Book: Seeing Europe with Famous Authors, Volume 3

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I continued my walk through the numerous winding paths, as chance or
curiosity directed me. Now I was lost in a little green hollow, overhung
with thick-leaved shrubbery, and then came out upon an elevation, from
which, through an opening in the trees, the eye caught glimpses of the
city, and the little esplanade, at the foot of the hill, where the poor
lie buried. There poverty hires its grave, and takes but a short lease of
the narrow house. At the end of a few months, or at most of a few years,
the tenant is dislodged to give place to another, and he in turn to a
third. "Who," says Sir Thomas Browne, "knows the fate of his bones, or how
often he is to be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither
they are to be scattered?"

Yet, even in that neglected corner, the hand of affection had been busy in
decorating the hired house. Most of the graves were surrounded with a
slight wooden paling, to secure them from the passing footstep; there was
hardly one so deserted as not to be marked with its little wooden cross,
and decorated with a garland of flowers; and here and there I could
perceive a solitary mourner, clothed in black, stooping to plant a shrub
on the grave, or sitting in motionless sorrow beside it....

After rambling leisurely about for some time, reading the iscriptions on
the various monuments which attracted my curiosity, and giving way to the
different reflections they suggested, I sat down to rest myself on a
sunken tombstone. A winding gravel-walk, overshaded by an avenue of trees,
and lined on both sides with richly sculptured monuments, had gradually
conducted me to the summit of the hill, upon whose slope the cemetery
stands. Beneath me in the distance, and dim-discovered through the misty
and smoky atmosphere of evening, rose the countless roofs and spires of
the city. Beyond, throwing his level rays athwart the dusky landscape,
sank the broad red sun. The distant murmur of the city rose upon my ear;
and the toll of the evening bell came up, mingled with the rattle of the
paved street and the confused sounds of labor. What an hour for
meditation! What a contrast between the metropolis of the living and the
metropolis of the dead!....

Before I left the graveyard the shades of evening had fallen, and the
objects around me grown dim and indistinct. As I passed the gateway, I
turned to take a parting look. I could distinguish only the chapel on the
summit of the hill, and here and there a lofty obelisk of snow-white
marble, rising from the black and heavy mass of foliage around, and
pointing upward to the gleam of the departed sun, that still lingered in
the sky, and mingled with the soft starlight of a summer evening.




The Musée de Cluny

By Grant Allen


[Footnote: From "Paris."]



The primitive nucleus of the suburb on the South Side consists of the
Roman fortress palace, the "tête du pont" of the Left Bank, now known as
the Thermes, owing to the fact that its principal existing remains include
only the ruins of the bath or therma. This colossal building, probably
erected by Constantius Chlorus, the father of Constantine, covered an
enormous area south of the river. After the Frankish conquest, it still
remained the residence of the Merwing and Karling kings on the rare
occasions when they visited Paris; and it does not seem to have fallen
into utter decay till a comparatively late date in the Middle Ages.

With the Norman irruptions, however, and the rise of the real French
monarchs under Eudes and the Capets, the new sovereigns found it safest to
transfer their seat to the Palace on the Island (now the Palais de
Justice), and the Roman fortress was gradually dismantled. In 1340 the
gigantic ruins came into the hands of the powerful Benedictine Abbey of
Cluny, near Mâcon, in Burgundy; and about 1480, the abbots began to erect
on the spot a town mansion for themselves, which still bears the name of
the Hôtel de Cluny. The letter K, the mark of Charles VIII. (1483-1498),
occurs on many parts of the existing building, and fixes its epoch. The
house was mostly built by Jaques d'Amboise, abbot, in 1490. The style is
late Gothic, with Renaissance features.

The abbots, however, seldom visited Paris, and they frequently placed
their town house accordingly at the disposition of the kings of France.
Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII., and widow of Louis XII., occupied
it thus in 1515, soon after its completion. It was usual for the queens of
France to wear white as mourning; hence her apartment is still known as
the "Chambre de la reine blanche."

At the Revolution, when the property of the monasteries was confiscated,
the Hôtel de Cluny was sold, and passed at last, in 1833, into the hands
of M. du Sommerard, a zealous antiquary, who began the priceless
collection of works of art which it contains. He died in 1842, and the
Government then bought the house and museum, and united it with the Roman
ruin at its back under the title of Musée des Thermes et de l'Hôtel de
Cluny. Since that time many further objects have been added to the
collection.

