Part 21 (1/2)
”The vampire is to be seen--smacking his lips--thirsting, ravening, for BLOOD. A live rabbit will be offered him; he will roll his eyes, look at the human beings present, try the bars of his cage--he cannot reach them.
En fin, a rabbit is better than nothing! Mesdames, je vous implore! Do not bring your babes within. A stern necessity--a care for the consequences would prevent me from admitting them. The sight of a human babe rouses in the vampire the sanguinary pa.s.sion to a paroxysm of frenzy. In its natural state the vampire sucks the blood of men. This vampire has sucked that of KINGS, and to have to descend to--RABBIT!”
[Ill.u.s.tration: At Vienne.]
I did not expend my sous to see the wretched bat, but I did lavish thirty centimes on the amphitrite next door. The programme was so characteristically French that I give it:--
”Amphitrite vivante. Tous les soirs au couche du soleil elle laisse son palais royal de coraux et d'algues, et sort des vagues sombres pour jouir de son amour ideal. Legere et vaporeuse comme un ange, elle caresse les ondes, et observe d'un doux regard son ideal, et replonge au fond de l'ocean. Depeindre avec quelle perfection on presente cette experience au public est impossible!!!”
Thirty centimes, reserved seats; twenty, unreserved. As it turned out, there were no seats at all, but a slushy soil on which one stood, where the water had run in under the sides of the booth, and which sightseers had, with their boots, churned into mud.
I supposed I was to see a nautilus; it was legere et vaporeux, it could not then be a seal. No, a nautilus. Thirty centimes--here goes for a sight of the nautilus. But it was touching to observe the confidence of the showman.
He refused the entrance fee.
”No, gentlemen. You shall yourselves decide whether the amphitrite is worth six sous. If you say not--go forth; I am content, but I pity you.”
A piece of drugget served as a curtain, which cut off what may be termed the stage. At a signal the drugget was withdrawn, and the spectators looked into a cave, the sides made of painted calico. Beyond this was the rippling ocean, with the evening sun sparkling on it, much like the scene in ”Oberon,” only on a very small scale, and with no stage. At a word from the showman, Amphitrite arose. By Ginger! not a nautilus, not a seal, but a living girl of sixteen summers, in fles.h.i.+ngs, who floated in the air, made revolutions, waved her hands, stood on her head, touching nothing, precisely as if she really were devoid of all specific gravity. Only when hand or foot touched the calico-rocks did these same rocks begin to wave about.
I supposed at the time, I suppose still, that the trick is done by means of mirrors. But _how_--I cannot conceive. Presently the hat went round for Amphitrite's special benefit: her _amour ideal_ had something of the sordid mammon in it. As everyone put a copper into the hat, ”Merci, monsieur; merci, madame!” was what she said. So that there is a difficulty in supposing that the phenomenon was achieved by reflectors. She watched and acknowledged every offering made, as she calmly folded her arms and floated in mid-air, with head on one side, observant.
I can't explain it--I am puzzled still. I paid my thirty centimes with alacrity, so did every one else. The show was worth the money.
There was a merry-go-round--a _carousel_; the only feature in it with which I was unfamiliar was a s.h.i.+p, sails spread, on a pivot athwart the ring, so that it swayed as on a rolling sea when the _carousel_ was in revolution. I would not have entered that s.h.i.+p for twenty francs. Before the orchestrion that accompanied the merry-go-round had accomplished the first strain of Strauss's waltz I should have been feebly calling for the steward. I observed that those silly youngsters with nautical proclivities who did scramble into the swaying s.h.i.+p, got out with livid lips, and did not ask to go in again.
Some years ago I was at Innspruck with a friend. We were sauntering together in the afternoon, not exactly knowing what to do with ourselves, when we found one of these _carousels_. We went farther; then I said, ”We will return and go and see the Xaverianum”--a collection of paintings, mostly daubs, at Innspruck. ”No,” said my companion, ”I don't feel inclined for the Xaverianum, I'll go down by the river.” So we parted. Now, I had not gone far along my way in the direction of the Xaverianum, before I said to myself, ”I don't want to see the Xaverianum either; but, as my friend is away--upon my word--I am unknown here! I'll--yes, I will--by Jove, I will--I'll go and have a round on the whirligig.”
