Heights of Fourvières—Difficult Descent—Trade in Relics—Our Lady
of Fourvières—Saving Lyons from Cholera—Lunatic
patients—Dungeon where the first Christian Bishop was
murdered—Roman Ruins—The Christians’ early Place of
Assembly—St. Irénée—A Coffin—Subterranean Chapels—Bones of
the Nine Thousand—The Headsman’s Block, and the Murmur from the
Well—Bleeding to Death—Marguerite Labarge—Her Abode for Nine
Years—Her Return to upper Air Cause of her Death—Her Family
rich Residents in Lyons—Mode of saving the Soul—Body dispensed
with—The Pope’s Bull good for ever—A Friend’s Arrival—Jardin
des Plantes—Riots of November, 1831—The Préfet’s Mistake—Capt.
de——.—Defence of the Arsenal with Unloaded Cannon—The
Murdered Chef de Bataillon—His Assassin’s Death—The Grief of
his Opponents—Their usual Cruelty and their wild Justice—Their
eight days’ occupation of Lyons—Capt. de ——’s defence of
Arsenal—Bearer of Proclamation—Danger—Saved by a former
Comrade—Interview—Threats—Empty Cannon effective—Invitation
to Dinner—Retreat—The Hôtel de l’Europe closed against its
Master by a National Guard—Three Hundred killed in St.
Nizier—The Cathedral—Second Council General—Jaw of St.
John—The Ivory Horn of Roland—Privilege of the Seigneur of Mont
d’Or—The first Villeroy Archbishop—Refusal to accept him by the
Counts of Lyons—His Text and the Dean’s Reply—Lyons Refuge for
the Pazzi—Their Monument destroyed in anger by Marie de
Médicis—The last Prince of Dauphiné becoming Prior of the
Jacobin Convention, Paris—Procession in St. Nizier—Chapel of
Ste. Philomène—Place des Terreaux.
15th May.
The news of the disturbances in Paris has set all Lyons in a ferment.
18th May.
The weather has been burning. We attempted riding by the steep streets
to the summit of Fourvières; but having accomplished half the ascent,
it became so rapid, and the sharp pavement so slippery, that we were
obliged to dismount and lead the horses under the walls of the
Antiquaille, and up a road which is rather like a stair to the church.
Not willing to confide our companions to the tender mercies of the
mischievous boys, who as usual flocked round us, we led them within the
court which surrounds Notre Dame, and up to the low terrace wall.
Grizzle, with her ready appetite, devoured the few weeds and moss which
grew among the stones; and Fanny looked as attentively at the view, as
if she were considering her distance from the inn which was in sight,
and the difficulty of getting back again. The hill is here almost
perpendicular. The streets we had taken to attain the height, abrupt as
they seem, are zigzags cut in the side of the mountain; and the city,
with its two rivers, spread like a map below our giddy elevation. The
air was particularly clear, except over the Alps, where a haze has
provokingly hung ever since our arrival. We could read “Hôtel de
l’Europe” distinctly on the front of the inn on the opposite side of
the Saône; the Place Bellecour was just behind it, its equestrian
statue looking at this distance like a toy; then the broad Rhone, the
faubourg, with its gardens and promenades, and the Grande Route we are
to travel towards the mountains, a white line crossing bare hills,
which seem uninteresting and interminable. A little to our right was
the Pont d’Aisnay, traversing the Saône to the arsenal, a low
insignificant looking building. Farther, in the same direction, the
race-ground of Perrache was visible. About the year 1808 the people of
Lyons presented this land to Napoleon, and he accepted it as the site
of an Imperial palace! Still beyond we could distinguish the junction
of the Rhone and the Saône, no longer in precisely the same spot as
when Hannibal crossed the Rhone at the head of his army, where the
currents met at Aisnay.
The view to the left is less extensive; the jutting ground of
Fourvières in some degree narrows it; but it is fine notwithstanding,
and the Jardin des Plantes, green and blossoming as it is now, appears
to advantage on the steep side of the opposite hill among the confusion
of houses and church towers. It was impossible to return by the same
road, and none of the stupid inhabitants of the hovels about us could
point out another. Merely knowing the direction, we found our way among
hot lanes, between stone walls, till, after an hour’s windings, we
issued from them opposite the pretty churchyard of St. Just. A
labouring man, answering our question, said, “There was a road that
way, certainly, but a very bad one for horses, as it was yet only
partly paved.” I should have thought no one knowing the pavement of
Lyons would have considered it an advantage. Taking that way, though he
strongly advised returning as we came, we passed below the extensive
fort, in the completion of which numbers are still employed, and a few
minutes brought us on the magnificent road, cut for the sole purpose of
making an easy communication between it and the town, (it winds in
broad zigzags, the whole way commanding a splendid view,) and arrived
at the quay, beneath Pierre Encise. This new work has also contributed
to diminish the rock; from the river it must have been a striking
object, when the hundred and twenty steps cut in its stone led up to
the fortress crowned with a large round tower, whose proportions were
of such perfect symmetry.
