was a rhyme of the Moustiers de Paris, written in 1270; and a document of 1325 upon the Churches and Monasteries of Paris thus confirms the usefulness of S. Julien-le-Pauvre:
The early history of S. Julien is similar to that of all the other churches of Paris. Destroyed in 886 by the Normans,[96] it fell into lay hands, but was rebuilt in the 12th century, and became the property of Etienne de Vitry and Hugues de Monteler, who, in consequence of a vow made during sickness in the Holy Land, gave it over to the monks of Longport, near Monthéry, who rebuilt the church and erected a priory for fifty brothers.
The 13th and 14th centuries were periods of great intellectual activity. Students flocked to Paris from all parts of Europe, and the left bank of the Seine became a colony of colleges. According to Victor Hugo, there were no less than forty-two in 1465.[97] S. Julian was in the midst of these schools, and in the streets surrounding it were dwellings for the students of the various nationalities. The little Rue du Fouarre takes its name from fourrage, the straw upon which the students sat during the lectures; and so large was the attendance in 1535, that the authorities were obliged to erect two gates to prevent the circulation of carriages during the lessons. Brunetto Latini, Dante Alighieri, Petrarca, and Rabelais, were among the students of the Rue du Fouarre; the three last referring to it in their writings. Dante, especially, mentions his old master Sigier de Brabant in his Divinia Commedia:
The poet also bears witness to the violent discussions which took place in the street, and adds that he found comfort in going to S. Julien to say his prayers. Ambroise-Firmin Didot speaks of Dante living in the Rue du Fouarre, in vico stramineo; and Mézières adds his testimony: "Il est allé chercher la science à Bologne et entendre à Paris, dans la Rue du Fouarre, de la bouche de Sigier, ces leçons hardies qui effrayaient ces contemporains."
The colleges and dwelling-houses of the students, together with the buildings of the priory, formed a small town. In an old plan of the church, and its dependencies in the precincts, during the 14th century, we find a number of most curious names attached to the houses: Maison d'Angleterre, de la Hure, de Picardie, de Normandie, de l'Ymaige Notre-Dame, du Paon, de l'Escu de France, de la Nef[98] d'Argent, du Sabot, du Soufflet vert, du Papegaut, des Carneaulx, des Deux Cygnes, des Lyons, de la Heuze, des Trois Boittes, des Quatre filz Hémon, de la Corne de Daim, du Lièvre cornu, de la Cuiller, des Trois Canettes, du Poing d'or, de la Main d'argent, du Turbot, les Étuves de la Queue du Reynard, l'Escouvette d'or, and la ruelle du Trou-Punais; la maison des Sept-Arts, à la nation d'Angleterre; les Escolles du Cheval Rouge à la nation de Picardie, et la maison de la Corne de Cerf; these are only a few of the names. Many of the houses were demolished quite recently to make way for the Rue Monge. Much as I love Paris and admire it, I sometimes wish a new street were not obliged to proceed upon its way in a perfectly straight line, thereby destroying all that comes in its path. A remnant of the houses attached to S. Julien may be seen in the Rue Galande, No. 42, maison de la Heuze et de Saint-Julien—the bas-relief of the old portal, mentioned above.
For several centuries the old church was the seat of the general assemblies of the University; and by a decree of Philippe le Bel, the Provost of Paris was obliged to go there every two years, to take an oath to observe the privileges of the students, who were under his jurisdiction. He bore the title of Conservateur de l'Université with much pride; but he must have had a troublous life, for the students were always quarrelling with the citizens; and in the reign of Charles VI., the then Provost, Hugues Aubriot, rebuilt the Petit-Châtelet (which was close to S. Julien), in order to defend the city against the nocturnal incursions of the scholars. To such a pass had matters come in 1601, that the Parliament issued the following decree: "La court a faict inhibitions et défences aux dicts escolliers porter espées et dagues sur le quay de la Tournelle ny commettre aucune insolence." There were several classes of students, Boursiers and Pensionnaires (Convicteurs ou Portionnistes) living with the masters; Caméristes, rich young men who lived without control and were only provided with teaching and firing; Externes libres, or Martinets, troublesome students who gained their name because they rarely appeared before the Principal except for punishment with the rod or martinet; and the Galoches, who lived out of college (externes), and were named after the clogs (patins or galoches) with great nails which they wore to keep their feet dry in traversing the muddy or snowy streets. These were often older men whose presence at lectures flattered the professors. Up to the 16th century, S. Julien was also the scene of the election of the Rector of the Faculty of Arts, Rector Magnificus de l'Alma Parens; and upon these occasions, notably in 1524, the students seemed to have amused themselves, after their kind, by breaking doors and windows, wrenching knockers, and such like playful imbecilities. The next year Parliament decreed that the elections should take place elsewhere; the new localities chosen being, first the Mathurins, and then the College Louis le Grand.
