eated a grassy level at the foot of the big grey towers,
which, rising at frequent intervals, stretch their stiff curtain of
stone from point to point: the curtain drops without a fold upon the
quiet grass, which was dotted here and there with a humble native dozing
away the golden afternoon. The natives of the elder Carcassonne are all
humble; for the core of the Cite has shrunken and decayed, and there is
little life among the ruins. A few tenacious labourers who work in the
neighbouring fields or in the _ville-basse_, and sundry octogenarians of
both sexes, who are dying where they have lived and contribute much to
the pictorial effect--these are the principal inhabitants. The process
of converting the place from an irresponsible old town into a conscious
"specimen" has of course been attended with eliminations; the population
has, as a general thing, been restored away. I should lose no time in
saying that restoration is the great mark of the Cite. M. Viollet-le-Duc
has worked his will upon it, put it into perfect order, revived the
fortifications in every detail. I do not pretend to judge the
performance, carried out on a scale and in a spirit which really impose
themselves on the imagination. Few architects have had such a chance,
and M. Viollet-le-Duc must have been the envy of the whole restoring
fraternity. The image of a more crumbling Carcassonne rises in the mind,
and there is no doubt that forty years ago the place was more affecting.
On the other hand, as we see it to-day it is a wonderful evocation; and
if there is a great deal of new in the old, there is plenty of old in
the new. The repaired crenellations, the inserted patches of the walls
of the outer circle, sufficiently express this commixture. My walk
brought me into full view of the Pyrenees, which, now that the sun had
begun to sink and the shadows to grow long, had a wonderful violet glow.
The platform at the base of the walls has a greater width on this side,
and it made the scene more complete. Two or three old crones had
crawled out of the Porte Narbonnaise to examine the advancing visitor;
and a very ancient peasant, lying there with his back against a tower,
was tending half a dozen lean sheep. A poor man in a very old blouse,
crippled and with crutches lying beside him, had been brought out and
placed on a stool, where he enjoyed the afternoon as best he might. He
looked so ill and so patient that I spoke to him; found that his legs
were para