many of them caricatures of men and animals, which express the
grotesqueness of the German mind. Single pearls of extraordinary
size, nearly all found in the River Elster, are cut into odd shapes,
some of them representing rustics, jesters, and elves. A pearl, large
as a hen’s egg, is intended to portray a Spanish court dwarf, and
is superbly done. Trinket as it is, it could not be purchased for
twenty-five thousand dollars. There is, besides, any number of costly
trifles, on which a vast deal of ingenuity and money must have been
expended, and which are interesting from their artistic merit.
The seventh apartment is radiant with the splendid regalia used at the
coronation of Augustus II.
Augustus is inseparably associated with the history of Saxony, and the
antecedents of Dresden. He succeeded his father, John George III.,
as Elector of Saxony, though not until after his elder brother’s
death, in 1694, and was elected to the throne of Poland, made vacant,
two years later, by the decease of John Sobieski. The Polish nobles
were unwilling to be ruled over by anybody but a Roman Catholic,
and Augustus, whose theology was of a very accommodating quality,
abandoned Protestantism for the sake of the crown.
Between his wars, his intrigues, and his parades, his sixty-three
years of life were superlatively busy. He was highly educated for his
time, and so much interested in art that he began the collection of
pictures in the Dresden Gallery, and purchased many of the valuable
curiosities now in the Green Vaults. His reign was marked by luxury
and splendor, and his court was the constant resort of artists,
alchemists, and adventurers of both sexes, on whom he lavished
countless favors. The celebrated Countess of Königsmark was one of
his many mistresses, and bore him a son, who subsequently figured so
prominently in French history as Maurice, Count de Saxe.
[Sidenote: ROMANTIC STORIES OF A KING.]
Augustus was such a prodigal that he loaded Saxony with debt, and
inspired the magnates of Poland to imitate his improvident example in
Warsaw. Elegant, accomplished, daring, and unscrupulous, he made war
on men and love to women to the end of his days. If all the accounts
be true, he was as charming as Apollo and as strong as Hercules. The
archives of Dresden attest his wonderful muscle to such a degree
that Samson would have been no match for him. One of his pastimes was
to become enamoured of some distinguished lady he had never seen; go
in search of her; throw her husband, father, or brother, just as it
happened, over high walls, and then carry her off in his arms as if
she had been a feather weight.
These tales are interesting, but there are too many of them to be
credible. I cannot tell how large the Saxon or Polish women were a
century and a half ago, but I will lay a large wager that Augustus
could not carry very far many of them I have seen recently. If he had
the taste ascribed to him, I am sure he would not make the attempt,
unless it should happen to be in the night, when darkness reduces
beauties and beldames to the same level.
[Sidenote: ROYAL PASTIMES.]
Persons going to Dresden, or indeed to any part of Saxony, will spare
themselves questions by presuming that Augustus has done nearly
everything worth doing in the entire kingdom. He is to Saxony what St.
Patrick is to the south of Ireland, King David to Scotland, or Charles
V. to Belgium.
The eighth and last apartment entirely eclipses all the others in the
richness and magnificence of its contents. One of the wonders of this
cabinet, called the Court of the Great Mogul, was made by Dinglinger,
an artist justly considered the Benvenuto Cellini of Saxony. The
Court represents the Emperor Aurengzebe on his throne, surrounded by
courtiers and soldiers,—about one hundred and forty figures,—in pure
gold enamelled, attired in costumes appropriate to the country and the
time. Each figure has its individual expression and character, as will
be perceived by close observation.
This marvellous toy, which is really a work of the highest art,
employed Dinglinger (he was the court jeweller during the early part
of the eighteenth century) for nearly ten years, and cost one hundred
thousand dollars. Another carving of a similar character portrays
different artisans with a fineness and finish which no one would
expect, considering its diminutive proportions. There are also other
specimens of his exceeding skill that fully entitle him to the fame
he has achieved.
A specimen of uncut Peruvian emeralds, bestowed by the Emperor Charles
V. on the Elector of Saxony, is one of the finest in the world, and a
mass of solid native silver from the Himmelfüst mine of Freiberg so
well illustrates its richness as to enable me to believe that in fifty
years nearly twenty-two hundred tons of silver were obtained from that
single mine.
