
 Ah to the tower of St. I'aul, it was also battlemented similarly 
 
 ,he abbey of St. Victor, for it was also of early date. Till 
 
 t a jear ago it was a proiid nmnunient, as it bad been in tlie
 
 GOTHIC MAUSKII.Ll'S. 2C1 
 
 days of the Constable of Eourbon. A patriotic reminiscence should 
 have been its protection. It was on its platform that was levelled 
 the famous culverin which contributed so largely in compellinjj the 
 Spaniards to raise flic siege ; and furnished to the nierry Marqvds of 
 Pescaire the occasion of making one of his happiest bon mots. But 
 municipal councils are equally the enemies of wit and ancient ruins. 
 Tlicy hold them in the same estimation ; and appear to consider 
 anytliing they are unable to comprehend as an insult to their under- 
 standing. The old tower, though it had survived through the space 
 of one thousand years, was tenacious of life. Time, that had worn 
 itself out on its rugged mass, still treated it with the most respectful 
 consideration. Tlie municipal tnunpets, however, were sounded, 
 and the feudal tower fell, to arise again, transformed into a manu- 
 factory of soap. 
 
 It was truly a glorious souvenir to preserve this tower, before 
 which the famous Constable of Bourbon, afterAvards the conqueror of 
 Home, was compelled to retire. His vengeance had been aroused ; he 
 entered France with that famous emblematic standard representing a 
 Avinged stag and flaming swords. He came back to France reconciled 
 with the Genoese, Milanese, Florentines, Venetians, Henry YIII. of 
 England, Pope Adrian VI., and the Fm])eror Charles V.; and, after 
 liaving driven out the French from Lombardy, he assmned, in place 
 of all the other titles of which he had been deprived by Francis I., 
 that of Count of Provence, and marched on Marseilles to reclaim 
 his possessions. 
 
 On the other hand, a crowd of French gentlemen had thrown 
 themselves into Marseilles; but, taken unawares, and not having had 
 time sufficient for organizing an army, they were only able to bring 
 the assistance of their individual corn-age. There Avas the Marshal 
 de Chabannes, who was to die before Pavia, rather than surrender ; 
 there was Philip de Prion, Comte do Cliabot ; there was the great 
 engineer, Mirabel. 
 
 Marseilles, reduced to her own imaided power, resolved at least 
 to leave none of them unemployed ; and, supported by the recollec- 
 tion of having repelled the great Cfcsar, she did not despair of 
 vanquishing the constable. Consequently, s-he enrolled a burgher 
 militia, amounting to about 9,000 men ; levelled her suburbs, withoxit 
 respecting either cluux-hes or convents ; repaired her fort and 
 ramparts ; and, so high was the enthusiasm of her population, that 
 even women were seen assisting in the labours of the workmen. 
 
 AVliilc tilings were in this state, the roar of cannon was heard 
 from the sea. It was lia Fayette, at the head of the French fleet, 
 engaging the Spanish squadi-ou luider the command of Hugo de
 
 26a THE SOUTH Ol' FRAXCE. 
 
 Moncade. The result was the capture of thi'ce galleys bv theii- coun- 
 trymen ; an advantage of so good omen, that the courage of the 
 Marseillaise was not a little elevated. About the beginning of July, 
 1525, news reached the town that Charles of Bom-bon had defeated 
 the ti'oops of Ludovic de Grasse, Seigneur of ^las, and crosse d the 
 Vai*. AV'ithin a few days, a rumour was hcai'd that Honoré de Paget, 
 Seigneui- of Prat, chief magistrate of the town of Aix, had yieldc I 
 the keys of that town to Charles of Bourbon, who had appointed him 
 governor; and finally, on the loth of August, Charles himself was 
 seen ai^proaching at the head of a small troop to reconnoitre Mar- 
 seilles. 
 
 "A plague upon it!" exclaimed Pcscaire, his lieutenant, on 
 glancing over the positions that had been taken up ; " it appears that 
 we shall hardly make so good a bargain of Marseilles as of Aix." 
 
 " Bah !" replied the Bourbon, with a contemptuous shrug ; " at the 
 sound of the first cannon you will see tlic bm-ghers approaching with 
 the keys of the town." 
 
 "We shall see," said Pcscaire. Pcscaire was the St. Thomas of 
 the expedition, with this simple difference, that instead of bicumiug 
 converted, he increased daily in incredulity. 
 
 On the 19(h, the constable drew up his whole anny before Mar- 
 seilles. It was composed of 7,000 German infantry, 6,000 Si)aniards, 
 and 2,000 Italians ; with GOO light horse. The Marquis de Pcscaire 
 oocupied with his men the Ho.spital of St. Lazarus ; the constable, 
 with his Germans, lay at Port Galle ; and the Spaniards held tho 
 road to Aubagne. It was decided to open the trenches on the 23rd; 
 and the constable consequently invited Pcscaire in the morning of 
 that day to hear mass, and breakfast with him in his tent. I'escuirc, 
 who was at once a saint and a glutton, was punctual to the a]i])oint- 
 mcnt. They commenced with the celebration of the mass, perlunned 
 by the chaplain of the constable bel'ore a small temporary nltnr; on 
 each side of which knelt the two chiefs of the ])c'sieging force, in ])iou8 
 attention. On a sudden, the sound of canncm roared in their ears; and 
 tlie priest, wlio was, at the moment, in the act of elevating the Host, 
 fell, weltering in his blood, on the altar, Avithout even time to utter 
 aery. 
 
 " Wlmt is that?" exclaimed the Bourbon. 
 
 "Nothing, sir;" replied Pescaire. "It is only the burghers of 
 MnrseillcH ])riiiging you the keys of their town." 
 
 The priest was raised ; he was dead. The mass was ended, and 
 the two chiefs repaired to breakfast. 
 
 Indeed, tlie Bourbon, if little sensible» to tho misfortunes of otliero, 
 wasccpially iiidill'erent to his own. When he was struck with tho
 
 GOTHIC MAUSKILI.ES. 2G3 
 
 ball that killed him, he lay down in the trench, ordered his Avhite 
 cloak to bo thrown over liim, and, pointing to the breach, told liis 
 soldiers to push on all the same. 
 
 The same day the trenches were opened, and they began to can- 
 nonade the town. On their side, the ^larscillaise artillery performed 
 wonders; more especially the famous culverin, whose position was 
 higher, and whose range was longer tlian those of the other pieces. 
 This was so evident, that the recognition of its superiority gained for 
 it the most skilful gunners, and enabled it to devastate the ranks of the 
 enemy. Some days were passed in making as much confusion as pos- 
 sible above, and as little as possible undcrneatli ; that is to say, while 
 the trenches were opened for the cannon, the Spaniai'ds were quietly 
 pushing on a mine towards the town. 
 
 At length, on the 2ôth of September, the breach was practicable, 
 and the Boui'bon resolved, contrary to the advice of Pescaire, to order 
 the assault. The motive of this resolution was the constable's evident 
 desii-e to iinish the war by a brilliant stroke. It had been agreed 
 upon, among the allies, that while he invaded the south of France, 
 the Spaniards were to march tlu-ough into Guiennc, the English by 
 Picardy, and the German forces by way of Bourgoyne. In con- 
 sequence, however, of the faitlilcssness of Henry YIII. and Charles V., 
 Charles of Bourbon, stimulated by feelings of the deepest animosity, 
 had found himself unsupported at the place of appointment. On the 
 other hand, he had received intelligence that the Marshals de Cha- 
 bannes and Montmorency, having succeeded in uniting their opera- 
 tions with those of Comte de Caixes, were preparing to hasten to the 
 assistance of Marseilles with a numerous anuy, and well appointed 
 artillery ; and in addition to this, pro%'isions had all along been diui- 
 cidt to procure, and they were now threatened with the failm-e of 
 theii- ammunition. 
 
 l)m-ing the whole of the 2ôth, the Bourbon was engaged m 
 malcing his dispositions for the assault ; and ]\lai'scilles, for rcjJC.Uiiig 
 it. On each side, the blow was decisive. 
 
 At sunset, the Spaniards, led on by the Bourbon himself, advanced 
 to the breach, leaving Piscairc, who disapproved of the attempt, to 
 witness the assault at a distance with folded arms. The struggle was 
 teri'ific; three times did the Bourbon conduct his Spaniards to the 
 breach, through a hmi-icane of balls, and flame, and smoke, and 
 stones, but as often to be repulsed. A fom-th time Bourbon woidd 
 have led them back to the assault, but night closed in, and he found 
 it impossible to rally them. 
 
 Dm-ing the course of the night news having reached him of the 
 arrival of the advanced guai-d of the French ai'uiy at Salon, he could
 
 2<VJ THE SOU ni or FRANCE. 
 
 do nothing but retreat. At three o'clock in the morning, the 
 constable gave the order to fall back. At break of day the Marseil- 
 laise perceived the army in full retreat, and flocking to the ramparts, 
 they saluted the rething Spaniards Avith clapping of hands and vic- 
 torious shouts ; on its part the culverin put forth its utmost powers, 
 and devastated their enemy's columns so long as they remained with- 
 in range. 
 
 Thus closed this gory ball to the sound of the same music to whicli 
 it had opened ; and yet it is no other than this venerable tower, on 
 which had stood the leading instrument in the orciicstra, that has 
 fallen beneath the decree of the municipal council. Peace be to its 
 shade both here and hereafter! 
 
 The Hotel de Ville, though somewhat defaced, has luidcrgone but 
 little cluxnge. There had existed the escutcheon of France, sculptured 
 by Pugct. Poor Puget, happily ignorant of the fate reserved bj' our 
 revolutions for his work, he had placed on the escutcheon those threu 
 Jlc\ir (/(• Us, which had been the arms of St. Louis, Francis I., and Louis 
 XIV. He imagined that the victories of Mansourah, of Marignan, and 
 of Denain. had moistened them witli suthcicntly glorious blood, to 
 insure t'ueir ])ermancnt vitality in the soil of France; but Puget 
 deceived himself, and his escutcheon, defaced by tlie hand of tho 
 j>eople, awaits in its jjlace, A\ithout colour or armorial bearings, the 
 new arms and colours that the will of France may please to select. 
 Dena dcdit, Dcus iJahit. 
 
 The great object that strikes the eye on ascending the stairs of 
 the Hotel de Ville of Marseilles is the statue of the assassin Libertat, 
 whose name, in which the ignorance of the j)eople saw a symbol, 
 proved a sutticient ])rotection against all attacks. 
 
 It was towards the close of tlie year 15!)ô, and consequently a year 
 since the entry of Henry IV. into Paris. All tlie cai)tuius of the League 
 had rallied round him ; every city of France had sent in its adhesion 
 to his claims, and there remained amongst the rebel commanders but 
 ri'lpcnion, Casana, and an obscure lieutenant of the name of Laplace; 
 and amongst the towns, but (îrasse, Prignoles, and Marseilles. 
 
 Heniy iV. luid defeated Mayenne at the battle of Fontaine-l''ran- 
 oaisc, and effected a reconciliation with tlie I'ojjc Clement VHI. The 
 newH of tlicsc two cvent.s, circulated at tho same time, the one by 
 ClmrlcH of Lorraine, Duke of Guise, son of the Ihihifn', whom he had 
 appointed governor in Provenci-, and the otlier by the Monseigneur 
 .\ijuaviva, vice-legate at Avignon, had greatly advanced the cause of 
 tlie i'.iarniiis ; ho tluit Ai.\, Aries, Moustiers, Uicz, ;\u])s, Cnstellane, 
 Ollioules, I,e ISaunel, Ccmcnos, Cegreste, and Minignane oj)ened tho 
 gate» to liic cry of "God save the King," and there remained, as wo
 
 GOTHIC MAUSIULLKS. 2"5 
 
 liavo 1)( lore said, but d'Epernon, ■who held Brigiioks, Luplaec, who 
 occu})iod Grasse and Marseilles, in the possession of Casaulx. 
 
 One morning, an ofliocr of the nanie of Granicr entered the cham- 
 ber of Laplace, wliilst he was at breakfast : " Comrade," said he, 
 " you must die! " and with action suited to the word, plung-ed a dag- 
 ger in liis breast. Such a demonstration Avas unanswerable; l.aplaco 
 opened liis eyes for a moment, uttered a ciy, and fell back a corpse. 
 The magistrates, immediately upon the receipt of tliis intelligence, 
 traversed the town, crying out, Vice !c Jioi, and when they perceived 
 the approach of the Duke of Guise at the head of tlie advanced guard 
 of his army, thej' went out to meet him, and opened the gatt-s to his 
 ibrces amidst the most enthusiastic demonstrations. 
 
 There was then left but Brignolcs and ^Marseilles. D'Ejiernon 
 himself liad been successively abandoned by all his captains, and by 
 a part of his soldiers. Of ten thousand men he had brought with 
 him, there scarcely remained true to him more than iifteen hundred. 
 But as he was of an obstinate and headstrong character, lie had 
 resolved to hold out to the last, to the despair of Brignoles and its 
 ncighboiu'hood. A peasant of the Val, of the name of Bcrgne, 
 determined to rid the country of the Jiiad Leaguer. 
 
 l)'l']pernon had taken u}) his quarters at the house of a man of the 
 name of lioger. The people of the Val owed lloger two loads of 
 wheat, which, owing to the scarcity of provisions, he denumded on 
 the very day they wei-e due. It was just the opportunity that Bergne 
 was waiting foi". He carried the two loads to Koger's house, substi- 
 tuting powder for the wheat, and tied together the two sacks just as 
 it was usual to tie the sacks of wheat, only in the fastening he ar- 
 ranged a contrivance by which, the moment the cord was untied, this 
 kind of infernal machine should be lired. He then quietly loaded 
 his mule witli his double sack, and went off to deliver it during the 
 duke's dinner hour, and placed it in the vestibule, which lay exactly 
 beneath the room where d'b'pernon was taking his repast. The peo- 
 ple of the house desired Bergne to stay till the return of Ivogcr, who 
 was absent, in order tliat ho might obtain his receipt , but Bergne, 
 who perceived a servant approaching the sack, and being anxious to 
 get away, replied that another day would do as well ; and so having 
 gained the door, the moment he had readied the outside oi tlie house 
 he tied at his topmost speed. 
 
