THE VAL DE GRÂCE--RELICS OF THE GREAT.
The Deaf and Dumb Institution--The Val de Grâce--Hearts as Relics--Royal
Funerals--The Church of Saint-Denis.
Returning from the Museum of Artillery to the Museum of the Hôtel Cluny,
we see, from the Cluny garden, the portico of the ancient church of
Saint-Benoit, first transformed into the Théâtre du Panthéon, and then
demolished. Enclosed by the church and cloister of Saint-Benoit was an
open space, in which, on the 5th of June, the day of the Fête-Dieu,
1455, François Villon, the wild vagabond poet, assassinated the priest
Philippe Chermoye, his rival in love. Closed at the time of the
Revolution, and then sold as national property, it was afterwards, in
1813, converted into a flour depôt. In 1832, on the site of the ruined
church, was built the Théâtre du Panthéon, where Alexandre Dumas brought
out his drama of _Paul Jones_. The Théâtre du Panthéon, after remaining
closed for some years, was pulled down in 1854. Near it, however, on the
other side of the Hôtel Cluny, looking towards the Boulevard
Saint-Germain, was built the Théâtre des Folies Saint-Germain, where
were produced _Les Inutiles_ of Edouard Cadol, _Les Sceptiques_ of
Felicien Mallefille, and a number of other amusing pieces.
[Illustration: THE DEAF AND DUMB INSTITUTION.]
* * * * *
In the neighbourhood of the Hôtel Cluny and of the Théâtre Cluny is a
very interesting establishment: the Deaf and Dumb Institution of the
benevolent Abbé de l’Epée, to whom the deaf and dumb are indebted not
only for the language of signs, which for them replaces speech, but also
for the establishment in which the deaf and dumb children receive the
education and instruction necessary for them to make their way in the
world. But those inmates intended by their parents for a liberal
profession are charged one thousand francs (£40) a year. The
departments, communes, and charitable institutions of the country
maintain purses of about 6,000 francs. The State has the disposal of 140
purses, from which it makes to the institution an annual allowance of
70,000 francs. There are higher classes for children who desire to
follow them, with workshops for children who will have to subsist by
manual labour. In 1785 the Deaf and Dumb School, carried on until that
time in the Rue des Moulins at the Butte Saint-Roch, received an annual
subvention of 34,000 francs. The Abbé de l’Epée died on the 23rd of
December, 1789, at the age of seventy-seven. His funeral oration was
pronounced on the 23rd of January, 1790, by the Abbé Fauchet,
preacher-in-ordinary to the king. On the 21st of July in the following
year the National Assembly voted an annual sum of 12,700 livres (_i.e._,
francs) for the Deaf and Dumb School, which now, from the Convent of the
Celestins, where Queen Marie Antoinette had established it, was
transferred to the ancient seminary of Saint-Magloire, Rue du Faubourg
Saint-Jacques.
The Deaf and Dumb School was reconstructed in 1823 by the architect, M.
Peyre, who left it as it now stands. It is looked upon as the perfect
model of institutions of the kind. It contains, besides the class-rooms,
refectories, dormitories, and workshops, not to mention the rooms in
which the sittings of the “Central Society of Education and Assistance
for the Deaf and Dumb” are held.
Almost opposite the entrance to the Deaf and Dumb Institute is the Rue
des Ursulines, and just beyond, the Rue des Feuillantines, where Victor
Hugo passed the happiest years of his childhood, to which reference is
made in some of the finest verses of the _Orientales_. The Rue
Saint-Jacques now joins the Rue d’Enfer, which separates it from the
Boulevard Saint-Michel. The Rue d’Enfer owes its ominous name to a
belief entertained in the eighteenth century that it was haunted by the
fiend. Various plans for driving away the common enemy of man were
suggested, until at last the bright idea occurred to someone of making
over the entire street to an order of monks, who, it was thought, would
be able, if anyone could, to deal with the invader from below. Either by
some exorcising process, or by the natural dread which Satan or his
emissary could not fail to experience at being brought beneath the
observation of so many pious brethren, the Rue d’Enfer, from the time of
its passing into the hands of the religious order, became one of the
quietest thoroughfares in Paris. It still, however, in memory of the old
legend, preserves its ancient name. No. 269 in the Rue d’Enfer, which
runs out of Paris by the side of the Luxembourg Gardens, and takes us
almost to suburban parts, is the house, formerly a Benedictine
monastery, where, until the Revolution, was preserved the body of James
II. of England, who had died at Saint-Germain-en-Laye on the 16th
September, 1701, and of Louise Marie Stewart, his daughter, who died at
the same place in 1727.
