The history of Notre-Dame is in a great measure the history of France. It was there that the Te Deum was sung after successful battles, and where the standards which were taken from the enemy were suspended during the continuance of the wars. There, too, in the early part of the 13th century, S. Dominic preached from a book given him by the Blessed Virgin, who appeared to the Saint after an hour's silent meditation, radiant with beauty, and dazzling as the sunlight. Some fifty years ago, the cathedral, and, indeed, all Paris, was stirred by the conférences held there by one of S. Dominic's own children, Père Lacordaire, who, with his friends Lamennais and Montalembert, made an effort to free the Roman branch of the Catholic Church from the fungi which had grown on to it, an effort which was as fruitless as that undertaken by his predecessor Savonarola, 400 years before him.
NOTRE-DAME AT SUNSET.
NOTRE-DAME AT SUNSET.
On Easter Eve, the 12th April, 1229, the Count of Toulouse, Raymond VII., was absolved of the crime of heresy in Notre-Dame. As the old chronicler Guillaume de Puylaurens relates: "Et c'était pitié de voir un si grand homme, lequel par si long espace de temps avait pu résister à tant et de si fortes nations, conduit nu, en chemise, bras et pieds découverts, jusqu'à l'autel."
Here is a pleasant little example of some of the doings of the "good old times": Pierre Bonfons tells us that in 1381 the prévôt of Paris, one Hugues Aubriot, accused and found guilty of heresy and other crimes, was, through the instrumentality of the University, "presché et mitré publiquement au Parvis-Notre-Dame, et après ce, condamné à être en l'oubliette au pain et à l'eau."
On the 27th November, 1431,[107] the child, Henry VI. of England, was crowned King of France in the choir of the cathedral. But the pomp of this ceremony was soon effaced, for, on the Friday in Easter week, 1436, a Te Deum was sung to celebrate the retaking of Paris by the troops of Charles VII.
In the 13th century the Feast of the Assumption was celebrated with great pomp; the whole church was hung with valuable tapestries, and the pavement covered with sweet-smelling flowers and herbs; but two centuries later, grass from the fields of Gentilly seems to have sufficed to do honour to Our Lady on her fête day.
The same custom prevailed here as at the Sainte-Chapelle and other churches, of letting fly pigeons, and throwing flowers and torches of flaming flax from the windows in celebration of the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost; and every year, on the 22nd March, the chapter went in procession to the church of the Grands-Augustins, where a mass was sung in memory of Henri IV.'s entry into Paris in 1594.
PIERRE DE FAYET.
PIERRE DE FAYET.
The original design of the church did not comprise the chapels which flank the nave and somewhat spoil the effect of the exterior. In this respect, the cathedral of Paris cannot be compared to those of Reims and Chartres, which have no chapels between the buttresses. They were added to Notre-Dame in 1270, Jean de Paris, archdeacon of Soissons, having bequeathed 100 livres for their construction. The chapels of the chevet were finished at the end of the 13th or beginning of the 14th century. An inscription at the entrance of one of them, S. Nicaise, placed upon the pedestal of a statue of Simon Matiffas de Buci, recorded that this chapel and the two next were founded by the bishop in 1296, and that the others were added subsequently. This precious relic was discovered at S. Denis among a number of others from different churches. One of these gives the name of Canon Pierre de Fayet[108] as the donor of 200 livres towards the histoires which surround the choir, and some new glass; and another gives the names of the sculptors of these same histoires, the Masters Jean Ravy and Jean le Bouteiller, who carved them in 1351. It must be remembered that the great churches of the Middle Ages were more the work of the people than of the nobility, and thus we find that the armorial bearings upon old glass or upon the pedestals of statues are mostly those of the different trades-guilds, such as the bakers, the butchers, the woollen-drapers, the furriers, the shoemakers, and the like. These, either as individuals or as corporate bodies, enriched the old churches in money or in kind.
It must not be forgotten that the great churches of the Middle Ages were, in a sense, the schools of the period. The people, not being able to read, were instructed through the medium of sermons and stage plays; they saw the histories of Saints, the story of the Gospel, and legendary and historical matter carved in wood or stone upon all sides of them, and they learnt their moralities by picture tales and clerical discourses. Art was literally the handmaid of Religion, and the great teacher; and being enriched by divers gifts, the churches became receptacles for all kinds of treasures. Guillaume Durand, in his Rational des Divins Offices, speaks of rare things, such as stuffed crocodiles, ostrich eggs, and skeletons of whales, besides gold and silver vessels, intagli, and cameii, as attractions for the people, on the principle that he who comes to see may stay to pray. Churches were, in fact, museums, and places in which to transact business; the naves constantly being thus used.
Notre-Dame has two towers at the west end, and a flèche over the intersection of the nave, choir and transepts. This is modern; and why? Because, in 1787, an architect was found who considered it well to "amputate" the old one. Listen to Victor Hugo: "Un architect de bon gout l'a amputé, et a cru qu'il suffisait de masquer la plaie avec ce large emplâtre de plomb, qui ressemble au couvercle d'une marmite"—doubtless that strange species of turret so common in London, familiarly termed a pepper-box.
The western façade, though not so rich as that of Reims, is nevertheless exceedingly beautiful. It is divided into three parts in its width, and into four stories in its elevation.
Here is what our old friend Dibden says of it in his time: "Of Notre-Dame, the West front, with its marygold windows, is striking both from its antiquity and richness. It is almost black from age" (would it were so now!)—"but the alto-relievos, and especially those above the doors, stand out in almost perfect condition. These ornaments are rather fine of their kind. There is, throughout the whole of this West front, a beautiful keeping, and the towers are here somewhat more endurable, and therefore somewhat in harmony. Over the North transept door, on the outside, is a figure of the Virgin—once holding the infant Jesus in her arms. Of the latter only the feet remain. The drapery of this figure is in perfectly good taste, a fine specimen of that excellent art which prevailed towards the end of the XIIIth century. Above is an alto-relievo subject of the Slaughter of the Innocents. The soldiers are in quilted armour. I entered the cathedral from the Western door, during service-time. A sight of the different clergymen engaged in the office filled me with melancholy, and made me predict sad things of what was probably to come to pass! These clergymen were old, feeble, wretchedly attired in their respective vestments, and walked and sung in a tremulous and faltering manner. The architectural effect of the interior is not very imposing, although the solid circular pillars of the nave, the double aisles round the choir, and the old basso-relievo representations of the Life of Christ upon the exterior walls of the choir, cannot fail to afford the antiquary very singular satisfaction. The choir appeared to be not unlike that of S. Denis." Notre-Dame should be visited by lovers of plain song. To hear forty men and boys chant Gregorian tones, with ad libitum accompaniments upon a small organ, is a treat not to be forgotten. And note, the small organ, for the large one at the end of the nave is only used for voluntaries; thundering accompaniments to the voices being unknown in Paris.
