THE GARDEN OF ILLIERS ~IDamoiseau, the 'epicerie Borange' of Combray, which was also
the telephone-exchange and the only bookshop in IIIiers. On
either side of the door, 'more mysterious and teeming with ideas
than the porch of a cathedral', 'a mosaic of books and magazines"
still hangs. Friday, in our time, is still market-day; the cobble-
stones are strewn with straw, cauliflowers, hobnailed boots, iron-
mongery and carpets, and everyone in IIIiers is there as stall-
holder or purchaser. When a visitor passes, however unobtrusive
his appearance, all pause to stare in amazed hostility, with some-
thing of the emotion felt by Aunt Leonie when she saw from her
window 'a dog she didn't know'. But later in the day, when he
dares to show his face again, all is well and their glances are
friendly; he has been identified as a 'proustien anglais' who is
staying at the Hotel de l'Image, and he is no longer a strange dog.
The church of Saint-Jacques is half surrounded by the wide
market-place, half built-in by ancient houses; and even the
market-place side shows the traces, like shadows in time, of shops
built by mediaeval squatters and pulled down since Proust's days.
To the English visitor, accustomed to the little English parish-
church, Saint-Jacques seems enormous; the roof of the nave,
with the ugly modem clock whose Rhinegold chime is neverthe-
less so antique and beautiful, has an endless steep slope which
recalls the churches of Holland. The spire rises on a square,
buttressed tower with a turret at the side; it is in two tiers,
resembling a large squat extinguisher on top of which has been
placed a tall thin extinguisher; and above is a long mast with a
weather-cock at the summit. No wonder that the spire comes into
view at every side-street, at every road leading out of IIIiers, and
soars at an immense height, always with three or four jackdaws
circling or alighting, over rooftops one would have thought steep
enough to hide it. The asymmetry and oddity of the spire gives
it the humble yet majestic air which made Aunt Amiot say: "Ifit
played the piano, I'm sure it would play with real feeling"; and
each new angle from which it is seen, 'like a solid surprised at an
unknown moment of its revolution', seems intended by the un-
known architect to be the best viewpoint of all.
The church of Saint-Jacques at IIIiers is less ancient than Saint-
Hilaire at Combray: it was built in the late eleventh century,
restored in the fifteenth century by Florent d'IIIiers, who left only
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