224
A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE.
as if it had been hollowed out by the  sincerity of
early faith,  and it opens into a cloister as impressive
as itself.    Wherever one goes, in France, one meets,
looking backward  a little, the spectre of the  great
Revolution; and one meets it always in the shape ot
the  destruction of something beautiful and precious.
To make us forgive it at all, how much it must also
have   destroyed  that  was  more  hateful  than   itself !
Beneath the church of Montmajour is a most extra-
ordinary crypt,   almost   as big  as the edifice  above
it, and making a complete subterranean temple, sur-
rounded  with   a   circular   gallery,   or   deambulatory,
which expands  at intervals into five square chapels.
There are other things, of which I have but a con-
fused memory:  a great fortified keep; a queer little
primitive chapel, hollowed out of the rock, beneath
these   later   structures,   and   recommended   to   the
visitor's attention as  the  confessional of  Saint   Iro-
phimus, who shares with so many worthies the glory
of being the first apostle of the Gauls.    Then there
is a strange, small church, of the dimmest antiquity
standing at a distance  from the other buildings.    1
remember  that   after we had   let ourselves  down  a
good many steepish places to visit crypts and con-
fessionals, we walked across a field to this  archaic
cruciform edifice, and went thence to a point further
down   the   road,   where   our  carriage  was   awaiting
us    The chapel of the Holy Cross,  as it is called,
is classed among the historic monuments of France;
and I read   in a  queer,   rambling,   ill-written   book