The University of Paris was established in 1200, but the word was not commonly used until the time of S. Louis. In the time of Philippe Auguste there were three schools in Paris, at Notre-Dame, and at the abbeys of S. Victor and S. Geneviève. Naturally to keep so many students in order was no easy task, and we can easily understand that upon every excuse, every small discontent of the citizens, the scholars were only too glad to help in the scrimmage. They were at first classified in nations, or Société de Maîtres; thus in 1169 we read of la nation de France, surnamed Honoranda; la nation de Picardie, Fidellissima; la nation Normande, Veneranda; and la nation d'Angleterre, Constantissima. In the "town and gown" rows between students and citizens, the members of the University were only amenable to the Provost of Paris, who gloried in the title of Conservateur de l'Université; and when this gentleman found the gownsmen in the wrong, the University suspended its lectures.
But S. Julien was not simply the centre of the University; it was also the head-quarters of many guilds and corporations, such as the Confraternity of Notre-Dame-des-Vertus, the Paper-makers, the Ironfounders, and Roof-tilers.
Even before the Revolution, church property was not entirely exempt from taxation. The abbeys and other ecclesiastical communities possessed enormous privileges; but they were not enjoyed without certain obligations, as witness requisitions from the sovereigns to furnish supplies to carry on their little warlike pastimes. Sometimes the amount was sent in money, but more often in kind; a few silver saints, some golden shrines, and so on. S. Julien possessed a good revenue in the old days, but in the 16th century the priory had begun to decline in position and in wealth. The colleges moved up the "mountain" of S. Geneviève; teachers and scholars deserted the old quarters; the houses, which had been the greatest source of revenue, had begun to fall into decay; and the priors became indifferent to their business affairs, and were often absentees. At last things became so bad that, in 1643, a prior named E. Thiboust had to be deposed, and replaced, nominally by Pierre de la Valette, practically by Pierre Méliand, who accused his predecessor "d'avoir laissé dépérir l'église depuis l'an 1612 qu'il était entré en jouissance du prieuré. Et pendant cette jouissance, qui a duré 18 ans, le sieur Thiboust a laissé tomber une grande partie de l'église en ruine." Not only did prior Thiboust allow the buildings to fall into decay, but he must have kept back part of the revenues; for the next step was a petition to the King's procureur-général to beg him to oblige Thiboust to pay 16,500 livres, the repairs requisite having been estimated at that sum by the King's judges Villedo and Monnard. But notwithstanding this, Thiboust took upon himself to grant a lease to Nicolas Brossier and Edme Porrion for a certain stone quarry situated at Croix Faubin; and although the King confirmed Méliand in the priory, the audacious Thiboust pleaded youth at the time of his appointment, and subsequently shuffled out of payment of the whole sum.
The church was in a parlous state when prior Méliand began his repairs. The roof was in a miserable condition, with a temporary covering over the altar to keep out the rain and the door was almost in the last state of decay; so Messire Claude Menardeau was called in (he was a councillor of the King's, and a commissaire), and he decided "que des réparations seraient faites au plus tôt, d'autant que l'églize despérit journellement par la pluye et autres injures du temps, qui y tombent, comme en plaine campagne." Unfortunately the master mason, Bernard Roche, to whom the work was given, began by destroying the Gothic west front and portal, to make room for lodgings for the ecclesiastics. Then we read of plasterings, and a new front with pediment and Ionic columns, and all the Classicisms so much beloved in the 17th and 18th centuries.
In 1655 the priory and its possessions were made over to the Hôtel-Dieu; and thenceforth, until the demolition of the old building a few years ago, it was used as the hospital chapel. But previous to this, Cardinal Mazarin had turned over an annual payment of 2,500 livres to the Hôtel-Dieu from the revenue of his abbey of Saint-Étienne at Caen, and in his capacity of abbot in chief of the order of Cluny, he made a bargain which put an end to the independence of S. Julien. The prior was to resign, and all the revenues of the convent were to go to the establishment of a convalescent hospital; the Hôtel-Dieu undertaking, in return, to carry on Divine service in the church, and to fulfil the conditions of the different foundations belonging to it. At this time, 1660, the property of S. Julien consisted of thirty-eight houses and gardens in the neighbouring streets, besides certain lands in the Faubourg S. Jacques, at Montmartre, at Vitry, Villeneuve and Versailles, together with revenues in kind—corn and fodder, and donations made at burials; altogether amounting to about 2,400 livres.
It appears that the misfortunes of S. Julien were not over when it lost its independence, for Louis Roche required payment for his various "improvements," and so the poor church had to sell its plate. Nor could services be held there without the permission of the archbishop, as the curé of S. Séverin seems to have objected: "Défense lui (the chaplain of S. Julien) est faite de célébrer des messes hautes, de faire l'eau bénite, la bénédiction du pain, de reçevoir offrande, faire quête, chanter l'office et le salut, ni même exposer le Saint-Sacrament en ladite église, sans la permission de Son Eminence."
