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From this grey front, with its pedestalled and the savant Huet, Bishop of Avranches, has decanopied statues, its clustering foliage, its gal-clared to be, to all other gothic temples, what leries looking like frozen lace-work, so delicately St. Peter's at Rome is to modern churches of traced, so exquisitely executed, one reads in the first order. epitome the history and religion of its epoch; and the whole appears a poem written with a pen of iron on tablets of stone, descriptive of the ideas, the belief, and manners of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, that darksome period, before the printing-press renewed, as it were, the miracle of the descent of tongues, when men were only taught through the medium of their ears and eyes. Hence the sculptured lessons from holy writ, the lives of the saints, Esop's Fables, and the terrible dream (as a French writer calls it) of the last judgment, which compose the numerous tableaur, filling the trefoilshaped medallions which decorate the tympans of the three western porches-handwritings onthe-wall, which all who entered must have read, and which, in any other character than hieroglyphic, would have proved heathen Greek to nearly if not all the ancient Amienoise.

In antique times, our sex would have barred our approaching the sanctuary on this side save through the "porte de la mère de Dieu," that in the centre ("la porte du Sauveur") being set apart for the bishop and priests; and that of St. Firman, on the left hand, for the male portion of the congregation; the sexes, as was usual in the early churches, remaining separate within the building-a custom still continued in many of the village churches of France, and not wholly exploded with ourselves, even in the heart of London, as those of our readers who have attended service in the Temple Church will recollect.*

Tier upon tier of saints and angels are ranged within the arches of these porches, and from thence to the topmost pinnacle of the roof this portion of the superstructure presents a mass of fretwork, foliage, and imagery, so elaborate in design, so wonderful in workmanship, that the eye longs for some space less ornate to rest upon, and the head grows giddy in the vain attempt to concentrate our contemplation of it. But when this is effected, how untiringly we gaze upon the grave beauty of the virgins, coldly folded in their stony robes-the sweet serenity of the Madonna's looks-the simple grandeur of the saints, mythically treading upon sin in the shape of demons, and the elegantly trefoiled gallery from which the sceptred kings* are gazing down!

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It is said that a hundred years passed by, between the completion of the body of the church and the finishing of this portion of it, one of the principal features of which is the grand round window, the western rose, or rose de mer," as it is called, from its position, looking towards St. Valery and the sea; and crowned, as it were, by the exquisitely sculptured terrace, running breast high between the unequal towers which terminate the principal façade.

There are also three entrances in the south façade of the cathedral, the most remarkable of which is the porch of St. Christopher, whose colossal statue, holding in his hand a metal baton, and bearing (à califourchon) the infant Jesus on his shoulders, appears beside it. It was anciently believed, that whoever looked upon the image of this Christian Hercules, should be preserved from accident and sudden death; and hence he was always represented of prodigious size, and placed at the most frequented entrance of Catholic churches, that the faithful might perceive him afar off.

Nodier tells us that the people of Amiens still regard this statue as endowed with supernatural virtues, and the old belief in them is referred to in the following distich:

"Christophorum aspicias, postea tutus eris." There is yet another entrance on the north side of the church, to which some interest attaches-the "porte de St. Firman the Confessor" -by which the bishops anciently made their first entrée into the episcopal palace, and never more passed but to their sepulchre.

An antiquary has noticed this ceremony in connection with one which, for aught we know to the contrary, may still exist at Sardam-one of the richest and most beautiful villages in Holland, where the principal door of each house was only twice opened for the wife-on the day of her nuptials, to admit her to the bridal chamber; and on the day after her death, to conduct her to the tomb.

which retains the outline of a Pagan prototype.

How we linger to admire this cordon of laceMany other usages of the middle ages will like granite; the tissue of flowers that extend present themselves, by association, to the visitor from one extremity to the other; the bouquets of Notre Dame d'Amiens, illustrating how truly budding in stone! Even the dog and lion, and the pre-nomen Roman attaches to the papal rehideous ape leaning from the front, and mask-ligion, almost every rite and superstition of ing the water-spouts, are not without some interest; and the whole scarcely fades from the imagination, when we pass through one or other of the three grand portails, and stand wrapt and astonished, our heart throbbing, our reason half afraid, beneath the vaulted roof, and delicately clustered pillars of this famous basilique, which

* Some antiquarians believe these personages to represent the royal ancestors of the Virgin, and not the kings of France.