The Saxon regalia there exhibited includes the sword of the elector,
carried by the princes at the imperial coronations; the decorations of
a miner’s uniform made for the Elector John George; a great number of
chains, collars, and orders of the Garter, Golden Fleece, and Polish
Eagle; and a curious antique portrait (a cameo of onyx) of Augustus
the Strong. A sardonyx six and a half inches long, and four and a half
broad, reputed to be the largest extant, attracts much attention from
its oval shape and beautiful regularity.
Two rings once worn by Martin Luther appeal not a little to earnest
Protestants. One of these, an enamelled seal ring, cut with a death’s
head, and the motto “_Mori sæpe cogita_” (Reflect often on death),
is sufficiently mournful in suggestion to satisfy the most dismal of
theologians. The other ring is a carnelian bearing a rose, and in its
centre a cross.
[Sidenote: A RARE COLLECTION OF JEWELS.]
Then comes a glass case of the rarest and costliest jewels, the first
division containing superb sapphires, the largest of them uncut, the
gift of Peter the Great. The second division is full of splendid
emeralds; the third of magnificent rubies (the two largest weighing
forty-eight and sixty carats); the fourth abounding in beautiful
pearls, one native set being little inferior to the Oriental; while
the fifth division is radiant with diamonds.
Such another collection does not exist anywhere in the world. If
these diamonds were sold for the sum they would very readily bring,
they would more than pay off, it is said, the entire national debt
of Saxony. The diamond decorations for the gala dress of the elector
consists of buttons, collar, sword and scabbard, all incrusted with
the largest and most valuable stones, some of them weighing fifty
carats each. The most remarkable of the stones is a green brilliant,
weighing one hundred and sixty carats, and said to be worth two
millions of dollars. There are also various orders studded with
diamonds and many single gems, yellow, rose, and green in color, as
well as pure white.
[Sidenote: DIAMONDS IN ABUNDANCE.]
Admirers of diamonds can have an ocular banquet there; for the
collection is magnificent beyond description. I have seen women
hang over them until their eyes fairly watered (I wonder if this
is the reason they are called gems of the first water), and I have
noticed men regard them with a passion for possession that savored
of wildness. As mere objects of beauty, they are deserving of all
admiration. Those priceless gems are constant miracle-workers. The
smallest ray of light that falls upon them is converted into a
glorious sheen. They make the very atmosphere brilliant, emitting from
every point a radiance which is dazzling. Hardly any conjuration of
magic can be greater. The blaze of jewels, when the sunlight touches
them, is almost overpowering. The mines of Golconda, as they were
in their palmiest days, appear to be open, and all their glorious
treasures to be flashing, scintillating, coruscating at once.
[Sidenote: PRECAUTIONS AGAINST THEFT.]
One might imagine that the diamonds and many of the other valuables of
the Green Vaults would be in danger from the admission of strangers.
The naturalness of this opinion has doubtless given rise to the story
that unseen soldiers have their muskets levelled through invisible
loopholes in the walls at the head or breast of everybody entering the
royal treasury. This is a mere romance, never having had the smallest
foundation in fact. Such precautions are not at all necessary; for
nobody could steal anything, and get away with it, even if he should
try. The costliest objects are covered with strong iron or steel
wires, not sufficient to obstruct the view, bµt enough to prevent
their seizure by any designing or dishonest person. Moreover, the
custodian, who conducts you through the cabinets, locks and bolts each
door after him, so that the thief could not easily make his escape;
and if he did succeed in getting beyond the walls, an alarm would be
immediately given, which would almost necessarily insure his capture.
The value of the entire collection at Dresden it is almost impossible
to give. I have heard it estimated at from twenty millions to
twenty-five millions of dollars, and even as high as fifty millions.
Most of the works of art, as well as the jewels, are actually beyond
price; for they could not be replaced. They could not be purchased
any more than the Raffaelles, Correggios, and Titians, in the famous
Picture Gallery in the same city.
It is said that numerous efforts have been made during the past
hundred years to rob the Green Vaults.
