Médecine. I do not much admire it; the front screen is overloaded by the
high story resting on the columns; and within the court the range of
smaller columns, running behind those of the portico, has a disagreeable
effect. There is a complete entablature to the smaller order, but only
the cornice of the portico is continued round the building, without
architrave or frieze: as the entablature is always supposed to indicate
the principal construction of the roof, this arrangement is
preposterous. Sometimes, where the upper story is a mere attic, it may
be supposed to be in fact in the roof, and the entablature will of
course be below it. Palladio, and many Italian architects, consider the
entablature as indicating floors, as well as the roof, but no theory
will admit its introduction in the former case and its omission in the
latter.
The Fountain in front is one of the erections of Napoleon, and certainly
does no honour to his taste, or that of his architect: a semicircular
recess for a shower of rain, with some columns in front, is its best
appearance; but usually we see no indication of water, except the green
vegetation it produces; and the adjuncts are as poor as the principal
object.
The Palais Royal I have already mentioned. The Hotel de Ville has a
certain richness of appearance, although it is not in a style of
architecture capable of great merit, and even not one of the best
examples of the sort. It is, however, as good as our Guildhall.
The Halle aux Blés is justly cited as one of the finest productions of
modern art; not for its beauty, to which it has no claim, but for the
simple and scientific construction of its noble iron roof; each rib is
composed of two bars to form its depth, and a third is added towards the
springing. These bars are united by cross bars, radiating from the
centre of the circle, and this constitutes the whole of the supporting
work; a net of square iron framing rests upon these ribs, and supports
the plates of the roof; the diameter of this dome is 142 feet.
Napoleon ordered the erection of several _Abattoirs_, (_i. e._ places
for slaughtering cattle, and for the wholesale meat market,) in the
outskirts of the city, but within the _barrières_; these are not yet
finished; they are very spacious and well disposed, but the one which I
visited seemed to be placed too high to admit of a plentiful supply of
water. I did not perceive any thing particularly good in the
construction, but in the covering there were some experiments which
deserve notice. They have used in some parts the Italian semicylindrical
tiles, and seem very well satisfied with them, as forming a very light
and perfectly water-tight roofing. It is not, however, quite correct to
call them semicylindrical, as they are, in fact, the halves of frustra
of hollow cones, the lower series being laid with the concave side
upwards, and the upper with the concave side downwards, and covering the
joints of the lower series. We seem in our pantiles to have aimed at
uniting two of these tiles into a serpentine shape, and employing only
one series. The chief object of this change arises from the want of a
convenient method of fixing the upper tiles. In the _Abattoirs_ these
are not fixed, except by the cement, and no inconvenience has resulted
in the two years which have elapsed since they were completed. In some
cases the rafters are cut into triangular prisms, with the flat side
downwards, and the lower tile lies very snugly in the intervals; but for
this arrangement, either the tiles must be very large, or the rafters
placed very close together. In others the lower tiles were made in the
shape of trays, but it was found that the water did not run off as well
from the flat surface as from the hollow, and consequently, that a
sharper pitch was needful.
Paris is adorned with a number of fountains, many of which, it is true,
are poor and paltry, but others are very handsome, and contribute much
to the ornament of the city. Among these the ‘Fontaine des Innocens’ is
the most admired, and is certainly one of the most beautiful little
things in Paris. It was originally placed at the angle of a street; now
it is quite insulated, and I conceive, looks better in its new situation
than it could have done in the old one. A square building, perforated
each way by an arch standing on a basement, and crowned with a dome,
forms the whole composition, and though not without faults, it is truly
a valuable production; the architect was Lescot, the author of part of
the Louvre.
The Fontaine de Grenelle is also a handsome structure, although, if
considered as a fountain, the supply of water bears no sort of
proportion to the size of the edifice, and the centre is as usual, too
small: both these fountains are ornamented with sculpture, which is both
well disposed, and well executed for architectural effect.