Leaving the porte of St. Firman the Confessor, we followed, though too late to experience its full effect, the advice of M. Goze, and were led with closed eyes to the steps of the choir, from which central elevation the view of the boldly vaulted roof, suspended as it were above the light and lofty pillars, is more imposing than from any other point. Here, turning our back The same custom exists in China.

upon the grill which separates the choir, we commanded all that portion of the interior, which preserves in its noble simplicity the sublime conception of Edward de Fouilloy and the perfect work of Robert de Luzarches, and discovered at the same time the three roses-those glorious eyes of the edifice-that of the sea facing us above the organ, and the others right and left lighting the transepts. It is thought that these exquisite windows are of a much later date than the body of the church itself; but though the arms of the Coquerels, an ancient family of Amiens, glow amidst the numerous flowers that fill the compartments of the Rose de mer, antiquaries have failed to find the period of its creation, which might possibly fix the date of the other two.

We find a Firman de Coquerel born at Amiens of a noble family, bishop of Noyon, in 1348, and chancellor of France in the reign of Philip VI.; and as the testimony of the archeologists disproves the assertion hazarded by more than one writer on the subject, that it was given as early as 1241 by Jean de Coquerel, ancient mayor of Amiens, it is probable that it was the offering of this ecclesiastic, the difference of time accounting for its complicated blossoms, and style flamboyant; which also characterizes the Rose (du Midi) in the left transept, which blushes through its twenty-four petals with exquisite effect.

But the most beautiful of all is the great star of five rays, the Rose du Nord over the portal de l'Evêche, the painted glass of which is admirable for its variety and richness of colouring; angels, a king, and bishop, with various fish, and sea shells, are blazoned on it, and it is said to be typical of the sea, as the red colour which prevails in the last emblemed fire, and the first, with its flowers and plumage, earth and air: when the sun on a bright day falls on these roses, they have the effect of a grand prism, and scatter on the chequered pavement and against the columns and pillars of the nave a mosaic of brilliant shades.

It is traditionally said that the vitreur entrusted with the workmanship of the roses in the cross, having confided the execution of the northern one to the skill of his son, was so enraged at finding himself surpassed in his art that he precipitated himself to the pavement, and so died; "a proof," says the writer from whom we quote the legend, "of the enthusiasm of the people in the middle ages, in the work of the Christian fine arts, but very unsatisfactory one, we think, of the vitality of Christian feeling.

Besides these three rose windows, numerous others, filled with exquisite tracery, and opaque with paintings, admit that clair obscure, that demi-jour we love to meet in edifices dedicated to divinity, and which, while tempering the mind with a gentle melancholy, predisposes it to devotion.

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again: it occupies little or no time, and seemst o come in the way of their vocations: a marketwoman sets down her basket, a porter his parcel; and you see them one moment on their knees beside you, and the next they have pushed back their clairs, and you catch a glimpse of them dipping a finger in a benetoire, and they are gone: both have made a short cut from the Rue St. Denis through the cathedral to the Place St. Firman.

Even during the celebration of high mass, persons walk about and talk as if they knew nothing about it, or cared less; while those engaged in attending to it, seem perfectly unmoved by the whispering of visitors, the clatter of sabots, or the occasional jingling of cavalry spurs and sabre.

In the intervals of service (we are especially speaking of Sunday), the scene grows very curious, more animated, and less objectionable. Soldiers, ladies, artists; peasant-women thin and sunburnt, with their heads frightfully coffeured in red or yellow handkerchiefs; men in blue blouses, beguines in their strange white caps; tourists, singing-boys, a priest in full canonicals, and others in their long black robes, pass to and fro; while over all, scintillating with a thousand colours, richer and more gorgeous in their combinations than the most brilliant displays of the chromoscope, shines in the glory of the three great roses.