In 1705 an inventory of the furniture, vestments, and plate was taken, and a very poor collection it seems to have been; indeed, at that time, even the hospital revenues were only about a sixth of the expenses. The inhabitants of Paris had largely increased, and famines and wars had brought many of them to the Hôtel-Dieu; so full was it that seven or eight patients were packed into one bed, which, even considering the width of an 18th-century sleeping place, must have been rather unpleasant crowding.
EXTERIOR OF SAINT-JULIEN.
EXTERIOR OF SAINT-JULIEN.
At the Revolution, the revenues passed over to the State, and God's House was converted into the "House of Humanity." The old church became a salt warehouse, the asile was pulled down, and it was only in 1826 that S. Julien was restored to its right use.
The first time I visited the church was before the Franco-German war, when I was taken over the hospital by one of the Augustinian sisters. Two or three patients were there pouring out their sorrows, or giving thanks for mercies received. Outside, in the garden, were a few more sitting about among the trees, making a charming picture, such as Fred Walker would have delighted in. All this is now changed, and the sisters are gone with the old hospital buildings and the quaint covered bridge—a second Ponte Vecchio. Whether the poor have gained anything by being nursed by lay-women instead of religious, we cannot say; but no one will deny that the sisters were devoted to their work—kindly, patient, sweet-tempered, of the same spirit as when, in the old time, they not only nursed, but "au plus fort de l'hiver," they broke the ice of the river, "qui passe au milieu de cet hôpital, et y entrer jusqu'à la moitié du corps pour laver les linges." It was in S. Julien that the White Sisters took the veil, and devoted themselves specially to the service of God and the care of His poor.
The Miraculous Well and some of the foundations are all that remain of the first Carlovingian church; the arcades of the nave and some of the columns date back to the commencement of the 12th century, but the rest of the building belongs to the end of that period. The tower, like the portal, was improved away by Master Bernard Roche, and the old bell has at present to content itself with a little pointed roof as a covering. Its inscription is dated, and is in French:
✠
J. H. S.
MARIE SUIS NOMMÉE PAR M. JEAN BOURLON, CONSEILLER DU ROY
ET GREFFIER EN SA CHAMBRE DES COMPTES, ET PAR DAME MARIE
PAJOT, FEMME DE M. ALEXANDRE REBOURS, CONSEILLER DU ROY
EN SON CONSEIL D'ÉTAT ET PRIVÉ, ET PRÉSIDENT DE LA COUR DES
AYDES DE PARIS ET VE DE BARTHÉLEMY TOUSSAINCT MOUSSIER
GOUVERNEUR DE L'ÉGLISE DE CÉANS DELAUNAY.
1640.
The plan of the church was originally a nave and aisles of six bays, each terminating in an apse, but in 1675 two bays were demolished with the entire west end, to make room for a forecourt. (It is said that, of all the churches of Paris, the two which stand most truly East and West are Notre-Dame and S. Julien.) Although parts of the interior have suffered from "improvements" and neglect, the two bays of the choir and the apsidal terminations have lost nothing of their original beauty. The single-shaft pillars, recalling upon a small scale those of Notre-Dame, the clustered columns which support the vault, and the little columns of the windows; the capitals, the bosses, and the mouldings are all in the best style of the end of the 12th century. The sculpture of the details is treated with the greatest care, and the ornamentation of the capitals (about one hundred and fifty in all) has all the variety of foliage and imagery so dear to the Mediæval artists. The most curious example is on the south side of the choir. Springing from a mass of foliage are four figures of birds with female heads, bodies of feathers, outspread wings, and clawed feet. Some of the foliage is the acanthus, but still more represents the water plants which probably, in those early days, grew in the Seine; for it must be remembered that the sculptors of the Middle Ages were in the habit of taking their inspiration from the types of Nature which surrounded them. It is curious that one of the capitals in Notre-Dame, in the same position (the south side of the choir) is almost identical with the one just described. On the right side of the altar is the piscina, which is said to communicate with the Miraculous Well; the water having been held in great veneration, people came to fetch it from far and near.
The church contains no monuments of any artistic value. A curious bas-relief with a very long inscription was erected to the memory of Honorable et sage Maistre Henry Rousseau, jadis avocat en Parlement, seigneur de Chaillaut (Chaillot) ... lequel trépassa l'an 1445 le IXe jour de novembre. Dieu en ait l'âme. Amen. The defunct left money to endow masses, and also for the Hôtel-Dieu. He is represented enveloped in a winding-sheet, addressing a prayer to our Lord, which is written upon a streamer. The words in italics are lost:
Peccavi super numer [um arene maris et multiplicata sunt peccata
mea] non sum
Dignus videre altidinem [Celi pre multitudine
iniquitatis mee q̄m̄ irrita] ram tuam.
Et malum coram te feci
q̄m̄ ini [q̄ūitāt̄ē mea ego cognosco et] delictum meum
Coram
me est semper. Tibi soli pecca [vi ideo deprecor] majestatem tuam
Ut tu deleas iniquitatem meam miserere mei [secundum magn̄a
misericordia] tuam.
