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Paris As It Was and As It Is

F >> Francis W. Blagdon >> Paris As It Was and As It Is




Nothing can paint the vicissitude of human events in colours more
striking than the transitions of this critical period. Dumas who made
this proposal, and had partially satisfied his merciless disposition
by signing, a few hours before, the death-warrant of sixty victims,
was the very next day brought before the same tribunal, composed of
his accomplices, or rather his creatures, and by them condemned to
die. Thus did experience confirm the general observation, that the
multiplicity and enormity of punishments announces an approaching
revolution. The torrents of blood which tyrants shed, are, in the
end, swelled by their own.

In lieu of a tribunal of blood, the _Palais de Justice_ is now
appropriated to the sittings of the three tribunals, designated by
the following titles: _Tribunal de cassation_, _Tribunal d'appel_,
and _Tribunal de première instance_. The first of these, the
_Tribunal de cassation_, occupies the audience-chambers of the late
parliament; while the _grande chambre_ is appointed for the meetings
of its united Sections. The decoration of this spacious apartment is
entirely changed: it is embellished in the antique style; and a
person in contemplating it might fancy himself at Athens.

Adjoining to the _Palais de Justice_, is the famous prison, so
dreaded in the early periods of the revolution, called

LA CONCIERGERIE.

From this fatal abode, neither talent, virtue, nor patriotism could,
at one time, secure those who possessed such enviable qualities.
Lavoisier, Malsherbes, Condorcet, &c. were here successively immured,
previously to being sent to the guillotine. Here too the unfortunate
Marie-Antoinette lived in a comfortless manner, from the 2nd of July,
1793, to the 13th of October following, the period of her
condemnation.

On being reconducted to the prison, at four o'clock in the morning,
after hearing her sentence read, the hapless queen displayed a
fortitude worthy of the daughter of the high-minded Maria Theresa.
She requested a few hours' respite, to compose her mind, and
entreated to be left to herself in the room which she had till then
occupied. The moment she was alone, she first cut off her hair, and
then laying aside her widow's weeds, which she had always worn since
the death of the king, put on a white dress, and threw herself on her
bed, where she slept till eleven o'clock the same morning, when she
was awakened, in order to be taken to the scaffold.

Continuing to cross the _Ile du Palais_ in a direction towards the
south, we presently reach the

PONT ST. MICHEL.

This bridge stands in a direct line with the _Pont au Change_, and is
situated on the south channel of the river. It was formerly of wood:
but having been frequently destroyed, it was rebuilt with stone in
1618, and covered on both sides with houses. From the _Pont Neuf_,
the back of these buildings has a most disagreeable and filthy
appearance. It is said that they are to be taken down, as those have
been which stood on the other bridges.

In severe winters, when there is much ice in the river, it is
curious, on the breaking up of the frost, to behold families
deserting their habitations, like so many rats, and carrying with
them their valuables, from the apprehension that these crazy
tenements might fall into the river. This wise precaution is
suggested by the knowledge of these bridges, when built of wood,
having been often swept away by ice or great inundations.

The _Pont St. Michel_ consists of four arches. Its length is two
hundred and sixty-eight feet, by sixty in breadth, including the
houses, between which is a passage for three carriages.

If, to avoid being entangled in narrow, dirty streets, we return, by
the same route, to the north bank of the Seine, and proceed to the
westward, along the _Quai de Gévres_, which is partly built on piles,
driven into the bed of the river, we shall come to the

PONT NOTRE-DAME.

A wooden bridge, which previously existed here, having been
frequently carried away by inundations, Lewis XII ordered the
construction of the present one of stone, which was begun in 1499,
and completed in 1507. It was built from the plan of one JOCONDE, a
Cordelier, and native of Verona, and is generally admired for the
solidity, as well as beauty of its architecture. It consists of six
arches, and is two hundred and seventy-six feet in length. Formerly
it was bordered by houses, which were taken down in 1786: this has
rendered the quarter more airy, and consequently more salubrious.

It was on this bridge that the Pope's Legate reviewed the
ecclesiastical infantry of the League, on the the 3d of June, 1590.
Capuchins, Minimes, Cordeliers, Jacobins or Dominicans, Feuillans,
&c. all with their robe tucked up, their cowl thrown behind, a helmet
on their head, a coat of mail on their body, a sword by their side,
and a musquet on their shoulder, marched four by four, headed by the
reverend bishop of Senlis, bearing a spontoon. But some of this holy
soldiery, forgetting that their pieces were loaded with ball, wished
to salute the Legate, and killed by his side one of his chaplains.
His Eminence finding that it began to grow hot at this review,
hastened to give his benediction, and vanished.