We now approach the Val de Grâce, that superb monument which Anne of
Austria founded in 1641 as a thank-offering for the birth of the
dauphin, afterwards Louis XIV., who came into the world when his mother
had been twenty-two years without giving birth to a child. The young
king, now in his eighth year, laid the first stone of the Val de Grâce
on the 1st of April, 1645. Mansard, the royal architect, had drawn up
the plan and begun the work, when serious difficulties presented
themselves; for the site of the church was just above the catacombs. To
reach a foundation, it was necessary to make a number of deep piercings,
besides supporting the new edifice with blocks of solid masonry. One of
Molière’s few serious poems is in honour of the Val de Grâce and of its
architect, who was numbered amongst his most intimate and most cherished
friends. After a very short time, however, the direction of the works
was taken from Mansard, and given to Jacques le Mercier. Finally, Pierre
de Muet was entrusted with the difficult but honourable task; nor did he
finish the work without the assistance of two other architects, Gabriel
le Duc and Duval.
The façade of the Val de Grâce, like that of the Sorbonne, is composed
of two Corinthian orders, placed one above the other. Around the cupola
Pierre Mignard has painted a large fresco representing the abode of the
blest, divided into many mansions. This admirable work is certainly (as
Molière pointed out in the poem previously referred to) Mignard’s
masterpiece; and it may well be regarded as the most important
wall-painting in Paris. The mosaic of the marble pavement, in spite of
its dilapidated condition, is another attraction connected with this
fine building. The principal altar, reproduced from that of St. Peter’s
at Rome, had been destroyed in the revolutionary days of 1793. But the
architect, Ruprich Robert, reconstructed it by order of the Emperor
Napoleon III.; and it was consecrated after the fall of the Second
Empire, on the 28th of July, 1870. The paintings which adorn the chapel
are by Philippe of Champagne and his nephew, Jean Baptiste. The dome,
which seemed to be in an insecure condition, was reconstructed and
strengthened by means of iron supports in 1864 and 1865.
Closed in 1790, the Church of Val de Grâce was used as a magazine for
stores during the Republic and the Empire; and it was not restored to
public worship until 1826. The hearts of the princes and princesses of
the royal family were successively deposited in the different chapels of
the church, the first being that of Ann Elizabeth, daughter of Louis
XIV., who died in tender years; the last that of Louis, Duke of
Burgundy, who died March 27, 1761. These hearts were thrown to the winds
in 1793, but not the reliquaries of gilded enamel in which they were
enclosed. One alone was saved: the heart of the dauphin, son of Louis
XVI. and of Marie Antoinette, which was restored to the royal family and
afterwards deposited at Saint-Denis in 1817. Two hearts are still
deposited in the ancient vaults: that of an English woman named Mary
Danby, of whom no record has been preserved, and that of Larrey, the
illustrious surgeon-in-chief to the Grand Army, whose statue in bronze,
by David of Angers, adorns the courtyard of the Val de Grâce.
The last king of France and of Navarre died on the 6th of July, 1836,
and it was not until nine days afterwards, on the 15th of July, that the
fact was made known to the French public through the columns of the
_Gazette de France_. The heart, too, of Charles X. was, according to
royal custom, separated from the body; though instead of being preserved
apart, as in the case of former French kings, it was, after being
enclosed in a heart-shaped box of lead, again enclosed in a box of
enamel fastened with screws to the top of the coffin. The Comte de
Chambord, on the other hand, was buried in the ordinary manner, and not,
like Charles X., with his heart on the coffin lid; nor like Louis
XVIII., with his heart in one place and his body in another. The dead,
according to the German ballad, “ride fast.” But the living move still
faster; and in France, almost as much as in England, the separation of a
heart from the body to be kept permanently as a relic is in the present
day a process which seems to savour of ancient times; though, as a
matter of fact, it was common enough, at least among the French, at the
end of the last century. In our own country the discontinuance of what
was at one time as much a custom in England as in France, or any other
Continental land, is probably due to the influence of the Reformation,
which, condemning absolutely the adoration of the relics of saints, did
not favour the respectful preservation of relics of any kind. Great was
the astonishment caused in England when, in the last generation, it was
found that Daniel O’Connell had by will ordered his heart to be sent to
Rome. The injunction was made at the time the subject of an epigram
which was intended to be offensive, but which would probably have been
regarded by O’Connell himself as the reverse, setting forth, as it did,
that the heart which was to be forwarded to Rome had never, in fact,
been anywhere else. The reasons for which, in the Middle Ages, hearts
were enclosed in precious urns may have been very practical ones.
