du midi. Its sumptuousness is astonishing. If, however, it were not
safer to admire than to criticise in such cases, one might observe how
vast a space is lost in the walls and arrangements of the
interior, the breadth which strikes the eye being only fifty feet,
while the real breadth of the side walls is at least eighty. Its
architecture seems the inversion of that of St. Ouen or Amiens,
inasmuch as it makes the least effect out of the greatest means, while
the other makes the greatest effect out of the least means; all seems
aerial and heaven-pointing in the one style; while the other seems
unable, with its vast bulk, to rise from the earth, and perpetually
crosses the eye with its horizontal lines--faithful images both of the
religions they represent.
We found l'Abbé Ratisbonne at home, and had a long talk with him. I
mentioned to him the objectionable words addressed to the Blessed
Virgin, which I had seen at Montmartre and in the little book; he made
the usual excuse that such things are not done by authority, and also
that the French language was weak, and so, in expressing heavenly
affections, it might so happen that they used words which, in
strictness of speech, were too strong, but the conventional use of
which formed their exculpation. Thus it was common to say of a very
fine picture, 'quel _adorable_ tableau,' and so the word
'infiniment;' but these applied to the Blessed Virgin in strictness of
speech become objectionable. Much therefore must be allowed to the
weakness and indistinctness of human language, on the one hand,
and to the fervour of filial love longing to pour itself forth, on the
other. 'We are children of God,' he said; 'we speak to him as
children, not as wise men; we ask the indulgence given to infants.'
And so again, as respects the Blessed Virgin. He said he had been
converted from Judaism at twenty-three, had seen much of Protestants
before that time, but their prayers and their whole style of thinking
had disgusted him; he had never been at all drawn to them. He had been
a priest ten years, and was now forty-two. We had much talk on the
Anglo-Roman controversy. I said, we thought ourselves Catholics
already, that we had been born and bred in the English Church, which
was to us the portal of that great building of the Catholic Church. He
approved of that metaphor, which served to give him a better notion of
our position than anything else we said, though, like every other
Roman Catholic, he could not admit for a moment that we were in the
Church. He said, a Protestant minister, an optician, had expressed to
him his belief in the efficacy of prayers for the dead, which appeared
to him under this image: it was as if a number of figures were thrown
into the shade, out of the sun's rays; while between them and the sun
are other figures who enjoy his full light: these, like certain
glasses, reflect that light upon the figures in the shade. Thus it is
that the prayers of the blessed especially succour the faithful
dead. He had often used this image in sermons. I pressed him with the
existence of the Greek Church, on the one hand, and the acknowledged
developement of Papal power, on the other; but no Roman Catholic ever
hesitates to excommunicate individual or church which is not _de
facto_ united to the Roman See; unity with them is indeed a first
principle--a sublime and true belief in itself, though perhaps certain
facts may modify the application of it. He said he had thought
continually of us since our visit, and had the greatest esteem for us,
that he had prayed for us daily, as he did for England; that fair
England, if she could be again, as she once was, the Island of
Saints--what a means for the conversion of others! At our parting, he
begged our prayers for himself. I said, if I came again to Paris, I
should hope to be allowed to see him again. Our conversation was so
disjointed that I can remember but little of it, but it turned on the
_offences_ which alienated us from them. He denied repeatedly the
thought of adoring the Blessed Virgin. He had moved his lodgings to
the Rue du Regard, 14., in order to overlook a house and garden
opposite, in which were lodged a female community of converts from
Judaism, over whom he watched. The Supérieure was with him when we
came. He spoke of our silence as to the Blessed Virgin and all saints;
that we made a wall of separation between them and us, whereas
the whole Church was one, vividly affected with the joys and sorrows
of its several members. M. tried to show that, in the present state of
things, silence might conceal very deep and reverential feelings. He
seemed not to think this satisfactory, and in truth it applies only
partially.
We went to the Pantheon; its interior has the coldness and deadness
which naturally belongs to the tombs of those who die without the
Christian's hope. It looks exactly what it is,--the shrine of human
ambition--a vast coffin holding a skeleton. If it were made a church
hereafter, as surely it must be, it might be made to equal the
Madeleine in magnificence. We mounted and enjoyed the fine view: there
is a triple dome,--sufficiently bungling, I think.
We called in at Toulouse's, and while there he discovered that I was
not a Roman Catholic; whereupon he began to persuade me, with the most
affectionate solicitude, that I was in a self-evidently wrong
position. He asked how I justified the schism. 'I don't understand,'
he said, 'how you could be Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman one day, and
wake the next and find yourselves Catholic, Apostolic, and not Roman.'