_December 18, in continuation_.

Traversing once more two-thirds of the _Ile du Palais_ in a direction
from north to south, and then striking off to the east, up the _Rue
de Callandre_, we reach the

CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE-DAME.

This church, the first ever built in Paris, was begun about the year
375, under the reign of the emperor Valentinian I. It was then called
_St. Etienne_ or _St. Stephen's_, and there was as yet no other
within the walls of this city in 1522, when Childebert, son of
Clovis, repaired and enlarged it, adding to it a new basilic, which
was dedicated to _Notre Dame_ or Our Lady.

More anciently, under Tiberius, there had been, on the same spot, an
altar in the open air, dedicated to Jupiter and other pagan gods,
part of which is still in being at the MUSEUM OF FRENCH MONUMENTS, in
the _Rue des Petits Augustins_.

These two churches existed till about the year 1160, under the reign
of Lewis the Young, when the construction of the present cathedral
was begun partly on their foundations. It was not finished till 1185,
during the reign of Philip Augustus.

This Gothic Church is one of the handsomest and most spacious in
France. It has a majestic and venerable appearance, and is supported
by one hundred and twenty clustered columns. Its length is three
hundred and ninety feet by one hundred and forty-four in breadth, and
one hundred and two in height.

We must not expect to find standing here the twenty-six kings,
benefactors of this church, from Childeric I to Philip Augustus,
fourteen feet high, who figured on the same line, above the three
doors of the principal façade. They have all fallen under the blows
of the iconoclasts, and are now piled up behind the church. There lie
round-bellied Charlemagne, with his pipe in his mouth, and Pepin the
Short, with his sword in his hand, and a lion, the emblem of courage,
under his feet. The latter, like Tydeus, mentioned in the Iliad,
though small in stature, was stout in heart, as appears from the
following anecdote related of him by the monk of St. Gal.

In former times, as is well known, kings took a delight in setting
wild beasts and ferocious animals to fight against each other. At one
of thege fights, between a lion and a bull, in the abbey of
Ferrières, Pepin the Short, who knew that some noblemen were daily
exercising their pleasantry on his small stature, addressed to them
this question: "Which of you feels himself bold enough to kill or
separate those terrible animals?" Seeing that not one of them stepped
forward, and that the proposal alone made them shudder: "Well," added
he, "'tis I then who will perform the feat." He accordingly descended
from his place, drew his sword, killed the lion, at another stroke
cut off the head of the bull, and then looking fiercely at the
railers: "Know," said he to them, "that stature adds nothing to
courage, and that I shall find means to bring to the ground the proud
persons who shall dare to despise me, as little David laid low the
great giant Goliah." Hence the attribute given to the statue of king
Pepin, which not long since adorned the façade of _Notre-Dame_.

The groups of angels, saints, and patriarchs, which, no doubt, owe
their present existence only to their great number, still present to
the eye of the observer that burlesque mixture of the profane and
religious, so common in the symbolical representations of the twelfth
century. These figures adorn the triple row of indented borders of
the arches of the three doors.

Two enormous square towers, each two hundred and two feet in height,
and terminated by a platform, decorate each end of the cathedral. The
ascent to them is by a winding staircase of three hundred and
eighty-nine steps, and their communication is by a gallery which
has no support but Gothic pillars of a lightness that excites
admiration.

Independently of the six bells, which have disappeared with the
little belfry that contained them, in the two towers were ten, one of
which weighed forty-four thousand pounds.

At the foot of the north tower is the rural calendar or zodiac, which
has been described by M. Le Gentil, member of the Academy of
Sciences. The Goths had borrowed from the Indians this custom of thus
representing rustic labours at the entrance of their temples.

Another Gothic bas-relief, which is seen on the left, in entering by
the great door, undoubtedly represents that condemned soul who,
tradition says, rose from his bier, during divine service, in order
to pronounce his own damnation.

None of the forty-five chapels have preserved the smallest vestige of
their ornaments. Those which escaped the destructive rage of the
modern Vandals, have been transported to the MUSEUM OF FRENCH
MONUMENTS. The most remarkable are the statue of Pierre de Gondi,
archbishop of Paris, the mausoleum of the Conte d'Harcourt, designed
by his widow, the modern Artemisia, and executed by Pigalle, together
with the group representing the vow of St. Lewis, by Costou the
elder. Six angels in bronze, which were seen at the further end of
the choir, have also been removed thither.

