A Tour Through Old Provence

by A. S. Forrest

The Romans introduced their great national institutions for amusement, the amphitheatre and the circus, into nearly all their colonies, no matter how distant, and the modern Gaul has emulated the older and far greater coloniser in this respect. Even on the borders of the Great Desert the outside café is firmly planted amongst a people who boast a longer civilisation than their conquerors—a feat which the Romans found impossible, for the amphitheatre of Rome made no headway amongst the conquered Greeks.

But the Place, with all its gay life upon a summer evening, is not a lasting memory of Avignon. The picture that remains upon the mind is the view from the suspension bridge, just where it reaches the isle of Barthelasse. From this point of vantage Avignon, bathed in the evening glow, assumes a thoroughly mediæval aspect. The dark masses of the Rocks of the Dom, the Cathedral, the Papal Palace, the church spires and belfries are all softened and mellowed in the mystic light of the afterglow in the west, until fancy suggests that the intervening years have, in some subtle way, been bridged over, and the beholder is back in those days when the proud prelates ruled like kings, nay despots, in this fortress town beside the Rhone.

VILLENEUVE

II
VILLENEUVE

The modern approach to the town of Villeneuve passes the Tower of Philip the Fair, a huge square block of masonry, erected early in the fourteenth century on the west bank of the river, at the spot where the old Bridge of St. Benezet reached the shore. The position was such that whoever held this tower had complete command of the bridge, and could render it useless to the inhabitants of Avignon when any conflict arose. Its presence here proves how determined Philip was to have the Papacy under his complete control, and at the time of its construction it was well-nigh impregnable, for it embodied the latest improvements known to the military genius of that day.

Before this period the battlements of fortresses and castles were simply a series of embrasures and merlons with narrow oylets perforating the latter. The engines of war used in laying siege to these buildings were great battering-rams, with iron points, which laboured incessantly at the lower portions of the defences, until a breach sufficiently large to give passage to the attacking party was effected. The defenders’ reply to this mode of attack was to lower cords or chains from the battlements, and with them entangle the battering-ram so as to put it out of action.

The besieging party’s efforts were, therefore, engaged in preventing the defenders from leaning over the parapets; the archers and bowmen directing their arrows and quarrels at any and every head appearing at the embrasures above. Throughout the crusades this was the manner of defence and attack, and an improvement was introduced by a system of covering the battlements with temporary galleries, projecting over and supported upon wooden beams, thrust through holes left for the purpose in the masonry. This gallery was roofed with wood and tiles, whilst the floor had gaps between the planks through which the defenders could let down their ropes and chains or pour molten lead, burning sulphur, stones and other missiles upon the heads of those who advanced to enter breaches in the walls.