Chapter III: Au Revoir.--The Pilgrim’s Progress (3)

On the other side of the Garonne, towards the plain of Layrac, we come to the old Château of Estillac, associated with the memory of Blaise de Monluc, the terrible avenger of Huguenot atrocities in this section of France. He was an off-shoot of the noble family of Montesquiou, and served under Bayard, Lautrec, and Francis I.--a small, thin, bilious-looking man, with an eye as cold and hard as steel, and a face horribly disfigured in battle, before whom all parties quailed, Catholic as well as Protestant. He had the zeal of a Spaniard and the bravado of a true Gascon; was sober in his habits, uncompromising in his nature, and, living in his saddle, with rapier in hand, he was always ready for any emergency, to strike any blow; faithful to his motto: “_Deo duce, ferro comite_.”

We are far from justifying the relentless rigor of Monluc; but one cannot travel through this country, where at every step is some trace of the fury with which the Huguenots destroyed or desecrated everything Catholics regard as holy, without finding much to extenuate his course. We must not forget that the butchery which filled the trenches of the Château de Penne was preceded by the sack of Lauzerte, where, according to Protestant records, Duras slaughtered five hundred and sixty-seven Catholics, of whom one hundred and ninety-four were priests; and that the frightful massacre of Terraube was provoked by the treachery of Bremond, commander of the Huguenots at the siege of Lectoure.

Among the other remarkable men upon whose traces we here come is Sulpicius Severus, a native of Agen. His friend, S. Paulinus of Nola, tells us he had a brilliant position in the world, and was universally applauded for his eloquence; but converted in the very flower of his life, he severed all human ties and retired into solitude. He is said to have founded the first monastery in Aquitaine, supposed to be that of S. Sever-Rustan, where he gave himself up to literary labors that have perpetuated his name. The Huguenots burned down this interesting monument of the past in 1573, and massacred all the monks. It was from the cloister of Primulacium, as it was then called, that successively issued his _Ecclesiastical History_, which won for him the title of the Christian Sallust; the _Life of S. Martin of Tours_, written from personal recollections; and three interesting _Dialogues on the Monastic Life_, all of which were submitted to the indulgent criticism of S. Paulinus before they were given to the public. The intimacy of these two great men probably began when S. Paulinus lived in his villa Hebromagus, on the banks of the Baïse, and it was by no means broken off by their separation. The latter made every effort to induce his friend to join him at Nola; but we have no reason to complain he did not succeed, for this led to a delightful correspondence we should be sorry to have lost. We give one specimen of it, in which modesty is at swords’ points with friendship. Sulpicius had built a church at Primulacium, and called upon his poet-friend to supply him with inscriptions for the walls. The baptistery contained the portrait of S. Martin, and, wishing to add that of Paulinus, he ventured to ask him for it. Paulinus’ humility is alarmed, and he flatly refuses; but he soon learns his likeness has been painted from memory, and is hanging next that of the holy Bishop of Tours. He loudly protests, but that is all he can do, except avenge his outraged humility by sending the following inscription to be graven beneath the two portraits: “You, whose bodies and souls are purified in this salutary bath, cast your eyes on the two models set before you. Sinners, behold Paulinus; ye just, look at Martin. Martin is the model of saints; Paulinus only that of the guilty!”

Sometimes there is a dash of pleasantry in their correspondence, as when Paulinus sends for some good Gascon qualified to be a cook in his _laura_. Sulpicius despatches Brother Victor with a letter of recommendation which perhaps brought a smile to his friend’s face: “I have just learned that every cook has taken flight from your kitchen. I send you a young man trained in our school, sufficiently accomplished to serve up the humbler vegetables with sauce and vinegar, and concoct a modest stew that may tempt the palates of hungry cenobites; but I must confess he is entirely ignorant of the use of spices and all luxurious condiments, and it is only right I should warn you of one great fault: he is the mortal enemy of a garden. If you be not careful, he will make a frightful havoc among all the vegetables he can lay his hands on. He may seldom call on you for wood, but he will burn whatever comes within his reach. He will even lay hold of your rafters, and tear the old joists from your chimneys.”

Among other Agen literary celebrities is the poet Antoine de La Pujade, who was secretary of finances to Queen Margaret of Navarre--not the accomplished, fascinating sister of Francis I., but the wife of the _Vert-Galant_, “_Du tige des Valois belle et royale fleur_,” who encouraged and applauded the poet, and even addressed him flattering verses. His tender, caressing lines on the death of his little son of four years of age are well known:

“Petite âme mignonnelette,
Petite mignonne âmelette,
Hôtesse d’un si petit corps!
Petit mignon, mon petit Pierre,
Tu laisses ton corps à la terre,
Et ton âme s’en va dehors.”

La Pujade consecrated his pen to the Blessed Virgin in the _Mariade_, a poem of twelve cantos in praise of the _très sainte et très sacrée Vierge Marie_.

Another rhymer of Agen, and a courtier also, is Guillaume du Sable, a Huguenot, who in his verses held up his wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law as utterly given up to avarice. As for himself, he was always ready to spend! Yes, and as ready to beg. That he was by no means grasping, that his palms never itched, is shown by his poems, which are full of petitions to the king for horses, clothes, and appointments. Like so many of his co-religionists, he did not disdain the spoils of the enemy, as is apparent from this modest request to Henry IV.:

“Mais voulez-vous guérir, Sire, ma pauvreté?
Donnez-moi, s’il vous plait, la petite abbaye,
Ou quelque prieuré le reste de ma vie,
Puisque je l’ai vouée à votre majesté.”

