hill-side, looking toward the city. Numerous gravel-walks, winding
through shady avenues and between marble monuments, lead up from the
principal entrance to a chapel on the summit. There is hardly a grave
that has not its little inclosure planted with shrubbery; and a thick
mass of foliage half conceals each funeral stone. The sighing of the
wind, as the branches rise and fall upon it,--the occasional note of a
bird among the trees, and the shifting of light and shade upon the
tombs beneath, have a soothing effect upon the mind; and I doubt
whether any one can enter that inclosure, where repose the dust and
ashes of so many great and good men, without feeling the religion of
the place steal over him, and seeing something of the dark and gloomy
expression pass off from the stern countenance of death.
It was near the close of a bright summer afternoon that I visited this
celebrated spot for the first time. The object that arrested my
attention, on entering, was a monument in the form of a small Gothic
chapel, which stands near the entrance, in the avenue leading to the
right hand. On the marble couch within are stretched two figures,
carved in stone and drest in the antique garb of the Middle Ages. It is
the tomb of Abélard and Héloïse. The history of these unfortunate
lovers is too well known to need recapitulation; but perhaps it is not
so well known how often their ashes were disturbed in the slumber of
the grave. Abélard died in the monastery of Saint Marcel, and was
buried in the vaults of the church. His body was afterward removed to
the convent of the Paraclet, at the request of Héloïse, and at her
death her body was deposited in the same tomb. Three centuries they
reposed together; after which they were separated to different sides of
the church, to calm the delicate scruples of the lady-abbess of the
convent. More than a century afterward, they were again united in the
same tomb; and when at length the Paraclet was destroyed, their
moldering remains were transported to the church of Nogent-sur-Seine.
They were next deposited in an ancient cloister at Paris; and now
repose near the gateway of the cemetery of Père la Chaise. What a
singular destiny was theirs! that, after a life of such passionate and
disastrous love,--such sorrows, and tears, and penitence--their very
dust should not be suffered to rest quietly in the grave!--that their
death should so much resemble their life in its changes and
vicissitudes, its partings and its meetings, its inquietudes and its
persecutions!--that mistaken zeal should follow them down to the very
tomb--as if earthly passion could glimmer, like a funeral lamp, amid
the damps of the charnel-house, and "even in their ashes bum their
wonted fires!"....
Leaving this interesting tomb behind me, I took a pathway to the left,
which conducted me up the hill-side. I soon found myself in the deep
shade of heavy foliage, where the branches of the yew and willow
mingled, interwoven with the tendrils and blossoms of the honeysuckle.
I now stood in the most populous part of this city of tombs. Every step
awakened a new train of thrilling recollections; for at every step my
eye caught the name of some one whose glory had exalted the character
of his native land, and resounded across the waters of the Atlantic.
Philosophers, historians, musicians, warriors, and poets slept side by
side around me; some beneath the gorgeous monument, and some beneath
the simple headstone. But the political intrigue, the dream of science,
the historical research, the ravishing harmony of sound, the tried
courage, the inspiration of the lyre--where are they? With the living,
and not with the dead! The right hand has lost its cunning in the
grave; but the soul, whose high volitions it obeyed, still lives to
reproduce itself in ages yet to come.
Among these graves of genius I observed here and there a splendid
monument, which had been raised by the pride of family over the dust of
men who could lay no claim either to the gratitude or remembrances of
posterity. Their presence seemed like an intrusion into the sanctuary
of genius. What had wealth to do there? Why should it crowd the dust of
the great? That was no thoroughfare of business--no mart of gain! There
were no costly banquets there; no silken garments, nor gaudy liveries,
nor obsequious attendants!....
I continued my walk through the numerous winding paths, as chance or
curiosity directed me. Now I was lost in a little green hollow,
overhung with thick-leaved shrubbery, and then came out upon an
elevation, from which, through an opening in the trees, the eye caught
glimpses of the city, and the little esplanade, at the foot of the
hill, where the poor lie buried. There poverty hires its grave, and
takes but a short lease of the narrow house. At the end of a few
months, or at most of a few years, the tenant is dislodged to give
place to another, and he in turn to a third. "Who," says Sir Thomas
Browne, "knows the fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried?
Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?"
