D'ANTOINE J. B. ROBERT AUGET DE MONTYON,
BARON DE MONTYON,
CONSEILLER D'ÉTAT,
DONT L'INÉPUISABLE BIENFAISANCE
ET L'INGÉNIEUSE CHARITÉ
ONT ASSURÉ
APRÈS SA MORT, COMME DURANT SA VIE,
DES ENCOURAGEMENTS AUX SCIENCES,
DES RÉCOMPENSES AUX ACTIONS VERTUEUSES,
DES SOULAGEMENTS À TOUTES LES MISÈRES HUMAINES.
NÉ LE 23 DEC. 1733.--MORT LE 29 DEC. 1820.
ICI REPOSE SA DÉPOUILLE MORTELLE
TRANSPORTÉE DE LA COMMUNE DEMEURE DES MORTS
À L'ENTRÉE DE L'ASILE DES PAUVRES, SOUFFRANTS ET SECOURUS,
COMME À SA PLACE LÉGITIME,
PAR LA PIEUSE RECONNAISSANCE.
DE L'AUTORITÉ MUNICIPALE ET DE L'ADMINISTRATION DES HOSPICES
AUXQUELLES SE SONT ASSOCIÉES
L'ACADÉMIE FRANÇAISE ET L'ACADÉMIE DES SCIENCES,
XXVI MAI M.D.CCC.XXXVIII.
M. de Montyon was a remarkable man, in that he refused the exalted
office of Keeper of the Seals offered him by Louis XVI., for fear of his
moral character deteriorating: "Dites à Sa Majesté que je suis confus de
ses bontés. Si je fais un peu de bien dans la place que j'occupe, c'est
que je ne suis pas en évidence. En acceptant celle que l'on me propose,
je serais exposé à toutes les intrigues, à toutes les cabales de
l'envie; je n'aurais peut-être ni le talent ni la force nécessaires pour
y résister; dans le doute, je dois m'abstenir."
SAINT-LAURENT.
There is nothing in the present somewhat spick-and-span church to recall
its former state in the 6th century. The patron of Nürnberg, of the
Escorial, and of Genoa; the young martyr, who from the earliest
beginnings of Christian art has been one of its most popular subjects;
the saintly deacon, who, as painted by Fra Angelico, charms us by his
expression of sweet sanctity, and who, when depicted by the disciples of
horrors, makes us shudder and close our eyes--S. Laurence, the deacon,
has always been a favourite, and many are the churches dedicated to him.
He was a native of Osca or Huesca, in Aragon, and acted as deacon
(although a priest) to Sixtus II., bishop of Rome, in the middle of the
3rd century. He had the care of all the precious vessels of the church,
and of the money. Times were bad, and Sixtus was denounced as a
Christian; then Laurence, following the example of S. Stephen,
petitioned the good bishop to allow him to share the captivity. Before
Sixtus died he ordered Laurence to distribute all the money and treasure
amongst the poor, and predicted his disciple's martyrdom as worse than
his own. Laurence went about the city and distributed the alms, which,
when the tyrant heard thereof, caused him so much anger that he thrust
the deacon into prison, where he converted his gaoler. But the Prefect
ordered him to give up his treasure. Then Laurence gathered together the
poor and the sick, and presented them to the Prefect; and he being
enraged, concocted a new and terrible torture. He made a sort of
gridiron bed, upon which the young deacon was laid, and fire being
placed underneath, the victim was roasted to death. "Seest thou not, O
thou foolish man, being roasted on one side, thou shouldst turn me over,
that the other be well cooked," are the words recorded to prove his
steadfastness. Then he lifted his eyes to Heaven, and said, "I thank
Thee, O my God and Saviour, that I have been found worthy to enter into
Thy blessedness"; and so he passed away into bliss, and was buried in
the Via Tiburtina.
[Illustration: SAINT-LAURENT.]
Grégoire de Tours speaks of a monastery of S. Laurence in Paris; and S.