The epitaph is in Gothic letters, and in an excellent state of preservation. Above the bordering we read:
Cy devant gist honorable homme et sage maîstre Henry Rousseau,
Jadis advocat en Parlement, seigneur de Chaillaut et de
Within the framing:
Compans en partie, lequel dès son vivant a fondé en cest hostel
trois messes
Par chascune sepmaine qui sont et doivent estre dites
et célébrées à l'autel et
Chapelle de Mons. S. Loys, jadis Roy de
France, située et assise au milieu de cest
Ostel, aux jour de
Mercredi, Vendredi et Dimenche. Cest assavoir au mercredi
De
Requiem, au vendredi de la Croix et au dimenche de la Solennité du
jour, où
A la voulenté du célébrant, et en la fin de chascune messe
qui ne serait ditte
De Requiem, le célébrant est tenu de faire
mémoire des Trespassez et pour ce
Faire a fondé le dit Deffunct et
donné à cest hostel XII livres de Rentes que il ou ses hoirs
Doivent faire admortir, situées et assises sur une maison et
estuves assises à Paris
Devant le Palais, à l'image Saint Michel,
et, pour avoir la sépulture en cette chapelle
Below the border:
a donné la somme de cent francs que aussi en son vivant il a payiez en six Livres Parisis de Rente assises sur plusieurs maisons à Paris declaires ès, Lettres sur ce faictes, tout pour le salut de son âme et des âmes de ses père et mère, parents et amis, lequel trépassa l'an 1445 te IXe jour de novembre.
Dieu en ait l'âme. Amen.
The bas-relief was originally coloured, and at the corners of the border were armorial bearings. The slab was formerly in the church of S. Blaise and S. Louis, which was destroyed in 1765, and which belonged to S. Julien, only having been separated from it by a narrow passage. It is supposed to have been either a refectory or a private chapel. In 1476 the masons and carpenters of Paris made it the seat of their guild, and built the portal in the Rue Galande; in 1684 it was reconstructed.
Another monument, or rather statue, by Bosio, of Antoine de Montyon, was removed from the old Hôtel Dieu when it was pulled down, and placed over the last burial-place of the philanthropist. Originally interred at Vaugirard, M. de Montyon's body was afterwards placed under the peristyle of the hospital, where it remained until the demolition. M. de Montyon is principally known by his prix de vertu given annually by the Immortals of the Institut. But he left other legacies for prizes: to whomsoever should discover the means of rendering certain industries less unhealthy; to a poor French subject who should write a book the most conducive to morals; for the advancement of medical science or surgery; also for the poor who require aid on leaving the Paris hospitals. All the prizes are distributed by the Academy, and the whole sum left amounted to some seven millions of francs, a considerable fortune seventy years ago (1820) when M. de Montyon died. The principal prize, pour l'action la plus vertueuse, generally falls to the lot of some obscure person, who has passed years of self-sacrificing devotion to the old, the sick, or the poor; virtuous actions, in M. de Montyon's opinion, being those unrecorded works of love and charity which are done in simple homes, without excitement or glamour; works which become great because of their very monotony and which prove the patience and unselfishness of the true Christian.
À LA MEMOIRE
D'ANTOINE J. B. ROBERT AUGET DE MONTYON,
BARON DE MONTYON,
CONSEILLER D'ÉTAT,
DONT L'INÉPUISABLE BIENFAISANCE
ET L'INGÉNIEUSE CHARITÉ
ONT ASSURÉ
APRÈS SA MORT, COMME DURANT SA VIE,
DES ENCOURAGEMENTS AUX SCIENCES,
DES RÉCOMPENSES AUX ACTIONS VERTUEUSES,
DES SOULAGEMENTS À TOUTES LES MISÈRES HUMAINES.
NÉ LE 23 DEC. 1733.—MORT LE 29 DEC. 1820.
ICI REPOSE SA DÉPOUILLE MORTELLE
TRANSPORTÉE DE LA COMMUNE DEMEURE DES MORTS
À L'ENTRÉE DE L'ASILE DES PAUVRES, SOUFFRANTS ET SECOURUS,
COMME À SA PLACE LÉGITIME,
PAR LA PIEUSE RECONNAISSANCE.
DE L'AUTORITÉ MUNICIPALE ET DE L'ADMINISTRATION DES HOSPICES
AUXQUELLES SE SONT ASSOCIÉES
L'ACADÉMIE FRANÇAISE ET L'ACADÉMIE DES SCIENCES,
XXVI MAI M.D.CCC.XXXVIII.
