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PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR

VOLUME II

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IN ITS SPLENDOUR

E. A. REYNOLDS -BALL

Author of •• Cairo, the Cit^ of the Caliphs, " etc.

IN TWO VOLUMES

Volume II

JiittHlratrli

BOSTON

Sana iEatPB and (Eompami

PUBUSHERS

CONTENTS.

CHAPTBB FAOI

I. Monumental Paris (continued) • • • 1

IT. Monumental Fabis (continued) . • • 26

ni. Monumental Paris (concluded) ... 54

lY. The Madeleine and Notable Modbbn

Chubches 65

V. The Louvbb 82

VI. The Louvre (continued) and the Luxembouro 108

Vn. Public Parks and Gardens .... 125

Vni. Public Parks and Gardens (concluded) . 157

IX. The Boulevards and Caf^s . • . .186

X. Some Litebart Landmarks — Homes and

Haunts of Celebrities • • . • 208

XL Dramatic and Musical Paris . . . 237

Xn. Sports and Pastimes 267

Xm. Social Paris 280

XIY. Municipal and Legal Paris . • • . 298

XV. Some Side-shows of Paris • • • . 312

XVL The Paris Exhibition 326

XVII. The Frivolous Side of the Exhibition . 352

XVIIL Bibliographt 370

Index 879

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PilOB

NoTRK Dame (Photogravure) Frontispiece

Fountain of the Luxembourg (De L'Observatoire) . 12

KoTEE Dame Faqade 27

Pont au Change and Palais de Justice ... 86

Avenue du Bois de Boulogne 42

Salle des Stances in the Chamber of Deputies . . 60

Church of St. Mart Magdalene (La Magdaleine) . 66

La Sainte Chapellb 72

The New Louvre 84

The Luxembourg 118

Champs des J^ltsj^ss, Tuileries, and Plage du Car-
rousel 132

Avenue de L'OpfeRA 192

The Op^ra House 260

Tower of St. Jacques 266

Eiffel Tower 288

The Column of July, 1830 (Colonne de Juillet) . . 812

General Yisw of the Trocad£ro 324

Puis, YoL n.

PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

CHAPTER L

MONUMENTAL PABIS.
(Continued.)

YisnoBS to the Palais Bourbon are first conducted to
the Salle de la Paiz, where the ceiling painted by Horace
Yemet is tiie chief attraction. From this hall a passage
leads to the Salle du Trdne, where the mural paintings
are by Delacroix. The ceiling of the library is also
painted by this artist. The Salles Casimir-Ptfrier and
des Distributions are not very interesting. Next we
reach the Salle des Conferences. A noticeable feature
in the decorations of this hall is some flags taken at
Marengo, which surround tiie colossal statue of Henry
lY. For some reason tiiey were not sent to tile Inva-
lides with the other conquered standards, but presented
by Napoleon L to the Chamber, perhaps at a time when
he wished to conciliate the Corps L^gislatif. Many
unseemly disputes over the possession of these flags have
taken place between tile governor of the Invalides and
the president of the Chamber. The chagrin of the
former at the loss of the flags is probably intensified
by Ihe fact tiiat in 1814 most of the flags were vol-

2 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

untarily destroyed to prevent tiieir restoration by tile
Allies, so that tile Invalides (which certainly seems tile
natural repository for these trophies) possesses very few
regimental colours.

These halls are shown only during the parliamentary
vacation (usually from July to October), but admittance
to the Salle des Stances, the actual parliament chamber,
is easily obtained from a deputy, or on written applica-
tion to the Secretaire-General de la Questure. The
flag over the roof shows when Parliament is sitting.
The chamber is a semicircular hall, ornamented with
twenty-four columns of single blocks of white marble of
the I(niic order, having capitals of gilt bronze. The
principal mural decoration is a copy in tapestry of
Baphael's ^ School of Athens." The presidents tribune
is situated in the centre of tile axis of the semicircle,
around which rise in gradation tile seats for the 584
members, which are divided by gangways spreading
out fan-wise from tile president's seat as a centre. The
galleries contain places for the diplomatic body, the
Paris municipal council, the press, and strangers.

The arrangement of the seats is not very dissimilar to
tiiat of an ancient Greek theatre, and the tribune of the
orator as well as that of tile president faces the seats of
the deputies. Mr. J. E. 0. Bodley observes witii justice
that this arrangement does not altogether favour a
deferential attitude on the part of tile members toward
their president. The debater, who always speaks from
this tribune (situated immediately below that of the
president), does not address tile chair, but the house,
and, when the passions of tile auditory are aroused, its
cries and gesticulations are of course borne in the direc-

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 3

tion of tile president, and to an ignorant spectator in the
gallery during an excited debate, it wonld seem as if
there were two speakers on the platform, at bay with
an excited audience in front of them, equally hostile to
both!

Contrary to the rule which obtains in the English
House of Commons, each deputy has his appointed seat,
and the portions of the house are permanentiy reserved
for the different sections of opinion, quite irrespective of
the change of government. The broad divisions are
the right (i. e., on the right hand of the president),
comprising what is equivalent to the Conservative party,
the left, the Ultra-Republican party (Radicals, Socialists,
etc.), while in the centre, acting as a kind of buffer, sit
the moderate Republicans, witii the right centre and left
centre as connecting links. In short, ^^ the extremes of
opinion are on the end benches ; and the lessening shades
of difference meet and blend in the centre to form the
happy mean."

Voting is by ballot, each deputy placing a white (/or)
or blue (affoinst) card in the voting-urn* If a member
wishes to speak he must ascend the tribune and speak
from this prominent position.

The system of voting for deputies has varied since
1875, the date of the present constitution of the French
Republic. Up to 1885 the voting was by Bcrutin
^Tarrandiisement. From 1885 to 1889 the deputies were
elected by a Bcrutin de luUy which was introduced by
Oambetta. The meaning of this cryptac phrase is that
eadi department (which returns one deputy for each
seventy thousand inhabitants) is reckoned for voting
purposes as a single constituency, and each elector can

4 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

vote for as many candidatea as there are deputies allotted
to it For tiiis purpose tiie colonies rank as departments.

Since 1889, howeyer, tiie earlier method (ncrubhn
JParrandiiiemeni) has been adopted ; that is, each elector
can vote only for tile single candidate of the electoral
districtof seventy thousand inhabitants. The deputies are
paid X860 a year and have tiie right of travelling free
over all French railways. Deputies holding a portfolio
(ministers) are paid X 2,400 a year, with an official resi-
dence in Paris.

A great deal of tiie work of the Chamber is done in
the committee-rooms, which are all in the eastern wing
of the building, but these are closed to the public.
Many of the reports of tiie committees are not only of
great political value and interest, but are also of great
literary merit, for tiiey are often entrusted to some promi-
nent members who are also of high repute in the world
of letters. The reports of Thiers on the fortifications
of Paris, of Arago on art and science, and of Guizot
and Lamartine, for instance, are really literary mono-
graphs in the guise of government blue-book reports.

In tracing tile various stages a bill passes tiirough
before it can be inscribed in the stetute book, it is
necessary to understend the meaning of the bureaux into
which the whole Corps L^gislatif is divided. The radical
difference between the English and French parliamentary
systems is the division of the whole Chamber at the
beginning of each session into eleven bureaux. Indeed
this division into bureaux << is tile keystone of the
French system, the whole parliamentary procedure
depending on if

But before a bill is discussed by these eleven bureaux,

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 5

it has to pass through the ordeal of what is called a
committee of initiative (formed by two nominees from
each boreaa). The function of this committee is purely
formaL It has merely to decide if the bill is of sufficient
importance and of a suitable character to be submitted to
the bureaux. In short, the committee acts as a kind of
parliamentary grand jury. This stage is equivalent
more or less to the almost perfunctory first reading of a
bill in the English Parliament For the second stage
the bill is sent simultaneously to all tile eleven bureaux,
and it is then reported upon in detail by one or two
members nominated by each bureau. Then the report
is laid before the Chamber and the bill is debated upon
generally. This is equivalent to the second reading of
the English legislature, but in France this is tile final
stage, for there is nothing equivalent to a tiiird reading.
The law is considered to be operative as soon as it
appears in the Jmmal Cffieieh

These few details will perhaps help the casual visitor
to understand something of the internal economy and
procedure of the French Parliament, and will thus ren-
der a visit to the Palais Bourbon more interesting.

The Palais Bourbon marks the western limit of our
monumental explorations on the southern side of the
Seine, for, with the exception of the Invalides (which is
folly described in the chapter on churches, and its
armory in the museum chapter), there are hardly any
historic monuments farther west. It would, however,
be worth while to continue along the quais as far as the
Pont de Orenelle in order to see the beautiful bronze
copy of Bartholdi's colossal statue of Liberty at the
^^rance of New York Harbour, which has been erected

6 PABIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR,

here. It will be remembered that this famous statue
was the gift of the French nation to America. It was,
then, a graceful act on the part of the American colony
in Paris to present this beautiful bronze replica (reduced
to one fourth of the original) to France for the perma-
nent embellishment of its capital. It was unveiled in
the presence of large crowds, by President Camot, on
July 4 (Independence Day), 1889, amid the mingled
strains of the " Marseillaise " and " Hail, Columbia ! "

The district between the Esplanade des Invalides and
the Champ de Mars may be considered the exhibition
quarter, and great alterations and improvements have
recently been carried out here in view of the 1900
exhibition.

The new Pont Alexandre HI., named, of course, to
commemorate the visit of the czar to Paris in 1895, will
form a connecting link, across the Seine, of the new and
magnificent avenue which has been built to join the
Palais de I'lndustrie to the Palais des Invalides.

A new terminus of the Ceinture Railway is being built
on the Esplanade des Invalides, as this open space is to
be included in the exhibition grounds.

Facing the river front of the Palais Bourbon, at the
point of junction between the Boulevard St. Germain
and the Quai d'Orsay, is the Cercle Agricole, one of the
leading clubs of Paris. It is the resort of landed pro-
prietors. It is known by the familiar soubriquet Pommes
de Terre, just as the Union Artistique is usually called
the Mirlitons, and the Army and Navy Club, of London,
is almost invariably referred to by London club-men as
the Bag.

The Rue de Grenelle is one of the most interesting

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 7

streetB on the south side of the Seine. It takes a
direction eastward, nearly parallel with the Bonleyard
St Germain, and as many historic houses are situated
here, the sightseer will probably prefer it to tile latter
thoroughfare. It is easily reached from tile Palais
Bourbon by the Bue Bourgogne.

At No. 75, Rue de Orenelle, Talleyrand, one of the
most remarkable figures in French history, lived for
some years, when he held the office of foreign minister
under the Directory.

As is well known, Talleyrand began his career by
taking holy orders, and in 1788 was made Bishop of
Autun. He had been intended for the army, but was
prevented from adopting a military career by an extra-
ordinary accident when an infant. He had been left to
play about in a field by his nurse, who had strolled away
witii a lover, when he was attacked by a pig which so
mangled his legs that he was lamed for life.

Talleyrand was abeady more of a politician than a
divine, and in 1789 he represented the clergy of his
diocese as deputy to the resuscitated assembly of the
States General. Here he at once declared himself on
tbe popular side, and voted for the imion of the two
privileged orders (the nobles and the clergy) with the
Tiers l^tat, and practically for the absorption of these
two Estates when the Tiers '^t proclaimed itself a
National Assembly (June 17, 1789) in the famous Oath
of the Tennis Court At Robespierre's great Federation
fete of July, 1790, Talleyrand was one of the most
prominent figures, and celebrated mass on the altar of
his country. This was his last appearance as constitu-
tional bishop, for he resigned his see shortly afterward,

8 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

and accepted a diplomatic mission to Oreat Britain with
the hope of obtaining the neutrality of that power, but
he was unsuccessfuL

During the Terror Talleyrand was absent from France,
and was duly proscribed as an SmiffrS. Thanks to his
friendship with Barras, his return was rendered possible,
and he was made Minister of Foreign Affairs, and
Napoleon, when he was appointed, or rather appointed
himself, First Consul, retained him in this office.
Throughout tile First Empire, Talleyrand, though not
completely trusted by Napoleon, managed to retain his
post He was on one or two occasions dismissed from
office, but his services were soon found indispensable,
and on each occasion his fall was shortiy followed by a
recall. His first serious difference with his imperial
master was to the credit of this much-maligned minister.
It arose in connection with the treacherous execution of
the Due d'Enghien, in 1804 (a most flagrant breach
of international law as well as a grave crime against
humanity), which no doubt Talleyrand regarded — to
quote an aphorism popularly attributed to him — as
" worse tiian a crime, — a blunder."

After Napoleon's abdication Talleyrand at once went
over to the Bourbon party, and used all his influence
with the Senate to accept Louis XYHI. Louis, how-
ever, did not reward his services with high ministerial
office, for the Due de Richelieu replaced Talleyrand as
foreign minister, and the discomfited Talleyrand had to
be satisfied vrith the lucrative, but unimportant, post of
Grand Chamberlain.

When the revolution of 1880 broke out, Talleyrand,
with the remarkable intuition he possessed as to the

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 9

winning side, ranged himself on the side of the Due
d'Orleans (afterward Louis Philippe), and was ap-
pointed English ambassador. This office he held till
1884, and died four years afterward.

Such is a brief outline of the career of one of the
most remarkable statesmen and diplomatists France has
ever produced, though certainly not the greatest, for his
personal character was despicable, and the man who held
high offices under the Consulate, Directory, the Emperor
Napoleon, and three kings of France, has served as a by-
word for double-dealing, venaliiy, and unscrupulousness.
Still, as one who has played a great part in the world
of statecraft and diplomacy, Talleyrand has been for
France what Mettemich has been for Austria, Bismarck
for Germany, or Cayour for Italy.

In a tew incisive phrases his character and achieve-
ments are cynically summed up by Victor Hugo in
** Choses Vues : "

<< He was of noble descent like Machiavelli, a priest
like Gondi, unfrocked like Fouch^, witty like Voltaire,
and lame like the devil. In this palace, like a spider in
his web, he allured and caught in succession heroes,
thinkers, great men, conquerors, kings, princes, em-
perors, Bonaparte, Sieyds, Madame de Stael, Chateau-
briand, Benjamin Constant, Alexander of Russia,
William of Prussia, Francis of Austria, Louis XVIIL,
Louis Philippe ; all the gilded and glittering flies who
buzz through the history of the last forty years. All
this glistening throng, fascinated by the penetrating eye
of this man, passed in turn under that gloomy entrance
upon the architrave of which is the inscription < Hdtel
Talleyrand!'"

10 PABI8 IN IT8 8PLEND0UB.

It is, however, probably aa a maker of epigrams and
cynical maxims that Talleyrand will go down to pos-
terity. Of course many witticisms have been &tiiered
on Talleyrand of which he was not the author, but Uxe
same may be said of Douglas Jerrold or Sydney Smith,
or, indeed, of any great humourist Some of his sallies
are indeed proverbial, such as his eulogy of whist, and
what is supposed to have been the ruling principle of his
diplomatic methods, — ^ Language was given to man in
order to conceal his thoughts."

<^ Talleyrand,'' wrote one who knew him well, ^ spoke
littie, but with exquisite delicacy said all that it was
necessary to say with precision and politeness. He
defined a situation by a word ; terminated a discussion
by a phrase." What could be more to the point than
his retort to a friend who had remarked that Thiers was
a parvenu f "Not parvenu^ but arriv^y But if some
well known bons mots are incorrectly attributed to Tal*
leyrand, it must be remembered that, besides being a wit
himself, he was occasionally the cause of wit in another.
When Talleyrand was on his death-bed, Louis Philippe
went to visit him. ^^Je Bouffre lea taurments cTet^erj^
groaned tiie moribund diplomatist " D^if** the king is
reported to have said. So far as concerns the king, how-
ever, the story is palpably apocryphal. A caustic wit
like Dean Swift might possibly have been guilty of such
a brutal retort, but certainly not the genial Citizen King.

A short distance beyond the intersection of the Rue
du Bac (also a street in which many notabilities have
lived, among them Chateaubriand, Fouch6, and Count
Montalembert) is the Fontaine de Grenelle, one of the
finest of tile many monuments of this kind in Paris. It

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 11

was demgned in 1788 by Edm^ Boachardon, who him-
aelf executed the figures, bas-reliefs, and other orna-
ments. The fountain is only a small portion of the
monument, which is built on the colossal scale in vogue
among the architects and sculptors of Louis XY. It is
in the form of a crescent nearly a hundred feet long and
nearly forty in height. In front of an Ionic portico is
an allegorical marble group. The statue in the centre
represents Paris, while on either side are two figures
symbolising the two rivers of the capital, the Seine and
the Mame. On the pedestal is the usual florid inscrip-
tion from the city of Paris to the glory of Louis XY.,
^Qxe father and delight of the nation, who, witiiout
bloodshed, has extended the frontiers of France." This
fountain is well worth visiting by tiiose fond of archi-
tecture, as the design is quite different from that of any
other fountain in Paris.

We will conclude our explorations in tiie southern
quarter by a visit to the observatory, a littie south of tiie
Luxembourg Oardens, which is conveniently reached by
the handsome new Boulevard Baspail to tiie Place Den-
fert Bocherean. This place had formerly the ill sound-
ing titie of Place d'Enfer, but it has been since the
Franco-Prussian war named after tile heroic defender of
Belfort, the one French city besieged by Prussia which
withstood all the efforts of the German armies and re-
mained untaken throughout the war. This place is
appropriately decorated with a magnificent copper re-
plica (of course reduced) by Bartholdi of the famous
^ Lion of Belfort," to commemorate the gallant defence
of this city in 1870-71.

The observatory, which is so conspicuous from the

12 PABI8 IN IT8 8PLEND0UB.

Luxembourg (rardens, is a handsome building designed
by Claude Perrault, the architect of the famous Louvre
Colonnade, in 1667. It is a striking-looking building,
and though it has been considerably enlarged in the
present century, the original design has been retained.
It is one of the largest and best equipped observatories
in Europe, and well worth visiting even by those who
are not students of astronomy. The four sides of the
building correspond exactly with tile four cardinal
points, so that the observatory, which is a conspicuous
object from most parts of Paris, will enable a visitor to
take his bearings easily during his wanderings in the
capital. The latitude of the southern side serves in the
official cartography of France for the latitude of Paris,
so that the Paris meridian cuts the building into two
equal parts. This meridian line is traced on the floor
of a room on the second story, from which French as-
tronomers count their longitude ; its direction is marked
by an obelisk at Montmartre, near the Basilica of the
Sacrtf Coeur, and if prolonged north and south would
reach Dunkirk on the North Sea and Collioure on the
Mediterranean. On this line the observations were made
for determining the length of the arc of the terrestrial
meridian between the equator and the north pole. The
ten-millionth part of this length has been adopted for
the metre, or standard linear measure in France.

Most of the work of the astronomers is done in the
eastern wing, where are most of the apparatus and in-
struments. In this wing is the famous revolving dome
with apertures for the telescopes, so that the astronomer
can follow the revolutions of the stars from the same
spot all through the night. A new gigantic telescope

ft ; ATI^IH

B • I V]^H

i^K,(iff 1

i 1

^!f

•m

Jtm

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en
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MONUMENTAL PABI6. 13

was erected here in 1876 by M. Eichens, to the cost of
which M. Bischoffsheim contributed twenty-six thousand
francs. It is one of the six largest telescopes in the
world. The tube is over fifty feet long, and the mirror
alone (which is nearly five feet in diameter) cost £2,000.

The admirable strategic position of the observatory,
isolated on all sides and commanding an important
boulevard, caused it to be seized and occupied by the
Communards as a military position in May, 1871. When
they were dislodged by the government troops they
attempted to destroy the building. Fortunately tiie in-
struments were not much damaged, though the great
equatorial was riddled with bullets.

Fountains seem a favourite form of monumental street
decoration in Paris, and on the Avenue de TObserva-
toire, half-way between the observatory and the Luxem-
bourg Gardens, is certainly the handsomest fountain
which has been erected in the present century in the
capital. The eight prancing sea-horses by Carpeaux,
admirably executed in cast iron, which guard the foun-
tain, are particularly fine. The fountain is crowned by a
group of genii (representing the four quarters of the
globe) supporting the world.

The poor and ineffective bronze statue of Marshal
Ney, which has been erected near the fountain, on the
spot where he met his death, suffers much by contrast
with this beautiful monument The pose is stiff, and the
open mouth (a detail intended by the sculptor to give
verisimilitude to the attitude of the marshal, who is
supposed to be ordering a chai^) is particularly inar-
tistic. Altogether this statue is one of the least satisfac-
tory of any of Bude's works. Considering that Marshal

14 PABia IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

Ney is famous ohieflj as a leader of cayalry, an eques-
trian statue would haye been far more appropriate.
Besides, the advisability of having a statue at all to com-
memorate one who, although a great soldier and the
^ bravest of the brave/' was indisputably a traitor to
bis country, is open to question. It might be supposed,
too, that if a statue must be erected to the marshal's
memory, a more appropriate site would be the Invalides,
rather than the spot where he suffered an ignominious,
but not unmerited, death.

Though Ney had been but a half-hearted supporter of
the restored Bourbon dynasty, he had accepted a high
command in the royal army. On the news of Napoleon's
landing in the south of France, Ney was ordered by Mar-
shal Soult, Minister of War, to crush the revolt Before
starting on this commission the marshal had a private
interview with Louis XYIII., when he solemnly swore to
bring the rebel Napoleon to Paris in an ^iron cage."
Soon after arriving at Besan^n, Ney, ascertaining the
trend of public opinion and finding that the troops in bis
command were wavering in their loyalty to the Bourbon
dynasty, and knowing that the population had sided with
Napoleon in his triumphal march from Golfe de Juan to
Grenoble, decided to betray his sovereign and throw in
his lot with his former chief. It is possible that if he
had contented himself with offering merely bis sword to
Napoleon, the extreme penalty of death would not have
been inflicted upon him. But he publicly, at the head
of his troops, summoned them to desert the cause of
Louis XYIII., and in the public square of Lons-le-Saunier
he read, on Mareh 14th, the following stirring proclam-
aticMi, which had been directly inspired by Napoleon :

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 15

^ Officers, onder-officeTB, and Boldiera, the canoe of the
Bonrbona la loat for ever. The dynasty adopted by
the French nation is about to re-ascend the tiurone.
To the Emperor Napoleon, our soyereign, alone belongs
the right of reignii^ for oar dear country. Let the Bour
bon nobility make up its mind to leave the country once
more, or consent to Utc in the midst of us. What in
either case does it matter? The sacred cause of liberty and
independence will suffer no more from tiieir fatal hands.
They wished to tarnish our military glory, but they
made a mistake. This glory is the fruit of actions too
noble ever to be forgotten. Soldiers, these are no longer
the times in which nations can be governed by stifling
their rights. Liberty triumphs at last, and Napoleon,
our august emperor, will establish it on durable foun-
dations. Henceforth this cause shall be ours and that
of France. Let the brave men I have the honour to
command take this truth to their hearts.

^Soldiers, I have often led you to victory. I will
now conduct you to that immortal phalanx which the
Emperor Napoleon is leading toward Paris, and which
will arrive there within a few days, when our hopes and
our happiness will be for ever realised. Long live the
emperor ! "

From the first words of the proclamation it was
evident tiiat the troops required no further persuasion ;
they burst out into frantic exclamations of loyalty to
tiie emperor, and the citizens showed themselves as
enthusiastic as the soldiers.

After the irreparable defeat of Waterloo, where Ney
is represented by historians of the campaign as showing
the most devoted courage and ardour, and, when he

16 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLBKD0UB.

foond the battle was going in favour of the Allies, evi-
dently seeking death, Ney was brought before the
Chamber of Peers, at the Luxembourg, and, by a large
majority, sentenced to death. Amongst those peers who
voted for his death a good many were of Napoleon's
creation.

Public opinion as to the justice of the sentence was
divided. Certainly there is this to be said in favour of
leniency, that tiie Duke of Wellington himself, who
would be tiie last person to condone disloyalty and
rebellion against constituted authority, approached Louis
XYin. with a view of getting the marshal's life spared.
The king, however, was inexorable, and early on the
morning of December 7th, Ney was taken from his
prison in the Luxembourg to the spot in the Avenue de
rObservatoire which is now marked by his statue, and
shot In his last words the marshal protested his inno-
cence, and appealing to Ood and posterity, he died,
pierced to tiie heart by half a dozen bullets. Till 1868
the fatal spot was marked by a commemorative tablet
let into the wall, and it was reserved for Napoleon in.
to inaugurate the statue to the memory of his uncle's
great general.

Between tiie Luxembourg and the Boulevard St
Oermain lies the medical and educational quarter of
Paris, and within a few hundred yards of the palace
are situated the ^cole de M^decine (the largest and
most important institution of its kind in France),
^cole Pratique de M^ecine (laboratories, lecture halls,
theatres, dissecting-rooms of the £cole de M^decine),
Clinique d' Accouchement, and several large hospitals;
the Sorbonne, CoUdge de France, ^cole de Droit, l^le

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 17

Nonnale Sup^rieure (training college for lycfie and
other professors), and several important Ijc^es.

Most of these institutions scarcely, perhaps, come
within the purview of the ordinary sightseer, and,
indeed, are not open to the lay visitor unless introduced.
The Colldge de France, the ]^ole Polytechnique, and
the ^cole de M^decine are, however, of some general
interest, and a short description of these institutions
may not be out of place. The Sorbonne, of course, is
one of tiie recognised sights, but an account of this
building has already been given in one of the chapters
on churches.

The ]^ole de M6decine is a huge structure with some
architectural pretensions, abutting on the Boulevard St
Germain. The older portion of the buildings (for there
have been considerable enlargements the last few years)
stands on the site of the Hdtel de Bourgogne, and dates
from the days of Louis XY., the first stone having been
laid in 1769. The main building consists of four blocks
and a central courtyard, and the style may best be
described as severely classical. The principal entrance
fronts the boulevard, and here a new fafade has been
built by Oinain, based on the famous western fa9ade of
tiie Palais de Justice. Flanking the main entrance are
two colossal caryatides by GraiiJL, representing Medicine
and Surgery. In the principal courtyard is a rather
inferior statue, by David d' Angers, of Bichat, the cele-
brated anatomist and physiologist, counting the pulsations
of a youth. The amphitheatre is one of the largest pos-
sessed by any institution of the kind, and will seat 1,400
students. It contains a large painting, to tell the truth,
of greater professional than artistic interest It repre-

18 PABia IN ITS SPLXNDOUB.

sentB Ambroise Par6 practising for the first time the
lying of an artery after amputation.

The museum (Mus^e Orfila), though scarcely attractive
to the lay visitor, yet contains one or two curiosities of
the Mus^e Grevin or Madame Tussaud's type. There is
a collection of casts of heads of criminals^ including that
of Fieschi, which shows the skull fractured by his own
infernal machine.

The ]^ole de M^decine is the seat of the Paris Faculty
of Medicine, and combines the functions not only of our
College of Physicians and College of Surgeons but of a
medical training universily as well. The title of pro-
fessor at the Faculty of Medicine is the highest that a
French physician or surgeon can obtain, and corresponds
to the ibglish president of the Royal College of Physi-
cians or president of the Boyal College of Surgeons.
There are over thirty professors of the different branches,
and some 1,500 students, of whom about 240 annually
take the degree of D. M. P. (Doeteur de MSdeeine de
Parte). The average cost in fees to each student
amounts to little more than J&50 for the whole course.

The l^ole de M^decine, with its annex, tiie ^cole
Pratique (which contains over fifty lecture halls and
sixty sets of laboratories), is said to be tiie largest
medical institution of the kind not only in France but
in the world.

The Colldge de France, which seems a comparatively
small building for so celebrated a foundation, faces the
Sorbonne, which is the seat of the University of Paris
(previous to 1896 called the University of France), and
a stranger might naturally suppose it was a mere annex
or euceureale of the Sorbonne. It has, however, no

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 19

oonnection with the famous foundation of Richelieu, but
is a separate, self-supporting institution. It was founded
by Francis I. in 1580. The lectures, which are free to
the public of both sexes, have been given by many
famous professors, among them being Michelet, Quinet,
and Ernest Benan.

There are three great teaching foundations of France
for ** superior instruction,'^ the University of Paris, the
Sorbonne, and the CoUdge de France. The latter is an
independent institution, where lectures by the most
eminent professors in France are delivered free to all
comers. The university's only function (like that of the
London University) is the conferment of degrees. <^ The
Sorbonne, when it does not mean the building of that
name, is used to denote collectively the three faculties
of which the Sorbonne may be considered the head-
quarters. As regards secondary instruction, the lyc^es
are public schools maintained by the state ; the colleges,
public schools supported by the municipalities through-
out France. In the innumerable colleges, of which
every provincial town of the least importance possesses
one, the studies are absolutely identical; a source of
infinite satisfaction to a certain minister of public in-
struction, who is reported one day to have exclaimed,
* It is gratifying to reflect that at this moment, in every
collie of France, the opening lines of the second book
of the Aeneid are being construed ! '

^ It should be noted that all the lyceums or govern-
ment schools are in Paris, with the exception only of
the lyceums of Versailles. As regards the localisation
of schools and academies of all kinds, it will be observed
that the French system is entirely opposed to the Eng-

20 PARI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

hah. Oar public schoolB, like our uniyersities, are in
provincial towns ; thoae of France are all concentrated
in the capital.

«< The idea of one anirersity directing all public in-
struction in France, and taking its orders from one
central authority, the minister of public instruction,
suited admirably the views of the first Napoleon, who
maintained, with improvements of his own, the educa-
tional system introduced during the Revolution."

The distinction between these various institutions is
well defined by Mr. Sutherland Edwards in the above
passage, but it must be remembered that since this was
written some important changes have been made in the
educational establishments of France. In 1896 the
great provincial academies (Toulouse, Montpellier, Or-
leans, Nantes, Bordeaux, etc.) were raised to the rank
of independent universities and consequently the title
of University of France had to be changed to its original
titie of University of Paris. But the Sorbonne still re-
mains the seat of the university. Degrees are granted
in five faculties, letters, science, theology, jurisprudence,
and medicine, the two last having separate buildings or
colleges, ^cole de Droit and iScole de M^decine (see
above).

The famous l^le Polytechnique is dose to St
Etienne, and occupies the site of the College de Navarre
built in 1304 by Philippe le Bel. The new facade,
fronting the Bue Monge (a street named after the
founder), is one of the most elegant in Paris. The
Polytechnique, besides being the equivalent of our
Woolwich, serves also as the training college for the
civil service. Though there is much to interest the

MONUMENTAL PABIS. 21

▼iaitor here, admittance is diflBcolt to obtain, requiring
a special order from the Minister of War. The fine
fourteenth century chapel of the old college can, how-
ever, be seen by applying to flie concierge.

^ The Polytechnique was founded in 1796, and much
altered in 1862. There are about five hundred and
fifty pupils, who are admitted by competition ; and the
French always mention the name with a sort of admira-
tion for the talent which the admission and education
are supposed to guarantee. The pupils must be under
twenty on admission, and continue there two years ; at
the end of the time tiiere is an examination, and they
have the choice of entering certain government services,
according to the place they have attained. The pupils
at the head of the list, by order of merit, generally
select the schools of mines and of civil engineers
(pontB-et-chaiiss6es), the telegraphs, the military
engineers (g^nie), tobacco manufactory, etc.; the
artillery and staff corps of the army (^t-Major)
fall to tiie lot of the least advanced. The pupils are,
or were, ardent politicians; in 1880 and 1848 they
distinguished themselves on the insurgent side.''

All the principal outdoor sights and curiosities of
Paris which can come under the category of monu-
mental — and unquestionably all the recognised sights of
the foreign tourist — have now been described, if not
adequately, at all events as fully as space allows.
There are, however, a few monuments which, being
either beyond the foregoing itineration, or of minor
importance, have not been noticed.

Keeping in view then the requirements of unwearied
and indefatigable tourists who wish to leave nothing

22 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

^ undone/' I will now devote a little space to the most
interesting of tiiese monnments.

The most nnobsenrant trayellere will probably have
noticed that Paris abounds more than any other Euro-
pean capital in statues, fountains, and other public monu-
ments, — in fact, I believe that as many as half a
hundred of these memorials may be found within the
walls of Paris. The best and most important of these
have been described.

In the Latin Quartier excursion, when visiting the
Polytechnique, tiiere were several statues which might
have been inspected with little loss of time. There is
one to Voltaire (another one near the institute) in the
Place Monge (named after the founder of the Poly-
technique), and in the same square is anotiier bronze
statue in memory of tiie famous poet, Fran9ois Villon,
and one of Louis Blanc, the historian of the Bepublique.

Close to the Place Monge is a place of the greatest
interest to antiquarians, though very few tourists visit the
spot or have even heard of it, as ttie guide-books barely
mention it The official title is Ardne de Paris, and the
place consists of the remains of a Gallo-Roman amphi-
tiieatre, dating from the time of the Palais des Thermos.
The ruins were discovered only in 1870, and the trau-
vaiUe is perhaps the most important, from an antiquarian
point of view, of any which have been brought to light in
Paris in the present century. Its discovery will probably
upset several theories as to the topography of the ancient
Lutetia. The ground has been bought by the municipal-
ity, and the work of systematic excavation is not yet
concluded.

One of the finest of colossal groups of monumental stat-

MONUMENTAL PABIS. 23

nary is at the Place de Clichy, near the Gare St Lazare.
It was erected in honour of Marshal Moncey, who made
a gallant stand agauist the troops of the Allies at the
Barridre de Clichy in 1814. This is the subject of
Horace Vemefs masterpiece, which we have seen at the
Louvre. The monument represents the marshal defend-
ing the flag which France holds, while at the foot is a
wounded soldier. The bronze group by Doublemard,
which is nearly twenty feet high, stands on a granite
pedestal even more lofty. The monument was erected in
1870, and, by an ominous coincidence, it was inaugu-
rated on the very day following the fateful battle of
Weissenburg.

Another monument, yery di£Ferent in character, which
is also beyond our itinerary, but which is worth a special
visit, is the Memorial Chapel of St Ferdinand at the end
of the Avenue de la Grande Arm6e, near the Porte Mail-
lot, erected on the spot where Ferdinand, Duke of
Orleans (eldest son of Louis Philippe and father of the
Ck>mte de Paris), died from the e£Fects of a carriage
accident on July 18, 1842. ^The duke was on his
way to the camp at St Omer when, as his carriage
approached the Porte Maillot, the horses took fright
The duke endeavoured to get out of the carriage, but,
his feet becoming entangled in his cloak, he was precip-
itated to tiie ground, and his head was dreadfully
fractured. He was conveyed to the house of M. Lecor-
dier, a grocer, where the same afternoon he breathed his
last in the presence of his family. The house in which
the duke expired, with some adjoining property, was
purchased by the Crown, and on its site Hxe present
chapel, dedicated to St Ferdinand, was built

24 PABia IN ITS 8PLSND0UB.

<< The building resembles an ancient mausoleam. On
the high altar is a Descent from the Cross, in marble,
by Triqueti. On the left is another altar, dedicated to
St Ferdinand, and corresponding to it on the right is a
marble group representing the prince on his death-bed.
E^neeling at his head is an angel in fervent supplica-
tion, as if imploring the divine commiseration on the
sufferer. The monogram MO reveals that this beautiful
< spirit ' was the work of his deceased sister, the Prin-
cess Marie, who little thought for whose tomb she was
executing it! The remainder of the group is by
Triqueti, after a drawing of M. Ary Scheffer. Under-
neath is a bas-relief representing France leaning over a
funereal urn, deploring her great loss ; the French flag
is at her feet. This monument stands on the spot where
the prince breathed his last In the sacristy of the
chapel, opposite the door, is a picture of the size of
life, by M. C. Jacquand, representing the death scene.
In the centre is the duke stretched on a bed, his
head supported by the physicians ; his father is kneeling
opposite, eyeing him with the stupor of grief. The
queen and Princess Clementine are kneeling beside
the bed, while the Dukes d'Aumale and Montpensier,
Marshals Soult and Gerard, and the Cur^ of Neuilly
form an affecting group on the left The other persons
present are Generals Atthalin, Gourgaud, de Bumigny,
the Due de Pasquicr, JL ilartin (du Nord), md ^l
Guizot"^

»OaUgiiaoi'a *' Parte Oulda.''

CHAPTER n.

MONUMKNTAL PABIB.
(^CantmuedJ)

It will greatly add to the interest aad the adequate
appreciation of these topographical excursions, and
especially of that to the He de la Cit6, if we bear in
mind the following facts about the genesis and develop-
ment of Paris. It is very necessary to differentiate
between three cities of Paris, for Roman Paris (the
ThermSej once the palace of Julian) need not be consid-
ered, the remains are so scanty. (1) Medisval Paris
(He de la Cit^). (2) Mediaoval suburban Paris, tiie
southern bank (University, — the Latin Quarter). (8)
Renaissance Paris (Louvre, Tuileries, etc.). This rough
division of historic Paris may serve as a mnemonic key,
but of course the topographical as well as chronological
** zones " overlap.

From tiie Louvre the He de la Cit^ is most conven-
ientiy reached by the Pont Neuf, probably the best
known to the tourist of all the twenty-nine bridges by
which the Seine is crossed. Pont Neuf, too, is consid-
ered the popular bridge of Paris, and corresponds in
some measure to Waterloo or Westminster Bridges in
London. Notwithstanding its name, it is the oldest
stone bridge in Paris, as, in spite of the thorough over-
hauling in 1853 and the restoration of the southern

26 PAEia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

portion in 1866, it is substantially the veritable bridge
built in the reign of Henry lY. Pont Neuf is therefore
of some historical interest, and it is especially attractive
to artists on account of tiie fine view it affords of tiie
Louvre. For this fine view, it seems, we are actually
indebted to the seathetic soul of Henry lY., who refused
to allow houses to be built upon the bridge, as was cus-
tomary in those times, because it would obscure the
view of his favourite palace. Shops and booths were,
however, erected here in flie reign of Louis XY., and re-
mained till tiie first years of Napoleon IIL, when they
were all ruthlessly swept away.

Half-way across, tiie magnificent statue of Henry lY.,
almost as celebrated as the bridge itself, arrests the eye.
This famous equestrian statue has had rather an event-
ful history. The original bronze statue, tiie work of
Italian sculptors, was completed in 1618, and the pedes-
tal was adorned by statues of four slaves (now preserved
in the Louvre). The statue, raised to the memory of
the greatest of Ihe Bourbon kings, was naturally particu-
larly offensive to the sana-eulottes of 1792, who overturned
it from its pedestal and melted it down to make cannon,
— the usual destiny of bronze statues at that period.
The present statue was erected by public subscription in
1818 and unveiled with great ceremony by Louis XYHL
Within the pedestal is enclosed a magnificent copy of
Yoltaire's ^^ La Henriade." The bronze of the statue
is cast — perhaps by way of retaliation — from two
Napoleonic statues, Napoleon on the Yenddme Column
(see above) and General Desaix from the monument in
the Place des Yictoires. The two bronze reliefs on the
pedestal represent, on the southern side, the king distrib-

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 27

otiiig bread to the besieged ParisianB, and, on the
northern aide, the proclamation of peace from the steps
of Notre Dame.

To reach the Palais de Justice, we cross the Place
da Danphine, where some picturesque old houses still
remain, affording good material for the sketch-book.
This place affords *^ a characteristic example of tiie
domestic Paris of the period before Baron Haussmann."
Many of the houses are of the seventeenth century, for
tiiough the lie de la Cit6 was tiie nucleus of mediseval
Paris, no ancient domestic buildings remain. In fact,
with the exception of Notre Dame, the whole of this
islet is occupied by the huge modem public buildings
of the Palais de Justice, its annex the Prefecture de
Police, and tiie Hdtel Dieu.

The huge pile, the Palais de Justice, which occupies,
if we include its dependencies (the Prefecture de Police
and the Tribunal de Commerce), a wider area even than
oar own law courts in London, fills one-third of the total
surface of the He de la Cit6. It is bounded on tiie east by
the Place du Dauphine, on the west by the fine open
space known as the Boulevard du Palais, while nortii and
south it extends the whole breadth of tiie island, tiie
northern front (the oldest part) on the Quai de THorloge,
and the southern front on the Quai des Orfdvres. The
visitor should be careful to bear in mind these respective
boundaries, and tiien he will be able to understand the
topography of this vast square block of buildings. To
those with architectural and archaeological knowledge,
the Palais de Justice offers a strange agglomeration of
architectural styles, from the medieval towers of the
Condergerie on the north side, to the new buildings

28 PABI8 IN rra splmndoub.

facing liie Plaoe dn Danidime, oonatnicted by H. Dao
during 1857-1868, and the principal fa^e, fronting
the Bonlevard da Palais, boilt by the same architect
in 1877.

The Palais de Justice was originally the palace of tibe
French kings and the seat of the Parliament (which
corresponds more to a coort of justice tiian a parliament
in the modem sense of tiie term), bc^un by Hugues
Capet, and the substructure of a portion of the northern
facade and of the Ck>nciergerie and Horloge Tower are
practically all tiiat remain of the mediaaval palace.
Some antiquarians claim a still older origin for the
Palais de Justice, and on the strength of Roman remains
(now in the Cluny Museum) discovered during the restora-
tion, consider that a Roman temple or basilica once existed
here. The palace, in turn a Prankish fortress, a bastile,
a royal palace, and the seat of the Parliament or Supreme
Court, has been associated so closely with stirring epi-
sodes of French history for nearly a tiiousand years, that
a visitor, endowed with imagination and the historic
sense, will find this building one of the most interesting
monuments of Paris. The following short outiine of the
evolution of the Palais de Justice, in part borrowed from
Mr. Sutherland Edwards^s graphic pen, may perhaps be
amply sufficient for ordinary visitors.

Its history begins, so far as can be accurately ascer-
tained, with the ninth century, when it was used as a
residence by the Prankish kings. Afterward the Counts
of Paris seem to have made the castie their favourite
headquarters, and it was occasionally occupied by the early
Capetian kings. Philip Augustus, during the rebuilding
of the Louvre, made tiie palace his temporary home, and

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 29

it was here that his marriage took place with the sister
of King Canute (or, as historians of the modem school
prefer to call him, Cnut). It was daring this reign that
the king's tribunal took the name of Parliament Louis
IX. formed the first royal library in the palace, and with
the assistance of the Parliament occasionally (during
the brief intervals when he was not on a crusade) dis-
pensed justice personally to his subjects. Philip the
Fair enlarged the palace, and installed the Parliament
permanently in the building. It had up to this period
senred as a kind of court of assize and accompanied tiie
king from one royal castle to anotiier. The members,
in short, acted as a kind of ambulatory privy council.
Charles 7. put up the magnificent clock on the tower,
thereafter called, in consequence. Tour de FHorloge.
This is the very clock (restored in 1852) which, with
its embellishments, now forms such a picturesque feature
of the Palais de Justice. It is said to be the oldest pub-
lic clock in France.

In this palace Charles YI. entertained Palsologus,
M Emperor of the East," and Sigismund, King of Hun-
gary. A characteristic story is told of the latter's visit
to the Parliament He had expressed a wish to be pres-
ent at an actual suit of law. At the beginning of the
action Si^smund horrified the courtiers by seating him-
self on the seat reserved for the king. One of the parties
in the case was about to lose his action because he was
not of noble birth, whereupon, in a spirit of equity and
chivalry by no means appreciated by the court tiie Hun-
garian sovereign rose from his seat and then and there
made the litigant, who was about to lose his action
through no fault of his own, a knight This, of course,

30 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

changed the whole complexion of the case, and the
foreign king's prot£g6 won his canse.

In the same reign the PrincesB Catherine, daughter
of Charles VI., was married in the palace to Henry Y.
of England. From the beginning of the fifteenth centary
the kings began to desert the island palace for one of the
new residences on the north side of the Seine, the Bas-
tile, the Louvre, and Hfitel St. Paul, while the palace
of the Cit^ became the home of the Parliament, hay-
ing been formally presented to the latter by Charles
VII. in 1481.

The ordinary dwellers in the ancient city began about
this period to shift their homes to the northern suburb,
for the thirteenth century marks the first important
expansion of Paris. In 1618 broke out the first of the
great fires which have so seriously damaged the fabric
of the Palais de Justice, and nearly all that remained of
the ancient building was the prison, or Conciergerie, and
the so-called ^ Kitchens of Saint Louis." In the fire of
1787, the beautiful Gothic hall near the Sunte Chapelle
forming the Chamber of Accounts was totally destroyed.
In 1776 another fire seriously injured the building, and
it was again in great part reconstructed.

Finally a thorough restoration and a considerable
enlargement was decided upon by Napoleon III. in 1854,
and this great work was continued under the Second
Empire, and finally completed (with the exception of the
western facade ; see above) in 1868. The cost of these
restorations alone amounted to about £1,000,000. This
seems an enormous sum, especially when it is remem-
bered that the whole cost of construction of the magnifi-
cent London «< Palace of Justice," from first to last, did

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 31

not exceed tbis. Such in brief is the history of the
Palais de Justice.

The Tour de THorloge was erected in 1858 and is an
admirable copy of the original one of 1686. In this
tower is still preserved the famous silver Tocsin dn -
Palaisy which is said to have repeated the dread signal
from the belfry of St Germain PAuxerrcic (see above)
for the Massacre of St Bartholomew. The next tower
is called Tour de Montgomery, after the unfortunate
Scotch mercenary who was executed for having ac-
cidentally killed Henry II. in a tournament on the
Place des Yosges. Between this and the next tower
(Tour de C^sar) is the entrance to the Conciergerie.

The substructure of these towers is ancient, only the
Tour de Montgomery having been destroyed in the 1776
fire, while the Tour de C6sar, and a third tower, known
as Tour Bomb^e or Tour d' Argent (distinguished by its
battlements), was destroyed when the Communist in-
cendiaries set fire to the Palais de Justice in 1871.
It is said the chief aim of these insurgents, recruited
largely from those who had escaped from prison, was
to destroy the civil and criminal archives, which were
kept in this part of the building.

The chief attraction for sightseers in tiie Palais de
Justice, next to the Sainte Chapelle (already fully de-
scribed), is undoubtedly the Conciergerie, the ancient
prison of the palace, which is still used as a place of
confinement for prisoners awaiting trial. To none of
the numerous prisons of the Terror, prolific as they are
in tragic and pathetic associations, does a greater senti-
mental interest attach than to the dungeon in which the
heroic Marie Antoinette spent her last days. After a

32 PARI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

captivity of nearly a year in the Temple, the ill-fated
queen was removed, on the 5th of August, 1792, to a
dark cell in the basement of the Tour Bomb^, lighted
from the courtyard by a single loophole of a window.
Here, watched day and night by gendarmes, she re-
mained till October 16, 1798, when she was taken
before the Revolutionary tribunal, sitting in what is
now the Cour de Cassation, — the door of the stair-
case leading from tiie cells to tiie hall is still shown.
The next day tiie daughter of the Cssars left her cell
for ever, to be conveyed in a rough tumbril to the guillo-
tine, on the Place de la Concorde.

This historical dungeon, which H. Yitu feelingly de-
clared ^ could not contain the tears which it has caused
to be shed, and ought to have been walled up in order
to bury the memory of a crime unworthy of the French
nation,*' was transformed into a Chapelle Expiatoire by
Louis XYUI. in 1816. On the altar is a Latin inscrip-
tion composed by the king himself, who was no mean
Latinist The prison chapel adjoining was the hall of
the Girondists, in which this most enlightened party of
the revolutionists are said to have celebrated their last
night by a banquet

The guides will also show the cells once occupied by
Madame Roland, Robespierre, St Just, Andr^ Ch^nier,
and other celebrated victims of the Revolution, but it is
doubtful if these can be positively identified. It is some-
thing of an anticlimax to be also shown the cell where
Prince Louis Napoleon (afterward Napoleon III.) was
confined after the failure of his melodramatic attempt
to overturn the republic at Boulogne in 1840.

Prince Louis Napoleon's Boulogne expedition in 1840

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 33

was, at all events, better planned and had more chances
of success than his ludicrous attempt to overthrow the
French government at Strasburg only four years be-
fore. In fact, this abortive coup de main can only be
compared for futility and puerility to the mock-heroic
defiance of the French republic by M. Gudrin and his
disaffected Orleanists of Fort Cabrol fame in the autumn
of 1899.

The history of Prince Napoleon's 1840 expedition is
graphically told at great length by M. Louis Blanc in
his "Histoire de Dix Ans" (1880 to 1840). The story
is picturesque and romantic, and, indeed, savours rather
of South American filibustering expeditions of the last
century, than of a serious political enterprise. According
to this historian, Prince Louis Napoleon's intention was,
after securing the adhesion of the Boulogne garrison, to
march upon Calais, whence he was to make his way
to St Omer. But the better informed Count Orsi, who
took a prominent part in the expedition, and was one of
the prince's most trusted friends, tells us in a valuable
little book on the expedition that the plan of campaign
was to march from Boulogne straight to St. Omer. The
point to be reached after St. Omer was, in any case,
Lille ; and if the garrison of Lille had once been secured
file prince's enterprise would have been far indeed from
hopeless. Arrangements had been made for a popular
rising at Boulogne on August 5th, on the same day that
the prince was to have been proclaimed emperor by the
Boulogne garrison, who had been already won over to
his cause.

A steamer was chartered by the prince's London
agents, and early in the morning of the 5th oi A^pst

34 PABia IN ITS aPLENBOUE.

(the day on which the expedition should have already
landed at Boulogne), the prince with Count Orsi, Gen-
eral Montholon, Colonel Yoisin, and some sixty ad-
herents, embarked at Ramsgate. Had the steamer
started at the hour previously arranged, that is, only
twelve hours earlier, there would have been some fair
chance of success. It was, however, already three
o'clock on tiie morning of the 6th when the vessel
stood off Wimereux, a little fishing village near Bou-
logne. The landing began at once, but as there was
only one boat on board the process was slow. As they
neared the shore they were haQed by the garde-cdteff
<< Qui vivef^* The reply was, ^^A detachment of the
42d from Dunkirk to join the battalion at Boulogne.
Through an accident to the engine, the steamer cannot
get further."

As the invaders were clothed and armed exactly like
the French garrison, they were allowed to land. Hastily
forming on the beach, the prince and his little band
started at once for the barracks. One of the prince's
party, an old soldier who was aware of the password,
had gone on ahead and got the barrack gates open ; so
Napoleon's little force had no difficulty in effecting an
entrance. The garrison was quickly paraded, and, after
a stirring address from the prince, the soldiers declared
themselves on the side of Napoleon with shouts of
" Vive le prince ! "

<^ Hurriedly quitting the barrack-yard, the prince at
the head of his friends and adherents now endeavoured
to enter tiie old town, but the gate was closed, nor did
their united efforts suffice to unhinge it."

The enterprise bad failed. The chiefs of tiie popular

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 35

movement, who were to have secured the military rich
ingy having inferred from the non-arrival of the prince
on the morning of tiie 5th that something had occurred
to put tile French authorities on the scent, had de-
camped from the town. It appeared that Forestier, who
had been sent to warn the organisers of the civil demon-
stration in favour of Louia Napoleon that the rising
would be postponed, did not reach Boulogne in time.

Nothing now remained for Napoleon and his friends
but to endeavour to escape. It is due to the prince to
say that he wished to be allowed to make a last des-
perate stand against the authorities, who were, how-
ever, naturally anxious to retain him as a prisoner and
not to shoot him down. But Colonel Yoisin and the
other supporters of Napoleon literally dragged their
leader to the shore, and ultimately they reached their
steamer, which was standing out in the roads, by swim-
ming under a heavy fire of musketry from the gen-
darmes and the national guard from the cliffs. The
steamer was, however, already in the hands of the Bou-
logne authorities, so that Napoleon and his companions
were immediately taken prisoners.

After the Strasburg fiasco the government was strong
enough to be tolerant, and could afford to regard the
enterprise as a boyish escapade, which would be suffi-
ciently punished by expulsion from French soil. This
second attempt to overthrow the government was, how-
ever, regarded more seriously, and Louis Napoleon was
brought to trial before the Chamber of Peers at the
Luxembourg. He was defended by the eminent advo-
cate, Berryer (whose statue we have noticed in the
Palais de Justice). There was, of course, no defence to

36 PABI8 IN rra bplendour.

the charge of open rebellion, and the injudicious speech
of Napoleon, in which he attempted to justify his con-
duct, did not incline the court to find extenuating cir-
cumstances. He was condemned to imprisonment for
life to the fortress of Ham (whence he escaped, it is
said with the connivance of the authorities, six years
later).

Such was the result of Prince Napoleon's second
<^ armed invasion" of France. When one remembers
that in 1812, when Napoleon I. was at the height of
his power, a disaffected general (General Mallet), simply
by causing a rumour of Napoleon's death in Russia to
be circulated, was enabled to stop for a few hours all
the wheels of government and to possess himself of the
military control of the capital, one cannot think that the
attempt of Louis Napoleon, backed by the moral support
of the family name and the deepHseated Napoleonic
tradition, was altogether hopeless. Indeed, just as the
Jameson raid of the Transvaal in 1895, if supported
by the party of reform within the walls of Johannes-
burg, might possibly have brought the United States of
South Africa under the British flag within the realm of
practical politics, so the simultaneous civil demonstra-
tion in Boulogne with the military rising of the garrison
might have antedated the Second Empire a dozen years.

A great deal of ridicule has been thrown on Napo-
leon's Boulogne fiasco by the famous eagle episode
which Louis Blanc describes so humourously. His read-
ing of the legend that an eagle, which was no doubt
found on board the Edinburgh CaMe (the steamer
chartered for Ihe expedition), had been trained to fly
around the head of Louis Napoleon by the pruice qqu-

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 37

cealii^ a piece of bacon in his hat, is not in accord-
ance witii tiie facts. It is a pity to demolish this time-
honoured story, bat, as a matter of fact, tiie presence on
board of tiie Napoleonic fowl was the merest accident.
One of Napoleon's partisans who had gone ashore at
Gravesend met a lad offering an eagle for sale, and,
struck by the appropriateness of the bird, partly in a
jocular and partly in a superstitious mood he bought it,
and facetiously declared that the expedition should be
made under the auspices of the king of birds. But that
Prince Louis Napoleon was able to survive the ridicule
which, justly or not, undoubtedly attached to this eagle
incident, in a country, too, where ridicule is proverbi-
ally a fatal weapon, certainly says much for the strong
character and the remarkable personality of the man
who a few years afterward was elected emperor by the
votes of over five millions of his countrymen.

The so-called ^ Kitchens of St. Louis " are at the base of
that portion of the building adjoining the Tour de THor-
loge. They consist of a square vaulted chamber supported
by nine pillars, witii a fireplace in each comer, — hence
the popular name. Cuisines de St Louis. Though this
building is in all probability some fifty years later than
St Louis, it is well worth careful inspection by those fond
of antiquarian research, as it is probably the oldest part
of the Palais de Justice, dating from the thirteenth
century.

There is not much to attract ordinary sightseers in
the interior of the Palais de Justice, unless they are
interested in the machinery and civil and criminal pro-
cedure of French law courts (which is dealt with else-
where in this book). In the first chamber of the court of

38 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

appeal, however, is a very fine Galvarj by Van Eyck,
which is not mentioned in the guide-books. This is one
of the few objects of art of the ancient palace which has
sarviyed the nnmerous fires and the wilful damage of
the incendiaries of the Commune. In the centre of the
picture is the Saviour on the cross. On the right is the
Virgin supported bj St. John the Baptist and St Louis,
while on l^e left are St. John the Evangelist, St. Denis,
and St. Charlemagne. On the top of the picture are
the other two persons of the Trinity. The background
is very curious and characteristia It represents Jeru-
salem, the Tour de Nesle, the Louvre, and the Palais de
Justice. This work by the great Flemish painter was
formerly in the principal hall of the Parliament, des-
troyed in 1798.

The &mous Salle des Pas-Perdus, which forms the
great entrance hall to the principal civil courts, is one of
the largest halls in Europe. Its length is two hundred
and forty, breadth ninety, and height thirty-three feet
The various derivations of this curious title, ^ Hall of
the Lost Steps," are purely conjectural. The most
plausible is that it refers to litigants, victims of the law's
delay, walking wearily to and fro day after day, vainly
expecting their case to be called. This hall, which has
been restored since ISTl, occupies the site of the great
hall of the palace. At one end was the huge marble
platform or table on which the Clercs de la Basoche
(said to be a burlesque form of basilica) used to act
tiieir travesties (officially termed << farces et morali-
t^s") during the fifteenth century. Victor Hugo de-
scribes one of these performances in << Notre Dame." On
this table royal contracts of marriage were signed,

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 39

among them that of Catherine of France with Henry
y. of England.

In this hall are two statues, both excellent examples
of French sculpture. On our right on entering is the
fine statue of Malesherbes, who defended Louis XYL at
his trial before the Beyolntionary tribunal. The trial
did not, however, like that of his consort, take place
here, but in the Manage of the old Tuileries Palace. In
the next year the courageous advocate himself fell a
victim to the Terror. The monument is a graceful and
artistic composition. Malesherbes stands between figures
(the work of Bosio) symbolising France and Fidelity.
This statue was with difiiculty saved when the Com-
munist insurgents, under the order of Baoul Rigault
(who directed petroleum to be poured over the wood-
work of the hall), set fire to the palace. Almost facing
Malesherbes's statue is one erected in 1878 to the cele-
brated advocate, Berryer, by Chapu. This statue is
described by Yitu as ^^the homage paid to eloquence
considered as the auxiliary of justice."

From this hall the courts comprising the Tribunal
de Premidre Instance are reached, and, except during
the vacation, it is thronged with advocates in their
robes and curious caps, shaped like birettas, clients,
clerks, witnesses, idlers, etc. The first chamber is the
historic hall (though littie but the four walls remain of
the original structure) where the Revolutionary tri-
bunal sat, which tried the Queen of France, the Giron-
dists, Madame Elizabeth, Danton, Camille Desmoulins,
Robespierre, and other notable persons. The doomed
prisoner sat near the centre of the left-hand wall, and
dose by may still be seen (though I believe it is no

40 PABia nr its splendoub.

longer used) the door of the staircase leading from the
Conciergerie cells, once trodden by the hapless Marie
Antoinette.

The handsome Renaissance building, opposite the
Palais de Justice, is the Tribunal de Commerce. This
serves practically as the commercial court of appeal
for all the Tribunaux de Commerce in France, of which
there are no less than 218 throughout France, — being
one for each arrondissement In this department of
l^al machinery the French are certainly ahead of the
English, and, indeed, on paper at all events, the French
legal organisation seems as near perfection as that of
any European power.

The elegant dome of the Tribunal de Commerce has a
curious origin. During the war between France and
her ally, Italy, with Austria, in 1859, Napoleon had
admired the cupola of a certain littie church on the
shores of tiie Lake of Garda, and had the dome of
the Tribunal modelled upon it There is nothing in
the interior of the building to delay the sightseer.

The official-looking structure immediately opposite is
the Prefecture de Police, and for details I must again
refer readers to the chapter dealing with municipal
Paris.

The enormous building east of the Tribunal de Com-
merce is the Central Paris Hospital (Hdtel Dieu), one of
the largest in Europe, and occupies a space of nearly five
and a half acres. It is not often visited by strangers, but
if furnished with an introduction from one of the medical
staff, there would be no difficulty, and a visit is most
instructive. For hygienic reasons the hospital, like St.
Thomas's, London, is divided into six detached blocks.

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 41

This hospital has been built a little north of the site
of the Hdtel Dieu founded bj King Glovis (son of
Dagobert), about 660, which, according to some authori-
ties, was the first hospital built in Europe.

This magnificent hospital, which deservedly ranks
among the best in the world (for full details, see Sir
Henry Burdett's monumental work, '^ The Hospitals of
the World"), is, in common with all the hospitals,
infirmaries, and other benevolent institutions of Paris,
under the control of the municipal council. The fol-
lowing statistics, for which I am indebted to that ency-
clopedic storehouse of practical information, Baedeker's
^ Paris,'' will give the reader some idea of the importance
of the eleemosynary work undertaken by the sub-com-
mittee (Assistance Publique) of the council entrusted
with the administration of the Paris hospitals: ^The
twenty hospitals of Paris have an aggregate of upwards
of twelve thousand beds. The number of patients annu^
ally discharged includes forty-five to fifty thousand men,
thirty-six to forty thousand women, and sixteen to
eighteen thousand children ; the average annual deaths
in the hospitals include about seven thousand men, five
thousand women, and three thousand children. The
Assistance Publique expends annually about thirty-six
million francs on its various benevolent institutions,
which assist about 467,000 persons each year."

Though the present hospital, built in 1878, at a cost
of more than £1,500,000, is more than twice the size of
the hospital it replaced, yet it cannot accommodate so
many patients. But this is due to the praiseworthy
determination on the part of the architects to provide a
maTJmnm of light and air for the patients, and instead

42 PABia IN ITS aPLSNDOUS.

of there being from fifteen to a score of beds in each
ward, few of the wards contain more than half a dozen
beds. ^ The wards occupied by the patients are lighted
bj two rows of windows, north and south, and thej look
out upon the interior courtyards, which are planted with
trees. This arrangement allows air to enter the well-
kept apartments, and the rays of tiie sun to light up the
curtains and white beds of a model hospital, where
everything possible has been done to relieve the suffer-
ing and depression of its unhappy inmates. In the
ojdithalmic ward, curtains of a particular kind are so
arranged as only to admit the degree of light which the
patients can bear."

Compared with other great hospitals of Europe, the
cost has been enormous. The hospital contains 514
beds, and some fifty million francs having been expended
on the hospital, it needs no elaborate calculation to show
that the cost of each bed is nearly one hundred thousand
francs. Consequently, economically minded philanthro-
pists have not been slow to point out that at six thou-
sand francs per head, *^ the ordinary figure in England
and other countries," more than eight tiiousand patients
might have been accommodated instead of five hundred.
The stem logic of figures cannot be denied, but it must
not be forgotten that this hospital is one of the best
equipped in the world, and that it contains, besides its
hospital service, properly so-called, an administrative
department, including amphitheatres of practical sur-
gery, laboratories of pharmacy, chemistry, etc., which
cost fourteen million francs. According, moreover, to the
original plan, as approved by the principal professors
and physicians of the Hdtel Dieu, there was to have

42 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0US.

of there being from fifteen to a score of beds in each
ward, few of the wards contain more than half a dozen
beds. ^ The wards occupied by the patients are lighted
by two rows of windows, north and soutii, and they look
oat upon the interior courtyards, which are planted with
trees. This arrangement allows air to enter tiie well-
kept apartments, and the rays of the sun to light up the
curtains and white beds of a model hospital, where
eyerything possible has been done to relieye the suffer-
ing and depression of its unhappy inmates. In flie
ophthalmic ward, curtains of a particular kind are so
arranged as only to admit the degree of light which flie
patients can bear."

Compared with other great hospitals of Europe, the
cost has been enormous. The hospital contains 514
beds, and some fifty million francs having been expended
on the hospital, it needs no elaborate calculation to show
that the cost of each bed is nearly one hundred thousand
francs. Consequently, economically minded philanthro-
pists have not been slow to point out that at six thou-
sand francs per head, ^ the ordinary figure in England
and other countries," more than eight tiiousand patients
might have been accommodated instead of five hundred.
The stem logic of figures cannot be denied, but it must
not be forgotten that this hospital is one of the best
equipped in the world, and that it contains, besides its
hospital service, properly so-called, an administrative
department, including amphitheatres of practical sur-
gery, laboratories of pharmacy, chemistry, etc., which
cost fourteen million francs. According, moreover, to the
original plan, as approved by the principal professors
and physicians of the Hdtel Dieu, there was to have

46 PABia IN ITS aPLENDOUB.

HausBOiaan's scheme of a line of grand bouleyards
runnii^ east and west and north and south, and
links the two trunk boulevards, de S^bastopol and St
Michel.

Whatever the aosthetic shortcomings of these enor-
mous thoroughfares, tourists must welcome them, if
onlj because they render Paris one of the easiest capi-
tals in Europe in which to find one's way about Cer-
tainly it lessens the usual hard labour of sightseeing.
In short, about three-fourths of the ordinary visitor's
sightseeing is comprised in an area bounded by the
northern system of grand boulevards, extending from
the Place de la Concorde to the Place de la Bastille,
and the southern continuation from the Pont de la
Concorde along the Boulevard St Germain and Boule-
vard Henri IV.

In the June (1848) insurrection the insurgents barri-
caded the old bridge, and were so strongly posted there
that they were only dislodged by cannon.

In the Place St Michel is the famous Fontaine St
Michel, a fine monument designed on a colossal scale,
being over eighty feet high. It is one of the most striking
street monuments in Paris. It was inaugurated August
15, 1860. Under a niche, in the centre of a rich
Corinthian facade, is a bronze group, by Duret, of the
archangel crushing Satan. From the rock forming the
basement, a sheet of water pours down into five basins
flanked by two dragons spouting water into the lower-
most cistern.

From here we turn westward toward the Pont de la
Concorde. There are several fine buildings on our route
along the Quais St Augustin and Voltaire, and the Quai

MONUKKNTAL PARIS. 47

d'Orsaj, among tfaem the Mint (La Monnaie), Inatitate,
Beaox ArtB, Palace of the Legion of Honour, German
Embassy, and tlie Chamber of Deputies (Palais Bourbon).

The Hdtel des Monnaies (Mint) is a handsome clas-
sical building with a fafade nearly four hundred feet
long, erected in 1775 on the site of the H6tel de Conti.
Except to numismatists, who will be interested in seeing
the collection of coins, there is not much to attract sight-
seers, who probably are more interested in current coin
of the realm, in the interior. Till the removal of a great
portion of the coins to the Bibliothdque Nationale (see
museum chapter) it was the finest collection in France.
The minting operations are not particularly interesting
except to those who have neyer visited a mint.

In the Salle Napoleon is a cast of the face of the
emperor, taken within twenty hours of his death, and a
splendid colossal marble bust by Canova.

The huge building adjoining is the Institute, the home
of the famous French Academy. It is a heavy classical
structure, and, in spite of its size, not particularly
impressive. The fa9ade, surmounted by a dome (often
mistaken by strangers for the dome of the Invalides),
is flanked on each side by a curved wing resting on
arcades. On the place in front of the building is a not
altogether effective statue of the Republic by Soitoux.
It was ordered by the Republic of 1848, but the eaup-
d^itat naturally put a stop to its inauguration. Finally,
the Third Republic erected the statue here in 1880.

The southern portion of the Institute is occupied by
the Bibliothdque Mazarine to contain the library the car-
dinal left to the nation. In this library are some curious
relics which will probably interest the casual sightseer

48 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

far more than the volumea and mannscriptB of the
library proper, though moat guide-books ignore them.
Among these historic souvenirs are the inkstand of the
great Oond^ and a magnificent terrestrial globe of copper
ordered bj Louis XY L for the education of the Dauphin.
The impression of a bullet with which it was struck,
when the mob attacked the Louvre, can be perceived bj
the curious visitor. Archssologists will be interested
bj a valuable and unique collection of the Pelasgic
monuments of ancient Greece, the Cyclopean walls of
Mycenffi, Tiryns, etc

One of the wings is built on the site of the notorious
Tour de Nesle, tiie retreat of Queen Margaret of Bur-
gundy, of infamous memory. According to tradition,
this medieval Messalina used this place as a rendezvous
for young strangers with whom she was enamoured, and
then, to prevent any compromising revelations, caused
her lovers to be murdered and their bodies flung into the
Seine. However, the punishment of this erring queen,
even if well deserved, as stem moralists will hold, seems
to modem notions unnecessarily cruel. She was con-
demned by her husband, Louis X., to be strangled,
while her two accomplices suffered death by being
flayed alive!

The Institute has undergone many vicissitudes. It
was founded by Cardinal Mazarin (hence originally
known as the College Mazarin) as a college for sixty
sons of gentiemen belonging to the various territories,
German, Flemish, and Proveufal, lately annexed by
France. Hence it was sometimes called the College des
Quatre Nations. The fourth nation was France. Simi-
larly, in the University of Paris there were formerly

MONUMMJfTAL PAMI3. 49

^ four iiati<Hi8." During the ReTolatton it was used as
a prison.

In 1795 the ConyenticHi made tbe Institate tbe seat of
the Acad^mie (the creation of another still more famous
cardinal — Bichelien), which had hitherto f oond its home
in the Lonyre. The Academic was reconstitated and
divided into three dasses. Napoleon reorganised the
Institute and added another dass, while the fifth class,
that of moral and political sciences, was added by Ouisot
in 1832. The Institate thus reyerted to its original
nnmber of fiye dasaes, or academies, as they are now
called.

The fiye academies of which the Institate now consists
are the Aead4mie Franfoise^ whose laboars are relative
to the French language, and espedally the composition
ol its dictionary, which is still unfinished ; the Aeadimie
des SeieneeSj the occupations of which are purely scien-
tific, which corresponds to our Boyal Society ; the Aeor
dSmie de$ iueriptions et BeUes-LettreSy which includes
history, antiquities, geography, Oriental and medieval
languages, etc.; the Acadimie de$ Beatu^ArUj — paint-
ing, sculpture, architecture, engraving, and music ; and
the AcadSmie de$ Sciences Morales et Politiqaee^ — law,
jurisprudence, moral philosophy, statistics, etc.

Each academy has forty members, except the AcadS-
mie dee Sciences with sixty-six members, and each meets
once a week, with a general meeting (SSance AnnuelU)
once a year. There are a limited number of titular
members, of national associates (AssocKs lihres)^ for-
eign associates (AssoeiSs Mrangers)^ and corresponding
members (^Correspondants^^ — the two latter classes for-
eigners. Each titular member, who must be a French-

50 PAKIB IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

man, receives an annual stipend of twelve hundred francs.
The members are elected by the academies bj coopta-
tion, but their election must be confirmed bj the state.
The annual meetings are much frequented; at that of
the AeacUmie Franfoise newlj elected members are pub-
licly received and addresses pronounced. They take place
in the hall which was once the church, so the ar-
rangement of seats is rather peculiar. At those of the
other Academies, ^logei or biographical notices of deceased
members are read by the secretaries, learned papers read
and discussed, and prizes distributed. Strangers are ad-
mitted only by tickets from members, which are much
sought after.^

Just as every conscript, according to the Napoleonic
legend, is said to carry in his knapsack a marshal's
baton, so every writer in France who has contributed a
paper to a literary or scientific review cherishes the
ambition of being one of the Forty Immortals. ^ It is
questionable," remarks Mr. Sieverts-Drewett, *' whether
tiie French 9avant would not sooner be a member of
the forty immortals who comprise the first named Aea-
dSmie than have a guarantee of an after life of eternal
hapjnness. It is to him omni ezeeptiane majar.^^

The highest intellectual attainments will not, how-
ever, alone ensure election, and merit is not the only
passport to the occupation of one of the Immortal chairs.
In fact, it is supposed that family and political influence
count a great deal in the election. The qualifications,
indeed, of some of the elections would almost suggest
that the Academicians adopted the famous qualification

^ For many of these detaila I am indebted to a oonoise deecrip-
tkm In Mntiaj's " Handbook of Paris. '«

MONUMENTAL PABIS. 51

for fellowship at All Souls' College in the old Oxford
times before the days of uniyersity commissions, viz.:
<^ Bene natif bene vettUt^ moderate doeti.^*

A certain speech of M. Guizot himself lends some
coloor to this notion. One daj, when the merits of
certain candidates were under discussion, the famous
Minister of Public Instruction remarked that he should
vote for a certain candidate because, in his opinion, he
possessed the qualities of a true Academician, — << He has
a good demeanour, he is very polite, he is decorated, and
he has no opinions. I know that he has written a few
books, but what of that ? A man cannot be perfect ! "
This is nearly as good in its way as the ironical observa-
tion made in court by the late Lord Coleridge, who
checked a somewhat pushing junior by mildly remark-
ing, ^ No one is infallible, not even the youngest of us."

The Academy and its elections have for years been
the subject of bon-mots and witticisms on the part of
the bauUvardieri. One of the best was perhaps the
mock epitaph that Piron suggested for himself :

« Cy git Piron, qui ne fUt rien,
Pas mdme Acad^micien."

Certainly Academicians of the present day can plead
the example of history in their exclusion of mere talent
alone from the Academy.

We need only enumerate the following to whom the
"Forty-first Chair,*' to quote the title of M. ArsSne
Houssaye's witty brochure, should indisputably have been
awarded.

1. Descartes. A great writer as well as profound
thinker.

62 PABia IN ITS aPLBNDOUB.

2. Pascal. Author of the *' Letferes Proniiciales.''
8. Molidre. Excluded not because he was a drama-
tist, for Comeilley Racine, and Voltaire were members,
but because he wrote comedies, and was, therefore, like
Beaumarchais and Le Sage, considered inadmissable.
However, as some reparation, his bust has been placed
in the principal hall of the Academy.

4. Jean Jacques Bousseau. The author of ^ La Nou-
▼elle H^loise " did not, as is belieyed, ever seek election,
but at all events he was never asked to join the Academy.

5. Balzac, by many good judges considered to be the
finest novelist of any nationality of modem times, was
never invited to join the Academy.

6. Mirabeau was never admitted to the Academy, and,
in view of his advanced political opinions and the loose-
ness of his private life, this is not surprising.

7. La Rochefoucauld, the famous writer of the Maxims,
it is said declined to be nominated.

8. J. B. Rousseau, who, next to Alfred de Musset and
B6ranger, was jusUy considered the greatest lyric poet in
France, was not a member.

9. Le Sage. The exclusion of the author of ^Gil
Bias" from the ranks of the Academicians is usually
attributed to his having failed to write a tragedy.

10. Piron, in spite of his famous epigram on the
Academy quoted above, was actually elected, but Louis
XY. refused to ratify the Academy's choice.

11. Alexandre Dumas the elder was not made a
member, and, in consequence of this, his son for many
years refused to allow himself to be nominated. But
after his father's death he accepted the invitation of tiie
Forty.

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 53

£2. FInalljy there is E. Zola, who, as is well known,
has far many years tried to break down the prejudices
of the Academj. It is generally supposed that his charm-
ing idjl, ^ Le Bdve,** was written mainly in the hope of
proving to the Forty that he was not altogether wedded
to the microscopic analysis of animal passions.

The aboTe are a dozen names which will probably
occur to most of us in attempting to make out a repre-
flentative list of the most notable of the Oreat Rejected.

Women are not admitted to the Academy, but it is
surely not for lack of suitable candidates. Only the
accident of sex could have excluded Madame de StaSl,
Madame de S^vign^, (George Sand, or the greatest of
Biodem French women writers, *' Henri Or6ville."

CHAPTER m

MONUMENTAL PARIS.
(Concluded.)

Within a short distance of the Palais de I'lnstitat is
the ^cole des Beaux Arts, which was founded at about
the same period as the Academic. It is a large, hand-
some building, the main portion of which was completed
in 1888, but under Napoleon III. considerable additions
were made. It is the seat of a yerj flourishing school
of art attended bj nearly a thousand pupils, and is
perhaps in many respects the best in Europe.

It is, however, with the building and its contents that
we are now chiefly concerned. There is much to inter-
est those fond of archsoology here, as the building occu-
pies the site of ihe Couvent des Petits Augustins, where
Alexandre Lenoir formed his magnificent collection of
antiquities and objects of art, saved from the wholesale
pillage of churches and abbeys during the Revolution, to
which I have had to refer frequently in the chapter on
Paris churches. At the Restoration most of the objects
were restored to tiie churches whence they were taken,
and a good many of the sculptures are in the collection
of Renaissance sculpture in the Louvre. Many interest-
ing fragments, however, were allowed to remain here.

Artists would probably find a whole morning not
thrown away at the Beaux Arts, as tiiere are valuable

MONUMENTAL PABIS, 55

colIectionB of copies of the maflterpieces of flie great
galleriefl of Europe, famous frescoes from churches
(Giotto's frescoes from the Aren^ Church, Padua, the
best), casts of bas-reliefs, monuments, and copies of
well-known classical statues, besides the great artistic
attraction of the Beaux Arts, the famous Hemicjcle of
Delaroche. The collection of copies of &mous pictures
of the principal schools is admirably chosen, and it is
not a bad plan to devote an hour to this collection after
visiting the Louvre.

The principal entrance is in the Rue Bonaparte.
The two colossal busts of Poussin and P. Puget, which
confront the visitor on entering the first court, are the
works of David d' Angers (not to be confounded with
his namesake, the famous painter of the Revolution and
the First Empire). This sculptor is sparingly represented
in the monuments of Paris, though he once had a great
reputation. The column in the centre of the courtyard
supports a bronze angel (thought to represent Plenty).
This statue is one of several that once adorned Cardinal
Mazarin's tomb. It is of sixteenth century workmanship.

On the right, leading to the hall (once the chapel of
the abbey), is the celebrated gateway of Diane de
Poitiers's Ghftteau d'Anet This exquisite bit of Re-
naissance sculpture is by Jean Goujon and Philibert
Delorme. It is richly decorated with statues and bas-
reliefs. On the top of the arch is the following inscrip-
tion:

<< Bneaseo heec statuit pergrata Diana marito,
Ut diaturna sai sint monumenta viri."

The interior is fitted up to resemble the Sistine
Chapel at Rome, and the twelve pendentives are exact

66 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

copies of Michael Angelo's frescoes. It has some splen-
did pieces of woodwork from the Chftteau d'Anet, and a
screen of Doric columns from the same edifice. At the
farther end is Sigalon's copy of Michael Angelo's Last
Judgment. Betuming to the court, in front is the
facade of the Chftteau of Gkiillon (brought bj Lenoir
from Normandy when the chftteau was sacked by the
peasants during the Beyolution)| which was built in
1601 by Cardinal Oeorge d'Amboise, Archbishop of
Bouen. Though a beautiful specimen of Renaissance
architecture, it is not so pure in style as the Anet
portal, there being distinct traces of a Gothic influence.
The back of it is covered with mutilated statues, medal-
lions, etc. Behind is iSbe principal building, an elegant
and handsome Italian front witii two wings. Let into
the walls around tiie inner court are numerous fragments
from the Chftteaux Oaillon and Anet. Some pilasters
which stood in a sepulchral chapel of Philippe de Co-
mines have carved on them curious symbolical subjects.
Another quaint piece of sculpture is a bas-relief repre-
senting the public penitence of some sergeants who had
seized one of the monks in the year 1440. In another
part of the court are remains from the old church of
Ste. Oenevidve, eleventh century, two doorways from
Oaillon, and magnificent tombs of the fourteenth,
fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries.

Notice in the centre of the court a remarkable thir-
teenth century basin, twelve feet in diameter, carved
from a single block of stone. It was originally in the
Church of St. Denis. It is ornamented with heads of
Ceres, Neptune, Pan, and other mythological deities.