Domnole, bishop of Le Mans, who died in 581, had been previously its
abbot. This abbey has long since disappeared, and been lost to memory;
and the parish, which since the 13th century has taken its place, became
a dependency of the priory of S. Martin. The _façade_ of the present
building is no older than 1622; the nave and transept were erected in
the 16th, the choir and apse in the 15th century. A niche containing a
statue of S. John Baptist is commendable, and some of the details of
corbels, gargoyles, cornices, and other exterior decoration are quaint
and often grotesque: little beasties jumping about in foliage; small
children in fool's caps tumbling about in grotesque attitudes; one
little imp being whipped by the schoolmaster; Angels with animal
continuations; a hunter shooting arrows at a salamander, and divers
other monstrosities.
The interior is cold and uninteresting, the bosses being the best part
of the decoration. They are of all manner of devices: S. Nicholas
blessing his children; crowns, garlands, Angels' heads; foliage and
draperies, and a mass of ornament and little personages--the Virgin and
Child, S. John Baptist with his cross, S. Laurence and his gridiron, the
scenes from the Passion, and many other conceits.
The apse has been disfigured, after the manner of S. Séverin and S.
Germain l'Auxerrois, by Corinthian columns, pilasters, monograms, and
trophies--the work of Lepautre. The _jubé_ has gone, and divers other
Gothic "excrescences," and the church remains a grand example of the
last century barbarism. Well has Victor Hugo described those gentlemen,
so-called artists, who fell down and worshipped Fashion, as set by its
18th century votaries: "Les modes ont fait plus de mal que les
révolutions. Elles ont tranché dans le vif, elles ont attaqué la
charpente osseuse de l'art; elles ont coupé, taillé, désorganisé
l'édifice, dans la forme comme dans le symbole, dans sa logique comme
dans sa beauté. Et puis, elles ont refait; prétention que n'avaient eue,
du moins, ni le temps, ni les révolutions. Elles ont effrontément
ajusté, de par _le bon goût_, sur les blessures de l'architecture
Gothique leurs misérables colifichets d'un jour, leurs rubans de marbre,
leurs pompons de métal: véritable lèpre d'oves, de volutes,
d'entournements, de draperies, de guirlandes, de franges, de flammes, de
pierre, de nuages, de bronze, d'amours replets, de chérubins bouffis,
qui commence à dévorer la face de l'art dans l'oratoire de Catherine de
Médicis, et le fait expirer, deux siècles après, tourmenté et grimaçant,
dans le boudoir de la Dubarry."
SAINT-LEU-SAINT-GILLES.
About the year 600, the town of Sens was besieged by Clotaire's general,
Blidebodes, and grievous was the pain and suffering to which the
inhabitants were subjected. But the bishop, Lupus,[99] Leu, or Loup was
a holy man, and while the warriors fought he passed his time in prayer.
Then he bethought him of a little stratagem. Ostensibly for the object
of collecting the citizens for prayer, he set to, and vigorously pulled
the church bell. The crowd rushed from all parts of the town, and
following the example of their spiritual father, they threw themselves
on their knees. Presently came the news that the siege was raised; at
the sound of the bell, the enemy had fled precipitately. This, all but
miracle, may be accounted for by the fact that bells were first
introduced into France about this time (615); and if Clotaire's
soldiers, coming from the north and west, had never heard any before,
they may have felt much the same sort of terror as was said to have been
instilled into the natives during the Ashantee war by the Scottish
bagpipes.
Considering that the church has two patrons, it ought surely to be in
some way remarkable; but the fact is, it is a very insignificant little
building, and devoid of beauty of any kind. It formerly belonged to the
Abbey of S. Magloire from which it was separated by only a small space
of ground; the abbey having been situated in the Rue S. Denis, and the
church in what is now the Boulevard Sebastopol. The latter must have
been built in the 13th century, as the abbé Lebeuf found a notice in the
archives of S. Magloire to the effect that some little bells had been
placed in S. Leu. The church has been so repaired, so cut about (the
east end was lopped off when the new boulevard was pierced); it has been
so mutilated and travestied, that little remains of the old building.