He wrote against priests and monks, but stuck to the royal party, condemning all who revolted under pretext of religion. Perhaps the most supportable of his works is that against the Spanish Inquisition--a subject that never needs any _sauce piquante_. His _Tragique Elégie du jour de Saint Barthélemy_ affords an additional proof in favor of the approximate number of _one thousand_ victims at the deplorable massacre of August 24, 1572.

As a proof of the tenacity with which the Agenais have clung to past religious traditions and customs, we will cite the popular saying that arose from the unusual dispensations granted during Lent by Mgr. Hébert, the bishop of the diocese, in a time of great distress after an unproductive year:

“En milo sept centz nau L’abesque d’Agen debenguèt Higounau”--In 1709 the Bishop of Agen turned Huguenot!

Leaving Agen by the railway to Tarbes, we came in ten minutes to Notre Dame de Bon Encontre--a spot to which all the sorrows and fears and hopes of the whole region around are brought. This chapel is especially frequented during the month of May, when one parish after another comes here to invoke the protection of Mary. A continual incense of prayer seems to rise on the sacred air from this sweet woodland spire. A few houses cluster around the pretty church, which is surmounted by a colossal statue of the Virgin overlooking the whole valley and flooding it with peace, love, and boundless mercy. The image of her who is so interwoven with the great mysteries of the redemption can never be looked upon with indifference or without profit. The soul that finds Mary in the tangled grove of this sad world enters upon a “moonlit way of sweet security.”

We next pass Astaffort, a little village perched on a hill overlooking the river Gers, justifying its ancient device: _Sta fortiter_.[99] It played an important part in the civil wars of the country. The Prince de Condé occupied the place with four hundred men, and, attacked by the royalists, they were all slain but the prince and his valet, who made their escape. A cross marks the burial-place of the dead behind the church of Astaffort, still known as the field of the Huguenots.

Lectoure, like an eagle’s nest built on a cliff, is the next station, and merits a short tarry; for, though fallen from its ancient grandeur, it is a town full of historic interest, and contains many relics of the past. It is a place mentioned by Cæsar and Pliny, and yet so small that we wonder what it has been doing in the meantime. It was one of the nine cities of Novempopulania, and in the IXth century still boasted the Roman franchise, and was the centre of light and legislation to the country around, on which it imposed its customs and laws. It governed itself, lived its own individual life, unaffected by the changes of surrounding provinces, and proudly styled itself in its public documents “the Republic of Lectoure.” In the XIIth century it was the stronghold of the Vicomtes de Lomagne; and when Richard Cœur de Lion wished to bring Vivian II. of that house to terms, he laid siege to Lectoure, which, though stoutly defended for a time, was finally obliged to yield. In 1305 it belonged to the family of Bertrand de Got (Pope Clement V.), which accounts for a bull of his being dated at Lectoure. Count John of Armagnac married Reine de Got, the pope’s niece, in 1311, and thus the city fell into the hands of the haughty Armagnacs, who made it their capital. At this time they were the mightiest lords of the South of France, and seemed to have inherited the ancient glory of the Counts of Toulouse. For a time they held the destiny of France itself in their hands. For one hundred and fifty years they took a prominent part in all the French wars. Their banner, with its lion rampant, floated on every battle-field. Their war-cry--Armagnac!--resounded in the ears of the Derbys and Talbots. It was an Armagnac that sustained the courage of France after the surrender of King John at Poitiers; an Armagnac that united all the South against the English in the Etats-Généraux de Niort; and an Armagnac--Count Bernard VI.--who maintained the equilibrium of France when Jean-sans-Peur of Burgundy aimed at supremacy, and fell a victim to Burgundian vengeance at Paris.

Lectoure gives proofs of its antiquity and the changes it has passed through in the remains of its triple wall; its fountain of Diana; the bronzes, statuettes, jewels, and old Roman votive altars, that are now and then brought to light; its mediæval castle, and the interesting old church built by the English during their occupancy, with its massive square tower, whence we look off over the valley of the Gers, with its orchards and vineyards and verdant meadows shut in by wooded hills, and see stretching away to the south the majestic outline of the Pyrenees.

At the west of Lectoure is the forest of Ramier, in the midst of which once stood the Cistercian abbey of Bouillas--Bernardus valles--founded in 1125, but now entirely destroyed.

“Never was spot more sadly meet
For lonely prayer and hermit feet.”

There is a popular legend connected with these woods, the truth of which I do not vouch for--I tell the tale as ’twas told to me:

A poor charcoal-burner, who lived in this forest close by the stream of Rieutort, had always been strictly devout to God and the blessed saints, but, on his deathbed, in a moment of despair at leaving his three motherless children without a groat to bless themselves with, invoked in their behalf the foul spirit usually supposed to hold dominion over the bowels of the earth, with its countless mines of silver and gold. He died, and his three sons buried him beside their mother in the graveyard of Pauillac; but the wooden cross they set up to mark the spot obstinately refused to remain in the ground. Terrified at this ominous circumstance, the poor children fled to their desolate cabin. The night was dark and cold, and wolves were howling in the forest. “Brothers,” said the oldest, “we shall die of hunger and cold. There is not a crumb of bread in the house, and the doctor carried off all our blankets yesterday for his services. The Abbey of Bouillas is only half a league off. I am sure the good monks will not refuse alms to my brother Juan. And little Pierréto shall watch the house while I go to the Castle of Goas.”

