the church. Here we saw the coronation robes of Napoleon, and splendid
capes and embroideries, in gold and silver, given by Charles X. and
Louis Philippe; and here, too, is the vertebrae of the late Archbishop of
Paris, who was killed in the revolution of 1848. The bone has a silver
arrow tracing the course of the bullet, which lies beside it. This is in
time to be a saintly relic, but it seems to me a filthy sight, and in
wretched taste. But Popery knows well what to do with dead men's bones.
For a minute description of this church, I would refer you to three
volumes, called the "History of Paris," published by Galignani. On our
return we went to the Hotel de Ville, and had the company of M. O----n,
whose kindness did much for us on several occasions. The Hotel de
Ville stands in the Place de Greve, where so much blood has been shed in
other days. Here the martyrs of the Protestant faith have been put to
death. Here it was that Dubourg was strangled and burnt by order of
Francis II. Dubourg was a noble character. His last words were, "Father,
abandon me not; neither will I abandon thee."
This noble pile was begun in 1533, and only completed in 1841, and in
the modern improvements fifteen millions have been expended. The whole
now forms an immense quadrangle. The front is Corinthian, with pillars
and niches between the windows. A vast number of statues adorn the
front, and others are in preparation.
It was at the doorway in the centre that Lamartine, "the noblest Roman
of them all," so gloriously withstood the mob in February, 1848,
declaring that the red flag should not be the flag of France. I wish you
could see this palace, for such it is, though occupied by the city
authorities. London has nothing to approach it in splendor. The
staircases are gorgeous, and are so rich in sculpture that only a
sculptor could properly speak of them. We saw the room where Robespierre
held his council and attempted suicide, and also the window where our
Lafayette embraced Louis Philippe, and presented him to the mob in
1830. It is the same window where poor Louis XVI. addressed the savages,
when he wore the cap of liberty. By the way, I hate the sight of that
cap, which always reminds me of the lamp-post executions of the French
capital in 1792-3. Its prevalence in our happy country is owing to the
French mania which once possessed the people, and has very much died
out. The apartments are regal, and some of them, I think, quite superior
to those of Windsor Castle. In this building is a fine library, and here
are deposited the vast collection of American books obtained by
Vattemare, whom, you recollect, we saw at Washington.
I cannot tell you how sorely vexed we are to find the Louvre shut up for
repairs and decoration; every week they say it is to be reopened, but I
fear we shall leave Paris ere it happens.
How much we would all give to have you here; for, though we are glad to
tell you what we see, we feel there are scores of objects which interest
us that we have to pass over, but which would make your eyes glisten, if
you could gaze upon. Well, my dear fellow, stick to your business, make
your fortune, and then come and look at the beautiful and fair in the
old world; and who knows but perhaps we may yet chat cosily together in
Paris? O, I do love to wander through this city by moonlight, and gaze
upon the bright, lofty buildings as they loom up so gloriously in the
mild lustre of a silvery night. God bless you.
Yours affectionately,
JAMES.
Letter 26.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
We have been to dine at the Palais Royal, at the _Trois Freres
Provencaux_, of which I suppose the boys have told you; and I shall only
speak about the fine building, so renowned all over the world. The
Palais Royal is to Paris what Paris is to France. Its history is briefly
this: Cardinal Richelieu built it for himself; but the king, Louis
XIII., was jealous, and the wily old priest gave it to the monarch, and,
after Richelieu's death, he moved into it. In 1692, it fell into the
hands of Philippe, Duke of Orleans, as a gift, or marriage portion, from
Louis XIV., and here the great Orleans collection of paintings was
gathered, and which was sold in 1789, at the breaking out of the great
troubles. In 1814, Louis Philippe obtained it as his inheritance, and
lived there till 1831. The garden is very fine, and is about seven
hundred and fifty feet by three hundred, and has beautiful rows of
lime-trees, trimmed into shape, as are most of these trees in Paris. In
the centre are flower gardens and a basin of water, with a fine
fountain. In this open space are beautiful bronze and marble statues.
