The Basilica of St. Saturnin.
My journey to the ancient and religious city of Toulouse was made in a season of sorrow. I was in the fearful grasp of giant Despair, whose whips were as scorpions urging me on. Every step in this sorrowful way was a torture, because it widened the distance between me and a past which could never return. I felt like those poor souls in Dante's Inferno, whose heads were placed backward, so their tears fell on their shoulders. So my heart was looking ever back—back, with sorrowful eyes, as if the future held no consolation in store. O soul of little faith! encompassed by thy black cloud, absorbed in thy griefs, thou seest not the brightness beyond the darkness that enfolds thee! Journeying on with weary steps, I found in my way a cross. I was already laden with one—seemingly overwhelming—which the past had bequeathed to me, and I was about to turn aside from this material cross I had stumbled upon, when I called to mind a traveller of the olden time who found, like me, a cross in his pathway. Not satisfied with kneeling before it, he caught it up and pressed it to his heart. What should he find but a precious treasure concealed beneath! Such a treasure I found beneath the great Latin cross known as St. Saturnin or St. Sernin's church at Toulouse—a treasure I took to my heart, which it continues to enrich, and hallow, and beautify. I turned aside from my weary path to find consolation and rest in this great cruciform temple, and not in vain. O little isle of peace in an ocean of sorrow! how sweetly did the hours pass in thy serene atmosphere! The Vade in pace came to my soul like the sun after a great tempest, restoring brightness and freshness to my world. A thousand tender and holy emotions floating around, like the birds in the arches of Notre Dame de Paris; came nestling to my heart. At such moments
"The eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache."
But it is not my intention to indulge here in any display of personal emotion. I only wish, in gratitude for many holy memories, to note down a few of the impressions I received in a sacred place, and mention in a simple way some of the objects that interested me particularly, but not as a connoisseur of Christian art.
I am sure no one has ever lived in Catholic countries without feeling thankful that there is one door ever open to the passer-by, with its mute appeal to sinful, sorrowing humanity to enter and lay down its burden. It is the door of God's house, which rejects no one—always open, reminding us that the All-Father is ever ready to receive us. Who can resist the appeal? How many a poor peasant have I seen, with care on the brow, turn aside for a moment into a church, lay down the basket of provisions or utensils for a brief prayer, and then go on his way refreshed! These ever-open churches are like fountains by the wayside, where the heated and foot-worn traveller may find rest and a cooling draught, without money and without price. Ah! who would close thy gates, O house of prayer? As the poet says: "Is there, O my God! an hour in all life when the heart can be weary of prayer? when man, whom thou dost deign to hear in thy temple, can have no incense to offer before thy altar, no tear to confide to thee?"
Even the undevout cannot pass one of the grand old churches of the middle ages with indifference; especially one like the basilica of St. Sernin, with so many historic and religious memories connected with it, and which seems to appeal to every instinct of our nature. Entering this great church by the western portal, I could not forget that through it had passed three Roman pontiffs and many a king of France. Pope Urban II., returning from the Council of Clermont, where the first crusade had been decided upon, came, in the year of our Lord 1096, to consecrate this church, built on the ruins of two others. Some days after came Count Raymond de St. Gilles, the hero of the Holy Wars, to pray before the tomb of St. Saturnin, followed by princely vassals, before reviewing the one hundred thousand soldiers at the head of whom he opened a passage to the Holy Sepulchre. His two noble sons, Bertrand and Alphonse Jourdain, likewise passed through the same door, preceded by their family banner, before going, like their glorious father, to die in the Holy Land. Simon de Montfort, of Albigensian memory, before being invested with the comté of Toulouse, came here to kneel before the tombs of the apostles and martyrs. Among the kings of France, Philippe-le-Hardi came here four times. Charles VI., Louis XI., Louis XIII., and Louis le Grand also rendered homage to the saints herein enshrined. Above all, Saint Bernard, St. Dominick, and many other renowned saints trod these pavements and prayed under these arches! …
Some may think lightly of these associations, and say,
"A man's a man for a' that;"
but there are no greater hero-worshippers than the Americans; none love a title more than a stanch republican; and I, a Hebrew of the Hebrews! frankly own to this little weakness. I love the grand old names and titles. I look with curiosity and respect on the footprints of kings and crusaders, and even of knights of low degree, and I tread with reverence the stones the blessed saints have trod. …
St. Sernin's church, built in imitation of St. Paul's at Rome, is of the Latin style, cruciform in shape, terminating, in pious memory of the five sacred wounds of our Saviour, with five chapels toward the holy East; for the orientation is carefully fixed, as in all ancient churches. There are five naves in this church, separated by four rows of majestic pillars. It is rare to find these collateral naves.
