Young Americans Abroad
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In our walk we were all struck with an immense wooden pile, which we
found was the Bibliotheque St. Genevieve. The front is very chaste, and
has very many arched windows. The library is more than three hundred
feet in length, and is covered on the exterior with the names of all the
great authors of every age and nation. We saw the names of many of our
countrymen--Washington, Franklin, Rumford, Clinton, Cooper, Prescott,
Irving, &c. We were unable to enter, as repairs were in progress, but
were told that the library has two hundred thousand volumes, and
several thousand MSS.
We have all been much gratified with the Church of St. Etienne du Mont.
It boasts an antiquity that dates back to 1131, and its tower and turret
are known to be as early as 1222. The exterior is remarkable for a
strange mixture of architecture, and some of the details are very
beautiful. The interior cannot fail to interest a thoughtful person, I
think. The pictures are very fine indeed, and some of the marbles are of
the highest excellence. We went into the little Chapel of St. Genevieve,
the patron saint of Paris, where is the tomb of the saint. The tomb was
literally stuck over with small tallow candles, and looked like a piece
of meat larded. The room was filled with worshippers, all on their
knees; and two women had as much anguish in their faces as I ever saw.
All the people kneeling at this tomb seemed far more intent and in
earnest than the hundreds at grand mass in the church proper. Just as we
stepped outside this chapel, we found on the wall the monuments of
Racine and Pascal, who are both buried in this church. The church was
full of people, and in one little chapel the priest was baptizing an
infant. We went in and looked on. It was the first time I had ever
witnessed this monstrous mummery in the Catholic church; and I called in
the Dr. and Mr. S., who were looking at some statuary. The priest was
hardly decent at his work. He did it all in a hurry,--put oil and
something else on the child, fore and aft,--and how men and women could
stand and let the stupidity take place on their children, I cannot
understand. After seeing Pascal's grave, and thinking of his immortal
works, it was poor preparation for the mountebank exhibition, and
awkward work of making Christians, that we witnessed. You know, Charley,
that I am not a lover of Romanism, but I never felt so thankful as on
that day for being a Protestant.
The pictures of this church are very well worthy of careful
notice--especially two, said to have been given by the city to the
saint, who caused a famine to stay its ravages, and restored a sick king
by intercession.
Now, pray, do not think me church mad if I carry you once more to
another old one. I am sure, if you had seen it, that it would cause you
to talk about it often. Well, it is the Church St. Germain des Pres.
This is regarded as the oldest in Paris, and was originally an abbey.
There was a church here as early as 560. This was probably built about
the middle of the ninth century, and its completion was in the twelfth;
for it was consecrated by Pope Alexander III. In this church was the
tomb of Childebert, the founder of the first edifice. The abbey had a
refectory, cloisters, &c, was surrounded by a moat, and had been
fortified. A large open field, close by, was the resort of duellists,
and many a bloody affray has there occurred. Casimir, King of Poland,
was an abbot of this church. The revolution was sadly injurious to this
fine sanctuary, and it was for a time converted into a saltpetre
manufactory. Charles X. repaired it, and after him Louis Philippe
carefully superintended its restoration. The inside of the church is a
cross, with a circular choir; and the arches are semi-circular, and
indicate great antiquity. The restoration of the nave and choir has been
most carefully done, at immense expense. The roof of the choir is
painted deep blue, with stars. The capitals of the columns are richly
gilt, and the shafts are painted in red stripes--exact copies of the old
devices. Nothing can be finer than the marble altar and the carved
stalls of the choir. Nor does the church lack for historical names among
its dead. Here are the tombs of Earl Douglass, Descartes, Mabillon,
Montfaucon, and Casimir of Poland, who died, abbot, in 1672. Every thing
here in ecclesiastical architecture is so different from all that we
have in our country, that I examine these noble relics with great
pleasure, and do not know but I shall soon become as antiquarian in my
taste as-you know who.
Yours affectionately,
JAMES.
Letter 28.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
On a fine morning we rode over to the Jardin des Plantes, accompanied by
Mr. R----, whose long residence has made him very familiar with this
lovely spot. I think we all looked forward to this excursion with great
anticipation, because we knew that this was the most famous garden in
Europe; and then, in connection with it, are the richest cabinets in the
world of natural history, mineralogy, geology, and a noble collection of
living animals from all countries. Ever since 1635, the world has been
placed under contribution to enrich this spot. The greatest botanists
and naturalists of Europe have labored here. Buffon himself was the
great man of the place in his day. Even revolutionary fury spared this
retreat and treasury of Nature. Bonaparte made it his pet, and when the
troops of Europe were at the walls of Paris, they agreed to respect and
preserve the spot so dear to science. This establishment is on the banks
of the river, and there are many portals by which entrance may be
obtained. The gardens are very large, but I cannot speak of their exact
size. They are in the neatest order. Every shrub and flower, plant and
tree, is labelled, so that reference is easy. I was delighted to see,
on a lofty eminence, the cedar of Lebanon. It is a glorious tree, and
was planted here in 1734, and is now about twelve feet round at its
base. We also saw some palm-trees which were given by Louis XIV. They
were, I should think, nearly thirty feet high.