We returned on foot to Fourvières this morning; on either side of the
narrow lane which leads directly to the church are standings without
number, covered with what seems on this hill the chief staple of
trade,—I mean chaplets, crowns, and bouquets of dyed artificial
flowers; coloured prints, framed and glazed, of saints in various
attitudes; little waxen heads, legs, and arms, or whole figures; votive
offerings, which the faithful present at the shrine of their patron
saint, and find here ready at the church door.
The church is kept locked, and we merely read again the inscription
above its entrance, which gratefully thanks our Lady of Fourvières, who
saved Lyons from cholera. We went up the square tower, D—— to the
top, I to the first floor half way, from whose windows the prospect is
perhaps as agreeable. The guide pointed to the Antiquaille, directly
beneath one of them; it contains, as I told you, an hospital and
penitentiary, and also an asylum for lunatics; we could distinguish two
of these in the court-yard belonging to the end of the building facing
us; one was leaping with all his force against the rails, uttering
howls rather like an animal than a human being; we heard him
distinctly; the other close by, and quite undisturbed, was on his knees
praying, and had been there immoveable (the man said) for the last two
hours. The more tractable are allowed to walk with their keepers in the
fine gardens adjoining. It is said that the dungeon beneath the
Antiquaille remains unchanged, as in the time when St. Pothin, first
Bishop of Lyons, was tortured and murdered there; they pretend to show
the very fetters he wore.
From this same window, which looks south, you can also distinguish the
remains of a Roman amphitheatre, and the commencement of a Roman
aqueduct, whose vestiges can be traced three leagues further. Still on
the brow of the hill is the square tower of the church of St. Irénée,
built over the subterranean chapels where the Christians assembled in
the early days of persecution. We left the observatory to go thither,
passing on our way four or five broken arches of the aqueduct
constructed by the army of Julius Cæsar, whose massiveness in ruin puts
the perfection of modern buildings to shame. What I thought a long
walk, with innumerable windings, and here and there a beautiful glimpse
back to the hills of Burgundy, brought us to the dirty faubourg, where,
with some trouble, we found the church. A long flight of steps leads to
a rather uninteresting modern building; on either side of the choir are
two highly ornamented chapels, one having a finely painted window; and
between the choir and the chapels are appended to the wall, framed and
glazed, on one side a list of “Indulgences,” annexed to St. Irénée; on
the other a bull of his Holiness Pius the Seventh. I thought the latter
worth copying; but in the nave there was a coffin, covered with its
pall and surrounded by high candlesticks, the black banner with its
silver scull and cross bones attached to each. It certainly was a
melancholy companion, and D—’s imagination representing to him that
the inmate had perhaps died of some contagious malady, he hurried me
out. A side door and a narrow flight of steps led to a court at the
back of the church, at the extremity of which, and the very edge of the
hill, commanding here the most glorious view of Lyons I have yet seen,
is the Calvary, on a raised platform, inclosed by a railing. Steps led
up to it, (as do others to the vaults below, in which is a
representation of the Holy Sepulchre;) the Saviour on the cross, the
thieves on either side, the Virgin standing in an attitude of despair,
and the Magdalen kneeling at its foot, are large as life, and finely
sculptured; and of all the similar groups I have seen, this certainly
is most impressive, perhaps from its position, looking down on a world,
with the blue sky for a background. Round the court are the stations,
each a small covered altar, a basso relievo in white marble affixed to
each, representing a scene of the Passion. The little dwelling of the
Concierge is close by, and he came to unlock the gate at the top of the
stair which leads to the subterranean chapels. They are beneath the
church, opposite the Calvary. The light of day penetrates so faintly,
that descending these steps it was difficult to distinguish what
objects we saw piled behind a grated window on the right hand; it is a
mass of human bones, filling a room of considerable size, those of the
nine thousand massacred in the year 203, with their bishop, St. Irénée,
the greater part in these chapels.
Turning to the left, we entered the first and most ancient; a small
vaulted chamber, on whose bare walls are inscriptions copied from the
writings of the saints, and the Pagan accusations brought against them.
