Underground church--literally: Deep in a cave Huguenots worshiped in and hid out from royal dragoons

Cave Rouville, above st jean du Gard.

I'm sitting on a rock in an ancient grotto high above the Gard valley where Huguenots hid from royal dragoons, and where they worshiped the King of kings. There are soft drips of water into a pool, a massive flow of rock that has accumulated over the centuries, that looks like living rock, liquid, as if it were flowing out of the inner part of the cave. 

The hike here was very hot, lose slabby stones, easy to lose footing on, scrub oak trees and an occasional evergreen shrub. Just when I thought we would never get there, or that the trail, such as it was, would end and we would plummet to the Gard valley far below, the river snaking along far below us, a black hole appeared. It was suddenly cool, and the sound of the cicadas receded into a background noise. I still can hear them, but more muted by the vastness of the cavern.  It is oddly squared off almost as if the ceiling was tooled, but it is a roof made by God himself for a refuge. Here Huguenots, men, women, children, the elderly--hard to imagine as inaccessible as this place is, they would take to the high summits of the Cevennes. 

They had relative safety here. A sentinel vigilantly watching from near the mouth of the cave could easily see the river below, and could keep his eyes glued to the only place dragoons could cross at a bend in the river, where it was wider and they could ford with horses. Even then, royal dragoons intent on halting true worship would have their work cut out for them. It is remote, even dangerous to get here, especially for children and the elderly. Hard to imagine it. I just cleared my throat and the echo jolted me. Lionel sang a psalm in French, 118, to the melody, Toulon. The upside of their desolate condition is that they sang psalms in the best acoustics, made for them by the almighty himself.

I have never written on location in so unique a spot. My imagination takes me back to when footsore worshipers sat or stood or lay in the jumble of rocks that served as pews. There is a large rock set high at the inner end of the grotto used as a pulpit. Even a smaller rock for another pastor to sit on while he waits his turn to proclaim the gospel in this desolate place. Historians tell us that as many as 900 huguenots may have worshiped here at a single service.  I believe it.

There is a cross carved in the stones...

Bonds follow the Huguenots to Chateau D'If

After saying au revoir to our host Delphine (and explaining to her the weird thing that happened there, all in French since she speaks rien l'Alglais), we drove to the airport and picked up Brittany and Jesse, then to the old port in Marseille. Hey, Marseille! C'est tres beau ville! Then the bateaux to the island fortress of Chateau D'If.

Best known as the setting for Dumas' 1844 classic novel on revenge, there's a great deal more of significance here to those who love church history. Calvin dedicated his theological classic, The Institutes of the Christian Religion (1536) to King François I, and it was that same king who ordering the building of D'If (1529) as a royal fort to protect his war galleys anchored in Marseille. 

In the Huguenot wars beginning in 1562, D'If became a royal prison. Among with the mainland fortress overlooking the city, 3,500 Huguenots were held in the dungeons of this impregnable fortress. When Henry of Navarre was crowned Henry IV of France, staunchly Roman Catholic Marseille refused to acknowledge a one-time Huguenot as their king. Enclosure fortification raised to further resist Henry were destroyed by the king.

Another less important though interesting fact about Chateau D'If: The rhinoceros Protestant German artist Albrecht Dürer used for his famous woodcut (1513) made a stopover at the chateau on its way as a gift to Pope Leo X, chief nemesis of Martin Luther.

All that said, we had glorious weather for our great visit to the island fortress, Giles and Gillian running around like crazy children from the middle ages thoroughly enjoying the fortress and the rocky seaside, with water so clear you can see every detail on the bottom.

Then to our medieval maison clinging to the hillside topped by a 12th century castle. More on this episode coming soon!

First real day writing on Huguenot historical fiction--La Ciotat, France

Morning drive to Cassis, hairpin turns, single track road, breath-taking drop offs, magnificent panoramas of the Calanques and the Mediterranean Sea--now down to the business of getting back in character with my historical fiction work on the Huguenots. 

View out the window of our old world apartment in the south of France. You can almost see Jason Bourne leaping from the wall, the tile roofs clattering beneath his feet, cut-throat thugs hot on his heels.

And a few more groups shots of our tour group time in Geneva. 

Down-time Relaxing in The south of France--Huguenots country!

After our final goodbyes to our dear friends who joined us on this Reformation exploration tour, we got our Peugeot and headed off to La Ciotat and our Airbnb apartment in the old village on the Mediterranean Sea, Huguenot country. We grabbed some groceries at the Carrefour around the corner. Oh, I almost forgot, finding our apartment was rather exciting; I did the classic chase movie deal, driving down walking streets little wider than sidewalks, with old world stone houses rising above us, and passing through squares with cafes and Provencial French people looking at us like we had just been dropped from another planet. It was a crack up though Cheryl hides her face as we walked through the relatively small town market next morning, afraid that we will be recognized. Or dear friends Monica and Lionel and their children spent the first two nights of our stay and passed off the key to us. 

It is warm and sunny and the pace of southern France is exactly what we need right now. Plus the French is spoken so much slower and more easily understandable to us. Delightful time just outside our door at the morning market where we gathered food and a few other items we need. Then we gathered our things and went to the beach where I'm working on getting a ten like my friend Rick (like that will ever happen, me not being exactly the tanning type, but still just soaking up the vitamin d felt awfully good). This is the town where the Lumiere brothers made the first film in 1895, so there is some other history to explore also. 

Yes, I am going to do some writing this afternoon at a church built 600 years ago; sites, sounds, smells from an area where Huguenots suffered, fled for their lives, and some died. Giles and Gillian can watch a half hour of Hogans Heroes and then they have to watch a half hour of French cartoons, part of the summers regiment of learning French.

We shopped for grand baby clothes at the market, anxiously awaiting our second grandchild in the days ahead. Olives, cauliflower and beans, sunglasses, french picnic knife, and a few other items. I slept like a rock last night!

Here's pictures from our first day on our own: