ignon the Palace of the Popes]

I did wrong, just above, to speak of my attack on this establishment as
the only recreation I took that first wet day; for I remember a terribly
moist visit to the former palace of the Popes, which could have taken
place only in the same tempestuous hours. It is true that I scarcely
know why I should have gone out to see the Papal palace in the rain, for
I had been over it twice before, and even then had not found the
interest of the place so complete as it ought to be; the fact
nevertheless remains that this last occasion is much associated with an
umbrella, which was not superfluous even in some of the chambers and
corridors of the gigantic pile. It had already seemed to me the
dreariest of all historical buildings, and my final visit confirmed the
impression. The place is as intricate as it is vast, and as desolate as
it is dirty. The imagination has, for some reason or other, to make more
than the effort usual in such cases to restore and repeople it. The fact
indeed is simply that the palace has been so incalculably abused and
altered. The alterations have been so numerous that, though I have duly
conned the enumerations, supplied in guide-books, of the principal

[Illustration: AVIGNON--THE CHURCH]

perversions, I do not pretend to carry any of them in my head. The huge
bare mass, without ornament, without grace, despoiled of its battlements
and defaced with sordid modern windows, covering the Rocher des Doms and
looking down over the Rhone and the broken bridge of Saint-Benazet
(which stops in such a sketchable manner in mid-stream), and across at
the lonely tower of Philippe le Bel and the ruined wall of Villeneuve,
makes at a distance, in spite of its poverty, a great figure, the effect
of which is carried out by the tower of the church beside it (crowned
though the latter be, in a top-heavy fashion, with an immense modern
image of the Virgin) and by the thick, dark foliage of the garden laid
out on a still higher portion of the eminence. This garden recalls
faintly and a trifle perversely the grounds of the Pincian at Rome. I
know not whether it is the shadow of the Papal name, present in both
places, combined with a vague analogy between the churches--which,
approached in each case by a flight of steps, seemed to defend the
precinct--but each time I have seen the Promenade des Doms it has
carried my thoughts to the wider and loftier terrace from which you look
away at the Tib