In passing out of the crypts on the side opposite that which I entered is the following inscription:
"After having reunited in Clermont, in the year of salvation 1096, the faithful destined to deliver the Holy Sepulchre, Pope Urban II. wished himself to consecrate this basilica, one of the most precious monuments of Christian art. The sovereign pontiff had near him Raymond IV., Count of Toulouse and of St. Gilles, that glorious prince who first displayed on his banners and on his armor the Holy Cross of the Saviour.
"Popes Clement VII., Paul V.. Urban V., and Pius IV. have granted numerous privileges to this abbatial church. Those who visit its seven principal altars obtain indulgences like those acquired before the seven altars of St. Peter's church at Rome.
"Charles VI., Louis XI., Francis I., Charles IX., Louis XIII., and Louis XIV., kings of France, have, in praying, passed through these holy catacombs. It is here that in all public calamities a pious population has constantly resorted to implore the powerful intercession of the holy protectors of this antique and religious city."
There is hung on the walls of the crypts a curious bas-relief of the youthful Saviour, which is supposed to date from the Carlovingian age. He is in an aureola, ovoidal in form, pointed at its two extremities. Without, in the angles, are the emblems of the four evangelists. Around the head of our Saviour is a nimbus in the form of a cross, on which are graven the letters Alpha and Omega. This bas-relief was evidently the centre of an extensive work. The youthfulness of the features of Christ gives a presumption in favor of its antiquity. He is often found on many Christian sarcophagi, and in many of the paintings of the catacombs at Rome, with a youthful face. M. Didron says that, from the third to the tenth century, Christ is oftener represented young and beardless, but his face, young at first, grows older from century to century, as Christianity advances in age. The ancient Christian monuments at Rome, Aries, and elsewhere represent Christ with a young and pleasing face.
Many non-Catholics do not like these representations of our Saviour at all. The old Puritans were so opposed even to a cross that, in 1634, they cut out the holy emblem from St. George's flag; but there is now a great reaction in this respect. We pray it may grow still stronger. We find many of these representations of our Saviour, which must date from the beginning of Christianity. The Emperor Alexander Severus, who ascended the throne A.D. 222, had placed in his Lararium a statue of Christ, but we are not told how he is depicted. The Sudario of Veronica, the portrait attributed to St. Luke, the statue raised in the city of Paneas by the grateful Hémorroïsse, whether genuine or not, belong to the earliest ages, and prove, says M. Didron, that the Son of God was represented by painters and sculptors from the dawn of Christianity.
The chapels in the upper crypts are very interesting, with their statues and bas-reliefs covering the panelled niches which contain the holy relics. There is, in one of the chapels, a crucifix which St. Dominick used when he preached, and which he is said to have held up to animate the army of Simon de Montfort, at the great battle of Muret, when the Albigenses were decisively overthrown. Lacordaire says St. Dominick was not present at the battle, but remained in a chapel hard by, to pray, like Moses, with uplifted arms. One looks upon the crucifix with interest. It is of wood, blackened by time, and about a yard in length. The feet of the Christ are fastened one upon the other, in the Italian style.
One of the chapels bears the startling title of the Seven Sleepers, which would seem to savor of magic or oriental legend. They were seven Christians martyred at Ephesus, in the reign of Trajan, where, in the language of Scripture, they slept in the Lord. Their bodies having been found in the year 479, it was said, in mystic style, that they had awakened again, after a sleep of more than two hundred years. Honoring them collectively, it became a custom to call them the Seven Sleepers, and the Mohammedans have preserved the tradition as well as Christians. A chapel dedicated to them is rarely found; but Mrs. Jameson says they perpetually occur in the miniatures, sculpture, and stained glass of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. They are found in the chapel of Edward the Confessor at Westminster. Their statues, lying side by side on a bed of stone, were formerly in their chapel at St. Sernin, but only two of them now remain.
In the treasury of the abbey of St. Saturnin were formerly many curious and valuable objects. One of these, now in the museum at Toulouse, is the horn of Orlando, which, indeed, is ornamented with figures in the style of the age of Charlemagne. During the last days of Holy Week, when the bells were hushed during the awful days commemorating our Saviour's passion and death, the prolonged notes of this horn called the faithful to prayer. A similar one was used in the church of St. Orens at Auch, which is still carefully preserved. One loves whatever recalls Orlando, the type of Christian chivalry. Many a tradition of him lingers in this country. Roncesvalles claims to possess his armor, and Blaye his terrible sword and his tomb. In the country of the Escualdunae is the Pas de Roland, a gigantic footprint on a large rock. At the other extremity of the Pyrenees, in Roussillon, the long table of a Celtic dolmen is called by the people Le Palet de Roland; and large depressions in the form of a semi-circle, in this part of France, mark the passage of Orlando's steed—that steed over which, when dead, his master wept, begging his forgiveness if he had ever been ill-treated. The poet tells us the horse opened his eyes kindly on his master, and never stirred more.
One would like to think this the veritable horn of Orlando—which was so powerful, when sounded for the last time, that the very birds of the air fell dead, the Saracens fell back in terror, and Charlemagne and his court heard its notes afar off. There is far more enjoyment in accepting all these local traditions than in disputing their truth. Let us reserve our incredulity for so-called history.
From the tower of St. Sernin there is a magnificent view of the Pyrenees from sea to sea, and of a large extent of country full of historic and religious associations. Directly beneath is the old city of Toulouse, recalling Clemence Isaure and the golden violets, and the troubadours of an older time. St. Anthony of Padua frequented its famous schools. St. Dominick here founded the order of Preaching Friars, which has given so many doctors and missionaries to the church. St. Vincent Ferrier preached yonder in St. George's Square. In that same Place afterward preached Friar Thomas de Illirico against the excesses of the Carnival, and against all games of chance, with such effect that all the cards found in the shops were publicly burned and the trade of card-maker abolished. One day, after the preaching of this servant of God, the capitouls had placed on the five principal gates of the city a marble tablet which bore en relief the holy name of JESUS supported by angels—that name so powerful for defence that it makes the very demons tremble!
Another famous preacher of that time induced the capitouls to appoint four watchmen to patrol the city at night, from one till five, and chanting loudly: