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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Wanderer in Paris, by E. V. Lucas,
+Illustrated by Walter Dexter
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Wanderer in Paris
+
+
+Author: E. V. Lucas
+
+
+
+Release Date: November 6, 2011  [eBook #37937]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WANDERER IN PARIS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Melissa McDaniel, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 37937-h.htm or 37937-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37937/37937-h/37937-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37937/37937-h.zip)
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document
+      have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been
+      corrected.
+
+      Text printed in italics in the original document is enclosed
+      here between underscores, as in _italics_.
+
+
+
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS
+
+     Mr. Ingleside
+     Over Bemerton's
+     Listener's Lure
+     London Lavender
+     One Day and Another
+     Fireside and Sunshine
+     Character and Comedy
+     Old Lamps for New
+     The Hambledon Men
+     The Open Road
+     The Friendly Town
+     Her Infinite Variety
+     Good Company
+     The Gentlest Art
+     The Second Post
+     A Little of Everything
+     A Swan and Her Friends
+     A Wanderer in Florence
+     A Wanderer in London
+     A Wanderer in Holland
+     The British School
+     Highways and Byways in Sussex
+     Anne's Terrible Good Nature
+     The Slowcoach
+     Sir Pulteney
+     The Life of Charles Lamb
+       and
+     The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles
+       Lamb: I. Miscellaneous Prose; II. Elia;
+       III. Children's Books; IV. Poems and
+       Plays; V. and VI. Letters
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+  [Illustration: HÔTEL DE SENS
+   THE RUE DE L'HÔTEL DE VILLE]
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+by
+
+E. V. LUCAS
+
+With Sixteen Illustrations in Colour by Walter Dexter
+and Thirty-Two Reproductions from Works of Art
+
+
+"I'll go and chat with Paris"
+_--Romeo and Juliet_
+
+TENTH EDITION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Methuen & Co. Ltd.
+36 Essex Street W.C.
+London
+
+_First Published (Crown 8vo)_               _August 5th 1909_
+_Second Edition (  "  )_                    _September 1909_
+_Third Edition (  "  )_                     _October 1909_
+_Fourth Edition (  "  )_                    _January 1910_
+_Fifth Edition  (  "  )_                    _June 1910_
+_Sixth Edition  (  "  )_                    _December 1910_
+_Seventh Edition, revised (Fcap. 8vo)_      _September 1911_
+_Eighth Edition (Crown 8vo)_                _October 1911_
+_Ninth Edition (  "  )_                     _March 1912_
+_Tenth Edition (  "  )_                     _February 1913_
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Although the reader will quickly make the discovery for himself, I
+should like here to emphasise the fact that this is a book about Paris
+and the Parisians written wholly from the outside, and containing only
+so much of that city and its citizens as a foreigner who has no French
+friends may observe on holiday visits.
+
+I express elsewhere my indebtedness to a few French authors. I have
+also been greatly assisted in a variety of ways, but especially in the
+study of the older Paris streets, by my friend Mr. Frank Holford.
+
+     E. V. L.
+
+
+NOTE
+
+     Since this new edition was prepared for the press the
+     devastating theft of Leonardo da Vinci's "Monna Lisa" was
+     perpetrated. Pages 81-87 therefore--describing that picture
+     as one of the chief treasures of the Louvre--must change
+     their tense to the past.
+
+     E. V. L.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                             PAGE
+       CHAPTER I
+     THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS                                 1
+
+       CHAPTER II
+     THE ILE DE LA CITÉ                                         9
+
+       CHAPTER III
+     NOTRE DAME                                                31
+
+       CHAPTER IV
+     SAINT LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND                                54
+
+       CHAPTER V
+     THE MARAIS                                                61
+
+       CHAPTER VI
+     THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS                            78
+
+       CHAPTER VII
+     THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES AND OTHER
+       TREASURES                                               97
+
+       CHAPTER VIII
+     THE TUILERIES                                            114
+
+       CHAPTER IX
+     THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, THE CHAMPS
+       ELYSÉES AND THE INVALIDES                              132
+
+       CHAPTER X
+     THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS
+       TRIBUTARIES                                            158
+
+       CHAPTER XI
+     THE LATIN QUARTER                                        170
+
+       CHAPTER XII
+     THE PANTHÉON AND SAINTE GENEVIÈVE                        188
+
+       CHAPTER XIII
+     TWO ZOOS                                                 199
+
+       CHAPTER XIV
+     THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE
+       MADELEINE TO THE OPERA                                 214
+
+       CHAPTER XV
+     A CHAIR AT THE CAFÉ DE LA PAIX                           227
+
+       CHAPTER XVI
+     THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE
+       PLACE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE                                 244
+
+       CHAPTER XVII
+     MONTMARTRE                                               260
+
+       CHAPTER XVIII
+     THE ELYSÉE TO THE HÔTEL DE VILLE                         276
+
+       CHAPTER XIX
+     THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE                    299
+
+       CHAPTER XX
+     THE BASTILLE, PÈRE LACHAISE AND THE END                  306
+
+     INDEX                                                    321
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+IN COLOUR
+
+
+     THE RUE DE L'HÔTEL DE VILLE                   _Frontispiece_
+
+     THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR            _To face page_ 6
+
+     THE ILE DE LA CITÉ FROM THE PONT DES ARTS          "      40
+
+     NOTRE DAME                                         "      58
+
+     THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L'ETOILE                    "      74
+
+     THE PARC MONCEAU                                   "     116
+
+     THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL                   "     124
+
+     THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE                           "     140
+
+     THE PONT ALEXANDRE III.                            "     160
+
+     THE FONTAINE DE MÉDICIS                            "     180
+
+     THE MUSÉE CLUNY                                    "     200
+
+     THE RUE DE BIÈVRE                                  "     222
+
+     THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS                         "     240
+
+     THE PORTE ST. DENIS                                "     258
+
+     THE SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTRE FROM THE
+     BUTTES-CHAUMONT                                    "     280
+
+     THE PLACE DES VOSGES, SOUTHERN ENTRANCE            "     300
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE
+
+
+     MAP. From a Drawing by B. C. Boulter           _front Cover_
+
+     THE NATIVITY. Luini (louvre)               _to face page_ 16
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     GIOVANNA  TORNABUONI  AND  THE  CARDINAL
+     VIRTUES--Fresco from the Villa Lemmi.
+     Botticelli (Louvre)                               "       20
+
+     LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS. Leonardo da Vinci
+     (Louvre)                                          "       26
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JÉSUS.
+     Leonardo da Vinci. (Louvre)                       "       36
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA PENSÉE. Rodin (Luxembourg)                     "       46
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE. Raphael (Louvre)           "       52
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     L'HOMME AU GANT. Titian (Louvre)                  "       64
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME. Attributed to Bigio
+     (Louvre)                                          "       70
+     From a Photograph by Alinari
+
+     THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE. (Louvre)        "       80
+     From a Photograph by Giraudon
+
+     LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA. Leonardo da Vinci
+     (Louvre)                                          "       86
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT D'UNE DAME ET SA FILLE. Van Dyck
+     (Louvre)                                          "       94
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     LE VALLON.  Corot (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection)                                       "      106
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LE PRINTEMPS. Rousseau (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection)                                       "      120
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT. Ghirlandaio (Louvre)       "      136
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     VÉNUS ET L'AMOUR. Rembrandt (Louvre)              "      146
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LES PÈLERINS D'EMMAÜS. Rembrandt (Louvre)         "      154
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR. J. van Eyck (Louvre)       "      166
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT DE SA MÈRE. Whistler (Luxembourg)        "      176
+
+     LA BOHÉMIENNE. Franz Hals (Louvre)                "      186
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     STE. GENEVIÈVE. Puvis de Chavannes (Panthéon)     "      190
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA LEÇON DE LECTURE. Terburg (Louvre)             "      206
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA DENTELLIÈRE. Vermeer of Delft (Louvre)         "      216
+     From a Photograph by Woodbury
+
+     GIRL'S HEAD. Ecole de Fabriano (Louvre)           "      228
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     LE BÉNÉDICITÉ. Chardin (Louvre)                   "      234
+     From a Photograph by Giraudon
+
+     MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE. Madame Le Brun
+     (Louvre)                                          "      246
+     From a Photograph by Hanfstaengl
+
+     LE PONT DE MANTES. Corot
+     (Louvre, Moreau Collection)                       "      252
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA PROVENDE DES POULES.  Troyon (Louvre,
+     Thomy-Thierret Collection)                        "      266
+     From a Photograph by Alinari
+
+     THE WINDMILL. R. P. Bonington (Louvre)            "      274
+
+     L'AMATEUR D'ESTAMPES.  Daumier (Palais des
+     Beaux Arts)                                       "      286
+
+     LE BAISER. Rodin (Luxembourg)                     "      294
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA BERGÈRE GARDANT SES MOUTONS. Millet
+     (Louvre, Chauchard Collection)                    "      308
+
+     LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS. A. Bartholomé (Père
+     la Chaise)                                        "      316
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS
+
+     The Gare du Nord and Gare St. Lazare--The Singing
+     Cabman--"Vivent les femmes!"--Characteristic Paris--The Next
+     Morning--A Choice of Delights--The Compas d'Or--The World of
+     Dumas--The First Lunch--Voisin wins.
+
+
+Most travellers from London enter Paris in the evening, and I think
+they are wise. I wish it were possible again and again to enter Paris
+in the evening for the first time; but since it is not, let me hasten
+to say that the pleasure of re-entering Paris in the evening is one
+that custom has almost no power to stale. Every time that one emerges
+from the Gare du Nord or the Gare St. Lazare one is taken afresh by
+the variegated and vivid activity of it all--the myriad purposeful
+self-contained bustling people, all moving on their unknown errands
+exactly as they were moving when one was here last, no matter how long
+ago. For Paris never changes: that is one of her most precious
+secrets.
+
+The London which one had left seven or eight hours before was populous
+enough and busy enough, Heaven knows, but London's pulse is slow and
+fairly regular, and even at her gayest, even when greeting Royalty,
+she seems to be advising caution and a careful demeanour. But
+Paris--Paris smiles and Paris sings. There is an incredible vivacity
+in her atmosphere.
+
+Sings! This reminds me that on the first occasion that I entered
+Paris--in the evening, of course--my cabman sang. He sang all the way
+from the Gare du Nord to the Rue Caumartin. This seemed to me
+delightful and odd, although at first I felt in danger of attracting
+more attention than one likes; but as we proceeded down the Rue
+Lafayette--which nothing but song and the fact that it is the high
+road into Paris from England can render tolerable--I discovered that
+no one minded us. A singing cabman in London would bring out the Riot
+Act and the military; but here he was in the picture: no one threw at
+the jolly fellow any of the chilling deprecatory glances which are the
+birthright of every light-hearted eccentric in my own land. And so we
+proceeded to the hotel, often escaping collision by the breadth of a
+single hair, the driver singing all the way. What he sang I knew not;
+but I doubt if it was of battles long ago: rather, I should fancy, of
+very present love and mischief. But how fitting a first entry into
+Paris!
+
+An hour or so later--it was just twenty years ago, but I remember it
+so clearly--I observed written up in chalk in large emotional letters
+on a public wall the words "Vivent les femmes!" and they seemed to me
+also so odd--it seemed to me so funny that the sentiment should be
+recorded at all, since women were obviously going to live whatever
+happened--that I laughed aloud. But it was not less characteristic of
+Paris than the joyous baritone notes that had proceeded from beneath
+the white tall hat of my cocher. It was as natural for one Parisian to
+desire the continuance of his joy as a lover, even to expressing it in
+chalk in the street, as to another to beguile with lyrical snatches
+the tedium of cab-driving.
+
+I was among the Latin people, and, as I quickly began to discover, I
+was myself, for the first time, a foreigner. That is a discovery which
+one quickly makes in Paris.
+
+But I have not done yet with the joy of entering and re-entering Paris
+in the evening--after the long smooth journey across the marshes of
+Picardy or through the orchards of Normandy and the valley of the
+Seine--whichever way one travels. But whether one travels by Calais,
+Boulogne, Dieppe or Havre, whether one alights at the Gare du Nord or
+St. Lazare, once outside the station one is in Paris instantly: there
+is no debatable land between either of these termini and the city, as
+there is, for example, between the Gare de Lyons and the city. Paris
+washes up to the very platforms. A few steps and here are the foreign
+tables on the pavements and the foreign waiters, so brisk and clean,
+flitting among them; here are the vehicles meeting and passing on the
+wrong or foreign side, and beyond that, knowing apparently no law at
+all; here are the deep-voiced newsvendors shouting those magic words
+_La Patrie!_ _La Patrie!_ which, should a musician ever write a Paris
+symphony, would recur and recur continually beneath its surface
+harmonies. And here, everywhere, are the foreign people in their
+ordered haste and their countless numbers.
+
+The pleasure of entering and re-entering Paris in the evening is only
+equalled by the pleasure of stepping forth into the street the next
+morning in the sparkling Parisian air and smelling again the pungent
+Parisian scent and gathering in the foreign look of the place. I know
+of no such exuberance as one draws in with these first Parisian
+inhalations on a fine morning in May or June--and in Paris in May and
+June it is always fine, just as in Paris in January and February it is
+always cold or wet. His would be a very sluggish or disenchanted
+spirit who was not thus exhilarated; for here at his feet is the
+holiday city of Europe and the clean sun over all.
+
+And then comes the question "What to do?" Shall we go at once to
+"Monna Lisa"? But could there be a better morning for the children in
+the Champs-Elysées? That beautiful head in the His de la Salle
+collection--attributed to the school of Fabriano! How delightfully the
+sun must be lighting up the red walls of the Place des Vosges! Rodin's
+"Kiss" at the Luxembourg--we meant to go straight to that! The wheel
+window in Notre Dame, in the north transept--I have been thinking of
+that ever since we planned to come.
+
+So may others talk and act; but I have no hesitancies. My duty is
+clear as crystal. On the first morning I pay a visit of reverence and
+delight to the ancient auberge of the Compas d'Or at No. 64 Rue
+Montorgeuil. And this I shall always do until it is razed to the
+earth, as it seems likely to be under the gigantic scheme, beyond
+Haussmann almost, which is to renovate the most picturesque if the
+least sanitary portions of old Paris at a cost of over thirty millions
+of pounds. Unhappy day--may it be long postponed! For some years now I
+have always approached the Compas d'Or with trembling and foreboding.
+Can it still be there? I ask myself. Can that wonderful wooden hanger
+that covers half the courtyard have held so long? Will there be a
+motor-car among the old diligences and waggons? But it is always the
+same.
+
+From the street--and the Rue Montorgeuil is as a whole one of the most
+picturesque and characteristic of the older streets of Paris, with its
+high white houses, each containing fifty families, its narrowness, its
+barrows of fruit and green stuff by both pavements, and its crowds of
+people--from the street, the Compas d'Or is hardly noticeable, for a
+butcher and a cutler occupy most of its façade; but the sign and the
+old carvings over these shops give away the secret, and you pass
+through one of the narrow archways on either side and are straightway
+in a romance by the great Dumas. Into just such a courtyard would
+D'Artagnan have dashed, and leaping from one sweating steed leap on
+another and be off again amid a shower of sparks on the stones. Time
+has stood still here.
+
+There is no other such old inn left. The coach to Dreux--now probably
+a carrier's cart--still regularly runs from this spot, as it has done
+ever since the beginning of the sixteenth century. Rows of horses
+stand in its massive stables and fill the air with their warm and
+friendly scent; a score of ancient carts huddle in the yard, in a
+corner of which there will probably be a little group of women
+shelling peas; beneath the enormous hanger are more vehicles, and
+masses of hay on which the carters sleep. The ordinary noise of Paris
+gives way, in this sanctuary of antiquity, to the scraping of hoofs,
+the rattle of halter bolts, and the clatter of the wooden shoes of
+ostlers. It is the past in actual being--Civilisation, like Time, has
+stood still in the yard of the Compas d'Or. That is why I hasten to it
+so eagerly and shall always do so until it disappears for ever. There
+is nothing else in Paris like it.
+
+And after? Well, the next thing is to have lunch. And since this
+lunch--being the first--will be the best lunch of the holiday and
+therefore the best meal of the holiday (for every meal on a holiday in
+Paris is a little better than that which follows it), it is an
+enterprise not lightly to be undertaken. One must decide carefully,
+for this is to be an extravagance: the search for the little
+out-of-the-way restaurant will come later. To-day we are rich.
+
+  [Illustration: THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR, RUE MONTORGEUIL]
+
+This book is not a guide for the gastronome and gourmet. How indeed
+could it be, even although when heaven sends a cheerful hour one would
+scorn to refrain? Yet none the less it would be pleasant in this
+commentary upon a city illustrious for its culinary ingenuity and
+genius to say something of restaurants. But what is one to say here on
+such a theme? Volumes are needed. Every one has his own taste. For me
+Voisin's remains, and will, I imagine, remain the most distinguished,
+the most serene, restaurant in Paris, in its retired situation at the
+corner of the Rue Saint-Honoré and the Rue Cambon, with its simple
+decoration, its unhastening order and despatch, its Napoleonic
+head-waiter, its Bacchic wine-waiter (with a head that calls for vine
+leaves) and its fastidious cuisine. To Voisin's I should always make
+my way when I wished not only to be delicately nourished but to be
+quiet and philosophic and retired. Only one other restaurant do I know
+where the cooking gives me the satisfaction of Voisin's--where
+excessive richness never intrudes--and that is a discovery of my own
+and not lightly to be given away. Voisin's is a name known all over
+the world: one can say nothing new about Voisin's; but the little
+restaurant with which I propose to tantalise you, although the resort
+of some of the most thoughtful eaters in Paris, has a reputation that
+has not spread. It is not cheap, it is little less dear indeed than
+the Café Anglais or Paillard's, to name the two restaurants of renown
+which are nearest to it; its cellar is poor and limited to half a
+dozen wines; its two rooms are minute and hot; but the idea of
+gastronomy reigns--everything is subordinated to the food and the
+cooking. If you order a trout, it is the best trout that France can
+breed, and it is swimming in the kitchen at the time the solitary
+waiter repeats your command; no such asparagus reaches any other Paris
+restaurant, no such Pré Salé and no such wild strawberries. But I have
+said enough; almost I fear I have said too much. These discoveries
+must be kept sacred.
+
+And for lunch to-day? Shall it be chez Voisin, or chez Foyot, by the
+Sénat, or chez Lapérouse (where the two Stevensons used to eat and
+talk) on the Quai des Augustins? Or shall it be at my nameless
+restaurant?
+
+Voisin's to-day, I think.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE ILE DE LA CITÉ
+
+     Paris Old and New--The Heart of France--Saint Louis--Old
+     Palaces--Henri IV.'s Statue--Ironical Changes--The Seine and
+     the Thames--The Quais and their Old Books--Diderot and the
+     Lady--Police and Red Tape--The Conciergerie--Marie
+     Antoinette--Paris and its Clocks--Méryon's Etchings--French
+     Advocates--A Hall of Babel--Sainte Chapelle--French
+     Newspapers Serious and Comic--The Only Joke--The English and
+     the French.
+
+
+Where to begin? That is a problem in the writing of every book, but
+peculiarly so with Paris; because, however one may try to be
+chronological, the city is such a blend of old and new that that
+design is frustrated at every turn. Nearly every building of
+importance stands on the site of some other which instantly jerks us
+back hundreds of years, while if we deal first with the original
+structure, such as the remains of the Roman Thermes at the Cluny,
+built about 300, straightway the Cluny itself intrudes, and we leap
+from the third century to the nineteenth; or if we trace the line of
+the wall of Philip Augustus we come swiftly to so modern an
+institution as the Mont-de-Piété; or if we climb to such a recent
+thoroughfare as the Boulevard de Clichy, with its palpitatingly novel
+cabarets and allurements, we must in order to do so ascend a mountain
+which takes its name from the martyrdom of St. Denis and his
+companions in the third century. It is therefore well, since Paris is
+such a tangle of past and present, to disregard order altogether and
+to let these pages reflect her character. Expect then, dear reader, to
+be twitched about the ages without mercy.
+
+Let us begin in earnest by leaving the mainland and adventuring upon
+an island. For the heart of Paris is enisled: Notre Dame, Sainte
+Chapelle, the Palais de Justice, the Hôtel Dieu, the Préfecture de
+Police, the Morgue--all are entirely surrounded by water. The history
+of the Cité is the history of Paris, almost the history of France.
+
+Paris, the home of the Parisii, consisted of nothing but this island
+when Julius Cæsar arrived there with his conquering host. The Romans
+built their palace here, and here Julian the Apostate loved to
+sojourn. It was in Julian's reign that the name was changed from
+Lutetia (which it is still called by picturesque writers) to Parisea
+Civitas, from which Paris is an easy derivative. The Cité remained the
+home of government when the Merovingians under Clovis expelled the
+Romans, and again under the Carlovingians. The second Royal Palace was
+begun by the first of the Capets, Hugh, in the tenth century, and it
+was completed by Robert the Pious in the eleventh. Louis VII. decreed
+Notre Dame; but it was Saint Louis, reigning from 1226 to 1270, who
+was the father of the Cité as we now know it. He it was who built
+Sainte Chapelle, and it was he who surrendered part of the Palace to
+the Law.
+
+While it was the home of the Court and the Church the island naturally
+had little enough room for ordinary residents, who therefore had to
+live, whether aristocrats or tradespeople, on the mainland, either on
+the north or south side of the river. The north side was for the most
+part given to merchants, the south to scholars, for Saint Louis was
+the builder not only of Sainte Chapelle but also of the Sorbonne. Very
+few of the smaller buildings of that time now remain: the oldest Paris
+that one now wanders in so delightedly, whether on the north bank or
+the south, whether near the Sorbonne or the Hôtel de Sens, dates, with
+a few fortunate exceptions, from the fifteenth and sixteenth
+centuries.
+
+Nowhere may the growth of Paris be better observed and better
+understood than on the highest point on this Island of the City--on
+the summit of Notre Dame. Standing there you quickly comprehend the
+Paris of the ages: from Cæsar's Lutetia, occupying the island only and
+surrounded by fields and wastes, to the Paris of this year of our
+Lord, spreading over the neighbouring hills, such a hive of human
+activity and energy as will hardly bear thinking of--a Paris which has
+thrown off the yoke not only of the kings that once were all-powerful
+but of the Church too.
+
+By the twelfth century the kings of France had begun to live in
+smaller palaces more to their personal taste, such as the Hôtel
+Barbette, the Hôtel de Sens (much of which still stands, as a glass
+factory, at the corner of the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville and the Rue de
+Figuier, one of the oldest of the Paris mansions), the Hôtel de
+Bourgogne (in the Rue Etienne Marcel: you may still see its tower of
+Jean Sans Peur), the Hôtel de Nevers (what remains of which is at the
+corner of the Rue Colbert and Rue Richelieu), and, of course, the
+Louvre. Charles VII. (1422-1461) was the first king to settle at the
+Louvre permanently.
+
+To gain the Ile de la Cité we leave the mainland of Paris at the Quai
+du Louvre, and make our crossing by the Pont Neuf. Neuf no longer, for
+as a matter of historical fact it is now the oldest of all the Paris
+bridges: that is, in its foundations, for the visible part of it has
+been renovated quite recently. The first stone of it was laid by Henri
+III. in 1578: it was not ready for many years, but in 1603 Henri IV.
+(of Navarre) ventured across a plank of it on his way to the Louvre,
+after several previous adventurers had broken their necks in the
+attempt. "So much the less kings they," was his comment. He lived to
+see the bridge finished.
+
+Behind the statue of this monarch, whom the French still adore, is the
+garden that finishes off the west end of the Ile very prettily,
+sending its branches up above the parapet. Here we may stop; for we
+are now on the Island itself, midway between the two halves of the
+bridge, and the statue has such a curious history, so typical of the
+French character, that I should like to tell it. The original bronze
+figure, erected by Louis XIII. in 1614, was taken down in 1792, a
+time of stress, and melted into a commodity that was then of vastly
+greater importance than the effigies of kings--namely cannon. (As we
+shall see in the course of this book, Paris left the hands of the
+Revolutionaries a totally different city from the Paris of 1791.) Then
+came peace again, and then came Napoleon, and in the collection at
+the Archives is to be seen a letter written by the Emperor from
+Schönbrunn, on August 15th, 1809, stating that he wishes an obelisk
+to be erected on the site of the Henri IV. statue--an obelisk of
+Cherbourg granite, 180 pieds d'élévation, with the inscription
+"l'Empereur Napoléon au Peuple Français". That, however, was not done.
+
+Time passed on, Napoleon fell, and Louis XVIII. returned from his
+English home to the throne of France, and was not long in perpetrating
+one of those symmetrical ironical jests which were then in vogue.
+Taking from the Vendôme column the bronze statue of Napoleon (who was
+safely under the thumb of Sir Hudson Lowe at St. Helena, well out of
+mischief), and to this adding a second bronze statue of the same
+usurper intended for some other site, the monarch directed that they
+should be melted into liquid from which a new statue of Henri IV.--the
+very one at which we are at this moment gazing--should be cast. It was
+done, and though to the Röntgen-rayed vision of the cynic it may
+appear to be nothing more or less than a double Napoleon, it is to
+the world at large Henri IV., the hero of Ivry.
+
+I have seen comparisons between the Seine and the Thames; but they are
+pointless. You cannot compare them: one is a London river, and the
+other is a Paris river. The Seine is a river of light; the Thames is a
+river of twilight. The Seine is gay; the Thames is sombre. When dusk
+falls in Paris the Seine is just a river in the evening; when dusk
+falls in London the Thames becomes a wonderful mystery, an enchanted
+stream in a land of old romance. The Thames is, I think, vastly more
+beautiful; but on the other hand, the Thames has no merry passenger
+steamers and no storied quais. The Seine has all the advantage when we
+come to the consideration of what can be done with a river's banks in
+a great city. For the Seine has a mile of old book and curiosity
+stalls, whereas the Thames has nothing.
+
+And yet the coping of the Thames embankment is as suitable for such a
+purpose as that of the Seine, and as many Londoners are fond of books.
+How is it? Why should all the bookstalls and curiosity stalls of
+London be in Whitechapel and Farringdon Street and the Cattle Market?
+That is a mystery which I have never solved and never shall. Why are
+the West Central and the West districts wholly debarred--save in
+Charing Cross Road, and that I believe is suspect--from loitering at
+such alluring street banquets? It is beyond understanding.
+
+The history of the stall-holders of the quais has been told very
+engagingly by M. Octave Uzanne, whom one might describe as the Austin
+Dobson and the Augustine Birrell of France, in his work _Bouquinistes
+et Bouquineurs_. They established themselves first on the Pont Neuf,
+but in 1650 were evicted. (The Paris bridges, I might say here, become
+at the present time the resort of every kind of pedlar directly
+anything occurs to suspend their traffic.)
+
+The parapets of the quais then took the place of those of the bridge,
+and there the booksellers' cases have been ever since. But no longer
+are they the gay resort that once they were. It was considered, says
+M. Uzanne, writing of the eighteenth century, "quite the correct thing
+for the promenaders to gossip round the bookstalls and discuss the wit
+and fashionable writings of the day. At all hours of the day these
+quarters were much frequented, above all by literary men, lawyers
+clerks and foreigners. One historical fact, not generally known,
+merits our attention, for it shows that not only the libraries and the
+stall-keepers assisted in drawing men of letters to the vicinity of
+the Hôtel Mazarin, but there also existed a 'rendez-vous' for the sale
+of English and French journals. It was, in fact, at the corner of the
+Rue Dauphine and the Quai Conti that the first establishment known as
+the Café Anglais was started. One read in big letters on the
+signboard: Café Anglais--Becket, propriétaire. This was the meeting
+place of the greater part of English writers visiting Paris who
+wished to become acquainted with the literary men of the period, the
+encyclopædists and poets of the Court of Louis XV. This Café offered
+to its habitués the best-known English papers of the day, the
+_Westminster Gazette_, the _London Evening Post_, the _Daily
+Advertiser_, and the various pamphlets published on the other side of
+the Channel....
+
+"You must know that the Quai Conti up to the year 1769 was only a
+narrow passage leading down to a place for watering horses. Between
+the Pont Neuf and the building known as the Château-Gaillard at the
+opening of the Rue Guénégaud, were several small shops, and a small
+fair continually going on.
+
+"This Château-Gaillard, which was a dependency of the old Porte de
+Nesle, had been granted by Francis I. to Benvenuto Cellini. The famous
+Florentine goldsmith received visits from the Sovereign protector of
+arts and here executed the work he had been ordered to do, under his
+Majesty's very eyes....
+
+"One calls to mind that Sterne, in his delightful _Sentimental
+Journey_, was set down in 1767 at the Hôtel de Modène, in the Rue
+Jacob, opposite the Rue des Deux-Anges, and one has not forgotten his
+love for the quais and the adventure which befell him while chatting
+to a bookseller on the Quai Conti, of whom he wished to buy a copy of
+Shakespeare so that he might read once more Polonius' advice to his
+son before starting on his travels.
+
+"Diderot, in his _Salon_ of 1761, relates his flirtation with the
+pretty girl who served in one of these shops and afterwards became
+the wife of Menze. 'She called herself Miss Babuti and kept a small
+book shop on the Quai des Augustins, spruce and upright, white as a
+lily and red as a rose. I would enter her shop, in my own brisk way:
+"Mademoiselle, the 'Contes de la Fontaine' ... a 'Petronius' if you
+please."--"Here you are, Sir. Do you want any other books?"--"Forgive
+me, yes"--"What is it?"--"La 'Religieuse en Chemise.'"--"For shame,
+Sir! Do you read such trash?"--"Trash, is it, Mademoiselle? I did not
+know...."'"
+
+  [Illustration: THE NATIVITY
+    LUINI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+M. Uzanne's pages are filled with such charming gossip and with
+character-sketches of the most famous booksellers and book-hunters.
+One pretty trait that would have pleased Mary Lamb (and perhaps did,
+in 1822, when her brother took her to the "Boro' side of the Seine")
+is mentioned by M. Uzanne: "The stall-keeper on the quais always has
+an indulgent eye for the errand boy or the little bonne [slavey] who
+stops in front of his stall and consults gratis 'La Clef des Songes'
+or 'Le Secrétaire des Dames'. Who would not commend him for this kind
+toleration? In fact it is very rare to find the bookseller in such
+cases not shutting his eyes--metaphorically--and refraining from
+walking up to the reader, for fear of frightening her away. And then
+the young girl moves off with a light step, repeating to herself the
+style of letter or the explanation of a dream, rich in hope and
+illusions for the rest of the day."
+
+But the best description of the book-hunter of the quais is that
+given to Dumas by Charles Nodier. "This animal," he said, "has two
+legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and down the quais and the
+boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, turning over every
+book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that is too long for him
+and trousers that are too short; he always wears on his feet shoes
+that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, under his
+coat and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together with string.
+One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he never washes
+his hands."
+
+Henri IV.'s statue faces the Place Dauphine and the west façade of the
+Palais de Justice. At No. 28 in the Place Dauphine Madame Roland was
+born, little thinking she was destined one day to be imprisoned in the
+neighbouring Conciergerie, which, to those who can face the
+difficulties of obtaining a ticket of admission, is one of the most
+interesting of the Island's many interesting buildings. But the
+process is not easy, and there is only one day in the week on which
+the prison is shown.
+
+The tickets are issued at the Préfecture of Police--the Scotland Yard
+of Paris--which is the large building opposite Sainte Chapelle. One
+may either write or call. I advise writing; for calling is not as
+simple as it sounds: simplicity and sightseeing in Paris being indeed
+not on the best terms. It was not until I had asked five several
+officials that I found even the right door of the vast structure, and
+then having passed a room full of agents (or policemen) smoking and
+jesting, and having climbed to a third storey, I was in danger of
+losing for ever the privilege of seeing what I had fixed my mind upon,
+wholly because, although I knew the name and street of my hotel, I did
+not know its number. Who ever dreamed that hotels have numbers? Has
+the Savoy a number in the Strand? Is the Ritz numbered in Piccadilly?
+Not that I was living in any such splendour, but still, on the face of
+it, a hotel has a name because it has no number. "C'est égal," the
+gentleman said at last, after a pantomime of impossibility and
+reproach, and I took my ticket, bowed to the ground, replaced my hat
+and was free to visit the Conciergerie on the morrow. Such are the
+amenities of the tourist's life.
+
+Let me here say that the agents of Paris are by far its politest
+citizens, and in appearance the healthiest. I have never met an
+uncivil agent, and I once met one who refused a tip after he had been
+of considerable service to me. Never did I attempt to tip another.
+They have their defects, no doubt: they have not the authority that we
+give our police: their management of traffic is pathetically
+incompetent; but they are street gentlemen and the foreigner has no
+better friend.
+
+The Conciergerie is the building on the Quai de l'Horloge with the
+circular towers beneath extinguishers--an impressive sight from the
+bridges and the other bank of the river. Most of its cells are now
+used as rooms for soldiers (André Chénier's dungeon is one of their
+kitchens); but a few rooms of the deepest historical interest have
+been left as they were. These are displayed by a listless guide who
+rises to animation only when the time comes to receive his bénéfice
+and offer for sale a history of his preserves.
+
+One sees first the vaulted Salle Saint Louis, called the Salle des Pas
+Perdus because it was through it that the victims of the Revolution
+walked on their way to the Cour de Mai and execution. The terribly
+significant name has since passed to the great lobby of the Palais de
+Justice immediately above it, where it has less appropriateness. It is
+of course the cell of Marie Antoinette that is the most poignant spot
+in this grievous place. When the Queen was here the present room was
+only about half its size, having a partition across it, behind which
+two soldiers were continually on guard, day and night. The Queen was
+kept here, suffering every kind of indignity and petty tyranny, from
+early September, 1793, until October 16th. Her chair, in which she sat
+most of the time, faced the window of the courtyard.
+
+A few acts of kindness reached her in spite of the vigilance of the
+authorities; but very few. I quote the account of two from the
+official guide, a poor thing, which I was weak enough to buy: "The
+Queen had no complaint to make against the concierges Richard nor
+their successors the Baults. It is told that one day Richard asked a
+fruitseller in the neighbourhood to select him the best of her melons,
+whatever it might cost. 'It is for a very important personage,
+then?' said the seller disdainfully, looking at the concierge's
+threadbare clothes. 'Yes,' said he, 'it is for some one who was once
+very important; she is so no longer; it is for the Queen.' 'The
+Queen,' exclaimed the tradeswoman, turning over all her melons, 'the
+Queen! Oh, poor woman! Here, make her eat that, and I won't have you
+pay for it....'
+
+"One of the gendarmes on duty having smoked during the night, learnt
+the following day that the Queen, whom he noticed was very pale, had
+suffered from the smell of the tobacco; he smashed his pipe, swearing
+not to smoke any more. It was he also who said to those who came in
+contact with Marie Antoinette: 'Whatever you do, don't say anything to
+her about her children'."
+
+For her trial the Queen was taken to the Tribunal sitting in what is
+now the First Circle Chamber of the Palais de Justice, and led back in
+the evening to her cell. She was condemned to death on the fifteenth,
+and that night wrote a letter to her sister-in-law Elizabeth which we
+shall see in the Archives Nationales: it is firmly written.
+
+  [Illustration: GIOVANNA TORNABUONI AND THE CARDINAL VIRTUES
+    BOTTICELLI. FRESCO FROM THE VILLA LEMMI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+The Conciergerie had many other prisoners, but none so illustrious.
+Robespierre occupied for twenty-four hours the little cell adjoining
+that of the Queen, now the vestry of the chapel. Madame Du Barry and
+Madame Récamier had cells adjacent to that of Madame Roland. Later
+Maréchal Ney was imprisoned here. The oldest part of all--the kitchens
+of Saint Louis--are not shown.
+
+The Pont au Change, the bridge which connects the Place du Châtelet
+with the Boulevard du Palais, the main street of the Ile de la Cité,
+was once (as the Ponte Vecchio at Florence still is) the headquarters
+of goldsmiths and small bankers. Not the least of the losses that
+civilisation and rebuilders have brought upon us is the disappearance
+of the shops and houses from the bridges. Old London Bridge--how one
+regrets that!
+
+At the corner of the Conciergerie is the Horloge that gives the Quai
+its name--a floridly decorated clock which by no means conveys the
+impression that it has kept time for over five hundred years and is
+the oldest exposed time-piece in France. Paris, by the way, is very
+poor in public clocks, and those that she has are not too trustworthy.
+The one over the Gare St. Lazare has perhaps the best reputation; but
+time in Paris is not of any great importance. For most Parisians there
+is an inner clock which strikes with perfect regularity at about
+twelve and seven, and no other hours really matter. And yet a certain
+show of marking time is made in the hotels, where every room has an
+elaborate ormolu clock, usually under a glass case and rarely going.
+And in one hotel I remember a large clock on every landing, of which I
+passed three on my way upstairs; and their testimony was so various
+that it was two hours later by each, so that by the time I had reached
+my room it was nearly time to get up. On asking the waiter the reason
+he said it was because they were synchronised by electricity.
+
+There has been a Tour de l'Horloge at this corner of the Conciergerie
+ever since it was ordained by Philippe le Bel in 1299; the present
+clock, or at least its scheme of decoration, dates, however, from
+Henri III.'s reign, about 1585. The last elaborate restoration was in
+1852. In the tower above was a bell that was rung only on rare
+occasions. The usual accounts of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew say
+that the signal for that outrage was sounded by the bell of St.
+Germain l'Auxerrois; but others give it to the bell of the Tour de
+l'Horloge. As they are some distance from each other, perhaps both
+were concerned; but since St. Germain l'Auxerrois is close to the
+Louvre, where the King was waiting for the carnage to begin, it is
+probable that it rang the first notes.
+
+One of Méryon's most impressive and powerful etchings represents the
+Tour de l'Horloge and the façade of the Conciergerie. It is a typical
+example of his strange and gloomy genius, for while it is nothing else
+in the world but what it purports to be, it is also quite unlike the
+Tour de l'Horloge and the façade of the Conciergerie as any ordinary
+eyes have seen them. They are made terrible and sinister: they have
+been passed through the dark crucible of Méryon's mind. To see Paris
+as Méryon saw it needs a great effort of imagination, so swiftly and
+instinctively do these people remove the traces of unhappiness or
+disaster. It is the nature of Paris to smile and to forget; from any
+lapse into woe she recovers with extraordinary rapidity.
+
+Méryon's Paris glowers and shudders; there is blood on her hands and
+guilt in her heart. I will not say that his concept is untrue, because
+I believe that the concept formed by a man of genius is always true,
+although it may not contain all the truth, and indeed one has to
+recall very little history to fall easily into Méryon's mood; but for
+the visitor who has chosen Paris for his holiday--the typical reader,
+for example, of this book--Mr. Dexter's concept of Paris is a more
+natural one. (I wish, by the way, before it is too late, that Mr.
+Muirhead Bone would devote some time to the older parts of the
+city--particularly to the Marais. How it lies to his hand!)
+
+Since we are at the gates of the Palais de Justice let us spend a
+little time among the advocates and their clients in the great
+hall--the Salle des Pas Perdus. (In an interesting work, by the way,
+on this building, with a preface by the younger Dumas, the amendment,
+"La Salle du temps perdu" is recommended.) The French law courts, as a
+whole, are little different from our own: they have the same
+stuffiness, they give the same impression of being divided between the
+initiated and the uninitiated, the little secret society of the Bar
+and the great innocent world. But the Salle des Pas Perdus is another
+thing altogether. There is nothing like that in the Strand. Our Strand
+counsel are a dignified, clean-shaven, be-wigged race, striving to
+appear old and inscrutable and important. They are careful of
+appearances; they receive instructions only through solicitors; they
+affect to weigh their words; sagacious reserve is their fetish. Hence
+our law courts, although there are many consultations and incessant
+passings to and fro, are yet subdued in tone and overawing to the
+talkative.
+
+But the Palais de Justice!--Babel was inaudible beside it. In the
+Palais de Justice everyone talks at once; no one cares a sou for
+appearances or reticence; there are no wigs, no shorn lips, no
+affectation of a superhuman knowledge of the world. The French
+advocate comes into direct communication with his client--for the most
+part here. The movement as well as the vociferation is incessant, for
+out of this great hall open as many doors as there are in a French
+farce, and every door is continually swinging. Indeed that is the
+chief effect conveyed: that one is watching a farce, since there has
+never been a farce yet without a legal gentleman in his robes and
+black velvet cap. The chief difference is that here there are hundreds
+of them. As a final touch of humour, or lack of gravity, I may add
+that notices forbidding smoking are numerous, and every advocate and
+every client is puffing hard at his cigarette.
+
+Victor Hugo's _Notre Dame_ begins, it will be remembered, in the great
+Hall of the Palais de Justice, where Gringoire's neglected mystery
+play was performed and Quasimodo won the prize for ugliness. The Hall,
+as Hugo says, was burned in 1618: by a fire which, he tells us, was
+made necessary by the presence in the archives of the Palais of the
+documents in the case of the assassination of Henri IV. by Ravaillac.
+Certain of Ravaillac's accomplices and instigators wishing these
+papers to disappear, the fire followed as a matter of course, as
+naturally as in China a house had to be burned down before there could
+be roast pig.
+
+Sainte Chapelle, which, with the kitchens of Saint Louis under the
+Conciergerie, is all that remains of the royal period of the Palais de
+Justice, is, except on Mondays, always open during the reasonable
+daylight hours and is wholly free from vexatious restrictions.
+Sanctity having passed from it, the French sightseers do not even
+remove their hats, although I have noticed that the English and
+Americans still find the habit too strong. The Chapelle may easily
+disappoint, for such is the dimness of its religious light that little
+is visible save the dark coloured windows. One is, however, conscious
+of perfect proportions and such ecclesiastical elegance as paint and
+gold can convey. It is in fact exquisite, yet not with an
+exquisiteness of simplicity but of design and elaboration. It is like
+a jewel--almost a trinket--which Notre Dame might have once worn on
+her breast and tired of. Its flêche is really beautiful; it darts into
+the sky with only less assurance and joy than that of Notre Dame, and
+I always look up with pleasure to the angel on the eastern point of
+the roof.
+
+  [Illustration: LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+What one has the greatest difficulty in believing is that Sainte
+Chapelle is six hundred and fifty years old. It was built for the
+relics brought from the Crusades by Saint Louis, which are now in the
+Treasury of Notre Dame. The Chapel has, of course, known the
+restorer's hand, but it is virtually the original structure, and some
+of the original glass is still here preserved amid reconstructions. To
+me Sainte Chapelle's glass makes little appeal; but many of my friends
+talk of nothing else. Let us thank God for differences of taste.
+During the Commune (as recently as 1871) an attempt was made to burn
+Sainte Chapelle, together with the Palais de Justice, but it just
+failed. That was the third fire it has survived.
+
+From Sainte Chapelle we pass through the Rue de Lutèce, which is
+opposite, across the Boulevard, because there is a statue here of some
+interest--that of Renaudot, who lived in the first half of the
+seventeenth century at No. 8 Quai du Marché Neuf, close by, and
+founded in 1631 the first French newspaper, the _Gazette de France_.
+Little could he have foreseen the consequences of his rash act! It is
+amusing to stand here a while and meditate on the torrent that has
+proceeded from that small spring. Other cities have as busy a
+journalistic life as Paris, and in London the paper boys are more
+numerous and insistent, while in London we have also the contents'
+bills, which are unknown to France; and yet Paris seems to me to be
+more a city of newspapers than even London is. Perhaps it is the
+kiosques that convey the impression.
+
+The London papers and the Paris papers could not well be more
+different. In the matter of size, Paris, I think, has all the
+advantage, for one may read everything in a few minutes; but in the
+matter of ingredients the advantage surely lies with us, for although
+English papers tell far too much, and by their own over-curiousness
+foster inquisitiveness and busy-bodydom, yet they have some sense of
+what is important, and one can always find the significant news. In
+Paris, if one excepts the best papers, the _Temps_ in particular, the
+significant news is elusive. What one will find, however, is a short
+story or a literary essay written with distinction, an anecdote of the
+day by no means adapted for the young person, and a number of trumpery
+tragedies of passion or excess, minutely told; and in the _Figaro_
+once or twice a week an excellent humorous or satirical drawing. The
+signed articles are always good, and when critical usually fearless,
+but the unsigned notices of a new play or spectacle credit it with
+perfection in every detail; and here, at any rate, as in our best
+reviews of books, we are in a position to feel some of the
+satisfaction that proceeds from conscious superiority.
+
+But, it has to be remembered, in Paris people go to the theatre
+automatically, whereas we pick and choose and have our reasons, and
+even talk of one play being moral and another immoral, and therefore
+in Paris an honest criticism of a play is of little importance. The
+Paris _Daily Mail_ seems to have fallen into line very naturally, for
+I find in it, on the morning on which I write these lines, a puff of
+the Capucines revue, saying that it kept the house in continuous
+laughter by its innocent fun, and will doubtless draw all Paris. As if
+(i) the laughter in any Paris theatre was ever continuous, and as if
+(ii) there was ever any innocent fun at the Capucines, and as if (iii)
+all Paris would go near that theatre if there were!
+
+One reason, I imagine, for the diffuseness of the English paper and
+the brevity of the French, is that the English have so little natural
+conversation that they find it useful to acquire news on which to base
+more; while the French need no such assistance. The English again are
+interested in other nations, whereas the French care nothing for any
+land but France. There is no space in which to continue this not
+untempting analysis: it would require much room, for to understand
+thoroughly the difference between, say, the _Daily Telegraph_ and the
+_Journal_ is to understand the difference between England and France.
+
+The French comic papers one sees everywhere--except in people's hands.
+I suppose they are bought, or they would not be published; but I have
+hardly ever observed a Frenchman reading one that was his own
+property. The fault of the French comic paper is monotony. Voltaire
+accused the English of having seventy religions and only one sauce; my
+quarrel with the French is that they have seventy sauces and only one
+joke. This joke you meet everywhere. Artists of diabolical cleverness
+illustrate it in colours every week; versifiers and musicians
+introduce it into songs; comic singers sing it; playwrights dramatise
+it; novelists and journalists weave it into prose. It is the oldest
+joke and it is ever new. Nothing can prevent a Parisian laughing at it
+as if it were as fresh as his roll, his journal or his petit Gervais.
+For a people with a world-wide reputation for wit, this is very
+strange; but in some directions the French are incorrigibly juvenile,
+almost infantine. Personally I envy them for it. I think it must be
+charming never to grow out of such an affection for indecency that
+even a nursery mishap can still be always funny.
+
+One of the comic papers must, however, be exempted from these
+generalisations. _Le Rire_, _Le Journal Amusant_, _La Vie Parisienne_
+and the scores of cheaper imitations may depend for their living on
+the one joke; but _L'Assiette au Beurre_ is more serious. _L'Assiette
+au Beurre_ is first and foremost a satirist. It chastises continually,
+and its whip is often scorpions. Even its lighter numbers, chiefly
+given to ridicule, contain streaks of savagery.
+
+At the end of the brief Rue de Lutèce is the great Hôtel Dieu, the
+oldest hospital in Paris, having been founded in the seventh century;
+and to the left of it is one of the Paris flower markets, where much
+beautiful colour may be seen very formally and unintelligently
+arranged. Gardens are among those things that we order (or shall I say
+disorder?) better than the French do.
+
+And now we will enter Notre Dame.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+NOTRE DAME
+
+     Pagan Origins and Christian Predecessors--The Beginnings of
+     Notre Dame--Victor Hugo--The Dangers of Renovation--Old
+     Glass and New--A Wedding--The Cathedral's Great Moment--The
+     Hundred Poor Girls and Louis XVI.--The Revolution--Mrs.
+     Momoro, Goddess of Reason--The Legend of Our Lady of the
+     Bird--Coronation of Napoleon--The Communards and the
+     Students--The Treasures of the Sacristy--Three Hundred and
+     Ninety-seven Steps--Quasimodo and Esmeralda--Paris at our
+     Feet--The Eiffel Tower--The Devils of Notre Dame--The
+     Precincts--Notre Dame from the Quai.
+
+
+If the Ile de la Cité is the eye of Paris, then, to adapt one of
+Oliver Wendell Holmes' metaphors, Notre Dame is its pupil. It stands
+on ground that has been holy, or at least religious, for many
+centuries, for part of its site was once occupied by the original
+mother church of Paris, St. Etienne, built in the fourth century; and
+close by, in the Place du Parvis, have been discovered the foundations
+of another church, dating from the sixth century, dedicated to Sainte
+Marie; while beneath that are the remains of a Temple of Apollo or
+Jupiter, relics of which we shall see at the Cluny. The origin of
+Notre Dame, the fusion of these two churches, is wrapped in darkness;
+but Victor Hugo roundly states that the first stone of it was laid by
+Charlemagne (who reigned from 768 to 814, and whose noble equestrian
+statue stands just outside), and the last by Philip Augustus, who was
+a friend of our Richard Coeur de Lion. The more usual account of the
+older parts of the Notre Dame that one sees to-day is that the first
+stone of it was laid in 1163, in the reign of Louis VII., by Pope
+Alexander III., who chanced then to be in Paris engaged in the task of
+avoiding his enemies, the Ghibellines, and that in almost exactly a
+hundred years, in the reign of Saint Louis, it was completed. (I say
+completed, but as a matter of fact it is not completed even yet, for
+each of the square towers was designed to carry a spire, and I
+remember seeing at the Paris Exhibition of 1889 a number of drawings
+of the cathedral by young architects, with these spires added. It is,
+however, very unlikely that they will ever sprout, and I, for one,
+hope not.)
+
+Victor Hugo is, of course, if not the first authority on Notre Dame,
+its most sympathetic poet, lover and eulogist; and it seems ridiculous
+for me to attempt description when every book shop in Paris has a copy
+of his rich and fantastic romance, Book III. of which is an interlude
+in the story wholly given to the glory of the cathedral. You may read
+there not only of what Notre Dame is, but of what it is not and should
+be: the shortcomings of architects and the vandalism of mobs are alike
+reported. Mobs! Paris is seared with cicatrices from the hands of her
+matricidal children, and Notre Dame especially so. Attempts to set
+her on fire were made not only by the revolutionaries but by the
+Communards too. These she resisted, but much of her statuary went
+during the Revolution, the assailants sparing the Last Judgment on the
+façade, but accounting very swiftly for a series of kings of Israel
+and Judah (who, however, have since been replaced) under the
+impression that they were monarchs of native growth and therefore not
+to be endured.
+
+The statue of the Virgin in the centre of the façade, with Adam and
+Eve on each side, is not, I may say, the true Notre Dame of Paris: She
+is within the church--much older and simpler, on a column to the right
+of the altar as we face it. She is a sweeter and more winning figure
+than that between our first parents on the façade.
+
+When I first knew Notre Dame it was, to the visitor from the open air,
+all scented darkness. And then as one grew accustomed to the gloom the
+cathedral opened slowly like a great flower--not so beautifully as
+Chartres, but with its own grandeur and fascination. That was twenty
+years ago. It is not the same since it has been scraped and lightened
+within. That old clinging darkness has gone. There are times of day
+now, when the sun spatters on the wall, when it might be almost any
+church; but towards evening in the gloom it is Notre Dame de Paris
+again, mysterious and a little sinister. A bright light not only
+chases the shade from its aisles and recesses but also shows up the
+garishness of its glass. For the glass of France, usually bad, is
+here often almost at its worst. That glorious wheel window in the
+north transept--whose upper wall has indeed more glass than stone in
+it--could not well be more beautiful, and the rose window over the
+organ is beautiful too. But for the rest, the glass is either too
+pretty, as in the case of the window over the altar, so lovely in
+shape, or utterly trumpery.
+
+The last time I was in Notre Dame I followed a wedding party through
+the main and usually locked door, but although I was the first after
+the bride and her father, I was not quick enough to set foot on the
+ceremonial carpet, which a prudent verger rolled up literally upon
+their heels. It was a fortunate moment on which to arrive, for it
+meant a vista of the nave from the open air right up the central
+aisle, and that, except in very hot weather, is rare, and probably
+very rare indeed when the altar is fully lighted.
+
+The secret of Notre Dame, both within and without, is to be divined
+only by loitering in it with a mind at rest. To enter intent upon
+seeing it is useless. Outside, one can walk round it for ever and
+still be surprised by the splendid vagaries, humours and resource of
+its stone; while within, one can, by making oneself plastic, gradually
+but surely attain to some of the adoration that was felt for this
+sanctuary by Quasimodo himself. Let us sit down on one of these chairs
+in the gloom and meditate on some of the scenes which its stones have
+witnessed.
+
+While it was yet building Raymond VII., Count of Toulouse, was
+scourged before the principal doorway for heresy, on a spot where the
+pillory long stood. That was in 1229. In 1248 St. Louis, on his way to
+the Holy Land, visited Notre Dame to receive his pilgrim's staff and
+scrip from the Bishop. In 1270 the body of St. Louis lay in state
+under this roof before it was carried to St. Denis for burial. Henry
+VI. of England was crowned here as King of France--the first and last
+English king to receive that honour. One Sunday in 1490, while Mass
+was being celebrated, a man called Jean l'Anglais (as we should now
+say, John Bull) snatched the Host from the priest's hand and profaned
+it: for which crime he was burnt. In 1572 Henri IV. (then Henri of
+Navarre) was married to Marguerite de Valois, but being a Protestant
+he was not allowed within the church, and the ceremony was therefore
+performed just outside. When, however, he entered Paris triumphantly
+as a conqueror and a Catholic in 1594, he heard Mass and assisted at
+the Te Deum in Notre Dame like a true Frenchman and ironist. In 1611
+his funeral service was celebrated here.
+
+Some very ugly events are in store for us; let something pretty
+intervene. On February 9th, 1779 (in the narrative of Louise de
+Grandpré, to whom the study of Notre Dame has been a veritable
+passion), a large crowd pressed towards the cathedral; the ground was
+strewed with fresh grass and flowers and leaves; the pillars were
+decorated with many coloured banners. In the choir the vestments of
+the saints were displayed: the burning tapers lit up the interior
+with a dazzling brightness: the organ filled the church with joyful
+harmony, and the bells rang out with all their might. The whole court
+was present, the King himself assisting at the ceremony, and the
+galleries were full to overflowing of ladies of distinction in the
+gayest of dresses.
+
+Then slowly, through the door of St. Anne, entered a hundred young
+girls dressed in white, covered with long veils and with orange
+blossom on their heads. These were the hundred poor girls whom Louis
+XVI. had dowered in memory of the birth of Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte of
+France, afterwards Duchess of Angoulême, and it was his wish to assist
+personally at their wedding and to seal their marriage licences with
+his sword, which was ornamented on the handle or pommel with the
+"fleur de lys".
+
+Through the door of the Virgin entered at the same time one hundred
+young men, having each a sprig of orange blossom in his button-hole.
+The two rows advanced together with measured steps, preceded by two
+Swiss, who struck the pavement heavily with their halberds. They
+advanced as far as the chancel rails, where each young man gave his
+hand to a young girl, his fiancée, and marched slowly before the King,
+bowing to him and receiving a bow in return. They were then married by
+the Archbishop in person.
+
+A very charming incident, don't you think? Such a royal gift, adds
+Louise de Grandpré, would be very welcome to-day, when there are so
+many girls unmarried, for the want of a dot. Every rich young girl
+who is married ought to include in her corbeille de noces the dot of
+some poor girl. All women, remarks Louise de Grandpré, have a right to
+this element of love, which is sanctified by marriage, honoured by men
+and blessed by God. Christian marriage, says Louise de Grandpré, is a
+nursery not only of good Catholics but still more of good citizens. It
+is much to be wished, she concludes, that obstacles could be removed,
+because one deplores the depopulation of France.
+
+  [Illustration: SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JÉSUS
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+The most fantastic and discreditable episode in the history of Notre
+Dame occurred one hundred and fifteen years ago, when the Convention
+decreed the Cult of Reason, and Notre Dame became its Temple. A ballet
+dancer was throned on the high altar, Our Lady of Paris was taken
+down, and statues of Voltaire and Rousseau stepped into the niches of
+the saints. Carlyle was never more wonderful than in the three or four
+pages that describe this cataclysm. He begins with the revolt of the
+Curate Parens, followed by Bishop Gobel of Paris clamouring for an
+honest calling since there was no religion but Liberty.
+
+"The French nation," Carlyle writes, "is of gregarious imitative
+nature; it needed but a fugle-motion in this matter; and Goose Gobel,
+driven by Municipality and force of circumstances, has given one. What
+Curé will be behind him of Boissise; what Bishop behind him of Paris?
+Bishop Grégoire, indeed, courageously declines; to the sound of 'We
+force no one; let Grégoire consult his conscience'; but Protestant
+and Romish by the hundred volunteer and assent. From far and near, all
+through November into December, till the work is accomplished, come
+letters of renegation, come Curates who 'are learning to be
+Carpenters,' Curates with their new-wedded Nuns: has not the day of
+Reason dawned, very swiftly, and become noon? From sequestered
+Townships come Addresses, stating plainly, though in Patois dialect,
+that 'they will have no more to do with the black animal called Curay,
+_animal noir appelé Curay_.'
+
+"Above all things, there come Patriotic Gifts, of Church-furniture.
+The remnant of bells, except for tocsin, descend from their belfries,
+into the National melting-pot to make cannon. Censers and all sacred
+vessels are beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the
+poverty-stricken Mint; of pewter, let them become bullets, to shoot
+the 'enemies _du genre humain_'. Dalmatics of plush make breeches for
+him who had none; linen albs will clip into shirts for the Defenders
+of the Country: old-clothesmen, Jew or Heathen, drive the briskest
+trade. Chalier's Ass-Procession, at Lyons, was but a type of what went
+on, in those same days, in all Towns. In all Towns and Townships as
+quick as the guillotine may go, so quick goes the axe and the wrench:
+sacristies, lutrins, altar-rails are pulled down; the Mass-Books torn
+into cartridge-papers: men dance the Carmagnole all night about the
+bonfire. All highways jingle with metallic Priest-tackle, beaten
+broad; sent to the Convention, to the poverty-stricken Mint. Good
+Sainte Geneviève's _Chasse_ is let down: alas, to be burst open, this
+time, and burnt on the Place de Grève. Saint Louis's Shirt is
+burnt;--might not a Defender of the Country have had it?...
+
+"For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole-dance has hardly jigged
+itself out, there arrive Procureur Chaumette and Municipals and
+Departmentals, and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion!
+Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman fair to look upon, when
+well rouged; she, borne on palanquin shoulder-high; with red woollen
+nightcap; in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her hand the
+Pike of the Jupiter-_Peuple_, sails in: heralded by white young women
+girt in tricolor. Let the world consider it! This, O National
+Convention wonder of the universe, is our New Divinity; _Goddess of
+Reason_, worthy, and alone worthy of revering. Her henceforth we
+adore. Nay were it too much to ask of an august National
+Representation that it also went with us to the _ci-devant_ Cathedral
+called of Notre-Dame, and executed a few strophes in worship of her?
+
+"President and Secretaries give Goddess Candeille, borne at due height
+round their platform, successively the Fraternal kiss; whereupon she,
+by decree, sails to the right-hand of the President and there alights.
+And now, after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention,
+gathering its limbs, does get under way in the required procession
+towards Notre-Dame;--Reason, again in her litter, sitting in the van
+of them, borne, as one judges, by men in the Roman costume; escorted
+by wind-music, red nightcaps, and the madness of the world....
+
+"'The corresponding Festival in the Church of Saint-Eustache,' says
+Mercier, 'offered the spectacle of a great tavern. The interior of the
+choir represented a landscape decorated with cottages and boskets of
+trees. Round the choir stood tables overloaded with bottles, with
+sausages, pork-puddings, pastries and other meats. The guests flowed
+in and out through all doors: whosoever presented himself took part of
+the good things: children of eight, girls as well as boys, put hand to
+plate, in sign of Liberty; they drank also of the bottles, and their
+prompt intoxication created laughter. Reason sat in azure mantle
+aloft, in a serene manner; Cannoneers, pipe in mouth, serving her as
+acolytes. And out of doors,' continues the exaggerative man, 'were mad
+multitudes dancing round the bonfire of Chapel-balustrades, of
+Priests' and Canons' stalls; and the dancers,--I exaggerate
+nothing,--the dancers nigh bare of breeches, neck and breast naked,
+stockings down, went whirling and spinning, like those Dust-vortexes,
+forerunners of Tempest and Destruction.' At Saint-Gervais Church,
+again, there was a terrible 'smell of herrings'; Section or
+Municipality having provided no food, no condiment, but left it to
+chance. Other mysteries, seemingly of a Cabiric or even Paphian
+character, we leave under the Veil, which appropriately stretches
+itself 'along the pillars of the aisles,'--not to be lifted aside by
+the hand of History.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ILE DE LA CITÉ FROM THE PONT DES ARTS
+    TOUR ST. JACQUES
+    CONCIERGERIE
+    STE. CHAPELLE
+    NOTRE DAME]
+
+"But there is one thing we should like almost better to understand
+than any other: what Reason herself thought of it, all the while. What
+articulate words poor Mrs. Momoro, for example, uttered; when she had
+become ungoddessed again, and the Bibliopolist and she sat quiet at
+home, at supper? For he was an earnest man, Bookseller Momoro; and had
+notions of Agrarian Law. Mrs. Momoro, it is admitted, made one of the
+best Goddesses of Reason; though her teeth were a little
+defective.--And now if the Reader will represent to himself that such
+visible Adoration of Reason went on 'all over the Republic,' through
+these November and December weeks, till the Church woodwork was
+burnt out, and the business otherwise completed, he will perhaps feel
+sufficiently what an adoring Republic it was, and without reluctance
+quit this part of the subject."
+
+I quote in the following pages freely from Carlyle, because the
+Revolution is the most important event in the history of Paris and so
+horribly recent (you may still see the traces of Bonaparte's whiff of
+grape-shot on the façade of St. Roch), and also because when there is
+such an historian to borrow from direct, paraphrase becomes a crime.
+None the less, I feel it my duty to say that the attitude of this
+self-protective contemptuous superior Scotchman towards the excitable
+French and their hot-headed efforts for freedom often enrages me as
+much as his vivid narrative fascinates and moves.
+
+In 1794, when the New Religion had died down, the Church became a
+store for wine confiscated from the Royalists. In the year following,
+after the whiff of grape-shot, the old religion was re-established. A
+strange interregnum! How long ago was this?--only one hundred and
+fifteen years--not four generations. Could it happen again? Will
+it?...
+
+These revolutionaries, it may be remarked, were not the only
+licentious rioters that Notre Dame had known, for in its early days it
+was the scene every year of the Fête des Fous, an orgy of gluttony and
+conviviality, in which, however, one who was a true believer on all
+other days might partake.
+
+After these lurid saturnalia it is pleasant again to dip into the
+gentle pages of Louise de Grandpré, where, among other legends of
+Notre Dame, is the pretty story of a statue of the Virgin--now known
+as the Virgin with the bird. In the Rue Chanoinesse there lived a
+young woman, very devout, who came every day to pray. She brought with
+her her son, a little fellow, very wide-awake and full of spirits: his
+mother had taught him to say his prayers. Cyril would close his little
+hands to say his "Ave Maria," and he would throw a kiss to the little
+Jesus, his dear friend, complaining sometimes to his mother that the
+little Jesus would not play with him. "You are not good enough yet,"
+said his mother; "Jesus plays only with the little children in
+Paradise."
+
+A very severe winter fell and the young mother fell ill and no longer
+came to church. Cyril never saw the little Jesus now, but he often
+thought of him as he played at the foot of his mother's bed. On one of
+those days when the sky was dull and leaden and the air heavy and
+depressing, and the poor woman was rather worse and more hopeless than
+usual, she became so weak they thought each moment would be her last.
+
+Cyril could not understand why his mother no longer smiled at him or
+stroked his hair or called him to her. With his little heart almost
+bursting and his eyes full of tears, he said, "I will go and tell the
+little Jesus of my trouble."
+
+While they were attending to the poor mother the child disappeared. He
+ran as fast as his little legs would carry him and entered the
+cathedral by the cloister door, crossed the transept, and was soon at
+the foot of the statue of the Virgin Mary, where he was accustomed to
+say his prayers with his mother. "Little Jesus," said he, "Thou art
+very happy, Thou hast Thy Mother; mine, who was so good, is always
+asleep now and I am alone. Little Jesus, wake my mother up, and I will
+give you my best toys, morning and evening I will send you the
+sweetest kiss and say my best prayer. And look, to begin with, I have
+brought you my favourite bird: he is tame and will eat the golden
+crumbs of Paradise out of your hand." At the same time he stretched
+out his little closed hand towards Jesus.
+
+The divine child stretched out His hand and Cyril let his beloved
+little bird escape. The bird, who had a lovely coloured plumage, flew
+straight to the hand of the Infant Christ and has remained there to
+this day. The Virgin smiled on the child, and her white stone robe at
+that moment became the same colour as the bird's plumage.
+
+Cyril, with his heart very full, got up to go out, but before leaving
+the church turned round to have one more look at his little bird he
+loved so dearly: he was struck with delight and astonishment when he
+heard the favoured bird singing one of its sweetest songs in honour of
+the Virgin and her Child.
+
+When Cyril returned to his home he went into his mother's room without
+making the least noise to see if she was still asleep. The young
+mother was sitting upright in her bed, her head, still very bad,
+resting on a pillow, but her wide-open eyes were looking for her
+little one.
+
+"I was quite sure the little Jesus would wake you up," said Cyril,
+climbing on to her bed. "I took Him my bird this morning to take care
+of for me in the Garden of Paradise."
+
+Life once more returned to the poor woman and she kissed her boy.
+
+When you next go to Notre Dame, Louise de Grandpré adds, be sure to
+visit the Vierge à l'oiseau, who always hears the prayers of the
+little ones.
+
+It was in 1804 that Notre Dame enjoyed one of its most magnificent
+moments--at the coronation of Napoleon and Josephine Beauharnais. The
+Duchess d'Abrantès wrote an account of the ceremony which, in French,
+is both picturesque and rapturous. "The pope was the first to arrive.
+At the moment of his entering the cathedral, the clergy intoned Tu es
+Petrus, and this solemn chant made a deep impression on all. Pius the
+VII. advanced to the end of the cathedral with a majestic yet humble
+grace.... The moment when all eyes were most drawn to the Altar steps
+was when Josephine received the crown from the Emperor and was
+solemnly consecrated by him Empress of the French. When it was time
+for her to take an active part in the great ceremony, the Empress
+descended from the throne and advanced towards the altar, where the
+Emperor awaited her....
+
+"I saw," the Duchess continues, "all that I have just told you, with
+the eyes of Napoleon. He was radiant with joy as he watched the
+Empress advancing towards him; and when she knelt ... and the tears
+she could not restrain fell upon her clasped hands, raised more
+towards him than towards God: at this moment, when Napoleon, or rather
+Bonaparte, was for her her true providence, at this instant there was
+between these two beings one of those fleeting moments of life,
+unique, which fill up the void of years.
+
+"The Emperor invested with perfect grace every action of the ceremony
+he had to perform: above all, at the moment of crowning the Empress.
+This was to be done by the Emperor himself, who after receiving the
+little closed crown surmounted by a cross, had to place it on his own
+head first, and then place it on the Empress's head. He did this in
+such a slow, gracious and courtly manner that it was noticed by all.
+But at the supreme moment of crowning her who was to him his lucky
+star, he was almost coquettish, if I may use the term. He placed the
+little crown, which surmounted the diadem of brilliants, on her head,
+first putting it on, then taking it off and putting it on again, as if
+assuring himself that it should rest lightly and softly on her.
+
+"But Napoleon," the Duchess concludes, "when it came to his own crown,
+hastily took it from the Pope's hands and placed it haughtily on his
+own head--a proceeding which doubtless startled his Holiness."
+
+Ten years pass and we find Louis XVIII. and his family attending Mass
+at the same altar. Twenty-six years later, in 1840, a service was held
+to commemorate the restoration of the ashes of the Emperor to French
+soil, and in 1853 Napoleon III. and Eugénie de Montijo were married
+here, under circumstances of extraordinary splendour. And then we come
+to plunder and lawlessness again. On Good Friday, 1871, while Père
+Olivier was preaching, a company of Communards entered and from
+thenceforward for a while the cathedral was occupied by the soldiers.
+For some labyrinthine reason the destruction of Notre Dame by fire was
+decided upon, and a huge pile of chairs and other material soaked in
+petrol was erected (this was only thirty-eight years ago), and no
+doubt the building would have been seriously injured, if not
+destroyed, had not the medical students from the Hôtel Dieu, close by,
+rushed in and saved it.
+
+  [Illustration: LA PENSÉE
+    RODIN
+    _(Luxembourg)_]
+
+Among the preachers of Notre Dame was St. Dominic, to whom in the
+pulpit the Virgin appeared, bringing with her his sermon all to his
+hand in an effulgent volume; here also preached Père Hyacinthe, but
+with less direct assistance.
+
+That the Treasury is an object of interest to English-speaking
+visitors is proved by the notice at the door: "The Persons who desire
+to visit the Trésor are kindly requested to wait the guide here for a
+few minutes, himself charged of the visit"; but I see no good reason
+why any one should enter it. Those, however, that do will see vessels
+of gold, much paraphernalia of ecclesiastical pride and pomp, and
+certain holy relics. The crown of thorns is here, given to St. Louis
+by the King of Constantinople and carried to Notre Dame, on the 18th
+of August, 1239, by the barefoot king. Here also are pieces of the
+Cross, for the protection of which St. Louis built Sainte Chapelle,
+the relics afterwards being transferred to Notre Dame; and here is a
+nail from the Cross--one of the nails of which even an otherwise
+sceptical Catholic can be sure, because it was given to Charlemagne by
+Constantine. Charlemagne gave it to Aix la Chapelle, Charles the Bold
+brought it from Aix to St. Denis, and from St. Denis it came to Notre
+Dame, where it is enclosed in a crystal case.
+
+The menace of 397 spiral steps in a narrow, dark and almost airless
+turret, is no light matter, but it is essential to see Paris from the
+summit of Notre Dame. That view is the key to the city, and the
+traveller who means to study this city as it deserves, penetrating
+into the past as industriously and joyously as into the present, must
+begin here. He will see it all beneath him and around him in its
+varying ages, and he will be able to proceed methodically and
+intelligently. Immediately below is the Parvis, the scene of the
+interrupted execution of Esmeralda, and it was from one of the
+galleries below that Quasimodo slung himself down to her rescue. Here,
+where we are now standing, she must often have stood, looking for her
+faithless Phoebus. Only one of the bells that Quasimodo rang is
+still in the tower.
+
+Hugo draws attention to the shape of the island, like that of a ship
+moored to the mainland by various bridges, and he suggests that the
+ship on the Paris scutcheon (the ship that is to be seen in the design
+of the lamps around the Opera) is derived from this resemblance. It
+may be so. On each side of us, north and south, are the oldest parts
+of Paris that still stand; in the north the Marais, behind the Tour
+Saint-Jacques, and in the south the district between the Rue de Bièvre
+and the Boulevard St. Michel. On the south side of the river lived the
+students, clerics and professors--Dante himself among them, in this
+very Rue de Bièvre, as we shall see; while in the Marais, as we shall
+also see, dwelt the nobility. West of St. Eustache in the Middle Ages
+was nothing but waste ground and woodland, a kind of Bois, at the edge
+of which, where the Louvre now spreads itself, was a royal hunting
+lodge, the germ of the present vast palace.
+
+When the Marais passed out of favour, the aristocracy crossed the
+river to the St. Germain quarter, which clusters around the twin
+spires of St. Clotilde that now rise in the south-west. And then the
+Rue Saint-Honoré and the Grands Boulevards were built, and so the city
+grew and changed until the two culminating touches were put to it: by
+M. Eiffel, who built the tower, and M. Abadie, architect of the
+beautiful and unreal Basilique du Sacré-Coeur that crowns the heights
+of Montmartre.
+
+The chief eminences that one sees are, near at hand, the needle-spire
+of Sainte Chapelle, in the north the grey mass of St. Eustache, the
+Châtelet Theatre (advertising at this moment "Les Pilules du Diable"
+in enormous letters), the long roofs of the Halles, and the outline of
+the medieval Tour Saint-Jacques. Farther west the bulky Opera; then,
+right in front, the Trocadéro's twin towers, with Mont Valérien
+looming up immediately between them; and so round to the south--to the
+Invalides and St. Clotilde, the Panthéon and the heights of Geneviève.
+A wonderful panorama.
+
+Of all the views of Paris I think that from Notre Dame is the most
+interesting, because the point is most central; but the views from
+Montmartre, from the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Panthéon and the Arc de
+Triomphe should be studied too. The Eiffel Tower has dwarfed all those
+eminences; they lie far below it, mere ant-hills in the landscape,
+although they seem high enough when one essays their steps; yet,
+although it makes them so lowly, these older coigns of vantage should
+not for a moment be considered as superseded, for each does for its
+immediate vicinage what the Eiffel giant can never do. From the Arc de
+Triomphe, for example, you command all the luxurious activity of the
+Avenue du Bois de Boulogne and the wonderful prospect of the Champs
+Elysées, ending with the Louvre; and from the Panthéon you may examine
+the roofs of the Latin Quarter and see the children at play in the
+gardens of the Luxembourg.
+
+The merit of the Eiffel Tower is that he shows you not only Paris to
+the ultimate edges in every direction save on the northern slopes of
+Montmartre, but he shows you (almost) France too. How long the Eiffel
+Tower is to stand I cannot say, but I for one shall feel sorry and
+bereft when he ceases to straddle over Paris. For though he is vulgar
+he is great, and he has come to be a symbol. When he goes, he will
+make a strange rent in the sky. This year (1909) is his twentieth: he
+and I first came to Paris at the same time; but his life is serene
+to-day compared with what it was in his infancy. At that time his
+platforms were congested from morn to dusk; but few visitors now
+ascend even to the first stage and hardly any to the top. No visitor,
+however, who wants to synthesise Paris should omit this adventure.
+Only in a balloon can one get a better view, but in no balloon adrift
+from this green earth would I, for one, ever trust myself, although I
+must confess that the procession of those aerial monsters that floated
+serenely past the Eiffel Tower on the last occasion that I climbed it,
+suggested nothing but content and security. They rose one by one from
+the bosky depths of the Bois, five miles away, gradually disentangled
+themselves from the surrounding verdure, assumed their independent
+buoyant rotundity and came straight to my waiting eye. In an hour I
+counted fifteen, and by the time the last was free of the earth the
+first was away over Vincennes, with the afternoon sun turning its
+mud-coloured silk to burnished gold. Paris has always one balloon
+floating above her, but fifteen is exceptional.
+
+Notre Dame remains, however, the most important height to scale, for
+Notre Dame is interesting in every particular, it is soaked in history
+and mystery. Notre Dame is alone in the possession of its
+devils--those strange stone fantasies that Méryon discovered. Although
+every effort is made to familiarise us with them--although they sit
+docilely as paper-weights on our tables--nothing can lessen the
+monstrous diablerie of these figures, which look down on Paris with
+such greed and cruelty, cunning and cynicism. The best known, the most
+saturnine, of all, who leans on the parapet exactly by the door at the
+head of the steps, fixes his inhuman gaze on the dome of the
+Invalides. Is it to be wondered at that he wears that expression?
+
+A small family dwells in a room just behind this chimera, subsisting
+by the sale of picture-postcards. It is a strange abode, and an
+imaginative child would have a good start in life there. To him at any
+rate the demons no doubt would soon lose their terrors and become as
+friendly as the heavenly host that are posed so radiantly and
+confidently on the ascent to the flèche--perhaps even more so. But to
+the stranger they must remain cruel and horrible, creating a sense of
+disquietude and alarm that it is surely the business of a cathedral to
+allay. Curious anomaly! Let us descend.
+
+Before leaving the Ile de la Cité, the Rue Chanoinesse, to the north
+of Notre Dame, leading out of the Rue d'Arcole (near a blackguard
+pottery shop), should be looked at. The cloisters of Notre Dame once
+extended to this street and covered the ground between it and the
+cathedral. The canons, or chanoines, lived here, and there are still a
+few attractive old houses; but the rebuilder is very busy just now. At
+No. 10, Fulbert, the uncle of Héloïse, is said to have lived; at No.
+18 was the Tour Dagobert, a fifteenth-century building, by climbing
+which one had an excellent view of Notre Dame, but in the past year it
+has been demolished and business premises cover its site. At No. 26
+are (or were) the ruins of the twelfth-century chapel of St. Aignan,
+where the faithful, evicted from Notre Dame by the Reign of Reason,
+celebrated Mass in secret. Saint Bernard has preached here. The
+adjacent streets--the Rue de Colombe, Rue Massillon, Rue des Ursins
+and Rue du Cloître-Notre-Dame--have also very old houses.
+
+  [Illustration: BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE
+    RAPHAEL
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+For the best view of the exterior of Notre Dame one must take the Quai
+de l'Archevêché, from which all its intricacies of masonry may be
+studied--its buttresses solid and flying, its dependences, its massive
+bulk, its grace and strength.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+ST. LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND
+
+     The Morgue--The Ile St. Louis--Old Residents--St. Louis, the
+     King--The Golden Legend--Religious Intolerance--Posthumous
+     Miracles--Statue of Barye--The Quai des Célestins.
+
+
+On the way from Notre Dame to the Ile St. Louis we pass a small
+official-looking building at the extreme east end of the Ile de la
+Cité. It is the Morgue.
+
+But the Morgue is now closed to idle gazers, and you win your way to a
+sight of that melancholy slab with the weary bodies on it and the
+little jet of water playing on each, only by the extreme course of
+having missed a relation whom you suspected of designs upon his own
+life or whom you imagine has been the victim of foul play. No doubt
+the authorities were well advised (as French municipal authorities
+nearly always are) in closing the Morgue; but I think I regret it. The
+impulse to drift into that low and sinister building behind Notre Dame
+was partly morbid, no doubt; but the ordinary man sees not only too
+little death, but is too seldom in the presence of such failure as for
+the most part governs here: so that the opportunity it gave was good.
+
+I still recall very vividly, in spite of all the millions of living
+faces that should, one feels, have blurred one's prosperous vision,
+several of the dead faces that lay behind the glass of this forlorn
+side-show of the great entertainment which we call Paris. An old man
+with a white imperial; more than one woman of that dreadful middle-age
+which the Seine has so often terminated; a young man who had been
+stabbed.... Well, the Morgue is closed to the public now, and very
+likely no one who reads this book will ever enter it.
+
+The Ile St. Louis, to put it bluntly, is just as commonplace as the
+Ile de la Cité is imposing. It has a monotony very rare in the older
+parts of Paris: it is all white houses that have become dingy: houses
+that once were attractive and wealthy and are now squalid. One of the
+largest of the old palaces is to-day a garage; there is not a single
+house now occupied by the kind of tenant for which it was intended.
+Such declensions are always rather melancholy, even when--as, for
+example, at Villeneuve, near Avignon--there is the beauty of decay
+too. But on the Ile St. Louis there is no beauty: it belongs to a dull
+period of architecture and is now duller for its dirt. Standing on the
+Quai d'Orléans, however, one catches Notre Dame against the evening
+sky, across the river, as nowhere else, and it is necessary to seek
+the Ile if only to appreciate the fitness of the Morgue's position.
+
+The island was first called L'Ile Notre Dame, and was uninhabited
+until 1614. It was then developed and joined to the Ile de la Cité and
+the mainland by bridges. The chief street is the Rue St. Louis, at
+No. 3 in which lived Fénélon. The church of St. Louis is interesting
+for a relic of the unfortunate Louise de la Vallière. At No. 17 on the
+Quai d'Anjou is the Hôtel Lauzun, which the city of Paris has now
+acquired, and in which once lived together for a while the authors of
+_Mademoiselle de Maupin_ and _Les Fleurs de Mal_.
+
+Of Saint Louis, or Louis IX., who gives his name to this island, and
+whose hand is so visible in the Ile de la Cité, it is right to know
+something, for he was the father of Paris. Louis was born in 1215, the
+year of Magna Charta, and succeeded to the throne while still a boy.
+The early years of his reign were restless by reason of civil strife
+and war with England, in which he was victor (at Tailleburg, at
+Saintes and at Blaize), and then came his departure for the Holy Land,
+with 40,000 men, in fulfilment of a vow made rashly on a sick-bed. The
+King was blessed at Notre Dame, as we have seen, and departed in 1248,
+leaving his mother Blanche de Castile as regent. But the Crusade was a
+failure, and he was glad to return (with only the ghost of his army)
+and to settle down for the first time seriously to the cares of his
+throne.
+
+He was a good if prejudiced king: he built wisely and well, not only
+Sainte Chapelle, as we have seen, but the Sorbonne; he devised useful
+statutes; he established police in Paris; and, more perhaps than all,
+he made Frenchmen very proud of France. So much for his administrative
+virtues. When we come to his saintliness I would stand aside, for is
+he not in _The Golden Legend_? Listen to William Caxton: "He forced
+himself to serve his spirit by diverse castigation or chastising, he
+used the hair many times next his flesh, and when he left it for cause
+of over feebleness of his body, at the instance of his own confessor,
+he ordained the said confessor to give to the poor folk, as for
+recompensation of every day that he failed of it, forty shillings. He
+fasted always the Friday, and namely in time of lent and advent he
+abstained him in those days from all manner of fish and from fruits,
+and continually travailed and pained his body by watchings, orisons,
+and other secret abstinences and disciplines. Humility, beauty of all
+virtues, replenished so strong in him, that the more better he waxed,
+so, as David, the more he showed himself meek and humble, and more
+foul he reputed him before God.
+
+"For he was accustomed on every Saturday to wash with his own hands,
+in a secret place, the feet of some poor folk, and after dried them
+with a fair towel, and kissed much humbly and semblably their hands,
+distributing or dealing to every one of them a certain sum of silver,
+also to seven score poor men which daily came to his court, he
+administered meat and drink with his own hands, and were fed
+abundantly on the vigils solemn. And on some certain days in the year
+to two hundred poor, before that he ate or drank, he with his own
+hands administered and served them both of meat and drink. He ever
+had, both at his dinner and supper, three ancient poor, which ate nigh
+to him, to whom he charitably sent of such meats as were brought
+before him, and sometimes the dishes and meats that the poor of our
+Lord had touched with their hands, and special the sops of which he
+fain ate, made their remnant or relief to be brought before him, to
+the end that he should eat it; and yet again to honour and worship the
+name of our Lord on the poor folk, he was not ashamed to eat their
+relief."
+
+Qualities have their defects, and such a frame of mind as that can
+lead, for all the good motive, to injustice and even cruelty. Christ's
+lesson of the Roman coin is forgotten as quickly as any. Louis'
+passion for holiness, which became a kind of self-indulgence, led him
+into a hard and ugly intolerance and acts of severe oppression against
+those whom he styled heretics. His short way with the Jews recalled
+indeed those of our own King John, who was very nearly his
+contemporary. I know not if he pulled out their teeth, but he once did
+what must have been as bad, if not worse, for he published an
+ordinance "for the good of his soul," remitting to his Christian
+subjects the third of their debts to the Jews; and he also expressed
+it as his opinion that "a layman ought not to dispute with an
+unbeliever, but strike him with a good sword across the body," the
+most practical expression of muscular sectarianism that I know. Louis'
+religious fanaticism was, however, his end; for he was so ill-advised
+as to undertake a new Crusade against the unbelievers of Morocco, and
+there, while laying siege to Tunis, he died of the plague. That was
+in 1270, when he was only fifty-five.
+
+  [Illustration: NOTRE DAME: SOUTH FAÇADE
+    (FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)
+    STE. CHAPELLE]
+
+Twenty-seven years later Pope Boniface the Eighth raised him to the
+Calendar of Saints, his day being August 25th. But according to _The
+Golden Legend_, which I for one implicitly believe (how can one help
+it, written as it is?), the posthumous miracles of Louis did not wait
+for Rome. They began at once. "On that day that S. Louis was buried,"
+we there read, "a woman of the diocese of Sens recovered her sight,
+which she had lost and saw nothing, by the merits and prayers of the
+said debonair and meedful king. Not long after, a young child of
+Burgundy both dumb and deaf of kind, coming with others to the
+sepulchre or grave of the saint, beseeching him of help, kneeling as
+he saw that the others did, and after a little while that he thus
+kneeled were his ears opened and heard, and his tongue redressed and
+spake well. In the same year a woman blind was led to the said
+sepulchre, and by the merits of the saint recovered her sight. Also
+that same year two men and five women, beseeching S. Louis of help,
+recovered the use of going, which they had lost by divers sickness and
+languors.
+
+"In the year that S. Louis was put or written in the catalogue of the
+holy confessors, many miracles worthy to be prized befell in divers
+parts of the world at the invocation of him, by his merits and by his
+prayers. Another time at Evreux a child fell under the wheel of a
+water-mill. Great multitude of people came thither, and supposing to
+have kept him from drowning, invoked God, our Lady and his saints to
+help the said child, but our Lord willing his saint to be enhanced
+among so great multitude of people, was there heard a voice saying
+that the said child, named John, should be vowed unto S. Louis. He
+then, taken out of the water, was by his mother borne to the grave of
+the saint, and after her prayer done to S. Louis, her son began to
+sigh and was raised on life."
+
+We leave the island by the Pont Sully, first looking at the statue of
+Barye, the sculptor of Barbizon, many of whose best small bronzes are
+in the Louvre (to say nothing of the shops of the dealers in the Rue
+Laffitte) and several of his large groups in the public gardens of
+Paris, one, for example, being near the Orangery in the Tuileries.
+Barye's monument standing here at the east end of the Ile St. Louis
+balances Henri IV. at the west end of the Ile de la Cité.
+
+Crossing to the mainland we ought to look at the old houses on the
+Quai des Célestins, particularly the old Hôtel de la Valette, now the
+Collège Massillon, into whose courtyard one should boldly peep. At No.
+32 we touch very interesting history, for here stood, two and a half
+centuries ago, Molière's Illustre Théâtre, the stage entrance to which
+may be seen at 15 Rue de l'Ave Marie.
+
+And now for the Marais.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE MARAIS
+
+     A £32,000,000 Rebuilding Scheme--Romance and Intrigue--The
+     Temple--The Archives--Illustrious Handwriting--The "Uncle"
+     of Paris--The Wall of Philip Augustus--Old Palaces now
+     Rookeries--The Carnavalet--The Perfect
+     Museum--Latude--Napoleon--Madame de Sévigné--Chained
+     Streets--John Law--The Rue St. Martin.
+
+
+The Marais is that district of old streets and palaces which is
+bounded on the south by the Rue St. Antoine, on the east by the Rue du
+Turenne, on the west by the Rue du Temple, and fades away in the north
+somewhere below the Rue de Bretagne. The Rue des Francs Bourgeois is
+its central highway east and west.
+
+It was my original intention to devote a large proportion of this book
+to this fascinating area--to describe it minutely street by
+street--and I have notes for that purpose which would fill half the
+volume alone. But the publication of the £32,000,000 scheme for
+renovating this and other of the older parts of Paris (one of the
+principal points in which is the isolation of the Musée Carnavalet,
+which is the heart of the Marais), coming just at that time, acted
+like a douche of iced water, and I abandoned the project. Instead
+therefore I merely say enough (I hope) to impress on every reader the
+desirability, the necessity, of hastening to the Rue des Francs
+Bourgeois and its dependencies, and refer them to the two French
+writers whom I have found most useful in my own researches--the
+Marquis de Rochegude, author of a _Guide Pratique à travers le Vieux
+Paris_ (Hachette) and the Vicomte de Villebresme, author of _Ce que
+reste du Vieux Paris_ (Flammarion). To these I would add M. Georges
+Cain, the director of the Carnavalet, to whom I refer later.
+
+No matter where one enters the Marais, it offers the same alluring
+prospect of narrow streets and high and ancient houses, once the abode
+of the nobility and aristocracy, but now rookeries and factories--and,
+over all, that sense of thorough insanitation which so often
+accompanies architectural charm in France and Italy, and which seems
+to matter so little to Latin people. Hence the additional wickedness
+of destroying this district. The Municipality, however, having
+acquired superfine foreign notions as to public health, will doubtless
+have its way.
+
+Wherever one enters the Marais one finds the traces of splendour,
+intrigue and romance; howsoever modern conditions may have robbed them
+of their glory, to walk in these streets is, for any one with any
+imagination, to recreate Dumas. For the most part one must make one's
+own researches, but here and there a tablet may be found, such as that
+over the entrance to a narrow and sinister passage at No. 38 Rue des
+Francs Bourgeois, which reads thus: "Dans ce passage en sortant de
+l'hôtel Barbette le Duc Louis d'Orléans frère du Roi Charles VI. fut
+assassiné par Jean Sans Peur, Duc de Bourgogne, dans la nuit du 23 ou
+24 Novembre, 1407". Five hundred years ago! That gives an idea of the
+antiseptic properties of the air of Paris. The Duke of Orléans, I
+might remark here, was symmetrically avenged, for his son assassinated
+Jean Sans Peur on the bridge of Montereau all in due course.
+
+The Marais was at its prime from the middle of the fifteenth century
+to the beginning of the eighteenth; at which period the Faubourg St.
+Antoine was abandoned by fashion for the Faubourg St. Germain, as we
+shall see when the time comes to wander in the Rue de Varenne and the
+Rue de Grenelle on the other side of the river.
+
+Let us enter the Marais by the Rue du Temple at the Square du Temple,
+a little south of the Place de la République. One must make a
+beginning somewhere. The Temple, which has now disappeared, was the
+head-quarters of the Knight Templars of France before their
+suppression in 1307: it then became the property of the Order of St.
+John of Jerusalem, who held it until the Revolution, when all property
+seems to have changed hands. Rousseau found sanctuary here in 1765;
+and here Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were imprisoned for a while
+in 1792. More tragic by far, it was here that the little Dauphin died.
+Napoleon pulled down the Tower: Louis XVIII. on his accession awarded
+the property to the Princesse de Condé, and Louis-Philippe, on his,
+took it back again.
+
+The Rue du Temple has many interesting old houses and associations.
+Just north of the Square is the church of Elizabeth of Hungary, the
+first stone of which was laid in 1628 by a less sainted monarch, Marie
+de Médicis. It is worth entering to see its carved wood scenes from
+Scripture history. At 193 once lived Madame du Barry; at 153 was, in
+the reign of Louis XV., the barreau des vinaigrettes--the vinaigrette
+being the forerunner of the cab, a kind of sedan chair and
+jinrickshaw; at 62 died Anne de Montmorency, Constable of France, in
+the Hôtel de Montmorency.
+
+  [Illustration: L'HOMME AU GANT
+    TITIAN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+From the Square du Temple we may also walk down the Rue des Archives,
+parallel with the Rue du Temple on the east. This street now extends
+to the Rue de Rivoli. It is rich in old palaces, some with very
+beautiful relics of their grandeur still in existence, such as the
+staircase at No. 78. The fountain at the corner of the Rue des
+Haudriettes dates only from 1705. At No. 58 is the gateway, restored,
+of the old palace of the Constable de Clisson, built in 1371. Later it
+belonged to the Guise family and then to the Soubise. The Revolution
+made it the property of the State, and Napoleon directed that the
+Archives should be preserved here. The entrance is in the Rue des
+Francs Bourgeois, across the green court; but do not go on a cold day,
+because there is no heating process, owing to the age of the
+building and the extraordinary value of the collections. The rooms in
+themselves are of some interest for their Louis XV. decoration and
+mural paintings, but one goes of course primarily to see the
+handwriting of the great. Here is the Edict of Nantes signed by Henri
+IV.; a quittance signed by Diana de Poictiers, very boldly; a letter
+to Parliament from Louis XI., in his atrocious hand; a codicil added
+by Saint Louis to his will on board a vessel on the coast of Sardinia,
+exquisitely written. The scriveners have rather gone off than improved
+since those days; look at the "Registre des enquêteurs royaux en
+Normandie," 1248, for a work of delicate minuteness. Marie Thérèse,
+wife of Louis XIV., wrote an attractive hand, but Louis XIV.'s own
+signature is dull. Voltaire is discovered to have written very like
+Swinburne.
+
+Relics of the Revolution abound. Here is Marie Antoinette's last
+letter to the Princess Elizabeth, written the night before she was
+executed; a letter of Pétion, bidding his wife farewell, and of
+Barbaroux to his mother, both stained with tears. Here also is the
+journal of Louis XVI., 1766-1792, and the order for his inhumation (as
+Louis Capet), 21st January, 1793. His will is here too; and so is
+Napoleon's. I say no more because the collection is so vast, and also
+because a franc buys a most admirable catalogue, with facsimiles,
+beginning with the monogram of Charlemagne himself.
+
+On leaving the Archives we may take an easterly course along the Rue
+des Francs Bourgeois, with the idea of making eventually for the
+Carnavalet; but it is well to loiter, for this is the very heart of
+the Marais. One's feet will always be straying down byways that call
+for closer notice, and it is very likely that the Carnavalet will not
+be reached till to-morrow after all. Indeed, let "Hasta mañana" be
+your Marais motto.
+
+One of the first buildings that one notices is the Mont de Piété, the
+chief of the Paris pawnbroking establishments. I am told that the
+system is an admirable one; but my own experience is against this
+opinion, for I was unable on a day of unexpected stress at the end of
+1907 to effect an entrance at the very reasonable hour of a quarter
+past five. The closing of the English pawnbrokers at seven--the very
+moment at which the ordinary man's financial troubles begin--is
+sufficiently uncivilised; but to cease to lend money on excellent gold
+watches at five o'clock in the afternoon (with the bank closed on the
+morrow, too, being New Year's Day) is a scandal. My adventures in
+search of relief among French tradesmen who had been at my feet as
+recently as yesterday, before supplies had broken down, I shall never
+forget, nor shall I relate them here. This aims at being an agreeable
+book.
+
+It is interesting to note that one of the entrances to the Mont de
+Piété is reserved for clients who wish to raise money on deeds, and I
+have seen cabmen very busy in bringing to it people who quite
+shamelessly hold their papers in their hands. And why on earth not?
+And yet your English pawner seldom reaches the Three Brass Balls with
+such publicity or by any other medium than his poor feet. Our Mont de
+Piété for the respectable is the solicitor's office. A trace of the
+wall, and one of its towers, built around Paris by Philip Augustus in
+the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, may be seen in the courtyard of
+the Mont de Piété; but the wall is better observed in the Rue des
+Guillemites, at No. 14.
+
+All about here once stood a large convent of the Blancs-Manteaux, or
+Servants of the Virgin Mary, an order which came into being in
+Florence in the thirteenth century and of whom the doctor Benazzi was
+the general. After the Blancs-Manteaux came the Hermits of St.
+Guillaume, or Guillemites, and later the Benedictines took it over.
+Next the Mont de Piété at the back is the church of the
+Blancs-Manteaux in its modern form. It is plain and unattractive, but
+it wears an air of some purpose, and one feels that it is much used in
+this very popular and not too happy quarter. Just opposite, in a
+doorway, I watched an old chiffonnière playing with a grey rabbit.
+Every inch of this neighbourhood offers priceless material to the hand
+of Mr. Muirhead Bone.
+
+One of the old tavern signs of Paris is to be seen close by, at the
+corner of the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux and the Rue des Archives: a
+soldier standing by a cannon, representing l'homme armé. It is a
+comfortable little retreat and should be encouraged for such
+antiquarian piety.
+
+The pretty turret at the corner of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois and
+the Rue Vieille du Temple marks the site of the hôtel of Jean de la
+Balue. Turning to the left up the Rue Vieille du Temple we come at No.
+87 to a very beautiful ancient mansion, with a spacious courtyard,
+built in 1712 for the Cardinal de Rohan. It is now the national
+printing works: hence the statue of Gutenberg in the midst. Visitors
+are allowed to see the house itself once a week, but I have not done
+so. You will probably not be interfered with if you just step to the
+inside of the second courtyard to see the bas-relief of the steeds of
+Apollo. Nos. 102 to 108 in the same street mark the remains of another
+fine eighteenth-century hôtel. There is also a house which one should
+see in the lower part of the street, on the south side of the Francs
+Bourgeois--No. 47, where by penetrating boldly one comes to a perfect
+little courtyard with some beautiful carvings in it, and, above, a
+green garden, tended, when I was there, by a Little Sister of the
+Poor. The principal courtyard has a very interesting bas-relief of
+Romulus and Remus at their usual meal, and also an old sundial. This
+palace was built in 1638.
+
+Returning to the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, we find at No. 38 the
+little impasse already referred to, where the Duc d'Orléans was
+assassinated. At No. 30 is a very impressive red-brick palace with a
+courtyard, now a nest of offices and factories, once the hôtel of Jean
+de Fourcy. A bust of Henri IV. has a place there. At No. 25 on the
+other side (seen better from the Rue Pavée) is an even more splendid
+abode--now also cut up into a rookery--the Hôtel de Lamoignon, once
+Hôtel d'Angoulême, built for Diane, Duchess of Angoulême, daughter of
+Henri II.: hence the symbols of the chase in the ornamentation. The
+hotel passed to President de Lamoignon in 1655.
+
+And here is the Carnavalet--the spacious building, with a garden and
+modern additions, on the left--once the Hôtel des Ligneries,
+afterwards the Hôtel de Kernevenoy, afterwards the Hôtel de Sévigné,
+and now the museum of the city of Paris. The only way to understand
+Paris is to make repeated visits to this treasure-house. You will find
+new entertainment and instruction every time, because every time you
+will carry thither impressions of new objects of interest whose past
+you will want to explore. For in the Carnavalet every phase of the
+life of the city, from the days of the Romans and the Merovingians to
+our own, is illustrated in one way or another. The pictures of streets
+alone are inexhaustible: the streets that one knows to-day as they
+were yesterday and the day before yesterday and hundreds of years ago;
+the streets one has just walked through on the way here, in their
+stages of evolution: such, for example, as the picture of the wooden
+Pont des Meuniers in 1380 with the Tour Saint-Jacques behind it; the
+streets with dramas of the Revolution in progress, such as the picture
+of the emblems of Royalty being burned before the statue of Liberty
+(where the Luxor column now stands) in the Place de la Concorde on
+August 10th, 1793; such as the picture of the famous "serment" being
+taken in the court of the Jeu de Paume on June 20th, 1789; such as the
+picture of the funeral of Marat. For the perfection of topographical
+drawing look at the series by F. Hoffbauer. But it is impossible and
+needless to particularise. The visitor with a topographical or
+historical bent will find himself in a paradise and will return and
+return. One visit is ridiculous.
+
+The catalogue, I may say, is not good, therein falling into line with
+the sculpture catalogue at the Louvre. Everything may be in it, but
+the arrangement is poor. In such a museum every article and every
+picture should of course have a description attached, if only for the
+benefit of the poor visitor, the humblest citizen of Paris whose
+museum it is.
+
+There are a few works of art here too, as well as topographical
+drawings. Georges Michel, for example, who looked on landscape much as
+Méryon looked on architecture and preferred a threatening sky to a
+sunny one, has a prospect from the Plaine St. Denis. Vollon paints the
+Moulin de la Galette on Montmartre as it was in 1865; Troyon spreads
+out St. Cloud. Here also are a charming portrait by Chardin of his
+second wife; the well-known picture of David's Life School; drawings
+by Watteau; an adorable unsigned "Marchand de Lingerie"; an enchanting
+leg on a blue pillow by Boucher; a portrait by Prud'hon of an
+unknown man, very striking; and some exquisite work by Louis Boilly.
+
+  [Illustration: PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME
+    ATTRIBUTED TO BIGIO
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Musée is strong in Henri IV. and the later Louis, but it is of
+course in relics of the Revolution and Napoleon that the interest
+centres. A casquette of Liberty; the handle of Marat's bathroom; a
+portrait of "La Veuve Capet" in the Conciergerie, in the room that we
+have seen; a painted life-mask of Voltaire, very horrible, and the
+armchair in which he died; a copy of the constitution of 1793 bound in
+the skin of a man; Marat's snuff-box; Madame Roland as a sweet and
+happy child,--these I remember in particular.
+
+Latude is, however, the popular figure--Latude the prisoner of the
+Bastille who escaped by means of implements which he made secretly and
+which are now preserved here, near a portrait of the enfranchised
+gentleman, robust, portly and triumphant, pointing with one hand to
+his late prison while the other grasps the rope ladder. Latude's
+history is an odd one. He was born in 1725, the natural son of a poor
+girl: after accompanying the army in Languedoc as a surgeon, or
+surgeon's assistant, he reached Paris in 1748 and proceeded to starve.
+In despair he hit upon an ingenious trick, which wanted nothing but
+success to have made him. He prepared an infernal machine of
+infinitesimal aptitude--a contrivance of practically harmless but
+perhaps somewhat alarming explosives--and this he sent anonymously to
+the Marquise de Pompadour, and then immediately after waited upon her
+in person at Versailles to say that he had overheard some men plotting
+to destroy her by means of this kind of a bomb, and he had come
+post-haste to warn her and save her life. It was a good story, but
+Latude seems to have lacked some necessary gifts as an impostor, for
+his own share was detected and he was thrown into the Bastille on the
+1st of May, 1749. A few weeks later he was transferred to the prison
+at Vincennes, from which he escaped in 1750. A month later he was
+retaken and again placed in the Bastille, from which he escaped six
+years later. He got away to Holland, but was quickly recaptured; and
+then again he escaped, after nine more years. He was then treated as a
+lunatic and put into confinement at Charenton, but was discharged in
+1777. His liberty, however, seems to have been of little use to him,
+and he rapidly qualified for gaol again by breaking into a house and
+threatening its owner, a woman, with a pistol, and he was imprisoned
+once more. Altogether he was under lock and key for the greater part
+of thirty-five years; but once he was free in 1784 he kept his head,
+and not only remained free but became a popular hero, and did not a
+little, by reason of a heightened account of his sufferings under
+despotic prison rule, to inflame the revolutionaries. These memoirs,
+by the way, in the preparation of which he was assisted by an advocate
+named Thiery, were for the most part untruthful, and not least so in
+those passages in which Latude described his own innocence and
+ideals. Our own canonised prison-breaker, Jack Sheppard, was a better
+hero than this man.
+
+The little room devoted to Napoleon is filled with an intimate
+melancholy. Many personal relics are here--even to a toothbrush dipped
+in a red powder. His nécessaires de campagne so compactly arranged
+illustrate the minute orderliness of his mind, and the workmanship of
+the travelling cases that hold them proves once again his thoroughness
+and taste. Everything had to be right. One of his maps of la campagne
+de Prusse is here; others we shall see at the Invalides.
+
+The relics of Madame de Sévigné, who once lived in this beautiful
+house, are not very numerous; but they exercise their spell. Her salon
+is very much as she left it, except that the private staircase has
+disappeared and a china closet takes its place. Within these walls
+have La Rochefoucauld and Bossuet conversed; here she sat, pen in
+hand, writing her immortal letters. "Lisons tout Madame de Sévigné"
+was the advice of Sainte-Beuve, while her most illustrious English
+admirer, Edward FitzGerald, often quotes her. He came to her late, not
+till 1875, but she never loosened her hold. "I have this Summer," he
+wrote to Mrs. W. H. Thompson, "made the Acquaintance of a great Lady,
+with whom I have become perfectly intimate, through her Letters,
+Madame de Sévigné. I had hitherto kept aloof from her, because of that
+eternal Daughter of hers; but 'it's all Truth and Daylight,' as Kitty
+Clive said of Mrs. Siddons. Her Letters from Brittany are best of all,
+not those from Paris, for she loved the Country, dear Creature; and
+now I want to go and visit her 'Rochers,' but never shall." "I
+sometimes lament," he says (to Mrs. Cowell), "I did not know her
+before; but perhaps such an acquaintance comes in best to cheer one
+toward the end." With these pleasant praises in our ears let us leave
+the Carnavalet.
+
+The Rue de Sévigné itself has many interesting houses, notably on the
+south side of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois; No. 11, for example, was
+once a theatre, built by Beaumarchais in 1790. That is nothing; the
+interesting thing is that he built it of material from the destroyed
+Bastille and the destroyed church of St. Paul. The fire station close
+by was once the Hôtel de Perron de Quincy. It was in this street, on
+the day of the Fête Dieu in 1392, that the Constable de Clisson, whose
+house we saw in the Rue des Archives, was attacked by Pierre de Craon.
+
+The Rue des Francs Bourgeois is the highway of the Marais, and the
+Carnavalet is its greatest possession; but, as I have said, the Marais
+is inexhaustible in architectural and historical riches. We may work
+our way through it, back to the Rue du Temple by any of these ancient
+streets; all will repay. The Rue du Temple extends to the Rue de
+Rivoli, striking it just by the Hôtel de Ville, but the lower portion,
+south of the Rue Rambuteau, is not so interesting as the upper. There
+is, however, to the west of it, just north of the Rue de Rivoli, a
+system of old streets hardly less picturesque (and sometimes even
+more so) than the Marais proper, in the centre of which is the church
+of St. Merry, with one of the most wonderful west fronts anywhere--a
+mass of rich and eccentric decoration. The Saint himself was Abbot of
+Autun. He came to Paris in the seventh century to visit the shrines of
+St. Denis and St. Germain. At that time the district which we are now
+traversing was chiefly forest, in which the kings of France would
+hunt, leaving their palace in the Ile de la Cité and crossing the
+river to this wild district--wild though so near. St. Merry
+established himself in his simple way near a little chapel in the
+woods, dedicated to St. Peter, that stood on this spot, and there he
+died. After his death his tomb in the chapel performed such miracles
+that St. Peter was forgotten and St. Merry was exalted, and when the
+time came to rebuild, St. Merry ousted St. Peter altogether.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L'ETOILE
+    (APPROACHING FROM THE AVENUE DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE)]
+
+St. Merry's florid west front is in the Rue St. Martin, once the Roman
+road from Paris to the north and to England, and by the Rue St. Martin
+we may leave this district; but between it and the Rue du Temple there
+is much to see--such as, for example, the Rue Verrerie, south of St.
+Merry's, the head-quarters of the ancient glassworkers; the Rue
+Brisemiche, quite one of the best of the old narrow Paris streets,
+with iron staples and hooks still in the walls at Nos. 20, 23, 26 and
+29, to which chains could be fastened so as to turn a street into an
+impasse during times of stress and thus be sure of your man; the Rue
+Taillepin, also leading out of the Rue du Cloître St. Merry into the
+Rue St. Merri, which has some fine old houses of its own, notably No.
+36 and the quaint Impasse du Boeuf at No. 10.
+
+Parallel with the Rue St. Merry farther north is the Rue de Venise,
+which the Vicomte de Villebresme boldly calls the most picturesque in
+old Paris. Now a very low quarter, it was once literally the Lombard
+Street of Paris, the chief abode of Lombardy moneylenders, while the
+long and beautiful Rue Quincampoix, into which it runs on the west,
+was also a financial centre, containing no less an establishment than
+the famous Banque of John Law, the Scotchman who for a while early in
+the eighteenth century controlled French finance. When Law had matured
+his Mississippi scheme, he made the Rue Quincampoix his head-quarters,
+and houses in it, we read, that had been let for £40 a year now
+yielded £800 a month. In the winter of 1719-20 Paris was filled with
+speculators besieging Law's offices for shares. But by May the crash
+had come and Law had to fly. Many a house in the Rue Quincampoix,
+which is now sufficiently innocent of high finance, dates from the
+fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There is a fine doorway at No. 34.
+
+We may regain the Rue St. Martin, just to the east, by the Rue des
+Lombards, which brings us to the flamboyant front of St. Merry's once
+more. The Rue St. Martin, which confesses its Roman origin in its
+straightness, is still busy with traffic, but neither itself nor the
+Rue St. Denis, two or three hundred yards to the west, is one-tenth
+as busy as it was before the Boulevard Sebastopol was cut between them
+to do all the real work. It is a fine thoroughfare and no doubt of the
+highest use, but what beautiful narrow streets of old houses it must
+have destroyed! We may note in the Rue St. Martin the pretty fountain
+at No. 122, and the curious old house at No. 164, and leave it at the
+church of St. Nicholas-des-Champs, no longer in the fields any more
+than London's St. Martin's is.
+
+And now after so many houses let us see some pictures!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS
+
+     The Winged Victory of Samothrace--Botticelli's
+     Fresco--Luini--Ingres--The Salon Carré--La Joconde--Leonardo
+     da Vinci--Pater, Lowell and Vasari--Early Collectors--Paul
+     Veronese--Copyists--The Salle des Primitifs--The Grande
+     Galerie--Landor's Pictorial Creed--The Great
+     Schools--Rembrandt--Van Dyck and Rubens--Amazing
+     Abundance--The Dutch Masters--The Drawings.
+
+
+It is on the first landing of the Escalier Daru, at the end of the
+Galerie Denon, that one of the most priceless treasures of the
+Louvre--one of the most splendid things in the world--is to be found:
+it has been before us all the way along the Galerie Denon, that avenue
+of noble bronzes, the first thing that caught the eye: I mean the
+"Winged Victory of Samothrace". Every one has seen photographs or
+models of this majestic and exquisite figure, but it must be studied
+here if one is to form a true estimate of the magical mastery of the
+sculptor. The Victory is headless and armless and much mutilated; but
+that matters little. She stands on the prow of a trireme, and for
+every one who sees her with any imagination must for all time be the
+symbol of triumphant and splendid onset. The figure no doubt weighs
+more than a ton--and is as light as air. The "Meteor" in a strong
+breeze with all her sails set and her prow foaming through the waves
+does not convey a more exciting idea of commanding and buoyant
+progress. But that comparison wholly omits the element of
+conquest--for this is essential Victory as well.
+
+The statue dates from the fourth century B.C. It was not discovered
+until 1863, in Samothrace. Paris is fortunate indeed to possess not
+only the Venus of Milo but this wonder of art--both in the same
+building.
+
+Before entering the picture galleries proper, let us look at two other
+exceedingly beautiful things also on this staircase--the two frescoes
+from the Villa Lemmi, but particularly No. 1297 on the left of the
+entrance to Gallery XVI., which represents Giovanna Tornabuoni and the
+Cardinal Virtues, and is by Sandro Filipepi, whom we call Botticelli.
+For this exquisite work alone would I willingly cross the Channel even
+in a gale, such is its charm. A reproduction of it will be found
+opposite page 20, but it gives no impression of the soft delicacy of
+colouring: its gentle pinks and greens and purples, its kindly reds
+and chestnut browns. One should make a point of looking at these
+frescoes whenever one is on the staircase, which will be often.
+
+The ordinary entrance to the picture galleries of the Louvre is
+through the photographic vestibule on the right of the Winged Victory
+as you face it, leading to the Salle Duchâtel, notable for such
+differing works as frescoes by Luini and two pictures by
+Ingres--representing the beginning and end of his long and austere
+career. The Luinis are delightful--very gay and, as always with this
+tender master, sweet--especially "The Nativity," which is reproduced
+opposite page 16. The Ingres' (which were bequeathed by the Comtesse
+Duchâtel after whom the room is named) are the "OEdipus solving the
+riddle of the Sphinx," dated 1808, when the painter was twenty-eight,
+and the "Spring," which some consider his masterpiece, painted in
+1856. He lived to be eighty-six. English people have so few
+opportunities of seeing the work of this master (we have in oils only
+a little doubtful portrait of Malibran, very recently acquired, which
+hangs in the National Gallery) that he comes as a totally new
+craftsman to most of us; and his severity may not always please. But
+as a draughtsman he almost takes the breath away, and no one should
+miss the pencil heads, particularly a little saucy lady, from his hand
+in the His de la Salle collection of drawings in another part of the
+Louvre.
+
+In the Salle Duchâtel is also a screen of drawings with a very
+beautiful head by Botticelli in it--No. 48. From the rooms we then
+pass to the Salon Carré (so called because it is square, and not, as I
+heard one American explaining to another, after the celebrated
+collector Carré who had left these pictures to the nation), and this
+is, I suppose, for its size, the most valuable gallery in the world.
+It is doubtful if any other combination of collections, each
+contributing of its choicest, could compile as remarkable a room, for
+the "Monna Lisa," or "La Joconde," Leonardo da Vinci's portrait of the
+wife of his friend Francesco del Giocondo, which is its greatest glory
+and perhaps the greatest glory of all Paris too, would necessarily be
+missing.
+
+  [Illustration: THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+Paris without this picture would not be the Paris that we know, or the
+Paris that has been since 1793 when "La Joconde" first became the
+nation's property--ever more to smile her inscrutable smile and exert
+her quiet mysterious sway, not only for kings and courtiers but for
+all. When all is said, it is Leonardo who gives the Louvre its special
+distinction as a picture gallery. Without him it would still be
+magnificent: with him it is priceless and sublime. For not only are
+there the "Monna Lisa" and (also in the Salon Carré) the sweet and
+beautiful "Madonna and Saint Anne," but in the next, the Grande
+Galerie, are his "Virgin of the Rocks," a variant of the only Leonardo
+in our National Gallery, and the "Bacchus" (so like the "John the
+Baptist") and the "John the Baptist" (so like the "Bacchus") and the
+portrait of the demure yet mischievous Italian lady who is supposed to
+be Lucrezia Crivelli, and who (in spite of the yellowing ravages of
+time) once seen is never forgotten.
+
+The Louvre has all these (together with many drawings), but above all
+it has the Monna Lisa, of which what shall I say? I feel that I can
+say nothing. But here are two descriptions of the picture, or rather
+two descriptions of the emotions produced by the picture on two very
+different minds. These I may quote as expressing, between them, all. I
+will begin with that of Walter Pater: "As we have seen him using
+incidents of sacred story, not for their own sake, or as mere subjects
+for pictorial realisation, but as a cryptic language for fancies all
+his own, so now he found a vent for his thought in taking one of these
+languid women, and raising her, as Leda or Pomona, as Modesty or
+Vanity, to the seventh heaven of symbolical expression.
+
+"_La Gioconda_ is, in the truest sense, Leonardo's masterpiece, the
+revealing instance of his mode of thought and work. In suggestiveness,
+only the _Melancholia_ of Dürer is comparable to it; and no crude
+symbolism disturbs the effect of its subdued and graceful mystery. We
+all know the face and hands of the figure, set in its marble chair, in
+that circle of fantastic rocks, as in some faint light under sea.
+Perhaps of all ancient pictures time has chilled it least.[1] As often
+happens with works in which invention seems to reach its limit, there
+is an element in it given to, not invented by, the master. In that
+inestimable folio of drawings, once in the possession of Vasari, were
+certain designs by Verrocchio, faces of such impressive beauty that
+Leonardo in his boyhood copied them many times. It is hard not to
+connect with these designs of the elder, by-past master, as with its
+germinal principle, the unfathomable smile, always with a touch of
+something sinister on it, which plays over all Leonardo's work.
+Besides, the picture is a portrait. From childhood we see this image
+defining itself on the fabric of his dreams; and but for express
+historical testimony, we might fancy that this was but his ideal lady,
+embodied and beheld at last. What was the relationship of a living
+Florentine to this creature of his thought? By what strange affinities
+had the dream and the person grown up thus apart, and yet so closely
+together? Present from the first incorporeally in Leonardo's brain,
+dimly traced in the designs of Verrocchio, she is found present at
+last in _Il Giocondo's_ house. That there is much of mere portraiture
+in the picture is attested by the legend that by artificial means, the
+presence of mimes and flute-players, that subtle expression was
+protracted on the face. Again, was it in four years and by renewed
+labour never really completed, or in four months and as by stroke of
+magic, that the image was projected?
+
+"The presence that rose thus so strangely beside the waters, is
+expressive of what in the ways of a thousand years men had come to
+desire. Hers is the head upon which all 'the ends of the world are
+come,' and the eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out
+from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of
+strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions. Set it
+for a moment beside one of those white Greek Goddesses or beautiful
+women of antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this beauty,
+into which the soul with all its maladies has passed! All the thoughts
+and experience of the world have etched and moulded there, in that
+which they have of power to refine and make expressive the outward
+form, the animalism of Greece, the lust of Rome, the mysticism of the
+middle age with its spiritual ambition and imaginative loves, the
+return of the Pagan world, the sins of the Borgias. She is older than
+the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead
+many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver
+in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for
+strange webs with Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of
+Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this
+has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only
+in the delicacy with which it has moulded the changing lineaments, and
+tinged the eyelids and the hands. The fancy of a perpetual life,
+sweeping together ten thousand experiences, is an old one; and modern
+philosophy has conceived the idea of humanity as wrought upon by, and
+summing up in itself, all modes of thought and life. Certainly Lady
+Lisa might stand as the embodiment of the old fancy, the symbol of the
+modern idea."
+
+  [1] Yet for Vasari there was further magic of crimson in the
+      lips and cheeks, lost for us. _Pater's note._
+
+This was what the picture meant for Pater; whether too much, is beside
+the mark. Pater thought it and Pater wrote it, and that is enough. To
+others, who are not as Pater, it says less, and possibly more. This,
+for example, is what "Monna Lisa" suggested to one of the most
+distinguished and civilised minds of our time--James Russell Lowell:--
+
+     She gave me all that woman can,
+     Nor her soul's nunnery forego,
+     A confidence that man to man
+     Without remorse can never show.
+
+     Rare art, that can the sense refine
+     Till not a pulse rebellious stirs,
+     And, since she never can be mine,
+     Makes it seem sweeter to be hers!
+
+Finally, since we cannot (I believe) spend too much time upon this
+picture, let me quote Vasari's account of it. "For Francesco del
+Giocondo, Leonardo undertook to paint the portrait of Monna Lisa, his
+wife, but, after loitering over it for four years, he finally left it
+unfinished. This work is now in the possession of the King Francis of
+France, and is at Fontainebleau. Whoever shall desire to see how far
+art can imitate nature may do so to perfection in this head, wherein
+every peculiarity that could be depicted by the utmost subtlety of the
+pencil has been faithfully reproduced. The eyes have the lustrous
+brightness and moisture which is seen in life, and around them are
+those pale, red, and slightly livid circles, also proper to nature,
+with the lashes, which can only be copied, as these are, with the
+greatest difficulty; the eyebrows also are represented with the
+closest exactitude, where fuller and where more thinly set, with the
+separate hairs delineated as they issue from the skin, every turn
+being followed, and all the pores exhibited in a manner that could
+not be more natural than it is: the nose, with its beautiful and
+delicately roseate nostrils, might be easily believed to be alive; the
+mouth, admirable in its outline, has the lips uniting the rose-tints
+of their colour with that of the face, in the utmost perfection, and
+the carnation of the cheek does not appear to be painted, but truly of
+flesh and blood; he who looks earnestly at the pit of the throat
+cannot but believe that he sees the beating of the pulses, and it may
+be truly said that this work is painted in a manner well calculated to
+make the boldest master tremble, and astonishes all who behold it,
+however well accustomed to the marvels of art.
+
+"Monna Lisa was exceedingly beautiful, and while Leonardo was painting
+her portrait, he took the precaution of keeping some one constantly
+near her, to sing or play on instruments, or to jest and otherwise
+amuse her, to the end that she might continue cheerful, and so that
+her face might not exhibit the melancholy expression often imparted by
+painters to the likenesses they take. In this portrait of Leonardo's,
+on the contrary, there is so pleasing an expression, and a smile so
+sweet, that while looking at it one thinks it rather divine than
+human, and it has ever been esteemed a wonderful work, since life
+itself could exhibit no other appearance."
+
+  [Illustration: LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+King Francis I. (who met our Henry VIII. on the Field of the Cloth of
+Gold) bought the picture of Monna Lisa from the artist for a sum of
+money equal now to £20,000. It was on a visit to Francis that
+Leonardo died. "Monna Lisa" was the most valuable picture in the
+cabinet of Francis I. and was first hung there in 1545. It is very
+interesting to think that this work, the peculiar glory of the
+Gallery, should also be its nucleus, so to speak. The Venus of Milo
+and the Winged Victory, which I have grouped with "Monna Lisa" as its
+chief treasures, were not added until the last century.
+
+Among other pictures in the Louvre which date from the inception of a
+royal collection in the brain of Francis I. are the "Virgin of the
+Rocks" by Leonardo, Raphael's "Sainte Famille" (No. 1498) and "Saint
+Michael," Andrea del Sarto's "Charité" and Piombo's "Visitation".
+Louis XIII. began his reign with about fifty pictures and increased
+them to two hundred, while under Louis XIV., the Louvre's most
+conspicuous friend, the royal collection grew from these two hundred
+to two thousand--assisted greatly by Colbert the financier, who bought
+for the Crown not only much of the collection of the banker Jabach of
+Cologne, the Pierpont Morgan of his day, who had acquired the art
+treasures of our own Charles I., but also the Mazarin bibelots. Under
+Louis XIV. and succeeding monarchs the pictures oscillated between the
+Louvre, the Luxembourg and Versailles. The Revolution centralised them
+in the Louvre, and on 8th November, 1793, the collection was made over
+to the public. During the first Republic one hundred thousand francs a
+year were set aside for the purchase of pictures.
+
+But we are in the Salon Carré. Close beside "La Joconde" is that
+Raphael which gives me personally more pleasure than any of his
+pictures--the portrait, beautiful in greys and blacks, of Count
+Baldassare Castiglione, reproduced opposite page 52; here is a
+Correggio (No. 1117) bathed in a glory of light; here is a golden
+Giorgione; here is an allegory by Titian (No. 1589) not so
+miraculously coloured as the Correggio but wonderfully rich and
+beautiful; here is a little princess by Velasquez; and near it a
+haunting portrait of a young man (No. 1644) which has been attributed
+to many hands, but rests now as the work of Francia Bigio. I reproduce
+it opposite page 70. And that is but a fraction of the treasures of
+the Salon Carré. For there are other Titians, notably the portrait
+(No. 1592) of a young man with a glove (reproduced opposite page 64)
+marked by a beautiful gravity; other Raphaels, more characteristic,
+including "La Belle Jardinière" (No. 1496), filled with a rich deep
+calm; the sweetest Luini that I remember (No. 1354), and the immense
+"Marriage at Cana" by Paolo Veronese, which when I saw it recently was
+being laboriously engraved on copper by a gentleman in the middle of
+the room. It was odd to watch so careful a piece of translation in the
+actual making--to see Veronese's vast scene with its rich colouring
+and tremendous energy coming down into spider-like scratches on two
+square feet of hard metal. I did not know that such patience was any
+longer exercised. This picture, by the way, has a double
+interest--the general and the particular. As Whistler said of
+Switzerland, you may both admire the mountain and recognise the
+tourist on the top. It is full of portraits. The bride at the end of
+the table is Eleanor of Austria; at her side is Francis I. (who found
+his way into as many pictures as most men); next to him, in yellow, is
+Mary of England. The Sultan Suliman I. and the Emperor Charles V. are
+not absent. The musicians are the artist and his friends--Paul himself
+playing the 'cello, Tintoretto the piccolo, Titian the bass viol, and
+Bassano the flute. The lady with a toothpick is (alas!) Vittoria
+Colonna.
+
+It is, by the way, always student-day at the Louvre--at least I never
+remember to have been there, except on Sundays, when copyists were not
+at work. Many of the copies are being made to order as altar pieces in
+new churches and for other definite purposes. Not all, however! A
+newspaper paragraph lying before me states that the authorities of the
+Louvre have five hundred unfinished copies on their hands, abandoned
+by their authors so thoroughly as never to be inquired for again. I am
+not surprised.
+
+From the Salle Carré we enter the Grande Galerie, which begins with
+the Florentine School, and ends, a vast distance away, with Rembrandt.
+But first it is well to turn into the little Salle des Primitifs
+Italiens, a few steps on the right, for here are very rare and
+beautiful things: Botticelli's "Madonna with a child and John the
+Baptist" (No. 1296); Domenico Ghirlandaio's "Portrait of an old man
+and a boy" (No. 1322), which I reproduce opposite page 136, that
+triumph of early realism, and his "Visitation" (No. 1321), with its
+joyful colouring, culminating in a glorious orange gown; Benedetto
+Ghirlandaio's "Christ on the way to Golgotha" (No. 1323, on the
+opposite wall), a fine hard red picture; two little Piero di Cosimos
+(on each side of the door), very mellow and gay--representing scenes
+in the marriage of Thetis and Peleus; Fra Filippo Lippi's "Madonna and
+Child with two sainted abbots" (No. 1344), and the "Nativity" next it
+(No. 1343); a sweet and lovely "Virgin and Child" (No. 1345) of the
+Fra Filippo Lippi school; another, also very beautiful, by Mainardi
+(No. 1367); a canvas of portraits, including Giotto and the painter
+himself, by Paolo Uccello (No. 1272), the very picture described by
+Vasari in the _Lives_; and Giotto's scenes in the life of St. Francis,
+in the frame of which, as we shall see, I once, for historical
+comparison, slipped the photograph of M. Henri Pol, charmeur des
+oiseaux. These I name; but much remains that will appeal even more to
+others.
+
+To walk along the Grande Galerie is practically to traverse the
+history of art: Italian, Spanish, British, German, Flemish and Dutch
+paintings all hang here. Nothing is missing but the French, which,
+however, are very near at hand. Some lines of Landor which always come
+to my mind in a picture gallery I may quote hereabouts with peculiar
+fitness, and also with a desire to transfer the haunting--a very good
+one even if one does not agree with the reference to Rembrandt, which
+I do not:--
+
+     First bring me Raphael, who alone hath seen
+     In all her purity Heaven's Virgin Queen,
+     Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then
+     Titian, ennobler of the noblest men;
+     And next the sweet Correggio, nor chastise
+     His little Cupids for those wicked eyes.
+     I want not Rubens's pink puffy bloom,
+     Nor Rembrandt's glimmer in a dirty room
+     With these, nor Poussin's nymph-frequented woods
+     His templed heights and long-drawn solitudes.
+     I am content, yet fain would look abroad
+     On one warm sunset of Ausonian Claude.
+
+It is no province of this book to take the place of a catalogue; but I
+must mention a few pictures. The left wall is throughout, I may say,
+except in the case of the British pictures, the better. Here, very
+early, is the lovely "Holy Family" of Andrea del Sarto (No. 1515);
+here hang the four Leonardos which I have mentioned and certain of his
+derivatives; a beautiful Andrea Solario (No. 1530); a Lotto, very
+modern in feeling (No. 1350); a very striking "Salome" by Luini
+(1355), and the same painter's "Holy Family" (No. 1353); Mantegna; a
+fine Palma; Bellini; Antonello da Messina; more Titians, including
+"The Madonna with the rabbit" (No. 1578) and "Jupiter and Antiope"
+(No. 1587); a new portrait of a man in armour by Tintoretto, lately
+lent to the Louvre, one of his gravest and greatest; and so on to the
+sweet Umbrians--to Perugino and to Raphael, among whose pictures are
+two or three examples of his gay romantic manner, the most pleasing
+of which (No. 1509), "Apollo and Marsyas," is only conjecturally
+attributed to him.
+
+We pass then to Spain--to Murillo, who is represented here both in his
+rapturous saccharine and his realistic moods, "La Naissance de la
+Vierge" (No. 1710) and "Le Jeune Mendicant" (No. 1717); to Velasquez,
+who, however, is no longer credited with the lively sketch of Spanish
+gentlemen (No. 1734); and to Zurbaran, the strong and merciless.
+
+The British pictures are few but choice, including a very fine
+Raeburn, and landscapes by Constable and Bonington, two painters whom
+the French elevated to the rank of master and influence while we were
+still debating their merits. Such a landscape as "Le Cottage" (No.
+1806) by Constable, with its rich English simplicity, brings one up
+with a kind of start in the midst of so much grandiosity and pomp. It
+is out of place here, and yet one is very happy to see it. From
+Britain we pass to the Flemish and Germans--to perfect Holbeins,
+including an Erasmus and Dürer; to Rubens, who, however, comes later
+in his full force, and to the gross and juicy Jordaens.
+
+Then sublimity again; for here is Rembrandt of the Rhine. After
+Leonardo, Rembrandt is to me the glory of the Louvre, and especially
+the glory of the Grande Galerie, the last section of which is now hung
+with twenty-two of his works. Not one of them is perhaps superlative
+Rembrandt: there is nothing quite so fine as the portrait of
+Elizabeth Bas at the Ryks, or the "School of Anatomy" at the
+Mauritshuis, or the "Unjust Steward" at Hertford House; but how
+wonderful they are! Look at the miracle of the flying angel in the
+picture of Tobias--how real it is and how light! Look closely at the
+two little pictures of the philosopher in meditation. I have chosen
+the beautiful "Venus et L'Amour" and the "Pèlerins d'Emmaus" for
+reproduction; but I might equally have taken others. They will be
+found opposite pages 146 and 154.
+
+On the other wall are a few pictures by Rembrandt's pupils and
+colleagues, such as Ferdinand Bol and Govaert Flinck, who were always
+on the track of the master; and more particularly Gerard Dou: note the
+old woman in his "Lecture de la Bible," for it is Rembrandt's mother,
+and also look carefully at "La Femme Hydropique," one of his most
+miraculously finished works--a Rembrandt through the small end of a
+telescope.
+
+From these we pass to the sumptuous Salle Van Dyck, which in its turn
+leads to the Salle Rubens, and one is again filled with wonder at the
+productivity of the twain--pupil and master. Did he never tire, this
+Peter Paul Rubens? Did a new canvas never deter or abash him? It seems
+not. No sooner was it set up in his studio than at it he must have
+gone like a charge of cavalry, magnificent in his courage, in his
+skill and in his brio. What a record! Has Rubens' square mileage ever
+been worked out, I wonder. He was very like a Frenchman: it is the
+vigour and spirit of Dumas at work with the brush. In the Louvre
+there are fifty-four attested works, besides many drawings; and it
+seems to me that I must have seen as many in Vienna, and as many in
+Dresden, and as many in Berlin, and as many in Antwerp, and as many in
+Brussels, to say nothing of the glorious landscape in Trafalgar
+Square. He is always overpowering; but for me the quieter, gentler
+brushes. None the less the portrait of Helène Fourment and their two
+children, in the Grande Galerie, although far from approaching that
+exquisite picture in the Liechtenstein Gallery in Vienna, when the
+boys were a little older, is a beautiful and living thing which one
+would not willingly miss.
+
+Van Dyck was, of course, more austere, less boisterous and abundant,
+but his record is hardly less amazing, and he seems to have faced
+life-size equestrian groups, such as the Charles the First here,
+without a tremor. The Charles is superb in his distinction and
+disdain; but for me, however, Van Dyck is the painter of single
+portraits, of which, no matter where I go, none seems more noble and
+satisfying than our own Cornelius Van Voorst in Trafalgar Square. But
+the "Dame et sa Fille," which is reproduced on the opposite page, is
+very beautiful.
+
+  [Illustration: UNE DAME ET SA FILLE
+    VAN DYCK
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+All round the Salle Rubens are arranged the little cabinets in which
+the small Dutch pictures hang--the Jan Steens and the Terburgs, the
+Hals' and the Metsus, the Ruisdaels and the Karel du Jardins, the
+Ostades and the golden Poelenburghs. Of these what can I say? There
+they are, in their hundreds, the least of them worth many minutes'
+scrutiny. But a few may be picked out: the Jan van Eyck (No. 1986) "La
+Vierge au Donateur," reproduced opposite page 166, in which the
+Chancellor Rollin reveres the Virgin on the roof of a tower, and small
+wild animals happily play around, and we see in the distance one of
+those little fairy cities so dear to the Flemish painter's
+imagination; David's "Noce de Cana"; Metsu's "Vierge et Enfant" the
+Memling and the Rogier van der Weyden, close by; Franz Hals'
+"Bohémienne," reproduced opposite page 186; Van der Heyden's lovely
+"Plaine de Haarlem" (No. 2382); Paul Potter's "Bois de La Haye" (No.
+2529), almost like a Diaz, and his little masterpiece No. 2526; the
+Terburgs: the "Music Lesson" (No. 2588) and the charming "Reading
+Lesson" (No. 2591) with the little touzled fair-haired boy in it,
+reproduced opposite page 206; Ruisdael's "Paysage dit le Coup de
+Soleil" (No. 2560); Hobbema's "Moulin à eau" (No. 2404); and, to my
+eyes, almost first of all, Vermeer of Delft's "Lacemaker" (No. 2456),
+reproduced opposite page 216. These are all I name.
+
+So much for the paintings by the masters of the world. The Louvre also
+has drawings from the same hands, which hang in their thousands in a
+series of rooms on the first floor, overlooking the Rue de Rivoli.
+Here, as I have said, are other Leonardos (look particularly at No.
+389), and here, too, are drawings by Raphael and Rembrandt, Correggio
+and Rubens (a child's head in particular), Domenico Ghirlandaio and
+Chardin, Mantegna and Watteau, Dürer and Ingres. I reproduce only
+one, a study attributed to the school of Fabriano, opposite page 228.
+Here one may spend a month in daily visits and wish never to break the
+habit. We have in England hardly less valuable and interesting
+drawings, but they are not to be seen in this way. One must visit the
+Print Room of the British Museum and ask for them one by one in
+portfolios. The Louvre, I think, manages it better.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES
+
+     The Early French Painters--Richard Parkes
+     Bonington--Chardin--Historical Paintings--Bonington
+     again--The Moreau Collection--The Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection--The Chauchard Collection.
+
+
+French pictures early and late now await us. On our way down the
+Grande Galerie we passed on the right two entrances to other rooms.
+Taking that one which is nearer the British School, we find ourselves
+in Salle IX., leading to Salle X. and so on to Galerie XVI., which
+completes the series. In Salle X. the beginnings of French art may be
+studied, and in particular the curious Japanese effects of the Ecole
+d'Avignon. Here also is very interesting work by Le Maître de Moulins
+and a remarkable series of drawings in the case in the middle,
+representing the Siege of Troy. Salle XI. is notable for its portraits
+by Clouet and others; in Salle XII. we find Le Sueur, and in Salle
+XIII. the curious brothers Le Nain, of whom there are very interesting
+examples at the Ionides collection at South Kensington, but nothing
+better than the haymaking scene here, No. 542.
+
+French painting of the seventeenth century bursts upon us in the great
+Salle XIV. or Galerie Mollien, of which Nicolas Poussin and Ausonian
+Claude are the giants, thus completing Landor's pleasant list with
+which we entered the Grande Galerie in the last chapter. There are
+wonderful things here, but so crowded are they that I always feel lost
+and confused. There is, however, compensation and relief, for the room
+also contains one minute masterpiece which perhaps not more than five
+out of every thousand visitors have seen, and yet which can be studied
+with perfect quietness and leisure. This is a tiny water-colour in the
+revolving screen in the middle. There is much delicate work in this
+screen, dainty aquatint effects by the Dutchmen Ostade and Van der
+Heyden, Weenix and Borssom, and so forth; but finest of all (as so
+often happens) is a little richly-coloured drawing of Nottingham by
+Bonington, who, as we shall see, has a way of cropping up
+unsuspectedly and graciously in this great collection--and very
+rightly, since he owed so much to that Gallery. He was one of the
+youngest students ever admitted, being allowed to copy there at the
+age of fifteen, while at the Beaux Arts. That was in the year after
+Waterloo. There may in the history of the Gallery have been copyists
+equally young, but there can never have been one more distinguished or
+who had deeper influence on French art. Paris not only made
+Bonington's career but ended it, for it was while sketching in its
+streets ten years or more later that he met with the sunstroke which
+brought about his death when he was only twenty-seven, and stilled the
+marvellous hand for ever.
+
+Salle XV. is given up to portraits, among them--and shall I say chief
+of them, certainly chief of them in point of popularity--the adorable
+portrait of Madame Elizabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun and her daughter,
+painted by herself, which is perhaps the best-known French picture,
+and of which I give a reproduction opposite page 246. On a screen in
+this room are placed the latest acquisitions. When last I was there
+the more noticeable pictures were a portrait by Romney of himself,
+rich and melancholy, recalling to the mind Tennyson's monologue, and a
+sweet and ancient religieuse by Memling. There were also some Corot
+drawings, not perhaps so good as those in the Moreau collection, but
+very beautiful, and a charming old-world lady by Fragonard. These
+probably are by this time distributed over the galleries, and other
+new arrivals have taken their place. I hope so.
+
+Galerie XVI., which leads out of the Salle des Portraits, brings us to
+French art of the eighteenth century--to Greuze and David, to
+Fragonard and Watteau, to Lancret and Boucher, and, to my mind, most
+charming, most pleasure-giving of all, to Jean Baptiste Siméon
+Chardin, who is to be seen in perfection here and in the distant room
+which contains the Collection La Caze. It is probable that no painter
+ever had quite so much charm as this kindly Frenchman, whose loving
+task it was to sweeten and refine homely Dutch art. Chardin is the
+most winsome of all painters: his brush laid a bloom on domestic life.
+The Louvre has twenty-eight of his canvases, mostly still-life,
+distributed between the Salle La Caze and Salle No. XVI., where we now
+are. The most charming of all, which is to be seen in the Salle La
+Caze, is reproduced opposite page 234.
+
+Having walked down the left wall of the Salle, it is well to slip out
+at the door at the end for a moment and refresh oneself with another
+view of Botticelli's fresco, which is just outside, before returning
+by the other wall, as we have to go back through the Salle des
+Portraits in order to examine Salle VIII., a vast room wholly filled
+with French paintings of the first half of the nineteenth century,
+bringing the nation's art to the period more or less at which the
+Luxembourg takes it up, though there is a certain amount of
+overlapping. No room in the Louvre so wants weeding and re-hanging as
+this, for it is a sad jumble. Search, however, for the magnificent
+examples by the great _plein-airistes_. They are lost in this
+wilderness; but there they are for those that seek--the two vast
+Troyons; Corot's magic "Souvenir de Castel-Gondolfon"; a great
+Daubigny, "Les Vendances de Bourgogne," very hard and fine, and the
+same gigantic painter's large and lovely harvest scene, "Le Moisson";
+Rousseau's "Sortie de Forêt," not unlike the Rousseau in the Wallace
+Collection in London, with its natural archway of branches and rich
+tenderness of colour; the sublime "La Vague," by Courbet; lastly
+Millet's "Les Glaneuses," the three stooping women in the cornfield
+who come to the inward eye almost as readily as the figures in the
+"Angelus". The red, blue and yellow of their head-kerchiefs alone
+would make this picture worth a millionaire's ransom.
+
+We leave the room by the door opposite that through which we came and
+find ourselves again in the Grande Galerie. The way now is to the
+left, through the Italian Schools, through the Salon Carré (why not
+stay there and let French art go hang?) through the Galerie d'Apollon
+(of which more anon), through the Rotunda and the Salle des Bijoux
+(whither we shall return), to another crowded late eighteenth and
+early nineteenth century French room chiefly notable for David's
+Madame Récamier on her joyless little sofa. (Why didn't we stay in the
+Salon Carré?) In this room also are two large Napoleonic pictures--one
+by Gros representing General Bonaparte visiting the plague victims at
+Jaffa in 1799; the other, by David, of the consecration service in
+Notre Dame, described in an earlier chapter. To see this kind of
+picture, at which the French have for many years been extremely apt,
+one must of course go to Versailles, where the history of France is
+spread lavishly over many square miles of canvas.
+
+From this room--La Salle des Sept Cheminées--we pass through a little
+vestibule, with Courbet's great village funeral in it, to the very
+pleasant Salle La Caze, containing the greater part of the collection
+of the late Dr. La Caze, and notable chiefly for the Chardins of which
+I have already spoken, and also, by the further door, for a haunting
+"Buste de femme" attributed to the Milanese School. But there are
+other admirable pictures here, including a Velasquez, and it repays
+study.
+
+Leaving by the further door and walking for some distance, we come to
+the His de la Salle collection of drawings, from which we gain the
+Collection Thiers, which should perhaps be referred to here, although
+there is not the slightest necessity to see it at all. The Thiers
+collection, which occupies two rooms, is remarkable chiefly for its
+water-colour copies of great paintings. The first President of the
+Republic employed patient artists to make copies suitable for hanging
+upon his walls of such inaccessible works as the "Last Judgment" of
+Michael Angelo and Raphael's Dresden Madonna. The results are
+certainly extraordinary, even if they are not precisely la guerre. The
+Arundel Society perhaps found its inspiration in this collection.
+Among the originals there is a fine Terburg.
+
+On leaving the Thiers collection, one comes to a narrow passage with a
+little huddle of water-colours, very badly treated as to light and
+space, and well worth more consideration. These pictures should not be
+missed, for among them are two Boningtons, a windmill in a sombre
+landscape, which I reproduce opposite page 274, and next to it a
+masterly drawing of the statue of Bartolommé Colleoni at Venice, which
+Ruskin called the finest equestrian group in the world. Bonington, who
+had the special gift of painting great pictures in small compass (just
+as there are men who can use a whole wall to paint a little picture
+on), has made a drawing in which the original sculptor would have
+rejoiced. It would do the Louvre authorities good if these Boningtons,
+which they treat so carelessly, were stolen. Nothing could be easier;
+I worked out the felony as I stood there. All that one would need
+would be a few friends equally concerned to teach the Louvre a lesson,
+behind whose broad backs one could ply the diamond and the knife. Were
+I a company promoter this is how I should spend my leisure hours. Such
+theft is very nigh virtue.
+
+Among other pictures in these bad little rooms--Nos. XVII. and
+XVIII.--are some Millets and Decamps.
+
+Three more collections--and these really more interesting than
+anything we saw in Galeries XIV. or XVI., or the Salle des Sept
+Cheminées--await us; but two of them need considerable powers of
+perambulation. Chronology having got us under his thumb we must make
+the longer journey first--to the Collection Moreau. The Collection
+Moreau is to be found at the top of the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, the
+entrance to which is in the Rue de Rivoli. In the lower part of this
+building are held periodical exhibitions; but the upper parts are
+likely at any rate for a long time to remain unchanged, and here are
+wonderful collections of furniture, and here hang the few but select
+canvases brought together by Adolphe Moreau and his son, and presented
+to the nation by M. Etienne Moreau-Nelaton.
+
+In the Thomy-Thierret collection in another top storey of the same
+inexhaustible palace (to which our fainting feet are bound) are Corots
+of the late period; M. Moreau bought the earlier. Here, among nearly
+forty others, you may see that portrait of Corot painted in 1825, just
+before he left for Rome, which his parents exacted from him in return
+for their consent to his new career and the abandonment of their rosy
+dreams of his success as a draper. Here you may see "Un Moine," one of
+the first pictures he was able to sell--for five hundred francs
+(twenty pounds). Here is the charming marine "La Rochelle" painted in
+1851 and given by Corot to Desbarolles and by Desbarolles to the
+younger Dumas. Here is the very beautiful Pont de Mantes, reproduced
+opposite page 252, belonging to his later manner, and here also is an
+exceptionally merry little sketch, "Bateau de pêche à marée basse". I
+mention these only, since selection is necessary; but everything that
+Corot painted becomes in time satisfying to the student and
+indispensable to its owner. Among the pencil drawings we find this
+exquisite lover of nature once more, with fifteen studies of his
+Mistress.
+
+One of the most interesting of the Moreau pictures is Fantin-Latour's
+"Hommage à Delacroix," with its figures of certain of the great and
+more daring writers and painters of the day, 1864, the year after
+Delacroix's death. They are grouped about his framed portrait--Manet,
+red haired and red bearded, a little like Mr. Meredith in feature;
+Whistler, with his white feather black and vigorous, and his hand on
+the historical cane; Legros (the only member of the group who is still
+living, and long may he live!) and Baudelaire, for all the world like
+an innocent professor. Manet himself is represented here by his famous
+"Déjeuner sur l'herbe," which the scandalised Salon of 1863 refused to
+hang, and three smaller canvases. Among the remaining pictures which
+gave me most pleasure are Couture's portrait of Adolphe Moreau the
+younger; Daumier's "La République"; Carrière's "L'enfant à la
+soupière" (notice the white bowl); Decamps' "La Battue," curiously
+like a Koninck; and Troyon's "Le Passage du Gué," so rich and sweet.
+
+From the Collection Moreau, with its early Barbizon pictures, one
+ought to pass to the Chauchard with its middle period, and then to the
+Collection Thomy-Thierret; but let us go to the Thomy-Thierret now. It
+needs courage and endurance, for the room which contains these
+exquisite pictures is only to be reached on foot after climbing many
+stairs and walking for what seem to be many miles among models of
+ships and other neglected curiosities on the Louvre's topmost floor.
+But once the room is reached one is perfectly happy, for every picture
+is a gem and there is no one there. M. Thomy-Thierret, who died quite
+recently, was a collector who liked pictures to be small, to be rich
+in colour, and to be painted by the Barbizon and Romantic Schools.
+Here you may see twelve Corots, all of a much later period than those
+bequeathed by M. Moreau, among them such masterpieces as "Le Vallon"
+(No. 2801), reproduced opposite the next page, "Le Chemin de Sèvres"
+(No. 2803), "Entrée de Village" (No. 2808), "Les Chaumières" (No.
+2809), and "La Route d'Arras" (No. 2810). Here are thirteen Daubignys,
+including "Les Graves de Villerville" (No. 28,177), and one sombre and
+haunting English scene--"La Tamise à Erith" (No. 2821). Here are ten
+Diazes, most beautiful of which to my eyes is "L'Éplorée" (No. 2863).
+Here are ten Rousseaus, among them "Le Printemps" (No. 2903), with
+its rapturous freshness, which I reproduce opposite page 120, and "Les
+Chênes" (No. 2900), such a group of trees as Rousseau alone could
+paint. Here are six Millets, my favourite being the "Précaution
+Maternelle" (No. 2894), with its lovely blues, which again reappear in
+"Le Vanneur" (No. 2893). Here are eleven Troyons, of which "La
+Provende des poules" (No. 2907), with its bustle of turkeys and
+chickens around the gay peasant girl beneath a burning sky, reproduced
+opposite page 266, is one of the first pictures to which my feet carry
+me on my visits to Paris. Here are twelve Duprés, most memorable of
+which is "Les Landes" (No. 2871). And here also are Delacroix',
+Isabeys and Meissoniers.
+
+The Chauchard pictures--140 in number--which are now hanging in five
+rooms leading from the Salle Rubens, were bequeathed to the nation by
+M. Alfred Chauchard, proprietor of the Magasins du Louvre (which some
+visitors to Paris have considered the only Louvre). Among the pictures
+are twenty-six by Corot, twenty-six by Meissonier, eight by Millet
+(including "L'Angelus") and eight by Daubigny.
+
+  [Illustration: LE VALLON
+    COROT
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+I may say at once that the Chauchard Collection does not compare with
+the Thomy-Thierret in courage. M. Thomy-Thierret liked his pictures to
+be small and exquisite and happy. Within the limits imposed the
+Barbizon painters never did anything more delightful or indeed better.
+The whole collection--and it is beyond price--is homogeneous: it
+embodies the taste of one man. M. Moreau and his son had a robuster
+taste, a bolder eye. They wanted strength as well as sweetness, or
+strength alone. Their collection has not quite the homogeneity of the
+Thomy-Thierret, but one feels here also that personality has honestly
+been at work bringing together things of beauty and power that pleased
+it, and nothing else. But M. Chauchard....
+
+It is perfectly evident in a moment that M. Chauchard had neither
+knowledge nor taste. He merely had acumen. At a certain moment in his
+successful life, one feels, M. Chauchard extended himself before the
+fire-place, stroked his spreading _favoris_ (so like those of our own
+Whiteley), and announced "I must have some pictures". Other prosperous
+men saying the same thing have forthwith taken their courage in their
+hands and bought pictures; but M. Chauchard as I see him (both in his
+dazzling marble bust and in the portrait by Benjamin Constant), was
+not like that. "I must have some pictures," he announced, and then
+quickly reverted to type and cast about as to the best means of
+discovering whose pictures were most worth buying. That is how the
+Chauchard Collection came about, if I am not mistaken: it was the
+venture of an essentially commercial man--an investor-in-grain--who
+also desired a reputation of virtuosity but did not want to lose money
+over it.
+
+As it happens M. Chauchard was well advised. But wonderful as they
+are, beautiful as they are, valuable as they are, there is not a
+picture here which suggests to the visitor that it ever brought a real
+gladness to the eyes of its owner in his own home.
+
+But I can convince you only too easily that M. Chauchard had no taste.
+Do you remember when driving out to Longchamp, through the Bois,
+either to the Races or to Suresnes, just after you pass the Cascade,
+you come on the left to a windmill overlooking the course, and on the
+right to a white villa, all alone and unreal? A club house, one
+naturally thinks it, for the French Jockey Club, or something of that
+kind. You may have forgotten the villa, but you will recall it when I
+say that on the very trim vivid lawn in front of it, scattered about,
+supposed to be counterfeiting life, are various animals in stone--a
+stag, a doe, some dogs, all white and motionless, in the best mortuary
+manner, and all, to you and me, outrageous. Well, that was one of M.
+Chauchard's homes. M. Chauchard was the owner of that lawn and its
+occupants. The man who looking out of his window could feast his eye
+on these triumphs of the monumental mason was the same man who bought
+for his walls sheep by Jacque and Millet, and cattle and dogs by
+Troyon....
+
+No matter. M. Chauchard acquired pictures and left them to the French
+Nation, and they are now on view for ever (always excepting the fatal
+Continental Mondays) for all to rejoice in. The first really
+compellingly beautiful work as one enters--the first picture to touch
+the emotions--is Rousseau's "La Charrette". It was painted in 1862,
+five years before the painter's death, which left the villagers of
+Barbizon the richer by a studio-chapel. It is a mere trifle and it is
+as wonderful as a summer day: a forest glade, in the midst of which a
+tiny wagon and white horse with blue trappings are seen beneath a
+burning sky, such a picture as ought to have a wall if not a room to
+itself: such a picture as I should like to see placed above an altar.
+It is the same subject--a forest wagon--that provided what in some
+ways is the best or most attractive Corot here. His "La Charrette" is
+a large easy landscape lit by the gracious light of which he alone had
+the secret. In the foreground is a deep sandy road with the charrette
+labouring through it. But before we came to this we had stood before
+one of the finest of the seven Daubignys, "La Seine à Bezons," a river
+scene of almost terrible calm, with Mont Valerien in the distance and
+geese and boats on the near shore, and implicit in it the sincerity,
+strength and humility of this great man.
+
+At the end of the room hang two large and busy Troyons, one on each
+side of M. Chauchard himself, the donor of the feast, whose bust in
+the whitest Carrara, with the whiskers in full fig and the _croix de
+grand officier du Legion d'honneur_ meticulously carved upon it,
+stands here, as stipulated in the will. These two Troyons, of which
+there are eighteen in all, are I think the largest. One represents
+cows sauntering lazily down to drink; the other the return from the
+market of a mixed herd of cattle and sheep, with a donkey in panniers,
+being driven by a man on a white horse. As was his wont, Troyon chose
+a road on the edge of a cliff with a very green border of turf and an
+exquisite glimpse of sea to the left. None of the new Troyons perhaps
+is as fine as those in Salle VIII. of the Louvre proper, but this is a
+superb thing. The "Boeufs se rendant au labour" and the "Le Retour à
+la ferme" in Salle VIII. should be visited after the Chauchards.
+
+And so we leave the first and largest room, in the midst of which are
+two cases of Barye's bronzes--lions and tigers, bears and deer, snakes
+and birds--and enter the first room on the left as we came in; and
+here we begin to see for the first time pictures with special knots of
+people before them. For the Meissoniers begin here. And of Meissonier
+what am I to say? For Meissonier leaves me cold. He is marvellous; but
+he leaves me cold. He painted with a fidelity and spirit that border
+on the magical; but those qualities that I want in a picture, those
+callings of deep to deep, one seeks in vain. Hence I say nothing of
+Meissonier, except that he was a master, that there are twenty-six of
+his masterpieces here, and that the crowd opposite his "1814" extends
+to the opposite side. How can one spend time over "Le cheval de
+l'ordonnance" and the "Petit Poste de Grand'-Garde" when Daubigny's
+"Les Laveuses (effet de soleil couchant)" hangs so near--this great
+placid green picture, so profoundly true as to be almost an act of
+God? Corot's "Etang de Ville d'Avray" is here too, liquid and tender.
+
+The little room that leads out of this is usually almost unenterable
+by reason of the press before Meissonier's "1814". This undoubtedly is
+one of the little great pictures of the world, and I can understand
+the enthusiasm of the French sightseer, whose blood is still stirrable
+by the enduring personality of the saturnine man on the white horse.
+Neighbouring pictures are a rich cattle piece by Diaz, immediately
+over "1814"; Rousseau's "La Mare," which is not a little like the
+Koninck in the Ionides Collection at South Kensington, and the same
+painter's "La Mare au pied du coteau" with its lovely middle distance.
+Here too is one of Corot's many _pêcheurs_, who little knew as they
+fished on so quietly in the still gentle light that they were being
+rendered immortal by the quaint little bourgeois with the long pipe,
+sketching on the bank. One of the finest of the Duprés is also
+here--"La Vanne," a deep green scene of water.
+
+In the last room we come at last to that painter whose work, next
+perhaps to Meissonier's, is the magnet which draws such a steady
+stream of worshippers to this new shrine of art--to Jean François
+Millet. M. Chauchard had eight Millets, including the "Angelus," but
+though it is the "Angelus" which is considered of many to be the very
+core of this collection, I find more pleasure in "La Bergère gardant
+ses moutons" (reproduced opposite page 308), which I would call, I
+think, the best picture of all. It has been remarked that no picture
+containing sheep can ever be a bad picture; but when Millet paints
+them, and when they are grazing beneath such a sky, and when one of
+those grave sweet peasant women--a monument of patient acceptance and
+the humility that comes from the soil--is their shepherdess, why then
+it is almost too much; and the brave ardent Jacque, whose "Moutons au
+Pâturage" hangs close by, is half suspected of theatricalism. Millet
+is so great, so full of large elemental simplicity and truth that one
+regrets that his eight pictures have not a room to themselves. That
+they should be elbowed by the neat dancing-master _chefs d'oeuvre_
+of Meissonier is something of a catastrophe.
+
+Thinking over the collection, I have very strongly the feeling already
+expressed that it was wrongly assembled. The investor rather than the
+enthusiast is too apparent. M. Chauchard, it is true, refrained from
+making money by his acquisitions, since he gave them to the nation,
+and this is eternally to his credit. None the less I find it difficult
+to esteem him as perhaps one should even in the light of a generous
+testator. One so wants pictures to be loved. And of all pictures that
+are lovable and that long to pass into their owner's being--to
+engentle his eyes and enrich his experience and deepen his
+nature--none equal those that were painted by the little group of
+friends who in the middle of the last century made the white-walled
+village of Barbizon their head-quarters and the Forest of
+Fontainebleau their happy hunting-ground and a Wordsworthian passion
+for nature their creed.
+
+Such pictures deserve the most faithful owners and the most thoughtful
+hospitality....
+
+But if we cannot get all as we wish it, at least we must be grateful
+for the next best thing, and to M. Chauchard and the Louvre
+authorities we must all be supremely grateful.
+
+The Louvre is to-day the most wonderful museum in the world; but what
+would one not give to be able to visit it as it was in 1814, when it
+was in some respects more wonderful still. For then it was filled with
+the spoils of Napoleon's armies, who had instructions always to bring
+back from the conquered cities what they could see that was likely to
+beautify and enrich France. It is a reason for war in itself. I would
+support any war with Austria, for example, that would bring to London
+Count Czernin's Vermeer and the Parmigianino in the Vienna National
+Gallery; any war with Germany that would put the Berlin National
+Gallery at our disposal. Napoleon had other things to fight for, but
+that comprehensive brain forgot nothing, and as he deposed a king he
+remembered a blank space in the Louvre that lacked a Raphael, an empty
+niche waiting for its Phidias. The Revolution decreed the Museum, but
+it was Napoleon who made it priceless and glorious. After the fall of
+this man a trumpery era of restitution set in. Many of his noble
+patriotic thefts were cancelled out. The world readjusted itself and
+shrank into its old pettiness. Priceless pictures and statues were
+carried again to Italy and Austria, Napoleon to St. Helena.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TUILERIES
+
+     A Vanished Palace--The Most Magnificent Vista--Enter Louis
+     XVI. and Marie Antoinette--The Massacre of the Swiss
+     Guards--The Blood of Paris--A Series of Disasters--The
+     Growth of Paris--The Napoleonic Rebuilders--The Arc de
+     Triomphe du Carrousel--The Irony of History--A Frock Coat
+     Rampant--The Statuary of Paris--The Gardens of the
+     Tuileries--Monsieur Pol, Charmer of Birds--The Parisian
+     Sparrow--Hyde Park--The Drum.
+
+
+Had we turned our back only thirty-eight years ago on Frémiet's statue
+of Joan of Arc (which was not there then) in the Place de Rivoli, and
+walked down what is now the Rue de Tuileries towards the Seine, we
+should have had on our left hand a beautiful and imposing
+building--the Palace of the Tuileries, which united the two wings of
+the Louvre that now terminate in the Pavillon de Marsan just by the
+Place de Rivoli and the Pavillon de Flore on the Quai des Tuileries.
+The palace stretched right across this interval, thus interrupting the
+wonderful vista of to-day from the old Louvre right away to the Arc de
+Triomphe--probably the most extraordinary and beautiful civilised, or
+artificial, vista in the world. The palace had, however, a
+sufficiently fine if curtailed share of it from its own windows.
+
+All Parisians upwards of forty-five must remember the Palace
+perfectly, for it was not destroyed until 1871, during the Commune,
+and it was some years after that incendiary period before all traces
+were removed and the gardens spread uninterruptedly from the Carrousel
+to the Concorde.
+
+The Palace of the Tuileries (so called because it occupied a site
+previously covered by tile kilns) was begun in 1564 and had therefore
+lived for three centuries. Catherine de Médicis planned it, but, as we
+shall read later, she lost interest in it very quickly owing to one of
+those inconvenient prophecies which were wont in earlier times so to
+embarrass rulers, but which to-day in civilised countries have
+entirely gone out. The Tuileries was a happy enough palace, as palaces
+go, until the Revolution: it then became for a while the very centre
+of rebellion and carnage; for Louis XVI. and the Royal Family were
+conveyed thither after the fatal oath had been sworn in the Versailles
+tennis-court. Then came the critical 10th of August, when the King
+consented to attend the conference in the Manège (now no more, but a
+tablet opposite the Rue Castiglione marks the spot) and thus lost
+everything.
+
+The massacre of the Swiss Guards followed: but here it is impossible,
+or at least absurd, not to hear Carlyle. Mandal, Commander of the
+National Guard, I would premise, has been assassinated by the crowd;
+the Constitutional Assembly sits in the Manège, and the King, a
+prisoner in the Tuileries, but still a hesitant and an optimist, is
+ordered to attend it. At last he consents. "King Louis sits, his hands
+leant on his knees, body bent forward; gazes for a space fixedly on
+Syndic Roederer; then answers, looking over his shoulder to the
+Queen: _Marchons!_ They march; King Louis, Queen, Sister Elizabeth,
+the two royal children and governess: these, with Syndic Roederer,
+and Officials of the Department; amid a double rank of National
+Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red Swiss gaze
+mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only these words from Syndic
+Roederer: 'The King is going to the Assembly; make way'. It has
+struck eight, on all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left the
+Tuileries--forever.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PARC MONCEAU]
+
+"O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black, for what a cause
+are ye to spend and be spent! Look out from the western windows, ye
+may see King Louis placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince
+Royal 'sportfully kicking the fallen leaves'. Fremescent multitude on
+the Terrace of the Feuillants whirls parallel to him; one man in it,
+very noisy, with a long pole: will they not obstruct the outer
+Staircase, and back-entrance of the Salle, when it comes to that?
+King's Guards can go no farther than the bottom step there. Lo,
+Deputation of Legislators come out; he of the long pole is stilled by
+oratory; Assembly's Guards join themselves to King's Guards, and all
+may mount in this case of necessity; the outer Staircase is free, or
+passable. See, Royalty ascends; a blue Grenadier lifts the poor
+little Prince Royal from the press; Royalty has entered in. Royalty
+has vanished for ever from your eyes.--And ye? Left standing there,
+amid the yawning abysses, and earthquake of Insurrection; without
+course; without command: if ye perish, it must be as more than
+martyrs, as martyrs who are now without a cause! The black Courtiers
+disappear mostly; through such issues as they can. The poor Swiss know
+not how to act: one duty only is clear to them, that of standing by
+their post; and they will perform that.
+
+"But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats now against the
+Château barriers and eastern Courts; irresistible, loud-surging far
+and wide;--breaks in, fills the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowed
+Marseillese in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the
+Assembly! Well and good: but till the Assembly pronounce Forfeiture of
+him, what boots it? Our post is in that Château or stronghold of his;
+there till then must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss, whether it
+were good that grim murder began, and brothers blasted one another in
+pieces for a stone edifice?--Poor Swiss! they know not how to act:
+from the southern windows, some fling cartridges, in sign of
+brotherhood; on the eastern outer staircase, and within through long
+stairs and corridors, they stand firm-ranked, peaceable and yet
+refusing to stir. Westermann speaks to them in Alsatian German;
+Marseillese plead, in hot Provençal speech and pantomime; stunning
+hubbub pleads and threatens, infinite, around. The Swiss stand
+fast, peaceable and yet immovable; red granite pier in that
+waste-flashing sea of steel.
+
+"Who can help the inevitable issue; Marseillese and all France on this
+side; granite Swiss on that? The pantomime grows hotter and hotter;
+Marseillese sabres flourishing by way of action; the Swiss brow also
+clouding itself, the Swiss thumb bringing its firelock to the cock.
+And hark! high thundering above all the din, three Marseillese cannon
+from the Carrousel, pointed by a gunner of bad aim, come rattling over
+the roofs! Ye Swiss, therefore: _Fire!_ The Swiss fire; by volley, by
+platoon, in rolling fire: Marseillese men not a few, and 'a tall man
+that was louder than any,' lie silent, smashed upon the pavement;--not
+a few Marseillese, after the long dusty march, have made halt _here_.
+The Carrousel is void; the black tide recoiling; 'fugitives rushing as
+far as Saint-Antoine before they stop'. The Cannoneers without
+linstock have squatted invisible, and left their cannon; which the
+Swiss seize....
+
+"Behold, the fire slackens not; nor does the Swiss rolling-fire
+slacken from within. Nay they clutched cannon, as we saw; and now,
+from the other side, they clutch three pieces more; alas, cannon
+without linstock; nor will the steel-and-flint answer, though they try
+it. Had it chanced to answer! Patriot onlookers have their misgivings;
+one strangest Patriot onlooker thinks that the Swiss, had they a
+commander, would beat. He is a man not unqualified to judge; the name
+of him Napoleon Buonaparte. And onlookers, and women, stand gazing,
+and the witty Dr. Moore of Glasgow among them, on the other side of
+the River: cannon rush rumbling past them; pause on the Pont Royal;
+belch out their iron entrails there, against the Tuileries; and at
+every new belch, the women and onlookers 'shout and clap hands'.
+City of all the Devils! In remote streets, men are drinking
+breakfast-coffee; following their affairs; with a start now and then,
+as some dull echo reverberates a note louder. And here? Marseillese
+fall wounded; but Barbaroux has surgeons; Barbaroux is close by,
+managing, though underhand and under cover. Marseillese fall
+death-struck; bequeath their firelock, specify in which pocket are the
+cartridges; and die murmuring, 'Revenge me, Revenge thy country!'
+Brest Fédéré Officers, galloping in red coats, are shot as Swiss. Lo
+you, the Carrousel has burst into flame!--Paris Pandemonium! Nay the
+poor City, as we said, is in fever-fit and convulsion: such crisis has
+lasted for the space of some half hour.
+
+"But what is this that, with Legislative Insignia, ventures through
+the hubbub and death-hail, from the back-entrance of the Manège?
+Towards the Tuileries and Swiss: written Order from his Majesty to
+cease firing! O ye hapless Swiss, why was there no order not to begin
+it? Gladly would the Swiss cease firing: but who will bid mad
+Insurrection cease firing? To Insurrection you cannot speak; neither
+can it, hydra-headed, hear. The dead and dying, by the hundred, lie
+all around; are borne bleeding through the streets, towards help; the
+sight of them, like a torch of the Furies, kindling Madness. Patriot
+Paris roars; as the bear bereaved of her whelps. On, ye Patriots:
+Vengeance! Victory or death! There are men seen, who rush on, armed
+only with walking-sticks. Terror and Fury rule the hour.
+
+"The Swiss, pressed on from without, paralysed from within, have
+ceased to shoot; but not to be shot. What shall they do? Desperate is
+the moment. Shelter or instant death: yet How, Where? One party flies
+out by the Rue de l'Echelle; is destroyed utterly, '_en entier_'. A
+second, by the other side, throws itself into the Garden; 'hurrying
+across a keen fusillade'; rushes suppliant into the National Assembly;
+finds pity and refuge in the back benches there. The third, and
+largest, darts out in column, three hundred strong, towards the Champs
+Elysées: 'Ah, could we but reach Courbevoye, where other Swiss are!'
+Wo! see, in such fusillade the column 'soon breaks itself by diversity
+of opinion,' into distracted segments, this way and that;--to escape
+in holes, to die fighting from street to street. The firing and
+murdering will not cease; not yet for long. The red Porters of Hôtels
+are shot at, be they _Suisse_ by nature, or _Suisse_ only in name....
+
+"Surely few things in the history of carnage are painfuller. What
+ineffaceable red streak, flickering so sad in the memory, is that, of
+this poor column of red Swiss 'breaking itself in the confusion of
+opinions'; dispersing, into blackness and death! Honour to you,
+brave men; honourable pity, through long times! Not martyrs were ye;
+and yet almost more. He was no King of yours, this Louis; and he
+forsook you like a King of shreds and patches: ye were but sold to him
+for some poor sixpence a-day; yet would ye work for your wages, keep
+your plighted word. The work now was to die; and ye did it. Honour to
+you, O Kinsmen."
+
+  [Illustration: LE PRINTEMPS
+    ROUSSEAU
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+Is that too dreadful an association for this spot? It is terrible; but
+to visit Paris without any historical interest is too materialistic a
+proceeding, and to have the historical interest in Paris and be afraid
+of a little blood is an untenable position. Paris is steeped in blood.
+
+The Tuileries had not seen all its riot yet; July 29th, 1830, was to
+come, when, after another taste of monarchy, revived in 1814 after its
+murder on that appalling 10th of August (which was virtually its death
+day, although the date of the birth of the First Republic stands as
+September 21st, 1793), the mob attacked the Palace, the last Bourbon
+king, Charles X., fled from it and from France, and Louis-Philippe of
+Orléans mounted the throne in his stead. But that was not all. Another
+seventeen and a half years and revengeful time saw Louis-Philippe,
+last of the Orléans kings, escaping in his turn from another besieging
+crowd, and the establishment of the Second Republic.
+
+During the Second Empire some of the old splendour returned, and it
+was here, at the Tuileries, that Napoleon III. drew up many of his
+plans for the modern Paris that we now know; and then came the
+Prussian war and the Third Republic, and then the terrible Communard
+insurrection in the spring of 1871, in which the Tuileries disappeared
+for ever. Napoleon III., as I have said, assisted by Baron Haussmann,
+toiled in the great pacific task of renovating Paris, not with the
+imaginative genius of his uncle, but with an undeniable largeness and
+sagacity. He it was who added so greatly to the Louvre--all that part
+in fact opposite the Place du Palais Royal and the Magasins du Louvre
+as far west as the Rue de Rohan. A large portion of the corresponding
+wing on the river side was his too. But here is a list, since we are
+on the subject of modern Paris--which began with the great Napoleon's
+reconstruction of the ravages (beneficial for the most part) of the
+Revolutionaries--of the efforts made by each ruler since that epoch. I
+borrow the table from the Marquis de Rochegude.
+
+"Napoleon I.--Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, Vendôme Column, Façade du
+Corps Legislatif, Commencement of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, La
+Bourse, the Bridges d'Austerlitz, d'Iéna, des Arts, de la Cité,
+several Markets, Quais d'Orsay, de Billy, du Louvre, Montebello, de la
+Tournelle; the Eastern and Northern Cemeteries; numbering the houses
+in 1806, begun without success in 1728; pavements in the streets and
+doing away with the streams or flowing gutters in the middle of the
+streets." (How like Napoleon to get the houses numbered on a clear
+system! Throughout Paris the odd numbers occupy one side of the street
+and the even the other. All are numbered from the Seine outwards.)
+
+"The Restoration.--Chapel Expiatoire, N.D. de Bonne-Nouvelle, N.D. de
+Lorette, St. Vincent de Paul; Bridges of the Invalides, of the
+Archbishopric, d'Arcole; Canals of St. Denis and St. Martin;
+fifty-five new streets; lighting by gas." (It was about 1828 that cabs
+came in. They were called fiacres from the circumstance that their
+originator carried on his business at the sign of the Grand St.
+Fiacre.)
+
+"Louis-Philippe, 1830-1848.--Finished the Madeleine, Arc de Triomphe,
+erected the Obelisk (Place de la Concorde), Column of July; Bridges:
+Louis-Philippe, Carrousel; Palace of the Quai d'Orsay; enlarged the
+Palais de Justice; restored Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle; Fountains:
+Louvois, Cuvier, St. Sulpice, Gaillon, Molière; opened the Museums of
+Cluny and the Thermes. In 1843--1,100 streets.
+
+"Napoleon III., 1852-1870.--Embellished Paris--execution of
+Haussmann's plans, twenty-two new boulevards; Streets Lafayette,
+Quatre-Septembre, de Turbigo; Bvd. St. Germain; Rues des Ecoles, de
+Rivoli, the Champs Elysées Quarter, the Avenues Friedland, Hoche,
+Kléber, the Marceau, de L'Impératrice, many squares; a part of new
+Louvre; Churches of St. Augustine, The Trinity, St. Ambroise, Ste.
+Clotilde (finishing of); Theatres, Châtelet, Lyrique, du Vaudeville;
+Tribunal of Commerce, Hôtel Dieu, Barracks, Central Markets (also the
+ceinture railway); finishing of the Laribosière hospital, the Fountain
+of St. Michel, the Bridges of Solferino, L'Alma, the Pont au Change.
+In 1861, 1,667,841 inhabitants.
+
+"The Commune.--Burning of the Tuileries, the Ministry of Finance, the
+Louvre Library, the Hôtel de Ville, the Palace of the Legion of
+Honour, the Palace of the Quai d'Orsay, the Lyric, the Châtelet and
+the Porte St. Martin theatres, etc.
+
+"The Republic.--Reconstruction of the buildings burnt by the Commune;
+Avenue de l'Opéra, the Opera House; Streets: Etienne Marcel, Réaumur,
+Avenue de la République, etc. In 1892, 4,090 streets, in 1902 there
+were 4,261 streets. The Exhibition 1878 left the Trocadero, and that
+of 1889 the Eiffel Tower, and that of 1900 the two Palaces of the
+Champs-Elysées and the bridge Alexander III." (To this one should add
+the Métro, still uncompleted, which has the advantage over London's
+Tubes of being only just below the surface, so that no lift is
+needed.)
+
+  [Illustration: THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL (WEST FAÇADE)]
+
+The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, at the east end of the gardens, is a
+mere child compared with the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, which stands
+there, so serenely and magnificently, at the end of the vista in the
+west, nearly two amazing miles away; it could be placed easily, with
+many feet to spare, under that greater monument's arch (as Victor
+Hugo's coffin was); but it is more beautiful. Both were the work of
+Napoleon, both celebrate the victories of 1805-06. The Carrousel is
+surmounted by a triumphal car and four horses; but here again, as in
+the case of the statue of Henri IV. on the Pont Neuf, there have been
+ironical changes. Napoleon, when he ordained the arch, which was
+intended largely to reproduce that of Severus at Rome, ravished for
+its crowning the quadriga from St. Mark's at Venice: those glorious
+gleaming horses over the door. That was as it should be: he was a
+conqueror and entitled to the spoils of conquest. But after his fall
+came, as we have seen, a pedantic disgorgement of such treasure; the
+golden team trotted back to the Adriatic, and a new decoration had to
+be provided for the Carrousel. Hence the present one, which
+represents--what? It is almost inconceivable; but, Louis XVIII. having
+commissioned it, it represents the triumph no longer of Napoleon but
+of the Restoration! Amusing to remember this under the Third Republic,
+as one looks up at it and then at the bas-reliefs of the battle of
+Austerlitz, the peace of Tilsit, the capitulation of Ulm, the entry
+into Munich, the entry into Vienna and the peace of Pressburg. Time's
+revenges indeed.
+
+Standing under the Arc du Carrousel one makes the interesting but
+disappointing discovery that the Arc de Triomphe, the column of Luxor
+in the Place de la Concorde, the fountain, the Arc du Carrousel, the
+Gambetta monument and the Pavillon Sully of the Louvre do not form a
+straight line, as by all the laws of French architectural symmetry
+they should--especially here, where compasses and rulers seem to have
+been at work on every inch of the ground, and, as I have ascertained,
+general opinion considers them to do. All is well, from the west,
+until the Arc du Carrousel; it is the Gambetta and the Pavilion Sully
+that throw it out.
+
+The Gambetta! This monument fascinates me, not by its beauty nor
+because I have any especial reverence for the statesman; but simply by
+the vigour of his clothes, the frock coat and the light overcoat of
+the flamboyant orator, holding forth for evermore (or until his hour
+strikes), urgent and impetuous and French. To the frock coat in
+sculpture we in London are no strangers, for have we not Parliament
+Square? but our frock coats are quiescent, dead even, things of stone.
+Gambetta's, on the contrary, is tempestuous--surely the most heroic
+frock coat that ever emerged from the quarries of Carrara. It might
+have been cut by the Great Mel himself.
+
+I have never seen a computation of the stone and bronze population of
+Paris, but the statues must be thousands strong. A Pied Piper leading
+them out of the city would be worth seeing, although I for one would
+regret their loss. Paris, I suppose, was Paris no less than now in the
+days before Gambetta masqueraded as a Frock Coated Victory almost
+within hail of the Winged Victory of Samothrace; but Paris certainly
+would not be Paris any more were some new turn of the wheel to whisk
+him away and leave the Place du Carrousel forlorn and tepid. The loss
+even of the smug figure of Jules Simon, just outside Durand's, would
+be something like a bereavement. I once, by the way, saw this statue
+wearing, after a snowstorm, a white fur cap and cape that gave him a
+character--something almost Siberian--beyond anything dreamed of by
+the sculptor.
+
+It is not until one has walked through the gardens of the Tuileries
+that the wealth of statuary in Paris begins to impress the mind. For
+there must be almost as many statues as flowers. They shine or glimmer
+everywhere, as in the Athenian groves--allegorical, symbolical,
+mythological, naked. The Luxembourg Gardens, as we shall see, are
+hardly less rich, but there one finds the statues of real persons.
+Here, as becomes a formal garden projected by a king, realism is
+excluded. Formal it is in the extreme; the trees are sternly
+pollarded, the beds are mathematically laid out, the paths are
+straight and not to be deviated from. None the less on a hot summer's
+day there are few more delightful spots, with the placid bonnes
+sitting so solidly, as only French women can sit, over their
+needlework, and their charges flitting like discreet butterflies all
+around them; and here are two old philosophers--another Bouvard and
+Pécuchet--discussing some problem of conduct or science, and there a
+family party lunching heartily, without shame. Pleasant groves,
+pleasant people!
+
+But the best thing in the Tuileries is M. Pol. Who is M. Pol? Well, he
+may not be the most famous man in Paris, but he is certainly the most
+engaging. M. Pol is the charmer of birds--"Le Charmeur d'oiseaux au
+Jardin des Tuileries," to give him his full title. There may be other
+charmers too at their pretty labours; but M. Pol comes easily first:
+his personality is so attractive, his terms of intercourse with the
+birds so intimate. His oiseaux are chiefly sparrows, whom he knows by
+name--La Princesse, Le Loustic, Garibaldi, La Baronne, l'Anglais, and
+so forth. They come one by one at his call, and he pets them and
+praises them; talks pretty ironical talk; uses them (particularly the
+little brown l'Anglais) for sly satirical purposes, for there are
+usually a few English spectators; affects to admonish and even
+chastise them, shuffling minatory feet with all the noise but none of
+the illusion of seriousness; and never ceases the while to scatter his
+crumbs or seeds of comfort. It is a very charming little drama, and
+although carried on every day, and for some hours every day, it has no
+suggestion of routine; one feels that the springs of it are sweetness
+and benevolence.
+
+He is a typical elderly Latin, this M. Pol, a little unmindful as to
+his dress, a little inclined to shamble: humorous, careless, gentle.
+When I first saw him, years ago, he fed his birds and went his way:
+but he now makes a little money by it too, now and then offering, very
+reluctantly, postcards bearing pictures of himself with all his birds
+about him and a distich or so from his pen. For M. Pol is a poet in
+words as well as deeds: "De nos petits oiseaux," he writes on one
+card:--
+
+     "De nos petits oiseaux, je suis le bienfaiteur,
+     Et je vais tous les jours leur donner la pâture,
+     Mais suivant un contrat dicté par la nature
+     Quand je donne mon pain, ils me donnent leur coeur."
+
+I think this true. It is a little more than cupboard love that
+inspires these tiny creatures, or they would never settle on M. Pol's
+hands and shoulders as they do. He has charmed the pigeons also; but
+here he admits to a lower motive:--
+
+     "Ils savent, les malins, que leur couvert est mis,
+     C'est en faisant du bien qu'on se fait des amis."
+
+It amused me one day at the Louvre to fix one of these photographs in
+the frame of Giotto's picture of St. Francis (in Salle VII.), one of
+the scenes of which shows him preaching to the birds, thus bridging
+the gulf between the centuries and making for the moment the Assisi of
+the Saint and the Paris of M. Briand one.
+
+London has its noticeable lovers of animals too--you may see in St.
+Paul's churchyard in the dinner hour isolated figures surrounded and
+covered by pigeons: the British Museum courtyard also knows one or
+two, and the Guildhall: quite like Venice, both of them, save that no
+one is excited about it; while in St. James's Square may be seen at
+all hours of every day the mysterious cat woman with her pensioners
+all about her on their little mats. Every city has these
+humorists--shall I say? using the word as it was wont to be used long
+ago. But M. Pol--M. Pol stands alone. It is not merely that he charms
+the birds but that he is so charming with them. The pigeon feeders of
+London whom I have watched bring their maize, distribute it and go. M.
+Pol is more of a St. Francis than that: as I have shown, he converses,
+jokes and exchanges moods with his friends.
+
+Although he is acquainted with pigeons, his real friends are the
+gamins of the air, the sparrows, true Parisians, who have the best
+news. Pigeons, one can conceive, pick up a fact here and there, but it
+would have a foreign or provincial flavour. Now if there is one thing
+which bores a true Parisian it is talk of what is happening outside
+Paris. The Parisian's horizons do not extend beyond his city. The sun
+for him rises out of the Bois de Vincennes, and evening comes because
+it has sunk into the Bois de Boulogne. Hence M. Pol's wisdom in
+choosing the sparrow for his companion, his oiseau intime.
+
+So far had I written when I chanced to walk into London by way of Hyde
+Park, and there, just by the Achilles statue, was a charming gentleman
+in a tall white hat whistling a low whistle to a little band of
+sparrows who followed him and surrounded him and fluttered up, one by
+one, to his hand. We talked a little together, and he told me that the
+birds never forget him, though he is absent for eight months each
+year. His whistle brings them at once. So London is all right after
+all. And I have been told delightful things about the friends of the
+grey squirrels in Central Park; so New York perhaps is all right too.
+
+The Round Pond of Paris is at the Tuileries--not so vast as the _mare
+clausum_ of Kensington Gardens, but capable of accommodating many
+argosies. Leaving this Pond behind us and making for the Place de la
+Concorde, we have on the right the remains of a monastery of the
+Cistercians, one of the many religious houses which stood all about
+the north of the Gardens at the time of the Revolution and were first
+discredited and emptied by the votaries of Reason and then swept away
+by Napoleon when he made the Rue de Rivoli. The building on the left
+is the Orangery. It is in this part that the temporary pavilions are
+erected for the banquets to provincial mayors and such pleasant
+ceremonies, while in the summer some little exhibition is usually in
+progress.
+
+But what is that sound? The beating of a drum. We must hasten to the
+gates, for that means closing time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE--THE CHAMPS-ELYSÉES AND THE INVALIDES
+
+     A Dangerous Crossing--An Ill-omened Place--Louis the XVI. in
+     Prosperity and Adversity--January 21st, 1793--The End of
+     Robespierre--The Luxor Column--The Congress of
+     Wheels--England and France--The Champs Elysées--The Parc
+     Monceau--A Terrestrial Paradise--Oriental Museums--The
+     Etoile's Tributaries--The Arc de Triomphe--The Avenue du
+     Bois de Boulogne--A Vast Pleasure-ground--Happy
+     Sundays--Longchamp--The Pari-mutuel--Spotting a Winner--Two
+     Crowded Corners--The Rival Salons--The Palais des
+     Beaux-Arts--Dutch Masters--Modern French Painters--Superb
+     Drawing--Fairies among the Statues--The Pont Alexandre
+     III.--The Fairs of Paris--A Vast Alms-house--A Model
+     Museum--Relics of Napoleon--The Second Funeral of
+     Napoleon--The Tomb of Napoleon.
+
+
+The Place de la Concorde by day is vast rather than beautiful, and by
+night it is a congress of lamps. By both it is dangerous, and in bad
+weather as exposed as the open sea. But it is sacred ground and Paris
+is unthinkable without it. The interest of the Place is summed up in
+the Luxor column, which may perhaps be said to mark what is perhaps
+the most critical site in modern history; for where the obelisk now
+stands stood not so very long ago the guillotine.
+
+The Place's name has been Concorde only since 1830 It began in 1763,
+when a bronze statue of Louis XV. on horseback was erected there,
+surrounded by emblematic figures, from the chisel of Pigalle, of
+Prudence, Justice, Force and Peace. Hence the characteristic French
+epigram:--
+
+     "O la belle statue, O le beau piédestal!
+     Les Vertus sont à pied, le Vice est à cheval."
+
+Before this time the Place had been an open and uncultivated space; it
+was now enclosed, surrounded with fosses, made trim, and called La
+Place Louis Quinze. In 1770, however, came tragedy; for on the
+occasion of the marriage of the Dauphin, afterwards the luckless Louis
+XVI., with the equally luckless Marie Antoinette, a display of
+fireworks was given, during which one of the rockets (as one always
+dreads at every display) declined the sky and rushed horizontally into
+the crowd, and in the resulting stampede thousands of persons fell
+into the ditches, twelve hundred being killed outright and two
+thousand injured.
+
+Twenty-two years later, kings having suddenly become cheap, the
+National Convention ordered the statue of Louis XV. to be melted down
+and recast into cannon, a clay figure of Liberté to be set up in its
+stead, and the name to be changed to the Place de la Révolution. This
+was done, and a little later the guillotine was erected a few yards
+west of the spot where the Luxor column now stands, primarily for the
+removal of the head of Louis XVI., in whose honour those unfortunate
+fireworks had been ignited. The day was January 21st, 1793.
+
+"King Louis," says Carlyle, "slept sound, till five in the morning,
+when Cléry, as he had been ordered, awoke him. Cléry dressed his hair:
+while this went forward, Louis took a ring from his watch, and kept
+trying it on his finger; it was his wedding-ring, which he is now to
+return to the Queen as a mute farewell. At half-past six, he took the
+Sacrament; and continued in devotion, and conference with Abbé
+Edgeworth. He will not see his Family: it were too hard to bear.
+
+"At eight, the Municipals enter: the King gives them his Will, and
+messages and effects; which they, at first, brutally refuse to take
+charge of: he gives them a roll of gold pieces, a hundred and
+twenty-five louis; these are to be returned to Malesherbes, who had
+lent them. At nine, Santerre says the hour is come. The King begs yet
+to retire for three minutes. At the end of three minutes, Santerre
+again says the hour is come. 'Stamping on the ground with his
+right-foot, Louis answers: "_Partons_, Let us go."'--How the rolling
+of those drums comes in, through the Temple bastions and bulwarks, on
+the heart of a queenly wife; soon to be a widow! He is gone, then, and
+has not seen us? A Queen weeps bitterly; a King's Sister and Children.
+Over all these Four does Death also hover: all shall perish miserably
+save one; she, as Duchesse d'Angoulême, will live,--not happily.
+
+"At the Temple Gate were some faint cries, perhaps from voices of
+pitiful women: '_Grâce! Grâce!_' Through the rest of the streets there
+is silence as of the grave. No man not armed is allowed to be there:
+the armed, did any even pity, dare not express it, each man overawed
+by all his neighbours. All windows are down, none seen looking through
+them. All shops are shut. No wheel-carriage rolls, this morning, in
+these streets but one only. Eighty thousand armed men stand ranked,
+like armed statues of men; cannons bristle, cannoneers with match
+burning, but no word or movement: it is as a city enchanted into
+silence and stone: one carriage with its escort, slowly rumbling, is
+the only sound. Louis reads, in his Book of Devotion, the Prayers of
+the Dying: clatter of this death-march falls sharp on the ear, in the
+great silence; but the thought would fain struggle heavenward, and
+forget the Earth.
+
+"As the clocks strike ten, behold the Place de la Révolution, once
+Place de Louis Quinze: the Guillotine, mounted near the old Pedestal
+where once stood the Statue of that Louis! Far round, all bristles
+with cannons and armed men: spectators crowding in the rear; D'Orléans
+Egalité there in cabriolet. Swift messengers, _hoquetons_, speed to
+the Townhall, every three minutes: near by is the Convention
+sitting,--vengeful for Lepelletier. Heedless of all, Louis reads his
+Prayers of the Dying; not till five minutes yet has he finished; then
+the Carriage opens. What temper he is in? Ten different witnesses will
+give ten different accounts of it. He is in the collision of all
+tempers; arrived now at the black Maelstrom and descent of Death: in
+sorrow, in indignation, in resignation struggling to be resigned.
+'Take care of M. Edgeworth,' he straitly charges the Lieutenant who is
+sitting with them: then they two descend.
+
+"The drums are beating: '_Taisez-vous_, Silence!' he cries 'in a
+terrible voice, _d'une voix terrible_'. He mounts the scaffold, not
+without delay; he is in puce coat, breeches of gray, white stockings.
+He strips off the coat; stands disclosed in a sleeve-waistcoat of
+white flannel. The Executioners approach to bind him: he spurns,
+resists; Abbé Edgeworth has to remind him how the Saviour, in whom men
+trust, submitted to be bound. His hands are tied, his head bare, the
+fatal moment is come. He advances to the edge of the Scaffold, 'his
+face very red,' and says: 'Frenchmen, I die innocent: it is from the
+Scaffold and near appearing before God that I tell you so. I pardon my
+enemies: I desire that France----' A General on horseback, Santerre or
+another, prances out, with uplifted hand: '_Tambours!_' The drums
+drown the voice. Executioners, do your duty!' The Executioners,
+desperate lest themselves be murdered (for Santerre and his Armed
+Ranks will strike, if they do not), seize the hapless Louis: six of
+them desperate, him singly desperate, struggling there; and bind him
+to their plank. Abbé Edgeworth, stooping, bespeaks him: 'Son of Saint
+Louis, ascend to Heaven'. The Axe clanks down; a King's Life is shorn
+away. It is Monday the 21st of January, 1793. He was aged Thirty-eight
+years, four months and twenty-eight days.
+
+  [Illustration: VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT
+    GHIRLANDAIO
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+"Executioner Samson shows the Head: fierce shout of _Vive la
+République_ rises, and swells; caps raised on bayonets, hats waving;
+students of the College of Four Nations take it up, on the far Quais;
+fling it over Paris. D'Orléans drives off in his cabriolet: the
+Townhall Councillors rub their hands, saying, 'It is done, It is
+done'. There is dipping of handkerchiefs, of pike-points in the blood.
+Headsman Samson, though he afterwards denied it, sells locks of the
+hair: fractions of the puce coat are long after worn in rings.--And
+so, in some half-hour it is done; and the multitude has all departed.
+Pastry-cooks, coffee-sellers, milkmen sing out their trivial quotidian
+cries: the world wags on, as if this were a common day. In the
+coffee-houses that evening, says Prudhomme, Patriot shook hands with
+Patriot in a more cordial manner than usual. Not till some days after,
+according to Mercier, did public men see what a grave thing it was."
+
+The guillotine for more ordinary purposes worked in the Place du
+Carrousel, not far from Gambetta's statue to-day; but from May, 1793,
+until June, 1794, it was back in the Place de la Concorde (then Place
+de la Révolution) again, accounting during that time for no fewer than
+1,235 offenders, including Charlotte Corday, Madame Roland and Marie
+Antoinette. The blood flowed daily, while the tricoteuses looked on
+over their knitting and the mob howled.
+
+Another removal, to the Place de la Bastille, and then on 28th July,
+1794, the engine of justice or vengeance was back again to end a life
+and the Reign of Terror in one blow. What life? But listen:
+"Robespierre," lay in an anteroom of the Convention Hall, while his
+Prison-escort was getting ready; the mangled jaw bound up rudely with
+bloody linen: a spectacle to men. He lies stretched on a table, a
+deal-box his pillow; the sheath of the pistol is still clenched
+convulsively in his hand. Men bully him, insult him: his eyes still
+indicate intelligence; he speaks no word. 'He had on the sky-blue coat
+he had got made for the Feast of the _Être Suprême_'--O Reader, can
+thy hard heart hold out against that? His trousers were nankeen; the
+stockings had fallen down over the ankles. He spake no word more in
+this world.
+
+"And so, at six in the morning, a victorious Convention adjourns.
+Report flies over Paris as on golden wings; penetrates the Prisons;
+irradiates the faces of those that were ready to perish: turnkeys and
+_moutons_, fallen from their high estate, look mute and blue. It is
+the 28th day of July, called 10th of Thermidor, year 1794.
+
+"Fouquier had but to identify; his Prisoners being already Out of Law.
+At four in the afternoon, never before were the streets of Paris seen
+so crowded. From the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Révolution,
+for _thither_ again go the Tumbrils this time, it is one dense
+stirring mass; all windows crammed; the very roofs and ridge-tiles
+budding forth human Curiosity, in strange gladness. The
+Death-tumbrils, with their motley Batch of Outlaws, some twenty-three
+or so, from Maximilien to Mayor Fleuriot and Simon the Cordwainer,
+roll on. All eyes are on Robespierre's Tumbril, where he, his jaw
+bound in dirty linen, with his half-dead Brother and half-dead
+Henriot, lie shattered; their 'seventeen hours' of agony about to end.
+The Gendarmes point their swords at him, to show the people which is
+he. A woman springs on the Tumbril; clutching the side of it with one
+hand, waving the other Sibyl-like; and exclaims: 'The death of thee
+gladdens my very heart, _m'enivre de joie_'; Robespierre opened his
+eyes; '_Scélérat_, go down to Hell, with the curses of all wives and
+mothers!'--At the foot of the scaffold, they stretched him on the
+ground till his turn came. Lifted aloft, his eyes again opened; caught
+the bloody axe. Samson wrenched the coat off him; wrenched the dirty
+linen from his jaw: the jaw fell powerless, there burst from him a
+cry;--hideous to hear and see. Samson, thou canst not be too quick!
+
+"Samson's work done, there bursts forth shout on shout of applause.
+Shout, which prolongs itself not only over Paris, but over France, but
+over Europe, and down to this generation. Deservedly, and also
+undeservedly. O unhappiest Advocate of Arras, wert thou worse than
+other Advocates? Stricter man, according to his Formula, to his Credo
+and his Cant, of probities, benevolences, pleasures-of-virtue, and
+suchlike, lived not in that age. A man fitted, in some luckier settled
+age, to have become one of those incorruptible barren Pattern-Figures,
+and have had marble-tablets and funeral-sermons. His poor landlord,
+the Cabinet-maker in the Rue Saint-Honoré, loved him; his Brother died
+for him. May God be merciful to him and to us!
+
+"This is the end of the Reign of Terror."
+
+In 1799 the Place won its name Concorde. The next untoward sight that
+it was to see was Prussian and Russian soldiers encamping there in
+1814 and 1815, and in 1815 the British. By this time it had been
+renamed Place Louis Quinze, which in 1826 was changed to Place Louis
+Seize, and a project was afoot for raising a monument to that
+monarch's memory on the spot where he fell. But the Revolution of 1830
+intervened, and "Concorde" resumed its sway, and in 1836
+Louis-Philippe, the new king (whose father, Philippe Egalité, had
+perished on the guillotine here), erected the Luxor column, which had
+been given to him by Mohammed Ali, and had once stood before the great
+temple of Thebes commemorating on its sides the achievements of
+Rameses II. Since then certain symbolic statues of the great French
+cities (including unhappy Strassburg) have been set up, and the Place
+is a model of symmetry; and at the time that I write (1909) a great
+part of it is enclosed within hoardings for I know not what purpose,
+but I hope a subway for the saving of the lives of pedestrians, for it
+must be the most perilous crossing in the world. One has but to set
+foot in the roadway and straightway motor-cars and cabs spring out of
+the earth and converge upon one from every point of the compass, in
+the amazing French way. Concorde, indeed!
+
+  [Illustration: THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE
+    (LOOKING NORTH)
+    AUTOMOBILE CLUB
+    THE MADELEINE
+    MINISTÈRE DE LA MARINE]
+
+If the Place de la Concorde may be called at night a congress of
+lamps, the Champs-Elysées in the afternoon may be said to be a
+congress of wheels. Wheels in such numbers and revolving at such a
+pace are never seen in England, not even on the Epsom road on Derby
+Day. For there is no speed limit for the French motor-car. Nor have we
+in England anything like this superb roadway, so wide and open,
+climbing so confidently to the Arc de Triomphe, with its groves on
+either side at the foot, and the prosperous white mansions afterwards.
+It is not our way. We English, with our ambition to conquer and
+administer the world, have neglected our own home; the French, with no
+ambition any longer to wander beyond their own borders, have made
+their home beautiful. The energy which we as a nation put into greater
+Britain, they have put into buildings, into statues, into roads. The
+result is that we have the Transvaal, Australia, New Zealand, Canada
+and India, but it is the French, foregoing such possessions and all
+their anxieties, who have the Champs-Elysées.
+
+The Champs-Elysées were planned and laid out by Marie de Médicis in
+1616, and the Cours la Reine, her triple avenue of trees, still
+exists; but Napoleon is the father of the scheme which culminates so
+magnificently in the Arc de Triomphe. The particular children's
+paradise of Paris is in the gardens between the main road and the
+Elysée, where they bowl their hoops and spin their Diabolo spools, and
+ride on the horses of minute round-abouts turned by hand, and watch
+the marionettes, with the tired eyes of Alphonse Daudet, who sits for
+ever, close by, in very white stone, watching them. Here also are the
+open-air cafés, the Ambassadeurs and the Alcazar, while on the other,
+the river, side are the Jardin de Paris, a curiously Lutetian haunt,
+and Ledoyen's, one of the pleasantest of restaurants in summer.
+
+Just above this point we ought to turn to the left to visit the Petit
+Palais and cross the Pont Alexandre III., but since we are on the way
+let us now climb to the Etoile, and on to the Bois, first, however,
+just turning off the Rond-Point for a moment to look at No. 3 Avenue
+Matignon, where Heine (beside whose grave we are to stand on
+Montmartre) suffered and died.
+
+The Place de l'Etoile might be called a kind of gilt-edged Seven
+Dials, since so many roads lead from it. Aristocratic Paris comes to a
+head here. On the right runs from it the Avenue de Friedland, leading
+to the Boulevard Haussmann, which meets with so inglorious an end at
+the Rue Taitbout, but is perhaps to be cut through to join the
+Boulevard Montmartre. Next on the right is the Avenue Hoche, running
+directly into the Parc Monceau, a terrestrial paradise to which good
+mondaines certainly go when they die. A little appartement overlooking
+the Parc Monceau--there is tangible heaven, if you like!
+
+The Parc itself is small but perfect, elegant and expensive and
+verdant. The children (one feels) are all titled, the bonnes are
+visibly miracles of distinction and the babies masses of point lace;
+the ladies on the chairs must be Comtesses or Baronnes, and the air
+is carefully scented. That is the Parc Monceau. It needed but one
+detail to make it complete, and that was supplied a few years ago: a
+statue of Guy de Maupassant, consisting of a block of the most radiant
+marble to be procured, with the novelist as its apex, and at the base
+a Parisienne reading one of his stories. Other statues there are: of
+Ambroise Thomas the composer, to whom Mignon offers a floral tribute;
+of Pailleron the dramatist, attended by an actress; of Gounod
+surrounded by Marguerite, Juliet, Sappho and a little Love; and of
+Chopin seated at the piano, with the figures of Night and Harmony to
+inspire him. These are only a few; but they are typical. Every statue
+in the Parc has a damsel or two, according to his desire. It is the
+mode. There is also a minute lake, on the edge of which have been set
+up a number of Corinthian columns; and before you have been seated a
+minute, an old woman appears from nowhere and demands twopence for
+what she poetically calls an armchair, the extra penny being added as
+a compliment to the two uncomfortable wires at the side which you had
+been wishing you could break off. Such is the Parc Monceau, the like
+of which exists not in London: the ideal pleasaunce of the wealthy.
+Through it, I might add, you may drive; but only at a walking
+pace--_au pas_. If the horse were to trot he might shake some petals
+off.
+
+At the western gate is the Musée Cernuschi, containing a collection of
+oriental pottery and bronzes. I am no connoisseur of these beautiful
+things, but I advise all readers of this book to visit both this
+museum and the Guimet in the Place d'Iéna, which is a treasury of
+Japanese and Chinese art.
+
+Returning to the Etoile, the next avenue is the Avenue de Wagram,
+running north to the Porte d'Asnières, while that which continues the
+Avenue des Champs-Elysées in a straight line west by north is the
+Avenue de la Grande Armée, running to the Porte Maillot and Neuilly.
+On the left the first avenue is the Avenue Marceau, which leads to the
+Place de l'Alma; the next the Avenue d'Iéna, leading to the Place
+d'Iéna; the next, the Avenue Kléber, running straight to the Trocadéro
+(into which I have never penetrated) and Passy, where the English
+live; the next, the Avenue Victor Hugo, which never stops; and finally
+the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, the most beautiful roadway in new
+Paris, along which we shall fare when we have examined the Arc de
+Triomphe.
+
+This trophy of success was begun, as I have said, by Napoleon to
+celebrate the victories of 1805 and 1806; Louis-Philippe finished it
+in 1836. Why Louis XVIII. did not destroy it or complete it as a
+further memorial of the Restoration, I cannot say. Napoleon's original
+idea was, however, tampered with by his successors, who allowed a
+bas-relief representing the Blessings of Peace in 1815 to be included.
+The sculptures are otherwise wholly devoted to the glorification of
+war, Napoleon and the French army; but they are not to be studied
+without serious inconvenience. My advice to the conscientious student
+would be to buy photographs or picture postcards, and examine them at
+home: the Arc de Triomphe is too great and splendid for such detail.
+From the top one can see all round Paris, and though one cannot look
+down on it all as from the Eiffel Tower, or see, beneath one, such an
+interesting district as from Notre Dame, it is yet a wonderfully
+interesting view.
+
+The Avenue du Bois de Boulogne has the finest road in what is, so to
+speak, the Marais of the present day; that is to say, in the modern
+quarter of the aristocratic and wealthy. We have seen riches and rank
+moving from the Marais to the Faubourg St. Germain and from the
+Faubourg St. Germain to the Faubourg St. Honoré, and now we find them
+here, and here they seem likely to remain. And indeed to move farther
+would be foolish, for surely there never was, and could not be, a more
+beautiful city site than this anywhere in the world--with its wide
+cool lawns on either side, and its gay colouring, and the Bois so
+near. Here too, on the heads of the comfortable complacent bonnes, are
+the most radiant caps you ever saw.
+
+The Bois de Boulogne, which takes its name from the little town of
+Boulogne to the south of it, now a suburb of Paris, began its life as
+a Paris park in the eighteen-fifties. Before that it was a forest of
+great trees, which indeed remained until the Franco-Prussian war, when
+they were cut down in order that they might not give cover to the
+enemy. That is why the present groves are all of a size. I cannot
+describe the Bois better than by saying that it is as if Hyde Park,
+Sandown Park, Kempton Park, and Epping Forest were all thrown together
+between Shepherd's Bush, Acton and the river. London would then have
+something like the Bois; and yet it would not be like the Bois at all,
+because it would rapidly become a desert of newspapers and empty
+bottles, whereas, although in the summer populous with picnic parties,
+the Bois is always clean and fresh.
+
+There are several gates to the Bois, but the principal ones are the
+Porte Maillot at the end of the Avenue de la Grande Armée, and the
+Porte Dauphine at the end of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and it is
+through the latter that the thousands of vehicles pass on their way to
+the races on happy Sundays in the spring and autumn. Most English
+people visiting the Bois merely drive to the races and back again; it
+is quite the exception to find any one who really knows the Bois--who
+has walked round the two lakes, Lac Inférieur, which feeds the cascade
+under which one may walk (as at Niagara), and Lac Supérieur; who has
+seen a play in the Théâtre de Verdure, or an exhibition at Bagatelle,
+the villa of the late Sir Richard Wallace, who gave the Champs-Elysées
+its drinking fountains and London the Wallace Collection. Bagatelle
+now belongs to Paris. Every English visitor, however, remembers the
+stone animals, dogs and deer, in the lawn of the Villa de Longchamp on
+the right as one approaches the race-course, and the windmill on the
+left, one of the several inoperative windmills of Paris, which
+marks the site of the old Abbey of Longchamp, founded by Isabella, the
+sister of Saint Louis.
+
+  [Illustration: VÉNUS ET L'AMOUR
+    REMBRANDT
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Bois has two restaurants of the highest quality and
+price--Armenonville, close to the Porte Maillot, a favourite
+dining-place when the Fête de Neuilly is in progress, in the summer,
+and the Pré Catelan, near Lac Inférieur and close to the point where
+the Allée de la Reine-Marguerite and the Allée de Longchamp cross. In
+the summer it is quite the thing for the young bloods who frequent the
+night cafés on Montmartre to drive into the Bois in the early morning
+and drink a glass of milk in the Pré Catelan's dairy, perhaps bringing
+the milkmaids with them.
+
+The Bois has two race-courses, but it is at Longchamp that the
+principal races are run--the Grand Prix and the Conseil Municipal.
+Racing men tell me that the defect of the pari-mutuel system is that
+one cannot arrange one's book, since the odds are always more or less
+of a surprise; but to one who does not bet on horses anywhere but in
+Paris, and who views an English bookmaker with alarm, if not positive
+terror, the pari-mutuel seems perfect in its easy and silent workings
+and the dramatic unfolding of its surprises. For first you have the
+fun of picking out your horse; then quietly putting your money on him,
+to win or for a place; and then, after the race is run and your horse
+is a winner, you have those five to ten delightfully anxious minutes
+while the actuaries are working out the odds.
+
+An experience of my own will illustrate not only the method of the
+system but the haphazard principles on which a stranger's modest
+gambling can be done. On the morning of the races I had visited the
+Louvre with Mr. Dexter, the artist of this book. We had not much time,
+and were therefore proposing to look only at the Leonardos and the
+Rembrandts, which are separated by a considerable stretch of gallery
+hung with other pictures. On leaving the Leonardos we walked briskly
+towards the Dutch end; Mr. Dexter, however, loitered here and there,
+and I was some distance ahead when he called me back to see a Holbein.
+It was worth going back for. In the afternoon at Longchamp, when the
+time came before the race to pick out the horses who were to have the
+honour of carrying my money, I noticed that one of them was named
+Holbein. Having already that day been pleased with a Holbein, I
+accepted the circumstance as a line of guidance, and placed a
+five-franc piece on the brave animal. He came in first, and being an
+outsider his price was 185.50.
+
+The Longchamp course is perfectly managed. There are three places
+where one may go--to the pesage, which costs twenty francs for a
+cavalier and ten francs for a dame; to the pavillon, which is half
+that price; or to the pelouse, where the people congregate, which
+costs a franc. Perfect order reigns everywhere.
+
+For the wanderer who has no carriage awaiting him and no appointments
+to hurry him there are two entertaining things to do when the races
+are over on a fine Sunday afternoon. One is to cross the Seine to
+Suresnes by the adjacent bridge and sitting at the café that faces it,
+watch the crowd and the traffic, for this is on a main road from Paris
+to the country; or walking the other way, one may enjoy a similar
+spectacle at the Café du Sport outside the Porte Maillot and study at
+one's ease the happy French in holiday mood--the husbands with their
+wives and their two children, and the Sunday lovers arm in arm.
+
+And now we return to the Champs-Elysées in order to look at some
+pictures and admire a beautiful bridge. For the Avenue Alexandre III.,
+as for the Pont Alexandre III., Paris is indebted to the 1900
+Exhibition. These are her permanent gains, and very valuable they are.
+Of the two white palaces on either side of this green and spacious
+Avenue, that on the right, as we face the golden dome of the
+Invalides, is the home of the Salon and of various exhibitions. I say
+Salon, but Paris now has many Salons, two of which, in more or less
+amicable rivalry, occupy this building at the same time. In one, the
+Salon proper, the Salon of the old guard, the Royal Academicians of
+France, there are miles of paint but few experiments; in the other,
+where the more independent spirits--the New Englishers, so to
+speak--hang their works in personal groups, there are fewer miles but
+more outrages. For outrages, however, pure and simple (or even impure
+and complex), I recommend the Salon that is now held in the early
+spring in some of the old Exhibition buildings on the banks of the
+river, close to the Pont d'Alexandre III. I have seen pictures
+there--nudities, in the manner of Aztec decorations, by the youngest
+French artists of the moment--which made one want to scream. It was
+said once that the French knew how to paint but not what to paint, and
+the English what to paint but not how to paint it. Since then there
+has been such a fusing of nationalities, such increased and humble
+appreciation on the part of the English painters of the best French
+methods, that one can no longer talk in that kind of cast-iron
+epigram; but it is impossible to see some of the crude innovating work
+now being done without the reflection that France is rapidly and
+successfully creating a school of artists who not only know not what
+to paint but how to paint too.
+
+The Palais des Beaux-Arts, which was built for the collection of
+pictures at the Exhibition of 1900, is now a permanent gallery for the
+preservation of the various works of art acquired from time to time by
+the municipality of Paris, thus differing from the Luxembourg
+collections, which are national. The Palais has become a kind of
+brother of the Carnavalet, the one being the historical museum of
+Paris and the other--the Palais--the artistic museum of Paris. The
+Palais undoubtedly contains much that is not of the highest quality,
+but no one who is interested in modern French painting and drawing can
+afford to neglect it, while the recent acquisition of the Collection
+Dutuit, consisting chiefly of small but choice pictures of the Dutch
+masters, including a picture of Rembrandt with his dog, from his own
+hand, has added a rather necessary touch of antiquity.
+
+One of the special rooms is devoted to pictures of the opulent Félix
+Ziem, painter of Venetian sunsets and the sky at its most golden,
+wherever it may be found, who is still (1909) living in honourable
+state on those slopes of the mountain of fame which are reserved for
+the few rare spirits that become old masters before they die, and who
+presented his pictures to Paris a few years ago; another room is
+filled with the works of the late Jean Jacques Henner, whose pallid
+nudities, emerging from voluptuous gloom, still look yearningly at one
+from the windows of so many Paris picture dealers. Henner, I must
+confess, is not a painter whom I greatly esteem; but few modern French
+artists were more popular in their day. He died in 1905, and this gift
+of his work was made by his son. Other French artists to have rooms of
+their own in the Palais are Jean Carriès the sculptor, who died in
+1894 at the age of thirty-nine, after an active career in the
+modelling of quaint and grotesque and realistic figures, one of the
+best known and most charming of his many works being "La Fillette au
+Pantin" (No. 1338 in the collection); and Jules Dalou (1838-1902),
+also a sculptor, a man of more vigour although of less charm than his
+neighbour in the Palais. That strange gift of untiring abundant
+creativeness which the French have so notably, Dalou also shared, his
+busy fingers having added thousands of new figures to those that
+already congest life, while he modelled also many a well-known head.
+I think that I like best his "Esquisses de Travailleurs". Nothing
+here, however, is so fascinating as Dalou's own head by Rodin in the
+Luxembourg.
+
+Of the picture collection proper I am saying but little, for it is in
+a fluid state, and even in the catalogue before me, the latest
+edition, there is no mention of several of its finest treasures: among
+them Manet's portrait of Théodore Duret, a sketch of an old peasant
+woman's hand by Madame David, a Rip Van Winkle by that modern master
+of the grotesque and Rabelaisian, Jean Véber, and one of Mr. Sargent's
+Venetian sketches--the racing gondoliers. For the most part it is like
+revisiting the past few Salons, except that the pictures are more
+choice and less numerous; but one sees many old friends, and all the
+expected painters are here. It is of course the surprises that one
+remembers--the three Daumiers, for example, particularly "L'Amateur
+d'Estampes," reproduced opposite page 286, and "Les Joueurs d'Echecs,"
+and the fine collection of the drawings of Puvis de Chavannes and
+Daniel Vierge. I was also much taken with some topographical drawings
+by Adrian Karbowski--No. 494 in the catalogue. Other pictures and
+drawings which should be seen are those by Cazin (a sunset),
+Pointelin, Steinlen (some work-girls), Sisley, Lebourg, and
+Harpignies, who exhibits water-colours separated in time by fifty-nine
+years, 1849 to 1908. The drawings on a whole are far better than the
+paintings.
+
+In the collection Dutuit look at Ruisdael's "Environs de Haarlem,"
+Terburg's "La Fiancée," Hobbema's "Les Moulins" and a woodland scene,
+Pot's "Portrait of a Man," Van de Velde's landscape sketches, and the
+Rembrandt. The rooms downstairs are not worth visiting.
+
+Among the statuary, some of which is very good, particularly a new
+unsigned and uncatalogued Joan of Arc, is a naked Victor Hugo holding
+a MS. in his hand; while Frémiet of course confronts the door, this
+time with a really fine George and the Dragon, George having a spear
+worthy of the occasion, and not the short and useless broadsword which
+he brandishes on the English sovereign.
+
+On my last visit to this thinly populated gallery I was for some time
+one of three visitors, until suddenly the vast spaces were humanised
+by the gracious and winsome presence of a band of Isidora Duncan's gay
+little dancers, with a kindly companion to tell them about the
+pictures, and--what interested them more--the statues. These tiny
+lissome creatures flitting among the cold rigid marbles I shall not
+soon forget.
+
+And so we come to the Pont Alexandre III., the bridge whose width and
+radiance are an ever fresh surprise and joy, and make our way to the
+Invalides, at the end of the prospect, across the great Esplanade des
+Invalides, so quiet to-day, but for a month of every year, so noisy
+and variegated with round-abouts and booths. It is, by the way, well
+worth while, whenever one is in Paris, to find out what fair is being
+held. For somewhere or other a fair is always being held. You can get
+the particulars from the invaluable _Bottin_ or _Bottin Mondain_,
+which every restaurant keeps, and which is even exposed to public
+scrutiny on a table at the Gare du Nord, and for all I know to the
+contrary, at the other stations too. This is one of the lessons which
+might be learned from Paris by London, where you ask in vain for a
+_Post Office Directory_ in all but the General Post Office. _Bottin_,
+who knows all, will give you the time and place of every fair. The
+best is the Fête de Neuilly, which is held in the summer, just outside
+the Porte Maillot, but all the arrondissements have their own. They
+are crowded scenes of noisy life; but they are amusing too, and their
+popularity shows you how juvenile is the Frenchman's heart.
+
+One should enter the Invalides from the great Place and round off the
+inspection of the Musée de l'Armée by a visit to Napoleon's tomb;
+that, at least, is the symmetrical order. The Hôtel des Invalides
+proper, which set the fashion in military hospitals, was built by
+Louis XIV., who may be seen on his horse in bas-relief on the
+principal façade. The building once sheltered and tended 7,000 wounded
+soldiers; but there are now only fifty. From its original function as
+a military hospital for any kind of disablement it has dwindled to a
+home for a few incurables; while the greater portion of the building
+is now given up to collections and to civic offices. There could be no
+greater contrast than that between the imposing architecture of the
+main structure and the charming domestic façade in the Boulevard des
+Invalides, which is one of the pleasantest of the old Paris
+buildings and has some of the simplicity of an English almshouse.
+
+  [Illustration: LES PÈLERINS D'EMMAÜS
+    REMBRANDT
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+It is not until we enter the great Court of Honour that we catch sight
+of Napoleon, whose figure dominates the opposite wall. Thereafter one
+thinks of little else. Louis XIV. disappears.
+
+Passing some dingy frescoes which the weather has treated vilely, we
+enter the Musée Historique on the left--unless one has an overwhelming
+passion for artillery, armour and the weapons of savages, in which
+case one turns to the right. I mention the alternative because there
+is far too much to see on one visit, and it is well to concentrate on
+the more interesting. For me guns and armour and the weapons of
+savages are without any magic while there are to be seen such human
+relics as have been brought together in the Musée Historique on the
+opposite side of the Court. The whole place, by the way, is a model
+for the Carnavalet, in that everything is precisely and clearly
+labelled. This, since it is a favourite resort of simple
+folk--soldiers and their parents and sweethearts--is a thoughtful
+provision.
+
+The Musée Historique has at every turn something profoundly
+interesting, and incidentally it tells something of the men from whom
+numbers of Paris streets take their names; but the real and poignant
+interest is Napoleon. The Longwood room is to me too painful. The
+project of the admirable administrator has been to illustrate the
+whole pageant of French arms; but the Man of Destiny quickly becomes
+all-powerful, and one finds oneself looking only for signs and tokens
+of his personality. So it should be, under the shadow of the Dome
+which covers his ashes. I would personally go farther and collect at
+the Invalides all the Napoleonic relics that one now must visit so
+many places to see--the Carnavalet, Fontainebleau, the Musée Grévin,
+our own United Service Museum in Whitehall (as if we had the right to
+a single article from St. Helena!), Madame Tussaud's, and Versailles.
+There is even a room at the Arts Décoratifs devoted nominally to
+Napoleon, but it has few articles of personal interest and none of any
+intimacy--merely splendid costumes for occasions and ceremonials of
+State, with a few of Josephine's lace caps among them. Its purpose is
+to illustrate the Empire rather than the Emperor, but the Invalides
+should have what there is.
+
+At the Invalides you may, I suppose, see in three or four rooms more
+Napoleonic relics of a personal character than anywhere else. In
+Whitehall is the chair he died in; but here is his garden-seat from
+St. Helena, one bar of which was removed to allow him as he sat to
+pass his arm through and be more at his ease as he looked out to the
+ocean that was to do nothing for him. At Whitehall is the skeleton of
+his horse Marengo; here is the saddle. Here are his grey redingote and
+more than one of his hats. Among the relics in the special Napoleonic
+rooms those of his triumph and his fall are mixed. Here is the bullet
+that wounded him at Ratisbon; here are his telescopes and his maps,
+his travelling desks and his pistols; here are the toys of the little
+Duke of Reichstadt; here is the walking stick on which Napoleon
+leaned at St. Helena, his dressing-gown, his bed, his armchair and his
+death-mask. Here are the railings of the tomb at St. Helena, and a
+case of leaves and stones and pieces of wood and other natural
+surroundings of the same spot. Here also is the pall that covered his
+coffin on the way to its final burial under the Dome close by.
+
+It is a fitting end to the study of these storied corridors to pass to
+the tomb of the protagonist of the drama we have been contemplating.
+The Emperor's remains were brought to Paris in 1840, nineteen years
+after his death at St. Helena. Thackeray, in his _Second Funeral of
+Napoleon_, wrote a vivid, although to my mind hateful, description of
+the ceremonial: a piece of complacent flippancy, marked by the worst
+kind of French irreverence, which shows him in his least admirable
+mood, particularly when he is pleased to be amusing over the
+difference between the features of the Emperor dead and living. None
+the less it is an absorbing narrative.
+
+One looks down upon the sarcophagus, which lies in a marble well. It
+is simple, solemn and severe, and to a few persons, not Titmarshes,
+inexpressibly melancholy. The Emperor's words from his will, "Je
+désire que mes cendres reposent sur les bords de la Seine, au milieu
+de ce peuple français que j'ai tant aimé," are placed at the entrance
+to the crypt. He had not the Invalides in mind when he wrote them; but
+one feels that the Invalides is as right a spot for him as any in this
+land of short memories and light mockeries.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS TRIBUTARIES
+
+     An Aristocratic Quarter--Adrienne Lecouvreur--A Grisly
+     Museum--A Changeless City--The Pasteur Institute--The Golden
+     Key--The Stoppeur--Sterne--The Beaux Arts--A Wilderness of
+     Copies--Voltaire Clad and Naked--The Mint--An Inquisitive
+     Visitor--Bad Money.
+
+
+From the Invalides the Boulevard St. Germain, the west to east highway
+of the Surrey side of Paris, is easily gained; but it is not in itself
+very interesting. The interesting streets either cross it or run more
+or less parallel with it, such as the old and winding Rue de Grenelle,
+which we come to at once, the home of the Parisian aristocracy after
+its removal from the Marais. The houses are little changed: merely the
+tenants; and certain Embassies are now here. No. 18 was once the Hôtel
+de Beauharnais, the home of the fair Joséphine; at the Russian
+Embassy, No. 79, the Duchesse d'Estrées lived. In an outhouse at No.
+115 was buried in unconsecrated ground Adrienne Lecouvreur, the
+tragedienne who made tragedy, the beloved of Maréchal Saxe. Scribe's
+drama has made her story known--how her heart was too much for her,
+and how Christian burial was refused her by a Christian priest.
+
+The Rue St. Dominique, parallel with the Rue de Grenelle nearer the
+river, is equally old and august. At No. 13 lived Madame de Genlis,
+the monitress of French youth. Still nearer the river runs the long
+Rue de l'Université, which also has an illustrious past and a
+picturesque present, some great French noble having built nearly every
+house.
+
+One of the first old streets to cross the Boulevard St. Germain is the
+Rue du Bac, a roadway made when the Palace of the Tuileries was
+building, to convey materials from Vaugiraud to the _bac_ (or ferry
+boat) which crossed the Seine where the Pont Royal now stands. This
+street also is full of ancient palaces and convents. Chateaubriand
+died at 118-120. At 128 is the Séminaires des Missions Etrangères,
+with a terrible little museum called the Chambre des Martyrs, very
+French in character, displaying instruments of torture which have been
+used upon missionaries in China and other countries inimical (like
+poor Adrienne's priest) to Christianity. The Rue des Saints-Pères
+resembles the Rue du Bac, but is more attractive to the loiterer
+because it has perhaps the greatest number of old curiosity shops of
+any street in Paris. They touch each other: perhaps they take in each
+other's dusting. I never saw a customer enter; but that of course
+means nothing. One might be sure of finding a case made of peau de
+chagrin here and be equally sure that Balzac had trodden this
+pavement before you. You will see, however, nothing or very little
+that is beautiful, because Paris does not care much for sheer beauty.
+
+The Rue des Saints-Pères runs upwards into the Rue de Sèvres, where
+old convents cluster and the Bon Marché raises its successful modern
+bulk. It was in the Abbaye-aux-Bois, once at the corner of the Rue de
+Sèvres and the Rue de la Chaise, but now buried beneath a gigantic
+block of new flats, that Madame Récamier lived from 1814 until her
+death in 1849, visited latterly every day by the faithful
+Chateaubriand. M. Georges Cain has a charming chapter on this
+friendship and its scene in his _Promenades dans Paris_, of which an
+English translation, entitled _Walks in Paris_, has recently been
+published.
+
+Returning to the Boulevard St. Germain, which we leave as often as we
+touch it, I remember that, on the south side, between the Invalides
+end and the statue of the inventor of the semaphore, used to be a
+little shop devoted to the sale of trophies of Joan of Arc. And since
+it used to be there, it follows that it is there still, for nothing in
+Paris ever changes. One of the great charms of Paris is that it is
+always the same. I can think of hardly any shop that has changed in
+the last ten years. This means, I suppose, that the French rarely die.
+How can they, disliking as they do to leave Paris? It is the English
+and the Scotch, born to forsake their homes and live uncomfortably
+foreign lives, who die.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PONT ALEXANDRE III
+    (FROM THE EAST)
+    EIFFEL TOWER
+    TROCADÉRO]
+
+If one is interested in seeing the Pasteur Institute, now is the
+time, for it is not far from the Rue de Sèvres, in the Rue Falguière,
+named after Falguière the sculptor of the memorial to Pasteur in the
+Place Breteuil: one of the best examples of recent Paris statuary,
+with a charming shepherd boy playing his pipe to his flock on one side
+of the pediment, and grimmer scenes of disease on the others. This
+monument, however, is some distance from the Institute, the Place
+Breteuil being the first carrefour in that vast and endless avenue
+which leads southwards from Napoleon's tomb. The Institute itself has
+a spirited statue of Jupille the shepherd, one of its first patients,
+in his struggle with the wolf that bit him. Pasteur's tomb is here,
+but I have not seen it, as I arrived on the wrong day.
+
+One of the most attractive of the Boulevard St. Germain's byways is
+entered just round the corner of the Rue de Rennes. This is the Cour
+du Dragon, which is not only a relic of old Paris, but old Paris is
+still visible hard at work in it. The Cour du Dragon is a narrow court
+gained by an archway over which a red dragon perches, holding up the
+balcony with his vigorous pinions. It was the Hôtel Taranne in the
+reigns of Charles VI. and VII. and Louis XI.; later it became a famous
+riding and fencing school. It is now a cheerful nest of
+artisans--coppersmiths, locksmiths, coal merchants and the like, who
+fill it with brisk hammerings, while at the windows above, with their
+green shutters, the songs of caged birds mingle in the symphony.
+
+As in all Parisian streets or courts where signs are hung, the golden
+key is prominent. (There is one in Mr. Dexter's picture of the Rue de
+l'Hôtel de Ville.) What the proportion of locksmiths is to the
+population of Paris I cannot say; but their pretty symbol is to be
+seen everywhere. The reason of their numbers is not very mysterious
+when we recollect that practically every one that one meets in this
+city, and certainly all the people of the middling and working
+classes, live in flats, and all want keys. The streets and streets of
+the small houses with which East London is covered are unknown in
+Paris, where every façade is but the mask which hides vast tenements
+packed with families. No wonder then that the serrurier is so busy.
+
+Another sign which probably puzzles many English people is that of the
+stoppeur. Bellows' dictionary does not recognise the word. What is a
+stoppeur and what does he stop? I discovered the answer in the most
+practical way possible; for a Frenchman, in a crowd, helped me to it
+by pushing his lighted cigar into my back and burning a hole in it,
+right in the middle of the coat, where a patch would necessarily show.
+I was in despair until the femme de chambre reassured me. It was
+nothing, she said: all that was needed was a stoppeur. She would take
+the coat herself. It seems that the stoppeur's craft is that of
+mending holes so deftly that you would not know there had been any. He
+ascertains the pattern by means of a magnifying glass, and then
+extracts threads from some part of the garment that does not show and
+weaves them in. I paid three francs and have been looking for the
+injured spot ever since, but cannot find it. It is a modern miracle.
+
+Diagonally opposite the Court of the Dragon is the Church of St.
+Germain--not the St. Germain who owns the church at the east end of
+the Louvre, but St. Germain des Prés, a lesser luminary. It has no
+particular beauty, but a number of frescoes by Flandrin, the pupil of
+Ingres, give it a cachet. Flandrin's bust is to be observed on the
+north wall. The frescoes cannot be seen except under very favourable
+conditions, and therefore for me the greatness of Flandrin has to be
+sought in his drawings at the Luxembourg and the Louvre--sufficient
+proof of his exquisite hand.
+
+Before descending the Rue Bonaparte to the river, let us ascend it to
+see the great church of St. Sulpice and its paintings by Delacroix in
+the Chapel of the Holy Angels. Under the Convention St. Sulpice was
+the Temple of Victory, and here General Bonaparte was feasted in 1799.
+The church is famous for its music and an organ second only to that of
+St. Eustache. And now let us descend the Rue Bonaparte to the quais,
+where several buildings await us, beginning with the Beaux-Arts at the
+foot of the street; but first the Rue Jacob, which bisects the Rue
+Bonaparte, should be looked at, for it has had many illustrious
+inhabitants, including our own Laurence Sterne, who lodged here, at
+No. 46, in the Hôtel of his friend Madame Rambouillet (of the easy
+manners) when he was studying the French for _A Sentimental Journey_.
+It was here perhaps that he penned the famous opening sentence: "'They
+order,' said I, 'these things better in France'"--which no other
+writer on Paris has succeeded in forgetting. At No. 20 lived Adrienne
+Lecouvreur, and hither Voltaire must often have come, for he greatly
+admired her. At No. 7 is a fine old staircase and an old well in the
+court.
+
+The Palais des Beaux-Arts, where the Royal Academy Schools of Paris
+are situated, is an unexhilarating building containing a great number
+of unexciting paintings. Indeed, I think that no public edifice of
+Paris is so dreary: within and without one has a sense not exactly of
+decay but certainly of neglect. This is not the less odd when one
+thinks of the purpose of the institution, which is to foster the arts,
+and when one thinks also of the spotless perfection in which the Petit
+Palais, the latest of the Parisian picture galleries, is maintained.
+The spirit, however, is willing, if the flesh is weak, for in the
+first and second courts are examples of the best French architecture,
+and a bust of Jean Goujon is let into the wall of the Musée des
+Antiques. The building contains a number of casts of the best
+sculptures and an amphitheatre with Delaroche's pageant of painters on
+the hemicycle and Ingres' Victory of Romulus over the Sabines opposite
+it; but there is not always enough light to see either well. For the
+best view of Delaroche's great work one must go upstairs to the
+Gallery. The library also is upstairs, with many thousand of valuable
+works on art and a collection of drawings by the masters, access to
+which is made easy to genuine students.
+
+By returning to the first court we come to the Musée de la
+Renaissance, which now occupies an old chapel of the Couvent des
+Petits-Augustins, on the site of which the Palais de Beaux-Arts was
+built. Here are more casts and copies, and there are still more in the
+adjoining Cour du Mûrier, where stands the memorial of Henri Regnault,
+the painter, and the students who died with him during the defence of
+Paris in 1870-71.
+
+We then enter the Salle de Melpomène, so called from the dominating
+cast of the Melpomene at the Louvre, and are straightway among what
+seem at the first glance to be old friends from all the best galleries
+of the world but too quickly are revealed as counterfeits. Rembrandt's
+School of Anatomy and the Syndics, our own National Gallery Correggio,
+the Dresden Raphael, the Wallace Collection Velasquez (the Lady with a
+Fan), one of Hals' groups of arquebusiers, and Paul Potter's Bull: all
+are here, together with countless others, all the work of Beaux-Arts
+students, and some exceedingly good, but also (like most copies)
+exceedingly depressing.
+
+In other rooms almost pitch dark are modelled studies of expression
+and paintings which have won the Grand Prix of Rome during the past
+two hundred years. It is odd to notice how few names one recognises:
+it is as though, like the Newdigate, this prize were an end in itself.
+
+Having contemplated the statue of Voltaire in his robes outside the
+Institut, the next building of importance after the Beaux Arts, you
+may, if you so desire, gaze upon the same philosopher in a state of
+nature by entering the Institut itself, and ascending to its
+Bibliothèque. There he sits, the skinny cynic, among the books which
+he wrote and the books which he read and the books which would not
+have been written but for him. I was glad to see him thus, for it
+showed me where our own Arouet, Mr. Bernard Shaw, found his
+inspiration when he too subjected recently his economical frame to the
+maker of portraits. Mr. Shaw sat, however, only to a photographer
+(although a very good one, Mr. Coburn); when he visited Rodin it was
+for the head, a replica of which may be seen at the Luxembourg.
+Speaking of heads, the Institut is a wilderness of them: heads line
+the stairs; heads line the walls not only of its own Bibliothèque but
+of the Bibliothèque de Mazarin, which also is here, a haven for every
+student that cares to seek it: heads of the great Frenchmen of all
+time and of the Cæsars too.
+
+The Pont des Arts, which leads direct from the old Louvre to the
+Institut (a connection, if ever, no longer of any importance), is for
+foot passengers only. One is therefore more at ease there in observing
+the river than on the noisy bridge of stone. But it is inexcusably
+ugly and leaves one continually wondering what Napoleon was about to
+allow it to be built--and of iron too--in his day of good taste.
+Looking up stream, the Pont Neuf is close by with the thin green end
+of the Cité's wedge protruding under it and, in winter, Henri IV.
+riding proudly above. In summer, as Mr. Dexter's drawing shows, he is
+hidden by leaves. A basin has been constructed at this point from
+which the tide is excluded, and here are washing houses and swimming
+baths; for Parisians, having a river, use it.
+
+  [Illustration: LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR
+    J. VAN EYCK
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Hôtel des Monnaies, close by the Beaux Arts, is another surprise.
+One would expect in such a country as France, with its meticulously
+exact control of its public offices, that its Mint, the institution in
+which its money was made, would be a miracle of precision and
+efficiency. Efficiency it may have; but its proceedings are casual
+beyond belief: the workmen in the furnaces loaf and smoke and stare at
+the visitors and exchange comments on them; the floors are cluttered
+up with lumber; the walls are dirty; the doors do not fit. A very
+considerable amount of work seems to be accomplished--there are
+machines constantly in movement which turn out scores of coins a
+minute, not only for France but for her few and dispiriting colonies
+and for other countries; and yet the feeling which one has is that
+France here is noticeably below herself.
+
+I was shown round by a very charming attendant, who handled the new
+coins as though he loved them and took precisely that pride in the
+place that the Government seems to lack. The design on the French
+franc, although it ought to be cut, I think, a little deeper, a little
+more boldly, is very attractive, both obverse and reverse, and it is a
+pleasant sight to see the bright creatures tumbling out of the
+machine as fast as one can count. Pleasanter still is it to the frail
+human eye when the same process is repeated with golden
+Louis'--baskets full of which stand negligently about as though it
+were the cave of the Forty Thieves.
+
+An Englishman's perhaps indiscreet questions as to what precautions
+were taken to prevent leakage amused the guide beyond all reason. "It
+is impossible," he said; "the coins are weighed. They must correspond
+to the prescribed weight." "But who," my countryman went on, in the
+relentless English way, "checks the weigher?" "Another," said the
+guide. "But a time must come," continued the Briton, who probably had
+a business of his own and had suffered, "when there is no one left to
+check--when the last man of all is officiating: how then?" Our guide
+laughed very happily, and repeated that there were no thieves there;
+and I daresay he is right. "Perhaps," I said, to the English
+inquisitor, "perhaps, like assistants in sweet shops, they are allowed
+at first to help themselves so much that they acquire a disgust for
+money." He looked at me with eyes of stone. I think he had Scotch
+blood. "Perhaps," he said at last.
+
+My own contribution to the guide's entertainment was the production,
+before a machine that was shooting five-franc pieces into a bowl at
+the rate of one a second, of the four bad (démonétisé) coins of the
+same value which had been forced upon me during the few days I had
+then been in Paris. They gave immense delight. Several mintners (or
+whatever they are called) stopped working in order to join in the
+inspection. It was the general opinion that I had been badly treated:
+although, of course, I ought to have known. Three of the coins were
+simply those of other nations no longer current in France, and for
+them I could get from two to three francs each at an exchange. Unless,
+of course, a man of the world put in, I liked to sell them to a
+waiter, and then I should get perhaps a slightly better price. "Be
+careful, however," said he, "that he does not give them back to you in
+the next change." The fourth coin was frankly base metal and ought not
+to have taken in a child. That, by the way, was given to me at a Post
+Office, the one under the Bourse, and I find that Post Offices are
+notorious for this habit with foreigners. The mintners generally
+agreed that it was a scandal, but they did so without heat--bearing
+indeed this misfortune (not their own) very much as their countryman
+La Rochefoucauld had observed men to do.
+
+After the coins we saw the medal-stampers at work, each seated in a
+little hole in the ground before his press. The French have a natural
+gift for the designing of medals, and they are interested in them as
+souvenirs not only of public but of private events--such as silver
+weddings, birthdays and other anniversaries. Upstairs there is a
+collection of medals by the best designers--such as Roty, Patey,
+Carial, Chaplain, Dupuis, Dupré--many of them charming. Here also are
+collections of the world's coinage and of historical French medals.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE LATIN QUARTER
+
+     Old Prints--Procope, Tortoni, and Le Père Lunette--The
+     Luxembourg Palace--Rodin--Modern Paintings--A Sinister
+     Crypt--A Garden of Sculpture--The Students of the Latin
+     Quarter--The Sorbonne--A Beautiful Museum--The Cluny's
+     Treasures--Marat and Danton--Old Streets and Dirty--The
+     River Bièvre--Inspired Topography--Dante in Paris.
+
+
+The high road from the centre of Paris to the Latin Quarter is across
+the Pont du Carrousel and up the narrow Rue Mazarine, which skirts the
+Institut. We have seen on the Quai des Célestins the site of one of
+Molière's theatres: here, at Nos. 12-14, is the house in which he
+established his first theatre, on the last day of 1643. The Rue
+Mazarin runs into the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie Française, at No. 14
+in which was that theatre, whose successor stands at the foot of the
+Rue Richelieu. Parallel with the Rue Mazarin is the Rue de Seine,
+interesting for its old print shops, not the least interesting
+department of which is the portfolios containing students' sketches,
+some of them very good. (I might equally have said some of them very
+bad.)
+
+Crossing the Boulevard St. Germain we climb what is now the Rue de
+l'Odéon to the Place and theatre of that name, with the statue of
+Augier the dramatist before it. The Place de l'Odéon demands some
+attention, for at No. 1, now the Café Voltaire, was once the famous
+Café Procope, very significant in the eighteenth century, the resort
+of Voltaire and the Encyclopædists, and later of the Revolutionaries.
+Camille Desmoulins indeed made it his home. You may see within
+portraits of these old famous habitués. Procopio, a Sicilian who
+founded his establishment for the shelter of poor actors and students
+(whom Paris then loathed in private life), was the father of all the
+Paris cafés.
+
+The Café Procope was to men of intellect what some few years later
+Tortoni's was to men of fashion. The Café Tortoni was in the Boulevard
+des Italiens. Let Captain Gronow tell its history: "About the
+commencement of the present [nineteenth] century, Tortoni's, the
+centre of pleasure, gallantry, and entertainment, was opened by a
+Neapolitan, who came to Paris to supply the Parisians with good ice.
+The founder of this celebrated café was by name Veloni, an Italian,
+whose father lived with Napoleon from the period he invaded Italy,
+when First Consul, down to his fall. Young Veloni brought with him his
+friend Tortoni, an industrious and intelligent man. Veloni died of an
+affection of the lungs, shortly after the café was opened, and left
+the business to Tortoni; who, by dint of care, economy, and
+perseverance, made his café renowned all over Europe. Towards the end
+of the first Empire, and during the return of the Bourbons, and Louis
+Philippe's reign, this establishment was so much in vogue that it was
+difficult to get an ice there; after the opera and theatres were over,
+the Boulevards were literally choked up by the carriages of the great
+people of the court and the Faubourg St. Germain bringing guests to
+Tortoni's.
+
+"In those days clubs did not exist in Paris, consequently the gay
+world met there. The Duchess of Berri, with her suite, came nearly
+every night incognito; the most beautiful women Paris could boast of,
+old maids, dowagers, and old and young men, pouring out their
+sentimental twaddle, and holding up to scorn their betters,
+congregated here. In fact, Tortoni's became a sort of club for
+fashionable people; the saloons were completely monopolised by them,
+and became the rendez-vous of all that was gay, and I regret to add,
+immoral.
+
+"Gunter, the eldest son of the founder of the house in Berkeley
+Square, arrived in Paris about this period, to learn the art of making
+ice; for prior to the peace, our London ices and creams were
+acknowledged, by the English as well as foreigners, to be detestable.
+In the early part of the day, Tortoni's became the rendez-vous of
+duellists and retired officers, who congregated in great numbers to
+breakfast; which consisted of cold pâtés, game, fowl, fish, eggs,
+broiled kidneys, iced champagne, and liqueurs from every part of the
+globe.
+
+"Though Tortoni succeeded in amassing a large fortune, he suddenly
+became morose, and showed evident signs of insanity: in fact, he was
+the most unhappy man on earth. On going to bed one night, he said to
+the lady who superintended the management of his café, 'It is time for
+me to have done with the world'. The lady thought lightly of what he
+said, but upon quitting her apartment on the following morning, she
+was told by one of the waiters that Tortoni had hanged himself."
+
+Some one should write a book--but perhaps it has been done--on the
+great restaurateurs. Paris would, of course, provide the lion's share;
+but there would be plenty of material to collect in other capitals.
+The life of our own Nicol of the Café Royal, for example, would not be
+without interest; and what of Sherry and Delmonico?
+
+While on the subject of meeting-places of remarkable persons, I might
+say that a latter-day resort of intellectuals who have allowed the
+world and its temptations to be too much for them is not so very far
+away from us at this point--the cabaret of Le Père Lunette at No. 4
+Rue des Anglais. I do not say that this is a modern Procope, but it
+has some of the same characteristics: men of genius have met here and
+illustrious portraits are on the wall; but they are not frescoes such
+as could be included in this book, for old Father Spectacles puts
+satire before propriety.
+
+In the colonnade round the Odéon theatre are bookstalls, chiefly
+offering new books at very low rates. We emerge on the south side in
+the Rue Vaugiraud, with the Médicis fountain of the Luxembourg just
+across the road. The Luxembourg Palace was built by Marie de Médicis,
+the widow of Henri IV., and it fulfilled the functions of a palace
+until the Revolution, when, prisons being more important than palaces,
+it became a prison. Among those conveyed hither were the Vicomte de
+Beauharnais and his wife Joséphine, who was destined one day to be
+anything but a prisoner. After the Revolution the Luxembourg became
+the Palace of the Directoire and then the Palace of the First Consul.
+In 1800 Napoleon moved to the Tuileries, and a little while afterwards
+he established the Senate here, and here it is still. I cannot
+describe the Palace, for I have never been in it, but the Musée I know
+well.
+
+The Luxembourg galleries are dedicated to modern art. They have
+nothing earlier than the nineteenth century, and may be said to carry
+on the history of French painting from the point where it is left in
+Room VIII. at the Louvre, while little is quite so modern as the
+permanent portion of the Petit Palais. One plunges from the street
+directly into a hall of very white sculpture, which for the moment
+affects the sight almost like the beating wings of gulls. The
+difference between French and English sculpture, which is largely the
+difference between nakedness and nudity, literally assaults the eye
+for the moment; and then the more beautiful work quietly begins to
+assert itself--Rodin's "Pensée," on the left, holding the attention
+first and gently soothing the bewildered vision. Rodin indeed
+dominates this room, for here are not only his "Pensée" (the "Penseur"
+is not so very far away, two hundred yards or so, at the Panthéon),
+but his "John the Baptist," gaunt and urgent in the wilderness (with
+Dubois' "John the Baptist as a boy" near by, to show from what
+material prophets are evolved) and the exquisite "Danaïdes" and the
+"Age d'Airain," and the giant heads of Hugo and Rochefort, and the
+little delicate sensitive Don Quixotic head of Dalou the sculptor,
+which has just been added, and the George Wyndham and the G.B.S. and
+other recent portraits; while through the doorway to the next room one
+sees the "Baiser," immense and passionate. I reproduce both the
+"Baiser," opposite page 294, and the "Pensée," opposite page 46.
+
+Other work here that one recalls is the charming group by Frémiet,
+"Pan and the Bear Cubs," Dubois' fascinating "Florentine Singing-boy
+of the Fifteenth Century," a peasant by Dalou, a Great Dane and
+puppies by Le Courtier, and the very beautiful head in the doorway to
+Room I.--"Femme de Marin," by Cazin the painter. But other visitors,
+other tastes, of course.
+
+Before entering Room I. there are two small rooms on the right of the
+sculpture gallery which should be entered, one given up to the more
+famous Impressionists and one to foreign work. The chief
+Impressionists are Degas, Renoir, Monet, Sisley and their companions,
+almost all of whom seem to me to have painted better elsewhere than
+here. Monet's "Yachts in the River" rise before me, as I write, with
+the warm sun upon them, and I still see in the mind's eye the torso of
+a young woman by Legros: but this room always depresses me, the effect
+largely I believe of the antipathetic Renoir. The other room has a
+floating population. Recently the painters have been Belgian: but at
+another time they may be German or English, when the Belgians will
+recede to the cellars or be lent to provincial galleries.
+
+The pictures in the Luxembourg are many, but the arresting hand is too
+seldom extended. Cleverness, the bane of French art, dominates. In the
+first room Rodin's "Baiser" is greater than any painting; but
+Harpignies' "Lever de Lune" is here, and here also is one of
+Pointelin's sombre desolate moorlands. In a glass case some delicate
+bowls by Dammouse are worth attention; but I think his work at the
+Arts Décoratifs at the Louvre is better. The second room is notable
+for the Fantin-Latour drawings in the middle, with others by Flandrin
+and Meissonier; the third for Carolus-Duran's "Vieux Lithographe" and
+a case of drawings by modern black and white masters, including Legros
+and Steinlen; here also is another Pointelin. In Room IV. is a coast
+scene--"Les Falaises de Sotteville," in a lovely evening light, by
+Bouland, which falls short of perfection but is very grateful to the
+eyes. In Room V. is a portrait group by Fantin-Latour recalling the
+"Hommage à Delacroix," which we saw in the Collection Moreau, but less
+interesting. The studio is that of Manet at Batignolles. Here also is
+a beautiful snow scene by Cazin--an oasis indeed. In Room VI. we find
+Cazin again with "Ishmael," and two sweet and misty Carrières, a
+powerful if hard Legros, Carolus-Duran's portrait of the ruddy Papa
+Français the painter, Blanche's vivid group of the Thaulow family,
+with the gigantic Fritz bringing the strength of a bull-fighter to the
+execution of one of his tender landscapes, and finally Whistler's
+portrait of his mother, which I reproduce on the opposite page--one of
+the most restful and gentlest deeds of his restless, irritable life.
+
+  [Illustration: PORTRAIT DE SA MÈRE
+    WHISTLER
+    _(Luxembourg)_]
+
+Room VII. is remarkable for Rodin's "Bellona" and Tissot's curious
+exercises in the genre of W. P. Frith--the story of the Prodigal Son.
+But the picture which I remember most clearly and with most pleasure
+is Victor Mottez's "Portrait of Madame M.," which has a deep quiet
+beauty that is very rare in this gallery. In the same room, placed
+opposite each other, although probably not with any conscious ironical
+intention, are a large scene in the Franco-Prussian War by De
+Neuville, and Carrière's "Christ on the Cross". In Room VIII. are a
+number of meretricious Moreaus, Caro-Delvalle's light and, to me,
+oddly attractive, group, "Ma Femme et ses Soeurs," and the portrait
+of Mlle. Moréno of the Comédie Française by Granié, which is
+reproduced opposite page 308, a picture with fascination rather than
+genius.
+
+In the doorway between Room VIII. and Room IX. hangs a small
+water-colour by Harpignies, but in Room IX. itself is nothing that I
+can recollect. Room X. has Picard's charming "Femme qui passe,"
+Harpignies' Coliseum, very like a Moreau Corot, and a Flandrin; and in
+Room XI. are Bastien Lepage's "Portrait of M. Franck," Le Sidaner's
+"Dessert," Vollon's "Port of Antwerp," very beautiful, and
+Carolus-Duran's famous portrait of "Madame G. F. and her children".
+
+On leaving the Musée it is worth while to take a few steps more to the
+left, for they bring us to another sinister souvenir of the Reign of
+Terror--to St. Joseph des Carmes, the Chapel of the Carmelite
+monastery in which, in September, 1792, the Abbé Sicard and other
+priests who had refused to take the oath of the Constitution were
+imprisoned and massacred, as described by Carlyle in Book I., Chapters
+IV. and V. of "The Guillotine," with the assistance of the narrative
+of one of the survivors, _Mon Agonie de Trente-Huit Heures_, by
+Jourgniac Saint-Méard. In the crypt one is shown not only the tombs
+but traces of the massacre.
+
+A walk in the Luxembourg gardens would, if one had been nowhere else,
+quickly satisfy the stranger as to the interest of the French in the
+more remarkable children of their country. In these gardens alone are
+statues, among many others, in honour of Chopin, Watteau, Delacroix,
+Sainte-Beuve, Le Play the economist, Fabre the poet, George Sand,
+Henri Murger, the novelist of the adjacent Latin Quarter, and Théodore
+de Banville, the modern maker of ballades and prime instigator of some
+of the most charming work in French form by Mr. Lang and Mr. Dobson
+and W. E. Henley. There are countless other statues of mythological
+and allegorical figures, some of them very striking. One of the most
+interesting of all is the "Marchand de Masques" by Astruc, among the
+masks offered for sale being those of Corot, Dumas, Berlioz and
+Balzac.
+
+The Luxembourg gardens lead to the Avenue de l'Observatoire, a broad
+and verdant pleasaunce with a noble fountain at the head, in the midst
+of which an armillary sphere is held up by four undraped female
+figures representing the four quarters of the globe, at whom a circle
+of tortoises spout water from the surface of the basin. Beneath the
+upholders of the sphere are eight spirited sea horses by Frémiet, the
+sculptor who designed "Pan and the Bear Cubs" in the Luxembourg.
+
+A few yards to the west of this fountain is one of the simplest and
+most satisfying of Parisian sculptured memorials, at the corner of the
+Rue d'Assas and the Boulevard de l'Observatoire--the bas-relief on the
+Tarnier maternity hospital, representing the benevolent Tarnier in his
+merciful work.
+
+Let us now descend the Boulevard St. Michel to the Sorbonne, which is
+the heart of the Latin Quarter (or perhaps the brain would be the
+better word), disregarding for the moment the Panthéon, and turning
+our backs on the Observatoire and the Lion de Belfort, in the streets
+around which, every September, the noisiest of the Parisian fairs
+rages, and on the Bal Bullier, where the shop assistants of this
+neighbourhood grasp each other in the dance every Thursday and Sunday
+night. Not that this high southern district of Paris is not
+interesting; but it is far less interesting than certain parts nearer
+the Seine, and this book may not be too long.
+
+The Sorbonne is not exciting, but it is not unamusing to watch young
+France gaining knowledge. I have called it the heart of the Latin
+Quarter, although when one thinks of the necessitous, irresponsible
+youthful populace of these slopes, it is rather in a studio than in a
+lecture centre that one would fix its cardiac energy. That, however,
+is the fault of Du Maurier and Murger; for I suppose that for every
+artist that the Latin Quarter fosters it has scores of other students.
+But here I am in unknown territory. This book, which describes (as I
+warned you) Paris wholly from without, is never so external as among
+the young bloods who are to be met at night in the Café Harcourt, or
+who dance at the annual ball of the Quatz'-Arts, or plunge themselves
+into congenial riots when unpopular professors mount the platform. I
+know them not; I merely rejoice in their existence, admire their long
+hair and high spirits and happy indigence, and wish I could join them
+among Jullien's models, or in the disreputable cabaret of Le Père
+Lunette, or at a solemn disputation, such as that famous one in which
+the sophist Buridan, after being thrown into the Seine in a sack and
+rescued, "maintained for a whole day the thesis that it was lawful to
+slay a Queen of France".
+
+The Sorbonne takes its name from Robert de Sorbon, the confessor of
+St. Louis, who had suffered much as a theological student and wished
+others to suffer less; for students in his day existed absolutely on
+charity. St. Louis threw himself into his confessor's scheme, and the
+Sorbonne, richly endowed, was opened in 1253, in its original form
+occupying a site in a street with the depressing name of Coupe-Gueule.
+From a hostel it soon became the Church's intellect, and for five
+and a half centuries it thus existed, almost continually, I regret to
+say, pursuing what Gibbon calls "the exquisite rancour of theological
+hatred". Its hostility to Joan of Arc and the Reformation were alike
+intense. Richelieu built the second Sorbonne, on the site of the
+present one. The Revolution in its short sharp way put an end to it as
+a defender of the faith, and in 1808, under Napoleon, it sprang to
+life again with a broader and humaner programme as the Université de
+France.
+
+  [Illustration: THE FONTAINE DE MÉDICIS
+    (GARDEN OF THE LUXEMBOURG)]
+
+Although arriving on the wrong day (a very easy thing to do in Paris)
+I induced the concierge to show me Puvis de Chavannes' vast and
+beautiful fresco in the Sorbonne's amphitheatre, entitled "La
+Source"--which is, I take it, the spring of wisdom. Thursday is the
+right day. In the chapel is the tomb of Richelieu, a florid monument
+with the dying cardinal and some very ostentatious grief upon it. Near
+by stands an elderly gentleman who charges twice as much for postcards
+as the dealers outside; but one must not mind that. The church is not
+impressive, nor has a recent meretricious work by Weerts, representing
+the Love of Humanity and the Love of Country--the crucified Christ and
+a dead soldier--done it much good. Before it is a monument to Auguste
+Comte.
+
+And now let us descend the hill and cheer and enrich our eyes in one
+of the most remarkable museums in the world--the Cluny. Paris is too
+fortunate. To have the Louvre were enough for any city, but Paris also
+has the Carnavalet. To have the Carnavalet were enough, but Paris
+also has the Cluny. The Musée de Cluny is devoted chiefly to applied
+art, and is a treasury of mediæval taste. It is an ancient building,
+standing on the site of a Roman palace, the ruins of whose baths still
+remain. The present mansion was built by a Benedictine abbot in the
+fifteenth century: it became a storehouse of beautiful and rare
+objects in 1833, when the collector Alphonse du Sommerard bought it;
+and on his death the nation acquired both the house and its treasures,
+which have been steadily increasing ever since. Without, the Cluny is
+a romantic blend of late Gothic and Renaissance architecture: within,
+it is like the heaven of a good arts-and-craftsman; or, to put it
+another way, like an old curiosity shop carried out to the highest
+power. I do not say that we have not as good collections at South
+Kensington; but it is beyond doubt that the Cluny has a more
+attractive setting for them.
+
+To particularise would merely be to convert these pages into an
+incomplete catalogue (and what is duller than that?), but I may say
+that one passes among sculpture and painting, altar-pieces and
+knockers, pottery and tapestry, Spanish leather and lace, gold work
+and glass, enamel and musical instruments, furniture (the state bed of
+Francis I.) and ivories (note those by Van Opstal), ironwork and
+jewels, fireplaces and exquisite slippers. The old keys alone are
+worth hours: some of them might almost be called jewels; be sure to
+look at Nos. 6001 and 6022. Everything is remarkable. Writing in
+London, in a thick fog, at some distance of time since I saw the
+Cluny last, I remember most vividly those keys and a banc d'orfèvre
+near them; a chimney-piece, beautiful and vast, from an old house at
+Châlons-sur-Marne; certain carvings in wood in the great room next the
+Thermes: the "Quatre Pleurants" of Claus de Worde; a dainty Marie
+Madeleine by a Fleming, about 1500 (there is another Marie Madeleine,
+in stone, in an adjacent room, kneeling with her alabaster box of
+ointment, but by no means penitent); and the Jesus on the Mount of
+Olives with the sleeping disciples. I remember also, in one of the
+faience galleries, two delightful groups by Clodion--a "Satyre mâle"
+with two baby goat-feet playing by him, and a "Satyre femelle," very
+charming, also with two little shaggy mites at her knees. The "Fils de
+Rubens," in his little chair, is also a pleasant memory; and there is
+one of those remarkable Neapolitan reconstructions of the Nativity, of
+which the museum at Munich has such an amazing collection--perhaps the
+prettiest toys ever made.
+
+But as I have said, the Cluny is wonderful throughout, and it is
+almost ridiculous to particularise. It is also too small for every
+taste. For the lover of the hues that burn in Rhodian ware it is most
+memorable for its pottery; while of the many Parisians who visit it in
+holiday mood a large percentage make first for the glass case that
+contains its two famous ceintures.
+
+The Curator of the Carnavalet, as we have seen, is a topographer and
+antiquary of distinction; the Director of the Cluny, M. Haraucourt, is
+a poet, one of whose ballads will be found in English form in a later
+chapter. He is in a happy environment, although his Muse does not
+look back quite as, say, Mr. Dobson's loves to do. The singer of the
+"Pompadour's Fan" and the "Old Sedan Chair" would be continually
+inspired at the Cluny.
+
+In the Gardens of the Musée we can feel ourselves in very early times;
+for the baths are the ruins of a Roman palace built in 306, the home
+for a while of Julian the Apostate; a temple of Mercury stood on the
+hill where the Panthéon now is; and a Roman road ran on the site of
+the Rue St. Jacques, just at the east of the Cluny, leading out of
+Paris southwards to Italy.
+
+On leaving the Cluny let us take a few steps westward along the Rue de
+l'Ecole de Médicine, and stop at No. 15, where the Cordeliers' Club
+was held, whither Marat's body was brought to lie in state. His house,
+in which Charlotte Corday stabbed him, was close by, where the statue
+of Broca now stands. In the Boulevard St. Germain, at the end of the
+street, we come to Danton's statue and more memories of the
+Revolution. "What souvenirs of the past," says Sardou, "does the
+statue of Danton cast his shadow upon. At No. 87 Boulevard St.
+Germain--where the woman Simon keeps house! it was there 31st March,
+1793--at six o'clock in the morning, the rattling of the butt ends of
+muskets was heard on the pavement in the midst of wild cries and
+protestations of the crowd, they had dared to arrest Danton, the Titan
+of the Revolution, the man of the 10th of August!--at the same time on
+the Place de l'Odéon, at the corner of the Rue Crébillon, Camille
+Desmoulins had been arrested. An hour later they were both in the
+Luxembourg prison, and it was there Camille heard of the death of his
+mother.
+
+"The Passage du Commerce still exists. It is a most picturesque old
+quarter, rarely visited by Parisians. At No. 9 is Durel's library,
+where Guillotin in 1790 practised cutting off sheep's heads with 'his
+philanthropic beheading machine'. It is generally given out that he
+was guillotined himself, but 'Lemprière' says he died quietly in his
+bed, of grief at the infamous abuse his instrument was put to. In the
+shop close by was the printing office of the _l'Ami du Peuple_, and
+Marat in his dressing-gown (lined with imitation panther skin) used to
+come and correct the proofs of his bloody journal."
+
+Between the Cluny and the river is a network of very old, squalid and
+interesting streets. Here the students of the middle ages found both
+their schools and their lodgings: among them Dante himself, who refers
+to the Rue de Fouarre (or straw, on which, following the instructions
+of Pope Urban V., the students sat) as the Vico degli Strami. It has
+now been demolished. The two churches here are worth a visit--St.
+Severin and St. Julien-le-Pauvre, but the reader is warned that the
+surroundings are not too agreeable. In the court adjoining St Julien's
+are traces of the wall of Philip Augustus, of which we saw something
+at the Mont de Piété.
+
+All these streets, as I say, are picturesque and dirty, but I think
+the best is the Rue de Bièvre, which runs up the hill of St. Etienne
+from the Quai de Montebello, opposite the Morgue, and can be gained
+from St. Julien's by the dirty Rue de la Boucherie, of which this
+street and its westward continuation, the Rue de la Huchette,
+Huysmans, the French novelist and mystic, writes--as of all this
+curious district--in his book, _La Bièvre et Saint Severin_, one of
+the best examples of imaginative topography that I know. Let us see
+what he says of the Bièvre, the little river which gives the street
+its name and which once tumbled down into the Seine at this point, but
+is now buried underground like the New River at Islington.
+
+"The Bièvre," he writes, "represents to-day one of the most perfect
+symbols of feminine misery exploited by a big city. Originating in the
+lake or pond of St. Quentin near Trappes, it runs quietly and slowly
+through the valley that bears its name. Like many young girls from the
+country, directly it arrives in Paris the Bièvre falls a victim to the
+cunning wide-awake industry of a catcher of men.... To follow all her
+windings, it is necessary to ascend the Rue du Moulin des Prés and
+enter the Rue de Gentilly, and then the most extraordinary and
+unsuspected journey begins."
+
+Inspired by the passage of which these are the opening words, I set
+out one day to trace the Bièvre to daylight, but it was a cheerless
+enterprise, for the Rue Monge is a dreary street, and the new
+Boulevards hereabouts are even drearier because they are wider. I
+found her at last, by peeping through a hoarding in the Boulevard
+Arago, with tanneries on each side of her; and then I gave it up.
+
+  [Illustration: LA BOHÉMIENNE
+    FRANZ HALS
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+At the Cluny we saw the Thermes, a visible sign of Roman occupation;
+just off the Rue Monge is another, the amphitheatre, still in very
+good condition, with the grass growing between the crevices of the
+great stone seats. You will find it in the Place des Arènes, a vestige
+of Roman manners and pleasures now converted into an open space for
+children and _bonnes_ and surrounded by flats. But save for the
+desertion that the ages have brought it, the arena is not so very
+different, and standing there, one may easily reconstruct the
+spectators and see again the wild beasts emerging from the underground
+passages, which still remain.
+
+And now for the Panthéon, which rises above us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE PANTHÉON AND ST. GENEVIÈVE
+
+     A Church's Vicissitudes--St. Geneviève--A Guardian of
+     Paris--Illustrious Converts--_The Golden Legend_--A
+     Sabbath-breaker--Geneviève's Sacred Body--Her Tomb--The
+     Panthéon Frescoes--Joan of Arc--The Panthéon Tombs--Mirabeau
+     and Marat--Voltaire's Funeral--The Thoughts of the
+     Thinker--From the Dome--St. Etienne-du-Mont--The Fate of St.
+     Geneviève--The Relic-hunters--The Mystery of the Wine-press.
+
+
+The Panthéon, like the Madeleine, has had its vicissitudes. The new
+Madeleine, as we shall see, was begun by Napoleon as a splendid Temple
+of military glory and became a church; the new Panthéon was begun by
+Louis XV. as a splendid cathedral and became a Temple of Glory, not,
+however, military but civil. Louis XV., when he designed its erection
+on the site of the old church, intended it to be the church of St.
+Geneviève, whose tomb was its proudest possession; when the Revolution
+altered all that, it was made secular and dedicated "aux grands hommes
+la patrie reconnaissante," and the first grand homme to be buried
+there was Mirabeau (destined, however, not to remain a grand homme
+very long, as we shall see), and the next Voltaire. In 1806 Napoleon
+made it a church again; in 1830 the Revolutionaries again secularised
+it; in 1851 it was consecrated again, and in 1885 once more it became
+secular, to receive the body of Victor Hugo, and secular it has
+remained; and considering everything, secular it is likely to be, for
+whatever of change and surprise the future holds for France, an excess
+of ecclesiastical ecstasy is hardly probable.
+
+So much of Louis XV.'s idea remains, in spite of the perversion of his
+purpose, that scenes from the life of St. Geneviève are painted on the
+Panthéon's walls and sculptured on its façade; while in its last
+sacred days the church was known again as St. Geneviève's. Possibly
+there are old people in the neighbourhood who still call it that. I
+hope so.
+
+The life of St. Geneviève, as told in _The Golden Legend_, is rather a
+series of facile miracles than a human document, as we say. She was
+born in the fifth century at Nanterre, and early became a protégée of
+St. Germain, who vowed her to chastity and holiness, from which she
+never departed. Her calling, like that of her new companion on the
+canon, St. Joan, was that of shepherdess, and one of Puvis de
+Chavannes' most charming frescoes in the Panthéon represents her as a
+shadowy slip of a girl kneeling to a crucifix while her sheep graze
+about her. I reproduce it opposite the next page. Her mother, who had,
+like most mothers, a desire that her daughter should marry and have
+children, once so far lost her temper as to strike Geneviève on the
+cheek; for which offence she became blind. (A very comfortable corner
+of heaven is, one feels, the due of the mothers of saints.) She
+remained blind for a long time, until remembering that St. Germain had
+promised for her daughter miraculous gifts, she sent for Geneviève and
+was magnanimously cured. After the death of her parent, Geneviève
+moved to Paris, and there she lived with an old woman, dividing the
+neighbourhood into believers and unbelievers in her sanctity, as is
+ever the way with saints. Here the Devil persecuted and attacked her
+with much persistence and ingenuity, but wholly without effect.
+
+During her long life she made Paris her principal home, and on more
+than one occasion saved it: hence her importance not only to the
+Parisians, who set her above St. Denis (whom she reverenced), but to
+this book. Her power of prayer was gigantic; she literally prayed
+Attila the Hun out of his siege of Paris, and later, when Childeric
+was the besieger and Paris was starving, she brought victuals into the
+city by boat in a miraculous way: another scene chosen by Puvis de
+Chavannes in his Panthéon series. Childeric, however, conquered, in
+spite of Geneviève, but he treated her with respect and made it easy
+for her to approach Clovis and Clotilde and convert them to
+Christianity--hence the convent of St. Geneviève, which Clovis
+founded, remains of which are still to be seen by the church of St.
+Etienne-du-Mont, in the two streets named after those early
+Christians--the Rue Clovis and the Rue Clotilde. Christianity had been
+introduced into Paris by Saint Denis, Geneviève's hero, in the
+third century; but then came a reaction and the new faith lost ground.
+It was St. Geneviève's conversion of Clovis that re-established it on
+a much firmer basis, for he made it the national religion.
+
+  [Illustration: STE. GENEVIÈVE
+    PUVIS DE CHAVANNES
+    (_Panthéon_)]
+
+"This holy maid," says Caxton, "did great penance in tormenting her
+body all her life, and became lean for to give good example. For sith
+she was of the age of fifteen years, unto fifty, she fasted every day
+save Sunday and Thursday. In her refection she had nothing but barley
+bread, and sometime beans, the which, sodden after fourteen days or
+three weeks, she ate for all delices. Always she was in prayers in
+wakings and in penances, she drank never wine ne other liquor, that
+might make her drunk, in all her life. When she had lived and used
+this life fifty years, the bishops that were that time, saw and beheld
+that she was over feeble by abstinence as for her age, and warned her
+to increase a little her fare. The holy woman durst not gainsay them,
+for our Lord saith of the prelates: Who heareth you heareth me, and
+who despiseth you despiseth me, and so she began by obedience to eat
+with her bread, fish and milk, and how well that, she so did, she
+beheld the heaven and wept, whereof it is to believe that she saw
+appertly our Lord Jesus Christ after the promise of the gospel that
+saith that, Blessed be they that be clean of heart for they shall see
+God; she had her heart and body pure and clean."
+
+Caxton also tells quaintly the story of one of the first miracles
+performed by Geneviève's tomb: "Another man came thither that gladly
+wrought on the Sunday, wherefor our Lord punished him, for his hands
+were so benumbed and lame that he might not work on other days. He
+repented him and confessed his sin, and came to the tomb of the said
+virgin, and there honoured and prayed devoutly, and on the morn he
+returned all whole, praising and thanking our Lord, that by the worthy
+merits and prayers of the holy virgin, grant and give us pardon,
+grace, and joy perdurable."
+
+To St. Geneviève's tomb we shall come on leaving the Panthéon, but
+here after so much about her adventures when alive I might say
+something about her adventures when dead. She was buried in 511 in the
+Abbey church of the Holy Apostles, on the site of which the Panthéon
+stands. Driven out by the Normans, the monks removed the saint's body
+and carried it away in a box; and thereafter her remains were destined
+to rove, for when the monks returned to the Abbey they did not again
+place them in the tomb but kept them in a casket for use in
+processions whenever Paris was in trouble and needed supernatural
+help. Meanwhile her tomb, although empty, continued to work miracles
+also.
+
+Early in the seventeenth century her bones were restored to her tomb,
+which was made more splendid, and there they remained until the
+Revolution. The Revolutionists, having no use for saints, opened
+Geneviève's tomb, burned its contents on the Place de Grève, and
+melted the gold of the canopy into money. They also desecrated the
+church of St. Etienne-du-Mont (which we are about to visit) and made
+it a Temple of Theophilanthropy. A few years later the stone coffer
+was removed to St. Etienne-du-Mont, where it now is, gorgeously
+covered with Gothic splendours; but as to how minute are the fragments
+of the saint that it contains which must have been overlooked by the
+incendiary Revolutionaries, I cannot say. They are sufficient,
+however, still to cure the halt and the lame and enable them to leave
+their crutches behind.
+
+The Panthéon is a vast and dreary building, sadly in need of a little
+music and incense to humanise it. The frescoes are interesting--those
+of Puvis de Chavannes in particular, although a trifle too wan--but
+one cannot shake off depression and chill. The Joan of Arc paintings
+by Lenepveu are the least satisfactory, the Maid of this artist
+carrying no conviction with her. But when it comes to that, it is
+difficult to say which of the Parisian Maids of art is satisfactory:
+certainly not the audacious golden Amazon of Frémiet in the Place de
+Rivoli. Dubois' figure opposite St. Augustin's is more earnest and
+spiritual, but it does not quite realise one's wishes. I think that I
+like best the Joan in the Boulevard Saint-Marcel, behind the Jardin
+des Plantes.
+
+The vault of the Panthéon may be seen only in the company of a guide,
+and there is a charge. To be quite sure that Rousseau is in his grave
+is perhaps worth the money; but one resents the fee none the less.
+Great Frenchmen's graves--especially Victor Hugo's--should be free to
+all. There is no charge at the Invalides. You may stand beside Heine's
+tomb in the Cimetière de Montmartre without money and without a guide,
+but not by Voltaire's in the Panthéon; Balzac's grave in Père Lachaise
+is free, Zola's in the Panthéon costs seventy-five centimes.
+
+The guide hurries his flock from one vault to another, at one point
+stopping for a while to exchange badinage with an echo. Rousseau, as I
+have said, is here; Voltaire is here; here are General Carnot,
+President Carnot with a mass of faded wreaths, Soufflot--who designed
+the Panthéon, thinking his work was for St. Geneviève, and who died of
+anxiety owing to a subsidence of the walls; Victor Hugo, and, lately
+moved hither, not without turmoil and even pistol shots, the historian
+of the Rougon-Macquart family and the author of a letter of accusation
+famous in history.
+
+Not without turmoil! which reminds one that the Panthéon's funerals
+have been more than a little grotesque. I said, for example, that
+Mirabeau was the first prophet of reason to be buried here, amid a
+concourse of four hundred thousand mourners; yet you may look in vain
+for his tomb. And there is a record of the funeral of Marat, in a car
+designed by David; yet you may look in vain for Marat's sarcophagus
+also. The explanation (once more) is that we are in France, the land
+of the fickle mob. For within three years of the state burial of
+Mirabeau, with the National Guard on duty, the Convention directed
+that he should be exhumed and Marat laid in his place. Mirabeau's
+body therefore was removed at night and thrown into the earth in the
+cemetery of Clamart. Enter Marat. Marat, however, lay beneath this
+imposing dome only three poor months, and then off went he, a
+discredited corpse, to the graveyard of St. Etienne-du-Mont close by.
+Voltaire, however, and Rousseau held their own, and here they are
+still, as we have seen.
+
+Voltaire came hither under circumstances at once tragic and comic. The
+cortège started from the site of the Bastille, led by the dead
+philosopher in a cart drawn by twelve horses, in which his figure was
+being crowned by a young girl. Opposite the Opera house of that
+day--by the Porte St. Martin--a pause was made for the singing of
+suitable hymns (from the Ferney Hymnal!) and on it came again.
+Surrounding the car were fifty girls dressed by David for the part; in
+the procession were other damsels in the costumes of Voltaire's
+characters. Children scattered roses before the horses. What could be
+prettier for Voltaire? But it needed fine weather, and instead came
+the most appalling storm, which frightened all the young women
+(including Fame, from the car) into doorways, and washed all the
+colour from the great man's effigy.
+
+Remembering all these things, one realises that Rodin's _Penseur_, who
+was placed before the Panthéon in 1906, has something to brood over
+and break his mind upon.
+
+I noticed also among the graves that of one Ignace Jacqueminot, and
+wondering if it were he who gave his name to the rose, I was so
+conscious of gloom and mortality that I hastened to the regions of
+light--to the sweet air of the Mont du Paris and the blue sky over
+all. And later I climbed to the lantern--a trifle of some four hundred
+steps--and looked down on Paris and its river and away to the hills,
+and realised how much better it was to be a live dog than a dead lion.
+
+For the tomb of St. Geneviève we have only a few steps to take, since
+it stands, containing all of her that was not burned, in the church of
+St. Etienne-du-Mont. The first martyr, although he gives his name to
+the church and is seen suffering the stone-throwers in the relief over
+the door, is, however, as nothing. St. Geneviève is the true patron.
+
+St. Etienne's is one of the most interesting churches in Paris,
+without and within. The façade is bizarre and attractive, with its
+jumble of styles, its lofty tower and Renaissance trimmings, and the
+sacristan's prophet's-house high up, on the northern side of the odd
+little extinguisher. You see this best, and his tiny watchdog
+trotting up and down his tiny garden, by descending the hill a little
+way and then turning. Within, the church is fascinating. The pillars
+of the very lofty nave and aisles are slender and sure, the vaulting
+is delicate and has a unique carved marble rood-loft to divide the
+nave from the choir, stretching right along the church, with a rampe
+of great beauty. The pulpit is held up by Samson seated upon his lion
+and grasping the jawbone of an ass.
+
+The last time I saw this pulpit was during the Fête of St. Geneviève,
+which is held early in January, when it contained a fluent nasal
+preacher to whom a congregation that filled every seat was listening
+with rapt attention. At the same time a moving procession of other
+worshippers was steadily passing the tomb, which was a blaze of light
+and heat from some hundreds of candles of every size. The man in front
+of me in the queue, a stout bourgeois, with his wife and two small
+daughters, bought four candles at a franc each. He was all nervousness
+and anxiety before then, but having watched them lighted and placed in
+position, his face became tranquil and gay, and they passed quickly
+out, re-entered their motor-cab and returned to the normal life.
+
+Outside the church was a row of stalls wholly given up to the sale of
+tokens of the saint--little biographies, medals, rosaries, and all the
+other pretty apparatus of the long-memoried Roman Catholic Church. I
+bought a silver pendant, a brief biography, and a tiny metal statue. I
+feel now that had I also bought a candle, as I was minded to, I should
+have escaped the cold that, developing two or three days later, kept
+me in bed for nearly a fortnight. One must be thorough.
+
+The church not only has agreeable architectural features and the tomb
+of this good woman, it has also some admirable glass, not exactly
+beautiful but very quaint and interesting, including a famous window
+by the Pinaigriers, representing the mystery of the wine-press, as
+drawn from Isaiah: "I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the
+people there was none with me". The colouring is very rich and
+satisfying, even if the design itself offends by its literalism and
+want of imagination--Christianity being figured by the blood of Christ
+as it gushes forth into barrels pressed from his body as relentlessly
+as ever was juice of the grape. All this is horrible, but one need not
+study it minutely. There are other windows less remarkable but not
+less rich and glowing.
+
+Other illustrious dust that lies beneath this church is that of Racine
+and Pascal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+TWO ZOOS
+
+     The Tour d'Argent--Frédéric's Homage to America--A Marquis
+     Poet--The Halle des Vins--A Free Zoo--Peacocks in Love--A
+     Reminiscence--The Museums of the Jardin des Plantes--A
+     Lifeless Zoo--Babies in Bottles--The Jardin
+     d'Acclimatation--The Cheerful Gallas--A Pretty Stable--Dogs
+     on Velvet--A Canine Père Lachaise--The Sunday
+     Sportsmen--Panic at the Zoos--The Besieged Resident--The
+     Humours of Famine.
+
+
+On the day of one of my visits to the Jardin des Plantes I lunched at
+the Tour d'Argent, a restaurant on the Quai de la Tournelle, famous
+among many dishes for its delicious canard à la presse. No bird on
+this occasion passed through that luxurious mill for me: but the
+engines were at work all around distilling essential duck with which
+to enrich those slices from the breast that are all that the epicure
+eats. Over a simpler repast I studied a bewildering catalogue of the
+"Créations of Frédéric"--Frédéric being M. Frédéric Delair, a
+venerable chef with a head like that of a culinary Ibsen, stored with
+strange lore of sauces.
+
+By what means one commends oneself to Frédéric I cannot say, but
+certain it is that if he loves you he will immortalise you in a dish.
+Americans would seem to have a short cut to his heart, for I find the
+Canapé Clarence Mackay, the Filet de Sole Loië Fuller, the Filet de
+Sole Gibbs, the Fondu de Merlan Peploe, the Poulet de Madame J. W.
+Mackay, and the Poire Wanamaker. None of these joys tempted me, but I
+am sorry now that I did not partake of the Potage Georges Cain,
+because M. Georges Cain knows more about old Paris than any man
+living; and who knows but that a few spoonfuls of his Potage might not
+have immensely enriched this book! The Noisette de Pré-Salé Bodley
+again should have been nourishing, for Mr. Bodley is the author of one
+of the best of all the many studies of France. Instead, however, I ate
+very simply, of ordinary dishes--foundlings, so to speak, named after
+no one--and amused myself over my coffee in examining the Marquis
+Lauzières de Thémines' poésie sur les Créations de Frédéric (to the
+air of "la Corde Sensible"). Two stanzas and two choruses will
+illustrate the noble poet's range:--
+
+     Que de filets de sole on y consomme!
+     Sole Néron, Cardinal, Maruka.
+     Dosamentès, Edson ... d'autres qu'on nomme
+     Victor Renault, Saintgall, Hérédia.
+     La liste est longue! rognons, côtelettes,
+     Poulet Sigaud et Canard Mac-Arthur,
+     Filets de lièvre Arnold White et Noisettes
+     De Pré-salé, Langouste Wintherthur.
+
+     Ce que je fais n'est pas une réclame,
+     Je vous le dis pour être obligeant.
+     Je m'en voudrais d'encourir votre blâme
+     Pour avoir trop vanté LA TOUR D'ARGENT.
+     Les noms des OEufs de cent façons s'étalent,
+     OEufs Bûcheron, oeufs Claude Lowther.
+     OEufs Tuck, Rathbone, oeufs Mackay que n'égalent
+     Que les chaud-froids de volaille Henniker.
+     Que d'entremets ont nom de "la Tournelle"!
+     Et plus souvent, le vocable engageant
+     Du restaurant, car plus d'un plat s'appelle
+     (Gibier, beignets, salade) "Tour d'Argent".
+
+     Ami lecteur, pour faire bonne chère,
+     Ecoute-moi, ne sois pas négligent,
+     Va-t-en dîner, si ta santé t'est chère,
+     Au Restaurant nommé LA TOUR D'ARGENT.
+
+(Odd work for Marquises!)
+
+  [Illustration: THE MUSÉE CLUNY (COURTYARD)]
+
+On the way to the Jardin des Plantes from this restaurant it is not
+unamusing to turn aside to the Halles des Vins and loiter a while in
+these genial catacombs. Here you may see barrels as the sands of the
+sea-shore for multitude, and raw wine of a colour that never yet
+astonished in a bottle, and I hope, so far as I am concerned, never
+will: unearthly aniline juices that are to pass through many dark
+processes before they emerge smilingly as vins, to lend cheerfulness
+to the windows of the épicier and gaiety to the French heart.
+
+Even with the most elementary knowledge of French one would take the
+Jardin des Plantes to be the Parisian Kew, and so to some small extent
+it is; but ninety-nine per cent. of its visitors go not to see the
+flora but the fauna. It is in reality the Zoo of the Paris
+proletariat. Paris, unlike London, has two Zoos, both of which hide
+beneath names that easily conceal their zoological character from the
+foreigner--the Jardin des Plantes, where we now find ourselves, which
+is free to all, and the Jardin d'Acclimatation, on the edge of the
+Bois de Boulogne, near the Porte Maillot, which costs money--a franc
+to enter and a ridiculous supplément to your cabman for the privilege
+of passing the fortifications in his vehicle: one of Paris's little
+mistakes. To the Jardin d'Acclimatation we shall come anon: just now
+let us loiter among the wild animals of the Jardin des Plantes, which
+is as a matter of fact a far more thorough Zoo than that selecter
+other, where frivolity ranks before zoology. Our own Zoo contains a
+finer collection than either, and our animals are better housed and
+ordered, but this Parisian people's Zoo has a great advantage over
+ours in that it is free. All zoological gardens should of course be
+free.
+
+The Jardin des Plantes has another and a dazzling superiority in the
+matter of peacocks. I never saw so many. They occur wonderfully in the
+most unexpected places, not only in the enclosures of all the other
+open-air animals, but in trees and on roofs and amid the
+bushes--burning with their deep and lustrous blue. But on the warm day
+of spring on which I saw them first they were not so quiescent.
+Regardless of the proprieties they were most of them engaged in
+recommending themselves to the notice of their ladies. On all sides
+were spreading tails bearing down upon the beloved with the steady
+determination of a three-masted schooner, and now and then caught like
+that vessel in a shattering breeze (of emotion) which stirred every
+sail. In England one might feel uncomfortable in the midst of so naked
+a display of the old Adam, but in Paris one becomes more reconciled to
+facts, and (like the new cat in the adage) ceases to allow "I am
+ashamed" to wait upon "I would". The peahens, however, behaved with a
+stolid circumspection that was beyond praise. These vestals never
+lifted their heads from the ground, but pecked on and on, mistresses
+of the scene and incidentally the best friends of the crowds of
+ouvriers and ouvrières ("V'là le paon! Vite! Vite!") at every railing.
+But the Parisian peacock is not easily daunted. In spite of these
+rebuffs the batteries of glorious eyes continued firing, and wider and
+wider the tails spread, with a corresponding increase of disreputable
+déshabillé behind; and so I left them, recalling as I walked away a
+comic occurrence at school too many years ago, when a travelling
+elocutionist, who had induced our headmaster to allow him to recite to
+the boys, was noticed to be discharging all his guns of tragedy and
+humour (some of which I remember distinctly at the moment) with a
+broadside effect that, while it assisted the ear, had a limiting
+influence on gesture and by-play, and completely eliminated many of
+the nuances of conversational give and take. Never throughout the
+evening did we lose sight of the full expanse of his shirt front;
+never did he turn round. Never, do I say? But I am wrong. Better for
+him had it been never: for the poor fellow, his task over and his
+badly needed guinea earned, forgot under our salvoes of applause the
+need of caution, and turning from one side of the platform to the
+other in stooping acknowledgment, disclosed a rent precisely where no
+man would have a rent to be.
+
+My advice to the visitor to the Jardin des Plantes is to be satisfied
+with the living animals--with the seals and sea-lions, the bears and
+peacocks, the storks and tigers; and, in fair weather, with the
+flowers, although the conditions under which these are to be observed
+are not ideal, so formally arranged on the flat as they are, with
+traffic so visibly adjacent. But to the glutton for museums such
+advice is idle. Here, however, even he is like to have his fill.
+
+Let him then ask at the Administration for a ticket, which will be
+handed to him with the most charming smile by an official who is
+probably of all the bureaucrats of Paris the least deserving of a tip,
+since zoological and botanical gardens exist for the people, and these
+tickets (the need for which is, by the way, non-existent) are free and
+are never withheld--but who is also of all the bureaucrats of Paris
+the most determined to get one, even, as I observed, from his own
+countrymen. Thus supplied you must walk some quarter of a mile to a
+huge building in which are collected all the creatures of the earth in
+their skins as God made them, but lifeless and staring from the hands
+of taxidermic man. It is as though the ark had been overwhelmed by
+some such fine dust as fell from Vesuvius, and was now exhumed. One
+does not get the same effect from the Natural History Museum in the
+Cromwell Road; it is, I suppose, the massing that does it here.
+
+Having walked several furlongs amid this travesty of wild and
+dangerous life, one passes to the next museum, which is devoted to
+mineralogy and botany, and here again are endless avenues of joy for
+the muséephile and tedium for others. Lastly, after another quarter of
+a mile's walk, the palatial museum of anatomy is reached, the
+ingenious art of the late M. Frémiet once more providing a hors
+d'oeuvre. At the Arts Décoratifs we find on the threshold a man
+dragging a bear cub into captivity; at the Petit Palais, St. George is
+killing the dragon just inside the turnstile; and here, near the
+umbrella-stand, is a man being strangled by an orang-outang. Thus
+cheered, we enter, and are at once amid a very grove of babies in
+bottles: babies unready for the world, babies with two heads, babies
+with no heads at all, babies, in short, without any merit save for the
+biologist, the distiller, and the sightseer with strong nerves. From
+the babies we pass to cases containing examples of every organ of the
+human form divine, and such approximations as have been accomplished
+by elephants and mice and monkeys--all either genuine, in spirits, or
+counterfeited with horrible minuteness in wax. Also there are
+skeletons of every known creature, from whales to frogs, and I noticed
+a case illustrating the daily progress of the chicken in the egg.
+
+And now for the other Zoo, the Zoo of the classes. Perhaps the best
+description is to call it a playground with animals in it. For there
+are children everywhere, and everything is done for their
+amusement--as is only natural in a land where children persist through
+life and no one ever tires. In the centre of the gardens is an
+enclosure in which in the summer of 1908 were encamped a colony of
+Gallas, an intelligent and attractive black people from the border of
+Abyssinia, who flung spears at a target, and fought duels, and danced
+dances of joy and sorrow, and rounded up zebras, and in the intervals
+sold curiosities and photographs of themselves with ingratiating
+tenacity. It was a strange bizarre entertainment, with greedy
+ostriches darting their beaks among the spectators, and these
+shock-headed savages screaming through their diversions, and now and
+again a refined slip of a black girl imploring one mutely to give a
+franc for a five centimes picture postcard, or murmuring incoherent
+rhapsodies over the texture of a European dress.
+
+All around the enclosure the Parisian children were playing, some
+riding elephants, others camels, some driving an ostrich cart, and all
+happy. But the gem of the Jardin is the Ecurie, on one side for
+ponies--scores of little ponies, all named--the other for horses; on
+one side a riding school for children, on the other side a riding
+school for grown-up pupils, perhaps the cavalry officers of the
+future. The ponies are charming: Bibiche, landaise, Volubilité, cheval
+landais, Céramon, cheval finlandais, Farceur, from the same country,
+Columbine, née de Ratibor, and so forth. There they wait, alert and
+patient too, in the manner of small ponies, and by-and-by one is led
+off to the Petit manège for a little Monsieur Paul or Etienne to
+bestride. The Ecurie is a model of its kind, with its central
+courtyard and offices for the various servants, sellier, piqueur and
+so forth.
+
+  [Illustration: LA LEÇON DE LECTURE
+    TERBURG
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Near by is a castellated fortress which might belong to a dwarf of
+blood but is really a rabbit house. Every kind of rabbit is here, with
+this difference from the rabbit house in our Zoo, that the animals are
+for sale; and there is a fragrant vacherie where you may learn to
+milk; and in another part is a collection of dogs--tou-tous and
+lou-lous and all the rest of it--and these are for sale too. This is
+as popular a department as any in the Jardin. The expressions of
+delight and even ecstasy which were being uttered before some of the
+cages I seem still to hear.
+
+The Parisians may be kind fathers and devoted mothers: I am sure that
+they are; but to the observer in the streets and restaurants their
+finest shades of protective affection would seem to be reserved for
+dogs. One sees their children with bonnes; their dogs are their own
+care. The ibis of Egypt is hardly more sacred. An English friend who
+has lived in the heart of Paris for some time in the company of a fox
+terrier tells me that on their walks abroad in the evening the number
+of strangers who stop him to pass friendly remarks upon his pet or ask
+to be allowed to pat it--or who make overtures to it without
+permission--is beyond belief. No pink baby in Kensington Gardens is
+more admired. Dogs in English restaurants are a rarity: but in Paris
+they are so much a matter of course that a little pâtée is always
+ready for them.
+
+It was of course a French tongue that first gave utterance to the
+sentiment, "The more I see of men the more I like dogs"; but I cannot
+pretend to have observed that the Frenchman suffers any loss in
+prestige or power from this attention to the tou-tou and the lou-lou.
+Nothing, I believe, will ever diminish the confidence or success of
+that lord of creation. He may to the insular eye be too conscious of
+his charms; he may suggest the boudoir rather than the field of battle
+or the field of sport; he may amuse by his hat, astonish by his beard,
+and perplex by his boots; but the fact remains that he is master of
+Paris, and Paris is the centre of civilisation.
+
+The Parisians not only adore their dogs in life: they give them very
+honourable burial. We have in London, by Lancaster Gate, a tiny
+cemetery for these friendly creatures; but that is nothing as compared
+with the cemetery at St. Ouen, on an island in the Seine. Here are
+monuments of the most elaborate description, and fresh wreaths
+everywhere. The most striking tomb is that of a Saint Bernard who
+saved forty persons but was killed by the forty-first--a hero of whose
+history one would like to know more, but the gate-keeper is curiously
+uninstructed.[2]
+
+  [2] I have since learned that this is the same dog, Barry by
+      name, who has a monument on the St. Bernard Pass, and is stuffed
+      in the Natural History Museum at Berne. But I know nothing of
+      his connexion with Paris.
+
+I walked among these myriad graves, all very recent in date, and was
+not a little touched by the affection that had gone to their making. I
+noted a few names: Petit Bob, Espérance (whose portrait is in
+bas-relief accompanied by that of its master), Peggie, Fan, Pincke,
+Manon, Dick, Siko, Léonette (aged 17 years and 4 months), Toby, Kiki,
+Ben-Ben ("toujours gai, fidèle et caressant"--what an epitaph to
+strive for!), Javotte, Nana, Lili, Dedjaz, Trinquefort, Teddy and
+Prince (whose mausoleum is superb), Fifi (who saved lives), Colette,
+Dash (a spaniel, with a little bronze sparrow perching on his tomb),
+Boy, Bizon (who saved his owner's life and therefore has this
+souvenir), and Mosque ("regretté et fidèle ami"). There must be
+hundreds and hundreds altogether, and it will not be long before
+another "Dog's Acre" is required.
+
+Standing amid all the little graves I felt that the one thing I wanted
+to see was a dog's funeral. For surely there must be impressive
+obsequies as a preparation to such thoughtful burial. But I did not.
+No melancholy cortège came that way that afternoon; Fido's pompes
+funèbres are still a mystery to me.
+
+But to my mind the best dogs in Paris are not such toy pets as for the
+most part are here kept in sacred memory, but those eager pointers
+that one sees on Sunday morning at the Gare du Nord, and indeed at all
+the big stations, following brisk, plump sportsmen with all the opéra
+bouffe insignia of the chase--the leggings and the belt and the great
+satchel and the gun. For the Frenchman who is going to shoot likes the
+world to know what a lucky devil he is: he has none of our furtive
+English unwillingness to be known for what we are. I have seen them
+start, and I have waited about in the station towards dinner time just
+to see them return, with their bags bulging, and their steps springing
+with the pride and elation of success, and the faithful pointers
+trotting behind.
+
+Everything is happy at the Jardins des Plantes and d'Acclimatation
+to-day: but it was not always so. During a critical period of 1870 and
+1871 the cages were in a state of panic over the regular arrival of
+the butcher--not to bring food but to make it. Mr. Labouchere, the
+"Besieged Resident," writing on December 5th, 1870, says: "Almost all
+the animals in the Jardin d'Acclimatation have been eaten. They have
+averaged about 7 f. a lb. Kangaroo has been sold for 12 f. the lb.
+Yesterday I dined with the correspondent of a London paper. He had
+managed to get a large piece of mufflon, and nothing else, an animal
+which is, I believe, only found in Corsica. I can only describe it by
+saying that it tasted of mufflon, and nothing else. Without being
+absolutely bad, I do not think that I shall take up my residence in
+Corsica, in order habitually to feed upon it."
+
+On December 18th Mr. Labouchere was at Voisin's. The bill of fare, he
+says, was ass, horse and English wolf from the Zoological Gardens.
+According to a Scotch friend, the English wolf was Scotch fox. Mr.
+Labouchere could not manage it and fell back on the patient ass.
+Voisin's, by the way, was the only restaurant which never failed to
+supply its patrons with a meal. If you ask Paul, the head waiter, he
+will give you one of the siege menus as a souvenir.
+
+Mr. Labouchere's description of typical life during the siege may be
+quoted here as offering material for reflection as we loiter about
+this city so notable to-day for pleasure and plenty. "Here is my day.
+In the morning the boots comes to call me. He announces the number of
+deaths which have taken place in the hotel during the night. If there
+are many he is pleased, as he considers it creditable to the
+establishment. He then relieves his feelings by shaking his fist in
+the direction of Versailles, and exits growling 'Canaille de
+Bismarck'. I get up. I have breakfast--horse, _café au lait_--the
+_lait_ chalk and water--the portion of horse about two square inches
+of the noble quadruped. Then I buy a dozen newspapers, and after
+having read them discover that they contain nothing new. This brings
+me to about eleven o'clock. Friends drop in, or I drop in on friends.
+We discuss how long it is to last--if friends are French we agree that
+we are sublime. At one o'clock get into the circular railroad, and go
+to one or other of the city gates. After a discussion with the
+National Guards on duty, pass through. Potter about for a couple of
+hours at the outposts; try with glass to make out Prussians; look at
+bombs bursting; creep along the trenches; and wade knee-deep in mud
+through the fields. The Prussians, who have grown of late malevolent
+even towards civilians, occasionally send a ball far over one's head.
+They always fire too high. French soldiers are generally cooking food.
+They are anxious for news, and know nothing about what is going on. As
+a rule they relate the episode of some _combat d'avant-poste_ which
+took place the day before. The episodes never vary. 5 P.M.--Get back
+home; talk to doctors about interesting surgical operations; then drop
+in upon some official to interview him about what he is doing.
+Official usually first mysterious, then communicative, not to say
+loquacious, and abuses most people except himself. 7 P.M.--Dinner at a
+restaurant; conversation general; almost every one in uniform. Still
+the old subjects--How long will it last? Why does not Gambetta write
+more clearly? How sublime we are; what a fool every one else is. Food
+scanty, but peculiar.... After dinner, potter on the Boulevards under
+the dispiriting gloom of petroleum; go home and read a book. 12
+P.M.--Bed. They nail up the coffins in the room just over mine every
+night, and the tap, tap, tap, as they drive in the nails, is the
+pleasing music which lulls me to sleep."
+
+Here is another extract illustrating the pass to which a hungry city
+had come: "Until the weather set in so bitter cold, elderly sportsmen,
+who did not care to stalk the human game outside, were to be seen from
+morning to night pursuing the exciting sport of gudgeon fishing along
+the banks of the Seine. Each one was always surrounded by a crowd
+deeply interested in the chase. Whenever a fish was hooked, there was
+as much excitement as when a whale is harpooned in more northern
+latitudes. The fisherman would play it for some five minutes, and
+then, in the midst of the solemn silence of the lookers-on, the
+precious capture would be landed. Once safe on the bank, the happy
+possessor would be patted on the back, and there would be cries of
+'Bravo!' The times being out of joint for fishing in the Seine, the
+disciples of Izaak Walton have fallen back on the sewers. The _Paris
+Journal_ gives them the following directions how to pursue their new
+game: 'Take a long strong line, and a large hook, bait with tallow,
+and gently agitate the rod. In a few minutes a rat will come and smell
+the savoury morsel. It will be some time before he decides to swallow
+it, for his nature is cunning. When he does, leave him five minutes to
+meditate over it; then pull strongly and steadily. He will make
+convulsive jumps; but be calm, and do not let his excitement gain on
+you, draw him up, _et voilà votre dîner_.'"
+
+There is still hardly less excitement when a fish is landed by a quai
+fisherman, but the emotion is now purely artistic.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE MADELEINE TO THE OPERA
+
+     From Temple to Church--Napoleon the Christian--The Chapelle
+     Expiatoire--More Irony of History--Mi-Carême--The Art of
+     Insolence--Spacious Streets--The Champions of
+     France--Marius--Letter-boxes and Stamps--The Facteur at the
+     Bed--Killing a Guide no Murder--The Largest Theatre in the
+     World--A Theatrical Museum.
+
+
+The Madeleine has had a curious history. The great Napoleon built it,
+on the site of a small eighteenth-century church, as a Temple of
+Glory, a gift to his soldiers, where every year on the anniversaries
+of Austerlitz and Jena a concert was to be held, odes read, and
+orations delivered on the duties and privileges of the warrior, any
+mention of the Emperor's own name being expressly forbidden. That was
+in 1806. The building was still in progress when 1815 came, with
+another and more momentous battle in it, and Napoleon and his proposal
+disappeared. The building of the Temple of Glory was continued as a
+church, and a church it still is; and the memory of Jena and
+Austerlitz is kept alive in Paris by other means (they have, for
+example, each a bridge), no official orations are delivered on the
+soldier's calling, no official odes recited. It was a noble idea of
+the Emperor's, and however perfunctorily carried out, could not have
+left one with a less satisfied feeling than some of the present
+ceremonials in the Madeleine, which has become the most fashionable
+Paris church. Napoleon, however, is not wholly forgotten, for in the
+apse, I understand, is a fresco representing Christ reviewing the
+chief champions of Christianity and felicitating with them upon their
+services, the great Emperor being by no means absent. Herr Baedeker
+says that the fresco is there, but I have not succeeded in seeing it,
+for the church is lit only by three small cupolas and is dark with
+religious dusk.
+
+Within, the Madeleine is a surprise, for it does not conform to its
+fine outward design. One expects a classic severity and simplicity,
+and instead it is paint and Italianate curves. The wisest course for
+the visitor is to avoid the steps and the importunate mendicants at
+the railings, and slip in by the little portal on the west side where
+the discreet closed carriages wait.
+
+Louis XVIII., with his passion--a very natural one--to obliterate
+Napoleon and the revolutionaries and resume monarchical continuity,
+wished to complete the Madeleine as a monument to Louis XVI. and Marie
+Antoinette; but he did not persevere with the idea. He built instead,
+on the site of the old cemetery of the Madeleine, where Louis XVI. and
+the Queen had been buried, the Chapelle Expiatoire. It is their memory
+only which is preserved here, for, after Waterloo, their bones were
+carried to St. Denis, where the other French kings lie. Their
+statues, however, are enshrined in the building (which is just off the
+Boulevard Haussmann, isolated solemnly and impressively among chestnut
+trees and playing children), the king being solaced by an angel who
+remarks to him in the words used by Father Edgeworth on the scaffold,
+"Fils de St. Louis, montez au ciel!" and the queen by religion,
+personified by her sister-in-law, Madame Elizabeth. The door-keeper,
+who conducted me as guide, was in raptures over Louis XVI.'s lace and
+the circumstance that he was hewn from a single block of marble. I
+liked his enthusiasm: these unfortunate monarchs deserve the utmost
+that sculptor and door-keeper can give them.
+
+Paris has changed its mind more completely and frequently than any
+city in the world--and no illustration of that foible is better than
+this before us. Consider the sequence: first the king; then the
+prisoner; then the execution--the body and head being carried to the
+nearest cemetery, the Madeleine, where the guillotine's victims were
+naturally flung, and carelessly buried. Ten months later the queen's
+body and head follow. (It is said that the records of the Madeleine
+contain an entry by a sexton, which runs in English, "Paid seven
+francs for a coffin for the Widow Capet".) That was in 1793. Not until
+1815 do they find sepulture befitting them, and then this chapel rises
+in their honour and they become saints.
+
+  [Illustration: LA DENTELLIÈRE
+    JAN VERMEER OF DELFT
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Among other bodies buried here was that of Charlotte Corday. Also the
+Swiss Guards, whom we saw meeting death at the Tuileries. A strange
+place, and to-day, in a Paris that cares nothing for Capets, a perfect
+example of what might paradoxically be called well-kept neglect.
+
+To me the Madeleine has always a spurious air: nothing in it seems
+quite true. Externally, its Roman proportions carry no hint of the
+Christian religion; within, there is a noticeable lack of reverence.
+Every one walks about, and the Suisses are of the world peculiarly and
+offensively worldly. Standing before the altar with its representation
+of the Magdalen, who gives the church its name, being carried to
+Heaven, it is difficult to realise that only thirty-eight years ago
+this very spot was running red with the blood of massacred Communards.
+
+I remember the Madeleine most naturally as I saw it once at Mi-Carême,
+from an upper window at Durand's, after lunch. It was a dull day and
+the Madeleine frowned on the human sea beneath it; for the Place
+before it and the Rue Royale were black with people. The portico is
+always impressive, but I had never before had so much time or such
+excellent opportunity to study it and its relief of the Last Judgment,
+an improbable contingency to which few of us were giving much thought
+just then. Not only were the steps crowded, but two men had climbed to
+the green roof and were sitting on the very apex of the building.
+
+The Mi-Carême carnival in Paris, I may say at once, is not worth
+crossing the Channel for. It is tawdry and stupid; the life of the
+city is dislocated; the Grands Boulevards are quickly some inches deep
+in confetti, all of which has been discharged into faces and even eyes
+before reaching the ground; the air is full of dust; and the places of
+amusement are uncomfortably crowded. The Lutetian humours of the Latin
+Quarter students and of Montmartre are not without interest for a
+short time, but they become tedious with extraordinary swiftness and
+certainty as the morning grows grey.
+
+Each side of the Madeleine has its flower markets, and they share the
+week between them. Round and about Christmas a forest of fir-trees
+springs up. At the back of the Madeleine omnibuses and trams converge
+as at the Elephant.
+
+For a walk along the Grands Boulevards this temple is the best
+starting-point; but I do not suggest that the whole round shall be
+made. By the Grands Boulevards the precisian would mean the half
+circle from the Madeleine to the Place de la République and thence to
+the Place de la Bastille; or even the whole circle, crossing the river
+by the Pont Sully to the Boulevard St. Antoine, which cuts right
+through the Surrey side and crosses the river by the Pont de la
+Concorde and so comes to the Rue Royale and the Madeleine again. Those
+are the Grands Boulevards; but when the term is conversationally used
+it means nothing whatever but the stretch of broad road and pavement,
+of vivid kiosques and green branches, between the Madeleine and the
+Rue Richelieu: that is the Grands Boulevards for the flâneur and the
+foreigner. All the best cafés to sit at, all the prettiest women to
+stare at, all the most entertaining shop windows, are found between
+these points.
+
+The prettiest women to stare at! Here I touch on a weakness in the
+life of Paris which there is no doubt the Boulevards have fostered.
+Staring--more than staring, a cool cynical appraisement--is one of the
+privileges which the Boulevardier most prizes. I have heard it said
+that he carries staring to a fine art; but it is not an art at all,
+and certainly not fine; it is just a coarse and disgusting liberty. It
+is nothing to him that the object of his interest is accompanied by a
+man; his code ignores that detail; he is out to see and to make an
+impression and nothing will stop him. One must not, however, let this
+ugly practice offend one's sensibility too much. Foreigners need not
+necessarily do as the Romans do, but it is not their right to be too
+critical of Rome; and liberty is the very air of the Boulevards. Live
+and let live. If one is going to be annoyed by Paris, one had better
+stay at home.
+
+The Grands Boulevards might be called the show-rooms of Paris: it is
+here that one sees the Parisians. In London one may live for years and
+never see a Londoner; not because Londoners do not exist, but because
+London has no show-rooms for their display. There is no Boulevard in
+London; the only streets that have a pavement capable of accommodating
+both spectators and a real procession of types are deserted, such as
+Portland Place and Kingsway. The English, who conquer and administer
+the world, dislike space; the French, a people at whose alleged want
+of inches we used to mock, rejoice in space. Think of the
+Champs-Elysées and the Bois, and then think of Constitution Hill and
+Hyde Park, and you realise the difference. Take a mental drive by any
+of the principal Boulevards--from the Madeleine eastward to the Place
+de la République and back to the Madeleine again by way of the
+Boulevards de Magenta and Clichy and down the Boulevard Malesherbes,
+and then take a mental drive from Hyde Park Corner by way of
+Piccadilly, the Strand, Fleet Street, Cannon Street, Lombard Street,
+Cheapside, Holborn, Oxford Street and Park Lane to Hyde Park Corner
+again and you realise the difference. In wet weather in Paris it is
+possible to walk all day and not be splashed. Think of our most
+fashionable thoroughfare, just by Long's Hotel, when it is
+raining--our Rue de la Paix. The only street in London of which a
+Frenchman would not be ashamed is the Mile End Road.
+
+At the Taverne Olympia--just past the old houses standing back from
+the pavement, on the left, which are built on the wall of the old
+moat, when this Boulevard really was a bulwark or fortification--at
+the Taverne Olympia, upstairs, is one of the few billiard saloons in
+Paris in which exhibition games are continually in progress, and in
+which one can fill many amusing half-hours and perhaps win a few
+louis. Years ago I used to frequent the saloon in a basement under the
+Grand Café, a few doors east of the Olympia, but it has lost some of
+its prestige. The best play now is at Olympia and at Cure's place in
+the Rue Vivienne. Every day of the year, for ever and ever, a billiard
+match is in progress. So you may say is, in the winter, the case in
+London at Burroughs and Watts', or Thurston's, but these are very
+different. In London the match is for a large number of points and it
+may last a week or a fortnight. Here there are scores of matches every
+afternoon and evening and the price of admission is a consommation. By
+virtue of one glass of coffee you may sit for hours and watch champion
+of France after champion of France lose and win, win and lose.
+
+The usual game is played by three champions of France and is for ten
+cannons off the red. The names of the players, on cards, are first
+flung on the table, and the amateur of sport advances from his seat
+and stakes five francs on that champion of France whom he favours.
+Five francs is the unit. On my first visit, years ago, the champion
+whom I, very unsoundly but not perhaps unnaturally, supported, was one
+Lucas. Poor fellow, on that afternoon he did his best, but he never
+got home. The great Marius was too much for him. Marius in those days
+was a very fine player and the hero of the saloon at the Grand Café. A
+Southerner I should guess; for I have seen his doubles by the score in
+the cafés of Avignon and Nîmes. He was short and thick, with a bald
+head and a large sagacious nose and a saturnine smile and a heavy
+moustache. Winning and losing were all one to him, although it is
+understood that fifty centimes are contributed by each of his backers
+to a champion of France when he brings it off. Marius looked down his
+nose in the same way whatever happened. He was no Roberts; he had none
+of the Cæsarian masterfulness, none of the Napoleonic decision, of
+that king of men. The modern French game does not lend itself to such
+commanding excellence, such Alpine distinction. The cannon is all:
+there is no longer any of the quiet and magical disappearance of the
+ball into a pocket which makes the English game so fascinating.
+
+Such was Marius when I first saw him, and quite lately I descended to
+his cellar again and found him unaltered, except that he was no longer
+a master except very occasionally, and that he had grown more
+sardonic. I do not wonder at it. It may not be, in Paris, "a lonely
+thing to be champion," as Cashel Byron says, but it must be a
+melancholy thing to be no longer the champion that you were. A home of
+rest for ex-champions would draw my guinea at once.
+
+The ten or eight cannons off the red, I might add, are varied now and
+then. Sometimes there is a match between two players for a hundred
+points. Sometimes three players will see which can first make eight
+cannons, each involving three cushions (trois bandes). This is a very
+interesting game to watch, although it may be a concession to
+decadence.
+
+  [Illustration: THE RUE DE BIÈVRE
+    (FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)
+    PANTHÉON]
+
+We come next to the Rue Scribe, and crossing it, are at "Old England,"
+a shop where the homesick may buy such a peculiarly English delicacy
+as marmalade, beneath the shadow of the gigantic Grand Hotel,
+notable not only for its million bedrooms but for marking the position
+of one of the few post offices of Paris, and also the only shop in the
+centre of the city which keeps a large and civilised stock of Havana
+cigars. One can live without Havana cigars, but post offices are a
+necessity, and in Paris they conceal themselves with great success;
+while, as for letter-boxes, it has been described as a city without
+one. To a Londoner accustomed to the frequent and vivid occurrence at
+street corners of our scarlet obelisks, it is so. Quite recently I
+heard of a young Englishman, shy and incorrigibly one-languaged, who,
+during a week in Paris, entrusted all his correspondence to a
+fire-alarm. But, as a matter of fact, Paris has letter-boxes in great
+number, only for the most part they are so concealed as to be solely
+for the initiated. Directly one learns that every tobacconist also
+sells stamps and either secretes a letter-box somewhere beneath his
+window, or marks the propinquity of one, life becomes simple.
+
+Although normally one never has, in France, even in the official
+receptacle of one of the chief of the Bureaux des Postes, any of that
+confidence that one reposes in the smallest wall-box in England; yet
+one must perforce overcome this distrust or use only pneumatiques. The
+French do not carry ordinary letters very well, but if you register
+them nothing can keep the postman from you. A knock like thunder
+crashes into your dreams, and behold he is at your bedside, alert and
+important, be-ribboned with red tape, tendering for your signature a
+pen dipped in an inkstand concealed about his person. Every one who
+goes to France for amusement should arrange to receive one registered
+letter.
+
+Its letter-boxes may be a trifle farcical, but in its facilities given
+to purchasers of stamps France makes England look an uncivilised
+country. Why it should be illegal for any one but a postal official to
+supply stamps in my own land, I have never been informed, nor have any
+of the objections to the system ever been explained away. In France
+you may get your stamps anywhere--from tobacconists for certain; from
+waiters for certain; from the newspaper kiosques for certain; and from
+all tradespeople almost for certain: hence one is relieved of the
+tiresome delays in post offices that are incident to English life. But
+I am inclined to think that when it comes to the post office proper,
+England has the advantage. The French post office (when you have found
+it) is always crowded and always overheated; and you remember what I
+told the men in the Mint.
+
+To return to the Grand Hotel, I am minded to express the wish that
+something could be done to rid its pavement of the sly leering
+detrimental with an umbrella who comes up to the foreigner and offers
+his services as a guide to the night side of Paris. Not until an
+Englishman has killed one of these pests will this part of Paris be
+endurable. But from what I have observed I should say that few murders
+are less likely to occur....
+
+And so we come to the Café de la Paix, and turning to the left, the
+Opera is before us. The Opera is one of the buildings of Paris that
+are taken for granted. We do not look at it much: we think of it as
+occupying the central position, adjacent to Cook's, useful as a place
+of meeting; we buy a seat there occasionally, and that is all. And yet
+it is the largest theatre in the world (the work of that Charles
+Garnier whose statue is just outside), and although it is not exactly
+beautiful, its proportions are agreeable; it does not obtrude its size
+(and yet it covers three acres); it sits very comfortably on the
+ground, and an incredible amount of patient labour and thought went to
+its achievement, as any one may see by walking round it and studying
+the ornamentation and the statuary, among which is Carpeaux's famous
+lively group "La Danse". One very pleasant characteristic of the Opera
+is the modesty with which it announces its performances: nothing but a
+minute poster in a frame, three or four times repeated, giving the
+information to the passer-by. Larger posters would impair its superb
+reserve.
+
+The Opera has a little museum, the entrance to which is in the Rue
+Auber corner, by the statue of the architect (with his plan of the
+building traced in bronze below his bust). This museum is a model of
+its kind--small but very pertinent and personal in character. Here are
+one of Paganini's bows and his rosin box; souvenirs of Malibran
+presented to her by some Venetian admirers in 1835; Berlioz' season
+ticket for the Opera in 1838, and a page of one of his scores; Rossini
+in a marble statuette, asleep on his sofa, wearing that variety of
+whisker which we call a Newgate fringe; Rossini on his death-bed,
+drawn by L. Roux, and a page of a score and a cup and saucer used by
+him; a match box of Gounod's, a page of a score, and his marble bust;
+Meyerbeer on his death-bed, drawn by Mousseaux, a decoration worn by
+that composer, and a page of his score; two of Cherubini's tobacco
+boxes and a page of his score; Danton's clay caricature of Liszt--all
+hair and legs--at the piano, and a caricature of Liszt playing the
+piano while Lablache sings and Habeneck conducts; a bust of Fanny
+Cerrito, danseuse, in 1821--with a mischievous pretty face--that
+Cerrito of whom Thomas Ingoldsby rhymed; and a bust of Emma Livry, a
+danseuse of a later day, who died aged twenty-three from injuries
+received from fire during the répétition génerale of the "Muette de
+Portici" on November 15th, 1862. In a little coffer near by are the
+remains of the clothes the poor creature was wearing at the time. What
+else is there? Many busts, among them Delibes the composer of
+"Coppélia," whose grave we shall see in the Cimetière de Montmartre:
+here bearded and immortal; autograph scores by Verdi, Donizetti,
+Victor Massé, Auber, Spontini (whose very early piano also is here),
+and Hérold; a caricature by Isabey of young Vestris bounding in
+mid-air, models of scenes of famous operas, and a host of other things
+all displayed easily in a small but sufficient room. If all museums
+were as compact and single-minded!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A CHAIR AT THE CAFÉ DE LA PAIX
+
+     The Green Hour--In the Stalls of Life--National Contrasts
+     and the Futility of Drawing Them--The Concierge--The
+     Bénéfice Hunters--The Claque--The Paris Theatre--The Paris
+     Music Hall--The Everlasting Joke--The Real French--A Country
+     of Energy--A City of Waiters--Ridicule--Women--Cabmen--The
+     Levelling of the Tourist--French Intelligence--The
+     Chauffeurs--The Paris Spectacle.
+
+
+And now since it is the "green hour"--since it is five o'clock--let us
+take a chair outside the Café de la Paix and watch the people pass,
+and meditate, here, in the centre of the civilised world, on this
+wonderful city of Paris and this wonderful country of France.
+
+I am not sure but that when all is said it is not these outdoor café
+chairs of Paris that give it its highest charm and divide it from
+London with the greatest emphasis. There are three reasons why one
+cannot sit out in this way in London: the city is too dirty; the air
+is rarely warm enough; and the pavements are too narrow. But in Paris,
+which enjoys the steadier climate of a continent and understands the
+æsthetic uses of a pavement, and burns wood, charcoal or anthracite,
+it is, when dry, always possible; and I, for one, rejoice in the
+privilege. This "green hour"--this quiet recess between five and six
+in which to sip an apéritif, and talk, and watch the world, and
+anticipate a good dinner--is as characteristically French as the
+absence of it is characteristically English. The English can sip their
+beverages too, but how different is the bar at which they stand from
+the comfortable stalls (so to speak) in the open-air theatres of the
+Boulevards in which the French take their ease.
+
+At every turn one is reminded that these people live as if the
+happiness of this life were the only important thing; while if we
+subtract a frivolous fringe, it may be said of the English that
+(without any noticeable gain in such advantages as spirituality
+confers) they are always preparing to be happy but have not yet enough
+money or are not yet quite ready to begin. The Frenchman is happy now:
+the Englishman will be happy to-morrow. (That is, at home; yet I have
+seen Englishmen in Paris gathering honey while they might, with both
+hands.)
+
+But the French and English, London and Paris, are not really to be
+compared. London and Paris indeed are different in almost every
+respect, as the capitals of two totally and almost inimically
+different nations must be. For a few days the Englishman is apt to
+think that Paris has all the advantages: but that is because he is on
+a holiday; he soon comes to realise that London is his home, London
+knows his needs and supplies them. Much as I delight in Paris I would
+make almost any sacrifice rather than be forced to live there; yet so
+long as inclination is one's only master how pleasant are her vivacity
+and charm. But comparisons between nations are idle. For a
+Frenchman there is no country like France and no city like Paris; for
+an Englishman England is the best country and London the most
+desirable city. For a short holiday for an Englishman, Paris is a
+little paradise; for a short holiday for a Frenchman, London is a
+little inferno.
+
+  [Illustration: GIRL'S HEAD
+    ÉCOLE DE FABRIANO
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Each country is the best; each country has advantages over the other,
+each country has limitations. The French may have wide streets and
+spacious vistas, but their matches are costly and won't light; the
+English, even in the heart of London, may be contented with narrow and
+muddy and congested lanes, but their sugar at least is sweet.
+
+The French may have abolished bookmakers from their race-courses and
+may give even a cabman a clean napkin to his meals, but their tobacco
+is a monopoly. The English may fill their streets with newspaper
+posters advertising horrors and scandals, but they are permitted now
+and then to forget their vile bodies. The French may piously and
+prettily erect statues of every illustrious child of the State, but
+their billiard tables are now without pockets. London may have a
+cleaner Tube railway system than Paris, but Paris has the advantage of
+no lifts and a correspondence ticket at a trifling cost which will
+take you everywhere, whereas London's Tubes belonging to different
+companies the correspondence is expensive. Again with omnibuses,
+London may have more and better, but here again the useful
+correspondence system is to be found only in Paris.
+
+London may be in darkness for most of the winter and be rained upon by
+soot all the year round; but at any rate the Londoner is master in his
+own house or flat and not the cringing victim of a concierge, as every
+Parisian is. That is something to remember and be thankful for. Paris
+has an atmosphere, and a climate, and good food, and attentive
+waiters, and a cab to every six yards of the kerb, and no petty
+licensing tyrannies, and the Champs-Elysées, and immunity from lurid
+newspaper posters, and good coffee, and the Winged Victory, and Monna
+Lisa; but it also has the concierge. At the entrance to every house is
+this inquisitive censorious janitor--a blend in human shape of
+Cerberus and the Recording Angel. The concierge knows the time you go
+out and (more serious) the time you come in; what letters and parcels
+you receive; what visitors, and how long they stay. The concierge
+knows how much rent you pay and what you eat and drink. And the worst
+of it is that since the concierge keeps the door and dominates the
+house you must put a good face on it or you will lose very heavily.
+Scowl at the concierge and your life will become a harassment: letters
+will be lost; parcels will be delayed; visitors will be told you are
+at home; a thousand little vexations will occur. The concierge in
+short is a rod which, you will observe, it is well to kiss. The wise
+Parisian therefore is always amiable, and generous too, although in
+his heart he wishes the whole system at the devil.
+
+And here I ought to say that although one is thus conscious of
+certain of the defects and virtues of each nation, I have no belief
+whatever in any large interchange of characteristics being possible.
+Nations I think can borrow very little from each other. What is sauce
+for the goose is by no means necessarily sauce for the oie, and the
+meat of an homme can easily be the poison of a man.
+
+The French and the English base life on such different premises. To
+put the case in a nutshell, we may say that the French welcome facts
+and the English avoid them. The French make the most of facts; the
+English persuade themselves that facts are not there. The French write
+books and plays about facts, and read and go to the theatre to see
+facts; the English write books and plays about sentimental unreality,
+and read and go to the theatre in order to be diverted from facts. The
+French live quietly and resignedly at home among facts; the English
+exhaust themselves in games and travel and frivolity and social
+inquisitiveness, in order to forget that they have facts in their
+midst.
+
+One always used to think that the English were the most willing
+endurers of impositions and monopolies; but I have come to the
+conclusion that a people that can continue to burn French matches and
+use French ink and blotting-paper, bend before the concierge and
+suffer the claque and the French theatre attendant, must be even
+weaker. Only a people in love with slavery would continue to endure
+the black bombazined harpies who turn the French theatres into
+infernos, first by their very presence and secondly by their clamour
+for a bénéfice. They do nothing and they levy a tax on it. So far from
+exterminating them, this absurd lenient French people has even allowed
+them to dominate the cinematoscope halls which are now so numerous all
+over Paris. I sit and watch them and wonder what they do all day: in
+what dark corner of the city they hang like bats till the evening
+arrives and they are free to poison the air of the theatres and exact
+their iniquitous secret commission. The habit of London managers to
+charge sixpence for a programme--an advertisement of his wares such as
+every decent and courteous tradesman is proud to give away--is
+sufficiently monstrous; but I can never enough honour them for
+excluding these bénéfice hunters.
+
+Whatever may be said of French acting and French plays there is no
+doubt that our theatres are more comfortable and better managed. A
+Frenchman visiting a theatre in London has no difficulties: he buys
+his seat at the office, is shown to it and the matter ends. An
+Englishman visiting a theatre in Paris has no such ease. He must first
+buy his ticket (and let him scrutinise the change with some care and
+despatch); this ticket, however, does not, as in London, carry the
+number of his seat: it is merely a card of introduction to the three
+gentlemen in evening dress and tall hats who sit side by side in a
+kind of pulpit in the lobby. One of them takes his ticket, another
+consults a plan and writes a number on it, and the third hands it
+back. Another difficulty has yet to come, for now begins the turn of
+the harpies. Why the English custom is not followed, and a clean sweep
+made of both the men in the pulpit and the women inside, one has no
+notion; for in addition to being a nuisance they must reduce the
+profits.
+
+I mentioned the claque just now. That is another of the Frenchman's
+darling bugbears which the English would never stand. Every Frenchman
+to whom I have spoken about it shares my view that it is an
+abomination, but when I ask why it is not abolished he merely shrugs
+his shoulders: "Why should it be?--one can endure it," is the
+attitude; and that indeed is the Frenchman's attitude to most of the
+things that he finds objectionable. They are, after all, only
+trimmings; the real fabric of his life is not injured by them;
+therefore let them go on. Yet while one can understand the persistence
+of certain Parisian defects, the long life of the claque remains a
+mystery. Upon me the periodical and mechanical explosions of this body
+of hirelings have an effect little short of infuriation. One is told
+that the actors are responsible rather than the managers, and this
+makes its continuance the more unreasonable, for the result has been
+that in their efforts to acquire the illusion of applause, they have
+lost the real thing. French audiences rarely clap any more.
+
+When it comes to the consideration of the French stage, there is again
+no point in making comparisons. It is again a conflict of fact and
+sentiment. The French are intensely interested in the manifestations
+of the sexual emotion, and they have no objection to see the
+calamities and embarrassments and humours to which it may lead worked
+out frankly on the boards or in literature: hence a certain sameness
+in their plays and novels. The majority of the English still think
+that physical matters should be hidden: hence our dramatists and
+novelists having had to find other themes, adventure, eccentricity and
+character have won their predominant place. That is all there is to
+it. The French stage is the best--to a Frenchman or a gallicised
+Englishman; the English stage is the best--to the English. The English
+go rather to see; the French to hear. In other words a blind Frenchman
+would be better pleased with his national stage than a blind
+Englishman with his. The blind Frenchman would at any rate not miss
+the jokes, which, though he knew them all before, he could not resist;
+whereas the Englishman would be deprived of the visible touches of
+which the personæ of our drama are largely built up. In a drama of
+passion, whether treated seriously or lightly, words necessarily are
+more than idiosyncrasies.
+
+  [Illustration: LE BÉNÉDICITÉ
+    CHARDIN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+In the Paris music halls the comic singers merely sing--they have
+little but words to give. London music hall audiences may have an
+undue affection for red noses and sordid domestic details; but they do
+expect a little character, even if it is coarse character, during the
+evening, and they get it. There is little in the French hall.
+Personality is discouraged here; richness, quaintness, unction,
+irresponsibility, eccentricity--such gifts as once pleased us in
+Dan Leno and now are to be found in a lesser degree but very agreeably
+in Wilkie Bard--these are superfluities to a French comic singer. All
+that is asked of him is that he shall be active, shall have a resonant
+voice, and shall commit to memory a sufficient number of cynical
+reflections on life. A gramophone producing any rapid indecent song
+would please the French more than a hundred Harry Lauders. (And yet
+when all is said it must be far easier to live in a country where
+decency, as we understand and painfully cultivate it, has not
+everywhere to be considered. The life at any rate of the French
+author, publisher, editor and magistrate, to name no others, is
+immensely simplified.)
+
+But from my point of view the worst characteristic of the French music
+hall and variety stage is the revue. The revue is indeed a standing
+proof of the incontrovertible fact that however the hotel proprietors
+may feel about it, the Parisian does not want English people in his
+midst. (Why should he?) The revue in its quiddity is a device for
+excluding foreigners from theatres; for it is not only dull and
+monotonous, but being for the most part a satire on Parisian politics
+is incomprehensible too. I am not here to defend the English
+pantomime, but not all its agonies (as Ruskin called them) reach such
+a height of tedium as a revue can achieve. A Frenchman ignorant of
+English at Drury Lane on Boxing Night might be bewildered and even
+stunned; but he would at any rate know something of what was happening
+and his eyes would be kept busy. An Englishman at a revue knows
+nothing, for there is no story, and very little money is spent on the
+stage picture: it is just a steady cataract of topical talk. I have
+endured many revues, always hoping against hope that some one would be
+witty or funny, that some ingenious satirical device would occur. But
+I have never been rewarded. No matter what the nominal subject, the
+jokes have been the same: the old old mots à double entente, the old
+old outspoken indecency....
+
+The stream of people continues to be incessant and of incredible
+density--all walking at the same pace, all talking as only the French
+can talk, rich and poor equally owners of the pavement. Now and then a
+camelot offers a toy or a picture postcard; boys bring _La Patrie_ or
+_La Presse_; a performer bends and twists a piece of felt into every
+shape of hat, culminating in Napoleon's famous chapeau à cornes....
+
+One thing that one notices is the absence of laughter. The French
+laugh aloud very seldom. Even in their theatres, at the richest French
+jokes, their approval is expressed rather in a rippling murmur
+counterfeiting surprise than a laugh. Animation one sees, but on these
+Boulevards behind that is often a suggestion of anxiety. The dominant
+type of face seen from a chair at the Café de la Paix is not a happy
+one....
+
+It is when one watches this restless moving crowd, or the complacent
+audiences at the farces, or the diners in restaurants eating as if it
+were the last meal, and when one looks week after week at the comic
+papers of Paris, with their deadly insistence on the one and
+apparently only concern of Parisian life, that one has most of all to
+remind oneself that these people are not the French, and that one is a
+superficial tourist in danger of acquiring very wrong impressions.
+This is the fringe, the froth. One has only to remember a very few of
+the things we have seen in Paris to realise the truth of this. Never
+was a harder working people. Look at the early hours that Paris keeps:
+contrast them with London's slovenly awakening. Look at the amazing
+productivity of a notoriously idle and careless set--the artists: the
+old Salon with its miles of pictures twice a year, and the other
+Salons, hardly less crowded, and the minor exhibitions too. Look at
+the industry of the Paris stage: the new plays that are produced every
+week, involving endless rehearsals day and night. Look at the energy
+of the French authors, dramatic as well as narrative, of the
+journalists and printers. Think of the engineers, the motor-car
+manufacturers, the gardeners and the vintners. Think of the
+bottle-makers. (But one cannot: such a thought causes the head to reel
+in this city of bottles.) No, we are not seeing France, we foreign
+visitors to "the gay capital". Don't let us labour under any such
+mistake. The industrious, level-headed, cheerful French people do not
+exhibit themselves to the scrutinising eyes of the Café de la Paix, do
+not spend all their time as _Le Rire_ would have us believe, do not
+over eat and over drink.
+
+Around and about one all the time, as one watches this panorama, the
+swift and capable waiters are busy. Every one carries away from Paris
+one mastering impression upon the inward eye: I am not sure that mine
+is not a blur of waiters in their long white aprons. At the Paris
+Exhibition of 1900, over the principal entrance at the south-west
+corner of the Place de la Concorde, was the gigantic figure of a young
+and fashionable woman in the very heyday of her vivacity, allurement
+and smartness. She personified Paris. But not so would I symbolise
+that city. In any coat of arms of Paris that I designed would
+certainly be a capable young woman, but also a waiter, sleek,
+attentive and sympathetic.
+
+Paris may be a city of feminine charm and domination; but to the
+ordinary foreigner, and especially the Englishman, it is far more a
+city of waiters. Women we have in England too: but waiters we have
+not. There are waiters in London, no doubt, but that is the end of
+them: there are, to all intents and purposes, no waiters in the
+provinces, where we eat exclusively in our own houses. And even in
+London we must brace ourselves to find such waiters as there are: we
+must indulge in heroic feats of patience, and, once the waiter comes
+into view, exercise most of the vocal organs to attract his notice and
+obtain his suffrages. In other words, there is in London perhaps one
+waiter to every five thousand persons; whereas in Paris there are five
+thousand waiters, more or less, to every one person. Or so it seems.
+It is a city of waiters; it is _the_ city of waiters.
+
+Still the people stream by, and one wonders whence the idea comes that
+the French are a particularly small race. It is not true. Look at
+that tall boulevardier with some one else's hat (why do so many
+Frenchmen seem to be wearing other men's hats?) and the immense beard.
+Look at those two long-haired artists from the Latin Quarter, in
+velvet clothes and black sombreros. In England they would be stared at
+and laughed at; but here no one is laughed at at all, and only the
+women are stared at. It is interesting to note how little street
+ridicule there is in France. The Frenchman mocks, but he does not, as
+I think so many of the English do, search for the ridiculous; or at
+any rate it is not the same kind of ridiculousness that we pillory. In
+England we bring such sandpaper of prejudice and public opinion to
+bear upon eccentricity that every one becomes smooth and
+ordinary--like every one else. But in France--to the superficial
+observer, at any rate--individuality is encouraged and nourished; in
+France either no one is ridiculous or every one is.
+
+Some one once remarked to me that never in Paris do you see a woman
+with any touch of the woods. It is true. The Parisian women suggest
+the boudoir, the theatre, the salon, the sewing-room, the kitchen, and
+now and then even the fields; but never the woods....
+
+One misses also in Paris the boy of from fifteen to eighteen. Younger
+boys there are, and young men abound, but youths of that age one does
+not much see, and very rarely indeed a father and son together. In
+fact the generations seem to mix very little: in the restaurants men
+of the same age are usually together: beards lunch with beards....
+
+And the road is dense too. There is a block every few minutes, while
+the agents in the centre of the carrefour do their best to control the
+four streams of traffic. It is odd that a people with so much sense of
+order and red tape should fail so signally to produce an organiser of
+traffic. Certain it is that the stupidest Kentish giant who joins the
+Metropolitan police force has a better idea of such a duty than any of
+these polished gentlemen in caps. Partly perhaps because in London the
+police are feared and obeyed, and in Paris the drivers, particularly
+the cabmen, care for no one. The words Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité
+are not stencilled all over our churches and public buildings, you
+see.
+
+The cabmen! My impression now is, writing here in England, that the
+Paris cochers are all exactly alike. They have white hats and blue
+coats and bad horses and black moustaches, and their backs entirely
+fill the landscape. They beat their horses and shout at them all the
+time. One seldom sees an accident, although they never look as if they
+were going to avoid one. That is partly because they are a weary and
+cynical folk, and partly because in France the roads belong to
+vehicles, and not, as in England, to foot-passengers. In England if
+you are run over, you can prosecute the driver and get damages; in
+France if you are run over, the driver (one has always heard) can
+prosecute you for being in the way.
+
+  [Illustration: THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS
+    (LOOKING EAST)]
+
+No matter with what fervour is the entente fostered and nourished, the
+Parisian cabman will see to it that the hatchet is never too deeply
+interred, that the racial excrescences are not too smoothly planed.
+Polite hotel managers, obsequious restaurateurs, smiling sommeliers
+and irradiated shopkeepers may do their best to assure the Anglo-Saxon
+that he is among a people that exist merely to do him honour and adore
+his personality; but directly he hails a cab he knows better. The
+truth is then his. Not that the Parisian cocher hates a foreigner.
+Nothing so crude as that. He merely is possessed by a devil of
+contempt that prompts him to humiliate and confound us. To begin with
+he will not appear to want you as a fare; he will make it a favour to
+drive you at all. He will then begin his policy of humorous
+pin-pricks. Though you speak with the accent of Mounet-Sully himself
+he will force you to pronounce the name of your destination not once
+but many times, and then very likely he will drive you somewhere else
+first. You may step into his cab with a feeling that Paris is becoming
+a native city: you will emerge wishing it at the bottom of the sea.
+That is the cocher's special mission in life--subtly and insidiously
+to humiliate the tourist. He does it like an artist and as an
+artist--for his own pleasure. It is the only compensation that his
+dreary life carries.
+
+The French, I fancy, are not less capable of stupidity than any other
+people. There is an idea current that they are the most intelligent of
+races, but I believe this to be a fallacy, proceeding from the fact
+that the French language lends itself to epigrammatic expression, and
+that every French child dips his cup into the common reservoir of
+engaging idioms and adroit phrases. This means that French
+conversation, even among the humblest, is better than English
+conversation under similar and far more favourable conditions; but it
+means no more. It gives no real intelligence. The incapacity of the
+ordinary Frenchman to get enough imagination into his ear (so fine
+that it can distinguish between the most delicate vowel sounds in his
+own language) to enable it to understand a foreign pronunciation is
+partly a proof of this. But take him at any time off his regular
+lines, present a new idea to him, and he can be as stupid as a Sussex
+farm labourer. It is the same with America. Just as the French
+language imposes wit on its user, so is every American, man or woman,
+fitted at birth with the mechanism of humour. Yet how few are
+humorous!
+
+But the cocher is not the only cabman of Paris: there remains the
+driver of the auto. The motor cab has not elbowed out the horse cab in
+Paris as it has in London, nor probably will it, for the Parisians are
+not in a hurry; but for Longchamp and such excursions the auto is
+indispensable, and the motor cabman becomes more and more a
+characteristic of the streets. Our London chauffeurs are sufficiently
+implacable, blunt and churlish, but the Parisian chauffeur is like
+fate. There is no escape if you enter his car: he lights his
+cigarette, sinks his back into his seat, and his shoulders into his
+back, and his head into his shoulders, and drives like the devil. He
+seems to have no life of his own at all: he exists merely to urge his
+car wherever he is told. The foreigner has no hold whatever upon the
+chauffeur; he arranges the meter to whatever tariff he pleases, and
+before you can examine the dial at the end of the journey he has
+jerked up the flag. When you keep him waiting his meter devours your
+substance. Always terrible, he is worst in winter, when he is dressed
+entirely in hearth-rugs. The old cocher for me.
+
+But it grows chilly and it is dinner time. Let us go. Yet first I
+would remind you that we chose the Café de la Paix for our reverie
+only because it is the centre, and we were intent upon the centre. But
+the pavement chairs of all the cafés of Paris are interesting, and it
+is equally good to sit in any populous bourgeois quarter where one can
+watch the daily indigenous life of this city, which the visitor who
+remains for the most part in the visitors' districts can so easily
+miss. The busy, capable girls and women shopping--their pretty
+uncovered heads all so neatly and deftly arranged, and their bags and
+baskets in their hands; the chair mender blowing his horn; the teams
+of white horses, six or eight in single file, with high collars and
+bells, drawing blocks of stone or barrels of wine; the tondeur de
+chiens, with his mournful pipe and box of scissors; the brisk errand
+boys; the neat little milliners with their band-boxes; now and then a
+slovenly soldier and a well-groomed erect agent. Paris as a spectacle
+is perpetually new and amusing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE PLACE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE
+
+     The Christmas Baraques--The Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin--The
+     Rue Laffitte--La Musée Grévin--The Bibliothèque
+     Nationale--The Roar of Finance--Tailors as Cartoonists--A
+     Bee-hive Street--Cities within the City--Pompes
+     Funèbres--The Church as Advertiser--The Great
+     Marguery--Gates which are not Gates--The Life of St.
+     Denis--Highways from Paris--The First Theatre--St. Martin's
+     Act of Charity--The Arts et Métiers; a Modern Cluny--Statues
+     of the Republic.
+
+
+From the Place de l'Opéra to the Place de la République is an
+interesting and instructive walk, but at no time of the day a very
+easy one; and between five o'clock and half-past six, and eight and
+ten, on the north pavement, it is always almost a struggle; but when
+the baraques are in full swing around Christmas and the New Year, it
+is a struggle in earnest, at any rate as far as the Rue Drouot. Indeed
+Christmas and New Year, but especially Christmas Eve and New Year's
+Eve, are great times in France, and presents are exchanged as
+furiously as with us.
+
+On Christmas Eve--Réveillon as it is called--no one would do anything
+so banal as to go to bed. The restaurants obtain a special permission
+to remain open, and tables are reserved months in advance.
+Montmartre, never very sleepy, takes on a double share of wakefulness.
+
+The first street on our left, the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin, is one
+of the busiest in Paris, with excellent shops and many interesting
+associations. Madame Récamier lived at No. 7, the site of the Hôtel
+d'Antin. So also did Madame Necker and Madame Roland, and for a while
+Edward Gibbon. Chopin lived at No. 5. This street, by the way, has
+suffered almost more than any other from the Parisian fickleness in
+nomenclature. It began as the Rue de la Chaussée Gaillon, then Rue de
+l'Hôtel Dieu, then Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin, from Richelieu's Hôtel
+d'Antin, then the Rue Mirabeau, from the revolutionary who lodged and
+died at No. 42, then, when Mirabeau's body was removed ignominiously
+from the Panthéon, the Rue Mont Blanc, and in 1815 it became once
+again the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin.
+
+At the foot of the Rue Laffitte one should stop, because one gets
+there a glimpse of Montmartre's white and oriental cathedral, hanging
+in mid-air, high above Paris and the church of Notre Dame de Lorette.
+This street is, to me, one of the most entertaining in the city, for
+almost every other shop is a picture-dealer's, and to loaf along it,
+on either side, is practically to visit a gallery. Two or three of
+these shops keep as a continual sign the words "Bronzes de Barye". The
+Rue Laffitte was named after the banker Jacques Laffitte, whose bank
+was in the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin. Cerutti, who delivered
+Mirabeau's funeral oration, set up his revolutionary journal _La
+Feuille Villageoise_ here. At the Hôtel Thelusson at the end of the
+street the Incroyables and the Merveilleuses assembled. Among the
+guests was General Buonaparte, and it was here that he first met
+Joséphine Beauharnais.
+
+The Musée Grévin, to which we soon come on the left, is the Parisian
+Tussaud's; and it is as much better than Tussaud's as one would expect
+it to be. Tussaud's is vast and brilliant; the Musée Grévin is small
+and mysterious. There is so little light that every one seems wax, and
+one has to look very narrowly and anxiously at all motionless figures.
+The particular boast of the Grévin is its groups: not so much the Pope
+and his pontifical cortège, the coulisses of the Opera (a scene of
+coryphées and men about town), and the Fête d'Artistes, as the
+admirable tableaux of the Revolution. To the untutored eye of one who,
+like myself, avoids waxworks, the Grévin figures and grouping are good
+and, what is perhaps more important, intelligent. Pains have been
+taken to make costumes and accessories historically accurate, and in
+many cases the actual articles have been employed, notably in the
+largest tableau of all--"Une Soirée à Malmaison"--which was arranged
+under the supervision of Frédéric Masson, the historian, an effigy of
+whom stands near by. Among these scenes the historical sense of the
+French child can be really quickened. There are also tableaux of Rome
+in the time of the early Christians--very clever and painful.
+
+  [Illustration: MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE
+    MADAME LE BRUN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+At the Rue Drouot, at the conjunction of the Boulevards des
+Italiens and de Montmartre, there is an angle. Hitherto we have been
+walking west by north; we now shall walk west by south. From this
+point we shall also observe a difference in the character of the
+street, which will become steadily more bourgeois. At this corner,
+where the traffic is always so congested, owing largely to the
+omnibuses with the three white horses abreast that cross to and from
+the Rue Richelieu, all the best cafés are behind us.
+
+If that £32,000,000 reconstruction scheme of which I have already
+spoken comes to pass, this point will be unrecognisable, for among the
+items in that programme is the uniting of the Boulevard Haussmann,
+which now comes to an abrupt end at the Rue Taitbout, with the
+Boulevard de Montmartre, which, as a glance at the map will show, is
+in a line with it. But my hope is that the improvement will be long
+deferred.
+
+It is in the Rue Richelieu that the Bibliothèque Nationale stands,
+where the foreign resident in Paris may read every day, precisely as
+at the British Museum, provided always that he is certified by his
+Consul to be worthy of a ticket, and the visitor may on certain days
+examine priceless books and autographs, prints and maps and cameos and
+wonderful antiquities. Here once lived Cardinal Mazarin, and it is in
+the galerie that bears his name that the rarest bindings are to be
+seen--some from Grolier's own shelves. Among the MSS. is that of
+Pascal's _Pensées_. The library, which is now perhaps the finest in
+existence, has been built up steadily by the kings of France, even
+from Charlemagne, but Louis XII. was the first of them who may really
+be called a bibliophile, to be worthily followed by François I. It was
+not until 1724, in the reign of Louis XV., that the royal collection
+was removed to this building. The Revolution greatly added to its
+wealth by transferring hither the libraries of the destroyed convents
+and monasteries. The treasures in the Cabinet de Médailles I cannot
+describe; all I can say is that they ought not to be missed. They may
+be called an extension of the Galerie d'Apollon in the Louvre.
+
+Before leaving the Bibliothèque I should add that in certain of its
+rooms, with an entrance in the Rue Vivienne, exhibitions are
+periodically held, and it is worth while to ascertain if one is in
+progress. In the spring of 1908 I saw there a most satisfying display
+of Rembrandt's etchings.
+
+It was in one of the old book-shops in the neighbourhood of the
+Bibliothèque that I received my first impression of the Paris Bourse.
+I was turning over little pocket editions of Voltaire's _Pucelle_ and
+naughty Crébillons and such ancient boudoir fare, when I began to be
+conscious of a sound as of a thousand boys' schools in deadly rivalry.
+On hurrying out to learn the cause I found Paris in its usual
+condition of self-containment and intent progress; no one showed any
+sign of inquisitiveness or excitement; but on the steps of the Bourse
+I observed a shouting, gesticulating mob of men who must, I thought,
+be planning a new Reign of Terror. But no; they were merely financiers
+engaged in the ordinary work of life. The Bourse is free, and I
+climbed the steps, pushed through the money-makers, and entered. Never
+again. I have seen men engaged in the unlovely task of acquiring lucre
+by more or less improper means in various countries, but I never saw
+anything so horrible as the rapacity expressed upon the faces of this
+heated Bourse populace.
+
+Capel Court is not indifferent to the advantages of a successful coup,
+but Capel Court differs from the Bourse not only in a comparative
+retention of its head, but also in a certain superficial appearance of
+careless aristocracy. Capel Court dresses well and keeps time for a
+practical joke now and then. The Bourse is shabby and in the grip of
+avarice. Wall Street and the Chicago pit, I am told, are worse: I have
+not seen them; but no race-course scramble for odds could exceed the
+horrors of that day in the Bourse. The home, by the way, of this daily
+vociferous service of Mammon, was built on the site of the old convent
+of the Filles de St. Thomas. During the Revolution the connection
+between the Bourse and Heaven was even closer, for the church of the
+Petits Pères was then set apart for Exchange purposes.
+
+Returning to the point where we left the Boulevard--at the Rue
+Richelieu--I am moved to ask what would happen in London if Messrs.
+Baker in the Tottenham Court Road or Messrs. Gardiner in Knightsbridge
+were suddenly to break out into caricature and embellish their windows
+with scarifying cartoons of Kings, Kaisers, Presidents and Premiers?
+The question may sound odd, but it is simple enough if you visit the
+High Life tailor at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, or, farther east,
+a similar establishment at the corner of the Rue de Rougemont, for it
+then becomes obvious that it is quite part of the duties of the large
+Parisian clothier to do his part in forming public opinion. These
+cartoons are always bold and clever, although often too municipal for
+the foreigner's apprehension.
+
+I have said somewhere that one of my favourite streets in Paris is the
+Rue Montorgeuil. That is largely, as I have explained, because it is
+old and narrow, and the people swarm in it, and the stalls are so
+many, and the houses are high and white and take the sun so bravely,
+and it smells of Paris; and also, of course, because the Compas d'Or
+is here, bringing the middle ages so nigh. Another favourite is the
+Rue du Faubourg Montmartre (which is now the next on the left
+eastward) for its busy happy shops and its moving multitudes. In its
+own narrow way it is almost as crowded as the Grands Boulevards.
+
+A little way up this street, on the right, is a gateway leading into a
+very curious backwater, as noticeably quiet as the highways are noisy
+and restless: the Cité Bergère, the largest of those cités within a
+cité of which Paris has several, to be compared in London only with
+St. Helen's Place in Bishopsgate or Park Row at Knightsbridge. The
+Cité Bergère is practically nothing but hotels--high and narrow, with
+dirty white walls and dirty green shutters--very cheap, and very
+incurious as to the occupations of their guests, whether male or
+female. It has a gate at each end which is closed at night and
+penetrated thereafter only at the goodwill of the concierge, whom it
+is well to placate. The Cité Bergère leads into the Cité Rougemont
+(hence offering an opportunity to an innkeeper between the two to hang
+out the imposing sign of the Hôtel des Deux Cités), and from the Cité
+Rougemont you gain that district of Paris where the woollen merchants
+congregate.
+
+Returning to the Grands Boulevards, the next street on the left is the
+Rue Rougemont, and if we take this we come in a few moments to the
+Conservatoire, where so many famous musicians have been taught, and
+where Coquelin and Sarah Bernhardt learned the art of elocution. There
+is a little museum at the Conservatoire in which every variety of
+musical instrument is preserved, together with a few personal relics,
+such as a cast of Paganini's nervous magical hand, with its long
+sharply pointed fingers, and the death-mask of Chopin.
+
+Close to the Conservatoire is the darkest church in Paris--Saint
+Eugène, a favourite spot for funeral services. I chanced once to
+stay in a room overlooking this church, until the smell of mortality
+became too constant. There was a funeral every day: every morning
+the undertakers' men were busy in the preparations for the
+ceremony--draping the façade with heavy curtains of a blackness that
+seemed to darken the circumambient air: every afternoon removing it,
+together with the other trappings of the ritual--the candlesticks and
+furniture. It is not without reason that the French undertaker
+ambushes beneath the imposing style of Pompes Funèbres.
+
+It was, by the way, on the walls of Saint Eugène, each side of the
+door, that I first saw any of those curious affiches, made, I suppose,
+necessary, or at any rate prudent, by recent events in France,
+directing notice to--advertising, I almost wrote, and indeed why
+not?--the advantages of religion. Religion (this is what the notice
+came to in essence), religion has its points after all. When President
+Fallières' daughter was married, it remarked, where was the ceremony
+performed? In a church. (Ha, Ha!) Who, it asked, is called to visit a
+man on his death-bed, no matter how wicked he has been? A priest.
+(Touché!) And so forth. Surely a strange document.
+
+In the same street is an old book-stall whose shelves are fastened to
+the wall, giving the appearance of an open-air library for all--the
+Carnegie idea at its best. There used to be one on the side of the
+Hôtel Chatham in the Rue Volney (opposite Henry's excellent American
+Bar) but it has now gone.
+
+We may regain the Boulevards by turning down the long Rue du Faubourg
+Poissonière, which leads direct, through the Rue Montorgeuil, to the
+Halles and the Pont Neuf--a very good walk. Passing Marguery's great
+restaurant on the left, famous for its filet de sole in a special
+sauce, which every one should eat once if only to see the great
+Marguery on his triumphant progress through the rooms, bending his
+white mane over honoured guests, we come to a strange thing--a
+massive archway in the road, parallel with the pavements, which I
+think needs a little explanation. It will take us far from the Grands
+Boulevards: as far, in fact, as _The Golden Legend_; for the arch is
+the Porte St. Denis, and St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris.
+
+  [Illustration: LE PONT DE MANTES
+    COROT
+    _(Louvre: Moreau Collection)_]
+
+St. Denis was not a Frenchman but an Athenian, who was converted by
+St. Paul in person, after considerable discussion. Indeed, discussion
+was not enough: it needed a miracle to win him wholly. "And as," wrote
+Caxton, "S. Denis disputed yet with S. Paul, there passed by adventure
+by that way a blind man tofore them, and anon Denis said to Paul: If
+thou say to this blind man in the name of thy God: See, and then he
+seeth, I shall anon believe in him, but thou shalt use no words of
+enchantment, for thou mayst haply know some words that have such might
+and virtue. And S. Paul said: I shall write tofore the form of the
+words, which be these: In the name of Jesu Christ, born of the virgin,
+crucified and dead, which arose again and ascended into heaven, and
+from thence shall come for to judge the world: See. And because that
+all suspicion be taken away, Paul said to Denis that he himself should
+pronounce the words. And when Denis had said those words in the same
+manner to the blind man, anon the blind man recovered his sight. And
+then Denis was baptized and Damaris his wife and all his meiny, and
+was a true Christian man and was instructed and taught by S. Paul
+three years, and was ordained bishop of Athens, and there was in
+predication, and converted that city, and great part of the region, to
+christian faith."
+
+Denis was sent to France by Pope Clement, and he converted many
+Parisians and built many churches, until the hostile strategy of the
+Emperor Domitian prevailed and he was tortured, the scene of the
+tragedy being Montmartre. "The day following," says Caxton, "Denis was
+laid upon a gridiron, and stretched all naked upon the coals of fire,
+and there he sang to our Lord saying: Lord thy word is vehemently
+fiery, and thy servant is embraced in the love thereof. And after that
+he was put among cruel beasts, which were excited by great hunger and
+famine by long fasting, and as soon as they came running upon him he
+made the sign of the cross against them, and anon they were made most
+meek and tame. And after that he was cast into a furnace of fire, and
+the fire anon quenched, and he had neither pain ne harm. And after
+that he was put on the cross, and thereon he was long tormented, and
+after, he was taken down and put into a dark prison with his fellows
+and many other Christian men.
+
+"And as he sang there the mass and communed the people, our Lord
+appeared to him with great light, and delivered to him bread, saying:
+Take this, my dear friend, for thy reward is most great with me. After
+this they were presented to the judge and were put again to new
+torments, and then he did do smite off the heads of the three fellows,
+that is to say, Denis, Rusticus, and Eleutherius, in confessing the
+name of the holy Trinity. And this was done by the temple of Mercury,
+and they were beheaded with three axes. And anon the body of S. Denis
+raised himself up, and bare his head between his arms, as the angel
+led him two leagues from the place, which is said the hill of the
+martyrs, unto the place where he now resteth, by his election, and by
+the purveyance of God. And there was heard so great and sweet a melody
+of angels that many of them that heard it believed in our Lord."
+
+Any one making the pilgrimage from, say, Notre Dame to the town of St.
+Denis to-day, can follow the saint's footsteps, for the Rue St. Denis
+at the foot of Montmartre leads out into the Rue du Faubourg St.
+Denis, and that street right over Montmartre, Caxton's hill of the
+martyrs, to St. Denis itself. I do not pretend that the legend as it
+is thus given has not been subjected to severe criticism; but when one
+has no certain knowledge, the best story can be considered the best
+evidence, and I like Caxton better than the others, even though it
+conflicts a little with the legend of St. Geneviève. It is she, I
+might add, who is credited with having inaugurated the pilgrimage to
+St. Denis's bones.
+
+The Rue St. Denis was more than the road to the saint's remains: it
+was the great north road out of Paris to the sea. Just as the old
+Londoners bound for the north left by the City Road and passed through
+the village of Highgate, so did the French traveller leave by the Rue
+St. Denis and pass through the village of St. Denis. Similarly the Rue
+St. Martin was the high-road to Germany. In the old days, when this
+street was a highway, the Porte St. Denis had some meaning, for it
+stood as a gateway between the city and the country; but to-day, when
+the course of traffic is east and west, it stands (like the Porte St.
+Martin) merely as an obstruction in the Grand Boulevard--not quite so
+foolish as our own revised Marble Arch, but nearly so. The Porte St.
+Denis dates from 1673 and celebrates, as the bas-reliefs indicate, the
+triumphs of Louis XIV. in Germany and Holland; the Porte St. Martin
+(to which we are just coming) belongs to the same period and
+commemorates other successes of the same monarch.
+
+The Rue St. Denis is one of the most entertaining of the old streets
+of Paris, although adulterated a little by omnibuses and a sense of
+commerce. But to have boundless time before one, and no cares, and no
+fatigue, and starting at the Porte St. Denis to loiter along it
+prepared to penetrate every inviting court and alluring
+by-street--that is a great luxury. The first theatre in Paris, and
+indeed in France, was in the Hospital of the Trinity in the Rue St.
+Denis. That was early in the fifteenth century, and it was designed
+for the performance of Mystery plays in which the protagonist was, of
+course, Jesus Christ. Paris has now many theatres, with other ideals;
+but whatever their programmes may be, they proceed from that early and
+pious spring.
+
+We come next to the Boulevard de Strasbourg, running north to the Gare
+de l'Est, and the Boulevard de Sébastopol, running south to the Ile de
+la Cité; and then to the second archway, the Porte St. Martin. St.
+Martin (who was Bishop of Tours) lived in Paris for a while, and it
+was here that he performed the miracle of healing a leper by embracing
+him--an act commemorated by Henri I. in the founding of the Priory of
+St. Martin, which stood a little way down the Rue St. Martin on the
+left, on a site on which the Musée des Arts et Métiers now stands. But
+it was at Amiens that the saint's most beautiful act--the gift of his
+cloak to a beggar--was performed, and perhaps I may be allowed to
+quote here, from another book of mine, the translation of a poem by M.
+Haraucourt, the curator of the Cluny museum, celebrating that deed:--
+
+       CHARITY
+
+     Because so bitter was the rain,
+     Saint Martin cut his cloak in twain,
+       And gave the beggar half of it
+     To cover him and ease his pain.
+
+     But being now himself ill clad,
+     The Saint's own case was no less sad.
+       So piteously cold the night;
+     Though glad at heart he was, right glad.
+
+     Thus, singing, on his way he passed,
+     While Satan, grim and overcast,
+       Vowing the Saint should rue his deed,
+     Released the cruel Northern blast.
+
+     Away it sprang with shriek and roar,
+     And buffeted the Saint full sore,
+       Yet never wished he for his cloak;
+     So Satan bade the deluge pour.
+
+     Huge hail-stones joined in the attack,
+     And dealt Saint Martin many a thwack,
+       "My poor old head!" he smiling said,
+     Yet never wished his cape were back.
+
+     "He must, he shall," cried Satan, "know
+     Regret for such an act," and lo,
+       E'en as he spoke the world was dark
+     With fog and frost and whirling snow.
+
+     Saint Martin, struggling toward his goal,
+     Mused thoughtfully, "Poor soul! poor soul!
+       What use to him was half a cloak?
+     I should have given him the whole."
+
+     The cold grew terrible to bear,
+     The birds fell frozen in the air:
+       "Fall thou," said Satan, "on the ice
+     Fall thou asleep, and perish there."
+
+     He fell, and slept, despite the storm,
+     And dreamed he saw the Christ Child's form
+       Wrapped in the half the beggar took,
+     And seeing Him, was warm, so warm.
+
+The Arts et Métiers is a museum devoted to the progress of mechanics
+and the useful crafts: a kind of industrial exhibition, a modern
+utilitarian Cluny. It is a memorial of the world's ingenuity and the
+ingenuity of France in particular, and one cannot have a much better
+reminder that the frivolity of the Grands Boulevards is not all.
+Apropos, however, of the frivolity of the Grands Boulevards, I may say
+that the case that was attracting most interest on the Sunday that I
+was here contained a collection of all the best mechanical toys of the
+past dozen years, with their dates affixed. The only article in the
+vast building which seemed to serve no useful purpose was a mirror
+cracked during the Commune by a bullet, with the bullet still in it.
+In the square opposite the Musée is the statue of Béranger, who for
+many years made the ballads of the French nation.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PORTE ST. DENIS
+    (SOUTH FAÇADE)]
+
+Returning to the Grands Boulevards once more, we pass first the Porte
+St. Martin theatre, where the great Coquelin played Cyrano, and where
+he was rehearsing _Chantecler_ when he died, and then the Ambigu, home
+of sensational melodrama, and come very shortly to the Place de la
+République, with its great central monument. The Republic thus
+celebrated is not merely the Third and present Republic, but all the
+efforts in that direction which the French have made, as the twelve
+reliefs round the base will show, for they begin with the scene in the
+Jeu de Paume in 1789, and end with the National Fête on July 14th,
+1880. Paris would still have statues of the République if this were to
+go, for there is one by Dalou, the sculptor of these bas-reliefs, in
+the Place de la Nation, and another by Soitoux at the Institut. Dalou
+(whose work we saw in such profusion at the Little Palace in the
+Champs-Elysées) made a very spirited and characteristic group, with
+the Republic standing high on a chariot being drawn by lions and urged
+forward by an ouvrier and an ouvrière.
+
+There is another and hardly less direct walk eastward to the Place de
+la République, which, taken slowly and amusedly, instructs one as
+fully in the manners of the busy small Parisian as the Boulevards in
+those of the flâneur. This route is by the Rue de Provence, the Rue
+Richer, the Rue des Petites-Ecuries and the Rue Château
+d'Eau--practically a straight line, and in the old days a highway. You
+see the small Parisian at his busiest--at her busiest--this way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+MONTMARTRE
+
+     Steep Streets--The Musée Moreau--The
+     Sacré-Coeur--Françoise-Marguerite--Paris and Her
+     Beggars--A Ferocious Cripple--The Communard
+     Insurrection--The Maison Dufayel--Heinrich Heine--The
+     Cimetière de Montmartre--The Boulevard de Clichy--Cabarets
+     Good and Bad--An Aged Statesman is Entertained--Three
+     Bals--Paris and Late Hours--The Night Cafés--The Tireless
+     Dancers--A Coat-tail--The Dead Maître d'Hôtel.
+
+
+One may gain Montmartre by every street that runs off the Grands
+Boulevards on the left, between the Opéra and the Place de la
+République; but when the night falls and the tide begins to turn that
+way, it is the Rue Blanche and the Rue Pigalle that do most of the
+work. All are very steep. To the wayfarer climbing the hill in no
+hurry, I recommend for its interest the Rue des Martyrs (Balzac once
+lived at No. 47), leading out of the Rue Laffitte; or, starting from
+the Boulevards at a more easterly point, one may gain it by the Rue du
+Faubourg Montmartre, which runs into the Rue des Martyrs at Notre Dame
+de Lorette and is full of activity and variety.
+
+By taking the Rue de la Rochefoucauld one may spend a few minutes in a
+little white building there which was once the home and studio of the
+painter Gustave Moreau and is now left to the nation as a permanent
+memorial of his labours. In industry the man must have approached
+Rubens and Rembrandt, for this, though a large house, is literally
+filled with paintings and drawings and studies, which not only cover
+the walls but cover screens built into the walls, and screens within
+screens, and screens within those. The menuisier and Moreau together
+have contrived to make No. 14 Rue de la Rochefoucauld the most tiring
+house in Paris--at least to me, who do not admire the work of this
+painter, or at any rate do not want to see more of it than is in the
+Luxembourg, where may be seen several of his pictures, including the
+most famous of all, the Salome. Herr Baedeker considers that Moreau's
+works have a charm of their own, but I do not find it. I find a
+striving after the grandiose and startling, with only occasional
+lapses into sincerity and good colour. It is better than Wiertz, no
+doubt; but less entertaining, because less shocking.
+
+Montmartre's life may for our purpose be divided into three distinct
+periods: day, evening, and the small hours. By day one may roam its
+streets of living and of dead and study Paris from its summit; in the
+evening its cabarets are in full swing; and then comes midnight when
+its supper cafés open, not to close or cease their melodies until the
+shops are doing business again.
+
+Montmartre (so called because it was here that St. Denis and his
+associates were put to death) really is a mountain, as any one who
+has climbed to the Sacré-Coeur can tell. The last two hundred yards
+are indeed nearly as steep as the Brecon Beacons; but the climb is
+worth it if only for the view of Paris. (There is, however, a
+funicular railway.) As for the cathedral, that seems to me to be
+better seen and appreciated from the distance: from the train as one
+enters Paris in the late afternoon, with the level sun lighting its
+pure walls; from the heights on the south side of the river; from the
+Boulevard des Italiens up the Rue Laffitte; and from the
+Buttes-Chaumont, as in Mr. Dexter's exquisite drawing. For the
+cathedral itself is not particularly attractive near at hand, and
+within it is cold and dull and still awaiting its glass. It was,
+however, one of the happiest thoughts that has come to Rome in our
+time to set this fascinating bizarre Oriental building here. It gave
+Paris a new note that it will now never lose.
+
+Before leaving, one ought perhaps to have a peep at
+Françoise-Marguerite, for one is not likely to see her equal again.
+Françoise-Marguerite, otherwise known as La Savoyarde de Montmartre,
+is the great bell given to the cathedral by the province of Savoy. She
+weighs nineteen tons, is nine feet tall, and her voice has remarkable
+timbre.