At Cluny the actual building forms one of the most interesting parts of
the sight, and is in itself a museum. It is a charming specimen of a late
medieval French mansion; and the works of art it contains are of the
highest artistic value.... At least two whole days should be devoted to
Cluny--one to the lower and one to the upper floor. Much more, if
possible.




The Place de la Bastille

By Augustus J. C. Hare


[Footnote: From "Walks in Paris." By arrangement with the publisher, David
McKay. Copyright, 1880.]



The south end of the Rue des Tournelles falls into the Place de la
Bastille, containing Le Colonne de Juillet, surmounted by a statue of
Liberty, and erected 1831-1840. This marks the site of the famous castle-
prison of the Bastille, which for four centuries and a half terrified
Paris, and which has left a name to the quarter it frowned upon. Hugues
Ambriot, Mayor of Paris, built it under Charles V. to defend the suburb
which contained the royal palace of St. Paul. Unpopular from the excess of
his devotion to his royal master, Aubriot was the first prisoner in his
own prison.

Perhaps the most celebrated of the long list of after captives were the
Connétable de St. Pol and Jacques d'Armagnac, Due de Nemours, taken thence
for execution to the Place de Grève under Louis XI., Charles de Gontaut,
Due de Biron, executed within the walls of the fortress under Henri IV.,
and the "Man with the Iron Mask," brought hither mysteriously, September
18, 1698, and who died in the Bastille, November 19, 1703.

A thousand engravings show us the Bastille as it was--as a "fort-bastide"
--built on the line of the city walls just to the south of the Porte St.
Antoine, surrounded by its own moat. It consisted of eight round towers,
each bearing a characteristic name, connected by massive walls, ten feet
thick, pierced with narrow slits by which the cells were lighted. In the
early times it had entrances on three sides, but after 1580 only one, with
a drawbridge over the moat on the side toward the river, which led to
outer courts and a second drawbridge, and wound by a defended passage to
an outer entrance opposite the Rue des Tournelles.

Close beside the Bastille, to the north, rose the Porte St. Antoine,
approached over the city fosse by its own bridge, at the outer end of
which was a triumphal arch built on the return of Henri II. from Poland in
1573. Both gate and arch were restored for the triumphal entry of Louis
XIV. in 1667; but the gate (before which Etienne Marcel was killed, July,
1358), was pulled down in 1674.

The Bastille was taken by the people, July 14, 1789, and the National
Assembly decreed its demolition.... The massive circular pedestal upon
which the Colonne de Juillet now rests was intended by Napoleon I. to
support a gigantic fountain in the form of an elephant, instead of the
column which, after the destruction of the Bastille, the "tiers état" of
Paris had asked to erect "à Louis XVI., restaurateur de la liberté
publique." It is characteristic of the Parisians that on the very same
spot the throne of Louis Philippe was publicly burned, February 24, 1848.
The model for the intended elephant existed here till the middle of the
reign of Louis Philippe, and is depicted by Victor Hugo as the lodging of
"Le petit Gavroche."




The Panthéon and St. Etienne-Du-Mont

By Grant Allen


[Footnote: From "Paris."]



The medieval church of Ste. Geneviève, having fallen into decay in the
middle of the eighteenth century, Louis XV. determined to replace it by a
sumptuous domed edifice in the style of the period. This building,
designed by Soufflot, was not completed till the Revolution, when it was
immediately secularized as the Panthéon, under circumstances to be
mentioned later. The remains of Ste. Geneviève, which had lain temporarily
meanwhile in a sumptuous chapel of St. Étienne-du-Mont (the subsidiary
church of the monastery) were taken out by the Revolutionists; the
medieval shrine, or reliquary (which replaced St. Éloy's), was ruthlessly
broken up; and the body of the patroness and preserver of Paris was
publicly burned in the Place de Grève.

This, however, strange to say, was not quite the end of Ste. Geneviève. A
few of her relics were said to have been preserved: some bones, together
with a lock of the holy shepherdess's hair, were afterward recovered, and
replaced in the sarcophagus they had once occupied. Such at least is the
official story; and these relics, now once more enclosed in a costly
shrine, still attract thousands of votaries to the chapel of the saint in
St. Étienne-du-Mont.

The Panthéon, standing in front of the original church, is now a secular
burial-place for the great men of France. The remains of Ste. Geneviève
still repose at St. Étienne. Thus it is impossible to dissociate the two
buildings, which should be visited together; and thus too it happens that
the patroness of Paris has now no church in her own city. Local saints are
always the most important; this hill and Montmartre are still the holiest
places in Paris.

