B. THE OUTER RING OF LOUIS XIV
A second, and doubtless to the reader by this time more familiar walk, round the Great Boulevards, will suffice to give a hasty conception of the Paris of Louis XIV and his immediate successors. Even if you are already well acquainted with the route, go over it once more, if only on the top of an omnibus, at this stage of your investigation, in order to take your bearings more fully. It must be borne in mind for the purposes of this walk or ride that in the earlier mediæval period the district between the Boulevards and the central core consisted, for the most part, of gardens and fields, among which were interspersed a few rural monasteries and suburban churches. These last have long since, of course, become wholly imbedded in modern Paris, but I will note as we pass a few earlier objects which it may be interesting for those who have time to diverge and visit.
Start from the Luxor Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde (noting here and elsewhere the Roman reminiscence of the bronze ships of Paris on the gas-lamps—as you see them at the Thermes), and walk up the Rue Royale,—the first portion of the great ring of streets which girdles the city of Louis XIV. The Rue St. Honoré, to your R, was, before the construction of the Rue de Rivoli and the Champs Elysées, the chief road which led westward out of ancient Paris. The Porte St. Honoré stood on this site, where it crossed the barrier by the modern Rue Royale. Beyond it, the street takes the characteristic name of the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré; and all the other streets which cross the girdle similarly change their name to that of the corresponding Faubourg as they pass beyond it. These long straggling roads, lined with houses on the outskirts (Faubourg St. Honoré, Montmartre, St. Denis, du Temple, etc.), have finally become the chief residential quarters of the city at the present day.
The handsome classical building in front of us is the Madeleine—(Church of St. Mary Magdalen)—the last stage in the classical mania which substituted Græco-Roman temples for Christian churches and other edifices. (See previous stages in St. Paul and St. Louis, the Sorbonne, the Invalides, the Panthéon, etc.) Begun under Louis XV, it was not completed till the Restoration. In style it follows the late Roman variation on the Corinthian-Greek model. Notice, however, as you approach, that even this Grecian building bears on its purely classical pediment the stereotyped Parisian subject of the Last Judgment, with the Angel of the Last Trump, and the good and wicked to R and L of the Redeemer. Only, in this case, St. Mary Magdalen, under whose invocation, as the inscription states, the church is dedicated, kneels by the L side of Christ, imploring mercy for the wicked. Compare this last term in the treatment of this old conventional portal-relief with its naïf beginnings at Notre-Dame and St. Denis. It is also worth while to enter and inspect the chapels, the paintings and sculpture in which will reveal their dedications. (See also Baedeker.)
The Rue Royale forms the first part of the girdle of Louis XIV. From the Madeleine onward, we enter that wider part of this girdle which still distinctively bears the name of the Boulevard. To our L, Baron Haussmann’s quite modern Bd. Malesherbes opens up a vista of the recent and unsatisfactory Church of St. Augustin—a great ornate pseudo-Romanesque building, unhappily accommodated to the space at the architect’s disposal. Proceeding along the Bd. de la Madeleine, and then the Bd. des Capucines, we arrive in a few minutes at the Place de l’Opéra, undoubtedly the central nodal point of modern Paris. To our L stands the great Opéra House, erected at vast expense in the gaudy meretricious style of the Second Empire, and decorated with good, but too voluptuous modern sculpture. Two new streets branch R and L of it. Walk round them, and so take the measure of the building. To our R the Avenue de l’Opéra has been run diagonally across the older streets of Louis XIV’s town, towards the Palais Royal and the Théâtre Français. This is now one of the finest thoroughfares of the existing town. Nevertheless, the old Boulevard, above all in this part of its circuit, remains the centre of Parisian life, thought, and movement. Especially is it the region of cafés and theatres. Here also the older Rue de la Paix, one of the earliest fine open thoroughfares in Paris, leads to the irregular octagonal Place Vendôme, laid out under Louis XIV, and said to owe its canted corners to the king’s own personal initiative. [This Place is a good example of the best domestic architecture of the Eighteenth Century. Its centre is occupied by the great bronze column (Colonne Vendôme) originally erected by Napoleon to commemorate his victories. It was pulled down by the Commune, but (the fragments having been preserved) was re-erected after the triumph of the National party. Round it in a long spiral run a series of reliefs, suggested by those on Trajan’s Column at Rome: but while the Roman pillar was surrounded by a Forum of several stories, with open porticoes from which the sculpture could be inspected, the sculpture on Napoleon’s is quite invisible, except just at the base, owing to the lack of any similar elevated platform from which to view it.] The other great street diverging from the Place de l’Opéra to the R, the Rue du 4 Septembre, leads to the Bourse (uninteresting), and is part of the modern arterial system.
Continuing along the line of Louis XIV’s Boulevards, we reach next the Bd. des Italiens, and then turn obtusely round into the Bd. Montmartre. To our L lies the Faubourg of that name, long since swallowed up by the engulfing city. At the Rue St. Denis (the great north road of Paris), we arrive at one of the debased classical triumphal arches (Porte St. Denis) which Louis XIV erected in place of the ancient castellated gates. It is (more or less) decorated with contemporary reliefs representing his victories; these, and the inscriptions, are worth examining. Beyond the gate, the road to St. Denis, much traversed in earlier times by pilgrims, takes the significant name of Rue du Faubourg St. Denis. A little further on, the modern trunk line of the (Haussmannesque) Bd. de Sébastopol, hewn straight through the heart of the earlier town, intersects the old fortifications, leading R to the Cité, and L to the Gare de l’Est, in which direction it is known as the Bd. de Strasbourg. The next corner, the Rue St. Martin, which similarly changes its name to that of its Faubourg as it crosses the limit of the earlier town, is marked by a second of Louis XIV’s arches, the Porte St. Martin (not quite so ugly), whose sculpture is again worthy of notice on historical grounds, if not on artistic. [A little way down the Rue St. Martin to the R lies the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers (uninteresting internally) which occupies the site of the former Cluniac Priory of St. Martin-des-Champs, after which the street is still called. This was one of the principal old monasteries in the belt outside the girdling walls of Philippe Auguste, though included within those of Étienne Marcel. It was founded as early as the 11th century. The Conservatoire itself, as an industrial exhibition, is hardly worth a visit (except for technical purposes), but it ought to be inspected for the sake of the old church of the monastery which it contains (enter it to view interior; open on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays only) as well as for the fine Refectory of the 13th century, a beautiful Gothic hall, probably erected by Pierre de Montereau, the architect of the Sainte Chapelle, who also built the other Refectory, now destroyed, at St. Germain-des-Prés in the southern Faubourg. A little further on in the same street is the interesting Gothic church of St. Nicolas-des-Champs, with rather picturesque Renaissance additions. It stood, when first built, far out in the country. The fine west porch is of the 15th century. These buildings are chiefly worth notice as enabling the visitor mentally to restore the outer ring of monasteries and churches during the early mediæval period, afterwards englobed in the town of Louis XIV, and now in many cases adapted to alien modern uses.]
Return to the main line of the Boulevards, which here become distinctly shabbier and pass through a poorer district. This part of Paris is destitute of immediate interest, but should be traversed in order to give the visitor a just idea of the extent and relations of the eighteenth century city. We arrive before long at the Place de la République, formerly Place du Château-d’Eau, now adorned with a new bronze statue of the Republic. From this Place several more new Boulevards in various directions pierce through the poorer and densely-populated regions of eastern and north-eastern Paris. Along the main line, the Bds. du Temple, des Filles du Calvaire, and Beaumarchais lead hence through increasingly poorer-looking districts to the Place de la Bastille, where stood the famous strong castle of that name (Bastille St. Antoine), destroyed in the Revolution. Its site is now occupied by the Colonne de Juillet, erected to commemorate the Revolution of 1830. Hence the Rue St. Antoine leads R in one line into the Rue de Rivoli near the Hôtel de Ville. Beyond the line of the Boulevards, L, it takes the name of Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine. This was the region of the poorer and fiery revolutionists of 1789–93.
The district within the Boulevards in this direction was in the Valois period the most fashionable part of Paris. It contained the old royal palace of the Hôtel St. Paul, together with numerous other hôtels of the French nobility. From the Place de la Bastille, also, new Boulevards diverge in several directions. You had better return to the centre of the town by the Rue St. Antoine, where the third turning to the R will lead you direct into the Place des Vosges, a curious belated relic of the Paris of Henri IV. Its interesting architecture and quiet stranded air will well repay you for the slight détour, and will suggest to you the possibility of many similar agreeable walks in the same district. Mr. Hare will prove a most efficient guide to this quaint district, for those who have time to explore it thoroughly. Remember always that the least important part of Paris, historically speaking, is the western region which alone is known to most passing strangers.
V
THE FAUBOURG ST. GERMAIN
(Luxembourg, etc.)
[THE town on the North Side, we saw, was early surrounded by a suburban belt of gardens and monasteries. A similar zone encircled the old University on the South Bank. The wall of Philippe Auguste, you will remember, bent abruptly southward in order to enclose the abbey of Ste. Geneviève; but an almost more important monastic establishment was left outside it a little to the west. This was the gigantic abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés, whose very name betokens its original situation. This rich and powerful community, whose building covered an enormous area of ground on the Left Bank, and grew at last into a town by itself, was originally founded by Childebert I as a thank-offering for his victory over the Visigoths in Spain in 543. Childebert, it may be remarked, was one of the most religious-minded among the Frankish monarchs,—which is why we have more than once met with his effigy in Gothic sculpture. He was also one of those few Merovingian kings who especially made his residence in Paris. On the portal of the other St. Germain (l’Auxerrois), which has numerous points in common with this one, we saw him represented with his wife Ultrogothe and the earlier St. Germain, a naïve way of expressing the fact that the King and Queen first gave that church to the sainted bishop. At the Louvre, too, we saw his statue from this very monastery. Among the sacred objects which Childebert brought back from Spain was the tunic of St. Vincent, the patron saint of prisoners. When he was besieging Saragossa, he saw the inhabitants carry this tunic in unarmed procession round the walls; which so convinced him of its value that he raised the siege, on condition that he might take the holy object home with him. He also brought a large rich gold cross, ornamented with precious stones, from Toledo,—a piece of jeweller’s work which might probably be compared with the crowns of the Gothic kings preserved at Cluny. St. Germain, Bishop of Paris (who must not be confounded with his earlier namesake of Auxerre), recommended to the king the foundation of a new church and abbey, in order fitly to receive these holy relics. A church was therefore built in the garden belt outside the wall, and was originally dedicated (as was natural) to the Holy Cross and St. Vincent. The latter thus became one of the local saints of Paris, through its possession of his tunic; and his effigy may often be seen, with or without that of his brother deacon St. Stephen, on many of the older buildings of the city. We noticed him in particular on the portal of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, and on the frescoes within, though it was premature then to explain his presence. Note here that possession of the body of a Saint (St. Denis, Ste. Geneviève) or of some important relic (St. Vincent’s tunic, St. Martin’s cloak at St. Séverin) almost invariably gives rise to local churches, and decides the cult of local patrons.