One I admired exceedingly; it is Eurydice, stung by a snake. In this
garden are hundreds of persons under the trees, on chairs, which are
hired, where they read and take refreshments. Under the arcades which
surround the area are the most tasty shops of Paris, and where you may
get any thing you please. A gayer sight than this same Palais Royal, or,
as they now call it, Palais National, cannot be seen in this world. I
shall not attempt to tell you about the apartments of the palace, and
which you can read of at your leisure. What a loss it was to the world
when, in February, 1848, six hundred thousand engravings, all classified
by Louis Philippe, and making one hundred and twenty-two enormous
folios, were destroyed by the mob, and the queen's own library also!
We lounged about from one shop to another, and made purchases of some
pretty things, which we hope may serve to show friends at home that we
did not quite forget them.
The Passage d'Orleans will never die out from my memory, nor shall I
ever forget the Cafe d'Orleans, with its mirrors, walls, and ceilings,
all radiant with a thousand lights. We find at every few steps the
magazine for the Indian weed, and all varieties of pipe, from the
commonest _en bois_ to the elegantly carved _ecume de mer_, which would
cost two or three hundred francs. Here, too, are the Theatres Francais
and Palais Royal, and other places of amusement.
In our walks about the city we are sure to have all the notable places
pointed out; and one morning, just after I had obtained a Henry IV.
silver coin, in fine preservation, we were taken home by a long walk
through the Rue St. Honore. The house No. 3, in this street, is the one
in front of which Henry IV. was assassinated by Ravaillac. A bust of the
king stands against the second story, with an inscription. In the Rue
Vivienne, No. 34, we saw the house where Moliere died, on which is a
marble tablet, with this inscription: "_Moliere est mort dans cette
maison, le _17_ Fevrier_, 1673, _a l'age de_ 51 _ans._" At the corner of
the same street, where a small passage way branches off, is a fine
monument to the memory of the great poet and the noblest comic writer of
France. The statue is of bronze, in a sitting posture; on each side are
figures,--one humorous, the other serious,--both looking at the statue.
At the foot of the monument is a basin to receive water, which flows
from three lions' heads. This work was put up in 1844, with public
services, on which occasion the first men of France took a part. Another
morning's walk led us to the Rue de l'Ecole de Medecine, and in this
street Marat lived, at No. 20, and here it was, in a small room, that he
was stabbed, while bathing, by Charlotte Corday, in 1793. And in this
same street was held the old club of the Cordeliers.
When I see the places of which I have heard so often it seems very
interesting, and will forever identify the scenes with my future
reading.
We all enjoyed a visit to the palace of the Luxembourg. This edifice was
begun in the sixteenth century, and the present palace was chiefly built
early in the next one, by Marie de Medicis, in imitation of one at
Florence. Bonaparte used it when chief consul. The old senate held its
sessions there till its dissolution, in 1814. I never saw a building
whose proportions appeared to me so elegant. The court is a
parallelogram of three hundred and sixty by three hundred feet. The
front consists of two pavilions, joined by terraces, and in the centre
rises a cupola, around which are statues. In such a palace fine rooms
are to be expected, and here they are in great number. The Senate
Chamber or Chamber of Peers, is very suitable for its purpose. The
library is good, and contains about fifteen thousand volumes. The
picture gallery is large, and at present principally filled with
pictures of living artists, and at his death the picture of each one is
removed to the Louvre. All the great paintings of Napoleon's battles are
gone to Versailles; so we shall see them in the series. The chapel is an
exquisite gem: it has, beyond all comparison, the most devotional air
of any thing I have seen _of the sort_.
