The churches have not changed greatly in all this time, except that they had some narrow escapes during the Franco-Prussian War, and still narrower ones during the Commune. It may be remarked here _en pa.s.sant_ that, for the first time in seventy years, so say the records, there has just been taken down the scaffolding which, in one part or another, has surrounded the church of St. Eustache. Here, then, is something tangible which has not changed until recently (March, 1904), since the days when Dumas first came to Paris.

The Paris of the nineteenth century is, as might naturally be inferred, that of which the most is known; the eighteenth and seventeenth are indeed difficult to follow with accuracy as to the exact locale of their events; but the sixteenth looms up--curiously enough--more plainly than either of the two centuries which followed. The histories, and even the guide-books, will explain why this is so, so it shall have no place here.

Order, of a sort, immediately came forth from out the chaos of the Revolution. The great Napoleon began the process, and, in a way, it was continued by the plebeian Louis-Philippe, elaborated in the Second Empire, and perfected--if a great capital such as Paris ever really is perfected--under the Third Republic.

Improvement and demolition--which is not always improvement--still go on, and such of Old Paris as is not preserved by special effort is fast falling before the stride of progress.

A body was organized in 1897, under the name of the "_Commission du Vieux Paris_," which is expected to do much good work in the preservation of the chronicles in stone of days long past.

The very streets are noisy with the echo of an unpeaceful past; and their frequent and unexpected turnings, even in these modern days, are suggestive of their history in a most graphic manner.

The square in front of the Fontaine des Innocents is but an ancient burial-ground; before the Hotel de Ville came Etienne Marcel; and Charlemagne to the cathedral; the Place de la Concorde was the death-bed of the Girondins, and the Place de la Madeleine the tomb of the Capetians; and thus it is that Paris--as does no other city--mingles its centuries of strife amid a life which is known as the most vigorous and varied of its age.

To enter here into a detailed comparison between the charm of Paris of to-day and yesterday would indeed be a work of supererogation; and only in so far as it bears directly upon the scenes and incidents amid which Dumas lived is it so made.

CHAPTER X.

LA VILLE

It would be impossible to form a precise topographical itinerary of the scenes of Dumas' romances and the wanderings of his characters, even in Paris itself. The area is so very wide, and the number of localities, which have more than an incidental interest, so very great, that the futility of such a task will at once be apparent.

Probably the most prominent of all the romances, so far as identifying the scenes of their action goes, are the Valois series.

As we know, Dumas was very fond of the romantic house of Valois, and, whether in town or country, he seemed to take an especial pride in presenting details of portraiture and place in a surprisingly complete, though not superfluous, manner.

The Louvre has the most intimate connection with both the Valois and the D'Artagnan romances, and is treated elsewhere as a chapter by itself.

Dumas' most marked reference to the Hotel de Ville is found in the taking of the Bastille, and, though it is not so very great, he gives prominence to the incident of the deputation of the people who waited upon De Flesselles, the prevot, just before the march upon the Bastille.

In history we know the same individual as "Messire Jacques de Flesselles, Chevalier, Conseiller de la Grande Chambre, Maitre Honoraire des Requetes, Conseiller d'Etat." The anecdote is recorded in history, too, that Louis XVI., when he visited the Hotel de Ville in 1789, was presented with a c.o.c.kade of blue and red, the colours of the ville--the white was not added till some days later.

_"Votre Majeste," dit le maire, "veut-elle accepte le signe distinctif des Francais?"_

For reply the king took the c.o.c.kade and put it on his chapeau, entered the _grande salle_, and took his place on the throne.

All the broils and turmoils which have taken place since the great Revolution, have likewise had the Hotel de Ville for the theatre where their first scenes were represented.

It was invaded by the people during the Revolutions of 1830 and 1848, as well as in the Commune in 1871, when, in addition to the human fury, it was attacked by the flames, which finally brought about its destruction. Thus perished that n.o.ble structure, which owed its inception to that art-loving monarch, Francois I.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLACE DE LA GReVE]

The present-day Quai de l'Hotel de Ville is the successor of the Quai des Ormes, which dates from the fourteenth century, and the Quai de la Greve, which existed as early as 1254, and which descended by an easy slope to the strand from which it took its name.

Adjoining the quai was the Place de la Greve, which approximates the present Place de l'Hotel de Ville.

A near neighbour of the Hotel de Ville is the Tour de St. Jacques la Boucherie, where sits to-day Paris's clerk of the weather.

It was here that Marguerite de Valois, in company with the d.u.c.h.esse de Nevers, repaired from their pilgrimage to the Cimetiere des Innocents, to view the results of the Huguenot ma.s.sacre of the preceding night.

"'And where are you two going?' inquired Catherine, the queen's mother.

'To see some rare and curious Greek books found at an old Protestant pastor's, and which have been taken to the Tour de St. Jacques la Boucherie,' replied the inquisitive and erudite Marguerite. For, be it recalled, her knowledge and liking of cla.s.sical literature was most profound."

This fine Gothic tower, which is still a notable landmark, is the only _relique_ of the Church of St. Jacques. A bull of Pope Calixtus II., dated 1119, first makes mention of it, and Francois I. made it a royal parish church.

The tower itself was not built until 1508, having alone cost 1,350 livres.

It has often been pictured and painted, and to-day it is a willing or unwilling sitter to most snap-shot camerists who come within focus of it, but no one has perceived the spirit of its genuine old-time flavour as did Meryon, in his wonderful etching--so sought for by collectors--called "Le Stryge."

The artist's view-point, taken from the gallery of Notre Dame,--though in the early nineteenth century,--with the grotesque head and shoulders of one of those monstrous figures, half-man, half-beast, with which the galleries of Notre Dame are peopled, preserves, with its very simplicity and directness, an impression of _Vieux Paris_ which is impossible to duplicate to-day.

