There was a great procession organized in 1590, during the siege of Paris by Henri IV. Sermons were preached against "Le Béarnais," the clergy took up arms, and the pope's legate promised the palm of martyrdom to all who fell in the holy cause. The day after the first assault, the procession took place. The principal heroes of the League, after shaving head and face, marched first, vested in "_camail and rochet_," and bearing sword and "_partisan_." Then came a number of monks in order of battle, shouldering their axes and arquebuses, "dans un accoutrement moitié religieux et moitié militaire qui avait quelque chose de burlesque et de terrible à la fois. L'Eglise militante chantant des hymnes entremêlées de salves de mousqueterie. Ils défilèrent devant le legat, qui les traita de vrais Machabées; pour que quelques-uns mériterent à la défense des remparts." But it did not save them from starvation. [Illustration: NOTRE-DAME BY MOONLIGHT.] There was at one time a mass said for the idle at "la plus haute heure du matin. Ainsi qu'en d'aucunes paroisses de Paris, il y a la messe d'unze heures." This was suppressed in 1722 by the Cardinal de Noailles, archbishop of Paris. It was founded by the kindly regular canon, Jean Le Moyne, and its revenues were applied to the _bénéficiers machicots_ and _clercs du matins_. The _machicots_ were officers of the church of Notre-Dame inferior to the _bénéficiers_, and superior to the simple wage-singers. The word _machicotage_ "se dit de certaines additions des notes, suivant une merche diatonique avec lesquelles on remplessait dans le plain chant les intervalles du tierces et autres." A number of corona hang from the vault, and in the crossing of the transepts is a huge one recalling that of Hildesheim. When lighted during the services of Holy Week, just giving a gentle diffused glimmer, the effect is very fine; never, indeed, are these great churches so grand as at the evening services. The mass of men sitting in the nave (it is reserved for them), the deep roar of their voices as they sing the _Miserere_, the intense silence during the eloquent discourses of Père Monsabré or some other Dominican, the procession, dimly lighted, of old canons in every stage of decrepitude, the small boys, followed by a crowd of the most unharmonious specimens of humanity, carrying tapers, are elements forming a picture which is uniquely picturesque. In the old days before the war, the graceful, sweet-expressioned archbishop, bending to this side and that, while the faithful kissed his episcopal ring and received his blessing, added to the beauty of the scene. Had we known what was in store for him, it would have added also to the pathos. NOTRE-DAME DE L'ASSOMPTION.