Both brothers set off, leaving Pierréto alone in the cabin. He trembled with fear and the cold, and at length the latter so far prevailed that he ventured to the door to see if he could not catch a glimpse of his brothers on their way home. It was now “the hour when spirits have power.” Not a hundred steps off he saw a group of men dressed in rich attire, silently--“all silent and all damned”--warming themselves around a good fire. The shivering child took courage, and, drawing near the band, begged for some coals to light his fire. They assented, and Pierréto hurriedly gathered up a few and went away. But no sooner had he re-entered the cabin than they instantly went out. He went the second time, and again they were extinguished. The third time the leader of the band frowned, but gave him a large brand, and threateningly told him not to come again. The brand went out like the coals; and the men and fire disappeared as suddenly. Pierréto remained half dead with fright. An hour after Juan returned from the Convent of Bouillas with bread enough to last a week, and Simoun soon arrived from the castle with three warm blankets.

When daylight appeared, Pierréto went to the fire-place to look at his coals, and found they had all turned to gold. The two oldest now had the means of making their way in the world. One became a brave soldier, and the other a prosperous merchant; but Pierro became a brother in the Abbey of Bouillas. Night after night, as he paced the dark cloisters praying for his father’s soul, he heard a strange rushing as of fierce wind through the arches, and a wailing sound as sad as the _Miserere_. Pierro shuddered and thought of the cross that refused to darken his father’s grave; but he only prayed the longer and the more earnestly.

Years passed away. Simoun and Juan, who had never married, weary of honors and gain, came to join their brother in his holy retreat. Their wealth, that had so mysterious an origin, was given to God in the person of the poor. Then only did the troubled soul of their father find rest, and the holy cross consent to throw its shadow across his humble grave.

Lectoure is surrounded by ramparts; but the most remarkable of its ancient defences is the old castle of the Counts of Armagnac, converted into a hospital by the Bishop of Lectoure in the XVIIIth century. This castle witnessed the shameless crimes of Count John IV. and their fearful retribution at the taking of Lectoure under Louis XI. The tragical history of this great lord affords a new proof of the salutary authority exercised by the church over brutal power and unrestrained passion during the Middle Ages.

There is no more striking example of the degradation of an illustrious race than that of John V., the last Count of Armagnac, who shocked the whole Christian world by an unheard-of scandal. Having solicited in vain a dispensation to marry his sister Isabella, who was famous for her beauty, he made use of a pretended license, fraudulently drawn up in the very shadow of the papal court, as some say, to allay Isabella’s scruples, and celebrated this monstrous union with the greatest pomp. He forgot, in the intoxication of power and the delirium of passion, there could be any restraint on his wishes, that there was a higher tribunal which watched vigilantly over the infractions of the unchangeable laws of morality and religion. The pope fulminated a terrible excommunication against them. King Charles VII., hoping to wipe out so fearful a stain by the sacred influences of family affection, sent the most influential members of the count’s family to exert their authority; but in vain. The king soon turned against him, because he favored the revolt of the Dauphin, and sent an army to invade his territory. Count John’s only fear was of losing Isabella; and rather than separate from her to fight for the defence of his domains, he fled with her to the valley of Aure, while the royal army ravaged his lands.

Condemned to perpetual banishment, deprived of his dominions, his power gone, under the ban of the church, his eyes were opened to the extent of his degradation, his soul was filled with remorse. He took the pilgrim’s staff and set out for Rome, begging his bread by the way, to seek absolution for himself and his sister. Isabella retired from the world to do penance for her sins in the Monastery of Mount Sion at Barcelona. The church, which never spurns the repentant sinner, however stained with crime, granted him absolution on very severe conditions. The learned Æneas Sylvius (Pius II.) occupied the chair of S. Peter at that time. His great heart was touched by the heroic penance of so great a lord. He received him kindly, dwelt on the enormity of the scandal he had given to the world, and reminded him that Pope Zachary had condemned a man, guilty of an offence of the same nature, to go on a round of pilgrimages for fourteen years, the first seven of which he was ordered to wear an iron chain attached to his neck or wrist, fast three times a week, and only drink wine on Sundays; but the last seven he was only required to fast on Fridays; after which he was admitted to Communion.

More merciful, Pius II. enjoined on Count John never to hold any communication with Isabella by word, letter, or message; to distribute three thousand gold crowns for the reparation of churches and monasteries; and to fast every Friday on bread and water till he could take up arms against the Turks; all of which the count solemnly promised to do. Nor do we read he ever violated his word. Affected by such an example of penitence, the pope addressed Charles VII. a touching brief to induce him to pardon the count.