The Place de la Greve was for a time, at least, the most famous or infamous of all the places of execution in Paris. One reads of it largely in "Marguerite de Valois" in this connection, and in "Le Vicomte de Bragelonne" it again crops up, but in a much more pleasant manner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOUR DE ST. JACQUES LA BOUCHERIE

(Meryon's Etching, "Le Stryge")]

Dumas, ever praiseful of good wine and good food, describes Vatel, the _maitre d'hotel_ of Fouquet, as crossing the square with a hamper filled with bottles, which he had just purchased at the _cabaret_ of the sign of "L'Image de Notre Dame;" a queer name for a wine-shop, no doubt, and, though it does not exist to-day, and so cannot be authenticated, it may likely enough have had an existence outside the novelist's page. At all events, it is placed definitely enough, as one learns from the chapter of "Le Vicomte de Bragelonne," ent.i.tled "The Wine of M. de la Fontaine."

"'What the devil are you doing here, Vatel?' said Fouquet. 'Are you buying wine at a _cabaret_ in the Place de Greve?'... 'I have found here, monsieur, a "_vin de Joigny_" which your friends like. This I know, as they come once a week to drink it at the "Image de Notre Dame."'"

In the following chapter Dumas reverts to the inglorious aspect of the Place and the Quai de la Greve as follows:

"At two o'clock the next day, fifty thousand spectators had taken their position upon the place, around two gibbets which had been elevated between the Quai de la Greve and Quai Pelletier; one close to the other, with their backs to the parapet of the river. In the morning, also, all the sworn criers of the good city of Paris had traversed the quarters of the city, particularly the Halles and the faubourgs, announcing with their hoa.r.s.e and indefatigable voices the great justice done by the king upon two peculators; two thieves, devourers of the people. And these people, whose interests were so warmly looked after, in order not to fail in respect for their king, quitted shops, stalls, and ateliers, to go and evince a little grat.i.tude to Louis XIV., absolutely like invited guests, who feared to commit an impoliteness in not repairing to the house of him who invited them. According to the tenor of the sentence, which the criers read loudly and badly, two farmers of the revenues, monopolists of money, dilapidators of the royal provisions, extortioners and forgers, were about to undergo capital punishment on the Place de Greve, with their names affixed over their heads, according to their sentence. As to those names, the sentence made no mention of them. The curiosity of the Parisians was at its height, and, as we have said, an immense crowd waited with feverish impatience the hour fixed for the execution."

D'Artagnan, who, in the pages of "Le Vicomte de Bragelonne," was no more a young man, owned this very _cabaret_, the "Image de Notre Dame." "'I will go, then,' says he, 'to the "Image de Notre Dame," and drink a gla.s.s of Spanish wine with my tenant, which he cannot fail to offer me.'"

_En route_ to the _cabaret_, D'Artagnan asked of his companion, "Is there a procession to-day?" "It is a hanging, monsieur." "What! a hanging on the Greve? The devil take the rogue who gets himself hung the day I go to take my rent," said D'Artagnan.

The old _mousquetaire_ did not get his rent, there was riot and bloodshed galore, "L'Image de Notre Dame" was set on fire, and D'Artagnan had one more opportunity to cry out "_A moi, Mousquetaires_," and enter into a first-cla.s.s fight; all, of course, on behalf of right and justice, for he saved two men, destined to be gibbeted, from the more frightful death of torture by fire, to which the fanatical crowd had condemned them.

The most extensive reference to the Place de la Greve is undoubtedly in the "Forty-Five Guardsmen," where is described the execution of Salcede, the coiner of false money and the co-conspirator with the Guises.

"M. Friard was right when he talked of one hundred thousand persons as the number of spectators who would meet on the Place de la Greve and its environs, to witness the execution of Salcede. All Paris appeared to have a rendezvous at the Hotel de Ville; and Paris is very exact, and never misses a fete; and the death of a man is a fete, especially when he has raised so many pa.s.sions that some curse and others bless him.

"The spectators who succeeded in reaching the place saw the archers and a large number of Swiss and light horse surrounding a little scaffold raised about four feet from the ground. It was so low as to be visible only to those immediately surrounding it, or to those who had windows overlooking the place. Four vigorous white horses beat the ground impatiently with their hoofs, to the great terror of the women, who had either chosen this place willingly, or had been forcibly pushed there.

"These horses were unused, and had never done more work than to support, by some chance, on their broad backs, the chubby children of the peasants.

After the scaffold and the horses, what next attracted all looks was the princ.i.p.al window of the Hotel de Ville, which was hung with red velvet and gold, and ornamented with the royal arms. This was for the king. Half-past one had just struck when this window was filled. First came Henri III., pale, almost bald, although he was at that time only thirty-five, and with a sombre expression, always a mystery to his subjects, who, when they saw him appear, never knew whether to say '_Vive le roi!_' or to pray for his soul. He was dressed in black, without jewels or orders, and a single diamond shone in his cap, serving as a fastening to three short plumes. He carried in his hand a little black dog that his sister-in-law, Marie Stuart, had sent him from her prison, and on which his fingers looked as white as alabaster.

"Behind the king came Catherine de Medici, almost bowed by age, for she might be sixty-six or sixty-seven, but still carrying her head firm and erect, and darting bitter glances from under her thick eyebrows. At her side appeared the melancholy but sweet face of the queen, Louise de Touraine. Catherine came as a triumph, she as a punishment. Behind them came two handsome young men, brothers, the eldest of whom smiled with wonderful beauty, and the younger with great melancholy. The one was Anne, Duc de Joyeuse, and the other Henri de Joyeuse, Comte de Bouchage. The people had for these favourites of the king none of the hatred which they had felt toward Maugiron, Quelus, and Schomberg.