+
+Behind the new cathedral lies the old church of St.
+Pierre-de-Montmartre, on the side of which, it is said, once stood a
+temple of Mars. (Hence, for some lexicographers, Mont-Mars and
+Montmartre; but I prefer to think of St. Denis wandering here without
+his head.) It was in the crypt of this church, I have somewhere read,
+that Ignatius Loyola, with Xavier and Laine, founded the order of
+Jesuits.
+
+I attended early mass at the Sacré-Coeur church on January 1st,
+1908. It was snowing lightly and very cold, and as I came away, at
+about eight, and descended the hill towards Paris, I was struck by the
+spectacle of the lame and blind and miserable men and women who were
+appearing mysteriously from nowhere to descend the hill too, groping
+and hobbling down the slippery steepnesses. Such folk are an uncommon
+sight in Paris, where every one seems to be, if not robust, at any
+rate active and capable, and where, although it eminently belongs to
+the poor as much as to the rich, extreme poverty is rarely seen. In
+London, where the poor convey no possessive impression, but, except in
+their own quarters, suggest that they are here on sufferance, one sees
+much distress. In Paris none, except on this day, the first of the
+year--and on one or two others, such as July 14th--when beggars are
+allowed to ask alms in the streets. For the rest of the year they must
+hide their misery and their want, although I still tremble a little as
+I remember the importunities of the Montmartre cripple of ferocious
+aspect and no legs at all, fixed into a packing-case on wheels, who,
+having demanded alms in vain, hurls himself night after night along
+the pavement after the hard-hearted, urging his torso's chariot by
+powerful strokes of his huge hands on the pavement, as though he
+rowed against Leander, with such menacing fury that I for one have
+literally taken to my heels. He is the only beggar I recollect meeting
+except on the permitted days, and then Paris swarms with them.
+
+Standing on the dome of the cathedral one has the city at one's feet,
+not as wonderfully as on the Eiffel Tower, but nearly so. From the
+Buttes-Chaumont we see Montmartre: here we see the Buttes-Chaumont,
+which, before it was a park, shared with Montmartre the gypsum
+quarries from which plaster of Paris is made. Beyond the
+Buttes-Chaumont is Père Lachaise, a hill strangely mottled by its
+grave-stones, while immediately below us is the Cimetière du Nord,
+which we are about to visit for the sake of certain very interesting
+tombs.
+
+One realises quickly the strategical value of this mountain. Paris has
+indeed been bombarded from it twice--by Henri IV., and again, only
+thirty-eight years ago. It was indeed on Montmartre that the Communard
+insurrection began, for it was the cannon on these heights that the
+rebel soldiers at once made for after the assassination of their
+officers. They held them for a while, but were then overpowered and
+forced to take up their quarters in the Buttes-Chaumont and Père
+Lachaise, which were shelled by the National Guard from Montmartre
+until the brief but terrible mutiny was over.
+
+The great dome, close by us on the left, which might be another
+Panthéon, crowns the Maison Dufayel. Who is Dufayel? you ask. Well,
+who is Wanamaker, who was Whiteley? M. Dufayel is the head of the
+gigantic business in the Boulevard Barbès, a northern continuation of
+the Boulevard de Magenta. His advertisements are on every hoarding. I
+think the Maison Dufayel is well worth a visit, especially as there is
+no need to buy anything: you may instead sip an apéritif, listen to
+the band or watch the cinematoscope. One also need have none of that
+fear of what would happen were there to be a sudden panic which always
+keeps me nervous if ever I am lured into the Magasins du Louvre or the
+Galeries Lafayette; for at Dufayel's there is space, whereas at those
+vast shopping centres there is a congestion that, in a time of stress
+would lead to perfectly awful results. The Maison Dufayel is not so
+varied a repository as Wanamaker's or Whiteley's: but in its way it is
+hardly less remarkable. Its principal line is furniture, and I never
+saw so many beds in my life. It was M. Dufayel who brought to
+perfection the deposit system of payment, and his agents continually
+range the otherwise pleasant land of France, collecting instalments.
+
+Since I had wandered into this monstrous establishment, which may not
+be as large as Harrod's Stores but feels infinitely vaster, I
+determined to buy something, and decided at last upon a French
+picture-book for an English child. Buying it was a simple operation,
+but I then made the mistake of asking that it might be sent to England
+direct. One should never do that in a bureaucratic country. The lady
+led me for what seemed several miles through various departments
+until we came late in the day to rows and rows of Frenchmen and
+Frenchwomen each in a little glass box. These boxes were numbered and
+ran to hundreds. We stopped at last before, say, 157, where my guide
+left me. The Frenchman in the box denied at once that the book could
+go by post. It was too large. It must go by rail. For myself, I did
+not then care how it went or if it went at all: I was tired out. But
+feeling that such an act as to abandon the parcel and run would be
+misconstrued and resented in a home of such perfect mechanical order,
+I waited until he had written for a quarter of an hour in a fine
+flowing hand with a pen sharper than a serpent's tooth, and then I
+paid the required number of francs and set out on the desperate errand
+of finding the street again. The book was a week on its journey. Go to
+Dufayel's, I say, most certainly, for it is quite amusing; but go when
+you are young and strong.
+
+To me the most interesting thing on Montmartre is the grave of
+Heinrich Heine in the Cimetière du Nord, a strange irregular city of
+dead Parisians all tidily laid away in their homes in its many
+streets, over which a busy rumbling thoroughfare has been carried on a
+viaduct. I had Heine's _Salon_ with me when I was last in Paris, and I
+sought his grave again one afternoon with an increased sense of
+intimacy. A medallion portrait of the mournful face is cut in the
+marble, and on the grave itself are wistful echoes of the _Buch der
+Lieder_. A little tin receptacle is fixed to the stone, and I looked
+at the cards which in the pretty German way visitors had left upon
+the poet and his wife; for Frau Heine lies too here. All were German
+and all rain-soaked (or was it tears?)
+
+  [Illustration: LA PROVENDE DES POULES
+    TROYON
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+Matthew Arnold in his poem called Heine's grave black: the present one
+is white. How do the lines run?
+
+     "_Henri Heine_"----'tis here!
+     That black tombstone, the name
+     Carved there--no more! and the smooth,
+     Swarded alleys, the limes
+     Touch'd with yellow by hot
+     Summer, but under them still,
+     In September's bright afternoon,
+     Shadow, and verdure, and cool.
+     Trim Montmartre! the faint
+     Murmur of Paris outside;
+     Crisp everlasting-flowers,
+     Yellow and black, on the graves.
+
+     Half blind, palsied, in pain,
+     Hither to come, from the streets'
+     Uproar, surely not loath
+     Wast thou, Heine!--to lie
+     Quiet, to ask for closed
+     Shutters, and darken'd room,
+     And cool drinks, and an eased
+     Posture, and opium, no more;
+     Hither to come, and to sleep
+     Under the wings of Renown.
+
+     Ah! not little, when pain
+     Is most quelling, and man
+     Easily quell'd, and the fine
+     Temper of genius so soon
+     Thrills at each smart, is the praise,
+     Not to have yielded to pain
+     No small boast, for a weak
+     Son of mankind, to the earth
+     Pinn'd by the thunder, to rear
+     His bolt-scathed front to the stars;
+     And, undaunted, retort
+     'Gainst thick-crashing, insane,
+     Tyrannous tempests of bale,
+     Arrowy lightnings of soul
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Ah! as of old, from the pomp
+     Of Italian Milan, the fair
+     Flower of marble of white
+     Southern palaces--steps
+     Border'd by statues, and walks
+     Terraced, and orange-bowers
+     Heavy with fragrance--the blond
+     German Kaiser full oft
+     Long'd himself back to the fields,
+     Rivers, and high-roof'd towns
+     Of his native Germany; so,
+     So, how often! from hot
+     Paris drawing-rooms, and lamps
+     Blazing, and brilliant crowds,
+     Starr'd and jewell'd, of men
+     Famous, of women the queens
+     Of dazzling converse--from fumes
+     Of praise, hot, heady fumes, to the poor brain
+     That mount, that madden--how oft
+     Heine's spirit outworn
+     Long'd itself out of the din,
+     Back to the tranquil, the cool
+     Far German home of his youth
+
+     See! in the May-afternoon,
+     O'er the fresh, short turf of the Hartz,
+     A youth, with the foot of youth,
+     Heine! thou climbest again.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     But something prompts me: Not thus
+     Take leave of Heine! not thus
+     Speak the last word at his grave!
+     Not in pity, and not
+     With half censure--with awe
+     Hail, as it passes from earth
+     Scattering lightnings, that soul!
+
+     The Spirit of the world,
+     Beholding the absurdity of men--
+     Their vaunts, their feats--let a sardonic smile,
+     For one short moment wander o'er his lips.
+     _That smile was Heine!_--for its earthly hour
+     The strange guest sparkled; now 'tis passed away.
+
+     That was Heine! and we,
+     Myriads who live, who have lived,
+     What are we all, but a mood,
+     A single mood, of the life
+     Of the Spirit in whom we exist,
+     Who alone is all things in one?
+     Spirit, who fillest us all!
+     Spirit, who utterest in each
+     New-coming son of mankind
+     Such of thy thoughts as thou wilt!
+     O thou, one of whose moods,
+     Bitter and strange, was the life
+     Of Heine--his strange, alas,
+     His bitter life!--may a life
+     Other and milder be mine!
+     May'st thou a mood more serene,
+     Happier, have utter'd in mine!
+     May'st thou the rapture of peace
+     Deep have embreathed at its core;
+     Made it a ray of thy thought,
+     Made it a beat of thy joy!
+
+Heine has many illustrious companions. If you would stand by the grave
+of Berlioz and Ambroise Thomas, of Offenbach, who set all Europe
+humming, of Delibes the composer of Genée's "Coppélia," of the
+brothers Goncourt, of Renan, who wrote the _Life of Christ_, or of
+Henri Murger, who discovered Bohemia, of De Neuville, painter of
+battles, of Halévy and Meilhac the playwrights, or of Théophile
+Gautier the poet, you must seek the Cimetière du Nord.
+
+Montmartre in the evening centres in the Boulevard de Clichy--a
+high-spirited thoroughfare. Many foreigners visit it only then, and
+the Boulevard spreads its wares accordingly, and very tawdry some of
+them are. Here, for example, is a garish façade labelled "Ciel," in
+which a number of grubby blackguards dressed as saints and angels
+first bring refreshments at a franc a glass, and then offer the
+visitor a "prêche humoristique" followed by variations of Pepper's
+ghost in what are called "scènes paradisiaques," the whole performance
+being cold, tawdry and very stupid. Next door is "Enfer," where
+similar delights are offered, save that here the suggestion is not of
+heaven but hell. Instead therefore of grubby blackguards as saints we
+have grubby blackguards as devils. On the opposite side of the road is
+the Cabaret du Néant, where you are received with a mass for the dead
+sung by the staff, and sit at tables made of coffins.
+
+It is hardly necessary to say that very few Parisians enter these
+places. The singing cabarets, however, are different: they are
+genuine, and one needs to be not only a Parisian but a very
+well-informed Parisian to appreciate them, for the songs are
+palpitatingly topical and political. The Quatz'-Arts, the Lune-Rousse
+and the Chat-Noir (once so famous, but now lacking in the genius
+either of Salis, its founder, or of Caran d'Ache, Steinlen or
+Willette, who helped to make it renowned) are all in the Boulevard de
+Clichy. So also is Aristide Bruant's cabaret, where an organised shout
+of welcome awaits every visitor, and Aristide--in costume a cross
+between a poet and a cowboy--sings his realistic ballads of Parisian
+street life. Here also is the Moulin-Rouge, which in the old days of
+the elephant was in its spurious way amusing, but is now rebuilt and
+redecorated out of knowledge, and for all the words you hear might be
+on Broadway.
+
+Here also, at the extreme western end of the Boulevard, is the
+Hippodrome, now a hippodrome only in name and given up to the popular
+cinematoscope. I regret the loss of the real Paris Hippodrome. Paris
+still has her permanent circuses, but the Hippodrome is gone. It was
+there that, one night, in 1889, I chanced to sit very near the royal
+box, into which, with much bowing and scraping of managers, a
+white-haired old gentleman with the features of a lion and an eagle
+harmoniously blended was ushered. He was only seventy-nine, this old
+gentleman, and he was in the thick of such duties as fall to the
+Leader of the Opposition and promoter of Home Rule for Ireland; but he
+followed every step of the performance like a schoolboy, and now and
+then he sent for an official to have something explained to him, such
+as, on one occasion, the workings of the artificial snow-storm which
+overwhelmed Skobeleff's army. That ill-fated Russian general was the
+hero of the spectacle, a remarkable one in its way; but to me the
+restless animation and whole-hearted enjoyment of Mr. Gladstone was
+the finer entertainment.
+
+Montmartre has also three dancing halls, two of which are genuine and
+one a show-place. The genuine halls are the Moulin-de-la-Galette, high
+on the hill on the steepest part of it above the Moulin-Rouge, and the
+Elysée in the Boulevard de Rochechouart, which are open only two or
+three times a week and which are thronged by the shop-assistants and
+young people of the neighbourhood. The spurious hall is the Bal
+Tabarin, which is open every evening and is a spectacle. It is,
+however, by no means unamusing, and I have spent many pleasant idle
+hours there. Willette's famous fresco of the apotheosis of the
+Parisian leg decorates a wall-space over the bar with peculiar
+fitness. At all the bals the men who dance retain their hats and often
+their overcoats, and for the most part leave their partners with
+amazing abruptness at the last step. Some of the measures are
+conspicuous for a lack of restraint that would decimate an English
+ballroom; but one must not take such displays "at the foot of the
+letter": they do not mean among these Latin romps and frolics what
+they would mean with us, whose emotions are less facile and sense of
+fun less physical.
+
+And so we come to midnight, when Montmartre enters its third, and, to
+a Londoner exasperated by the grandmotherly legislation of his own
+city, its most entertaining phase. The idea that Paris is a late city
+is an illusion. Paris is not a late city: it is a city with a few late
+streets. Paris as a whole goes to bed as early as London, if not
+earlier, as a walk in the residential quarters will prove. Montmartre
+is late, and the Boulevards des Capucines and des Italiens are late,
+although less so; and that is about all. When it is remembered that
+Paris rises and opens its shops some hours earlier than London, and
+that the Parisians value their health, it will be recognised that
+Paris could not be a late city. One must remember also that the number
+of all-night cafés is very small, so small that by frequenting them
+with any diligence one may soon come to know by sight most of the late
+fringe of this city, both amateurs and professionals. One is indeed
+quickly struck by their numerical weakness.
+
+There is a fashion in night cafés as in hats; change is made as
+suddenly and as inexplicably. One month every one is crowding into,
+let us say, the Chat Vivant, and the next the Chat Vivant kindles its
+lamps and tweaks its mandolins in vain: all the world passes its doors
+on the way to the Nid de Nuit. What is the reason? No one knows
+exactly; but we must probably once again seek the woman. A new dancer
+(or shall I say attachée?) has appeared, or an old dancer or attachée
+transferred her allegiance. And so for a while the Nid has not a free
+table after one o'clock, and on a special night--such as Mi-Carême, or
+Réveillon, or New Year's Eve--it is the head-waiter and the
+door-keeper of the Nid into whose hands are pressed the gold coins
+and bank notes to influence them to admit the bloods and their parties
+and find them a table. A year ago the douceur (often fruitless) would
+have gone to the officials of the Chat Vivant.
+
+They remain, when all has been said against them, simple and
+well-mannered places, these half-dozen famous cafés on which the sun
+always rises. To think so one must perhaps graduate on the Boulevards,
+but once they are accepted they can become an agreeable habit.
+Sleepiness is as unknown there as the writings of Thomas à Kempis. Not
+only the dancers de la maison but the visitors too are tireless. There
+may be ways of getting ennui into a Parisian girl, but certainly it is
+not by dancing. Nor does the band tire either, one excellent rule at
+all of them being that there should be no pause whatever between the
+tunes, from the hour of opening until day.
+
+  [Illustration: THE WINDMILL
+    R. P. BONINGTON
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+There lies before me as I write an amusing memorial of the innocent
+high spirits that can prevail on such a special all-night sitting as
+Réveillon: one of the tails of a dress coat, lined with white satin on
+which a skilful hand has traced with a fountain pen (my own) two very
+intimate scenes of French life. These drawings were made between five
+and six in the morning in the intervals of the dance, the artist,
+lacking paper, having without a word taken a table knife and shorn off
+his coat-tails for the purpose. His coat, I may say, was already being
+worn inside out, with one of the leather buckles of his braces as a
+button-hole. A tall burly man, with a long red Boulevard beard, he had
+thrown out signs of friendliness to me at once, and we became as
+brothers. He drew my portrait on the table-cloth; I affected to draw
+his. He showed me where I was wrong and drew it right. He then left
+me, in order to walk for a while on an imaginary tight-rope across the
+floor, and having safely made the journey and turned again, with
+infinite skill in his recoveries from falling and the most dexterous
+managing of a balancing-pole that did not exist, he leaped lightly to
+earth again, kissed his hand to the company, and again sat by me and
+resumed his work; finally, after other diversions, completing the chef
+d'oeuvre that is now lying on my desk and lending abandon to what is
+otherwise a stronghold of British decorum. We parted at seven. I have
+never seen him since, but I find his name often in the French comic
+papers illustrating yet other phases of their favourite pleasantry for
+the entertainment of this simple and tireless people.
+
+Another incident I recall that is equally characteristic of
+Montmartre. "Ça ne fait rien," said a head-waiter when we had
+expressed regret on hearing of the death of the maître d'hotel, for
+whom (an old acquaintance) we had been asking. "Ça ne fait rien: it is
+necessary to order supper just the same." True. True indeed
+everywhere, but particularly true on Montmartre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE ELYSÉE TO THE HÔTEL DE VILLE
+
+     The Most Interesting Streets--Pet Aversions--The Rue de la
+     Paix--The Vendôme Column--A Populous Church--The Whiff of
+     Grapeshot--Alfred de Musset--The Molière Quarter--A Green
+     and White Oasis--Camille Desmoulins at the Café de
+     Foy--Charles Lamb in Paris--The Cloître de St. Honoré--The
+     Massacre of St. Bartholomew--St. Germain of Auxerre--A
+     Satisfied Corpse--Catherine de Médicis' Observatory--St.
+     Eustache--A Wonderful Organ-The Halles--French Economy and
+     English Want of It--The Goat-herd--The Assassination of
+     Henri IV.--The Tour St. Jacques-Pascal, Theologian and
+     Inventor of Omnibuses--A Sinister Spot--The Paris
+     Town-hall--A Riot of Frescoes--Etienne Marcel--The Hôtel de
+     Ville and Politesse--An Ancient Palace--Old Streets--Madame
+     de Beauvais' Mansion--A Quiet Courtyard--The Church of St.
+     Paul and St. Louis--Rabelais' Grave.
+
+
+The Elysée, the official home of the French president--Paris's White
+House and Buckingham Palace--is situated in the Rue du Faubourg
+Saint-Honoré, which is one of the most entertaining streets in the
+whole city in which to loiter; that is, if you like, as I do, the
+windows of curiosity dealers and jewellers and print shops. Not that
+bargains are to be obtained here: far from it: it is not like the Rue
+des Saints Pères or the Rue Mazarine across the river; but merely as a
+series of windows it is fascinating. I like it as much as I dislike
+the Rue Lafayette, which has always been my aversion, not only because
+it is interminable and commercial and noisy, but because it leads back
+to England and work; yet since, however, when one arrives in Paris it
+leads from England and work, I must be a little lenient, and there is
+also a café in it where the diamond merchants compare gems quite
+openly.
+
+Remembering these extenuating circumstances I unhesitatingly award the
+palm for undesirability in a Paris street to the Rue du
+Quatre-Septembre and the Rue Réaumur, which are sheer Shaftesbury
+Avenue, and, as in Shaftesbury Avenue, cause one to regret the older
+streets and houses whose place they have usurped. The Rue de Rivoli I
+dislike too: that strange mixture of very good hotels (the Meurice,
+for instance, is here) and rubbishy shops full of tawdry jewellery to
+catch the excursionist. How it happened that such a site should have
+been allowed to fall into such hands is a mystery. An additional
+objection to the Rue de Rivoli is that the one English acquaintance
+whom one least wishes to meet is always there.
+
+The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré becomes the Rue Saint-Honoré at the
+Rue Royale. The Rue Saint-Honoré is also a good street for shop
+windows, but not the equal of its more aristocratic half; just as that
+is surpassed here by the Rue de la Paix, to which we now come on the
+left, and which contains more things that I can do without, made to
+perfection, than any street I ever saw. At its foot is the Place
+Vendôme, with the beautiful column in the midst on which Napoleon's
+campaign of 1805 is illustrated in a bronze spiral that constitutes at
+once, I suppose, the most durable and the longest picture in the
+world. The bronze came very properly from the melted Russian and
+Austrian cannons. Napoleon stands at the top, imperially splendid; but
+as we saw in the chapter on the "Ile de la Cité," it was not always
+so: for his first statue was removed by Louis XVIII. to be used for
+the new Henri IV. In its stead a fleur-de-lys surmounted the column.
+Then came Louis-Philippe, who erected a new statue of the Emperor,
+not, however, imperially clad; and then Napoleon III., who substituted
+the present figure. But in 1870 the Communards succeeded in bringing
+the column down, and it has only been vertical again since 1875. Thus
+it is to be a Paris monument!
+
+Returning to the Rue Saint-Honoré, in which, by the way, are several
+old and interesting houses, such as No. 271, the Cabaret du
+Saint-Esprit, a great resort in the Reign of Terror of spectators
+wishing to see the tumbrils pass, and No. 398, where Robespierre
+lodged, we come to St. Roch's church, on the left, interesting both in
+itself and in history. It has been called the noisiest church in
+Paris, and certainly it is difficult to find a time when feet are
+silent there. The attraction is St. Roch's wealth of shrines, of a
+rather theatrical character, such as the wise poor love: an
+entombment, a calvary and a nativity, all very effective if not
+beautiful. Beauty does not matter, for on Good Friday the entombment
+holds thousands silent before it. The church, which is in the baroque
+style that it is so easy to dislike, is too florid throughout. Among
+the many monuments are memorials of Corneille and Diderot, both of
+whom are buried here. The music of St. Roch is, I am told, second only
+to that of the Madeleine.
+
+So much for St. Roch within. Historically it chances to be of immense
+importance, for it was here, and in the streets around and about the
+church, that the whiff of grapeshot blew which dispersed the French
+Revolution into the air. That was on October 5th, 1795, and it was not
+only the death of the Revolution but it was the birth of the
+conquering Buonaparte. Carlyle is superb: "Some call for Barras to be
+made Commandant; he conquered in Thermidor. Some, what is more to the
+purpose, bethink them of the Citizen Buonaparte, unemployed
+Artillery-Officer, who took Toulon. A man of head, a man of action:
+Barras is named Commandant's-Cloak; this young Artillery-Officer is
+named Commandant. He was in the Gallery at the moment, and heard it;
+he withdrew, some half-hour, to consider with himself: after a
+half-hour of grim compressed considering, to be or not to be, he
+answers _Yea_.
+
+"And now, a man of head being at the centre of it, the whole matter
+gets vital. Swift, to Camp of Sablons; to secure the Artillery, there
+are not twenty men guarding it! A swift Adjutant, Murat is the name of
+him, gallops; gets thither some minutes within time, for Lepelletier
+was also on march that way: the Cannon are ours. And now beset this
+post, and beset that; rapid and firm: at Wicket of the Louvre, in
+Cul-de-sac Dauphin, in Rue Saint-Honoré, from Pont-Neuf all along the
+north Quays, southward to Pont _ci-devant_ Royal,--rank round the
+Sanctuary of the Tuileries, a ring of steel discipline; let every
+gunner have his match burning, and all men stand to their arms!
+
+"Lepelletier has seized the Church of Saint-Roch; has seized the
+Pont-Neuf, our piquet there retreating without fire. Stray shots fall
+from Lepelletier; rattle down on the very Tuileries Staircase. On the
+other hand, women advance dishevelled, shrieking, Peace; Lepelletier
+behind them waving his hat in sign that we shall fraternise. Steady!
+The Artillery-Officer is steady as bronze; can, if need were, be quick
+as lightning. He sends eight-hundred muskets with ball-cartridges to
+the Convention itself; honourable Members shall act with these in case
+of extremity: whereat they look grave enough. Four of the afternoon is
+struck. Lepelletier, making nothing by messengers, by fraternity or
+hat-waving, bursts out, along the Southern Quai Voltaire, along
+streets and passages, treble-quick, in huge veritable onslaught!
+Whereupon, thou bronze Artillery-Officer--? 'Fire!' say the bronze
+lips. And roar and thunder, roar and again roar, continual,
+volcano-like, goes his great gun, in the Cul-de-sac Dauphin against
+the Church of Saint-Roch; go his great guns on the Pont-Royal; go all
+his great guns;--blow to air some two-hundred men, mainly about the
+Church of Saint-Roch! Lepelletier cannot stand such horse-play; no
+Sectioner can stand it; the Forty-thousand yield on all sides, scour
+towards covert. 'Some hundred or so of them gathered about the Théâtre
+de la République; but,' says he, 'a few shells dislodged them. It was
+all finished at six.'
+
+  [Illustration: THE SACRÉ-COEUR DE MONTMARTRE, FROM THE
+    BUTTES-CHAUMONT]
+
+"The Ship is _over_ the bar, then; free she bounds shoreward,--amid
+shouting and vivats! Citoyen Buonaparte is 'named General of the
+Interior, by acclamation'; quelled Sections have to disarm in such
+humour as they may; sacred right of Insurrection is gone forever! The
+Sieyes Constitution can disembark itself, and begin marching. The
+miraculous Convention Ship has got to land;--and is there, shall we
+figuratively say, changed, as Epic Ships are wont, into a kind of _Sea
+Nymph_, never to sail more; to roam the waste Azure, a Miracle in
+History!
+
+"'It is false,' says Napoleon, 'that we fired first with blank charge;
+it had been a waste of life to do that.' Most false: the firing was
+with sharp and sharpest shot: to all men it was plain that here was no
+sport; the rabbets and plinths of Saint-Roch Church show splintered by
+it to this hour.--Singular: in old Broglie's time, six years ago, this
+Whiff of Grapeshot was promised; but it could not be given then; could
+not have profited then. Now, however, the time is come for it, and the
+man; and behold, you have it; and the thing we specifically call
+_French Revolution_ is blown into space by it, and become a thing that
+was!--"
+
+Crossing the Place du Théâtre-Français we come to that historic home
+of the best French drama, where Molière is still played frequently,
+and one has some respite from the theme of facile promiscuity which
+dominates most of the other theatres of Paris. A new statue of Alfred
+de Musset has lately been set up under the Comédie Française. I copy
+from a writer very unlike him a passage of criticism to remember as
+one stands by this monument: "Give a look, if you can, at a Memoir of
+Alfred de Musset written by his Brother. Making allowance for French
+morals, and Absinthe (which latter is not mentioned in the Book),
+Alfred appears to me a fine Fellow, very un-French in some respects.
+He did not at all relish the new Romantic School, beginning with V.
+Hugo, and now alive in ---- and Co.--(what I call the Gargoyle School
+of Art, whether in Poetry, Painting, or Music)--he detested the modern
+'feuilleton' Novel, and read Clarissa!... Many years before A. de M.
+died he had a bad, long, illness, and was attended by a Sister of
+Charity. When she left she gave him a Pen with 'Pensez à vos
+promesses' worked about in coloured silks: as also a little worsted
+'Amphore' she had knitted at his bedside. When he came to die, some
+seventeen years after, he had these two little things put with him in
+his Coffin." That, by Edward FitzGerald, no natural friend to the de
+Mussets of the world, is very pretty.
+
+The Rue de Richelieu runs up beside the Comédie Française. We have
+already been in this street to see the Bibliothèque Nationale,
+entering it from the Boulevard, but let us now walk up it, first to
+see the Molière monument, so appropriate just here, and also to glance
+at No. 50, a house still unchanged, where once lived an insignificant
+couple named Poisson, whose daughter Jeanne Antoinette Poisson lived
+to become famous as Madame La Pompadour. In souvenirs of Molière Paris
+is still rich. We are coming soon to No. 92 Rue Saint-Honoré, where he
+was born; we are coming to the church of St. Eustache, where he was
+christened on January 15th, 1622, and where his second son was
+christened too. We are coming also to the church of St. Germain
+l'Auxerrois, where he was married and where his first son was
+baptised. In St. Roch he once stood as a godfather; and close to us
+now, at the corner of the Rue Saint-Honoré and the Rue Valois, was one
+of his theatres. And he died close to his monument, at No. 40 Rue de
+Richelieu. This then is the Molière quarter.
+
+We now enter the Palais Royal, that strange white and green oasis into
+which it is so simple never to stray. When I first knew Paris the
+Palais Royal was filled with cheap restaurants and shops to allure the
+excursionist and the connoisseur of those books which an inspired
+catalogue once described as very curious and disgusting. It is now
+practically deserted; the restaurants have gone and few shops remain;
+but in the summer the band plays to happy crowds, and children frolic
+here all day. I have, however, never succeeded in shaking off a
+feeling of depression.
+
+The original palace was built by Richelieu and was then the Palais
+Cardinal. After his death it became the Palais Royal and was enlarged,
+and was the scene of notorious orgies. Camille Desmoulins made it more
+serious, for it was here that he enflamed the people by his words on
+July 12th, 1789, and started them on their destroying career. That
+was in the Café de Foy. Carlyle thus describes the scene: "But see
+Camille Desmoulins, from the Café de Foy, rushing out, sibylline in
+face; his hair streaming, in each hand a pistol! He springs to a
+table: the Police satellites are eyeing him; alive they shall not
+take him, not they alive him alive. This time he speaks without
+stammering:--Friends! shall we die like hunted hares? Like sheep
+hounded into their pinfold; bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but
+only a whetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of Frenchman
+and Man; when Oppressors are to try conclusions with Oppressed; and
+the word is, swift Death, or Deliverance forever. Let such hour be
+_well_-come! Us, meseems, one cry only befits: To Arms! Let universal
+Paris, universal France, as with the throat of the whirlwind, sound
+only: To arms--To arms! yell responsive the innumerable voices; like
+one great voice, as of a Demon yelling from the air: for all faces
+wax fire-eyed, all hearts burn up into madness. In such, or fitter
+words, does Camille evoke the Elemental Powers, in this great
+moment.--Friends, continues Camille, some rallying sign! Cockades;
+green ones;--the colour of Hope!--As with the flight of locusts, these
+green tree-leaves; green ribands from the neighbouring shops; all
+green things are snatched, and made cockades of. Camille descends from
+his table, 'stifled with embraces, wetted with tears'; has a bit of
+green riband handed him; sticks it in his hat. And now to Curtius'
+Image-shop there; to the Boulevards; to the four winds; and rest not
+till France be on fire!"
+
+Desmoulins in bronze now stands in the garden, near this spot. It is
+an interesting statue by Boverie, who showed great courage in his use
+of a common chair, dignified here into a worthy adjunct of liberation.
+
+Under Napoleon the Tribunate sat in the Palais Royal, and after
+Napoleon the Orleans family made it their home. The Communards, always
+thorough, burned a good deal of it in 1871, and it is now a desert and
+the seat of the Conseil d'Etat. Let us leave it by the gateway leading
+to the Rue de Valois and be happier again.
+
+The Rue de Valois is an interesting and picturesque street, but its
+greatest attraction to me is its association with Charles Lamb. His
+hotel--the Europe, just opposite the gateway--has recently been
+rebuilt and is now called the Grand Hôtel du Palais Royal et de
+l'Europe, and the polished staircase on which his infinitesimal legs
+slipped about so comically on his late and not too steady returnings
+(and how could he be steady when Providence ordained that the waiter
+of whom in his best stammering French he ordered an egg, on his first
+visit to a restaurant, should have so misunderstood the order as to
+bring in its place a glass of eau de vie--an error, we are told,
+which gave Lamb much pleasure?) the polished staircase has now gone;
+but the hotel stands exactly where it did, and every thing else is the
+same--the Boeuf à la Mode is still close by and still one of the
+best restaurants in Paris, and the Place de Valois is untouched, with
+its most attractive archway leading to the Rue des Bons-Enfants and
+giving on to the vista of the Rue Montesquieu, with its hundred signs
+hanging out exactly as in 1823.
+
+We now return to the Rue Saint-Honoré. The three old houses, 180, 182
+and 184, opposite the Magasins du Louvre, belonged before the
+Revolution to the Canons of Saint-Honoré. The courtyard here--the
+Cloître du Saint-Honoré--is one of the most characteristic examples of
+dirty Paris that remain, but very picturesque too. To peep in here is
+almost certainly to be rewarded by some Hogarthian touch, and to walk
+up the Rue des Bons-Enfants yields similar experiences and some very
+pleasant glimpses of old Paris.
+
+Still going east we turn down past the Oratoire on the right, with
+Coligny's monument on its south side, into the Rue de Rivoli, and
+across the Rue du Louvre obliquely to the old church we see there,
+opposite the east end of the Louvre and Napoleon's iron gates. This
+church is that of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, not to be confounded with
+the St. Germain of St. Germain des Prés across the river. St. Germain
+l'Auxerrois is historically one of the most interesting of the Paris
+churches, for it was St. Germain's bell that gave the signal for
+the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572. Charles IX. is said to have
+fired at the Huguenots (doubtless with Catherine de Médicis at his
+shoulder, anxious for the success of his aim) from one of the windows
+in the Louvre overlooking this space.
+
+  [Illustration: L'AMATEUR D'ESTAMPES
+    DAUMIER
+    (_Palais des Beaux Arts_)]
+
+St. Germain of Auxerre began as a layman--the ruler of Burgundy.
+Divine revelation, however, indicated that the Church was his true
+calling, and he therefore succeeded Saint Amadour as Bishop, "gave,"
+in Caxton's words, "all his riches to poor people, and changed his
+wife into his sister". He took to the new life very thoroughly. He
+fasted every day till evening and then ate coarse bread and drank
+water and used no pottage and no salt. "In winter ne summer he had but
+one clothing, and that was the hair next his body, a coat and a gown,
+and if it happed so that he gave not his vesture to some poor body, he
+would wear it till it were broken and torn. His bed was environed with
+ashes, hair, and sackcloth, and his head lay no higher than his
+shoulders, but all day wept, and bare about his neck divers relics of
+saints. He ware none other clothing, and he went oft barefoot and
+seldom ware any girdle. The life that he led was above man's power.
+His life was so straight and hard that it was marvel and pity to see
+his flesh, and was like a thing not credible, and he did so many
+miracles that, if his merits had not gone before, they should have
+been trowed phantasms."
+
+St. Germain's miracles were more interesting than those of, say, his
+convert Sainte Geneviève. He conjured devils; he forbade fire to burn
+him; having fed his companions on the only calf of a friendly
+cow-herd, he put the bones and the skins together and life returned to
+it; he also raised one of his own disciples from the dead and
+conversed with him through the walls of his tomb, but on the disciple
+saying that in his late condition "he was well and all things were to
+him soft and sweet," he permitted him to remain dead. He also found
+his miraculous gifts very useful in the war; but his principal
+interest to us is that he is supposed to have visited England and
+organised the Establishment here. St. Germain's church has a little
+old glass that is charming and much bad new. The south transept
+window, although sheer kaleidoscope, is gay and attractive.
+
+At the back of the church runs the narrow and medieval Rue de
+l'Arbre-Sec, extending to the Rue Saint-Honoré. At No. 4 is, or was,
+the Hôtel des Mousquetaires, where, when it was the Belle Etoile,
+d'Artagnan drank and swaggered. Let us take this street and come to
+St. Eustache by way of another and less terrible souvenir of Catherine
+de Médicis. The Rue de l'Arbre-Sec leads to the Rue Sauval and to the
+circular Rue de Viarmes surrounding the Bourse de Commerce. Here we
+see a remarkable Doric column, all that remains of the palace which
+Catherine built in order to avoid the fate predicted for her by a
+soothsayer--that she would perish in the ruins of a house near St.
+Germain's. The Tuileries, which she was then building, being far too
+near St. Germain's to be comfortable after such a remark, she erected
+the Hôtel de la Reine, the tower being designed for astrological study
+in the company of her Italian familiar, Ruggieri. All else has gone:
+the tower and the stars remain.
+
+A few steps down the Rue Oblin and we are at St. Eustache, which has
+to my eyes the most fascinating roof of any church in Paris and a very
+attractive nave. The interior, however, is marred by the presence of
+what might be called a church within a church, destroying all vistas,
+and it is only with great difficulty that one can see the exquisite
+rose window over the organ. It is a church much used by the poor--who
+even call it Notre Dame des Halles--but its music on festival days
+brings the rich too. Like most other Paris churches of any importance,
+St. Eustache had its secular period. The Feast of Reason was held here
+in 1793; in 1795 it was the Temple of Agriculture. In 1791 Mirabeau,
+the first of the illustrious, as we saw, to be buried in the Panthéon,
+was carried here in his coffin for a funeral service, at which guns
+were fired that brought down some of the plaster. Voiture the poet was
+buried here. The church has always been famous for the splendour of
+its festivals and for its music, its present organ, once much injured
+by Communard bombs, being one of the finest in the world. No reader of
+this book who cares for solemn music should fail to ascertain the St.
+Eustache festivals. On St. Cecilia's day entrance is very difficult,
+but an effort should be made.
+
+Eustache, or Eustace, the Saint, had no direct association with Paris,
+as had our friends St Germain and St. Geneviève and St. Denis and St.
+Martin and St. Merry; but he had an indirect one, having been a Roman
+soldier under the Emperor Trajan, whose column was the model for the
+Vendôme column. In the Sacristy, however, are preserved some of the
+bones not only of himself but of his wife and family, brought hither
+from St. Denis. One of his teeth is here too, and one special bone,
+the gift of Pope Alexander VII. to an influential Catholic.
+
+Why our London markets should be so dull and unattractive and the
+Halles so entertaining is a problem which would perhaps require an
+ethnological essay of many pages to elucidate. But so it is.
+Smithfield, Billingsgate, Leadenhall, Covent Garden--one has little
+temptation or encouragement to loiter in any of them; but the Halles
+spread welcoming arms. I have spent hours there, and would spend more.
+In the very early morning it is not too agreeable a neighbourhood for
+the idle spectator, nor is he desired, although if he is prepared to
+endure a little rough usage with tongue and elbow he will be vastly
+amused by what he sees; but later, when all the world is up, the
+Halles entreat his company. Their phases are three: the first is the
+arrival of the market carts with their merchandise, very much as in
+our own Covent Garden, but multiplied many times and infinitely more
+vocal and shattering to the nerves. (I once occupied a bedroom within
+range of this pandemonium.) The second phase, a few hours later, sees
+the descent upon the market of the large caterers--buyers for the
+restaurants, great and small, the hotels and pensions. That is between
+half-past five and half-past seven. And then come the small buyers,
+the neat servants, the stout housewives, all with their baskets or
+string bags. This is our time; we may now loiter at our ease secure
+from the swift and scorching sarcasms of the crowded dawn.
+
+The Halles furnish another proof of the quiet efficiency of
+Frenchwomen. At every fruit and vegetable stall--and to me they are
+the most interesting of all--sits one or more of these watchful
+creatures, cheerful, capable and always busy either with the affairs
+of the stall or with knitting or sewing. The Halles afford also very
+practical proof of the place that economy is permitted to hold in the
+French cuisine: as much being done for the small purse as for the
+large one.
+
+In England we are ashamed of economy; by avoiding it we hope to give
+the impression that we are not mean. The wise French either care less
+for their neighbour's opinions or have agreed together to dispense
+with such insincerities; and the result is that if a pennyworth of
+carrots is all that your soup requires you need not buy two
+pennyworth, and so forth. Little portions of vegetables for one, two
+or more persons, all ready for the pot, can be bought, involving no
+waste whatever, and with no faltering or excuse on the part of the
+purchaser to explain so small an order. In France a customer is a
+customer. There are no distinctions; although I do not deny that in
+the West End of Paris, where the Americans and English spend their
+money, subtle shades of courtesy (or want of it) have crept in. I have
+been treated like a prince in a small comestible shop where I wanted
+only a pennyworth of butter, a pennyworth of cheese and a pennyworth
+of milk. It is pennies that make the French rich; no one can be in any
+doubt of that who has taken notice of the thousands of small shops not
+only in Paris but in the provinces.
+
+Any one making an early morning visit to the Halles should complete it
+by seeing my goat-herd, who leads his flocks thereabouts and eastward.
+He is the prettiest sight I ever saw in Paris. There are several
+goat-herds--even Passy knows them--but my goat-herd is here. By eight
+o'clock he has done; his flock is dry. He wears a blue cloth
+tam-o'-shanter (if there can be such a thing: it is really the cap of
+the romantic mountaineer of comic opera) and he saunters carelessly
+along, piping melancholy notes on a shepherd's pipe--not unlike the
+lovely wailing that desolates the soul in the last act of _Tristan und
+Isolde_. When a customer arrives he calls one of his goats, sits down
+on the nearest doorstep--it may be a seventeenth-century palace--and
+milks a cupful; and then he is off again, with his scrannel to his
+lips, the very type of the urban Strephon.
+
+We may leave les Halles (pronounced lay al, and not, as one would
+think, lays all: one of the pitfalls for the English in Paris) by the
+Rue Berger, and enter the Square des Innocents to look at its
+decorative fountain. The next street below the Rue des Innocents is
+the Rue de la Ferronnerie, where, on May 14th, 1610, Henri IV. was
+assassinated by Ravaillac before the door of No. 3. And so by the Rue
+St. Denis, which one is always glad to enter again, and the Rue de
+Rivoli, we come to Saint-Jacques, that grey aged isolated tower which
+we have seen so often from the heights and in the distance. It is a
+beautiful Gothic building, at the summit of which is the figure of St.
+James with his emblems, the originals of which are at the Cluny. The
+tower belonged to the church of St. Jacques-la-Boucherie, but that
+being in the way when Napoleon planned the Rue de Rivoli, it had to
+go.
+
+The tower has not lately been open to the climbers, and I have never
+seen Paris from St. James's side, but I hope to. Blaise Pascal
+experimented here in the density of air; hence the presence of his
+statue below. It was also to Pascal, of whom we now think only as an
+ironist and wistful theologian, that Paris owes her omnibuses, for it
+was he that devised the first, which began to run on March 18th, 1662,
+from the Luxembourg to the Bastille. Pascal owed his conversion to his
+escape from a carriage accident on the Pont Neuf. His grave we saw at
+St. Etienne-du-Mont.
+
+In crossing the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville one must not forget that
+this was once the terrible Place de Grève, the site of public
+executions for five centuries. Here we meet Catherine de Médicis
+again, for it was by her order that after the Massacre of St.
+Bartholomew the Huguenots Briquemont and Cavagnes were hanged here,
+and here also was executed Captain Montgomery, whom we are to meet in
+the next chapter. The foster-sister of Marie de Médicis was burned
+alive in the Place de Grève as a sorcerer; and Ravaillac, after
+assassinating Henri IV., here met his end. Among later victims was the
+famous Cartouche, of whom Thackeray wrote so entertainingly.
+
+The Hôtel de Ville is not a building that I for one should choose to
+revisit, nor do I indeed advise others to bother about it at all; but
+externally at any rate it is fine, with its golden sentinels on high.
+Its chief merit is bulk; but there is a certain interest in observing
+a Republican palace of our own time, if only to see how near it can
+come to the real thing. A saturnine guide displays a series of
+spacious apartments, the principal attraction of which is their mural
+painting. All the best French Royal Academicians (so to speak) of
+twenty years ago had a finger in this pie, and their fantasies sprawl
+over ceilings and walls. With the exception of one room, the history
+of Paris is practically ignored, allegory being the master vogue.
+Poetry, Song, Inspiration, Fame, Ambition, Despair--all these undraped
+ladies may be seen, and many others. Also Electricity and Steam,
+Science and Art, distinguishable from their sisters only by the happy
+chance that although they forgot their clothes they did not forget
+their symbols.
+
+  [Illustration: LE BAISER
+    RODIN
+    (_Luxembourg_)]
+
+One beautiful thing only did I see, and that was a large design,
+perhaps the largest there, of Winter, by Puvis de Chavannes. But to
+say that I saw it is an exaggeration: rather, I was conscious of it.
+For the architect of the salon in which Puvis was permitted to work
+forgot to light it.
+
+In the historical room there are crowded scenes by Laurens of the past
+of Paris--the hero of which is Etienne Marcel, whose equestrian statue
+may be seen from the windows, under the river façade of the building.
+Etienne Marcel, Merchant Provost, controlled Paris after the
+disastrous battle of Poictiers, where the King and the Dauphin were
+both taken prisoners. Power, however, made him headstrong, and he was
+killed by an assassin.
+
+It is from the Hôtel de Ville that the city of Paris is administered,
+with the assistance of the Préfecture de Police on the island
+opposite. The Hôtel de Ville contains, so to speak, the Paris County
+Council, and I have been told that no building is so absurdly
+over-staffed. That may or may not be true. The high officials do not
+at any rate allow business to exclude the finer graces of life, for in
+the great hall in which I waited for the cicerone were long tables on
+which were some twenty or thirty baskets containing visiting cards,
+and open books containing signatures, and before each basket was a
+card bearing the name of an important functionary of the Hôtel de
+Ville--such as the Préfet de la Seine, and the Sous-Préfet, and their
+principal secretaries, and so forth. Every minute or so some one came
+in, found the basket to which he wished to contribute, and dropped a
+card in it. I wondered to what extent the social machinery of Paris
+bureaucracy would be disorganised if I were to change a few baskets,
+but I did not embark upon an experiment the results of which I should
+have had no means of contemplating and enjoying.
+
+After leaving the Hôtel de Ville and its modern splendours, we may
+walk eastward along the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville, one of the narrowest
+and dirtiest relics of old Paris, and so come to the Hôtel de Sens.
+But first notice, at the corner of the Rue des Nonnains-d'Hyères, at
+the point at which Mr. Dexter made his drawing, the very ancient stone
+sign of the knife-grinder. The Hôtel de Sens, in the Place de l'Ave
+Maria, at the end of the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville, is almost if not
+quite the most attractive of the old palaces. Although it has been
+allowed to fall into neglect, it is still a wonderfully preserved
+specimen of fifteenth-century building. The turrets are absolutely
+beautiful. The Archbishop of Sens built it, and for nearly three
+centuries it remained the home of power and wealth, among its tenants
+being Marguerite of Valois. Then came the Revolution and its decline
+into a coach office, from which it is said the Lyons mail, made
+familiar to us by the Irvings, started. During a later revolution,
+1830, a cannon ball found a billet in the wall, and it may still be
+seen there, I am told, although these eyes missed it. The Hôtel is now
+a glass factory. The city of Paris ought to acquire it before it sinks
+any lower.
+
+It is at the foot of the Rue de l'Ave Maria, hard by, that Molière's
+theatre, which we saw from the Quai des Célestins in an earlier
+chapter, is found. Here Molière was arrested at the instance of the
+unpaid tallow chandler. Our way now is by the Rue Figuier, of which
+the Hôtel de Sens is No. 1, to the Rue François-Miron, all among the
+most fascinating old architecture and association. At No. 8 Rue
+Figuier, for instance, Rabelais is said to have lived, and what could
+be better than that? At No. 17, we have what the Vicomte de
+Villebresme calls a "jolie niche du XVe siècle". This street leads
+into the Rue de Jouy, also exceedingly old, with notable buildings,
+such as No. 7, the work of Mansard père, and No. 9, and on the left of
+the Impasse Guépine, which existed in the reign of Saint Louis.
+
+In the Rue François-Miron, if you do not mind exhibiting a little
+inquisitiveness, enter the doorway of No. 68, and look at the
+courtyard and the staircase. Here you get an excellent idea of past
+glories, while the outer doors or gates give an excellent idea of past
+danger too. For life in Paris in the days in which this street was
+built must have been very cheap after dark. It is not dear even now in
+certain parts. This was an historic mansion. It was built for Madame
+de Beaumaris, femme de chambre of Anne of Austria, and on its balcony,
+now removed, on August 20th, 1660, Anne stood with Mazarin and others
+when Louis XIV. entered Paris. No. 82 still retains a balcony of great
+charm.
+
+We now enter the very busy Rue St. Antoine at its junction with the
+Rue de Rivoli. Almost immediately on our right is a gateway leading
+into a very charming courtyard, which is not open to the public, but
+into which one may gently trespass; it is the school of the Frères
+Chrétiens, founded by Frère Joseph, the good priest with the sweet and
+sad old face whose bust is on the wall. A few steps farther bring us
+to the church of St. Paul and St. Louis, a florid and imposing fane,
+to which Victor Hugo (to whose house we are now making our way)
+carried his first child to be christened, and presented to the church
+two holy water stoops in commemoration. Here also Richelieu celebrated
+his first mass. One of Delacroix's best early works (we saw the
+picture called "Hommage à Delacroix," you will remember, in the Moreau
+collection at the Louvre) is in the left transept, "Christ in the
+Garden of Gethsemane". On no account miss the Passage Charlemagne
+(close to the St. Paul Station on the Métro) for it is a curious, busy
+and very French by-way, and it possesses the remains of a palace of
+the fourteenth century. In the Passage de St. Pierre is the site of
+the old cemetery of St. Paul's in which Rabelais was buried.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE
+
+     A Beautiful Square--The Palais des Tournelles--Revolutionary
+     Changes--Madame de Sévigné and Rachel--Hugo's Crowded
+     Life--A Riot of Relics--Victorious Versatility--Dumas'
+     Pen--The Age of Giants--Dickens--"Les Trois Dumas".
+
+
+Were we to walk a little farther along the busy Rue St. Antoine
+towards the Place de la Bastille, we should come, on the left, a few
+yards past the church of St. Louis, to the Rue de Birague, at the head
+of which is the beautiful red gateway of which Mr. Dexter has made
+such a charming picture. This is the southern gateway of the Place des
+Vosges, a spacious green square enclosed by massive red and white
+houses of brick and stone which once were the abode, when the Place
+des Vosges was the Place Royale, of the aristocracy of France.
+
+Before that time the courtyard of the old Palais des Tournelles was
+here, where Henri II. was killed in a tournament in 1559, through an
+accident for which Captain Montgomery of the Scotch Guard, whose fault
+Catherine de Médicis deemed it to be, was executed, as we have just
+seen, in the Place de l'Hôtel-de-Ville. Catherine de Médicis, not
+content with thus avenging her husband's death, demolished the Palais
+des Tournelles, and a few years later Henri IV., to whom old Paris
+owes so much, built the Place Royale, just as it is now. His own
+pavilion was the centre building on the south side, comprising the
+gateway which Mr. Dexter has drawn; the Queen's was the corresponding
+building on the north side.
+
+Around dwelt the nobles of the Court--such at any rate as were not
+living in the adjoining Marais. Richelieu's hotel embraced Nos. 21-23
+as they now are. It was in front of that mansion that the famous duel
+between Montmorency-Bouteville and Des Chapelles against Bussy and
+Beuvron was fought. The spirit of the great Dumas, one feels, must
+haunt this Place: for it is peopled with ghosts from his brave
+romances.
+
+The decay of the Place des Vosges began, of course, when the
+aristocracy moved over to the Faubourg St. Germain, although it never
+sank low. The Revolution then took it in hand, and naturally began by
+destroying the statue of Louis XIII. in the centre, which Richelieu
+had set up, while its name was changed from Place Royale to its
+present style in honour of the Department of the Vosges, the first to
+contribute funds to the new order. In 1825, under Charles X., Louis
+XIII. in a new stone dress returned to his honoured position in the
+midst of the square, and all was as it should be once more, save that
+no longer did lords and ladies ruffle it here or in the Marais.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PLACE DES VOSGES
+    (SOUTHERN ENTRANCE, IN THE RUE BIRAGUE)]
+
+The most picturesque associations of the Place des Vosges are
+historical; but it has at any rate three houses which have an artistic
+interest. At No. 1 was born that gifted and delightful lady in whose
+home in later years we have spent such pleasant hours--Madame de
+Sévigné, or as she was in those early days (she was born in 1626)
+Marie de Rabutin-Chantal. At No. 13 lived for a while Rachel the
+tragedienne. According to Herr Baedeker, who is not often wrong, she
+died here too: but other authorities place her death at Carmet, near
+Toulon. I like to think that this rare wayward and terrible creature
+of emotion was once an inhabitant of these walls. The third house is
+No. 6, in the south-eastern corner, the second floor of which, from
+1833 to 1848, was the home of Victor Hugo. It is now a Hugo museum.
+Although Hugo occupied only a small portion, the whole house is now
+dedicated to his spreading memory. Let us enter.
+
+There is nothing in England like the Hugo museum. I have been to
+Carlyle's house in Cheyne Row; to Johnson's house at Lichfield; to
+Wordsworth's house at Grasmere; to Milton's house at Chalfont St.
+Giles; to Leighton's House at Kensington; and the impression left by
+all is that their owners lived very thin lives. The rooms convey a
+sense of bareness: one is struck not by the wealth of relics but by
+the poverty of them; while for any suggestion that these men were
+pulsating creatures of friendship one seeks in vain. But Hugo--Hugo's
+house throbs with life and energy and warm prosperous amities. Every
+inch is crowded with mementoes of his vigour and his triumphs, yes,
+and his failures too.
+
+Here are portraits of him by the hundred, at all ages, caricatures,
+lampoons, play bills, first editions, popular editions, furniture by
+Hugo, decorations by Hugo, drawings by Hugo, scenes in Hugo's life in
+exile, wreaths, busts, portraits of his grandchildren (who taught him
+the exquisite art of being a grandfather), his death-bed, his
+death-mask, the cast of his hands. Hugo, Hugo, everywhere, always
+tremendous and splendid and passionate and French.
+
+Among the more valuable possessions of this museum are
+Bastien-Lepage's charcoal drawing of the master; Besnard's picture of
+the first night of Hernani with the young romantic on the stage taking
+his call and hurling defiance at the gods; Steinlen's oil painting
+(there are not many oil paintings by this great draughtsman and great
+Parisian) "Les Pauvres Gens"; Daumier's cartoon "Les Châtiments";
+Henner's "Sarah la Baigneuse" from _Les Orientales_; allegories by
+Chifflart; beautiful canvases by Carrière and Fantin-Latour; and
+Devambez's "Jean Valjean before the tribunal of Arras," in which Jean
+is curiously like Gladstone in a bad coat; Vierge's drawing of the
+funeral of Georges Hugo, during the siege; and Yama Motto's curious
+scene of Hugo's own funeral, of which there are many photographs,
+including one of the coffin as it lay in state for two days under the
+Arc de Triomphe. There are also a number of Hugo relics which the
+camelots of that day were selling to the crowds.
+
+Hugo, it is well known, nursed a private ambition to be a great
+artist, and in my opinion he was a great artist. There are on these
+walls drawings from his hand which are magnificent--mysterious and
+sombre fortresses on impregnable cliffs, scenes in enchanted lands
+with more imagination than ever Doré compassed, and some of the
+sinister cruelty and power of Méryon. Hugo was ingenious too: he
+decorated a room with coloured carvings in the Chinese manner and he
+made the neatest folding table I ever saw--hinged into the wall so
+that when not in use it takes up no floor-space whatever.
+
+It is amusing to follow Hugo's physiognomy through the ages, at first
+beardless, looking when young rather like Bruant, the chansonnier of
+to-day; then the coming of the beard, and the progress of it until the
+final stage in which the mental eye now always sees the old
+poet--white and strong and benevolent--the Hugo, in short, of Bonnat's
+famous portrait.
+
+On a table is a collection of literary souvenirs of intense interest:
+Hugo's pen and inkstand, and the great Dumas' pen presented to Hugo in
+1860 after writing with it his last "15 or 20" volumes (fifteen _or_
+twenty--how like him!); Lamartine's inkstand, offered "to the master
+of the pen"; George Sand's match-box for those endless cigarettes, and
+with it her travelling inkstand. In another room upstairs are the six
+pens used by Hugo in writing _Les Humbles_. Dumas' pen is not by any
+means the only Dumas relic here; portraits of him are to be seen, one
+of them astonishingly negroid. Had he too worked for liberty and
+carried in his breast or even on his sleeve a great heart that, like
+Hugo's, responded to every call and beat furiously at the very whisper
+of the word injustice, he too would have his museum to-day not less
+remarkable than this. But to write romances was not enough: there must
+be toil and suffering too.
+
+Dumas and Hugo were born in the same year, 1802: Balzac was then
+three. In 1809 came Tennyson and Gladstone; in 1811 Thackeray and in
+1812 Browning and Dickens. What was the secret of that astounding
+period? Why did the first twelve years of the last century know such
+energy and abundance? To walk through the rooms of this Hugo museum,
+however casually, is to be amazed before the vitality and exuberance
+not only of this man but of the French genius. It is truly only the
+busy who have time. I wish none the less that there was a museum for
+Alexandre the Great. I would love to visit it: I would love to see his
+kitchen utensils alone. The generous glorious creature, "the seven and
+seventy times to be forgiven"! As it was, no one being about, I kissed
+the pen with which he had written his last "15 or 20" novels (the
+splendid liar!).
+
+I wish too that we had a permanent Dickens' museum in London--say at
+his house in Devonshire Terrace, which is now a lawyer's office. What
+a fascinating memorial of Merry England it might become, and what a
+reminder to this attenuated specialising day of the vigour and
+versatility and variety and inconquerable vivacity of that giant! Just
+as no one can leave Hugo's house without a quickening of imagination
+and ambition, so no one could leave that of Charles Dickens.
+
+In addition to this museum Hugo has his monument in the Place Victor
+Hugo, far away in a residential desert in the north-west of Paris, a
+bronze figure of the poet as a young man seated on a rock, with
+Satire, Lyric Poetry and Fame attending him; while on the façade of
+the house where he died, No. 124 Avenue Victor Hugo, is a medallion
+portrait. He figures also in a fresco in the Hôtel de Ville. Dumas'
+monument is in the garden of the Place Malesherbes in the Avenue de
+Villiers. Doré designed it, as was perhaps fitting. The sturdy
+Alexandre sits, pen in hand, on the summit, his West Indian hair
+curling vigorously into the sky, with d'Artagnan and three engrossed
+readers at the base. It is not quite what one would have wished; but
+it is good to visit. His son, the dramatist, the author of that
+adorable joke against his father's vanity--that he was capable of
+riding behind his own carriage to persuade people that he kept a black
+servant--has a monument close by; and the gallant general of whom one
+reads such brave stories in the first volume of the _Mémoires_ is to
+be set there too, and then the Place, I am told, will be re-named the
+Place des Trois Dumas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE BASTILLE, PÈRE LACHAISE AND THE END
+
+     A Thoughtful Municipality--The Fall of the Bastille--Revolt
+     and Revolution--The Column of July--A Paris
+     Canal--Deliberate Building--The Buttes-Chaumont--A City of
+     the Dead--Père la Chaise--Bartholomé's Monument--The
+     Cimetière de Mont Parnasse--The Country round Paris--What we
+     have Missed--Conclusion.
+
+
+The Place des Vosges is close to the Place de la Bastille, which lies
+to the east of it along the Rue St. Antoine. The prison has gone for
+ever, but one is assisted by a thoughtful municipality to reconstruct
+it, a task of no difficulty at all if one remembers with any vividness
+the models in the Carnavalet or the Archives, or buys a pictorial
+postcard at any neighbouring shop. The contribution of the pious city
+fathers is a map on the façade of No. 36 Place de la Bastille, and a
+permanent outline of the walls of the dreadful building inlaid in the
+road and pavement, which one may follow step by step to the
+satisfaction of one's imagination and the derangement of the traffic
+until it disappears into cafés and shops. One has to remember,
+however, that the surface of the ground was much lower, the prison
+being surrounded by a moat and gained only by bridges. For the actual
+stones one must go to the Pont de la Concorde, the upper part of which
+was built of them in 1790.
+
+The Bastille's end came in 1789, at the beginning of the Revolution,
+on the day after the National Guard was established, when the people
+of Paris rose under Camille Desmoulins and captured it, thus not only
+displaying but discovering their strength. Carlyle was never more
+scornful, never more cruelly vivid, than in his description of this
+event. I must quote a little, it is so horribly splendid: "To describe
+this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of the most important in
+History) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals. Could one but,
+after infinite reading, get to understand so much as the plan of the
+building! But there is open Esplanade, at the end of the Rue
+Saint-Antoine; there are such Forecourts, _Cour Avanceé, Cour de
+l'Orme_, arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights); then new
+drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampart-bastions, and the grim Eight
+Towers: a labyrinthic Mass, high-frowning there, of all ages from
+twenty years to four hundred and twenty;--beleaguered, in this its
+last hour, as we said, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance of all
+calibres; throats of all capacities; men of all plans, every man his
+own engineer: seldom since the war of Pygmies and Cranes was there
+seen so anomalous a thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of
+regimentals; no one would heed him in coloured clothes: half-pay Hulin
+is haranguing Gardes Françaises in the Place de Grève. Frantic
+Patriots pick up the grapeshots; bear them, still hot (or seemingly
+so), to the Hôtel-de-Ville:--Paris, you perceive, is to be burnt!
+Flesselles is 'pale to the very lips'; for the roar of the multitude
+grows deep. Paris wholly has got to the acme of its frenzy; whirled,
+all ways, by panic madness. At every street-barricade, there whirls
+simmering a minor whirlpool,--strengthening the barricade, since God
+knows what is coming; and all minor whirlpools play distractedly into
+that grand Fire-Maelstrom which is lashing round the Bastille.
+
+"And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant has become an
+impromptu cannoneer. See Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh from
+Brest, ply the King of Siam's cannon. Singular (if we were not used to
+the like): Georget lay, last night, taking his ease at his inn; the
+King of Siam's cannon also lay, knowing nothing of _him_, for a
+hundred years. Yet now, at the right instant, they have got together,
+and discourse eloquent music. For, hearing what was toward, Georget
+sprang from the Brest Diligence, and ran. Gardes Françaises also will
+be here, with real artillery: were not the walls so thick!--Upwards
+from the Esplanade, horizontally from all neighbouring roofs and
+windows, flashes one irregular deluge of musketry, without effect. The
+Invalides lie flat, firing comparatively at their ease from behind
+stone; hardly through portholes show the tip of a nose. We fall, shot;
+and make no impression!
+
+  [Illustration: LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS
+    MILLET
+    (_Louvre, Chauchard Collection_)]
+
+"Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible! Guard-rooms are
+burnt, Invalides mess-rooms. A distracted 'Perukemaker with two fiery
+torches' is for burning 'the saltpetres of the Arsenal';--had not a
+woman run screaming; had not a Patriot, with some tincture of Natural
+Philosophy, instantly struck the wind out of him (butt of musket on
+pit of stomach), overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring element.
+A young beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer Courts, and
+thought falsely to be De Launay's daughter, shall be burnt in De
+Launay's sight; she lies swooned on a paillasse: but again a Patriot,
+it is brave Aubin Bonnemère the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues
+her. Straw is burnt; three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go up in
+white smoke: almost to the choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elie
+had, with singed brows, to drag back one cart; and Réole the 'gigantic
+haberdasher' another. Smoke as of Tophet; confusion as of Babel; noise
+as of the Crack of Doom!
+
+"Blood flows; the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried into
+houses of the Rue Cerisaie; the dying leave their last mandate not to
+yield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall? The
+walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive from the
+Hôtel-de-Ville; Abbé Fauchet (who was of one) can say, with what
+almost superhuman courage of benevolence. These wave their Town-flag
+in the arched Gateway; and stand, rolling their drum; but to no
+purpose. In such Crack of Doom De Launay cannot hear them, dare not
+believe them: they return, with justified rage, the whew of lead still
+singing in their ears. What to do? The Firemen are here, squirting
+with their fire-pumps on the Invalides cannon, to wet the touchholes;
+they unfortunately cannot squirt so high; but produce only clouds of
+spray. Individuals of classical knowledge propose _catapults_.
+Santerre, the sonorous Brewer of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, advises
+rather that the place be fired, by a 'mixture of phosphorus and
+of oil-of-turpentine spouted up through forcing-pumps': O
+Spinola-Santerre, hast thou the mixture _ready_? Every man his own
+engineer! And still the fire-deluge abates not: even women are firing,
+and Turks; at least one woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk.
+Gardes Françaises have come: real cannon, real cannoneers. Usher
+Maillard is busy; half-pay Elie, half-pay Hulin rage in the midst of
+thousands.
+
+"How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court
+there, at its ease, hour after hour; as if nothing special, for it or
+the world, were passing! It tolled One when the firing began; and is
+now pointing towards Five, and still the firing slakes not.--Far down,
+in their vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as of
+earthquakes; their Turnkeys answer vaguely.
+
+"Wo to thee, De Launay, with thy poor hundred Invalides! Broglie is
+distant, and his ears heavy: Besenval hears, but can send no help. One
+poor troop of Hussars has crept, reconnoitering, cautiously along the
+Quais, as far as the Pont Neuf. 'We are come to join you,' said the
+Captain; for the crowd seem shoreless. A large-headed dwarfish
+individual, of smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his
+blue lips, for there is sense in him; and croaks: 'Alight then, and
+give up your arms!' The Hussar-Captain is too happy to be escorted to
+the Barriers, and dismissed on parole. Who the squat individual was?
+Men answer, It is M. Marat, author of the excellent pacific _Avis au
+Peuple_! Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy day of
+emergence and new-birth: and yet this same day come four years--!--But
+let the curtains of the Future hang."
+
+After some hours the deed is done and Paris re-echoes to the cries "La
+Bastille est prise!" "In the Court, all is mystery, not without
+whisperings of terror; though ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye
+foolish women! His Majesty, kept in happy ignorance, perhaps dreams of
+double-barrels and the Woods of Meudon. Late at night, the Duke de
+Liancourt, having official right of entrance, gains access to the
+Royal Apartments; unfolds, with earnest clearness, in his
+constitutional way, the Job's-news. '_Mais_,' said poor Louis, '_c'est
+une révolte_, Why, that is a revolt!'--'Sire,' answered Liancourt, 'it
+is not a revolt,--it is a revolution.'"
+
+That was July 14th, 1789; but it is not the July that the Colonne de
+Juillet in the centre of the Place celebrates. That July was forty-one
+years later, not so late but that many Parisians could remember both
+events. July 27th to 29th, 1830, the Second Revolution, which
+overturned the Bourbons and set Louis-Philippe of Orleans in the siège
+périlleux of France. Louis-Philippe himself erected this monument in
+memory of the six hundred and fifteen citizens who fell in his
+interests and who are buried beneath. Their names are cut in the
+bronze of the column, on the summit of which is the beautiful winged
+figure of Liberty.
+
+Beneath the vault of the Colonne, and immediately beneath the Colonne
+itself, runs the great canal which brings merchandise into Paris from
+the east, entering the Seine between the Pont Sully and the Pont
+d'Austerlitz. At this point it is not very interesting, but from the
+Avenue de la République, where it re-emerges again into the light of
+day, and thence right away to the Abattoirs de Villette, it is very
+amusing to stroll by. The Paris _Daily Mail_, which in its eager
+paternal way has taken English and American visitors completely under
+its wing, is diurnally anxious that its readers should make a tour of
+these abattoirs. But not I. That a holiday in Paris should include the
+examination of a slaughter-house strikes me as a joyless proposition,
+putting thoroughness far before pleasure. But the _Daily Mail_ is like
+that; it also does its best on the second and fourth Wednesdays in
+every month to get its compatriots down the Paris sewers. And I
+suppose they go. Strange heart of the tourist! We never think of
+penetrating either to the sewers or the slaughter-houses of our native
+land; we have no theories of sewers, no data for comparison; we love
+the upper air and the sun. But being in a foreign city we cheerfully
+give the second or fourth Wednesday to such delights.
+
+Having taken the _Daily Mail's_ advice and visited the abattoirs
+(which I have not done), one cannot do better than return to Paris by
+way of the canal, sauntering beside it all the way to the Rue Faubourg
+du Temple, where one passes into the Place de la République and the
+stir of the city once more. The canal descends from the heights of La
+Villette in a series of long steps, as it were (or, to take the most
+dissonant simile possible to devise, like the lakes at Wootton), built
+up by locks. Idling by this canal one sees many agreeable phases of
+human toil. Many commodities and materials reach Paris by barge, and
+it is on these quais and in the Villette basin that the unloading is
+done; while the barges themselves are pleasant spectacles--so long and
+clean and broad--very Mauretanias beside the barges of Holland--with
+spacious deck-houses that are often perfect villas, the wife and
+children watering the flowers at the door.
+
+One quai is given up wholly to lime. This arrives in thousands of
+little solid sacks which stevedores whiter than millers transfer to
+the carts, that, in their turn, creak off to disorganise the traffic
+of a hundred streets and provoke the contempt of a thousand drivers
+before they reach their destined building, on which the workmen have
+already been engaged for two years and will be engaged for two years
+more. There is no hurry in constructional work in Paris--except of
+course on Exhibitions, which spring up in a night. The same piece of
+road that was up in the Rue Lafayette for some surface trouble in a
+recent April, I found still up in October. But they have the grace,
+when rebuilding a house in the city, to hide their deliberate
+processes behind a wooden screen--such a screen as was opposite the
+Café de la Paix, at the south-east corner of the Boulevard des
+Capucines, for, it seems to me, years.
+
+If, however, one is walking beside the canal in the other direction,
+up the hill instead of down, one will soon be nearer the Victoria Park
+of Paris, the park of the east end, than at any other time, and this
+should be visited as surely as the abattoirs should be avoided:
+unless, of course, one is a well-informed or thoughtful butcher. We
+have seen the Parc Monceau; well, the antithesis of the Parc Monceau,
+which has no counter-part in London, is the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.
+Both are children's paradises, the only difference in the children
+being social position. The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont is sixty acres of
+trees and walks and perpendicular rocks and water, the special charm
+of which is its diversified character, rising in the midst to an
+immense height made easy for carriages and perambulators by a winding
+road. It has a deep gorge crossed by a suspension bridge, a lake for
+boats, a cascade, and thousands of chairs side by side, touching,
+lining the roads, on which the maids and matrons of La Villette and
+Belleville sew and gossip, while the children play around. The parc
+was made in the sixties: before then it had been a waste ground and
+gypsum quarry--hence its attractive irregularities. How wonderful the
+heights and cathedral of Montmartre can appear from one of the peaks
+of the Buttes-Chaumont, Mr. Dexter's drawing shows.
+
+The Buttes-Chaumont is the most easterly point we have yet reached;
+but there is another parc more easterly still awaiting us, not unlike
+the Buttes-Chaumont in its acclivities, but unlike it in this
+particular, that it is a parc not of the living but the dead. I mean
+Père Lachaise. Père Lachaise! What kind of an old man do you think
+gave his name to this cemetery? Most persons, I imagine, see him as
+white-haired and venerable: not twinkling, like Papa Gontier, but
+serene and noble and sad. As a matter of fact he was a père only by
+profession and courtesy. Père Lachaise was Louis XIV.'s fashionable
+confessor (Landor has a diverting imaginary conversation between these
+two), and the cemetery took its name from his house, which chanced to
+occupy the site of the present chapel. The ground was enclosed as a
+burial ground as recently as 1804, which means of course that the
+famous tomb of Abélard and Héloise, to which all travellers find their
+way, is a modern reconstruction. The remains of La Fontaine and
+Molière and other illustrious men who died before 1804 were
+transferred here, just as Zola's were recently transferred from the
+cemetery of Montmartre to the Panthéon, but with less excitement.
+
+Père Lachaise cannot be taken lightly. The French live very
+thoroughly, but when they die they die thoroughly too, and their
+cemeteries confess the scythe. There may be, to our thinking, too much
+architecture; but it is serious. There is no mountebanking (as at
+Genoa), nor is there any whining, as in some of our own churchyards.
+Death to a Frenchman is a fact and a mystery, to be faced when the
+time comes, if not before, and to be honoured. On certain festivals of
+the year there are a thousand mourners to every acre of Père Lachaise.
+
+The natural entrance is by the Rue de la Roquette, but it is less
+fatiguing to enter at the top, at the new gate in the Avenue du Père
+Lachaise, and walk downhill; for the paths are steep and the cemetery
+covers a hundred acres and more. The objection to this course is that
+one loses some of the sublimity of Bartholomé's _Monument aux Morts_
+at the foot of the mountain on which the chapel stands. This monument
+faces the principal entrance with the careful design of impressing the
+visitor, and its impact can be tremendous. We approach it by the
+Avenue Principale, in which lies Alfred de Musset, with the willow
+waving over his tomb and his own lines upon it.
+
+And then one enters seriously upon this strange pilgrimage among names
+and memories. Chopin lies here, his music stilled, and Talma the
+tragedian; Beaumarchais and Maréchal Ney; Cherubini and Alphonse
+Daudet; Balzac, his pen for ever idle, and Delacroix; Béranger, who
+made the nation's ballads, and Brillat-Savarin, all his dinners eaten;
+Michelet, the historian, and Planquette, the composer of _Les Cloches
+de Corneville_; Daumier, the great artist who saw to the heart of
+things, and Corot, who befriended Daumier's last years; Daubigny and
+Rosa Bonheur, Thiers and Scribe; Rachel, once so very living, and many
+Rothschilds now poorer than I.
+
+  [Illustration: LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS
+    A. BARTHOLOMÉ
+    (_Père la Chaise_)]
+
+Paris has other cemeteries, as we know, for we have walked through
+that of Montmartre; but there is also the Cimetière de Montparnasse,
+where lie Sainte-Beuve and Leconte de Lisle, Théodore de Banville,
+master of _vers de société_, and Fantin-Latour, Baudelaire (lying
+beneath a figure of the Genius of Evil), and Barbey d'Aurevilly, the
+dandy-novelist. There are also the cemeteries of Passy and Picpus, but
+into these I have never wandered. Lafayette lies at Picpus, which is
+behind a convent in the Rue de Picpus, and costs fifty centimes to
+see, and there also were buried many victims of the guillotine besides
+those whose bodies were flung into the earth behind the Madeleine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All the space at my disposal has been required by Paris itself; and
+such is the human interest that at any rate in the older parts clings
+to every stone and saturates the soil, that I do not know that I
+have had any temptation to rove beyond the fortifications. But that
+of course is not right. No one really knows the Parisians until he
+sees them in happy summer mood in one of the pleasure resorts on the
+Seine, or winning money at Enghien, or lunching in one of the
+tree-top restaurants at Robinson. We have indeed been curiously
+unenterprising, and it is all owing to the fascination of Paris
+herself and the narrow dimensions of this book. We have not even been
+to St. Denis, to stand among the ashes of the French kings; we have
+not descended the formal slopes of St. Cloud; we have not peeped into
+Corot's little chapel at Ville d'Avray; we have not seen the home of
+Sèvres porcelain; we have not scaled Mont-Valérien; we have not taken
+boat for Marly-le-Roi; we have not wandered marvelling but weary amid
+the battle scenes of Versailles, or smiled at the pretty fopperies of
+the hamlet of the Petit Trianon. We have not known the groves either
+of the Bois de Vincennes or the Bois de Meudon.
+
+Much less have we fed those guzzling gourmands, the carp of Chantilly,
+or lost ourselves before the little Raphael there, or the curious
+Leonardo sketch for La Joconde, or the sweet simplicities of the
+pretty Jean Fouquet illuminations, particularly the domestic
+solicitude of the ladies attending upon the birth of John the Baptist;
+less still have we forgotten the restlessness and urgency of Paris
+amid the allées and rochers of the Forest of Fontainebleau, and the
+still white streets of Barbizon, or even on the steps of the château
+where the Great Emperor, thoughts of whom are never very distant--are
+indeed too near--bade farewell to his Old Guard in 1814.
+
+Greater Paris, it will be gathered, is hardly less interesting than
+Paris herself; and indeed how pleasant it would be to write about it!
+But not here.
+
+Of Paris within the fortifications have I, I wonder, conveyed any of
+the fascination, the variety, the colour, the self-containment. I hope
+so. I hope too that at any rate these pages have implanted in a few
+readers the desire to see this beautiful and efficient city for
+themselves, and even more should I value the knowledge that they had
+excited in others who are not strangers to Paris the wish to be there
+again. To do justice to such a city, with such a history, is of course
+an impossibility. What, however, should not be impossible is to create
+a goût.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+     ABATTOIRS, the, 312.
+
+     Abbaye-aux-Bois, 160.
+
+     Abélard, 315.
+
+     Advocates and barristers, 24.
+
+     Alvantes, Duchesse d', 45.
+
+     Angelo, Michael, 102.
+
+     Anne of Austria, 297.
+
+     Antoinette, Marie, 20, 21, 71, 215, 216.
+
+     Apollon, Galerie d', 248.
+
+     Arbre-Sec, Rue de l', 288.
+
+     Arc de Triomphe, 114, 142-45, 302.
+
+     Archives, the, 64, 65.
+
+     Arènes, the, 187.
+
+     Aristocratic homes, 62, 145, 158.
+
+     Arnold, Matthew, quoted, 267-69.
+
+     Artagnan, D', 288.
+
+     Arts et Métiers, Musée de, 258.
+
+     Astruc, 178.
+
+     Attila the Hun, 190.
+
+     Aurevilly, B. d', 317.
+
+     Austerlitz, 214.
+
+     Ave-Maria, Rue de l', 297.
+
+
+     BAEDEKER, 215, 261, 301.
+
+     "Bagatelle," 146.
+
+     Bal Bullier, 179.
+
+     Balloons, 51.
+
+     Balzac, 159, 178, 194, 260, 304, 316.
+
+     Banville, T. de, 178, 317.
+
+     Barbizon School, 100, 103-6.
+
+     Bard, Wilkie, 235.
+
+     Barristers and advocates, 24.
+
+     Barry, the St. Bernard dog, 208.
+
+     Bartholomé, 316.
+
+     Bartholomew, St., Massacre of, 23, 286.
+
+     Barye, the sculptor, 60, 245.
+
+     Bassano, 89.
+
+     Bastien-Lepage, 177.
+
+     Bastille, the, 72, 306-12.
+
+     Baudelaire, Charles, 56, 104, 317.
+
+     Beauharnais, Joséphine, 45, 158, 174.
+
+     Beaumarchais, 316.
+
+     Beaumaris, Madame de, 297.
+
+     Beaux-Arts, Palais des, 150.
+
+     Beggars in Paris, 263.
+
+     Bellini, 91.
+
+     Bénéfices, 231, 232.
+
+     Béranger, 258.
+
+     Bergère, Cité, 250.
+
+     Berlioz, 178, 225, 269.
+
+     Bernard, Saint, 52.
+
+     Bernhardt, 251.
+
+     _Besieged Resident, the_, 210-13.
+
+     Besnard, 302.
+
+     Bibliothèque de Mazarin, 166.
+
+     ---- Nationale, 247.
+
+     Bièvre, the river, 186, 187.
+
+     Bigio, 88.
+
+     Billiards in Paris, 220-22.
+
+     Birague, Rue de, 299.
+
+     Birds, the charmer of, 127-30.
+
+     Birrell, Mr. Augustine, 15.
+
+     Blanche, 177.
+
+     ---- Rue, 260.
+
+     Bodley, Mr., 200.
+
+     Boilly, 71.
+
+     Bois de Boulogne, the, 145-49.
+
+     Bol, 93.
+
+     Bone, Mr. Muirhead, 24, 67.
+
+     Bonheur, Rosa, 317.
+
+     Bonington, 92, 98, 102.
+
+     Bonnat, 303.
+
+     Bons Enfants, Rue des, 286.
+
+     Bookhunters, 17, 18.
+
+     Bookstalls in Paris and London, 14-18.
+
+     Borssom, 98.
+
+     Botticelli, 79, 80, 89.
+
+     Bottin, 154.
+
+     Boucher, 70, 99.
+
+     Bouland, 176.
+
+     Boulevardiers, 219, 239.
+
+     Boulevards, Grands, 218, 219.
+
+     Bourse, the, 248, 249.
+
+     Boverie, 285.
+
+     Brillat-Savarin, 316.
+
+     Brisemiche, Rue, 75.
+
+     Browning, 304.
+
+     Bruant, Aristide, 271, 303.
+
+     Building in Paris, 313.
+
+     Buridan, 180.
+
+     Buttes-Chaumont, Parc, 264, 314.
+
+
+     CABARETS artistiques, 270, 271.
+
+     Cabman, the singing, 2.
+
+     Cabmen in Paris, 240-42.
+
+     Café de la Paix, 227-43.
+
+     Cafés, 227, 228.
+
+     ---- night, 273-75.
+
+     Cain, M. Georges, 160, 200.
+
+     Canals, 313.
+
+     Capel Court, 249.
+
+     Capucines, Boulevard des, 220-24, 273.
+
+     Caran d'Ache, 271.
+
+     Carlyle, 178.
+
+     ---- quoted, 37-41, 116-21, 134-37, 138-40, 279-81, 284, 285,
+       307-11.
+
+     Carnavalet, Musée, 61, 69-74.
+
+     Caro-Delvalle, 177.
+
+     Carolus-Duran, 176, 178.
+
+     Carpeaux, 110, 225.
+
+     Carrière, 105, 176, 177, 302.
+
+     Carriès, 151.
+
+     Carrousel, Arc de, 117-21.
+
+     Cartoons in the street, 249.
+
+     Cartouche, 294.
+
+     Caxton, William, quoted, 57, 59, 189-91, 253-55, 289.
+
+     Cazin, 152, 175, 176.
+
+     Cemeteries in Paris, 315-17.
+
+     Cerrito, 226.
+
+     Cerutti, 245.
+
+     Champions of France, 221.
+
+     Champs-Elysées, 141, 142.
+
+     Chanoinesse, Rue, 52.
+
+     Chantilly, 318.
+
+     Chardin, 70, 95, 99.
+
+     Charlemagne, Passage, 298.
+
+     Charles X., 300.
+
+     Charmer of birds, the, 127-30.
+
+     Chateaubriand, 159, 160.
+
+     Chauchard Collection, 106.
+
+     Chaudet, 110.
+
+     Chauffeurs in Paris, 242, 243.
+
+     Chaussée d'Antin, Rue de la, 245.
+
+     Chavannes, Puvis de, 152, 181, 190, 193, 295.
+
+     Cherubini, 226.
+
+     Chifflart, 302.
+
+     Childeric, 190.
+
+     Chopin, 143, 178, 245, 251, 316.
+
+     Christianity in Paris, 190.
+
+     Church music, 289.
+
+     Churches--
+
+       Blancs-Manteaux, 67.
+
+       Madeleine, 188.
+
+       Panthéon, 188-96.
+
+       Petits Pères, 249.
+
+       Sacré-Coeur, 262.
+
+       St. Elizabeth of Hungary, 64.
+
+       ---- Etienne-du-Mont, 193, 196-98.
+
+       ---- Eugène, 251.
+
+       ---- Eustache, 40, 289.
+
+       ---- Germain du Pré, 163.
+
+       ---- ---- l'Auxerrois, 286-88.
+
+       ---- Jacques-la-Boucherie, 293.
+
+       ---- Joseph de Carmes, 178.
+
+       ---- Julien le Pauvre, 185.
+
+       ---- Merry, 76.
+
+       ---- Nicholas-des-Champs, 77.
+
+       ---- Paul and St. Louis, 298.
+
+       ---- Roch, 278-81, 283.
+
+       ---- Severin, 185.
+
+       ---- Sorbonne, 181.
+
+       ---- Sulpice, 163.
+
+     "Ciel," 270.
+
+     Cigars in Paris, 223.
+
+     Cimetières in Paris, 264, 266-70.
+
+     ---- du Nord, 266-70.
+
+     Claque, the, 233.
+
+     Clarac collection, 110.
+
+     Claude, 91, 98.
+
+     Clichy, Boulevard, 270.
+
+     Clocks in Paris, 22.
+
+     Clotilde, 190.
+
+     Clouet, 97.
+
+     Clovis, 190.
+
+     Cluny, Musée de, 181-84.
+
+     Coligny, 286.
+
+     Colonna, Vittoria, 89.
+
+     Colonne de Juillet, 311, 312.
+
+     Commune, the, 27, 115, 124, 217, 258, 264, 278, 285.
+
+     Compas d'Or, the, 5, 6.
+
+     Comte, 181.
+
+     Concierge, the, 230.
+
+     Conciergerie, the, 19-23.
+
+     Concorde, the Place de La, 132-40.
+
+     ---- Pont de la, 307.
+
+     Conservatoire, the, 251.
+
+     Constable, 92.
+
+     Coquelin, 251, 259.
+
+     Corday, Charlotte, 216.
+
+     Corot, 99, 103, 105, 178, 317.
+
+     Correggio, 88, 91, 95.
+
+     Cosimo, Piero di, 90.
+
+     Cour du Dragon, 161.
+
+     Coustou, 110.
+
+     Couture, 105.
+
+     Coyzevox, 110.
+
+     Curiosity shops, 159.
+
+
+     _DAILY MAIL_ in Paris, 312.
+
+     Dalou, 151, 175, 259.
+
+     Dammouse, 176.
+
+     Dancing halls, 272.
+
+     Dante, 185, 187.
+
+     Daubigny, 105, 317.
+
+     Daudet, Alphonse, 142, 316.
+
+     Daumier, 152, 302, 317.
+
+     David, 99, 101, 194, 195.
+
+     ---- Madame, 152.
+
+     ---- G., 95.
+
+     Da Vinci, Leonardo, 81-87, 318.
+
+     Death and the French, 95, 315.
+
+     Decamps, 103, 105.
+
+     Degas, 175.
+
+     Delacroix, 100, 104, 106, 178, 298, 316.
+
+     Delair, Frédéric, 199-201.
+
+     Delaroche, 164.
+
+     Delibes, 226, 269.
+
+     De Musset, 56, 282, 316.
+
+     De Neuville, 177, 270.
+
+     Denis, Saint, 253.
+
+     Desmoulins, Camille, 171, 284, 285.
+
+     Devils of Notre Dame, 51, 52.
+
+     Dexter, Mr., as a tipster, 148.
+
+     ---- ---- his conception of Paris, 24.
+
+     Diaz, 105.
+
+     Dickens, Charles, 304.
+
+     Diderot and the pretty bookseller, 17.
+
+     Dobson, Mr. Austin, 15, 178, 184.
+
+     Dogs in Paris, 207-9.
+
+     ---- cemetery, the, 208, 209.
+
+     Donizetti, 226.
+
+     Doré, 303.
+
+     Dou, 93.
+
+     Drouot, Rue, 246, 247.
+
+     Dubois, 175, 193.
+
+     Duel, a famous, 300.
+
+     Dufayel, Maison, 264-66.
+
+     Dumas, Alexandre, 62, 93, 178, 300, 303, 304, 305.
+
+     ---- ---- fils, 24, 104.
+
+     Duncan, Isidora, 153.
+
+     Dupré, 106.
+
+     Dürer, 95.
+
+     Dutch School, the, 94, 95, 153.
+
+     Dutuit collection, 150, 153.
+
+
+     ECONOMY in Paris, 291, 292.
+
+     Eiffel Tower, the, 50.
+
+     Elizabeth, Madame, 216.
+
+     Elocutionist, the, 203.
+
+     Elysée, the, 276.
+
+     ---- de Montmartre, 272.
+
+     "Enfer," 270.
+
+     Enghien, 318.
+
+     English and French, 141, 227-40.
+
+     Estrées, Duchesse d', 158.
+
+     Etoile, Place de l', 142-45.
+
+     Eustache, Saint, 290.
+
+     Execution of Louis XVI., 134-37.
+
+     ---- ---- Robespierre, 138-40.
+
+     Eyck, J. van, 95.
+
+
+     FABRIANO, 96.
+
+     Fairs in Paris, 147, 153.
+
+     Falguière, 161.
+
+     Fallières, President, 252.
+
+     Fantin-Latour, 104, 176, 302, 317.
+
+     Faubourg Saint-Honoré, Rue du, 276.
+
+     ---- Poissonière, Rue du, 252.
+
+     Ferronnerie, Rue de la, 293.
+
+     Fête de St. Geneviève, 197.
+
+     Figuier, Rue, 297.
+
+     FitzGerald, Edward, quoted, 73, 282.
+
+     Flandrin, 163, 176.
+
+     Flinck, 93.
+
+     Flower markets, 218.
+
+     Fontainebleau, 318.
+
+     Fouquet, Jean, 318.
+
+     Fragonard, 99.
+
+     François I., 86, 87, 89, 248.
+
+     François-Miron, Rue, 297.
+
+     Françoise-Marguerite, 262.
+
+     Francs-Bourgeois, Rue des, 61, 68, 74.
+
+     Frémiet, 114, 153, 175, 179, 193, 205.
+
+     French, the, 29.
+
+     ---- and English, 141, 227-40.
+
+     ---- Revolution, 37-41, 116-21, 134-37, 138-40, 279-81, 284, 285,
+       307-11.
+
+
+     GALLAS, the, 206.
+
+     Gambetta monument, 126.
+
+     Gare de Lyon, 3.
+
+     ---- du Nord, 3, 209.
+
+     ---- St. Lazare, 3.
+
+     Garnier, Charles, 225.
+
+     Gautier, 270.
+
+     Genée, 270.
+
+     Geneviève, St., 188-92, 196, 197, 255.
+
+     Genlis, Madame de, 159.
+
+     Germain, Saint, 286-88.
+
+     Ghirlandaios, the, 90, 95.
+
+     Gibbon, 245.
+
+     Giotto, 90, 129.
+
+     Gladstone, 271, 302, 304.
+
+     Goat-herd, the, 292.
+
+     Gold and silver, 111.
+
+     _Golden Legend, The_, 57, 59, 189-91, 253-55, 289.
+
+     Goncourts, 270.
+
+     Goujon, Jean, 110.
+
+     Gounod, 143, 226.
+
+     Grand Café, 220.
+
+     Grandpré, Louise de, quoted, 35-37, 42-44.
+
+     Grands Boulevards, 218, 219.
+
+     Granié, 177.
+
+     Grenelle, Rue de, 158.
+
+     Greuze, 99.
+
+     Grève, Place de, 293.
+
+     Grévin, the Musée, 246.
+
+     Grolier, 247.
+
+     Gronow, Captain, quoted, 171-73.
+
+     Guides, 224.
+
+     Guillotine, the, 133-40.
+
+
+     HABENECK, 226.
+
+     Halévy, 270.
+
+     Halles, the, 290-92.
+
+     ---- des Vins, the, 201.
+
+     Hals, 95.
+
+     Haraucourt, M. Edmond, 183.
+
+     ---- ---- translated, 257.
+
+     Harpignies, 152, 176, 177.
+
+     Haussmann, Boulevard, 216, 247.
+
+     ---- Baron, 122, 123.
+
+     Heine, Henrich, 142, 194, 266-69.
+
+     Héloïse, 52, 315.
+
+     Henley, W. E., 178.
+
+     Henner, 151, 302.
+
+     Henri II., 299.
+
+     ---- IV., 12, 13, 35, 112, 264, 278, 293, 294, 300.
+
+     Hérold, 226.
+
+     Heyden, van der, 95, 98.
+
+     Hippodrome, 271.
+
+     His de la Salle collection, 80, 95, 101.
+
+     Hobbema, 95, 153.
+
+     Hoffbauer, 70.
+
+     Horloge, the, 22.
+
+     Hospital of the Trinity, 256.
+
+     Hôtel de Ville, 294-96.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Rue de l', 296.
+
+     ----  ---- Sens, 296.
+
+     ---- des Monnaies, 167-69.
+
+     Houdon, 110.
+
+     Hugo, Victor, 25, 32, 48, 124, 153, 189, 298, 300-5.
+
+     ---- Georges, 302.
+
+     Huysmanns, quoted, 187.
+
+     Hyacinthe, Père, 47.
+
+
+     ILE de la Cité, 9-30.
+
+     ---- St. Louis, the, 54-60.
+
+     Imprimerie Nationale, 68.
+
+     Ingres, 80, 95, 100, 163, 164.
+
+     Innocents, Square des, 293.
+
+     Institut, the, 166.
+
+     Invalides, Hôtel des, 154-57.
+
+     Isabey, 106, 226.
+
+     Italiens, Boulevard des, 245, 273.
+
+
+     JABACH, 87.
+
+     Jacqueminot, Ignace, 195.
+
+     Jardin d'Acclimatation, 202, 205-7.
+
+     ---- des Plantes, 201-5.
+
+     Jena, 214.
+
+     Jeraud, 110.
+
+     Joan of Arc, 114, 153, 160, 193.
+
+     "Joconde, La," 81-87, 318.
+
+     Joke, the one, 29, 238, 275.
+
+     Joseph, Frère, 298.
+
+     Josephine, the Empress, 45, 158, 174.
+
+     Jouy, Rue de, 297.
+
+
+     KARBOWSKI, 152.
+
+     Key, sign of the, 162.
+
+
+     LABLACHE, 226.
+
+     Labouchere, Mr., quoted, 210-13.
+
+     Lachaise, Père, 315-17.
+
+     Lafayette, 317.
+
+     ---- Rue, 277, 314.
+
+     Laffitte, Jacques, 245.
+
+     ---- Rue, 245.
+
+     La Fontaine, 315.
+
+     Lamartine, 303.
+
+     Lamb, Charles, 285, 286.
+
+     ---- Mary, 17.
+
+     Lancret, 99.
+
+     Landor quoted, 91.
+
+     Lang, Mr. Andrew, 178.
+
+     Latin Quarter, 179-81.
+
+     Latude, 71-73.
+
+     Lauder, Harry, 235.
+
+     Laurens, 295.
+
+     Law, John, 76.
+
+     Le Brun, 99.
+
+     Le Courtier, 175.
+
+     Lecouvreur, Adrienne, 158, 164.
+
+     Legros, 104, 175, 176.
+
+     Le Nain, 97.
+
+     Leno, Dan, 235.
+
+     Lepage, Bastien, 302.
+
+     Le Sidaner, 177.
+
+     Letter-boxes, 223.
+
+     Lippi, Fra Filippo, 90.
+
+     Lisle, Leconte de, 317.
+
+     Livry, Emma, 226.
+
+     Liszt, 226.
+
+     London and bookstalls, 14.
+
+     ---- ---- Paris, 14, 24, 27, 129, 146, 154, 201, 219, 227-40, 238,
+       249, 273, 290-92.
+
+     Longchamp, 146-49.
+
+     Lotto, 91.
+
+     Louis-Philippe, 121, 123, 140, 144, 312.
+
+     Louis, Saint, 10, 27, 35, 47, 56-60, 65, 180.
+
+     ---- XII., 248.
+
+     ---- XIII., 87, 300.
+
+     ---- XIV., 87, 297, 315.
+
+     ---- XV., 133, 188, 248.
+
+     ---- XVI., 36, 65, 115, 133, 215, 311.
+
+     ---- XVIII., 46, 125, 215.
+
+     Louvre, Musée du, 78-113.
+
+     Lowell, J. R., quoted, 85.
+
+     Loyola, 263.
+
+     Lucas the failure, 221.
+
+     Luini, 80, 88, 91.
+
+     Luxembourg, the, 173-79.
+
+     Luxor column, the, 132, 140.
+
+     Lyons mail, the, 296.
+
+
+     MADELEINE, the, 188, 214-18.
+
+     Mainardi, 90.
+
+     Malibran, 225.
+
+     Manet, 100, 104, 152, 176.
+
+     Mantegna, 91, 95.
+
+     Marais, the, 61-77.
+
+     Marat, 71, 195.
+
+     Marcel, Etienne, 295.
+
+     Marguery, 252.
+
+     Marie Antoinette, 20, 21, 71, 215, 216.
+
+     Marius, 221.
+
+     Marly le Roi, 318.
+
+     Martin, Saint, 257, 258.
+
+     Martyrs, Chambre de, 159.
+
+     ---- Rue des, 260.
+
+     Massacre of Swiss Guards, 115-21.
+
+     Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 23, 286.
+
+     Massé, Victor, 226.
+
+     Masson, Frédéric, 246.
+
+     Maupassant, Guy de, 143.
+
+     Mazarin, 247, 297.
+
+     ---- Rue, 276.
+
+     Medals and their designers, 169.
+
+     Médicis, Catherine de, 115, 287, 288, 293, 299.
+
+     ---- fountain, the, 173.
+
+     ---- Marie de, 141, 294.
+
+     Meilhac, 270.
+
+     Meissonier, 106, 176.
+
+     Memling, 95, 99.
+
+     Méryon, Charles, 23, 24, 51, 303.
+
+     Messina, Antonello di, 91.
+
+     Metsu, 95.
+
+     Meudon, 318.
+
+     Meyerbeer, 226.
+
+     Mi-Carême, 217, 218, 273.
+
+     Michel, Georges, 70.
+
+     Michelet, 316.
+
+     Millet, 100, 103, 106.
+
+     Mint, the Paris, 167-69.
+
+     Mirabeau, 194, 245, 289.
+
+     Molière, 60, 170, 282, 283, 297, 315.
+
+     Monceau, Parc, 142, 143, 314.
+
+     Monet, 175.
+
+     Money, bad, in Paris, 168.
+
+     Monnaies, Hôtel de, 167-69.
+
+     "Monna Lisa," 81-87, 318.
+
+     Mont de Piété, the, 66.
+
+     ---- Parnasse, Cimetière, 317.
+
+     ---- Valérien, 318.
+
+     Montesquieu, Rue, 286.
+
+     Montgomery, Captain, 294, 299.
+
+     Montmartre, 245, 254, 260-75.
+
+     Montorgeuil, Rue, 5, 250.
+
+     Moreau collection, 103.
+
+     ---- Musée, 261.
+
+     Morgue, the, 54, 55.
+
+     Mottez, 177.
+
+     Motto, Yama, 302.
+
+     Moulin-de-la-Galette, 272.
+
+     ---- Rouge, 271.
+
+     Moulins, Le Maître de, 97.
+
+     Mousseaux, 226.
+
+     Murger, Henri, 178, 180, 270.
+
+     Murillo, 92.
+
+     Musée de l'Armée, 154-57.
+
+     ---- ---- Arts et Métiers, 258.
+
+     ---- Carnavalet, 61, 69-74.
+
+     ---- Cernuschi, 143.
+
+     ---- de Cluny, 181-84.
+
+     ---- du Conservatoire, 251.
+
+     ---- Grévin, 246.
+
+     ---- Guimet, 144.
+
+     ---- du Louvre, 78-113.
+
+     ---- de Luxembourg, 174-79.
+
+     ---- Moreau, 261.
+
+     ---- de l'Opéra, 225, 226.
+
+     Musées des Jardin des Plantes, 204, 205.
+
+     Music in Paris, 289.
+
+     ---- Hall, the, in Paris, 234, 235.
+
+     Musical trophies, 225, 226, 251.
+
+     Musset, Alfred de, 56, 282, 316.
+
+     Mystery plays, 256.
+
+
+     NAPOLEON and the Arc de Triomphe, 144.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- end of the Revolution, 279-81.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Madeleine, 214.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Old Guard, 318.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Panthéon, 188.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- statue of Henri IV., 13.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Vendôme column, 278.
+
+     ---- at St. Sulpice, 163.
+
+     ---- his coronation, 44-46.
+
+     ---- ---- early palaces, 174.
+
+     ---- ---- interest in art, 112, 113.
+
+     ---- ---- iron bridge, 166.
+
+     ---- ---- relics, 154-57.
+
+     ---- ---- second funeral, 157.
+
+     ---- ---- tomb, 157.
+
+     ---- ---- two Arcs, 124, 125, 126.
+
+     ---- in two pictures, 101.
+
+     ---- meets Josephine, 246.
+
+     ---- relics at the Carnavalet, 73.
+
+     ---- III., 46, 122, 123.
+
+     ---- ---- rebuilds Paris, 122.
+
+     Néant, Cabaret de, 270.
+
+     Necker, 245.
+
+     Newspapers in France, 27-30.
+
+     New Year's Eve, 273.
+
+     New York, 129.
+
+     Ney, 316.
+
+     Night cafés, 273-75.
+
+     Nodier, Charles, on the book-hunter, 18.
+
+     Notre Dame, 11, 26, 31-53.
+
+
+     OFFENBACH, 269.
+
+     Olivier, Père, 46.
+
+     Olympia Taverne, 220.
+
+     Opera, the, 48, 225.
+
+     Ostade, 98.
+
+
+     PAGANINI, 225, 251.
+
+     Pailleron, 143.
+
+     Painting, modern, 149.
+
+     Paix, Café de la, 227-43.
+
+     ---- Rue de la, 277.
+
+     Palais de Justice, the, 24-26.
+
+     ---- des Beaux-Arts, 150, 164, 165.
+
+     ---- Royal, the, 283.
+
+     Palma, 91.
+
+     Panthéon, the, 188-96.
+
+     Pari-Mutuel, the, 147, 148.
+
+     Paris and balloons, 51.
+
+     ---- ---- beggars, 263.
+
+     ---- ---- Christianity, 190.
+
+     ---- ---- economy, 291, 292.
+
+     ---- ---- its aristocratic quarters, 62, 158.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- billiard saloons, 220-22.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- bird's-eye views, 145.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- cemeteries, 315-17.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- civic museums, 69-74.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- clocks, 22.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- dogs, 207-9.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- early history, 9, 10.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- fickleness, 216, 245.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- flats, 162.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Mint, 167-69.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- mobs, 32.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- newspapers, 27-30.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- restaurants, 7.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Royal Academy Schools, 164, 165.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- royal palaces, 11.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Salons, 149.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- sculpture, 126, 127.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- stations, 1, 2.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- statuary, 178.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- two Zoos, 201.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- views, 196, 264.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- waiters, 238.
+
+     ---- ---- late hours, 273.
+
+     ---- ---- London, 14, 24, 27, 154, 201, 219, 227-40, 238, 249,
+       273, 290-92.
+
+     ---- ---- the play, 28.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- post, 223, 224.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- ship, 48.
+
+     ---- as Méryon saw it, 23, 24.
+
+     ---- fairs, 153.
+
+     ---- from Notre Dame, 11, 48, 49.
+
+     ---- ---- the Eiffel Tower, 50, 51.
+
+     ---- in the small hours, 273-75.
+
+     ---- pleasure of entering, 1-4.
+
+     ---- under siege, 209-13.
+
+     Parisian, the, his provinciality, 130.
+
+     Pascal, 198, 247, 293.
+
+     Passy, Cimetière de, 317.
+
+     Pasteur, 160.
+
+     Pater, Walter, quoted, 82-84.
+
+     Pawning in Paris, 66.
+
+     Peacocks, the, 202-4.
+
+     Père Lachaise, 264, 315-17.
+
+     ---- Lunette, Le, 173.
+
+     Perugino, 91.
+
+     Picard, 177.
+
+     Picpus, Cimetière de, 317.
+
+     Pigalle, Rue, 110, 260.
+
+     Pinaigriers, the, 198.
+
+     Planquette, 316.
+
+     Pointelin, 152.
+
+     Pol, Henri, 90, 127-30.
+
+     Police of Paris, the, 19, 240.
+
+     Pompadour, Madame la, 283.
+
+     Pompeii, treasures of, 110, 111.
+
+     Pompes Funèbres, 251.
+
+     Pont au Change, the, 22.
+
+     ---- Alexandre III., 153.
+
+     ---- de la Concorde, 307.
+
+     ---- Neuf, 12.
+
+     Porte Maillot, 149.
+
+     ---- St. Denis, 253-56.
+
+     ---- St. Martin, 256.
+
+     Post, the, in Paris, 223, 224.
+
+     Pot, 153.
+
+     Potter, 95.
+
+     Poussin, 91, 98.
+
+     Préfecture de Police, the, 18.
+
+     Print shops, 170.
+
+     Procope, Café, 171.
+
+     Prud'hon, 70
+
+     Puget, 110.
+
+
+     QUAI des Célestins, 60.
+
+     Quasimodo, 25, 48.
+
+     Quatre-Septembre, Rue du, 277.
+
+
+     RABELAIS, 297, 298.
+
+     Rachel, 301, 317.
+
+     Racine, 198.
+
+     Raeburn, 92.
+
+     Ramly, 110.
+
+     Raphael, 87, 88, 91, 92, 102, 318.
+
+     Ravaillac, 293, 294.
+
+     Reason, Goddess of, 39, 41.
+
+     ---- the Cult of, 37-41.
+
+     Réaumur, Rue, 277.
+
+     Récamier, Madame, 101, 159, 160,245.
+
+     Religion advertised, 252.
+
+     Rembrandt, 91, 92, 93, 151, 248.
+
+     Renan, 270.
+
+     Renaudon, 27.
+
+     Renoir, 175.
+
+     Republic, Third, 124.
+
+     Republican palace, a, 294.
+
+     Republics in statuary, 259.
+
+     République, Place de la, 259.
+
+     Restaurants, 6-8, 147, 173, 199-201, 244, 252, 286.
+
+     Restoration, the, 123-25.
+
+     Réveillon, 244, 273.
+
+     Revolution, the, 33, 65, 71, 87, 113, 133-39, 178, 246, 259,
+       279, 281, 284, 285, 289, 300, 307-11.
+
+     ---- of 1830, 296, 311, 312.
+
+     Revue, the, 235, 236.
+
+     Richelieu, 181, 284, 298, 300.
+
+     ---- Rue de, 247, 282, 283.
+
+     Riding schools, 206.
+
+     Rivoli, Rue de, 277.
+
+     Robespierre, 138-40, 278.
+
+     Robinson, 318.
+
+     Rochefoucauld, Rue, 260.
+
+     Rodin, 174, 175, 177, 195.
+
+     Roland, Madame, 18, 71, 245.
+
+     Roman remains in Paris, 8, 31, 182, 187.
+
+     Romney, 99.
+
+     Rossini, 225, 226.
+
+     Rothschild collection, 111.
+
+     Rougemont, Cité, 251.
+
+     Rousseau, J. J., 106, 193.
+
+     Rubens, 91, 93, 94, 95.
+
+     Rude, 110.
+
+     Ruggieri, 289.
+
+     Ruisdael, 95, 152.
+
+
+     SACRÉ-COEUR, the, 245, 262.
+
+     St. Antoine, Rue, 297-99.
+
+     ---- Bartholomew, Massacre of, 23, 286.
+
+     ---- Cloud, 318.
+
+     ---- Denis, 189, 215, 318.
+
+     ---- ---- Rue, 255, 256.
+
+     ---- Dominic, 47.
+
+     ---- Francis, 129.
+
+     ---- Geneviève, 188-92, 196, 197, 255.
+
+     ---- Germain, 189.
+
+     ---- Honoré, Rue, 277-86.
+
+     ---- Martin Priory, 257.
+
+     ---- ---- Rue, 76, 257.
+
+     ---- Merry, 75.
+
+     ---- Peter, 75.
+
+     Sainte-Beuve, 317.
+
+     ---- Chapelle, 26, 27.
+
+     Saints-Pères, Rue, 159, 276.
+
+     ---- the mothers of, 190.
+
+     Salis, Rodolphe, 271.
+
+     Salons, the, 149.
+
+     Samson, the headman, 137, 139.
+
+     Sand, George, 178, 303.
+
+     Sargent, 152.
+
+     Sarto, Andrea del, 91.
+
+     Scheffer, 100.
+
+     Scribe, 317.
+
+     Sculpture in Paris, 78, 106-10, 126, 127, 178, 259.
+
+     Seine, the, 14.
+
+     Sens, Hôtel de, 296.
+
+     Sévigné, Madame de, 73, 301.
+
+     Sèvres, 318.
+
+     Sewers, the, 312.
+
+     Shaftesbury Avenue, 277.
+
+     Shaw, Mr. Bernard, 166.
+
+     Sicard, the Abbé, 178.
+
+     Siege of 1870, the, 210-13.
+
+     Sisley, 152, 175.
+
+     Soitoux, 259.
+
+     Solario, 91.
+
+     Sorbonne, the, 179-81.
+
+     Steinlen, 152, 176, 271, 302.
+
+     Sterne, Laurence, 16, 163.
+
+     Stockbrokers in Paris, 249.
+
+     Stoppeur, the, 162.
+
+     Street life in Paris, 236-43.
+
+     Streets, favourite, 250, 276, 277.
+
+     Student life, 180.
+
+     Suresnes, 149.
+
+     Swiss Guards, 115-21, 216.
+
+
+     TABARIN, Bal, 272.
+
+     Tailors, political, 249.
+
+     Talma, 316.
+
+     Temple, the, 63.
+
+     Tennyson, 304.
+
+     Terburg, 95, 102, 153.
+
+     Terra-cottas, 110.
+
+     Thackeray, 157, 294, 304.
+
+     Thames, the, 14.
+
+     Thaulow, 177.
+
+     Theatre, the first, 256.
+
+     ---- the, in Paris, 232-34.
+
+     Theatres, 28, 282.
+
+     Thémines, the Marquis de, 200.
+
+     Thiers, 317.
+
+     ---- collection, 102.
+
+     Thomas, Ambroise, 143, 269.
+
+     Thomy-Thierret collection, 105, 106.
+
+     Tiber, the, 109.
+
+     Tintoretto, 89, 91.
+
+     Tissot, 177.
+
+     Titian, 88, 89, 91.
+
+     Tortoni, Café, 171-73.
+
+     Tour d'Argent, the, 199-201.
+
+     ---- Saint-Jacques, 293.
+
+     Traffic, 240.
+
+     Trajan, 290.
+
+     Triomphe, Arc de, 114, 142-45, 302.
+
+     _Tristan und Isolde_, 292.
+
+     Troyon, 70, 105, 106.
+
+     Tuileries, the, 114-31.
+
+
+     UCCELLO, 90.
+
+     Uzanne, Octave, on the booksellers, 15, 16.
+
+
+     VALOIS, Rue, 285.
+
+     Van de Velde, 153.
+
+     ---- Dyck, 94.
+
+     Vasari, quoted, 85, 86.
+
+     Véber, 152.
+
+     Velasquez, 88, 101.
+
+     Vendôme, Place, 277, 278.
+
+     Venus of Milo, 107.
+
+     Verdi, 226.
+
+     Vermeer, 95.
+
+     Veronese, 88, 89.
+
+     Versailles, 318.
+
+     Vestris, 226.
+
+     Viarmes, Rue de, 288.
+
+     Victor Hugo, Avenue de, 305.
+
+     Vierge, 152, 302.
+
+     Views in Paris, 11, 48-50, 145, 196, 262.
+
+     Villebresme, Vicomte de, 297.
+
+     Ville d'Avray, 318.
+
+     ---- Hôtel de, 294-96.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Rue de l', 296.
+
+     Vincennes, 318.
+
+     Vinci, 81-87, 95, 318.
+
+     Virgin, the, and the Bird, 42-44.
+
+     Voisin's, 7.
+
+     Vollon, 70, 177.
+
+     Volney, Rue, 252.
+
+     Voltaire, 71, 166, 194, 195.
+
+     Vosges, Place des, 299.
+
+
+     WAITERS, 238.
+
+     Wallace, Sir Richard, 146.
+
+     Watteau, 70, 95, 99, 178.
+
+     Waxworks in Paris, 246.
+
+     Weenix, 98.
+
+     Weerts, 181.
+
+     Weyden, Roger van der, 95.
+
+     Whiff of Grapeshot, the, 279-81.
+
+     Whistler, 104, 177.
+
+     Wiertz, 261.
+
+     Willette, 271, 272.
+
+     Winged Victory, 78, 79, 87.
+
+     Women in Paris, 219, 239, 291.
+
+
+     ZIEM, 151.
+
+     Zola, 194, 315.
+
+     Zurbaran, 92.
+
+
+
+
+ABERDEEN: THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+
+
+
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Wanderer in Paris, by E. V. Lucas,
+Illustrated by Walter Dexter</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: A Wanderer in Paris</p>
+<p>Author: E. V. Lucas</p>
+<p>Release Date: November 6, 2011  [eBook #37937]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WANDERER IN PARIS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Melissa McDaniel,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="tnbox">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p>
+<p>Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
+been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i_spine.jpg" width="87" height="350" alt="spine" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter p6"><a name="map" id="map"></a>
+<img src="images/map.jpg" width="650" height="442" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<h1 class="p6">A WANDERER IN PARIS</h1>
+
+<p class="p2 center">OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS</p>
+
+<p class="slimad">Mr. Ingleside<br />
+Over Bemerton's<br />
+Listener's Lure<br />
+London Lavender<br />
+One Day and Another<br />
+Fireside and Sunshine<br />
+Character and Comedy<br />
+Old Lamps for New<br />
+The Hambledon Men<br />
+The Open Road<br />
+The Friendly Town<br />
+Her Infinite Variety<br />
+Good Company<br />
+The Gentlest Art<br />
+The Second Post<br />
+A Little of Everything<br />
+A Swan and Her Friends<br />
+A Wanderer in Florence<br />
+A Wanderer in London<br />
+A Wanderer in Holland<br />
+The British School<br />
+Highways and Byways in Sussex<br />
+Anne's Terrible Good Nature<br />
+The Slowcoach<br />
+Sir Pulteney<br />
+The Life of Charles Lamb<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and<br />
+The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Lamb: I. Miscellaneous Prose; II. Elia;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;III. Children's Books; IV. Poems and<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Plays; V. and VI. Letters</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter p6" style="width: 341px"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a>
+<img src="images/i_005.jpg" width="341" height="650" alt="RUE DE L'HÔTEL DE VILLE" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="flleft s2">HÔTEL DE SENS</span><br />
+THE RUE DE L'HÔTEL DE VILLE</p></div>
+
+<h1 class="p6">A WANDERER IN<br />
+PARIS</h1>
+
+<p class="center s1">BY</p>
+
+<p class="center b1">E. V. LUCAS</p>
+
+<p class="center s1 p4">WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY</p>
+
+<p class="center">WALTER DEXTER</p>
+
+<p class="center s1">AND THIRTY-TWO REPRODUCTIONS FROM WORKS OF ART</p>
+
+<p class="center s1 p4">"I'll go and chat with Paris"</p>
+
+<p class="center s1 i6"><i>&mdash;Romeo and Juliet</i></p>
+
+<p class="center s1 p4">TENTH EDITION</p>
+
+<p class="center p4">METHUEN &amp; CO. LTD.<br />
+36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br />
+LONDON</p>
+
+<div class="center p6">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="editions">
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>First Published (Crown 8vo)</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>August 5th 1909</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Second Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>September 1909</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Third Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>October 1909</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Fourth Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>January 1910</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Fifth Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>June 1910</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Sixth Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>December 1910</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Seventh Edition, revised (Fcap. 8vo)</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>September 1911</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Eighth Edition (Crown 8vo)</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>October 1911</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Ninth Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>March 1912</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Tenth Edition ( " )</i></td><td class="tdl"><i>February 1913</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdl"></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">v</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>Although the reader will quickly make
+the discovery for himself, I should like
+here to emphasise the fact that this is a book
+about Paris and the Parisians written wholly
+from the outside, and containing only so much
+of that city and its citizens as a foreigner
+who has no French friends may observe on
+holiday visits.</p>
+
+<p>I express elsewhere my indebtedness to a
+few French authors. I have also been greatly
+assisted in a variety of ways, but especially
+in the study of the older Paris streets, by
+my friend Mr. Frank Holford.</p>
+
+<p><span class="flright">E. V. L.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center p2 b1">NOTE</p>
+
+<p>Since this new edition was prepared for the press
+the devastating theft of Leonardo da Vinci's "Monna
+Lisa" was perpetrated. Pages 81-87 therefore&mdash;describing
+that picture as one of the chief treasures
+of the Louvre&mdash;must change their tense to the past.</p>
+
+<p><span class="flright">E. V. L.</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">vii</a></span></p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="2" summary="table of contents">
+<col width="270" />
+<col width="220" />
+<col width="260" />
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_i">CHAPTER I</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The English Gates of Paris</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_i">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_ii">CHAPTER II</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Ile de la Cité</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_ii">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_iii">CHAPTER III</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Notre Dame</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_iii">31</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_iv">CHAPTER IV</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Saint Louis and his Island</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_iv">54</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_v">CHAPTER V</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Marais</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_v">61</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_vi">CHAPTER VI</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Louvre: I. The Old Masters</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_vi">78</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_vii">CHAPTER VII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Louvre: II. Modern Pictures and Other Treasures</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_vii">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_viii">CHAPTER VIII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Tuileries</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_viii">114</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_ix">CHAPTER IX</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Place de la Concorde, the Champs Elysées and the
+Invalides</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_ix">132</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">viii</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_x">CHAPTER X</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Boulevard St. Germain and its Tributaries</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_x">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xi">CHAPTER XI</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Latin Quarter</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xi">170</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xii">CHAPTER XII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Panthéon and Sainte Geneviève</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xii">188</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xiii">CHAPTER XIII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Zoos</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xiii">199</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xiv">CHAPTER XIV</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Grands Boulevards: I. The Madeleine to the Opera</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xiv">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xv">CHAPTER XV</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Chair at the Café de la Paix</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xv">227</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xvi">CHAPTER XVI</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Grands Boulevards: II. The Opera to the Place de
+la République</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xvi">244</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xvii">CHAPTER XVII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Montmartre</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xvii">260</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xviii">CHAPTER XVIII</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Elysée to the Hôtel de Ville</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xviii">276</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xix">CHAPTER XIX</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Place des Vosges and Hugo's House</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xix">299</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdc"><a href="#chapter_xx">CHAPTER XX</a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Bastille, Père Lachaise and the End</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#chapter_xx">306</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><a href="#index"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">ix</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<p class="center b1">IN COLOUR</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="2" summary="list of illustrations">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Courtyard of the Compas d'Or</span></td>
+<td class="tdc"><i>To face page</i></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#courtyard">6</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Ile de la Cité from the Pont des Arts</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#ile">40</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Notre Dame</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#notre">58</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#etoile">74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Parc Monceau</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#parc">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#carrousel">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Place de la Concorde</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#concorde">140</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Pont Alexandre III.</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#alexandre">160</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Fontaine de Médicis</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#fontaine">180</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Musée Cluny</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#cluny">200</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Rue de Bièvre</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#bievre">222</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Boulevard des Italiens</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#italiens">240</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Porte St. Denis</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#porte">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Sacre C&oelig;ur de Montmartre from the
+Buttes-Chaumont</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#sacre">280</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Place des Vosges, Southern Entrance</span></td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#vosges">300</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">x</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="p6">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<p class="center b1">IN BLACK AND WHITE</p>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="2" summary="list of illustrations">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Map.</span> From a Drawing by B. C. Boulter</td>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><i><a href="#map">Front Cover</a></i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Nativity.</span> Luini (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Mansell</span></td>
+<td class="topC"><i>To face page</i></td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#nativity">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Giovanna  Tornabuoni  and  the  Cardinal
+Virtues</span>&mdash;Fresco from the Villa Lemmi.<br />
+<span class="i2">Botticelli (Louvre)</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#giovanna">20</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Vierge aux Rochers.</span> Leonardo da Vinci
+(Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#vierge">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Sainte Anne, La Vierge, et l'Enfant Jésus.</span>
+Leonardo da Vinci. (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#anne">36</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Pensée.</span> Rodin (Luxembourg)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#pensee">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Balthasar Castiglione.</span> Raphael (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#balthasar">52</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">L'Homme au Gant.</span> Titian (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#homme">64</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Portrait de Jeune Homme.</span> Attributed to Bigio
+(Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Alinari</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#portrait">70</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Winged Victory of Samothrace.</span> (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Giraudon</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#winged">80</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">La Joconde: Monna Lisa.</span> Leonardo da Vinci
+(Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#joconde">86</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Portrait d'une Dame et sa Fille.</span> Van Dyck
+(Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Mansell</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#vandyck">94</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">xi</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Vallon.</span>  Corot (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+Collection)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#vallon">106</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Printemps.</span> Rousseau (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+Collection)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#printemps">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Vieux Homme et Enfant.</span> Ghirlandaio (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Mansell</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#vieux">136</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Vénus et l'Amour.</span> Rembrandt (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#venus">146</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Les Pèlerins d'Emmaüs.</span> Rembrandt (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#pelerins">154</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Vierge au Donateur.</span> J. van Eyck (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#donateur">166</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Portrait de sa Mère.</span> Whistler (Luxembourg)</td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#mere">176</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Bohémienne.</span> Franz Hals (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#hals">186</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Ste. Geneviève</span>. Puvis de Chavannes (Panthéon)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#chavannes">190</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Leçon de Lecture.</span> Terburg (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#lecon">206</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">La Dentellière.</span> Vermeer of Delft (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Woodbury</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#dentelliere">216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Girl's Head.</span> Ecole de Fabriano (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Mansell</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#head">228</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Bénédicité.</span> Chardin (Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Giraudon</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#benedicite">234</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">Madame Le Brun et sa Fille.</span> Madame Le Brun
+(Louvre)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Hanfstaengl</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#madame">246</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Pont de Mantes.</span> Corot (Louvre, Moreau Collection)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#pont">252</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">xii</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">La Provende des Poules.</span>  Troyon (Louvre,
+Thomy-Thierret Collection)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Alinari</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#provende">266</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+
+<td><span class="smcap">The Windmill.</span> R. P. Bonington (Louvre)</td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#windmill">274</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">L'Amateur d'Estampes.</span>  Daumier (Palais des
+Beaux Arts)</td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#amateur">286</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Baiser.</span> Rodin (Luxembourg)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#baiser">294</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">La Bergère Gardant ses Moutons.</span> Millet
+(Louvre, Chauchard Collection)</td>
+<td class="tdc">"</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#bergere">308</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Le Monument aux Morts.</span> A. Bartholomé (Père
+la Chaise)<br />
+<span class="i2">From a Photograph by Neurdein</span></td>
+<td class="topC">"</td>
+<td class="topR"><a href="#morts">316</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<h2 class="p6">A WANDERER IN PARIS</h2>
+
+<h2><a name="chapter_i" id="chapter_i"></a>CHAPTER I<br />
+THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Gare du Nord and Gare St. Lazare&mdash;The Singing Cabman&mdash;"Vivent
+les femmes!"&mdash;Characteristic Paris&mdash;The Next Morning&mdash;A
+Choice of Delights&mdash;The Compas d'Or&mdash;The World of Dumas&mdash;The
+First Lunch&mdash;Voisin wins.
+</p>
+
+<p>Most travellers from London enter Paris in the
+evening, and I think they are wise. I wish it
+were possible again and again to enter Paris in the
+evening for the first time; but since it is not, let me
+hasten to say that the pleasure of re-entering Paris
+in the evening is one that custom has almost no power
+to stale. Every time that one emerges from the Gare
+du Nord or the Gare St. Lazare one is taken afresh by
+the variegated and vivid activity of it all&mdash;the myriad
+purposeful self-contained bustling people, all moving
+on their unknown errands exactly as they were moving
+when one was here last, no matter how long ago. For
+Paris never changes: that is one of her most precious
+secrets.</p>
+
+<p>The London which one had left seven or eight hours
+before was populous enough and busy enough, Heaven
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span>
+knows, but London's pulse is slow and fairly regular,
+and even at her gayest, even when greeting Royalty,
+she seems to be advising caution and a careful demeanour.
+But Paris&mdash;Paris smiles and Paris sings.
+There is an incredible vivacity in her atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>Sings! This reminds me that on the first occasion
+that I entered Paris&mdash;in the evening, of course&mdash;my
+cabman sang. He sang all the way from the Gare du
+Nord to the Rue Caumartin. This seemed to me
+delightful and odd, although at first I felt in danger of
+attracting more attention than one likes; but as we
+proceeded down the Rue Lafayette&mdash;which nothing but
+song and the fact that it is the high road into Paris
+from England can render tolerable&mdash;I discovered that no
+one minded us. A singing cabman in London would
+bring out the Riot Act and the military; but here he
+was in the picture: no one threw at the jolly fellow
+any of the chilling deprecatory glances which are the
+birthright of every light-hearted eccentric in my own
+land. And so we proceeded to the hotel, often escaping
+collision by the breadth of a single hair, the driver singing
+all the way. What he sang I knew not; but I doubt
+if it was of battles long ago: rather, I should fancy,
+of very present love and mischief. But how fitting a
+first entry into Paris!</p>
+
+<p>An hour or so later&mdash;it was just twenty years ago,
+but I remember it so clearly&mdash;I observed written up in
+chalk in large emotional letters on a public wall the
+words "Vivent les femmes!" and they seemed to me also
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>
+so odd&mdash;it seemed to me so funny that the sentiment
+should be recorded at all, since women were obviously
+going to live whatever happened&mdash;that I laughed aloud.
+But it was not less characteristic of Paris than the
+joyous baritone notes that had proceeded from beneath
+the white tall hat of my cocher. It was as natural for
+one Parisian to desire the continuance of his joy as
+a lover, even to expressing it in chalk in the street, as
+to another to beguile with lyrical snatches the tedium
+of cab-driving.</p>
+
+<p>I was among the Latin people, and, as I quickly
+began to discover, I was myself, for the first time, a
+foreigner. That is a discovery which one quickly makes
+in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>But I have not done yet with the joy of entering and
+re-entering Paris in the evening&mdash;after the long smooth
+journey across the marshes of Picardy or through the
+orchards of Normandy and the valley of the Seine&mdash;whichever
+way one travels. But whether one travels by
+Calais, Boulogne, Dieppe or Havre, whether one alights
+at the Gare du Nord or St. Lazare, once outside the
+station one is in Paris instantly: there is no debatable
+land between either of these termini and the city, as
+there is, for example, between the Gare de Lyons and
+the city. Paris washes up to the very platforms. A
+few steps and here are the foreign tables on the pavements
+and the foreign waiters, so brisk and clean,
+flitting among them; here are the vehicles meeting and
+passing on the wrong or foreign side, and beyond that,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>
+knowing apparently no law at all; here are the deep-voiced
+newsvendors shouting those magic words <i>La
+Patrie!</i> <i>La Patrie!</i> which, should a musician ever write
+a Paris symphony, would recur and recur continually
+beneath its surface harmonies. And here, everywhere,
+are the foreign people in their ordered haste and their
+countless numbers.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasure of entering and re-entering Paris in the
+evening is only equalled by the pleasure of stepping
+forth into the street the next morning in the sparkling
+Parisian air and smelling again the pungent Parisian
+scent and gathering in the foreign look of the place.
+I know of no such exuberance as one draws in with
+these first Parisian inhalations on a fine morning in May
+or June&mdash;and in Paris in May and June it is always fine,
+just as in Paris in January and February it is always cold
+or wet. His would be a very sluggish or disenchanted
+spirit who was not thus exhilarated; for here at his feet
+is the holiday city of Europe and the clean sun over all.</p>
+
+<p>And then comes the question "What to do?" Shall
+we go at once to "Monna Lisa"? But could there
+be a better morning for the children in the Champs-Elysées?
+That beautiful head in the His de la Salle
+collection&mdash;attributed to the school of Fabriano! How
+delightfully the sun must be lighting up the red walls of
+the Place des Vosges! Rodin's "Kiss" at the Luxembourg&mdash;we
+meant to go straight to that! The wheel
+window in Notre Dame, in the north transept&mdash;I have
+been thinking of that ever since we planned to come.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So may others talk and act; but I have no hesitancies.
+My duty is clear as crystal. On the first morning
+I pay a visit of reverence and delight to the ancient
+auberge of the Compas d'Or at No. 64 Rue Montorgeuil.
+And this I shall always do until it is razed to
+the earth, as it seems likely to be under the gigantic
+scheme, beyond Haussmann almost, which is to renovate
+the most picturesque if the least sanitary portions of
+old Paris at a cost of over thirty millions of pounds.
+Unhappy day&mdash;may it be long postponed! For some
+years now I have always approached the Compas d'Or
+with trembling and foreboding. Can it still be there?
+I ask myself. Can that wonderful wooden hanger that
+covers half the courtyard have held so long? Will
+there be a motor-car among the old diligences and
+waggons? But it is always the same.</p>
+
+<p>From the street&mdash;and the Rue Montorgeuil is as a
+whole one of the most picturesque and characteristic
+of the older streets of Paris, with its high white houses,
+each containing fifty families, its narrowness, its barrows
+of fruit and green stuff by both pavements, and
+its crowds of people&mdash;from the street, the Compas d'Or
+is hardly noticeable, for a butcher and a cutler occupy
+most of its façade; but the sign and the old carvings
+over these shops give away the secret, and you pass
+through one of the narrow archways on either side and
+are straightway in a romance by the great Dumas. Into
+just such a courtyard would D'Artagnan have dashed,
+and leaping from one sweating steed leap on another
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span>
+and be off again amid a shower of sparks on the stones.
+Time has stood still here.</p>
+
+<p>There is no other such old inn left. The coach to
+Dreux&mdash;now probably a carrier's cart&mdash;still regularly
+runs from this spot, as it has done ever since the beginning
+of the sixteenth century. Rows of horses
+stand in its massive stables and fill the air with their
+warm and friendly scent; a score of ancient carts huddle
+in the yard, in a corner of which there will probably
+be a little group of women shelling peas; beneath the
+enormous hanger are more vehicles, and masses of hay
+on which the carters sleep. The ordinary noise of
+Paris gives way, in this sanctuary of antiquity, to the
+scraping of hoofs, the rattle of halter bolts, and the
+clatter of the wooden shoes of ostlers. It is the past in
+actual being&mdash;Civilisation, like Time, has stood still in
+the yard of the Compas d'Or. That is why I hasten to
+it so eagerly and shall always do so until it disappears
+for ever. There is nothing else in Paris like it.</p>
+
+<p>And after? Well, the next thing is to have lunch.
+And since this lunch&mdash;being the first&mdash;will be the best
+lunch of the holiday and therefore the best meal of the
+holiday (for every meal on a holiday in Paris is a little
+better than that which follows it), it is an enterprise
+not lightly to be undertaken. One must decide carefully,
+for this is to be an extravagance: the search for the
+little out-of-the-way restaurant will come later. To-day
+we are rich.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="courtyard" id="courtyard"></a>
+<img src="images/i_022.jpg" width="650" height="360" alt="THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D&#39;OR, RUE MONTORGEUIL" />
+<p class="caption">THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D&#39;OR, RUE MONTORGEUIL</p></div>
+
+<p>This book is not a guide for the gastronome and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span>
+gourmet. How indeed could it be, even although
+when heaven sends a cheerful hour one would scorn to
+refrain? Yet none the less it would be pleasant in
+this commentary upon a city illustrious for its culinary
+ingenuity and genius to say something of restaurants.
+But what is one to say here on such a theme? Volumes
+are needed. Every one has his own taste. For me
+Voisin's remains, and will, I imagine, remain the most
+distinguished, the most serene, restaurant in Paris, in
+its retired situation at the corner of the Rue Saint-Honoré
+and the Rue Cambon, with its simple decoration, its
+unhastening order and despatch, its Napoleonic head-waiter,
+its Bacchic wine-waiter (with a head that calls
+for vine leaves) and its fastidious cuisine. To Voisin's
+I should always make my way when I wished not only
+to be delicately nourished but to be quiet and philosophic
+and retired. Only one other restaurant do I
+know where the cooking gives me the satisfaction of
+Voisin's&mdash;where excessive richness never intrudes&mdash;and
+that is a discovery of my own and not lightly to be
+given away. Voisin's is a name known all over the
+world: one can say nothing new about Voisin's; but
+the little restaurant with which I propose to tantalise
+you, although the resort of some of the most thoughtful
+eaters in Paris, has a reputation that has not spread.
+It is not cheap, it is little less dear indeed than the
+Café Anglais or Paillard's, to name the two restaurants
+of renown which are nearest to it; its cellar is poor and
+limited to half a dozen wines; its two rooms are minute
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span>
+and hot; but the idea of gastronomy reigns&mdash;everything
+is subordinated to the food and the cooking. If you
+order a trout, it is the best trout that France can breed,
+and it is swimming in the kitchen at the time the
+solitary waiter repeats your command; no such asparagus
+reaches any other Paris restaurant, no such Pré Salé
+and no such wild strawberries. But I have said enough;
+almost I fear I have said too much. These discoveries
+must be kept sacred.</p>
+
+<p>And for lunch to-day? Shall it be chez Voisin, or
+chez Foyot, by the Sénat, or chez Lapérouse (where the
+two Stevensons used to eat and talk) on the Quai des
+Augustins? Or shall it be at my nameless restaurant?</p>
+
+<p>Voisin's to-day, I think.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_ii" id="chapter_ii"></a>CHAPTER II<br />
+THE ILE DE LA CITÉ</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+Paris Old and New&mdash;The Heart of France&mdash;Saint Louis&mdash;Old Palaces&mdash;Henri
+IV.'s Statue&mdash;Ironical Changes&mdash;The Seine and the
+Thames&mdash;The Quais and their Old Books&mdash;Diderot and the Lady&mdash;Police
+and Red Tape&mdash;The Conciergerie&mdash;Marie Antoinette&mdash;Paris
+and its Clocks&mdash;Méryon's Etchings&mdash;French Advocates&mdash;A
+Hall of Babel&mdash;Sainte Chapelle&mdash;French Newspapers Serious
+and Comic&mdash;The Only Joke&mdash;The English and the French.</p>
+
+<p>Where to begin? That is a problem in the writing
+of every book, but peculiarly so with Paris;
+because, however one may try to be chronological, the
+city is such a blend of old and new that that design
+is frustrated at every turn. Nearly every building of
+importance stands on the site of some other which
+instantly jerks us back hundreds of years, while if we
+deal first with the original structure, such as the remains
+of the Roman Thermes at the Cluny, built about
+300, straightway the Cluny itself intrudes, and we leap
+from the third century to the nineteenth; or if we trace
+the line of the wall of Philip Augustus we come swiftly
+to so modern an institution as the Mont-de-Piété; or
+if we climb to such a recent thoroughfare as the Boulevard
+de Clichy, with its palpitatingly novel cabarets
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>
+and allurements, we must in order to do so ascend a
+mountain which takes its name from the martyrdom
+of St. Denis and his companions in the third century.
+It is therefore well, since Paris is such a tangle of past
+and present, to disregard order altogether and to let
+these pages reflect her character. Expect then, dear
+reader, to be twitched about the ages without mercy.</p>
+
+<p>Let us begin in earnest by leaving the mainland and
+adventuring upon an island. For the heart of Paris is
+enisled: Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, the Palais de
+Justice, the Hôtel Dieu, the Préfecture de Police, the
+Morgue&mdash;all are entirely surrounded by water. The
+history of the Cité is the history of Paris, almost the
+history of France.</p>
+
+<p>Paris, the home of the Parisii, consisted of nothing
+but this island when Julius Cæsar arrived there with
+his conquering host. The Romans built their palace
+here, and here Julian the Apostate loved to sojourn.
+It was in Julian's reign that the name was changed
+from Lutetia (which it is still called by picturesque
+writers) to Parisea Civitas, from which Paris is an easy
+derivative. The Cité remained the home of government
+when the Merovingians under Clovis expelled the
+Romans, and again under the Carlovingians. The
+second Royal Palace was begun by the first of the
+Capets, Hugh, in the tenth century, and it was completed
+by Robert the Pious in the eleventh. Louis
+VII. decreed Notre Dame; but it was Saint Louis,
+reigning from 1226 to 1270, who was the father of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>
+Cité as we now know it. He it was who built Sainte
+Chapelle, and it was he who surrendered part of the
+Palace to the Law.</p>
+
+<p>While it was the home of the Court and the Church
+the island naturally had little enough room for ordinary
+residents, who therefore had to live, whether aristocrats
+or tradespeople, on the mainland, either on the north
+or south side of the river. The north side was for the
+most part given to merchants, the south to scholars,
+for Saint Louis was the builder not only of Sainte
+Chapelle but also of the Sorbonne. Very few of the
+smaller buildings of that time now remain: the oldest
+Paris that one now wanders in so delightedly, whether
+on the north bank or the south, whether near the
+Sorbonne or the Hôtel de Sens, dates, with a few
+fortunate exceptions, from the fifteenth and sixteenth
+centuries.</p>
+
+<p>Nowhere may the growth of Paris be better observed
+and better understood than on the highest point on this
+Island of the City&mdash;on the summit of Notre Dame.
+Standing there you quickly comprehend the Paris of
+the ages: from Cæsar's Lutetia, occupying the island
+only and surrounded by fields and wastes, to the Paris of
+this year of our Lord, spreading over the neighbouring
+hills, such a hive of human activity and energy as will
+hardly bear thinking of&mdash;a Paris which has thrown off the
+yoke not only of the kings that once were all-powerful but
+of the Church too.</p>
+
+<p>By the twelfth century the kings of France had begun
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>
+to live in smaller palaces more to their personal
+taste, such as the Hôtel Barbette, the Hôtel de Sens
+(much of which still stands, as a glass factory, at the
+corner of the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville and the Rue de
+Figuier, one of the oldest of the Paris mansions), the
+Hôtel de Bourgogne (in the Rue Etienne Marcel: you
+may still see its tower of Jean Sans Peur), the Hôtel
+de Nevers (what remains of which is at the corner of
+the Rue Colbert and Rue Richelieu), and, of course,
+the Louvre. Charles VII. (1422-1461) was the first
+king to settle at the Louvre permanently.</p>
+
+<p>To gain the Ile de la Cité we leave the mainland
+of Paris at the Quai du Louvre, and make our crossing
+by the Pont Neuf. Neuf no longer, for as a matter of
+historical fact it is now the oldest of all the Paris bridges:
+that is, in its foundations, for the visible part of it has
+been renovated quite recently. The first stone of it
+was laid by Henri III. in 1578: it was not ready for
+many years, but in 1603 Henri IV. (of Navarre) ventured
+across a plank of it on his way to the Louvre,
+after several previous adventurers had broken their
+necks in the attempt. "So much the less kings they,"
+was his comment. He lived to see the bridge finished.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the statue of this monarch, whom the
+French still adore, is the garden that finishes off the
+west end of the Ile very prettily, sending its branches
+up above the parapet. Here we may stop; for
+we are now on the Island itself, midway between the
+two halves of the bridge, and the statue has such
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>
+a curious history, so typical of the French character,
+that I should like to tell it. The original bronze figure,
+erected by Louis XIII. in 1614, was taken down in 1792,
+a time of stress, and melted into a commodity that was
+then of vastly greater importance than the effigies of
+kings&mdash;namely cannon. (As we shall see in the course
+of this book, Paris left the hands of the Revolutionaries
+a totally different city from the Paris of 1791.) Then
+came peace again, and then came Napoleon, and in the
+collection at the Archives is to be seen a letter written
+by the Emperor from Schönbrunn, on August 15th, 1809,
+stating that he wishes an obelisk to be erected on the site
+of the Henri IV. statue&mdash;an obelisk of Cherbourg granite,
+180 pieds d'élévation, with the inscription "l'Empereur
+Napoléon au Peuple Français". That, however, was not
+done.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed on, Napoleon fell, and Louis XVIII.
+returned from his English home to the throne of France,
+and was not long in perpetrating one of those symmetrical
+ironical jests which were then in vogue. Taking
+from the Vendôme column the bronze statue of Napoleon
+(who was safely under the thumb of Sir Hudson Lowe
+at St. Helena, well out of mischief), and to this adding
+a second bronze statue of the same usurper intended for
+some other site, the monarch directed that they should
+be melted into liquid from which a new statue of Henri
+IV.&mdash;the very one at which we are at this moment
+gazing&mdash;should be cast. It was done, and though to
+the Röntgen-rayed vision of the cynic it may appear
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>
+to be nothing more or less than a double Napoleon,
+it is to the world at large Henri IV., the hero of
+Ivry.</p>
+
+<p>I have seen comparisons between the Seine and the
+Thames; but they are pointless. You cannot compare
+them: one is a London river, and the other is a Paris
+river. The Seine is a river of light; the Thames is a river
+of twilight. The Seine is gay; the Thames is sombre.
+When dusk falls in Paris the Seine is just a river in the
+evening; when dusk falls in London the Thames becomes
+a wonderful mystery, an enchanted stream in a land of
+old romance. The Thames is, I think, vastly more
+beautiful; but on the other hand, the Thames has no
+merry passenger steamers and no storied quais. The
+Seine has all the advantage when we come to the consideration
+of what can be done with a river's banks in
+a great city. For the Seine has a mile of old book and
+curiosity stalls, whereas the Thames has nothing.</p>
+
+<p>And yet the coping of the Thames embankment is as
+suitable for such a purpose as that of the Seine, and as
+many Londoners are fond of books. How is it? Why
+should all the bookstalls and curiosity stalls of London
+be in Whitechapel and Farringdon Street and the Cattle
+Market? That is a mystery which I have never solved
+and never shall. Why are the West Central and the
+West districts wholly debarred&mdash;save in Charing Cross
+Road, and that I believe is suspect&mdash;from loitering at
+such alluring street banquets? It is beyond understanding.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The history of the stall-holders of the quais has been
+told very engagingly by M. Octave Uzanne, whom one
+might describe as the Austin Dobson and the Augustine
+Birrell of France, in his work <i>Bouquinistes et Bouquineurs</i>.
+They established themselves first on the Pont Neuf, but
+in 1650 were evicted. (The Paris bridges, I might say
+here, become at the present time the resort of every kind
+of pedlar directly anything occurs to suspend their
+traffic.)</p>
+
+<p>The parapets of the quais then took the place of those
+of the bridge, and there the booksellers' cases have been
+ever since. But no longer are they the gay resort that
+once they were. It was considered, says M. Uzanne,
+writing of the eighteenth century, "quite the correct
+thing for the promenaders to gossip round the bookstalls
+and discuss the wit and fashionable writings of
+the day. At all hours of the day these quarters were
+much frequented, above all by literary men, lawyers
+clerks and foreigners. One historical fact, not generally
+known, merits our attention, for it shows that not
+only the libraries and the stall-keepers assisted in drawing
+men of letters to the vicinity of the Hôtel Mazarin,
+but there also existed a 'rendez-vous' for the sale of
+English and French journals. It was, in fact, at the
+corner of the Rue Dauphine and the Quai Conti that
+the first establishment known as the Café Anglais was
+started. One read in big letters on the signboard:
+Café Anglais&mdash;Becket, propriétaire. This was the meeting
+place of the greater part of English writers visiting
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>
+Paris who wished to become acquainted with the literary
+men of the period, the encyclopædists and poets of the
+Court of Louis XV. This Café offered to its habitués
+the best-known English papers of the day, the <i>Westminster
+Gazette</i>, the <i>London Evening Post</i>, the <i>Daily
+Advertiser</i>, and the various pamphlets published on the
+other side of the Channel....</p>
+
+<p>"You must know that the Quai Conti up to the year
+1769 was only a narrow passage leading down to a place
+for watering horses. Between the Pont Neuf and the
+building known as the Château-Gaillard at the opening
+of the Rue Guénégaud, were several small shops, and a
+small fair continually going on.</p>
+
+<p>"This Château-Gaillard, which was a dependency of
+the old Porte de Nesle, had been granted by Francis I.
+to Benvenuto Cellini. The famous Florentine goldsmith
+received visits from the Sovereign protector of
+arts and here executed the work he had been ordered to
+do, under his Majesty's very eyes....</p>
+
+<p>"One calls to mind that Sterne, in his delightful
+<i>Sentimental Journey</i>, was set down in 1767 at the Hôtel
+de Modène, in the Rue Jacob, opposite the Rue des Deux-Anges,
+and one has not forgotten his love for the quais
+and the adventure which befell him while chatting to a
+bookseller on the Quai Conti, of whom he wished to buy
+a copy of Shakespeare so that he might read once more
+Polonius' advice to his son before starting on his travels.</p>
+
+<p>"Diderot, in his <i>Salon</i> of 1761, relates his flirtation
+with the pretty girl who served in one of these shops
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>
+and afterwards became the wife of Menze. 'She called
+herself Miss Babuti and kept a small book shop on the
+Quai des Augustins, spruce and upright, white as a lily
+and red as a rose. I would enter her shop, in my own
+brisk way: "Mademoiselle, the 'Contes de la Fontaine'
+... a 'Petronius' if you please."&mdash;"Here you are, Sir.
+Do you want any other books?"&mdash;"Forgive me, yes"&mdash;"What
+is it?"&mdash;"La 'Religieuse en Chemise.'"&mdash;"For
+shame, Sir! Do you read such trash?"&mdash;"Trash,
+is it, Mademoiselle? I did not know...."'"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="nativity" id="nativity"></a>
+<img src="images/i_034.jpg" width="427" height="650" alt="The Nativity" />
+<p class="caption">THE NATIVITY<br />
+<span class="s2">LUINI</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>M. Uzanne's pages are filled with such charming
+gossip and with character-sketches of the most famous
+booksellers and book-hunters. One pretty trait that
+would have pleased Mary Lamb (and perhaps did, in
+1822, when her brother took her to the "Boro' side of
+the Seine") is mentioned by M. Uzanne: "The stall-keeper
+on the quais always has an indulgent eye for
+the errand boy or the little bonne [slavey] who stops in
+front of his stall and consults gratis 'La Clef des Songes'
+or 'Le Secrétaire des Dames'. Who would not commend
+him for this kind toleration? In fact it is very
+rare to find the bookseller in such cases not shutting
+his eyes&mdash;metaphorically&mdash;and refraining from walking
+up to the reader, for fear of frightening her away.
+And then the young girl moves off with a light step,
+repeating to herself the style of letter or the explanation
+of a dream, rich in hope and illusions for the rest of the
+day."</p>
+
+<p>But the best description of the book-hunter of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>
+quais is that given to Dumas by Charles Nodier. "This
+animal," he said, "has two legs and is featherless,
+wanders usually up and down the quais and the boulevards,
+stopping at all the old bookstalls, turning over
+every book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat
+that is too long for him and trousers that are too short;
+he always wears on his feet shoes that are down at the
+heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, under his coat and
+over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together with
+string. One of the signs by which he can be recognised
+is that he never washes his hands."</p>
+
+<p>Henri IV.'s statue faces the Place Dauphine and the
+west façade of the Palais de Justice. At No. 28 in the
+Place Dauphine Madame Roland was born, little thinking
+she was destined one day to be imprisoned in the
+neighbouring Conciergerie, which, to those who can
+face the difficulties of obtaining a ticket of admission,
+is one of the most interesting of the Island's many interesting
+buildings. But the process is not easy, and
+there is only one day in the week on which the prison
+is shown.</p>
+
+<p>The tickets are issued at the Préfecture of Police&mdash;the
+Scotland Yard of Paris&mdash;which is the large building
+opposite Sainte Chapelle. One may either write or call.
+I advise writing; for calling is not as simple as it
+sounds: simplicity and sightseeing in Paris being indeed
+not on the best terms. It was not until I had asked
+five several officials that I found even the right door
+of the vast structure, and then having passed a room
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>
+full of agents (or policemen) smoking and jesting, and
+having climbed to a third storey, I was in danger of losing
+for ever the privilege of seeing what I had fixed my
+mind upon, wholly because, although I knew the name
+and street of my hotel, I did not know its number.
+Who ever dreamed that hotels have numbers? Has the
+Savoy a number in the Strand? Is the Ritz numbered
+in Piccadilly? Not that I was living in any such
+splendour, but still, on the face of it, a hotel has a name
+because it has no number. "C'est égal," the gentleman
+said at last, after a pantomime of impossibility and
+reproach, and I took my ticket, bowed to the ground,
+replaced my hat and was free to visit the Conciergerie
+on the morrow. Such are the amenities of the tourist's
+life.</p>
+
+<p>Let me here say that the agents of Paris are by far
+its politest citizens, and in appearance the healthiest.
+I have never met an uncivil agent, and I once met one
+who refused a tip after he had been of considerable
+service to me. Never did I attempt to tip another.
+They have their defects, no doubt: they have not the
+authority that we give our police: their management
+of traffic is pathetically incompetent; but they are street
+gentlemen and the foreigner has no better friend.</p>
+
+<p>The Conciergerie is the building on the Quai de l'Horloge
+with the circular towers beneath extinguishers&mdash;an
+impressive sight from the bridges and the other bank of
+the river. Most of its cells are now used as rooms for
+soldiers (André Chénier's dungeon is one of their kitchens);
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span>
+but a few rooms of the deepest historical interest have
+been left as they were. These are displayed by a listless
+guide who rises to animation only when the time comes
+to receive his bénéfice and offer for sale a history of his
+preserves.</p>
+
+<p>One sees first the vaulted Salle Saint Louis, called the
+Salle des Pas Perdus because it was through it that the
+victims of the Revolution walked on their way to the
+Cour de Mai and execution. The terribly significant
+name has since passed to the great lobby of the Palais
+de Justice immediately above it, where it has less appropriateness.
+It is of course the cell of Marie Antoinette
+that is the most poignant spot in this grievous place.
+When the Queen was here the present room was only
+about half its size, having a partition across it, behind
+which two soldiers were continually on guard, day and
+night. The Queen was kept here, suffering every kind
+of indignity and petty tyranny, from early September,
+1793, until October 16th. Her chair, in which she sat
+most of the time, faced the window of the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>A few acts of kindness reached her in spite of the
+vigilance of the authorities; but very few. I quote
+the account of two from the official guide, a poor
+thing, which I was weak enough to buy: "The Queen
+had no complaint to make against the concierges
+Richard nor their successors the Baults. It is told
+that one day Richard asked a fruitseller in the
+neighbourhood to select him the best of her melons,
+whatever it might cost. 'It is for a very important
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>
+personage, then?' said the seller disdainfully, looking at
+the concierge's threadbare clothes. 'Yes,' said he, 'it is
+for some one who was once very important; she is so no
+longer; it is for the Queen.' 'The Queen,' exclaimed the
+tradeswoman, turning over all her melons, 'the Queen!
+Oh, poor woman! Here, make her eat that, and I won't
+have you pay for it....'</p>
+
+<p>"One of the gendarmes on duty having smoked during
+the night, learnt the following day that the Queen,
+whom he noticed was very pale, had suffered from the
+smell of the tobacco; he smashed his pipe, swearing not to
+smoke any more. It was he also who said to those who
+came in contact with Marie Antoinette: 'Whatever
+you do, don't say anything to her about her children'."</p>
+
+<p>For her trial the Queen was taken to the Tribunal
+sitting in what is now the First Circle Chamber of the
+Palais de Justice, and led back in the evening to her
+cell. She was condemned to death on the fifteenth, and
+that night wrote a letter to her sister-in-law Elizabeth
+which we shall see in the Archives Nationales: it is
+firmly written.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="giovanna" id="giovanna"></a>
+<img src="images/i_040.jpg" width="650" height="475" alt="GIOVANNA TORNABUONI" />
+<p class="caption">GIOVANNA TORNABUONI AND THE CARDINAL VIRTUES<br />
+<span class="s2">BOTTICELLI. FRESCO FROM THE VILLA LEMMI</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(Louvre)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>The Conciergerie had many other prisoners, but none
+so illustrious. Robespierre occupied for twenty-four
+hours the little cell adjoining that of the Queen, now
+the vestry of the chapel. Madame Du Barry and
+Madame Récamier had cells adjacent to that of Madame
+Roland. Later Maréchal Ney was imprisoned here.
+The oldest part of all&mdash;the kitchens of Saint Louis&mdash;are
+not shown.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Pont au Change, the bridge which connects the
+Place du Châtelet with the Boulevard du Palais, the
+main street of the Ile de la Cité, was once (as the Ponte
+Vecchio at Florence still is) the headquarters of goldsmiths
+and small bankers. Not the least of the losses
+that civilisation and rebuilders have brought upon us
+is the disappearance of the shops and houses from the
+bridges. Old London Bridge&mdash;how one regrets that!</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the Conciergerie is the Horloge that
+gives the Quai its name&mdash;a floridly decorated clock which
+by no means conveys the impression that it has kept
+time for over five hundred years and is the oldest exposed
+time-piece in France. Paris, by the way, is very
+poor in public clocks, and those that she has are not
+too trustworthy. The one over the Gare St. Lazare
+has perhaps the best reputation; but time in Paris is
+not of any great importance. For most Parisians there
+is an inner clock which strikes with perfect regularity at
+about twelve and seven, and no other hours really
+matter. And yet a certain show of marking time is
+made in the hotels, where every room has an elaborate
+ormolu clock, usually under a glass case and rarely
+going. And in one hotel I remember a large clock on
+every landing, of which I passed three on my way upstairs;
+and their testimony was so various that it was
+two hours later by each, so that by the time I had
+reached my room it was nearly time to get up. On asking
+the waiter the reason he said it was because they
+were synchronised by electricity.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There has been a Tour de l'Horloge at this corner
+of the Conciergerie ever since it was ordained by Philippe
+le Bel in 1299; the present clock, or at least its scheme
+of decoration, dates, however, from Henri III.'s reign,
+about 1585. The last elaborate restoration was in
+1852. In the tower above was a bell that was rung
+only on rare occasions. The usual accounts of the
+Massacre of St. Bartholomew say that the signal for
+that outrage was sounded by the bell of St. Germain
+l'Auxerrois; but others give it to the bell of the Tour
+de l'Horloge. As they are some distance from each
+other, perhaps both were concerned; but since St.
+Germain l'Auxerrois is close to the Louvre, where the
+King was waiting for the carnage to begin, it is probable
+that it rang the first notes.</p>
+
+<p>One of Méryon's most impressive and powerful etchings
+represents the Tour de l'Horloge and the façade of the
+Conciergerie. It is a typical example of his strange and
+gloomy genius, for while it is nothing else in the world
+but what it purports to be, it is also quite unlike the
+Tour de l'Horloge and the façade of the Conciergerie
+as any ordinary eyes have seen them. They are made
+terrible and sinister: they have been passed through
+the dark crucible of Méryon's mind. To see Paris as
+Méryon saw it needs a great effort of imagination, so
+swiftly and instinctively do these people remove the
+traces of unhappiness or disaster. It is the nature of
+Paris to smile and to forget; from any lapse into woe
+she recovers with extraordinary rapidity.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Méryon's Paris glowers and shudders; there is blood
+on her hands and guilt in her heart. I will not say
+that his concept is untrue, because I believe that the
+concept formed by a man of genius is always true, although
+it may not contain all the truth, and indeed one
+has to recall very little history to fall easily into Méryon's
+mood; but for the visitor who has chosen Paris for his
+holiday&mdash;the typical reader, for example, of this book&mdash;Mr.
+Dexter's concept of Paris is a more natural one. (I
+wish, by the way, before it is too late, that Mr. Muirhead
+Bone would devote some time to the older parts of
+the city&mdash;particularly to the Marais. How it lies to
+his hand!)</p>
+
+<p>Since we are at the gates of the Palais de Justice let
+us spend a little time among the advocates and their
+clients in the great hall&mdash;the Salle des Pas Perdus. (In
+an interesting work, by the way, on this building, with
+a preface by the younger Dumas, the amendment, "La
+Salle du temps perdu" is recommended.) The French
+law courts, as a whole, are little different from our own:
+they have the same stuffiness, they give the same impression
+of being divided between the initiated and the
+uninitiated, the little secret society of the Bar and the
+great innocent world. But the Salle des Pas Perdus is
+another thing altogether. There is nothing like that
+in the Strand. Our Strand counsel are a dignified,
+clean-shaven, be-wigged race, striving to appear old
+and inscrutable and important. They are careful of
+appearances; they receive instructions only through
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>
+solicitors; they affect to weigh their words; sagacious
+reserve is their fetish. Hence our law courts, although
+there are many consultations and incessant passings to
+and fro, are yet subdued in tone and overawing to the
+talkative.</p>
+
+<p>But the Palais de Justice!&mdash;Babel was inaudible
+beside it. In the Palais de Justice everyone talks at
+once; no one cares a sou for appearances or reticence;
+there are no wigs, no shorn lips, no affectation of a
+superhuman knowledge of the world. The French
+advocate comes into direct communication with his
+client&mdash;for the most part here. The movement as well
+as the vociferation is incessant, for out of this great hall
+open as many doors as there are in a French farce, and
+every door is continually swinging. Indeed that is the
+chief effect conveyed: that one is watching a farce,
+since there has never been a farce yet without a
+legal gentleman in his robes and black velvet cap. The
+chief difference is that here there are hundreds of them.
+As a final touch of humour, or lack of gravity, I may
+add that notices forbidding smoking are numerous, and
+every advocate and every client is puffing hard at his
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Victor Hugo's <i>Notre Dame</i> begins, it will be remembered,
+in the great Hall of the Palais de Justice, where
+Gringoire's neglected mystery play was performed and
+Quasimodo won the prize for ugliness. The Hall, as
+Hugo says, was burned in 1618: by a fire which, he
+tells us, was made necessary by the presence in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>
+archives of the Palais of the documents in the case of
+the assassination of Henri IV. by Ravaillac. Certain of
+Ravaillac's accomplices and instigators wishing these
+papers to disappear, the fire followed as a matter of
+course, as naturally as in China a house had to be
+burned down before there could be roast pig.</p>
+
+<p>Sainte Chapelle, which, with the kitchens of Saint
+Louis under the Conciergerie, is all that remains of the
+royal period of the Palais de Justice, is, except on
+Mondays, always open during the reasonable daylight
+hours and is wholly free from vexatious restrictions.
+Sanctity having passed from it, the French sightseers
+do not even remove their hats, although I have noticed
+that the English and Americans still find the habit too
+strong. The Chapelle may easily disappoint, for such
+is the dimness of its religious light that little is visible
+save the dark coloured windows. One is, however,
+conscious of perfect proportions and such ecclesiastical
+elegance as paint and gold can convey. It is in fact
+exquisite, yet not with an exquisiteness of simplicity but
+of design and elaboration. It is like a jewel&mdash;almost
+a trinket&mdash;which Notre Dame might have once worn
+on her breast and tired of. Its flêche is really beautiful;
+it darts into the sky with only less assurance and
+joy than that of Notre Dame, and I always look up
+with pleasure to the angel on the eastern point of the
+roof.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="vierge" id="vierge"></a>
+<img src="images/i_048.jpg" width="390" height="650" alt="LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS" />
+<p class="caption">LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS<br />
+<span class="s2">LEONARDO DA VINCI</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>What one has the greatest difficulty in believing is
+that Sainte Chapelle is six hundred and fifty years old.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span>
+It was built for the relics brought from the Crusades
+by Saint Louis, which are now in the Treasury of Notre
+Dame. The Chapel has, of course, known the restorer's
+hand, but it is virtually the original structure, and
+some of the original glass is still here preserved amid
+reconstructions. To me Sainte Chapelle's glass makes
+little appeal; but many of my friends talk of nothing
+else. Let us thank God for differences of taste. During
+the Commune (as recently as 1871) an attempt was
+made to burn Sainte Chapelle, together with the Palais
+de Justice, but it just failed. That was the third fire
+it has survived.</p>
+
+<p>From Sainte Chapelle we pass through the Rue de
+Lutèce, which is opposite, across the Boulevard, because
+there is a statue here of some interest&mdash;that of Renaudot,
+who lived in the first half of the seventeenth
+century at No. 8 Quai du Marché Neuf, close by, and
+founded in 1631 the first French newspaper, the <i>Gazette
+de France</i>. Little could he have foreseen the consequences
+of his rash act! It is amusing to stand here
+a while and meditate on the torrent that has proceeded
+from that small spring. Other cities have as busy a
+journalistic life as Paris, and in London the paper boys
+are more numerous and insistent, while in London we
+have also the contents' bills, which are unknown to
+France; and yet Paris seems to me to be more a city
+of newspapers than even London is. Perhaps it is the
+kiosques that convey the impression.</p>
+
+<p>The London papers and the Paris papers could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>
+well be more different. In the matter of size, Paris, I
+think, has all the advantage, for one may read everything
+in a few minutes; but in the matter of ingredients
+the advantage surely lies with us, for although English
+papers tell far too much, and by their own over-curiousness
+foster inquisitiveness and busy-bodydom, yet they
+have some sense of what is important, and one can always
+find the significant news. In Paris, if one excepts the
+best papers, the <i>Temps</i> in particular, the significant
+news is elusive. What one will find, however, is a
+short story or a literary essay written with distinction,
+an anecdote of the day by no means adapted for the
+young person, and a number of trumpery tragedies of
+passion or excess, minutely told; and in the <i>Figaro</i>
+once or twice a week an excellent humorous or satirical
+drawing. The signed articles are always good, and
+when critical usually fearless, but the unsigned notices
+of a new play or spectacle credit it with perfection in
+every detail; and here, at any rate, as in our best reviews
+of books, we are in a position to feel some of the
+satisfaction that proceeds from conscious superiority.</p>
+
+<p>But, it has to be remembered, in Paris people go to the
+theatre automatically, whereas we pick and choose and
+have our reasons, and even talk of one play being moral
+and another immoral, and therefore in Paris an honest
+criticism of a play is of little importance. The Paris
+<i>Daily Mail</i> seems to have fallen into line very naturally,
+for I find in it, on the morning on which I write these
+lines, a puff of the Capucines revue, saying that it kept
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>
+the house in continuous laughter by its innocent fun, and
+will doubtless draw all Paris. As if (i) the laughter in
+any Paris theatre was ever continuous, and as if (ii)
+there was ever any innocent fun at the Capucines, and as
+if (iii) all Paris would go near that theatre if there were!</p>
+
+<p>One reason, I imagine, for the diffuseness of the
+English paper and the brevity of the French, is that
+the English have so little natural conversation that
+they find it useful to acquire news on which to base
+more; while the French need no such assistance. The
+English again are interested in other nations, whereas
+the French care nothing for any land but France.
+There is no space in which to continue this not untempting
+analysis: it would require much room, for
+to understand thoroughly the difference between, say, the
+<i>Daily Telegraph</i> and the <i>Journal</i> is to understand the
+difference between England and France.</p>
+
+<p>The French comic papers one sees everywhere&mdash;except
+in people's hands. I suppose they are bought, or
+they would not be published; but I have hardly ever
+observed a Frenchman reading one that was his own
+property. The fault of the French comic paper is
+monotony. Voltaire accused the English of having
+seventy religions and only one sauce; my quarrel with
+the French is that they have seventy sauces and only
+one joke. This joke you meet everywhere. Artists
+of diabolical cleverness illustrate it in colours every
+week; versifiers and musicians introduce it into songs;
+comic singers sing it; playwrights dramatise it; novelists
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>
+and journalists weave it into prose. It is the
+oldest joke and it is ever new. Nothing can prevent a
+Parisian laughing at it as if it were as fresh as his roll,
+his journal or his petit Gervais. For a people with a
+world-wide reputation for wit, this is very strange; but
+in some directions the French are incorrigibly juvenile,
+almost infantine. Personally I envy them for it. I
+think it must be charming never to grow out of such
+an affection for indecency that even a nursery mishap
+can still be always funny.</p>
+
+<p>One of the comic papers must, however, be exempted
+from these generalisations. <i>Le Rire</i>, <i>Le Journal Amusant</i>,
+<i>La Vie Parisienne</i> and the scores of cheaper imitations
+may depend for their living on the one joke; but
+<i>L'Assiette au Beurre</i> is more serious. <i>L'Assiette au
+Beurre</i> is first and foremost a satirist. It chastises
+continually, and its whip is often scorpions. Even its
+lighter numbers, chiefly given to ridicule, contain streaks
+of savagery.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the brief Rue de Lutèce is the great
+Hôtel Dieu, the oldest hospital in Paris, having been
+founded in the seventh century; and to the left of it is
+one of the Paris flower markets, where much beautiful
+colour may be seen very formally and unintelligently
+arranged. Gardens are among those things that we
+order (or shall I say disorder?) better than the French
+do.</p>
+
+<p>And now we will enter Notre Dame.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_iii" id="chapter_iii"></a>CHAPTER III<br />
+NOTRE DAME</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+Pagan Origins and Christian Predecessors&mdash;The Beginnings of Notre
+Dame&mdash;Victor Hugo&mdash;The Dangers of Renovation&mdash;Old Glass
+and New&mdash;A Wedding&mdash;The Cathedral's Great Moment&mdash;The
+Hundred Poor Girls and Louis XVI.&mdash;The Revolution&mdash;Mrs.
+Momoro, Goddess of Reason&mdash;The Legend of Our Lady of the
+Bird&mdash;Coronation of Napoleon&mdash;The Communards and the
+Students&mdash;The Treasures of the Sacristy&mdash;Three Hundred and
+Ninety-seven Steps&mdash;Quasimodo and Esmeralda&mdash;Paris at our
+Feet&mdash;The Eiffel Tower&mdash;The Devils of Notre Dame&mdash;The Precincts&mdash;Notre
+Dame from the Quai.</p>
+
+<p>If the Ile de la Cité is the eye of Paris, then, to
+adapt one of Oliver Wendell Holmes' metaphors,
+Notre Dame is its pupil. It stands on ground that has
+been holy, or at least religious, for many centuries, for
+part of its site was once occupied by the original mother
+church of Paris, St. Etienne, built in the fourth century;
+and close by, in the Place du Parvis, have been discovered
+the foundations of another church, dating from
+the sixth century, dedicated to Sainte Marie; while
+beneath that are the remains of a Temple of Apollo or
+Jupiter, relics of which we shall see at the Cluny. The
+origin of Notre Dame, the fusion of these two churches,
+is wrapped in darkness; but Victor Hugo roundly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>
+states that the first stone of it was laid by Charlemagne
+(who reigned from 768 to 814, and whose noble equestrian
+statue stands just outside), and the last by Philip
+Augustus, who was a friend of our Richard C&oelig;ur de
+Lion. The more usual account of the older parts of
+the Notre Dame that one sees to-day is that the first
+stone of it was laid in 1163, in the reign of Louis VII.,
+by Pope Alexander III., who chanced then to be in
+Paris engaged in the task of avoiding his enemies, the
+Ghibellines, and that in almost exactly a hundred years,
+in the reign of Saint Louis, it was completed. (I say
+completed, but as a matter of fact it is not completed
+even yet, for each of the square towers was designed to
+carry a spire, and I remember seeing at the Paris
+Exhibition of 1889 a number of drawings of the cathedral
+by young architects, with these spires added. It is,
+however, very unlikely that they will ever sprout, and
+I, for one, hope not.)</p>
+
+<p>Victor Hugo is, of course, if not the first authority
+on Notre Dame, its most sympathetic poet, lover and
+eulogist; and it seems ridiculous for me to attempt
+description when every book shop in Paris has a copy
+of his rich and fantastic romance, Book III. of which
+is an interlude in the story wholly given to the glory
+of the cathedral. You may read there not only of what
+Notre Dame is, but of what it is not and should be:
+the shortcomings of architects and the vandalism of
+mobs are alike reported. Mobs! Paris is seared with
+cicatrices from the hands of her matricidal children, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span>
+Notre Dame especially so. Attempts to set her on fire
+were made not only by the revolutionaries but by
+the Communards too. These she resisted, but much of
+her statuary went during the Revolution, the assailants
+sparing the Last Judgment on the façade, but accounting
+very swiftly for a series of kings of Israel and Judah
+(who, however, have since been replaced) under the impression
+that they were monarchs of native growth and
+therefore not to be endured.</p>
+
+<p>The statue of the Virgin in the centre of the façade,
+with Adam and Eve on each side, is not, I may say, the
+true Notre Dame of Paris: She is within the church&mdash;much
+older and simpler, on a column to the right of
+the altar as we face it. She is a sweeter and more
+winning figure than that between our first parents on
+the façade.</p>
+
+<p>When I first knew Notre Dame it was, to the visitor
+from the open air, all scented darkness. And then as
+one grew accustomed to the gloom the cathedral opened
+slowly like a great flower&mdash;not so beautifully as Chartres,
+but with its own grandeur and fascination. That was
+twenty years ago. It is not the same since it has been
+scraped and lightened within. That old clinging darkness
+has gone. There are times of day now, when the
+sun spatters on the wall, when it might be almost any
+church; but towards evening in the gloom it is Notre
+Dame de Paris again, mysterious and a little sinister.
+A bright light not only chases the shade from its aisles
+and recesses but also shows up the garishness of its glass.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span>
+For the glass of France, usually bad, is here often almost
+at its worst. That glorious wheel window in the north
+transept&mdash;whose upper wall has indeed more glass than
+stone in it&mdash;could not well be more beautiful, and the
+rose window over the organ is beautiful too. But for
+the rest, the glass is either too pretty, as in the case of
+the window over the altar, so lovely in shape, or utterly
+trumpery.</p>
+
+<p>The last time I was in Notre Dame I followed a
+wedding party through the main and usually locked
+door, but although I was the first after the bride and
+her father, I was not quick enough to set foot on the
+ceremonial carpet, which a prudent verger rolled up
+literally upon their heels. It was a fortunate moment
+on which to arrive, for it meant a vista of the nave from
+the open air right up the central aisle, and that, except
+in very hot weather, is rare, and probably very rare
+indeed when the altar is fully lighted.</p>
+
+<p>The secret of Notre Dame, both within and without,
+is to be divined only by loitering in it with a mind at
+rest. To enter intent upon seeing it is useless. Outside,
+one can walk round it for ever and still be surprised by
+the splendid vagaries, humours and resource of its stone;
+while within, one can, by making oneself plastic, gradually
+but surely attain to some of the adoration that was
+felt for this sanctuary by Quasimodo himself. Let us
+sit down on one of these chairs in the gloom and meditate
+on some of the scenes which its stones have witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>While it was yet building Raymond VII., Count of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>
+Toulouse, was scourged before the principal doorway for
+heresy, on a spot where the pillory long stood. That
+was in 1229. In 1248 St. Louis, on his way to the Holy
+Land, visited Notre Dame to receive his pilgrim's staff
+and scrip from the Bishop. In 1270 the body of St.
+Louis lay in state under this roof before it was carried
+to St. Denis for burial. Henry VI. of England was
+crowned here as King of France&mdash;the first and last
+English king to receive that honour. One Sunday in
+1490, while Mass was being celebrated, a man called
+Jean l'Anglais (as we should now say, John Bull)
+snatched the Host from the priest's hand and profaned
+it: for which crime he was burnt. In 1572 Henri IV.
+(then Henri of Navarre) was married to Marguerite de
+Valois, but being a Protestant he was not allowed within
+the church, and the ceremony was therefore performed
+just outside. When, however, he entered Paris triumphantly
+as a conqueror and a Catholic in 1594, he heard
+Mass and assisted at the Te Deum in Notre Dame like
+a true Frenchman and ironist. In 1611 his funeral
+service was celebrated here.</p>
+
+<p>Some very ugly events are in store for us; let something
+pretty intervene. On February 9th, 1779 (in the
+narrative of Louise de Grandpré, to whom the study of
+Notre Dame has been a veritable passion), a large crowd
+pressed towards the cathedral; the ground was strewed
+with fresh grass and flowers and leaves; the pillars were
+decorated with many coloured banners. In the choir
+the vestments of the saints were displayed: the burning
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span>
+tapers lit up the interior with a dazzling brightness:
+the organ filled the church with joyful harmony, and
+the bells rang out with all their might. The whole
+court was present, the King himself assisting at the
+ceremony, and the galleries were full to overflowing of
+ladies of distinction in the gayest of dresses.</p>
+
+<p>Then slowly, through the door of St. Anne, entered
+a hundred young girls dressed in white, covered
+with long veils and with orange blossom on their heads.
+These were the hundred poor girls whom Louis XVI.
+had dowered in memory of the birth of Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte
+of France, afterwards Duchess of Angoulême,
+and it was his wish to assist personally at their wedding
+and to seal their marriage licences with his sword, which
+was ornamented on the handle or pommel with the
+"fleur de lys".</p>
+
+<p>Through the door of the Virgin entered at the same
+time one hundred young men, having each a sprig of
+orange blossom in his button-hole. The two rows advanced
+together with measured steps, preceded by two
+Swiss, who struck the pavement heavily with their
+halberds. They advanced as far as the chancel rails,
+where each young man gave his hand to a young girl,
+his fiancée, and marched slowly before the King, bowing
+to him and receiving a bow in return. They were then
+married by the Archbishop in person.</p>
+
+<p>A very charming incident, don't you think? Such a
+royal gift, adds Louise de Grandpré, would be very
+welcome to-day, when there are so many girls unmarried,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>
+for the want of a dot. Every rich young girl who is
+married ought to include in her corbeille de noces the
+dot of some poor girl. All women, remarks Louise de
+Grandpré, have a right to this element of love, which is
+sanctified by marriage, honoured by men and blessed
+by God. Christian marriage, says Louise de Grandpré,
+is a nursery not only of good Catholics but still more
+of good citizens. It is much to be wished, she concludes,
+that obstacles could be removed, because one deplores
+the depopulation of France.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="anne" id="anne"></a>
+<img src="images/i_060.jpg" width="502" height="650" alt="SAINTE ANNE" />
+<p class="caption">SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JÉSUS<br />
+<span class="s2">LEONARDO DA VINCI</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>The most fantastic and discreditable episode in the
+history of Notre Dame occurred one hundred and fifteen
+years ago, when the Convention decreed the Cult of
+Reason, and Notre Dame became its Temple. A ballet
+dancer was throned on the high altar, Our Lady of
+Paris was taken down, and statues of Voltaire and
+Rousseau stepped into the niches of the saints. Carlyle
+was never more wonderful than in the three or four pages
+that describe this cataclysm. He begins with the revolt
+of the Curate Parens, followed by Bishop Gobel of Paris
+clamouring for an honest calling since there was no
+religion but Liberty.</p>
+
+<p>"The French nation," Carlyle writes, "is of gregarious
+imitative nature; it needed but a fugle-motion in
+this matter; and Goose Gobel, driven by Municipality
+and force of circumstances, has given one. What Curé
+will be behind him of Boissise; what Bishop behind him
+of Paris? Bishop Grégoire, indeed, courageously declines;
+to the sound of 'We force no one; let Grégoire
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>
+consult his conscience'; but Protestant and Romish by
+the hundred volunteer and assent. From far and near,
+all through November into December, till the work is
+accomplished, come letters of renegation, come Curates
+who 'are learning to be Carpenters,' Curates with their
+new-wedded Nuns: has not the day of Reason dawned,
+very swiftly, and become noon? From sequestered
+Townships come Addresses, stating plainly, though in
+Patois dialect, that 'they will have no more to do with
+the black animal called Curay, <i>animal noir appelé Curay</i>.'</p>
+
+<p>"Above all things, there come Patriotic Gifts, of
+Church-furniture. The remnant of bells, except for
+tocsin, descend from their belfries, into the National
+melting-pot to make cannon. Censers and all sacred
+vessels are beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the
+poverty-stricken Mint; of pewter, let them become
+bullets, to shoot the 'enemies <i>du genre humain</i>'. Dalmatics
+of plush make breeches for him who had none;
+linen albs will clip into shirts for the Defenders of the
+Country: old-clothesmen, Jew or Heathen, drive the
+briskest trade. Chalier's Ass-Procession, at Lyons, was
+but a type of what went on, in those same days, in all
+Towns. In all Towns and Townships as quick as the
+guillotine may go, so quick goes the axe and the wrench:
+sacristies, lutrins, altar-rails are pulled down; the Mass-Books
+torn into cartridge-papers: men dance the Carmagnole
+all night about the bonfire. All highways
+jingle with metallic Priest-tackle, beaten broad; sent to
+the Convention, to the poverty-stricken Mint. Good
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>
+Sainte Geneviève's <i>Chasse</i> is let down: alas, to be burst
+open, this time, and burnt on the Place de Grève.
+Saint Louis's Shirt is burnt;&mdash;might not a Defender of
+the Country have had it?...</p>
+
+<p>"For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole-dance
+has hardly jigged itself out, there arrive Procureur
+Chaumette and Municipals and Departmentals,
+and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion!
+Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman
+fair to look upon, when well rouged; she, borne on
+palanquin shoulder-high; with red woollen nightcap;
+in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her
+hand the Pike of the Jupiter-<i>Peuple</i>, sails in: heralded
+by white young women girt in tricolor. Let the world
+consider it! This, O National Convention wonder of
+the universe, is our New Divinity; <i>Goddess of Reason</i>,
+worthy, and alone worthy of revering. Her henceforth
+we adore. Nay were it too much to ask of an august
+National Representation that it also went with us to
+the <i>ci-devant</i> Cathedral called of Notre-Dame, and
+executed a few strophes in worship of her?</p>
+
+<p>"President and Secretaries give Goddess Candeille,
+borne at due height round their platform, successively
+the Fraternal kiss; whereupon she, by decree, sails to
+the right-hand of the President and there alights. And
+now, after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention,
+gathering its limbs, does get under way in the
+required procession towards Notre-Dame;&mdash;Reason, again
+in her litter, sitting in the van of them, borne, as one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>
+judges, by men in the Roman costume; escorted by wind-music,
+red nightcaps, and the madness of the world....</p>
+
+<p>"'The corresponding Festival in the Church of Saint-Eustache,'
+says Mercier, 'offered the spectacle of a
+great tavern. The interior of the choir represented
+a landscape decorated with cottages and boskets of
+trees. Round the choir stood tables overloaded with
+bottles, with sausages, pork-puddings, pastries and
+other meats. The guests flowed in and out through
+all doors: whosoever presented himself took part of the
+good things: children of eight, girls as well as boys,
+put hand to plate, in sign of Liberty; they drank also
+of the bottles, and their prompt intoxication created
+laughter. Reason sat in azure mantle aloft, in a serene
+manner; Cannoneers, pipe in mouth, serving her as
+acolytes. And out of doors,' continues the exaggerative
+man, 'were mad multitudes dancing round the
+bonfire of Chapel-balustrades, of Priests' and Canons'
+stalls; and the dancers,&mdash;I exaggerate nothing,&mdash;the
+dancers nigh bare of breeches, neck and breast naked,
+stockings down, went whirling and spinning, like those
+Dust-vortexes, forerunners of Tempest and Destruction.'
+At Saint-Gervais Church, again, there was a terrible
+'smell of herrings'; Section or Municipality having
+provided no food, no condiment, but left it to chance.