When Louis XI. came to the throne, remembering the services he had received from Count John, he restored him to his rank. The count now married a daughter of the house of Foix. Everything seemed repaired. But divine justice is not satisfied. Louis XI., determined to destroy the almost sovereign power of the great vassals, took advantage of Count John’s offences against his government, and resolved on his destruction. He sent an army to besiege him at Lectoure. At this siege Isabella’s son made his first essay at arms, and displayed the valor of his race but the young hero finally perished in a rash sortie, and the count soon after capitulated. The royal forces, taking possession of the place, basely violated the terms of surrender. The city was sacked and nearly all the inhabitants massacred. Among the victims was Count John himself, who died invoking the Virgin. The walls of the city were partly demolished, and fire set to the four quarters. The dead were left unburied, and for two months the wolves that preyed thereon were the only occupants of the place. Never was there a more fearful retribution. It took the city nearly a century to recover in a measure from this horrible calamity.

Lectoure was in the hands of the Huguenots when Monluc laid siege to it in 1562. Bremond, the commander, offered to capitulate, and, proposing an exchange of hostages, he asked for Verduzan, La Chapelie, and a third. Monluc consented, and as they approached the gates of the city they were fired upon by thirty or forty arquebusiers, but without effect. Monluc cried out that was not the fidelity of an honest man, but of a Huguenot. Bremond protested his innocence of the deed, and, pretending to seize one of the guilty men, he hung an innocent Catholic on the walls in sight of Monluc. Unaware of the fraud, the hostages again approached, and again they were fired upon. A gentleman from Agen was killed and others wounded. Indignant at such treachery, and supposing his own life particularly aimed at, Monluc exclaimed that, since they held their promises so lightly, he would do the same with his, and he immediately sent Verduzan with a company of soldiers to Terraube to despatch the prisoners whose lives he had spared. This order was executed with as much exactness as barbarity, and the implacable Monluc declared he had made “a fine end of some very bad fellows.”

Bremond, urged by the inhabitants, again renewed negotiations, and finally surrendered the city on condition of being allowed to withdraw with his troops to Bearn, flags flying and drums beating, and the Protestants left in the place permitted the free exercise of their religion--terms that were faithfully kept by Monluc.

It was probably the sympathy of Lectoure with the Huguenot party that led Charles IX. to deprive it of many of its ancient rights and privileges, which hastened its decline. It put on a semblance of its former grandeur, however, when it received Henry IV. within its walls, and Anne of Austria with Cardinal Richelieu.

It was in the old historic castle that Richelieu imprisoned the unfortunate Duc de Montmorency. The people favored his escape, and sent him a silk ladder in a _pâté_; but his kindness of heart led to his destruction. Desirous of saving a servant to whom he was attached, he took him with him in his attempt to escape. The servant fell from the ladder, and was wounded. His cry aroused the guard. Montmorency was taken and soon after beheaded at Toulouse. The soldiers present at his execution drank some of his blood, that, infused into their veins, it might impart something of the valor of so brave a man. He was so beloved by the common people that the peasantry of Castelnaudry, where he was taken prisoner, are familiar with his history, and speak of him with admiration and affection to this day. His wife, an Italian princess, became a Visitandine nun after his execution.

One cannot visit the old castle of Lectoure, with its thousand memories, without emotion. It is now a hospital. Charity has taken the place of brutality and lawless passion. Looking off from the walls over the pleasant valley below, watered by streams and divided by long lines of trees, we hear the song of the peaceful laborer instead of the battle-cry of the olden time, and the lowing of the fawn-colored Gascon cattle instead of the neighing of war-horses.

Before the castle opens a street that goes straight through the town, at the further end of which is the parish church of S. Gervais, a fine, spacious edifice of the Saxo-Gothic style, built by the English during their rule. The immense square tower was once a fortress, called the tower of S. Thomas, from which the sentinel signalled the approach of the enemy. It was formerly surmounted by the highest steeple in France, but, repeatedly struck by lightning, it was taken down some years ago by order of the bishop.

The Carmelite nuns at Lectoure have had from time immemorial a cross of marvellous efficacy, especially in cases of fever. It is of a style not often met with in France, though common in Spain, where it is held in great veneration from its miraculous prototype--the Santa Cruz de Caravaca.

This cross is made of copper, and has two cross-beams, like a patriarchal cross, with figures in relief on each side, which are connected with an interesting history. On the top of one side of the cross is the monogram of Christ, with a crosslet above and the three nails of the Passion below. The upper cross-beam has a chalice on the left arm, and on the right the lance that pierced the Sacred Heart, crossed by a reed with a sponge at the end. In the middle is an open space for relics.

On the left arm of the lower cross-beam is the scourge and the lantern that lit the soldiers to the Garden of Olives; on the right is a ladder; and in the centre the cock crowing on a pillar that extends up from the foot of the cross, at which is a death’s head.

These are the usual emblems of the Passion, familiar to all; but the other side is more mysterious. On the upper part is a patriarchal cross supported by two angels, one on each arm of the upper cross-beam. Lower down, in the centre of the lower cross-beam, is a priest in sacerdotal vestments, ready to offer the Holy Sacrifice, standing in an attitude of astonishment and admiration, looking up at the cross borne by the two angels. On his breast is the monogram of Christ, and beneath that of the Virgin. On each side are lilies in full bloom, and above his head, in the centre of the upper cross-beam, stands a chalice, as on an altar, covered with the sacred linen veil. It is evident the artist intended to represent all the objects necessary to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. There are two lighted candles at the side of the priest, and at the end of the right arm of the lower cross-beam are two kings filled with evident amazement, one of whom is gazing at the angelic apparition. At the left extremity is a queen and an attendant.

The Cross of Caravaca is associated with a chivalric legend of southern Spain. We give it as related by Juan de Robles, a priest of Caravaca, whose account was published at Madrid in 1615.

