The church of S. Honoré was built by S. Virgilius, Archbishop of Arles A.D. 588-618, and the baptistery dates from his time. According to the legend, whilst he was erecting the basilica, the people toiled ineffectually to move the pillars to their destined place. At last they sent word to S. Virgil that the truck was fast, and the pillars could neither be taken on nor carried back. Then Virgil hurried to the spot, and saw a little devil, like a negro boy, sitting under the truck, obstructing its progress. Virgil drove him away, whereupon the columns were easily moved. He was buried in this church, but I do not fancy his tomb is known. A strange story is told of him, how one night, as he was pacing the walls of Arles, or possibly walking in the Alyscamp, he saw a mysterious ship come sailing over the meres. In the starlight he discerned forms of sailors. The ship drew up near where he stood, and a voice called to him: "Reverend father, we know who thou art. Now we are bound for Jerusalem, and are here to ask thee to come on board with us." "No, thank you," answered Virgilius, "not till you have shown me who you are." Then he made the sign of the cross, and suddenly the ship resolved itself into a drift of fog that rolled away before the wind along the surface of the mere. This is the second version of the world-wide-known myth of the Flying Dutchman. The earliest form comes to us in the legend of S. Adrian, a martyr in Asia Minor. As his widow Basilissa was sailing over the Black Sea with his body, to bury it at Byzantium, a phantom ship passed by, which also vanished when adjured in the sacred name.
What is, to us English, of interest in connection with S. Virgil of Arles is, that it was he who consecrated Augustine for his mission to Kent, at the command of Gregory the Great. So here, probably, in this ruinous, silent old church, our apostle of the English knelt and received his commission to go and preach the Gospel to us Angles. This same Virgil also built the cathedral, and dedicated it to S. Stephen. But of his work there not a trace remains. Another bishop of Arles of some note was Regulus, who when preaching one day was so troubled by the noise made by the frogs, that he interrupted his sermon to order them to be silent, and—they obeyed.
In a side chapel of the old church of S. Honoratus is a sarcophagus that contains the skull and bones and dust of a young girl. The coffin is of lead, and this perhaps accounts for the preservation. Along with it were found the gold ear-rings and other trinkets. On the ear-rings a cross, but the inscription on the tomb hardly leads one to believe the girl was a Christian. She was aged seventeen years, eight months, and eighteen days, when she died. Her name was Ælia. Here is the inscription in the lead, translated:—
ÆLIA, DAUGHTER OF ÆLIA.
Thou who can'st read these lines, read a sad mishap, and learn our
plaintive lay.
Many call that a sarcophagus which contains bones,
But this has become the home of unhallowed bees. [1]
Shame it should be so! Here lies a damsel of exceeding beauty.
There's more than grief in this: a dearly loved wife has been snatched
away.
She lived a virgin so long as Nature willed.
When she became a bride, the marriage vows were a joy to her parents.
She lived seventeen years, eight months, and eighteen days.
Happy the father who lived not to see such sorrow.
The wound rankles in the bosom of her mother, her precious jewel,
And her father, taken away in old age, still holds her clasped to his
heart.
[Footnote 1: The ancients thought that bees were bred of dead bodies. See
Virgil, Georgics. iv. 281-5.]
Here is the original with conjectural restorations. Would not old Dr.
Keates have whipped the Eton boy who wrote such barbarous Latin verses! But
it must be remembered the Arles folk were Græeco-Gallic, and not masters of
Latin. Some of the words are run together. It runs thus—
ÆLIA ÆLIÆ
Littera.quinosti.lege.casum.et.d(ice querelam.)
Multi.sarcophagum.dicunt.quod.con(tinet ossa:)
Set.conclusa.decens.apibus.domus.ist(a profanis:)
Onefas.indignum.jacet.hic.præclara(puella.)
Hoc.plusquam.dolor.est.rapta.est.s(uavissima conjux.)
Pervixit.virgo.vbi.jam.natura.placebat.
Vixit.enim.ann.xvii.et.menses viii.diesque xviii.
O.felice.patrem.qui.non.vidit.tale.dolorem.
Hoeret.et.in fixo.pectore.volnus.dionysyadi matri.
Et junctam.secum.geron.pater.tenet.ipse.puellam.
This is an exact copy. I am not responsible for the grammatical blunders, they were made clearly by the sculptor of the inscription, who did not understand what he cut.