The Menagerie has long been famous, and is most admirably laid out in
walks and enclosures, so that the animals have plenty of room for
exercise and pasture. Since the days of Noah's ark, I suppose there
never was such a collection of animals, clean and unclean. The bears,
elephants, lions, and tigers are all what are called first-rate
specimens.
We were pointed out the house where the celebrated Cuvier lived, and
which was his favorite residence. Here was his life's labor, the
Zooelogical Cabinet, which he arranged according to his system. Only
fancy a house about four hundred feet long, having three stories, and
all filled up with nearly two hundred thousand specimens; and the
preparations are almost as fine as the animal was in life.
The Museum of Comparative Anatomy, also, was the labor of Cuvier. The
collections of mineralogy and geology are very extensive; but I did not
have much time to examine them, nor are they as much in my line as some
other things. The specimens of precious stones were curious, and I was
pleased to see amber containing perfect insects, perhaps antediluvian
insects. And so we employed three hours upon what I should have liked to
pass three whole days. But it would take years of diligent study to
understand what is here to be seen.
If a person walks about Paris and inquires much as to the history of the
city and its improvements, as we Americans say, he will soon find that
Paris has been chiefly indebted for her grandeur to Henry IV., Louis
XIV., Napoleon, and Louis Philippe. Bridges, places, arches, and
fountains show how much Paris owes to these rulers. Of fountains there
are, I should think, nearly a hundred in the city, and some are
exceedingly fine. The Seine is not much of an affair. With us, it would
be only a muddy brook. Some of the bridges that span it are fine. I have
seen nothing in Paris more picturesque than the prospect from the Pont
Neuf. It is my favorite stand point. Off to the right are the towers of
Notre Dame, and the long line of old houses which tell of centuries upon
centuries since they were built; and on the left of the river are the
Hotel de Ville, St. Germain L'Auxerrois; and some of the most venerable
streets. From the bell tower of St. Germain the signal was rung for the
infamous massacre of the Protestants, on St. Bartholomew's eve, 23d of
August, 1572. In the Rue de l'Arbre sec, at No. 14, was Admiral Coligny
murdered on that occasion. It was formerly known as the Hotel Ponthieu,
but is to be demolished in a few weeks, to make way for improvements. We
felt a desire to see the spot where the Bastile formerly stood, and
which was destroyed by the mob in July, 1789, and the key of which is
now at Mount Vernon, having been sent as a present to Washington. This
was the theatre of the greatest resistance made by the insurgents in
June, 1848; and here, too, it was that the Archbishop of Paris met with
his death. On the site of the Bastile, Louis Philippe laid the
foundation of a column which commemorates the revolution of 1830. This
column is of bronze, and is one hundred and sixty-three feet high, in
addition to the pedestal of white marble, supported by immense granite
blocks. The diameter of the column is, I believe, twelve feet, and it
cost about twelve hundred thousand francs. There is no masonry in the
interior. The staircase is suspended, and the whole concern vibrates
with the passing breeze. I did not ascend, you may be sure. The
Corinthian capital, over which is a gallery with rails, is very
beautiful, and is the largest casting in bronze that is known--or,
rather, was, for I _think_ that the Amazon at the London Exhibition will
take the palm for size. On the globe which surmounts the pillar stands a
colossal gilt figure, which represents Liberty. On the bands which
encircle the pillar are the names of those who were killed in the
three days of July, amounting to fire hundred and four. All around and
beneath are interred the remains of these patriots.
[Illustration: Colonne de Juillet.]
We are going to take the Cemetery at Pere la Chaise for to-morrow's
excursion; and the rest of the day I must devote to letters home, as the
packet day is close at hand.
Yours,
WELD.
Letter 29.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
This morning, as we were taking a very comfortable breakfast at the
coffee-room of our hotel, and as I was reading Galignani's daily paper,
I found a person at the next table addressing me, in nasal twang,
"Stranger, is this fellow Galignani a reliable chap?" I assured him that
he passed for an authority. Laying down his paper on the table, he
pathetically described the tramp which the programme for the
sight-seeing of yesterday's paper had given him, and declared his
inability to keep up with the instructions for that day. Finding that he
was a character, I carried on the conversation; and he talked most
edifyingly to all in the room, as he spoke loud enough to be heard at
the very end. I inquired if he had been to London. His reply was, "I
reckon I have; why, I come on purpose to see the _Crystial_ Palace."
