Our first tramp for a sight was to Notre Dame; and I shall never forget, Charley, my first view of this cathedral. The exterior is more striking than any church edifice that I have yet seen. No engraving can afford a fair idea of its grandeur to one who has not seen it, though it will help my mind, to recall its beauties whenever I see the picture. You are so well read about Paris, that I hardly need tell you that eight centuries have rolled away since Notre Dame was built. It is regarded as the n.o.blest Gothic pile in France, and is the pride of Paris. The front is one hundred and twenty feet wide, and the richness of the carvings upon the exterior is wonderful. I am really glad to see that great pains are taking to restore and adorn this church. The decayed stones are taken out, and new ones replaced, and the carvings also are renewed where necessary, so that future ages may see what so delights us. The two towers are forty feet square and two hundred high, and you ascend by a staircase of four hundred steps. The form of the church is that of the Latin cross. Its dimensions inside are four hundred feet by one hundred and forty, and the height is one hundred feet. All through the cathedral is a line of Gothic arches supported by columns, and, as you enter the great door, you see the entire edifice. The walls look bare to my eye, in spite of the paintings. We were much pleased at seeing the spot where Napoleon was crowned; and George was in ecstasies, for you know how thoroughly he goes in for his beau ideal of the hero. Here are, the splendid candelabra which the emperor gave on the occasion. We heard ma.s.s, but the service was very formal, and the priest might have been a real downeaster, for he had a horrid nasal tw.a.n.g, and his "_sanctissime_" was "_shanktissime_." The history of these churches is strange, and I think a pretty good book might be written on the romance of church architecture. The portal of the north aisle of the choir was erected by a vile a.s.sa.s.sin, the Duke of Burgundy, who murdered his cousin, the Duke of Orleans, in 1407. This, of course, was his penance, and fully expiated his crime. The great bell weighs thirty-two thousand pounds, and was baptized in presence of Louis XIV., and is called Emanuel Louise Therese, after his queen. I cannot attempt to describe the beauties of this building, inside or out. The exterior is all flying b.u.t.tresses, crocketed pinnacles, and sculpture. Inside you see chapel after chapel; and as to windows of painted gla.s.s, they are studies for hours. The rose windows are exquisite.

We repaired to a small chapel used as a sacristy, or treasure-house of the church. Here we saw the coronation robes of Napoleon, and splendid capes and embroideries, in gold and silver, given by Charles X. and Louis Philippe; and here, too, is the vertebrae of the late Archbishop of Paris, who was killed in the revolution of 1848. The bone has a silver arrow tracing the course of the bullet, which lies beside it. This is in time to be a saintly relic, but it seems to me a filthy sight, and in wretched taste. But Popery knows well what to do with dead men's bones.

For a minute description of this church, I would refer you to three volumes, called the "History of Paris," published by Galignani. On our return we went to the Hotel de Ville, and had the company of M. O----n, whose kindness did much for us on several occasions. The Hotel de Ville stands in the Place de Greve, where so much blood has been shed in other days. Here the martyrs of the Protestant faith have been put to death. Here it was that Dubourg was strangled and burnt by order of Francis II. Dubourg was a n.o.ble character. His last words were, "Father, abandon me not; neither will I abandon thee."

This n.o.ble pile was begun in 1533, and only completed in 1841, and in the modern improvements fifteen millions have been expended. The whole now forms an immense quadrangle. The front is Corinthian, with pillars and niches between the windows. A vast number of statues adorn the front, and others are in preparation.

It was at the doorway in the centre that Lamartine, "the n.o.blest Roman of them all," so gloriously withstood the mob in February, 1848, declaring that the red flag should not be the flag of France. I wish you could see this palace, for such it is, though occupied by the city authorities. London has nothing to approach it in splendor. The staircases are gorgeous, and are so rich in sculpture that only a sculptor could properly speak of them. We saw the room where Robespierre held his council and attempted suicide, and also the window where our Lafayette embraced Louis Philippe, and presented him to the mob in 1830. It is the same window where poor Louis XVI. addressed the savages, when he wore the cap of liberty. By the way, I hate the sight of that cap, which always reminds me of the lamp-post executions of the French capital in 1792-3. Its prevalence in our happy country is owing to the French mania which once possessed the people, and has very much died out. The apartments are regal, and some of them, I think, quite superior to those of Windsor Castle. In this building is a fine library, and here are deposited the vast collection of American books obtained by Vattemare, whom, you recollect, we saw at Washington.

I cannot tell you how sorely vexed we are to find the Louvre shut up for repairs and decoration; every week they say it is to be reopened, but I fear we shall leave Paris ere it happens.