NOTRE-DAME DURING SERMON.
NOTRE-DAME DURING SERMON.
All the six doors of Notre-Dame bear distinctive names—the Porte du Jugement, the Porte de la Vierge, and the Porte Ste. Anne, at the west end; the Porte du Cloître, the Porte St. Marcel and the Porte Rouge, at the east end. Each of these is divided into two openings by a central pier, supporting a figure and surmounted by a tympanum; over which is a deep voussure, peopled with sculptures innumerable. Tradition formerly recorded a flight of thirteen steps rising to the west front; but the excavations made in 1847 proved this to have been a mistake. If steps existed anywhere, they were probably on the side of the episcopal palace near the southern tower and leading down to the river. At the same time there is no doubt that the church would gain in effect were it raised above the roadway as is the case at Amiens. At present it is even a little lower than the place, but allowing for the rising of the ground during seven centuries, it is quite possible that the cathedral originally had not the sunken appearance it has at present. In the niches upon the great buttress are tour figures; S. Denis and S. Étienne at the extremities, and two women crowned in the centre. These represent a very common conceit of the Middle Ages, the Church and the Synagogue, the one triumphant, the other defeated.
Above the portals is the gallery of the Kings of Judah, the ancestors of the Virgin, and perhaps typical of the sovereigns of France. The gallery of the Virgin is still higher, and upon it in the centre stands the queen of Heaven with attendant Angels, Adam and Eve being above the side doors. Higher still we come to the tower galleries presided over by delightful monsters of various zoological tribes. Nothing gives a visitor to Notre-Dame a better notion of the richness of its sculptures than mounting to this gallery, whence he obtains a full view of the roof and the towers, with their numerous pinnacles, crockets, finials, gargoyles and statues.
Unfortunately the great central portal was hopelessly wrecked by Soufflot in 1771 in order to increase its width for processions; it is one of the many examples which prove the fact that the "stupidity of man" has done more harm to old buildings than time or even disastrous riots and revolutions. In 1773 and 1787, so-called restorations, by architects who ought to have known better, still further mutilated the church.
THE ROOF AND FLÈCHE.
THE ROOF AND FLÈCHE.
ANIMALS ON ONE OF THE TOWERS.
ANIMALS ON ONE OF THE TOWERS.
Listen to Victor Hugo once more: "Il est difficile de ne pas soupirer, de ne pas s'indigner devant les dégradations, les mutilations sans nombre, que simultanément le temps et les hommes ont fait subir au vénérable monument, sans respect pour Charlemagne, qui en avait posé la première pierre, pour Philippe-Auguste, qui en avait posé la dernière. Sur la face de cette vieille reine de nos cathédrales, à côté d'un vide on trouve toujours une cicatrice. Tempus edax homo edacior: le temps est aveugle, l'homme est stupide." Sixty years have passed since this was written, but the great poet lived to see a restoration which he probably sighed over as much as over the mutilations of former times. Viollet-le-Duc did his work better than most restorers; but of the old church nothing remains but the shell—even the surface of the stone has been scraped and scrubbed, giving the building as new an appearance as that of the churches of S. Augustin and La Trinité. Hugo's words in 1832, directed against the architects of Louis XIV. and Louis XV., apply equally to those of our time: "Si nous avions le loisir d'examiner une à une avec le lecteur les diverses traces de destruction imprimée à l'antique église, la part du temps serait la moindre, la pire celles des hommes, surtout des hommes de l'art." The great destruction occurred between 1699 and 1753. Louis XIV., the great destroyer of men and of their works, in order to carry out the "Vœu de Louis XIII.", made away with the old carved stalls, the jubé, the cloisters, the high altar with its numerous châsses and reliquaries, its bronze columns and silver and gold statuettes, the tombs, and the stained glass. In 1771, the statues above the great west doors disappeared when Soufflot began his evil work of widening them. Another great loss to the church was the destruction of the statue of S. Christopher, a huge colossal figure as celebrated in the Middle Ages as the relics of the Sainte-Chapelle. It stood at the entrance of the nave, and was the work of Messire Antoine des Essarts in 1443, in gratitude to the saintly giant for having saved him from the Burgundians. Miracle-working Virgins, Philippe-Auguste posing as S. Simon Stylites, and two bishops of Paris, likewise upon columns, were amongst some of the former treasures. Whether three great figures in wax of Gregory XI., his niece, and nephew, which tumbled into decay in 1599, are equally to be regretted, is doubtful; but the description of an equestrian statue which stood in the nave, the man in armour, and the horse in emblazoned trappings, sounds fascinating. It was a Louis VI., or a Philippe le Bel—who knows? Perhaps the latter, erected as a thank offering to Our Lady for the victory at Mons, for Philippe founded solemn commemorations of that battle at Notre-Dame, at Chartres, and at S. Denis. But in spite of this evidence, Père Montfaucon pronounced in favour of Philippe de Valois, who rode into the church equipped and armed to give thanks for the victory of Cassel, and fulfil a vow made in front of the enemy. This same Philippe's effigy also rode a stone horse upon the façade of the Cathedral of Sens.
Du Breuil cites some quaint verses explaining the dimensions of the church, which were written upon a picture hanging near the statue of S. Christopher by the doorway:
When the revolutionary period began, little remained to be done in the way of destruction, but that little the votaries of Reason did pretty well as regards everything pertaining unto royalty; for to be just, we must remember that anything that could be construed into philosophy or art was spared. In August, 1793, it was decided that eight days should be allowed for the destruction of the "gothiques simulacres" of the kings upon the portals. Later on the Saints were ordered to share the same fate, but Citizen Chaumette, as we have seen, stepped in and saved the sculpture by assuring his colleagues that the astronomer Dupuis had discovered his planetary system on one of the portals. Thereupon the Citoyen Dupuis was put upon the council for the preservation of public buildings, and in consequence much was saved from complete and hopeless destruction. We all know how a goddess of the class so dear to the kings of old, a vulgar Gabrielle or Pompadour in sabots and a Phrygian cap, was set upon the altar and worshipped in derision, a ceremony followed by others that "we leave under a veil which appropriately stretches itself along the pillars of the aisles—not to be lifted aside by the hand of history."[110] Robespierre and his friends must have been utterly wanting in a sense of humour, or they never would have instituted these curious ceremonies. In an old print[111] representing the great Feast of the Supreme Being upon the Champ de Mars, we see the President of the Convention in a fine blue coat, and bearing an enormous bouquet of flowers, discoursing to the multitude; and, after burning the statue of Atheism, sticking up Wisdom in its place. Young girls in the inevitable white of church processions, beadles, and singing men, with all the paraphernalia of the dethroned ecclesiastical pomp, are depicted: but only one man seems to have seen how ludicrous it all was: "Tu commence à nous ennuyer avec ton Être Suprême!" said he to Robespierre, somewhat profanely.