Some of the bosses are elegantly and curiously carved. We see S. Giles
and his hind, and S. Loup in episcopal vestments; the 17th century
marble bas-reliefs illustrating the Passion; quaint emaciated bodies
and large heads are the characteristics of the crowd.
In one of the chapels, the first on the south, is a curious picture
commemorating a terrible event, which led to a miracle. The inscription
reads thus:
CETTE IMAGE A ESTÉ FAITE L'AN 1772
EN L'HONNEUR DU SIGNALE MIRACLE ARRIVÉ À PARIS À LA RUE AUX
OURS PAROISSE DE ST. LEU ST. GILLES LE 3^{ME} JUILLET L'AN 1415
EN MEMOIRE DE QUOY.
LES BOURGEOIS DE LA DITE RUE TOUS LES ANS À PARCIL JOUR
BRULENT L'EFIGIE
DU MALFAICTEUR QUI MALHEUREUSEMENT FRAPPA L'IMAGE DE LA
SAINCT
VIRGE DE LA QUELLE SORTIT DU SANG ET FUT PUNI PAR ARREST DE LA
COUR DE PARLEMENT COME IL EST REPRÉSENTÉ CY DESSOUS.
The picture represents the Virgin and Child sitting under an elegant
baldachino, the curtains of which are borne by Angels, who are holding,
at the same time, a crown over the head of the holy mother. The
following description by Père Du Breul[100] gives the story of the
miracle:
"Le troisième du mois de juillet 1418, veille de sainct Martin,[101]
Bouillant, un soldat ou goujat sortant d'une taverne qui estoit dès lors
en la rue aux Ours, désespéré d'avoir perdu tout son argent et ses
habits à jouer, jurant et blasphémant, frappa furieusement d'un couteau
une image de la Vierge Marie qui estoit au coin de ladite rue. Laquelle
image rendit du sang en abondance; de quoy estant advertie la justice,
il fut mené par devant l'image, fut frappé d'escourgées depuis six
heures du matin jusques au soir, tant que les entrailles luy sortoient,
et eut la langue percée d'un fer chaud. Au mesme lieu, tous les ans et à
tel jour, on fait un feu pour souvenance de ce miracle.... Audit lieu se
voit encores une image de Nostre Dame enfermée d'un treillis, auprès de
laquelle, contre la parvy, le jour que ce faict ledit feu, l'on attache
une tapisserie où est représenté l'histoire susdite."
Horrors of this kind were common enough in the 14th and 15th centuries;
indeed, when we think of Damiens' tortures, even the 18th century was no
more humane or decent. In the account of the Black Death in 1348, when
500 persons were buried daily, and Jews were tortured and burnt for
poisoning the people (as the populace affirmed), an order of Philippe
IV. was issued that all blasphemers should have their lips or tongues
cut off, as a sanitary measure to dispel the plague. It is curious that
such doings should be commemorated in a church dedicated to S. Giles,
that gentle hermit who screened the wounded hind from its pursuers, and
gave an eternal reproof to the votaries of the hunt. One can imagine
what the hermit-Saint would have thought of thus torturing a man, being
not only the protector of hunted animals and woodlands, but also of
those specimens of human misery, the lepers. Yet for many years the
hideous cruelty described above was celebrated as a sort of Guy Fawkes
festival, with fireworks, and mannikins of gigantic size, which were
marched about the neighbourhood to the terror of all the youthful
inhabitants.
SAINT-LOUIS D'ANTIN.
Little need be said of the church which formerly belonged to the
Capuchins who were transferred from the Faubourg S. Jacques to the new
quarter of the Rue d'Antin in 1783. The church was built by Brongniard,
but is of no importance whatever. It now forms a part of the Lycée for
those connected therewith who do not find science and literature all
that is requisite to their souls' weal.
