Seeing Europe with Famous Authors, Volume 3

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The Tomb of Napoleon, under the magnificent dome of the Invalides, which
was added to the original church by Jules Hardouin Mansart, and is treated
as a separate building, is entered from the Place Vauban at the back, or
by the left cloister and a court beyond.

On entering the vast interior, a huge circular space is seen to open,
beneath the cupola painted by Charles de Lafosse and Jouvenet, and, in it,
surrounded by caryatides and groups of moldering banners, the huge tomb of
Finland granite, given by the Emperor Nicholas. Hither the remains of the
great Emperor were brought back from St. Helena by the Prince de
Joinville, in 1841, tho Louis Philippe, while adopting this popular
measure as regarded the dead, renewed the sentence of exile against the
living members of the Bonaparte family.

Four smaller cupolas encircle the great dome. In the first, on the right,
is the tomb of Joseph Bonaparte. On the left are the tombs of Jerome
Bonaparte, with a statue, and of his eldest son and the Princess Catherine
of Wurtemberg. The other two cupolas are still empty.

Descending the steps behind the splendid baldacchino, we find black-marble
tombs of Marshals Duroc and Bertrand guarding the approach to that of
Napoleon I. His own words, taken from his will, appear in large letters
over the entrance: "I desire my ashes to lie on the shores of the Seine
among the people of France whom I loved so deeply."

The sentiment, the tomb, and the dome have a unique splendor. A white-
marble statue of Napoleon I. by Stuart is in a black-marble chapel. His
Austerlitz sword, the crown voted by Cherbourg, and colors taken in his
different battles, were formerly shown in a "chapelle ardente."

The Palais de Justice and the Sainte Chapelle

By Grant Allen

[Footnote: From "Paris."]

Go along the Rue de Rivoli as far as the Square of the Tour St. Jacques.
If driving, alight here. Turn down the Place du Chatelet to your right. In
front is the pretty modern fountain of the Chatelet; right, the Theatre du
Chatelet; left, the Opera Comique. The bridge which faces you is the Pont-
au-Change, so-called from the money-changers' and jewelers' booths which
once flanked its wooden predecessor (the oldest in Paris), as they still
do the Rialto at Venice, and the Ponte Vecchio at Florence.

Stand by the right-hand corner of the bridge before crossing it. In front
is the Ile de la Cite. The square, dome-crowned building opposite you to
the left is the modern Tribunal de Commerce; beyond it leftward lie the
Marche-aux-Fleurs and the long line of the Hotel-Dieu, above which rise
the towers and spire of Notre Dame. In front, to the right, the vast block
of buildings broken by towers forms part of the Palais de Justice, the
ancient Palace of the French kings, begun by Hugh Capet. The square tower
to the left in this block is the Tour de l'Horloge. Next, to the right,
come the two round towers of the Conciergerie, known respectively as the
Tour de Cesar and the Tour de Montgomery. The one beyond them, with
battlements, is the Tour d'Argent. It was in the Conciergerie that Marie
Antoinette, Robespierre, and many other victims of the Revolution were
imprisoned.

These medieval towers, much altered and modernized, are now almost all
that remains of the old Palace, which, till after the reign of Louis IX.
(St. Louis), formed the residence of the Kings of France. Charles VII.
gave it in 1431 to the Parlement or Supreme Court. Ruined by fires and
re-building, it now consists for the most part of masses of irregular
recent edifices. The main modern facade fronts the Boulevard du Palais.

Cross the bridge. The Tour de l'Horloge on your right, at the corner of
the Boulevard du Palais, contains the oldest public clock in France
(1370). The figures of Justice and Pity by its side were originally
designed by Germain Pilon, but are now replaced by copies. Walk round the
Palais by the quay along the north branch of the Seine till you come to
the Rue de Harlay. Turn there to your left, toward the handsome and
imposing modern facade of this side of the Palais de Justice. The interior
is unworthy a visit. The Rue de Harlay forms the westernmost end of the
original Ile de la Cite. The prow-shaped extremity of the modern island
has been artificially produced by embanking the sites of two or three
minor islets. The Palace Dauphine, which occupies the greater part of this
modern extension, was built in 1608; it still affords a characteristic
example of the domestic Paris of the period before Baron Haussmann.

Continue along the quay as far as the Pont-Neuf, so as to gain an idea of
the extent of the Ile de la Cite in this direction. The center of the
Pont-Neuf is occupied by an equestrian statue of Henri IV., first of the
Bourbon kings. Its predecessor was erected in 1635, and was destroyed to
make cannon during the great Revolution. Louis XVIII. re-erected it. From
this point you can gain a clear idea of the two branches of the Seine as
they unite at the lower end of the Ile de la Cite. To your right, looking
westward, you also obtain a fine view of the Colonnade of the Old Louvre,
with the southwestern gallery, and the more modern buildings of the Museum
behind it.