The prelates and sovereigns who succeeded to these stormy days endeavoured to restore Notre-Dame; but the ignorance which prevailed at the commencement of the present century with regard to Gothic architecture rather added to the destruction than mended it; and it was not until the Christian art and Liberal Catholic revivals led by Montalembert and his friends that a thorough and rational restoration of the church was commenced by the eminent architects, Viollet-le-Duc and Lassus.
The central portal is a mass of wonderful sculpture. The lower part of the stylobate bears lozenge-shapen compartments enclosing roses and lilies. Above this are the Virtues and Vices,[112] the former being figures of women bearing their emblems; the latter, little scenes describing each particular vice. It is interesting to see that the Virtues should be portrayed as women, Guillaume Durand giving the reason that they are men's nursing mothers; but Eve, having been supposed from all time to have been man's temptress, how comes it that the Mediæval sculptors exempted her and all other women from personifying the vice, for example, of curiosity? Courage our first mother undoubtedly had, and so this virtue on the front of Notre-Dame is represented by a woman with a shield bearing a lion. Equally certain is it that Adam was mean and cowardly, and so we find Cowardice painted as a man running away terror-stricken from a harmless hare. Amongst the vicious we see Judas in despair, an iniquitous Nero, an impious Mahomet, and a funny little Nimroud throwing a javelin at the sun, symbolic of that great warrior's attempt to build a high tower in order to attack Heaven itself.
Above the Virtues and Vices are the Twelve Apostles, placed over the Virtue which in their lives they especially displayed. Nothing in these sculptures was done without a purpose; thus S. Paul stands over Courage, and S. Peter above Faith; indeed the whole doorway was designed to carry out a particular idea, and to illustrate the main doctrines of Christ, whose statue stands upon the central pier, giving the benediction to all who enter.
On each side of the doorway are the Wise and Foolish Virgins, and in the tympanum, which is divided into three zones, is the Resurrection of the Dead. Souls are being weighed; and under one scale a mean little demon may be seen pulling it down with a hook, in case the poor soul's sins should not be sufficient to weigh it down. It may be noted that the Mediæval theologians evidently considered the nails which pierced our Blessed Lord's body of more honour than the tree unto which he was bound; for here we see an Angel holding the cross with bare hands, while another envelopes the nails in a napkin. In the Voussure are rows of personages; the lower ones belonging to the Judgment, the upper ones to the Resurrection. Then come the Angels, Prophets, and Doctors of the church (taking precedence at Notre-Dame of the Martyrs, by reason of Paris being a great seat of learning). Following them are the Martyrs and Virgins.
Didron[113] gives an account by an Armenian bishop of a visit to Paris in 1489-96, in which he describes these sculptures exactly as they now appear, and speaks of the beauty of their colouring and gilding.
The sculptures of the other two doors are of the same character as the Porte du Jugement, but the subjects are taken severally from the histories of the Blessed Virgin and of S. Anne. In the Porte de la Vierge, the Mother and Child hold the central place, and in the tympanum are the Assumption and the Glorification of the Virgin. In the stylobate are saints, a conspicuous one being S. Denis carrying his head, with Angels upon each side, to prevent anyone damaging his headless body. In the bas-reliefs, amongst other subjects is an almanac in stone representing the earth and the sea, the twelve signs of the Zodiac, and the occupations, mostly agricultural, of each of the months. Corresponding to these are the idlings of the season. The industrious man is warming himself by the side of his well-cured hams and sausages; the idle man is sitting enveloped in fur, enjoying a sleep by the fire. For April we see a personage with two heads, one asleep and one awake; and, showing that the climate was much the same in the 13th century as it is now, we see one side of him clad in the airy costume of our first parents, while the other is well wrapped up in warm raiment. May only wears pyjamas, while June prepares for a bath. The signs of the Zodiac follow the ecclesiastical year, which up to the reign of Charles IX. commenced at Easter. The custom of carving them on the exterior of churches is a very ancient practice, as it may be seen on the Catholicon at Athens, which is as old or older than the time of Justinian. Nearly all the great churches of France possess them. On S. Denis there are three: one is mosaic; another, a bas-relief on the exterior; and the third, an incised stone upon the pavement of one of the apsidal chapels.
The Porte S. Anne is the oldest of the three portals, and the sculptures being the most ancient of the church, it has been assumed that they were brought from an older edifice. The central figure is S. Marcel, ninth bishop of Paris, who died in 436. He is here seen standing upon a strange and venomous beast with a tail ending serpent-wise, issuing from a winding sheet—the vestment of an unfortunate rich and wicked woman whom the beast had consumed in punishment for her vices. Marcel, in spite of this just retribution, seems to have pitied the poor soul, and went forth to the forest to reprove the dragon; who, listening to the holy man's words, became repentant and showed his contrition by bending his head and flopping after the Saint for the space of three miles, wagging his tail like a dog. But S. Marcel could not forgive him. "Go forth," said the Saint, "and inhabit the deserts, or plunge thyself into the sea"; which he seems to have done, for no more was ever heard of the monster from that day forth.
The tympanum is ornamented with the History of Joachim and Anna, the Marriage of the Virgin and the Budding of S. Joseph's staff. Angels and a kneeling king complete the composition; the latter probably being Louis VII., the friend of Suger and the father of Philippe-Auguste, as he is presenting a charter of donations and privileges. On the other side is a bishop, bearded, mitred, and vested, but unlike the king, the prelate stands; he is probably the builder, Maurice de Sully. The older part of this doorway is similar in some respects to the façade of S. Denis. Abbot Suger, its builder, had only been dead about ten years when Maurice de Sully reconstructed the cathedral; and we see in the figures upon the Porte S. Anne the same Romanesque character as at S. Denis.