Sometimes the owner of the heart had died far from home; and, in
accordance with his last wishes, the organ associated with all his
noblest emotions was sent across the seas to his living friends. Such
may well have been the case when, after the death of St. Louis at Tunis,
the heart of the pious king was transmitted to France, where it was
preserved for centuries, perhaps even until our own time, in the
Sainte-Chapelle. In the year 1798, while some masons were engaged in
repairing the building, which had been converted into a _depôt_ for
state archives, they came across a heart-shaped casket in lead,
containing what was described as “the remains of a human heart.” The
custodians of the archives drew up a formal report on the discovery,
and, enclosing it in the casket with the remains, replaced the whole
beneath the flagstones under which they had been found. In 1843, when
the chapel was restored, the leaden heart-shaped casket was found anew,
and a commission was appointed to decide as to the genuineness of the
remains believed to be those of St. Louis. An adverse decision was
pronounced, the reasons for discrediting the legend on the subject being
fully set forth by M. Letrenne, the secretary of the commission.
More authentic are the remains cherished at Rouen as representing the
heart of Richard the Lion-hearted; though in this case again all
similitude to a heart, whether in shape or in substance, has entirely
disappeared. The descendants of St. Louis have in most cases had their
hearts preserved, though for different reasons from those which seemed
to have actuated the pious Crusader in his distant exile. Louis XIV.,
whose body, like that of his predecessors and successors even to the
eighteenth of the same name, was to be buried at Saint-Denis, gave his
heart to the Jesuits: “that heart,” says the Duc de Saint-Simon, “which
loved none and which few loved.” The heart of Louis XVIII. was in like
manner entrusted to the keeping of a religious house; and the same
custom would doubtless have been followed when Louis XV. died of
small-pox, had the dangerous condition of the body allowed of its being
done.
[Illustration: ELM TREE IN THE COURT OF HONOUR AT THE DEAF AND DUMB
INSTITUTION.]
From Louis XV. to Louis XVIII. no king of France died on the throne. But
when the postmortem examination was made of the child who perished in
the Temple, Dr. Pelletan, one of the surgeons who took part in the
operation, placed aside the heart of the so-called Louis XVII., and,
some twenty years afterwards, offered it to Louis XVIII., who, however,
declined the gift. Whether the king disbelieved Dr. Pelletan’s story, or
whether, as a certain set of writers maintain, he regarded as two
different beings the child who died in the Temple and Louis XVII.
(believed by many to have been smuggled out of prison and replaced by a
substitute) has never been made known. The reputed heart of Louis XVII.
did not in any case possess for Louis XVII.’s successor the value that
Dr. Pelletan had hoped. Such relics cannot indeed be prized if any
uncertainty exists as to their identity. About the same time that Dr.
Pelletan, by his own account, was appropriating to himself the heart of
Louis XVII., the heart of the great Buffon somehow became lost. Buffon
had bequeathed his heart to a friend for whom he entertained the deepest
affection. But the son, who had a great affection for his father,
refused to part with it, and offered in its place his father’s brain.
The heart was somehow lost in the midst of the revolutionary troubles,
but the brain has been preserved even until now. The illustrious Cuvier
wished at one time to purchase it, in order to place it at the foot of
Buffon’s statue. At another time the Russian Government wished to buy
it; and a high bid was once made for it by the proprietor of a museum of
curiosities; until at last it became the property of the State.
[Illustration: STATUE OF THE ABBÉ DE L’EPÉE AT THE DEAF AND DUMB
INSTITUTION.]