The Chateau d’Eau, on the Boulevards, does more honour to the reign of
Napoleon than the Fountain of the Ecole de Médecine. If spouting lions
are not very natural, they have, at least, the plea of long use, and
have been introduced into some very fine productions. They perhaps give
a pleasing variety of outline, which otherwise, for a small edifice
intended to be ornamental, would be too plain and unbroken. Admitting
this liberty, the chateau has no affectation, but appears to be simply
what it is. It may be said that this is rather the absence of a fault
than a beauty; yet the absence of a fault so extremely common, and so
difficult to avoid in buildings of this sort, may at least be esteemed a
merit, if not a beauty; and the public voice acknowledges this maxim,
for with this claim, and a good general outline, the building is sure to
be admired.
There are two Roman antiquities at Paris. One called the Palais des
Thermes, consists of one large room, now occupied by a cooper, somewhat
in the form of a T, 62 feet long, 60 wide, and about 42 high. It is
built of small stones and bricks, and vaulted with a groined arch;
underneath, there are, according to Le Grand, three small vaults of
unknown length; above is a garden, the earth of which lies immediately
on the vault.[16] The other is the aqueduct of Arcueil. We descend into
a vaulted passage which leads to Arcueil, with a square channel for the
water at the bottom; this is conducted into a stone trough considerably
inclined and rounded at the end, the water running over the edges. I do
not imagine this trough to be Roman, but the disposition shows off the
brilliancy of the water beautifully. Clear as it is however, we are
shown a crust of enormous thickness which had collected in the pipes,
and which proves it to hold in solution a considerable quantity of
calcareous matter.
LETTER VII.
PARIS.
_June, 1816._
I CALLED one day on M. Visconti by appointment, in order to be conducted
to see some drawings of the Temple of Fortune at Palestrina, by M.
Huyot, who has gained great credit by this exertion of his talents. A
French student in architecture usually fixes himself in the office, or
as they call it _atelier_, (workshop) of some architect of reputation.
Here he pays a louis per month for his seat, for the use of drawings to
copy, and for the occasional advice of his master; and as soon as he has
gained some elementary knowledge, he goes to the academy with a ticket,
stating his name, age, country, his master’s name, &c. At the academy,
one day in every month is dedicated to a trial of skill and talent
(_concours_). I find myself sadly deficient in English terms for the
practices, and you must therefore excuse me if I introduce French ones.
Precisely at eight o’clock in the morning, the professor enters and
gives a _programme_, _i. e._ a statement of the nature of the building
for which a design is demanded, and of the accommodation it requires;
and each pupil makes a plan, elevation, and section, according to his
idea of the subject. This of course is a mere sketch, but it is done to
a scale. No external communication is allowed, but refreshments are sold
by the porter. The sketches thus made are shewn to the professor, and
then taken away to be restudied and drawn out fair against the next day
of contest. In this second attempt, the leading idea of the sketch is to
be strictly maintained, but such farther developments and improvements,
as a more leisurely study may suggest, are not only allowed but
expected. No pupil is required to make these sketches, but as his being
permitted to be a candidate for the _grand prix_, and for the pension
for travelling in Italy, depends on the number of monthly prizes he may
obtain, there is sufficient stimulus for the effort.
The students are permitted to avail themselves of the advice of their
master, and of their companions, and even of their assistance in the
drawings. The original sketches, with the improved drawings, are then
taken back to the academy, and the professor assigns the premium, which
is merely a ticket, without any intrinsic value.
The contest for the _grand prix_ occurs once a year, but no student is
admitted as a candidate, unless he have gained a certain number of the
monthly prizes. The method is nearly the same as in the monthly
contests, but of course, the talents called into action are much greater
than in the more frequent trials, and the effort necessary is likewise
much greater. So also is the reward; for besides the prize, and the
honour accompanying it, the successful candidate is sent to Rome to
enter into a new career of knowledge and reputation. When in Italy, each
student is expected to send home every year four drawings of some
monument, chosen by himself. In the latter years of their residence they
usually do much more; and some late very successful efforts have raised
the standard so high, that the task which a man, who wishes to
distinguish himself, has to execute in Italy, is now a very serious one.