The stalls present, in square and oval compartments, bas-reliefs very
delicately sculptured, representing subjects taken from the life of
the Holy Virgin and from the New Testament. Of the two episcopal
pulpits, which are at the further end, the one, that of the
archbishop, represents the martyrdom of St. Denis; the other,
opposite, the cure of king Childebert, by the intercession of St.
Germain.

Some old tapestry, hung scantily round the choir, makes one regret
the handsome iron railing, so richly wrought, by which it was
inclosed, and some valuable pictures, which now figure in the grand
Gallery of the CENTRAL MUSEUM OF THE ARTS.

The nave, quite as naked as the choir and the sanctuary, had been
enriched, as far as the space would admit, with pictures, twelve feet
high, given for a long time, on every first of May, by the
Goldsmiths' company and the fraternity of St. Anne and St. Marcel.

On the last pillar of the nave, on the right, was the equestrian
statue of Philip of Valois. That king was here represented on
horseback, with his vizor down, sword in hand, and armed cap-à-pié,
in the very manner in which he rode into the cathedral of
_Notre-Dame_, in 1328, after the battle of Cassel. At the foot of
the altar he left his horse, together with his armour, which he had
worn in the battle, as an offering to the Holy Virgin, after having
returned thanks to God and to her, say historians, for the victory
he had obtained through her intercession.

Above the lateral alleys, as well of the choir as of the nave, are
large galleries, separated by little pillars of a single piece, and
bordered by iron balustrades. Here spectators place themselves to see
grand ceremonies. From their balconies were formerly suspended the
colours taken from the enemy: these are now displayed in the _Temple
of Mars_ at the HÔTEL DES INVALIDES.

The organ, which appears to have suffered no injury, is reckoned one
of the loudest and most complete in France. It is related that
Daquin, an incomparable organist, who died in 1781, once imitated the
nightingale on it so perfectly, that the beadle was sent on the roof
of the church, to endeavour to discover the musical bird.

Some of the stained glass is beautiful. Two roses, restored to their
original state, the one on the side of the archipiscopal palace in
1726, and the other above the organ, in 1780, prove by their lustre,
that the moderns are not so inferior to the ancients, in the art of
painting on glass, as is commonly imagined.

Should your curiosity lead you to contemplate the house of Fulbert,
the canon, the supposed uncle to the tender Héloïse, where that
celebrated woman passed her youthful days, you must enter, by the
cloister of _Notre-Dame_, into the street that leads to the _Pont
Rouge_, since removed. It is the last house on the right under the
arcade, and is easily distinguished by two medallions in stone,
preserved on the façade, though it has been several times rebuilt
during the space of six hundred years. All the authors who have
written on the antiquities of Paris, speak of these medallions as
being real portraits of Abélard and Héloïse. It is presumable that
they were so originally; but, without being a connoisseur, any one
may discover that the dresses of these figures are far more modern
than those peculiar to the twelfth century; whence it may be
concluded that the original portraits having been destroyed by time,
or by the alterations which the house has undergone, these busts have
been executed by some more modern sculptor of no great talents.

Leaving the cathedral, by the _Rue Notre-Dame_, and turning to the
left, on reaching the _Marché Palu_, we come to the

PETIT PONT.

Like the _Pont St. Michel_, this bridge is situated on the south
channel of the river, and stands in a direct line with the _Pont
Notre-Dame_. It originally owed its construction to the following
circumstance.

Four Jews, accused of having killed one of their converted brethren,
were condemned to be publicly whipped through all the streets of the
city, on four successive Sundays. After having suffered the half of
their sentence, to redeem themselves from the other half, they paid
18,000 francs of gold. This sum was appropriated to the erection of
the _Petit Pont_, the first stone of which was laid by Charles VI, in
1395.

In 1718, two barges, loaded with hay, caught fire, and being cut
loose, drifted under the arches of this bridge, which, in the space
of four hours, was consumed, together with the houses standing on it.
The following year it was rebuilt, but without houses.

Proceeding to the east, along the quays of the _Ile du Palais_, you
will find the

PONT AU DOUBLE.