M. de Montyon was a remarkable man, in that he refused the exalted office of Keeper of the Seals offered him by Louis XVI., for fear of his moral character deteriorating: "Dites à Sa Majesté que je suis confus de ses bontés. Si je fais un peu de bien dans la place que j'occupe, c'est que je ne suis pas en évidence. En acceptant celle que l'on me propose, je serais exposé à toutes les intrigues, à toutes les cabales de l'envie; je n'aurais peut-être ni le talent ni la force nécessaires pour y résister; dans le doute, je dois m'abstenir."
There is nothing in the present somewhat spick-and-span church to recall its former state in the 6th century. The patron of Nürnberg, of the Escorial, and of Genoa; the young martyr, who from the earliest beginnings of Christian art has been one of its most popular subjects; the saintly deacon, who, as painted by Fra Angelico, charms us by his expression of sweet sanctity, and who, when depicted by the disciples of horrors, makes us shudder and close our eyes—S. Laurence, the deacon, has always been a favourite, and many are the churches dedicated to him. He was a native of Osca or Huesca, in Aragon, and acted as deacon (although a priest) to Sixtus II., bishop of Rome, in the middle of the 3rd century. He had the care of all the precious vessels of the church, and of the money. Times were bad, and Sixtus was denounced as a Christian; then Laurence, following the example of S. Stephen, petitioned the good bishop to allow him to share the captivity. Before Sixtus died he ordered Laurence to distribute all the money and treasure amongst the poor, and predicted his disciple's martyrdom as worse than his own. Laurence went about the city and distributed the alms, which, when the tyrant heard thereof, caused him so much anger that he thrust the deacon into prison, where he converted his gaoler. But the Prefect ordered him to give up his treasure. Then Laurence gathered together the poor and the sick, and presented them to the Prefect; and he being enraged, concocted a new and terrible torture. He made a sort of gridiron bed, upon which the young deacon was laid, and fire being placed underneath, the victim was roasted to death. "Seest thou not, O thou foolish man, being roasted on one side, thou shouldst turn me over, that the other be well cooked," are the words recorded to prove his steadfastness. Then he lifted his eyes to Heaven, and said, "I thank Thee, O my God and Saviour, that I have been found worthy to enter into Thy blessedness"; and so he passed away into bliss, and was buried in the Via Tiburtina.
SAINT-LAURENT.
SAINT-LAURENT.
Grégoire de Tours speaks of a monastery of S. Laurence in Paris; and S. Domnole, bishop of Le Mans, who died in 581, had been previously its abbot. This abbey has long since disappeared, and been lost to memory; and the parish, which since the 13th century has taken its place, became a dependency of the priory of S. Martin. The façade of the present building is no older than 1622; the nave and transept were erected in the 16th, the choir and apse in the 15th century. A niche containing a statue of S. John Baptist is commendable, and some of the details of corbels, gargoyles, cornices, and other exterior decoration are quaint and often grotesque: little beasties jumping about in foliage; small children in fool's caps tumbling about in grotesque attitudes; one little imp being whipped by the schoolmaster; Angels with animal continuations; a hunter shooting arrows at a salamander, and divers other monstrosities.
The interior is cold and uninteresting, the bosses being the best part of the decoration. They are of all manner of devices: S. Nicholas blessing his children; crowns, garlands, Angels' heads; foliage and draperies, and a mass of ornament and little personages—the Virgin and Child, S. John Baptist with his cross, S. Laurence and his gridiron, the scenes from the Passion, and many other conceits.
The apse has been disfigured, after the manner of S. Séverin and S. Germain l'Auxerrois, by Corinthian columns, pilasters, monograms, and trophies—the work of Lepautre. The jubé has gone, and divers other Gothic "excrescences," and the church remains a grand example of the last century barbarism. Well has Victor Hugo described those gentlemen, so-called artists, who fell down and worshipped Fashion, as set by its 18th century votaries: "Les modes ont fait plus de mal que les révolutions. Elles ont tranché dans le vif, elles ont attaqué la charpente osseuse de l'art; elles ont coupé, taillé, désorganisé l'édifice, dans la forme comme dans le symbole, dans sa logique comme dans sa beauté. Et puis, elles ont refait; prétention que n'avaient eue, du moins, ni le temps, ni les révolutions. Elles ont effrontément ajusté, de par le bon goût, sur les blessures de l'architecture Gothique leurs misérables colifichets d'un jour, leurs rubans de marbre, leurs pompons de métal: véritable lèpre d'oves, de volutes, d'entournements, de draperies, de guirlandes, de franges, de flammes, de pierre, de nuages, de bronze, d'amours replets, de chérubins bouffis, qui commence à dévorer la face de l'art dans l'oratoire de Catherine de Médicis, et le fait expirer, deux siècles après, tourmenté et grimaçant, dans le boudoir de la Dubarry."
About the year 600, the town of Sens was besieged by Clotaire's general, Blidebodes, and grievous was the pain and suffering to which the inhabitants were subjected. But the bishop, Lupus,[99] Leu, or Loup was a holy man, and while the warriors fought he passed his time in prayer. Then he bethought him of a little stratagem. Ostensibly for the object of collecting the citizens for prayer, he set to, and vigorously pulled the church bell. The crowd rushed from all parts of the town, and following the example of their spiritual father, they threw themselves on their knees. Presently came the news that the siege was raised; at the sound of the bell, the enemy had fled precipitately. This, all but miracle, may be accounted for by the fact that bells were first introduced into France about this time (615); and if Clotaire's soldiers, coming from the north and west, had never heard any before, they may have felt much the same sort of terror as was said to have been instilled into the natives during the Ashantee war by the Scottish bagpipes.
Considering that the church has two patrons, it ought surely to be in some way remarkable; but the fact is, it is a very insignificant little building, and devoid of beauty of any kind. It formerly belonged to the Abbey of S. Magloire from which it was separated by only a small space of ground; the abbey having been situated in the Rue S. Denis, and the church in what is now the Boulevard Sebastopol. The latter must have been built in the 13th century, as the abbé Lebeuf found a notice in the archives of S. Magloire to the effect that some little bells had been placed in S. Leu. The church has been so repaired, so cut about (the east end was lopped off when the new boulevard was pierced); it has been so mutilated and travestied, that little remains of the old building. Some of the bosses are elegantly and curiously carved. We see S. Giles and his hind, and S. Loup in episcopal vestments; the 17th century marble bas-reliefs illustrating the Passion; quaint emaciated bodies and large heads are the characteristics of the crowd.
In one of the chapels, the first on the south, is a curious picture commemorating a terrible event, which led to a miracle. The inscription reads thus:
CETTE IMAGE A ESTÉ FAITE L'AN 1772
The picture represents the Virgin and Child sitting under an elegant baldachino, the curtains of which are borne by Angels, who are holding, at the same time, a crown over the head of the holy mother. The following description by Père Du Breul[100] gives the story of the miracle:
"Le troisième du mois de juillet 1418, veille de sainct Martin,[101] Bouillant, un soldat ou goujat sortant d'une taverne qui estoit dès lors en la rue aux Ours, désespéré d'avoir perdu tout son argent et ses habits à jouer, jurant et blasphémant, frappa furieusement d'un couteau une image de la Vierge Marie qui estoit au coin de ladite rue. Laquelle image rendit du sang en abondance; de quoy estant advertie la justice, il fut mené par devant l'image, fut frappé d'escourgées depuis six heures du matin jusques au soir, tant que les entrailles luy sortoient, et eut la langue percée d'un fer chaud. Au mesme lieu, tous les ans et à tel jour, on fait un feu pour souvenance de ce miracle.... Audit lieu se voit encores une image de Nostre Dame enfermée d'un treillis, auprès de laquelle, contre la parvy, le jour que ce faict ledit feu, l'on attache une tapisserie où est représenté l'histoire susdite."
Horrors of this kind were common enough in the 14th and 15th centuries; indeed, when we think of Damiens' tortures, even the 18th century was no more humane or decent. In the account of the Black Death in 1348, when 500 persons were buried daily, and Jews were tortured and burnt for poisoning the people (as the populace affirmed), an order of Philippe IV. was issued that all blasphemers should have their lips or tongues cut off, as a sanitary measure to dispel the plague. It is curious that such doings should be commemorated in a church dedicated to S. Giles, that gentle hermit who screened the wounded hind from its pursuers, and gave an eternal reproof to the votaries of the hunt. One can imagine what the hermit-Saint would have thought of thus torturing a man, being not only the protector of hunted animals and woodlands, but also of those specimens of human misery, the lepers. Yet for many years the hideous cruelty described above was celebrated as a sort of Guy Fawkes festival, with fireworks, and mannikins of gigantic size, which were marched about the neighbourhood to the terror of all the youthful inhabitants.
Little need be said of the church which formerly belonged to the Capuchins who were transferred from the Faubourg S. Jacques to the new quarter of the Rue d'Antin in 1783. The church was built by Brongniard, but is of no importance whatever. It now forms a part of the Lycée for those connected therewith who do not find science and literature all that is requisite to their souls' weal.
This church stands upon the little island of the same name, and was commenced by Louis Levau in 1664; Gabriel Leduc continued the work, and Jacques Doucet finished it in 1726. Men are said to be happy if they are minus a history. Not so churches; without it they are anything but interesting. And so we will pass on from the second S. Louis, just noting some of the modern woodwork as respectable.
Built by Libéral Bruant from 1671 to 1679, this church has a certain grandeur, and could the dome be seen from it by taking away the intervening partition of ugly painted glass, it would be very imposing. The latter, the burial-place of Napoleon and of some of his generals, contains also monuments and statues of other military heroes. This part, the cupola (or Tombeau as it is generally termed), was built by Jules Hardouin Mansard, and dedicated by the Cardinal de Noailles in 1706. The exterior is very fine, and, with its gilding, forms a beautiful landmark for all parts of the city and suburbs. The interior, if somewhat pompous, and over addicted to yellow glass, is nevertheless very grand; and the general effect of the magnificent baldachino over the altar (just such an arrangement as was wanted in S. Paul's), and the subdued light, make a decidedly striking coup d'œil.