"Well, sir," I said, "and how did you like it?" "O, that exhibition is
some!" "And pray, sir, what did you think of the Greek Slave?" "There,
now, stranger, I takes it that where she were raised _cotton was
dreadful scarce."_ This, was too much and too good; and I think it is by
far the best thing I have heard about the exhibition. How the boys
managed to keep quiet, I know not; but they did as well as could be
expected. The room was thoroughly awake, and I resigned our countryman
to other hands.
After breakfast, we rode to the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise. This spot
has for centuries been celebrated for its beauty; and, for a period of
more than one hundred years, the Jesuits had a country residence here.
They had it early in the sixteenth century, or, perhaps, at the close of
the fifteenth. Louis XIV. made his confessor, Pere la Chaise, the
superior of the society; and in 1705 it was the head-quarters of
Jesuitism in France.
The present cemetery was consecrated in 1804; and the entire grounds are
walled in, and they are very nearly two hundred acres. You know how much
I admire Greenwood and Mount Auburn. Well, I still prefer them to this
Golgotha. The walks are some of them fine, but the tombs are too thick.
There is no regularity. It looks as though there had been a rain storm
of tombs and monuments, and they lie as they fell. This is the very
metropolis of death. Some of the monuments are elegant indeed, but often
their beauties are hidden. The most attractive spot to us was the
resting-place of "the bravest of the brave." Ney yet has no monument.
The tombs of Casimir Perrier, the Countess Demidoff, Abelard and
Heloise, General Macdonald, Lavalette, Gobert, Foy, Moliere, Laplace,
and Junot are some that pleased us most, and are exquisite specimens of
art. Many of these tombs have small rooms, with altars and glass doors.
Opposite the altar is a chair, and we saw several mourners in devout
attitude at the shrine of affection. I have heard from a Parisian of
great intelligence, and who has been connected with the city government,
that very nearly, if not quite, thirty millions of dollars have been
spent upon this cemetery. Of course, the expense of sculpture here has
been enormous, as the best talent of Europe has contributed to adorn the
spot, and perpetuate the memory of the departed.
On leaving this charnel-house of mortality, we drove to the Abattoir de
Popincourt, which is the largest in the city, and occupies six hundred
and forty-five feet by fire hundred and seventy. On entering, we found
four slaughter-houses, each standing alone. Here, too, are sheds for
four thousand sheep, and stables for four hundred oxen. There are also
four melting-houses. We also noticed a large building called the
_Triperie_, for preparing tripe and the feet of animals. The week we
were there the statistics of slaughter were as follows: Eight hundred
and seventy-two oxen, three hundred and fifty-six cows, seven hundred
calves, and two thousand eight hundred and seventy-five sheep. Nothing
of the sort can be kept cleaner than this establishment. The water ran
down every channel, and very little blood could be seen, or effluvia
noticed. When will New York have its _abattoirs_? No city in the world
needs such an auxiliary to health and comfort more than she does.
Perhaps the good people will call for one after a few more visitations
of cholera. There are four other similar establishments in Paris.
We had a nice ride home round the boulevards, and, stopping at the
consul's office, found a famous budget of letters and papers, and with
great pleasure we addressed ourselves to their contents. I am amused to
see how various are the demands made upon the time and services of a
consul. He needs to have the patience of Job; and if he answers
satisfactorily and authoritatively the questions which I have heard
propounded, he ought to have in his library the acts of every state
legislature in the Union. Marriage, death, removal of deceased
relatives from their places of sepulture, rates of interest, value of
stocks, condition of railroads, and statistics of all sorts have been
topics which I have heard laid before him for advice and opinion. Very
few men, however, possess more general knowledge of the United States
than our consul--Mr. Goodrich--does; and his kindness will lead him to
do all he can to satisfy the querist.
Yours, as ever,
J.O.C.
Letter 30.
PARIS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
Yesterday we went to the Cirque, in the Champs Elysees. It is a very
large building, with sixteen sides, and behind is another spacious one
for the horses. The intention of the builder was to represent a Moorish
hall; and the pillars of iron are, with the panellings of the walls,
gilt and frescoed. The roof is very elegant, and the largest chandelier
in Paris is in the centre, blazing with I cannot tell you how many gas
lights. The circus will accommodate about six or seven thousand people,
and when we were there it was very nearly full. We paid two francs each,
and had the best seats. The performances were very good, and some quite
beyond any thing I had before seen. There was one feat that was really
great. They placed planks upon supporters, from the centre of the circus
up to the edge of the gallery, making an angle of about fifty feet.