One of these sentences asserts, that St. Polycarpe preached here at the
age of eighty-six years. The chapel beyond was constructed a century
later; it has an arched roof, supported by ten heavy columns. A few
steps lead up to the altar built over St. Irénée’s tomb, who, it is
said, was recognised after the massacre. There is a massive stone bench
fixed against the wall on either side, and in the centre of the floor a
well of extraordinary depth. Tradition tells that these stones served
for headsman’s blocks to the assassins, and that down the well so many
bodies were thrown as to gorge it to its mouth. Some good Catholics
believe that, stooping the ear to the floor, a gushing sound is
sometimes heard, like that of bubbling blood. I confess I could hear
nothing; but the gloom of the spot is well fitted to such terrible
tales, though it is now in some degree dispelled by the construction of
a new chapel below the new church, extending behind St. Irénée’s tomb,
with bright ornaments and painted windows, having no associations of
its own, and robbing of their solemnity places indeed consecrated by
the blood of men who died for their faith there.
Beyond this chapel is another small chamber, of the same date as
itself; a recess contains a hollow stone. The caprice of the assassins
bled to death many of the martyrs, and their blood cast out here found
an issue in the streets of the faubourg. A broad stone in the centre of
the floor marks the tomb of one Marguerite Labarge, who died about
1692. There is a door in this room, opposite to that opening on the
chapel; and mounting a few steps, and climbing over rubbish in the
obscurity, we distinguished with some difficulty an aperture to which
our guide pointed, large enough for a human being to creep through, and
concealed at will by a door of stone, which when he closed I could not
distinguish from those which surrounded it. Within there is sufficient
height for a person to stand, and space to lie down. Her bed was a
stone likewise; I did not see it, (though it remains as in her time,)
for not a ray of light penetrates; she lived here nine years, having
determined on self-sacrifice at the age of thirty-six. It is presumed
that at night she left her den to walk in the adjoining chapels, and
sought there what food had been left in charity by such as revered her
for her unfortunate fanaticism; but her means of subsistence were never
exactly known. When nine years had passed, a popular commotion taking
place forced her to leave her cell. She appeared again among the
living, and, strange to say, among the sane; but, her constitution
having long resisted the want of air and necessaries, the returning to
their enjoyment seemed a worse shock, and shortly after she died. Her
family was then in straitened circumstances; some of its descendants
(become rich) are still residents in Lyons.
The Concierge laid great stress on the “Indulgences” annexed to St.
Irénée; and twice told me that any Catholic having died in “état de
grâce” for whom a mass should be said before its high altar, would be
immediately transferred from purgatory to Paradise. His information
reminding me of the coffin in the church. I asked him “who it
contained?” he answered “nobody.” A mass for the soul of a deceased
priest was performed the night before, and, knowing it was therefore
among those of the blest, he had shown some laziness in matters of less
moment, and failed to remove the pomp and circumstance. I returned to
copy the pope’s bull:—
Bref de notre très Saint Père le Pape Pie
VII., pour la perpétuelle mémoire.
“Paternellement attentif au salut de tous les hommes, nous enrichissons
quelquefois du trésor spirituel des Indulgences des lieux sacrés; pour
faire jouir les âmes des fidèles décédés des mérites de Notre Seigneur
Jésus-Christ, et des suffrages des saints, qui leur étant appliqués
peuvent, par la miséricorde de Dieu, les faire passer des peines du
Purgatoire au bonheur éternel. Voulant donc honorer par un don
particulier l’eglise paroissiale sous le vocable de St. Irénée, située
sur la montagne de ce nom, appelée le Calvaire, hors et près les murs
de la Ville de Lyon; par l’autorité que le Seigneur nous a donné, et
pleine de confiance en la miséricorde de Dieu tout puissant, en
l’autorité de ses bienheureux apôtres Pierre et Paul, nous voulons que
toutes les fois qu’un prêtre séculier ou régulier de quelque ordre,
congrégation, ou institut qu’il soit, célébrera au dit autel une messe
de mort pour l’âme d’un fidèle quelconque décédé en état de grâce,
cette même âme obtienne par voie de suffrage l’Indulgence tirée du
trésor de l’Eglise, et qu’elle soit délivrée des peines du Purgatoire
par les mérites de Notre Seigneur Jésus-Christ, de la bienheureuse
Vierge Marie, et de tous les Saints.
_Malgré tous les Réglemens contraires_, les présentes _vaudront à
perpétuité_.