About the year of our Lord 1227 there reigned at Valencia a Moorish prince, known in the ancient Spanish chronicles by the Arabic name of Zeyt Abuzeyt, who embraced Christianity. According to Zurita, he became King of Murcia and Valencia in 1224, and was at first a violent persecutor of his Christian subjects. In 1225 he made peace with Iago, King of Aragon, promising him one-fifth of the revenues of his two capitals, which enraged his people and caused him the loss of Murcia. The Moors, discovering he held secret intercourse with the King of Aragon and the pope, drove him from Valencia in 1229. He died about 1248, before King Iago took possession of that city.

Zeyt Abuzeyt’s conversion to Christianity took place in consequence of a miracle that occurred in his presence at Caravaca, a town in his kingdom where he happened to be. At that time the Spanish victories over the Moors announced the speedy expulsion of the latter from the Peninsula, and frequent conversions took place among them. A Christian priest ventured among the Moors of the kingdom of Murcia to preach the Gospel. He was seized and brought before Zeyt Abuzeyt, who asked him many questions concerning the Christian religion, and, in particular, about the Sacrifice of the Mass. The explanations of the priest interested him so much that he requested him to celebrate the Holy Mysteries in his presence. The priest, not having the necessary articles, sent for them to the town of Concha, which was in the hands of the Christians; but it happened that the cross, which should always be on the altar during the celebration of Mass, had been forgotten. The priest, not remarking the deficiency, began the Holy Sacrifice, but, soon observing the cross was wanting, did not know what to do. The king, who was present with his family and the court, seeing the priest suddenly turn pale, asked what had happened. “There is no cross on the altar,” replied the priest. “But is not that one?” replied the king, who at that moment saw two angels placing a cross on the altar. The good priest joyfully gave thanks to God and continued the sacred rites. So marvellous an occurrence triumphed over the infidelity of Zeyt Abuzeyt, and he at once professed his faith in Christ. Popular tradition says he was baptized by the name of Ferdinand, in honor of the holy king, Ferdinand III., who stood as sponsor. Pope Urban IV. addressed him a brief of felicitation on account of his baptism.

Zeyt Abuzeyt had one son, who received the name of Vincent when baptized, and subsequently married a Christian maiden. At the death of his father he took the title of the King of Valencia, which he held till the King of Aragon took possession of the city. He then contented himself with the lands and revenues assigned him by the conqueror.

This account explains the figures on the Cross of Caravaca. We see the astonished priest and the cross borne by the angels. The two kings, who are gazing at the cross, are of course King Zeyt Abuzeyt and S. Ferdinand, his god-father. The queen opposite is doubtless Dominica Lopez, whom, according to tradition, he married after his baptism; and beside her is her daughter, called Aldea Fernandez in honor of King Ferdinand.

This cross, to which a great number of miracles are attributed, is preserved with great care in the church at Caravaca, in the ancient kingdom of Murcia. It is believed to be made of the sacred wood of the true cross. A great number of similar crosses have since been made, and there is hardly a family in Spain which has not a Cross of Caravaca. Many people wear one.

S. Teresa had great devotion to this cross, and her cross of Caravaca fell into the possession of the Carmelites of Brussels, who gave it to the monastery of S. Denis during the time of Mme. Louise of France; but this precious relic has since been restored to the convent at Brussels.

On an eminence in sight of Lectoure is one of the sanctuaries of mysterious origin dear to popular piety, so numerous in this country. It is Notre Dame d’Esclaux. Its modest tower looks down on a secluded valley which delights the eye with its freshness and fertility, its fine trees, and the sparkling streams here and there among the verdure. Beyond are fertile heights in the direction of Nérac. The origin of this church is somewhat obscure. Old traditions tell of oxen kneeling in a thicket in the meadow belonging to the lord of S. Mézard. The shepherds, attracted by the circumstance, found a statue of Our Lady buried in the ground. There are many instances of similar discoveries in this region. The animals that witnessed the Nativity have always had a certain sacredness in the eyes of the people, and they have part in many an ancient legend, like that in which they are made to kneel at the midnight hour at Christmas. The lord of the manor built a chapel for the wondrous image, and a fountain soon after sprang up, which to this day is celebrated for its miraculous virtues. The most ancient document concerning this chapel bears the date of April 23, 1626, stating it had been destroyed by the Huguenots during the religious wars, and owed its restoration to the piety of the noble family who, according to tradition, first founded it. The concourse of pilgrims has not ceased for three centuries. Whole parishes come here in procession in perpetual remembrance of some great benefit. The parish of Pergain has not failed to make its annual pilgrimage for two hundred years in fulfilment of a vow made to avert the divine wrath after a fearful hail-storm that had ravaged its lands. Only a few of the wonders wrought in this sanctuary have been recorded. We find a striking one, however, in the beginning of last century. A little boy of seven years of age, who had never walked in his life and had no use whatever of his feet, was taken by his pious parents to Notre Dame d’Esclaux, where Mass was said for his benefit. At the moment of the Elevation the little cripple rose without assistance, and went up to the railing of the chancel, and afterwards walked home to La Romieu, a distance of about six miles. He always celebrated the anniversary of his miraculous cure with pious gratitude, and his descendants have continued to do the same to this day. The details of this wonderful occurrence have been furnished by M. Lavardens, the present head of the family, one of the most respectable in the region.