Now, walk along the southern quay of the island, round the remainder of
the Palais de Justice, as far as the Boulevard du Palais. There turn to
your left, and go in at the first door of the Palace on the left
(undeterred by sentries) into the court of the Sainte Chapelle, the only
important relic now remaining of the home of Saint Louis. You may safely
neglect the remainder of the building.

The thirteenth century was a period of profound religious enthusiasm
throughout Europe. Conspicuous among its devout soldiers was Louis IX.,
afterward canonized as St. Louis. The saintly king purchased from Baldwin,
Emperor of Constantinople, the veritable Crown of Thorns, and a fragment
of the True Cross--paying for these relics an immense sum of money. Having
become possest of such invaluable and sacred objects, Louis desired to
have them housed with suitable magnificence. He therefore entrusted Pierre
de Montereau with the task of building a splendid chapel (within the
precincts of his palace), begun in 1245, and finished three years later,
immediately after which the king set out on his Crusade. The monument
breathes throughout the ecstatic piety of the mystic king; it was
consecrated in 1248, in the name of the Holy Crown and the Holy Cross, by
Eudes de Chateauroux, Bishop of Tusculum and papal legate.

Three things should be noted about the Sainte Chapelle. (1) It is a
chapel, not a church; therefore it consists (practically) of a choir
alone, without nave or transepts. (2) It is the domestic Chapel of the
Royal Palace. (3) It is, above all things, the Shrine of the Crown of
Thorns. These three points must be constantly borne in mind in examining
the building.

Erected later than Notre-Dame, it represents the pointed style of the
middle of the thirteenth century, and is singularly pure and uniform
throughout. Secularized at the Revolution, it fell somewhat into decay;
but was judiciously restored by Viollet-le-Duc and others. The "Messe
Rouge," or "Messe du St. Esprit," is still celebrated here once yearly, on
the re-opening of the courts after the autumn vacation, but no other
religious services take place in the building. The Crown of Thorns and the
piece of the True Cross are now preserved in the Treasury at Notre Dame.

Examine the exterior in detail from the court on the south side. More even
than most Gothic buildings, the Sainte Chapelle is supported entirely by
its massive piers, the wall being merely used for enclosure, and
consisting for the most part of lofty windows. As in most French Gothic
buildings, the choir terminates in a round apse, whereas English
cathedrals have usually a square end. The beautiful light fleche or spire
in the center has been restored. Observe the graceful leaden angel,
holding a cross, on the summit of the chevet or round apse. To see the
facade, stand well back opposite it, where you can observe that the chapel
is built in four main stories--those, namely, of the Lower Church or
crypt, of the Upper Church, of the great rose window (with later
flamboyant tracery), and of the gable-end, partially masked by an open
parapet studded with the royal fleurs-de-lis of France. The Crown of
Thorns surrounds the two pinnacles which flank the fourth story.

The chapel consists of a lower and an upper church. The Lower Church is a
mere crypt, which was employed for the servants of the royal family. Its
portal has in its tympanum (or triangular space in the summit of the arch)
the Coronation of the Virgin, and on its center pillar a good figure of
the Madonna and Child. Enter the Lower Church. It is low, and has pillars
supporting the floor above. In the polychromatic decoration of the walls
and pillars, notice the frequent repetition of the royal lilies of France,
combined with the three castles of Castille, in honor of Blanche of
Castille, the Mother of St. Louis.

Mount to the Upper Chapel (or Sainte Chapelle proper) by the small spiral
staircase in the corner. This soaring pile was the oratory where the royal
family and court attended service; its gorgeousness bespeaks its origin
and nature. It glows like a jewel. First go out of the door and examine
the exterior and doorway of the chapel. Its platform was directly
approached in early times from the Palace. The center pillar bears a fine
figure of Christ. In the tympanum (as over the principal doorway of almost
every important church in Paris and in the district) is a relief of the
Last Judgment. Below stands St. Michael with his scales, weighing the
souls; on either side is depicted the Resurrection, with the Angels of the
Last Trump. Above, in the second tier, is Christ, holding up His hands
with the marks of the nails, as a sign of mercy to the redeemed: to right
and left of Him angels display the Crown of Thorns and the True Cross, to
contain which sacred relics the chapel was built.

