Numerous fragments of Roman ornaments and inscriptions are scattered about Vienne. Some of the most interesting antiquities, discovered in and about the city, have been collected, and placed in an old church, where they form a museum; there are amongst them a few beautiful fragments of sculpture; and many mosaics, some of which may be considered as very fine ones, but a considerable portion of the objects appears to belong to the decadence. Besides these monuments of Roman times, Vienne boasts a very fine cathedral. The front rises from an elevated platform, or parvis, about twelve feet above the street, the ascent to which is by a magnificent flight of steps. This platform terminates at each end against private houses; the front is defended by a Gothic balustrade, which returns down the steps. The façade has never been completed, and perhaps in its present state the form is too square, yet it is truly a magnificent object, and has proved to me not only the possibility, but the great advantage of thus elevating a Gothic church. It is generally very difficult, when one contemplates a noble building, to determine precisely from what particulars our pleasure is derived, and to judge what might be omitted without injury, or what added with advantage. On considering the religious edifices of our own country, we observe that they are almost all, either on a level with the ground, or somewhat below it; and I had consequently began to doubt whether part of their beauty might not be owing to this circumstance. In France such a peculiarity is not observable, for we find here that the cathedrals are, with hardly any exception, placed on a platform more or less elevated. This at Vienne is the highest I have seen, and from that very circumstance, it is the finest, and the one which most contributes to the dignity of the building. The whole of this part, and the western front itself, together with the four first arches of the nave, were added by Pierre Palmier in 1527, and present nothing very remarkable in the style of architecture, unless perhaps, that in some cases there is an appearance of the artist having endeavoured to imitate the character of the ancient work.
On entering, the building seems at first glance to present a considerable uniformity of style; but a closer examination betrays very important differences. As to its whole effect, the want of coloured glass is a deficiency hardly to be forgiven; and it seemed to me, who have been lately so much accustomed to the very lofty churches of the north of France, rather too low in proportion to its extent, but in this my companion did not agree with me. We estimated its height at between eighty and ninety feet; and certainly if it had but painted glass, it would not be disgraced in a comparison with the proudest Gothic churches in Europe, but in its present state, it is less impressive than that at Lyon. The first four arches are of the same date and style as the front, but beyond these are seven other arches on each side, which form the most curious part of the building. From the pavement to the under side of the gallery, the architecture is of a manner which I have not seen before, and one might imagine it for a moment to be formed at the restoration of the Italian architecture, but it is only for a moment: the mouldings, the ornaments, and above all, the capitals, clearly attest the antiquity of the work. Driven from that supposition, the observer is almost led to attribute it to the decline of Roman architecture, (I wish we had good words corresponding with the French decadence and renaissance,) for it approaches even more nearly than the Saxon style, to the productions of the ancients; nevertheless the arches are pointed, and if we imagine this to have been in consequence of some restorations, or repairs, which may possibly have been the case, since the points are very obtuse, and there is a central key-stone; yet the general disposition is too much like that of a Gothic church, to allow us to push so far back the era of its construction. The arches of the side aisles in this part have no mouldings on the groins, the lower windows are rose-headed, and probably of the thirteenth century; those of the clerestory are by threes, and without tracery, they may therefore be attributed to the twelfth; but in both parts some of a later style have been introduced. There is no transept, but there are four steps at the eighth pier from the entrance, and three more at the eleventh. The latter mark the present choir, the straight part of which, consisting of two arches only, is of the earliest French pointed style, while the chevet is polygonal, and has a quatrefoil in the window heads. Externally the flanks of the side aisles are finished with a gallery of small arches, upon little columns, some of which are semicircular, and others pointed, and above these rise Gothic pinnacles. Some fragments of more ancient work have been built up in the walls, and in the oldest part there are also monumental tablets as early as 1200, which seem to be posterior to the erection of the wall. Reasoning from appearance, I should consider it as a building begun in the eleventh, and continued through the whole of the twelfth century, but the history of the cathedral mentions no considerable works in that period. It is said to have been begun by St. Esalde, archbishop in 718. The works were afterwards suspended till the time of another archbishop, St. Theobald, who completed the choir in 952. It seems certain that something was erected by him at that time, and equally certain that it was not the present choir. Yet the foundation may have been of that date, and semicircular, though the work above is slightly polygonal, and the want of a transept to so considerable a building creates a suspicion that the plan is of great antiquity. After this period I have found no accounts of any important works till those already mentioned, in 1527.