The heart of Buffon may probably, like many others, have been stolen for
the sake of its casket. Hearts intended to be preserved were usually
enclosed in cases not of lead--as by exception the heart of St. Louis
seems to have been--but of silver, and even gold. The precious metal was
often, moreover, adorned with jewels of great value. Every precaution,
in fact, was taken to render as difficult as possible the permanent
preservation of the object which it was desired to keep for ever; and,
as a natural result, the number of hearts which have come down to the
present day is exceedingly small. Nearly all the hearts in cases now to
be met with are those of modern celebrities. That of Voltaire--which
after being reverently kept until his death by his friend and admirer,
the Marquis de Villette, was at the Marquis’s death given by his heirs
to the state--can be seen at the National Library of Paris. But the
Hôtel des Invalides is, more than any other French establishment, rich
in hearts of the great. There the hearts are religiously preserved of
Turenne, of La Tour d’Auvergne, of Kléber, and of Napoleon. In England
the encased heart best known to us is probably that “Heart of Bruce”
celebrated in Aytoun’s “Lay” on the subject. Boece, in the story on
which Aytoun’s poem is partly founded, relates that when Sir James
Douglas was chosen as most worthy of all Scotland to pass with King
Robert’s heart to the Holy Land, he put it in a case of gold, with
aromatic and precious ointments, and took with him Sir William Sinclair
and Sir Robert Logan, with many other noblemen, to the holy grave,
“where he buried the said heart with the most reverence and solemnity
that could be devised.” According to Froissart, however, and other
authorities, Bruce’s heart was brought back to Scotland. Douglas, the
keeper of the heart, encountering the infidels, endeavoured to cut his
way through, and might have done so had he not turned to rescue a
companion whom he saw in jeopardy. In attempting this he became
inextricably mixed up with the enemy. Then taking from his neck the
casket which contained the heart of Bruce, he cast it before him, and
exclaimed with a loud voice, “Now pass onward as thou wert wont, and I
will follow thee.” These were the last words and deeds of an heroic
life. Douglas, quite overpowered, was slain; and it was not until the
following day that the heart of Bruce and the body of Douglas were both
recovered. Brought back to Scotland, the heart was deposited at Melrose,
and the Douglas family have ever since carried on their armorial
bearings a bloody heart. This is one of the few hearts which have been
preserved to a good purpose, and its preservation in the present day is
largely due to its having been embalmed in verse.
The obsequies of the French kings have from the earliest times been
attended with as much pomp and show as their coronations. It was not
enough to embalm the body, place it in several coffins and finally carry
it to the tomb; it was necessary, before transporting it to the royal
burial-place of Saint-Denis, to observe a ceremonial which the court
functionaries and the officials of state made a point of following in
the most literal manner. In the first place, the effigy of the dead king
was exposed for forty days in the palace, stretched out on a state bed,
clothed in royal garments--the crown on the head, the sceptre in the
right hand, and the brand of Justice in the left, with a crucifix, a
vessel of holy water, and two golden censers at the foot of the bed. The
officers of the palace continued their duties as usual, and even went so
far as to serve the king’s meals as though he were still living. The
body was afterwards transported to the abbey of Saint-Denis, with the
innumerable formalities laid down beforehand; while, at the moment of
interment, so many honours were paid to it, that to enumerate them would
be to fill a small volume. So precisely was the ceremony regulated that
battles of etiquette constantly took place among the exalted persons
figuring in the ceremony. At the burial of Philip Augustus the Papal
Legate and the Archbishop of Rheims disputed for precedence, and, as
neither would give way, they performed service at the same time, in the
same church, but at different altars. A like scandal occurred at the
funeral of St. Louis. When his successor, Philip III., wished to enter
the abbey of Saint-Denis at the head of the procession, the doors were
closed in his face. The abbot objected to the presence, not of the king,
his master, but of the Bishop of Paris and the Archbishop of Sens, whom
he had observed among the officiating clergy, and who, according to his
view, had no right to perform service in the abbey of Saint-Denis, where
he alone was chief. The difference was arranged by the archbishop and
bishop taking off their pontifical garments and acknowledging the
supremacy of the abbot in his own abbey.
At the death of Charles VI. it was found necessary to consult the Duke
of Bedford as to the conduct of the funeral ceremony, and, under the
direction of the foreigner, it was performed with great magnificence.
