The _Pont Neuf_ is certainly the largest, and, on account of its
situation[1], the most conspicuous, and most frequented of any of the
bridges in Paris; but, in the environs of the capital, is one which
surpasses them all. This is the _Pont de Neuilly._
The first stone of the _Pont Neuf_ was laid by Henry III in 1578, and
the foundation of the piles was begun to be formed on the opposite
side; when the troubles of the League forced DU CERCEAU, the
architect, to withdraw to foreign countries. The work was not resumed
till the reign of Henry IV, who ordered it to be continued under the
direction of MARCHAND; but, owing to various causes, the _Pont Neuf_
was not finished till 1674.
The length of this bridge is one thousand and twenty feet, and its
breadth seventy-two; which is sufficient to admit of five carriages
passing abreast. It is formed of twelve arches, seven of which are on
the side of the _Louvre_, and five on the side of the _Quai des
Augustins_, extending over the two channels of the river, which is
wider in this place, from their junction.
In 1775, the parapets were repaired, and the foot-way lowered and
narrowed. SOUFFLOT, the architect of the Pantheon, availed himself of
this opportunity to build, on the twenty half-moons which stand
immediately above each pile, as many rotundas, in stone, to serve as
shops. On the outside, above the arches, is a double cornice, which
attracts the eye of the connoisseur in architecture, notwithstanding
its mouldering state, on account of the _fleurons_ in the antique
style, and the heads of Sylvans, Dryads, and Satyrs, which serve as
supports to it, at the distance of two feet from each other.
As the mole that forms a projection on this bridge between the fifth
and seventh arch, stands facing the _Place Dauphine_, which was built
by Henry IV, it was the spot chosen for erecting to him a statue.
This was the first public monument of the kind that had been raised
in honour of French kings. Under the first, second, and third race,
till the reign of Lewis XIII, if the statue of a king was made, it
was only for the purpose, of being placed on his tomb, or else at the
portal of some church, or royal residence which he had either built
or repaired.
Parisians and strangers used to admire this equestrian statue of
Henry IV, and before the revolution, all agreed in taking him for the
model of goodness. In proof of his popularity, we are told, in the
_Tableau de Paris_, that a beggar was one day following a passenger
along, the foot-way, of the _Pont Neuf_: it was a festival. "In the
name of St. Peter," said the mendicant, "in the name of St. Joseph,
in the name of the Virgin Mary, in the name of her divine Son, in the
name of God?" Being arrived before the statue of the conqueror of the
League, "In the name of _Henri quatre_" exclaimed he, "in the name of
_Henri quatre?_"--"Here!" said the passenger, and he gave him a louis
d'or.
Unquestionably, no monarch that ever sat on the throne of France was
so popular as _Henri quatre_; and his popularity was never eclipsed
by any of his successors. Even amidst the rage of the revolutionary
storm, the military still held his memory in veneration. On opening
the sepultures at St. Denis in 1793, the coffin of Henry IV was the
first that was taken out of the vault of the Bourbons. Though he died
in 1610, his body was found in such preservation that the features of
his face were not altered. A soldier, who was present at the opening
of the coffin, moved by a martial enthusiasm, threw himself on the
body of this warlike prince, and, after a considerable pause of
admiration, he drew his sabre, and cut off a long lock of Henry's
beard, which was still fresh, at the same time exclaiming, in very
energetic and truly-military terms: "And I too am a French soldier!
In future I will have no other whiskers." Then placing this valuable
lock on his upper lip, he withdrew, adding emphatically: "Now I am
sure to conquer the enemies of France, and I march to victory."
In Paris, all the statues of kings had fallen, while that of Henry IV
still remained erect. It was for some time a matter of doubt whether
it should be pulled down. "The poem of the _Henriade_ pleaded in its
favour;" but, says Mercier, "he was an ancestor of the perjured
king," Then, and not till then, this venerated statue underwent the
same fate.
It has been generally believed that the deed of Ravaillac was
dictated by fanaticism, or that he was the instrument employed by the
Marchioness of Verneuil and the Duke of Epernon for assassinating
that monarch. However, it stands recorded, I am told, in a manuscript
found in the National Library, that Ravaillac killed Henry IV because
he had seduced his sister, and abandoned her when pregnant. Thus
time, that affords a clue to most mysteries, has also solved this
historical enigma.
This statue of Henry IV was erected on the 23d of August, 1624. To
have insulted it, would, not long since, have been considered as a
sacrilege; but, after having been mutilated and trodden under foot,
this once-revered image found its way to the mint or the
cannon-foundry. On its site now stands an elegant coffeehouse,
whence you may enjoy a fine view of the stately buildings which
adorn the quays that skirt the river.
While admiring the magnificence of this _coup d'oeil_, an Englishman
cannot avoid being struck by the multitude of washerwomen, striving
to expel the dirt from linen, by means of _battoirs_, or wooden
battledores. On each side of the Seine are to be seen some hundreds
hard at work, ranged in succession, along the sides of low barks,
equal in length to our west-country barges. Such is the vigour of
their arm that, for the circumference of half-a-mile, the air
resounds with the noise of their incessant blows. After beating the
linen for some time in this merciless manner, they scrub it with a
hard brush, in lieu of soaping it, so that a shirt which has passed
through their hands five or six times is fit only for making lint. No
wonder then that Frenchmen, in general, wear coarse linen: a hop-sack
could not long resist so severe a process. However, it must be
confessed, that some good arises from this evil. These washerwomen
insensibly contribute to the diffusion of knowledge; for, as they are
continually reducing linen into rags, they cannot but considerably
increase the supply, of that article for the manufacture of paper.
Compared to the Thames, even above bridge, the Seine is far from
exhibiting a busy scene; a few rafts of wood for fuel, and some
barges occasionally in motion, now and then relieve the monotony of
its rarely-ruffled surface. At this moment, its navigation is impeded
from its stream being swollen by the late heavy rains. Hence much
mischief is apprehended to the country lying contiguous to its banks.
Many parts of Paris are overflowed: in some streets where carriages
must pass, horses are up to their belly in water; while pedestrians
are under the necessity of availing themselves of the temporary
bridges, formed with tressels and planks, by the industrious
Savoyards. The ill consequences of this inundation are already felt,
I assure you; being engaged to dinner yesterday in the _Rue St.
Florentin_, I was obliged to step into a punt in order to reach the
bottom of the stair-case; and what was infinitely more mortifying to
the master of the house, was that, the cellar being rendered
inaccessible,--he was deprived of the satisfaction of regaling his
guests with his best claret.
On the right hand side of the _Pont Neuf_, in crossing that bridge
from the _Quai de l'École_ to the _Quai de Conti_, is a building,
three stories high, erected on piles, with its front standing between
the first and second arches. It is called