Proceed, as far as the garden of the Thermes, as on the excursion to
Cluny. Then continue straight up the Boulevard St. Michel. The large
edifice visible on the right of the Rue des Écoles to your left, is the
new building of the Sorbonne, or University. Further up, at the Place du
Sorbonne, the domed church of the same name stands before you. It is the
University church, and is noticeable as the earliest true dome erected in
Paris. The next corner shows one, right, the Luxembourg garden, and left,
the Rue Soufflot, leading up to the Panthéon.

The colossal domed temple which replaces the ancient church of Ste.
Geneviève was begun by Soufflot, under Louis XV., in imitation of St.
Peter's, at Rome. Like all architects of his time, Soufflot sought merely
to produce an effect of pagan or "classical" grandeur, peculiarly out of
place in the shrine of the shepherdess of Nanterre. Secularized almost
immediately on its completion, during the Revolution, the building was
destined as the national monument to the great men of France, and the
inscription, "Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie Reconnaissante," which it still
bears, was then first placed under the sculptures of the pediment.

Restored to worship by the Restoration, it was again secularized under the
Third Republic in order to admit the burial of Victor Hugo. The building
itself, a vast bare barn of the pseudo-classical type, very cold and
formal, is worthy of notice merely on account of its immense size and its
historic position; but it may be visited to this day with pleasure, not
only for some noble modern paintings, but also for the sake of the
reminiscences of Ste. Geneviève which it still contains. The tympanum has
a group by David d'Angers, representing France distributing wreaths to
soldiers, politicians, men of letters, men of science, and artists.

The interior is in the shape of a Greek cross (with equal arms). Follow
round the walls, beginning from the right. In the right aisle are
paintings (modern) looking like frescoes, and representing the preaching
of St. Denis, by Galand; and the history of Ste. Geneviève--her childhood,
recognition by St. Germain l'Auxerrois, miracles, etc., delicate and
elusive works, by Puvis de Chavannes. The paintings of the South Transept
represent episodes in the early history of France. Chronologically
speaking, they begin from the east central corner. Choir, Death of Ste.
Geneviève, and Miracles before her Shrine, by Laurens. Apse of the
tribune, fine modern (archaic) mosaic, by Hébert, representing Christ with
the Guardian Angel of France, the Madonna, Jean d'Arc, and Ste. Geneviève.
Stand under the dome to observe the proportions of the huge, bare,
unimpressive building. Left, or Northern Transept, east side, the history
of Jeanne d'Arc; she hears the voices; leads the assault at Orleans;
assists at the coronation of Charles VII. at Rheims; and is burned at
Rouen. West side, St. Louis as a child instructed by Blanche of Castille;
administering justice in the Palace; and a captive among the Saracens.
North aisle, history of Ste. Geneviève and St. Denis. The building is thus
at once the apotheosis of patriotism, and the lasting memorial of the part
borne by Christianity in French, and especially Parisian, history.

As you descend the steps of the Panthéon, the building that faces you to
the left is the Mairie of the 5th Arrondissement; that to the right, the
École de Droit. Turn to the right along the north side of the Panthéon.
The long, low building which faces you is the Bibliotheque Ste. Geneviève.
Nothing now remains of the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève except the tall early
Gothic tower seen to the right near the end of the Panthéon, and rising
above the modern buildings of the Lycée Henri IV. The singularly
picturesque and strangely-mingled church across the little square is St.
Étienne-du-Mont, which we now proceed to visit.

Stand in the left-hand corner of the Place to examine the facade. The
church was begun (1517) as late Gothic; but before it was finished, the
Renaissance style had come into fashion, and the architects accordingly
jumbled the two in the most charming manner. The incongruity here only
adds to the beauty. The quaintly original Renaissance portal bears a
dedication to St. Stephen the Protomartyr, beneath which is a relief of
his martyrdom, with a Latin inscription, "Stone destroyed the temple of
the Lord," i.e., Stephen, "Stone rebuilds it." Right and left of the
portal are statues of Sts. Stephen and Geneviève, whose monograms also
appear on the doors. In the pediment is the usual representation of the
Resurrection and Last Judgment. Above it, the rose window, on either side
of which, in accordance with Italian rather than with French custom
(showing Italian Renaissance influence) are the Angel of the Annunciation
and the Madonna receiving his message. In the third story, a gable-end.
Singular tower to the left, with an additional round turret, a relic of
the earlier Gothic building. The whole façade (17th century) represents
rather late Renaissance than transitional architecture.

