My love of ecclesiastical architecture quickly induced me to visit the CHURCHES; and I set out with two English gentlemen to pay our respects to the principal church, St. JAQUES.  As we entered it, a general gloom prevailed, and a sort of premature evening came on; while the clatter of the sabots was sufficiently audible along the aisles.  In making the circuit of the side chapels, an unusual light proceeded from a sort of grated door way.  We approached, and witnessed a sight which could not fail to rivet our attention.  In what seemed to be an excavated interior, were several figures, cut in stone, and coloured after life, (of which they were the size) representing the Three Maries, St. John, and Joseph of Arimathea.. in the act of entombing Christ:  the figure of our Saviour being half sunk into the tomb.  The whole was partially illuminated by some two dozen of shabby and nearly consumed tallow candles; affording a striking contrast to the increasing darkness of the nave and the side aisles.  We retired, more and more struck with the novelty of every object around us, to our supper and beds, which were excellent; and a good night’s rest made me forget the miseries of the preceding evening.

The next morning, being Sunday, we betook ourselves in good time to the service of ST. JAQUES:[27] but on our way thither, we saw a waxen figure of Christ (usually called an “Ecce Homo”) enclosed within a box, of which the doors were opened.  The figure and box are the property of the man who plays on a violin, close to the box; and who is selling little mass books, supposed to be rendered more sacred by having been passed across the feet and hands of the waxen Christ.  Such a mongrel occupation, and such a motley group, must strike you with astonishment—­as a Sunday morning’s recreation.

[Illustration]

By half past ten the congregation had assembled within the Church; and every side-chapel (I think about twelve in number) began to be filled by the penitent flocks:  each bringing, or hiring, a rush-bottomed chair—­with which the churches are pretty liberally furnished, and of which the Tarif (or terms of hire) is pasted upon the walls.  There were, I am quite sure, full eighteen women to one man:  which may in part be accounted for, by the almost uniform absence of a third of the male population occupied in the fisheries.  I think there could not have been fewer than two thousand souls present.  But what struck me as the most ludicrously solemn thing I had ever beheld, was a huge tall figure, dressed like a drum-major, with a large cocked hat and three white plumes, (the only covered male figure in the congregation,) a broad white sash upon a complete suit of red, including red stockings;—­representing what in our country is called a Beadle.  He was a sturdy, grim-looking fellow; bearing an halberd in his right hand, which he wielded with a sort of pompous swing, infusing terror into the young, and commanding the