Later on, St. Germain of Paris having died, was buried in turn in Childebert’s church of St. Vincent. His body being preserved here (as it still is), and working many miraculous cures, it came about in time that St. Vincent and the Holy Cross were almost forgotten, and the local bishop whose bones were revered on the spot grew to be the acknowledged patron of the mighty abbey which surrounded his shrine. Such of the early Merovingian kings as were buried in Paris had their tombs in this first church: their stone coffins may still be seen at the Hôtel Carnavalet. The abbey, which belonged to monks of the Benedictine order, grew to be one of the most famous in Europe: its name is still bestowed upon the whole of the Faubourg (long since imbedded in the modern town) of which it forms the centre. It was to the South Bank what St. Denis was to Northern Paris.
The existing church, of course (save for a few small fragments), is of far later date than the age of Childebert. Most of the Paris churches and monasteries suffered severely at the hands of the Normans: even those which were not then burnt down or sacked, were demolished and rebuilt in a more sumptuous style by the somewhat irreverent piety of later ages. This, the present church of St. Germain-des-Prés, belongs for the most part to the 11th century. It is therefore older than Notre-Dame or the Sainte Chapelle, and even as a whole than the greater part of St. Denis. It exhibits throughout that earlier Romanesque style which formed the transitional term between classical architecture and the pointed arches of the Gothic period. (What we call “Norman” in England is a local modification of Romanesque.) Portions of the building, however, show Gothic tendency; and the upper part is pure Pointed. Most of the Abbey has long since been swept away; a small part of the building still remains in the rear of the existing church. St. Germain should be visited if only on account of the fact that it is the earliest large ecclesiastical building now standing in or near Paris. Flandrin’s noble modern frescoes have given it of comparatively recent years another form of attractiveness.
During the Renaissance period, while many of the nobility fixed their seats in the eastern and north-eastern part of Paris-within-the-Boulevards on the Right Bank, not a few erected houses for themselves in the open spaces of the Faubourg St. Germain. The most magnificent of these later buildings is the Palais du Luxembourg, erected for Marie de Médicis, after the death of Henri IV, by Jacques Debrosse, one of the best French architects of the generation which succeeded that of Jean Goujon and Philibert Delorme. It was built somewhat after the style of the Pitti Palace at Florence, where Marie was born, and it exhibits the second stage of French Renaissance architecture, when it was beginning to degenerate from the purity, beauty, and originality of its first outburst, towards the insipid classicism of Louis XIII and Louis XIV. It was for this building that Rubens executed his great series of pictures from the life of Marie, now in the Louvre; while Lesueur painted his St. Bruno legends for a Carthusian monastery within the grounds. The gardens which surround it are interesting in their way as being the only specimen now remaining in Paris of Renaissance methods of laying out; most of the other palaces have gardens designed by Le Nôtre in the formal style of Louis XIV. The Palace is now occupied by the Senate: it is practically difficult of access, and the interior contains so little of interest that it may well be omitted save by those who can spend much time in being ushered round almost empty rooms by perfunctory officials. But the exterior, the gardens, and the Medici fountain should be visited by all those who wish to form a consistent idea of Renaissance Paris.
In the same excursion may be easily combined a visit to St. Sulpice, a church which occupies the site of an old foundation, but which was entirely rebuilt from the ground in the age of Louis XIV, and which is mainly interesting as the best example of the cold, lifeless, and grandiose taste of that pompous period.
The Faubourg St. Germain and the quarter about it, as a whole, are still the region of the old noble families. The western end of this Faubourg, especially about the Quai d’Orsay, is given over to embassies and political machinery, particularly that connected with foreign affairs. The South Bank is also the district of the Legislature, in both its branches. The Quartier Latin, however, has largely overflowed of recent years into the Luxembourg district and that immediately behind it, which are now to a great extent occupied by the students, artists, and other Bohemian classes.]
Cross the river, if possible, by the Pont de la Concorde. The classical building which fronts you proclaims itself legibly on its very face as the Chambre des Députés. But it has borne in its time many other names. This façade towards the river is of the age of the First Empire; the main edifice, however, is much older, being the Palais Bourbon, built in 1722 for the Duchesse de Bourbon. In 1790, it was confiscated, and has ever since been the seat of one or other legislative body, according to the Government of the moment.
You can go round to the back, as you pass, to inspect the original façade, in the style of Louis XIV, facing the little Place du Palais Bourbon. The interior is uninteresting, but has a few good pictures, which should only be visited by those whose time is unlimited.
The river front is on the Quai d’Orsay, the centre of modern political and diplomatic Paris. The building to the R of the Chamber is the official residence of its President; still further R, the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères. The broad thoroughfare which opens obliquely south-eastward, L of the Chamber, is the Boulevard St. Germain, which we have crossed before in other parts of its semi-circle. It was Haussmannized in a wide curve through the quiet streets of the Faubourg, and the purlieus of the Quartier Latin, with ruthless regularity. Many of the tranquil aristocratic roads characteristic of the region lie R and L of it; their type should be casually noted as you pass them. Down the Rue de Lille stands the German Embassy; on the Boulevard itself, R, the Ministère de la Guerre, and further on, L, the Travaux Publics. Other ministries and embassies cluster thickly behind, about the diplomatic Rue de Grenelle and its neighbours. To the R, again, the Boulevard Raspail, another very modern street, not yet quite complete, runs southward through the heart of the Luxembourg district. Continue straight along the Boulevard St. Germain, till you reach the Place of the same name, with the church of St. Germain-des-Prés full in front of you. (It may also be reached directly by the Rue Bonaparte; but this other is a more characteristic and instructive approach to the Abbey Church which forms the centre of the quarter.) Observe how the new Boulevard skirts its side, giving a clever effect of its having always been there; the front of the church is round the corner in the Rue Bonaparte.
The exterior, with the houses still built against it in places, though picturesque, has little minute architectural detail. The massive tower has been so much renewed as to be practically modern; but the Romanesque arches near the top give it distinction and beauty. The mean and unworthy porch is of the 17th cent.; the inner portal, however (though its arch has been Gothicised), belongs to the Romanesque church and is not without interest. Observe the character of the pilasters and capitals, with grotesque animals. Statues of St. Germain, of Childebert and Ultrogothe (as at the other St. Germain) and of Clovis, etc., which once flanked the door, were destroyed at the Revolution. In the tympanum are the unusual subjects of the Eternal Father, blessing, and beneath Him a Romanesque relief of the Last Supper (not, as commonly, the Last Judgment).
The interior still preserves in most part its Romanesque arches and architecture; but the lower part of the nave is the oldest portion (early 12th cent.); the choir is about a century later. Most of the pillars have had their capitals so modernized and gilt as to be of relatively little interest, while the decorations, though good and effective, are in many cases of such a sort as effectually to conceal the real antiquity of the building. The church was used during the Great Revolution as a saltpetre factory, and was restored and re-decorated in polychrome a little too freely under the Second Empire. A few capitals, however, notably those of the Baptistery to the L as you enter retain their antique carving and are worthy of notice; while even the modern gilt figures on those of the aisle are Romanesque in character and quaint in conception. (You can examine some of the old ones which they replace in the garden at Cluny.)
Walk round the church. The architecture of the ambulatory and choir, though later, is in a much more satisfactory condition than that of the main body. The arches of the first story are mostly round, but pointed in the apse; those of the clerestory are entirely Gothic. The detail below is good Romanesque; study it. Observe the handsome triforium, between the two stories; and more especially the interesting capitals of the columns—relics of the original church of Childebert, built into the later fabric. The choir, on the whole, is a fine specimen of late 12th cent. work. The Lady Chapel, behind, is a modern addition.
After having thus walked round the aisles and the back of the choir to observe the architecture, return once more to the doorway by which you entered and proceed up the nave, in order to notice the admirable modern frescoes by Flandrin (Second Empire). These are disposed in pairs, each containing subjects, supposed to be parallel, from the Old and New Testaments. Note in these the constant survival of early traditions, revivified by Flandrin in accordance with the art of his own period. The subjects are as follows:—
Begin on the L. (1) The Annunciation (treated somewhat in the traditional manner, the relative positions of the Madonna and the Angel Gabriel being preserved); typified by the Almighty appearing to Moses in the Burning Bush, as His first Annunciation. (2) The Nativity, as the pledge of redemption; typified or rendered necessary by the Fall. (The New Testament scenes are of course the usual series; those from the Old Testament foreshadow them, for which reason they are placed in the opposite from the chronological order.) (3) The Adoration of the Magi (reminiscences of the conventional, entirely altered by Oriental costumes and attitudes of submission); typified by Balaam blessing Israel—a famous picture. (4) The Baptism in Jordan (positions conventional, with the three angels to the L as always); typified by the Passage of the Red Sea. (5) The Institution of the Eucharist, very original in treatment; typified by Melchisedec bringing forth bread and wine to Abraham. Now return by the R side, beginning at the transept:—(6) The Betrayal of Christ by Judas; typified by the Sale of Joseph. (7) The Crucifixion—a very noble picture; typified by the Offering of Isaac, full of pathos. (8) The Resurrection; typified by Jonah restored from the sea, the whale being with great tact omitted. (9) The Keys given to Peter; typified by the Dispersion of the Nations at Babel. (A little thought is sometimes required to connect these subjects, which are occasionally, as in the last pair, rather to be regarded as opposites than types—the one remedying the other. Thus, the counterpart to the Dispersal at Babel is Christ’s command to preach the Gospel to all nations.)