Yet, even in that neglected corner, the hand of affection had been busy
in decorating the hired house. Most of the graves were surrounded with
a slight wooden paling, to secure them from the passing footstep; there
was hardly one so deserted as not to be marked with its little wooden
cross, and decorated with a garland of flowers; and here and there I
could perceive a solitary mourner, clothed in black, stooping to plant
a shrub on the grave, or sitting in motionless sorrow beside it....
After rambling leisurely about for some time, reading the iscriptions
on the various monuments which attracted my curiosity, and giving way
to the different reflections they suggested, I sat down to rest myself
on a sunken tombstone. A winding gravel-walk, overshaded by an avenue
of trees, and lined on both sides with richly sculptured monuments, had
gradually conducted me to the summit of the hill, upon whose slope the
cemetery stands. Beneath me in the distance, and dim-discovered through
the misty and smoky atmosphere of evening, rose the countless roofs and
spires of the city. Beyond, throwing his level rays athwart the dusky
landscape, sank the broad red sun. The distant murmur of the city rose
upon my ear; and the toll of the evening bell came up, mingled with the
rattle of the paved street and the confused sounds of labor. What an
hour for meditation! What a contrast between the metropolis of the
living and the metropolis of the dead!....
Before I left the graveyard the shades of evening had fallen, and the
objects around me grown dim and indistinct. As I passed the gateway, I
turned to take a parting look. I could distinguish only the chapel on
the summit of the hill, and here and there a lofty obelisk of
snow-white marble, rising from the black and heavy mass of foliage
around, and pointing upward to the gleam of the departed sun, that
still lingered in the sky, and mingled with the soft starlight of a
summer evening.
The Musée de Cluny
By Grant Allen
[Footnote: From "Paris."]
The primitive nucleus of the suburb on the South Side consists of the
Roman fortress palace, the "tête du pont" of the Left Bank, now known
as the Thermes, owing to the fact that its principal existing remains
include only the ruins of the bath or therma. This colossal building,
probably erected by Constantius Chlorus, the father of Constantine,
covered an enormous area south of the river. After the Frankish
conquest, it still remained the residence of the Merwing and Karling
kings on the rare occasions when they visited Paris; and it does not
seem to have fallen into utter decay till a comparatively late date in
the Middle Ages.
With the Norman irruptions, however, and the rise of the real French
monarchs under Eudes and the Capets, the new sovereigns found it safest
to transfer their seat to the Palace on the Island (now the Palais de
Justice), and the Roman fortress was gradually dismantled. In 1340 the
gigantic ruins came into the hands of the powerful Benedictine Abbey of
Cluny, near Mâcon, in Burgundy; and about 1480, the abbots began to
erect on the spot a town mansion for themselves, which still bears the
name of the Hôtel de Cluny. The letter K, the mark of Charles VIII.
(1483-1498), occurs on many parts of the existing building, and fixes
its epoch. The house was mostly built by Jaques d'Amboise, abbot, in
1490. The style is late Gothic, with Renaissance features.
The abbots, however, seldom visited Paris, and they frequently placed
their town house accordingly at the disposition of the kings of France.
Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII., and widow of Louis XII.,
occupied it thus in 1515, soon after its completion. It was usual for
the queens of France to wear white as mourning; hence her apartment is
still known as the "Chambre de la reine blanche."
At the Revolution, when the property of the monasteries was
confiscated, the Hôtel de Cluny was sold, and passed at last, in 1833,
into the hands of M. du Sommerard, a zealous antiquary, who began the
priceless collection of works of art which it contains. He died in
1842, and the Government then bought the house and museum, and united
it with the Roman ruin at its back under the title of Musée des Thermes
et de l'Hôtel de Cluny. Since that time many further objects have been
added to the collection.
At Cluny the actual building forms one of the most interesting parts of
the sight, and is in itself a museum. It is a charming specimen of a
late medieval French mansion; and the works of art it contains are of
the highest artistic value.... At least two whole days should be
devoted to Cluny--one to the lower and one to the upper floor. Much
more, if possible.
The Place de la Bastille
By Augustus J. C. Hare
[Footnote: From "Walks in Paris." By arrangement with the publisher,
David McKay. Copyright, 1880.]