In flie amphitheatre at the back of ihe court is tlie

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 57

famous painting of Paul Delaroche representing the
schools of art of all ages. This ambitious and elaborate
composition^ which is perhaps the best known, though
scarcelj the best of this painter's works, is generally
called the Hemicycle, from the Greek name of the hall
of which it is the chief embellishment The idea of tiie
picture is to portray tiie classical representatives of
the arte, — Apelles for painting, Phidias for sculpture,
and Ictinus (Parthenon) for architecture, — distributing
prizes to the great painters and sculptors of all ages.
In this composition are seventy-five figures, all on a
colossal scale. The muse who symbolises Gothic Art^
represented with long hair, and dressed in a green
mantie, is said to be a portrait of the artist's wife,
daughter of the famous painter of battie-pieces, Horace
Yernet. In 1855 the Hemicycle was damaged by a
fire, and (^pace Baedeker) has not been very satisfac-
torily restored.

American visitors can compare this original with a
reduced copy in the Walters Art Gallery, Baltimore.
Delaroche was occupied for over three years in painting
this colossal fresco, for which he was paid £3,200, a
sum which seems princely, indeed, compared to the
price the English Academician, James Barry, received
for a very similar work to decorate the hall of the
Society of Arte, London.

The buildings next the Seine (containing the Salle de
Melpomdne) form the ^cole des Beaux Arte, and are
not particularly interesting. In fact, nine out of ten
strangers simply visit the Beaux Arte to see Delaroche's
great picture, which is perhaps the finest modem work
of the kind in the world.

58 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR,

The curious-looking building with the dwarf dome,
ahnost opposite the Pont de Solf 6rino, is the Palais de la
Legion d'HonneuTy the famous order founded by Napo-
leon I. in 1802. The building, or rather the site, for
the present palace was rebuilt in 1872, after the former
palace, like most of the government buildings in this
quarter, had been destroyed by the incendiaries of the
Commune, has many interesting historical associations.
The building which the present handsome structure re-
places was built in 1786 by the Architect Rousseau for
the Prince de Salm, who was guillotined along with the
Prince de Bohan and M. de Beauhamais (whose widow
Napoleon married) in July, 1794, only four days before
Bobespierre. The palace was then disposed of by lot-
tery, and became the property of an adventurer who
called himself the Marquis de Boisregard. Under the
Directory, it was the home of Madame de Stael, and was
the scene of those famous reunions, which were destined
to get her into trouble with the government When
Napoleon I. founded the Order of the Legion d'Honneur,
he gave the members this palace for headquarters. Af-
ter its destruction by the Communists in May, 1871, it
was rebuilt at the cost — said to be nearly a million
francs — of the members of the order.

The Legion of Honour, which was remodelled in 1852,
was ostensibly founded to reward and ^^ distinguish merit,
military and civil," and the order is highly esteemed by
all Frenchmen, though the extreme catholicity of its
membership has somewhat discounted the value of the
decoration. At present it consists of a chancellor
(who is given equal precedence with a minister of
state), eighty grand crosses, two hundred grand offi-

MONUMENTAL PARIS. 59

cers, one thousand commanders, foor thousand officers.
In these higher grades the number is strictly limited,
but there is no limit to the chevaliers, of whom it is said
there are at present something like fifty thousand. Each
chevalier, if in the army or navy, receives annually £10,
tiie officers X20, the commanders X40, the great officers
£80, and the grand crosses £120. The income of the
order is about £280,000. The chevaliers wear a red
ribbon on the left breast, with a silver star attached ;
the officers, a red rosette with a gold star ; commanders,
a star suspended by a wide red ribbon around the neck ;
and the higher dignitaries, silver stars on the right
breast, with a gold cross or badge. The great majority
of the members of the Legion of Honour are in the
military service of the country, but men of eminence in
every department are admitted, though this is very
liberally interpreted, and the decoration is often given
for mere success in trade or a successful coup at the
Bourse.

A highly valued privilege, enjoyed by civilian as
well as military members, is that of the military salute,
though this is confined to the two higher grades. In
connection with this right of being saluted by all sol-
diers on duty, a good story is told of a certain Minister
of War under the Second Empire, Marshal Yaillant,
who was notorious for his dislike of pomp and military
parade. The marshal having to preside at a certain
municipal function in some provincial town, attended
the ceremony in mufti. In the park where tbe cere-
mony was to take place was posted the general com-
manding the district, with his staff, at the head of several
battalions. The moment the marshal got out of his

60 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

carriage, the general saluted, the drums rolled, the bands
played, and the troops presented arms, to the undisguised
wrath of the recipient of the honours. He took the first
opportunity of soundly rating the general who was re-
sponsible. At the conclusion of the lecture, the general
respectfully asked if the marshal had finished.

^ MatBj aui, of course I have finished."

^ Very well, the next time you come out en Hmple
bourgeois, you had better leave the grand cordon of the
Legion of Honour at home. If I had not saluted you as
I did, I should have been reprimanded by the Minister
of War and by the grand chancellor of the order. On
the whole, I prefer your censure."

" But I am the Minister of War."

** Pardon, monsieur, I know notiiing about that All
I saw was an old gentleman with the grand cordon. If
you are the Minister of War, perhaps you will be kind
enough to tell M. le Mar^chal Yaillant that he must not
tempt old soldiers like myself to forget their duty."

Though nearly all Frenchmen in reality covet this
distinction, which, as a cynical writer declares, ^ might
almost be called the true Department of Public Wor^
ship," yet there is probably no popular institution in
France which has been the subject of more ridicule
in the comic press than the Legion of Honour. Innu-
merable have been the witticisms and epigrams aimed at
the wearers of the ^^ little red button." The bon mot of
a well-known savant, who observed that there were two
things no respectable French citizen could escape, —
death and the Legion of Honour, — will serve as a
specimen of these jeux d^ esprit.

Continuing along the Quai d'Orsay as far as the Pont

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 61

de la Concorde, we reach the Chamber of Deputies
(officially termed Palais da Corpa L^gislatif), directly
feeing the bridge, with its magnificent, but somewhat
incongruous, Corinthian colonnade, which forms so con-
spicuous a landmark among all the splendid public
buildings which line the Quai d'Orsaj.

The name, Palais Bourbon, bj which it is sometimes
called, is due to the original palace having been begun
in 1722 bj Louise, Dowager Duchess of Bourbon, and
finished in 1789 by tiie Prince of Cond6. The title
Palais Bourbon certainlj seems a singularly infelicitous
one, for neither under the ancient monarchy nor under
the restored Bourbons has this dynasty shown any
favour to parliamentary institutions. After passing
through many vicissitudes, — confiscated by the state
in 1790, then the meeting-place of the council of five
hundred, and tbe seat of the Corps L^gislatif a few
years later, — the palace was restored by Louis XVIII.
to the Prince of Cond6, though it was still the seat of
the Chamber. In 1880 the government, alive to the.
indignity of the Legislative Chamber being a mere
tenant, bought the palace from the Due d'Aumale —
the palace on tiie death of the Prince de Cond^ having
devolved to the Orleans family — for over ten million
francs. Under various titles the Second Chamber of
the French Parliament was installed here till Septem-
ber 4, 1870, when the seat of government was trans-
ferred to Versailles. From this date till 1879 it was
unoccupied, the sessions of the two Chambers being held
at Versailles, which remained the seat of government
till that year, when it was thought public security in the
capital was sufficiently assured.

62 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

The Palais, it is scarcely necessary to remind the
reader, has been the scene of some of the most momen-
tous events in the history of France since the Bevolu-
tion. It has been the theatre, too, of many highly
dramatic and sensational episodes.

<< On February 24, 1848, when the Tuileries was in-
vaded by the insurgents, the Duchess of Orleans and her
two children, separated from all the members of her
family, ran across the gardens and bridge, took refuge in
the Chamber of Deputies, and heard tiie abdication of Louis
Philippe debated, against which she attempted to protest
The mob, under Ledru-Bollin, invaded the building, and
for some hours the duchess and her children were in great
danger. At length they were conveyed to the Hdtel des
Invalides, and soon afterward escaped from Paris.

<< On May 15, 1848, whilst the Constituent Assembly
were sitting, a mob burst in and filled the hall: the
members, however, showed considerable courage, and
kept their places for some hours ; at length they were
fairly expelled, Blanqui, Barbds, and Auber being the
leaders of the mob. Soon afterward strong bodies of
troops arrived, expelled the insurgents, and the Assembly
resumed its sittings the same evening." ^

A few years later tiie Assembly, under the iniquitous
coup cT^tat^ had to suffer the ignominy, like the Rump
Parliament of England some two centuries earlier, of
being turned out of its chamber by Napoleon's troops in
virtue of tiie emperor's illegal proclamation of Decem-
ber 2, 1861, dissolving the Chambers.

Again, on September 4, 1870, the Chamber was in-
vaded, though this time by the ^^ Sovereign People," and
I Mntny *a ** Handbook to Paris.**

MONUMENTAL PABI8. 63

the Deputies were dispersed, republican members making
their way to the Hdtel de Ville and helping to form the
new government, known as the Grovemment of National
Defence.

The massive iron railings in front of the northern
portico, which were put up at that time, serve like the
iron-barred windows of Apsley House, London, as a
significant reminder of the tumultuous scenes which
have taken place here. These iron bars, by which the
nation's representatives have to protect themselves
against the so-called << Sovereign People,'' afford a strik-
ing illustration of the essential fickleness and instability
of the French nation.

The tympanum crowning the colonnade is a magnifi-
cent piece of sculpture by Gorot. It is a well-conceived
allegorical composition representing France standing on
a tribune, holding in her right hand a tablet inscribed
with LibertSj EgalitS^ FratemitS. To the right and left
are groups representing Peace, Strength, Justice, Com-
merce, Industry, the Army, Navy, etc. Bight and left
of the flight of steps, under the colonnade, are placed
colossal statues of Justice and Prudence, while flanking
the iron railings are statues of Colbert, Sully, I'Hdpital
and d'Aguesseau. Every one who has seen the Madeleine
must notice the similarity between the two facades.
This resemblance is intentional, and the architect, Poyet,
copied the Madeleine fa9ade as closely as possible. This
was done at the suggestion of Napoleon I., who seems to
have seen the artistic value of the architectural vista of
the Rue Boyale and the Place de la Concorde, bounded
north and south by the magnificent Oreek porticoeS| for
the two buildings exactly face each other.

64 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

The interior is worth inspecting, and when the Hoose
is not sitting, visitors are shown most of the salons.
The actual meeting-place of the Chambers, the Salle des
Stances, is from an artistic point of view the least worth
visiting of any. The entrance to the palace is not
through the river portico, which is used only on state
occasions, but by the southern portico, the original one,
which faces the Place du Palais Bourbon.

The interior consists of a series of lofty salons and
wide corridors, adorned rather too plentifully with
statues, bas-reliefs and frescoes.

CHAPTER IV.

THE MADELBWE AND NOTABLE MODERN OHURCHIS.

** niat noble type is realiaed again
In perfect form and dedicate — to whom f
To a poor Syrian girl of lowest name —
A haplees creature, pitiful and frail
As ever wove her life in sin and shame 1 **

— B. M. MiLims.

The Madeleine, the Invalides, and the Panth^n may
conveniently be considered together, though the uses to
which they have been put are widely different, — the first,
begun as a church, continued as a kind of memorial of the
generals of the Orande Armde, and now reverted to its
original use as a place of divine worship ; the second, origi-
nally a church, but now used as a kind of Valhalla for
illustrious citizens of the Republic; and the so-called
Church of the Invalides (St. Louis), which is purely
and simply a royal mausoleum — the most conspicuous
embodiment of the Napoleonic legend in Paris.

The erring, but repentant, saint's memoiy is enshrined
in one of the finest of modem churches. For the Mad-
eleine, Uiough begun in 1764, must be considered a
modem church, as it was not completed and consecrated
till 1842. << Unlike other edifices of the kind,** writes
Mr. Lonergan, <<even including, to a certain extent,
Notre Dame, it stands out alone, unhidden by surround-

66 PABia IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

ing buildings. All its noble proportions are visible, it
raises itself proudly and prominently in one of the finest
parts of Paris, and eclipses its environments by its
stateliness and its size." This church is by most
tourists considered the most beautiful in Paris, after
the cathedral and the Holy Ghapel. It is certainly the
most successful modem attempt extant at an exact
replica of an ancient Greek temple.

To those whose travels have not taken them beyond
France, this beautiful temple will doubtless recall the
famous Maison Carrie at Ntmes, while on a moon-
light night it would not require a very powerful effort
of the spectator (who could ignore the essentially modem
surroundings, and shut his eyes and ears to the traffic of
Paris of to-day) to fancy himself facing the Temple of
Neptune on tiie Pestum plain.

The Madeleine gains much by its comparatively open
situation, for though its proportions are reduced by the
tall modem houses surrounding it, it is not so dwarfed
or so cramped as the famous historic churches on the
other side of the Seine. No doubt an ideal site for a
gpreat church, especially one in this purely classical style,
would be such as that possessed by the magnificent
basilica now being built on the heights of Montmartre.
The Madeleine is closely connected with Napoleon I.,
who intended to laicise the uncompleted church, and
convert it. into a sort of modem counterpart of a Greek
"Temple of Victory." This plan came to nothing,
however, and tiie building was finished as a church
during the reign of Louis Philippe. A trace of this
intention of Napoleon might perhaps be found in the
popular name of the church, for custom has decanonised

NOTABLE MODERN CHURCHES. 67

the Baint, and the church which should be properly
described as St. Mary Magdalen is always known as La
Madeleine.

The arrangement of the interior is curious. It has
been divided into compartments to form four lateral
chapels, which restrict the nave space considerably. On
this account, and also owing to the width of the side
colonnades, on entering the church most visitors are
surprised and disappointed at the apparently mean pro-
portions of tiie interior. Another peculiarity is the
absence of windows, the light coming from the top,
imitated probably from the Roman Pantheon.

The interest of the interior is mainly confined to tiie
paintings, statues, and varied mural decorations, which,
however, owing to the deficient light, are not seen to
advantage. There is a fine group of sculpture by Maro-
chetti above the high altar, representing the apotheosis
of Mary Magdalene. The church services here are
celebrated, and La Madeleine is one of the half dozen
Paris churches which are frequented for the music
alone. The excellent acoustic properties of the build-
ing add much to the enjoyment of the singing. It may
be mentioned that Chopin's Funeral' March was first
performed here, at the funeral of the composer himself.

The beautiful Church of the Invalides, which is such
a brilliant landmark with its shining dome, is one of the
most striking ecclesiastical buildings of Paris. It is,
however, emphatically an object to which distance lends
enchantment. A nearer view reveals the glaring artistic
defects of the exterior. It is obvious that the dome is
too big for the church, and the whole building is de-
cidedly inferior architecturally to the Pantheon, to which

68 PABia IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

it U often compared. The chief faults of the edifice are
thus summed up by Mr. P. 6. Hamerton : ^ Instead of
the majestic columns of Soufflof s work (Panthten),
his rich pediment, and the massive plain walls on each
side as margin, we have in the Invalides a poor little
pediment reduced to still more complete insignificance
by the obtrusive windows on each side of it" Still,
these criticisms are of the eognoBcetiH^ and, after all,
to nine out of ten visitors the Church of the Invalides
is Napoleon's tomb, and even experts unite in praising
the impressiveness and solemn beauty of the interior.

Every one is familiar with the curious disposition of
Napoleon's tomb. Most of us have looked down the
great marble well immediately under the dome, to gaze
upon the colossal sarcophagus of polished granite, with
the twelve gigantic statues representing Napoleon's
victories, which stand sentinel around the tomb.

Few, however, are aware of the reason for this arrange-
ment of Napoleon's mausoleum. It was a difficult prob-
lem the architect, Yisconti, had to solve. The tomb,
which almost seems to be the roMon d^itre of the church,
must be its most conspicuous object, and yet the archi-
tecture of the noble interior must not be sacrificed. The
difficulty has been overcome by this admirable contri-
vance of a raised tomb in an open circular crypt. <^ The
arrangement," observes Mr. Hamerton, <^does not in-
terfere in the slightest degree with the architecture of
the edifice, which would have been half hidden by a
colossal tomb on its own floor ; whilst we have only to
look over the parapet to be impressed witii the grandeur
and the poetic suitableness of the plan. With our cus-
toms of burial, we are all in the habit of looking down

NOTABLE MODERN CHUSCHES. 69

into a grave before it is filled up, and the impressiyeneaB
of Napoleon's tomb is greatly enhanced by our down-
ward gaze. We feel that, notwithstanding all this mag-
nificence, we are still looking down into a grave, — a
large grave with a sarcophagus in it instead of a coflSn,
but a grave, nevertheless.''

From the cornice below the roof there hangs a double
row of flags, taken chiefly during the wars of the Second
Empire. Among them the patriotic English visitor will
be as much surprised as distressed to see an English red
ensign, but not even the most Chauvinist of Frenchmen
can pretend that this is a genuine war trophy, consider-
ing that the two nations have been at peace for three-
quarters of a century. The flags taken during the
Napoleonic wars were burned in 1814 by the authori-
ties of the Hdtel des Invalides, to prevent the Allies
insisting on their restoration to the << country of origin."

If possible, strangers should attend the military high
mass held here every Sunday morning. <^ Then, when
the pensioners line the aisle, bearing their swords and
halberds, when the drums beat at the elevation, and the
old men present arms, the effect is botii grand and
intensely pathetic." ^

The great domed temple which has such an imposing
and striking aspect on the Hill of Sto. Genevieve, at the
end of the Rue Soufflot (named after its architect),
occupies the site of the ancient Angustinian abbey,
dedicated in the seventh century to Ste. Genevidve, the
patron saint of Paris, from whose gates the fifth centory
prototype of Joan of Arc had, as Oibbon says, *< diverted
the march of Attila."

18. 8. Beale.

70 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLXND0UB.

Mnch criticism has been levelled at the Pantheon, and
hardly any writer on Paris will allow us to forget Victor
Hugo's far-fetched and scoffing comparison to a wedding
cake. Certainly, though the Pantheon is a fine building
and a good example of classic architecture, it lies open
to the obvious objection of being absolutely meaningless
as a shrine for a medisval saint. What Soufflot alto-
gether forgot, remarks the author of an able French
monograph on the Pantii^on, <* c'est la donnde historique
de r^difice ; ce que se montre le moins dans son monu-
ment c'est la patronne et la sainte k laquelle il est ^rig^."

In one sense, St Denis and Ste. Genevidve might be
regarded as the rival saints of Paris, but St Denis is
ratiier the saint of the court and the nobles, while Ste.
Oenevidve is essentially the saint of the people.

The Fete of Ste. Genevidve at St Etienne du Mont is
still distinctiy popular, but it seems strange that no
church is dedicated to the memory of the patron saint
of Paris, who is only commemorated by the Genevieve
Library, — a curious memorial to a shepherd girl. In
one respect, the fate of this saint seems harder than that
of St Vincent He, it is true, was discredited, and his
church rededicated to St Germain, but at all events he
made way for another saint, whereas Ste. Genevidve has
to be content with the empty honour of a subsidiary
titie, — the Pantheon being sometimes called St. Gene-
vidve, — and her bones have been replaced by those of
tiie parvenu ennobled marshals of Napoleon I. and the
senators of the Second Empire.

The changes and vicissitudes of the Pantheon are
typical of the versatile and inconstant character of tiie
French as a nation.

NOTABLE MODBMN CHUSCHE8. 71

The church was built in f ulfihnent of a aolemn vow of
Louis XY., and dedicated to the tutelary saint of Paris,
Ste. Geneyidve. In 1791 it was laicised as a kind of
Valhalla of illustrious sons of the Republic. In 1806 it
was restored to its original uses, but was again secu-
larised in 1830.

Then, in 1851, Louis Napoleon had it reconsecrated,
but in 1885 the French wished it to be again converted
into a Pantheon to receive the body of Victor Hugo, and
it has remained a lay temple ever since. On the otiier
hand, something has been conceded to the clerical party
(who scrupulously avoid using its popular title and are
careful to use the saintly name). A cross has been
placed on the top of the pediment; there are several
elaborately decked altars in the interior ; and, finally,
the Republic government is still voting large sums
for the decoration of the walls with religious paint-
ings, which promises the continuance of the religious
character of the building. It is indeed quite possible
that before many years elapse there will be a serious
agitation for the reconsecration of the building.

A characteristic bon mot of Napoleon UI., in connec-
tion with the proposed removal of the Rousseau and
Voltaire monuments from the Pantii^on, is quoted :

The Archbishop of Paris wished the tombs removed
because ^his flock felt uncomfortable in the presence
of the two atheists.'' In vain did the emperor remind
the Archbishop that the ashes had long since been
removed. The Archbishop persisted in his request Fi-
nally, Napoleon lost patience and observed : ^ VbyanSy
monseigneur, how do you think those atheists felt in
the presence of your believers ? ''

PA am IN JT8 8PLEND0UB.

Am k> iti« nrohltootural and artistic merits or demerits
mC (^1m t^Attthdon, orltlolsm has been divided for more
llmti d o<^ttfcurXi The oharaoter and atmosphere of this
♦ Piuttf k»l4e bulldliHJ are admirably described by Mr. P. G.
lUlui^i^limi whoao remarks are worth quoting at some
\^s\^^\\ \ ** We can never fed, with regard to a severe,
^*Uiii^l^*ttl huilvliwg Uko ttie Pantfafon, the glow of roman-
kW^ \^p^\\fP ^\\\<^ fiUa sense and spirit in Notre
\Si>iSS\p ^^ ^\^ Sdinti^ ChapeUe. If there is emotion
\\^i^ \i (H \>X a 4illttftr«ttt kmL The buUding has a
^mv^y ^ivA «^xiM« <()i^t7; it k neither amnsing as
V^s*^nW^ ^vs'JKh^^V'I^w^ ^ftftwa tt bj its variety nor aston-
ifi^HH^ M <\nI)^^ ^oiiMuft^ ai« by the boldness with
^)K^>^ iW.x^ !|i^<^ ^ ^voAnaviflw tdbt ordinary oondiiioQ

>N ^fv <WN«m^ ^ ^»^ x^fih&i- wiisdkMia adds immensdy
t(^ ^th>^ ^i^>H^'?t^ ^f^ '^T^^ ^ tfttt <o«BijwKitioii^ wlulsi it
^^^t^i^^^N^ ^ Ht$i)M ^ ^ttit vRilhnmtt and pediment^ and

\h\m\_ in^ <i^iA, '111 iau%Bsni qprftifanttuw^ % wt/m

'— .rit^ TW?itt ^V7JIr-

LA SAIXTK CIIAPKLLK.

72 PABI8 IHr ITS 8PLBND0UB.

As to the architectural and artistic merits or demerits
of the Pantheon, criticism has been divided for more
than a century. The character and atmosphere of this
remarkable building are admirably described by Mr. P. 6.
Hamerton, whose remarks are worth quoting at some
length : <^ We can never feel, with regard to a severe,
classical building like the Panthten, the glow of roman-
tic pleasure which fills sense and spirit in Notre
Dame or the Sainte Chapelle. If there is emotion
here, it i)i of a different kind. The building has a
stately and severe dignity; it is neither amusing as
Gothic architecture often is by its variety nor aston-
ishing as Gothic buildings are by the boldness with
which they seem to contravene the ordinary condition
of matter.

*< The absence of any visible windows adds immensely
to the severity and gravity of the composition, whilst it
enhances the value of the columns and pediment, and
gives (by contrast) great additional lightness and beauty
to the admirable colonnade beneath the dome. There
does not exist, in modern architecture, a more striking
example of the value of a blank wall. The vast plain
spaces are overwhelming when seen near, and positively
required the little decoration which, in the shape of fes-
tooned garlands, relieves their upper portion. At a little
distance the building is seen to be, for the dome, what a
pedestal is for a statue ; and the projection of the tran-
septs on each side of the portico, when the edifice is
seen in front, acts as margin to an engraving. Had
their plain surfaces been enriched and varied with win-
dows, the front view would have lost half its meaning ;
the richness of the Corinthian capitals and sculptured

LA SAINTK CIIAPKLLK.

NOTABLE MODSBN CHUBCHS8. 73

tympanum, and the importance of the simple inscription,
draw the eye to themselves at once."

With the exception of the famous historical frescoes
and paintings, which deserve careful inspection, although
they are all modem, there is nothing in the bare and
cheerless interior to delay the stranger. Those fond of
architecture will, however, be struck by the curious com-
bination of massiveness and lightness in the columns and
vaulting respectively. It seems that Soufflot, the orig-
inal architect, had built somewhat slender pillars to
correspond with the arches and vaulting; for his ten-
dency, as Mr. Hamerton remarks, was, unlike that of the
architects of St Paul's and St. Peter's, toward an exces-
sive lightness. His elegant columns not proving strong
enough, his successor, Bondelet, replaced them with
massive piles of masonry. Hence the general effect, to
the eye of an expert, is incongruous and contradictory.

The unusually large amount of wall space has prac-
tically necessitated a thorough scheme of mural decora-
tion. Frescoes and paintings on this large scale can
be executed only at the cost of much time as well as
money, and the series of pictures is still incomplete,
though the work goes on steadily.

A great number of masters in this particular form of
painting are represented here, but perhaps the best work
is the magnificent series of subjects taken from the life
of Ste. Genevidve, by De Ghavannes, though he cannot
be compared for one moment with the great religious
painter, Flandrin. His treatment is almost as conven-
tional as a scene-painter's or a dioramist's. But these
paintings have one undeniable merit, and that is no
slight one. They tell the story as perfectiy as do the

74 PABI8 Iir ITS aPLSNDOUB.

elaborate compositions of Dor^. ^^A story has been
told upon the wall just as an inscription might have
been written upon it, but nothing has been done to take
the wall away. Even the pale tinting is so contrived
as not to contrast too violently with the natural stone
around it."

The leading episodes in the life of Ste. Genevidve are
also depicted by Delaunay, Maillot, and J. P. Laurens.
The most striking is Laurens's Death of Ste. Genevidve.
The treatment seems almost too vigorous and sensa-
tional for a mural decoration in a church, and is better
suited for a public gallery. Other pictures deal appro-
priately with scenes from the life of the other patron
saint of Paris, St. Denis.

It would seem that the tendency of nineteenth cen-
tury church architects has been either toward a revival
of Gothic, as in Ste. Glotilde and St. Bernard, or toward
an adoption of a thoroughly modem style, as in St.
Augustin and La Trinity !

The modem nineteenth century churches are, of
course, of slight artistic or architectural interest in
comparison with the historic fanes described in the last
chapter, but nevertheless one or two of the typical ones
should be visited.

The foregoing remarks do not, however, apply to the
magnificent Ghurch of St. Vincent de Paul, which is
indisputably one of the finest and most beautiful of
nineteenth century churches in Paris, if not in France.
St Vincent de Paul is close to the Gare du Nord, and
the magnificent portico shows to advantage by the com-
manding nature of the site. The architectural style is a
mixture of Byzantine and classical, though the Byzan-

NOTABLM MODXRM CHUBCHE8. 75

tine influence largely predominates. The chnrch was
began in 1824, but waa not completed till the next
reign, some twenty yean later. St. Vincent de Paul,
to whom the church is dedicated, was the founder of the
famous order, ^^ Petites Soeurs des Pauvres," so familiar
to us from their picturesque flapping headgear.

St Vincent, who was only canonised as late as 1747,
was bom in 1576, and was in early life a member of
the Franciscan Order. While at sea on a mission in
connection with his monastery, he was taken prisoner
by Barbary pirates and sent into slavery at Tunis.
After a captivity of ten years, he succeeded in escaping
to France. This experience in bondage seems to have
aroused a deep sympathy for all << prisoners and cap-
tives," and he began his good work by visiting the
prisons and galleys in France and pleading their cause.
Finally he founded the famous order of Sisters of Char-
ity, — a sisterhood of ^ secular nuns." St Vincent died
in 1660, and though he was not formally canonised by
the Vatican till nearly a century had elapsed, yet in
popular estimation the sanctity of him whom they called
<< Litendant de la Providence et Pdre des Pauvres" was
never in dispute.

The interior of the church deserves careful inspection,
for, whether regarded from the architectural or the
decorative standpoint, this basilica is one of the finest
modem churches in the whole of France. The famous
Flandrin friezes are considered by authorities as master-
pieces, and decidedly superior to the same master's
frescoes in St (Germain des Pr^s, already noticed. St
Vincent de Paul had died when this artist was at the
height of his reputation, and he was commissioned to

76 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

cover with frescoeB the wall space on each side of the
nave and the west end, for, owmg to the basilica form,
the available space for maral paintings was extensive*
Flandrin obtained his inspiration for these frescoes from
the S. ApoUinare Nuovo Church at Ravenna, and
perhaps, in beauty of form, Flandrin's frescoes are even
superior. ^^ Few, if any churches," observes Miss S. S.
Beale, ^ can show pictures so full of beauty as this Pro-
cession to Paradise, — a magnificent army of martyrs
who have gained the crown. There they walk with
stately steps, a hundred and fifty men and women,
carrying their emblems and their palms, and yet there
is no repetition ; each one has his own individuality, his
own idiosyncrasy. . • . For beauty of form, purity of
sentiment and spirituality, untainted by the least spark
of sentimentality, which is the bane of most modem
religious painting, this work of Flandrin may be classed
as the finest of our time."

The Church of St Philippe du Boule, in the Faubourg
St Honors, is, like St Augustin, La Trinity, St Thomas
d'Aquin, and the Madeleine, one of the fashionable
churches of Paris. It is a building in the Doric style,
but has no architectural interest whatever. It was in
this church that Pdre Didon preached those eloquent
and advanced sermons which brought him into such ill
odour with the more orthodox Roman Catholics. This
church, with the above mentioned rich and fashionable
churches, is a favourite one for marriages among the
beau tmmdej and may be compared in this respect with
St George's, Hanover Square, in London. The curte
of these churches are said to augment their incomes to
an enormous extent by fees for marriages, masses,

NOTABLE MODERN CHURCHES. 11

fanerals, etc. At many of these churches there is a
carefully regulated scale of fees for masses, according
to the altars at which they are said, a mass at the side
altars being much less than at the high altar.

When visiting the most recent of the modem churches
of Paris, La Trinity and St Augustin (see below), both
situated near the Gare St. Lazare, it is worth while to
turn aside to the Rue d'Anjou, close by, to visit the
memorial chapel to Louis XVL and Marie Antoinette,
over the spot where they were buried, which was then a
cemetery belonging to the Madeleine. This memorial
chapel is a heavy, forbidding-looking building and might
easily be mistaken for a prison or hospital. Even the
sentimental interest attaching to the memories of the
unfortunate Louis XVI. and other royal victims of
the Revolution is discounted by the fact that the coffins
have long since been removed, as we have seen, to St.
Denis. The actual bill of their sepulture is still pre-
served in the municipal archives : ^ M^moire des f rais
et des inhumations fais par Joly, fossoyeur de la Made-
leine de la Ville I'^vgque, pour les personnes mis 4 mort
par jugement du dit tribunal :

Savoir

da ler moia

Le 25 idem

La ye Capet. Pour la

bifere 6 livres.

Pour la fosse et les foesoyeors 25 livres."

At the Bestoration the remains of these royal victims
of the Revolution were removed to St Denis.

The chapel is in the form of a Greek cross, with a
small dome and portico. It was built by Louis XvliJ.,

78 PABia IN ITS 8PLSND0UE.

— who, it is said, wished to convert the Madeleine
instead into a memorial church, — and, though begun in
1816, it was not finished till ten years later.

The chapel contains portrait statues of the king and
queen by Bosio and Cortot, respectively. On the ped-
estal of Louis XVL is inscribed his last will, on that of
Marie Antoinette extracts from her last pathetic letter
to the saintly Princess Elisabeth, sister of Louis XYI.,
who is symbolised in the group as Religion.

In the Louis statue an angel is represented addressing
the famous exhortation of the Abb^ Edgewortfa to the
moribund king, <<Fils de St Louis, montez au ciel."
Serious historians do not, of course, accept this speech
as authentic, and it is well known that the abb^ admitted
himself that he could not remember using the words.
However, the speech will doubtless go down to posterity
along with the equally famous and equally mythical
apophthegm of Madame Roland on the scaffold : << Lib-
erty ! How many crimes are committed in thy name ! "

The ambitious and costly churches of the Second
Empire need not detain us long. La Trinity and St
Augustin are large and handsome buildings, but they
show many traces of the meretricious taste of that
period. The west front of La Trinity has some faint
resemblance to the modem restored facades of some
Tuscan cathedrals, such as Florence and Sienna. The
music here is very good, as at most of the rich and
fashionable churches of Paris. The funeral service of
Roerini was celebrated here in November, 1868. ^^ The
music was the finest ever heard out of St PeteFs,"
Mr. Lonergan writes in his << Paris Churches." ^ Nilsson
was there, and the duet between Alboni and Patti, the

NOTABLE MODEBN CHUBCHSS. 79

QuM est Homoj from BoBsini'B own < Stabat Mater/ set
strong men, as well as sentimental women, weeping
until their eyes were red. Rossini's coffin was covered
with Parma violets, his favourite flowers, and with ivy.
Then the remains were transferred to Pdre la Chaise,
where they were disinterred a few yean later, to be
placed beside Alfieri's bones in the Santa Croce at
Florence."

The Chnrch of St Augastin, which was the court
church of Napoleon III., is a costly and incongruous
modem blend of Bomanesque and Renaissance Gothic.
It is the newest church in Paris, having been built in
the sixties. It has been much criticised, chiefly adversely,
— for instance, the severe Mr. Hare calls it ^^ a climax
of vulgarity and bad taste, in which the use of cast iron
has its horrible apotheosis," alluding to the arcades of
open iron-work which support the roof. Still, many
people consider the church a handsome and imposing
edifice; and though it is incongruous in style and the
proportions are unpleasing, it has rather a fine effect at
a distance.

The third great church of the Second Empire, Ste.
Glotilde, on the south side of the river near the Invalides*
which is a conspicuous feature in the landscape with itB
elegant €k>thic spire, is a particularly successful example
of fourteenth century Gothic. It is difficult to
imagine that M. Ballu, the architect, was also respon-
sible for the ornate, elegant, but essentially modem-
looking church of La Trinity. Ste. Clotilde is perhaps
the finest nineteenth century purely Gothic church in
France. The colossal monumental Church or Basilica
of the Sacred Heart, on the heights of Montmartre, is

80 PAEI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

intended to eclipse all the efiforts of modem church
architects in Paris. This striking-looking building is,
next to the Eiffel Tower, the most prominent building
in the whole panorama of Paris. It is in the Byzantine
style, and was b^un in 1878 ; and though over twenty-
five million francs have been expended, the funds for
the completion of the dome (which, when finished, will
be the largest in Europe — 200 feet high) are still
wanting. As the government subsidy has all been
spent, and the builders are now totally dependent on
votive offerings, the progress is slow. It is stated that
the completion of the building on the original scale will
cost over fifty million francs.

The finest view in all Paris is to be had from the
scaffolding of the dome, extending on a clear day to the
hills of Ch&tillon and Meudon. The great curiosity of
the church is the huge bell known as the Savoyarde,
ten feet high and weighing over twenty tons, for which
a lofty campanile is to be erected behind the apse. This
bell is larger than the famous Le Bourdon of Notre
Dame, and is said to be the largest in France. It is, of
course, but a hand-bell in comparison with the huge bell
of the Kremlin, which is said to weigh over two hundred
tons, but then that is a mere curiosity, and has never
been hung or put to a legitimate use.

Not far from this modem basilica are the mins of one
of the oldest churches in Paris, — St. Pierre de Mont-
martre (built about 1185 on the site of a monastery),
which dates from the days of St. Denis. The stranger
interested in antiquarian and archsoological lore should
not forget to visit the Calvary or churchyard adjoining ;
not, indeed, for the sculpture, which is modem and poor,

NOTABLE MODERN CKUBCHEB. 81

but for the curious remains of the medi»yal monastery
which have been preserved in situ.

Enough space has now been taken up with the medi-
aeval, Renaissance, and modem churches of Paris, though
they deserve fuller study. Paris, like Rome, is as much
a city of churches as Grenoa or Venice is of palaces,
though, no doubt, most foreigners associate Paris with
pleasure rather than with religion.

CHAPTER V.

THE LOUYBB.

Strangers are too apt to regard the Palace of the
Louvre as merely the storehouse of a famous art collec-
tion, and to ignore the building itself. Yet the palace
deserres careful study as the handsomest Renaissance
building in France and the largest after Versailles, to
say nothing of its historical associations, which go back
to the seventh century. The origin of the Louvre has
been traced to a sort of hunting lodge, built by King
Dagobert, wolves being plentiful then in the marshes
and forests which bordered the Seine ; hence its name,
Louverie, from the low Latin, Lwpara^ according to the
generally received etymology.

But the etymology is obscure and conjectural. The
word Iwiiwe was, however, used familiarly (like the icw-
tSUi) for a royal castie. There have not been wanting
humourous conjectural derivations of the word. For
instance, one chronicler gravely declares that it was
so called by Philip Augustus as Vceuvre par excellence
(hence louvre)^ in the sense of ehef-JCctu/vrey as the finest
royal edifice in France !

There seems little doubt that the site of the Louvre was
so called long before any castle or fort was built upon it

In turn, a royal castle, a prison, an arsenal, and a
fort occupied the site of the present Louvre, which was

THE LOUVRE, 83

begun by Francis I. in 1541, and only finished some
three centories later by Napoleon in. There is still a
portion of the wall of this medi»yal fortress-palace in
the Salle des Gariatides.

With the reign of Francis I. everything Gothic went
out of fashion, and the doom of the magnificent old
castle, in which Charles V. (U Boge) had taken such pride
was sealed. ^ With the help of an inventiye and taste-
ful architect, Pierre Lescot, he began the Louvre that
we know, — colossal in scale, magnificent, palatial, — a
wonderful result of the study of antiquity, and of its
influence coming to the French through the Italian
mind.*' i

The wholesale destruction and rebuilding of the old
Oothic castle was virtually forced upon Francis's suc-
cessors, or the mixture of the Gothic and Renaissance
styles would have made the principal residence of the
French sovereigns a hybrid and incongruous structure.
Hence, it is not surprising that nearly all the French
kings from Francis I. to Napoleon III. seem to have
tested their architectural and constructive skill on the
Louvre. But in most instances they did little but tinker
at the huge pile. Henry lY., Louis XIII., and Louis
XIV., however, undertook the task of systematic rebuild-
ing and enlarging most energetically, and their work
was continued by Napoleon I. and Napoleon III. Dur-
ing the reigns of Louis XY. (who seems to have con-
fined his building energies to continuing and enlarging
the Palace of Yersailles) and Louis XYI., and during
the Republic, the work of restoring the Louvre was
suspended altogether.

ip. O. Hamerton.

84 PABI8 IN rra splenboue.

The long gallery which was to connect the Palace
of the Louvre with Catherine de Medici's new Palace of
the Tuileries was finished by Henry lY. Yet at that
time neither palace was completed. Mr. Hamerton
draws a striking parallel by imagining an English sov-
ereign, nnable to complete Buckingham or St. James's
Palaces, spending vast sums on a connecting building!

Vast as the Louvre is now, — occupying a wider area
than even the Vatican or the Escurial, — it is a mere
provincial ch&teau compared with the Louvre as de-
signed, but of course not executed, by Louis XIII.
<^If the palace contemplated by him had been carried
out, it would have extended to the Rue St Honor^, and
included four great quadrangles of the same size as the
present quadrangle, which, in its turn, is four times the
size of the old castie of Philippe Auguste. Nothing is
more remarkable in the history of royal living than the
great increase of scale that came in with the Renais-
sance. Li the old Gothic time kings were contented
with houses of moderate size, and, with the exception of
the great hall where the retainers assembled, the rooms
were seldom very large ; but no sooner had the Renais-
sance revolutionised men's ideas, than kings everywhere
suddenly discovered that vastness was essential to their
state."

This ruling passion was at length satisfied by Louis
XIV., who not only planned but actually built — but this
time at Versailles — a stupendous pile which has no
equal in scale in Europe. Then the new ^< demon of the
colossal," which had possessed the French kings for over
five centuries, was finally appeased.

One of the most distinguished architectural features

THE LOUVBE. 85

of the Louvre is Perrault's famous Facade at the eastern
end of the Old Louvre colonnade. This was the work
not of a professional architect, but a physician of the
name of Claude Perrault (brother of tiie famous author
of " Cinderella " and other fairy-tales). Colbert, whom
Louis XIY. had made superintendent of tiie royal
buildings, conceived the happy idea of putting up to
public competition the design for the fa9ade, a method
then almost unknown. Perrault's design was the one
which Colbert admired the most, and, in spite of the
jealousy (not, perhaps, unnatural under the circum-
stances) of the professional competitors, the amateur's
scheme was accepted. The first stone of the new build-
ing was laid with great ceremony by Louis XIY. in
October, 1665, and by 1670 this magnificent colonnade
was finished.

Perrault's eastern colonnade, taken by itself, is cer-
tainly grand and impressive, and even noble in its
severely classical style and magnificent proportions ; but
it has the fatal drawback of want of harmony with tiie
building to which it is supposed to be an accessory.
Then it had the serious structural defect of being out of
scale. It was some seventy feet too long for tiie north
and south fronts, when continued to form tiie quadran-
gle. Yet no architect, who has taken in hand the work
of completing the Louvre, has dared to interfere with
Perraulf s famous colonnade.

^ It may at once be objected to the new fa^de that,
with all its magnificence, it is quite out of harmony with
the style adopted in the four facades which form the
admirable quadrangle of tiie Louvre. But whatever
may be said against it, Perrault's colonnade is one of

86 PABI8 Iir IT8 8PLEND0UB.

the most remarkable conceptions of modem architec-
ture. When first erected, it was looked upon as an
unapproachable masterpiece; and it exercised upon
architecture abroad as well as at home a considerable
influence which still lasts." ^

The great scheme of Napoleon I., for a continuation of
the Louvre to join tiie Palace of the Tuileries, was
finally undertaken by Napoleon IH., whose architects were
Yisconti and Lefuel. Owing to the two palaces being
neitiier parallel nor at right angles to each other, the
task was one calculated to baffle the most skilful archi-
tect. Yisconti attempted to hide this grave defect by
adding two subsidiary enclosed courts, called pavilions,
to the inner sides of the north and south wings respec-
tively. As a means of concealing the lack of parallelism
between the north and south wings, tiiese magnificent
buildings must be considered a failure. But, after all, only
experts are likely to notice this fault in the perspective,
especially as it is only noticeable when standing near
the Triumphal Arch, at a point exactly midway between
the two wings of the Tuileries. From here it will be
seen that the entrance through the Pavilion de I'Horloge
is not exactiy in line with the entrance through the
Pavilion St Germain PAuxerrois.

Another objection is that the fine effect of tiie mag-
nificent facades of the new southern and northern pavil-
ions is somewhat discounted to the spectator, owing to
the comparatively narrow space between them. Still,
considered by themselves and not in connection with
the other buildings, Yisconti's pavilions are noble speci-
mens of palatial architecture. Any adverse criticism
1 H. Sutherland EdwaxtUu

THB LOUVBX. 87

10 nsoally based on their alleged ornateneas, ^ bnt^'' ob-
servea Mr. Hamerton, ^ this is an unintentional compli-
ment, for the fact is that his walls are extremely plain,
incomparably plainer than the new long gallery of the
Louvre. The great effect of richness in Yisconti's work
is due to the art with which he lavished ornament on
certain conspicuous places, especially on his pavilions."

The composite character of the building is brou^t
home to tiie observant spectator by the various royal
monograms carved on the stone on various portions of
the exterior. On the western wing is still the mono-
gram of Louis XIII. and his consort, Anne of Austria ;
also of Louis XIY. and Marie Th^rdse; on Perraulfs
colonnade the L. L. and crown of Louis XIY. appear
frequently, while in the north wing the letters L. B.
(Louis de Bourbon, an extremely rare monogram of
Louis XIY.) are to be seen. The E which may be
noticed on the south wing stands for Charles (Earolus)
IX. Catherine de Medici is commemorated by the
crossed K's which can be seen on the exterior of the
wing containing tiie Galerie d'Apollon. The mono-
grams of H and D (Henry II. and Diane de Poitiers)
may also be picked out from the rich Renaissance deco-
rations of the west wing of the old Louvre. On the
wings connecting the Louvre and the Tuileries the letter
N or an eagle indicates the connection of the Napoleonic
dynasty with this emphatically historical palace. In
short, there is scarcely a French sovereign, from Henry
n. to Napoleon HI., who has not literally as well as fig-
uratively left his mark on tiie walls of the Louvre.

The amount of money sunk on the building, rebuild-
ing, and enlargement of the two huge palaces, the Louvre

88 PABia IN ITS 8PLBNB0UB.

and the Tuileries, which cover an area of nearly fifty
acres, seems fabulous. It has been calculated approxi-
mately that the total expenditure cannot have been far
short of ten million pounds sterling. But this enormous
sum has been exceeded on that still more stupendous
pile, the Palace of Versailles, — the largest royal palace
in the world, — which is said to have cost over twenty
million pounds (not francs or dollars) from first to
last

The architectural and decorative details of the inte-
rior of the Louvre are usually lost upon visitors, most of
them, to tell the truth, being too wearied and confused
with gazing on hundreds and hundreds of pictures, and
with the vain attempt to differentiate between the
various schools. But the gorgeous mural decorations of
the Oalerie d'Apollon, with its beautifully carved ceil-
ing and tapestried panels, should not be ignored, and
the visitor might spare a few moments in an attempt to
take in the magnificent example of domestic Renais-
sance architecture afforded by tiie Salon Garr£, which,
more than any other salon, realises the magnificent idea
of Henry IV. And even that terribly long corridor
known as the Orande Oalerie is worthy of careful
inspection, though certainly its great length detracts
from its impressiveness, — the first effect on the mind
being that of a magnificent tunnel lined with pictures.

The clever caricaturist, Bobida, in his humourous
sketch of the Louvre of the Future shows us a tramway
running along this interminable gallery. Possibly many
out of the hordes of tourists who daily <<plod wearily
from end to end of that gilded and painted tunnel, with
minds distraught, and eyes that gaze on vacancy,"

woald
fancifol

But of crane tke gioK MBnesamm oE me Losire
tbe boDOtm an eauoeskmm, Tht Tfva» cc t
ooUectiao vm f <ned t^ Fnaes L vio eSi
any otiher of the giifg«± eecSBrr Fr
introdiiee tibe dervkped prodaeti of the laliam
sanoe ; for h mail aivaTB be borae im Kind that vhat
18 known as tibe Fini'—iiiri vaa *- in Italj a natural
growth, wfaereaa in Fraaee it waa a fMfaioo.^ Thia
eTpUiim the Terr abmpc traaKii^fu gapeciallj nodeeable
in architectme, between the mediaetal and Brmi ai ince
spirit. During diia period mediaeral eastiea were re-
placed by Bfniieainfir palarraj and Gothic by Brniia
aance charchei^ The art Uiaamta of Franda L were,
howerer, ecdlectod at Fontainebkan, and under later
flOTcreigna were alao preaerred at the Loxembooig and
Yersaillea. It waa not tOl the Berolutioa that the
Loayre waa made tbe national mnaenm of art, tiKM^i
Louis XIY. had temporarily hooaed bia collection in
this palace. The royal gallery waa enormooaly in-
creased under Loms XIV^ — in fact some four-fifths ol
the collection, as it now exists, waa formed by the Cframd
Monarque.

Until 1793, so far as tiie Frendi nation and forngn-
ers were concerned, the wealth of art treasures scattered
among the Tsrious royal palaces might not have existed
at all. In that year, by a decree of the ConyentioQ it
was ordered that a ^ Museum of the Bepublic " should
be formed at the Louvre, and the yarious art collections
in the ^ houses f ormeriy known as royal " transported
thither, finally, tiioug^ France was at that time

90 PABia IN IT8 SPLENDOUB.

crashed by an almost overwhelming burden of military
expenditure, and threatened by all the powers of Europe,
an annual sum of one hundred thousand francs for the
maintenance of the new museum was voted.

What seems at first the extraordinary inconsistency
of the French nation during the early years of the Revo-
lution is strikingly manifested in their attitude toward
art The most precious monuments of mediaeval and
Benaissance architecture, both sacred and profane, are
ruthlessly despoiled and mutilated, churches sacked and
pillaged, and works of art destroyed. Yet at the same
time the greatest pains are taken to form a national art
collection. It can, perhaps, be explained by the &ct
that the architectural monuments of Paris offended the
anti-monarchical sentiments of the nation. In fact it is
said that the reason so many church towers and steeples
were pulled down was because they were regarded as a
standing insult to the principle of equality.

That the collection is the largest, and, with the ex-
ception of the English and early Oerman schools, one
of the most representative in Europe, is not surprising
when we consider the special facilities the various
French governments possessed for forming a national
art gallery. Besides the first collection formed by
Francis I. and Henry II., which comprised the nucleus
of tiie Louvre, and the valuable private collection known
as the Cabinet du Boi (which was added to the public
gallery in 1775), the Revolution confiscated the enor-
mous number of art treasures from the sequestrated
chateaux of the royalist nobles, the laicised churches,
and suppressed monasteries. The best of these were
transferred to the Louvre. Then, during the Napoleonic

THB LOUVBX. 91

campaigns, the art treasorea which were taken aa tro-
phies of war were added to the Louvre collection. The
Louyre, indeed, in the first dozen years or so of the
present century, was to all intents and purposes the mu-
seum and fine art gallery of Europe. And though,
as we have seen, the Treaty of Paris provided for the
return of most of the chefs cToeupre of painting and
statuary to their former owners, yet a considerable pro-
portion were not given up. Thus no other European
nation has had such opportunities for forming a great
national collection of art

Some idea of the number and value of the works of
art which were restored to foreign museums may be
gathered from the fact that from one gallery alone
(Pitti Gallery, Florence) no less than sixty pictures were
removed to the Louvre.

Among the world-renowned pictures which were,
previous to the restoration of the monarchy, in the
possession of France, were Domenichino's Communion
of St Jerome (Vatican), Titian's Assumption (Venice),
Mantegna's Madonna Enthroned (Verona, see below),
Raphael's St Cecilia (Bologna), Rembrandt's Nig^t
Watch (Amsterdam), Murillo's St Elizabeth (Madrid),
Rubens's Descent from the Cross (Antwerp), Tintor^
etto's Miracle of St Mark (Venice), and The Lancers
of Velasquez.

Among the masterpieces of sculpture which France
was compelled in 1815 to restore to their owners are
the famous Belvedere Apollo, the Medicean Venus
(which Napoleon declared he wished to marry to the
famous Apollo), and the Laocoon.

In short, the originals of most of the antique sculp-

92 PABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

tares which are now reproduced in bronze in the Galerie
Denon were once in the Louvre galleries.

Since the fall of the First Empire there have been
few additions of importance from foreign countries to
the Louvre. The most valuable has been the Venus of
Milo, which was acquired in 1820 for the comparativelj
triflii^ sum of six thousand francs. This beautiful
statue has no doubt consoled France, to some extent,
for the loss of the Medicean Yenus. Under the Second
Empire the celebrated Conception of Murillo (see below)
was purchased for 615,000 francs.

The Third Republic, during the presidency of M. Thiers,
in spite of the crushing war indemnity to Prussia, actu-
ally paid the sum of over two hundred tiiousand francs
for a fresco which was attributed, but erroneously, to
Raphael (see below). This purchase is, however, a sore
subject with the Louvre authorities, as most critics
consider that this fresco is the work of Lo Spagna.

The most recent, 1899, acquisitions of the Louvre
galleries, which have not yet appeared in the official
catalogue, are derived from the late Baroness Nathaniel
de Rothschild's bequest of some of her best pictures.
These include several representative works of the
Florentine and Italian schools of the fifteenth cen-
tury. Among them are The Resurrection of Christ,
by Fra Angdico, Virgin and Child, by Botticelli, a
portrait by Del Sarto, The Glorious Virgin, by Tin-
toretto, and other masterpieces, some of which came
from Lord Northwick's collection.

Then the Louvre is continually augmented, so far as
regards French contemporary art, by the best pictures
transferred from the Luxembourg gallery.

TBE LOUVBE. 93

It is curious that the most important pictures in the
Louvre are not by native artists ; in this respect it re-
sembles our National Gallery and tiie Dresden (Gallery.
At Florence or Milan the best pictures are by Floren-
tine or Milanese artists ; at Venice most of the pictures
are Venetian; at Antwerp there are few but Flemish
paintings, etc. But in the Louvre are collected several
of the masterpieces of all the great schools. In short,
this is ^ a gallery of purple patches," where the following
great masters, Raphael, Titian, Da Vinci, and Mantegna,
are particularly well represented. As for Mantegna, his
works can be better studied in Paris even than in
Italy.

As to the order in which tiie various salons should be
visited, there are practically only two alternatives : the
convenient topographical order, — the favourite plan of
the guide-books, — or the more artistic as well as scien-
tific plan of visiting the various salons in chronological
order. Probably the visitor will find that following the
chronological sequence of the galleries will add much to
an intelligent as well as appreciative understanding of
the masterpieces of the Louvre.

We will begin, tiien, with the early Italian school
(VU. Salle des Primitifs Italiens, formerly Salle des
Sept Metres), where pictures by Cimabue, Oiotto and
his school, Fra Angelico, Botticelli, and Perugino are
hung. We shall not, as a rule, attempt to do more than
call attention to the masterpieces in each room.

1260. Oimabw. The Virgin attended by Angels. A
Byzantine influence is noticeable in this picture, which
bears a striking resemblance to Gimabue's well-known
picture in Sta. Maria Novella, Florence.

94 PABia IN ITS 8PLXND0UB.

1812. Oiotto. St Francis of Aflsun receiving the
Stigmata. This was painted for the Church of S.
Francesco at Pisa. The subject is a favourite with the
artists of the Oiotto school, who are often said to have
copied it very closely. The expression "copying," in
connection with painters of this period, is, however, apt
to convey a wrong impression, as suggesting more or
leas servile imitation. It must be remembered that all
early painters, especially those of the pre-Baphaelite pe-
riod, had to treat their sacred subjects with the general
traditional aspects and accessories. A more original
treatment would have inspired wonder and disgust in
the pious old-world folk. In short, they all followed to
a great extent the same motive in their treatment.

The famous Tondo (round picture) of Perugino,
representing the Madonna in Olory, has recently been
removed from here to the Salon Carrtf (see below).
Perugino is now only represented here by a Holy
Family, and an allegorical picture, the Combat between
Love and Chastity. Both of tiiese are inferior speci-
mens of this early master's work.

1294. Fra Angelieo. Martyrdom of Sts. Oodmo and
Damiano, patron saints of the Medici family.

1808. Fra Angelieo. Coronation of the Virgin. Painted
for a Dominican church at Fiesole. Crowded with histor^
ical episodes and symbolical details. Mr. Grant Allen
considers that two hours at least should be devoted to a
study of this picture alone. It is considered to be one
of the best of Fra Angelico's early pictures, — his finest
work was done in fresco. " The tender painting of this
lovely work needs no commendation."

Mantegna is well represented in the gallery. There

THE LOUVBE. 95

are three (formerly four) pictures of this Venetian
master. 1874, Yierge de la Yictoire ; 1875, Le Pamasse
(sometimes called the Loves of Venus and Mars) ; and
1876, Wisdom conquering the Vices. The first of these
is by far tiie best. It was painted for Gk>nzaga, to com-
memorate his victory over Charles VIII. of France.
^ This masterpiece is a page of chivalry in a frame of
chastity. These warrior saints, these rich decorations,
and this profusion of flowers and jewels give to religion
an unwonted aspect of triumph and brilliance which
lends originality to a somewhat hackneyed subject"
(Th&)phile Gauthier).

1158. Bellini. The Vir^n and Child witli Sts.
Peter and Sebastian, known as a plague picture. <* The
gentle, noble face, the dainty dress, the beautiful paint-
ing of the nude in the St Sebastian, are all redolent of
the finest age of Venetian painting."

1844. FUippo Lippi. The Virgin and Child, with
two saints, supposed to be St Zenobius and St. Anto-
nin, at her feet

Close by is another painting by this artist, — 1848,
The Nativity. Originally in the Church of Prato, near
Florence. Crowded with figures and accessories. Sub-
jects rather obscure. Certainly not one of those pictures
which tell their own story. "The ruined temple, fre-
quently seen in Nativities and Adorations of the Magi,
typifies the downfall of paganism before the advance of
Christianity."

1824. D. Ghirlandajo. The Visitation. Wonderfully
rich colouring is a noticeable feature of this work, which
is considered one of Ghirlandajo's finest easel pictures.
This picture has recently been removed from the Salon

96 PABI8 IN rra splsndoub.

Garr^. It was painted for tiie Church of Castello, near
Florence, but was not completed by Ghirlandajo, the
details being finished by his pupils.

1268. L. di Oredi The Virgin and Child with Sts.
Julien and Nicholas. A typical Renaissance picture
once unanimously admired, Yasari considering it the
painter's masterpiece.

1512. Lo Spoffna, The Eternal Fatiier. A fresco.
It is placed over the doorway. Of some adventitious
interest, as it was bought as a Raphael (see above). It
was originally in the Villa Magliana, near Rome.

The Salon Carr£ (Room IV.), to which a whole morn-
ing at least should be devoted, is, like the tribune of the
Uffizi, a kind of sanctum sanctorum of art, containing
the gems of all the galleries, irrespective of period or
country. This is a highly convenient arrangement for
nine visitors out of ten, but serious critics are by no
means in favour of it, as they consider it both inartistic
and unscientific. Unfortunately changes are often made
in tills gallery, — pictures being degraded or promoted in
a somewhat arbitrary fashion. The numbers, however,
given below will be found, with rare exceptions, to be
accurate.

Here are to be seen some of tiie finest examples
known of Correggio, Raphael, Titian, Leonardo da Vinci,
Paolo Veronese, Mantegna, Mnrillo, and Van Eyck.

The hurried tourist may be reminded that in this
salon are collected not only the masterpieces of the
Louvre, but at least six paintings which are historic,
and, indeed, world-famed, — Raphael's La Belle Jar-
diniere, Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, Murillo's
Immaculate Conception, Correggio's Marriage of St

THE LOUVBS. 97

Catiierine, Titian's Entombment, and Veronese's Mar-
riage at Cana.

1118. Corregffio. Jupiter and Antiope. ^^ Perfection
of art, very little feeling."

1878. Mantegna. The Crucifixion. This painting,
perhaps the finest example of Mantegna in tiie Louvre
or elsewhere, formed the predella of tiie great Madonna
by this master in San Zeno, at Verona. Both were
formerly in the Louvre, but at the Restoration the
Madonna was returned to San Zeno.

1117. Correggio. The Marriage of St Catherine.
This is perhaps the best known of any of Ihis famous
colourist's work. << The whole work, though admirable
as art, has in it notiiing of religion, and may be aptly
compared as to tone with the Education of Cupid by the
same artist, in the National Gallery."

1584. Titian. The Entombment. This picture is
faded, but it is a fine work. Gauthier, however, con-
siders that it << lacks the profound Christian melancholy
such a subject requires."

2547. Bembrandt. Portrait of a Woman. One of
the best by this master in the Louvre.

1504. Raphael. St. Michael overthrowing the Devil.
This is the famous St Michael painted for Francis I.
<< This picture may be taken, in its spirit and vigour, as
marking the culminating point of the Italian Renaissance
as here represented."

1192. Paolo Veronese. The Marriage in Cana. This
picture has earned factitious popularity with tourists,
owing to its vast size, which in the opinion of the
guides seems to constitute its chief claim to atten-
tion. It is certainly an enormous picture, occupying

98 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLXND0UB.

the whole of one side of tiie salon. It was painted for
the refectory of the San Giorgio Maggiore Monastery, at
Venice. But in spite of its size it is an admirable com-
position and << a most characteristic picture both of the
painter and his epoch." Most of tiie figures of tiie
guests at the marriage feast are portraits. The bride
is Eleanor of Austria, while next her in a yellow dress
is Queen Mary of England. Contemporary painters are
introduced among the groups of musicians ; the painter
himself plays on tiie cello, while Titian plays the bass
viol and Bassano the flute. The treatment of this bril-
liant canvas is essentially scenic rather than sacred.

1598. Leonardo da Vinci. St. Anne and the Virgin.
One of the most beautiful and sympatiietic pictures in
the Louvre. The Virgin is seated on tiie knees of St
Anne, leaning toward the infant Christ, who plays with
a lamb.

1986. J. Van Eych. Madonna, Holy Child, and
Adorer (the donor of the picture). By some tihought
Van Eyck's masterpiece. This picture is virtually a
portrait of the adorer (Chancellor Bollin). Patrons in
the mediaeval times were in the habit of getting their
portraits painted in this indirect manner, it being under-
stood that when a picture of the Madonna or donor's
patron saint was commissioned, the donor should be
painted somewhere in the picture, generally as an
adorer or worshipper.

1709. MurUlo. The Immaculate Conception. This
picture, familiar to every one from engravings and photo-
graphs, is probably the most popular in the whole of this
vast collection. The picture is meant to illustrate the
verse in Revelations, ^ And there appeared a great won*

THE LOUVBE. 99

der in the heavens ; a woman clothed with the sun, and
the moon under her feet, and npon her head a crown of
twelve Btara."

The picture was purchased from the Soult collection
in 1852, and cost over JS 24,000. The story of its acqui-
sition bj Marshal Soult during the Peninsular War is
romantic. A certain monk had been sentenced to death
as a spji and two monks from the same monastery came
to intercede with the marshal for the life of their brother.
Soult proved obdurate until the monks produced this
precious picture from their chapel, and the marshal
accepted it as the price of the monk's freedom.

1496. Raphael. Madonna and Ohild with infant St.
John. This picture, popularly known as La Belle Jar-
dinidre, is perhaps the most beautiful Raphael in the
Louvre. It belongs to the Florentine period of the
painter. The artistic life of Raphael falls into three
distinct periods, each of which is well marked by the
famous Madonnas so beautifully summed up by Robert
Browning:

« Her, San Sisto names, and her, Folipio,
Her that yisits Florence in a yision.
Her that's left with lilies in the Louvre,
Seen by us and all the world in circle.^

After carefully examining tiiis picture it is instructive
to go back to the St Michael (see above) and notice
how charm is sacrificed to vigour in the latter painting.

1489. Raphael. Holy Family (generally known by
the somewhat ambiguous title of *< La Sainte FamiUe de
Francois I.*^). A far less pleasing example of Raphael's
Fork than La Belle Jardinidre, though doubtiess supe-

100 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

nor in technique ; ^ admirable in composition and paint-
ing, but lacking the simplicity and delicacy of colour of
his earlier work."

1967. A. Van Dyeh. Charles I. of England. One
of the most famous royal portraits in existence. Origi-
nally in the collection of Charles I., which was even-
tually bought en bloe by Louis XIY.

1601. Leonardo da Fineu LaGioconda. Portrait of
Mona (Madonna) Lisa, wife of Francesco del Giocondo,
of Florence.

Th^ophile Gkiuthier has made tiiis celebrated picture
tiie subject of one of his most striking criticisms. ^< La
Joconde, sphinx of beauty," he exclaims, << smiling so
mysteriously in the frame of Leonardo da Yinci, and
apparently proposing to the admiration of centuries an
enigma which they have not yet solved, an invincible
attraction still brings me back toward you. Who,
indeed, has not remained for long hours before that
head, bathed in tiie half-tones of twilight, enveloped in
transparency, whose features, melodiously drowned in a
violet vapour, seem the creation of some dream through
the black gauze of sleep ! From what planet has fallen
in the midst of an azure landscape this strange being,
whose gaze promises unheard-of delights, whose expres-
sion is divinely ironical ? Leonardo impresses upon his
faces such a stamp of superiority that one feels troubled
in their presence. The partial shadow of their deep
eyes hides secrets forbidden to tiie profane, and the
curves of their mocking lips are wor&y of gods who
know everything and calmly despise the vulgarities of
man. What disturbing pity, what superhuman cyni-
cism in tiiese sombre pupils, in these lips undulating

THE LOUVBS. 101

like the bow of Cupid after he has shot his arrow. La
Joconde would seem to be the Isis of some cryptic
religion, who, thinking herself alone, draws aside the
folds of her veil, even though the rash mortal who
might surprise her should go mad and die. Never did
feminine ideal clothe itself in more irresistible, seductive
form. Be sure that if Don Juan had met Mona Lisa,
he would have spared himself the labour of writing in
his catalogue the names of three thousand women. He
would have embraced one, and the wings of his desire
would have refused to carry him farther."

1564. Pertigino. The Madonna in Glory. Saint Rose
is on the left and Saint Catherine on the right, with ador-
ing angels in the background. ^< An exquisite example
of the affected tenderness, delicate grace, and brilliant
colouring of tiie Umbrian master, from whose school
Baphael proceeded." This picture was formerly in the
Salle des Primitifis.

2348. G^ard Dou (or Dow^. The Dropsical
Woman. This famous painting is certainly the Dutch
painter's masterpiece. ^^A triumph of Dutch painting
of light and shade and detail."

1731. Veliuqtiez. The Infanta Margaret Not per-
haps the best known, but one of the best portraits by this
famous Spanish master.

We have now seen tiie best pictures in the Salon
Carr^, but in a collection in which every specimen is a
gem, it seems a pity to leave any single picture unno-
ticed. At all events, no one should attempt to see
the Louvre unless at least one whole morning can be
allotted to this salon alone.

The best pictures in the appallingly long Grande

102 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Oalerie can only be barely mentioned. The series of
Titians, conveniently placed in one compartment, must
not of coarse be omitted. There are also some early
Raphaels, of which the best is St. Margaret, painted for
Francis I., whose sister was Queen Margaret of Navarre.
These Baphaels, showing the Perugino influence of this
artist's earlier style, should be carefully studied. ^ Ra-
phael progressed rapidly in knowledge and skill at
Florence and Rome, but showed a tendency in his last
works toward the incipient faults of the Italian Renais-
sance. By following him here in conjunction with
Florence and Rome, you can gain an idea of the course
of his development''

In the next division is tiie small, but very choice,
collection of Spanish pictures. There are some excel-
lent examples of Velasquez and Murillo, among them
the former painter's famous portrait of Philip lY. of
Spain, — one of his best works. Murillo's Nativity of
the Virgin is not, indeed, one of his best paintings, but
the colouring is particularly rich. The Italian Renais-
sance influence is much in evidence in this picture.

The columns which divide the bays or compartments
in the Grande Galerie are ancient They were taken
from a Roman temple in Tunisia by Louis XIV. to sup-
port a baldachino in the Church of St Oermain des
Pr^s, and when this church was dismantled, in the Revo-
lution, tiiey were brought here.

In the next compartment (Bay G), which contains
pictures of the early French school, there is nothing to
delay the ordinary visitor, and those who can give but a
couple of days to the Louvre collection will probably be
satisfied witii a cursory glance at Foucquet's portrait of

THE LOUVBB. 103

Charles YII. (289), one of tiie best examples of this
schooL

But even the hurried tourist should find time for a care-
ful inspection of Quentin Matsys's celebrated Banker and
Wife (279). The exquisite workmanship and truthful
details are yery noticeable in this famous picture.

In this compartment is the famous series of histori-
cal pictures, by Rubens, which constitutes a biography in
oil (naturally much idealised by tiie painter-courtier)
of Queen Marie de Medicis. Rubens has treated his
august subject in the inflated, allegorical style which
was expected by royal patrons at that period. To
understand the remarkable series (which consists of
twenty-one pictures), some knowledge of French and
Italian history of that time is absolutely necessary.
<* Those great decoratiye canvases were painted hur-
riedly, with even more than Rubens's usual dash and
freedom, to Marie's order after her return from exile,
for tiie decoration of her rooms at tiie Luxembourg
which she had just erected. Though designed by
Rubens, they were largely executed by tiie hands of
pupils ; and while possessing all the master's exuberant
qualities in composition, they are not favourable speci-
mens of his art as regards execution and technique. It
is to be regretted that most Englishmen and Frenchmen
form their impressions of the painter from these vig-
orous but rapid pictures, rather tiian from his nobler
works at Antwerp, Munich, and at Vienna."

It is unnecessary to explain the scenes from the life
of the queen depicted in the pictures, as all the guide-
books give full descriptions.

English art is very poorly represented in the Louvre,

104 PARia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

but there are a few good examples of Constable and
Lawrence.

Naturally, French art is well represented, there being
over a thousand specimens of the various French
schools, but visitors should supplement the Louvre with
visits to the Luxembourg and Versailles galleries.
Most tourists, however, will lack the courage to attack
systematically even the collection at the Louvre alone,
and certainly many of the pictures, especially those of
the seventeenth century, lack individuality and are
decidedly uninteresting. Some of the best French pic-
tures are in the Salon Carr^, and a few early French
masters are in Booms IX. and XIIL, but most of the
seventeenth century paintings are in the large gallery
numbered XIV. The most noticeable pictures in this
enormous collection, after Claude Lorrain's and Poussin's
masterpieces, are Le Sueur's Christ and Mary Magdalen,
and Lebrun's Crucifixion. A cursory examination of
these pictures will perhaps serve to illustrate the influ-
ence of the decadent Italian and late Flemish schools
on French art of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-
turies. << The final outcome is a resultant of the two,
transmuted and moulded in spirit and form by the
innate, though at first unrealised, French tendencies."

In the next room (No. XY.) a collection of portraits
of painters, painted by themselves, has been brought
together in imitation of the famous' collection at the
Uffizi of Florence. The best is the famous portrait of
Madame Lebrun and her daughter, in which maternal
and filial love are feelingly expressed. This portrait is
far better than the duplicate one in Salle des Sept
Chemin^es.

THE LOUVRE. 105

Beyond this room is the gallery of ei^teenth cen-
tury pictores (Boom XVI.), for the most part mere-
tricious and artificial, reflecting the royal boudoir just as
the seventeenth century collection reflects the court
rather than tiie nation. Even the famous Cruche
Gass^e, Greuze's masterpiece, which is so popular with
most visitors, is characterised by a certain sham simplic-
ity not apparent at a first glance. This painter, unless
we except Watteau or Boucher, is the leading exponent
of this school ; they are all well represented in this
gallery.

In order to preserve tiie chronological order of the
French school, it is advisable to postpone tiie visit to
the next room (No. YIII.) till the pictures in the Salle
des Sept Chemin^es (Boom III.) have been examined.
This salon, which contains pictures of the empire, has
been termed the Salon Carr£ de la Peinture Fran9aise,
but not very appropriately, for the best French pictures
are not here, nor can David (whose pictures form the
chief attraction) be considered the most representative
French artist The pictures here, partly owing to the
melodramatic subjects, are, however, found very attract-
ive by most visitors. Here is David's celebrated Sabine
Women (188), an excellent example of his formal clas-
sicism, which is, next to his Oath of the Tennis Court,
usually reckoned as his masterpiece. Another famous
painting by this artist is the huge canvas of the Coro-
nation of Napoleon I. But the most striking picture of
all is Theodore G6ricaul<fs painfully realistic and sen-
sational Wreck of the Medusa. It represents the survi-
vors on the raft sighting a ship after twelve days'
sufiferings, and is a remarkably vigorous and convincing

106 PABia m ITS 8PLXND0UB.

picture. This picture may be regarded as a landmark
in the history of French painting, as the forerunner of
the emotional influence so characteristic in modem
French art It created an extraordinary sensation
when it was first exhibited in 1819, and proToked end-
less discussion and criticism in art circles. Another
celebrated picture of the same style is Gros's Visit of
Napoleon to tiie Victims of the Plague at Jaffa,
equally vigorous and dramatic, but gruesome and
morbid.

We may now retrace our steps to Boom VilL (under
Napoleon IQ. the Salle des l^tats), where the pictures of
the Bestoration and the Second Empire are collected.
This school might be described as the romantic histori-
cal school, and at all eyents the pictures have the
undeniable merit of << telling their own story." The
pictures best worth noticing are Delaroche's Death of
Queen Elizabeth (216), Delacroix's Dante and Virgil
(207), Horace Vemefs Barridre de Clichy in 1814
(956), and Dev^ria's Birth of Henry IV. (250). These
are perhaps the best examples of the picturesque treat-
ment of history, in which the artists haye apparentiy
attempted pictorially what Sir Walter Scott and Victor
Hugo attempted in literature. In this salle are also
some beautiful landscapes by Corot and Bousseau and a
couple of Millef s exquisite pastoral scenes. The
latter's Gleaners (644) recalls the poetic treatment of
the painter's famous Angelus. Ary Scheffer's religious
compositions, notably tiie Temptation in the Wilderness
(840), should also not be oyerlooked. In some respects
tills gallery is tiie most instructive of any in the Louvre,
as it represents the principal tendencies which have so

THE LOUVRE. 107

largely influenced modem art in France. "It attains
to the threshold of cosmopolitanism in its Arabs, its
negroes and its Algerian women ; it is bloodthirsty and
sensuous; it is calm and meditative; it dashes with
Courbet; it refines with Millet; it oscillates between
the world, the flesh, and the devil; it is pious and
meretricious; it sums up in itself the endless contra-
dictions and interlacing tendencies of the nineteenth
century/'

CHAPTER VI.

THE LOUYBB ( 0OntiniC6£{) AND THE LUXEBCBOURO.

The magnificent collectiong of ancient and Renaich
sance sculpture in the Louvre, being usually left to the
lasty are apt to be somewhat superficially noticed by
most visitors. Yet in number and value of specimens
the Louvre sculpture is hardly to be surpassed by any
of tiie great collections of Europe. The collections are
divided into three great divisions, the classical, Renais-
sance and modem sections occupying separate buildings.
The most valuable, either from the artistic or commer-
cial point of view, is the collection of classical sculpture
which is housed in the basement of a portion of the old
Louvre and in the wing beneath tiie Oalerie d'Apollon.
The ehrf$^€euvrej after the world-famed Yenus de Milo,
are undoubtedly tiie Yenus of Aries, tiie Diana of Gkibii,
tiie Samothracian Nike, and the Apollo Sauroctonus (pop-
ularly known as the ^* Lizardndayer **), and these deserve
to be included in the same category as the Hermes of
Praxiteles, the Yenus de Medici, Ihe Belvedere Apollo,
etc, as the greatest masterpieces of antique plastic art
yet discovered.

It would be well to begin the study of the antique
sculptures by climbing the Escalier Daru, tiie principal
entrance to the picture-galleries, once more, so as to
inspect more carefully the famous Nike of Samothraoe,

108

THE LOUVBM AND THE LUXMMBOURQ. 109

which occupies a camiMnding podtion near the \af of
the staircase. The willed figure stands like a figure-
head on the brow of a trireme. It commemorates a
nayal victory B. G. 805, and the idea of the sculptor
is to represent Victory descending from Olympus and
alighting on the ship of the conqueror. The dignity of
conception, vigour of attitude, and skilful handling of
the flowing drapery, mark this famous statue, although
much mutilated, as one of the finest works of early
Greek art

We now enter the Salle de Phidias, which serves as
the Salon Carr£ of the Louvre Sculptures. Here are
some portions of Ihe Parthenon frieze, which has to be
represented by a cast in the Elgin Gallery in the British
Museum. Some experts consider that this is the actual
work of Phidias himself. Here are also the celebrated
bas-reliefs from the Isle of Thasos, of an earlier period
than the Parthenon, discovered as recently as 1867.
These were taken from a temple dedicated to Apollo,
and << exemplify the gradual increase in freedom and
power of modelling during the early part of the fifth
century B. C. From this lime forward the advance
became incredibly rapid."

We next enter Ihe long gallery, passing by teveral
sculptures, of which the Hermaphrodite of Yelletri and
the Sarcophagi of Medea and Adonis are the best, and
would demand careful inspection anywhere but in the
Louvre, with its embarrassing wealth of art treasures^
and finally reach the famous Yenus of Milo, perhaps
the finest ancient statue in the whole collection, and
even better known than Ihe sister statue of the TTffizi.
This statue embodies the highest Greek ideal of love.

110 PABia IN ITS 8PLSNB0UR.

^< Nothing could better show tiie incredible wealth of
Greek plastic art, indeed, than tiie fact that this exquis-
ite Aphrodite was produced by a nameless sculptor, and
seems to have been far surpassed by many other works
of its own period. In type, it belongs to a school which
forms a transition between the perfect early grace and
purity of Phidias and his pupils, and the later more
self-conscious and deliberate style of Praxiteles and his
contemporaries. Not quite so pure as tiie former, it is
free from the obvious striving after effect in the latter,
and from the slightly affected prettiness well illustrated
here in the group of Silenus with the infant Bacchus.
It exhibits the perfect ideal — artistic and anatomical —
of the beautiful, healthy, nude female form for the white
race. Notice in particular the exquisite texture of the
skin ; the perfect moderation of tiie form, which is well
developed and amply covered, without the faintest tinge
of voluptuous excess, such as one gets in late works;
and tiie intellectual and moral nobility of the features.
No object in tiie Louvre deserves longer study. It is
one of the finest classical works that survive in Europe."

Many portions are missing, but, fortunately, neither in
tiiis case nor in that of the Samothracian Victory has
any conjectural restoration been attempted. Some critics
consider that this so-called Aphrodite was really meant
to represent a Nike (Victory) grasping a shield with
one hand, while some suppose the other held a winged
figure on an orb.

Parallel with the gallery in which this Venus is in-
stalled is a series of salons containing Graeco^Boman
sculptures, relieved by a few fine specimens of ancient
Greek sculpture. These salons are usually named after

THE LOUVBE AND THE LUXEMBOUBG. Ill

the most important work they contain. In tiie second
room (Salle de la Pallas de Yelletri) is the famous
Yenus of Aries, an ancient Greek statue found at Aries
in 1651. This statue, after the Yenus of Milo, is gener-
ally considered the most beautiful sculptured represen-
tation of the female form in the LouTre. Close by is
the Apollo Sauroctonus (Lizard-slayer), a marble oop>
of the bronze by Praxiteles. Here, also, is tiie beautiful
Pallas known as the Yelletri Pallas, from the place of
its discovery in 1797, which is a fine Roman copy of
a Greek work of the Phidian age. In the next salon
(Salle du H^ros Gombattant) tiie celebrated Borghese
Gladiator occupies a prominent position in the centre.
This admirable and powerfully conceived statue, the work
of Agasias of Ephesus, was discovered at Antium, near
Rome.

But the great attraction in this room is the famous
ideal statue of a girl, popularly but incorrectly described
as the Diana of Grabii. This is a charmingly executed
piece of workmanship, but is more suggestive of the
Italian Renaissance than of Grecian sculpture.

The next room (Salle du Tibre) contains two magnif-
icent works, the Diana of Yersailles and the colossal
figure of the deified Tiber. The Diana was probably
executed at Rome by a Greek artist during tiie first
century, and was ultimately purchased by Francis I.
^< It is a charming, graceful, and delicate figure of the age
of declining art, exactly adapted to take the French
fancy of that awakening period." In fact, there can be
no doubt that Jean Goujon's celebrated Diana, in the
salle named after tiiat artist, was directly inspired by this
statue.

112 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

At file end of the salle is the colossal recumbent
statue representing Father Tiber, which was probably
intended as a pendant to the well-known Nile in the
Yatican, of which there is a good copy in the Tuileries
Gardens.