The duke observed as nearly as possible the ancient ceremonial, the only
important variation being that (possibly in his character of Englishman)
he ordered the interment to be followed by a grand dinner. Several
disputes on the favourite subject of etiquette had already taken place,
when at the dinner-table the presence of the Registrars of the
Parliament was objected to by the king’s sergeants-at-arms. The point,
when referred to the Master of the House, was decided in favour of the
registrars.
These royal funerals cost naturally enormous sums of money, which were
charged partly to the crown, partly to the city of Paris. The obsequies
of Francis I. cost his successor five hundred thousand livres, without
counting the contribution--which was probably of equal amount--from the
town. The effigies of his two sons who had died before him were carried
with him to Saint-Denis. Thus there were three coffins in the
procession. By the observance of a similar custom, there were in the
funeral procession of St. Louis no fewer than five.
At the funerals of the old kings genuine grief was often exhibited by
the people. Such, however, was not the case at the obsequies of Louis
XIV. The Duc de Saint-Simon, in his “Memoirs,” speaks of this funeral as
a very poor affair, remarkable only for the confused style in which it
was conducted. The king had left no directions in regard to his burial;
and, partly for the sake of economy, partly to save trouble, it was
decided to regulate the ceremonies by those observed at the interment of
Louis XIII., who, in his will, had ordered that they should be as simple
as possible. “His modesty and humility, as well as other Christian and
heroic qualities, had not,” says Saint-Simon, “descended to his son. But
the funeral of Louis XIII. was accepted as a precedent, and no one saw
any harm in that, or in any other way objected to it, attachment and
gratitude being virtues no longer to be found.” This was again shown by
the absence of the Duke of Orleans, just appointed regent, on the
occasion of the heart being carried to the Grand Jesuits. When, a month
later, the solemn obsequies of the king were celebrated at Saint-Denis,
everything took place with such confusion, “and so differently from what
was observed at the funerals of Henry IV. and Louis XIII.,” that
Saint-Simon declines to narrate the scene. He cannot, however, help
recording a quarrel on a point of etiquette, which took place between
three dukes of the realm and Dreux, the Master of the Ceremonies.
Possibly the question raised affected his own personal dignity as a
duke. “The Dukes of Uzès, of Luynes, and of Brissac,” writes
Saint-Simon, “were appointed to carry the crown, the sceptre, and the
brand of Justice, being the seniors of those competent for the
duties.... When the ceremony had just begun Dreux approached the stall
occupied by the Duke of Orleans to receive some order. Then M. d’Uzès
went forward before the other princes and chief mourners, and said to
Dreux that he begged him to remember that the three dukes must be
saluted before the Parliament. Dreux replied that he should do nothing
of the kind. He was son of the Councillor of the Great Chamber, who had
sent the king’s testamentary disposition as regards the regency to the
assembled Parliament. His son, then, was careful not to take part
against the Parliament when the office held by his father was, prior to
his own, the first cleanser of his low origin. M. d’Uzès was content to
ask him his reasons. ‘Because it would be against rule,’” said Dreux.
“This liar replied insolently and falsely,” adds Saint-Simon, “for his
own registers, which are in my possession, show that the dukes were
without difficulty saluted before the Parliament at the obsequies of
Louis XIII., Henry IV,, etc. Their dignity requires it; the symbols of
royalty carried by them require it; their seats, raised higher than
those of the Parliament, prove it in the most evident manner. M. d’Uzès
insisted, but Dreux continued to be offensive, and insisted on his side,
appealing to his registers. As they could not then be referred to he was
believed, on his more than frivolous word, by the Duke of Orleans, who
had intervened, but who took a very feeble part in the laconic
conversation. He cared neither for riches nor dignities. He wished to
humour the Parliament, above all, at the beginning, but he was not sorry
to see a new quarrel arise.”