On entering this church, one is profoundly impressed by the majestic arches and the length of the grand nave with the double row of arcades on each side. A mysterious light, coming one hardly knows whence, is diffused through the multiplied arches, disposing the soul to calmness and meditation. The long naves all seem, through the converging rows of columns, to point to that altar in the distance where is seen the twinkling light that ever burns before the tabernacle, drawing one on like a powerful magnet. The Christian heart feels the influence of a Presence diffused, like the light before IT, throughout the vast enclosure.
Thoreau, who only worshipped nature, impressed by the religious atmosphere of a great Catholic cathedral, said such a vast cave at hand in the midst of a city, with its still atmosphere and sombre light disposing to serious, profitable thought, is worth thousands of our (Protestant) churches which are open only on Sundays. "I think," says he, "of its value, not only to religion, but to philosophy and poetry: besides a reading-room, to have a thinking room in every city!" And who can tell the influence, not only on the mind and heart, but on the taste, of such a church with its paintings, statuary, holy emblems, and antique shrines which have for ages been the glory of one's city, and intimately connected with its past history?
The most striking object, on entering the principal nave, is the tomb of St. Sernin, raised in the air on the uplifted heads of four gilded bulls. Over it is a baldaquin on which is represented the apotheosis of the saint. The whole is richly gilded, and, when lighted up, has a brilliant effect.
Ossa Sancti Saturnini,
in large gilded letters, is inscribed on the sarcophagus. At first the taureaux puzzled me. I thought of the bulls of Bashan—of the cattle upon a thousand hills—and of the sacrifices of the old law, but I could not see their connection with St. Saturnin. But in recalling his martyrdom I found the solution of my perplexity.
St. Sernin, the apostle and first Bishop of Toulouse, was sent by Pope St. Fabian, in the third century, to carry the light of faith into Gaul. His success in the conversion of the people to Christianity so infuriated the priests of Jupiter and Minerva, who were specially worshipped in the capital of Toulouse, that they one day seized him, and, on his refusing to sacrifice to the gods, attached him to the feet of an infuriated wild bull, who leaped down the hill, dashing out the brains of the saint. Two holy women gathered together his remains, but the place of their burial was known only to a few till after the triumph of the Christian religion in the empire of Rome. An oratory was erected over his tomb in the fourth century, and later a church rose which was completed by the great St. Exuperius, the seventh successor of St. Sernin in the see of Toulouse—that saint so renowned for his charities and learning, and whose remains are enshrined in this church. He was the friend of St. Jerome, who corresponded with him, and dedicated to him his commentary on the prophecies of Zachary. St. Exuperius even sold the sacred vessels of the altar to feed his flock during a great famine, so the Body of Christ had to be carried in an osier basket, and a chalice of glass was used in the service of the altar—a chalice carefully preserved by a grateful people till the Revolution of 1793.
One loves to recall, among the many sainted bishops of Toulouse, that "flower of royal blood," Louis of Anjou, grand-nephew of St. Louis, King of France, and nephew of the dear St. Elizabeth of Hungary. At the age of twenty-one he was offered a kingdom, which he refused in favor of his brother, wishing to consecrate himself to God among the Franciscans. "Jesus Christ is my kingdom," said he. "Possessing him, I have all things: without him, I have nothing." He was ordained priest at the age of twenty-two, and obliged by holy obedience to accept the see of Toulouse. Before receiving episcopal consecration he made a pilgrimage to Rome and took the habit of St. Francis. The Toulousains received him with magnificence as a prince, and revered him as a saint. Like St. Exuperius, he was devoted to the poor, to whom he gave the greater part of his revenues. Every day he fed twenty-five poor men at his table and served them himself, sometimes on his knees. Terrified by the obligations of his office, he begged to be released from them, and God granted what men denied. During his last sickness, he exclaimed: "I have at last arrived in sight of the desired haven. I am going to enjoy the presence of my God, of which the world would deprive me." He died with the Ave Maria on his lips, at the age of twenty-three and a half years.