Above this fine frieze of subject-pictures runs a course of single figures, grouped in pairs, on either side of the windows in the clerestory. They are Old Testament characters, from Adam and Eve onward, ending with John the Baptist, as the last of the prophets. But as all the characters have their names legibly inscribed beside them, I need not enumerate them; all, however, should be observed, especially Adam and Eve, Miriam, Deborah, and Judith. Hold your hat or a book to cover the light from the windows, if the glare is too great, and after a little while you will see them distinctly.
Now proceed again to the front of the choir. On either side are other mural paintings, also by Flandrin: L, The Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, very beautiful: R, The Bearing of the Cross. Round the choir, the Twelve Apostles: by the pointed arches of the apse, the symbols of the Evangelists—the angel, lion, bull, and eagle. Above all—an interesting link with the earlier history of the church—are the pious founders, Childebert and Ultrogothe; the original patron, St. Vincent, with his successor, St. Germain; and finally, Abbot Morard who rebuilt the church, substantially in its present form, after the Norman invasion. He is thus commemorated in the beautiful choir which represents the work of his successor, Abbot Hugues, in the next century.
Before leaving, observe, architecturally speaking, how a Romanesque church of this type leads up to the more complex arrangement, with chevet and chapels, in Notre-Dame and later Gothic churches. Note the simplicity and dignity of the choir. Note also the peculiar character of the vaulting, comparing it with the later type at Notre-Dame, and especially with the reversion to much the same form in Renaissance times at St. Étienne-du-Mont, and St. Eustache. In spite of its newness, much of the modern decorative work is extremely effective; indeed, as a specimen of almost complete internal decoration, this church, notwithstanding the cruel overlaying of its early Romanesque sculpture by gold and paint, is perhaps the most satisfactory of any in Paris, except the Sainte Chapelle. I strongly advise you to sit down for some time and inspect the capitals built into the aisle, and the beautiful Merovingian pillars of the triforium, with an opera-glass, at your leisure.
On quitting the church, walk round it for the view on every side, which is picturesque and characteristic. Behind it, in the Rue de l’Abbaye, stands an interesting portion of the 16th-century Abbot’s Palace—the only remaining relic of the vast conventual buildings, once enclosed for defence by a wall and moat, and containing a large lay and clerical population, like a little city. The sumptuous carved and gilded figure of Childebert, the founder, in the Mediæval Sculpture Room at the Louvre, came from the doorway of the old Refectory—a magnificent work by Pierre de Montereau (the architect of the Sainte Chapelle)—now wholly demolished. After you have visited each church, you will often find it pleasant to look out for such isolated works, divorced at present from their surroundings, and placed at Cluny or elsewhere. They will always gain new meaning for you by being thus identified as belonging to such-and-such an original building. For instance, in the Christian Antiquities Room at the Louvre, you will find an interesting capital of a pillar belonging to the Merovingian church of St. Vincent.
Now return to the Boulevard St. Germain, which a little further on occupies the site of the old Abbey Prison, famous as the scene of the massacres in September, 1792. Take the Rue Bonaparte on the opposite side, and go straight on till you reach the Place St. Sulpice, with its huge church in front of you. The building replaces an earlier one to the same saint: under Louis XIV, when the Faubourg St. Germain was becoming the quarter of the nobles, it was rebuilt in a style of ugly magnificence, befitting the maker of Versailles and Marly.
St. Sulpice, a vast bare barn, is chiefly interesting, indeed, as a gigantic specimen of the coldly classical type of church built under Louis XIV, when Gothic was despised, and even the Renaissance richness of St. Eustache and St. Étienne was decried as barbaric. It is a painful monument of declining taste. The exterior is chilly. The façade, whose sole recommendation nowadays is its size and its massiveness, is a triumph of its kind; it consists of two stories, with arcades of Doric and Ionic pillars superimposed on one another, and crowned with a pair of octagonal towers, only one of which is completed. The scanty detail of the sculpture is of the familiar character of the decadent period. But Fergusson praises the general effect of the exterior.
The interior consists of a cruciform pseudo-classical nave, with aisles, two bare single transepts, and a choir ending in a circular apse,—all vast, gloomy, barren, and unimpressive. The pillars and pilasters have Corinthian capitals, and most of the sculpture betrays the evil influence of Bernini. The holy water stoups, by the second pillars, however, are more satisfactory: they consist of huge shells, presented by the Republic of Venice to François Ier, standing on bases by Pigalle,—an effective piece of decorative work in this unpleasing edifice. As a whole, this chilly interior stands in marked contrast to the polychromatic richness of St. Germain-des-Prés, and to the exquisite Gothic detail of Notre-Dame and St. Germain-l’Auxerrois. The roof and false cupola contrast very much to their disadvantage with the charming Renaissance vaulting of St. Étienne-du-Mont and St. Eustache. Accept this visit as penance done to the age of Louis XIV. Save historically, indeed, this barren church is almost devoid of interest. Like everything of its age, it aims at grandeur: it only succeeds in being gaunt and grandiose. The very size is thrown away for want of effective vistas and groups of pillars; it looks smaller than it is, and sadly lacks furnishing.
Several of the chapels around this disappointing church, however, contain many good modern pictures: most of them also bear the names of the saints to whom they are dedicated, which largely aids the recognition of the symbolism. I enumerate a few of them for their interest in this matter. Right aisle (1) St. Agnes. Jacob and the angel: Heliodorus expelled from the Temple: by Delacroix. (2) Chapel of Souls in Purgatory. Religion brings comfort to the dying; benefit of prayers for the dead: by Heim. (3) Chapel of St. Roch, the plague saint. He prays for the plague-stricken: he dies in prison at Montpelier: by Abel de Pujol. (4) St. Maurice, the soldier saint. His legend: by Vinchon. Left aisle. The chapels here are chiefly dedicated to the newer humanitarian saints of Catholicism. (1) St. François Xavier. He resuscitates a dead man: miraculous cures at his burial: by Lafon. (2) St. François de Sales. He preaches in Savoy: he gives to Ste. J. F. Chantal the constitution of his Order of nuns: by Hesse. (3) St. Paul. His conversion; he preaches at Athens: by Drolling. (4) St. Vincent de Paul. He founds the hospital for foundlings, with the Sisters of Charity: he attends the death-bed of Louis XIII: by Guillemot. Chapels of the choir: L (1) St. John the Evangelist. His martyrdom: and his assumption. (2) San Carlo Borromeo. He ministers during the plague at Milan: he gives the sacrament to his uncle, Pius IV, on his death-bed. (3) Uninteresting. (4) St. Louis the King. He carries a dying man during the plague: he administers justice under the oak of Vincennes. Lady Chapel, a miracle of ugliness. Statue of the Virgin on clouds in a recess, by Pajon, lighted from above, and in execrable taste,—the worst feature in this insipid and often vulgar building. Bad statues and frescoes. The other choir chapels on the R side are dedicated to the older patron saints of Paris. (1) St. Denis. His preaching: his condemnation. (2) St. Martin. He divides his cloak with the beggar: he resuscitates a dead man. (3) Ste. Geneviève. She brings food from Troyes during the siege of Paris: miracles wrought by her relics. (4) Our Lady. Her Birth: her Presentation in the Temple, interesting as modern examples of the treatment of these traditional subjects. Over the door, N or L side, her Death: S or R side, her Assumption.
St. Sulpice has a reputation for good music.
The Fontaine St. Sulpice, in front of the church, is from Visconti’s designs, and has appropriate statues of the four great French preachers—Bossuet, Fénélon, Massillon, and Fléchier. The pulpit here is still famous for its oratory.
From St. Sulpice, the Rue Férou, to the R of the façade, leads you straight to the Luxembourg Palace. The long low building almost directly opposite you as you emerge is the
**Musée du Luxembourg,
containing the works of modern French painters. This, of course, is one of the most important objects to be visited in Paris; but I do not give any detailed account of it here, because the pictures themselves are entirely modern, and chiefly by living painters and sculptors, the various examples being sent to the Louvre, or to provincial museums, within ten years of the death of the artist. A visit to this Museum is therefore indispensable to those who desire to form a just acquaintance with contemporary art. But nothing in the Gallery demands historical elucidation. The visitor should provide himself with the Official Catalogue, which will amply suffice for his needs in this Gallery. I need hardly say that a proper inspection of it cannot be combined in one day with the other objects mentioned in this Excursion. Devote to it at least one or two separate mornings.
Turning to the L, as we leave the end of the Rue Férou, the first building on our R is the official residence of the President of the Senate; the second is Marie de Médicis’s
Palace of the Luxembourg,
now employed as the seat of the Senate. Walk along its façade, the work of Jacques Debrosse, one of the ablest architects of the later classicizing Renaissance, in order to observe the modified style of the age of Henri IV and Louis XIII, which it still on the whole preserves, in spite of modern additions and alterations. Note the gradual falling-off from the exquisitely fanciful period of the earlier French Renaissance, which produced the best parts of the Louvre and St. Eustache; and the way this building lets us down gently to the bald classicism of Louis XIV and Perrault. If you know Florence, observe also the distinct reminiscences of the Pitti Palace. Continue your walk along the whole of the façade, as far as the corner by the Odéon Théâtre,—the subventioned theatre of the students and the Quartier Latin. Then, turn into the garden, and note the rest of the building, whose façade towards this side, though restored under Louis Philippe, more nearly represents Debrosse’s architecture than does that towards the main thoroughfare. You need not trouble about the interior: though it contains a few good modern paintings.