This little bridge, situated behind the _Hôtel-Dieu_, of which I
shall speak hereafter, is destined for foot-passengers only, as was
the _Pont Rouge_. The latter was the point of communication between
the _Cité_ and the _Ile St. Louis_; but the frequent reparations
which it required, occasioned it to be removed in 1791, though, by
the Plan of Paris, it still appears to be in existence. However, it
is in contemplation to replace it by another of stone.[1]

Supposing that you have regained the north bank of the Seine, by
means of the _Pont Notre-Dame_, you follow the quays, which skirt
that shore, till you reach the

PONT MARIE.

This bridge forms a communication between the _Port St. Paul_ and the
_Ile St. Louis_. The _Pont Marie_ was named after the engineer who
engaged with Henry IV to build it; but that prince having been
assassinated; the young king, Lewis XIII, and the queen dowager, laid
the first stone in 1614: it was finished, and bordered with houses,
in 1635. It consists of five arches. Its length is three hundred feet
by sixty-two in breadth. An inundation having carried away two of the
arches, in 1658, they were repaired without the addition of houses,
and in 1789, the others were removed.

Passing through the _Rue des Deux Ponts_, which lies in a direct line
with the _Pont Marie_, we arrive at the

PONT DE LA TOURNELLE.

This bridge takes its name from the _Château de la Tournelle_,
contiguous to the _Porte St. Bernard_, where the galley-slaves used
formerly to be lodged, till they were sent off to the different
public works. It consists of six arches of solid construction, and is
bordered on each side by a foot-pavement.

You are now acquainted with all the bridges in Paris; but should you
prefer crossing the Seine in a boat, there are several ferries
between the bridges, and at other convenient places. Here, you may
always meet with a waterman, who, for the sum of one _sou_, will
carry you over, whether master or lackey. Like the old ferryman
Charon, he makes no distinction of persons.

[Footnote 1: Workmen are, at this moment, employed in the
construction of three new bridges. The first, already mentioned, will
form a communication between the _ci-devant Collège des Quatre
Nations_ and the _Louvre_; the second, between the _Ile du Palais_
and the _Ile St. Louis_; and the third, between the _Jardin des
Plantes_ and the Arsenal.]



LETTER XXXVI.

_Paris, December 20, 1801._

What a charming abode is Paris, for a man who can afford to live at
the rate of a thousand or fifteen hundred pounds a year! Pleasures
wait not for him to go in quest of them; they come to him of their
own accord; they spring up, in a manner, under his very feet, and
form around him an officious retinue. Every moment of the day can
present a new gratification to him who knows how to enjoy it; and,
with prudent management, the longest life even would not easily
exhaust so ample a stock.

Paris has long been termed an epitome of the world. But, perhaps,
never could this denomination be applied to it with so much propriety
as at the present moment. The chances of war have not only rendered
it the centre of the fine arts, the museum of the most celebrated
masterpieces in existence, the emporium where the luxury of Europe
comes to procure its superfluities; but the taste for pleasure has
also found means to assemble here all the enjoyments which Nature
seemed to have exclusively appropriated to other climates.

Every country has its charms and advantages. Paris alone appears to
combine them all. Every region, every corner of the globe seems to
vie in hastening to forward hither the tribute of its productions.
Are you an epicure? No delicacy of the table but may be eaten in
Paris.--Are you a toper? No delicious wine but may be drunk, in
Paris.--Are you fond of frequenting places of public entertainment?
No sort of spectacle but may be seen in Paris.--Are you desirous of
improving your mind? No kind of instruction but may be acquired in
Paris.--Are you an admirer of the fair sex? No description of female
beauty but may be obtained in Paris.--Are you partial to the society
of men of extraordinary talents? No great genius but comes to display
his knowledge in Paris.--Are you inclined to discuss military topics?
No hero but brings his laurels to Paris.--In a word, every person,
favoured by Nature or Fortune, flies to enjoy the gifts of either in
Paris. Even every place celebrated in the annals of voluptuousness,
is, as it were, reproduced in Paris, which, in some shape or another,
presents its name or image.

Without going out of this capital, you may, in the season when Nature
puts on her verdant livery, visit _Idalium_, present your incense to
the Graces, and adore, in her temple, the queen of love; while at
_Tivoli_, you may, perhaps, find as many beauties and charms as were
formerly admired at the enchanting spot on the banks of the Anio,
which, under its ancient name of _Tibur_, was so extolled by the
Latin poets; and close to the Boulevard, at _Frascati_, you may, in
that gay season, eat ices as good as those with which Cardinal de
Bernis used to regale his visiters, at his charming villa in the
_Campagna di Roma_. Who therefore need travel farther than Paris to
enjoy every gratification?