What renders the basilica of St. Sernin one of the most remarkable and one of the holiest spots in the world, after Jerusalem and Rome, is the number of the saints herein enshrined. The counts of Toulouse brought back from the Holy Land many relics which they obtained in the East. Thus a great part of the body of St. George was brought from Palestine by William Taillefer, eighth Count of Toulouse. Kings of France also endowed this church with relics. Those of St. Edmund, King of England, were brought to France by Louis VIII. The crypts in which most of these relics are contained are intended to recall the catacombs of Rome. In the eleventh century they were not in shrines or reliquaries, but reposed in marble tombs, and the faithful went to pray before them, as in the crypts of St. Calixtus on the Appian Way. Over the door leading into the upper crypts is the inscription, "Hic sunt vigiles qui custodiunt civitatem," and over the door of the pilgrims, "Non est in toto sanctior orbe locus." This door leads to the inferior crypts, which you descend by a flight of steps. The numerous pilgrims of the middle ages paused on each step to repeat a prayer. Thus they passed on into the numerous passages of the crypts, recalling the catacombs. As you go down into them, you pause amid your prayers to read an inscription, in red letters, on a white marble tablet:
"Under the auspices, and by the pious munificence of the emperors Charlemagne, Louis le Débonnaire, and Charles le Chauve, the wonderful basilica of Saturnin has received the precious remains of several apostles and of a great number of martyrs, virgins, and confessors of the faith. The dukes of Aquitaine, the counts of Toulouse, have increased this treasure. The magistrates of this capital have faithfully guarded it.
"Here Religion preserves for the eternal edification of the faithful a portion of the cross of our Lord, a thorn from his crown, (the gift of Count Alphonse, brother of St. Louis,) a fragment from the rock of the Holy Sepulchre, (glorious conquest of the Toulousain crusaders.) and a piece of a garment of the Mother of God.
"Under these vaults, O pious traveller! are venerated the relics of St. Peter, St. Paul, St. James the major, St. James the minor, St. Philip, St. Simon, St. Jude, St. Barnaby, St. Bartholomew, apostles.
"St. Claudius, St. Crescentius, St. Nicostratus, St. Simplicius, St. Castor, St. Christopher, St. Julian, St. Cyr, St. Asciscle, St. Cyril, St. Blasius, St. George.
"The first bishops of Toulouse, the series of whom date from the third century: Saint Saturnin, St. Honorius, St. Hilaire, St. Sylvius, St. Exuperius, repose in this church.
"Not far from their venerated remains are those of St. Honestus, St. Papoul, St. William, Duke of Aquitaine, St. Edmund, King of England, St. Gilles, St. Gilbert, St. Thomas of Aquin, St. Vincent of Paul, St. Raymond, Pope St. Pius V., St. Susanna, St. Julietta, St. Margaret, St. Catharine, St. Lucia, and of St. Agatha."
Grow not weary, kind reader, over this long list of names, for each one has its history, which is interwoven with that of Holy Church. Let us rather linger with love and faith over each name, whether humble or mighty on earth—now potent in heaven! Let us murmur them in reverence, for some of them are inscribed on the foundations of the New Jerusalem—and all gleam like precious stones on its walls—all these did wear on earth "the jewelled state of suffering," but they are now triumphant in heaven, and their memory has long been glorious on earth.
One feels deeply awed in descending among these shrines containing the bodies of the saints—temples of the Holy Ghost. Virtue hath not yet gone out from them, as is testified by the wonders still wrought at their tombs.
Many of the present shrines are antique, some costly, and all interesting, but they have lost their ancient splendor. Their magnificence before the Revolution may be imagined from existing descriptions. These tell us of, among others, the silver shrine of St. Edmund, an ex-voto from the city of Toulouse, in 1684, in gratitude for deliverance from the plague, adorned with statues of solid silver. When the saint was transferred to this châsse, it was exposed to the veneration of the people for eight days, and all the parishes of the environs came to honor them. Some days there were fifty processions, which gives an idea of the lively faith and piety of that age. The octave was terminated by a general procession in the city, in which were borne forty four shrines, the most of them silver, and adorned with gold and precious stones.