Well, Charley, a fellow walked in with a ball, about three quarters of a
yard in diameter, and on this ball he trotted about on the ground for
perhaps two minutes; then he marches it to the foot of this plank, still
standing on it, and up he goes,--yes, he totes and coaxes the ball under
his feet, up, up,--till at last he stands on it on the gallery; and
then, did not the place ring again with applause? But then it is not
over; for down he comes the selfsame way--and that is the tug of war;
but he did it. This he did _backwards_, also, each way. I never saw any
thing before that would equal this, and I want to see him do it again
before we leave Paris. The horsemanship was very good. But there was one
fellow who threw himself into the very oddest attitudes you can fancy.
He looked, as he moved about on the earth, like any thing but a human.
We were all much amused with the audience. Entire families were there.
You could see parties coming in where there was no mistake about
grandfather and grandmother, father, mother, and all the children. It
seems that all classes here have a taste for amusement, and pursue it
with much earnestness. The audience behaved very well--every thing was
quiet. I noticed a great many well-dressed women who carried round
crickets to the ladies, for their feet, and for this they got a few
sous.
As we returned, we found, in the grounds through which we walked, scores
of establishments for juvenile amusement--stalls where there are
exhibitions of moving figures, and at which you may shoot with bow and
arrow by paying a small price. Not far from the Cirque we met with an
out-door concert, in a very tasty garden--the performers all occupying a
fine orchestra. The audience were seated at tables in the garden, taking
ice cream, lemonade, coffee, &c. Now and then one of the singers would
pass round and take up a collection.
This day we went to the Hippodrome, which is a very large enclosure,
nearly opposite the Triumphal Arch. This is no less than three hundred
and eighty feet in diameter, and will seat all of ten thousand persons,
who are under shelter, but the course-ground is open to the heavens.
This place is open from three to five during the warm weather, and is
under the same management as the Cirque. Our great object in coming was
to see the ball feat again, and also the skirmishes of some twenty
Arabs, who are here exhibiting their tactics. I never saw a more
reckless, savage-looking set of fellows than they were. Only one looked
like a venerable Arab--he did look patriarchal. They had several sham
attacks, and rode about shooting helter skelter, looking as if they
would enjoy the real thing much better. These fellows are said to be
some of the Algerine captives brought over by the French. Our friend Mr.
Hodgson, who lived so long in Turkey, and speaks Arabic, talked with
them, much to their surprise.
We have determined to leave Paris this week, and commence our journey
through Belgium, Holland, go up the Rhine, and take Switzerland on our
return to Paris--and perhaps we may leave to-morrow. I ought not to omit
saying that we have had a very pleasant Sunday in our own parlor here.
We did not feel much like going to the French church that morning; and
the doctor invited the Rev. Dr. Murray, Dr. Chetwood, Rev. Mr. Darling,
Judge Darling, Rev. Mr. Hovey, Mr. King, and some other friends to join
us, and have a religious meeting. It was a very interesting one, too.
Dr. Murray spoke about the state of France, the need the French had of
our Sunday, and how they could not be a free and happy people, and get
along without soldiers, till they had it. All the ministers took part;
and I shall not very soon forget that day; and then I think we all
thought a good deal about home, as each minister talked and prayed for
our families.
Our next letters will, I suppose, be from Brussels.
Yours, &c.,
GEORGE.
Letter 31.
BRUSSELS.
DEAR CHARLEY:--
The fine weather, and the advantage of having pleasant company, has
induced us to leave Paris and pursue our journey, leaving many things to
see in the great metropolis when we return. I forgot to tell you that in
Paris I had the pleasure to meet an English clergyman, a relative of
mine, who was there passing the honey-moon. This gentleman and his lady
joined our party; and we are now to go together as far as Antwerp,
certainly. We took the rail from Paris direct to Brussels,--a distance
of two hundred and thirty miles,--and passed through Amiens, Arras,
Douai, Valenciennes, Quievrain, St. Jemappes,--here King Louis Philippe,
with General Dumourier, in 1792, gained a battle over an Austrian army,
and so gained Belgium to France, little thinking that his son-in-law
would be its king,--Mons, Bruin le Compte, Halle, and so to Brussels. At
Quievrain we found the custom-house of Belgium, and the little river,
called Aunelle, is the boundary of the republic. Mons is a fine-looking
place, fortified strongly. The region is one entire coal field, and
there are many pits in operation. Ten miles from Mons Marlborough fought
the battle of Malplaquet, in 1709. When we passed, the town was in
great commotion with the trial of Count Bocarme and his wife for the
murder of her brother. She was by some means acquitted, but he was
convicted and executed by the guillotine.