The gardens are fine, and have some noble terraces, adorned with plenty
of statues, some of which are quite old; but a great many new ones, by
living artists, are rapidly taking their places. The balustrades of the
terraces are beautified with groups of children, athletae, &c. Here are
some fine old orange-trees, which were throwing out their blossoms most
fragrantly; and I must not forget the noble clusters of chestnut-trees
which are on the sides of the walks. The garden is a lovely spot, and I
saw hundreds of old and young, who seemed to enjoy themselves highly. I
am half surprised to find myself more delighted in Europe with the
completeness and splendor of the gardens and public grounds than with
the palaces and their internal gorgeousness. If I could carry back to my
own beloved country any thing from England or France, it should be their
gardens, their walks, their libraries and museums. As to the comforts
and elegances of life, we have enough of them for our good. The Musee
d'Artillerie is quite a place of interest, and here are seen some fine
suits of ancient armor. The arrangement is good, and an hour's attention
is well repaid.
Yours affectionately,
WELD.
Letter 27.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
This has been a great day for enjoyment, and has made us all in love
with Paris. We have seen, this morning, that which has pleased me more
than all else I have looked at in Europe. We spent several hours at the
Hotel de Cluny, in the Rue des Mathurins. I am surprised that so many
Americans come to Paris and never see this castle of curiosities. To
understand our gratification, I must bore you a little with its history,
and then you will see what a treat we enjoyed. This venerable pile was
erected on the site of the Palais des Thermes, formerly the
dwelling-place of the Roman governors of Gaul. Here Julian lived when he
was made emperor of Rome, in 360. Of the extraordinary remains of this
palace I shall tell you by and by. On this spot, then, in 1480, an abbot
of Cluny commenced this building, and it was completed in 1505. This
magnificent monastery--the city residence of the monks of Cluny--was
often made the residence of royal and distinguished visitors. Here for
two years lived Mary, the daughter of Henry VII. of England, and widow
of Louis XII. of France, who, while here, married the Duke of Suffolk.
Her chamber still exists, and we saw it in high preservation. This
marriage, you will remember, laid the foundation for the claim of Lady
Jane Grey to the crown. Here, too, for a season, the excellent abbess
and the nuns of Port Royal found a refuge. Some forty years ago, it came
into the hands of M. Sommerard, a man devoted to antiquarian pursuits,
and here he expended a large property in forming a vast collection of
all sorts of relics he could gather belonging to the medieval ages. A
few years ago, he died, and then the government wisely purchased the
hotel and its unrivalled museum for half a million of francs; and
additions are constantly made to it of every curiosity that can
illustrate the habits and manners of the early history of France and
Europe. The building is very striking in its first aspect. It has
several Gothic turrets, and very rich windows, and the court yards and
garden are all in keeping. What good times those old abbots, and monks
must have had in their visits to Paris, in such a palace as this was!
You pass from room, to room, all filled with the antique, till you get
leg-weary. The floors are exquisitely beautiful--some in fine old black
oak, let in, in patterns; others are bricks and tiles, in mosaic. Then
the old mantel-pieces are wonderfully fine. We saw plenty of tapestry,
old as the hills; and one set of hangings was the history of David and
Bathsheba. Some of the bedsteads are very curious. One belonged to
Francis I. Perhaps the largest and most valuable collection of carved
Wood furniture in the world is here to be seen. Such cabinets, chairs,
tables, chests, I never imagined. The work is of the most delicate and
complicated character. Then you find a wonderful collection of glass and
earthen ware--cups and goblets belonging to men of note of every age in
French history. One room is full of ancient armor, another of gems,
enamels, &c, another of pictures of the most curious kind; and as to
mirrors and looking-glasses, they are in great plenty; and china enough
to make some ladies in America whom I know break the commandment.
You can fancy, Charley, what sort of a place this must be, when I tell
you that the catalogue of this collection is a volume of two hundred and
forty octavo pages, and embraces eighteen hundred and ninety-five
particulars. I have the catalogue, and can assure you that it includes
some queer antiquities, of which we cannot speak particularly at
present.
A word or two about the ruins of Julian's Palace of the Baths. Here is
still a vast hall, which was doubtless the place for cold baths. The
dimensions are sixty feet by thirty-five. In the cellars are the evident
remains of the warm baths. The walls are of immense thickness, and will
probably last as long as the earth on which they rest. This hall is the
place of deposit for any Roman sculpture that may be found in the
excavations of the city.