If then, towards the close of a war, the most frightful and
destructive that ever was waged, the useful and agreeable seem to
have proceeded here hand in hand in improvement, what may not be
expected in the tranquillity of a few years' peace? Who knows but the
emperor Julian's "_dear Lutetia_" may one day vie in splendour with
Thebes and its hundred gates, or ancient Rome covering its seven
mountains?

However, if _Tivoli_ and _Frascati_ throw open their delightful
recesses to the votaries of pleasure only in spring and summer, even
now, during the fogs of December, you may repair to

PAPHOS.

It might almost be said that you enter this place of amusement
gratis, for, though a slight tribute of seventy-five _centimes_
(_circa_ seven-pence halfpenny sterling) is required for the
admission of every person, yet you may take refreshment to the amount
of that sum, without again putting your hand into your pocket;
because the counter mark, given at the door, is received at the bar
as ready-money.

This speculation, the first of the kind in France, and one of the
most specious, is, by all accounts, also one of the most productive.
It would be too rigorous, no doubt, to compare the frequenters of the
modern PAPHOS to the inhabitants of the ancient. Here, indeed, you
must neither look for _élégantes_, nor _muscadins_; but you may view
belles, less gifted by Fortune, indulging in innocent recreation; and
for a while dispelling their cares, by dancing to the exhilarating
music of an orchestra not ill composed. Here, the grisette banishes
the _ennui_ of six days' application to the labours of her industry,
by footing it away on Sunday. Hither, in short, the less refined sons
and daughters of mirth repair to see and be seen, and to partake of
the general diversion.

PAPHOS is situated on that part of the Boulevard, called the
_Boulevard du Temple_, whither I was led the other evening by that
sort of curiosity, which can be satisfied only when the objects that
afford it aliment are exhausted. I had just come out of another place
of public amusement, at no great distance, called

LA PHANTASMAGORIE.

This is an exhibition in the _Cour des Capucines_, adjoining to the
Boulevard, where ROBERTSON, a skilful professor of physics, amuses or
terrifies his audience by the appearance of spectres, phantoms, &c.
In the piece which I saw, called _Le Tombeau de Robespierre_, he
carries illusion to an extraordinary degree of refinement. His
cabinet of physics is rich, and his effects of optics are managed in
the true style of French gallantry. His experiments of galvanism
excite admiration. He repeats the difficult ones of M. VOLTA, and
clearly demonstrates the electrical phenomena presented by the
metallic pile. A hundred disks of silver and a hundred pieces of zinc
are sufficient for him to produce attractions, sparks, the divergency
of the electrometer, and electric hail. He charges a hundred Leyden
bottles by the simple contact of the metallic pile. ROBERTSON, I
understand, is the first who has made these experiments in Paris, and
has succeeded in discharging VOLTA's pistol by the galvanic spark.

FITZJAMES, a famous ventriloquist, entertains and astonishes the
company by a display of his powers, which are truly surprising.

You may, perhaps, be desirous to procure your family circle the
satisfaction of enjoying the _Phantasmagoria_, though not on the
grand scale on which it is exhibited by ROBERTSON. By the
communication of a friend, I am happy in being enabled to make you
master of the secret, as nothing can be more useful in the education
of children than to banish from their mind the deceitful illusion of
ghosts and hobgoblins, which they are so apt to imbibe from their
nurses. But to the point--"You have," says my author, "only to call
in the first itinerant foreigner, who perambulates the streets with a
_galantee-show_ (as it is commonly termed in London), and by
imparting to him your wish, if he is not deficient in intelligence
and skill, he will soon be able to give you a rehearsal of the
apparition of phantoms: for, by approaching or withdrawing the stand
of his show, and finding the focus of his glasses, you will see the
objects diminish or enlarge either on the white wall, or the sheet
that is extended.

"The illusion which leads us to imagine that an object which
increases in all its parts, is advancing towards us, is the basis of
the _Phantasmagoria_, and, in order to produce it with the
_galantee-show_, you have only to withdraw slowly the lantern from
the place on which the image is represented, by approaching the outer
lens to that on which the object is traced: this is easily done, that
glass being fixed in a moveable tube like that of an opera-glass.
As for approaching the lantern gradually, it may be effected with the
same facility, by placing it on a little table with castors, and, by
means of a very simple mechanism, it is evident that both these
movements may be executed together in suitable progression.

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