A path leads the devout pilgrim up the sad way of the cross to the summit of the hill, where stands a large crucifix, in which is enshrined a relic of the true cross. We loved to see these heights consecrated to religion with the sign of the Passion--emblem of the triumph of moral liberty.

“O faithful Cross! O noblest tree!
In all our woods there’s none like thee.
No earthly groves, no shady bowers,
Produce such leaves, such fruit, such flowers;
Sweet are the nails, and sweet the wood,
That bear a weight so sweet and good.”

Fifteen minutes’ walk to the south of Lectoure brings you to the Chapel of S. Geny, on the banks of the Gers. Behind it rises the mount on whose summit this saint of the early times was wont to pray. Here he was when thirty soldiers, sent by the Roman governor in pursuit of him, appeared on the other side of the Gers. S. Geny lifted up his clean hands and pure heart to heaven. The hill trembled beneath his knees. The river rose so high that for two days the amazed soldiers were unable to cross, and then it was to throw themselves at the saint’s feet and acknowledge the power of the true God. They received baptism, and were soon after martyred in a place long known as the “Blood of the Innocents.” A new band being sent against S. Geny, he again ascends the mount, but this time to pray his soul may be received among those whose robes have just been washed white in the blood of the Lamb. And while he was praying with eyes uplifted the heavens opened, he saw the newly-crowned martyrs, encircled with rejoicing angels, chanting: Let those who have overcome the adversary and kept their garments undefiled have their names written in the Lamb’s book of life! At this sight the saint’s knees bend, his ravished soul breaks loose from its bonds and takes flight for heaven. This was on the 3d of May. His body remained on the top of the mount, giving out an odor of mysterious sweetness, till the Bishop of Lectoure brought it down to the foot of the hill, and buried it in the little church S. Geny had erected over his mother’s tomb. Not long after two persons, overtaken by darkness, sought refuge in this oratory, and found it filled with a great light and embalmed with lilies and roses--beautiful emblems of the supernatural love and purity that had distinguished the saint.

Not far from Lectoure was once another “devout chapel,” one of the most noted in the country around--Notre Dame de Protection, in the village of Tudet, a place of pilgrimage as far back as the XIIth century. The Madonna has a miraculous origin, like so many others in this “Land of Mary.” According to the old legend, it was discovered by shepherds in a fountain at which an ox had refused to drink. The statue was set up beside the spring, and became a special object of devotion to the neighborhood and a source of many supernatural favors. Vivian II., Vicomte de Lomagne, in gratitude for personal benefits received, built a chapel for the reception of the statue in 1178, but, as it proved too small for the numerous votaries, Henry II. of England, a few years after, erected a large church adjoining Vivian’s chapel, with a hospice, served by monks, for the accommodation of pilgrims. All over the neighboring hills rose little cells inhabited by hermits drawn to this favored spot from the remotest parts of southern France. Not only the common people, but the nobles and renowned warriors of the Middle Ages, and even the kings of France, came here to implore the protection of the Virgin. Every year, at spring-time, came the inhabitants of Lectoure, Fleurance, and all the neighboring parishes, often fourteen or fifteen at a time, accompanied by priests in their robes and magistrates in red official garments, chanting hymns in honor of Mary. Countless miracles were wrought at her altar. The walls were covered with crutches and _ex votos_. One of the fathers of Tudet writes thus at the close of last century: “Here Mary may be said to manifest her power and goodness in a special manner. How many times has she not caused the paralytic to walk, cured the epileptic, given sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and speech to the dumb! How often has she not healed the sick at the very gates of death, snatched people from destruction at the very moment of danger, and put an end to hail-storms, tempests, and the plague!”

Nothing enrages the impious so much as the evidences of a piety that is a constant reproach to their lives; and the Revolution of 1793 swept away, not only the ancient chapel of the Viscounts of Lomagne, but the church of Henry II., the hospice, and the hermits’ cells, leaving only a few broken arches where now and then a solitary pilgrim went to pray. The miraculous statue, however, was rescued from profanation, and for a long time buried in the ground. It is still honored in the village church of Gaudonville, but it is only a mutilated trunk, its head and most of the limbs being gone. So many holy recollections, however, are associated with it, that people still gather around it to pray, especially in harvest-time, to be spared the ravages of hail, often so destructive in this region.

Some of the old hymns in the expressive Gascon tongue, as sung at Notre Dame de Protection, are still extant, and nothing is more pathetic than to see a group of hard-working peasants around the altar of the chapel of Gaudonville singing:

“Jésus, bous aouets tribaillat
Prenéts noste tribail en grat!”[100]

or:

“Jésus! bous ets lou boun Pastou,
Bost’oilhe qu’ey lou pécadou
Gouardats-lou deu loup infernau,
Et de touto sorto de mau!”[101]

Among other prayers they chant is a rhymed litany of twenty-seven saints of different trades, and twenty-one shepherd saints, with an appropriate invocation to each, not exactly poetical, but, sung by the uncultivated voices of poor laborers in that rustic chapel in a measured mournful cadence, there is something akin to poesy--something higher--which awakens profound and salutary thoughts. It is in this way they invoke S. Spiridion, the reaper; S. Auber, the laborer in the vineyard; S. Isidore, the gardener:

“Sent Isidore, qui ets estats Coum nous au tribail occupat,” etc.--S. Isidore, who wast like us in labor occupied, etc.--a touching appeal for sympathy to that unseen world of saints of every tribe and tongue and degree, which excludes not the highest, and admits the lowest.