In addition to the usual distribution of alms, the Regent of Orleans
associated the funeral of Louis XIV. with an exceptional act of mercy. A
number of persons had been arbitrarily imprisoned on _lettres de cachet_
and otherwise, some for Jansenism and various religious and political
offences; others for reasons known only to the king; others, again, for
reasons known to former ministers of the king, but to no one else. The
regent ordered all the captives to be set at liberty, with the exception
of a few whom he knew to be guilty of serious political or criminal
misdeeds. Among the prisoners liberated from the Bastille was an
Italian, who had been confined for thirty-five years, and who had been
arrested the day of his arrival at Paris, which he had come to see
simply as a traveller. “No one ever knew why,” says Saint-Simon, “nor,
like most of the others, had he ever been interrogated. It was thought
to be a mistake. When his liberty was announced to him, he asked sadly
of what use it was to him. He said that he had not a sou, that he knew
no one at Paris, not even the name of a street nor a single person in
any part of France, that his relations in Italy were probably dead, and
that his property must have been divided among his heirs, considering
how long he had been away from the country and that no one knew what had
become of him. He asked to be allowed to remain at the Bastille for the
rest of his life with board and lodging. This was granted to him, with
liberty to go out when he pleased. As for the prisoners taken out of the
dungeons, into which the hatred of the ministers and that of the Jesuits
had thrown them, the horrible condition in which they appeared inspired
dread, and rendered credible all the cruelties they related when they
were in full liberty.” The story of the prisoner who declined to leave
the Bastille is additionally interesting from its having been reported
of another prisoner--possibly real, probably imaginary--on the occasion
of the Bastille being taken by the Revolutionists in 1789.
The funeral of Louis XV. was a very hurried affair. The king died on the
10th of May at twenty minutes past three. The whole court instantly took
flight, and there only remained with the body the persons necessary to
take care of it. The utmost precipitation was used in removing it from
Versailles. None of the usual formalities were observed. Everyone was
afraid to go near the body. Undertakers, like the rest, feared the
small-pox of which the king had died, and the corpse was carried to
Saint-Denis in an ordinary travelling-carriage, under the care of forty
members of the body-guard and a few pages. The escort hurried on the
dead man in the most indecent manner; and all along the road the
greatest levity was shown by the spectators. The taverns were filled
with uproarious guests, and it is said that when the landlord of one of
them tried to silence a troublesome customer by reminding him that the
king was about to pass, the man replied, “The rogue starved us in his
lifetime; does he want us to perish of thirst now that he is dead?” A
jest different in style, but showing equally in what esteem Louis XV.
was held by his subjects, is attributed to the Abbé of Saint-Geneviève.
Being taunted with the powerlessness of his saint, and the little effect
which the opening of his shrine, formerly so efficacious, had produced,
he replied: “What, gentlemen, have you to complain of? Is he not dead?”
[Illustration: THE VAL DE GRÂCE FROM THE RUE DE LA SANTÉ.]
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE PONT DE LA CONCORDE.]
The last of the Bourbons buried at Saint-Denis was Louis XVIII., whose
obsequies were conducted as nearly as possible on the ancient regal
pattern. The exhibition of the king’s effigy in wax had in Louis
XVIII.’s time been out of fashion for more than a century. But the
customs observed in connection with the lying-in-state of Louis XIV.
were for the most part revived. The king, who died on the 16th of
September, 1824, was embalmed, and on the 18th was exposed on a state
bed in the Hall of the Throne. His bowels and heart had been enclosed in
caskets of enamel. The exhibition of the body lasted six days, during
which it was constantly surrounded by the officers of the crown and the
superior clergy. The translation of the remains to Saint-Denis took
place on the 23rd, in the midst of an imposing civil and military
procession. The princes of the blood and grand officers of state
occupied fourteen mourning coaches, each with eight horses, and the tail
of the procession was formed by four hundred poor men and women bearing
torches. Received at the entrance to the church by the Dean of the Royal
Chapter and the Grand Almoner of France, the body was placed on trestles
in the chancel while prayers were recited by the clergy. It was
afterwards removed to an illuminated chapel, where it remained exposed
for a whole month, the chapter performing services night and day. The
interment took place on the 25th of October. The Grand Almoner said a
solemn mass; and after the Gospel a funeral oration was pronounced by
the Bishop of Hermopolis. Then four bishops blessed the body, and
absolution having been pronounced, twelve of the body-guard carried down
the coffin to the royal vault, and the Grand Almoner cast a shovelful of
earth on the coffin, blessing it, and saying, “_Requiescat in pace_.”
