ernance of the
abbots of Conques. In the eleventh century, the discord between the
two monasteries had reached such a pass that popes and councils were
appealed to to settle the question of priority. In 1096 the Council of
Nimes laid down a _modus vivendi_ without pronouncing upon the
principle. It was decreed that the abbots of Figeac should thenceforth
be independent of the abbots of Conques.

The monks of Conques appear to have followed originally the rule of
St. Martin, and to have adopted that of St. Benedict soon after its
introduction into France. The abbey of Figeac was therefore always
Benedictine. About the year 900 the monks began to cultivate learning,
their labour having previously been devoted almost exclusively to the
soil. A certain Abbot Adhelard set them to copy manuscripts, and in
course of time Figeac possessed a valuable library, of which the
religious wars of the sixteenth century and the Revolution have left
very few traces.

The first half of the eleventh century was full of turmoil, trouble,
and torment. The 'blood-rain' that fell all over Aquitaine, and which
made people watch in terror for what might come next, was followed by
a three years' famine, which drove men in their hunger to prey upon
one another. The inns were man-traps; solitary travellers who ventured
inside of them were killed and devoured. Those were not good wayfaring
days. A man actually offered human flesh for sale in the market of
Tournus; but he was burnt alive. During this frightful period, the
Abbot of Figeac distinguished himself by his charity, and, in order to
find work for the unemployed, built a wall round the burg; but the
monastery was much impoverished in consequence.

Towards the close of the eleventh century four slender
obelisks--called 'needles' in the country--were set up on the hills
around Figeac apparently to mark the boundaries of the _sauvete_; for
the abbey enjoyed the right of sanctuary. Two of these needles still
exist. According to an absurd story, which has been repeated by
various writers, misled by the forgeries already mentioned, the monks,
when they came to this part of the valley of the Cele, found it an
uninhabited wilderness without a name, and somebody exclaimed, 'Fige
acus!' ('Set up needles!'), when the question of marking the boundary
was being discussed. This ingenious explanation of the word Figeac
will not bear examination.

Every traveller in Aquitaine must have been struck by the