+Other mysteries, seemingly of a Cabiric or even Paphian
+character, we leave under the Veil, which appropriately
+stretches itself 'along the pillars of the aisles,'&mdash;not to
+be lifted aside by the hand of History.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a name="ile" id="ile"></a>
+<img src="images/i_066.jpg" width="650" height="362" alt="THE ILE DE LA CITÉ" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="flleft s2">TOUR ST. JACQUES</span>
+<span class="center s2">CONCIERGERIE</span>
+<span class="flright s2">STE. CHAPELLE&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;NOTRE DAME</span><br />
+THE ILE DE LA CITÉ<br />
+FROM THE PONT DES ARTS</p></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>
+"But there is one thing we should like almost better
+to understand than any other: what Reason herself
+thought of it, all the while. What articulate words
+poor Mrs. Momoro, for example, uttered; when she
+had become ungoddessed again, and the Bibliopolist
+and she sat quiet at home, at supper? For he was an
+earnest man, Bookseller Momoro; and had notions of
+Agrarian Law. Mrs. Momoro, it is admitted, made
+one of the best Goddesses of Reason; though her teeth
+were a little defective.&mdash;And now if the Reader will
+represent to himself that such visible Adoration of
+Reason went on 'all over the Republic,' through these
+November and December weeks, till the Church woodwork
+was burnt out, and the business otherwise completed,
+he will perhaps feel sufficiently what an adoring
+Republic it was, and without reluctance quit this part
+of the subject."</p>
+
+<p>I quote in the following pages freely from Carlyle,
+because the Revolution is the most important event in
+the history of Paris and so horribly recent (you may
+still see the traces of Bonaparte's whiff of grape-shot
+on the façade of St. Roch), and also because when
+there is such an historian to borrow from direct, paraphrase
+becomes a crime. None the less, I feel it my
+duty to say that the attitude of this self-protective
+contemptuous superior Scotchman towards the excitable
+French and their hot-headed efforts for freedom
+often enrages me as much as his vivid narrative fascinates
+and moves.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In 1794, when the New Religion had died down, the
+Church became a store for wine confiscated from the
+Royalists. In the year following, after the whiff of
+grape-shot, the old religion was re-established. A
+strange interregnum! How long ago was this?&mdash;only
+one hundred and fifteen years&mdash;not four generations.
+Could it happen again? Will it?...</p>
+
+<p>These revolutionaries, it may be remarked, were not
+the only licentious rioters that Notre Dame had known,
+for in its early days it was the scene every year of the
+Fête des Fous, an orgy of gluttony and conviviality, in
+which, however, one who was a true believer on all other
+days might partake.</p>
+
+<p>After these lurid saturnalia it is pleasant again to dip
+into the gentle pages of Louise de Grandpré, where,
+among other legends of Notre Dame, is the pretty story
+of a statue of the Virgin&mdash;now known as the Virgin with
+the bird. In the Rue Chanoinesse there lived a young
+woman, very devout, who came every day to pray.
+She brought with her her son, a little fellow, very
+wide-awake and full of spirits: his mother had
+taught him to say his prayers. Cyril would close his
+little hands to say his "Ave Maria," and he would throw
+a kiss to the little Jesus, his dear friend, complaining
+sometimes to his mother that the little Jesus would not
+play with him. "You are not good enough yet," said
+his mother; "Jesus plays only with the little children
+in Paradise."</p>
+
+<p>A very severe winter fell and the young mother
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>
+fell ill and no longer came to church. Cyril never saw
+the little Jesus now, but he often thought of him as he
+played at the foot of his mother's bed. On one of those
+days when the sky was dull and leaden and the air
+heavy and depressing, and the poor woman was rather
+worse and more hopeless than usual, she became so weak
+they thought each moment would be her last.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril could not understand why his mother no longer
+smiled at him or stroked his hair or called him to her.
+With his little heart almost bursting and his eyes full
+of tears, he said, "I will go and tell the little Jesus of
+my trouble."</p>
+
+<p>While they were attending to the poor mother the
+child disappeared. He ran as fast as his little legs
+would carry him and entered the cathedral by the
+cloister door, crossed the transept, and was soon at the
+foot of the statue of the Virgin Mary, where he was
+accustomed to say his prayers with his mother. "Little
+Jesus," said he, "Thou art very happy, Thou hast Thy
+Mother; mine, who was so good, is always asleep now
+and I am alone. Little Jesus, wake my mother up, and
+I will give you my best toys, morning and evening I
+will send you the sweetest kiss and say my best prayer.
+And look, to begin with, I have brought you my
+favourite bird: he is tame and will eat the golden
+crumbs of Paradise out of your hand." At the same
+time he stretched out his little closed hand towards
+Jesus.</p>
+
+<p>The divine child stretched out His hand and Cyril let
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>
+his beloved little bird escape. The bird, who had a
+lovely coloured plumage, flew straight to the hand of
+the Infant Christ and has remained there to this day.
+The Virgin smiled on the child, and her white stone
+robe at that moment became the same colour as the
+bird's plumage.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril, with his heart very full, got up to go out, but
+before leaving the church turned round to have one
+more look at his little bird he loved so dearly: he was
+struck with delight and astonishment when he heard
+the favoured bird singing one of its sweetest songs in
+honour of the Virgin and her Child.</p>
+
+<p>When Cyril returned to his home he went into his
+mother's room without making the least noise to see if
+she was still asleep. The young mother was sitting upright
+in her bed, her head, still very bad, resting on a
+pillow, but her wide-open eyes were looking for her
+little one.</p>
+
+<p>"I was quite sure the little Jesus would wake you
+up," said Cyril, climbing on to her bed. "I took Him
+my bird this morning to take care of for me in the
+Garden of Paradise."</p>
+
+<p>Life once more returned to the poor woman and she
+kissed her boy.</p>
+
+<p>When you next go to Notre Dame, Louise de
+Grandpré adds, be sure to visit the Vierge à l'oiseau,
+who always hears the prayers of the little ones.</p>
+
+<p>It was in 1804 that Notre Dame enjoyed one of
+its most magnificent moments&mdash;at the coronation of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>
+Napoleon and Josephine Beauharnais. The Duchess
+d'Abrantès wrote an account of the ceremony which, in
+French, is both picturesque and rapturous. "The pope
+was the first to arrive. At the moment of his entering
+the cathedral, the clergy intoned Tu es Petrus, and
+this solemn chant made a deep impression on all. Pius
+the VII. advanced to the end of the cathedral with a
+majestic yet humble grace.... The moment when all
+eyes were most drawn to the Altar steps was when
+Josephine received the crown from the Emperor and
+was solemnly consecrated by him Empress of the French.
+When it was time for her to take an active part in the
+great ceremony, the Empress descended from the throne
+and advanced towards the altar, where the Emperor
+awaited her....</p>
+
+<p>"I saw," the Duchess continues, "all that I have just
+told you, with the eyes of Napoleon. He was radiant
+with joy as he watched the Empress advancing towards
+him; and when she knelt ... and the tears she could
+not restrain fell upon her clasped hands, raised more towards
+him than towards God: at this moment, when
+Napoleon, or rather Bonaparte, was for her her true
+providence, at this instant there was between these two
+beings one of those fleeting moments of life, unique,
+which fill up the void of years.</p>
+
+<p>"The Emperor invested with perfect grace every
+action of the ceremony he had to perform: above all,
+at the moment of crowning the Empress. This was to
+be done by the Emperor himself, who after receiving
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>
+the little closed crown surmounted by a cross, had to
+place it on his own head first, and then place it on the
+Empress's head. He did this in such a slow, gracious
+and courtly manner that it was noticed by all. But at
+the supreme moment of crowning her who was to him
+his lucky star, he was almost coquettish, if I may use
+the term. He placed the little crown, which surmounted
+the diadem of brilliants, on her head, first putting it on,
+then taking it off and putting it on again, as if assuring
+himself that it should rest lightly and softly on her.</p>
+
+<p>"But Napoleon," the Duchess concludes, "when it
+came to his own crown, hastily took it from the Pope's
+hands and placed it haughtily on his own head&mdash;a proceeding
+which doubtless startled his Holiness."</p>
+
+<p>Ten years pass and we find Louis XVIII. and his
+family attending Mass at the same altar. Twenty-six
+years later, in 1840, a service was held to commemorate
+the restoration of the ashes of the Emperor to French
+soil, and in 1853 Napoleon III. and Eugénie de Montijo
+were married here, under circumstances of extraordinary
+splendour. And then we come to plunder and lawlessness
+again. On Good Friday, 1871, while Père Olivier
+was preaching, a company of Communards entered and
+from thenceforward for a while the cathedral was occupied
+by the soldiers. For some labyrinthine reason
+the destruction of Notre Dame by fire was decided upon,
+and a huge pile of chairs and other material soaked in
+petrol was erected (this was only thirty-eight years ago),
+and no doubt the building would have been seriously
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>
+injured, if not destroyed, had not the medical students
+from the Hôtel Dieu, close by, rushed in and saved it.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="pensee" id="pensee"></a>
+<img src="images/i_074.jpg" width="447" height="650" alt="LA PENSÉE" />
+<p class="caption">LA PENSÉE<br />
+<span class="s2">RODIN</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Luxembourg)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Among the preachers of Notre Dame was St. Dominic,
+to whom in the pulpit the Virgin appeared, bringing
+with her his sermon all to his hand in an effulgent
+volume; here also preached Père Hyacinthe, but with
+less direct assistance.</p>
+
+<p>That the Treasury is an object of interest to English-speaking
+visitors is proved by the notice at the door:
+"The Persons who desire to visit the Trésor are kindly
+requested to wait the guide here for a few minutes,
+himself charged of the visit"; but I see no good reason
+why any one should enter it. Those, however, that do
+will see vessels of gold, much paraphernalia of ecclesiastical
+pride and pomp, and certain holy relics. The
+crown of thorns is here, given to St. Louis by the King
+of Constantinople and carried to Notre Dame, on the
+18th of August, 1239, by the barefoot king. Here
+also are pieces of the Cross, for the protection of which
+St. Louis built Sainte Chapelle, the relics afterwards
+being transferred to Notre Dame; and here is a nail
+from the Cross&mdash;one of the nails of which even an
+otherwise sceptical Catholic can be sure, because it was
+given to Charlemagne by Constantine. Charlemagne
+gave it to Aix la Chapelle, Charles the Bold brought
+it from Aix to St. Denis, and from St. Denis it came
+to Notre Dame, where it is enclosed in a crystal case.</p>
+
+<p>The menace of 397 spiral steps in a narrow, dark and
+almost airless turret, is no light matter, but it is essential
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>
+to see Paris from the summit of Notre Dame. That
+view is the key to the city, and the traveller who means
+to study this city as it deserves, penetrating into the
+past as industriously and joyously as into the present,
+must begin here. He will see it all beneath him and
+around him in its varying ages, and he will be able to
+proceed methodically and intelligently. Immediately
+below is the Parvis, the scene of the interrupted execution
+of Esmeralda, and it was from one of the galleries
+below that Quasimodo slung himself down to her rescue.
+Here, where we are now standing, she must often have
+stood, looking for her faithless Ph&oelig;bus. Only one of
+the bells that Quasimodo rang is still in the tower.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo draws attention to the shape of the island, like
+that of a ship moored to the mainland by various
+bridges, and he suggests that the ship on the Paris
+scutcheon (the ship that is to be seen in the design of
+the lamps around the Opera) is derived from this resemblance.
+It may be so. On each side of us, north
+and south, are the oldest parts of Paris that still stand;
+in the north the Marais, behind the Tour Saint-Jacques,
+and in the south the district between the Rue de Bièvre
+and the Boulevard St. Michel. On the south side of
+the river lived the students, clerics and professors&mdash;Dante
+himself among them, in this very Rue de Bièvre, as
+we shall see; while in the Marais, as we shall also see,
+dwelt the nobility. West of St. Eustache in the Middle
+Ages was nothing but waste ground and woodland, a
+kind of Bois, at the edge of which, where the Louvre
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span>
+now spreads itself, was a royal hunting lodge, the germ
+of the present vast palace.</p>
+
+<p>When the Marais passed out of favour, the aristocracy
+crossed the river to the St. Germain quarter, which
+clusters around the twin spires of St. Clotilde that now
+rise in the south-west. And then the Rue Saint-Honoré
+and the Grands Boulevards were built, and so the city
+grew and changed until the two culminating touches
+were put to it: by M. Eiffel, who built the tower,
+and M. Abadie, architect of the beautiful and unreal
+Basilique du Sacré-Coeur that crowns the heights of
+Montmartre.</p>
+
+<p>The chief eminences that one sees are, near at hand,
+the needle-spire of Sainte Chapelle, in the north the
+grey mass of St. Eustache, the Châtelet Theatre (advertising
+at this moment "Les Pilules du Diable" in
+enormous letters), the long roofs of the Halles, and the
+outline of the medieval Tour Saint-Jacques. Farther
+west the bulky Opera; then, right in front, the Trocadéro's
+twin towers, with Mont Valérien looming up
+immediately between them; and so round to the south&mdash;to
+the Invalides and St. Clotilde, the Panthéon and
+the heights of Geneviève.  A wonderful panorama.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the views of Paris I think that from Notre
+Dame is the most interesting, because the point is most
+central; but the views from Montmartre, from the
+Tour Saint-Jacques, the Panthéon and the Arc de
+Triomphe should be studied too. The Eiffel Tower has
+dwarfed all those eminences; they lie far below it, mere
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span>
+ant-hills in the landscape, although they seem high
+enough when one essays their steps; yet, although it
+makes them so lowly, these older coigns of vantage
+should not for a moment be considered as superseded,
+for each does for its immediate vicinage what the
+Eiffel giant can never do. From the Arc de Triomphe,
+for example, you command all the luxurious activity
+of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne and the wonderful
+prospect of the Champs Elysées, ending with the Louvre;
+and from the Panthéon you may examine the roofs of
+the Latin Quarter and see the children at play in the
+gardens of the Luxembourg.</p>
+
+<p>The merit of the Eiffel Tower is that he shows you
+not only Paris to the ultimate edges in every direction
+save on the northern slopes of Montmartre, but he shows
+you (almost) France too. How long the Eiffel Tower
+is to stand I cannot say, but I for one shall feel sorry
+and bereft when he ceases to straddle over Paris. For
+though he is vulgar he is great, and he has come to be
+a symbol. When he goes, he will make a strange rent
+in the sky. This year (1909) is his twentieth: he and
+I first came to Paris at the same time; but his life is
+serene to-day compared with what it was in his infancy.
+At that time his platforms were congested from morn
+to dusk; but few visitors now ascend even to the first
+stage and hardly any to the top. No visitor, however,
+who wants to synthesise Paris should omit this adventure.
+Only in a balloon can one get a better view, but
+in no balloon adrift from this green earth would I, for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span>
+one, ever trust myself, although I must confess that the
+procession of those aerial monsters that floated serenely
+past the Eiffel Tower on the last occasion that I climbed
+it, suggested nothing but content and security. They
+rose one by one from the bosky depths of the Bois,
+five miles away, gradually disentangled themselves from
+the surrounding verdure, assumed their independent
+buoyant rotundity and came straight to my waiting
+eye. In an hour I counted fifteen, and by the
+time the last was free of the earth the first was
+away over Vincennes, with the afternoon sun turning
+its mud-coloured silk to burnished gold. Paris has
+always one balloon floating above her, but fifteen is
+exceptional.</p>
+
+<p>Notre Dame remains, however, the most important
+height to scale, for Notre Dame is interesting in every
+particular, it is soaked in history and mystery. Notre
+Dame is alone in the possession of its devils&mdash;those
+strange stone fantasies that Méryon discovered. Although
+every effort is made to familiarise us with them&mdash;although
+they sit docilely as paper-weights on our
+tables&mdash;nothing can lessen the monstrous diablerie
+of these figures, which look down on Paris with such
+greed and cruelty, cunning and cynicism. The best
+known, the most saturnine, of all, who leans on the
+parapet exactly by the door at the head of the steps,
+fixes his inhuman gaze on the dome of the Invalides.
+Is it to be wondered at that he wears that expression?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A small family dwells in a room just behind this
+chimera, subsisting by the sale of picture-postcards. It
+is a strange abode, and an imaginative child would have
+a good start in life there. To him at any rate the
+demons no doubt would soon lose their terrors and
+become as friendly as the heavenly host that are posed
+so radiantly and confidently on the ascent to the flèche&mdash;perhaps
+even more so. But to the stranger they
+must remain cruel and horrible, creating a sense of
+disquietude and alarm that it is surely the business of
+a cathedral to allay. Curious anomaly! Let us descend.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving the Ile de la Cité, the Rue Chanoinesse,
+to the north of Notre Dame, leading out of the Rue
+d'Arcole (near a blackguard pottery shop), should be
+looked at. The cloisters of Notre Dame once extended
+to this street and covered the ground between it and the
+cathedral. The canons, or chanoines, lived here, and
+there are still a few attractive old houses; but the
+rebuilder is very busy just now. At No. 10, Fulbert,
+the uncle of Héloïse, is said to have lived; at No. 18
+was the Tour Dagobert, a fifteenth-century building,
+by climbing which one had an excellent view of Notre
+Dame, but in the past year it has been demolished and
+business premises cover its site. At No. 26 are (or
+were) the ruins of the twelfth-century chapel of St.
+Aignan, where the faithful, evicted from Notre Dame
+by the Reign of Reason, celebrated Mass in secret.
+Saint Bernard has preached here. The adjacent streets&mdash;the
+Rue de Colombe, Rue Massillon, Rue des Ursins
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>
+and Rue du Cloître-Notre-Dame&mdash;have also very old
+houses.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="balthasar" id="balthasar"></a>
+<img src="images/i_082.jpg" width="504" height="650" alt="BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE" />
+<p class="caption">BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE<br />
+<span class="s2">RAPHAEL</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>For the best view of the exterior of Notre Dame one
+must take the Quai de l'Archevêché, from which all
+its intricacies of masonry may be studied&mdash;its buttresses
+solid and flying, its dependences, its massive bulk, its
+grace and strength.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_iv" id="chapter_iv"></a>CHAPTER IV<br />
+ST. LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Morgue&mdash;The Ile St. Louis&mdash;Old Residents&mdash;St. Louis, the
+King&mdash;The Golden Legend&mdash;Religious Intolerance&mdash;Posthumous
+Miracles&mdash;Statue of Barye&mdash;The Quai des Célestins.
+</p>
+
+<p>On the way from Notre Dame to the Ile St. Louis
+we pass a small official-looking building at the
+extreme east end of the Ile de la Cité. It is the
+Morgue.</p>
+
+<p>But the Morgue is now closed to idle gazers, and you
+win your way to a sight of that melancholy slab with
+the weary bodies on it and the little jet of water playing
+on each, only by the extreme course of having missed
+a relation whom you suspected of designs upon his own
+life or whom you imagine has been the victim of foul
+play. No doubt the authorities were well advised (as
+French municipal authorities nearly always are) in closing
+the Morgue; but I think I regret it. The impulse
+to drift into that low and sinister building behind Notre
+Dame was partly morbid, no doubt; but the ordinary
+man sees not only too little death, but is too seldom in
+the presence of such failure as for the most part governs
+here: so that the opportunity it gave was good.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I still recall very vividly, in spite of all the millions
+of living faces that should, one feels, have blurred one's
+prosperous vision, several of the dead faces that lay behind
+the glass of this forlorn side-show of the great
+entertainment which we call Paris. An old man with a
+white imperial; more than one woman of that dreadful
+middle-age which the Seine has so often terminated; a
+young man who had been stabbed.... Well, the
+Morgue is closed to the public now, and very likely no
+one who reads this book will ever enter it.</p>
+
+<p>The Ile St. Louis, to put it bluntly, is just as commonplace
+as the Ile de la Cité is imposing. It has a monotony
+very rare in the older parts of Paris: it is all white
+houses that have become dingy: houses that once were
+attractive and wealthy and are now squalid. One of the
+largest of the old palaces is to-day a garage; there is
+not a single house now occupied by the kind of tenant
+for which it was intended. Such declensions are always
+rather melancholy, even when&mdash;as, for example, at Villeneuve,
+near Avignon&mdash;there is the beauty of decay too.
+But on the Ile St. Louis there is no beauty: it belongs
+to a dull period of architecture and is now duller for its
+dirt. Standing on the Quai d'Orléans, however, one
+catches Notre Dame against the evening sky, across the
+river, as nowhere else, and it is necessary to seek the Ile
+if only to appreciate the fitness of the Morgue's position.</p>
+
+<p>The island was first called L'Ile Notre Dame, and was
+uninhabited until 1614. It was then developed and
+joined to the Ile de la Cité and the mainland by bridges.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span>
+The chief street is the Rue St. Louis, at No. 3 in which
+lived Fénélon. The church of St. Louis is interesting
+for a relic of the unfortunate Louise de la Vallière. At
+No. 17 on the Quai d'Anjou is the Hôtel Lauzun, which
+the city of Paris has now acquired, and in which once
+lived together for a while the authors of <i>Mademoiselle de
+Maupin</i> and <i>Les Fleurs de Mal</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Of Saint Louis, or Louis IX., who gives his name to
+this island, and whose hand is so visible in the Ile de la
+Cité, it is right to know something, for he was the father
+of Paris. Louis was born in 1215, the year of Magna
+Charta, and succeeded to the throne while still a boy.
+The early years of his reign were restless by reason of
+civil strife and war with England, in which he was victor
+(at Tailleburg, at Saintes and at Blaize), and then came
+his departure for the Holy Land, with 40,000 men, in
+fulfilment of a vow made rashly on a sick-bed. The
+King was blessed at Notre Dame, as we have seen, and
+departed in 1248, leaving his mother Blanche de Castile
+as regent. But the Crusade was a failure, and he was
+glad to return (with only the ghost of his army) and to
+settle down for the first time seriously to the cares of
+his throne.</p>
+
+<p>He was a good if prejudiced king: he built wisely
+and well, not only Sainte Chapelle, as we have seen, but
+the Sorbonne; he devised useful statutes; he established
+police in Paris; and, more perhaps than all, he made
+Frenchmen very proud of France. So much for his administrative
+virtues. When we come to his saintliness
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>
+I would stand aside, for is he not in <i>The Golden Legend</i>?
+Listen to William Caxton: "He forced himself to
+serve his spirit by diverse castigation or chastising, he
+used the hair many times next his flesh, and when he
+left it for cause of over feebleness of his body, at the
+instance of his own confessor, he ordained the said confessor
+to give to the poor folk, as for recompensation of
+every day that he failed of it, forty shillings. He fasted
+always the Friday, and namely in time of lent and advent
+he abstained him in those days from all manner of
+fish and from fruits, and continually travailed and pained
+his body by watchings, orisons, and other secret abstinences
+and disciplines. Humility, beauty of all virtues,
+replenished so strong in him, that the more better he
+waxed, so, as David, the more he showed himself meek
+and humble, and more foul he reputed him before God.</p>
+
+<p>"For he was accustomed on every Saturday to wash
+with his own hands, in a secret place, the feet of some
+poor folk, and after dried them with a fair towel, and
+kissed much humbly and semblably their hands, distributing
+or dealing to every one of them a certain sum of
+silver, also to seven score poor men which daily came to
+his court, he administered meat and drink with his own
+hands, and were fed abundantly on the vigils solemn.
+And on some certain days in the year to two hundred
+poor, before that he ate or drank, he with his own hands
+administered and served them both of meat and drink.
+He ever had, both at his dinner and supper, three ancient
+poor, which ate nigh to him, to whom he charitably
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span>
+sent of such meats as were brought before him, and
+sometimes the dishes and meats that the poor of our
+Lord had touched with their hands, and special the sops
+of which he fain ate, made their remnant or relief to be
+brought before him, to the end that he should eat it;
+and yet again to honour and worship the name of our
+Lord on the poor folk, he was not ashamed to eat their
+relief."</p>
+
+<p>Qualities have their defects, and such a frame of mind
+as that can lead, for all the good motive, to injustice
+and even cruelty. Christ's lesson of the Roman coin
+is forgotten as quickly as any. Louis' passion for
+holiness, which became a kind of self-indulgence, led
+him into a hard and ugly intolerance and acts of severe
+oppression against those whom he styled heretics. His
+short way with the Jews recalled indeed those of our
+own King John, who was very nearly his contemporary.
+I know not if he pulled out their teeth, but he once
+did what must have been as bad, if not worse, for he
+published an ordinance "for the good of his soul," remitting
+to his Christian subjects the third of their
+debts to the Jews; and he also expressed it as his
+opinion that "a layman ought not to dispute with an
+unbeliever, but strike him with a good sword across the
+body," the most practical expression of muscular sectarianism
+that I know. Louis' religious fanaticism was,
+however, his end; for he was so ill-advised as to undertake
+a new Crusade against the unbelievers of Morocco,
+and there, while laying siege to Tunis, he died of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>
+plague. That was in 1270, when he was only fifty-five.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a name="notre" id="notre"></a>
+<img src="images/i_090.jpg" width="650" height="509" alt="NOTRE DAME" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="fl20 s2">STE. CHAPELLE</span><br />
+NOTRE DAME: SOUTH FAÇADE<br />
+<span class="s2">(FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Twenty-seven years later Pope Boniface the Eighth
+raised him to the Calendar of Saints, his day being
+August 25th. But according to <i>The Golden Legend</i>,
+which I for one implicitly believe (how can one help it,
+written as it is?), the posthumous miracles of Louis did
+not wait for Rome. They began at once. "On that
+day that S. Louis was buried," we there read, "a woman
+of the diocese of Sens recovered her sight, which she had
+lost and saw nothing, by the merits and prayers of the
+said debonair and meedful king. Not long after, a young
+child of Burgundy both dumb and deaf of kind, coming
+with others to the sepulchre or grave of the saint,
+beseeching him of help, kneeling as he saw that the
+others did, and after a little while that he thus kneeled
+were his ears opened and heard, and his tongue redressed
+and spake well. In the same year a woman blind was
+led to the said sepulchre, and by the merits of the saint
+recovered her sight. Also that same year two men and
+five women, beseeching S. Louis of help, recovered the
+use of going, which they had lost by divers sickness and
+languors.</p>
+
+<p>"In the year that S. Louis was put or written in the
+catalogue of the holy confessors, many miracles worthy
+to be prized befell in divers parts of the world at the
+invocation of him, by his merits and by his prayers.
+Another time at Evreux a child fell under the wheel of
+a water-mill. Great multitude of people came thither,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>
+and supposing to have kept him from drowning, invoked
+God, our Lady and his saints to help the said child, but
+our Lord willing his saint to be enhanced among so
+great multitude of people, was there heard a voice saying
+that the said child, named John, should be vowed
+unto S. Louis. He then, taken out of the water, was
+by his mother borne to the grave of the saint, and after
+her prayer done to S. Louis, her son began to sigh and
+was raised on life."</p>
+
+<p>We leave the island by the Pont Sully, first looking
+at the statue of Barye, the sculptor of Barbizon, many
+of whose best small bronzes are in the Louvre (to say
+nothing of the shops of the dealers in the Rue Laffitte)
+and several of his large groups in the public gardens of
+Paris, one, for example, being near the Orangery in the
+Tuileries. Barye's monument standing here at the east
+end of the Ile St. Louis balances Henri IV. at the west
+end of the Ile de la Cité.</p>
+
+<p>Crossing to the mainland we ought to look at the
+old houses on the Quai des Célestins, particularly the
+old Hôtel de la Valette, now the Collège Massillon, into
+whose courtyard one should boldly peep. At No. 32
+we touch very interesting history, for here stood, two
+and a half centuries ago, Molière's Illustre Théâtre,
+the stage entrance to which may be seen at 15 Rue de
+l'Ave Marie.</p>
+
+<p>And now for the Marais.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_v" id="chapter_v"></a>CHAPTER V<br />
+THE MARAIS</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A £32,000,000 Rebuilding Scheme&mdash;Romance and Intrigue&mdash;The
+Temple&mdash;The Archives&mdash;Illustrious Handwriting&mdash;The "Uncle"
+of Paris&mdash;The Wall of Philip Augustus&mdash;Old Palaces now
+Rookeries&mdash;The Carnavalet&mdash;The Perfect Museum&mdash;Latude&mdash;Napoleon&mdash;Madame
+de Sévigné&mdash;Chained Streets&mdash;John Law&mdash;The
+Rue St. Martin.
+</p>
+
+<p>The Marais is that district of old streets and palaces
+which is bounded on the south by the Rue
+St. Antoine, on the east by the Rue du Turenne, on
+the west by the Rue du Temple, and fades away in the
+north somewhere below the Rue de Bretagne. The
+Rue des Francs Bourgeois is its central highway east
+and west.</p>
+
+<p>It was my original intention to devote a large proportion
+of this book to this fascinating area&mdash;to describe
+it minutely street by street&mdash;and I have notes for that
+purpose which would fill half the volume alone. But
+the publication of the £32,000,000 scheme for renovating
+this and other of the older parts of Paris (one of
+the principal points in which is the isolation of the
+Musée Carnavalet, which is the heart of the Marais),
+coming just at that time, acted like a douche of iced
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span>
+water, and I abandoned the project. Instead therefore
+I merely say enough (I hope) to impress on every reader
+the desirability, the necessity, of hastening to the Rue
+des Francs Bourgeois and its dependencies, and refer
+them to the two French writers whom I have found
+most useful in my own researches&mdash;the Marquis de
+Rochegude, author of a <i>Guide Pratique à travers le
+Vieux Paris</i> (Hachette) and the Vicomte de Villebresme,
+author of <i>Ce que reste du Vieux Paris</i> (Flammarion).
+To these I would add M. Georges Cain, the director of
+the Carnavalet, to whom I refer later.</p>
+
+<p>No matter where one enters the Marais, it offers the
+same alluring prospect of narrow streets and high and
+ancient houses, once the abode of the nobility and
+aristocracy, but now rookeries and factories&mdash;and, over
+all, that sense of thorough insanitation which so often
+accompanies architectural charm in France and Italy,
+and which seems to matter so little to Latin people.
+Hence the additional wickedness of destroying this
+district. The Municipality, however, having acquired
+superfine foreign notions as to public health, will doubtless
+have its way.</p>
+
+<p>Wherever one enters the Marais one finds the traces
+of splendour, intrigue and romance; howsoever modern
+conditions may have robbed them of their glory, to walk
+in these streets is, for any one with any imagination, to
+recreate Dumas. For the most part one must make
+one's own researches, but here and there a tablet may
+be found, such as that over the entrance to a narrow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span>
+and sinister passage at No. 38 Rue des Francs Bourgeois,
+which reads thus: "Dans ce passage en sortant de
+l'hôtel Barbette le Duc Louis d'Orléans frère du Roi
+Charles VI. fut assassiné par Jean Sans Peur, Duc de
+Bourgogne, dans la nuit du 23 ou 24 Novembre, 1407".
+Five hundred years ago! That gives an idea of the
+antiseptic properties of the air of Paris. The Duke of
+Orléans, I might remark here, was symmetrically avenged,
+for his son assassinated Jean Sans Peur on the bridge
+of Montereau all in due course.</p>
+
+<p>The Marais was at its prime from the middle of the
+fifteenth century to the beginning of the eighteenth;
+at which period the Faubourg St. Antoine was abandoned
+by fashion for the Faubourg St. Germain, as we shall
+see when the time comes to wander in the Rue de
+Varenne and the Rue de Grenelle on the other side of
+the river.</p>
+
+<p>Let us enter the Marais by the Rue du Temple at
+the Square du Temple, a little south of the Place de la
+République. One must make a beginning somewhere.
+The Temple, which has now disappeared, was the head-quarters
+of the Knight Templars of France before their
+suppression in 1307: it then became the property of
+the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, who held it until
+the Revolution, when all property seems to have changed
+hands. Rousseau found sanctuary here in 1765; and
+here Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were imprisoned
+for a while in 1792. More tragic by far, it was here
+that the little Dauphin died. Napoleon pulled down
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>
+the Tower: Louis XVIII. on his accession awarded the
+property to the Princesse de Condé, and Louis-Philippe,
+on his, took it back again.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue du Temple has many interesting old houses
+and associations. Just north of the Square is the
+church of Elizabeth of Hungary, the first stone of
+which was laid in 1628 by a less sainted monarch,
+Marie de Médicis. It is worth entering to see its
+carved wood scenes from Scripture history. At 193
+once lived Madame du Barry; at 153 was, in the reign
+of Louis XV., the barreau des vinaigrettes&mdash;the vinaigrette
+being the forerunner of the cab, a kind of sedan
+chair and jinrickshaw; at 62 died Anne de Montmorency,
+Constable of France, in the Hôtel de Montmorency.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="homme" id="homme"></a>
+<img src="images/i_098.jpg" width="510" height="650" alt="L&#39;HOMME AU GANT" />
+<p class="caption">L&#39;HOMME AU GANT<br />
+<span class="s2">TITIAN</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>From the Square du Temple we may also walk down
+the Rue des Archives, parallel with the Rue du Temple
+on the east. This street now extends to the Rue de
+Rivoli. It is rich in old palaces, some with very beautiful
+relics of their grandeur still in existence, such as the
+staircase at No. 78. The fountain at the corner of the
+Rue des Haudriettes dates only from 1705. At No.
+58 is the gateway, restored, of the old palace of the
+Constable de Clisson, built in 1371. Later it belonged
+to the Guise family and then to the Soubise. The
+Revolution made it the property of the State, and
+Napoleon directed that the Archives should be preserved
+here. The entrance is in the Rue des Francs
+Bourgeois, across the green court; but do not go on a
+cold day, because there is no heating process, owing to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span>
+the age of the building and the extraordinary value of
+the collections. The rooms in themselves are of some
+interest for their Louis XV. decoration and mural
+paintings, but one goes of course primarily to see the
+handwriting of the great. Here is the Edict of Nantes
+signed by Henri IV.; a quittance signed by Diana
+de Poictiers, very boldly; a letter to Parliament from
+Louis XI., in his atrocious hand; a codicil added by
+Saint Louis to his will on board a vessel on the coast
+of Sardinia, exquisitely written. The scriveners have
+rather gone off than improved since those days; look at
+the "Registre des enquêteurs royaux en Normandie,"
+1248, for a work of delicate minuteness. Marie
+Thérèse, wife of Louis XIV., wrote an attractive hand,
+but Louis XIV.'s own signature is dull. Voltaire is
+discovered to have written very like Swinburne.</p>
+
+<p>Relics of the Revolution abound. Here is Marie
+Antoinette's last letter to the Princess Elizabeth,
+written the night before she was executed; a letter
+of Pétion, bidding his wife farewell, and of Barbaroux
+to his mother, both stained with tears. Here also is
+the journal of Louis XVI., 1766-1792, and the order
+for his inhumation (as Louis Capet), 21st January, 1793.
+His will is here too; and so is Napoleon's. I say no
+more because the collection is so vast, and also because
+a franc buys a most admirable catalogue, with facsimiles,
+beginning with the monogram of Charlemagne
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the Archives we may take an easterly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>
+course along the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, with the
+idea of making eventually for the Carnavalet; but it is
+well to loiter, for this is the very heart of the Marais.
+One's feet will always be straying down byways that
+call for closer notice, and it is very likely that the
+Carnavalet will not be reached till to-morrow after all.
+Indeed, let "Hasta mañana" be your Marais motto.</p>
+
+<p>One of the first buildings that one notices is the
+Mont de Piété, the chief of the Paris pawnbroking
+establishments. I am told that the system is an admirable
+one; but my own experience is against this
+opinion, for I was unable on a day of unexpected stress
+at the end of 1907 to effect an entrance at the very
+reasonable hour of a quarter past five. The closing of
+the English pawnbrokers at seven&mdash;the very moment
+at which the ordinary man's financial troubles begin&mdash;is
+sufficiently uncivilised; but to cease to lend money
+on excellent gold watches at five o'clock in the afternoon
+(with the bank closed on the morrow, too, being
+New Year's Day) is a scandal. My adventures in search
+of relief among French tradesmen who had been at my
+feet as recently as yesterday, before supplies had broken
+down, I shall never forget, nor shall I relate them here.
+This aims at being an agreeable book.</p>
+
+<p>It is interesting to note that one of the entrances to
+the Mont de Piété is reserved for clients who wish to
+raise money on deeds, and I have seen cabmen very busy
+in bringing to it people who quite shamelessly hold their
+papers in their hands. And why on earth not? And
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>
+yet your English pawner seldom reaches the Three
+Brass Balls with such publicity or by any other medium
+than his poor feet. Our Mont de Piété for the respectable
+is the solicitor's office. A trace of the wall, and one
+of its towers, built around Paris by Philip Augustus
+in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, may be seen in
+the courtyard of the Mont de Piété; but the wall is
+better observed in the Rue des Guillemites, at No. 14.</p>
+
+<p>All about here once stood a large convent of the
+Blancs-Manteaux, or Servants of the Virgin Mary,
+an order which came into being in Florence in the
+thirteenth century and of whom the doctor Benazzi
+was the general. After the Blancs-Manteaux came
+the Hermits of St. Guillaume, or Guillemites, and
+later the Benedictines took it over. Next the Mont de
+Piété at the back is the church of the Blancs-Manteaux
+in its modern form. It is plain and unattractive, but
+it wears an air of some purpose, and one feels that it
+is much used in this very popular and not too happy
+quarter. Just opposite, in a doorway, I watched an
+old chiffonnière playing with a grey rabbit. Every inch
+of this neighbourhood offers priceless material to the
+hand of Mr. Muirhead Bone.</p>
+
+<p>One of the old tavern signs of Paris is to be seen
+close by, at the corner of the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux
+and the Rue des Archives: a soldier standing by a
+cannon, representing l'homme armé. It is a comfortable
+little retreat and should be encouraged for such
+antiquarian piety.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The pretty turret at the corner of the Rue des
+Francs Bourgeois and the Rue Vieille du Temple
+marks the site of the hôtel of Jean de la Balue. Turning
+to the left up the Rue Vieille du Temple we come
+at No. 87 to a very beautiful ancient mansion, with a
+spacious courtyard, built in 1712 for the Cardinal de
+Rohan. It is now the national printing works: hence
+the statue of Gutenberg in the midst. Visitors are
+allowed to see the house itself once a week, but I have
+not done so. You will probably not be interfered with
+if you just step to the inside of the second courtyard to
+see the bas-relief of the steeds of Apollo. Nos. 102 to
+108 in the same street mark the remains of another
+fine eighteenth-century hôtel. There is also a house
+which one should see in the lower part of the street,
+on the south side of the Francs Bourgeois&mdash;No. 47,
+where by penetrating boldly one comes to a perfect
+little courtyard with some beautiful carvings in it, and,
+above, a green garden, tended, when I was there, by a
+Little Sister of the Poor. The principal courtyard has
+a very interesting bas-relief of Romulus and Remus at
+their usual meal, and also an old sundial. This palace
+was built in 1638.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, we find
+at No. 38 the little impasse already referred to, where
+the Duc d'Orléans was assassinated. At No. 30 is a
+very impressive red-brick palace with a courtyard, now
+a nest of offices and factories, once the hôtel of Jean de
+Fourcy. A bust of Henri IV. has a place there. At
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>
+No. 25 on the other side (seen better from the Rue
+Pavée) is an even more splendid abode&mdash;now also cut
+up into a rookery&mdash;the Hôtel de Lamoignon, once
+Hôtel d'Angoulême, built for Diane, Duchess of Angoulême,
+daughter of Henri II.: hence the symbols of
+the chase in the ornamentation. The hotel passed to
+President de Lamoignon in 1655.</p>
+
+<p>And here is the Carnavalet&mdash;the spacious building,
+with a garden and modern additions, on the left&mdash;once
+the Hôtel des Ligneries, afterwards the Hôtel de Kernevenoy,
+afterwards the Hôtel de Sévigné, and now the
+museum of the city of Paris. The only way to understand
+Paris is to make repeated visits to this treasure-house.
+You will find new entertainment and instruction
+every time, because every time you will carry thither
+impressions of new objects of interest whose past you
+will want to explore. For in the Carnavalet every
+phase of the life of the city, from the days of the
+Romans and the Merovingians to our own, is illustrated
+in one way or another. The pictures of streets alone
+are inexhaustible: the streets that one knows to-day
+as they were yesterday and the day before yesterday
+and hundreds of years ago; the streets one has just
+walked through on the way here, in their stages of
+evolution: such, for example, as the picture of the
+wooden Pont des Meuniers in 1380 with the Tour Saint-Jacques
+behind it; the streets with dramas of the
+Revolution in progress, such as the picture of the emblems
+of Royalty being burned before the statue of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>
+Liberty (where the Luxor column now stands) in the
+Place de la Concorde on August 10th, 1793; such as
+the picture of the famous "serment" being taken in
+the court of the Jeu de Paume on June 20th, 1789;
+such as the picture of the funeral of Marat. For the
+perfection of topographical drawing look at the series
+by F. Hoffbauer. But it is impossible and needless to
+particularise. The visitor with a topographical or
+historical bent will find himself in a paradise and will
+return and return. One visit is ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p>The catalogue, I may say, is not good, therein falling
+into line with the sculpture catalogue at the Louvre.
+Everything may be in it, but the arrangement is poor.
+In such a museum every article and every picture should
+of course have a description attached, if only for the
+benefit of the poor visitor, the humblest citizen of Paris
+whose museum it is.</p>
+
+<p>There are a few works of art here too, as well as
+topographical drawings. Georges Michel, for example,
+who looked on landscape much as Méryon looked on
+architecture and preferred a threatening sky to a sunny
+one, has a prospect from the Plaine St. Denis. Vollon
+paints the Moulin de la Galette on Montmartre as it
+was in 1865; Troyon spreads out St. Cloud. Here
+also are a charming portrait by Chardin of his second
+wife; the well-known picture of David's Life School;
+drawings by Watteau; an adorable unsigned "Marchand
+de Lingerie"; an enchanting leg on a blue
+pillow by Boucher; a portrait by Prud'hon of an
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>
+unknown man, very striking; and some exquisite work
+by Louis Boilly.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="portrait" id="portrait"></a>
+<img src="images/i_106.jpg" width="518" height="650" alt="PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME" />
+<p class="caption">PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME<br />
+<span class="s2">ATTRIBUTED TO BIGIO</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>The Musée is strong in Henri IV. and the later Louis,
+but it is of course in relics of the Revolution and
+Napoleon that the interest centres. A casquette of
+Liberty; the handle of Marat's bathroom; a portrait
+of "La Veuve Capet" in the Conciergerie, in the room
+that we have seen; a painted life-mask of Voltaire,
+very horrible, and the armchair in which he died; a
+copy of the constitution of 1793 bound in the skin
+of a man; Marat's snuff-box; Madame Roland as
+a sweet and happy child,&mdash;these I remember in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Latude is, however, the popular figure&mdash;Latude the
+prisoner of the Bastille who escaped by means of implements
+which he made secretly and which are now
+preserved here, near a portrait of the enfranchised
+gentleman, robust, portly and triumphant, pointing
+with one hand to his late prison while the other grasps
+the rope ladder. Latude's history is an odd one. He
+was born in 1725, the natural son of a poor girl: after
+accompanying the army in Languedoc as a surgeon, or
+surgeon's assistant, he reached Paris in 1748 and proceeded
+to starve. In despair he hit upon an ingenious
+trick, which wanted nothing but success to have made
+him. He prepared an infernal machine of infinitesimal
+aptitude&mdash;a contrivance of practically harmless but
+perhaps somewhat alarming explosives&mdash;and this he
+sent anonymously to the Marquise de Pompadour, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>
+then immediately after waited upon her in person at Versailles
+to say that he had overheard some men plotting
+to destroy her by means of this kind of a bomb, and he
+had come post-haste to warn her and save her life. It
+was a good story, but Latude seems to have lacked some
+necessary gifts as an impostor, for his own share was
+detected and he was thrown into the Bastille on the 1st
+of May, 1749. A few weeks later he was transferred to
+the prison at Vincennes, from which he escaped in 1750.
+A month later he was retaken and again placed in the
+Bastille, from which he escaped six years later. He got
+away to Holland, but was quickly recaptured; and
+then again he escaped, after nine more years. He was
+then treated as a lunatic and put into confinement at
+Charenton, but was discharged in 1777. His liberty,
+however, seems to have been of little use to him, and he
+rapidly qualified for gaol again by breaking into a
+house and threatening its owner, a woman, with a
+pistol, and he was imprisoned once more. Altogether
+he was under lock and key for the greater part of
+thirty-five years; but once he was free in 1784 he kept
+his head, and not only remained free but became a
+popular hero, and did not a little, by reason of a
+heightened account of his sufferings under despotic
+prison rule, to inflame the revolutionaries. These
+memoirs, by the way, in the preparation of which he
+was assisted by an advocate named Thiery, were for the
+most part untruthful, and not least so in those passages
+in which Latude described his own innocence and ideals.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span>
+Our own canonised prison-breaker, Jack Sheppard, was
+a better hero than this man.</p>
+
+<p>The little room devoted to Napoleon is filled with an
+intimate melancholy. Many personal relics are here&mdash;even
+to a toothbrush dipped in a red powder. His
+nécessaires de campagne so compactly arranged illustrate
+the minute orderliness of his mind, and the workmanship
+of the travelling cases that hold them proves once again
+his thoroughness and taste. Everything had to be
+right. One of his maps of la campagne de Prusse
+is here; others we shall see at the Invalides.</p>
+
+<p>The relics of Madame de Sévigné, who once lived in
+this beautiful house, are not very numerous; but they
+exercise their spell. Her salon is very much as she left
+it, except that the private staircase has disappeared and
+a china closet takes its place. Within these walls have
+La Rochefoucauld and Bossuet conversed; here she sat,
+pen in hand, writing her immortal letters. "Lisons
+tout Madame de Sévigné" was the advice of Sainte-Beuve,
+while her most illustrious English admirer,
+Edward FitzGerald, often quotes her. He came to her
+late, not till 1875, but she never loosened her hold. "I
+have this Summer," he wrote to Mrs. W. H. Thompson,
+"made the Acquaintance of a great Lady, with whom
+I have become perfectly intimate, through her Letters,
+Madame de Sévigné. I had hitherto kept aloof from
+her, because of that eternal Daughter of hers; but 'it's
+all Truth and Daylight,' as Kitty Clive said of Mrs.
+Siddons. Her Letters from Brittany are best of all, not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>
+those from Paris, for she loved the Country, dear
+Creature; and now I want to go and visit her 'Rochers,'
+but never shall." "I sometimes lament," he says (to
+Mrs. Cowell), "I did not know her before; but perhaps
+such an acquaintance comes in best to cheer one toward
+the end." With these pleasant praises in our ears let
+us leave the Carnavalet.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue de Sévigné itself has many interesting houses,
+notably on the south side of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois;
+No. 11, for example, was once a theatre, built by
+Beaumarchais in 1790. That is nothing; the interesting
+thing is that he built it of material from the destroyed
+Bastille and the destroyed church of St. Paul.
+The fire station close by was once the Hôtel de Perron
+de Quincy. It was in this street, on the day of the Fête
+Dieu in 1392, that the Constable de Clisson, whose house
+we saw in the Rue des Archives, was attacked by Pierre
+de Craon.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue des Francs Bourgeois is the highway of the
+Marais, and the Carnavalet is its greatest possession;
+but, as I have said, the Marais is inexhaustible in architectural
+and historical riches. We may work our way
+through it, back to the Rue du Temple by any of these
+ancient streets; all will repay. The Rue du Temple
+extends to the Rue de Rivoli, striking it just by the
+Hôtel de Ville, but the lower portion, south of the Rue
+Rambuteau, is not so interesting as the upper. There
+is, however, to the west of it, just north of the Rue de
+Rivoli, a system of old streets hardly less picturesque
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span>
+(and sometimes even more so) than the Marais proper,
+in the centre of which is the church of St. Merry, with
+one of the most wonderful west fronts anywhere&mdash;a
+mass of rich and eccentric decoration. The Saint himself
+was Abbot of Autun. He came to Paris in the
+seventh century to visit the shrines of St. Denis and St.
+Germain. At that time the district which we are now
+traversing was chiefly forest, in which the kings of
+France would hunt, leaving their palace in the Ile de la
+Cité and crossing the river to this wild district&mdash;wild
+though so near. St. Merry established himself in his
+simple way near a little chapel in the woods, dedicated
+to St. Peter, that stood on this spot, and there he died.
+After his death his tomb in the chapel performed such
+miracles that St. Peter was forgotten and St. Merry was
+exalted, and when the time came to rebuild, St. Merry
+ousted St. Peter altogether.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="etoile" id="etoile"></a>
+<img src="images/i_112.jpg" width="537" height="650" alt="THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L&#39;ETOILE" />
+<p class="caption">THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L&#39;ETOILE<br />
+<span class="s2">(APPROACHING FROM THE AVENUE DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE)</span></p>
+</div>
+<p>St. Merry's florid west front is in the Rue St. Martin,
+once the Roman road from Paris to the north and to
+England, and by the Rue St. Martin we may leave this
+district; but between it and the Rue du Temple there
+is much to see&mdash;such as, for example, the Rue Verrerie,
+south of St. Merry's, the head-quarters of the ancient
+glassworkers; the Rue Brisemiche, quite one of the best
+of the old narrow Paris streets, with iron staples and
+hooks still in the walls at Nos. 20, 23, 26 and 29, to
+which chains could be fastened so as to turn a street into
+an impasse during times of stress and thus be sure of
+your man; the Rue Taillepin, also leading out of the Rue
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>
+du Cloître St. Merry into the Rue St. Merri, which has
+some fine old houses of its own, notably No. 36 and the
+quaint Impasse du B&oelig;uf at No. 10.</p>
+
+<p>Parallel with the Rue St. Merry farther north is
+the Rue de Venise, which the Vicomte de Villebresme
+boldly calls the most picturesque in old Paris. Now a
+very low quarter, it was once literally the Lombard
+Street of Paris, the chief abode of Lombardy moneylenders,
+while the long and beautiful Rue Quincampoix,
+into which it runs on the west, was also a financial
+centre, containing no less an establishment than the
+famous Banque of John Law, the Scotchman who for
+a while early in the eighteenth century controlled French
+finance. When Law had matured his Mississippi scheme,
+he made the Rue Quincampoix his head-quarters, and
+houses in it, we read, that had been let for £40 a year
+now yielded £800 a month. In the winter of 1719-20
+Paris was filled with speculators besieging Law's offices
+for shares. But by May the crash had come and Law
+had to fly. Many a house in the Rue Quincampoix,
+which is now sufficiently innocent of high finance, dates
+from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There is a
+fine doorway at No. 34.</p>
+
+<p>We may regain the Rue St. Martin, just to the east,
+by the Rue des Lombards, which brings us to the flamboyant
+front of St. Merry's once more. The Rue St.
+Martin, which confesses its Roman origin in its straightness,
+is still busy with traffic, but neither itself nor the
+Rue St. Denis, two or three hundred yards to the west,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span>
+is one-tenth as busy as it was before the Boulevard
+Sebastopol was cut between them to do all the real work.
+It is a fine thoroughfare and no doubt of the highest
+use, but what beautiful narrow streets of old houses it
+must have destroyed! We may note in the Rue St.
+Martin the pretty fountain at No. 122, and the curious
+old house at No. 164, and leave it at the church of St.
+Nicholas-des-Champs, no longer in the fields any more
+than London's St. Martin's is.</p>
+
+<p>And now after so many houses let us see some
+pictures!</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_vi" id="chapter_vi"></a>CHAPTER VI<br />
+THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Winged Victory of Samothrace&mdash;Botticelli's Fresco&mdash;Luini&mdash;Ingres&mdash;The
+Salon Carré&mdash;La Joconde&mdash;Leonardo da Vinci&mdash;Pater,
+Lowell and Vasari&mdash;Early Collectors&mdash;Paul Veronese&mdash;Copyists&mdash;The
+Salle des Primitifs&mdash;The Grande Galerie&mdash;Landor's
+Pictorial Creed&mdash;The Great Schools&mdash;Rembrandt&mdash;Van Dyck
+and Rubens&mdash;Amazing Abundance&mdash;The Dutch Masters&mdash;The
+Drawings.</p>
+
+<p>It is on the first landing of the Escalier Daru, at the
+end of the Galerie Denon, that one of the most
+priceless treasures of the Louvre&mdash;one of the most
+splendid things in the world&mdash;is to be found: it has
+been before us all the way along the Galerie Denon,
+that avenue of noble bronzes, the first thing that caught
+the eye: I mean the "Winged Victory of Samothrace".
+Every one has seen photographs or models of this
+majestic and exquisite figure, but it must be studied
+here if one is to form a true estimate of the magical
+mastery of the sculptor. The Victory is headless and
+armless and much mutilated; but that matters little.
+She stands on the prow of a trireme, and for every one
+who sees her with any imagination must for all time be
+the symbol of triumphant and splendid onset. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>
+figure no doubt weighs more than a ton&mdash;and is as light
+as air. The "Meteor" in a strong breeze with all her
+sails set and her prow foaming through the waves does
+not convey a more exciting idea of commanding and
+buoyant progress. But that comparison wholly omits
+the element of conquest&mdash;for this is essential Victory as
+well.</p>
+
+<p>The statue dates from the fourth century <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> It
+was not discovered until 1863, in Samothrace. Paris is
+fortunate indeed to possess not only the Venus of Milo
+but this wonder of art&mdash;both in the same building.</p>
+
+<p>Before entering the picture galleries proper, let us
+look at two other exceedingly beautiful things also on
+this staircase&mdash;the two frescoes from the Villa Lemmi,
+but particularly No. 1297 on the left of the entrance
+to Gallery XVI., which represents Giovanna Tornabuoni
+and the Cardinal Virtues, and is by Sandro Filipepi, whom
+we call Botticelli. For this exquisite work alone would
+I willingly cross the Channel even in a gale, such is its
+charm. A reproduction of it will be found <a href="#giovanna">opposite
+page 20</a>, but it gives no impression of the soft delicacy
+of colouring: its gentle pinks and greens and purples,
+its kindly reds and chestnut browns. One should make
+a point of looking at these frescoes whenever one is on
+the staircase, which will be often.</p>
+
+<p>The ordinary entrance to the picture galleries of the
+Louvre is through the photographic vestibule on the
+right of the Winged Victory as you face it, leading to
+the Salle Duchâtel, notable for such differing works as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>
+frescoes by Luini and two pictures by Ingres&mdash;representing
+the beginning and end of his long and austere
+career. The Luinis are delightful&mdash;very gay and, as
+always with this tender master, sweet&mdash;especially "The
+Nativity," which is reproduced <a href="#nativity">opposite page 16</a>. The
+Ingres' (which were bequeathed by the Comtesse Duchâtel
+after whom the room is named) are the "&OElig;dipus solving
+the riddle of the Sphinx," dated 1808, when the
+painter was twenty-eight, and the "Spring," which
+some consider his masterpiece, painted in 1856. He
+lived to be eighty-six. English people have so few
+opportunities of seeing the work of this master (we have
+in oils only a little doubtful portrait of Malibran,
+very recently acquired, which hangs in the National
+Gallery) that he comes as a totally new craftsman to
+most of us; and his severity may not always please.
+But as a draughtsman he almost takes the breath
+away, and no one should miss the pencil heads, particularly
+a little saucy lady, from his hand in the His
+de la Salle collection of drawings in another part of
+the Louvre.</p>
+
+<p>In the Salle Duchâtel is also a screen of drawings
+with a very beautiful head by Botticelli in it&mdash;No. 48.
+From the rooms we then pass to the Salon Carré (so
+called because it is square, and not, as I heard one
+American explaining to another, after the celebrated
+collector Carré who had left these pictures to the nation),
+and this is, I suppose, for its size, the most valuable
+gallery in the world. It is doubtful if any other combination
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>
+of collections, each contributing of its choicest,
+could compile as remarkable a room, for the "Monna
+Lisa," or "La Joconde," Leonardo da Vinci's portrait of
+the wife of his friend Francesco del Giocondo, which is
+its greatest glory and perhaps the greatest glory of all
+Paris too, would necessarily be missing.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="winged" id="winged"></a>
+<img src="images/i_120.jpg" width="474" height="650" alt="THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE" />
+<p class="caption">THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE<br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Paris without this picture would not be the Paris
+that we know, or the Paris that has been since 1793
+when "La Joconde" first became the nation's property&mdash;ever
+more to smile her inscrutable smile and exert her
+quiet mysterious sway, not only for kings and courtiers
+but for all. When all is said, it is Leonardo who gives
+the Louvre its special distinction as a picture gallery.
+Without him it would still be magnificent: with him
+it is priceless and sublime. For not only are there the
+"Monna Lisa" and (also in the Salon Carré) the sweet
+and beautiful "Madonna and Saint Anne," but in the
+next, the Grande Galerie, are his "Virgin of the Rocks,"
+a variant of the only Leonardo in our National Gallery,
+and the "Bacchus" (so like the "John the Baptist") and
+the "John the Baptist" (so like the "Bacchus") and the
+portrait of the demure yet mischievous Italian lady who
+is supposed to be Lucrezia Crivelli, and who (in spite of
+the yellowing ravages of time) once seen is never forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>The Louvre has all these (together with many
+drawings), but above all it has the Monna Lisa, of which
+what shall I say? I feel that I can say nothing. But
+here are two descriptions of the picture, or rather two
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>
+descriptions of the emotions produced by the picture
+on two very different minds. These I may quote as
+expressing, between them, all. I will begin with that
+of Walter Pater: "As we have seen him using incidents
+of sacred story, not for their own sake, or as mere subjects
+for pictorial realisation, but as a cryptic language
+for fancies all his own, so now he found a vent for his
+thought in taking one of these languid women, and raising
+her, as Leda or Pomona, as Modesty or Vanity, to
+the seventh heaven of symbolical expression.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>La Gioconda</i> is, in the truest sense, Leonardo's
+masterpiece, the revealing instance of his mode of
+thought and work. In suggestiveness, only the <i>Melancholia</i>
+of Dürer is comparable to it; and no crude
+symbolism disturbs the effect of its subdued and graceful
+mystery. We all know the face and hands of the
+figure, set in its marble chair, in that circle of fantastic
+rocks, as in some faint light under sea. Perhaps of all
+ancient pictures time has chilled it least.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> As often
+happens with works in which invention seems to reach
+its limit, there is an element in it given to, not invented
+by, the master. In that inestimable folio of drawings,
+once in the possession of Vasari, were certain designs by
+Verrocchio, faces of such impressive beauty that Leonardo
+in his boyhood copied them many times. It is hard not
+to connect with these designs of the elder, by-past
+master, as with its germinal principle, the unfathomable
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>
+smile, always with a touch of something sinister on it,
+which plays over all Leonardo's work. Besides, the
+picture is a portrait. From childhood we see this image
+defining itself on the fabric of his dreams; and but for
+express historical testimony, we might fancy that this
+was but his ideal lady, embodied and beheld at last.
+What was the relationship of a living Florentine to this
+creature of his thought? By what strange affinities
+had the dream and the person grown up thus apart,
+and yet so closely together? Present from the first
+incorporeally in Leonardo's brain, dimly traced in the
+designs of Verrocchio, she is found present at last in <i>Il
+Giocondo's</i> house. That there is much of mere portraiture
+in the picture is attested by the legend that
+by artificial means, the presence of mimes and flute-players,
+that subtle expression was protracted on the
+face. Again, was it in four years and by renewed labour
+never really completed, or in four months and as by
+stroke of magic, that the image was projected?</p>
+
+<p>"The presence that rose thus so strangely beside the
+waters, is expressive of what in the ways of a thousand
+years men had come to desire. Hers is the head upon
+which all 'the ends of the world are come,' and the
+eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out
+from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by
+cell, of strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite
+passions. Set it for a moment beside one of
+those white Greek Goddesses or beautiful women of
+antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>
+beauty, into which the soul with all its maladies has
+passed! All the thoughts and experience of the world
+have etched and moulded there, in that which they have
+of power to refine and make expressive the outward
+form, the animalism of Greece, the lust of Rome, the
+mysticism of the middle age with its spiritual ambition
+and imaginative loves, the return of the Pagan world,
+the sins of the Borgias. She is older than the rocks
+among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been
+dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave;
+and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen
+day about her; and trafficked for strange webs with
+Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of
+Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary;
+and all this has been to her but as the sound of lyres
+and flutes, and lives only in the delicacy with which it
+has moulded the changing lineaments, and tinged the
+eyelids and the hands. The fancy of a perpetual life,
+sweeping together ten thousand experiences, is an old
+one; and modern philosophy has conceived the idea
+of humanity as wrought upon by, and summing up in
+itself, all modes of thought and life. Certainly Lady
+Lisa might stand as the embodiment of the old fancy,
+the symbol of the modern idea."</p>
+
+<p>This was what the picture meant for Pater; whether
+too much, is beside the mark. Pater thought it and
+Pater wrote it, and that is enough. To others, who
+are not as Pater, it says less, and possibly more. This,
+for example, is what "Monna Lisa" suggested to one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>
+of the most distinguished and civilised minds of our
+time&mdash;James Russell Lowell:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="stanza">She gave me all that woman can,<br />
+Nor her soul's nunnery forego,<br />
+A confidence that man to man<br />
+Without remorse can never show.</p>
+
+<p class="stanza">Rare art, that can the sense refine<br />
+Till not a pulse rebellious stirs,<br />
+And, since she never can be mine,<br />
+Makes it seem sweeter to be hers!</p></div>
+
+<p>Finally, since we cannot (I believe) spend too much
+time upon this picture, let me quote Vasari's account of
+it. "For Francesco del Giocondo, Leonardo undertook
+to paint the portrait of Monna Lisa, his wife, but, after
+loitering over it for four years, he finally left it unfinished.
+This work is now in the possession of the
+King Francis of France, and is at Fontainebleau.
+Whoever shall desire to see how far art can imitate
+nature may do so to perfection in this head, wherein
+every peculiarity that could be depicted by the utmost
+subtlety of the pencil has been faithfully reproduced.
+The eyes have the lustrous brightness and moisture
+which is seen in life, and around them are those pale,
+red, and slightly livid circles, also proper to nature,
+with the lashes, which can only be copied, as these are,
+with the greatest difficulty; the eyebrows also are represented
+with the closest exactitude, where fuller and
+where more thinly set, with the separate hairs delineated
+as they issue from the skin, every turn being followed,
+and all the pores exhibited in a manner that could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span>
+be more natural than it is: the nose, with its beautiful
+and delicately roseate nostrils, might be easily believed
+to be alive; the mouth, admirable in its outline, has the
+lips uniting the rose-tints of their colour with that of
+the face, in the utmost perfection, and the carnation of
+the cheek does not appear to be painted, but truly of
+flesh and blood; he who looks earnestly at the pit of
+the throat cannot but believe that he sees the beating
+of the pulses, and it may be truly said that this work is
+painted in a manner well calculated to make the boldest
+master tremble, and astonishes all who behold it, however
+well accustomed to the marvels of art.</p>
+
+<p>"Monna Lisa was exceedingly beautiful, and while
+Leonardo was painting her portrait, he took the precaution
+of keeping some one constantly near her, to sing
+or play on instruments, or to jest and otherwise amuse
+her, to the end that she might continue cheerful, and
+so that her face might not exhibit the melancholy expression
+often imparted by painters to the likenesses
+they take. In this portrait of Leonardo's, on the
+contrary, there is so pleasing an expression, and a smile
+so sweet, that while looking at it one thinks it rather
+divine than human, and it has ever been esteemed a
+wonderful work, since life itself could exhibit no other
+appearance."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="joconde" id="joconde"></a>
+<img src="images/i_128.jpg" width="434" height="650" alt="LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA" />
+<p class="caption">LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA<br />
+<span class="s2">LEONARDO DA VINCI</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>King Francis I. (who met our Henry VIII. on the
+Field of the Cloth of Gold) bought the picture of
+Monna Lisa from the artist for a sum of money equal
+now to £20,000. It was on a visit to Francis that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span>
+Leonardo died. "Monna Lisa" was the most valuable
+picture in the cabinet of Francis I. and was first hung
+there in 1545. It is very interesting to think that
+this work, the peculiar glory of the Gallery, should also
+be its nucleus, so to speak. The Venus of Milo and the
+Winged Victory, which I have grouped with "Monna
+Lisa" as its chief treasures, were not added until the
+last century.</p>
+
+<p>Among other pictures in the Louvre which date
+from the inception of a royal collection in the brain of
+Francis I. are the "Virgin of the Rocks" by Leonardo,
+Raphael's "Sainte Famille" (No. 1498) and "Saint
+Michael," Andrea del Sarto's "Charité" and Piombo's
+"Visitation". Louis XIII. began his reign with about
+fifty pictures and increased them to two hundred, while
+under Louis XIV., the Louvre's most conspicuous friend,
+the royal collection grew from these two hundred to
+two thousand&mdash;assisted greatly by Colbert the financier,
+who bought for the Crown not only much of the
+collection of the banker Jabach of Cologne, the Pierpont
+Morgan of his day, who had acquired the art
+treasures of our own Charles I., but also the Mazarin
+bibelots. Under Louis XIV. and succeeding monarchs
+the pictures oscillated between the Louvre, the Luxembourg
+and Versailles. The Revolution centralised them
+in the Louvre, and on 8th November, 1793, the collection
+was made over to the public. During the first
+Republic one hundred thousand francs a year were set
+aside for the purchase of pictures.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But we are in the Salon Carré. Close beside "La
+Joconde" is that Raphael which gives me personally
+more pleasure than any of his pictures&mdash;the portrait,
+beautiful in greys and blacks, of Count Baldassare
+Castiglione, reproduced <a href="#balthasar">opposite page 52</a>; here is a
+Correggio (No. 1117) bathed in a glory of light; here
+is a golden Giorgione; here is an allegory by Titian
+(No. 1589) not so miraculously coloured as the Correggio
+but wonderfully rich and beautiful; here is a
+little princess by Velasquez; and near it a haunting
+portrait of a young man (No. 1644) which has been
+attributed to many hands, but rests now as the work of
+Francia Bigio. I reproduce it <a href="#portrait">opposite page 70</a>. And
+that is but a fraction of the treasures of the Salon Carré.
+For there are other Titians, notably the portrait (No.
+1592) of a young man with a glove (reproduced <a href="#homme">opposite
+page 64</a>) marked by a beautiful gravity; other Raphaels,
+more characteristic, including "La Belle Jardinière"
+(No. 1496), filled with a rich deep calm; the sweetest
+Luini that I remember (No. 1354), and the immense
+"Marriage at Cana" by Paolo Veronese, which when
+I saw it recently was being laboriously engraved on
+copper by a gentleman in the middle of the room. It
+was odd to watch so careful a piece of translation in
+the actual making&mdash;to see Veronese's vast scene with
+its rich colouring and tremendous energy coming down
+into spider-like scratches on two square feet of hard
+metal. I did not know that such patience was any
+longer exercised. This picture, by the way, has a double
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span>
+interest&mdash;the general and the particular. As Whistler
+said of Switzerland, you may both admire the mountain
+and recognise the tourist on the top. It is full of
+portraits. The bride at the end of the table is Eleanor
+of Austria; at her side is Francis I. (who found his
+way into as many pictures as most men); next to him,
+in yellow, is Mary of England. The Sultan Suliman I.
+and the Emperor Charles V. are not absent. The
+musicians are the artist and his friends&mdash;Paul himself
+playing the 'cello, Tintoretto the piccolo, Titian the
+bass viol, and Bassano the flute. The lady with a
+toothpick is (alas!) Vittoria Colonna.</p>
+
+<p>It is, by the way, always student-day at the Louvre&mdash;at
+least I never remember to have been there, except
+on Sundays, when copyists were not at work. Many of
+the copies are being made to order as altar pieces in
+new churches and for other definite purposes. Not all,
+however! A newspaper paragraph lying before me
+states that the authorities of the Louvre have five
+hundred unfinished copies on their hands, abandoned by
+their authors so thoroughly as never to be inquired for
+again. I am not surprised.</p>
+
+<p>From the Salle Carré we enter the Grande Galerie,
+which begins with the Florentine School, and ends, a
+vast distance away, with Rembrandt. But first it is
+well to turn into the little Salle des Primitifs Italiens,
+a few steps on the right, for here are very rare
+and beautiful things: Botticelli's "Madonna with a
+child and John the Baptist" (No. 1296); Domenico
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>
+Ghirlandaio's "Portrait of an old man and a boy"
+(No. 1322), which I reproduce <a href="#vieux">opposite page 136</a>, that
+triumph of early realism, and his "Visitation" (No.
+1321), with its joyful colouring, culminating in a glorious
+orange gown; Benedetto Ghirlandaio's "Christ on
+the way to Golgotha" (No. 1323, on the opposite wall),
+a fine hard red picture; two little Piero di Cosimos (on
+each side of the door), very mellow and gay&mdash;representing
+scenes in the marriage of Thetis and Peleus; Fra
+Filippo Lippi's "Madonna and Child with two sainted
+abbots" (No. 1344), and the "Nativity" next it (No.
+1343); a sweet and lovely "Virgin and Child" (No.
+1345) of the Fra Filippo Lippi school; another, also
+very beautiful, by Mainardi (No. 1367); a canvas of portraits,
+including Giotto and the painter himself, by Paolo
+Uccello (No. 1272), the very picture described by Vasari
+in the <i>Lives</i>; and Giotto's scenes in the life of St.
+Francis, in the frame of which, as we shall see, I once,
+for historical comparison, slipped the photograph of M.
+Henri Pol, charmeur des oiseaux. These I name; but
+much remains that will appeal even more to others.</p>
+
+<p>To walk along the Grande Galerie is practically to
+traverse the history of art: Italian, Spanish, British,
+German, Flemish and Dutch paintings all hang here.
+Nothing is missing but the French, which, however, are
+very near at hand. Some lines of Landor which always
+come to my mind in a picture gallery I may quote
+hereabouts with peculiar fitness, and also with a desire
+to transfer the haunting&mdash;a very good one even if one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>
+does not agree with the reference to Rembrandt, which
+I do not:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+First bring me Raphael, who alone hath seen<br />
+In all her purity Heaven's Virgin Queen,<br />
+Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then<br />
+Titian, ennobler of the noblest men;<br />
+And next the sweet Correggio, nor chastise<br />
+His little Cupids for those wicked eyes.<br />
+I want not Rubens's pink puffy bloom,<br />
+Nor Rembrandt's glimmer in a dirty room<br />
+With these, nor Poussin's nymph-frequented woods<br />
+His templed heights and long-drawn solitudes.<br />
+I am content, yet fain would look abroad<br />
+On one warm sunset of Ausonian Claude.</p>
+
+<p>It is no province of this book to take the place of
+a catalogue; but I must mention a few pictures. The
+left wall is throughout, I may say, except in the case
+of the British pictures, the better. Here, very early,
+is the lovely "Holy Family" of Andrea del Sarto (No.
+1515); here hang the four Leonardos which I have
+mentioned and certain of his derivatives; a beautiful
+Andrea Solario (No. 1530); a Lotto, very modern in
+feeling (No. 1350); a very striking "Salome" by Luini
+(1355), and the same painter's "Holy Family" (No.
+1353); Mantegna; a fine Palma; Bellini; Antonello
+da Messina; more Titians, including "The Madonna
+with the rabbit" (No. 1578) and "Jupiter and Antiope"
+(No. 1587); a new portrait of a man in armour by
+Tintoretto, lately lent to the Louvre, one of his gravest
+and greatest; and so on to the sweet Umbrians&mdash;to
+Perugino and to Raphael, among whose pictures are two
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>
+or three examples of his gay romantic manner, the most
+pleasing of which (No. 1509), "Apollo and Marsyas," is
+only conjecturally attributed to him.</p>
+
+<p>We pass then to Spain&mdash;to Murillo, who is represented
+here both in his rapturous saccharine and his realistic
+moods, "La Naissance de la Vierge" (No. 1710) and
+"Le Jeune Mendicant" (No. 1717); to Velasquez, who,
+however, is no longer credited with the lively sketch of
+Spanish gentlemen (No. 1734); and to Zurbaran, the
+strong and merciless.</p>
+
+<p>The British pictures are few but choice, including a
+very fine Raeburn, and landscapes by Constable and
+Bonington, two painters whom the French elevated to
+the rank of master and influence while we were still debating
+their merits. Such a landscape as "Le Cottage"
+(No. 1806) by Constable, with its rich English simplicity,
+brings one up with a kind of start in the midst of so
+much grandiosity and pomp. It is out of place here,
+and yet one is very happy to see it. From Britain we
+pass to the Flemish and Germans&mdash;to perfect Holbeins,
+including an Erasmus and Dürer; to Rubens, who, however,
+comes later in his full force, and to the gross and
+juicy Jordaens.</p>
+
+<p>Then sublimity again; for here is Rembrandt of the
+Rhine. After Leonardo, Rembrandt is to me the glory
+of the Louvre, and especially the glory of the Grande
+Galerie, the last section of which is now hung with
+twenty-two of his works. Not one of them is perhaps
+superlative Rembrandt: there is nothing quite so fine
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>
+as the portrait of Elizabeth Bas at the Ryks, or the
+"School of Anatomy" at the Mauritshuis, or the "Unjust
+Steward" at Hertford House; but how wonderful
+they are! Look at the miracle of the flying angel in
+the picture of Tobias&mdash;how real it is and how light!
+Look closely at the two little pictures of the philosopher
+in meditation. I have chosen the beautiful "Venus et
+L'Amour" and the "Pèlerins d'Emmaus" for reproduction;
+but I might equally have taken others. They
+will be found opposite <a href="#venus">pages 146</a> and <a href="#pelerins">154</a>.</p>
+
+<p>On the other wall are a few pictures by Rembrandt's
+pupils and colleagues, such as Ferdinand Bol and Govaert
+Flinck, who were always on the track of the master;
+and more particularly Gerard Dou: note the old woman
+in his "Lecture de la Bible," for it is Rembrandt's
+mother, and also look carefully at "La Femme Hydropique,"
+one of his most miraculously finished works&mdash;a
+Rembrandt through the small end of a telescope.</p>
+
+<p>From these we pass to the sumptuous Salle Van Dyck,
+which in its turn leads to the Salle Rubens, and one is
+again filled with wonder at the productivity of the twain&mdash;pupil
+and master. Did he never tire, this Peter Paul
+Rubens? Did a new canvas never deter or abash him?
+It seems not. No sooner was it set up in his studio than
+at it he must have gone like a charge of cavalry, magnificent
+in his courage, in his skill and in his brio. What
+a record! Has Rubens' square mileage ever been worked
+out, I wonder. He was very like a Frenchman: it is
+the vigour and spirit of Dumas at work with the brush.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span>
+In the Louvre there are fifty-four attested works, besides
+many drawings; and it seems to me that I must have
+seen as many in Vienna, and as many in Dresden, and
+as many in Berlin, and as many in Antwerp, and as
+many in Brussels, to say nothing of the glorious landscape
+in Trafalgar Square. He is always overpowering;
+but for me the quieter, gentler brushes. None the less
+the portrait of Helène Fourment and their two children,
+in the Grande Galerie, although far from approaching
+that exquisite picture in the Liechtenstein Gallery in
+Vienna, when the boys were a little older, is a beautiful
+and living thing which one would not willingly miss.</p>
+
+<p>Van Dyck was, of course, more austere, less boisterous
+and abundant, but his record is hardly less amazing,
+and he seems to have faced life-size equestrian groups,
+such as the Charles the First here, without a tremor.
+The Charles is superb in his distinction and disdain;
+but for me, however, Van Dyck is the painter of single
+portraits, of which, no matter where I go, none seems
+more noble and satisfying than our own Cornelius Van
+Voorst in Trafalgar Square. But the "Dame et sa Fille,"
+which is reproduced on the opposite page, is very
+beautiful.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="vandyck" id="vandyck"></a>
+<img src="images/i_138.jpg" width="425" height="650" alt="UNE DAME ET SA FILLE" />
+<p class="caption">UNE DAME ET SA FILLE<br />
+<span class="s2">VAN DYCK</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>All round the Salle Rubens are arranged the little
+cabinets in which the small Dutch pictures hang&mdash;the
+Jan Steens and the Terburgs, the Hals' and the Metsus,
+the Ruisdaels and the Karel du Jardins, the Ostades
+and the golden Poelenburghs. Of these what can I say?
+There they are, in their hundreds, the least of them
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>
+worth many minutes' scrutiny. But a few may be picked
+out: the Jan van Eyck (No. 1986) "La Vierge au
+Donateur," reproduced <a href="#donateur">opposite page 166</a>, in which the
+Chancellor Rollin reveres the Virgin on the roof of a
+tower, and small wild animals happily play around, and
+we see in the distance one of those little fairy cities so
+dear to the Flemish painter's imagination; David's
+"Noce de Cana"; Metsu's "Vierge et Enfant" the
+Memling and the Rogier van der Weyden, close by;
+Franz Hals' "Bohémienne," reproduced <a href="#hals">opposite page
+186</a>; Van der Heyden's lovely "Plaine de Haarlem" (No.
+2382); Paul Potter's "Bois de La Haye" (No. 2529),
+almost like a Diaz, and his little masterpiece No. 2526;
+the Terburgs: the "Music Lesson" (No. 2588) and the
+charming "Reading Lesson" (No. 2591) with the little
+touzled fair-haired boy in it, reproduced <a href="#lecon">opposite page
+206</a>; Ruisdael's "Paysage dit le Coup de Soleil" (No.
+2560); Hobbema's "Moulin à eau" (No. 2404); and,
+to my eyes, almost first of all, Vermeer of Delft's "Lacemaker"
+(No. 2456), reproduced <a href="#dentelliere">opposite page 216</a>.
+These are all I name.</p>
+
+<p>So much for the paintings by the masters of the
+world. The Louvre also has drawings from the same
+hands, which hang in their thousands in a series of
+rooms on the first floor, overlooking the Rue de Rivoli.
+Here, as I have said, are other Leonardos (look particularly
+at No. 389), and here, too, are drawings by Raphael
+and Rembrandt, Correggio and Rubens (a child's head
+in particular), Domenico Ghirlandaio and Chardin,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span>
+Mantegna and Watteau, Dürer and Ingres. I reproduce
+only one, a study attributed to the school of
+Fabriano, <a href="#head">opposite page 228</a>. Here one may spend
+a month in daily visits and wish never to break the
+habit. We have in England hardly less valuable and
+interesting drawings, but they are not to be seen in this
+way. One must visit the Print Room of the British
+Museum and ask for them one by one in portfolios.
+The Louvre, I think, manages it better.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_vii" id="chapter_vii"></a>CHAPTER VII<br />
+THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Early French Painters&mdash;Richard Parkes
+Bonington&mdash;Chardin&mdash;Historical
+Paintings&mdash;Bonington again&mdash;The Moreau Collection&mdash;The
+Thomy-Thierret Collection&mdash;The Chauchard Collection.</p>
+
+<p>French pictures early and late now await us. On
+our way down the Grande Galerie we passed on
+the right two entrances to other rooms. Taking that
+one which is nearer the British School, we find ourselves
+in Salle IX., leading to Salle X. and so on to Galerie
+XVI., which completes the series. In Salle X. the
+beginnings of French art may be studied, and in
+particular the curious Japanese effects of the Ecole
+d'Avignon. Here also is very interesting work by Le
+Maître de Moulins and a remarkable series of drawings
+in the case in the middle, representing the Siege of Troy.
+Salle XI. is notable for its portraits by Clouet and
+others; in Salle XII. we find Le Sueur, and in Salle XIII.
+the curious brothers Le Nain, of whom there are very
+interesting examples at the Ionides collection at South
+Kensington, but nothing better than the haymaking
+scene here, No. 542.</p>
+
+<p>French painting of the seventeenth century bursts
+upon us in the great Salle XIV. or Galerie Mollien,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>
+of which Nicolas Poussin and Ausonian Claude are the
+giants, thus completing Landor's pleasant list with
+which we entered the Grande Galerie in the last chapter.
+There are wonderful things here, but so crowded are
+they that I always feel lost and confused. There is,
+however, compensation and relief, for the room also
+contains one minute masterpiece which perhaps not
+more than five out of every thousand visitors have seen,
+and yet which can be studied with perfect quietness
+and leisure. This is a tiny water-colour in the revolving
+screen in the middle. There is much delicate work in
+this screen, dainty aquatint effects by the Dutchmen
+Ostade and Van der Heyden, Weenix and Borssom, and
+so forth; but finest of all (as so often happens) is a
+little richly-coloured drawing of Nottingham by Bonington,
+who, as we shall see, has a way of cropping
+up unsuspectedly and graciously in this great collection&mdash;and
+very rightly, since he owed so much to that
+Gallery. He was one of the youngest students ever
+admitted, being allowed to copy there at the age of
+fifteen, while at the Beaux Arts. That was in the year
+after Waterloo. There may in the history of the
+Gallery have been copyists equally young, but there can
+never have been one more distinguished or who had
+deeper influence on French art. Paris not only made
+Bonington's career but ended it, for it was while sketching
+in its streets ten years or more later that he met
+with the sunstroke which brought about his death
+when he was only twenty-seven, and stilled the marvellous
+hand for ever.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Salle XV. is given up to portraits, among them&mdash;and
+shall I say chief of them, certainly chief of them in
+point of popularity&mdash;the adorable portrait of Madame
+Elizabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun and her daughter,
+painted by herself, which is perhaps the best-known
+French picture, and of which I give a reproduction
+<a href="#madame">opposite page 246</a>. On a screen in this room are placed
+the latest acquisitions. When last I was there the more
+noticeable pictures were a portrait by Romney of himself,
+rich and melancholy, recalling to the mind Tennyson's
+monologue, and a sweet and ancient religieuse by Memling.
+There were also some Corot drawings, not perhaps
+so good as those in the Moreau collection, but very
+beautiful, and a charming old-world lady by Fragonard.
+These probably are by this time distributed over the
+galleries, and other new arrivals have taken their place.
+I hope so.</p>
+
+<p>Galerie XVI., which leads out of the Salle des Portraits,
+brings us to French art of the eighteenth century&mdash;to
+Greuze and David, to Fragonard and Watteau,
+to Lancret and Boucher, and, to my mind, most charming,
+most pleasure-giving of all, to Jean Baptiste Siméon
+Chardin, who is to be seen in perfection here and in the
+distant room which contains the Collection La Caze.
+It is probable that no painter ever had quite so much
+charm as this kindly Frenchman, whose loving task it
+was to sweeten and refine homely Dutch art. Chardin
+is the most winsome of all painters: his brush laid a
+bloom on domestic life. The Louvre has twenty-eight
+of his canvases, mostly still-life, distributed between the
+Salle La Caze and Salle No. XVI., where we now are.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>
+The most charming of all, which is to be seen in the
+Salle La Caze, is reproduced <a href="#benedicite">opposite page 234</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Having walked down the left wall of the Salle, it is
+well to slip out at the door at the end for a moment
+and refresh oneself with another view of Botticelli's
+fresco, which is just outside, before returning by the
+other wall, as we have to go back through the Salle
+des Portraits in order to examine Salle VIII., a vast
+room wholly filled with French paintings of the first
+half of the nineteenth century, bringing the nation's
+art to the period more or less at which the Luxembourg
+takes it up, though there is a certain amount of overlapping.
+No room in the Louvre so wants weeding
+and re-hanging as this, for it is a sad jumble. Search,
+however, for the magnificent examples by the great <i>plein-airistes</i>.
+They are lost in this wilderness; but there they
+are for those that seek&mdash;the two vast Troyons; Corot's
+magic "Souvenir de Castel-Gondolfon"; a great Daubigny,
+"Les Vendances de Bourgogne," very hard and fine,
+and the same gigantic painter's large and lovely harvest
+scene, "Le Moisson"; Rousseau's "Sortie de Forêt," not
+unlike the Rousseau in the Wallace Collection in London,
+with its natural archway of branches and rich
+tenderness of colour; the sublime "La Vague," by
+Courbet; lastly Millet's "Les Glaneuses," the three
+stooping women in the cornfield who come to the inward
+eye almost as readily as the figures in the
+"Angelus". The red, blue and yellow of their head-kerchiefs
+alone would make this picture worth a millionaire's
+ransom.</p>
+
+<p>We leave the room by the door opposite that through
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>
+which we came and find ourselves again in the Grande
+Galerie. The way now is to the left, through the
+Italian Schools, through the Salon Carré (why not stay
+there and let French art go hang?) through the
+Galerie d'Apollon (of which more anon), through the
+Rotunda and the Salle des Bijoux (whither we shall
+return), to another crowded late eighteenth and early
+nineteenth century French room chiefly notable for
+David's Madame Récamier on her joyless little sofa.
+(Why didn't we stay in the Salon Carré?) In this
+room also are two large Napoleonic pictures&mdash;one by
+Gros representing General Bonaparte visiting the
+plague victims at Jaffa in 1799; the other, by David,
+of the consecration service in Notre Dame, described in
+an earlier chapter. To see this kind of picture, at
+which the French have for many years been extremely
+apt, one must of course go to Versailles, where the
+history of France is spread lavishly over many square
+miles of canvas.</p>
+
+<p>From this room&mdash;La Salle des Sept Cheminées&mdash;we
+pass through a little vestibule, with Courbet's great
+village funeral in it, to the very pleasant Salle La Caze,
+containing the greater part of the collection of the late
+Dr. La Caze, and notable chiefly for the Chardins of
+which I have already spoken, and also, by the further
+door, for a haunting "Buste de femme" attributed to
+the Milanese School. But there are other admirable
+pictures here, including a Velasquez, and it repays
+study.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving by the further door and walking for some
+distance, we come to the His de la Salle collection of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span>
+drawings, from which we gain the Collection Thiers,
+which should perhaps be referred to here, although there
+is not the slightest necessity to see it at all. The
+Thiers collection, which occupies two rooms, is remarkable
+chiefly for its water-colour copies of great paintings.
+The first President of the Republic employed
+patient artists to make copies suitable for hanging
+upon his walls of such inaccessible works as the "Last
+Judgment" of Michael Angelo and Raphael's Dresden
+Madonna. The results are certainly extraordinary,
+even if they are not precisely la guerre. The Arundel
+Society perhaps found its inspiration in this collection.
+Among the originals there is a fine Terburg.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the Thiers collection, one comes to a
+narrow passage with a little huddle of water-colours,
+very badly treated as to light and space, and well worth
+more consideration. These pictures should not be
+missed, for among them are two Boningtons, a windmill
+in a sombre landscape, which I reproduce <a href="#windmill">opposite page
+274</a>, and next to it a masterly drawing of the statue
+of Bartolommé Colleoni at Venice, which Ruskin called
+the finest equestrian group in the world. Bonington,
+who had the special gift of painting great pictures in
+small compass (just as there are men who can use a
+whole wall to paint a little picture on), has made a
+drawing in which the original sculptor would have
+rejoiced. It would do the Louvre authorities good if
+these Boningtons, which they treat so carelessly, were
+stolen.  Nothing could be easier; I worked out the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>
+felony as I stood there. All that one would need would
+be a few friends equally concerned to teach the Louvre
+a lesson, behind whose broad backs one could ply the
+diamond and the knife. Were I a company promoter
+this is how I should spend my leisure hours. Such
+theft is very nigh virtue.</p>
+
+<p>Among other pictures in these bad little rooms&mdash;Nos.
+XVII. and XVIII.&mdash;are some Millets and Decamps.</p>
+
+<p>Three more collections&mdash;and these really more interesting
+than anything we saw in Galeries XIV. or XVI., or
+the Salle des Sept Cheminées&mdash;await us; but two of them
+need considerable powers of perambulation. Chronology
+having got us under his thumb we must make the
+longer journey first&mdash;to the Collection Moreau. The
+Collection Moreau is to be found at the top of the
+Musée des Arts Décoratifs, the entrance to which is in
+the Rue de Rivoli. In the lower part of this building
+are held periodical exhibitions; but the upper parts are
+likely at any rate for a long time to remain unchanged,
+and here are wonderful collections of furniture, and here
+hang the few but select canvases brought together by
+Adolphe Moreau and his son, and presented to the nation
+by M. Etienne Moreau-Nelaton.</p>
+
+<p>In the Thomy-Thierret collection in another top
+storey of the same inexhaustible palace (to which our
+fainting feet are bound) are Corots of the late period;
+M. Moreau bought the earlier. Here, among nearly
+forty others, you may see that portrait of Corot painted
+in 1825, just before he left for Rome, which his parents
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>
+exacted from him in return for their consent to his new
+career and the abandonment of their rosy dreams of his
+success as a draper. Here you may see "Un Moine,"
+one of the first pictures he was able to sell&mdash;for five
+hundred francs (twenty pounds). Here is the charming
+marine "La Rochelle" painted in 1851 and given by
+Corot to Desbarolles and by Desbarolles to the younger
+Dumas. Here is the very beautiful Pont de Mantes,
+reproduced <a href="#pont">opposite page 252</a>, belonging to his later
+manner, and here also is an exceptionally merry little
+sketch, "Bateau de pêche à marée basse". I mention
+these only, since selection is necessary; but everything
+that Corot painted becomes in time satisfying to the
+student and indispensable to its owner. Among the
+pencil drawings we find this exquisite lover of nature
+once more, with fifteen studies of his Mistress.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most interesting of the Moreau pictures
+is Fantin-Latour's "Hommage à Delacroix," with its
+figures of certain of the great and more daring writers
+and painters of the day, 1864, the year after Delacroix's
+death. They are grouped about his framed portrait&mdash;Manet,
+red haired and red bearded, a little like Mr.
+Meredith in feature; Whistler, with his white feather
+black and vigorous, and his hand on the historical cane;
+Legros (the only member of the group who is still living,
+and long may he live!) and Baudelaire, for all the world
+like an innocent professor. Manet himself is represented
+here by his famous "Déjeuner sur l'herbe," which the
+scandalised Salon of 1863 refused to hang, and three
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span>
+smaller canvases. Among the remaining pictures which
+gave me most pleasure are Couture's portrait of Adolphe
+Moreau the younger; Daumier's "La République";
+Carrière's "L'enfant à la soupière" (notice the white
+bowl); Decamps' "La Battue," curiously like a Koninck;
+and Troyon's "Le Passage du Gué," so rich and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>From the Collection Moreau, with its early Barbizon
+pictures, one ought to pass to the Chauchard
+with its middle period, and then to the Collection
+Thomy-Thierret; but let us go to the Thomy-Thierret
+now. It needs courage and endurance, for the
+room which contains these exquisite pictures is only to
+be reached on foot after climbing many stairs and walking
+for what seem to be many miles among models of
+ships and other neglected curiosities on the Louvre's topmost
+floor. But once the room is reached one is perfectly
+happy, for every picture is a gem and there is no
+one there. M. Thomy-Thierret, who died quite recently,
+was a collector who liked pictures to be small, to be rich
+in colour, and to be painted by the Barbizon and
+Romantic Schools. Here you may see twelve Corots,
+all of a much later period than those bequeathed by M.
+Moreau, among them such masterpieces as "Le Vallon"
+(No. 2801), reproduced <a href="#vallon">opposite the next page</a>, "Le
+Chemin de Sèvres" (No. 2803), "Entrée de Village" (No.
+2808), "Les Chaumières" (No. 2809), and "La Route
+d'Arras" (No. 2810). Here are thirteen Daubignys, including
+"Les Graves de Villerville" (No. 28,177), and one
+sombre and haunting English scene&mdash;"La Tamise à
+Erith" (No. 2821). Here are ten Diazes, most beautiful
+of which to my eyes is "L'Éplorée" (No. 2863). Here are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span>
+ten Rousseaus, among them "Le Printemps" (No. 2903),
+with its rapturous freshness, which I reproduce <a href="#printemps">opposite
+page 120</a>, and "Les Chênes" (No. 2900), such a group
+of trees as Rousseau alone could paint. Here are six
+Millets, my favourite being the "Précaution Maternelle"
+(No. 2894), with its lovely blues, which again reappear
+in "Le Vanneur" (No. 2893). Here are eleven Troyons,
+of which "La Provende des poules" (No. 2907), with its
+bustle of turkeys and chickens around the gay peasant
+girl beneath a burning sky, reproduced <a href="#provende">opposite page
+266</a>, is one of the first pictures to which my feet carry
+me on my visits to Paris. Here are twelve Duprés,
+most memorable of which is "Les Landes" (No. 2871).
+And here also are Delacroix', Isabeys and Meissoniers.</p>
+
+<p>The Chauchard pictures&mdash;140 in number&mdash;which are
+now hanging in five rooms leading from the Salle Rubens,
+were bequeathed to the nation by M. Alfred Chauchard,
+proprietor of the Magasins du Louvre (which some
+visitors to Paris have considered the only Louvre).
+Among the pictures are twenty-six by Corot, twenty-six
+by Meissonier, eight by Millet (including "L'Angelus")
+and eight by Daubigny.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="vallon" id="vallon"></a>
+<img src="images/i_152.jpg" width="650" height="387" alt="LE VALLON" />
+<p class="caption">LE VALLON<br />
+<span class="s2">COROT</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>I may say at once that the Chauchard Collection does
+not compare with the Thomy-Thierret in courage. M.
+Thomy-Thierret liked his pictures to be small and exquisite
+and happy. Within the limits imposed the
+Barbizon painters never did anything more delightful
+or indeed better. The whole collection&mdash;and it is
+beyond price&mdash;is homogeneous: it embodies the taste
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span>
+of one man. M. Moreau and his son had a robuster
+taste, a bolder eye. They wanted strength as well as
+sweetness, or strength alone. Their collection has not
+quite the homogeneity of the Thomy-Thierret, but one
+feels here also that personality has honestly been at
+work bringing together things of beauty and power that
+pleased it, and nothing else. But M. Chauchard....</p>
+
+<p>It is perfectly evident in a moment that M. Chauchard
+had neither knowledge nor taste. He merely had
+acumen. At a certain moment in his successful life, one
+feels, M. Chauchard extended himself before the fire-place,
+stroked his spreading <i>favoris</i> (so like those of our own
+Whiteley), and announced "I must have some pictures".
+Other prosperous men saying the same thing have forthwith
+taken their courage in their hands and bought
+pictures; but M. Chauchard as I see him (both in his
+dazzling marble bust and in the portrait by Benjamin Constant),
+was not like that. "I must have some pictures,"
+he announced, and then quickly reverted to type and
+cast about as to the best means of discovering whose
+pictures were most worth buying. That is how the
+Chauchard Collection came about, if I am not mistaken:
+it was the venture of an essentially commercial man&mdash;an
+investor-in-grain&mdash;who also desired a reputation of virtuosity
+but did not want to lose money over it.</p>
+
+<p>As it happens M. Chauchard was well advised. But
+wonderful as they are, beautiful as they are, valuable as
+they are, there is not a picture here which suggests to
+the visitor that it ever brought a real gladness to the
+eyes of its owner in his own home.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But I can convince you only too easily that M. Chauchard
+had no taste. Do you remember when driving out
+to Longchamp, through the Bois, either to the Races or
+to Suresnes, just after you pass the Cascade, you come
+on the left to a windmill overlooking the course, and on
+the right to a white villa, all alone and unreal? A club
+house, one naturally thinks it, for the French Jockey
+Club, or something of that kind. You may have forgotten
+the villa, but you will recall it when I say that
+on the very trim vivid lawn in front of it, scattered
+about, supposed to be counterfeiting life, are various
+animals in stone&mdash;a stag, a doe, some dogs, all white and
+motionless, in the best mortuary manner, and all, to
+you and me, outrageous. Well, that was one of M.
+Chauchard's homes. M. Chauchard was the owner of
+that lawn and its occupants. The man who looking out
+of his window could feast his eye on these triumphs of
+the monumental mason was the same man who bought
+for his walls sheep by Jacque and Millet, and cattle and
+dogs by Troyon....</p>
+
+<p>No matter. M. Chauchard acquired pictures and left
+them to the French Nation, and they are now on view
+for ever (always excepting the fatal Continental Mondays)
+for all to rejoice in. The first really compellingly
+beautiful work as one enters&mdash;the first picture to touch
+the emotions&mdash;is Rousseau's "La Charrette". It was
+painted in 1862, five years before the painter's death,
+which left the villagers of Barbizon the richer by a
+studio-chapel. It is a mere trifle and it is as wonderful
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span>
+as a summer day: a forest glade, in the midst of which
+a tiny wagon and white horse with blue trappings are
+seen beneath a burning sky, such a picture as ought to
+have a wall if not a room to itself: such a picture as I
+should like to see placed above an altar. It is the same
+subject&mdash;a forest wagon&mdash;that provided what in some
+ways is the best or most attractive Corot here. His
+"La Charrette" is a large easy landscape lit by the
+gracious light of which he alone had the secret. In the
+foreground is a deep sandy road with the charrette
+labouring through it. But before we came to this we
+had stood before one of the finest of the seven Daubignys,
+"La Seine à Bezons," a river scene of almost terrible
+calm, with Mont Valerien in the distance and geese
+and boats on the near shore, and implicit in it the
+sincerity, strength and humility of this great man.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the room hang two large and busy
+Troyons, one on each side of M. Chauchard himself, the
+donor of the feast, whose bust in the whitest Carrara,
+with the whiskers in full fig and the <i>croix de grand
+officier du Legion d'honneur</i> meticulously carved upon
+it, stands here, as stipulated in the will. These two
+Troyons, of which there are eighteen in all, are I think
+the largest. One represents cows sauntering lazily down
+to drink; the other the return from the market of a
+mixed herd of cattle and sheep, with a donkey in
+panniers, being driven by a man on a white horse. As
+was his wont, Troyon chose a road on the edge of a
+cliff with a very green border of turf and an exquisite
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>
+glimpse of sea to the left. None of the new Troyons
+perhaps is as fine as those in Salle VIII. of the Louvre
+proper, but this is a superb thing. The "Boeufs se
+rendant au labour" and the "Le Retour à la ferme" in
+Salle VIII. should be visited after the Chauchards.</p>
+
+<p>And so we leave the first and largest room, in the
+midst of which are two cases of Barye's bronzes&mdash;lions
+and tigers, bears and deer, snakes and birds&mdash;and enter
+the first room on the left as we came in; and here we
+begin to see for the first time pictures with special knots
+of people before them. For the Meissoniers begin here.
+And of Meissonier what am I to say? For Meissonier
+leaves me cold. He is marvellous; but he leaves me
+cold. He painted with a fidelity and spirit that border
+on the magical; but those qualities that I want in
+a picture, those callings of deep to deep, one seeks
+in vain. Hence I say nothing of Meissonier, except
+that he was a master, that there are twenty-six of his
+masterpieces here, and that the crowd opposite his
+"1814" extends to the opposite side. How can one
+spend time over "Le cheval de l'ordonnance" and the
+"Petit Poste de Grand'-Garde" when Daubigny's "Les
+Laveuses (effet de soleil couchant)" hangs so near&mdash;this
+great placid green picture, so profoundly true as to
+be almost an act of God? Corot's "Etang de Ville
+d'Avray" is here too, liquid and tender.</p>
+
+<p>The little room that leads out of this is usually
+almost unenterable by reason of the press before Meissonier's
+"1814". This undoubtedly is one of the little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span>
+great pictures of the world, and I can understand the
+enthusiasm of the French sightseer, whose blood is still
+stirrable by the enduring personality of the saturnine
+man on the white horse. Neighbouring pictures are a
+rich cattle piece by Diaz, immediately over "1814";
+Rousseau's "La Mare," which is not a little like the
+Koninck in the Ionides Collection at South Kensington,
+and the same painter's "La Mare au pied du coteau"
+with its lovely middle distance. Here too is one of
+Corot's many <i>pêcheurs</i>, who little knew as they fished
+on so quietly in the still gentle light that they were
+being rendered immortal by the quaint little bourgeois
+with the long pipe, sketching on the bank. One of the
+finest of the Duprés is also here&mdash;"La Vanne," a deep
+green scene of water.</p>
+
+<p>In the last room we come at last to that painter
+whose work, next perhaps to Meissonier's, is the magnet
+which draws such a steady stream of worshippers to
+this new shrine of art&mdash;to Jean François Millet. M.
+Chauchard had eight Millets, including the "Angelus,"
+but though it is the "Angelus" which is considered of
+many to be the very core of this collection, I find more
+pleasure in "La Bergère gardant ses moutons" (reproduced
+<a href="#bergere">opposite page 308</a>), which I would call, I think,
+the best picture of all. It has been remarked that no
+picture containing sheep can ever be a bad picture; but
+when Millet paints them, and when they are grazing
+beneath such a sky, and when one of those grave sweet
+peasant women&mdash;a monument of patient acceptance and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>
+the humility that comes from the soil&mdash;is their shepherdess,
+why then it is almost too much; and the brave
+ardent Jacque, whose "Moutons au Pâturage" hangs
+close by, is half suspected of theatricalism. Millet is so
+great, so full of large elemental simplicity and truth
+that one regrets that his eight pictures have not a room
+to themselves. That they should be elbowed by the
+neat dancing-master <i>chefs d'&oelig;uvre</i> of Meissonier is something
+of a catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking over the collection, I have very strongly the
+feeling already expressed that it was wrongly assembled.
+The investor rather than the enthusiast is too apparent.
+M. Chauchard, it is true, refrained from making money
+by his acquisitions, since he gave them to the nation,
+and this is eternally to his credit. None the less I find
+it difficult to esteem him as perhaps one should even in
+the light of a generous testator. One so wants pictures
+to be loved. And of all pictures that are lovable and
+that long to pass into their owner's being&mdash;to engentle
+his eyes and enrich his experience and deepen his nature&mdash;none
+equal those that were painted by the little
+group of friends who in the middle of the last century
+made the white-walled village of Barbizon their head-quarters
+and the Forest of Fontainebleau their happy
+hunting-ground and a Wordsworthian passion for nature
+their creed.</p>
+
+<p>Such pictures deserve the most faithful owners and
+the most thoughtful hospitality....</p>
+
+<p>But if we cannot get all as we wish it, at least we
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>
+must be grateful for the next best thing, and to M.
+Chauchard and the Louvre authorities we must all be
+supremely grateful.</p>
+
+<p>The Louvre is to-day the most wonderful museum in
+the world; but what would one not give to be able to
+visit it as it was in 1814, when it was in some respects
+more wonderful still. For then it was filled with the
+spoils of Napoleon's armies, who had instructions always
+to bring back from the conquered cities what they could
+see that was likely to beautify and enrich France. It
+is a reason for war in itself. I would support any war
+with Austria, for example, that would bring to London
+Count Czernin's Vermeer and the Parmigianino in the
+Vienna National Gallery; any war with Germany that
+would put the Berlin National Gallery at our disposal.
+Napoleon had other things to fight for, but that comprehensive
+brain forgot nothing, and as he deposed a
+king he remembered a blank space in the Louvre that
+lacked a Raphael, an empty niche waiting for its
+Phidias. The Revolution decreed the Museum, but it
+was Napoleon who made it priceless and glorious. After
+the fall of this man a trumpery era of restitution set in.
+Many of his noble patriotic thefts were cancelled out.
+The world readjusted itself and shrank into its old
+pettiness. Priceless pictures and statues were carried
+again to Italy and Austria, Napoleon to St. Helena.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_viii" id="chapter_viii"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br />
+THE TUILERIES</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A Vanished Palace&mdash;The Most Magnificent Vista&mdash;Enter Louis XVI.
+and Marie Antoinette&mdash;The Massacre of the Swiss Guards&mdash;The
+Blood of Paris&mdash;A Series of Disasters&mdash;The Growth of Paris&mdash;The
+Napoleonic Rebuilders&mdash;The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel&mdash;The
+Irony of History&mdash;A Frock Coat Rampant&mdash;The Statuary of
+Paris&mdash;The Gardens of the Tuileries&mdash;Monsieur Pol, Charmer of
+Birds&mdash;The Parisian Sparrow&mdash;Hyde Park&mdash;The Drum.</p>
+
+<p>Had we turned our back only thirty-eight years
+ago on Frémiet's statue of Joan of Arc (which
+was not there then) in the Place de Rivoli, and walked
+down what is now the Rue de Tuileries towards the
+Seine, we should have had on our left hand a beautiful
+and imposing building&mdash;the Palace of the Tuileries,
+which united the two wings of the Louvre that now
+terminate in the Pavillon de Marsan just by the Place
+de Rivoli and the Pavillon de Flore on the Quai des
+Tuileries. The palace stretched right across this interval,
+thus interrupting the wonderful vista of to-day
+from the old Louvre right away to the Arc de Triomphe&mdash;probably
+the most extraordinary and beautiful civilised,
+or artificial, vista in the world. The palace had,
+however, a sufficiently fine if curtailed share of it from
+its own windows.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All Parisians upwards of forty-five must remember
+the Palace perfectly, for it was not destroyed until 1871,
+during the Commune, and it was some years after that
+incendiary period before all traces were removed and
+the gardens spread uninterruptedly from the Carrousel
+to the Concorde.</p>
+
+<p>The Palace of the Tuileries (so called because it
+occupied a site previously covered by tile kilns) was
+begun in 1564 and had therefore lived for three centuries.
+Catherine de Médicis planned it, but, as we
+shall read later, she lost interest in it very quickly
+owing to one of those inconvenient prophecies which
+were wont in earlier times so to embarrass rulers, but
+which to-day in civilised countries have entirely gone
+out. The Tuileries was a happy enough palace, as
+palaces go, until the Revolution: it then became for
+a while the very centre of rebellion and carnage; for
+Louis XVI. and the Royal Family were conveyed
+thither after the fatal oath had been sworn in the
+Versailles tennis-court. Then came the critical 10th of
+August, when the King consented to attend the conference
+in the Manège (now no more, but a tablet opposite
+the Rue Castiglione marks the spot) and thus lost
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>The massacre of the Swiss Guards followed: but here
+it is impossible, or at least absurd, not to hear Carlyle.
+Mandal, Commander of the National Guard, I would
+premise, has been assassinated by the crowd; the Constitutional
+Assembly sits in the Manège, and the King,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>
+a prisoner in the Tuileries, but still a hesitant and an
+optimist, is ordered to attend it. At last he consents.
+"King Louis sits, his hands leant on his knees, body
+bent forward; gazes for a space fixedly on Syndic
+R&oelig;derer; then answers, looking over his shoulder to
+the Queen: <i>Marchons!</i> They march; King Louis,
+Queen, Sister Elizabeth, the two royal children and
+governess: these, with Syndic R&oelig;derer, and Officials of
+the Department; amid a double rank of National
+Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red
+Swiss gaze mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only
+these words from Syndic R&oelig;derer: 'The King is going
+to the Assembly; make way'. It has struck eight, on
+all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left the
+Tuileries&mdash;forever.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="parc" id="parc"></a>
+<img src="images/i_164.jpg" width="650" height="487" alt="THE PARC MONCEAU" />
+<p class="caption">THE PARC MONCEAU</p></div>
+
+<p>"O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black,
+for what a cause are ye to spend and be spent! Look
+out from the western windows, ye may see King Louis
+placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince Royal
+'sportfully kicking the fallen leaves'. Fremescent
+multitude on the Terrace of the Feuillants whirls
+parallel to him; one man in it, very noisy, with a long
+pole: will they not obstruct the outer Staircase, and
+back-entrance of the Salle, when it comes to that?
+King's Guards can go no farther than the bottom step
+there. Lo, Deputation of Legislators come out; he of
+the long pole is stilled by oratory; Assembly's Guards
+join themselves to King's Guards, and all may mount
+in this case of necessity; the outer Staircase is free, or
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>
+passable. See, Royalty ascends; a blue Grenadier lifts
+the poor little Prince Royal from the press; Royalty
+has entered in. Royalty has vanished for ever from
+your eyes.&mdash;And ye? Left standing there, amid the
+yawning abysses, and earthquake of Insurrection; without
+course; without command: if ye perish, it must
+be as more than martyrs, as martyrs who are now without
+a cause! The black Courtiers disappear mostly;
+through such issues as they can. The poor Swiss know
+not how to act: one duty only is clear to them, that of
+standing by their post; and they will perform that.</p>
+
+<p>"But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats
+now against the Château barriers and eastern Courts;
+irresistible, loud-surging far and wide;&mdash;breaks in, fills
+the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowed Marseillese
+in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the
+Assembly! Well and good: but till the Assembly
+pronounce Forfeiture of him, what boots it? Our
+post is in that Château or stronghold of his; there
+till then must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss,
+whether it were good that grim murder began, and
+brothers blasted one another in pieces for a stone
+edifice?&mdash;Poor Swiss! they know not how to act: from
+the southern windows, some fling cartridges, in sign of
+brotherhood; on the eastern outer staircase, and within
+through long stairs and corridors, they stand firm-ranked,
+peaceable and yet refusing to stir. Westermann
+speaks to them in Alsatian German; Marseillese plead,
+in hot Provençal speech and pantomime; stunning hubbub
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span>
+pleads and threatens, infinite, around. The Swiss
+stand fast, peaceable and yet immovable; red granite
+pier in that waste-flashing sea of steel.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can help the inevitable issue; Marseillese and
+all France on this side; granite Swiss on that? The
+pantomime grows hotter and hotter; Marseillese sabres
+flourishing by way of action; the Swiss brow also clouding
+itself, the Swiss thumb bringing its firelock to the
+cock. And hark! high thundering above all the din,
+three Marseillese cannon from the Carrousel, pointed by
+a gunner of bad aim, come rattling over the roofs! Ye
+Swiss, therefore: <i>Fire!</i> The Swiss fire; by volley, by
+platoon, in rolling fire: Marseillese men not a few, and
+'a tall man that was louder than any,' lie silent, smashed
+upon the pavement;&mdash;not a few Marseillese, after the
+long dusty march, have made halt <i>here</i>. The Carrousel
+is void; the black tide recoiling; 'fugitives rushing as
+far as Saint-Antoine before they stop'. The Cannoneers
+without linstock have squatted invisible, and left
+their cannon; which the Swiss seize....</p>
+
+<p>"Behold, the fire slackens not; nor does the Swiss
+rolling-fire slacken from within. Nay they clutched
+cannon, as we saw; and now, from the other side, they
+clutch three pieces more; alas, cannon without linstock;
+nor will the steel-and-flint answer, though they try it.
+Had it chanced to answer! Patriot onlookers have
+their misgivings; one strangest Patriot onlooker thinks
+that the Swiss, had they a commander, would beat.
+He is a man not unqualified to judge; the name of him
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span>
+Napoleon Buonaparte. And onlookers, and women,
+stand gazing, and the witty Dr. Moore of Glasgow
+among them, on the other side of the River: cannon
+rush rumbling past them; pause on the Pont Royal;
+belch out their iron entrails there, against the Tuileries;
+and at every new belch, the women and onlookers 'shout
+and clap hands'. City of all the Devils! In remote
+streets, men are drinking breakfast-coffee; following
+their affairs; with a start now and then, as some dull
+echo reverberates a note louder. And here? Marseillese
+fall wounded; but Barbaroux has surgeons; Barbaroux
+is close by, managing, though underhand and under
+cover. Marseillese fall death-struck; bequeath their
+firelock, specify in which pocket are the cartridges; and
+die murmuring, 'Revenge me, Revenge thy country!'
+Brest Fédéré Officers, galloping in red coats, are shot as
+Swiss. Lo you, the Carrousel has burst into flame!&mdash;Paris
+Pandemonium! Nay the poor City, as we said,
+is in fever-fit and convulsion: such crisis has lasted for
+the space of some half hour.</p>
+
+<p>"But what is this that, with Legislative Insignia,
+ventures through the hubbub and death-hail, from the
+back-entrance of the Manège? Towards the Tuileries
+and Swiss: written Order from his Majesty to cease
+firing! O ye hapless Swiss, why was there no order not
+to begin it? Gladly would the Swiss cease firing: but
+who will bid mad Insurrection cease firing? To Insurrection
+you cannot speak; neither can it, hydra-headed,
+hear. The dead and dying, by the hundred,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span>
+lie all around; are borne bleeding through the streets,
+towards help; the sight of them, like a torch of the
+Furies, kindling Madness. Patriot Paris roars; as the
+bear bereaved of her whelps. On, ye Patriots: Vengeance!
+Victory or death! There are men seen, who
+rush on, armed only with walking-sticks. Terror and
+Fury rule the hour.</p>
+
+<p>"The Swiss, pressed on from without, paralysed from
+within, have ceased to shoot; but not to be shot.
+What shall they do? Desperate is the moment.
+Shelter or instant death: yet How, Where? One
+party flies out by the Rue de l'Echelle; is destroyed
+utterly, '<i>en entier</i>'. A second, by the other side, throws
+itself into the Garden; 'hurrying across a keen fusillade';
+rushes suppliant into the National Assembly;
+finds pity and refuge in the back benches there. The
+third, and largest, darts out in column, three hundred
+strong, towards the Champs Elysées: 'Ah, could we
+but reach Courbevoye, where other Swiss are!' Wo!
+see, in such fusillade the column 'soon breaks itself by
+diversity of opinion,' into distracted segments, this way
+and that;&mdash;to escape in holes, to die fighting from street
+to street. The firing and murdering will not cease;
+not yet for long. The red Porters of Hôtels are shot
+at, be they <i>Suisse</i> by nature, or <i>Suisse</i> only in name....</p>
+
+<p>"Surely few things in the history of carnage are painfuller.
+What ineffaceable red streak, flickering so sad
+in the memory, is that, of this poor column of red Swiss
+'breaking itself in the confusion of opinions'; dispersing,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span>
+into blackness and death! Honour to you, brave
+men; honourable pity, through long times! Not
+martyrs were ye; and yet almost more. He was no
+King of yours, this Louis; and he forsook you like a
+King of shreds and patches: ye were but sold to him
+for some poor sixpence a-day; yet would ye work for
+your wages, keep your plighted word. The work now
+was to die; and ye did it. Honour to you, O Kinsmen."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="printemps" id="printemps"></a>
+<img src="images/i_170.jpg" width="650" height="430" alt="LE PRINTEMPS" />
+<p class="caption">LE PRINTEMPS<br />
+<span class="s2">ROUSSEAU</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Is that too dreadful an association for this spot? It
+is terrible; but to visit Paris without any historical interest
+is too materialistic a proceeding, and to have the
+historical interest in Paris and be afraid of a little blood
+is an untenable position. Paris is steeped in blood.</p>
+
+<p>The Tuileries had not seen all its riot yet; July 29th,
+1830, was to come, when, after another taste of monarchy,
+revived in 1814 after its murder on that appalling
+10th of August (which was virtually its death day, although
+the date of the birth of the First Republic stands
+as September 21st, 1793), the mob attacked the Palace,
+the last Bourbon king, Charles X., fled from it and from
+France, and Louis-Philippe of Orléans mounted the
+throne in his stead. But that was not all. Another
+seventeen and a half years and revengeful time saw
+Louis-Philippe, last of the Orléans kings, escaping in
+his turn from another besieging crowd, and the establishment
+of the Second Republic.</p>
+
+<p>During the Second Empire some of the old splendour
+returned, and it was here, at the Tuileries, that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span>
+Napoleon III. drew up many of his plans for the modern
+Paris that we now know; and then came the Prussian war
+and the Third Republic, and then the terrible Communard
+insurrection in the spring of 1871, in which the
+Tuileries disappeared for ever. Napoleon III., as I have
+said, assisted by Baron Haussmann, toiled in the great
+pacific task of renovating Paris, not with the imaginative
+genius of his uncle, but with an undeniable largeness
+and sagacity. He it was who added so greatly to the
+Louvre&mdash;all that part in fact opposite the Place du
+Palais Royal and the Magasins du Louvre as far west
+as the Rue de Rohan. A large portion of the corresponding
+wing on the river side was his too. But here
+is a list, since we are on the subject of modern Paris&mdash;which
+began with the great Napoleon's reconstruction
+of the ravages (beneficial for the most part) of the
+Revolutionaries&mdash;of
+the efforts made by each ruler since
+that epoch. I borrow the table from the Marquis de
+Rochegude.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon I.&mdash;Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, Vendôme
+Column, Façade du Corps Legislatif, Commencement
+of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, La Bourse,
+the Bridges d'Austerlitz, d'Iéna, des Arts, de la Cité,
+several Markets, Quais d'Orsay, de Billy, du Louvre,
+Montebello, de la Tournelle; the Eastern and Northern
+Cemeteries; numbering the houses in 1806, begun without
+success in 1728; pavements in the streets and
+doing away with the streams or flowing gutters in the
+middle of the streets." (How like Napoleon to get the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span>
+houses numbered on a clear system! Throughout Paris
+the odd numbers occupy one side of the street and the
+even the other. All are numbered from the Seine outwards.)</p>
+
+<p>"The Restoration.&mdash;Chapel Expiatoire, N.D. de
+Bonne-Nouvelle, N.D. de Lorette, St. Vincent de Paul;
+Bridges of the Invalides, of the Archbishopric, d'Arcole;
+Canals of St. Denis and St. Martin; fifty-five new streets;
+lighting by gas." (It was about 1828 that cabs came
+in. They were called fiacres from the circumstance that
+their originator carried on his business at the sign of
+the Grand St. Fiacre.)</p>
+
+<p>"Louis-Philippe, 1830-1848.&mdash;Finished the Madeleine,
+Arc de Triomphe, erected the Obelisk (Place de la Concorde),
+Column of July; Bridges: Louis-Philippe, Carrousel;
+Palace of the Quai d'Orsay; enlarged the Palais
+de Justice; restored Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle;
+Fountains: Louvois, Cuvier, St. Sulpice, Gaillon,
+Molière; opened the Museums of Cluny and the
+Thermes. In 1843&mdash;1,100 streets.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon III., 1852-1870.&mdash;Embellished Paris&mdash;execution
+of Haussmann's plans, twenty-two new boulevards;
+Streets Lafayette, Quatre-Septembre, de Turbigo; Bvd.
+St. Germain; Rues des Ecoles, de Rivoli, the Champs
+Elysées Quarter, the Avenues Friedland, Hoche, Kléber,
+the Marceau, de L'Impératrice, many squares; a part of
+new Louvre; Churches of St. Augustine, The Trinity,
+St. Ambroise, Ste. Clotilde (finishing of); Theatres,
+Châtelet, Lyrique, du Vaudeville; Tribunal of Commerce,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span>
+Hôtel Dieu, Barracks, Central Markets (also the
+ceinture railway); finishing of the Laribosière hospital,
+the Fountain of St. Michel, the Bridges of Solferino,
+L'Alma, the Pont au Change. In 1861, 1,667,841 inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>"The Commune.&mdash;Burning of the Tuileries, the
+Ministry of Finance, the Louvre Library, the Hôtel de
+Ville, the Palace of the Legion of Honour, the Palace
+of the Quai d'Orsay, the Lyric, the Châtelet and the
+Porte St. Martin theatres, etc.</p>
+
+<p>"The Republic.&mdash;Reconstruction of the buildings
+burnt by the Commune; Avenue de l'Opéra, the Opera
+House; Streets: Etienne Marcel, Réaumur, Avenue de la
+République, etc. In 1892, 4,090 streets, in 1902 there
+were 4,261 streets. The Exhibition 1878 left the Trocadero,
+and that of 1889 the Eiffel Tower, and that of
+1900 the two Palaces of the Champs-Elysées and the
+bridge Alexander III." (To this one should add the
+Métro, still uncompleted, which has the advantage over
+London's Tubes of being only just below the surface,
+so that no lift is needed.)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="carrousel" id="carrousel"></a>
+<img src="images/i_176.jpg" width="650" height="443" alt="THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL" />
+<p class="caption">THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL (WEST FAÇADE)</p></div>
+
+<p>The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, at the east end
+of the gardens, is a mere child compared with the Arc
+de Triomphe de l'Etoile, which stands there, so serenely
+and magnificently, at the end of the vista in the west,
+nearly two amazing miles away; it could be placed
+easily, with many feet to spare, under that greater
+monument's arch (as Victor Hugo's coffin was); but it
+is more beautiful. Both were the work of Napoleon,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span>
+both celebrate the victories of 1805-06. The Carrousel
+is surmounted by a triumphal car and four horses; but
+here again, as in the case of the statue of Henri IV.
+on the Pont Neuf, there have been ironical changes.
+Napoleon, when he ordained the arch, which was intended
+largely to reproduce that of Severus at Rome,
+ravished for its crowning the quadriga from St. Mark's
+at Venice: those glorious gleaming horses over the
+door. That was as it should be: he was a conqueror
+and entitled to the spoils of conquest. But after his
+fall came, as we have seen, a pedantic disgorgement of
+such treasure; the golden team trotted back to the
+Adriatic, and a new decoration had to be provided for
+the Carrousel. Hence the present one, which represents&mdash;what?
+It is almost inconceivable; but, Louis XVIII.
+having commissioned it, it represents the triumph no
+longer of Napoleon but of the Restoration! Amusing
+to remember this under the Third Republic, as one
+looks up at it and then at the bas-reliefs of the battle of
+Austerlitz, the peace of Tilsit, the capitulation of Ulm,
+the entry into Munich, the entry into Vienna and the
+peace of Pressburg. Time's revenges indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Standing under the Arc du Carrousel one makes the
+interesting but disappointing discovery that the Arc de
+Triomphe, the column of Luxor in the Place de la
+Concorde, the fountain, the Arc du Carrousel, the
+Gambetta monument and the Pavillon Sully of the
+Louvre do not form a straight line, as by all the laws of
+French architectural symmetry they should&mdash;especially
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span>
+here, where compasses and rulers seem to have been
+at work on every inch of the ground, and, as I have
+ascertained, general opinion considers them to do. All
+is well, from the west, until the Arc du Carrousel; it is
+the Gambetta and the Pavilion Sully that throw it out.</p>
+
+<p>The Gambetta! This monument fascinates me, not
+by its beauty nor because I have any especial reverence
+for the statesman; but simply by the vigour of his
+clothes, the frock coat and the light overcoat of the
+flamboyant orator, holding forth for evermore (or until
+his hour strikes), urgent and impetuous and French.
+To the frock coat in sculpture we in London are no
+strangers, for have we not Parliament Square? but
+our frock coats are quiescent, dead even, things of
+stone. Gambetta's, on the contrary, is tempestuous&mdash;surely
+the most heroic frock coat that ever emerged
+from the quarries of Carrara. It might have been cut
+by the Great Mel himself.</p>
+
+<p>I have never seen a computation of the stone and
+bronze population of Paris, but the statues must be
+thousands strong. A Pied Piper leading them out of
+the city would be worth seeing, although I for one
+would regret their loss. Paris, I suppose, was Paris no
+less than now in the days before Gambetta masqueraded
+as a Frock Coated Victory almost within hail of the
+Winged Victory of Samothrace; but Paris certainly
+would not be Paris any more were some new turn of
+the wheel to whisk him away and leave the Place du
+Carrousel forlorn and tepid. The loss even of the smug
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>
+figure of Jules Simon, just outside Durand's, would be
+something like a bereavement. I once, by the way,
+saw this statue wearing, after a snowstorm, a white fur
+cap and cape that gave him a character&mdash;something
+almost Siberian&mdash;beyond anything dreamed of by the
+sculptor.</p>
+
+<p>It is not until one has walked through the gardens
+of the Tuileries that the wealth of statuary in Paris
+begins to impress the mind. For there must be almost
+as many statues as flowers. They shine or glimmer
+everywhere, as in the Athenian groves&mdash;allegorical,
+symbolical, mythological, naked. The Luxembourg
+Gardens, as we shall see, are hardly less rich, but there
+one finds the statues of real persons. Here, as becomes
+a formal garden projected by a king, realism is excluded.
+Formal it is in the extreme; the trees are sternly
+pollarded, the beds are mathematically laid out, the
+paths are straight and not to be deviated from. None
+the less on a hot summer's day there are few more delightful
+spots, with the placid bonnes sitting so solidly,
+as only French women can sit, over their needlework,
+and their charges flitting like discreet butterflies all
+around them; and here are two old philosophers&mdash;another
+Bouvard and Pécuchet&mdash;discussing some problem
+of conduct or science, and there a family party lunching
+heartily, without shame. Pleasant groves, pleasant
+people!</p>
+
+<p>But the best thing in the Tuileries is M. Pol. Who
+is M. Pol? Well, he may not be the most famous man
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span>
+in Paris, but he is certainly the most engaging. M. Pol
+is the charmer of birds&mdash;"Le Charmeur d'oiseaux au
+Jardin des Tuileries," to give him his full title. There
+may be other charmers too at their pretty labours; but
+M. Pol comes easily first: his personality is so attractive,
+his terms of intercourse with the birds so intimate.
+His oiseaux are chiefly sparrows, whom he knows by
+name&mdash;La Princesse, Le Loustic, Garibaldi, La Baronne,
+l'Anglais, and so forth. They come one by one at his
+call, and he pets them and praises them; talks pretty
+ironical talk; uses them (particularly the little brown
+l'Anglais) for sly satirical purposes, for there are
+usually a few English spectators; affects to admonish
+and even chastise them, shuffling minatory feet with all
+the noise but none of the illusion of seriousness; and
+never ceases the while to scatter his crumbs or seeds of
+comfort. It is a very charming little drama, and although
+carried on every day, and for some hours every
+day, it has no suggestion of routine; one feels that the
+springs of it are sweetness and benevolence.</p>
+
+<p>He is a typical elderly Latin, this M. Pol, a little
+unmindful as to his dress, a little inclined to shamble:
+humorous, careless, gentle. When I first saw him, years
+ago, he fed his birds and went his way: but he now
+makes a little money by it too, now and then offering,
+very reluctantly, postcards bearing pictures of himself
+with all his birds about him and a distich or so from
+his pen. For M. Pol is a poet in words as well as
+deeds: "De nos petits oiseaux," he writes on one card:&mdash;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+"De nos petits oiseaux, je suis le bienfaiteur,<br />
+Et je vais tous les jours leur donner la pâture,<br />
+Mais suivant un contrat dicté par la nature<br />
+Quand je donne mon pain, ils me donnent leur c&oelig;ur."<br /></p>
+
+<p>I think this true. It is a little more than cupboard
+love that inspires these tiny creatures, or they would
+never settle on M. Pol's hands and shoulders as they do.
+He has charmed the pigeons also; but here he admits
+to a lower motive:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+"Ils savent, les malins, que leur couvert est mis,<br />
+C'est en faisant du bien qu'on se fait des amis."</p>
+
+<p>It amused me one day at the Louvre to fix one of
+these photographs in the frame of Giotto's picture of
+St. Francis (in Salle VII.), one of the scenes of which
+shows him preaching to the birds, thus bridging the
+gulf between the centuries and making for the moment
+the Assisi of the Saint and the Paris of M. Briand one.</p>
+
+<p>London has its noticeable lovers of animals too&mdash;you
+may see in St. Paul's churchyard in the dinner hour
+isolated figures surrounded and covered by pigeons: the
+British Museum courtyard also knows one or two, and
+the Guildhall: quite like Venice, both of them, save
+that no one is excited about it; while in St. James's
+Square may be seen at all hours of every day the
+mysterious cat woman with her pensioners all about
+her on their little mats. Every city has these humorists&mdash;shall
+I say? using the word as it was wont to be
+used long ago. But M. Pol&mdash;M. Pol stands alone. It
+is not merely that he charms the birds but that he is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>
+so charming with them. The pigeon feeders of London
+whom I have watched bring their maize, distribute it and
+go. M. Pol is more of a St. Francis than that: as I
+have shown, he converses, jokes and exchanges moods
+with his friends.</p>
+
+<p>Although he is acquainted with pigeons, his real friends
+are the gamins of the air, the sparrows, true Parisians,
+who have the best news. Pigeons, one can conceive,
+pick up a fact here and there, but it would have a
+foreign or provincial flavour. Now if there is one thing
+which bores a true Parisian it is talk of what is happening
+outside Paris. The Parisian's horizons do not extend
+beyond his city. The sun for him rises out of the Bois
+de Vincennes, and evening comes because it has sunk into
+the Bois de Boulogne. Hence M. Pol's wisdom in choosing
+the sparrow for his companion, his oiseau intime.</p>
+
+<p>So far had I written when I chanced to walk into
+London by way of Hyde Park, and there, just by the
+Achilles statue, was a charming gentleman in a tall
+white hat whistling a low whistle to a little band of
+sparrows who followed him and surrounded him and
+fluttered up, one by one, to his hand. We talked a
+little together, and he told me that the birds never forget
+him, though he is absent for eight months each year.
+His whistle brings them at once. So London is all right
+after all. And I have been told delightful things about
+the friends of the grey squirrels in Central Park; so
+New York perhaps is all right too.</p>
+
+<p>The Round Pond of Paris is at the Tuileries&mdash;not so
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span>
+vast as the <i>mare clausum</i> of Kensington Gardens, but
+capable of accommodating many argosies. Leaving this
+Pond behind us and making for the Place de la Concorde,
+we have on the right the remains of a monastery of the
+Cistercians, one of the many religious houses which stood
+all about the north of the Gardens at the time of the
+Revolution and were first discredited and emptied by
+the votaries of Reason and then swept away by Napoleon
+when he made the Rue de Rivoli. The building on
+the left is the Orangery. It is in this part that the
+temporary pavilions are erected for the banquets to provincial
+mayors and such pleasant ceremonies, while in
+the summer some little exhibition is usually in progress.</p>
+
+<p>But what is that sound? The beating of a drum.
+We must hasten to the gates, for that means closing
+time.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_ix" id="chapter_ix"></a>CHAPTER IX<br />
+THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE&mdash;THE CHAMPS-ELYSÉES
+AND THE INVALIDES</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A Dangerous Crossing&mdash;An Ill-omened Place&mdash;Louis the XVI. in
+Prosperity and Adversity&mdash;January 21st, 1793&mdash;The End of
+Robespierre&mdash;The Luxor Column&mdash;The Congress of Wheels&mdash;England
+and France&mdash;The Champs Elysées&mdash;The Parc Monceau&mdash;A Terrestrial
+Paradise&mdash;Oriental Museums&mdash;The Etoile's Tributaries&mdash;The
+Arc de Triomphe&mdash;The Avenue du Bois de Boulogne&mdash;A
+Vast Pleasure-ground&mdash;Happy Sundays&mdash;Longchamp&mdash;The
+Pari-mutuel&mdash;Spotting a Winner&mdash;Two Crowded Corners&mdash;The
+Rival Salons&mdash;The Palais des Beaux-Arts&mdash;Dutch Masters&mdash;Modern
+French Painters&mdash;Superb Drawing&mdash;Fairies among the
+Statues&mdash;The Pont Alexandre III.&mdash;The Fairs of Paris&mdash;A
+Vast Alms-house&mdash;A Model Museum&mdash;Relics of Napoleon&mdash;The
+Second Funeral of Napoleon&mdash;The Tomb of Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The Place de la Concorde by day is vast rather
+than beautiful, and by night it is a congress
+of lamps. By both it is dangerous, and in bad weather
+as exposed as the open sea. But it is sacred ground
+and Paris is unthinkable without it. The interest of the
+Place is summed up in the Luxor column, which may
+perhaps be said to mark what is perhaps the most
+critical site in modern history; for where the obelisk
+now stands stood not so very long ago the guillotine.</p>
+
+<p>The Place's name has been Concorde only since 1830
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span>
+It began in 1763, when a bronze statue of Louis XV.
+on horseback was erected there, surrounded by emblematic
+figures, from the chisel of Pigalle, of Prudence,
+Justice, Force and Peace. Hence the characteristic
+French epigram:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+"O la belle statue, O le beau piédestal!<br />
+Les Vertus sont à pied, le Vice est à cheval."
+</p>
+
+<p>Before this time the Place had been an open and uncultivated
+space; it was now enclosed, surrounded with
+fosses, made trim, and called La Place Louis Quinze.
+In 1770, however, came tragedy; for on the occasion of
+the marriage of the Dauphin, afterwards the luckless
+Louis XVI., with the equally luckless Marie Antoinette,
+a display of fireworks was given, during which one of
+the rockets (as one always dreads at every display)
+declined the sky and rushed horizontally into the crowd,
+and in the resulting stampede thousands of persons fell
+into the ditches, twelve hundred being killed outright
+and two thousand injured.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-two years later, kings having suddenly become
+cheap, the National Convention ordered the statue
+of Louis XV. to be melted down and recast into cannon,
+a clay figure of Liberté to be set up in its stead, and
+the name to be changed to the Place de la Révolution.
+This was done, and a little later the guillotine was erected
+a few yards west of the spot where the Luxor column
+now stands, primarily for the removal of the head of
+Louis XVI., in whose honour those unfortunate fireworks
+had been ignited. The day was January 21st, 1793.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"King Louis," says Carlyle, "slept sound, till five
+in the morning, when Cléry, as he had been ordered,
+awoke him. Cléry dressed his hair: while this went
+forward, Louis took a ring from his watch, and kept
+trying it on his finger; it was his wedding-ring, which
+he is now to return to the Queen as a mute farewell.
+At half-past six, he took the Sacrament; and continued
+in devotion, and conference with Abbé Edgeworth. He
+will not see his Family: it were too hard to bear.</p>
+
+<p>"At eight, the Municipals enter: the King gives
+them his Will, and messages and effects; which they,
+at first, brutally refuse to take charge of: he gives them
+a roll of gold pieces, a hundred and twenty-five louis;
+these are to be returned to Malesherbes, who had lent
+them. At nine, Santerre says the hour is come. The
+King begs yet to retire for three minutes. At the end
+of three minutes, Santerre again says the hour is come.
+'Stamping on the ground with his right-foot, Louis
+answers: "<i>Partons</i>, Let us go."'&mdash;How the rolling
+of those drums comes in, through the Temple bastions
+and bulwarks, on the heart of a queenly wife; soon to
+be a widow! He is gone, then, and has not seen us?
+A Queen weeps bitterly; a King's Sister and Children.
+Over all these Four does Death also hover: all shall
+perish miserably save one; she, as Duchesse d'Angoulême,
+will live,&mdash;not happily.</p>
+
+<p>"At the Temple Gate were some faint cries, perhaps
+from voices of pitiful women: '<i>Grâce! Grâce!</i>' Through
+the rest of the streets there is silence as of the grave.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>
+No man not armed is allowed to be there: the armed,
+did any even pity, dare not express it, each man overawed
+by all his neighbours. All windows are down,
+none seen looking through them. All shops are shut.
+No wheel-carriage rolls, this morning, in these streets but
+one only. Eighty thousand armed men stand ranked,
+like armed statues of men; cannons bristle, cannoneers
+with match burning, but no word or movement: it
+is as a city enchanted into silence and stone: one carriage
+with its escort, slowly rumbling, is the only sound.
+Louis reads, in his Book of Devotion, the Prayers of
+the Dying: clatter of this death-march falls sharp on
+the ear, in the great silence; but the thought would fain
+struggle heavenward, and forget the Earth.</p>
+
+<p>"As the clocks strike ten, behold the Place de la
+Révolution, once Place de Louis Quinze: the Guillotine,
+mounted near the old Pedestal where once stood the
+Statue of that Louis! Far round, all bristles with
+cannons and armed men: spectators crowding in the
+rear; D'Orléans Egalité there in cabriolet. Swift messengers,
+<i>hoquetons</i>, speed to the Townhall, every three
+minutes: near by is the Convention sitting,&mdash;vengeful
+for Lepelletier. Heedless of all, Louis reads his Prayers
+of the Dying; not till five minutes yet has he finished;
+then the Carriage opens. What temper he is in? Ten
+different witnesses will give ten different accounts of it.
+He is in the collision of all tempers; arrived now at the
+black Maelstrom and descent of Death: in sorrow, in
+indignation, in resignation struggling to be resigned.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>
+'Take care of M. Edgeworth,' he straitly charges the
+Lieutenant who is sitting with them: then they two
+descend.</p>
+
+<p>"The drums are beating: '<i>Taisez-vous</i>, Silence!'
+he cries 'in a terrible voice, <i>d'une voix terrible</i>'. He
+mounts the scaffold, not without delay; he is in puce
+coat, breeches of gray, white stockings. He strips off
+the coat; stands disclosed in a sleeve-waistcoat of white
+flannel. The Executioners approach to bind him: he
+spurns, resists; Abbé Edgeworth has to remind him
+how the Saviour, in whom men trust, submitted to be
+bound. His hands are tied, his head bare, the fatal
+moment is come. He advances to the edge of the
+Scaffold, 'his face very red,' and says: 'Frenchmen, I
+die innocent: it is from the Scaffold and near appearing
+before God that I tell you so. I pardon my enemies:
+I desire that France&mdash;&mdash;' A General on horseback,
+Santerre or another, prances out, with uplifted hand:
+'<i>Tambours!</i>' The drums drown the voice. Executioners,
+do your duty!' The Executioners, desperate
+lest themselves be murdered (for Santerre and his Armed
+Ranks will strike, if they do not), seize the hapless
+Louis: six of them desperate, him singly desperate,
+struggling there; and bind him to their plank. Abbé
+Edgeworth, stooping, bespeaks him: 'Son of Saint
+Louis, ascend to Heaven'. The Axe clanks down; a
+King's Life is shorn away. It is Monday the 21st of
+January, 1793. He was aged Thirty-eight years, four
+months and twenty-eight days.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="vieux" id="vieux"></a>
+<img src="images/i_190.jpg" width="465" height="650" alt="VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT" />
+<p class="caption">VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT<br />
+<span class="s2">GHIRLANDAIO</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Executioner Samson shows the Head: fierce shout
+of <i>Vive la République</i> rises, and swells; caps raised on
+bayonets, hats waving; students of the College of Four
+Nations take it up, on the far Quais; fling it over Paris.
+D'Orléans drives off in his cabriolet: the Townhall
+Councillors rub their hands, saying, 'It is done, It is
+done'. There is dipping of handkerchiefs, of pike-points
+in the blood. Headsman Samson, though he
+afterwards denied it, sells locks of the hair: fractions of
+the puce coat are long after worn in rings.&mdash;And so, in
+some half-hour it is done; and the multitude has all
+departed. Pastry-cooks, coffee-sellers, milkmen sing out
+their trivial quotidian cries: the world wags on, as if
+this were a common day. In the coffee-houses that
+evening, says Prudhomme, Patriot shook hands with
+Patriot in a more cordial manner than usual. Not till
+some days after, according to Mercier, did public men
+see what a grave thing it was."</p>
+
+<p>The guillotine for more ordinary purposes worked in
+the Place du Carrousel, not far from Gambetta's statue
+to-day; but from May, 1793, until June, 1794, it was
+back in the Place de la Concorde (then Place de la
+Révolution) again, accounting during that time for no
+fewer than 1,235 offenders, including Charlotte Corday,
+Madame Roland and Marie Antoinette. The blood
+flowed daily, while the tricoteuses looked on over their
+knitting and the mob howled.</p>
+
+<p>Another removal, to the Place de la Bastille, and then
+on 28th July, 1794, the engine of justice or vengeance
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>
+was back again to end a life and the Reign of Terror
+in one blow. What life? But listen: "Robespierre,"
+lay in an anteroom of the Convention Hall, while his
+Prison-escort was getting ready; the mangled jaw bound
+up rudely with bloody linen: a spectacle to men. He
+lies stretched on a table, a deal-box his pillow; the
+sheath of the pistol is still clenched convulsively in his
+hand. Men bully him, insult him: his eyes still indicate
+intelligence; he speaks no word. 'He had on the sky-blue
+coat he had got made for the Feast of the <i>Être
+Suprême</i>'&mdash;O Reader, can thy hard heart hold out
+against that? His trousers were nankeen; the stockings
+had fallen down over the ankles. He spake no word
+more in this world.</p>
+
+<p>"And so, at six in the morning, a victorious Convention
+adjourns. Report flies over Paris as on golden wings;
+penetrates the Prisons; irradiates the faces of those
+that were ready to perish: turnkeys and <i>moutons</i>, fallen
+from their high estate, look mute and blue. It is the
+28th day of July, called 10th of Thermidor, year 1794.</p>
+
+<p>"Fouquier had but to identify; his Prisoners being
+already Out of Law. At four in the afternoon, never
+before were the streets of Paris seen so crowded. From
+the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Révolution,
+for <i>thither</i> again go the Tumbrils this time, it is one
+dense stirring mass; all windows crammed; the very
+roofs and ridge-tiles budding forth human Curiosity,
+in strange gladness. The Death-tumbrils, with their
+motley Batch of Outlaws, some twenty-three or so,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span>
+from Maximilien to Mayor Fleuriot and Simon the
+Cordwainer, roll on. All eyes are on Robespierre's
+Tumbril, where he, his jaw bound in dirty linen, with his
+half-dead Brother and half-dead Henriot, lie shattered;
+their 'seventeen hours' of agony about to end. The
+Gendarmes point their swords at him, to show the
+people which is he. A woman springs on the Tumbril;
+clutching the side of it with one hand, waving the other
+Sibyl-like; and exclaims: 'The death of thee gladdens
+my very heart, <i>m'enivre de joie</i>'; Robespierre opened
+his eyes; '<i>Scélérat</i>, go down to Hell, with the curses
+of all wives and mothers!'&mdash;At the foot of the scaffold,
+they stretched him on the ground till his turn came.
+Lifted aloft, his eyes again opened; caught the bloody
+axe. Samson wrenched the coat off him; wrenched the
+dirty linen from his jaw: the jaw fell powerless, there
+burst from him a cry;&mdash;hideous to hear and see. Samson,
+thou canst not be too quick!</p>
+
+<p>"Samson's work done, there bursts forth shout on
+shout of applause. Shout, which prolongs itself not
+only over Paris, but over France, but over Europe, and
+down to this generation. Deservedly, and also undeservedly.
+O unhappiest Advocate of Arras, wert thou
+worse than other Advocates? Stricter man, according
+to his Formula, to his Credo and his Cant, of probities,
+benevolences, pleasures-of-virtue, and suchlike, lived not
+in that age. A man fitted, in some luckier settled age,
+to have become one of those incorruptible barren Pattern-Figures,
+and have had marble-tablets and funeral-sermons.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span>
+His poor landlord, the Cabinet-maker in the
+Rue Saint-Honoré, loved him; his Brother died for him.
+May God be merciful to him and to us!</p>
+
+<p>"This is the end of the Reign of Terror."</p>
+
+<p>In 1799 the Place won its name Concorde. The
+next untoward sight that it was to see was Prussian and
+Russian soldiers encamping there in 1814 and 1815, and
+in 1815 the British. By this time it had been renamed
+Place Louis Quinze, which in 1826 was changed to Place
+Louis Seize, and a project was afoot for raising a monument
+to that monarch's memory on the spot where he
+fell. But the Revolution of 1830 intervened, and "Concorde"
+resumed its sway, and in 1836 Louis-Philippe,
+the new king (whose father, Philippe Egalité, had
+perished on the guillotine here), erected the Luxor
+column, which had been given to him by Mohammed
+Ali, and had once stood before the great temple of
+Thebes commemorating on its sides the achievements
+of Rameses II. Since then certain symbolic statues of
+the great French cities (including unhappy Strassburg)
+have been set up, and the Place is a model of symmetry;
+and at the time that I write (1909) a great part of it
+is enclosed within hoardings for I know not what purpose,
+but I hope a subway for the saving of the lives of
+pedestrians, for it must be the most perilous crossing in
+the world. One has but to set foot in the roadway and
+straightway motor-cars and cabs spring out of the earth
+and converge upon one from every point of the compass,
+in the amazing French way. Concorde, indeed!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a name="concorde" id="concorde"></a>
+<img src="images/i_196.jpg" width="650" height="417" alt="THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="flleft s2">AUTOMOBILE CLUB</span>
+<span class="center s2">THE MADELEINE</span>
+<span class="flright s2">MINISTÈRE DE LA MARINE</span><br />
+THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE<br />
+<span class="s2">(LOOKING NORTH)</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>
+If the Place de la Concorde may be called at night a
+congress of lamps, the Champs-Elysées in the afternoon
+may be said to be a congress of wheels. Wheels in such
+numbers and revolving at such a pace are never seen in
+England, not even on the Epsom road on Derby Day.
+For there is no speed limit for the French motor-car.
+Nor have we in England anything like this superb
+roadway, so wide and open, climbing so confidently to
+the Arc de Triomphe, with its groves on either side at
+the foot, and the prosperous white mansions afterwards.
+It is not our way. We English, with our ambition to
+conquer and administer the world, have neglected our
+own home; the French, with no ambition any longer
+to wander beyond their own borders, have made their
+home beautiful. The energy which we as a nation put
+into greater Britain, they have put into buildings, into
+statues, into roads. The result is that we have the
+Transvaal, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and India,
+but it is the French, foregoing such possessions and all
+their anxieties, who have the Champs-Elysées.</p>
+
+<p>The Champs-Elysées were planned and laid out by
+Marie de Médicis in 1616, and the Cours la Reine, her
+triple avenue of trees, still exists; but Napoleon is the
+father of the scheme which culminates so magnificently
+in the Arc de Triomphe. The particular children's
+paradise of Paris is in the gardens between the main
+road and the Elysée, where they bowl their hoops and
+spin their Diabolo spools, and ride on the horses of
+minute round-abouts turned by hand, and watch the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>
+marionettes, with the tired eyes of Alphonse Daudet,
+who sits for ever, close by, in very white stone, watching
+them. Here also are the open-air cafés, the Ambassadeurs
+and the Alcazar, while on the other, the river, side
+are the Jardin de Paris, a curiously Lutetian haunt, and
+Ledoyen's, one of the pleasantest of restaurants in summer.</p>
+
+<p>Just above this point we ought to turn to the left to
+visit the Petit Palais and cross the Pont Alexandre
+III., but since we are on the way let us now climb to
+the Etoile, and on to the Bois, first, however, just turning
+off the Rond-Point for a moment to look at No. 3
+Avenue Matignon, where Heine (beside whose grave we
+are to stand on Montmartre) suffered and died.</p>
+
+<p>The Place de l'Etoile might be called a kind of gilt-edged
+Seven Dials, since so many roads lead from it.
+Aristocratic Paris comes to a head here. On the right
+runs from it the Avenue de Friedland, leading to the
+Boulevard Haussmann, which meets with so inglorious an
+end at the Rue Taitbout, but is perhaps to be cut
+through to join the Boulevard Montmartre. Next on
+the right is the Avenue Hoche, running directly into
+the Parc Monceau, a terrestrial paradise to which good
+mondaines certainly go when they die. A little appartement
+overlooking the Parc Monceau&mdash;there is tangible
+heaven, if you like!</p>
+
+<p>The Parc itself is small but perfect, elegant and expensive
+and verdant. The children (one feels) are all
+titled, the bonnes are visibly miracles of distinction and
+the babies masses of point lace; the ladies on the chairs
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span>
+must be Comtesses or Baronnes, and the air is carefully
+scented. That is the Parc Monceau. It needed but one
+detail to make it complete, and that was supplied a few
+years ago: a statue of Guy de Maupassant, consisting
+of a block of the most radiant marble to be procured,
+with the novelist as its apex, and at the base a Parisienne
+reading one of his stories. Other statues there
+are: of Ambroise Thomas the composer, to whom Mignon
+offers a floral tribute; of Pailleron the dramatist, attended
+by an actress; of Gounod surrounded by Marguerite,
+Juliet, Sappho and a little Love; and of Chopin
+seated at the piano, with the figures of Night and
+Harmony to inspire him. These are only a few; but
+they are typical. Every statue in the Parc has a
+damsel or two, according to his desire. It is the mode.
+There is also a minute lake, on the edge of which have
+been set up a number of Corinthian columns; and before
+you have been seated a minute, an old woman appears
+from nowhere and demands twopence for what she
+poetically calls an armchair, the extra penny being
+added as a compliment to the two uncomfortable wires
+at the side which you had been wishing you could break
+off. Such is the Parc Monceau, the like of which exists
+not in London: the ideal pleasaunce of the wealthy.
+Through it, I might add, you may drive; but only at
+a walking pace&mdash;<i>au pas</i>. If the horse were to trot he
+might shake some petals off.</p>
+
+<p>At the western gate is the Musée Cernuschi, containing
+a collection of oriental pottery and bronzes. I am
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>
+no connoisseur of these beautiful things, but I advise
+all readers of this book to visit both this museum and
+the Guimet in the Place d'Iéna, which is a treasury of
+Japanese and Chinese art.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the Etoile, the next avenue is the Avenue
+de Wagram, running north to the Porte d'Asnières,
+while that which continues the Avenue des Champs-Elysées
+in a straight line west by north is the Avenue
+de la Grande Armée, running to the Porte Maillot and
+Neuilly. On the left the first avenue is the Avenue
+Marceau, which leads to the Place de l'Alma; the next
+the Avenue d'Iéna, leading to the Place d'Iéna; the
+next, the Avenue Kléber, running straight to the Trocadéro
+(into which I have never penetrated) and Passy,
+where the English live; the next, the Avenue Victor
+Hugo, which never stops; and finally the Avenue du Bois
+de Boulogne, the most beautiful roadway in new Paris,
+along which we shall fare when we have examined the
+Arc de Triomphe.</p>
+
+<p>This trophy of success was begun, as I have said, by
+Napoleon to celebrate the victories of 1805 and 1806;
+Louis-Philippe finished it in 1836. Why Louis XVIII.
+did not destroy it or complete it as a further memorial
+of the Restoration, I cannot say. Napoleon's original
+idea was, however, tampered with by his successors, who
+allowed a bas-relief representing the Blessings of Peace
+in 1815 to be included. The sculptures are otherwise
+wholly devoted to the glorification of war, Napoleon
+and the French army; but they are not to be studied
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span>
+without serious inconvenience. My advice to the conscientious
+student would be to buy photographs or
+picture postcards, and examine them at home: the Arc
+de Triomphe is too great and splendid for such detail.
+From the top one can see all round Paris, and though
+one cannot look down on it all as from the Eiffel Tower,
+or see, beneath one, such an interesting district as from
+Notre Dame, it is yet a wonderfully interesting view.</p>
+
+<p>The Avenue du Bois de Boulogne has the finest road
+in what is, so to speak, the Marais of the present day;
+that is to say, in the modern quarter of the aristocratic
+and wealthy. We have seen riches and rank moving
+from the Marais to the Faubourg St. Germain and from
+the Faubourg St. Germain to the Faubourg St. Honoré,
+and now we find them here, and here they seem likely
+to remain. And indeed to move farther would be
+foolish, for surely there never was, and could not be, a
+more beautiful city site than this anywhere in the world&mdash;with
+its wide cool lawns on either side, and its gay
+colouring, and the Bois so near. Here too, on the heads
+of the comfortable complacent bonnes, are the most
+radiant caps you ever saw.</p>
+
+<p>The Bois de Boulogne, which takes its name from the
+little town of Boulogne to the south of it, now a suburb
+of Paris, began its life as a Paris park in the eighteen-fifties.
+Before that it was a forest of great trees, which
+indeed remained until the Franco-Prussian war, when
+they were cut down in order that they might not give
+cover to the enemy. That is why the present groves
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>
+are all of a size. I cannot describe the Bois better than
+by saying that it is as if Hyde Park, Sandown Park,
+Kempton Park, and Epping Forest were all thrown
+together between Shepherd's Bush, Acton and the river.
+London would then have something like the Bois; and
+yet it would not be like the Bois at all, because it would
+rapidly become a desert of newspapers and empty bottles,
+whereas, although in the summer populous with picnic
+parties, the Bois is always clean and fresh.</p>
+
+<p>There are several gates to the Bois, but the principal
+ones are the Porte Maillot at the end of the Avenue de
+la Grande Armée, and the Porte Dauphine at the end
+of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and it is through
+the latter that the thousands of vehicles pass on their
+way to the races on happy Sundays in the spring and
+autumn. Most English people visiting the Bois merely
+drive to the races and back again; it is quite the exception
+to find any one who really knows the Bois&mdash;who
+has walked round the two lakes, Lac Inférieur,
+which feeds the cascade under which one may walk (as
+at Niagara), and Lac Supérieur; who has seen a play
+in the Théâtre de Verdure, or an exhibition at Bagatelle,
+the villa of the late Sir Richard Wallace, who gave the
+Champs-Elysées its drinking fountains and London the
+Wallace Collection. Bagatelle now belongs to Paris.
+Every English visitor, however, remembers the stone
+animals, dogs and deer, in the lawn of the Villa de
+Longchamp on the right as one approaches the race-course,
+and the windmill on the left, one of the several
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>
+inoperative windmills of Paris, which marks the site of
+the old Abbey of Longchamp, founded by Isabella, the
+sister of Saint Louis.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="venus" id="venus"></a>
+<img src="images/i_204.jpg" width="537" height="650" alt="VÉNUS ET L&#39;AMOUR" />
+<p class="caption">VÉNUS ET L&#39;AMOUR<br />
+<span class="s2">REMBRANDT</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>The Bois has two restaurants of the highest quality
+and price&mdash;Armenonville, close to the Porte Maillot, a
+favourite dining-place when the Fête de Neuilly is in
+progress, in the summer, and the Pré Catelan, near Lac
+Inférieur and close to the point where the Allée de la
+Reine-Marguerite and the Allée de Longchamp cross.
+In the summer it is quite the thing for the young
+bloods who frequent the night cafés on Montmartre to
+drive into the Bois in the early morning and drink a
+glass of milk in the Pré Catelan's dairy, perhaps bringing
+the milkmaids with them.</p>
+
+<p>The Bois has two race-courses, but it is at Longchamp
+that the principal races are run&mdash;the Grand Prix and
+the Conseil Municipal. Racing men tell me that the
+defect of the pari-mutuel system is that one cannot arrange
+one's book, since the odds are always more or
+less of a surprise; but to one who does not bet on horses
+anywhere but in Paris, and who views an English bookmaker
+with alarm, if not positive terror, the pari-mutuel
+seems perfect in its easy and silent workings and the
+dramatic unfolding of its surprises. For first you have
+the fun of picking out your horse; then quietly putting
+your money on him, to win or for a place; and then,
+after the race is run and your horse is a winner, you
+have those five to ten delightfully anxious minutes while
+the actuaries are working out the odds.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span></p>
+
+<p>An experience of my own will illustrate not only the
+method of the system but the haphazard principles on
+which a stranger's modest gambling can be done. On
+the morning of the races I had visited the Louvre with
+Mr. Dexter, the artist of this book. We had not much
+time, and were therefore proposing to look only at the
+Leonardos and the Rembrandts, which are separated
+by a considerable stretch of gallery hung with other
+pictures. On leaving the Leonardos we walked briskly
+towards the Dutch end; Mr. Dexter, however, loitered
+here and there, and I was some distance ahead when he
+called me back to see a Holbein. It was worth going
+back for. In the afternoon at Longchamp, when the
+time came before the race to pick out the horses who
+were to have the honour of carrying my money, I noticed
+that one of them was named Holbein. Having already
+that day been pleased with a Holbein, I accepted the
+circumstance as a line of guidance, and placed a five-franc
+piece on the brave animal. He came in first, and
+being an outsider his price was 185.50.</p>
+
+<p>The Longchamp course is perfectly managed. There
+are three places where one may go&mdash;to the pesage,
+which costs twenty francs for a cavalier and ten francs
+for a dame; to the pavillon, which is half that price;
+or to the pelouse, where the people congregate, which
+costs a franc. Perfect order reigns everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>For the wanderer who has no carriage awaiting him
+and no appointments to hurry him there are two entertaining
+things to do when the races are over on a fine
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span>
+Sunday afternoon. One is to cross the Seine to Suresnes
+by the adjacent bridge and sitting at the café that faces
+it, watch the crowd and the traffic, for this is on a main
+road from Paris to the country; or walking the other
+way, one may enjoy a similar spectacle at the Café du
+Sport outside the Porte Maillot and study at one's ease
+the happy French in holiday mood&mdash;the husbands with
+their wives and their two children, and the Sunday
+lovers arm in arm.</p>
+
+<p>And now we return to the Champs-Elysées in order
+to look at some pictures and admire a beautiful bridge.
+For the Avenue Alexandre III., as for the Pont Alexandre
+III., Paris is indebted to the 1900 Exhibition.
+These are her permanent gains, and very valuable they
+are. Of the two white palaces on either side of this
+green and spacious Avenue, that on the right, as we
+face the golden dome of the Invalides, is the home of
+the Salon and of various exhibitions. I say Salon, but
+Paris now has many Salons, two of which, in more or
+less amicable rivalry, occupy this building at the same
+time. In one, the Salon proper, the Salon of the old
+guard, the Royal Academicians of France, there are
+miles of paint but few experiments; in the other, where
+the more independent spirits&mdash;the New Englishers, so
+to speak&mdash;hang their works in personal groups, there
+are fewer miles but more outrages. For outrages, however,
+pure and simple (or even impure and complex), I
+recommend the Salon that is now held in the early
+spring in some of the old Exhibition buildings on the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span>
+banks of the river, close to the Pont d'Alexandre III.
+I have seen pictures there&mdash;nudities, in the manner of
+Aztec decorations, by the youngest French artists of
+the moment&mdash;which made one want to scream. It was
+said once that the French knew how to paint but not
+what to paint, and the English what to paint but not
+how to paint it. Since then there has been such a fusing
+of nationalities, such increased and humble appreciation
+on the part of the English painters of the best French
+methods, that one can no longer talk in that kind of
+cast-iron epigram; but it is impossible to see some of
+the crude innovating work now being done without the
+reflection that France is rapidly and successfully creating
+a school of artists who not only know not what to paint
+but how to paint too.</p>
+
+<p>The Palais des Beaux-Arts, which was built for the
+collection of pictures at the Exhibition of 1900, is now
+a permanent gallery for the preservation of the various
+works of art acquired from time to time by the municipality
+of Paris, thus differing from the Luxembourg collections,
+which are national. The Palais has become a
+kind of brother of the Carnavalet, the one being the
+historical museum of Paris and the other&mdash;the Palais&mdash;the
+artistic museum of Paris. The Palais undoubtedly
+contains much that is not of the highest quality, but
+no one who is interested in modern French painting
+and drawing can afford to neglect it, while the recent
+acquisition of the Collection Dutuit, consisting chiefly of
+small but choice pictures of the Dutch masters, including
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span>
+a picture of Rembrandt with his dog, from his own
+hand, has added a rather necessary touch of antiquity.</p>
+
+<p>One of the special rooms is devoted to pictures of the
+opulent Félix Ziem, painter of Venetian sunsets and the
+sky at its most golden, wherever it may be found, who
+is still (1909) living in honourable state on those slopes
+of the mountain of fame which are reserved for the few
+rare spirits that become old masters before they die,
+and who presented his pictures to Paris a few years ago;
+another room is filled with the works of the late Jean
+Jacques Henner, whose pallid nudities, emerging from
+voluptuous gloom, still look yearningly at one from the
+windows of so many Paris picture dealers. Henner, I
+must confess, is not a painter whom I greatly esteem;
+but few modern French artists were more popular in
+their day. He died in 1905, and this gift of his work
+was made by his son. Other French artists to have
+rooms of their own in the Palais are Jean Carriès the
+sculptor, who died in 1894 at the age of thirty-nine,
+after an active career in the modelling of quaint and
+grotesque and realistic figures, one of the best known
+and most charming of his many works being "La Fillette
+au Pantin" (No. 1338 in the collection); and
+Jules Dalou (1838-1902), also a sculptor, a man of more
+vigour although of less charm than his neighbour in
+the Palais. That strange gift of untiring abundant
+creativeness which the French have so notably, Dalou
+also shared, his busy fingers having added thousands of
+new figures to those that already congest life, while he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span>
+modelled also many a well-known head. I think that
+I like best his "Esquisses de Travailleurs". Nothing
+here, however, is so fascinating as Dalou's own head by
+Rodin in the Luxembourg.</p>
+
+<p>Of the picture collection proper I am saying but
+little, for it is in a fluid state, and even in the catalogue
+before me, the latest edition, there is no mention of
+several of its finest treasures: among them Manet's
+portrait of Théodore Duret, a sketch of an old peasant
+woman's hand by Madame David, a Rip Van Winkle
+by that modern master of the grotesque and Rabelaisian,
+Jean Véber, and one of Mr. Sargent's Venetian sketches&mdash;the
+racing gondoliers. For the most part it is like
+revisiting the past few Salons, except that the pictures
+are more choice and less numerous; but one sees many
+old friends, and all the expected painters are here. It
+is of course the surprises that one remembers&mdash;the
+three Daumiers, for example, particularly "L'Amateur
+d'Estampes," reproduced <a href="#amateur">opposite page 286</a>, and "Les
+Joueurs d'Echecs," and the fine collection of the drawings
+of Puvis de Chavannes and Daniel Vierge. I was
+also much taken with some topographical drawings by
+Adrian Karbowski&mdash;No. 494 in the catalogue. Other
+pictures and drawings which should be seen are those by
+Cazin (a sunset), Pointelin, Steinlen (some work-girls),
+Sisley, Lebourg, and Harpignies, who exhibits water-colours
+separated in time by fifty-nine years, 1849 to 1908.
+The drawings on a whole are far better than the paintings.</p>
+
+<p>In the collection Dutuit look at Ruisdael's "Environs
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span>
+de Haarlem," Terburg's "La Fiancée," Hobbema's "Les
+Moulins" and a woodland scene, Pot's "Portrait of a
+Man," Van de Velde's landscape sketches, and the Rembrandt.
+The rooms downstairs are not worth visiting.</p>
+
+<p>Among the statuary, some of which is very good,
+particularly a new unsigned and uncatalogued Joan of
+Arc, is a naked Victor Hugo holding a MS. in his
+hand; while Frémiet of course confronts the door, this
+time with a really fine George and the Dragon, George
+having a spear worthy of the occasion, and not the short
+and useless broadsword which he brandishes on the
+English sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>On my last visit to this thinly populated gallery
+I was for some time one of three visitors, until suddenly
+the vast spaces were humanised by the gracious
+and winsome presence of a band of Isidora Duncan's
+gay little dancers, with a kindly companion to tell them
+about the pictures, and&mdash;what interested them more&mdash;the
+statues. These tiny lissome creatures flitting
+among the cold rigid marbles I shall not soon forget.</p>
+
+<p>And so we come to the Pont Alexandre III., the
+bridge whose width and radiance are an ever fresh surprise
+and joy, and make our way to the Invalides, at
+the end of the prospect, across the great Esplanade des
+Invalides, so quiet to-day, but for a month of every year,
+so noisy and variegated with round-abouts and booths.
+It is, by the way, well worth while, whenever one is
+in Paris, to find out what fair is being held. For somewhere
+or other a fair is always being held. You can
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span>
+get the particulars from the invaluable <i>Bottin</i> or <i>Bottin
+Mondain</i>, which every restaurant keeps, and which is
+even exposed to public scrutiny on a table at the Gare
+du Nord, and for all I know to the contrary, at the
+other stations too. This is one of the lessons which
+might be learned from Paris by London, where you ask
+in vain for a <i>Post Office Directory</i> in all but the General
+Post Office. <i>Bottin</i>, who knows all, will give you the
+time and place of every fair. The best is the Fête de
+Neuilly, which is held in the summer, just outside the
+Porte Maillot, but all the arrondissements have their
+own. They are crowded scenes of noisy life; but they
+are amusing too, and their popularity shows you how
+juvenile is the Frenchman's heart.</p>
+
+<p>One should enter the Invalides from the great Place
+and round off the inspection of the Musée de l'Armée
+by a visit to Napoleon's tomb; that, at least, is the
+symmetrical order. The Hôtel des Invalides proper,
+which set the fashion in military hospitals, was built by
+Louis XIV., who may be seen on his horse in bas-relief
+on the principal façade. The building once sheltered and
+tended 7,000 wounded soldiers; but there are now only
+fifty. From its original function as a military hospital
+for any kind of disablement it has dwindled to a home
+for a few incurables; while the greater portion of the
+building is now given up to collections and to civic offices.
+There could be no greater contrast than that between
+the imposing architecture of the main structure and the
+charming domestic façade in the Boulevard des Invalides,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span>
+which is one of the pleasantest of the old Paris buildings
+and has some of the simplicity of an English almshouse.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="pelerins" id="pelerins"></a>
+<img src="images/i_214.jpg" width="603" height="650" alt="LES PÈLERINS D&#39;EMMAÜS" />
+<p class="caption">LES PÈLERINS D&#39;EMMAÜS<br />
+<span class="s2">REMBRANDT</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>It is not until we enter the great Court of Honour
+that we catch sight of Napoleon, whose figure dominates
+the opposite wall. Thereafter one thinks of little else.
+Louis XIV. disappears.</p>
+
+<p>Passing some dingy frescoes which the weather has
+treated vilely, we enter the Musée Historique on the
+left&mdash;unless one has an overwhelming passion for
+artillery, armour and the weapons of savages, in which
+case one turns to the right. I mention the alternative
+because there is far too much to see on one visit, and it
+is well to concentrate on the more interesting. For me
+guns and armour and the weapons of savages are without
+any magic while there are to be seen such human
+relics as have been brought together in the Musée Historique
+on the opposite side of the Court. The whole
+place, by the way, is a model for the Carnavalet, in that
+everything is precisely and clearly labelled. This, since
+it is a favourite resort of simple folk&mdash;soldiers and their
+parents and sweethearts&mdash;is a thoughtful provision.</p>
+
+<p>The Musée Historique has at every turn something
+profoundly interesting, and incidentally it tells something
+of the men from whom numbers of Paris streets
+take their names; but the real and poignant interest is
+Napoleon. The Longwood room is to me too painful.
+The project of the admirable administrator has been to
+illustrate the whole pageant of French arms; but the
+Man of Destiny quickly becomes all-powerful, and one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span>
+finds oneself looking only for signs and tokens of his
+personality. So it should be, under the shadow of the
+Dome which covers his ashes. I would personally go
+farther and collect at the Invalides all the Napoleonic
+relics that one now must visit so many places to see&mdash;the
+Carnavalet, Fontainebleau, the Musée Grévin, our
+own United Service Museum in Whitehall (as if we had
+the right to a single article from St. Helena!), Madame
+Tussaud's, and Versailles. There is even a room at the
+Arts Décoratifs devoted nominally to Napoleon, but it has
+few articles of personal interest and none of any intimacy&mdash;merely
+splendid costumes for occasions and ceremonials
+of State, with a few of Josephine's lace caps among them.
+Its purpose is to illustrate the Empire rather than the
+Emperor, but the Invalides should have what there is.</p>
+
+<p>At the Invalides you may, I suppose, see in three or
+four rooms more Napoleonic relics of a personal character
+than anywhere else. In Whitehall is the chair he died
+in; but here is his garden-seat from St. Helena, one bar
+of which was removed to allow him as he sat to pass
+his arm through and be more at his ease as he looked
+out to the ocean that was to do nothing for him. At
+Whitehall is the skeleton of his horse Marengo; here
+is the saddle. Here are his grey redingote and more
+than one of his hats. Among the relics in the special
+Napoleonic rooms those of his triumph and his fall are
+mixed. Here is the bullet that wounded him at Ratisbon;
+here are his telescopes and his maps, his travelling
+desks and his pistols; here are the toys of the little Duke
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>
+of Reichstadt; here is the walking stick on which Napoleon
+leaned at St. Helena, his dressing-gown, his bed, his
+armchair and his death-mask. Here are the railings of
+the tomb at St. Helena, and a case of leaves and stones
+and pieces of wood and other natural surroundings of the
+same spot. Here also is the pall that covered his coffin
+on the way to its final burial under the Dome close by.</p>
+
+<p>It is a fitting end to the study of these storied corridors
+to pass to the tomb of the protagonist of the drama
+we have been contemplating. The Emperor's remains
+were brought to Paris in 1840, nineteen years after his
+death at St. Helena. Thackeray, in his <i>Second Funeral
+of Napoleon</i>, wrote a vivid, although to my mind hateful,
+description of the ceremonial: a piece of complacent
+flippancy, marked by the worst kind of French irreverence,
+which shows him in his least admirable mood,
+particularly when he is pleased to be amusing over the
+difference between the features of the Emperor dead
+and living. None the less it is an absorbing narrative.</p>
+
+<p>One looks down upon the sarcophagus, which lies in
+a marble well. It is simple, solemn and severe, and to
+a few persons, not Titmarshes, inexpressibly melancholy.
+The Emperor's words from his will, "Je désire que mes
+cendres reposent sur les bords de la Seine, au milieu de
+ce peuple français que j'ai tant aimé," are placed at the
+entrance to the crypt. He had not the Invalides in
+mind when he wrote them; but one feels that the
+Invalides is as right a spot for him as any in this land
+of short memories and light mockeries.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_x" id="chapter_x"></a>CHAPTER X<br />
+THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS TRIBUTARIES</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+An Aristocratic Quarter&mdash;Adrienne Lecouvreur&mdash;A Grisly Museum&mdash;A
+Changeless City&mdash;The Pasteur Institute&mdash;The Golden Key&mdash;The
+Stoppeur&mdash;Sterne&mdash;The Beaux Arts&mdash;A Wilderness of Copies&mdash;Voltaire
+Clad and Naked&mdash;The Mint&mdash;An Inquisitive Visitor&mdash;Bad
+Money.</p>
+
+<p>From the Invalides the Boulevard St. Germain,
+the west to east highway of the Surrey side of
+Paris, is easily gained; but it is not in itself very interesting.
+The interesting streets either cross it or run
+more or less parallel with it, such as the old and winding
+Rue de Grenelle, which we come to at once, the
+home of the Parisian aristocracy after its removal from
+the Marais. The houses are little changed: merely
+the tenants; and certain Embassies are now here. No.
+18 was once the Hôtel de Beauharnais, the home of the
+fair Joséphine; at the Russian Embassy, No. 79, the
+Duchesse d'Estrées lived. In an outhouse at No. 115
+was buried in unconsecrated ground Adrienne Lecouvreur,
+the tragedienne who made tragedy, the beloved of
+Maréchal Saxe. Scribe's drama has made her story
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>
+known&mdash;how her heart was too much for her, and how
+Christian burial was refused her by a Christian priest.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue St. Dominique, parallel with the Rue de
+Grenelle nearer the river, is equally old and august.
+At No. 13 lived Madame de Genlis, the monitress of
+French youth. Still nearer the river runs the long Rue
+de l'Université, which also has an illustrious past and
+a picturesque present, some great French noble having
+built nearly every house.</p>
+
+<p>One of the first old streets to cross the Boulevard St.
+Germain is the Rue du Bac, a roadway made when the
+Palace of the Tuileries was building, to convey materials
+from Vaugiraud to the <i>bac</i> (or ferry boat) which crossed
+the Seine where the Pont Royal now stands. This
+street also is full of ancient palaces and convents.
+Chateaubriand died at 118-120. At 128 is the Séminaires
+des Missions Etrangères, with a terrible little
+museum called the Chambre des Martyrs, very French
+in character, displaying instruments of torture which
+have been used upon missionaries in China and other
+countries inimical (like poor Adrienne's priest) to Christianity.
+The Rue des Saints-Pères resembles the Rue du
+Bac, but is more attractive to the loiterer because it has
+perhaps the greatest number of old curiosity shops of
+any street in Paris. They touch each other: perhaps
+they take in each other's dusting. I never saw a
+customer enter; but that of course means nothing.
+One might be sure of finding a case made of peau de
+chagrin here and be equally sure that Balzac had trodden
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>
+this pavement before you. You will see, however,
+nothing or very little that is beautiful, because Paris
+does not care much for sheer beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue des Saints-Pères runs upwards into the Rue
+de Sèvres, where old convents cluster and the Bon
+Marché raises its successful modern bulk. It was in the
+Abbaye-aux-Bois, once at the corner of the Rue de
+Sèvres and the Rue de la Chaise, but now buried beneath
+a gigantic block of new flats, that Madame Récamier
+lived from 1814 until her death in 1849, visited latterly
+every day by the faithful Chateaubriand. M. Georges
+Cain has a charming chapter on this friendship and its
+scene in his <i>Promenades dans Paris</i>, of which an English
+translation, entitled <i>Walks in Paris</i>, has recently
+been published.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the Boulevard St. Germain, which we
+leave as often as we touch it, I remember that, on the
+south side, between the Invalides end and the statue of
+the inventor of the semaphore, used to be a little shop
+devoted to the sale of trophies of Joan of Arc. And since
+it used to be there, it follows that it is there still, for
+nothing in Paris ever changes. One of the great charms
+of Paris is that it is always the same. I can think of
+hardly any shop that has changed in the last ten years.
+This means, I suppose, that the French rarely die.
+How can they, disliking as they do to leave Paris? It
+is the English and the Scotch, born to forsake their
+homes and live uncomfortably foreign lives, who die.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"><a name="alexandre" id="alexandre"></a>
+<img src="images/i_222.jpg" width="650" height="493" alt="THE PONT ALEXANDRE III" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="fl20 s2">EIFFEL TOWER</span>
+<span class="center s2">TROCADÉRO</span><br />
+THE PONT ALEXANDRE III<br />
+<span class="s2">(FROM THE EAST)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>If one is interested in seeing the Pasteur Institute,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>
+now is the time, for it is not far from the Rue de Sèvres,
+in the Rue Falguière, named after Falguière the sculptor
+of the memorial to Pasteur in the Place Breteuil: one
+of the best examples of recent Paris statuary, with a
+charming shepherd boy playing his pipe to his flock on
+one side of the pediment, and grimmer scenes of disease
+on the others. This monument, however, is some distance
+from the Institute, the Place Breteuil being the
+first carrefour in that vast and endless avenue which
+leads southwards from Napoleon's tomb. The Institute
+itself has a spirited statue of Jupille the shepherd, one
+of its first patients, in his struggle with the wolf that
+bit him. Pasteur's tomb is here, but I have not seen
+it, as I arrived on the wrong day.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most attractive of the Boulevard St.
+Germain's byways is entered just round the corner of
+the Rue de Rennes. This is the Cour du Dragon,
+which is not only a relic of old Paris, but old Paris is
+still visible hard at work in it. The Cour du Dragon
+is a narrow court gained by an archway over which a
+red dragon perches, holding up the balcony with his
+vigorous pinions. It was the Hôtel Taranne in the
+reigns of Charles VI. and VII. and Louis XI.; later
+it became a famous riding and fencing school. It is
+now a cheerful nest of artisans&mdash;coppersmiths, locksmiths,
+coal merchants and the like, who fill it with brisk
+hammerings, while at the windows above, with their
+green shutters, the songs of caged birds mingle in the
+symphony.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As in all Parisian streets or courts where signs are
+hung, the golden key is prominent. (There is one in
+Mr. Dexter's picture of the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville.)
+What the proportion of locksmiths is to the population
+of Paris I cannot say; but their pretty symbol is to be
+seen everywhere. The reason of their numbers is not
+very mysterious when we recollect that practically every
+one that one meets in this city, and certainly all the
+people of the middling and working classes, live in flats,
+and all want keys. The streets and streets of the small
+houses with which East London is covered are unknown
+in Paris, where every façade is but the mask which hides
+vast tenements packed with families. No wonder then
+that the serrurier is so busy.</p>
+
+<p>Another sign which probably puzzles many English
+people is that of the stoppeur. Bellows' dictionary does
+not recognise the word. What is a stoppeur and what
+does he stop? I discovered the answer in the most
+practical way possible; for a Frenchman, in a crowd,
+helped me to it by pushing his lighted cigar into my
+back and burning a hole in it, right in the middle of
+the coat, where a patch would necessarily show. I was in
+despair until the femme de chambre reassured me. It was
+nothing, she said: all that was needed was a stoppeur.
+She would take the coat herself. It seems that the
+stoppeur's craft is that of mending holes so deftly that
+you would not know there had been any. He ascertains
+the pattern by means of a magnifying glass, and then
+extracts threads from some part of the garment that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>
+does not show and weaves them in. I paid three francs
+and have been looking for the injured spot ever since,
+but cannot find it. It is a modern miracle.</p>
+
+<p>Diagonally opposite the Court of the Dragon is the
+Church of St. Germain&mdash;not the St. Germain who owns
+the church at the east end of the Louvre, but St. Germain
+des Prés, a lesser luminary. It has no particular
+beauty, but a number of frescoes by Flandrin, the pupil
+of Ingres, give it a cachet. Flandrin's bust is to be observed
+on the north wall. The frescoes cannot be seen
+except under very favourable conditions, and therefore
+for me the greatness of Flandrin has to be sought in his
+drawings at the Luxembourg and the Louvre&mdash;sufficient
+proof of his exquisite hand.</p>
+
+<p>Before descending the Rue Bonaparte to the river,
+let us ascend it to see the great church of St. Sulpice
+and its paintings by Delacroix in the Chapel of the
+Holy Angels. Under the Convention St. Sulpice was
+the Temple of Victory, and here General Bonaparte
+was feasted in 1799. The church is famous for its
+music and an organ second only to that of St. Eustache.
+And now let us descend the Rue Bonaparte to the
+quais, where several buildings await us, beginning with
+the Beaux-Arts at the foot of the street; but first the
+Rue Jacob, which bisects the Rue Bonaparte, should
+be looked at, for it has had many illustrious inhabitants,
+including our own Laurence Sterne, who lodged here,
+at No. 46, in the Hôtel of his friend Madame Rambouillet
+(of the easy manners) when he was studying the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>
+French for <i>A Sentimental Journey</i>. It was here
+perhaps that he penned the famous opening sentence:
+"'They order,' said I, 'these things better in France'"&mdash;which
+no other writer on Paris has succeeded in forgetting.
+At No. 20 lived Adrienne Lecouvreur, and
+hither Voltaire must often have come, for he greatly admired
+her. At No. 7 is a fine old staircase and an old
+well in the court.</p>
+
+<p>The Palais des Beaux-Arts, where the Royal Academy
+Schools of Paris are situated, is an unexhilarating building
+containing a great number of unexciting paintings.
+Indeed, I think that no public edifice of Paris is so
+dreary: within and without one has a sense not exactly
+of decay but certainly of neglect. This is not the less
+odd when one thinks of the purpose of the institution,
+which is to foster the arts, and when one thinks also
+of the spotless perfection in which the Petit Palais, the
+latest of the Parisian picture galleries, is maintained.