The king-at-arms approached the open vault, and threw into it his wand,
his helmet, and his coat of arms, ordered the other heralds to imitate
him, and calling up the grand officers of the crown, told them to bring
the insignia of authority held from the defunct king. Each came in
succession with the object entrusted to his care--such as the banner of
the royal guard, the flags of the companies of the body-guard, the
spurs, the gauntlets, the shield, the coat of arms, the helm, the
pennon, the brand of justice, the sceptre, and the crown. The royal
sword and banner were only presented at the mouth of the vault. The
Grand Master of France inclined at the same time towards the coffin the
end of his staff, and cried in a loud voice: “The king is dead!” The
king-at-arms, taking three steps backwards, repeated in the same tone
“The king is dead! The king is dead! The king is dead!” Then turning
towards the persons assembled, he added: “Let us all pray to God for the
repose of his soul.” The clergy and all present fell on their knees,
prayed, and then stood up. The Grand Master then drew back his staff
from above the vault, raised it in the air, and cried: “Long live the
king!” The king-at-arms repeated: “Long live the king! Long live the
king! Long live King Charles, the tenth of the name, by the grace of God
King of France and of Navarre; very Christian, very august, very
powerful; our honoured lord and master, to whom may God give a very long
and very happy life. Cry all: ‘Long live the king!’” Music then sounded,
and all present responded with cries of “Long live the king! Long live
Charles X.!” The tomb was closed, and the ceremony was at an end.
At the funeral of the Comte de Chambord the hearse was surmounted by a
dome, on which rested four crowns. It was not explained what kingdoms
these crowns were intended to represent. As the head of the house of
France, the right of the Count--heraldically speaking--to wear the
French crown would scarcely be disputed. The four symbolical crowns on
the Comte de Chambord’s hearse were possibly, then, meant to be simple
reminders that the Bourbons claimed sovereign rights over four different
countries; and, in the days of Louis Philippe, they in fact reigned in
France, Spain, Naples, and Parma. But the revolution of 1848 in France,
and the war of 1859 in Italy, cleared three thrones of their Bourbon
occupants, and the last of the reigning Bourbons disappeared when, in
1868, Isabella of Spain fled from Madrid. Thus in the course of twenty
years the four Bourbon crowns lost all real significance, and the
Bourbon sovereigns increased the number of those “kings in exile,” so
much more plentiful during the period of M. Alphonse Daudet than in that
of Voltaire, who first observed them (in “Candide”) as a separate
species.
Now that the Comte de Chambord reposes by the side of his grandfather,
Charles X., there are as many of the Bourbons buried at Göritz as at St.
Denis, where, in the burial-place of the French kings, the only really
authentic bodies are those of the Duc de Berry, the Comte de Chambord’s
father, and of Louis XVIII., his great-uncle. In regard to the latter
occupants of the French throne, one knows at least where they are
interred--Napoleon I. at the Invalides, Louis Philippe at Claremont,
Napoleon III. at Chiselhurst, and the last two representatives of the
Bourbons at Göritz. The first of the Bourbons Henry IV., together with
his successors, Louis XIII., Louis XIV., and Louis XV., were all buried
at St. Denis, in the vault known as that of the Bourbons; and to the
coffins still supposed to contain their remains were added after the
Restoration two more, which are reputed, without adequate foundation for
the belief, to hold the bodies of Louis XVI. and of the child who died
in the Temple--the so-called Louis XVII. The body of the Duc de Berry
was laid in the vault of the Bourbons a few days after his
assassination in 1820; and that of Louis XVIII. was consigned to the
same resting-place in 1824. But in 1793 the tombs of the French kings
had been dismantled and their contents reinterred promiscuously in two
large graves hastily dug for their reception; and the identity of the
bones asserted to be those of Louis XVI. and Louis XVII., which were not
placed in the Bourbon vault of the St. Denis church until 1815, could
scarcely be demonstrated. “To celebrate the 10th of August, which marks
the downfall of the French throne, we must on its anniversary,” said
Barère in his report on the subject, addressed to the French Convention,
“destroy the splendid mausoleums at St. Denis. Under the Monarchy the
very tombs had learned to flatter the kings. Their haughtiness, their
love of display, could not become softened even on the theatre of death;
and the sceptre-bearers who have done so much harm to France and to
humanity, seem even in the grave to be proud of their vanished
greatness. The powerful hand of the Republic must efface without pity
these arrogant epitaphs, and demolish these mausoleums which would bring
back the frightful recollections of the kings.”