Donné à Rome à St. Pierre, sous l’anneau du Pêcheur, le 13 jour de
Décembre, 1816; la 17^{eme} année de notre Pontificat.”
Pour le Cardinal Braschio de Nonestis,
G. BERNIUS, _Sous Secrétaire_.
Avons vu et permettons de mettre à exécution, et en vertu du présent
Bref voulons que le Grand Autel de l’Eglise de St. Irénée sur la
montagne jouisse du privilége.
Lyon, Juin 23, 1817.
(Signé) COURBON, _Vicaire Général_.
19th May.
We were sitting at home owing to the heat of the day, when the door
opened suddenly and our friend entered. He was just arrived from Paris,
and had found D——’s letter at the barracks, and came to seek us
instantly; we were all glad to meet again, for it had been likely that
we should never do so, as before Captain de —— went with his regiment
to occupy Ancona, from whence they are just returned, he passed four
years and a half of constant fighting in Africa. For the sake of
talking over old times, D—— has determined on remaining till the
30th: Captain de —— gave us last night some interesting details
respecting the riots which took place in Lyons in the year 1831; we
walked to the Jardin des Plantes, which from its situation, rather than
its size, is extremely beautiful. It occupies the side of the hill, and
two long flights of broad steps lead to the entrance gates; from the
nature of the ground, the garden is made in terraces, and shaded but
very steep walks lead from one to the other. In the artificial flat
made in its centre there is a basin, and in the basin a fine swan.
D—— and myself commented sometime on the apparent want of harmony
subsisting between him and his companion, before the latter issuing
from the water we discovered by the colour of his legs that he was—a
goose! The broad terrace at the summit commands the town below.
Fourvières, now on the right, and the other shore, Mont Pilatre in the
distance, and the Alps on the left, seen distinctly though delicately
through the green branches of exotics and trees just in leaf and
blossom.
Entering the gardens, the Rue de la Grande Côte is on the left,
bounding that side, for the workmen’s wretched rooms look down on it.
The street is continued far above and beyond, and issues on the Place
des Bernardines: it is so steep that a charge of cavalry having been
commanded, was found impossible, at least farther than a side-gate of
the jardin, where many of the horses fell from exhaustion and some
died. How artillery could be dragged, as it afterwards was, to the top,
it is difficult to imagine. On the Place des Bernardines, since 1831,
has been built a fortified barrack, thus separating at will Lyons from
the Croix Rousse, which is on the other side of the Barrière: at the
time of the riots no such separation existed. The Place des Bernardines
had been occupied by military from the first moment in which tumult was
expected, but evacuated by the préfet’s order, who appears to have been
strangely mistaken as to the state of the town. Our friend Captain de
—— was ordered to the Hôtel de Ville with his company about three in
the morning; the Hôtel de Ville looks on the Place des Terreaux, and is
at no great distance from the Jardin des Plantes on the town side.
Having lost some of his men, he commanded hardly more than seventy
soldiers, when he joined his colonel there.
The general and the préfet had their rendezvous at the Hôtel de Ville,
and, important as their meeting was, it seemed difficult that it should
take place, for the Place des Terreaux had gradually become thronged;
the people having commenced collecting at daylight, continued to pour
in from every issue, and more and more menacing every moment, prevented
the bataillon beyond from joining its comrades. Aware of the danger of
approaching the Hôtel de Ville, the colonel’s anxiety increased.
“What will you give me to clear the place?” asked Capt. de ——. “What
do you demand?” exclaimed the colonel. “Five minutes.”
At this time there were present certainly ten thousand, but unarmed to
all appearance, and as yet undecided as to their future movements. “Use
the butt-ends of your muskets,” said Capt. de ——; “knock down as many
as you can and pass over.” The knot of men obeyed, following himself
and his example as he headed them, distributing blows with the flat of
his sabre. The crowd opened and retreated, astonished and hardly aware
of its own strength, and bore backwards towards the steep streets and
the Croix Rousse: and the bataillon which had been unable to pass moved
across the Place des Terreaux. At this juncture it was first
recollected that the arsenal was without protection, and left to the
mercy of the mob; it had been forgotten. “Capt. ——,” said the
general, “conduct your company there immediately; if it is occupied by
the workmen, retake it; if it is still free, occupy and defend it.”