I am sure that, next to the Crystal Palace, this has been our greatest
treat. We enjoyed this morning the more, because we had the company of
Mr. George Sumner, who has lived in Paris so long that he is perfectly
familiar with every object of interest. I never met with any one who
appeared to have so much local knowledge as he possesses. He knows the
history of every thing, and he seems at home on all names, dates, and
facts of other ages. Whenever we read up, after a walk with him, we find
that he knows all that is known; and in truth he talks like a book, but
better than most books. The attention of this gentleman has been very
great to us boys, and he seems never tired when doing us kindness. But
if Mr. S. knows places well, he is no less intimate with men; and
probably no American has ever enjoyed his opportunities to cultivate the
acquaintance of the best and greatest men in Paris.
We have visited the Church of St. Sulpice, which was begun in 1655, and
only completed late in the last century. The portico is very grand, and
is a double row of Doric pillars, forty feet high. It has two towers,
which are over two hundred feet high, and on which are telegraphs. The
church forms a cross, and is four hundred and thirty-two feet in
length, one hundred and seventy-four in width, and ninety-nine in
height. The organ is finely carved, and is more elaborate in its work
than any I have seen yet. The statuary, both in bronze and marble, here,
is beautiful, and the candelabra are greatly admired. As to pictures, I
can only say they are many and fine. The marble monument and statue to
Languet de Gergy, the former _cure_ of this parish, and who mainly
contributed to its erection or completion, is much admired, and on this
tomb is the most elegant inscription of modern times. But I cannot
insert it here. Directly in front of the church, in an open square, is a
very fine fountain, which partakes of the ecclesiastical in its
style--having in four niches the statues of Bossuet, Massillon,
Flechier, and Fenelon.
In our walk we were all struck with an immense wooden pile, which we
found was the Bibliotheque St. Genevieve. The front is very chaste, and
has very many arched windows. The library is more than three hundred
feet in length, and is covered on the exterior with the names of all the
great authors of every age and nation. We saw the names of many of our
countrymen--Washington, Franklin, Rumford, Clinton, Cooper, Prescott,
Irving, &c. We were unable to enter, as repairs were in progress, but
were told that the library has two hundred thousand volumes, and
several thousand MSS.
We have all been much gratified with the Church of St. Etienne du Mont.
It boasts an antiquity that dates back to 1131, and its tower and turret
are known to be as early as 1222. The exterior is remarkable for a
strange mixture of architecture, and some of the details are very
beautiful. The interior cannot fail to interest a thoughtful person, I
think. The pictures are very fine indeed, and some of the marbles are of
the highest excellence. We went into the little Chapel of St. Genevieve,
the patron saint of Paris, where is the tomb of the saint. The tomb was
literally stuck over with small tallow candles, and looked like a piece
of meat larded. The room was filled with worshippers, all on their
knees; and two women had as much anguish in their faces as I ever saw.
All the people kneeling at this tomb seemed far more intent and in
earnest than the hundreds at grand mass in the church proper. Just as we
stepped outside this chapel, we found on the wall the monuments of
Racine and Pascal, who are both buried in this church. The church was
full of people, and in one little chapel the priest was baptizing an
infant. We went in and looked on. It was the first time I had ever
witnessed this monstrous mummery in the Catholic church; and I called in
the Dr. and Mr. S., who were looking at some statuary. The priest was
hardly decent at his work. He did it all in a hurry,--put oil and
something else on the child, fore and aft,--and how men and women could
stand and let the stupidity take place on their children, I cannot
understand. After seeing Pascal's grave, and thinking of his immortal
works, it was poor preparation for the mountebank exhibition, and
awkward work of making Christians, that we witnessed. You know, Charley,
that I am not a lover of Romanism, but I never felt so thankful as on
that day for being a Protestant.
The pictures of this church are very well worthy of careful
notice--especially two, said to have been given by the city to the
saint, who caused a famine to stay its ravages, and restored a sick king
by intercession.