From the steps of the choir, the chairs clustered and grouped around the base of the gigan tic pillars, look like toad-stools that have sprung up at the roots of mighty forest-trees ; and the people walking between these lofty arcades of architecture, the pigmies that were fabled to have used them.

On other days we have sat within this grand interior, undisturbed save by the footfall of a contemplative stranger like oneself, or the sighing of some bereaved woman at the foot of the altar, "privileger pour les âmes du Purgatoire," or the prayers of an expectant mother at the shrine of St. Margaret (the Lucina or Egeria of the Catholic church), in whose protection the women of Amiens continue with confidence to believe;* till the ringing of the mass-hell, or the burly voices of the chanters within the boiserie, or “cloíture du chœur,” dispersed for the moment the shadowy reminis cences gathered from six hundred centuries of time, and compressed into a mental vision occupying scarcely as many seconds: events long since lapsed into legends-princes who centuries ago went down, crowned and robed, to the chamber of death-pilgrims, penitents, warriors, to pay their vows kings, to swear peace with other kings, or oaths of marriage fealty to fair princesses.

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How suggestive of such waking dreams these aisles become! What misty groups steal through them! Was it there, we wonder, on the site of St. Firman's shrine, that St. Salve beheld the

Nodier.

celestial fire, moving sun-like to the place where the relics of the martyr rested, and perceived the divine odour, which, spreading thence to Tournay, Cambrai, Noyon, and Beauvais, brought the people hence in procession to Amiens, to witness the double miracle of the change of season, which on the day of the saint's translation melted the ice of winter, and spread the face of the earth with flowers, and the trees with leaves and fruit? Was it through that very side-door, on the left of the choir, that henceforth on the 12th of January (the anniversary of the Invention of St. Firman) the man in green ("l'homme vert") made his entrance during the “magnificat," clad in a tunic of green leaves, and holding in his hand a cierge wreathed with flowers, and who, after saluting the altar and the choir while the nouveau feu was being blessed, presented to each of the canons a crown of flowers in a silver basin? Both these ceremonies had reference to the miracles of the supernatural heat and efflorescence in mid-winter; and it was not until 1727 that the noise occasioned by the arrival of "l'homme vert" caused the chapter to suppress the ceremony. It was also to perpetuate these events that "les enfants du chœur" (the chanters and vicars) were in winter for a long time habited in green.

There appears to have been something provocative of church building in the bones of St. Firman. His namesake, the "confessor," built the first church in the diocese of Amiens, on the site of his place of sepulchre; and when St. Salve thus miraculously found his body under the altar of the Abbey of St. Acheul, he immediately constructed a new church to deposit the remains in, which stood on the actual site of the present cathedral. It suffered the usual fate of wooden buildings, being burnt by the Normans, and when rebuilt was three successive times destroyed by fire-a sufficient reason for Evrard de Fouilloy's desire to raise the present superb and apparently indestructible fabric.

It is worthy of remark, that amidst all these conflagrations the remains of the saint had been preserved an event which, joined to the miraculous discovery of the head of John the Baptist, by Walon de Sarton, a gentleman of Picquieny who had taken the cross, and who in the course of some archæological researches in the ruins of an old palace at Constantinople came upon the relic, roused the already lively faith of the Amienoise to the most exalted fervour, and enabled the bishop, by the profusion of their gifts, to commence his magnificent project.

It is an attribute of the church of Rome, that miracles are never wanting when ordinary means fail to bring about the accomplishment of its requirements: and nothing could have been more fortunate for the undertaking than this opportune discovery. Henceforth, when the funds collected by Evrard and his successors were expended, recourse was had to solemn processions, in which these relics of the saints were carried in carved and gilded arks-pageants which never failed to reanimate the enthusiasm

of the people, and to fill the coffers of the church to overflowing.

The nobles gave of their lands, the workmen of their earnings, the very beggars laid down the alms they had received, and the shepherds of the country brought in the fleece-white stones which make the cordons of the vaulted roof, and are still called, in memory of them, "Pastouraux."