I answered that we had indubitably the ancient succession; that the
evil passions of men on the one hand, and the extravagant claims of
the Papacy on the other, had caused the separation, which I
deplored. But still I hoped, that, though in an anomalous state, we
had what was strictly necessary to the essence of a Church. I
mentioned, too, the position of the whole Eastern Church. I showed him
the dangerous and extravagant language used towards the Blessed Virgin
in the Psaltery of St. Bonaventure: he could not answer that, and
reserved it to show to a priest; but he maintained that the work was
St. Bonaventure's. I said, 'All that St. Gregory the Great, who sent
St. Augustine into England, claimed for himself; all that St. Leo
demanded, or that St. Athanasius and St. Basil granted to the Holy
See, I am ready to give.' He finished with expressions of kind concern
for us.
_Friday, July 18._--Went to M. Bonnetty, who, with M. D'Alzon, took
us to the Hôtel de Cluny: it is full of curious objects of the Middle
Ages. I remarked one exquisite bit of glass--a pretty chapel--the
remains of the Roman baths. There was something in the air of to-day
which inspired me with such lassitude that I could hardly drag myself
about, so we did very little. After dinner we looked into La Madeleine
and went on to Bishop Luscombe's, where we took tea.
_Saturday, July 19._--A little better to-day. At La Madeleine during
part of a Low Mass; my admiration for this building increases greatly;
it produces much the same effect as St. Peter's, deceiving the
eye by its great proportions. We spent a couple of hours in the
boundless galleries of the Louvre. The long gallery contains few
pictures that I should much desire to possess: save in the last
compartment, and the first room, and none certainly interest me more
than that great picture of the battle of Eylau. Thence we went to M.
L'Abbé Gaduel, 1. Rue Madame, who took us to the Maison de Campagne of
S. Sulpice, at Issy. It is an old royal chateau, much dilapidated, for
the good seminarists do not pretend to much comfort in their house; it
would seem as if they intended their discipline to serve as a
winnowing fan for all light and worldly spirits. They have, however,
spacious gardens behind. We were shown a summer house in which Bossuet
and Fénélon held a long conference on the subject in dispute between
them, and agreed on statements together, which are put up in the room,
though the interest of the latter is much gone by in the totally
different state of things at present. Eighty young men study
philosophy here. We saw and talked some little time with M. Faillon,
the Supérieur, a man of learning. M. Galais was out, and we only met
him returning on his way from Paris on foot. Coming home we went into
the Maison des Carmes, now in repair. M. Gaduel took us into the
passage out of which the priests, after stating to the authority the
act of their death, were led forward down three steps into the
garden, at the bottom of which the assassins fell upon them and
murdered them. No spot in Paris touched me more than this. There is
what appears to be the marks of a bloody hand in the passage still;
but there is no other record of that ruthless deed. The church has
nothing remarkable about it: but what devoted heroism on the one side,
and what infernal madness on the other, have this house and garden
witnessed! How many martyrs here won their crown. Truly it is holy
ground, and the blood there shed is yielding a rich harvest of
Christian grace in the Church which has sprung up out of its ashes
with the strength of a young eagle. In the evening we went to the
assemblée générale of S. Vincent de Paul, 2. Rue neuve Notre Dame,
under the patronage of the Archbishop of Chalcedoine. The president
gave in a long speech an account of their doings; but he was old, had
lost his teeth, and dropped his voice, so that we lost very much of it.
"The beginning of his speech was about S. Vincent de Paul himself. The
society had just come into possession of some relics of him, and
especially a letter in his own handwriting, containing some counsels
of charity. For some reason or other he was not able to produce the
letter this evening; I should have liked to hear it, for his words are
worth gathering up. He also said that he had been to see his
birth-place; and that the house he was born in had been removed stone
by stone, and a chapel put in its place. The village had lost its old
name, and taken his; an old oak, known in his history, where he kept
pigs for his father, was still alive, and came out in leaf before the
other trees. The president cautioned them against any departure from
their rules; against admitting members who were only 'braves hommes,'
without being religious; against attempting to bring in secondary
motives to induce the members of any 'conférence' to work; against
reserving their money for their own districts, instead of putting it
into the common fund of the conférence: against a slight and lazy way
of visiting the poor, a 'visite de corridor,' as he called it, instead
of a 'visite assise.' He said they ought to sit down and talk
familiarly, and take the little dirty children by the hand, &c. &c.
Finally, a good many of them being students, he gave them some advice
about young students recommended to them from the country, especially
to take care that they were sent straight to them, and not left first
to get into bad company. He described how some friend in one of the
provinces sends you a note by some youth whom he describes as a 'petit
ange,' and who, after six weeks' residence in Paris, comes and brings
you his note, his eye already tarnished, his manner bold and loose,
'un ange déchu.'"--_M._
There were present full two hundred, chiefly young men, in a little
amphitheatre. It was commenced and ended with prayer, which claimed
the intercession of S. Vincent. This is his fête day. They mentioned
four branch societies established at Manchester, Liverpool, Dublin,
and Edinburgh.