How much we would all give to have you here; for, though we are glad to tell you what we see, we feel there are scores of objects which interest us that we have to pa.s.s over, but which would make your eyes glisten, if you could gaze upon. Well, my dear fellow, stick to your business, make your fortune, and then come and look at the beautiful and fair in the old world; and who knows but perhaps we may yet chat cosily together in Paris? O, I do love to wander through this city by moonlight, and gaze upon the bright, lofty buildings as they loom up so gloriously in the mild l.u.s.tre of a silvery night. G.o.d bless you.

Yours affectionately,

JAMES.

Letter 26.

PARIS.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

We have been to dine at the Palais Royal, at the _Trois Freres Provencaux_, of which I suppose the boys have told you; and I shall only speak about the fine building, so renowned all over the world. The Palais Royal is to Paris what Paris is to France. Its history is briefly this: Cardinal Richelieu built it for himself; but the king, Louis XIII., was jealous, and the wily old priest gave it to the monarch, and, after Richelieu's death, he moved into it. In 1692, it fell into the hands of Philippe, Duke of Orleans, as a gift, or marriage portion, from Louis XIV., and here the great Orleans collection of paintings was gathered, and which was sold in 1789, at the breaking out of the great troubles. In 1814, Louis Philippe obtained it as his inheritance, and lived there till 1831. The garden is very fine, and is about seven hundred and fifty feet by three hundred, and has beautiful rows of lime-trees, trimmed into shape, as are most of these trees in Paris. In the centre are flower gardens and a basin of water, with a fine fountain. In this open s.p.a.ce are beautiful bronze and marble statues.

One I admired exceedingly; it is Eurydice, stung by a snake. In this garden are hundreds of persons under the trees, on chairs, which are hired, where they read and take refreshments. Under the arcades which surround the area are the most tasty shops of Paris, and where you may get any thing you please. A gayer sight than this same Palais Royal, or, as they now call it, Palais National, cannot be seen in this world. I shall not attempt to tell you about the apartments of the palace, and which you can read of at your leisure. What a loss it was to the world when, in February, 1848, six hundred thousand engravings, all cla.s.sified by Louis Philippe, and making one hundred and twenty-two enormous folios, were destroyed by the mob, and the queen's own library also!

We lounged about from one shop to another, and made purchases of some pretty things, which we hope may serve to show friends at home that we did not quite forget them.

The Pa.s.sage d'Orleans will never die out from my memory, nor shall I ever forget the Cafe d'Orleans, with its mirrors, walls, and ceilings, all radiant with a thousand lights. We find at every few steps the magazine for the Indian weed, and all varieties of pipe, from the commonest _en bois_ to the elegantly carved _ec.u.me de mer_, which would cost two or three hundred francs. Here, too, are the Theatres Francais and Palais Royal, and other places of amus.e.m.e.nt.

In our walks about the city we are sure to have all the notable places pointed out; and one morning, just after I had obtained a Henry IV.

silver coin, in fine preservation, we were taken home by a long walk through the Rue St. Honore. The house No. 3, in this street, is the one in front of which Henry IV. was a.s.sa.s.sinated by Ravaillac. A bust of the king stands against the second story, with an inscription. In the Rue Vivienne, No. 34, we saw the house where Moliere died, on which is a marble tablet, with this inscription: "_Moliere est mort dans cette maison, le _17_ Fevrier_, 1673, _a l'age de_ 51 _ans._" At the corner of the same street, where a small pa.s.sage way branches off, is a fine monument to the memory of the great poet and the n.o.blest comic writer of France. The statue is of bronze, in a sitting posture; on each side are figures,--one humorous, the other serious,--both looking at the statue.

At the foot of the monument is a basin to receive water, which flows from three lions' heads. This work was put up in 1844, with public services, on which occasion the first men of France took a part. Another morning's walk led us to the Rue de l'ecole de Medecine, and in this street Marat lived, at No. 20, and here it was, in a small room, that he was stabbed, while bathing, by Charlotte Corday, in 1793. And in this same street was held the old club of the Cordeliers.

When I see the places of which I have heard so often it seems very interesting, and will forever identify the scenes with my future reading.

We all enjoyed a visit to the palace of the Luxembourg. This edifice was begun in the sixteenth century, and the present palace was chiefly built early in the next one, by Marie de Medicis, in imitation of one at Florence. Bonaparte used it when chief consul. The old senate held its sessions there till its dissolution, in 1814. I never saw a building whose proportions appeared to me so elegant. The court is a parallelogram of three hundred and sixty by three hundred feet. The front consists of two pavilions, joined by terraces, and in the centre rises a cupola, around which are statues. In such a palace fine rooms are to be expected, and here they are in great number. The Senate Chamber or Chamber of Peers, is very suitable for its purpose. The library is good, and contains about fifteen thousand volumes. The picture gallery is large, and at present princ.i.p.ally filled with pictures of living artists, and at his death the picture of each one is removed to the Louvre. All the great paintings of Napoleon's battles are gone to Versailles; so we shall see them in the series. The chapel is an exquisite gem: it has, beyond all comparison, the most devotional air of any thing I have seen _of the sort_.