And when, in 1385, the relics of St. James the major were transferred to a new shrine, the Duc de Berry, brother of Charles VI., gave for it a silver bust of the saint, a gold chain to which was attached a sapphire of great value, surrounded by rubies and pearls, with other jewels which adorned the bust till the time of the Revolution.
Like Madame de Staël, "I love this prodigality of terrestrial gifts to another world—offerings from time to eternity! Sufficient for the morrow are the cares required by human economy. Oh! how much I love what would be useless waste, were life nothing better than a career of toil for despicable gain!"
Though these shrines are stripped of most of their former splendor, the inestimable relics remain still venerated by the people. They no longer go there in the old garb of the pilgrim, with "sandal shoon and scallop-shell," or only occasionally, but their faith is as profound, and their piety as genuine. I was so fortunate as to meet a pilgrim in the orthodox garb as I was going into the church. He entered just before me. He was clad in a loose brown habit which extended to his feet. Over his shoulders was a cape, around which were fastened scallop-shells, as we see in pictures of pilgrims. His feet were sandalled.
"His sandals were with travel tore: Staff, budget, bottle, scrip he wore."
In truth, he had a bundle suspended by a stick on his shoulder. His hair was disordered, his eyes cast down, and he went from shrine to shrine paying his devotions, regardless of every one. From the way in which he made the sign of the cross I took him to be a Spaniard. I felt an indescribable emotion of pity for him whose contrition had induced to assume a penitential garb, and go from church to church living on alms, and I prayed that his soul might find peace—that peace which the world cannot give!
One of the first subterranean chapels I entered was that of the Sainte-Epine, in which is a beautiful silver reliquary, containing one of the thorns from the crown our suffering Saviour wore. It was given by St. Louis to his brother Alphonse, who married Jeanne, daughter of Raymond VII., last Count of Toulouse. On the pavement of the chapel is graven this ancient distich, likening the Sainte-Epine, surrounded by the bodies of thirteen saints, to a thorn among roses:
"Quisquis es externus quaerens miracula sixte, En tredecim pulchris insita spina rosis."
After the Revolution a holy priest of Toulouse established, in honor of this precious relic, the Confraternity of the Holy Thorn, composed of the most fervent Catholics of the city. Afflicted by the prolonged captivity of Pope Pius VII., they begged of God his deliverance—not only at their own shrines, but at that of St. Germaine of Pibrac. Their prayers were heard. On the 2d of February, 1814, the holy father slowly and sadly passed the walls of Toulouse on his way to Italy, locked up in his carriage! The highway was completely obstructed by the crowds of people, who, all bathed in tears, went out to meet him, and on their knees besought his benediction. Among them were the votaries of the Sainte-Epine, raising their hands to heaven in behalf of the holy captive.
The pope earnestly desired to enter the city that he might venerate the body of the angelic doctor, in the church of St. Sernin, but it was not deemed expedient to entrust such a guest to the faithful Toulousains. Halting beyond the ramparts, merely to change their horses and obtain refreshments, they hurried on as if afraid of losing their prisoner.
In another chapel of the crypts is the altar of St. Simon and St. Jude, containing their relics. It was consecrated by Pope Calixtus II. Old legends tell us that these apostles were two of the shepherds of Bethlehem, who first heard the Gloria in Excelsis. One loves to believe that they who were encircled by the brightness of God, to whom angels talked, and who were first at the manger, should afterward be called to follow our Saviour and preach the glad tidings, which they had heard from angelic tongues, to the nations afar off. They could not have lost sight of him who was so miraculously revealed to them. They must have hastened to join him as soon as he entered upon his public life.
In a niche, close by the chapel of St. Simon and St. Jude, is the entire body of St. Gilles, to whom the old counts of Toulouse had a particular devotion, especially Raymond IV., who is invariably styled in history Raymond de St. Gilles. This saint was very popular, not only in France, but in England and Scotland. A large hospital for lepers was built by the queen of Henry I. outside the city of London, which has given its name to a large district of that city; and St. Giles is the patron saint of Edinburgh, where a church was built under his invocation not later then 1359. This renders his shrine a place of interest to all who speak the English tongue. St. Sernin possesses, too, the body of one of England's sainted kings and that of her patron saint.
