Feltzer divined the meaning of this revolt at once. He knew that this was a challenge to mortal combat, and that the prize of the victor was the crown. Meyer was a splendid young man, built like a bull, and only thirty. Feltzer had been, in his day, more than a match for him; but alas, he was sixty, and had been enervated by the soft allurements of official position. However, he determined not to die without a struggle, and so laying off their coats, at it they went. Meyer had no easy contract. Feltzer was fighting for life, and the contest was long and severe. Youth finally triumphed, and Feltzer, after half an hour of rolling in the mud, admitted defeat. Meyer sprang gaily to his feet, and seizing Feltzer’s hickory club exclaimed to the bystanders, “Now, yoo men vat vants to vote will shust show me your dickets!”
They accepted their new ruler the same as the French do, and he was elected to an office the ensuing Fall, and ever since, for aught I know. He held it, anyhow, till some younger man deposed him.
This has nothing to do with the Louvre, except as showing that humanity is the same everywhere. If any other moral can be got out of it I have no objection.
All over the Louvre are statues of men who are famous in French history—those who have achieved fame in art, science, literature or war. They are here, and in stone that will last for ages; longer, probably, than the memory of the acts that placed them there.
On the north side of the Place Napoleon there is a wonderful Corinthian colonnade, over the columns of which are heroic statues of eighty-six celebrated men, and on the balustrade are sixty-five allegorical groups, wonderful in design and execution, and so, all the way around the enormous building, story after story is burdened with works of art. Wondrous works, artistically bestowed, always profuse, but never overdone. Every column, every window-cap, even the ledges just under the projection of the roof, bear the impress of genius. There are statues, medallions, large groups illustrating important events in the history of France, exquisitely carved by master hands, on all four sides of the exterior, all symmetrical in design and faultless in proportion.
The interior is in keeping with the exterior. The noble pile is a fit repository for what it contains. The one hundred and forty salons into which the Louvre is divided are marvels of artistic beauty. Intended for the abode of royalty, it was royally constructed. The kingly builders did not spare the sweat or blood of their subjects. They set out to have a royal palais, and they did not allow the miseries of a few millions of their people to stand in the way of its achievement.
The most beautiful of them all is the Galerie d’Apollon, the ornamentation of which, in beauty of design and skill in execution, is marvelous. It is of itself a study. The vaulted ceiling is filled with paintings by Le Brun, one of the greatest of the French masters. The cornices and corners are ornamented with beautiful designs in gilt, elaborately wrought, and on the walls are portraits of French artists in gobelin tapestry, making it one of the finest collections of this kind of work extant. There is a perfection in the drawing that is remarkable, and the coloring is exquisite, the various shades and tints blending with a nicety that makes one almost feel that they were done by artists with brush and paint.
Tapestry, as a rule, has small degree of expression in face and feature, but in these every feature is faithfully reproduced, and the whole figure is strikingly life-like.
This room has a history. It was originally built by Henry IV., and was burned in 1661. During the reign of Louis XIV. the work of reconstruction was begun, Le Brun furnishing the designs. His death in 1690 put a stop to the work, and for a century and a half it stood in an unfinished condition. In 1848 work was resumed, and in three years it was finished as it now stands.
There are scores of other rooms of quite as much interest. In all, the frescoes and wall paintings are incomparable, and though the galleries aggregate over a mile and a half in length, in no place is there a barren spot. The great masters, through all these ages, gave to it their best years and their best work, and so long as the Louvre remains these rooms will be monuments of their genius.