 Scarcely had he reached the end of the street, when a tremendous 
 explosion was heard. The whole house was blown to atoms. ]J'Epcr- 
 iion, by a singular fortune, found himself astride of a beam, having 
 received only some slight wounds. 
 
 Still, as the attempt might be repeated, and he could scarcely
 
 2C6 TUL bOl III 01' niANCE. 
 
 hope to be always so fortunate ; as he had, besides, got pretty well 
 disgusted with the useless wai-, fruitful in nothing but open treason 
 and hidden perils, d'Epernon in his turn abandoned Provence. 
 
 There remained, therefore, only Marseilles and Casaulx to make 
 head against the growing power of Henry IV. 
 
 Like all those men who, having appeared suddenly on the political 
 stage and played for a moment some great part, but Avho soon have 
 sunk into obscurity without time to say their last word, Casaulx has 
 been harshly judged both by posterity and his own contemporaries. 
 Some say that, overlooking the ancient associations of the municipal 
 town, he had formed the design of breaking the tics that bound Mar- 
 seilles to the monarchy, witli the view of making her a free city — a 
 commercial republic similar to Genoa and Florence, to the realization 
 of which object the topographical position of the town was eminently 
 favourable. His own hopes in case of success, in all probability, 
 pointed to the cap of the doge or the banner of the gonfalonier. 
 
 Others, on the contrary, and their opinion is supported by that of 
 the President De Thou, maintain that d'Epernon was nothing but 
 an obstinate Leaguer, who sacrificed the town to his ambition, — an 
 ambition aspiring only to tlie title of Spanisli grandee, and to the 
 possession of some Calabrian manpiisate ; and, in truth, there is strong 
 reason to believe that the President Dc Thou was not far wrong. 
 
 Be that as it may, Casaulx was still master at Marseilles; he had a 
 bodv-guard, he levied contributions, lie confiscated the goods of tho 
 Iloyalists, he estabUshcd town dues; in fact, his fleet (for he even had 
 a fleet), having captured a vessel that had sailed from Leghorn, with 
 works of art, silver, and jewellery, presents from tho young Duke of 
 Tuscany to tho King of Franco, Casaulx appropriated the whole to 
 himself, without giving any account of it to tlie commune. It is, 
 indeed, true that it was valued at about 180,000 francs, a sum which, 
 although it cannot, perhaps, form an excuse, certainly furnishes a very 
 good reason for tlie act. 
 
 Casaulx then held Marseilles in a state of open war, at llie time 
 when the rest of Provence was pacified, and this was ])eciiliarly 
 agreeable to the Doge of Genoa and tho King of Spain, for Jean- 
 Andrew 1 )oria sent his four galleys with one Iiundred soldiers each, and 
 Charles II., very unjustly set down in genealogies as tho last male of the 
 house of Austria, engaged himself to let Marseilles want for neither 
 men nor money, on condition of Casaulx binding himself never to 
 neknowl((lf,'e Henry of Pourbon as king, never to ojien Ibc gates to 
 any but Spanish soldiers, and to fiwin no alliance withoiit the approval 
 of the court of Madrid. Casaulx jjromiscd all that was asked of him, 
 and, as a proof of his sincerity, lu> caused HeinT IV. to be burnt in 
 eflligy with great p(iMi[) on tlic place of the i'-xchange.
 
 GOÏILW JIAKSEILLKS. 2G7 
 
 Meanwhile some of the Marseilles people were far from being of 
 Casaulx's way of thinking, and occasionally adverse opinions were 
 expressed in a manner calculated to remove all doubt as to their 
 existence. One evening, as Casaulx was walking on the Place Neuve, 
 four shots were fired at him from the windows of a liouse, and killed 
 his cousin Altovelli, the assassins escaping under the protection of 
 night. 
 
 Another conspirator, of the name of Atria, was less fortunate in a 
 similar attempt, and expiated his failure with his life. He was a 
 monlc, and had formed the plan of blowing the consul up ; with this 
 view he communicated his design to another monk called IJrancoli, 
 and they both resolved to take advantage of the Christmas holidaj s, 
 and carry out their idea on the day when Casaulx came to worship the 
 holy sacrament in the church of the Preachers, by placing a grenade 
 beneath the bench on which he was accustomed to kneel. Unfortu- 
 nately, Brancoli confided the plot to his brother-in-law Bcquet — 
 Bequet lost no time in making his way to Casaulx and discovering 
 all, on condition that Brancoli should be pardoned. Casaulx was as 
 good as his word ; Brancoli was allowed to escape, while Atria was 
 hung ; his body Mas afterwards burnt, and his ashes scattered to the 
 winds. 
 
 These two attempts were not greatly calculated to encourage others 
 equally ambitious of forming new plots. Still there was one man, of 
 the name of Libertat, who did not abandon all hopes of reaching a 
 more satisfactory result. Libertat, like Casaulx, has been viewed in 
 two different lights ; one partj' have wished to represent him as a 
 really true friend of Marseilles, feigning, after the example of Lorenzo 
 de Medicis, the utmost goodwill and friendship for the consul, in order 
 to secm-e further time to the success of his attemjit ; whilst others 
 have pronounced him but a hired assassin, only engaged to the com- 
 mission of the crime by the seductive preliminary conditions of a 
 handsome reward ; and to the shame of humanity it must be acknow- 
 ledged that these last arc most probably right. In fact, the assassin's 
 conditions were, that he should be appointed governor and coTumander 
 of the lieale gate of the fort of Notre Dame de la Garde, together with 
 two galleys, G0,000 crowns down, an estate of the yearly rental of 
 2,000 more, and the town dues on spice and di-ugs ; and in addition 
 to the lion's share, other sums were to be paid to the minor assassins. 
 As to herself, Mai'seillcs was to preserve all her immunities, a supreme 
 court of justice was to be established, and a general amnesty pro- 
 claimed. The Duke of Guise, who was the principal party to these 
 conditions, received information tliat all was ready, nothing being 
 wanting but favourable opportunity.
 
 o(^ THE SOLTII OF FRANCE. 
 
 Finally, the 17th of January, 1.596, was fixed upon as the day of 
 execution, and the duke was put on the alert, and ready to enter the 
 town. On the IGtli, the conspirators, ha^ in g previously indulged for 
 tin inordinate time in the profoundest devotion, received in tlie church 
 of the Sisters of Sion the holy sacrament, which, says the chronicler, 
 they caused to be taken out of the tahernacle, in order to rcconiinoul 
 their enterprise to God. The Duke of Guise was punctual to his time, 
 •and arrived under the walls between the night of the IGth and the 
 ITtli. Scarcely had he done so, however, than a monk, perceiving 
 from tlic windows of his convent a large mass of troops by the glaiicing 
 of their arms in the obscurity, ran off to Casaulx in breathless haste, 
 and apprised him of the presence of the enemy beneath the walls, 
 disclosing his suspicions of some surprise. 
 
 Casaulx, who was in no very good liealth, and who was not inclined 
 to place too much confidence in the monk's story, sent Louis d'Aix to 
 reconnoitre this tioop. Louis d'Aix went out of the lleale gate, whidx 
 was under the command of Libcrtat, who drew up the drawbridge 
 -after him, so as effectually to bar his return. 
 
 Louis d'Aix did not push his nocturnal expedition very far, for he 
 soon fell in with a company of lloyalist soldiers under the orders of 
 the Seigneur d'Alamannon. At the first report of firearms the can- 
 non of the ramparts joined in the confusion. The Duke of Guise 
 thought all was lost, but Libcrtat found means to reassure him of his 
 fidelity, and that all the alarm was but a feint. The duke strictly 
 adhered to his advice. Louis d'Aix, finding liimself hard pushed 
 with liis men, made for the gate, in order to get back into the town, 
 but finding it closed against him he was on t]ie])oint of being taken, 
 when one of the monks of the Preachers threw him a cord, to which, 
 «timuluted by the hot pursuit in his rear, he clung with the grip of 
 despair. Tlie lusty J'reacher, after the most gigantic efforts, suc- 
 recdid in dra-^gini: the commajider to the top of the wall. 
 
 Day broke : Libcrtat, looking about him, saw that, in accordance 
 Avith his orders, all the conspirators luid, with few exceptions, joined 
 him ; they consisted of his two brothers, his two cousins, Jean Lau- 
 rens, Jacques .Martin, Jean Viguicr, and two others. Then, says our 
 chronicler, Pierre Libcrtat, wlio had some business to transact with 
 Casaulx, sent a message jiraying him to re])air without delay to the 
 lleale gate ; as the enemy was advancing in force at all ])()ints, and he 
 thought his ])resence lu'cessary to jnainlain the soldiers' coiniige. 
 
 Casaulx, without a suspicion of mischief, summoiu'd his bodj'- 
 ^'uar(l,g:ive them the order to arm, and set out at their head towards 
 the lleale gate, without even tiOung the ])reca\ition to arm hiinsclf. 
 At tills uionii'nt a snliliir, sci in<;- him ni)prnaching from a dis-
 
 GOTHIC MA11SKILI.es. 269 
 
 tance, said to Libcrtat, wlioso attention was occupied in another 
 direction : 
 
 " Captain, here comes Monsieur the Consul." 
 
 Libertat turned round, and distinctly saw the consul coming 
 towards him. He nuirched between two ranks of twenty men each, 
 and advanced at double quick time ; but Libertat was too impatient 
 to wait the approach of Casaulx ; he went out to meet him, and on 
 coming up with the first rank of musketeers he drew his sword. 
 This action struck the brigadier that led them as somewhat unusual, 
 and he consequently attempted to stop him with the point of his 
 lialbert ; but libertat, seizing the halbert by the handle, laid open 
 the officer's head with a blow of his sword, when instantly five or si.v 
 shots were fired, which, though aimed within point blank distance, 
 failed to wound him. Then giving the signal to his friends, he threw 
 himself into the ranks of the body-guard, which, giving way be- 
 fore him, left the passage open to the consul ; this latter, astonished 
 by all the fire and noise, half di-ew his sword, whilst retu'ing before 
 Libertat, and exclaimed : — 
 
 " What is your business with me, captain ?" 
 
 " I want to make you cry Vive le Hoi," said Libertat, at the same 
 moment plunging his sword into his bosom with such Ibrce as to 
 send out the point all bloody between his shoulders. Frightful as 
 was this wound, Casaulx was not killed instantaneously, for having 
 fallen at first on his face, he still had strength to rise on his knee ; 
 but at this crisis, Barthélémy Libertat, brother of Pierre, struck him 
 a blow behind the neck with a pike, when Casaulx sunk to rise no more. 
 
 The same day the Duke de Guise took possession of the town of 
 Marseilles, in the name of Henry IV., after swearing to maintain the 
 privileges of the commune, as, in truth, all the govci'nors were in the 
 habit of doing. 
 
 For his part, Libertat received all that had been promised him ; 
 rank, honours, money, land, and an abbey. ^More than this, he had 
 a marble statue erected in his honour. 
 
 That is the same statue before which you find yourself on cntering 
 thc Hotel de Ville of Marseilles ; and as regards which, as still more- 
 curious, the sword you see in its hand is the same with which Pierre 
 Libertat killed Casaulx. 
 
 As the Hotel de Ville contains nothing more very remarkable, 
 one may dispense Avith proceeding higher than the two first steps. 
 After the League came the Fronde ; Marseilles was split into factions, 
 the Canivets, or Mazarinistes, partisans of the king, and the 
 Sahreurs, or partizans of the princes. 
 
 From IGôl to 1607, men shot and slaughtered each other in the
 
 270 THE SOCTU OF FRANCE. 
 
 streets of Marseilles like dogs. At length it was whispered to Louis 
 XIV. that all the evil sprung fi-om the Marsaillaisc nominating their 
 own consuls, which officials were natm-ally indulgently inclined 
 towai"ds theii" townsmen. .Vnd p;utiaUty, as is well Icnown, proves 
 but a poor remedy in the case of civil wai*. 
 
 The advice given to Louis XIV. was eflfective, for he was also 
 perfectly of the opinion of Louis de Vcnto ; Avho counselled him to 
 depose the consuls elected by the people, and to name others himself. 
 The king asked for a list. Louis de Vcnto presented Lazare de Vento 
 Labane, Boniface Pascal, and Joseph Fabrc for his approval as con- 
 suls, and Jean Descamps, as assessor. Louis XIV. signed the 
 appointment without hesitation ; and instmcted Louis de Vendôme, 
 Duke of Mcrcœur, Peer of France, his governor in Provence, to 
 superintend the execution of the ordinance he had just issued. 
 
 The precaution was not without its adviuitages. The new con- 
 suls, having repaiicd to the Hotel de Ville to replace their predecessors, 
 were hooted in every street they passed thi'ough ; but feeling them- 
 selves strongly supported, they kept up their courage, and as some 
 corsairs had been observed hovering about the court, they seized this 
 as a pretext for praying Le Chevalier de Vendôme, son of the Duke 
 of Mercœur, to enter the port with his galley — a stmtagcm by which 
 they introduced soldiers into the town in contempt of its privileges. 
 The indignant town rose en masse. So is it with tliese heads of 
 I'rovence, always full of heat and fury — a spark tires the ti-ain, and 
 in Provence eveiy tire is a conflagration. 
 
