This extensive inclosure was originally intended for the exercises of
the _École Militaire_, in front of which it is situated, as you will
perceive by referring to the Plan of Paris. Its form is a
parallelogram of four hundred and fifty toises in length by one
hundred and fifty in breadth. It is surrounded by ditches, faced with
masonry, which are bordered on each side by a double row of trees,
extending from the façade of the _ci-devant École Militaire_ to the
banks of the Seine. That building, I shall observe _en passant_, was
founded in 1751, by Lewis XV, for the military education of five
hundred young gentlemen, destitute of fortune, whose fathers had died
in the service. It stands on the south side of the _Champ de Mars_,
and serves at present as barracks for the horse-grenadiers of the
consular guard. On the third story of one of the wings is a national
observatory, which was constructed at the instigation of Lalande, the
celebrated astronomer.
The various scenes of which the _Champ de Mars_ has successively been
the theatre, are too interesting to be passed over in silence.
Indeed, they exhibit the character of the nation in such striking
colours, that to omit them, would be like omitting some of the
principal features in the drawing of a portrait. Often have they been
mentioned, it is true; but subsequent events have so weakened the
remembrance of them, that they now present themselves to the mind
more like dreams than realities. However, I shall touch on the most
remarkable only.
In 1790, a spacious arena, encompassed by a mound of earth, divided
into seats so as to accommodate three hundred thousand spectators,
was formed within this inclosure. To complete it speedily for the
ceremony of the first federation, required immense labour. The slow
progress of twenty-five thousand hired workmen could not keep pace
with the ardent wishes of the friends of liberty. But those were the
days of enthusiasm: concord and harmony then subsisted among the
great majority of the French people. What other sentiments, in fact,
could daily bring together, in the _Champ de Mars_, two hundred and
fifty thousand persons of every class, without distinction of age or
sex, to work at the necessary excavation? Thus, at the end of a week,
the amphitheatre was completed as if by enchantment.
Never, perhaps, since the time of the Spartans, was seen among any
people such an example of cordial union. It would be difficult for
the warmest imagination to conceive a picture so varied, so original,
so animated. Every corporation, every society was ambitious of the
honour of assisting in the erection of the altar of the country: all
wished to contribute, by individual labour, to the arrangement of the
place where they were to swear to defend the constitution. Not a man,
woman, or child remained an idle spectator. On this occasion, the
aged seemed to have recovered the vigour of youth, and women and
children to have acquired the strength of manhood. In a word, men of
all trades and professions were confounded, and cheerfully handled
the pickaxe and shovel: delicate females, sprucely dressed, were seen
here and there wheeling along barrows filled with earth; while long
strings of stout fellows dragged heavy loads in carts and waggons. As
the electric matter runs along the several links of an extensive
chain, so patriotism seemed to have electrified this whole mass of
people. The shock was universal, and every heart vibrated in unison.
The general good order which prevailed among this vast assemblage,
composed indiscriminately of persons of every rank and condition, was
truly surprising. No sort of improper discourse, no dispute of any
kind occurred. But what is still more singular and more worthy of
remark is, that the mutual confidence shewn by so many people,
strangers to each other, was in no one instance abused. Those who
threw off their coats and waistcoats, leaving them to the fate of
chance, during the time they were at work elsewhere, on their return
to the same spot found them untouched. Hence, as Paris is known to
abound with _filoux_, it may be inferred that the _amor patriæ_ had
deadened in them the impulse of their ordinary vocation.
Franklin, when promoting the emancipation of America, during his
residence in Paris, probably did not foresee that the French would
soon borrow his favourite expression, and that it would become the
burden of a popular air. Yet so it happened; and even Lewis XVI
himself participated in the patriotic labours of the _Champ de Mars_,
while different bands of military music made the whole inclosure
resound with _ça ira_.
To these exhilarating scenes succeeded others of the most opposite
nature. Hither the guillotine was transported for the execution of
the greatest astronomer of the age, and this with no other view than
to prolong his punishment. Bailly, as every one knows, was the first
mayor of Paris after the revolution. Launched into the vortex of
politics, he became involved in the proscriptions which ensued during
the reign of terror, and was dragged from prison to the _Champ de
Mars_, where, though exposed to the most trying insults, he died,
like a philosopher, with Socratic calmness.
In no one of the numerous victims of the revolution was the
instability of popular favour more fully exemplified than in Bailly.
In this _Champ de Mars_, where he had published martial law in
consequence of a decree of the Convention, in the very place where he
had been directed by the representatives of the people to repel the
factions, he expired under the guillotine, loaded with the execration
of that same people of whom he had been the most venerated idol.
Since those sanguinary times, the _Champ de Mars_ has chiefly been
the site chosen for the celebration of national fêtes, which, within
these few years, have assumed a character more distinguished than any
ever seen under the old _régime_. These modern Olympics consist of
chariot-races and wrestling, horse and foot races, ascensions of
balloons, carrying three or four persons, descents from them by means
of a parachute, mock-fights and aquatic tilting. After the sports of
the day, come splendid illuminations, grand fire-works, pantomimes
represented by two or three hundred performers, and concerts, which,
aided by splendid decorations, are not deficient in point of effect:
the evening concludes with dancing.
During the existence of the directorial government, the number of
national fêtes had been considerably increased by the celebration of
party triumphs. They are at present reduced to the two great epochs
of the revolution, the taking of the Bastille on the 14th of July,
1789, and the foundation of the Republic on the 23d of September,
1792. On the anniversary of those days, the variety of the
exhibitions always attracted an immense concourse. The whole of this
mound, whose greatest diameter is upwards of eight hundred yards, was
then covered with spectators; but were the _Champ de Mars_ now used
on such occasions, they would be compelled to stand, there being no
longer any seats for their accommodation.
The subject of national fêtes has, in this country, employed many
pens, and excited much discussion. Some say that they might be
rendered more interesting from the general arrangement; while others
affirm that they might be made to harmonize more with the affections
and habits of the people. In truth, this modern imitation of the
Greek festivals has fallen far short of those animating,
mirth-inspiring scenes, so ably described by the learned author of
Anacharsis, where, to use his own words, "every heart, eagerly bent
on pleasure, endeavoured to expand itself in a thousand different
ways, and communicated to others the impression which rendered it
happy." Whatever exertions have hitherto been made to augment the
splendour of these days of festivity, it seems not to admit of a
doubt that they are still susceptible of great improvement. If the
French have not the wine of _Naxos_, their goblets may at least
sparkle with _vin de Surenne_; the _Champs Elysées_ may supply the
place of the shady bowers of _Delos_; and, in lieu of the name of the
ill-fated NICIAS, the first promoter of the sports formerly
celebrated in that once-happy island, the air may be made to ring
with the name of the more fortunate BONAPARTE.
[Footnote 1: _Essais historiques sur Paris_.]
[Footnote 2: This was the name given by the soldiers to the Marshal's
favourite charger.]