The south end of the Rue des Tournelles falls into the Place de la
Bastille, containing Le Colonne de Juillet, surmounted by a statue of
Liberty, and erected 1831-1840. This marks the site of the famous
castle-prison of the Bastille, which for four centuries and a half
terrified Paris, and which has left a name to the quarter it frowned
upon. Hugues Ambriot, Mayor of Paris, built it under Charles V. to
defend the suburb which contained the royal palace of St. Paul.
Unpopular from the excess of his devotion to his royal master, Aubriot
was the first prisoner in his own prison.
Perhaps the most celebrated of the long list of after captives were the
Connétable de St. Pol and Jacques d'Armagnac, Due de Nemours, taken
thence for execution to the Place de Grève under Louis XI., Charles de
Gontaut, Due de Biron, executed within the walls of the fortress under
Henri IV., and the "Man with the Iron Mask," brought hither
mysteriously, September 18, 1698, and who died in the Bastille,
November 19, 1703.
A thousand engravings show us the Bastille as it was--as a
"fort-bastide"--built on the line of the city walls just to the south
of the Porte St. Antoine, surrounded by its own moat. It consisted of
eight round towers, each bearing a characteristic name, connected by
massive walls, ten feet thick, pierced with narrow slits by which the
cells were lighted. In the early times it had entrances on three sides,
but after 1580 only one, with a drawbridge over the moat on the side
toward the river, which led to outer courts and a second drawbridge,
and wound by a defended passage to an outer entrance opposite the Rue
des Tournelles.
Close beside the Bastille, to the north, rose the Porte St. Antoine,
approached over the city fosse by its own bridge, at the outer end of
which was a triumphal arch built on the return of Henri II. from Poland
in 1573. Both gate and arch were restored for the triumphal entry of
Louis XIV. in 1667; but the gate (before which Etienne Marcel was
killed, July, 1358), was pulled down in 1674.
The Bastille was taken by the people, July 14, 1789, and the National
Assembly decreed its demolition.... The massive circular pedestal upon
which the Colonne de Juillet now rests was intended by Napoleon I. to
support a gigantic fountain in the form of an elephant, instead of the
column which, after the destruction of the Bastille, the "tiers état"
of Paris had asked to erect "à Louis XVI., restaurateur de la liberté
publique." It is characteristic of the Parisians that on the very same
spot the throne of Louis Philippe was publicly burned, February 24,
1848. The model for the intended elephant existed here till the middle
of the reign of Louis Philippe, and is depicted by Victor Hugo as the
lodging of "Le petit Gavroche."
The Panthéon and St. Etienne-Du-Mont
By Grant Allen
[Footnote: From "Paris."]
The medieval church of Ste. Geneviève, having fallen into decay in the
middle of the eighteenth century, Louis XV. determined to replace it by
a sumptuous domed edifice in the style of the period. This building,
designed by Soufflot, was not completed till the Revolution, when it
was immediately secularized as the Panthéon, under circumstances to be
mentioned later. The remains of Ste. Geneviève, which had lain
temporarily meanwhile in a sumptuous chapel of St. Étienne-du-Mont (the
subsidiary church of the monastery) were taken out by the
Revolutionists; the medieval shrine, or reliquary (which replaced St.
Éloy's), was ruthlessly broken up; and the body of the patroness and
preserver of Paris was publicly burned in the Place de Grève.
This, however, strange to say, was not quite the end of Ste. Geneviève.
A few of her relics were said to have been preserved: some bones,
together with a lock of the holy shepherdess's hair, were afterward
recovered, and replaced in the sarcophagus they had once occupied. Such
at least is the official story; and these relics, now once more
enclosed in a costly shrine, still attract thousands of votaries to the
chapel of the saint in St. Étienne-du-Mont.
The Panthéon, standing in front of the original church, is now a
secular burial-place for the great men of France. The remains of Ste.
Geneviève still repose at St. Étienne. Thus it is impossible to
dissociate the two buildings, which should be visited together; and
thus too it happens that the patroness of Paris has now no church in
her own city. Local saints are always the most important; this hill and
Montmartre are still the holiest places in Paris.
