BOOK SIXTH.
CHAPTER 2. THE RAT-HOLE.
(continued)
Moreover, although people were but little surprised by it,
the examples of this sort of cloistration in the hearts of cities
were in truth frequent, as we have just said. There were in
Paris a considerable number of these cells, for praying to God
and doing penance; they were nearly all occupied. It is true
that the clergy did not like to have them empty, since that
implied lukewarmness in believers, and that lepers were put
into them when there were no penitents on hand. Besides the
cell on the Grève, there was one at Montfauçon, one at the
Charnier des Innocents, another I hardly know where,--at
the Clichon House, I think; others still at many spots where
traces of them are found in traditions, in default of memorials.
The University had also its own. On Mount Sainte-Geneviève
a sort of Job of the Middle Ages, for the space of thirty
years, chanted the seven penitential psalms on a dunghill
at the bottom of a cistern, beginning anew when he had
finished, singing loudest at night, magna voce per umbras,
and to-day, the antiquary fancies that he hears his voice
as he enters the Rue du Puits-qui-parle--the street of the
"Speaking Well."
To confine ourselves to the cell in the Tour-Roland, we must
say that it had never lacked recluses. After the death of
Madame Roland, it had stood vacant for a year or two,
though rarely. Many women had come thither to mourn,
until their death, for relatives, lovers, faults. Parisian
malice, which thrusts its finger into everything, even into
things which concern it the least, affirmed that it had beheld
but few widows there.
In accordance with the fashion of the epoch, a Latin
inscription on the wall indicated to the learned passer-by the
pious purpose of this cell. The custom was retained until
the middle of the sixteenth century of explaining an edifice
by a brief device inscribed above the door. Thus, one still
reads in France, above the wicket of the prison in the seignorial
mansion of Tourville, Sileto et spera; in Ireland, beneath
the armorial bearings which surmount the grand door to
Fortescue Castle, Forte scutum, salus ducum; in England,
over the principal entrance to the hospitable mansion of the
Earls Cowper: Tuum est. At that time every edifice was
a thought.
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