The garden, however, is well worth a visit on its own account, both for the sake of the typical manner in which it is laid out, and especially for the handsome Fontaine de Médicis by Debrosse, on the side next the Panthéon. The group of sculpture in the middle represents Polyphemus surprising Acis and Galatea. Go round to the back, to see the (modern) Fountain of Leda,—that favourite subject of Renaissance sculpture. The best way back from this Excursion is by the Rue de Seine, which leads you past the Marché St.-Germain.
Another building in this district to which, if possible, the reader should pay at least one visit, is the École des Beaux-Arts in the Rue Bonaparte. This collection is interesting, both because it contains a number of valuable fragments of French Renaissance work, especially architectural, and also because of its Museum of Copies, including transcripts (mostly very good) of the best pictures of various ages, many of which are useful to the student of art-history for comparison with originals in the Louvre and elsewhere. Everybody who has not been to Rome, Venice, and Florence, should certainly try to visit this Museum; and even those who have made firsthand acquaintance with the masterpieces of Italian art in their native homes will find that it sometimes affords them opportunities for comparison of works widely scattered in the originals, which can be better understood here in certain of their aspects than in isolation. The building is open to the public, free, from 12 to 4 on Sundays; on week-days, non-students are also admitted from 10 to 4 (except Mondays), on application to the Concierge (small fee). I strongly advise a Sunday visit, however, as you are then less hurried, and also as the door on the Quai Malaquais is open on that day. This building should, if possible, be made the object of a separate excursion. It takes a long time to inspect it thoroughly.
Pass through the Tuileries Gardens, or across the Place du Carrousel, and traverse the river by the Pont Royal or the Pont du Carrousel. The second turn to the R, after the last-named bridge, the Rue Bonaparte, will take you straight to the door of the École. The building occupies the site of the old Couvent des Petits-Augustins; the convent chapel and a few other remains of the original works are embedded in it. Enter the courtyard. Here, during the Great Revolution, the painter Alexandre Lenoir founded his Musée des Monuments for the accommodation of the tombs removed from St. Denis and other churches. To his indefatigable exertions almost alone we owe the preservation of these priceless Mediæval and Renaissance relics. Under the Restoration, most of the monuments were replaced in their original positions, and we shall visit several of them later at St. Denis. To the R of the entrance in this First Court is the beautiful doorway of the Château d’Anet—that gem of Early French Renaissance architecture, which was erected for Diane de Poitiers by Philibert Delorme and Jean Goujon, by order of Henri II, in 1548: many objects from the same building we have already seen elsewhere. The portal is now placed as the entrance to the old Abbey Chapel. The end of this court is formed by part of the façade from the Château de Gaillon, erected for the Cardinal d’Amboise, Minister of Louis XII, and one of the favourite residences of François Ier. It presents mixed Renaissance and Gothic features, as did the sculpture of Michel Colombe from the same building, which we saw at the Louvre. Both these imposing works—the portal of Château d’Anet and this façade—should be compared with the Italian Renaissance doorway from Cremona and the Gothic one from Valencia, which we saw in the collection of sculpture at the Louvre. They are indispensable to a full comprehension of the French Renaissance. The Château de Gaillon was destroyed during the Revolution, and many of its finest monuments are now at the Louvre. If you have time, after seeing this Museum, go back and compare them.
The Second Court, beyond the façade, contains several fragments of buildings and sculpture, among which notice the capitals from the old church of Ste. Geneviève (Romanesque), and a fine stone basin of the 12th cent., brought from St. Denis.
Now, return to the First Court, and visit the former Chapel. It contains plaster casts, adequately described for casual visitors by the labels, as well as copies of paintings. These plaster casts, especially those of the pulpit from Pisa, by Nicolò Pisano, the first mediæval sculptor who tried to imitate the antique, will enable you to piece out your conception of Italian Renaissance sculpture, as formed at the Louvre. Do not despise these casts: they are excellent for comparison. Among the pictures, notice the copy of Mantegna’s fresco of St. James conducted to Martyrdom, from the church of the Eremitani at Padua. The fresco itself is a work of Mantegna’s first period, and I select this copy for notice because it will help you to fill in the idea you formed of that great painter from consideration of his originals at the Louvre. Notice, for example, the strenuous efforts at perspective and foreshortening; the introduction of decorated Renaissance architecture; the love of reliefs and ornament; the classical armour; and many other features which display the native bent of Mantegna, but not as yet in the maturity of his powers. Observe, again, the copy of Ghirlandajo’s exquisite Adoration of the Magi, with its numerous portraits, disguised as the Three Kings, the Shepherds, and the spectators, to which I have already called attention when speaking of Luini’s treatment of this subject in the Louvre. I do not enlarge upon these mere copies, as the originals will occupy us at Florence or Munich; but the student who has become interested in the evolution of art will find it a most valuable study to trace the connection, first, between these subjects and others like them in the Louvre, and, second, between these copies of works by various masters and the originals by the same artists preserved in that collection. Compare, and compare, and compare again ceaselessly.
The Inner Court, the Cour du Mûrier, leads to another hall, the Salle de Melpomène, entered on Sundays direct from the Quai Malaquais. This room also contains a large number of copies which are valuable for study to those who have not seen the originals, and which will often recall forgotten facts in new connections to those who have seen them. I would call special attention, from the point of view of this book, to the good copies of Raphael’s and Perugino’s Marriage of the Virgin: as the originals are respectively at Milan and Caen (two places sufficiently remote from one another), the composition of the two can be better compared here than under any other circumstances. As examples of development, I shall notice them briefly. Perugino’s is, of course, the older work. It was painted for a chapel in the Cathedral at Perugia, where it still hung when Raphael painted his imitation of it. First look carefully at both works, and then read these remarks upon them. The Sposalizio or Marriage of the Virgin, one of the set subjects in the old series of the Life of Mary, and often used as an altar-piece, consists traditionally of the following features. In the centre, stands the High Priest, wearing his robes and ephod—or what the particular painter takes for such: he joins the hands of Joseph and the Madonna. Joseph stands always on the L side of the picture, which Perugino has rightly assigned to him; though Raphael, already revolutionary, has reversed this order. He holds in his hand a staff, which has budded into lily flowers—the tradition (embodied in the Protevangelion) being that the High Priest caused the various suitors for Mary’s hand to place their staffs in the Holy of Holies, as had long before been done in the case of Aaron, intending that he whose staff budded should become the husband of the Holy Virgin. Joseph’s put forth leaves and flowers; and so this staff, either flowering or otherwise, is the usual symbol by which you can recognise him in sacred art. Behind Joseph stand the other disappointed suitors, one or more of whom always breaks his staff in indignation. Behind Mary stand the attendant maidens—the Virgins of the Lord—together with Our Lady’s mother, St. Anne, recognisable by her peculiar head-dress and wimple. (Compare Leonardo in the Salon Carré.) A temple always occupies the background. Perugino took the main elements of this scene from earlier painters. (You will find numerous examples in the churches and galleries at Florence and elsewhere.) But he transformed it in accordance with his peculiar genius and his views of art, substituting a round or octagonal temple of Renaissance architecture for the square Gothic building of earlier painters. Such round buildings were the conventional representation of the Temple at Jerusalem among Renaissance artists. The peculiar head-dress and the balanced position are also characteristic of Perugino. How closely Raphael followed his master on these points of composition you can see for yourself by comparing the two copies. But you can also see how thoroughly he transformed Perugino’s spirit; retaining the form while altering the whole sentiment and feeling of the figures. You see in it Perugino’s conception, but Raphael’s treatment. I have called special attention to these two pictures because they admirably illustrate the value and importance of comparison in art. You cannot wholly understand the Raphael without having seen the Perugino; nor can you wholly understand the Perugino without having seen the Ghirlandajos and Fra Angelicos, and Taddeo Gaddis which preceded it. Go from one to the other of these two pictures and note the close resemblance even in the marble pavement, the grouping of each component cluster, and the accessories in the background. Nay, the more graceful attitude of the suitor who breaks his staff in the Raphael is borrowed from a minor figure in the background of the Perugino. It is only by thus comparing work with work that we can arrive at a full comprehension of early painting, and especially of the relations between painter and painter.
I will not call special attention to the various other copies in this Museum. I will merely point out, as casting light on subjects we have already considered, Verocchio’s Baptism of Christ, Perugino’s group from the same subject, Raphael’s Entombment, Botticelli’s Adoration of the Magi, and Madonnas by Filippo Lippi, Giovanni Bellini, Correggio, and Mantegna. Many of these can be compared here and nowhere else. For those who are making a long stay in Paris, a judicious use of this collection, in conjunction with the Louvre, will cast unexpected light in many cases on works in that Gallery which it has been impossible here to describe in full detail.
The Amphithéâtre, approached from the Second Court, contains in its Vestibule a number of plaster casts, also valuable for purposes of comparison. The transitional archaic period of Greek sculpture, for instance, ill represented at the Louvre, is here well exemplified by casts from the statues in the pediment of the Temple of Athenè at Ægina, now in the Pinakothek at Munich. Compare these with the reliefs from Thasos in the Salle de Phidias. Similarly, casts of the Children of Niobe, belonging to the same school as the Venus of Milo, are useful for comparison with that famous statue. The Amphithéâtre itself, behind the Vestibule, contains Paul Delaroche’s famous Hémicycle, one of that great painter’s most celebrated works. Do not think, because I do not specify, that the other objects in this Museum are unworthy of notice. Observe them for yourself, and return afterwards to the Louvre time after time, comparing the types you have seen here with originals of the same artists and variants of the same subject in that collection.