St. Gilles, or St. Giles, was an Athenian of royal blood, who, fearing the admiration excited by his talents, went to France, and became a hermit in a cave near the mouth of the Rhone. He subsisted on the produce of the woods and the milk of a tame hind. After his death a magnificent monastery, and then a city, rose round his tomb, and gave his name to the counts of Languedoc.
In a large portable châsse is the head of the glorious St. Thomas Aquinas, the author of the profound Summa Theologiae and the sublime Office of the Blessed Sacrament, worthy of the tongues of angels. This great doctor of the middle ages is not dead. His voice is still heard in the office of the church, "now with a single antiphon unlocking whole abysses of Scripture, and now in almost supernatural melody, more like the echoes of heaven than mere poetry of earth," says Faber. One should listen to this grand office resounding in the arches of the church where its author is enshrined, when thousands of tapers, around the enthroned ostensorium, light up the brilliant shrine of St. Sernin! It is a foretaste of the song of the redeemed!
When the body of St. Thomas of Aquin, brought from Italy, approached Toulouse, Louis of Anjou, brother of Charles V. of France, with archbishops and mitred abbots, at the head of one hundred and fifty thousand people, went out to meet it. Duke Louis and the principal lords of his court bore over it a canopy blazing with gold and precious stones. Around it floated six standards: on two were the arms of France, the third of Anjou, the others of the pope, the house of Aquin, and the city of Toulouse. They enshrined it magnificently in the church of the Dominicans, but it has been at St. Sernin since the Revolution. When placed in its present châsse in 1852, the venerable Père Lacordaire made a panegyric of the saint, attracting an immense audience. The arms of the illustrious house of Aquin are emblazoned on his altar.
In passing out of the crypts on the side opposite that which I entered is the following inscription:
"After having reunited in Clermont, in the year of salvation 1096, the faithful destined to deliver the Holy Sepulchre, Pope Urban II. wished himself to consecrate this basilica, one of the most precious monuments of Christian art. The sovereign pontiff had near him Raymond IV., Count of Toulouse and of St. Gilles, that glorious prince who first displayed on his banners and on his armor the Holy Cross of the Saviour.
"Popes Clement VII., Paul V.. Urban V., and Pius IV. have granted numerous privileges to this abbatial church. Those who visit its seven principal altars obtain indulgences like those acquired before the seven altars of St. Peter's church at Rome.
"Charles VI., Louis XI., Francis I., Charles IX., Louis XIII., and Louis XIV., kings of France, have, in praying, passed through these holy catacombs. It is here that in all public calamities a pious population has constantly resorted to implore the powerful intercession of the holy protectors of this antique and religious city."
There is hung on the walls of the crypts a curious bas-relief of the youthful Saviour, which is supposed to date from the Carlovingian age. He is in an aureola, ovoidal in form, pointed at its two extremities. Without, in the angles, are the emblems of the four evangelists. Around the head of our Saviour is a nimbus in the form of a cross, on which are graven the letters Alpha and Omega. This bas-relief was evidently the centre of an extensive work. The youthfulness of the features of Christ gives a presumption in favor of its antiquity. He is often found on many Christian sarcophagi, and in many of the paintings of the catacombs at Rome, with a youthful face. M. Didron says that, from the third to the tenth century, Christ is oftener represented young and beardless, but his face, young at first, grows older from century to century, as Christianity advances in age. The ancient Christian monuments at Rome, Aries, and elsewhere represent Christ with a young and pleasing face.
Many non-Catholics do not like these representations of our Saviour at all. The old Puritans were so opposed even to a cross that, in 1634, they cut out the holy emblem from St. George's flag; but there is now a great reaction in this respect. We pray it may grow still stronger. We find many of these representations of our Saviour, which must date from the beginning of Christianity. The Emperor Alexander Severus, who ascended the throne A.D. 222, had placed in his Lararium a statue of Christ, but we are not told how he is depicted. The Sudario of Veronica, the portrait attributed to St. Luke, the statue raised in the city of Paneas by the grateful Hémorroïsse, whether genuine or not, belong to the earliest ages, and prove, says M. Didron, that the Son of God was represented by painters and sculptors from the dawn of Christianity.