The beautiful ironwork of the doors of Notre-Dame are worthy their reputed origin; they are said to have been finished in a single night by his Satanic Majesty in consequence of the dilatoriness of Biscornette the blacksmith. The legend has probably grown from the design of a part of the ironwork, a little man with horns and the tail of a fish, who sits upon the branch of a tree. It appears that Biscornette was charged to forge the ironwork of the doors in a given time; but finding himself behind-hand in his work, he determined to call in the aid of the Devil. This personage arrived, put on the leathern apron, and set to work so vigorously that by dawn it was finished. Biscornette thanked his assistant, who politely, in recognition of the blacksmith's gratitude, presented him with his horns. Popular opinion always held that Biscornette could not forge the central door by which the Blessed Sacrament passed; and that a curse rested upon that of S. Anne, as it was never opened; but in these latter faithless days it has been found to do so as easily as the others. The sculptures of the tympanum of the Porte du Cloître represent the Legend of S. Theophilus, the deacon, who lived in the 3rd century. This Saint was troubled in his mind, and abjured Christianity through the instrumentality of a Jew; thereupon he fell into the hands of the Father of Lies, and we see him on his knees between the hoofs of the demon. But he was reinstated in the good books of his bishop, in spite of the tempting whisperings of a little demon by his side. Then the Virgin enters upon the scene, and tears up the contract signed by S. Theophilus with his blood; and the demon enraged has the impertinence to seize the raiment of the Virgin, in order to profane her. But Theophilus is forgiven, and the bishop displays the contract, which is now hallowed by the episcopal seal, and upon which is written in Gothic letters: Carta Theophili.
At the foot of the Southern façade is the inscription which gives the name of the architect and the date of the church:
John de Chelles was wise in his generation, for had he not thus taken care of his own reputation, we should have known nothing about him, there being no record of any other works by him. Chelles, the place of his birth, was celebrated for the abbey founded by S. Bathilde; and like Montereau, Bonneuil, and Lusarches, which gave birth to some of the most famous architects of the 13th century, it was situated in the diocese of Paris. The beautiful little Porte Rouge is of the end of the 13th century. In the tympanum a king and queen are represented kneeling at each side of our Lord and His Mother, very probably S. Louis, and his wife, Marguerite de Provence.
Formerly, in front of the grand portals there was a pillory, described by Père Du Breuil in the 16th century as raised upon a platform. The culprit knelt upon this with a paper, stating his offence, affixed to him; and then he stayed longtemps mocqué et injurié du peuple. Du Breuil lamented that this object of the spiritual justice and power was no longer to be seen at the abbey of S. Germain.
LA PORTE ROUGE.
LA PORTE ROUGE.
The interior of Notre-Dame is imposing, though somewhat heavy in character; and although the nave and choir were sixty years in construction, there is scarcely any difference in style, except in the details. There is a certain clumsiness about the great round shafts of the nave, but the carving upon the angles of the plinths and of the capitals helps to relieve this effect. Most of the capitals are ornamented with examples of the flora of Parisian fields. At the west end is a gallery now occupied by the great organ, but which formerly was the stage upon which miracle-plays were performed. The choir is by far the most beautiful part of the church; and being filled with stained glass, it has not that painfully cleaned-up appearance which is the result of over-restoration. Some parts of it, the bays which separate the side-aisles from the crossings, are of the 14th century; and the little Angels blowing trumpets which surmount the archivolt are beautiful specimens of sculpture of that period. The capitals of some of the choir columns being the oldest in the church (the early part of the 12th century) are very rich in the quaint style of decoration delighted in by Mediæval artists—masses of foliage, with heads of grotesque animals peeping out, and biting off the leaves and flowers. One capital (between the seventh and eighth southern chapels) is interesting as showing the transition between the use of personages and animals, and that of foliage only, which was customary in the later period. The subject is very unecclesiastical, as was so often the case in the 12th and 13th centuries—two Harpies, male and female, with human heads and bird bodies, issuing out of the foliage. Much of this is treated in the most realistic manner, and we find specimens of the oak, the ivy and the trefoil.
In many of the chapels are double piscinæ. From one, the water in which the priest washes his hands before mass, is ejected by a pipe; from the other, used after mass, the water descends into the ground. They are both ornamented with carved canopies.
The Lady chapel, or chapel of the Compassion, and the two on either side, are painted and gilded, a good deal of the old colouring having survived as a guide. There is some good carving, and in front of the tabernacle hang seven lamps of elegant design. These, added to the beauty of the old stained glass, make this end of the church by far the most beautiful part.[114] The chapel also contains an inscription, bearing the name of the founder, bishop Simon Matiffas de Bucy, who died in 1304. In the chapel of S. George is the fine marble statue of the martyred archbishop Darboy, shot in 1871 by the Communists.
FOUNTAIN IN THE LITTLE CLOISTER.
FOUNTAIN IN THE LITTLE CLOISTER.
TWO OF THE ALTO-RELIEVOS WHICH SURROUND THE CHOIR.
TWO OF THE ALTO-RELIEVOS WHICH SURROUND THE CHOIR.
The alto-reliefs alluded to above, by Jean Ravy and Jean le Bouteiller, are supported upon an arcade of clustered columns and pointed arches fixed against the back of the stalls. Formerly they were continued across the jubé and all around the choir; but unfortunately, when the sanctuary gates were constructed, these sculptures were sacrificed. The subjects are: 1, the Visitation; 2, the Appearance of the Star of Bethlehem to the Shepherds; 3, the Nativity; 4, the Adoration of the Magi; 5, the Massacre of the Innocents; 6, the Flight into Egypt; 7, the Presentation in the Temple; 8, Christ disputing with the Doctors; 9, the Baptism of Christ; 10, the Marriage in Cana; 11, the Entry into Jerusalem; 12, the Last Supper; 13, Christ washing S. Peter's Feet; 14, the Mount of Olives, The mysteries of the Passion and Resurrection were on the jubé, the destruction of which we owe to the Cardinal de Noailles. On the South side the subjects are of later date (14th century): 1, Christ appearing to the Magdalen; 2, to the Three Maries; 3, the Apostles running to the Sepulchre; 4, the Journey to Emmaüs; 5, Christ appearing to the Disciples; 6, to S. Thomas; 7, to S. Peter on the Sea of Tiberias; 8, another Appearance to the Disciples; 9, the Charge to preach the Gospel in all Lands. Jean Ravy was represented kneeling with joined hands in the last of these alto-reliefs. The whole was finished by Jean le Bouteiller in 1351; and it is recorded that a part was a votive offering in honour of God, of the Virgin Mary, and of Monseigneur S. Étienne, given by Guillaume de Melun, Archbishop of Sens—one of two bishops of the name who occupied the see in 1317-29 and 1344-96 respectively. The sculptures are all coloured and gilt, and a very good cast of them may be seen at the Crystal Palace.
