And now we are in Ismalia, our sailing port. Two steamers are
momentarily expected; one bound for Brindisi, the other for Marseilles.
The poor hotel accommodations were emphasized when this avalanche of
people came down upon them. After baggage was identified and there was
no room in the inn for many of us, I selected a sofa in the drawing
room, on which to rest till the signal was given that the "Caledonia"
was in sight. It was not a bed of roses, but many around me had a worse
accommodation; but upon it I became half unconscious from sheer
exhaustion, when a tender hand was laid upon me, and a kind, persuasive
voice whispered in my ear: "Come with me; there is room for you with
us." Almost reluctantly I arose and followed Mrs. Logan, who had,
through her well-known forethought, secured two apartments for herself
and party, the latter having agreed to double up and give me the extra
cot in Mrs. Logan's room. We expected surely the cry would come at
midnight, and we slept with one eye open to sight our steamer's coming.
It was a cold, moonlight night. The desert's glistening sands were on
one side of us, the sparkling waters of Lake Tesmah in the Suez Canal
on the other. There was a bird with a lone, peculiar cry that added
loneliness to the scene, and when the morning light dawned upon us we
were still in Ismalia. A most inhospitable breakfast was served us, and
at nine o'clock came the welcome cry: "Ship ahoy!" The wharf from off
which these steamers anchored was near to the hotel and a procession of
yawning pedestrians was soon on its wending way, followed by innumerable
dragomen, who were still in anticipation of one more backsheesh, and a
crowd of blear-eyed, frowsy Arab children brought up the rear. Breakfast
was awaiting us on the good old ship "Caledonia," and a warm welcome
from Capt. Andrews. My spirits rose, and my traveling friends, Mrs.
Wilbur and her daughter, soon were on deck, taking in the surroundings.
We landed at Port Said about 5:00 p. m. I invested my last piaster in an
olive wood paper cutter. Port Said is said to be the most wicked place
on earth. As I hailed from Chicago I thought perhaps honors were even.
We did not go ashore, but got our steamer chairs in readiness for the
next day, as we were told we would have a choppy sea, and we fully
realized the truth of the prophecy. Our cabins proved the safe retreat,
and there I remained until we reached Brindisi, at 6:00 a. m., February
the 5th. At 5:30 we were called on deck by a visit from the health
officers, as our vessel hailed from an infected district. All bore the
inspection and we soon set sail again and landed in Marseilles the 7th
of February. My baggage was soon O. K.'d, and a cab took me with my
luggage to the hotel. Later in the day I took a drive through the city,
and was much impressed with the growth since a former visit in 1881. Off
the coast of Marseilles is built the famous prison Chateau d'If,
immortalized by the author of Monte Cristo, a fine view of which is seen
from the church of Notre Dame, built on a high rock on the outskirts of
the city. The train for Paris leaves at 9:00 p. m., and after a fair
night's rest, I am in the French custom house, where I have no trouble.
A cab is secured for me and I land safely in time for coffee and rolls
at Madame Therries, where I am expected. A hasty toilet and refreshments
taken, gave me fresh strength, and I soon found my way to Brown &
Shipley, bankers, where I found eight letters from home. I took up one,
the latest date; found from its contents "all were well," and I retraced
my steps to my own apartment, where I spent a most blessed day, reading
and writing letters.
Paris, as it is to-day (1896) strikes a visitor as one of the most
cleanly, most attractive cities in the world with its triumphal arches,
which Napoleon had erected in commemoration of his victories, one of
which, "The Arc de Triomphe," was begun in 1806, although the work was
not completed till 1836, long after the founder and architect had passed
away. This arch is the largest in the world. The arch is ninety feet
high and forty-five feet wide. It is considered too narrow for its
height, and the insignificant ornaments along the top of the structure
destroy all grandeur of outline. You will find "Hare's Walks" your best
guide book for Paris and its surroundings. A year and a half's
researches are herein condensed. I never fail to revisit Versailles,
when the opportunity presents itself. Your early studies in history will
enable you, in later life, after seeing this beautiful architectural
pile, to long for a more extended history. The fountains are only in
full play on the Sabbath day, and throngs of people of all walks in
life, are seen in these grounds and crowd the corridors of historical
paintings. La Madeline, one of the popular churches, resembles a Pagan
temple. Begun by Louis XV (1777) as a church, and finished under Louis
Philippe in 1832, it resembles the Parthenon of the Greeks. You will
hear fine music at the Church of "La Trinita," but the Parthenon is full
of interest. The first church on or near this site was built by Clovis,
and dedicated to St. Genevieve; it was burnt by the Normans and after
numerous changing of owners, it was finally, by the order of Louis XV,
torn down and rebuilt, as a votive offering to St. Genevieve, who he
believed to be his patron saint during his extreme illness. The first
stone of the new church was laid by this king in 1764, and was completed
by the architect, Rondelet, the pupil of the first architect Soufflot
(deceased), in 1780. It is the burial place of illustrious citizens.