VI
ST. DENIS
[ABOUT six miles north of the original Paris stands the great Basilica of St. Denis—the only church in Paris, and I think in France, called by that ancient name, which carries us back at once to the days of the Roman Empire, and in itself bears evidence to the antiquity of the spot as a place of worship. Around it, a squalid modern industrial town has slowly grown up; but the nucleus of the whole place, as the name itself shows, is the body and shrine of the martyred bishop, St. Denis. Among the numerous variants of his legend, the most accepted is that which makes the apostle of Paris have carried his head to this spot from Montmartre. (Others say he was beheaded in Paris and walked to Montmartre, his body being afterwards translated to the Abbey; while there are who see in his legend a survival of the Dionysiac festival and sacrifice of the vine-growers round Paris—Denis=Dionysius=Dionysus.) However that may be, a chapel was erected in 275 above the grave of St. Denis, on the spot now occupied by the great Basilica; and later, Ste. Geneviève was instrumental in restoring it. Dagobert I, one of the few Frankish kings who lived much in Paris, built a “basilica” in place of the chapel (630), and instituted by its side a Benedictine Abbey. The church and monastery which possessed the actual body of the first bishop and great martyr of Paris formed naturally the holiest site in the neighbourhood of the city; and even before Paris became the capital of a kingdom, the abbots were persons of great importance in the Frankish state. The desire to repose close to the grave of a saint was habitual in early times, and even (with the obvious alteration of words) antedated Christianity—every wealthy Egyptian desiring in the same way to “sleep with Osiris.” Dagobert himself was buried in the church he founded, beside the holy martyr; and in later times this very sacred spot became for the same reason the recognised burial-place of the French kings. Dagobert’s fane was actually consecrated by the Redeemer Himself, who descended for the purpose by night, with a great multitude of saints and angels.
The existing Basilica, though of far later date, is the oldest church of any importance in the neighbourhood of Paris. It was begun by Suger, abbot of the monastery, and sagacious minister of Louis VI and VII, in 1121. As yet, Paris itself had no great church, Notre-Dame having been commenced nearly 50 years later. The earliest part of Suger’s building is in the Romanesque style; it still retains the round Roman arch and many other Roman constructive features. During the course of the 50 years occupied in building the Basilica, however, the Gothic style was developed; the existing church therefore exhibits both Romanesque and Gothic work, with transitional features between the two, which add to its interest. Architecturally, then, bear in mind, it is in part Romanesque, passing into Gothic. The interior is mostly pure Early Gothic.
The neighbourhood to Paris, the supremacy of the great saint, and the fact that St. Denis was especially the Royal Abbey, all combined to give it great importance. Under Suger’s influence, Louis VI adopted the oriflamme or standard of St. Denis as the royal banner of France. The Merovingian and Carlovingian kings, to be sure—Germans rather than French—had naturally been buried elsewhere, as at Aix-la-Chapelle, Rheims, and Soissons (though even of them a few were interred beside the great bishop martyr). But as soon as the Parisian dynasty of the Capets came to the throne, they were almost without exception buried at St. Denis. Hence the abbey came to be regarded at last mainly as the mausoleum of French royalty, and is still too often so regarded by tourists. But though the exquisite Renaissance tombs of the House of Valois would well deserve a visit on their own account, they are, at St. Denis, but accessories to the great Basilica. Besides the actual tombs, too, many monuments were erected here, in the 13th cent. (by St. Louis) and afterwards, to earlier kings buried elsewhere, some relic of whom, however, the abbey possessed and thus honoured. Hence several of the existing tombs are of far later date than the kings they commemorate; those of the Valois almost alone are truly contemporary.
At the Revolution, the Basilica suffered irreparable losses. The very sacred reliquary containing the severed head of St. Denis was destroyed, and the remains of the martyr and his companions desecrated. The royal bones and bodies were also disinterred and flung into trenches indiscriminately. The tombs of the kings were condemned to destruction, and many (chiefly in metal) were destroyed or melted down, but not a few were saved with difficulty by the exertions of antiquaries, and were placed in the Museum of Monuments at Paris (now the École des Beaux-Arts), of which Alexandre Lenoir was curator. Here, they were greatly hacked about and mutilated, in order to fit them to their new situations. At the Restoration, however, they were sent back to St. Denis, together with many other monuments which had no real place there; but, being housed in the crypt, they were further clipped to suit their fresh surroundings. Finally, when the Basilica was restored under Viollet-le-Duc, the tombs were replaced as nearly as possible in their old positions; but several intruders from elsewhere are still interspersed among them. Louis XVIII brought back the mingled bones of his ancestors from the common trench and interred them in the crypt.
Remember, then, these things about St. Denis: (1) It is (or was), first and above all things, the shrine of St. Denis and his fellow-martyrs. (2) It contains the remnant of the tombs of the French kings. (3) It is older in part than almost any other building we have yet examined.
As regards the tombs, again, bear in mind these facts. All the oldest have perished; there are none here that go back much further than the age of St. Louis, though they often represent personages of earlier periods or dynasties. The best are those of the Renaissance period. These are greatly influenced by the magnificent tomb of Giangaleazzo Visconti at the Certosa di Pavia, near Milan. Especially is this the case with the noble monument of Louis XII, which closely imitates the Italian work. Now, you must remember that Charles VIII and Louis XII fought much in Italy, and were masters of Milan; hence this tomb was familiar to them; and their Italian experiences had much to do with the French Renaissance. The Cardinal d’Amboise, Louis’s minister, built the Château de Gaillon, and much of the artistic impulse of the time was due to these two. Henceforth recollect that though François Ier is the Prince of the Renaissance, Louis XII and his minister were no mean forerunners.
The Basilica is open daily; the royal tombs are shown to parties every half-hour; but the attendants hurry visitors through with perfunctory haste, and no adequate time is given to examine the monuments. Therefore, do not go to St. Denis till after you have seen the Renaissance Sculpture at the Louvre, which will have familiarised you with the style, and will enable you better to grasp their chief points quickly. Also, go in the morning, on a bright day: in the late afternoon or on dark days you see hardly anything.]
Start from the Gare du Nord. About four trains run every hour. There is also a tramway which starts from the Opéra, the Madeleine, or the Place du Châtelet, but the transit is long, and the weary road runs endlessly through squalid suburbs, so that the railway is far preferable. Start early. Take your opera-glasses.
From the St. Denis station, take the road directly to the R as far as the modern Parish Church, when a straight street in front of you (a little to the L) leads directly to the Basilica. On the L of the Place in front of the great church is the Hôtel de Ville, on which it is interesting to notice, high up on the front, the ancient royal war-cry of “Montjoye St. Denis!”
Turn to the Basilica. The façade, of the age of Abbot Suger, is very irregular. It consists of two lateral towers, and a central portion, answering to the Nave. Only the south tower is now complete; the other, once crowned by a spire, was struck by lightning in 1837. Observe the inferiority in unity of design to the fine façade of Notre-Dame, the stories of the towers not answering in level to those of the central portion. We have here the same general features of two western towers and three recessed portals; but Notre-Dame has improved upon them with Gothic feeling. The lower arches are round and Romanesque. The upper ones show in many cases an incipient Gothic tendency. The rose window has been converted into a clock. On either side of it, in medallions, are the symbols of the four Evangelists. Observe the fine pillars and Romanesque arcade of the one complete tower. Also, the reliefs of kings of Israel and Judah in the blind arcade which caps the third story in both towers. The coarse and ugly battlements which spoil the front are part of the defensive wall of the Abbey, erected during the English wars in the 14th century. Behind them, a little way off, you can see the high and pointed roof of the nave, crowned by the statue of the patron, St. Denis.
Now, enter the enclosure and examine the three round-arched portals. The Central Doorway has for its subject the usual scene of the Last Judgment. The architecture of the framework is still in the main that of the 13th cent. The relief in the tympanum has been much restored, but still retains its Romanesque character. In the centre is Christ, enthroned, with angels. On His R hand, the blessed, with the Angel of the Last Trump as elsewhere. On His L, the condemned, with the Angel bearing the sword, and thrusting the wicked into Hell: all conventional features. The Latin inscriptions mean, “Come, ye blessed of My Father”; and “Depart from Me, ye wicked.” Beneath is the General Resurrection, souls rising (mostly naked) from the tomb. To R and L of the doorway, below, are the frequent subjects of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. Above, on the archway, figures of saints and patriarchs, amongst whom is conspicuous King David. Notice in the very centre or key of the archway, Christ receiving souls from angels. To His R, Abraham with three blessed souls in his bosom (as at St. Germain l’Auxerrois). To His L, devils seizing the condemned, whom they thrust into hell, while angels struggle for them. Higher still, on the arch, angels swinging a censer, and an angel displaying a medallion of the lamb. This door formed the model on which those of Notre-Dame, the Sainte Chapelle, St. Germain l’Auxerrois, and many others in Paris of later date, were originally based. The actual doors have naïve bronze reliefs of the Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension. Notice the quaint character of these reliefs, and of the delicate decorative design which surrounds them,—broken, in the case of the Supper at Emmaus, by the figure of a monk, probably Abbot Suger, grasping a pillar. The Resurrection, with its sleeping Roman soldiers, and the Kiss of Judas, with Peter sheathing his sword and Christ healing the ear of Malchus, are also very typical. Do not fail to notice, either, the beautiful decoration of the pilasters and their capitals. All this is delicate and characteristic Romanesque tracery.
The other doors commemorate the History of St. Denis. On the South Door is a much-restored and practically modern relief of St. Denis in prison with Christ bringing him the last sacrament; it has been largely made up by the aid of the old French painting of the same subject in the Louvre. In front are figures symbolical of his martyrdom—the executioner, etc. On the sides, reliefs of the Months. On the North Door, St. Denis condemned and on his way to Montmartre, with his two companions, Rusticus and Eleutherius, chained; they are accompanied in the sky by the Eternal Father and the heavenly host. On the archway, interesting reliefs of the three martyrs, with an angel supporting the châsse containing their relics. On the sides, the signs of the Zodiac.
Walk round the North Side to observe the decorated flamboyant architecture of the chapels of the North Aisle (much later) with the flying buttresses above them. Also, the North Transept, with its rose window, and the peculiar radiating chapels around the apse, which form a characteristic feature of the Romanesque style. Observe these as well as you can from the extreme end of the railing. Return to Transept. The sculpture over the North Portal represents the Decapitation of St. Denis. On the centre pier, a Madonna and Child. R and L, Kings of Judah.