The interior is the most singular, and in some ways the most picturesque,
in Paris--a Gothic church, tricked out in Renaissance finery. The nave is
flanked by aisles, which are divided from it by round pillars, capped by a
singular balustrade or gallery with low, flat arches, simulating a
triforium. The upper arches are round, and the decorations Renaissance;
but the vaulting, both of nave and aisles, with its pendant keystones,
recalls the Gothic style, as do also most of the windows. Stand near the
entrance, in the center of the nave, and look up the church.

The most striking feature is the beautiful Renaissance jubé or rood-loft
(the only one now left in Paris) which divides the Choir from the body of
the building. This rood-loft still bears a crucifix, for the reception of
which it was originally intended. On the arch below are two charmingly
sculptured Renaissance angels. The rood-loft is flanked by two spiral
staircases, which are wholly unique architectural features. Notice also
the exquisite pendentive of the roof at the point of intersection of the
nave and short false transepts.

Now walk up the right aisle. The first chapel is the Baptistery,
containing the font and a modern statue of the boy Baptist. Third chapel,
St. Antony of Padua. The fourth chapel contains a curious Holy Sepulcher,
with quaint life-size terra-cotta figures of the 16th century. Fifth
chapel, a gilt châsse. Notice the transepts, reduced to short arms,
scarcely, if at all, projecting beyond the chapels. From this point
examine the exquisite Renaissance tracery of the rood-screen and
staircases. Then pass under the fine Renaissance door, with lovely
decorative work, into the ambulatory. The Choir is in large part Gothic,
with late flamboyant tracery. The apparent triforium is continued round
the ambulatory.

The splendid gilded shrine in the second choir-chapel contains the remains
of Ste. Geneviève, or what is left of them. Candles burn perpetually
around it. Hundreds of votaries here pay their devotions daily to the
Patroness of Paris. The shrine, containing what is alleged to be the
original sarcophagus of the Saint (more probably of the 13th century)
stands under a richly-gilt Gothic tabernacle, adorned with figures legibly
named on their pedestals. The stained-glass window behind it has a
representation of a processional function with the body of the Saint,
showing this church, together with a view of the original church of Ste.
Geneviève, the remaining tower, and adjacent houses, historically most
interesting. The window beyond the shrine also contains the history of
Ste. Geneviève--her childhood, first communion, miracles, distribution of
bread during the siege of Paris, conversion of Clovis, death, etc.

Indeed the long sojourn of the body of Ste. Geneviève in this church has
almost overshadowed its dedication to St. Stephen, several memorials of
whom may, however, be recognized by the attentive visitor--among them, a
picture of his martyrdom (by Abel de Pujol) near the entrance to the
choir. The Protomartyr also stands, with his deacon's robe and palm, in a
niche near the door of the sacristy, where left and right are frescoes of
his Disputation with the Doctors, and his Martyrdom. The chapel
immediately behind the high altar is, as usual, the Lady Chapel. The next
contains a good modern window of the Marriage of the Virgin.

Examine in detail all the windows; one of the mystic wine-press is very
interesting. Votive offerings of the city of Paris to Ste. Geneviève also
exist in the ambulatory. Curious frescoes of the martyrdom of the 10,000
Christians on Mount Ararat on the north side. The best view of the choir
is obtained from the north side of the ambulatory, opposite the shrine of
Ste. Geneviève. In the north aisle notice St. Louis with the Crown of
Thorns. Stand again in the center of the nave, near the entrance, and
observe the curious inclination of the choir and high altar to one side--
here particularly noticeable, and said in every case to represent the
droop of the Redeemer's head on the cross.

As you emerge from the door, observe the cold and bare side of the
Panthéon, contrasted with the internal richness of St. Êtienne. Curious
view of the late Gothic portion of the church from the little Place on the
north side. Return by the Rue Cujas and Rue St. Jacques, passing the Lycée
Ste. Barbe, Lycée Louis-le-Grand, University, and other scholastic
buildings, which give a good idea of the character of the quarter.




St. Roch

By Augustus J. C. Hare

[Footnote: From "Walks in Paris." By arrangement with the publisher, David
McKay. Copyright, 1880.]