 Gaspard de Niosellc headed tlie insurgents ; he was a num of 
 great courage, and possessed considerable populanty. Ten or a 
 dozen of those great Marsaillaisc names, so musical in tlieii- language, 
 and so sonorous in history, rallied round him at his first call. On tlie 
 l.'Uh of July, l().jS, during tlie sitting of tlie consuls, the Hotel de 
 Ville was attacked, shots were exi-hanged, and Xioselle was slightly 
 wounded; to the great exasperation of his ])ttrtizans, who now se- 
 riously threatened to cairy tlie building, when the consuls sent a 
 mediator to the insurgents. This mediator was Portia de Piles ; lio 
 engaged himself in the name of tlie consuls to send llic galley away. 
 Thus tlie storm was calmed, and the piople retired satisfied. 
 
 On the littli it was r(])(irt(d on the FxcluiMge tluit the consuis, in- 
 stead of sending back tlie galley, iiaU ai)plied for further reinforce- 
 ments; a rumour of the arrest of Niosellc at the same time getting 
 wind, tlie effect of these two pieces of intelligence was, to reinllamc 
 the still smouldering iiassiDiis, which the ])rcscnec of Niosellc, instead 
 of njisuaging.seenifd only the more to exasperate. He ]>laeed himself at 
 tiufir head, with his brother, the commander of Cugex ; the gates were
 
 GOTHIC MARSEILLES. 271 
 
 closed, the burghers assemblée! in arras, the women crovdcd to the 
 "\vindo^vs to animate them, and the consular soldiers were repulsed. 
 Fortia dc I'iles, desirous a second time of presenting himself as medi- 
 ator, had his valet killed at his side. They marched on the Hotel de 
 Ville, ■\^hich was speedily enveloped in the smoke of fire-arms, and 
 riddled with balls. One of the consuls escaped in the disguise of an 
 abbot, and the two others hung out towels, tied to the ends of their 
 wallcing canes, as a signal of their unconditional surrender. The 
 soldiers were compelled to betake themselves to the galley, and the 
 galley itself was driven out of the fort, doubled the mole-head, and 
 pushed out to sea, amidst the shouts of the whole town. 
 
 Nioselle was lord of Marseilles ; and the lirst use to which he put 
 his authority, was to place the town in the most respectable state of 
 defence possible ; but on the other side the Duke of Mercocur had 
 not been idle. A body of Koyalist troops had advanced so far as 
 VitroUes, and tlien to Pennes, and thence to Aubagne ; and the 
 chevalier Paul de Vendôme now blockaded the port with six vessels. 
 Marseilles was surrounded by land and sea. 
 
 Again, however, the parties came to an amicable arrangement: 
 the Duke of Mercœur was of the opinion of Pope Alexander VI., tliat 
 he desii-ed not the death of the wicked, but that rather he should live 
 and pay a handsome ransom. Besides, as is known, Mazarin still 
 permitted the sinner to sing ; and he must indeed be hardened to 
 complain. 
 
 Not only, however, did the transgressor complain, but scarcely 
 had he been relieved from the incubus of the Duke de ^Mercosur's 
 presence, than he revolted again. The king's consuls were ousted, 
 and were replaced by François de Bausset, Vaccr, and Legrange ; the 
 advocate, de Louie, being appointed assessor. So, as is perceived, 
 nothing was permanent, and all was to be done over again. 
 
 On the IGth of October, 16ô9, La Gouvernelle, lieutenant of the 
 guards of the Duke de Mercœur, reached Marseilles : he was the 
 bearer of a decree of the parliament of Aix, for the arrest of Gaspard 
 de Nioselle ; he was in the act of reading tliis decree to the consuls, 
 when the partizans of de Nioselle burst into the council chamber, 
 seized and tore up the parliamentary decree, and captured the mus- 
 taches of La Gouvernelle. This time things M^ent too far, and Louis 
 XIV. decided to come in person, and bring the mutineers to reason. 
 
 Accordingly, on the 12th of January, IGGO, the king passed the 
 Khone at Tarascon ; and, on the 17th, accompanied by the queen 
 mother, by the Duke of Anjou, by Mademoiselle, by the Cardinal 
 Mazarin, by the Prince of Conti, by the Count of Soissons, and the 
 Countess Palatine of Ncvers, he made his entry into Aix by the gate 
 of the AuKustins.
 
 270 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Mai-seilk'S knew well that Louis XIV. was not a man to joke 
 with. His entry into the parliament, spurred and booted, had rung 
 through France ; and it was not now with the lash, but sword in 
 hand, that he presented liiniself. 
 
 As he was the most prominent transgressor, Nioselle was com- 
 pelled to hide himself; and, with his two friends, ho found a refuge 
 in the cellars of the Capucines ; Etienne de Puget, bishop of Mar- 
 seilles, being sent to the king to disarm his anger. 
 
 Etienne de Puget seemed highly flattered with the choice of his 
 countrymen, but as he had some peccadilloes to reproach himself 
 with, connected with the place of revolt itself, whose cause he was 
 going to plead, he determined to interest the king more deeply, by 
 adding to his age a score of years. 
 
 And in this he succeeded, by enveloping his head in an immense 
 leather cap, infusing a continuous tremor into his legs, and modelling 
 his face to a certain grimace, carefully studied before a glass, whose 
 effect was to throw out into bold relief every line and furrow ; with 
 which skilful precautions he presented himself before the king 
 
 The farce was so well sustained that Louis XIV. was duped ; he 
 approached close to the bishop, lowered his head to catch his voice, 
 for the poor old prelate was so weighed down with years, and his 
 voice was so feeble that liis words could not otlurwisc reach the 
 king's cars; in fine, the king, touched by tlie venerable ambassador's 
 infirmities, ordered an arm-chair to be brought for him. The ambas- 
 sador, after some little difficulty, secretly delighted with his success, 
 Bat down. Once established in his seat, so violent a fit of cougliing 
 attacked the poor old man, as to make the court afraid of his going 
 off into a fit, and offered so fine an opportunity for advancement, that 
 several of the abbés of Mazarin's suite gathered round the cardinal 
 to urge their claims to the reversion of the bishopric. Mazarin to 
 the first was silent, to the second he said as little ; but when a third 
 addressed him, lie called the captain of his guards, and pointing to 
 the bishop, who, bent double in his chair, still kept up the play 
 with the utmost success. 
 
 " .Monsou de Hrzt'maux," said he, in tliat Italian accent, which so 
 j)le!isantly set off his usual facetiousncss, "be so good as to kill Mon- 
 sieur de Puget." 
 
 Every one was struck with horror. 
 
 Ri'-zemaux made an instinctive gesltne of refusal; the liishop 
 sprang to his feet ; Louis XIV. alone, ever witl» an eye to some jnecc 
 of pleasantry, burst out laughing; and even the sacerdotal candidates 
 for the prelacy looked upon this a» a somewhat expeditious mode for 
 vacating it.
 
 GOTHIC MARSEILLES. 27.1 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mazarin, " \vhat is it, then, that you want me 
 to do ? I must of necessity order him to be put to death, since you 
 have not the patience to await his decease." 
 
 In spite, liowever, of the humour of Mazarin, wliich liad caused 
 him such terror, the bishop Avas able to obtain nothing positive. 
 Louis XIV. said that ho would examine on the spot, what there was 
 to be done, and he sent the Duke do !Mercœui-, to announce his good 
 pleasure to ^Marseilles, with seven thousand men. 
 
 The way in which the Duke de ^Icrcccur fulfilled his mission, M-as 
 fai- from encouraging ; the consuls had gone out to meet him as far 
 as Avenc, and he ordered them to go back and await liis presence 
 at the Hotel de Ville. On his entry into Marseilles, the Duke de 
 I\lerc(vur marked out certain places, where gibbets Averc simulta- 
 neously erected, after wliich he repaired to the communal hotel, 
 and entered the chamber of the municipal deliberations with his 
 guards ; when, seeing tlie consuls standing uncovered, he addi'essed 
 them : — 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " I am of opinion that you are more unfor- 
 tunate than culpable, but you have fallen into disgrace with the 
 king. His maji'sty lias determined that you shall no longer be 
 consuls ; and tliat for the future there shall be no more magistrates 
 of tliat name. Pie has resolved to change the form of government 
 of the town, and has insti'ucted me to depose you, and to place your 
 authority in the hands of M. de Piles, as civil and militaiy governor, 
 till sucli time as his majesty has regulated the form of your political 
 government." 
 
 Having finished this speech, the Duke of INIercœur made a signal 
 to the captain of his guards, Avho approached the consuls, and di- 
 vested them of their robes of crimson velvet lined with white, and 
 embroidered with the symbols of their office. Thus despoiled, the 
 consuls retired, being informed by the duke, as they withdrew, that 
 all the other municipal officers, even including that of district cai)tain 
 should be maintained, and that the soldiers would pay for everything 
 they took. The same day the four robes Avere sent to Mazarin, in 
 ju'oof of the execution of the king's orders, and the troops encamped 
 in the streets. 
 
 The bronze cannon were then destroyed, not forgetting the famous 
 culvcrin of glorious mcmoiy, Avhich had beaten off the Bourbon, and 
 a practicable breach was finally made in the Avail, that the king might, 
 in accordance with his expressed desire, enter Marseilles as into a 
 toAvn taken by assault. In fact the king, after having paid a visit 
 to St. Bcaunie, and after having shoAvn himself " resplendant as the 
 sun" (which Avas his desire) at Toulon, Hyères, Solier, lirignoUes, and
 
 TA THE SOUTH OF FUANCE. 
 
 at Xotrc-Damc de Graces, veiled tlie glories of his countenance 
 behind the cloud of his displeasure, and at four o'clock in tlie after- 
 noon of the 2!id of March, IGOO, presented himself on horseback 
 before the breach. 
 
 iVrrived there, he cast his glance on the gate, wliich ^Yas covered 
 with confusion being the object of the royal contempt, and observing 
 above it a large tablet of black marble, on which there was this in- 
 scription in golden letters : — 
 
 Sub cujus imperio summa libcrtas.* 
 
 He asked what the inscription was, and was informed that it 
 was the motto of Marseilles. 
 
 " Under my predecessors that may have been possible," said Louis 
 XIV., " bat not under me." Upon which he made a sign, and tlie 
 tablet disappeared. 
 
 The king stayed no longer than was necessary for the execution 
 of his orders, and again continued his march. On the breach he was 
 met by De Piles, who on his knees, presented him, with the golden 
 keys of the town on a silver salver. The king went tln-ougli the 
 form of taking them, and replaced them again on the plate. " Keep 
 them De Piles," said he, " you guard them well ; I give them to you." 
 Behind the king marched a Provençal captain, of the name of 
 AValtrick, at the head of two companies of troops. Tliis man ordered 
 the city gates to be thrown open for him, and in answer to the obser- 
 vation that the breach had been expressly made for his passage, he 
 replied " That would be an insult to my country: this breach will 
 do very well ibr a king, but we captains, and men of war, enter 
 througJi no breaches but what are made by cannon balls." 
 
 The king took uj) his abode in the Hutil de liiqnctti de Mirabeau, 
 ancestor of the famous Mirabeau, destined, a century later, to shako 
 so protbundly that some monarchy which Louis XIV. thought eternal. 
 As to the hotel, it is the same that stands at the i)resent day on the 
 Place dc Lenche, and used as the hosjjital for foinidlings. 
 
 Along the whole route the king liad met with none but men; — 
 not a female face had shown itself. Tlie young king, as well as 
 those who formed liis suite, not excejiting the cardinal himself, had 
 so notorious a reputation, that this occurred at all the royal entrits. 
 AVives and daugliters de])i()red it no less tluiii the king and his 
 courtiers; but futliirs ami liusbandH were prejudiced on the point. 
 
 NioHclle was condemned to lose his head; and the decree ordained 
 in addition, that both he and his ])(mlerity should be degraded from 
 the ranks of tlic nobility, that his arms should be destroyed by tlio 
 
 • Perfoct libcrtj- enjoyed under any Govcnimcnt.
 
 GOTHIC MARSEILL^. "75 
 
 public executioner, that his house should be razed to the ground, 
 and that ou its site should be erected a pyramid, recording his 
 xnfamy. 
 
 This decree was faithfully executed, with the simple exception 
 of tlie most important point. Though a price of six thousand livres 
 had been placed on his head, no one was found base enough to 
 betray him, and Nioselle succeeded in reaching Barcelona, where he 
 lived in exile for fifty-five years. 
 
 At the end of this pei-iod Louis XIV., aged, and near his end, 
 granted him a free pardon. Nioselle came back to his coimtry, saw 
 the pyramid that dishonoured his name levelled with the ground^ 
 was reinstated in his honours and rank, and died the same year ; 
 as though he awaited but his restoration, to take leave of this world. 
 
 As to Louis XIV., during a ramble at Marseilles, observing the 
 chaiTning houses surrounding the town, smiling beneath the sun, 
 and raising their white walls, their red tops, and their green blinds 
 amongst the scattered pines that concealed them, he inquired by 
 what name those pretty residences were called in the language of 
 the country. 
 
 " They call them Bastides," replied Fortia de Piles. 
 
 " Good," said Louis XIV., " very good ! I, also will have a Bas- 
 tide at Marseilles. Duke of !Morcœur, choose me a position, and I 
 will take it upon myself to provide you with an architect." 
 
