A broad road, or avenue, which in a short time will probably also be quite filled with houses, leads from this point to the celebrated Bois de Boulogne. The name of this wood was so frequently in every body’s mouth, that I naturally expected to see a forest of great sturdy trees, something in the style of the “Prater” at Vienna, or the “Thiergarten” at Berlin; but it was not so. In spite of its age, the Bois de Boulogne has never become a forest. The trees have remained small and spare, and it is a difficult matter to find a shady spot. The new and tasteful arrangement of this locality, and the addition of a beautiful fountain, are due to the present emperor, Napoleon III. He seems to be so fortunate in all his undertakings, that I should not wonder if he succeeded in making the trees grow.
The Tuileries Gardens are not very spacious, but they contain glorious specimens of venerable old trees. Here, as in all public places in Paris, chairs in abundance are to be had. You must pay for them; but the sum asked is very moderate—one sou per chair, whether you are a tenant for five minutes or for half a day.
Between the Champs Elysées and the Tuileries Gardens lies the Place de la Concorde, one of the finest squares in Europe. In old times it was called the Place Louis XV.; and here it was that the guillotine worked with horrible industry during the years 1792, 1793, and 1794, numbering Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, Philippe Egalité, Marie Helène of France, Robespierre, and hundreds besides, among its victims. Now this place is adorned by two beautiful fountains, and on the spot occupied by the guillotine rises the great obelisk of Luxor. This obelisk, seventy-two feet in height, and of five hundred thousand pounds weight, is hewn out of a single block of stone: 1550 years before the Christian era it was set up in front of a temple at Thebes, in Upper Egypt. Mehemet Ali presented it to the French government. Louis Philippe had a ship built at Toulon expressly for its conveyance to France, peculiarly fashioned, so as to ascend the Nile to Luxor, near Thebes. Eight hundred men were engaged for three months in removing the obelisk from the temple to the ship. In the month of December, 1833, it arrived in Paris, but its erection was not accomplished until October, 1836. The cost of transporting and setting it up amounted to two millions of francs.
Late building operations have completely united the palace of the Tuileries with the Louvre, so that the two now form a single structure—undoubtedly the grandest of its kind in Europe. A few years ago houses of irregular architecture separated these two palaces, and the quarter of Paris surrounding them is said to have been one of the most extensive and the dirtiest in the city. Louis Philippe intended to have these old buildings pulled down, and to build broad straight streets that should unite the Tuileries with the Louvre; but millions of money were required to realize the idea, and constitutional kings can not dispose of the funds of the state at their own sweet will. Napoleon arranged all that more conveniently; the Senate and the Corps Legislatif, far more accommodating than were their predecessors, the Chambers of Peers and of Deputies, are always happy to fulfill the wishes of their sovereign.
There is so much to be seen in both these palaces, in the way of pictures, antiquities, models of fortresses, ships, and other curiosities, that one might wander about for weeks in the labyrinth of halls and galleries, quite unconscious of the lapse of time. One of the apartments is dedicated entirely to relics of Napoleon the First. Here are to be seen his tent-bed, his writing-table, his arm-chair, his robes, various uniforms and hats, many golden keys of conquered cities and fortresses, Turkish and Arabian saddles, and many other properties. The worshipers of this modern Cæsar attach a great value to the handkerchief with which the death-damps were wiped from his brow at St. Helena. Not one of the other members of the Bonaparte family is represented by any article in the collection, except perhaps the Duke of Reichstadt, one of whose coats is displayed there.
The Luxembourg Gardens, on the south bank of the Seine, are very prettily laid out. The palace, built in a severe style, possesses a rich gallery of pictures, mostly modern pieces. The halls and chambers are arranged with great splendor and true artistic taste.
Of the churches I visited but few. Notre Dame is distinguished by its pure Gothic architecture. The church of St. Geneviève is one of the oldest in Paris. It contains the tomb of the patroness of Paris, in a neat chapel, built in the Byzantine style, behind the chief altar. In the church of St. Sulpice, the façade, with its double rows of pillars and a gallery, is remarkable. In the background of this church, in a kind of niche, is a marble statue representing the Virgin Mary standing with the infant Jesus on a globe. A cupola-shaped roof, with a beautiful fresco of the Ascension, rises over the statue, which, exquisitely chiseled, and with the light falling upon it with magic effect, has a most solemn and impressive appearance. Again, I could not help remarking the amount of poetry and effect developed in the Roman Catholic religion—and what an advantage does this effect give it among the excitable masses of the people, over the simple and rather monotonous forms of Protestant worship! It is unfortunate, however, that abuses, more or less objectionable, have every where crept in, and are very damaging, if not entirely destructive, to this poetic feeling. Take, for instance, the wretched custom adopted in French churches of paying for chairs. There are few or no benches, but great stores of chairs are heaped up against the walls. For each chair the charge is a sou; and at the end of the year all these sous no doubt make up a round sum, which is very welcome to the worthy dignitaries of the church; but the devotions of the congregation are terribly disturbed. Every moment the verger comes pushing his way through the people; first he brings a chair, then takes one away; now he asks for money, and then he chats with some regular customer. And is not the idea of being obliged to pay, in a temple of God, for the right of sitting down, enough in itself to drive away all serious and devout thoughts?
The Pantheon is built in the Grecian style; the interior forms a cross. This church contains monuments of many celebrated Frenchmen. I felt the greatest interest in those of J. J. Rousseau and Voltaire.
The Hôtel des Invalides is a magnificent institution for the reception of 5000 old soldiers who have been frequently wounded in battle, or have lost an arm or a leg. The building seems very conveniently arranged, and the old pensioners are said to be well treated; but no one has thought of providing a grass-plot for their delectation. Even the courts are destitute of trees and benches. The officers have had a small garden laid out at their own expense. The dome of the “Invalides” is of great size. The interior is ornamented with a great number of captured flags, and on the walls appear great tablets, graced with the names of celebrated generals. Behind the high altar is the chapel, where the remains of Napoleon, solemnly brought from St. Helena in 1840, are to rest until the mausoleum is finished. It was nearly completed at the time of my visit. It consists of a beautiful rotunda, surrounded by twelve pillars, with twelve colossal statues of marble in the intervening spaces. The floor is likewise of marble, with a laurel wreath in mosaic surrounding the sarcophagus, which is cut out of a single block of porphyry. The entrance porch, from which two flights of steps lead downward into the rotunda, is supported by two gigantic statues. The gate and the statues, which are of bronze, are beautifully executed. The part of the church that rises over the mausoleum is nearly covered with gilding, and when the full light of day shines upon it the effect is magical.
With the celebrated cemetery of Père la Chaise I was greatly disappointed; but seeing the cemetery at New York had perhaps spoiled me for admiring any other. The graves are certainly adorned with tombs, flowers, and shrubs, but every thing is so crowded together that there is scarcely room to walk. The number of monuments distinguished by grace and richness of adornment is small, and their effect is lost by their position. The most interesting among these is that of Abélard and Heloise, who died in the twelfth century, and whose ashes were removed to this resting-place in the nineteenth.