ESTABLISHMENTS FOR PUBLIC INSTRUCTIONS.
THE MILITARY SCHOOL. THE CHAMPS DE MARS.
THE GOBELIN MANUFACTORY.
THE HÔTEL DE VILLE AND THE GARDE MEUBLE
In old France there were more universities, colleges and public schools
than in any other part of the world. All these were overthrown by the
Jacobin Revolution, and the funds allotted to their support squandered
on the adventurers who figured and still figure on the theatre of the
French Republic.
To this hour there is no general plan of education in the country.
There are only three central schools in Paris, and their organisation
is essentially defective.
Abstract sciences and history fill up the whole course of education
until the pupil is eighteen years of age.
Geography is not taught; there is no professor of foreign languages,
and only one lecturer upon the ancient and classical tongues, who once
a week reads aloud a discourse rather for his own amusement than for
the advantage of his pupils.
In consequence of these arrangements the understanding of the scholar
is never exercised. To teach the abstract sciences to boys merely
by reading dissertations to them is much the same as to attempt the
demonstration of a problem by Euclid without pen, ink or paper.
These central schools therefore are no manner of use, they only serve
as a parade of useless erudition on the part of the professor, and
nurse consummate ignorance and vanity in the students who attend them.
However, when the pupils have somehow or other gone through their
classes, they are removed to the Polytechnic school, which is the
Parisian University.
About 400 boys are here finishing at this Polytechnic school,
laboratories, mechanical workshops and philosophical apparatus are
provided for the use of the pupils.
If a young person is ambitious of acquiring the elements of science,
he must work at home and pay his own masters, for the central schools
cannot possibly render him any useful assistance. When he has
educated himself he may possibly derive some advantage from attending
the lectures of certain Professors. They are the following. In the
Geographical School, the science of geography is well taught, but
only twenty pupils are admitted to this establishment. The School of
Roads and Bridges is also a very useful institution. It was founded
by M. Prony[1] during the Monarchy, thirty-six Polytechnicians are
received into this school. The School of Naval Architecture is also an
institution of the old Monarchy. The School of Medicine contains 1000
students, twenty professors, a modeller in wax and a designer. There
is a school of pharmacy, a mineral school and a veterinary school at
Alfort near Charenton.
But the most important college still remaining is the “Collège de
France,” Place de Cambrai, which has survived the storms of the
Revolution and retains its ancient reputation. It has seventeen
professors, who are all men of the greatest merit and celebrity in the
Republic of letters.
[Sidenote: CHAMP DE MARS]
Lalande, perhaps the ablest astronomer in Europe, is the professor of
astronomy; la Croix, a profound geometrician, professor of mathematics;
and my estimable and revered friend, de la Metherie, professor of
natural history.
These different colleges are supported entirely at the expense of the
State; the professors are paid out of the public revenues, and students
of all ages and countries permitted to consult and attend their
lectures free of any expense.
But these establishments are not in the least suitable for those who
have not long overstepped the boundaries of elementary knowledge, and
they are beyond the reach of juvenile or vulgar understandings.
The Ecole Militaire, erected in 1751, after the designs of Gabriel, did
not suffer as a building during the Revolution, because it was used as
a barrack for the troops of the Convention.
It is now converted into a barrack for the Consular Horse Guards
commanded by Eugène Beauharnais.
We were permitted to walk round the piazzas that encircle the court,
beneath which soldiers were sleeping in groups. So solemn a silence
reigned through the building we might have fancied ourselves in a
Benedictine monastery.
The Champs de Mars is by many people mistaken for a Campus Martius, but
the origin of its designation is taken from the fact that this spot was
in early ages used for the holding of those assemblies of the people
which were precursors of the more modern Parliaments. As these meetings
were usually held in the month of March, the places where they were
held were termed the Fields of March. This great enclosure is now one
of the dullest and least frequented spots in Paris. Formerly the Altar
of Federation stood in its centre, but that, with every other ornament
of the Revolution, is now levelled with the ground.
But when we reflect upon the many philosophical, conventional and
dictatorial antics which have been exhibited and practised here within
the last decade, it is worth the trouble of visiting this place.
All the blasphemous pantomimes which were performed in commemoration of
the sanguinary freaks of the Republic were represented on the Champs de
Mars.
The pencil of David has been often employed on the scenery, and the pen
of Chenier ran with blood as he composed the pæans of Jacobinism.
It was here also that Robespierre, with a lighted torch, set fire
to the altar to the Etre Suprème, while the people shouted “Vive
Robespierre! Vive la Convention!” All this sounds like fiction, and yet
it all took place on this very field.
The manufactory of Gobelins still exists, though its productions past
and present are in no request and have grown out of fashion.
During the Monarchy it was a most thriving and prosperous industry, and
a vast number of workmen were employed there. The different apartments
contain many beautiful tapestries, taken from original paintings by
great French artists, but they find no purchasers.
Nothing can be more exquisite than the colouring and exquisite
workmanship of the articles produced here; a single piece requires
two or three years’ labour. The workmen are not paid more than three
shillings a day for their sedentary and difficult occupation. This is
accounted for by the fact that the Government supports the manufactory,
and that there is no sale whatever for the works.
Fashions are changing constantly, and perhaps the Gobelins may
again have its day. Gilles Gobelins, a celebrated dyer, erected the
manufactory during the reign of Francis I.
[Sidenote: HÔTEL DE VILLE]
The Hôtel de Ville is worthy of a traveller’s attention on account
of its antiquity and its having been the focus of many extraordinary
events. It was built in the middle of the sixteenth century and
contains a great number of apartments. After August 10, 1792, all the
ancient inscriptions and ornaments were taken down and either removed
or destroyed. When the King was brought to Paris from Versailles by the
mob, prepared and hired for that purpose, he was exhibited at one of
the windows to the populace; and Monsieur Bailly, the Mayor, informed
him that it was a fine day, and presented him with the National cockade
instead of a bouquet.
This is the place where Robespierre first took refuge when he had
been outlawed, and in front of it is the lamp iron from which so many
victims have been suspended. Here the red flag, with the inscription
_Citoyens, la patrie est en danger!_ was first unfurled, to serve
as the signal for massacre, and here the guillotine is preserved for
the inspection of the curious.
Twelve years ago the Garde Meuble was one of the principal curiosities
which attracted the attention of foreigners. The apartments were filled
with ancient armoury, national and foreign, rare tapestries, after
the cartoons and designs of Dürer, Lucas of Leyden, Julius Romano,
Raphael, le Brun and Coypel; precious vases, presents from ambassadors,
jewels, pearls, diamonds, and a multitude of other rich and valuable
articles. In the month of September 1792, a band of thieves broke into
the halls and carried off a great quantity of these riches, among other
things the Pitt diamond, the largest belonging to the Crown. However,
there are still some precious antiques remaining, such as the sword
of Henry IV., the spontoon of Paul V., and the polished armour worn
by Francis I. at the Battle of Pavia, with which on the day of the
capture of the Bastille a cobbler of the Faubourg St. Antoine, then on
guard, completely caparisoned himself, to the utter astonishment of
the spectators. The exterior of this vast edifice has not suffered by
the blows of the Revolution. It is not yet decided to what purpose the
Government intend to convert it.