There is no dependence on what travellers say of different towns and
places they have visited, and therefore you must not lay too much stress
upon what I say. A Lady of fashion, who had travelled all over France,
gave the preference to the town I wrote last to you from (_Marseilles_);
to me, the climate excepted, it is of all others the most disagreeable;
yet that Lady did not mean to deceive; but people often prefer the town
for the sake of the company they find, or some particular or local
circumstance that attended their residence in it; in that respect, I too
left it reluctantly, having met with much civility and some old friends
there; but surely, exclusive of its fine harbour, and favourable
situation for trade, it has little else to recommend it, but riot, mob,
and confusion; provisions are very dear, and not very good.
On our road here we came again through _Aix_. The _Mule blanche_ without
the town, is better than any auberge within, and Mons. _L'Abbe Abrard
Prætor, de la ordre de St. Malta_, is not only a very agreeable, but a
very convenient acquaintance for a stranger, and who is always ready to
shew the English in particular, attention, and who had much attention
shewn him by Lord A. PERCY and his Lady.
From _Aix_ we passed through _Lambresque_, _Orgon_, and _Sencage_, a
fine country, full of almond trees, and which were in full blossom on
the 7th of March. At _Orgon_ the post-house was so bad, that after my
horse was in the stable, I was obliged to put him to, and remove to the
_Soleil d'Or_, without the town, and made a good move too. The situation
of _Notre Dame de St. Piere_, a convent on a high hill, is worthy of
notice, and the antiquity of the town also.--Five leagues from _Orgon_
we crossed a very aukward passage in a ferry-boat, and were landed in
the Pope's territories, about five miles from _Avignon_. The castle, and
higher part of the town, were visible, rising up in the middle of a vast
plain, fertile and beautiful as possible. If we were charmed with the
distant view, we were much more so upon a nearer approach; nothing can
be more pleasing than the well-planted, and consequently well-shaded
coach and foot roads all round this pretty little city; all shut in with
the most beautiful ancient fortification walls I ever beheld, and all in
perfect repair; nor were we asked any questions by the Pope's soldiers,
or Custom-house Officers. I had a letter to Dr. POWER, an English
Physician in this town, who received me with great civity, and made me
known to LORD MOUNTGARRET, and Mr. BUTLER, his son, with whom I had the
honour to spend some very agreeable hours: his Lordship has an
excellent house here, and keeps a table, truly characteristic of the
hospitality of his own country.--And now I cannot help telling you of a
singular disorder which attacked me the very day I arrived; and the
still more singular manner I got well: the day before I arrived, we had
been almost blown along the road to _Orgon_ by a most violent wind; but
I did not perceive that I had received any cold or injury from it, till
we arrived here, and then, I had such an external soreness from head to
foot, that I almost dreaded to walk or stir, and when I did, it was as
slow as my feet could move; after continuing so for some days, I was
much urged to dine with Lord MOUNTGARRET, on St. Patrick's day; I did
so, and by drinking a little more than ordinary, set nature to work,
who, without any other Doctor, did the business, by two or three nights'
copious sweats. I would not have mentioned this circumstance, but it may
be the _mal du pais_, and ought to be mentioned for the _method of
cure_.
There was not quite so good an understanding between the Pope's
_Legate_ and the English residing here, as could be wished; some
untoward circumstance had happened, and there seemed to be faults on
both sides; it was carried, I think, to such a length, that when the
English met him, they did not pull off their hats; but as it happened
before I came, and as in our walks and rides we often met him airing in
his coach, we paid that respect which is everywhere due to a first
magistrate, and he took great pains to return it most graciously; his
livery, guards, &c. make a very splendid appearance: he holds a court,
and is levee'd every Sunday, though not liked by the French. At the
church of St. _Didier_, in a little chapel, of mean workmanship, is the
tomb of the celebrated _Laura_, whose name _Petrarch_ has rendered
immortal; the general opinion is, that she died a virgin; but it appears
by her tomb, that she was the wife of _Hugues de Sade_, and that she
had many children. About two hundred years after her death, some curious
people got permission to open her tomb, in which they found a little
box, containing some verses written by _Petrarch_, and a medallion of
lead, on one side of which was a Lady's head and on the reverse, the
four following letters, M.L.M.E.
_Francis_ the First, passing thro' _Avignon_, visited this tomb, and
left upon it the following epitaph, of his own composition:
"En petit lien compris vous pouvez voir
Ce qui comprend beaucoup par renommèe
Plume, labour le langue & le devoir
Furent vaincus par l'aimant de l'aimée
O gentille ame, etant tant estimée
Qui le pourra louer quen se laissant?
Car la parole est toujours reprimée
Quand le sujet surmonte le disant."
This town is crowded with convents and churches. The convent of the
_Celestines_, founded by _Charles_ the VIth, is richly endowed, and has
noble gardens: there are not above fourteen or fifteen members, and
their revenue is near two thousand pounds sterling a year. In their
church is a very superb monument of Pope _Clement_ the VIIth, who died
here in the year 1394, as a long Latin inscription upon it announces.
They shew in this house a picture, painted by King _Renee_; it
represents the frightful remains of his beloved mistress, whose body he
took out of the grave, and painted it in the state he then found it,
i.e. with the worms crawling about it: it is a hideous figure, and
hideously painted; the stone coffin stands on a line with the figure,
but is above a foot too short for the body; and on the other side is a
long scrole of verses, written in Gothic characters, which begin thus:
"_Une fois fus sur toutes femmes belle
Mais par la mort suis devenue telle
Machair estoit tres-belle fraische & tendre
O'r est elle toute tournee en cendre._"
There follow at least forty other such lines.
There is also in this convent, a fine monument, on which stands the
effigies of _St. Benezet_, a shepherd of _Avignon_, who built (they say)
the bridge from the town over the Rhone, in consequence of a dream, in
the year 1127: some of the noble arches are still standing, and part of
a very pretty chapel on it, nearly in the middle of the river; but a
great part of the bridge has been carried away, many years since, by the
violence of the river, which often not only overflows its banks, but the
lower part of the town. In 1755, it rose seventeen feet higher than its
usual flowing, and I saw marks in many of the streets, high above my
head, against the sides of houses, which it had risen to; but with all
my industry, I could find no _mark upon the house where Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu dwelt_, though she resided some time here, and though I
endeavoured to find it.
I need not describe the celebrated fountain of _Vaucluse_, near this
town, where _Petrarque_ composed his works, and established Mount
Parnassus. This is the only part of France in which there is an
Inquisition, but the Officers seem content with their profits and
honours, without the power.
One part of the town is allotted to the Jews, where about six or seven
hundred live peaceably and have their synagogue; and it was here the
famous rabbin _Joseph Meir_ was born; he died in the year 1554; he was
author, you know, of _Annals des Rois de France_, and _de la Maison
Ottomane_.
Not far from _Avignon_, on the banks of the same rapid river, stands
_Beaucaire_, famous for its annual FAIR, where merchandize is brought
from all parts of Europe, free of all duties: it begins on the 22d of
July; and it is computed that eight million of livres are annually
expended there in eight days. _Avignon_ is remarkable for the No. Seven,
having seven ports, seven parishes, seven colleges, seven hospitals,
and seven monasteries; and I may add, I think, seven hundred bells,
which are always making a horrid jingle, for they have no idea of
ringing bells harmoniously in any part of France.