The choir remained intact until 1638, when Louis XIII., putting his kingdom especially under the protection of the Blessed Virgin, registered that unfortunate vow that he would consecrate the sanctuary of Notre-Dame to the fulfilment of it. "Afin que la postérité ne puisse manquer à suivre nos volontés à ce sujet, pour monument et marque incontestable de la consécration présente que nous faisons, nous ferons construire de nouveau le grand autel de l'église cathédrale de Paris, avec une image de la Vierge qui tienne entre ses bras celle de son précieux fils, descendu de la croix, et où nous serons représentés aux pieds du fils et de la mère, comme leur offrant notre couronne et notre sceptre." Louis XIII. died in 1643, before he was able to carry out his marvellous design; but unfortunately, his son, Louis XIV., was only too ready to embellish buildings in the miserable taste of his time, and so the altar is disfigured by a Descent from the Cross by Nicolas and Guillaume Coustou, and a pair of kneeling kings (the 13th and 14th Louis) by Coysevox. In themselves these sculptures are fine examples of the art of the period, but they and the eight bronze Angels by Cayot, Vanclève, Poirier, Hurtrelle, Nagnier and Anselme Flamen, are all equally out of place in a 13th century church. The bas-reliefs of the altar were by Vassé, and Du Goulon was the sculptor of the beautiful woodwork representing scenes from the life of the Virgin. The altar was destroyed in 1793, in order to erect a symbolic "montagne" upon "les pompeux débris de l'antique imposture." The present one was reconstructed in 1803, the Entombment, in gilt copper, from designs by Vanclève, being conveyed from the chapelle des Louvois, in the old church of the Capuchins in the Place Vendôme. The cross and candelabra belonged to the cathedral of Arras before the Revolution; and the beautiful bronze lectern, as exquisite in design as in workmanship, is signed and dated, "Duplessis 1775." The statue of the Virgin, on a pillar at the entrance of the choir, had the reputation of working miracles. It was thrown down at the Revolution, but was found later at S. Denis and replaced in Notre-Dame. Such is the history of the statue, but whether it is the identical figure, it is impossible to say. In any case it is mainly of the same date as the church, which cannot be said of the reliquaries in the treasury, that are also supposed to have survived the Revolution.
The choir is raised three steps above the transepts. The two arches which separate the side aisles from the crossings show evidences of a later style. As we have seen, many sculptures were saved by the deputy Chaumette, and by Alexandre Lenoir, as works of art worthy of preservation; but unfortunately, reliquaries were of more value as metal, and most of them passed through the melting-pot into coinage for the bankrupt National treasury. The reliquaries shown at the cathedral are mostly modern imitations of those which were formerly in the Ste. Chapelle. One, however, is said to be the veritable Croix Palatine. This is a double-armed gold cross of Byzantine workmanship, formerly belonging to S. Germain-des-Prés, to which church it was left in 1684 by Anne of Cleves, princess of Mantua and of Montferrat, widow of Edouard von Baiern. The prince received it from Jean Casimir, King of Poland, when he took refuge in France; it having been given to a King of Poland in the 12th century by Manuel Comnenus, Emperor of Constantinople. The princess and her daughter, the Duchess of Brunswick, attested to having seen the cross upon one occasion encircled by flames and coming out of the fire unhurt. In 1793 the constitutional curé took the cross and preserved it until his death in 1827, when he remitted it to the archbishop of Paris. The inscription is in Greek and covers the length and the two arms: Jesus Christus cruci affixus qui exaltavit hominum naturum, scribit Comnenus Manuel coronatus. The following are some of the enormous number of valuables which formerly filled the treasury. In the inventory of 1763 there were no less than four busts and two statues in gold, silver-gilt, and jewelled; six silver reliquaries, two of gold, and five of silver-gilt; a gold cross attributed to S. Eloi, six silver-gilt crosses, and a whole closet full of silver candlesticks; besides a number of chalices, patens, ciborium, pax, censers, cruets, and other vessels for the altar; but very few were anterior to the 16th century. Of these the following remain: the Holy Crown from the S. Chapelle (imitation); the Holy Nail from S. Denis, given to Charlemagne by Constantine V., placed in the treasury of Aix-la-Chapelle, whence it was carried by Charles le Chauve to France; the golden cross of the Emperor Manuel Comnenus, 12th century, which was bequeathed by the Princess Anne de Gonzague to the monks of S. Germain des Prés in 1683;[115] two silver-gilt chalices of the 13th century; the relic of the True Cross sent in 1109 to Galon, bishop of Paris, by Anseau, precentor of the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem;[116] the crozier of Bishop Elides de Sully, of wood and copper; the crucifix belonging to S. Vincent de Paul, which he presented to Louis XIII. upon his death-bed; the "discipline" of S. Louis; portions of this king's raiment; and the soutanes of archbishops Affre, Sibour, and Darboy.
The high altar as originally arranged had brass bars at the sides from which hung draperies. Behind it was another altar, that of the Holy Trinity, or les ardents raised so that it could be seen above the first one. Steps led up to this, and between them was a depository called the conditoire, where all the sacred vessels used at mass were kept. There was no tabernacle; as in most churches in the old times, the host was enclosed in a ciborium which hung in front of the altar. A figure in alabaster of the Virgin surmounted the autel des ardents. Above all were three rows of châsses, one above the other, as it were upon shelves, containing relics of S. Gendulphe, S. Séverin, S. Germain, bishop of Paris, S. Justin, S. Lucain, S. Ursula's young friends, and other martyrs. The reliquary of S. Marcel was behind the high altar, resplendent in gold and pearls and precious stones, an elaborate and beautiful work of art, by, said tradition, S. Éloi, the bishop of Noyon; but unfortunately, it was too valuable to escape the melting-pot, and its 436 marcs worth of gold found their way into coin of the Republic.
STEPS IN THE LITTLE CLOISTER.
STEPS IN THE LITTLE CLOISTER.
The church was rich in glass up to the year 1741, when a demon in human shape, one Levieil, the author of a treatise upon the art of glass-painting, set to work to re-adorn Notre-Dame. He describes the matter himself; what he found and what he transformed. In the choir and the apse the windows were ornamented with colossal figures 18 ft. high, representing bishops, vested and bearing pastoral staves, without the usual crook termination. A border of lozenge-shapen coloured glass framed the figures and filled up the divisions of the compartments. These windows Levieil dated no later than 1182, and he adds that there were many fragments of much older glass, probably emanating from the ancient basilicas, which preceded the present church, interspersed between the grisaille of the 12th century. In the tribune of the choir were windows given by a little personage whose effigy knelt at the bottom of one, Michel de Darency by name, chaplain of Saint-Ferréol, who died in 1358. The abbot Suger also gave some of the glass in the tribune, resembling that of his own church, S. Denis, which is so rich in resplendent sapphire blue. In some of the chapels were subjects such as the Beheading of S. John Baptist, a king and queen, possibly Philippe le Bel and Jeanne de Navarre, kneeling. All this, or most of it, was improved away, or re-arranged into floriated borders and armorial bearings upon white glass. A little remains of the 14th century: some small Angels holding the instruments of the Passion, a Pelican and its chicks, a Christ draped in red, and a little figure of the Virgin. This is all in the chevet. But the glory of the church is the glass of the rose-windows, which continue the subjects portrayed upon the sculpture of the doors over which they are placed. In the western rose the Virgin is in the central compartment, crowned and bearing a sceptre; on her left arm is the infant Christ giving the benediction. The twelve prophets surround her, and we see again the Signs of the Zodiac, and the work special to each month during the year. Virtues and Vices, Judges, Priests, Prophets, and Kings of Judah; Saints and Martyrs with the instruments of their martyrdom, or palms, decorate these exquisite windows, masterpieces of the art; equal to the windows of Metz and Strasburg, and contemporary with the stone walls which surround them.