_Sunday, July 20._--I gave up the attempt to go to Bishop Luscombe's
Chapel, as there was no communion. Heard High Mass at La Madeleine.
The music very good, and the dresses splendid; not more than an hour.
At two o'clock went to Vespers there: there was chanting of Psalms, an
hour, and then a long sermon, more than an hour, on the virtues of
S. Vincent de Paul. The preacher used a great deal of action, and gave
me the idea of having very much got up his discourse, which was
confirmed by seeing him in the evening at Notre Dame des Victoires,
where we heard the commencement of the same sermon, but did not stop.
The subject of it seems to have been a very great and good man; the
sermon was a sort of abstract, I believe, of the Saint's life by the
Bishop of Rodez. There was a passionate address to the Saint in the
middle, with eyes uplifted to heaven. A great many people, chiefly
women; many ladies,--but I do not think it was a favourite preacher.
We gave up the conférence of S. Francis Xavier at S. Sulpice, having
so much to do to-morrow, though much to our regret; but late hours
and great exertions here have tried us both, and we shall be
very glad of a change.
We walked through the Tuileries just before dark; a great multitude of
citizens.
_Monday, July 21._--We were occupied all the morning in packing up
and calling on MM. D'Alzon, Bonnetty, and Noirlieu--the latter out. We
left Paris a quarter past six, on a very fine pleasant evening. Having
the two first places in the malle poste, we enjoyed the drive very
much as long as it was light--we reached Reims in eleven hours, a
quarter after five, without much fatigue. I slept at intervals, and
when I awoke admired the brilliant moonlight, Venus, and Jupiter,
through one or two forests, or at least woods, which we passed. The
road generally very flat, with these exceptions. Our companion was a
gentlemanly Frenchman, with whom I had much conversation. He seemed to
be much attached to the present Royal Family, whom he spoke of as
acquainted with them, and maintained that the King was a religious
man--that he heard Mass daily; the Queen was a model of piety. He
thought their dynasty would stand; and not the least, because they
would never submit to be exiles; they would either keep the throne, or
die for it. The great mistake of Charles X. was quitting France; if
you go away everyone is against you; if you stay, a party is sure to
rally round you. He seemed to think the issue might have been
different had Charles X. remained. But there was no chance of a
restoration now; the great mass of the country was satisfied. He spoke
well of the Duc de Nemours, still more highly of the Duc d'Orléans,
and said the Comte de Paris was a very promising boy. He regretted the
want of an _hereditary_ peerage in France, and the little
independence that body possessed in consequence. I remarked the
smallness of fortunes: that 60,000 francs a year were thought a good
fortune for a peer. He said not fifty peers of France possessed that;
many could not keep their carriage. Spoke of the clergy as not high
enough in point of acquirements--he did not say their discipline or
piety was defective, but that they were not a match in information,
ability, and powers of mind, for those opposed to them. Wished the
higher classes would send their sons into orders,--a Royal Prince, for
instance, would be a good example. The tax on land in France is nearly
one-fifth of the _produce_; very heavy; 200_l._ a year in land a
deputy's qualification. Soon after getting to our inn, which was right
opposite the west front of the Cathedral, we attended a Low Mass, and
at eight o'clock a chanted Mass: it was a Mass for the dead. The
outside of Reims is all that can be conceived of beauty, grandeur,
unity of conception, delicacy and boldness of execution; and this,
though the one great design of the architect has not been
completed, for the four towers of the transepts have had no spires
since the great fire of 1491; and the western towers are also without
theirs, and so end incompletely, the eye positively requiring them.
The design of these towers is very singular; and the skill with which
a strength sufficient to support spires 400 feet high is veiled, so as
to make the towers appear quite pierced and open, seems to me one of
the greatest marvels of architecture. The prototype exists in the four
towers of Laon, which have the same design in embryo; but this is so
enriched, expanded, and beautified by the architect of Reims, as to
become his own work in point of originality, and certainly in grace
and boldness not to be surpassed. The superiority of the western
front, even over that of Amiens, is very marked--indeed, I think it
perfect; and the whole of the rest of the outside of the church
reaches nearly the same degree. No words can convey any notion of it.
The north-west tower was half covered with scaffolding; for here, as
every where, great reparations are going on. To the interior I do not
give _quite_ so much praise, though it is still of exceeding
grandeur, simplicity, and beauty: perhaps, were _all_ its windows
like those of the clerestory, the effect might equal or surpass that
of Chartres. The west end is, I think, the finest which I know,
bearing in mind Amiens and St. Ouen; in addition to a rose window of
exceeding brilliancy, and colouring inexpressible, which, forty
feet in diameter, crowns the top, there is a smaller one over the
doorway, answering to the deep recess of that matchless portal
outside. This is a feature of great beauty, though the glass is far
from equalling that of the upper rose. There is happily no organ here,
but at the end of the north transept, where it has not quite so much
to spoil. The transept is inferior to the rest of the church in style.
