ail, but the man who wishes to know the old hill-towns of France, to
see them as they seemed to their makers, and realise their one-time
magnificence and strength, must walk from one town to the next, and
climb their steep heights; must see great towers rise before him, great
walls loom above him, and realise how grandly strong these places were
when it was man to man and sword to sword, strength against strength. He
must arrive, dust-covered, at the cities' gates or drive into their
narrow streets on the small coach which still passes through,--for they
are of the times when great men rode and peasants walked and steam was
all unknown. Then he will realise how very large the world once was, how
far from town to town; and once within those high, protecting walls, he
will understand why the citizen of mediaeval days found in his town a
world sufficient to itself, and why he was so often well content to
spend his life at home.

The power and the force of an isolated, self-concentrated interest is
well illustrated in the history of the free cities of the Middle Ages,
and Grasse may be counted one of these. Counts she had in name; but the
Berengers and Queen Jeanne had granted her charters which she had the
power to keep; she was once wealthy enough to declare war with Pisa, and
in the XII century the leaders of her self-government were "Consuls by
the grace of God alone." Therefore when Antibes continued to be greatly
menaced by blasphemous pirates, the Bishopric was removed to Grasse,
rich, strong, and safe behind the hills, where it endured from 1244,
through all the perils of the centuries, until by a pen-stroke Napoleon
wiped it out in 1801.

[Illustration: "HIGHER THAN THEM ALL STANDS THE CATHEDRAL."--GRASSE.]

To come to Grasse on foot or in the stage, will well repay the traveller
of old-fashioned moods and fancies. Afar, her houses seem to crowd
together, as they used to crowd within the walls, her red roofs rise
fantastically one above the other, and higher than them all stands the
Cathedral with its firm, square tower. Such must have been old Grasse,
perched on the summit of her hill. But once inside the town, these
illusions cease. Here are the hotels and the Casino of a thermal
station, and the factories of a new world. The traveller finds that the
broad upper boulevards are filled with tourists and smart English
visitors; and in the narrow streets pert factory-hands come noisily from
work. Still he climbs on