Capt. de —— marched his few men to the arsenal along the quays, and
through multitudes who covered them, not without difficulty, and
arrived in time. The Pont d’Aisnay is exactly opposite the arsenal, and
the mob, well armed, occupied the other side of the Saône, and had
raised a barricade at that end of the bridge: it was necessary that the
insurgents should remain ignorant of the weakness of the force which
was to oppose them. A piece of cannon, by Capt. de ——’s order pointed
on their barricade, in some degree served to hold them in awe, though
they kept up a pretty constant fire: they had no means of knowing that
the piece was unloaded, and the few artillerymen of National Guard, who
had joined the soldiers, were unable to manœuvre it.
During this time it had been necessary to dislodge the rioters from the
position they occupied in the Rue de la Grande Côte, and others leading
to the Croix Rousse; and here many fell, fired on from the houses, all
which the mob occupied. A man deeply regretted was the Chef de
Bataillon Martines, who received a ball in his chest, in the upper part
of the Rue de la Grande Côte, where an advancing house forms an angle.
As he fell from his horse the soldiers stopped vowing vengeance, but
saw none on whom to exercise it. The light smoke which followed the
discharge issuing from the wall of the entresol floor betrayed the
murderer, and some of the men of Martines’ company rushed into the
house. The assassin had bored a slit in the wall, and when the soldiers
caught sight of him was quietly and safely reloading. Seeing them, and
expecting no mercy, rather than wait their approach, he rushed up
stairs into a room on the third floor, and, as the soldiers who had
followed reached the door, flung himself out on the pavement. The fall
did not put an end to his existence; he was able to rise and crawl on a
few paces. It was not likely he would meet pity from men whose beloved
officer he had killed: they finished him with their bayonets. The fire
had by this time become unceasing, and poor De Martines, who had died
instantly, was necessarily left by the regiment where he fell. After
its passage the corpse was discovered on the pavement by a party of the
insurgents: he must have been a good and amiable man, for by some of
these he was recognised and deplored deeply as by his own soldiers.
They raised his body and carried it to a church, where they obliged a
priest to perform the mass for the dead; and thence, bearing it to the
burying ground, interred it with military honours, themselves firing a
volley over his grave,—these very men, and at that very time, were
towards their opponents in general guilty of the most atrocious
cruelties, torturing and drowning the wounded.
As an instance of the prevailing feeling, I may mention that a young
man had been disabled by a shot in the leg, which had however caused no
dangerous injury. He was found stretched on the pavement by a woman,
whose pity he bespoke, hoping she did not belong to the furies he had
seen maltreating his companions: wanting a weapon, she murdered him
with blows of her sabot! Still, infuriated and merciless as they were,
they in some things exhibited a feeling of wild justice: before the
doors of such manufacturers as had kept faith with them, they placed
sentinels, and lives and property were respected. Such as, on the
contrary, had broken through the agreement made, they pillaged without
remorse. Mr. Pauche has told me, that he saw in the streets piles of
silks and velvets burning. Several workmen, who attempted to carry away
plunder, were shot; and the owners, sought after with as much
perseverance as rage, barely escaped with their lives; concealing
themselves in cellars, where they remained in disguise and
half-starved, afraid to show themselves during the eight days the
workmen held possession of the town.
As I said, Capt. de —— had entered in time, and held the arsenal. The
third day the chef de bataillon, his superior officer, arrived: he
brought a proclamation, addressed to the insurgents by the préfet and
the general.
“Capt. de ——,” he said, “you must find among your men some one who
will be bearer of this, it may put a stop to the riots.”
Our friend turned to his company:—
“Is there one among you,” he said, “who, not in obedience to my order,
as I do not command it, but of his own free-will, will take charge of
this paper?” The soldiers did not answer; he repeated his question, and
they remained silent.
“Well then,” he said, “I will go myself.”
His men opposed his leaving them with all their power; they said he had
defended them for three days, and they would not suffer him to depart.
He called them cowards, took the proclamation, and went.
Between the bridge of Aisnay and the arsenal there is a little Place
belonging to the latter, and closed by its own barrier. The bridge is
no inconsiderable length; and as Capt. de —— advanced along it, and
under the fire of the barricade, he waved the paper above his head, but
it was unlikely it would neutralize the effect produced by an officer’s
uniform. Arrived at its extremity, and at the barricade which concealed
from him all that was passing behind, he leaped on and from it, and on
the other side found himself in the midst of armed men, the greater
part intoxicated. He was received, not as an envoy, but with shouts of
fury; those nearest him rested their bare knives and bayonets on his
breast, and those more distant took aim at him with their muskets: he
thought it was all over.