Opposite this salle is the large Hall of the Caryatids,
which is of perhaps greater historical than artistic inter-
est It is the oldest portion of the Louvre, and is asso-
ciated with several important episodes in French history.

The four Caryatids are by Jean Goujon, who was
employed by Henry II. for most of the decorations of
the Louvre. The most noticeable statue here is the
Borghese Hermaphrodite, much inferior to that of
Yelletri. Bernini has spoiled the statue by adding a
mattress. At the end of the salle is an ancient ala-
baster vase which possesses some factitious interest,
owing to its curious acoustic properties. The slight-
est whisper emitted at its edge is distinctly audible at
the edge of a similar vase at the other end of the
salon.

The Roman galleries, containing a large collection of
statues, chiefly portrait busts of Roman emperors and
other sculptures of the imperial epoch, are compara-
tively uninteresting, and need not be visited by ordi-
nary tourists. There is one statue, however (Salle
4'Auguste), which even hurried visitors would regret
omitting. This is the famous Antinous, the favourite
of the Emperor Hadrian. <^He is here represented in
a grave and rigid style somewhat faintly reminiscent of
Egyptian art, and with the attribute of Bacchus or (more
ancient) Osiris/' Notice the lotus flowers entwined in
the hair. This is emblematical of the manner of his

THE LOUVBB AND THE LUXEMBOUBO. 113

death. He is said to have drowned himself in the Nile
in order to become a totelary genius of his imperial
patron. On this account Ihe emperor deified him, and
dedicated a temple to him in an Egyptian city which he
named after him.

The Renaissance sculpture being approached by a sepa-
rate entrance, and occupying a set of isolated rooms next
the Egyptian antiquities, is often omitted altogether by
touristo. But no one can afford to miss this Taluable
and unique collection; indeed, eyen those who cannot
devote more than a couple of days to the Louvre should
give at least an hour or two to this sculptare, — at all
evente the French Renaissance sculpture portion, for
some of the best Italian Renaissance sculptore can be
seen at Rome and Florence, while for French plastic
work the Louvre affords tiie only important opportunity
of seeing a large and comprehensive selection of the
work of Goujon, Pilon, and their school. As for the
showy and meretricious modem sculpture, not much
would be lost by omitting it altogether.

It will be found more interesting as well as more
instructive not to follow the usual guide-book order, but
to visit first Ihe (1) Mediaeval sculpture, then Ihat of
the (2) Italian Renaissance, and lasUy (8) the French
Renaissance sculptore, which is based largely on Italian
models. By Ihis method one appreciates better the devel-
opment of French plastic art In order to carry this
sequence of art to ite ultimate development, one might
supplement the stady of the schools above enumerated
by a hasty glimpse at the artistically poor modem sculp-
ture, which is ^ chiefly interesting as bridging the lament-
able gap between the fine Renaissance work of the age

114 PABia IN ITS aPLENDOUB.

of the later Yalois, and the productionB of contemporary
French sculptors."

The works of tiie early French school of the tentii to
file fifteenth centuries are in Booms I., II., and m.

For these collections the official catalogue is really
almost essential, as the most valuable objects are not
independent works, but consist of statues, sculptured
fragments of facades and portals, tomb-effigies, portions
of rood-loftB, choir screens, etc., from French cathedrals
and abbeys. Many of tiiese were saved by Lenoir
at the time of the wholesale pillage and mutilation of
Paris churches during the Revolution, and have finally
found an ayslum in the Louvre. In Boom I. (Salle de
Beauneveu) there is a curious Nativity beautifully carved
in wood, which is worth careful inspection. It is evidently
of Flemish origin. Here we see the conventional treat-
ment of the ox and ass, with the Magi on the right
balanced by the shepherds on the left, but the candle
which St. Joseph carries is a quaint novelty. In Boom
II. (Salle du Moyen Age) the most conspicuous sculp-
ture is a gorgeous coloured thirteenth century statue of
King Ghildebert. This was originally in the Abbey of
St. Germain-des-Pr^s, where the king was buried.

The next room (Salle de Michel Colombo) affords a
capital object-lesson in the development of French sculp-
ture during the last half of the fifteenth and the begin-
ning of the sixteenth centuries, when it was organic and
hardly influenced at all by Italian art. Colombo, after
whom the room is named, was the chief representative
of tiie school of this period, and has some excellent
work here, notably a Madonna and a St. (George and
the Dragon.

THE LOUVBE AND THE LUXEMBOURG. 115

A magnificent relief of the Betom of the Master,
I from the Ch&teau de Gaillon, shows, however, distinct

I traces of Italian Renaissance influence. This exhibits

the ^^ beginning of a taste for secular, domestic, and
rustic subjects, which later became general," for, as Mr.
Grant Allen reminds us, Italian influence is chiefly seen
in connection with the decoration of royal castles of
Francis I. and his successors; it affects the court, in
short, for the nation is, as yet, little touched by the new
models.

The Italian Renaissance sculpture (which is, of course,
best studied at Florence, Venice, or Rome) is contained
in Rooms V. and YI. We will take Room VI. first, as
the grand sculptures of Donatello are shown here, and
this master represents a less mature school than does
Michael Angelo (Room V.). The best work of this
sculptor is the beautiful St. John, the patron saint of
Florence. Then, near the window, his charming bust
of a child, << exhibiting the exquisite unconscious naivete
of the early Renaissance," should not be overlooked.

In the Salle de Michel Ange the chief features are
the celebrated so-called Fettered Slaves, — really personi-
fications of the Virtues by the great Florentine sculptor.
These were executed for a sepulchral monument to Pope
Julius II., and were meant to represent the Virtues
fettered and doomed to death in consequence of the
Pope's decease. «^ This splendid monument, interrupted
by the too early death of the Pope who commissioned it,
was to have embraced (among other features) figures
of the Virtues doomed to extinction by the death of
the pontiff. There are two of them; the one to the
right, unfinished, is of less interest ; the one to the left,

116 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

completed, is of the exquisite beauty which Uiis sculptor
often gave to nude youthful male figures. They repre-
sent the culminating point of the Italian Renaissance,
and should be compared with the equally lovely sculp-
tures of the Medici tombs in San Lorenzo at Florence.
Observe them well as typical examples of Michael
Angelo's gigantic power over marble."

At length, fortified by this glimpse of some of the
best examples of Italian Renaissance sculpture, which
gave such a strong impulse to the sixteenth century
sculptors of France, we are enabled to appreciate better
the magnificent works of Jean Goujon and Germain
Pilon in the salle (Room IV.) named after the first
of these great sculptors.

In the centre is Goujon's celebrated Diana, evidently
inspired by the Fontainebleau Nymph of Benvenuto
Cellini (with which it can most conveniently be com-
pared by visitors, as the latter also stands in this salle,
having been brought from Fontainebleau), and perhaps
also by the classical Diana of Versailles (see above).
This statue is said to have been commissioned by
Henry II. for his mistress, Diane de Poitiers, and has
been brought from her Ch&teau d'Anet. << Diana herself
strikes the keynote of all succeeding French sculpture.
Beautiful, coquettish, lithe of limb, and with the dis-
tinctive French elegance of pose, this figure nevertheless
contains in it the germs of rapid decadence. It sug-
gests the genesis of the eighteenth century, and of the
common ormolu clock of commerce."

Filon's masterpiece, the Three Graces supporting an
urn, also deservedly occupies a place of honour in the
middle of the salle. This was meant as a memorial of

THE LOUVRE AND THE LUXEMBOURG. 117

Henry IL, the urn haying been intended to contain this
sovereign's heart. This charming group well exemplifies
the delicacy and grace of the French Renaissance, and is
worth attentive study. The monument formerly stood
in the Church of the C^lestins, and the supporting
graces were piously described as Theological Virtues^ by
the monks of that establishment! Another beautiful
monument by this sculptor, which is apt to be over-
looked by the casual visitor, is Uie exquisite recumbent
statue from the tomb of Madame de Birague, wife of
the chancellor. So delicately worked is the sculptured
drapery that one can distinguish the thin and shrunken
form under the rich dress, and the wasted hand holds a
book whose pages it seems to have no strength to turn.
A sympathetic touch is added by the introduction of a
little dog, which vainly tries to awake its mistress from
a sleep that has no waking.

There now remains the collection of modem sculpture,
but this is of greatly inferior interest to the oUier collec-
tions, and only specialists or tourists with ample leisure
would care to give much time to it. Certainly, visitors
who can only spare two or three days for Uie Louvre will
be well advised to omit this gallery altogether from their
programmes. The best statuary will be found in the
Salle de Chaudet, where there are several Canovas (the
best being his Cupid and Psyche with a butterfly).

In this chapter I have attempted to describe only the
Fine Arts galleries, but a considerable portion of this
vast palace is taken up with the Egyptian, Assyrian,
Phoenician, Etruscan, Greek and Roman antiquities, a
vast collection of minor art objects, pottery, jewels, etc.,
which will be noticed later in the chapter on The

118. PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Museums of Paris. In short, if we can imagine the
British Museum, the South Kensington Museum, and
the National Gallery in one building, we can have some
faint idea of the enormous extent of the Louvre collec-
tions ; and yet there are those who with a light heart
attempt to ^' do " the Louvre in a single day !

For the picture and sculpture galleries alone innu-
merable guides and handbooks are published, but for
ordinary tourists who are not art students or specialists
Mr. Grant Allen's " Historical Guide to Paris," supple-
mented by the official catalogue or the latest edition
(1898) of Baedeker, will amply suffice. This admirable
guide contains an unusually full account of the Art
Galleries, — fuller indeed than many more ambitious
handbooks, and, while helpful and instructive, it is em-
phatically readable, the information being presented in
a lucid and suggestive manner. In this necessarily
brief sketch of the art collections I have made liberal
use of Uie artistic lore of Mr. Allen, whose recent death
will be much regretted by art lovers.

If it be not a counsel of perfection to map out the
disposal of a visitor's time, I would observe that hurried
visitors who can only give, say, a couple of days to the
picture and sculpture galleries would be well advised to
resist the temptation to see more than the Salon Carr^,
the Salle des Primitifs, Salle des Sept Chemin^es, and
the first two bays of the Grande Gktlerie, while, for the
sculpture, one afternoon might be devoted to the Clas-
sical Gallery and the French Renaissance rooms.

Like the Tuileries Palace, the Luxembourg was built
by a Medici queen. It was begun by Marie de M^dicis,

TBE LOUVRE AND THE LUXEMBOURG. 119

and the Florentine influence in the architecture is very
noticeable, the building having some resemblance to the
Pitti Palace. Remembering this, the visitor is not sur-
prised at finding a building which, if it lacks most ele-
ments of architectural beauty, is at all events stately,
dignified, and of magnificent proportions. Altogether
as a Senate House no more appropriate building could
be found. Considerable alterations were made io the
palace by Napoleon I. and Louis Philippe, but, fortu-
nately, the original style was in the main preserved.
Since the Empire the palace has been used as the seat
of the Second Chamber, — after the Restoration of the
monarchy as a House of Peers, and, since the Republic,
as the Senate. It is considered advisable to keep the
two chambers apart, and a proposal within recent years,
to house both the Lower and the Upper Chambers in a
restored palace of the Tuileries, met with little support

The interior of the palace Itself, apart from its mu-
seum, is, however, visited only by the most indefatigable
sightseers, and it is, besides, not always easy to gain
admittance. There is little to see in the tedious series
of bare but gorgeously decorated salons. An exception
might, however, be made in favour of the Ghambre de
Marie de M^dicis, where the walls are covered with
paintings of the school of Rubens.

The art galleries are situated in a separate building
(formerly the orangery), next the Petit Luxembourg.
In 1897 two new salons were added, one being reserved
for works of the ^^Impressionists," and the other for
pictures by foreign artists. These galleries are reserved
for the works of living painters and sculptors, and in
five to ten years from the death of tiie artist the

120 PABI8 Iir ITS BPLENDOUR.

pictures are usually transferred to the supplementary
salons of the Louvre, or, if space be wanting, to provin-
cial galleries. The collection is a small but very choice
one, the sculpture being particularly good. There are
at present some three hundred paintings, and not more
tiian two hundred and fifty works of sculpture, so that
the galleries demand much less time than the Louvre
galleries. Some idea of the scope of the gallery may
be realised if we remember that this collection is
equivalent to the combined collections of the Tate
Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, the Chantrey
Bequest, and the Royal Academy Diploma collections in
London. As the gallery is necessarily constantly re-
arranged and added to, the numbers mentioned below
are given with all reserve.

8. BcutiefirLepage. Hay-making. A good example of
the founder of the modem realistic school.

19. Bom Bonheur. Husbandry in Nivemais. An
excellent picture, though not one of the most popular
of this gifted artist, lately deceased.

81. Bauffuereau. Youth and Love. A distinctiy
pretty picture, and the very antithesis of tiie Millet
school. Bouguereau's pictures, however, — two others
are exhibited close by, St Cecilia and tiie Virgin as
Consoler, — are fascinating to many, in spite of tiie
tameness aad lack of virility which some critics com-
plain of.

86. Jfile$ Breton. Blessing the Harvest Had
Millet never existed, Breton would be unsurpassed
as a painter of village scenes, though his peasants lack
the convincing power of the great delineator of peasant
life. Two other pictures by Breton are hung close by.

THE LOUVBS AND THE LUXEMBOURG. 121

The Becall of the Gleaners, and The Gleaner, which
are instinct wiUi the peculiar charm of this artist.

46. Cabanel. Birth of Venus. As a draughtsman
Cabanel is facile princeps among the Academics of the
Bouguereau school, but his pictures are apt to be cold
and artificial in effect, and there is a lack of imagination
about his work which seems intensified when contrasted
with the sympathetic and vigorous style of the Lepage
and Lhermitte school.

48. Carolus Duran. Lady Holding a Glove. Here
the famous portrait painter shows his wonderful skill
in posing and idealising his subject without destroying
the likeness. ^^ Duran has not studied Velasquez and
other grand models of historic portraiture in vain.
This, of course, gives him high favour with persons of
fashion, who, whatever their defects, look to his art for
their earthly crown of grace.**

78. Delaunay. Plague at Rome. This is a power-
fully imaginative picture, showing the Angel of Deatii
warning the inhabitants of the doom of each household.
It created something of a sensation when first exhibited.

92. DetaUle. The W^ithdrawal of the Garrison of
Hiiningen in 1815. Detaille is one of the best modem
military painters, and carries on worthily the traditions
of Horace Vemet. (Compare this picture with De Neu-
ville's Le Bourget, 221.)

127. GMme. The Cock-fight. This is not one
of the best examples of this painter, though a very
popular picture.

184. Jules Lefebvre. La Verity. The most celebrated
of any of his works. It is thought to be an actual
portrait rather than a type.

122 PARIS IN ITS 8PLSND0UB.

200. Lhermitte. Reapers' Pay-day. One of the best
specimens of this master of the new naturalistic schooL
Shows keen sympathy and wonderful insight into peasant
life.

205. Mei%%omer. Napoleon m. at Solf^rino. One
of this famous artisfs most successful miniature paint-
ings, and well exemplifies his extraordinary command
of detail without loss of indiyiduality.

288. PuvU de Chavannes. The Fisherman. A
striking example of this ^^ mannered" and so-called
idealist painter. It is scarcely an attractive picture,
but is worth careful study.

Visitors should not overlook the few pictures of
foreign artists exhibited here. Among them the Ameri-
cans are well represented by J. S. Sargent, with his
clever La Carmencita; the rising artist, Alexander
Harrison (806, Solitude) ; J. M. Hamilton, who is rep-
resented by an excellent portrait of the Bt Hon. W. E.
Gladstone, and J. M. Whistier (824, Portrait of the
Artist's Mother) ; England by G. F. Watts's well-known
Love and Life (828). Some curiosity will be aroused
by the inclusion of several works by the gifted but
unfortunate Marie Bashkirtseff.

The sculpture, on the whole, is far better than the
pictures. Li fact, contemporary French sculpture is
generally admitted to be the best of all schools of
plastic art in our day. The other great rival school,
that of Italy, with its exa^eration of mere acces-
sories, its laboured verisimilitude in draperies and tex-
tures, and its general trickiness and prettiness, stands
on a different plane of art altogether. Modem Italian
sculptors are undoubtedly clever, and show a remarkable

THE LOUVRE AND THE LUXEMBOUBQ. 123

fttcility in execution, but, as a rule, they lack breadth
and soul.

The most representatiye and, generally speaking, the
best sculptures in this magnificent collection are briefly
described below, in alphabetical order of artists.

481. L. E. Barrias. Megara Girl. Perhaps his best
work, after his celebrated Oath of Spartacus.

448. Carrier-BeUetiM. The Sleeping Hebe. A charm-
ing example of pictorial sculpture.

449. Ohapu. Mercury Inrenting the Gaduceus. The
work by which this talented sculptor is best known. A
well-known American critic thus sums up Ghapu's lead-
ing characteristic : ^ Distinguished for reserve and repose,
and for the antique feeling in the subordination of
individual expression to ideal and typical beauty; his
Pluto would not look odd at the Vatican."

469. Belaplanehe. Eve Before the Fall. A charm-
ing and graceful figure, but somewhat too sensuous.

476. P. JDulaU. Florentine Singer. A bronze in
which the artist reverts to the Italian Renaissance style.
Two other works of this sculptor are placed near.

478. J. A. J. Falffui^e. The Winner of the Gock-
fight. An excellent example of the apostle of the new
naturalistic school in contemporary French sculpture.

487. OvUlaume. The Gracchi. Perhaps the best of
this sculptor's works, who is well known as the designer
of Music in Ihe Op^ra fa9ade.

294. Idrao. Salammbd. A magnificent nude figure.

499. Lansan. The Iron Age. A powerful and boldly
conceived work, but inferior to, or, at all events, less
popular than his famous Sphinx, which created such a
furore at the Salon of 1884.

124 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

510. MerciS. David. One of the most intereBting
statues in the Luxembourg. MerciS is the author of tiie
celebrated Gloria Victis, in tiie Square Montholon, and
of several other monumental sculptures in Paris.

512. A. MUet. Ariadne. Compare Millefs Cas-
sandra in the same gallery. N. B. — This statue has
recently been removed to the Louvre.

527. Saint Marceaux. Dante Beading Virgil. One
of the best works of this fine artist ^ An individual
cachet marks everything Saint Marceaux does ; he en-
dues his work with character, and in its manifestation
always displays the unexpected imaginativeness of true
genius."

Though the sculpture gallery at the Luxembourg
should be visited at least once, by all who take an inter-
est in contemporary French art, yet some of the best
French sculptures are to be seen in the streets and
places of Paris, and among the decorations of its public
buildings; and these have been duly described in the
chapter on ^< Monumental Paris."

CHAPTER Vn.

PUBUC PARKS AND OABDENa

The intramural parka of Paris cannot compare in
extent or in beauty with the magnificent recreation
grounds of London, whidi, indeed, are far superior to
those of any European capital. But London has not
been handicapped as Paris has been. It is impossible to
have town parks of any great size in a city enclosed by
fortifications. Paris, it must be remembered, is and
always has been a fortress ; ^^ ring after ring of military
walls has defended and limited it, nor was an old ring
ever demolished until it had been made needless by the
larger one outside of it"

If we trace the genesis and development of a Paris
park, we shall find tiiat the origin is often due to mere
chance. A king has had a fancy for a palace or garden
just outside the walls. As the city grows the old wall
is pulled down, and a new one built beyond the royal
garden or park, which consequently finds itself within
the city.

The Palais Boyal and its gardens, in the time of
Napoleon III. the great centre of tourists and sight-
seers, whose caf^s and shops were among the finest in
Paris, seem now almost wholly given up to the children
and bannei of the petite bourffeaitie and to idlers of the
artisan class. But though it is no longer a fashionable

195

126 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR,

rendezYOuSy the wealth of its historical associations
should render it not altogether unattractive to the tourist
who takes any interest in ttie Story of Paris.

The history of the palace can be traced back to the
time of Charles VI., when a hdtel stood on its site,
which was then just outside the city walls. In fact, the
portion of the palace now occupied by the Council of
State is believed by some historians to be built on Uie
site of the ramparts where Joan of Arc was severely
wounded from a crossbow, while sounding the depUi of
the moat with her lance. In 1620 Cardinal Richelieu
built a palace here, which was called the Palais Cardinal.^
Shortly before his death, the cardinal presented the
palace to Louis XIII., hence the name Palais Royal, and
Louis XIY. spent part of his childhood here. For some
time it served as a refuge for Henrietta Maria, widow of
Charles I. of England, and in 1692 Louis XIY. made it
over as an absolute gift to his nephew, the Duke of
Orleans, and the connection — during the Revolution, of
course, merely nominal — of this family with the Palais
Royal continued down to the present republic.

It is, however, with Philippe %alit£, the father of
King Louis Philippe, that the Palais Royal is chiefly
associated. To him is due the plan of the garden,
though the idea of this central pleasure-ground, sur-
rounded by the palace and its three galleries, is said to
have been first entertained by Cardinal Richelieu.

The Palais Royal garden and its arcades have often

> Hie prowB of vanels which, before the palace was fired by the
Commime In 1871, could be seen carved on one of the colonnades,
Indicated the cardinal^s connection with the building, as he held, at
one period of his career, the post of lord high admiral.

PUBLIC PARKS AND QABDENS. 127

been compared with the Piazza San Marco, Yenicei and,
according to G. A. Sala, it was designedly modelled on
this famous place.

^( The Palais Boyal, built in deliberate imitation of the
Piazza San Marco, and presenting a really noble, albeit
imperfect, copy, just as our CoTcnt Oarden piazzas
present a stunted and squalid caricature of an un-
approachable model, must always bear a pleasantly dim
resemblance to its peerless Venetian original. Unfor-
tunately, the incurable mania of the French for the over-
ornamentation of every monument of architecture which
they possess has led to the conversion of the immense
area between the arcades into a garden. It never was a
handsome garden ; and at present it is more than usually
ill-kept, exhibiting only a gravelly walk, with a few
patches of gray-green herbage, and scraggy shrubs here
and there. Were the whole expanse smoothly paved,
a Tltaliana^ in a mmple but elegant pattern, in white and
gray or white and pink marble, and were the ugly news-
paper kiosks, the toy and cake stalls, and the supple-
mentary booth fronting the Rotonde, all of which impede
the view to an exasperating extent, swept away, the
garden of the Palais Royal would assuredly be one of
the most magnificent spectacles in Europe."

The destruction of Uie palace and the Richelieu
Theatre (see Theatres chapter) had necessitated the ex-
penditure of a large snm in the rebuilding, and the
duke, being on the verge of bankruptcy, decided, on
the advice of Madame de Genlis's brother, to let out the
arcades to shopkeepers and re^aurateur^^ so as to form
a kind of bazaar, as a means of increasing his income.
Gambling-houses were also established here, and even

128 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR,

under the puritanical regime of Robespierre these public
hells flourished, and the Palais Royal became a recognised
place of dissipation. The Palais Royal caf^s were also
the headquarters of several of the Republican clubs, the
Jacobins', the Dantonists' (who used to meet at the Caf£
de Foy), and the Girondists' Club at the Gaf^ de
Chartres.

The garden, planted with rows of lime-trees and
decorated with some inferior statues, is one of the poorest
and least attractive of any of the public pleasure-grounds
of Paris. It possesses one unique curiosity in a solar
cannon fired every fine day at noon by the rays of the
sun penetrating a powerful burning-glass. This strange
device, coupled with the bare and deserted aspect of the
garden, gave rise to the following clever epigram in
rhyme, which has also a cynical allusion to the gambling
establishments :

« Dans ce jardin tout se renoontre

Excepts Tombrage et lea fleun.

Si Ton y d6r^gle ses moeun,

Du moins on y r^gle sa montre."

At the Restoration the Orleans family recovered their
palace, which had been confiscated by the Gonvention
after the execution of Philippe iSgalit^, and used it as
their town residence until 1880, when the son of that
Egalit^, at the end of the ^^ three terrible days of the July
Revolution," left the Palais Royal to ascend the throne
of France as Louis Philippe, the " Gitizen King." Only
eighteen years later the fickle mob drove their king
away, wrecked his palace and set fire to it It was dur-
ing this fire that the valuable private library of Louis
Philippe was destroyed. This unique collection included

PUBLIC PABKS AND OABDSN8. 129

apwards of six hundred thousand engravings, catalogued
and arranged by the king's own hand.

The palace was renamed Palais National, and put to
various uses during the early years of the Second Re-
public. When Napoleon III. became emperor, he assigned
the palace to his uncle, Jerome, ex-King of Westphalia,
who became afterward the governor of the Invalides.
This prince was installed there on the occasion of Queen
Victoria's visit in 1856. He cleverly evaded the task of
doing the honours to the queen of that country which,
in the opinion of the ultra-patriotic prince (who himself
held a command at Waterloo), was mainly responsible
for the fall of Napoleon I., by getting leave of absence
on the score of ill-health.

Prince Jerome was popular with the Parisians, who
familiarly dubbed him, says G. A. Sala, in his amusing
" Paris Herself Again,*' " < I'oncle Tom ; ' for Napoleon I.
being <le Grand Homme,' and Napoleon UI. <Ie Petit
Homme,' old Jerome must necessarily stand in the re-
lation of < Uncle Tom ' or < f homme,' to the latter. His
son. Napoleon Jerome, kept high state at the Palais
Royal, gave good dinners and bad cigars, and hatched
vain intrigues there against his cousin and benefactor,
until the empire tumbled to pieces like a pack of cards,
— cards marked by gamblers who had lost their cunning
and could no longer /aire $auter la ctmpe.^*

The palace did not escape the vindictive incendiarism
of the Commune, and the whole of the left arcade, with
part of the central pavilion, was burnt down. Fortu-
nately, the Gom^die Franfaise, although the building is
virtually an annex of the Palais Royal, escaped serious
injury.

130 PAB18 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

The decadence of the Palais Royal and its gardens,
and its abandonment hj la vie mandaine as a fashionable
promenade, or rendezvous, is unpleasantly brought home
to the stranger by the manifest deterioration of the caf^s
and shops. In the time of the Second Empire, the Palais
Royal jewellers' shops rivalled those in the Rue de la
Paix and Avenue de I'Op^ra, and the Caf^s Foy, Yalois,
Lemblin, and the Restaurants Very (where the Duke of
Wellington once entertained Blticher), Trois Frdres
Provenfaux, and other historic establishments, had the
highest reputation in Paris. Now the arcades are crowded
with bazaars and cheap jewelry shops filled with glitter-
ing rubbish, which, under the generic name of <' Palais
Royal Jewelry," has become as much a byword as
M Bnunmagem Jewelry '' with us.

Then one looks in vain for the caf^s and restaurants
once so celebrated. With the solitary exception of
y^four's, all are gone, and in their place is a swarm of
cheap but pretentious prix-Jixe restaurants, where half a
dozen courses for a franc and a half are offered as a bait
to the hungry and unwary tourist

The gardens, too, seem in keeping with their environ-
ment, and the frequenters lend an air of pinchbeck
gentility to the general flavour of decayed grandeur
which seems to pervade the Palais Royal.

Very pleasant is the contrast offered by the gay and
beautifully laid out gardens of the Tuileries, which, with
all classes of Parisians, still hold their own as the
favourite promenade and recreation ground. This
garden is, perhaps, the most widely popular of any
pleasure-ground in Paris. It is certainly far more
frequented than the Bois de Boulogne, often called the

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 131

Hyde Park of Paris, which, except with the rich and
leisure classes, is more of a set excursion and the goal
of a day's holiday than the easily accessible Tuileries.

We must not, however, expect here any triumph of
landscape gardening. The grounds, though well supplied
with shaded alleys and avenues, and bright with flower-
beds, cannot be compared in point of picturesqueness
with Kensington Gardens or St. James's Park, or even
with the Pare Monceaux or the Buttes Chaumont But
the stiff and formal design suits the surroundings admir-
ably, and, after all, the inherent limitations of such a
garden, situated in the centre of Paris, must not be
forgotten.

What has been done is to convert a vast level place
into a public garden without any attempt to conceal its
origin. But, though lacking rustic or picturesque fea-
tures, the Tuileries gardens have some esthetic value as
affording admirable monumental views and noble archi-
tectural vistas.

The French seem particularly alive, in the laying out
of their public parks and gardens, to the pleasing effects
of a good point of view and an architectural eoup-cTcM.
The fine views of the Madeleine, Yenddme Column, In-
valides. Institute, the Louvre, which are commanded
from various points, are very striking, and the view west-
ward do?ni the leafy avenues of the Champs ^Ivs^es,
bounded by the magnificent triumphal Arch of the Etolle,
is particularly fine.

Since 1887 the gardens have been enlarged and much
improved by the addition of the space between the Place
du Carrousel and the new Bue des Tuileries, which is
built on the site of the Tuileries Palace. The govern-

132 PAMS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

ment allowed tbe blackened and unsightlj ruins of the
Tuileries Palace to remain some ten years, till a de-
cision could be arrived at about the building that was to
replace it. Finally, as funds for the adequate restoration
could not be furnished, the ruins were pulled down, and a
road cut from the Quai des Tuileries to the Rue de
Bivoli.

Though the Tuileries gardens go back to the reign of
Louis XIY., having been designed by the famous land-
scape gardner, Le N6tre, in 1665, it is only since the Revo-
lution that they figure at all prominently in French history.
It will be remembered that it was at the Manage, which
formerly stood on the spot now oecupied by the Tennis
Court, that Louis XYI. was tried by the Convention.
Adjoining was the meeting-place of the revolutionary
club, the Feuillants, formed in opposition to the ultra-
revolutionary Jacobin Club of the Palais Royal. Among
the groves of chestnuts and limes are the curious semi-
circular marble platforms, which resemble a tier of a
Greek or Roman theatre, called the Carres d'Atalante,
a reminiscence of the classical aspirations of the National
Convention. They were intended as seats for the
<^ areopagus " of Elders who were to preside over Robes-
pierre's floral games in celebration of the Month Germinal
of 1798.

A curious tradition is connected with one of the chest-
nut-trees. It is kno?m as the ^^ Ch&taignier du 20
Mars," because it happened to blossom on the very day
(March 20, 1814) of Napoleon's return from Elba. It
is, indeed, popularly said that this particular chestnut
still blooms regularly on this anniversary, — another
manifestation of the great Napoleonic legend, which, even

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PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 133

in republican Paris of to-day, we are constantly meeting
in our rambles around the capital. Can we not see from
these gardens the Arc de Triomphe, with the shining
list of Napoleon's victories^ the Bible of the soldiers, the
YendSme Column, which has been graphically defined
as the permanent beatification of the mighty captain by
the God of Battles, and the gorgeous shrine itself of the
great emperor, with its golden dome,^ the Mecca of every
French soldier ?

But a romantic story, quoted by some French chron-
iclers, shows that this venerable chestnut-tree had long
possessed this curious property of bursting into blossom
regularly on the 20th of March, which rather discounts
the Napoleonic tradition. More than a hundred years
ago the painter Vien, when a pupil at the Beaux Arts,
was accused of having killed a rival competitor, but was
able to prove a picturesque alibi by showing that, at the
time when the crime was committed, he was seated
beneath this chestnut-tree which was then distinguished
by being alone in flower.

The Tuileries gardens should prove particularly
attractive to lovers of art as well as to lovers of nature,
as they contain, perhaps, the finest open air museum of
modem sculpture in Europe. The sculpture does not
consist, as in most public gardens of the Continent, of
merely plaster reproductions of classical masterpieces,
but the actual works in marble of the greatest French
sculptors. In fact, only a smokeless city like Paris could
dare to display such a collection in the open air.

^The dome was gilded in 1818, and it is said that the reason why
the colossal work was undertaken at that time was to divert the
thoughts of the ParislaQs from the disastrous Russian campaign.

134 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLXND0UB.

The best works are Heroic's Quand MSme (originally
intended for the to?ni of Belfort), a magnificently
modelled Lion and Ostrich in bronze by Camy The Oath
of Spartacus by Barrias, and Lion and Serpent by Barye.
There are also some good copies of ancient statues.
Among other famous sculptors who are represented
here by statues or groups are Rude, Coyzevox, Pradier,
David d' Angers, and Goustou, Rouz, and Carpeaux.

The Champs ^ys^es is rather a promenade than a
public garden, as is indicated by its full title, Avenue
des Champs ^lys^es. The portion between the Place
de la Concorde and the Bond-Point is, however, more
park-like in its dimensions, and is almost as popular
as a place of recreation with the Parisians as the
Tuileries gardens. This famous avenue does not date
back further than the end of the reign of Louis XY.,
but it soon became a fashionable promenade. After
the fall of Napoleon the Russian troops bivouacked
here, and after the hundred days it served as the
camp of the English troops. In 1871 Prussian soldiers
were quartered here during the temporary occupation of
Paris.

Between the Champs !^lys^es and the Seine consid-
erable alterations and improvements have been carried
out in view of the 1900 exhibition. The Palais de Tln-
dustrie, for many years the home of the Salon, has been
pulled down, and is replaced by a handsome structure,
the Grand Palais de Beaux Arts. The magnificent pedi-
ment sculptured by Henri Regnault, the artist who was
killed in the sortie of Buzenval during the siege of Paris,
is, however, preserved, and incorporated in the new
building.

PUBLIC PARKS AND 0ABDEN8. 135

A new boulevard has been made to connect the
GhampB ^ys^es with the new Alexander lU. Bridge.

The new Metropolitan Railway, which, at present
writing, is being actively pushed forward so as to be
completed by the opening day of the 1900 Exhibition,
is to have an underground station at the Tuileries.
The site is not yet definitely chosen, but it will prob-
ably be built under the Terrasse des Feuillants.

The Champs ^ys^es affords the most direct and most
interesting route to the Bois de Boulogne, just outside the
walls. This famous pleasure resort was before the Rev-
olution merely wild forest, a portion of the royal domain
of Rouvray. Its potentialities as a public recreation
ground were recognised by Napoleon I., who had drives
and avenues cut through it, but succeeding sovereigns
neglected it until Napoleon III. in 1852 made the Bois
over to the city of Paris, but was far-seeing enough to
make the gift conditional on the municipal property
being made of public benefit by insisting on a sum of
two million pounds being spent on improvements within
the next four years.

The municipality carried out the great work of con-
verting the forest and wilderness into a park with excel-
lent taste. Lakes were excavated, new roads constructed,
the surface varied with artificial mounds, new avenues
and alleys cut, ornamental trees and shrubs planted;
and the result is an excellent example of landscape
gardening on a colossal scale, and one of the most
delightful extra-mural pleasure-grounds possessed by
any Continental capital.

M. Achard, who has written an interesting mono-
graph on the Bois, calls it the promenade of Europe,

136 PABia IN ITS 8PLSND0US.

and declares that none of the parks of London, Vienna,
Madrid, or Florence can compare with this one.

Now that the trees planted in 1865 have matured, the
appearance of the Bois has immensely improved, and
has lost its somewhat artificial aspect, — in fact, some
of the wooded glades seem as rural and remote as those
in the deepest recesses of Epping Forest.

The Bois de Boulogne is often compared with Hyde
Park, but the comparison is not happy. In fact, this
park is like no single London park, but combines the
characteristics of Hyde Park, Richmond, Epping Forest,
Sando?ni, Hurlingham, and even Hampstead Heath. We
must remember that it contains several large race-courses,
— one as large as Sando?m Park, — a polo-ground equal
in area to that of Hurlingham, a Zoo nearly as extensive
as the Begenf s Park one ; and that Hyde Park, Begenf s
Park, and Battersea Park together would not completely
occupy the remaining portion of the Bois. This will
perhaps give a better notion of its size than a bald
enumeration of its acreage, — 2,160 acres, — which is
about the size of Richmond Park.

The best way of reaching the Bois is to leave the Arc
de I'^toile by the magnificent Avenue du Bois de Bou-
logne, which, now that the trees are so well grown, is as
beautiful a drive as the Avenue des Champs ^ys^es,
and enter by the Porte Dauphine. Here a pretty wooded
drive leads to the ornamental lakes, one, called the Lac
Inf^rieur, covering twenty-seven acres. At one end is
an artistically designed waterfall, popularly kno?m as
La Source. Close by is the Auteuil race-course for
steeplechases. It has been laid on ground which was
cleared of trees during the Bi^;e of Paris. This eastern

PUBLIC PABK8 AND QABDENS. 137

end of the Bois is the popular, as distinct from the fash-
ionable quarter, and, though the grounds are pictur-
esque, well-wooded, and well-watered, yet their artificial
character would not probably commend itself to critical
tastes, which would consider this sham rusticity a littie
too suggestive of a tea-garden on a large scale.

At the farthest end, bordering the Seine, are the
Longchamp race-course and polo-ground, and this is the
great resort of fashion, the famous promenade, the AU^e
de Longchamp from the Porte Maillot to Longchamp
being the Parisian equivalent to our Rotten Bow. At
the end of this All^e is the celebrated Cascade and the
equally celebrated Caf£ de la Cascade (with prices com-
mensurate with its fashionable vogue). The Cascade is
an immense piece of rockwork, over which flows a con-
siderable volume of water. A local guide-book gives a
graphic, if somewhat flowery, description of this water-
fall: «^An artificial mound, 180 feet in breadth and
forty-two feet high, raises its crag^ front above a basin
bordered with rocks ; a vast sheet of water, issuing from
a cavern pierced through the body of the mound, falls
into the basin from a height of twenty-seven feet, while
laterally two minor cascades are seen picturesquely
threading their way through various crevices. An
intricate rocky passage winds its way under the cas-
cade, leading the visitor through many mock perils,
charmingly imagined, to the top of the same waterfall,
where he may enjoy a view of the pretty lake by which
it is fed, and which also displays a picturesque island
in the centre."

Longchamp might be called the French Epsom, as
Chantilly is its Newmarket, but from the society point

138 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUB.

of new the races here might more justly be compared to
those of Ascot and Goodwood. Longchamp, indeed, is
a kind of calendar of &shion. The spring meeting inaa-
garates the Paris season, while the Grand Prix, like the
English Gtoodwood Cnp, marks its dose. The Grand
Prix, a stake amounting (with forfeits) on an average
to about jC10,000, takes place toward the middle of
June, on the second Sunday after the << French Derby **
at Chantilly, and usually about a fortnight after the
English Derby.

The Grand Prix is subscribed for by the Ville de Paris
and the great railway companies. The official title is
indeed Grand Prix de Paris, and a good deal hinges on
the omission of these last two words. Of late years the
Municipal Council of Paris has shown itself inclined to
withdraw its large annual subsidy. It is sud, however,
that the Jockey Club would not much regret the loss of
this << encouragement," as the race is in consequence
hampered with conditions, and this exceedingly exclu-
sive dub rather tolerates tiian welcomes the popular
element at the Longchamp Races. Should the munici-
pal subsidy be discontinued, the only difference would be
that the race would be called offidally (as it is now
popularly) Grand Prix, and the Longchamp meeting
would be virtually a private or subscription one.

But the government has a hand in racing in France, as
in most private enterprises, and there is a state subsidy
of six hundred thousand francs ostensibly to encourage
the breeding of horses. As to public betting, it is toler-
ated with certain restrictions by the government. The
open laying of odds by book-makers on the course is not,
it is true, permitted, but the betting by the Pan-Mutual

PUBLIC PABK8 AND OABDENa. 139

System is recognised. This is effected by means of a
mechanical contrivance known as the totalisator, by
which all the bets are pooled and the winning stakes
(less a heavy commission for «< working expenses")
allotted in accordance with an ingenious mathematical
calculation. This curious cooperative method of betting
is now firmly established at all French race-courses.

But the legislation as regards bets and wagers seems
in as chaotic and anomalous a state as in Great Britain,
and the decisions and arguments before the courts are as
fertile in paradoxes as in the famous test case in the
English Appeal Court, which turned on the various
technical, legal, and conventional interpretations of a
<< place." We may compare a well-known case in the
Gour de Cassation at Paris some few years ago, when
one of the judges with a turn for paradox gravely argued
that betting within the members' enclosure (enceinte),
where the persons laying their money were in a position
to judge of the merits of the horses by personal inspec-
tion, was not in the nature of a ^ game of chance." It
only took that character among the outside crowd, who
necessarily judged haphazard. This contention was,
however, a littie too subtie and far-fetched even for the
Cour de Cassation.

The Grand Prix is sometimes, but not very appropri-
ately, called the French Derby, a titie which witii more
justice would be applied to the Prix de Jockey Club at
Chantilly. At the same meeting the Poule d'Essai
might be considered the Gallic edition of the Two
Thousand Guineas, and the Prix de Diane of the Oaks.

The Longchamp Hippodrome (race-course) contains
three circular courses, varying from a mile to a mile and

140 PAEia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

three-quarters, and there is a straight ^run in'' five
furlongs in length.

<< There are four stands (or tribunes^ as they are called
in France), two on each side of the central pavilion for
the authorities. All these stands are entered from an
enclosure on the side facing the Seine, and together
contain about four thousand persons ; about four thousand
chairs are also distributed about the parterre within the
rails. The ground floors contain a weighing-room, a
saloon for ladies, another for the members of the Jockey
Cluby a third for refreshments, etc. The stands are
situated so as to avoid the glare of the sun, and to allow
of a straight run home of nearly a mile. The course
conmiands splendid views of the Bois de Boulogne,
M. de Rothschild's villa, the hills of St Cloud, Meudon,
and Belle Yue, Mont Yal^rien, the Seine, etc." ^

In the very centre of the Bois de Boulogne is the
Pr6 Oatelan (formerly a model farm) with a little
restaurant attached. It is now annexed to the Jardin
d'Acdimatation.

The beautiful little Ghftteau Bagatelle (now closed to
the public), near the training ground, was formerly the
residence of the philanthropist and well-kno?m art col-
lector, Sir Richard Wallace, a great benefactor to the
city of Paris, especially during the siege, who has been
commemorated by the municipality by a boulevard named
after him. There is a curious story attached to this
chftteau. It was said to have been built in sixty days
by the Comte d'Artois (afterward Charles X.), the result
of a wager with Marie Antoinette (not the Prince of
Wales, as the author of a popular guide to Paris has
1 Oalig^nani^t ** Paria Guide.**

PUBLIC PABKS AND GABDSN8. 141

gravely asserted). The Bagatelle, in consequence of this
freak, was formerly known as the Folic d'Artois. It
was here that the Duke of Bordeaux, the ** child of mir-
acle," passed his childhood.

On the way from Longchamp to the Jardin d' Acclima-
tation we pass the charmingly situated Gaf^ de Madrid.
This is built on the site of a chftteau or hunting-lodge
erected by Francis I. on the pattern of the one where he
was imprisoned by Charles Y. after his defeat at Pavia,
that battle where historical students will remember << all
was lost save honour." This chivalrous aphorism must^
however, be included among the other hypothetical his-
torical sayings, such as the quixotic appeal at Waterloo,
<< Gentlemen of the Guard, fire first," ^ which modem
historians have conclusively shown had no foundation in
fact, but were probably either inspired, or due to a praise-
worthy ambition on the part of contemporary chroni-
clers to write picturesquely.

This chftteau, says Mr. Sutherland Edwards, was
turned into questionable use by later kings of France,
and apparently served as the prototype of the notorious
Pare aux Gerfs. Henri III. varied the diversions of
which it was so often the scene by introducing combats
between wild beasts and bulls. One night, however,
this depraved monarch dreamt that his animals at-
tempted to devour him, so he had them killed and
replaced by packs of little dogs!

The Bois contains one mediaeval relic which should
interest archaeologists. It is known as the Croix

^An historian of a cynical temperament has declared that this
historical speech was probably a cunning device to draw the enemy's
firel

142 PABIB IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Catelan, and stands near the point where the AUtes de
Longchamp and La Beine Mai^erite intersect. It is
a small pyramid erected by Philippe lY. (le Bel) to
mark the spot where a celebrated troubadour of his
camp called Amauld de Catelan was murdered. The
upper portion of the monument has been destroyed,
but the coat of arms of Provence can still be distin-
guished on the pedestal. This ^venerable but muti-
lated relic has outlived all the political disturbances and
revolutions of France since the fourteenth century."

But if one really wishes to enjoy this beautiful park
quite apart from its usual attractions and sights, it
should be visited in the morning or early in the
evening. It will then be seen at its best, for it is
almost deserted at those hours. It is curious how
strong a hold custom has upon the ordinary Parisian,
whether bourgeois or patrician. He would never dream
of entering the Bois before his midday d^'eHner, and
he usually leaves it at about six o'clock to dine.

^ In the morning it is most beautiful, and most de-
serted," writes Mr. Sieverts-Drewett " In the evening,
when in spring the air is filled with the song of hundreds
of nightingales, there is rarely a solitary ear to listen.
The glades are as devoid of human life as those in the
Forest of Dean or Sherwood. Only the gas-lamps denote
that civilisation is not far off, and the excellent hand-
posts guide the pedestrian to any point he may desire.
A row on the lake in the evening is most enjoyable, and
coloured lanterns are provided if asked for, adding pic-
turesqueness to the effect, particularly for the benefit of
those on shore."

The Jardin d'Acclimatation is not like the Jardin des

PUBLIC PARKS AND GARDENS. 143

Plantes (see below), a government institation, but a
private enterpriae. The collection of animals here alao
is not what is usually understood by Zoological Gardens,
as it is mainly confined to those of the graminivorous
order and to those suitable for domestic or ornamental
purposes. The garden covers an area of fifty acres, and
was granted to the Soci^t^ d'Acclimatation by the Paris
municipality. Though railed off, it is an integral part
of the Bois, just as the London Zoo is of Regent's Park.
Though it has no official connection with the State Zoo-
logical Gardens, yet naturalists might reckon it as a
kind of annex, as it has a better collection of certain
classes of animals, such as antelopes, zebras, sheep,
cattle, and other non-carnivorous species.

The most interesting features are the vivarium,
where certain of the rarer or more delicate species of
small animals are kept, such as hamadryad monkeys,
the ponds, where are the various kinds of waders, storks,
herons, flamingos, cranes, etc., and the SeurieSj con-
taining a good collection of yaks, buffaloes, and other
quasi-domestic animals, which might possibly be accli-
matised, and the large houses where the zebras, quaggas,
and the giraffe are confined.

The grounds are very picturesquely laid out and inter-
sected by a stream, studded with islands, in which are
fish from the various piscicultural establishments of
France. A recent addition is the palm-house, three
hundred feet long; which is much frequented in winter.
There are some very fine specimens of palms, tree-ferns,
and other sub-tropical trees and shrubs.

The high tower in the centre of the grounds is used
for breeding carrier-pigeons for military purposes.

144 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUS.

The lack of a sufficient supply of this class of pigeon
was much felt during the siege of Paris.

The aquarium is worth visiting. The principal curi-
osity is a rare kind of pieuvre^ or cuttlefish, popularly
known as the vinegar-polypus, because it secretes an
acid very similar to vinegar.

The Jardin should be visited on Sunday, not on
account of the animals, for the crowd is too great' for
comfortable inspection, but to see the people and the
thousands of children, the garden being one of the most
popular holiday resorts of Parisians.

The Jardin des Plantes is not, like the London Zoo-
logical Gktrdens, a private enterprise, but is to be re-
garded merely as a show place. The Paris establish-
ment is an important national scientific establishment,
a kind of government museum, and university of zool-
ogy and national history, liberally endowed by the state
and provided with a staff of professors and lecturers.
Consequently we are not surprised to find the Jardin
des Plantes in the University Quarter (^Quartier Latin).

The Jardin can claim a continuous history of over
two hundred years. It was founded by Louis Xm. as
a royal botanical garden, — Boyal Garden of Medicinal
Herbs was its official title. In its early years the gar-
den, owing to the determined hostility of the Faculty of
Medicine, rather languished. With the appointment
of Comte de Buffon as director (intendant) the aspect
of everything changed, and the institution under his able
and devoted attention soon earned a world-wide renown.
It was under Buffon that the scope of the garden was
enlarged so as to include collections of living ani-
mals — the nucleus of the modem Zoo — and minerals.

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GABDEN8. 145

At the beginning of this great naturalists b administration
the museum occupied three small rooms. Buffon added
the great amphitheatre, galleries of natural history, and
chemical laboratories. In short, from a small private
collection of plants belon^ng to the king, Bu£Pon con-
verted it into a great National Institution and Museum
of Natural History.

Buffon was succeeded, in 1792, by Bemardin de St
Pierre, more famous, however, as the autiior of the
romance of Paul and Virginia. Under his direction
the nucleus of the present menagerie was formed, as the
royal collection of wild animals at Versailles was trans-
ferred here, just as the English royal collection of wild
beasts at the Tower of London was the germ of the
present magnificent zoological collection in the Begenfs
Park.

The Convention not only carefully preserved the col-
lection in the Jardin des Plantes, but endowed twelve
professorial chairs in the various departments of the
natural sciences. The number of these chairs was
increased under the Second Empire, but << fundament-
ally, the organisation of the establishment remains what
it was at the time of the radical transformation under
the Convention. The professors went to work with the
greatest enthusiasm, and all the invaders and explorers
of the time were begged to supply the museum with
whatever specimens of natural history they could offer.
The collection, moreover, was increased by the activity
and success of the French troops, with a view to the
greater glory of France, and especially of Paris. The
commanders of the French armies brought back with
them the most interesting objects from the museums of

146 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

the conquered cities. Holland having been overrun in
1798, a number of the curiosities in the Stadtholder's
museum were forwarded to Paris; and the celebrated
naturalist, Geoffrey Saint-Hilaire, was sent to Lisbon,
occupied at the time by a French army, to choose from
the local collection whatever he might find suitable for
the natural history museum at Paris." ^

After the fall of Napoleon I. the Stadtholder's col-
lection was claimed, but by agreement duplicates from
the museum were accepted instead. At the same time
a valuable collection of precious stones from the Vatican
Gallery was restored to the Pope.

The botanical gardens and museum were much aug-
mented in 1805 with donations of plants by Humboldt.

The celebrated naturalist, Cuvier, was director under
Charles X., and under him the scientific reputation of
the museum was well maintained.

Many stories are told, or perhaps invented, of this
celebrated naturalist, of his kindly if somewhat irri-
table, nature and his lifelong, disinterested devotion
to science. A clever jeu, cPesprit invented about him
illustrates rather amusingly the popular conception of
Guvier's whole-souled devotion to scientific pursuits.
The devil was said on one occasion to have appeared
in the form traditionally attributed to his Satanic Maj-
esty, and informed the naturalist that he was come to
devour him. Cuvier carefully scrutinised his diabol-
ical visitor, and calmly replied, <^ Hoofs, horns,
graminivorous, — impossible," and resumed his studies.

Other great naturalists who have held professorships
at the Jardin des Plantes during the present century
iM Old and New Paris.**

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GABDEN8. 147

are Lamarck, Lac^pdde, and the centenarian Eugdne
Chevreul.

Between Gnvier's death in 1882 and the fall of the
Second Empire, there were not many notable additions
to the various oollectionB, and of course the siege of
Paris most effectively thinned the inmates of the men-
agerie, as they were nearly all eaten by the hungry
citizens, and it is said were not altogether unpalatable.
The elephants were greatly in request by gourmeU^ and
at the principal restaurants elephant cutlets figured
prominently on the menu at from forty to fifty francs.

However within recent years l^e menagerie has been
considerably enlarged, thanks to the colonial expansion
of France, and many rare animals from Madagascar,
Tonkin, and Senegal have been added. The most valu-
able were the tigers from Tonkin, placed here as recently
as 1895.

The Jardin des Plantes, which is on the southern
bank of the river, almost facing the Bastile, is best
reached by the Pont d'Austerlitz. On the occupation of
Paris by the allied armies after the battle of Waterloo,
the name of this bridge was changed to Pont du Boi,
but it resumed its original title in 1880. It will be
remembered that the other bridge named in honour of
a famous Bonapartist victory, the Pont de Jena, was
threatened with destruction in 1815, and the Prussians
had actually made preparations to blow it up, when at
the urgent remonstrance of the Duke of Wellington
to Marshal Bliicher the project was abandoned.^

The French love of centralisation is exemplified in

I Tet in several French histories of the war, this yindictive pro-
posal has been attributed to the duke himself 1

148 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

scientific as well as in political and administrative insti-
tutions, and the student in Paris finds collected in one
establishment what, in the case of his London confrere,
would necessitate visits not only to the Zoo, and the Bo-
tanical Gardens in Regent's Park, but also to Eew Gar-
dens, the Natural History Museum at South Kensington,
the Anthropological Collection at the Crystal Palace,
and the Geological Museum in Jermyn Street.

But of course the chief attraction in the Jardin des
Plantes, to nine out of ten sightseers, is the menagerie
on the northern side of the garden, for just here the
river runs north and south. The carnivorous animals
(^animaux fSrocet) have a large house, divided, of course,
into cages, all to themselves, as in the Regent's Park.
Next is the << palace" of the monkeys. The big
rotunda is reserved for large animals from the tropics,
— elephants, a rhinoceros, and a hippopotamus. The
rhinoceros is a female. She has several times produced
a young one, but has generally killed her offspring
immediately with her terrible teeth. The bear-pit oppo-
site this building is one of the most popular resorts
in the menagerie. Martin seems to be a generic name
for the bears of this Zoo, all in turn being named after
a celebrated bear from Berne, which was a great fa-
vourite with Parisians.

The reptiles have a large pavilion to themselves. In
the principal compartment are the aristocrats of the
reptile world, the pythons, cobras, asps, and rattlesnakes.
These snakes are particularly well cared for; their
cages are carpeted with dry moss, there are hollow
trunks of trees for them to retire to, little tanks
of water for l^eir refreshment, etc. The great

PUBLIC PARKS AND 0ABDXN8^ 149

python here earned a fleeting fame a few years ago by
swallowing the blanket with which he was covered at
night, a more innocent freak than that of the pjrthon of
the London Zoo, who devoured his mate, but died in
consequence of inability to digest him. The fate of the
Paris python was less tragic. After a fortnight's severe
indigestion the reptile recovered. The blanket was
recovered, and the keepers are proud to show visitors
this unpleasant alimentary trophy.

These are the houses which will probably be most
attractive to ordinary visitors, but the collection of
animaux paisibles should not be neglected. The most
interesting are the Thibetan yaks, — a specimen of
bufiFalo which is easily acclimatised.

The botanical garden occupies the greatest portion
of the grounds, but to the non-scientific visitor, it is
not attractive, especially as the palm-house and hot-
houses are very poor, after those of Eew, and there is
no one single popular feature, such as the Victoria
Regia, which appeals to the ignorant. It may be men-
tioned that the colours of the labels on the plants are
an indication of their nature; for instance, the red
tickets denote medicinal, the green alimentary plants;
the blue those used in the arts, the yellow ornamental,
and the black poisonous plants.

At the end of the garden are two artificial hillocks.
On one, known as the Labyrinthe, is a handsome cedar
of Lebanon, which is of some historical interest, being
the first cedar actually planted in France. It was
brought from the East by Bernard de Jussieu in 1884,
and the story of its acquisition is romantic. De Jussieu
was bringing this seedling from the East with other

150 PARIS IN ITS SPLXNDOUB.

valuable specimens, when he was captared by the Eng-
lish, who seized the whole of his collection, with the
exception of the cedar. This he had sworn to preserve
at all risks, and managed to conceal it, planted in its
own mould, in a hat. Fortunately he succeeded, after
many adventures, in bringing it safely to Paris. It is
now a magnificent tree, its trunk being ten feet in cir-
cumference, six feet from the ground.

There is a picturesque old sun-dial on one of the
pillars of the belvedere which crowns the hill, with a
fantastic but appropriate motto : Saras non numero nisi
Serenas. This epicurean sentiment is a welcome change
from the perpetual Pereunt et imptUantur met wil^ in
English sun-dials. There was in Buffon's time a curi-
ous apparatus here for indicating the hour of noon, on a
similar principle to the ^* solar cannon " of the Palais
Royal Gktrdens. A powerful burning-glass was so
arranged that at noon the rays of the sun falling on
the glass burned a thread, which released a metal ball.
This curious invention has now disappeared.

The magnificent museum of zoology is one of the
best in Europe, though the arrangement of the new
South Kensington Museum is both more intelligible and
more scientific, and no visitor should omit an inspec-
tion of this wonderfully rich collection, comprising
admirably stuffed specimens of the principal known
animals, fishes, and reptiles in the world. If the casual
sightseer is daunted by the word museum^ he may be
consoled by knowing that the official title is gcUerie.
The collection, indeed, appeals not only to the scientist
or student of natural history, but to all lovers of

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GABDEN8. 151

The ground floor is devoted to canuvorous animalfl, a
very complete collection of the various genera of Quad-
rumana (ape tribe), from the smallest monkey to the
great anthropomorphous ape (gorillas, orang-outangs,
etc.). In l^e central hall are the great mammals (ele-
phants, camels, hippotami, etc.). On the second floor
is a large arched gallery filled with the finest collections
of birds in Europe, comprising over ten thousand speci-
mens. The number is bewildering, but the more beau-
tiful birds, that is, those distinguished by beauty of
plumage, — humming-birds, birds of paradise, lyre-birds,
bower-birds, and other tropical specimens, — are exhibited
all together in the centre.

There are also separate collections of fish, reptiles,
insects, shells, birds' nests, and a particularly fine col-
lection of butterflies in this vast museum of natural
history.

The museums of geology and mineralogy — according
to experts one of the best on the Continent — and of
botany, though highly attractive to specialists, are not
likely to interest ordinary visitors. It might be sup-
posed that the same observation would apply with equal
force to the museums of comparative anatomy and
anthropology. However, there are many curiosities here,
such as the casts of celebrated criminals' heads, skele-
tons of the assassin of General Either, and of famous
dwarfs and giants, death-masks of celebrated French-
men, etc., which the non-scientific visitor will probably
wish to inspect. Fastidious persons would no doubt
consider that these objects seem a little out of place in
a natural scientific institute, and certainly they would
seem to be more appropriately housed in the Mustfe

152 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Gr^vin or at Madame Tassand's. However, the love of
horrors is not confined to the French nation, and the
fact remains that this gmesome collection is the most
popular feature in the whole museum, with nine visitors
out of ten, provided they know of its existence.

Taking the Gallery of Comparative Anatomy first, the
most conspicuous objects in the lower gallery are two
skeletons of whales. One of these is a spermaceti or
"cachalot"^ whale.

The ghastly relics of humanity already referred to
are collected, fortunately for the oversensitive visitor,
who can thus easily avoid them, in a separate room.
Here are the skeletons of the famous dwarf B^b^ and
Soliman-el-Halir, the assassin of General Richer. Even
the most callous can hardly regard the remains of this
wretched fanatic with absolute indifference, who, though
a murderer, regarded himself, and was regarded by his
countrymen, as a patriot. <^ He was put to death with
frightful torture by the avenging French, who barbar-
ously adopted the mode of punishment of the barbarous
country they had invaded. Strange that the French,
nearly a century after this offence against humanity,
should still preserve a monument to revive its memory.
To notice but one point, the finger bones of the right
hand are wanting. One hand was burnt off before the
final punishment was applied, — that of impalement,
which the assassin endured for six hours without utter-
ing a groan." '

1 An ingenioua, if unscientific, French etymologist derives the name
from eachi d Teau, because the animal is accustomed when threat-
ened with attack to hide under the water.

••'Old and New Paris."

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 153

Additional ^^ scientific horrors '^ are to be seen in the
anthropological department, viz., a collection of dried
heads of Arabs, Kabjles, and other North African races,
which have been severed during life, and mummified heads
of an extinct Peruvian race, which were preserved thou-
sands of years ago by the peculiar method practised
at that period. After the bones had been removed the
head was dried, and though it contracted considerably
during the process, — some of the heads are littie larger
than the fist, — the proportions of the original shape
were retained.

Less repulsive is a large collection of skulls, in which
the conformation from the lower animals to man is
clearly traced, forming a valuable object-lesson for
Darwinian students.

Attached to this museum is a phrenological collec-
tion formed by Doctor Gall, consisting of casts of heads
of illustrious Frenchmen, including Francois Arago, Vol-
taire, Jean Jacques Rousseau, and Doctor GaU himself,
also a collection of casts of heads of notorious criminalB
of all ages.

Several rooms are devoted to the ethnological collec-
tion, with skulls and casts of the heads of the different
races of mankind, which was gradually formed during
the various French scientific expeditions subsidised by
the French government ^< As a whole, this part of the
museum is unique, as illustrative of the races of man,
from every country, and in all their varieties.**

The Anatomical and Anthropological Museum having
outgrown the buflding allotted for it near the amphi-
theatre, a magnificent new museum haa recently been
boilt near the principal entrance. The collections were

154 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLJSND0UB.

transferred from the old to the new museum in 1898.
It is intended to continue the building the whole length
of the gardens to join the Botanical and Mineralogical
Museum. When this magnificent scheme is carried out,
the Jardin des Plantes will contain the largest natural
history museum in the world. The new building was de-
signed by Dutert, and the main fa9ade is decorated with
appropriate sculpture by the first modern sculptors of
France. The finest works are the two colossal bronze
reliefs. Horse Subdued by Man, by Marqueste, and Negro
Spearing a Crocodile, by Barrias. In front are two large
groups of statuary, the First Artist and the Stone Age.
One can compare the latter with Lanson's famous Iron
Age, in the Luxembourg, and with Bodin's Age of Bronze.
The Luxembourg Garden, which should be visited in
the afternoon when the band plays, is easily reached from
the Jardin des Plantes. The garden has been much re-
duced of late years, owing to the encroachments made by
the building of various government institutions. School
of Mines, Colonial College, School of Chemistry, etc., and
since 1867 it has been reduced in area by one-l^ird. It
is now scarcely larger tiian the TuUeries Garden. There
has been no attempt at what is usually called landscape
gardening in the planning of this pleasure-ground. The
arrangement is stiff and formal, but it must be admitted
that it harmonises well with the style of the Luxembourg
Palace. There are scarcely any lawns, though there are
plenty of open spaces, and this scarcity of turf is, accord-
ing to modem notions, its great defect. The garden is
rectangular in shape. In the centre is a large basin (a
favourite resort of children for their toy sailing boats),
skirted by flower beds, and interspersed with copies of

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDBN8. 155

antique stataes, and flanked right and left by balnstraded
terraces shaded with chestnut groves. The prettiest por-
tion of the garden is near the Avenue de I'Observatoire,
which is much less frequented. As a garden it must
yield in beauty to tiie Tuileries (though the style is
similar), the Champs fUjoieBj or the Pare Monceauz, but
it is interesting as affording the only example of an
Italian Renaissance garden in Paris. Then the garden
is worth visiting for its sculpture alone. It is the finest
outdoor museum of statuary in Paris. Public gardens
in other great cities have usually to be satisfied with
plaster copies of antique statuary, but at the Luxem-
bourg, not only are there copies from the antique in
marble, but we can see the original work of the best
French sculptors of the century.

Behind the museum is a fountain, with a very fine
symbolical group, to the memory of Eugene Delacroix.
The idea the sculptor wishes to embody is Time bring-
ing Fame to Delacroix, with the Genius of Art approv-
ing. In the case of such a subject as Delacroix, the
symbolism is not overexaggerated, as is so usually the
case with emblematical sculpture, for Delacroix is cer-
tainly one of the greatest French artists of the century.
He is also, perhaps, the only great French painter who
was a great man of letters as well. A well-known critic
has suggestively observed, << If Shakespeare and the
author of the < Inferno ' were painters, they would have
painted like Delacroix." In this side of the garden
Gain's fine animal study^ Lion and Ostrich, should also
be looked for. Near the Medici fountain is a good mar-
ble group by Garraud, representing Adam and his family
after the murder of Abel. These are perhaps the best

156 PARIS IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

examples of French sculpture, tiliough a whole morning
might be pleasantly spent in inspecting the numerous
statues and monuments with which the garden abounds.
The sculpture on the terraces is of more historical
and personal than artistic importance. It consists of a
series of twenty marble statues of famous French women
of all ages, — an idea of Louis Philippe. The choice
of subjects for this monumental Valhalla seems some-
what arbitrary. Among them are Ste. Oeneyidve, Ste.
Glotilde, Bertha, the wife of King Pepin, Gl^mence
Isaure (by Pr^ault), Marie Stuart (Queen of Scots),
wife of Francis IL, and Mile, de Montpensier.

CHAPTER Vm.

PUBLIC PARES AND OABDENS.
(Concluded.)

Tourists rarely visit the Cemetery of Mont Pamasae,
which is within a few minutes' drive of the Luxembourg,
but a pilgrimage to this God's Acre will prove inter-
esting, and it might be taken on the way to the pretty
little Park of Montsouris, the newest and the smallest of
the public parks of Paris. The origin of the poetical name
of this region is due to the fact that the land — of
course at that lime outside the walls — was granted to
the University of Paris, whose scholars used to assemble
on the slopes of this ^^ mountain, " declaiming poems and
reading and discussing literary essays, and, in short,
they were accustomed to conduct what is now the fashion
to call a symposium. The associations of the quarter
are now, however, sepulchral rather than academic.

Many notabilities in the world of art lie buried in this
little cemetery. ^ Here, too, lie Henri Begnault, the
young painter who was killed in the sortie toward
Buzenval on the 19th January, 1871 ; the surgeon
Lisfranc, self-declared rival of the illustrious Dupuytren,
whom, in his lectures, he used freely to describe as < this
brigand from over the water ' (Lisfranc was attached
to the Charity on the left bank, Dupuytren to the H6tel
Dieu on the Island); Father Loriquet, author of the

107

158 PARIS IN ITS 8PLEND0US.

celebrated < History of France' in which Napoleon
Bonaparte is represented as one of the generals of Louis
XVIII., in whose name he gains important victories ;
Sainte-Beuve, the famous critic; Baron O^rard, the
painter; Rude, the sculptor; Orfila, the great chemist,
who discovered arsenic in the body of M. Lafarge, —
whereupon Raspail, the chemist retained for the defence,
declared that he would find as much arsenic in a pair of
old window curtains; the Four Sergeants of Bochelle,
whose unhappy fate has been told in connection with
BicStre, where for a time they were confined ; the phil-
osopher Jouffroy, and the famous writer on political and
religious subjects, Montalembert"^

Father Loriquet was one of the most remarkable his-
torians, or rather chroniclers, of modem times. Appar-
ently holding the cardinal doctrine, popularly ascribed
to the Jesuits, that the end justifies the means, he
made a serious attempt to re-write French History from
the standpoint of an uncompromising royalist. In
this preposterous history (which was published soon after
the Restoration) this doughty champion of the divine
right of kings has deliberately re-arranged historic
facts so as to make them accord with what^ in his
opinion, should have happened. It is said that the book
is still used as a text-book in some ultra-montane
French seminaries.

Speaking of the American War of Independence, this
strange historian writes : << Louis XV I. did not think it
just or politic to take the part of rebels, who claimed
rights for subjects against kings. But sacrificing inop-
portunely his own intelligence to that which he thought
lu Old and New Paris.**

PUBLIC PARKB AND GARDENS. 159

he recognised among his councillors, he acknowledged
the independence of the United States of America."

The famous episode of the Oath of the Tennis Court is
thus dealt with by this extraordinarily biassed chronicler :

^^ Louis XVI. committed the fault of tolerating an
illegal meeting of factious persons in the tennis court
He should have known that a few drops shed in time
are the salyation of empires.

<^ In the midst of convulsive movements the Assembly,
after a splendid repast, held a midnight meeting, so well
known under the name of the Sitting of the 4th of
August There, without discussion, without delibera-
tion, inspired solely by the vapours of wine, it decreed a
number of unjust things against landed proprietors and
the owners of feudal rights.''

The attack on Versailles by the Paris mob on October
5, 1789, is calmly put down to a plot of the Duke of
Orleans.

<< It was the evening of the 6th of October, the most
alarming news was being circulated in Versailles. The
days of the royal family, above all those of the queen,
were seriously menaced. The aim of the conspirators
was, by intimidating Louis XVI., to compel him to fly
and quit the throne, which the Duke of Orleans proposed
to seize. But the king having declared that he would
not take flight, the duke and his accomplices resolved
to get rid of him by assassination. It was in a church
dedicated to St Louis that the horrible plot was pre-
pared. At daybreak the signal was given. Thirty thou-
sand assassins, intoxicated with wine and debauchery,
threw themselves into the palace, calling, <Long live
our Orleans king ! ' "

160 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Napoleon I. fared even 'worse at the hands of this
grotesque historian than Philippe !^galit6, who also
seems anxious to add a picturesque personal touch to
his account of the great usurper's career; for we read
that when Napoleon was informed by his generals at
Fontainebleau that France had now a king instead of
an emperor, ^* he shed many tears, and only seemed to
be consoled when the allies ceded to him the little island
of Elba, with an income of six million francs."

A higher flight is attempted in the account of Napo-
leon's disastrous Russian campaign, when the retreat
from Moscow is compared to the destruction of Pha-
raoh's hosts in crossing the Bed Sea!

Henri Martin, an historian of a very different type,
is also buried in Mont Pamasse; and among literary
men of note who have found a last resting-place here are
Pierre Larousse, the author of the ^'Dictionnaire Uni-
versel," the great French counterpart of the " Encyclo-
pedia Britannica;" the unfortunate poet, Hdgdsippe
Moreau, the author of ^Myosotis," whose checkered
and miserable life recalls that of Ghatterton, and who
literally died in Paris of starvation in 1880 ; and the
eminent critic, Sainte-Beuve.

Sainte-Beuve, who died in 1869, is, perhaps, better
known by his memoirs than his literary criticism. Yet
these memoirs, which are not altogeliier creditable to
their alleged author, have been unjustly fathered on
Sainte-Beuve. Actually, he left no regular memoirs,
and those published under his name were written by
unscrupulous persons, so declares Mr. Saintsbury, the
great authority on modern French literature, who had
had some literary relations with him.

PUBLIC PARKS AND 0ABDEN8. 161

Sainte-Beuve left strict instructions by will for a
^ civil funeral," and requested that none of the learned
societies to which he belonged should be represented.
" Finally," he added, " I wish to be carried straight
from my home to the cemetery of Mont Pamasse, and
to be placed in the vault where my mother lies, without
passing through the church, which I could not do
without violating my sentiments."

While in this neighbourhood the excursion might be
extended to the Pare de Montsouris, the newest and the
smallest of the Paris parks. Except as regards area
(for it is scarcely the sixth of its size), Montsouris
might be compared with regard to its situation and the
class of its frequenters with Victoria Park in London,
just as the Buttes Chaumont is the nearest Paris coun-
terpart of Battersea Park. The grounds are prettily
laid out, and, like the Pare Monceaux and the Buttes
Chaumont, afford an excellent example of landscape
gardening on a small scale. The chief decorative fea-
ture is a Moorish pavilion, copied from the palace of the
Bey of Tunis, which was brought here from the 1867
Exhibition. It is not only ornamental and picturesque,
but of practical utility, as it has been converted into the
Paris Meteorological Observatory. In its BuUetin MStio-
roloffique the Meteorological Department publishes daily
the readings of the various meteorolo^cal stations on
the French coast, from Gape Gris-Nez to Toulon, and
also the daily records despatched by the London meteoro-
logical office.

The Bois de Vincennes is a large and beautiful extra-
mural park (almost as extensive as the Bois de Bou-
logne), situated on the extreme east of Paris, It is far

162 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

more rural in character than the fashionable west end
park, and artists and lovers of nature would probably
prefer it, except on Sundays and holidays, when it is
thronged. It is usually reached via the Place de la Bas-
tille and Place de la Nation, but from the Pare Mont- ^ |
souris the direct route is by the Boulevard Mass^na and '
the Pont National. '

If the tourist starts from the BastQe, he should not
neglect to visit the small cemetery of Picpus, which
ought to have especial interest for American travellers as
the burial-place of General Lafayette. It is not very
easy to find, — being a private cemetery, it is not marked
in some maps, — as it occupies little space, and is now
used as a cemetery only by a few noble families. It is
situated a little south of the Place d'ltalie, near the
point of junction of the Avenue St. Mand6 and the
Boulevard de Picpus.^ General Lafayette was buried
here by right of his wife, a member of the Noailles
family. The coffin was placed in earth brought from
America* Among other celebrities who rest here are
Comte de Montalembert and Sombreuil. Here also lie
the remains of thirteen hundred victims of the Revolu-
tion, who were guillotined at the Place de la Nation,
including Andr£ Ch^nier, the poet, General Beauhamais,
the husband of the Empress Josephine, and Lavoisier, the
chemist

The Bois de Yincennes is the remnant of an ancient
forest and hunting-ground of the Gapetian sovereigns.
Louis IX. occasionally administered justice here, and a
stone pyramid marks the site of an oak-tree which

^ Travellen are apt to confute this with the Cimeti^re da Sud, a
small cemetery close to the northern entrance of the Bois de Yincennes.

PUBLIC PABK8 AND 0ARJDEN8. 163

used to serve as his alfresco court of justice. Napoleon
in. turned it into a public park for the citizens of Paris,
and in the transformation more care seems to have been
taken to leave its natural features undisturbed than in the
case of the Bois de Boulogne. The extensive artificial
sheet of water (fifty acres in area, called the Lao de
Charenton or de Daumesnil, after a former governor of
the castie) is a very pleasing feature of this beautiful
park. The chief places of interest are the castie, with
its ancient keep and chapel, the Museum of Forestry on
one of the islands of the lake, the Butte de Oravelle,
whence there is a fine view of the charming valley of
the Mame, the model farm in connection with the Veteri-
nary College of Alfort, the race-course, and the pretty
littie Lac de St Mand6.

Though the castie and fortress of Yincennes has not
taken such a popular hold on the imagination as the
famous Bastile, it has occupied a far more prominent
position in the history of pre-revolutionary France. In-
deed, it is to French history what the Tower of London
has been to English history. Neither centuries nor revo-
lutions have destroyed the famous donjon or keep, the
remnant of the fortress built by Philippe de V alois on the
ruins of the medifleval hunting-lodge of Philip Augustus.
This immense keep, like the White Tower or keep of Lon-
don, forms a square with towers at its angles. The
walls are seventeen feet thick, about two feet thicker
than those of the Tower of London, and are absolutely
invulnerable except, of course, to modem artillery. From
the time of Louis IX. the donjon has been utilised as
a state prison, and the list of prisoners confined there
includes Henry lY. of France, the Grand Gond^, the

164 PABI8 IJSr ITS SPLENDOUR.

leader of the Fronde, Latude, Diderot, Mirabeau (for
three years), Charles Stuart, the ^^ Young Pretender,"
and the Due d'Enghien, the latter only for a few days
before his execution. The Stuart prince had been con-
fined at Vincennes previous to his expulsion from France,
in accordance with the terms of the treaty of Aix-la-
Chapelle. He had been arrested at the Op^ra, which
had been surrounded by twelve hundred of the Guards,
the evening before ; this gave rise to the caustic observa-
tion of the witty Princesse de Conti, who remarked that
he was ^ the only Englishman the regiment of French
Guards has taken throughout the war ! "

The treacherous execution of the Due d'Enghien, who
was shot in the moat of the castle of Vincennes on the
21st March, 1804, after a perfunctory trial, was perhaps
the greatest crime which Napoleon committed, and one
which even his most devoted admirers are unable to
extenuate. The duke was ostensibly arrested on suspi-
cion of having been in some way cognisant of the con-
spiracy of Georges Gadoudal and the Gomte d'Artois
against the life of the virtual sovereign of France, — for
Napoleon was not proclaimed emperor till a couple of
months later, — though no evidence was produced at the
court martial. But as a member of the League of Sov-
ereigns and States formed against Napoleon, he was
naturally opposed to the First Consul.

The Due d'Enghien happened to be visiting at a village
in Baden near the frontier, whereupon a small body of
the Strasbourg garrison crossed the Rhine, and carried off
the duke to Strasbourg, whence he was removed to Vin-
cennes. The following letter written to his morganatic
wife, Princess Charlotte de Rohan (still preserved among

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 165

the Archives Nationales at Paris), shows that the unfortu-
nate prince hardly realised the gravity of his position.
^< As far as I can remember, they will find letters from
my relations and from the king, together with copies
of some of mine. In all these, as you know, there is
nothing that can compromise me, any more than my
name and mode of thinking would have done during
the whole course of the Revolution. All the papers
will, I believe, be sent to Paris, and it is thought, accord-
ing to what I hear, that in a short time I shall be free ;
God grant it ! They were looking for Dumouriez, who
was thought to be in my neighbourhood. It seems to
have been supposed that we had had conferences together,
and apparently he is implicated in the conspiracy against
the life of the First Consul. My ignorance of this makes
me hope that I shall obtain my liberty, but we must not
flatter ourselves too much. The attachment of my peo-
ple draws tears from my eyes at every moment. They
might have escaped ; no one forced them to follow me.
They came of their own accord. ... I have seen no-
body this morning except the commandant, who seems
to me an honest, kind-hearted man, but at the same
time strict in the fulfilment of his duty. I am expect-
ing the colonel of gendarmes who arrested me, and who
is to open my papers before me."

Tried on this groundless charge of conspiracy by a
hastily summoned court martial, he was sentenced to be
shot within twenty-four hours. To add to the horrors
of his last moments, he found his grave already dug at
the place of execution, to which he was hurried by the
firing party in the early morning of March 2l8t. At
the Restoration his body was disinterred and buried in

166 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

the chapel. A bronze sarcophagus, with a portrait statue
by Desein^, marks the place.

To come to more recent times, in the present century
the keep of Vincennes has served as the place of con-
finement of the Prince de Polignac and the other min-
isters of Charles X., of Baspail, Barbds in 1848, and
several deputies who were imprisoned during the eaup
cTStat in 1851. Since the fall of Napoleon IIL it has
no longer been used as a prison, and is now a portion
of the artillery barracks; and, with the chapel, is the
only part of this great fortified enceinte open to the
public.

When Paris was occupied by the allied armies in
1814, the govemor of the castle. General Daumesnil
(whose name continually crops up in the local nomen-
clature), made a remarkably stout defence, and, accord-
ing to the popular legend, refused to surrender the fort
till the allies restored to him his leg, which he had lost
at the battle of Wagram ! This incident is illustrated
in the attitude of the statue by Rochet of the brave old
general in front of the Hdtel de Ville of Vincennes.^

The castle during the fifteenth and sixteenth centu-
ries served as one of the royal palaces, and was the
favourite residence of Charles YI. It enters into Eng-
lish history, as in the hundred years' war it was alter-
nately in the possession of the English and French, and
Henry Y. of England died here. Cardinal Mazarin lived
for some time in this castle, and it was here that he died.

1 It waa on aooonnt of this heroic defence that Jtiles Favre pleaded
socceesfully with Biamarck during the peace negotiations in 1671, at
Versailles, that Vincennes should be excluded from the forts to be
occupied by the Germans during the armistice.

PUBLIC PABK8 AND OABDMN8. 167

There are five gtories in tiie donjon, which is one hun-
dred and fleventy feet high. The groond floor aerred
aa the kitchen, on the firat floor were tiie king's apart-
ments, the queen's apartments were on the next floor,
while on the floor above lived the princes of tiie blood.
The officers of state used to occupy the out-buildings.