LE TOMBEAU DE NAPOLÉON.
LE TOMBEAU DE NAPOLÉON.
The statues of Charlemagne and of S. Louis are by Coyzevox and Nicolas Coustou; the cupola was painted by Charles de Lafosse and by Jouvenet. The statue of Turenne, which has at last found a resting-place, after having been shunted about since its departure from S. Denis, is the work of Tuby and Marsy. In the centre, under the beautiful dome, is Napoleon's tomb, sunk some feet below the surface.
In the chapel proper are rows of flags of all nations suspended from each side of the roof; but beyond these there is little that is picturesque except during the military mass on Sunday morning. Then, when the pensioners line the aisle, bearing their swords and halberds; when the drums beat at the Elevation, and the old men present arms, the effect is both grand and intensely pathetic. Formerly the military band played throughout the offices; now the duty is done by the organ.
If good materials and excellent workmanship can make a building interesting, assuredly the Madeleine ought to be so. Commenced in 1764 as a church, its fate was somewhat similar to that of S. Geneviève, for, in 1806, Napoleon, then busy in Posen, sent his orders that it should be finished as a Temple of Glory. The pediment was to bear the following inscription:—"L'empereur Napoléon aux soldats de la grande armée;" and the 5th article of the decree was thus composed: "Tous les ans, aux anniversaires des batailles d'Austerlitz et d'Iéna, le monument sera illuminé, et il y sera donné un concert précédé d'un discours sur les vertus necessaires au soldat, et d'un éloge de ceux qui périrent sur le champ de bataille dans ces journées memorables.... Dans les discours et odes, il est expressément défendu de faire mention de l'empereur."
Pierre Vignon carried on the work, and the building grew into a magnificent temple, planned upon the Maison Carrée of Nismes. The results of Waterloo turned it again church ways, but it was not finished until 1842. The bronze doors are perhaps the best work of Baron de Triqueti; and the group of the Magdalen over the altar may be no more mundane and meretricious than is usual in Marochetti's performances. The picture in the vault over the altar is a jumble by Ziegler of sacred and secular personages, from the Magdalen and her Master down to Napoleon the arrogant. It is supposed to be an allegory of the history of Christianity, which Clovis introduced to France, and Napoleon patted on the back by means of the Concordat. The most important position in the picture is occupied by the last-named brigand—the poor Pope even being in a secondary place, somewhat inferior to the imperial eagle. The group in the baptistry is by Rude; the one opposite, in a chapel dedicated to marriage, by Pradier. It was in the Madeleine that some of the Communards were massacred in 1871. At the end of the struggle, about 300 of them were driven into the church; and there, before the altar where their victim, the abbé Duguerry had officiated, they were mown down in terrible retribution, with no more mercy shown them than they had accorded to the hostages.
In the interior fittings of the church, no expense has been spared, and what it lacks in beauty as regards sculpture and painting it possesses in its marble walls and its carved woodwork. The pulpit is an excellent piece of modern wood-carving; the details of the ornament are in the best style; and so are most of the worshippers; for it is one of the fashionable churches of Paris. There, especially at the lazy mass (as the old writer has it, "la messe des paresseux," which was said at "la plus haute heure du matin," at "unze heures,") you see "des mondaines" by the dozen; only the lazy eleven o'clock has become one in the afternoon. What in the world would the old chronicler have said to the swarms of fashionables who just save their souls by hurrying off after a comfortable déjeuner to those one o'clock masses? But there is a mixture at the Madeleine; old ladies of the noblesse; nouveaux riches; a few soldiers who like the music; half-a-dozen husbands who go as a duty to their wives; an old Bretonne gorgeous in chains and muslin, and velvet bodice; and two or three black women, charming in the yellow silk handkerchiefs which swathe their heads. It is a mixture, and what brings them? Probably the music, for at no church in Paris, and few elsewhere, do you hear such refined, soft, emotional strains as there. Sometimes the boys' voices are not of the best; but the artistic taste with which they sing is always there. S. Roch has a reputation for its choir, gained many years ago by its execution of the masses of Mozart and Haydn; but it no longer deserves it. S. Eustache also is celebrated for its music. But there is a special tone about that of the Madeleine one meets with nowhere else; it aims at raising one's soul from the earth upon which it is supposed to grovel; it certainly never interrupts prayer or disturbs thought. Even on Good Friday, when the old Passione by Haydn, or the new one by Dubois, is performed, refinement, not clatter, is the distinguishing characteristic. If only some of our London organists would take a leaf out of the Madeleine music-book! Just think of the noise at a certain West-end church, which is the model of all that ritual should be. From its foundation, what we all loved was the refinement of its music; it was the exponent of Gregorian chants and Plain song. Now the most elaborate compositions are performed for the edification and vanity of the choir. Church music ought certainly to be an aid to prayer, not a disturbing force; but what else can it be, when organ and choir are all shrieking Haydn's Imperial Mass, or Beethoven in C, and each man or boy is trying to get the mastery? It is a bitter duel between organ and voices. All the great masters' masses are sung at the Madeleine; but you can devote yourself to your own prayers all through them without being disturbed, if you so wish. Moreover, one hour suffices in Paris for what in London endures an hour and a half, or more. And is not the long, elaborate credo answerable for the objectionable Roman practice of sitting through the greater part of it? Of course church music should be of the most perfect kind; but perfection is sure to be greater where less is attempted; and the mere repetitions of words, and the placing of the accent upon the wrong note in the English translation, make these elaborate masses unsuitable in our churches.