The Church of Notre Dame de Tudet is about to be rebuilt. The corner-stone was laid a short time since on the feast of Our Lady of Protection, under the patronage of the pious descendants of the ancient Viscounts of Lomagne, true to the traditions of their race. The entire population of fourteen neighboring villages assembled to witness the solemn ceremony and pray in a spot so venerated by their ancestors. The mutilated statue of Gaudonville is to be restored, and brought back in triumph to the place where it was once so honored. Thus all through France there is a singular revival of devotion to the venerable sanctuaries of the Middle Ages. Everywhere they are being repaired or rebuilt--a significant fact of good augury for the church.

TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.

BROTHER PHILIP.[102]

The century in which we live has distinguished itself by a terrible propaganda of evil, error and corruption taking every variety of form to insinuate themselves into society; yet this same century is also marked by great and generous efforts in the cause of truth and goodness, and in these France has proved herself true to her ancient vocation. From a peculiar vivacity of energy (if we may be allowed the expression) in the national character, whether for good or for evil, the land that has produced some of the most hardened atheists, the worst and wildest communists, and the most frivolous votaries of pleasure, continues to produce the most numerous and devoted missionaries, the readiest martyrs, and saints whose long lives of hidden toil for God and his church are a noble pendant to her martyrs’ deaths.

One of these lives of unobtrusive toil is now before us--that of Brother Philip, who during thirty-five years was Superior-General of the Frères des Ecoles Chrétiennes, or Brothers of the Christian Schools. Before tracing it, even in the imperfect manner which is all for which we have space, it will be well to give a brief sketch of the institute of which he was for so long the honored head.

Jean Baptiste de la Salle, the son of noble parents, was born at Rheims in the year 1651. Entering Holy Orders early in life, he greatly distinguished himself in the priesthood, not only as a scholar and theologian, but also as an orator, so eloquent and persuasive that he might have aspired to the highest dignities in the church had he not chosen to limit his ambition to the lowly work of popular education. This education was not then in existence. Not that there was an utter absence of schools, but these were all unconnected with each other, and were besides greatly wanting in any good and efficient method of teaching. The Abbé de la Salle invented the simultaneous method, namely, that which consists in giving lessons to a whole class at a time, instead of to each child separately. The subjects of instruction were reading, writing, French grammar, arithmetic, and geometry, with Christian teaching as the basis and invariable accompaniment of all the rest. He founded an association of religious who were not to enter the priesthood, of which, however, they were to become the most efficient allies in the education of the young according to the mind of the church, this intention being their distinguishing characteristic. Resolving to live in community with them, he resigned his canonry at Rheims, and sold his rich patrimony, distributing the money among the poor. He gave the brethren their rule, and also the habit which they wear. Thus a new religious family, not ecclesiastical, appeared in France, the members of which were only to be brothers, united by the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The Abbé de la Salle also established a school for training teachers, which was the first normal school ever founded in France; he also originated Sunday-schools for the young apprentices of different trades, and _pensionnats_, or boarding-schools, the first of which was opened at Paris, for the Irish youths protected by James II. of England, and fugitives like himself.

The chief house of the order was St. Yon (formerly Hauteville), an ancient manor just outside the gates of Rouen, surrounded by an extensive enclosure, and affording a peaceful solitude where M. de la Salle enjoyed his few brief intervals of repose in this world. He had been invited to settle there by Mgr. Colbert, Archbishop of Rouen, and M. de Pontcarré, First President of the Parliament of Normandy, and, after the death of Louis XIV., made it more and more the centre of his work. It was at St. Yon that he resigned the post of superior-general in 1716, and there he died on Good Friday, the 7th of April, 1719, aged sixty-eight years. The house was soon afterwards enlarged and a church built, to which in 1734 the Brothers transferred the remains of their holy founder, which had until then rested in the Church of S. Sever.

The Brothers of the Christian Schools were called the Brothers of St. Yon, and sometimes les Frères Yontains, whence originated the title of Frères Ignorantins, which has, however, been _lived down_ by the institute, the excellence of the instruction afforded by the Christian Schools not permitting the perpetuation of the derisive epithet.

The new order supplied a want too generally felt not to extend itself rapidly, and at the time of the Abbé de la Salle’s death it numbered twenty-seven houses, two-hundred and seventy-four Brothers, and nine thousand eight hundred and eighty-five pupils. In 1724 Louis XV. granted it letters-patent expressive of his approval, and it was in the same year that Pope Benedict XIII. accorded canonical institution to the congregation, thus realizing the earnest desire of the venerable founder, that his institute should be recognized by the Sovereign Pontiff as a religious order, with a distinctive character and special constitutions. Brother Timothy was at that time superior-general. He governed the institute with energy and wisdom for thirty-one years, during which time no less than seventy additional houses of the order were established in various of the principal towns of France, everywhere meeting with encouragement and protection from the bishops and the Christian nobility, so that every inauguration of a school was made an occasion of rejoicing.