The proposition of Barère was adopted, and the National Assembly decreed
“that the tombs and mausoleums of the former kings in the church of St.
Denis should be destroyed.” The execution of the decree was undertaken
on the 6th of August, and three days afterwards fifty-one tombs had been
demolished. One of the most remarkable of these tombs was the
earliest--the tomb erected by St. Louis in memory of “Le Roi Dagobert,”
of facetious memory, famed in song for having put on his breeches “à
l’envers.” It is one of the most curious monuments of the thirteenth
century, and at least as interesting by its subject as by its
architecture. In three zones superposed, the first above the second, the
second above the third, is represented the legend of Dagobert’s death.
In the lowest of the three zones we see St. Denis revealing to a
sleeping anchorite named Jean that King Dagobert is suffering torments;
and close by the soul of Dagobert, represented by a naked child bearing
a crown, is being maltreated by demons frightfully ugly, who are holding
their prey in a boat. In the middle zone the same demons are running
precipitately from the boat in the most grotesque attitudes at the
approach of the three saints--Denis, Martin, and Maurice--who have come
to rescue the soul of King Dagobert. In the highest of the bas-reliefs
the soul of King Dagobert is free. The naked child is now standing in a
winding-sheet, of which the two ends are held by St. Denis and St.
Martin, and angels are awaiting him in Heaven, whither he is about to
ascend. The commission appointed by the Convention did not destroy this
tomb. They had it transported, with many other objects of artistic or of
intrinsic value, to Paris; and on presenting to the National Assembly
what had been saved from the general wreck, the representative of the
commission spoke as follows:--“Citoyens représentatives--” Les prêtres
ne sont pas ce qu’un vain peuple pense; Notre crédulité fait toute leur
science.[B] Such was the language formerly held by an author whose
writings prepared our revolution; the inhabitants of Franciade (the new
Republican name given to the religious and royal St. Denis) have just
proved to you that it is not foreign either to their mind or their
heart. It is said that a miracle caused the head of the saint which we
now offer you to travel from Montmartre to St. Denis. Another miracle,
greater and more authentic, the miracle of the regeneration of opinions,
brings this head to Paris. The new translation is marked, however, by
this difference. The saint, according to the legend, kissed his hand
respectfully at each step; and we have not once been tempted to kiss the
offensive relic. His journey will not this time be chronicled in the
martyrologies, but in the annals of reason; and it will be doubly useful
to the human species. This skull and the holy rags which accompany it
will cease at last to be the ridiculous object of popular veneration and
the aliment of superstition, fanaticism, and lies. The gold and silver
which surround them will help to strengthen the empire of liberty and
reason. The treasures amassed in the course of centuries by the pride of
kings, the stupid credulity of the devout, and the charlatanism of
deceitful priests, seem to have been reserved by Providence for this
glorious epoch. It will soon be said of kings, of priests, and of
saints, They have been. Reason is now the order of the day; or, to speak
the language of mysticism, the last judgment has arrived with the
separation of the bad from the good. You, formerly the instruments of
despotism, saints of both sexes, blessed of all kinds, be at least
patriots: rise in a body, march to the help of our native land, be off
to the mint--and may be by your help obtain in this life the happiness
you promised us in another. We bring to you, citizen legislators, all
the rottenness that existed at Franciade. But as in the midst of it
there are objects designated by the Commission of Monuments as precious
for the arts, we have filled with them six chariots; you will say where
they can provisionally be placed, that the Commission may make a
selection.”
[B] The priests are not what a shallow people thinks them; our credulity
is all their learning.
When Louis XVIII. returned to the throne of his ancestors, he made it
almost his first care to re-establish their tombs, and he entrusted the
work to the well-known architect, M. Viollet-Le-Duc. The task of
disinterring and sorting the bones of the ancient kings would have been
too difficult; but coffins presumed to be those of Louis XVI. and Marie
Antoinette were discovered in the cemetery of the Madeleine, and another
coffin, which might have been that of Louis XVII., was also found. These
three coffins were in 1815 placed with great solemnity in the vault of
the Bourbons; to which, as before mentioned, were added in 1820 and 1824
the coffins (with bodies enclosed) of the Duc de Berry and of Louis
XVIII. The one king whose remains can be said beyond doubt to be in the
ancient burial-places of the French kings is Louis XVIII.