At this moment a young man, dressed like the others, as a workman,
forced his way to Capt. de ——, threw himself into his arms and
embraced him.
“Ah! mon pauvre lieutenant,” he exclaimed, “vous êtes perdu.” Capt. de
—— looked at him, and recognized a private of the Royal Guard who had
served in his own company before the Revolution of 1830. The affection,
so little looked for, softened him for a moment, but his firmness did
not forsake him; he took advantage of the pause.
“Stand back, and be silent,” he said, in a tone of authority; “I have
something to read to you.”
The men obeyed, half-drunk as they were, but closed round him again as
he ceased.
“Who is to answer for the execution of these promises,” they said
ferociously, “is it you?”
“You are fathers or brothers,” answered Capt. de ——; “you have others
dependent on you, and it is important that you should leave the false
position in which you have placed yourselves. As to me, a life more or
less signifies little to our cause.”
The rioters were not disposed to listen to reason, and their menaces
grew more and more alarming; but the private again interposed, and by
soothing some, and repulsing others, managed to hold them back while
his old officer again passed the barricade, which a few moments before
seemed likely to be his monument.
During the same day he had a second interview with some of the
insurgents. One of their leaders sent to request a parley; they met in
the centre of the same bridge of Aisnay, Capt. de —— alone with only
his sabre, the adverse worthy accompanied by four comrades, and armed
to the teeth. Capt. de —— desired he would order them to retire. The
other repeated his words rather scornfully: “You will either give the
command this moment,” exclaimed Capt. de ——, who was very much
exasperated, “or I will fling you over the parapet.”
The workman looked at him, and judging, I suppose, that he was
sufficiently powerful, and besides seemed quite willing to do so, he
was intimidated, and obeyed.
“And now,” said Capt. de ——, “what do you want with me?”
“You must yield the arsenal.”
“That is out of the question.”
“Then we will take it.”
“Impossible; look there,” said Capt. de ——, pointing to the empty
cannon, which had an imposing aspect behind him; “I might, had I
pleased, have exterminated you long since, I was only restrained by
mercy. Who are you who make such a demand of me?”
“I was in the Imperial Guard.”
“That is untrue,” said Capt. de ——, coolly; “an old soldier of the
empire would not act such a part, or command a drunken rabble.”
The man looked at him for a few moments, and said after a pause, “You
seem a ‘bon enfant;’ you should come and dine with us.”
“I thought the workmen were starving,” replied the officer.
“Their pockets are now full of money; we dine on the quay opposite,
(naming the auberge;) we will entertain you well.
“As you were in the Imperial Guard, you must know that a soldier cannot
quit his post; but I will, if you like, send you some one,” said Capt.
de ——.
“In that case, I give you my oath we will not attack you again
to-night.”
They parted; Capt. de —— returned to the arsenal, where he found the
ensign of his company, who had managed to join him in plain clothes. He
sent him to dine with the workmen, desiring him to eat and drink, and
bring back what information he could, but make no promises. The rioters
did not keep faith notwithstanding; they renewed their fire. At
midnight came the order for retreat; and having hid all arms and
ammunition, excepting only a few muskets, they marched from the arsenal
and the town in good order. Lyons remained in possession of the
insurgents eight days. The Duke of Orleans and Marshal Soult joined the
66th regiment outside the town. Capt. de —— received the cross of
honour from the former’s hand, and shortly after promotion. When, in
company of other troops, the 66th returned to occupy Lyons, it did so
with artillery in its front, and matches lighted, and exasperated to
such a degree, that a single shot fired by a townsman might have
changed the city to a heap of ruins.
In France tragedy and comedy are often near neighbours. The royal
family, when they go to Lyons, are always lodged at the Hôtel de
l’Europe. The Duke of Orleans was there, whether after the disturbances
of 1831, of which we have been speaking, or those of 1834, I do not at
this moment recollect, but the circumstance M. Pauche told me himself.
He is a good hearted but violent man; abuses angrily all beggars who
come to ask relief, and who listen to him with great humility, quite
sure the lecture will be closed by a shower of sous. Not being highly
educated, when excited, he swears between each sentence, and, the oath
escaped, takes off his hat and begs pardon, which lengthens a story and
renders it rather obscure.