 The locality fixed upon was in front of the tower of St. John, 
 built by King Héné ; the architect was "\'auban ; the Bastide was 
 called the Fort St. Nicholas. 
 
 When the foundation stone was laid, the following inscription, 
 which we translate from the Latin for the greater advantage of our 
 readers, was placed on it with much pomp : — 
 
 " For fear, lest the foithfiil Marseilles, too often the victim of the crimiual 
 agitations of some, should either, by the hardihood of the unprincipled, or 
 by too great a passion for liberty, finally bring about its own, as well as the 
 whole kingdom's destruction, Louis XIV., King of the French, has provided 
 for the safety of the nobles and of the people, by the construction of this fort. 
 The king has ordained it ; Jules Mazarin, after the conclusion of the Peace 
 of the Pyrenees, coimsclled it; Louis de Vendôme executed it, 1660." 
 
 The fort St. Nicholas was demolished in 1787 ; that fatal year for 
 bastides. 
 
 s 2
 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Tin; viiADo. 
 
 There still remain a fow dark ami tcrrihlo souvenirs, like the on? w;- 
 have juat evoked, and Avhieh dates from ISlô. AVe coidd reeall them 
 to tlic minds of our readers, but they arc too recent. Wo will there- 
 foix- ))ass them over in silence, in order to arrive the more speedily at 
 the Marseilles of the present day. 
 
 Formerly, when a stran<^er arrived at Maiscilles, and wished to 
 partake of rions and l/iiiiillv-dfxiissr, the two national dislies of the IMio- 
 tians, he was asked, in the usual tiine-lionoured words, " ] )<) you know 
 J'olieur ?" and the stranger replied, " Yes, 1 know Poliear :" for I'oli- 
 oar was known by every body. 
 
 A\'ho h.as hurled I'olicar from liis high jiosilion, who has thrown 
 tlie statue from its ])edestal, I know not; but I know (hat when, at 
 my last journey, 1 spoke of Toliear, every one lau^^hed in my face; 
 and when I persisted, as I remembered I'olicar with gratitude, some 
 one asked me if I had just returned from Astracan? 
 
 Throuj^h fear of bein;^ tossed, like Saiu-ho, in n blanket, T was cnm- 
 fK'Iled to l)e silent ; yet, as I had a f,neat mind to taste som(< r/nri's and 
 iotn'l/r-iil>iii\si\ I mustered eoura(,'e enough to say, in a minute afterwarils: 
 
 " Wliere shall we yo, (lien :'"
 
 TJIE rr.ADO. 277 
 
 " To the Prado." 
 
 I directly understood tliat it was the Prado wliich had dethroned 
 Policar. 
 
 A\'hilc -waitin;;- till it was time to go to the spot m question, wu 
 took a stroll round tlic harbour. 
 
 The harbour of jNIai-seilles is the most striking one I have ever 
 seen, not on aceount of the many vessels it contains, nor of its pano- 
 rama, which e.vtcnds from Notre-Dame to the tower of St. John; nor 
 ot its humming-birds, parrots, and monkeys, which, deceived by thio 
 beautiful climate of the south, fancy they arc still in their own coun- 
 tiy, and, by their songs and gestures, amuse the passer-by in a. 
 thousand v.ays ; but, because it is the rendezvous of the wliole world- 
 No two persons clothed in the same manner are to be met with there;; 
 nor two men speaking the same language. 
 
 It is true that the water is very dirty ; but above this water, wîïicli, 
 on account of its dirtiness, is all the better, as the ■Marseillais affirm, 
 for the preservation of the vessels, there is so blue a sky, tilled with 
 such beautiful gulls in the day-time, and studded with such shining 
 stars at night, that a nuin may certainly be allowed not to look down_, 
 when there is so fine a sight to view above him. 
 
 It was into this harbour that the bodies of the Mamelukes were 
 thrown in 1815. Poor fellows! do you know what crime they had 
 connnitted ? 
 
 Napoleon had brought them from Egypt, where tliey had served 
 Ibraliim and Mourad-Bey. As a compensation for the country they 
 had lost, he had given them a fine climate, one like their own, and a 
 small pension, in order to procm-e them a pleasant life and a tranquil 
 death. Itis not astonishing that these childi-en of Ishmael should have 
 loved Napoleon. 
 
 A\'hen he fell in IS 14, large tears ran down their cheeks: they 
 were seen to weep, and thch- gratitude was turned into a crime. 
 They could no longer go out, ^vithout being insulted and stoned; yet 
 tliey had neai-ly become Frenclnnen ; they wore coats and trowsers, 
 and of their own costume had kept but the turban. The head-dress 
 is always the last thing that a man's nationality allows him to pai-t 
 with. 
 
 The Mamelukes at last laid aside their turbaris, and substituted 
 hats. This sacrifice ought certainly to have been taken into accoiuit; 
 such, however, was not the case. Their white moustaches attracted 
 attention, and outrage still jmrsuod them. 
 
 They might have cut off their moustaches, but had not the coui-age 
 to do so : they prcfei-red remaining at home. For some time, people 
 w(>].t and cried, Vice Ic roi.' belbre their houses, and broke theii* win-
 
 S78 THE SOUTE OF FRANCE. 
 
 dows ; but at last the public mind became more calm, and they were 
 left conipai-ativcly tmdistmbed. 
 
 One morning-, it was reported that Napoleon had landed at the 
 Gulf of Juan : the Mamelukes looked out through their key -holes. A 
 week after, they learned he was at Lyons : they showed their heads at 
 the windows. Thi-ec weeks alter, they heard he was at Paris : they 
 put on theii- old warlike caftims, those that had been at Embabeh, 
 Abotikir, and Heliopolis, and Avalked about tlie streets of Marseilles, 
 where they had not dared to appear for the last year. 
 
 A\'hen they met any of either sex who had insulted them — for 
 women, too, had done so — they stopped before them, and twisting their 
 long, white moiistaches, and shaking theii" heads, said, with a smile of 
 triumph : 
 
 " Xupoleioni', il c p'nni fort que tout." 
 
 " Napoleon is stronger thau all." 
 
 Such was the crime lor which these poor Mamelukes were all assas- 
 sinated. I5ut why on earth were they grateful ? A like misfortuuo 
 happened neither to Prince Talleyrand nor to the Duke of Ilagusa. 
 
 The chief advantage of the harbour of Mai'seilles is, that it atibrds 
 in all weathers a dry promenade, paved with flat bricks, a circum- 
 stance that cannot be too mucli appreciated, especially by a person 
 coming from Lyons. There is shade, too, in the summer, and sun in 
 the winter, which is, and always will be, an invaluable advantage, 
 no matter whence one comes, nor whither the other goes. 
 
 Wliat a pity tliat the water of the harbour is so dii-ty, and that 
 the bodies of the Mamelukes were thrown into it! 
 
 From the haibour we went to the Museum. 
 
 Under the name of museum, whicli solemn title is seen on a door 
 opposite the Marché des Capuchins, are included the Academy of 
 Marseilles, sister to the Academy of Lyons ; the Library, of which 
 Méry is the director ; the Cabinet of Natural History ; the Cabinet 
 «)f MedalH ; the School of Design ; tiie School of Arcliitecture ; and 
 the Gallery of Pictures. 
 
 Tlic whole are contained within the old convent of the lU-rnurdines. 
 
 The Library possesses fifty tiiousand volumes, and from eight to 
 ten thousand inanustripts. Tlie collect ion of bonks was discontinued at 
 the end of the eighteentli centurj- ; tiie .\endemy of Marseilles believ- 
 ing, probably, tliat notliing imd been written since that epoch wortliy 
 of perusal. Méry is enij)loyed, to the great horror of the Provencal 
 Academicians, in comi)letiiig it, and will jjrolmbly lose liis place in 
 con»equence. So much the better! for tlieii he will perhaps write 
 another Vill'liudc, 
 
 The Cabinet of Natural History, on the eontrary, is becoming
 
 THE PRADO. 2T9 
 
 every day more and more valuable. There is not a vessel Mliich 
 arrives from the arctic or the antarctic pole, from Calcutta or Jjuenos- 
 Ayrcs, from New Holland or Greenland, that does not bring its 
 tribute. The result is that the different kingdoms are verj' closely 
 packed, and the captains have been begged to bring back nothing 
 but striated monkeys, pilchards, and humming-birds. 
 
 The School of Design is proud and blustering ; tliis is because 
 she has produced Paulin Guérin, Beaume, and Tanuem-. 
 
 Her sister, the School of Arehitectm-e, however, is veiy humble ; 
 the poor thing has only produced Pugct, and she is waiting for some- 
 thing better. 
 
 The Gallery of Pictures is magnificent ; few cities in Provence 
 possess as valuable a collection as INIarseilles does : it is true that 
 this city, since the taking of Algiers, has become a capital. 
 
 The place in which the pictures are hung remind one, at first sight, 
 of the Sistine chapel. Here is the same fault in the manner in which 
 the light enters thi'ough scanty windows ; but there is also the same 
 silence and solemnity. After all, the pictui-es perhaps gain by this — 
 on looking attentively, they can be seen. 
 
 There are in the jNIuseum of Marseilles t\velve or fifteen pietui-es 
 of the first order ; a landscape by Annibal Carracci ; a large Assump- 
 tion, by Augustine Caracci; a picture by Perugin, the like of which 
 are neither at Paris nor at Florence ; two immense pictures by Yien ; 
 <a superb portrait attributed to Vandyck ; two pictures by Puget, who, 
 after having given to marble the appearance of animation, occasionally 
 took up the pencil to make a piece of canvas swell with life ; a Sal- 
 vator llosa ; a Michael Angelo Carravagio ; a !Mh-aculous Draught of 
 Fishes, by Jordaens ; a Guercini of magnificent colouring; and lastly 
 the chij'-iV œuvre of the Museum, the celebrated Hunt of Rubens. 
 
 When all these have been viewed, it will be well to examine a 
 Alcrcuiy, wliich. is in a corner of the chamber, at the back, it is 
 but a copy, it is true, but a copy fi-om Raphael by M. Ingres. 
 
 On leaving the Museum, we returned to the Place Royale for a 
 coach. There I saw the famous fountain, which constitutes the chief 
 ornament of the place. Like the famous lake of which Herodotus 
 speaks, it wants but one thing — water. ]Mérj' calls it the " hydropho- 
 bic " fountain ; it is not at all unlikely that it will keep the name. I 
 asked if 1 could not see any other ; for this one had hurt my feelings. 
 
 Méry ordered the coachman to take us first to the Rue d'Aubagne- 
 there I saw what I wanted, that is, a fountain well supplied; it is 
 dedicated to the pocta Sovranno, as Dante is called, and this simple 
 inscription is written on it : — I'hc descendants of the ]?hocians to Ho- 
 mer, A magnificent plateau extends beyond the fountain, which fio\vs
 
 l<^ THE SOCTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 into a Trojan basin. You nii^Mit fancy yourself before the Screan Gat>', 
 or the banks of the Simois. It is a chapter of tlie Odyssey in action. 
 
 I perceive that I have just copied, or nearly so, four lines out ( t" 
 the 'StniDfier's Album. These devils of Marseillais possess so much 
 wit and poetry, that they tlirust it cveiywherc, even in their iruidc 
 books, a thin<; unknown in any other place. David says, in speaking 
 of the inhabitants of Provence, that if tliey possessed less imagination 
 they would nearly all be men of genius. 
 
 "\Vc passed near the pyramid on the Place Castellan. I presume 
 that it was raised for no other object but to serve as pendant to the 
 triumplial arch before the Gate of Aix. The one is about as good as 
 the other : the triumphal arch, however, has the disadvantage over 
 the pyramid of being covered witli sculptures, which somewhat spoil 
 llie stone, while they do not embellisli it. 
 
 At a hundred steps from this place, you find yourself outside 
 Marseilles, on a splendid boulevard, where there will be plenty ot 
 shade in twenty years, if the trees continue to grow ; in the mean- 
 time there is plenty of dust. Dust is the plague of Marseilles; it is; 
 in your eyes, your mouth, your pockets. You may put up with it, if 
 vou be a philosopher ; but nobody can ever like it, not even an optimist. 
 
 All the surrounding mountains are actually calcined by the sun. 
 I dont know where on earth I,ucan saw his famous sacred forest, in 
 whicli Cipsar had liis war engines made, nor wliere ^^'illiam of Tyre 
 discovered those magnificent woods, in which the crusaders cut the 
 mn.sts for tlicir ships. Perhaps it is on account of the great quantities 
 of wood tlun used, that there is liuch a scarcity of it now; all I can 
 say is, that, at present, not even enough could be I'ouiul to make a 
 bundle of lucifer matches. 
 
 To compensate for this, however, there arc magnificent valleys of 
 sand, of tlie same kind as those which lead to the lake of Xatroun. 
 
 "W'lien the giraffe first came to Marseilles, it arrived ill. Tlie 
 learned declared that it was sea-.sick ; but tlie driver sliook liis head, 
 and explained, in excellent I'.thiopian, that what they took fen- sea- 
 sickness, was s\m\)\y )i()xf<i/i/i<is. As the learned di(ln<>t understand a 
 word of what the driver had said, liuy looked wise, bowed (heir 
 heads, reHectcd for an instant, and then replied that he was perhaps 
 right. The JCfhiopian, seeing that they were of his o])inion, seized 
 the animal's sfring, and at twelve o'clock precisely, under a burning 
 Hun, led it along the sea to tlio j)asseH of .Mount ]{edon. 
 