The South Side is inaccessible. It is enclosed by buildings on the site of the old monastery (not ancient—age of Louis XIV), now used as a place of education for daughters of Chevaliers de la Légion d’Honneur.
The interior is most beautiful. The first portion of the church which we enter is a vestibule or Galilee under the side towers and end of the Nave. Compare Durham. It is of the age of Abbot Suger, but already exhibits pointed arches in the upper part. The architecture is solid and massive, but somewhat gloomy.
Descend a few steps into the Nave, which is surrounded by single aisles, whose vaulting should be noticed. The architecture of this part, now pure Early Gothic, is extremely lovely. The triforium is delicate and graceful. The windows in the clerestory above it, representing kings and queens, are almost all modern. Notice the great height of the Nave, and the unusual extent to which the triforium and clerestory project above the noble vaulting of the aisles. Note that the triforium itself opens directly to the air, and is supplied with stained-glass windows, seen through its arches. Sit awhile in this light and lofty Nave, in order to take in the beautiful view up the church towards the choir and chevet.
Then walk up to the Barrier near the Transepts, where sit again, in order to observe the Choir and Transepts with the staircase which leads to the raised Ambulatory. Observe that the transepts are simple. The ugly stained glass in the windows of their clerestory contains illustrations of the reign of Louis Philippe, with extremely unpicturesque costumes of the period. The trousers are unspeakable. The architecture of the Nave and Choir, with its light and airy arches and pillars, is of the later 13th century.
The reason for this is that Suger’s building was thoroughly restored from 1230 onwards, in the pure pointed style of that best period. The upper part of the Choir, and the whole of the Nave and Transepts was then rebuilt—which accounts for the gracefulness and airiness of its architecture when contrasted with the dark and heavy vestibule of the age of Suger.
Note from this point the arrangement of the Choir, which, to those who do not know Italy, will be quite unfamiliar. As at San Zeno in Verona, San Miniato in Florence, and many other Romanesque churches, the Choir is raised by some steps above the Nave and Transepts; while the Crypt is slightly depressed beneath them. In the Crypt, in such cases, are the actual bodies of the saints buried there; while the Altar stands directly over their tombs in the Choir above it.
Look every way from this point at the tombs within sight, at the Choir and Transepts, and at the steps of the Ambulatory. Do not be in a hurry to enter. On the contrary, sit awhile longer in the body of the Nave, outside the barrier, and read what follows.
[The custodians hurry you so rapidly through the reserved part of the church that it will be well before entering the enclosure to glance through the succeeding notes, explanatory of what you are about to see. The remarks to be read as you go round the building I insert separately, in the briefest possible words, as aids to memory.
The tomb of Louis XII (d. 1515) and his wife, Anne de Bretagne (d. 1514), is the earliest of the great Renaissance tombs in France, and the first in order in this Basilica. Long believed to be of Italian workmanship, it is now known to be the production of Jean Juste of Tours, unknown otherwise, but supposed to be a Florentine. It is imitated from the Giangaleazzo Visconti, already mentioned, in the Certosa di Pavia. This tomb, the first you see, struck the keynote for such works of the Renaissance in France. It is a good and apparently French imitation of the Italian original, and it fitly marks Louis XII’s place in the artistic movement. Remember his statue by Lorenzo da Mugiano in the Louvre, and his connection with Cardinal d’Amboise and the Château de Gaillon.
The next important monument is that of Dagobert I (d. 638), the founder of the Abbey, probably erected in his honour, as a sort of shrine, by St. Louis in the 13th cent. In order to understand this tomb (which you are only allowed to see across the whole breadth of the choir), it is necessary to know the legend to which the mediæval sculptures on the canopy refer. When Dagobert died, demons tried to steal his soul; but he was rescued by St. Denis, to whom he had built this abbey, assisted by St. Maurice and St. Martin of Tours—a significant story, pointing the moral of how good a thing it is to found a monastery. The narrative is told in three stages, one above the other. (1) An anchorite, sleeping, is shown by St. Denis in a dream that the king’s soul is in danger; to the R, Dagobert stands in a little boat (like the boat of Charon); demons seize him and take off his crown. (2) The three saints come to the king’s rescue, attended by two angels, one swinging a censer, the other holding a vase of holy water; St. Martin and St. Denis see the tortured soul; the soldier St. Maurice, sword in hand, attacks the demons. (3) The three saints, attended by the angels, hold a sheet, on which the soul of Dagobert stands, praying. The Hand of God appears in a glory above, to lift him into heaven. These are on the canopy; beneath, on the tomb itself, lies a modern restored recumbent statue of Dagobert; there are also erect figures of his son Sigebert (restored), and his queen, Nantilde (original).
The tomb of Henri II (d. 1559) and his queen, Catherine de Médicis (d. 1589)—the third of any importance—was executed by the great sculptor, Germain Pilon, during the lifetime of the latter. (It was he, too, you will remember, who made the exquisite group of figures, now in the Louvre, to support the urn which was to contain their hearts.) As in many contemporary tombs, the king and queen are represented alive and kneeling, in bronze, above, and nude and dead in marble on the tomb below. (We saw a similar tomb at the Louvre.) A second monument, close by, to the same king and queen, has recumbent marble figures on a bronze couch,—Catherine is said in her devouter old age to have disapproved of the nudity of the figures on the first tomb—but as it was usual to distribute relics of French kings to various abbeys, such duplicate monuments were once common.
The tomb of Frédégonde (d. 597) from St. Germain-des-Prés, is a curious mosaic figure of marble and copper, almost unique in character. It is not of the Queen’s own age, but was added to her shrine in the 12th century. Most of these early kings and queens, founders and benefactors of monasteries, were either actually canonized or were treated as saints by the monks whom they had benefited: and tombs in their honour were repaired or reedified after the Norman invasion and other misfortunes.
Two monuments of the children of St. Louis, from other abbeys, carried first to Lenoir’s Museum, are now in this Basilica. They are of enamelled copper, with repoussé figures, executed at Limoges.
The most costly, though not to my mind the most beautiful, of the Renaissance tombs is that of François Ier (d. 1547). On the summit are kneeling figures of the King, his wife Claude, and their three children. The reliefs on the pedestal represent the battles of Marignano and Cerisole. This tomb, like that of Louis XII, is ultimately based on the Visconti monument in the Certosa, but it exhibits a much later and more refined development of French Renaissance sculpture than its predecessor. It is by Germain Pilon, Philibert Delorme, and (perhaps) Jean Goujon. The architectural plan is noble and severe: but it lacks the more naïve beauty of Jean Juste’s workmanship.
It was the curious custom to treat the bodies of French Kings (who, as royal, were almost sacred) much as the relics of the Saints were treated. Hence the head and heart were often preserved separately and in different places from the body to which they belonged. François Ier himself was interred here: but an urn to hold his heart was placed in the Abbaye des Hautes Bruyères, near Rambouillet. This urn is a fine Renaissance work by Pierre Bontemps. Taken to Lenoir’s Musée des Monuments at the Revolution, it was afterwards placed beside the king’s tomb in this Basilica.
Look out in the Apse for the Altar of St. Denis, and his fellow-martyrs. Near it used once to hang the Oriflamme, that very sacred banner which was only removed when a King of France took the field in person. It was last used at Agincourt. A reproduction now represents it.
The other monuments can be best observed by the brief notes given as we pass them. The arrangements for seeing them are quite as bad as those in our own cathedrals, and it is impossible to get near enough to examine them properly. Therefore, take your bearings from the Nave before you enter, and try to understand the architecture of the choir as far as possible before you pass the barriers.
Disregard the remarks made by the guide (who expects a tip), and read these brief notes for yourself as you pass the objects.]
Enter the enclosure.
North Aisle: L, several good mediæval recumbent tombs, mostly from other abbeys, named on placards. Read them.
Then, Tombs of the Family of St. Louis, recumbent, also named: 13th and 14th cents.
**Tomb of Louis XII, and his wife Anne de Bretagne, by Jean Juste of Tours. After the Certosa monument. Beneath, Twelve Apostles; four allegorical figures of Virtues: king and queen, in centre, recumbent; above, on canopy, king and queen kneeling. On base, reliefs of his Italian victories.
R, column commemorating Henri III, by Barthélemy Prieur.
Stand by steps leading to raised Ambulatory, only point of view for **Tomb of Dagobert, on opposite side of choir, 13th cent. Legend of his soul, see above. Erect statues of Sigebert, his son, and Nantilde, his queen. Insist on time to view it with opera-glass.
L, **Tomb of Henry II and Catherine de Médicis. King and queen recumbent, in marble, below; kneeling, in bronze, above. At corners, the four cardinal virtues, bronze. Also after Certosa.
Ascend steps to Ambulatory.
Below, monuments of the Valois family.
Above, L, second monument of Henri II and Catherine de Médicis, recumbent marble on bronze mattress. Observe monograms of H and D, as on Louvre.
Proceed round Ambulatory. Chapels to the L have stained-glass windows of 12th and 13th cents. Interesting subjects, which note in passing. **Beautiful view across the church as you pass the transepts.
In the centre of the apse of the Choir (above the tombs in Crypt), is the Altar of St. Denis, with his fellow-martyrs, St. Rusticus and St Eleutherius—modern imitation of the original shrine, broken at the Revolution. During the neuvaine (nine days after St. Denis’ day—Oct. 9) the Reliquaries are exposed in the Nave, near the barrier. On one side of the Altar is a reproduction of the Oriflamme.
Beyond this Altar, continue along the South Side of the Ambulatory, to the Sacristy. Modern paintings, here, relating to the History of the Abbey. Labels beneath describe their subjects.
Adjoining it is the Treasury, containing only uninteresting modern church utensils.
Beyond the Sacristy, Tomb of Frédégonde, from St. Germain-des-Prés. Hands, feet, and face probably once painted.
Descend steps from ambulatory.
Descend to Crypt.