“The Duke came with his staff,” said Monsieur Pauche, “he staid a long
time, neuf repas, (French innkeepers count time by meals;) and as I had
so much to do, ——, (the hat off,) I beg your pardon: I got my ‘pièces
montées’ from the confectioner, and being in a hurry, —— (the hat off
again,) I ran out for them myself in my cook’s costume, as you have
seen me, in my white night-cap and apron. When I arrived back at my own
porte cochère, —— (I beg your pardon,) there stood National Guards
with crossed bayonets; would not let me in again, —— (this was a
furious oath); said I, I am Pauche, and that is my hôtel, and the
Prince is waiting for his second course, and how do you think he is to
get it if you won’t let me in?” The sentries did not recognize him; it
was all in vain. “And —— and ——, said I, (the hat off a third
time,) I wish I had my kitchen carving knife.”
Finding remonstrance useless, he at last seized a national guard by the
collar, and made a forcible entry, dragging him after him to the scene
of his culinary labours.
“And now,” said Monsieur Pauche, catching up a long ladle with his free
hand, and pointing to his row of cooks, and then shaking it at the
half-choked national guard, “Now do you believe I am chez moi?”
On our return to the Hôtel de l’Europe we passed again across the Place
des Terreaux, and before the church of St. Nizier. In the latter, in
the year 1834, a terrible scene was acted; the troops having at last
obtained the mastery, the insurgents were pursued here, and two or
three hundred killed within these quiet walls. The disturbances of 1834
appear, by Monsieur Pauche’s account, to have been equally terrible,
for a time, with those of 1831. The rioters had taken up their position
on Fourvières, where they had even posted cannon. When they were at
last dislodged, a great many escaped by letting themselves drop from
the terrace wall to the vineyard below,—no slight fall, but probably
on soft ground. It was possible from the hôtel to see them execute this
manœuvre, and having performed it, slip away in safety among the
bushes. At this time there were incendiaries among the disaffected, for
Monsieur Pauche, naturally fearing for the lives of all in his hôtel,
which was just opposite Fourvières, wisely went to his country house,
and at the moment he passed saw several houses in flames between the
Place Bellecour and the Pont de la Guillotière.
You will wonder that I have yet said nothing of St. Jean, the
cathedral, yet there I have been many times. We visited it again
yesterday. The architecture of the nave is of the time of Philip
Augustus. The choir is celebrated as the spot where Gregory the Tenth
held the second council general of Lyons, in the year 1274. Its members
occupied themselves with the union of the Greek and Latin churches, and
in memory of this reconciliation two crosses, one Greek the other
Roman, were placed at the extremities of the high altar. Among the
treasures preserved by the church are the lower jaw of St. John the
Baptist, (you may remember I saw part of his skull at Amiens,) and the
small ivory horn which belonged to Roland, nephew of Charlemagne, and
Ariosto’s hero. The house of Mont d’Or, which took its name from the
fertile mountain which rises just outside Lyons, and extends into
Beaujolais, still bearing the same name, prided itself on tracing its
descent from Roland. Before 1562 this family was one of great
consequence, and the seigneurs of Mont d’Or had the right of repairing
to the abbey of St. Barbe on Ascension Day, and taking from the hands
of the abbot, who at that period had it in keeping, the famous ivory
horn, which they might twice sound and exhibit to the people. During
the war of 1562, between Catholics and Huguenots, this relic was lost,
and continued to be so during two hundred years, when it was once more
recovered, and placed in the treasury of St. Jean. In one of the side
aisles is a clock, greatly admired by the good people of Lyons—marking
hour, day, year, temperature, and I do not know what beside, and having
figures, which, when the hour strikes, perform various evolutions; it
is a frightful machine, between thirty and forty feet high. Near the
principal entrance is the beautiful chapel of the Bourbons, with its
arched and fretted roof, and fine stained glass, commenced by Charles
of Bourbon, cardinal, and archbishop of Lyons, who was godfather to
King Charles the Eighth, and who lies interred in this chapel, beneath
a white marble mausoleum; it was finished by his brother, Peter of
Bourbon, called Sire de Beaujeu, who married Louis the Eleventh’s
daughter, Anne. The motto of his house reappears everywhere: “N’espoir
ne peur.” They held ambition, as well as fear, beneath their dignity.
The delicate carving of the stonework reminded me of Scott’s
description of Melrose; for one might indeed fancy that some fairy had
wreathed the leaves and flowers and petrified them by a spell. A
circumstance concerning this cathedral I must mention to you. When the
first Villeroy, whose family has since filled honourable posts in
Lyons, was raised to the dignity of archbishop here, the members of the
chapter (who, from the third century, when they counted among their
body nine sons of kings and one of an emperor, had been men of the
proudest families of France, and styled themselves not canons, but
Counts of Lyons) demurred ere they admitted to be their archbishop, one
whose birth did not rank with theirs, as his great-grandfather was the
first of his name who had held any employ, and his father the first who
had borne a title. Notwithstanding the refusal of the counts, Louis the
Fourteenth found means to force them to obedience. When the archbishop
harangued the chapter, he took for text the words of the Psalmist:
“The stone which the builders rejected has become the headstone of the
corner.”