+The spirit, however, is willing, if the flesh is weak, for
+in the first and second courts are examples of the best
+French architecture, and a bust of Jean Goujon is let
+into the wall of the Musée des Antiques. The building
+contains a number of casts of the best sculptures and
+an amphitheatre with Delaroche's pageant of painters
+on the hemicycle and Ingres' Victory of Romulus over
+the Sabines opposite it; but there is not always enough
+light to see either well. For the best view of Delaroche's
+great work one must go upstairs to the Gallery. The
+library also is upstairs, with many thousand of valuable
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>
+works on art and a collection of drawings by the masters,
+access to which is made easy to genuine students.</p>
+
+<p>By returning to the first court we come to the Musée
+de la Renaissance, which now occupies an old chapel of
+the Couvent des Petits-Augustins, on the site of which
+the Palais de Beaux-Arts was built. Here are more
+casts and copies, and there are still more in the adjoining
+Cour du Mûrier, where stands the memorial of
+Henri Regnault, the painter, and the students who
+died with him during the defence of Paris in 1870-71.</p>
+
+<p>We then enter the Salle de Melpomène, so called
+from the dominating cast of the Melpomene at the
+Louvre, and are straightway among what seem at the
+first glance to be old friends from all the best galleries
+of the world but too quickly are revealed as counterfeits.
+Rembrandt's School of Anatomy and the Syndics, our
+own National Gallery Correggio, the Dresden Raphael,
+the Wallace Collection Velasquez (the Lady with a Fan),
+one of Hals' groups of arquebusiers, and Paul Potter's
+Bull: all are here, together with countless others, all the
+work of Beaux-Arts students, and some exceedingly
+good, but also (like most copies) exceedingly depressing.</p>
+
+<p>In other rooms almost pitch dark are modelled studies
+of expression and paintings which have won the Grand
+Prix of Rome during the past two hundred years. It
+is odd to notice how few names one recognises: it is as
+though, like the Newdigate, this prize were an end in
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>Having contemplated the statue of Voltaire in his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>
+robes outside the Institut, the next building of importance
+after the Beaux Arts, you may, if you so desire,
+gaze upon the same philosopher in a state of nature by
+entering the Institut itself, and ascending to its Bibliothèque.
+There he sits, the skinny cynic, among the
+books which he wrote and the books which he read and
+the books which would not have been written but for
+him. I was glad to see him thus, for it showed me
+where our own Arouet, Mr. Bernard Shaw, found his
+inspiration when he too subjected recently his economical
+frame to the maker of portraits. Mr. Shaw sat, however,
+only to a photographer (although a very good
+one, Mr. Coburn); when he visited Rodin it was for the
+head, a replica of which may be seen at the Luxembourg.
+Speaking of heads, the Institut is a wilderness of them:
+heads line the stairs; heads line the walls not only of
+its own Bibliothèque but of the Bibliothèque de Mazarin,
+which also is here, a haven for every student that cares
+to seek it: heads of the great Frenchmen of all time
+and of the Cæsars too.</p>
+
+<p>The Pont des Arts, which leads direct from the old
+Louvre to the Institut (a connection, if ever, no longer
+of any importance), is for foot passengers only. One is
+therefore more at ease there in observing the river than
+on the noisy bridge of stone. But it is inexcusably ugly
+and leaves one continually wondering what Napoleon
+was about to allow it to be built&mdash;and of iron too&mdash;in
+his day of good taste. Looking up stream, the Pont
+Neuf is close by with the thin green end of the Cité's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>
+wedge protruding under it and, in winter, Henri IV.
+riding proudly above. In summer, as Mr. Dexter's
+drawing shows, he is hidden by leaves. A basin has
+been constructed at this point from which the tide is
+excluded, and here are washing houses and swimming
+baths; for Parisians, having a river, use it.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="donateur" id="donateur"></a>
+<img src="images/i_230.jpg" width="608" height="650" alt="LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR" />
+<p class="caption">LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR<br />
+<span class="s2">J. VAN EYCK</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>The Hôtel des Monnaies, close by the Beaux Arts, is
+another surprise. One would expect in such a country
+as France, with its meticulously exact control of its
+public offices, that its Mint, the institution in which its
+money was made, would be a miracle of precision and
+efficiency. Efficiency it may have; but its proceedings
+are casual beyond belief: the workmen in the furnaces
+loaf and smoke and stare at the visitors and exchange
+comments on them; the floors are cluttered up with
+lumber; the walls are dirty; the doors do not fit. A
+very considerable amount of work seems to be accomplished&mdash;there
+are machines constantly in movement
+which turn out scores of coins a minute, not only for
+France but for her few and dispiriting colonies and
+for other countries; and yet the feeling which one
+has is that France here is noticeably below herself.</p>
+
+<p>I was shown round by a very charming attendant,
+who handled the new coins as though he loved them
+and took precisely that pride in the place that the
+Government seems to lack. The design on the French
+franc, although it ought to be cut, I think, a little
+deeper, a little more boldly, is very attractive, both
+obverse and reverse, and it is a pleasant sight to see the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>
+bright creatures tumbling out of the machine as fast as
+one can count. Pleasanter still is it to the frail human
+eye when the same process is repeated with golden
+Louis'&mdash;baskets full of which stand negligently about
+as though it were the cave of the Forty Thieves.</p>
+
+<p>An Englishman's perhaps indiscreet questions as to
+what precautions were taken to prevent leakage amused
+the guide beyond all reason. "It is impossible," he
+said; "the coins are weighed. They must correspond
+to the prescribed weight." "But who," my countryman
+went on, in the relentless English way, "checks the
+weigher?" "Another," said the guide. "But a time
+must come," continued the Briton, who probably had a
+business of his own and had suffered, "when there is no
+one left to check&mdash;when the last man of all is officiating:
+how then?" Our guide laughed very happily, and
+repeated that there were no thieves there; and I daresay
+he is right. "Perhaps," I said, to the English
+inquisitor, "perhaps, like assistants in sweet shops, they
+are allowed at first to help themselves so much that they
+acquire a disgust for money." He looked at me with
+eyes of stone. I think he had Scotch blood. "Perhaps,"
+he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>My own contribution to the guide's entertainment
+was the production, before a machine that was shooting
+five-franc pieces into a bowl at the rate of one a second,
+of the four bad (démonétisé) coins of the same value
+which had been forced upon me during the few days
+I had then been in Paris. They gave immense delight.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span>
+Several mintners (or whatever they are called) stopped
+working in order to join in the inspection. It was the
+general opinion that I had been badly treated: although,
+of course, I ought to have known. Three of the coins
+were simply those of other nations no longer current in
+France, and for them I could get from two to three
+francs each at an exchange. Unless, of course, a man
+of the world put in, I liked to sell them to a waiter, and
+then I should get perhaps a slightly better price. "Be
+careful, however," said he, "that he does not give them
+back to you in the next change."  The fourth coin
+was frankly base metal and ought not to have taken in
+a child. That, by the way, was given to me at a Post
+Office, the one under the Bourse, and I find that Post
+Offices are notorious for this habit with foreigners.
+The mintners generally agreed that it was a scandal,
+but they did so without heat&mdash;bearing indeed this misfortune
+(not their own) very much as their countryman
+La Rochefoucauld had observed men to do.</p>
+
+<p>After the coins we saw the medal-stampers at work,
+each seated in a little hole in the ground before his
+press. The French have a natural gift for the designing
+of medals, and they are interested in them as souvenirs
+not only of public but of private events&mdash;such as silver
+weddings, birthdays and other anniversaries. Upstairs
+there is a collection of medals by the best designers&mdash;such
+as Roty, Patey, Carial, Chaplain, Dupuis, Dupré&mdash;many
+of them charming. Here also are collections of
+the world's coinage and of historical French medals.</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xi" id="chapter_xi"></a>CHAPTER XI<br />
+THE LATIN QUARTER</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+Old Prints&mdash;Procope, Tortoni, and Le Père Lunette&mdash;The Luxembourg
+Palace&mdash;Rodin&mdash;Modern Paintings&mdash;A Sinister Crypt&mdash;A
+Garden of Sculpture&mdash;The Students of the Latin Quarter&mdash;The
+Sorbonne&mdash;A Beautiful Museum&mdash;The Cluny's Treasures&mdash;Marat
+and Danton&mdash;Old Streets and Dirty&mdash;The River Bièvre&mdash;Inspired
+Topography&mdash;Dante in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>The high road from the centre of Paris to the
+Latin Quarter is across the Pont du Carrousel
+and up the narrow Rue Mazarine, which skirts the
+Institut. We have seen on the Quai des Célestins the
+site of one of Molière's theatres: here, at Nos. 12-14, is
+the house in which he established his first theatre, on
+the last day of 1643. The Rue Mazarin runs into the
+Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie Française, at No. 14 in
+which was that theatre, whose successor stands at the
+foot of the Rue Richelieu. Parallel with the Rue
+Mazarin is the Rue de Seine, interesting for its old
+print shops, not the least interesting department of
+which is the portfolios containing students' sketches,
+some of them very good. (I might equally have said
+some of them very bad.)</p>
+
+<p>Crossing the Boulevard St. Germain we climb what
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>
+is now the Rue de l'Odéon to the Place and theatre of
+that name, with the statue of Augier the dramatist
+before it. The Place de l'Odéon demands some attention,
+for at No. 1, now the Café Voltaire, was once the
+famous Café Procope, very significant in the eighteenth
+century, the resort of Voltaire and the Encyclopædists,
+and later of the Revolutionaries. Camille Desmoulins
+indeed made it his home. You may see within portraits
+of these old famous habitués. Procopio, a Sicilian
+who founded his establishment for the shelter of poor
+actors and students (whom Paris then loathed in private
+life), was the father of all the Paris cafés.</p>
+
+<p>The Café Procope was to men of intellect what some
+few years later Tortoni's was to men of fashion. The
+Café Tortoni was in the Boulevard des Italiens. Let
+Captain Gronow tell its history: "About the commencement
+of the present [nineteenth] century, Tortoni's, the
+centre of pleasure, gallantry, and entertainment, was
+opened by a Neapolitan, who came to Paris to supply
+the Parisians with good ice. The founder of this celebrated
+café was by name Veloni, an Italian, whose father
+lived with Napoleon from the period he invaded Italy,
+when First Consul, down to his fall. Young Veloni
+brought with him his friend Tortoni, an industrious and
+intelligent man. Veloni died of an affection of the
+lungs, shortly after the café was opened, and left the
+business to Tortoni; who, by dint of care, economy, and
+perseverance, made his café renowned all over Europe.
+Towards the end of the first Empire, and during the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span>
+return of the Bourbons, and Louis Philippe's reign, this
+establishment was so much in vogue that it was difficult
+to get an ice there; after the opera and theatres were
+over, the Boulevards were literally choked up by the
+carriages of the great people of the court and the Faubourg
+St. Germain bringing guests to Tortoni's.</p>
+
+<p>"In those days clubs did not exist in Paris, consequently
+the gay world met there. The Duchess of
+Berri, with her suite, came nearly every night incognito;
+the most beautiful women Paris could boast of, old
+maids, dowagers, and old and young men, pouring out
+their sentimental twaddle, and holding up to scorn their
+betters, congregated here. In fact, Tortoni's became
+a sort of club for fashionable people; the saloons were
+completely monopolised by them, and became the rendez-vous
+of all that was gay, and I regret to add, immoral.</p>
+
+<p>"Gunter, the eldest son of the founder of the house
+in Berkeley Square, arrived in Paris about this period,
+to learn the art of making ice; for prior to the peace,
+our London ices and creams were acknowledged, by the
+English as well as foreigners, to be detestable. In the
+early part of the day, Tortoni's became the rendez-vous
+of duellists and retired officers, who congregated in
+great numbers to breakfast; which consisted of cold
+pâtés, game, fowl, fish, eggs, broiled kidneys, iced
+champagne, and liqueurs from every part of the globe.</p>
+
+<p>"Though Tortoni succeeded in amassing a large
+fortune, he suddenly became morose, and showed evident
+signs of insanity: in fact, he was the most unhappy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>
+man on earth. On going to bed one night, he said to
+the lady who superintended the management of his café,
+'It is time for me to have done with the world'. The
+lady thought lightly of what he said, but upon quitting
+her apartment on the following morning, she was told
+by one of the waiters that Tortoni had hanged himself."</p>
+
+<p>Some one should write a book&mdash;but perhaps it has
+been done&mdash;on the great restaurateurs. Paris would, of
+course, provide the lion's share; but there would be
+plenty of material to collect in other capitals. The life of
+our own Nicol of the Café Royal, for example, would not
+be without interest; and what of Sherry and Delmonico?</p>
+
+<p>While on the subject of meeting-places of remarkable
+persons, I might say that a latter-day resort of
+intellectuals who have allowed the world and its temptations
+to be too much for them is not so very far away from
+us at this point&mdash;the cabaret of Le Père Lunette at No. 4
+Rue des Anglais. I do not say that this is a modern
+Procope, but it has some of the same characteristics:
+men of genius have met here and illustrious portraits
+are on the wall; but they are not frescoes such as
+could be included in this book, for old Father Spectacles
+puts satire before propriety.</p>
+
+<p>In the colonnade round the Odéon theatre are bookstalls,
+chiefly offering new books at very low rates. We
+emerge on the south side in the Rue Vaugiraud, with
+the Médicis fountain of the Luxembourg just across the
+road. The Luxembourg Palace was built by Marie de
+Médicis, the widow of Henri IV., and it fulfilled the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span>
+functions of a palace until the Revolution, when, prisons
+being more important than palaces, it became a prison.
+Among those conveyed hither were the Vicomte de
+Beauharnais and his wife Joséphine, who was destined
+one day to be anything but a prisoner. After the
+Revolution the Luxembourg became the Palace of the
+Directoire and then the Palace of the First Consul. In
+1800 Napoleon moved to the Tuileries, and a little while
+afterwards he established the Senate here, and here it is
+still. I cannot describe the Palace, for I have never
+been in it, but the Musée I know well.</p>
+
+<p>The Luxembourg galleries are dedicated to modern
+art. They have nothing earlier than the nineteenth
+century, and may be said to carry on the history of
+French painting from the point where it is left in Room
+VIII. at the Louvre, while little is quite so modern as
+the permanent portion of the Petit Palais. One plunges
+from the street directly into a hall of very white sculpture,
+which for the moment affects the sight almost like
+the beating wings of gulls. The difference between
+French and English sculpture, which is largely the difference
+between nakedness and nudity, literally assaults
+the eye for the moment; and then the more beautiful
+work quietly begins to assert itself&mdash;Rodin's "Pensée,"
+on the left, holding the attention first and gently soothing
+the bewildered vision. Rodin indeed dominates this
+room, for here are not only his "Pensée" (the "Penseur"
+is not so very far away, two hundred yards or so, at the
+Panthéon), but his "John the Baptist," gaunt and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>
+urgent in the wilderness (with Dubois' "John the
+Baptist as a boy" near by, to show from what material
+prophets are evolved) and the exquisite "Danaïdes"
+and the "Age d'Airain," and the giant heads of Hugo
+and Rochefort, and the little delicate sensitive Don
+Quixotic head of Dalou the sculptor, which has just
+been added, and the George Wyndham and the G.B.S.
+and other recent portraits; while through the doorway
+to the next room one sees the "Baiser," immense and
+passionate. I reproduce both the "Baiser," <a href="#baiser">opposite
+page 294</a>, and the "Pensée," <a href="#pensee">opposite page 46</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Other work here that one recalls is the charming
+group by Frémiet, "Pan and the Bear Cubs," Dubois'
+fascinating "Florentine Singing-boy of the Fifteenth
+Century," a peasant by Dalou, a Great Dane and puppies
+by Le Courtier, and the very beautiful head in the
+doorway to Room I.&mdash;"Femme de Marin," by Cazin the
+painter. But other visitors, other tastes, of course.</p>
+
+<p>Before entering Room I. there are two small rooms on
+the right of the sculpture gallery which should be entered,
+one given up to the more famous Impressionists and
+one to foreign work. The chief Impressionists are
+Degas, Renoir, Monet, Sisley and their companions, almost
+all of whom seem to me to have painted better elsewhere
+than here. Monet's "Yachts in the River" rise
+before me, as I write, with the warm sun upon them, and
+I still see in the mind's eye the torso of a young woman
+by Legros: but this room always depresses me, the
+effect largely I believe of the antipathetic Renoir. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>
+other room has a floating population. Recently the
+painters have been Belgian: but at another time they
+may be German or English, when the Belgians will
+recede to the cellars or be lent to provincial galleries.</p>
+
+<p>The pictures in the Luxembourg are many, but the
+arresting hand is too seldom extended. Cleverness, the
+bane of French art, dominates. In the first room
+Rodin's "Baiser" is greater than any painting; but
+Harpignies' "Lever de Lune" is here, and here also is
+one of Pointelin's sombre desolate moorlands. In a
+glass case some delicate bowls by Dammouse are worth
+attention; but I think his work at the Arts Décoratifs
+at the Louvre is better. The second room is notable
+for the Fantin-Latour drawings in the middle, with others
+by Flandrin and Meissonier; the third for Carolus-Duran's
+"Vieux Lithographe" and a case of drawings
+by modern black and white masters, including Legros
+and Steinlen; here also is another Pointelin. In Room
+IV. is a coast scene&mdash;"Les Falaises de Sotteville," in a
+lovely evening light, by Bouland, which falls short of
+perfection but is very grateful to the eyes. In Room
+V. is a portrait group by Fantin-Latour recalling the
+"Hommage à Delacroix," which we saw in the Collection
+Moreau, but less interesting. The studio is that of
+Manet at Batignolles. Here also is a beautiful snow
+scene by Cazin&mdash;an oasis indeed. In Room VI. we find
+Cazin again with "Ishmael," and two sweet and misty
+Carrières, a powerful if hard Legros, Carolus-Duran's
+portrait of the ruddy Papa Français the painter,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span>
+Blanche's vivid group of the Thaulow family, with the
+gigantic Fritz bringing the strength of a bull-fighter
+to the execution of one of his tender landscapes, and
+finally Whistler's portrait of his mother, which I reproduce
+on the <a href="#mere">opposite page</a>&mdash;one of the most restful and
+gentlest deeds of his restless, irritable life.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="mere" id="mere"></a>
+<img src="images/i_242.jpg" width="650" height="577" alt="PORTRAIT DE SA MÈRE" />
+<p class="caption">PORTRAIT DE SA MÈRE<br />
+<span class="s2">WHISTLER</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Luxembourg)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Room VII. is remarkable for Rodin's "Bellona" and
+Tissot's curious exercises in the genre of W. P. Frith&mdash;the
+story of the Prodigal Son. But the picture which
+I remember most clearly and with most pleasure is
+Victor Mottez's "Portrait of Madame M.," which has a
+deep quiet beauty that is very rare in this gallery. In
+the same room, placed opposite each other, although
+probably not with any conscious ironical intention, are
+a large scene in the Franco-Prussian War by De Neuville,
+and Carrière's "Christ on the Cross". In Room VIII. are
+a number of meretricious Moreaus, Caro-Delvalle's light
+and, to me, oddly attractive, group, "Ma Femme et
+ses S&oelig;urs," and the portrait of Mlle. Moréno of the
+Comédie Française by Granié, which is reproduced <a href="#bergere">opposite
+page 308</a>, a picture with fascination rather than
+genius.</p>
+
+<p>In the doorway between Room VIII. and Room IX.
+hangs a small water-colour by Harpignies, but in Room
+IX. itself is nothing that I can recollect. Room X. has
+Picard's charming "Femme qui passe," Harpignies'
+Coliseum, very like a Moreau Corot, and a Flandrin;
+and in Room XI. are Bastien Lepage's "Portrait of M.
+Franck," Le Sidaner's "Dessert," Vollon's "Port of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>
+Antwerp," very beautiful, and Carolus-Duran's famous
+portrait of "Madame G. F. and her children".</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the Musée it is worth while to take a few
+steps more to the left, for they bring us to another
+sinister souvenir of the Reign of Terror&mdash;to St. Joseph
+des Carmes, the Chapel of the Carmelite monastery in
+which, in September, 1792, the Abbé Sicard and other
+priests who had refused to take the oath of the Constitution
+were imprisoned and massacred, as described
+by Carlyle in Book I., Chapters IV. and V. of "The
+Guillotine," with the assistance of the narrative of one
+of the survivors, <i>Mon Agonie de Trente-Huit Heures</i>,
+by Jourgniac Saint-Méard. In the crypt one is shown
+not only the tombs but traces of the massacre.</p>
+
+<p>A walk in the Luxembourg gardens would, if one
+had been nowhere else, quickly satisfy the stranger as to
+the interest of the French in the more remarkable
+children of their country. In these gardens alone are
+statues, among many others, in honour of Chopin,
+Watteau, Delacroix, Sainte-Beuve, Le Play the economist,
+Fabre the poet, George Sand, Henri Murger, the
+novelist of the adjacent Latin Quarter, and Théodore
+de Banville, the modern maker of ballades and prime
+instigator of some of the most charming work in French
+form by Mr. Lang and Mr. Dobson and W. E. Henley.
+There are countless other statues of mythological and
+allegorical figures, some of them very striking. One
+of the most interesting of all is the "Marchand de
+Masques" by Astruc, among the masks offered for sale
+being those of Corot, Dumas, Berlioz and Balzac.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Luxembourg gardens lead to the Avenue de
+l'Observatoire, a broad and verdant pleasaunce with a
+noble fountain at the head, in the midst of which an
+armillary sphere is held up by four undraped female
+figures representing the four quarters of the globe, at
+whom a circle of tortoises spout water from the surface of
+the basin. Beneath the upholders of the sphere are eight
+spirited sea horses by Frémiet, the sculptor who designed
+"Pan and the Bear Cubs" in the Luxembourg.</p>
+
+<p>A few yards to the west of this fountain is one of
+the simplest and most satisfying of Parisian sculptured
+memorials, at the corner of the Rue d'Assas and the
+Boulevard de l'Observatoire&mdash;the bas-relief on the Tarnier
+maternity hospital, representing the benevolent
+Tarnier in his merciful work.</p>
+
+<p>Let us now descend the Boulevard St. Michel to the
+Sorbonne, which is the heart of the Latin Quarter (or
+perhaps the brain would be the better word), disregarding
+for the moment the Panthéon, and turning our backs on
+the Observatoire and the Lion de Belfort, in the streets
+around which, every September, the noisiest of the
+Parisian fairs rages, and on the Bal Bullier, where the
+shop assistants of this neighbourhood grasp each other
+in the dance every Thursday and Sunday night. Not
+that this high southern district of Paris is not interesting;
+but it is far less interesting than certain parts
+nearer the Seine, and this book may not be too long.</p>
+
+<p>The Sorbonne is not exciting, but it is not unamusing
+to watch young France gaining knowledge. I have
+called it the heart of the Latin Quarter, although when
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>
+one thinks of the necessitous, irresponsible youthful populace
+of these slopes, it is rather in a studio than in a
+lecture centre that one would fix its cardiac energy.
+That, however, is the fault of Du Maurier and Murger;
+for I suppose that for every artist that the Latin Quarter
+fosters it has scores of other students. But here I am
+in unknown territory. This book, which describes (as
+I warned you) Paris wholly from without, is never so
+external as among the young bloods who are to be met
+at night in the Café Harcourt, or who dance at the
+annual ball of the Quatz'-Arts, or plunge themselves into
+congenial riots when unpopular professors mount the
+platform. I know them not; I merely rejoice in their
+existence, admire their long hair and high spirits and
+happy indigence, and wish I could join them among
+Jullien's models, or in the disreputable cabaret of Le
+Père Lunette, or at a solemn disputation, such as that
+famous one in which the sophist Buridan, after being
+thrown into the Seine in a sack and rescued, "maintained
+for a whole day the thesis that it was lawful to slay a
+Queen of France".</p>
+
+<p>The Sorbonne takes its name from Robert de Sorbon,
+the confessor of St. Louis, who had suffered much as
+a theological student and wished others to suffer less;
+for students in his day existed absolutely on charity.
+St. Louis threw himself into his confessor's scheme, and
+the Sorbonne, richly endowed, was opened in 1253, in
+its original form occupying a site in a street with the
+depressing name of Coupe-Gueule. From a hostel it soon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span>
+became the Church's intellect, and for five and a half
+centuries it thus existed, almost continually, I regret to
+say, pursuing what Gibbon calls "the exquisite rancour
+of theological hatred". Its hostility to Joan of Arc and
+the Reformation were alike intense. Richelieu built
+the second Sorbonne, on the site of the present one.
+The Revolution in its short sharp way put an end to it
+as a defender of the faith, and in 1808, under Napoleon,
+it sprang to life again with a broader and humaner
+programme as the Université de France.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="fontaine" id="fontaine"></a>
+<img src="images/i_248.jpg" width="412" height="650" alt="THE FONTAINE DE MÉDICIS" />
+<p class="caption">THE FONTAINE DE MÉDICIS<br />
+<span class="s2">(GARDEN OF THE LUXEMBOURG)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Although arriving on the wrong day (a very easy
+thing to do in Paris) I induced the concierge to show
+me Puvis de Chavannes' vast and beautiful fresco in the
+Sorbonne's amphitheatre, entitled "La Source"&mdash;which
+is, I take it, the spring of wisdom. Thursday is the
+right day. In the chapel is the tomb of Richelieu, a
+florid monument with the dying cardinal and some very
+ostentatious grief upon it. Near by stands an elderly
+gentleman who charges twice as much for postcards as
+the dealers outside; but one must not mind that. The
+church is not impressive, nor has a recent meretricious
+work by Weerts, representing the Love of Humanity
+and the Love of Country&mdash;the crucified Christ and a
+dead soldier&mdash;done it much good. Before it is a monument
+to Auguste Comte.</p>
+
+<p>And now let us descend the hill and cheer and enrich
+our eyes in one of the most remarkable museums in the
+world&mdash;the Cluny. Paris is too fortunate. To have
+the Louvre were enough for any city, but Paris also has
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>
+the Carnavalet. To have the Carnavalet were enough,
+but Paris also has the Cluny. The Musée de Cluny
+is devoted chiefly to applied art, and is a treasury of
+mediæval taste. It is an ancient building, standing on
+the site of a Roman palace, the ruins of whose baths
+still remain. The present mansion was built by a
+Benedictine abbot in the fifteenth century: it became
+a storehouse of beautiful and rare objects in 1833, when
+the collector Alphonse du Sommerard bought it; and
+on his death the nation acquired both the house and
+its treasures, which have been steadily increasing ever
+since. Without, the Cluny is a romantic blend of late
+Gothic and Renaissance architecture: within, it is like
+the heaven of a good arts-and-craftsman; or, to put it
+another way, like an old curiosity shop carried out to the
+highest power. I do not say that we have not as good
+collections at South Kensington; but it is beyond doubt
+that the Cluny has a more attractive setting for them.</p>
+
+<p>To particularise would merely be to convert these
+pages into an incomplete catalogue (and what is duller
+than that?), but I may say that one passes among
+sculpture and painting, altar-pieces and knockers, pottery
+and tapestry, Spanish leather and lace, gold work and
+glass, enamel and musical instruments, furniture (the
+state bed of Francis I.) and ivories (note those by Van
+Opstal), ironwork and jewels, fireplaces and exquisite
+slippers. The old keys alone are worth hours: some of
+them might almost be called jewels; be sure to look at
+Nos. 6001 and 6022. Everything is remarkable. Writing
+in London, in a thick fog, at some distance of time
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>
+since I saw the Cluny last, I remember most vividly those
+keys and a banc d'orfèvre near them; a chimney-piece,
+beautiful and vast, from an old house at Châlons-sur-Marne;
+certain carvings in wood in the great room next
+the Thermes: the "Quatre Pleurants" of Claus de
+Worde; a dainty Marie Madeleine by a Fleming, about
+1500 (there is another Marie Madeleine, in stone, in an
+adjacent room, kneeling with her alabaster box of ointment,
+but by no means penitent); and the Jesus on the
+Mount of Olives with the sleeping disciples. I remember
+also, in one of the faience galleries, two delightful groups
+by Clodion&mdash;a "Satyre mâle" with two baby goat-feet
+playing by him, and a "Satyre femelle," very charming,
+also with two little shaggy mites at her knees. The
+"Fils de Rubens," in his little chair, is also a pleasant
+memory; and there is one of those remarkable Neapolitan
+reconstructions of the Nativity, of which the
+museum at Munich has such an amazing collection&mdash;perhaps
+the prettiest toys ever made.</p>
+
+<p>But as I have said, the Cluny is wonderful throughout,
+and it is almost ridiculous to particularise. It is
+also too small for every taste. For the lover of the
+hues that burn in Rhodian ware it is most memorable
+for its pottery; while of the many Parisians who visit
+it in holiday mood a large percentage make first for the
+glass case that contains its two famous ceintures.</p>
+
+<p>The Curator of the Carnavalet, as we have seen, is
+a topographer and antiquary of distinction; the Director
+of the Cluny, M. Haraucourt, is a poet, one of whose
+ballads will be found in English form in a later chapter.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>
+He is in a happy environment, although his Muse does
+not look back quite as, say, Mr. Dobson's loves to do.
+The singer of the "Pompadour's Fan" and the "Old
+Sedan Chair" would be continually inspired at the Cluny.</p>
+
+<p>In the Gardens of the Musée we can feel ourselves in
+very early times; for the baths are the ruins of a Roman
+palace built in 306, the home for a while of Julian the
+Apostate; a temple of Mercury stood on the hill where
+the Panthéon now is; and a Roman road ran on the
+site of the Rue St. Jacques, just at the east of the Cluny,
+leading out of Paris southwards to Italy.</p>
+
+<p>On leaving the Cluny let us take a few steps westward
+along the Rue de l'Ecole de Médicine, and stop at No.
+15, where the Cordeliers' Club was held, whither Marat's
+body was brought to lie in state. His house, in which
+Charlotte Corday stabbed him, was close by, where the
+statue of Broca now stands. In the Boulevard St.
+Germain, at the end of the street, we come to Danton's
+statue and more memories of the Revolution. "What
+souvenirs of the past," says Sardou, "does the statue of
+Danton cast his shadow upon. At No. 87 Boulevard
+St. Germain&mdash;where the woman Simon keeps house! it
+was there 31st March, 1793&mdash;at six o'clock in the morning,
+the rattling of the butt ends of muskets was heard
+on the pavement in the midst of wild cries and protestations
+of the crowd, they had dared to arrest Danton,
+the Titan of the Revolution, the man of the 10th of
+August!&mdash;at the same time on the Place de l'Odéon,
+at the corner of the Rue Crébillon, Camille Desmoulins
+had been arrested. An hour later they were both in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>
+the Luxembourg prison, and it was there Camille heard
+of the death of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"The Passage du Commerce still exists. It is a most
+picturesque old quarter, rarely visited by Parisians. At
+No. 9 is Durel's library, where Guillotin in 1790 practised
+cutting off sheep's heads with 'his philanthropic beheading
+machine'. It is generally given out that he was
+guillotined himself, but 'Lemprière' says he died quietly
+in his bed, of grief at the infamous abuse his instrument
+was put to. In the shop close by was the printing
+office of the <i>l'Ami du Peuple</i>, and Marat in his
+dressing-gown (lined with imitation panther skin) used
+to come and correct the proofs of his bloody journal."</p>
+
+<p>Between the Cluny and the river is a network of
+very old, squalid and interesting streets. Here the
+students of the middle ages found both their schools
+and their lodgings: among them Dante himself, who
+refers to the Rue de Fouarre (or straw, on which, following
+the instructions of Pope Urban V., the students sat)
+as the Vico degli Strami. It has now been demolished.
+The two churches here are worth a visit&mdash;St. Severin and
+St. Julien-le-Pauvre, but the reader is warned that the
+surroundings are not too agreeable. In the court adjoining
+St Julien's are traces of the wall of Philip Augustus,
+of which we saw something at the Mont de Piété.</p>
+
+<p>All these streets, as I say, are picturesque and dirty,
+but I think the best is the Rue de Bièvre, which runs
+up the hill of St. Etienne from the Quai de Montebello,
+opposite the Morgue, and can be gained from St. Julien's
+by the dirty Rue de la Boucherie, of which this street
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>
+and its westward continuation, the Rue de la Huchette,
+Huysmans, the French novelist and mystic, writes&mdash;as
+of all this curious district&mdash;in his book, <i>La Bièvre et
+Saint Severin</i>, one of the best examples of imaginative
+topography that I know. Let us see what he says of
+the Bièvre, the little river which gives the street its
+name and which once tumbled down into the Seine at
+this point, but is now buried underground like the New
+River at Islington.</p>
+
+<p>"The Bièvre," he writes, "represents to-day one of the
+most perfect symbols of feminine misery exploited by a
+big city. Originating in the lake or pond of St. Quentin
+near Trappes, it runs quietly and slowly through the
+valley that bears its name. Like many young girls from
+the country, directly it arrives in Paris the Bièvre falls
+a victim to the cunning wide-awake industry of a catcher
+of men.... To follow all her windings, it is necessary to
+ascend the Rue du Moulin des Prés and enter the Rue de
+Gentilly, and then the most extraordinary and unsuspected
+journey begins."</p>
+
+<p>Inspired by the passage of which these are the opening
+words, I set out one day to trace the Bièvre to daylight,
+but it was a cheerless enterprise, for the Rue
+Monge is a dreary street, and the new Boulevards hereabouts
+are even drearier because they are wider. I
+found her at last, by peeping through a hoarding in the
+Boulevard Arago, with tanneries on each side of her;
+and then I gave it up.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="hals" id="hals"></a>
+<img src="images/i_256.jpg" width="555" height="650" alt="LA BOHÉMIENNE" />
+<p class="caption">LA BOHÉMIENNE<br />
+<span class="s2">FRANZ HALS</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>At the Cluny we saw the Thermes, a visible sign of
+Roman occupation; just off the Rue Monge is another, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span>
+amphitheatre, still in very good condition, with the grass
+growing between the crevices of the great stone seats.
+You will find it in the Place des Arènes, a vestige of
+Roman manners and pleasures now converted into an
+open space for children and <i>bonnes</i> and surrounded by
+flats. But save for the desertion that the ages have
+brought it, the arena is not so very different, and standing
+there, one may easily reconstruct the spectators and
+see again the wild beasts emerging from the underground
+passages, which still remain.</p>
+
+<p>And now for the Panthéon, which rises above us.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xii" id="chapter_xii"></a>CHAPTER XII<br />
+THE PANTHÉON AND ST. GENEVIÈVE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A Church's Vicissitudes&mdash;St. Geneviève&mdash;A Guardian of Paris&mdash;Illustrious
+Converts&mdash;<i>The Golden Legend</i>&mdash;A Sabbath-breaker&mdash;Geneviève's
+Sacred Body&mdash;Her Tomb&mdash;The Panthéon Frescoes&mdash;Joan
+of Arc&mdash;The Panthéon Tombs&mdash;Mirabeau and Marat&mdash;Voltaire's
+Funeral&mdash;The Thoughts of the Thinker&mdash;From the
+Dome&mdash;St. Etienne-du-Mont&mdash;The Fate of St. Geneviève&mdash;The
+Relic-hunters&mdash;The Mystery of the Wine-press.</p>
+
+<p>The Panthéon, like the Madeleine, has had its
+vicissitudes. The new Madeleine, as we shall
+see, was begun by Napoleon as a splendid Temple of
+military glory and became a church; the new Panthéon
+was begun by Louis XV. as a splendid cathedral and
+became a Temple of Glory, not, however, military but
+civil. Louis XV., when he designed its erection on the
+site of the old church, intended it to be the church of
+St. Geneviève, whose tomb was its proudest possession;
+when the Revolution altered all that, it was made
+secular and dedicated "aux grands hommes la patrie
+reconnaissante," and the first grand homme to be buried
+there was Mirabeau (destined, however, not to remain
+a grand homme very long, as we shall see), and the next
+Voltaire. In 1806 Napoleon made it a church again;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span>
+in 1830 the Revolutionaries again secularised it; in
+1851 it was consecrated again, and in 1885 once more
+it became secular, to receive the body of Victor Hugo,
+and secular it has remained; and considering everything,
+secular it is likely to be, for whatever of change
+and surprise the future holds for France, an excess of
+ecclesiastical ecstasy is hardly probable.</p>
+
+<p>So much of Louis XV.'s idea remains, in spite of the
+perversion of his purpose, that scenes from the life of
+St. Geneviève are painted on the Panthéon's walls and
+sculptured on its façade; while in its last sacred days
+the church was known again as St. Geneviève's. Possibly
+there are old people in the neighbourhood who
+still call it that. I hope so.</p>
+
+<p>The life of St. Geneviève, as told in <i>The Golden
+Legend</i>, is rather a series of facile miracles than a human
+document, as we say. She was born in the fifth century
+at Nanterre, and early became a protégée of St. Germain,
+who vowed her to chastity and holiness, from
+which she never departed. Her calling, like that of
+her new companion on the canon, St. Joan, was that
+of shepherdess, and one of Puvis de Chavannes' most
+charming frescoes in the Panthéon represents her as a
+shadowy slip of a girl kneeling to a crucifix while her
+sheep graze about her. I reproduce it <a href="#chavannes">opposite the next
+page</a>. Her mother, who had, like most mothers, a
+desire that her daughter should marry and have children,
+once so far lost her temper as to strike Geneviève
+on the cheek; for which offence she became blind. (A
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span>
+very comfortable corner of heaven is, one feels, the due
+of the mothers of saints.) She remained blind for a
+long time, until remembering that St. Germain had
+promised for her daughter miraculous gifts, she sent for
+Geneviève and was magnanimously cured. After the
+death of her parent, Geneviève moved to Paris, and there
+she lived with an old woman, dividing the neighbourhood
+into believers and unbelievers in her sanctity, as is ever
+the way with saints. Here the Devil persecuted and
+attacked her with much persistence and ingenuity, but
+wholly without effect.</p>
+
+<p>During her long life she made Paris her principal
+home, and on more than one occasion saved it: hence
+her importance not only to the Parisians, who set her
+above St. Denis (whom she reverenced), but to this
+book. Her power of prayer was gigantic; she literally
+prayed Attila the Hun out of his siege of Paris,
+and later, when Childeric was the besieger and Paris
+was starving, she brought victuals into the city by boat
+in a miraculous way: another scene chosen by Puvis de
+Chavannes in his Panthéon series. Childeric, however,
+conquered, in spite of Geneviève, but he treated her
+with respect and made it easy for her to approach
+Clovis and Clotilde and convert them to Christianity&mdash;hence
+the convent of St. Geneviève, which Clovis founded,
+remains of which are still to be seen by the church of St.
+Etienne-du-Mont, in the two streets named after those
+early Christians&mdash;the Rue Clovis and the Rue Clotilde.
+Christianity had been introduced into Paris by Saint
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>
+Denis, Geneviève's hero, in the third century; but then
+came a reaction and the new faith lost ground. It was
+St. Geneviève's conversion of Clovis that re-established
+it on a much firmer basis, for he made it the national
+religion.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="chavannes" id="chavannes"></a>
+<img src="images/i_262.jpg" width="316" height="650" alt="STE. GENEVIÈVE" />
+<p class="caption">STE. GENEVIÈVE<br />
+<span class="s2">PUVIS DE CHAVANNES</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Panthéon</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>"This holy maid," says Caxton, "did great penance
+in tormenting her body all her life, and became lean
+for to give good example. For sith she was of the age
+of fifteen years, unto fifty, she fasted every day save
+Sunday and Thursday. In her refection she had nothing
+but barley bread, and sometime beans, the which,
+sodden after fourteen days or three weeks, she ate for
+all delices. Always she was in prayers in wakings and
+in penances, she drank never wine ne other liquor, that
+might make her drunk, in all her life. When she had
+lived and used this life fifty years, the bishops that were
+that time, saw and beheld that she was over feeble by
+abstinence as for her age, and warned her to increase a
+little her fare. The holy woman durst not gainsay
+them, for our Lord saith of the prelates: Who heareth
+you heareth me, and who despiseth you despiseth me,
+and so she began by obedience to eat with her bread,
+fish and milk, and how well that, she so did, she beheld
+the heaven and wept, whereof it is to believe that she
+saw appertly our Lord Jesus Christ after the promise of
+the gospel that saith that, Blessed be they that be
+clean of heart for they shall see God; she had her heart
+and body pure and clean."</p>
+
+<p>Caxton also tells quaintly the story of one of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span>
+first miracles performed by Geneviève's tomb: "Another
+man came thither that gladly wrought on the
+Sunday, wherefor our Lord punished him, for his hands
+were so benumbed and lame that he might not work on
+other days. He repented him and confessed his sin,
+and came to the tomb of the said virgin, and there
+honoured and prayed devoutly, and on the morn he
+returned all whole, praising and thanking our Lord, that
+by the worthy merits and prayers of the holy virgin,
+grant and give us pardon, grace, and joy perdurable."</p>
+
+<p>To St. Geneviève's tomb we shall come on leaving
+the Panthéon, but here after so much about her adventures
+when alive I might say something about her
+adventures when dead. She was buried in 511 in the
+Abbey church of the Holy Apostles, on the site of
+which the Panthéon stands. Driven out by the Normans,
+the monks removed the saint's body and carried it away
+in a box; and thereafter her remains were destined to
+rove, for when the monks returned to the Abbey they
+did not again place them in the tomb but kept them in
+a casket for use in processions whenever Paris was in
+trouble and needed supernatural help. Meanwhile her
+tomb, although empty, continued to work miracles also.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the seventeenth century her bones were restored
+to her tomb, which was made more splendid, and
+there they remained until the Revolution. The Revolutionists,
+having no use for saints, opened Geneviève's
+tomb, burned its contents on the Place de Grève, and
+melted the gold of the canopy into money. They also
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span>
+desecrated the church of St. Etienne-du-Mont (which
+we are about to visit) and made it a Temple of Theophilanthropy.
+A few years later the stone coffer was
+removed to St. Etienne-du-Mont, where it now is, gorgeously
+covered with Gothic splendours; but as to how
+minute are the fragments of the saint that it contains
+which must have been overlooked by the incendiary
+Revolutionaries, I cannot say. They are sufficient, however,
+still to cure the halt and the lame and enable them
+to leave their crutches behind.</p>
+
+<p>The Panthéon is a vast and dreary building, sadly in
+need of a little music and incense to humanise it. The
+frescoes are interesting&mdash;those of Puvis de Chavannes
+in particular, although a trifle too wan&mdash;but one cannot
+shake off depression and chill. The Joan of Arc paintings
+by Lenepveu are the least satisfactory, the Maid
+of this artist carrying no conviction with her. But
+when it comes to that, it is difficult to say which of the
+Parisian Maids of art is satisfactory: certainly not the
+audacious golden Amazon of Frémiet in the Place de
+Rivoli. Dubois' figure opposite St. Augustin's is more
+earnest and spiritual, but it does not quite realise one's
+wishes. I think that I like best the Joan in the
+Boulevard Saint-Marcel, behind the Jardin des Plantes.</p>
+
+<p>The vault of the Panthéon may be seen only in the
+company of a guide, and there is a charge. To be quite
+sure that Rousseau is in his grave is perhaps worth the
+money; but one resents the fee none the less. Great
+Frenchmen's graves&mdash;especially Victor Hugo's&mdash;should
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span>
+be free to all. There is no charge at the Invalides.
+You may stand beside Heine's tomb in the Cimetière
+de Montmartre without money and without a guide, but
+not by Voltaire's in the Panthéon; Balzac's grave in
+Père Lachaise is free, Zola's in the Panthéon costs
+seventy-five centimes.</p>
+
+<p>The guide hurries his flock from one vault to another,
+at one point stopping for a while to exchange badinage
+with an echo. Rousseau, as I have said, is here; Voltaire
+is here; here are General Carnot, President Carnot
+with a mass of faded wreaths, Soufflot&mdash;who designed
+the Panthéon, thinking his work was for St. Geneviève,
+and who died of anxiety owing to a subsidence of the
+walls; Victor Hugo, and, lately moved hither, not without
+turmoil and even pistol shots, the historian of the
+Rougon-Macquart family and the author of a letter of
+accusation famous in history.</p>
+
+<p>Not without turmoil! which reminds one that the
+Panthéon's funerals have been more than a little grotesque.
+I said, for example, that Mirabeau was the first
+prophet of reason to be buried here, amid a concourse
+of four hundred thousand mourners; yet you may look
+in vain for his tomb. And there is a record of the
+funeral of Marat, in a car designed by David; yet you
+may look in vain for Marat's sarcophagus also. The
+explanation (once more) is that we are in France, the
+land of the fickle mob. For within three years of
+the state burial of Mirabeau, with the National Guard
+on duty, the Convention directed that he should be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span>
+exhumed and Marat laid in his place. Mirabeau's body
+therefore was removed at night and thrown into the
+earth in the cemetery of Clamart. Enter Marat.
+Marat, however, lay beneath this imposing dome only
+three poor months, and then off went he, a discredited
+corpse, to the graveyard of St. Etienne-du-Mont close
+by. Voltaire, however, and Rousseau held their own,
+and here they are still, as we have seen.</p>
+
+<p>Voltaire came hither under circumstances at once
+tragic and comic. The cortège started from the site of
+the Bastille, led by the dead philosopher in a cart drawn
+by twelve horses, in which his figure was being crowned
+by a young girl. Opposite the Opera house of that
+day&mdash;by the Porte St. Martin&mdash;a pause was made for
+the singing of suitable hymns (from the Ferney Hymnal!)
+and on it came again. Surrounding the car were fifty
+girls dressed by David for the part; in the procession
+were other damsels in the costumes of Voltaire's characters.
+Children scattered roses before the horses.
+What could be prettier for Voltaire? But it needed
+fine weather, and instead came the most appalling storm,
+which frightened all the young women (including Fame,
+from the car) into doorways, and washed all the colour
+from the great man's effigy.</p>
+
+<p>Remembering all these things, one realises that Rodin's
+<i>Penseur</i>, who was placed before the Panthéon in 1906,
+has something to brood over and break his mind upon.</p>
+
+<p>I noticed also among the graves that of one Ignace
+Jacqueminot, and wondering if it were he who gave his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span>
+name to the rose, I was so conscious of gloom and mortality
+that I hastened to the regions of light&mdash;to the
+sweet air of the Mont du Paris and the blue sky over
+all. And later I climbed to the lantern&mdash;a trifle of
+some four hundred steps&mdash;and looked down on Paris
+and its river and away to the hills, and realised how
+much better it was to be a live dog than a dead lion.</p>
+
+<p>For the tomb of St. Geneviève we have only a few
+steps to take, since it stands, containing all of her that was
+not burned, in the church of St. Etienne-du-Mont. The
+first martyr, although he gives his name to the church
+and is seen suffering the stone-throwers in the relief
+over the door, is, however, as nothing. St. Geneviève
+is the true patron.</p>
+
+<p>St. Etienne's is one of the most interesting churches
+in Paris, without and within. The façade is bizarre and
+attractive, with its jumble of styles, its lofty tower and
+Renaissance trimmings, and the sacristan's prophet's-house
+high up, on the northern side of the odd little
+extinguisher. You see this best, and his tiny watchdog
+trotting up and down his tiny garden, by descending
+the hill a little way and then turning. Within, the
+church is fascinating. The pillars of the very lofty nave
+and aisles are slender and sure, the vaulting is delicate
+and has a unique carved marble rood-loft to divide the
+nave from the choir, stretching right along the church,
+with a rampe of great beauty. The pulpit is held up
+by Samson seated upon his lion and grasping the jawbone
+of an ass.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The last time I saw this pulpit was during the Fête
+of St. Geneviève, which is held early in January, when
+it contained a fluent nasal preacher to whom a congregation
+that filled every seat was listening with rapt attention.
+At the same time a moving procession of other
+worshippers was steadily passing the tomb, which was a
+blaze of light and heat from some hundreds of candles
+of every size. The man in front of me in the queue, a
+stout bourgeois, with his wife and two small daughters,
+bought four candles at a franc each. He was all nervousness
+and anxiety before then, but having watched
+them lighted and placed in position, his face became
+tranquil and gay, and they passed quickly out, re-entered
+their motor-cab and returned to the normal life.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the church was a row of stalls wholly given
+up to the sale of tokens of the saint&mdash;little biographies,
+medals, rosaries, and all the other pretty apparatus of
+the long-memoried Roman Catholic Church. I bought
+a silver pendant, a brief biography, and a tiny metal
+statue. I feel now that had I also bought a candle, as
+I was minded to, I should have escaped the cold that,
+developing two or three days later, kept me in bed for
+nearly a fortnight. One must be thorough.</p>
+
+<p>The church not only has agreeable architectural
+features and the tomb of this good woman, it has also
+some admirable glass, not exactly beautiful but very
+quaint and interesting, including a famous window by the
+Pinaigriers, representing the mystery of the wine-press,
+as drawn from Isaiah: "I have trodden the wine-press
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span>
+alone, and of the people there was none with me".
+The colouring is very rich and satisfying, even if the
+design itself offends by its literalism and want of imagination&mdash;Christianity
+being figured by the blood of
+Christ as it gushes forth into barrels pressed from his
+body as relentlessly as ever was juice of the grape. All
+this is horrible, but one need not study it minutely.
+There are other windows less remarkable but not less
+rich and glowing.</p>
+
+<p>Other illustrious dust that lies beneath this church
+is that of Racine and Pascal.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xiii" id="chapter_xiii"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br />
+TWO ZOOS</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Tour d'Argent&mdash;Frédéric's Homage to America&mdash;A Marquis
+Poet&mdash;The Halle des Vins&mdash;A Free Zoo&mdash;Peacocks in Love&mdash;A
+Reminiscence&mdash;The Museums of the Jardin des Plantes&mdash;A
+Lifeless Zoo&mdash;Babies in Bottles&mdash;The Jardin d'Acclimatation&mdash;The
+Cheerful Gallas&mdash;A Pretty Stable&mdash;Dogs on Velvet&mdash;A
+Canine Père Lachaise&mdash;The Sunday Sportsmen&mdash;Panic at the
+Zoos&mdash;The Besieged Resident&mdash;The Humours of Famine.</p>
+
+<p>On the day of one of my visits to the Jardin des
+Plantes I lunched at the Tour d'Argent, a
+restaurant on the Quai de la Tournelle, famous among
+many dishes for its delicious canard à la presse. No
+bird on this occasion passed through that luxurious
+mill for me: but the engines were at work all around
+distilling essential duck with which to enrich those
+slices from the breast that are all that the epicure eats.
+Over a simpler repast I studied a bewildering catalogue
+of the "Créations of Frédéric"&mdash;Frédéric being M.
+Frédéric Delair, a venerable chef with a head like
+that of a culinary Ibsen, stored with strange lore of
+sauces.</p>
+
+<p>By what means one commends oneself to Frédéric
+I cannot say, but certain it is that if he loves you he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span>
+will immortalise you in a dish. Americans would seem
+to have a short cut to his heart, for I find the Canapé
+Clarence Mackay, the Filet de Sole Loië Fuller, the
+Filet de Sole Gibbs, the Fondu de Merlan Peploe, the
+Poulet de Madame J. W. Mackay, and the Poire Wanamaker.
+None of these joys tempted me, but I am sorry
+now that I did not partake of the Potage Georges Cain,
+because M. Georges Cain knows more about old Paris
+than any man living; and who knows but that a few
+spoonfuls of his Potage might not have immensely
+enriched this book! The Noisette de Pré-Salé Bodley
+again should have been nourishing, for Mr. Bodley is
+the author of one of the best of all the many studies of
+France. Instead, however, I ate very simply, of ordinary
+dishes&mdash;foundlings, so to speak, named after no one&mdash;and
+amused myself over my coffee in examining the
+Marquis Lauzières de Thémines' poésie sur les Créations
+de Frédéric (to the air of "la Corde Sensible"). Two
+stanzas and two choruses will illustrate the noble poet's
+range:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+Que de filets de sole on y consomme!<br />
+Sole Néron, Cardinal, Maruka.<br />
+Dosamentès, Edson ... d'autres qu'on nomme<br />
+Victor Renault, Saintgall, Hérédia.<br />
+La liste est longue! rognons, côtelettes,<br />
+Poulet Sigaud et Canard Mac-Arthur,<br />
+Filets de lièvre Arnold White et Noisettes<br />
+De Pré-salé, Langouste Wintherthur.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Ce que je fais n'est pas une réclame,<br />
+Je vous le dis pour être obligeant.<br />
+Je m'en voudrais d'encourir votre blâme<br />
+Pour avoir trop vanté <span class="smcap">La Tour D'Argent</span>.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span><br />
+Les noms des &OElig;ufs de cent façons s'étalent,<br />
+&OElig;ufs Bûcheron, &oelig;ufs Claude Lowther.<br />
+&OElig;ufs Tuck, Rathbone, &oelig;ufs Mackay que n'égalent<br />
+Que les chaud-froids de volaille Henniker.<br />
+Que d'entremets ont nom de "la Tournelle"!<br />
+Et plus souvent, le vocable engageant<br />
+Du restaurant, car plus d'un plat s'appelle<br />
+(Gibier, beignets, salade) "Tour d'Argent".</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Ami lecteur, pour faire bonne chère,<br />
+Ecoute-moi, ne sois pas négligent,<br />
+Va-t-en dîner, si ta santé t'est chère,<br />
+Au Restaurant nommé <span class="smcap">La Tour D'Argent</span>.</p>
+
+<p>(Odd work for Marquises!)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="cluny" id="cluny"></a>
+<img src="images/i_274.jpg" width="412" height="650" alt="THE MUSÉE CLUNY" />
+<p class="caption">THE MUSÉE CLUNY (COURTYARD)</p></div>
+
+<p>On the way to the Jardin des Plantes from this
+restaurant it is not unamusing to turn aside to the
+Halles des Vins and loiter a while in these genial catacombs.
+Here you may see barrels as the sands of the
+sea-shore for multitude, and raw wine of a colour that
+never yet astonished in a bottle, and I hope, so far as
+I am concerned, never will: unearthly aniline juices
+that are to pass through many dark processes before
+they emerge smilingly as vins, to lend cheerfulness to
+the windows of the épicier and gaiety to the French
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Even with the most elementary knowledge of French
+one would take the Jardin des Plantes to be the Parisian
+Kew, and so to some small extent it is; but ninety-nine per
+cent. of its visitors go not to see the flora but the fauna.
+It is in reality the Zoo of the Paris proletariat. Paris,
+unlike London, has two Zoos, both of which hide
+beneath names that easily conceal their zoological
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span>
+character from the foreigner&mdash;the Jardin des Plantes,
+where we now find ourselves, which is free to all,
+and the Jardin d'Acclimatation, on the edge of the Bois
+de Boulogne, near the Porte Maillot, which costs money&mdash;a
+franc to enter and a ridiculous supplément to your
+cabman for the privilege of passing the fortifications in
+his vehicle: one of Paris's little mistakes. To the
+Jardin d'Acclimatation we shall come anon: just now
+let us loiter among the wild animals of the Jardin des
+Plantes, which is as a matter of fact a far more thorough
+Zoo than that selecter other, where frivolity ranks before
+zoology. Our own Zoo contains a finer collection than
+either, and our animals are better housed and ordered,
+but this Parisian people's Zoo has a great advantage
+over ours in that it is free. All zoological gardens
+should of course be free.</p>
+
+<p>The Jardin des Plantes has another and a dazzling
+superiority in the matter of peacocks. I never saw so
+many. They occur wonderfully in the most unexpected
+places, not only in the enclosures of all the other open-air
+animals, but in trees and on roofs and amid the bushes&mdash;burning
+with their deep and lustrous blue. But on
+the warm day of spring on which I saw them first they
+were not so quiescent. Regardless of the proprieties they
+were most of them engaged in recommending themselves
+to the notice of their ladies. On all sides were spreading
+tails bearing down upon the beloved with the steady
+determination of a three-masted schooner, and now and
+then caught like that vessel in a shattering breeze (of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span>
+emotion) which stirred every sail. In England one might
+feel uncomfortable in the midst of so naked a display of
+the old Adam, but in Paris one becomes more reconciled
+to facts, and (like the new cat in the adage) ceases
+to allow "I am ashamed" to wait upon "I would".
+The peahens, however, behaved with a stolid circumspection
+that was beyond praise. These vestals never lifted
+their heads from the ground, but pecked on and on,
+mistresses of the scene and incidentally the best friends
+of the crowds of ouvriers and ouvrières ("V'là le paon!
+Vite! Vite!") at every railing. But the Parisian peacock
+is not easily daunted. In spite of these rebuffs the
+batteries of glorious eyes continued firing, and wider
+and wider the tails spread, with a corresponding increase
+of disreputable déshabillé behind; and so I left them,
+recalling as I walked away a comic occurrence at school
+too many years ago, when a travelling elocutionist, who
+had induced our headmaster to allow him to recite to the
+boys, was noticed to be discharging all his guns of tragedy
+and humour (some of which I remember distinctly at
+the moment) with a broadside effect that, while it
+assisted the ear, had a limiting influence on gesture and
+by-play, and completely eliminated many of the nuances
+of conversational give and take. Never throughout the
+evening did we lose sight of the full expanse of his shirt
+front; never did he turn round. Never, do I say?
+But I am wrong. Better for him had it been never:
+for the poor fellow, his task over and his badly needed
+guinea earned, forgot under our salvoes of applause the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>
+need of caution, and turning from one side of the platform
+to the other in stooping acknowledgment, disclosed
+a rent precisely where no man would have a rent to
+be.</p>
+
+<p>My advice to the visitor to the Jardin des Plantes is
+to be satisfied with the living animals&mdash;with the seals
+and sea-lions, the bears and peacocks, the storks and
+tigers; and, in fair weather, with the flowers, although
+the conditions under which these are to be observed are
+not ideal, so formally arranged on the flat as they are,
+with traffic so visibly adjacent. But to the glutton for
+museums such advice is idle. Here, however, even he
+is like to have his fill.</p>
+
+<p>Let him then ask at the Administration for a ticket,
+which will be handed to him with the most charming smile
+by an official who is probably of all the bureaucrats of
+Paris the least deserving of a tip, since zoological and
+botanical gardens exist for the people, and these tickets
+(the need for which is, by the way, non-existent) are
+free and are never withheld&mdash;but who is also of all the
+bureaucrats of Paris the most determined to get one,
+even, as I observed, from his own countrymen. Thus
+supplied you must walk some quarter of a mile to a huge
+building in which are collected all the creatures of the
+earth in their skins as God made them, but lifeless and
+staring from the hands of taxidermic man. It is as
+though the ark had been overwhelmed by some such
+fine dust as fell from Vesuvius, and was now exhumed.
+One does not get the same effect from the Natural
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span>
+History Museum in the Cromwell Road; it is, I suppose,
+the massing that does it here.</p>
+
+<p>Having walked several furlongs amid this travesty of
+wild and dangerous life, one passes to the next museum,
+which is devoted to mineralogy and botany, and here
+again are endless avenues of joy for the muséephile and
+tedium for others. Lastly, after another quarter of a
+mile's walk, the palatial museum of anatomy is reached,
+the ingenious art of the late M. Frémiet once more
+providing a hors d'&oelig;uvre. At the Arts Décoratifs we
+find on the threshold a man dragging a bear cub into
+captivity; at the Petit Palais, St. George is killing the
+dragon just inside the turnstile; and here, near the
+umbrella-stand, is a man being strangled by an orang-outang.
+Thus cheered, we enter, and are at once amid
+a very grove of babies in bottles: babies unready for the
+world, babies with two heads, babies with no heads at all,
+babies, in short, without any merit save for the biologist,
+the distiller, and the sightseer with strong nerves.
+From the babies we pass to cases containing examples
+of every organ of the human form divine, and such
+approximations as have been accomplished by elephants
+and mice and monkeys&mdash;all either genuine, in
+spirits, or counterfeited with horrible minuteness in wax.
+Also there are skeletons of every known creature, from
+whales to frogs, and I noticed a case illustrating the
+daily progress of the chicken in the egg.</p>
+
+<p>And now for the other Zoo, the Zoo of the classes.
+Perhaps the best description is to call it a playground
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>
+with animals in it. For there are children everywhere,
+and everything is done for their amusement&mdash;as is only
+natural in a land where children persist through life
+and no one ever tires. In the centre of the gardens is
+an enclosure in which in the summer of 1908 were
+encamped a colony of Gallas, an intelligent and attractive
+black people from the border of Abyssinia, who
+flung spears at a target, and fought duels, and danced
+dances of joy and sorrow, and rounded up zebras, and in
+the intervals sold curiosities and photographs of themselves
+with ingratiating tenacity. It was a strange
+bizarre entertainment, with greedy ostriches darting
+their beaks among the spectators, and these shock-headed
+savages screaming through their diversions, and
+now and again a refined slip of a black girl imploring
+one mutely to give a franc for a five centimes picture
+postcard, or murmuring incoherent rhapsodies over the
+texture of a European dress.</p>
+
+<p>All around the enclosure the Parisian children were
+playing, some riding elephants, others camels, some
+driving an ostrich cart, and all happy. But the gem of
+the Jardin is the Ecurie, on one side for ponies&mdash;scores
+of little ponies, all named&mdash;the other for horses; on
+one side a riding school for children, on the other
+side a riding school for grown-up pupils, perhaps
+the cavalry officers of the future. The ponies are
+charming: Bibiche, landaise, Volubilité, cheval landais,
+Céramon, cheval finlandais, Farceur, from the same
+country, Columbine, née de Ratibor, and so forth.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>
+There they wait, alert and patient too, in the manner
+of small ponies, and by-and-by one is led off to the
+Petit manège for a little Monsieur Paul or Etienne to
+bestride. The Ecurie is a model of its kind, with its
+central courtyard and offices for the various servants,
+sellier, piqueur and so forth.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="lecon" id="lecon"></a>
+<img src="images/i_282.jpg" width="598" height="650" alt="LA LEÇON DE LECTURE" />
+<p class="caption">LA LEÇON DE LECTURE<br />
+<span class="s2">TERBURG</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Near by is a castellated fortress which might belong
+to a dwarf of blood but is really a rabbit house. Every
+kind of rabbit is here, with this difference from the
+rabbit house in our Zoo, that the animals are for sale;
+and there is a fragrant vacherie where you may learn
+to milk; and in another part is a collection of dogs&mdash;tou-tous
+and lou-lous and all the rest of it&mdash;and these
+are for sale too. This is as popular a department as
+any in the Jardin. The expressions of delight and
+even ecstasy which were being uttered before some of
+the cages I seem still to hear.</p>
+
+<p>The Parisians may be kind fathers and devoted
+mothers: I am sure that they are; but to the observer
+in the streets and restaurants their finest shades of
+protective affection would seem to be reserved for dogs.
+One sees their children with bonnes; their dogs are
+their own care. The ibis of Egypt is hardly more
+sacred. An English friend who has lived in the heart
+of Paris for some time in the company of a fox terrier
+tells me that on their walks abroad in the evening the
+number of strangers who stop him to pass friendly
+remarks upon his pet or ask to be allowed to pat it&mdash;or
+who make overtures to it without permission&mdash;is beyond
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span>
+belief. No pink baby in Kensington Gardens is more
+admired. Dogs in English restaurants are a rarity:
+but in Paris they are so much a matter of course that
+a little pâtée is always ready for them.</p>
+
+<p>It was of course a French tongue that first gave utterance
+to the sentiment, "The more I see of men the
+more I like dogs"; but I cannot pretend to have observed
+that the Frenchman suffers any loss in prestige
+or power from this attention to the tou-tou and the lou-lou.
+Nothing, I believe, will ever diminish the confidence
+or success of that lord of creation. He may to the insular
+eye be too conscious of his charms; he may suggest
+the boudoir rather than the field of battle or the field of
+sport; he may amuse by his hat, astonish by his beard,
+and perplex by his boots; but the fact remains that he is
+master of Paris, and Paris is the centre of civilisation.</p>
+
+<p>The Parisians not only adore their dogs in life: they
+give them very honourable burial. We have in London,
+by Lancaster Gate, a tiny cemetery for these friendly
+creatures; but that is nothing as compared with the
+cemetery at St. Ouen, on an island in the Seine. Here
+are monuments of the most elaborate description, and
+fresh wreaths everywhere. The most striking tomb is
+that of a Saint Bernard who saved forty persons but
+was killed by the forty-first&mdash;a hero of whose history
+one would like to know more, but the gate-keeper is
+curiously uninstructed.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I walked among these myriad graves, all very recent
+in date, and was not a little touched by the affection
+that had gone to their making. I noted a few names:
+Petit Bob, Espérance (whose portrait is in bas-relief
+accompanied by that of its master), Peggie, Fan, Pincke,
+Manon, Dick, Siko, Léonette (aged 17 years and 4
+months), Toby, Kiki, Ben-Ben ("toujours gai, fidèle et
+caressant"&mdash;what an epitaph to strive for!), Javotte,
+Nana, Lili, Dedjaz, Trinquefort, Teddy and Prince
+(whose mausoleum is superb), Fifi (who saved lives),
+Colette, Dash (a spaniel, with a little bronze sparrow
+perching on his tomb), Boy, Bizon (who saved his owner's
+life and therefore has this souvenir), and Mosque ("regretté
+et fidèle ami"). There must be hundreds and
+hundreds altogether, and it will not be long before
+another "Dog's Acre" is required.</p>
+
+<p>Standing amid all the little graves I felt that the one
+thing I wanted to see was a dog's funeral. For surely
+there must be impressive obsequies as a preparation to
+such thoughtful burial. But I did not. No melancholy
+cortège came that way that afternoon; Fido's pompes
+funèbres are still a mystery to me.</p>
+
+<p>But to my mind the best dogs in Paris are not such
+toy pets as for the most part are here kept in sacred
+memory, but those eager pointers that one sees on
+Sunday morning at the Gare du Nord, and indeed at all
+the big stations, following brisk, plump sportsmen with
+all the opéra bouffe insignia of the chase&mdash;the leggings
+and the belt and the great satchel and the gun. For
+the Frenchman who is going to shoot likes the world
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span>
+to know what a lucky devil he is: he has none of our
+furtive English unwillingness to be known for what we
+are. I have seen them start, and I have waited about
+in the station towards dinner time just to see them
+return, with their bags bulging, and their steps springing
+with the pride and elation of success, and the faithful
+pointers trotting behind.</p>
+
+<p>Everything is happy at the Jardins des Plantes
+and d'Acclimatation to-day: but it was not always so.
+During a critical period of 1870 and 1871 the cages
+were in a state of panic over the regular arrival of the
+butcher&mdash;not to bring food but to make it. Mr. Labouchere,
+the "Besieged Resident," writing on December
+5th, 1870, says: "Almost all the animals in the Jardin
+d'Acclimatation have been eaten. They have averaged
+about 7 f. a lb. Kangaroo has been sold for 12 f. the lb.
+Yesterday I dined with the correspondent of a London
+paper. He had managed to get a large piece of mufflon,
+and nothing else, an animal which is, I believe, only
+found in Corsica. I can only describe it by saying that
+it tasted of mufflon, and nothing else. Without being
+absolutely bad, I do not think that I shall take up my
+residence in Corsica, in order habitually to feed upon it."</p>
+
+<p>On December 18th Mr. Labouchere was at Voisin's.
+The bill of fare, he says, was ass, horse and English
+wolf from the Zoological Gardens. According to a
+Scotch friend, the English wolf was Scotch fox. Mr.
+Labouchere could not manage it and fell back on the
+patient ass. Voisin's, by the way, was the only restaurant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>
+which never failed to supply its patrons with a
+meal. If you ask Paul, the head waiter, he will give
+you one of the siege menus as a souvenir.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Labouchere's description of typical life during
+the siege may be quoted here as offering material for
+reflection as we loiter about this city so notable to-day
+for pleasure and plenty. "Here is my day. In the
+morning the boots comes to call me. He announces
+the number of deaths which have taken place in the
+hotel during the night. If there are many he is
+pleased, as he considers it creditable to the establishment.
+He then relieves his feelings by shaking his fist in the
+direction of Versailles, and exits growling 'Canaille de
+Bismarck'. I get up. I have breakfast&mdash;horse, <i>café au
+lait</i>&mdash;the <i>lait</i> chalk and water&mdash;the portion of horse
+about two square inches of the noble quadruped. Then
+I buy a dozen newspapers, and after having read them
+discover that they contain nothing new. This brings
+me to about eleven o'clock. Friends drop in, or I drop
+in on friends. We discuss how long it is to last&mdash;if
+friends are French we agree that we are sublime. At
+one o'clock get into the circular railroad, and go to one
+or other of the city gates. After a discussion with the
+National Guards on duty, pass through. Potter about
+for a couple of hours at the outposts; try with glass to
+make out Prussians; look at bombs bursting; creep
+along the trenches; and wade knee-deep in mud through
+the fields. The Prussians, who have grown of late malevolent
+even towards civilians, occasionally send a ball far
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>
+over one's head. They always fire too high. French
+soldiers are generally cooking food. They are anxious
+for news, and know nothing about what is going on.
+As a rule they relate the episode of some <i>combat
+d'avant-poste</i> which took place the day before. The
+episodes never vary. 5 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>&mdash;Get back home; talk to
+doctors about interesting surgical operations; then drop
+in upon some official to interview him about what he is
+doing. Official usually first mysterious, then communicative,
+not to say loquacious, and abuses most people
+except himself. 7 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>&mdash;Dinner at a restaurant; conversation
+general; almost every one in uniform. Still
+the old subjects&mdash;How long will it last? Why does
+not Gambetta write more clearly? How sublime we
+are; what a fool every one else is. Food scanty, but
+peculiar.... After dinner, potter on the Boulevards
+under the dispiriting gloom of petroleum; go home and
+read a book. 12 <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>&mdash;Bed. They nail up the coffins
+in the room just over mine every night, and the tap,
+tap, tap, as they drive in the nails, is the pleasing music
+which lulls me to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>Here is another extract illustrating the pass to which
+a hungry city had come: "Until the weather set in so
+bitter cold, elderly sportsmen, who did not care to stalk
+the human game outside, were to be seen from morning
+to night pursuing the exciting sport of gudgeon fishing
+along the banks of the Seine. Each one was always
+surrounded by a crowd deeply interested in the chase.
+Whenever a fish was hooked, there was as much excitement
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span>
+as when a whale is harpooned in more northern
+latitudes. The fisherman would play it for some five
+minutes, and then, in the midst of the solemn silence of
+the lookers-on, the precious capture would be landed.
+Once safe on the bank, the happy possessor would be
+patted on the back, and there would be cries of 'Bravo!'
+The times being out of joint for fishing in the Seine,
+the disciples of Izaak Walton have fallen back on the
+sewers. The <i>Paris Journal</i> gives them the following
+directions how to pursue their new game: 'Take a
+long strong line, and a large hook, bait with tallow, and
+gently agitate the rod. In a few minutes a rat will come
+and smell the savoury morsel. It will be some time
+before he decides to swallow it, for his nature is cunning.
+When he does, leave him five minutes to meditate over it;
+then pull strongly and steadily. He will make convulsive
+jumps; but be calm, and do not let his excitement gain
+on you, draw him up, <i>et voilà votre dîner</i>.'"</p>
+
+<p>There is still hardly less excitement when a fish is
+landed by a quai fisherman, but the emotion is now
+purely artistic.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xiv" id="chapter_xiv"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br />
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE MADELEINE TO THE
+OPERA</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+From Temple to Church&mdash;Napoleon the Christian&mdash;The Chapelle
+Expiatoire&mdash;More Irony of History&mdash;Mi-Carême&mdash;The Art of
+Insolence&mdash;Spacious
+Streets&mdash;The Champions of France&mdash;Marius&mdash;Letter-boxes
+and Stamps&mdash;The Facteur at the Bed&mdash;Killing a
+Guide no Murder&mdash;The Largest Theatre in the World&mdash;A
+Theatrical Museum.</p>
+
+<p>The Madeleine has had a curious history. The
+great Napoleon built it, on the site of a small
+eighteenth-century church, as a Temple of Glory, a gift
+to his soldiers, where every year on the anniversaries of
+Austerlitz and Jena a concert was to be held, odes read,
+and orations delivered on the duties and privileges of
+the warrior, any mention of the Emperor's own name
+being expressly forbidden. That was in 1806. The
+building was still in progress when 1815 came, with another
+and more momentous battle in it, and Napoleon
+and his proposal disappeared. The building of the
+Temple of Glory was continued as a church, and a church
+it still is; and the memory of Jena and Austerlitz is
+kept alive in Paris by other means (they have, for
+example, each a bridge), no official orations are delivered
+on the soldier's calling, no official odes recited. It was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span>
+a noble idea of the Emperor's, and however perfunctorily
+carried out, could not have left one with a less satisfied
+feeling than some of the present ceremonials in the
+Madeleine, which has become the most fashionable Paris
+church. Napoleon, however, is not wholly forgotten, for
+in the apse, I understand, is a fresco representing Christ
+reviewing the chief champions of Christianity and felicitating
+with them upon their services, the great Emperor
+being by no means absent. Herr Baedeker says
+that the fresco is there, but I have not succeeded in
+seeing it, for the church is lit only by three small
+cupolas and is dark with religious dusk.</p>
+
+<p>Within, the Madeleine is a surprise, for it does not
+conform to its fine outward design. One expects a
+classic severity and simplicity, and instead it is paint and
+Italianate curves. The wisest course for the visitor is
+to avoid the steps and the importunate mendicants at
+the railings, and slip in by the little portal on the west
+side where the discreet closed carriages wait.</p>
+
+<p>Louis XVIII., with his passion&mdash;a very natural one&mdash;to
+obliterate Napoleon and the revolutionaries and
+resume monarchical continuity, wished to complete the
+Madeleine as a monument to Louis XVI. and Marie
+Antoinette; but he did not persevere with the idea.
+He built instead, on the site of the old cemetery of the
+Madeleine, where Louis XVI. and the Queen had been
+buried, the Chapelle Expiatoire. It is their memory
+only which is preserved here, for, after Waterloo, their
+bones were carried to St. Denis, where the other French
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span>
+kings lie. Their statues, however, are enshrined in the
+building (which is just off the Boulevard Haussmann,
+isolated solemnly and impressively among chestnut trees
+and playing children), the king being solaced by an
+angel who remarks to him in the words used by Father
+Edgeworth on the scaffold, "Fils de St. Louis, montez
+au ciel!" and the queen by religion, personified by
+her sister-in-law, Madame Elizabeth. The door-keeper,
+who conducted me as guide, was in raptures over Louis
+XVI.'s lace and the circumstance that he was hewn
+from a single block of marble. I liked his enthusiasm:
+these unfortunate monarchs deserve the utmost that
+sculptor and door-keeper can give them.</p>
+
+<p>Paris has changed its mind more completely and
+frequently than any city in the world&mdash;and no illustration
+of that foible is better than this before us. Consider
+the sequence: first the king; then the prisoner;
+then the execution&mdash;the body and head being carried
+to the nearest cemetery, the Madeleine, where the
+guillotine's victims were naturally flung, and carelessly
+buried. Ten months later the queen's body and head
+follow. (It is said that the records of the Madeleine
+contain an entry by a sexton, which runs in English,
+"Paid seven francs for a coffin for the Widow Capet".)
+That was in 1793. Not until 1815 do they find sepulture
+befitting them, and then this chapel rises in their
+honour and they become saints.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="dentelliere" id="dentelliere"></a>
+<img src="images/i_294.jpg" width="551" height="650" alt="LA DENTELLIÈRE" />
+<p class="caption">LA DENTELLIÈRE<br />
+<span class="s2">JAN VERMEER OF DELFT</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Among other bodies buried here was that of Charlotte
+Corday. Also the Swiss Guards, whom we saw meeting
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>
+death at the Tuileries. A strange place, and to-day,
+in a Paris that cares nothing for Capets, a perfect
+example of what might paradoxically be called well-kept
+neglect.</p>
+
+<p>To me the Madeleine has always a spurious air:
+nothing in it seems quite true. Externally, its Roman
+proportions carry no hint of the Christian religion;
+within, there is a noticeable lack of reverence. Every
+one walks about, and the Suisses are of the world
+peculiarly and offensively worldly. Standing before the
+altar with its representation of the Magdalen, who gives
+the church its name, being carried to Heaven, it is difficult
+to realise that only thirty-eight years ago this very
+spot was running red with the blood of massacred Communards.</p>
+
+<p>I remember the Madeleine most naturally as I saw
+it once at Mi-Carême, from an upper window at Durand's,
+after lunch. It was a dull day and the Madeleine
+frowned on the human sea beneath it; for the
+Place before it and the Rue Royale were black with
+people. The portico is always impressive, but I had
+never before had so much time or such excellent opportunity
+to study it and its relief of the Last Judgment,
+an improbable contingency to which few of us were
+giving much thought just then. Not only were the
+steps crowded, but two men had climbed to the green
+roof and were sitting on the very apex of the building.</p>
+
+<p>The Mi-Carême carnival in Paris, I may say at once,
+is not worth crossing the Channel for. It is tawdry
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>
+and stupid; the life of the city is dislocated; the
+Grands Boulevards are quickly some inches deep in
+confetti, all of which has been discharged into faces and
+even eyes before reaching the ground; the air is full of
+dust; and the places of amusement are uncomfortably
+crowded. The Lutetian humours of the Latin Quarter
+students and of Montmartre are not without interest for
+a short time, but they become tedious with extraordinary
+swiftness and certainty as the morning grows grey.</p>
+
+<p>Each side of the Madeleine has its flower markets,
+and they share the week between them. Round and
+about Christmas a forest of fir-trees springs up. At
+the back of the Madeleine omnibuses and trams converge
+as at the Elephant.</p>
+
+<p>For a walk along the Grands Boulevards this temple
+is the best starting-point; but I do not suggest that
+the whole round shall be made. By the Grands Boulevards
+the precisian would mean the half circle from the
+Madeleine to the Place de la République and thence
+to the Place de la Bastille; or even the whole circle,
+crossing the river by the Pont Sully to the Boulevard
+St. Antoine, which cuts right through the Surrey side
+and crosses the river by the Pont de la Concorde and
+so comes to the Rue Royale and the Madeleine again.
+Those are the Grands Boulevards; but when the term
+is conversationally used it means nothing whatever but
+the stretch of broad road and pavement, of vivid kiosques
+and green branches, between the Madeleine and the Rue
+Richelieu: that is the Grands Boulevards for the flâneur
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span>
+and the foreigner. All the best cafés to sit at, all the
+prettiest women to stare at, all the most entertaining
+shop windows, are found between these points.</p>
+
+<p>The prettiest women to stare at! Here I touch on
+a weakness in the life of Paris which there is no doubt
+the Boulevards have fostered. Staring&mdash;more than
+staring, a cool cynical appraisement&mdash;is one of the
+privileges which the Boulevardier most prizes. I have
+heard it said that he carries staring to a fine art; but
+it is not an art at all, and certainly not fine; it is just
+a coarse and disgusting liberty. It is nothing to him
+that the object of his interest is accompanied by a man;
+his code ignores that detail; he is out to see and to
+make an impression and nothing will stop him. One
+must not, however, let this ugly practice offend one's
+sensibility too much. Foreigners need not necessarily
+do as the Romans do, but it is not their right to be too
+critical of Rome; and liberty is the very air of the
+Boulevards. Live and let live. If one is going to be
+annoyed by Paris, one had better stay at home.</p>
+
+<p>The Grands Boulevards might be called the show-rooms
+of Paris: it is here that one sees the Parisians.
+In London one may live for years and never see a
+Londoner; not because Londoners do not exist, but
+because London has no show-rooms for their display.
+There is no Boulevard in London; the only streets that
+have a pavement capable of accommodating both spectators
+and a real procession of types are deserted, such
+as Portland Place and Kingsway. The English, who
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span>
+conquer and administer the world, dislike space; the
+French, a people at whose alleged want of inches we
+used to mock, rejoice in space. Think of the Champs-Elysées
+and the Bois, and then think of Constitution
+Hill and Hyde Park, and you realise the difference.
+Take a mental drive by any of the principal Boulevards&mdash;from
+the Madeleine eastward to the Place de la
+République and back to the Madeleine again by way
+of the Boulevards de Magenta and Clichy and down the
+Boulevard Malesherbes, and then take a mental drive
+from Hyde Park Corner by way of Piccadilly, the
+Strand, Fleet Street, Cannon Street, Lombard Street,
+Cheapside, Holborn, Oxford Street and Park Lane to
+Hyde Park Corner again and you realise the difference.
+In wet weather in Paris it is possible to walk all day and
+not be splashed. Think of our most fashionable thoroughfare,
+just by Long's Hotel, when it is raining&mdash;our Rue
+de la Paix. The only street in London of which a
+Frenchman would not be ashamed is the Mile End Road.</p>
+
+<p>At the Taverne Olympia&mdash;just past the old houses
+standing back from the pavement, on the left, which
+are built on the wall of the old moat, when this Boulevard
+really was a bulwark or fortification&mdash;at the Taverne
+Olympia, upstairs, is one of the few billiard saloons in
+Paris in which exhibition games are continually in
+progress, and in which one can fill many amusing half-hours
+and perhaps win a few louis. Years ago I used
+to frequent the saloon in a basement under the Grand
+Café, a few doors east of the Olympia, but it has lost
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>
+some of its prestige. The best play now is at Olympia
+and at Cure's place in the Rue Vivienne. Every day of
+the year, for ever and ever, a billiard match is in progress.
+So you may say is, in the winter, the case in
+London at Burroughs and Watts', or Thurston's, but
+these are very different. In London the match is for a
+large number of points and it may last a week or a fortnight.
+Here there are scores of matches every afternoon
+and evening and the price of admission is a consommation.
+By virtue of one glass of coffee you may sit for
+hours and watch champion of France after champion of
+France lose and win, win and lose.</p>
+
+<p>The usual game is played by three champions of
+France and is for ten cannons off the red. The names
+of the players, on cards, are first flung on the table, and
+the amateur of sport advances from his seat and stakes
+five francs on that champion of France whom he favours.
+Five francs is the unit. On my first visit, years ago,
+the champion whom I, very unsoundly but not perhaps
+unnaturally, supported, was one Lucas. Poor fellow,
+on that afternoon he did his best, but he never got
+home. The great Marius was too much for him.
+Marius in those days was a very fine player and the
+hero of the saloon at the Grand Café. A Southerner
+I should guess; for I have seen his doubles by the score
+in the cafés of Avignon and Nîmes. He was short and
+thick, with a bald head and a large sagacious nose and a
+saturnine smile and a heavy moustache. Winning and
+losing were all one to him, although it is understood
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>
+that fifty centimes are contributed by each of his backers
+to a champion of France when he brings it off. Marius
+looked down his nose in the same way whatever happened.
+He was no Roberts; he had none of the
+Cæsarian masterfulness, none of the Napoleonic decision,
+of that king of men. The modern French game does not
+lend itself to such commanding excellence, such Alpine
+distinction. The cannon is all: there is no longer any
+of the quiet and magical disappearance of the ball into
+a pocket which makes the English game so fascinating.</p>
+
+<p>Such was Marius when I first saw him, and quite lately
+I descended to his cellar again and found him unaltered,
+except that he was no longer a master except very occasionally,
+and that he had grown more sardonic. I do
+not wonder at it. It may not be, in Paris, "a lonely
+thing to be champion," as Cashel Byron says, but it
+must be a melancholy thing to be no longer the champion
+that you were. A home of rest for ex-champions would
+draw my guinea at once.</p>
+
+<p>The ten or eight cannons off the red, I might add,
+are varied now and then. Sometimes there is a match
+between two players for a hundred points. Sometimes
+three players will see which can first make eight cannons,
+each involving three cushions (trois bandes). This is
+a very interesting game to watch, although it may be
+a concession to decadence.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"><a name="bievre" id="bievre"></a>
+<img src="images/i_302.jpg" width="380" height="650" alt="THE RUE DE BIÈVRE" />
+<p class="caption"><span class="center s2">PANTHÉON</span><br />
+THE RUE DE BIÈVRE<br />
+<span class="s2">(FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>We come next to the Rue Scribe, and crossing it,
+are at "Old England," a shop where the homesick may
+buy such a peculiarly English delicacy as marmalade,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>
+beneath the shadow of the gigantic Grand Hotel,
+notable not only for its million bedrooms but for marking
+the position of one of the few post offices of Paris,
+and also the only shop in the centre of the city which
+keeps a large and civilised stock of Havana cigars. One
+can live without Havana cigars, but post offices are
+a necessity, and in Paris they conceal themselves with
+great success; while, as for letter-boxes, it has been
+described as a city without one. To a Londoner accustomed
+to the frequent and vivid occurrence at street
+corners of our scarlet obelisks, it is so. Quite recently
+I heard of a young Englishman, shy and incorrigibly
+one-languaged, who, during a week in Paris, entrusted
+all his correspondence to a fire-alarm. But, as a matter
+of fact, Paris has letter-boxes in great number, only for
+the most part they are so concealed as to be solely for the
+initiated. Directly one learns that every tobacconist also
+sells stamps and either secretes a letter-box somewhere
+beneath his window, or marks the propinquity of one,
+life becomes simple.</p>
+
+<p>Although normally one never has, in France, even in
+the official receptacle of one of the chief of the Bureaux
+des Postes, any of that confidence that one reposes in
+the smallest wall-box in England; yet one must perforce
+overcome this distrust or use only pneumatiques. The
+French do not carry ordinary letters very well, but
+if you register them nothing can keep the postman
+from you. A knock like thunder crashes into your
+dreams, and behold he is at your bedside, alert and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span>
+important, be-ribboned with red tape, tendering for your
+signature a pen dipped in an inkstand concealed about
+his person. Every one who goes to France for amusement
+should arrange to receive one registered letter.</p>
+
+<p>Its letter-boxes may be a trifle farcical, but in its
+facilities given to purchasers of stamps France makes
+England look an uncivilised country. Why it should
+be illegal for any one but a postal official to supply
+stamps in my own land, I have never been informed,
+nor have any of the objections to the system ever been
+explained away. In France you may get your stamps
+anywhere&mdash;from tobacconists for certain; from waiters
+for certain; from the newspaper kiosques for certain;
+and from all tradespeople almost for certain: hence one
+is relieved of the tiresome delays in post offices that are
+incident to English life. But I am inclined to think
+that when it comes to the post office proper, England
+has the advantage. The French post office (when you
+have found it) is always crowded and always overheated;
+and you remember what I told the men in the Mint.</p>
+
+<p>To return to the Grand Hotel, I am minded to express
+the wish that something could be done to rid its
+pavement of the sly leering detrimental with an umbrella
+who comes up to the foreigner and offers his services as a
+guide to the night side of Paris. Not until an Englishman
+has killed one of these pests will this part of Paris
+be endurable. But from what I have observed I should
+say that few murders are less likely to occur....</p>
+
+<p>And so we come to the Café de la Paix, and turning
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span>
+to the left, the Opera is before us. The Opera is one
+of the buildings of Paris that are taken for granted.
+We do not look at it much: we think of it as occupying
+the central position, adjacent to Cook's, useful as
+a place of meeting; we buy a seat there occasionally,
+and that is all. And yet it is the largest theatre in
+the world (the work of that Charles Garnier whose
+statue is just outside), and although it is not exactly
+beautiful, its proportions are agreeable; it does not
+obtrude its size (and yet it covers three acres); it sits
+very comfortably on the ground, and an incredible
+amount of patient labour and thought went to its
+achievement, as any one may see by walking round it
+and studying the ornamentation and the statuary,
+among which is Carpeaux's famous lively group "La
+Danse". One very pleasant characteristic of the Opera
+is the modesty with which it announces its performances:
+nothing but a minute poster in a frame, three or
+four times repeated, giving the information to the passer-by.
+Larger posters would impair its superb reserve.</p>
+
+<p>The Opera has a little museum, the entrance to which
+is in the Rue Auber corner, by the statue of the architect
+(with his plan of the building traced in bronze
+below his bust). This museum is a model of its kind&mdash;small
+but very pertinent and personal in character.
+Here are one of Paganini's bows and his rosin box;
+souvenirs of Malibran presented to her by some Venetian
+admirers in 1835; Berlioz' season ticket for the Opera
+in 1838, and a page of one of his scores; Rossini in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>
+a marble statuette, asleep on his sofa, wearing that
+variety of whisker which we call a Newgate fringe;
+Rossini on his death-bed, drawn by L. Roux, and a page
+of a score and a cup and saucer used by him; a match
+box of Gounod's, a page of a score, and his marble bust;
+Meyerbeer on his death-bed, drawn by Mousseaux, a
+decoration worn by that composer, and a page of his
+score; two of Cherubini's tobacco boxes and a page of
+his score; Danton's clay caricature of Liszt&mdash;all hair
+and legs&mdash;at the piano, and a caricature of Liszt playing
+the piano while Lablache sings and Habeneck conducts;
+a bust of Fanny Cerrito, danseuse, in 1821&mdash;with a
+mischievous pretty face&mdash;that Cerrito of whom Thomas
+Ingoldsby rhymed; and a bust of Emma Livry, a danseuse
+of a later day, who died aged twenty-three from injuries
+received from fire during the répétition génerale of
+the "Muette de Portici" on November 15th, 1862. In
+a little coffer near by are the remains of the clothes the
+poor creature was wearing at the time. What else is
+there? Many busts, among them Delibes the composer
+of "Coppélia," whose grave we shall see in the Cimetière
+de Montmartre: here bearded and immortal; autograph
+scores by Verdi, Donizetti, Victor Massé, Auber, Spontini
+(whose very early piano also is here), and Hérold; a
+caricature by Isabey of young Vestris bounding in mid-air,
+models of scenes of famous operas, and a host of
+other things all displayed easily in a small but
+sufficient room. If all museums were as compact and
+single-minded!
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xv" id="chapter_xv"></a>CHAPTER XV<br />
+A CHAIR AT THE CAFÉ DE LA PAIX</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Green Hour&mdash;In the Stalls of Life&mdash;National Contrasts and the
+Futility of Drawing Them&mdash;The Concierge&mdash;The Bénéfice Hunters&mdash;The
+Claque&mdash;The Paris Theatre&mdash;The Paris Music Hall&mdash;The
+Everlasting Joke&mdash;The Real French&mdash;A Country of Energy&mdash;A
+City of Waiters&mdash;Ridicule&mdash;Women&mdash;Cabmen&mdash;The Levelling
+of the Tourist&mdash;French Intelligence&mdash;The Chauffeurs&mdash;The Paris
+Spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>And now since it is the "green hour"&mdash;since it is
+five o'clock&mdash;let us take a chair outside the Café
+de la Paix and watch the people pass, and meditate,
+here, in the centre of the civilised world, on this wonderful
+city of Paris and this wonderful country of France.</p>
+
+<p>I am not sure but that when all is said it is not these
+outdoor café chairs of Paris that give it its highest charm
+and divide it from London with the greatest emphasis.
+There are three reasons why one cannot sit out in this
+way in London: the city is too dirty; the air is rarely
+warm enough; and the pavements are too narrow. But
+in Paris, which enjoys the steadier climate of a continent
+and understands the æsthetic uses of a pavement, and
+burns wood, charcoal or anthracite, it is, when dry,
+always possible; and I, for one, rejoice in the privilege.
+This "green hour"&mdash;this quiet recess between five and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>
+six in which to sip an apéritif, and talk, and watch the
+world, and anticipate a good dinner&mdash;is as characteristically
+French as the absence of it is characteristically English.
+The English can sip their beverages too, but how different
+is the bar at which they stand from the comfortable
+stalls (so to speak) in the open-air theatres of the Boulevards
+in which the French take their ease.</p>
+
+<p>At every turn one is reminded that these people live
+as if the happiness of this life were the only important
+thing; while if we subtract a frivolous fringe, it may
+be said of the English that (without any noticeable gain
+in such advantages as spirituality confers) they are always
+preparing to be happy but have not yet enough money
+or are not yet quite ready to begin. The Frenchman
+is happy now: the Englishman will be happy to-morrow.
+(That is, at home; yet I have seen Englishmen in Paris
+gathering honey while they might, with both hands.)</p>
+
+<p>But the French and English, London and Paris, are
+not really to be compared. London and Paris indeed
+are different in almost every respect, as the capitals of
+two totally and almost inimically different nations must
+be. For a few days the Englishman is apt to think that
+Paris has all the advantages: but that is because he is
+on a holiday; he soon comes to realise that London is
+his home, London knows his needs and supplies them.
+Much as I delight in Paris I would make almost any
+sacrifice rather than be forced to live there; yet so long
+as inclination is one's only master how pleasant are her
+vivacity and charm. But comparisons between nations
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>
+are idle. For a Frenchman there is no country like
+France and no city like Paris; for an Englishman England
+is the best country and London the most desirable
+city. For a short holiday for an Englishman, Paris is a
+little paradise; for a short holiday for a Frenchman,
+London is a little inferno.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="head" id="head"></a>
+<img src="images/i_310.jpg" width="474" height="650" alt="GIRL&#39;S HEAD" />
+<p class="caption">GIRL&#39;S HEAD<br />
+<span class="s2">ÉCOLE DE FABRIANO</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Each country is the best; each country has advantages
+over the other, each country has limitations. The
+French may have wide streets and spacious vistas, but
+their matches are costly and won't light; the English,
+even in the heart of London, may be contented with
+narrow and muddy and congested lanes, but their sugar
+at least is sweet.</p>
+
+<p>The French may have abolished bookmakers from
+their race-courses and may give even a cabman a clean
+napkin to his meals, but their tobacco is a monopoly.
+The English may fill their streets with newspaper posters
+advertising horrors and scandals, but they are permitted
+now and then to forget their vile bodies. The French
+may piously and prettily erect statues of every illustrious
+child of the State, but their billiard tables are
+now without pockets. London may have a cleaner Tube
+railway system than Paris, but Paris has the advantage
+of no lifts and a correspondence ticket at a trifling cost
+which will take you everywhere, whereas London's Tubes
+belonging to different companies the correspondence is
+expensive. Again with omnibuses, London may have
+more and better, but here again the useful correspondence
+system is to be found only in Paris.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span></p>
+
+<p>London may be in darkness for most of the winter
+and be rained upon by soot all the year round; but at
+any rate the Londoner is master in his own house or
+flat and not the cringing victim of a concierge, as every
+Parisian is. That is something to remember and be
+thankful for. Paris has an atmosphere, and a climate,
+and good food, and attentive waiters, and a cab to every
+six yards of the kerb, and no petty licensing tyrannies, and
+the Champs-Elysées, and immunity from lurid newspaper
+posters, and good coffee, and the Winged Victory, and
+Monna Lisa; but it also has the concierge. At the entrance
+to every house is this inquisitive censorious janitor&mdash;a
+blend in human shape of Cerberus and the Recording
+Angel. The concierge knows the time you go out
+and (more serious) the time you come in; what letters
+and parcels you receive; what visitors, and how long
+they stay. The concierge knows how much rent you
+pay and what you eat and drink. And the worst of it
+is that since the concierge keeps the door and dominates
+the house you must put a good face on it or you will
+lose very heavily. Scowl at the concierge and your life
+will become a harassment: letters will be lost; parcels
+will be delayed; visitors will be told you are at home;
+a thousand little vexations will occur. The concierge
+in short is a rod which, you will observe, it is well to kiss.
+The wise Parisian therefore is always amiable, and generous
+too, although in his heart he wishes the whole system
+at the devil.</p>
+
+<p>And here I ought to say that although one is thus
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>
+conscious of certain of the defects and virtues of each
+nation, I have no belief whatever in any large interchange
+of characteristics being possible. Nations I
+think can borrow very little from each other. What
+is sauce for the goose is by no means necessarily sauce
+for the oie, and the meat of an homme can easily be the
+poison of a man.</p>
+
+<p>The French and the English base life on such different
+premises. To put the case in a nutshell, we may
+say that the French welcome facts and the English avoid
+them. The French make the most of facts; the English
+persuade themselves that facts are not there. The
+French write books and plays about facts, and read and
+go to the theatre to see facts; the English write books
+and plays about sentimental unreality, and read and go
+to the theatre in order to be diverted from facts. The
+French live quietly and resignedly at home among facts;
+the English exhaust themselves in games and travel and
+frivolity and social inquisitiveness, in order to forget that
+they have facts in their midst.</p>
+
+<p>One always used to think that the English were the
+most willing endurers of impositions and monopolies;
+but I have come to the conclusion that a people that
+can continue to burn French matches and use French
+ink and blotting-paper, bend before the concierge and
+suffer the claque and the French theatre attendant,
+must be even weaker. Only a people in love with
+slavery would continue to endure the black bombazined
+harpies who turn the French theatres into infernos, first
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span>
+by their very presence and secondly by their clamour
+for a bénéfice. They do nothing and they levy a tax
+on it. So far from exterminating them, this absurd
+lenient French people has even allowed them to dominate
+the cinematoscope halls which are now so numerous
+all over Paris. I sit and watch them and wonder what
+they do all day: in what dark corner of the city they
+hang like bats till the evening arrives and they are
+free to poison the air of the theatres and exact their
+iniquitous secret commission. The habit of London
+managers to charge sixpence for a programme&mdash;an
+advertisement of his wares such as every decent and
+courteous tradesman is proud to give away&mdash;is sufficiently
+monstrous; but I can never enough honour them
+for excluding these bénéfice hunters.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever may be said of French acting and French
+plays there is no doubt that our theatres are more comfortable
+and better managed. A Frenchman visiting a
+theatre in London has no difficulties: he buys his seat
+at the office, is shown to it and the matter ends. An
+Englishman visiting a theatre in Paris has no such ease.
+He must first buy his ticket (and let him scrutinise the
+change with some care and despatch); this ticket, however,
+does not, as in London, carry the number of his
+seat: it is merely a card of introduction to the three
+gentlemen in evening dress and tall hats who sit side by
+side in a kind of pulpit in the lobby. One of them
+takes his ticket, another consults a plan and writes a
+number on it, and the third hands it back. Another
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>
+difficulty has yet to come, for now begins the turn of
+the harpies. Why the English custom is not followed,
+and a clean sweep made of both the men in the pulpit
+and the women inside, one has no notion; for in addition
+to being a nuisance they must reduce the profits.</p>
+
+<p>I mentioned the claque just now. That is another
+of the Frenchman's darling bugbears which the English
+would never stand. Every Frenchman to whom I have
+spoken about it shares my view that it is an abomination,
+but when I ask why it is not abolished he merely
+shrugs his shoulders: "Why should it be?&mdash;one can
+endure it," is the attitude; and that indeed is the
+Frenchman's attitude to most of the things that he finds
+objectionable. They are, after all, only trimmings;
+the real fabric of his life is not injured by them; therefore
+let them go on. Yet while one can understand the
+persistence of certain Parisian defects, the long life of
+the claque remains a mystery. Upon me the periodical
+and mechanical explosions of this body of hirelings have
+an effect little short of infuriation. One is told that
+the actors are responsible rather than the managers, and
+this makes its continuance the more unreasonable, for
+the result has been that in their efforts to acquire the
+illusion of applause, they have lost the real thing.
+French audiences rarely clap any more.</p>
+
+<p>When it comes to the consideration of the French
+stage, there is again no point in making comparisons.
+It is again a conflict of fact and sentiment. The
+French are intensely interested in the manifestations of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span>
+the sexual emotion, and they have no objection to see
+the calamities and embarrassments and humours to which
+it may lead worked out frankly on the boards or in
+literature: hence a certain sameness in their plays and
+novels. The majority of the English still think that
+physical matters should be hidden: hence our dramatists
+and novelists having had to find other themes, adventure,
+eccentricity and character have won their predominant
+place. That is all there is to it. The French stage is
+the best&mdash;to a Frenchman or a gallicised Englishman;
+the English stage is the best&mdash;to the English. The
+English go rather to see; the French to hear. In other
+words a blind Frenchman would be better pleased with
+his national stage than a blind Englishman with his.
+The blind Frenchman would at any rate not miss the
+jokes, which, though he knew them all before, he could
+not resist; whereas the Englishman would be deprived
+of the visible touches of which the personæ of our drama
+are largely built up. In a drama of passion, whether
+treated seriously or lightly, words necessarily are more
+than idiosyncrasies.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="benedicite" id="benedicite"></a>
+<img src="images/i_318.jpg" width="511" height="650" alt="LE BÉNÉDICITÉ" />
+<p class="caption">LE BÉNÉDICITÉ<br />
+<span class="s2">CHARDIN</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>In the Paris music halls the comic singers merely
+sing&mdash;they have little but words to give. London
+music hall audiences may have an undue affection for
+red noses and sordid domestic details; but they do
+expect a little character, even if it is coarse character,
+during the evening, and they get it. There is little in
+the French hall. Personality is discouraged here; richness,
+quaintness, unction, irresponsibility, eccentricity&mdash;such
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span>
+gifts as once pleased us in Dan Leno and now are
+to be found in a lesser degree but very agreeably in
+Wilkie Bard&mdash;these are superfluities to a French comic
+singer. All that is asked of him is that he shall be
+active, shall have a resonant voice, and shall commit to
+memory a sufficient number of cynical reflections on life.
+A gramophone producing any rapid indecent song would
+please the French more than a hundred Harry Lauders.
+(And yet when all is said it must be far easier to live in a
+country where decency, as we understand and painfully
+cultivate it, has not everywhere to be considered. The
+life at any rate of the French author, publisher, editor and
+magistrate, to name no others, is immensely simplified.)</p>
+
+<p>But from my point of view the worst characteristic
+of the French music hall and variety stage is the revue.
+The revue is indeed a standing proof of the incontrovertible
+fact that however the hotel proprietors may
+feel about it, the Parisian does not want English people
+in his midst. (Why should he?) The revue in its
+quiddity is a device for excluding foreigners from
+theatres; for it is not only dull and monotonous, but
+being for the most part a satire on Parisian politics is
+incomprehensible too. I am not here to defend the
+English pantomime, but not all its agonies (as Ruskin
+called them) reach such a height of tedium as a revue
+can achieve. A Frenchman ignorant of English at
+Drury Lane on Boxing Night might be bewildered and
+even stunned; but he would at any rate know something
+of what was happening and his eyes would be kept busy.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span>
+An Englishman at a revue knows nothing, for there is
+no story, and very little money is spent on the stage
+picture: it is just a steady cataract of topical talk. I
+have endured many revues, always hoping against hope
+that some one would be witty or funny, that some ingenious
+satirical device would occur. But I have never
+been rewarded. No matter what the nominal subject,
+the jokes have been the same: the old old mots à
+double entente, the old old outspoken indecency....</p>
+
+<p>The stream of people continues to be incessant and
+of incredible density&mdash;all walking at the same pace, all
+talking as only the French can talk, rich and poor
+equally owners of the pavement. Now and then a
+camelot offers a toy or a picture postcard; boys bring
+<i>La Patrie</i> or <i>La Presse</i>; a performer bends and twists
+a piece of felt into every shape of hat, culminating in
+Napoleon's famous chapeau à cornes....</p>
+
+<p>One thing that one notices is the absence of laughter.
+The French laugh aloud very seldom. Even in their
+theatres, at the richest French jokes, their approval is
+expressed rather in a rippling murmur counterfeiting
+surprise than a laugh. Animation one sees, but on
+these Boulevards behind that is often a suggestion of
+anxiety. The dominant type of face seen from a chair
+at the Café de la Paix is not a happy one....</p>
+
+<p>It is when one watches this restless moving crowd, or
+the complacent audiences at the farces, or the diners in
+restaurants eating as if it were the last meal, and when
+one looks week after week at the comic papers of Paris,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span>
+with their deadly insistence on the one and apparently
+only concern of Parisian life, that one has most of all to
+remind oneself that these people are not the French, and
+that one is a superficial tourist in danger of acquiring
+very wrong impressions. This is the fringe, the froth.
+One has only to remember a very few of the things we
+have seen in Paris to realise the truth of this. Never
+was a harder working people. Look at the early hours
+that Paris keeps: contrast them with London's slovenly
+awakening. Look at the amazing productivity of a
+notoriously idle and careless set&mdash;the artists: the old
+Salon with its miles of pictures twice a year, and the
+other Salons, hardly less crowded, and the minor exhibitions
+too. Look at the industry of the Paris stage:
+the new plays that are produced every week, involving
+endless rehearsals day and night. Look at the energy
+of the French authors, dramatic as well as narrative, of
+the journalists and printers. Think of the engineers,
+the motor-car manufacturers, the gardeners and the
+vintners. Think of the bottle-makers. (But one cannot:
+such a thought causes the head to reel in this city
+of bottles.) No, we are not seeing France, we foreign
+visitors to "the gay capital". Don't let us labour
+under any such mistake. The industrious, level-headed,
+cheerful French people do not exhibit themselves to the
+scrutinising eyes of the Café de la Paix, do not spend
+all their time as <i>Le Rire</i> would have us believe, do not
+over eat and over drink.</p>
+
+<p>Around and about one all the time, as one watches
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span>
+this panorama, the swift and capable waiters are busy.
+Every one carries away from Paris one mastering impression
+upon the inward eye: I am not sure that
+mine is not a blur of waiters in their long white aprons.
+At the Paris Exhibition of 1900, over the principal
+entrance at the south-west corner of the Place de la
+Concorde, was the gigantic figure of a young and
+fashionable woman in the very heyday of her vivacity,
+allurement and smartness. She personified Paris. But
+not so would I symbolise that city. In any coat of arms of
+Paris that I designed would certainly be a capable young
+woman, but also a waiter, sleek, attentive and sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>Paris may be a city of feminine charm and domination;
+but to the ordinary foreigner, and especially the Englishman,
+it is far more a city of waiters. Women we
+have in England too: but waiters we have not. There
+are waiters in London, no doubt, but that is the end of
+them: there are, to all intents and purposes, no waiters
+in the provinces, where we eat exclusively in our own
+houses. And even in London we must brace ourselves
+to find such waiters as there are: we must indulge in
+heroic feats of patience, and, once the waiter comes into
+view, exercise most of the vocal organs to attract his
+notice and obtain his suffrages. In other words, there
+is in London perhaps one waiter to every five thousand
+persons; whereas in Paris there are five thousand
+waiters, more or less, to every one person. Or so it
+seems. It is a city of waiters; it is <i>the</i> city of waiters.</p>
+
+<p>Still the people stream by, and one wonders whence
+the idea comes that the French are a particularly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span>
+small race. It is not true. Look at that tall boulevardier
+with some one else's hat (why do so many Frenchmen
+seem to be wearing other men's hats?) and the
+immense beard. Look at those two long-haired artists
+from the Latin Quarter, in velvet clothes and black
+sombreros. In England they would be stared at and
+laughed at; but here no one is laughed at at all, and
+only the women are stared at. It is interesting to
+note how little street ridicule there is in France. The
+Frenchman mocks, but he does not, as I think so many
+of the English do, search for the ridiculous; or at any
+rate it is not the same kind of ridiculousness that we
+pillory. In England we bring such sandpaper of prejudice
+and public opinion to bear upon eccentricity that
+every one becomes smooth and ordinary&mdash;like every one
+else. But in France&mdash;to the superficial observer, at
+any rate&mdash;individuality is encouraged and nourished;
+in France either no one is ridiculous or every one is.</p>
+
+<p>Some one once remarked to me that never in Paris
+do you see a woman with any touch of the woods. It
+is true. The Parisian women suggest the boudoir, the
+theatre, the salon, the sewing-room, the kitchen, and
+now and then even the fields; but never the woods....</p>
+
+<p>One misses also in Paris the boy of from fifteen to
+eighteen. Younger boys there are, and young men
+abound, but youths of that age one does not much see,
+and very rarely indeed a father and son together. In
+fact the generations seem to mix very little: in the
+restaurants men of the same age are usually together:
+beards lunch with beards....
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And the road is dense too. There is a block every
+few minutes, while the agents in the centre of the
+carrefour do their best to control the four streams of
+traffic. It is odd that a people with so much sense of
+order and red tape should fail so signally to produce an
+organiser of traffic. Certain it is that the stupidest
+Kentish giant who joins the Metropolitan police force
+has a better idea of such a duty than any of these
+polished gentlemen in caps. Partly perhaps because in
+London the police are feared and obeyed, and in Paris
+the drivers, particularly the cabmen, care for no one.
+The words Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité are not stencilled
+all over our churches and public buildings, you see.</p>
+
+<p>The cabmen! My impression now is, writing here in
+England, that the Paris cochers are all exactly alike.
+They have white hats and blue coats and bad horses
+and black moustaches, and their backs entirely fill the
+landscape. They beat their horses and shout at them
+all the time. One seldom sees an accident, although
+they never look as if they were going to avoid one.
+That is partly because they are a weary and cynical
+folk, and partly because in France the roads belong to
+vehicles, and not, as in England, to foot-passengers. In
+England if you are run over, you can prosecute the
+driver and get damages; in France if you are run over,
+the driver (one has always heard) can prosecute you for
+being in the way.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="italiens" id="italiens"></a>
+<img src="images/i_326.jpg" width="650" height="510" alt="THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS" />
+<p class="caption">THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS<br />
+<span class="s2">(LOOKING EAST)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>No matter with what fervour is the entente fostered
+and nourished, the Parisian cabman will see to it that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span>
+the hatchet is never too deeply interred, that the racial
+excrescences are not too smoothly planed. Polite hotel
+managers, obsequious restaurateurs, smiling sommeliers
+and irradiated shopkeepers may do their best to assure
+the Anglo-Saxon that he is among a people that exist
+merely to do him honour and adore his personality; but
+directly he hails a cab he knows better. The truth is
+then his. Not that the Parisian cocher hates a foreigner.
+Nothing so crude as that. He merely is possessed by a
+devil of contempt that prompts him to humiliate and
+confound us. To begin with he will not appear to want
+you as a fare; he will make it a favour to drive you at
+all. He will then begin his policy of humorous pin-pricks.
+Though you speak with the accent of Mounet-Sully
+himself he will force you to pronounce the name
+of your destination not once but many times, and then
+very likely he will drive you somewhere else first. You
+may step into his cab with a feeling that Paris is becoming
+a native city: you will emerge wishing it at the bottom
+of the sea. That is the cocher's special mission in life&mdash;subtly
+and insidiously to humiliate the tourist. He does
+it like an artist and as an artist&mdash;for his own pleasure.
+It is the only compensation that his dreary life carries.</p>
+
+<p>The French, I fancy, are not less capable of stupidity
+than any other people. There is an idea current that
+they are the most intelligent of races, but I believe this
+to be a fallacy, proceeding from the fact that the French
+language lends itself to epigrammatic expression, and
+that every French child dips his cup into the common
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>
+reservoir of engaging idioms and adroit phrases.
+This means that French conversation, even among the
+humblest, is better than English conversation under
+similar and far more favourable conditions; but it means
+no more. It gives no real intelligence. The incapacity
+of the ordinary Frenchman to get enough imagination
+into his ear (so fine that it can distinguish between the
+most delicate vowel sounds in his own language) to enable
+it to understand a foreign pronunciation is partly a
+proof of this. But take him at any time off his regular
+lines, present a new idea to him, and he can be as stupid
+as a Sussex farm labourer. It is the same with America.
+Just as the French language imposes wit on its user, so is
+every American, man or woman, fitted at birth with the
+mechanism of humour. Yet how few are humorous!</p>
+
+<p>But the cocher is not the only cabman of Paris:
+there remains the driver of the auto. The motor cab
+has not elbowed out the horse cab in Paris as it has in
+London, nor probably will it, for the Parisians are not
+in a hurry; but for Longchamp and such excursions
+the auto is indispensable, and the motor cabman becomes
+more and more a characteristic of the streets. Our
+London chauffeurs are sufficiently implacable, blunt
+and churlish, but the Parisian chauffeur is like fate.
+There is no escape if you enter his car: he lights
+his cigarette, sinks his back into his seat, and his
+shoulders into his back, and his head into his shoulders,
+and drives like the devil. He seems to have no life of
+his own at all: he exists merely to urge his car wherever
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span>
+he is told. The foreigner has no hold whatever upon
+the chauffeur; he arranges the meter to whatever tariff
+he pleases, and before you can examine the dial at the end
+of the journey he has jerked up the flag. When you
+keep him waiting his meter devours your substance. Always
+terrible, he is worst in winter, when he is dressed
+entirely in hearth-rugs. The old cocher for me.</p>
+
+<p>But it grows chilly and it is dinner time. Let us go.
+Yet first I would remind you that we chose the Café de
+la Paix for our reverie only because it is the centre, and
+we were intent upon the centre. But the pavement
+chairs of all the cafés of Paris are interesting, and it is
+equally good to sit in any populous bourgeois quarter
+where one can watch the daily indigenous life of this city,
+which the visitor who remains for the most part in the
+visitors' districts can so easily miss. The busy, capable
+girls and women shopping&mdash;their pretty uncovered heads
+all so neatly and deftly arranged, and their bags and
+baskets in their hands; the chair mender blowing his
+horn; the teams of white horses, six or eight in single
+file, with high collars and bells, drawing blocks of stone
+or barrels of wine; the tondeur de chiens, with his
+mournful pipe and box of scissors; the brisk errand boys;
+the neat little milliners with their band-boxes; now and
+then a slovenly soldier and a well-groomed erect agent.
+Paris as a spectacle is perpetually new and amusing.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xvi" id="chapter_xvi"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br />
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE
+PLACE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Christmas Baraques&mdash;The Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin&mdash;The Rue
+Laffitte&mdash;La Musée Grévin&mdash;The Bibliothèque Nationale&mdash;The
+Roar of Finance&mdash;Tailors as Cartoonists&mdash;A Bee-hive Street&mdash;Cities
+within the City&mdash;Pompes Funèbres&mdash;The Church as Advertiser&mdash;The
+Great Marguery&mdash;Gates which are not Gates&mdash;The
+Life of St. Denis&mdash;Highways from Paris&mdash;The First Theatre&mdash;St.
+Martin's Act of Charity&mdash;The Arts et Métiers; a Modern Cluny&mdash;Statues
+of the Republic.</p>
+
+<p>From the Place de l'Opéra to the Place de la République
+is an interesting and instructive walk,
+but at no time of the day a very easy one; and between
+five o'clock and half-past six, and eight and ten, on the
+north pavement, it is always almost a struggle; but when
+the baraques are in full swing around Christmas and the
+New Year, it is a struggle in earnest, at any rate as far
+as the Rue Drouot. Indeed Christmas and New Year,
+but especially Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, are
+great times in France, and presents are exchanged as
+furiously as with us.</p>
+
+<p>On Christmas Eve&mdash;Réveillon as it is called&mdash;no one
+would do anything so banal as to go to bed. The restaurants
+obtain a special permission to remain open,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>
+and tables are reserved months in advance. Montmartre,
+never very sleepy, takes on a double share of wakefulness.</p>
+
+<p>The first street on our left, the Rue de la Chaussée
+d'Antin, is one of the busiest in Paris, with excellent
+shops and many interesting associations. Madame
+Récamier lived at No. 7, the site of the Hôtel d'Antin.
+So also did Madame Necker and Madame Roland, and
+for a while Edward Gibbon. Chopin lived at No. 5.
+This street, by the way, has suffered almost more than
+any other from the Parisian fickleness in nomenclature.
+It began as the Rue de la Chaussée Gaillon, then Rue
+de l'Hôtel Dieu, then Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin, from
+Richelieu's Hôtel d'Antin, then the Rue Mirabeau, from
+the revolutionary who lodged and died at No. 42, then,
+when Mirabeau's body was removed ignominiously from
+the Panthéon, the Rue Mont Blanc, and in 1815 it
+became once again the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the Rue Laffitte one should stop, because
+one gets there a glimpse of Montmartre's white
+and oriental cathedral, hanging in mid-air, high above
+Paris and the church of Notre Dame de Lorette. This
+street is, to me, one of the most entertaining in the city,
+for almost every other shop is a picture-dealer's, and to
+loaf along it, on either side, is practically to visit a gallery.
+Two or three of these shops keep as a continual
+sign the words "Bronzes de Barye". The Rue Laffitte
+was named after the banker Jacques Laffitte, whose bank
+was in the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin. Cerutti, who
+delivered Mirabeau's funeral oration, set up his revolutionary
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span>
+journal <i>La Feuille Villageoise</i> here. At the
+Hôtel Thelusson at the end of the street the Incroyables
+and the Merveilleuses assembled. Among the guests
+was General Buonaparte, and it was here that he first
+met Joséphine Beauharnais.</p>
+
+<p>The Musée Grévin, to which we soon come on the
+left, is the Parisian Tussaud's; and it is as much better
+than Tussaud's as one would expect it to be. Tussaud's
+is vast and brilliant; the Musée Grévin is small and
+mysterious. There is so little light that every one seems
+wax, and one has to look very narrowly and anxiously
+at all motionless figures. The particular boast of the
+Grévin is its groups: not so much the Pope and his
+pontifical cortège, the coulisses of the Opera (a scene of
+coryphées and men about town), and the Fête d'Artistes,
+as the admirable tableaux of the Revolution. To the untutored
+eye of one who, like myself, avoids waxworks,
+the Grévin figures and grouping are good and, what is
+perhaps more important, intelligent. Pains have been
+taken to make costumes and accessories historically accurate,
+and in many cases the actual articles have been
+employed, notably in the largest tableau of all&mdash;"Une
+Soirée à Malmaison"&mdash;which was arranged under the
+supervision of Frédéric Masson, the historian, an effigy
+of whom stands near by. Among these scenes the historical
+sense of the French child can be really quickened.
+There are also tableaux of Rome in the time of the early
+Christians&mdash;very clever and painful.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="madame" id="madame"></a>
+<img src="images/i_334.jpg" width="486" height="650" alt="MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE" />
+<p class="caption">MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE<br />
+<span class="s2">MADAME LE BRUN</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>At the Rue Drouot, at the conjunction of the Boulevards
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>
+des Italiens and de Montmartre, there is an angle.
+Hitherto we have been walking west by north; we now
+shall walk west by south. From this point we shall also
+observe a difference in the character of the street, which
+will become steadily more bourgeois. At this corner,
+where the traffic is always so congested, owing largely
+to the omnibuses with the three white horses abreast
+that cross to and from the Rue Richelieu, all the best
+cafés are behind us.</p>
+
+<p>If that £32,000,000 reconstruction scheme of which
+I have already spoken comes to pass, this point will be
+unrecognisable, for among the items in that programme
+is the uniting of the Boulevard Haussmann, which now
+comes to an abrupt end at the Rue Taitbout, with the
+Boulevard de Montmartre, which, as a glance at the
+map will show, is in a line with it. But my hope is that
+the improvement will be long deferred.</p>
+
+<p>It is in the Rue Richelieu that the Bibliothèque
+Nationale stands, where the foreign resident in Paris
+may read every day, precisely as at the British Museum,
+provided always that he is certified by his Consul to be
+worthy of a ticket, and the visitor may on certain days
+examine priceless books and autographs, prints and maps
+and cameos and wonderful antiquities. Here once lived
+Cardinal Mazarin, and it is in the galerie that bears his
+name that the rarest bindings are to be seen&mdash;some from
+Grolier's own shelves. Among the MSS. is that of
+Pascal's <i>Pensées</i>. The library, which is now perhaps
+the finest in existence, has been built up steadily by the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span>
+kings of France, even from Charlemagne, but Louis
+XII. was the first of them who may really be called a
+bibliophile, to be worthily followed by François I. It
+was not until 1724, in the reign of Louis XV., that the
+royal collection was removed to this building. The
+Revolution greatly added to its wealth by transferring
+hither the libraries of the destroyed convents and monasteries.
+The treasures in the Cabinet de Médailles
+I cannot describe; all I can say is that they ought not
+to be missed. They may be called an extension of the
+Galerie d'Apollon in the Louvre.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving the Bibliothèque I should add that in
+certain of its rooms, with an entrance in the Rue Vivienne,
+exhibitions are periodically held, and it is worth while to
+ascertain if one is in progress. In the spring of 1908 I saw
+there a most satisfying display of Rembrandt's etchings.</p>
+
+<p>It was in one of the old book-shops in the neighbourhood
+of the Bibliothèque that I received my first
+impression of the Paris Bourse. I was turning over
+little pocket editions of Voltaire's <i>Pucelle</i> and naughty
+Crébillons and such ancient boudoir fare, when I began
+to be conscious of a sound as of a thousand boys' schools
+in deadly rivalry. On hurrying out to learn the cause
+I found Paris in its usual condition of self-containment
+and intent progress; no one showed any sign of inquisitiveness
+or excitement; but on the steps of the Bourse
+I observed a shouting, gesticulating mob of men who
+must, I thought, be planning a new Reign of Terror.
+But no; they were merely financiers engaged in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>
+ordinary work of life. The Bourse is free, and I climbed
+the steps, pushed through the money-makers, and entered.
+Never again. I have seen men engaged in the unlovely
+task of acquiring lucre by more or less improper means
+in various countries, but I never saw anything so horrible
+as the rapacity expressed upon the faces of this heated
+Bourse populace.</p>
+
+<p>Capel Court is not indifferent to the advantages of a
+successful coup, but Capel Court differs from the Bourse
+not only in a comparative retention of its head, but also
+in a certain superficial appearance of careless aristocracy.
+Capel Court dresses well and keeps time for a practical
+joke now and then. The Bourse is shabby and in the
+grip of avarice. Wall Street and the Chicago pit, I am
+told, are worse: I have not seen them; but no race-course
+scramble for odds could exceed the horrors of that day
+in the Bourse. The home, by the way, of this daily vociferous
+service of Mammon, was built on the site of the
+old convent of the Filles de St. Thomas. During the
+Revolution the connection between the Bourse and
+Heaven was even closer, for the church of the Petits
+Pères was then set apart for Exchange purposes.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the point where we left the Boulevard&mdash;at
+the Rue Richelieu&mdash;I am moved to ask what would
+happen in London if Messrs. Baker in the Tottenham
+Court Road or Messrs. Gardiner in Knightsbridge were
+suddenly to break out into caricature and embellish their
+windows with scarifying cartoons of Kings, Kaisers, Presidents
+and Premiers? The question may sound odd,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>
+but it is simple enough if you visit the High Life tailor
+at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, or, farther east, a
+similar establishment at the corner of the Rue de Rougemont,
+for it then becomes obvious that it is quite part
+of the duties of the large Parisian clothier to do his part
+in forming public opinion. These cartoons are always
+bold and clever, although often too municipal for the
+foreigner's apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>I have said somewhere that one of my favourite streets
+in Paris is the Rue Montorgeuil. That is largely, as
+I have explained, because it is old and narrow, and the
+people swarm in it, and the stalls are so many, and the
+houses are high and white and take the sun so bravely,
+and it smells of Paris; and also, of course, because the
+Compas d'Or is here, bringing the middle ages so nigh.
+Another favourite is the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre
+(which is now the next on the left eastward) for
+its busy happy shops and its moving multitudes. In its
+own narrow way it is almost as crowded as the Grands
+Boulevards.</p>
+
+<p>A little way up this street, on the right, is a gateway
+leading into a very curious backwater, as noticeably quiet
+as the highways are noisy and restless: the Cité Bergère,
+the largest of those cités within a cité of which Paris has
+several, to be compared in London only with St. Helen's
+Place in Bishopsgate or Park Row at Knightsbridge. The
+Cité Bergère is practically nothing but hotels&mdash;high and
+narrow, with dirty white walls and dirty green shutters&mdash;very
+cheap, and very incurious as to the occupations
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>
+of their guests, whether male or female. It has a gate
+at each end which is closed at night and penetrated
+thereafter only at the goodwill of the concierge, whom
+it is well to placate. The Cité Bergère leads into the
+Cité Rougemont (hence offering an opportunity to an
+innkeeper between the two to hang out the imposing
+sign of the Hôtel des Deux Cités), and from the Cité
+Rougemont you gain that district of Paris where the
+woollen merchants congregate.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the Grands Boulevards, the next street
+on the left is the Rue Rougemont, and if we take this
+we come in a few moments to the Conservatoire, where
+so many famous musicians have been taught, and where
+Coquelin and Sarah Bernhardt learned the art of elocution.
+There is a little museum at the Conservatoire in
+which every variety of musical instrument is preserved,
+together with a few personal relics, such as a cast of
+Paganini's nervous magical hand, with its long sharply
+pointed fingers, and the death-mask of Chopin.</p>
+
+<p>Close to the Conservatoire is the darkest church in
+Paris&mdash;Saint Eugène, a favourite spot for funeral services.
+I chanced once to stay in a room overlooking
+this church, until the smell of mortality became too
+constant. There was a funeral every day: every morning
+the undertakers' men were busy in the preparations
+for the ceremony&mdash;draping the façade with heavy curtains
+of a blackness that seemed to darken the circumambient
+air: every afternoon removing it, together with
+the other trappings of the ritual&mdash;the candlesticks and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>
+furniture. It is not without reason that the French
+undertaker ambushes beneath the imposing style of
+Pompes Funèbres.</p>
+
+<p>It was, by the way, on the walls of Saint Eugène,
+each side of the door, that I first saw any of those
+curious affiches, made, I suppose, necessary, or at any rate
+prudent, by recent events in France, directing notice to&mdash;advertising,
+I almost wrote, and indeed why not?&mdash;the
+advantages of religion. Religion (this is what the
+notice came to in essence), religion has its points after all.
+When President Fallières' daughter was married, it remarked,
+where was the ceremony performed? In a church.
+(Ha, Ha!) Who, it asked, is called to visit a man on his
+death-bed, no matter how wicked he has been? A priest.
+(Touché!) And so forth. Surely a strange document.</p>
+
+<p>In the same street is an old book-stall whose shelves
+are fastened to the wall, giving the appearance of an
+open-air library for all&mdash;the Carnegie idea at its best.
+There used to be one on the side of the Hôtel Chatham
+in the Rue Volney (opposite Henry's excellent American
+Bar) but it has now gone.</p>
+
+<p>We may regain the Boulevards by turning down the
+long Rue du Faubourg Poissonière, which leads direct,
+through the Rue Montorgeuil, to the Halles and the
+Pont Neuf&mdash;a very good walk. Passing Marguery's
+great restaurant on the left, famous for its filet de sole
+in a special sauce, which every one should eat once if
+only to see the great Marguery on his triumphant progress
+through the rooms, bending his white mane over
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>
+honoured guests, we come to a strange thing&mdash;a massive
+archway in the road, parallel with the pavements, which
+I think needs a little explanation. It will take us far
+from the Grands Boulevards: as far, in fact, as <i>The
+Golden Legend</i>; for the arch is the Porte St. Denis, and
+St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="pont" id="pont"></a>
+<img src="images/i_342.jpg" width="650" height="436" alt="LE PONT DE MANTES" />
+<p class="caption">LE PONT DE MANTES<br />
+<span class="s2">COROT</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre: Moreau Collection)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>St. Denis was not a Frenchman but an Athenian,
+who was converted by St. Paul in person, after considerable
+discussion. Indeed, discussion was not enough: it
+needed a miracle to win him wholly. "And as," wrote
+Caxton, "S. Denis disputed yet with S. Paul, there
+passed by adventure by that way a blind man tofore them,
+and anon Denis said to Paul: If thou say to this blind
+man in the name of thy God: See, and then he seeth,
+I shall anon believe in him, but thou shalt use no words
+of enchantment, for thou mayst haply know some words
+that have such might and virtue. And S. Paul said:
+I shall write tofore the form of the words, which be
+these: In the name of Jesu Christ, born of the virgin,
+crucified and dead, which arose again and ascended into
+heaven, and from thence shall come for to judge the
+world: See. And because that all suspicion be taken
+away, Paul said to Denis that he himself should pronounce
+the words. And when Denis had said those
+words in the same manner to the blind man, anon the
+blind man recovered his sight. And then Denis was
+baptized and Damaris his wife and all his meiny, and
+was a true Christian man and was instructed and taught
+by S. Paul three years, and was ordained bishop of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>
+Athens, and there was in predication, and converted that
+city, and great part of the region, to christian faith."</p>
+
+<p>Denis was sent to France by Pope Clement, and he
+converted many Parisians and built many churches,
+until the hostile strategy of the Emperor Domitian prevailed
+and he was tortured, the scene of the tragedy
+being Montmartre. "The day following," says Caxton,
+"Denis was laid upon a gridiron, and stretched all
+naked upon the coals of fire, and there he sang to our
+Lord saying: Lord thy word is vehemently fiery, and
+thy servant is embraced in the love thereof. And after
+that he was put among cruel beasts, which were excited
+by great hunger and famine by long fasting, and as
+soon as they came running upon him he made the sign
+of the cross against them, and anon they were made
+most meek and tame. And after that he was cast into a
+furnace of fire, and the fire anon quenched, and he had
+neither pain ne harm. And after that he was put on
+the cross, and thereon he was long tormented, and after,
+he was taken down and put into a dark prison with his
+fellows and many other Christian men.</p>
+
+<p>"And as he sang there the mass and communed the
+people, our Lord appeared to him with great light, and
+delivered to him bread, saying: Take this, my dear
+friend, for thy reward is most great with me. After
+this they were presented to the judge and were put
+again to new torments, and then he did do smite off
+the heads of the three fellows, that is to say, Denis,
+Rusticus, and Eleutherius, in confessing the name of
+the holy Trinity. And this was done by the temple of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span>
+Mercury, and they were beheaded with three axes. And
+anon the body of S. Denis raised himself up, and bare
+his head between his arms, as the angel led him two
+leagues from the place, which is said the hill of the
+martyrs, unto the place where he now resteth, by his
+election, and by the purveyance of God. And there
+was heard so great and sweet a melody of angels that
+many of them that heard it believed in our Lord."</p>
+
+<p>Any one making the pilgrimage from, say, Notre
+Dame to the town of St. Denis to-day, can follow the
+saint's footsteps, for the Rue St. Denis at the foot of
+Montmartre leads out into the Rue du Faubourg St.
+Denis, and that street right over Montmartre, Caxton's
+hill of the martyrs, to St. Denis itself. I do not pretend
+that the legend as it is thus given has not been subjected
+to severe criticism; but when one has no certain
+knowledge, the best story can be considered the best
+evidence, and I like Caxton better than the others, even
+though it conflicts a little with the legend of St.
+Geneviève. It is she, I might add, who is credited with
+having inaugurated the pilgrimage to St. Denis's bones.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue St. Denis was more than the road to the
+saint's remains: it was the great north road out of Paris
+to the sea. Just as the old Londoners bound for the
+north left by the City Road and passed through the
+village of Highgate, so did the French traveller leave
+by the Rue St. Denis and pass through the village of
+St. Denis. Similarly the Rue St. Martin was the high-road
+to Germany. In the old days, when this street
+was a highway, the Porte St. Denis had some meaning,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>
+for it stood as a gateway between the city and the
+country; but to-day, when the course of traffic is east
+and west, it stands (like the Porte St. Martin) merely
+as an obstruction in the Grand Boulevard&mdash;not quite so
+foolish as our own revised Marble Arch, but nearly
+so. The Porte St. Denis dates from 1673 and celebrates,
+as the bas-reliefs indicate, the triumphs of
+Louis XIV. in Germany and Holland; the Porte
+St. Martin (to which we are just coming) belongs to
+the same period and commemorates other successes of
+the same monarch.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue St. Denis is one of the most entertaining
+of the old streets of Paris, although adulterated a little
+by omnibuses and a sense of commerce. But to have
+boundless time before one, and no cares, and no fatigue,
+and starting at the Porte St. Denis to loiter along it
+prepared to penetrate every inviting court and alluring
+by-street&mdash;that is a great luxury. The first theatre in
+Paris, and indeed in France, was in the Hospital of the
+Trinity in the Rue St. Denis. That was early in the
+fifteenth century, and it was designed for the performance
+of Mystery plays in which the protagonist was, of
+course, Jesus Christ. Paris has now many theatres,
+with other ideals; but whatever their programmes may
+be, they proceed from that early and pious spring.</p>
+
+<p>We come next to the Boulevard de Strasbourg, running
+north to the Gare de l'Est, and the Boulevard
+de Sébastopol, running south to the Ile de la Cité;
+and then to the second archway, the Porte St. Martin.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span>
+St. Martin (who was Bishop of Tours) lived in Paris for
+a while, and it was here that he performed the miracle
+of healing a leper by embracing him&mdash;an act commemorated
+by Henri I. in the founding of the Priory of
+St. Martin, which stood a little way down the Rue
+St. Martin on the left, on a site on which the Musée
+des Arts et Métiers now stands. But it was at Amiens
+that the saint's most beautiful act&mdash;the gift of his cloak
+to a beggar&mdash;was performed, and perhaps I may be
+allowed to quote here, from another book of mine, the
+translation of a poem by M. Haraucourt, the curator of
+the Cluny museum, celebrating that deed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<span class="i4">CHARITY</span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">Because so bitter was the rain,<br />
+Saint Martin cut his cloak in twain,<br />
+<span class="i1">And gave the beggar half of it</span><br />
+To cover him and ease his pain.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">But being now himself ill clad,<br />
+The Saint's own case was no less sad.<br />
+<span class="i1">So piteously cold the night;</span><br />
+Though glad at heart he was, right glad.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Thus, singing, on his way he passed,<br />
+While Satan, grim and overcast,<br />
+<span class="i1">Vowing the Saint should rue his deed,</span><br />
+Released the cruel Northern blast.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Away it sprang with shriek and roar,<br />
+And buffeted the Saint full sore,<br />
+<span class="i1">Yet never wished he for his cloak;</span><br />
+So Satan bade the deluge pour.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Huge hail-stones joined in the attack,<br />
+And dealt Saint Martin many a thwack,<br />
+<span class="i1">"My poor old head!" he smiling said,</span><br />
+Yet never wished his cape were back.<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">"He must, he shall," cried Satan, "know<br />
+Regret for such an act," and lo,<br />
+<span class="i1">E'en as he spoke the world was dark</span><br />
+With fog and frost and whirling snow.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Saint Martin, struggling toward his goal,<br />
+Mused thoughtfully, "Poor soul! poor soul!<br />
+<span class="i1">What use to him was half a cloak?</span><br />
+I should have given him the whole."</p>
+
+<p class="poem">The cold grew terrible to bear,<br />
+The birds fell frozen in the air:<br />
+<span class="i1">"Fall thou," said Satan, "on the ice</span><br />
+Fall thou asleep, and perish there."</p>
+
+<p class="poem">He fell, and slept, despite the storm,<br />
+And dreamed he saw the Christ Child's form<br />
+<span class="i1">Wrapped in the half the beggar took,</span><br />
+And seeing Him, was warm, so warm.
+</p>
+
+<p>The Arts et Métiers is a museum devoted to the
+progress of mechanics and the useful crafts: a kind of
+industrial exhibition, a modern utilitarian Cluny. It
+is a memorial of the world's ingenuity and the ingenuity
+of France in particular, and one cannot have a much
+better reminder that the frivolity of the Grands Boulevards
+is not all. Apropos, however, of the frivolity of
+the Grands Boulevards, I may say that the case that
+was attracting most interest on the Sunday that I was
+here contained a collection of all the best mechanical
+toys of the past dozen years, with their dates affixed.
+The only article in the vast building which seemed to
+serve no useful purpose was a mirror cracked during the
+Commune by a bullet, with the bullet still in it. In the
+square opposite the Musée is the statue of Béranger, who
+for many years made the ballads of the French nation.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="porte" id="porte"></a>
+<img src="images/i_350.jpg" width="498" height="650" alt="THE PORTE ST. DENIS" />
+<p class="caption">THE PORTE ST. DENIS<br />
+<span class="s2">(SOUTH FAÇADE)</span></p></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>
+Returning to the Grands Boulevards once more, we
+pass first the Porte St. Martin theatre, where the great
+Coquelin played Cyrano, and where he was rehearsing
+<i>Chantecler</i> when he died, and then the Ambigu,
+home of sensational melodrama, and come very shortly
+to the Place de la République, with its great central
+monument. The Republic thus celebrated is not merely
+the Third and present Republic, but all the efforts in
+that direction which the French have made, as the
+twelve reliefs round the base will show, for they begin
+with the scene in the Jeu de Paume in 1789, and end
+with the National Fête on July 14th, 1880. Paris would
+still have statues of the République if this were to go,
+for there is one by Dalou, the sculptor of these bas-reliefs,
+in the Place de la Nation, and another by Soitoux
+at the Institut. Dalou (whose work we saw in such
+profusion at the Little Palace in the Champs-Elysées)
+made a very spirited and characteristic group, with the
+Republic standing high on a chariot being drawn by
+lions and urged forward by an ouvrier and an ouvrière.</p>
+
+<p>There is another and hardly less direct walk eastward
+to the Place de la République, which, taken slowly and
+amusedly, instructs one as fully in the manners of the
+busy small Parisian as the Boulevards in those of the
+flâneur. This route is by the Rue de Provence, the
+Rue Richer, the Rue des Petites-Ecuries and the Rue
+Château-d'Eau&mdash;practically a straight line, and in the
+old days a highway. You see the small Parisian at his
+busiest&mdash;at her busiest&mdash;this way.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xvii" id="chapter_xvii"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br />
+MONTMARTRE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+Steep Streets&mdash;The Musée Moreau&mdash;The Sacré-C&oelig;ur&mdash;Françoise-Marguerite&mdash;Paris
+and Her Beggars&mdash;A Ferocious Cripple&mdash;The
+Communard Insurrection&mdash;The Maison Dufayel&mdash;Heinrich
+Heine&mdash;The Cimetière de Montmartre&mdash;The Boulevard de Clichy&mdash;Cabarets
+Good and Bad&mdash;An Aged Statesman is Entertained&mdash;Three
+Bals&mdash;Paris and Late Hours&mdash;The Night Cafés&mdash;The
+Tireless Dancers&mdash;A Coat-tail&mdash;The Dead Maître d'Hôtel.</p>
+
+<p>One may gain Montmartre by every street that
+runs off the Grands Boulevards on the left, between
+the Opéra and the Place de la République; but
+when the night falls and the tide begins to turn that
+way, it is the Rue Blanche and the Rue Pigalle that do
+most of the work. All are very steep. To the wayfarer
+climbing the hill in no hurry, I recommend for
+its interest the Rue des Martyrs (Balzac once lived at
+No. 47), leading out of the Rue Laffitte; or, starting
+from the Boulevards at a more easterly point, one may
+gain it by the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre, which runs
+into the Rue des Martyrs at Notre Dame de Lorette
+and is full of activity and variety.</p>
+
+<p>By taking the Rue de la Rochefoucauld one may
+spend a few minutes in a little white building there
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span>
+which was once the home and studio of the painter
+Gustave Moreau and is now left to the nation as a
+permanent memorial of his labours. In industry the
+man must have approached Rubens and Rembrandt,
+for this, though a large house, is literally filled with
+paintings and drawings and studies, which not only
+cover the walls but cover screens built into the walls,
+and screens within screens, and screens within those.
+The menuisier and Moreau together have contrived to
+make No. 14 Rue de la Rochefoucauld the most tiring
+house in Paris&mdash;at least to me, who do not admire
+the work of this painter, or at any rate do not want
+to see more of it than is in the Luxembourg, where
+may be seen several of his pictures, including the most
+famous of all, the Salome. Herr Baedeker considers
+that Moreau's works have a charm of their own, but
+I do not find it. I find a striving after the grandiose
+and startling, with only occasional lapses into sincerity
+and good colour. It is better than Wiertz, no doubt;
+but less entertaining, because less shocking.</p>
+
+<p>Montmartre's life may for our purpose be divided
+into three distinct periods: day, evening, and the small
+hours. By day one may roam its streets of living and
+of dead and study Paris from its summit; in the evening
+its cabarets are in full swing; and then comes midnight
+when its supper cafés open, not to close or cease
+their melodies until the shops are doing business again.</p>
+
+<p>Montmartre (so called because it was here that St.
+Denis and his associates were put to death) really is a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span>
+mountain, as any one who has climbed to the Sacré-C&oelig;ur
+can tell. The last two hundred yards are indeed
+nearly as steep as the Brecon Beacons; but the climb is
+worth it if only for the view of Paris. (There is, however,
+a funicular railway.) As for the cathedral, that
+seems to me to be better seen and appreciated from the
+distance: from the train as one enters Paris in the late
+afternoon, with the level sun lighting its pure walls;
+from the heights on the south side of the river; from
+the Boulevard des Italiens up the Rue Laffitte; and
+from the Buttes-Chaumont, as in Mr. Dexter's exquisite
+drawing. For the cathedral itself is not particularly
+attractive near at hand, and within it is cold and
+dull and still awaiting its glass. It was, however, one
+of the happiest thoughts that has come to Rome in
+our time to set this fascinating bizarre Oriental building
+here. It gave Paris a new note that it will now never
+lose.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving, one ought perhaps to have a peep at
+Françoise-Marguerite, for one is not likely to see her
+equal again. Françoise-Marguerite, otherwise known
+as La Savoyarde de Montmartre, is the great bell given
+to the cathedral by the province of Savoy. She weighs
+nineteen tons, is nine feet tall, and her voice has remarkable
+timbre.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the new cathedral lies the old church of St.
+Pierre-de-Montmartre, on the side of which, it is said,
+once stood a temple of Mars. (Hence, for some lexicographers,
+Mont-Mars and Montmartre; but I prefer to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span>
+think of St. Denis wandering here without his head.)
+It was in the crypt of this church, I have somewhere
+read, that Ignatius Loyola, with Xavier and Laine,
+founded the order of Jesuits.</p>
+
+<p>I attended early mass at the Sacré-C&oelig;ur church on
+January 1st, 1908. It was snowing lightly and very
+cold, and as I came away, at about eight, and descended
+the hill towards Paris, I was struck by the spectacle
+of the lame and blind and miserable men and women
+who were appearing mysteriously from nowhere to descend
+the hill too, groping and hobbling down the
+slippery steepnesses. Such folk are an uncommon sight
+in Paris, where every one seems to be, if not robust, at
+any rate active and capable, and where, although it
+eminently belongs to the poor as much as to the rich,
+extreme poverty is rarely seen. In London, where the
+poor convey no possessive impression, but, except in
+their own quarters, suggest that they are here on
+sufferance, one sees much distress. In Paris none,
+except on this day, the first of the year&mdash;and on one
+or two others, such as July 14th&mdash;when beggars are
+allowed to ask alms in the streets. For the rest of the
+year they must hide their misery and their want, although
+I still tremble a little as I remember the importunities
+of the Montmartre cripple of ferocious aspect
+and no legs at all, fixed into a packing-case on wheels,
+who, having demanded alms in vain, hurls himself night
+after night along the pavement after the hard-hearted,
+urging his torso's chariot by powerful strokes of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>
+huge hands on the pavement, as though he rowed
+against Leander, with such menacing fury that I for one
+have literally taken to my heels. He is the only beggar
+I recollect meeting except on the permitted days, and
+then Paris swarms with them.</p>
+
+<p>Standing on the dome of the cathedral one has the
+city at one's feet, not as wonderfully as on the Eiffel
+Tower, but nearly so. From the Buttes-Chaumont we
+see Montmartre: here we see the Buttes-Chaumont,
+which, before it was a park, shared with Montmartre
+the gypsum quarries from which plaster of Paris is
+made. Beyond the Buttes-Chaumont is Père Lachaise,
+a hill strangely mottled by its grave-stones, while immediately
+below us is the Cimetière du Nord, which we
+are about to visit for the sake of certain very interesting
+tombs.</p>
+
+<p>One realises quickly the strategical value of this mountain.
+Paris has indeed been bombarded from it twice&mdash;by
+Henri IV., and again, only thirty-eight years ago.
+It was indeed on Montmartre that the Communard insurrection
+began, for it was the cannon on these heights
+that the rebel soldiers at once made for after the assassination
+of their officers. They held them for a while,
+but were then overpowered and forced to take up their
+quarters in the Buttes-Chaumont and Père Lachaise,
+which were shelled by the National Guard from Montmartre
+until the brief but terrible mutiny was over.</p>
+
+<p>The great dome, close by us on the left, which might
+be another Panthéon, crowns the Maison Dufayel. Who
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>
+is Dufayel? you ask. Well, who is Wanamaker, who
+was Whiteley? M. Dufayel is the head of the gigantic
+business in the Boulevard Barbès, a northern continuation
+of the Boulevard de Magenta. His advertisements
+are on every hoarding. I think the Maison Dufayel is
+well worth a visit, especially as there is no need to buy
+anything: you may instead sip an apéritif, listen to the
+band or watch the cinematoscope. One also need have
+none of that fear of what would happen were there to
+be a sudden panic which always keeps me nervous if ever
+I am lured into the Magasins du Louvre or the Galeries
+Lafayette; for at Dufayel's there is space, whereas at
+those vast shopping centres there is a congestion that,
+in a time of stress would lead to perfectly awful results.
+The Maison Dufayel is not so varied a repository as
+Wanamaker's or Whiteley's: but in its way it is hardly
+less remarkable. Its principal line is furniture, and I
+never saw so many beds in my life. It was M. Dufayel
+who brought to perfection the deposit system of payment,
+and his agents continually range the otherwise
+pleasant land of France, collecting instalments.</p>
+
+<p>Since I had wandered into this monstrous establishment,
+which may not be as large as Harrod's Stores but
+feels infinitely vaster, I determined to buy something,
+and decided at last upon a French picture-book for an
+English child. Buying it was a simple operation, but
+I then made the mistake of asking that it might be
+sent to England direct. One should never do that in a
+bureaucratic country. The lady led me for what seemed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>
+several miles through various departments until we came
+late in the day to rows and rows of Frenchmen and
+Frenchwomen each in a little glass box. These boxes
+were numbered and ran to hundreds. We stopped at last
+before, say, 157, where my guide left me. The Frenchman
+in the box denied at once that the book could go
+by post. It was too large. It must go by rail. For
+myself, I did not then care how it went or if it went at
+all: I was tired out. But feeling that such an act as to
+abandon the parcel and run would be misconstrued
+and resented in a home of such perfect mechanical order,
+I waited until he had written for a quarter of an hour in
+a fine flowing hand with a pen sharper than a serpent's
+tooth, and then I paid the required number of francs and
+set out on the desperate errand of finding the street
+again. The book was a week on its journey. Go to
+Dufayel's, I say, most certainly, for it is quite amusing;
+but go when you are young and strong.</p>
+
+<p>To me the most interesting thing on Montmartre is
+the grave of Heinrich Heine in the Cimetière du Nord,
+a strange irregular city of dead Parisians all tidily laid
+away in their homes in its many streets, over which a
+busy rumbling thoroughfare has been carried on a viaduct.
+I had Heine's <i>Salon</i> with me when I was last in Paris,
+and I sought his grave again one afternoon with an increased
+sense of intimacy. A medallion portrait of the
+mournful face is cut in the marble, and on the grave
+itself are wistful echoes of the <i>Buch der Lieder</i>. A little
+tin receptacle is fixed to the stone, and I looked at the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>
+cards which in the pretty German way visitors had left
+upon the poet and his wife; for Frau Heine lies too
+here. All were German and all rain-soaked (or was it
+tears?)</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="provende" id="provende"></a>
+<img src="images/i_360.jpg" width="650" height="454" alt="LA PROVENDE DES POULES" />
+<p class="caption">LA PROVENDE DES POULES<br />
+<span class="s2">TROYON</span><br />
+<span class="s2"><i>(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)</i></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold in his poem called Heine's grave
+black: the present one is white.  How do the lines
+run?</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+"<i>Henri Heine</i>"&mdash;&mdash;'tis here!<br />
+That black tombstone, the name<br />
+Carved there&mdash;no more! and the smooth,<br />
+Swarded alleys, the limes<br />
+Touch'd with yellow by hot<br />
+Summer, but under them still,<br />
+In September's bright afternoon,<br />
+Shadow, and verdure, and cool.<br />
+Trim Montmartre! the faint<br />
+Murmur of Paris outside;<br />
+Crisp everlasting-flowers,<br />
+Yellow and black, on the graves.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Half blind, palsied, in pain,<br />
+Hither to come, from the streets'<br />
+Uproar, surely not loath<br />
+Wast thou, Heine!&mdash;to lie<br />
+Quiet, to ask for closed<br />
+Shutters, and darken'd room,<br />
+And cool drinks, and an eased<br />
+Posture, and opium, no more;<br />
+Hither to come, and to sleep<br />
+Under the wings of Renown.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">Ah! not little, when pain<br />
+Is most quelling, and man<br />
+Easily quell'd, and the fine<br />
+Temper of genius so soon<br />
+Thrills at each smart, is the praise,<br />
+Not to have yielded to pain<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>
+No small boast, for a weak<br />
+Son of mankind, to the earth<br />
+Pinn'd by the thunder, to rear<br />
+His bolt-scathed front to the stars;<br />
+And, undaunted, retort<br />
+'Gainst thick-crashing, insane,<br />
+Tyrannous tempests of bale,<br />
+Arrowy lightnings of soul</p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+
+<p class="poem">Ah! as of old, from the pomp<br />
+Of Italian Milan, the fair<br />
+Flower of marble of white<br />
+Southern palaces&mdash;steps<br />
+Border'd by statues, and walks<br />
+Terraced, and orange-bowers<br />
+Heavy with fragrance&mdash;the blond<br />
+German Kaiser full oft<br />
+Long'd himself back to the fields,<br />
+Rivers, and high-roof'd towns<br />
+Of his native Germany; so,<br />
+So, how often! from hot<br />
+Paris drawing-rooms, and lamps<br />
+Blazing, and brilliant crowds,<br />
+Starr'd and jewell'd, of men<br />
+Famous, of women the queens<br />
+Of dazzling converse&mdash;from fumes<br />
+Of praise, hot, heady fumes, to the poor brain<br />
+That mount, that madden&mdash;how oft<br />
+Heine's spirit outworn<br />
+Long'd itself out of the din,<br />
+Back to the tranquil, the cool<br />
+Far German home of his youth</p>
+
+<p class="poem">See! in the May-afternoon,<br />
+O'er the fresh, short turf of the Hartz,<br />
+A youth, with the foot of youth,<br />
+Heine! thou climbest again.</p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="poem">But something prompts me: Not thus<br />
+Take leave of Heine! not thus<br />
+Speak the last word at his grave!<br />
+Not in pity, and not<br />
+With half censure&mdash;with awe<br />
+Hail, as it passes from earth<br />
+Scattering lightnings, that soul!</p>
+
+<p class="poem">The Spirit of the world,<br />
+Beholding the absurdity of men&mdash;<br />
+Their vaunts, their feats&mdash;let a sardonic smile,<br />
+For one short moment wander o'er his lips.<br />
+<i>That smile was Heine!</i>&mdash;for its earthly hour<br />
+The strange guest sparkled; now 'tis passed away.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">That was Heine! and we,<br />
+Myriads who live, who have lived,<br />
+What are we all, but a mood,<br />
+A single mood, of the life<br />
+Of the Spirit in whom we exist,<br />
+Who alone is all things in one?<br />
+Spirit, who fillest us all!<br />
+Spirit, who utterest in each<br />
+New-coming son of mankind<br />
+Such of thy thoughts as thou wilt!<br />
+O thou, one of whose moods,<br />
+Bitter and strange, was the life<br />
+Of Heine&mdash;his strange, alas,<br />
+His bitter life!&mdash;may a life<br />
+Other and milder be mine!<br />
+May'st thou a mood more serene,<br />
+Happier, have utter'd in mine!<br />
+May'st thou the rapture of peace<br />
+Deep have embreathed at its core;<br />
+Made it a ray of thy thought,<br />
+Made it a beat of thy joy!<br /></p>
+
+<p>Heine has many illustrious companions. If you would
+stand by the grave of Berlioz and Ambroise Thomas, of
+Offenbach, who set all Europe humming, of Delibes the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>
+composer of Genée's "Coppélia," of the brothers Goncourt,
+of Renan, who wrote the <i>Life of Christ</i>, or of
+Henri Murger, who discovered Bohemia, of De Neuville,
+painter of battles, of Halévy and Meilhac the playwrights,
+or of Théophile Gautier the poet, you must seek
+the Cimetière du Nord.</p>
+
+<p>Montmartre in the evening centres in the Boulevard de
+Clichy&mdash;a high-spirited thoroughfare. Many foreigners
+visit it only then, and the Boulevard spreads its wares
+accordingly, and very tawdry some of them are. Here,
+for example, is a garish façade labelled "Ciel," in which
+a number of grubby blackguards dressed as saints and
+angels first bring refreshments at a franc a glass, and
+then offer the visitor a "prêche humoristique" followed
+by variations of Pepper's ghost in what are called "scènes
+paradisiaques," the whole performance being cold, tawdry
+and very stupid. Next door is "Enfer," where similar
+delights are offered, save that here the suggestion is not
+of heaven but hell. Instead therefore of grubby blackguards
+as saints we have grubby blackguards as devils.
+On the opposite side of the road is the Cabaret du
+Néant, where you are received with a mass for the dead
+sung by the staff, and sit at tables made of coffins.</p>
+
+<p>It is hardly necessary to say that very few Parisians
+enter these places. The singing cabarets, however, are
+different: they are genuine, and one needs to be not
+only a Parisian but a very well-informed Parisian to
+appreciate them, for the songs are palpitatingly topical
+and political. The Quatz'-Arts, the Lune-Rousse and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>
+the Chat-Noir (once so famous, but now lacking in the
+genius either of Salis, its founder, or of Caran d'Ache,
+Steinlen or Willette, who helped to make it renowned)
+are all in the Boulevard de Clichy. So also is Aristide
+Bruant's cabaret, where an organised shout of welcome
+awaits every visitor, and Aristide&mdash;in costume a cross
+between a poet and a cowboy&mdash;sings his realistic ballads
+of Parisian street life. Here also is the Moulin-Rouge,
+which in the old days of the elephant was in its spurious
+way amusing, but is now rebuilt and redecorated out of
+knowledge, and for all the words you hear might be on
+Broadway.</p>
+
+<p>Here also, at the extreme western end of the Boulevard,
+is the Hippodrome, now a hippodrome only in name and
+given up to the popular cinematoscope. I regret the
+loss of the real Paris Hippodrome. Paris still has her
+permanent circuses, but the Hippodrome is gone. It was
+there that, one night, in 1889, I chanced to sit very near
+the royal box, into which, with much bowing and scraping
+of managers, a white-haired old gentleman with the
+features of a lion and an eagle harmoniously blended
+was ushered. He was only seventy-nine, this old gentleman,
+and he was in the thick of such duties as fall to
+the Leader of the Opposition and promoter of Home
+Rule for Ireland; but he followed every step of the
+performance like a schoolboy, and now and then he sent
+for an official to have something explained to him, such
+as, on one occasion, the workings of the artificial
+snow-storm which overwhelmed Skobeleff's army. That
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>
+ill-fated Russian general was the hero of the spectacle,
+a remarkable one in its way; but to me the restless
+animation and whole-hearted enjoyment of Mr. Gladstone
+was the finer entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>Montmartre has also three dancing halls, two of which
+are genuine and one a show-place. The genuine halls
+are the Moulin-de-la-Galette, high on the hill on the
+steepest part of it above the Moulin-Rouge, and the
+Elysée in the Boulevard de Rochechouart, which are
+open only two or three times a week and which are
+thronged by the shop-assistants and young people of
+the neighbourhood. The spurious hall is the Bal Tabarin,
+which is open every evening and is a spectacle.
+It is, however, by no means unamusing, and I have spent
+many pleasant idle hours there. Willette's famous fresco
+of the apotheosis of the Parisian leg decorates a wall-space
+over the bar with peculiar fitness. At all the
+bals the men who dance retain their hats and often
+their overcoats, and for the most part leave their partners
+with amazing abruptness at the last step. Some of the
+measures are conspicuous for a lack of restraint that
+would decimate an English ballroom; but one must not
+take such displays "at the foot of the letter": they do
+not mean among these Latin romps and frolics what
+they would mean with us, whose emotions are less facile
+and sense of fun less physical.</p>
+
+<p>And so we come to midnight, when Montmartre
+enters its third, and, to a Londoner exasperated by the
+grandmotherly legislation of his own city, its most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>
+entertaining phase. The idea that Paris is a late city
+is an illusion. Paris is not a late city: it is a city with
+a few late streets. Paris as a whole goes to bed as early
+as London, if not earlier, as a walk in the residential
+quarters will prove. Montmartre is late, and the Boulevards
+des Capucines and des Italiens are late, although
+less so; and that is about all. When it is remembered
+that Paris rises and opens its shops some hours earlier
+than London, and that the Parisians value their health,
+it will be recognised that Paris could not be a late city.
+One must remember also that the number of all-night
+cafés is very small, so small that by frequenting them
+with any diligence one may soon come to know by sight
+most of the late fringe of this city, both amateurs and
+professionals. One is indeed quickly struck by their
+numerical weakness.</p>
+
+<p>There is a fashion in night cafés as in hats; change
+is made as suddenly and as inexplicably. One month
+every one is crowding into, let us say, the Chat Vivant,
+and the next the Chat Vivant kindles its lamps and
+tweaks its mandolins in vain: all the world passes its
+doors on the way to the Nid de Nuit. What is the
+reason? No one knows exactly; but we must probably
+once again seek the woman. A new dancer (or shall I say
+attachée?) has appeared, or an old dancer or attachée
+transferred her allegiance. And so for a while the Nid
+has not a free table after one o'clock, and on a special
+night&mdash;such as Mi-Carême, or Réveillon, or New Year's
+Eve&mdash;it is the head-waiter and the door-keeper of the Nid
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>
+into whose hands are pressed the gold coins and bank
+notes to influence them to admit the bloods and their
+parties and find them a table. A year ago the douceur
+(often fruitless) would have gone to the officials of the
+Chat Vivant.</p>
+
+<p>They remain, when all has been said against them,
+simple and well-mannered places, these half-dozen famous
+cafés on which the sun always rises. To think so one
+must perhaps graduate on the Boulevards, but once
+they are accepted they can become an agreeable habit.
+Sleepiness is as unknown there as the writings of Thomas
+à Kempis. Not only the dancers de la maison but the
+visitors too are tireless. There may be ways of getting
+ennui into a Parisian girl, but certainly it is not by
+dancing. Nor does the band tire either, one excellent
+rule at all of them being that there should be no pause
+whatever between the tunes, from the hour of opening
+until day.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="windmill" id="windmill"></a>
+<img src="images/i_370.jpg" width="650" height="457" alt="THE WINDMILL" />
+<p class="caption">THE WINDMILL<br />
+<span class="s2">R. P. BONINGTON</span><br />
+
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>There lies before me as I write an amusing memorial
+of the innocent high spirits that can prevail on such a
+special all-night sitting as Réveillon: one of the tails
+of a dress coat, lined with white satin on which a skilful
+hand has traced with a fountain pen (my own) two very
+intimate scenes of French life. These drawings were
+made between five and six in the morning in the intervals
+of the dance, the artist, lacking paper, having without
+a word taken a table knife and shorn off his coat-tails for
+the purpose. His coat, I may say, was already being
+worn inside out, with one of the leather buckles of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span>
+braces as a button-hole. A tall burly man, with a long
+red Boulevard beard, he had thrown out signs of friendliness
+to me at once, and we became as brothers. He
+drew my portrait on the table-cloth; I affected to draw
+his. He showed me where I was wrong and drew it
+right. He then left me, in order to walk for a while on
+an imaginary tight-rope across the floor, and having
+safely made the journey and turned again, with infinite
+skill in his recoveries from falling and the most dexterous
+managing of a balancing-pole that did not exist, he
+leaped lightly to earth again, kissed his hand to the
+company, and again sat by me and resumed his work;
+finally, after other diversions, completing the chef d'&oelig;uvre
+that is now lying on my desk and lending abandon to
+what is otherwise a stronghold of British decorum. We
+parted at seven. I have never seen him since, but I find
+his name often in the French comic papers illustrating
+yet other phases of their favourite pleasantry for the
+entertainment of this simple and tireless people.</p>
+
+<p>Another incident I recall that is equally characteristic
+of Montmartre. "Ça ne fait rien," said a head-waiter
+when we had expressed regret on hearing of the death
+of the maître d'hotel, for whom (an old acquaintance)
+we had been asking. "Ça ne fait rien: it is necessary
+to order supper just the same." True. True indeed
+everywhere, but particularly true on Montmartre.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xviii" id="chapter_xviii"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+THE ELYSÉE TO THE HÔTEL DE VILLE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+The Most Interesting Streets&mdash;Pet Aversions&mdash;The Rue de la Paix&mdash;The
+Vendôme Column&mdash;A Populous Church&mdash;The Whiff of
+Grapeshot&mdash;Alfred de Musset&mdash;The Molière Quarter&mdash;A Green
+and White Oasis&mdash;Camille Desmoulins at the Café de Foy&mdash;Charles
+Lamb in Paris&mdash;The Cloître de St. Honoré&mdash;The Massacre
+of St. Bartholomew&mdash;St. Germain of Auxerre&mdash;A Satisfied
+Corpse&mdash;Catherine de Médicis' Observatory&mdash;St. Eustache&mdash;A
+Wonderful Organ-The Halles&mdash;French Economy and English
+Want of It&mdash;The Goat-herd&mdash;The Assassination of Henri IV.&mdash;The
+Tour St. Jacques-Pascal, Theologian and Inventor of
+Omnibuses&mdash;A Sinister Spot&mdash;The Paris Town-hall&mdash;A Riot of
+Frescoes&mdash;Etienne Marcel&mdash;The Hôtel de Ville and Politesse&mdash;An
+Ancient Palace&mdash;Old Streets&mdash;Madame de Beauvais' Mansion&mdash;A
+Quiet Courtyard&mdash;The Church of St. Paul and St. Louis&mdash;Rabelais'
+Grave.</p>
+
+<p>The Elysée, the official home of the French president&mdash;Paris's
+White House and Buckingham
+Palace&mdash;is situated in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré,
+which is one of the most entertaining streets
+in the whole city in which to loiter; that is, if you like,
+as I do, the windows of curiosity dealers and jewellers
+and print shops. Not that bargains are to be obtained
+here: far from it: it is not like the Rue des Saints Pères
+or the Rue Mazarine across the river; but merely as a
+series of windows it is fascinating. I like it as much as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span>
+I dislike the Rue Lafayette, which has always been my
+aversion, not only because it is interminable and commercial
+and noisy, but because it leads back to England
+and work; yet since, however, when one arrives in Paris
+it leads from England and work, I must be a little
+lenient, and there is also a café in it where the diamond
+merchants compare gems quite openly.</p>
+
+<p>Remembering these extenuating circumstances I unhesitatingly
+award the palm for undesirability in a Paris
+street to the Rue du Quatre-Septembre and the Rue
+Réaumur, which are sheer Shaftesbury Avenue, and, as
+in Shaftesbury Avenue, cause one to regret the older
+streets and houses whose place they have usurped. The
+Rue de Rivoli I dislike too: that strange mixture of very
+good hotels (the Meurice, for instance, is here) and
+rubbishy shops full of tawdry jewellery to catch the
+excursionist. How it happened that such a site should
+have been allowed to fall into such hands is a mystery.
+An additional objection to the Rue de Rivoli is that
+the one English acquaintance whom one least wishes to
+meet is always there.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré becomes the
+Rue Saint-Honoré at the Rue Royale. The Rue Saint-Honoré
+is also a good street for shop windows, but not
+the equal of its more aristocratic half; just as that is
+surpassed here by the Rue de la Paix, to which we now
+come on the left, and which contains more things that
+I can do without, made to perfection, than any street
+I ever saw. At its foot is the Place Vendôme, with the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>
+beautiful column in the midst on which Napoleon's
+campaign of 1805 is illustrated in a bronze spiral that
+constitutes at once, I suppose, the most durable and
+the longest picture in the world. The bronze came very
+properly from the melted Russian and Austrian cannons.
+Napoleon stands at the top, imperially splendid; but
+as we saw in the chapter on the "Ile de la Cité," it was
+not always so: for his first statue was removed by Louis
+XVIII. to be used for the new Henri IV. In its stead
+a fleur-de-lys surmounted the column. Then came
+Louis-Philippe, who erected a new statue of the Emperor,
+not, however, imperially clad; and then Napoleon
+III., who substituted the present figure. But in 1870
+the Communards succeeded in bringing the column down,
+and it has only been vertical again since 1875. Thus
+it is to be a Paris monument!</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the Rue Saint-Honoré, in which, by the
+way, are several old and interesting houses, such as
+No. 271, the Cabaret du Saint-Esprit, a great resort in
+the Reign of Terror of spectators wishing to see the
+tumbrils pass, and No. 398, where Robespierre lodged,
+we come to St. Roch's church, on the left, interesting
+both in itself and in history. It has been called the
+noisiest church in Paris, and certainly it is difficult to
+find a time when feet are silent there. The attraction is
+St. Roch's wealth of shrines, of a rather theatrical character,
+such as the wise poor love: an entombment, a
+calvary and a nativity, all very effective if not beautiful.
+Beauty does not matter, for on Good Friday the entombment
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>
+holds thousands silent before it. The church,
+which is in the baroque style that it is so easy to
+dislike, is too florid throughout. Among the many
+monuments are memorials of Corneille and Diderot,
+both of whom are buried here. The music of St. Roch
+is, I am told, second only to that of the Madeleine.</p>
+
+<p>So much for St. Roch within. Historically it
+chances to be of immense importance, for it was here,
+and in the streets around and about the church, that
+the whiff of grapeshot blew which dispersed the French
+Revolution into the air. That was on October 5th, 1795,
+and it was not only the death of the Revolution but it
+was the birth of the conquering Buonaparte. Carlyle
+is superb: "Some call for Barras to be made Commandant;
+he conquered in Thermidor. Some, what is more
+to the purpose, bethink them of the Citizen Buonaparte,
+unemployed Artillery-Officer, who took Toulon. A
+man of head, a man of action: Barras is named Commandant's-Cloak;
+this young Artillery-Officer is named
+Commandant. He was in the Gallery at the moment,
+and heard it; he withdrew, some half-hour, to consider
+with himself: after a half-hour of grim compressed considering,
+to be or not to be, he answers <i>Yea</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, a man of head being at the centre of it,
+the whole matter gets vital. Swift, to Camp of Sablons;
+to secure the Artillery, there are not twenty men
+guarding it! A swift Adjutant, Murat is the name of
+him, gallops; gets thither some minutes within time,
+for Lepelletier was also on march that way: the Cannon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>
+are ours. And now beset this post, and beset that;
+rapid and firm: at Wicket of the Louvre, in Cul-de-sac
+Dauphin, in Rue Saint-Honoré, from Pont-Neuf all
+along the north Quays, southward to Pont <i>ci-devant</i>
+Royal,&mdash;rank round the Sanctuary of the Tuileries, a
+ring of steel discipline; let every gunner have his match
+burning, and all men stand to their arms!</p>
+
+<p>"Lepelletier has seized the Church of Saint-Roch; has
+seized the Pont-Neuf, our piquet there retreating without
+fire. Stray shots fall from Lepelletier; rattle down
+on the very Tuileries Staircase. On the other hand,
+women advance dishevelled, shrieking, Peace; Lepelletier
+behind them waving his hat in sign that we shall
+fraternise. Steady! The Artillery-Officer is steady as
+bronze; can, if need were, be quick as lightning. He
+sends eight-hundred muskets with ball-cartridges to the
+Convention itself; honourable Members shall act with
+these in case of extremity: whereat they look grave
+enough. Four of the afternoon is struck. Lepelletier,
+making nothing by messengers, by fraternity or hat-waving,
+bursts out, along the Southern Quai Voltaire,
+along streets and passages, treble-quick, in huge veritable
+onslaught! Whereupon, thou bronze Artillery-Officer&mdash;?
+'Fire!' say the bronze lips. And roar and
+thunder, roar and again roar, continual, volcano-like,
+goes his great gun, in the Cul-de-sac Dauphin against
+the Church of Saint-Roch; go his great guns on the
+Pont-Royal; go all his great guns;&mdash;blow to air some
+two-hundred men, mainly about the Church of Saint-Roch!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>
+Lepelletier cannot stand such horse-play; no
+Sectioner can stand it; the Forty-thousand yield on all
+sides, scour towards covert. 'Some hundred or so of
+them gathered about the Théâtre de la République;
+but,' says he, 'a few shells dislodged them. It was all
+finished at six.'</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="sacre" id="sacre"></a>
+<img src="images/i_378.jpg" width="650" height="450" alt="THE SACRÉ-C&OElig;UR" />
+<p class="caption">THE SACRÉ-C&OElig;UR DE MONTMARTRE, FROM THE BUTTES-CHAUMONT</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"The Ship is <i>over</i> the bar, then; free she bounds
+shoreward,&mdash;amid shouting and vivats! Citoyen Buonaparte
+is 'named General of the Interior, by acclamation';
+quelled Sections have to disarm in such humour as they
+may; sacred right of Insurrection is gone forever!
+The Sieyes Constitution can disembark itself, and begin
+marching. The miraculous Convention Ship has got
+to land;&mdash;and is there, shall we figuratively say, changed,
+as Epic Ships are wont, into a kind of <i>Sea Nymph</i>,
+never to sail more; to roam the waste Azure, a Miracle
+in History!</p>
+
+<p>"'It is false,' says Napoleon, 'that we fired first with
+blank charge; it had been a waste of life to do that.'
+Most false: the firing was with sharp and sharpest
+shot: to all men it was plain that here was no sport;
+the rabbets and plinths of Saint-Roch Church show
+splintered by it to this hour.&mdash;Singular: in old Broglie's
+time, six years ago, this Whiff of Grapeshot was promised;
+but it could not be given then; could not have
+profited then. Now, however, the time is come for it,
+and the man; and behold, you have it; and the thing
+we specifically call <i>French Revolution</i> is blown into
+space by it, and become a thing that was!&mdash;"
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Crossing the Place du Théâtre-Français we come to
+that historic home of the best French drama, where
+Molière is still played frequently, and one has some respite
+from the theme of facile promiscuity which dominates
+most of the other theatres of Paris. A new statue
+of Alfred de Musset has lately been set up under the
+Comédie Française. I copy from a writer very unlike
+him a passage of criticism to remember as one stands
+by this monument: "Give a look, if you can, at a
+Memoir of Alfred de Musset written by his Brother.
+Making allowance for French morals, and Absinthe
+(which latter is not mentioned in the Book), Alfred
+appears to me a fine Fellow, very un-French in some
+respects. He did not at all relish the new Romantic
+School, beginning with V. Hugo, and now alive in &mdash;&mdash; and
+Co.&mdash;(what I call the Gargoyle School of Art,
+whether in Poetry, Painting, or Music)&mdash;he detested
+the modern 'feuilleton' Novel, and read Clarissa!...
+Many years before A. de M. died he had a bad, long,
+illness, and was attended by a Sister of Charity. When
+she left she gave him a Pen with 'Pensez à vos promesses'
+worked about in coloured silks: as also a little
+worsted 'Amphore' she had knitted at his bedside.
+When he came to die, some seventeen years after, he
+had these two little things put with him in his Coffin."
+That, by Edward FitzGerald, no natural friend to the
+de Mussets of the world, is very pretty.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue de Richelieu runs up beside the Comédie
+Française. We have already been in this street to see
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span>
+the Bibliothèque Nationale, entering it from the Boulevard,
+but let us now walk up it, first to see the Molière
+monument, so appropriate just here, and also to glance
+at No. 50, a house still unchanged, where once lived an insignificant
+couple named Poisson, whose daughter Jeanne
+Antoinette Poisson lived to become famous as Madame
+La Pompadour. In souvenirs of Molière Paris is still
+rich. We are coming soon to No. 92 Rue Saint-Honoré,
+where he was born; we are coming to the church of St.
+Eustache, where he was christened on January 15th, 1622,
+and where his second son was christened too. We are
+coming also to the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois,
+where he was married and where his first son was baptised.
+In St. Roch he once stood as a godfather; and close to
+us now, at the corner of the Rue Saint-Honoré and the
+Rue Valois, was one of his theatres. And he died close
+to his monument, at No. 40 Rue de Richelieu. This
+then is the Molière quarter.</p>
+
+<p>We now enter the Palais Royal, that strange white
+and green oasis into which it is so simple never to stray.
+When I first knew Paris the Palais Royal was filled with
+cheap restaurants and shops to allure the excursionist
+and the connoisseur of those books which an inspired
+catalogue once described as very curious and disgusting.
+It is now practically deserted; the restaurants have
+gone and few shops remain; but in the summer the
+band plays to happy crowds, and children frolic here all
+day. I have, however, never succeeded in shaking off
+a feeling of depression.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The original palace was built by Richelieu and was
+then the Palais Cardinal. After his death it became
+the Palais Royal and was enlarged, and was the scene
+of notorious orgies. Camille Desmoulins made it more
+serious, for it was here that he enflamed the people by
+his words on July 12th, 1789, and started them on their
+destroying career. That was in the Café de Foy. Carlyle
+thus describes the scene: "But see Camille Desmoulins,
+from the Café de Foy, rushing out, sibylline in face; his
+hair streaming, in each hand a pistol! He springs to a
+table: the Police satellites are eyeing him; alive they
+shall not take him, not they alive him alive. This time
+he speaks without stammering:&mdash;Friends! shall we die
+like hunted hares? Like sheep hounded into their pinfold;
+bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but only a
+whetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of
+Frenchman and Man; when Oppressors are to try conclusions
+with Oppressed; and the word is, swift Death,
+or Deliverance forever. Let such hour be <i>well</i>-come! Us,
+meseems, one cry only befits: To Arms! Let universal
+Paris, universal France, as with the throat of the whirlwind,
+sound only: To arms&mdash;To arms! yell responsive
+the innumerable voices; like one great voice, as of a
+Demon yelling from the air: for all faces wax fire-eyed, all
+hearts burn up into madness. In such, or fitter words,
+does Camille evoke the Elemental Powers, in this great
+moment.&mdash;Friends, continues Camille, some rallying
+sign! Cockades; green ones;&mdash;the colour of Hope!&mdash;As
+with the flight of locusts, these green tree-leaves; green
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>
+ribands from the neighbouring shops; all green things
+are snatched, and made cockades of. Camille descends
+from his table, 'stifled with embraces, wetted with tears';
+has a bit of green riband handed him; sticks it in his
+hat. And now to Curtius' Image-shop there; to the
+Boulevards; to the four winds; and rest not till France
+be on fire!"</p>
+
+<p>Desmoulins in bronze now stands in the garden, near
+this spot. It is an interesting statue by Boverie, who
+showed great courage in his use of a common chair,
+dignified here into a worthy adjunct of liberation.</p>
+
+<p>Under Napoleon the Tribunate sat in the Palais Royal,
+and after Napoleon the Orleans family made it their
+home. The Communards, always thorough, burned a
+good deal of it in 1871, and it is now a desert and the
+seat of the Conseil d'Etat. Let us leave it by the gateway
+leading to the Rue de Valois and be happier again.</p>
+
+<p>The Rue de Valois is an interesting and picturesque
+street, but its greatest attraction to me is its association
+with Charles Lamb. His hotel&mdash;the Europe, just opposite
+the gateway&mdash;has recently been rebuilt and is now
+called the Grand Hôtel du Palais Royal et de l'Europe,
+and the polished staircase on which his infinitesimal legs
+slipped about so comically on his late and not too steady
+returnings (and how could he be steady when Providence
+ordained that the waiter of whom in his best stammering
+French he ordered an egg, on his first visit to a restaurant,
+should have so misunderstood the order as to bring
+in its place a glass of eau de vie&mdash;an error, we are told,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span>
+which gave Lamb much pleasure?) the polished staircase
+has now gone; but the hotel stands exactly where it
+did, and every thing else is the same&mdash;the B&oelig;uf à la Mode
+is still close by and still one of the best restaurants in
+Paris, and the Place de Valois is untouched, with its
+most attractive archway leading to the Rue des Bons-Enfants
+and giving on to the vista of the Rue Montesquieu,
+with its hundred signs hanging out exactly as in
+1823.</p>
+
+<p>We now return to the Rue Saint-Honoré. The three
+old houses, 180, 182 and 184, opposite the Magasins
+du Louvre, belonged before the Revolution to the Canons
+of Saint-Honoré. The courtyard here&mdash;the Cloître du
+Saint-Honoré&mdash;is one of the most characteristic examples
+of dirty Paris that remain, but very picturesque too. To
+peep in here is almost certainly to be rewarded by
+some Hogarthian touch, and to walk up the Rue des
+Bons-Enfants yields similar experiences and some very
+pleasant glimpses of old Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Still going east we turn down past the Oratoire on
+the right, with Coligny's monument on its south side,
+into the Rue de Rivoli, and across the Rue du Louvre
+obliquely to the old church we see there, opposite the
+east end of the Louvre and Napoleon's iron gates.
+This church is that of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, not to
+be confounded with the St. Germain of St. Germain des
+Prés across the river. St. Germain l'Auxerrois is historically
+one of the most interesting of the Paris churches,
+for it was St. Germain's bell that gave the signal for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>
+the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572. Charles IX.
+is said to have fired at the Huguenots (doubtless with
+Catherine de Médicis at his shoulder, anxious for the
+success of his aim) from one of the windows in the
+Louvre overlooking this space.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="amateur" id="amateur"></a>
+<img src="images/i_386.jpg" width="500" height="650" alt="L&#39;AMATEUR D&#39;ESTAMPES" />
+<p class="caption">L&#39;AMATEUR D&#39;ESTAMPES<br />
+<span class="s2">DAUMIER</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Palais des Beaux Arts</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>St. Germain of Auxerre began as a layman&mdash;the ruler
+of Burgundy. Divine revelation, however, indicated
+that the Church was his true calling, and he therefore
+succeeded Saint Amadour as Bishop, "gave," in Caxton's
+words, "all his riches to poor people, and changed his
+wife into his sister". He took to the new life very
+thoroughly. He fasted every day till evening and then
+ate coarse bread and drank water and used no pottage
+and no salt. "In winter ne summer he had but one
+clothing, and that was the hair next his body, a coat
+and a gown, and if it happed so that he gave not his
+vesture to some poor body, he would wear it till it were
+broken and torn. His bed was environed with ashes,
+hair, and sackcloth, and his head lay no higher than his
+shoulders, but all day wept, and bare about his neck
+divers relics of saints. He ware none other clothing,
+and he went oft barefoot and seldom ware any girdle.
