The similarity of S. Saturninus’ devotion to that of the present day is remarkable—devotion to Mary and the Chair of Peter. Everywhere he erected churches in their honor, as at Elusa, now the town of Eauze. At Auch he dedicated a church to the Prince of the Apostles, where now stands the little church of S. Pierre, on the other side of the Gers, once burned down by the Huguenots.
The paintings of the Stations of the Cross in the cathedral were given by a poor servant girl, whose heart at the hour of death turned towards the sanctuary where she had so often experienced the benefit of meditating on the Sacred Passion that she was desirous of inciting others to so salutary a devotion.
In one of the chapels is a monument to the memory of M. d’Etigny, whose statue is on the public promenade—the last Intendant of the province, who employed a part of his immense fortune in building the fine roads that lead to the watering-places in the Pyrenees, which have added so much to the prosperity of the country. But he was one of those cui bono men who always sacrifice the picturesque and the interesting on some plea of public utility. He destroyed the mediæval character of the city, with its narrow streets, curious overhanging houses—of which a few specimens are left—and ancient walls with low arched gateways, made when mules alone were used for bringing in merchandise. When any sacrifice is to be made, why must it always fall on what appeals to the eye and the imagination? Why must some people insist on effacing the venerable records of past ages to make room for their own utilitarian views? There are too many of such palimpsests. Is not the world large enough for all human tastes to find room to express themselves?
We had, however, no reason to grumble at M. d’Etigny’s fine roads among the mountains, which saved us, in many instances, from being transported like the ancient merchandise of Auch, and we nearly forgot his enormities when we found ourselves at Bagnères-de-Luchon under the shade of the fine trees he planted in the Cours d’Etigny, where tourists and invalids love to gather in the evening.
M. d’Etigny also took an interest in the religious prosperity of the country. On the corner-stone of a church at Vic Fezensac is the inscription: Dominus d’Etigny me posuit, 1760. This church was built by Père Pascal, a Franciscan, out of the ruins of the old castle of the Counts of Fezensac, which he obtained permission to use in spite of the town authorities, by applying to Mme. de Pompadour, then all-powerful at court. Do not suppose the good friar paid the least homage to wickedness in high places by so doing. On the contrary, he boldly began his petition: “Madame, redeem your sins by your alms.” Instead of taking offence, the duchess profited by the counsel. The père, returning from Auch with the royal permission, met some of his opponents, wholly unsuspicious of the truth, to whose pleasantries he replied: “Let me pass. I am exhausted, for I carry in my cowl the ruins of the castle of Vic.”
Auch in those days was only lighted by the lamps that hung before the niches of the Virgin, and the only night-watchman up to the last century was the crier, who went about the streets at midnight calling aloud on the people to be mindful of their soul’s salvation and pray for the dead. This practice was called the miseremini, because the crier sometimes made use of the words of Job sung in the Mass for the Dead: Miseremini, miseremini mei, vos saltem amici mei, quia manus Domini tetigit me—“Have pity on me, have pity on me, O ye my friends! for the hand of the Lord hath touched me.” It was also called the Reveillé, from the beginning of the verses he sometimes chanted:
“Réveille-toi, peuple Chrétien,
Réveille-toi, c’est pour ton bien.
Quitte ton lit, prend tes habits,
Pense à la mort de Jésus Christ.