This, the oldest portion of the existing building, was erected by Suger, to contain the Tombs of the Three Martyrs, buried under their altar. Its architecture is the most interesting of all in the Basilica. Notice the quaint Romanesque capitals of the columns. In the centre, bones of the Royal Family, within the grating. Neglect them, and observe the arches.
In the Crypt Chapels, uninteresting modern statues (Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI, colossal figures for the Monument of the Duc de Berry, etc.). Neglect these also, and observe rather the architecture and good fragments of glass in windows, particularly a very naïve Roasting of St. Lawrence.
Return to church.
Monument of Du Guesclin, 1380.
Louis de Sancerre, 1402.
Renée de Longueville, from the Church of the Célestins.
Blanche and Jean, children of St. Louis, enamelled copper, Limoges; from other abbeys.
**François Ier, his wife, Claude, and their three children, above. On pedestal, Scenes from his battles; High Renaissance work: Philibert Delorme, Germain Pilon, and Jean Goujon. More stately, but less interesting than Louis XII.
**Urn, to contain heart of François Ier, from the nunnery of Hautes Bruyères.
Louis d’Orléans and Valentine of Milan, from the Church of the Célestins.
Charles d’Étampes; 1336, with 24 small figures of saints.
Leave the enclosure and return to the church. I advise you then to read this all over again, and finally, go round a second time, to complete the picture.
The Abbey and Church are closely bound up at every turn with French history. In Dagobert’s building, in 754, Pope Stephen II, flying from the Lombards, consecrated Charlemagne and his brother Carloman. In the existing Basilica, St. Louis took down the Oriflamme to set forth on his Crusade; and Joan of Arc hung up her armour as a votive offering after the siege of Orleans. But indeed, St. Denis played an important part in all great ceremonials down to the Revolution, and its name occurs on every page of old French history.
On your return to Paris, you may find this a convenient moment to visit St. Vincent de Paul, which lies two minutes away from the Gare de Nord.
After visiting St. Denis the reader will probably find it desirable to examine certain objects from the Treasury of the Basilica now preserved in the Louvre. They are mostly contained in the Galerie d’Apollon, in the glass case nearest the window which looks out upon the Seine. (Position of cases liable to alteration: if not here, look out for it elsewhere in the same room.) The most important of these objects is an antique Egyptian vase in porphyry, which Abbot Suger had mounted in the 12th cent. in a silver-gilt frame, as an eagle. It contains an inscription composed by the Abbot in Latin hexameters, and implying that it was to be used for the service of the altar. Near it is an antique Roman sardonyx vase, also mounted as a jug by Suger in the 12th cent., and from the same Treasury: its inscription says, “I, Suger, offer this vase to the Lord.” Also, another in rock-crystal, which has been similarly treated: it bears the name of Alienor d’Aquitaine: she gave it to Louis VII, who passed it on to Suger: a 12th cent. inscription on the base records these facts, as well as its dedication to Sts. Rusticus and Eleutherius. The same case contains a beautiful Carlovingian serpentine paten, which formed part of the treasure of Dagobert’s Abbey. Observe, close by, the beautiful silver-gilt Madonna, characteristic French work of the 14th cent., offered by Queen Jeanne d’Evreux to the Abbey of St. Denis, and bearing an easily-deciphered inscription in old French. Note that the Madonna in this royal offering carries in her hand the fleur-de-lis of France. Compare this work mentally with the other early French Madonnas we have already observed in the Mediæval Sculpture Room.
Among other objects in this same case observe the curious double cross, with cover and lid to contain it; where the inscription above the head of the inner cross indicates the natural origin of the doubling. Close inspection of this object will explain to you many little points in others. Several similar Crucifixions, with Madonna and St. John and attendant angels, are in the same room: compare them with it. To the R is a good relief of the Maries at the Sepulchre; a double crucifix with St. John and the Madonna; and a reliquary fashioned to contain the arm of St. Louis of Toulouse. Most of these objects are sufficiently explained by the labels: the antique inscriptions, sometimes in Greek, are easily legible. (Beautiful view out of window to L.)
The examination of this case will form a point of departure for the visitor who cares to examine the minor art-works in the Galerie d’Apollon and other rooms of the Louvre. I have left them till now, for the sake of the peg on which to hang them. I will therefore note here, in this connection, one or two other things which may assist the reader in the examination of the remainder, leaving him, as usual, to fill in the details of the scheme by personal observation and comparison of objects.
Walk down the centre of the Galerie d’Apollon, on the side towards the windows, passing the tawdry crown jewels, and the many exquisite Classical or Renaissance works in the cabinet beyond it, all of which you can afterwards examine at your leisure. (Some of the antique busts in precious stones come from Abbey Treasuries, where they were preserved and sanctified during the Middle Ages.) But in the last case save one, observe, near the centre, a very quaint little figure of St. Lawrence, lying comfortably on his gridiron, and holding in his hands a tiny reliquary, almost as big as himself—a finger with a nail on it, intended for the reception of a bone of the Saint’s own little finger. This odd little reliquary, French 14th cent., when compared with that for the arm of St. Louis of Toulouse, will help you to understand many similar reliquaries, both here and elsewhere. The martyr is put there as a mode of signifying the fact—“This is a bone of St. Lawrence.” Above it, note again five charming crosiers, containing respectively representations of the Madonna enthroned, the Annunciation, the Coronation of the Virgin, again the Annunciation, and a decorative design of great beauty. Note their date and place of origin on the labels. When once your attention has been called to the occurrence of such definite scenes in similar objects, you will be able to recognise them at once for yourself in many like situations. In the Annunciation to the L, observe once more the very odd way in which the usual lily is carefully obtruded between the angel Gabriel and Our Lady. Some obvious barrier between the two was demanded by orthodoxy: here, the decorative device by which the difficulty has been surmounted is clever and effective. Between this crosier and that of the Coronation, look again at a queer little reliquary, held by the Madonna and Child, with a glass front for the exhibition of the relic. Another Madonna, close by to the L, similarly holds on her lap a charming little reliquary basin. The same case contains several coffers and reliquaries in champlevé enamel, the most interesting of which is the Coffer of St. Louis, with decorative designs showing Romanesque tendencies. At the far end of the case, two charming silver-gilt angels, 14th cent., also bearing reliquaries. Examine in detail all the objects in this most interesting case. They will help, I hope, to throw light upon others which you will see elsewhere.
I do not intend to go at equal length through all the cases in this interesting room; but your visit to St. Denis ought now to have put you in a fit frame of mind for comprehending the meaning of most of these works by the light of the hints already given. I will only therefore call special attention to the beautiful decorative box, containing a book of the Gospels, in French enamel-work and jewellery of the 11th cent., in the last window on the right, before you reach the Rotonde d’Apollon. This valuable book-cover is also from the Abbey Treasury of St. Denis. It exhibits the usual Crucifixion, with the Madonna and St. John, and the adoring angels, together with figures of the symbols of the Evangelists, whose names are here conveniently attached to them. The next case, to the R of this one, also contains champlevé enamels of the 12th and 13th cents., all of which should similarly be examined. Note among them, to the extreme R in the case, a very quaint quatrefoil with St. Francis receiving the Stigmata; a subject with which you will already be familiar from Giotto’s treatment, and whose adaptation here to a decorative purpose is curious and enlightening. Next to it, L, a Death of the Virgin. Further on, two delicious little plaques—one, of Abraham and Melchisedech, with St. Luke—(Abraham, as soldier, being attired in the knightly costume of the Bayeux Tapestry); and the other of the Offering of Isaac, with St. Mark; two of a series of the Evangelists with Old Testament subjects. Above these, the Emperor Heraclius killing Chosroes, with cherubim. Still higher, a most exquisite Adoration of the Magi. Also Christ in Glory, in a mandorla, with the symbols of the Evangelists; and two closely similar Crucifixions, with a Madonna and St. John, and adoring angels. Compare these with the similar subject in the first case we visited. This frame also contains three charming saints in Byzantine style, a good St. Matthew, and a little King David holding a psalter. Do not leave one of the objects in this window unidentified and unexamined.
I notice all these decorative treatments here merely in order to suggest to the reader the way in which the knowledge he has gained of the fabric of St. Denis may be utilised to examine works of art from the great Abbey both here and at Cluny. You will find it useful to visit both collections on your return from such a church, in order to mentally replace in their proper surroundings works now divorced from it. Some other good objects from the same Treasury may also be seen at the Bibliothèque Nationale.
VII
THE OUTER RING, ETC.
[PARIS, outside the great Boulevards comprises by far the larger part of the existing city. Nevertheless, it contains comparatively few objects of historical or artistic importance, being almost entirely modern and merely residential. Walks and drives in this part of Paris are pleasing, of course, as exhibiting the life of the great town, and they embrace many points of passing interest, such as the Trocadéro, the Champs Élysées, the Champ-de-Mars, the Place de l’Étoile, the Arc de Triomphe, the Parc Monceau, the church of the Sacré-Cœur on the height of Montmartre, etc., etc. Most of these the visitor will find out for himself. They do not need any explanation or elucidation.
Among the very few objects of historical interest in this district, I would call special attention to the Maison de François Ier, on the Cours-la-Reine, at the first corner after you pass the Palais de l’Industrie. This beautiful little gem of domestic Renaissance architecture was erected for François Ier at Moret, near Fontainebleau, in 1527, probably as a gift for Diane de Poitiers, the mistress of Henri II, though it is also asserted that the king built it for his sister, Queen Margaret of Navarre. It was taken down in 1826, and rebuilt on the present site. The style recalls that of the Renaissance palaces of Venice. The delicate and beautiful decorative work of the pilasters, etc., and the dainty portrait medallions deserve inspection. Do not miss this charming little building, which should be compared with Jean Goujon’s portion of the Louvre, and with the Renaissance remains at the École des Beaux-Arts and elsewhere.