+The life that he led was above man's power. His life
+was so straight and hard that it was marvel and pity
+to see his flesh, and was like a thing not credible, and
+he did so many miracles that, if his merits had not gone
+before, they should have been trowed phantasms."</p>
+
+<p>St. Germain's miracles were more interesting than
+those of, say, his convert Sainte Geneviève. He conjured
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>
+devils; he forbade fire to burn him; having fed his
+companions on the only calf of a friendly cow-herd, he
+put the bones and the skins together and life returned
+to it; he also raised one of his own disciples from the
+dead and conversed with him through the walls of his
+tomb, but on the disciple saying that in his late condition
+"he was well and all things were to him soft and
+sweet," he permitted him to remain dead. He also
+found his miraculous gifts very useful in the war; but
+his principal interest to us is that he is supposed to
+have visited England and organised the Establishment
+here. St. Germain's church has a little old glass that
+is charming and much bad new. The south transept
+window, although sheer kaleidoscope, is gay and attractive.</p>
+
+<p>At the back of the church runs the narrow and medieval
+Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, extending to the Rue Saint-Honoré.
+At No. 4 is, or was, the Hôtel des Mousquetaires,
+where, when it was the Belle Etoile, d'Artagnan
+drank and swaggered. Let us take this street and come
+to St. Eustache by way of another and less terrible
+souvenir of Catherine de Médicis. The Rue de l'Arbre-Sec
+leads to the Rue Sauval and to the circular Rue de
+Viarmes surrounding the Bourse de Commerce. Here
+we see a remarkable Doric column, all that remains of
+the palace which Catherine built in order to avoid the
+fate predicted for her by a soothsayer&mdash;that she would
+perish in the ruins of a house near St. Germain's. The
+Tuileries, which she was then building, being far too near
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>
+St. Germain's to be comfortable after such a remark, she
+erected the Hôtel de la Reine, the tower being designed
+for astrological study in the company of her Italian
+familiar, Ruggieri. All else has gone: the tower and
+the stars remain.</p>
+
+<p>A few steps down the Rue Oblin and we are at St.
+Eustache, which has to my eyes the most fascinating
+roof of any church in Paris and a very attractive
+nave. The interior, however, is marred by the presence
+of what might be called a church within a church, destroying
+all vistas, and it is only with great difficulty
+that one can see the exquisite rose window over the
+organ. It is a church much used by the poor&mdash;who
+even call it Notre Dame des Halles&mdash;but its music on
+festival days brings the rich too. Like most other
+Paris churches of any importance, St. Eustache had its
+secular period. The Feast of Reason was held here in
+1793; in 1795 it was the Temple of Agriculture. In
+1791 Mirabeau, the first of the illustrious, as we saw, to
+be buried in the Panthéon, was carried here in his coffin
+for a funeral service, at which guns were fired that
+brought down some of the plaster. Voiture the poet
+was buried here. The church has always been famous for
+the splendour of its festivals and for its music, its present
+organ, once much injured by Communard bombs, being
+one of the finest in the world. No reader of this book
+who cares for solemn music should fail to ascertain
+the St. Eustache festivals. On St. Cecilia's day entrance
+is very difficult, but an effort should be made.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Eustache, or Eustace, the Saint, had no direct association
+with Paris, as had our friends St Germain and St.
+Geneviève and St. Denis and St. Martin and St. Merry;
+but he had an indirect one, having been a Roman
+soldier under the Emperor Trajan, whose column was
+the model for the Vendôme column. In the Sacristy,
+however, are preserved some of the bones not only of
+himself but of his wife and family, brought hither from
+St. Denis. One of his teeth is here too, and one special
+bone, the gift of Pope Alexander VII. to an influential
+Catholic.</p>
+
+<p>Why our London markets should be so dull and unattractive
+and the Halles so entertaining is a problem
+which would perhaps require an ethnological essay of
+many pages to elucidate. But so it is. Smithfield,
+Billingsgate, Leadenhall, Covent Garden&mdash;one has little
+temptation or encouragement to loiter in any of them;
+but the Halles spread welcoming arms. I have spent
+hours there, and would spend more. In the very early
+morning it is not too agreeable a neighbourhood for
+the idle spectator, nor is he desired, although if he is
+prepared to endure a little rough usage with tongue
+and elbow he will be vastly amused by what he sees;
+but later, when all the world is up, the Halles entreat
+his company. Their phases are three: the first is the
+arrival of the market carts with their merchandise, very
+much as in our own Covent Garden, but multiplied
+many times and infinitely more vocal and shattering to
+the nerves.  (I once occupied a bedroom within range
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>
+of this pandemonium.) The second phase, a few hours
+later, sees the descent upon the market of the large
+caterers&mdash;buyers for the restaurants, great and small,
+the hotels and pensions. That is between half-past five
+and half-past seven. And then come the small buyers,
+the neat servants, the stout housewives, all with their
+baskets or string bags. This is our time; we may now
+loiter at our ease secure from the swift and scorching
+sarcasms of the crowded dawn.</p>
+
+<p>The Halles furnish another proof of the quiet
+efficiency of Frenchwomen. At every fruit and vegetable
+stall&mdash;and to me they are the most interesting of
+all&mdash;sits one or more of these watchful creatures, cheerful,
+capable and always busy either with the affairs of
+the stall or with knitting or sewing. The Halles afford
+also very practical proof of the place that economy is
+permitted to hold in the French cuisine: as much being
+done for the small purse as for the large one.</p>
+
+<p>In England we are ashamed of economy; by avoiding
+it we hope to give the impression that we are not mean.
+The wise French either care less for their neighbour's
+opinions or have agreed together to dispense with such
+insincerities; and the result is that if a pennyworth of
+carrots is all that your soup requires you need not buy two
+pennyworth, and so forth. Little portions of vegetables
+for one, two or more persons, all ready for the pot,
+can be bought, involving no waste whatever, and with
+no faltering or excuse on the part of the purchaser to
+explain so small an order. In France a customer is a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>
+customer. There are no distinctions; although I do
+not deny that in the West End of Paris, where the
+Americans and English spend their money, subtle shades
+of courtesy (or want of it) have crept in. I have been
+treated like a prince in a small comestible shop where
+I wanted only a pennyworth of butter, a pennyworth of
+cheese and a pennyworth of milk. It is pennies that
+make the French rich; no one can be in any doubt of
+that who has taken notice of the thousands of small
+shops not only in Paris but in the provinces.</p>
+
+<p>Any one making an early morning visit to the Halles
+should complete it by seeing my goat-herd, who leads
+his flocks thereabouts and eastward. He is the prettiest
+sight I ever saw in Paris. There are several goat-herds&mdash;even
+Passy knows them&mdash;but my goat-herd is here.
+By eight o'clock he has done; his flock is dry. He
+wears a blue cloth tam-o'-shanter (if there can be such
+a thing: it is really the cap of the romantic mountaineer
+of comic opera) and he saunters carelessly along, piping
+melancholy notes on a shepherd's pipe&mdash;not unlike the
+lovely wailing that desolates the soul in the last act of
+<i>Tristan und Isolde</i>. When a customer arrives he calls
+one of his goats, sits down on the nearest doorstep&mdash;it
+may be a seventeenth-century palace&mdash;and milks a cupful;
+and then he is off again, with his scrannel to his
+lips, the very type of the urban Strephon.</p>
+
+<p>We may leave les Halles (pronounced lay al, and not,
+as one would think, lays all: one of the pitfalls for the
+English in Paris) by the Rue Berger, and enter the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>
+Square des Innocents to look at its decorative fountain.
+The next street below the Rue des Innocents is the
+Rue de la Ferronnerie, where, on May 14th, 1610,
+Henri IV. was assassinated by Ravaillac before the door
+of No. 3. And so by the Rue St. Denis, which one is
+always glad to enter again, and the Rue de Rivoli, we
+come to Saint-Jacques, that grey aged isolated tower
+which we have seen so often from the heights and in
+the distance. It is a beautiful Gothic building, at the
+summit of which is the figure of St. James with his
+emblems, the originals of which are at the Cluny. The
+tower belonged to the church of St. Jacques-la-Boucherie,
+but that being in the way when Napoleon
+planned the Rue de Rivoli, it had to go.</p>
+
+<p>The tower has not lately been open to the climbers,
+and I have never seen Paris from St. James's side, but
+I hope to. Blaise Pascal experimented here in the
+density of air; hence the presence of his statue below.
+It was also to Pascal, of whom we now think only as an
+ironist and wistful theologian, that Paris owes her
+omnibuses, for it was he that devised the first, which
+began to run on March 18th, 1662, from the Luxembourg
+to the Bastille. Pascal owed his conversion to
+his escape from a carriage accident on the Pont Neuf.
+His grave we saw at St. Etienne-du-Mont.</p>
+
+<p>In crossing the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville one must not
+forget that this was once the terrible Place de Grève,
+the site of public executions for five centuries. Here
+we meet Catherine de Médicis again, for it was by her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>
+order that after the Massacre of St. Bartholomew the
+Huguenots Briquemont and Cavagnes were hanged here,
+and here also was executed Captain Montgomery, whom
+we are to meet in the next chapter. The foster-sister
+of Marie de Médicis was burned alive in the Place de
+Grève as a sorcerer; and Ravaillac, after assassinating
+Henri IV., here met his end. Among later victims was
+the famous Cartouche, of whom Thackeray wrote so
+entertainingly.</p>
+
+<p>The Hôtel de Ville is not a building that I for one
+should choose to revisit, nor do I indeed advise others
+to bother about it at all; but externally at any rate it is
+fine, with its golden sentinels on high. Its chief merit
+is bulk; but there is a certain interest in observing a
+Republican palace of our own time, if only to see how
+near it can come to the real thing. A saturnine guide
+displays a series of spacious apartments, the principal
+attraction of which is their mural painting. All the best
+French Royal Academicians (so to speak) of twenty
+years ago had a finger in this pie, and their fantasies
+sprawl over ceilings and walls. With the exception of
+one room, the history of Paris is practically ignored,
+allegory being the master vogue. Poetry, Song, Inspiration,
+Fame, Ambition, Despair&mdash;all these undraped
+ladies may be seen, and many others. Also Electricity
+and Steam, Science and Art, distinguishable from their
+sisters only by the happy chance that although they
+forgot their clothes they did not forget their symbols.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="baiser" id="baiser"></a>
+<img src="images/i_396.jpg" width="491" height="650" alt="LE BAISER" />
+<p class="caption">LE BAISER<br />
+<span class="s2">RODIN</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Luxembourg</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>One beautiful thing only did I see, and that was a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>
+large design, perhaps the largest there, of Winter, by
+Puvis de Chavannes. But to say that I saw it is an
+exaggeration: rather, I was conscious of it. For the
+architect of the salon in which Puvis was permitted to
+work forgot to light it.</p>
+
+<p>In the historical room there are crowded scenes by
+Laurens of the past of Paris&mdash;the hero of which is
+Etienne Marcel, whose equestrian statue may be seen
+from the windows, under the river façade of the building.
+Etienne Marcel, Merchant Provost, controlled Paris
+after the disastrous battle of Poictiers, where the King
+and the Dauphin were both taken prisoners. Power,
+however, made him headstrong, and he was killed by an
+assassin.</p>
+
+<p>It is from the Hôtel de Ville that the city of Paris is
+administered, with the assistance of the Préfecture de
+Police on the island opposite. The Hôtel de Ville contains,
+so to speak, the Paris County Council, and I have
+been told that no building is so absurdly over-staffed.
+That may or may not be true. The high officials do
+not at any rate allow business to exclude the finer graces
+of life, for in the great hall in which I waited for the
+cicerone were long tables on which were some twenty or
+thirty baskets containing visiting cards, and open books
+containing signatures, and before each basket was a card
+bearing the name of an important functionary of the
+Hôtel de Ville&mdash;such as the Préfet de la Seine, and the
+Sous-Préfet, and their principal secretaries, and so forth.
+Every minute or so some one came in, found the basket
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>
+to which he wished to contribute, and dropped a card
+in it. I wondered to what extent the social machinery
+of Paris bureaucracy would be disorganised if I were to
+change a few baskets, but I did not embark upon an
+experiment the results of which I should have had no
+means of contemplating and enjoying.</p>
+
+<p>After leaving the Hôtel de Ville and its modern
+splendours, we may walk eastward along the Rue de
+l'Hôtel de Ville, one of the narrowest and dirtiest relics
+of old Paris, and so come to the Hôtel de Sens. But
+first notice, at the corner of the Rue des Nonnains-d'Hyères,
+at the point at which Mr. Dexter made his
+drawing, the very ancient stone sign of the knife-grinder.
+The Hôtel de Sens, in the Place de l'Ave Maria, at the
+end of the Rue de l'Hôtel de Ville, is almost if not quite
+the most attractive of the old palaces. Although it has
+been allowed to fall into neglect, it is still a wonderfully
+preserved specimen of fifteenth-century building. The
+turrets are absolutely beautiful. The Archbishop of
+Sens built it, and for nearly three centuries it remained
+the home of power and wealth, among its tenants being
+Marguerite of Valois. Then came the Revolution and
+its decline into a coach office, from which it is said the
+Lyons mail, made familiar to us by the Irvings, started.
+During a later revolution, 1830, a cannon ball found a
+billet in the wall, and it may still be seen there, I am
+told, although these eyes missed it. The Hôtel is now
+a glass factory. The city of Paris ought to acquire it
+before it sinks any lower.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It is at the foot of the Rue de l'Ave Maria, hard by,
+that Molière's theatre, which we saw from the Quai des
+Célestins in an earlier chapter, is found. Here Molière
+was arrested at the instance of the unpaid tallow
+chandler. Our way now is by the Rue Figuier, of which
+the Hôtel de Sens is No. 1, to the Rue François-Miron,
+all among the most fascinating old architecture and
+association. At No. 8 Rue Figuier, for instance, Rabelais
+is said to have lived, and what could be better
+than that? At No. 17, we have what the Vicomte de
+Villebresme calls a "jolie niche du XV<sup>e</sup> siècle". This
+street leads into the Rue de Jouy, also exceedingly old,
+with notable buildings, such as No. 7, the work of
+Mansard père, and No. 9, and on the left of the Impasse
+Guépine, which existed in the reign of Saint Louis.</p>
+
+<p>In the Rue François-Miron, if you do not mind exhibiting
+a little inquisitiveness, enter the doorway of
+No. 68, and look at the courtyard and the staircase.
+Here you get an excellent idea of past glories, while the
+outer doors or gates give an excellent idea of past danger
+too. For life in Paris in the days in which this street
+was built must have been very cheap after dark. It is
+not dear even now in certain parts. This was an historic
+mansion. It was built for Madame de Beaumaris,
+femme de chambre of Anne of Austria, and on its balcony,
+now removed, on August 20th, 1660, Anne stood with
+Mazarin and others when Louis XIV. entered Paris.
+No. 82 still retains a balcony of great charm.</p>
+
+<p>We now enter the very busy Rue St. Antoine at its
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span>
+junction with the Rue de Rivoli. Almost immediately
+on our right is a gateway leading into a very charming
+courtyard, which is not open to the public, but into
+which one may gently trespass; it is the school of the
+Frères Chrétiens, founded by Frère Joseph, the good
+priest with the sweet and sad old face whose bust is on
+the wall. A few steps farther bring us to the church
+of St. Paul and St. Louis, a florid and imposing fane,
+to which Victor Hugo (to whose house we are now
+making our way) carried his first child to be christened,
+and presented to the church two holy water stoops in
+commemoration. Here also Richelieu celebrated his
+first mass. One of Delacroix's best early works (we saw
+the picture called "Hommage à Delacroix," you will
+remember, in the Moreau collection at the Louvre) is
+in the left transept, "Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane".
+On no account miss the Passage Charlemagne
+(close to the St. Paul Station on the Métro) for it is
+a curious, busy and very French by-way, and it possesses
+the remains of a palace of the fourteenth century. In
+the Passage de St. Pierre is the site of the old cemetery
+of St. Paul's in which Rabelais was buried.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xix" id="chapter_xix"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br />
+THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A Beautiful Square&mdash;The Palais des Tournelles&mdash;Revolutionary
+Changes&mdash;Madame de Sévigné and Rachel&mdash;Hugo's Crowded
+Life&mdash;A Riot of Relics&mdash;Victorious Versatility&mdash;Dumas' Pen&mdash;The
+Age of Giants&mdash;Dickens&mdash;"Les Trois Dumas".</p>
+
+<p>Were we to walk a little farther along the busy
+Rue St. Antoine towards the Place de la
+Bastille, we should come, on the left, a few yards past
+the church of St. Louis, to the Rue de Birague, at the
+head of which is the beautiful red gateway of which Mr.
+Dexter has made such a charming picture. This is the
+southern gateway of the Place des Vosges, a spacious
+green square enclosed by massive red and white houses
+of brick and stone which once were the abode, when the
+Place des Vosges was the Place Royale, of the aristocracy
+of France.</p>
+
+<p>Before that time the courtyard of the old Palais des
+Tournelles was here, where Henri II. was killed in a
+tournament in 1559, through an accident for which
+Captain Montgomery of the Scotch Guard, whose fault
+Catherine de Médicis deemed it to be, was executed, as
+we have just seen, in the Place de l'Hôtel-de-Ville.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span>
+Catherine de Médicis, not content with thus avenging
+her husband's death, demolished the Palais des Tournelles,
+and a few years later Henri IV., to whom old
+Paris owes so much, built the Place Royale, just as it is
+now. His own pavilion was the centre building on the
+south side, comprising the gateway which Mr. Dexter
+has drawn; the Queen's was the corresponding building
+on the north side.</p>
+
+<p>Around dwelt the nobles of the Court&mdash;such at any
+rate as were not living in the adjoining Marais. Richelieu's
+hotel embraced Nos. 21-23 as they now are. It
+was in front of that mansion that the famous duel
+between Montmorency-Bouteville and Des Chapelles
+against Bussy and Beuvron was fought. The spirit of
+the great Dumas, one feels, must haunt this Place: for
+it is peopled with ghosts from his brave romances.</p>
+
+<p>The decay of the Place des Vosges began, of course,
+when the aristocracy moved over to the Faubourg St.
+Germain, although it never sank low. The Revolution
+then took it in hand, and naturally began by destroying
+the statue of Louis XIII. in the centre, which Richelieu
+had set up, while its name was changed from Place
+Royale to its present style in honour of the Department
+of the Vosges, the first to contribute funds to the new
+order. In 1825, under Charles X., Louis XIII. in a
+new stone dress returned to his honoured position in
+the midst of the square, and all was as it should be once
+more, save that no longer did lords and ladies ruffle it
+here or in the Marais.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="vosges" id="vosges"></a>
+<img src="images/i_404.jpg" width="463" height="650" alt="THE PLACE DES VOSGES" />
+<p class="caption">THE PLACE DES VOSGES<br />
+<span class="s2">(SOUTHERN ENTRANCE, &nbsp;IN THE RUE BIRAGUE)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>The most picturesque associations of the Place des
+Vosges are historical; but it has at any rate three
+houses which have an artistic interest. At No. 1 was
+born that gifted and delightful lady in whose home in
+later years we have spent such pleasant hours&mdash;Madame
+de Sévigné, or as she was in those early days (she was
+born in 1626) Marie de Rabutin-Chantal. At No. 13
+lived for a while Rachel the tragedienne. According
+to Herr Baedeker, who is not often wrong, she died here
+too: but other authorities place her death at Carmet,
+near Toulon. I like to think that this rare wayward and
+terrible creature of emotion was once an inhabitant of
+these walls. The third house is No. 6, in the south-eastern
+corner, the second floor of which, from 1833 to
+1848, was the home of Victor Hugo. It is now a Hugo
+museum. Although Hugo occupied only a small portion,
+the whole house is now dedicated to his spreading
+memory. Let us enter.</p>
+
+<p>There is nothing in England like the Hugo museum.
+I have been to Carlyle's house in Cheyne Row; to
+Johnson's house at Lichfield; to Wordsworth's house at
+Grasmere; to Milton's house at Chalfont St. Giles; to
+Leighton's House at Kensington; and the impression
+left by all is that their owners lived very thin lives.
+The rooms convey a sense of bareness: one is struck
+not by the wealth of relics but by the poverty of them;
+while for any suggestion that these men were pulsating
+creatures of friendship one seeks in vain. But Hugo&mdash;Hugo's
+house throbs with life and energy and warm
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span>
+prosperous amities. Every inch is crowded with mementoes
+of his vigour and his triumphs, yes, and his
+failures too.</p>
+
+<p>Here are portraits of him by the hundred, at all ages,
+caricatures, lampoons, play bills, first editions, popular
+editions, furniture by Hugo, decorations by Hugo,
+drawings by Hugo, scenes in Hugo's life in exile,
+wreaths, busts, portraits of his grandchildren (who
+taught him the exquisite art of being a grandfather), his
+death-bed, his death-mask, the cast of his hands. Hugo,
+Hugo, everywhere, always tremendous and splendid and
+passionate and French.</p>
+
+<p>Among the more valuable possessions of this museum
+are Bastien-Lepage's charcoal drawing of the master;
+Besnard's picture of the first night of Hernani with the
+young romantic on the stage taking his call and hurling
+defiance at the gods; Steinlen's oil painting (there are
+not many oil paintings by this great draughtsman and
+great Parisian) "Les Pauvres Gens"; Daumier's cartoon
+"Les Châtiments"; Henner's "Sarah la Baigneuse"
+from <i>Les Orientales</i>; allegories by Chifflart; beautiful
+canvases by Carrière and Fantin-Latour; and Devambez's
+"Jean Valjean before the tribunal of Arras," in which
+Jean is curiously like Gladstone in a bad coat; Vierge's
+drawing of the funeral of Georges Hugo, during the
+siege; and Yama Motto's curious scene of Hugo's own
+funeral, of which there are many photographs, including
+one of the coffin as it lay in state for two days
+under the Arc de Triomphe. There are also a number
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span>
+of Hugo relics which the camelots of that day were
+selling to the crowds.</p>
+
+<p>Hugo, it is well known, nursed a private ambition to
+be a great artist, and in my opinion he was a great
+artist. There are on these walls drawings from his hand
+which are magnificent&mdash;mysterious and sombre fortresses
+on impregnable cliffs, scenes in enchanted lands with
+more imagination than ever Doré compassed, and some
+of the sinister cruelty and power of Méryon. Hugo
+was ingenious too: he decorated a room with coloured
+carvings in the Chinese manner and he made the neatest
+folding table I ever saw&mdash;hinged into the wall so that
+when not in use it takes up no floor-space whatever.</p>
+
+<p>It is amusing to follow Hugo's physiognomy through
+the ages, at first beardless, looking when young rather
+like Bruant, the chansonnier of to-day; then the coming
+of the beard, and the progress of it until the final stage
+in which the mental eye now always sees the old poet&mdash;white
+and strong and benevolent&mdash;the Hugo, in short,
+of Bonnat's famous portrait.</p>
+
+<p>On a table is a collection of literary souvenirs of
+intense interest: Hugo's pen and inkstand, and the
+great Dumas' pen presented to Hugo in 1860 after
+writing with it his last "15 or 20" volumes (fifteen <i>or</i>
+twenty&mdash;how like him!); Lamartine's inkstand, offered
+"to the master of the pen"; George Sand's match-box
+for those endless cigarettes, and with it her travelling
+inkstand. In another room upstairs are the six pens
+used by Hugo in writing <i>Les Humbles</i>. Dumas' pen is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span>
+not by any means the only Dumas relic here; portraits
+of him are to be seen, one of them astonishingly negroid.
+Had he too worked for liberty and carried in his breast
+or even on his sleeve a great heart that, like Hugo's,
+responded to every call and beat furiously at the very
+whisper of the word injustice, he too would have his
+museum to-day not less remarkable than this. But to
+write romances was not enough: there must be toil
+and suffering too.</p>
+
+<p>Dumas and Hugo were born in the same year, 1802:
+Balzac was then three. In 1809 came Tennyson and
+Gladstone; in 1811 Thackeray and in 1812 Browning
+and Dickens. What was the secret of that astounding
+period? Why did the first twelve years of the last
+century know such energy and abundance? To walk
+through the rooms of this Hugo museum, however
+casually, is to be amazed before the vitality and exuberance
+not only of this man but of the French genius. It
+is truly only the busy who have time. I wish none the
+less that there was a museum for Alexandre the Great.
+I would love to visit it: I would love to see his kitchen
+utensils alone. The generous glorious creature, "the
+seven and seventy times to be forgiven"! As it was,
+no one being about, I kissed the pen with which he had
+written his last "15 or 20" novels (the splendid liar!).</p>
+
+<p>I wish too that we had a permanent Dickens' museum
+in London&mdash;say at his house in Devonshire Terrace,
+which is now a lawyer's office. What a fascinating
+memorial of Merry England it might become, and what
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>
+a reminder to this attenuated specialising day of the
+vigour and versatility and variety and inconquerable
+vivacity of that giant! Just as no one can leave Hugo's
+house without a quickening of imagination and ambition,
+so no one could leave that of Charles Dickens.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to this museum Hugo has his monument
+in the Place Victor Hugo, far away in a residential desert
+in the north-west of Paris, a bronze figure of the poet as
+a young man seated on a rock, with Satire, Lyric Poetry
+and Fame attending him; while on the façade of the
+house where he died, No. 124 Avenue Victor Hugo, is a
+medallion portrait. He figures also in a fresco in the
+Hôtel de Ville. Dumas' monument is in the garden of
+the Place Malesherbes in the Avenue de Villiers. Doré
+designed it, as was perhaps fitting. The sturdy Alexandre
+sits, pen in hand, on the summit, his West Indian
+hair curling vigorously into the sky, with d'Artagnan
+and three engrossed readers at the base. It is not quite
+what one would have wished; but it is good to visit.
+His son, the dramatist, the author of that adorable joke
+against his father's vanity&mdash;that he was capable of riding
+behind his own carriage to persuade people that he kept
+a black servant&mdash;has a monument close by; and the
+gallant general of whom one reads such brave stories in
+the first volume of the <i>Mémoires</i> is to be set there too,
+and then the Place, I am told, will be re-named the
+Place des Trois Dumas.
+</p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="chapter_xx" id="chapter_xx"></a>CHAPTER XX<br />
+THE BASTILLE, PÈRE LACHAISE AND THE END</h2>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span></p>
+<p class="blockquot">
+A Thoughtful Municipality&mdash;The Fall of the Bastille&mdash;Revolt and
+Revolution&mdash;The Column of July&mdash;A Paris Canal&mdash;Deliberate
+Building&mdash;The Buttes-Chaumont&mdash;A City of the Dead&mdash;Père
+la Chaise&mdash;Bartholomé's Monument&mdash;The Cimetière de Mont
+Parnasse&mdash;The Country round Paris&mdash;What we have Missed&mdash;Conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>The Place des Vosges is close to the Place de la Bastille,
+which lies to the east of it along the Rue St.
+Antoine. The prison has gone for ever, but one is assisted
+by a thoughtful municipality to reconstruct it, a
+task of no difficulty at all if one remembers with any
+vividness the models in the Carnavalet or the Archives,
+or buys a pictorial postcard at any neighbouring shop.
+The contribution of the pious city fathers is a map on
+the façade of No. 36 Place de la Bastille, and a permanent
+outline of the walls of the dreadful building inlaid
+in the road and pavement, which one may follow
+step by step to the satisfaction of one's imagination and
+the derangement of the traffic until it disappears into
+cafés and shops. One has to remember, however, that
+the surface of the ground was much lower, the prison
+being surrounded by a moat and gained only by bridges.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span>
+For the actual stones one must go to the Pont de la
+Concorde, the upper part of which was built of them in
+1790.</p>
+
+<p>The Bastille's end came in 1789, at the beginning of
+the Revolution, on the day after the National Guard
+was established, when the people of Paris rose under
+Camille Desmoulins and captured it, thus not only displaying
+but discovering their strength. Carlyle was
+never more scornful, never more cruelly vivid, than in
+his description of this event. I must quote a little, it
+is so horribly splendid: "To describe this Siege of the
+Bastille (thought to be one of the most important in
+History) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals.
+Could one but, after infinite reading, get to understand
+so much as the plan of the building! But there is open
+Esplanade, at the end of the Rue Saint-Antoine; there
+are such Forecourts, <i>Cour Avanceé, Cour de l'Orme</i>,
+arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights);
+then new drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampart-bastions,
+and the grim Eight Towers: a labyrinthic Mass,
+high-frowning there, of all ages from twenty years to
+four hundred and twenty;&mdash;beleaguered, in this its last
+hour, as we said, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance
+of all calibres; throats of all capacities; men of all
+plans, every man his own engineer: seldom since the
+war of Pygmies and Cranes was there seen so anomalous
+a thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of regimentals;
+no one would heed him in coloured clothes:
+half-pay Hulin is haranguing Gardes Françaises in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span>
+Place de Grève. Frantic Patriots pick up the grapeshots;
+bear them, still hot (or seemingly so), to the
+Hôtel-de-Ville:&mdash;Paris, you perceive, is to be burnt!
+Flesselles is 'pale to the very lips'; for the roar of the
+multitude grows deep. Paris wholly has got to the
+acme of its frenzy; whirled, all ways, by panic madness.
+At every street-barricade, there whirls simmering a
+minor whirlpool,&mdash;strengthening the barricade, since God
+knows what is coming; and all minor whirlpools play
+distractedly into that grand Fire-Maelstrom which is
+lashing round the Bastille.</p>
+
+<p>"And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant
+has become an impromptu cannoneer. See
+Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh from Brest, ply
+the King of Siam's cannon. Singular (if we were not
+used to the like): Georget lay, last night, taking his
+ease at his inn; the King of Siam's cannon also lay,
+knowing nothing of <i>him</i>, for a hundred years. Yet
+now, at the right instant, they have got together, and
+discourse eloquent music. For, hearing what was toward,
+Georget sprang from the Brest Diligence, and
+ran. Gardes Françaises also will be here, with real
+artillery: were not the walls so thick!&mdash;Upwards from
+the Esplanade, horizontally from all neighbouring roofs
+and windows, flashes one irregular deluge of musketry,
+without effect. The Invalides lie flat, firing comparatively
+at their ease from behind stone; hardly through
+portholes show the tip of a nose. We fall, shot; and
+make no impression!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="bergere" id="bergere"></a>
+<img src="images/i_414.jpg" width="650" height="529" alt="LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS" />
+<p class="caption">LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS<br />
+<span class="s2">MILLET</span><br />
+<span class="s2">(<i>Louvre, Chauchard Collection</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>"Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible!
+Guard-rooms are burnt, Invalides mess-rooms.
+A distracted 'Perukemaker with two fiery torches' is
+for burning 'the saltpetres of the Arsenal';&mdash;had not
+a woman run screaming; had not a Patriot, with some
+tincture of Natural Philosophy, instantly struck the
+wind out of him (butt of musket on pit of stomach),
+overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring element.
+A young beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer
+Courts, and thought falsely to be De Launay's daughter,
+shall be burnt in De Launay's sight; she lies swooned
+on a paillasse: but again a Patriot, it is brave Aubin
+Bonnemère the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues her.
+Straw is burnt; three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go
+up in white smoke: almost to the choking of Patriotism
+itself; so that Elie had, with singed brows, to drag
+back one cart; and Réole the 'gigantic haberdasher'
+another. Smoke as of Tophet; confusion as of Babel;
+noise as of the Crack of Doom!</p>
+
+<p>"Blood flows; the aliment of new madness. The
+wounded are carried into houses of the Rue Cerisaie;
+the dying leave their last mandate not to yield till the
+accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall? The
+walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive
+from the Hôtel-de-Ville; Abbé Fauchet (who was of
+one) can say, with what almost superhuman courage of
+benevolence. These wave their Town-flag in the arched
+Gateway; and stand, rolling their drum; but to no
+purpose. In such Crack of Doom De Launay cannot
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span>
+hear them, dare not believe them: they return, with
+justified rage, the whew of lead still singing in their
+ears. What to do? The Firemen are here, squirting
+with their fire-pumps on the Invalides cannon, to wet
+the touchholes; they unfortunately cannot squirt so
+high; but produce only clouds of spray. Individuals
+of classical knowledge propose <i>catapults</i>. Santerre, the
+sonorous Brewer of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, advises
+rather that the place be fired, by a 'mixture of phosphorus
+and of oil-of-turpentine spouted up through
+forcing-pumps': O Spinola-Santerre, hast thou the
+mixture <i>ready</i>? Every man his own engineer! And
+still the fire-deluge abates not: even women are firing,
+and Turks; at least one woman (with her sweetheart),
+and one Turk. Gardes Françaises have come: real cannon,
+real cannoneers. Usher Maillard is busy; half-pay
+Elie, half-pay Hulin rage in the midst of thousands.</p>
+
+<p>"How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its
+Inner Court there, at its ease, hour after hour; as if
+nothing special, for it or the world, were passing! It
+tolled One when the firing began; and is now pointing
+towards Five, and still the firing slakes not.&mdash;Far down,
+in their vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as
+of earthquakes; their Turnkeys answer vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"Wo to thee, De Launay, with thy poor hundred
+Invalides! Broglie is distant, and his ears heavy:
+Besenval hears, but can send no help. One poor troop
+of Hussars has crept, reconnoitering, cautiously along
+the Quais, as far as the Pont Neuf. 'We are come to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>
+join you,' said the Captain; for the crowd seem shoreless.
+A large-headed dwarfish individual, of smoke-bleared
+aspect, shambles forward, opening his blue lips, for there
+is sense in him; and croaks: 'Alight then, and give
+up your arms!' The Hussar-Captain is too happy to
+be escorted to the Barriers, and dismissed on parole.
+Who the squat individual was? Men answer, It is M.
+Marat, author of the excellent pacific <i>Avis au Peuple</i>!
+Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy
+day of emergence and new-birth: and yet this same day
+come four years&mdash;!&mdash;But let the curtains of the Future
+hang."</p>
+
+<p>After some hours the deed is done and Paris re-echoes
+to the cries "La Bastille est prise!" "In the Court,
+all is mystery, not without whisperings of terror; though
+ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye foolish women!
+His Majesty, kept in happy ignorance, perhaps dreams
+of double-barrels and the Woods of Meudon. Late at
+night, the Duke de Liancourt, having official right of
+entrance, gains access to the Royal Apartments; unfolds,
+with earnest clearness, in his constitutional way, the
+Job's-news. '<i>Mais</i>,' said poor Louis, '<i>c'est une révolte</i>,
+Why, that is a revolt!'&mdash;'Sire,' answered Liancourt, 'it
+is not a revolt,&mdash;it is a revolution.'"</p>
+
+<p>That was July 14th, 1789; but it is not the July that
+the Colonne de Juillet in the centre of the Place celebrates.
+That July was forty-one years later, not so late
+but that many Parisians could remember both events.
+July 27th to 29th, 1830, the Second Revolution, which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span>
+overturned the Bourbons and set Louis-Philippe of
+Orleans in the siège périlleux of France. Louis-Philippe
+himself erected this monument in memory of the six
+hundred and fifteen citizens who fell in his interests and
+who are buried beneath. Their names are cut in the
+bronze of the column, on the summit of which is the
+beautiful winged figure of Liberty.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath the vault of the Colonne, and immediately
+beneath the Colonne itself, runs the great canal which
+brings merchandise into Paris from the east, entering
+the Seine between the Pont Sully and the Pont d'Austerlitz.
+At this point it is not very interesting, but from
+the Avenue de la République, where it re-emerges again
+into the light of day, and thence right away to the Abattoirs
+de Villette, it is very amusing to stroll by. The
+Paris <i>Daily Mail</i>, which in its eager paternal way has
+taken English and American visitors completely under
+its wing, is diurnally anxious that its readers should
+make a tour of these abattoirs. But not I. That a
+holiday in Paris should include the examination of a
+slaughter-house strikes me as a joyless proposition, putting
+thoroughness far before pleasure. But the <i>Daily
+Mail</i> is like that; it also does its best on the second and
+fourth Wednesdays in every month to get its compatriots
+down the Paris sewers. And I suppose they go. Strange
+heart of the tourist! We never think of penetrating
+either to the sewers or the slaughter-houses of our native
+land; we have no theories of sewers, no data for comparison;
+we love the upper air and the sun. But being
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span>
+in a foreign city we cheerfully give the second or fourth
+Wednesday to such delights.</p>
+
+<p>Having taken the <i>Daily Mail's</i> advice and visited the
+abattoirs (which I have not done), one cannot do better
+than return to Paris by way of the canal, sauntering
+beside it all the way to the Rue Faubourg du Temple,
+where one passes into the Place de la République and
+the stir of the city once more. The canal descends
+from the heights of La Villette in a series of long steps,
+as it were (or, to take the most dissonant simile possible
+to devise, like the lakes at Wootton), built up by locks.
+Idling by this canal one sees many agreeable phases of
+human toil. Many commodities and materials reach
+Paris by barge, and it is on these quais and in the
+Villette basin that the unloading is done; while the
+barges themselves are pleasant spectacles&mdash;so long and
+clean and broad&mdash;very Mauretanias beside the barges of
+Holland&mdash;with spacious deck-houses that are often perfect
+villas, the wife and children watering the flowers at
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>One quai is given up wholly to lime. This arrives in
+thousands of little solid sacks which stevedores whiter
+than millers transfer to the carts, that, in their turn,
+creak off to disorganise the traffic of a hundred streets
+and provoke the contempt of a thousand drivers before
+they reach their destined building, on which the workmen
+have already been engaged for two years and will
+be engaged for two years more. There is no hurry
+in constructional work in Paris&mdash;except of course on
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span>
+Exhibitions, which spring up in a night. The same piece
+of road that was up in the Rue Lafayette for some surface
+trouble in a recent April, I found still up in October.
+But they have the grace, when rebuilding a house in
+the city, to hide their deliberate processes behind a
+wooden screen&mdash;such a screen as was opposite the Café
+de la Paix, at the south-east corner of the Boulevard
+des Capucines, for, it seems to me, years.</p>
+
+<p>If, however, one is walking beside the canal in the
+other direction, up the hill instead of down, one will
+soon be nearer the Victoria Park of Paris, the park of
+the east end, than at any other time, and this should
+be visited as surely as the abattoirs should be avoided:
+unless, of course, one is a well-informed or thoughtful
+butcher. We have seen the Parc Monceau; well, the
+antithesis of the Parc Monceau, which has no counter-part
+in London, is the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.
+Both are children's paradises, the only difference in the
+children being social position. The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont
+is sixty acres of trees and walks and perpendicular
+rocks and water, the special charm of which is
+its diversified character, rising in the midst to an immense
+height made easy for carriages and perambulators by a
+winding road. It has a deep gorge crossed by a suspension
+bridge, a lake for boats, a cascade, and thousands
+of chairs side by side, touching, lining the roads, on
+which the maids and matrons of La Villette and Belleville
+sew and gossip, while the children play around. The
+parc was made in the sixties: before then it had been a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span>
+waste ground and gypsum quarry&mdash;hence its attractive
+irregularities. How wonderful the heights and cathedral
+of Montmartre can appear from one of the peaks of the
+Buttes-Chaumont, Mr. Dexter's drawing shows.</p>
+
+<p>The Buttes-Chaumont is the most easterly point we
+have yet reached; but there is another parc more
+easterly still awaiting us, not unlike the Buttes-Chaumont
+in its acclivities, but unlike it in this particular,
+that it is a parc not of the living but the dead. I mean
+Père Lachaise. Père Lachaise! What kind of an old
+man do you think gave his name to this cemetery?
+Most persons, I imagine, see him as white-haired and
+venerable: not twinkling, like Papa Gontier, but serene
+and noble and sad. As a matter of fact he was a père
+only by profession and courtesy. Père Lachaise was
+Louis XIV.'s fashionable confessor (Landor has a diverting
+imaginary conversation between these two), and the
+cemetery took its name from his house, which chanced to
+occupy the site of the present chapel. The ground was
+enclosed as a burial ground as recently as 1804, which
+means of course that the famous tomb of Abélard and
+Héloise, to which all travellers find their way, is a
+modern reconstruction. The remains of La Fontaine
+and Molière and other illustrious men who died before
+1804 were transferred here, just as Zola's were recently
+transferred from the cemetery of Montmartre to the
+Panthéon, but with less excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Père Lachaise cannot be taken lightly. The French
+live very thoroughly, but when they die they die
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span>
+thoroughly too, and their cemeteries confess the scythe.
+There may be, to our thinking, too much architecture;
+but it is serious. There is no mountebanking (as at
+Genoa), nor is there any whining, as in some of our own
+churchyards. Death to a Frenchman is a fact and a
+mystery, to be faced when the time comes, if not before,
+and to be honoured. On certain festivals of the year there
+are a thousand mourners to every acre of Père Lachaise.</p>
+
+<p>The natural entrance is by the Rue de la Roquette,
+but it is less fatiguing to enter at the top, at the new
+gate in the Avenue du Père Lachaise, and walk downhill;
+for the paths are steep and the cemetery covers
+a hundred acres and more. The objection to this course
+is that one loses some of the sublimity of Bartholomé's
+<i>Monument aux Morts</i> at the foot of the mountain on
+which the chapel stands. This monument faces the
+principal entrance with the careful design of impressing
+the visitor, and its impact can be tremendous. We
+approach it by the Avenue Principale, in which lies
+Alfred de Musset, with the willow waving over his tomb
+and his own lines upon it.</p>
+
+<p>And then one enters seriously upon this strange pilgrimage
+among names and memories. Chopin lies here,
+his music stilled, and Talma the tragedian; Beaumarchais
+and Maréchal Ney; Cherubini and Alphonse
+Daudet; Balzac, his pen for ever idle, and Delacroix;
+Béranger, who made the nation's ballads, and Brillat-Savarin,
+all his dinners eaten; Michelet, the historian,
+and Planquette, the composer of <i>Les Cloches de Corneville</i>;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span>
+Daumier, the great artist who saw to the heart of things,
+and Corot, who befriended Daumier's last years; Daubigny
+and Rosa Bonheur, Thiers and Scribe; Rachel,
+once so very living, and many Rothschilds now poorer
+than I.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="morts" id="morts"></a>
+<img src="images/i_424.jpg" width="650" height="473" alt="LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS" />
+<p class="caption">LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS<br />
+<span class="s2">A. BARTHOLOMÉ</span><br />
+
+<span class="s2">(<i>Père la Chaise</i>)</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Paris has other cemeteries, as we know, for we have
+walked through that of Montmartre; but there is also
+the Cimetière de Montparnasse, where lie Sainte-Beuve
+and Leconte de Lisle, Théodore de Banville, master of
+<i>vers de société</i>, and Fantin-Latour, Baudelaire (lying
+beneath a figure of the Genius of Evil), and Barbey
+d'Aurevilly, the dandy-novelist. There are also the
+cemeteries of Passy and Picpus, but into these I have
+never wandered. Lafayette lies at Picpus, which is behind
+a convent in the Rue de Picpus, and costs fifty centimes
+to see, and there also were buried many victims of the
+guillotine besides those whose bodies were flung into
+the earth behind the Madeleine.</p>
+
+<hr class="l15" />
+
+<p>All the space at my disposal has been required by
+Paris itself; and such is the human interest that at any
+rate in the older parts clings to every stone and saturates
+the soil, that I do not know that I have had any temptation
+to rove beyond the fortifications. But that of
+course is not right. No one really knows the Parisians
+until he sees them in happy summer mood in one of
+the pleasure resorts on the Seine, or winning money at
+Enghien, or lunching in one of the tree-top restaurants
+at Robinson. We have indeed been curiously unenterprising,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span>
+and it is all owing to the fascination of Paris herself
+and the narrow dimensions of this book. We have
+not even been to St. Denis, to stand among the ashes
+of the French kings; we have not descended the formal
+slopes of St. Cloud; we have not peeped into Corot's
+little chapel at Ville d'Avray; we have not seen the
+home of Sèvres porcelain; we have not scaled Mont-Valérien;
+we have not taken boat for Marly-le-Roi; we
+have not wandered marvelling but weary amid the battle
+scenes of Versailles, or smiled at the pretty fopperies of
+the hamlet of the Petit Trianon. We have not known
+the groves either of the Bois de Vincennes or the Bois de
+Meudon.</p>
+
+<p>Much less have we fed those guzzling gourmands,
+the carp of Chantilly, or lost ourselves before the little
+Raphael there, or the curious Leonardo sketch for La
+Joconde, or the sweet simplicities of the pretty Jean
+Fouquet illuminations, particularly the domestic solicitude
+of the ladies attending upon the birth of John the
+Baptist; less still have we forgotten the restlessness and
+urgency of Paris amid the allées and rochers of the
+Forest of Fontainebleau, and the still white streets of
+Barbizon, or even on the steps of the château where the
+Great Emperor, thoughts of whom are never very distant&mdash;are
+indeed too near&mdash;bade farewell to his Old
+Guard in 1814.</p>
+
+<p>Greater Paris, it will be gathered, is hardly less interesting
+than Paris herself; and indeed how pleasant
+it would be to write about it! But not here.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Of Paris within the fortifications have I, I wonder,
+conveyed any of the fascination, the variety, the colour,
+the self-containment. I hope so. I hope too that at
+any rate these pages have implanted in a few readers
+the desire to see this beautiful and efficient city for
+themselves, and even more should I value the knowledge
+that they had excited in others who are not
+strangers to Paris the wish to be there again. To do
+justice to such a city, with such a history, is of course
+an impossibility. What, however, should not be impossible
+is to create a goût.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="p6"><a name="index" id="index"></a>INDEX</h2>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Abattoirs</span>, the, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Abbaye-aux-Bois, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Abélard, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Advocates and barristers, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Alvantes, Duchesse d', <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Angelo, Michael, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Anne of Austria, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Antoinette, Marie, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Apollon, Galerie d', <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arbre-Sec, Rue de l', <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arc de Triomphe, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>-<a href="#Page_145">45</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Archives, the, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arènes, the, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aristocratic homes, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arnold, Matthew, quoted, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>-<a href="#Page_269">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Artagnan, D', <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arts et Métiers, Musée de, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Astruc, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Attila the Hun, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aurevilly, B. d', <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Austerlitz, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ave-Maria, Rue de l', <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Baedeker</span>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Bagatelle," <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bal Bullier, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Balloons, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Balzac, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Banville, T. de, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Barbizon School, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>-<a href="#Page_106">6</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bard, Wilkie, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Barristers and advocates, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Barry, the St. Bernard dog, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bartholomé, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bartholomew, St., Massacre of, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Barye, the sculptor, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bassano, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bastien-Lepage, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bastille, the, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>-<a href="#Page_312">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Baudelaire, Charles, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beauharnais, Joséphine, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beaumarchais, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beaumaris, Madame de, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beaux-Arts, Palais des, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beggars in Paris, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bellini, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bénéfices, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Béranger, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bergère, Cité, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Berlioz, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bernard, Saint, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bernhardt, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li><i>Besieged Resident, the</i>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>-<a href="#Page_213">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Besnard, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bibliothèque de Mazarin, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Nationale, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bièvre, the river, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bigio, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Billiards in Paris, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>-<a href="#Page_222">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Birague, Rue de, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Birds, the charmer of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>-<a href="#Page_130">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Birrell, Mr. Augustine, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blanche, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+  <li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bodley, Mr., <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boilly, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bois de Boulogne, the, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>-<a href="#Page_149">49</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bol, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bone, Mr. Muirhead, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bonheur, Rosa, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bonington, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bonnat, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bons Enfants, Rue des, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bookhunters, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Bookstalls in Paris and London, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>-<a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Borssom, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Botticelli, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bottin, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boucher, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bouland, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boulevardiers, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boulevards, Grands, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bourse, the, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boverie, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Brillat-Savarin, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Brisemiche, Rue, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bruant, Aristide, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Building in Paris, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Buridan, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Buttes-Chaumont, Parc, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li>
+</ul></div>
+
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Cabarets</span> artistiques, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cabman, the singing, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cabmen in Paris, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>-<a href="#Page_242">42</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Café de la Paix, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_243">43</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cafés, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; night, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>-<a href="#Page_275">75</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cain, M. Georges, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Canals, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Capel Court, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Capucines, Boulevard des, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>-<a href="#Page_224">24</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Caran d'Ache, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carlyle, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; quoted, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>-<a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>-<a href="#Page_121">21</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>-<a href="#Page_137">37</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_281">81</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_311">11</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carnavalet, Musée, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>-<a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Caro-Delvalle, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carolus-Duran, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carpeaux, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carrière, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carriès, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carrousel, Arc de, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>-<a href="#Page_121">21</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cartoons in the street, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cartouche, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Caxton, William, quoted, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>-<a href="#Page_191">91</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>-<a href="#Page_255">55</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cazin, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cemeteries in Paris, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_317">17</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cerrito, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cerutti, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Champions of France, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Champs-Elysées, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chanoinesse, Rue, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chantilly, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chardin, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Charlemagne, Passage, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Charles X., <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Charmer of birds, the, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>-<a href="#Page_130">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chateaubriand, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chauchard Collection, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chaudet, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chauffeurs in Paris, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chaussée d'Antin, Rue de la, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chavannes, Puvis de, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cherubini, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chifflart, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Childeric, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chopin, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Christianity in Paris, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Church music, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Churches&mdash;
+<ul class="none">
+<li>Blancs-Manteaux, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li>
+<li>Madeleine, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+<li>Panthéon, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>-<a href="#Page_196">96</a>.</li>
+<li>Petits Pères, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+<li>Sacré-C&oelig;ur, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li>
+<li>St. Elizabeth of Hungary, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Etienne-du-Mont, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>-<a href="#Page_198">98</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Eugène, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Eustache, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Germain du Pré, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; l'Auxerrois, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>-<a href="#Page_288">88</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Jacques-la-Boucherie, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Joseph de Carmes, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Julien le Pauvre, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Merry, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Nicholas-des-Champs, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Paul and St. Louis, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Roch, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>-<a href="#Page_281">81</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Severin, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Sorbonne, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Sulpice, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li>
+</ul></li>
+
+<li>"Ciel," <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cigars in Paris, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cimetières in Paris, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>-<a href="#Page_270">70</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; du Nord, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>-<a href="#Page_270">70</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Claque, the, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clarac collection, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Claude, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clichy, Boulevard, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Clocks in Paris, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clotilde, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clouet, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clovis, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cluny, Musée de, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>-<a href="#Page_184">84</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coligny, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Colonna, Vittoria, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Colonne de Juillet, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Commune, the, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Compas d'Or, the, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Comte, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Concierge, the, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Conciergerie, the, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>-<a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Concorde, the Place de La, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Pont de la, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Conservatoire, the, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Constable, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coquelin, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Corday, Charlotte, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Corot, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Correggio, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cosimo, Piero di, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cour du Dragon, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coustou, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Couture, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coyzevox, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Curiosity shops, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap"><i>Daily Mail</i></span> in Paris, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dalou, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dammouse, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dancing halls, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dante, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Daubigny, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Daudet, Alphonse, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Daumier, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>David, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Madame, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; G., <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Da Vinci, Leonardo, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>-<a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Death and the French, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Decamps, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Degas, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delacroix, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delair, Frédéric, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delaroche, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delibes, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li>
+
+<li>De Musset, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>De Neuville, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Denis, Saint, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Desmoulins, Camille, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Devils of Notre Dame, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dexter, Mr., as a tipster, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; his conception of Paris, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Diaz, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Diderot and the pretty bookseller, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dobson, Mr. Austin, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dogs in Paris, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>-<a href="#Page_209">9</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; cemetery, the, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Donizetti, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Doré, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dou, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Drouot, Rue, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dubois, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Duel, a famous, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dufayel, Maison, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>-<a href="#Page_266">66</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dumas, Alexandre, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; fils, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Duncan, Isidora, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dupré, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dürer, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dutch School, the, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dutuit collection, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Economy</span> in Paris, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Eiffel Tower, the, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Elizabeth, Madame, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Elocutionist, the, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Elysée, the, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; de Montmartre, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Enfer," <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Enghien, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>English and French, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Estrées, Duchesse d', <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Etoile, Place de l', <a href="#Page_142">142</a>-<a href="#Page_145">45</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Eustache, Saint, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Execution of Louis XVI., <a href="#Page_134">134</a>-<a href="#Page_137">37</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Robespierre, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Eyck, J. van, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Fabriano</span>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fairs in Paris, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Falguière, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fallières, President, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fantin-Latour, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Faubourg Saint-Honoré, Rue du, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Poissonière, Rue du, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ferronnerie, Rue de la, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fête de St. Geneviève, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Figuier, Rue, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>FitzGerald, Edward, quoted, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Flandrin, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Flinck, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Flower markets, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fontainebleau, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fouquet, Jean, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fragonard, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>François I., <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>François-Miron, Rue, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Françoise-Marguerite, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Francs-Bourgeois, Rue des, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Frémiet, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li>
+
+<li>French, the, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; and English, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Revolution, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>-<a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>-<a href="#Page_121">21</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>-<a href="#Page_137">37</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_281">81</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_311">11</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Gallas</span>, the, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gambetta monument, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gare de Lyon, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; du Nord, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; St. Lazare, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Garnier, Charles, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gautier, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Genée, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Geneviève, St., <a href="#Page_188">188</a>-<a href="#Page_192">92</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Genlis, Madame de, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Germain, Saint, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>-<a href="#Page_288">88</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ghirlandaios, the, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gibbon, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Giotto, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gladstone, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Goat-herd, the, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gold and silver, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li>
+
+<li><i>Golden Legend, The</i>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>-<a href="#Page_191">91</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>-<a href="#Page_255">55</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Goncourts, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Goujon, Jean, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gounod, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grand Café, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grandpré, Louise de, quoted, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>-<a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>-<a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grands Boulevards, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Granié, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grenelle, Rue de, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Greuze, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grève, Place de, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grévin, the Musée, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grolier, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gronow, Captain, quoted, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>-<a href="#Page_173">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Guides, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Guillotine, the, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Habeneck</span>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Halévy, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Halles, the, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_292">92</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; des Vins, the, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hals, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Haraucourt, M. Edmond, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; translated, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Harpignies, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Haussmann, Boulevard, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Baron, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Heine, Henrich, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>-<a href="#Page_269">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Héloïse, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Henley, W. E., <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Henner, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Henri II., <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; IV., <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hérold, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Heyden, van der, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hippodrome, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>His de la Salle collection, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hobbema, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hoffbauer, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Horloge, the, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hospital of the Trinity, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hôtel de Ville, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>-<a href="#Page_296">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Rue de l', <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;  &mdash;&mdash; Sens, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; des Monnaies, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>-<a href="#Page_169">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Houdon, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hugo, Victor, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>-<a href="#Page_35">5</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Georges, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Huysmanns, quoted, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hyacinthe, Père, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span></li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Ile</span> de la Cité, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>-<a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; St. Louis, the, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>-<a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Imprimerie Nationale, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ingres, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Innocents, Square des, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Institut, the, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Invalides, Hôtel des, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>-<a href="#Page_157">57</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Isabey, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Italiens, Boulevard des, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Jabach</span>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jacqueminot, Ignace, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jardin d'Acclimatation, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>-<a href="#Page_207">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; des Plantes, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>-<a href="#Page_205">5</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jena, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jeraud, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Joan of Arc, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Joconde, La," <a href="#Page_81">81</a>-<a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Joke, the one, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Joseph, Frère, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Josephine, the Empress, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jouy, Rue de, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Karbowski</span>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Key, sign of the, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Lablache</span>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Labouchere, Mr., quoted, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>-<a href="#Page_213">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lachaise, Père, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_317">17</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lafayette, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Laffitte, Jacques, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>La Fontaine, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lamartine, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Mary, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lancret, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Landor quoted, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lang, Mr. Andrew, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Latin Quarter, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>-<a href="#Page_181">81</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Latude, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>-<a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lauder, Harry, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Laurens, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Law, John, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Le Brun, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Le Courtier, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lecouvreur, Adrienne, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Legros, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Le Nain, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Leno, Dan, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lepage, Bastien, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Le Sidaner, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Letter-boxes, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lippi, Fra Filippo, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lisle, Leconte de, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Livry, Emma, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Liszt, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>London and bookstalls, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Paris, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_292">92</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Longchamp, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>-<a href="#Page_149">49</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lotto, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Louis-Philippe, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Louis, Saint, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>-<a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XII., <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XIII., <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XIV., <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XV., <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XVI., <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; XVIII., <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Louvre, Musée du, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>-<a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lowell, J. R., quoted, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Loyola, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lucas the failure, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Luini, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Luxembourg, the, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>-<a href="#Page_179">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Luxor column, the, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lyons mail, the, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Madeleine</span>, the, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>-<a href="#Page_218">18</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mainardi, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Malibran, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Manet, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mantegna, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marais, the, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>-<a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marat, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marcel, Etienne, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marguery, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marie Antoinette, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marius, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marly le Roi, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Martin, Saint, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Martyrs, Chambre de, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue des, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Massacre of Swiss Guards, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>-<a href="#Page_121">21</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Massacre of St. Bartholomew, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Massé, Victor, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Masson, Frédéric, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Maupassant, Guy de, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mazarin, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Medals and their designers, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Médicis, Catherine de, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; fountain, the, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Marie de, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Meilhac, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Meissonier, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Memling, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Méryon, Charles, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Messina, Antonello di, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Metsu, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Meudon, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Meyerbeer, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mi-Carême, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Michel, Georges, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Michelet, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Millet, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mint, the Paris, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>-<a href="#Page_169">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mirabeau, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Molière, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Monceau, Parc, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Monet, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Money, bad, in Paris, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Monnaies, Hôtel de, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>-<a href="#Page_169">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Monna Lisa," <a href="#Page_81">81</a>-<a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mont de Piété, the, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Parnasse, Cimetière, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Valérien, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Montesquieu, Rue, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Montgomery, Captain, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Montmartre, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>-<a href="#Page_275">75</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Montorgeuil, Rue, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Moreau collection, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Musée, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Morgue, the, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mottez, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Motto, Yama, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Moulin-de-la-Galette, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rouge, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Moulins, Le Maître de, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mousseaux, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Murger, Henri, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Murillo, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Musée de l'Armée, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>-<a href="#Page_157">57</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Arts et Métiers, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Carnavalet, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>-<a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Cernuschi, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; de Cluny, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>-<a href="#Page_184">84</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; du Conservatoire, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Grévin, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Guimet, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; du Louvre, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>-<a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; de Luxembourg, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>-<a href="#Page_179">79</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Moreau, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; de l'Opéra, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Musées des Jardin des Plantes, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Music in Paris, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Hall, the, in Paris, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Musical trophies, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Musset, Alfred de, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mystery plays, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Napoleon</span> and the Arc de Triomphe, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; end of the Revolution, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_281">81</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Madeleine, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Old Guard, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Panthéon, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; statue of Henri IV., <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Vendôme column, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; at St. Sulpice, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; his coronation, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>-<a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; early palaces, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; interest in art, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; iron bridge, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; relics, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>-<a href="#Page_157">57</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; second funeral, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; tomb, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; two Arcs, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; in two pictures, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; meets Josephine, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; relics at the Carnavalet, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; III., <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; rebuilds Paris, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Néant, Cabaret de, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Necker, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Newspapers in France, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>-<a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>New Year's Eve, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>New York, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ney, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Night cafés, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>-<a href="#Page_275">75</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Nodier, Charles, on the book-hunter, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Notre Dame, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>-<a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Offenbach</span>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Olivier, Père, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Olympia Taverne, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Opera, the, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ostade, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Paganini</span>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pailleron, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Painting, modern, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Paix, Café de la, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_243">43</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue de la, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Palais de Justice, the, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>-<a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; des Beaux-Arts, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Royal, the, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Palma, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Panthéon, the, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>-<a href="#Page_196">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pari-Mutuel, the, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Paris and balloons, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; beggars, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Christianity, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; economy, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; its aristocratic quarters, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; billiard saloons, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>-<a href="#Page_222">22</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; bird's-eye views, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; cemeteries, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_317">17</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; civic museums, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>-<a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; clocks, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; dogs, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>-<a href="#Page_209">9</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; early history, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; fickleness, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; flats, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Mint, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>-<a href="#Page_169">69</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; mobs, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; newspapers, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>-<a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; restaurants, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Royal Academy Schools, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; royal palaces, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Salons, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; sculpture, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; stations, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; statuary, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; two Zoos, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; views, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; waiters, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; late hours, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; London, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>-<a href="#Page_292">92</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; the play, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; post, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; ship, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; as Méryon saw it, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; fairs, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; from Notre Dame, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; the Eiffel Tower, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; in the small hours, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>-<a href="#Page_275">75</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; pleasure of entering, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>-<a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; under siege, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>-<a href="#Page_213">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parisian, the, his provinciality, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pascal, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Passy, Cimetière de, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pasteur, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pater, Walter, quoted, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>-<a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pawning in Paris, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Peacocks, the, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>-<a href="#Page_204">4</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Père Lachaise, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>-<a href="#Page_317">17</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Lunette, Le, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Perugino, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Picard, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Picpus, Cimetière de, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pigalle, Rue, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pinaigriers, the, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Planquette, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pointelin, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pol, Henri, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>-<a href="#Page_130">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Police of Paris, the, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pompadour, Madame la, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pompeii, treasures of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pompes Funèbres, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pont au Change, the, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Alexandre III., <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; de la Concorde, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Neuf, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Porte Maillot, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; St. Denis, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>-<a href="#Page_256">56</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; St. Martin, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Post, the, in Paris, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pot, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Potter, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Poussin, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Préfecture de Police, the, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Print shops, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Procope, Café, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Prud'hon, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li>
+
+<li>Puget, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Quai</span> des Célestins, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Quasimodo, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Quatre-Septembre, Rue du, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Rabelais</span>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rachel, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Racine, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Raeburn, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ramly, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Raphael, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ravaillac, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Reason, Goddess of, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Cult of, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>-<a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Réaumur, Rue, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Récamier, Madame, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Religion advertised, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rembrandt, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Renan, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Renaudon, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Renoir, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Republic, Third, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Republican palace, a, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Republics in statuary, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>République, Place de la, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Restaurants, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>-<a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Restoration, the, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>-<a href="#Page_125">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Réveillon, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Revolution, the, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>-<a href="#Page_139">39</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>-<a href="#Page_311">11</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of 1830, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Revue, the, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Richelieu, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rue de, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Riding schools, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rivoli, Rue de, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Robespierre, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Robinson, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rochefoucauld, Rue, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rodin, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Roland, Madame, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Roman remains in Paris, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Romney, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rossini, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rothschild collection, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rougemont, Cité, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rousseau, J. J., <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rubens, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rude, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ruggieri, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ruisdael, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Sacré-C&oelig;ur</span>, the, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>St. Antoine, Rue, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>-<a href="#Page_299">99</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Bartholomew, Massacre of, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Cloud, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Denis, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Dominic, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Francis, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Geneviève, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>-<a href="#Page_192">92</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Germain, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Honoré, Rue, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>-<a href="#Page_286">86</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Martin Priory, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Rue, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Merry, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Peter, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sainte-Beuve, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Chapelle, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Saints-Pères, Rue, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the mothers of, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Salis, Rodolphe, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Salons, the, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Samson, the headman, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sand, George, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sargent, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sarto, Andrea del, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scheffer, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scribe, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sculpture in Paris, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>-<a href="#Page_110">10</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Seine, the, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sens, Hôtel de, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sévigné, Madame de, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sèvres, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sewers, the, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shaftesbury Avenue, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shaw, Mr. Bernard, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sicard, the Abbé, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Siege of 1870, the, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>-<a href="#Page_213">13</a>.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span></li>
+
+<li>Sisley, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Soitoux, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Solario, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sorbonne, the, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>-<a href="#Page_181">81</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Steinlen, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sterne, Laurence, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Stockbrokers in Paris, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Stoppeur, the, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Street life in Paris, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>-<a href="#Page_243">43</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Streets, favourite, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Student life, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Suresnes, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Swiss Guards, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>-<a href="#Page_121">21</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Tabarin</span>, Bal, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tailors, political, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Talma, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Temple, the, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tennyson, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Terburg, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Terra-cottas, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thackeray, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thames, the, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thaulow, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Theatre, the first, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the, in Paris, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>-<a href="#Page_234">34</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Theatres, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thémines, the Marquis de, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thiers, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; collection, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thomas, Ambroise, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thomy-Thierret collection, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tiber, the, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tintoretto, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tissot, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Titian, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tortoni, Café, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>-<a href="#Page_173">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tour d'Argent, the, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Saint-Jacques, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Traffic, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Trajan, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Triomphe, Arc de, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>-<a href="#Page_145">45</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li><i>Tristan und Isolde</i>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Troyon, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tuileries, the, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>-<a href="#Page_131">31</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Uccello</span>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Uzanne, Octave, on the booksellers, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Valois</span>, Rue, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Van de Velde, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Dyck, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vasari, quoted, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Véber, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Velasquez, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vendôme, Place, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Venus of Milo, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Verdi, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vermeer, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Veronese, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Versailles, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vestris, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Viarmes, Rue de, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Victor Hugo, Avenue de, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vierge, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Views in Paris, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>-<a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Villebresme, Vicomte de, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ville d'Avray, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Hôtel de, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>-<a href="#Page_296">96</a>.</li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; Rue de l', <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vincennes, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vinci, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>-<a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Virgin, the, and the Bird, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>-<a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Voisin's, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vollon, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Volney, Rue, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Voltaire, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vosges, Place des, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Waiters</span>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wallace, Sir Richard, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Watteau, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Waxworks in Paris, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Weenix, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Weerts, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Weyden, Roger van der, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Whiff of Grapeshot, the, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>-<a href="#Page_281">81</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Whistler, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wiertz, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Willette, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Winged Victory, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Women in Paris, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>.</li>
+
+</ul>
+</div>
+<div class="left25">
+<ul class="none">
+<li><span class="smcap">Ziem</span>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Zola, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Zurbaran, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li>
+</ul></div>
+
+<p class="center p6">ABERDEEN: THE UNIVERSITY PRESS</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes p6"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>Yet for Vasari there was further magic of crimson in the lips and
+cheeks, lost for us. <i>Pater's note.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>I have since learned that this is the same dog, Barry by name,
+who has a monument on the St. Bernard Pass, and is stuffed in the
+Natural History Museum at Berne. But I know nothing of his connexion
+with Paris.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
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+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WANDERER IN PARIS***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,10629 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Wanderer in Paris, by E. V. Lucas,
+Illustrated by Walter Dexter
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Wanderer in Paris
+
+
+Author: E. V. Lucas
+
+
+
+Release Date: November 6, 2011  [eBook #37937]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WANDERER IN PARIS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Melissa McDaniel, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 37937-h.htm or 37937-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37937/37937-h/37937-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37937/37937-h.zip)
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document
+      have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been
+      corrected.
+
+      Text printed in italics in the original document is enclosed
+      here between underscores, as in _italics_.
+
+
+
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS
+
+     Mr. Ingleside
+     Over Bemerton's
+     Listener's Lure
+     London Lavender
+     One Day and Another
+     Fireside and Sunshine
+     Character and Comedy
+     Old Lamps for New
+     The Hambledon Men
+     The Open Road
+     The Friendly Town
+     Her Infinite Variety
+     Good Company
+     The Gentlest Art
+     The Second Post
+     A Little of Everything
+     A Swan and Her Friends
+     A Wanderer in Florence
+     A Wanderer in London
+     A Wanderer in Holland
+     The British School
+     Highways and Byways in Sussex
+     Anne's Terrible Good Nature
+     The Slowcoach
+     Sir Pulteney
+     The Life of Charles Lamb
+       and
+     The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles
+       Lamb: I. Miscellaneous Prose; II. Elia;
+       III. Children's Books; IV. Poems and
+       Plays; V. and VI. Letters
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+  [Illustration: HOTEL DE SENS
+   THE RUE DE L'HOTEL DE VILLE]
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+by
+
+E. V. LUCAS
+
+With Sixteen Illustrations in Colour by Walter Dexter
+and Thirty-Two Reproductions from Works of Art
+
+
+"I'll go and chat with Paris"
+_--Romeo and Juliet_
+
+TENTH EDITION
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Methuen & Co. Ltd.
+36 Essex Street W.C.
+London
+
+_First Published (Crown 8vo)_               _August 5th 1909_
+_Second Edition (  "  )_                    _September 1909_
+_Third Edition (  "  )_                     _October 1909_
+_Fourth Edition (  "  )_                    _January 1910_
+_Fifth Edition  (  "  )_                    _June 1910_
+_Sixth Edition  (  "  )_                    _December 1910_
+_Seventh Edition, revised (Fcap. 8vo)_      _September 1911_
+_Eighth Edition (Crown 8vo)_                _October 1911_
+_Ninth Edition (  "  )_                     _March 1912_
+_Tenth Edition (  "  )_                     _February 1913_
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+Although the reader will quickly make the discovery for himself, I
+should like here to emphasise the fact that this is a book about Paris
+and the Parisians written wholly from the outside, and containing only
+so much of that city and its citizens as a foreigner who has no French
+friends may observe on holiday visits.
+
+I express elsewhere my indebtedness to a few French authors. I have
+also been greatly assisted in a variety of ways, but especially in the
+study of the older Paris streets, by my friend Mr. Frank Holford.
+
+     E. V. L.
+
+
+NOTE
+
+     Since this new edition was prepared for the press the
+     devastating theft of Leonardo da Vinci's "Monna Lisa" was
+     perpetrated. Pages 81-87 therefore--describing that picture
+     as one of the chief treasures of the Louvre--must change
+     their tense to the past.
+
+     E. V. L.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                             PAGE
+       CHAPTER I
+     THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS                                 1
+
+       CHAPTER II
+     THE ILE DE LA CITE                                         9
+
+       CHAPTER III
+     NOTRE DAME                                                31
+
+       CHAPTER IV
+     SAINT LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND                                54
+
+       CHAPTER V
+     THE MARAIS                                                61
+
+       CHAPTER VI
+     THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS                            78
+
+       CHAPTER VII
+     THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES AND OTHER
+       TREASURES                                               97
+
+       CHAPTER VIII
+     THE TUILERIES                                            114
+
+       CHAPTER IX
+     THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, THE CHAMPS
+       ELYSEES AND THE INVALIDES                              132
+
+       CHAPTER X
+     THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS
+       TRIBUTARIES                                            158
+
+       CHAPTER XI
+     THE LATIN QUARTER                                        170
+
+       CHAPTER XII
+     THE PANTHEON AND SAINTE GENEVIEVE                        188
+
+       CHAPTER XIII
+     TWO ZOOS                                                 199
+
+       CHAPTER XIV
+     THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE
+       MADELEINE TO THE OPERA                                 214
+
+       CHAPTER XV
+     A CHAIR AT THE CAFE DE LA PAIX                           227
+
+       CHAPTER XVI
+     THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE
+       PLACE DE LA REPUBLIQUE                                 244
+
+       CHAPTER XVII
+     MONTMARTRE                                               260
+
+       CHAPTER XVIII
+     THE ELYSEE TO THE HOTEL DE VILLE                         276
+
+       CHAPTER XIX
+     THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE                    299
+
+       CHAPTER XX
+     THE BASTILLE, PERE LACHAISE AND THE END                  306
+
+     INDEX                                                    321
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+IN COLOUR
+
+
+     THE RUE DE L'HOTEL DE VILLE                   _Frontispiece_
+
+     THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR            _To face page_ 6
+
+     THE ILE DE LA CITE FROM THE PONT DES ARTS          "      40
+
+     NOTRE DAME                                         "      58
+
+     THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L'ETOILE                    "      74
+
+     THE PARC MONCEAU                                   "     116
+
+     THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL                   "     124
+
+     THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE                           "     140
+
+     THE PONT ALEXANDRE III.                            "     160
+
+     THE FONTAINE DE MEDICIS                            "     180
+
+     THE MUSEE CLUNY                                    "     200
+
+     THE RUE DE BIEVRE                                  "     222
+
+     THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS                         "     240
+
+     THE PORTE ST. DENIS                                "     258
+
+     THE SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTRE FROM THE
+     BUTTES-CHAUMONT                                    "     280
+
+     THE PLACE DES VOSGES, SOUTHERN ENTRANCE            "     300
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE
+
+
+     MAP. From a Drawing by B. C. Boulter           _front Cover_
+
+     THE NATIVITY. Luini (louvre)               _to face page_ 16
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     GIOVANNA  TORNABUONI  AND  THE  CARDINAL
+     VIRTUES--Fresco from the Villa Lemmi.
+     Botticelli (Louvre)                               "       20
+
+     LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS. Leonardo da Vinci
+     (Louvre)                                          "       26
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JESUS.
+     Leonardo da Vinci. (Louvre)                       "       36
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA PENSEE. Rodin (Luxembourg)                     "       46
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE. Raphael (Louvre)           "       52
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     L'HOMME AU GANT. Titian (Louvre)                  "       64
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME. Attributed to Bigio
+     (Louvre)                                          "       70
+     From a Photograph by Alinari
+
+     THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE. (Louvre)        "       80
+     From a Photograph by Giraudon
+
+     LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA. Leonardo da Vinci
+     (Louvre)                                          "       86
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT D'UNE DAME ET SA FILLE. Van Dyck
+     (Louvre)                                          "       94
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     LE VALLON.  Corot (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection)                                       "      106
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LE PRINTEMPS. Rousseau (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection)                                       "      120
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT. Ghirlandaio (Louvre)       "      136
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     VENUS ET L'AMOUR. Rembrandt (Louvre)              "      146
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LES PELERINS D'EMMAUES. Rembrandt (Louvre)        "      154
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR. J. van Eyck (Louvre)       "      166
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     PORTRAIT DE SA MERE. Whistler (Luxembourg)        "      176
+
+     LA BOHEMIENNE. Franz Hals (Louvre)                "      186
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     STE. GENEVIEVE. Puvis de Chavannes (Pantheon)     "      190
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA LECON DE LECTURE. Terburg (Louvre)             "      206
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA DENTELLIERE. Vermeer of Delft (Louvre)         "      216
+     From a Photograph by Woodbury
+
+     GIRL'S HEAD. Ecole de Fabriano (Louvre)           "      228
+     From a Photograph by Mansell
+
+     LE BENEDICITE. Chardin (Louvre)                   "      234
+     From a Photograph by Giraudon
+
+     MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE. Madame Le Brun
+     (Louvre)                                          "      246
+     From a Photograph by Hanfstaengl
+
+     LE PONT DE MANTES. Corot
+     (Louvre, Moreau Collection)                       "      252
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA PROVENDE DES POULES.  Troyon (Louvre,
+     Thomy-Thierret Collection)                        "      266
+     From a Photograph by Alinari
+
+     THE WINDMILL. R. P. Bonington (Louvre)            "      274
+
+     L'AMATEUR D'ESTAMPES.  Daumier (Palais des
+     Beaux Arts)                                       "      286
+
+     LE BAISER. Rodin (Luxembourg)                     "      294
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+     LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS. Millet
+     (Louvre, Chauchard Collection)                    "      308
+
+     LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS. A. Bartholome (Pere
+     la Chaise)                                        "      316
+     From a Photograph by Neurdein
+
+
+
+
+A WANDERER IN PARIS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS
+
+     The Gare du Nord and Gare St. Lazare--The Singing
+     Cabman--"Vivent les femmes!"--Characteristic Paris--The Next
+     Morning--A Choice of Delights--The Compas d'Or--The World of
+     Dumas--The First Lunch--Voisin wins.
+
+
+Most travellers from London enter Paris in the evening, and I think
+they are wise. I wish it were possible again and again to enter Paris
+in the evening for the first time; but since it is not, let me hasten
+to say that the pleasure of re-entering Paris in the evening is one
+that custom has almost no power to stale. Every time that one emerges
+from the Gare du Nord or the Gare St. Lazare one is taken afresh by
+the variegated and vivid activity of it all--the myriad purposeful
+self-contained bustling people, all moving on their unknown errands
+exactly as they were moving when one was here last, no matter how long
+ago. For Paris never changes: that is one of her most precious
+secrets.
+
+The London which one had left seven or eight hours before was populous
+enough and busy enough, Heaven knows, but London's pulse is slow and
+fairly regular, and even at her gayest, even when greeting Royalty,
+she seems to be advising caution and a careful demeanour. But
+Paris--Paris smiles and Paris sings. There is an incredible vivacity
+in her atmosphere.
+
+Sings! This reminds me that on the first occasion that I entered
+Paris--in the evening, of course--my cabman sang. He sang all the way
+from the Gare du Nord to the Rue Caumartin. This seemed to me
+delightful and odd, although at first I felt in danger of attracting
+more attention than one likes; but as we proceeded down the Rue
+Lafayette--which nothing but song and the fact that it is the high
+road into Paris from England can render tolerable--I discovered that
+no one minded us. A singing cabman in London would bring out the Riot
+Act and the military; but here he was in the picture: no one threw at
+the jolly fellow any of the chilling deprecatory glances which are the
+birthright of every light-hearted eccentric in my own land. And so we
+proceeded to the hotel, often escaping collision by the breadth of a
+single hair, the driver singing all the way. What he sang I knew not;
+but I doubt if it was of battles long ago: rather, I should fancy, of
+very present love and mischief. But how fitting a first entry into
+Paris!
+
+An hour or so later--it was just twenty years ago, but I remember it
+so clearly--I observed written up in chalk in large emotional letters
+on a public wall the words "Vivent les femmes!" and they seemed to me
+also so odd--it seemed to me so funny that the sentiment should be
+recorded at all, since women were obviously going to live whatever
+happened--that I laughed aloud. But it was not less characteristic of
+Paris than the joyous baritone notes that had proceeded from beneath
+the white tall hat of my cocher. It was as natural for one Parisian to
+desire the continuance of his joy as a lover, even to expressing it in
+chalk in the street, as to another to beguile with lyrical snatches
+the tedium of cab-driving.
+
+I was among the Latin people, and, as I quickly began to discover, I
+was myself, for the first time, a foreigner. That is a discovery which
+one quickly makes in Paris.
+
+But I have not done yet with the joy of entering and re-entering Paris
+in the evening--after the long smooth journey across the marshes of
+Picardy or through the orchards of Normandy and the valley of the
+Seine--whichever way one travels. But whether one travels by Calais,
+Boulogne, Dieppe or Havre, whether one alights at the Gare du Nord or
+St. Lazare, once outside the station one is in Paris instantly: there
+is no debatable land between either of these termini and the city, as
+there is, for example, between the Gare de Lyons and the city. Paris
+washes up to the very platforms. A few steps and here are the foreign
+tables on the pavements and the foreign waiters, so brisk and clean,
+flitting among them; here are the vehicles meeting and passing on the
+wrong or foreign side, and beyond that, knowing apparently no law at
+all; here are the deep-voiced newsvendors shouting those magic words
+_La Patrie!_ _La Patrie!_ which, should a musician ever write a Paris
+symphony, would recur and recur continually beneath its surface
+harmonies. And here, everywhere, are the foreign people in their
+ordered haste and their countless numbers.
+
+The pleasure of entering and re-entering Paris in the evening is only
+equalled by the pleasure of stepping forth into the street the next
+morning in the sparkling Parisian air and smelling again the pungent
+Parisian scent and gathering in the foreign look of the place. I know
+of no such exuberance as one draws in with these first Parisian
+inhalations on a fine morning in May or June--and in Paris in May and
+June it is always fine, just as in Paris in January and February it is
+always cold or wet. His would be a very sluggish or disenchanted
+spirit who was not thus exhilarated; for here at his feet is the
+holiday city of Europe and the clean sun over all.
+
+And then comes the question "What to do?" Shall we go at once to
+"Monna Lisa"? But could there be a better morning for the children in
+the Champs-Elysees? That beautiful head in the His de la Salle
+collection--attributed to the school of Fabriano! How delightfully the
+sun must be lighting up the red walls of the Place des Vosges! Rodin's
+"Kiss" at the Luxembourg--we meant to go straight to that! The wheel
+window in Notre Dame, in the north transept--I have been thinking of
+that ever since we planned to come.
+
+So may others talk and act; but I have no hesitancies. My duty is
+clear as crystal. On the first morning I pay a visit of reverence and
+delight to the ancient auberge of the Compas d'Or at No. 64 Rue
+Montorgeuil. And this I shall always do until it is razed to the
+earth, as it seems likely to be under the gigantic scheme, beyond
+Haussmann almost, which is to renovate the most picturesque if the
+least sanitary portions of old Paris at a cost of over thirty millions
+of pounds. Unhappy day--may it be long postponed! For some years now I
+have always approached the Compas d'Or with trembling and foreboding.
+Can it still be there? I ask myself. Can that wonderful wooden hanger
+that covers half the courtyard have held so long? Will there be a
+motor-car among the old diligences and waggons? But it is always the
+same.
+
+From the street--and the Rue Montorgeuil is as a whole one of the most
+picturesque and characteristic of the older streets of Paris, with its
+high white houses, each containing fifty families, its narrowness, its
+barrows of fruit and green stuff by both pavements, and its crowds of
+people--from the street, the Compas d'Or is hardly noticeable, for a
+butcher and a cutler occupy most of its facade; but the sign and the
+old carvings over these shops give away the secret, and you pass
+through one of the narrow archways on either side and are straightway
+in a romance by the great Dumas. Into just such a courtyard would
+D'Artagnan have dashed, and leaping from one sweating steed leap on
+another and be off again amid a shower of sparks on the stones. Time
+has stood still here.
+
+There is no other such old inn left. The coach to Dreux--now probably
+a carrier's cart--still regularly runs from this spot, as it has done
+ever since the beginning of the sixteenth century. Rows of horses
+stand in its massive stables and fill the air with their warm and
+friendly scent; a score of ancient carts huddle in the yard, in a
+corner of which there will probably be a little group of women
+shelling peas; beneath the enormous hanger are more vehicles, and
+masses of hay on which the carters sleep. The ordinary noise of Paris
+gives way, in this sanctuary of antiquity, to the scraping of hoofs,
+the rattle of halter bolts, and the clatter of the wooden shoes of
+ostlers. It is the past in actual being--Civilisation, like Time, has
+stood still in the yard of the Compas d'Or. That is why I hasten to it
+so eagerly and shall always do so until it disappears for ever. There
+is nothing else in Paris like it.
+
+And after? Well, the next thing is to have lunch. And since this
+lunch--being the first--will be the best lunch of the holiday and
+therefore the best meal of the holiday (for every meal on a holiday in
+Paris is a little better than that which follows it), it is an
+enterprise not lightly to be undertaken. One must decide carefully,
+for this is to be an extravagance: the search for the little
+out-of-the-way restaurant will come later. To-day we are rich.
+
+  [Illustration: THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR, RUE MONTORGEUIL]
+
+This book is not a guide for the gastronome and gourmet. How indeed
+could it be, even although when heaven sends a cheerful hour one would
+scorn to refrain? Yet none the less it would be pleasant in this
+commentary upon a city illustrious for its culinary ingenuity and
+genius to say something of restaurants. But what is one to say here on
+such a theme? Volumes are needed. Every one has his own taste. For me
+Voisin's remains, and will, I imagine, remain the most distinguished,
+the most serene, restaurant in Paris, in its retired situation at the
+corner of the Rue Saint-Honore and the Rue Cambon, with its simple
+decoration, its unhastening order and despatch, its Napoleonic
+head-waiter, its Bacchic wine-waiter (with a head that calls for vine
+leaves) and its fastidious cuisine. To Voisin's I should always make
+my way when I wished not only to be delicately nourished but to be
+quiet and philosophic and retired. Only one other restaurant do I know
+where the cooking gives me the satisfaction of Voisin's--where
+excessive richness never intrudes--and that is a discovery of my own
+and not lightly to be given away. Voisin's is a name known all over
+the world: one can say nothing new about Voisin's; but the little
+restaurant with which I propose to tantalise you, although the resort
+of some of the most thoughtful eaters in Paris, has a reputation that
+has not spread. It is not cheap, it is little less dear indeed than
+the Cafe Anglais or Paillard's, to name the two restaurants of renown
+which are nearest to it; its cellar is poor and limited to half a
+dozen wines; its two rooms are minute and hot; but the idea of
+gastronomy reigns--everything is subordinated to the food and the
+cooking. If you order a trout, it is the best trout that France can
+breed, and it is swimming in the kitchen at the time the solitary
+waiter repeats your command; no such asparagus reaches any other Paris
+restaurant, no such Pre Sale and no such wild strawberries. But I have
+said enough; almost I fear I have said too much. These discoveries
+must be kept sacred.
+
+And for lunch to-day? Shall it be chez Voisin, or chez Foyot, by the
+Senat, or chez Laperouse (where the two Stevensons used to eat and
+talk) on the Quai des Augustins? Or shall it be at my nameless
+restaurant?
+
+Voisin's to-day, I think.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE ILE DE LA CITE
+
+     Paris Old and New--The Heart of France--Saint Louis--Old
+     Palaces--Henri IV.'s Statue--Ironical Changes--The Seine and
+     the Thames--The Quais and their Old Books--Diderot and the
+     Lady--Police and Red Tape--The Conciergerie--Marie
+     Antoinette--Paris and its Clocks--Meryon's Etchings--French
+     Advocates--A Hall of Babel--Sainte Chapelle--French
+     Newspapers Serious and Comic--The Only Joke--The English and
+     the French.
+
+
+Where to begin? That is a problem in the writing of every book, but
+peculiarly so with Paris; because, however one may try to be
+chronological, the city is such a blend of old and new that that
+design is frustrated at every turn. Nearly every building of
+importance stands on the site of some other which instantly jerks us
+back hundreds of years, while if we deal first with the original
+structure, such as the remains of the Roman Thermes at the Cluny,
+built about 300, straightway the Cluny itself intrudes, and we leap
+from the third century to the nineteenth; or if we trace the line of
+the wall of Philip Augustus we come swiftly to so modern an
+institution as the Mont-de-Piete; or if we climb to such a recent
+thoroughfare as the Boulevard de Clichy, with its palpitatingly novel
+cabarets and allurements, we must in order to do so ascend a mountain
+which takes its name from the martyrdom of St. Denis and his
+companions in the third century. It is therefore well, since Paris is
+such a tangle of past and present, to disregard order altogether and
+to let these pages reflect her character. Expect then, dear reader, to
+be twitched about the ages without mercy.
+
+Let us begin in earnest by leaving the mainland and adventuring upon
+an island. For the heart of Paris is enisled: Notre Dame, Sainte
+Chapelle, the Palais de Justice, the Hotel Dieu, the Prefecture de
+Police, the Morgue--all are entirely surrounded by water. The history
+of the Cite is the history of Paris, almost the history of France.
+
+Paris, the home of the Parisii, consisted of nothing but this island
+when Julius Caesar arrived there with his conquering host. The Romans
+built their palace here, and here Julian the Apostate loved to
+sojourn. It was in Julian's reign that the name was changed from
+Lutetia (which it is still called by picturesque writers) to Parisea
+Civitas, from which Paris is an easy derivative. The Cite remained the
+home of government when the Merovingians under Clovis expelled the
+Romans, and again under the Carlovingians. The second Royal Palace was
+begun by the first of the Capets, Hugh, in the tenth century, and it
+was completed by Robert the Pious in the eleventh. Louis VII. decreed
+Notre Dame; but it was Saint Louis, reigning from 1226 to 1270, who
+was the father of the Cite as we now know it. He it was who built
+Sainte Chapelle, and it was he who surrendered part of the Palace to
+the Law.
+
+While it was the home of the Court and the Church the island naturally
+had little enough room for ordinary residents, who therefore had to
+live, whether aristocrats or tradespeople, on the mainland, either on
+the north or south side of the river. The north side was for the most
+part given to merchants, the south to scholars, for Saint Louis was
+the builder not only of Sainte Chapelle but also of the Sorbonne. Very
+few of the smaller buildings of that time now remain: the oldest Paris
+that one now wanders in so delightedly, whether on the north bank or
+the south, whether near the Sorbonne or the Hotel de Sens, dates, with
+a few fortunate exceptions, from the fifteenth and sixteenth
+centuries.
+
+Nowhere may the growth of Paris be better observed and better
+understood than on the highest point on this Island of the City--on
+the summit of Notre Dame. Standing there you quickly comprehend the
+Paris of the ages: from Caesar's Lutetia, occupying the island only and
+surrounded by fields and wastes, to the Paris of this year of our
+Lord, spreading over the neighbouring hills, such a hive of human
+activity and energy as will hardly bear thinking of--a Paris which has
+thrown off the yoke not only of the kings that once were all-powerful
+but of the Church too.
+
+By the twelfth century the kings of France had begun to live in
+smaller palaces more to their personal taste, such as the Hotel
+Barbette, the Hotel de Sens (much of which still stands, as a glass
+factory, at the corner of the Rue de l'Hotel de Ville and the Rue de
+Figuier, one of the oldest of the Paris mansions), the Hotel de
+Bourgogne (in the Rue Etienne Marcel: you may still see its tower of
+Jean Sans Peur), the Hotel de Nevers (what remains of which is at the
+corner of the Rue Colbert and Rue Richelieu), and, of course, the
+Louvre. Charles VII. (1422-1461) was the first king to settle at the
+Louvre permanently.
+
+To gain the Ile de la Cite we leave the mainland of Paris at the Quai
+du Louvre, and make our crossing by the Pont Neuf. Neuf no longer, for
+as a matter of historical fact it is now the oldest of all the Paris
+bridges: that is, in its foundations, for the visible part of it has
+been renovated quite recently. The first stone of it was laid by Henri
+III. in 1578: it was not ready for many years, but in 1603 Henri IV.
+(of Navarre) ventured across a plank of it on his way to the Louvre,
+after several previous adventurers had broken their necks in the
+attempt. "So much the less kings they," was his comment. He lived to
+see the bridge finished.
+
+Behind the statue of this monarch, whom the French still adore, is the
+garden that finishes off the west end of the Ile very prettily,
+sending its branches up above the parapet. Here we may stop; for we
+are now on the Island itself, midway between the two halves of the
+bridge, and the statue has such a curious history, so typical of the
+French character, that I should like to tell it. The original bronze
+figure, erected by Louis XIII. in 1614, was taken down in 1792, a
+time of stress, and melted into a commodity that was then of vastly
+greater importance than the effigies of kings--namely cannon. (As we
+shall see in the course of this book, Paris left the hands of the
+Revolutionaries a totally different city from the Paris of 1791.) Then
+came peace again, and then came Napoleon, and in the collection at
+the Archives is to be seen a letter written by the Emperor from
+Schoenbrunn, on August 15th, 1809, stating that he wishes an obelisk
+to be erected on the site of the Henri IV. statue--an obelisk of
+Cherbourg granite, 180 pieds d'elevation, with the inscription
+"l'Empereur Napoleon au Peuple Francais". That, however, was not done.
+
+Time passed on, Napoleon fell, and Louis XVIII. returned from his
+English home to the throne of France, and was not long in perpetrating
+one of those symmetrical ironical jests which were then in vogue.
+Taking from the Vendome column the bronze statue of Napoleon (who was
+safely under the thumb of Sir Hudson Lowe at St. Helena, well out of
+mischief), and to this adding a second bronze statue of the same
+usurper intended for some other site, the monarch directed that they
+should be melted into liquid from which a new statue of Henri IV.--the
+very one at which we are at this moment gazing--should be cast. It was
+done, and though to the Roentgen-rayed vision of the cynic it may
+appear to be nothing more or less than a double Napoleon, it is to
+the world at large Henri IV., the hero of Ivry.
+
+I have seen comparisons between the Seine and the Thames; but they are
+pointless. You cannot compare them: one is a London river, and the
+other is a Paris river. The Seine is a river of light; the Thames is a
+river of twilight. The Seine is gay; the Thames is sombre. When dusk
+falls in Paris the Seine is just a river in the evening; when dusk
+falls in London the Thames becomes a wonderful mystery, an enchanted
+stream in a land of old romance. The Thames is, I think, vastly more
+beautiful; but on the other hand, the Thames has no merry passenger
+steamers and no storied quais. The Seine has all the advantage when we
+come to the consideration of what can be done with a river's banks in
+a great city. For the Seine has a mile of old book and curiosity
+stalls, whereas the Thames has nothing.
+
+And yet the coping of the Thames embankment is as suitable for such a
+purpose as that of the Seine, and as many Londoners are fond of books.
+How is it? Why should all the bookstalls and curiosity stalls of
+London be in Whitechapel and Farringdon Street and the Cattle Market?
+That is a mystery which I have never solved and never shall. Why are
+the West Central and the West districts wholly debarred--save in
+Charing Cross Road, and that I believe is suspect--from loitering at
+such alluring street banquets? It is beyond understanding.
+
+The history of the stall-holders of the quais has been told very
+engagingly by M. Octave Uzanne, whom one might describe as the Austin
+Dobson and the Augustine Birrell of France, in his work _Bouquinistes
+et Bouquineurs_. They established themselves first on the Pont Neuf,
+but in 1650 were evicted. (The Paris bridges, I might say here, become
+at the present time the resort of every kind of pedlar directly
+anything occurs to suspend their traffic.)
+
+The parapets of the quais then took the place of those of the bridge,
+and there the booksellers' cases have been ever since. But no longer
+are they the gay resort that once they were. It was considered, says
+M. Uzanne, writing of the eighteenth century, "quite the correct thing
+for the promenaders to gossip round the bookstalls and discuss the wit
+and fashionable writings of the day. At all hours of the day these
+quarters were much frequented, above all by literary men, lawyers
+clerks and foreigners. One historical fact, not generally known,
+merits our attention, for it shows that not only the libraries and the
+stall-keepers assisted in drawing men of letters to the vicinity of
+the Hotel Mazarin, but there also existed a 'rendez-vous' for the sale
+of English and French journals. It was, in fact, at the corner of the
+Rue Dauphine and the Quai Conti that the first establishment known as
+the Cafe Anglais was started. One read in big letters on the
+signboard: Cafe Anglais--Becket, proprietaire. This was the meeting
+place of the greater part of English writers visiting Paris who
+wished to become acquainted with the literary men of the period, the
+encyclopaedists and poets of the Court of Louis XV. This Cafe offered
+to its habitues the best-known English papers of the day, the
+_Westminster Gazette_, the _London Evening Post_, the _Daily
+Advertiser_, and the various pamphlets published on the other side of
+the Channel....
+
+"You must know that the Quai Conti up to the year 1769 was only a
+narrow passage leading down to a place for watering horses. Between
+the Pont Neuf and the building known as the Chateau-Gaillard at the
+opening of the Rue Guenegaud, were several small shops, and a small
+fair continually going on.
+
+"This Chateau-Gaillard, which was a dependency of the old Porte de
+Nesle, had been granted by Francis I. to Benvenuto Cellini. The famous
+Florentine goldsmith received visits from the Sovereign protector of
+arts and here executed the work he had been ordered to do, under his
+Majesty's very eyes....
+
+"One calls to mind that Sterne, in his delightful _Sentimental
+Journey_, was set down in 1767 at the Hotel de Modene, in the Rue
+Jacob, opposite the Rue des Deux-Anges, and one has not forgotten his
+love for the quais and the adventure which befell him while chatting
+to a bookseller on the Quai Conti, of whom he wished to buy a copy of
+Shakespeare so that he might read once more Polonius' advice to his
+son before starting on his travels.
+
+"Diderot, in his _Salon_ of 1761, relates his flirtation with the
+pretty girl who served in one of these shops and afterwards became
+the wife of Menze. 'She called herself Miss Babuti and kept a small
+book shop on the Quai des Augustins, spruce and upright, white as a
+lily and red as a rose. I would enter her shop, in my own brisk way:
+"Mademoiselle, the 'Contes de la Fontaine' ... a 'Petronius' if you
+please."--"Here you are, Sir. Do you want any other books?"--"Forgive
+me, yes"--"What is it?"--"La 'Religieuse en Chemise.'"--"For shame,
+Sir! Do you read such trash?"--"Trash, is it, Mademoiselle? I did not
+know...."'"
+
+  [Illustration: THE NATIVITY
+    LUINI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+M. Uzanne's pages are filled with such charming gossip and with
+character-sketches of the most famous booksellers and book-hunters.
+One pretty trait that would have pleased Mary Lamb (and perhaps did,
+in 1822, when her brother took her to the "Boro' side of the Seine")
+is mentioned by M. Uzanne: "The stall-keeper on the quais always has
+an indulgent eye for the errand boy or the little bonne [slavey] who
+stops in front of his stall and consults gratis 'La Clef des Songes'
+or 'Le Secretaire des Dames'. Who would not commend him for this kind
+toleration? In fact it is very rare to find the bookseller in such
+cases not shutting his eyes--metaphorically--and refraining from
+walking up to the reader, for fear of frightening her away. And then
+the young girl moves off with a light step, repeating to herself the
+style of letter or the explanation of a dream, rich in hope and
+illusions for the rest of the day."
+
+But the best description of the book-hunter of the quais is that
+given to Dumas by Charles Nodier. "This animal," he said, "has two
+legs and is featherless, wanders usually up and down the quais and the
+boulevards, stopping at all the old bookstalls, turning over every
+book on them; he is habitually clad in a coat that is too long for him
+and trousers that are too short; he always wears on his feet shoes
+that are down at the heel, a dirty hat on his head, and, under his
+coat and over his trousers, a waistcoat fastened together with string.
+One of the signs by which he can be recognised is that he never washes
+his hands."
+
+Henri IV.'s statue faces the Place Dauphine and the west facade of the
+Palais de Justice. At No. 28 in the Place Dauphine Madame Roland was
+born, little thinking she was destined one day to be imprisoned in the
+neighbouring Conciergerie, which, to those who can face the
+difficulties of obtaining a ticket of admission, is one of the most
+interesting of the Island's many interesting buildings. But the
+process is not easy, and there is only one day in the week on which
+the prison is shown.
+
+The tickets are issued at the Prefecture of Police--the Scotland Yard
+of Paris--which is the large building opposite Sainte Chapelle. One
+may either write or call. I advise writing; for calling is not as
+simple as it sounds: simplicity and sightseeing in Paris being indeed
+not on the best terms. It was not until I had asked five several
+officials that I found even the right door of the vast structure, and
+then having passed a room full of agents (or policemen) smoking and
+jesting, and having climbed to a third storey, I was in danger of
+losing for ever the privilege of seeing what I had fixed my mind upon,
+wholly because, although I knew the name and street of my hotel, I did
+not know its number. Who ever dreamed that hotels have numbers? Has
+the Savoy a number in the Strand? Is the Ritz numbered in Piccadilly?
+Not that I was living in any such splendour, but still, on the face of
+it, a hotel has a name because it has no number. "C'est egal," the
+gentleman said at last, after a pantomime of impossibility and
+reproach, and I took my ticket, bowed to the ground, replaced my hat
+and was free to visit the Conciergerie on the morrow. Such are the
+amenities of the tourist's life.
+
+Let me here say that the agents of Paris are by far its politest
+citizens, and in appearance the healthiest. I have never met an
+uncivil agent, and I once met one who refused a tip after he had been
+of considerable service to me. Never did I attempt to tip another.
+They have their defects, no doubt: they have not the authority that we
+give our police: their management of traffic is pathetically
+incompetent; but they are street gentlemen and the foreigner has no
+better friend.
+
+The Conciergerie is the building on the Quai de l'Horloge with the
+circular towers beneath extinguishers--an impressive sight from the
+bridges and the other bank of the river. Most of its cells are now
+used as rooms for soldiers (Andre Chenier's dungeon is one of their
+kitchens); but a few rooms of the deepest historical interest have
+been left as they were. These are displayed by a listless guide who
+rises to animation only when the time comes to receive his benefice
+and offer for sale a history of his preserves.
+
+One sees first the vaulted Salle Saint Louis, called the Salle des Pas
+Perdus because it was through it that the victims of the Revolution
+walked on their way to the Cour de Mai and execution. The terribly
+significant name has since passed to the great lobby of the Palais de
+Justice immediately above it, where it has less appropriateness. It is
+of course the cell of Marie Antoinette that is the most poignant spot
+in this grievous place. When the Queen was here the present room was
+only about half its size, having a partition across it, behind which
+two soldiers were continually on guard, day and night. The Queen was
+kept here, suffering every kind of indignity and petty tyranny, from
+early September, 1793, until October 16th. Her chair, in which she sat
+most of the time, faced the window of the courtyard.
+
+A few acts of kindness reached her in spite of the vigilance of the
+authorities; but very few. I quote the account of two from the
+official guide, a poor thing, which I was weak enough to buy: "The
+Queen had no complaint to make against the concierges Richard nor
+their successors the Baults. It is told that one day Richard asked a
+fruitseller in the neighbourhood to select him the best of her melons,
+whatever it might cost. 'It is for a very important personage,
+then?' said the seller disdainfully, looking at the concierge's
+threadbare clothes. 'Yes,' said he, 'it is for some one who was once
+very important; she is so no longer; it is for the Queen.' 'The
+Queen,' exclaimed the tradeswoman, turning over all her melons, 'the
+Queen! Oh, poor woman! Here, make her eat that, and I won't have you
+pay for it....'
+
+"One of the gendarmes on duty having smoked during the night, learnt
+the following day that the Queen, whom he noticed was very pale, had
+suffered from the smell of the tobacco; he smashed his pipe, swearing
+not to smoke any more. It was he also who said to those who came in
+contact with Marie Antoinette: 'Whatever you do, don't say anything to
+her about her children'."
+
+For her trial the Queen was taken to the Tribunal sitting in what is
+now the First Circle Chamber of the Palais de Justice, and led back in
+the evening to her cell. She was condemned to death on the fifteenth,
+and that night wrote a letter to her sister-in-law Elizabeth which we
+shall see in the Archives Nationales: it is firmly written.
+
+  [Illustration: GIOVANNA TORNABUONI AND THE CARDINAL VIRTUES
+    BOTTICELLI. FRESCO FROM THE VILLA LEMMI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+The Conciergerie had many other prisoners, but none so illustrious.
+Robespierre occupied for twenty-four hours the little cell adjoining
+that of the Queen, now the vestry of the chapel. Madame Du Barry and
+Madame Recamier had cells adjacent to that of Madame Roland. Later
+Marechal Ney was imprisoned here. The oldest part of all--the kitchens
+of Saint Louis--are not shown.
+
+The Pont au Change, the bridge which connects the Place du Chatelet
+with the Boulevard du Palais, the main street of the Ile de la Cite,
+was once (as the Ponte Vecchio at Florence still is) the headquarters
+of goldsmiths and small bankers. Not the least of the losses that
+civilisation and rebuilders have brought upon us is the disappearance
+of the shops and houses from the bridges. Old London Bridge--how one
+regrets that!
+
+At the corner of the Conciergerie is the Horloge that gives the Quai
+its name--a floridly decorated clock which by no means conveys the
+impression that it has kept time for over five hundred years and is
+the oldest exposed time-piece in France. Paris, by the way, is very
+poor in public clocks, and those that she has are not too trustworthy.
+The one over the Gare St. Lazare has perhaps the best reputation; but
+time in Paris is not of any great importance. For most Parisians there
+is an inner clock which strikes with perfect regularity at about
+twelve and seven, and no other hours really matter. And yet a certain
+show of marking time is made in the hotels, where every room has an
+elaborate ormolu clock, usually under a glass case and rarely going.
+And in one hotel I remember a large clock on every landing, of which I
+passed three on my way upstairs; and their testimony was so various
+that it was two hours later by each, so that by the time I had reached
+my room it was nearly time to get up. On asking the waiter the reason
+he said it was because they were synchronised by electricity.
+
+There has been a Tour de l'Horloge at this corner of the Conciergerie
+ever since it was ordained by Philippe le Bel in 1299; the present
+clock, or at least its scheme of decoration, dates, however, from
+Henri III.'s reign, about 1585. The last elaborate restoration was in
+1852. In the tower above was a bell that was rung only on rare
+occasions. The usual accounts of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew say
+that the signal for that outrage was sounded by the bell of St.
+Germain l'Auxerrois; but others give it to the bell of the Tour de
+l'Horloge. As they are some distance from each other, perhaps both
+were concerned; but since St. Germain l'Auxerrois is close to the
+Louvre, where the King was waiting for the carnage to begin, it is
+probable that it rang the first notes.
+
+One of Meryon's most impressive and powerful etchings represents the
+Tour de l'Horloge and the facade of the Conciergerie. It is a typical
+example of his strange and gloomy genius, for while it is nothing else
+in the world but what it purports to be, it is also quite unlike the
+Tour de l'Horloge and the facade of the Conciergerie as any ordinary
+eyes have seen them. They are made terrible and sinister: they have
+been passed through the dark crucible of Meryon's mind. To see Paris
+as Meryon saw it needs a great effort of imagination, so swiftly and
+instinctively do these people remove the traces of unhappiness or
+disaster. It is the nature of Paris to smile and to forget; from any
+lapse into woe she recovers with extraordinary rapidity.
+
+Meryon's Paris glowers and shudders; there is blood on her hands and
+guilt in her heart. I will not say that his concept is untrue, because
+I believe that the concept formed by a man of genius is always true,
+although it may not contain all the truth, and indeed one has to
+recall very little history to fall easily into Meryon's mood; but for
+the visitor who has chosen Paris for his holiday--the typical reader,
+for example, of this book--Mr. Dexter's concept of Paris is a more
+natural one. (I wish, by the way, before it is too late, that Mr.
+Muirhead Bone would devote some time to the older parts of the
+city--particularly to the Marais. How it lies to his hand!)
+
+Since we are at the gates of the Palais de Justice let us spend a
+little time among the advocates and their clients in the great
+hall--the Salle des Pas Perdus. (In an interesting work, by the way,
+on this building, with a preface by the younger Dumas, the amendment,
+"La Salle du temps perdu" is recommended.) The French law courts, as a
+whole, are little different from our own: they have the same
+stuffiness, they give the same impression of being divided between the
+initiated and the uninitiated, the little secret society of the Bar
+and the great innocent world. But the Salle des Pas Perdus is another
+thing altogether. There is nothing like that in the Strand. Our Strand
+counsel are a dignified, clean-shaven, be-wigged race, striving to
+appear old and inscrutable and important. They are careful of
+appearances; they receive instructions only through solicitors; they
+affect to weigh their words; sagacious reserve is their fetish. Hence
+our law courts, although there are many consultations and incessant
+passings to and fro, are yet subdued in tone and overawing to the
+talkative.
+
+But the Palais de Justice!--Babel was inaudible beside it. In the
+Palais de Justice everyone talks at once; no one cares a sou for
+appearances or reticence; there are no wigs, no shorn lips, no
+affectation of a superhuman knowledge of the world. The French
+advocate comes into direct communication with his client--for the most
+part here. The movement as well as the vociferation is incessant, for
+out of this great hall open as many doors as there are in a French
+farce, and every door is continually swinging. Indeed that is the
+chief effect conveyed: that one is watching a farce, since there has
+never been a farce yet without a legal gentleman in his robes and
+black velvet cap. The chief difference is that here there are hundreds
+of them. As a final touch of humour, or lack of gravity, I may add
+that notices forbidding smoking are numerous, and every advocate and
+every client is puffing hard at his cigarette.
+
+Victor Hugo's _Notre Dame_ begins, it will be remembered, in the great
+Hall of the Palais de Justice, where Gringoire's neglected mystery
+play was performed and Quasimodo won the prize for ugliness. The Hall,
+as Hugo says, was burned in 1618: by a fire which, he tells us, was
+made necessary by the presence in the archives of the Palais of the
+documents in the case of the assassination of Henri IV. by Ravaillac.
+Certain of Ravaillac's accomplices and instigators wishing these
+papers to disappear, the fire followed as a matter of course, as
+naturally as in China a house had to be burned down before there could
+be roast pig.
+
+Sainte Chapelle, which, with the kitchens of Saint Louis under the
+Conciergerie, is all that remains of the royal period of the Palais de
+Justice, is, except on Mondays, always open during the reasonable
+daylight hours and is wholly free from vexatious restrictions.
+Sanctity having passed from it, the French sightseers do not even
+remove their hats, although I have noticed that the English and
+Americans still find the habit too strong. The Chapelle may easily
+disappoint, for such is the dimness of its religious light that little
+is visible save the dark coloured windows. One is, however, conscious
+of perfect proportions and such ecclesiastical elegance as paint and
+gold can convey. It is in fact exquisite, yet not with an
+exquisiteness of simplicity but of design and elaboration. It is like
+a jewel--almost a trinket--which Notre Dame might have once worn on
+her breast and tired of. Its fleche is really beautiful; it darts into
+the sky with only less assurance and joy than that of Notre Dame, and
+I always look up with pleasure to the angel on the eastern point of
+the roof.
+
+  [Illustration: LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+What one has the greatest difficulty in believing is that Sainte
+Chapelle is six hundred and fifty years old. It was built for the
+relics brought from the Crusades by Saint Louis, which are now in the
+Treasury of Notre Dame. The Chapel has, of course, known the
+restorer's hand, but it is virtually the original structure, and some
+of the original glass is still here preserved amid reconstructions. To
+me Sainte Chapelle's glass makes little appeal; but many of my friends
+talk of nothing else. Let us thank God for differences of taste.
+During the Commune (as recently as 1871) an attempt was made to burn
+Sainte Chapelle, together with the Palais de Justice, but it just
+failed. That was the third fire it has survived.
+
+From Sainte Chapelle we pass through the Rue de Lutece, which is
+opposite, across the Boulevard, because there is a statue here of some
+interest--that of Renaudot, who lived in the first half of the
+seventeenth century at No. 8 Quai du Marche Neuf, close by, and
+founded in 1631 the first French newspaper, the _Gazette de France_.
+Little could he have foreseen the consequences of his rash act! It is
+amusing to stand here a while and meditate on the torrent that has
+proceeded from that small spring. Other cities have as busy a
+journalistic life as Paris, and in London the paper boys are more
+numerous and insistent, while in London we have also the contents'
+bills, which are unknown to France; and yet Paris seems to me to be
+more a city of newspapers than even London is. Perhaps it is the
+kiosques that convey the impression.
+
+The London papers and the Paris papers could not well be more
+different. In the matter of size, Paris, I think, has all the
+advantage, for one may read everything in a few minutes; but in the
+matter of ingredients the advantage surely lies with us, for although
+English papers tell far too much, and by their own over-curiousness
+foster inquisitiveness and busy-bodydom, yet they have some sense of
+what is important, and one can always find the significant news. In
+Paris, if one excepts the best papers, the _Temps_ in particular, the
+significant news is elusive. What one will find, however, is a short
+story or a literary essay written with distinction, an anecdote of the
+day by no means adapted for the young person, and a number of trumpery
+tragedies of passion or excess, minutely told; and in the _Figaro_
+once or twice a week an excellent humorous or satirical drawing. The
+signed articles are always good, and when critical usually fearless,
+but the unsigned notices of a new play or spectacle credit it with
+perfection in every detail; and here, at any rate, as in our best
+reviews of books, we are in a position to feel some of the
+satisfaction that proceeds from conscious superiority.
+
+But, it has to be remembered, in Paris people go to the theatre
+automatically, whereas we pick and choose and have our reasons, and
+even talk of one play being moral and another immoral, and therefore
+in Paris an honest criticism of a play is of little importance. The
+Paris _Daily Mail_ seems to have fallen into line very naturally, for
+I find in it, on the morning on which I write these lines, a puff of
+the Capucines revue, saying that it kept the house in continuous
+laughter by its innocent fun, and will doubtless draw all Paris. As if
+(i) the laughter in any Paris theatre was ever continuous, and as if
+(ii) there was ever any innocent fun at the Capucines, and as if (iii)
+all Paris would go near that theatre if there were!
+
+One reason, I imagine, for the diffuseness of the English paper and
+the brevity of the French, is that the English have so little natural
+conversation that they find it useful to acquire news on which to base
+more; while the French need no such assistance. The English again are
+interested in other nations, whereas the French care nothing for any
+land but France. There is no space in which to continue this not
+untempting analysis: it would require much room, for to understand
+thoroughly the difference between, say, the _Daily Telegraph_ and the
+_Journal_ is to understand the difference between England and France.
+
+The French comic papers one sees everywhere--except in people's hands.
+I suppose they are bought, or they would not be published; but I have
+hardly ever observed a Frenchman reading one that was his own
+property. The fault of the French comic paper is monotony. Voltaire
+accused the English of having seventy religions and only one sauce; my
+quarrel with the French is that they have seventy sauces and only one
+joke. This joke you meet everywhere. Artists of diabolical cleverness
+illustrate it in colours every week; versifiers and musicians
+introduce it into songs; comic singers sing it; playwrights dramatise
+it; novelists and journalists weave it into prose. It is the oldest
+joke and it is ever new. Nothing can prevent a Parisian laughing at it
+as if it were as fresh as his roll, his journal or his petit Gervais.
+For a people with a world-wide reputation for wit, this is very
+strange; but in some directions the French are incorrigibly juvenile,
+almost infantine. Personally I envy them for it. I think it must be
+charming never to grow out of such an affection for indecency that
+even a nursery mishap can still be always funny.
+
+One of the comic papers must, however, be exempted from these
+generalisations. _Le Rire_, _Le Journal Amusant_, _La Vie Parisienne_
+and the scores of cheaper imitations may depend for their living on
+the one joke; but _L'Assiette au Beurre_ is more serious. _L'Assiette
+au Beurre_ is first and foremost a satirist. It chastises continually,
+and its whip is often scorpions. Even its lighter numbers, chiefly
+given to ridicule, contain streaks of savagery.
+
+At the end of the brief Rue de Lutece is the great Hotel Dieu, the
+oldest hospital in Paris, having been founded in the seventh century;
+and to the left of it is one of the Paris flower markets, where much
+beautiful colour may be seen very formally and unintelligently
+arranged. Gardens are among those things that we order (or shall I say
+disorder?) better than the French do.
+
+And now we will enter Notre Dame.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+NOTRE DAME
+
+     Pagan Origins and Christian Predecessors--The Beginnings of
+     Notre Dame--Victor Hugo--The Dangers of Renovation--Old
+     Glass and New--A Wedding--The Cathedral's Great Moment--The
+     Hundred Poor Girls and Louis XVI.--The Revolution--Mrs.
+     Momoro, Goddess of Reason--The Legend of Our Lady of the
+     Bird--Coronation of Napoleon--The Communards and the
+     Students--The Treasures of the Sacristy--Three Hundred and
+     Ninety-seven Steps--Quasimodo and Esmeralda--Paris at our
+     Feet--The Eiffel Tower--The Devils of Notre Dame--The
+     Precincts--Notre Dame from the Quai.
+
+
+If the Ile de la Cite is the eye of Paris, then, to adapt one of
+Oliver Wendell Holmes' metaphors, Notre Dame is its pupil. It stands
+on ground that has been holy, or at least religious, for many
+centuries, for part of its site was once occupied by the original
+mother church of Paris, St. Etienne, built in the fourth century; and
+close by, in the Place du Parvis, have been discovered the foundations
+of another church, dating from the sixth century, dedicated to Sainte
+Marie; while beneath that are the remains of a Temple of Apollo or
+Jupiter, relics of which we shall see at the Cluny. The origin of
+Notre Dame, the fusion of these two churches, is wrapped in darkness;
+but Victor Hugo roundly states that the first stone of it was laid by
+Charlemagne (who reigned from 768 to 814, and whose noble equestrian
+statue stands just outside), and the last by Philip Augustus, who was
+a friend of our Richard Coeur de Lion. The more usual account of the
+older parts of the Notre Dame that one sees to-day is that the first
+stone of it was laid in 1163, in the reign of Louis VII., by Pope
+Alexander III., who chanced then to be in Paris engaged in the task of
+avoiding his enemies, the Ghibellines, and that in almost exactly a
+hundred years, in the reign of Saint Louis, it was completed. (I say
+completed, but as a matter of fact it is not completed even yet, for
+each of the square towers was designed to carry a spire, and I
+remember seeing at the Paris Exhibition of 1889 a number of drawings
+of the cathedral by young architects, with these spires added. It is,
+however, very unlikely that they will ever sprout, and I, for one,
+hope not.)
+
+Victor Hugo is, of course, if not the first authority on Notre Dame,
+its most sympathetic poet, lover and eulogist; and it seems ridiculous
+for me to attempt description when every book shop in Paris has a copy
+of his rich and fantastic romance, Book III. of which is an interlude
+in the story wholly given to the glory of the cathedral. You may read
+there not only of what Notre Dame is, but of what it is not and should
+be: the shortcomings of architects and the vandalism of mobs are alike
+reported. Mobs! Paris is seared with cicatrices from the hands of her
+matricidal children, and Notre Dame especially so. Attempts to set
+her on fire were made not only by the revolutionaries but by the
+Communards too. These she resisted, but much of her statuary went
+during the Revolution, the assailants sparing the Last Judgment on the
+facade, but accounting very swiftly for a series of kings of Israel
+and Judah (who, however, have since been replaced) under the
+impression that they were monarchs of native growth and therefore not
+to be endured.
+
+The statue of the Virgin in the centre of the facade, with Adam and
+Eve on each side, is not, I may say, the true Notre Dame of Paris: She
+is within the church--much older and simpler, on a column to the right
+of the altar as we face it. She is a sweeter and more winning figure
+than that between our first parents on the facade.
+
+When I first knew Notre Dame it was, to the visitor from the open air,
+all scented darkness. And then as one grew accustomed to the gloom the
+cathedral opened slowly like a great flower--not so beautifully as
+Chartres, but with its own grandeur and fascination. That was twenty
+years ago. It is not the same since it has been scraped and lightened
+within. That old clinging darkness has gone. There are times of day
+now, when the sun spatters on the wall, when it might be almost any
+church; but towards evening in the gloom it is Notre Dame de Paris
+again, mysterious and a little sinister. A bright light not only
+chases the shade from its aisles and recesses but also shows up the
+garishness of its glass. For the glass of France, usually bad, is
+here often almost at its worst. That glorious wheel window in the
+north transept--whose upper wall has indeed more glass than stone in
+it--could not well be more beautiful, and the rose window over the
+organ is beautiful too. But for the rest, the glass is either too
+pretty, as in the case of the window over the altar, so lovely in
+shape, or utterly trumpery.
+
+The last time I was in Notre Dame I followed a wedding party through
+the main and usually locked door, but although I was the first after
+the bride and her father, I was not quick enough to set foot on the
+ceremonial carpet, which a prudent verger rolled up literally upon
+their heels. It was a fortunate moment on which to arrive, for it
+meant a vista of the nave from the open air right up the central
+aisle, and that, except in very hot weather, is rare, and probably
+very rare indeed when the altar is fully lighted.
+
+The secret of Notre Dame, both within and without, is to be divined
+only by loitering in it with a mind at rest. To enter intent upon
+seeing it is useless. Outside, one can walk round it for ever and
+still be surprised by the splendid vagaries, humours and resource of
+its stone; while within, one can, by making oneself plastic, gradually
+but surely attain to some of the adoration that was felt for this
+sanctuary by Quasimodo himself. Let us sit down on one of these chairs
+in the gloom and meditate on some of the scenes which its stones have
+witnessed.
+
+While it was yet building Raymond VII., Count of Toulouse, was
+scourged before the principal doorway for heresy, on a spot where the
+pillory long stood. That was in 1229. In 1248 St. Louis, on his way to
+the Holy Land, visited Notre Dame to receive his pilgrim's staff and
+scrip from the Bishop. In 1270 the body of St. Louis lay in state
+under this roof before it was carried to St. Denis for burial. Henry
+VI. of England was crowned here as King of France--the first and last
+English king to receive that honour. One Sunday in 1490, while Mass
+was being celebrated, a man called Jean l'Anglais (as we should now
+say, John Bull) snatched the Host from the priest's hand and profaned
+it: for which crime he was burnt. In 1572 Henri IV. (then Henri of
+Navarre) was married to Marguerite de Valois, but being a Protestant
+he was not allowed within the church, and the ceremony was therefore
+performed just outside. When, however, he entered Paris triumphantly
+as a conqueror and a Catholic in 1594, he heard Mass and assisted at
+the Te Deum in Notre Dame like a true Frenchman and ironist. In 1611
+his funeral service was celebrated here.
+
+Some very ugly events are in store for us; let something pretty
+intervene. On February 9th, 1779 (in the narrative of Louise de
+Grandpre, to whom the study of Notre Dame has been a veritable
+passion), a large crowd pressed towards the cathedral; the ground was
+strewed with fresh grass and flowers and leaves; the pillars were
+decorated with many coloured banners. In the choir the vestments of
+the saints were displayed: the burning tapers lit up the interior
+with a dazzling brightness: the organ filled the church with joyful
+harmony, and the bells rang out with all their might. The whole court
+was present, the King himself assisting at the ceremony, and the
+galleries were full to overflowing of ladies of distinction in the
+gayest of dresses.
+
+Then slowly, through the door of St. Anne, entered a hundred young
+girls dressed in white, covered with long veils and with orange
+blossom on their heads. These were the hundred poor girls whom Louis
+XVI. had dowered in memory of the birth of Marie-Therese-Charlotte of
+France, afterwards Duchess of Angouleme, and it was his wish to assist
+personally at their wedding and to seal their marriage licences with
+his sword, which was ornamented on the handle or pommel with the
+"fleur de lys".
+
+Through the door of the Virgin entered at the same time one hundred
+young men, having each a sprig of orange blossom in his button-hole.
+The two rows advanced together with measured steps, preceded by two
+Swiss, who struck the pavement heavily with their halberds. They
+advanced as far as the chancel rails, where each young man gave his
+hand to a young girl, his fiancee, and marched slowly before the King,
+bowing to him and receiving a bow in return. They were then married by
+the Archbishop in person.
+
+A very charming incident, don't you think? Such a royal gift, adds
+Louise de Grandpre, would be very welcome to-day, when there are so
+many girls unmarried, for the want of a dot. Every rich young girl
+who is married ought to include in her corbeille de noces the dot of
+some poor girl. All women, remarks Louise de Grandpre, have a right to
+this element of love, which is sanctified by marriage, honoured by men
+and blessed by God. Christian marriage, says Louise de Grandpre, is a
+nursery not only of good Catholics but still more of good citizens. It
+is much to be wished, she concludes, that obstacles could be removed,
+because one deplores the depopulation of France.
+
+  [Illustration: SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JESUS
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+The most fantastic and discreditable episode in the history of Notre
+Dame occurred one hundred and fifteen years ago, when the Convention
+decreed the Cult of Reason, and Notre Dame became its Temple. A ballet
+dancer was throned on the high altar, Our Lady of Paris was taken
+down, and statues of Voltaire and Rousseau stepped into the niches of
+the saints. Carlyle was never more wonderful than in the three or four
+pages that describe this cataclysm. He begins with the revolt of the
+Curate Parens, followed by Bishop Gobel of Paris clamouring for an
+honest calling since there was no religion but Liberty.
+
+"The French nation," Carlyle writes, "is of gregarious imitative
+nature; it needed but a fugle-motion in this matter; and Goose Gobel,
+driven by Municipality and force of circumstances, has given one. What
+Cure will be behind him of Boissise; what Bishop behind him of Paris?
+Bishop Gregoire, indeed, courageously declines; to the sound of 'We
+force no one; let Gregoire consult his conscience'; but Protestant
+and Romish by the hundred volunteer and assent. From far and near, all
+through November into December, till the work is accomplished, come
+letters of renegation, come Curates who 'are learning to be
+Carpenters,' Curates with their new-wedded Nuns: has not the day of
+Reason dawned, very swiftly, and become noon? From sequestered
+Townships come Addresses, stating plainly, though in Patois dialect,
+that 'they will have no more to do with the black animal called Curay,
+_animal noir appele Curay_.'
+
+"Above all things, there come Patriotic Gifts, of Church-furniture.
+The remnant of bells, except for tocsin, descend from their belfries,
+into the National melting-pot to make cannon. Censers and all sacred
+vessels are beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the
+poverty-stricken Mint; of pewter, let them become bullets, to shoot
+the 'enemies _du genre humain_'. Dalmatics of plush make breeches for
+him who had none; linen albs will clip into shirts for the Defenders
+of the Country: old-clothesmen, Jew or Heathen, drive the briskest
+trade. Chalier's Ass-Procession, at Lyons, was but a type of what went
+on, in those same days, in all Towns. In all Towns and Townships as
+quick as the guillotine may go, so quick goes the axe and the wrench:
+sacristies, lutrins, altar-rails are pulled down; the Mass-Books torn
+into cartridge-papers: men dance the Carmagnole all night about the
+bonfire. All highways jingle with metallic Priest-tackle, beaten
+broad; sent to the Convention, to the poverty-stricken Mint. Good
+Sainte Genevieve's _Chasse_ is let down: alas, to be burst open, this
+time, and burnt on the Place de Greve. Saint Louis's Shirt is
+burnt;--might not a Defender of the Country have had it?...
+
+"For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole-dance has hardly jigged
+itself out, there arrive Procureur Chaumette and Municipals and
+Departmentals, and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion!
+Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman fair to look upon, when
+well rouged; she, borne on palanquin shoulder-high; with red woollen
+nightcap; in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her hand the
+Pike of the Jupiter-_Peuple_, sails in: heralded by white young women
+girt in tricolor. Let the world consider it! This, O National
+Convention wonder of the universe, is our New Divinity; _Goddess of
+Reason_, worthy, and alone worthy of revering. Her henceforth we
+adore. Nay were it too much to ask of an august National
+Representation that it also went with us to the _ci-devant_ Cathedral
+called of Notre-Dame, and executed a few strophes in worship of her?
+
+"President and Secretaries give Goddess Candeille, borne at due height
+round their platform, successively the Fraternal kiss; whereupon she,
+by decree, sails to the right-hand of the President and there alights.
+And now, after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention,
+gathering its limbs, does get under way in the required procession
+towards Notre-Dame;--Reason, again in her litter, sitting in the van
+of them, borne, as one judges, by men in the Roman costume; escorted
+by wind-music, red nightcaps, and the madness of the world....
+
+"'The corresponding Festival in the Church of Saint-Eustache,' says
+Mercier, 'offered the spectacle of a great tavern. The interior of the
+choir represented a landscape decorated with cottages and boskets of
+trees. Round the choir stood tables overloaded with bottles, with
+sausages, pork-puddings, pastries and other meats. The guests flowed
+in and out through all doors: whosoever presented himself took part of
+the good things: children of eight, girls as well as boys, put hand to
+plate, in sign of Liberty; they drank also of the bottles, and their
+prompt intoxication created laughter. Reason sat in azure mantle
+aloft, in a serene manner; Cannoneers, pipe in mouth, serving her as
+acolytes. And out of doors,' continues the exaggerative man, 'were mad
+multitudes dancing round the bonfire of Chapel-balustrades, of
+Priests' and Canons' stalls; and the dancers,--I exaggerate
+nothing,--the dancers nigh bare of breeches, neck and breast naked,
+stockings down, went whirling and spinning, like those Dust-vortexes,
+forerunners of Tempest and Destruction.' At Saint-Gervais Church,
+again, there was a terrible 'smell of herrings'; Section or
+Municipality having provided no food, no condiment, but left it to
+chance. Other mysteries, seemingly of a Cabiric or even Paphian
+character, we leave under the Veil, which appropriately stretches
+itself 'along the pillars of the aisles,'--not to be lifted aside by
+the hand of History.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ILE DE LA CITE FROM THE PONT DES ARTS
+    TOUR ST. JACQUES
+    CONCIERGERIE
+    STE. CHAPELLE
+    NOTRE DAME]
+
+"But there is one thing we should like almost better to understand
+than any other: what Reason herself thought of it, all the while. What
+articulate words poor Mrs. Momoro, for example, uttered; when she had
+become ungoddessed again, and the Bibliopolist and she sat quiet at
+home, at supper? For he was an earnest man, Bookseller Momoro; and had
+notions of Agrarian Law. Mrs. Momoro, it is admitted, made one of the
+best Goddesses of Reason; though her teeth were a little
+defective.--And now if the Reader will represent to himself that such
+visible Adoration of Reason went on 'all over the Republic,' through
+these November and December weeks, till the Church woodwork was
+burnt out, and the business otherwise completed, he will perhaps feel
+sufficiently what an adoring Republic it was, and without reluctance
+quit this part of the subject."
+
+I quote in the following pages freely from Carlyle, because the
+Revolution is the most important event in the history of Paris and so
+horribly recent (you may still see the traces of Bonaparte's whiff of
+grape-shot on the facade of St. Roch), and also because when there is
+such an historian to borrow from direct, paraphrase becomes a crime.
+None the less, I feel it my duty to say that the attitude of this
+self-protective contemptuous superior Scotchman towards the excitable
+French and their hot-headed efforts for freedom often enrages me as
+much as his vivid narrative fascinates and moves.
+
+In 1794, when the New Religion had died down, the Church became a
+store for wine confiscated from the Royalists. In the year following,
+after the whiff of grape-shot, the old religion was re-established. A
+strange interregnum! How long ago was this?--only one hundred and
+fifteen years--not four generations. Could it happen again? Will
+it?...
+
+These revolutionaries, it may be remarked, were not the only
+licentious rioters that Notre Dame had known, for in its early days it
+was the scene every year of the Fete des Fous, an orgy of gluttony and
+conviviality, in which, however, one who was a true believer on all
+other days might partake.
+
+After these lurid saturnalia it is pleasant again to dip into the
+gentle pages of Louise de Grandpre, where, among other legends of
+Notre Dame, is the pretty story of a statue of the Virgin--now known
+as the Virgin with the bird. In the Rue Chanoinesse there lived a
+young woman, very devout, who came every day to pray. She brought with
+her her son, a little fellow, very wide-awake and full of spirits: his
+mother had taught him to say his prayers. Cyril would close his little
+hands to say his "Ave Maria," and he would throw a kiss to the little
+Jesus, his dear friend, complaining sometimes to his mother that the
+little Jesus would not play with him. "You are not good enough yet,"
+said his mother; "Jesus plays only with the little children in
+Paradise."
+
+A very severe winter fell and the young mother fell ill and no longer
+came to church. Cyril never saw the little Jesus now, but he often
+thought of him as he played at the foot of his mother's bed. On one of
+those days when the sky was dull and leaden and the air heavy and
+depressing, and the poor woman was rather worse and more hopeless than
+usual, she became so weak they thought each moment would be her last.
+
+Cyril could not understand why his mother no longer smiled at him or
+stroked his hair or called him to her. With his little heart almost
+bursting and his eyes full of tears, he said, "I will go and tell the
+little Jesus of my trouble."
+
+While they were attending to the poor mother the child disappeared. He
+ran as fast as his little legs would carry him and entered the
+cathedral by the cloister door, crossed the transept, and was soon at
+the foot of the statue of the Virgin Mary, where he was accustomed to
+say his prayers with his mother. "Little Jesus," said he, "Thou art
+very happy, Thou hast Thy Mother; mine, who was so good, is always
+asleep now and I am alone. Little Jesus, wake my mother up, and I will
+give you my best toys, morning and evening I will send you the
+sweetest kiss and say my best prayer. And look, to begin with, I have
+brought you my favourite bird: he is tame and will eat the golden
+crumbs of Paradise out of your hand." At the same time he stretched
+out his little closed hand towards Jesus.
+
+The divine child stretched out His hand and Cyril let his beloved
+little bird escape. The bird, who had a lovely coloured plumage, flew
+straight to the hand of the Infant Christ and has remained there to
+this day. The Virgin smiled on the child, and her white stone robe at
+that moment became the same colour as the bird's plumage.
+
+Cyril, with his heart very full, got up to go out, but before leaving
+the church turned round to have one more look at his little bird he
+loved so dearly: he was struck with delight and astonishment when he
+heard the favoured bird singing one of its sweetest songs in honour of
+the Virgin and her Child.
+
+When Cyril returned to his home he went into his mother's room without
+making the least noise to see if she was still asleep. The young
+mother was sitting upright in her bed, her head, still very bad,
+resting on a pillow, but her wide-open eyes were looking for her
+little one.
+
+"I was quite sure the little Jesus would wake you up," said Cyril,
+climbing on to her bed. "I took Him my bird this morning to take care
+of for me in the Garden of Paradise."
+
+Life once more returned to the poor woman and she kissed her boy.
+
+When you next go to Notre Dame, Louise de Grandpre adds, be sure to
+visit the Vierge a l'oiseau, who always hears the prayers of the
+little ones.
+
+It was in 1804 that Notre Dame enjoyed one of its most magnificent
+moments--at the coronation of Napoleon and Josephine Beauharnais. The
+Duchess d'Abrantes wrote an account of the ceremony which, in French,
+is both picturesque and rapturous. "The pope was the first to arrive.
+At the moment of his entering the cathedral, the clergy intoned Tu es
+Petrus, and this solemn chant made a deep impression on all. Pius the
+VII. advanced to the end of the cathedral with a majestic yet humble
+grace.... The moment when all eyes were most drawn to the Altar steps
+was when Josephine received the crown from the Emperor and was
+solemnly consecrated by him Empress of the French. When it was time
+for her to take an active part in the great ceremony, the Empress
+descended from the throne and advanced towards the altar, where the
+Emperor awaited her....
+
+"I saw," the Duchess continues, "all that I have just told you, with
+the eyes of Napoleon. He was radiant with joy as he watched the
+Empress advancing towards him; and when she knelt ... and the tears
+she could not restrain fell upon her clasped hands, raised more
+towards him than towards God: at this moment, when Napoleon, or rather
+Bonaparte, was for her her true providence, at this instant there was
+between these two beings one of those fleeting moments of life,
+unique, which fill up the void of years.
+
+"The Emperor invested with perfect grace every action of the ceremony
+he had to perform: above all, at the moment of crowning the Empress.
+This was to be done by the Emperor himself, who after receiving the
+little closed crown surmounted by a cross, had to place it on his own
+head first, and then place it on the Empress's head. He did this in
+such a slow, gracious and courtly manner that it was noticed by all.
+But at the supreme moment of crowning her who was to him his lucky
+star, he was almost coquettish, if I may use the term. He placed the
+little crown, which surmounted the diadem of brilliants, on her head,
+first putting it on, then taking it off and putting it on again, as if
+assuring himself that it should rest lightly and softly on her.
+
+"But Napoleon," the Duchess concludes, "when it came to his own crown,
+hastily took it from the Pope's hands and placed it haughtily on his
+own head--a proceeding which doubtless startled his Holiness."
+
+Ten years pass and we find Louis XVIII. and his family attending Mass
+at the same altar. Twenty-six years later, in 1840, a service was held
+to commemorate the restoration of the ashes of the Emperor to French
+soil, and in 1853 Napoleon III. and Eugenie de Montijo were married
+here, under circumstances of extraordinary splendour. And then we come
+to plunder and lawlessness again. On Good Friday, 1871, while Pere
+Olivier was preaching, a company of Communards entered and from
+thenceforward for a while the cathedral was occupied by the soldiers.
+For some labyrinthine reason the destruction of Notre Dame by fire was
+decided upon, and a huge pile of chairs and other material soaked in
+petrol was erected (this was only thirty-eight years ago), and no
+doubt the building would have been seriously injured, if not
+destroyed, had not the medical students from the Hotel Dieu, close by,
+rushed in and saved it.
+
+  [Illustration: LA PENSEE
+    RODIN
+    _(Luxembourg)_]
+
+Among the preachers of Notre Dame was St. Dominic, to whom in the
+pulpit the Virgin appeared, bringing with her his sermon all to his
+hand in an effulgent volume; here also preached Pere Hyacinthe, but
+with less direct assistance.
+
+That the Treasury is an object of interest to English-speaking
+visitors is proved by the notice at the door: "The Persons who desire
+to visit the Tresor are kindly requested to wait the guide here for a
+few minutes, himself charged of the visit"; but I see no good reason
+why any one should enter it. Those, however, that do will see vessels
+of gold, much paraphernalia of ecclesiastical pride and pomp, and
+certain holy relics. The crown of thorns is here, given to St. Louis
+by the King of Constantinople and carried to Notre Dame, on the 18th
+of August, 1239, by the barefoot king. Here also are pieces of the
+Cross, for the protection of which St. Louis built Sainte Chapelle,
+the relics afterwards being transferred to Notre Dame; and here is a
+nail from the Cross--one of the nails of which even an otherwise
+sceptical Catholic can be sure, because it was given to Charlemagne by
+Constantine. Charlemagne gave it to Aix la Chapelle, Charles the Bold
+brought it from Aix to St. Denis, and from St. Denis it came to Notre
+Dame, where it is enclosed in a crystal case.
+
+The menace of 397 spiral steps in a narrow, dark and almost airless
+turret, is no light matter, but it is essential to see Paris from the
+summit of Notre Dame. That view is the key to the city, and the
+traveller who means to study this city as it deserves, penetrating
+into the past as industriously and joyously as into the present, must
+begin here. He will see it all beneath him and around him in its
+varying ages, and he will be able to proceed methodically and
+intelligently. Immediately below is the Parvis, the scene of the
+interrupted execution of Esmeralda, and it was from one of the
+galleries below that Quasimodo slung himself down to her rescue. Here,
+where we are now standing, she must often have stood, looking for her
+faithless Phoebus. Only one of the bells that Quasimodo rang is
+still in the tower.
+
+Hugo draws attention to the shape of the island, like that of a ship
+moored to the mainland by various bridges, and he suggests that the
+ship on the Paris scutcheon (the ship that is to be seen in the design
+of the lamps around the Opera) is derived from this resemblance. It
+may be so. On each side of us, north and south, are the oldest parts
+of Paris that still stand; in the north the Marais, behind the Tour
+Saint-Jacques, and in the south the district between the Rue de Bievre
+and the Boulevard St. Michel. On the south side of the river lived the
+students, clerics and professors--Dante himself among them, in this
+very Rue de Bievre, as we shall see; while in the Marais, as we shall
+also see, dwelt the nobility. West of St. Eustache in the Middle Ages
+was nothing but waste ground and woodland, a kind of Bois, at the edge
+of which, where the Louvre now spreads itself, was a royal hunting
+lodge, the germ of the present vast palace.
+
+When the Marais passed out of favour, the aristocracy crossed the
+river to the St. Germain quarter, which clusters around the twin
+spires of St. Clotilde that now rise in the south-west. And then the
+Rue Saint-Honore and the Grands Boulevards were built, and so the city
+grew and changed until the two culminating touches were put to it: by
+M. Eiffel, who built the tower, and M. Abadie, architect of the
+beautiful and unreal Basilique du Sacre-Coeur that crowns the heights
+of Montmartre.
+
+The chief eminences that one sees are, near at hand, the needle-spire
+of Sainte Chapelle, in the north the grey mass of St. Eustache, the
+Chatelet Theatre (advertising at this moment "Les Pilules du Diable"
+in enormous letters), the long roofs of the Halles, and the outline of
+the medieval Tour Saint-Jacques. Farther west the bulky Opera; then,
+right in front, the Trocadero's twin towers, with Mont Valerien
+looming up immediately between them; and so round to the south--to the
+Invalides and St. Clotilde, the Pantheon and the heights of Genevieve.
+A wonderful panorama.
+
+Of all the views of Paris I think that from Notre Dame is the most
+interesting, because the point is most central; but the views from
+Montmartre, from the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Pantheon and the Arc de
+Triomphe should be studied too. The Eiffel Tower has dwarfed all those
+eminences; they lie far below it, mere ant-hills in the landscape,
+although they seem high enough when one essays their steps; yet,
+although it makes them so lowly, these older coigns of vantage should
+not for a moment be considered as superseded, for each does for its
+immediate vicinage what the Eiffel giant can never do. From the Arc de
+Triomphe, for example, you command all the luxurious activity of the
+Avenue du Bois de Boulogne and the wonderful prospect of the Champs
+Elysees, ending with the Louvre; and from the Pantheon you may examine
+the roofs of the Latin Quarter and see the children at play in the
+gardens of the Luxembourg.
+
+The merit of the Eiffel Tower is that he shows you not only Paris to
+the ultimate edges in every direction save on the northern slopes of
+Montmartre, but he shows you (almost) France too. How long the Eiffel
+Tower is to stand I cannot say, but I for one shall feel sorry and
+bereft when he ceases to straddle over Paris. For though he is vulgar
+he is great, and he has come to be a symbol. When he goes, he will
+make a strange rent in the sky. This year (1909) is his twentieth: he
+and I first came to Paris at the same time; but his life is serene
+to-day compared with what it was in his infancy. At that time his
+platforms were congested from morn to dusk; but few visitors now
+ascend even to the first stage and hardly any to the top. No visitor,
+however, who wants to synthesise Paris should omit this adventure.
+Only in a balloon can one get a better view, but in no balloon adrift
+from this green earth would I, for one, ever trust myself, although I
+must confess that the procession of those aerial monsters that floated
+serenely past the Eiffel Tower on the last occasion that I climbed it,
+suggested nothing but content and security. They rose one by one from
+the bosky depths of the Bois, five miles away, gradually disentangled
+themselves from the surrounding verdure, assumed their independent
+buoyant rotundity and came straight to my waiting eye. In an hour I
+counted fifteen, and by the time the last was free of the earth the
+first was away over Vincennes, with the afternoon sun turning its
+mud-coloured silk to burnished gold. Paris has always one balloon
+floating above her, but fifteen is exceptional.
+
+Notre Dame remains, however, the most important height to scale, for
+Notre Dame is interesting in every particular, it is soaked in history
+and mystery. Notre Dame is alone in the possession of its
+devils--those strange stone fantasies that Meryon discovered. Although
+every effort is made to familiarise us with them--although they sit
+docilely as paper-weights on our tables--nothing can lessen the
+monstrous diablerie of these figures, which look down on Paris with
+such greed and cruelty, cunning and cynicism. The best known, the most
+saturnine, of all, who leans on the parapet exactly by the door at the
+head of the steps, fixes his inhuman gaze on the dome of the
+Invalides. Is it to be wondered at that he wears that expression?
+
+A small family dwells in a room just behind this chimera, subsisting
+by the sale of picture-postcards. It is a strange abode, and an
+imaginative child would have a good start in life there. To him at any
+rate the demons no doubt would soon lose their terrors and become as
+friendly as the heavenly host that are posed so radiantly and
+confidently on the ascent to the fleche--perhaps even more so. But to
+the stranger they must remain cruel and horrible, creating a sense of
+disquietude and alarm that it is surely the business of a cathedral to
+allay. Curious anomaly! Let us descend.
+
+Before leaving the Ile de la Cite, the Rue Chanoinesse, to the north
+of Notre Dame, leading out of the Rue d'Arcole (near a blackguard
+pottery shop), should be looked at. The cloisters of Notre Dame once
+extended to this street and covered the ground between it and the
+cathedral. The canons, or chanoines, lived here, and there are still a
+few attractive old houses; but the rebuilder is very busy just now. At
+No. 10, Fulbert, the uncle of Heloise, is said to have lived; at No.
+18 was the Tour Dagobert, a fifteenth-century building, by climbing
+which one had an excellent view of Notre Dame, but in the past year it
+has been demolished and business premises cover its site. At No. 26
+are (or were) the ruins of the twelfth-century chapel of St. Aignan,
+where the faithful, evicted from Notre Dame by the Reign of Reason,
+celebrated Mass in secret. Saint Bernard has preached here. The
+adjacent streets--the Rue de Colombe, Rue Massillon, Rue des Ursins
+and Rue du Cloitre-Notre-Dame--have also very old houses.
+
+  [Illustration: BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE
+    RAPHAEL
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+For the best view of the exterior of Notre Dame one must take the Quai
+de l'Archeveche, from which all its intricacies of masonry may be
+studied--its buttresses solid and flying, its dependences, its massive
+bulk, its grace and strength.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+ST. LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND
+
+     The Morgue--The Ile St. Louis--Old Residents--St. Louis, the
+     King--The Golden Legend--Religious Intolerance--Posthumous
+     Miracles--Statue of Barye--The Quai des Celestins.
+
+
+On the way from Notre Dame to the Ile St. Louis we pass a small
+official-looking building at the extreme east end of the Ile de la
+Cite. It is the Morgue.
+
+But the Morgue is now closed to idle gazers, and you win your way to a
+sight of that melancholy slab with the weary bodies on it and the
+little jet of water playing on each, only by the extreme course of
+having missed a relation whom you suspected of designs upon his own
+life or whom you imagine has been the victim of foul play. No doubt
+the authorities were well advised (as French municipal authorities
+nearly always are) in closing the Morgue; but I think I regret it. The
+impulse to drift into that low and sinister building behind Notre Dame
+was partly morbid, no doubt; but the ordinary man sees not only too
+little death, but is too seldom in the presence of such failure as for
+the most part governs here: so that the opportunity it gave was good.
+
+I still recall very vividly, in spite of all the millions of living
+faces that should, one feels, have blurred one's prosperous vision,
+several of the dead faces that lay behind the glass of this forlorn
+side-show of the great entertainment which we call Paris. An old man
+with a white imperial; more than one woman of that dreadful middle-age
+which the Seine has so often terminated; a young man who had been
+stabbed.... Well, the Morgue is closed to the public now, and very
+likely no one who reads this book will ever enter it.
+
+The Ile St. Louis, to put it bluntly, is just as commonplace as the
+Ile de la Cite is imposing. It has a monotony very rare in the older
+parts of Paris: it is all white houses that have become dingy: houses
+that once were attractive and wealthy and are now squalid. One of the
+largest of the old palaces is to-day a garage; there is not a single
+house now occupied by the kind of tenant for which it was intended.
+Such declensions are always rather melancholy, even when--as, for
+example, at Villeneuve, near Avignon--there is the beauty of decay
+too. But on the Ile St. Louis there is no beauty: it belongs to a dull
+period of architecture and is now duller for its dirt. Standing on the
+Quai d'Orleans, however, one catches Notre Dame against the evening
+sky, across the river, as nowhere else, and it is necessary to seek
+the Ile if only to appreciate the fitness of the Morgue's position.
+
+The island was first called L'Ile Notre Dame, and was uninhabited
+until 1614. It was then developed and joined to the Ile de la Cite and
+the mainland by bridges. The chief street is the Rue St. Louis, at
+No. 3 in which lived Fenelon. The church of St. Louis is interesting
+for a relic of the unfortunate Louise de la Valliere. At No. 17 on the
+Quai d'Anjou is the Hotel Lauzun, which the city of Paris has now
+acquired, and in which once lived together for a while the authors of
+_Mademoiselle de Maupin_ and _Les Fleurs de Mal_.
+
+Of Saint Louis, or Louis IX., who gives his name to this island, and
+whose hand is so visible in the Ile de la Cite, it is right to know
+something, for he was the father of Paris. Louis was born in 1215, the
+year of Magna Charta, and succeeded to the throne while still a boy.
+The early years of his reign were restless by reason of civil strife
+and war with England, in which he was victor (at Tailleburg, at
+Saintes and at Blaize), and then came his departure for the Holy Land,
+with 40,000 men, in fulfilment of a vow made rashly on a sick-bed. The
+King was blessed at Notre Dame, as we have seen, and departed in 1248,
+leaving his mother Blanche de Castile as regent. But the Crusade was a
+failure, and he was glad to return (with only the ghost of his army)
+and to settle down for the first time seriously to the cares of his
+throne.
+
+He was a good if prejudiced king: he built wisely and well, not only
+Sainte Chapelle, as we have seen, but the Sorbonne; he devised useful
+statutes; he established police in Paris; and, more perhaps than all,
+he made Frenchmen very proud of France. So much for his administrative
+virtues. When we come to his saintliness I would stand aside, for is
+he not in _The Golden Legend_? Listen to William Caxton: "He forced
+himself to serve his spirit by diverse castigation or chastising, he
+used the hair many times next his flesh, and when he left it for cause
+of over feebleness of his body, at the instance of his own confessor,
+he ordained the said confessor to give to the poor folk, as for
+recompensation of every day that he failed of it, forty shillings. He
+fasted always the Friday, and namely in time of lent and advent he
+abstained him in those days from all manner of fish and from fruits,
+and continually travailed and pained his body by watchings, orisons,
+and other secret abstinences and disciplines. Humility, beauty of all
+virtues, replenished so strong in him, that the more better he waxed,
+so, as David, the more he showed himself meek and humble, and more
+foul he reputed him before God.
+
+"For he was accustomed on every Saturday to wash with his own hands,
+in a secret place, the feet of some poor folk, and after dried them
+with a fair towel, and kissed much humbly and semblably their hands,
+distributing or dealing to every one of them a certain sum of silver,
+also to seven score poor men which daily came to his court, he
+administered meat and drink with his own hands, and were fed
+abundantly on the vigils solemn. And on some certain days in the year
+to two hundred poor, before that he ate or drank, he with his own
+hands administered and served them both of meat and drink. He ever
+had, both at his dinner and supper, three ancient poor, which ate nigh
+to him, to whom he charitably sent of such meats as were brought
+before him, and sometimes the dishes and meats that the poor of our
+Lord had touched with their hands, and special the sops of which he
+fain ate, made their remnant or relief to be brought before him, to
+the end that he should eat it; and yet again to honour and worship the
+name of our Lord on the poor folk, he was not ashamed to eat their
+relief."
+
+Qualities have their defects, and such a frame of mind as that can
+lead, for all the good motive, to injustice and even cruelty. Christ's
+lesson of the Roman coin is forgotten as quickly as any. Louis'
+passion for holiness, which became a kind of self-indulgence, led him
+into a hard and ugly intolerance and acts of severe oppression against
+those whom he styled heretics. His short way with the Jews recalled
+indeed those of our own King John, who was very nearly his
+contemporary. I know not if he pulled out their teeth, but he once did
+what must have been as bad, if not worse, for he published an
+ordinance "for the good of his soul," remitting to his Christian
+subjects the third of their debts to the Jews; and he also expressed
+it as his opinion that "a layman ought not to dispute with an
+unbeliever, but strike him with a good sword across the body," the
+most practical expression of muscular sectarianism that I know. Louis'
+religious fanaticism was, however, his end; for he was so ill-advised
+as to undertake a new Crusade against the unbelievers of Morocco, and
+there, while laying siege to Tunis, he died of the plague. That was
+in 1270, when he was only fifty-five.
+
+  [Illustration: NOTRE DAME: SOUTH FACADE
+    (FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)
+    STE. CHAPELLE]
+
+Twenty-seven years later Pope Boniface the Eighth raised him to the
+Calendar of Saints, his day being August 25th. But according to _The
+Golden Legend_, which I for one implicitly believe (how can one help
+it, written as it is?), the posthumous miracles of Louis did not wait
+for Rome. They began at once. "On that day that S. Louis was buried,"
+we there read, "a woman of the diocese of Sens recovered her sight,
+which she had lost and saw nothing, by the merits and prayers of the
+said debonair and meedful king. Not long after, a young child of
+Burgundy both dumb and deaf of kind, coming with others to the
+sepulchre or grave of the saint, beseeching him of help, kneeling as
+he saw that the others did, and after a little while that he thus
+kneeled were his ears opened and heard, and his tongue redressed and
+spake well. In the same year a woman blind was led to the said
+sepulchre, and by the merits of the saint recovered her sight. Also
+that same year two men and five women, beseeching S. Louis of help,
+recovered the use of going, which they had lost by divers sickness and
+languors.
+
+"In the year that S. Louis was put or written in the catalogue of the
+holy confessors, many miracles worthy to be prized befell in divers
+parts of the world at the invocation of him, by his merits and by his
+prayers. Another time at Evreux a child fell under the wheel of a
+water-mill. Great multitude of people came thither, and supposing to
+have kept him from drowning, invoked God, our Lady and his saints to
+help the said child, but our Lord willing his saint to be enhanced
+among so great multitude of people, was there heard a voice saying
+that the said child, named John, should be vowed unto S. Louis. He
+then, taken out of the water, was by his mother borne to the grave of
+the saint, and after her prayer done to S. Louis, her son began to
+sigh and was raised on life."
+
+We leave the island by the Pont Sully, first looking at the statue of
+Barye, the sculptor of Barbizon, many of whose best small bronzes are
+in the Louvre (to say nothing of the shops of the dealers in the Rue
+Laffitte) and several of his large groups in the public gardens of
+Paris, one, for example, being near the Orangery in the Tuileries.
+Barye's monument standing here at the east end of the Ile St. Louis
+balances Henri IV. at the west end of the Ile de la Cite.
+
+Crossing to the mainland we ought to look at the old houses on the
+Quai des Celestins, particularly the old Hotel de la Valette, now the
+College Massillon, into whose courtyard one should boldly peep. At No.
+32 we touch very interesting history, for here stood, two and a half
+centuries ago, Moliere's Illustre Theatre, the stage entrance to which
+may be seen at 15 Rue de l'Ave Marie.
+
+And now for the Marais.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE MARAIS
+
+     A L32,000,000 Rebuilding Scheme--Romance and Intrigue--The
+     Temple--The Archives--Illustrious Handwriting--The "Uncle"
+     of Paris--The Wall of Philip Augustus--Old Palaces now
+     Rookeries--The Carnavalet--The Perfect
+     Museum--Latude--Napoleon--Madame de Sevigne--Chained
+     Streets--John Law--The Rue St. Martin.
+
+
+The Marais is that district of old streets and palaces which is
+bounded on the south by the Rue St. Antoine, on the east by the Rue du
+Turenne, on the west by the Rue du Temple, and fades away in the north
+somewhere below the Rue de Bretagne. The Rue des Francs Bourgeois is
+its central highway east and west.
+
+It was my original intention to devote a large proportion of this book
+to this fascinating area--to describe it minutely street by
+street--and I have notes for that purpose which would fill half the
+volume alone. But the publication of the L32,000,000 scheme for
+renovating this and other of the older parts of Paris (one of the
+principal points in which is the isolation of the Musee Carnavalet,
+which is the heart of the Marais), coming just at that time, acted
+like a douche of iced water, and I abandoned the project. Instead
+therefore I merely say enough (I hope) to impress on every reader the
+desirability, the necessity, of hastening to the Rue des Francs
+Bourgeois and its dependencies, and refer them to the two French
+writers whom I have found most useful in my own researches--the
+Marquis de Rochegude, author of a _Guide Pratique a travers le Vieux
+Paris_ (Hachette) and the Vicomte de Villebresme, author of _Ce que
+reste du Vieux Paris_ (Flammarion). To these I would add M. Georges
+Cain, the director of the Carnavalet, to whom I refer later.
+
+No matter where one enters the Marais, it offers the same alluring
+prospect of narrow streets and high and ancient houses, once the abode
+of the nobility and aristocracy, but now rookeries and factories--and,
+over all, that sense of thorough insanitation which so often
+accompanies architectural charm in France and Italy, and which seems
+to matter so little to Latin people. Hence the additional wickedness
+of destroying this district. The Municipality, however, having
+acquired superfine foreign notions as to public health, will doubtless
+have its way.
+
+Wherever one enters the Marais one finds the traces of splendour,
+intrigue and romance; howsoever modern conditions may have robbed them
+of their glory, to walk in these streets is, for any one with any
+imagination, to recreate Dumas. For the most part one must make one's
+own researches, but here and there a tablet may be found, such as that
+over the entrance to a narrow and sinister passage at No. 38 Rue des
+Francs Bourgeois, which reads thus: "Dans ce passage en sortant de
+l'hotel Barbette le Duc Louis d'Orleans frere du Roi Charles VI. fut
+assassine par Jean Sans Peur, Duc de Bourgogne, dans la nuit du 23 ou
+24 Novembre, 1407". Five hundred years ago! That gives an idea of the
+antiseptic properties of the air of Paris. The Duke of Orleans, I
+might remark here, was symmetrically avenged, for his son assassinated
+Jean Sans Peur on the bridge of Montereau all in due course.
+
+The Marais was at its prime from the middle of the fifteenth century
+to the beginning of the eighteenth; at which period the Faubourg St.
+Antoine was abandoned by fashion for the Faubourg St. Germain, as we
+shall see when the time comes to wander in the Rue de Varenne and the
+Rue de Grenelle on the other side of the river.
+
+Let us enter the Marais by the Rue du Temple at the Square du Temple,
+a little south of the Place de la Republique. One must make a
+beginning somewhere. The Temple, which has now disappeared, was the
+head-quarters of the Knight Templars of France before their
+suppression in 1307: it then became the property of the Order of St.
+John of Jerusalem, who held it until the Revolution, when all property
+seems to have changed hands. Rousseau found sanctuary here in 1765;
+and here Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were imprisoned for a while
+in 1792. More tragic by far, it was here that the little Dauphin died.
+Napoleon pulled down the Tower: Louis XVIII. on his accession awarded
+the property to the Princesse de Conde, and Louis-Philippe, on his,
+took it back again.
+
+The Rue du Temple has many interesting old houses and associations.
+Just north of the Square is the church of Elizabeth of Hungary, the
+first stone of which was laid in 1628 by a less sainted monarch, Marie
+de Medicis. It is worth entering to see its carved wood scenes from
+Scripture history. At 193 once lived Madame du Barry; at 153 was, in
+the reign of Louis XV., the barreau des vinaigrettes--the vinaigrette
+being the forerunner of the cab, a kind of sedan chair and
+jinrickshaw; at 62 died Anne de Montmorency, Constable of France, in
+the Hotel de Montmorency.
+
+  [Illustration: L'HOMME AU GANT
+    TITIAN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+From the Square du Temple we may also walk down the Rue des Archives,
+parallel with the Rue du Temple on the east. This street now extends
+to the Rue de Rivoli. It is rich in old palaces, some with very
+beautiful relics of their grandeur still in existence, such as the
+staircase at No. 78. The fountain at the corner of the Rue des
+Haudriettes dates only from 1705. At No. 58 is the gateway, restored,
+of the old palace of the Constable de Clisson, built in 1371. Later it
+belonged to the Guise family and then to the Soubise. The Revolution
+made it the property of the State, and Napoleon directed that the
+Archives should be preserved here. The entrance is in the Rue des
+Francs Bourgeois, across the green court; but do not go on a cold day,
+because there is no heating process, owing to the age of the
+building and the extraordinary value of the collections. The rooms in
+themselves are of some interest for their Louis XV. decoration and
+mural paintings, but one goes of course primarily to see the
+handwriting of the great. Here is the Edict of Nantes signed by Henri
+IV.; a quittance signed by Diana de Poictiers, very boldly; a letter
+to Parliament from Louis XI., in his atrocious hand; a codicil added
+by Saint Louis to his will on board a vessel on the coast of Sardinia,
+exquisitely written. The scriveners have rather gone off than improved
+since those days; look at the "Registre des enqueteurs royaux en
+Normandie," 1248, for a work of delicate minuteness. Marie Therese,
+wife of Louis XIV., wrote an attractive hand, but Louis XIV.'s own
+signature is dull. Voltaire is discovered to have written very like
+Swinburne.
+
+Relics of the Revolution abound. Here is Marie Antoinette's last
+letter to the Princess Elizabeth, written the night before she was
+executed; a letter of Petion, bidding his wife farewell, and of
+Barbaroux to his mother, both stained with tears. Here also is the
+journal of Louis XVI., 1766-1792, and the order for his inhumation (as
+Louis Capet), 21st January, 1793. His will is here too; and so is
+Napoleon's. I say no more because the collection is so vast, and also
+because a franc buys a most admirable catalogue, with facsimiles,
+beginning with the monogram of Charlemagne himself.
+
+On leaving the Archives we may take an easterly course along the Rue
+des Francs Bourgeois, with the idea of making eventually for the
+Carnavalet; but it is well to loiter, for this is the very heart of
+the Marais. One's feet will always be straying down byways that call
+for closer notice, and it is very likely that the Carnavalet will not
+be reached till to-morrow after all. Indeed, let "Hasta manana" be
+your Marais motto.
+
+One of the first buildings that one notices is the Mont de Piete, the
+chief of the Paris pawnbroking establishments. I am told that the
+system is an admirable one; but my own experience is against this
+opinion, for I was unable on a day of unexpected stress at the end of
+1907 to effect an entrance at the very reasonable hour of a quarter
+past five. The closing of the English pawnbrokers at seven--the very
+moment at which the ordinary man's financial troubles begin--is
+sufficiently uncivilised; but to cease to lend money on excellent gold
+watches at five o'clock in the afternoon (with the bank closed on the
+morrow, too, being New Year's Day) is a scandal. My adventures in
+search of relief among French tradesmen who had been at my feet as
+recently as yesterday, before supplies had broken down, I shall never
+forget, nor shall I relate them here. This aims at being an agreeable
+book.
+
+It is interesting to note that one of the entrances to the Mont de
+Piete is reserved for clients who wish to raise money on deeds, and I
+have seen cabmen very busy in bringing to it people who quite
+shamelessly hold their papers in their hands. And why on earth not?
+And yet your English pawner seldom reaches the Three Brass Balls with
+such publicity or by any other medium than his poor feet. Our Mont de
+Piete for the respectable is the solicitor's office. A trace of the
+wall, and one of its towers, built around Paris by Philip Augustus in
+the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, may be seen in the courtyard of
+the Mont de Piete; but the wall is better observed in the Rue des
+Guillemites, at No. 14.
+
+All about here once stood a large convent of the Blancs-Manteaux, or
+Servants of the Virgin Mary, an order which came into being in
+Florence in the thirteenth century and of whom the doctor Benazzi was
+the general. After the Blancs-Manteaux came the Hermits of St.
+Guillaume, or Guillemites, and later the Benedictines took it over.
+Next the Mont de Piete at the back is the church of the
+Blancs-Manteaux in its modern form. It is plain and unattractive, but
+it wears an air of some purpose, and one feels that it is much used in
+this very popular and not too happy quarter. Just opposite, in a
+doorway, I watched an old chiffonniere playing with a grey rabbit.
+Every inch of this neighbourhood offers priceless material to the hand
+of Mr. Muirhead Bone.
+
+One of the old tavern signs of Paris is to be seen close by, at the
+corner of the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux and the Rue des Archives: a
+soldier standing by a cannon, representing l'homme arme. It is a
+comfortable little retreat and should be encouraged for such
+antiquarian piety.
+
+The pretty turret at the corner of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois and
+the Rue Vieille du Temple marks the site of the hotel of Jean de la
+Balue. Turning to the left up the Rue Vieille du Temple we come at No.
+87 to a very beautiful ancient mansion, with a spacious courtyard,
+built in 1712 for the Cardinal de Rohan. It is now the national
+printing works: hence the statue of Gutenberg in the midst. Visitors
+are allowed to see the house itself once a week, but I have not done
+so. You will probably not be interfered with if you just step to the
+inside of the second courtyard to see the bas-relief of the steeds of
+Apollo. Nos. 102 to 108 in the same street mark the remains of another
+fine eighteenth-century hotel. There is also a house which one should
+see in the lower part of the street, on the south side of the Francs
+Bourgeois--No. 47, where by penetrating boldly one comes to a perfect
+little courtyard with some beautiful carvings in it, and, above, a
+green garden, tended, when I was there, by a Little Sister of the
+Poor. The principal courtyard has a very interesting bas-relief of
+Romulus and Remus at their usual meal, and also an old sundial. This
+palace was built in 1638.
+
+Returning to the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, we find at No. 38 the
+little impasse already referred to, where the Duc d'Orleans was
+assassinated. At No. 30 is a very impressive red-brick palace with a
+courtyard, now a nest of offices and factories, once the hotel of Jean
+de Fourcy. A bust of Henri IV. has a place there. At No. 25 on the
+other side (seen better from the Rue Pavee) is an even more splendid
+abode--now also cut up into a rookery--the Hotel de Lamoignon, once
+Hotel d'Angouleme, built for Diane, Duchess of Angouleme, daughter of
+Henri II.: hence the symbols of the chase in the ornamentation. The
+hotel passed to President de Lamoignon in 1655.
+
+And here is the Carnavalet--the spacious building, with a garden and
+modern additions, on the left--once the Hotel des Ligneries,
+afterwards the Hotel de Kernevenoy, afterwards the Hotel de Sevigne,
+and now the museum of the city of Paris. The only way to understand
+Paris is to make repeated visits to this treasure-house. You will find
+new entertainment and instruction every time, because every time you
+will carry thither impressions of new objects of interest whose past
+you will want to explore. For in the Carnavalet every phase of the
+life of the city, from the days of the Romans and the Merovingians to
+our own, is illustrated in one way or another. The pictures of streets
+alone are inexhaustible: the streets that one knows to-day as they
+were yesterday and the day before yesterday and hundreds of years ago;
+the streets one has just walked through on the way here, in their
+stages of evolution: such, for example, as the picture of the wooden
+Pont des Meuniers in 1380 with the Tour Saint-Jacques behind it; the
+streets with dramas of the Revolution in progress, such as the picture
+of the emblems of Royalty being burned before the statue of Liberty
+(where the Luxor column now stands) in the Place de la Concorde on
+August 10th, 1793; such as the picture of the famous "serment" being
+taken in the court of the Jeu de Paume on June 20th, 1789; such as the
+picture of the funeral of Marat. For the perfection of topographical
+drawing look at the series by F. Hoffbauer. But it is impossible and
+needless to particularise. The visitor with a topographical or
+historical bent will find himself in a paradise and will return and
+return. One visit is ridiculous.
+
+The catalogue, I may say, is not good, therein falling into line with
+the sculpture catalogue at the Louvre. Everything may be in it, but
+the arrangement is poor. In such a museum every article and every
+picture should of course have a description attached, if only for the
+benefit of the poor visitor, the humblest citizen of Paris whose
+museum it is.
+
+There are a few works of art here too, as well as topographical
+drawings. Georges Michel, for example, who looked on landscape much as
+Meryon looked on architecture and preferred a threatening sky to a
+sunny one, has a prospect from the Plaine St. Denis. Vollon paints the
+Moulin de la Galette on Montmartre as it was in 1865; Troyon spreads
+out St. Cloud. Here also are a charming portrait by Chardin of his
+second wife; the well-known picture of David's Life School; drawings
+by Watteau; an adorable unsigned "Marchand de Lingerie"; an enchanting
+leg on a blue pillow by Boucher; a portrait by Prud'hon of an
+unknown man, very striking; and some exquisite work by Louis Boilly.
+
+  [Illustration: PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME
+    ATTRIBUTED TO BIGIO
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Musee is strong in Henri IV. and the later Louis, but it is of
+course in relics of the Revolution and Napoleon that the interest
+centres. A casquette of Liberty; the handle of Marat's bathroom; a
+portrait of "La Veuve Capet" in the Conciergerie, in the room that we
+have seen; a painted life-mask of Voltaire, very horrible, and the
+armchair in which he died; a copy of the constitution of 1793 bound in
+the skin of a man; Marat's snuff-box; Madame Roland as a sweet and
+happy child,--these I remember in particular.
+
+Latude is, however, the popular figure--Latude the prisoner of the
+Bastille who escaped by means of implements which he made secretly and
+which are now preserved here, near a portrait of the enfranchised
+gentleman, robust, portly and triumphant, pointing with one hand to
+his late prison while the other grasps the rope ladder. Latude's
+history is an odd one. He was born in 1725, the natural son of a poor
+girl: after accompanying the army in Languedoc as a surgeon, or
+surgeon's assistant, he reached Paris in 1748 and proceeded to starve.
+In despair he hit upon an ingenious trick, which wanted nothing but
+success to have made him. He prepared an infernal machine of
+infinitesimal aptitude--a contrivance of practically harmless but
+perhaps somewhat alarming explosives--and this he sent anonymously to
+the Marquise de Pompadour, and then immediately after waited upon her
+in person at Versailles to say that he had overheard some men plotting
+to destroy her by means of this kind of a bomb, and he had come
+post-haste to warn her and save her life. It was a good story, but
+Latude seems to have lacked some necessary gifts as an impostor, for
+his own share was detected and he was thrown into the Bastille on the
+1st of May, 1749. A few weeks later he was transferred to the prison
+at Vincennes, from which he escaped in 1750. A month later he was
+retaken and again placed in the Bastille, from which he escaped six
+years later. He got away to Holland, but was quickly recaptured; and
+then again he escaped, after nine more years. He was then treated as a
+lunatic and put into confinement at Charenton, but was discharged in
+1777. His liberty, however, seems to have been of little use to him,
+and he rapidly qualified for gaol again by breaking into a house and
+threatening its owner, a woman, with a pistol, and he was imprisoned
+once more. Altogether he was under lock and key for the greater part
+of thirty-five years; but once he was free in 1784 he kept his head,
+and not only remained free but became a popular hero, and did not a
+little, by reason of a heightened account of his sufferings under
+despotic prison rule, to inflame the revolutionaries. These memoirs,
+by the way, in the preparation of which he was assisted by an advocate
+named Thiery, were for the most part untruthful, and not least so in
+those passages in which Latude described his own innocence and
+ideals. Our own canonised prison-breaker, Jack Sheppard, was a better
+hero than this man.
+
+The little room devoted to Napoleon is filled with an intimate
+melancholy. Many personal relics are here--even to a toothbrush dipped
+in a red powder. His necessaires de campagne so compactly arranged
+illustrate the minute orderliness of his mind, and the workmanship of
+the travelling cases that hold them proves once again his thoroughness
+and taste. Everything had to be right. One of his maps of la campagne
+de Prusse is here; others we shall see at the Invalides.
+
+The relics of Madame de Sevigne, who once lived in this beautiful
+house, are not very numerous; but they exercise their spell. Her salon
+is very much as she left it, except that the private staircase has
+disappeared and a china closet takes its place. Within these walls
+have La Rochefoucauld and Bossuet conversed; here she sat, pen in
+hand, writing her immortal letters. "Lisons tout Madame de Sevigne"
+was the advice of Sainte-Beuve, while her most illustrious English
+admirer, Edward FitzGerald, often quotes her. He came to her late, not
+till 1875, but she never loosened her hold. "I have this Summer," he
+wrote to Mrs. W. H. Thompson, "made the Acquaintance of a great Lady,
+with whom I have become perfectly intimate, through her Letters,
+Madame de Sevigne. I had hitherto kept aloof from her, because of that
+eternal Daughter of hers; but 'it's all Truth and Daylight,' as Kitty
+Clive said of Mrs. Siddons. Her Letters from Brittany are best of all,
+not those from Paris, for she loved the Country, dear Creature; and
+now I want to go and visit her 'Rochers,' but never shall." "I
+sometimes lament," he says (to Mrs. Cowell), "I did not know her
+before; but perhaps such an acquaintance comes in best to cheer one
+toward the end." With these pleasant praises in our ears let us leave
+the Carnavalet.
+
+The Rue de Sevigne itself has many interesting houses, notably on the
+south side of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois; No. 11, for example, was
+once a theatre, built by Beaumarchais in 1790. That is nothing; the
+interesting thing is that he built it of material from the destroyed
+Bastille and the destroyed church of St. Paul. The fire station close
+by was once the Hotel de Perron de Quincy. It was in this street, on
+the day of the Fete Dieu in 1392, that the Constable de Clisson, whose
+house we saw in the Rue des Archives, was attacked by Pierre de Craon.
+
+The Rue des Francs Bourgeois is the highway of the Marais, and the
+Carnavalet is its greatest possession; but, as I have said, the Marais
+is inexhaustible in architectural and historical riches. We may work
+our way through it, back to the Rue du Temple by any of these ancient
+streets; all will repay. The Rue du Temple extends to the Rue de
+Rivoli, striking it just by the Hotel de Ville, but the lower portion,
+south of the Rue Rambuteau, is not so interesting as the upper. There
+is, however, to the west of it, just north of the Rue de Rivoli, a
+system of old streets hardly less picturesque (and sometimes even
+more so) than the Marais proper, in the centre of which is the church
+of St. Merry, with one of the most wonderful west fronts anywhere--a
+mass of rich and eccentric decoration. The Saint himself was Abbot of
+Autun. He came to Paris in the seventh century to visit the shrines of
+St. Denis and St. Germain. At that time the district which we are now
+traversing was chiefly forest, in which the kings of France would
+hunt, leaving their palace in the Ile de la Cite and crossing the
+river to this wild district--wild though so near. St. Merry
+established himself in his simple way near a little chapel in the
+woods, dedicated to St. Peter, that stood on this spot, and there he
+died. After his death his tomb in the chapel performed such miracles
+that St. Peter was forgotten and St. Merry was exalted, and when the
+time came to rebuild, St. Merry ousted St. Peter altogether.
+
+  [Illustration: THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L'ETOILE
+    (APPROACHING FROM THE AVENUE DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE)]
+
+St. Merry's florid west front is in the Rue St. Martin, once the Roman
+road from Paris to the north and to England, and by the Rue St. Martin
+we may leave this district; but between it and the Rue du Temple there
+is much to see--such as, for example, the Rue Verrerie, south of St.
+Merry's, the head-quarters of the ancient glassworkers; the Rue
+Brisemiche, quite one of the best of the old narrow Paris streets,
+with iron staples and hooks still in the walls at Nos. 20, 23, 26 and
+29, to which chains could be fastened so as to turn a street into an
+impasse during times of stress and thus be sure of your man; the Rue
+Taillepin, also leading out of the Rue du Cloitre St. Merry into the
+Rue St. Merri, which has some fine old houses of its own, notably No.
+36 and the quaint Impasse du Boeuf at No. 10.
+
+Parallel with the Rue St. Merry farther north is the Rue de Venise,
+which the Vicomte de Villebresme boldly calls the most picturesque in
+old Paris. Now a very low quarter, it was once literally the Lombard
+Street of Paris, the chief abode of Lombardy moneylenders, while the
+long and beautiful Rue Quincampoix, into which it runs on the west,
+was also a financial centre, containing no less an establishment than
+the famous Banque of John Law, the Scotchman who for a while early in
+the eighteenth century controlled French finance. When Law had matured
+his Mississippi scheme, he made the Rue Quincampoix his head-quarters,
+and houses in it, we read, that had been let for L40 a year now
+yielded L800 a month. In the winter of 1719-20 Paris was filled with
+speculators besieging Law's offices for shares. But by May the crash
+had come and Law had to fly. Many a house in the Rue Quincampoix,
+which is now sufficiently innocent of high finance, dates from the
+fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There is a fine doorway at No. 34.
+
+We may regain the Rue St. Martin, just to the east, by the Rue des
+Lombards, which brings us to the flamboyant front of St. Merry's once
+more. The Rue St. Martin, which confesses its Roman origin in its
+straightness, is still busy with traffic, but neither itself nor the
+Rue St. Denis, two or three hundred yards to the west, is one-tenth
+as busy as it was before the Boulevard Sebastopol was cut between them
+to do all the real work. It is a fine thoroughfare and no doubt of the
+highest use, but what beautiful narrow streets of old houses it must
+have destroyed! We may note in the Rue St. Martin the pretty fountain
+at No. 122, and the curious old house at No. 164, and leave it at the
+church of St. Nicholas-des-Champs, no longer in the fields any more
+than London's St. Martin's is.
+
+And now after so many houses let us see some pictures!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS
+
+     The Winged Victory of Samothrace--Botticelli's
+     Fresco--Luini--Ingres--The Salon Carre--La Joconde--Leonardo
+     da Vinci--Pater, Lowell and Vasari--Early Collectors--Paul
+     Veronese--Copyists--The Salle des Primitifs--The Grande
+     Galerie--Landor's Pictorial Creed--The Great
+     Schools--Rembrandt--Van Dyck and Rubens--Amazing
+     Abundance--The Dutch Masters--The Drawings.
+
+
+It is on the first landing of the Escalier Daru, at the end of the
+Galerie Denon, that one of the most priceless treasures of the
+Louvre--one of the most splendid things in the world--is to be found:
+it has been before us all the way along the Galerie Denon, that avenue
+of noble bronzes, the first thing that caught the eye: I mean the
+"Winged Victory of Samothrace". Every one has seen photographs or
+models of this majestic and exquisite figure, but it must be studied
+here if one is to form a true estimate of the magical mastery of the
+sculptor. The Victory is headless and armless and much mutilated; but
+that matters little. She stands on the prow of a trireme, and for
+every one who sees her with any imagination must for all time be the
+symbol of triumphant and splendid onset. The figure no doubt weighs
+more than a ton--and is as light as air. The "Meteor" in a strong
+breeze with all her sails set and her prow foaming through the waves
+does not convey a more exciting idea of commanding and buoyant
+progress. But that comparison wholly omits the element of
+conquest--for this is essential Victory as well.
+
+The statue dates from the fourth century B.C. It was not discovered
+until 1863, in Samothrace. Paris is fortunate indeed to possess not
+only the Venus of Milo but this wonder of art--both in the same
+building.
+
+Before entering the picture galleries proper, let us look at two other
+exceedingly beautiful things also on this staircase--the two frescoes
+from the Villa Lemmi, but particularly No. 1297 on the left of the
+entrance to Gallery XVI., which represents Giovanna Tornabuoni and the
+Cardinal Virtues, and is by Sandro Filipepi, whom we call Botticelli.
+For this exquisite work alone would I willingly cross the Channel even
+in a gale, such is its charm. A reproduction of it will be found
+opposite page 20, but it gives no impression of the soft delicacy of
+colouring: its gentle pinks and greens and purples, its kindly reds
+and chestnut browns. One should make a point of looking at these
+frescoes whenever one is on the staircase, which will be often.
+
+The ordinary entrance to the picture galleries of the Louvre is
+through the photographic vestibule on the right of the Winged Victory
+as you face it, leading to the Salle Duchatel, notable for such
+differing works as frescoes by Luini and two pictures by
+Ingres--representing the beginning and end of his long and austere
+career. The Luinis are delightful--very gay and, as always with this
+tender master, sweet--especially "The Nativity," which is reproduced
+opposite page 16. The Ingres' (which were bequeathed by the Comtesse
+Duchatel after whom the room is named) are the "OEdipus solving the
+riddle of the Sphinx," dated 1808, when the painter was twenty-eight,
+and the "Spring," which some consider his masterpiece, painted in
+1856. He lived to be eighty-six. English people have so few
+opportunities of seeing the work of this master (we have in oils only
+a little doubtful portrait of Malibran, very recently acquired, which
+hangs in the National Gallery) that he comes as a totally new
+craftsman to most of us; and his severity may not always please. But
+as a draughtsman he almost takes the breath away, and no one should
+miss the pencil heads, particularly a little saucy lady, from his hand
+in the His de la Salle collection of drawings in another part of the
+Louvre.
+
+In the Salle Duchatel is also a screen of drawings with a very
+beautiful head by Botticelli in it--No. 48. From the rooms we then
+pass to the Salon Carre (so called because it is square, and not, as I
+heard one American explaining to another, after the celebrated
+collector Carre who had left these pictures to the nation), and this
+is, I suppose, for its size, the most valuable gallery in the world.