It was in the time of Arnault (Bishop of Amiens, 1240) that the most imposing of these processions took place, the zeal of this dignitary in the building of the temple being only less remarkable than the means he occasionally resorted to, to assist it. It was during his episcopacy that the chapels which deform the chaste beauty of the original plan were commenced; and their origin affords too curious an illustra tion of the undisciplined manners of the age, and the unlimited power of the church, to be passed over without observation. It is of little consequence to the sequel which of the two readings of the cause is correct—whether, as some say, the daughter of the Bailli of Amiens, Geoffrey de Milly, was met by certain clerks in a wood near the city, and abused by them; or whether, on the other hand, they surprised the lady there with her lover, and spread reports injurious to her fame. In either case the Bailli had them seized; and those who survived the rough treatment of the sergens des veille (for one or two died in La Malmaison of their wounds) he hanged, without the form of a trial or the privilege of confession. M. Goze slurs over the circumstances, and Nodier does but glance at it, limiting the unhappy clerks to three; whereas the letter of Arnault, which is on record, distinctly speaks of five. If the conduct of the Bailli appears fiercely cruel, and wanting in all that should dignify his high office, we must remember his probable provocation, and also that had he dealt less summarily with the criminals, the church under whose protection they were would have shielded them from secular punishment. And now let us hear what mercy is in the sentence of the churchman, unruffled by anger, unmoved by the passion of revenge, that had rendered Geoffrey de Milly remorseless.

Not having the power of death over the Bailli, who numbers amongst his relatives-forbidden to interfere with the execution of the sentencesome of the most influential of the surrounding Noblesse, Arnault proceeds to sentence De Milly to appear on the afternoon of the following Saturday, an hour before vespers are chaunted, bare-footed and with bare arms, a halter round his neck, and his hands tied behind his back, "comme il est accoutumé de lier les larrons que l'on mene au gibet."

As the ancient Bailliage is said to have occupied the site of La Malmaison, where Geoffrey was first to make his appearance, it is probable that his residence was near, or made part of this prison, from which he was to be led, to the forks or cross of the gibbet, "at après s'étre un peu repose au dit gibet," to turn back by the church of St. Montain, where, having his hands released

he was to take up "l'un des corps des cinq clercs avec un suare de fin lin," which he himself was to bear on his shoulders into the mistress church, solemnly and devoutly, and thence carry it to the cemetery near St. Denis.

On the four following days, with the same degrading particulars, he was to perform this revolting process with the bodies of the other four; after which, "nuds pieds, nuds bras, le hart au col, et les mains licés par derrière le dos," he was to present himself at the church of Rheims, and others in the province, and at those of Rouen, Paris, and Orleans, and in this condition assist at the solemn processions on the Sabbath or fête-days; when none were to close around him to obstruct his being seen, but at each procession a lecture was to be made on the enormity of his crime and the judgment passed on him. And in order to assure the Bishop that he had submitted to all these pains and penalties, he was to bring back letterspatent from the chapters of the different churches, sealed with their seals, and testifying to his having suffered these inflictions.

Then follows a rider on behalf of the church: and in order that some memoir of the event may remain, to deter others from presuming to do the same, or worse, it is ordained that five silver basins, each of the weight of five marcs, be fabricated and wrought at the expense of the said Geoffrey; who is further to cause five cierges of wax (each to contain three pounds) to burn continually before the shrines of the saints in the church de Notre Dame d'Amiens, and to assign a competent revenue to maintain these cierges in perpetuity. And finally-for the Bishop has not yet done with him-"that the day following the feast of the nativity de Seigneur St. Jean Baptiste," the said Geoffrey take upon himself the voyage "de la terre saint au sepulchre de Notre Seigneur en Jerusalem," and not return to the town till all these things were accomplished; nor then, without the consent of the bishop and chapter. "Fait et prononcé le dit jour du lendemain du elle festi de St. Andre s'an 1244." The Bailli (such was then the superstitious dread of priestly power, even on the part of the most puissant personages) is said to have submitted to this singular sentence with exemplary resignation; but one feels no surprise when we read that, being deposed from his office by St. Louis, he became reduced to extreme poverty, and languished through the remainder of his life.