One of these was by two Poles, who had had a wide experience in
forgery, burglary, and crimes of all sorts, in the early part of the
present century. They had at first designed to secure a number of
confederates, but afterwards abandoned the idea, fearing that their
secret would be unsafe when so many persons shared it. After revolving
various plans in their mind, they concluded to depend upon themselves
alone, and accordingly entered the vaults, pretending to be Protestant
clergymen from Geneva, in company with a large party of visitors,
composed mostly of Englishmen and Americans. When they had reached the
last cabinet, and while one of them was making particular inquiries of
the custodian, and attracting the attention of the party by his large
fund of information (he spoke English with remarkable facility), his
companion contrived to hide himself in something closely resembling
a bale, the material for which he had concealed upon his person. A
quarter of an hour after, one of the supposed-to-be clergymen was
missed, and his disappearance was explained by the positive statement
of his confederate that he had returned to his hotel while they
were in the third apartment, having an engagement that demanded his
presence. A number of the visitors thought they had seen him a
few minutes before; but the disguised Pole was so positive in his
declaration, that they naturally fancied themselves mistaken.
[Sidenote: CAUGHT IN THE VAULTS.]
The party at last went out, and late that night the concealed villain,
who was prepared with matches and a dark lantern, crept out of his
spurious bale, and, with instruments provided beforehand, got into the
cases, cut the wires, and secured many of the most precious diamonds.
He then attempted to get out of the vaults, but, to his astonishment
and consternation, they were too strong for him. The partner of his
guilt was at his appointed post on the outside, and waited in vain
until daylight for the robber who was to come forth at a stated hour
with his treasures. The other Pole had secured his great wealth; but,
by a strange shortsightedness not uncommon to villains of his class,
he had not calculated closely enough upon the means of getting away
with it. Finding that the vaults were his prison, he tried to put
the jewels back in such a shape that their displacement would not be
noticed, and then crept once more into his bale. The custodian entered
with a number of sight-seers about noon the day following. His quick
eye discovered at once that the diamonds had been tampered with, and
this fact, taken in connection with the mysterious disappearance of
the previous day, confirmed him in the belief that a robbery had been
attempted, and that the robber must be hidden in that particular
apartment. Consequently he ordered a guard, and a thorough search
having been made, the thief was soon exposed. The scoundrel, knowing
it would be useless to deny his design, made a full confession
in respect to himself, and was tried and sentenced to prison for
twenty-five years, equivalent to life, for he was at the time of his
capture more than fifty-five. After serving ten years of his sentence,
he made his escape by bribing, as it was supposed, some of the
officials, and not long after was killed in Palermo while attempting
to break into the house of an English resident of the Sicilian city.
About 1798 some twenty Viennese rogues went to Dresden for the express
purpose of robbing the Green Vaults of their most valuable jewels.
Their plan was to undermine the treasury, enter it by night, and make
their egress by the same channel. Their scheme was bold, and might
have prospered, beset as it was with obstacles. Any and all result was
frustrated, however, by the betrayal of the gang by one of its number,
tempted by the hope of a liberal reward for his treachery. He was, it
is asserted, handsomely paid, and the information which he furnished
caused the arrest of three of the conspirators; the rest leaving the
city suddenly, and placing themselves beyond the reach of the law. Two
of the miscreants were sent to prison, and the third, who was a native
Greek, and reported to have been for some years a brigand, cheated
justice by poisoning himself in his cell.
[Sidenote: MAN ENCLOSED IN A WALL.]
About fifty years ago, as the story is told in Dresden, certain
changes were made in the Green Vaults, involving the laying of a
new interior wall of brick. This intended addition having become
generally known, an enterprising rogue in the city conceived a plan
of robbing the treasury by concealing himself in a part of the wall
then unfinished; designing to get out at night, after the workmen had
gone away, and carry off whatever was lightest and of most value. He
did succeed in concealing himself, as he had wished; but unfortunately
for him, the masons worked more rapidly than he had supposed they
would, and enclosed him completely. Whether he knew at the time what
would happen, and was afraid of revealing his presence, or whether
he was totally ignorant of the peril of his situation, will forever
remain unknown. As may be imagined, the thief, being, like other
mortals, unable to live without air, soon succumbed to his peculiar
surroundings, though his fate was a secret for years after.