Englishmen are often specially imprest with Paris as a city of contrasts,
because one side of the principal line of hotels frequented by our
countrymen looks down upon the broad, luxurious Rue de Rivoli, all modern
gaiety and radiance, while the other side of their courtyards open upon
the busy working Rue St. Honoré, lined by the tall, many-windowed houses
which have witnessed so many revolutions. They have all the
picturesqueness of innumerable balconies, high, slated roofs, with dormer
windows, window-boxes full of carnations and bright with crimson flowers
through the summer, and they overlook an ever-changing crowd, in great
part composed of men in blouses and women in white aprons and caps.

Ever since the fourteenth century the Rue St. Honoré has been one of the
busiest streets in Paris. It was the gate leading into this street which
was attacked by Jeanne d'Arc in 1429. It was the fact that the Cardinal de
Bourbon and the Due de Guise had been seen walking together at the Porte
St. Honoré that was said to have turned half the moustache of Henri of
Navarre suddenly white, from a presentiment of the crime which has become
known as the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Here, in 1648, the barricade was
raised which gave the signal for all the troubles of the Fronde. It was at
No 3--then called L'Auberge des Trois Pigeons--that Ravaillac was lodging
when he was waiting to murder Henry IV.; here the first gun was fired in
the Revolution of July, 1830, which overturned Charles X.; and here, in
the Revolution of 1848, a bloody combat took place between the insurgents
and the military. Throughout this street, as Marie Antoinette was first
entering Paris, the poissardes brought her bouquets, singing:

"La rose est la reine des fleurs.
Antoinette est la reine des coeurs."

("The rose is the queen of flowers, Antoinette is the queen of hearts")
and here, as she was being taken to the scaffold, they crowded round her
execution-cart and shouted:

"Madame Veto avait promis
De faire égorger tout Paris,
Mais son coup a manqué
Grâce à nos canonniers;
Dansons la carmagnole
Au bruit du son
Du canon!"

("Madame Veto had promised to have the throat cut of all Paris, but her
attempt failed, thanks to our gunners. Let us dance the carmagnole to the
music of the cannon's roar!")

* * * * *

Turning east toward Old Paris, we pass, on the right of the Rue St.
Honoré, the Church of St. Roch, of which Louis XIV. laid the foundation-
stone in 1633, replacing a chapel built on the site of the Hôtel Gaillon.
The church was only finished, from designs of Robert de Cotte, in 1740.
The flight of steps which leads to the entrance has many associations.

"Before St. Roch," says De Goncourt, "the tumbrel in which was Marie
Antoinette, stopt in the midst of howling and hooting. A thousand insults
were hurled from the steps of the church as it were with one voice,
saluting with filth their queen about to die. She, however, serene and
majestic, pardoned the insults by disregarding them." It was from these
steps, in front of which an open space then extended to the Tuileries
gardens, that Bonaparte ordered the first cannon to be fired upon the
royalists who rose against the National Convention, and thus prevented a
counter-revolution. Traces of this cannonade of 13 Vendémiaire are still
to be seen at the angle of the church and the Rue Neuve St. Roch.





II

THE ENVIRONS OF PARIS




Versailles

By William Makepeace Thackeray


[Footnote: From "The Paris Sketch Book."]



You pass from the railroad station through a long, lonely suburb, with
dusty rows of stunted trees on either side, and some few miserable
beggars, idle boys, and ragged old women under them. Behind the trees are
gaunt, moldy houses; palaces once, where (in the days of the unbought
grace of life) the cheap defense of nations gambled, ogled, swindled,
intrigued; whence high-born duchesses used to issue, in old times, to act
as chambermaids to lovely Du Barri; and mighty princes rolled away, in
gilt caroches, hot for the honor of lighting his Majesty to bed, or of
presenting his stockings when he rose, or of holding his napkin when he
dined.

Tailors, chandlers, tinmen, wretched hucksters, and greengrocers, are now
established in the mansions of the old peers; small children are yelling
at the doors, with mouths besmeared with bread and treacle; damp rags are
hanging out of every one of the windows, steaming in the sun; oyster-
shells, cabbage-stalks, broken crockery, old papers, lie basking in the
same cheerful light. A solitary water-cart goes jingling down the wide
pavement, and spirts a feeble refreshment over the dusty, thirty stones.

After pacing for some time through such dismal streets, we déboucher on
the grande place; and before us lies the palace dedicated to all the
glories of France. In the midst of the great lonely plain this famous
residence of King Louis looks low and mean--Honored pile! Time was when
tall musketeers and gilded body-guards allowed none to pass the gate.
Fifty years ago, ten thousand drunken women from Paris broke through the
charm; and now a tattered commissioner will conduct you through it for a
penny, and lead you up to the sacred entrance of the palace.

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