A collection to which a few hours may be devoted, in the same connection, by those who have time, is the Musée Carnavalet, which lies, however, within the Boulevards. The building is a fine Renaissance mansion, once the residence of Madame de Sévigné. Many of the objects preserved here have a purely sentimental and to say the truth somewhat childish interest, consisting as they do of relics of the Great Revolution or other historical events, which derive whatever value they happen to possess from their sentimental connection only. But some of the objects have real artistic and historical importance; so have the decorations by Jean Goujon. When you have seen everything else enumerated here, you may give with advantage a Thursday morning to this somewhat scratch collection. The most important objects are those in the garden.
For the Champs Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe, and the other buildings or promenades of wealthy, modern, western Paris, the guidance of Baedeker is amply sufficient.
The buildings already enumerated and the objects noted in them form the most important sights in Paris, and are as many as the tourist is likely to find time for visiting during a stay of some weeks. If, however, he can add a few days to his sojourn, I give briefly some hints as to a list of other objects worthy his notice—taking it for granted, of course, that he will find his way to the Champs Élysées, the Bois de Boulogne, the theatres, etc., by the light of nature, not unaided by Baedeker. Amid the mass of information tendered in the ordinary Guides, the visitor scarcely knows how to distinguish the necessary from the optional. This short list may help him in his selection.
In the old region on the South Side (between the river and Cluny) are two churches worth inspection by the antiquarian: (1) St. Julien-le-Pauvre, the former chapel of the old Hôtel Dieu, which here occupied both banks, spreading to the spot now covered by the statue of Charlemagne; transitional; 12th cent.; and (2) St. Séverin, dedicated to two local Gallic saints, of the same name; good flamboyant Gothic; its interesting portal commemorates St. Martin, part of whose famous cloak was kept in a chapel here; the façade was brought from St. Pierre-aux-Bœufs, on the Île de la Cité, demolished in 1837; good modern reliefs on altar represent episodes in the lives of the two saints—St. Séverin the Abbot healing Clovis, and St. Séverin the Hermit ordaining St. Cloud. Altogether, a church to be visited and understood, rich in historic interest.
Among churches of the later period, the domes and their development are worthy of study, as illustrating the ideal of the 17th and 18th cents. The earliest was St. Paul et St. Louis (originally Jesuit), 1627, with a massive and gaudy Louis XIV doorway; interior, florid and tawdry, after the Jesuit fashion. Next comes the Sorbonne, 1635, interesting from its original connection with St. Louis (his confessor, Robert de Sorbon, founded the hostel, of which this is the far later church, for poor theological students); it is the first important dome, and contains an overrated monument to Richelieu by Lebrun, executed by Girardon. If you have plenty of time, you may visit it. Then the Invalides, 1705, now containing the tomb of Napoleon. Lastly, the Panthéon, already described. If visited in this order, they form an instructive series. Note the gradual increase in classicism, which culminates in the Madeleine. The earlier domes resemble those of the Rome of Bernini: the later grow more and more Grecian in their surroundings. The Institut (included here for its dome) and Val-de-Grâce are sufficiently inspected with a glance in passing.
The churches of the innermost Paris are mostly dedicated to local saints; those of the outer ring of Louis XIV to a somewhat wider circle of Catholic interest; among them, St. Roch, the famous plague-saint, deserves a visit; it is rococo and vulgar, but representative. The churches in the outer ring are of still broader dedication, often to newer saints of humanitarian or doctrinal importance. Among these quite modern buildings, St. Vincent-de-Paul ranks first, on account of its magnificent frieze by Flandrin, running round the nave, and representing a procession of saints and martyrs, suggested by the mosaics in Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo at Ravenna; this the visitor should on no account omit; it lies near the Gare du Nord, and is a good example of the basilica style, successfully adapted to modern needs. Baedeker will here efficiently serve you. But, though artistically fine, Flandrin’s frescoes are not nearly so effective as the original mosaics in Theodoric’s basilica. The other great modern churches—St. Augustin, St. Ambroise, La Trinité, Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, Ste. Clotilde, etc.—need only be visited by those who have plenty of time, and who take an intelligent interest in contemporary Catholicism. But, if you can manage it, you should certainly mount the hill of Montmartre, the most sacred site in Paris, both for the sake of the splendid view, for the memories of St. Denis (the common legend says, beheaded here; a variant asserts, buried for the first time before his translation to the Abbey of St. Denis), and for the interesting modern Byzantine-Romanesque pile of the Sacré-Cœur which now approaches completion. Close by is the quaint old church of St. Pierre-de-Montmartre, and behind it a curious belated Calvary.
Those whom this book may have interested in church-lore will find very full details on all these subjects in Miss Beale’s “Churches of Paris.” Another useful book is Lonergan’s “Historic Churches of Paris.” With the key I have striven to give, and the aid of these works, the visitor should be able to unlock for himself the secrets of all the churches.
Two pretty little parks which deserve a passing visit are the Parc Monceau, near the Ternes, and still more, the Buttes Chaumont, in the heart of the poor district of La Villette and Belleville, showing well what can be done by gardening for the beautification of such squalid quarters. The Jardin d’Acclimatation in the Bois de Boulogne, and the Jardin des Plantes, at the extreme east end of the South Side are both interesting, especially to the zoologist and botanist. The last-named is best reached by a pleasant trip on one of the river steamers.
Of collections, not here noted, the most important is the Musée Guimet of Oriental art, near the Trocadéro. It should be visited (if time permits) by all who are interested in Chinese, Japanese, and Indian products. The Trocadéro itself contains a good collection of casts, valuable for the study of comparative plastic development; but they can only be used to effect by persons who can afford several days at least to study them (in other words, residents). The Ethnographical Museum in the same building is good, but need only detain those who have special knowledge in the subject.
To know what to avoid is almost as important as to know what to visit. Under this category, I may say that no intelligent person need trouble himself about Père-Lachaise and the other cemeteries; the Catacombs; the various Halles or Markets; the interiors of the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers (except so far as above indicated), the Bourse, the Banque de France, the Bibliothèque Nationale (unless, of course, he is a student and wishes to read there), the Archives, the Imprimerie Nationale, the various Courts and Public Offices, the Gobelins Manufactory, the Sèvres porcelain works, the Institut, the Mint, the Invalides, the Chamber of Deputies, the buildings in the Champ-de-Mars (except while the Salon there is open), the Observatory, and so forth. In Paris proper, I think I have enumerated above almost everything that calls for special notice from any save specialists.
Three Excursions from Paris are absolutely indispensable for any one who wishes to gain a clear idea of the France of the Renaissance and the succeeding epoch.
The first, and by far the most important of these, is that to Fontainebleau, a visit to which is necessary in order to enable you properly to fill in the mental picture of the change wrought by François Ier and his successors in French art and architecture. It is an inevitable complement to your visits to the Louvre. This excursion, however, should only be made after the visitor has thoroughly seen and digested the Renaissance collections in the Louvre, and the École des Beaux-Arts, as well as the Tombs of the Kings at St. Denis. Baedeker is an amply sufficient guide for this the most interesting and instructive excursion that can be made from Paris. One day suffices for a visit to the Château and a glimpse of the Forest; though a week can be pleasantly spent in this charming region. After your return, you will do well to visit the Renaissance Sculpture at the Louvre again. Many of the works will gain fresh meaning for you after inspection of the surroundings for which they were designed, and the architecture which formed their natural setting.
The second excursion, also valuable from the point of view of the study of the Renaissance, is that to St. Germain, where the Château itself, and the exquisite view from the Terrace, are almost equally delightful. Those interested in prehistoric archæology, too, should not miss seeing the very valuable collection in the Museum installed in the Château, probably the finest of its sort in the world, and rich in drawings and other remains of the cave-men of the Dordogne.
The third excursion, in every respect less pleasing and instructive, is that to Versailles. This must be taken rather as a duty than as a pleasure. Leave it for some enticing day in summer. Neither as regards art or nature can the great cumbrous palace and artificial domain of Louis XIV be compared in beauty to the other two. The building is a cold, formal, unimposing pile, filled with historic pictures of the dullest age, or modern works of often painful mediocrity, whose very mass and monotony makes most of them uninteresting. The grounds and trees have been drilled into ranks with military severity. The very fountains are aggressive. Nevertheless, a visit to the palace and gardens is absolutely necessary in order to enable the visitor to understand the France of the 17th and 18th centuries, with its formal art and its artificial nature. You will there begin more fully to understand the powdered world of the du Barrys and the Pompadours, the alleys and clipped trees of Le Nôtre’s gardens, the atmosphere that surrounds the affected pictures of Boucher, Vanloo, and Watteau. Take it in this spirit, and face it manfully. Here, again, the indications in Baedeker are amply sufficient by way of guidance.
When you have seen these three, you need not trouble yourself further with excursions from Paris, unless indeed you have ample time at your disposal and desire country jaunts for the sake of mere outing. But these three you omit at your historical peril.]
In conclusion, I would say in all humility, I am only too conscious that I have but scratched in this book the surface of Paris. Adequately to fill in the outline so sketched, for so great and beautiful a city, so rich in historical and artistic interest, would require a big book—and big books are not easy to carry about with one, sight-seeing. Moreover, I reflect by way of comfort, it is not good for us to be told everything; something must be left for the individual intelligence to have the pleasure of discovering. All I have endeavoured to do here is to suggest a method; if I have succeeded in making you take an interest in Mediæval and Renaissance Paris, if I have stimulated in you a desire to learn more about it, I have succeeded in my object. However imperfect this work may be—and nobody can be more conscious of its imperfections than its author—it will be justified if it arouses curiosity and intelligent inspection of works of art or antiquity, in place of mere listless and casual perambulation.
It is common in England to hear superior people sneer at Paris as modern and meretricious. I often wonder whether these people have ever really seen Paris at all—that beautiful, wonderful, deeply interesting Paris, some glimpse of which I have endeavoured to give in this little volume. To such I would say, when you are next at your favourite hotel in the Avenue de l’Opéra, take a few short walks to St. Germain-des-Prés, the Place des Vosges, St. Étienne-du-Mont, St. Eustache, and Cluny, and see whether you will not modify your opinion.
THE END.