Now, pray, do not think me church mad if I carry you once more to
another old one. I am sure, if you had seen it, that it would cause you
to talk about it often. Well, it is the Church St. Germain des Pres.
This is regarded as the oldest in Paris, and was originally an abbey.
There was a church here as early as 560. This was probably built about
the middle of the ninth century, and its completion was in the twelfth;
for it was consecrated by Pope Alexander III. In this church was the
tomb of Childebert, the founder of the first edifice. The abbey had a
refectory, cloisters, &c, was surrounded by a moat, and had been
fortified. A large open field, close by, was the resort of duellists,
and many a bloody affray has there occurred. Casimir, King of Poland,
was an abbot of this church. The revolution was sadly injurious to this
fine sanctuary, and it was for a time converted into a saltpetre
manufactory. Charles X. repaired it, and after him Louis Philippe
carefully superintended its restoration. The inside of the church is a
cross, with a circular choir; and the arches are semi-circular, and
indicate great antiquity. The restoration of the nave and choir has been
most carefully done, at immense expense. The roof of the choir is
painted deep blue, with stars. The capitals of the columns are richly
gilt, and the shafts are painted in red stripes--exact copies of the old
devices. Nothing can be finer than the marble altar and the carved
stalls of the choir. Nor does the church lack for historical names among
its dead. Here are the tombs of Earl Douglass, Descartes, Mabillon,
Montfaucon, and Casimir of Poland, who died, abbot, in 1672. Every thing
here in ecclesiastical architecture is so different from all that we
have in our country, that I examine these noble relics with great
pleasure, and do not know but I shall soon become as antiquarian in my
taste as-you know who.
Yours affectionately,
JAMES.
Letter 28.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
On a fine morning we rode over to the Jardin des Plantes, accompanied by
Mr. R----, whose long residence has made him very familiar with this
lovely spot. I think we all looked forward to this excursion with great
anticipation, because we knew that this was the most famous garden in
Europe; and then, in connection with it, are the richest cabinets in the
world of natural history, mineralogy, geology, and a noble collection of
living animals from all countries. Ever since 1635, the world has been
placed under contribution to enrich this spot. The greatest botanists
and naturalists of Europe have labored here. Buffon himself was the
great man of the place in his day. Even revolutionary fury spared this
retreat and treasury of Nature. Bonaparte made it his pet, and when the
troops of Europe were at the walls of Paris, they agreed to respect and
preserve the spot so dear to science. This establishment is on the banks
of the river, and there are many portals by which entrance may be
obtained. The gardens are very large, but I cannot speak of their exact
size. They are in the neatest order. Every shrub and flower, plant and
tree, is labelled, so that reference is easy. I was delighted to see,
on a lofty eminence, the cedar of Lebanon. It is a glorious tree, and
was planted here in 1734, and is now about twelve feet round at its
base. We also saw some palm-trees which were given by Louis XIV. They
were, I should think, nearly thirty feet high.
The Menagerie has long been famous, and is most admirably laid out in
walks and enclosures, so that the animals have plenty of room for
exercise and pasture. Since the days of Noah's ark, I suppose there
never was such a collection of animals, clean and unclean. The bears,
elephants, lions, and tigers are all what are called first-rate
specimens.
We were pointed out the house where the celebrated Cuvier lived, and
which was his favorite residence. Here was his life's labor, the
Zooelogical Cabinet, which he arranged according to his system. Only
fancy a house about four hundred feet long, having three stories, and
all filled up with nearly two hundred thousand specimens; and the
preparations are almost as fine as the animal was in life.
The Museum of Comparative Anatomy, also, was the labor of Cuvier. The
collections of mineralogy and geology are very extensive; but I did not
have much time to examine them, nor are they as much in my line as some
other things. The specimens of precious stones were curious, and I was
pleased to see amber containing perfect insects, perhaps antediluvian
insects. And so we employed three hours upon what I should have liked to
pass three whole days. But it would take years of diligent study to
understand what is here to be seen.