 As soon as tlie giruH'e found itself in the midst of these barren rocks, 
 it raised its head, disfendcd its nostrils, struck the ground with its foot, 
 and seeing a cloud of sand, as liot as the sand to which it was accus- 
 tomed at home, rise all around, it fane ied itself back ag.iin in Dai-nnircr
 
 ÎHE PRADO. 581 
 
 Kordofan, and jumped about with such unbounded joy, that it tore its 
 string fi'om the driver's hand, leaped over his head, and disappeared be- 
 hind the rock. The poor Etliiopian ran back to Marseilles, quite dis- 
 consolate. When the leai-ned perceived he was alone, they directly 
 conjectured that he had come back without the giraffe. From this 
 conjectui-e to the supposition that the animal was lost, there was but 
 one step — a step the scientific world immediately made with that 
 certainty for which they arc so famous. 
 
 They immediately asked tlic commander of the garrison for two 
 regiments. These two regiments suiTounded Mount Kedon, and 
 found the giraffe stretched full length on the fine African sand, which 
 had restored it to life. The giraffe was too comfortable to allow itself 
 to be retaken without trying to escape ; but it had to deal with a 
 skilful strategist. The colonel who commanded the expedition was a 
 native of Gemenos, and consequently acquainted with the defiles of 
 Mount Redon. After having performed prodigies of agility, the pooi 
 giraflfc, seeing itself everywhere surrounded by the military, was 
 forced to surrender. So, it gave itself up to the Ethiopian, who led 
 it in triumph to Marseilles. 
 
 It had never been better in its life ; a single day in the sands of 
 Mount Ivcdon had sufficed to restore it to health. 
 
 On turning the angle of the wall, we found ourselves before the 
 sea. Nothing else now attracted our attention. From the beach of 
 the Prado, in pai'ticular, the sea is magnificent. 
 
 As for me, I could not resist the temptation : I let Mîry go and order 
 the clovis and the houille-ahaiae at the Muette de Portici and jumped 
 into a boat. 
 
 The boat belonged to a fisherman, who was just going to pull up 
 his nets ; in addition to the mere excursion, I had the amusement of 
 fishing in perspective. 
 
 "While going to his buoys, the fisherman told me the names of all 
 the capes and promontories: they were sonorous names, mostly 
 borrowed from the Ionian language, and which, in the absence of 
 chronicles, would attest the origin of the ancient possessors of this 
 jjart of the world. 
 
 On the verge of the horizon, rises the light-house of Planier, built 
 on a rock in the middle of the sea. The fisherman told me, as he 
 rowed along, that this light-house had been the scene, a few months 
 before, of a terrible accident : a ship, loaded with sugar, had been 
 thrown on the rock 'that forms its base, had split, and gone down. 
 All the crew were saved, but the cargo Avas lost. 
 
 " The deuce ! " I exclaimed, touched by the loss of the captain and 
 owners of the ship, " it was a great misfortune."
 
 882 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " Indeed it was! " replied my companion. " Fancy, sir, that foi 
 more than six weeks there was not a wliiting to be seen for three 
 leagues ronnd. It appears that this fish can't beai" sugar and water." 
 So the loss of the sugar was looked upon ixs a misfortune by tliis 
 sympathizing man, merely because it had diivcn away the whitings 
 for six weeks. 
 
 Fortunately, the first net that we di*ew up gave us the proof that 
 the whitings had returned : it had three in it, one of which was as 
 large as a man's leg. The others contained wolf-fish, gurnets, sur- 
 mullets, and dorades : there were all sorts, even a spiny lobster, 
 which had most probably come to play upon the other fisli, but which, 
 by a reverse of fortuuc, would, it was not unlikely, be devoured itself. 
 
 AVe returned with our booty, which immediately passed froni the 
 bottom of the boat into the frying-pan and fish-kettle. Méry then 
 presented me to Couity, the master of the establishment, wliich is 
 called the Muette de Portici. 
 
 Courty appeared greatly embarrassed : he had been told that I 
 was an experienced gastronomist, and tliis had placed me much 
 higher in his esteem than if I had been simply presented to him as 
 tlie author of Antony and Mademoiselle de Belle Isle. 
 
 Xow Courty is an artistic cook, worthy of inhabiting a place 
 better able than Marseilles to appreciate the science so profoundly 
 treated of by Urillat-Savarin. With a few exceptions, no one seems 
 to think it necessarj- to dine at Marseilles ; provided they eat, they 
 are content. 
 
 In consequence of this, Courty is lost among a people who do not 
 understand liim. Yet this does not liinder him from discovering, 
 from time to time, an unknown dish. In this respect he is of the 
 same opinion as M. Hcnrion dc Panscy, who said that the discovciy 
 of a new dish was more useful to humanity than the discovery of a 
 new star. •'There will always be cnougli stars for the use we maicc 
 of them," says Courty, disdainfully. This is so mucli the more true, 
 as there are many more stars at Marseilles than at I'aris. 
 
 Coarty Hurjjassed liimself. I regretted that I was not equal to the 
 reputation tlicy liad given me. My jjiaise opened liis heart: he told 
 nie his troubles. Near tlie Muelte de I'ortiei is a low tavern, fre- 
 quented, on account of its low prices, by everybody, even by those 
 wlu) ought not to go there. 
 
 'I'his, j)erha])s, is because there are flowers and shade at Courty's; 
 things to whicli the Marseillais are not accustomed. 
 
 AVliile we were dining, a friend of Mi'-ry's eanie and invited us to 
 pfo fishing liy torchlight tliiit evening. We took care to accept. In 
 the meantime Méry asked jwrmission of l»is friend for me to visit his
 
 TUE PRADO. 2ti3 
 
 house, which was built after such an antique and foreign fashion, 
 that they are convinced at Marseilles it has crossed the sea, like that 
 of Notre-Dame de Lorette. It has been culled, on this account, the 
 Phoenician House. 
 
 It was;, in fact, quite an eastern building', like those found at Flo- 
 rence, with two stories, and columns supporting a roof, which served 
 as a double terrace. In the daytime the terrace was under the roof, 
 and at night above it. 
 
 The little houses at Marseilles have, besides, a creeping trellis, 
 reaching halfway up the walls, which is green in- the spring, red iu 
 autumn, and loaded Avith magnificent grapes half the year. 
 
 After having shown us his house, ]M. Morel presented us to his 
 family, which was composed of thi-ee or fom* girls, all rivalling each 
 other in beauty ; of about the same number of sons-in-law, and of 
 double the number of grandchildren. 
 
 All reside together in this little Phœnician house, which ajjpears 
 to me one of the happiest in Marseilles. Yet !M. ^lorel was going to 
 pull it down, and build, in its stead, a bastide, similar to all the bas- 
 tides in Provence, that is, something square, a sort of fortress, with 
 holes at regular intervals, which are open dming the day and closed 
 at night ; though, in my opinion, the contrary ought to be the case. 
 'M. Morel, to the great horror of Méry, was about to begin his work 
 of demolition, when one of his daughters found, in an old coffer that 
 had not been opened for two hujidi-ed years, an old manuscript writ- 
 ten on old parchment, in a hand so hierogI}-phical, that neither M. 
 ^lorcl nor his sons-in-law imderstood a word of it ; they Avere obliged 
 to get Méry to read it. 
 
 M. Morel hoped that it was a title deed, which would double his 
 rent-roll; but it was only a mcmoii- of the time of the Connétable, and 
 related to the Phoenician House. 
 
 The Phoenician House had played a conspicuous part dm-ing the 
 siege of Marseilles. As soon as it became known that the Phoenician 
 House belonged to history, it was no longer possible, as will be casilj" 
 understood, to pull it do-wn ; so it was allowed to remain, much to the 
 satisfaction of Mcry. 
 
 I begged M. Morel to allow me to read this memoir ; but he likes 
 fishing better than ai'chœology, and said that he would give it to me 
 when he retm-ned. Niglit came on with that rapidity peculiar to 
 southern climates, and we had scarcely time to make om- preparations. 
 
 Every one, however, set to work, men and women, myself among 
 the rest. My tight coat incommoded me ; they brought me one of 
 il. Morel's jackets ; I could have put both Méry and myself in it. 
 Put Méry was in Iris cloak ; and when Muiy is iu his cloak, it L» 
 impossible to get him out of it.
 
 2S4 TnE SOUTH OF FRANCK. 
 
 At about nine, everything was ready. One of M. Morel's sons 
 in-law undertook to kcci^ up the fire, Avhich was burning at the jirow 
 in an iron chating-dish ; two others Avere armed A\itli fish-gigs, to 
 liarpoon tlio prey with, and stood respectively starboard and larboard. 
 M. -Morel and I did the same; for, in spite of my opposition, they 
 had placed me in the active part of the boat. Méry was at the poop, 
 in the midst of the ladies, who lent him theii- shawls to heap on over 
 his cloak. Jadin, pencil in hand, sat down on one seat, with Mylord 
 between his legs; and the fisherman, with a scull in each hand. i)laced 
 himself on the other. Courty, who remained behind, pushed the 
 bark, and we were immediately afloat. 
 
 At this moment, Jadin had an awful tussle Avith Mylord, who 
 absolutely wanted to go and swallow the fire. I.oud barking followed; 
 which, as it was not in the programme of the sport, terminated in 
 stifled growls — a sure proof tluit Jadin had had recourse to a desperate 
 remedy — namely, the toe of his boot — in order to obtain the silence 
 necessary for the j)ursuit we were engaged in. However, as this acci- 
 dent had not attracted the fish, we doubted for some time of our success. 
 Not a single fish Avas to be seen, and yet Ave perceived, through three or 
 four feet of Avater, the bottom of the sea, as if it Avere only separated 
 from us by a thin gauze. Suddenly, one of M. Morel's sons-in-hnv 
 aimed liis harpoon, and dreAV it back Avith a kind of snake Avrithing 
 at the end — it was a conger three or four feet long. I thought the 
 thing veiy ugly, and detennined to catch none like it. 
 
 This, at least, proved that Ave Averc entering inliabitcd domains. 
 
 The bottom of the sea, thus seen by fire at niglit, is one of the 
 most curious things that can be imagined. lake the earth, it has 
 parts tliat are covered, and parts that have notliing but sand and 
 long, dark sea-weed on them, Avliere the fish a])pear like gold and 
 silver; tlien it has its open jilains, Avhere you perceive nautiluses and 
 sea-urchins, loaded Avitli their jionderous baggage, lieavily Avending 
 their Avay, and leaving their trace behind. "Wherever a rock appears, 
 you arc sure to discover, among tlie mussels aiul oysters that have 
 establised their sedentary domicile tliere, a fcAv big-bellied polypuses, 
 Avitli their eyes starting out of tluir heads, and catching Avitii tlicir 
 long, trembling arms, at the pny tliat their n\)cu mouths are ahvays 
 ready to receive. All these tilings Avere enjoying, each according to 
 its instinct, their mysterious and submarine lives, Avhen Ave made our 
 apiMaianee, and brought dire trouble botii l)y fire and sAvord. 
 
 'I'lie boat began to fill; M. Morel and his sons-in-luAV seenuvl to bo 
 trying Aviiicjj of tlulu should stick tlieniost. Tluir success excited 
 mc. The boat, kejit in motion b}' the movement of the sculls, cun- 
 tinued to turn in a ( ircjc of lit;ht; and every noAV and then iinim use
 
 THE PRADO. C-.-, 
 
 moths, attracted by the fire, flapped as^aiust our faces. Suddenly, I 
 saw somethinjjf whicli looked like a frying-pan pass directly beneath 
 my hari)oon ; I struck at it ■with all the force I could, and drew from 
 the water the finest skate possible. I was proclaimed king of the 
 .sport. As I attributed, within myself, this magnificent stroke more 
 to chance than skilfulness, I gave up my spear to the gentleman who 
 had. till then taken care of the fire, and betook myself to the study of 
 conehological manners. 
 
 They were interrupted by a decision of the ladies, Avho, on hearing 
 Méry's complaints, declared that the sea-air began to get too cold ; 
 consequently, it was decided that we should continue our excui'sion 
 on tlie Huvcaumc. 
 
 The Huvcaumc is a brook that falls into the sea, and takes advan- 
 tage of its topograpliieal situation to as.sun\e the name of a river; 
 but there are two sorts of greatness, as St. Simon said, and there 
 is no reason why the Huvcaumc, because it docs what the lilione 
 and the Danube do, should fancy itself their equal. After all, the 
 Huvcaumc has not, I think, such high pretensions. It is impossible 
 for a river to have a more modest mouth, or to fall more silently into 
 tlie Mediterranean. It is quite a pastoral river, such an one as Theo- 
 critus aiul Virgil loved — a river intended, not to carry boats, but io 
 bathe the feet of nymphs in. 
 
 We went up it, under the overhanging branches of the tamarind 
 trees, that grew, in fantastic shapes, on each side, Avithin reach of oui* 
 sculls, as they glided down the middle. I now saw that I had been 
 wrong to laugh at the Huvcaumc, before knowing it, for it runs with 
 such ease and silence, that it is a pleasure to look at it ; and I think 
 tiiat, after all, it is much more fortumite than the ]Mediterranean. 
 
 "Wlien we had explored it for half an hour the Huvcaumc refused 
 to take us further, under the pretext that it was no longer navigable ; 
 so wc were obliged to return back towards the sea, though we did 
 not attempt to approach it. From the noise it made against the 
 shore, we concluded that it was rising into a tempest. As to the 
 river, it was below all such human vicissitudes ; in consequence, it 
 allowed us quietly to put in at one of its sides, and to enter a pretty 
 orchard, through which wc reached the Phœnician House. 
 