New improvements, then making, caused the removal of the brick wall,
and within it the perfect skeleton of a man was discovered. Great and
exciting was the mystery at first; but diligent inquiry, and vivid
recalling of the date when the work was done, solved the enigma by
establishing a connection between the finding of the skeleton and
the disappearance of a certain notorious criminal. The skeleton of
the thief was put together, and for some time occupied a conspicuous
position in the vaults, as a warning to all inclined to follow his
example. But it served as an example instead, as was shown by the
fact that several attempts at robbery were made there within six
months after the grim exposure. The skeleton was then removed from
the vaults, and as is popularly supposed, has been transferred in a
multiplied form to the private closets of the Dresdeners.
Not a great while ago, a story was started to the effect that the
principal diamonds in the Green Vaults had been stolen by some of the
officials of the court, and replaced with counterfeit stones. This
report obtained wide currency, and was generally believed among the
common people. It may be inferred that there was no basis whatever for
the tale, as any one who is a judge of jewels may easily determine
for himself. If it were possible to make such excellent counterfeits
of diamonds as are those now at Dresden, genuine gems would certainly
lose much of their value, since there would be no method of
distinguishing between the real and spurious.
The contents of the Green Vaults have for generations been a source of
anxiety to the Saxon princes. Again and again, during the troublous
times in Germany, they have been compelled to carry their treasures
to the mountains in the region along the Elbe, known as the Saxon
Switzerland, and to keep them there for security until the peril of
plunder had passed. This sudden transportation of the royal valuables
was very frequent during the Seven Years’ War, and it is reported that
many of them were lost in the haste and excitement attending their
removal.
[Sidenote: THE GREEN VAULTS A TEMPTATION.]
The Green Vaults offer a constant temptation to the rogues of the
old world, and it would not be at all surprising if some man or men,
possessed of a rare genius for pilfering, should yet accomplish
what has so frequently failed. Robbery and burglary are so much a
profession nowadays, and so much real talent is employed in their
behalf, that those who have been graduated in the calling will be
inconsiderate of their own interest if they do not some time perfect
a scheme which will result in plundering the greatest and richest
treasury on the globe.
[Sidenote: CHANCE FOR A BURGLAR.]
A rich reward awaits any one who will enter the Green Vaults of
Dresden and carry away their treasures, or so much of them as could
be easily carried by one man. Possibly an American or English burglar
will yet be found who can succeed in this daring enterprise.
XXI.
THE CATACOMBS OF PARIS.
THE FAIR CAPITAL UNDERMINED.—HISTORY OF THE VAST GRAVEYARD.—SIX
MILLIONS OF SKELETONS.—A JOURNEY THROUGH THE CITY OF THE
DEAD.—HORRIBLE SENSATIONS OF BEING LOST THERE.—GHASTLY DISPLAY OF
SKULLS AND BONES.—TRAGIC AND COMIC INCIDENTS.—TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE
IN THE MIGHTY CHARNEL-HOUSE.—SCENES NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.
Few persons think, while strolling through the fashionable streets
of Paris, and seeking pleasure in its charming precincts, that they
are wandering over a vast graveyard, and that only a thin crust of
earth separates them from the burial-place of six millions of human
beings. Down there lie the remains of a third as many people as the
entire French capital contains. A large part of the beautiful city is
undermined by vaults, and these vaults, which are the famous Catacombs
of Paris, contain the dead of centuries.
The Catacombs of Paris are not used, like the Catacombs of ancient
Thebes, Rome, and Naples, as places of original sepulture; for they
were once quarries from which the stone employed in building the
city was taken. The quarries were beneath the southern part of the
town, directly below the Observatory, the Luxembourg, the Odéon, the
Pantheon, and many of the well-known streets, such as St. Jacques,
La Harpe, Tournou, Vaugirard, and others. Their extent is estimated
to be about three millions of square yards; and long before they
were cemeteries, they served as refuge and shelter for thieves,
incendiaries, assassins, and all the desperate criminals who for
many centuries abounded in the city. It is only a little more than a
hundred years since Paris has been orderly, or in any sense secure.