The ceremonial at the Madeleine always gives strangers the impression of having been over-rehearsed. The black-clothed beadles walk about with measured steps, particularly the frog faced one; the Suisses in their cocked hats leisurely saunter about with their halberds looking the essence of flunkeyism, and never issue from their stereotyped expression of importance and unmixed boredom, except upon occasions when a foreigner fails to kneel at solemn moments. Why need the good Protestant remain sitting when the bell rings, feigning a kneeling posture by a sort of zigzag attitude? Up comes the Suisse, and shaking the back of his chair, tries to jerk him out of it. Why not stand, if rags of popery and scarlet women prevent you kneeling? Or why go at all, if you cannot do at Rome as Rome does? I confess to feeling a sensation of distress, and am much upset when that chair-tipping begins. And the worst of if is that, although the victim is innocent of what lies in store for him, we, who know the ways of the Suisses, anxiously anticipate the fatal moment. Sometimes, too, the British-born struggles to look pious, while he furtively reads his Baedeker, never dreaming that the benighted foreigner knows that Classic by its blood-red exterior. We are a great people, and are justly proud of our institutions; but we should be no less great if we had a little more respect for other folks, and other folks' manners and customs.
It is curious how the church beadle varies. At the Madeleine he is pure flunkey. His cocked hat is high and broad, like the old Bumble of our childhood; he is whiskered, but not bearded; he has an arrogant way with him as he precedes the priest who makes the collection; and as he carries the bag into which the alms are emptied from time to time, he looks the essence of important officialism. Likewise, when he demands, in a commanding voice, "Pour les pauvres, s'il vous plait!" few persons would say him nay. Not so the Suisses of S. Eustache; they have the military air; the cocked hat is low, and worn as by the Marshals of France. Such are they also at S. Roch, and at both churches they salute at the Elevation, à la militaire.
It has always seemed to me that the author of Monsieur, Madame et Bébé, pictured the Madeleine in his scenes of Madame at church; at all events I have often seen the like. She kneels on her velvet-covered prie-Dieu, and tells her beads; and then, between a Pater Noster and a new batch of Ave Marias, she turns round to a neighbour, "Ah! chère madame, comment allez vous? et monsieur votre mari? Et la chère petite Bébé?" "Merci, chère baronne, mon mari ne va pas trop mal; il a la migraine, voilà tout. Et Bébé, c'est un ange; elle est ravissante, le petit chou. Mais moi, je souffre, oh, comme je souffre! je suis tellement éreintée que.... Je vous salue Marie, pleine de grâce.".... "How adorable is the Madeleine," said Dibden; but he meant its exterior at twilight, when the lights spring up on the neighbouring boulevards. And so it is in its way; but its way is to some of us not the most beautiful way.
Many are the functions which take place there; marriages and funerals by the score. At the latter, it affords ample room under its portico for that terrible French custom which forces all the family of the deceased to stand by the door and receive the condolences of their friends and acquaintances. How do they ever survive it? And why do they not rebel against the conventionality, and give it up? Because they are at once the most conventional of nations, added to the most revolutionary. The funeral terror is greater in France that here at home; it is one of the few things in which we are ahead of our neighbours. We do not waste quite so much upon putting our friends underground, although we too are compelled to pay twice as much as we ought. But in some respects the French are far more decent. Men raise their hats at passing funerals, and I have never seen the undertakers sitting in the open car when returning from the cemetery; an indecent proceeding like the one immortalized in Figaro. "Mon Dieu! What strange people, ces Anglais! When they return from a funeral, the friends of the deceased ride upon the top of the hearse with their legs hanging over it!"
One of the beauties of the Madeleine is the flower-garden at its feet, and the tree-planted boulevards which surround it. How pleasant it is to be able to sit down in the air upon a warm evening; would that we could do likewise! Here, sunset is the last moment when we can breathe the air of most of the parks, without perpetually tramping round and round upon our weary legs. But in Paris we may sit and gaze upon the buildings by moonlight if we like; and certainly, that is the most flattering time for the Madeleine. Its portico, lighted up by the moon with the dark shadows thrown behind it, has a decidedly grand appearance.
The church, dedicated to