At the beginning of October 1533, the ancient city of the Phocæans was in a state of great excitement; the King of France and the pope were coming; what an honour! It is well known that the inhabitants of that city are quick, enthusiastic, and fond of show and parade. Watchmen had been placed on the highest points to telegraph the approaching fleet. At length, on the 4th of October, the castles of If and Notre Dame de la Garde suddenly gave the looked-for signals. One cry only was heard in the streets of Marseilles: 'The flotilla with the pope on board has come in sight.'[469] A feverish agitation pervaded the city; the sound of trumpets, clarions, and hautboys filled the air; the people hurried to the harbour. Nobles and prelates went on board the ships that had been kept ready; their sails were unfurled, and in a short time this extemporised fleet saluted that of the pope with deafening acclamations. Many devout catholics trembled with joy and admiration; they could hardly believe their eyes. 'Behold the real representative of Christ,' they said, 'the father of all christians, the only man who can at will give new laws to the Church;[470] the man who has never been mistaken and never will be; whose name is alone in the world, _vice-God_ upon earth.'[471] Clement smiled: in Italy he had never heard such exclamations or witnessed such enthusiasm. O France! truly art thou the eldest daughter of the Church! He did not know that vanity, curiosity, love of pomp, and a fondness for noise had much to do with this rapture, and that France, like her king Clovis, worships what it has cast down, and casts down what it has worshipped. The pope had no leisure to indulge in such reflections. At the moment his galley entered the harbour, three hundred pieces of artillery fired a salute. Notre Dame de la Garde, the tower of St. John, the abbey of St. Victor, the harbour and its vicinity were all on fire.[472]