The successor of Brother Timothy was Brother Claude, who was superior-general from 1751 to 1767, when, having attained the age of seventy-seven, he resigned his office, continuing to live eight years longer in the house of St. Yon, where he died. It was at this period that the atheism of the XVIIIth century was making its worst ravages. A band of writers, under the leadership of Voltaire, laid siege, as it were, to Christianity, by a regular plan of attack, and, employing as their weapons a false and superficial philosophy, distorted history, raillery, ridicule, corruption, and lies, they conspired against the truth, while licentiousness of mind and manners infected society and literature alike. At the very time when the followers of the faith were devoting themselves with renewed energy to the instruction of the ignorant and the succor of the needy, philosophy, so-called, by the pen of Voltaire, wrote as follows:

“The people are only fit to be directed, not instructed; they are not worth the trouble.”[103]

“It appears to me absolutely essential that there should be ignorant beggars. It is the towns-people (_bourgeoisie_) only, not the working-classes, who ought to be taught.”[104]

“The common people are like oxen: the goad, the yoke, and fodder are enough for _them_.”[105] Thus contemptuously were the people regarded by anti-Christian philosophy, which, while it paid court to any form of earthly power, perpetuated, and even outdid, the traditions of pagan antiquity in its hardness and disdain towards the lower orders.

On the retirement of Brother Claude, Brother Florentius accepted, in 1777, the direction of the house at Avignon, where the storm of Revolution burst upon him. After undergoing imprisonment and every kind of insulting and cruel treatment he died a holy death, in 1800, when order was beginning to be restored to France.

Brother Agathon, who next ruled the congregation, was a man of high culture in special lines of study, of wise discernment regarding the interests and requirements of the religious life, and of rare capacity as an administrator. The circular-addresses he issued from time to time have never lost their authority with the Brothers, and furnish a supplement as well as a commentary to the rule of their institute. He did much to increase the extent and efficiency of the latter, but was interrupted in the midst of his work by the political disturbances that were agitating his country. The decree of the 13th of February, 1790, by which “all orders and congregations, whether of men or women,” were suppressed, did not immediately overthrow the institute; but, although it suffered the provisional existence of such associations as were charged with public instruction or attendance on the sick, the respite was to be of short duration. The Brothers, however, notwithstanding the anxiety into which they were thrown by the decree of the Constitutional Assembly, ventured to hope that their society would be spared on account of its known devotedness to the interests of the people. Brother Agathon, moreover, was not a man who would silently submit to unjust measures, and several petitions were addressed by him to the Assembly, in which he fearlessly pleaded the cause of his institute, on the ground of its acknowledged utility among the very classes whose benefit the Assembly professed to have so greatly at heart. The simple and conclusive reasoning of these petitions must have gained their cause with reason and justice; but reason and justice were alike dethroned in France. One member alone of the Assembly did himself honor by representing the excellence of their teaching and the reality of their patriotism, but he spoke in vain; and on the universal refusal of the Brothers to take the oath imposed by the civil constitution on the members of any religious society, as well as on those of the priesthood, the houses to which they belonged were summarily suppressed. They were abused for not sending their pupils to attend the religious ceremonies presided over by schismatic ministers; they were accused of storing arms in their houses to be used against the country; they were charged with monopolizing and concealing victuals; but after a visit of inspection at Melun the municipal officers were compelled to bear testimony to the disinterested probity of these pious teachers, and similar perquisitions invariably resulted in the confusion of their calumniators.

But the Revolution continued its course. A decree passed on the 18th of August, 1792, suppressed all “secular ecclesiastical corporations” and lay associations, “such as that of the Christian Schools,” it being alleged that “a state truly free ought not to suffer the existence in its bosom of any corporation whatsoever, not even those which, being devoted to public instruction, have deserved well of the country.”

The Reign of Terror had begun; the dungeons were filling, and the prison was but the threshold to the scaffold. The children of the venerable De la Salle were not spared. Brother Solomon, secretary to the superior-general, was martyred on the 2d of September for refusing to take the schismatic oath. Brother Abraham was on the very point of being guillotined when he was rescued by one of the National Guard. The Brothers of the house in the Rue de Notre Dame des Champs continued to keep the schools of S. Sulpice until the massacre of the Carmelite monks. Several of the Brothers were put to death. The courageous words of Brother Martin before the revolutionary tribunal at Avignon have been preserved. “I am a teacher devoted to the education of the children of the poor,” he said to his judges; “and if your protestations of attachment to the people are sincere; if your principles of fraternity are anything better than mere forms of speech, my functions not only justify me, but claim your thanks.” Language like this ensured sentence of death. Besides, at that time they condemned; they did not judge.

After eighteen months of imprisonment Brother Agathon was restored to liberty, and died in 1797, at Tours, leaving his institute dispersed; but consoled by the last sacraments, which he received in secret.

Among the scattered members of a congregation too Christian not to be persecuted in those days we do not find one who did not remain faithful. Many of them, in the name and dress of civilians, continued to occupy themselves in teaching, and filled the post of schoolmasters at Noyon, Chartres, Laon, Fontainebleau, etc. From the municipal authorities of Laon they received a public testimonial of esteem; and in 1797, being imprisoned on the denunciation of a schismatic priest, the Brothers were set at liberty by a grateful and avenging ebullition on the part of the mothers of families. Their exit from prison was a triumph, the population crowding to meet them and throwing flowers in their way until they reached the school-house, in the court of which a banquet had been prepared, at which masters and scholars found themselves happily reunited.