On the extreme left kneels the Blessed Virgin; on the extreme right,
Sainte Genevieve. This scene of the Last Judgment was adapted with a few
alterations from that above the central west door of Notre Dame, the Crown
of Thorns in particular being here significantly substituted for the three
nails and spear. The small lozenge reliefs to right and left of the portal
are also interesting. Those to the left represent in a very naive manner
God the Father creating the world, sun and moon, light, plants, animals,
man, etc. Those to the right give the story of Genesis, Cain and Abel, the
Flood, the Ark, Noah's Sacrifice, Noah's Vine, etc., the subjects of all
which the visitor can easily recognize, and is strongly recommended to
identify for himself.

The interior consists almost entirely of large and lofty windows, with
magnificent stained glass, in large part ancient. The piers which divide
the windows and alone support the graceful vault of the roof, are provided
with statues of the twelve apostles, a few of them original. Each bears
his well-known symbol. Spell them out if possible. Beneath the windows, in
the quatrefoils of the arcade, are enamelled glass mosaics representing
the martyrdoms of the saints--followers of Christ, each wearing his own
crown of thorns: a pretty conceit wholly in accord with St. Louis's
ecstatic type of piety. Conspicuous among them are St. Denis carrying his
head, St. Sebastian pierced with arrows, St. Stephen stoned, St. Lawrence
on his gridiron, etc. The apse (formerly separated from the body of the
building by a rood-screen, now destroyed), contains the vacant base of the
high altar, behind which stands an arcaded tabernacle, now empty, in whose
shrine were once preserved the Crown of Thorns, the fragment of the True
Cross, and other relics.

Among them in the later times was included the skull of St. Louis himself
in a golden reliquary. Two angels at the summit of the large center arch
of the arcade bear a representation of the Crown of Thorns in their hands.
Above the tabernacle rises a canopy or baldacchino, approached by two
spiral staircases; from its platform St. Louis and his successors, the
kings of France, were in the habit of exhibiting with their own hands the
actual relics themselves once a year to the faithful. The golden reliquary
in which the sacred objects were contained was melted down in the
Revolution. The small window with bars to your right, as you face the high
altar, was placed there by the superstitious and timid Louis XI., in order
that he might behold the elevation of the Host and the sacred relics
without being exposed to the danger of assassination. The visitor should
also notice the inlaid stone pavement, with its frequent repetition of the
fleur-de-lis and the three castles. The whole breathes the mysticism of
St. Louis; the lightness of the architecture, the height of the apparently
unsupported roof, and the magnificence of the decoration, render this the
most perfect ecclesiastical building in Paris.

In returning from the chapel, notice on the outside, from the court to the
south, the apparently empty and useless porch, supporting a small room,
which is the one through whose grated window Louis XI. used to watch the
elevation.

The Hotel de Ville and the Conciergerie

By Augustus J. C. Hare

[Footnote: From "Walks In Paris." By arrangement with the
publisher, David McKay. Copyright, 1880.]

It was Etienne Marcel, Mayor of Paris, who first established the municipal
council at the Place de Greve, at that time the only large square in
Paris. In July, 1357, he purchased as a Hostel de Ville the Maison aux
Piliers, which had been inhabited by Clemence d'Hongrie, widow of Louis le
Hutin, and which afterward took the name of Maison du Dauphin from her
nephew and heir, Guy, Dauphin de Viennois.

In 1532 a new Hotel de Ville was begun and finished by the architect Marin
de la Vallee in the reign of Henri IV. This was so much altered by
successive restorations and revolutions that only a staircase, two
monumental chimney-pieces in the Salle du Trone, and some sculptured
doorways and other details remained from the interior decorations in the
old building at the time of its destruction.

Till the time of Louis XVI. the history of the Hotel de Ville was entirely
local; after that it became the history of France. It was there that Louis
XVI. received the tri-colored cockade from Bailly, Mayor of Paris, July
17, 1789; and there, in the chamber called, from its hangings, Le Cabinet
Vert, that Robespierre was arrested, in the name of the Convention, during
one of the meetings of the Commune, July 27, 1794. After the fall of
Robespierre it was seriously proposed to pull down the Hotel de Ville,
because it had been his last asylum--"Le Louvre de Robespierre." It was
only saved by the common-sense of Leonard Bourdon.

But most of all, in the popular recollection, is the Hotel de Ville
connected with public fetes--with those on the second marriage of Napoleon
I. (1810), on the entry of Louis XVIII. (1814), on the coronation of
Charles X. (1825), on the marriage of the Duke of Orleans (1837), on the
visits of different foreign potentates to Napoleon III. Here also was the
Republic proclaimed, September 4, 1870.

It was in one of the windows of the Hotel de Ville that Louis Philippe
embraced Lafayette (August, 1830) in sight of the people, to evince the
union of the July monarchy with the bourgeoisie. On the steps of the
building Louis Blanc proclaimed the Republic, February 24,1848. From
September 4, 1870, to February 28, 1871, the hotel was the seat of the
"government of the national defense," and from March 19 to May 22, 1871,
that of the pretended "Committee of public safety" of the Communists. On
May 24 it was burned by its savage defenders, many of whom happily
perished in the flames.