+It is doubtful if any other combination of collections, each
+contributing of its choicest, could compile as remarkable a room, for
+the "Monna Lisa," or "La Joconde," Leonardo da Vinci's portrait of the
+wife of his friend Francesco del Giocondo, which is its greatest glory
+and perhaps the greatest glory of all Paris too, would necessarily be
+missing.
+
+  [Illustration: THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+Paris without this picture would not be the Paris that we know, or the
+Paris that has been since 1793 when "La Joconde" first became the
+nation's property--ever more to smile her inscrutable smile and exert
+her quiet mysterious sway, not only for kings and courtiers but for
+all. When all is said, it is Leonardo who gives the Louvre its special
+distinction as a picture gallery. Without him it would still be
+magnificent: with him it is priceless and sublime. For not only are
+there the "Monna Lisa" and (also in the Salon Carre) the sweet and
+beautiful "Madonna and Saint Anne," but in the next, the Grande
+Galerie, are his "Virgin of the Rocks," a variant of the only Leonardo
+in our National Gallery, and the "Bacchus" (so like the "John the
+Baptist") and the "John the Baptist" (so like the "Bacchus") and the
+portrait of the demure yet mischievous Italian lady who is supposed to
+be Lucrezia Crivelli, and who (in spite of the yellowing ravages of
+time) once seen is never forgotten.
+
+The Louvre has all these (together with many drawings), but above all
+it has the Monna Lisa, of which what shall I say? I feel that I can
+say nothing. But here are two descriptions of the picture, or rather
+two descriptions of the emotions produced by the picture on two very
+different minds. These I may quote as expressing, between them, all. I
+will begin with that of Walter Pater: "As we have seen him using
+incidents of sacred story, not for their own sake, or as mere subjects
+for pictorial realisation, but as a cryptic language for fancies all
+his own, so now he found a vent for his thought in taking one of these
+languid women, and raising her, as Leda or Pomona, as Modesty or
+Vanity, to the seventh heaven of symbolical expression.
+
+"_La Gioconda_ is, in the truest sense, Leonardo's masterpiece, the
+revealing instance of his mode of thought and work. In suggestiveness,
+only the _Melancholia_ of Duerer is comparable to it; and no crude
+symbolism disturbs the effect of its subdued and graceful mystery. We
+all know the face and hands of the figure, set in its marble chair, in
+that circle of fantastic rocks, as in some faint light under sea.
+Perhaps of all ancient pictures time has chilled it least.[1] As often
+happens with works in which invention seems to reach its limit, there
+is an element in it given to, not invented by, the master. In that
+inestimable folio of drawings, once in the possession of Vasari, were
+certain designs by Verrocchio, faces of such impressive beauty that
+Leonardo in his boyhood copied them many times. It is hard not to
+connect with these designs of the elder, by-past master, as with its
+germinal principle, the unfathomable smile, always with a touch of
+something sinister on it, which plays over all Leonardo's work.
+Besides, the picture is a portrait. From childhood we see this image
+defining itself on the fabric of his dreams; and but for express
+historical testimony, we might fancy that this was but his ideal lady,
+embodied and beheld at last. What was the relationship of a living
+Florentine to this creature of his thought? By what strange affinities
+had the dream and the person grown up thus apart, and yet so closely
+together? Present from the first incorporeally in Leonardo's brain,
+dimly traced in the designs of Verrocchio, she is found present at
+last in _Il Giocondo's_ house. That there is much of mere portraiture
+in the picture is attested by the legend that by artificial means, the
+presence of mimes and flute-players, that subtle expression was
+protracted on the face. Again, was it in four years and by renewed
+labour never really completed, or in four months and as by stroke of
+magic, that the image was projected?
+
+"The presence that rose thus so strangely beside the waters, is
+expressive of what in the ways of a thousand years men had come to
+desire. Hers is the head upon which all 'the ends of the world are
+come,' and the eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out
+from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of
+strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions. Set it
+for a moment beside one of those white Greek Goddesses or beautiful
+women of antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this beauty,
+into which the soul with all its maladies has passed! All the thoughts
+and experience of the world have etched and moulded there, in that
+which they have of power to refine and make expressive the outward
+form, the animalism of Greece, the lust of Rome, the mysticism of the
+middle age with its spiritual ambition and imaginative loves, the
+return of the Pagan world, the sins of the Borgias. She is older than
+the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead
+many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver
+in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for
+strange webs with Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of
+Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this
+has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only
+in the delicacy with which it has moulded the changing lineaments, and
+tinged the eyelids and the hands. The fancy of a perpetual life,
+sweeping together ten thousand experiences, is an old one; and modern
+philosophy has conceived the idea of humanity as wrought upon by, and
+summing up in itself, all modes of thought and life. Certainly Lady
+Lisa might stand as the embodiment of the old fancy, the symbol of the
+modern idea."
+
+  [1] Yet for Vasari there was further magic of crimson in the
+      lips and cheeks, lost for us. _Pater's note._
+
+This was what the picture meant for Pater; whether too much, is beside
+the mark. Pater thought it and Pater wrote it, and that is enough. To
+others, who are not as Pater, it says less, and possibly more. This,
+for example, is what "Monna Lisa" suggested to one of the most
+distinguished and civilised minds of our time--James Russell Lowell:--
+
+     She gave me all that woman can,
+     Nor her soul's nunnery forego,
+     A confidence that man to man
+     Without remorse can never show.
+
+     Rare art, that can the sense refine
+     Till not a pulse rebellious stirs,
+     And, since she never can be mine,
+     Makes it seem sweeter to be hers!
+
+Finally, since we cannot (I believe) spend too much time upon this
+picture, let me quote Vasari's account of it. "For Francesco del
+Giocondo, Leonardo undertook to paint the portrait of Monna Lisa, his
+wife, but, after loitering over it for four years, he finally left it
+unfinished. This work is now in the possession of the King Francis of
+France, and is at Fontainebleau. Whoever shall desire to see how far
+art can imitate nature may do so to perfection in this head, wherein
+every peculiarity that could be depicted by the utmost subtlety of the
+pencil has been faithfully reproduced. The eyes have the lustrous
+brightness and moisture which is seen in life, and around them are
+those pale, red, and slightly livid circles, also proper to nature,
+with the lashes, which can only be copied, as these are, with the
+greatest difficulty; the eyebrows also are represented with the
+closest exactitude, where fuller and where more thinly set, with the
+separate hairs delineated as they issue from the skin, every turn
+being followed, and all the pores exhibited in a manner that could
+not be more natural than it is: the nose, with its beautiful and
+delicately roseate nostrils, might be easily believed to be alive; the
+mouth, admirable in its outline, has the lips uniting the rose-tints
+of their colour with that of the face, in the utmost perfection, and
+the carnation of the cheek does not appear to be painted, but truly of
+flesh and blood; he who looks earnestly at the pit of the throat
+cannot but believe that he sees the beating of the pulses, and it may
+be truly said that this work is painted in a manner well calculated to
+make the boldest master tremble, and astonishes all who behold it,
+however well accustomed to the marvels of art.
+
+"Monna Lisa was exceedingly beautiful, and while Leonardo was painting
+her portrait, he took the precaution of keeping some one constantly
+near her, to sing or play on instruments, or to jest and otherwise
+amuse her, to the end that she might continue cheerful, and so that
+her face might not exhibit the melancholy expression often imparted by
+painters to the likenesses they take. In this portrait of Leonardo's,
+on the contrary, there is so pleasing an expression, and a smile so
+sweet, that while looking at it one thinks it rather divine than
+human, and it has ever been esteemed a wonderful work, since life
+itself could exhibit no other appearance."
+
+  [Illustration: LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA
+    LEONARDO DA VINCI
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+King Francis I. (who met our Henry VIII. on the Field of the Cloth of
+Gold) bought the picture of Monna Lisa from the artist for a sum of
+money equal now to L20,000. It was on a visit to Francis that
+Leonardo died. "Monna Lisa" was the most valuable picture in the
+cabinet of Francis I. and was first hung there in 1545. It is very
+interesting to think that this work, the peculiar glory of the
+Gallery, should also be its nucleus, so to speak. The Venus of Milo
+and the Winged Victory, which I have grouped with "Monna Lisa" as its
+chief treasures, were not added until the last century.
+
+Among other pictures in the Louvre which date from the inception of a
+royal collection in the brain of Francis I. are the "Virgin of the
+Rocks" by Leonardo, Raphael's "Sainte Famille" (No. 1498) and "Saint
+Michael," Andrea del Sarto's "Charite" and Piombo's "Visitation".
+Louis XIII. began his reign with about fifty pictures and increased
+them to two hundred, while under Louis XIV., the Louvre's most
+conspicuous friend, the royal collection grew from these two hundred
+to two thousand--assisted greatly by Colbert the financier, who bought
+for the Crown not only much of the collection of the banker Jabach of
+Cologne, the Pierpont Morgan of his day, who had acquired the art
+treasures of our own Charles I., but also the Mazarin bibelots. Under
+Louis XIV. and succeeding monarchs the pictures oscillated between the
+Louvre, the Luxembourg and Versailles. The Revolution centralised them
+in the Louvre, and on 8th November, 1793, the collection was made over
+to the public. During the first Republic one hundred thousand francs a
+year were set aside for the purchase of pictures.
+
+But we are in the Salon Carre. Close beside "La Joconde" is that
+Raphael which gives me personally more pleasure than any of his
+pictures--the portrait, beautiful in greys and blacks, of Count
+Baldassare Castiglione, reproduced opposite page 52; here is a
+Correggio (No. 1117) bathed in a glory of light; here is a golden
+Giorgione; here is an allegory by Titian (No. 1589) not so
+miraculously coloured as the Correggio but wonderfully rich and
+beautiful; here is a little princess by Velasquez; and near it a
+haunting portrait of a young man (No. 1644) which has been attributed
+to many hands, but rests now as the work of Francia Bigio. I reproduce
+it opposite page 70. And that is but a fraction of the treasures of
+the Salon Carre. For there are other Titians, notably the portrait
+(No. 1592) of a young man with a glove (reproduced opposite page 64)
+marked by a beautiful gravity; other Raphaels, more characteristic,
+including "La Belle Jardiniere" (No. 1496), filled with a rich deep
+calm; the sweetest Luini that I remember (No. 1354), and the immense
+"Marriage at Cana" by Paolo Veronese, which when I saw it recently was
+being laboriously engraved on copper by a gentleman in the middle of
+the room. It was odd to watch so careful a piece of translation in the
+actual making--to see Veronese's vast scene with its rich colouring
+and tremendous energy coming down into spider-like scratches on two
+square feet of hard metal. I did not know that such patience was any
+longer exercised. This picture, by the way, has a double
+interest--the general and the particular. As Whistler said of
+Switzerland, you may both admire the mountain and recognise the
+tourist on the top. It is full of portraits. The bride at the end of
+the table is Eleanor of Austria; at her side is Francis I. (who found
+his way into as many pictures as most men); next to him, in yellow, is
+Mary of England. The Sultan Suliman I. and the Emperor Charles V. are
+not absent. The musicians are the artist and his friends--Paul himself
+playing the 'cello, Tintoretto the piccolo, Titian the bass viol, and
+Bassano the flute. The lady with a toothpick is (alas!) Vittoria
+Colonna.
+
+It is, by the way, always student-day at the Louvre--at least I never
+remember to have been there, except on Sundays, when copyists were not
+at work. Many of the copies are being made to order as altar pieces in
+new churches and for other definite purposes. Not all, however! A
+newspaper paragraph lying before me states that the authorities of the
+Louvre have five hundred unfinished copies on their hands, abandoned
+by their authors so thoroughly as never to be inquired for again. I am
+not surprised.
+
+From the Salle Carre we enter the Grande Galerie, which begins with
+the Florentine School, and ends, a vast distance away, with Rembrandt.
+But first it is well to turn into the little Salle des Primitifs
+Italiens, a few steps on the right, for here are very rare and
+beautiful things: Botticelli's "Madonna with a child and John the
+Baptist" (No. 1296); Domenico Ghirlandaio's "Portrait of an old man
+and a boy" (No. 1322), which I reproduce opposite page 136, that
+triumph of early realism, and his "Visitation" (No. 1321), with its
+joyful colouring, culminating in a glorious orange gown; Benedetto
+Ghirlandaio's "Christ on the way to Golgotha" (No. 1323, on the
+opposite wall), a fine hard red picture; two little Piero di Cosimos
+(on each side of the door), very mellow and gay--representing scenes
+in the marriage of Thetis and Peleus; Fra Filippo Lippi's "Madonna and
+Child with two sainted abbots" (No. 1344), and the "Nativity" next it
+(No. 1343); a sweet and lovely "Virgin and Child" (No. 1345) of the
+Fra Filippo Lippi school; another, also very beautiful, by Mainardi
+(No. 1367); a canvas of portraits, including Giotto and the painter
+himself, by Paolo Uccello (No. 1272), the very picture described by
+Vasari in the _Lives_; and Giotto's scenes in the life of St. Francis,
+in the frame of which, as we shall see, I once, for historical
+comparison, slipped the photograph of M. Henri Pol, charmeur des
+oiseaux. These I name; but much remains that will appeal even more to
+others.
+
+To walk along the Grande Galerie is practically to traverse the
+history of art: Italian, Spanish, British, German, Flemish and Dutch
+paintings all hang here. Nothing is missing but the French, which,
+however, are very near at hand. Some lines of Landor which always come
+to my mind in a picture gallery I may quote hereabouts with peculiar
+fitness, and also with a desire to transfer the haunting--a very good
+one even if one does not agree with the reference to Rembrandt, which
+I do not:--
+
+     First bring me Raphael, who alone hath seen
+     In all her purity Heaven's Virgin Queen,
+     Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then
+     Titian, ennobler of the noblest men;
+     And next the sweet Correggio, nor chastise
+     His little Cupids for those wicked eyes.
+     I want not Rubens's pink puffy bloom,
+     Nor Rembrandt's glimmer in a dirty room
+     With these, nor Poussin's nymph-frequented woods
+     His templed heights and long-drawn solitudes.
+     I am content, yet fain would look abroad
+     On one warm sunset of Ausonian Claude.
+
+It is no province of this book to take the place of a catalogue; but I
+must mention a few pictures. The left wall is throughout, I may say,
+except in the case of the British pictures, the better. Here, very
+early, is the lovely "Holy Family" of Andrea del Sarto (No. 1515);
+here hang the four Leonardos which I have mentioned and certain of his
+derivatives; a beautiful Andrea Solario (No. 1530); a Lotto, very
+modern in feeling (No. 1350); a very striking "Salome" by Luini
+(1355), and the same painter's "Holy Family" (No. 1353); Mantegna; a
+fine Palma; Bellini; Antonello da Messina; more Titians, including
+"The Madonna with the rabbit" (No. 1578) and "Jupiter and Antiope"
+(No. 1587); a new portrait of a man in armour by Tintoretto, lately
+lent to the Louvre, one of his gravest and greatest; and so on to the
+sweet Umbrians--to Perugino and to Raphael, among whose pictures are
+two or three examples of his gay romantic manner, the most pleasing
+of which (No. 1509), "Apollo and Marsyas," is only conjecturally
+attributed to him.
+
+We pass then to Spain--to Murillo, who is represented here both in his
+rapturous saccharine and his realistic moods, "La Naissance de la
+Vierge" (No. 1710) and "Le Jeune Mendicant" (No. 1717); to Velasquez,
+who, however, is no longer credited with the lively sketch of Spanish
+gentlemen (No. 1734); and to Zurbaran, the strong and merciless.
+
+The British pictures are few but choice, including a very fine
+Raeburn, and landscapes by Constable and Bonington, two painters whom
+the French elevated to the rank of master and influence while we were
+still debating their merits. Such a landscape as "Le Cottage" (No.
+1806) by Constable, with its rich English simplicity, brings one up
+with a kind of start in the midst of so much grandiosity and pomp. It
+is out of place here, and yet one is very happy to see it. From
+Britain we pass to the Flemish and Germans--to perfect Holbeins,
+including an Erasmus and Duerer; to Rubens, who, however, comes later
+in his full force, and to the gross and juicy Jordaens.
+
+Then sublimity again; for here is Rembrandt of the Rhine. After
+Leonardo, Rembrandt is to me the glory of the Louvre, and especially
+the glory of the Grande Galerie, the last section of which is now hung
+with twenty-two of his works. Not one of them is perhaps superlative
+Rembrandt: there is nothing quite so fine as the portrait of
+Elizabeth Bas at the Ryks, or the "School of Anatomy" at the
+Mauritshuis, or the "Unjust Steward" at Hertford House; but how
+wonderful they are! Look at the miracle of the flying angel in the
+picture of Tobias--how real it is and how light! Look closely at the
+two little pictures of the philosopher in meditation. I have chosen
+the beautiful "Venus et L'Amour" and the "Pelerins d'Emmaus" for
+reproduction; but I might equally have taken others. They will be
+found opposite pages 146 and 154.
+
+On the other wall are a few pictures by Rembrandt's pupils and
+colleagues, such as Ferdinand Bol and Govaert Flinck, who were always
+on the track of the master; and more particularly Gerard Dou: note the
+old woman in his "Lecture de la Bible," for it is Rembrandt's mother,
+and also look carefully at "La Femme Hydropique," one of his most
+miraculously finished works--a Rembrandt through the small end of a
+telescope.
+
+From these we pass to the sumptuous Salle Van Dyck, which in its turn
+leads to the Salle Rubens, and one is again filled with wonder at the
+productivity of the twain--pupil and master. Did he never tire, this
+Peter Paul Rubens? Did a new canvas never deter or abash him? It seems
+not. No sooner was it set up in his studio than at it he must have
+gone like a charge of cavalry, magnificent in his courage, in his
+skill and in his brio. What a record! Has Rubens' square mileage ever
+been worked out, I wonder. He was very like a Frenchman: it is the
+vigour and spirit of Dumas at work with the brush. In the Louvre
+there are fifty-four attested works, besides many drawings; and it
+seems to me that I must have seen as many in Vienna, and as many in
+Dresden, and as many in Berlin, and as many in Antwerp, and as many in
+Brussels, to say nothing of the glorious landscape in Trafalgar
+Square. He is always overpowering; but for me the quieter, gentler
+brushes. None the less the portrait of Helene Fourment and their two
+children, in the Grande Galerie, although far from approaching that
+exquisite picture in the Liechtenstein Gallery in Vienna, when the
+boys were a little older, is a beautiful and living thing which one
+would not willingly miss.
+
+Van Dyck was, of course, more austere, less boisterous and abundant,
+but his record is hardly less amazing, and he seems to have faced
+life-size equestrian groups, such as the Charles the First here,
+without a tremor. The Charles is superb in his distinction and
+disdain; but for me, however, Van Dyck is the painter of single
+portraits, of which, no matter where I go, none seems more noble and
+satisfying than our own Cornelius Van Voorst in Trafalgar Square. But
+the "Dame et sa Fille," which is reproduced on the opposite page, is
+very beautiful.
+
+  [Illustration: UNE DAME ET SA FILLE
+    VAN DYCK
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+All round the Salle Rubens are arranged the little cabinets in which
+the small Dutch pictures hang--the Jan Steens and the Terburgs, the
+Hals' and the Metsus, the Ruisdaels and the Karel du Jardins, the
+Ostades and the golden Poelenburghs. Of these what can I say? There
+they are, in their hundreds, the least of them worth many minutes'
+scrutiny. But a few may be picked out: the Jan van Eyck (No. 1986) "La
+Vierge au Donateur," reproduced opposite page 166, in which the
+Chancellor Rollin reveres the Virgin on the roof of a tower, and small
+wild animals happily play around, and we see in the distance one of
+those little fairy cities so dear to the Flemish painter's
+imagination; David's "Noce de Cana"; Metsu's "Vierge et Enfant" the
+Memling and the Rogier van der Weyden, close by; Franz Hals'
+"Bohemienne," reproduced opposite page 186; Van der Heyden's lovely
+"Plaine de Haarlem" (No. 2382); Paul Potter's "Bois de La Haye" (No.
+2529), almost like a Diaz, and his little masterpiece No. 2526; the
+Terburgs: the "Music Lesson" (No. 2588) and the charming "Reading
+Lesson" (No. 2591) with the little touzled fair-haired boy in it,
+reproduced opposite page 206; Ruisdael's "Paysage dit le Coup de
+Soleil" (No. 2560); Hobbema's "Moulin a eau" (No. 2404); and, to my
+eyes, almost first of all, Vermeer of Delft's "Lacemaker" (No. 2456),
+reproduced opposite page 216. These are all I name.
+
+So much for the paintings by the masters of the world. The Louvre also
+has drawings from the same hands, which hang in their thousands in a
+series of rooms on the first floor, overlooking the Rue de Rivoli.
+Here, as I have said, are other Leonardos (look particularly at No.
+389), and here, too, are drawings by Raphael and Rembrandt, Correggio
+and Rubens (a child's head in particular), Domenico Ghirlandaio and
+Chardin, Mantegna and Watteau, Duerer and Ingres. I reproduce only
+one, a study attributed to the school of Fabriano, opposite page 228.
+Here one may spend a month in daily visits and wish never to break the
+habit. We have in England hardly less valuable and interesting
+drawings, but they are not to be seen in this way. One must visit the
+Print Room of the British Museum and ask for them one by one in
+portfolios. The Louvre, I think, manages it better.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES
+
+     The Early French Painters--Richard Parkes
+     Bonington--Chardin--Historical Paintings--Bonington
+     again--The Moreau Collection--The Thomy-Thierret
+     Collection--The Chauchard Collection.
+
+
+French pictures early and late now await us. On our way down the
+Grande Galerie we passed on the right two entrances to other rooms.
+Taking that one which is nearer the British School, we find ourselves
+in Salle IX., leading to Salle X. and so on to Galerie XVI., which
+completes the series. In Salle X. the beginnings of French art may be
+studied, and in particular the curious Japanese effects of the Ecole
+d'Avignon. Here also is very interesting work by Le Maitre de Moulins
+and a remarkable series of drawings in the case in the middle,
+representing the Siege of Troy. Salle XI. is notable for its portraits
+by Clouet and others; in Salle XII. we find Le Sueur, and in Salle
+XIII. the curious brothers Le Nain, of whom there are very interesting
+examples at the Ionides collection at South Kensington, but nothing
+better than the haymaking scene here, No. 542.
+
+French painting of the seventeenth century bursts upon us in the great
+Salle XIV. or Galerie Mollien, of which Nicolas Poussin and Ausonian
+Claude are the giants, thus completing Landor's pleasant list with
+which we entered the Grande Galerie in the last chapter. There are
+wonderful things here, but so crowded are they that I always feel lost
+and confused. There is, however, compensation and relief, for the room
+also contains one minute masterpiece which perhaps not more than five
+out of every thousand visitors have seen, and yet which can be studied
+with perfect quietness and leisure. This is a tiny water-colour in the
+revolving screen in the middle. There is much delicate work in this
+screen, dainty aquatint effects by the Dutchmen Ostade and Van der
+Heyden, Weenix and Borssom, and so forth; but finest of all (as so
+often happens) is a little richly-coloured drawing of Nottingham by
+Bonington, who, as we shall see, has a way of cropping up
+unsuspectedly and graciously in this great collection--and very
+rightly, since he owed so much to that Gallery. He was one of the
+youngest students ever admitted, being allowed to copy there at the
+age of fifteen, while at the Beaux Arts. That was in the year after
+Waterloo. There may in the history of the Gallery have been copyists
+equally young, but there can never have been one more distinguished or
+who had deeper influence on French art. Paris not only made
+Bonington's career but ended it, for it was while sketching in its
+streets ten years or more later that he met with the sunstroke which
+brought about his death when he was only twenty-seven, and stilled the
+marvellous hand for ever.
+
+Salle XV. is given up to portraits, among them--and shall I say chief
+of them, certainly chief of them in point of popularity--the adorable
+portrait of Madame Elizabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun and her daughter,
+painted by herself, which is perhaps the best-known French picture,
+and of which I give a reproduction opposite page 246. On a screen in
+this room are placed the latest acquisitions. When last I was there
+the more noticeable pictures were a portrait by Romney of himself,
+rich and melancholy, recalling to the mind Tennyson's monologue, and a
+sweet and ancient religieuse by Memling. There were also some Corot
+drawings, not perhaps so good as those in the Moreau collection, but
+very beautiful, and a charming old-world lady by Fragonard. These
+probably are by this time distributed over the galleries, and other
+new arrivals have taken their place. I hope so.
+
+Galerie XVI., which leads out of the Salle des Portraits, brings us to
+French art of the eighteenth century--to Greuze and David, to
+Fragonard and Watteau, to Lancret and Boucher, and, to my mind, most
+charming, most pleasure-giving of all, to Jean Baptiste Simeon
+Chardin, who is to be seen in perfection here and in the distant room
+which contains the Collection La Caze. It is probable that no painter
+ever had quite so much charm as this kindly Frenchman, whose loving
+task it was to sweeten and refine homely Dutch art. Chardin is the
+most winsome of all painters: his brush laid a bloom on domestic life.
+The Louvre has twenty-eight of his canvases, mostly still-life,
+distributed between the Salle La Caze and Salle No. XVI., where we now
+are. The most charming of all, which is to be seen in the Salle La
+Caze, is reproduced opposite page 234.
+
+Having walked down the left wall of the Salle, it is well to slip out
+at the door at the end for a moment and refresh oneself with another
+view of Botticelli's fresco, which is just outside, before returning
+by the other wall, as we have to go back through the Salle des
+Portraits in order to examine Salle VIII., a vast room wholly filled
+with French paintings of the first half of the nineteenth century,
+bringing the nation's art to the period more or less at which the
+Luxembourg takes it up, though there is a certain amount of
+overlapping. No room in the Louvre so wants weeding and re-hanging as
+this, for it is a sad jumble. Search, however, for the magnificent
+examples by the great _plein-airistes_. They are lost in this
+wilderness; but there they are for those that seek--the two vast
+Troyons; Corot's magic "Souvenir de Castel-Gondolfon"; a great
+Daubigny, "Les Vendances de Bourgogne," very hard and fine, and the
+same gigantic painter's large and lovely harvest scene, "Le Moisson";
+Rousseau's "Sortie de Foret," not unlike the Rousseau in the Wallace
+Collection in London, with its natural archway of branches and rich
+tenderness of colour; the sublime "La Vague," by Courbet; lastly
+Millet's "Les Glaneuses," the three stooping women in the cornfield
+who come to the inward eye almost as readily as the figures in the
+"Angelus". The red, blue and yellow of their head-kerchiefs alone
+would make this picture worth a millionaire's ransom.
+
+We leave the room by the door opposite that through which we came and
+find ourselves again in the Grande Galerie. The way now is to the
+left, through the Italian Schools, through the Salon Carre (why not
+stay there and let French art go hang?) through the Galerie d'Apollon
+(of which more anon), through the Rotunda and the Salle des Bijoux
+(whither we shall return), to another crowded late eighteenth and
+early nineteenth century French room chiefly notable for David's
+Madame Recamier on her joyless little sofa. (Why didn't we stay in the
+Salon Carre?) In this room also are two large Napoleonic pictures--one
+by Gros representing General Bonaparte visiting the plague victims at
+Jaffa in 1799; the other, by David, of the consecration service in
+Notre Dame, described in an earlier chapter. To see this kind of
+picture, at which the French have for many years been extremely apt,
+one must of course go to Versailles, where the history of France is
+spread lavishly over many square miles of canvas.
+
+From this room--La Salle des Sept Cheminees--we pass through a little
+vestibule, with Courbet's great village funeral in it, to the very
+pleasant Salle La Caze, containing the greater part of the collection
+of the late Dr. La Caze, and notable chiefly for the Chardins of which
+I have already spoken, and also, by the further door, for a haunting
+"Buste de femme" attributed to the Milanese School. But there are
+other admirable pictures here, including a Velasquez, and it repays
+study.
+
+Leaving by the further door and walking for some distance, we come to
+the His de la Salle collection of drawings, from which we gain the
+Collection Thiers, which should perhaps be referred to here, although
+there is not the slightest necessity to see it at all. The Thiers
+collection, which occupies two rooms, is remarkable chiefly for its
+water-colour copies of great paintings. The first President of the
+Republic employed patient artists to make copies suitable for hanging
+upon his walls of such inaccessible works as the "Last Judgment" of
+Michael Angelo and Raphael's Dresden Madonna. The results are
+certainly extraordinary, even if they are not precisely la guerre. The
+Arundel Society perhaps found its inspiration in this collection.
+Among the originals there is a fine Terburg.
+
+On leaving the Thiers collection, one comes to a narrow passage with a
+little huddle of water-colours, very badly treated as to light and
+space, and well worth more consideration. These pictures should not be
+missed, for among them are two Boningtons, a windmill in a sombre
+landscape, which I reproduce opposite page 274, and next to it a
+masterly drawing of the statue of Bartolomme Colleoni at Venice, which
+Ruskin called the finest equestrian group in the world. Bonington, who
+had the special gift of painting great pictures in small compass (just
+as there are men who can use a whole wall to paint a little picture
+on), has made a drawing in which the original sculptor would have
+rejoiced. It would do the Louvre authorities good if these Boningtons,
+which they treat so carelessly, were stolen. Nothing could be easier;
+I worked out the felony as I stood there. All that one would need
+would be a few friends equally concerned to teach the Louvre a lesson,
+behind whose broad backs one could ply the diamond and the knife. Were
+I a company promoter this is how I should spend my leisure hours. Such
+theft is very nigh virtue.
+
+Among other pictures in these bad little rooms--Nos. XVII. and
+XVIII.--are some Millets and Decamps.
+
+Three more collections--and these really more interesting than
+anything we saw in Galeries XIV. or XVI., or the Salle des Sept
+Cheminees--await us; but two of them need considerable powers of
+perambulation. Chronology having got us under his thumb we must make
+the longer journey first--to the Collection Moreau. The Collection
+Moreau is to be found at the top of the Musee des Arts Decoratifs, the
+entrance to which is in the Rue de Rivoli. In the lower part of this
+building are held periodical exhibitions; but the upper parts are
+likely at any rate for a long time to remain unchanged, and here are
+wonderful collections of furniture, and here hang the few but select
+canvases brought together by Adolphe Moreau and his son, and presented
+to the nation by M. Etienne Moreau-Nelaton.
+
+In the Thomy-Thierret collection in another top storey of the same
+inexhaustible palace (to which our fainting feet are bound) are Corots
+of the late period; M. Moreau bought the earlier. Here, among nearly
+forty others, you may see that portrait of Corot painted in 1825, just
+before he left for Rome, which his parents exacted from him in return
+for their consent to his new career and the abandonment of their rosy
+dreams of his success as a draper. Here you may see "Un Moine," one of
+the first pictures he was able to sell--for five hundred francs
+(twenty pounds). Here is the charming marine "La Rochelle" painted in
+1851 and given by Corot to Desbarolles and by Desbarolles to the
+younger Dumas. Here is the very beautiful Pont de Mantes, reproduced
+opposite page 252, belonging to his later manner, and here also is an
+exceptionally merry little sketch, "Bateau de peche a maree basse". I
+mention these only, since selection is necessary; but everything that
+Corot painted becomes in time satisfying to the student and
+indispensable to its owner. Among the pencil drawings we find this
+exquisite lover of nature once more, with fifteen studies of his
+Mistress.
+
+One of the most interesting of the Moreau pictures is Fantin-Latour's
+"Hommage a Delacroix," with its figures of certain of the great and
+more daring writers and painters of the day, 1864, the year after
+Delacroix's death. They are grouped about his framed portrait--Manet,
+red haired and red bearded, a little like Mr. Meredith in feature;
+Whistler, with his white feather black and vigorous, and his hand on
+the historical cane; Legros (the only member of the group who is still
+living, and long may he live!) and Baudelaire, for all the world like
+an innocent professor. Manet himself is represented here by his famous
+"Dejeuner sur l'herbe," which the scandalised Salon of 1863 refused to
+hang, and three smaller canvases. Among the remaining pictures which
+gave me most pleasure are Couture's portrait of Adolphe Moreau the
+younger; Daumier's "La Republique"; Carriere's "L'enfant a la
+soupiere" (notice the white bowl); Decamps' "La Battue," curiously
+like a Koninck; and Troyon's "Le Passage du Gue," so rich and sweet.
+
+From the Collection Moreau, with its early Barbizon pictures, one
+ought to pass to the Chauchard with its middle period, and then to the
+Collection Thomy-Thierret; but let us go to the Thomy-Thierret now. It
+needs courage and endurance, for the room which contains these
+exquisite pictures is only to be reached on foot after climbing many
+stairs and walking for what seem to be many miles among models of
+ships and other neglected curiosities on the Louvre's topmost floor.
+But once the room is reached one is perfectly happy, for every picture
+is a gem and there is no one there. M. Thomy-Thierret, who died quite
+recently, was a collector who liked pictures to be small, to be rich
+in colour, and to be painted by the Barbizon and Romantic Schools.
+Here you may see twelve Corots, all of a much later period than those
+bequeathed by M. Moreau, among them such masterpieces as "Le Vallon"
+(No. 2801), reproduced opposite the next page, "Le Chemin de Sevres"
+(No. 2803), "Entree de Village" (No. 2808), "Les Chaumieres" (No.
+2809), and "La Route d'Arras" (No. 2810). Here are thirteen Daubignys,
+including "Les Graves de Villerville" (No. 28,177), and one sombre and
+haunting English scene--"La Tamise a Erith" (No. 2821). Here are ten
+Diazes, most beautiful of which to my eyes is "L'Eploree" (No. 2863).
+Here are ten Rousseaus, among them "Le Printemps" (No. 2903), with
+its rapturous freshness, which I reproduce opposite page 120, and "Les
+Chenes" (No. 2900), such a group of trees as Rousseau alone could
+paint. Here are six Millets, my favourite being the "Precaution
+Maternelle" (No. 2894), with its lovely blues, which again reappear in
+"Le Vanneur" (No. 2893). Here are eleven Troyons, of which "La
+Provende des poules" (No. 2907), with its bustle of turkeys and
+chickens around the gay peasant girl beneath a burning sky, reproduced
+opposite page 266, is one of the first pictures to which my feet carry
+me on my visits to Paris. Here are twelve Dupres, most memorable of
+which is "Les Landes" (No. 2871). And here also are Delacroix',
+Isabeys and Meissoniers.
+
+The Chauchard pictures--140 in number--which are now hanging in five
+rooms leading from the Salle Rubens, were bequeathed to the nation by
+M. Alfred Chauchard, proprietor of the Magasins du Louvre (which some
+visitors to Paris have considered the only Louvre). Among the pictures
+are twenty-six by Corot, twenty-six by Meissonier, eight by Millet
+(including "L'Angelus") and eight by Daubigny.
+
+  [Illustration: LE VALLON
+    COROT
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+I may say at once that the Chauchard Collection does not compare with
+the Thomy-Thierret in courage. M. Thomy-Thierret liked his pictures to
+be small and exquisite and happy. Within the limits imposed the
+Barbizon painters never did anything more delightful or indeed better.
+The whole collection--and it is beyond price--is homogeneous: it
+embodies the taste of one man. M. Moreau and his son had a robuster
+taste, a bolder eye. They wanted strength as well as sweetness, or
+strength alone. Their collection has not quite the homogeneity of the
+Thomy-Thierret, but one feels here also that personality has honestly
+been at work bringing together things of beauty and power that pleased
+it, and nothing else. But M. Chauchard....
+
+It is perfectly evident in a moment that M. Chauchard had neither
+knowledge nor taste. He merely had acumen. At a certain moment in his
+successful life, one feels, M. Chauchard extended himself before the
+fire-place, stroked his spreading _favoris_ (so like those of our own
+Whiteley), and announced "I must have some pictures". Other prosperous
+men saying the same thing have forthwith taken their courage in their
+hands and bought pictures; but M. Chauchard as I see him (both in his
+dazzling marble bust and in the portrait by Benjamin Constant), was
+not like that. "I must have some pictures," he announced, and then
+quickly reverted to type and cast about as to the best means of
+discovering whose pictures were most worth buying. That is how the
+Chauchard Collection came about, if I am not mistaken: it was the
+venture of an essentially commercial man--an investor-in-grain--who
+also desired a reputation of virtuosity but did not want to lose money
+over it.
+
+As it happens M. Chauchard was well advised. But wonderful as they
+are, beautiful as they are, valuable as they are, there is not a
+picture here which suggests to the visitor that it ever brought a real
+gladness to the eyes of its owner in his own home.
+
+But I can convince you only too easily that M. Chauchard had no taste.
+Do you remember when driving out to Longchamp, through the Bois,
+either to the Races or to Suresnes, just after you pass the Cascade,
+you come on the left to a windmill overlooking the course, and on the
+right to a white villa, all alone and unreal? A club house, one
+naturally thinks it, for the French Jockey Club, or something of that
+kind. You may have forgotten the villa, but you will recall it when I
+say that on the very trim vivid lawn in front of it, scattered about,
+supposed to be counterfeiting life, are various animals in stone--a
+stag, a doe, some dogs, all white and motionless, in the best mortuary
+manner, and all, to you and me, outrageous. Well, that was one of M.
+Chauchard's homes. M. Chauchard was the owner of that lawn and its
+occupants. The man who looking out of his window could feast his eye
+on these triumphs of the monumental mason was the same man who bought
+for his walls sheep by Jacque and Millet, and cattle and dogs by
+Troyon....
+
+No matter. M. Chauchard acquired pictures and left them to the French
+Nation, and they are now on view for ever (always excepting the fatal
+Continental Mondays) for all to rejoice in. The first really
+compellingly beautiful work as one enters--the first picture to touch
+the emotions--is Rousseau's "La Charrette". It was painted in 1862,
+five years before the painter's death, which left the villagers of
+Barbizon the richer by a studio-chapel. It is a mere trifle and it is
+as wonderful as a summer day: a forest glade, in the midst of which a
+tiny wagon and white horse with blue trappings are seen beneath a
+burning sky, such a picture as ought to have a wall if not a room to
+itself: such a picture as I should like to see placed above an altar.
+It is the same subject--a forest wagon--that provided what in some
+ways is the best or most attractive Corot here. His "La Charrette" is
+a large easy landscape lit by the gracious light of which he alone had
+the secret. In the foreground is a deep sandy road with the charrette
+labouring through it. But before we came to this we had stood before
+one of the finest of the seven Daubignys, "La Seine a Bezons," a river
+scene of almost terrible calm, with Mont Valerien in the distance and
+geese and boats on the near shore, and implicit in it the sincerity,
+strength and humility of this great man.
+
+At the end of the room hang two large and busy Troyons, one on each
+side of M. Chauchard himself, the donor of the feast, whose bust in
+the whitest Carrara, with the whiskers in full fig and the _croix de
+grand officier du Legion d'honneur_ meticulously carved upon it,
+stands here, as stipulated in the will. These two Troyons, of which
+there are eighteen in all, are I think the largest. One represents
+cows sauntering lazily down to drink; the other the return from the
+market of a mixed herd of cattle and sheep, with a donkey in panniers,
+being driven by a man on a white horse. As was his wont, Troyon chose
+a road on the edge of a cliff with a very green border of turf and an
+exquisite glimpse of sea to the left. None of the new Troyons perhaps
+is as fine as those in Salle VIII. of the Louvre proper, but this is a
+superb thing. The "Boeufs se rendant au labour" and the "Le Retour a
+la ferme" in Salle VIII. should be visited after the Chauchards.
+
+And so we leave the first and largest room, in the midst of which are
+two cases of Barye's bronzes--lions and tigers, bears and deer, snakes
+and birds--and enter the first room on the left as we came in; and
+here we begin to see for the first time pictures with special knots of
+people before them. For the Meissoniers begin here. And of Meissonier
+what am I to say? For Meissonier leaves me cold. He is marvellous; but
+he leaves me cold. He painted with a fidelity and spirit that border
+on the magical; but those qualities that I want in a picture, those
+callings of deep to deep, one seeks in vain. Hence I say nothing of
+Meissonier, except that he was a master, that there are twenty-six of
+his masterpieces here, and that the crowd opposite his "1814" extends
+to the opposite side. How can one spend time over "Le cheval de
+l'ordonnance" and the "Petit Poste de Grand'-Garde" when Daubigny's
+"Les Laveuses (effet de soleil couchant)" hangs so near--this great
+placid green picture, so profoundly true as to be almost an act of
+God? Corot's "Etang de Ville d'Avray" is here too, liquid and tender.
+
+The little room that leads out of this is usually almost unenterable
+by reason of the press before Meissonier's "1814". This undoubtedly is
+one of the little great pictures of the world, and I can understand
+the enthusiasm of the French sightseer, whose blood is still stirrable
+by the enduring personality of the saturnine man on the white horse.
+Neighbouring pictures are a rich cattle piece by Diaz, immediately
+over "1814"; Rousseau's "La Mare," which is not a little like the
+Koninck in the Ionides Collection at South Kensington, and the same
+painter's "La Mare au pied du coteau" with its lovely middle distance.
+Here too is one of Corot's many _pecheurs_, who little knew as they
+fished on so quietly in the still gentle light that they were being
+rendered immortal by the quaint little bourgeois with the long pipe,
+sketching on the bank. One of the finest of the Dupres is also
+here--"La Vanne," a deep green scene of water.
+
+In the last room we come at last to that painter whose work, next
+perhaps to Meissonier's, is the magnet which draws such a steady
+stream of worshippers to this new shrine of art--to Jean Francois
+Millet. M. Chauchard had eight Millets, including the "Angelus," but
+though it is the "Angelus" which is considered of many to be the very
+core of this collection, I find more pleasure in "La Bergere gardant
+ses moutons" (reproduced opposite page 308), which I would call, I
+think, the best picture of all. It has been remarked that no picture
+containing sheep can ever be a bad picture; but when Millet paints
+them, and when they are grazing beneath such a sky, and when one of
+those grave sweet peasant women--a monument of patient acceptance and
+the humility that comes from the soil--is their shepherdess, why then
+it is almost too much; and the brave ardent Jacque, whose "Moutons au
+Paturage" hangs close by, is half suspected of theatricalism. Millet
+is so great, so full of large elemental simplicity and truth that one
+regrets that his eight pictures have not a room to themselves. That
+they should be elbowed by the neat dancing-master _chefs d'oeuvre_
+of Meissonier is something of a catastrophe.
+
+Thinking over the collection, I have very strongly the feeling already
+expressed that it was wrongly assembled. The investor rather than the
+enthusiast is too apparent. M. Chauchard, it is true, refrained from
+making money by his acquisitions, since he gave them to the nation,
+and this is eternally to his credit. None the less I find it difficult
+to esteem him as perhaps one should even in the light of a generous
+testator. One so wants pictures to be loved. And of all pictures that
+are lovable and that long to pass into their owner's being--to
+engentle his eyes and enrich his experience and deepen his
+nature--none equal those that were painted by the little group of
+friends who in the middle of the last century made the white-walled
+village of Barbizon their head-quarters and the Forest of
+Fontainebleau their happy hunting-ground and a Wordsworthian passion
+for nature their creed.
+
+Such pictures deserve the most faithful owners and the most thoughtful
+hospitality....
+
+But if we cannot get all as we wish it, at least we must be grateful
+for the next best thing, and to M. Chauchard and the Louvre
+authorities we must all be supremely grateful.
+
+The Louvre is to-day the most wonderful museum in the world; but what
+would one not give to be able to visit it as it was in 1814, when it
+was in some respects more wonderful still. For then it was filled with
+the spoils of Napoleon's armies, who had instructions always to bring
+back from the conquered cities what they could see that was likely to
+beautify and enrich France. It is a reason for war in itself. I would
+support any war with Austria, for example, that would bring to London
+Count Czernin's Vermeer and the Parmigianino in the Vienna National
+Gallery; any war with Germany that would put the Berlin National
+Gallery at our disposal. Napoleon had other things to fight for, but
+that comprehensive brain forgot nothing, and as he deposed a king he
+remembered a blank space in the Louvre that lacked a Raphael, an empty
+niche waiting for its Phidias. The Revolution decreed the Museum, but
+it was Napoleon who made it priceless and glorious. After the fall of
+this man a trumpery era of restitution set in. Many of his noble
+patriotic thefts were cancelled out. The world readjusted itself and
+shrank into its old pettiness. Priceless pictures and statues were
+carried again to Italy and Austria, Napoleon to St. Helena.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TUILERIES
+
+     A Vanished Palace--The Most Magnificent Vista--Enter Louis
+     XVI. and Marie Antoinette--The Massacre of the Swiss
+     Guards--The Blood of Paris--A Series of Disasters--The
+     Growth of Paris--The Napoleonic Rebuilders--The Arc de
+     Triomphe du Carrousel--The Irony of History--A Frock Coat
+     Rampant--The Statuary of Paris--The Gardens of the
+     Tuileries--Monsieur Pol, Charmer of Birds--The Parisian
+     Sparrow--Hyde Park--The Drum.
+
+
+Had we turned our back only thirty-eight years ago on Fremiet's statue
+of Joan of Arc (which was not there then) in the Place de Rivoli, and
+walked down what is now the Rue de Tuileries towards the Seine, we
+should have had on our left hand a beautiful and imposing
+building--the Palace of the Tuileries, which united the two wings of
+the Louvre that now terminate in the Pavillon de Marsan just by the
+Place de Rivoli and the Pavillon de Flore on the Quai des Tuileries.
+The palace stretched right across this interval, thus interrupting the
+wonderful vista of to-day from the old Louvre right away to the Arc de
+Triomphe--probably the most extraordinary and beautiful civilised, or
+artificial, vista in the world. The palace had, however, a
+sufficiently fine if curtailed share of it from its own windows.
+
+All Parisians upwards of forty-five must remember the Palace
+perfectly, for it was not destroyed until 1871, during the Commune,
+and it was some years after that incendiary period before all traces
+were removed and the gardens spread uninterruptedly from the Carrousel
+to the Concorde.
+
+The Palace of the Tuileries (so called because it occupied a site
+previously covered by tile kilns) was begun in 1564 and had therefore
+lived for three centuries. Catherine de Medicis planned it, but, as we
+shall read later, she lost interest in it very quickly owing to one of
+those inconvenient prophecies which were wont in earlier times so to
+embarrass rulers, but which to-day in civilised countries have
+entirely gone out. The Tuileries was a happy enough palace, as palaces
+go, until the Revolution: it then became for a while the very centre
+of rebellion and carnage; for Louis XVI. and the Royal Family were
+conveyed thither after the fatal oath had been sworn in the Versailles
+tennis-court. Then came the critical 10th of August, when the King
+consented to attend the conference in the Manege (now no more, but a
+tablet opposite the Rue Castiglione marks the spot) and thus lost
+everything.
+
+The massacre of the Swiss Guards followed: but here it is impossible,
+or at least absurd, not to hear Carlyle. Mandal, Commander of the
+National Guard, I would premise, has been assassinated by the crowd;
+the Constitutional Assembly sits in the Manege, and the King, a
+prisoner in the Tuileries, but still a hesitant and an optimist, is
+ordered to attend it. At last he consents. "King Louis sits, his hands
+leant on his knees, body bent forward; gazes for a space fixedly on
+Syndic Roederer; then answers, looking over his shoulder to the
+Queen: _Marchons!_ They march; King Louis, Queen, Sister Elizabeth,
+the two royal children and governess: these, with Syndic Roederer,
+and Officials of the Department; amid a double rank of National
+Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red Swiss gaze
+mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only these words from Syndic
+Roederer: 'The King is going to the Assembly; make way'. It has
+struck eight, on all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left the
+Tuileries--forever.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PARC MONCEAU]
+
+"O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black, for what a cause
+are ye to spend and be spent! Look out from the western windows, ye
+may see King Louis placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince
+Royal 'sportfully kicking the fallen leaves'. Fremescent multitude on
+the Terrace of the Feuillants whirls parallel to him; one man in it,
+very noisy, with a long pole: will they not obstruct the outer
+Staircase, and back-entrance of the Salle, when it comes to that?
+King's Guards can go no farther than the bottom step there. Lo,
+Deputation of Legislators come out; he of the long pole is stilled by
+oratory; Assembly's Guards join themselves to King's Guards, and all
+may mount in this case of necessity; the outer Staircase is free, or
+passable. See, Royalty ascends; a blue Grenadier lifts the poor
+little Prince Royal from the press; Royalty has entered in. Royalty
+has vanished for ever from your eyes.--And ye? Left standing there,
+amid the yawning abysses, and earthquake of Insurrection; without
+course; without command: if ye perish, it must be as more than
+martyrs, as martyrs who are now without a cause! The black Courtiers
+disappear mostly; through such issues as they can. The poor Swiss know
+not how to act: one duty only is clear to them, that of standing by
+their post; and they will perform that.
+
+"But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats now against the
+Chateau barriers and eastern Courts; irresistible, loud-surging far
+and wide;--breaks in, fills the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowed
+Marseillese in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the
+Assembly! Well and good: but till the Assembly pronounce Forfeiture of
+him, what boots it? Our post is in that Chateau or stronghold of his;
+there till then must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss, whether it
+were good that grim murder began, and brothers blasted one another in
+pieces for a stone edifice?--Poor Swiss! they know not how to act:
+from the southern windows, some fling cartridges, in sign of
+brotherhood; on the eastern outer staircase, and within through long
+stairs and corridors, they stand firm-ranked, peaceable and yet
+refusing to stir. Westermann speaks to them in Alsatian German;
+Marseillese plead, in hot Provencal speech and pantomime; stunning
+hubbub pleads and threatens, infinite, around. The Swiss stand
+fast, peaceable and yet immovable; red granite pier in that
+waste-flashing sea of steel.
+
+"Who can help the inevitable issue; Marseillese and all France on this
+side; granite Swiss on that? The pantomime grows hotter and hotter;
+Marseillese sabres flourishing by way of action; the Swiss brow also
+clouding itself, the Swiss thumb bringing its firelock to the cock.
+And hark! high thundering above all the din, three Marseillese cannon
+from the Carrousel, pointed by a gunner of bad aim, come rattling over
+the roofs! Ye Swiss, therefore: _Fire!_ The Swiss fire; by volley, by
+platoon, in rolling fire: Marseillese men not a few, and 'a tall man
+that was louder than any,' lie silent, smashed upon the pavement;--not
+a few Marseillese, after the long dusty march, have made halt _here_.
+The Carrousel is void; the black tide recoiling; 'fugitives rushing as
+far as Saint-Antoine before they stop'. The Cannoneers without
+linstock have squatted invisible, and left their cannon; which the
+Swiss seize....
+
+"Behold, the fire slackens not; nor does the Swiss rolling-fire
+slacken from within. Nay they clutched cannon, as we saw; and now,
+from the other side, they clutch three pieces more; alas, cannon
+without linstock; nor will the steel-and-flint answer, though they try
+it. Had it chanced to answer! Patriot onlookers have their misgivings;
+one strangest Patriot onlooker thinks that the Swiss, had they a
+commander, would beat. He is a man not unqualified to judge; the name
+of him Napoleon Buonaparte. And onlookers, and women, stand gazing,
+and the witty Dr. Moore of Glasgow among them, on the other side of
+the River: cannon rush rumbling past them; pause on the Pont Royal;
+belch out their iron entrails there, against the Tuileries; and at
+every new belch, the women and onlookers 'shout and clap hands'.
+City of all the Devils! In remote streets, men are drinking
+breakfast-coffee; following their affairs; with a start now and then,
+as some dull echo reverberates a note louder. And here? Marseillese
+fall wounded; but Barbaroux has surgeons; Barbaroux is close by,
+managing, though underhand and under cover. Marseillese fall
+death-struck; bequeath their firelock, specify in which pocket are the
+cartridges; and die murmuring, 'Revenge me, Revenge thy country!'
+Brest Federe Officers, galloping in red coats, are shot as Swiss. Lo
+you, the Carrousel has burst into flame!--Paris Pandemonium! Nay the
+poor City, as we said, is in fever-fit and convulsion: such crisis has
+lasted for the space of some half hour.
+
+"But what is this that, with Legislative Insignia, ventures through
+the hubbub and death-hail, from the back-entrance of the Manege?
+Towards the Tuileries and Swiss: written Order from his Majesty to
+cease firing! O ye hapless Swiss, why was there no order not to begin
+it? Gladly would the Swiss cease firing: but who will bid mad
+Insurrection cease firing? To Insurrection you cannot speak; neither
+can it, hydra-headed, hear. The dead and dying, by the hundred, lie
+all around; are borne bleeding through the streets, towards help; the
+sight of them, like a torch of the Furies, kindling Madness. Patriot
+Paris roars; as the bear bereaved of her whelps. On, ye Patriots:
+Vengeance! Victory or death! There are men seen, who rush on, armed
+only with walking-sticks. Terror and Fury rule the hour.
+
+"The Swiss, pressed on from without, paralysed from within, have
+ceased to shoot; but not to be shot. What shall they do? Desperate is
+the moment. Shelter or instant death: yet How, Where? One party flies
+out by the Rue de l'Echelle; is destroyed utterly, '_en entier_'. A
+second, by the other side, throws itself into the Garden; 'hurrying
+across a keen fusillade'; rushes suppliant into the National Assembly;
+finds pity and refuge in the back benches there. The third, and
+largest, darts out in column, three hundred strong, towards the Champs
+Elysees: 'Ah, could we but reach Courbevoye, where other Swiss are!'
+Wo! see, in such fusillade the column 'soon breaks itself by diversity
+of opinion,' into distracted segments, this way and that;--to escape
+in holes, to die fighting from street to street. The firing and
+murdering will not cease; not yet for long. The red Porters of Hotels
+are shot at, be they _Suisse_ by nature, or _Suisse_ only in name....
+
+"Surely few things in the history of carnage are painfuller. What
+ineffaceable red streak, flickering so sad in the memory, is that, of
+this poor column of red Swiss 'breaking itself in the confusion of
+opinions'; dispersing, into blackness and death! Honour to you,
+brave men; honourable pity, through long times! Not martyrs were ye;
+and yet almost more. He was no King of yours, this Louis; and he
+forsook you like a King of shreds and patches: ye were but sold to him
+for some poor sixpence a-day; yet would ye work for your wages, keep
+your plighted word. The work now was to die; and ye did it. Honour to
+you, O Kinsmen."
+
+  [Illustration: LE PRINTEMPS
+    ROUSSEAU
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+Is that too dreadful an association for this spot? It is terrible; but
+to visit Paris without any historical interest is too materialistic a
+proceeding, and to have the historical interest in Paris and be afraid
+of a little blood is an untenable position. Paris is steeped in blood.
+
+The Tuileries had not seen all its riot yet; July 29th, 1830, was to
+come, when, after another taste of monarchy, revived in 1814 after its
+murder on that appalling 10th of August (which was virtually its death
+day, although the date of the birth of the First Republic stands as
+September 21st, 1793), the mob attacked the Palace, the last Bourbon
+king, Charles X., fled from it and from France, and Louis-Philippe of
+Orleans mounted the throne in his stead. But that was not all. Another
+seventeen and a half years and revengeful time saw Louis-Philippe,
+last of the Orleans kings, escaping in his turn from another besieging
+crowd, and the establishment of the Second Republic.
+
+During the Second Empire some of the old splendour returned, and it
+was here, at the Tuileries, that Napoleon III. drew up many of his
+plans for the modern Paris that we now know; and then came the
+Prussian war and the Third Republic, and then the terrible Communard
+insurrection in the spring of 1871, in which the Tuileries disappeared
+for ever. Napoleon III., as I have said, assisted by Baron Haussmann,
+toiled in the great pacific task of renovating Paris, not with the
+imaginative genius of his uncle, but with an undeniable largeness and
+sagacity. He it was who added so greatly to the Louvre--all that part
+in fact opposite the Place du Palais Royal and the Magasins du Louvre
+as far west as the Rue de Rohan. A large portion of the corresponding
+wing on the river side was his too. But here is a list, since we are
+on the subject of modern Paris--which began with the great Napoleon's
+reconstruction of the ravages (beneficial for the most part) of the
+Revolutionaries--of the efforts made by each ruler since that epoch. I
+borrow the table from the Marquis de Rochegude.
+
+"Napoleon I.--Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, Vendome Column, Facade du
+Corps Legislatif, Commencement of the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, La
+Bourse, the Bridges d'Austerlitz, d'Iena, des Arts, de la Cite,
+several Markets, Quais d'Orsay, de Billy, du Louvre, Montebello, de la
+Tournelle; the Eastern and Northern Cemeteries; numbering the houses
+in 1806, begun without success in 1728; pavements in the streets and
+doing away with the streams or flowing gutters in the middle of the
+streets." (How like Napoleon to get the houses numbered on a clear
+system! Throughout Paris the odd numbers occupy one side of the street
+and the even the other. All are numbered from the Seine outwards.)
+
+"The Restoration.--Chapel Expiatoire, N.D. de Bonne-Nouvelle, N.D. de
+Lorette, St. Vincent de Paul; Bridges of the Invalides, of the
+Archbishopric, d'Arcole; Canals of St. Denis and St. Martin;
+fifty-five new streets; lighting by gas." (It was about 1828 that cabs
+came in. They were called fiacres from the circumstance that their
+originator carried on his business at the sign of the Grand St.
+Fiacre.)
+
+"Louis-Philippe, 1830-1848.--Finished the Madeleine, Arc de Triomphe,
+erected the Obelisk (Place de la Concorde), Column of July; Bridges:
+Louis-Philippe, Carrousel; Palace of the Quai d'Orsay; enlarged the
+Palais de Justice; restored Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle; Fountains:
+Louvois, Cuvier, St. Sulpice, Gaillon, Moliere; opened the Museums of
+Cluny and the Thermes. In 1843--1,100 streets.
+
+"Napoleon III., 1852-1870.--Embellished Paris--execution of
+Haussmann's plans, twenty-two new boulevards; Streets Lafayette,
+Quatre-Septembre, de Turbigo; Bvd. St. Germain; Rues des Ecoles, de
+Rivoli, the Champs Elysees Quarter, the Avenues Friedland, Hoche,
+Kleber, the Marceau, de L'Imperatrice, many squares; a part of new
+Louvre; Churches of St. Augustine, The Trinity, St. Ambroise, Ste.
+Clotilde (finishing of); Theatres, Chatelet, Lyrique, du Vaudeville;
+Tribunal of Commerce, Hotel Dieu, Barracks, Central Markets (also the
+ceinture railway); finishing of the Laribosiere hospital, the Fountain
+of St. Michel, the Bridges of Solferino, L'Alma, the Pont au Change.
+In 1861, 1,667,841 inhabitants.
+
+"The Commune.--Burning of the Tuileries, the Ministry of Finance, the
+Louvre Library, the Hotel de Ville, the Palace of the Legion of
+Honour, the Palace of the Quai d'Orsay, the Lyric, the Chatelet and
+the Porte St. Martin theatres, etc.
+
+"The Republic.--Reconstruction of the buildings burnt by the Commune;
+Avenue de l'Opera, the Opera House; Streets: Etienne Marcel, Reaumur,
+Avenue de la Republique, etc. In 1892, 4,090 streets, in 1902 there
+were 4,261 streets. The Exhibition 1878 left the Trocadero, and that
+of 1889 the Eiffel Tower, and that of 1900 the two Palaces of the
+Champs-Elysees and the bridge Alexander III." (To this one should add
+the Metro, still uncompleted, which has the advantage over London's
+Tubes of being only just below the surface, so that no lift is
+needed.)
+
+  [Illustration: THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL (WEST FACADE)]
+
+The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, at the east end of the gardens, is a
+mere child compared with the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, which stands
+there, so serenely and magnificently, at the end of the vista in the
+west, nearly two amazing miles away; it could be placed easily, with
+many feet to spare, under that greater monument's arch (as Victor
+Hugo's coffin was); but it is more beautiful. Both were the work of
+Napoleon, both celebrate the victories of 1805-06. The Carrousel is
+surmounted by a triumphal car and four horses; but here again, as in
+the case of the statue of Henri IV. on the Pont Neuf, there have been
+ironical changes. Napoleon, when he ordained the arch, which was
+intended largely to reproduce that of Severus at Rome, ravished for
+its crowning the quadriga from St. Mark's at Venice: those glorious
+gleaming horses over the door. That was as it should be: he was a
+conqueror and entitled to the spoils of conquest. But after his fall
+came, as we have seen, a pedantic disgorgement of such treasure; the
+golden team trotted back to the Adriatic, and a new decoration had to
+be provided for the Carrousel. Hence the present one, which
+represents--what? It is almost inconceivable; but, Louis XVIII. having
+commissioned it, it represents the triumph no longer of Napoleon but
+of the Restoration! Amusing to remember this under the Third Republic,
+as one looks up at it and then at the bas-reliefs of the battle of
+Austerlitz, the peace of Tilsit, the capitulation of Ulm, the entry
+into Munich, the entry into Vienna and the peace of Pressburg. Time's
+revenges indeed.
+
+Standing under the Arc du Carrousel one makes the interesting but
+disappointing discovery that the Arc de Triomphe, the column of Luxor
+in the Place de la Concorde, the fountain, the Arc du Carrousel, the
+Gambetta monument and the Pavillon Sully of the Louvre do not form a
+straight line, as by all the laws of French architectural symmetry
+they should--especially here, where compasses and rulers seem to have
+been at work on every inch of the ground, and, as I have ascertained,
+general opinion considers them to do. All is well, from the west,
+until the Arc du Carrousel; it is the Gambetta and the Pavilion Sully
+that throw it out.
+
+The Gambetta! This monument fascinates me, not by its beauty nor
+because I have any especial reverence for the statesman; but simply by
+the vigour of his clothes, the frock coat and the light overcoat of
+the flamboyant orator, holding forth for evermore (or until his hour
+strikes), urgent and impetuous and French. To the frock coat in
+sculpture we in London are no strangers, for have we not Parliament
+Square? but our frock coats are quiescent, dead even, things of stone.
+Gambetta's, on the contrary, is tempestuous--surely the most heroic
+frock coat that ever emerged from the quarries of Carrara. It might
+have been cut by the Great Mel himself.
+
+I have never seen a computation of the stone and bronze population of
+Paris, but the statues must be thousands strong. A Pied Piper leading
+them out of the city would be worth seeing, although I for one would
+regret their loss. Paris, I suppose, was Paris no less than now in the
+days before Gambetta masqueraded as a Frock Coated Victory almost
+within hail of the Winged Victory of Samothrace; but Paris certainly
+would not be Paris any more were some new turn of the wheel to whisk
+him away and leave the Place du Carrousel forlorn and tepid. The loss
+even of the smug figure of Jules Simon, just outside Durand's, would
+be something like a bereavement. I once, by the way, saw this statue
+wearing, after a snowstorm, a white fur cap and cape that gave him a
+character--something almost Siberian--beyond anything dreamed of by
+the sculptor.
+
+It is not until one has walked through the gardens of the Tuileries
+that the wealth of statuary in Paris begins to impress the mind. For
+there must be almost as many statues as flowers. They shine or glimmer
+everywhere, as in the Athenian groves--allegorical, symbolical,
+mythological, naked. The Luxembourg Gardens, as we shall see, are
+hardly less rich, but there one finds the statues of real persons.
+Here, as becomes a formal garden projected by a king, realism is
+excluded. Formal it is in the extreme; the trees are sternly
+pollarded, the beds are mathematically laid out, the paths are
+straight and not to be deviated from. None the less on a hot summer's
+day there are few more delightful spots, with the placid bonnes
+sitting so solidly, as only French women can sit, over their
+needlework, and their charges flitting like discreet butterflies all
+around them; and here are two old philosophers--another Bouvard and
+Pecuchet--discussing some problem of conduct or science, and there a
+family party lunching heartily, without shame. Pleasant groves,
+pleasant people!
+
+But the best thing in the Tuileries is M. Pol. Who is M. Pol? Well, he
+may not be the most famous man in Paris, but he is certainly the most
+engaging. M. Pol is the charmer of birds--"Le Charmeur d'oiseaux au
+Jardin des Tuileries," to give him his full title. There may be other
+charmers too at their pretty labours; but M. Pol comes easily first:
+his personality is so attractive, his terms of intercourse with the
+birds so intimate. His oiseaux are chiefly sparrows, whom he knows by
+name--La Princesse, Le Loustic, Garibaldi, La Baronne, l'Anglais, and
+so forth. They come one by one at his call, and he pets them and
+praises them; talks pretty ironical talk; uses them (particularly the
+little brown l'Anglais) for sly satirical purposes, for there are
+usually a few English spectators; affects to admonish and even
+chastise them, shuffling minatory feet with all the noise but none of
+the illusion of seriousness; and never ceases the while to scatter his
+crumbs or seeds of comfort. It is a very charming little drama, and
+although carried on every day, and for some hours every day, it has no
+suggestion of routine; one feels that the springs of it are sweetness
+and benevolence.
+
+He is a typical elderly Latin, this M. Pol, a little unmindful as to
+his dress, a little inclined to shamble: humorous, careless, gentle.
+When I first saw him, years ago, he fed his birds and went his way:
+but he now makes a little money by it too, now and then offering, very
+reluctantly, postcards bearing pictures of himself with all his birds
+about him and a distich or so from his pen. For M. Pol is a poet in
+words as well as deeds: "De nos petits oiseaux," he writes on one
+card:--
+
+     "De nos petits oiseaux, je suis le bienfaiteur,
+     Et je vais tous les jours leur donner la pature,
+     Mais suivant un contrat dicte par la nature
+     Quand je donne mon pain, ils me donnent leur coeur."
+
+I think this true. It is a little more than cupboard love that
+inspires these tiny creatures, or they would never settle on M. Pol's
+hands and shoulders as they do. He has charmed the pigeons also; but
+here he admits to a lower motive:--
+
+     "Ils savent, les malins, que leur couvert est mis,
+     C'est en faisant du bien qu'on se fait des amis."
+
+It amused me one day at the Louvre to fix one of these photographs in
+the frame of Giotto's picture of St. Francis (in Salle VII.), one of
+the scenes of which shows him preaching to the birds, thus bridging
+the gulf between the centuries and making for the moment the Assisi of
+the Saint and the Paris of M. Briand one.
+
+London has its noticeable lovers of animals too--you may see in St.
+Paul's churchyard in the dinner hour isolated figures surrounded and
+covered by pigeons: the British Museum courtyard also knows one or
+two, and the Guildhall: quite like Venice, both of them, save that no
+one is excited about it; while in St. James's Square may be seen at
+all hours of every day the mysterious cat woman with her pensioners
+all about her on their little mats. Every city has these
+humorists--shall I say? using the word as it was wont to be used long
+ago. But M. Pol--M. Pol stands alone. It is not merely that he charms
+the birds but that he is so charming with them. The pigeon feeders of
+London whom I have watched bring their maize, distribute it and go. M.
+Pol is more of a St. Francis than that: as I have shown, he converses,
+jokes and exchanges moods with his friends.
+
+Although he is acquainted with pigeons, his real friends are the
+gamins of the air, the sparrows, true Parisians, who have the best
+news. Pigeons, one can conceive, pick up a fact here and there, but it
+would have a foreign or provincial flavour. Now if there is one thing
+which bores a true Parisian it is talk of what is happening outside
+Paris. The Parisian's horizons do not extend beyond his city. The sun
+for him rises out of the Bois de Vincennes, and evening comes because
+it has sunk into the Bois de Boulogne. Hence M. Pol's wisdom in
+choosing the sparrow for his companion, his oiseau intime.
+
+So far had I written when I chanced to walk into London by way of Hyde
+Park, and there, just by the Achilles statue, was a charming gentleman
+in a tall white hat whistling a low whistle to a little band of
+sparrows who followed him and surrounded him and fluttered up, one by
+one, to his hand. We talked a little together, and he told me that the
+birds never forget him, though he is absent for eight months each
+year. His whistle brings them at once. So London is all right after
+all. And I have been told delightful things about the friends of the
+grey squirrels in Central Park; so New York perhaps is all right too.
+
+The Round Pond of Paris is at the Tuileries--not so vast as the _mare
+clausum_ of Kensington Gardens, but capable of accommodating many
+argosies. Leaving this Pond behind us and making for the Place de la
+Concorde, we have on the right the remains of a monastery of the
+Cistercians, one of the many religious houses which stood all about
+the north of the Gardens at the time of the Revolution and were first
+discredited and emptied by the votaries of Reason and then swept away
+by Napoleon when he made the Rue de Rivoli. The building on the left
+is the Orangery. It is in this part that the temporary pavilions are
+erected for the banquets to provincial mayors and such pleasant
+ceremonies, while in the summer some little exhibition is usually in
+progress.
+
+But what is that sound? The beating of a drum. We must hasten to the
+gates, for that means closing time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE--THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES AND THE INVALIDES
+
+     A Dangerous Crossing--An Ill-omened Place--Louis the XVI. in
+     Prosperity and Adversity--January 21st, 1793--The End of
+     Robespierre--The Luxor Column--The Congress of
+     Wheels--England and France--The Champs Elysees--The Parc
+     Monceau--A Terrestrial Paradise--Oriental Museums--The
+     Etoile's Tributaries--The Arc de Triomphe--The Avenue du
+     Bois de Boulogne--A Vast Pleasure-ground--Happy
+     Sundays--Longchamp--The Pari-mutuel--Spotting a Winner--Two
+     Crowded Corners--The Rival Salons--The Palais des
+     Beaux-Arts--Dutch Masters--Modern French Painters--Superb
+     Drawing--Fairies among the Statues--The Pont Alexandre
+     III.--The Fairs of Paris--A Vast Alms-house--A Model
+     Museum--Relics of Napoleon--The Second Funeral of
+     Napoleon--The Tomb of Napoleon.
+
+
+The Place de la Concorde by day is vast rather than beautiful, and by
+night it is a congress of lamps. By both it is dangerous, and in bad
+weather as exposed as the open sea. But it is sacred ground and Paris
+is unthinkable without it. The interest of the Place is summed up in
+the Luxor column, which may perhaps be said to mark what is perhaps
+the most critical site in modern history; for where the obelisk now
+stands stood not so very long ago the guillotine.
+
+The Place's name has been Concorde only since 1830 It began in 1763,
+when a bronze statue of Louis XV. on horseback was erected there,
+surrounded by emblematic figures, from the chisel of Pigalle, of
+Prudence, Justice, Force and Peace. Hence the characteristic French
+epigram:--
+
+     "O la belle statue, O le beau piedestal!
+     Les Vertus sont a pied, le Vice est a cheval."
+
+Before this time the Place had been an open and uncultivated space; it
+was now enclosed, surrounded with fosses, made trim, and called La
+Place Louis Quinze. In 1770, however, came tragedy; for on the
+occasion of the marriage of the Dauphin, afterwards the luckless Louis
+XVI., with the equally luckless Marie Antoinette, a display of
+fireworks was given, during which one of the rockets (as one always
+dreads at every display) declined the sky and rushed horizontally into
+the crowd, and in the resulting stampede thousands of persons fell
+into the ditches, twelve hundred being killed outright and two
+thousand injured.
+
+Twenty-two years later, kings having suddenly become cheap, the
+National Convention ordered the statue of Louis XV. to be melted down
+and recast into cannon, a clay figure of Liberte to be set up in its
+stead, and the name to be changed to the Place de la Revolution. This
+was done, and a little later the guillotine was erected a few yards
+west of the spot where the Luxor column now stands, primarily for the
+removal of the head of Louis XVI., in whose honour those unfortunate
+fireworks had been ignited. The day was January 21st, 1793.
+
+"King Louis," says Carlyle, "slept sound, till five in the morning,
+when Clery, as he had been ordered, awoke him. Clery dressed his hair:
+while this went forward, Louis took a ring from his watch, and kept
+trying it on his finger; it was his wedding-ring, which he is now to
+return to the Queen as a mute farewell. At half-past six, he took the
+Sacrament; and continued in devotion, and conference with Abbe
+Edgeworth. He will not see his Family: it were too hard to bear.
+
+"At eight, the Municipals enter: the King gives them his Will, and
+messages and effects; which they, at first, brutally refuse to take
+charge of: he gives them a roll of gold pieces, a hundred and
+twenty-five louis; these are to be returned to Malesherbes, who had
+lent them. At nine, Santerre says the hour is come. The King begs yet
+to retire for three minutes. At the end of three minutes, Santerre
+again says the hour is come. 'Stamping on the ground with his
+right-foot, Louis answers: "_Partons_, Let us go."'--How the rolling
+of those drums comes in, through the Temple bastions and bulwarks, on
+the heart of a queenly wife; soon to be a widow! He is gone, then, and
+has not seen us? A Queen weeps bitterly; a King's Sister and Children.
+Over all these Four does Death also hover: all shall perish miserably
+save one; she, as Duchesse d'Angouleme, will live,--not happily.
+
+"At the Temple Gate were some faint cries, perhaps from voices of
+pitiful women: '_Grace! Grace!_' Through the rest of the streets there
+is silence as of the grave. No man not armed is allowed to be there:
+the armed, did any even pity, dare not express it, each man overawed
+by all his neighbours. All windows are down, none seen looking through
+them. All shops are shut. No wheel-carriage rolls, this morning, in
+these streets but one only. Eighty thousand armed men stand ranked,
+like armed statues of men; cannons bristle, cannoneers with match
+burning, but no word or movement: it is as a city enchanted into
+silence and stone: one carriage with its escort, slowly rumbling, is
+the only sound. Louis reads, in his Book of Devotion, the Prayers of
+the Dying: clatter of this death-march falls sharp on the ear, in the
+great silence; but the thought would fain struggle heavenward, and
+forget the Earth.
+
+"As the clocks strike ten, behold the Place de la Revolution, once
+Place de Louis Quinze: the Guillotine, mounted near the old Pedestal
+where once stood the Statue of that Louis! Far round, all bristles
+with cannons and armed men: spectators crowding in the rear; D'Orleans
+Egalite there in cabriolet. Swift messengers, _hoquetons_, speed to
+the Townhall, every three minutes: near by is the Convention
+sitting,--vengeful for Lepelletier. Heedless of all, Louis reads his
+Prayers of the Dying; not till five minutes yet has he finished; then
+the Carriage opens. What temper he is in? Ten different witnesses will
+give ten different accounts of it. He is in the collision of all
+tempers; arrived now at the black Maelstrom and descent of Death: in
+sorrow, in indignation, in resignation struggling to be resigned.
+'Take care of M. Edgeworth,' he straitly charges the Lieutenant who is
+sitting with them: then they two descend.
+
+"The drums are beating: '_Taisez-vous_, Silence!' he cries 'in a
+terrible voice, _d'une voix terrible_'. He mounts the scaffold, not
+without delay; he is in puce coat, breeches of gray, white stockings.
+He strips off the coat; stands disclosed in a sleeve-waistcoat of
+white flannel. The Executioners approach to bind him: he spurns,
+resists; Abbe Edgeworth has to remind him how the Saviour, in whom men
+trust, submitted to be bound. His hands are tied, his head bare, the
+fatal moment is come. He advances to the edge of the Scaffold, 'his
+face very red,' and says: 'Frenchmen, I die innocent: it is from the
+Scaffold and near appearing before God that I tell you so. I pardon my
+enemies: I desire that France----' A General on horseback, Santerre or
+another, prances out, with uplifted hand: '_Tambours!_' The drums
+drown the voice. Executioners, do your duty!' The Executioners,
+desperate lest themselves be murdered (for Santerre and his Armed
+Ranks will strike, if they do not), seize the hapless Louis: six of
+them desperate, him singly desperate, struggling there; and bind him
+to their plank. Abbe Edgeworth, stooping, bespeaks him: 'Son of Saint
+Louis, ascend to Heaven'. The Axe clanks down; a King's Life is shorn
+away. It is Monday the 21st of January, 1793. He was aged Thirty-eight
+years, four months and twenty-eight days.
+
+  [Illustration: VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT
+    GHIRLANDAIO
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+"Executioner Samson shows the Head: fierce shout of _Vive la
+Republique_ rises, and swells; caps raised on bayonets, hats waving;
+students of the College of Four Nations take it up, on the far Quais;
+fling it over Paris. D'Orleans drives off in his cabriolet: the
+Townhall Councillors rub their hands, saying, 'It is done, It is
+done'. There is dipping of handkerchiefs, of pike-points in the blood.
+Headsman Samson, though he afterwards denied it, sells locks of the
+hair: fractions of the puce coat are long after worn in rings.--And
+so, in some half-hour it is done; and the multitude has all departed.
+Pastry-cooks, coffee-sellers, milkmen sing out their trivial quotidian
+cries: the world wags on, as if this were a common day. In the
+coffee-houses that evening, says Prudhomme, Patriot shook hands with
+Patriot in a more cordial manner than usual. Not till some days after,
+according to Mercier, did public men see what a grave thing it was."
+
+The guillotine for more ordinary purposes worked in the Place du
+Carrousel, not far from Gambetta's statue to-day; but from May, 1793,
+until June, 1794, it was back in the Place de la Concorde (then Place
+de la Revolution) again, accounting during that time for no fewer than
+1,235 offenders, including Charlotte Corday, Madame Roland and Marie
+Antoinette. The blood flowed daily, while the tricoteuses looked on
+over their knitting and the mob howled.
+
+Another removal, to the Place de la Bastille, and then on 28th July,
+1794, the engine of justice or vengeance was back again to end a life
+and the Reign of Terror in one blow. What life? But listen:
+"Robespierre," lay in an anteroom of the Convention Hall, while his
+Prison-escort was getting ready; the mangled jaw bound up rudely with
+bloody linen: a spectacle to men. He lies stretched on a table, a
+deal-box his pillow; the sheath of the pistol is still clenched
+convulsively in his hand. Men bully him, insult him: his eyes still
+indicate intelligence; he speaks no word. 'He had on the sky-blue coat
+he had got made for the Feast of the _Etre Supreme_'--O Reader, can
+thy hard heart hold out against that? His trousers were nankeen; the
+stockings had fallen down over the ankles. He spake no word more in
+this world.
+
+"And so, at six in the morning, a victorious Convention adjourns.
+Report flies over Paris as on golden wings; penetrates the Prisons;
+irradiates the faces of those that were ready to perish: turnkeys and
+_moutons_, fallen from their high estate, look mute and blue. It is
+the 28th day of July, called 10th of Thermidor, year 1794.
+
+"Fouquier had but to identify; his Prisoners being already Out of Law.
+At four in the afternoon, never before were the streets of Paris seen
+so crowded. From the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Revolution,
+for _thither_ again go the Tumbrils this time, it is one dense
+stirring mass; all windows crammed; the very roofs and ridge-tiles
+budding forth human Curiosity, in strange gladness. The
+Death-tumbrils, with their motley Batch of Outlaws, some twenty-three
+or so, from Maximilien to Mayor Fleuriot and Simon the Cordwainer,
+roll on. All eyes are on Robespierre's Tumbril, where he, his jaw
+bound in dirty linen, with his half-dead Brother and half-dead
+Henriot, lie shattered; their 'seventeen hours' of agony about to end.
+The Gendarmes point their swords at him, to show the people which is
+he. A woman springs on the Tumbril; clutching the side of it with one
+hand, waving the other Sibyl-like; and exclaims: 'The death of thee
+gladdens my very heart, _m'enivre de joie_'; Robespierre opened his
+eyes; '_Scelerat_, go down to Hell, with the curses of all wives and
+mothers!'--At the foot of the scaffold, they stretched him on the
+ground till his turn came. Lifted aloft, his eyes again opened; caught
+the bloody axe. Samson wrenched the coat off him; wrenched the dirty
+linen from his jaw: the jaw fell powerless, there burst from him a
+cry;--hideous to hear and see. Samson, thou canst not be too quick!
+
+"Samson's work done, there bursts forth shout on shout of applause.
+Shout, which prolongs itself not only over Paris, but over France, but
+over Europe, and down to this generation. Deservedly, and also
+undeservedly. O unhappiest Advocate of Arras, wert thou worse than
+other Advocates? Stricter man, according to his Formula, to his Credo
+and his Cant, of probities, benevolences, pleasures-of-virtue, and
+suchlike, lived not in that age. A man fitted, in some luckier settled
+age, to have become one of those incorruptible barren Pattern-Figures,
+and have had marble-tablets and funeral-sermons. His poor landlord,
+the Cabinet-maker in the Rue Saint-Honore, loved him; his Brother died
+for him. May God be merciful to him and to us!
+
+"This is the end of the Reign of Terror."
+
+In 1799 the Place won its name Concorde. The next untoward sight that
+it was to see was Prussian and Russian soldiers encamping there in
+1814 and 1815, and in 1815 the British. By this time it had been
+renamed Place Louis Quinze, which in 1826 was changed to Place Louis
+Seize, and a project was afoot for raising a monument to that
+monarch's memory on the spot where he fell. But the Revolution of 1830
+intervened, and "Concorde" resumed its sway, and in 1836
+Louis-Philippe, the new king (whose father, Philippe Egalite, had
+perished on the guillotine here), erected the Luxor column, which had
+been given to him by Mohammed Ali, and had once stood before the great
+temple of Thebes commemorating on its sides the achievements of
+Rameses II. Since then certain symbolic statues of the great French
+cities (including unhappy Strassburg) have been set up, and the Place
+is a model of symmetry; and at the time that I write (1909) a great
+part of it is enclosed within hoardings for I know not what purpose,
+but I hope a subway for the saving of the lives of pedestrians, for it
+must be the most perilous crossing in the world. One has but to set
+foot in the roadway and straightway motor-cars and cabs spring out of
+the earth and converge upon one from every point of the compass, in
+the amazing French way. Concorde, indeed!
+
+  [Illustration: THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE
+    (LOOKING NORTH)
+    AUTOMOBILE CLUB
+    THE MADELEINE
+    MINISTERE DE LA MARINE]
+
+If the Place de la Concorde may be called at night a congress of
+lamps, the Champs-Elysees in the afternoon may be said to be a
+congress of wheels. Wheels in such numbers and revolving at such a
+pace are never seen in England, not even on the Epsom road on Derby
+Day. For there is no speed limit for the French motor-car. Nor have we
+in England anything like this superb roadway, so wide and open,
+climbing so confidently to the Arc de Triomphe, with its groves on
+either side at the foot, and the prosperous white mansions afterwards.
+It is not our way. We English, with our ambition to conquer and
+administer the world, have neglected our own home; the French, with no
+ambition any longer to wander beyond their own borders, have made
+their home beautiful. The energy which we as a nation put into greater
+Britain, they have put into buildings, into statues, into roads. The
+result is that we have the Transvaal, Australia, New Zealand, Canada
+and India, but it is the French, foregoing such possessions and all
+their anxieties, who have the Champs-Elysees.
+
+The Champs-Elysees were planned and laid out by Marie de Medicis in
+1616, and the Cours la Reine, her triple avenue of trees, still
+exists; but Napoleon is the father of the scheme which culminates so
+magnificently in the Arc de Triomphe. The particular children's
+paradise of Paris is in the gardens between the main road and the
+Elysee, where they bowl their hoops and spin their Diabolo spools, and
+ride on the horses of minute round-abouts turned by hand, and watch
+the marionettes, with the tired eyes of Alphonse Daudet, who sits for
+ever, close by, in very white stone, watching them. Here also are the
+open-air cafes, the Ambassadeurs and the Alcazar, while on the other,
+the river, side are the Jardin de Paris, a curiously Lutetian haunt,
+and Ledoyen's, one of the pleasantest of restaurants in summer.
+
+Just above this point we ought to turn to the left to visit the Petit
+Palais and cross the Pont Alexandre III., but since we are on the way
+let us now climb to the Etoile, and on to the Bois, first, however,
+just turning off the Rond-Point for a moment to look at No. 3 Avenue
+Matignon, where Heine (beside whose grave we are to stand on
+Montmartre) suffered and died.
+
+The Place de l'Etoile might be called a kind of gilt-edged Seven
+Dials, since so many roads lead from it. Aristocratic Paris comes to a
+head here. On the right runs from it the Avenue de Friedland, leading
+to the Boulevard Haussmann, which meets with so inglorious an end at
+the Rue Taitbout, but is perhaps to be cut through to join the
+Boulevard Montmartre. Next on the right is the Avenue Hoche, running
+directly into the Parc Monceau, a terrestrial paradise to which good
+mondaines certainly go when they die. A little appartement overlooking
+the Parc Monceau--there is tangible heaven, if you like!
+
+The Parc itself is small but perfect, elegant and expensive and
+verdant. The children (one feels) are all titled, the bonnes are
+visibly miracles of distinction and the babies masses of point lace;
+the ladies on the chairs must be Comtesses or Baronnes, and the air
+is carefully scented. That is the Parc Monceau. It needed but one
+detail to make it complete, and that was supplied a few years ago: a
+statue of Guy de Maupassant, consisting of a block of the most radiant
+marble to be procured, with the novelist as its apex, and at the base
+a Parisienne reading one of his stories. Other statues there are: of
+Ambroise Thomas the composer, to whom Mignon offers a floral tribute;
+of Pailleron the dramatist, attended by an actress; of Gounod
+surrounded by Marguerite, Juliet, Sappho and a little Love; and of
+Chopin seated at the piano, with the figures of Night and Harmony to
+inspire him. These are only a few; but they are typical. Every statue
+in the Parc has a damsel or two, according to his desire. It is the
+mode. There is also a minute lake, on the edge of which have been set
+up a number of Corinthian columns; and before you have been seated a
+minute, an old woman appears from nowhere and demands twopence for
+what she poetically calls an armchair, the extra penny being added as
+a compliment to the two uncomfortable wires at the side which you had
+been wishing you could break off. Such is the Parc Monceau, the like
+of which exists not in London: the ideal pleasaunce of the wealthy.
+Through it, I might add, you may drive; but only at a walking
+pace--_au pas_. If the horse were to trot he might shake some petals
+off.
+
+At the western gate is the Musee Cernuschi, containing a collection of
+oriental pottery and bronzes. I am no connoisseur of these beautiful
+things, but I advise all readers of this book to visit both this
+museum and the Guimet in the Place d'Iena, which is a treasury of
+Japanese and Chinese art.
+
+Returning to the Etoile, the next avenue is the Avenue de Wagram,
+running north to the Porte d'Asnieres, while that which continues the
+Avenue des Champs-Elysees in a straight line west by north is the
+Avenue de la Grande Armee, running to the Porte Maillot and Neuilly.
+On the left the first avenue is the Avenue Marceau, which leads to the
+Place de l'Alma; the next the Avenue d'Iena, leading to the Place
+d'Iena; the next, the Avenue Kleber, running straight to the Trocadero
+(into which I have never penetrated) and Passy, where the English
+live; the next, the Avenue Victor Hugo, which never stops; and finally
+the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, the most beautiful roadway in new
+Paris, along which we shall fare when we have examined the Arc de
+Triomphe.
+
+This trophy of success was begun, as I have said, by Napoleon to
+celebrate the victories of 1805 and 1806; Louis-Philippe finished it
+in 1836. Why Louis XVIII. did not destroy it or complete it as a
+further memorial of the Restoration, I cannot say. Napoleon's original
+idea was, however, tampered with by his successors, who allowed a
+bas-relief representing the Blessings of Peace in 1815 to be included.
+The sculptures are otherwise wholly devoted to the glorification of
+war, Napoleon and the French army; but they are not to be studied
+without serious inconvenience. My advice to the conscientious student
+would be to buy photographs or picture postcards, and examine them at
+home: the Arc de Triomphe is too great and splendid for such detail.
+From the top one can see all round Paris, and though one cannot look
+down on it all as from the Eiffel Tower, or see, beneath one, such an
+interesting district as from Notre Dame, it is yet a wonderfully
+interesting view.
+
+The Avenue du Bois de Boulogne has the finest road in what is, so to
+speak, the Marais of the present day; that is to say, in the modern
+quarter of the aristocratic and wealthy. We have seen riches and rank
+moving from the Marais to the Faubourg St. Germain and from the
+Faubourg St. Germain to the Faubourg St. Honore, and now we find them
+here, and here they seem likely to remain. And indeed to move farther
+would be foolish, for surely there never was, and could not be, a more
+beautiful city site than this anywhere in the world--with its wide
+cool lawns on either side, and its gay colouring, and the Bois so
+near. Here too, on the heads of the comfortable complacent bonnes, are
+the most radiant caps you ever saw.
+
+The Bois de Boulogne, which takes its name from the little town of
+Boulogne to the south of it, now a suburb of Paris, began its life as
+a Paris park in the eighteen-fifties. Before that it was a forest of
+great trees, which indeed remained until the Franco-Prussian war, when
+they were cut down in order that they might not give cover to the
+enemy. That is why the present groves are all of a size. I cannot
+describe the Bois better than by saying that it is as if Hyde Park,
+Sandown Park, Kempton Park, and Epping Forest were all thrown together
+between Shepherd's Bush, Acton and the river. London would then have
+something like the Bois; and yet it would not be like the Bois at all,
+because it would rapidly become a desert of newspapers and empty
+bottles, whereas, although in the summer populous with picnic parties,
+the Bois is always clean and fresh.
+
+There are several gates to the Bois, but the principal ones are the
+Porte Maillot at the end of the Avenue de la Grande Armee, and the
+Porte Dauphine at the end of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and it is
+through the latter that the thousands of vehicles pass on their way to
+the races on happy Sundays in the spring and autumn. Most English
+people visiting the Bois merely drive to the races and back again; it
+is quite the exception to find any one who really knows the Bois--who
+has walked round the two lakes, Lac Inferieur, which feeds the cascade
+under which one may walk (as at Niagara), and Lac Superieur; who has
+seen a play in the Theatre de Verdure, or an exhibition at Bagatelle,
+the villa of the late Sir Richard Wallace, who gave the Champs-Elysees
+its drinking fountains and London the Wallace Collection. Bagatelle
+now belongs to Paris. Every English visitor, however, remembers the
+stone animals, dogs and deer, in the lawn of the Villa de Longchamp on
+the right as one approaches the race-course, and the windmill on the
+left, one of the several inoperative windmills of Paris, which
+marks the site of the old Abbey of Longchamp, founded by Isabella, the
+sister of Saint Louis.
+
+  [Illustration: VENUS ET L'AMOUR
+    REMBRANDT
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Bois has two restaurants of the highest quality and
+price--Armenonville, close to the Porte Maillot, a favourite
+dining-place when the Fete de Neuilly is in progress, in the summer,
+and the Pre Catelan, near Lac Inferieur and close to the point where
+the Allee de la Reine-Marguerite and the Allee de Longchamp cross. In
+the summer it is quite the thing for the young bloods who frequent the
+night cafes on Montmartre to drive into the Bois in the early morning
+and drink a glass of milk in the Pre Catelan's dairy, perhaps bringing
+the milkmaids with them.
+
+The Bois has two race-courses, but it is at Longchamp that the
+principal races are run--the Grand Prix and the Conseil Municipal.
+Racing men tell me that the defect of the pari-mutuel system is that
+one cannot arrange one's book, since the odds are always more or less
+of a surprise; but to one who does not bet on horses anywhere but in
+Paris, and who views an English bookmaker with alarm, if not positive
+terror, the pari-mutuel seems perfect in its easy and silent workings
+and the dramatic unfolding of its surprises. For first you have the
+fun of picking out your horse; then quietly putting your money on him,
+to win or for a place; and then, after the race is run and your horse
+is a winner, you have those five to ten delightfully anxious minutes
+while the actuaries are working out the odds.
+
+An experience of my own will illustrate not only the method of the
+system but the haphazard principles on which a stranger's modest
+gambling can be done. On the morning of the races I had visited the
+Louvre with Mr. Dexter, the artist of this book. We had not much time,
+and were therefore proposing to look only at the Leonardos and the
+Rembrandts, which are separated by a considerable stretch of gallery
+hung with other pictures. On leaving the Leonardos we walked briskly
+towards the Dutch end; Mr. Dexter, however, loitered here and there,
+and I was some distance ahead when he called me back to see a Holbein.
+It was worth going back for. In the afternoon at Longchamp, when the
+time came before the race to pick out the horses who were to have the
+honour of carrying my money, I noticed that one of them was named
+Holbein. Having already that day been pleased with a Holbein, I
+accepted the circumstance as a line of guidance, and placed a
+five-franc piece on the brave animal. He came in first, and being an
+outsider his price was 185.50.
+
+The Longchamp course is perfectly managed. There are three places
+where one may go--to the pesage, which costs twenty francs for a
+cavalier and ten francs for a dame; to the pavillon, which is half
+that price; or to the pelouse, where the people congregate, which
+costs a franc. Perfect order reigns everywhere.
+
+For the wanderer who has no carriage awaiting him and no appointments
+to hurry him there are two entertaining things to do when the races
+are over on a fine Sunday afternoon. One is to cross the Seine to
+Suresnes by the adjacent bridge and sitting at the cafe that faces it,
+watch the crowd and the traffic, for this is on a main road from Paris
+to the country; or walking the other way, one may enjoy a similar
+spectacle at the Cafe du Sport outside the Porte Maillot and study at
+one's ease the happy French in holiday mood--the husbands with their
+wives and their two children, and the Sunday lovers arm in arm.
+
+And now we return to the Champs-Elysees in order to look at some
+pictures and admire a beautiful bridge. For the Avenue Alexandre III.,
+as for the Pont Alexandre III., Paris is indebted to the 1900
+Exhibition. These are her permanent gains, and very valuable they are.
+Of the two white palaces on either side of this green and spacious
+Avenue, that on the right, as we face the golden dome of the
+Invalides, is the home of the Salon and of various exhibitions. I say
+Salon, but Paris now has many Salons, two of which, in more or less
+amicable rivalry, occupy this building at the same time. In one, the
+Salon proper, the Salon of the old guard, the Royal Academicians of
+France, there are miles of paint but few experiments; in the other,
+where the more independent spirits--the New Englishers, so to
+speak--hang their works in personal groups, there are fewer miles but
+more outrages. For outrages, however, pure and simple (or even impure
+and complex), I recommend the Salon that is now held in the early
+spring in some of the old Exhibition buildings on the banks of the
+river, close to the Pont d'Alexandre III. I have seen pictures
+there--nudities, in the manner of Aztec decorations, by the youngest
+French artists of the moment--which made one want to scream. It was
+said once that the French knew how to paint but not what to paint, and
+the English what to paint but not how to paint it. Since then there
+has been such a fusing of nationalities, such increased and humble
+appreciation on the part of the English painters of the best French
+methods, that one can no longer talk in that kind of cast-iron
+epigram; but it is impossible to see some of the crude innovating work
+now being done without the reflection that France is rapidly and
+successfully creating a school of artists who not only know not what
+to paint but how to paint too.
+
+The Palais des Beaux-Arts, which was built for the collection of
+pictures at the Exhibition of 1900, is now a permanent gallery for the
+preservation of the various works of art acquired from time to time by
+the municipality of Paris, thus differing from the Luxembourg
+collections, which are national. The Palais has become a kind of
+brother of the Carnavalet, the one being the historical museum of
+Paris and the other--the Palais--the artistic museum of Paris. The
+Palais undoubtedly contains much that is not of the highest quality,
+but no one who is interested in modern French painting and drawing can
+afford to neglect it, while the recent acquisition of the Collection
+Dutuit, consisting chiefly of small but choice pictures of the Dutch
+masters, including a picture of Rembrandt with his dog, from his own
+hand, has added a rather necessary touch of antiquity.
+
+One of the special rooms is devoted to pictures of the opulent Felix
+Ziem, painter of Venetian sunsets and the sky at its most golden,
+wherever it may be found, who is still (1909) living in honourable
+state on those slopes of the mountain of fame which are reserved for
+the few rare spirits that become old masters before they die, and who
+presented his pictures to Paris a few years ago; another room is
+filled with the works of the late Jean Jacques Henner, whose pallid
+nudities, emerging from voluptuous gloom, still look yearningly at one
+from the windows of so many Paris picture dealers. Henner, I must
+confess, is not a painter whom I greatly esteem; but few modern French
+artists were more popular in their day. He died in 1905, and this gift
+of his work was made by his son. Other French artists to have rooms of
+their own in the Palais are Jean Carries the sculptor, who died in
+1894 at the age of thirty-nine, after an active career in the
+modelling of quaint and grotesque and realistic figures, one of the
+best known and most charming of his many works being "La Fillette au
+Pantin" (No. 1338 in the collection); and Jules Dalou (1838-1902),
+also a sculptor, a man of more vigour although of less charm than his
+neighbour in the Palais. That strange gift of untiring abundant
+creativeness which the French have so notably, Dalou also shared, his
+busy fingers having added thousands of new figures to those that
+already congest life, while he modelled also many a well-known head.
+I think that I like best his "Esquisses de Travailleurs". Nothing
+here, however, is so fascinating as Dalou's own head by Rodin in the
+Luxembourg.
+
+Of the picture collection proper I am saying but little, for it is in
+a fluid state, and even in the catalogue before me, the latest
+edition, there is no mention of several of its finest treasures: among
+them Manet's portrait of Theodore Duret, a sketch of an old peasant
+woman's hand by Madame David, a Rip Van Winkle by that modern master
+of the grotesque and Rabelaisian, Jean Veber, and one of Mr. Sargent's
+Venetian sketches--the racing gondoliers. For the most part it is like
+revisiting the past few Salons, except that the pictures are more
+choice and less numerous; but one sees many old friends, and all the
+expected painters are here. It is of course the surprises that one
+remembers--the three Daumiers, for example, particularly "L'Amateur
+d'Estampes," reproduced opposite page 286, and "Les Joueurs d'Echecs,"
+and the fine collection of the drawings of Puvis de Chavannes and
+Daniel Vierge. I was also much taken with some topographical drawings
+by Adrian Karbowski--No. 494 in the catalogue. Other pictures and
+drawings which should be seen are those by Cazin (a sunset),
+Pointelin, Steinlen (some work-girls), Sisley, Lebourg, and
+Harpignies, who exhibits water-colours separated in time by fifty-nine
+years, 1849 to 1908. The drawings on a whole are far better than the
+paintings.
+
+In the collection Dutuit look at Ruisdael's "Environs de Haarlem,"
+Terburg's "La Fiancee," Hobbema's "Les Moulins" and a woodland scene,
+Pot's "Portrait of a Man," Van de Velde's landscape sketches, and the
+Rembrandt. The rooms downstairs are not worth visiting.
+
+Among the statuary, some of which is very good, particularly a new
+unsigned and uncatalogued Joan of Arc, is a naked Victor Hugo holding
+a MS. in his hand; while Fremiet of course confronts the door, this
+time with a really fine George and the Dragon, George having a spear
+worthy of the occasion, and not the short and useless broadsword which
+he brandishes on the English sovereign.
+
+On my last visit to this thinly populated gallery I was for some time
+one of three visitors, until suddenly the vast spaces were humanised
+by the gracious and winsome presence of a band of Isidora Duncan's gay
+little dancers, with a kindly companion to tell them about the
+pictures, and--what interested them more--the statues. These tiny
+lissome creatures flitting among the cold rigid marbles I shall not
+soon forget.
+
+And so we come to the Pont Alexandre III., the bridge whose width and
+radiance are an ever fresh surprise and joy, and make our way to the
+Invalides, at the end of the prospect, across the great Esplanade des
+Invalides, so quiet to-day, but for a month of every year, so noisy
+and variegated with round-abouts and booths. It is, by the way, well
+worth while, whenever one is in Paris, to find out what fair is being
+held. For somewhere or other a fair is always being held. You can get
+the particulars from the invaluable _Bottin_ or _Bottin Mondain_,
+which every restaurant keeps, and which is even exposed to public
+scrutiny on a table at the Gare du Nord, and for all I know to the
+contrary, at the other stations too. This is one of the lessons which
+might be learned from Paris by London, where you ask in vain for a
+_Post Office Directory_ in all but the General Post Office. _Bottin_,
+who knows all, will give you the time and place of every fair. The
+best is the Fete de Neuilly, which is held in the summer, just outside
+the Porte Maillot, but all the arrondissements have their own. They
+are crowded scenes of noisy life; but they are amusing too, and their
+popularity shows you how juvenile is the Frenchman's heart.
+
+One should enter the Invalides from the great Place and round off the
+inspection of the Musee de l'Armee by a visit to Napoleon's tomb;
+that, at least, is the symmetrical order. The Hotel des Invalides
+proper, which set the fashion in military hospitals, was built by
+Louis XIV., who may be seen on his horse in bas-relief on the
+principal facade. The building once sheltered and tended 7,000 wounded
+soldiers; but there are now only fifty. From its original function as
+a military hospital for any kind of disablement it has dwindled to a
+home for a few incurables; while the greater portion of the building
+is now given up to collections and to civic offices. There could be no
+greater contrast than that between the imposing architecture of the
+main structure and the charming domestic facade in the Boulevard des
+Invalides, which is one of the pleasantest of the old Paris
+buildings and has some of the simplicity of an English almshouse.
+
+  [Illustration: LES PELERINS D'EMMAUES
+    REMBRANDT
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+It is not until we enter the great Court of Honour that we catch sight
+of Napoleon, whose figure dominates the opposite wall. Thereafter one
+thinks of little else. Louis XIV. disappears.
+
+Passing some dingy frescoes which the weather has treated vilely, we
+enter the Musee Historique on the left--unless one has an overwhelming
+passion for artillery, armour and the weapons of savages, in which
+case one turns to the right. I mention the alternative because there
+is far too much to see on one visit, and it is well to concentrate on
+the more interesting. For me guns and armour and the weapons of
+savages are without any magic while there are to be seen such human
+relics as have been brought together in the Musee Historique on the
+opposite side of the Court. The whole place, by the way, is a model
+for the Carnavalet, in that everything is precisely and clearly
+labelled. This, since it is a favourite resort of simple
+folk--soldiers and their parents and sweethearts--is a thoughtful
+provision.
+
+The Musee Historique has at every turn something profoundly
+interesting, and incidentally it tells something of the men from whom
+numbers of Paris streets take their names; but the real and poignant
+interest is Napoleon. The Longwood room is to me too painful. The
+project of the admirable administrator has been to illustrate the
+whole pageant of French arms; but the Man of Destiny quickly becomes
+all-powerful, and one finds oneself looking only for signs and tokens
+of his personality. So it should be, under the shadow of the Dome
+which covers his ashes. I would personally go farther and collect at
+the Invalides all the Napoleonic relics that one now must visit so
+many places to see--the Carnavalet, Fontainebleau, the Musee Grevin,
+our own United Service Museum in Whitehall (as if we had the right to
+a single article from St. Helena!), Madame Tussaud's, and Versailles.
+There is even a room at the Arts Decoratifs devoted nominally to
+Napoleon, but it has few articles of personal interest and none of any
+intimacy--merely splendid costumes for occasions and ceremonials of
+State, with a few of Josephine's lace caps among them. Its purpose is
+to illustrate the Empire rather than the Emperor, but the Invalides
+should have what there is.
+
+At the Invalides you may, I suppose, see in three or four rooms more
+Napoleonic relics of a personal character than anywhere else. In
+Whitehall is the chair he died in; but here is his garden-seat from
+St. Helena, one bar of which was removed to allow him as he sat to
+pass his arm through and be more at his ease as he looked out to the
+ocean that was to do nothing for him. At Whitehall is the skeleton of
+his horse Marengo; here is the saddle. Here are his grey redingote and
+more than one of his hats. Among the relics in the special Napoleonic
+rooms those of his triumph and his fall are mixed. Here is the bullet
+that wounded him at Ratisbon; here are his telescopes and his maps,
+his travelling desks and his pistols; here are the toys of the little
+Duke of Reichstadt; here is the walking stick on which Napoleon
+leaned at St. Helena, his dressing-gown, his bed, his armchair and his
+death-mask. Here are the railings of the tomb at St. Helena, and a
+case of leaves and stones and pieces of wood and other natural
+surroundings of the same spot. Here also is the pall that covered his
+coffin on the way to its final burial under the Dome close by.
+
+It is a fitting end to the study of these storied corridors to pass to
+the tomb of the protagonist of the drama we have been contemplating.
+The Emperor's remains were brought to Paris in 1840, nineteen years
+after his death at St. Helena. Thackeray, in his _Second Funeral of
+Napoleon_, wrote a vivid, although to my mind hateful, description of
+the ceremonial: a piece of complacent flippancy, marked by the worst
+kind of French irreverence, which shows him in his least admirable
+mood, particularly when he is pleased to be amusing over the
+difference between the features of the Emperor dead and living. None
+the less it is an absorbing narrative.
+
+One looks down upon the sarcophagus, which lies in a marble well. It
+is simple, solemn and severe, and to a few persons, not Titmarshes,
+inexpressibly melancholy. The Emperor's words from his will, "Je
+desire que mes cendres reposent sur les bords de la Seine, au milieu
+de ce peuple francais que j'ai tant aime," are placed at the entrance
+to the crypt. He had not the Invalides in mind when he wrote them; but
+one feels that the Invalides is as right a spot for him as any in this
+land of short memories and light mockeries.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS TRIBUTARIES
+
+     An Aristocratic Quarter--Adrienne Lecouvreur--A Grisly
+     Museum--A Changeless City--The Pasteur Institute--The Golden
+     Key--The Stoppeur--Sterne--The Beaux Arts--A Wilderness of
+     Copies--Voltaire Clad and Naked--The Mint--An Inquisitive
+     Visitor--Bad Money.
+
+
+From the Invalides the Boulevard St. Germain, the west to east highway
+of the Surrey side of Paris, is easily gained; but it is not in itself
+very interesting. The interesting streets either cross it or run more
+or less parallel with it, such as the old and winding Rue de Grenelle,
+which we come to at once, the home of the Parisian aristocracy after
+its removal from the Marais. The houses are little changed: merely the
+tenants; and certain Embassies are now here. No. 18 was once the Hotel
+de Beauharnais, the home of the fair Josephine; at the Russian
+Embassy, No. 79, the Duchesse d'Estrees lived. In an outhouse at No.
+115 was buried in unconsecrated ground Adrienne Lecouvreur, the
+tragedienne who made tragedy, the beloved of Marechal Saxe. Scribe's
+drama has made her story known--how her heart was too much for her,
+and how Christian burial was refused her by a Christian priest.
+
+The Rue St. Dominique, parallel with the Rue de Grenelle nearer the
+river, is equally old and august. At No. 13 lived Madame de Genlis,
+the monitress of French youth. Still nearer the river runs the long
+Rue de l'Universite, which also has an illustrious past and a
+picturesque present, some great French noble having built nearly every
+house.
+
+One of the first old streets to cross the Boulevard St. Germain is the
+Rue du Bac, a roadway made when the Palace of the Tuileries was
+building, to convey materials from Vaugiraud to the _bac_ (or ferry
+boat) which crossed the Seine where the Pont Royal now stands. This
+street also is full of ancient palaces and convents. Chateaubriand
+died at 118-120. At 128 is the Seminaires des Missions Etrangeres,
+with a terrible little museum called the Chambre des Martyrs, very
+French in character, displaying instruments of torture which have been
+used upon missionaries in China and other countries inimical (like
+poor Adrienne's priest) to Christianity. The Rue des Saints-Peres
+resembles the Rue du Bac, but is more attractive to the loiterer
+because it has perhaps the greatest number of old curiosity shops of
+any street in Paris. They touch each other: perhaps they take in each
+other's dusting. I never saw a customer enter; but that of course
+means nothing. One might be sure of finding a case made of peau de
+chagrin here and be equally sure that Balzac had trodden this
+pavement before you. You will see, however, nothing or very little
+that is beautiful, because Paris does not care much for sheer beauty.
+
+The Rue des Saints-Peres runs upwards into the Rue de Sevres, where
+old convents cluster and the Bon Marche raises its successful modern
+bulk. It was in the Abbaye-aux-Bois, once at the corner of the Rue de
+Sevres and the Rue de la Chaise, but now buried beneath a gigantic
+block of new flats, that Madame Recamier lived from 1814 until her
+death in 1849, visited latterly every day by the faithful
+Chateaubriand. M. Georges Cain has a charming chapter on this
+friendship and its scene in his _Promenades dans Paris_, of which an
+English translation, entitled _Walks in Paris_, has recently been
+published.
+
+Returning to the Boulevard St. Germain, which we leave as often as we
+touch it, I remember that, on the south side, between the Invalides
+end and the statue of the inventor of the semaphore, used to be a
+little shop devoted to the sale of trophies of Joan of Arc. And since
+it used to be there, it follows that it is there still, for nothing in
+Paris ever changes. One of the great charms of Paris is that it is
+always the same. I can think of hardly any shop that has changed in
+the last ten years. This means, I suppose, that the French rarely die.
+How can they, disliking as they do to leave Paris? It is the English
+and the Scotch, born to forsake their homes and live uncomfortably
+foreign lives, who die.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PONT ALEXANDRE III
+    (FROM THE EAST)
+    EIFFEL TOWER
+    TROCADERO]
+
+If one is interested in seeing the Pasteur Institute, now is the
+time, for it is not far from the Rue de Sevres, in the Rue Falguiere,
+named after Falguiere the sculptor of the memorial to Pasteur in the
+Place Breteuil: one of the best examples of recent Paris statuary,
+with a charming shepherd boy playing his pipe to his flock on one side
+of the pediment, and grimmer scenes of disease on the others. This
+monument, however, is some distance from the Institute, the Place
+Breteuil being the first carrefour in that vast and endless avenue
+which leads southwards from Napoleon's tomb. The Institute itself has
+a spirited statue of Jupille the shepherd, one of its first patients,
+in his struggle with the wolf that bit him. Pasteur's tomb is here,
+but I have not seen it, as I arrived on the wrong day.
+
+One of the most attractive of the Boulevard St. Germain's byways is
+entered just round the corner of the Rue de Rennes. This is the Cour
+du Dragon, which is not only a relic of old Paris, but old Paris is
+still visible hard at work in it. The Cour du Dragon is a narrow court
+gained by an archway over which a red dragon perches, holding up the
+balcony with his vigorous pinions. It was the Hotel Taranne in the
+reigns of Charles VI. and VII. and Louis XI.; later it became a famous
+riding and fencing school. It is now a cheerful nest of
+artisans--coppersmiths, locksmiths, coal merchants and the like, who
+fill it with brisk hammerings, while at the windows above, with their
+green shutters, the songs of caged birds mingle in the symphony.
+
+As in all Parisian streets or courts where signs are hung, the golden
+key is prominent. (There is one in Mr. Dexter's picture of the Rue de
+l'Hotel de Ville.) What the proportion of locksmiths is to the
+population of Paris I cannot say; but their pretty symbol is to be
+seen everywhere. The reason of their numbers is not very mysterious
+when we recollect that practically every one that one meets in this
+city, and certainly all the people of the middling and working
+classes, live in flats, and all want keys. The streets and streets of
+the small houses with which East London is covered are unknown in
+Paris, where every facade is but the mask which hides vast tenements
+packed with families. No wonder then that the serrurier is so busy.
+
+Another sign which probably puzzles many English people is that of the
+stoppeur. Bellows' dictionary does not recognise the word. What is a
+stoppeur and what does he stop? I discovered the answer in the most
+practical way possible; for a Frenchman, in a crowd, helped me to it
+by pushing his lighted cigar into my back and burning a hole in it,
+right in the middle of the coat, where a patch would necessarily show.
+I was in despair until the femme de chambre reassured me. It was
+nothing, she said: all that was needed was a stoppeur. She would take
+the coat herself. It seems that the stoppeur's craft is that of
+mending holes so deftly that you would not know there had been any. He
+ascertains the pattern by means of a magnifying glass, and then
+extracts threads from some part of the garment that does not show and
+weaves them in. I paid three francs and have been looking for the
+injured spot ever since, but cannot find it. It is a modern miracle.
+
+Diagonally opposite the Court of the Dragon is the Church of St.
+Germain--not the St. Germain who owns the church at the east end of
+the Louvre, but St. Germain des Pres, a lesser luminary. It has no
+particular beauty, but a number of frescoes by Flandrin, the pupil of
+Ingres, give it a cachet. Flandrin's bust is to be observed on the
+north wall. The frescoes cannot be seen except under very favourable
+conditions, and therefore for me the greatness of Flandrin has to be
+sought in his drawings at the Luxembourg and the Louvre--sufficient
+proof of his exquisite hand.
+
+Before descending the Rue Bonaparte to the river, let us ascend it to
+see the great church of St. Sulpice and its paintings by Delacroix in
+the Chapel of the Holy Angels. Under the Convention St. Sulpice was
+the Temple of Victory, and here General Bonaparte was feasted in 1799.
+The church is famous for its music and an organ second only to that of
+St. Eustache. And now let us descend the Rue Bonaparte to the quais,
+where several buildings await us, beginning with the Beaux-Arts at the
+foot of the street; but first the Rue Jacob, which bisects the Rue
+Bonaparte, should be looked at, for it has had many illustrious
+inhabitants, including our own Laurence Sterne, who lodged here, at
+No. 46, in the Hotel of his friend Madame Rambouillet (of the easy
+manners) when he was studying the French for _A Sentimental Journey_.
+It was here perhaps that he penned the famous opening sentence: "'They
+order,' said I, 'these things better in France'"--which no other
+writer on Paris has succeeded in forgetting. At No. 20 lived Adrienne
+Lecouvreur, and hither Voltaire must often have come, for he greatly
+admired her. At No. 7 is a fine old staircase and an old well in the
+court.
+
+The Palais des Beaux-Arts, where the Royal Academy Schools of Paris
+are situated, is an unexhilarating building containing a great number
+of unexciting paintings. Indeed, I think that no public edifice of
+Paris is so dreary: within and without one has a sense not exactly of
+decay but certainly of neglect. This is not the less odd when one
+thinks of the purpose of the institution, which is to foster the arts,
+and when one thinks also of the spotless perfection in which the Petit
+Palais, the latest of the Parisian picture galleries, is maintained.
+The spirit, however, is willing, if the flesh is weak, for in the
+first and second courts are examples of the best French architecture,
+and a bust of Jean Goujon is let into the wall of the Musee des
+Antiques. The building contains a number of casts of the best
+sculptures and an amphitheatre with Delaroche's pageant of painters on
+the hemicycle and Ingres' Victory of Romulus over the Sabines opposite
+it; but there is not always enough light to see either well. For the
+best view of Delaroche's great work one must go upstairs to the
+Gallery. The library also is upstairs, with many thousand of valuable
+works on art and a collection of drawings by the masters, access to
+which is made easy to genuine students.
+
+By returning to the first court we come to the Musee de la
+Renaissance, which now occupies an old chapel of the Couvent des
+Petits-Augustins, on the site of which the Palais de Beaux-Arts was
+built. Here are more casts and copies, and there are still more in the
+adjoining Cour du Murier, where stands the memorial of Henri Regnault,
+the painter, and the students who died with him during the defence of
+Paris in 1870-71.
+
+We then enter the Salle de Melpomene, so called from the dominating
+cast of the Melpomene at the Louvre, and are straightway among what
+seem at the first glance to be old friends from all the best galleries
+of the world but too quickly are revealed as counterfeits. Rembrandt's
+School of Anatomy and the Syndics, our own National Gallery Correggio,
+the Dresden Raphael, the Wallace Collection Velasquez (the Lady with a
+Fan), one of Hals' groups of arquebusiers, and Paul Potter's Bull: all
+are here, together with countless others, all the work of Beaux-Arts
+students, and some exceedingly good, but also (like most copies)
+exceedingly depressing.
+
+In other rooms almost pitch dark are modelled studies of expression
+and paintings which have won the Grand Prix of Rome during the past
+two hundred years. It is odd to notice how few names one recognises:
+it is as though, like the Newdigate, this prize were an end in itself.
+
+Having contemplated the statue of Voltaire in his robes outside the
+Institut, the next building of importance after the Beaux Arts, you
+may, if you so desire, gaze upon the same philosopher in a state of
+nature by entering the Institut itself, and ascending to its
+Bibliotheque. There he sits, the skinny cynic, among the books which
+he wrote and the books which he read and the books which would not
+have been written but for him. I was glad to see him thus, for it
+showed me where our own Arouet, Mr. Bernard Shaw, found his
+inspiration when he too subjected recently his economical frame to the
+maker of portraits. Mr. Shaw sat, however, only to a photographer
+(although a very good one, Mr. Coburn); when he visited Rodin it was
+for the head, a replica of which may be seen at the Luxembourg.
+Speaking of heads, the Institut is a wilderness of them: heads line
+the stairs; heads line the walls not only of its own Bibliotheque but
+of the Bibliotheque de Mazarin, which also is here, a haven for every
+student that cares to seek it: heads of the great Frenchmen of all
+time and of the Caesars too.
+
+The Pont des Arts, which leads direct from the old Louvre to the
+Institut (a connection, if ever, no longer of any importance), is for
+foot passengers only. One is therefore more at ease there in observing
+the river than on the noisy bridge of stone. But it is inexcusably
+ugly and leaves one continually wondering what Napoleon was about to
+allow it to be built--and of iron too--in his day of good taste.
+Looking up stream, the Pont Neuf is close by with the thin green end
+of the Cite's wedge protruding under it and, in winter, Henri IV.
+riding proudly above. In summer, as Mr. Dexter's drawing shows, he is
+hidden by leaves. A basin has been constructed at this point from
+which the tide is excluded, and here are washing houses and swimming
+baths; for Parisians, having a river, use it.
+
+  [Illustration: LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR
+    J. VAN EYCK
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+The Hotel des Monnaies, close by the Beaux Arts, is another surprise.
+One would expect in such a country as France, with its meticulously
+exact control of its public offices, that its Mint, the institution in
+which its money was made, would be a miracle of precision and
+efficiency. Efficiency it may have; but its proceedings are casual
+beyond belief: the workmen in the furnaces loaf and smoke and stare at
+the visitors and exchange comments on them; the floors are cluttered
+up with lumber; the walls are dirty; the doors do not fit. A very
+considerable amount of work seems to be accomplished--there are
+machines constantly in movement which turn out scores of coins a
+minute, not only for France but for her few and dispiriting colonies
+and for other countries; and yet the feeling which one has is that
+France here is noticeably below herself.
+
+I was shown round by a very charming attendant, who handled the new
+coins as though he loved them and took precisely that pride in the
+place that the Government seems to lack. The design on the French
+franc, although it ought to be cut, I think, a little deeper, a little
+more boldly, is very attractive, both obverse and reverse, and it is a
+pleasant sight to see the bright creatures tumbling out of the
+machine as fast as one can count. Pleasanter still is it to the frail
+human eye when the same process is repeated with golden
+Louis'--baskets full of which stand negligently about as though it
+were the cave of the Forty Thieves.
+
+An Englishman's perhaps indiscreet questions as to what precautions
+were taken to prevent leakage amused the guide beyond all reason. "It
+is impossible," he said; "the coins are weighed. They must correspond
+to the prescribed weight." "But who," my countryman went on, in the
+relentless English way, "checks the weigher?" "Another," said the
+guide. "But a time must come," continued the Briton, who probably had
+a business of his own and had suffered, "when there is no one left to
+check--when the last man of all is officiating: how then?" Our guide
+laughed very happily, and repeated that there were no thieves there;
+and I daresay he is right. "Perhaps," I said, to the English
+inquisitor, "perhaps, like assistants in sweet shops, they are allowed
+at first to help themselves so much that they acquire a disgust for
+money." He looked at me with eyes of stone. I think he had Scotch
+blood. "Perhaps," he said at last.
+
+My own contribution to the guide's entertainment was the production,
+before a machine that was shooting five-franc pieces into a bowl at
+the rate of one a second, of the four bad (demonetise) coins of the
+same value which had been forced upon me during the few days I had
+then been in Paris. They gave immense delight. Several mintners (or
+whatever they are called) stopped working in order to join in the
+inspection. It was the general opinion that I had been badly treated:
+although, of course, I ought to have known. Three of the coins were
+simply those of other nations no longer current in France, and for
+them I could get from two to three francs each at an exchange. Unless,
+of course, a man of the world put in, I liked to sell them to a
+waiter, and then I should get perhaps a slightly better price. "Be
+careful, however," said he, "that he does not give them back to you in
+the next change." The fourth coin was frankly base metal and ought not
+to have taken in a child. That, by the way, was given to me at a Post
+Office, the one under the Bourse, and I find that Post Offices are
+notorious for this habit with foreigners. The mintners generally
+agreed that it was a scandal, but they did so without heat--bearing
+indeed this misfortune (not their own) very much as their countryman
+La Rochefoucauld had observed men to do.
+
+After the coins we saw the medal-stampers at work, each seated in a
+little hole in the ground before his press. The French have a natural
+gift for the designing of medals, and they are interested in them as
+souvenirs not only of public but of private events--such as silver
+weddings, birthdays and other anniversaries. Upstairs there is a
+collection of medals by the best designers--such as Roty, Patey,
+Carial, Chaplain, Dupuis, Dupre--many of them charming. Here also are
+collections of the world's coinage and of historical French medals.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE LATIN QUARTER
+
+     Old Prints--Procope, Tortoni, and Le Pere Lunette--The
+     Luxembourg Palace--Rodin--Modern Paintings--A Sinister
+     Crypt--A Garden of Sculpture--The Students of the Latin
+     Quarter--The Sorbonne--A Beautiful Museum--The Cluny's
+     Treasures--Marat and Danton--Old Streets and Dirty--The
+     River Bievre--Inspired Topography--Dante in Paris.
+
+
+The high road from the centre of Paris to the Latin Quarter is across
+the Pont du Carrousel and up the narrow Rue Mazarine, which skirts the
+Institut. We have seen on the Quai des Celestins the site of one of
+Moliere's theatres: here, at Nos. 12-14, is the house in which he
+established his first theatre, on the last day of 1643. The Rue
+Mazarin runs into the Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie Francaise, at No. 14
+in which was that theatre, whose successor stands at the foot of the
+Rue Richelieu. Parallel with the Rue Mazarin is the Rue de Seine,
+interesting for its old print shops, not the least interesting
+department of which is the portfolios containing students' sketches,
+some of them very good. (I might equally have said some of them very
+bad.)
+
+Crossing the Boulevard St. Germain we climb what is now the Rue de
+l'Odeon to the Place and theatre of that name, with the statue of
+Augier the dramatist before it. The Place de l'Odeon demands some
+attention, for at No. 1, now the Cafe Voltaire, was once the famous
+Cafe Procope, very significant in the eighteenth century, the resort
+of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists, and later of the Revolutionaries.
+Camille Desmoulins indeed made it his home. You may see within
+portraits of these old famous habitues. Procopio, a Sicilian who
+founded his establishment for the shelter of poor actors and students
+(whom Paris then loathed in private life), was the father of all the
+Paris cafes.
+
+The Cafe Procope was to men of intellect what some few years later
+Tortoni's was to men of fashion. The Cafe Tortoni was in the Boulevard
+des Italiens. Let Captain Gronow tell its history: "About the
+commencement of the present [nineteenth] century, Tortoni's, the
+centre of pleasure, gallantry, and entertainment, was opened by a
+Neapolitan, who came to Paris to supply the Parisians with good ice.
+The founder of this celebrated cafe was by name Veloni, an Italian,
+whose father lived with Napoleon from the period he invaded Italy,
+when First Consul, down to his fall. Young Veloni brought with him his
+friend Tortoni, an industrious and intelligent man. Veloni died of an
+affection of the lungs, shortly after the cafe was opened, and left
+the business to Tortoni; who, by dint of care, economy, and
+perseverance, made his cafe renowned all over Europe. Towards the end
+of the first Empire, and during the return of the Bourbons, and Louis
+Philippe's reign, this establishment was so much in vogue that it was
+difficult to get an ice there; after the opera and theatres were over,
+the Boulevards were literally choked up by the carriages of the great
+people of the court and the Faubourg St. Germain bringing guests to
+Tortoni's.
+
+"In those days clubs did not exist in Paris, consequently the gay
+world met there. The Duchess of Berri, with her suite, came nearly
+every night incognito; the most beautiful women Paris could boast of,
+old maids, dowagers, and old and young men, pouring out their
+sentimental twaddle, and holding up to scorn their betters,
+congregated here. In fact, Tortoni's became a sort of club for
+fashionable people; the saloons were completely monopolised by them,
+and became the rendez-vous of all that was gay, and I regret to add,
+immoral.
+
+"Gunter, the eldest son of the founder of the house in Berkeley
+Square, arrived in Paris about this period, to learn the art of making
+ice; for prior to the peace, our London ices and creams were
+acknowledged, by the English as well as foreigners, to be detestable.
+In the early part of the day, Tortoni's became the rendez-vous of
+duellists and retired officers, who congregated in great numbers to
+breakfast; which consisted of cold pates, game, fowl, fish, eggs,
+broiled kidneys, iced champagne, and liqueurs from every part of the
+globe.
+
+"Though Tortoni succeeded in amassing a large fortune, he suddenly
+became morose, and showed evident signs of insanity: in fact, he was
+the most unhappy man on earth. On going to bed one night, he said to
+the lady who superintended the management of his cafe, 'It is time for
+me to have done with the world'. The lady thought lightly of what he
+said, but upon quitting her apartment on the following morning, she
+was told by one of the waiters that Tortoni had hanged himself."
+
+Some one should write a book--but perhaps it has been done--on the
+great restaurateurs. Paris would, of course, provide the lion's share;
+but there would be plenty of material to collect in other capitals.
+The life of our own Nicol of the Cafe Royal, for example, would not be
+without interest; and what of Sherry and Delmonico?
+
+While on the subject of meeting-places of remarkable persons, I might
+say that a latter-day resort of intellectuals who have allowed the
+world and its temptations to be too much for them is not so very far
+away from us at this point--the cabaret of Le Pere Lunette at No. 4
+Rue des Anglais. I do not say that this is a modern Procope, but it
+has some of the same characteristics: men of genius have met here and
+illustrious portraits are on the wall; but they are not frescoes such
+as could be included in this book, for old Father Spectacles puts
+satire before propriety.
+
+In the colonnade round the Odeon theatre are bookstalls, chiefly
+offering new books at very low rates. We emerge on the south side in
+the Rue Vaugiraud, with the Medicis fountain of the Luxembourg just
+across the road. The Luxembourg Palace was built by Marie de Medicis,
+the widow of Henri IV., and it fulfilled the functions of a palace
+until the Revolution, when, prisons being more important than palaces,
+it became a prison. Among those conveyed hither were the Vicomte de
+Beauharnais and his wife Josephine, who was destined one day to be
+anything but a prisoner. After the Revolution the Luxembourg became
+the Palace of the Directoire and then the Palace of the First Consul.
+In 1800 Napoleon moved to the Tuileries, and a little while afterwards
+he established the Senate here, and here it is still. I cannot
+describe the Palace, for I have never been in it, but the Musee I know
+well.
+
+The Luxembourg galleries are dedicated to modern art. They have
+nothing earlier than the nineteenth century, and may be said to carry
+on the history of French painting from the point where it is left in
+Room VIII. at the Louvre, while little is quite so modern as the
+permanent portion of the Petit Palais. One plunges from the street
+directly into a hall of very white sculpture, which for the moment
+affects the sight almost like the beating wings of gulls. The
+difference between French and English sculpture, which is largely the
+difference between nakedness and nudity, literally assaults the eye
+for the moment; and then the more beautiful work quietly begins to
+assert itself--Rodin's "Pensee," on the left, holding the attention
+first and gently soothing the bewildered vision. Rodin indeed
+dominates this room, for here are not only his "Pensee" (the "Penseur"
+is not so very far away, two hundred yards or so, at the Pantheon),
+but his "John the Baptist," gaunt and urgent in the wilderness (with
+Dubois' "John the Baptist as a boy" near by, to show from what
+material prophets are evolved) and the exquisite "Danaides" and the
+"Age d'Airain," and the giant heads of Hugo and Rochefort, and the
+little delicate sensitive Don Quixotic head of Dalou the sculptor,
+which has just been added, and the George Wyndham and the G.B.S. and
+other recent portraits; while through the doorway to the next room one
+sees the "Baiser," immense and passionate. I reproduce both the
+"Baiser," opposite page 294, and the "Pensee," opposite page 46.
+
+Other work here that one recalls is the charming group by Fremiet,
+"Pan and the Bear Cubs," Dubois' fascinating "Florentine Singing-boy
+of the Fifteenth Century," a peasant by Dalou, a Great Dane and
+puppies by Le Courtier, and the very beautiful head in the doorway to
+Room I.--"Femme de Marin," by Cazin the painter. But other visitors,
+other tastes, of course.
+
+Before entering Room I. there are two small rooms on the right of the
+sculpture gallery which should be entered, one given up to the more
+famous Impressionists and one to foreign work. The chief
+Impressionists are Degas, Renoir, Monet, Sisley and their companions,
+almost all of whom seem to me to have painted better elsewhere than
+here. Monet's "Yachts in the River" rise before me, as I write, with
+the warm sun upon them, and I still see in the mind's eye the torso of
+a young woman by Legros: but this room always depresses me, the effect
+largely I believe of the antipathetic Renoir. The other room has a
+floating population. Recently the painters have been Belgian: but at
+another time they may be German or English, when the Belgians will
+recede to the cellars or be lent to provincial galleries.
+
+The pictures in the Luxembourg are many, but the arresting hand is too
+seldom extended. Cleverness, the bane of French art, dominates. In the
+first room Rodin's "Baiser" is greater than any painting; but
+Harpignies' "Lever de Lune" is here, and here also is one of
+Pointelin's sombre desolate moorlands. In a glass case some delicate
+bowls by Dammouse are worth attention; but I think his work at the
+Arts Decoratifs at the Louvre is better. The second room is notable
+for the Fantin-Latour drawings in the middle, with others by Flandrin
+and Meissonier; the third for Carolus-Duran's "Vieux Lithographe" and
+a case of drawings by modern black and white masters, including Legros
+and Steinlen; here also is another Pointelin. In Room IV. is a coast
+scene--"Les Falaises de Sotteville," in a lovely evening light, by
+Bouland, which falls short of perfection but is very grateful to the
+eyes. In Room V. is a portrait group by Fantin-Latour recalling the
+"Hommage a Delacroix," which we saw in the Collection Moreau, but less
+interesting. The studio is that of Manet at Batignolles. Here also is
+a beautiful snow scene by Cazin--an oasis indeed. In Room VI. we find
+Cazin again with "Ishmael," and two sweet and misty Carrieres, a
+powerful if hard Legros, Carolus-Duran's portrait of the ruddy Papa
+Francais the painter, Blanche's vivid group of the Thaulow family,
+with the gigantic Fritz bringing the strength of a bull-fighter to the
+execution of one of his tender landscapes, and finally Whistler's
+portrait of his mother, which I reproduce on the opposite page--one of
+the most restful and gentlest deeds of his restless, irritable life.
+
+  [Illustration: PORTRAIT DE SA MERE
+    WHISTLER
+    _(Luxembourg)_]
+
+Room VII. is remarkable for Rodin's "Bellona" and Tissot's curious
+exercises in the genre of W. P. Frith--the story of the Prodigal Son.
+But the picture which I remember most clearly and with most pleasure
+is Victor Mottez's "Portrait of Madame M.," which has a deep quiet
+beauty that is very rare in this gallery. In the same room, placed
+opposite each other, although probably not with any conscious ironical
+intention, are a large scene in the Franco-Prussian War by De
+Neuville, and Carriere's "Christ on the Cross". In Room VIII. are a
+number of meretricious Moreaus, Caro-Delvalle's light and, to me,
+oddly attractive, group, "Ma Femme et ses Soeurs," and the portrait
+of Mlle. Moreno of the Comedie Francaise by Granie, which is
+reproduced opposite page 308, a picture with fascination rather than
+genius.
+
+In the doorway between Room VIII. and Room IX. hangs a small
+water-colour by Harpignies, but in Room IX. itself is nothing that I
+can recollect. Room X. has Picard's charming "Femme qui passe,"
+Harpignies' Coliseum, very like a Moreau Corot, and a Flandrin; and in
+Room XI. are Bastien Lepage's "Portrait of M. Franck," Le Sidaner's
+"Dessert," Vollon's "Port of Antwerp," very beautiful, and
+Carolus-Duran's famous portrait of "Madame G. F. and her children".
+
+On leaving the Musee it is worth while to take a few steps more to the
+left, for they bring us to another sinister souvenir of the Reign of
+Terror--to St. Joseph des Carmes, the Chapel of the Carmelite
+monastery in which, in September, 1792, the Abbe Sicard and other
+priests who had refused to take the oath of the Constitution were
+imprisoned and massacred, as described by Carlyle in Book I., Chapters
+IV. and V. of "The Guillotine," with the assistance of the narrative
+of one of the survivors, _Mon Agonie de Trente-Huit Heures_, by
+Jourgniac Saint-Meard. In the crypt one is shown not only the tombs
+but traces of the massacre.
+
+A walk in the Luxembourg gardens would, if one had been nowhere else,
+quickly satisfy the stranger as to the interest of the French in the
+more remarkable children of their country. In these gardens alone are
+statues, among many others, in honour of Chopin, Watteau, Delacroix,
+Sainte-Beuve, Le Play the economist, Fabre the poet, George Sand,
+Henri Murger, the novelist of the adjacent Latin Quarter, and Theodore
+de Banville, the modern maker of ballades and prime instigator of some
+of the most charming work in French form by Mr. Lang and Mr. Dobson
+and W. E. Henley. There are countless other statues of mythological
+and allegorical figures, some of them very striking. One of the most
+interesting of all is the "Marchand de Masques" by Astruc, among the
+masks offered for sale being those of Corot, Dumas, Berlioz and
+Balzac.
+
+The Luxembourg gardens lead to the Avenue de l'Observatoire, a broad
+and verdant pleasaunce with a noble fountain at the head, in the midst
+of which an armillary sphere is held up by four undraped female
+figures representing the four quarters of the globe, at whom a circle
+of tortoises spout water from the surface of the basin. Beneath the
+upholders of the sphere are eight spirited sea horses by Fremiet, the
+sculptor who designed "Pan and the Bear Cubs" in the Luxembourg.
+
+A few yards to the west of this fountain is one of the simplest and
+most satisfying of Parisian sculptured memorials, at the corner of the
+Rue d'Assas and the Boulevard de l'Observatoire--the bas-relief on the
+Tarnier maternity hospital, representing the benevolent Tarnier in his
+merciful work.
+
+Let us now descend the Boulevard St. Michel to the Sorbonne, which is
+the heart of the Latin Quarter (or perhaps the brain would be the
+better word), disregarding for the moment the Pantheon, and turning
+our backs on the Observatoire and the Lion de Belfort, in the streets
+around which, every September, the noisiest of the Parisian fairs
+rages, and on the Bal Bullier, where the shop assistants of this
+neighbourhood grasp each other in the dance every Thursday and Sunday
+night. Not that this high southern district of Paris is not
+interesting; but it is far less interesting than certain parts nearer
+the Seine, and this book may not be too long.
+
+The Sorbonne is not exciting, but it is not unamusing to watch young
+France gaining knowledge. I have called it the heart of the Latin
+Quarter, although when one thinks of the necessitous, irresponsible
+youthful populace of these slopes, it is rather in a studio than in a
+lecture centre that one would fix its cardiac energy. That, however,
+is the fault of Du Maurier and Murger; for I suppose that for every
+artist that the Latin Quarter fosters it has scores of other students.
+But here I am in unknown territory. This book, which describes (as I
+warned you) Paris wholly from without, is never so external as among
+the young bloods who are to be met at night in the Cafe Harcourt, or
+who dance at the annual ball of the Quatz'-Arts, or plunge themselves
+into congenial riots when unpopular professors mount the platform. I
+know them not; I merely rejoice in their existence, admire their long
+hair and high spirits and happy indigence, and wish I could join them
+among Jullien's models, or in the disreputable cabaret of Le Pere
+Lunette, or at a solemn disputation, such as that famous one in which
+the sophist Buridan, after being thrown into the Seine in a sack and
+rescued, "maintained for a whole day the thesis that it was lawful to
+slay a Queen of France".
+
+The Sorbonne takes its name from Robert de Sorbon, the confessor of
+St. Louis, who had suffered much as a theological student and wished
+others to suffer less; for students in his day existed absolutely on
+charity. St. Louis threw himself into his confessor's scheme, and the
+Sorbonne, richly endowed, was opened in 1253, in its original form
+occupying a site in a street with the depressing name of Coupe-Gueule.
+From a hostel it soon became the Church's intellect, and for five
+and a half centuries it thus existed, almost continually, I regret to
+say, pursuing what Gibbon calls "the exquisite rancour of theological
+hatred". Its hostility to Joan of Arc and the Reformation were alike
+intense. Richelieu built the second Sorbonne, on the site of the
+present one. The Revolution in its short sharp way put an end to it as
+a defender of the faith, and in 1808, under Napoleon, it sprang to
+life again with a broader and humaner programme as the Universite de
+France.
+
+  [Illustration: THE FONTAINE DE MEDICIS
+    (GARDEN OF THE LUXEMBOURG)]
+
+Although arriving on the wrong day (a very easy thing to do in Paris)
+I induced the concierge to show me Puvis de Chavannes' vast and
+beautiful fresco in the Sorbonne's amphitheatre, entitled "La
+Source"--which is, I take it, the spring of wisdom. Thursday is the
+right day. In the chapel is the tomb of Richelieu, a florid monument
+with the dying cardinal and some very ostentatious grief upon it. Near
+by stands an elderly gentleman who charges twice as much for postcards
+as the dealers outside; but one must not mind that. The church is not
+impressive, nor has a recent meretricious work by Weerts, representing
+the Love of Humanity and the Love of Country--the crucified Christ and
+a dead soldier--done it much good. Before it is a monument to Auguste
+Comte.
+
+And now let us descend the hill and cheer and enrich our eyes in one
+of the most remarkable museums in the world--the Cluny. Paris is too
+fortunate. To have the Louvre were enough for any city, but Paris also
+has the Carnavalet. To have the Carnavalet were enough, but Paris
+also has the Cluny. The Musee de Cluny is devoted chiefly to applied
+art, and is a treasury of mediaeval taste. It is an ancient building,
+standing on the site of a Roman palace, the ruins of whose baths still
+remain. The present mansion was built by a Benedictine abbot in the
+fifteenth century: it became a storehouse of beautiful and rare
+objects in 1833, when the collector Alphonse du Sommerard bought it;
+and on his death the nation acquired both the house and its treasures,
+which have been steadily increasing ever since. Without, the Cluny is
+a romantic blend of late Gothic and Renaissance architecture: within,
+it is like the heaven of a good arts-and-craftsman; or, to put it
+another way, like an old curiosity shop carried out to the highest
+power. I do not say that we have not as good collections at South
+Kensington; but it is beyond doubt that the Cluny has a more
+attractive setting for them.
+
+To particularise would merely be to convert these pages into an
+incomplete catalogue (and what is duller than that?), but I may say
+that one passes among sculpture and painting, altar-pieces and
+knockers, pottery and tapestry, Spanish leather and lace, gold work
+and glass, enamel and musical instruments, furniture (the state bed of
+Francis I.) and ivories (note those by Van Opstal), ironwork and
+jewels, fireplaces and exquisite slippers. The old keys alone are
+worth hours: some of them might almost be called jewels; be sure to
+look at Nos. 6001 and 6022. Everything is remarkable. Writing in
+London, in a thick fog, at some distance of time since I saw the
+Cluny last, I remember most vividly those keys and a banc d'orfevre
+near them; a chimney-piece, beautiful and vast, from an old house at
+Chalons-sur-Marne; certain carvings in wood in the great room next the
+Thermes: the "Quatre Pleurants" of Claus de Worde; a dainty Marie
+Madeleine by a Fleming, about 1500 (there is another Marie Madeleine,
+in stone, in an adjacent room, kneeling with her alabaster box of
+ointment, but by no means penitent); and the Jesus on the Mount of
+Olives with the sleeping disciples. I remember also, in one of the
+faience galleries, two delightful groups by Clodion--a "Satyre male"
+with two baby goat-feet playing by him, and a "Satyre femelle," very
+charming, also with two little shaggy mites at her knees. The "Fils de
+Rubens," in his little chair, is also a pleasant memory; and there is
+one of those remarkable Neapolitan reconstructions of the Nativity, of
+which the museum at Munich has such an amazing collection--perhaps the
+prettiest toys ever made.
+
+But as I have said, the Cluny is wonderful throughout, and it is
+almost ridiculous to particularise. It is also too small for every
+taste. For the lover of the hues that burn in Rhodian ware it is most
+memorable for its pottery; while of the many Parisians who visit it in
+holiday mood a large percentage make first for the glass case that
+contains its two famous ceintures.
+
+The Curator of the Carnavalet, as we have seen, is a topographer and
+antiquary of distinction; the Director of the Cluny, M. Haraucourt, is
+a poet, one of whose ballads will be found in English form in a later
+chapter. He is in a happy environment, although his Muse does not
+look back quite as, say, Mr. Dobson's loves to do. The singer of the
+"Pompadour's Fan" and the "Old Sedan Chair" would be continually
+inspired at the Cluny.
+
+In the Gardens of the Musee we can feel ourselves in very early times;
+for the baths are the ruins of a Roman palace built in 306, the home
+for a while of Julian the Apostate; a temple of Mercury stood on the
+hill where the Pantheon now is; and a Roman road ran on the site of
+the Rue St. Jacques, just at the east of the Cluny, leading out of
+Paris southwards to Italy.
+
+On leaving the Cluny let us take a few steps westward along the Rue de
+l'Ecole de Medicine, and stop at No. 15, where the Cordeliers' Club
+was held, whither Marat's body was brought to lie in state. His house,
+in which Charlotte Corday stabbed him, was close by, where the statue
+of Broca now stands. In the Boulevard St. Germain, at the end of the
+street, we come to Danton's statue and more memories of the
+Revolution. "What souvenirs of the past," says Sardou, "does the
+statue of Danton cast his shadow upon. At No. 87 Boulevard St.
+Germain--where the woman Simon keeps house! it was there 31st March,
+1793--at six o'clock in the morning, the rattling of the butt ends of
+muskets was heard on the pavement in the midst of wild cries and
+protestations of the crowd, they had dared to arrest Danton, the Titan
+of the Revolution, the man of the 10th of August!--at the same time on
+the Place de l'Odeon, at the corner of the Rue Crebillon, Camille
+Desmoulins had been arrested. An hour later they were both in the
+Luxembourg prison, and it was there Camille heard of the death of his
+mother.
+
+"The Passage du Commerce still exists. It is a most picturesque old
+quarter, rarely visited by Parisians. At No. 9 is Durel's library,
+where Guillotin in 1790 practised cutting off sheep's heads with 'his
+philanthropic beheading machine'. It is generally given out that he
+was guillotined himself, but 'Lempriere' says he died quietly in his
+bed, of grief at the infamous abuse his instrument was put to. In the
+shop close by was the printing office of the _l'Ami du Peuple_, and
+Marat in his dressing-gown (lined with imitation panther skin) used to
+come and correct the proofs of his bloody journal."
+
+Between the Cluny and the river is a network of very old, squalid and
+interesting streets. Here the students of the middle ages found both
+their schools and their lodgings: among them Dante himself, who refers
+to the Rue de Fouarre (or straw, on which, following the instructions
+of Pope Urban V., the students sat) as the Vico degli Strami. It has
+now been demolished. The two churches here are worth a visit--St.
+Severin and St. Julien-le-Pauvre, but the reader is warned that the
+surroundings are not too agreeable. In the court adjoining St Julien's
+are traces of the wall of Philip Augustus, of which we saw something
+at the Mont de Piete.
+
+All these streets, as I say, are picturesque and dirty, but I think
+the best is the Rue de Bievre, which runs up the hill of St. Etienne
+from the Quai de Montebello, opposite the Morgue, and can be gained
+from St. Julien's by the dirty Rue de la Boucherie, of which this
+street and its westward continuation, the Rue de la Huchette,
+Huysmans, the French novelist and mystic, writes--as of all this
+curious district--in his book, _La Bievre et Saint Severin_, one of
+the best examples of imaginative topography that I know. Let us see
+what he says of the Bievre, the little river which gives the street
+its name and which once tumbled down into the Seine at this point, but
+is now buried underground like the New River at Islington.
+
+"The Bievre," he writes, "represents to-day one of the most perfect
+symbols of feminine misery exploited by a big city. Originating in the
+lake or pond of St. Quentin near Trappes, it runs quietly and slowly
+through the valley that bears its name. Like many young girls from the
+country, directly it arrives in Paris the Bievre falls a victim to the
+cunning wide-awake industry of a catcher of men.... To follow all her
+windings, it is necessary to ascend the Rue du Moulin des Pres and
+enter the Rue de Gentilly, and then the most extraordinary and
+unsuspected journey begins."
+
+Inspired by the passage of which these are the opening words, I set
+out one day to trace the Bievre to daylight, but it was a cheerless
+enterprise, for the Rue Monge is a dreary street, and the new
+Boulevards hereabouts are even drearier because they are wider. I
+found her at last, by peeping through a hoarding in the Boulevard
+Arago, with tanneries on each side of her; and then I gave it up.
+
+  [Illustration: LA BOHEMIENNE
+    FRANZ HALS
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+At the Cluny we saw the Thermes, a visible sign of Roman occupation;
+just off the Rue Monge is another, the amphitheatre, still in very
+good condition, with the grass growing between the crevices of the
+great stone seats. You will find it in the Place des Arenes, a vestige
+of Roman manners and pleasures now converted into an open space for
+children and _bonnes_ and surrounded by flats. But save for the
+desertion that the ages have brought it, the arena is not so very
+different, and standing there, one may easily reconstruct the
+spectators and see again the wild beasts emerging from the underground
+passages, which still remain.
+
+And now for the Pantheon, which rises above us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE PANTHEON AND ST. GENEVIEVE
+
+     A Church's Vicissitudes--St. Genevieve--A Guardian of
+     Paris--Illustrious Converts--_The Golden Legend_--A
+     Sabbath-breaker--Genevieve's Sacred Body--Her Tomb--The
+     Pantheon Frescoes--Joan of Arc--The Pantheon Tombs--Mirabeau
+     and Marat--Voltaire's Funeral--The Thoughts of the
+     Thinker--From the Dome--St. Etienne-du-Mont--The Fate of St.
+     Genevieve--The Relic-hunters--The Mystery of the Wine-press.
+
+
+The Pantheon, like the Madeleine, has had its vicissitudes. The new
+Madeleine, as we shall see, was begun by Napoleon as a splendid Temple
+of military glory and became a church; the new Pantheon was begun by
+Louis XV. as a splendid cathedral and became a Temple of Glory, not,
+however, military but civil. Louis XV., when he designed its erection
+on the site of the old church, intended it to be the church of St.
+Genevieve, whose tomb was its proudest possession; when the Revolution
+altered all that, it was made secular and dedicated "aux grands hommes
+la patrie reconnaissante," and the first grand homme to be buried
+there was Mirabeau (destined, however, not to remain a grand homme
+very long, as we shall see), and the next Voltaire. In 1806 Napoleon
+made it a church again; in 1830 the Revolutionaries again secularised
+it; in 1851 it was consecrated again, and in 1885 once more it became
+secular, to receive the body of Victor Hugo, and secular it has
+remained; and considering everything, secular it is likely to be, for
+whatever of change and surprise the future holds for France, an excess
+of ecclesiastical ecstasy is hardly probable.
+
+So much of Louis XV.'s idea remains, in spite of the perversion of his
+purpose, that scenes from the life of St. Genevieve are painted on the
+Pantheon's walls and sculptured on its facade; while in its last
+sacred days the church was known again as St. Genevieve's. Possibly
+there are old people in the neighbourhood who still call it that. I
+hope so.
+
+The life of St. Genevieve, as told in _The Golden Legend_, is rather a
+series of facile miracles than a human document, as we say. She was
+born in the fifth century at Nanterre, and early became a protegee of
+St. Germain, who vowed her to chastity and holiness, from which she
+never departed. Her calling, like that of her new companion on the
+canon, St. Joan, was that of shepherdess, and one of Puvis de
+Chavannes' most charming frescoes in the Pantheon represents her as a
+shadowy slip of a girl kneeling to a crucifix while her sheep graze
+about her. I reproduce it opposite the next page. Her mother, who had,
+like most mothers, a desire that her daughter should marry and have
+children, once so far lost her temper as to strike Genevieve on the
+cheek; for which offence she became blind. (A very comfortable corner
+of heaven is, one feels, the due of the mothers of saints.) She
+remained blind for a long time, until remembering that St. Germain had
+promised for her daughter miraculous gifts, she sent for Genevieve and
+was magnanimously cured. After the death of her parent, Genevieve
+moved to Paris, and there she lived with an old woman, dividing the
+neighbourhood into believers and unbelievers in her sanctity, as is
+ever the way with saints. Here the Devil persecuted and attacked her
+with much persistence and ingenuity, but wholly without effect.
+
+During her long life she made Paris her principal home, and on more
+than one occasion saved it: hence her importance not only to the
+Parisians, who set her above St. Denis (whom she reverenced), but to
+this book. Her power of prayer was gigantic; she literally prayed
+Attila the Hun out of his siege of Paris, and later, when Childeric
+was the besieger and Paris was starving, she brought victuals into the
+city by boat in a miraculous way: another scene chosen by Puvis de
+Chavannes in his Pantheon series. Childeric, however, conquered, in
+spite of Genevieve, but he treated her with respect and made it easy
+for her to approach Clovis and Clotilde and convert them to
+Christianity--hence the convent of St. Genevieve, which Clovis
+founded, remains of which are still to be seen by the church of St.
+Etienne-du-Mont, in the two streets named after those early
+Christians--the Rue Clovis and the Rue Clotilde. Christianity had been
+introduced into Paris by Saint Denis, Genevieve's hero, in the
+third century; but then came a reaction and the new faith lost ground.
+It was St. Genevieve's conversion of Clovis that re-established it on
+a much firmer basis, for he made it the national religion.
+
+  [Illustration: STE. GENEVIEVE
+    PUVIS DE CHAVANNES
+    (_Pantheon_)]
+
+"This holy maid," says Caxton, "did great penance in tormenting her
+body all her life, and became lean for to give good example. For sith
+she was of the age of fifteen years, unto fifty, she fasted every day
+save Sunday and Thursday. In her refection she had nothing but barley
+bread, and sometime beans, the which, sodden after fourteen days or
+three weeks, she ate for all delices. Always she was in prayers in
+wakings and in penances, she drank never wine ne other liquor, that
+might make her drunk, in all her life. When she had lived and used
+this life fifty years, the bishops that were that time, saw and beheld
+that she was over feeble by abstinence as for her age, and warned her
+to increase a little her fare. The holy woman durst not gainsay them,
+for our Lord saith of the prelates: Who heareth you heareth me, and
+who despiseth you despiseth me, and so she began by obedience to eat
+with her bread, fish and milk, and how well that, she so did, she
+beheld the heaven and wept, whereof it is to believe that she saw
+appertly our Lord Jesus Christ after the promise of the gospel that
+saith that, Blessed be they that be clean of heart for they shall see
+God; she had her heart and body pure and clean."
+
+Caxton also tells quaintly the story of one of the first miracles
+performed by Genevieve's tomb: "Another man came thither that gladly
+wrought on the Sunday, wherefor our Lord punished him, for his hands
+were so benumbed and lame that he might not work on other days. He
+repented him and confessed his sin, and came to the tomb of the said
+virgin, and there honoured and prayed devoutly, and on the morn he
+returned all whole, praising and thanking our Lord, that by the worthy
+merits and prayers of the holy virgin, grant and give us pardon,
+grace, and joy perdurable."
+
+To St. Genevieve's tomb we shall come on leaving the Pantheon, but
+here after so much about her adventures when alive I might say
+something about her adventures when dead. She was buried in 511 in the
+Abbey church of the Holy Apostles, on the site of which the Pantheon
+stands. Driven out by the Normans, the monks removed the saint's body
+and carried it away in a box; and thereafter her remains were destined
+to rove, for when the monks returned to the Abbey they did not again
+place them in the tomb but kept them in a casket for use in
+processions whenever Paris was in trouble and needed supernatural
+help. Meanwhile her tomb, although empty, continued to work miracles
+also.
+
+Early in the seventeenth century her bones were restored to her tomb,
+which was made more splendid, and there they remained until the
+Revolution. The Revolutionists, having no use for saints, opened
+Genevieve's tomb, burned its contents on the Place de Greve, and
+melted the gold of the canopy into money. They also desecrated the
+church of St. Etienne-du-Mont (which we are about to visit) and made
+it a Temple of Theophilanthropy. A few years later the stone coffer
+was removed to St. Etienne-du-Mont, where it now is, gorgeously
+covered with Gothic splendours; but as to how minute are the fragments
+of the saint that it contains which must have been overlooked by the
+incendiary Revolutionaries, I cannot say. They are sufficient,
+however, still to cure the halt and the lame and enable them to leave
+their crutches behind.
+
+The Pantheon is a vast and dreary building, sadly in need of a little
+music and incense to humanise it. The frescoes are interesting--those
+of Puvis de Chavannes in particular, although a trifle too wan--but
+one cannot shake off depression and chill. The Joan of Arc paintings
+by Lenepveu are the least satisfactory, the Maid of this artist
+carrying no conviction with her. But when it comes to that, it is
+difficult to say which of the Parisian Maids of art is satisfactory:
+certainly not the audacious golden Amazon of Fremiet in the Place de
+Rivoli. Dubois' figure opposite St. Augustin's is more earnest and
+spiritual, but it does not quite realise one's wishes. I think that I
+like best the Joan in the Boulevard Saint-Marcel, behind the Jardin
+des Plantes.
+
+The vault of the Pantheon may be seen only in the company of a guide,
+and there is a charge. To be quite sure that Rousseau is in his grave
+is perhaps worth the money; but one resents the fee none the less.
+Great Frenchmen's graves--especially Victor Hugo's--should be free to
+all. There is no charge at the Invalides. You may stand beside Heine's
+tomb in the Cimetiere de Montmartre without money and without a guide,
+but not by Voltaire's in the Pantheon; Balzac's grave in Pere Lachaise
+is free, Zola's in the Pantheon costs seventy-five centimes.
+
+The guide hurries his flock from one vault to another, at one point
+stopping for a while to exchange badinage with an echo. Rousseau, as I
+have said, is here; Voltaire is here; here are General Carnot,
+President Carnot with a mass of faded wreaths, Soufflot--who designed
+the Pantheon, thinking his work was for St. Genevieve, and who died of
+anxiety owing to a subsidence of the walls; Victor Hugo, and, lately
+moved hither, not without turmoil and even pistol shots, the historian
+of the Rougon-Macquart family and the author of a letter of accusation
+famous in history.
+
+Not without turmoil! which reminds one that the Pantheon's funerals
+have been more than a little grotesque. I said, for example, that
+Mirabeau was the first prophet of reason to be buried here, amid a
+concourse of four hundred thousand mourners; yet you may look in vain
+for his tomb. And there is a record of the funeral of Marat, in a car
+designed by David; yet you may look in vain for Marat's sarcophagus
+also. The explanation (once more) is that we are in France, the land
+of the fickle mob. For within three years of the state burial of
+Mirabeau, with the National Guard on duty, the Convention directed
+that he should be exhumed and Marat laid in his place. Mirabeau's
+body therefore was removed at night and thrown into the earth in the
+cemetery of Clamart. Enter Marat. Marat, however, lay beneath this
+imposing dome only three poor months, and then off went he, a
+discredited corpse, to the graveyard of St. Etienne-du-Mont close by.
+Voltaire, however, and Rousseau held their own, and here they are
+still, as we have seen.
+
+Voltaire came hither under circumstances at once tragic and comic. The
+cortege started from the site of the Bastille, led by the dead
+philosopher in a cart drawn by twelve horses, in which his figure was
+being crowned by a young girl. Opposite the Opera house of that
+day--by the Porte St. Martin--a pause was made for the singing of
+suitable hymns (from the Ferney Hymnal!) and on it came again.
+Surrounding the car were fifty girls dressed by David for the part; in
+the procession were other damsels in the costumes of Voltaire's
+characters. Children scattered roses before the horses. What could be
+prettier for Voltaire? But it needed fine weather, and instead came
+the most appalling storm, which frightened all the young women
+(including Fame, from the car) into doorways, and washed all the
+colour from the great man's effigy.
+
+Remembering all these things, one realises that Rodin's _Penseur_, who
+was placed before the Pantheon in 1906, has something to brood over
+and break his mind upon.
+
+I noticed also among the graves that of one Ignace Jacqueminot, and
+wondering if it were he who gave his name to the rose, I was so
+conscious of gloom and mortality that I hastened to the regions of
+light--to the sweet air of the Mont du Paris and the blue sky over
+all. And later I climbed to the lantern--a trifle of some four hundred
+steps--and looked down on Paris and its river and away to the hills,
+and realised how much better it was to be a live dog than a dead lion.
+
+For the tomb of St. Genevieve we have only a few steps to take, since
+it stands, containing all of her that was not burned, in the church of
+St. Etienne-du-Mont. The first martyr, although he gives his name to
+the church and is seen suffering the stone-throwers in the relief over
+the door, is, however, as nothing. St. Genevieve is the true patron.
+
+St. Etienne's is one of the most interesting churches in Paris,
+without and within. The facade is bizarre and attractive, with its
+jumble of styles, its lofty tower and Renaissance trimmings, and the
+sacristan's prophet's-house high up, on the northern side of the odd
+little extinguisher. You see this best, and his tiny watchdog
+trotting up and down his tiny garden, by descending the hill a little
+way and then turning. Within, the church is fascinating. The pillars
+of the very lofty nave and aisles are slender and sure, the vaulting
+is delicate and has a unique carved marble rood-loft to divide the
+nave from the choir, stretching right along the church, with a rampe
+of great beauty. The pulpit is held up by Samson seated upon his lion
+and grasping the jawbone of an ass.
+
+The last time I saw this pulpit was during the Fete of St. Genevieve,
+which is held early in January, when it contained a fluent nasal
+preacher to whom a congregation that filled every seat was listening
+with rapt attention. At the same time a moving procession of other
+worshippers was steadily passing the tomb, which was a blaze of light
+and heat from some hundreds of candles of every size. The man in front
+of me in the queue, a stout bourgeois, with his wife and two small
+daughters, bought four candles at a franc each. He was all nervousness
+and anxiety before then, but having watched them lighted and placed in
+position, his face became tranquil and gay, and they passed quickly
+out, re-entered their motor-cab and returned to the normal life.
+
+Outside the church was a row of stalls wholly given up to the sale of
+tokens of the saint--little biographies, medals, rosaries, and all the
+other pretty apparatus of the long-memoried Roman Catholic Church. I
+bought a silver pendant, a brief biography, and a tiny metal statue. I
+feel now that had I also bought a candle, as I was minded to, I should
+have escaped the cold that, developing two or three days later, kept
+me in bed for nearly a fortnight. One must be thorough.
+
+The church not only has agreeable architectural features and the tomb
+of this good woman, it has also some admirable glass, not exactly
+beautiful but very quaint and interesting, including a famous window
+by the Pinaigriers, representing the mystery of the wine-press, as
+drawn from Isaiah: "I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the
+people there was none with me". The colouring is very rich and
+satisfying, even if the design itself offends by its literalism and
+want of imagination--Christianity being figured by the blood of Christ
+as it gushes forth into barrels pressed from his body as relentlessly
+as ever was juice of the grape. All this is horrible, but one need not
+study it minutely. There are other windows less remarkable but not
+less rich and glowing.
+
+Other illustrious dust that lies beneath this church is that of Racine
+and Pascal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+TWO ZOOS
+
+     The Tour d'Argent--Frederic's Homage to America--A Marquis
+     Poet--The Halle des Vins--A Free Zoo--Peacocks in Love--A
+     Reminiscence--The Museums of the Jardin des Plantes--A
+     Lifeless Zoo--Babies in Bottles--The Jardin
+     d'Acclimatation--The Cheerful Gallas--A Pretty Stable--Dogs
+     on Velvet--A Canine Pere Lachaise--The Sunday
+     Sportsmen--Panic at the Zoos--The Besieged Resident--The
+     Humours of Famine.
+
+
+On the day of one of my visits to the Jardin des Plantes I lunched at
+the Tour d'Argent, a restaurant on the Quai de la Tournelle, famous
+among many dishes for its delicious canard a la presse. No bird on
+this occasion passed through that luxurious mill for me: but the
+engines were at work all around distilling essential duck with which
+to enrich those slices from the breast that are all that the epicure
+eats. Over a simpler repast I studied a bewildering catalogue of the
+"Creations of Frederic"--Frederic being M. Frederic Delair, a
+venerable chef with a head like that of a culinary Ibsen, stored with
+strange lore of sauces.
+
+By what means one commends oneself to Frederic I cannot say, but
+certain it is that if he loves you he will immortalise you in a dish.
+Americans would seem to have a short cut to his heart, for I find the
+Canape Clarence Mackay, the Filet de Sole Loie Fuller, the Filet de
+Sole Gibbs, the Fondu de Merlan Peploe, the Poulet de Madame J. W.
+Mackay, and the Poire Wanamaker. None of these joys tempted me, but I
+am sorry now that I did not partake of the Potage Georges Cain,
+because M. Georges Cain knows more about old Paris than any man
+living; and who knows but that a few spoonfuls of his Potage might not
+have immensely enriched this book! The Noisette de Pre-Sale Bodley
+again should have been nourishing, for Mr. Bodley is the author of one
+of the best of all the many studies of France. Instead, however, I ate
+very simply, of ordinary dishes--foundlings, so to speak, named after
+no one--and amused myself over my coffee in examining the Marquis
+Lauzieres de Themines' poesie sur les Creations de Frederic (to the
+air of "la Corde Sensible"). Two stanzas and two choruses will
+illustrate the noble poet's range:--
+
+     Que de filets de sole on y consomme!
+     Sole Neron, Cardinal, Maruka.
+     Dosamentes, Edson ... d'autres qu'on nomme
+     Victor Renault, Saintgall, Heredia.
+     La liste est longue! rognons, cotelettes,
+     Poulet Sigaud et Canard Mac-Arthur,
+     Filets de lievre Arnold White et Noisettes
+     De Pre-sale, Langouste Wintherthur.
+
+     Ce que je fais n'est pas une reclame,
+     Je vous le dis pour etre obligeant.
+     Je m'en voudrais d'encourir votre blame
+     Pour avoir trop vante LA TOUR D'ARGENT.
+     Les noms des OEufs de cent facons s'etalent,
+     OEufs Bucheron, oeufs Claude Lowther.
+     OEufs Tuck, Rathbone, oeufs Mackay que n'egalent
+     Que les chaud-froids de volaille Henniker.
+     Que d'entremets ont nom de "la Tournelle"!
+     Et plus souvent, le vocable engageant
+     Du restaurant, car plus d'un plat s'appelle
+     (Gibier, beignets, salade) "Tour d'Argent".
+
+     Ami lecteur, pour faire bonne chere,
+     Ecoute-moi, ne sois pas negligent,
+     Va-t-en diner, si ta sante t'est chere,
+     Au Restaurant nomme LA TOUR D'ARGENT.
+
+(Odd work for Marquises!)
+
+  [Illustration: THE MUSEE CLUNY (COURTYARD)]
+
+On the way to the Jardin des Plantes from this restaurant it is not
+unamusing to turn aside to the Halles des Vins and loiter a while in
+these genial catacombs. Here you may see barrels as the sands of the
+sea-shore for multitude, and raw wine of a colour that never yet
+astonished in a bottle, and I hope, so far as I am concerned, never
+will: unearthly aniline juices that are to pass through many dark
+processes before they emerge smilingly as vins, to lend cheerfulness
+to the windows of the epicier and gaiety to the French heart.
+
+Even with the most elementary knowledge of French one would take the
+Jardin des Plantes to be the Parisian Kew, and so to some small extent
+it is; but ninety-nine per cent. of its visitors go not to see the
+flora but the fauna. It is in reality the Zoo of the Paris
+proletariat. Paris, unlike London, has two Zoos, both of which hide
+beneath names that easily conceal their zoological character from the
+foreigner--the Jardin des Plantes, where we now find ourselves, which
+is free to all, and the Jardin d'Acclimatation, on the edge of the
+Bois de Boulogne, near the Porte Maillot, which costs money--a franc
+to enter and a ridiculous supplement to your cabman for the privilege
+of passing the fortifications in his vehicle: one of Paris's little
+mistakes. To the Jardin d'Acclimatation we shall come anon: just now
+let us loiter among the wild animals of the Jardin des Plantes, which
+is as a matter of fact a far more thorough Zoo than that selecter
+other, where frivolity ranks before zoology. Our own Zoo contains a
+finer collection than either, and our animals are better housed and
+ordered, but this Parisian people's Zoo has a great advantage over
+ours in that it is free. All zoological gardens should of course be
+free.
+
+The Jardin des Plantes has another and a dazzling superiority in the
+matter of peacocks. I never saw so many. They occur wonderfully in the
+most unexpected places, not only in the enclosures of all the other
+open-air animals, but in trees and on roofs and amid the
+bushes--burning with their deep and lustrous blue. But on the warm day
+of spring on which I saw them first they were not so quiescent.
+Regardless of the proprieties they were most of them engaged in
+recommending themselves to the notice of their ladies. On all sides
+were spreading tails bearing down upon the beloved with the steady
+determination of a three-masted schooner, and now and then caught like
+that vessel in a shattering breeze (of emotion) which stirred every
+sail. In England one might feel uncomfortable in the midst of so naked
+a display of the old Adam, but in Paris one becomes more reconciled to
+facts, and (like the new cat in the adage) ceases to allow "I am
+ashamed" to wait upon "I would". The peahens, however, behaved with a
+stolid circumspection that was beyond praise. These vestals never
+lifted their heads from the ground, but pecked on and on, mistresses
+of the scene and incidentally the best friends of the crowds of
+ouvriers and ouvrieres ("V'la le paon! Vite! Vite!") at every railing.
+But the Parisian peacock is not easily daunted. In spite of these
+rebuffs the batteries of glorious eyes continued firing, and wider and
+wider the tails spread, with a corresponding increase of disreputable
+deshabille behind; and so I left them, recalling as I walked away a
+comic occurrence at school too many years ago, when a travelling
+elocutionist, who had induced our headmaster to allow him to recite to
+the boys, was noticed to be discharging all his guns of tragedy and
+humour (some of which I remember distinctly at the moment) with a
+broadside effect that, while it assisted the ear, had a limiting
+influence on gesture and by-play, and completely eliminated many of
+the nuances of conversational give and take. Never throughout the
+evening did we lose sight of the full expanse of his shirt front;
+never did he turn round. Never, do I say? But I am wrong. Better for
+him had it been never: for the poor fellow, his task over and his
+badly needed guinea earned, forgot under our salvoes of applause the
+need of caution, and turning from one side of the platform to the
+other in stooping acknowledgment, disclosed a rent precisely where no
+man would have a rent to be.
+
+My advice to the visitor to the Jardin des Plantes is to be satisfied
+with the living animals--with the seals and sea-lions, the bears and
+peacocks, the storks and tigers; and, in fair weather, with the
+flowers, although the conditions under which these are to be observed
+are not ideal, so formally arranged on the flat as they are, with
+traffic so visibly adjacent. But to the glutton for museums such
+advice is idle. Here, however, even he is like to have his fill.
+
+Let him then ask at the Administration for a ticket, which will be
+handed to him with the most charming smile by an official who is
+probably of all the bureaucrats of Paris the least deserving of a tip,
+since zoological and botanical gardens exist for the people, and these
+tickets (the need for which is, by the way, non-existent) are free and
+are never withheld--but who is also of all the bureaucrats of Paris
+the most determined to get one, even, as I observed, from his own
+countrymen. Thus supplied you must walk some quarter of a mile to a
+huge building in which are collected all the creatures of the earth in
+their skins as God made them, but lifeless and staring from the hands
+of taxidermic man. It is as though the ark had been overwhelmed by
+some such fine dust as fell from Vesuvius, and was now exhumed. One
+does not get the same effect from the Natural History Museum in the
+Cromwell Road; it is, I suppose, the massing that does it here.
+
+Having walked several furlongs amid this travesty of wild and
+dangerous life, one passes to the next museum, which is devoted to
+mineralogy and botany, and here again are endless avenues of joy for
+the museephile and tedium for others. Lastly, after another quarter of
+a mile's walk, the palatial museum of anatomy is reached, the
+ingenious art of the late M. Fremiet once more providing a hors
+d'oeuvre. At the Arts Decoratifs we find on the threshold a man
+dragging a bear cub into captivity; at the Petit Palais, St. George is
+killing the dragon just inside the turnstile; and here, near the
+umbrella-stand, is a man being strangled by an orang-outang. Thus
+cheered, we enter, and are at once amid a very grove of babies in
+bottles: babies unready for the world, babies with two heads, babies
+with no heads at all, babies, in short, without any merit save for the
+biologist, the distiller, and the sightseer with strong nerves. From
+the babies we pass to cases containing examples of every organ of the
+human form divine, and such approximations as have been accomplished
+by elephants and mice and monkeys--all either genuine, in spirits, or
+counterfeited with horrible minuteness in wax. Also there are
+skeletons of every known creature, from whales to frogs, and I noticed
+a case illustrating the daily progress of the chicken in the egg.
+
+And now for the other Zoo, the Zoo of the classes. Perhaps the best
+description is to call it a playground with animals in it. For there
+are children everywhere, and everything is done for their
+amusement--as is only natural in a land where children persist through
+life and no one ever tires. In the centre of the gardens is an
+enclosure in which in the summer of 1908 were encamped a colony of
+Gallas, an intelligent and attractive black people from the border of
+Abyssinia, who flung spears at a target, and fought duels, and danced
+dances of joy and sorrow, and rounded up zebras, and in the intervals
+sold curiosities and photographs of themselves with ingratiating
+tenacity. It was a strange bizarre entertainment, with greedy
+ostriches darting their beaks among the spectators, and these
+shock-headed savages screaming through their diversions, and now and
+again a refined slip of a black girl imploring one mutely to give a
+franc for a five centimes picture postcard, or murmuring incoherent
+rhapsodies over the texture of a European dress.
+
+All around the enclosure the Parisian children were playing, some
+riding elephants, others camels, some driving an ostrich cart, and all
+happy. But the gem of the Jardin is the Ecurie, on one side for
+ponies--scores of little ponies, all named--the other for horses; on
+one side a riding school for children, on the other side a riding
+school for grown-up pupils, perhaps the cavalry officers of the
+future. The ponies are charming: Bibiche, landaise, Volubilite, cheval
+landais, Ceramon, cheval finlandais, Farceur, from the same country,
+Columbine, nee de Ratibor, and so forth. There they wait, alert and
+patient too, in the manner of small ponies, and by-and-by one is led
+off to the Petit manege for a little Monsieur Paul or Etienne to
+bestride. The Ecurie is a model of its kind, with its central
+courtyard and offices for the various servants, sellier, piqueur and
+so forth.
+
+  [Illustration: LA LECON DE LECTURE
+    TERBURG
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Near by is a castellated fortress which might belong to a dwarf of
+blood but is really a rabbit house. Every kind of rabbit is here, with
+this difference from the rabbit house in our Zoo, that the animals are
+for sale; and there is a fragrant vacherie where you may learn to
+milk; and in another part is a collection of dogs--tou-tous and
+lou-lous and all the rest of it--and these are for sale too. This is
+as popular a department as any in the Jardin. The expressions of
+delight and even ecstasy which were being uttered before some of the
+cages I seem still to hear.
+
+The Parisians may be kind fathers and devoted mothers: I am sure that
+they are; but to the observer in the streets and restaurants their
+finest shades of protective affection would seem to be reserved for
+dogs. One sees their children with bonnes; their dogs are their own
+care. The ibis of Egypt is hardly more sacred. An English friend who
+has lived in the heart of Paris for some time in the company of a fox
+terrier tells me that on their walks abroad in the evening the number
+of strangers who stop him to pass friendly remarks upon his pet or ask
+to be allowed to pat it--or who make overtures to it without
+permission--is beyond belief. No pink baby in Kensington Gardens is
+more admired. Dogs in English restaurants are a rarity: but in Paris
+they are so much a matter of course that a little patee is always
+ready for them.
+
+It was of course a French tongue that first gave utterance to the
+sentiment, "The more I see of men the more I like dogs"; but I cannot
+pretend to have observed that the Frenchman suffers any loss in
+prestige or power from this attention to the tou-tou and the lou-lou.
+Nothing, I believe, will ever diminish the confidence or success of
+that lord of creation. He may to the insular eye be too conscious of
+his charms; he may suggest the boudoir rather than the field of battle
+or the field of sport; he may amuse by his hat, astonish by his beard,
+and perplex by his boots; but the fact remains that he is master of
+Paris, and Paris is the centre of civilisation.
+
+The Parisians not only adore their dogs in life: they give them very
+honourable burial. We have in London, by Lancaster Gate, a tiny
+cemetery for these friendly creatures; but that is nothing as compared
+with the cemetery at St. Ouen, on an island in the Seine. Here are
+monuments of the most elaborate description, and fresh wreaths
+everywhere. The most striking tomb is that of a Saint Bernard who
+saved forty persons but was killed by the forty-first--a hero of whose
+history one would like to know more, but the gate-keeper is curiously
+uninstructed.[2]
+
+  [2] I have since learned that this is the same dog, Barry by
+      name, who has a monument on the St. Bernard Pass, and is stuffed
+      in the Natural History Museum at Berne. But I know nothing of
+      his connexion with Paris.
+
+I walked among these myriad graves, all very recent in date, and was
+not a little touched by the affection that had gone to their making. I
+noted a few names: Petit Bob, Esperance (whose portrait is in
+bas-relief accompanied by that of its master), Peggie, Fan, Pincke,
+Manon, Dick, Siko, Leonette (aged 17 years and 4 months), Toby, Kiki,
+Ben-Ben ("toujours gai, fidele et caressant"--what an epitaph to
+strive for!), Javotte, Nana, Lili, Dedjaz, Trinquefort, Teddy and
+Prince (whose mausoleum is superb), Fifi (who saved lives), Colette,
+Dash (a spaniel, with a little bronze sparrow perching on his tomb),
+Boy, Bizon (who saved his owner's life and therefore has this
+souvenir), and Mosque ("regrette et fidele ami"). There must be
+hundreds and hundreds altogether, and it will not be long before
+another "Dog's Acre" is required.
+
+Standing amid all the little graves I felt that the one thing I wanted
+to see was a dog's funeral. For surely there must be impressive
+obsequies as a preparation to such thoughtful burial. But I did not.
+No melancholy cortege came that way that afternoon; Fido's pompes
+funebres are still a mystery to me.
+
+But to my mind the best dogs in Paris are not such toy pets as for the
+most part are here kept in sacred memory, but those eager pointers
+that one sees on Sunday morning at the Gare du Nord, and indeed at all
+the big stations, following brisk, plump sportsmen with all the opera
+bouffe insignia of the chase--the leggings and the belt and the great
+satchel and the gun. For the Frenchman who is going to shoot likes the
+world to know what a lucky devil he is: he has none of our furtive
+English unwillingness to be known for what we are. I have seen them
+start, and I have waited about in the station towards dinner time just
+to see them return, with their bags bulging, and their steps springing
+with the pride and elation of success, and the faithful pointers
+trotting behind.
+
+Everything is happy at the Jardins des Plantes and d'Acclimatation
+to-day: but it was not always so. During a critical period of 1870 and
+1871 the cages were in a state of panic over the regular arrival of
+the butcher--not to bring food but to make it. Mr. Labouchere, the
+"Besieged Resident," writing on December 5th, 1870, says: "Almost all
+the animals in the Jardin d'Acclimatation have been eaten. They have
+averaged about 7 f. a lb. Kangaroo has been sold for 12 f. the lb.
+Yesterday I dined with the correspondent of a London paper. He had
+managed to get a large piece of mufflon, and nothing else, an animal
+which is, I believe, only found in Corsica. I can only describe it by
+saying that it tasted of mufflon, and nothing else. Without being
+absolutely bad, I do not think that I shall take up my residence in
+Corsica, in order habitually to feed upon it."
+
+On December 18th Mr. Labouchere was at Voisin's. The bill of fare, he
+says, was ass, horse and English wolf from the Zoological Gardens.
+According to a Scotch friend, the English wolf was Scotch fox. Mr.
+Labouchere could not manage it and fell back on the patient ass.
+Voisin's, by the way, was the only restaurant which never failed to
+supply its patrons with a meal. If you ask Paul, the head waiter, he
+will give you one of the siege menus as a souvenir.
+
+Mr. Labouchere's description of typical life during the siege may be
+quoted here as offering material for reflection as we loiter about
+this city so notable to-day for pleasure and plenty. "Here is my day.
+In the morning the boots comes to call me. He announces the number of
+deaths which have taken place in the hotel during the night. If there
+are many he is pleased, as he considers it creditable to the
+establishment. He then relieves his feelings by shaking his fist in
+the direction of Versailles, and exits growling 'Canaille de
+Bismarck'. I get up. I have breakfast--horse, _cafe au lait_--the
+_lait_ chalk and water--the portion of horse about two square inches
+of the noble quadruped. Then I buy a dozen newspapers, and after
+having read them discover that they contain nothing new. This brings
+me to about eleven o'clock. Friends drop in, or I drop in on friends.
+We discuss how long it is to last--if friends are French we agree that
+we are sublime. At one o'clock get into the circular railroad, and go
+to one or other of the city gates. After a discussion with the
+National Guards on duty, pass through. Potter about for a couple of
+hours at the outposts; try with glass to make out Prussians; look at
+bombs bursting; creep along the trenches; and wade knee-deep in mud
+through the fields. The Prussians, who have grown of late malevolent
+even towards civilians, occasionally send a ball far over one's head.
+They always fire too high. French soldiers are generally cooking food.
+They are anxious for news, and know nothing about what is going on. As
+a rule they relate the episode of some _combat d'avant-poste_ which
+took place the day before. The episodes never vary. 5 P.M.--Get back
+home; talk to doctors about interesting surgical operations; then drop
+in upon some official to interview him about what he is doing.
+Official usually first mysterious, then communicative, not to say
+loquacious, and abuses most people except himself. 7 P.M.--Dinner at a
+restaurant; conversation general; almost every one in uniform. Still
+the old subjects--How long will it last? Why does not Gambetta write
+more clearly? How sublime we are; what a fool every one else is. Food
+scanty, but peculiar.... After dinner, potter on the Boulevards under
+the dispiriting gloom of petroleum; go home and read a book. 12
+P.M.--Bed. They nail up the coffins in the room just over mine every
+night, and the tap, tap, tap, as they drive in the nails, is the
+pleasing music which lulls me to sleep."
