It is a solid structure containing a large hall with a barrel-vaulted roof in a bad state of repair. The worship of the goddess died out in the fourth century, and the deserted buildings falling, in the dark ages, into the hands of the Benedictines, it was given over to the female devotees of the new religion. These nuns continued in possession for some six hundred years, a long period during which little is known of it, except the facts stated.
There is some kind of a record that a fire took place in it about the end of the nuns’ tenancy, and there seems to be a probability that it had at that time been turned into a hay store. Its later history is a long record of disaster, for it was used as a fortress, and war had its share in bringing about the ruin. But whatever troubles it may have come through, it has an honoured old age, and all the care and protection which the appreciative twentieth century can suggest is bestowed upon it.
The other early monument, dating from before the first century, is the Porte d’Auguste, which was built, 16 B.C., in the ramparts of the town. It was for defensive purposes, and but little remains of the original structure save two large arches and two smaller ones, which have still smaller niches above. In the stormy reign of Charles VI. by his orders a great fortress was erected over this gateway, and for nearly four hundred years this, perhaps the earliest piece of Roman architecture in Nîmes, was buried out of sight and out of ken. The other Roman gates of Nîmes have nearly vanished, portions only remaining of another fortified gateway that stood and guarded the southern entrance to the town.
On the summit of the hill from which the spring of Nemausus issues, and which is 350 feet above the sea-level, there stands an octagonal ruined tower, that rises to a height of about 90 feet. There is a theory that the tower stands on the site of a more ancient one, built by a Phocean-Celtic population to guard their city. The tower was originally some thirty feet higher than it is to-day. The lower story of the imposing mass was built round a rising mound of earth which filled up the interior and made a solid stony foundation for the superstructure. It is known as the “Tour Magne,” and was built, probably, about the same time as the Porte d’Auguste, and formed a part of the system of the town’s fortifications, for it commands such an extensive view of the country round that there can be little doubt that it was a watch-tower from which the military of the time could observe the movements of any threatening danger to their town. The “Tour Magne” must have many memories; if it could only speak, its autobiography would be full of magic charm. It could tell of fierce strife and a crowd of stirring incidents that took place between Roman and barbaric Celt, Visigoths, Franks, and Burgundians, and of the smaller but fierce struggles of which no history exists.
But one story has been put on record, the only legend current about the old fortress, and strangely unconnected with warlike undertakings. In the sixteenth century a farmer named Trucat heard of a prognostication made by the noted astrologer Nostradamus to the effect that a husbandman would make a fortune by discovering a golden cock. Golden animals and birds seem to have run riot through the imaginations of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The credulous Trucat fondly believed that he was the fortunate man indicated by the prophecy, and that the treasure he was to discover lay buried in the rocky earth, which filled the lower storey of the famous “Tour Magne.”
He set about gaining permission to explore the earth inside the tower. After some trouble he managed to get the consent of the King, Henry IV., to excavate, the condition imposed being that it should all be done at his