As soon as we entered Belgium, we were struck with the improvement of
the lands. The small towns look remarkably thrifty, and every place
seems to speak of manufactures and industry.
At Brussels, we put up at the Hotel Bellevue, in the Place Royale. The
situation is good. In a large square, and in front of our hotel, is the
magnificent statue, in bronze, of Godfrey, Duke of Boulogne, the cast of
which we so admired as the Crusader, in the exhibition. In this square
Leopold was inaugurated King of Belgium.
Every traveller enters Brussels with expectation of pleasure. He has
heard that it is Paris in miniature; and then Byron has thrown around it
his witchery of song. I can see but a dull and dim resemblance to Paris.
Brussels, with its suburbs, which are quite large, has only a population
of one hundred and thirty thousand. The town is very clean, looks cosy,
and has some very beautiful edifices. But you come here full of fancy
about "Belgium's capital," "her beauty and her chivalry," and the
"windowed niche of that high hall," and you see at first only a plain,
good, comfortable town. However, there is quite enough of romance,
after all, in this same place; and when you traverse it thoroughly, you
find enough to call out deep interest; and before you leave it you are
much gratified, and, in all probability, feel desirous to see it again.
I like to be in places that have a history; and this Brussels has. Let
me tell you about this place. It stands on the brow of a high bill, and
the upper and lower towns are different affairs entirely. The summit is
covered with palaces, public buildings, boulevards, parks, &c, and the
lower part is in the valley of the River Senne. Brussels was a city in
709. In 976, the Emperor Otho held his court there; in 1044, it was
fortified and had seven gates; in 1405, a fire destroyed fourteen
hundred houses; and in 1549, it suffered from two earthquakes. But still
it grew and flourished under the dukes of Burgundy, and became famous
for tapestry, lace, and fire-arms. In the days of Charles V., the city
of Brussels was at its zenith. Philip II., his son, and his infamous
general, the Duke of Alva, ravaged this city and vicinage. The people
were fanatical, and the rulers cruel. In 1695, the city was besieged,
and four thousand houses destroyed by the bombardment. In 1794, Belgium
was annexed to France. After the battle of Waterloo, the Prince of
Orange was proclaimed sovereign of Belgium. In 1830, the revolution
displaced the Orange dynasty, and Belgium broke off from Holland; and
in 1831, the people chose Leopold for their king. The first thing I
wanted to see was the Hotel de Villa, which, many years ago, pleased me
exceedingly; and I think all our party have been delighted with it. This
is the noblest civil building in Belgium; it stands in a fine square,
and is a glorious specimen of the Lombardy Gothic school. The spire is
of open fretwork, and the sun shines through it. It has long been
esteemed as one of the most precious works of architecture in Europe.
The extreme height is three hundred and sixty-four feet, and it was
erected in 1444. On the spire is a gilt statue of St. Michael, seventeen
feet high, which turns with the wind. In front of this town hall Counts
Egmont and Horn were executed, under the eye of Alva; but they were
nobly avenged by William of Orange. At the head of a very steep and
narrow street stands a most imposing structure. It is the Cathedral
Church of St. Gudule. The foundation was laid in 1010. The front view is
very much like that of Notre Dame, at Paris. This church is occasionally
called St. Michael's in old writers, as it had a double consecration to
the archangel and Gudule. The interior of this cathedral is very
impressive, although the architecture is simple. The pillars supporting
the roof are massive, and must receive the admiration of all spectators.
There are brackets attached to them, on which stand finely-executed
figures of the Savior, the Virgin Mary, and the Apostles, executed by
the following renowned sculptors: Vandelyn, Quellyn, Tobias, and
Duquesnoy. The pulpit is regarded as the finest in Europe, and is the
most elaborate composition of sculpture in wood that is extant. It is
the work of the great Verbruggen, and was originally executed for a
Jesuit society at Louvain, in 1699. The art is exquisite, and far
superior to the taste which is exhibited. The pulpit represents the
expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise by the angel. Death is seen in
pursuit of the guilty fugitives; and on the extreme summit is the Virgin
Mary, bruising the serpent's head with a cross. On the steps and
balusters are various beasts and birds; the owl, ape, and peacock are
conspicuous. We found preparations for a great church holiday, to be
observed the next day; and the Virgin Mary was gayly decked out in
embroidery, lace, and jewelry.
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