+
+Here is another extract illustrating the pass to which a hungry city
+had come: "Until the weather set in so bitter cold, elderly sportsmen,
+who did not care to stalk the human game outside, were to be seen from
+morning to night pursuing the exciting sport of gudgeon fishing along
+the banks of the Seine. Each one was always surrounded by a crowd
+deeply interested in the chase. Whenever a fish was hooked, there was
+as much excitement as when a whale is harpooned in more northern
+latitudes. The fisherman would play it for some five minutes, and
+then, in the midst of the solemn silence of the lookers-on, the
+precious capture would be landed. Once safe on the bank, the happy
+possessor would be patted on the back, and there would be cries of
+'Bravo!' The times being out of joint for fishing in the Seine, the
+disciples of Izaak Walton have fallen back on the sewers. The _Paris
+Journal_ gives them the following directions how to pursue their new
+game: 'Take a long strong line, and a large hook, bait with tallow,
+and gently agitate the rod. In a few minutes a rat will come and smell
+the savoury morsel. It will be some time before he decides to swallow
+it, for his nature is cunning. When he does, leave him five minutes to
+meditate over it; then pull strongly and steadily. He will make
+convulsive jumps; but be calm, and do not let his excitement gain on
+you, draw him up, _et voila votre diner_.'"
+
+There is still hardly less excitement when a fish is landed by a quai
+fisherman, but the emotion is now purely artistic.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE MADELEINE TO THE OPERA
+
+     From Temple to Church--Napoleon the Christian--The Chapelle
+     Expiatoire--More Irony of History--Mi-Careme--The Art of
+     Insolence--Spacious Streets--The Champions of
+     France--Marius--Letter-boxes and Stamps--The Facteur at the
+     Bed--Killing a Guide no Murder--The Largest Theatre in the
+     World--A Theatrical Museum.
+
+
+The Madeleine has had a curious history. The great Napoleon built it,
+on the site of a small eighteenth-century church, as a Temple of
+Glory, a gift to his soldiers, where every year on the anniversaries
+of Austerlitz and Jena a concert was to be held, odes read, and
+orations delivered on the duties and privileges of the warrior, any
+mention of the Emperor's own name being expressly forbidden. That was
+in 1806. The building was still in progress when 1815 came, with
+another and more momentous battle in it, and Napoleon and his proposal
+disappeared. The building of the Temple of Glory was continued as a
+church, and a church it still is; and the memory of Jena and
+Austerlitz is kept alive in Paris by other means (they have, for
+example, each a bridge), no official orations are delivered on the
+soldier's calling, no official odes recited. It was a noble idea of
+the Emperor's, and however perfunctorily carried out, could not have
+left one with a less satisfied feeling than some of the present
+ceremonials in the Madeleine, which has become the most fashionable
+Paris church. Napoleon, however, is not wholly forgotten, for in the
+apse, I understand, is a fresco representing Christ reviewing the
+chief champions of Christianity and felicitating with them upon their
+services, the great Emperor being by no means absent. Herr Baedeker
+says that the fresco is there, but I have not succeeded in seeing it,
+for the church is lit only by three small cupolas and is dark with
+religious dusk.
+
+Within, the Madeleine is a surprise, for it does not conform to its
+fine outward design. One expects a classic severity and simplicity,
+and instead it is paint and Italianate curves. The wisest course for
+the visitor is to avoid the steps and the importunate mendicants at
+the railings, and slip in by the little portal on the west side where
+the discreet closed carriages wait.
+
+Louis XVIII., with his passion--a very natural one--to obliterate
+Napoleon and the revolutionaries and resume monarchical continuity,
+wished to complete the Madeleine as a monument to Louis XVI. and Marie
+Antoinette; but he did not persevere with the idea. He built instead,
+on the site of the old cemetery of the Madeleine, where Louis XVI. and
+the Queen had been buried, the Chapelle Expiatoire. It is their memory
+only which is preserved here, for, after Waterloo, their bones were
+carried to St. Denis, where the other French kings lie. Their
+statues, however, are enshrined in the building (which is just off the
+Boulevard Haussmann, isolated solemnly and impressively among chestnut
+trees and playing children), the king being solaced by an angel who
+remarks to him in the words used by Father Edgeworth on the scaffold,
+"Fils de St. Louis, montez au ciel!" and the queen by religion,
+personified by her sister-in-law, Madame Elizabeth. The door-keeper,
+who conducted me as guide, was in raptures over Louis XVI.'s lace and
+the circumstance that he was hewn from a single block of marble. I
+liked his enthusiasm: these unfortunate monarchs deserve the utmost
+that sculptor and door-keeper can give them.
+
+Paris has changed its mind more completely and frequently than any
+city in the world--and no illustration of that foible is better than
+this before us. Consider the sequence: first the king; then the
+prisoner; then the execution--the body and head being carried to the
+nearest cemetery, the Madeleine, where the guillotine's victims were
+naturally flung, and carelessly buried. Ten months later the queen's
+body and head follow. (It is said that the records of the Madeleine
+contain an entry by a sexton, which runs in English, "Paid seven
+francs for a coffin for the Widow Capet".) That was in 1793. Not until
+1815 do they find sepulture befitting them, and then this chapel rises
+in their honour and they become saints.
+
+  [Illustration: LA DENTELLIERE
+    JAN VERMEER OF DELFT
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Among other bodies buried here was that of Charlotte Corday. Also the
+Swiss Guards, whom we saw meeting death at the Tuileries. A strange
+place, and to-day, in a Paris that cares nothing for Capets, a perfect
+example of what might paradoxically be called well-kept neglect.
+
+To me the Madeleine has always a spurious air: nothing in it seems
+quite true. Externally, its Roman proportions carry no hint of the
+Christian religion; within, there is a noticeable lack of reverence.
+Every one walks about, and the Suisses are of the world peculiarly and
+offensively worldly. Standing before the altar with its representation
+of the Magdalen, who gives the church its name, being carried to
+Heaven, it is difficult to realise that only thirty-eight years ago
+this very spot was running red with the blood of massacred Communards.
+
+I remember the Madeleine most naturally as I saw it once at Mi-Careme,
+from an upper window at Durand's, after lunch. It was a dull day and
+the Madeleine frowned on the human sea beneath it; for the Place
+before it and the Rue Royale were black with people. The portico is
+always impressive, but I had never before had so much time or such
+excellent opportunity to study it and its relief of the Last Judgment,
+an improbable contingency to which few of us were giving much thought
+just then. Not only were the steps crowded, but two men had climbed to
+the green roof and were sitting on the very apex of the building.
+
+The Mi-Careme carnival in Paris, I may say at once, is not worth
+crossing the Channel for. It is tawdry and stupid; the life of the
+city is dislocated; the Grands Boulevards are quickly some inches deep
+in confetti, all of which has been discharged into faces and even eyes
+before reaching the ground; the air is full of dust; and the places of
+amusement are uncomfortably crowded. The Lutetian humours of the Latin
+Quarter students and of Montmartre are not without interest for a
+short time, but they become tedious with extraordinary swiftness and
+certainty as the morning grows grey.
+
+Each side of the Madeleine has its flower markets, and they share the
+week between them. Round and about Christmas a forest of fir-trees
+springs up. At the back of the Madeleine omnibuses and trams converge
+as at the Elephant.
+
+For a walk along the Grands Boulevards this temple is the best
+starting-point; but I do not suggest that the whole round shall be
+made. By the Grands Boulevards the precisian would mean the half
+circle from the Madeleine to the Place de la Republique and thence to
+the Place de la Bastille; or even the whole circle, crossing the river
+by the Pont Sully to the Boulevard St. Antoine, which cuts right
+through the Surrey side and crosses the river by the Pont de la
+Concorde and so comes to the Rue Royale and the Madeleine again. Those
+are the Grands Boulevards; but when the term is conversationally used
+it means nothing whatever but the stretch of broad road and pavement,
+of vivid kiosques and green branches, between the Madeleine and the
+Rue Richelieu: that is the Grands Boulevards for the flaneur and the
+foreigner. All the best cafes to sit at, all the prettiest women to
+stare at, all the most entertaining shop windows, are found between
+these points.
+
+The prettiest women to stare at! Here I touch on a weakness in the
+life of Paris which there is no doubt the Boulevards have fostered.
+Staring--more than staring, a cool cynical appraisement--is one of the
+privileges which the Boulevardier most prizes. I have heard it said
+that he carries staring to a fine art; but it is not an art at all,
+and certainly not fine; it is just a coarse and disgusting liberty. It
+is nothing to him that the object of his interest is accompanied by a
+man; his code ignores that detail; he is out to see and to make an
+impression and nothing will stop him. One must not, however, let this
+ugly practice offend one's sensibility too much. Foreigners need not
+necessarily do as the Romans do, but it is not their right to be too
+critical of Rome; and liberty is the very air of the Boulevards. Live
+and let live. If one is going to be annoyed by Paris, one had better
+stay at home.
+
+The Grands Boulevards might be called the show-rooms of Paris: it is
+here that one sees the Parisians. In London one may live for years and
+never see a Londoner; not because Londoners do not exist, but because
+London has no show-rooms for their display. There is no Boulevard in
+London; the only streets that have a pavement capable of accommodating
+both spectators and a real procession of types are deserted, such as
+Portland Place and Kingsway. The English, who conquer and administer
+the world, dislike space; the French, a people at whose alleged want
+of inches we used to mock, rejoice in space. Think of the
+Champs-Elysees and the Bois, and then think of Constitution Hill and
+Hyde Park, and you realise the difference. Take a mental drive by any
+of the principal Boulevards--from the Madeleine eastward to the Place
+de la Republique and back to the Madeleine again by way of the
+Boulevards de Magenta and Clichy and down the Boulevard Malesherbes,
+and then take a mental drive from Hyde Park Corner by way of
+Piccadilly, the Strand, Fleet Street, Cannon Street, Lombard Street,
+Cheapside, Holborn, Oxford Street and Park Lane to Hyde Park Corner
+again and you realise the difference. In wet weather in Paris it is
+possible to walk all day and not be splashed. Think of our most
+fashionable thoroughfare, just by Long's Hotel, when it is
+raining--our Rue de la Paix. The only street in London of which a
+Frenchman would not be ashamed is the Mile End Road.
+
+At the Taverne Olympia--just past the old houses standing back from
+the pavement, on the left, which are built on the wall of the old
+moat, when this Boulevard really was a bulwark or fortification--at
+the Taverne Olympia, upstairs, is one of the few billiard saloons in
+Paris in which exhibition games are continually in progress, and in
+which one can fill many amusing half-hours and perhaps win a few
+louis. Years ago I used to frequent the saloon in a basement under the
+Grand Cafe, a few doors east of the Olympia, but it has lost some of
+its prestige. The best play now is at Olympia and at Cure's place in
+the Rue Vivienne. Every day of the year, for ever and ever, a billiard
+match is in progress. So you may say is, in the winter, the case in
+London at Burroughs and Watts', or Thurston's, but these are very
+different. In London the match is for a large number of points and it
+may last a week or a fortnight. Here there are scores of matches every
+afternoon and evening and the price of admission is a consommation. By
+virtue of one glass of coffee you may sit for hours and watch champion
+of France after champion of France lose and win, win and lose.
+
+The usual game is played by three champions of France and is for ten
+cannons off the red. The names of the players, on cards, are first
+flung on the table, and the amateur of sport advances from his seat
+and stakes five francs on that champion of France whom he favours.
+Five francs is the unit. On my first visit, years ago, the champion
+whom I, very unsoundly but not perhaps unnaturally, supported, was one
+Lucas. Poor fellow, on that afternoon he did his best, but he never
+got home. The great Marius was too much for him. Marius in those days
+was a very fine player and the hero of the saloon at the Grand Cafe. A
+Southerner I should guess; for I have seen his doubles by the score in
+the cafes of Avignon and Nimes. He was short and thick, with a bald
+head and a large sagacious nose and a saturnine smile and a heavy
+moustache. Winning and losing were all one to him, although it is
+understood that fifty centimes are contributed by each of his backers
+to a champion of France when he brings it off. Marius looked down his
+nose in the same way whatever happened. He was no Roberts; he had none
+of the Caesarian masterfulness, none of the Napoleonic decision, of
+that king of men. The modern French game does not lend itself to such
+commanding excellence, such Alpine distinction. The cannon is all:
+there is no longer any of the quiet and magical disappearance of the
+ball into a pocket which makes the English game so fascinating.
+
+Such was Marius when I first saw him, and quite lately I descended to
+his cellar again and found him unaltered, except that he was no longer
+a master except very occasionally, and that he had grown more
+sardonic. I do not wonder at it. It may not be, in Paris, "a lonely
+thing to be champion," as Cashel Byron says, but it must be a
+melancholy thing to be no longer the champion that you were. A home of
+rest for ex-champions would draw my guinea at once.
+
+The ten or eight cannons off the red, I might add, are varied now and
+then. Sometimes there is a match between two players for a hundred
+points. Sometimes three players will see which can first make eight
+cannons, each involving three cushions (trois bandes). This is a very
+interesting game to watch, although it may be a concession to
+decadence.
+
+  [Illustration: THE RUE DE BIEVRE
+    (FROM THE QUAI DE MONTEBELLO)
+    PANTHEON]
+
+We come next to the Rue Scribe, and crossing it, are at "Old England,"
+a shop where the homesick may buy such a peculiarly English delicacy
+as marmalade, beneath the shadow of the gigantic Grand Hotel,
+notable not only for its million bedrooms but for marking the position
+of one of the few post offices of Paris, and also the only shop in the
+centre of the city which keeps a large and civilised stock of Havana
+cigars. One can live without Havana cigars, but post offices are a
+necessity, and in Paris they conceal themselves with great success;
+while, as for letter-boxes, it has been described as a city without
+one. To a Londoner accustomed to the frequent and vivid occurrence at
+street corners of our scarlet obelisks, it is so. Quite recently I
+heard of a young Englishman, shy and incorrigibly one-languaged, who,
+during a week in Paris, entrusted all his correspondence to a
+fire-alarm. But, as a matter of fact, Paris has letter-boxes in great
+number, only for the most part they are so concealed as to be solely
+for the initiated. Directly one learns that every tobacconist also
+sells stamps and either secretes a letter-box somewhere beneath his
+window, or marks the propinquity of one, life becomes simple.
+
+Although normally one never has, in France, even in the official
+receptacle of one of the chief of the Bureaux des Postes, any of that
+confidence that one reposes in the smallest wall-box in England; yet
+one must perforce overcome this distrust or use only pneumatiques. The
+French do not carry ordinary letters very well, but if you register
+them nothing can keep the postman from you. A knock like thunder
+crashes into your dreams, and behold he is at your bedside, alert and
+important, be-ribboned with red tape, tendering for your signature a
+pen dipped in an inkstand concealed about his person. Every one who
+goes to France for amusement should arrange to receive one registered
+letter.
+
+Its letter-boxes may be a trifle farcical, but in its facilities given
+to purchasers of stamps France makes England look an uncivilised
+country. Why it should be illegal for any one but a postal official to
+supply stamps in my own land, I have never been informed, nor have any
+of the objections to the system ever been explained away. In France
+you may get your stamps anywhere--from tobacconists for certain; from
+waiters for certain; from the newspaper kiosques for certain; and from
+all tradespeople almost for certain: hence one is relieved of the
+tiresome delays in post offices that are incident to English life. But
+I am inclined to think that when it comes to the post office proper,
+England has the advantage. The French post office (when you have found
+it) is always crowded and always overheated; and you remember what I
+told the men in the Mint.
+
+To return to the Grand Hotel, I am minded to express the wish that
+something could be done to rid its pavement of the sly leering
+detrimental with an umbrella who comes up to the foreigner and offers
+his services as a guide to the night side of Paris. Not until an
+Englishman has killed one of these pests will this part of Paris be
+endurable. But from what I have observed I should say that few murders
+are less likely to occur....
+
+And so we come to the Cafe de la Paix, and turning to the left, the
+Opera is before us. The Opera is one of the buildings of Paris that
+are taken for granted. We do not look at it much: we think of it as
+occupying the central position, adjacent to Cook's, useful as a place
+of meeting; we buy a seat there occasionally, and that is all. And yet
+it is the largest theatre in the world (the work of that Charles
+Garnier whose statue is just outside), and although it is not exactly
+beautiful, its proportions are agreeable; it does not obtrude its size
+(and yet it covers three acres); it sits very comfortably on the
+ground, and an incredible amount of patient labour and thought went to
+its achievement, as any one may see by walking round it and studying
+the ornamentation and the statuary, among which is Carpeaux's famous
+lively group "La Danse". One very pleasant characteristic of the Opera
+is the modesty with which it announces its performances: nothing but a
+minute poster in a frame, three or four times repeated, giving the
+information to the passer-by. Larger posters would impair its superb
+reserve.
+
+The Opera has a little museum, the entrance to which is in the Rue
+Auber corner, by the statue of the architect (with his plan of the
+building traced in bronze below his bust). This museum is a model of
+its kind--small but very pertinent and personal in character. Here are
+one of Paganini's bows and his rosin box; souvenirs of Malibran
+presented to her by some Venetian admirers in 1835; Berlioz' season
+ticket for the Opera in 1838, and a page of one of his scores; Rossini
+in a marble statuette, asleep on his sofa, wearing that variety of
+whisker which we call a Newgate fringe; Rossini on his death-bed,
+drawn by L. Roux, and a page of a score and a cup and saucer used by
+him; a match box of Gounod's, a page of a score, and his marble bust;
+Meyerbeer on his death-bed, drawn by Mousseaux, a decoration worn by
+that composer, and a page of his score; two of Cherubini's tobacco
+boxes and a page of his score; Danton's clay caricature of Liszt--all
+hair and legs--at the piano, and a caricature of Liszt playing the
+piano while Lablache sings and Habeneck conducts; a bust of Fanny
+Cerrito, danseuse, in 1821--with a mischievous pretty face--that
+Cerrito of whom Thomas Ingoldsby rhymed; and a bust of Emma Livry, a
+danseuse of a later day, who died aged twenty-three from injuries
+received from fire during the repetition generale of the "Muette de
+Portici" on November 15th, 1862. In a little coffer near by are the
+remains of the clothes the poor creature was wearing at the time. What
+else is there? Many busts, among them Delibes the composer of
+"Coppelia," whose grave we shall see in the Cimetiere de Montmartre:
+here bearded and immortal; autograph scores by Verdi, Donizetti,
+Victor Masse, Auber, Spontini (whose very early piano also is here),
+and Herold; a caricature by Isabey of young Vestris bounding in
+mid-air, models of scenes of famous operas, and a host of other things
+all displayed easily in a small but sufficient room. If all museums
+were as compact and single-minded!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A CHAIR AT THE CAFE DE LA PAIX
+
+     The Green Hour--In the Stalls of Life--National Contrasts
+     and the Futility of Drawing Them--The Concierge--The
+     Benefice Hunters--The Claque--The Paris Theatre--The Paris
+     Music Hall--The Everlasting Joke--The Real French--A Country
+     of Energy--A City of Waiters--Ridicule--Women--Cabmen--The
+     Levelling of the Tourist--French Intelligence--The
+     Chauffeurs--The Paris Spectacle.
+
+
+And now since it is the "green hour"--since it is five o'clock--let us
+take a chair outside the Cafe de la Paix and watch the people pass,
+and meditate, here, in the centre of the civilised world, on this
+wonderful city of Paris and this wonderful country of France.
+
+I am not sure but that when all is said it is not these outdoor cafe
+chairs of Paris that give it its highest charm and divide it from
+London with the greatest emphasis. There are three reasons why one
+cannot sit out in this way in London: the city is too dirty; the air
+is rarely warm enough; and the pavements are too narrow. But in Paris,
+which enjoys the steadier climate of a continent and understands the
+aesthetic uses of a pavement, and burns wood, charcoal or anthracite,
+it is, when dry, always possible; and I, for one, rejoice in the
+privilege. This "green hour"--this quiet recess between five and six
+in which to sip an aperitif, and talk, and watch the world, and
+anticipate a good dinner--is as characteristically French as the
+absence of it is characteristically English. The English can sip their
+beverages too, but how different is the bar at which they stand from
+the comfortable stalls (so to speak) in the open-air theatres of the
+Boulevards in which the French take their ease.
+
+At every turn one is reminded that these people live as if the
+happiness of this life were the only important thing; while if we
+subtract a frivolous fringe, it may be said of the English that
+(without any noticeable gain in such advantages as spirituality
+confers) they are always preparing to be happy but have not yet enough
+money or are not yet quite ready to begin. The Frenchman is happy now:
+the Englishman will be happy to-morrow. (That is, at home; yet I have
+seen Englishmen in Paris gathering honey while they might, with both
+hands.)
+
+But the French and English, London and Paris, are not really to be
+compared. London and Paris indeed are different in almost every
+respect, as the capitals of two totally and almost inimically
+different nations must be. For a few days the Englishman is apt to
+think that Paris has all the advantages: but that is because he is on
+a holiday; he soon comes to realise that London is his home, London
+knows his needs and supplies them. Much as I delight in Paris I would
+make almost any sacrifice rather than be forced to live there; yet so
+long as inclination is one's only master how pleasant are her vivacity
+and charm. But comparisons between nations are idle. For a
+Frenchman there is no country like France and no city like Paris; for
+an Englishman England is the best country and London the most
+desirable city. For a short holiday for an Englishman, Paris is a
+little paradise; for a short holiday for a Frenchman, London is a
+little inferno.
+
+  [Illustration: GIRL'S HEAD
+    ECOLE DE FABRIANO
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+Each country is the best; each country has advantages over the other,
+each country has limitations. The French may have wide streets and
+spacious vistas, but their matches are costly and won't light; the
+English, even in the heart of London, may be contented with narrow and
+muddy and congested lanes, but their sugar at least is sweet.
+
+The French may have abolished bookmakers from their race-courses and
+may give even a cabman a clean napkin to his meals, but their tobacco
+is a monopoly. The English may fill their streets with newspaper
+posters advertising horrors and scandals, but they are permitted now
+and then to forget their vile bodies. The French may piously and
+prettily erect statues of every illustrious child of the State, but
+their billiard tables are now without pockets. London may have a
+cleaner Tube railway system than Paris, but Paris has the advantage of
+no lifts and a correspondence ticket at a trifling cost which will
+take you everywhere, whereas London's Tubes belonging to different
+companies the correspondence is expensive. Again with omnibuses,
+London may have more and better, but here again the useful
+correspondence system is to be found only in Paris.
+
+London may be in darkness for most of the winter and be rained upon by
+soot all the year round; but at any rate the Londoner is master in his
+own house or flat and not the cringing victim of a concierge, as every
+Parisian is. That is something to remember and be thankful for. Paris
+has an atmosphere, and a climate, and good food, and attentive
+waiters, and a cab to every six yards of the kerb, and no petty
+licensing tyrannies, and the Champs-Elysees, and immunity from lurid
+newspaper posters, and good coffee, and the Winged Victory, and Monna
+Lisa; but it also has the concierge. At the entrance to every house is
+this inquisitive censorious janitor--a blend in human shape of
+Cerberus and the Recording Angel. The concierge knows the time you go
+out and (more serious) the time you come in; what letters and parcels
+you receive; what visitors, and how long they stay. The concierge
+knows how much rent you pay and what you eat and drink. And the worst
+of it is that since the concierge keeps the door and dominates the
+house you must put a good face on it or you will lose very heavily.
+Scowl at the concierge and your life will become a harassment: letters
+will be lost; parcels will be delayed; visitors will be told you are
+at home; a thousand little vexations will occur. The concierge in
+short is a rod which, you will observe, it is well to kiss. The wise
+Parisian therefore is always amiable, and generous too, although in
+his heart he wishes the whole system at the devil.
+
+And here I ought to say that although one is thus conscious of
+certain of the defects and virtues of each nation, I have no belief
+whatever in any large interchange of characteristics being possible.
+Nations I think can borrow very little from each other. What is sauce
+for the goose is by no means necessarily sauce for the oie, and the
+meat of an homme can easily be the poison of a man.
+
+The French and the English base life on such different premises. To
+put the case in a nutshell, we may say that the French welcome facts
+and the English avoid them. The French make the most of facts; the
+English persuade themselves that facts are not there. The French write
+books and plays about facts, and read and go to the theatre to see
+facts; the English write books and plays about sentimental unreality,
+and read and go to the theatre in order to be diverted from facts. The
+French live quietly and resignedly at home among facts; the English
+exhaust themselves in games and travel and frivolity and social
+inquisitiveness, in order to forget that they have facts in their
+midst.
+
+One always used to think that the English were the most willing
+endurers of impositions and monopolies; but I have come to the
+conclusion that a people that can continue to burn French matches and
+use French ink and blotting-paper, bend before the concierge and
+suffer the claque and the French theatre attendant, must be even
+weaker. Only a people in love with slavery would continue to endure
+the black bombazined harpies who turn the French theatres into
+infernos, first by their very presence and secondly by their clamour
+for a benefice. They do nothing and they levy a tax on it. So far from
+exterminating them, this absurd lenient French people has even allowed
+them to dominate the cinematoscope halls which are now so numerous all
+over Paris. I sit and watch them and wonder what they do all day: in
+what dark corner of the city they hang like bats till the evening
+arrives and they are free to poison the air of the theatres and exact
+their iniquitous secret commission. The habit of London managers to
+charge sixpence for a programme--an advertisement of his wares such as
+every decent and courteous tradesman is proud to give away--is
+sufficiently monstrous; but I can never enough honour them for
+excluding these benefice hunters.
+
+Whatever may be said of French acting and French plays there is no
+doubt that our theatres are more comfortable and better managed. A
+Frenchman visiting a theatre in London has no difficulties: he buys
+his seat at the office, is shown to it and the matter ends. An
+Englishman visiting a theatre in Paris has no such ease. He must first
+buy his ticket (and let him scrutinise the change with some care and
+despatch); this ticket, however, does not, as in London, carry the
+number of his seat: it is merely a card of introduction to the three
+gentlemen in evening dress and tall hats who sit side by side in a
+kind of pulpit in the lobby. One of them takes his ticket, another
+consults a plan and writes a number on it, and the third hands it
+back. Another difficulty has yet to come, for now begins the turn of
+the harpies. Why the English custom is not followed, and a clean sweep
+made of both the men in the pulpit and the women inside, one has no
+notion; for in addition to being a nuisance they must reduce the
+profits.
+
+I mentioned the claque just now. That is another of the Frenchman's
+darling bugbears which the English would never stand. Every Frenchman
+to whom I have spoken about it shares my view that it is an
+abomination, but when I ask why it is not abolished he merely shrugs
+his shoulders: "Why should it be?--one can endure it," is the
+attitude; and that indeed is the Frenchman's attitude to most of the
+things that he finds objectionable. They are, after all, only
+trimmings; the real fabric of his life is not injured by them;
+therefore let them go on. Yet while one can understand the persistence
+of certain Parisian defects, the long life of the claque remains a
+mystery. Upon me the periodical and mechanical explosions of this body
+of hirelings have an effect little short of infuriation. One is told
+that the actors are responsible rather than the managers, and this
+makes its continuance the more unreasonable, for the result has been
+that in their efforts to acquire the illusion of applause, they have
+lost the real thing. French audiences rarely clap any more.
+
+When it comes to the consideration of the French stage, there is again
+no point in making comparisons. It is again a conflict of fact and
+sentiment. The French are intensely interested in the manifestations
+of the sexual emotion, and they have no objection to see the
+calamities and embarrassments and humours to which it may lead worked
+out frankly on the boards or in literature: hence a certain sameness
+in their plays and novels. The majority of the English still think
+that physical matters should be hidden: hence our dramatists and
+novelists having had to find other themes, adventure, eccentricity and
+character have won their predominant place. That is all there is to
+it. The French stage is the best--to a Frenchman or a gallicised
+Englishman; the English stage is the best--to the English. The English
+go rather to see; the French to hear. In other words a blind Frenchman
+would be better pleased with his national stage than a blind
+Englishman with his. The blind Frenchman would at any rate not miss
+the jokes, which, though he knew them all before, he could not resist;
+whereas the Englishman would be deprived of the visible touches of
+which the personae of our drama are largely built up. In a drama of
+passion, whether treated seriously or lightly, words necessarily are
+more than idiosyncrasies.
+
+  [Illustration: LE BENEDICITE
+    CHARDIN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+In the Paris music halls the comic singers merely sing--they have
+little but words to give. London music hall audiences may have an
+undue affection for red noses and sordid domestic details; but they do
+expect a little character, even if it is coarse character, during the
+evening, and they get it. There is little in the French hall.
+Personality is discouraged here; richness, quaintness, unction,
+irresponsibility, eccentricity--such gifts as once pleased us in
+Dan Leno and now are to be found in a lesser degree but very agreeably
+in Wilkie Bard--these are superfluities to a French comic singer. All
+that is asked of him is that he shall be active, shall have a resonant
+voice, and shall commit to memory a sufficient number of cynical
+reflections on life. A gramophone producing any rapid indecent song
+would please the French more than a hundred Harry Lauders. (And yet
+when all is said it must be far easier to live in a country where
+decency, as we understand and painfully cultivate it, has not
+everywhere to be considered. The life at any rate of the French
+author, publisher, editor and magistrate, to name no others, is
+immensely simplified.)
+
+But from my point of view the worst characteristic of the French music
+hall and variety stage is the revue. The revue is indeed a standing
+proof of the incontrovertible fact that however the hotel proprietors
+may feel about it, the Parisian does not want English people in his
+midst. (Why should he?) The revue in its quiddity is a device for
+excluding foreigners from theatres; for it is not only dull and
+monotonous, but being for the most part a satire on Parisian politics
+is incomprehensible too. I am not here to defend the English
+pantomime, but not all its agonies (as Ruskin called them) reach such
+a height of tedium as a revue can achieve. A Frenchman ignorant of
+English at Drury Lane on Boxing Night might be bewildered and even
+stunned; but he would at any rate know something of what was happening
+and his eyes would be kept busy. An Englishman at a revue knows
+nothing, for there is no story, and very little money is spent on the
+stage picture: it is just a steady cataract of topical talk. I have
+endured many revues, always hoping against hope that some one would be
+witty or funny, that some ingenious satirical device would occur. But
+I have never been rewarded. No matter what the nominal subject, the
+jokes have been the same: the old old mots a double entente, the old
+old outspoken indecency....
+
+The stream of people continues to be incessant and of incredible
+density--all walking at the same pace, all talking as only the French
+can talk, rich and poor equally owners of the pavement. Now and then a
+camelot offers a toy or a picture postcard; boys bring _La Patrie_ or
+_La Presse_; a performer bends and twists a piece of felt into every
+shape of hat, culminating in Napoleon's famous chapeau a cornes....
+
+One thing that one notices is the absence of laughter. The French
+laugh aloud very seldom. Even in their theatres, at the richest French
+jokes, their approval is expressed rather in a rippling murmur
+counterfeiting surprise than a laugh. Animation one sees, but on these
+Boulevards behind that is often a suggestion of anxiety. The dominant
+type of face seen from a chair at the Cafe de la Paix is not a happy
+one....
+
+It is when one watches this restless moving crowd, or the complacent
+audiences at the farces, or the diners in restaurants eating as if it
+were the last meal, and when one looks week after week at the comic
+papers of Paris, with their deadly insistence on the one and
+apparently only concern of Parisian life, that one has most of all to
+remind oneself that these people are not the French, and that one is a
+superficial tourist in danger of acquiring very wrong impressions.
+This is the fringe, the froth. One has only to remember a very few of
+the things we have seen in Paris to realise the truth of this. Never
+was a harder working people. Look at the early hours that Paris keeps:
+contrast them with London's slovenly awakening. Look at the amazing
+productivity of a notoriously idle and careless set--the artists: the
+old Salon with its miles of pictures twice a year, and the other
+Salons, hardly less crowded, and the minor exhibitions too. Look at
+the industry of the Paris stage: the new plays that are produced every
+week, involving endless rehearsals day and night. Look at the energy
+of the French authors, dramatic as well as narrative, of the
+journalists and printers. Think of the engineers, the motor-car
+manufacturers, the gardeners and the vintners. Think of the
+bottle-makers. (But one cannot: such a thought causes the head to reel
+in this city of bottles.) No, we are not seeing France, we foreign
+visitors to "the gay capital". Don't let us labour under any such
+mistake. The industrious, level-headed, cheerful French people do not
+exhibit themselves to the scrutinising eyes of the Cafe de la Paix, do
+not spend all their time as _Le Rire_ would have us believe, do not
+over eat and over drink.
+
+Around and about one all the time, as one watches this panorama, the
+swift and capable waiters are busy. Every one carries away from Paris
+one mastering impression upon the inward eye: I am not sure that mine
+is not a blur of waiters in their long white aprons. At the Paris
+Exhibition of 1900, over the principal entrance at the south-west
+corner of the Place de la Concorde, was the gigantic figure of a young
+and fashionable woman in the very heyday of her vivacity, allurement
+and smartness. She personified Paris. But not so would I symbolise
+that city. In any coat of arms of Paris that I designed would
+certainly be a capable young woman, but also a waiter, sleek,
+attentive and sympathetic.
+
+Paris may be a city of feminine charm and domination; but to the
+ordinary foreigner, and especially the Englishman, it is far more a
+city of waiters. Women we have in England too: but waiters we have
+not. There are waiters in London, no doubt, but that is the end of
+them: there are, to all intents and purposes, no waiters in the
+provinces, where we eat exclusively in our own houses. And even in
+London we must brace ourselves to find such waiters as there are: we
+must indulge in heroic feats of patience, and, once the waiter comes
+into view, exercise most of the vocal organs to attract his notice and
+obtain his suffrages. In other words, there is in London perhaps one
+waiter to every five thousand persons; whereas in Paris there are five
+thousand waiters, more or less, to every one person. Or so it seems.
+It is a city of waiters; it is _the_ city of waiters.
+
+Still the people stream by, and one wonders whence the idea comes that
+the French are a particularly small race. It is not true. Look at
+that tall boulevardier with some one else's hat (why do so many
+Frenchmen seem to be wearing other men's hats?) and the immense beard.
+Look at those two long-haired artists from the Latin Quarter, in
+velvet clothes and black sombreros. In England they would be stared at
+and laughed at; but here no one is laughed at at all, and only the
+women are stared at. It is interesting to note how little street
+ridicule there is in France. The Frenchman mocks, but he does not, as
+I think so many of the English do, search for the ridiculous; or at
+any rate it is not the same kind of ridiculousness that we pillory. In
+England we bring such sandpaper of prejudice and public opinion to
+bear upon eccentricity that every one becomes smooth and
+ordinary--like every one else. But in France--to the superficial
+observer, at any rate--individuality is encouraged and nourished; in
+France either no one is ridiculous or every one is.
+
+Some one once remarked to me that never in Paris do you see a woman
+with any touch of the woods. It is true. The Parisian women suggest
+the boudoir, the theatre, the salon, the sewing-room, the kitchen, and
+now and then even the fields; but never the woods....
+
+One misses also in Paris the boy of from fifteen to eighteen. Younger
+boys there are, and young men abound, but youths of that age one does
+not much see, and very rarely indeed a father and son together. In
+fact the generations seem to mix very little: in the restaurants men
+of the same age are usually together: beards lunch with beards....
+
+And the road is dense too. There is a block every few minutes, while
+the agents in the centre of the carrefour do their best to control the
+four streams of traffic. It is odd that a people with so much sense of
+order and red tape should fail so signally to produce an organiser of
+traffic. Certain it is that the stupidest Kentish giant who joins the
+Metropolitan police force has a better idea of such a duty than any of
+these polished gentlemen in caps. Partly perhaps because in London the
+police are feared and obeyed, and in Paris the drivers, particularly
+the cabmen, care for no one. The words Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite
+are not stencilled all over our churches and public buildings, you
+see.
+
+The cabmen! My impression now is, writing here in England, that the
+Paris cochers are all exactly alike. They have white hats and blue
+coats and bad horses and black moustaches, and their backs entirely
+fill the landscape. They beat their horses and shout at them all the
+time. One seldom sees an accident, although they never look as if they
+were going to avoid one. That is partly because they are a weary and
+cynical folk, and partly because in France the roads belong to
+vehicles, and not, as in England, to foot-passengers. In England if
+you are run over, you can prosecute the driver and get damages; in
+France if you are run over, the driver (one has always heard) can
+prosecute you for being in the way.
+
+  [Illustration: THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS
+    (LOOKING EAST)]
+
+No matter with what fervour is the entente fostered and nourished, the
+Parisian cabman will see to it that the hatchet is never too deeply
+interred, that the racial excrescences are not too smoothly planed.
+Polite hotel managers, obsequious restaurateurs, smiling sommeliers
+and irradiated shopkeepers may do their best to assure the Anglo-Saxon
+that he is among a people that exist merely to do him honour and adore
+his personality; but directly he hails a cab he knows better. The
+truth is then his. Not that the Parisian cocher hates a foreigner.
+Nothing so crude as that. He merely is possessed by a devil of
+contempt that prompts him to humiliate and confound us. To begin with
+he will not appear to want you as a fare; he will make it a favour to
+drive you at all. He will then begin his policy of humorous
+pin-pricks. Though you speak with the accent of Mounet-Sully himself
+he will force you to pronounce the name of your destination not once
+but many times, and then very likely he will drive you somewhere else
+first. You may step into his cab with a feeling that Paris is becoming
+a native city: you will emerge wishing it at the bottom of the sea.
+That is the cocher's special mission in life--subtly and insidiously
+to humiliate the tourist. He does it like an artist and as an
+artist--for his own pleasure. It is the only compensation that his
+dreary life carries.
+
+The French, I fancy, are not less capable of stupidity than any other
+people. There is an idea current that they are the most intelligent of
+races, but I believe this to be a fallacy, proceeding from the fact
+that the French language lends itself to epigrammatic expression, and
+that every French child dips his cup into the common reservoir of
+engaging idioms and adroit phrases. This means that French
+conversation, even among the humblest, is better than English
+conversation under similar and far more favourable conditions; but it
+means no more. It gives no real intelligence. The incapacity of the
+ordinary Frenchman to get enough imagination into his ear (so fine
+that it can distinguish between the most delicate vowel sounds in his
+own language) to enable it to understand a foreign pronunciation is
+partly a proof of this. But take him at any time off his regular
+lines, present a new idea to him, and he can be as stupid as a Sussex
+farm labourer. It is the same with America. Just as the French
+language imposes wit on its user, so is every American, man or woman,
+fitted at birth with the mechanism of humour. Yet how few are
+humorous!
+
+But the cocher is not the only cabman of Paris: there remains the
+driver of the auto. The motor cab has not elbowed out the horse cab in
+Paris as it has in London, nor probably will it, for the Parisians are
+not in a hurry; but for Longchamp and such excursions the auto is
+indispensable, and the motor cabman becomes more and more a
+characteristic of the streets. Our London chauffeurs are sufficiently
+implacable, blunt and churlish, but the Parisian chauffeur is like
+fate. There is no escape if you enter his car: he lights his
+cigarette, sinks his back into his seat, and his shoulders into his
+back, and his head into his shoulders, and drives like the devil. He
+seems to have no life of his own at all: he exists merely to urge his
+car wherever he is told. The foreigner has no hold whatever upon the
+chauffeur; he arranges the meter to whatever tariff he pleases, and
+before you can examine the dial at the end of the journey he has
+jerked up the flag. When you keep him waiting his meter devours your
+substance. Always terrible, he is worst in winter, when he is dressed
+entirely in hearth-rugs. The old cocher for me.
+
+But it grows chilly and it is dinner time. Let us go. Yet first I
+would remind you that we chose the Cafe de la Paix for our reverie
+only because it is the centre, and we were intent upon the centre. But
+the pavement chairs of all the cafes of Paris are interesting, and it
+is equally good to sit in any populous bourgeois quarter where one can
+watch the daily indigenous life of this city, which the visitor who
+remains for the most part in the visitors' districts can so easily
+miss. The busy, capable girls and women shopping--their pretty
+uncovered heads all so neatly and deftly arranged, and their bags and
+baskets in their hands; the chair mender blowing his horn; the teams
+of white horses, six or eight in single file, with high collars and
+bells, drawing blocks of stone or barrels of wine; the tondeur de
+chiens, with his mournful pipe and box of scissors; the brisk errand
+boys; the neat little milliners with their band-boxes; now and then a
+slovenly soldier and a well-groomed erect agent. Paris as a spectacle
+is perpetually new and amusing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE PLACE DE LA REPUBLIQUE
+
+     The Christmas Baraques--The Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin--The
+     Rue Laffitte--La Musee Grevin--The Bibliotheque
+     Nationale--The Roar of Finance--Tailors as Cartoonists--A
+     Bee-hive Street--Cities within the City--Pompes
+     Funebres--The Church as Advertiser--The Great
+     Marguery--Gates which are not Gates--The Life of St.
+     Denis--Highways from Paris--The First Theatre--St. Martin's
+     Act of Charity--The Arts et Metiers; a Modern Cluny--Statues
+     of the Republic.
+
+
+From the Place de l'Opera to the Place de la Republique is an
+interesting and instructive walk, but at no time of the day a very
+easy one; and between five o'clock and half-past six, and eight and
+ten, on the north pavement, it is always almost a struggle; but when
+the baraques are in full swing around Christmas and the New Year, it
+is a struggle in earnest, at any rate as far as the Rue Drouot. Indeed
+Christmas and New Year, but especially Christmas Eve and New Year's
+Eve, are great times in France, and presents are exchanged as
+furiously as with us.
+
+On Christmas Eve--Reveillon as it is called--no one would do anything
+so banal as to go to bed. The restaurants obtain a special permission
+to remain open, and tables are reserved months in advance.
+Montmartre, never very sleepy, takes on a double share of wakefulness.
+
+The first street on our left, the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, is one
+of the busiest in Paris, with excellent shops and many interesting
+associations. Madame Recamier lived at No. 7, the site of the Hotel
+d'Antin. So also did Madame Necker and Madame Roland, and for a while
+Edward Gibbon. Chopin lived at No. 5. This street, by the way, has
+suffered almost more than any other from the Parisian fickleness in
+nomenclature. It began as the Rue de la Chaussee Gaillon, then Rue de
+l'Hotel Dieu, then Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin, from Richelieu's Hotel
+d'Antin, then the Rue Mirabeau, from the revolutionary who lodged and
+died at No. 42, then, when Mirabeau's body was removed ignominiously
+from the Pantheon, the Rue Mont Blanc, and in 1815 it became once
+again the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin.
+
+At the foot of the Rue Laffitte one should stop, because one gets
+there a glimpse of Montmartre's white and oriental cathedral, hanging
+in mid-air, high above Paris and the church of Notre Dame de Lorette.
+This street is, to me, one of the most entertaining in the city, for
+almost every other shop is a picture-dealer's, and to loaf along it,
+on either side, is practically to visit a gallery. Two or three of
+these shops keep as a continual sign the words "Bronzes de Barye". The
+Rue Laffitte was named after the banker Jacques Laffitte, whose bank
+was in the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin. Cerutti, who delivered
+Mirabeau's funeral oration, set up his revolutionary journal _La
+Feuille Villageoise_ here. At the Hotel Thelusson at the end of the
+street the Incroyables and the Merveilleuses assembled. Among the
+guests was General Buonaparte, and it was here that he first met
+Josephine Beauharnais.
+
+The Musee Grevin, to which we soon come on the left, is the Parisian
+Tussaud's; and it is as much better than Tussaud's as one would expect
+it to be. Tussaud's is vast and brilliant; the Musee Grevin is small
+and mysterious. There is so little light that every one seems wax, and
+one has to look very narrowly and anxiously at all motionless figures.
+The particular boast of the Grevin is its groups: not so much the Pope
+and his pontifical cortege, the coulisses of the Opera (a scene of
+coryphees and men about town), and the Fete d'Artistes, as the
+admirable tableaux of the Revolution. To the untutored eye of one who,
+like myself, avoids waxworks, the Grevin figures and grouping are good
+and, what is perhaps more important, intelligent. Pains have been
+taken to make costumes and accessories historically accurate, and in
+many cases the actual articles have been employed, notably in the
+largest tableau of all--"Une Soiree a Malmaison"--which was arranged
+under the supervision of Frederic Masson, the historian, an effigy of
+whom stands near by. Among these scenes the historical sense of the
+French child can be really quickened. There are also tableaux of Rome
+in the time of the early Christians--very clever and painful.
+
+  [Illustration: MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE
+    MADAME LE BRUN
+    _(Louvre)_]
+
+At the Rue Drouot, at the conjunction of the Boulevards des
+Italiens and de Montmartre, there is an angle. Hitherto we have been
+walking west by north; we now shall walk west by south. From this
+point we shall also observe a difference in the character of the
+street, which will become steadily more bourgeois. At this corner,
+where the traffic is always so congested, owing largely to the
+omnibuses with the three white horses abreast that cross to and from
+the Rue Richelieu, all the best cafes are behind us.
+
+If that L32,000,000 reconstruction scheme of which I have already
+spoken comes to pass, this point will be unrecognisable, for among the
+items in that programme is the uniting of the Boulevard Haussmann,
+which now comes to an abrupt end at the Rue Taitbout, with the
+Boulevard de Montmartre, which, as a glance at the map will show, is
+in a line with it. But my hope is that the improvement will be long
+deferred.
+
+It is in the Rue Richelieu that the Bibliotheque Nationale stands,
+where the foreign resident in Paris may read every day, precisely as
+at the British Museum, provided always that he is certified by his
+Consul to be worthy of a ticket, and the visitor may on certain days
+examine priceless books and autographs, prints and maps and cameos and
+wonderful antiquities. Here once lived Cardinal Mazarin, and it is in
+the galerie that bears his name that the rarest bindings are to be
+seen--some from Grolier's own shelves. Among the MSS. is that of
+Pascal's _Pensees_. The library, which is now perhaps the finest in
+existence, has been built up steadily by the kings of France, even
+from Charlemagne, but Louis XII. was the first of them who may really
+be called a bibliophile, to be worthily followed by Francois I. It was
+not until 1724, in the reign of Louis XV., that the royal collection
+was removed to this building. The Revolution greatly added to its
+wealth by transferring hither the libraries of the destroyed convents
+and monasteries. The treasures in the Cabinet de Medailles I cannot
+describe; all I can say is that they ought not to be missed. They may
+be called an extension of the Galerie d'Apollon in the Louvre.
+
+Before leaving the Bibliotheque I should add that in certain of its
+rooms, with an entrance in the Rue Vivienne, exhibitions are
+periodically held, and it is worth while to ascertain if one is in
+progress. In the spring of 1908 I saw there a most satisfying display
+of Rembrandt's etchings.
+
+It was in one of the old book-shops in the neighbourhood of the
+Bibliotheque that I received my first impression of the Paris Bourse.
+I was turning over little pocket editions of Voltaire's _Pucelle_ and
+naughty Crebillons and such ancient boudoir fare, when I began to be
+conscious of a sound as of a thousand boys' schools in deadly rivalry.
+On hurrying out to learn the cause I found Paris in its usual
+condition of self-containment and intent progress; no one showed any
+sign of inquisitiveness or excitement; but on the steps of the Bourse
+I observed a shouting, gesticulating mob of men who must, I thought,
+be planning a new Reign of Terror. But no; they were merely financiers
+engaged in the ordinary work of life. The Bourse is free, and I
+climbed the steps, pushed through the money-makers, and entered. Never
+again. I have seen men engaged in the unlovely task of acquiring lucre
+by more or less improper means in various countries, but I never saw
+anything so horrible as the rapacity expressed upon the faces of this
+heated Bourse populace.
+
+Capel Court is not indifferent to the advantages of a successful coup,
+but Capel Court differs from the Bourse not only in a comparative
+retention of its head, but also in a certain superficial appearance of
+careless aristocracy. Capel Court dresses well and keeps time for a
+practical joke now and then. The Bourse is shabby and in the grip of
+avarice. Wall Street and the Chicago pit, I am told, are worse: I have
+not seen them; but no race-course scramble for odds could exceed the
+horrors of that day in the Bourse. The home, by the way, of this daily
+vociferous service of Mammon, was built on the site of the old convent
+of the Filles de St. Thomas. During the Revolution the connection
+between the Bourse and Heaven was even closer, for the church of the
+Petits Peres was then set apart for Exchange purposes.
+
+Returning to the point where we left the Boulevard--at the Rue
+Richelieu--I am moved to ask what would happen in London if Messrs.
+Baker in the Tottenham Court Road or Messrs. Gardiner in Knightsbridge
+were suddenly to break out into caricature and embellish their windows
+with scarifying cartoons of Kings, Kaisers, Presidents and Premiers?
+The question may sound odd, but it is simple enough if you visit the
+High Life tailor at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, or, farther east,
+a similar establishment at the corner of the Rue de Rougemont, for it
+then becomes obvious that it is quite part of the duties of the large
+Parisian clothier to do his part in forming public opinion. These
+cartoons are always bold and clever, although often too municipal for
+the foreigner's apprehension.
+
+I have said somewhere that one of my favourite streets in Paris is the
+Rue Montorgeuil. That is largely, as I have explained, because it is
+old and narrow, and the people swarm in it, and the stalls are so
+many, and the houses are high and white and take the sun so bravely,
+and it smells of Paris; and also, of course, because the Compas d'Or
+is here, bringing the middle ages so nigh. Another favourite is the
+Rue du Faubourg Montmartre (which is now the next on the left
+eastward) for its busy happy shops and its moving multitudes. In its
+own narrow way it is almost as crowded as the Grands Boulevards.
+
+A little way up this street, on the right, is a gateway leading into a
+very curious backwater, as noticeably quiet as the highways are noisy
+and restless: the Cite Bergere, the largest of those cites within a
+cite of which Paris has several, to be compared in London only with
+St. Helen's Place in Bishopsgate or Park Row at Knightsbridge. The
+Cite Bergere is practically nothing but hotels--high and narrow, with
+dirty white walls and dirty green shutters--very cheap, and very
+incurious as to the occupations of their guests, whether male or
+female. It has a gate at each end which is closed at night and
+penetrated thereafter only at the goodwill of the concierge, whom it
+is well to placate. The Cite Bergere leads into the Cite Rougemont
+(hence offering an opportunity to an innkeeper between the two to hang
+out the imposing sign of the Hotel des Deux Cites), and from the Cite
+Rougemont you gain that district of Paris where the woollen merchants
+congregate.
+
+Returning to the Grands Boulevards, the next street on the left is the
+Rue Rougemont, and if we take this we come in a few moments to the
+Conservatoire, where so many famous musicians have been taught, and
+where Coquelin and Sarah Bernhardt learned the art of elocution. There
+is a little museum at the Conservatoire in which every variety of
+musical instrument is preserved, together with a few personal relics,
+such as a cast of Paganini's nervous magical hand, with its long
+sharply pointed fingers, and the death-mask of Chopin.
+
+Close to the Conservatoire is the darkest church in Paris--Saint
+Eugene, a favourite spot for funeral services. I chanced once to
+stay in a room overlooking this church, until the smell of mortality
+became too constant. There was a funeral every day: every morning
+the undertakers' men were busy in the preparations for the
+ceremony--draping the facade with heavy curtains of a blackness that
+seemed to darken the circumambient air: every afternoon removing it,
+together with the other trappings of the ritual--the candlesticks and
+furniture. It is not without reason that the French undertaker
+ambushes beneath the imposing style of Pompes Funebres.
+
+It was, by the way, on the walls of Saint Eugene, each side of the
+door, that I first saw any of those curious affiches, made, I suppose,
+necessary, or at any rate prudent, by recent events in France,
+directing notice to--advertising, I almost wrote, and indeed why
+not?--the advantages of religion. Religion (this is what the notice
+came to in essence), religion has its points after all. When President
+Fallieres' daughter was married, it remarked, where was the ceremony
+performed? In a church. (Ha, Ha!) Who, it asked, is called to visit a
+man on his death-bed, no matter how wicked he has been? A priest.
+(Touche!) And so forth. Surely a strange document.
+
+In the same street is an old book-stall whose shelves are fastened to
+the wall, giving the appearance of an open-air library for all--the
+Carnegie idea at its best. There used to be one on the side of the
+Hotel Chatham in the Rue Volney (opposite Henry's excellent American
+Bar) but it has now gone.
+
+We may regain the Boulevards by turning down the long Rue du Faubourg
+Poissoniere, which leads direct, through the Rue Montorgeuil, to the
+Halles and the Pont Neuf--a very good walk. Passing Marguery's great
+restaurant on the left, famous for its filet de sole in a special
+sauce, which every one should eat once if only to see the great
+Marguery on his triumphant progress through the rooms, bending his
+white mane over honoured guests, we come to a strange thing--a
+massive archway in the road, parallel with the pavements, which I
+think needs a little explanation. It will take us far from the Grands
+Boulevards: as far, in fact, as _The Golden Legend_; for the arch is
+the Porte St. Denis, and St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris.
+
+  [Illustration: LE PONT DE MANTES
+    COROT
+    _(Louvre: Moreau Collection)_]
+
+St. Denis was not a Frenchman but an Athenian, who was converted by
+St. Paul in person, after considerable discussion. Indeed, discussion
+was not enough: it needed a miracle to win him wholly. "And as," wrote
+Caxton, "S. Denis disputed yet with S. Paul, there passed by adventure
+by that way a blind man tofore them, and anon Denis said to Paul: If
+thou say to this blind man in the name of thy God: See, and then he
+seeth, I shall anon believe in him, but thou shalt use no words of
+enchantment, for thou mayst haply know some words that have such might
+and virtue. And S. Paul said: I shall write tofore the form of the
+words, which be these: In the name of Jesu Christ, born of the virgin,
+crucified and dead, which arose again and ascended into heaven, and
+from thence shall come for to judge the world: See. And because that
+all suspicion be taken away, Paul said to Denis that he himself should
+pronounce the words. And when Denis had said those words in the same
+manner to the blind man, anon the blind man recovered his sight. And
+then Denis was baptized and Damaris his wife and all his meiny, and
+was a true Christian man and was instructed and taught by S. Paul
+three years, and was ordained bishop of Athens, and there was in
+predication, and converted that city, and great part of the region, to
+christian faith."
+
+Denis was sent to France by Pope Clement, and he converted many
+Parisians and built many churches, until the hostile strategy of the
+Emperor Domitian prevailed and he was tortured, the scene of the
+tragedy being Montmartre. "The day following," says Caxton, "Denis was
+laid upon a gridiron, and stretched all naked upon the coals of fire,
+and there he sang to our Lord saying: Lord thy word is vehemently
+fiery, and thy servant is embraced in the love thereof. And after that
+he was put among cruel beasts, which were excited by great hunger and
+famine by long fasting, and as soon as they came running upon him he
+made the sign of the cross against them, and anon they were made most
+meek and tame. And after that he was cast into a furnace of fire, and
+the fire anon quenched, and he had neither pain ne harm. And after
+that he was put on the cross, and thereon he was long tormented, and
+after, he was taken down and put into a dark prison with his fellows
+and many other Christian men.
+
+"And as he sang there the mass and communed the people, our Lord
+appeared to him with great light, and delivered to him bread, saying:
+Take this, my dear friend, for thy reward is most great with me. After
+this they were presented to the judge and were put again to new
+torments, and then he did do smite off the heads of the three fellows,
+that is to say, Denis, Rusticus, and Eleutherius, in confessing the
+name of the holy Trinity. And this was done by the temple of Mercury,
+and they were beheaded with three axes. And anon the body of S. Denis
+raised himself up, and bare his head between his arms, as the angel
+led him two leagues from the place, which is said the hill of the
+martyrs, unto the place where he now resteth, by his election, and by
+the purveyance of God. And there was heard so great and sweet a melody
+of angels that many of them that heard it believed in our Lord."
+
+Any one making the pilgrimage from, say, Notre Dame to the town of St.
+Denis to-day, can follow the saint's footsteps, for the Rue St. Denis
+at the foot of Montmartre leads out into the Rue du Faubourg St.
+Denis, and that street right over Montmartre, Caxton's hill of the
+martyrs, to St. Denis itself. I do not pretend that the legend as it
+is thus given has not been subjected to severe criticism; but when one
+has no certain knowledge, the best story can be considered the best
+evidence, and I like Caxton better than the others, even though it
+conflicts a little with the legend of St. Genevieve. It is she, I
+might add, who is credited with having inaugurated the pilgrimage to
+St. Denis's bones.
+
+The Rue St. Denis was more than the road to the saint's remains: it
+was the great north road out of Paris to the sea. Just as the old
+Londoners bound for the north left by the City Road and passed through
+the village of Highgate, so did the French traveller leave by the Rue
+St. Denis and pass through the village of St. Denis. Similarly the Rue
+St. Martin was the high-road to Germany. In the old days, when this
+street was a highway, the Porte St. Denis had some meaning, for it
+stood as a gateway between the city and the country; but to-day, when
+the course of traffic is east and west, it stands (like the Porte St.
+Martin) merely as an obstruction in the Grand Boulevard--not quite so
+foolish as our own revised Marble Arch, but nearly so. The Porte St.
+Denis dates from 1673 and celebrates, as the bas-reliefs indicate, the
+triumphs of Louis XIV. in Germany and Holland; the Porte St. Martin
+(to which we are just coming) belongs to the same period and
+commemorates other successes of the same monarch.
+
+The Rue St. Denis is one of the most entertaining of the old streets
+of Paris, although adulterated a little by omnibuses and a sense of
+commerce. But to have boundless time before one, and no cares, and no
+fatigue, and starting at the Porte St. Denis to loiter along it
+prepared to penetrate every inviting court and alluring
+by-street--that is a great luxury. The first theatre in Paris, and
+indeed in France, was in the Hospital of the Trinity in the Rue St.
+Denis. That was early in the fifteenth century, and it was designed
+for the performance of Mystery plays in which the protagonist was, of
+course, Jesus Christ. Paris has now many theatres, with other ideals;
+but whatever their programmes may be, they proceed from that early and
+pious spring.
+
+We come next to the Boulevard de Strasbourg, running north to the Gare
+de l'Est, and the Boulevard de Sebastopol, running south to the Ile de
+la Cite; and then to the second archway, the Porte St. Martin. St.
+Martin (who was Bishop of Tours) lived in Paris for a while, and it
+was here that he performed the miracle of healing a leper by embracing
+him--an act commemorated by Henri I. in the founding of the Priory of
+St. Martin, which stood a little way down the Rue St. Martin on the
+left, on a site on which the Musee des Arts et Metiers now stands. But
+it was at Amiens that the saint's most beautiful act--the gift of his
+cloak to a beggar--was performed, and perhaps I may be allowed to
+quote here, from another book of mine, the translation of a poem by M.
+Haraucourt, the curator of the Cluny museum, celebrating that deed:--
+
+       CHARITY
+
+     Because so bitter was the rain,
+     Saint Martin cut his cloak in twain,
+       And gave the beggar half of it
+     To cover him and ease his pain.
+
+     But being now himself ill clad,
+     The Saint's own case was no less sad.
+       So piteously cold the night;
+     Though glad at heart he was, right glad.
+
+     Thus, singing, on his way he passed,
+     While Satan, grim and overcast,
+       Vowing the Saint should rue his deed,
+     Released the cruel Northern blast.
+
+     Away it sprang with shriek and roar,
+     And buffeted the Saint full sore,
+       Yet never wished he for his cloak;
+     So Satan bade the deluge pour.
+
+     Huge hail-stones joined in the attack,
+     And dealt Saint Martin many a thwack,
+       "My poor old head!" he smiling said,
+     Yet never wished his cape were back.
+
+     "He must, he shall," cried Satan, "know
+     Regret for such an act," and lo,
+       E'en as he spoke the world was dark
+     With fog and frost and whirling snow.
+
+     Saint Martin, struggling toward his goal,
+     Mused thoughtfully, "Poor soul! poor soul!
+       What use to him was half a cloak?
+     I should have given him the whole."
+
+     The cold grew terrible to bear,
+     The birds fell frozen in the air:
+       "Fall thou," said Satan, "on the ice
+     Fall thou asleep, and perish there."
+
+     He fell, and slept, despite the storm,
+     And dreamed he saw the Christ Child's form
+       Wrapped in the half the beggar took,
+     And seeing Him, was warm, so warm.
+
+The Arts et Metiers is a museum devoted to the progress of mechanics
+and the useful crafts: a kind of industrial exhibition, a modern
+utilitarian Cluny. It is a memorial of the world's ingenuity and the
+ingenuity of France in particular, and one cannot have a much better
+reminder that the frivolity of the Grands Boulevards is not all.
+Apropos, however, of the frivolity of the Grands Boulevards, I may say
+that the case that was attracting most interest on the Sunday that I
+was here contained a collection of all the best mechanical toys of the
+past dozen years, with their dates affixed. The only article in the
+vast building which seemed to serve no useful purpose was a mirror
+cracked during the Commune by a bullet, with the bullet still in it.
+In the square opposite the Musee is the statue of Beranger, who for
+many years made the ballads of the French nation.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PORTE ST. DENIS
+    (SOUTH FACADE)]
+
+Returning to the Grands Boulevards once more, we pass first the Porte
+St. Martin theatre, where the great Coquelin played Cyrano, and where
+he was rehearsing _Chantecler_ when he died, and then the Ambigu, home
+of sensational melodrama, and come very shortly to the Place de la
+Republique, with its great central monument. The Republic thus
+celebrated is not merely the Third and present Republic, but all the
+efforts in that direction which the French have made, as the twelve
+reliefs round the base will show, for they begin with the scene in the
+Jeu de Paume in 1789, and end with the National Fete on July 14th,
+1880. Paris would still have statues of the Republique if this were to
+go, for there is one by Dalou, the sculptor of these bas-reliefs, in
+the Place de la Nation, and another by Soitoux at the Institut. Dalou
+(whose work we saw in such profusion at the Little Palace in the
+Champs-Elysees) made a very spirited and characteristic group, with
+the Republic standing high on a chariot being drawn by lions and urged
+forward by an ouvrier and an ouvriere.
+
+There is another and hardly less direct walk eastward to the Place de
+la Republique, which, taken slowly and amusedly, instructs one as
+fully in the manners of the busy small Parisian as the Boulevards in
+those of the flaneur. This route is by the Rue de Provence, the Rue
+Richer, the Rue des Petites-Ecuries and the Rue Chateau
+d'Eau--practically a straight line, and in the old days a highway. You
+see the small Parisian at his busiest--at her busiest--this way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+MONTMARTRE
+
+     Steep Streets--The Musee Moreau--The
+     Sacre-Coeur--Francoise-Marguerite--Paris and Her
+     Beggars--A Ferocious Cripple--The Communard
+     Insurrection--The Maison Dufayel--Heinrich Heine--The
+     Cimetiere de Montmartre--The Boulevard de Clichy--Cabarets
+     Good and Bad--An Aged Statesman is Entertained--Three
+     Bals--Paris and Late Hours--The Night Cafes--The Tireless
+     Dancers--A Coat-tail--The Dead Maitre d'Hotel.
+
+
+One may gain Montmartre by every street that runs off the Grands
+Boulevards on the left, between the Opera and the Place de la
+Republique; but when the night falls and the tide begins to turn that
+way, it is the Rue Blanche and the Rue Pigalle that do most of the
+work. All are very steep. To the wayfarer climbing the hill in no
+hurry, I recommend for its interest the Rue des Martyrs (Balzac once
+lived at No. 47), leading out of the Rue Laffitte; or, starting from
+the Boulevards at a more easterly point, one may gain it by the Rue du
+Faubourg Montmartre, which runs into the Rue des Martyrs at Notre Dame
+de Lorette and is full of activity and variety.
+
+By taking the Rue de la Rochefoucauld one may spend a few minutes in a
+little white building there which was once the home and studio of the
+painter Gustave Moreau and is now left to the nation as a permanent
+memorial of his labours. In industry the man must have approached
+Rubens and Rembrandt, for this, though a large house, is literally
+filled with paintings and drawings and studies, which not only cover
+the walls but cover screens built into the walls, and screens within
+screens, and screens within those. The menuisier and Moreau together
+have contrived to make No. 14 Rue de la Rochefoucauld the most tiring
+house in Paris--at least to me, who do not admire the work of this
+painter, or at any rate do not want to see more of it than is in the
+Luxembourg, where may be seen several of his pictures, including the
+most famous of all, the Salome. Herr Baedeker considers that Moreau's
+works have a charm of their own, but I do not find it. I find a
+striving after the grandiose and startling, with only occasional
+lapses into sincerity and good colour. It is better than Wiertz, no
+doubt; but less entertaining, because less shocking.
+
+Montmartre's life may for our purpose be divided into three distinct
+periods: day, evening, and the small hours. By day one may roam its
+streets of living and of dead and study Paris from its summit; in the
+evening its cabarets are in full swing; and then comes midnight when
+its supper cafes open, not to close or cease their melodies until the
+shops are doing business again.
+
+Montmartre (so called because it was here that St. Denis and his
+associates were put to death) really is a mountain, as any one who
+has climbed to the Sacre-Coeur can tell. The last two hundred yards
+are indeed nearly as steep as the Brecon Beacons; but the climb is
+worth it if only for the view of Paris. (There is, however, a
+funicular railway.) As for the cathedral, that seems to me to be
+better seen and appreciated from the distance: from the train as one
+enters Paris in the late afternoon, with the level sun lighting its
+pure walls; from the heights on the south side of the river; from the
+Boulevard des Italiens up the Rue Laffitte; and from the
+Buttes-Chaumont, as in Mr. Dexter's exquisite drawing. For the
+cathedral itself is not particularly attractive near at hand, and
+within it is cold and dull and still awaiting its glass. It was,
+however, one of the happiest thoughts that has come to Rome in our
+time to set this fascinating bizarre Oriental building here. It gave
+Paris a new note that it will now never lose.
+
+Before leaving, one ought perhaps to have a peep at
+Francoise-Marguerite, for one is not likely to see her equal again.
+Francoise-Marguerite, otherwise known as La Savoyarde de Montmartre,
+is the great bell given to the cathedral by the province of Savoy. She
+weighs nineteen tons, is nine feet tall, and her voice has remarkable
+timbre.
+
+Behind the new cathedral lies the old church of St.
+Pierre-de-Montmartre, on the side of which, it is said, once stood a
+temple of Mars. (Hence, for some lexicographers, Mont-Mars and
+Montmartre; but I prefer to think of St. Denis wandering here without
+his head.) It was in the crypt of this church, I have somewhere read,
+that Ignatius Loyola, with Xavier and Laine, founded the order of
+Jesuits.
+
+I attended early mass at the Sacre-Coeur church on January 1st,
+1908. It was snowing lightly and very cold, and as I came away, at
+about eight, and descended the hill towards Paris, I was struck by the
+spectacle of the lame and blind and miserable men and women who were
+appearing mysteriously from nowhere to descend the hill too, groping
+and hobbling down the slippery steepnesses. Such folk are an uncommon
+sight in Paris, where every one seems to be, if not robust, at any
+rate active and capable, and where, although it eminently belongs to
+the poor as much as to the rich, extreme poverty is rarely seen. In
+London, where the poor convey no possessive impression, but, except in
+their own quarters, suggest that they are here on sufferance, one sees
+much distress. In Paris none, except on this day, the first of the
+year--and on one or two others, such as July 14th--when beggars are
+allowed to ask alms in the streets. For the rest of the year they must
+hide their misery and their want, although I still tremble a little as
+I remember the importunities of the Montmartre cripple of ferocious
+aspect and no legs at all, fixed into a packing-case on wheels, who,
+having demanded alms in vain, hurls himself night after night along
+the pavement after the hard-hearted, urging his torso's chariot by
+powerful strokes of his huge hands on the pavement, as though he
+rowed against Leander, with such menacing fury that I for one have
+literally taken to my heels. He is the only beggar I recollect meeting
+except on the permitted days, and then Paris swarms with them.
+
+Standing on the dome of the cathedral one has the city at one's feet,
+not as wonderfully as on the Eiffel Tower, but nearly so. From the
+Buttes-Chaumont we see Montmartre: here we see the Buttes-Chaumont,
+which, before it was a park, shared with Montmartre the gypsum
+quarries from which plaster of Paris is made. Beyond the
+Buttes-Chaumont is Pere Lachaise, a hill strangely mottled by its
+grave-stones, while immediately below us is the Cimetiere du Nord,
+which we are about to visit for the sake of certain very interesting
+tombs.
+
+One realises quickly the strategical value of this mountain. Paris has
+indeed been bombarded from it twice--by Henri IV., and again, only
+thirty-eight years ago. It was indeed on Montmartre that the Communard
+insurrection began, for it was the cannon on these heights that the
+rebel soldiers at once made for after the assassination of their
+officers. They held them for a while, but were then overpowered and
+forced to take up their quarters in the Buttes-Chaumont and Pere
+Lachaise, which were shelled by the National Guard from Montmartre
+until the brief but terrible mutiny was over.
+
+The great dome, close by us on the left, which might be another
+Pantheon, crowns the Maison Dufayel. Who is Dufayel? you ask. Well,
+who is Wanamaker, who was Whiteley? M. Dufayel is the head of the
+gigantic business in the Boulevard Barbes, a northern continuation of
+the Boulevard de Magenta. His advertisements are on every hoarding. I
+think the Maison Dufayel is well worth a visit, especially as there is
+no need to buy anything: you may instead sip an aperitif, listen to
+the band or watch the cinematoscope. One also need have none of that
+fear of what would happen were there to be a sudden panic which always
+keeps me nervous if ever I am lured into the Magasins du Louvre or the
+Galeries Lafayette; for at Dufayel's there is space, whereas at those
+vast shopping centres there is a congestion that, in a time of stress
+would lead to perfectly awful results. The Maison Dufayel is not so
+varied a repository as Wanamaker's or Whiteley's: but in its way it is
+hardly less remarkable. Its principal line is furniture, and I never
+saw so many beds in my life. It was M. Dufayel who brought to
+perfection the deposit system of payment, and his agents continually
+range the otherwise pleasant land of France, collecting instalments.
+
+Since I had wandered into this monstrous establishment, which may not
+be as large as Harrod's Stores but feels infinitely vaster, I
+determined to buy something, and decided at last upon a French
+picture-book for an English child. Buying it was a simple operation,
+but I then made the mistake of asking that it might be sent to England
+direct. One should never do that in a bureaucratic country. The lady
+led me for what seemed several miles through various departments
+until we came late in the day to rows and rows of Frenchmen and
+Frenchwomen each in a little glass box. These boxes were numbered and
+ran to hundreds. We stopped at last before, say, 157, where my guide
+left me. The Frenchman in the box denied at once that the book could
+go by post. It was too large. It must go by rail. For myself, I did
+not then care how it went or if it went at all: I was tired out. But
+feeling that such an act as to abandon the parcel and run would be
+misconstrued and resented in a home of such perfect mechanical order,
+I waited until he had written for a quarter of an hour in a fine
+flowing hand with a pen sharper than a serpent's tooth, and then I
+paid the required number of francs and set out on the desperate errand
+of finding the street again. The book was a week on its journey. Go to
+Dufayel's, I say, most certainly, for it is quite amusing; but go when
+you are young and strong.
+
+To me the most interesting thing on Montmartre is the grave of
+Heinrich Heine in the Cimetiere du Nord, a strange irregular city of
+dead Parisians all tidily laid away in their homes in its many
+streets, over which a busy rumbling thoroughfare has been carried on a
+viaduct. I had Heine's _Salon_ with me when I was last in Paris, and I
+sought his grave again one afternoon with an increased sense of
+intimacy. A medallion portrait of the mournful face is cut in the
+marble, and on the grave itself are wistful echoes of the _Buch der
+Lieder_. A little tin receptacle is fixed to the stone, and I looked
+at the cards which in the pretty German way visitors had left upon
+the poet and his wife; for Frau Heine lies too here. All were German
+and all rain-soaked (or was it tears?)
+
+  [Illustration: LA PROVENDE DES POULES
+    TROYON
+    _(Louvre: Thomy-Thierret Collection)_]
+
+Matthew Arnold in his poem called Heine's grave black: the present one
+is white. How do the lines run?
+
+     "_Henri Heine_"----'tis here!
+     That black tombstone, the name
+     Carved there--no more! and the smooth,
+     Swarded alleys, the limes
+     Touch'd with yellow by hot
+     Summer, but under them still,
+     In September's bright afternoon,
+     Shadow, and verdure, and cool.
+     Trim Montmartre! the faint
+     Murmur of Paris outside;
+     Crisp everlasting-flowers,
+     Yellow and black, on the graves.
+
+     Half blind, palsied, in pain,
+     Hither to come, from the streets'
+     Uproar, surely not loath
+     Wast thou, Heine!--to lie
+     Quiet, to ask for closed
+     Shutters, and darken'd room,
+     And cool drinks, and an eased
+     Posture, and opium, no more;
+     Hither to come, and to sleep
+     Under the wings of Renown.
+
+     Ah! not little, when pain
+     Is most quelling, and man
+     Easily quell'd, and the fine
+     Temper of genius so soon
+     Thrills at each smart, is the praise,
+     Not to have yielded to pain
+     No small boast, for a weak
+     Son of mankind, to the earth
+     Pinn'd by the thunder, to rear
+     His bolt-scathed front to the stars;
+     And, undaunted, retort
+     'Gainst thick-crashing, insane,
+     Tyrannous tempests of bale,
+     Arrowy lightnings of soul
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     Ah! as of old, from the pomp
+     Of Italian Milan, the fair
+     Flower of marble of white
+     Southern palaces--steps
+     Border'd by statues, and walks
+     Terraced, and orange-bowers
+     Heavy with fragrance--the blond
+     German Kaiser full oft
+     Long'd himself back to the fields,
+     Rivers, and high-roof'd towns
+     Of his native Germany; so,
+     So, how often! from hot
+     Paris drawing-rooms, and lamps
+     Blazing, and brilliant crowds,
+     Starr'd and jewell'd, of men
+     Famous, of women the queens
+     Of dazzling converse--from fumes
+     Of praise, hot, heady fumes, to the poor brain
+     That mount, that madden--how oft
+     Heine's spirit outworn
+     Long'd itself out of the din,
+     Back to the tranquil, the cool
+     Far German home of his youth
+
+     See! in the May-afternoon,
+     O'er the fresh, short turf of the Hartz,
+     A youth, with the foot of youth,
+     Heine! thou climbest again.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     But something prompts me: Not thus
+     Take leave of Heine! not thus
+     Speak the last word at his grave!
+     Not in pity, and not
+     With half censure--with awe
+     Hail, as it passes from earth
+     Scattering lightnings, that soul!
+
+     The Spirit of the world,
+     Beholding the absurdity of men--
+     Their vaunts, their feats--let a sardonic smile,
+     For one short moment wander o'er his lips.
+     _That smile was Heine!_--for its earthly hour
+     The strange guest sparkled; now 'tis passed away.
+
+     That was Heine! and we,
+     Myriads who live, who have lived,
+     What are we all, but a mood,
+     A single mood, of the life
+     Of the Spirit in whom we exist,
+     Who alone is all things in one?
+     Spirit, who fillest us all!
+     Spirit, who utterest in each
+     New-coming son of mankind
+     Such of thy thoughts as thou wilt!
+     O thou, one of whose moods,
+     Bitter and strange, was the life
+     Of Heine--his strange, alas,
+     His bitter life!--may a life
+     Other and milder be mine!
+     May'st thou a mood more serene,
+     Happier, have utter'd in mine!
+     May'st thou the rapture of peace
+     Deep have embreathed at its core;
+     Made it a ray of thy thought,
+     Made it a beat of thy joy!
+
+Heine has many illustrious companions. If you would stand by the grave
+of Berlioz and Ambroise Thomas, of Offenbach, who set all Europe
+humming, of Delibes the composer of Genee's "Coppelia," of the
+brothers Goncourt, of Renan, who wrote the _Life of Christ_, or of
+Henri Murger, who discovered Bohemia, of De Neuville, painter of
+battles, of Halevy and Meilhac the playwrights, or of Theophile
+Gautier the poet, you must seek the Cimetiere du Nord.
+
+Montmartre in the evening centres in the Boulevard de Clichy--a
+high-spirited thoroughfare. Many foreigners visit it only then, and
+the Boulevard spreads its wares accordingly, and very tawdry some of
+them are. Here, for example, is a garish facade labelled "Ciel," in
+which a number of grubby blackguards dressed as saints and angels
+first bring refreshments at a franc a glass, and then offer the
+visitor a "preche humoristique" followed by variations of Pepper's
+ghost in what are called "scenes paradisiaques," the whole performance
+being cold, tawdry and very stupid. Next door is "Enfer," where
+similar delights are offered, save that here the suggestion is not of
+heaven but hell. Instead therefore of grubby blackguards as saints we
+have grubby blackguards as devils. On the opposite side of the road is
+the Cabaret du Neant, where you are received with a mass for the dead
+sung by the staff, and sit at tables made of coffins.
+
+It is hardly necessary to say that very few Parisians enter these
+places. The singing cabarets, however, are different: they are
+genuine, and one needs to be not only a Parisian but a very
+well-informed Parisian to appreciate them, for the songs are
+palpitatingly topical and political. The Quatz'-Arts, the Lune-Rousse
+and the Chat-Noir (once so famous, but now lacking in the genius
+either of Salis, its founder, or of Caran d'Ache, Steinlen or
+Willette, who helped to make it renowned) are all in the Boulevard de
+Clichy. So also is Aristide Bruant's cabaret, where an organised shout
+of welcome awaits every visitor, and Aristide--in costume a cross
+between a poet and a cowboy--sings his realistic ballads of Parisian
+street life. Here also is the Moulin-Rouge, which in the old days of
+the elephant was in its spurious way amusing, but is now rebuilt and
+redecorated out of knowledge, and for all the words you hear might be
+on Broadway.
+
+Here also, at the extreme western end of the Boulevard, is the
+Hippodrome, now a hippodrome only in name and given up to the popular
+cinematoscope. I regret the loss of the real Paris Hippodrome. Paris
+still has her permanent circuses, but the Hippodrome is gone. It was
+there that, one night, in 1889, I chanced to sit very near the royal
+box, into which, with much bowing and scraping of managers, a
+white-haired old gentleman with the features of a lion and an eagle
+harmoniously blended was ushered. He was only seventy-nine, this old
+gentleman, and he was in the thick of such duties as fall to the
+Leader of the Opposition and promoter of Home Rule for Ireland; but he
+followed every step of the performance like a schoolboy, and now and
+then he sent for an official to have something explained to him, such
+as, on one occasion, the workings of the artificial snow-storm which
+overwhelmed Skobeleff's army. That ill-fated Russian general was the
+hero of the spectacle, a remarkable one in its way; but to me the
+restless animation and whole-hearted enjoyment of Mr. Gladstone was
+the finer entertainment.
+
+Montmartre has also three dancing halls, two of which are genuine and
+one a show-place. The genuine halls are the Moulin-de-la-Galette, high
+on the hill on the steepest part of it above the Moulin-Rouge, and the
+Elysee in the Boulevard de Rochechouart, which are open only two or
+three times a week and which are thronged by the shop-assistants and
+young people of the neighbourhood. The spurious hall is the Bal
+Tabarin, which is open every evening and is a spectacle. It is,
+however, by no means unamusing, and I have spent many pleasant idle
+hours there. Willette's famous fresco of the apotheosis of the
+Parisian leg decorates a wall-space over the bar with peculiar
+fitness. At all the bals the men who dance retain their hats and often
+their overcoats, and for the most part leave their partners with
+amazing abruptness at the last step. Some of the measures are
+conspicuous for a lack of restraint that would decimate an English
+ballroom; but one must not take such displays "at the foot of the
+letter": they do not mean among these Latin romps and frolics what
+they would mean with us, whose emotions are less facile and sense of
+fun less physical.
+
+And so we come to midnight, when Montmartre enters its third, and, to
+a Londoner exasperated by the grandmotherly legislation of his own
+city, its most entertaining phase. The idea that Paris is a late city
+is an illusion. Paris is not a late city: it is a city with a few late
+streets. Paris as a whole goes to bed as early as London, if not
+earlier, as a walk in the residential quarters will prove. Montmartre
+is late, and the Boulevards des Capucines and des Italiens are late,
+although less so; and that is about all. When it is remembered that
+Paris rises and opens its shops some hours earlier than London, and
+that the Parisians value their health, it will be recognised that
+Paris could not be a late city. One must remember also that the number
+of all-night cafes is very small, so small that by frequenting them
+with any diligence one may soon come to know by sight most of the late
+fringe of this city, both amateurs and professionals. One is indeed
+quickly struck by their numerical weakness.
+
+There is a fashion in night cafes as in hats; change is made as
+suddenly and as inexplicably. One month every one is crowding into,
+let us say, the Chat Vivant, and the next the Chat Vivant kindles its
+lamps and tweaks its mandolins in vain: all the world passes its doors
+on the way to the Nid de Nuit. What is the reason? No one knows
+exactly; but we must probably once again seek the woman. A new dancer
+(or shall I say attachee?) has appeared, or an old dancer or attachee
+transferred her allegiance. And so for a while the Nid has not a free
+table after one o'clock, and on a special night--such as Mi-Careme, or
+Reveillon, or New Year's Eve--it is the head-waiter and the
+door-keeper of the Nid into whose hands are pressed the gold coins
+and bank notes to influence them to admit the bloods and their parties
+and find them a table. A year ago the douceur (often fruitless) would
+have gone to the officials of the Chat Vivant.
+
+They remain, when all has been said against them, simple and
+well-mannered places, these half-dozen famous cafes on which the sun
+always rises. To think so one must perhaps graduate on the Boulevards,
+but once they are accepted they can become an agreeable habit.
+Sleepiness is as unknown there as the writings of Thomas a Kempis. Not
+only the dancers de la maison but the visitors too are tireless. There
+may be ways of getting ennui into a Parisian girl, but certainly it is
+not by dancing. Nor does the band tire either, one excellent rule at
+all of them being that there should be no pause whatever between the
+tunes, from the hour of opening until day.
+
+  [Illustration: THE WINDMILL
+    R. P. BONINGTON
+    (_Louvre_)]
+
+There lies before me as I write an amusing memorial of the innocent
+high spirits that can prevail on such a special all-night sitting as
+Reveillon: one of the tails of a dress coat, lined with white satin on
+which a skilful hand has traced with a fountain pen (my own) two very
+intimate scenes of French life. These drawings were made between five
+and six in the morning in the intervals of the dance, the artist,
+lacking paper, having without a word taken a table knife and shorn off
+his coat-tails for the purpose. His coat, I may say, was already being
+worn inside out, with one of the leather buckles of his braces as a
+button-hole. A tall burly man, with a long red Boulevard beard, he had
+thrown out signs of friendliness to me at once, and we became as
+brothers. He drew my portrait on the table-cloth; I affected to draw
+his. He showed me where I was wrong and drew it right. He then left
+me, in order to walk for a while on an imaginary tight-rope across the
+floor, and having safely made the journey and turned again, with
+infinite skill in his recoveries from falling and the most dexterous
+managing of a balancing-pole that did not exist, he leaped lightly to
+earth again, kissed his hand to the company, and again sat by me and
+resumed his work; finally, after other diversions, completing the chef
+d'oeuvre that is now lying on my desk and lending abandon to what is
+otherwise a stronghold of British decorum. We parted at seven. I have
+never seen him since, but I find his name often in the French comic
+papers illustrating yet other phases of their favourite pleasantry for
+the entertainment of this simple and tireless people.
+
+Another incident I recall that is equally characteristic of
+Montmartre. "Ca ne fait rien," said a head-waiter when we had
+expressed regret on hearing of the death of the maitre d'hotel, for
+whom (an old acquaintance) we had been asking. "Ca ne fait rien: it is
+necessary to order supper just the same." True. True indeed
+everywhere, but particularly true on Montmartre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE ELYSEE TO THE HOTEL DE VILLE
+
+     The Most Interesting Streets--Pet Aversions--The Rue de la
+     Paix--The Vendome Column--A Populous Church--The Whiff of
+     Grapeshot--Alfred de Musset--The Moliere Quarter--A Green
+     and White Oasis--Camille Desmoulins at the Cafe de
+     Foy--Charles Lamb in Paris--The Cloitre de St. Honore--The
+     Massacre of St. Bartholomew--St. Germain of Auxerre--A
+     Satisfied Corpse--Catherine de Medicis' Observatory--St.
+     Eustache--A Wonderful Organ-The Halles--French Economy and
+     English Want of It--The Goat-herd--The Assassination of
+     Henri IV.--The Tour St. Jacques-Pascal, Theologian and
+     Inventor of Omnibuses--A Sinister Spot--The Paris
+     Town-hall--A Riot of Frescoes--Etienne Marcel--The Hotel de
+     Ville and Politesse--An Ancient Palace--Old Streets--Madame
+     de Beauvais' Mansion--A Quiet Courtyard--The Church of St.
+     Paul and St. Louis--Rabelais' Grave.
+
+
+The Elysee, the official home of the French president--Paris's White
+House and Buckingham Palace--is situated in the Rue du Faubourg
+Saint-Honore, which is one of the most entertaining streets in the
+whole city in which to loiter; that is, if you like, as I do, the
+windows of curiosity dealers and jewellers and print shops. Not that
+bargains are to be obtained here: far from it: it is not like the Rue
+des Saints Peres or the Rue Mazarine across the river; but merely as a
+series of windows it is fascinating. I like it as much as I dislike
+the Rue Lafayette, which has always been my aversion, not only because
+it is interminable and commercial and noisy, but because it leads back
+to England and work; yet since, however, when one arrives in Paris it
+leads from England and work, I must be a little lenient, and there is
+also a cafe in it where the diamond merchants compare gems quite
+openly.
+
+Remembering these extenuating circumstances I unhesitatingly award the
+palm for undesirability in a Paris street to the Rue du
+Quatre-Septembre and the Rue Reaumur, which are sheer Shaftesbury
+Avenue, and, as in Shaftesbury Avenue, cause one to regret the older
+streets and houses whose place they have usurped. The Rue de Rivoli I
+dislike too: that strange mixture of very good hotels (the Meurice,
+for instance, is here) and rubbishy shops full of tawdry jewellery to
+catch the excursionist. How it happened that such a site should have
+been allowed to fall into such hands is a mystery. An additional
+objection to the Rue de Rivoli is that the one English acquaintance
+whom one least wishes to meet is always there.
+
+The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore becomes the Rue Saint-Honore at the
+Rue Royale. The Rue Saint-Honore is also a good street for shop
+windows, but not the equal of its more aristocratic half; just as that
+is surpassed here by the Rue de la Paix, to which we now come on the
+left, and which contains more things that I can do without, made to
+perfection, than any street I ever saw. At its foot is the Place
+Vendome, with the beautiful column in the midst on which Napoleon's
+campaign of 1805 is illustrated in a bronze spiral that constitutes at
+once, I suppose, the most durable and the longest picture in the
+world. The bronze came very properly from the melted Russian and
+Austrian cannons. Napoleon stands at the top, imperially splendid; but
+as we saw in the chapter on the "Ile de la Cite," it was not always
+so: for his first statue was removed by Louis XVIII. to be used for
+the new Henri IV. In its stead a fleur-de-lys surmounted the column.
+Then came Louis-Philippe, who erected a new statue of the Emperor,
+not, however, imperially clad; and then Napoleon III., who substituted
+the present figure. But in 1870 the Communards succeeded in bringing
+the column down, and it has only been vertical again since 1875. Thus
+it is to be a Paris monument!
+
+Returning to the Rue Saint-Honore, in which, by the way, are several
+old and interesting houses, such as No. 271, the Cabaret du
+Saint-Esprit, a great resort in the Reign of Terror of spectators
+wishing to see the tumbrils pass, and No. 398, where Robespierre
+lodged, we come to St. Roch's church, on the left, interesting both in
+itself and in history. It has been called the noisiest church in
+Paris, and certainly it is difficult to find a time when feet are
+silent there. The attraction is St. Roch's wealth of shrines, of a
+rather theatrical character, such as the wise poor love: an
+entombment, a calvary and a nativity, all very effective if not
+beautiful. Beauty does not matter, for on Good Friday the entombment
+holds thousands silent before it. The church, which is in the baroque
+style that it is so easy to dislike, is too florid throughout. Among
+the many monuments are memorials of Corneille and Diderot, both of
+whom are buried here. The music of St. Roch is, I am told, second only
+to that of the Madeleine.
+
+So much for St. Roch within. Historically it chances to be of immense
+importance, for it was here, and in the streets around and about the
+church, that the whiff of grapeshot blew which dispersed the French
+Revolution into the air. That was on October 5th, 1795, and it was not
+only the death of the Revolution but it was the birth of the
+conquering Buonaparte. Carlyle is superb: "Some call for Barras to be
+made Commandant; he conquered in Thermidor. Some, what is more to the
+purpose, bethink them of the Citizen Buonaparte, unemployed
+Artillery-Officer, who took Toulon. A man of head, a man of action:
+Barras is named Commandant's-Cloak; this young Artillery-Officer is
+named Commandant. He was in the Gallery at the moment, and heard it;
+he withdrew, some half-hour, to consider with himself: after a
+half-hour of grim compressed considering, to be or not to be, he
+answers _Yea_.
+
+"And now, a man of head being at the centre of it, the whole matter
+gets vital. Swift, to Camp of Sablons; to secure the Artillery, there
+are not twenty men guarding it! A swift Adjutant, Murat is the name of
+him, gallops; gets thither some minutes within time, for Lepelletier
+was also on march that way: the Cannon are ours. And now beset this
+post, and beset that; rapid and firm: at Wicket of the Louvre, in
+Cul-de-sac Dauphin, in Rue Saint-Honore, from Pont-Neuf all along the
+north Quays, southward to Pont _ci-devant_ Royal,--rank round the
+Sanctuary of the Tuileries, a ring of steel discipline; let every
+gunner have his match burning, and all men stand to their arms!
+
+"Lepelletier has seized the Church of Saint-Roch; has seized the
+Pont-Neuf, our piquet there retreating without fire. Stray shots fall
+from Lepelletier; rattle down on the very Tuileries Staircase. On the
+other hand, women advance dishevelled, shrieking, Peace; Lepelletier
+behind them waving his hat in sign that we shall fraternise. Steady!
+The Artillery-Officer is steady as bronze; can, if need were, be quick
+as lightning. He sends eight-hundred muskets with ball-cartridges to
+the Convention itself; honourable Members shall act with these in case
+of extremity: whereat they look grave enough. Four of the afternoon is
+struck. Lepelletier, making nothing by messengers, by fraternity or
+hat-waving, bursts out, along the Southern Quai Voltaire, along
+streets and passages, treble-quick, in huge veritable onslaught!
+Whereupon, thou bronze Artillery-Officer--? 'Fire!' say the bronze
+lips. And roar and thunder, roar and again roar, continual,
+volcano-like, goes his great gun, in the Cul-de-sac Dauphin against
+the Church of Saint-Roch; go his great guns on the Pont-Royal; go all
+his great guns;--blow to air some two-hundred men, mainly about the
+Church of Saint-Roch! Lepelletier cannot stand such horse-play; no
+Sectioner can stand it; the Forty-thousand yield on all sides, scour
+towards covert. 'Some hundred or so of them gathered about the Theatre
+de la Republique; but,' says he, 'a few shells dislodged them. It was
+all finished at six.'
+
+  [Illustration: THE SACRE-COEUR DE MONTMARTRE, FROM THE
+    BUTTES-CHAUMONT]
+
+"The Ship is _over_ the bar, then; free she bounds shoreward,--amid
+shouting and vivats! Citoyen Buonaparte is 'named General of the
+Interior, by acclamation'; quelled Sections have to disarm in such
+humour as they may; sacred right of Insurrection is gone forever! The
+Sieyes Constitution can disembark itself, and begin marching. The
+miraculous Convention Ship has got to land;--and is there, shall we
+figuratively say, changed, as Epic Ships are wont, into a kind of _Sea
+Nymph_, never to sail more; to roam the waste Azure, a Miracle in
+History!
+
+"'It is false,' says Napoleon, 'that we fired first with blank charge;
+it had been a waste of life to do that.' Most false: the firing was
+with sharp and sharpest shot: to all men it was plain that here was no
+sport; the rabbets and plinths of Saint-Roch Church show splintered by
+it to this hour.--Singular: in old Broglie's time, six years ago, this
+Whiff of Grapeshot was promised; but it could not be given then; could
+not have profited then. Now, however, the time is come for it, and the
+man; and behold, you have it; and the thing we specifically call
+_French Revolution_ is blown into space by it, and become a thing that
+was!--"
+
+Crossing the Place du Theatre-Francais we come to that historic home
+of the best French drama, where Moliere is still played frequently,
+and one has some respite from the theme of facile promiscuity which
+dominates most of the other theatres of Paris. A new statue of Alfred
+de Musset has lately been set up under the Comedie Francaise. I copy
+from a writer very unlike him a passage of criticism to remember as
+one stands by this monument: "Give a look, if you can, at a Memoir of
+Alfred de Musset written by his Brother. Making allowance for French
+morals, and Absinthe (which latter is not mentioned in the Book),
+Alfred appears to me a fine Fellow, very un-French in some respects.
+He did not at all relish the new Romantic School, beginning with V.
+Hugo, and now alive in ---- and Co.--(what I call the Gargoyle School
+of Art, whether in Poetry, Painting, or Music)--he detested the modern
+'feuilleton' Novel, and read Clarissa!... Many years before A. de M.
+died he had a bad, long, illness, and was attended by a Sister of
+Charity. When she left she gave him a Pen with 'Pensez a vos
+promesses' worked about in coloured silks: as also a little worsted
+'Amphore' she had knitted at his bedside. When he came to die, some
+seventeen years after, he had these two little things put with him in
+his Coffin." That, by Edward FitzGerald, no natural friend to the de
+Mussets of the world, is very pretty.
+
+The Rue de Richelieu runs up beside the Comedie Francaise. We have
+already been in this street to see the Bibliotheque Nationale,
+entering it from the Boulevard, but let us now walk up it, first to
+see the Moliere monument, so appropriate just here, and also to glance
+at No. 50, a house still unchanged, where once lived an insignificant
+couple named Poisson, whose daughter Jeanne Antoinette Poisson lived
+to become famous as Madame La Pompadour. In souvenirs of Moliere Paris
+is still rich. We are coming soon to No. 92 Rue Saint-Honore, where he
+was born; we are coming to the church of St. Eustache, where he was
+christened on January 15th, 1622, and where his second son was
+christened too. We are coming also to the church of St. Germain
+l'Auxerrois, where he was married and where his first son was
+baptised. In St. Roch he once stood as a godfather; and close to us
+now, at the corner of the Rue Saint-Honore and the Rue Valois, was one
+of his theatres. And he died close to his monument, at No. 40 Rue de
+Richelieu. This then is the Moliere quarter.
+
+We now enter the Palais Royal, that strange white and green oasis into
+which it is so simple never to stray. When I first knew Paris the
+Palais Royal was filled with cheap restaurants and shops to allure the
+excursionist and the connoisseur of those books which an inspired
+catalogue once described as very curious and disgusting. It is now
+practically deserted; the restaurants have gone and few shops remain;
+but in the summer the band plays to happy crowds, and children frolic
+here all day. I have, however, never succeeded in shaking off a
+feeling of depression.
+
+The original palace was built by Richelieu and was then the Palais
+Cardinal. After his death it became the Palais Royal and was enlarged,
+and was the scene of notorious orgies. Camille Desmoulins made it more
+serious, for it was here that he enflamed the people by his words on
+July 12th, 1789, and started them on their destroying career. That
+was in the Cafe de Foy. Carlyle thus describes the scene: "But see
+Camille Desmoulins, from the Cafe de Foy, rushing out, sibylline in
+face; his hair streaming, in each hand a pistol! He springs to a
+table: the Police satellites are eyeing him; alive they shall not
+take him, not they alive him alive. This time he speaks without
+stammering:--Friends! shall we die like hunted hares? Like sheep
+hounded into their pinfold; bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but
+only a whetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of Frenchman
+and Man; when Oppressors are to try conclusions with Oppressed; and
+the word is, swift Death, or Deliverance forever. Let such hour be
+_well_-come! Us, meseems, one cry only befits: To Arms! Let universal
+Paris, universal France, as with the throat of the whirlwind, sound
+only: To arms--To arms! yell responsive the innumerable voices; like
+one great voice, as of a Demon yelling from the air: for all faces
+wax fire-eyed, all hearts burn up into madness. In such, or fitter
+words, does Camille evoke the Elemental Powers, in this great
+moment.--Friends, continues Camille, some rallying sign! Cockades;
+green ones;--the colour of Hope!--As with the flight of locusts, these
+green tree-leaves; green ribands from the neighbouring shops; all
+green things are snatched, and made cockades of. Camille descends from
+his table, 'stifled with embraces, wetted with tears'; has a bit of
+green riband handed him; sticks it in his hat. And now to Curtius'
+Image-shop there; to the Boulevards; to the four winds; and rest not
+till France be on fire!"
+
+Desmoulins in bronze now stands in the garden, near this spot. It is
+an interesting statue by Boverie, who showed great courage in his use
+of a common chair, dignified here into a worthy adjunct of liberation.
+
+Under Napoleon the Tribunate sat in the Palais Royal, and after
+Napoleon the Orleans family made it their home. The Communards, always
+thorough, burned a good deal of it in 1871, and it is now a desert and
+the seat of the Conseil d'Etat. Let us leave it by the gateway leading
+to the Rue de Valois and be happier again.
+
+The Rue de Valois is an interesting and picturesque street, but its
+greatest attraction to me is its association with Charles Lamb. His
+hotel--the Europe, just opposite the gateway--has recently been
+rebuilt and is now called the Grand Hotel du Palais Royal et de
+l'Europe, and the polished staircase on which his infinitesimal legs
+slipped about so comically on his late and not too steady returnings
+(and how could he be steady when Providence ordained that the waiter
+of whom in his best stammering French he ordered an egg, on his first
+visit to a restaurant, should have so misunderstood the order as to
+bring in its place a glass of eau de vie--an error, we are told,
+which gave Lamb much pleasure?) the polished staircase has now gone;
+but the hotel stands exactly where it did, and every thing else is the
+same--the Boeuf a la Mode is still close by and still one of the
+best restaurants in Paris, and the Place de Valois is untouched, with
+its most attractive archway leading to the Rue des Bons-Enfants and
+giving on to the vista of the Rue Montesquieu, with its hundred signs
+hanging out exactly as in 1823.
+
+We now return to the Rue Saint-Honore. The three old houses, 180, 182
+and 184, opposite the Magasins du Louvre, belonged before the
+Revolution to the Canons of Saint-Honore. The courtyard here--the
+Cloitre du Saint-Honore--is one of the most characteristic examples of
+dirty Paris that remain, but very picturesque too. To peep in here is
+almost certainly to be rewarded by some Hogarthian touch, and to walk
+up the Rue des Bons-Enfants yields similar experiences and some very
+pleasant glimpses of old Paris.
+
+Still going east we turn down past the Oratoire on the right, with
+Coligny's monument on its south side, into the Rue de Rivoli, and
+across the Rue du Louvre obliquely to the old church we see there,
+opposite the east end of the Louvre and Napoleon's iron gates. This
+church is that of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, not to be confounded with
+the St. Germain of St. Germain des Pres across the river. St. Germain
+l'Auxerrois is historically one of the most interesting of the Paris
+churches, for it was St. Germain's bell that gave the signal for
+the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572. Charles IX. is said to have
+fired at the Huguenots (doubtless with Catherine de Medicis at his
+shoulder, anxious for the success of his aim) from one of the windows
+in the Louvre overlooking this space.
+
+  [Illustration: L'AMATEUR D'ESTAMPES
+    DAUMIER
+    (_Palais des Beaux Arts_)]
+
+St. Germain of Auxerre began as a layman--the ruler of Burgundy.
+Divine revelation, however, indicated that the Church was his true
+calling, and he therefore succeeded Saint Amadour as Bishop, "gave,"
+in Caxton's words, "all his riches to poor people, and changed his
+wife into his sister". He took to the new life very thoroughly. He
+fasted every day till evening and then ate coarse bread and drank
+water and used no pottage and no salt. "In winter ne summer he had but
+one clothing, and that was the hair next his body, a coat and a gown,
+and if it happed so that he gave not his vesture to some poor body, he
+would wear it till it were broken and torn. His bed was environed with
+ashes, hair, and sackcloth, and his head lay no higher than his
+shoulders, but all day wept, and bare about his neck divers relics of
+saints. He ware none other clothing, and he went oft barefoot and
+seldom ware any girdle. The life that he led was above man's power.
+His life was so straight and hard that it was marvel and pity to see
+his flesh, and was like a thing not credible, and he did so many
+miracles that, if his merits had not gone before, they should have
+been trowed phantasms."
+
+St. Germain's miracles were more interesting than those of, say, his
+convert Sainte Genevieve. He conjured devils; he forbade fire to burn
+him; having fed his companions on the only calf of a friendly
+cow-herd, he put the bones and the skins together and life returned to
+it; he also raised one of his own disciples from the dead and
+conversed with him through the walls of his tomb, but on the disciple
+saying that in his late condition "he was well and all things were to
+him soft and sweet," he permitted him to remain dead. He also found
+his miraculous gifts very useful in the war; but his principal
+interest to us is that he is supposed to have visited England and
+organised the Establishment here. St. Germain's church has a little
+old glass that is charming and much bad new. The south transept
+window, although sheer kaleidoscope, is gay and attractive.
+
+At the back of the church runs the narrow and medieval Rue de
+l'Arbre-Sec, extending to the Rue Saint-Honore. At No. 4 is, or was,
+the Hotel des Mousquetaires, where, when it was the Belle Etoile,
+d'Artagnan drank and swaggered. Let us take this street and come to
+St. Eustache by way of another and less terrible souvenir of Catherine
+de Medicis. The Rue de l'Arbre-Sec leads to the Rue Sauval and to the
+circular Rue de Viarmes surrounding the Bourse de Commerce. Here we
+see a remarkable Doric column, all that remains of the palace which
+Catherine built in order to avoid the fate predicted for her by a
+soothsayer--that she would perish in the ruins of a house near St.
+Germain's. The Tuileries, which she was then building, being far too
+near St. Germain's to be comfortable after such a remark, she erected
+the Hotel de la Reine, the tower being designed for astrological study
+in the company of her Italian familiar, Ruggieri. All else has gone:
+the tower and the stars remain.
+
+A few steps down the Rue Oblin and we are at St. Eustache, which has
+to my eyes the most fascinating roof of any church in Paris and a very
+attractive nave. The interior, however, is marred by the presence of
+what might be called a church within a church, destroying all vistas,
+and it is only with great difficulty that one can see the exquisite
+rose window over the organ. It is a church much used by the poor--who
+even call it Notre Dame des Halles--but its music on festival days
+brings the rich too. Like most other Paris churches of any importance,
+St. Eustache had its secular period. The Feast of Reason was held here
+in 1793; in 1795 it was the Temple of Agriculture. In 1791 Mirabeau,
+the first of the illustrious, as we saw, to be buried in the Pantheon,
+was carried here in his coffin for a funeral service, at which guns
+were fired that brought down some of the plaster. Voiture the poet was
+buried here. The church has always been famous for the splendour of
+its festivals and for its music, its present organ, once much injured
+by Communard bombs, being one of the finest in the world. No reader of
+this book who cares for solemn music should fail to ascertain the St.
+Eustache festivals. On St. Cecilia's day entrance is very difficult,
+but an effort should be made.
+
+Eustache, or Eustace, the Saint, had no direct association with Paris,
+as had our friends St Germain and St. Genevieve and St. Denis and St.
+Martin and St. Merry; but he had an indirect one, having been a Roman
+soldier under the Emperor Trajan, whose column was the model for the
+Vendome column. In the Sacristy, however, are preserved some of the
+bones not only of himself but of his wife and family, brought hither
+from St. Denis. One of his teeth is here too, and one special bone,
+the gift of Pope Alexander VII. to an influential Catholic.
+
+Why our London markets should be so dull and unattractive and the
+Halles so entertaining is a problem which would perhaps require an
+ethnological essay of many pages to elucidate. But so it is.
+Smithfield, Billingsgate, Leadenhall, Covent Garden--one has little
+temptation or encouragement to loiter in any of them; but the Halles
+spread welcoming arms. I have spent hours there, and would spend more.
+In the very early morning it is not too agreeable a neighbourhood for
+the idle spectator, nor is he desired, although if he is prepared to
+endure a little rough usage with tongue and elbow he will be vastly
+amused by what he sees; but later, when all the world is up, the
+Halles entreat his company. Their phases are three: the first is the
+arrival of the market carts with their merchandise, very much as in
+our own Covent Garden, but multiplied many times and infinitely more
+vocal and shattering to the nerves. (I once occupied a bedroom within
+range of this pandemonium.) The second phase, a few hours later, sees
+the descent upon the market of the large caterers--buyers for the
+restaurants, great and small, the hotels and pensions. That is between
+half-past five and half-past seven. And then come the small buyers,
+the neat servants, the stout housewives, all with their baskets or
+string bags. This is our time; we may now loiter at our ease secure
+from the swift and scorching sarcasms of the crowded dawn.
+
+The Halles furnish another proof of the quiet efficiency of
+Frenchwomen. At every fruit and vegetable stall--and to me they are
+the most interesting of all--sits one or more of these watchful
+creatures, cheerful, capable and always busy either with the affairs
+of the stall or with knitting or sewing. The Halles afford also very
+practical proof of the place that economy is permitted to hold in the
+French cuisine: as much being done for the small purse as for the
+large one.
+
+In England we are ashamed of economy; by avoiding it we hope to give
+the impression that we are not mean. The wise French either care less
+for their neighbour's opinions or have agreed together to dispense
+with such insincerities; and the result is that if a pennyworth of
+carrots is all that your soup requires you need not buy two
+pennyworth, and so forth. Little portions of vegetables for one, two
+or more persons, all ready for the pot, can be bought, involving no
+waste whatever, and with no faltering or excuse on the part of the
+purchaser to explain so small an order. In France a customer is a
+customer. There are no distinctions; although I do not deny that in
+the West End of Paris, where the Americans and English spend their
+money, subtle shades of courtesy (or want of it) have crept in. I have
+been treated like a prince in a small comestible shop where I wanted
+only a pennyworth of butter, a pennyworth of cheese and a pennyworth
+of milk. It is pennies that make the French rich; no one can be in any
+doubt of that who has taken notice of the thousands of small shops not
+only in Paris but in the provinces.
+
+Any one making an early morning visit to the Halles should complete it
+by seeing my goat-herd, who leads his flocks thereabouts and eastward.
+He is the prettiest sight I ever saw in Paris. There are several
+goat-herds--even Passy knows them--but my goat-herd is here. By eight
+o'clock he has done; his flock is dry. He wears a blue cloth
+tam-o'-shanter (if there can be such a thing: it is really the cap of
+the romantic mountaineer of comic opera) and he saunters carelessly
+along, piping melancholy notes on a shepherd's pipe--not unlike the
+lovely wailing that desolates the soul in the last act of _Tristan und
+Isolde_. When a customer arrives he calls one of his goats, sits down
+on the nearest doorstep--it may be a seventeenth-century palace--and
+milks a cupful; and then he is off again, with his scrannel to his
+lips, the very type of the urban Strephon.
+
+We may leave les Halles (pronounced lay al, and not, as one would
+think, lays all: one of the pitfalls for the English in Paris) by the
+Rue Berger, and enter the Square des Innocents to look at its
+decorative fountain. The next street below the Rue des Innocents is
+the Rue de la Ferronnerie, where, on May 14th, 1610, Henri IV. was
+assassinated by Ravaillac before the door of No. 3. And so by the Rue
+St. Denis, which one is always glad to enter again, and the Rue de
+Rivoli, we come to Saint-Jacques, that grey aged isolated tower which
+we have seen so often from the heights and in the distance. It is a
+beautiful Gothic building, at the summit of which is the figure of St.
+James with his emblems, the originals of which are at the Cluny. The
+tower belonged to the church of St. Jacques-la-Boucherie, but that
+being in the way when Napoleon planned the Rue de Rivoli, it had to
+go.
+
+The tower has not lately been open to the climbers, and I have never
+seen Paris from St. James's side, but I hope to. Blaise Pascal
+experimented here in the density of air; hence the presence of his
+statue below. It was also to Pascal, of whom we now think only as an
+ironist and wistful theologian, that Paris owes her omnibuses, for it
+was he that devised the first, which began to run on March 18th, 1662,
+from the Luxembourg to the Bastille. Pascal owed his conversion to his
+escape from a carriage accident on the Pont Neuf. His grave we saw at
+St. Etienne-du-Mont.
+
+In crossing the Place de l'Hotel de Ville one must not forget that
+this was once the terrible Place de Greve, the site of public
+executions for five centuries. Here we meet Catherine de Medicis
+again, for it was by her order that after the Massacre of St.
+Bartholomew the Huguenots Briquemont and Cavagnes were hanged here,
+and here also was executed Captain Montgomery, whom we are to meet in
+the next chapter. The foster-sister of Marie de Medicis was burned
+alive in the Place de Greve as a sorcerer; and Ravaillac, after
+assassinating Henri IV., here met his end. Among later victims was the
+famous Cartouche, of whom Thackeray wrote so entertainingly.
+
+The Hotel de Ville is not a building that I for one should choose to
+revisit, nor do I indeed advise others to bother about it at all; but
+externally at any rate it is fine, with its golden sentinels on high.
+Its chief merit is bulk; but there is a certain interest in observing
+a Republican palace of our own time, if only to see how near it can
+come to the real thing. A saturnine guide displays a series of
+spacious apartments, the principal attraction of which is their mural
+painting. All the best French Royal Academicians (so to speak) of
+twenty years ago had a finger in this pie, and their fantasies sprawl
+over ceilings and walls. With the exception of one room, the history
+of Paris is practically ignored, allegory being the master vogue.
+Poetry, Song, Inspiration, Fame, Ambition, Despair--all these undraped
+ladies may be seen, and many others. Also Electricity and Steam,
+Science and Art, distinguishable from their sisters only by the happy
+chance that although they forgot their clothes they did not forget
+their symbols.
+
+  [Illustration: LE BAISER
+    RODIN
+    (_Luxembourg_)]
+
+One beautiful thing only did I see, and that was a large design,
+perhaps the largest there, of Winter, by Puvis de Chavannes. But to
+say that I saw it is an exaggeration: rather, I was conscious of it.
+For the architect of the salon in which Puvis was permitted to work
+forgot to light it.
+
+In the historical room there are crowded scenes by Laurens of the past
+of Paris--the hero of which is Etienne Marcel, whose equestrian statue
+may be seen from the windows, under the river facade of the building.
+Etienne Marcel, Merchant Provost, controlled Paris after the
+disastrous battle of Poictiers, where the King and the Dauphin were
+both taken prisoners. Power, however, made him headstrong, and he was
+killed by an assassin.
+
+It is from the Hotel de Ville that the city of Paris is administered,
+with the assistance of the Prefecture de Police on the island
+opposite. The Hotel de Ville contains, so to speak, the Paris County
+Council, and I have been told that no building is so absurdly
+over-staffed. That may or may not be true. The high officials do not
+at any rate allow business to exclude the finer graces of life, for in
+the great hall in which I waited for the cicerone were long tables on
+which were some twenty or thirty baskets containing visiting cards,
+and open books containing signatures, and before each basket was a
+card bearing the name of an important functionary of the Hotel de
+Ville--such as the Prefet de la Seine, and the Sous-Prefet, and their
+principal secretaries, and so forth. Every minute or so some one came
+in, found the basket to which he wished to contribute, and dropped a
+card in it. I wondered to what extent the social machinery of Paris
+bureaucracy would be disorganised if I were to change a few baskets,
+but I did not embark upon an experiment the results of which I should
+have had no means of contemplating and enjoying.
+
+After leaving the Hotel de Ville and its modern splendours, we may
+walk eastward along the Rue de l'Hotel de Ville, one of the narrowest
+and dirtiest relics of old Paris, and so come to the Hotel de Sens.
+But first notice, at the corner of the Rue des Nonnains-d'Hyeres, at
+the point at which Mr. Dexter made his drawing, the very ancient stone
+sign of the knife-grinder. The Hotel de Sens, in the Place de l'Ave
+Maria, at the end of the Rue de l'Hotel de Ville, is almost if not
+quite the most attractive of the old palaces. Although it has been
+allowed to fall into neglect, it is still a wonderfully preserved
+specimen of fifteenth-century building. The turrets are absolutely
+beautiful. The Archbishop of Sens built it, and for nearly three
+centuries it remained the home of power and wealth, among its tenants
+being Marguerite of Valois. Then came the Revolution and its decline
+into a coach office, from which it is said the Lyons mail, made
+familiar to us by the Irvings, started. During a later revolution,
+1830, a cannon ball found a billet in the wall, and it may still be
+seen there, I am told, although these eyes missed it. The Hotel is now
+a glass factory. The city of Paris ought to acquire it before it sinks
+any lower.
+
+It is at the foot of the Rue de l'Ave Maria, hard by, that Moliere's
+theatre, which we saw from the Quai des Celestins in an earlier
+chapter, is found. Here Moliere was arrested at the instance of the
+unpaid tallow chandler. Our way now is by the Rue Figuier, of which
+the Hotel de Sens is No. 1, to the Rue Francois-Miron, all among the
+most fascinating old architecture and association. At No. 8 Rue
+Figuier, for instance, Rabelais is said to have lived, and what could
+be better than that? At No. 17, we have what the Vicomte de
+Villebresme calls a "jolie niche du XVe siecle". This street leads
+into the Rue de Jouy, also exceedingly old, with notable buildings,
+such as No. 7, the work of Mansard pere, and No. 9, and on the left of
+the Impasse Guepine, which existed in the reign of Saint Louis.
+
+In the Rue Francois-Miron, if you do not mind exhibiting a little
+inquisitiveness, enter the doorway of No. 68, and look at the
+courtyard and the staircase. Here you get an excellent idea of past
+glories, while the outer doors or gates give an excellent idea of past
+danger too. For life in Paris in the days in which this street was
+built must have been very cheap after dark. It is not dear even now in
+certain parts. This was an historic mansion. It was built for Madame
+de Beaumaris, femme de chambre of Anne of Austria, and on its balcony,
+now removed, on August 20th, 1660, Anne stood with Mazarin and others
+when Louis XIV. entered Paris. No. 82 still retains a balcony of great
+charm.
+
+We now enter the very busy Rue St. Antoine at its junction with the
+Rue de Rivoli. Almost immediately on our right is a gateway leading
+into a very charming courtyard, which is not open to the public, but
+into which one may gently trespass; it is the school of the Freres
+Chretiens, founded by Frere Joseph, the good priest with the sweet and
+sad old face whose bust is on the wall. A few steps farther bring us
+to the church of St. Paul and St. Louis, a florid and imposing fane,
+to which Victor Hugo (to whose house we are now making our way)
+carried his first child to be christened, and presented to the church
+two holy water stoops in commemoration. Here also Richelieu celebrated
+his first mass. One of Delacroix's best early works (we saw the
+picture called "Hommage a Delacroix," you will remember, in the Moreau
+collection at the Louvre) is in the left transept, "Christ in the
+Garden of Gethsemane". On no account miss the Passage Charlemagne
+(close to the St. Paul Station on the Metro) for it is a curious, busy
+and very French by-way, and it possesses the remains of a palace of
+the fourteenth century. In the Passage de St. Pierre is the site of
+the old cemetery of St. Paul's in which Rabelais was buried.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE
+
+     A Beautiful Square--The Palais des Tournelles--Revolutionary
+     Changes--Madame de Sevigne and Rachel--Hugo's Crowded
+     Life--A Riot of Relics--Victorious Versatility--Dumas'
+     Pen--The Age of Giants--Dickens--"Les Trois Dumas".
+
+
+Were we to walk a little farther along the busy Rue St. Antoine
+towards the Place de la Bastille, we should come, on the left, a few
+yards past the church of St. Louis, to the Rue de Birague, at the head
+of which is the beautiful red gateway of which Mr. Dexter has made
+such a charming picture. This is the southern gateway of the Place des
+Vosges, a spacious green square enclosed by massive red and white
+houses of brick and stone which once were the abode, when the Place
+des Vosges was the Place Royale, of the aristocracy of France.
+
+Before that time the courtyard of the old Palais des Tournelles was
+here, where Henri II. was killed in a tournament in 1559, through an
+accident for which Captain Montgomery of the Scotch Guard, whose fault
+Catherine de Medicis deemed it to be, was executed, as we have just
+seen, in the Place de l'Hotel-de-Ville. Catherine de Medicis, not
+content with thus avenging her husband's death, demolished the Palais
+des Tournelles, and a few years later Henri IV., to whom old Paris
+owes so much, built the Place Royale, just as it is now. His own
+pavilion was the centre building on the south side, comprising the
+gateway which Mr. Dexter has drawn; the Queen's was the corresponding
+building on the north side.
+
+Around dwelt the nobles of the Court--such at any rate as were not
+living in the adjoining Marais. Richelieu's hotel embraced Nos. 21-23
+as they now are. It was in front of that mansion that the famous duel
+between Montmorency-Bouteville and Des Chapelles against Bussy and
+Beuvron was fought. The spirit of the great Dumas, one feels, must
+haunt this Place: for it is peopled with ghosts from his brave
+romances.
+
+The decay of the Place des Vosges began, of course, when the
+aristocracy moved over to the Faubourg St. Germain, although it never
+sank low. The Revolution then took it in hand, and naturally began by
+destroying the statue of Louis XIII. in the centre, which Richelieu
+had set up, while its name was changed from Place Royale to its
+present style in honour of the Department of the Vosges, the first to
+contribute funds to the new order. In 1825, under Charles X., Louis
+XIII. in a new stone dress returned to his honoured position in the
+midst of the square, and all was as it should be once more, save that
+no longer did lords and ladies ruffle it here or in the Marais.
+
+  [Illustration: THE PLACE DES VOSGES
+    (SOUTHERN ENTRANCE, IN THE RUE BIRAGUE)]
+
+The most picturesque associations of the Place des Vosges are
+historical; but it has at any rate three houses which have an artistic
+interest. At No. 1 was born that gifted and delightful lady in whose
+home in later years we have spent such pleasant hours--Madame de
+Sevigne, or as she was in those early days (she was born in 1626)
+Marie de Rabutin-Chantal. At No. 13 lived for a while Rachel the
+tragedienne. According to Herr Baedeker, who is not often wrong, she
+died here too: but other authorities place her death at Carmet, near
+Toulon. I like to think that this rare wayward and terrible creature
+of emotion was once an inhabitant of these walls. The third house is
+No. 6, in the south-eastern corner, the second floor of which, from
+1833 to 1848, was the home of Victor Hugo. It is now a Hugo museum.
+Although Hugo occupied only a small portion, the whole house is now
+dedicated to his spreading memory. Let us enter.
+
+There is nothing in England like the Hugo museum. I have been to
+Carlyle's house in Cheyne Row; to Johnson's house at Lichfield; to
+Wordsworth's house at Grasmere; to Milton's house at Chalfont St.
+Giles; to Leighton's House at Kensington; and the impression left by
+all is that their owners lived very thin lives. The rooms convey a
+sense of bareness: one is struck not by the wealth of relics but by
+the poverty of them; while for any suggestion that these men were
+pulsating creatures of friendship one seeks in vain. But Hugo--Hugo's
+house throbs with life and energy and warm prosperous amities. Every
+inch is crowded with mementoes of his vigour and his triumphs, yes,
+and his failures too.
+
+Here are portraits of him by the hundred, at all ages, caricatures,
+lampoons, play bills, first editions, popular editions, furniture by
+Hugo, decorations by Hugo, drawings by Hugo, scenes in Hugo's life in
+exile, wreaths, busts, portraits of his grandchildren (who taught him
+the exquisite art of being a grandfather), his death-bed, his
+death-mask, the cast of his hands. Hugo, Hugo, everywhere, always
+tremendous and splendid and passionate and French.
+
+Among the more valuable possessions of this museum are
+Bastien-Lepage's charcoal drawing of the master; Besnard's picture of
+the first night of Hernani with the young romantic on the stage taking
+his call and hurling defiance at the gods; Steinlen's oil painting
+(there are not many oil paintings by this great draughtsman and great
+Parisian) "Les Pauvres Gens"; Daumier's cartoon "Les Chatiments";
+Henner's "Sarah la Baigneuse" from _Les Orientales_; allegories by
+Chifflart; beautiful canvases by Carriere and Fantin-Latour; and
+Devambez's "Jean Valjean before the tribunal of Arras," in which Jean
+is curiously like Gladstone in a bad coat; Vierge's drawing of the
+funeral of Georges Hugo, during the siege; and Yama Motto's curious
+scene of Hugo's own funeral, of which there are many photographs,
+including one of the coffin as it lay in state for two days under the
+Arc de Triomphe. There are also a number of Hugo relics which the
+camelots of that day were selling to the crowds.
+
+Hugo, it is well known, nursed a private ambition to be a great
+artist, and in my opinion he was a great artist. There are on these
+walls drawings from his hand which are magnificent--mysterious and
+sombre fortresses on impregnable cliffs, scenes in enchanted lands
+with more imagination than ever Dore compassed, and some of the
+sinister cruelty and power of Meryon. Hugo was ingenious too: he
+decorated a room with coloured carvings in the Chinese manner and he
+made the neatest folding table I ever saw--hinged into the wall so
+that when not in use it takes up no floor-space whatever.
+
+It is amusing to follow Hugo's physiognomy through the ages, at first
+beardless, looking when young rather like Bruant, the chansonnier of
+to-day; then the coming of the beard, and the progress of it until the
+final stage in which the mental eye now always sees the old
+poet--white and strong and benevolent--the Hugo, in short, of Bonnat's
+famous portrait.
+
+On a table is a collection of literary souvenirs of intense interest:
+Hugo's pen and inkstand, and the great Dumas' pen presented to Hugo in
+1860 after writing with it his last "15 or 20" volumes (fifteen _or_
+twenty--how like him!); Lamartine's inkstand, offered "to the master
+of the pen"; George Sand's match-box for those endless cigarettes, and
+with it her travelling inkstand. In another room upstairs are the six
+pens used by Hugo in writing _Les Humbles_. Dumas' pen is not by any
+means the only Dumas relic here; portraits of him are to be seen, one
+of them astonishingly negroid. Had he too worked for liberty and
+carried in his breast or even on his sleeve a great heart that, like
+Hugo's, responded to every call and beat furiously at the very whisper
+of the word injustice, he too would have his museum to-day not less
+remarkable than this. But to write romances was not enough: there must
+be toil and suffering too.
+
+Dumas and Hugo were born in the same year, 1802: Balzac was then
+three. In 1809 came Tennyson and Gladstone; in 1811 Thackeray and in
+1812 Browning and Dickens. What was the secret of that astounding
+period? Why did the first twelve years of the last century know such
+energy and abundance? To walk through the rooms of this Hugo museum,
+however casually, is to be amazed before the vitality and exuberance
+not only of this man but of the French genius. It is truly only the
+busy who have time. I wish none the less that there was a museum for
+Alexandre the Great. I would love to visit it: I would love to see his
+kitchen utensils alone. The generous glorious creature, "the seven and
+seventy times to be forgiven"! As it was, no one being about, I kissed
+the pen with which he had written his last "15 or 20" novels (the
+splendid liar!).
+
+I wish too that we had a permanent Dickens' museum in London--say at
+his house in Devonshire Terrace, which is now a lawyer's office. What
+a fascinating memorial of Merry England it might become, and what a
+reminder to this attenuated specialising day of the vigour and
+versatility and variety and inconquerable vivacity of that giant! Just
+as no one can leave Hugo's house without a quickening of imagination
+and ambition, so no one could leave that of Charles Dickens.
+
+In addition to this museum Hugo has his monument in the Place Victor
+Hugo, far away in a residential desert in the north-west of Paris, a
+bronze figure of the poet as a young man seated on a rock, with
+Satire, Lyric Poetry and Fame attending him; while on the facade of
+the house where he died, No. 124 Avenue Victor Hugo, is a medallion
+portrait. He figures also in a fresco in the Hotel de Ville. Dumas'
+monument is in the garden of the Place Malesherbes in the Avenue de
+Villiers. Dore designed it, as was perhaps fitting. The sturdy
+Alexandre sits, pen in hand, on the summit, his West Indian hair
+curling vigorously into the sky, with d'Artagnan and three engrossed
+readers at the base. It is not quite what one would have wished; but
+it is good to visit. His son, the dramatist, the author of that
+adorable joke against his father's vanity--that he was capable of
+riding behind his own carriage to persuade people that he kept a black
+servant--has a monument close by; and the gallant general of whom one
+reads such brave stories in the first volume of the _Memoires_ is to
+be set there too, and then the Place, I am told, will be re-named the
+Place des Trois Dumas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE BASTILLE, PERE LACHAISE AND THE END
+
+     A Thoughtful Municipality--The Fall of the Bastille--Revolt
+     and Revolution--The Column of July--A Paris
+     Canal--Deliberate Building--The Buttes-Chaumont--A City of
+     the Dead--Pere la Chaise--Bartholome's Monument--The
+     Cimetiere de Mont Parnasse--The Country round Paris--What we
+     have Missed--Conclusion.
+
+
+The Place des Vosges is close to the Place de la Bastille, which lies
+to the east of it along the Rue St. Antoine. The prison has gone for
+ever, but one is assisted by a thoughtful municipality to reconstruct
+it, a task of no difficulty at all if one remembers with any vividness
+the models in the Carnavalet or the Archives, or buys a pictorial
+postcard at any neighbouring shop. The contribution of the pious city
+fathers is a map on the facade of No. 36 Place de la Bastille, and a
+permanent outline of the walls of the dreadful building inlaid in the
+road and pavement, which one may follow step by step to the
+satisfaction of one's imagination and the derangement of the traffic
+until it disappears into cafes and shops. One has to remember,
+however, that the surface of the ground was much lower, the prison
+being surrounded by a moat and gained only by bridges. For the actual
+stones one must go to the Pont de la Concorde, the upper part of which
+was built of them in 1790.
+
+The Bastille's end came in 1789, at the beginning of the Revolution,
+on the day after the National Guard was established, when the people
+of Paris rose under Camille Desmoulins and captured it, thus not only
+displaying but discovering their strength. Carlyle was never more
+scornful, never more cruelly vivid, than in his description of this
+event. I must quote a little, it is so horribly splendid: "To describe
+this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of the most important in
+History) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals. Could one but,
+after infinite reading, get to understand so much as the plan of the
+building! But there is open Esplanade, at the end of the Rue
+Saint-Antoine; there are such Forecourts, _Cour Avancee, Cour de
+l'Orme_, arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights); then new
+drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampart-bastions, and the grim Eight
+Towers: a labyrinthic Mass, high-frowning there, of all ages from
+twenty years to four hundred and twenty;--beleaguered, in this its
+last hour, as we said, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance of all
+calibres; throats of all capacities; men of all plans, every man his
+own engineer: seldom since the war of Pygmies and Cranes was there
+seen so anomalous a thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of
+regimentals; no one would heed him in coloured clothes: half-pay Hulin
+is haranguing Gardes Francaises in the Place de Greve. Frantic
+Patriots pick up the grapeshots; bear them, still hot (or seemingly
+so), to the Hotel-de-Ville:--Paris, you perceive, is to be burnt!
+Flesselles is 'pale to the very lips'; for the roar of the multitude
+grows deep. Paris wholly has got to the acme of its frenzy; whirled,
+all ways, by panic madness. At every street-barricade, there whirls
+simmering a minor whirlpool,--strengthening the barricade, since God
+knows what is coming; and all minor whirlpools play distractedly into
+that grand Fire-Maelstrom which is lashing round the Bastille.
+
+"And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant has become an
+impromptu cannoneer. See Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh from
+Brest, ply the King of Siam's cannon. Singular (if we were not used to
+the like): Georget lay, last night, taking his ease at his inn; the
+King of Siam's cannon also lay, knowing nothing of _him_, for a
+hundred years. Yet now, at the right instant, they have got together,
+and discourse eloquent music. For, hearing what was toward, Georget
+sprang from the Brest Diligence, and ran. Gardes Francaises also will
+be here, with real artillery: were not the walls so thick!--Upwards
+from the Esplanade, horizontally from all neighbouring roofs and
+windows, flashes one irregular deluge of musketry, without effect. The
+Invalides lie flat, firing comparatively at their ease from behind
+stone; hardly through portholes show the tip of a nose. We fall, shot;
+and make no impression!
+
+  [Illustration: LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS
+    MILLET
+    (_Louvre, Chauchard Collection_)]
+
+"Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible! Guard-rooms are
+burnt, Invalides mess-rooms. A distracted 'Perukemaker with two fiery
+torches' is for burning 'the saltpetres of the Arsenal';--had not a
+woman run screaming; had not a Patriot, with some tincture of Natural
+Philosophy, instantly struck the wind out of him (butt of musket on
+pit of stomach), overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring element.
+A young beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer Courts, and
+thought falsely to be De Launay's daughter, shall be burnt in De
+Launay's sight; she lies swooned on a paillasse: but again a Patriot,
+it is brave Aubin Bonnemere the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues
+her. Straw is burnt; three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go up in
+white smoke: almost to the choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elie
+had, with singed brows, to drag back one cart; and Reole the 'gigantic
+haberdasher' another. Smoke as of Tophet; confusion as of Babel; noise
+as of the Crack of Doom!
+
+"Blood flows; the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried into
+houses of the Rue Cerisaie; the dying leave their last mandate not to
+yield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall? The
+walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive from the
+Hotel-de-Ville; Abbe Fauchet (who was of one) can say, with what
+almost superhuman courage of benevolence. These wave their Town-flag
+in the arched Gateway; and stand, rolling their drum; but to no
+purpose. In such Crack of Doom De Launay cannot hear them, dare not
+believe them: they return, with justified rage, the whew of lead still
+singing in their ears. What to do? The Firemen are here, squirting
+with their fire-pumps on the Invalides cannon, to wet the touchholes;
+they unfortunately cannot squirt so high; but produce only clouds of
+spray. Individuals of classical knowledge propose _catapults_.
+Santerre, the sonorous Brewer of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, advises
+rather that the place be fired, by a 'mixture of phosphorus and
+of oil-of-turpentine spouted up through forcing-pumps': O
+Spinola-Santerre, hast thou the mixture _ready_? Every man his own
+engineer! And still the fire-deluge abates not: even women are firing,
+and Turks; at least one woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk.
+Gardes Francaises have come: real cannon, real cannoneers. Usher
+Maillard is busy; half-pay Elie, half-pay Hulin rage in the midst of
+thousands.
+
+"How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court
+there, at its ease, hour after hour; as if nothing special, for it or
+the world, were passing! It tolled One when the firing began; and is
+now pointing towards Five, and still the firing slakes not.--Far down,
+in their vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as of
+earthquakes; their Turnkeys answer vaguely.
+
+"Wo to thee, De Launay, with thy poor hundred Invalides! Broglie is
+distant, and his ears heavy: Besenval hears, but can send no help. One
+poor troop of Hussars has crept, reconnoitering, cautiously along the
+Quais, as far as the Pont Neuf. 'We are come to join you,' said the
+Captain; for the crowd seem shoreless. A large-headed dwarfish
+individual, of smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his
+blue lips, for there is sense in him; and croaks: 'Alight then, and
+give up your arms!' The Hussar-Captain is too happy to be escorted to
+the Barriers, and dismissed on parole. Who the squat individual was?
+Men answer, It is M. Marat, author of the excellent pacific _Avis au
+Peuple_! Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy day of
+emergence and new-birth: and yet this same day come four years--!--But
+let the curtains of the Future hang."
+
+After some hours the deed is done and Paris re-echoes to the cries "La
+Bastille est prise!" "In the Court, all is mystery, not without
+whisperings of terror; though ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye
+foolish women! His Majesty, kept in happy ignorance, perhaps dreams of
+double-barrels and the Woods of Meudon. Late at night, the Duke de
+Liancourt, having official right of entrance, gains access to the
+Royal Apartments; unfolds, with earnest clearness, in his
+constitutional way, the Job's-news. '_Mais_,' said poor Louis, '_c'est
+une revolte_, Why, that is a revolt!'--'Sire,' answered Liancourt, 'it
+is not a revolt,--it is a revolution.'"
+
+That was July 14th, 1789; but it is not the July that the Colonne de
+Juillet in the centre of the Place celebrates. That July was forty-one
+years later, not so late but that many Parisians could remember both
+events. July 27th to 29th, 1830, the Second Revolution, which
+overturned the Bourbons and set Louis-Philippe of Orleans in the siege
+perilleux of France. Louis-Philippe himself erected this monument in
+memory of the six hundred and fifteen citizens who fell in his
+interests and who are buried beneath. Their names are cut in the
+bronze of the column, on the summit of which is the beautiful winged
+figure of Liberty.
+
+Beneath the vault of the Colonne, and immediately beneath the Colonne
+itself, runs the great canal which brings merchandise into Paris from
+the east, entering the Seine between the Pont Sully and the Pont
+d'Austerlitz. At this point it is not very interesting, but from the
+Avenue de la Republique, where it re-emerges again into the light of
+day, and thence right away to the Abattoirs de Villette, it is very
+amusing to stroll by. The Paris _Daily Mail_, which in its eager
+paternal way has taken English and American visitors completely under
+its wing, is diurnally anxious that its readers should make a tour of
+these abattoirs. But not I. That a holiday in Paris should include the
+examination of a slaughter-house strikes me as a joyless proposition,
+putting thoroughness far before pleasure. But the _Daily Mail_ is like
+that; it also does its best on the second and fourth Wednesdays in
+every month to get its compatriots down the Paris sewers. And I
+suppose they go. Strange heart of the tourist! We never think of
+penetrating either to the sewers or the slaughter-houses of our native
+land; we have no theories of sewers, no data for comparison; we love
+the upper air and the sun. But being in a foreign city we cheerfully
+give the second or fourth Wednesday to such delights.
+
+Having taken the _Daily Mail's_ advice and visited the abattoirs
+(which I have not done), one cannot do better than return to Paris by
+way of the canal, sauntering beside it all the way to the Rue Faubourg
+du Temple, where one passes into the Place de la Republique and the
+stir of the city once more. The canal descends from the heights of La
+Villette in a series of long steps, as it were (or, to take the most
+dissonant simile possible to devise, like the lakes at Wootton), built
+up by locks. Idling by this canal one sees many agreeable phases of
+human toil. Many commodities and materials reach Paris by barge, and
+it is on these quais and in the Villette basin that the unloading is
+done; while the barges themselves are pleasant spectacles--so long and
+clean and broad--very Mauretanias beside the barges of Holland--with
+spacious deck-houses that are often perfect villas, the wife and
+children watering the flowers at the door.
+
+One quai is given up wholly to lime. This arrives in thousands of
+little solid sacks which stevedores whiter than millers transfer to
+the carts, that, in their turn, creak off to disorganise the traffic
+of a hundred streets and provoke the contempt of a thousand drivers
+before they reach their destined building, on which the workmen have
+already been engaged for two years and will be engaged for two years
+more. There is no hurry in constructional work in Paris--except of
+course on Exhibitions, which spring up in a night. The same piece of
+road that was up in the Rue Lafayette for some surface trouble in a
+recent April, I found still up in October. But they have the grace,
+when rebuilding a house in the city, to hide their deliberate
+processes behind a wooden screen--such a screen as was opposite the
+Cafe de la Paix, at the south-east corner of the Boulevard des
+Capucines, for, it seems to me, years.
+
+If, however, one is walking beside the canal in the other direction,
+up the hill instead of down, one will soon be nearer the Victoria Park
+of Paris, the park of the east end, than at any other time, and this
+should be visited as surely as the abattoirs should be avoided:
+unless, of course, one is a well-informed or thoughtful butcher. We
+have seen the Parc Monceau; well, the antithesis of the Parc Monceau,
+which has no counter-part in London, is the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.
+Both are children's paradises, the only difference in the children
+being social position. The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont is sixty acres of
+trees and walks and perpendicular rocks and water, the special charm
+of which is its diversified character, rising in the midst to an
+immense height made easy for carriages and perambulators by a winding
+road. It has a deep gorge crossed by a suspension bridge, a lake for
+boats, a cascade, and thousands of chairs side by side, touching,
+lining the roads, on which the maids and matrons of La Villette and
+Belleville sew and gossip, while the children play around. The parc
+was made in the sixties: before then it had been a waste ground and
+gypsum quarry--hence its attractive irregularities. How wonderful the
+heights and cathedral of Montmartre can appear from one of the peaks
+of the Buttes-Chaumont, Mr. Dexter's drawing shows.
+
+The Buttes-Chaumont is the most easterly point we have yet reached;
+but there is another parc more easterly still awaiting us, not unlike
+the Buttes-Chaumont in its acclivities, but unlike it in this
+particular, that it is a parc not of the living but the dead. I mean
+Pere Lachaise. Pere Lachaise! What kind of an old man do you think
+gave his name to this cemetery? Most persons, I imagine, see him as
+white-haired and venerable: not twinkling, like Papa Gontier, but
+serene and noble and sad. As a matter of fact he was a pere only by
+profession and courtesy. Pere Lachaise was Louis XIV.'s fashionable
+confessor (Landor has a diverting imaginary conversation between these
+two), and the cemetery took its name from his house, which chanced to
+occupy the site of the present chapel. The ground was enclosed as a
+burial ground as recently as 1804, which means of course that the
+famous tomb of Abelard and Heloise, to which all travellers find their
+way, is a modern reconstruction. The remains of La Fontaine and
+Moliere and other illustrious men who died before 1804 were
+transferred here, just as Zola's were recently transferred from the
+cemetery of Montmartre to the Pantheon, but with less excitement.
+
+Pere Lachaise cannot be taken lightly. The French live very
+thoroughly, but when they die they die thoroughly too, and their
+cemeteries confess the scythe. There may be, to our thinking, too much
+architecture; but it is serious. There is no mountebanking (as at
+Genoa), nor is there any whining, as in some of our own churchyards.
+Death to a Frenchman is a fact and a mystery, to be faced when the
+time comes, if not before, and to be honoured. On certain festivals of
+the year there are a thousand mourners to every acre of Pere Lachaise.
+
+The natural entrance is by the Rue de la Roquette, but it is less
+fatiguing to enter at the top, at the new gate in the Avenue du Pere
+Lachaise, and walk downhill; for the paths are steep and the cemetery
+covers a hundred acres and more. The objection to this course is that
+one loses some of the sublimity of Bartholome's _Monument aux Morts_
+at the foot of the mountain on which the chapel stands. This monument
+faces the principal entrance with the careful design of impressing the
+visitor, and its impact can be tremendous. We approach it by the
+Avenue Principale, in which lies Alfred de Musset, with the willow
+waving over his tomb and his own lines upon it.
+
+And then one enters seriously upon this strange pilgrimage among names
+and memories. Chopin lies here, his music stilled, and Talma the
+tragedian; Beaumarchais and Marechal Ney; Cherubini and Alphonse
+Daudet; Balzac, his pen for ever idle, and Delacroix; Beranger, who
+made the nation's ballads, and Brillat-Savarin, all his dinners eaten;
+Michelet, the historian, and Planquette, the composer of _Les Cloches
+de Corneville_; Daumier, the great artist who saw to the heart of
+things, and Corot, who befriended Daumier's last years; Daubigny and
+Rosa Bonheur, Thiers and Scribe; Rachel, once so very living, and many
+Rothschilds now poorer than I.
+
+  [Illustration: LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS
+    A. BARTHOLOME
+    (_Pere la Chaise_)]
+
+Paris has other cemeteries, as we know, for we have walked through
+that of Montmartre; but there is also the Cimetiere de Montparnasse,
+where lie Sainte-Beuve and Leconte de Lisle, Theodore de Banville,
+master of _vers de societe_, and Fantin-Latour, Baudelaire (lying
+beneath a figure of the Genius of Evil), and Barbey d'Aurevilly, the
+dandy-novelist. There are also the cemeteries of Passy and Picpus, but
+into these I have never wandered. Lafayette lies at Picpus, which is
+behind a convent in the Rue de Picpus, and costs fifty centimes to
+see, and there also were buried many victims of the guillotine besides
+those whose bodies were flung into the earth behind the Madeleine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All the space at my disposal has been required by Paris itself; and
+such is the human interest that at any rate in the older parts clings
+to every stone and saturates the soil, that I do not know that I
+have had any temptation to rove beyond the fortifications. But that
+of course is not right. No one really knows the Parisians until he
+sees them in happy summer mood in one of the pleasure resorts on the
+Seine, or winning money at Enghien, or lunching in one of the
+tree-top restaurants at Robinson. We have indeed been curiously
+unenterprising, and it is all owing to the fascination of Paris
+herself and the narrow dimensions of this book. We have not even been
+to St. Denis, to stand among the ashes of the French kings; we have
+not descended the formal slopes of St. Cloud; we have not peeped into
+Corot's little chapel at Ville d'Avray; we have not seen the home of
+Sevres porcelain; we have not scaled Mont-Valerien; we have not taken
+boat for Marly-le-Roi; we have not wandered marvelling but weary amid
+the battle scenes of Versailles, or smiled at the pretty fopperies of
+the hamlet of the Petit Trianon. We have not known the groves either
+of the Bois de Vincennes or the Bois de Meudon.
+
+Much less have we fed those guzzling gourmands, the carp of Chantilly,
+or lost ourselves before the little Raphael there, or the curious
+Leonardo sketch for La Joconde, or the sweet simplicities of the
+pretty Jean Fouquet illuminations, particularly the domestic
+solicitude of the ladies attending upon the birth of John the Baptist;
+less still have we forgotten the restlessness and urgency of Paris
+amid the allees and rochers of the Forest of Fontainebleau, and the
+still white streets of Barbizon, or even on the steps of the chateau
+where the Great Emperor, thoughts of whom are never very distant--are
+indeed too near--bade farewell to his Old Guard in 1814.
+
+Greater Paris, it will be gathered, is hardly less interesting than
+Paris herself; and indeed how pleasant it would be to write about it!
+But not here.
+
+Of Paris within the fortifications have I, I wonder, conveyed any of
+the fascination, the variety, the colour, the self-containment. I hope
+so. I hope too that at any rate these pages have implanted in a few
+readers the desire to see this beautiful and efficient city for
+themselves, and even more should I value the knowledge that they had
+excited in others who are not strangers to Paris the wish to be there
+again. To do justice to such a city, with such a history, is of course
+an impossibility. What, however, should not be impossible is to create
+a gout.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+     ABATTOIRS, the, 312.
+
+     Abbaye-aux-Bois, 160.
+
+     Abelard, 315.
+
+     Advocates and barristers, 24.
+
+     Alvantes, Duchesse d', 45.
+
+     Angelo, Michael, 102.
+
+     Anne of Austria, 297.
+
+     Antoinette, Marie, 20, 21, 71, 215, 216.
+
+     Apollon, Galerie d', 248.
+
+     Arbre-Sec, Rue de l', 288.
+
+     Arc de Triomphe, 114, 142-45, 302.
+
+     Archives, the, 64, 65.
+
+     Arenes, the, 187.
+
+     Aristocratic homes, 62, 145, 158.
+
+     Arnold, Matthew, quoted, 267-69.
+
+     Artagnan, D', 288.
+
+     Arts et Metiers, Musee de, 258.
+
+     Astruc, 178.
+
+     Attila the Hun, 190.
+
+     Aurevilly, B. d', 317.
+
+     Austerlitz, 214.
+
+     Ave-Maria, Rue de l', 297.
+
+
+     BAEDEKER, 215, 261, 301.
+
+     "Bagatelle," 146.
+
+     Bal Bullier, 179.
+
+     Balloons, 51.
+
+     Balzac, 159, 178, 194, 260, 304, 316.
+
+     Banville, T. de, 178, 317.
+
+     Barbizon School, 100, 103-6.
+
+     Bard, Wilkie, 235.
+
+     Barristers and advocates, 24.
+
+     Barry, the St. Bernard dog, 208.
+
+     Bartholome, 316.
+
+     Bartholomew, St., Massacre of, 23, 286.
+
+     Barye, the sculptor, 60, 245.
+
+     Bassano, 89.
+
+     Bastien-Lepage, 177.
+
+     Bastille, the, 72, 306-12.
+
+     Baudelaire, Charles, 56, 104, 317.
+
+     Beauharnais, Josephine, 45, 158, 174.
+
+     Beaumarchais, 316.
+
+     Beaumaris, Madame de, 297.
+
+     Beaux-Arts, Palais des, 150.
+
+     Beggars in Paris, 263.
+
+     Bellini, 91.
+
+     Benefices, 231, 232.
+
+     Beranger, 258.
+
+     Bergere, Cite, 250.
+
+     Berlioz, 178, 225, 269.
+
+     Bernard, Saint, 52.
+
+     Bernhardt, 251.
+
+     _Besieged Resident, the_, 210-13.
+
+     Besnard, 302.
+
+     Bibliotheque de Mazarin, 166.
+
+     ---- Nationale, 247.
+
+     Bievre, the river, 186, 187.
+
+     Bigio, 88.
+
+     Billiards in Paris, 220-22.
+
+     Birague, Rue de, 299.
+
+     Birds, the charmer of, 127-30.
+
+     Birrell, Mr. Augustine, 15.
+
+     Blanche, 177.
+
+     ---- Rue, 260.
+
+     Bodley, Mr., 200.
+
+     Boilly, 71.
+
+     Bois de Boulogne, the, 145-49.
+
+     Bol, 93.
+
+     Bone, Mr. Muirhead, 24, 67.
+
+     Bonheur, Rosa, 317.
+
+     Bonington, 92, 98, 102.
+
+     Bonnat, 303.
+
+     Bons Enfants, Rue des, 286.
+
+     Bookhunters, 17, 18.
+
+     Bookstalls in Paris and London, 14-18.
+
+     Borssom, 98.
+
+     Botticelli, 79, 80, 89.
+
+     Bottin, 154.
+
+     Boucher, 70, 99.
+
+     Bouland, 176.
+
+     Boulevardiers, 219, 239.
+
+     Boulevards, Grands, 218, 219.
+
+     Bourse, the, 248, 249.
+
+     Boverie, 285.
+
+     Brillat-Savarin, 316.
+
+     Brisemiche, Rue, 75.
+
+     Browning, 304.
+
+     Bruant, Aristide, 271, 303.
+
+     Building in Paris, 313.
+
+     Buridan, 180.
+
+     Buttes-Chaumont, Parc, 264, 314.
+
+
+     CABARETS artistiques, 270, 271.
+
+     Cabman, the singing, 2.
+
+     Cabmen in Paris, 240-42.
+
+     Cafe de la Paix, 227-43.
+
+     Cafes, 227, 228.
+
+     ---- night, 273-75.
+
+     Cain, M. Georges, 160, 200.
+
+     Canals, 313.
+
+     Capel Court, 249.
+
+     Capucines, Boulevard des, 220-24, 273.
+
+     Caran d'Ache, 271.
+
+     Carlyle, 178.
+
+     ---- quoted, 37-41, 116-21, 134-37, 138-40, 279-81, 284, 285,
+       307-11.
+
+     Carnavalet, Musee, 61, 69-74.
+
+     Caro-Delvalle, 177.
+
+     Carolus-Duran, 176, 178.
+
+     Carpeaux, 110, 225.
+
+     Carriere, 105, 176, 177, 302.
+
+     Carries, 151.
+
+     Carrousel, Arc de, 117-21.
+
+     Cartoons in the street, 249.
+
+     Cartouche, 294.
+
+     Caxton, William, quoted, 57, 59, 189-91, 253-55, 289.
+
+     Cazin, 152, 175, 176.
+
+     Cemeteries in Paris, 315-17.
+
+     Cerrito, 226.
+
+     Cerutti, 245.
+
+     Champions of France, 221.
+
+     Champs-Elysees, 141, 142.
+
+     Chanoinesse, Rue, 52.
+
+     Chantilly, 318.
+
+     Chardin, 70, 95, 99.
+
+     Charlemagne, Passage, 298.
+
+     Charles X., 300.
+
+     Charmer of birds, the, 127-30.
+
+     Chateaubriand, 159, 160.
+
+     Chauchard Collection, 106.
+
+     Chaudet, 110.
+
+     Chauffeurs in Paris, 242, 243.
+
+     Chaussee d'Antin, Rue de la, 245.
+
+     Chavannes, Puvis de, 152, 181, 190, 193, 295.
+
+     Cherubini, 226.
+
+     Chifflart, 302.
+
+     Childeric, 190.
+
+     Chopin, 143, 178, 245, 251, 316.
+
+     Christianity in Paris, 190.
+
+     Church music, 289.
+
+     Churches--
+
+       Blancs-Manteaux, 67.
+
+       Madeleine, 188.
+
+       Pantheon, 188-96.
+
+       Petits Peres, 249.
+
+       Sacre-Coeur, 262.
+
+       St. Elizabeth of Hungary, 64.
+
+       ---- Etienne-du-Mont, 193, 196-98.
+
+       ---- Eugene, 251.
+
+       ---- Eustache, 40, 289.
+
+       ---- Germain du Pre, 163.
+
+       ---- ---- l'Auxerrois, 286-88.
+
+       ---- Jacques-la-Boucherie, 293.
+
+       ---- Joseph de Carmes, 178.
+
+       ---- Julien le Pauvre, 185.
+
+       ---- Merry, 76.
+
+       ---- Nicholas-des-Champs, 77.
+
+       ---- Paul and St. Louis, 298.
+
+       ---- Roch, 278-81, 283.
+
+       ---- Severin, 185.
+
+       ---- Sorbonne, 181.
+
+       ---- Sulpice, 163.
+
+     "Ciel," 270.
+
+     Cigars in Paris, 223.
+
+     Cimetieres in Paris, 264, 266-70.
+
+     ---- du Nord, 266-70.
+
+     Claque, the, 233.
+
+     Clarac collection, 110.
+
+     Claude, 91, 98.
+
+     Clichy, Boulevard, 270.
+
+     Clocks in Paris, 22.
+
+     Clotilde, 190.
+
+     Clouet, 97.
+
+     Clovis, 190.
+
+     Cluny, Musee de, 181-84.
+
+     Coligny, 286.
+
+     Colonna, Vittoria, 89.
+
+     Colonne de Juillet, 311, 312.
+
+     Commune, the, 27, 115, 124, 217, 258, 264, 278, 285.
+
+     Compas d'Or, the, 5, 6.
+
+     Comte, 181.
+
+     Concierge, the, 230.
+
+     Conciergerie, the, 19-23.
+
+     Concorde, the Place de La, 132-40.
+
+     ---- Pont de la, 307.
+
+     Conservatoire, the, 251.
+
+     Constable, 92.
+
+     Coquelin, 251, 259.
+
+     Corday, Charlotte, 216.
+
+     Corot, 99, 103, 105, 178, 317.
+
+     Correggio, 88, 91, 95.
+
+     Cosimo, Piero di, 90.
+
+     Cour du Dragon, 161.
+
+     Coustou, 110.
+
+     Couture, 105.
+
+     Coyzevox, 110.
+
+     Curiosity shops, 159.
+
+
+     _DAILY MAIL_ in Paris, 312.
+
+     Dalou, 151, 175, 259.
+
+     Dammouse, 176.
+
+     Dancing halls, 272.
+
+     Dante, 185, 187.
+
+     Daubigny, 105, 317.
+
+     Daudet, Alphonse, 142, 316.
+
+     Daumier, 152, 302, 317.
+
+     David, 99, 101, 194, 195.
+
+     ---- Madame, 152.
+
+     ---- G., 95.
+
+     Da Vinci, Leonardo, 81-87, 318.
+
+     Death and the French, 95, 315.
+
+     Decamps, 103, 105.
+
+     Degas, 175.
+
+     Delacroix, 100, 104, 106, 178, 298, 316.
+
+     Delair, Frederic, 199-201.
+
+     Delaroche, 164.
+
+     Delibes, 226, 269.
+
+     De Musset, 56, 282, 316.
+
+     De Neuville, 177, 270.
+
+     Denis, Saint, 253.
+
+     Desmoulins, Camille, 171, 284, 285.
+
+     Devils of Notre Dame, 51, 52.
+
+     Dexter, Mr., as a tipster, 148.
+
+     ---- ---- his conception of Paris, 24.
+
+     Diaz, 105.
+
+     Dickens, Charles, 304.
+
+     Diderot and the pretty bookseller, 17.
+
+     Dobson, Mr. Austin, 15, 178, 184.
+
+     Dogs in Paris, 207-9.
+
+     ---- cemetery, the, 208, 209.
+
+     Donizetti, 226.
+
+     Dore, 303.
+
+     Dou, 93.
+
+     Drouot, Rue, 246, 247.
+
+     Dubois, 175, 193.
+
+     Duel, a famous, 300.
+
+     Dufayel, Maison, 264-66.
+
+     Dumas, Alexandre, 62, 93, 178, 300, 303, 304, 305.
+
+     ---- ---- fils, 24, 104.
+
+     Duncan, Isidora, 153.
+
+     Dupre, 106.
+
+     Duerer, 95.
+
+     Dutch School, the, 94, 95, 153.
+
+     Dutuit collection, 150, 153.
+
+
+     ECONOMY in Paris, 291, 292.
+
+     Eiffel Tower, the, 50.
+
+     Elizabeth, Madame, 216.
+
+     Elocutionist, the, 203.
+
+     Elysee, the, 276.
+
+     ---- de Montmartre, 272.
+
+     "Enfer," 270.
+
+     Enghien, 318.
+
+     English and French, 141, 227-40.
+
+     Estrees, Duchesse d', 158.
+
+     Etoile, Place de l', 142-45.
+
+     Eustache, Saint, 290.
+
+     Execution of Louis XVI., 134-37.
+
+     ---- ---- Robespierre, 138-40.
+
+     Eyck, J. van, 95.
+
+
+     FABRIANO, 96.
+
+     Fairs in Paris, 147, 153.
+
+     Falguiere, 161.
+
+     Fallieres, President, 252.
+
+     Fantin-Latour, 104, 176, 302, 317.
+
+     Faubourg Saint-Honore, Rue du, 276.
+
+     ---- Poissoniere, Rue du, 252.
+
+     Ferronnerie, Rue de la, 293.
+
+     Fete de St. Genevieve, 197.
+
+     Figuier, Rue, 297.
+
+     FitzGerald, Edward, quoted, 73, 282.
+
+     Flandrin, 163, 176.
+
+     Flinck, 93.
+
+     Flower markets, 218.
+
+     Fontainebleau, 318.
+
+     Fouquet, Jean, 318.
+
+     Fragonard, 99.
+
+     Francois I., 86, 87, 89, 248.
+
+     Francois-Miron, Rue, 297.
+
+     Francoise-Marguerite, 262.
+
+     Francs-Bourgeois, Rue des, 61, 68, 74.
+
+     Fremiet, 114, 153, 175, 179, 193, 205.
+
+     French, the, 29.
+
+     ---- and English, 141, 227-40.
+
+     ---- Revolution, 37-41, 116-21, 134-37, 138-40, 279-81, 284, 285,
+       307-11.
+
+
+     GALLAS, the, 206.
+
+     Gambetta monument, 126.
+
+     Gare de Lyon, 3.
+
+     ---- du Nord, 3, 209.
+
+     ---- St. Lazare, 3.
+
+     Garnier, Charles, 225.
+
+     Gautier, 270.
+
+     Genee, 270.
+
+     Genevieve, St., 188-92, 196, 197, 255.
+
+     Genlis, Madame de, 159.
+
+     Germain, Saint, 286-88.
+
+     Ghirlandaios, the, 90, 95.
+
+     Gibbon, 245.
+
+     Giotto, 90, 129.
+
+     Gladstone, 271, 302, 304.
+
+     Goat-herd, the, 292.
+
+     Gold and silver, 111.
+
+     _Golden Legend, The_, 57, 59, 189-91, 253-55, 289.
+
+     Goncourts, 270.
+
+     Goujon, Jean, 110.
+
+     Gounod, 143, 226.
+
+     Grand Cafe, 220.
+
+     Grandpre, Louise de, quoted, 35-37, 42-44.
+
+     Grands Boulevards, 218, 219.
+
+     Granie, 177.
+
+     Grenelle, Rue de, 158.
+
+     Greuze, 99.
+
+     Greve, Place de, 293.
+
+     Grevin, the Musee, 246.
+
+     Grolier, 247.
+
+     Gronow, Captain, quoted, 171-73.
+
+     Guides, 224.
+
+     Guillotine, the, 133-40.
+
+
+     HABENECK, 226.
+
+     Halevy, 270.
+
+     Halles, the, 290-92.
+
+     ---- des Vins, the, 201.
+
+     Hals, 95.
+
+     Haraucourt, M. Edmond, 183.
+
+     ---- ---- translated, 257.
+
+     Harpignies, 152, 176, 177.
+
+     Haussmann, Boulevard, 216, 247.
+
+     ---- Baron, 122, 123.
+
+     Heine, Henrich, 142, 194, 266-69.
+
+     Heloise, 52, 315.
+
+     Henley, W. E., 178.
+
+     Henner, 151, 302.
+
+     Henri II., 299.
+
+     ---- IV., 12, 13, 35, 112, 264, 278, 293, 294, 300.
+
+     Herold, 226.
+
+     Heyden, van der, 95, 98.
+
+     Hippodrome, 271.
+
+     His de la Salle collection, 80, 95, 101.
+
+     Hobbema, 95, 153.
+
+     Hoffbauer, 70.
+
+     Horloge, the, 22.
+
+     Hospital of the Trinity, 256.
+
+     Hotel de Ville, 294-96.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Rue de l', 296.
+
+     ----  ---- Sens, 296.
+
+     ---- des Monnaies, 167-69.
+
+     Houdon, 110.
+
+     Hugo, Victor, 25, 32, 48, 124, 153, 189, 298, 300-5.
+
+     ---- Georges, 302.
+
+     Huysmanns, quoted, 187.
+
+     Hyacinthe, Pere, 47.
+
+
+     ILE de la Cite, 9-30.
+
+     ---- St. Louis, the, 54-60.
+
+     Imprimerie Nationale, 68.
+
+     Ingres, 80, 95, 100, 163, 164.
+
+     Innocents, Square des, 293.
+
+     Institut, the, 166.
+
+     Invalides, Hotel des, 154-57.
+
+     Isabey, 106, 226.
+
+     Italiens, Boulevard des, 245, 273.
+
+
+     JABACH, 87.
+
+     Jacqueminot, Ignace, 195.
+
+     Jardin d'Acclimatation, 202, 205-7.
+
+     ---- des Plantes, 201-5.
+
+     Jena, 214.
+
+     Jeraud, 110.
+
+     Joan of Arc, 114, 153, 160, 193.
+
+     "Joconde, La," 81-87, 318.
+
+     Joke, the one, 29, 238, 275.
+
+     Joseph, Frere, 298.
+
+     Josephine, the Empress, 45, 158, 174.
+
+     Jouy, Rue de, 297.
+
+
+     KARBOWSKI, 152.
+
+     Key, sign of the, 162.
+
+
+     LABLACHE, 226.
+
+     Labouchere, Mr., quoted, 210-13.
+
+     Lachaise, Pere, 315-17.
+
+     Lafayette, 317.
+
+     ---- Rue, 277, 314.
+
+     Laffitte, Jacques, 245.
+
+     ---- Rue, 245.
+
+     La Fontaine, 315.
+
+     Lamartine, 303.
+
+     Lamb, Charles, 285, 286.
+
+     ---- Mary, 17.
+
+     Lancret, 99.
+
+     Landor quoted, 91.
+
+     Lang, Mr. Andrew, 178.
+
+     Latin Quarter, 179-81.
+
+     Latude, 71-73.
+
+     Lauder, Harry, 235.
+
+     Laurens, 295.
+
+     Law, John, 76.
+
+     Le Brun, 99.
+
+     Le Courtier, 175.
+
+     Lecouvreur, Adrienne, 158, 164.
+
+     Legros, 104, 175, 176.
+
+     Le Nain, 97.
+
+     Leno, Dan, 235.
+
+     Lepage, Bastien, 302.
+
+     Le Sidaner, 177.
+
+     Letter-boxes, 223.
+
+     Lippi, Fra Filippo, 90.
+
+     Lisle, Leconte de, 317.
+
+     Livry, Emma, 226.
+
+     Liszt, 226.
+
+     London and bookstalls, 14.
+
+     ---- ---- Paris, 14, 24, 27, 129, 146, 154, 201, 219, 227-40, 238,
+       249, 273, 290-92.
+
+     Longchamp, 146-49.
+
+     Lotto, 91.
+
+     Louis-Philippe, 121, 123, 140, 144, 312.
+
+     Louis, Saint, 10, 27, 35, 47, 56-60, 65, 180.
+
+     ---- XII., 248.
+
+     ---- XIII., 87, 300.
+
+     ---- XIV., 87, 297, 315.
+
+     ---- XV., 133, 188, 248.
+
+     ---- XVI., 36, 65, 115, 133, 215, 311.
+
+     ---- XVIII., 46, 125, 215.
+
+     Louvre, Musee du, 78-113.
+
+     Lowell, J. R., quoted, 85.
+
+     Loyola, 263.
+
+     Lucas the failure, 221.
+
+     Luini, 80, 88, 91.
+
+     Luxembourg, the, 173-79.
+
+     Luxor column, the, 132, 140.
+
+     Lyons mail, the, 296.
+
+
+     MADELEINE, the, 188, 214-18.
+
+     Mainardi, 90.
+
+     Malibran, 225.
+
+     Manet, 100, 104, 152, 176.
+
+     Mantegna, 91, 95.
+
+     Marais, the, 61-77.
+
+     Marat, 71, 195.
+
+     Marcel, Etienne, 295.
+
+     Marguery, 252.
+
+     Marie Antoinette, 20, 21, 71, 215, 216.
+
+     Marius, 221.
+
+     Marly le Roi, 318.
+
+     Martin, Saint, 257, 258.
+
+     Martyrs, Chambre de, 159.
+
+     ---- Rue des, 260.
+
+     Massacre of Swiss Guards, 115-21.
+
+     Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 23, 286.
+
+     Masse, Victor, 226.
+
+     Masson, Frederic, 246.
+
+     Maupassant, Guy de, 143.
+
+     Mazarin, 247, 297.
+
+     ---- Rue, 276.
+
+     Medals and their designers, 169.
+
+     Medicis, Catherine de, 115, 287, 288, 293, 299.
+
+     ---- fountain, the, 173.
+
+     ---- Marie de, 141, 294.
+
+     Meilhac, 270.
+
+     Meissonier, 106, 176.
+
+     Memling, 95, 99.
+
+     Meryon, Charles, 23, 24, 51, 303.
+
+     Messina, Antonello di, 91.
+
+     Metsu, 95.
+
+     Meudon, 318.
+
+     Meyerbeer, 226.
+
+     Mi-Careme, 217, 218, 273.
+
+     Michel, Georges, 70.
+
+     Michelet, 316.
+
+     Millet, 100, 103, 106.
+
+     Mint, the Paris, 167-69.
+
+     Mirabeau, 194, 245, 289.
+
+     Moliere, 60, 170, 282, 283, 297, 315.
+
+     Monceau, Parc, 142, 143, 314.
+
+     Monet, 175.
+
+     Money, bad, in Paris, 168.
+
+     Monnaies, Hotel de, 167-69.
+
+     "Monna Lisa," 81-87, 318.
+
+     Mont de Piete, the, 66.
+
+     ---- Parnasse, Cimetiere, 317.
+
+     ---- Valerien, 318.
+
+     Montesquieu, Rue, 286.
+
+     Montgomery, Captain, 294, 299.
+
+     Montmartre, 245, 254, 260-75.
+
+     Montorgeuil, Rue, 5, 250.
+
+     Moreau collection, 103.
+
+     ---- Musee, 261.
+
+     Morgue, the, 54, 55.
+
+     Mottez, 177.
+
+     Motto, Yama, 302.
+
+     Moulin-de-la-Galette, 272.
+
+     ---- Rouge, 271.
+
+     Moulins, Le Maitre de, 97.
+
+     Mousseaux, 226.
+
+     Murger, Henri, 178, 180, 270.
+
+     Murillo, 92.
+
+     Musee de l'Armee, 154-57.
+
+     ---- ---- Arts et Metiers, 258.
+
+     ---- Carnavalet, 61, 69-74.
+
+     ---- Cernuschi, 143.
+
+     ---- de Cluny, 181-84.
+
+     ---- du Conservatoire, 251.
+
+     ---- Grevin, 246.
+
+     ---- Guimet, 144.
+
+     ---- du Louvre, 78-113.
+
+     ---- de Luxembourg, 174-79.
+
+     ---- Moreau, 261.
+
+     ---- de l'Opera, 225, 226.
+
+     Musees des Jardin des Plantes, 204, 205.
+
+     Music in Paris, 289.
+
+     ---- Hall, the, in Paris, 234, 235.
+
+     Musical trophies, 225, 226, 251.
+
+     Musset, Alfred de, 56, 282, 316.
+
+     Mystery plays, 256.
+
+
+     NAPOLEON and the Arc de Triomphe, 144.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- end of the Revolution, 279-81.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Madeleine, 214.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Old Guard, 318.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Pantheon, 188.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- statue of Henri IV., 13.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Vendome column, 278.
+
+     ---- at St. Sulpice, 163.
+
+     ---- his coronation, 44-46.
+
+     ---- ---- early palaces, 174.
+
+     ---- ---- interest in art, 112, 113.
+
+     ---- ---- iron bridge, 166.
+
+     ---- ---- relics, 154-57.
+
+     ---- ---- second funeral, 157.
+
+     ---- ---- tomb, 157.
+
+     ---- ---- two Arcs, 124, 125, 126.
+
+     ---- in two pictures, 101.
+
+     ---- meets Josephine, 246.
+
+     ---- relics at the Carnavalet, 73.
+
+     ---- III., 46, 122, 123.
+
+     ---- ---- rebuilds Paris, 122.
+
+     Neant, Cabaret de, 270.
+
+     Necker, 245.
+
+     Newspapers in France, 27-30.
+
+     New Year's Eve, 273.
+
+     New York, 129.
+
+     Ney, 316.
+
+     Night cafes, 273-75.
+
+     Nodier, Charles, on the book-hunter, 18.
+
+     Notre Dame, 11, 26, 31-53.
+
+
+     OFFENBACH, 269.
+
+     Olivier, Pere, 46.
+
+     Olympia Taverne, 220.
+
+     Opera, the, 48, 225.
+
+     Ostade, 98.
+
+
+     PAGANINI, 225, 251.
+
+     Pailleron, 143.
+
+     Painting, modern, 149.
+
+     Paix, Cafe de la, 227-43.
+
+     ---- Rue de la, 277.
+
+     Palais de Justice, the, 24-26.
+
+     ---- des Beaux-Arts, 150, 164, 165.
+
+     ---- Royal, the, 283.
+
+     Palma, 91.
+
+     Pantheon, the, 188-96.
+
+     Pari-Mutuel, the, 147, 148.
+
+     Paris and balloons, 51.
+
+     ---- ---- beggars, 263.
+
+     ---- ---- Christianity, 190.
+
+     ---- ---- economy, 291, 292.
+
+     ---- ---- its aristocratic quarters, 62, 158.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- billiard saloons, 220-22.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- bird's-eye views, 145.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- cemeteries, 315-17.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- civic museums, 69-74.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- clocks, 22.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- dogs, 207-9.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- early history, 9, 10.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- fickleness, 216, 245.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- flats, 162.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Mint, 167-69.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- mobs, 32.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- newspapers, 27-30.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- restaurants, 7.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Royal Academy Schools, 164, 165.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- royal palaces, 11.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Salons, 149.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- sculpture, 126, 127.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- stations, 1, 2.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- statuary, 178.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- two Zoos, 201.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- views, 196, 264.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- waiters, 238.
+
+     ---- ---- late hours, 273.
+
+     ---- ---- London, 14, 24, 27, 154, 201, 219, 227-40, 238, 249,
+       273, 290-92.
+
+     ---- ---- the play, 28.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- post, 223, 224.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- ship, 48.
+
+     ---- as Meryon saw it, 23, 24.
+
+     ---- fairs, 153.
+
+     ---- from Notre Dame, 11, 48, 49.
+
+     ---- ---- the Eiffel Tower, 50, 51.
+
+     ---- in the small hours, 273-75.
+
+     ---- pleasure of entering, 1-4.
+
+     ---- under siege, 209-13.
+
+     Parisian, the, his provinciality, 130.
+
+     Pascal, 198, 247, 293.
+
+     Passy, Cimetiere de, 317.
+
+     Pasteur, 160.
+
+     Pater, Walter, quoted, 82-84.
+
+     Pawning in Paris, 66.
+
+     Peacocks, the, 202-4.
+
+     Pere Lachaise, 264, 315-17.
+
+     ---- Lunette, Le, 173.
+
+     Perugino, 91.
+
+     Picard, 177.
+
+     Picpus, Cimetiere de, 317.
+
+     Pigalle, Rue, 110, 260.
+
+     Pinaigriers, the, 198.
+
+     Planquette, 316.
+
+     Pointelin, 152.
+
+     Pol, Henri, 90, 127-30.
+
+     Police of Paris, the, 19, 240.
+
+     Pompadour, Madame la, 283.
+
+     Pompeii, treasures of, 110, 111.
+
+     Pompes Funebres, 251.
+
+     Pont au Change, the, 22.
+
+     ---- Alexandre III., 153.
+
+     ---- de la Concorde, 307.
+
+     ---- Neuf, 12.
+
+     Porte Maillot, 149.
+
+     ---- St. Denis, 253-56.
+
+     ---- St. Martin, 256.
+
+     Post, the, in Paris, 223, 224.
+
+     Pot, 153.
+
+     Potter, 95.
+
+     Poussin, 91, 98.
+
+     Prefecture de Police, the, 18.
+
+     Print shops, 170.
+
+     Procope, Cafe, 171.
+
+     Prud'hon, 70
+
+     Puget, 110.
+
+
+     QUAI des Celestins, 60.
+
+     Quasimodo, 25, 48.
+
+     Quatre-Septembre, Rue du, 277.
+
+
+     RABELAIS, 297, 298.
+
+     Rachel, 301, 317.
+
+     Racine, 198.
+
+     Raeburn, 92.
+
+     Ramly, 110.
+
+     Raphael, 87, 88, 91, 92, 102, 318.
+
+     Ravaillac, 293, 294.
+
+     Reason, Goddess of, 39, 41.
+
+     ---- the Cult of, 37-41.
+
+     Reaumur, Rue, 277.
+
+     Recamier, Madame, 101, 159, 160,245.
+
+     Religion advertised, 252.
+
+     Rembrandt, 91, 92, 93, 151, 248.
+
+     Renan, 270.
+
+     Renaudon, 27.
+
+     Renoir, 175.
+
+     Republic, Third, 124.
+
+     Republican palace, a, 294.
+
+     Republics in statuary, 259.
+
+     Republique, Place de la, 259.
+
+     Restaurants, 6-8, 147, 173, 199-201, 244, 252, 286.
+
+     Restoration, the, 123-25.
+
+     Reveillon, 244, 273.
+
+     Revolution, the, 33, 65, 71, 87, 113, 133-39, 178, 246, 259,
+       279, 281, 284, 285, 289, 300, 307-11.
+
+     ---- of 1830, 296, 311, 312.
+
+     Revue, the, 235, 236.
+
+     Richelieu, 181, 284, 298, 300.
+
+     ---- Rue de, 247, 282, 283.
+
+     Riding schools, 206.
+
+     Rivoli, Rue de, 277.
+
+     Robespierre, 138-40, 278.
+
+     Robinson, 318.
+
+     Rochefoucauld, Rue, 260.
+
+     Rodin, 174, 175, 177, 195.
+
+     Roland, Madame, 18, 71, 245.
+
+     Roman remains in Paris, 8, 31, 182, 187.
+
+     Romney, 99.
+
+     Rossini, 225, 226.
+
+     Rothschild collection, 111.
+
+     Rougemont, Cite, 251.
+
+     Rousseau, J. J., 106, 193.
+
+     Rubens, 91, 93, 94, 95.
+
+     Rude, 110.
+
+     Ruggieri, 289.
+
+     Ruisdael, 95, 152.
+
+
+     SACRE-COEUR, the, 245, 262.
+
+     St. Antoine, Rue, 297-99.
+
+     ---- Bartholomew, Massacre of, 23, 286.
+
+     ---- Cloud, 318.
+
+     ---- Denis, 189, 215, 318.
+
+     ---- ---- Rue, 255, 256.
+
+     ---- Dominic, 47.
+
+     ---- Francis, 129.
+
+     ---- Genevieve, 188-92, 196, 197, 255.
+
+     ---- Germain, 189.
+
+     ---- Honore, Rue, 277-86.
+
+     ---- Martin Priory, 257.
+
+     ---- ---- Rue, 76, 257.
+
+     ---- Merry, 75.
+
+     ---- Peter, 75.
+
+     Sainte-Beuve, 317.
+
+     ---- Chapelle, 26, 27.
+
+     Saints-Peres, Rue, 159, 276.
+
+     ---- the mothers of, 190.
+
+     Salis, Rodolphe, 271.
+
+     Salons, the, 149.
+
+     Samson, the headman, 137, 139.
+
+     Sand, George, 178, 303.
+
+     Sargent, 152.
+
+     Sarto, Andrea del, 91.
+
+     Scheffer, 100.
+
+     Scribe, 317.
+
+     Sculpture in Paris, 78, 106-10, 126, 127, 178, 259.
+
+     Seine, the, 14.
+
+     Sens, Hotel de, 296.
+
+     Sevigne, Madame de, 73, 301.
+
+     Sevres, 318.
+
+     Sewers, the, 312.
+
+     Shaftesbury Avenue, 277.
+
+     Shaw, Mr. Bernard, 166.
+
+     Sicard, the Abbe, 178.
+
+     Siege of 1870, the, 210-13.
+
+     Sisley, 152, 175.
+
+     Soitoux, 259.
+
+     Solario, 91.
+
+     Sorbonne, the, 179-81.
+
+     Steinlen, 152, 176, 271, 302.
+
+     Sterne, Laurence, 16, 163.
+
+     Stockbrokers in Paris, 249.
+
+     Stoppeur, the, 162.
+
+     Street life in Paris, 236-43.
+
+     Streets, favourite, 250, 276, 277.
+
+     Student life, 180.
+
+     Suresnes, 149.
+
+     Swiss Guards, 115-21, 216.
+
+
+     TABARIN, Bal, 272.
+
+     Tailors, political, 249.
+
+     Talma, 316.
+
+     Temple, the, 63.
+
+     Tennyson, 304.
+
+     Terburg, 95, 102, 153.
+
+     Terra-cottas, 110.
+
+     Thackeray, 157, 294, 304.
+
+     Thames, the, 14.
+
+     Thaulow, 177.
+
+     Theatre, the first, 256.
+
+     ---- the, in Paris, 232-34.
+
+     Theatres, 28, 282.
+
+     Themines, the Marquis de, 200.
+
+     Thiers, 317.
+
+     ---- collection, 102.
+
+     Thomas, Ambroise, 143, 269.
+
+     Thomy-Thierret collection, 105, 106.
+
+     Tiber, the, 109.
+
+     Tintoretto, 89, 91.
+
+     Tissot, 177.
+
+     Titian, 88, 89, 91.
+
+     Tortoni, Cafe, 171-73.
+
+     Tour d'Argent, the, 199-201.
+
+     ---- Saint-Jacques, 293.
+
+     Traffic, 240.
+
+     Trajan, 290.
+
+     Triomphe, Arc de, 114, 142-45, 302.
+
+     _Tristan und Isolde_, 292.
+
+     Troyon, 70, 105, 106.
+
+     Tuileries, the, 114-31.
+
+
+     UCCELLO, 90.
+
+     Uzanne, Octave, on the booksellers, 15, 16.
+
+
+     VALOIS, Rue, 285.
+
+     Van de Velde, 153.
+
+     ---- Dyck, 94.
+
+     Vasari, quoted, 85, 86.
+
+     Veber, 152.
+
+     Velasquez, 88, 101.
+
+     Vendome, Place, 277, 278.
+
+     Venus of Milo, 107.
+
+     Verdi, 226.
+
+     Vermeer, 95.
+
+     Veronese, 88, 89.
+
+     Versailles, 318.
+
+     Vestris, 226.
+
+     Viarmes, Rue de, 288.
+
+     Victor Hugo, Avenue de, 305.
+
+     Vierge, 152, 302.
+
+     Views in Paris, 11, 48-50, 145, 196, 262.
+
+     Villebresme, Vicomte de, 297.
+
+     Ville d'Avray, 318.
+
+     ---- Hotel de, 294-96.
+
+     ---- ---- ---- Rue de l', 296.
+
+     Vincennes, 318.
+
+     Vinci, 81-87, 95, 318.
+
+     Virgin, the, and the Bird, 42-44.
+
+     Voisin's, 7.
+
+     Vollon, 70, 177.
+
+     Volney, Rue, 252.
+
+     Voltaire, 71, 166, 194, 195.
+
+     Vosges, Place des, 299.
+
+
+     WAITERS, 238.
+
+     Wallace, Sir Richard, 146.
+
+     Watteau, 70, 95, 99, 178.
+
+     Waxworks in Paris, 246.
+
+     Weenix, 98.
+
+     Weerts, 181.
+
+     Weyden, Roger van der, 95.
+
+     Whiff of Grapeshot, the, 279-81.
+
+     Whistler, 104, 177.
+
+     Wiertz, 261.
+
+     Willette, 271, 272.
+
+     Winged Victory, 78, 79, 87.
+
+     Women in Paris, 219, 239, 291.
+
+
+     ZIEM, 151.
+
+     Zola, 194, 315.
+
+     Zurbaran, 92.
+
+
+
+
+ABERDEEN: THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
+
+
+
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