Formerly the pavement was a mass of tombstones, erect or prostrate, bearing portraits of the defunct in brass or marble; but Louis XIV.'s architects thought well to improve many of them away, and substitute a marble pavement costing 300,000 francs. Many brass tombs had been melted up with the lectern some years previously. Among the celebrities who had formerly either effigies or epitaphs in the choir were the following. Princes and Princesses: Philippe, Archdeacon of Paris, son of Louis VI., 1161; Geoffroy, duc de Bretagne, son of Henry II. of England, 1186; Isabelle de Hainault, first wife of Philippe-Auguste, 1189; Louis, dauphin, son of Charles VI., 1415; Louise de Savoie, mother of François Ier., 1531 (only her heart was buried here); Louis XIII., 1643. Bishops of Paris: Eudes de Sully, 1208; Étienne II., called Tempier, 1279; Cardinal Aymeric de Magnac, 1384; Pierre d'Orgemont, 1409; Denis Dumoulin, patriarch of Antioch, 1447. Archbishops of Paris: Pierre de Marca, 1662; Hardouin de Péréfixe, 1671; François de Harlay, 1695; and an archbishop of Sens, who was also High Almoner of France, Renaud de Beaune, who died in 1616.
The few statues which are now in the church are modern: the marble monument by Pigalle, of the Comte d'Harcourt; of Cardinal de Belloy giving alms to a woman and child, by Deseine; and those of the three murdered archbishops, Sibour, Affre, and Darboy, who are buried in the crypt. The epitaph of Monseigneur Affre is as follows: Le bon pasteur donne sa vie pour ses brebis.... Que mon sang soit le dernier versé.
GARGOYLES.
GARGOYLES.
The bells of Notre-Dame were justly celebrated; but of the thirteen which were formerly in the towers, only one remains, the great bourdon, heard all over the city on great occasions; as, for instance, on Holy Saturday, when at High Mass, during the Gloria, it peals forth, giving the signal for all the other church bells to break their forty-eight hours' silence. It was given by Jean de Montaigu[117] in 1400, who named it Jacqueline, after his wife Jacqueline de La Grange; and in 1686 it was refoundered and re-baptised—Emmanuel-Louise-Thérèse, in honour of Louis XIV. and Marie-Thérèse of Austria.
The exterior decoration of Notre-Dame is very rich. Gargoyles, monsters of the most grotesque type, called also tarasques and magots, are there, encircling the towers, and disputing their importance with the Angel of the Judgment. The monsters stand, as they did centuries ago, gazing down upon Paris and its doings for good or for evil. Think of the events they have witnessed from the burning of fifty-four Templars in a slow fire by Philippe IV., to the horrors of the Commune. They must have seen the flaming villages and châteaux during the Jacquerie, and witnessed those useless sorties during the last war, when the Parisians vainly endeavoured to escape from the city and gain one of the outside army corps. They seem to look down in scorn upon humanity, whether in the form of the coronation of Henry VI. of England, so mean an affair that "un bourgeois qui marierait ses enfants ferait mieux les choses," or the misery of the famine of 1419-21. "Vous auriez entendu dans tout Paris des lamentations pitoyables, des petits enfants qui criaient, 'Je meurs de faim.' On voyait sur un fumier 20-30 enfants garçons, filles, qui rendaient l'âme de faim et de froid. On enterrait 100,000 personnes. Des bandes de loups courraient les campagnes et entraient même la nuit dans Paris pour enlever les cadavres." And all the ages through, the brutes have had the same expression of scorn, of spite, of diabolical ugliness, that one feels it to be a comfort that they are fixed safely to the gallery of the towers, out of the way of working mischief.
Amongst the great ceremonies which have taken place in the cathedral are: The marriage of Marie Stuart with François II., of France, in 1552; the marriage of Henri of Navarre and Marguerite de Valois upon a platform erected outside the great porch, to prevent Protestant contamination of the church. This was upon the eve of S. Bartholomew, the 18th August, just six days before the great work of massacre on the 24th. The coronation of Napoléon by Pope Pius VII., in 1804; the marriage of the Duc du Berry, and the baptism of the Duc du Bordeaux (Comte de Chambord) in 1816; the funeral of the Duc d'Orléans, son of Louis Philippe, in 1853; the marriage of Louis-Napoléon in 1853; the baptism of his son in 1857, and a certain number of episcopal consecrations.
DEMON WATCHING THE FIRES OF THE COMMUNE.
DEMON WATCHING THE FIRES OF THE COMMUNE.
There was a great procession organized in 1590, during the siege of Paris by Henri IV. Sermons were preached against "Le Béarnais," the clergy took up arms, and the pope's legate promised the palm of martyrdom to all who fell in the holy cause. The day after the first assault, the procession took place. The principal heroes of the League, after shaving head and face, marched first, vested in "camail and rochet," and bearing sword and "partisan." Then came a number of monks in order of battle, shouldering their axes and arquebuses, "dans un accoutrement moitié religieux et moitié militaire qui avait quelque chose de burlesque et de terrible à la fois. L'Eglise militante chantant des hymnes entremêlées de salves de mousqueterie. Ils défilèrent devant le legat, qui les traita de vrais Machabées; pour que quelques-uns mériterent à la défense des remparts." But it did not save them from starvation.
NOTRE-DAME BY MOONLIGHT.
NOTRE-DAME BY MOONLIGHT.
