Paris as It Was and as It Is / A Sketch Of The French Capital, Illustrative Of The Effects Of The Revolution

by Francis William Blagdon

CHAMP DE MARS.

This extensive inclosure was originally intended for the exercises of the École Militaire, in front of which it is situated, as you will perceive by referring to the Plan of Paris. Its form is a parallelogram of four hundred and fifty toises in length by one hundred and fifty in breadth. It is surrounded by ditches, faced with masonry, which are bordered on each side by a double row of trees, extending from the façade of the ci-devant École Militaire to the banks of the Seine. That building, I shall observe en passant, was founded in 1751, by Lewis XV, for the military education of five hundred young gentlemen, destitute of fortune, whose fathers had died in the service. It stands on the south side of the Champ de Mars, and serves at present as barracks for the horse-grenadiers of the consular guard. On the third story of one of the wings is a national observatory, which was constructed at the instigation of Lalande, the celebrated astronomer.

The various scenes of which the Champ de Mars has successively been the theatre, are too interesting to be passed over in silence. Indeed, they exhibit the character of the nation in such striking colours, that to omit them, would be like omitting some of the principal features in the drawing of a portrait. Often have they been mentioned, it is true; but subsequent events have so weakened the remembrance of them, that they now present themselves to the mind more like dreams than realities. However, I shall touch on the most remarkable only.

In 1790, a spacious arena, encompassed by a mound of earth, divided into seats so as to accommodate three hundred thousand spectators, was formed within this inclosure. To complete it speedily for the ceremony of the first federation, required immense labour. The slow progress of twenty-five thousand hired workmen could not keep pace with the ardent wishes of the friends of liberty. But those were the days of enthusiasm: concord and harmony then subsisted among the great majority of the French people. What other sentiments, in fact, could daily bring together, in the Champ de Mars, two hundred and fifty thousand persons of every class, without distinction of age or sex, to work at the necessary excavation? Thus, at the end of a week, the amphitheatre was completed as if by enchantment.

Never, perhaps, since the time of the Spartans, was seen among any people such an example of cordial union. It would be difficult for the warmest imagination to conceive a picture so varied, so original, so animated. Every corporation, every society was ambitious of the honour of assisting in the erection of the altar of the country: all wished to contribute, by individual labour, to the arrangement of the place where they were to swear to defend the constitution. Not a man, woman, or child remained an idle spectator. On this occasion, the aged seemed to have recovered the vigour of youth, and women and children to have acquired the strength of manhood. In a word, men of all trades and professions were confounded, and cheerfully handled the pickaxe and shovel: delicate females, sprucely dressed, were seen here and there wheeling along barrows filled with earth; while long strings of stout fellows dragged heavy loads in carts and waggons. As the electric matter runs along the several links of an extensive chain, so patriotism seemed to have electrified this whole mass of people. The shock was universal, and every heart vibrated in unison.

The general good order which prevailed among this vast assemblage, composed indiscriminately of persons of every rank and condition, was truly surprising. No sort of improper discourse, no dispute of any kind occurred. But what is still more singular and more worthy of remark is, that the mutual confidence shewn by so many people, strangers to each other, was in no one instance abused. Those who threw off their coats and waistcoats, leaving them to the fate of chance, during the time they were at work elsewhere, on their return to the same spot found them untouched. Hence, as Paris is known to abound with filoux, it may be inferred that the amor patriæ had deadened in them the impulse of their ordinary vocation.

Franklin, when promoting the emancipation of America, during his residence in Paris, probably did not foresee that the French would soon borrow his favourite expression, and that it would become the burden of a popular air. Yet so it happened; and even Lewis XVI himself participated in the patriotic labours of the Champ de Mars, while different bands of military music made the whole inclosure resound with ça ira.

To these exhilarating scenes succeeded others of the most opposite nature. Hither the guillotine was transported for the execution of the greatest astronomer of the age, and this with no other view than to prolong his punishment. Bailly, as every one knows, was the first mayor of Paris after the revolution. Launched into the vortex of politics, he became involved in the proscriptions which ensued during the reign of terror, and was dragged from prison to the Champ de Mars, where, though exposed to the most trying insults, he died, like a philosopher, with Socratic calmness.

In no one of the numerous victims of the revolution was the instability of popular favour more fully exemplified than in Bailly. In this Champ de Mars, where he had published martial law in consequence of a decree of the Convention, in the very place where he had been directed by the representatives of the people to repel the factions, he expired under the guillotine, loaded with the execration of that same people of whom he had been the most venerated idol.

Since those sanguinary times, the Champ de Mars has chiefly been the site chosen for the celebration of national fêtes, which, within these few years, have assumed a character more distinguished than any ever seen under the old régime. These modern Olympics consist of chariot-races and wrestling, horse and foot races, ascensions of balloons, carrying three or four persons, descents from them by means of a parachute, mock-fights and aquatic tilting. After the sports of the day, come splendid illuminations, grand fire-works, pantomimes represented by two or three hundred performers, and concerts, which, aided by splendid decorations, are not deficient in point of effect: the evening concludes with dancing.