Its possession was in a transition state for years; first a church of
God, then a resting place for the immortal dead. At length, in 1885, it
was taken from the worship of God and given Victor Hugo, whose tomb to
the right as you enter is usually the first to be shown. The tombs of
Voltaire and Rousseau are empty, having been pillaged during the
revolution. Pere La Chaise and Montmartre are cemeteries where familiar
names are recorded on tombstones and mausoleums. In the former lie
Abelard and Heloise, the tragedienne Rachel, and the open sarcophagus
ready for the remains of Sarah Bernhardt, when she, too, shall lay off
this mortal coil. There are in Pere La Chaise, and in Montmartre, many
musical celebrities. While I was there, in April or May (1896), Ambrose
Thomas' funeral cortege solemnly wended its way from La Trinita to this
field of tombs. The funeral dress of the Frenchman is what we term full
evening dress. The bier or catafalque is clothed in black broadcloth,
embroidered in silver. The floral offerings are piled upon it; colossal
wreaths of violets and immortelles, strung on wire, are emblematic in
their designs. No music on that lonely march on foot but the quiet tread
beats a requiem for the dead.
Fine views are obtained from the galleries of the Trocadero. In the same
vicinity is the "Palais d'Industrie," which was used in 1852-55 for the
great exposition, and will be utilized again in 1900 for another fair.
The shops of Paris are small; the windows seemingly contain most of the
stock. We must except those great magazines, the "Louvre" and the "Bon
Marche."
"The Musee de Luxembourg, by the order of Louis XVIII, contains only
such works of living artists as were acquired by the state. The works of
each artist are removed to the galleries of the Louvre ten years after
his death; the pictures are constantly changing. The walks in the Garden
of the Luxembourg are the best types of ancient palace pleasance. They
are considered the pleasantest spots in Paris. The character of the
Louvre has changed from a fortress or a state prison (1367) to a picture
gallery. It was the great dungeon tower in the center of this palace, or
castle, called the Louvre, that the great feudataires came to take or
renew the feudal oaths; it was there the great ceremonies took place.
The Louvre was enlarged by Charles V, who added many towers and
surrounded it with a moat, which was supplied from the Seine. He made a
palace into a complete rectangular, always preserving the great central
dungeon tower. Francis I destroyed this tower (1527). It took five
months to do this, as it was as strong as the day it was built. It was
regretted by the populace, because they lost the pleasure of seeing
great lords imprisoned there. The existing palace was begun under Pierre
Lescot in 1541. During Henry II's reign of twelve years, Lescot
continued his work. After Henry II's death his widow, Catherine de
Medici, came with her children to live in the new palace. Henry IV
united the buildings that Catherine de Medici had built with those she
had previously built, which, under the name of Tuilleries, were still
outside the limits of the town. And from this time no one touched the
Louvre till Richelieu demolished all that remained of the feudal
buildings and used only in rebuilding the existing wings as the half of
his facade of his new Louvre, and built two others on the same plan to
make the building a perfect square.
"While the minority of Louis XIV lasted, Anne of Austria lived with her
children in the Palais Cardinal, now Palais Royal, and even while the
work was going on at the Louvre, apartments were given to the exiled
Henrietta Maria of England, daughter of Henry IV, who met with most
generous treatment from her sister-in-law. Little more was done toward
improving the Louvre through the reigns of Louis XV and XVI, and then
came the revolution (1848). Napoleon III determined, as he was in power,
to unite the Tuilleries and Louvre into one great whole. This was
carried out and accomplished in 1857."
During my visits to Paris (1881 and 1896) the repairs to the central
facade of the Tuilleries had not been made. This unmeaning, desolate
space presents to the mind the ruthless hand of war in the conflict of
man's ambition for supremacy. Before the revolution of 1876, historians
tell us that between the beautiful chestnut avenues, across the
brilliant flowers and quaint orange trees of the garden, beyond the
sparkling glory of the fountains, rose the majestic facade of a palace,
infinitely harmonious in color, indescribably picturesque and noble in
form, and interesting beyond description from its associations, the one
spot to be visited by strangers, which attracted the sympathies of the
world.
We see the Arc de Triomphe du Carousal, built in 1806, by Fontaine, for
Napoleon I. The car and horses are a reproduction of the famous group on
St. Marks at Venice, which Napoleon captured, but were afterwards
restored by the allies. The street scenes of Paris are most
entertaining, but to enjoy it in its perfection, go when you are young,
before your muscles grow stiff and your eyes dim, for the "run for your
life" requires agility and good vision.