So I retraced my steps, and, on reaching the merry-go-round, what should I behold but my friend seated on a piebald horse, with a short sword in his hand, aiming at the targets he pa.s.sed in his revolution. He was a bald-headed man, with a long grey beard. His face and head became like a beetroot when he saw me; but I comforted him. At Wurzburg, in the Episcopal palace, is a _carousel_, in which the bishop--a prince elector--was wont on rainy days to go round and round, seated in a purple velvet chair with the Episcopal arms embroidered on the curtains, and the mitre over it.
Enough of the fair. Now to graver matters; and first the temple of Augustus and Livia. I do not know whether it was that the weather was gloomy, or that the fair had set me out of tune for antiquities; but somehow this temple did not impress me as did the dear little Maison Carree at Nimes.
For one thing the stone is dingy, whereas that of Nimes is bright and white; and the proportions did not please me. I believe the knowing ones say that the Nimes temple is not proportioned according to the laws of Vitruvius, and this at Vienne is. If that be the case, then I am sorry for Vitruvius. The temple is structurally perfect--as perfect as that of Nimes.
Another object of interest is the Aiguille, a Roman obelisk seventy-six feet high. There is a square base, pierced by arches in each face, and the obelisk, or pyramid rather, stands on this. It is not very beautiful, but it is worth examining. It is thought that the monument to Marius at Pourrieres was somewhat similar.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Hurdy-Gurdy Played by an Angel.]
The cathedral of Vienne is of sandstone, and has decayed accordingly.
The west end, which was very rich, and is rich still, has suffered from corrosion in the upper part; but a firmer, less friable sandstone was fortunately employed for the lower stage, in which is the richest sculpture, and that is fairly perfect. Murray pooh-poohs this west front: ”It is rich in flamboyant ornaments, but they are clumsy and without delicacy.” The sculpture was adapted to the material, and any other would not have looked well. After the severe and bald west fronts in Provence, I was disposed, I suppose, to be pleased with the rich facade at Vienne. I confess that ”clumsy and without delicacy” though it might be, I thoroughly enjoyed it. But that facade caught me quite by my weak point. There is a central doorway, and one into each aisle, and round the archways into these lateral doors are sculptured angels playing upon musical instruments. As I have told the reader, ancient forms of musical instruments are my hobby, or rather one of my hobbies. I at once pulled out my sketch-book and drew them; there are angels with fiddles, angels with viols--no, not hurdy-gurdys!--but tw.a.n.ged with the fingers, angels with pipes and horns, one with a harp, two with portable organs of ten pipes in each, two angels with bagpipes with single drones. Conceive of a salutation on bagpipes from the celestial choir! An angel plays the cymbals, and another with a plectrum strikes a metal disc.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Church of S. Andre-le-Bas. The Tower.]
The interior of the cathedral is remarkable for the peculiarly fine sculpture of the capitals of the pillars. The foliage is of exquisite loveliness and variety; but over the transept door is a very Brueghel creation of horrors--in fact, the zodiacal signs worked up together into a nightmare.
A church of remarkable interest in Vienne is S. Andre-le-Bas; it has in it two Roman marble Corinthian columns supporting the arch of the apse, and a Corinthian capital used as a font.
The situation of Vienne is remarkable, it resembles one of the towns on the Rhine, where the river is contracted among hills.
The mountains rise immediately behind the city, and are crowned with old castles. The s.p.a.ce between the river and the bases of the heights is small, and the city is somewhat cramped accordingly. But the Gere issues from the hills on the north, and gives some scope for the suburbs of the old town to creep up its banks.
Vienne is one of the most ancient towns of Gaul, it was the capital of the Allobroges; it claims as the founder of the Church there Crescens, disciple of S. Paul. Crescens, it will be remembered, was sent by Paul into Galatia.