In the vaults is the torture room, or Salle de QueB-
tianj as this grim chamber was euphemistically termed.
<<Here is still seen a hole cut in the stone wall, just
large enough to receive the form of a man, which was
the bed of the victim ; strong bolts in the wall tiiat still
remain, with heavy iron chains, secured him to the spot,
and kept his limbs motionless during the application of
the* Question.'"

The view from the top of the donjon is magnificent,
and the extraordinary beauty of the country immedi-
ately surrounding Paris, not, as in London, separated by
a wide belt of thickly populated suburbs fringed by semi-
rural residential districts, but beginning almost at the
walls of Paris, will come as a surprise to the stranger.
The character of the landscape is graphically described
in the following passage taken from <*01d and New
Paris:"

^ There below, in that transparent vapour which the
sun's rays never more than half penetrate, those myriads
of roofo, those monstrous domes, those belfries, that stub-
ble of chimneys whence clouds of smoke are escaping,
that distant and ceaseless din which reminds one of the
waves breaking on some shore, proclaim the gayest city
in the world. At the foot of the edifice, the forest
stretches away, and behind the screen of trees lies a
limitiess country, in which cultivated fields extend to the

168 PAEI8 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

horizon. Everywhere orchards, hamletB, villages, meet
the eye. The Seine is not far off, and at no great dis-
tance, like a band of silver, the Mame meanders capri-
ciously through an immense plain studded with clumps
of trees.

<^ In that immense space which lies beneath the eye
there is scarcely a stone or a tree which does not recall
some memory. All those roads, all those footpaths, have
been trodden by men who were destined to leave a deep
mark on the history of France. There is not a comer
in this sylvan expanse where some civil or religious
combat has not taken place. The Normans, the English,
even the Cossacks, have made incursions here. There is,
according to the expression of one French writer, not a
tuft of grass which has not been stained with human
blood. Through the villages in sight princes and kings
have passed. Torch-lit corteges, conducting prisoners to
the dungeon and to death, have alternated with trium-
phant processions escorting sovereigns to their capital to
the flourish of trumpets. On that hill Charles Y II. raised a
castle — the Castle of Beauty — which preserves the mem-
ory of Agnes Sorel. In another part of the wood, near
Cr^teil, a little house was once tiie residence of Odette,
who consoled Charles Y I. Saint-Mand^ once possessed a
litUe park in which Louis XI Y., before he was the Louis
XIY. of Yersailles and of Madame de Maintenon, felt
the beat of his own heart ; for it was there that he met
the fascinating De la Yallidre. Under the shade of those
old oaks many other beautiful phantoms may, by the
imaginative mind, be seen gracefully gliding, — Gabrielle
d'Estr6es, for instance, Marguerite de Yalois, Madame de
Longueville, and Madame de Pompadour."

PUBLIC PARKS AND GARDENS. 169

The chapel of the castle, sometimes called La Samte
Chapelle, has recently been restored. It was begmi by
Charles V. about 1379, continued by Francis L, and com-
pleted by Henry II., and is one of the latest of the
Gothic churches in France. The curious decoration of
the spire, a crescent instead of a cross, was placed here
as it was the emblem of Diane de Poitiers, the famous
mistress of Henry U. Before the restoration of the
fabric this most inappropriate symbol for a Christian
church appeared on all the turrets and pinnacles. The
&9ade consists of a gable decorated with sculpture and
flanked by two crocketed spires.

In the window of the apse is some very good stained
glass by Jean Cousin. Here the letter H and the cres-
cent constantly appear, — in fact, Diane de Poitiers per-
vades the church. There is actually a portrait of this
celebrated courtesan in one of the windows, in which
she is represented naked in the midst of saints! The
portrait may be easily distinguished by the blue ribbon
in the hair. The monument to the hapless Due d'En-
ghien is of the conyentional pattern, and is not of high
artistic merit The prince is supported by Religion,
while France is represented as lamenting her loss, and
Vengeance invokes divine justice.

We have now seen all, with the exception of the
Salle d'Armes, that the public (unless furnished with a
special permit from the Minister of War, which is rarely
granted to foreigners) are usually allowed to see of the
Ch&teau de Vincennes. The armory is not, however,
worth visiting, as the collection is small and of little his-
toric interest, and far inferior to that of the Invalides.

The race-course of Vincennes is near the Redoute

170 PABia IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

de Gravelle (built to command the river Mame). An
important race-meeting is held here, though it is not by
any means a fashionable event, like the meetings of
Chantilly, Longchamp, or Auteuil. In fact, Yinoennes
is the Parisian East-enders' race-course, and might be
compared to our Hampton Park meeting.

In the middle of Uie Bois is the Polygene, where
the great national rifle-meeting, the Bisley of France,
takes place annually. This Tir National was organised
in 1884 by the League of Patriots, and is generally held
in September. The success of the inaugural meeting
shows how firm a hold the recreation of rifle and pistol-
shooting has upon Parisians. There were over thirty
thousand entries for the Ores prix of five thousand
francs, and numerous other prizes, and the total num-
ber of cartridges (rifle and pistol) fired throughout the
meeting exceeded half a million.

Pistols naturally suggest duels, and the Bois de Yin-
cennes has been a favourite loetdej second only to the
Bois de Boulogne, for the settlement of affairs of
honour. Two of the most celebrated duels fought here
were those between Alexandre Dumas, the elder, and his
collaborator in the << Tour de Nesle," and between Armand
Carrel, the boldest and most brilliant writer the press
possessed in the time of Louis Philippe, and another
famous journalist, ^ile de Oirardin.

*< Dumas tells us, in his * M^moires,' how, when he
appeared on the ground, he examined his adversary's
costume, and, while thinking it excellent as a * make-up,*
was sorry to find that it offered no salient mark for a
pistol-shot. M. Oaillardet was dressed entirely in black ;
his trousers, his buttoned-up coat, his cravat, were all as

PUBLIC PARKS AND 0ARDEN8. 171

inky as Hamlef s cloak, and, according to the Paris
fashion of the time, he wore no shirt collar. ^ Impossi-
ble to see the man,' said Dmnas to himself ; ^ there is
no point about him to aim at' He, at the same time,
made a mental note of the costmne, which he afterwards
reproduced in the duel-scene of <The Corsican Broth-
ers.' At last he noticed a little speck of white in his
adversary's ear, simply a small piece of cotton-wool. < I
will hit him in the ear,' said Dumas to himself ; and on
his confiding the amiable intention to one of his seconds,
the latter promised to watch carefully the effect of the
shot, inasmuch as he was anxious to see whether a man
hit with a bullet through the head turned round a little
before falling or fell straight to the ground. Dumas's
pistol, however, missed fire ; the delightful experiment
contemplated could not, therefore, be tried, and the
encounter was bloodless."^

The other duel had a more tra^c result <^ It was
early on the morning of July 22, 1836, that Armand
Carrel and M. de Girardin found themselves face to
face in the Bois de Yincennes. While the pistols were
being loaded. Carrel said to M. de Girardin : < Should
chance be against me, and you should afterwards write
my life, you will, in all honour, adhere strictly and
simply to the facts?' ^Best assured,' replied his
adversary. The seconds had measured a distance of
forty paces; the combatants were to advance within
twenty of each other. Armand Carrel immediately
took his place and advanced, presenting, despite the
urgent entreaties of M. Ambert that he would show
less front, the whole breadth of his person to his adver*
i«« Old and New Paris.**

172 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

sary's aim. M. de Girardin having also advanced some
paces, both parties fired nearly at the same instant, and
both fell wounded, the one in the leg, the other in the
groin." ^

^<I saw him,'' vrrote Louis Blanc some time after-
ward, ^ as he lay, his pale features expressing passion
in repose. His attitude was firm, inflexible, martial,
like that of a soldier who slumbers on the eve of bat-
tle." M. de Girardin was profoundly grieved at the
result of the duel, and he made a vow never to fight
again. Many years afterward, under the Republic of
1848, he visited the grave of the man he had killed, to
express his regret and ask for pardon, in the name of
the form of government to which he had now become
a convert, and which Carrel had always placed above
every other.

It may not, perhaps, be thought too abrupt a transi-
tion from duels to the Cemetery of Pdre la Chaise, for,
in spite of the time-honoured ridicule and sarcasm which
foreign journalists pour upon these encounters, they are
not, as we have seen, always such harmless affairs as is
popularly supposed.

Pdre la Chaise, << a place of tomb, where lie the mighty
bones of ancient men," is easily reached from the Bois
de Yincennes by the Rue de Picpus, Place de la Nation,
and Avenue Philippe Auguste.

Without exaggeration, this cemetery may almost be
said to be the grave of the intellect of France, for the
persons buried here include some of the most famous
names in the history of France within the past two
hundred years. To mention even a tithe of the notable
lipoid and New Paris.*'

PUBLIC PARKS AND QABDBN8. 173

persons buried here would occupy several pages, but a
few of the show graves — if the word is permissible in
this connection — will be briefly described. As to the
time required for Pdre la Chaise, which is said to be the
largest burial-ground on the Continent, it will depend a
good deal on whether it is the historical interest of
the persons buried here, or the artistic interest of the
monuments which chiefly attracts the tourist.

The beauty of the most famous monuments is, how-
ever, rather overrated, and the overelaborate and ornate
style of many of the best known tombs will not probably
appeal to the more cultivated taste of to-day.

Only the most determined of sightseers would care
to visit all the tombs, even of the most famous of the
great men in this vast necropolis, which contains nearly
twenty thousand graves ; and, indeed, too many tombs
are apt to produce the same weariness as too many pic-
tures. Many, however, are worth visiting for artistic
reasons alone, and it will probably be observed that the
artistic merit of the monument is often in inverse ratio
to the importance of the person commemorated. Those
with a turn for statistics may be interested to learn that
the cost of the innumerable monuments has been cal-
culated to amount to nearly £5,000,000.

The history of Pdre la Chaise can be traced from
mediffival times, when it was the property of the Bishop
of Paris, and was consequentiy called Champ de VJEvique.
Sometime in the fourteenth century it became the prop-
erty of a wealthy merchant called Regnault, who buflt
a large chiteau, which was \nown as the Folie Begnatdt.
In the seventeenth century the property fell into the
hands of the JesuitSi to whose superior, La Chaise,

174 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Louis XIV. had given it, and was called Mont Louis,
in compliment to the monarch. Pdre la Chaise is noto-
rious for having persuaded Louis XIY. to revoke the
Edict of Nantes, the Magna Charta of French Protes-
tants, but so much must be allowed to his credit that he
was opposed to the active persecution which followed the
Revocation. On the suppression of the Jesuits' order in
the Bevolution, Mont Louis was sold, and was eventuallj
acquired in 1804 by the city of Paris, and converted
into a cemetery.

<^Up to this time the dead had been buried in
churches or churchyards within the city, and the idea
of making a cemetery outside the walls seems to have
originated at Frankfort, and thence been introduced by
Napoleon into France, as since 1842 into England."

When the troops of the Allies threatened Paris, in
1814, the cemetery was fortified by the troops in the
capital, and formidable batteries and earthworks were
raised in the cemetery, which occupies a strategic posi-
tion commanding the roads from Yincennes. The
pupils of the School of Alfort» who were entrenched
here, successfully resisted two assaults of Russian troops
on March 80th. Paris, however, capitulating the same
evening, the Russians bivouacked in the cemetery, and
cut down some of the trees for fuel.

Then, in the terrible internecine war of the Commune,
Pdre la Chaise was the final place occupied by the revo-
lutionists in their desperate last stand, and some three
hundred of the bravest Communards, disdaining quarter
or surrender, were literally mown down by the Versailles
troops (who outnumbered them in the proportion of ten
to one), and were massacred to a man. They were

PUBLIC PARKS AND GARDENS. 175

buried where they fell. The exact spot is at the north-
eastern boundary, known as the Mur des F^d^r^s, and it
is indicated to the stranger by the numerous red wreaths
hung by sympathetic demonstrators on the wall. Close
to this wall are buried nearly a thousand Communards
in enormous ditches, the rows of bodies being simply
separated by layers of quicklime. Truly a gruesome
spot to the imaginatiye visitor!

Pdre la Chdse is, as a rule, reserved for the inhabi-
tants of the northeastern arrondissements (fifth to the
ninth), except for distinguished personages for whom
there is no <^ residential qualification." But the burials in
common graves (^fosses communes) are now discontinued
in the intramural cemeteries, and are only permitted in
the cemeteries outside the walls, such as St Ouen and
Ivry.

The principle of letting the graves is peculiarly
French. Certainly in France the English saying, that
even the poorest is entitied to a freehold estate in land
to the extent of his grave, would have no point At
the best, the interest is but leasehold. Graves of the
less well-to-do are only bought for five years, but the
rich can buy the freehold for a large sum, the lowest
being a thousand francs. The temporary graves cost
fifty francs only.

It is popularly supposed that the French government
ordered the removal of all crosses and other religious
emblems from public cemeteries. This error is, how-
ever, dispelled by a visit to any French cemetery. It
no doubt arose from the fact of the Paris municipality
having removed the crosses, not from the graves of the
municipal cemeteries, but from the entrance gatee. This

176 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

law is certainly reasonable enough, as the cemeteries
are essentially non-sectarian, and are intended for all
citizens, whatever their reli^ous conviction. It is in a
broad spirit of reli^oos toleration that the Paris au-
thorities have removed symbols which might o£Fend not
only Jews, Mohammedans, and other non-Christian bodies,
bat even Unitarians and Protestants of the strict evan-
gelical school, who object to a display of this religions
emblem.

The following list of a few of the great names in all
departments of homan knowledge and achievement will
show the comprehensive character of this national Val-
halla. It will be noticed that the church is very sparsely
represented at Pdre la Chaise.

In the world of Art and Literature: Paul Baudry,
Auber, Rossini, A. de Musset, Mars, Madame Rachel,
Ingres, B^ranger, E. Souvestre, Chopin, Weber, Cheru-
bini. Talma, Tamberlick, Michelet, Louis Blanc,
Bellini, Bizet, Delacroix, D*Aubigny, Balzac, E.
About, E. Scribe, Beaumarchais, Delaplanche, Molidre,
Harold, Fabre, Triqueti, La Fontaine, David, Oirodet,
Oros, Madame de Genlis, Flandrin, Lesueur, Yisconti,
Lenoir.

In Science: Arago, Champollion, St Hilaire, La-
place, Larrey, Cuvier, and Monge.

In War : Clement-Thomas, Lecomte, Lefebvre, Eel-
lermann,Mortier,Macdonald, Saint-Cyr, Sir Sidney Smith,
Suchet, Oobert, De Wimp£Fen, Ney, Davoust, Mass^na.

In Politics: Pozzo di Borgo, Qambetta, Manuel,
Thiers, Ledru-RoUin, Casimir-P^rier, Floquet, Lameth,
Due de Momy, Raspail, Sieyds, Anatole de la Forge,
Paul de la Forge, Cambac6rds, Blanqui.

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 177

Oreat Churchmen are represented by Ab^lard and —
strange joztaposition — Monod, the great pastor of the
Beformed Church of France.

Some of the monuments do not mark the actual rest-
ing-place of the persons commemorated. For instance,
Bossini is buried at Santa Groce, Florence, while the
remains of another. great composer, Bellini, have been
removed to his native town, Catania in Sicily. On the
other hand, no memorial marks the spot (a small par-
terre surrounded by ivy-clad walls at the junction of two
avenues near the Beaumarchais tomb) where Marshal
Ney is buried.

It is probable that Chopin will share with Bossini and
Bellini the doubtful honour of being exhumed and re-
moved to Cracow for interment in the national Valhalla
there. Many will regret that the bones of these famous
men should be disturbed from patriotic motives. Shake-
speare's well-known epitaph in Stratford-on-Avon Church
will no doubt occur to many in this connection.

But to nine visitors out of ten, Pdre la Chaise is
remembered and visited on account of the tomb of
Ab^lard and H^lo'ise. At all events, this is the most
popular monument, and is a traditional goal of pilgrim-
age for tourists of all nationalities. Aboard died in
1142, and was buried at the priory of St. Marcel.
H^loise, then abbess of the Paraclete (the abbey
founded by Aboard), had his remains removed to that
abbey, and on her death in 1165 she was buried near
him. At the dissolution of the monasteries in France
in 1792, the remains of the historic lovers were carried
in procession by the inhabitants of Nogent-aur-Seine to
the parish church.

178 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

As is well known, the business of undertakers is, in
France, a monopoly belonging to a corporation, known
as the Pompes Fundbres, who are under the control of
the municipal authorities. The scale of charges for
funerals is uniform throughout the Republic. It is
divided into nine categories, the lowest amounting to
fourteen shillings and ninepence, and the highest to
X284. In return for this monopoly the funeral con-
tractors have to pay a tax for each person buried, which
varies from six to forty francs.

To some persons, no doubt, there is something almost
indecent in the idea of taxing corpses, but it must not
be forgotten that the proceeds of this death duty are to
a large extent devoted to furnishing with a decent burial
gratuitously the very poor, whose friends cannot even
afford the modest tariff of the lowest category of fu-
nerals. For each pauper the municipality allows the
Pompes Fundbres the sum of five francs, the tax to
enable the poorer classes to be buried under the cheap-
est tariff, below cost price. For instance, a coffin has to
be provided for eight francs (three francs for a child).
The other funereal items are curious and instructive.
The services of a priest are put down at one franc,
twenty-five centimes, a sacristan at fifty centimes,
ornaments (pall, cross, etc.), fifty centimes, while low
mass is celebrated for one franc and a half. It will be
seen that communistic principles enter to some extent
into the French system of burial.

The monument consists of a rectangular chapel of the
thirteenth century style. The tomb was formerly sup-
posed to be the actual one in the Abbey of St Marcel.
Ab^lard and H^lo'ise are represented lying side by side.

PUBLIC PABK8 AND GARDENS. 179

The history of the tomb is calculated to lessen the sen-
timental feelings felt by many pilgrims to this shrine.
It is a composite monument, having been made by Lenoir
from stones of an arch of the Church of St. Denis, of
bas-reliefs taken from one of the tombs in that church,
and from fragments of a window of St. 6ermain-des-
Pr^s! This was customary in those disturbed times,
when the fragments of the mutilated monuments in
the churches were hastily collected to save them from
further destruction by the Revolutionists. Mistakes
were frequentiy made when the mutilated fragments of
statues were pieced together. Viollet-le-Duc gives an
amusing instance of the bare-faced manner in which old
statues were restored and rechristened. <<They had
duplicates of Charles Y. and of Jeanne de Bourbon, so
they turned one set into a St. Louis and a Marguerite
de Provence, a matter whidi caused," gravely remarks
the writer, ^^our historical painters to make singular
mistakes."

Some of the tombs are worth visiting on account of
the sculpture, and some, indeed, are noteworthy from
the appalling lack of taste in the design. Among these
must certainly be reckoned the ugly colossal pyramid,
over one hundred feet high, popularly known as the
*< sugar loaf," which marks the grave of a certain M. de
Beaujour. Owing to its height and situation, it is unfor-
tunately the most conspicuous object in Pdre la Chaise,
but, at all events, it serves a useful purpose as a con-
venient landmark in this densely populated city of the
dead.

Almost as conspicuous is the elegant D^midofiF monu-
ment, the most magnificent of any. It consists of ten

180 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

marble columns Bupportmg an entablature, under which
is a beautifully carved sarcophagus.

OikeT monuments worthy of a casual inspection are
those of Gherubini, with a bas-relief by Dumont ; Ed-
mond About, with a statue of the author by Crauk;
Baron Gobert, decorated with a group of statuary by
David ; and A. Thiers, one of the most elaborate in the
whole cemetery. At the entrance is a relief of Patriot-
ism, by Chapu, while in the interior of the chapel are
symbolical groups by the same sculptor and by Merci^.

Some good sculpture is to be seen in the tombs of the
Due de Momy, Triqueti, De la Forge, and Baspail.

The only Englishman of note buried in this vast
necropolis is Sir Sidney Smith, a hero unaccountably
forgotten by most of his countrymen, to whom the name
will probably recall the witty prebendary of St. Paul's
rather than the famous defender of St Jean d'Acre,
who, as is pertinently observed by Mr. J. E. C. Bodley,
arrested Bonaparte's ^gantic scheme of Eastern con-
quest, and who, in the emperor's opinion, seemed a
more fatal obstacle to his ambition than even Nelson
or Wellington.

Admirers of Delacroix, one of the most gifted paint-
ers France has produced, will not find it easy to discover
his tomb, as it lies in an obscure part of the cemetery,
and, in accordance with the artisf s wishes, it is not
indicated by any statue or emblem. ^< They libelled me
so much during my life," he remarked with excusable
bitterness, to an intimate friend, shortiy before his death,
<< that I do not want them to libel me after my death in
canvas or on marble."

Taking the Paris parks — for is not Pdre la Chaise a

PUBLIC PARKS AND GARDENS. 181

public park, dedicated to the dead? — in topographical
order, the next to be visited is the Buttes Chaumont,
within a short drive, or it can be convenientlj and
economically reached by the new cable tramway from
the Place de la B^publique.

The Buttes Chaumont should appeal to artists and
lovers of the picturesque far more than the better
known Pare Monceauz, with its somewhat trim and
suburban prettiness. Though this park is no larger
than our Green Park of London, the wild picturesque-
ness of the Buttes makes it appear much larger. It is
one of the best examples of artistic landscape garden-
ing in Paris. The striking and extensive views of the
city add much to the attractions of this charming
pleasure-ground.

Those who remember the squalid and sordid district
— a waste of disused quarries and rubbish heaps, the
haunt of beggars, thieves, and evil characters of all
conditions — which is now replaced by this cleverly
designed recreation-ground, must admit, whatever their
political views, that Napoleon III., in his zeal for restor-
ing and renovating his capital, has certainly deserved
well of his country.

No doubt sanitary considerations, as much as aes-
thetic, prompted the destruction of this Parisian Seven
Dials, and political motives also made it desirable that
this rallying-place of the disaffected classes of society
should be swept away. The transformation cost over
jS140,000. The quarries have been partially filled, and
the steep slopes converted into hanging gardens and
groves of trees. Oue of the escarped rocks is crowned
with a replica of the Temple of the Sibyl at Tivoli, while

182 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

at the chief entrance to the old quarries, a cascade a hun-
dred feet high, fed from the St. Martin's Canal, has
been constructed. Another picturesque feature is a
craggy, spire-like rock, like a miniature dolomite, over
forty feet high, in a large sheet of artificial water.
There is some good sculpture scattered about the park,
which is well worth inspecting.

As on most of the northern heights of Paris, there
was desperate fighting here between the insurgents of
the Commune and the Versailles troops in May, 1871.
The Buttes was one of the last strongholds of the Com-
munists, and here their supply of petroleum was stored.

Just north of the park, near the spot where now
stands the Lutheran church, once stood the celebrated
Montfaucon ^bbet, where in medisBval times criminals
were hanged in chains. ^ The gibbet consisted of a raised
stone platform, around three sides of which were fifteen
rough stone piers, forty or fifty feet high, joined by
three tiers of cross-beams of wood, to which criminals
were suspended by chains in three rows." The ghastly
character of this elaborate and colossal gallows was
belied by its innocent appearance, which was that of an
empty house of three stories.

Montfaucon will be remembered by students of French
history as the site of a famous battle, as it was here that
Eudes, Count of Paris, in 885 a.d., defeated the Normans,
who, according to contemporary chroniclers, left twenty
thousand of their dead on this sanguinary battle-field.

The cemetery of Montmartre occupies a commanding
position on the northern heights. As it is a littie out-
side the regulation tourist itinerary, it is not often
visited ; but those who are fond of making pilgrimages

PUBLIC PABK8 AND QABDENS. 183

to the tombs of the illustrious dead, should not omit
this cemetery, as it is the resting-place of many famous
artists, composers, and men of letters. In fact, in this
respect, it is second in interest only to the world-famous
Pdre la Chaise.

It is close to the Place de Clichy, and formerly cut
o£F the Butte Montmartre from direct communication
with the city, but in 1888, a viaduct, nearly a furlong
in length, was carried over the cemetery, uniting the
Butte Montmartre with the Boulevard de Clichy. This
was the first cemetery established outside. the Barriers
(for until Louis Philippe the Boulevard Clichy formed
the northern boundary of Paris), and is the oldest burial-
place in present use.

Among the famous Frenchmen and Frenchwomen
buried here, are Marshal Lannes, Paul Delaroche, Ary
Scheffer, Horace Yernet, Henri Murger, the author of
" La Vie de Bohfime," General Cavaignac, Hal^vy, Offen-
bach, Duchess of Abrantds, wife of Marshal Junot, Daru,
the historian of Venice, Greuze, the sculptor Pigalle, Th<-
ophile Gauthier, A. de Neuville, Alexandre Dumas fits,
Ernest Benan, M^ry, Berlioz, Viollet-le-Duc, etc.

The tombs which are noteworthy for their sculpture,
are few compared to those of the Pdre la Chaise. The
following, however, are worth inspecting :

Over the tomb of Cavaignac is a fine bronze recumbent
statue of the general by Rude.

The monument of the famous war painter, A. de
Neuville, is striking and appropriate. It represents the
gate of the St Privat Cemetery. Over the grave of the
author of ^^ La Vie de BohSme " is an excellent statue of
a youth, by Millet

184 PABI8 IN ITS aPLENBOUB.

The tomb of Th^ophile Ganihier will attract all lovers
of this great writer. It bears the following quotation
from his poems as an epitaph:

« L'oiseau s'en va^ la feuille tombe,
L 'amour s'^teint, car c'est Thiver ;
Petit oiseau, viens snr ma tombe,
Chanter quand I'arbre sera vert."

St Marceauz has sculptmred a fine recumbent statue
to indicate the spot where Alexandre Dumas fh lies
buried.

The beautiful monument by Milleti which adorns the
tomb which once contained the body of the patriot
Baudin (removed to the Pantheon in 1889), is one of
the most expressive in Montmartre.

There is one grave here which is of world-wide inter-
est, that of Heine. The tomb of the great poet was
until recentiy marked by a simple marble tablet

A somewhat romantic history attaches to the bust of
the poet which now adorns the grave. It was ordered
by the late Empress of Austria, shortiy before her death,
and was the last homage rendered by his great admirer
to her favourite poet

The Pare Monceaux is the smallest, but certainly the
prettiest and the best kept, of all the pleasure-grounds
of the capital. Its elegant appearance and ^surround-
ings give it the air of a large private garden rather
than that of a public park. It is the centre of a fashion-
able quarter, and probably in London it would have been
converted into an ordinary square garden. It was origi-
nally laid out on the model of an English garden for
PhiUppe ^galit^, but was of course confiscated by the

PUBLIC PARKS AND GABDEN8. 185

National Convention with all the other royal estatesy and
was thrown open to the public. Napoleon I. made a
present of it to Cambac^rds, and at the Bestoration it
was given back to the Orleans family. In 1861, it was
purchased by the city of Paris, and under Alphand, the
able lieutenant of Baron Haussmann, this small plot of
ground, scarcely as large as St. Stephen's Green, Dublin,
and about one-third the size of the London Green Park,
was transformed into the beautiful park as we now see
it, the most perfect gem of landscape gardening on a
small scale in France. The most beautiful feature is
the lake (known as the Naumachie), with the Corin-
thian colonnade as a picturesque background. This is a
judiciously restored fragment from the Therm» (Palais
des Thermes), and few ancient ruins, not in dtu, could
show to more advantage. Some fine old trees, probably
dating from pre-Revolution times, stud the grounds.

The specimens of sculpture here are very good.
Among them is the First Funeral (Burial of Abel), by
Barrias, a bronze statue of Hylas, by Morice, and Yer-
lefs monument to Guy de Maupassant

A very striking group of statuary is to be erected in
the course of 1900, in memory of Ambroise Thomas,
which will embody a novel treatment in monumental
symbolism. It is to be placed close to the lake, which
is intended by the artist to be part and parcel of the
conception. Close to the water, which will almost touch
her feet, is to be a statue of Ophelia, represented as pull-
ing her flowers to pieces. On a colossal block, repre-
senting a rock, will be placed a figure of the composer,
wrapped in a mantle, reflectively gazing on his heroine,
and preparing to write his inspiration on the rock.

CHAPTER IX.

THE BOULEYABDS AND CAF&.

It is not, however, by palaces, churches, and other
historical buildings alone that Paris arouses so much
enthusiastic interest among strangers. In fact, to many
travellers, the great boulevards are the most distinctive
feature of the capital. If not a city of churches like
Borne, of palaces like Venice or Oenoa, it is emphatic-
ally a city of boulevards and avenues.

If we attempt a comparison between Paris and an
American city, perhaps there is no city in the United
States which, in its general aspect and physiognomy, is
more likely to recall the French capital than Washing-
ton, and certainly (he political capital of America more
nearly resembles Paris than any other European capital.
The wide streets and avenues, lined with imposing public
buildings, and the extensive open spaces of the ^^city
of magnificent distances," invite comparison with Paris
of to-day. In each city we have long, stately vistas
closed by objects pleasing and refreshing to the eye, — a
magnificent portico of some church, a museum, a bit of
park or public garden, or some decorative feature such
as a statue or a monument. The similarity is, of courae,
only partial and on the surface, for there can be no
real likeness between a comparatively new growth like

THX BOULEVARDS AND CAFB8. 187

Washington and a historical city whose pedigree reaches
to fhe age of the Roman emperors.

The exhilaration produced by the wide and brightly
illuminated streets, the avenues of trees, interspersed
with the gaily painted kiosques^ between which flows a
constant stream of elegant carriages and lofty, top-heavy
omnibuses, the bright-looking houses, and the chattering
and lively crowds, will be found almost infectious even
by the phlegmatic Englishman.

The crowds recall those of London, but there is not
the stem business atmosphere of the British metropolis.
Most of the passers-by are talking, and their walk is
the stroll which one associates with the park or Pall
Mall rather than with the bustling tide of traffic, which
one expects in a great thoroughfare.

Edmondo De Amicis, who has a true feeling for
the Parisian atmosphere, sums up effectively and pic-
turesquely the aspect of the fashionable boulevards : ^ It
is not a street through which we are passing, but rather
a succession of squares. A single immense square deco-
rated for a fdte, and overflowed by a multitude gleaming
in quicksilver. Everything is open, transparent, and
exposed to view, as at an elegant open-air market The
eye penetrates to the last recesses of the rich shops, to
the distant counters of the long white and gilded caf ^s,
and into the high rooms of the princely restauranto,
embracing at every slight change of direction a thou-
sand beauties, a thousand surprises, an infinite variety
of treasures, playthings, works of art, ruinous trifles and
temptetions of every kind, from which one only escapes
to fall into a similar snare on the opposite side of tibe
street"

188 PARIS IN ITS aPLBNDOUB.

But it 18 in tibe BouleyardB des Italiens and des
Capacines that we realise that we are in the very heart
of all that Paris seems to symbolise, — tibe very centre
of tibe world's pleasure city, whither is attracted tibe gold
and the folly of every quarter of the globe.

*^ Here," to borrow again De Amicis's somewhat Ori-
ental imagery, ^^ is splendour at its height ; this is ihe
capital of capitals, the open and permanent palace of
Paris, to which all aspire and everything tends. Here
the street is a square, the pavement a street, the shop
a museum, tibe csi6 a theatre, — everywhere beauty,
elegance, splendour, and dazzling magnificence. The
horses pass in troops, and the crowd in torrents. It is
a rivaby of magnificence and stateliness which borders
on madness. Here is the cleanliness of Holland and
the gaiety of colour of an Oriental bazaar. It seems like
one immeasurable hall of an enormous museum, where
the gold, jewels, laces, flowers, crystals, bronzes, pictures,
all tibe masterpieces of industry, all the seductions of
art, all the finery of riches, and all the caprices of
fashion are crowded together and displayed in a profu-
sion which startles, and a grace which surprises. The
eye finds no space upon which to rest On every side
gleam names illustrious in the kingdom of fashion and
pleasure, while even the shops blazon forth an aristo-
cratic luxury, provoking and bold. Here there is no
substantial beauty; it is a species of theatrical and
effemmate magnificence, a grandeur of ornamentation,
excessive, and full of coquetry and pride, which dazzles
and confuses like blmding scintillatiou, and expresses
to perfection the nature of a great, opulent, and sensual
city living only for pleasure and glory."

THE B0ULSVABD8 AND CAFES. 189

Probably some strangers visiting Paris for the first
time, after they have recovered from the sense of aston-
ishment and bewilderment which these dazzling pictures
oilavie numdaine will, perhaps, produce, feel that Paris,
compared with the other great historical capitals of
Europe, — Borne or Vienna, for instance, — lacks a cer-
tain dignity and restraint ; and, indeed, its more serioua-
minded citizens rather resent the aspect in which Paris
is r^arded by the generality of foreigners ; namely, as
a cosmopolitan city of pleasure or a great international
casino. But the exhilaration produced by the life and
colour and gaiety will soon banish these sentiments as
morose manifestations of hypercriticism, and, after all,
the spectacle which the picture of Ufe on the fashionable
boulevards presents is absolutely unique. What dty in
the whole world can offer such a sight as the living
stream which flows perennially down tibe wide gar-
landed avenues, bounded by tibe brilliant cafds, which
seem two interminable walls of glass ?

The cosmopolitan character of the crowd is another
striking feature of Parisian boulevard life. One is pre-
pared for this, say on the Oalata Bridge at Constanti-
nople, or in the Main Street of Gibraltar, or in tibe
Mooski of Cairo, but here it is the cosmopolitanism of
the West, and not of the East On the Constantinople
Bridge one sees all the nations of the East pass by ;
here, in front of the great cafte, all ihe nations of tiie
West stream past

In order to see the boulevards at their best, the
stranger should, if possible, time his arrival in Paris so
as to get his first view of them by gaslight It is as
great a nodstake, aesthetically speaking, to obtain one's

190 PABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

first impression of Paris in daylight, as it would be to
arrive at Venice, Naples, or Constantinople by land
instead of by sea.

Cosmopolitan travellers are fond of comparing the
grand boulevards with the famous streets of other Euro-
pean capitals. When, however, we speak of the boule-
vards, it must be remembered that we refer to those of
the Parisian, — that is, the continuous series of boule-
vards which extend from the Madeleine to the Bastile.
In fact, to the true hatdevardierj the term is still more
limited in its interpretation, and is practically confined
to the boulevard from the Madeleine to the Rue de
Richelieu. The other great boulevards, from the point
of view of society, are little more than a geographical
expression.

In picturesqueness and artistic beauty, the boulevards
cannot, of course, hope to compete with the High Street
of Oxford, Princes Street, Edinbui^h, or the Corso of
Rome, perhaps the most beautiful thoroughfares in the
world. But it is futile to compare an essentially mod-
em street with these historic highways. Perhaps, in
its spaciousness and architectural splendour, the great
boulevards rather suggest Berlin's magnificent Unter
den Linden, though to some tibe Avenue de la Orande
Armde seems a more accurate comparison. This mag-
nificent street has certainly two features in common
with the Avenue de la Grande Arm^e, terminating at
one end in attractive landscape, and at the other end
in an impressive pile of architecture.

Some visitors see a superficial resemblance between
the boulevards and the great avenues of Philadelphia,
Baltimore, or Washington, and certainly they have spa-

THE B0ULEVABD8 AND CAWis. 191

cionsness, length, and uniformity of architectoral outline
in common.

The only resemblance to Broadway, New York, is
that each may be considered a three-fold street. In
New York there is a business Broadway, a shopping
Broadway, and a residential Broadway, which correspond
roughly to the triple character of the Paris boulevards.

It is curious how Paris, like London, Berlin, and other
European capitals, seems subject to that constant law of
nature by which the tide of fashion sets westward. In
London it is sufficiently obvious to be noticed by passing
strangers, while in Berlin we have the striking example
of the Thiergarten, the fashionable western extension of
the Unter den Linden. In Paris, this tendency has been
very marked since the beginning of the Second Republic.
Fifty years ago the Boulevard St. Martin was the fash-
ionable hcale^ and the Gymnase Theatre was in the cen-
tre of the fashionable boulevards ; a generation later it
was the Boulevard Montmartre ; and now the Boulevard
des Gapucines is the boulevard par excellence. A corre-
sponding tendency has taken place in our metropolis in
the last century, Bond Street and Begent Street having
replaced the Strand and Fleet Street, as the Londoner's
promenade. But to the Parisian, the Boulevard is much
more than a mere promenade. It is his salon or club,
and, in one sense, his home, as the more hours he can
spend upon his beloved asphalt the happier he is. The
domicile of the Parisian is little more than his sleeping
quarters. Is it not proverbial that in his dictionary
tiiere is no such word as ^^ home " ?

That essentially modem thoroughfare, the magnificent
Avenue de TOp^ra, has never become popular as a lounge

192 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

or promenade with Parisians. There are no caf^s here,
for one thing, and perhaps it is too much frequented by
foreigners intent on viewing the shops to be a congenial
resort with typical batdevardiers and fldneurs. It is, in
short, like the Rue de la Paiz, one of the most fashion-
able shopping quarters, and that is all.

The Avenue de TOp^ra, however, in spite of its com-
parative unpopularity, is certainly, for its length, one of
the grandest modem streets of any city in Europe, and
Parisians are deservedly proud of it.

The avenue is not, as is sometimes supposed, one of
the Haussmann streets. It was constructed in the sev-
enties, and shows that the engineers and architects of
the Third Republic have well maintained the reputation
earned by Baron Haussmann and M. Alphand for mag-
nificent street architecture.

It must be admitted, however, tiiat private were un-
duly sacrificed to civic interests, in this transformation
of Paris. In order to make this grand avenue and
boulevard, scores of small streets were ruthlessly pulled
down, and thousands of the poorer classes rendered
homeless. In fact. Baron Haussmann and his assistant,
M. Alphand, when planning one of these magnificent
thoroughfares, seemed to have acted on the same princi-
ple of ignoring the needs of the masses as the Emperor
Nicholas in the construction of Ibe railway from St
Petersburg to Moscow. It will be remembered tiiat
when the engineer of the line asked the Czar of all the
Russias through what towns the new line should pass,
and proposed a divergence of a few miles from the
direct route, for the benefit of one important ciiy, the
emperor, in reply, using his sword as a ruler, drew a

THE B0ULEVABD8 AND CAFiS. 193

straight line between the ancient and the modern capi-
talfly and intimated his wish that the new railway should
take that route. In the same way, Baron Haussmann,
armed with a ruler and a large scale map of the capital,
drew straight lines from one central place to another for
his new streets.

The part that M. Alphand, the engineer of the city of
Paris in Haussmann's regime, played in the renovation
of Paris has not been sufficiently appreciated. It is
to Alphand that the magnificent work of restoring and
remodelling Paris is really due, for Baron Haussmann
was little more than the imperial agent and paymaster.
Recently Parisians have become alive to this, and a fine
statue by Dalou to Alphand' s memory was erected in
1899, in one of the places of Paris.

O. A. Sala hit off very accurately the characteristic
features of the Avenue de I'Op^ra in the following pas-
sage ; but it must be remembered that it was written a
score of years ago, as is evidenced by his allusions to
the Holbom Viaduct and Milan Gallery as examples of
the greatest achievements of modem times in street
architecture. These constructions would hardly be con-
sidered nowadays such wonderful triumphs of architec-
tural enterprise.

<^ I look, myself, on the Avenue de TOp^ra as one of
the three most remarkable achievements of essentially
modem architectural constmction. The other two are
the Holbom Viaduct and the GalleriaVittorio Emanuele
at Milan. In one respect the avenue has some affinity
to the greatest metropolitan improvement of the early
years of this century. Regent Street This last-named
and noble thoroughfare was, as the avenue is, a street

194 PAEI8 IN ITS aPLENDOUR.

with a definite and dominant idea. *• I will pierce,' said
Nash, in effect, to the prince regent, < right through one
of the most crowded and most squalid districts in Lon-
don, a splendid and spacious street, directly connecting
the Royal Park of Marylebone with your Royal High-
nesses palace at Carlton House.' The connection between
the Regent's Park and the site of Carlton House at the
Duke of York's Column was successfully carried out,
but unhappily in England we are in the habit of doing
things architecturally by halves. Nash was permitted
to demolish the ugly and grimy old thoroughfare, known
as Oreat Swallow Street, but he was compelled to leave
behind the northern side of his magnificent street an
unsavoury fringe of still existing and scarcely improvable
slums. Had he been allowed, as he wished, to pull
down Gamaby Street and Silver Street, and throw open
Golden Square into Regent Street, and, especially, had
the houses which he built in Regent Street been six
instead of four stories high, his triumph would have
been complete. In the Avenue de I'Op^ra the construct-
or's motto has been, throughout. Vestigia nulla retnyrwm.
No slums impinge on the splendour of the new street It
has no eatUisses of dirt and squalor. Every street, to the
smallest which debouches into it, has been swept and
garnished, and its alignment is perfect."

The bombardment of Paris by the Oermans, and the
wanton destruction of public buildings during the inter-
necine conflict between the Paris insurgents of the Com-
mune and the government troops, afforded Alphand a
fine field in which to carry out his magnificent plans
for the restoration of the capital. After the war he was
named Director of Public Works by M. Thiers, and

THB BOULEVARDS AND CAFts. 195

continued to hold that poet for more than twenty years.
In this period, among the great architectoral enter-
prifles by which he embellished the capital, besides the
Avenue de I'Op^ra (which, indeed, had been contem-
plated by Napoleon III.), are the Place d'ltalie, the
Place de la BJpablique and the Bne Monge. These
undertakings are worthy to be compared with the Bois
de Boulogne, the Buttes Ghaumont, the Avenue de
rObservatoire, and the Boulevards de Strasbourg and
S^astopol of the Second Empire.

The Parisians of the Third Republic are, perhaps, too
apt to forget how much the improvement and renova-
tion of their capital was due to tibe initiative of Napo-
leon in. He may not have been a good ruler for
France, but he certainly did more than any other sover-
eign since Louis XIY. to embellish Paris and make it
the show capital of Europe.

Of course the cost of rebuilding Paris was enormous,
amounting, it has been computed, to sixty million
pounds, but then the work was stupendous, the Hauss-
mannising resulting in the creation of over two hundred
streets and boulevards, twelve bridges, over a score of
places, and three public parks, to say nothing of govern-
ment palaces and other public buildings.

^ The rise in the value of house property kept pace
witii this extraordinary expenditure. The cost, although
enormous, of each new street or place carried with it
its justification, for the neighbouring property acquired
by the municipality fetohed very high prices. Of
course the artist, the archaeologist, and the antiquary
cannot forgive this wholesale destruction of famous
sites, for Old Paris was in great measure blotted out by

196 PABIS IN IT8 SPLENDOUR.

the improvementB. Still, Paris as a city has gained in
dignity, and in all its history was never so worthy to be
the capital of a great country as now."

The most prominent^ and even obtrasive, features of
the boulevards are the caf^s and restaurants, and if one
arrives at Paris in the evening on a summer day, the
first impression is that it is a city of gaurmandisej —
caf^s, restaurants, brasBeries^ bouillon, and Duval estab-
lishments seem to monopolise the main thoroughfares,
and all Paris seems dining al fresco.

Of the many impressionists who have attempted the
difficult feat of picturing the out-door life of Paris,
perhaps the most successful is the Italian traveller,
De Amicis, whose description I have already quoted.
With a fidelity to detail worthy of Zola himself, he de-
scribes the growing commotion in the boulevards which
heralds the approach of the dinner-hour, when all the
gay world pours forth from the neighbouring streets,
avenues, and squares (or rather circuses, for there are
no squares in Paris), seeming to focus itself in the
Boulevard des Capucines, the procession of innumerable
three-decker omnibuses coming and going, cleaving their
way through a maze of victorias and fiacres^ and the
thronging crowds who seem to be storming the caf^s
and restaurants.

<«From all sides come the sounds and clinking of
glasses and silver on the dinner-tables spread in the
sight of all. The air is soft and warm, filled with the
perfume of Havana cigars and the penetrating odour
of absinthe, mingled with the sweet fragrance from
the flower-stalls and the perfumed garments of the
Parisiennes."

THJB BOULEVARDS AND CAWia. 197

The crowds increase as the evening draws on, and even
the broad avennes seem too narrow to hold the surging
whirlpools of well-dressed people. The thronged cafSs
are like the stalls of a vast open-air theatre, of which
the boulevard is the stage.

But this is only the ^< curtain-raiser '' to the great
spectacle which Paris alone of the world's capitals can
show us. Later on, when the great restaurants have dis-
gorged their guests, and the caf^s seem almost overflow-
ing into the roadway, the early evening display seems
almost tame by contrast. ^ The boulevards are blazing.
The shops cast floods of brilliant light half across the
streets, and encircle the crowd in a golden haze. The
iUuminated kioBqueSj extending in two interminable rows,
resembling enormous Chinese lanterns, give to the street
the fantastic and childlike aspect of an Oriental fSte.
The numberless reflections, the thousands of luminous
points shining through the trees, the rapid motion of
the innumerable carriage lights that seem like myriads
of fire flies, the purple lamps of the omnibuses, the hun-
dred thousand illuminated windows, all these theatrical
splendours half conceal the verdure which now and
then allows a glimpse of the distent illuminations, and
presente the spectecle in progressive scenes. All this
produces at first an indescribable impression on the
stranger. It seems like an immense display of fire-
works, which suddenly being extinguished will leave the
city buried in smoke."

Many of the great caf^s of the boulevards, which in
the late sixties were in themselves sighte for foreigners,
and the resort of tout ee qiCil y a de plu9 ehie de Paris^
certainly exist now, so far as their titles are concerned,

198 PABI8 IN ITB SPLENDOUR.

but they have bo completely lost their character, that
little of their individaality remainB to remind the fld--
neurs of the Second Empire of their former glory. The
most striking instance of this is the Gaf^ de la Paix,
whose former frequenters seem swamped by crowds of
foreigners and tourists. It is true that the Caf^ des
Anglais and the Restaurants Maison Dor^e and Bignon
are still in existence, but they have lost much of their
individuality.

As for the old caf^ and restaurants of the Palais
Boyal, which were at the height of their fame under
Louis XVlli. and Charles X., they have, with the sole
exception of the Y^f our, been replaced by cheap and pre-
tentious restaurants, d prix fixe^ the delight of foreigners
and economical bourgeois.

The Paris restaurants seem, indeed, to have been sub-
jected to the same tendency as the great hotels. The
huge and palatial hdtels de luxe, like the Orand, Conti-
nental, Terminus, or the new ^lys^ Palace, take the
place of the comparatively small, exclusive, but equally
costly Hdtel Bristol or Meurice, regarded as out of date
and old-fashioned by modem travellers. These colossal
hotels, with their half-dozen passenger lifts, telephones
and winter gardens, in which the traveller is no longer
an individual guest but a mere number, successfully
cater for the traveller in this plutocratic age, when
obtrusive luxury and grandeur on a large scale are
chiefly in demand.

Something of the same kind has been experienced
by re^taurateursj though not to so marked an extent
The really first-class establishments, such as the Durand,
Yoisin, or Anglais, are relatively fewer, and some of the

THE B0ULEVABD8 AND CAFES. 199

famous caf^s have been converted into hrag^erie^ or Star
blissemefUs de louUlon.

Probably a reaction will set in, as it has in the case
of hotels, and the success of the new and comparatively
small houses, such as the Hdtel Bitz in the Place Yen-
ddme, shows that there is a travelling public who prefer
luxury coupled with solid comfort, comparative privacy,
and good but unpretentious cooking, to the luxe run riot,
colossal rooms, richly dressed crowds, and the noisy cos-
mopolitan tables cThStej which are such obtrusive features
of the modem palatial hotel.

A retrospective survey of the Paris restaurants and
caf ^s during the Second Empire, when they were at the
heyday of their prosperity, would require several vol-
umes. In fact, a history of Parisian caf^s and restau-
rants would be practically a history of the political, social,
and literary life of the capital during that period.

The space at my disposal will, however, admit only
of a brief mention of the more celebrated ones. One
of the oldest restaurants, the famous Tortoni, no longer
exists. It was founded in 1798 by two Italians, Tortoni
and Yelloni, and during the First Empire disputed, with
V^ry*s and the Trois Prires Proven^aux of the Palais
Boyal, the claim to be considered the leading Paris
restaurant

Of the historic restaurants which flourished at the
Restoration, and were at the height of their popularity
when Paris was occupied by the Allies in 1814 and
1815, only the Caf^ Anglais, Maison Dor^e, in the boule-
vards, and the Restaurant Y^four, in the Palais Royal,
now remain. And, even of these, the Caf^ Anglais is
the only one that has had an absolutely continuous his-

200 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

tory. As a fashionable dining-place, the Caf^ Anglais
maintains its vogue, especially with foreigners of dis-
tinction, few of whom visit the capital without dining
at least once at this historic establishment Its desti-
nies are now controlled by a limited liability company.

The Caf^ de Paris, in the Avenue de I'Op^ra, was not
opened till 1822, and at that time was considered one
of the best in Europe. During the Third Empire a
comparatively new caf^, the Caf^ de la Paix, owing to
its patronage by the Imperialists, became the most fash-
ionable in Paris. The proprietors of this establishment
plume themselves on its choice by the Prince of Wales
for the famous dinner he gave the British Commissioners
at the last Paris Exhibition.

The Maison Dor^ does not belie its title, and though,
in the opinion of epicures and gourmetSy its cuisine is
not now absolutely hars de cancaursj it maintains its
reputation for costliness and a fashionable clientile. In-
deed, the high charges of the Maison Dor^e are pro-
verbial and gave rise to the following witty epigram:
^ n faut 6tre riche pour dtner chez Hardy, et trds hardi
pour diner chez Biche." The point will be seen when
it is remembered that the proprietor's name was Hardy,
and that the equally expensive Restaurant Riche was
only a few doors off. During the siege many of the
great restaurants, including the Maison Dorte, closed
their doors, but the Restaurants Durand, Bignon, Yoisin,
de la Paix, and Anglais managed to keep open in spite
of the bombardment, and Durand's especially plumed
itaeU on giving its elienta the best white bread tbruttgti-
out the whole period of the tnvestment

The subject of dining and rest

THE BOULEVARDS AND CAF^S. 201

sidered, perhaps, by the hypercritical to be too trivial
and frivolous to be seriously discussed in a book of
this dass. But it cannot be gainsaid that the foreigner
who wishes to know something of Paris below the sur-
face, and who aims at obtaining an insight into the life
of the people and their manners, customs, and mode of
life, should not ignore this subject, which is not merely
of gastronomic interest In a survey, however superfi-
cial and cursory, — and even a book of this bulk has its
limits, — of Parisian life in all its phases, its social laws
and fashions, its politics, its literature, its recreations,
and, in a word, its whole social fabric, we cannot afford to
neglect this essentially living subject. Besides, whether
we Britishers, taunted with our ^' hundred religions and
one sauce," regard it as a reproach or not, the fact re-
mains that dining in Paris has been elevated to a fine
art, and is an important factor in the social life of the
capital.

According to Mr. Theodore Child, than whom there
is perhaps no better authority on this topic, the art of
cooking has experienced a great falling off of late
years. ^^ The men of the present generation do not seem
to have the sentiment of the table ; they know neither
its varied resources nor its infinite refreshments ; their
palates are dull, and they are content to eat rather than
to dine."

To the gourmet of the clubs this is a heavy indict-
ment, but it cannot be said to be undeserved. Probably
tlie decadence in the culinary art must be attributed
partly to the iiicreasing vtiinio of the great hotel tahlu-
^rhMt^ open to all J whether guests of the hotel or
fiol, such aa the popular prix fxt dinner of the huge

202 PABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UE.

hotels. Grand, TerminuB, Louvre, or Continental, where
the charge varieB from six to eight francs. At the
daily banquets of these huge cosmopolitan caravansa-
ries, one dines in company with representatives of all
countries of the world. The profusion of linen and of
silver plate, the luxurious appointments, and the music
of the band no doubt help to distract the attention of
the diner from the sameness of the menu, the insipid-
ness of the joints, and the cheapness of the sauces. As
these dinners are not much better than the ordinary
8«. 6<2. dinners of the London Criterion, Gaiety, Hol-
bom, and other popular restaurants (which country
cousins delight in, but which Londoners who know
their London studiously avoid), they cannot be consid-
ered cheap. In fact, much better value for one's money
is to be found at the five franc dinner of the large prix
fixe restaurants, of which the well-known Diner EurapSen
is a type.

But to whatever causes we may attribute the dete-
rioration of the cuisine in the great French restaurants,
most will agree that it exists. The traditions of the
haute cuUine of the Second Empire have in a great
measure been forgotten, and at present the great restau-
rants (with a few exceptions) no longer mainly depend
upon Parisian viveur% and clvbUU%. They are sup-
ported in the main by foreign tourists and visitors from
provincial France. It is not to be wondered at, then,
that criticism of the cookery lacks knowledge and dis«
crimination ; that the plate are less varied, and that the
eeprit de eotpe of the chef has been lessened in conse-
quence. In short, Mr. Theodore Child sums up the
present position of Paris restaurants in a nutshell, when

THE B0ULBVABL8 AND CAF^S. 203

he observes that cooking has become nowadays more an
mdustry than an art

The charges of these first-class restaurants are not
really excessive for those who know the ropes. The
gourmet and the ban vivant^ who is not attracted by the
crowded tables cPhSte of the great hotels and the lack
of variety in the bourgeoise cuisine of the Duval and
bouillon establishments, can breakfast or dine at the
Caf^ de Paris or Y^four, if not at the Caf6 Anglais or
Maison Dor^e, at little more than the price of the pre-
tentious banquet of seven or eight courses at the Grand
or Continental. But then he will be satisfied with
three courses, — each, however, cooked to perfection, —
say soup, one pUU^ cheese, and half a bottle of M^doc
or Mafon, which will not cost more than eight or nine
francs, while if he dines with a friend the cost is pro-
portionately less, as one portion usually suffices for two
persons. Consequently, even at the Caf ^ Anglais, which
is perhaps the most expensive, two friends could dine well
for a total expenditure of not more than twenty francs.
The judicious diner of moderate means will forswear hors
cPoeuvres and dessert The difference these extra trifles
will make to the total of the addition is surprising.

Considering the enormous rents of these restaurants,
the high salaries paid to the eh^%j and the excellence of
the service and appointments, the charges are certainly
not unreasonable. But, as has been hinted already, a
visitor must know how to dine, — as the great apostle
of gourmets, Brillat-Savarin, aptly observes, ^ L'homme
d'esprit seul salt manger." Having ascertained the
restaurants where the best Parisian cooking is to be
found, the next thing is to know what to order. It is

204 PABia IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

well, no doubt, to know what is the particular specialty
of the house, whether the poulet d Marengo at Joseph's
(Restaurant Marivaux), %ole Colbert at the Anglais, or
canetan a la pressS at Bignon's, but such knowledge is
not to be obtained by the casual customer.

Avoid the notorious forty or fifty sous restaurants.
The modest Duval, or even the simple cold repast obtain-
able at a braseeriej will give far more satisfactory results.

To the stranger, there is a delusive similarity '^ on
paper " between the 2 ^. or 2 fr. 60c. dinner of the Palais
Royal restaurants, and that of the table cThStes of the Con-
tinental or Terminus, at three times the price. Ears
cPoeuvreiy potage, fish, an entrSe^ a rdtiy an entremets^ a
sweet, cheese, dessert, duly appear on the menu. But
here the resemblance ends. '<You are in a Shadowy
Land, where ^ all things wear an aspect not their own.'
Somehow a fishy flavour gets into the bruised peach or
the sleepy pear of the dessert ; and it mmt have been
fromage de Brie that you tasted just now in the
chocolate cream. My own opinion is that it is *the
gravy that does it,' and that the foundation of that
gravy is something beyond mortal ken. The fish in-
duces you to think that there are finny denizens of
the deep as yet undiscovered by Mr. Frank Buckland ;
and as for the meat — well, what was it that the
wicked Count Cenci gave his daughters to eat, —
'the fevered flesh of buffaloes,' or some such unholy
viands ? I have partaken of many strange meals, but
there \b 2k Je ne sate quoi about some of the dishes at
the cheap Paris restaurants altogether beyond my pow-
ers of definition or analysis." ^

1 G. A. Sala.

THE BOULEVARDS AND CAWts. 205

The decline in the popularity of these prixfrte restan-
rantB of the Palais Boyal may be said to date from the
first great Exhibition in 1865. The vast crowds of for-
eigners which thronged these restaurants seem to have
disorganised the service, and caused the cuisine to dete-
riorate. Since this period the forty-sous restaurants
have served as a stock subject for the witticisms of
Parisian journalists and baulevardiers. The decadence
of the Palais Boyal cheap restaurants gave an impetus
to the new enterprise then started of the large popular,
but more ambitious and expensive, prix fixe restaurants
of the grand boulevards, of which the famous Diner de
Paris (which is still in existence) was the forerunner.
Here the one uniform price was 3 fr. 50 c, for which cus-
tomers were offered a plentiful dinner, admirably cooked,
and served in a salon far more spacious than in any of
the costly old-established restaurants, and decorated as
lavishly as the famous Orand Seize Salon of the Caf6
Anglais. This kind of restaurant has suffered the usual
penalty of success by being extensively imitated in Lon-
don^ — the popular three-and-six-penny dinners of the
Holbom and Criterion restaurants are well-known ex-
amples, — as well as in Paris. The kind of restaurants
generally known by the generic title of Diner — Diner
de Paris, Diner Fran9aise, Diner Europ^en, etc. — are
perhaps even more popular with Parisians of moderate
means than with foreigners, who prefer the more cosmo-
politan table cPhdte of the great tourist hotels.

In consequence, for it will be readily admitted a
Frenchman is far less tolerant of indifferent cooking
than a foreigner, whatever his nationality, the Diner de
Paris class of restaurants gives perhaps as good value for

206 PARia IN rra bplendoue.

the money as any restaurant in Paris. These establish-
ments have, of course, their shortcomings. They are
generally very crowded, and the sta£F of waiters, to Eng-
lish notions, is under-manned, and a late comer will be
compelled to dine in an atmosphere thick with smoke.

A more recent development in the restaurant world
of Paris is the genesis of the Duval and Bouillon estab-
lishments. This is a successful attempt to do for the
petite bou]^;eoisie and employ^ what the Dtner de Paris
and similar establishments have done for the rentier and
bourgeois of moderate means. These well-known estab-
lishments are admirably organised, reasonably moderate
in price, and the food is genuine and well-cooked. It is
a popular fallacy to suppose, however, that these res-
taurants are so very cheap. It is true tliat a person
with a slender appetite can dine fairly well for an ex-
penditure of two or three francs, but a customer who is
really hungry will find that, owing to the extreme small-
ness of the portions, it will be necessary to expend rather
more to satisfy his appetite than the prixfixe of a Diner
de Paris.

Other objections are the lack of ventilation, the great
crowds, — over tiiree million meals are served during
tiie year at the score or so of Duvals in Paris, — and
the slowness of the service.

If I may venture upon the delicate and invidious task
of classifying the restaurants and caf^s according to
merit, few will dispute that the Anglais, Adolphe, Pell^,
Maison Dor^, de Paris, Bignon, Marivaux, Durand,
Yoisin, Y^four, and Am^ricain, should be placed in the
first rank. In another category might be placed the
CheviUiard, Champeaux, near the Bourse, Edouard,

THE B0ULBVABD8 AND CAFJ^S. 207

opposite the Op^ra Comique, Noel-Petera, Laurent,
Ledoyen in the Champs ^ys^es, and Armenonville and
Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne.

Among the first-class restaurants should also be
included those attached to those veritable hdtels de luxe,
the Hdtel Bitz and Hdtel des Champs ^lys^es. The
former of these two is even more in repute as a restau-
rant of the highest class than as a hotel, and may be
compared with the Carleton or Savoy of London. Some
of the above are both caf^s and restaurants, and to these
may be added the caf^s proper, such as the Grand
Caf^, Cardinal, Olacier Napolitain, Mazarin, and de la
Btfgence.

CHAPTER X,

SOME UTEBABT LANDMARKS — HOMES AND HAUNTS OF
CELEBRITIES,

If our pilgrimages were to include the homes and
haunts of Parisian worthies in all walks of life, —
scientists, artists, men of letters, soldiers, diplomatists,
etc., — a whole volume, to say nothing of one chapter,
would scarcely suffice. We must, however, confine our-
selves to the best known or most famous workers in the
field of literature, who have for a long or short period
been domiciled in Paris. In these researches the topo-
graphical order will be most convenient

It MS naturally on the left bank of the Seine, rather
than in the modem quarters of the Champs ^lys^es and '
the grand boulevards, that the literary pilgrims to the
homes of illustrious Parisians will find the most con-
genial and most prolific hunting-ground. We will
begin our wanderings, then, in the University Quarter,
starting from the Quai Voltaire.

Number 27 is one of the most memorable houses in
Paris. Here Voltaire died on May 80, 1778. He had
lived here, however, but a short time, and two other
houses in Paris, where he lived several years, are more
popularly connected with one of the greatest person-
alities of the eighteenth century, 25 Rue Molidre and
2 Bue St Louis en I'De. Voltaire came to No. 27, the

SOME LITERARY LANDMARKS. 209

hdtel of the Marquis de Yillette, from Femey, on Feb-
mary 6, 1778 ; and daring the next few weeks he used
to receive a constant stream of callers, including almost
every famous name in art and literature. The host,
dressed in his usual costume of dressing-gown and
nightcap, used to say a few words to each of his guests.
** On one occasion," writes the author of " Memorable
Paris Houses," ^^ he was speaking in terms of high com-
mendation of a literary colleague, when a bystander
remarked that such sentiments were the more creditable
to him, as the person in question had attacked him
violently in a recent work. * Ah, well,' coolly answered
Voltaire, who had hitherto been unaware of the fact,
^it is quite possible that neither he nor I meant pre-
cisely what we said.' "

It is supposed that the excitement caused by these
constant receptions, coupled with the anxiety connected
with his play of ^' Irdne," produced at that time, acceler-
ated Voltaire's death. It is interesting to note that, out
of respect to the memory of its famous tenant, the apart-
ment in which Voltaire died was kept unoccupied for
forty-seven years. The Quai Voltaire is full of the
memory of those who made their mark, not only in liter-
ature and art, but in science and in the service of the
state. Among the houses thus rendered illustrious are
No. 1, where Marshal Bugeaud, the victor of Abdel
Eader, lived ; No. 9, for some years the residence of
Baron Denon ; No. 11, the home of Ingres; and No. 18,
where Eugene Delacroix, Jacques Pradier, the sculptor,
Corot, and Horace Vemet, have each at different times
resided. But a bare mention of these names must
suffice, or this chapter might easily be elaborated into

210 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

a volume. We are now only concerned with the purely
literary landmarks of Paris.

Alfred de Musset lived for some years in the forties
at 28 Quai Voltaire, but the poef s name is more closely
associated with his house in the Rue du Mont Thabor
(see below).

At No. 19, in the Rue de Lille (at the back of the
Quai Voltaire), Jules Sandeau lived for several years,
till his appointment as librarian of St Cloud. It was
George Sand who encouraged Sandeau to enter upon
the pursuit of literature. The liaison between the
famous apostle of the Idealists and her disciple is well
known. A curious and rather sad story is told of a
chance meeting of the former lovers after Sandeau had
married and grown old. One evening, hurriedly enter-
ing the office of the JRevue des Deux Mondesy he ran
against a stout lady with a sallow complexion, who was
leaving the office. ^^ Pardon, madame," exclaimed San-
deau, and passed on to his chair. When he was seated
he casually asked a friend who the lady was. ^< What,
do y<m ask ? " was the reply. ^ That is G^rge Sand."
The authors of ^' Rose et Blanche " had met face to face
without recognising each other !

In the Rue de rUniversit^, which runs parallel with
the Rue de Lille, Talma lived in 1804 (No. 14), and
No. 25 was for a short time the hdtel of the Vicomte de
Chateaubriand (see below), while No. 101 was for many
years the headquarters of Eustace Grenville Murray,
author of "The Member for Paris."

The extraordinary influence of Chateaubriand on the
literary life and thought of the nineteenth century is
hardly realised. "Lamartine borrowed from him

SOME LITEBABT LANDMABK8. 211

enmdy melancholy, vagueness of souL Alfred de Vigny
owes to him the note of pessimism; Victor Hugo,
picturesque description, the epic sense, the use of histor-
ical erudition ; De Musset, the refinements of a dandified
boredom. All the novelists of passion, such as George
Sand, Sainte-Beuve, Flaubert; all the neo-Catholics,
Lamennais, Lacordaire, Montalembert, to wit ; historians
like Thierry, Michelet, even Benan, resemble him on
some side, and usually this is the description of nature
which they have introduced into their romances, their
philosophy, their narratives of travel, their erudite
researches, or their historical works." ^

The long and narrow street known as the Bue du Bac,
running south from the Pont Royal at the Tuileries,
which appears little more than an alley on the map,
takes high rank with tlie literary pilgrim. At 120
Chateaubriand lived for ten years till his death in 1848.
Chateaubriand was fond of this part of Paris, and at
different times after his banishment lived in Bue d'Enfer,
Bue de I'Universit^, and Bue St. Dominique. The stories
told of his amiable eccentricities are to be found in many
memoirs of the time. Once, when Victor Hugo was
calling upon him, after reciting a scene from his tragedy,
<«Moi8e," to the poet, he ordered his valet to prepare his
bath, and deliberately stripped and took his bath in the
presence of his amused guest.

It was in the same house that Madame Mohl lived
from 1888, and here she held her famous salon. At
their informal Friday evenings might be met Thiers, Pros-
per M^rim^e, Cousin, Ouizot, Ampdre, De Tocqueville,
Benjamin Constant, and many other well-known men.
^Andr^LeboD.

212 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUB.

The salon of Madame Mohl was a worthy successor
to that of Madame R^camier, which was one of the
literary glories of the First Empire, and may be con-
sidered the last of the great salons of Paris.

But not only famous Parisians, but literary celebrities
from all capitals of Europe, were accustomed to pay their
respects to Madame Mohl. Of English authors, Thack-
eray, Mrs. Gaskell, Dean Stanley, and Oeorge Eliot were
frequently guests here. In fact, Mrs. Gaskell wrote the
greater part of ^^ Wives and Daughters " in this house.
It was here, too, that the Dean of Westminster first met
his future wife, Lady Augusta Bruce.

The great charm of Madame Mohl's reunions con-
sisted in their informality and freedom from convention-
ality. There was not here the somewhat artificial
atmosphere of fashion of the still more famous salon of
Madame R^camier, who liked to turn her receptions into
a kind of Parisian Vanity Fair. The simplest refresh-
ments were provided, and Madame Mohl not only itoade
the tea herself, but boiled the water in the room. One
of the reception-rooms was set aside for dancing or even
blind man's buff and other games.

It was the custom at these amusing households for
intimate friends to take a nap in company with their
host and hostess after dinner. In <^ A Paris Salon " an
amusing account is given of one of these diners inttmes
which used to precede the usual Friday evening recep-
tion. <^The gentiemen made themselves comfortable
in armchairs, Madame Mohl slipped off her shoes and
curled herself up on the sofa, and, by and bye, they all
woke up refreshed and ready to talk till midnight
Usually other visitors did not arrive till tlie forty winks

SOME LITEBABT LANDMARKS. 213

were over, but one evening it chanced that some one
came earlier than usual, and was ushered into the draw-
ing-room while the party was fast asleep. The tableau
may be imagined. The gentlemen started up and
rubbed their eyes; the hostess fumbled for her shoes,
but could not find them, and, afraid of catching cold
by walking on the oaken floor, hopped from chair to
chair looking for them."

Madame Mohl (then Mary Clark) was married to
Julius Mohl, the famous bibliophile, who lived in another
literary street close by, 52 Rue de Orenelle, and in the
same house as the explorer Ampere. An amusing inci-
dent is told in connection with this marriage. M. Mohl
wrote the previous evening to his friend Prosper M^ri-
m^e, asking him to be one of his tSmoins (a word
applied equally to a second in a duel and a groomsman).
Next morning M^rim^e walked into his friend's room in
an excited state, wishing to know ^ whom in the name
of goodness are you going to fight ! "

Madame Mohl died in 1882, at the age of ninety.
Like many nonagenarians, she was rather sensitive on
the subject of her age, and shortly before her death she
was highly incensed with the veteran statesman, Thiers,
who, meeting her at the house of a friend, casually
referred to their not having met for forty years. No
sooner had he taken his leave than she observed to
her hostess : ^^ The old fool is off his head. He doesn't
know what he is talking about He has made a mistake
of twenty years."

There are several other memorable houses in this
street. At No. 44 the famous orator and statesman,
the Comte de Montalembert, lived. A very sympa-

214 PARIB IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

tfaetic life of this high-principled statesman, the cham-
pion of the Catholic Liberals, has been written by
Mrs. Oliphant Montalembert, like many other political
writers under the Second Empire, had the courage of
his opinions, and was actually condemned to six months'
imprisonment for having written an article praising
English institutions ; but it is only fair to Napoleon III.
to state that he instantly annulled the sentence.

Number 108 bis was formerly the residence of the emi-
nent astronomer, Laplace, indicated by one of the com-
memorative tablets with which the Paris municipality is
careful to mark the houses of their famous citizens:
<< Laplace, mathematician and astronomer, bom 23d
March, 1749, died in this house, 5th March, 1827/'

The house where the notorious Fouchj lived. No. 20
in the same street, is not, it need hardly be said,
marked by one of these tablets. The former minister
of police under the Empire, who is best known to us as
the author of the cynical epigram, << (Test pire d^un crime
— if est une erreur^^ owed his fortunes to Napoleon I.,
but was one of the first to turn against his patron, and,
like Talleyrand, had a remarkable talent for placing
himself on the winning side. He was accused by Napo-
leon, at St Helena, of appropriating a large portion of
the tax upon gambling-houses, which the emperor had
meant to devote to the foundation of a new hospital for
the poor.

In the Rue St Dominique lived the chemist, Jean
Baptiste Dumas, who is perhaps best remembered by
literary people as the subject of a clever witticism by his
famous namesake, Alexandre Dumas. The latter used
to describe himself ironically as Dumas rignorant to

SOME UTEBABT LANDMABK8. 215

distingaiBh himself from his namesake, who was known
as Dumas le savant.

No. 16 Rue de Sdvres is the shrine of all lovers of
literatxire. Here Madame B^camier lived and held her
famous salons. Her salon, without any overt idea of
rivalry, as a kind of rallying point of literary Paris, may
be compared with the more cosmopolitan and even more
celebrated salon of Madame de Stael. Madame B^ca-
mier's could not, however, be said to have formed a school
of political opinion, nor did she give any abiding impulse
to literature. But if Madame de Stael influenced Lamar-
tine, Ouizot, and De Tocqueville, Madame B^camier, on
the other hand, inspired some of Chateaubriand's best
works.

The quaintly named Bue du Dragon connects the Bue
de Sdvres with the Boulevard St Germain. No. 80
was from 1821 to 1829 the abode of Victor Hugo, where
he came to live after the death of his mother. At this
time Victor Hugo was in very straitened circumstances,
and, in fact, he lived for a whole year on his little cap-
ital of JC28, for he had refused assistance from his
father, as it was coupled with the condition that he
should resign his literary pursuits. He started house-
keeping with a young man distantly related to him, in
a garret at No. 80. This was divided into two com-
partments. One was called the salon, in which the one
decorative feature was a handsome marble chimney-
piece. The other compartment was merely a narrow
alcove, in which there was scarcely room for the two
beds. With the usual sublime courage of genius, his
narrow circumstances did not prevent his marrying,
and, on receipt of ^£28 for his ^ Odes et Ballades,''

216 PARI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

he promptly espoused a certain Mile. Addle Foucher,
and characteristically spent the whole of the proceeds
on a cashmere shawl for his bride's trousseau !

It is interesting to trace the various homes of the
famous poet, who in the course of his long life changed
his residence no fewer than six times.

In 1829 he went to live in Rue de Notre Dame des
Champs, though the house cannot be positively identi-
fied. Here he began ^^ Notre Dame." But he had to
change his quarters, because — so writes the author
of "Memorable Paris Houses" — his propriStaire ob-
jected to the constant influx of visitors day and night,
and urged that she had bought the house for the sake of
quietness. Victor Hugo then crossed the river and lived
at 9 Rue Jean-Goujon, and here "Notre Dame" was
finished by continuous application. "Hugo bought a
bottle of ink and a thick gray worsted dressing-gown
which enveloped him from the neck to the heels. He
locked up his collar in order not to be tempted to go
out, and set to work at his novel as if in prison. From
that time he never left the writing-table except to eat
and sleep ; his only amusement was an hour's chat after
dinner with some friends who would call. He exhausted
the bottle of ink on the day the book was finished, and
thought of adopting the title of <The Contents of a
Bottle of Ink,' — a title afterward used with his consent
by Alphonse Karr."

In 1851 Hugo moved to No. 6 Place Royale (now Place
des Yosges), in the house which Marion de Lorme had
occupied some two hundred years before. Another fa-
mous occupant was the great tragedian, Madame Rachel,
who died in 1858.

SOME LITERARY LANDMARKS. 217

The great romancer lived here till 1848. In 1849
he lived for a few months at No. 57 Rue de la Tour
d'Auvergne, shortly before he left Paris as an exile, not
to return for twenty years. On his return from his
period of expatriation, spent mostly in Guernsey, Victor
Hugo took up his residence at No. 21 Rue de Glichy.
It is said that he was driven from this house by the
flattering but annoying persecution of his admirers, who
were continually invading his privacy, and he was re-
duced to stratagems and shifts somewhat similar to those
by which Tennyson and Ruskin used to protect them-
selves from the continual mobbing by hero-worshippers
and curious tourists. Consequently, he moved to a more
retired part of Paris, the Avenue Eylau (since called in
his honour Avenue Victor Hugo), and here at the house
No. 124 he died, as the tablet over the front door records,
on May 22, 1885.

It was in this historic house that Hugo wrote one of
his finest epics, << La L^gende des Sidcles.'' The mon-
umental character of this poem is well expressed by its
title. It is a series of splendid symbolical pictures, in
which the poet's grand humanitarian philosophy, his
religious faith, coupled with his bitter hatred of kings
and priests, and his devotion to the cause of the poor
and suffering, are summed up.

Victor Hugo, no doubt, has inspired the strongest feel-
ing of hatred from his political and literary adversaries,
as well as the most unreasoning hero-worship from his
ftdinircrs. Dc; Tocj^iueville, for instance, wrote the fol-
lowing caustic and (Epigrammatic criticism on Victor
-^^^ aa one of the chief apostles of the romantic
thoroughly out of sympathy with the philo-

218 PABIB IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Bophical and scientific school of historians, of which De
Tocqueville was the great exponent : << Roussean begat
Bemardin de St. Pierre, who begat Chateaubriand, who
begat Victor Hugo, who, being tempted of the devil, is
begetting every day."

The esteem in which Victor Hugo was held by the
populace was universal. At the time of his death he
was the idol of Paris, and his public funeral was an
apotheosis.

"Victor Hugo," says a sound French critic, "filled
the nineteenth century with his personality and writings,
just as Voltaire did the eighteenth. On literature his
influence was enormous, as he gave romanticism a
formula and traced out the path it was to follow, while
enriching the imagination and the language of his con-
temporaries."

Number 1 in the Place du GoUdge de France has a
twofold interest, as it was the home of the brilliant
painter and devoted patriot, Henri Begnault, and of the
famous historian and critic, Ernest Benan, who lived
here when professor at the Golldge de France. The
charming and amiable character of this genial savant is
well illustrated in his " Lettres Intimes," and in the de-
lightful study of his life which has recently been pub-
lished. Even in his critical essays, the personal charm
of his character can be read within the lines, and the
believers in a revealed religion have never had so broad-
minded and liberal an opponent.

"Renan has been very badly judged," observes M.
Andrj Lebon, " but the world has came to a better un-
derstanding of him since the publication of his letters.
The public in general is not very accessible to elevated

SOME LITEBABT LANDMABKB. 219

and rather abatract ideas, and it saw in Benan only a
skeptical dilettante who applied himself with ineffable
grace and a dazzling wealth of imagination and beauty
of style to juggling with the most formidable problem
and the emptiest futilities. Benan has made it impos-
sible for men, whom revelation does not satisfy, to
believe, but h$ has also made wars of religion equally
impossible. Practically, he has taught that the end of
thought should be the search for truth which excludes
all miracles, while the object of the will should be good
which excludes egotism." This, in a nutshell, is the
teaching of this great thinker.

As a master of style France has produced no writer
to compare with Benan since Chateaubriand. By the
magic of his pen he can present an attractive and
living picture of obscure and unfamiliar epochs, which,
handled by an ordinary writer, would be a dry col-
lection of archaeological and historical facts. '^ His
descriptions of scenes and personages are marvellous,
and his style, though eminently picturesque, is simple
and interfused with a singularly delicate artistic per-
ceptiveness."

Benan's fame as an orator is of course well known.
He was, indeed, the representative speaker of the French
Academy, but as a conversationalist he was perhaps
happier. The charm of his conversation seemed inten-
sified by contrast with his singularly ungraceful presence
and gait, ^ which reminded the spectator of a hippopot-
amus, or, to put it mildly, of a bear."

An amusing story is told of this genial philosopher,
which illustrates his natural courtesy and imperturbable
self-command. At a certain dinner-party, while Pro-

220 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

fesBor Garo, author of <* Pessimism in the Nineteenth
Century, " was holding forth at some length to prove the
existence of a deity, he was about to speak, when he was
checked by the hostess with " We will hear you presently,
M. Benan." When the rhetorician had finished, and
Benan was blandly invited to express his views, he replied
that he feared he was a little behindhand, as he had only
meant to ask for a potato !

The Rue Bollin, a small street not easily found,
leading off the Rue Monge, is of course named after
the historian who lived at No. 8, now the School of Ste.
Genevidve. But it is associated with a far greater
name, Blaise Pascal, who died on August 19, 1662,
at the h6tel which stood on the site of the present house
numbered 2. There is a curious history attached to the
work by which Pascal (pronounced by Bayle to have
been <^one of the sublimest geniuses whom the world
has ever produced '') is best known, the famous ^< Pens^es
sur la Beligion." It was written on innumerable stray
pieces of paper, many containing but a single sentence.
They were not written with any idea of publication, but
for the writer's own use, and were found on his death
filed on bits of string without any order or connection.
They were not pieced together and given to the world
till seventeen years after the author's death.

The Bue Jacob, the continuation of the Bue de I'Uni-
versit^, though one of the shortest and least important
streets of Paris, is full of historic associations in addi-
tion to its purely literary interest At No. 12 lived the
extraordinary Prussian baron who abjured his rank,
tities, and family name to become, as Anacharsis Clootz,
one of the most violent fanatics of the Bevolution. No.

aOME LITESABT LANDMARKS. 221

62 was the residence of the advocate who defended
Marie Antoinette.