The chapels in the upper crypts are very interesting, with their statues and bas-reliefs covering the panelled niches which contain the holy relics. There is, in one of the chapels, a crucifix which St. Dominick used when he preached, and which he is said to have held up to animate the army of Simon de Montfort, at the great battle of Muret, when the Albigenses were decisively overthrown. Lacordaire says St. Dominick was not present at the battle, but remained in a chapel hard by, to pray, like Moses, with uplifted arms. One looks upon the crucifix with interest. It is of wood, blackened by time, and about a yard in length. The feet of the Christ are fastened one upon the other, in the Italian style.
One of the chapels bears the startling title of the Seven Sleepers, which would seem to savor of magic or oriental legend. They were seven Christians martyred at Ephesus, in the reign of Trajan, where, in the language of Scripture, they slept in the Lord. Their bodies having been found in the year 479, it was said, in mystic style, that they had awakened again, after a sleep of more than two hundred years. Honoring them collectively, it became a custom to call them the Seven Sleepers, and the Mohammedans have preserved the tradition as well as Christians. A chapel dedicated to them is rarely found; but Mrs. Jameson says they perpetually occur in the miniatures, sculpture, and stained glass of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. They are found in the chapel of Edward the Confessor at Westminster. Their statues, lying side by side on a bed of stone, were formerly in their chapel at St. Sernin, but only two of them now remain.
In the treasury of the abbey of St. Saturnin were formerly many curious and valuable objects. One of these, now in the museum at Toulouse, is the horn of Orlando, which, indeed, is ornamented with figures in the style of the age of Charlemagne. During the last days of Holy Week, when the bells were hushed during the awful days commemorating our Saviour's passion and death, the prolonged notes of this horn called the faithful to prayer. A similar one was used in the church of St. Orens at Auch, which is still carefully preserved. One loves whatever recalls Orlando, the type of Christian chivalry. Many a tradition of him lingers in this country. Roncesvalles claims to possess his armor, and Blaye his terrible sword and his tomb. In the country of the Escualdunae is the Pas de Roland, a gigantic footprint on a large rock. At the other extremity of the Pyrenees, in Roussillon, the long table of a Celtic dolmen is called by the people Le Palet de Roland; and large depressions in the form of a semi-circle, in this part of France, mark the passage of Orlando's steed—that steed over which, when dead, his master wept, begging his forgiveness if he had ever been ill-treated. The poet tells us the horse opened his eyes kindly on his master, and never stirred more.
One would like to think this the veritable horn of Orlando—which was so powerful, when sounded for the last time, that the very birds of the air fell dead, the Saracens fell back in terror, and Charlemagne and his court heard its notes afar off. There is far more enjoyment in accepting all these local traditions than in disputing their truth. Let us reserve our incredulity for so-called history.
From the tower of St. Sernin there is a magnificent view of the Pyrenees from sea to sea, and of a large extent of country full of historic and religious associations. Directly beneath is the old city of Toulouse, recalling Clemence Isaure and the golden violets, and the troubadours of an older time. St. Anthony of Padua frequented its famous schools. St. Dominick here founded the order of Preaching Friars, which has given so many doctors and missionaries to the church. St. Vincent Ferrier preached yonder in St. George's Square. In that same Place afterward preached Friar Thomas de Illirico against the excesses of the Carnival, and against all games of chance, with such effect that all the cards found in the shops were publicly burned and the trade of card-maker abolished. One day, after the preaching of this servant of God, the capitouls had placed on the five principal gates of the city a marble tablet which bore en relief the holy name of JESUS supported by angels—that name so powerful for defence that it makes the very demons tremble!
Another famous preacher of that time induced the capitouls to appoint four watchmen to patrol the city at night, from one till five, and chanting loudly:
"Réveillez-vous, gens qui dormez, Priez Dieu pour les trépassez."
Before leaving St. Sernin, we stop to murmur a Requiescant in pace at the tombs of the counts of Toulouse, the first sovereigns who styled themselves "By the grace of God," and whose history is so glorious and yet so sad and tragical.
And as no Catholic Christian quits a church without leaving a tribute of love before the altar of the Madonna, so, before reluctantly leaving this antique basilica, perfumed with a thousand memories, I drop my bead at the feet of Mary, remembering that in this country were first strung together the bright jewels of the rosary, which have ever since adorned the garments of Christ's spouse—the Church.
AVE MARIA!