The best productions thus obtained are the Pantheon, by Achille le
Clerc, and the Temple of Fortune, at Palestrina, by M. Huyot. The first,
having probably observed several circumstances not previously noticed,
was encouraged to undertake a building so well known, but in order to
justify himself in this selection, he thought it necessary to enter into
a minuteness and accuracy of detail, of which there had been no previous
example. The result has amply justified his choice; and his researches,
and the clear and perfect manner in which he has explained his views,
have gained him a great deal of credit. He seems to have proved
completely, that the portico was not added at a later time to a building
which had been complete without it; but I will not enter into a
particular account of this subject till I have seen the edifice itself.
M. Huyot[17] has made a very elaborate performance on the Temple of
Fortune, and if we may sometimes be inclined to doubt whether his
authorities are sufficient for the magnificent restoration which he has
made, and to reject the high antiquity which he assigns to some parts of
it, yet we cannot deny him the praise of a diligent and accurate
investigation of the existing remains, and of great sagacity and
ingenuity in combining them into one regular and symmetrical design. In
fact, in many of the recent productions of the French students, there is
a patient accuracy of examination, and a perfection of drawing, which I
have never met with in the architectural students of our own country,
and which I was not prepared for here.
I use, you see, the term _student_, as applied to the authors of these
works, and correctly, for such they are; but candidates for the _grand
prix_ are admitted till thirty years of age, and the privilege is
sometimes claimed even till the last moment. They are not therefore
_boys_, but men of formed habits of research, and improved judgment. Yet
these drawings, executed with so much care and skill, are put out of the
way in the academy as if they were so much lumber: you will hear them
spoken of indeed as ‘_choses extrémement precieuses_,’ and with all
other expressions of praise you can imagine; but meanwhile, they are
neglected or ill-treated, and the poor artist himself is sometimes not
much better off.
M. Gallois took me one morning to breakfast with M. Brogniart, who
superintends the royal manufactory of porcelain at Sèvres, and to see
the products. In point of execution, the finest piece I saw was a plate
made at Vienna, ornamented with flowers, performed in the most beautiful
manner; it might almost be taken for a painting by Van Huysum; but we
only saw it in a glass case, and it may have faults which I did not
notice. Some of the vases made at Sèvres are well shaped, but this is
not always the case; they are often very large; some are made to imitate
tortoiseshell, some lapis lazuli, some malachite; I should prefer them
as porcelain. After all, the most pleasing combination of colours on the
surface of a plate, is not exactly that of a beautiful drawing, and
perhaps the Chinese have shown more taste and judgment, in contenting
themselves with the former, than the Europeans, who have been ambitious
of the latter. In the general disposition of the rooms, there is more
glitter than I like, but this seems almost unavoidable from the nature
of the material, and of the objects of the art; and it must be
acknowledged, that many of the individual productions are very chaste
and beautiful. They use a green ground made from chrome, which is an
excellent colour, and sets off the gilding exceedingly well; some of the
cups and vases, which are merely gilt on this colour, are among the
finest things in the manufactory. They possess also an admirable dead
red, which harmonizes perfectly with the gold; but apparently, this has
not brilliancy enough to please the general eye, for they use but little
of it. I must not forget the cameos, which are some of the happiest
efforts, and in which the beautiful semi-transparency of the agate is
well imitated. A table ornamented with portraits of illustrious men, and
with some event in the life of each, is perhaps, the greatest work they
have executed; but although the parts are beautiful, the whole is not
so; and with great perversity of judgment, or of taste, the stand is
made of porcelain as well as the top, thus exposing ten-fold to
accident, what was already too fragile.
On another morning I breakfasted with M. Prudhom’, and he took me to M.
Sommariva’s gallery, which contains modern as well as ancient paintings.
Several are by M. Prudhom’, one of which, Zephyr crossing a brook, is a
most charming painting, and is the happiest specimen I have seen of this
accomplished artist. It seems exactly the subject for him. Zephyr is
represented as a beautiful boy; his wings are visible, but not
obtrusive; he has just put one foot upon the wet sand, and with a half
laugh, is shrinking back from the cold. Besides the paintings, M.