At No. 16 lived Henri Gr^goire, Bbhop of Blois, one
of the ^^ constitutional bishops/' and a member of the
National Convention who voted for the death of Lonis
XYI. Another notable person who lived in this street
was Pierre Pelletier, the chemist, who first recognised
the valuable medicinal properties of quinine. But the
chief literary interest of the Rue Jacob centres around
No. 18, for many years the residence of the novelist
Prosper M^rim^e. He is chiefly remembered as a kind
of literary advisor to Napoleon III. and the Empress
Eugenie. It is supposed that he acted as the emperor's
"ghost" in the production of "The Life of Caesar,"
Napoleon's principal literary work.

Number 46 was formerly the hdtel of Madame de
Rambouillet and is of special interest to English visitors,
as Laurence Sterne stayed here on one of his visits to
Paris, as recorded in " A Sentimental Journey."

The district between the Luxembourg and the Boule-
vard Montpamasse seems to have been a favourite
haunt of men of letters. At No. 28 Rue Cassette, the
critic and historian, H. A. Taine, lived for many years.
In the Rue du Montpamasse lived the historians Edgar
Quinet and Augustin Thierry, and the famous critic
Sainte-Beuve. The latter's residence (No. 11) is
marked by a commemorative tablet

Number 108 Rue d'Assas (formerly Rue de I'Ouest)
was the home of Littr^ when he was engaged on his
monumental work, the " Dictionnaire de la Langue Fran-
9aise." As might be supposed from the nature of a task
which demanded the closest application, Littr^'s daily

222 PAma in its bplkndoub.

routine was most carefully systematised. He usually
wrote for fifteen or sixteen hours a day while working at
his oolossal dictionary, which occupied him from 1862 to
1872. It is not surprising that this want of exercise
and neglect of all laws of health undermined his consti-
tution, and it is no exaggeration to say that his dictionary
killed him. During the Commune the manuscript of his
invaluable book was in imminent danger of being des-
troyed during the suppression of the Commune by the
Versailles troops. A detachment of the insurgents took
possession of the lexicographer's house, and held it
for three days against the government troops. Before
retiring from their improvised fortress they set it on
fire, but the fire was fortunately arrested by the timely
arrival of the pompiers. ^^ Hither came his publisher,
M. Hachette, to find to his consternation the precious
<copy' lying in piles in the immediate vicinity of the
fireplace, and hence, at the urgent entreaty of that
gentleman, he despatched eight chests of white wood,
each containing 2,400 manuscript pages of his dictionary,
to his country-house at Mesnil." ^

At No. 76 a tablet informs the passer-by that Jules
Michelet, the historian, ^ bom at Paris, August 22, 1798,
died at Hydres (Var), February 9, 1874, lived here."
As a historian Michelet does not rank high with scholars,
but he certainly was one of the most popular ; his pictur-
esque treatment and the animation of his style, which
^ glows as with fire from Vulcan's forge,'' make him as
readable as Macaulay.

The short street^ Rue Racine, leading from the Boule-
vard St Michel to the OdJon Theatre, is memorable
1 ** Memorable ParU Hoiuns.**

SOME LITEBABT LANDMABK8. 223

on account of its association with Qeorge Sand, who
lived for some years at No. 8, on the fourth story, in a
large room like a stadio. De Goncourt describes a visit
he once made here to the famous author of << Gonsnelo.''
It was a dull day, and his hostess was scarcely distin-
guishable in the gloom, which was relieved by a solitary
candle, at which she occasionally lighted a cigarette. De
Goncourt was struck by her ^ shapely, softly moulded,
quiet figure, and features with a delicate chiselling,"
which the portraits of the day failed to present, but hits
off rather humourously her automatic movements, which
contrasted curiously with her monotonous speech and her
<< calf-like, ruminant attitude."

Dickens, who met George Sand in 1866, was still less
flattering in his impressions. ^ Just the kind of woman
in appearance whom you might suppose to be the queen's
monthly nurse. Chubby, matronly, swarthy, black-eyed.
Nothing of the blue-stocking about her, except a little
final way of settling all your opinions with hers."

At No. 10 Rue Monsieur-le-Prince, which is intersected
by the Rue Racine, the famous apostle of the poeitivists,
Auguste Comte, spent the last years of his life, and in
this house he wrote the << Positive Polity." The apart-
ments he occupied are kept in the same condition as they
were at Gomte's death in 1857, and even the philoso-
pher's old clothes are religiously preserved in one of the
cupboards. Sir Erskine Parry has written in the Nme-
teenth Century a lively account of a visit paid to Gomte
in 1853. He describes the founder of the poeitivists as
<<a smallish, stooping man, in long, dark, tweed-lined
dressing-gown, much bloodshot in one eye, a healthy
rose tint, short black hair, small Celtic features, forehead

224 PARia IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

unremarkable, agreeable physiognomy/' Gomte's views
of the value of periodical literature seem somewhat
paradoxical. ^^ I never read," he observed to his visitor.
<< Beading interrupts thinking. It is necessary to begin
with reading, but I have given it up, and don't even read
scientific works. Fifteen years ago I gave up reading
newspapers, as I found it very injurious."

The essentially popular painter, Dor^, — for though art
critics may belittle him as a mere dioramic painter, there
can be no question of his vogue with the public:
between 1850 and 1870 he is said to have received nearly
£280,000 from the sale of his pictures, — painted some
of his best known works in the studio of No. 22 of this
street The studio itself is of great literary and artistic
interest, as it was some three hundred years before Dora's
tenancy occupied by the great Renaissance sculptor, Jean
Ooujon.

Before leaving the Quartier Latin, the famous Gaf^
Procope, in the Bue de P Ancienne Com^die, still a resort
of literary men and journalists, should be visited by all
who are interested in what might be called literary
topography. This caf4 is said to be the actual cafj
frequented by Voltaire during thf rehearsals of his play,
*^ Irdne," at the Gom^die Fran^aise, and though it is per-
haps open to question whether the present caf 6 is the
identical one opened by Francois Procope in 1687, very
probably a considerable portion of the old fabric has
been incorporated in the present building. Innumer-
able are the traditions and memories of the caf6, which
was a favourite house of call of Jean Jacques Bousseau
and Voltaire, of Diderot, Danton, and Marat, — the game
of chess at which Danton defeated Marat has become

SOME LITEBABT LANDMABES. 225

historical. Napoleon, when waiting for employment in
the first years of the Republic, occasionally visited this
caf6, and there is a story of his being compelled one day
to leave his hat in pledge, credit having been denied
him! Many interesting relics of its famous guests
have been preserved, among them the central table, at
which Voltaire used to sit.

The Quartier Latin and the south side of the Seine
is naturally richer in historic and literary associations
than the comparatively modem residential quarters
north of the river. Still, many interesting haunts of
men of letters are to be found in this part of Paris.

There is a small retired street, called the Rue du
Mont Thabor, running parallel to the Rue de Rivoli,
which no literary pilgrim can afford to leave unvisited.
No. 6 was the dwelling-place of Alfred de Musset, who
has been rather absurdly termed the French Byron, when
he was at the height of his fame as a dramatist, and here,
as a mural tablet informs us, he died (May 2, 1857).

The Rue du Mont Thabor naturally calls up memories
of the Crusades, but it is not a very old street It is
named after one of the principal battles in Napoleon's
Syrian campaign.

De Musset has been called the last of the poets of the
romantic school, though some would give the titie to
Victor Hugo. It is, however, difficult to classify De
Musset precisely, though he owed something, no doubt,
to the romantic reaction, and was for a short time a
disciple of Victor Hugo and directed the influence of
romanticism into new channels. At all events, no one
will dispute his claim to be one of the greatest lyric
poets of the nineteenth century.

226 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Paul de Musset has feelingly described the last
moments of his gifted brother. <<We were talking
peacefully together at one o'clock in the morning, when
I saw him suddenly sit up in bed, his right hand on his
breast, seeking the place of his heart, as though he had
felt some extraordinary trouble at that organ. His face
took a strange expression of astonishment and attention.
I asked him if he were in pain. He made a sign in the
negative. To my other questions he only replied by
these words, again placing his head on the pillow, < To
sleep ! at last I am going to sleep ! ' With these words
he closed his eyes for the last time, a superhuman beauty
spreading over his features, as if all the great thoughts
to which his genius had given imperishable form had
returned to make for him an aureole."

Next door (No. 4) to the house consecrated to the
memories of the melancholy genius of the author of
<< Les Nuits,'' the famous American author, Washington
Irving, lived for some months in 1821, soon after the
publication of «'The Sketch Book."

The Rue de Rivoli, one of the best known and most
important streets in Paris, contains only one house which
need arrest the researcher into the literary haunts of
Paris. This is No. 204, where Louis Blanc, the famous
historian of the Second Republic, spent the last years of
his life. His appearance was striking, in spite of his dimin-
utive stature, — he was barely five feet in height, — with
his massive head and scholarly expression. He was for
some time proprietor as well as editor of the socialist
journal, L^ Homme LibrCj and he carried his literary con-
scientiousness and scrupulous regard for the veracity
of every statement in his journal even to the advertise-

80ME LITEBABT LANDMASKS. 227

ment department An amuBing instance of this punctil-
iousness — somewhat unusual in a newspaper proprietor
— is quoted bj a contemporary of Louis Blanc. He
had refused to accept a certain cough mixture adver-
tisement unless the agent who gave the order would
personally vouch for its efficiency. The latter naturally
protested that he ^< could scarcely be expected to run
the risk of bronchitis in order to test it on myself."
Blanc admitted the reasonableness of his reluctance
to serve as a carptAS vUe^ but still declined to insert the
advertisement iSH he could bring some one who had
actually been cured by the medicine.

Louis Blanc is best known by his ^^Histoire de Dix
Ans" (1830-1840), which has been called ''not a
history, but an indictment against Louis Philippe."
Implicated in the revolutionary rising in May, 1848,
he was exiled, and did not return to Paris till the fall
of the Second Empire.

Number 2 Bue Jean Jacques Bousseau is noteworthy as
the birthplace of the famous author of the '' Confessions.''
At No. 8 in the same street is a very old house (said to
date from 1680), where the great tragedian Talma lived
in 1787, the year of his first appearance at the ComJdie
Fran9aise.

^ The Bue Bichelieu is a street which should prove
specially attractive to those who like to follow in tiie
footsteps of celebrated Parisians. Among those who
have lived here are Molidre, Saint-Simon, Diderot,
Madame Malibran, Meyerbeer, and Berlioz.

A commemorative tablet marks No. 40, the site of the
house (for the actual house has long been pulled down)
in which Molidre died. As is well known, he died in the

228 PAEI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

actual costume in which, but a few hours before, he had
acted his part in the <^ Malade Imaginaire." This house
was afterward tenanted by the great socialist philoso-
pher, Saint-Simon. All his life, the founder of the
Simonist sect was crippled by his crushing poverty.
An extract from one of his letters illustrates very
forcibly his wretched condition, which finds a parallel
in that of the ill-starred poet, Chatterton. << Be my
saviour,'' he writes to a friend, asking for a loan toward
publishing one of his books. <^ I am dying of starvation.
For fifteen days I eat only bread and drink only water.
I write without a fire, and have sold everything save my
garments to cover the expense of the copies."

A few years later, finding himself actually on the
brink of starvation, he determined to end it all by sui-
cide. The circumstances of this attempt on his life
recall those of the attempted suicide of Clive in India.
^ Having loaded a pistol, he decided to shoot himself
when the hands of his watch pointed to a certain hour.
In order, however, that his mind might be in perfect
serenity to the end, and that the triumph over supersti-
tion might be complete, he occupied the interval in
reviewing the schemes of social reform, to which he
had devoted his life. At length the appointed hour
arrived; he fired at himself, but the only result was
a severe wound in the face; he sought for assistance,
but could find none, so he sat down before his bed and
awaited the result with tranquillity. In this condition
he was found by Comte and Serbardidre, of whom he
at once inquired, with philosophic composure, < how long
it was possible for a man to think with seven slugs in
his brain ? ' But his friends applied themselves to the

SOME LITERARY LANDMARKS, 229

relief of his wound before they would satisfy his curios-
ity. For some time it was doubtful whether he would
live, and as his pains were intense, he b^ged that a vein
might be opened to end them. In a few weeks, however,
except for the loss of one of his eyes, he had entirely
recovered." ^

Continuing our researches eastward, in the Temple
district there can be traced several houses associated
with French literature.

At No. 8 in the Boulevard St Martin the prolific
novelist, Paul de Eock, wrote most of his novels, having
lived here over thirty years. The literary output of the
<< Smollett of France," as Count d'Orsay called him, was
enormous, owing to the extraordinary rapidity of his
workmanship. It is said that some of his best novels
were written in less than a month.

In the Bue du Faubourg Montmartre is the last resi-
dence in Paris of Alphonse Earr, who lived at No. 7 from
1845 to 1848, and here he wrote his most celebrated
work, " Mon Voyage autour de mon Jardin." His well
known eccentricities have served for pegs for innumerable
anecdotes more or less veracious. He was completely
regardless of outward appearances, and despised the
usual conventions of society as much as the most typical
Bohemians of the Quartier Latin. He used to receive
his friends in a room in which the walls were draped
with black, and in a dress which was supposed to be
modelled on that of a Chinese mandarin. A tame hyena
at one time was a household pet, but owing to the natural
reluctance of the printer's devils to beard the author in
what was too literally a den, owing to the presence of
1 ** Saint-Simon and SimoniBm."

230 PABI8 IN IT8 SPLENDOUR.

this animal fitoee^ it had to be disposed of, and was
replaced by a huge Newfoundland dog.

The Bue du Faubourg Poissonnidre is prolific in literary
associations. At No. 155 (formerly 101) Emile Sou-
vestre liTcd for eighteen years, No. 65 was the home of
Heine (see below) for a short time before his death, and at
No. 25, the Conservatoire de Musique, Cherubini lived as
Director from 1824 to his death in 1842. A whimsical
incident is told of the composer's last illness which
illustrates how strong was the ruling passion — in his
case a love of order which amounted almost to a mono-
mania — in death. When he was almost in eatremi$
he asked for a handkerchief. As it did not happen to
be the right one — they were all numbered and used in
consecutive order — he refused it, and insisted on one
numbered 7 being given to him, as he had used last the
one numbered 6.

The Bue de B^ranger, close to the Place de la Bepub-
lique, which was formerly called the Bue Yenddme, had
its title changed in honour of B^ranger, who died at a
house (No. 5) in this street, and here his last poems
and ballads were composed. The house, with its hand-
some Benaissance gateway, is a picturesque feature in
this rather ordinary-looking street. A memorial tablet
states that B^ranger <<died in this house, July 16,
1857." He was honoured with a public funeral at the
cost of the state. Mr. Y andam, in his book, <^ An Eng-
lishman in Paris," observes that Stranger might have
sat to Hablot E. Browne for his picture of Tom Pinch
in Dickens's << Martin Ohuzdewit," so striking is the
resemblance.

Betracing our steps, westward, we shall find many

80MS LITEBABT LANDMARKS. 231

houses of literary interest in and around the historio
street, the Rue du Faubourg St. Honor^.

In the Bue Boyale ^ is a house which is of universal
interest as having once been the residence of Madame de
Stael. It was in this house that the author of << Corinne "
held her famous salons, perhaps the most cosmopolitan
of all these famous reunions which were so characteristic
a feature of Paris society from the First Republic down
to the fall of the Second Empire, when the salon qua
salon may be said to have ceased to exist At Madame
de Stael's receptions might have been seen representatives
of all nationalities: Lafayette and Guizot, Wellington
and Chateaubriand ; from Berlin, Baron Humboldt and
Bliicher; from Switzerland, Sismondi, and Benjamin
Constant ; from Hanover, the two Schlegels, etc., while
the English, we are told, <^ attended her with such zeal,
that it seemed as if a general emigration of British rank
and talent had taken place.''

Some authorities assert that Madame de StaSl died
in this house, but according to Lady Blennerhassefs
Memoirs, she had removed to a house (now demolished)
in the Rue Neuve des Mathurins shortly before her
death.

Number 45 was the residence of Adolphe Thiers after
leaving the Palais d'l^ys^e, in 1874. As a historian
his reputation is a little discounted among scholars on
account of his anti-republican bias ; and his monumental
History of the Revolution, the Consulate, and the Empire
is considered by severe critics rather as an example of

1 This street and the Bne Mondeur-le-Prince are the only important
streets in Paris which have been allowed to retain their rpyal i
dature.

234 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

o'clock one morning, calmly strolling up and down tiie
street in which he lived, and explained the circum*
stance by the fact that the sun did not rise till 8.40
A. M., for between sunset and sunrise he was free from
arrest.

There is a certain resemblance between the character
of Balzac and that of another famous novelist, Alexandre
Dumas, whose instincts and tastes were equally Bohemian.
The author of ^ Monte Cristo " lived also in the Champs
^ys^es quarter for some years, at No. 120 Avenue
Wagram. Dumas, though decidedly a more widely read
and more popular writer, had not the undeniable
genius of Balzac, and even ^^ Monte Cristo '' hardly stands
on the same artistic level as ^^La Peau de Chagrin."
Judged by the number of volumes credited to Dumas, —
over one thousand, — he must have been one of the most
prolific authors that any age or country has produced.
It is well known, however, that, as in the case of many
of the old masters, a great deal of the actual composi-
tion was done by others. Dumas employed a kind of
staff of literary assistants, and was content himself
with general supervision and the addition of finishing
touches. Though Dumas was paid what was consid-
ered then very large sums for his novels, varying from
fourpence to sevenpence per line of sixty letters, he
was perpetually in debt, for he was as prodigal in his
expenditure as Eugdne Sue or Balzac. His embarrass-
ments compelled him to have constant resource to bills,
promissory notes, and other devices. It seems he had
no illusion as to tiie value of these bills which he con-
stantly signed, and once, when a creditor brought him a
bill to sign with a sixpenny stamp attached to it, Dumas

SOME LITEBABT LANDMARKS. 235

obeenred, with alarming candour, ^^ You see this bill is
worth sixpence; now" (as he signed his name over
tiie stamp) ^ it is worth nothing ! "

The Bue St Georges should not be omitted in the
hero-worshipper's peregrinations, for here lived the
brothers De Goncourt (No. 45), M. and Madame de
Girardin (No. 11), Henri Murger (No. 19), and Fran-
cois Aaber (No. 24). The birthplace of the erratic, but
amiable, author of ^^ La Yie de BohSme " evokes melan*
choly recollections of this apostle of Bohemianism, who
died at the age of thirty-four. <^ A simple, sad life, mis-
taken in its aims, bankrupt in its aspirations, ruined by
its follies," — such is his epitaph as penned by Sir
Walter Besant

In this survey of the houses of celebrated men of
letters we have but touched the surface, though our
selection includes many of the most famous men in the
world of literature. How rich a field remains to be
tilled by the indefatigable hero-worshipper may be
gathered from the names of the following eminent
personages whom Paris has produced, or at all events
acted toward as a foster mother: Edmond About,
Marie Bashkirtseff, Bemardin de St Pierre, Benjamin
Constant, Diderot, ^mile Gaboriau, Ledru Bollin,
Eugdne Scribe, Eugdne Sue, Alexis de Tocqueville, Ivan
Turgeneff, and Alfred de Yigny. In fact, Mr. Wilmot
Harrison, who devoted many months to searching out
the haunts of famous Parisians, has discovered as many
memorable houses as there are days in tiie year, and no
one who is interested in this subject can afford to do
without Mr. Harrison's exhaustive monograph.

The enthusiasm of tiie true hero-worshipper gifted

236 PABI8 IN IT8 aPLENDOUB.

with a fervent imagination will, perhaps, be a little
dampened by the fact that some of the so-called historic
houses where literary notabilities have lived (even
thoo^ duly adorned with a commemorative tablet) are
not the actual houses. Many were pulled down during
the rebuilding and transformation of Paris in the
sixties, but the sites are no doubt authentic.

CHAPTER XL

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABIS.

The early history of the Paris stage is virtaally
summed up in that of the Th^fttres de la Com^die Fran-
faisy Od^on, and Op^ra Comique. The word comedy is
a little misleading in this connection, being convention-
ally used in contradistinction to tragedy, whereas in the
genesis of the drama in France comedy has a more
comprehensive meaning, and is used to denote any
kind of theatrical performance. The actors of the
Th^fttre Fran^ais were known as << Comedians of the
King," while in our country those belonging to the two
patent theatres are proud of a somewhat similar title, —
« Her Majesty's Servante."

The English stage, with dramatists like Ben Jonson,
Shakespeare, and Marlowe, may be said to have had
nearly a century's start of the French stage, which made a
beginning with permanent theatre and regular companies
(for wandering troupes of actors were known in France
for centuries before) about the middle of the seventeenth
century, with Comeille, Molidre, and Racine, the greatest
dramatists that France has ever produced. It is popu-
ularly, but erroneously, supposed that nearly all the
famous plays of these great dramatists were originally
produced at the theatre which in 1880 celebrated its
second centenary. This is due to a natural confusion

238 PAnia IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

between the Com6die Franfaise incorporated by royal
charter in 1680, and the theatre in which it has been
installed for about a century, for the present build-
ing dates only from 1782.^ The title, the House of
Molidre, by which journalists are fond of describing the
Com^die Fran^aise, serves to perpetuate this fallacy.

Mr. Sutherland Edwards reminds us that in the early
days of the French stage there was not one theatre, but
three, Comeille, Molidre, and Bacine having each his
separate company. Then it must be remembered that
each of the numerous theatres in which the ^< Comedians
of the King " performed for any length of time was pop-
ularly known as the Com6die Franf aise.

The official charter or constitution of the Com^die
Franf aise, granted by Louis XIY., dates from 1680, when
the companies of the Hdtel de Bourgogne and the Th^
fttre Gu6n£gaud, in the Rue Mazarin, were amalgamated.
The number of actors and actresses in this privileged
theatre, or rather company, was limited to twenty-
seven, and an annual subvention of 12,000 francs was
granted from the royal treasury. Toward the end of
the century the history of the Com^die Fraufaise is
constantly interwoven with that of the Odton Th^fttre
(see below).

Under the Revolution the stage was at first regarded
with much disfavour. In 1792 the Convention solemnly
ordained that all titles of courtesy must be suppressed
on the stage, whatever the play. The result was of
course ludicrous in the extreme. In the case, for in-
stance, of Racine's classical tragedies, Agamenmon has

iBot the ComMie Fran9id8e did not take up its qiuoten here tiU
1709. See description of Odfon Thtttre (below).

DBAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABI8. 239

to address Achilles as Citoyen! This decree was in
keeping with the amusing one quoted by Carljle, which
required that all shop-signs and cffiehe9 which bore the
slightest reference to royalty should be altered, which
resulted in << Royal Bengal Tiger" on a certain shop
being altered to ^< Tigre National/' and that ordered
that church spires should be destroyed as subversive of
the principle of equality !

Napoleon was a constant patron of the Gom^die
Franfaise, and in 1802, soon after the theatre had suc-
cumbed to what seems the inevitable fate of most Paris
theatres sooner or later, — destruction by fire, — he
granted it an extra subsidy of 100,000 francs. The
next year the company was installed in the Th^fttre
Franfais in tl^e Bue Richelieu, dose to the Palais Royal,
where it has since remained undisturbed.

^ As under Louis XIY., so under Napoleon, the Com^-
die Franfaise followed the sovereign to his palatial
residence, wherever it might be; to St Cloud, to
Fontainebleau, to Trianon and Compidgne, to Malmai-
son, and even to Erfurt and Dresden, where Talma is
known to have performed before a ^ pit of kings.' Nor
did Napoleon forget the ComMie Fran^ise when he
was at Moscow, during the temporary occupation and
just before the fatal retreat ; though it may well have
been from a feeling of pride, and desire to show how
capable he was at such a critical moment of occupying
himself with comparatively unimportant things, that be
dated from the Kremlin his celebrated decree regulating
the affairs of the principal theatre in France." ^

The most interesting events in the history of tbe
luQid and New Paris.'*

240 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Com^die FraD9ai8e are connected with the production of
Beaumarchais's ^ Manage de Figaro " in 1784, and Vic-
tor Hugo's '< Hemani " in 18S0.

The former comedy was actually accepted by the
management of the Th^fttre Frangais in October, 1781,
but owing to difficulties with the censor it was not per-
formed in public till two and a half years later. It
had, however, been read frequentiy at salons and in
other semi-public gatherings, and the extraordinary
brilliancy of the play was the talk of all Paris, and
practically assured its success on its public production.

Grimm, in one of his letters to the Grand Duke
of Saze-Gotha, describes the extraordinary enthusiasm
aroused by Beaumarchais : ^< Never did a piece attract
such crowds to the Th^fttre Fran^ais. All Paris wished
to see this famous < Manage,' and the house was
crammed almost the very moment the doors were
opened to the public. Scarcely half of those who had
besieged the doors since eight in the morning succeeded
in finding places. Most persons got in by force or by
throwing money to the porters."

<<0n the stage, when the curtain was raised," says
De Lom6nie, the biographer of Beaumarchais, << there
was seen perhaps the most splendid assemblage of talent
that was ever contained within the walls of the Th6&tre
Fran9ais, employed in promoting the success of a com-
edy which sparkled with wit, which carried the audience
along by its dramatic movement and audacity, and
which, if it shocked or startied some of the private
boxes, excited and enchanted, inflamed and electrified
the pit"

The author was present on this historic first night in

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 241

a private box, supported by two abb^s ! Beaumarchais
somewhat profanely explained the presence of these
divines by stating that he had invited them so that in
case of a failure and his resultant death they might
administer to him den secaurs tris spirtiueU. Their ser-
vices were fortunately not required, for the success of
the <^ Mariage de Figaro " was extraordinary. It had
a run of sixty-eight nights, — almost unprecedented in
those days, — and yielded nearly 850,000 francs, of
which some 40,000 francs went as fees to the author.

Victor Hugo was confronted by equally serious obsta-
cles in getting his dramatic efforts produced. His first
play, <^ Cromwell," was rejected in the most uncompro-
mising manner by the censor, and his next play, ^^ Marion
Delorme," in spite of a personal interview which the
author had with Charles X., was also rejected on political
grounds. His next play, indisputably the finest drama
of all, was indeed accepted by the committee of censor-
ship (for the censorship had been put into commission
by the last of the Bourbon kings), but its acceptance
was coupled with a vindictive and absurdly irrational
rider which made the acceptance almost as mortifying
as an absolute rejection. <<<Hemani' seems to us,"
solemnly declared the sapient censors, <^ a tissue of ab-
surdities to which the author vainly endeavoured to g^ve
a character of elevation, but which are always trivial
and often vulgar. The piece abounds in unbecoming
thoughts of every kind. The king expresses himself
like a bandit, the bandit treats the king like a brigand.
The daughter of a grandee of Spain is a shameless
woman without dignity or modesty. Nevertheless, in
spite of so many capital &ults, we are of opinion that

242 FABI8 IN IT8 SPLENDOUR.

not only would there be nothing injudicious in author-
ising the representation of the piece, but that it would
be wise policy not to cut out a single word. It is well
that the public should see what point of wildness the
human mind may reach when it is freed from all rules
of propriety."

Certainly the first-night audience of Hemani, if not
so fashionable and brilliant^ from a social point of view,
as on that famous first night of the <' Mariage de Figaro,"
was unsurpassed for the number of notable personages
in the world of art and letters. Among them were
Gerard de Nerval, author of the « Voyage en Orient"
Balzac, Hector Berlioz, Alexandre Dumas, and Th^ophile
Gauthier, who wrote a graphic account of this famous
representation.

This performance was important, too, as <^ Hemani "
served as a kind of eheval de bataiUe between the oppos-
ing schools of the romanticists (of whom Victor Hugo
was looked upon as the chief apostle) and the dassicbts.
Consequently, the various telling ** bits " in " Hemani "
were applauded or hissed without much reference to their
literary merit or dramatic importance. Occasionally,
indeed, certain supposed fragments of dialogue or solil-
oquy which were not actually written were vigorously
attacked or defended. Th^ophile Gauthier gives an
amusing instance of this. In the scene where Ruy
Gomez, on the point of marrying Dofla Sol, entrusts her
to Don Carlos, Hernani impatiently exclaims to Gomez,
« VteiUard stupide ! B VaimeP A well-known champion
of the classicists, M. Parseval de Grandmaison, who was
a little deaf, thought Hemani had said, ^VieSL as de
pique! U TcAme,^^ ^Cf^eH trap fort^** groaned M. de

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 243

Grandmaiaon. ^^Cammentf^ replied his neighbour, M.
Lassailly, a devoted romanticiat, who had not heard the
apeech, but only the remonatrance of the claaaicist
^^ I say, air, that it ia not permiaaible to call a venerable
vieiUard like Buy Gomez < old ace of apadea.' '' ^ Mais
auij* promptly retorted M. Laaaailly, << he has a perfect
right to do ao. Cards were invented under Charlea YI.
Bravo ! VieU as de piqus ! Bravoj Hugo /"

It is not generally known that the title of thia play
waa adopted only aa a last resort. Hugo had at first
contemplated calling it either << Gaatilian Honour," or
<< Three to One." It waa fortunate that hia frienda
diaauaded the poet from using the laat somewhat mis-
leading title, which to many would have suggested a
aporting melodrama rather than a tragedy.

The magnificent part of the heroine, Dofla Sol, waa
admirably sustained by the famous actress, Mile. Mara.

The first performance of ^ Hemani " almoat aynchro-
nises with the July Revolution which brought in the Or-
leana dynaaty to the throne of France. And under the
more liberal form of government, it might naturally be
supposed that the rising poet and dramatiat would find
more favour with the authoritiea. But Hugo's next
drama, *^ Le Boi s'amuae" (familiar to ua in the form of
Verdi'a opera, " Eigoletto "), waa banned by M. Thiera
aa unhesitatingly aa '* Marion Delorme " had been by the
ministers of Charles X. It waa, however, played for
one single night, and even when revived under the Third
Republic it had but a mediocre auccess.

^ Victor Hugo'a dramas have not, except to the read-
ing public, diaplaced the tragedies of Comeille and
Racine. Rachel as Chimdne, Sarah Bernhardt as

244 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

Phddre, are to ibis day better remembered by the old
habitues of the Com^die Franfaise than any actor in
any of Victor Hugo's parts. That Victor Hugo is one
of the greatest poets of the century can scarcely be
denied ; but his genius is more lyrical than dramatic." ^

Though the present building is a comparatively recent
structure, it is a museum of old treasures, and no other
theatre in the world is so rich in works of art. M.
Delorme's recondite and ezhaustive monograph (quoted
below) on the Franfaise should be consulted by those
interested in theatrical lore. << In the greenroom, in the
committee-room^ in the office of the administration, in
the archives, in every part of the theatre to which the
public has no access, there is a prodigious quantity of
portraits, of medallions, of genre pictures, of engravings,
drawings, marbles, bronzes, of statuettes, which with the
statues and busts exhibited in the public rooms and in
the vestibules form a unique collection, whereof every
piece belongs in some sort to the history of the House of
Molidre.''

The collection of accessories, historic properties, and
stage relics is as rich in its way as that of pictures
and statuary. Here is to be seen the mandolin used in
the <^ Barbier de Seville," as well as the guitar played
in the ^ Manage de Figaro," which has a curious history
attached to it. As an instrument it is of littie value, yet
it cost five hundred francs. When the piece was origi-
nally produced in 1784, the management did not antici-
pate more than a run of a week or so, and a guitar was
hired at ten francs a night. But the piece ran for fifty
nights, — an unusually lengthy run for that period, — and
1 "Old and New Paris."

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 245

the terms on which the guitar had been obtained were
totally forgotten till the hirer presented his bill for five
hundred francs !

There are also some lugubrious relics of doubtful
authenticity which are not usually shown. These
include some of the bones of La Fontaine and a por-
tion of Molidre's jawbone. Other interesting theatrical
souvenirs are the black satin slippers of Madame Rachel,
Comeille's purse, a large collection of playbills and
posters of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a
bill with the autograph of Molidre, etc.

So large and important is this collection that there
has been a proposal to form a public museum of theatri-
cal art in Paris, of which the GomJdie Franf aise museum
would form the nucleus. The intention was to establish
this museum in the Cour des Comptes, which was dam-
aged by fire at the fall of the Commune, and has since
been unoccupied: but, unfortunately, the building is
again to be converted into government oflSces.

There is a large collection of canes and sticks used by
famous actors. '^A volume might be written about
them alone, with all their characteristic varieties of
< expression : ' the cane of the marquis, — elegant and
rich, with its long handle of engraved gold, and its flow-
ing tassel in threads of the same metal ; the cane of the
doctor, — ebony, with an ivory handle, looking always
as though it were in half-mourning ; the miser's support,
— a mere stick cut from a neighbour's tree ; the cane of
the prodigal, mounted with turquoises; the pilgrim's
staff, the stick of office, the royal cane k la Louis XIY."
In short, every variety of stick, cane, or wand is repre-
sented in this collection of the Th^fttre Fran^ais

246 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Among the valuable relics is the arm-chair used by
Molidre himself when acting in '^Le Malade Imagi-
naire." It was in this chair the dramatist suffered the
first shock of the illness that proved fatal to him, after
the fourth performance of that play. Among the
other relics is a bell of the greatest historical interest.
It is believed on good authority to be the one which
hung in the belfry of St. Germain I'Auxerrois and
gave the signal for the massacre of the Huguenots.
It had been removed at the Revolution to be melted
down for cannon, and by a strange coincidence the
Com^die Fran^aise was just then performing Ch^nier's
political drama of ^* Charles IX.," and, being in want of
a bell to ring for the Massacre of St Bartholomew, the
management succeeded in obtaining the actual bell from
the authorities. The bell is still in use as one of the
stage properties. In the tragedy of ^< Marion Delorme,''
for instance, it rings the death-knell of Didier and De
Savemy.

The walls of all the salons and foyers are lined with
portraits of famous actors and actresses connected with
the theatre, among them being an excellent one of
Molidre, in which the poet is represented contemplating
with an expression of disdain a group of buffoons, who
represented, till Molidre began to write, the vulgar con-
ception of comedy.

The Th^fttre Fran^ais, is, in a sense, as much a govern-
ment institution as a kind of cooperative enterprise. It is
essentially, too, a national institution, and to a certain ex-
tent might almost be regarded as a kind of social barome-
ter of the political feeling of the capital. A well-known
politician, noticing on the eve of the 1848 revolution the

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 247

ominous word reldche placarded on its doors, observed :
<< When the Thd&tre Fran^ais shuts its doors in times of
political disturbance, you may be sure there is serious
mischief brewing."

Its actors are recruited from the state institution
known as the Conservatoire. A pupil who has taken
a first prize can claim as a right a salaried engagement
at the FrauQais, and if popular, he has every prospect of
ultimately becoming a %ociita%re. These %oei6taiTe%j or
shareholders, are practically the proprietors of the enter-
prise, and in its control they are assisted by a managing
director appointed by the government But this absence
of what is known as the star system has, of course, its
drawbacks. To this is due the defection of its greatest
actors, such as Delaunay and Sarah Bernhardt, and more
recentiy (1899) Le Bargy, the best jeune premier on the
French stage. These stars, with their enormous ^ draw-
ing'' powers, can of course make much larger profits
working independentiy than in cooperation with their
comrades at the Th^fttre Fran^ais. ^< Still, the honour
often outweighs other considerations, and the Fran^ais
as a rule has its pick of the best artistic ability in
France.'*

The cooperative character of the direction of the
Com^die Fran^aise occasionally causes a considerable
amount of friction between the director and sociStaires^
sometimes culminating in the secession of the leading
actors, as in the case of Madame Bernhardt and M.
Delaunay, already referred to. The last important de-
fection which has taken place under the present amiable
director, M. GlarJtie, is that of M. Le Bargy, upon whose
shoulders has fallen the mantie of Ddannay. It is

248 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

thought by disaffected members with an eye on the div-
idends that the present director's regime is too tolerant
and easy, and that under the iron rule of the former
director (who, by the way, cut down the salaries of the
pensionnaires and supers almost to starvation point) the
theatre used to show a more satisfactory balance-sheet.
The salary list of the ComJdie Fran9aise far exceeds that
of any theatre in Paris, amounting generally to over a
million francs a year, the leading actors being paid an
annual salary of thirty to forty thousand francs.

A first night at a theatre like the Fran^ais is an event
of even greater social importance than a first repre-
sentation at the Lyceum, London, or at Daly's, New
York. In Paris it is a point of honour with every one
who has any pretension to being in society to be present
at a first representation of an important play.

It is the custom, peculiar to French theatres, to with-
hold the name of the author of a new play — though it is
probably an open secret to most of the audience — till
the final curtain has fallen.

A unique institution at the Fran^ais is the ^ fashion-
able " night, which is invariably on Tuesday. On these
nights there is always a change of programme, and
the theatre is frequented by the ^lite of Paris. This
special night has had such a vogue that it has been found
necessary to start supplementary fashionable nights on
Wednesday or Thursday; on one of these days the
playgoer should make a point of attending, though he
will probably have some difficulty in securing a place.

There has been some kind of state control of plays
from the earliest days of the French sti^. In the mid-
dle of the fifteenth century the clerks and students who

DBAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABI8. 249

acted the mystery plays of the Basoche (see Palais de
Justice chapter) were subject to royal supervision, and
what was virtually a dramatic censorship was established,
which continued till the Revolution. In 1794 this cen-
sorship, which had been abolished by the National Con-
vention as subversive of the rights of man, and the
sacredness of individual liberty, was again put in force.
Ostensibly this was because the aristocracy had ^< taken
refuge in the administration of various theatres. Under
the Second Republic the censorship was again abolished,
but this freedom from the government control of theat-
rical performances lasted but a short time, and under
Napoleon m. the dramatic censorship was finally re-
established and has continued down to the present day.^
A peculiar institution of the French stage is the droit
de% pauvreij a tax of ten per cent, on the gross receipts.
No doubt, in a country which has nothing analogous to
our poor rates, nothing could be more logical or just than
this fiscal law by which the amusements of the rich are
taxed for the benefit of the poor. But it obviously tends to
check and hamper theatrical enterprise. Managers nat-
urally ask what share of the net profits is left for them
after meeting the claims of the poor and those of the
authors, for the latter usually get a royalty on the same
basis.

The handsome Od^on Th^fttre, which is situated close
to the Luxembourg (the back of the theatre faces the
principal entrance), and the only transpontine theatre of
any importance in Paris, is one of the four theatres sub-
sidised by the state, on which account its official desig-
nation (never heard) is Th^fttre National de TOdfon.
With its handsome classical colonnade and portico it has

250 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

a superficial resemblance to our National Theatre of
Drurj Lane. Historically the Od^on ranks next to the
Com^die Fran^aise, to which theatre it may indeed be
said to owe its existence.

The Od^on has had an eventful history, and the story
of its genesis is interesting. In 1770 the company of
the Com^die FrauQaise installed itself in a new theatre
on ground then occupied by the Hdtel de Gond^. This
was the predecessor of the Od^on Th^&tre, and here
Beaumarchais's comedy, <<The Marriage of Figaro,"
was played for the first time in 1784, as already
described.

In the first few years of the Revolution the Com^die
Fran^aise was suppressed, and the company were all
arrested, but, thanks to the good offices of Andr6 Ch^nier,
the Laureate of the Revolution, whose brother Joseph
was connected with the theatre, their lives were spared.
Napoleon, when First Consul, restored the privileges of
the Gom^die FrauQaise Th^^tre, and in 1799 these were
established in their present home in the Rue Richelieu.

The former house of the Gom^die Fran^aise was re-
opened in 1797, under the titie of Od6on, in accordance
with the prevailing craze for classical names. A few
years afterward it met the usual fate of most Paris
theatres, and was destroyed by fire. In 1807 it was
rebuilt with the title of Th^fitre de Plmp^ratricc, and
virtually became a kind of succurmle or iUpendance of
the Gom^die FrauQaise, but its repertoire ]||co»fitied to
comedies. In 1818 the theatre was
fire.

"Since this time the Od6on haft*
dramatic sense, undergone all Idtidit

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 251

It became first a lyrical theatre, with such pieces as
^ Robin des Bois/ corresponding, no doubt, to our < Robin
of the Wood,' or ^ Robin Hood,' this name having been
given to a strange adaptation by Gastil Blaze, with inter-
polations, by the adapter, of Weber's ^ Der Freischiitz,'
and under Louis Philippe the Odton was the headquar-
ters of Italian opera.

<<At present the Od^on is definitely classed as the
second Th^&tre Fran^ais, in which character it pays no
rent, and enjoys an annual subsidy of one hundred thou-
sand francs. No theatre during the last seventy years
has rendered greater service to dramatic art Here
have been represented pieces by Victor Hugo, Alexandre
Dumas, Alfred de Musset, Alfred de Vigny, Balzac,
George Sand, Emile Augier, Octave Feuillet, M6ry, L^n
Gozlan, Theodore Barridre, Edmond Gondinet, Hippo-
lyte Lucas, Michel Carr6, Fr^d^ric Souli^, Franfois
Ponsard,Fran9ois Copp^e, Alphonse Daudet, and a hun-
dred others. The house, moreover, has formed a great
number of superior artists, who were, one after the
other, claimed by the Gom^die Fran^aise. Of the many
admirable pieces produced at the Od6on, full and inter-
esting accounts may be found in the collected feuilletons
of Jules Jaunin and of Th^ophile Gauthier." ^

There is a curious story connecting this theatre with
the early adventures of Prince Louis Napoleon (subse-
quently Napoleon III.) after his escape from the fortress
of Ham, where he had been inmiured as a consequence
of his ludicrous attempt to upset the French government
at BoulojErne in 1840.

ir to put thti fiolice off his track, while he was
i*Oid and New Paris."

252 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

arranging for flight, the prince is said to have hidden
himself for several weeks in a private box at the Od^on.
He lived there in untroubled solitude, the auvreuse being
a good-natured old woman who had been won over to
his cause, and who had consented to bring in his meals
from outside. His partisans who were <' in the know *'
used to come to see him in his hiding-place, but one by
one, so as not to arouse suspicion; here they took
counsel concerning plans which were eventually crowned
with success.

The Od^on can hardly be said at present to be in a
very flourishing state, in spite of its subsidy, and it is
not much visited by strangers. Its remote situation in
the Quartier Latin, far away from the << theatre quarter/'
naturally prevents its being a popular theatre with for-
eigners.

The third historical theatre of Paris, the Op^ra Co-
mique, which, like the Th^fttre Franfds and the OdJon,
has had a checkered career, has not taken such a prom-
inent part in the social life of Paris as the other two.
For one thing, its origin is exotic, and the development
of the Op6ra Gomique is closely connected with that of
Italian opera. The precursor of the Op^ra Gomique
was the Gom^die Italienne (from which the Boulevard
des Italiens derives its name), which had established
itself as far back as 1676, the date of the letters patent
granted to it by Louis XIY. But an earlier origin still
is claimed for the Op^ra Gomique, as it may be said to
have owed its origin to the Venetian troupe brought
to France by Henri III., exactly a centary earlier, and
established in the Hdtel de Bourgogne. The Italians,
however, had rendered themselves obnoxious to their

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABI8. 253

great patron, Cardinal Mazarin, by satirising a favourite
of the court, and they were expelled from France.

In 1716 the company forming the Com^die Italienne
were allowed to return and establish themselves in a the-
atre in the Palais Royal. Their stay in Paris was, how-
ever, short, and, after a temporary amalgamation with a
company of French actors and actresses, the Italians were
virtually driven again from France in 1788, and their
theatre (called successively Th^fttre des Italiens, Salle
Favart, and Op^ra Comiqne) in the Boulevard des Ita-
liens was occupied by the French company UU, soon
after the establishment of the republic, the actors emi-
grated to a new theatre in the Rue Feydeau. The the-
atre in the Boulevard des Italiens remained unoccupied
during the First Republic and the First Empire, but at
the Restoration it was opened for serious Italian opera by
Catalan!. For twenty years it had a great success, and
the Paris Italian opera from about 1818 to 1888 was
perhaps the best in Europe. Catalani, Lablache, Rubini,
Tamburini, Oarcia, etc., and Mesdames Malibran, Orisi,
Pasta, and Persiani have sung here, while Rossini for
some seasons acted as musical director. << This theatre,
like all others, was soon destined to perish by fire ; and
Italian opera has of late years led a somewhat wander-
ing life in France, to find itself ultimately without any
home at all.'*

To go back to the fortunes of the Op^ra Comique,
the days of Madame Favart were its palmiest To come
to modem times, in 1888 a new theatre — the one des-
troyed in 1887 — was built for French comic opera, and
here the famous operas, ^* Carmen " and ^^ Mignon," which
made the fortune of the new house, were produced. It

254 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

will be noticed that this theatre has always been tbe
most truly national of all the French musical houses,
whereas at the Grand Op^ra nearly all the successful
works have been by Italian or German composers. The
new Op^ra Ck>mique, which was only completed in 1899,
has been built on the site of the old Op^ra Comique,
and the company, which for the last twelve years has
been acting in the Th^&tre de Paris in the Place du
Ghfttelet, is now once more on its native heath.

The disastrous fire which destroyed the last Op^ra
Comique theatre was one of the most terrible that has
taken place in Paris during this century, more than a
hundred lives being lost. It took place on May 22, 1887,
and the terrible scenes then enacted are fresh in the
memories of many Parisians.

The new theatre is a costly and elegant building, and
tbe fa9ade (fronting the Place Boteldieu) has some fine
sculptural decorations by AUard, O. Michel, and Perrot
It is, with the exception, of course, of the Op^ra and
the Com6die FrauQaise, the only Paris theatre which is
wortb visiting apart from the performance, as the in-
ternal decorations include sculpture by J. Goutan and
Marqueste, and paintings by Benjamin Constant, Tou-
douze, and Aim^ Morot. The latter has taken for his
subject the recent visit of the Czar Nicholas II. and the
Czarina to Paris.

The Op^ra Comique is one of the four ^< state-aided "
theatres in Paris (the others being the Op^ra, Com^e
Franfaie^, and Od^on),and receiu^ hjs umiual ftubsiily of
three hundred thousand francs, which is mxty tiiongand
francs more than that received 1

In addition to the four m

DBAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS, 255

above, there are some fifty theatrical establishmentB
(including caf^-concerts) in Paris, but of these there are
scarcely a dozen which are visited or need be visited by
strangers. Most of these are on the Orand Boulevards,
and a brief indication of the character of the pieces
usually performed at the principal ones may serve to
give a visitor some idea of the great variety of dramatic
fare offered to theatre-goers in Paris.

1. The Otfmnaaey 88 Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle. —
Vaudevilles and drawing-room comedies. Scribe wrote
most of his comedies for this theatre, and several of the
best plays of Alexandre Dumas and Sardou were pro-
duced here. From the critic's point of view this house
for long ranked next to the Com^die Fran^aise.

2. PalaU Royal. — Still retains its character as one
of the liveliest of the Paris theatres. Brilliant but de-
cidedly risky farces admirably acted are the staple pro-
ductions. The theatre is proverbially unfitted for la
jevme fiUe^ and it is said to be one of the recognised
privileges of a French bride to be able to witness un-
questioned a Palais Boyal farce.

8. VarUtSn^ Boulevard Montmartre. — The pieces
acted here now are chiefly vaudevilles and farces of
the Palais Boyal type. Mile. Judic and Mile. B^jane
have made this theatre famous. <' La Belle H^ldne *' and
<< La Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein '* were produced here,
and the first representations of some of the best known
comedies of Meilhac, Hal^vy, and Labiche were given
at this theatre.

4. NouveautS$y 28 Boulevard des Italiens. — One of
the more recently built theatres, with as yet no great
individuality.

256 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

6. Vaudeville^ Boulevard des Capucines. — Built in
1869 to replace the one pulled down in the Place de la
Bourse. The old theatre gave the name of " vaudeville ^
to the class of comedy much in vogue at that theatre.
It now gives chiefly dramas and comedies. It was at
the old theatre that " La Dame aux Camillas/' which
ran for 180 nights, was produced in 1852.

6. Porte St, Martin j Boulevard St. Martin. — Its recent
fame due chiefly to the fact that Madame Sarah Bern-
hardt once owned it and acted here for several seasons.

7. Benaissancej close to the above mentioned theatre.
— Opera-bouffes and burlesque opera usually performed.
It was here that '' Le Petit Due" and " La Petite Ma-
rine" were produced.

8. AmbigvrComiqtiej 2 Boulevard St Martin. — The
Adelphi or Drury Lane of Paris. Zola's ^^ Assommoir "
was first produced here.

9. Oait^y opposite the Conservatoire des Arts et
Metiers. — This is one of the four theatres owned by
the Paris municipality. Melodramas were formerly a
specialty, and adaptations of Victor Hugo's novels were
often acted here, but of late years it has not kept to any
particular class of drama. Offenbach's operettas were
revived here with some success. One of the most strik-
ing pieces first produced here within recent years was
A. Daudef s << Tartarin sur les Alpes.''

10. Folies DramcUiqtieSj Boulevard St. Martin. — Op-
erettas and comic opera. Corresponds to the London
Gaiety. Lecocq's "Fille de Madame Angot" and Plan-
quette's " Cloches de Comeville " are two famous oper-
ettas which were first brought out here.

11. Bouffei Parinem. — A very popular house, but

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABI8. 257

one of the smallest The chief house of comic opera.
It was made famous bj Offenbach's ^^Orph^e aux
Enfers."

12. CfhOteletj Place du Chfttelet — A large and lofty
edifice, admirably adapted for the class of performances
usually to be witnessed at this theatre, — extravaganzas,
ballets, and spectacular dramas. It has a sliding roof
like the Canterbury Music Hall, in London, which is
removed in summer for ventilation. " Michel Strogoff,"
which was first produced here, is a type of the play
which best suits the tastes of the patrons of this hand-
some theatre. This is one of the largest theatres in
Paris, holding three thousand spectators.

In music, the French, in spite of their praiseworthy
ambition to be supreme in the whole world of art, have
not succeeded in taking rank as the leading musical
nation, and in this regard France has to give way to
Germany and, perhaps, even Italy. France has never
hitherto succeeded in holding the same position among
civilised nations in music as in art and literature. In
short, the national genius is dramatic rather than musi-
caL Consequently, opera has had to be imported, and,
though the musical art is assiduously cultivated, it is as
an exotic rather than as an indigenous plant. ^^The
French are neither harmonic to perfection as the Ger-
mans are," observes M. Saint-Saens, ^^ nor melodious as
are the Italians, but they are dramatic. Italy subordi-
nated drama to melody, Germany gave a prodigious im-
pulse to instrumental music, while France perfected the
lyric drama, and, borrowing something from each, made
opera dramatic above all, and subordinated singing and
symphony to action."

258 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Though the Conservatoire is not, of course, limited to
providing aspirants for operatic honours, yet most of tbe
artistes in the National Op^ra serve a kind of apprentice-
ship in the Conservatoire. So, in this regard, the Op^ra
maj be considered as the finishing school for pupils
of this famous academy of music. In fact, the prize-
takers of a certain grade at the Conservatoire can claim
an engagement at the Op^ra. But as a large number of
these musical laureates are produced each year, it is
necessary to give rather a wide interpretation to the
term ^^ engagement," and many of the prize pupils are,
with respect to salary at all events, little more than
supernumerary members of the Op^ra personnel. Conse-
quently, the majority of Conservatoire graduates get
their living either in the concert-room or as teachers of
music, and a considerable number get engagements in
the fashionable church choirs, such as St Eustache, Ste.
Clotilde, the Madeleine, or St. Roch.

The system of teaching approximates closely to that
pursued at the Academy of Fine Arts, and there is even
a Prix de Some for music as well as for painting.

The Conservatoire concerts for classical music are
among the best in Paris. They take place every Sunday
from January to April. They are open to the public,
but the single tickets are rather expensive, as the audi-
ence is chiefly composed of subscribers to the whole
series, at a specially reduced tariff.

The Grand Op^ra House, the embodiment of the
national musical spirit, — for it is not only a theatre,
but an academy of music, — has hitherto been something
of a white elephant, for, though heavily subsidised by
the state, it has never yet paid expenses. It is a failure,

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PABI8. 259

indeed, regarded as a financial enterprise, mainly on
account of the assistance it receives from the state,
owing to the onerous conditions which cripple its devel-
opment Being practically a government department,
the huge theatre is always run at a loss, the cost of
functionaries and officials eating up the profits. For
instance, in an average month the cost of management
is over 400,000 francs, while the receipts are about
880,000, which includes the state subvention of 120,000
francs a month. The budget for the year 1898 shows
a total revenue of £160,000, made up as follows:
£82,000, the state subvention, £72,000, the subscrip-
tion from season ticket-holders, while the balance is
derived from the sale of seats for separate performances.
Another reason for the non-success of the Op^ra is that
Italian opera is barely recognised, and, of course, Ger-
man opera was, until recentiy, absolutely tabooed, while
another obstacle is the absurd restriction which limits
performances to every other night During the height
of the season, however, there are four instead of three
performances weekly. The average number of represen-
tations is 190 per annum.

The chief credit of breaking down the inartistic, if
patriotic, opposition of the Parisian public to Wagner
is due to the famous musical director, M. Lamoureux.
In 1861 ^^Tannhauser'' was hooted off the stage, but in
1895 it was received, if not with enthusiasm, with
respect, and since that date occasional performances of
the great master's opera have been heard in Paris.

An obvious criticism of the Op^ra House is that it is
overdecorated and too gorgeous. The exterior is, of
course, magnificent, and stmcturally the Paris Op^ra

260 PABI8 IN ITS aPLENDOUB.

is the finest lyric theatre in the world. It was a whim
of the architect that the principal parts of the structure,
the foyer or promenade, the auditorium, and the stage,
should be clearly indicated in the elevation. Hence we
have this threefold scheme in the exterior visible to all
observers. The fa9ade represents the foyer, the dome,
the auditorium, and the elevated roof behind the stage.
The staircase is, perhaps, the finest in the world. ^< It
is an eighth wonder of the world, and must be seen.
It is an attempt to revive the old ideal of the art, the
combination of perfect colour with perfect form, an ideal
that still sends Gamier to Italy almost every year to
study the masterpieces of the Renaissance.''

The result is not surprising. The architect had carte
blanche both as regards time and money, and he was
able to enlist the services of the best sculptors for the
adornment of the wonderful facade.

This theatre had everything that a temple of art
should have, and, as the embodiment of a genius in this
form of architectural endeavour, the Op^ra House will
<< always be interesting as the best of an epoch and of
a race.'*

Yet the building has aroused the fiercest criticism, and,
no doubt, some defects are palpable even to a non-expert
For instance, the auditorium is too small, and seems
especially so after the expectation raised by the colossal
staircase. Instead of seating three thousand, like the
Scala of Milan, for instance, it will hold only about two
thousand spectators. The stage, in cubic and superficial
area, is, however, the largest in the world.

People, perhaps, hardly realise how the happy situ-
ation of the Op^ra adds to its magnificent effect In

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 261

itself a noble building, it would have lost in effect
enormously, had not the Avenue de TOp^ra been built
exclusively as a frontage for this grand pile. It is true,
the showy magnificence and ornate splendour of the
Op^ra is often severely criticised. But these pitiless
critics quite fail to appreciate that richness and size
were absolutely required, owing to the peculiar situation
of the building. All the houses in the Avenue de
rOp^ra are lofty and many highly ornate, and, as Mr.
Hamerton justly remarks^ the Op^ra, if it were to hold
its own and stand out prominently among its surround-
ings, ^ was compelled to assert itself strongly, and if it
had merits they must be of a showy and visible kind, —
rather those of the sunflower than those of the lily of
the valley." The architect, M. Gamier, rightly, then,
aimed at showy magnificence, and in this respect the
Op^ra has, perhaps, no rival in the world. The story
is told that at a certain dinner-party several distin-
guished men were severely criticising M. Gamier's
eh^fScefuxre. Among them was a provincial architect,
who was finally appealed to for his opinion. <^ Gentle-
men," he replied, ^'when an architect undertakes to
erect a comparatively small building, it is still a very
complex affair ; and how much more must such a gigan-
tic work as the Op^ra be, where a thousand matters of
detail and necessity have to be provided for, all of which
the architect has to carry in his mind together, and to
reconcile with the exigencies of art ! Such a task is one
of the heaviest and longest strains that can be imposed
upon the mind of man; and if the architect does not
satisfy every one, it may be because other people are
not aware of the extreme complexity of the problem."

262 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

As regards the exterior, this much must be admitted
by the most severe critics of the building. The archi-
tect has followed most conscientiously the artistic canon
which requires an exterior to conform as much as pos-
sible to the uses of the edifice. There can be no mis-
take as to what the building is meant for, — a great
theatre, — <^ whereas the Vaudeville might be taken for
the entrance to a bank, and the Od^on for a scientific lec-
ture hall and museum.'' As to the interior, the richness
of decoration is excessive and almost overwhelming to the
spectator. This is especially so in the case of the
grand foyer. It is palatial but vulgar with its lavish
and heavy ornamentation, and too much has certainly
been sacrificed here in order to produce a brilliant and
splendid effect The costiy paintings on the ceiling are
by Paul Baudry, but it is impossible to appreciate their
undeniable merits in their too elevated situation.

The grand staircase makes up for the meretricious
gorgeousness and lack of taste in the interior. This
is certainly Gamier's chrf-d^ceuvre^ and is deservedly
one of the great sights of Paris. Its splendour and
magnificence give an appearance of solid grandeur which
is lacking in other parts of the great theatre. <^It is
honest work throughout, and may last a thousand years.
The architect evidentiy took pride in it, as he has so
planned tiie design tiiat visitors may look down from
galleries on four different stories all around the
building."

It seems that this famous staircase is considered by
Parisians to rank among the ^< eight wonders *' of Paris.
A tourist can no more escape the question, ^^Avez-
vou» vu resealierf^ than a new arrival at Sydney in

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 263

Australia can avoid giving his opinion of <^ our beautiful
harbour."

A bal masqud at the Op^ra is certainly a spectacle to
be seen once. It is emphatically a spectacle from the
tourists' point of view, for the dancing is of course left
to hirelings, and visitors look on at the revels from the
boxes. Ordinary evening dress only is worn by visitors.
<< It is a sight to be seen, though it has lost the mystic
attraction of intrigue it once possessed, when women of
fashion wore the domino like the rest, and entered into
the spirit of the scene." The theatre certainly makes
an incomparable ballroom, and the rich and flamboyant
decorations are well adapted for these scenes of revelry.
The dancers have the run of the whole theatre audito-
rium as well as stage. By means of an ingenious mechan-
ism, the invention, rather curiously, of an Augustinian
monk, a certain Nicholas Bourgeois, the auditorium can
be raised to the level of the stage in about half an hour.
Perhaps we have here the germ of the hydraulic double
stage, of which there are now several examples, notably
Madison Square Theatre, New York. Few Paris thea-
tres have long had a settied domicile, but the Op^ra has
had more vicissitudes than any, having been a prey to
the flames no less than three times in a century, the
last occasion being in 1873, when it was located in
the Rue Le Peletier.

It was during the first years of its tenancy here (1821
-1823) that Paris opera was at the height of its suc-
cess. The number of celebrated operas brought out at
the Le Peletier Opera House in two consecutive sea-
sons is probably unequalled in the history of the lyric
stage. Among tiiese were Rossini's ^^ Guillaume Tell,"

264 PARIS IN ITS 8PLEKD0UR.

Donizetti's "Favorite," Verdi's "VSpres Siciliennes,"
and Meyerbeer's " Robert le Diable," " ProphSte," and
" Af ricaine." It is a curious coincidence that the fire
which converted this opera-house into a heap of ruins
broke out on the very day (October 20, 1878) on which,
two hundred years ago, LuUi's earliest opera was pro-
duced, — the first lyrical play ever performed in Paris
under the royal patent

The Op^ra, which had previously been installed in the
Rue Richelieu, close to the Palais Royal, was pulled
down by the Paris municipality in 1820, in consequence
of the murder of the Due de Berri (heir to the French
throne) by Louvel on the steps of this opera-house on
February 13, 1820. It must, however, be mentioned for
the credit of the authorities that this quixotic act was
not carried out on their initiative. They had practically
no alternative, as the Archbishop of Paris had absolutely
refused to allow the last sacrament to be administered
to the dying prince, unless the authorities solemnly
undertook to " destroy the profane building in which so
holy an act was about to be performed."

The circumstances of this brutal and inexplicable
murder — as motiveless as that of the Empress of
Austria in Geneva in 1898 — were dramatic apart
from their theatrical surroundings. The Due de Berri
was accompanying tiie duchess to her carriage toward
the dose of the opera ("Don Quixote"), when he was
suddenly set upon by the assassin and stabbed to tiie
heart He was at once carried to the director's room.
"There," to quote a contemporary writer, "lay the
unhappy prince on a bed hastily arranged, and already
soaked with blood, surrounded by his father, brother,

DRAMATIC AND MUSICAL PARIS. 265

sister, and wife, whose poignant anguish was from time
to time relieved by some faint ray of hope, destined
soon to be dispelled. When Dupuytren, accompanied
by fonr of his most eminent colleagues, arrived, it was
thought for a moment that the duke might yet be saved.
But it soon became evident that the case was hopeless.
... In a neighbouring room the assassin was being
interrogated by the Ministers Decazes and Pasquier,
with tiie bloody dagger on the table before them;
while on the stage the ballet of <Don Quixote' was
being performed in the presence of an enthusiastic public.
In the course of the night the king arrived, and his
nephew expired in his arms at half-past six the next
morning."

Dupuytren, the famous physician mentioned above,
has left a touching record of the last hours of the
heroic prince, who in the midst of his terrible suffer-
ings thought only of sparing the life of his murderer.
<^ When the king at last arrived, the duke no sooner
saw his Majesty than, summoning all his strength, he
cried out < Spare his life, sir ! Spare the man's life ! '
* My nephew,' the king replied, * you are not so ill as
you think, and we shall have time to think of your
request when you have recovered.' Yet the prince con-
tinued as before, the king being still on his guard, not
to grant a pardon which was equally repugnant to the
laws of nature and to those of society. Then tiiis gener-
ous prince exclaimed in a tone of deep regret, ^ Ah, sir,
you do not say, <« yes ; " if the man's life were spared, the
bitterness of my last moments would be softened.' As
his end grew near, pursuing the same idea, he expressed
in a low voice, broken by grief, and with long intervals

2H»j

p-j^zs or rra ^^ucmocM.

h elPWii eaA wordr tiie fiiilowiiig tbon^it: ^A&! — if
ool; — I eoald earry away — die 'yiea^ tbsc t&e Uood <tf
a Buui — woold not flow oa my aM ge amu — aSaer blt
AhUIi.' Dm Mble prayer wa» tfe last he vtta«L
Hia eDoateatiy mtxtamn^ and aow afcrooona pain al>-
af>rtMd froaa tiua ajonwat ail hia farnlticm'^

266 PABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

between each word, the following thought: <Ah! — if
only — I could carry away — the idea that the blood of
a man — would not flow on my account — after my
death/ This noble prayer was the last he uttered.
His constantly increasing and now atrocious pain ab-
sorbed from this moment all his faculties."

TOWKK OF ST. JACQUKS.

CHAPTER Xn.

SPORTS AND PA8TIMEB.

It is a popular error which dies hard that field sports
are not popular in France, and that fencing and gym-
nastics are the sole recreations available for the youth
of France. The old formula, ^ there are no sports in
France/' with which we in our insular self-sufficiency have
been wont to dispose of the question of sports in France,
is a little out of date. Horse-racing, at all events, is dis-
tinctly popular with all classes, and though it cannot be
said that the sport is of an equally high order at the
great French meetings as at the classic races on our side
of the channel, yet French racers can hold their own
fairly well with all but the pick of the great English
training stables.

The French racing calendar (omitting the provincial
meetings at Bheims, Bouen, Nice, etc.) opens with the
Longchamp Spring Meeting at Easter, then the great
week at Chantilly in May, when the Prix du Jockey
Club is the principal event This is followed by the
Grand Prix at Longchamp in June. Then comes the
Fontainebleau races. The chief autumn meeting takes
place at Chantilly, which may be regarded in some re-
spects as the Newmarket of France, while Longchamp
is its Ascot, and Auteuil (except that racing here is over
hurdles, not on the flat) is the nearest approach to our

CHAPTER Xn.

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

It is a popular error which dies hard that field sports
are not popular in France, and that fencing and gym-
nastics are the sole recreations available for the yonth
of France. The old formala, ^ there are no sports in
France," ¥Kth which we in our insular self-sufficiency have
been wont to dispose of the question of sports in France,
is a little out of date. Horse-racing, at all events, is dis-
tinctly popular with all classes, and though it cannot be
said tiiat the sport is of an equally high order at the
great French meetings as at the classic races on our side
of tiie channel, yet French racers can hold their own
fairly well with all but the pick of the great English
training stables.

The French racing calendar (omitting the provincial
meetings at Bheims, Bouen, Nice, etc.) opens with the
Longchamp Spring Meeting at Easter, then the great
week at Ghantilly in May, when the Prix du Jockey
Club is the principal event This is followed by the
Grand Prix at Longchamp in June. Then comes the
Fontainebleau races. The chief autumn meeting takes
place at Chantilly, which may be regarded in some ro-
spects as the Newmarket of France, while Longchamp
is its Ascot, and Auteuil (except that racing here is over
hurdles, not on the flat) is the nearest approach to our

268 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

aristocratic Goodwood. To complete tbe list, Yinceimea
ahould be included in tbe list of Paris meetings, tbougb
tills is not important either from a social or a sporting
point of view. It is tbe Alexander Park or Eempton
Park of tbe Frencb sporting world.

Auteuil is tbe ideal French course for tbe 61ite. Tbe
wbole of tbe course is swept, gamisbed, and trimmed
like tbe lawn of a well-kept garden. Tbe tribune (grand
stand) bas all tbe appointments of a fashionable club,
with tbe addition of a ladies' drawing-room, famished
like a boudoir. There is serious racing here, neverthe-
less, and some of tbe jumps, notably le Saut de la Biviire
du huUj which is almost as formidable as tbe Saut du
OofUre-loi at Yincennes, would be treated with respect
even by a Orand National Winner, though a walk
through the paddock and Pe$age with tbe crowds of
smartly dressed women, would suggest a fashionable
bazaar or garden-party rather tiian a race-meeting. But
if Ghantilly and Auteuil are tbe resorts of the ^ high lif e,**
every visitor to Paris should try to attend a Orand Prix
Meeting at Longchamp. It is the most typical of all ;
every dass seems represented at this universal and cos-
mopolitan meeting, for though it is not fashionable in
tbe sense that Auteuil and Ghantilly are, its vogue is
universal.

Though the Jockey Club is primarily a great sporting
dub, its raiUan d*Stre being the encouragement of horse-
breeding, it is, unlike its prototype of Newmarket, a
fashionable social club as well, and the magnificent dub-
house at tbe comer of tbe Rue Scribe is one of tbe fin-
est in Paris. It is one of tbe most exdusive dubs in
Europe, but it is said to be characterised by a somewhat

SPOBTS AND PASTniXA 26d

solid respectability quite at variance with its ancient
traditions under the regime of the notorious Lord Henry
Seymour, when it was fiie wildest and fastest club in
Paris.

Bowing is a popular recreation in Paris, and, though it
is true it is regarded by most Parisians as an amusement
rather than a sport, the capital boasts many important
boating clubs. The oldest is the Gercle de PAviron,
at 60 Rue Delaborde, but the most important are
file Bowing Club de Paris and the Soditi Nautique
de la Mame. The favourite course is the four and a
half mile stretch from Billancourt to the Bridge of
Suresnes, which is slightly longer than the classic course
from Putney to Mortlake. The sculling championship
of France is decided on the shorter course from Suresnes
to Neuilly. Then there is the amateur championship
open to all the world, for the challenge cup presented by
the late Sir Richard Wallace. The distance is about a
mile and a quarter, about a furlong less than the Henley
course. This race is no new institution, having been
inaugurated just over half a century. Until 1876 the
championship was nearly always carried off by for-
eigners, usually English scullers, but in that year the
faimous French sculler, M. Alexandre Lein, carried off
the cup, and afterward managed to retain the trophy for
seven consecutive years.

Regarding the Seine in the light of a promenade en
biiteauy in scenic charm it must certainly yield in beauty
to the Thames, for the river scenery from Paris to
Bouen, for instance, cannot be compared with fiiat from
Bichmond to Oxford. At the same time the near
reaches of the Seine and the Mame are more beauti-

270 PABI8 IN ITS SPLKNDOUn.

fill perhaps than those in the neighbourhood of London.
We have nothing equal to the beautiful reaches from
St Cloud to Asnidres, or from Golombes to St Ger-
main, for instance, in the same distance from the English
metropolis. But there are two drawbacks to the boating
excursions down the two << loops'' from Sdvres or St
Cloud to St Germain, the ugly banlieue of St Denis
and the unpleasant proximity of the sewage farms on
the flat peninsula of Gennevilliers. For this reason
Argenteuil or Golombes might be preferred as a start-
ing-place. The scenery of the Mame from Nogent-sur-
Mame upward is perhaps even more charming than
that of the Seine, and the river flows through a more
pastoral and rural scenery than is to be met with along
the villa and chftteau strewn banks of the fashionable
residential suburbs which stretch from St Cloud to St
Germain.

Though fishing is certainly the most popular — using
the word in the strict interpretation — recreation in
Paris, for there are probably more anglers in Paris, and
to tell the truth less sport, than in any European capital,
it is by no means a fashionable amusement In fact fish-
ing in Paris is essentially democratic. At the .Eclttse de
la Monnaiej on the lee of the Pont Neuf , — a favourite
spot, — may be seen chiffoniers, errand boys, pensioned
employes, sitting or standing Bide by side, engrossed in
their contemplative queat for gudgeon and barbcL In
fact the PScheur de Goujon is a disl^m Parblan type
and the recognised butt of the comic

Though outside Paris the Seine
^ cantons," the farmers of which
the democratic and communistic

BPORTS AND PASTIMES. 271

sport is recognised by a quaint provision of tbe legal
code, which makes fishing free to all so long as the
angler never rests his rod on the bank. Only license-
holders are free to use a net or fixed rod. At the same
time angling can be had in the Bois de Boulogne lakes,
in which the fishing is preserved by the municipality,
on payment of an annual license of twenty-five francs ;
while fishing is permitted in the lake at Sceaux on con-
dition of paying at the lodge so much per kilogramme
of the fish caught The close season for the Seine is
from April 1st to the 15th of June. The sport on tiie
Mame is on the whole better than that on the Seine, as
it is not so much fished over. A fair catch of barbel
and bream would probably reward an angler between
Gharenton and Nogent-sur-Mame, but flie weeds render
bottom fishing difficult

It is a truism to say fliat the French as a nation do
not understand athletic sports, for racing, which is so
popular in France, can scarcely come under tbe category
of athletics, while fishing is rather a passive than an
active field sport But speaking generally, the French,
unlike the English, have no national universal sport in
which all can take part, from tiie highest to the low-
est, such as cricket and football. It is true cycling is
popular with all classes in France, but this is more a
universal method of locomotion than a recreation.

It may be objected that lawn-tennis, golf, cricket, etc.,
are played a good deal by Parisians. This is undeniable,
and the vogue of these games increases rapidly. But
this applies to the classes and not to the masses, these
"^ being fashionable rather than popular ; they have
>ated as in England to the lower strata of the

270

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8P0BTS AND PASTIMES. 273

Bicycling, as we have said, is an exception. This
appeals to all classes, though within the last two or
three years the richer classes, with their characteristic
love of novelty, are beginning to exchange the bicycle
for motor-cars. Cycling in Paris, in spite of the fact
that it is no longer a fashionable craze, seems more
popular, to judge from the number of cyclists to be
seen there, than even in London or New York, and the
never-ending nrocession of cyclists on fine mornings from
the Champs Elysdes to the Bois is one of the character-
istic sights of Paris. In fact, the Avenue de la Grande
Armtfe is the Botten Bow of the cycling world.

The amateurs of auto-cars have now an excellent club,
and one of the handsomest and best appointed sporting
club-houses in Paris. It is situated on the Place de la
Concorde. The entrance fee is two hundred francs,
and the annual subscription is the same. Unlike the
leading clubs of Paris, full membership is granted to
foreigners. It has already nearly twenly-five hundred
members.

Skating — on artificial ice — is a veiy fashionable
amusement. The headquarters are the Cerde des Pati-
neurs in the Bois de Boulogne, one of the most aristo-
cratic clubs in tiie capital, founded under the Second
Empire, with the direct patronage of the court It is
now incorporated with the Gun Club, and in character
it approximates very closely to tiie English Hurlingham
polo. Lawn-tennis is also played here, but polo is played
only at rare intervals, owing to the difficully of get-
ting up matches through a scarcily of amateurs. The
polo ground and club-house is at the Pelouse de Baga-
teUe.

'irx.

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SPOUTS AND PASTIMSB. 275

tion to the numerooB mUcm of the professors of fliis
popular aticomplishment, — and in France a knowledge
of fencing is as essential for any one with pretensions
to being in society as skill in riding or dancing, — there
are nnmeroos fencing clubs and societies, of which the
leading one is the Gercle de PEscrime et des Arts in the
Bue Taitbout, the jockey club of the foil. Then there
is the small Gercle de TEscrime in the Rue d'Anjou, the
Soci6t£ d'Escrime, and again the Soci^t^ d'Encourage-
ment Then at all the fashionable clubs a fencmg-room
is as necessary a part of the equipment as the billiard-
room is of an English club. Even the large newspaper
offices, notably the Figaro and the France^ have their
well appointed %alles dCeBcrimey with bathrooms and
dressing-rooms attached. Considering that fully nine-
tenths of the duels fought in Paris are fought by jour-
nalists, it is not surprising that the art of fencing, which
admittedly renders the encounter less dangerous, is as-
siduously cultivated by the Parisian members of the
Fourth Estate.

Enough has been said to show how widespread is the
love of fencing in France among the upper and profes-
sional classes.

It need scarcely be said that fencing is much cul-
tivated in the army, for even private soldiers are
practically compelled to settle their differences either
with swords or buttonless foils, and they fight in pres-
ence of the regimental mattre-d'armes, who draws up an
official report of the encounter for the colonel. A former
minister of war used to insist on the value of fencing
from a purely military point of view, and this is obvious
to the mere civilian, for the one stroke that renders cav-

276 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

ally formidable when charging is the direct thmat (coup
draif) of the fencing school.

Even ladies now cultivate this popular exercise, and
no fashionable numdaine*9 day is complete without half
an hour's practice with the foils under tiie tuition of a
celebrated professor. There are even fencing schools
run by women. A noted one \a kept by Madame de
Yalsayne, who some years ago earned notoriety by chal-
lenging Miss Bootii of the Salvation Army to mortal
combat!

A bastard form of the noble art of self-defence, known
as the savatej which consists of boxing with the feet, was
seriously introduced with duly accredited professors some
ten or twelve years ago. It is, no doubt, formidable for
offence, but the defence is deficient It is not likely to
become popular, for the opinion seems to be gaining
ground tiiat it is an unsportsmanlike form of le baxe^
and by most French sportsmen it is considered littie
removed from the acrobatic displays of the caf^s chan-
tants. The best thing that can be said for the savate is
that it is littie more than the rough and tumble street
fight reduced to a rule.

Gymnastics in France is an athletic exercise of recent
growth, and may be said to be one result of the Franco-
German war. ^< The movement, at least in its later and
more considerable development, is entirely patriotic in
character, and is a branch of military training carried
into civil life." Gymnastic societies are to be found
all over France. This eminentiy healthful recreation is
admirably organised and is directiy encouraged by the
state. The Union of Gymnastic Societies has an active
membership of nearly ttiirty tiiousand, and over a hun-

8P0BT8 AND PAaTIMES. 277

dred and fifty provincial cluba are affiliated with it. The
chief founder and principal patron is the recently exfSr
triated patriot, M. Paul Derouldde, of the << League of
Patriots" fame. This league is directly concerned in
the establishment of gymnastic societies, its programme
expressly stating that it was founded <^ for the propagi^
tion and development of patriotic and military education
by books, by songs, by sports, and by gymnastics."

BifleHshooting at the butts has never been so popular
a pastime in France as in England, where tiie volunteer
movement gave a great impetus to civilian rifle-shooting.
There are, however, more rifle clubs not associated with
a scheme of national defence, in France. This is mainly •
due to the efforts of the League of Patriots already re-
ferred to. The great national meeting for this sport is
described in the chapter on parks and public gardens, in
the portion dealing with Yincennes. Bifle-shooting can-
not, however, be considered in France, as in Switserland
or Italy, a national recreation.

The favourite weapon of the French is the pistol, and
the tir au pittolet is a particularly fashionable pastime.
In fact, club men and men of fashion affect the pistol
almost as much as the sword, and a visit to tiie &shion-
able Salle au PitUlet of Gkuitinne-Benette is considered
an indispensable item in the day's social programme.
But, after all, pistol-shooting is tiie amusement of a
limited class, and cannot be considered a national
pastime.

It is a popular fallacy that the only indoor game
(other than card games) which a Fronchman cares
about or understands is tiie somewhat childish game
of dominoes, and playing dominoes at a caf^ is sup-

278 PABia IN ITS aPLBNDOUB.

poaed^ to be the typical Frenchman's recreation. Bil-
liards and chess (admittedly the most intellectual of all
games), are, however, fairly popular with Parisians,
though billiards is not played to anytlung like the
extent it is in London.

It need hardly be said that the cannon and pocketless
game of billiards is here referred to, for except at some
of the big hotels and clubs, there is scarcely a single Eng-
lish billiard-table in Paris. The chief rendezvous of bU-
liards is the Grand Gaf^, where eight fair tables are to
be found. The Roberts of French billiards is Vignaux,
the <^ French billiard king.'' A curious international
match was played some years ago between Roberts and
Vignaux, the respective English and French champions.
In file French game Vignaux conceded half the points
and won easily, while in the English game Roberts gave
the same odds and won with the same ease. A some-
what unsatisfactory way of showing that each was the
best man in his own line. To tiie ordinary player
the scores that can be made at the common game by
players of the first rank are incredible. For instance,
a well-known player called Slosson, in a match against
the French champion, made a break of eleven hundred
consecutive caroms !

Some of the greatest chess masters of the century
have been of French nationality, and at the Gaftf de la
R^gence, in the Place du Th^fttre Fraufais, the Mecca
of chess-players, some of the best professional players in
France are to be met with. This caftf has had a chess
reputation which might almost be called historic. The
table at which Napoleon I., when a poor artillery lieuten-
ant occasionally played, is still preserved. At that time

SPORTS AND PASTIMES. 279

the ctd6 was in the Place du Palais Royal, bat it was
removed to its present site early in the fifties.

The principal headquarters of amateur chess-players
is the Gercle d'&hecs, on the first floor of iSbe Oaf^ de
la Botonde in the Palais Boyal.

OHAFTEB Xm.

SOCIAL PARIS.

Thb social organisation of Paris society under tbe
Third Republic rather defies classification or any at-
tempt at analytic description. Owing to the inevitable
severance of tiie aristocracy and the bureaucracy under
a government which is not in sympathy with the pre-
vailing sentiments of the classes as opposed to the
masses, society (using the word in the conventional sense)
in the capital is in a somewhat anomalous condition.
To a large extent, society in Paris is exotic rather than
indigenous, and most of the social entertaining is left
to the foreign residents in tiiis most cosmopolitan of
European capitals.

