has pleased the changing mind when it
has attempted to worship in stone.

Thus the transept is simply an old square barn of rough stone, older,
I suppose, than Charlemagne and without any ornament. In its lower
courses I thought I even saw the Roman brick. It had once two towers,
northern and southern; the southern is ruined and has a wooden roof,
the northern remains and is just a pinnacle or minaret too narrow for
bells.

Then the apse is pure and beautiful Gothic of the fourteenth century,
with very tall and fluted windows like single prayers. The ambulatory
is perfectly modern, Gothic also, and in the manner that Viollet le
Duc in France and Pugin in England have introduced to bring us back to
our origins and to remind us of the place whence all we Europeans
came. Again, this apse and ambulatory are not perpendicular to the
transept, but set askew, a thing known in small churches and said to
be a symbol, but surely very rare in large ones. The western door is
purely Romanesque, and has Byzantine ornaments and a great deep round
door. To match it there is a northern door still deeper, with rows and
rows of inner arches full of saints, angels, devils, and flowers; and
this again is not straight, but so built that the arches go aslant, as
you sometimes see railway bridges when they cross roads at an angle.
Finally, there is a central tower which is neither Gothic nor
Romanesque but pure Italian, a loggia, with splendid round airy
windows taking up all its walls, and with a flat roof and eaves. This
some one straight from the south must have put on as a memory of his
wanderings.

The barn-transept is crumbling old grey stone, the Romanesque porches
are red, like Strasburg, the Gothic apse is old white as our
cathedrals are, the modern ambulatory is of pure white stone just
quarried, and thus colours as well as shapes are mingled up and
different in this astonishing building.

I drew it from that point of view in the market-place to the
north-east which shows most of these contrasts at once, and you must
excuse the extreme shakiness of the sketch, for it was taken as best I
could on an apple-cart with my book resting on the apples--there was
no other desk. Nor did the apple-seller mind my doing it, but on the
contrary gave me advice and praise saying such things as--

'Excellent; you have caught the angle of the apse... Come now, darken
the edge of that pillar... I fear you have made the tower a little
confused,'