It was restored after the great fire in 1491; and this part of the
church, with the whole of the choir and arrangements of the eastern
chapels, struck me as decidedly inferior to Amiens. There is not,
indeed, generally the same impression of vastness and wondrous height
produced on the mind. The pillars are cylinders with four columns at
the corners, like Amiens, very simple and severe; but the strength is
not quite enough veiled. We went all round the galleries inside and
outside, up the centre belfry, which rises ninety-two steps over the
top of the vaulting, with an interval of about ten feet besides. It is
a forest of wood, and had once a spire of wood, which since the fire
has not been restored; this and the six towers have been covered
'provisoirement en ardoises,' as the guide told us, 'mais ce
provisoirement a duré long temps;' indeed, from 1491 to our time,
without much chance of being improved. We went up the great towers,
and could hardly admire enough the delicacy and boldness of the
four corner turrets in open work. The present towers are 240 or 250
feet high; they would, I think, equal or surpass Strasburg and
Antwerp, had they spires. The immense quantity of sculpture all over
this exterior cannot be conceived, nor the ingenuity with which it is
made to serve for decoration. A day is far too short a time to carry
off the impression of it. The mind is fatigued and exhausted during
many a visit, and is not at ease till it has sufficiently mastered the
whole, in order to fix itself for admiration and contemplation on some
particular part. It would be a week's good work to see it, and it
should be visited once a year by all those who talk of the darkness of
the Middle Ages, and the greatness of the nineteenth century, which is
sorely taxed to keep in repair what they constructed, and has not
sufficient piety to restore a part where the architect's design has
been left incomplete. Such parts remain, like the window of Aladdin's
palace, to show that a materialising philosophy, with all its improved
physical powers, remains at immeasurable distance behind the efforts
of faith and piety. M. Cousin should be sent to study truth on his
knees in Notre Dame of Amiens, or of Reims.
In the midst of seeing the cathedral we walked to St. Remi, a mile,
taking the ramparts. They offer a good view of the cathedral, and one
of the country round, like Wiltshire, but backed by fine hills
to the south; but in this open country, and along all that line of
hills, the famous vine of champagne flourishes. St. Remi is an immense
church, 350 feet long, besides the Lady Chapel: Norman, with pointed
arches; the choir with its stained windows very good; seven in the
apse. The tomb of St. Remi was under repair; it is between the high
altar and the east end; so the statues of the twelve peers were ranged
six on one side and six on the other side of the great altar _pro
tempore_. This church is a very grand and fine one, and, except in the
presence of the cathedral, would take a day to see. Its west front has
been strangely tampered with, but reminds one still, especially the
turrets, of St. Georges de Boscherville; but this is greatly the more
spacious church of the two.
We spent all the day in going about, passing through the internal
galleries of the cathedral; the curve in the nave is very perceptible.
The roof was poorly painted for the sacre of Charles X. with white
fleurs de lis on a blue ground; it is very massive in its vaulting,
the pitch, perhaps, not perfectly agreeable to the eye.
We had a letter from M. D'Alzon to the Archbishop, but he had left
Reims a day or two before; we had another from M. Gaduel to the
Supérieur of the Séminaire, which _M._ took in the afternoon. About 8
o'clock we both went there, and had some talk with him and the
professors, one of whom, M. Lassaigne, gave us a translation of
Gioberti against Cousin, and recommended me Le Prêtre Juge et Medicin
dans le Tribunal de la Penitence, which I got. I gathered from their
discourse that confession is the great chain which holds together the
whole Christian life; it is practised weekly by the pupils: communion
is entirely free. A great many priests of the neighbourhood confess
still to the supérieur (M. Aubry), their old teacher: forty he said. I
asked them if they could conceive a Christian life maintained without
confession: they said, hardly; that it was involved in our Lord's
words, "whose sins ye do retain," &c., which power could only be
exercised upon each individual case, after knowledge of the facts,
such as of course can only be obtained by auricular confession. I
alleged to the Supérieur the strong expressions often used to the
Virgin Mary, instancing "les satisfactions infinies du Fils de Dieu et
de sa Mère:" he condemned them and _this_. I spoke of St.
Bonaventure's Psalter; he did not seem acquainted with it, and
regretted that I did not stay till the morrow, when he would have gone
over it with me, and weighed the words. But at last he said, St.
Bonaventure is not the Church, though he is a saint and doctor of it.
They were very kind and cordial, and I should have liked to see more
of them.