A long straight road, sheltered and shaded from wind and sun by great plane-trees that range on either side, leads from the town to the foot of the Alpilles. The vista is extensive, and the rugged hills that end it assume the appearance of a gigantic fortress.
Just outside the town, sheltered by a great chestnut-tree, there stands an ancient church, “Our Lady of Pity,”
the walls of its beautiful porch abandoned to the bill-poster, and its steps and floor to the village children. All the way up this white road there are ancient bits of masonry utilised in modern building, and many other evidences of the Roman occupation. Here, by the roadside, there is a curious deep well, with the mouth protected by four great slabs of stone set on end forming a rough but solid parapet; a tall stone stands up on end beside the others, and through a hole in it a branch of a tree is thrust, from which is suspended the pulley-wheel and rope to lower the bucket into the waters below. Two great troughs carved out of solid stone lie by the side ready for use as washtubs. They look like tombs from the Alyscamps at Arles, or possibly some other ancient burial-ground. Who can say?
All the little homesteads have small patios in front or at the sides of them; vines trail up the columns that support the lean-to roofs, columns that are either of Roman workmanship or imitations, but the ancient character is well preserved. About a mile up this road are two monuments of the earliest Roman time; grey as the hills that form a background to them, delicate in contrast to nature’s rugged sculptures, they are memorials of the skill of hands whose work was finished two thousand years ago. The sculptors have been lavish of their time and talents, and although the freshness of their delicate and bold carvings has worn off, time has softened and mellowed them, even as it does a refined or noble human face. The smaller monument is a specimen of a triumphal arch, much damaged, but what remains is more beautiful in its proportions and simplicity than many of the larger triumphal arches found in Provence.
The other monument, the tomb of the Julii, has an inscription on the architrave of the second story,—SEX . L . M . JULIEI . C . F . PARENTIBUS . SUEIS . which translated means that the monument was raised to the memory of their parents by Sextus, Lucius, and Marcus Julii, the sons of Caius. It is a mausoleum of exquisite symmetry and distinction; on the square base two bas-reliefs of battle and hunting scenes indicate that Caius was a warrior who was no less distinguished in the chase than on the battle-field. The second story is a square turret which has four niches, and is enriched with fluted columns at each corner; the entablature above is embellished with mouldings and ornament and surmounted by a small circular turret, with ten fluted Corinthian columns, inside of which are two statues wanting the heads. The amount of well-considered ornament lavished upon these memorials, one of victories accomplished, the other of the highly honoured dead, is an eloquent tribute to the sentiments that animated the Romans as well as to the distinction and skill of their artists.
These two solitary monuments are all that remain of the ancient city, but they stand steadfast at the foot of the rugged hills, the faithful sentinels of a vanished empire. Far removed from the busy life of cities to-day, they have known in the past the pressure of the multitude and the noisy hum of humankind, for the ancient town nestled around them on all sides.