 M. Morel, as he had promised, gave me the manuscript found by 
 his daughter in the old coffer, as the reader knows. He also granted 
 me ])ermission to copy it ; in consequence, I have the pleasure of 
 being able to present it to my readers. 
 
 I'crhaps, when on my return I have been refused five or six times 
 at the French Academy, this manuscript will procure me the honour 
 of being received at the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE MAISON PnENICIENNE. 
 
 "We have now reached tlie 12th of September 1524. Marseilles was 
 besieged by the Constable Bourbon, that illustrious madman, who 
 went about ravaging Europe for the purpose of relieving his ennui. 
 The trenches had been open twenty-one days. The noble lords of 
 Aix and tlie commoners of Marseilles had united under the same bas- 
 tions, and had sworn to defend them to the last, and bury themselves 
 under their ruins, rather than surrender. The constable pressed for- 
 ward his Italians, liis Spaniards, and his lasquencts upon the walls. 
 The tower of St. John, the breastwork of the Mills, and the tower of 
 St. Paul, commanded their batteries, and poured down sliowers of 
 bullets over the ramparts upon the hills of Lazaret ajid tlie Cannet 
 road, where the standard of the constable floated, and as far as the 
 foot of the abbey of St. Victor, where the Marquis de Pescaire had 
 pitched his camp. A violent September tempest broke out towards 
 the close of the day, and as night came on tlie darkness became so 
 intense, that the time seemed peculiarly favoiuable for adventures of 
 love or of war. 
 
 In consequence of this. Captain Cliarles do jMonteoux, at the head 
 of a hundred resolute citizens, marched to the Port Royal, at tlie foot 
 of the Rue do Fabres, with the intention of venturing a sortie upon 
 the gardens and flax-fields of Cannebirre. Two heroic women accom- 
 panied him : one was the wife and the other the niece of Cliarles do 
 I.aval ; they both carried richly ornamented pistols, and lield in their 
 delicate liands swords of sucli exquisite workmanship, that the}' had 
 more the appearance of trinkets than weapons. 
 
 The iK'siegers liad fled in disorder towards tlie Aubagno road, 
 wlien the S|)iinisli cavalry, which held ihat avenue, fell u])on the 
 Marseillais and ennipclled them to fall back upon the city. For 
 many of them, the retreat was unfortunately cut off; they arrived 
 nt the I'ort ]loyal too late; it was already closed, and the raised 
 drawbridge exposed to view a wide fosse full of water. Some of the 
 Marseillais were taken prisoners there, and the others, taking advan- 
 tîigc of the darkness, gained the open country. Among this nuraoer 
 were the voung Vietor Vivaux, son of the master of arfiller^ ar.d
 
 THE MAISON PHENICTENKE. 287 
 
 the two females of whom we have ah-cady spoken, GabricUe aud 
 Claire de LavaL Every kind of danger threatened them that night, 
 surrounded by that impious army which had slaughtered, desolated, 
 and dishonoured enough to merit the torments of hell, and which, 
 three years later, was destined to violate Rome in the midst of incen- 
 diarism and rivers of blood. 
 
 GabricUe, the wife of Charles de Laval, was about thirty-two years 
 of age. Taken by sm-prise at the challenge of Captain Charles de 
 Monteoux to accompany him in his adventure, she and her niece 
 accepted it, %vith that adventurous temerity of which the women of 
 ihat time have given so many examples ; being unwilling to detain 
 the commander of the expedition, she went dressed as she was, that 
 is to say, in a wide robe of silk, with a long train in all its folds, with 
 a close-fitting velvet corset on her shoulders, ending in a poiat below 
 the bosom. On the upper border of the corset rose a high and stiff 
 collar of lace, which exposed a beautiful swan-Hke neck. The coun- 
 tenance which gave life to this handsome form and dress had a very 
 i-emaikable expression : the smooth white forehead admirably formed, 
 the sweet expression which played iu her large, clear, black eyes, the 
 beautiful mouth, which, when she smiled resembled an opening rose, 
 formed a divine ensemble which had been bequeathed to Marseilles 
 by the sciUptors of Mitylène and Délos. A flowing crown of jet- 
 black hair adorned this fine head, and seemed in certain lights to 
 thi'ow off brilliant reflections, resembling tliose fiery tints, which in a 
 dark night are seen enveloped in the black and moving folds of the 
 sea waves. 
 
 The young girl who accompanied her, Claire de Laval, her ncice, 
 was not more than twenty. It might appear incredible that a female of 
 that age should dare to face the hazards of war, if we did not know that 
 at that unquiet time, when the lives of men and the honour of women 
 were so continually emperiUed, that the latter evinced in time of need 
 a character of energetic resolution. The history of Marseilles indeed 
 proves to the eternal honour of the fair sex, that they were at the 
 same time heroic. Claii-e de Laval, who was dressed in nearly the same 
 manner as her aunt, might have been taken for Gabrielle's sister. She 
 had blonde hair richly scattered over her temples and shoulders, beauti- 
 ful soft blue eyes, an admirable complexion vicing with the lily and the 
 rose, a striking and attractive expression of countenance, and a ma- 
 jestic grace in every movement of her body, as she tripped along with 
 a channing heedlessness, her little feet, in slippers gilt like tlie san- 
 dals of an odalisque ; when seated and thoughtful, she had that 
 exqmsite nonchalance peculiar to fair women, that radiant traa- 
 quiliry, which always reminds one of a volcano at rest.
 
 OvR TUE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Thcjr onlj' companion, Victoi- Vivaiix, was a tall and wcll-mndc 
 youujï man of about four and twenty, cclt^rated for his gallantry 
 iinion.y; the most amiable of the sercnadcrs of the Squai'e de Lenche ; 
 il free Marsellais of the middle ages, deeply coloured by the sun. 
 
 The two women, and the yoimg officer, wlio served as a guide for 
 them, pursued theii- way for some time at a rapid galloj) across the 
 country, in the same dii'cction that they had taken at first ; but the 
 ground soon became so much broken by hedges and ditches, that 
 tlicir horses wore not only useless, but inconvenient to them; and 
 moreover might betray them, in case they should neigh. The three 
 fugitives, therefore, abandoned their horses in a flax held, and con- 
 tinued their route on foot, witliout uttering a single word ; I'or on every 
 side tlie military sounds reminded them of tlie presence of the enemy. 
 At length the two ladies, after submissively i'ollowing tlu'ir guide 
 through rough and untrodden paths, reached the eminence wliich over- 
 looks the valley of Auriol ; tliere tliey turned tlieir backs upon the 
 citv, and passing through the windings and hollows, they came out 
 iijwn that sandy plain which runs in a curve from tlie white rocks to 
 Mount Kedon. 
 
 Every one knows that this coast exactly resembles tliat of a dc- 
 tjc-rt island : for the Marseillais being continually engaged in the 
 pursuits of war, they never thought of cultivating any other land 
 than that which was immediately under the ])rotcction of their ram- 
 2)arts. L'lluveaume forms at its moutli a delta of marshes, tlirough 
 llie middle of which it runs into the sea; along the banks of tlie river 
 arc scattered, at long distances ajjart, a few solitary fishennen's 
 cabins. At the extremity of a natural road of rock, often covered by 
 the waves, stood an isolated house in the midst of the stagnant 
 waters of a small stream, which seemed to protest against the solitude, 
 and to remind the sailors voyaging towards IMaiiiier of the ancient 
 times, when that shcn-e was visited by the galleys of Tyre and Sidon. 
 
 J5y the time the fugitives had reached this spot the sea was quite 
 calm, notwithstanding the storm. Victor Vivaux was the first to leap 
 upon the ledge of the rook, with the aid of the branches of a witli- 
 < red taiiiarind tree, and listening to the nocturnal noises, co\ild not 
 «listinguish anything m«»re than the nistiing of the willov.s and 
 reeds, and the roaring of the tempest, while towards the north a dull, 
 rumbling hound, proceeding most likely from the guns of St. Paul, 
 piayi'd a duet witli tlie thunder of heaven. 
 
 lie then stoojjed down, and gave his hiind t(- (iabiiclli', wlio, 
 with his Iielp, found herself in a minute l)y iiis side on th.c rock ; then 
 to Claire, for whom one might have ol)served that the young mar. 
 evinced a very particular degree of attention, when lie saw the two
 
 TIIE MAISON PHENICIENNE. 2«9 
 
 ladies safely above, looking on the one side towards the sea, ami ou 
 tlie other across the marches, he cxelaimed, breathing more treeh', — 
 " Now, ladies, I will permit you to speak ; ibr we arc now in a place 
 of safety : there ai'e neither soldiers nor marauders near us." 
 
 " For my own part," said Gabriellc, with a burst of laughter, " 1 
 shall never pardon ^Monsieur le Constable for haAang shut my mouth 
 for two mortal hom's, that I have not so much as been able to addi-ess 
 a comi)liment to the storm, which, however, as far as I was able to 
 observe it, has appeared to me very grand." 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " cried Claire, " what sort of country have we 
 
 come to ? Arc we upon the land or the sea ?" 
 
 " Do not fear. Mademoiselle," said Victor ; " I know this place." 
 
 " You know this barbarous desert, Monsiem- do Vi^•aux ?" 
 
 " Look here. Mesdames ; sec amongst those tamarinds there is a 
 house which I know as well as my own." 
 
 " We have been there a hundred times with M. de Beauregard, the 
 captain of the tower of St. Jean." 
 
 " Eh ! what took you there, messieurs ?" said Gabriellc, accom- 
 panying the question with a tone of raillery, while Claire regarded 
 the young man with some uneasiness. 
 
 He understood this look, and answered, smiling and addressing 
 both the ladies, although only one had questioned him. 
 
 " Wc went for a very simple purpose, mesdames. That little house 
 Dclongs to M. de Beaui-egard, and there is no doubt that it will affoid 
 us shelter for the night." 
 
 " Suppose the door should be fastened ?" demanded GabricUe. 
 
 " Then we must break it open," answered Victor. 
 
 ♦' Oh!" murmm-ed Claire, to Avhom this way of introducing one's 
 sell appeared, besides the danger, a little extiaordinary. 
 
 "May the Holy Virgin protect us," said GabricUe; "I fancy I 
 see a shadow of something above there, to the Icit." 
 
 And with the point of her sword, which she had not yet replaced 
 in its scabbard, she pointed towards the hills to the north. 
 
 Thcii- eyes were fixed in that direction, and tliere ^^•as a moment 
 of silence. 
 
 "Hush!" said Claii-c, starting. 
 
 " "What is it ?" demanded Victor, as he placed himself instinctively 
 in fi-ont of her. 
 
 " I hear a noise," replied Claire. 
 
 " ^^'here ?" asked Victor, in a whisper. 
 
 " There, there, quite close to us ; among those black v/ccds," an- 
 swered Clah'c, so low that Victor was obliged to bring his cl:etk so 
 near the lips of the young girl, that he felt her warm breath. 
 
 T
 
 £'.tO THE SOUTU OF FUANCE. 
 
 " It is cither the sea or tlie Aviud," said he, after listening- for ti 
 moment. " The danger is not there ; it is there," adilcd he in a low 
 voice, in his tiu-n pointing towards the Huvcaume. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed," said Clare, seizing the ai"m of the young man. 
 •' Look ! there, there ; before us !" 
 
 Victor tiunied in the direction she pointed, and there indeed he 
 perceived a tall black figure, rising from among the banks of the IIii- 
 vcaumc, and advancing towards the spot where they stood. 
 
 " Silence!" said Victor. 
 
 And he allowed the apparition to pass along the narrow path, 
 until it was within a few steps of him, then rushed forv.ard, sword 
 in hand, whilst the two females prepared themselves, if needful, to 
 render assistance to tlieir defender. 
 
 "Who are you? What do you want?" demanded the young 
 man, pressing his sword against the breast of the stranger, who in- 
 stead of defending himself, fell humbly upon his knees. 
 
 " Oh ! Monsieur le Mar^;eillais!" answered the good man, who had 
 recognised liis countryman in Victor's accent. 
 
 " .\h ! ah !" said Victor, who had made the same discovery ; " it is 
 possible that we are not enemies, but no matter. AVlicn people meet 
 at such times as these, and under such circumstances at this hoiu', 
 there must be an explanation. I therefore repeat my question — \\'iio 
 are you ? AVhat do you want ?" 
 
 " I am the stcwai'd, Bousciuie, the fisherman of "M. Beam-egard." 
 
 " Eh ! pardicu ; it is true," said Victor. " Mesdames," added he, 
 turning to them, " you have nothing to fear. Wc ai*e where wc shall 
 be known." 
 
 " lleally! it is monsieur !" exclaimed the fisliermaii. witli a lioarso 
 laugli, "and I did not know him. Good evening, Monsieur \ictor." 
 
 " Good evening, my friend." 
 
 "Ah, bien! what a wonder to see you, when I thought you were 
 behind the walls of the town. Is il possible this is another party 
 like 
 
 " Hush !" said Victor. 
 
 " Ah ! if it i.s so, the time is oddly chosen." 
 
 "You said just now that you were going 1o fish," intirrujited 
 hastily tiio young man, to wliom the turn wliich tin- conversation 
 liad taken, ajJjK'ared evidently disagreeable, and wlio v.isbcd fo 
 change it. 
 
 "Alas! yes, I am going to fisli," answercil tlie stcv. anl rmustpiie, 
 with a lieavy sigh. 
 
 "How now! what is (lie matter?" demanded Victor. "1 have 
 known t])o time wluii that occui)ation was a pleasure to you."
 