Proceed, as far as the garden of the Thermes, as on the excursion to
Cluny. Then continue straight up the Boulevard St. Michel. The large
edifice visible on the right of the Rue des Écoles to your left, is the
new building of the Sorbonne, or University. Further up, at the Place
du Sorbonne, the domed church of the same name stands before you. It is
the University church, and is noticeable as the earliest true dome
erected in Paris. The next corner shows one, right, the Luxembourg
garden, and left, the Rue Soufflot, leading up to the Panthéon.
The colossal domed temple which replaces the ancient church of Ste.
Geneviève was begun by Soufflot, under Louis XV., in imitation of St.
Peter's, at Rome. Like all architects of his time, Soufflot sought
merely to produce an effect of pagan or "classical" grandeur,
peculiarly out of place in the shrine of the shepherdess of Nanterre.
Secularized almost immediately on its completion, during the
Revolution, the building was destined as the national monument to the
great men of France, and the inscription, "Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie
Reconnaissante," which it still bears, was then first placed under the
sculptures of the pediment.
Restored to worship by the Restoration, it was again secularized under
the Third Republic in order to admit the burial of Victor Hugo. The
building itself, a vast bare barn of the pseudo-classical type, very
cold and formal, is worthy of notice merely on account of its immense
size and its historic position; but it may be visited to this day with
pleasure, not only for some noble modern paintings, but also for the
sake of the reminiscences of Ste. Geneviève which it still contains.
The tympanum has a group by David d'Angers, representing France
distributing wreaths to soldiers, politicians, men of letters, men of
science, and artists.
The interior is in the shape of a Greek cross (with equal arms). Follow
round the walls, beginning from the right. In the right aisle are
paintings (modern) looking like frescoes, and representing the
preaching of St. Denis, by Galand; and the history of Ste.
Geneviève--her childhood, recognition by St. Germain l'Auxerrois,
miracles, etc., delicate and elusive works, by Puvis de Chavannes. The
paintings of the South Transept represent episodes in the early history
of France. Chronologically speaking, they begin from the east central
corner. Choir, Death of Ste. Geneviève, and Miracles before her Shrine,
by Laurens. Apse of the tribune, fine modern (archaic) mosaic, by
Hébert, representing Christ with the Guardian Angel of France, the
Madonna, Jean d'Arc, and Ste. Geneviève. Stand under the dome to
observe the proportions of the huge, bare, unimpressive building. Left,
or Northern Transept, east side, the history of Jeanne d'Arc; she hears
the voices; leads the assault at Orleans; assists at the coronation of
Charles VII. at Rheims; and is burned at Rouen. West side, St. Louis as
a child instructed by Blanche of Castille; administering justice in the
Palace; and a captive among the Saracens. North aisle, history of Ste.
Geneviève and St. Denis. The building is thus at once the apotheosis of
patriotism, and the lasting memorial of the part borne by Christianity
in French, and especially Parisian, history.
As you descend the steps of the Panthéon, the building that faces you
to the left is the Mairie of the 5th Arrondissement; that to the right,
the École de Droit. Turn to the right along the north side of the
Panthéon. The long, low building which faces you is the Bibliotheque
Ste. Geneviève. Nothing now remains of the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève
except the tall early Gothic tower seen to the right near the end of
the Panthéon, and rising above the modern buildings of the Lycée Henri
IV. The singularly picturesque and strangely-mingled church across the
little square is St. Étienne-du-Mont, which we now proceed to visit.
Stand in the left-hand corner of the Place to examine the facade. The
church was begun (1517) as late Gothic; but before it was finished, the
Renaissance style had come into fashion, and the architects accordingly
jumbled the two in the most charming manner. The incongruity here only
adds to the beauty. The quaintly original Renaissance portal bears a
dedication to St. Stephen the Protomartyr, beneath which is a relief of
his martyrdom, with a Latin inscription, "Stone destroyed the temple of
the Lord," i.e., Stephen, "Stone rebuilds it." Right and left of the
portal are statues of Sts. Stephen and Geneviève, whose monograms also
appear on the doors. In the pediment is the usual representation of the
Resurrection and Last Judgment. Above it, the rose window, on either
side of which, in accordance with Italian rather than with French
custom (showing Italian Renaissance influence) are the Angel of the
Annunciation and the Madonna receiving his message. In the third story,
a gable-end. Singular tower to the left, with an additional round
turret, a relic of the earlier Gothic building. The whole façade (17th
century) represents rather late Renaissance than transitional
architecture.
