ror at
Lillebonne, with the express object of regulating privileges, not a
word was said by the Archbishop of Rouen there present about the most
extraordinary privilege enjoyed by his chapter. It is only at the
beginning of the thirteenth century that the inevitable quarrels
between the civil and ecclesiastical powers over a criminal claimed by
both can first be traced; and it may be safely argued that while the
privilege was not questioned it did not exist. It is as late as 1394
that the first mention of the famous "Gargouille" itself occurs in any
reputable document. It was not till a twenty-second of May 1425, that
Henry, King of France and England, did command the Bishop of Bayeux
and Raoul le Sage to inquire into the "usage et coutume d'exercer le
privilege de Saint Romain"; for the good reason that in this year the
chapter desired to release, by the exercise of their privilege, one
Geoffroy Cordeboeuf, who had slain an Englishman. In 1485, one
Etienne Tuvache, was summoned to uphold the privilege before the "Lit
de Justice" of Charles VIII. on the 27th of April; and in 1512 we find
the definite confirmation of the privilege by Louis XII.; and even yet
there are only a few confused and vague rumours of the "Gargouille"
and its saintly conqueror.

There are, therefore, far more numerous and more authentic traces of
the privilege than of the miracle; the effect is undoubted; it remains
to conjecture its prime cause; and as I shall show at greater length
in its right place, there is every reason to believe that the origin
of the privilege was one of the great Mystery Plays of the Ascension,
and that it was first exercised between 1135 and 1145. As the custom
grew into a privilege, and the privilege crystallised into a right,
ecclesiastical advocates were never at a loss to bring divine
authority to their aid in their championship of the chapter's powers;
the "Gargouille," in fact, was "created" after the "privilege" had
become established; and for us the chief merit of the tale lies in the
fact that it preserves the national memory of St. Romain's firm stand
against the old dragon of idolatry and paganism, whose last remnants
were swept out of Normandy by his firm and militant Christianity.[10]

[Footnote 10: He certainly pulled down the Amphitheatre, and destroyed
the Temple of Venus, and the loss of both of these was likely to be
well remembered for some time by the inhabitants. It is suggested that
the Temple of