There was at one time a mass said for the idle at "la plus haute heure du matin. Ainsi qu'en d'aucunes paroisses de Paris, il y a la messe d'unze heures." This was suppressed in 1722 by the Cardinal de Noailles, archbishop of Paris. It was founded by the kindly regular canon, Jean Le Moyne, and its revenues were applied to the bénéficiers machicots and clercs du matins. The machicots were officers of the church of Notre-Dame inferior to the bénéficiers, and superior to the simple wage-singers. The word machicotage "se dit de certaines additions des notes, suivant une merche diatonique avec lesquelles on remplessait dans le plain chant les intervalles du tierces et autres." A number of corona hang from the vault, and in the crossing of the transepts is a huge one recalling that of Hildesheim. When lighted during the services of Holy Week, just giving a gentle diffused glimmer, the effect is very fine; never, indeed, are these great churches so grand as at the evening services. The mass of men sitting in the nave (it is reserved for them), the deep roar of their voices as they sing the Miserere, the intense silence during the eloquent discourses of Père Monsabré or some other Dominican, the procession, dimly lighted, of old canons in every stage of decrepitude, the small boys, followed by a crowd of the most unharmonious specimens of humanity, carrying tapers, are elements forming a picture which is uniquely picturesque. In the old days before the war, the graceful, sweet-expressioned archbishop, bending to this side and that, while the faithful kissed his episcopal ring and received his blessing, added to the beauty of the scene. Had we known what was in store for him, it would have added also to the pathos.
This building may be described as a dome and a portico, built from 1670 to 1676, by Charles Erard, director of the Academy of France at Rome, and decorated by Charles de la Fosse. The cupola is graceful, and if it were as well decorated as the Allerheiligen church of the palace at München, or the Apollinarus-Kirche at Remagen on the Rhine, it would be an imposing edifice; as it is, it seems under a cloud, and is only used as a succursale or dépendance of the Madeleine. It belonged to the convent of Augustinian nuns, now turned into barracks, but still showing a few remains of the cloister. It is strange that no one in these days should desire to build a round church under a dome ablaze with mosaic decoration. It might have a sanctuary as at Aix-la-Chapelle for the Divine offices, with a pulpit in the dome, which would have the advantage of being placed so that all the congregation could see the preacher. I am thinking at this moment of the beautiful Russian church in Paris, which is gorgeous with colour and gilding. Such a building upon a large scale, built in the sumptuous style of the Brompton Oratory, of marbles and mosaic, and in the form of the church of the Assumption, would be a refreshing change from red brick and Doulton tiles, which seem to be inseparately mixed up with elaborate ritual, and are as infallibly correct as clothing for an Anglo-Catholic service as is chocolate colour for dressing up pseudo-Grecian temples surmounted by pepper-box turrets, which delighted the architects at the beginning of this styleless century.
If I say that the little church and cloister, which are all that remain of a monastery of Cistercian nuns, built in 1718, are situated in the Rue de Sèvres, hard by the Bon Marché, my readers will immediately picture their whereabouts. At the beginning of this century, the Abbaye became a genteel boarding-house for fashionable ladies who played at being weary of the world; but, although they retired into a monastic building, their monde followed them; and thus we find Madame Recamier receiving her admirers in her cloistered salon, and listening to their philosophical sophistries while she elegantly reclines upon a satin sofa with straight legs and curling arms.
When the white-mantled religious, the servants of Mary, came to Paris about the year 1258, they set up housekeeping in the street which is now named after them, the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux. Everyone who has been to Florence knows the chapel of the Annunziata, where during mass one day, the general of the Servites, Filippo Benozzi, saw a vision of the Virgin sitting in a chariot, and heard her voice calling upon him to draw near, and join himself to her servants, who, some fifteen years earlier, had banded themselves together. There were seven of them, all of noble family, and they gained their name from their especial devotion to the Virgin. As they wandered out to the church of the Annunciation to sing their Angelus, the women and children used to point at them and cry out, "Guardate i Servi di Maria"; and so, when they formed themselves into a community, they became known as the "Servi" or "Serviti." Benozzi was a medicine man of benevolent disposition, who, tired of witnessing suffering (perhaps of operations performed without anæsthetics), gave up his work, and retired, like another S. Benedict, to Monte Senario. His power in smoothing down the ruffled-up backs of the Tuscans in their many family squabbles was so great that he became a renowned moral healer; and in 1285, when he died, his order was flourishing all over Italy and France. It was soon after his beatification, about 1671, that Andrea del Sarto was called upon to decorate part of the cloisters of the Annunziata; and, as a result, we have the lovely Madonna del Sacco. At the end of the 13th century the hermits of Saint-Guillaume replaced the Servites at the monastery of the Blancs-Manteaux, and in 1618 the house was united to the Reformed Benedictines who erected a new church. The habit of the monks was then changed to black, but as the name of Blancs-Manteaux was still retained, the people called the fathers les mal nommés. The conventual buildings are now occupied by the Mont-de-Piété, another kind of service of the poor, in the shape of official and honest pawnbroking. If anyone wishes to study character, let him go into the great hall, and look at those rows and rows of physiognomies sitting upon the benches awaiting their turn to be served. Young, old, poor, and, apparently, rich, all go there for loans upon their goods; and you may pile upon the mountain anything you like, from a bundle of rags to a diamond butterfly.
Legendary history records an assemblage of the first Christians of Lutetia in the fields where now runs the Rue S. Jacques, listening to the preaching of S. Denis, and strengthening themselves against the persecution which loomed in the distance. And legend further relates that a chapel was built upon this spot. But leaving the realms of tradition, we find an authentic account of a church in the 8th century which, in the next hundred years, was served by the Benedictine monks of Marmoutier. This remained the headquarters of a priory for about six hundred years. In 1604, Cardinal Bérulle introduced the Carmelite order as reformed by S. Theresa, and the nuns began to rebuild. The church they left intact with its 13th century porch, and its great statues of S. Denis, Moses, Aaron, David, and Solomon. This building disappeared, and a modern one arose in its stead, more to the West; but the crypt is supposed to be under the level of the street; and according to the abbé Lebœuf, a second subterraneous burial-ground of Gallo-Roman origin was discovered still lower down, with fragments of tombstones, slabs, pottery, and the like. The present church contains a few débris of its former grandeur, a statue by Sarazin, of Cardinal de Bérulle, being the principal one.
The monastery was celebrated, during the 17th century, as the asylum of many distinguished ladies who sought a refuge from their troubles; amongst others, of the blessed Sœur Louise de la Miséricorde, who died there in 1710, in the odour of sanctity. In her mundane career this Madeleine da la Cour was Mdlle. de la Vallière, and she is said to have posed to Le Brun for his terrible picture of La Madeleine pénitente renonce à toutes les vanités de la vie, which was painted for M. de Camus as an adornment of this Carmelite church. It is now in the Louvre, which it in nowise adorns. Lebrun, as a decorative artist, painting allegories and battles, is bearable; but his religious pictures are only gross exaggerations of the Italian Eclectics. This Madeleine de la Vallière is in a tortuous state of agony at the thought of the vanities she enjoyed. With eyes turned up, with her flowing locks, and swathed in rich satin garments, which are blown by a gust of wind coming in at the open casement on the top of a cloud, she looks thunder-struck; it is astonishment at the discovery of her sinfulness, revealed by the heavens opening, and the Divine voice addressing her. Surely the moderns, the Bérauds, the Lhermites, the Dagnan-Bouverets, Uhde, Hitchcock, Pierce, and their followers, have far more religious feeling, although they clothe their personages as Parisian workpeople, and paint their Madeleines, like Henner, in the pastures (apparently) of the Bois de Boulogne—backgrounds, considering the subject, not altogether inappropriate.