The discourse which followed was an insulting one for the canons, but
the dean had sufficient presence of mind to reply only by reciting the
next verse of the same psalm:
“This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.”
We re-crossed the Pont de l’Archevêché on our way to St. Nizier. Almost
behind the Hôtel de l’Europe is a “Place,” and the theatre of the
Célestins, where once stood the monastery. The family of the Pazzi,
illustrious in Florence, and the Medici’s mortal enemy, had taken
refuge in Lyons, and been followed here by many of their faction. In
the church of the Célestins they erected a superb monument; and Marie
de Médicis, on her arrival at Lyons to espouse Henry the Fourth,
visited the churches of the city, and perceived this mausoleum. In
indignation at finding so splendid a memorial of those whose ancestors
had been the assassins of some of her own, she commanded it to be
broken, and only a few of its ornaments escaped destruction. Not far
from the Célestins there formerly stood another monastery, that of the
Jacobins, or Dominicans. Humbert de la Tour, last sovereign prince of
Dauphiny, ceded his province to Philip of Valois, in despair at the
death of his only son, André. It was said he had been its cause; for
that sojourning at Lyons, and playing with his child at a window which
overlooked the Rhone, the boy slipped from his arms, and fell into the
rapid river.
In the year 1345 Pope Clement the Sixth preached a second crusade.
Humbert obtained the command of this expedition, and embarked at
Marseilles with his wife, who insisted on sharing his fatigues and
dangers. On their return from the Holy Land, where he had been
successful against the Saracens, she died at Rhodes, and some time
after this second loss he took the vows in the Dominican monastery at
Lyons, and was afterwards prior of the Jacobin convent in Paris.
The outside of St. Nizier has been partly modernized. Within, it is
remarkably beautiful. We found a procession of priests and children,
who had made their “première communion” in the morning. The little
girls marched first very peaceably, and looking pretty, with white
frocks and veils; of the foremost ten chosen for good conduct, the
first carried a silver crucifix, beneath a miniature tent bed, from
whose top depended long white ribands, which the remaining nine held.
After the girls came the boys, ignoble looking ragamuffins, not having
the advantage of veils to hide their sunburnt faces, pushing for their
places, and squabbling for the streamers in a way not edifying. The
male and female troop joined in the psalm with the priests and enfans
de chœur, making altogether an indescribable howl.
I mentioned to you the votive offerings I have remarked in some
Catholic chapels, but nowhere have I seen them abound as in one here
dedicated to Ste. Philomène; the walls are literally covered. Among a
multitude of dolls’ heads, hands, and arms, I noticed a garland of
artificial roses, framed and glazed; this was entitled, “Vœu de
Reconnaissance.” A little picture beside it represented a little lady
in blue, kneeling by a red bed, looking to an angle of the ceiling,
where stood (air-supported) a saint, crowned, and wearing a gold
petticoat; below, “Vœu à Ste. Philomène.”
The grandest of the water-colour drawings was the “Chasse Miraculeuse
de Ste. Philomène.” Its upper part was divided into various small
compartments, each representing an episode of her life. In the first
she stands before a tribunal, below, “Jugée;” in the second, tied to a
tree, stuck all over with arrows, below, “Percée;” in the third,
tumbling over a bridge, below, “Précipitée;” in the fourth, taken out
of the torrent, and her head cut off, below, “Décapitée.” At the bottom
of the picture she is placed on the Chasse Miraculeuse, finely dressed
and her eyes open, I presume all attempts to murder her having failed.
The Place des Terreaux is at no great distance from the church of St.
Nizier. The Hôtel de Ville forms one side; in its vestibule are two
fine groups in bronze, by Couston:—the Rhone, a majestic male figure,
resting on a lion; the Saône, gentle as her own course, couched on a
lioness. The chief interest of the Place des Terreaux for us was, in
its recollections of the death of De Thou and De Cinq Mars, who
perished here on the scaffold, one like a saint, the other like a
Roman.[2]
The weather has suddenly changed from oppressive heat to the bitter
north-east winds which accompanied us here. I suppose the heat took
leave on the wings of last night’s thunder-storm.
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Footnote 2:
See Appendix.