three places mentioned, there is present not a little of
the romance and history of the past, reflected as it were in a modern
mirror. Not but that the old town of St. Malo, within the walls, is
ancient and picturesque enough, and dirty, too, if one be speciously
critical; but the fact is that the modern Pont Roulant, and the omnific
toot of the steam-tram, ever present in one's sight and hearing, are
forcible reminders of the march of time.
St. Servan, so far as its cathedral is concerned, may be dismissed in a
word. The ancient see of St. Pierre d'Aleth had, at one time, its
dignity vested in a bishop who enthroned himself in a cathedral, the
remains of which exist to-day only as a fragment built into the
fortifications. The bishopric was removed in 1142 to St. Malo.
With St. Malo a difference exists. Its cathedral, now degenerated to a
parish church, is a Gothic work mainly of the fifteenth century, and,
regardless of its unimposing qualities, is one of those fascinating old
buildings which, in its environment and surroundings, appeals perhaps
more largely to us as a component of a whole than as a feature to be
admired by itself. The church, safely sheltered from the ravage of gale
and storm, sits amid narrow winding streets, whose buildings are so
compressed as to rise to heights unusual in the smaller Continental
towns.
The edifice is mainly of the fifteenth century, but has been variously
renovated and restored. Gothic, Renaissance, and the transition between
the two are plainly discernible throughout. Perhaps the best art to be
noted is that found in the interior of the choir, with its fine
triforium and clerestory windows above. Here, again, is to be observed
the squared east end of the English contemporary church, a further
reminder, if it be needed, of the influences which were bound to be more
or less exchanged with regard to the arts and customs of the time, on
both shores of _La Manche_.
A few features of passing interest are here, an ivory crucifix, a few
tombs, and some indifferent paintings.
The spire is modern, but gives a suggestion, at least, in viewing the
city from a distance, of something of what a mediaeval walled seaport,
with its population huddled close beneath the shadow of the church, and
within the city walls, must have been like. The best example of this
which ever existed in mediaeval France, and which exists to-day in a more
than ordinary remarkable state of preservation, is the
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