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.