 THE MAISON PHENICIENNE. 2$l 
 
 " Oh ! ycs, when I ^vfls fishing for M. de Bcaurcjjard, or, hidccd, 
 for you, when you came with that Httle " 
 
 " And for whom do you fish now ?" 
 
 " Who do I fish for? The black madonna ! I fisli for tliosc beg- 
 garly Italians, wlio come and cat my fish, and who pay with blow» 
 of their halberds." 
 
 " "What ! do the Italians come here ? " cried Victor. 
 
 " Do they come ? They never miss a night without coming; iiî 
 an hour they will be here. Stay, do not talk about them. Monsieur 
 Victor, they are perfect Turks, corsah's, Saracens, who seek for nothinjj 
 but women and good ohccr. They have with them two Germans; 
 they are no conjurors, but they arc not the better for that ; come 
 along ! " 
 
 " Very well ; v/e have gossipped long enough," said Victor; " good 
 steward Bousquic, you see these ladies have need of repose. They 
 have left the soles of their boots on the rocks, and have wounded their 
 pretty feet. Have you a good bed for these two dames?" 
 
 •' Oh ! in my cabin," answered steward Bousquic, " the ladies 
 would be very uncomfortable ; it would only do at the best for the 
 little girls." 
 
 "Ah, just so; but then," said Victor, inten-upting him, "where 
 ai-e those ladies to pass the night ?" 
 
 " If the sea was not so rough, I should say that they would be 
 better otf at their own house. We will get into my boat, and as 
 tl;c sea is free, since the fleet of La Fayette has di'iven away that 
 
 d d Moncade ; I will engage to carry them in an hour to the 
 
 mouth of the harbour." 
 
 " Verj' well," said Gabriclle ; " that appears to mc a capital plan- 
 Let us get into the boat ; we are courageous, and not at all afraid." 
 
 " Oh, no, madame, no !" said steward Bousquic, shaking his head; 
 " no, that would be tempting God." 
 
 " But the sea is not so much troubled now," mm-mured Claire. 
 
 "Xot hero certainly; but the sea, mademoiselle, is just like the 
 women ; one must not judge from appearances. Here it is tranquil 
 enough, but below there, do you see, off those rocks, where it is not 
 sheltered by anything, it is playing the devil, No, no, Monsieur 
 Victor, believe me, we must wait until it is calmer. 
 
 " But where shall avc wait, since you say that your house offers 
 us no safety ?" 
 
 " Follow me," said steward Bousquic ; " I will let you into the 
 house of M. Beauregard ; you will be more comfortable there than 
 in mine. If the Italians should come, go up as fast as they do into the 
 garret, where vou ^^•ill find a ladder and a trap door. You can got 
 
 t2
 
 202 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE, 
 
 OU to the roof, and then di-aw up the ladder, and if they should pur 
 sue you as far as that, you will even then have a last chance, which 
 is, to throw yourselves from the top of the house, if you ai'c deter- 
 mined not to be taken." 
 
 '• Let us go, then," said Victor Vivaux. 
 
 T!ie fisherman led the way, and the three fugitives followed him 
 in silence, and after a few minutes they passed in front of an arbour of 
 marine plants, and ascended a fiight of steps; stewai'd Bousquic 
 pushed against a door which opened easily. 
 
 " The deuce ! " said ^'ictor ; if the door will not close better than 
 that, you had better lead us somewhere else." 
 
 " We can bamcadc it inside," said Gabriello. 
 
 " Be careful, ma belle dame," answered the fisherman ;" that Avould 
 betray you at once. No, no ; they arc accustomed to find the door 
 open, leave it so, they will not perceive any différence, luid perhaps 
 they may not suspect anytliing. Trust to me, and do as I tell you." 
 
 •• 1 )o you think then that they will come ?" intpiii-ed Clau-e, timidly. 
 
 '• It is possible they may come, and it is possible they may not 
 Those rascally Italians are as luicertain as porpoises ; one cannot be 
 sure of them. In any case, I will endeavour to provide a supper 
 good enough to keep them from the house." 
 
 " And here is something to pay for the supper that you give them," 
 said ^"ictor, slipping two pieces of gold into the hand of steward 
 Bousquie. 
 
 " Ah ! I have no need of that, Monsieur ^'ietor, ibr it would take 
 away the pleasure of obliging you for tlie love of lieaven. However, 
 I will not refuse it, for that would not be civil." 
 
 '■ Well then, put it in your pocket, and keep a good watch." 
 
 "Yes, ye»! but be sure you do not shut the door; do you hear?" 
 
 " That in settled ; do not fear." 
 
 "Then, good fortune! Apropos, mesdames," replied the steward, 
 
 retracing his steps; if you luive any little prayer of good cfl'et t- 
 
 I do not intcTid to allow myself to give you advice ; but you under- 
 stand, it would not be out of jilace to say it." 
 
 Tlien, us if I'rightened at his boldness, steward ISousquie made a 
 parting sign with his head and liis hand, and disappeared «inieUIy. 
 
 Thus left alone, Vict(U' and his two conij)anions guided tluiuselves 
 by their Iiands, for in tluit lov/ room tlicir eyes were of nou.se; to 
 have any kind of light whatever would liave detected them. Tluy 
 wire obliged tin refore to find out wliere they were by groping about. 
 
 While he was seim:hing, VicNir heard in the silence the beating of 
 tile hearts of his companions, and fancied he could recognise lliut of 
 CI:,;,. ■«. A I liut I... Cound tlie ladder.
 
 THE MAISC-N I'llEMCIEXNE. 093 
 
 " This ■vvay," said ho. Tlio two women rallied at tho sound of his 
 voice. Victor put out his hand and seized a tremblinj^ hand. It was 
 so from tcn-or, no douht. Victor himself had no need to ask to whom 
 it bclonj^cd. 
 
 " Follow us, madame," said he, turning liimsclf to the side where 
 he thoug-ht Gabriolle was ; " we are at the foot of the ladder."' 
 
 " Go on, then," said Madame dc Laval ; " I have hold of Claire's 
 di'ess." 
 
 " "^Miat are you looking for, aunt ?" asked the young gii-1. 
 
 " Nothing : my handlverchief, which I have dropped." 
 
 " I will go down presently, and fetch it for you," said Victor. 
 
 All the three ascended the dark and narrow staircase, which led 
 to the upper floors ; then they felt about for the door of a room, and 
 entered the first one they came to, with the intention of looking 
 whether the sea had become calm. They could not observe how the 
 furniture suited them, for the walls were bm-icd in obscurity ; but 
 they were pleased to find under their hands something pliant or 
 stuffed, which seemed like the wadding of a cushion. 
 
 " Victor," said Gabriolle, " if you will go down, we will endeavour 
 to rest om-selves a while." 
 
 " You will keep watch over us, will you not ? " said Claire. 
 
 " Oh ! as I would over myself, mademoiselle," an.swered Victor. 
 " I am answerable for you ; and no sentiy can be more faithful to his 
 post than I will be." 
 
 " And try to find my handkercliicf, which might betray us, jjcr- 
 haps." 
 
 "I will," answered Victor; and they hoard him descend the stair- 
 case." 
 
 The young man looked about for a quarter of an hour but could 
 not find it. 
 
 During this time the two ladies put off their dresses, which they 
 could not possibly sleep in. 
 
 " Imagine, aunt," -said Claii'e, " in what anxiety ]SI. de Laval 
 must be at this time ? " 
 
 "Pooh!" answered Gabriolle; "these are the accidents of war. 
 M. de Laval supposes we are dead ; but as he is on guard at the tower 
 of St. Paul, he has no time to #ioui-n for us. I very much wish I 
 had a looking-glass." 
 
 " A looking-glass, aunt ! for what ?" 
 
 " To re-arrange my hah- ; which must be in an abominable state." 
 
 " But if you had one, aunt, it would be of very little use, in the 
 darkness we arc in." 
 
 " Pooh ! by opening that window, om* moon is so fi];e, we should
 
 294 THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 qi'C as well as if it were full day. Push the shutter a little on cue side, 
 t'lairc." 
 
 " Oh, aunt ! that is very imprudent." 
 
 ' No, no ! only to see if all is quiet." 
 
 Claire obeyed ; and a ray of moonlight illuminated the room, dis- 
 playing the beautiful head of the young girl standing near the window. 
 One might have taken her for Amphitrite, the fair queen of ocean, 
 who cast a tender glance on the wild beauties of her domain. 
 
 ])uring this tunc, Gabriellc, having found what she required; and 
 placing hci-self a little behind Claire, but in the same light, she re- 
 adjusted her hail-." 
 
 " There, it is done," said she, after a few minutes ; now let us lie 
 down on the couch. We will recite the litany to the Virgin, and the 
 suh tiiiini, before we go to sleep. I will repeat tlic verses, and you the 
 response ora pro nobis. Are you coming ? " ^ 
 
 " Yes, aunt, yes," .said Chiire, drawing herself a little back, witli- 
 »ut however k aving the window ; " but there is something seems to 
 Bie 
 
 " What do you fancy?" asked (îabrielle. 
 
 " There are some men approaching along the same road by which 
 wc came here. I hear them, aunt ; I licar them." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Gabriellc : it is the wind M-hich is shaldng the 
 tamarinds." 
 
 '• No, aunt ; look there. 1 can see them: there arc five — si.\ — 
 seven 
 
 '• Gabriellc made a spring from tlie couch where she had laid down 
 towards the window ; and resting her hands uj)»!! the shoulilers ol" 
 Claire, raised herself on ti])-toe, and looked over her head. 
 
 " ])o you see ?" .said Claire, liolding her breath. 
 
 " Yes. I see tlicm." 
 
 Tlie men exchanged a few words among themselves. 
 
 " Those are the Italians," said (îabrielle. 
 
 "Oil, my God! my (îod ! we are lost !" murmured Claire, clasp- 
 ing lier hands. 
 
 Tliree gentle knocks at flic door of the room startled the two 
 «•omen fur tlic minute. Then tiiey heard a voice say : " It is me; do 
 not be ufrai<l. It is Victor Vivaux." • 
 
 (iahriellr- ran to the door, and upened it. 
 
 " Wliat is the matfir?" said she. 
 
 *' Till J are ujum us." 
 
 " 'I'he enemy ? " 
 
 " I am afraid it is.'' 
 
 " ^\"hut is to be done P"
 
 niE MAISON rilKNICIENNE. SO:} 
 
 " Follow the advice of steward Bousquie. Go up higher, loolc for 
 a p^ood hiding-place, and do not make yourself uneasy about mc. 
 However far I may be otl", I will not lose sight of you." 
 
 And without waiting an answer from tliem. he retired in the 
 darkness of the staii-. 
 
 " Claire ? " said Gabrielle. 
 
 " Here am I, aunt." 
 
 " Come, and" 
 
 "With these words she took her hand, and hurried her away out 
 of the room. 
 
 Tliey reached the floor above, where they rested and listened, wiîli 
 their necks ttrctched over the balustrade of plaster which turned 
 round with the stairs. 
 
 Outside, between the arbour and the steps, two men, who ap 
 peared to be the chiefs of a band of robbers, were talking loudly 
 without any restraint, in a way to be heard all round in the silence 
 of the night. 
 
 " I tell you, Taddeo," said one, " that I saw them pass like sha- 
 dows, that I have measured their footmarks on the sand. They are a 
 little longer than my finger, and as slender as my tongue. And then 
 what do you say to those pieces of slippers which we found on the 
 hills?" 
 
 " I begin to believe you have some reason," answered the other. 
 
 '• Per JBacco .' I believe indeed I have some reason ; you see we lost 
 tlicir track about twcntj' steps fi-om here below there, where the 
 paving commences. If the goddesses are not taking a bath in that 
 
 marsh, they are sleei^ing behind that door. Good ! where is my 
 
 lansquenet? Here, Cornelius, come forward. But come at once. 
 What the devil are you doing, rascal, gaping at the stars ? Listen ; 
 go under that arch, my good Todesque, and watch the house on the 
 other side to cut off the retreat, and by St. Peter, my pretty ladies, 
 you shall not escape us." 
 
 " ^Miat is this ?" said Taddeo, picking up the handkerchief wliich 
 Gabrielle had dropped at the foot of the stone steps, and not as she 
 thought in the vestibule. 
 
 " Vire DicK, comrade!" answered Geronimo, taking the hand of 
 his companion, •' it is a handkerchief, laced and perfumed witli essence 
 of rose ; this does not appear to me to have come out of the pocket of 
 a fisherman ; they do not catch fish with such a net as this." 
 
 " Let us go up ; Geronimo ; let us go up. And you, comrades, 
 zsit ! zsit! The rest of the band drew near. "Come, and wait there. 
 Good! Now behave yourselves well, and you shall kiss the ladies' 
 maid, if there is one."
 
 2SC THE SOUTU OF FPaNCE. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Î10 ! let us all go together ; no preference here, we arc 
 all equal ; an.i besides, the more there arc of us the better we shall 
 search. Eh ! my lansquenet ?" 
 
 " Forster, Forster ! Here, do you keep watch on these stops, with 
 your dagger in your hand. These women have a ca\"nlier with them 
 for we saw his footsteps on the sand. Every care for the women, 
 and a leaden ball for him : do you hear, my little German ? That is 
 your business." 
 
 " la mein herr" answered the lansquenet, while taking his stand 
 on the steps in the place which his captain had pointed out. 
 
 Geronirao then opened the door, which as the steward Bousquio 
 had advised, was not closed. 
 
 " One can't see here any better than in an oven," said one of the 
 Italians. " Have you got your steel, Taddeo ?" 
 
 " Do I ever march without it ?" answered the soldier. At the 
 same moment he struck a light, the tinder caught, and the feeble 
 light of a match succeeded, but it was enough to enable Geronimo to 
 tind a lantern hanging in a corner of the vestibule. 
 