Sommariva possesses two works by Canova. A Terpsichore, and a most
exquisite Magdalen, who occupies a room to herself, and has every
possible advantage of light, and of the colour of the ground; and
deserves every advantage which can be given.
After so many disquisitions on architecture, you may forgive now and
then a desultory letter; I shall therefore transport you for a few
minutes to the theatres, of which, hitherto I have said nothing.
I went one night to the Theatre des Vaudevilles. The style of decoration
is paltry, being for the most part conspicuously paper; and as paper,
not well executed, nor at all in good taste, though it must be
acknowledged, it is difficult to say what is good taste in the
decoration of a theatre. The place corresponding to the English pit is
divided into two parts, of which the one nearest the stage is called the
orchestra, and the remainder the parterre; the price of admission to the
former being the same as to the boxes. This arrangement seems to me
reasonable, as some of the seats in the orchestra are certainly the best
in the house for seeing and hearing the actors. The orchestra is again
divided, but I know not why, by a rail across the middle. There are four
complete ranges of boxes, and no gallery.
The drop scene was a view of the Tuilleries from the Seine, as it
appeared about a century ago; a bad painting of a bad subject. Among
other pieces, for we had three in the same evening, there was a
burlesque of Hamlet, in which an English actor was represented, who came
to Paris to teach the French the _veritable Hamlet Anglois_, while his
servant more successfully attempts to introduce the true English
blacking. At the first appearance of the former to offer his services,
the gestures, manners, and bad pronunciation have something of what one
might conceive of an English coxcomb actor; in the rest of the piece he
is a good automaton, but I could trace no resemblance to any thing
English.
The Theatre Français is you know the famous theatre, which every body
sees, admires, and criticises; but I shall tell you nothing about the
acting, my business, at present, is with the architecture, and that is
of too solid, and too _real_ a style, to suit well in a theatre: the
stories of boxes are fitted in between columns of Greek architecture,
and the disposition is, and looks to be, inconvenient.
On returning from Rheims I observed, at the entrance to Paris, two inns,
one of which has for its sign _Providence_, indicated by the figure of
an old man, intended to represent the Almighty. The other is the _Grace
of God_, with a painting of a man upon his knees. A Frenchman does not
see any thing profane in this. On the contrary, I believe, they are
intended as inducements to religious people to enter, since it is again
the fashion to be religious. However, though such a fashion certainly
exists, I do not think it extends very far, even taking religion in the
sense of ceremonial observances, the ancient use of the word. They have
other signs here you would not expect; just by me is an auberge ‘Au Duc
de Wellington,’ and a ‘Grand Hotel Nelson.’ What would you think of the
‘Napoleon’s Head,’ or the ‘Marshal Soult,’ in London?
While they are fresh in my mind, I will give you some idea of the crowds
and processions I have been looking at yesterday and to-day. The first
were those of what is called the _Fête Dieu_, and according to Catholic
notions, or at least according to Parisian language, the Almighty
himself is carried in procession. The houses were adorned with tapestry;
that is, with curtains, carpets, and all sorts of old things the
inhabitants happen to have by them, hung out of the windows. In some
parts, however, sheets were the usual hangings, ornamented very prettily
with sprigs and festoons of flowers. The windows were filled with
spectators, who scattered handfuls of rose leaves on the crowd below.
The leader of the procession was a child about four years old, drest in
sheepskins, and carrying a cross, intended to represent St. John the
Baptist. He was accompanied by another, of about the same age, typical
of our Saviour; a lamb followed the latter, and consequently both the
children and the lamb required attendants; the rest of the procession
consisted of priests, one of whom carried the host, included in the
ciborium; and of boys attached to the church, in white surplices. In one
procession, for there were several, I believe one in each parish, this
was followed by a number of females dressed in white, covered with white
veils, and holding in the right hand bunches of white roses; a mixed
crowd followed without order, and apparently, for the most part, without
much reverence for what was going forward, attracted by curiosity rather
than by religion. The procession stopped from time to time, when a
considerable number of persons nearest to the host knelt down; the
attendants swung the incense pots, and the white robed boys tossed up
rose leaves in such quantities, as to perfume the air. The procession
which I followed stopped at a _reposoir_ in the ‘Marché des Jacobins.’
