“Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land?
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand?”
If such an one there be, he is a rare and monstrous exception. The feeling of common humanity is expressed with universal truth in the lines of sweet-singing Goldsmith in his classic poem, “The Traveller”:
“Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee:
Still to my country turns with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.”
[CHARTRES.]
It is the hour of pilgrimages. Probably never since the middle ages were they so numerous, or, with regard to the public ones, so carefully organized as at the present time; whether to the favored localities to which in these latter days heavenly manifestations have been accorded, or to the ancient sanctuaries whose history is coeval with that of the whole Christian era.
At this moment, when a vast concourse of pilgrims from various parts of France, and especially from its capital, are gone to pay their homage to our Lady of Chartres, and beg her intercession on behalf of their country, it may not be uninteresting to some among our readers if we endeavor briefly to trace the history of this celebrated shrine.
On entering the richly sculptured entrance—too large to be called a porch, and too truly Gothic to be called a portico—of the church of S. Germain l’Auxerrois in Paris, the visitor is struck with the beauty of the ancient frescos with which its interior is adorned; so effective in composition, so spiritual in expression, and in execution so delicate, simple, and refined. In one of these, which fills the tympanum of a closed arch forming part of the north side, is depicted the form of a venerable, white-bearded sage, who might without difficulty serve to represent a Druid (though in all probability it is the prophet Isaias), kneeling, with an expression of wonder and joy on his aged countenance, while an angel, opening a window, shows him a distant vision of the Virgin Mother and her divine Son.
The connection between the subject of this fresco and that of the present article will shortly be apparent. The ancient city, which was formerly the capital of the Carnutes, claims the honor of having been the first in the world to consecrate a temple to the Blessed Virgin.
Chartres, before the Christian era dawned upon the earth, foresaw from the midnight darkness the shining of the “Morning Star” which should precede its rising, and by anticipation did homage to the Virgin who was to bring forth—Virgini Parituræ.