An utterly uninteresting exterior encloses some good mural paintings by Orsel, Périn, and Roger. The church was completed in 1836 by Lebas, and were the weather always bright, the interior would not fail to impress the visitor; but it is too dark for a Northern clime, and it is therefore difficult fully to appreciate the frescoes. That over the altar is by Picot; the subjects from the life of the Virgin are by Dubois, Langlois, Vinchon, and Hesse; the choir is the work of Delorme; the Presentation in the Temple, and Christ disputing with the Doctors, are by Heim and Drolling. They are all inspired by a reverent feeling for the subjects, and are resplendent with gold.
Louis XIII. laid the first stone of this church in 1629, and dedicated it to Our Lady of Victory, in memory of the famous battle of La Rochelle. It was part of the convent of barefooted Augustins, who were nicknamed the Little Fathers, by Henri IV., on account of the diminutive stature of some of the friars, and consequently the church was as often called Notre-Dame des Petits Pères as Notre-Dame des Victoires. Pierre Lemut was its original architect; and before it was completed, in 1740, by Cartaud, two other architects, Libéral Bruant and Gabriel Leduc, lent their aid. The cupola is decorated with an Assumption; pictures by Vanloo adorn the choir, and other chapels contain some by Perrault. Those by Vanloo represent the thanksgiving of the King and the Cardinal for the mighty victory aforesaid, the taking of La Rochelle. But the interest of, or the objections to, the church, according to the point of view from which we start, consists in the innumerable ex-voto tablets which cover the walls, and proclaim the answers to prayers by mothers, wives, husbands, sons, fathers, and daughters. They are emblems of the faith which saves. But would not the same earnest prayers, put up on other spots, produce the same results? Is it not a narrow notion that we are more likely to be heard in the Place des Victoires than in the Halles? Such is not the view of the dévots and dévotes, as the statue of the Virgin proclaims, for it is hung all over with costly jewels and ornaments; and whatever time of the day we may enter the church, we find it almost filled with troubled souls who come to gain an indulgence at its privileged altars, which are to those of a different sort of mind examples of what to avoid. For those persons having leanings to superstition, let me commend this church as an antidote; to others, it is neither æsthetically interesting nor, from a religious point of view, particularly edifying. To musicians it has one attraction, as being the burial-place of Jean-Baptiste Lulli, the charming fiddler, who died in 1687, and whose bronze statue by Cotton is in the transept.
Built for the Oratorians, this elegant circular church is now given over to Protestant gloom of the least decorative order. It was constructed by François Mansard, and dedicated to Notre-Dame-des-Anges in 1634, upon the site, some authorities say, of the Hôtel of Gabrielle d'Estrèes; it may therefore be said to have passed from the good Gabrielle, through the better fathers, to the best Protestants; or, contrariwise, from the bad Demoiselle to the worse Catholics, and, worst of all, Calvinists. However, now all is calm, and passions have subsided; and a fine statue of Admiral Coligny is fixed to its wall, facing the scene of his murder on that fearful feast of bloodshed which S. Bartholemew must have been scandalized to find attached to his name.
In the Rue Saint-Antoine is the old church of the Jesuits, gorgeous in marbles, gilding and stucco, as is the wont of the architects employed by those wary fathers. It was built from the designs of François Derraud from 1627-41. The remains of the conventual buildings are now occupied by the Collège Charlemagne. The expenses of the building were defrayed by Louis XIII. and Richelieu, who celebrated his maiden mass there. It was the second cupola erected in Paris, the first being that belonging to the Carmelite church. It is Italian in style, the façade being very similar to that of S. Gervais, recalling the Gesu and S. Ignacius at Rome, and is adorned with statues of S. Louis, by Lequesne; of S. Catherine, by Auguste Préault; and of S. Anne, by Etex. Bourdaloue and archbishop Huet of Avranches are buried there, and in a crypt below lie the Jesuits who have died in the convent from its foundation until the suppression of the order. The numerous monuments were swept away at the Revolution: a rich sculptured coffer for the heart of Louis XIII., and another by Coustou le jeune, containing Louis XIV.'s heart. The tabernacle was of silver gilt, but it is no more. The only contents now of any interest are a picture representing the abbey of Longchamps, attributed to Philippe de Champaigne, and a fine work by Delacroix, Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. Although his first known picture, it is an example of his splendid colouring and grand composition. Victor Hugo's first child was born in the parish, and baptized at S. Paul's, and to commemorate the event the poet presented two holy-water stoops, in the shape of shells, very beautiful in design.
"This church presents you with a single insulated row of fluted Ionic pillars, on each side of the nave; very airy, yet consequential, and even imposing. It is much to my taste, and I wish such a plan were more generally adopted in the interiors of Grecian-constructed churches. The choir, the altar ... the whole is extremely simple and elegant. Nor must the roof be omitted to be particularly mentioned. It is an arch constructed of wood, upon a plan originally invented by Philibert Delorme—so well known in the annals of art in the sixteenth century. The whole is painted in stone-colour, and may deceive the most experienced eye. This beautiful church was built after the designs of Chalgrin, about the year 1700, and is considered to be a purer resemblance of the antique than any other in Paris. Perhaps the principal front may be thought to be too close or servile a copy. It was erected upon the site of an ancient Gothic chapel, of which latter the author of the three quarto volumes of Parisian topography has given a vignette from the only known design of it, in aquatint, but very indifferent. This church, well worth your examination, is situated in a quarter rarely visited by our countrymen, in the Rue du Faubourg du Roule, not far from the barriers."[118]
I give this criticism of S. Philippe because it shows how taste has changed in architecture, as indeed in all else. From most persons' point of view the church is quite uninteresting; indeed the only object in going there is, except to a certain number of fashionables, to hear some celebrated preacher. It was from the pulpit of S. Philippe that Père Didon poured forth those eloquent and learned discourses, stocked with liberal ideas, which brought him into disgrace and forced retirement, until quite recently.
It is curious, too, that the quarter should have so changed. It is now the centre of the English and American colonists, and withal well filled with persons who delight in the one o'clock mass. It is so convenient; they can saunter in after déjeuner, say a few prayers, step into their carriages again, and go straight off to the races. Perhaps S. Augustin has bereft S. Philippe of some of its fashion; but it has still plenty to spare; it may be said to swarm with elegant toilettes, and not much else in the way of beauty. Let us walk on.