In the meanwhile the mayor and echevins, who had permitted the arrest and execution of the five clerks, were condemned to build six chapels to the cathedral; and this was the commencement of them.

Here then came Geoffrey de Milly, with naked feet, and all the insignia of a malefactor, bearing his ghastly burden in its winding-sheet, and standing, as penitents were wont to do, within the portal of St. Christopher, till bidden to take up the corpse, and bear it to its place of burial. Five vespers out of seven, in a summer's week, saw the door darken with the shadows of the

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living and the dead, and the sanctity of the solemn fane polluted by an act the savour of which nor myrrh nor frankincense has wholly sweetened.

But another century rolls on, and the mistress church becomes the centre of devout attraction. The miraculous image, found in the sea near the little town of Rue, and presented by St. Salve to the church of Amiens, adorns his chapel-it is there still, black with age, and reminiscent of the times when the boatnien of the Somme carried it in procession on the fête of the Ascension, crowned, after the fashion of the Gnostics, with flowers; but while that of St. Firman, frequented by the newly married, possesses peculiar sacredness for the youth of the city who have the privilege of bearing his shrine on the day of his fête, kings come hither to salute the sacred head of John the Baptist, and to crown it, as did the beautiful Isabelle de Beauvais, with gold and jewels. The precious circlet, with its wreath of pure pearls, like the passion inspired by the fair donor in the heart of Charles the well-beloved, has long since perished; but who doubts that either did exist? The chapter has kept record of the one; and the written avowal of the monarch himself "Je ne pourrais dormir que ne l'ai epousseé"-preserves the other. It was in deference to this rare conjugal sentiment in kings that their marriage was arranged hastily, and without the ceremonies observed at regal weddings, and Isabella became his consort at the high altar before us.

Years afterwards-on the 22nd of January, 1421-Henry the Fifth of England brought hither his wife Catherine, their youngest daughter, Shakespeare's "fair Fleure de Luce," to make prayers in the church in which her mother had been married. And here, too, took place that famous réunion of kings and princes, archbishops, bishops, and barons, when Louis XI. arbitrated the quarrels of the unhappy son of the soldier king, Henry VI., and the great men of his empire.

On previous occasions these walls had witnessed the oaths of Edward III. and Philip of Valois, as well as the reconciliation of Charles VI. with Richard of England. Here also came John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, Admiral of England, and Chamberlain of Henry VIII., to offer a silver statue to the Virgin; and it was at the foot of yonder altar that Henry IV., on his triumphant entry into the city, hastened to prostrate himself and return thanks to the God of battles. Upon all these occasions the chef de St. Jean Baptiste was not forgotten, and centuries upon centuries beheld the bowing down of rank and unlearned talent at the shrine of a supposititious head, and a carved image, whose sanctity rested on the traditions of its unknown origin. The relic of St. John, which the piety of Isabelle of Bavaria. laid in a golden dish bordered with jewels, consists of part of a head, with the mark of a wound near the left eye; said to have been made by the knife of Herodias. The top is covered with a cap of silver gilt (encircled in its palmy days with precious stones), and the whole covered

with a crystal in the shape of a head, surrounded with an appearance of gems; amongst which, in the times we have alluded to, shone conspicuous the rubis-balie of Louis XI.

In modern times, when the reaction came, and the same people who for ages had submitted to the mental serfdom of the church of Rome, suddenly and fiercely threw off its dominance, and lapsed into materialism or utter unbelief-when, in this very city, the infant Jesus became converted into the axe of a lictor, and la Sainte Vierge by the same stroke into the goddess of Liberty, when this magnificent pile itself narrowly escaped being transformed to a temple of Reason-these shrines became objects of pillage and desecration; and though on the surface of outward forms and ceremonies, things have returned to their former bearing, the old enthusiasm has passed, and at present people visit them as matters of curiosity-not devotion. And though an old woman sits constantly replenishing the shrine of the miraculous image with miserable tapers, which are always going out (and for the purchase of which she begs from everyone who approaches her), it is but little frequented by devotees; while the perpetual daily mass, founded by Louis XI. in honour of the chef de St. Jean Baptiste, has long since ceased; and the altars most popular at present are those dedicated, under so many different titles, to Notre Dame.