SAINT LOUIS EN L'ILE.
This church stands upon the little island of the same name, and was
commenced by Louis Levau in 1664; Gabriel Leduc continued the work, and
Jacques Doucet finished it in 1726. Men are said to be happy if they are
minus a history. Not so churches; without it they are anything but
interesting. And so we will pass on from the second S. Louis, just
noting some of the modern woodwork as respectable.
SAINT-LOUIS DES INVALIDES.
Built by Libéral Bruant from 1671 to 1679, this church has a certain
grandeur, and could the dome be seen from it by taking away the
intervening partition of ugly painted glass, it would be very imposing.
The latter, the burial-place of Napoleon and of some of his generals,
contains also monuments and statues of other military heroes. This part,
the cupola (or Tombeau as it is generally termed), was built by Jules
Hardouin Mansard, and dedicated by the Cardinal de Noailles in 1706. The
exterior is very fine, and, with its gilding, forms a beautiful landmark
for all parts of the city and suburbs. The interior, if somewhat
pompous, and over addicted to yellow glass, is nevertheless very grand;
and the general effect of the magnificent baldachino over the altar
(just such an arrangement as was wanted in S. Paul's), and the subdued
light, make a decidedly striking _coup d'oeil_.
[Illustration: LE TOMBEAU DE NAPOLÉON.]
The statues of Charlemagne and of S. Louis are by Coyzevox and Nicolas
Coustou; the cupola was painted by Charles de Lafosse and by Jouvenet.
The statue of Turenne, which has at last found a resting-place, after
having been shunted about since its departure from S. Denis, is the work
of Tuby and Marsy. In the centre, under the beautiful dome, is
Napoleon's tomb, sunk some feet below the surface.
In the chapel proper are rows of flags of all nations suspended from
each side of the roof; but beyond these there is little that is
picturesque except during the military mass on Sunday morning. Then,
when the pensioners line the aisle, bearing their swords and halberds;
when the drums beat at the Elevation, and the old men present arms, the
effect is both grand and intensely pathetic. Formerly the military band
played throughout the offices; now the duty is done by the organ.
LA SAINTE-MADELEINE.
If good materials and excellent workmanship can make a building
interesting, assuredly the Madeleine ought to be so. Commenced in 1764
as a church, its fate was somewhat similar to that of S. Geneviève, for,
in 1806, Napoleon, then busy in Posen, sent his orders that it should be
finished as a Temple of Glory. The pediment was to bear the following
inscription:--"L'empereur Napoléon aux soldats de la grande armée;" and
the 5th article of the decree was thus composed: "Tous les ans, aux
anniversaires des batailles d'Austerlitz et d'Iéna, le monument sera
illuminé, et il y sera donné un concert précédé d'un discours sur les
vertus necessaires au soldat, et d'un éloge de ceux qui périrent sur le
champ de bataille dans ces journées memorables.... Dans les discours et
odes, il est expressément défendu de faire mention de l'empereur."
Pierre Vignon carried on the work, and the building grew into a
magnificent temple, planned upon the Maison Carrée of Nismes. The
results of Waterloo turned it again church ways, but it was not finished
until 1842. The bronze doors are perhaps the best work of Baron de
Triqueti; and the group of the Magdalen over the altar may be no more
mundane and meretricious than is usual in Marochetti's performances. The
picture in the vault over the altar is a jumble by Ziegler of sacred and
secular personages, from the Magdalen and her Master down to Napoleon
the arrogant. It is supposed to be an allegory of the history of
Christianity, which Clovis introduced to France, and Napoleon patted on
the back by means of the Concordat. The most important position in the
picture is occupied by the last-named brigand--the poor Pope even being
in a secondary place, somewhat inferior to the imperial eagle. The group
in the baptistry is by Rude; the one opposite, in a chapel dedicated to
marriage, by Pradier. It was in the Madeleine that some of the
Communards were massacred in 1871. At the end of the struggle, about 300
of them were driven into the church; and there, before the altar where
their victim, the abbé Duguerry had officiated, they were mown down in
terrible retribution, with no more mercy shown them than they had
accorded to the hostages.
