A Book of the Riviera

by S. Baring-Gould

THE ESTÉREL, FROM CANNES

The Estérel can be visited from Cannes or S. Raphael, but the real centre for excursions is Agay, an ideal nook for a winter resort. The Mornes Rougés, a hemicycle of heights, curves about the harbour, and cuts off every huffle of the Mistral. The Cap Dramont intercepts the winds from the west. It possesses good hotels, and if a visitor for the winter could tear himself away from the gaieties of Cannes, he would spend a month here with perfect comfort, in a warmer climate, and with any number of delightful excursions to be made from it. Agay and Anthéor are two settlements of artists, and any one who enjoys sketching can follow that pursuit in the open air in the Estérel throughout the winter. Among the many points of interest near Agay may be mentioned the Roman quarries of blue porphyry, les Caous. Of these there are three. It was for a long time supposed that the Romans transported the greyish-blue porphyry spotted with white, found in their structures at Fréjus and Orange from Egypt, till these quarries were discovered. In them remain some shafts of columns twenty-two feet long, roughed out, but never completed. Grooves cut in the rock, and blocks dropped on the way down to the sea, point out the fact that the working of these quarries must have been abandoned abruptly. There were workshops hard by, and numerous remains of pottery and tools have been picked up. One of the quarries was utilised for columns, another for blocks and facing-slabs.

The Cap Roux, which stands forth as an advanced sentinel, with feet in the sea, and starts up 1,360 feet, with its red needles shooting aloft from the water, and pierced below with caverns, is consecrated to the memory of S. Honoratus, whose cave, La Sainte Baume, is in the lurid cliff. Numerous pilgrims were wont to visit it at one time, but now it is hardly frequented at all, save by tourists. There is a fashion in saints; and poor old Honoratus is now shouldered into the background, and thrust into the shade. But he is not a man who should be forgotten. His is one of the most lovable characters in the calendar. His life was written by his kinsman and disciple, the great Hilary of Arles, and it may be thoroughly relied on. He is also spoken of with much love by another pupil, S. Eucherius of Lyons. But there exists another Life, which is a tissue of fables, and a late composition, utterly worthless, one “which,” says Baronius, the Church historian, “cannot be read without disgust, except by those possessed of iron stomachs, and wits cankered with the rust of ignorance.”

Honoratus was son of a Romano-Gaulish nobleman, living it is not certain where. When quite a young man he longed to embrace a solitary life, away from the distractions and pleasures of the corrupt society and the degenerate civilization of the time. His father, noticing the direction of the lad’s mind, charged his eldest son, Venantius, a gay and impetuous youth, to turn him from this purpose; but on the contrary, it was he who gained his brother; and the two young men left their home and wandered to the East. There, overcome by the hardships of the journey, Venantius, who was delicate, succumbed, and Honoratus buried him. Then he set his face westward, and on reaching Provence made the acquaintance of Leontius, Bishop of Fréjus, and opened to him his heart. Leontius advised him to test the sincerity of his purpose, and recommended him to find some solitary nook in the Estérel where he might spend time in preparation and prayer. Then Honoratus, wandering among the forests and the flaming red rocks, lighted on a cave on Cap Roux and made that his place of retreat. Later, being resolute in purpose, he departed, and, accompanied by a few others of like mind, crossed over to the Isle of Lerins and made that his abode. By degrees a little community formed there about him. Honoratus, whose fine face, as Eucherius says, was radiant with a sweet and attractive majesty, received a multitude of disciples of all nations, who flocked to him; and the island became the great centre of learning and holiness for Gaul. He showed the utmost tenderness in the management of those who committed themselves to his guidance. He sought to penetrate to the depths of their hearts, to understand their troubles and difficulties. He neglected no effort to dispel every sadness, all painful recollection of the world. He watched their sleep, their health, their labours, that he might draw each to serve God according to the measure of his strength. Thus he inspired them with a love more than filial. “In him,” they said, “we find not only a father, but an entire family, a country, the whole world.” When he wrote to any of those who were absent, they were wont to say, on receiving a letter, written, according to the usage of the time, upon tablets of wax, “He has poured back honey into the wax, honey drawn from the inexhaustible sweetness of his heart.”

The monks, who had sought happiness by renouncing secular life, protested that they had found it on the Isle of Lerins, under the guidance of Honoratus.

But every now and then, overburdened with the care of a great community, Honoratus longed to be alone, to rest from these engrossing cares, and to spend his time in searching his own heart and communing with God.

He had a young kinsman, Hilary by name, of whom I have already spoken, living in the world. Honoratus sought him out in his old home and earnestly endeavoured to draw him to embrace the monastic life. But his persuasion failed. Hilary stubbornly refused. Before he left, Honoratus said, “Well, then, I will obtain from God what you now refuse me.” And he retreated, either to his cave in the Estérel or to his island of Lerins, to pray for his relative. Three days after he was gone Hilary changed his mind. “On the one hand,” he says, I thought I saw God calling me; on the other the world seducing me. How often did I embrace, and then reject, will and then not will, the same thing. But in the end, Jesus Christ triumphed in me.” And going to the sea-coast he boated over to Lerins.

Honoratus was elected Bishop of Arles in 426, and died in the arms of Hilary, who succeeded him, in 429.

Who thinks of this saintly old man when in the bustling rue S. Honoré, in Paris, that is called after him?