In fact, the attitude of tiie aneien noblesse of the Fau-
bourg St Germain to the Palais d'l^lystfe bears a strik-
ing resemblance to that held in Home by the Vatican to
the Quirinal. The Faubourg, the last refuge in Paris of
the anti-Republican party, is rather inclined to hold
itself aloof in its ^splendid isolation." It must be
admitted, however, that the monarchical party is nu-
merically of little importance, though the fact remains
that tiie natural leaders of society refuse for the most
part to recognise the government. The great official
class in France forms a distinct caste, whom the
aristocracy decline, as a rule, to consort with, or even

SOCIAL PABI8. 281

to recognise. A conspiououB example of this is to be
seen occasionally in the provinces, where the prefect,
as the representative of tiie government, is absolutely
tabooed by the local noblesMj tiiongh his official rank
is equivalent to that of a lord lieutenant of an 1g" g?if >»
county.

One consequence of this is that the newer nobility of
file Second Empire, failing the representatives of the old
hiatorical families, have assumed the r61e of champions
of the aristocratic orders in Paris society. These nau-
veaux riches are indeed in their sentiments plu$ royaliHe
que le raiy though their anti-republican sympathies do
not prevent a good deal of social intercourse with the
ruling powers.

Some of the old families have of course gone over to
the republican party, the more noteble examples of
these unregenerate scions of the historic noble houses
being the Marquis de Bochefort-Lufay (Henri Boche-
fort), the Marquis de Talleyrand-P^rigord, and the
Yicomte Louis de Grammont.

It is obvious that the absence of a court makes a con-
siderable difiFerence to the social life of Paris, and many
sigh for a return to the gay and luxurious life under
tiie imperial regime. The receptions at the Palais de
rl^lys^e and the official balls at the H8tel de Yille are,
no doubt, a decided anti-climax after the gorgeous enter-
tainments of the Tuileries. As a member of tiie unfor-
tunate emperor's household observed on hearing the news
of Sedan, ''Cest fini. Mais il faut avoner que pour
vingt ans nous nous sommes diablement amuses I '^

Under the republican regime and with the absence of
a court, society — in tiie limited and conventional sense

282 PABIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

— iB to a certain extent disorganised, and tiiere are no
official or properly accredited leaders. Yet in spite of
these disadvantages (some of them perhaps more senti-
mental than real), Paris contrives to have a season, for
it cannot exist without one. <<The indispensable is
always secured in one way or another, and even sulky
people consent to dine. It is agreed on all hands in
society that there is nothing to live for. Yet sociely
lives all the same, and amuses itself, as amusement is
the law of its being. The only difference is that there
is not now, as heretofore, a common centre of attraction,
but different systems of worlds — a Legitimist, a Repub-
lican, and a Bonapartist society, though the first and
last often meet on the same ground; and, indeed, all
three not infrequently come together under the common
impulse of their love of luxury and mundane pleasure.
There is so much money in Paris that some of it must
be spent ; and if birth, as such, sulked for ever, wealth
would still cry for its feast and dance.''

Paris still maintains its reputation as the vMe de
luace of Europe. As an evidence of the great wealth
of residential Paris it may be mentioned tiiat tiiere are
a thousand houses with a rental of £400 to £600,
while between eight and nine thousand residents have
incomes amounting to £2,000 a year or more.

The season may be said to last from November to the
beginning of June, its close being marked by the Grand
Prix Meeting. It is curious how systematically fiie
society routine is organised. For instance, there is one
day for the Op^ra, one day for the ComMie Fran^aise,
while one day is devoted to the Hippodrome.

Weekly receptions are far more in vogue in Paris

SOCIAL PABia. 283

than in London, and indiscriminate calling is not
encouraged. Every lady with any pretension to being
daiM le mauvement has her set day weekly for ^^ le five
o'clock," to use the bastard vernacular of la vie mon-
dainej and it would be thought an unpardonable want
of savair vivre to call on any other afternoon. In fact
the casual visitor would probably be confronted at the
door with the stereotyped phrase, ^^ Madame ne refoit
pas.^* Some of these weekly receptions are held in the
evening, but these are more formal.

The solan is still an important factor in the social
life of the capitaL The salons, whether political, liter-
ary, or musical, are legion, though we are usually told
that the typical Paris salon is extinct It is true, how-
ever, that their political influence has declined since the
days of the Second Empire, and they are mostly social
receptions and nothing else. Formerly a Paris salon,
which has been defined as a social assemblage of persons
of the same tastes in the drawing-room of a sympathetic
woman, was 9ui generis. The ideal salon has been
thus vividly described:

<<From of old the glory, and certainly flie pride of
France has been the ease and grace, the wit, the wisdom
and the polish of her conversational life. All this finds
expression and free play in the salon, which, to be at its
best, should give us intellect set off by personal charm,
and should substitute a purpose of political, literary, or
other entertainment for the aimlessness of ordinary
drawing-room chat In France the salon has to some
extent forestalled that demand for woman's rights which
is generally no more than a demand to count for some-
thing in the world. A Parisienne in her salon counts

284 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

for very much ; she settleB a good deal there, and the
maxim, eherehez lafemme^ clears up many a mystery in
letters, politics, philosophy, and even finance. Egeria
is no longer to be sought in a cave; she gives little
dinners, or she is accessible at afternoon tea. She is
a trifle exacting ; whatever is said in her drawing-room
must be said cleverly, though it need be well said in no
other sense, and, above all, without loss of time. The
ideal is the perfect union of the/orme with the/oiul, but
there are, of course, many departures from Ihat exalted
standard."

The salon, then, is the peculiar domain of the gentler
sex. As for the men, though they have no salons, they
have their cercles, and no survey of Parisian social life
would be complete without some reference to the leading
Paris clubs.

The original clubs of Paris were purely political
associations, and were the outcome mainly of the
Revolutionary period. Modem clubs are chiefly social
organisations, and are supposed to be based on the
English model. The similarity with English clubs stops,
however, with the club-house and its equipment. There
is an essential difference between a fashionable club in
Paris and in London, and French and English club life
have little in common. The distinction is clearly indi-
cated by the respective names. A club signifies a kind
of cooperative association for the convenience of indi-
viduals, while eercle is merely a gathering of talkers. A
Frenchman does not usually make a second home of his
club or utilise it as an alternative to chambers. Bedrooms
for members are unknown in French clubs, and very few
members dine or lunch at their olnbe. For instance, in

BOCtAL PABI8. 286

one large Paris cerele which haa some twenty-five hun-
dred members, the average nomber at d^je^ner ia about
thirty-five, instead of ten times that number of lunchers
at a London club of the same size. The eerde^ in short,
exists in France for conversation and gambling, but not
for convivial purposes. A French club-man, if he wishes
to offer hospitality to a friend, generally goes to a res-
taurant, and it is rare to find a Parisian use his eerele
as an habitual dining-place, whereas in London many
join a club chiefly for the opportunity afforded of lunch
or dinner comfortably and economically in semi-privacy.
But the points of difference between English and French
club life might be continued indefinitely. It must be
admitted that though the cerele is scarcely a club at all
in the English sense, it is a more sociable institution in
France than in England. There is a kind of eatnaraderie
among the members which is lacking and indeed tacitiy
discouraged in tiie most exclusive London clubs, where a
member would not dream of addressing a fellow member
unless he had already been introduced.

With the French the art of talking is assiduously
cultivated, and conversation is a recreation which it
certainly is not on our side of the Channel, where,
indeed, a club raanUeur is often considered to be a
convertible term for a club bore. Another element
which tends to break down the frozen reserve in which
the Englishman is apt to entrench himself, and which
is partty answerable for the unwritten law of club eti-
quette which forbids any intercourse between members
who are strangers to one another, is the gambling, which
in some eerdee is their chief raimmcTStre.

At most of the Awhionable eerdee baccarat, piquet, or

I
i

SOCIAL PABI8. 287

^^ Daring this period the most conspicuouB omameDt
of the staircase used to be the ^ bouquetiSre hj appoint-
ment' to the cluby a young woman who was making a
handsome fortune out of the generosity of members,
when it was discovered that meanwhile her old mother
had nothing to eat, whereupon the scandalised com-
mittee ordered her off the premises forthwith."

In the entrance hall of the splendid suite of rooms
which the club, after many removals, now occupies at
the comer of the Rue Scribe, may be seen the historic
pair of scales in which several generations of members
have measured their success or non-success in their
struggles against obesity. Many other curiosities are
treasured in the salons, including a collection of amus-
ing sporting sketches by the Marquis de Mun, but these
are not for the profane eyes of non-members, for strangers
are strictly confined to the waiting-room, and not allowed
on any pretext to enter the sacrosanct premises of the
club.

The third of the great clubs of Paris is the Gercle des
Champs ^ys^es (formerly the Imperial). Though it is
now a club mainly devoted to the haute finance^ its mem-
bership roll can boast of as many aristocratic names as
the Union or the Jockey. This club is rather more
hospitable than the two above mentioned, as not only is
there a special dining-room for strangers, but members
are allowed to invite ladies. The club-house has the
pleasantest situation of any in Paris, — at the comer
of the Place de la Concorde and the Rue Boissy d' Anglas,
and from its shady terrace one has delightful views of
the Champs ^ys^es. The house is, in a sense, historic,
it having been apportioned to the Duke of Well-

288 PABI8 IN ITS 8FLEND0UE.

ingtion for his residence, during the occupation of PariB
by the Allies.

Olose by, opposite the Ministry of Marine, is the
popular and decidedly fashionable Nouveau Cercle,
which, if not so aristocratic as the tiiree historic dubs
mentioned above, is very popular with the smart section
of society. It is conducted rather on the lines of the
Raleigh or Bachelors' in London, and is the favourite
resort of the jeunesse dorSe of Paris. It is, practically,
the Cercle de la Rue Royale resuscitated. The noto-
rious card scandals at tiiis club necessitated a self-deny-
ing ordinance on the part of the committee, which
included some of the best known and most influential
members of Paris society. It was found that systematic
cheating had been going on unchecked for a consider-
able period at the baccarat tables by connivance between
some of the members and the card-room employes. One
waiter was arrested in flagrante delicto, and a search
among his boxes resulted in tiie discovery of a large
number of marked packs. After this exposure the only
course was to dissolve the club. Actually, however, little
more tiian the name was altered, for the committee of
the Nouveau Club was, with few exceptions, the same,
and tiiey took with them most of the old members.

The Cercle Agrioole, an old established club of the
highest repute, but characterised by a kind of solid and
dull respectability, is generally known as the Pommes
de Terre. This club, as its name indicates, is the rally-
ing place of the landed interests, — the provincial nobUsuy
which corresponds to our squirearchy.

The well-known Mirlitons is the most typically Pari-
sian of all the Paris clubs, and is a characteristic and

EIFFKL TOWKR.

80CIAL PABia. 289

self-contaiiied Bocietjr rattier inclined to discourage tlie
cosmopolitan tendencies of the fashionable cerdei. It
is a kind of blend of the London, Garrick, and Savile,
and most of tlie leading novelists, artists, and dramatists
are to be found on the list of members. The Mirlitons
may be considered to be the dojfen of the literary and
artistic dtbs which abound in Paris, of which the best
known are the Gercle de la Rue Yolney (&miliarly
known as the Pieds Grottos and sometimes as the
Gr^merie), the Beaux Arts, and the Gercle des Artistes
Dramatiques.

Political clubs, pur et timple, are not very numerous
in Paris, nor do the few that do exist exercise much
influence. Perhaps the partisan sentiments of the vari-
ous political parties find sufficient vent in^ the special
jourualistic organs which represent every shade of
political opinion.

The sporting clubs are numerous. The leading one
is Le Sporting Club, admittance to which is now almost
as difficult as to the Jockey, though it was originally
foui.ded as a kind of overflow house to that famous
club. Other important clubs devoted to various
branches of sport are the Yacht Club, the Alpine Club,
and the recently established but remarkably popular
Automobile Club.

The Automobile is the most successful and the most
fashionable of the newer sporting dubs in the capital.
It occupies magnificent premises on the Place de la
Concorde. It is a combination of several sporting
clubs. There are already between twenty-five hundred
and three thousand members. Both the entrance fee and
the subscription are two hundred francs.

290 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

Most of tiie clubs enumerated above are to a limited
extent gambling clubs, but there are a considerable
number — in spite of the vigilance of tiie police — which
are as much associations formed solely for unlimited
gambling, as the notorious casino which attempts to
hide its raiBon d *itre under the cumbrous but innocent-
sounding title of Soci^t^ Anonyme des Bains de Mer et
du Cercle des Strangers de Monaco. The Parisian is
as inveterate a gambler as the Neapolitan, and a club
where he may essay his veine at baccarat or chemin de
fer is a prime necessity.

The most frequented of the clubs, where play is the
principal attraction, is the Cercle de la Presse on the
Boulevard des Capucines, which has one of the finest
card-rooms of any Paris club. Many men who are
members of the clubs of the first rank — for the Cercle
de la Presse is scarcely one of the aristocratic cerele9 —
join this for the sake of the play. ^^ From about four in
the afternoon to the same hour next morning, allowing
for the interval of dinner, the card-room is crowded
with silent men, many of Hiejn celebrities in literature
and politics, and in fact in every walk of life, for the
Press Club is anything but exclusively professional, in
spite of its name; journalists enjoy the privilege of a
lower subscription, that is all."

At about one o'clock, after the theatres are over,
the club is tiironged, and the supper-room is quite
as gay as that of any of the great boulevard restaurants,
while at two o'clock, when the caf^s close, the club
receives a fresh accession of numbers. It will probably
be four o'clock in the morning before the last bank
at baccarat is formed. No credit is allowed to be given.

SOCIAL PABI8. 291

and each player pays cash for the ivory plaques (each
of which has the value stamped on it), which are
used as counters.

Another place where high play is in vogue is the
Washington, in the Place de I'Op^ra, a club founded
by American residents. It was here that the famous
Mr. Deutsch used to stake enormous sums, on one occa-
sion winning and afterward losing two millions in about
the shortest time on record. There is a well-established
club known as the British Club in the Boulevard des
Capucines, which is, however, strictly confined to tiiose
of British nationality. Here, no games of chance are al-
lowed. The annual subscription is two hundred francs.

Partly owing to the heavy taxes which French clubs
have to pay the state, the annual subscription of the
leading clubs is rather higher in Paris than in London,
varying from two hundred to four hundred francs, while
the entrance fees range from 251 francs at the Mirlitons,
to 1,050 francs at the Jockey Club. But if the charges
are higher it is a question if the individual member does
not get more for his subscription than a London club-
man. At all of the clubs of the first rank, places at first
nights at the leading theatres are reserved ; then several
have admirably equipped fencing-rooms attached, with
professional instructors gratis. Then, what perhaps
particularly appeals to the average clubi$te^ the manage-
ment of most clubs provide an excellent house d^'euner
and dinner below cost price. For instance, the Cercle
de la Rue Yolney charges only four francs (including
wine) for the house dinner. To judge from a specimen
menu this must certainly entail a considerable annual
loss to the club.

292 PAMB IN ITS 8PLBND0UE.

Poiage .

Jnlittime

Mors (TiBuvm

MerUns frits

Enirde

Pardrix anz Chouz

R6H

illet de boonf

Sidades

Laitae Escarole

Legumes

Artichauts aux fines herbes

Entremets

Gftteau d'Amandes

Desserts

At the older dubs like tiie Union and Jockey the
dinner coets from six to seven francs (without wine).

The election of new members is at most clubs in the
hands of the members, and not of the committee. As
a rule one black ball in six is sufficient to exclude,
or, as it is delicately expressed in the French club
yemacular, << adjourn" the candidate. At the Union
and the Jockey the election is even more stringent,
and at the former a candidate would be ^^ pilled" by
one black ball in twelve.

CHAPTER XIV-

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABI&

Thb municipal grieyances of Paris, denied the autonomy
which ia granted to the amalleat and moat obscure com-
mune in France, are serious and of long standing.

They can, however, be more readily appreciated if we
first examine the municipal constitution which prevails
all over France, except in the capital itself.

The commune is the administrative unit, and all,
whether rural or urban, large or small, are, with the
exception of Paris, governed under a uniform system.
About one half of the thirty-six thousand^ communes
into which France is parcelled out, have less than five
hundred inhabitants, while there are not more than some
five hundred and fifty with a population exceeding five
thousand. Each commune has a mayor and deputy
(u(^'<nnt), and a municipal council elected by universal
suffrage. The council elects the mayor and his deputy.
Neither the mayor and his adjoifit nor the members of
the council are paid.

The mayor's functions and duties are mdltif arious, but
clearly defined. As representative of the state he is
responsible for Ihe public safety, organises tiie local
police, and also acts as registrar of births, marriages,

1 One commone, Morteso, in the Depsitmeni of Haota ICsnie, has
only twelve inhabitants.

294 PABI8 IN ITS aPLENBOUB.

and deaths. But the mayor is mainly regarded as the
head of the commune. He has the control of the munic-
ipal council under the general supervision of the ious-
pr^fet of the arrondissement. A distinction must be
drawn between prefects, sub-prefects, and mayors with
regard to their relations with the government. The
prefect is regarded as a political officer, while the mayor
is primarily a municipal officer. Thus, at the time of the
invasion by the Prussians in 1870, the prefects retired as
the troops advanced, while the mayors remained.

The principal duty of the municipal commune is to
fix the communal budget, which has, however, to be
approved by the prefect.

The commune, though hampered by the stringent
tutelage of the central authority at Paris, is still, to a
large extent, a real focus of local life. '<Its activity
touches everything ; means of communication, popular
education, religious questions, economic questions, are,
all alike, within its province, and with time it will cer-
tainly become the best educational instrument of the
democracy."

The French pencharit for centralisation in all depart-
ments of the state is well exemplified in the municipal
administration, each conunune by a regular chain of
subordinate authorities being, at all events in theory, in
direct touch with the Minister of the Interior. A certain
number of the communes (usually twelve or thirteen) are
included in a canton. The principal commune (chef lieu
du canton) is the seat of a Juffe de paixj and its mayor
takes precedence of those of the other communes. The
canton is the electoral unit for the council-general of the
department.

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PARI8. 295

Next in this chain of administrative jurisdiction is
the arrondissement', under a iotis-prSfet (appointed hj the
Minister of the Interior), which is composed of a certain
number of cantons. This also has a council, in which
each canton is represented by a delegate. The func-
tions of the 9<m^prifet are unimportant; he is little
more than the vehicle of communication — sometimes
derisively termed a ^ letter-box " — between the cantons
and the prefecture.

Lastiy we come to the department, the first great
administrative division in France, under a prefect,
nominated by the Minister of the Interior. There are
eighty-five departments in Continental France, not in-
cluding tiie Algerian departments. The prefect is to
some extent controlled by the council-general, which is
elected by universal suffrage at the rate of one member
for each canton.

These councils-general are intended to serve as a check
on the central executive authority and to a certain extent
replace the old provincial parliaments. The sessions take
place twice a year and are of ^ full right," which means
that they are convoked independently of any authority,
— <^ a provision against executive usurpation character-
istic of the whole French Constitution as framed under
the Republic." Under a change of ministry all the
prefects and sub-prefects are liable to be changed too,
and usually are, but even a emp d^Sttxt cannot dissolve
the council-general, as it is expressly enacted that if the
Chamber be illegally dissolved, the council-general must
immediately meet and elect an Assembly to take their
place. It is true that the President is empowered to
dissolve the councils-general, but as this can only be

296 PABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

done gradually, council by council, and as he must alao
give Parliament hia reasons, it will be perceived that the
councils are safeguarded from any arbitrary exercise of
the central authority. Their chief duty is to allot the
amount of state taxes among the arrondissements, whose
councils in turn distribute it among the communes.

The powers and privileges of the prefect are, however,
still considerable, and are exercised in his twofold
capacity of representative of the central power, and
executive minister of the council-general.

The department and the commune are the two really
important administrative divisions of France. Each of
them is to a large extent a real centre of local life, each
having a budget and a certain amount of autonomy.
The arrondissements and cantons are, on the other hand,
mere artificial divisions with little real individuality ; in
fact, the suppression of the arrondissements has been
seriously contemplated.

The foregoing summary will show the strong hold the
centralising principle has upon French sentiment

The obvious result is to give the capital an altogether
disproportionate influence and authority in France. As
soon as an order is issued from the central authority it
can be almost instantaneously carried out in the most
remote parts of the country. Consequently it has often
needed only a coup de main at Paris for all France to
change front Again, as M. Lebon points out in his
monograph on the French Constitution, the government,
by virtue of its omnipresent and subservient officials of
all grades, having at its doors the machinery of govern-
ment of the most remote commune, has been led to act
as if it were omnipotent, and to commit excesses which

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABI8. 297

have led to revolutions. ^* At the present day, when the
nation can make its voice heard either by Parliament or
by local councils, — which are also organised on the
basis of universal suffrage, — the danger is in some
degree lessened ; the government can stop in time when
it finds it is on a bad tack. But the danger, neverthe-
less, has not yet completely disappeared, and the time
must be contemplated when the administrative frame-
work, which was created by absolutism, and has become
too narrow for new political habits, will have to be mod-
ified."

In Paris the municipal system is absolutely excep-
tional, and the capital is lacking in the first elements of
civic independence. In theory Paris is merely one of
the 86,000 communes into which France is divided,
although it contains rather more than a fifteenth of the
whole population. But though it is nominally a com-
mune, it is deprived of most of the liberties and rights
which are possessed by the smallest commune in France.
However, the agitation for the right of the capital to
govern itself grows apace, and it is probable that the
next century will see the removal of most of the start-
ling anomalies in the municipal organisation of France.

It must be remembered, too, that one important stage
in the path of municipal reform has already been
reached, for since 1871 the municipal council has been
made elective. Up to that date the councillors were
the nominees of the state.

The Paris mayoralty is, like the English Admiralty,
practically in commission, the Prefect of the Depart-
ment of the Seine and the Prefect of Police (both
appointed by the Minister of the Interior) sharing be-

298 PARIS IK ITS 8PLXND0UB.

tween them the duties and powers of the office. The
former has the Hdtel de ViUe as his headquarters, —
greatly to the disgust of the municipal council, — and
the latter is installed at the prefecture, next to the
Palais de Justice.

The Council-General of the Seine is composed of the
municipal council of Paris, with eight councillors elected
by the eight suburban cantons included in the two ar-
rondissements of Sceaux and St. Denis. But, like the
municipal council, the departmental council has more
restricted powers than those possessed by other councils*
general. They are not, for instance, allowed to raise
a loan.

Even the sectional mayors, that is, the mayors of
the twenty municipal arrondissements into which Paris
is divided, are appointed by the state, and these func-
tionaries are little more than public registrars. They
are not even allowed to become members of the munic-
ipal council.

The municipal council is elected by universal suffrage
in the proportion of one member for each of the eighty
quarters of Paris (each arrondissement being divided
into four electoral divisions). But the popular princi-
ple of scrutin de luUj t. «., each person voting for all
the eighty vacancies, which obtains throughout France
in municipal elections, is denied to the Parisians. They
have to vote by serutin d arrondissement^ t. e., for the
one member only of their particular quarter. The rea-
son of this restriction is that otherwise the radical
majority of the council would probably be enormously
increased. It is, in short, a device for ensuring the
adequate representation of the minority.

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PARIS. 299

The municipal council is merely a deliberative and
consultative body, all executive being in the hands of
the two prefects, who are quite irresponsible to their
council. <^ The object of the whole arrangement is, of
course, to clip the wings of Paris for such attempted
flights over all France as she took in 1789 and 1792, to
say nothing of 1870. The city tried to usurp authority
over the country, and, in revenge, the country denies
her authority over herself." Her more modest ambition
is now << communal independence, or the power of trying
all sorts of little social experiments within her own
borders, secure of interference from without The set-
tled object of all state policy since Napoleon I., and one
may say since the Convention before him, has been to
prevent any impulse toward communal independence,
whether at the expense of the country or the capital,
and to make Paris march, step by step, with the rest of
Prance."

The sessions of the council are virtually permanenti
as they sit all the year round, except during the vaca-
tion from the end of August to the beginning of October.
For the permanent routine work of the city the council
is divided into seven committees, while work of an
occasional character is allotted to seven more. ^ Among
the former is a permanent commission for architecture
and the fine arts, which may help to account for the
seeming miracle of the beauty of the Paris streets."

The budget of the VUle de Parti is laid by the pre-
fect before the council for its approval, but its powers
are limited to discussion ; it cannot refuse the essential
supplies or raise new loans. The principal portion
of the revenue of Paris, which of recent years has

300 PABia nr rra splxndoub.

amounted to nearly ten million poonda, ia derived from
the oetrin.

The octroi ia a local cnatoma duty on articlea (chiefly
artidea of conaumption) entering Paria, and ia levied
at a chain of cuatom-houaea at the barriera. <<Thia
cruel tax makea Paria a terrible foater-mother to the
needy/' and, owing to the incidence of the tax, the poor
are actually more heavy loaera than the rich. For
inatance, the duty on wine ia levied on the quatititjfj
not on the qualitjfj ao that the poor man paya just
aa much on hia bottle of petit bleuj aa Divea on his
bottle of Chftteau-Margauz. The octroi recdpta now
amount annually to a aum equivalent to aeventy franca
per head of the population of Paria. Drinka yield most,
then ediblea, and next fuel. Nothing aeema to eacape ;
even wood used for manuf acturea ia heavily taxed. The
proceeda of the octroi amount to more than half of
the total municipal revenue. The chief itenu of expendi-
tare are the intereat on the enormoua debt, which ia over
eighty million pounds. We may compare thia with the
debt of London, which, in 1899, amounted to over forty-
three million pounda, aecured at the ratea, and involving
an annual charge, of nearly two milliona and three-
quarters. Then there are a99i9itanee pubUque (hoapitala,
charitiea), which average twenty million franca, police,
about twenty-five million franca, and education about
the aame. The peraonnel of the great apending
departmenta ia appointed by the prefect, but the
director of public worka ia nominated directly by the
government

But perhapa the greatest grievance of the munici-
pality ia the complete independence of the prefect

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PAMI8. 301

of police. His position is perhaps more enviable tiian
that of any other great functionary. He gets his supplies
voted him as a right by the comicil, to whom he is not
responsible, while he is not dependent for the mainte-
nance of his police npon the Parliament, to whom he
is responsible. He has practically the fullest discretion
as to what cases he shall bring before the courts, or try
by summary process by his agents, the commissaries
of police. He has seven hundred thousand francs for
secret service expenses, and to pay his huge staff of
spies. It is not surprising that the relations between this
important official and the municipal council are usually
strained. « He attends their sessions by right, and he
occasionally offers explanations as to the doings of his
eight thousand agents, though more out of good nature
than as a matter of obligation. If the council blame
him, he will probably attend the next sitting with a
ministerial decree annulling the vote. For all this, they
often make his position untenable by sheer force of
worry. One prefect after another has had to go in this
way, and the latest victim of note was M. Andrieux,
who undertook to show the world how to keep the
council in hand.**

The Paris police force consists of three hundred
agents of security with the titie of inspector, and the
municipal police (called gardim% de paix)y some eight
thousand in number, so familiar to all visitors to Paris,
with their military caps and tunics, their light boots, and
smart-looking short cloaks, which give them the appear-
ance of troops on a campaign. A legion of gendarmerie,
officially termed the Oarde B^publicaine, is also attached
to the prefecture for the purpose of keeping order in

302 PARIS IN ITS aPLKNDOUB.

Paris^ The gendannerie, however, still belongs to the
regular army, and is, indeed, a eorp% dCSlite.

It will be seen then that the party of mnnicipal
reform, which includes many members of the Chamber
of Deputies as well as of the municipal council, have a
strong case. The aims of this party are mainly directed
to abolishing the supremacy of the prefect in favour of a
mayor of Paris, elected, as in all other communes,
by the municipal council, the right of the council to
the control of the police, the levying and collection
of the communal taxes, the council to be increased
from eighty to one hundred and fifteen members, the
mode of election to be by 9crutin de lute. In short,
the progressivists simply demand that Paris in its
municipal organisation should be assimilated with all
the other communes. It is true that some of these
reforms were embodied in the municipal law of 1884,
which redressed some of these grievances so far as
they affected the provinces, and by this law Lyons
regained its municipal liberties (which had long been
denied this city alone of all the great towns of France),
but by a special provision Paris was expressly excluded
from the operation of the law.

The practical and non-political results of such a
reform would, it is contended, be immediate and of the
greatest benefit The gas and water monopolies would
be abolished, and these primary necessaries of life would
be obtainable at a reasonable price. At present gas
costs about thirty centimes per cubic metre, whereas
in London the same quantity costs one half of this price.
The great omnibus company, which has so long exer-
cised the usual tyranny of a monopoly, would be

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABI8. 303

compelled to come to terms with the exceedingly long-
Buffering Parisians. The walls of Paris — admittedly
valaelesB as a means of defence — would be levelled,
and the sites used for workmen's dwellings, which would
reduce the enormous rents the working classes of
Paris have to pay within the barriers.

Such are a few of the improTcments which would
result from a thorough municipal reform.

Having thus briefly described the French local and
municipal institutions, it may be convenient to sunmiarise
here the main features of the Constitution of the French
Bepublic. The French Constitution dates only from
1875, for though it has been twice revised, it has not
been substantially altered.^

The main principle of the new Constitution was that
sovereignty rested in the nation, represented by Parlia-
ment and President.

The President is elected by ballot for seven years by
both chambers sitting jointiy in an electoral college at
Versailles.' The President, who is irresponsible, except
for treason against the Bepublic, has the appointment
of all ministers who sit in Parliament and are responsible
to it The Presidents powers, are, in theory, far greater
than those of an English premier, for instance. He has
the right of pardon and the control of the army and navy
(though he cannot declare war without the chambers).
He nominates aU military, civil, and legal officers.

1 The only important alterations were: (1) the seat of gOTemment
was transferred from Versailles (the capital from 1871) to Paris in
1879 ; (2) all members of royal families which had once reigned in
France were excluded from both chambers.

'The only other occasion when the two chambers meet at Ver-
sailles is when changes in the Constitution are being discussed.

304 PAB18 IN ITS 6PLEND0UE.

Finally, be can dissolve the chambers at the request of
the Senate.

The Parliament consists of the Senate and the Cham-
ber of Deputies.

The Senate is chosen by an electoral body consisting of
(1) deputies (2) councillors-general and district coun-
cillors (arrondissement), (8) delegates chosen by the
municipal councils, each commune being entitied to a
certain number, according to population. As these
delegates form the great majority, the Senate has been
called the ^ Grand Council of the Communes of France.''
The number of senators is three hundred.

The Chamber of Deputies consists of 684 members
elected for four years by universal suffrage. (For addi-
tional details see Palais Bourbon chapter.) The parlia-
mentary session lasts about five months from the second
Tuesday in January.

Legislative initiation belongs jointiy to the chambers
and the President

It should be observed that parliamentary institutions
in one important respect differ considerably from those
obtaining in Great Britain.

The great difference from the English system is that
in France, while the executive has been avowedly subor-
dinated to the legislature in political affairs, in adminis-
tration it is practically independent

The French legal system is simple and consistent, and,
on the whole, well adapted to the wants of the nation.

With the exception of the juge9 de paixj all judges
are irremovable. On the other hand, they are, in the
ordinary course, retired when they have reached the
limit of age. They are appointed and promoted by

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABIS. 305

the head of the state. Their salaries vary from £72
0'u9^ de paix) to £1,200 (president of the Coar de Cas-
sation). Every coart has both criminal and civil juris-
diction. The Correctional Court (t.e., court of first
instance for criminal jurisdiction) tries crimes and mis-
demeanours. The Court of Appeal hears appeals from
the Correctional Courts. The Cour de Cassation (see
below) has jurisdiction in criminal as well as civil cases.

There never is a jury for civil cases. In criminal
cases there is one, but onlj at the assizes. The verdict
is by ballot, and a majority decides. There are always
at least three judges.

The principle of the law is that every case may be
heard by at least two courts. If a case has been heard
by the juge de paixj appeal may be made to the court
of first instance of the arrondissement If the latter
has tried it in the first place, the appeal goes to the
Court of Appeal. The Court of Appeal, or that of first
instance when acting as appeal court, can review the
decision of the court below, both as to law and to fact

The Court of Cassation never gives the ultimate de-
cision as to a case. It never pronounces on a question
of fact, but only on the point of law, or on the compe-
tence of the court which gave the original decision.
Any decision, civil or criminal, even those of the Assize
Courts, can be brought before it in the last resort, and
if it pronounces cassation, it remits the examination of
the case to another court of the same order as that
whose decision it has annulled.

In short, to compare the French with the English
legal procedure, the Court of Cassation combines the
functions of the Supreme Court of Appeal of the House

306 PARIS IN ITS aPLENBOUB.

of Lords for civil cases, and the Court for Consideration
of Crown Cases Reserved in criminal cases.

The Court of Cassation has three divisions, Court of
Petitions (Chawlbrt den ReqaMt%\ the Civil Court, and
the Criminal Court.

Civil appeals go first before the Court of Petitions,
and unless rejected there, are sent on to the Civil Court,
but criminal appeals go directlj before the Criminal
Court

This distinction between the ordinary Courts of Ap-
peal and the Court of Cassation to many foreigners
seems an unnecessary refinement of jurisdiction. It is
certainly not well understood, which accounts for the
extraordinarily inaccurate statements on French pro-
cedure that appeared in the English press during the
notorious Dreyfus case.

There remains an extraordinary tribunal to be no-
ticed in this sketch of the French legal machinery,
known as the Council of State. Considered historically
it might almost be said to be a revival of the peculiar
council founded by Napoleon when First Consul, and
suppressed by him in 1807. It has been defined as a
kind of guardian of the administration, and is intended
to defend and preserve its rules and traditions. It is
also a consultative and deliberative council, and gives its
advice on all administrative schemes submitted to it by
the President, the ministers, or the chambers. It also
acts as a kind of supreme court of appeal and arbitrar
tion on cases which are outside the jurisdiction of the
ordinary courts, such as disputes between members of
the administration, or between the administration and
the public. In short, it may be said to combine the

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABIS. 307

functions of the English Privy Goancil and the Judicial
Committee of the House of Lords. It is composed of
councillors nominated by the President, and presided
over by the minister of justice.

The Court of Assize, as in Great Britain, has no in-
dependent or continuous existence of its own. It is
merely a temporary emanation from the Court of Ap-
peal. It sits as a rule at the chief town of the depart-
ment, and is presided over by a judge from one of the
Courts of Appeal. This court has only criminal juris-
diction, and always tries cases with a jury of twelve
persons. The procedure of a trial by assize is graphic-
ally described below by an anonymous writer :

<* The prisoner is brought into court, as it seems, from
the depths of the earth, by a winding staircase. His
first proceeding is invariably to blink in the glaring
light On his way he has seen his counsel, and wit-
nessed the drawing by lot of his own particular jury.
All in court rise on the entry of the judges. The
clerk reads the names of the jury ; the judge reads the
oath, a rather long one, which each juror takes in his
turn. The severity of the French form of procedure
as against the prisoner is well known. . • . The
judge hardly pretends to be absolutely impartial as
between the accused and his official accuser, and he is
by no means to countenance a severe cross-examination
of witnesses for the prosecution. The court formerly
had the last word, in the summing-up of the whole
case by the judge, but this has been suppressed, and
now the last word is with the prisoner. The jury,
however, is there to redress the balance on the side of
the accused. Jurors are usually tender for crimes due

308 FABia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

to pasgion or sudden feeling, and severe for crimes of
premeditation."

In reports of criminal trials one oonstantlj comes across
references to the juge cPtnstruetion^ whose fonctions are
quite distinct from those of the Juge de paiz. One is
attached to each court of first instance. His function
is to conduct the preliminary inquiry into crimes, and
his duties correspond in part to those of a coroner in
England, or procurator-fiscal in Scotland.

The courts are distributed as follows. In each canton
there is a juge de paixj but in Paris there is one for
each of the twenty municipal arrondissements. In each
arrondissement there is a court of first instance. There
are Courts of Appeal in Paris, and in twenty-five prin-
cipal towns (generally the towns which were the seats
of the old provincial parliaments), for there is not a
Court of Appeal for each department Then at Paris
is the Cour de Cassation, with supreme appellate juris-
diction over all the courts of France.

The juge de paix combines the functions of our
county court judge and justice of the peace. He is,
of course, the creation of the Revolution, and the logical
outcome of its ruling maxims, — liberty, fraternity, and
equality, — which were bound to transfer the right of
administering justice from a privileged class to respon-
sible paid servants of the state. These humble func*
tionaries represent the lowest grade in the chain of
jurisdictions which culminates in the Cour de Cassation.
They are appointed directly by the President of the
republic. The stipends are slight, varying from three
to four thousand francs. The functions of these rural mag-
istrates are simple, — ^*to assist, conciliate, and decide''

MUNICIPAL AND LXQAL PABI8. 309

is the Bomewhat general interpretation in the code, —
bat, though theoretically strictly defined, in practice tiie
duties cannot be all classed under any special category.
Inasmuch as his business is occasionaUy executive, — for
instance, he is expected to conduct inquiries on behalf of
the government on proposed administrative measures, —
his office somewhat resembles that of officers of the
Indian Civil Service, who undertake administrative as
well as judicial business.

But tiie chief and ordinary duties of a Juge de paix
are to act as mediator in disputes, rather than to judge
them. He presides over oomeih de famUU^ — an
institution peculiar to the paternal government of a
republic, — seals up the effects of deceased persons, and
in serious crimes which occur in the canton (averaging
twelve or thirteen communes) over which his jurisdic-
tion extends, he acts as preliminary investigating magis-
trate. He is empowered to try petty offenders, and can
imprison for a short period, or inflict fines up to two
hundred francs. It will be seen, then, that this useful
functionary plays a leading part in the rural economy
of France. Indeed, the juge de paix is as familiar a
character in French fiction dealing with country life, as
the village notary, curtf, or doctor.

In Miss Betham-Edwards's interesting studies of pro-
vincial life in France, an instructive picture is given of
the day's routine at one of these rural magistrate's courts.
^ At 9 A. M. we ascend the handsome staircase of the
Hdtel de Ville and enter the judge's court with white-
washed walls and large windows opening pleasantiy into
the market-place. Above the chair of office — a fact to
be specially noticed — hangs a crucifix. In the centre,

310 PABI8 IN ITS aPLENDOVB.

facing the audience, sits the juge de paix wearing his
robe of office, black advocate's gown with white lappets
at throat, and high-orowned hat with silver band, which
may be worn or not at pleasure. On days of ceremony
a blue badge is worn. On his right, also wearing judi-
cial bat and gown, sits the greffier, or clerk, on the left
the suppliant or coadjutor, the last mentioned an unpaid
official, who represents the public prosecutor. By the
judge lies a copy of the French code. This is not used
by witnesses, the simple and dignified formula exacted
of witnesses on oath being merely <^ By God, man, and
the truth'' (jt>ar Dieuj les hommeSj et la viritS), Op-
posite the table is a small space railed off for those
cited to appear, or appearing on their own account.
Behind are a few seats for lookers-on.

^ What a study for an artist this shrewd old farmer in
blue blouse now pleading his own cause ! The bone of
contention is a certain contract, and he is there to show
that the other contracting party has not fulfilled his ob-
ligations. His keen, vivacious eyes and weather-beaten
features display extraordinary varieties of expression.
At one moment he gloats over the assurance that he has
convinced the judge and carried his point The next he
casts a withering glance at finding himself imperfectly
understood. The arguments are gone over again and
again with renewed vehemence, the judge and his com-
panions listening with exemplary patience and composure.
At last he is requested to listen in turn, the judge simply
bidding him to appear with certain documents at the
next sitting, when the verdict of the law will be de-
livered. With a parting burst of eloquence for the
benefit of the audience, and evidently sure of ultimate

MUNICIPAL AND LEGAL PABI8. 311

victory, the picturesque old fellow takes his departure.
The politeness displayed was gratifymg to witness.

<^ Next stood up two disputants unable to agree as to
the boundary marks of their possessions ; one, a grave,
taciturn man of middle age, the other, young, smart,
and ready to say on his own behalf all and more than
the judge could hear. The affair was promptly disposed
ol On that day fortnight, at 8 a. m., the litigants were
bidden to appear with their title deeds on the contested
borderland, when the rival claims would be adjusted by
the judge in person."

The description in the foregoing pages furnishes only
the barest outline of French legal machinery, but it is,
perhaps, sufficient to enable a -stranger to follow the
ordinary procedure of a court of justice.

CHAPTER XV.

BOMB 8IDB- SHOWS OP PABIB.

Thbbb are certain popular sights of Paris which the
superior visitor is accustomed to ignore as merely vulgar
or frivolous. These shows, the Morgue, the catacombs,
the Muste Or6vin, etc., constitute, indeed, what the
severe and intolerant followers of the Buskin cult will
no doubt stigmatise as ** vulgar Paris." As, however,
no study of Paris can be considered complete which
does not contain some reference to these recognised
sights of the capital, I need offer no apology for a brief
allusion to these spectacles.

The small building, which bears a curious superficial
resemblance to a Oreek temple, hidden away behind
Notre Dame, is the Morgue. Morbid ourioeity is, no
doubt, the magnet which attracts strangers as powerfully
as Parisians, but whether we deprecate it or not, the
fact remains that the Morgue is one of the most popu-
lar sights in Paris. This unpretending and innocent-
looking little Doric building has been immortalised by
Browning tn one of his finest poems :

** First eame the silent gasers ; next,
A screen of glass, we're thankful for ;
Last, the sight's self, the sermon's text,
The three men who did most abhor
sis

THE COLUMN OF JULY, 1830 (COLOXNE DE JUILLET).

aoMs aiBE^BHOwa of PABia. S13

Their life in Paris yesterday.
So killed themBelvee : and now, enthroned

Each on his copper conoh, they lay
Fronting me, waiting to be owned.
I thought, and think, their sin's atoned.

« Poor men, God made, and all for that I
The reverence stmck me ; o'er each head

Religiously was hung its hat.

Each coat dripped by the owner's bed.

Sacred from touch : each had his berth,
His bounds, his proper place of rest,

Who last night tenanted on earth
Some arch where twelve such slept abreast, —
Unless the plain asphalts seemed best."

The Morgue was originally a portion of the Orand
Gbfttelet, where new prisonera were carefully inspected
(hence the name, from motyuer). The registera show-
ing the number of bodies received daily, which have
been kept with the most meticulous exactitude, form a
kind of lethal thermometer of Paris, and are a striking
commentary on the social history of the capital. For
instance, one of the ^ Three Glorious Days of July,**
1880, is significantly marked in the Morgue register by
the entry of ^^ 101 corps," with eaup de feu mentioned
as the cause of death.

This ^^Chapelle d'Ardente of crime and misfortune"
is open to the public all day long. The chattering
crowds pouring in and out the main entrance doors of
this municipal charnel-house are an indication that the
dalles are fully tenanted. Zola's description of this
gruesome spot is familiar to many. ^ The Morgue is a
spectacle open to all purses, and tiie door lies open for
every comer. Many habitnte of the Morgue go far out

814 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

of their way in order not to miss one of these death
spectacles. When the slabs are bare the spectators
retire disappointed, muttering, feeling themselves de-
frauded of a show. When the benches are occupied,
and when there is a beautiful display of corpses, the
visitors press in in crowds, and do not scruple to give
vent to their pleasurable emotions, almost applauding as
at an actual theatre. When satisfied with the spectacle,
they retire well pleased, declaring that the Morgue < est
r^ussie, ce jour-la. "

Even when all the dalles are tenanted, there is noth-
ing physically objectionable to the sightseer, owing to
the lowering of the temperature, the bodies being ex-
posed to fifteen degrees of frost

The authorities now place the victims of sensational
murders or suicides, and generally all identified bodies,
in a chamber, and the public are not allowed to, see
them.

A portion of the Morgue is now devoted to a kind of
asylum for stray dogs, in which the most important part
of the establishment is the lethal chamber. The heca-
tomb of dogs in what has been aptly called La Petite
Boquette des Ghiens, amounts to between five and six
thousand a year.

A favourite excursion is that through the catacombs.

Though the quarries which form the site of the
catacombs are sufficiently ancient, having been worked
by the Romans, yet as catacombs they are comparatively
modem.

The necessity of the removal of the Cemetery of the
Innocents, which by 1786 had become urgent, was
''iTh^rteeBaqoin.**

BOMX 8IDE-8H0W8 OP PAMI8. 315

the reaaon of converting these ancient quarries into
the great municipal ossuary. The work of transfer-
ring the bones (for all recently buried were reinterred
in other cemeteries) to the ancient quarries was carried
on continuously for fifteen months. This translation
having been so successfully carried out, other Paris
cemeteries to the number of sixteen were in like manner
removed between 1792 and 1814. It has been calculated
that the bones of over three million persons are buried
in the catacombs. In the arrangement of the supporting
pillars, walls, and doorways, there has been some attempt
at an architectural effect. The galleries and corridors
are lined with walls composed of bones and skulls,
and a weird decorative note is given to the galleries
by a continuous cornice of grinning skulls.

The burying-places of celebrities pointed out by the
guides are not authentic, and, indeed, very little is known
of any of the three million persons buried here. For
instance, the sepulchre of the ill-fated poet, Oilbert,
is generally pointed out to visitors as the actual tomb
simply because some lines from Oilberf s best-known
poem have been roughly inscribed on the wall. The
lines so often quoted are as follows:

« Au banquet de la vie, inf ortond convive,
. J'apparuB an jour, et je mean ;
Je meura, et sur la tombe oil lentement j'arrive
Nol ne viendra verser dee pleura t "

As a matter of fact, there are no tombs, death in this
vast subterranean cemetery being a true leveller, there
being nothing to distinguish the remains. Occasionally
some accidental resemblance to a monument, suggested

316 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLXND0UB.

by some pillar or projection of the wall, has caiuied tbe
name of tomb to be given to it

Though the visit to the catacombs seems at the outset
a commonplace trip enough, as we join the queue of
light-hearted sightseers and holiday-makers at the en-
trance to the catacombs, in the Place Denf ert Bochereau,
yet the visit is an interesting, and to the imaginative
tourist, even a weird experience.

<*We move on again, and lo! the rocks on either
hand contract, change colour, break out into the gme-
some design of a symmetrically built wall of bones and
skulls. From the level of our heads down to the level
of our feet, skull rests upon skull, and leans back against
the myriad bones behind.'' ^

Through these ghastiy, densely populated corridors
the file of sobered sightseers winds steadily, the candle
occasionally revealing glimpses of sepulchral mottoes
and maxims rudely inscribed on the walls, until the
^^ Grand Ossuaire " is reached. <^ Here the designs in
skulls and bones become more complicated, the walls
become more lofty, rush from straight lines into curves,
assume the form of chapels! Around and about you
are skulls, skulls, skulls. . . . But even as you dream
or gibe, according to temperament, in one of these
chapels, a faint prolonged rustic comes stealing to the
ear, swells and falls, and vanishes mysteriously as
it came. The guide catches an inquiring eye, and
explains, with a wealth of incisive gesture, that it is
the rats moving!"

It is these rats, rather than hunger or exhaustion,
which constitute the chief danger of any person, who
iNielWynn WilUams.

SOME 8IDX-8H0WB OF PABI8. 317

Bhould be unfortunate enough to lose himself in the
labyrinthine mazes of this subterranean ohamel-house.
The guides are fond of telling visitors of the terrible
fate which befell a party of communist insurgents,
who, after the fall of Fort Yanves, fled to the catacombs
as the one refuge from the avenging hosts of Versailles,
only to die a horribly lingering death in this subterranean
necropolis. The vivid and picturesque words of the
attendant, which lose nothing by the environment, recon-
struct the scene for his hearer. ^' In thought he takes
us with the panic-stricken soldiers into the labyrinth.
We feel a feverish fear of pursuit driving us farther
and farther into the secretive gloom. A halt — and
our labourmg hearts grow calmer amidst the silence
that yields no shout, no mufBed footfall of pursuer.
But our torches consume faster and faster away; we
must again seek light of day. Yet how ! Everywhere,
road across road, silent skull by silent skull, with
never a due to the open air, to the living world above.
Again panic seizes us; we run, run madly with many
a stumble, for life. Exhaustion finds us alone, our
comrades gone, our torch, guarded with trembling
hand, burning low. We hear the rats gathering in
their hordes outside the pale of kindly merciful light.
They throw down a skull that rolls heavily to our feet
The Ught ..."

The lugubrious impression of this moving recital
is, however, quickly dissipated, and sudden is the transi-
tion as we reach the place of exit in the Rue Dareau,
between the bustiing, roaring, commonplace life of
tiie boulevards, and the silence, gloom, and gruesome
associations of the capital's great charnel-house.

318 PABIB IN ITS SPLEKDOUB.

Very different in character is another subterranean
excursion frequently made by tourists.

The broad horseshoe-shaped subterranean highways
which duplicate below the surface many of the great
boulevards of Paris are not only sewers but serve as
means of conducting the telegraph and telephone cables,
the pneumatic tubes and other public services connected
with the communicating agencies of Paris.

In consequence of the important part they play in the
municipal life, the sewer tunnels are on a much larger
scale than in London.

The trip through the Paris Sgouts may, indeed, though
of course of special interest to engineers and those con-
cerned with sanitation, offer certain picturesque features.
At all events, the passing through the silent subterra-
nean boulevards and canals, with no sign but a curious
rumbling to show that only a few feet above one's head
is the teeming city of Paris, is likely to impress the
imaginative tourist

The public visits to the sewers take plac^^ usually,
fortnightly during the summer months^ and the Admin-^
istrateurs of the ^auU (a word less unpleasantly sugg^tr
ive to English ears than the ill-sounding word, sewer)
usually provide for a hundred visitors each time. The
visitors are taken in miniature trams pushed by the em*
ploy^s of the Sgouts. There is no disagreeable smell,
and, except for the sound of flowing water^ one might
be in a railway tunnel. The usual itinerary is from the
Place du Chfttelet to the Place de la Concorde, Here
the " carriages " are quitted for little boats which rapidly
take the visitors to the Place de la Uudeleijie and the
trip is over.

SOME 8IDE'8H0W8 OF PABI8. 319

The principle of flushing the sewero is simple but
highly effective. Moveable barrages are used which,
when driven by any sudden rush of water, push before
them any accumulation of solid matter.

The system of drainage in Paris is very carefully and
clearly explained in the following description taken from
Baedeker's " Guide to Paris : "

^ The total length of the network of sewers of Paris is
now about 766 miles, most of them having been con-
structed under the direction of M. Belgrand since 1852.
Not less than 160 miles remain still to be made. The
aggregate length of the sewers when finished will thus
be greater than the distance from Paris to Madrid (nine
hundred miles), about twenty-one hours' journey by
railway. In 1887 there were only forty miles of sewers,
and in 1856 only one hundred mile& The average cost
of these huge works is one hundred francs per metre
(nearly four livres per yard). The basin in which the
city lies is divided into four parts by two large sewers
at right angles with the Seine, and running under the
Boulevard de S^bastopol and Boulevard St Michel
respectively. These, which flow, not into the river, but
into eight channels parallel with it (known as SgiatUs
coUecteurs), are augmented by twelve or fifteen tribu-
taries, which in their turn receive the contents of
numerous smaller drains.

<' The eollecteurs of the right bank empty themselves
into the CoUecteur GSnSral d ^AmiStet^ below the Place
de la Concorde, which conducts the water far below
Paris, to be there used for irrigation. This main drain
carries off about 840,000 cubic feet of water per hour,
but it is capable of passing twice that qoantity. In

320 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

consequence, however, of the popular abuse of the con-
venience of the drains, it was found necessary to construct
a second main drain, the OoUeeteur CUntral de OUehy^
which also begins at the Place de la Concorde. In
order to connect the eoUeeteutB of the left bank with the
rest of the system, a siphon, consisting of two iron pipes
(170 yards long and tiiree feet in diameter), was con-
structed below the Seine above the Pont de PAlma, and
the coUeeteuTi are continued on tiie right bank, at a depth
of about one hundred feet to join the OoUeeUur d ^Amni^e:
A similar siphon, six feet in diameter, was constructed
in 1895-96 under the Seine above the Pont de la Con-
corde. The sewers of the Cittf and St. Louis islands are
connected in the same way with the eoUeeteuri giniraux.
The smallest of tiiese channels are about seven feet high
and four feet wide, the largest sixteen feet high by eight-
een feet wide. All the drains are constructed of solid
masonry, and lined with hydraulic cement The eoUee-
teurt are flanked with pavements or ledges, between
which the water runs, and above one or hoOx of which is
a conduit for pure water. All these channels communi-
cate with the streets by numerous iron ladders, and each
is furnished witii its distinctive mark and the name of
the street above."

In addition to the above-mentioned regulation sights,
there are the more frivolous entertainments to be briefly
described.

The well-known waxwork exhibition of the Boulevard
Montmartre, known as the Muste Or^vin, is not, as is
sometimes supposed, the precursor of the essentially
popular Madame Tnssaud's Exhibition in London, which
can boast o( a continuous history of nearly a century.

SOME 8IDE'8H0W8 OF PABI8. 321

It was founded by the late M. Al&ed Or^viii) editor of
the Journal Amusantj as recently as 1882^ but has
already taken high rank among the popular sights of
the capital. Nearly all the illustrious subjects have been
in the first instance sketched or modelled from life by
artists or sculptors of standing. The bust is then
modelled in plaster, and afterward in wax, and then the
features are carefully painted. But the more difficult
work is yet to come. This is to get the eyes and the
hair exactly to match the subject, and to give a really
natural and lifelike expression to the eyes is the eruz of
the whole undertaking. With true artistic conscientious-
ness the sculptor generally gets the illustrious subject to
give him sittings for the torso and limbs. To give addi-
tional vraisemblance to the counterfeit presentment, the
figures are clothed with the actual costume once worn
by tiie original. In the arrangement of the striking
scenes in which the various personages appear, con-
siderable attention is paid to the grouping and tiie
general stage effect. Some of the best groups show
considerable artistic talent, especially the historical one
of Louis XYL and his family in the Temple.

There is, of course, a department analogous to the
M Chamber of Horrors" of Madame Tussaud's famous
exhibition, and this gruesome and lugubrious collection
of notorious evil-doers is, it need scarcely be said, tiie
most popular section of the whole exhibition.

The eccentric caftfs of Paris, of which the famous
Cabaret du Chat Noir may be considered the prototype,
are to be found in the Montmartre quarter, chiefly on
the Boulevards Clichy and Bochechouart Though tiiey
are termed by tiie guide-books ^< literary and artistic

322 PARIS IN ITS SPLENDOUB.

caf^s," they are for the most part merely show plaooB,
and started chiefly to attract tourists, and their literary
or artistic associations are a quantitS nSgligeabU. Few
show any real cleverness or ingenuity, or even any very
startling bizarrerie. The bad taste of most of these
establishments is not even redeemed by any impressive-
ness, and the visitor, as a rule, is not even shocked, —
merely disgusted and bored. In short, they are as banal
as they are vulgar. There are, however, one or two very
striking exceptions, especially the Gaf^ du N^ant. The
daring ingenuity and the remarkable cleverness with
which the illusion of the charnel-house is carried out
is certainly praiseworthy. No doubt the exhibition is
ghastly and in doubtful taste, but its impressiveness
and the artistic conscientiousness of the performance
take it out of the category of merely vulgar and
horrible spectacles. The caf^ is particularly well de-
scribed by Mr. W. C. Morrow, in his sketch of
Bohemian Paris (see Bibliography), to whom I am
indebted for much in the following account of this
remarkable illusion.

Passing through the black cerements which shroud
the entrance guarded by a lugubrious eroqiie-mart (un-
dertaker's attendant), the visitor entered a dismal vault-
like chamber, dimly lighted with funeral wax tapers,
and with the walls decorated with skulls and bones like
an ossuary. For tables were heavy wooden coffins. This
was, however, merely the antechamber to the Chambre
de la Mort, to which the guest was summoned in lugu-
brious tones. This room was absolutely dark, with the
exception of two long candles, whose feeble rays were
insufficient to do more than accentuate the darkness.

SOME 8IDB- SHOWS OF PARIS. 323

Between the candles was an opening in the wall of tlie
shape of a cofSn.

^< Presently a pale, greenish-white illumination began
to light up the coffin-shaped hole in the wall, clearly
marking its outline against the black. Within this space
there stood a coffin upright, in which a pretty young
woman, robed in a white shroud, fitted snugly. From
the depths came a dismal wail, * Alas, Macchab^e, beau-
tiful and pulsating with the warmth and richness of life,
Death has claimed thee.'

" Slowly the face became white and set, the eyes lost
all their fire ; the lips stretched themselves in a hideous
grin; the cheeks gradually sunk in. She was dead.
But the actual dissolution was yet to be counterfeited.
The features gradually turned from the deathly pallor
to a livid tint, then a purplish tint ; ... the eyes visibly
shrank into their greenish-yellow sockets, . . . slowly the
hair fell away. . • . Then everything disappeared, and a
gleaming skull shone where so recently had been the
blooming face of a handsome young woman, — the ob-
trusive teeth ^ grinned horribly a ghastly smile.' Even
the shroud had disappeared, and in the coffin stood an
entire skeleton."

Certainly a ghastly and gruesome exhibition, but as a
delusion undeniably clever. The other eccentric caf^s
in this bizarre boulevard are comparatively uninterest-
ing. The entertainment provided is, as a rule, puerile
and meaningless. The best of these, M. Maxime Lis-
bonne's (a <« hero of the Commune ") Bague, has recentiy
'^een dor 1. The best known of tiiose that remain are

^1^^ 1 Ciel, Cabaret de I'Enfer, Ane Rouge,

^ the Caf^ du Conservatoire. There are,

324 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

no doabt, many genuine literary and artistic cafte in
Paris, bat naturally mere touriBts are not encouraged at
tiiese Bohemian preserves^ and if possible, a curious vis-
itor should try and get introduced to one of these liter-
ary resorts by an habitu6.

Less of a show place, and a better example of the
purely grotesque caf^, is the Gaf^ Bruant, owned by
Aristide Bruant, the Francois Villon of to-day. He is
the laureate of the people, or perhaps it would be more
accurate to say, the criminal classes. Bruant, indeed,
has done for the Montmartre loafer and bully what Al-
fred Chevalier has for the Whitechapel coster. The
proprietor occasionally sings or recites verses of his own
oompomtion at his caf^, copies of the song being after-
ward sold at fancy prices to tourists or strangers who
have found their way here.

A great show of privacy is kept up at this eccentric
caf^, the proprietor first scrutinising strangers iiirougfa
a grating in the door, and if satisfied, the visitor is
allowed to enter. He will find himself in a small room
hung witii fantastic pictures, and the entertainment
diiefly consists in the recitation of verses by tiie host
himself, or by habitues of the caf^.

The most characteriBtic of thf^^f^ Iftj^fnt-o cafds ia the
Cabaret du Soleil d*Or, in the II i 4. This is

tiie refuge of the real unconvcnti^
from Paul Yerlaitie (lately iU ki
literary starvelinj^, who hm but a ;
which to inspire hh muae. ^* Her
rendezvous, a dirty old h"l'* i\Umi
street's level, fr ' - tlu'

musicians, and Horn

SOME awx^sHowa of paris. 325

has no use, and who, in their nnrelazing poverty, live in
{he tobacco douds of tiieir own construction, caring
nothing for social canons, obeyers of the civil law be-
cause of their scorn of meanness, injustice, and crime,
suffering unceasingly for the poorest comforts of life,
ambitious without energy, hopeful without effort, cheer-
ful under tiie direst pressure of need, kindly, simple,
proud, and pitifuL''

The doyenj not only of literaiy, but of all tiie Paris-
ian cafds, is tiie famous Cafi Procope, which has been
already described among the literary landmarks of Paris.

These so-called eabareU UUiraire9 are peculiar to the
French capital. London does not seem to offer con-
genial soil. In fact, the only caf4 in the metropolis
which bears any resemblance to the eccentric caf te of
Paris is the grotesque ^ Cobwebs Inn " in Richmond.

Any sketch of ^ vulgar Paris ** would be incomplete
without some reference to the so-called hdU pMie$j
the Moulin Rouge, or Casino de Paris. These establish-
ments are more cosmopolitan than Parisian, and are
really run for tiie tourist They are practically caf^
with eccentric dancing by professionals thrown in by
way of entertainment There is far more individuality
in tiie Montmartre dancing-saloon, the Moulin de la
Oalette. This is a typical Bohemian resort, and not so
well known to sightseers as the notorious Moulin Rouge,
or Bal BuUier. A visit to this place is imperative upon
all who wish to study au fmd the student life of the
capital.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. ^

It is popularly, but erroneously, supposed tiiat the idea
of universal exhibitions originated with tiie prince con-
sort No doubt it was due to this enlightened prince's
i9fluenoe, energy, and administrative skill that the great
exhibition of 1861 seems to have eclipsed all otiier
exhibitions, and was looked upon as iiie forerunner of
these national commercial enterprises. But as a matter
of fact, industrial exhibitions are a French invention.

In 1798, in an interval between the various wars which
tiie republic was waging, the first industrial exposition
was held. This was the prototype of international
exhibitions now in vogue among all civilised nations,
but it was a small and insignificant enterprise with
scarcely more tiian a hundred exhibitors, and is barely
mentioned in most histories of the time. It was, indeed,
little more tiian a subsidiary feature of a republican
fdte. Still it served to stimulate and encourage French
commerce and industry. The ofiicial accounts of this
modest little exposition are meagre and scanty, but we
learn that there were 110 exhibitors, among them being
£rard of Paris, who received a medal for improvements
on the harp. The location selected was the Champ
de Mars, the site of the colossal world's fair of 1889
and of the present 1900 exposition, though the modest

THE PABI8 EXHIBITION. 327

exhibition of that day must have been but a little oasiB
of buildings in this extensive plains The building was
in the form of an amphitheatre, and there was no
charge made to exhibitors for space. ^During the
exhibition, which lasted thirteen days, the galleries were
illuminated, orchestral concerts were given, and the
period was one of unbroken gala.

<^ Industrial exhibitions on a much larger scale were
held in 1801, 1802, and 1806. Two were held in the
reign of Louis XYIII., one under Charles X., and three
during that of Louis Philippe, namely, in 1884, 18S9,
and 1844. Prince Albert revived the idea; but the
acorn producing the giant oak was undoubtedly the
modest little exhibition opened in Fructidor, An VI. of
the Republic." ^

So that the French are not only celebrating the dawn
of a new century in their great exhibition of 1900, but
might also be said to be commemorating tiie centenary of
industrial exhibitions, which have done so much to foster
art and commerce among civilised nations.

The great exhibition of 1900 has for its raUon JCHre
the summing up of the world's industrial, social, and
artistic progress during the nineteenth century. This,
at all events, translated into plain English, is the official
pronouncement of the commissionnaire-g^n6ral (M. Pi-
card), who, in a vein of somewhat sentimental rhapsody
(perhaps excusable under the circumstances), has her-
alded the opening of this great world's spectacle.

<'The Universal Exposition of 1900," declared this
enthusiast, ^ should be tiie philosophy and synthesis of
the century; it should have at once grandeur, grace,
1 '' France of To-day/* by Miaa M. Betham-EdwaRla.

328 PABI8 IN IT8 8PLKND0UB.

and beaatjr; it ahpuld reflect the bright genius of
France; it ahoold demonstrate that to-day, as in the
past, we are in the van of progress; it should honour
tiie century and the republic, and show to the world
that we are the worthy sons of tiie men of 1789."

There are besides two special reasons why France
should celebrate the apo&eosis of tiie Third Republic.
As a writer in the Oomnopolitan suggestively remarks :

<< France ushered in iiie nineteenth century with a
tragedy of blood enacted to tiie discordant music of war.
She will introduce the twentieth century with a drama
of arts and industry attuned to the sweet harmonies of
peace. The epoch that closes holds for her the memory
of tiie barbaric triumph of 1807, and of tiie ignoble
humiliation of 1870. The one that opens shall see her
making a glorious recompense for Jena and taking a
splendid vengeance for Sedan."

The centennial character of the exhibition has been
consistently borne in mind by its organisers, and most
of the national exhibits will be shown witii due regard
to their historical sequence. For instance, in the transport
section, next to tiie latest electric motor-car, will stand an
old diligence of a hundred years ago ; Italy will be rep*
resented by a hundred years of art, and Germany does
not hesitate to send — the taste, by the way, is ques-
tionable — a << retrospective military exhibit'' from the
Napoleonic era down to tiie present day.

Most visitors, however, and among tiiem I fear I must
include myself, are scarcely likely to rise to these exalted
sentiments, and to them tiie exhibition is merely a place
of recreation or entertainment

Even the barest skeleton outline of the official cata-

THS PAB18 BXHIBITIOK. 329

logoe would of course occupy too much space in this
Buperficial sketch of the 1900 exhibition.

The list of the eighteen groups (taken from the Aet€9
0rganiqus9)y into which all the exhibits are divided, will
serve, however, to ^ve some idea of the enormous scope
of the << Exposition Universelle Internationale de 1900."

1. Education; 2. Fine Arts; 8. Letters, Sciences,
and Arts ; 4. Mechanics ; 6. Electricity ; 6. Transport ;
7. Agriculture ; 8. Horticulture ; 9. Woods and Forests
(including field sports); 10. Food; 11. Mines; 12.
Furniture and House Decoration; 18. Textile Fabrics;
14. Chemistry; 16. Various Industries; 16. Social
Economy and Hygiene; 17. Colonies; 18. Naval and
Military.

It will be noticed that electricity is given a group
to itself.

The exhibition covers a wider area than any interna*
tional exhibition ever held in Europe (though in this
respect the Columbian World's Fair of 1898 quite threw
Paris into the shade), and a visitor who has conscien-
tiously waded tiirough a detailed description of its
wonders, its streets of cosmopolitan palaces, mammoth
curiosities, illusionary side-shows, etc., may be pardoned
for thinking that unaided he would infallibly lose his
way through the bewildering maze. As a matter of fact,
notiiing could be simpler than iiie plan of the exhibition,
and the prominent landmarks of the Trocad^ro, Fine
Arts Palace, Invalides dome, and tiie Eiffel Tower,
should be a sufficient guide even to tiiose to whom
iiie instinct of locality is lacking.

All tiiat is necessary to remember is tiiat the letter
<^ A " is the key-note of tiie topography. The exhibition

330 PAEI6 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

iBj in short, a colossal Alpha, bat with the apex lacking.
The legs of this A are terminated by the Trocad^ro
and Fine Arts Palace respectively; the top of the A
would be found if the legs were continued till they met
half-way between the Machinery Palace (now Agricultural
Palace) and the Invalides, but a few hundred yards
south. Then the cross-bar of the A is formed by the
Seine from the Jena Bridge to the new Alexander III.
Bridge. To continue this homely figure, tiie general
scheme of the great show will be better understood
if we bear in mind that the main divisions of the exhibi-
tion conveniently group themselves around the three
axes of the A. For instance, speaking roughly, the
industrial and commercial departments extend along
the western leg from the Trocad^ro to the Champ de
Mars, the artistic and ornamental section extends from
the Champs Elys^es to the Invalides, that is, along
the eastern leg, while the cross-bar is devoted to the
International Palaces. The Paris correspondent of
the Daily New% has admirably epitomised this classifi-
cation by the titles. Industry Walk, Arts Walk, and
Cosmopolitan Walk.

There is also a vast annex of the exhibition at the
Park of Vincennes, some miles away, where the sporting
element of the show has free scope. Here will take place
the various meetings of cyclists, automobilists, a repro-
duction of the Olympian games, tournaments, athletic
sports, etc.

After a bird's-eye view of the grounds from the Eiffel
Tower, or the Trocad6ro Palace, a stranger will be
better able to understand the key plan of the exhibition
on the principle suggested above.

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. 331

Having grasped the general topographical plan, the
arrangement of the principal groups of exhibits and
the more prominent features can be followed with little
mental effort The whole exhibition falls readily into
six sections:

1. The Champs i^ys^es (Principal Entrance and
Fine Art Palaces).

2. The Right Bank of the Seine (Hdtel de Yille,
Horticulture Palace, Old Paris, and Congress Palace).

8. The Trocad^ro (French Colonies).

4. Champ de Mars (Eiffel Tower, Palace of Electric-
ity, Water Palace, and Agricultural Hall).

6. Left Bank of the Seine (Street of Foreign Palaces).

6. Invalides (Alexander III. Bridge, Decorative Arte,
and French and Foreign Industries).

This division at all events lends itself best to descrip-
tion. Some such kind of classification is essential, if any
description is to be intelligible, but even visitors who
have no intention of <^ doing '' the exhibition systematic-
ally, and whose chief aim is to amuse themselves, will
find that this superficial knowledge of the topography
will make tiieir explorations more enjoyable.

International exhibitions are certainly unspeakably
exhausting, both mentally and physically, to those who
attempt to deal with them in a conscientious spirit. No
doubt the right way to enjoy a World's Fair on such a
colossal scale is to be strong-minded enough to disregard
the educational or utiliterian aspects altogether, and,
leaving this to experts and specialists, to make up one's
mind to be entertained and interested rather than in-
structed and edified. One would be almost inclined to
suggest that another aim should be to attempt to see as

332 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

little 88 possible, or ra&er to abstain from any inten-
tional effort and refrain from any fixed plan or pro-
gramme. It is, then, in this dilettante spirit that I
propose to discuss the 1900 exhibition. Certainly tiie
artistic and esthetic side is far more likely to be appre-
ciated by a visitor who conducts his sightseeing on tins
negative principle than by the earnest-minded person
who is determined to see ^ everything that is worth see-
ing," and conscientiously works his way from the first
to the last page of the official catalogue.

1. The principal entrance to the grounds is close to
the Place de la Concorde, and there could hardly be a
more appropriate titie for tiie vestibule of an interna-
tional exhibition.

The great gateway has been built on a scale com-
mensurate witii the size and importance of this Expo-
sition Universelle. This Porte Monumentale, as it is
happily termed, is a highly ornate and elaborate struc-
ture of Oriental design. <<It consists essentially of a
great dome rising nearly one hundred and fifty feet from
the ground, carried by arches of sixty feet span and
one hundred and ten feet in height, of which the one
constituting the fa9ade is developed upward by exterior
ornamentation of bold and striking design, and crowned
by a statue of Paris standing npon a globe. Parisian
sculptors have certainly shown a disposition to tiiirow
off the trammels which the conventional classical style
imposes on decorative statuary. This colossal statue of
Paris receiving her guests is represented by a young
damsel in a modem ball-dress, welcoming her guests
with stretched-out hand. The attitude, if unconven-
tional, is at all events lifelike, and its meaning is ob-

TBX PABI8 BXHIBITIOir. 333

yious enough, which cannot be said for mach of the
symbolical statuary of the old school of sculptors. At
the right and left rise lofty minarets in Eastern style.
Like the rest of the construction, these are brilliant
with many colours by day, and blazing in electric glory
by night The decorations are carried out in great pro-
fusion and detail. Among these the feature which will
perhaps attract most commendation is tiie remarkable
work of the rising young sculptor Guillot, in the two
friezes of tiie main archway, representing < Workingmen
Bringing the Products of their Labour to the Exposi-
tion.'"

At night, though the whole exhibition is a blaze of
electric light, the Porte Monumentale stands out con-
spicuous in all this wealth of illumination. It is
lighted with over three tiiousand electrical glow-lamps,
while electric search-lights flash from the cupola and
minarets.

This grand entrance has been the object of consid-
erable adverse criticism by artists and sculptors, but by
the exponents of the <^ new art," who seek inspiration
from the Orient, it is, on tiie other hand, highly eulo-
gised. It is, at all events, a wonderfully effective and
imposing structure.

Two magnificent art palaces occupy the site of that
extraordinary architectural monstrosity, the Palais de
rindustrie (only recently pulled down), of which a
caustic French author has written so disparagingly, com-
paring it to an << ox trampling upon a bed of roses, deso-
lating all that ambient gaiety, all tiiat clear and vivifying
space, through which extends the triumphal Avenue of
the Champs ^ys^es, unique in tiie whole world."

334 PABI8 nr ITS aPLENDOUB.

It has been observed that the 1889 exhibition was a
triumph for engineers, while in 1900 architecture —
<« the first of the arts, because it comprises them all "
— has her revenge, and the engineer is relegated to a sec-
ondary position. The two palaces of art are certainly
the culminating achievement of French architecture as
represented at the exhibition.

It is true that the Grand Palace cannot be classified
under any known style or order of architecture ; in fact
it is one of the greatest architectural curiosities of
modem times, but this is chiefly due to its threefold
character, — it is practically three palaces united, —
necessitated by the building having ultimately to serve
tiie various purposes of the Palace of Industry which it
replaces. It will be in turns a fine art gallery, an agri-
cultural hall, a circus, and a congress hall.

One of the chief curiosities of tiie construction are
the three grand facades. The principal facade fronts
the new magnificent Avenue Nicholas II. (of which the
Pont Alexander III. is to all appearance an integral
portion). It is composed of an imposing central porch
flanked by two Ionic colonnades. This splendid fa9ade
is over six hundred feet in length. The most remark-
able decorative feature of these galleries is a beautiful
polychrome mosaic frieze. The designs represent all
the arts, and the scheme of colouring is most effective
and artistic.

^< The facade on the Avenue d'Autun is probably the
most interesting, because it is the most unique. The
artist was asked not to mar the harmonious ensemble of
the fa^es, but beyond that he was given all latitude
for invention and originality. The chief attraction of

THB PABI8 EXHIBITION. 886

ibis part of the Grand Palace is the hall, elliptical in
shape, crowned with an immense low dome, which is
used as a skylight This hall comprises one-third of
the space of the whole building. Because of the floods
of light which peer into the hall from the cupola
and the windows, all that will remain of the walls
after the pictures have been hung will be preserved
in sombre colours, or, rather, what in French is called
grisailles.

<^The monumental staircase is inside of the palace,
facing the main entrance of the anterior building,
and leading into the concert hall of the intermediate
building.'' 1

The small art palace is, without exaggeration, an
architectural gem, and from an artistic point of view
it is one of the best features of the whole exhibition.
Its undeniable merit may be gauged from the fact that
the plans of the architect, M. Girault, were adopted
by the commission in their entirety without the slightest
modification being demanded.

Fortunately, the building is intended solely for a
permanent gallery of painting and sculpture, and has
been designed with this sole object in view.

*< The plan of the palace is that of a regular trapezoid,
the larger side of which forms the principal facade.
In the interior is a semicircular court Like its con-
gener, the Grand Palais, it too presents a central motif j
flanked by two series of columns. It would seem that
this is obligatory now for every structure that aspires
to be thoroughly up to date. It would be difficult
enough to class tiie style precisely. With its Ionic
1 2Vke Brooklyn BagU,

336 PAB18 IN ITS BPLBNDOUB.

colnmns and its domes, it would perhaps best be
described as modernised Renaissance.

^The central mottf referred to is surmounted by a
dome. The architecture is pompous without being exces-
sively so, and its numerous ornaments have been kept
comparatively sober, so as not to risk monopolising
the attention of the spectator, and diverting it from
the unity of the perspective."^

The lighting arrangements of the interior are perfect,
the galleries being lit by roof and lateral windows bo
that each painting can be placed in the position best
suited to show it off to advantage.

This palace is intended as a permanent exhibition
of modem French painting and sculpture, — a kind of
annex to the Luxembourg. During the exhibition, how-
ever, it will be devoted to a centennial exhibition of
French art, while works of contemporary artists
(French and foreign) will be lodged in the Orand
Palace. The cost of the Orand Palace was £800,000,
and that of the Littie Palace about half that sum.

The principal architectural features of the Bridge
Alexander IIL (which is practically a continuation of
the new Avenue Nicholas II.) have been described
in the History section (Vol. I.), but some reference
to its artistic aspect may be added here.

<<The architectural plan has been devised so as to
harmonise with the two palaces described, and the whole
perspective is closed in at the other oxtremitf by
Mansards gilded dome. The high prf^MH^etirb ex-
tremity of tiie bridge serve as regtin^^^^^v tK.* ftt»-
in the general scheme of tlie persp

1 2V Arthii^ct^rol B49m

THE PABI8 EXHIBITION. 337

intermediate between the two palaces in the for^round
and the lofty top of Napoleon's tomb, serving to graduate
the impression."

The decorations of the bridge form a veritable musenm
of contemporary France sculpture. The details are
particularly well described in the following passage
taken from the Exposition Supplement of the Brooklyn

<< For their groups and statues, sculptors were told to
have one principal idea in mind, namely, the alliance
between France and Russia. This has been done in the
details of the sculpturing, but the whole ornamentation
of the bridge on tiie right bank has been done with a
view to its being symbolic of peace, while that on the
left bank is symbolic of glory.

<«The square pillars are veritable works of art in
architecture, as well as in sculpture. The comers are
flanked by Ionic engaged columns. The entablature is
highly ornamented with a frieze. Along the base are
the arms of France and Russia. Sitting on a protruding
pedestal, heroic in size, are statues of women allegor-
ically representing France at different epochs of her
history. There is France under Charlemagne, by Leloir ;
France during the Renaissance, by Coutan; France
under Louis ZIY., by Marqueste ; and contemporaneous
France, by Michel

'< On the pillars stand golden groups of statuary five
metres high. They symbolise art, commerce, manufac-
ture, and science. Each figure holds a Pegasus by
the hand. They are done by Fr^miet, Steiner, and
Oranet There is a lion on each side of the pilars;
two are '^one by Dalou, and two by Oranet Along the

338 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

side of the bridge are two genii, one representing
the Neva, the other the Seine/'

2. The principal feature of this portion of the exhibi-
tion is certainly the wonderful reproduction of medi»TaI
Paris. Few will realise the structural difficulties which
the originators of this grand artistic scheme of architec-
tural reproduction had to contend with. In order to
find room for Yieux Paris it was necessary to build out
a line of quays into the Seine, and for this purpose
shafts were sunk sixteen feet deep. It was calculated
that, when filled in, every square metre would stand the
weight of seven tons, while each shaft can support a
weight of twenty-one tons.

This Old Paris is not merely an exact facsimile of a
small portion of the ancient capital, but, which is far
more effective, it is a small city, on a reduced scale,
skilfully combined with the most interesting construc-
tions which existed in the various parts of the old city
from the fifteenth to the eighteenth centuries. From an
artistic, as well as spectacular point of view, this is cer-
tainly one of the claui of the exhibition. The curious
old streets, overhung by quaint old houses, with Oothic
churches whose spires make a pleasing break in the
rows of gabled roofs, is admirably reproduced. <^01d
restaurants and wine-shops, where you may dine as in
the long ago ; old shops, where you may buy antique
odds and ends ; stage-plays, singers, dancers, all of the
mediaeval sort, will serve to make Yieux Paris a very
enjoyable anachroniHrn.**

Yieux Paris is divided into throe groupB. ^^ ^ITie
quarter of the middle' ages, which^fm^|||u_ l to

St Michel to the Church of

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. 339

This is the oldest qiuurter. (2) Then comes the quarter
of the Halles, and (8) after that one which consists of
various groups, such as the old Chfttelet, the Pont au
Change, and the Palais de Justice.