In the interior fittings of the church, no expense has been spared, and
what it lacks in beauty as regards sculpture and painting it possesses
in its marble walls and its carved woodwork. The pulpit is an excellent
piece of modern wood-carving; the details of the ornament are in the
best style; and so are most of the worshippers; for it is one of the
fashionable churches of Paris. There, especially at the lazy mass (as
the old writer has it, "la messe des paresseux," which was said at "la
plus haute heure du matin," at "unze heures,") you see "_des mondaines_"
by the dozen; only the lazy eleven o'clock has become one in the
afternoon. What in the world would the old chronicler have said to the
swarms of fashionables who just save their souls by hurrying off after a
comfortable _déjeuner_ to those one o'clock masses? But there is a
mixture at the Madeleine; old ladies of the _noblesse_; _nouveaux
riches_; a few soldiers who like the music; half-a-dozen husbands who go
as a duty to their wives; an old Bretonne gorgeous in chains and muslin,
and velvet bodice; and two or three black women, charming in the yellow
silk handkerchiefs which swathe their heads. It is a mixture, and what
brings them? Probably the music, for at no church in Paris, and few
elsewhere, do you hear such refined, soft, emotional strains as there.
Sometimes the boys' voices are not of the best; but the artistic taste
with which they sing is always there. S. Roch has a reputation for its
choir, gained many years ago by its execution of the masses of Mozart
and Haydn; but it no longer deserves it. S. Eustache also is celebrated
for its music. But there is a special tone about that of the Madeleine
one meets with nowhere else; it aims at raising one's soul from the
earth upon which it is supposed to grovel; it certainly never interrupts
prayer or disturbs thought. Even on Good Friday, when the old _Passione_
by Haydn, or the new one by Dubois, is performed, refinement, not
clatter, is the distinguishing characteristic. If only some of our
London organists would take a leaf out of the Madeleine music-book! Just
think of the noise at a certain West-end church, which is the model of
all that ritual should be. From its foundation, what we all loved was
the refinement of its music; it was the exponent of Gregorian chants and
Plain song. Now the most elaborate compositions are performed for the
edification and vanity of the choir. Church music ought certainly to be
an aid to prayer, not a disturbing force; but what else can it be, when
organ and choir are all shrieking Haydn's Imperial Mass, or Beethoven in
C, and each man or boy is trying to get the mastery? It is a bitter duel
between organ and voices. All the great masters' masses are sung at the
Madeleine; but you can devote yourself to your own prayers all through
them without being disturbed, if you so wish. Moreover, one hour
suffices in Paris for what in London endures an hour and a half, or
more. And is not the long, elaborate _credo_ answerable for the
objectionable Roman practice of sitting through the greater part of it?
Of course church music should be of the most perfect kind; but
perfection is sure to be greater where less is attempted; and the mere
repetitions of words, and the placing of the accent upon the wrong note
in the English translation, make these elaborate masses unsuitable in
our churches.
[Illustration: PÈRE HYACINTH PREACHING AT THE MADELEINE.]
