CHAPTER XXVII.
Toulouse—Its Churches—Protestant Service—Libraries—Reception of the Duke d’Angoulême—The French Generals—Popularity of Wellington.
Head-quarters, Toulouse,
April 27, 1814.
My dear M——,
Though I have nothing now to amuse you with, but the result of my morning walks and inquiries in this town, I shall proceed as usual, more with a wish to preserve my own crude observations, than hoping to interest you much by the perusal.
My last was finished on Saturday. On Sunday, about half-past eleven, I attended the service at the Protestant chapel, established under the sanction and patronage of Bonaparte, as a sort of church-wardenish gold-lettered record informed me. The service began with a prayer by the clerk; he then gave out a psalm, more noisy than musical, and without the accompaniment of the organ. I was astonished that such a small congregation could make so much noise and discord. One greasy-headed, methodistical-looking man, near me, continued in an unceasing roar, bearing much more resemblance to a well-known noise with which our mules so frequently indulge us, than any known harmony. A short prayer, and a long chapter from the New Testament, with the Commentary, as printed in the book, was then delivered from the pulpit or reading-desk (for there was but one) by a clergyman, who then entered. Another psalm ensued. The organ then played to introduce a young preacher, who took the reader’s place, and gave us a prayer and the Ten Commandments, and another psalm, partly to the organ; but before half a stave was finished, the organist found that his notes and the vocal ones were so different, that he ceased playing, and though he made two or three attempts at a single note afterwards, he found it would not do, and gave it up.
The young preacher then read a text from the Bible, and gave us a very good extempore discourse about half-an-hour long. The subject was the vanity of this world, and the danger of temptation and evil communication. The language and delivery were clear and distinct; there was no rant, but much propriety of manner. A psalm followed, and the organ was not so much distanced; then the Lord’s Prayer and Belief, and a prayer for all descriptions of persons and denominations, like that of our own Church praying for dignitaries, &c. And then another psalm, at last, in tolerable harmony, but very noisy. A blessing concluded the whole.
At first there were only about forty-five persons; some half-dozen old gentlemen were in the seats near the altar. These had backs. About twenty-five women were in the right-hand seats; and about fifteen men in the left. The side-seats were chairs placed in rows, and all fastened to each other. In the course of the service, the numbers increased to about sixty or seventy. The congregation appeared to be nearly all of the middling class of tradesmen; only about three of our poor men took their allotted seats, quite at the back. As no one ever knelt down, there was no occasion for either room or cushions for that purpose. The men sat with their hats occasionally on and off, and legs crossed, at their ease, in the style of the House of Commons; but were attentive to the sermon. The three poor men all fell asleep, snoring so loud that a sort of beadle was obliged to awaken them. I was not much surprised on the whole, comparing this scene with that in the Roman Catholic churches, that the proselytes amongst the highest and lowest classes were not not numerous. This service suits neither. It is most adapted to an independent tradesman, who thinks a little for himself, and can see the errors of the Catholics, and likes the economy of the chapel. It might be accident, but I saw scarcely any white cockades,—only one or two of the elder, and I suppose richer, members of the community wear them in their hats.
On Monday I looked into nearly all the churches, present and ci-devant, of Toulouse. The cathedral of St. Etienne I have already mentioned. The next in size and consequence is St. Saturnin, or more commonly called St. Surnin. This is a curious building, in the dark heavy Saxon style (reminding one of the early attempts at Grecian revival, and the introduction of the Gothic), all circular except the angular main pillars of the centre of the cross, which were heavy octagons; the roof circular, and upper windows double circles. Except the pillars, nearly the whole is made of the flat tile or brick, which is curious. It was built in the present form about the year 1160 to 1190. There are monuments of the Earls of Toulouse, &c., of founders, and in a dark vaulted chapel under the grand altar are relics innumerable—of the thorns in the crown placed on the head of Christ; the heads of Barnabas, of Simon, and of Jude; parts of their bodies also; parts of Peter; besides bishops, &c.; the body and figure of Thomas Aquinas; and an English saint, a king, whose name I could not make out. We heard much of the riches with which all these relics were formerly surrounded. It is said that the revolutionists carried off four hundredweight of gold, besides silver. All the most valuable part, however, as the good Catholics are bound to think, were fortunately spared, and still remain in excellent preservation, and tolerably fine with gilding.
The general effect of the building is gloomy and superstitious, and a strange unpleasant smell, which some say proceeds from large vaults underneath, which are filled with bodies which do not corrupt, makes one glad to get out of the building as soon as curiosity is satisfied. They do not bury their dead in the church now, and the vaults I mentioned are walled up. In the remaining churches now in use there is little worthy of notice, but there are two very large ci-devant convent churches. That of the Jacobins is worthy of notice; one long building only, like King’s College Chapel (not a cross), and with one lofty row of circular pillars all down the centre. This forms as it were two equal main aisles, and no side aisles. On the sides are rows of chapels and a large cloister. Almost the whole is in brick, except the centre pillars. It is now regularly fitted up as cavalry barrack stables; and they are excellent, easily containing in the whole, I should think, about seven hundred horses. There is an octagon building adjoining, with a slender pillar, fitted up the same. Near this is another large, long, similar building, formerly a chapel, but without the centre pillars, and the scale of course somewhat smaller. This is the forage store for the cavalry barrack. We have them now both in use, as the French had. I must now go in my best to meet the Duke d’Angoulême.