The interior is the most singular, and in some ways the most
picturesque, in Paris--a Gothic church, tricked out in Renaissance
finery. The nave is flanked by aisles, which are divided from it by
round pillars, capped by a singular balustrade or gallery with low,
flat arches, simulating a triforium. The upper arches are round, and
the decorations Renaissance; but the vaulting, both of nave and aisles,
with its pendant keystones, recalls the Gothic style, as do also most
of the windows. Stand near the entrance, in the center of the nave, and
look up the church.
The most striking feature is the beautiful Renaissance jubé or
rood-loft (the only one now left in Paris) which divides the Choir from
the body of the building. This rood-loft still bears a crucifix, for
the reception of which it was originally intended. On the arch below
are two charmingly sculptured Renaissance angels. The rood-loft is
flanked by two spiral staircases, which are wholly unique architectural
features. Notice also the exquisite pendentive of the roof at the point
of intersection of the nave and short false transepts.
Now walk up the right aisle. The first chapel is the Baptistery,
containing the font and a modern statue of the boy Baptist. Third
chapel, St. Antony of Padua. The fourth chapel contains a curious Holy
Sepulcher, with quaint life-size terra-cotta figures of the 16th
century. Fifth chapel, a gilt châsse. Notice the transepts, reduced to
short arms, scarcely, if at all, projecting beyond the chapels. From
this point examine the exquisite Renaissance tracery of the rood-screen
and staircases. Then pass under the fine Renaissance door, with lovely
decorative work, into the ambulatory. The Choir is in large part
Gothic, with late flamboyant tracery. The apparent triforium is
continued round the ambulatory.
The splendid gilded shrine in the second choir-chapel contains the
remains of Ste. Geneviève, or what is left of them. Candles burn
perpetually around it. Hundreds of votaries here pay their devotions
daily to the Patroness of Paris. The shrine, containing what is alleged
to be the original sarcophagus of the Saint (more probably of the 13th
century) stands under a richly-gilt Gothic tabernacle, adorned with
figures legibly named on their pedestals. The stained-glass window
behind it has a representation of a processional function with the body
of the Saint, showing this church, together with a view of the original
church of Ste. Geneviève, the remaining tower, and adjacent houses,
historically most interesting. The window beyond the shrine also
contains the history of Ste. Geneviève--her childhood, first communion,
miracles, distribution of bread during the siege of Paris, conversion
of Clovis, death, etc.
Indeed the long sojourn of the body of Ste. Geneviève in this church
has almost overshadowed its dedication to St. Stephen, several
memorials of whom may, however, be recognized by the attentive
visitor--among them, a picture of his martyrdom (by Abel de Pujol) near
the entrance to the choir. The Protomartyr also stands, with his
deacon's robe and palm, in a niche near the door of the sacristy, where
left and right are frescoes of his Disputation with the Doctors, and
his Martyrdom. The chapel immediately behind the high altar is, as
usual, the Lady Chapel. The next contains a good modern window of the
Marriage of the Virgin.
Examine in detail all the windows; one of the mystic wine-press is very
interesting. Votive offerings of the city of Paris to Ste. Geneviève
also exist in the ambulatory. Curious frescoes of the martyrdom of the
10,000 Christians on Mount Ararat on the north side. The best view of
the choir is obtained from the north side of the ambulatory, opposite
the shrine of Ste. Geneviève. In the north aisle notice St. Louis with
the Crown of Thorns. Stand again in the center of the nave, near the
entrance, and observe the curious inclination of the choir and high
altar to one side--here particularly noticeable, and said in every case
to represent the droop of the Redeemer's head on the cross.
As you emerge from the door, observe the cold and bare side of the
Panthéon, contrasted with the internal richness of St. Êtienne. Curious
view of the late Gothic portion of the church from the little Place on
the north side. Return by the Rue Cujas and Rue St. Jacques, passing
the Lycée Ste. Barbe, Lycée Louis-le-Grand, University, and other
scholastic buildings, which give a good idea of the character of the
quarter.
St. Roch
By Augustus J. C. Hare
[Footnote: From "Walks in Paris." By arrangement with the publisher,
David McKay. Copyright, 1880.]