Gazing on the exquisite statues of the Virgin which adorn them, one can but remember old Scaliger's expression with regard to the religion of Ireland-that it was Popery, but Popery mingled with Paganism; and think that he might have applied the phrase, with as much truth, nearer home. In the centre chapel of the choir she is represented on tiptoe, with cherubs at her feet; and others projected from the azure background, which is studded with golden stars: her face uplifted, one hand elevated, her hair gathered in loose curls behind, her robes floating lightly round her, her throat and neck greatly discovered, and the drapery altogether managed so as to exhibit a voluptuous form rather than the chaste bearing of la sainte Vierge. It is beautiful; but it is the beauty of a Venus: and the winged cherubs at her feet are but cupids under another name. Even to the classic cestus fastening her gracefully-flowing robes the likeness is preserved-all is provocative of admiration; but we cannot for so delicious a lady feel other than human devotion. And the same may be said of the other exquisite sculptures which represent her under her various characteristics, and create a sort of Pantheonism out of the worship of one and the same being. There is nothing Christian about them; they are the Déesses of old Rome transported to a temple of the middle ages, and throw the light of their beauty strangely enough through the grandly simple aisles of the cathedral.

In this slight sketch we cannot more than glance at the most salient objects that interested us; but it is impossible to forget the monument of the good chanoine Guillaume Lucas, and le

petit plureur of the sculptor Blasset, to look on which is to weep-so much of infantile grief is in its face. It is curious to observe its effect upon the gazers, who stand rivetted with a painful attention before this touching memorial of the founder of "l'Ecole des Orphelins;" and the more we regard it, the more abundantly the tears of the little naked child appear to flow. There is a story told of this canon, which methinks shows the practical character of the man to admiration. When the Spaniards took possession of Amiens, notwithstanding their common faith and the sacredness of the church and those in charge of it, they imposed a heavy sum of money on the chapter; to pay which they were about to take down the bells of the cathedral, when Lucas proposed to dispose of the Christ and twelve apostles of silver instead, which ornamented the high altar; whereupon it passed into a saying with the people, that Master Guillaume Lucas "a fait pis que Judas, car il vendri Dieu et ses douze apôtres." In his time, and long after, a white dove with a bunch of lighted tow in its beak, came out of the roof and flew round the church on the day of Pentecost, in memory of the descent of the Holy Spirit! * And it was still customary for twelve boys, habited as angels, to march before the sacrament, throwing flowers in the way.†

In retracing our steps through the nave, we are reminded by the irregularly chequered pavement of the "Mason de Dalus," or antique labyrinth which anciently existed here, and by traversing which, and repeating certain prayers, those who found it inconvenient to undertake as a penance the voyage to the Holy Land compromised the matter. Here, too, we perceive (for there is no taking a step without treading, as it were, upon some antique usage) the low stone bench running round the walls of the church-the only seat which the grave austerity of the period of its foundation allowed within the fabric, and this only for the aged and infirm. The stalls in the choir for the canons and vicars were another matter-and with these, by the way, we cannot part without a word. Who that has looked upon them can forget their curiously wondrous carved work, quaint and whimsical, even when embodying graver subjects? Witness the way in which the trite lesson on life's vanity is rendered by the fine lady who complaisantly regards herself in the mirror; while a cavalier, on the other side, holds up a death's head! And what a satire on clerical hypocrisy (pungent in its biting humour as anything that Chaucer, or Roy, or Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, afterwards subscribed in verse towards the dawn of the Reformation) is the representation of the fox preaching to the fowls, one of which he has hidden in the folds of his capuchin. Yes, even there, within the church itself, was felt the want of sincerity and

truth, even as it is still felt.

Some of these representations are so ludi-
* Suppressed in 1721.
+ This only fell off in 1751.

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