The famous Porte St. Michel is reconstructed at
the entrance of Old Paris. It is of medisoval architec-
ture, and it was destroyed in 1684. It is interesting to
know that it stood where the fountain now stands in
Place St Michel, almost in the heart of the Latin
Quarter.

From the Porte St Michel yon enter the Rae des
Yieilles ^oles, and then into the Bue des Bemparts,
where one finds the famous Maison des Piliers. This
house was the cradle of the franchise of Paris, and was
the first Hdtel de Yille.

The Pavilion of the City of Paris is very interesting
both historically and architecturally, as a fairly success-
ful attempt has been made to represent the seventeenth
century H6tel de Yille. But this reproduction is rather
cast into the shade by the remarkably artistic represen-
tation of Old Paris.

The Hdtel de Yille reproduction has a charming effect
from the river, with its graceful roof, and its series of
picturesque gables. The upper story is devoted to a
museum of curiosities — a second edition of the Cama-
valet Museum, — which, with pictures, relics, and his-
toric remains, affords instructive object-lessons in the
history of Paris. Here is also a gallery of pictures
which the city purchased since the last fair.

3. Perhaps the first view of the exhibition grounds
tnm the Trocad^ro entrance is in some respects more
striking than that from the Porte Monumentale, as here

340 PAEI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

the element of surprise comes in. The Palace, with its
wings, screens so efifectaally the exhibition grounds,
that, passing on to the southern steps of the Palace, a
magnificent panorama is spread out before the visitor so
suddenly and unexpectedly as almost to take the breath
away. This is, of course, due to the commanding posi-
tion of the Trocad^ro. <^The first impression of the
view is somewhat chaotic. The eye ranges over an
interesting, amusing, grotesque, and fascinating mush-
room, with a horizon of domes and weird-shaped roofs,
including every order and disorder of architecture.
Never was there a more entertaining medley of towers,
turrets, and pagodas."

The foreground is that of a whitewashed Oriental city,
Tunis or Tangier, while the distant views are distinctly
European.

The wooded grounds of the Trocad^ro are occupied by
a special exhibition of the French Colonies, but far too
crowded. Many a visitor would indeed be grateful if
these beautiful grounds could be kept as a kind of
preserve, free from all exhibits, so that there would
be one spot at least, in the exhibition grounds, to which
the visitor, sated with shows of all kinds, could retire and
enjoy comparatively undisturbed the glorious views.

In the Algeria section is a remarkably realistic and
natural reproduction of one of the old streets in the
Kasbah quarter of Algiers.

The entente cardidU between Russia and France is again
exemplified by the fact that the Russian village has been
constructed just above Algiers, whose golden domes are
resplendent in the sunshine. In this section visitors
are able to take object lessons in the Russian manufao-

THE PABia EXHIBITION. 341

tare of spiritaous drinks, cloths, enamels, icons, and
bronzes. A whole section is devoted to Siberian prod-
ucts.

The Tunis section is perhaps even more artistically
arranged than that of Algeria. Here a mosque has been
constructed, whose minaret is a restoration of the Mosque
Sidi Makhlouf at Kef. This is actually used for worship
by the Tunisian natives and other Arab attendants at
the show. Farther along, near an entrance on the
Boulevard Delessert, there is a second minaret, that of
the great Mosque of Sfaz.

4. The Eiffel Tower is one of the permanent public
monuments of Paris, and it is undeniably one of the
most remarkable engineering achievements of the nine-
teenth century.

It is the fashion to decry this wonderful monument as
a colossal eyesore, — some, indeed, do not hesitate to
call it a magnified factory chimney. Yet, though
the assertion may be thought daring and irrational by
those who can perceive beauty only in conventional
forms of architecture, there is a certain sublimity in this
monument as there is in the Egyptian pyramids. In
the latter, however, the element of sublimity is due to
the impression of bulk and immensity, and the sugges-
tion of the prodigious labour their construction involved.
But in the case of M. Eiffel's magnum opu9j as Professor
Baldwin Brown, in his essay in the Fine ArU has happily
observed, the idea of sublimity is afforded by the bold
and skilful disposition of the material

Though this tower, the highest edifice ever erected
by human agency, is not of course a novelty of the
present exhibition, being the great legacy left by the

342 J^AEia IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

1889 expoBition, yet no study of Paris would be com-
plete without some description of one of its most
important modem monuments, which, so far as engi-
neering science can predict, is likely to last out the
twentieth century.

The story of the genesis of this remarkable edifice
is interesting and instructive.

^During the time that M. Lockroy, the Minister of
Commerce, and commissioner-general of the exhibition,
had before him the plans in outline of a centenary
celebration, it occurred to him that a permanent monu-
ment of this great event should be erected by the
engineering faculty of France. Many plans were sub-
mitted, but that of M. Eiffel was eventually and univer-
sally accepted. M. Lockroy conferred with MM. Berger
and Alphand, the directors of the exhibition that was
to be, and they conjointly decided that the great tower
of three hundred metres high should certainly form
an integral part of the centenary exhibition, providing
that the finance commission should pass the scheme.
This body not only adopted the plan at once, but on the
5th of November, 1886, voted the credit of 1,500,000
francs, asked by M. Eiffel as a subsidy."^

The magnitude of the undertaking will be appreciated
from the following statistics :

Forty draughtsmen were continuously employed at M.
Eiffel's works at Levallois-Perret on the three thousand
plans and diagrams for a period of two years. The
number of holes pierced in the metal was over seven
million, and these were perforated by means of a
tool specially designed for the purpose. Placed end
1 Sieverto-BreweU.

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. 843

to end, these orifices would form a tabe about forty-
four miles in length.

The one classical account of this remarkable stmo-
ture is that of its author, M. Ei£Fel, who has written
an exhaustive technical monograph. A brief r^sum^,
stripped of all but really essential technic^ities, will
perhaps interest the nonnscientific reader.

Not the least arduous and responsible part of this
scheme was the question of subsoil and foundations.
In spite of the spidery aspect of the tower, the weight
of the structure is considerable, being nearly seven
thousand tons. In order to find a suitable bed for
the groundwork, it was necessary to lay the foundations
of the two northern legs of the tower at a depth of over
forty feet below the surface, and the southern legs
(where a suitable bed was to be found nearer the
surface), at a depth of about thirty feet. The founda-
tions were formed of concrete, the central portion (to
which the iron feet are clamped by colossal iron bolts
twenty-three feet long) being a block of masonry forty-
six feet long by fortynsiz wide. This anchorage gives
additional stability to the tower, and would enable
it to resist the wind pressure of a tornado.

The equal distribution of weight has been ensured
by an ingenious contrivance of hydraulic presses, which
will enable the level of the tower to be kept as true
as a billiard table. Each of the four feet of the four legs
is furnished with a powerful hydraulic press, capable
of lifting eight hundred tons. These four main supports
of the tower rise upward so as to form four great arches,
on which the first platform is built, not far short of two
hundred feet above the ground. Some 170 feet fairer

344 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

is the second platfonn from which the most satisfactory
view of Paris itself can be obtained: that from the
highest platform (880 feet from the ground) is too
panoramic for this purpose. Above this platform is
a cupola crowned by a huge lantern lighted by electricity,
whose rays in clear weather can be distinguished fifty
miles away.

Oreat things were expected from the tower as a paint
d^appui for scientific experiments, but it can hardly
be said yet to have fulfilled its promise. As a meteoro-
logical station the tower should certainly prove of the
greatest value to observers, but so far it has been littie
utilised for this purpose. In fact, it is still to all intents
and purposes littie more than a gigantic toy and place
of resort for Parisian holiday-makers and foreign
tourists.

Not far from the Eiffel Tower is the Luminous Pal-
ace, over one hundred feet in height This, unlike the
Sydenham colossus, will be a veritable crystal palace,
glass being the only material, even the supporting pillars
being made of toughened glass. The main facade con-
sists of a series of designs in glass illustrating the whole
history of glass manufacture from the earliest times.

An ingenious surprise has been contrived here to
attract the more frivolous visitor. It is a sort of sub-
terranean grotto which resembles a Swiss glacier, and
the sheets of ice can be suddenly illuminated from below
with startling efifect

This, however, is only one of th<
palaces which form ii brilliant and i
necting the Ei£Fel Towor and the
In the arrangement of the

THE PABI8 EXHIBITION. 345

special attention has been paid to the general artistic
effect of the coup d*osUj and the buildings have been so
arranged as to accentuate the apparent size of the ground
which they encircle, which rises by a gradual slope from
the Quai d'Orsay toward the l^ole Militaire.

The Water and Electricity Palaces, though arduteo-
turally distinct, are really parts of one plan. The
Ghftteau d'Eau or Water Palace is a semicircle with a
frontage of more than two hundred feet It contains a
series of fountains and cascades, from which the luminous
water flows in cascades and jets, fed by over half a
million gallons of water every hour. The principal
waterfall is about thirty feet wide and nearly one hundred
feet high ; from the midst of it will rise a colossal sculp-
tured allegorical group representing /^ Humanity, guided
by Progress, advancing toward the Future." The palace
itself is covered with groups and figures symbolic of
water, fire, and light.

These luminous fountains will be a great advance on
those of the 1889 show; and the metiiods so success-
fully adopted in the ^ electric fountains ^ of the Brook-
lyn public park (which are a novelty in Europe) will
be improved upon. By some ingenious process and the
aid of a new chemical called fluorescin, beautiful green
reflections will be given to some of the fountains, so that
the effect will be that of liquefied emeralds.

In this exhibition electricity takes a prominent place,
and indeed, if the 1889 exposition marked the triumph
of iron, the 1900 one marks the triumph of a new
science, — electricity. ««This goddess of the modem
world furnishes the two great needs of mankind, — light
and motive force."

346 FABI8 IN ITS 8PLBND0UB.

It is then very appropriate that the largest — it has a
frontage nearly a quarter of a mile long — of the special
palaces has been assigned for the display of electrical
enei^ and its wonders.

«^The oonstniction of the Palace of Electricity is
absolutely unique, and M. H^nard, the architect, has set
aside all plans- employed in the art of building. It
resembles three gigantic fans unfurled to serve as a
luminous background to the Chftteau d'Eau. The
diadem which tops the whole edifice consists of concen-
tric rays of light, into which is niched a statue called the
Fairy of Electricity. She is leading two horses that are
the symbols of science and strength. At night the
figure is all aglow in the resplendent diadem. All
around the Chftteau d'Eau it is as if the milky way had
come down on earth and each separate star had robbed
a colour from the rainbow as it shot across it on its way.^

These magnificent palaces are of course nothing but
colossal shams, as they are meant only to last during the
exhibition. They are, however, remarkably effective,
especially at night The methods of construction are
highly ingenious.

^^ The skeleton is made of strong framework and slats
of wood firmly put together. Then either a coarse clotli
or wire latticework is drawn over the bare places from
one slat to another. On this cloth or wire work is
splashed a thick coating of cement and plaster made into
a thick paste, profusely mixed with threads of hemp or
coarse flax. The paste hardens into stone, and the hemp
gives the unbreakable solidity to the mass. This har-
dened plaster, when dry, is smoothed and made evenly
white with a coating of white plaster. On the buildings

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. 347

of fbe esplanade, in friezes and other decorations, this
coating is coloured in beautiful, delicate shades. Many
of them are a light terra cotta, which so perf ectiy har-
monises with white."

5. It seems the fashion to call eveiy prominent
feature of this universal world's fair the clou of the
exhibition, from the latest gigantic toy or mechanical
eccentricity to a colossal structure like the Eiffel Tower
or the Alexander III. Bridge. More blessed indeed
is this word than the proverbial Mesopotamia to those
who write about the exhibition.

But clou or not, the magnificent cosmopolitan series
of pavilions, in the Bue des Nations, which line the left
bank of the Seine, extending from the Pont des Invalides
to the Pont de Jena, is certainly one of the most inter-
esting architectural features. The principal countries
of the Old and New Worlds are here presented, and
the leading principle is that each pavilion shall illustrate
some phase of national architecture. The buildings are
not mere shells, except structurally, but are designed
to serve to some extent as national museums. They
are also used as the headquarters of the countries'
official representatives.

Perhaps the most successful from an artistic point
of view is the ambitious palace, with its beautiful Gothic
spires and windows, by which Italy is represented. One
of the fafades is an exact and very successful replica of
the Venetian Palace of the Doges.

The United States Palace is a littie disappointing
from an architectural point of view. It would certainly
be improved if flanked by wings. It has an incomplete
appearance, and almost suggests a slice from the central

348 PARia IN IT8 BPLBNDOUn.

portion of the Waahington Capitol. To some, however,
it bears a striking resemblance to a mausoleum.

If 9 as a Britisher, I may hazard a suggestion on such
a delicate topic, one cannot help thinking what an
opportunity has been lost by this great nation. What
could have been more effective, more impressive, and
more appropriate than a faithful replica (much reduced
of course) of their magnificent house of parliament, —
in every respect one of the most splendid modem build-
ings in the world. The reduced scale, in which such a
vast building would have to be produced, would not much
affect its impressiveness, as in the artificial atmosphere
of the exhibition all sense of proportion is lost

Next to the United States Palace is the beautiful
Jacobean manor-house which appropriately represents
Oreat Britain. It is a faithful copy of Kingston House,
Bradford-on-Avon, about six miles from Bath. It was
built in the time of James L, and is one of the most
characteristic examples of the period. Within the
pavilion is a replica of the cartoon gallery at Knole
House, Sevenoaks, and the main hall is adorned with
tapestry panels after designs by the late Sir E. Bume-
Jones.

The cost of this beautiful reproduction of English
domestic architecture is no less than X80,000. The
effect is not, however, quite satisfactory from an
aesthetic point of view. It would be improved by
isolation, and a background of woodland landscape.

Of the other palaces in the Bue des Nations, the most
striking and artistic is perhaps the Russian pavilion.
This is an admirable reproduction of a characteristic
portion of the Kremlin.

^ THE PABIS EXHIBITION. 349

6. The** sixtfa division of the exhibition may be
considered the exhibition proper, for in the pavilions
which skirt the Esplanade des Invalides are most of
the French and foreign exhibits, and those who visit the
great show of 1900 to be amused and entertained will
find this the least attractive portion of the grounds.

The general effect of this strange medley of exotic
architecture afforded by the two galleries which flank
the esplanade is very striking, and certainly the prosaic
exhibits in the Indu9trie$ IHver$ represented here could
scarcely have a more gorgeous setting.

This long chain of polychrome palaces and pavilions,
with the colours of each nation floating from minarets,
steeples, standards, and lances, seen at each end of the
esplanade, offers a perspective which is one of the most
beautiful of the whole exhibition.

Imperially severe and impressive, in contrast to these
avenues of fairy-like buildings, is the mausoleum of
Napoleon, which closes the vista. To an imaginative
spectator standing on the bridge dedicated to a Russian
emperor, under the shadow of the tomb of him who
essayed the conquest of Russia, many strange thoughts
must arise.

The Yincennes annex, though a considerable distance
from the exhibition grounds, is an integral portion,
and not the least interesting of the exposition.

It can be easily reached by the new railway from the

Invalides and the Champ de Mars, while from Paris

At is easily accessible by tram from the Hdtel de Yille

y tb Bastille-Vincennes Railway, alighting at the

^ nd6.

iportant feature of this portion of the

350 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUR. ^

exhibition is the display of bulky machinery, railway
material^ agricultural implements, etc., yet this exhibit
must not be regarded as merely a kind of overflow of
the Hall of Machinery in the Champ de Mars.

Exhibits, for whose adequate display plenty of space is
essential, are to be found in the extensive pleasure
gnfunds of Yincennes. The most representative exhi-
bition of railway engines and plants of all countries
ever collected in one spot, will be housed in the great
Hall of Railways, in which twenty parallel lines of rail
have been laid down for the display of engines and
carriages of all countries, from the luxurious palace
cars of the American trunk lines, to the tiny cars of
the toy railways used for light tourist traffic in Wales
and some parts of the Continent.

Very interesting is the cosmopolitan model village of
workmen's dwellings, copied from those constructed for
the employes of the great factories in England, France,
Switzerland, and other European countries. The Eng-
lish cottage is a replica of one of those in the model
village of Messrs. Lever at Port Sunlight, near Liver-
pool, looking like a miniature villa with its bay windows,
picturesque gables, and high-pitched roof.

The recreative side of the exposition is even more
prominent at Yincennes than the commercial or utili-
tarian, and provision has been made for all kinds of
athletic sports and outdoor games, from horse-racing
and polo to tennis and croquet. There is a special
racing-track for motor-cycles, which looks like a cycle
track many times magnified, banked at the turns with
lofty embankments resembling cliffs rather than the
banks of the ordinary cycling-track. The appalling

THE PARIS EXHIBITION. 351

speed of some of these motors (over fifty miles an horn*)
renders these colossal embankments absolutely necessary.
The track is about 550 yards in circumference. This
is the first racing-track for motor-cycles on a large scale
ever constructed, and as it has been laid down on the
most scientific principles, it will probably serve as a model
for others. The motor-cars will race on a specially
prepared track which has been laid all around the
Lac Daumesnil. The picturesque chalet on the margin
of this lake near the main entrance (Porte Dor6e) is
an Austrian model village hospital. This building
is admirably equipped and furnished with all the latest
scientific methods of sanitation. In accordance with
the latest views of hygiene the space between the ceilings
of the first story and the roof (which equals in height
the first story) is open, to ensure coolness and a free
circulation of air.

CHAPTER XVn.

THE FRIVOLOUS BIDE OF THE EXHIBITION.

We now come to the most popular part of the great
exhibition, — the sidenshows and spectacular exhibits.

The most striking of the great engineering novelties is
the Mareorama, which will afford visitors an absolutely
unique entertainment, and promises to be the most
popular of all these huge sensational recreative devices,
in which modem international exhibitions are so prolific.
The visitor finds himself on what is apparentiy the deck
of a great ocean liner. This mock steamer is arranged
precisely like one of the transatiantic vessels, has a
crew and captain, masts, smoking funnels, engines, etc.
Hidden machinery gives a pleasant rocking motion, and
the illusion is rendered more complete by a fresh breeze
being << generated." The ship does not, of course, actually
move from the spot on which it is erected, but to those
on board the illusion promises to be perfect

The passengers are supposed to be on a journey from
Marseilles to Oonstantinople, and as the last bell sounds
M all ashore'' the harbour of Marseilles seems to recede
from the vision, the vessel passes out to sea, and all the
scenery of the beautiful coast passes in review. This is
done by a large number of paintings which unroll in
panorama fashion, and are so realistic that the observers.

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 353

if not overcritical, may reallj imagine that they are tak-
ing the sail. 41

Meals are aerved, and if you are not careful you will
find your soup in your lap. Genuine Beasicknesa will be
the portion of all predisposed to that ailment ! In short,
there is nothing to prevent the passengers being affected
as much as if the actual voyage were taken, except that it
will last a short time. The coast of Algiers, Tunis, much
of the Mediterranean Sea, will pass before the eyes of flie
passengers, and at last, entering the Golden Horn, the
port of Constantinople will be entered. The painting of
the panorama has been entrusted to Hugo d* Alexis, a
clever and resourceful artist, who has depicted the scenes
in all their natural beauty. The illusion throughout the
whole voyage is marvellous.

Others of what may be described as the illusionary
shows, such as the Mareorama and the Celestial Globe,
are the deep-sea panorama, and the Johannesburg gold-
mine which has been tunnelled under the Trocad^ro
gardens. In these subterranean galleries, which are
nearly half a mile long, visitors will be able to watch all
the operations of a gold-mine. To add to the verisimili-
tude of this reproduction of a Transvaal gold-mine, it is
said that the workings have been liberally ^ salted ^ with
auriferous ore, and all the processes will be conscientiously
gone through with machinery of the kind actually used
in gold mining.

The Submarine Panorama and Aquarium is planned
on a colossal scale. In enormous glass-sided tanks can
be seen the finest collection of strange fish and submarine
animals over gatiiered in one place. ^< By clever planning
it has been arranged to give visitors a perfect view of

864 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0US.

what really goes on at the bottom of the sea. A sab-
marine volcano will be in active eruptiofi, and the method
of laying and repairing an ocean cable will be illus-
trated."

In one large tank the deatmctive work of storms is
vividly represented. In the foreground is a large ship-
wrecked vessel ; the debris of masts and ropes lie on the
deck, and the funnels are prostrate on the sand. Sud-
denly a disturbance in the water is seen, and divers
appear, crossing the rocks and clambering up the ruins
of the ship to rescue the cargo and remove the dead.

^The ceilings of the aquarium are complete with
illusion. By a curious arrangement of tanks and lumi-
nous reflectors, the visitor sees the moving waters and
dashing waves filled with fish and the animal life of flie
ocean!s depth."

Besides the Eiffel Tower and Great Wheel, there are
several exhibits where colossal proportions constitute the
chief claim to attention. Of these, in which moles etprw-
terea nihil would seem to have been the motto of the
inventors, the mammoth theatre, or rather circus, which
occupies the interior of the Palace of Agriculture, is the
most prominent It will accommodate from twelve to
fifteen thousand persons. The auditorium consists of
five circular tiers rising one above the other, and sloping
backward till the topmost reaches the very roof. The
most remarkable feature, next to its huge dimensions, of
this latter-day Coliseum, is the circular stage, some three
hundred yards «in circumference.

Then there is the monster cask, to which the historic
tun of Heidelburg is as a liqueur-glass to a quart tank-
ard. It is said to weigh, even when empty, seventy tons,

FBIVOLOUa SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 855

and there is a legend that the one hundred and fifty
workmen who had built it were entertained at a banquet
given within its gigantic staves.

Another important side-show is the Tour du Monde.
This, being perhaps rather instructive than recreative, is
not likelj to be so popular as some of the more sensa-
tional and amusing spectacles. There is not much
novelty, of course, in the idea, but it has never been
carried out on anything like so large a scale. The
building itself is an architectural curiosity, — artistic
visitors will perhaps say monstrosity is a more appro-
priate epithet

In order to emphasise the essentially cosmopolitan
character of the spectacle, each f a9ade represents a sepa-
rate phase of Oriental architecture, and there is hardly an
inch of the outside walls that is not covered with quaint
or fantastic examples of Eastern decoration.

The spectacular part of the show has been elaborately
organised, and actual natives of each country depicted in
the panorama give various performances intended to
illustrate the manners, customs, and amusements of the
country. For instance, a number of Spanish dancers
give illustrations of their national dances before the
view of Fontarabia, and before the luins of Angkor
there are snake-charmers, who perform in the fore-
ground.

Indifferent and inadequate representations of national
villages have been repeated ad nauuam at so many in-
ternational exhibitions, that it is to be feared that the
extraordinarily elaborate and undeniably truthful and
artistic reproduction of a Swiss village may not at
first gain the attention it deserves. But there is as

356 PABIB IN ITB aPLENDOUB.

much difference between this great enterprise and the
Swiss Village of the conventional fancy bazaar, as be-
tween the stage setting of a Shakespearean play at the
London Lyceum and that of a touring company at a
provincial town-hall.

The Swiss Village is on a colossal scale, covering an
area of some twenty Hiousand acres, and the cost is not
far short of three million francs. The reproduction of
the Swiss scenery has been most conscientiously carried
out, even to the extent of taking gelatine moulds from
characteristic portions of the mountains themselves.
They are so accurately done that it is impossible to tell
file imitation from the real rocks, of which there are
some near the ground. << The designers have been most
clever in their knowledge of how to concentrate into so
small a space the very essence of their country. There
are quaint old streets, lined with houses taken from
towns such as Berne, Lucerne, Zurich, Geneva, Sion,
Zug, and Schaffhausen, with their original medieval
character and picturesque eaves, in which people,
dressed in their respective national costumes, will
show the public working of the many local industries.

<<In the middle of the valley is a village, with its
steeple and a milk farm, where the making of the
famous Gruydre cheese will be carried on. Among
the most striking features reproduced are the Grand
Ghftlet at Bossinidre, the Treib Oottage of the Vier-
waldstatter Lake, the Towers of Estavayer, Sion and
Lucerne, and on the shores of the miniature lake is a
very good copy of the Ohapel of Tell, the national
hero.'*!

1 Sieverto-Drewett.

FBtVOLOUB BIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 357

America mart have the credit of introducing one of
the most marrellouB and mort elaborate automatic enter-
tainments ever invented. This is the famous pneumatic
orchestra of Dr. Bruce Milles, the result of over ten
years' continuous experiments. Automata which repre-
sent human musicians by concealed mechanism (mostly
on the winding-up principle) are of course no novelty,
but all such productions are merely ingenious toys in
comparison with this complete orchestra, which is so
cleverly manipulated and so artistically manufactured
that, at a distance, and under artificial light, it would
deceive any one not a trained musician. This unique
ladies' orchestra consists of eleven life-sized figures.
They are made of papier mdehSj as wax did not look
sufficientiy natural, and are operated upon by the in-
ventor, who, seated at a console, directs all the instru-
ments by means of pneumatic tubings attached to the
finger-board, foot pedals, stops, etc., of the console.

Some idea of the magnitude of the work may be
gathered from the fact that over a mile and a half
of rubber tubing is used, in addition to brass and tin
tubes, three thousand bellows, and six thousand five
hundred valves.

^ At will the musician at the console can bring a solo-
ist to her feet, who faultiessly plays her piece, bows, and
sits down again. The marvel of it all is that the in-
ventor, among his multitudinous tubes, can recollect
which tubes move any particular figure, for tubes sur-
round him, in hanks, in bunches, until the floor around
him is covered, and seems to teem with snakes, which
they resemble.

*^ As tiie whole manipulation is performed by one man.

358 PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

and he an accomplished musician, there is no difficulty
in getting the proper expression into the music, which is
an impossibility in a mere wound-up automaton." ^

After this marvel, a revolving tower seems almost
commonplace. This is a kind of pagoda three hundred
feet high, divided into twenty-five stories. The tower
will be covered on the outside with rich ornaments of
nickel plate, glazed tiles, and glass in verj curious de-
signs. It will be illuminated with two thousand arc
lights, and twenty thousand incandescent lamps in
varied colours, and so arranged that the architectural
lines will be plainly visible at night The entire build-
ing will revolve by means of hydraulic apparatus in
such a manner that it will take one hour to rotate once
around its axis.

An artificial volcano is another wonder which will be
sure to attract visitors. The framework of the volcano
will require no less than eighteen million pounds of iron
and steel for its construction. The earth which covers
the framework will be of real turf, in order that the
mountain may present a verdant appearance. A road-
way twenty-five feet in width will wind spirally up to a
level of two hundred and forty feet

Here a circular platform three hundred feet in cir-
cumference has been constructed. This will be named
the << Franco-Russian Alley." Vegetation will be so ar-
ranged that visitors will pass from the splendid flora of
the Mediterranean to the stunted shrubs found on
craters. A cable railway will start from the base and
will take passengers up to the << Franco-Russian Alley."
The summit will always be surmounted by a cloud of
^M. Dinorben Griffith.

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 359

smoke in the evening. EniptionB wiU take place at
fixed hours, so that visitors will be able to see an imita-
tion lava flow.

A remarkable method of locomotion, which enables
visitors to pass from one quarter to another of this world's
fair, is itself a highly attractive sidenediow. This is the
famous moving road, which runs on hidden wheels pro-
pelled by electricity.

It runs at a speed of six to eight kilometres an hour,
from the Rue Fabert along the Esplanade des Invalides,
down the Avenue de la Motte Picquet, across one side
of the Champ de Mars, and back by way of the Quai
d'Orsay. Passengers will be able to travel sitting or
walking, to get on and off where and when they please,
and all without trouble or danger.

A more serious and instructive entertainment will be
afforded by the great celestial globe, which should serve
as a useful pendant to the great telescope. It is a gigan-
tic sphere, 151 feet high, resting on four enormous stone
pillars, and surmounted by a terrace nearly two hundred
feet above the ground. ^< The exterior is decorated witii
large astronomical and mythological figures, which, at
night-time, will be illuminated by a new process, in order
to attract the attention of visitors in all parts of the
exposition. In the interior of the celestial globe, rapid
electric lifts and broad staircases will convey visitors to
a second sphere, the diameter of which is 115 feet This
is in the centre of this artificial planetary system. Here
visitors will see the sun shining in the firmament, mov-
ing on the elliptic, and stars, planets, and comete moving
through space. These are represented by electric balls
of different shapes and sizes and of changeable colours.

360 PARIS IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

In the centre is the earth (diameter twenty-eix feet),
revolving on its axis. There is sitting-room for one
hundred spectators at a time, and they will be carried
from west to east, as in real life, receiving the impres-
sion of diurnal rotation. All the celestial movements
will be accomplished with scientific precision, in a shorter
time than the actual duration, but synchronically exact.
The exterior sphere may be reached from the terrace on
which it rests, by a double track forming an oblique
circle and representing the zodiac."

The great telescope, though it will serve as one of the
shows for sightseers, is primarily intended for astronom-
ical research. The telescope is not only the largest ever
made, but in magnifying power surpasses even the fa-
mous Yerkes and Lick telescopes, the object-glass being
four feet two inches in diameter, the great mirror six
feet and a half, and the tube nearly two hundred feet
long. The marvellous magnifying power may be easily
realised when it is stated that flie surface of the moon
can be seen as if the satellite were only forty-two miles
away. So that it is calculated that any object of one
yard square can be distinguished. ^

It may be imagined that the grinding of the mirror
was a critical undertaking, and the most elaborate pre-
cautions were taken during the process in order to ensure
an absolutely true surface. Special verifying instruments
were made which could measure to an almost infimtesi-
mal extent, — to the one-thousandth part of a millimetre.
The grinding was done with a mixture of emery and
water. During this operation the workman always stood

1 This sUtoment, which was largely quoted, aoconnts for the absurd
misoonoeption which gave rise to the phrase ** La lune d un mHre ! **

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 861

at a respectful distance from tiie apparatus, so as not to
change the temperature of it To show the extraordinary
precautions taken to ensure absolute accuracy, it may be
mentioned that this work was carried on, generally, from
two to five o'clock in the afternoon, the time of day when
the temperature does not change perceptibly. The grind-
ing lasted eight months, and was followed by the opera-
tion of polishing, which required two months.

In order to popularise the telescope, photographs of
the various celestial bodies will be simultaneously pro-
jected on a screen which will give pictures fifty feet in
diameter.

Another scientific feature, but one which is not likely
to appeal so much to the ordinary holiday-maker, is the
remarkable ^^ Cloud Factory," which will be popularly
known as Cloudland. No one can deny the original-
ity of this contrivance, which is intended to imitate
completely and accurately the most wonderful operations
of nature, but it is to be feared that the novelty of mov-
ing about in atmospheric conditions which can generally
only be attained by a balloon or mountain ascent, will not.
prove irresistibly attractive. Meteorologists will, how-
ever, follow the experiments with interest

There will be, of course, innumerable minor attrac-
tions and marvels of mechanical ingenuity. Of these a
complete dress made of spiders' web, and an automatic
photographic machine will serve as examples. But the
idea of a garment of spiders' web is not, it appears,
absolutely new.

<< The idea is by no means novel, for men of science
long ago thought tiiat the delicate threads spun by the
common or garden spider mi^t be utilised for industrial

362 PABI8 IN ITS SPLENDOUn.

purposes ; but there was an Insurmountable difficulty in
domesticating the varieties of the insect found in Europe,
or in collecting their produce in a wild state. Father
Cambone, a Roman Catholic missionary in Madagascar,
however,' has discovered a big spider known as the
halabe, which can be induced, under the influence of
whiskey or chloroform, to yield some thousand yards
of thread per month ; and this thread is so strong as to
bear a weight of over half a pound, and so elastic as to
stretch more than twelve per cent, of its length. In the
school of militaiy ballooning, cords made from the new
material have been used with success for the netting
of balloons, combining, as they do, the maximum of
strength and elasticity with the minimum of weight"^

The automatic camera will not only take photographs,
but reproduce tiiem on woven material. ^< Although the
details of this machine are not known, it is stated that
the photographic image is formed of dots, and is used
for the production of a perforated image on a metal
band. It is by the assemblage of these dots that the
image is formed.''

It need scarcely be said that an enormous number of
wild, impossible schemes were sent in to the conmiittee
of selection, many of them fantastic and even puerile.
One person wrote to propose that crocodiles should be
introduced into the Seine, while another thought a pa-
vilion built from the bones in the catacombs would
prove particularly attractive. M. Guillaume suggested
five Eiffel towers, four of them supporting the fifth. On
the top of the existing tower M. Minderap wanted to
place a globe one hundred yards in diameter; and
1 The English and American Gazette.

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 363

Madame Yeuve Morin would have covered it with an
immense lamp-shade! M. Y^la proposed to erect a
colossal monument to the memory of all the great
men of the Latin race. A Monsieur X., of Toulouse,
wanted to see a whale disporting itself in flie Seine,
and M. Oallia offered to make a champagne bottle
sevenly metres high. Other inventors refused to dis-
close their schemes before having concluded with the
exhibition committee an agreement for sharing in the
profits ! Altogether, over six hundred schemes were
sent in, most of which were either daringly colossal or
merely grotesque. Of these twenty-one were actually
adopted.

One daring scheme had at all events the merit of
practical utility. It was proposed to force sea water,
conveyed by pipes from a spot a few miles east of
Dieppe (one hundred and twenty miles), to an immense
open air bath at Longchamp, the shores to be covered
with fine sand, and a casino to be constructed, from
which it is supposed a large revenue would be forth-
coming from the gaming-tables. It would be possible,
explained the inventor, to have the regular flow of ebb
and flood tides, and even to provoke miniature storms.

There is a group of especially attractive exhibits
which rather defy exact classification. They are mostly
official or national exhibits, and not due to private
initiative.

The one which will probably excite most popular in-
terest is tiie famous map of France in precious stones
which the Czar has presented to the French govern-
ment. It is composed of a mosaic of precious stones.
The map is about three feet square, and is framed in

364 PABIB IN ITB 8PLEND0UB.

slate-ooloared jasper. The sea is represented by light
gray marble, and the departments in jasper of yarious
colours.

A hundred and six cities and towns are indicated by
gems set in gold. Paris is represented by a diamond,
Havre by an emerald, Rouen by a sapphire, Nantes by a
beryl, and so on. The names of the cities are inlaid in
gold. Rivers are traced in platinum. The map was
made at the imperial factory at Catherineburg.

Remarkable maps, indeed, seem a leading feature of
the 1900 show, the United States government, flie City
of New York, and the County Council of London being
represented cartographicaUy.

The gigantic relief map of the United States is tiie
largest and most elaborate map ever constructed. It is
primarily a railway map, and the enormous cost (some
X 80,000) is defrayed by the various railways repre-
sented. Every line of railway, as well as the tel^raph,
telephone, and express lines, the steamship lines on the
great lakes and the Transatlantic steamship lines are
shown. The map is built on a scale of one inch to a
mile, and is two hundred and thirty feet long by one
hundred and forty feet wide, so that it covers an area of
over thirty-three tiiongand square feet The akelefcon
framework is made of steel filled in with fire-proofed
wood, while the face of the map is modelled in papier
mdehS.

After this mammoth chart the great contour map of
London, which the London County Council senda, seems
quite a trivial affair. The map is between thirty and
forty feet sqiiare. All the principal buildings^ such
as the Houses of Parliament, WdstnuESter Abbey, Si

FBIV0L0U8 SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 366

Paul's, etc., are represented by correct models, whilst
railway stations, bridges, and public squares are all
similarly given. One of flie most noticeable features
of the map is that of the parks and open spaces, which
are lavishly stocked with imitation trees and shrubs.

The map of New York which the municipality of that
city are sending is on the same scale.

The much-talked-of life-size statue in virgin gold
which the State of Colorado was to send as her repre-
sentative exhibit is not after all to be found at the exhi-
bition. It was thought by the American Commission
that such an exhibit as representative of one of the
States lacked dignity, it being obviously impossible Ihat
the statue could be of solid gold as represented.

The Paris exhibition o£FerB an excellent field of
operations for those who take delight in statistical in-
formation. The cost of the 1900 exhibition is calcu-
lated to amount to one hundred and forty million francs,
which is met by the following receipts :

The subsidies of the government and of the city of
Paris, each twenty million francs. Advance from the
Banque de France, thirty million francs (to be repaid
out of the admission receipts). Sale of bonds (irre-
deemable), sixty-five million francs, and five million
francs which the sale of concessions is estimated to pro-
duce. It is reckoned that between sixty and sixty-five
million visitors will be attracted to the exhibition. This
is based on the somewhat optimistic assumption tiiat
there will be at least twice as many visitors as in 1889.

What this enormous number really means may be
gathered from tiie fact that the weight of the admission
tickets is no less than sixty tons !

PABI8 IN ITS 8PLEND0UB.

The financial gain to the French nation from a sno-
cessful exhibition maj be gauged from tiie experience of
the 1889 exposition. It was estimated by trustworthy
statisticians that the visitors to the last exhibition spent
a sum of no less than X50,000,000. The receipts of
the railways were increased by seventy-eight million
francs, the income of the post-office by eight millions,
and the Paris octroi duties by ten millions. Further,
the takings of the theatres were augmented to the ex-
tent of fifty per cent

^^ These figures do not of course indicate anything
like the whole gain to France from the exhibition of
1889. But they certainly give an idea of the wide-
spread interests which have everything to gain from
peace and tranquillity in 1900.'*

With regard to exhibitors, the United States will be
represented by over seven thousand, but Great Britain
makes a meagre display with less than five hundred.

It will be interesting to compare the figures of other
great international exhibitions, but in this analytical
survey it will not be necessary to go back to the early
French industrial exhibition. The 1855 show was the
first really international exhibition.

The 1855 exhibition covered only forty acres. It was
visited by 5,162,000 people, cost 11,500,000 francs, and
ito receipto were only 8,200,000 francs.

Twelve years later came the exhibition of 1867,
which covered 170 acres. It cost 28,440,000 francs,
was visited by 11,000,000 people, and brought in
25,257,000 francs, — a profit of 2,817,000 francs.
Then came the exhibition of 1878, which covered
186 acres. It received 16,100,000 visitors; the ex-

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 367

penditore was 55,400,000 francs, but its receipts were
only 28,700,000 francs, or a deficit of 81,700,000 francs.

In 1889 the exhibition covered 240 acres ; 82,850,000
people brought in 50,000,000 francs. The expenditure
was 40,000,000 francs; consequently there was a net
profit of 10,000,000 francs.

To other countries exhibitions haye proved rather
expensive luxuries, except to England, where the exhi-
bition of 1851 brought in over £200,000 ; but that of
1862, which was visited by 6,270,000 people, showed a
loss of £40,000.

The Vienna exhibition, in 1872, had 7,225,000 visi-
tors. The expenditure was 58,500,000 francs, while
the receipts were 10,640,000 francs. Philadelphia, in
1876, had 10,165,000 visitors; expenditure, 40,000,000
francs; receipts, 19,302,000 francs. Melbourne, in
1880, had 1,830,000 visitors; expenditure, 8,250,000
francs; receipts, 1,300,000 francs. Lastly, Chicago's
World Fair, in 1893, cost 141,500,000 francs, but
had only 27,539,000 visitors, and 94,100,000 francs
receipts.

In spite of the notorious unreadiness of the exhi-
bition, the proposal in the Chamber of Deputies in the
first week of the present month (April) to defer the
official opening was lost by an overwhelming majority ;
and the formal inauguration, perfunctory and meaning-
less as it is, will duly take place on tiie 14th April,
1900. There is, however, in view of the extraordinary
dilatoriness of contractors and exhibitors, some sense in
the determination of the government to adhere to the
official date of opening, for otherwise probably the exhi-
bition would scarcely have been completed this year.

368 PABI8 IN ITS BPLENDOUB.

Certainly the unpreparedness of Paris for her great
show ^' jumps to the eyes." All Paris in the neighbour-
hood of the Champs ^ys^es and the Invalides seems
««up" on account of the numerous uncompleted tram-
waysy — lig7ie% de p4nStration. At the time of writing,
— April 9th, — the beautiful Place de T^toile — the
finest site in Europe — is a heap of ezcayations caused
by the new Metropolitan electric tramways.

Still it must be admitted that ncTcr in the history of
exhibitions in the last fifty years has a universal exhi-
bition been completed oif the day of its official opening.

The aboye necessarily brief r£sum£ of the principal
attractions of the 1900 world's fair which best lend
themselyes to description, will, perhaps, be of some use
to those who wish to obtain some general idea — a
mental bird's-eye view — of this stupendous enterprise.
In this general survey I have regarded it, not from the
utilitarian point of view, but from the recreative stand-
point; in other words, from the point of view of the
ordinary visitor. As for the esthetic and artistic as-
pect, it would be rash to dogmatise. But, making due
allowance for the essentially ephemeral character of
the architecture, which forbids serious criticism, it
cannot be denied that the general effect under the
brilliant sunshine and clear skies is impressive and
really beautiful.

Even severe critics, who are apt to cry down the
gorgeous palaces and fairy-like pavilions as little more
than a dreamland of the rococo or the sublimation of
the wedding-cake order of architecture, will grudgingly
admit that the exquisitely blended harmonies of colour

FRIVOLOUS SIDE OF THE EXHIBITION. 369

and fantastic forma ahow the touch of an artist. At all
events, the site of the exhibition is undeniably beautiful.
Never, indeed, in the whole history of international
exhibitions, has so splendid a collection of palaces been
set in so exquisite a frame. If the Eiffel Tower was the
eUm of the last exposition, the one great feature of the
present one is its incomparable site. The Champs
^ys^es (perhaps the most beautiful promenade in
Europe) is now virtually included in the exhibition
area, and this charming park, with the Seine, its banks
a continuous row of palaces, and. the wooded heights of
the Trocad^ro, afford a series of unequalled architectural
vistas.

Till this year the picturesque possibilities of the Seine
were not sufficiently realised. How much it adds to the
sesthetic effect is now recognised.

If any one doubts this, let him stand on the centre of
the Alexander III. Bridge, and look down the river
toward the Trocad^ro, the Seine suggesting a kind of
cosmopolitan Venice, with its banks lined on one side
with towering white palaces, and on the other with
picturesque mediaeval buildings, interspersed with lawns
and gardens, and he will forget the meretricious char-
acter of the buildings, and the occasional obtrusiveness
of the grotesque and bizarre.

In short, with all its structural and artistic limi-
tations, the 1900 exhibition may be summed up as
«< colossal, — in size, in beauty, in artistic effect, and in
the superb aggregate of the latest results of human
progress."

CHAPTER XVm.

BIBLIOORAPHT.

NoTB. — In this chapter there has not been, of oonne, any attempt
to make a complete bibliography of Paris. Such a list would, indeed,
fill the whole of these two volumes. I have merely included the more
popular works, and as a rule these are confined to those published
within the last decade. A few of the standard authorities on French
history have also been added.

Adolphus, F. Some Memories of Paris. 1895. Blackwood.

Allsn, Grant. Historical Guide to Paris. 254 pp. G. Bichards.
1807. One of the Series of Historical Guides recently brought
out by Grant Richards. Should rather be called an artistic
guide, the admirable descriptions of the art galleries occu-
pying the greater portion of the book.

Alphand, a. Promenades de Paris. By the Chief Engineer
of the City of Paris. 2 vols. Over 600 iUustrations.
Rothschild. This gives an exhaustive description of the
parks and public gardens.

With JuLEB Simon, Yriartb and others. Histoire de
Paris. Originally appeared in monthly parts. A good
sketch of Paris in its topographical, picturesque, social,
commercial, etc., aspects.

Baedeker's Paris and its Environs. Thirteenth edition,
pp. 507. 1808. Dulau. Has all the meticulous exactitude
of detail and encyclopaedic amplitude of information for
which these excellent handbooks are distinguished.

Beale, Sophia. The Churches of Paris, from Clovis to Charles
X. mustrated. 1893. W. H. Allen.

Belloc, Hilaire. a History of Paris. 1000. Arnold.

870

BIBLIOGBAPHT. 371

BnroHAM, D. BecollectionB of PariB. 2 yoIb. pp. 642. 1896.
Chapman.

BiRtf , £. Diary of a Citizen of Paris during the Terror. Trana-
lated. 2 vols. pp. 808. 1896. Chatto.

Bloch, F. Types da Boulevard. £. Flammarion.

BoDLET, J. £. C. France. YoL 1, Book I. Beyolution and
Modem Franoe; Book n. Constitution and Chief of the
State. Vol 2, Book III. Parliamentary System; Book IV.
Political Parties. 1898. Macmillan. The standard modem
work on France and its political institutions. It is for France
what Bryce's great work on American institutions is for the
United States, or Milner'a «< England in Egypt " for Egypt

Brkntano, F. F. Legends of the Bastille. Illustrated. 1899.
Downey.

Brisson, a. Portraits Intimes. Colin. Paris.

Paris Intime. Illustrated. 882 pp. 1899. E. Flammarion.
Paris.

Burl, J. W. Beautiful Paris. Photographs with descriptions,
1895. W. W. Wilson, New York.

BuJON, Pierre. Simples Lectures sur THistoire de Paris.
Illustrated. 1899. C. Marpon.

Contt's Pocket Guide to Paris. English edition. 1899. Dulau.

Cook's Guide. New edition. 1900.

DALskMB, J. Paris Pendant le Si^. 1871. E. Dentu.

Daudet, Alphonbe. Thirty Years of Paris. Translated. 1898.
Routledge.

Davis, R. Hardiko. About Paris. Illustrated by C. D. Gib-
son. Harper. Sketches of various scenes and phases of Pari-
sian life. An English edition has been published by Gay
and Bird.

De Amicis, Edmondo. Studies of Paris. Translated by W. W.
Cady. Third edition. Putnam's.

De Coubertih, Baron Pierre. France since 1814. 1900.
Chapman. « French history, in the opinion of M. Pierre
Coubertin, appears at first sight to be split into periods per*
fectly distinct from each other. The temptation of studying
them apart has been yielded to, and thus the underlying
metaphysical thread which unites them has become less and

372 PABI8 Ur ITS BPLBNDOUB.

leas risible. This thread M. Coubeitin has endearooied to
bring to light in the above book." An American edition,
translated by I. F. Hapgood, was published by Measra.
Crowell in 1897.

DiLKB, Ladt. Art in the Modern State. 262 pp. 1888. Chap-
man. A atudy of the artistic development of Paris under
Richelieu and Colbert

Dbumont, £• Mon Yieux Paris. (Crowned by the French Acad-
emy.) Illustrated. 2 vols. £. Flammarion.

DucAMP, Maxims. Paris: see Organes, see Fonctions, et sa
Vie. 6 vols. 1874. Hachette. Full of solid information,
but treatment rather dry. A kind of sublimated blue book.

DuLAURB, J. A. Histoire de Paris, Physique, Civile, et Mo-
rale. 6 vols. J. Boulain. The contents hardly bear out
the ambitious title. The history is not continued beyond
Napoleon I.

Edwards, H. Sutherland. Old and New Paris, People and
Places. 2 vols. Illustrated. 752 pp. 1803. CasselL On
the whole perhaps the most satisfactory of the Old and New
Series of Monographs on Great Cities, published by Messrs.
CasselL The matter is valuable and informative, and
the manner readable and entertaining.

FouRHiBR, £. Paris k Travers les Ages. (Thirteenth oen.
tuiy to 1880.) Illustrated by M. F. Ho£n>auer. 2 vols., foL
Firmin Didot. 1822. A standard work. Has had many
imitators. Especially good for Louvre and H(ytel de Ville.

Galionaki'b Guide, 1894. Simpkin. Interesting archaeological
and historical details.

Hal^vt, L. Parisian Points of View. Translated by £. V. B.
Matthews. 195 pp. 1895. Harper. Short stories reflect-
ing modem Parisian life.

Hambrton, p. G. Paris in Old and Present Times. Illustrated.
841 pp. 1892. Seeley. The topography and architecture is
very fully treated, and in a very suggestive manner.

Hardt, M. D. a Pilgrimage to Paris. 1900. Cox.

Harb, a. J. C. Pkris. 2 vols. 558 pp. 1900. Allen. Abao*
lutely indispensable for all who wish to leam something
of the antiquarian and archnologioal side of Paris.

BIBLIOGBAPHY. 373

Harper's Guide to Paris and the Exhibition of 1900. 1900.
Harper.

Harrison, Wilmot. Memorable Paris Houses, with critical
and anecdotal notices. Illustrated, pp. 286. New edition.
1896. Low. A very conscientious compilation. Over three
hundred noteworthy houses or sites are noticed.

Heine, H. Letters from Paris. 2 toIs. New edition. 1898.
Heinemann.

Heinemann, W. Exhibition — Paris, 1900. 1900.

Hbnrt, S. Paris Days and Eyenings. 1892-1895. Illustrated*
pp. 828. 1896. Unwin.

HoDDER, Edwin. Cities of the World. 4 toIs. Cassell.

Hopkins, Tiohe. An Idler in Old France. 1899. Hurst An
interesting subjecti but the treatment b rather meagre and
superflciaL

Hugo, Victor, Memoirs of. Translated by J. W. Harding.
1899. Heinemann. These memoirs date back to 1826,
when Hugo witnessed the coronation of Charles X. at
Rheims. They contain characteristic sketches of Thiers,
Blanqui, Louis Philippe, etc, and descriptions of the stir-
ring scenes in Paris during the ReTolution of 1848, the
Siege of Paris, and the Commune.

Notre Dame de Paris. New edition, translated by W.
Walton. 1900. Dent The first of a new uniform series
of Hugo's works in English.

Jbphson, H. The Real ReTolutionist. 1899. Maomillaa.
^ Mr. Jephson's book is eminentiy cosmopolitan in char-
acter and interest alike, and the thinking public oi all
nationalities should be grateful to him for an important
contribution to historical literature, unsurpassed in in-
terest by any fictional masterpiece of the nineteenth oen*
tnry."

Joanne. Paris. Grand Guide. 1898. Hachette. A pocket
guide is also published.

Kaupmann, R. Paris of To^y (1889). Translated from this
Danish by Miss O. Flinch. Illustrated. 1891. Cassell.

KiTCHiN, G. W., D.D. A History of France to 1798. 8
ToIs. 1892. Clarendon Ftess. The best general inlro-

374 PABIB IN ITS SPLENDOUR.

duction to the study of French history yet published in
English. The standard work of its kind.

Lacombs, p. Bibliographic Parisienne. 1 voL P. Bouquette.
Indispensable for all making a serious study of Paris. Un-
fortunately it only includes books published not later than
1880.

Latimeb, Elizabeth W. France in the Nineteenth Century
(1830-1800). 450 pp. 1892. McClurg.

Lavall^e, Th^ophils. Histoire de Paris (B. C. 53 to A. D.
1848). 1 vol lUustrated. 1852. Hetzel, Paris..

Lebon, Akdb^. Cent Ans d'Histoire Int6rieure. 1807. Colin.
Paris.

Modem France (1780-1805). One of the « Story of the
Nations " Series. 488 pp. 1897. Unwin. This is an Eng-
lish translation of the above, with an additional chapter.
One of the best of this well-known series, and written
by one who has evidently expert knowledge of his subject.
The chapters on letters, arts, and sciences of the various
periods are especially good.

LiYiNO Pabis. a Guide to Manners, Monuments, Institutions,
and the life of the people. 480 pp. 1880. Downey. An
unconventional guide on an entirely original plan, which
should serve as a supplement to the standard guides to the
capitaL The object and scope of the book is lucidly ex-
plained in the extract from the preface quoted below : <« The
capital defects of all the guide-books hitherto published is,
that they tend to confine the traveller to the public monu-
ments and the hotels. But the rawest tourist comes for
something more, — a glimpse at the life of the people.
What of the life of the living, of the politics, the literature,
and the journalism ; the art, society, theatres, amusements,
sports, and curiosities ; the division of classes, the social
laws, fashions, manners, and customs, the whole fabric of
political and social organisation ; the very being of the
people?" To answer these questions is the raisan d'etre of
the publication of « Living Paris," and these demands
of the intelligent tourist are amply satisfied in its well-
informed pages.

BIBLIOQBAPHT. 375

LoifSBOAK, W. F. Historic Churches of Paris. Blustrated.
pp. 232. 1896. Downey. A very readable monograph, but
not quite so exhaustive as Miss Beale's well-known work.

Macquoid, Katharine. In Paris : a Handbook for Visitors in
1000. 1900. Methuen.

Mabch, p. History of the Paris Communey 1871. pp. 880.
1896. Sonnenschein.

Mabtin, B. £. The Stones of Paris in History and Letters.
Illustrated. 2 vols. 1900. Smith and Elder.

Matthews, J. B. The Theatres of Paris. Low. Out of print.

MoRiARTT, G. P. The Paris Law Courts: Sketches of Men
and Manners. Translation. 1898. Seeley.

Morrow, W. C. Bohemian Paris of To-day. 100 illustrations.
1899. Chatto.

MouRiAC, £. Paris sous la Commune. 1871. £. Dentu.

Murray's Handbook to Paris. New edition. 886 pp. 1882.
Murray. Convenient and readable. Information arranged
under alphabetical headings.

O'Shea, C. An Iron-bound City. Good description of the Siege
of Paris.

Paris as It Is. Illustrated souvenir of the French metropolis.
1892. Brentano. New York and Paris.

Paris-Parisien. I. Ce qu'il faut voir. n. Ce qu'O faut
savoir. HI. Paris-Usages. IV. Paris-Ptutique. An English
translation. Was published by T. F. Unwin in 1898. A
novel idea, but not sufficiently worked out.

Renault, G. Montmartre. Illustrated. E. Flammarion.

Saikt-Amakd, I. DE. Napoleon III. and His Court Trans-
lated by £. G. Martin. 1900. Hutchinson.

Sala, G. a. Paris Herself Again. Tenth edition. 431 pp. 800
illtistrations. Vizetelly. A sketch of Paris during tiie 1878
exhibition.

Sarcet, F. Great Streets of the World. 1892. Osgood. Life-
like sketch of the Paris boulevards.

Sisverts-Drrwett. Paragraph Guide to Paris. Third edi-
tion. 116 pp. 1890. Bemrose. An admirably comjriled
guide in every respect. By far the best of the numerous
popular guides to Paris. Contains much interestiiig and

376 PABI8 IN ITB 8PLEND0UB.

out-of-the-way infonn»tion, not to be found in the more
bulky and costly books of reference.

Stbphxns, H. Morbb. The Ffench Beyolution. 2 vols. Long-
mane. The second volume has not yet appeared. This is
usually regarded as the standard modern work on the
French Revolution. « It is, however, wanting in perspee-
tive and in judgment. Sorel's < L'Europe et la Bdpublique
Fran^aise ' is a far better book." (A. H. J.)

Strauss, Paul. Paris Ignor6. Illustrated. Folia Andenne
Maison Quantin. Paris. 1882.

Swift, Benjamot. The Destroyer: A Tale of the Siege of
Paris. 1808. Unwin.

Trxibr, £. Paris, C^>ital du Monde. Second edition. 1867.
Hetsel.

Thacxxbat, W. M. The Pttfis Sketch Book. Cheap edition.
Smith and Elder.

Tout Paris dans ma Pochs. pp. 708. 1896. Paris.

Traill, H. D. (Editor). Capitals of the World. Illustrated.
Low.

Ulbach, Louis (Editor). Paris Guide. Published by Laoroix
and Verboeckoven. 2 vols. 1867. A monumental work,
comprising a kind of encyclopedia of Paris, with principal
articles written by specialists or well-known authors, in-
cluding Victor Hugo, Alphonse Karr, E. Benan, Th. Gan-
thier, Sainte-Beuve, Ch. Yriarte, and others.

Vakdam, a. D. An Englishman in Paris : Notes and Becolleo-
tions during the Beign of Louis Philippe and the Empire.
Ninth edition. 1000. Chatto.
My Paris Note-book. Second edition. 1800. Heine-

Vasili, p. Society in Paris. Chatto.

YiNOT, Grnbral. 8i^ de Paris. (1870-1871.) H. Flon.

1872. Detailed description of military operations, 1870-

1871.
YiTU, AuousTR. Paris. 600 illustrations. E. Flammarion.
Ward, Lock and Co.'s Pictorial Guide. New edition. 1000.

Ward and Lock. Good for practical informationt especially

about hotels.

BIBLIOGSAPBT. 377

Zola, Emils. Paris. 1898. Charpentier. An EngliBh trans-
latdon by £. A. Yixetelly. Chatto.

Ventre de Paris. Same pablisher. A terribly realistic de-
scription of the low life of the great capitaL Said to be the
author's favourite work.

TRB KND.

INDEX.

Abbey de Chateaa-LandoDi 1, 279.
Abbey of St. Denis, I, la
Abbey of St Magloire, 1, 199.
Abdel Kader, II, 209.
Ab^lard, I, 15; II, 177, 178.
About, £., II, 176^ 180, 235.
Abrant^s, Duchess of, II, 183.
Acad^mie de M^decme» I, 104.
Acad^mie Franfaise, I, 39, 42,

333; n. 47. 49-53. 54. "9-
Affre, Archbishop, 1, 1 17, 243, 245,

334-
Aginconrt, I, 265.
Aguesseau, De, II, 63.
Aiz,I,7.

Aix-la-Chapelle, 1, 11 ; II, 164.
Alboni, II, 78.
Alemann, Baron d*, I, 311.
Alescander I., I, 85, 86, 87, 303.
Alexander II., I, 303 ; II., 9.
Alexander III., Pope, I, 230, 277.
Aleiis, Hugo d*, II, 353.
Alfieii, II, 7a
Alfort, II, 163, 174.
Allard, II, 254.
Allen, Grant, I, i8o» 181, 244, 258,

263, 270, 277; II, 94. "5.

Alphand, 1, 127, 167 ; II, 185, 192,

193-
Alpine Club, II, 289.
Alsace, I, 70, 146.
Amfaigu-Comiaue, II, 256.
Ambobe, Carcunal George d', II,

American War of Independence,
hS9l 11,158,233.

t79

Amids, Edmondo de, II, 187, i88»

1961
Amiens, I, 233; Cathedral of, I,

244» 289; Treaty of, I, 68,

78,84.
Ampere, II, 213.
Ancelot, I, 224.
Andrienz, II, 301.
Ane Rouge, if, 323.
Angelico, Fra, II, 9>, 93. 94*
Angelo, Michael, II, 56, 115, 116^
Angers, David d', it 17. 55. I34-
Angot, Madame^ ^319'
Angoultoe, I, ^52.
Anne of Austria, I, 40^ 267, 187 ;

II, 87 ; of Brittany, I, 268.
Antibes, I, 207.
Arabi Rebellion, I, 175.
Arago, II, 4t 153. ^7^
Arc da Carrousel, 1, 89^ 301, 307,

30*3"-
de rStoile, I, 89, 114; II, 131,

136.
de Nazareth, I, 188.
de Triomphe, I, 146, 299, 300,

:joi,307; 11,133.
Archives Nationales, I, 219* 220 ;

II, 165.
Arcueil, 1, 198.
Ar^ne de Paris, II, 22.
Argenson, Marquis de Paiilmy, I,

223.
Argenteuil, I, 167, 199^ 218; II,

270.
Armagnac, Constable d% I, 23,

202.
ArmenonviDe, Pavilion d', II, 207.

380

IKDEX.

Annorice (Brittany), I, 8.
Amauld de Catelan, II, 142.
Arsenal library, I, 223, 224.
Artois, Comte d*, I, 102; II, 164

(and see Charles X.).
Asni^ree, I, 167 ; II, 270.
Athletic sports in France, II, 271

Atthalin, General, II, 24.

Anber, II, 62, 176^

Andeoud Collection in Cluny
Mnseum, I, 191.

Angler, Emile, II, 251.

Aumale, Dnc d*, II, 24, 61.

Ansterlitz, I, 83, 89.

Austria, I, 33, 05 et passim ; cam-
paigns against, I, 68, 70, 130,

Antenil, race-course of, II, 136,

170, 267, 268.
Automobile Club, II, 289.
Autun, Bishop of, I, 281 ; Talley-
rand made Bishop of, II, 7.
Auzerre, I, 276.
Avenue d' Autun, II, 334.
du Bois de Boulogne, II, 136.
des Champs £ly^es, I, 89; 11,
136, 333 (and see Champs

^lyUe

Eylau, II, 217.

de la Grande Arm^e, I, 138,

146^ joi ; II, 23, 190. 273.
de Mangny, I, 305.
Matignon, II, 232.
de la Motte Picquet, II, 359.
de Neuilly, I, 138.
Nicholas II., II, 334, 336.
del'Observatoire, II, 13, 16, 155,

de rOp^ra, 1, 316, 323, 324, 325 ;
II, 130, 191, 192, 193, 194,
195, 200, 261.
Philippe Auguste, II, 172.
St Mand^, II, 162.
Victor Hugo, II, 217.
Victoria, I, 347.
Wagram, II, 234.
Avre, the river, I, 165.

Baedeker's Taris," I, 182, 278,
300, 347; II, 4i» 57. "8, 319.
Bal Burner, II, 325.

Ballu, the architect of Ste. Clo-

tilde, II, 79.
BaispuUics^ II, 325.
Baltard, I, 316.
Balxac, II, 52, 176, 233, 234, 242,

251.
Banque de France^ I, 76^ 221 ; II»

BarMs, II, 62, 166.

Barras, II, 8.

Barrias, I, 292, 337; II, 134, 154.

185.
Louis-Ernest, I, 337 ; II, 123.
Barri^re, Theodore, ll, 251.
Barri^re de Clichy, II, 23.
Banv, Madame du, I, 51.
Bartn^lemy, 1, 69.
Bartholdi, II, 5, 11.
Barye,I,2oa334; II. 134.
Bashkirtseff, Marie, II, 122, 235.
Basoche, mystery plays of, II, 249.
Bassano, II, 98.
Bastien-LeiMge, II, 120, 121.
Bastile, I, 21, 22, 39^ 46^ 60, 187,

204, 220, 3o6» 321, 331, zy*

333. 335. 3385 II. 30. »~»
163, 19a
Bastille -Vincennes Railway, II,

Bau(un, II, 184.

Baudry, Paul, II, 176^ 262.

Bautxen, Napoleon's victory at| I,

87.
Bayeuz, college of, 1, 199.

Tapestrv, I, 205.
Bayonne, I, 207.
Basalne, Marshal, 1, 132, 135.
Beale, S. Sophia (quoted), t 239^

257, 264, 278, 285; II, 69, 76.
Beauhamats, General, II, c8, 162.
Beaujon Institution for Blind and

Deaf Mutes, I, 54.
Beaumarchais, II, 52, 1769 177,

240, 25a
Beauvais, I, 228, 257.
Beaux Arts (Cerde), II, 289.
B^b^, II, 152.

Belfort, I, 142, 146; II, II, 134.
Belgium, acquisition of, I, 691

campaiffns in, I, 62, 94.
Belgrand, if, 319.
Belle Isle, I, 207.

INDEX.

381

BaDe Vae, 11, 140.
Belliiii, II, 95, 176, 177.
B^ranger, I, 336; II, 52, 1761 230.
Beiger, director of 1889 nhiti-

tion, II, 343.
Bergeret, General, 1, 1 51.
Berliox, II, 183, 227, 242.
Bernhardt, Sarah, II, 243, 247,

256.
Bemim, I, 269; II, 112.
Berri, Dnc de, I, 102; II, 264.
Berry, Duke of, I, 271, 276^ 304;

Duchess of, I, 304.
Berrver, II. 35, 39.
Bertha, Queen, II, i
Berthier, Manhal, I, "85.
Besan^on, I, 207 ; II, 14.
Besme, I, 352.
Betham-Edwards, Ifias, II, 309,

3«7-
BibUoth^que de TArsenal, 1, 13.
Historique de la VUle de Paris,

1,188.
Masarine, II, 47, 48.
Nationale, I, 22, 39^ 211-216^

"3.315; n,47-
Bic6tre,1, 152; II, 158.
Bichat, II, 17.
Bignon restaurant, II, 198, 200b

204, 206.
Bijouterie, Section de la, I, 317.
Billancourt, II, 269.
Billiards in France, II, 278.
Blrague, Madame de, II, 117.
Bischoffsheim, II, 13.
Biscomette, legend of, I, 236.
Bismarck, I, 133, 139^ 145, 146^

147 ; II, 9, 166.
BiMt, II, 176.
Blanc, Louis, 1, 113, 114, 11 c 149;

II> 22> 33t 36. 17^ I76» 22(5^

227.
Blanche of Castile, 1, 194.
Blanqui, I, 149 ; II, 62, 176^
Blase, Castil, II, 2U.
Blennerhasset, Lady, II, 231.

Blob, I, 312.

Blois, Bishop of, II, 221.
Blttcher, I. 94. 95. 9^; H, iJFK

147. 231.
Boating aubs, II, 260.
Bodley, J. E. C, 1, 98 ; II, a, i8a

Boichot, I, 201.

Boileau, I, 49, 255, 337.

Bots de Boulogne, I, i co, 193, 302 ;
II, 130, 135, 136b 137, 140^
141, 142, 143. i6it 163, 170.
105, 207, 271, 273.

Bois de Vinoennes, II, 161 et m^.

Boisregard, Marquis de, II, 58.

Bona|>arte, Jerome^ II, 129.

Bonaparte, Luden, I, 97.

Bonanarte, Napoleon, I, rise of,
06 ; made general of division,
66 ; during the Directory, 67 ;
prosecutes Italian campaign,
68 ; victory over Austria, 69 ;
Egrptian campaign, 70; Syr-
ian campaign, 70; dissolves
council of St. Cloud, 71 ; e»-
tablbhment of dictatorship,
73; love of system and cen-
tralisation, 74; insight into
sentiment of nation, 75; re>
organises departments, 76;
draws up Napoleonic Codes,
77 ; assumes title of Emperor,
79; coronation of, 80, 81;
growing absolutism of, 82;
crushes the Great Powers, 83;
predominant in Europe, 84;
marries Maria Louisa of Aus-
tria, 85; birth of his son, the
King of Rome, 85; declares
war against Russia, 86;
marches on Moscow, 86; re>
treats, 87 ; victoiy over i^es
at LtiUen, 87 ; suffers reverse
at Leipeic, 88; abdication and
banishment, 89; lands at
Cannes, 92; reenteis Paris,
93; grants charter to the
people, 93; marches against
alliei, 94 ; defeated at Water*
loo, 94-96; abdicates, 97;
banished to St. Helena, 97 ;
his character and work ana-
lysed, 97-99 ; state f unersl of,
107-109; tomb in Invalides
described, 109; II, huiding in
south of France, 14; reorgan-
ises the Acad^mie, 49 ; founds
Legion of Honour, 58; his
tomb^68, 69; Loriquet*s esti-

382

INDEX.

mate of, 158, 160; his ezeca-
tion of Due d'Enghien, 164;
and see I, 78, 117, 122, 125,
126, 128, 134, 156, 175, 203,
204, 207, 216, 217, 220, 223,
245, 2^5. 271, 290, 294, 30*.
303. 305. 309» 310. 313. 333.
339» 347; n, I, 8, d 15, 16,
20, 26, 36, 63, 65, 65, 70, 83,
86,91, 119, 129, 132, 133, 134,
135, 146, 180, 185, 214, 225.
239, 250, 278. 299, 306, 337.
Bonheur, Rosa, II, 12a
Bordeaux, I, 147, ic8.
Bordeaux, Duke of, I, 104, 106,

304; II, 141.
Borgo, Pozzo di, II, 176.
Borodino, battle of, I, 86.
Borromeo family of Milan, I, 252.
Bosio, I, 312, 347 ; II, 39, 78.
Botha, M., I, 178.
Botticelli, II, 02, 93.
Bouchardon, £dm^ II, 11.
Boucher, II, 105.
Bouffes Parisiens, II, 256.
Bouguereau, II, 120, 121.
Bouillons Duval, II, 203, 204, 206.
Boulanger, 1, 161.
Boulevard Beaumarchais, I, 330,
331.
Bonne-Nouvelle, I, 323, II, 255.
des Capucines, I, 322, 323, 330;
II, 188, 191, 196, 256* 290,
291.
de Clichy, II, 183, 321.
des Filles du Calvaire, I, 330,

331.
Henri IV., II, 46.
des Italiens, I, 321, 322, 323,

330; 11,188,252,253,255.
de la Madeleine, I, 321, 322,

330.
Malesherbes, II, 233.
Mass^na, II, 162.
Montmartre, I, 323, 330; II,

«9i» 255. 320.
Montpamasse, II, 221.
du Palais, II, 27, 28.
de Picpus, II, 162.
Poissonniire, I, 323.
Raspail, II, 11.
Rocnechouart, II, 321.

de S^bastopol, 1, 128, 167, 324*

347; II, 46, 19S» 319-
de Strasbourg, I, 166, 324 ; II,

195.
St. Antoine, 1, 33a
St. Denis, I, 325.
St Germain, II, 6, 7, 16, 17, 46^

215.
St. Martin, 1, 325; II, 191, 229,

256.
St. Michel, II, 46, 222, 319.
du Temple, I, 327, 330, 331.
Voltaire, I, 325.
Boulogne, II, 32, 33, 34, 35. 36^

251.
Bourbon, Cardinal, I, 34.

Duchesse de, I, 303, 304.
Bourgeois, Nicholas, II, 263.
Bourges, I, 2J3.
Bourse, the, I, 90, 314, 315, 3161

II, 59, 206.
Boussac, Ch&teau of, I, 193.
Braisne, Abbey of, 1, 194.
Brasserie, I, 327.
Breton, Jules, II, 120.
BriUat-Savarin, II, 203.
British Club, II, 291.

Museum, I, 174, 175 tt passim.
Browning, Robcat (quoted), 11, 99^

312.
Bruant, Aristide, II, 324.
Brunhild, I, 9.
Buff on, Comte de, II, 144, 145,

15a
Bugeaud, Marshal, II, 209.
Bullant, Jean, I, 185.
Burdett, Sir Henry, II, 41.
Bureau des Pauvres, I, 3a
Burgundy, Duke of, I, 23, 241.
Bume- Jones, Sir £., II, 348.
Butte Montmartre, 1, 153 ; II, 183.
Buttes Chaumont, II, 131, 161,

181, 182, 195.
Busenval, II, 134, 157.

Cabanel, II, 121.

Cabaret du Chat N<nr, II, 321.

du Ciel, II, 323.

de TEnfer, II, 323.

du Soleil d*Or, if, 324.
Cadoudal, Georges, II, 164.
Caesar, Julius, 1, 6^ 7.

INDEX.

383

Caf^s, Adolpbe, II, 206; Am^ri-
cain, II, 206; des Anglais, II,
198, 199, 200, 203, 204, 20},
206; Bruant, II, 324; Cardi-
nal, II, 207; de la Cascade,
II, 137 ; de Chartres, II, 128 ;
dn Conservatoire, II, 323;
Edouard, II, 206; de Foy,
II, 128, 130; Laurent, II,
207; LemUin, II, 130; de
liadrid, II, 141; Maxarin,
II, 207; da N^ant, II, 322;
Noel Peters, II, 207; de la
Paix, I, 322; II, 198, 200;
de Paxis, II, 200, 203, 206;
Pell^, II, 206 ; Procope, 1, 50;
II, 224, 325 ; de la R^gence,
II, 207, 278; Riche, I, 318,
323 ; de la Rotonde, II, 279 ;
Tare, I, 327 ; Valois, II, 130.

Cain, I, 209; 11,134,155.

Calais, I, oi ; II, 33.

Cambac^res, I, 73, 78; II, 176^
185.

Campo-Formio, Treaty of, I, 69,

Cannes, 1, 92.

Canonisation, procedure in the
case of, I, 251 ; the great ex-
pense of, I, 252.

Canova, II, 47, 117.

Cape Gris-Nez, II, 161.

Capet, Hngues, I, 12, 266; II, 28.

Carlyle, Thomas, I, 6, 294, 319;
II, 232, 239.

Camavalet, Hdtel and Mns^e, I,
184-188 ; and see 1, 189, 290,
and II, 339.

Caraot, '*the Organiser of Vic-
tories,** I, 67, 69, 136.
President, I, 161, 162; II, 6.

Carpeaox, II, 13, 134.

Carr^, Michel, 11, 251.

Carrel, Armand, II, 170^ 171, 172.

Canier-BeUeose, II, 123.

Casimir-P^rier, I, 162; II, 176.

Casino de Paris, II, 325.

Catacombs, I, 320; II, 312,314-

317-
Catalani, II, 253.
Catherine, daughter of Charles

VI.. I, 23.

Cavaignac, General, I, 116^ 117,
119,334; II, 183.

Ceinture Railway, II, 6.

C^lestins, Chnrui of the, II, 117.

Cellini, Benvennto, I, 196^ 210;
11,116.

Cemetery of the Innocents, I, 32,
34.54; 11,314.
of P^re la Chaise (see P^re la
Chaise).

Cerceau, Androuet do, I, i8c

Cerdes, Agricole, II, 6, 288 ; des
Artistes Dramatiques, II, 289 ;
de I'Aviron, II, 209 ; Champs
£lys^es, II, 287; d*£checs,
II, 279; de TEscrime (Rue
d'Anjou), II, 275; del'Es-
crime et des Arts, II, 275;
des Patineurs, II, 273; de la
Presse, II, 290; de la Rue
Royale, II, 288; de la Rue
Volney, II, 289, 291 ; do
rUnion, II, 286, 287, 292.

C^risoles, battle of, I, 27a

C^sar de Venddme, I, 312.

Chabrol, M. de, 1, 104.

ChfUons, I, 163.

Chamber of Deputies, 1, 201, 306;
II, 304, 367 (and see Palais
Bourbon, and Corps L^gis*
latif).

Chambord, I, 27.

Chambord, Comte de, 1, 104, 158^
271.

ChampeauJt restaurant, II, ao6.

Champollion, II, 176^

Champ de BCars, II, 6v 326^ 330^

_ 331.^14.349.35^359.
Champs Elysees, I, 89^ 301, 302*

303. 308, 333; II. i3«. »34»
"35. »S5. 207. 208, 232, 234,
273. 287. 330. 331. 368, 3^

Changamier, General, I, 201.
ChantiUy, II, 137, 138, I39* «7o»

267,268.
Chapel of the Law Courts, I, 228.
Chapelle Expiatoire, I, 104; 11,

32, 77-78.
Chapu, II, 39, 123, i8a
Charenton, II, 271.
Charity Baxaar fire, I, 163.
Charles I. of England, II, I0Q»

384

INDEX.

126 \ Charles 11^ I, 267;
Charles III., I, 12; Charles
IV., I. 251 ; Charles V., I,
ao, 22, 25, 26, 19s, 212, 266,
331; II, 29, 83, 141, 169,
179; Charles VI., I, 22, 2%,
251 ; II, 29, 30, 126, 166, 168,
243; Charles VII., I, 17, 23,
24, 27; II, 3o» 103, 168;
Charles VIII., I, 25, 269 ; II,
95; Charles IX., I, 28, 17 c,
353; M, 87; Charles X., I,
102-104, 105, 106, III, 184,
264, 271, 339; II, 140* 146,
166, 198, 241, 243» 327;
Charles XI., I, 17; Charles
the Fat, 1, 1 1 ; Charles Stuart,
the young Pretender, II, 164.

Charlemagne, I, 10, 11, 79, 80,
174,175; 11,45.

Chartres, I, 28, 35, 228, 231, 233,

257.
Ch&teau d'Anet, II, 55, 56^ 116.

de Bellevue, I, i^.

de Gaillon, II, 56, 115.

de Madrid, I, 193.

de Neuilly, I, J05.
Chateaubriand, I, 308; II, 9, 10,

210, 211, 215, 218, 219, 231.
Ch&telet, the old, II, 339; theatre,

II. 257.
ChAtUlon, II, 80.
Chavannes, Puvis de, II, 73, 122.
Ch^nier, Andr^, 1, 186; II, 32, 162,

246^ 25a
Cherbourg, I, 163, 207, 308.
Cherubini, II, 176, 180, 23a
Chess, in France, II, 278, 279.
Chevaux de Marly, I, 306.
Chevalier, Alfred, II, 324.
Chevilliard restaurant, II, 206.
Chevrenl, Eugene, II, 147.
Child, Theodore (quoted), II, 201,

202.

ChUd^ric I., I, 218.

Childebert, I, 229, 276, 277, 278 ;

II, 114.
Chilp^ric, I, 10.

China, French war with, 1, 13a
Chopin, II, 67, 176, 177.
Christianity, Conversion of Gaul

to, I, 7, 8.

Church of the Innocents, I, 320.
Cimabue, II, 93.
Cimeti^re de I'Jflst, I, 90.
du Nord, I, 90.
du Sud, II, 162.
Cit^, the, I, 14, 19, 20, 22, 188;

227, 280; 11,30,32a
Clar^tie, II, 247.
Clementine, Princess, II, 24.
Clement-Thomas, II, 176^
Clignancoart, I, 166.
Clinique d* Accouchement, II, 16.
Clodoaldus, Prince, I, 279.
Clootz, Anacharsis, II, 220.
Clotaire II., I, 218.
Clotilde, Queen, I, 27a
Clovis, I, 8, 9, 10, 79, 81, 277, 279b

283; 11,41.
Clubs in Paris, II, 284 tt seq. (and
see Cerdes).
of London compared with those
of Paris, II, 286, 288, 289.
Quny, 1, 190, 193.
Abbey of, 1, 197.
Museum, I, 182, 189^ 190^ 195,
211,215, 244f a77f 278. «795
11,28.
Cluseret, 1, 150, 151, 152.
Code Napoleon, I, 77, 98.
Colbert, I, 34, 44, 46, 47, 48: II,

63, 8 J.
Coliffny, Admiral, 1, 175, 350-354.
College de Clermont, I, 213.
de France, I, 16^ 26: II, 16^ 17,

18, 19, 218.
Maiarin, II, 48.
de Navarre, II, 20.
de Quatre Nations, II, 48.
Collioure, II, 12.
Colombe, II, 114.
Colombes, II, 270.
Colonne d'Austerlitz, I, 313*

de Juillet, I, 333.
Com^die Fran9ai8e (see Th^fttre

Franous).
Com^die ItaUenne, II, 252, 253.
Commune, 1, 4, 148-157, 188, 229,
«3i. 239, 313. 319, 324, 326,
336,338.345; ". 38. 39. 58.

126, 129^ 174, 182, 194, 223,

f Gaul 245. __

_ CompK

INDEX.

386

Comte, Angnste, II, 223, 228.
d'Artds (see Charles X.).
de Paris, I, 113, 271 ; II, 23.
Condergerie, I, 154, 219; If, 27,

*8, 30, 31, 40.
Concordat, I, 77, 79.
Cond^, Dae de, I, 40, 42, 352 ; II,

48,61, 163.
Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers,
I, 200 It sty,; II, 247, 256,
258.
de Musique, II, 230.
Constable, II, 104.
Constant, Benjamin, II, 9, 231,

235. 254.

Constantins Chloms, I, 8, 197.

