ould have been besieged successfully, and even
battered through to the extent of allowing the outside foe to enter, but
it would probably have been at a fearful cost, and it is possible that
the attempt would be given up before any surrender took place. Such
would appear to an outsider to be the lines on which these magnificent
works of feudal times were built.

One should not speak slightingly of the Cathedral of St. Maurice, though
it comes upon one who journeys from the north, as a thing apart from
anything he has met before; so much so that he is hardly likely to be
able to judge it dispassionately until he has turned his impressions of
it many times over in his mind.

The Angevine style, seen here, is representative of but a very
restricted area. The _Societe des Monuments Historiques_ defined it as
"a small district on both sides of the Loire between Normandy and
Acquitaine." It is suggestive of the Roman manner, far more than the
Gothic; though the primitiveness shown in the long, upright lines of the
west front of this cathedral marks it at once as something different
from either Romanesque or Transition,--though Transition it must be,
unless we delimit the confines of that useful term. In any case, it
points unto heaven in a truly devout manner, is not debased in any
particular, and, if not a consistent style, has many of the good
qualities of both. The Cathedral of St. Maurice is best seen from a
point of view which will exaggerate its height, its slimness, and its
straight and upright lines; but even this does not appear to work out to
its disadvantage, in spite of the new note it strikes. It is an
interesting work when viewed from any distance sufficient to throw its
outline well into the air. From across the Maine, it is charming; from
the foot of the stairwayed street which runs downwards from its western
portal, it is picturesque and irresistible, while from any other
view-point in the town, it is grand.

The easterly end is dwarfed by close-lying houses, picturesque enough in
themselves; but the gracefulness of the buttress is wanting. The south
side is, here and there, broken into by additions and interpolations,
none apparently of a contemporary era. It offers a grand effect for an
artist who would study gray walls and crumbling roofs, but the lack of
uniformity will offend most people.

The facade of the west is the most effective feature, so far as
genuineness is concerned. It towers to the sky,