The ceremonial at the Madeleine always gives strangers the impression of
having been over-rehearsed. The black-clothed beadles walk about with
measured steps, particularly the frog faced one; the _Suisses_ in their
cocked hats leisurely saunter about with their halberds looking the
essence of flunkeyism, and never issue from their stereotyped expression
of importance and unmixed boredom, except upon occasions when a
foreigner fails to kneel at solemn moments. Why need the good Protestant
remain sitting when the bell rings, feigning a kneeling posture by a
sort of zigzag attitude? Up comes the _Suisse_, and shaking the back of
his chair, tries to jerk him out of it. Why not stand, if rags of popery
and scarlet women prevent you kneeling? Or why go at all, if you cannot
do at Rome as Rome does? I confess to feeling a sensation of distress,
and am much upset when that chair-tipping begins. And the worst of if is
that, although the victim is innocent of what lies in store for him, we,
who know the ways of the _Suisses_, anxiously anticipate the fatal
moment. Sometimes, too, the British-born struggles to look pious, while
he furtively reads his Baedeker, never dreaming that the benighted
foreigner knows that Classic by its blood-red exterior. We are a great
people, and are justly proud of our institutions; but we should be no
less great if we had a little more respect for other folks, and other
folks' manners and customs.
It is curious how the church beadle varies. At the Madeleine he is pure
flunkey. His cocked hat is high and broad, like the old Bumble of our
childhood; he is whiskered, but not bearded; he has an arrogant way with
him as he precedes the priest who makes the collection; and as he
carries the bag into which the alms are emptied from time to time, he
looks the essence of important officialism. Likewise, when he demands,
in a commanding voice, "Pour les pauvres, _s'il_ vous _plait_!" few
persons would say him nay. Not so the _Suisses_ of S. Eustache; they
have the military air; the cocked hat is low, and worn as by the
Marshals of France. Such are they also at S. Roch, and at both churches
they salute at the Elevation, _à la militaire_.
It has always seemed to me that the author of _Monsieur, Madame et
Bébé_, pictured the Madeleine in his scenes of Madame at church; at all
events I have often seen the like. She kneels on her velvet-covered
_prie-Dieu_, and tells her beads; and then, between a _Pater Noster_ and
a new batch of _Ave Marias_, she turns round to a neighbour, "Ah! chère
madame, comment allez vous? et monsieur votre mari? Et la chère petite
Bébé?" "Merci, chère baronne, mon mari ne va pas trop mal; il a la
migraine, voilà tout. Et Bébé, c'est un ange; elle est ravissante, le
petit chou. Mais moi, je souffre, oh, comme je souffre! je suis
tellement éreintée que.... Je vous salue Marie, pleine de grâce."....
"How adorable is the Madeleine," said Dibden; but he meant its exterior
at twilight, when the lights spring up on the neighbouring boulevards.
And so it is in its way; but its way is to some of us not the most
beautiful way.
Many are the functions which take place there; marriages and funerals by
the score. At the latter, it affords ample room under its portico for
that terrible French custom which forces all the family of the deceased
to stand by the door and receive the condolences of their friends and
acquaintances. How do they ever survive it? And why do they not rebel
against the conventionality, and give it up? Because they are at once
the most conventional of nations, added to the most revolutionary. The
funeral terror is greater in France that here at home; it is one of the
few things in which we are ahead of our neighbours. We do not waste
quite so much upon putting our friends underground, although we too are
compelled to pay twice as much as we ought. But in some respects the
French are far more decent. Men raise their hats at passing funerals,
and I have never seen the undertakers sitting in the open car when
returning from the cemetery; an indecent proceeding like the one
immortalized in _Figaro_. "Mon Dieu! What strange people, ces Anglais!
When they return from a funeral, the friends of the deceased ride upon
the top of the hearse with their legs hanging over it!"
One of the beauties of the Madeleine is the flower-garden at its feet,
and the tree-planted boulevards which surround it. How pleasant it is to
be able to sit down in the air upon a warm evening; would that we could
do likewise! Here, sunset is the last moment when we can breathe the air
of most of the parks, without perpetually tramping round and round upon
our weary legs. But in Paris we may sit and gaze upon the buildings by
moonlight if we like; and certainly, that is the most flattering time
for the Madeleine. Its portico, lighted up by the moon with the dark
shadows thrown behind it, has a decidedly grand appearance.
SAINTE-MARGUERITE.
The church, dedicated to
_Mild Margarete, that was God's maid;_
_Maid Margarete, that was so meke and mild,_