 " That is what we want," said he ; " there is a Providence to pro- 
 vide for honest people. Light it ! light it ." 
 
 Taddeo did not require to be told a second time. The Italians held 
 up th.e lantern, which threw a light over the vestibule, but they did 
 not perceive anytliing more than diScrent kinds of fishing nets hung 
 round the walls. 
 
 " Those arc the nets of om* foster father," said Taddeo, " we must 
 not touch them." 
 
 "There is a scandal," answered Geronimo. "There are i)eo])le, 
 liowever, who say tliat we do not respect anything : they are back- 
 biters." 
 
 " .M3' friend, do not touch anything ; you know that Bourbon docs 
 not make free witli his neighbour's property." 
 
 *' Are women property ?" asked Taddeo. 
 
 "The regulations do not mention anything Ijut the crops, furni- 
 ture, ami cattle ; you see they liave notliing to do with women." 
 
 "Now, then, let us go up to the lirsl Hoor," said 'i'uddeo ; "you 
 KCO very well there is nothing to be done here." 
 
 The band followed his advice, and entered tiio chamber, which the 
 two women liad just left. 
 
 "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Geronimo, "the bird is flown, but the 
 ♦cathersare licre. Two princesses' robes, the deuce. If 1 were car- 
 dinal I would have a daiinatiquo of this stuff. My good fellow, look 
 nt this velvet, and tell me what tlioy must bo who wore it. Oil ! if 
 I could only catch them ! Tlic blood rises in my throat."
 
 THE MAISON PHENICIENNE. 297 
 
 " Let US take these, however," said Taddeo ; " the things arc of 
 value." 
 
 " And see, there are two purses : gold ! That is for iis as 
 much as Marseilles is for the constable. To-morrow we will di- 
 vide it." 
 
 "Qcronimo, the. bed is not disordc?-ed ; our beauties have only put 
 off their dresses, and slipped away again. Feel the bed ; it is as 
 smootli and cold as marble." 
 
 " Search ! search !" cried Gcroninio ; " wc will find them in spite 
 of the devil himself." 
 
 With these words he ran up the stairs. GabricUo and Claire liad 
 not lost a single word of tliis horrible conversation. On hearing tlic 
 last words they experienced a mutual terror, and their hair stood on 
 end. But' they had no time to lose, and rushing towards the corner 
 where was the little wooden ladder, wliich led to the trap door in 
 the roof, climbed up it, lifted up the trap, got out on the roof, drew 
 up the ladder after them, and closed the trap-door again. Tlie roof 
 was sorrounded by a low parapet, with the exception of one place in 
 the middle, where it had a gentle inclination to carry off the rain. 
 The two females crouched down into a corner. 
 
 After a few moments a great noise of voices, which sounded under 
 their feet, told them that the gang had entered the chamber where 
 the ladder was, and that their destiny must soon be decided. The 
 two noble women restrained themselves from speaking, kissed each 
 other tenderly, and with their arms round each other, and looking 
 towards heaven, advanced rapidly nearly to the edge of the projecting 
 tiles, some of Avliich fell down. They fixed their eyes on the trap- 
 door, and expected to see it raised. At that instant, and in tliat ex- 
 treme case, they had resolved to throw themselves down from the 
 roof on to the pavement below. They were long in suspense. The 
 ■*iles cracked under their feet, and more than once by a convul- 
 sive action of the nerves they felt themselves, as it were, urged 
 towards the precipice by an invisible hand. Standing thus im- 
 movably over their tomb, they resembled the statues of Modesty 
 and Despair, raised above the ruins of a town that had been taken 
 by assault. 
 
 By degrees, howevei', the noise of the voices below decreased, 
 and the stairs creaked under heavj- footsteps ; a ray of hope passed 
 across the faces of the two women, who raised their eyes to heaven, 
 Avith an expression of infinite gratitude : theji Gabrielle raised (he 
 trap-door cautiously, and distinctly heard the men express their dis- 
 appointment. They followed the sounds as far as tlie door, which 
 was reclosed. Soon after a light step soundud on the stairs, and
 
 3*> xUE SOUTH OF FKANCE. 
 
 they heard an agitated voice calling from the other side of the par- 
 tition. It was that of Victor Vivaux. The trap-door was opened, 
 the ladder replaced; Victor uttered a cry of joy, and set his foot on 
 the fii-st step. 
 
 " We ai-e here, Victor," said Gabrielle, very softly. 
 
 " Come along then, come quickly," answered Victor. " A minute 
 lost would be death to us." 
 
 The two females descended the ladder with suqirising activity, 
 but when they reached the vestibule they heard the soldiers, who tliey 
 liad fancied were already far away, which made them stop suddenly. 
 ^"ictor pushed them under the large heap of nets which hung against 
 the wall, and covering himself over with them, lent an attentive ear 
 to all that passed, for a word misunderstood might have caused tlic 
 death of all three. 
 
 " "Well, captain," said Forster, " has the se:u-ch been fruitless ? " 
 
 " Alas ! yes," answered Geronimo. 
 
 " But have you searched well everywhere ?" 
 
 " We have not left a stone without smelling ii." 
 
 " .\nd you saw nothing either ?" 
 
 '• Xothing." 
 
 " Go down ; I release you from your post." 
 
 " Thank you," said Forster, jumping heavily on the ground; '• 1 
 a:;i not sorry for it, for it was not a very pleasant one." 
 
 '• What do you say ?" 
 
 " I say, captain, that when you amuse yourself by walking on t'.ie 
 tiles I hope you will put me on guard somewhere else than under 
 the gutter." 
 
 " And why so ?" 
 
 " Because when it rains tiles, and one has no umbrella, it is not 
 agreeable.' 
 
 " Wiiat ! a tile fell on your head, did yon say?" 
 
 *' One ? rat lier half a dozen ; but 1 remained at my jiost; — the\\hole 
 roof might have fallen, and I would not have bmlgid." 
 
 " My friends," cried (ieronimo, " they are on t lie roof. Lansque- 
 net my good fellow, if what you say is true, I will give you sLx pieces 
 of gold." 
 
 "Tlie roof! the roof." cried all the soldiers. 
 
 " Come along comrades, wc are on tlie right scent now !" exclaimed 
 (ieronimo, " Cornelius Foreter, come — come along, and Imnt like good 
 liounds, HH you are." 
 
 And tlie band, full of fresh liope, re-entered tlu- vestibule, and 
 nished towards tlie stairs. The fugitives listened until tlie sound of 
 the lieavy sfejjs of f lie two Germans, who were behind liad ceased. 
 
 /; . // ^
 
 THE JIAISOX PHENICIENNE. 2W 
 
 " And now," said Victor Vivaux, " there is not a minute to be lost ; 
 with presence of mind and courage \ve may be saved." And, s^n-ing- 
 ing out from under the nets, he took the females by the hand, and 
 went rapidly out of the house with them. All the soldiers were on 
 the roof. 
 
 "Captain! Captain!" cried Forster, "look, there tliey go — see, 
 see, there, there, there — take care — the devil !" 
 
 A loud and terrible crj-, one of those cries of death Avhich 
 pierce the air when the soul perceives it is to be violently parted 
 from the body, followed this exclamation. The three fugitives 
 were fixed to the s])ot where they stood ; they saw a hand pass by 
 them in the air, and heard the sound of some body crushing on the 
 pavement. 
 
 " It is the captain," said Vivaux, in a voice trembling with hoiTor, 
 " he must have gone too ncai" the edge, and the roof have given way 
 under his feet." 
 
 "Captain! captain !" exclaimed several voices. i>ut no one an- 
 swered, not even another cry or groan. 
 
 " He is dead," said Vivaux, " God have mercy on nis soul ! I.ct 
 us look to ourselves." And, taking the ladies by the hand, he ran 
 with them towards the water's edge. A boat was near the bank, 
 wliich they approached ; although it was still dark, the night ■v\ as 
 more calm. 
 
 " Push the boat out to sea," said Victor, " God has not saved us 
 so miraculously, to forsake us at the last moment." 
 
 " Is that you, Monsiciu' Victor ?" said a voice which issued from 
 the boat, while a head was seen to rise a little above the taffrail of 
 the vessel. 
 
 " ^^'e are saved," said Victor, " it is steward Eousquie." 
 
 " And the sea?" said Gabrielle inquiringly. 
 
 " As smooth as milk," said lioiisquie, there is just wind enough to 
 cover the noise of the oiu's. Jump in. Jump in." 
 
 '• Jump in ladies, said Victor." 
 
 The women entered the vessel, steward Eousquie went behind 
 tnem, and pushed off the boat into the sea. Victor had already taken 
 the oars. 
 
 "No oars! no oai's!" said Eousquie, " they will make a noise. 
 Hoist the sail, and may God protect us ! "Wlierc do you wish to go, 
 Monsieur Victor? 
 
 " Straight to the mouth of the harbour, to the tower of St. 
 John." 
 
 " Good, good," said Eousquie. " Take the helm. ^Vhen I say
 
 300 THE SOUTH OF FRAXCE. 
 
 starboard, you tiiru it to the left ; when I say larboard, turn it to the 
 right. Do you hear ? "' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then let us go!" 
 
 And the vessel, as if it had waited for permission from its inasU-r, 
 glided gently along the water. Stewai'd Bousquie had conjectured 
 rightly ; the wind Avas fovourable for them. The little sail, as dark 
 as the waves, and invisible in the gloom, filled well. After about half 
 an hour, the little vessel reached the quay ; and Victor made himself 
 known to the sentry of the battery level with the water. 
 
 At that moment, a solemn silence reigned over the besieged city. 
 Tlie sentinels were keeping their solitaiy watcli on the ramparts ; and 
 the two annics were resting beneath their tents, after the fatigues of 
 the watch, and gathering from sleep fresh strengtli for the battle of 
 the morrow." 
 
 On the thirty-ninth day of the siege, Marseilles was a town of 
 anguish, for a large breach had been opened from the foot of the 
 tower of St. Paul, almost as far as the first arch of the aqueduct 
 of Porte d'Aix. The Constable de Eourbon was arranging the last 
 and most fomiidable of his assaults. 
 
 It seemed as if notliiiig but a miracle could have saved Marseilles; 
 for its defenders, exhausted by a protracted resistance, sought to lind 
 some powerful aid, which might enable tliem, by a great eflbrt, to 
 repel his attack, even in theii- feeble state. It was tben that there 
 a[)peared in the midst of the burning and falling bastions, n new army 
 coming to the aid of the town — an anny of women ! Oabrielle do 
 I.aval commanded these motleni amajKons, and Claire her neice carried 
 the banner of the new Tliermodon. .\t tliis sight the besieged raised 
 a shout of reanimation, whicli struck terror into the Spaniards and 
 lansquenets on tlie heights of Lazaret and of St. Victor ; and after- 
 wards, when tlie assault was made, the constable found tlie whole 
 town in tlie breach : youtlis, women, and old men, a living rampart, 
 covered the niins of tlie bastions; and Marseilles cried victoriously 
 to her enemies, as God to the sea: " Thou sluilt come no farther." 
 
 Five dnj-H after this, the mairiage of Victor Vivaux and Claire do 
 l.aval wa.s celebrated at the Maison Phénicienne. Steward Houstjuie 
 did not i-equiro any other reword than an invitation to the wedding. 
 Ah for M. Heauregord, he swore never to touch a single stone of the 
 ancient house, and (o becjiicafh it to his children, with it»; verni» sccu- 
 liilrr, its double roof, il.s flight of Hte])s, its vine arbours- just, in short, 
 as it Hfood in the midst of the reeils, ils a miraculous refuge, which wa» 
 a means of «.iviiig two heroic women in a most tt.'rrible night.
 
 THE MAISON PIIENICIENM;. 301 
 
 It might have seemed as if all that had passed had been only a 
 dream, had there not remained in the middle of the front roof a little 
 ])lace Avhere the tiles had given way under the feet of Captain 
 Geronimo. 
 
 Now, if our opinion is required as to the authenticity of this docu- 
 ment, through Avhioh the IMaison Phénicienne was saved from the 
 destruction ^^ hich threatened it, we confess that we strongly suspect 
 our friend Mi'ry of being its author, and of having concealed it, with 
 a pious deceit, in M. INIorel's residence. 
 
 lU.Nr.K VKClItLLY, llilNfin AM» t-NCill.'.TEl;, OCVOU EQVAEE, ITLEiT SIESET.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 ■* MfiY 121988 
 JUL l"-^ 1989 
 
 315 
 
 
 icAurri rr
 
 
 
 lAIlW^ 
 
 t 
 
 £1" :i=^ 
 
 nn.A\\' '^(^Aavjiaii^^'^^ 
 
 5 u2^ "3 7y'^'^'''''oo65Ï'''9l''76 
 
 ÀA 001259107 9 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 O u_ 
 
 "^/saîAiN 
 
 IJI 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 \ 
 
 ^.ÏOJIIVDJO-^' ^OJIIVDJO"^ 
 
 
 iifêi 
 
 ^•CALiFO/?^ 
 
 Ô 
 
 >- 
 
 ilBRAHYO/ 
 
 i^ 
 
 I S 
 
 ^<ïojnvjjo^ 
 
 
 ilJONVSOl^ 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
 lU 
 
 v!^ 
 
 y 
 
 f^CAllFOfi»^ 
 
 ?7 
 
 M^ 
 
 
 >- 
 
 ce 
 < 
 
 oc 
 
 7130NYS01^. "^/iajAINlV'' 
 
 IIBRARY^ 
 
 S a,-