Constitution of French Republic
summarised, II> 303 et stq.

Conti, Princesse de, 11, 164.

Convent of St. Thomas Aquinas,
If 204.

Copp^e, Fran9ois, II, 251.

Corbeil, I, 18.

Cordav, Charlotte, I, 4.

Cordefiers, I, 14, 59.

Comdlle, I, 4S; ii» 52» S37> 238,
243, 245.

Corot, I, 337 ; II, 63, 106, 209.

Corps L^gislatif (see Palais Bour-
bon).

Corr^lgio, II, 96, 97.

Cortot, I, 302 ; II, 78.

Coubertin, Baron de, 1, 160.

Coup d'£tat, I, loi, 121, 123, 124,
aai. 304f 344; H. 47. 62, 166.

Cour de Cassation, I, 151 ; II, 32,

, 139. 305. 30$. 308- „
des Comptes, I, 155; II, 245.
des Bfirades, I, 325.

Courbet, II, 107.

Courberoie, I, 150, 313.

Cours de Vincennes, I, i66b

Cousin, Jean, II, 169.

Coustou, I, 306; II, 134.

Coutan, J., II, 2S4, 337-

Couthon, I, 64.

Convent des Petits Augustins, II,

54-
Coycevox, I, 306; 11, 134.
Crank, I, 351 ; II, 17, 180.
Credi, L. dt, II, 96.
Credit Fonder, 1, 126.

Credit Lyonnais, I, 315.
Cremieuz, I, 342.
Crtften, II, i&.
Crimean War, 1, 125, 128.
Cuffnot, I, 20a

Cu&ines de St. Louis, II, 30, 37.
Cuvier, II, 146, 147, 17^
Cycling in Psiris, II, 271, 273.

Dagobert, I, 10, 13, 262, 268; II,

41, 82.
Dalou, I, 326, 327 ; II, 193, 337.
Damery, I, 292.
Damiens, I, 346.
Danton, I, 63, 64, 186; II, 39»

224.
Dantonist dub at Caf^ de Foy, II,

128.
Darbc^, Archbishop, I, 243, 245,

Daru, II, 183.

D'Aubigny, II, 176.

Daudet, Alphonse, II, 251, 256.

Daumesnil, Gen. II, 166.

David, I, 79, 187, 337; Ilf "S.

176, i8a
Davoust, II, 176.
De Banville, I, 246^
Decaies, II, 265.
Dechaume, Geoffrey, I, 21a
Ddacroiz, I, 246, 290, 337 ; II, i,

106, iss, 176, 180,209.
Delaplanche, I, 209; II, 123, 176.
Ddaroche, I, 246; II, 55, S7» 106,

183.
Delaunay, II, 74, 121, 247.
Delesduxe, I, 150, 152.
Delia Robbia, I, 192.
Ddorme, Philibert, I, 270, 2921

II, 55, 244.
Mmidoff, II, 179.
De Momy, I, 304.
Denon, Baron, II, 209.
D^pdt de la Guerre, I, 216^ 219.

220.
De Rosnv, I, 3c (see Sully).
Deroul^de, Paul, II, 277.
Desaix, General, I, 96 ; II, 26.
Descartes, II, 51.
Desein^, II, 160.
Desmoulins, Camille, I, 332, 3431

".3^

386

INDEX.

Detaille, II, 121.

De Tocqueville, II, 215, 217, 235.

Dev^ria, II, 106.

Devaligne, Caaimir, I, 276.

Diane de Poitiers, I, 27, 191 ; II,

55,87, 116, 169.
Dickens, Charles ; his impressions

of Geoxge Sand, II, 223 (and

see 230, 233).
Diderot, I, 59; II, 164, 224, 227.

235-
Didon, P^re, II, 76.
Didot, Flrmin, I, 337.
Dieppe, II, ^"
Dieulafoy, l7 ii
Dijon, I, 135.

DUke, Ladv (quoted), I, 47.
Dombrowski, I, 152.
Domenichino, II, 91.
Domr^my, Maid of, I, 24 (and see

Joan of Arc).
Donatello, II, 115.
Donizetti, II, 264.
Dorrf, II, 74, 224.
Don, G6nxd, II, loi.
Dottblemard, II, 21.
Dresden, victory of N^>oIeon at,

1,87.
Dreyfus case, I, 162, 164; II,

306.
Dubois, P., II, 123,
Due, II, 28.

Ducrot, General, I, 139.
Dumas, Alexandre {j^in), IIi 52,

170, 171, 214, 234, 242, 251,

«55-

Dumas, Alexandre (//r), II, 52,
183, 184.

Dumas, Jean Baptiste, II, 214.

Dumont, I, 313, 314; II, i8a

Dumouriex, 1, 63; II, i6c.

Dunkerque (or Dunkirk) I, 207;
n, 12, 34.

DnnouY, I, 30J.

Duns Scotus, Jean, I, 255.

Dupont, I, III.

Dupuytren, ll, 157, 265*

Duran, Carolus, II, 121.

Duret, 1,314; II»46.

Duray, Minister of Public Instruc-
tion, I, 282.

DuTsl (see Bouillons Duval).

fiduse de la Monnaue, II, 27a
£cole des Beaux Arts, I, 104 ; U*

. 47. 54-57. X33-
Ecole des Chartes, I, 2«a
£cole de Droit, II, 16, 2a
£cole de MMedne, II, 16^ 17,

18,2a
£cole Militaire, II, 345.
des Ponts-et-Chaussees, I, 186.
Pratique de Mededne, II, 16, 18.
Nonnale Sup^rieure, II, 17,
Polytechnique, II, 17, 20, 21.
Edgeworth, Abb^, II, 78.
Edict of Nantes, II, 174; Revo-
cation of, I, 47.
Edward IV. of England, I, 207.
Edwards, Sutherland, I, 336^ 340,

344 ; II. 20, 28, 85, 141. 238.
Egalit^, Philiope, I, 106, 187.
^SyP^ I. 09, ^ passim: Na^

poleon*s campaign in, 1, 98.
Eichens, II, 13.
Eiffel, II. 342, 343.
Eiffel Tower, I, 250; II, 80, 329,
330. 331. 341-344. 347. 354.
3^
Elba, Napoleon's banishment to,

1, 89, 91 ; II, 132, 160.
Elixabeth, Princess (*< Madame
Elizabeth"). H. 39. 78; of
France, married Philip II. of
Spain, I, 27 ; Queen of Eng-
land, I, 3a
Elys^e Bourbon, I, 303.
£lys^e Palace, the new, 1, 163 ; II,

198.
Emperor of the East, I, 10; of

the West, 1, 9, 10, 79, 8a
Endos, Ninon de T, I, iSiS.
Enghien Due d*, I, 78, 122; 11,8,

164,169.
Erard, II, 326k
Erfurt, II, 239.
Esplanade des Invalides, II, 6, 349^

359-
itr«0

Estr«es, GabrieUe d', I, 214; II,

168.
Estrenne, the brothers, I, 26.
Eudes, Count of, I, 11 ; II, 182.
Eugenie de Montijo, Comtesse de

Teba (empress), I, 125, 134;

II, 221.

INDXX.

387

Evreuz, Comte d\ I, yox.
Exhibition of 1900, 1, 160; II, 326-
3|i ; Frivolous aide of, 352-

Fabre, II» 176.

Fabriano, Gentile da, 1, 196.

Faculty of Medicine, II, 18, 144.

Falffmire, J. A. J^ I, 209 ; II, 123.

Fashoda, I, 164.

Faubonig St. Antoine, 1, 1131330^

354, 540,^342.
: Denis, 1, 324.

St Gennain, II, 280^ 286.

St Honors, II, 76.

St. Martin, I, 324.
Faure, President, 1, 162.
Favart, Madame, II, 2C3.
Favre, Jules, I, 145 ; II, 166.
Felibien, I, 31.
Fencing, II, 274-276^
Ferdinand, Duke of Orleans, II,

Fergusson (quoted), I, 254, 256^

261.
Fermor, Mary (quoted), I, 24a
Femey, II, 209.
Ferry, Jules, I, i6a
Fdte-Dieu, I, 276^
F6te of Ste. Genevieve, I, 284;

11.70.
FeuiUanto, The, II, 132.
Feuillet, Octave, II, 251. ^
Fieschi, I, 129, 327-^29; II, 18.
Fishing in France, II, 270, 271.
Flameb Nicolas, I, 32, j^.
Flandrin, Hippolyte, I, 278; II,

73. 7Sj 7G, 178^
Flaubert, II, 211, 232.
FloUo, Governor of Paris, II, 44.
Floquet, II, 176.
Flourens, I, 14a
Folies Diainatlques (theatre), II,

256W
Fontaine de Grenelle, II, la
St. Michel, II, 46^
de la Victoire, I, 347.
Fontainebleau, I, 27, 38, 43> 9h

212} II, 89, 116, 160, 239,

267.
Forge, Anatole de la, II, 176, 180.
Paul de la, II, 176.

Fort Mont Avron, 1, 14a
Vanves, I, 152; 11,317.
Fonch^, II, 9, 10, 214.
Foucher, ftOle. Ad^le, marries

i93» i96> 213, 221, 267, 268,

209,270,338; II, 19, 82, 89,

90> 97f 99> 102, III, 115, 141,

169.
FVandsIIn II, 156.
Fkanklin, Benjamin, II, 233.
Fr6d^gonde, I, 270.
Frederic Emperor, I, 249.
Frederick, Crown Prince, 1, 142.
Fr^miet, I, 209, 337 ; II, 337.
Friedland, Nux>leon's victory at,

1,84.
Fronde, The, I, 4, 40, 42, 115; II,

164.
Fronsac, Duchesse de, I, 281.

Gaboiiau, Smile, II, 235.
Gaillardet, II, 170.
Galt^ Theatre, I, 200; II, 256^
Galignani's Paris Guide (quoted),

1.305; 11* 24. 140.

Gall, Doctor, II, 153.

Gallifet, General de, I, isa

Gambetta, I, 135, 136, 139, 142,
159, 161; II, 3, 176; monu-
ment to, I, 312.

Garabit Viaduct, I, 20t.

Garda, II, 253.

Gare de TEst, I, 324.
du Nord, II, 74.
St Lasare, II, 23, 77.
de St Mand^, II, 349.

Gaigouille, I, 238.

Garibaldi, I, 187.

Gamier, Charies, I, 337 ; II, 260,
261, 262.

Garraud, II, 155.

Gastinne-Renette, II, 277.

Gaussel, Jean, I, 274.

Gautherin, I, 337.

Gauthier, Thjfophile, I, 246; II,
95, 97, 100, 183, 184, 242, ip.

GenUs, Madame de, II, 127, 17&

388

INDEX.

GennevilUen, I, 167 ; II, 270.
Gerard, Baron, II, 158.
Gerard, Bdarshal, II, 24.
G^iicault, Theodore, II, 105.
G^rdme, II, 121.
Ghirlandajo, D^ II, 95, 96.
GUbert,N.J.L.,II,3is.
Ginain, II, 17.
Giotto, II, JS, 93, 94.
Girardin, Emila de, II, 170, 171,

172,235; Madame de, I, 302;

11.235.
Girardon, I, 281.
Glranlt, II, 335.
Girodet, II, 176^
Girondists, I, 62, 63, 64, 66; II,

ja. 39i "«8 {passim).
Glacier Naoolitam, II, 207.
Gobelins, the, I, 46, 47.
Gobert, Baron, II, 176^ i8a
Goncourt, De, I, 295; II, 223,

GondC II, 9i

Gondinet, Edmond, II, 251.

Gonxaga, II, 95.

Gdrits,I, 271.

Goth, Odoacer, the, I, 8.

Goujon, Jean, I, 185, 270» 320^

J37: II> 55t "I* ii3> ii3>

116, 224.
Gounod, I, 294.
Gourgand, General, II, 24.
Government of National Defence,

1, 137, 144, 147 ; II, 63.
Oozlan, L^on, 11, 251.
Grammont, Vjcomte LouU de^ II|

Grand Boukvards, I, 46 {pa^t$m\,

Cafip II, ao7, 278.

Ch&td«t* I, lo^ t^x lit 4Si 313-

Hfttel, I» 323; n, 198, 202,

MoDArque, I, 39* 43, atj (a^
also Louis XI V.^.

Dp^ra, the, II, 254.

Falactf, n, 3}4-3j6.

P^^ defl Heaiiii Arti^ It, 134*

SUcle, I, 45p 4% 49^
GriUide Arm^c, I, 333; 1 1, 65.
GtandiQ^jioni Fameval de, lIi 24 2^
Granet, II. 337,

Gwgoire^ Henri^ II* all* _^
Gtegorj ol Toun, t 9t <97+

Grenoble, II, 14.

Greuxe, II, 105, 183.

"Gr^viIle,Henri,"II, 53.

Grtfvin, Alfred, II, 321.

Grfvy, Jules, 1, 147. i5?» «6»-

Grignan, Comtesse de, I, 188.

Grimm (quoted), II, 24a

Grisi, Bfadame, II, 253.

Grolier, I, 214.

Groe, II, 106, 176.

Grouchy, I, 94. 95* 9^

Gu^rin, II, 11.

Guilhermy, liL de, 1, 267, 272, 279,

a83-
Guillaume, II, 123.
Guillot, II, 333.
Guimet, E., of Lyons, I, 21a
Guimet Museum of ReUgioDS, I»

I73» ao8, 210.
Guise, Duke of, I, 28, 352, 353.
Guisot, I, 10, 107, 109, I to, 113;

II, 4, 24, 49, 51, 215, 231,

Gun Club, the, II, 271
Guyon, Duchesse de, I, 281.
Gymnase Th^fttre, the, II, 251
Gymnastics in France, II,

Hachette, the publisher, II, 223.
HaWry, I,j37; 11.183,255.
Halle aux >^n8, 1, oa
Halles, Centrales, I, 32, 290, 316-

329, 321 i II, 319.
Ham, 1,207; 11,36, 251.
Hamerton, P. G. (quoted), I, 259,

1S8* 391 J n, 68. 7 2, 7j, 83,

84. 87, 26J.
Haimlton, E. Blanche (quoted J* I,

J*'
J. M.* 11, taa.
Hanotaoxr Minister of Fondgn

Aflairv, I, 282.
Haie^ A. J.C, (quoted), I, 36, 276;

Hp 79^
Harrbon, Alexander* TIi I22#
Frederide, l, 3. 1 $6^ t68,
Wilmoti n, 235 {and see ** Mem
ofabU Paris Hoo^e***)
Hau»snian, Bskif^n^ I, I27i 167, 1S6,
J72* 5241 !!, 37, 46, 185, igi.
193.

INDEX.

389

H&vnaa, Fort, I, tii.

Heine, tomb of, 11, 184 ; home of,

II, 2jo; last days, II, 232.
mio'ise, I, 218; II, 177, 17&
mnard, II, 346.

Henrietta Maria, I, 287 ; II, 126.
Henry L, I, 201.
IL, I, 27. 206, 213, 267, 268,
269; 11,31, 87. 90» "«. "^
"7. 169.
II., Emperor, I, 195.
III., 1, 28, 29, 33, 34, 455 II»

141. 252-
IV., I, 28, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 60,
79. ai3» 271. a?^. 283, 312,
3j8, 346» 352 ; II, I, 26, 83,
84, 88, 163.

V. of England, I, 23 ; II, 30, 39,
166.

VI. of England, I, 23, 129^ 239.

VII. of England, I, 259.
VII., Emperor, I, 251.

VIII. of England, I, 35, 190.
HeradiiiB, I, 23a

*<Hemani,'' opening perfonnance

of, II, 241-243.
Harold, II, 176.
HUl of Ste. Genevi^Te, II, 69.
Hippodrome, the, II, 282.
Hoche, General, 1, 69.
Holland, campaigns against, 1, 6$ ;

II. 146W
Holy Roman Empire, I, 79.
Hdpital, L', II, 63.

de la Charity, II, 157.
Horse-radnff, II, 267 it uq,
Hdtel de B^thune, I, 335.

de Bonrgogne, II, 17, 238, 252.

de Bonifion, I, 39.

Bristol, II, 198.

des Champs Slyate, II, 207.

Clnny, I, 171, 184, 188, 189.

de Cond^, II, 250.

de Conti, II, 47.

Continental, 1, 312 ; II, 198, 202,
203, 204.

Dieu, I, 228; II, 27, 40-43, 45,

«S7-
Grand, II, 203.
des Invalides (see InTilides).
Lambert, I, 19^ *

da Loune, II, 202.

Bfaaurin, I, 39.

Meorice, II, 198.

Monaco, I, 304.

des Monnaies (see Ifint), I, 51*
212; 11,47.

de Rambonillet, I, 39.

de Richeliea, I, 39.

Kits, II, I99» 207.

de Soubtse, I, 217.

St. Paul, I, 22, 24, 27; II,. 3a

de Sully, I, 315.

Talleyrand, II, 9.

Terminus, II, 198, 202, 204.

de Toulouse, I, 221.

des Tonmdles, I, 27.

de Ville, I, 21, 26k 29, 42, 113,
114, 128, 134, 152, 154, 167,
188, 219, 299, 311, 335, 3^
34Sf 346, 347; M. 03, 281,
«98. 309, J3I, 339. 349-
HoQSsaye, Arsene, U, 51.
Hugo, victor, I, 119, 202, 224,
230, 231, 232, 240, 246, 258,
340, 346, 349; "» 9. 38f 70^
71, io6k 211, 215, 217, 218,
225, 240-244, 251, 256.
Huguenots, I, 28, 47. 275, 350,

Hulst, Monseigneur de, 1, 24&
Humboldt, II, 146, 231.
Hyadnthe, P^re, I, 246.
Hydras, II, 222.

Idimc, II, 123.

De de U Cit?, I, 15, 227, 336^ 347*

154; 11,22,27,44,324.
ne St. Louis, I, 13, 39, 232; II,

3K>.
Imperial Qub, the, II, 287.
Imprimerie Nationale, I, 217, 220

Ingres, I, 246; II, 176, 209.
Institute, I, 282; II, 47-53, 54,

131.
International Exhibition of 1855,
1,128; 11,366.
of 1867, 1, 131 ; II, 366.
of 1878,1, 159; 11,366.
of 1889, II, 326, 345. 3^-
InTaUdes, the, I, 39, 46^ 196^ ^3*
207, 208, 271, 282, 287, 299,
307; U, 1, 2,^6» I4« 47> 62,

390

INDEX.

67-69* 79» lih «33. 329. 330.

331. 349» 368.
Napoleon's ashes interred in, I,

107, 108, 109.
Irving, Washington, his home in

Paris, II, 226.
Isabella df France, I, 251.
Isanre, Cl^mence, II, 156.
Italy, 1, 25, tt passim ; universities

of, 1, 15, 17.
Italian campaign of N^>oleon, I,

68.
independence, war of, I, 125.
Ivry, cemetery of, II, 175.

Jacqnand, M. C, II, 24.
Jacobins, I, 59, 64, 65, 71. 75; H,

128, 132.
Convents of, I, 14.
Jacquemart, I, 209.
Jacanerie, the, I, 239.
Jardin d* Acclimation, II, 140, 141,

142-144.
des Plantes, I, 39, 45 5 ^h 14*1

144-1 U.
Jaunin, Jules, II, 2Ci.
Jeanne d*Arc (see Joan of Arc).
Jeanne de Bourbon, II, 179.
Jena, I, 84, 89, 157; 11,328.
Jews, Expulsion of, I, 14.
Joan of Arc, I, 17, 23, 24.
Jockey Club, II, 286, 287, 289, 291.

292.
JoinviUe, Prince de, 1, 108, 109.
Joseph's (see Restaurant Mari-

vauz).
Josephine, Empress, I, 80, 84 ; II,

162.
Jouffroy, II, ic8.
Jourdan, Marshal, I, 7a
Juan, Golfe, de, II, 14.
** Judgments of the Sorbonne," I,

i6w

Judic, Mile., II, 25c.
Julian, Emperor, I,

8, 197; n.

25-
July Revolution of 1830, I, 103,

"I. 276, 333. 334» 339; "»

ia8, 243, 313.
Junot, Marshal, II, 183.
Jussieu, Bernard de, II, 149.
Juste of Tours, Jean, I, 269.

Kanr, Alphonse, II, 216b 229.
Kellermann, Marshal, I, 96; II,

176.
Kemevenoy, Sire de, I, i8j.
Kltchin, G. W. (quoted), I, 7, io»

18,24.33,41,71, 114.
Kl^ber, General, I, 70; II, 151,

152.
Kock, Paul de, II, 229.

LaUache, II, 253.

Labiche, II, 255.

La Chaise, II, 173.

Lac Daumesnil (ordeCharenton),

II, 163, 351.
Lac de St. Mand^, II, 163.
Lac^p^de, II, 147.
Lacordaire, I, 246; II, 211.
Lacroiz, Paul, I, 224.
Lafarge, II, 158.
Lafayette, I, 186^ 339; II, 162,

231.
La Fontaine, II, 176^ 245.
Lafosse, I, 49.
La Haye Sainte, I, 96.
Lallement, Hughes, 1, 191.
Lamarck, II, 147.
Lamartine, I, no, 113, 340-343;

11,4,210,215,233.
Lamennais, II, 211.
Lameth, II, 176.
Lamoureux, II, 259.
Lanfrey (quoteid), I. 66.
Lannes^ Marshal, II, 183.
Lanson, II, 123, 154.
Laon, I, 13.
Laplace, II, 176, 214.
La Roquette, I, 243.
Larousse, Pierre, II, 160.
Larrev, Baron, II, 176.
Lassailly, II, 243.
Lassus, I, 231, 254, 274.
Latude, I, 187 ; II, 164.
Laurens, J. P., II, 74.
Lavall^e, Th^ophile, 1, 115.
La grille, I, 13, 14. i9» ^^ 37i

336^
Lavoisier, II, 162.
Lawrence, Sir Thomas, II, 104.
Layard, Sir Henry, I, 178, 179.
Le Bargy, II, 247.
Leboeuf, I, 311.

IKDSX.

S91

Lebon, Andr^, I, 6i, 62, 76, 157;

II, 211, 218, 296.
Lebrun, I, 49, 74, 78, 281 ; II, 104.
Lecocq, II, 256.

Lecomte, General, I, 149; II, 176^
Le Creusot, I, 200.
Ledoyen restaurant, II, 207.
Ledru-Rollin, 1, 1 13, 201, 341, 342 ;

II, 62, 176, 235.
Lefebvre, Jules, II, 121.

Marshal, II, 176.
Lefael, II, 86.
Legion of Honour, I, 77, 119; II,

58-60.
Lein, Alexandre, II, 269.
Leipsic, battle of, I, 88.
Le Mans, French defeat at, I, 135,

142.
Lemerder, I, 293.
Lemoine, I, 290.
Lenoir, Alexandre, I, 264, 272;

n, 54» 56. 114. 176, 179-
Le Ndtre, I, 49; II, 132.
Lepelletier, I, 294.
Le Sage, II, 52.
Lescot, Pierre, I, 185, 320, 337;

II, 83.
L'Estoile, I, 34.
Lesueor, II, 104, 176^
Levallois-Perret, II, 342.
Levieil, I, 242.
Lhermitte, II, 121, 122.
Library of Ste. Genevieve, I, 222,

223; 11,70.
Ligny, Napoleon's victory at, I,

94, 95.
LUle, II, 33.
Lippi, Fllippo, II, 95.
lisbonne, Maxime, II, 323.
Lisfranc, II, 157.
Littr^, the lexicographer, II, 221,

222.
Lockroy, Minister of Commerce,

II. 342.
Lodi, battle of, I, 207.
Loire, the river, I, 8, 13, 37 ; army

of the, I, 135.
Lom^nie, M. de, II, 240.
London, compared with Parb, I,

3, 4, 168; Relief Committee
• of, I, 145; Patent Office

Museum, I, 200; Stock Ex-

change, I, 314 ; University of,
II, 19; recreation grounds
of, II, 125 ; parks of, inferior
to Bois, II, 136; business
atmosphere of, II, 187 ; west-
ward movement of fashion,
II, 191 ; building of Regent
Street, 194; restaurants of,
II, 202, 207; debt of, 300;
and see II, 257, 302, and
patsim,
London clubs (see Clubs of Lon-
don).
Lonergan, W. F. (quoted), I, 228,
233.237,246,275; 11,65.78.
Longdiamp, II, I37» 138, i39» >4i»

170, 267, 268, 363.
Longueville, Madame de, II, 168.
Lons-le-Saunier, II, 14.
Loriquet, Father, the eccentric

historian, II, 1 57-160.
Lorrain, Claude, II, 104.
Lorraine, 1, 146.
Lo Spagna, II, 92, 96.
Lorme, Marion de, II, 216.
Louis IIL, I, 12.
v., le Faineant, I, 12.
VI., le Gros, I, 15, 264.
VIL, I, 229.

IX., I, i6» 17, 18, 19, 33, 247,
248, 249, 25o» 259 ; II, 29, 45,
162 (see also Saint Louis).
X.. II, 48.
XL. I, 25.
XII., I. 25, 41, 190, 212, 267,

268, 269, 148.
Xllln I, 38. 45. 54. 213, 221,

231; 11.83,84,87. 126, 144-
XIV., I, 10, 40, 43. 44. 45. 46,
S«. 65, 76, 204, 206, 213, 231,
267, 287, 292, 312, 332, 335,
338;II,83,84,8|,87,89»ioo,
102, 126, 132, 168, 174, 195,
238. 239, 245, 252.
XV., I, 51, 57, 103, 175, 213,
332. 338. 346; II, II, 17. ^

52,71,83, 134.
XVI., I.

4.52,53.54.60.62,63,
loi, 102, 187, 197, 219, 220,
276^ 306, 308, 319; II, 39. 48,
77.78,83, 132, 158, 159,221.
321.

392

INDEX.

XVIII^ 1, 89. 90.9'>93t9> «<».
101, 102, 105, 264, 206, 267,
271, 304; II, 8,9, 14*16,26,
32,61. 77. I S8» 198,327.
Ni^leon, 1, 105, 117, 118, iio-
i35> 221, 304, 344, 345; II,
3«-37. 71. 251 (and tee Nar
poleon II L)
Pldlippe, Paris under, I, 105-
118; and see I, 13, 53, 137,
176^ 198, 199, 224, 254. 271,
301, 3o6» 3"3. 327t 3*8, 329,
330» 333» 339. Jio; II, 9, 10,
23, 62, 66, 119, 126, 128, is6,
170, 183. 227, 251, 327.

Louise, Duchess of Bourbon, II,
61.

Loavel, assassin of Due de Berri,
II, 264-266.

Louvre, the. Museum of, I, 173-
184; history and description
of the budding, II, 82-89;
art treasures c?, II, 89-118;
and see I, 13, 18, 21, 22, 23,
a6» 27, 28, 35, 36» 38, 43. 44,
46^ 114, 153, 154, 167, 189,
209, 211, 212, 214, 2ift 221,
«6i 273, 276^ 281, 292, 301,

M 320. 331. 335. 336. 354 J
II, 12, 23, 25, 26, 28, 30, 48,

49. 54. 55. «2o, 124, i3«-
Lucas, Hippolyte, I, 224; II, 251.
Ludwiff (see Louis).
Lun^ville, Treaty of, 1, 78.
Lulli, II, 264.
Lusson, I, 254.
Lutetia, early name of Paris, I, 6,

€t tea. : II, 22.
Liitxen, Ni^leon's victory at, I,

87.
Luzembounr, I, 27, 30, 189^ 209,

288; II, 16, 35, 89, 92, 103,

104, 1 18-124, 1 54. 157. wi.

249, 336; Gardens, II, 11, 12,

«3. «M-«S6.
Lyo^es, establishment of, I, 77.
Lyons, I, 7, 37, 353; II, 302.

Biaodooald, Marshal. II, 176.
MacMahon, Msnhsl, I, tja, rtr

Mac^L i^ 3^

Madeleine, the, I, 39, 46 108, 114,
287. 307. 3'4. 3*» ; II» 63, 6s-
67, 76> 77. 78. U». »90. 258-

MaiUot, II, 74-

Maintenon, Madame de, II, 168.

Maison, Carrie, II, 66.
Dorrfe, I. 318, 123 ; II, 198, 199,

200, 203, 206w
des Piliers, II, 319.

Maison, Biarshal, I, 328.

Malesherbes, II, 39^

Malibran, Madame, II, 227, 253.

Mallet, General, I, 87 ; II, 36.

Malmaison, II, 2^9.

Mansard, I, 49, 185, 287.

Manteffna, II, 01, 93* 94* 9^. 9"-

Manuel, II, 176.

Marat, I, 63, 154. 186^ 187; II,
224.

Marcel, Etienne, I, 14, 20^ 21, 22,

37. ?9. VS. 338.

rcW

March^ des Innocents, I, 32a

Marengo, battle of , I, 78, 96, 207 ;
11,1.

Margaret of Brabant, I, 25.
of Burgundy, II, 48.
of Navarre, II, 102.
of Valois, I, 283.

Marguerite de Provence^ II, 179.

Maru Louisa, I, 85. 87, 339.

Maria Theresa, I, 338 ; II, 87.

** Mariage de Flsaro,** opening per-
formance of, II, 240-241.

Marie, Princess, sister of Ferdi-
nand, II, 24.

Marie Antoinette, I, 60, 219, 220^
221, 271, 290^ 295, 306, 309,
338; II, 31, 40^ 77. 78, 140,
221.

Marie de M^dicis, II, 103, 118,
119.

Mariette, I, 176, 177.

Marignano, battle of, I, 27a

Marly-le-Roi, I, 306.

Mame, the river, II, 1 1, 163, 168,
269, 270^ 271.

Marochetti. II. 67.

Mn i^Kste, 11, 154, 254, 337.

MAinut. I, 119,

M*jn. Mile,» n, 176, 143-

>&aiiilUei, 1,7; 11.352.
, Chads*. I, lo.

INDEX.

S93

Bfartin, Henri, II, i6a

Martin du Nord, II, 24.

Marylebone, II, 194.

Maaa^na, II, 176.

Malays, Quendn, II, 101.

Maupassant, Guy de, II, 185.

MauDuiason, I, 367.

Mayenne, Duke of, I« 34.

Maaaa, I, x 52.

Masarin, I, 40, 4a, 44, 48, aii,
213; II. 48, 55. 166, 253.

Maximilian, Emperor, I, 344.

Medid, Catherine de, 1, 28* 36, 268,
269; 11.84,87.

Mefaemet, Ali, I, 175, 303.

Meilhac, II, 255.

Meissonier, II, 122.

•* Memorable Paris Houaea "of W.
Harrison (quoted), II, 209^
216. 222.

Memorial Chapel of St Ferdi-
nand, II, 23.

M^nilmontant, I, 26^ 166.

M^rard, St., I, 194.

Merd^, I, 209^ 337; II, 124, 133,
i8a

M^rim^e, Prosper, II, 213, 22 1.

M^ry, II, 183, 2$!.

Mesnil, II, 222.

Meteorological Obsenratory, II,
161.

Metropolitan Rs^way, II, 135.

Meti, 1, 132. 13s, 139, 146W

Meudon, II, 80^ 14a

Mexico, war of France with* I,

Meyefteer, II, 227, 264.
Michael Angelo, I, 21a
Bilichel, G., II, 254, 337.
Michelet, I. 43, 229. 337; II, 19,

176, 211, 222.
Millet, II, loiS, 107. 120.

Alm^, I, 337; II, 124, 183. 184.
Ministry of Finance, I, 15^ 312.

of Marine, I, 307 ; II, 288.
Mint (see Hdtd des Monnaka).
Blirabeau, I, 60 ; 11. 52, 164.
Ifirlitons, II, 6, 288, 291 (see also

Union Arristique).
Mohl, Julius, II. 213.
Madame, her salon, II, 21 1-213 •

marriage, and death, II, 213.

Moli^n, I, 48, 49* 196^ a87, 290,
337; II, 52, 176^ 227, 228,

a37. 138. 244» 245. 246.
Monceauz, I, 38.
Moncey, Marshal, II, 23.
Monge, II, 176W
Monod, II, 177.
Monsabr^, P^ 1, 246.
Montalembert, 1, 231 ; II, io» 158^

162,211,213,214.
Montereau, Pierre de, I, 203, 250.
Montesquieu, I, 59.
Montfau9on, I, 354; II, 182.
Montgomery, Comte de, I, 28.
Montholon, General, II, 34.
Montjoie, church of, I, 253.
Montleheil, 1, 18.
Montmartre, I, it, 148, j6i, 262,

273; 11,12,66,79.
Cemetery of, II, 182-184.
Mont Parnasse, cemetery ol II,

157-161.
Montpenaier, Due de, II, 24.
Madame de. I, 34 ; II, 156.
Mont-Saint-Blichcl, I, 207.
Mont Valerian, II, 14a
Morand, Canon, I, 248.
Moreau, H^gMppe, II, i6a
Morgue, the, II, 312-314.
Morioe, II, i8c
Momy, Due de, I, 124; II, 176^

180^286.
Morot, Aim^, II, 254.
MoiTow, W. C. (quoted), II, 322,

323.
Morteao, II, 293.
Mortier, Marshal, I, 328; II, 17&
Moscow, retreat from, I, 87.
Moulin de la Galette, II, 325.

RoQge, II, 325.
Mount of Ste. Generttve, 1, 15.
Mun, Marquis de, II, 287.
Murat, I, 503, 30C
Muiger, Henri, II, 183, 235.
Murulo, II, 91, 96^ 98, 102.
Murray, Eustace Granvflli^ 1I»

2ia
Murray's Handbook of Pteto

(Quoted), I, 185, 203, 215;

II, CO, 62.
Mns^ d'Arm^ I, 207
d'ArtiUerie, I, 203.

394

INBXX.

de Cluny, I, 348 (and see Clony

Muaeum).
Gr^vin, I, 323; II, 18, 151, 312,

320-321.
Orfila, II, 18.
Mnsset, Alfred de, I, 337 ; II, 52,
176, 210, 211, 225, 226, 251.
Paul de, it 326.
Mysore, I, 70.

Nantes, Edict of, I, 218, 352.

Napoleon Bonaparte (see Bona-
parte).

Napoleon III., I, 105, 117, 118,
1 19-135. 202, 222, 224, 271,

' 3"» 3«3. 3'6, 335. 349; l^
i6» 26, 30, 32-37, 40, 54, 62,

7if 79» 83* ^ 87» "5» "9»
i3St 163, 166. 181, 195, 214,
221, 249, 251, 274 (and see
Louis Napoleon).

Narbonne, I, 7.

National Gallerv, II, 93, 97, 118.

Necker Institution, the, I, 54.

Nelson, I, 70; II, 180.

Nemours, Due de, I, 107.

Nerval, Gerard de, 11, 242.

Neuilly, I, 301 ; II, 269.

Neuville, A. de, II, 183.

Ney, Marshal, I, 92, 94, 96; II,
13-16, 176^ 177-

Nicholas, Csar, I, 109; II, 192,

B,&iU

Nile, Battle of the, I, 7a

Nilsson, 11, 78.

Nlmes, II, 66.

Nodier, Charles, I, 224.

Noel, I, 49.

Nogent-sur-Mame, II, 270, 271.

Nogent-sur-Seine. II, 177.

Northern Flanders, cession of, I,
65.
France, barons of, 1, 12 ; church
of, I, 7-

Notre Dame, I, 14, 15, 23, 79, 80,
92, 114. 129, 163, 192, 199,
227-246, 251, 253, 25s, 260,
261, 263, 273, 274, 277, 288,
291, 300; II, 27, 65, 72, 80,

3»2-
de Lorette, I, 104.
Nouveau Cerde, the, II, 288.

Nouveauttfs Th^Atre, I, 323; 11,

ass-
Oath of the Tennis Court, II, 7,

ISO-
Observatory, the, I, 46; II, 11-13-
Od^on The&tre, II, 222, 237, 238,

249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 262.
Odette, mistress of Charles VI.,

II, 168.
Odo, Count of, I, II.
Odoacer, the Goth, 1, 8.
Offenbach, II, 183, 256^ 257.
«01d and New Paris," by H. S.

Edwards (quoted), 1, 336, 340,

344; II, 2o» 28. 85, 146, 152,

158, 167, 171, 172, 239, 244,

251.
Ol^ron, I, 207.

Op^ra, the, II, 164, 254, 258, 282.
Op^ra House, the, 1, 167, 307,

336, 337 ; II, 258>264.
Op^ra Comique, I, 163. 323, 347,

348; II, 207, 237, 252, 253,

«S4.

Oratoire, Temple de \\ the Protes-
tant churdi, I, 351.

Orfila, II, 158.

Orleans, I, 10, 135; Duke of (the
regent), I, 51; Duke of
(nephew of Louis XIV.), II,
120; Duke of (1780), II, 159 ;
Duke of (see Fer&iand), fl,
23 ; Duke of (see Louis Phi-
lippe), 1, 106.

Oisay, Count d*, II, 229.

Orsi, Count, II, 33, 34.

Orsini, his attempt on life of Nft>
poleon Illn If 129, 130.

Palais Bourbon, I, $1,90, 111,306,

307 ; II, i-S» 6, 7. 47. Oi-«4.

304-
Cardinal, II, 126.
de la Cit^, I, 18.
du Corps L^gislatif (see Palais

Bourbon).
d»£lys^, I, 51, 303, 304; II,

231, 280, 281.
de r Industrie. II, 6» 134, 333.
de rinstitut (see Institute),
des Invalides (see Invalides).

JZTDJVX.

396

de Justice, I, 38, xi

3; II, 17, 27-40, 249,

_ 114,227,247,

2S4. 3381
298, 339*
de la Legion d'Honneor, II, 47,

58-6a
National, II, 129.
du Quai d'Onay, 1, 90, 1x4* 1 55-
Royal, I, 38, SI, 153, 292, 332.
343; 11, 125-130, 132, 150,
198, 199, 204, 205, 239, 253,
2S5f 264, 279.
dee Thennes, II, 22, 185, 198,

229.
du Trocad^ro, I, 90.

Palissy, I, 192.

Pantheon, I, 222, 282, 283; II, 56^
6<, 67, 68, 69-74. 184-

Paraclete (abbey founded by Ab^-
lard), II, 177.

Pare auz Ceifs, II, 14X.
Monceauz, I, 263 ; II, 131, 155,

181, 184.
Montaourie, II, 157, 161, 162.

Par^, Ambroiae, II, 18.

Paris. — Medieval Paris, I,
3-32; importance and con-
tinuity of its history as com-
pared with that of other great
capitals, 3-5; origin o^ 5;
Caesar's conference with Gal-
lic chiefs in Paris (Lntetia), 6 ;
becomes capital of Gaul, 7 ;
first Christian church in, 7;
predilection of Emperor Ju-
lian for, 8; conquest of by
Franks, 8 ; the Kings of Paris,
9; rise of the mayors, 9;
Dagobert*s court established
in, 10; during time of Char-
lemagne, If; beleaguered by
Danes, 11 ; becomes actual
capital of kingdom, 13; ez-
Miision of, during reign of
Philippe Auguste, 13-141 ex-
pulsion of the Jews, 14;
becomes a great intellectual
centre, 14; becomes theo-
logical centre under Ab^lard
and Peter the Lombard, 15 ;
growth of uniTersity, 15-17;
under Louis IX., 17-18;
population at end of reign,

19; under Philip the Fair, ip ;
uprising of dtisens, 20 ; mumc-
i|»l revolution of BCaicel, 20-
21 ; Charies V. builds Bastile
and founds roval library, 22 ;
under English kings, 23;
opens its gates to Charles
VII., 24; aichitectnral prog-
ress from Charles V. to Frau-
ds I., 25-26; great public
works, 26; CoUige de France
founded and Louvre rebuilt,
26 ; influence of Renaissance,
26-27 ; foundation of Tuileries
laid, 28 ; part taken by Paris
in the dvil war foUowmg St
Bartholemew, 28; general as-
pect of, under the ust Valoli
kings, 29; antagonism be-
tween dvil and royal magis-
trates, 29; religious founda-
tions, 30 ; relief of the poor
and suppression of mendi-
cancy, 30; changes in the
social life of, 31 ; bad sanitary
conditions, 31. Monarchi-
cal Paris, I, 33-35; begin-
ning of modem history, 33;
siece of Paris in 1540, 14;
admtions to the Louvreunder
Henry IV^ 35-36: architec-
tural improvements under
Louis XIII^ 38 ; division into
quarturs^ 39; hdtels of the
nobility, 39; foundation of
Academic Franfais, 39; see
of Paris raised to an arch-
bishopric, 40; heavy taxes
under Masarin, 40: revolt
against new imports, 41 ;
treaty signed, 42 ; massacre of
the ** party of order,** 42-43 ;
Versailles begun by Louis
XIV^ 43 : social and economic
conditions, 45; commercial
and industrial development
under Colbert, 46; grand
boulevards built, 46; expul-
sion of Huguenots and dis-
astrous effect on industry, 47-
48 ; a literary ai|d dramatic
central 48-49; popoUtioni

396

INDMX.

toward end of seyenteenth
century, 49 ; wealth and com-
merciai standing, 50; intro-
duction of caf^s, 50; decad-
ence under Louis .XV., 51 ;
topography in eighteenth cen-
tury, 51 ; influx of country
population, 51-52; becomes
a great manufacturing centre,
52; new system of fortifica-
tions, 53; material progress
under Louis XVL, 54. Revo-
lutionary Paris, I, 56-72 ;
the cradle of the Revolution,
57; becomes the seat of
government, 60; and the
residence of the court, 60;
Paris Commune becomes
sovereign power, 62; miserv
and distress in the capital,
6j; divided into twelve arron-
dissements, 67 ; revolntionary
influence of Paris over France,
67 ; divided into twelve par-
ishes, 67 ; Bonaparte's retnm
to Paris, 71. Paris undkr
Napoleon, 73-90; establish-
ment of schoob of law and
medicine, 77; creation of
University of France, 77;
Napoleon's coronation at
Notre Dame, 79-81; Paris
receives emperor with cold-
ness, 81 ; Napoleon not much
attached to capital, 81; his
building of new streets and
places, 01 ; his dream to make
it the capital of Europe, 82 ;
Allies march upon it, 88 ; sur-
renders to Allies, 89 ; embel-
lishments of dty during First
Empire, 89, 90. Paris under
THE Bourbons, I, 91-104;
entry of Louis XVIII. into
the capital, 91 ; Napoleon re-
enters it, 93; I^iris after
Waterioo, 90; garrisoned by
foreign troops, 100; public
works undertaken during the
Restoration. 104. Pari
UNDER Louts Philipfe, I»
105-1 18 i the king's iox^ «

for, 106; Bonaparte's public
funeral in, 108-109; fortifying
of, under Thiers, 110-112;
republic proclaimed in H6td
de Ville, 114; architectural
improvements under Louis
Philippe, 1 14 ; Lavall^e*s
eulogium on Paris, 115; Na-
tional workshops m, 115;
barricades erected in streets,
116; Archbishop Affre killed
in Place de la Bastile, 117.
Imperial Paris, 1, 119-135:
dramatic scene in the Asson-
bly, 119; massacre during the
coup d'etat, 122, 121; im-
proved and remodelled under
Napoleon III^ 127-128; In-
ternational Exhibition of
1855, 128-129; visit of Queen
Victoria, 129; Exhibition of
1867, I. 131; Ilf 366.
Paris under Third Re-
public, I, 156-169; si^e
of Paris by Germans, 137 et
stq,; capitulation of, 146;
during Commune, 148 ^ ttq. ;
second siege, 150; interna-
tional exhimtion of 1878, i C9 ;
removal of capital to Ver-
sailles, 147; and restoration
to Paris, 150; exhibition of,
1889, 162; ulttstrious visitors
entertained by, 163 ; great in-
dustrial engineering achieve-
ments, 165-167 ; ardiitectural
embellishments, 167 ; the part
it has played in the history of
Europe, 167-168 ; regarded
from a political point of view,
168. Museums AND Picture
Galleries, I, 173-224;
Louvre Museum, 173-184 ;
Mustfe Camavalet, 184-188;
Cluny Museum, 189-199:
other museums, libraries, pic-
ture galleries, etc, 200-224.
Notre Dame Cathedral, L
227-246W La Sainte Cha-
PELLR and St, Denis, I,

2Al-tlt. SOSCE HtSTORTC

CitumCHEs, 1, 273^295; Si.

INDSX.

397

Gennain TAiizeRois, »7\-
276; St. Gemudn dai Pres»
276-279; St. S^Term* 279-
280; La Sorbonne, 281-282;
St. Etienne du Mont, 282-
286 ; Val de Grice, 287-288 ;
St Sulpice, 288-290; St.
Eustache, 290-292 ; St. Roch,

292-295. MONUMVNTAL

Paws, I, 299-354; II, 1-64;
onmibus eq>loTatioiia, 300 ;
Arc de Triomphe, 300-302;
Chanqia ^yt^ea and Palais
tXynie, 302-305 ; Placa de la
Concorae, 306-309; Arc de
Triomphe du Caironsel, 309-
312; Place Venddme, 312,
313; The Bonne, 314-315;
Halles Centiralea, 315-320;
Square dea Innocenta, 320-
321 ; Place de la R^publiqne,
325 ; Place de la Bastille, 331-
334 ; Hdtel de ViUe, 33^345 5
Race de Gi^e, 345-347;
Tonr St. Jacques, 348-350;
Palais Bourbon, II, 1-5; Rue
de Crenelle, 6-10; Observ-
atory, 11-13; medical and
educational quarter, 16-21 ;
Qu^ of St. Ferdinand, a^-
24; Palaia de Justice, 27-40;
Central Paris Hospital, 40-
45; Inatitute, 47-53; *«>*«
des Beaux Arts, 54-57 ; Palaia
de la Ligion d'Honneur, c8-
60; Chamber of Deputies,
61-64. Thv Madblxinb

AND NOTABLB MODBBN

Chubchbs, II, 65-^1; Ma-
deleine, 65-^ ; InyaUdea, 67-
69; Pantheon, 69-74; St
^cent de Paul, 74-76; St
Philippe du Roule, 7^7;
Chapdle Ezpiatoire, 77^8;
La Trinity, 78-79; St Angus-
tin, 79; Ste. Clotilde, 79H8a
Thb Louvbb, II, 82-118.
Thb Lvxbmboubo, II, 118-
124. Public Pabks and
Gabdbns, II, 125-185. Thb

BOULBVABDS AND CAFts,

II, 186-207. Lrbbaet Land-

M ABK8 — H0ICB8 AND

Haunts op Cblbbbitibs, II,
208-236. Dbamatic and
Musical Pabis, II, 237-266;
Theatre Fran^ais, 238-248;
Od^on Thdltre, 249-252 ;
Op^ra Comique, 252-254;
other theatres, 255-257 ; mu-
sic in Paris, 257-258: Grand
Op^ra Houae, 258-266.
Spobts and PAmiCBS, II,
267-279. Social Pabis, II,
280-292 ; the aakm, 28 1-284 ;
the clubs, 284-292. Munic-
ipal AND Lbgal Pabis, II,
23-31 1 ; adminiatrative divi-
»na, 293-296 ; municipal
ajstem and authority of Paris,
296 4/ My. ; alma of the munic-
toal reform party, 302 ; main
leaturea of the French con-
stitution, 303; French legal
system, 304-31 1. SombSidb
Shows op fabis, II, 312-
325; Morgue, 312-314; catar
combs, 314-317; the seweis,
318-320 ; eccentric WfhJbitions
and Bohemian caf^a, 320-325.
Thb Pabis Exhibition, II,
326-351; its raisom i'Air/,
327 ; historical significance,
328 ; eighteen general gionpa,
329; topographical plan, 329-
330; the six sections, 331;
entrance and art palacea, 332-
336; Alexander IIL Bn
336-338; -Old Paria,"
339; Trocad^io, 339-341;
Eiffel Tower, 341-344 ; Glass,
Water, and Electdctty Pal-
aces, 344-347 ; p«lsces In the
Rue des Nations, 347-34^;
the ezhibitioii proper, 349;
the ^^cennes annex, 349-
351. Thb Fbivolous sidb
OP THB Exhibition, II, 352-
369; various novelties and
attractiona, 352-365; cost of
exhibition, and compararive
statistica, 365-367; siie and
incomparable aite, t69>
Paria Commune^ 1, 62-64, 66w

398

INDKI.

Pirit Parliament, I, i8, i% it, 58,

40 £t passim.
Pftnsea Civitas (Pam), 1, 6.
PariflU (Paria), I, 6.
Panna, Duke of, I, 358.
Pany, Sir Erskine (quoted), II,

233.
Parris de Notre Dame, II, 43, 44.
Pascal, I, 3S0J ^h 5«» «^
Paaquier, Due de, 11, 24, 265.
Pasta, Madame, II, 253.
Patti, II, 78.

P^lissier, Marshal, I, 199.
Pelletier, Pierre, II, 221.
PetoQse de Bagatelle, II, 273.
Peninsular campaign, I, 84.
People's Charter, I, 58.
P^re la Chaise, 1, 32, 123, 155 ; II,

79, 172-180, 183.
Perpignan, I, 207.
Perrault, Charles, 1, 337.

Claude, I, 49; II, 12, 85, 87.
Perrot, II, 254.
Persiani, Madame^ II, 253.
Perugino, II, 9^ 94, loi, 102.
Peter the Lombard, 1, 15.
Petit Chatelet, II, 4$.

Lttzembourg, II, 119.

Pont, I, 20.
Petite Bourse, I, 315.
Petites Soeurs (fss Pauvres, II,

75-
Petits Angnstins, Museum of the,

I, 272.
Petrucd, I, 352.

Philip Augustus, 1, 13, 14. IS. 17.
18, 19, 20, $3, 197, 230; II,
28, 82. 84, 163.
Philip II. of Spain, I, 27, 248.
II. (see Phihp Augustus).
III., I, 19, 251.

IV. (leBel),%2o,2i4.239; II,
20, 142.

IV. of Spain, II, 102.

V. (the Fair), 1, 19, 41.

VI. (PhiUppe de Valois), II,
163.

Philippe de Champagne, I, 281.

de Comines, II, 56.

Egalit^i II, 126, 128, 160, 184.
Pichon, I, 392.
Piq>us, Cemetery of, II* 16a.

PIgalle, n, 183.

Pilon, Germain, I, 185* 19a, 337;

II, 113, 116.
PUs, 1, 292.

Pinaigiier, Nicolas, I, 286.
Pippin, family of, I, 9.
the Short, I, la

Piron. II. 51. Sa-

Pius VIL, at coronation of Napo-
leon, I, 79.
Place de la Bastille, I, 8i» 117,

"85. 3". 327. 330. 33«-334;

II, 46, 162.
Boieldieu, I, 347; H. '54-
de la Bonne, I, 314, 315; II*

256.
du Carrousel, I, 46, 114, 307*

309,312; II, 131.
du Chateau d*Eau, I, 33;.
du ChAtdet, 1, 81, 347 ; II, 354.

257. 3'8.
de Clichy, II, 33, 183.
du College de France, II, 3i8.
de U Concorde, I, 39, 51, 146^

184, 301. 30^ 307. 335. 346:
II, 33, 46, 63, 134, 373, 387,
389, 318, 319, 33o» 333.

des Conqu^tes, I, 313.

du Dauphine, II, 37, 28.

Denfert Rochereau, II, 11, 316.

d'Enfer, II, 11.

de TEtoile, I, 300, 301, 307, 333*
326, 368.

de Gr^ve, I, 3i, 384, 345. 34^

347. 3S4-
derHdteldeVi]le,I,345.
dltalie, II, 163, 166, 195.
de Louis le Grand, I, 313.
de la Madeleine, II, 318.
Monge, II, 33.
de la Nation, I, 335; II, ids*

172.
de rOp^ra, I, 314, 333, 333: 11,

du Pslais Bourbon, II, 64.

du Pahds Royal, II, 379.

du Panris, I, 333.

des Piques, 1, 313.

de U Mpublique, I, 331, 335*

330; II, 181, 195, 330.
de U Roquette, I, 146.
Royaler (ay, 37; U<i6.

tm>EX.

3»d

St Michel, II, 46k 339.

St. Snlpice, I, 29a

da ThAtre Fran9«is, II, 278.

du Trdne, I, 325.

Venddme, I, 108, 312, 313; II,

d«8 \lctoires, I, 46; II, 26.
des Vosges, I, 27, 334 ; II, 31,

216.
FUnaaette, II, 256.
Plessis-les-Toaia, castle of, I, 25.
Point de I'^toUe, II, 233.
Poissy, Abbey of, I, 253.
PoitieTS, I, 20, 244.
PoUgnac, Prince de, I, 103; II,

166.
Pompadoar, Madame de, I, 51,

303; II, 168.
Pompes Funibres, II, 178.
Ponsard, Fran9ois, II, 251.
Pont Alexandre III., I, 163, 165,

167; n>6>i35*330>33i>334>

•?^i.^'*-^

de rAlma, I, 167 ; II, 32a

de TArcheylcfa^, I, 104.

d'Aicole, I, 104.

d'Ansterlitz, 1, 166; II, 147.

des Arts, I, 81.

an Change, I, so, 29; II, 339.

de U Cit^, 1, 81.

de la Concorde, I, 54, 306; II,
46» 60, 320.

an Dottble, II, 45.

de Crenelle, II, 5.

de Jena, I, 89, 90; II, I47» 3y>»
347.

des Invalides, I, 104; II, 347.

National, II, 162.

de NeniHy, I, 150, 301.

Nenf, I. 36, 54; II, 25, 26, 270.

Notre Dame, I, 2j, 29.

NoyeUes, battle df, I, 135.

Petit, II, 45-

dn Rol, II, 147.

Royal, 1,46; II, 211.

de Solf^rino, II, ^

St Blichel, II, 45.

SnUy, I, 232.
Ponte Vecduo, I» 29.
Porte Danphine, I, 166; II, 13&

Dor^e, il, 351.

Maillot I, i66s II, 23, 137.

Monnmentale, II, 332, 333,

339-
Neuilly, 1, 137.
d'OrUans, I, 166.
Point du Jour, 1, 153.
St Denis, I, 21, 46, 324.
St. Denis Arch, I, 302.
St Martin, I, 21, 46, 324, 325,

St Mhrtin Theatre, I, 325; II,

St Michel, II, 338, 339.

Poussin, II, 55, 104.

Poyet II, 63.

Pradier, I, 314; II, 134, S09.

Prtfanlt, II, 156.

Prefecture de Police, II, 27, 40^
300, 301.

Protestantism, abjuration of bv
Henry IV., I, 34; French
tolerance toward, 351; de-
cline of, 352.

Procope, Fran9ois, II, 224.

Provence, I, 7 ; II, 142.

Provenfsux Restaurant, II, 13a

Prussia, I, 84 {pass9m)\ II, 11
{passim) ; war with (1870), I,
131-135-

Puget P., II, 55-

Pyat, F^lix, 1, 149, 150.

Quels, Catinat I, 90 ; De BiOr, I,
00; Desaix, I, 90; de rHoi^
loge, II, 27; MontebeUo, I,
90; des Oifivres, II, 27;

d'Orsay, II, 6> 47t ^» ^^ 34>
359; St. Augustin, II, 46;
des Tuileries, II, 132; Vol-

taire, II, 46, 208, 209, 21a

Quartier Latin, I, 15, 143; lit >>t

25, I44> 224, 225, 229, 2^2,

339
Quatre Bras, battie of, 1, 94.
Quat'z Arts Caf^, II, 323.
Quinet, Edgar, II, 19, 221.

Rachel, Madame, II, 176^ 2i6»

«43. »45-
Radne, I, 48; II, 52, 237, 238,

243-
Rambouillet, I, 104.
Madame de^ II, 221,

400

INDEX.

Raphael, II, 2, 91, 92, 93, 96^ 97,

99, 102.

RasiMdl, II, 158, 166, 176, i8a
Ravaillac, I, 37, 346.
Ravignan, P^re, I, 246.
Ravy, Jean. I, 244.
R^camier, BAadame, II, 212, 215.
*« Red Terror," I, loi, 122, 1561
Reformed Church, the, I, 3^2.
RMpoault, owner of Pire la Chaise,

11. 173-

Henri, I, 337 ; II, 134, 157, 218.
Reign of Terror, I, 61, 338, 339,

343 {passim),
Rejane, BlUe., II, 255.
Rembrandt, II, 91, 97.
Remigiiis, the Archbishop, I, 9.
Renaissance Th^Atre, II, 256.
Renals, Sir Joseph, I, 161.
Renan, Ernest, I, 290; II, 19, 183,

211, 218, 219, 22a
Restaurant Anglais, II, 198.

Durand, II, 198, 200» 206.

de Madrid, II, 207.

Blarivauz, II, 204, 206.

Riche, II, 2oa

V^fonr, II, 130, 198, 19a 206.

Voidn, II, 198, 200^ 206b

Voltaire, I, 285.
Rets, Cardinal de, 1, 40, 41, 43.
Revolution, French, I, 56-72 (and

seeI,4,38,4S»5'»78.9i>99i

100, ios» ii4t 162, 184, 186,

190, 197, 204, 213, 219, 222,

24S, 255, 281, 301, 302, 301

}"» 3»9. 33*. 338. 343. 34^

24S. *SS «*^ 30*. 30*. 303.

3"» 3»9. 33». 338. 343. 34/;

II, 20. 32, 49, 54, 55, 56, 62,

77.89,90, 102. 114, 126,132,

135. 162, 165, 220, 238, 246^

249, 250, 308).
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 1, 187.
Rheims, I, 11, 13. 18, 24, 79, 233;
• II, 267.
Cathedral, 1, 8, 257.
Richard II., I, 251.
Richelieu, I, 34, 38, 44, 46, 48, 102,

281, 282; II, 8, 19, 49, 126.
Th^Atre, II, 127.
Rifle-shootmg in France, II, 277.
Rigault, Raoul, I, 150, 152, 154;

Robert, Duke of France, 1, 12.

Robespieire, I, 6^ 64, 65, iS4t ^Sfi^
1S6, 219, 3^; II, 7» 3^ 39*
58, 128, 132.

Robida, II, 88.

Rochefort, I, 97.
Henri, I, 149, 152; II, 281.

Rochefort-Lufav, Marquis de (see
Henri Rochefort).

Rochefoucauld, La, I, 222; II,

Hospital of, I, 54.
Rochelle, II, 158.
Rochet, II, 45, 166.
Rodin, II, 154.
Roederer (quoted), 1, 83.
Rohan, Chariotte de, if, 164.

Cardinal de, I, 221 ; II, ^
Roland, Biadame, I, 4; II, 33»

78.
Rollin, Charles, I, 40, II, 22a
Rome, compared witJi Paris, I, 3
(and/tf/iMs).

King of (son of Bonaparte), I,

Rond Point de VAtoile, 1, 301 ; 11,

'34.
Rondelet, II, 73.
Rossd, I, 152.
Rosshii, 11,78, 79^ 176, 177, 253,

265.
Rothschild, Baronesa de, II, 92;

BiL de, II, 14a
Rouen, 1, 5, 24, 190, 228, 257, 2661

II, 56, 267, 269, 364.
Rouillard, I, 20a
Rousseau (architect), II, 58.
Theodore, II, 106.
J. B., II, 52.
Jean Jacaues, I, 59; U, 52, 71,

i53t 318, 224, 227.
Rouvray, II, 135.
Rowing in France, II, 269-27a

qiub de Paris, II, 269.
Royal Library, I, 212; Menagerie,

I, 45; Printing Press, I, 39;

Yacht Squadron, II, 286b
Rubens, II, 91, 103, 119.

Rubini, II, 253.

Rude, I, 301 ; II, 13, 134, 1

Rumlsny, General de, II, 24.

I3.i34.i58»«83-

Rue de rAbbaye, I, 270.
de TAndenne Com^die, II, 224.

INDXX.

401

d'Anjoo, n, 77, 175.

d'Aasas, II, 231.

da Bac, II, lo; an.

Balxac, II, 233.

de B^ranger, II, 33a

Beiger, I, 32a

Boiaay d'An^aa, II, 387.

Bonaparte, 11, 55.

Bonrgogne, H. 7*

Biiae Maiche, I, 337.

Caaaette, II, aai.

da Caatiglione, 1, 8i, 3I8«

Chabrol, I, 104.

de Clichv, II, 317.

Qovia, I, 284.

Dareau, II, 117.

Delaborde, fl, 369.

da Dragon, II, 315.

d'Enfer, II, 311.

Fabcrt, II, 359.

da Faaboorg Montmartra, II»

229.
da Fanboarg Poiaaonni^ra, II,

330^ 212.
du Faaboozg St Honorf, II,

Fcydeau, II, 253.
de Crenelle, II, 6» 7, 3x3.
de la Harpe, I, 3x3.
Hoche, I, 333.
Imperial, I, 89.

Jacob, II, 320, 331.

Jacqaes-Coeur, I, 331.

Jean-Goujon, II, 3i(L

Jean Jacquea Rooaaean, 11, 337.

Le Peletier, II, 363.

de Lille, II, 310.

Mazarin, II, 338.

MoU^e, II, 308.

Monge, II, 30, 195, 330.

Monaiear>le-Prince, II, 333, 331.

da Mont Thabor, II, 3i0b 335.

Montmartre, I, 315.

dea Nations, II, 347, 348.

Neuve dea Matharina, II, 331.

de Notre Dame dea ChanuMi

II, 216,
de rOaest, II, 2ai.
de la Paix, I, 301, 313, 333$ II,

130. 192-
de Piqraa, II, 173.
da Qaatre-Septembre, 1, 314.

Radne, II, 333, 333.

de Rennea, I, 370.

dea Remparu, II, 339.

de Richelien, I, 313; II, 190^

337, 3J9, 350^ 364.
de RivoU, I, 81, 128, 313, 334,

335. 349» 350; II, 13«» aa5»

220.
Rovaie, I, 307 ; II, 63, 331.
Roilin, II, 32a
de la Sainte ChapeUe, I, 347.
Scribe, II, 368, 887.
de S^vign^, I, 185.
de S^vrea, II, 315.
St Antoine, I, 333, 335.
St Denia, I, 29, 199, 334.
St DominSqae, II, 3 11, 314.
St Georgea, II, 335.
St Honor^, I, 39, 393 ; II, 84.
St. Looia en I'De, II, 308.
St Blartin, I, 39.
Soafflot II. 69.
Taitbout, II, 375.
dea Taileriea, l( 131.
de la Toar d'Aavergne^ II, 317.
de rUniverait^, II, 310, six,

330.

de Varennea, I, 304.

Venddme, IL 33a

dea Vieillea Ecoiea, II, 339.

de la Ville r£y«qae, II, 333.
Rungia, I, X98.
Roakin, I, X89, 354; II, 317, 312.

Sacrtf Coenr, I, 395; II, I3, 79.
Saint- Amand, 1, 134, 304.
Saint-Cyr, II, 176.
Saint-riUaire, Geoffrey, II, 14&
SaintMand^, II, 168.
Saint Marceauz, II, 134.
Saint-Martin-de-R^, I, 307.
SaintSaena (quoted), II, 357.
Saint-Simon, I, 43, 49, 337 ; 11,

337, 338, 229.
St Antoine dea Champa, Abbej

of, 1, 14.
Aagaatin, chafch of, I, 76^ 77,

78.79-
Barthoiemew, Maaaacre of, I,

4, 28, 375, 351-354; II. Vf
346.
Bernard, chorch of, II, 74.

402

INDEX.

Ste. ClotOde, church of, I, 307;

M. 74. 79» iS6p 258-
St Cloud, I, 71, 81, 132, 153, 279,

289; II, 140, 210, 329, 270.
Denis (suburb), II, 270, 298.
Denis (patron saint oi Paris), I,

7. 330» U3» »58» 261, 263, 268,

270; 11,70,74,80.
Denis, abbey of, I, la
Denis, church of, 1, 15, 183, 192,

194, 214. 223, 228, 235, 251,

2W» 261-272, 273. 274, 277,

287; 11,56,77,179.

Etienne du Mont, 1, 14, 38, 229,

230. 243, 276^ 282-287; II,

20, 70.
Eustache, I, 38, 192, 258, 288,

290-292.
Ferdinand, chapel of, II, 23, 24.
Ste. Genevieve (patron saint of

Paris ; also dburch of), I, 1 1,

"3. 30. S«. 230, 274, 277, 283;

II, 69, 70, 71, 73, 74, 156 (see

also Pantheon).
Genevieve, school of, II, 220.
St. Germain, Bishop of Auzerre, I,

274; Bishop of Paris, I, 276;

town of, I, 27, 38, 43, 306 ;

II, 270.
Gennain TAuzerrois, I, 11, 26,

263, 273-276, 351, 353; II,

31. 246.
Gennain des Pr^, 1, 11, 39, 194,

255,270,276-279; 11,70.75.

102, 114, 179.
Gervais, I, 26, 295.
Helena, I, 81, 97, 107, 108, 208 ;

II. 214.
Hilaire, II, 176.
Honor^, I, 24.

Jacques de la Boucherie, I, 348.
Jean *d' Acre, II, 180.
Julien des Meurtriers, II, 338.
JuHen le Pauvre, I, 295.
Just, I, 64; 11,32.
Laurent, I, 11.
Louis, 1, 18, 19, 194 ; II, 45. 78.

159, 179 (and see Louis IX.),

70» 175, 214. 231, 245, 247,

251, 252, 253, 256, 258, 259,

268, 277. 281.
Louis, " Kitchens of," II, 30^ 37.

Louis d*Antin, chwch of , I, 54.
Madeleine, I, 243.
Marceauz (sculptor), II, 184.
Marcel, I, 230; priory of, II,

177.
Martin, I, 203, 268; market, I,

90-
Martin's Canal, II, 182.
Martin des Champs, Priory o^

I, 201.
Maurice, I, 268.
M^ry, church of (or St. Meni),

I, 26, 295, 335; hospital ot I,

54-
Omer, II, 23, 33.
Ouen, 1,91,92; II. 175.
Paul et St Louis, I, 38.
Paul, Anthyme (quoted), I, 23.
Philippe du Roule, chuich of, I,

54; 11.76.
Pierre, Bemardin de, II, 145,

218, 215.
Pierre de Montmartre, church

of, 1,295; n, 8a
Priyat Cemetery, II, 183.
Quentin, battle of, I, 13^, 142.
Roch, church of, I, 51, 287, 292-

29s; 11,258.
S^verin, church of, I, 22, 276^

277* 279-282.
Sulptce, church of, I, 14* 288-

290, 292.
Theophilus, I, 241.
Thomas i Becket, I, 245, 28a
Thomas d'Aquin, chur<± of, II,

76.
Vincent de Paul, I, 11, 104, 245,

271,276, 278; II, 70, 74.75-
Yoed, I, 194.
Samte-Beuve, II, 158, 160, 161,

211, 221.
Sainte Chapelle, I, 18, 203, 215,

227, 245, 247-261, 263, 277 ;

n, 30, 31, 66, 72.
Sala, G. A., I, 310, 317 ; H. 127*

129, 193, 204.
Salle Favart, II, 253.
Salm, Prince de, II, 58.
Salons in Paris, II, 283-284.
San Giorgio Maggiore Monastery,

Venice, II, ^.
Lorenxo, Florence, II, ii6b

INDXX.

403

Itfiniato, Florence, I, 265.

Zenoy Verona, II, 97.
Sand, George, I, 337 ; II, 53t 2io»

an, 223, 251.
Santa Croce, II, 79, 177.
Sandeao, Jules, II, 210.
Sardon, II, 255.
Saigent, John S., II, 122.
Sarto, Andrea del, II, 92.
Saaval I, 23, 50.
Savonnerie, the, I, 46, 47.
Scarron, I, 49.
SceaoZfll, 271,298.
Scherer, I, 7a
Scheffer, Ary, I, 246; II, 24, 106^

183.
Schlegd, the brothers, II, 231.
Scribe, Eugene, I, 337; II, 176,

233. «35-
Sebastopol, I, 199 ; siege of, 1, 207.
Sedan, battle of, I, I26» 133, 135,

136. i37» MI ; II. «8i, 528.
Seine, the river, crossed by

twenty-nine bridges, II, 25;

compared with the Thames

in respect to boatins and

scenery, II, 269, 270; fishing

iUf II, 270, 271 ; a kind of

cosmopolitan Venice, II, 369;

and see I, 5,8, 11,13. i5» 37

ei passim.
Seminary of St Sulpice, I, 104,

290.
Sens, Archbishop of , I, 4a
Serbardi^re, II, 228.
Seurre, I, 314.
S^vign^, Bladame de, I, 185, 187,

188: II, 53.
Sevres, II, 270.

Sewers, the Paris, II, 318 ei seq,
Sforsa, I, 212.
Sibonr, Archbishop, I, 243, 245,

284.
Siennois, 1, 352.
Sieyerts-Drewett (quoted), I, 189,

210, 256, 283, 294, 313, 349.

352; II, 50, 142,342,^56.
Siey*s,I, 73, 74; 11,9, 176^
Sigalon, II, 56.
Sigebert, I, 9.
Sismondi, if, 231.
Skatingv in Paris, II, 273.

Smith, Sydney, II, 10 ; Sir Sidney,

II, 176^ i8a
Socialists, I, 149, 162 {passimY
Sod^t^ Anonyme des Bains de
Mer, II, MO.

d'Escrime, II, 275.

d'Enconragement, II, 27 c

Nantique de la BCame, II, 269.
Sodety of Masters, I, 15.
Soissons, I, la
Soitooz, II, 47.

Soliman-el-Halir, assassin of Gen-
eral Kl^ber, II, 152.
Sombreoil, II, 162.
Sommeraid, M. du, 1, 19a
Sorbonne, I, 16^ 17, 25, 26, 220^

281 ; II, 16, 17. 18, 19, 2a
Sorel, French historian, I, 58.

Agnes, mistress of Charles VII^
11,168.
Sonfflot, II, 68, 70» 73.
Souli^, Pr^d^ric, II, 2CI.
Sonlt, Marshal, I, 9(S^ 107, iio^

302; II, 14.24,09.
Souvestre, E., II, 176^ 23a
Sporting Clnb^ Le, II, 289.
Square des Innocents, I, 320.

Montholon, II, 124.
Stael, Madame de, II, 9b 53, 58,

215, 231.
States General, I, 20, 21, 27 «r

passim,
Steiner. II, 337.
Stelnheil, I, 254.
Stephens, Morse, I, 58, 64, 71, 72,

Suchet, II, 176.
Sue, Engine, II, 234, 235.
Suger, I, 262, 265, 27a
SuUv, I, 33,35.37; 11,63.

Bishop Mauice de, I, 229, 230.
Suresnes, II, 269. •

Syria, French war with (Second

Empire), I, 130.
Syrian campaign of Napoleon

Bonaparte^ I, 70; II, 225.

Taine. H. A., I, 57, 99; H. **«•
Talleyrand, I. 85, 08; II, 7, 8, 9,

10, 214, 281, 286.
Talleyrand-P^rigord, Blarquis de

(see Talleynnd).

404

INDEX.

Talma, I, 337; II, 176, 210^ M7,

239-
Tamberlick, II» 176.
Tambarini, II, 253.
Telescope of tiie Ezpoaitioii, the

great, II, 360-361.
Temple, the, I, 20, 21 ; maiket, I,

90; auartier, 1,327.
Terrasse des Feulllants, II, 135.
Tenor, the, I, 63, 64, 353: II» ^

backer

Thackeray, W. M. (quoted), I,

108; II, 212.
Thames compared with Seine, II,

269.
Th^Atre de TAmbigu, I, 325.
dtt Ch&telet, I, 347.
des Folies Dramatiqaee, I, 325I
Fran9ais, I, 196, 275; II, 129,
224, 227, 237, 238, 230. 240,
244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 250,
251, 252, 254, 25s, 282.
■ Gu«n^gaad,II, 2^

dtt Gymnase, II, 191.

II, 25a
des Italiens, I, 323 ; II, 253.

de I'lmp^ratrice, II

de Paris, II, 254.

de la Porte St. Martin, I, 325.

de la Rennalssance, I, 325.

des Vari^t^ I, 323.
Thermae, I, 8, 197 ; II, 25.
Thielmann, General, I, 95.
Thierry, I, 224 ; II, 211, 221.
Thiers, I, 80, 107, no, in, 131,
136. 147, 148, 151, 152, 154.

156. iS7f 158. «59; n.4.10,

92, 176, 180, 194, 213, 231,

Thionville, I, 146.
Thomas, Ambroise, II, 185.
Clement, General, I, 149.
Thoyne, Jacaues, I, 348.
Tiers £tat, II, 7.
Tilsit, Treaty ol, I, 84.
Tintoretto, ll, 91, 92.
Tlppoo Sahibs 1, 105.
Tir National at Bou de THncennes,

II, 170.
Titian, II, 91, 93, 06^ 97, 98, 102.
Tocsin da Palais, II, 31.
ToUendal. Lally, I, 346.
Tortoni, II, 199.

Toudouxe, II, 254.
Toulon, I, 76; II, 161.
Tonlonse, I, 10; battle of, I, 30a.
Tour d'Aigent, II, 31.

Bomb^e, II, 31, 32.

de C^sar, II, 31.

de I'Horloge, II, 28, 29, 31, 37.

de Montgomery, II, 31.

de Nesle, I, 13; 11,48.

St Jacques Boncherie, I, 295,

348, J49. 350-
Vertbois, I, 202.
Toumelles Palace, I, 24, 2c
Tours, I, 147; Bishop of, 1, 28a
Treaty of Paris, II» 91.
Trianon, II, 239.
Tribunal de Commerce, 1, 259 ; II,

27,40.
Trinity, La, church of, II, 74, 76,

77. 78, 79-
Triqueti, II, 24, 176, i8a
Trocad^ro, the, I, 167, 208, 209;

^> 329» 330. 33«» 340, 3S3»

Trochu, i

lu. General, I, 137, 139, 140,
141, 142.
Trois Fr^res restaurant, 130, 199.
TYojres, I, 52, 249.
Treaty of, I, 23.
Tuileries, I, 28, 36, 38, 39, 51, 62,
66, 92, 93, 128, 153, 154, 219,

29a. 30»» 3oa» 304. 309f 3";
II. 25. m 62, 84. 86, 87, 88,
112, 118, 119, 13s. 155. «"t
274, 281; Gardens of the,

II, iy>-«34. 154.

Turenne, Marshal, I, 4s.
Turgeneff, Ivan, II, 235.

Union Artistique, II, 6.

Union of Gymnastic Societies, II,
276.

University, I, 14, 19, 21 ; II, 25.

Universities: of Bologna, I, 15,
16; of Bordeaux, II, 20; of
France, I, 77 ; II, i8, 20 ; of
Montpellier, II, 20 ; of Nantes,
II, 20; of Orleans, II, 20; of
Paris, I, 14,15,16,17; 11,18,
19, 20, 48, 157 ; of Salerno^ I,
15; of Toulouse, II, 2a

University Quarter, II, 208.

INDEX.

405

VaflUmt, Bfanhal, 11, 59b 6a
Val de Grftce, t A 267, aSa;

church of, I, 287-288.
VaUi^re, Due de, I, 223 ; Iflle. de

U, II, 168.
Valois, Margaerite de, II, 168.
Valsavne, l£ulame de, II, 276.
Van Artevdd, Jacquemart, I, 21.
Vandam*s ** Englishman In Paria,*'

cited, II, 210.
Van DjTck, A., II, 10a
VanEvck,II,38,Q6,98.
Vari^t^ Th^atre^ II, 255.
Va8aii,II,96.
Varennes, I, 55, 6a
Vauban, I, 53.

Vaucanaon, I, 202 ; his loom, 201.
VandeviUe Th^Atre, I, 323; II,

256, 262.
Vaudoyer, I, 203.
Velaaqnez, II, 91, loi, 102, 121.
VeUoni, II, 109.
Venddme Column, 1, 89^ 313, 32^

334; II, 26, 131, 133.
Venn, II, 243, 264.
VerUune, Paul, II, 324.
Verlet, II, 185.
Vemet, Horace, I, 246^ 30^ 3^ ;

Ilf I* 23> 57f 106, 121, 183,

209.
Veronese, Paolo, II, 96^ 97.
VereaiUes, I, 43» 45» Sh 6o» MS

147. I49» »50» IS». »S«. '53.
^SS» «56. i59» 264, 3?9; "•
16^ 61, 82, 81, 84, 88, 89, 104,

145, I59» 166^ 168, 222, 303,

317.
Very Restaurant, 11, 130, 199.
Veterinary College of Alfort, II,

163.
Victor Emmanuel, 1, 130, 305, 31 1.
Victoria, Queen, I, 129, 303, 305,

344; II, 129.
Vien, II, 133.
Vienna, siege of, I, 207 ; Trsaty

of, I, 84 ; Congress of, I, loa
Vieux Paris, II, 338, 339.
Vignaux, the «* French billiard

king," II, 278.
Vigne, the river, I, 165.
Vignv, Alfred de, II, 211, 235,251.
Villef ranche in the Pyrenees, 1, 207.

VUle de Paris, 1, 184; II, 138.
Villers-Bretonneauz, battle of, I,

»3S-
\miette. Marquis de, II, 209.
Wlon, Francois, II, 22, 324.
Vhicennes, I, 166, 335; it 162-

172, 268, 277, 330, 349. 350-
Vinci, Da, II, 9^ 9^ 98^ loa
VioUet-le-Duc, I, 209, 230, 231,

a33. a39» ;4^ a54. 263, 264,

26 J, 293; II, I79»i83-
Virgin Mary, worship of in France,

1.229.
Vlsoonti (architect), I, 109; 11,68,

86, 87, 176 r(mediKva) writer),

I, 212.

Vital, Abb^ de Savifiny, I, 218.
Vitu, A. (quoted), ij 32, 39^ 43,
Voisin, Colonel, II, xa, 3c.
Voltaire, I, 37, 59. iS^ 262 ; II, 9,

22, 26^ 52, 71, 153, 2o8» 209,

218, 224, 225, 232.
Von Moltke, 1, 140^ 141, 142.

Wagner in Parisian opera, II, 259.
Wagram, battle of, I, 84; II, 166.
Washington, D. C, compared with

Par&, II, 186, 19a
Washington Club, the, II, 291.
Waterioo, I, 93, 94-97, 208, 305;

II, 15, 129, 141, 147.
Watteau, II, 105.
Watts, G. F., II, 122.
Wavre, I, 94, 95.
Weber, II, 176, 251,

Weissenburg, battle of, II, 23.
* 'lington, Duke of, 1, 90, 94,
II, i6» 130, 147, t8o, 231,

Wellington, Duke off If 90, 94, 95 ;

"" i6» 130, 147, 180,231,2^.

Whistler, J. Bl, II, 122.

William of Prussia, I, 132; II, 9.
Wilna, I, 87.
Wimereaus, II, 34.
Wimpffen, M. de, II, 17^

Yacht Oub, II, 289.
Yver, Etienne, monoment oi; I,
242.

Zola, E., II. 53, 196^ 256^ 313.
Zurich, Switxerland, II, 356;

Russia's defeat at, I,
Treaty of, I, 13a

70;

^iru. SJ.^Ini^

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