Besides the cathedral, there is at Vienne a very curious Saxon church, dedicated to St. Michel;[[18]] it has a stone ornament, running along the ridge of the roof, which seems not to be uncommon in these parts; the ornamental arches of the tower include nearly two-thirds of a circle; a circumstance which unites it with the Moresque architecture. The interior of the church is not beautiful, but a little cloister is very pretty, composed of arches, resting on little coupled columns.[[19]]
The churches of the villages down the Rhone are almost all of that style which we call in England, Saxon or Norman, very ancient and very rude. One at Bourg St. Andiole has an octagonal central tower, with semicircular arches, and is crowned with a spire of rather low proportions, rising immediately from the sides of the octagon, without cornice, or balustrade, or any thing to mark the line of separation.[[20]]
I have been so used in France to hear the pieces of twenty francs called louis, that I thought of nothing else when I made the agreement with a boatman at Vienne, to take us to Pont St. Esprit, full one hundred miles, for three louis; he used his oars very little, just enough to preserve a direction to the boat. When we were about to pay our waterman, he demanded seventy-two francs, instead of sixty; as we could not settle the matter, we all went to a magistrate, who acknowledged the ambiguity of the term, and decided that we should pay sixty-six francs, as a mean between the two methods of understanding the bargain. I do not know whether the man had any intention of cheating us. He had assured us on setting out that he must sell his boat at Pont St. Esprit to great disadvantage, since from the rapidity of the stream, it was impossible to bring it up the Rhone, and yet we found the boat on entering quite an old one. This had excited some suspicion of his honesty, because, if they could not be moved against the stream, we did not understand how they were to wear out at Vienne: but perhaps in this we were unjust. These boats cannot last long, as they are very slightly and poorly made, and the man only estimated the value at thirty-six francs.
The voyage down the Rhone is delightful; and I doubt if all the boasted beauties of the Rhine deserve to be compared with it. The scene is continually varying, but always beautiful; the river sometimes runs between lofty banks, always steep, generally rocky, sometimes precipitous. The hills are ornamented with villages, and with ruined castles without number, occupying the most picturesque situations; some are covered with sloping vineyards; in others little terraces are made for the vines among the rocks; some are crowned with forests, and everywhere the mixture of scattered trees and bushes gives richness to the landscape. In some places the bank of hill recedes from the river, or diminishes in height; at others it is entirely lost, and the eye wanders to more distant hills, to rugged mountains, or to the snow-covered summits of the Alps. Sometimes one of these styles of landscape is presented on one side, and another on the opposite shore; at others all appear to be united; add to which, the Rhone itself is a noble river, from a quarter to half a mile wide, rushing impetuously along, and giving life and spirit to the scene.
The rapidity of the current has given rise to a method of crossing which we do not see in England: a rope is stretched across the river, generally at the narrowest parts, and the ferry-boat is attached to this rope by a pulley, which passes along with it; and thus, when merely committed to the stream, with a little help from the rudder, which is made very large, the boat is impelled to the opposite shore. The rope is elevated sufficiently for boats descending the river to pass underneath it, either by attaching it to a rock, or to a piece of rough masonry erected for that purpose. The rapid current of the Rhone is continually shifting the gravelly bottom on which it runs, and this produces a continual noise, like the frying of fish, but louder.
We slept at Ancone, a little village on the banks of the river. I counted twenty beds at the inn, and every thing about them seemed very clean; indeed the sheets in France are always clean, and I never had occasion to doubt whether they had not been already used, which has sometimes been the case in England.
Although the exertion of the rower is trifling, the progress made by the help of the current is very considerable. We were little more than ten hours from Vienne to Ancone, a distance of seventy-six miles; from Ancone to Pont St. Esprit, six leagues of the country, or about twenty-four miles, very little more than three; so that we travelled nearly seven miles and a half per hour. Allowing two for the effect of the oars, we shall have five and a half for the rapidity of the stream, which is about the same as from Lyon to Vienne. The course of the Rhone from the Lake of Geneva to the sea, measured along all its windings, is nearly three hundred miles, according to the best maps, and the elevation of that lake is 1,200 feet above the Mediterranean Sea. This would give an average descent of four feet per mile. The descent from Geneva to Lyon is probably much greater than this, especially as it includes the loss of the Rhone, and a considerable space, where the river runs with great velocity in a deep bed, and the channel is but a few yards wide; and although, on the other hand, it is probable, that the descent from Beaucaire to the sea is trifling, since there the valley opens, and a wide spread of alluvial soil begins, yet perhaps we cannot calculate the descent of the Rhone from Lyon to Avignon at more than three feet per English mile, or one foot in 1,760.
At Pont St. Esprit we find the first bridge over the Rhone, in descending from Lyon. It was begun on the 4th of September, 1265, and finished in February, 1309: the water-way is contracted to about 1,800 feet, passing through nineteen large arches, and seven small ones, with great rapidity. As well as I could judge by the eye, the water is about fifteen inches higher, above, than below the bridge. The edifice is very well built, with semicircular arches, but it is very narrow, and in order to oppose more resistance to the action of floods, is not built in a straight line. In walking upon it we perceived how much we lost in this part of the Rhone, where the banks are comparatively low, by the depressed position of the eye in a boat; a rich and fertile plain shaded by mulberry trees, appeared between us and the hills, of which we had seen nothing from the water.