The Place de l'Hotel de Ville is so modernized that it retains nothing of
the Place de Greve but its terrible historic associations. Among the many
fearful executions here, it is only necessary to recall that of Jean
Hardi, torn to pieces by four horses (March 30, 1473) on an accusation of
trying to poison Louis XI.; that of the Comte de St. Pol (December 19,
1475), long commemorated by a pillar; those of a long list of Protestants,
opened by the auto-de-fe of Jacques de Povanes, student of the University,
in 1525; that of Nicholas de Salcede, Sieur d'Auvillers, torn to pieces by
four horses in the presence of the king and queens, for conspiracy to
murder the Duc d'Anjou, youngest son of Catherine de Medici. More terrible
still was the execution of Ravaillac (May 27, 1610) murderer of Henri IV.

"The executioner cut off his hand with an ax, and threw it and the
murderous knife into the fire. His breasts, his arms and his legs were
torn with pincers, and boiling oil and melted lead poured into the open
wounds. He was then dismembered by four strong horses, which pulled for no
less than an entire hour. They dismembered only a corpse. He expired,"
says L'Estoile, "at the second or third pull." When the executioner had to
throw the limbs into the fire that the ashes, according to the sentence,
might be flung to the winds, the whole crowd rushed on to claim them.
"But," adds the same chronicler, "the people rushed on so impetuously that
every mother's son had a piece, even the children, who made fires of them
at the corners of the streets."

After the capture of the Bastille its brave governor, M. de Launay, was
beheaded on the steps of the Hotel de Ville, and his major, M. de Losme-
Salbray, was massacred under the Arcade St. Jean. These were the first
victims of the Revolution. Foulon, Intendant du Commerce, suffered here
soon afterward, hung from the cords by which a lamp was suspended, whence
the expression, which soon resounded in many a popular refrain, of "put
the aristocrats to the lantern."

* * * * *

Two parasite buildings, the Conciergerie, and the Prefecture of Police,
are now annexed to the Palais de Justice. The Conciergerie takes its name
from the house of the concierge in the time of the royal residence here,
who had a right to two chickens a day and to the cinders and ashes of the
king's chimney.

It has always been a prison, and it was here that the Comte d'Armagnac was
murdered, June 12, 1418. Here was made, below the level of the Seine, the
prison called La Souriciere, from the rats which had the reputation of
eating the prisoners alive. The present Conciergerie occupies the lower
story of the right wing of the existing Palais de Justice, and extends
along the Quai de l'Horloge, as far as the towers of Montgomery and Cesar.
It has an entrance on the quay, before which the guillotine-carts received
the victims of the Reign of Terror, and another to the right of the great
staircase in the Cour d'Honneur.

All other associations of the Conciergerie are lost in those which were
attached to it by the great Revolution. The cell in which Marie Antoinette
suffered her seventy-five days' agony--from August 2 till October 15, when
she was condemned--was turned into a chapel of expiation in 1816. The lamp
still exists which lighted the august prisoner and enabled her guards to
watch her through the night. The door still exists, tho changed in
position, which was cut transversely in half and the upper part fixt that
the queen might be forced to bend in going out, because she had said that
whatever indignities they might inflict upon her they could never force
her to bend the head.

After her condemnation, Marie Antoinette was not brought back to this
chamber. It was a far more miserable cell which saw her write her last
touching farewell to Madame Elizabeth. But this was the room in which the
Girondins spent their last night, when, as Riouffe, himself in the prison
at the time, says, "all during this frightful night their songs sounded
and if they stopt singing it was but to talk about their country." The
adjoining cell, now used as a sacristy, was the prison of Robespierre.

Pere la Chaise

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

[Footnote: From "Outre Mer." Published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.]

The cemetery of Pere la Chaise is the Westminster Abbey of Paris. Both are
the dwellings of the dead; but in one they repose in green alleys and
beneath the open sky--in the other their resting-place is in the shadowy
aisle, and beneath the dim arches of an ancient abbey. One is a temple of
nature; the other a temple of art. In one, the soft melancholy of the
scene is rendered still more touching by the warble of birds and the shade
of trees, and the grave receives the gentle visit of the sunshine and the
shower; in the other, no sound but the passing footfall breaks the silence
of the place; the twilight steals in through high and dusky windows; and
the damps of the gloomy vault lie heavy on the heart, and leave their
stain upon the moldering tracery of the tomb.

Pere la Chaise stands just beyond the Barriere d'Aulney, on a 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 Abelard and
Heloise. 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. Abelard 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
Heloise, 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 Pere 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!....

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