This was a canopy, tastefully ornamented with flowers, over an altar;
here mass was said, and a pigeon was permitted to flutter about, which
after the service was liberated entirely. After this the people, or
rather the ladies, crowded about the priest with leaves or bouquets of
flowers, which they applied to the cross. Another reposoir, near St.
Germain des Prés, was lined with crimson, and sparkled with a profusion
of wax candles. I afterwards went into the church of St. Sulpice, which
was hung with tapestry; and stayed there about half an hour. Even here,
though the architecture is very much inferior to that of a Gothic
cathedral in expression, yet united with the music, and with the people
assembled for the purpose of worshipping, it assisted to produce a
pleasing solemnity. During the time I stayed, the church remained about
equally full, although all the doors were crowded with people entering
or retiring. The Parisians at present seem to be hung on a pivot,
vibrating between atheism and superstition, without knowing themselves
to which party they belong. To reason on religious subjects they
consider as adopting the former course; their education, whether under
the old priesthood, or among the whirlpools of the revolution, alike
unfits them for a fair and candid examination of the principles of their
belief. They are afraid to be atheists, lest they should ultimately
suffer punishment. They are afraid to believe, lest it should expose
them to ridicule, but they have no idea of selecting what to believe
among the doctrines of the church, and rejecting what is false. They
take or reject the gold and the dross altogether, because, having at
present no apparatus by which they can separate them, they do not think
of the possibility of such an operation; and besides, they would be
rejected by both parties; heresy is worse here than total disbelief.
At St. Sulpice, I finished my course; a heavy rain came on which lasted
about four hours, but cleared up in time to afford to the king and
princess, who is to be duchess of Berri, an opportunity of entering
Paris in fine weather. The scene was very gay and lively, but more from
the spectators, than from any object about which they were assembled.
The next day was the wedding of the Duke de Berri. I saw part of the
procession, but had not patience to confine myself to Nôtre Dame for the
time necessary to see it there. There were shouts of _vive le roi!_ but
they were very faint and feeble, compared with the acclamations of an
English mob. The national guards seemed to be the principal actors, and
it was the same the day before. On Sunday, passing through the gardens
of the Tuilleries, I mounted on the terrace next the river, and here was
the gayest and finest sight. The gardens were full of people, drest in
various colours. The ladies sheltering themselves from the rays of the
sun, which just then shone fully out, by parasols of all tints. Near the
palace the gay crowd was motionless; farther off some persons walking
about, were mixed with those sitting and standing; further still were
more walkers, and the crowd gradually became thinner, till it was lost
in the obscurity of the shady part of the garden, and this shade served
as a foil, which enhanced prodigiously the brilliancy of the scene. The
beds of flowers were in perfect harmony with the other objects, and the
divisions they occasioned among the mass of people, gave opportunity for
the colours of the ladies’ dresses to display themselves. Fountains also
added both to the variety and brilliancy of the effect, and the whole
scene was gay and splendid as the imagination of an eastern poet. Thence
I walked into the Elysian fields, and here the picture was very
different; all Paris seemed pouring into them. Stands were erected in
various parts, whence issued little fountains of wine, and bread and
sausages were distributed among the people. Groups of tumblers, actors,
grimace-makers, musicians, and rope-dancers, were scattered about; and
decently dressed men and women were riding on see-saws and
merry-go-rounds. The crowd got possession of one of the former, and
endeavoured by severe jerks to displace those who ventured to mount.
Some were presently dislodged, others held more firmly; none could keep
their places long, but new candidates for the honours of the sitting
were never wanting; while their hats flying off, and the wry faces they
made as they found themselves unable to sustain the repeated shocks,
excited the merriment of the spectators.