During the middle ages, and down to the latter half of the past
century, property and life were extremely unsafe. Ruffians stalked
abroad by day as well as by night, and bade defiance to law and its
guardians. In those times the quarries shielded many of the greatest
villains in the capital. After committing robbery, arson, or murder,
they fled into those excavations, and the men whose duty it was to
arrest them were afraid to follow where they would certainly have
been massacred. Many are the stories told of policemen and soldiers
meeting their death in the subterranean vaults at the hands of the
malefactors they were pursuing. These were so familiar with all the
recesses and windings of the quarries that they could not only escape,
but they could lie in ambush, and fall upon the officers of the law
with terrible vengeance. So numerous were the murders committed in
the quarries by ruffians of the olden time, that finally none of the
king’s minions could be found bold enough to venture into those abodes
of mystery, darkness, and crime.
[Sidenote: RESORTS OF THIEVES.]
In 1784 some part of the quarries was broken through from above, and
as there was imminent danger of the houses in the streets falling into
ruin from similar accidents, a number of the most skilful engineers
were ordered by the government to descend into the quarries, make a
careful investigation, and render them in future altogether secure.
While so engaged, M. Lenoir, lieutenant general of the police,
conceived the idea of removing to the vaults the remains that had been
buried in the cemetery of the Innocents, then standing on the present
site of the Halles Centrales, the principal market of the city.
Other graveyards within the municipal limits needed to be emptied,
and it was determined that the contents of these graves should also
be transferred to the subterranean region; so, on the 7th of April,
1786, a formal consecration of the Catacombs as a place of burial took
place with imposing religious rites and ceremonies. The human bones
were borne from the graves at night in funeral cars, accompanied by
priests decked in their sacerdotal robes, carrying torches, swinging
censers, and chanting the Roman Catholic service for the dead, and on
arriving at the depository were hurled down a shaft in magnificently
miscellaneous confusion. Such a democratic mixture, osseously
speaking, of saints and sinners, princes and peasants, reformers and
robbers, bishops and beggars, poets and pickpockets, grand ladies
and grisettes, coquettes and cocottes, was never before made on the
banks of the Seine. This superb disorder remains to the present day,
so far as rank and caste are concerned. The skull of a pious prelate
rests upon the ribs of a desperate cutthroat, and the thigh-bone of a
once renowned beauty of the Faubourg St. Germain touches the grinning
teeth of a vulgar conscript shot for desertion. The skeleton arms of a
dainty poet are interlocked with those of a hideous hag who poisoned
her father and mother in the Rue de la Croix Rouge.
[Sidenote: A BONY CONFUSION.]
If the opinion be well founded, that on the day of judgment the
dead will arise in their proper persons, the unfortunates buried in
the Catacombs of Paris will find it an extremely arduous task to
collect themselves together. One might imagine, in such a universal
resumption of long-cast-off and worn-out fleshly garments, that some
nondescript individual might appear on the awful scene with the head
of a marquis on the trunk of a rag-picker, borne along by the legs
of a ballet dancer, and a cripple gesticulating to the angelic host
with the right arm of a cardinal and the left arm of a lorette. It
has long been a theological problem whether, on that solemn occasion,
the dead will recognize each other; but it will be a matter of even
more serious moment to them whether many of the Parisians will be
able, so strangely will they be made up, to recognize themselves. That
there will be a rattling among the dry bones no one who has entered
the Catacombs can doubt, and that much of the rattling will arise
from Monsieur Bonjour’s effort to make a complete conjunction with
his remains, and from Madame Beaujoli’s endeavor to hunt herself up,
must be plain to everybody. Some of these anticipated troubles may
be partially obviated, however, by the fact that the bones from one
cemetery have been kept apart from the bones of another; and as this
predicted resurrection is not likely to occur for some time, we need
not concern ourselves in regard to the hypothetical awkwardness and
inconveniences of so distant a future.
[Sidenote: ENTERING THE CATACOMBS.]