The gardens are fine, and have some n.o.ble terraces, adorned with plenty of statues, some of which are quite old; but a great many new ones, by living artists, are rapidly taking their places. The bal.u.s.trades of the terraces are beautified with groups of children, athletae, &c. Here are some fine old orange-trees, which were throwing out their blossoms most fragrantly; and I must not forget the n.o.ble cl.u.s.ters of chestnut-trees which are on the sides of the walks. The garden is a lovely spot, and I saw hundreds of old and young, who seemed to enjoy themselves highly. I am half surprised to find myself more delighted in Europe with the completeness and splendor of the gardens and public grounds than with the palaces and their internal gorgeousness. If I could carry back to my own beloved country any thing from England or France, it should be their gardens, their walks, their libraries and museums. As to the comforts and elegances of life, we have enough of them for our good. The Musee d'Artillerie is quite a place of interest, and here are seen some fine suits of ancient armor. The arrangement is good, and an hour's attention is well repaid.

Yours affectionately,

WELD.

Letter 27.

PARIS.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

This has been a great day for enjoyment, and has made us all in love with Paris. We have seen, this morning, that which has pleased me more than all else I have looked at in Europe. We spent several hours at the Hotel de Cluny, in the Rue des Mathurins. I am surprised that so many Americans come to Paris and never see this castle of curiosities. To understand our gratification, I must bore you a little with its history, and then you will see what a treat we enjoyed. This venerable pile was erected on the site of the Palais des Thermes, formerly the dwelling-place of the Roman governors of Gaul. Here Julian lived when he was made emperor of Rome, in 360. Of the extraordinary remains of this palace I shall tell you by and by. On this spot, then, in 1480, an abbot of Cluny commenced this building, and it was completed in 1505. This magnificent monastery--the city residence of the monks of Cluny--was often made the residence of royal and distinguished visitors. Here for two years lived Mary, the daughter of Henry VII. of England, and widow of Louis XII. of France, who, while here, married the Duke of Suffolk.

Her chamber still exists, and we saw it in high preservation. This marriage, you will remember, laid the foundation for the claim of Lady Jane Grey to the crown. Here, too, for a season, the excellent abbess and the nuns of Port Royal found a refuge. Some forty years ago, it came into the hands of M. Sommerard, a man devoted to antiquarian pursuits, and here he expended a large property in forming a vast collection of all sorts of relics he could gather belonging to the medieval ages. A few years ago, he died, and then the government wisely purchased the hotel and its unrivalled museum for half a million of francs; and additions are constantly made to it of every curiosity that can ill.u.s.trate the habits and manners of the early history of France and Europe. The building is very striking in its first aspect. It has several Gothic turrets, and very rich windows, and the court yards and garden are all in keeping. What good times those old abbots, and monks must have had in their visits to Paris, in such a palace as this was!

You pa.s.s from room, to room, all filled with the antique, till you get leg-weary. The floors are exquisitely beautiful--some in fine old black oak, let in, in patterns; others are bricks and tiles, in mosaic. Then the old mantel-pieces are wonderfully fine. We saw plenty of tapestry, old as the hills; and one set of hangings was the history of David and Bathsheba. Some of the bedsteads are very curious. One belonged to Francis I. Perhaps the largest and most valuable collection of carved Wood furniture in the world is here to be seen. Such cabinets, chairs, tables, chests, I never imagined. The work is of the most delicate and complicated character. Then you find a wonderful collection of gla.s.s and earthen ware--cups and goblets belonging to men of note of every age in French history. One room is full of ancient armor, another of gems, enamels, &c, another of pictures of the most curious kind; and as to mirrors and looking-gla.s.ses, they are in great plenty; and china enough to make some ladies in America whom I know break the commandment.

You can fancy, Charley, what sort of a place this must be, when I tell you that the catalogue of this collection is a volume of two hundred and forty octavo pages, and embraces eighteen hundred and ninety-five particulars. I have the catalogue, and can a.s.sure you that it includes some queer antiquities, of which we cannot speak particularly at present.

A word or two about the ruins of Julian's Palace of the Baths. Here is still a vast hall, which was doubtless the place for cold baths. The dimensions are sixty feet by thirty-five. In the cellars are the evident remains of the warm baths. The walls are of immense thickness, and will probably last as long as the earth on which they rest. This hall is the place of deposit for any Roman sculpture that may be found in the excavations of the city.

I am sure that, next to the Crystal Palace, this has been our greatest treat. We enjoyed this morning the more, because we had the company of Mr. George Sumner, who has lived in Paris so long that he is perfectly familiar with every object of interest. I never met with any one who appeared to have so much local knowledge as he possesses. He knows the history of every thing, and he seems at home on all names, dates, and facts of other ages. Whenever we read up, after a walk with him, we find that he knows all that is known; and in truth he talks like a book, but better than most books. The attention of this gentleman has been very great to us boys, and he seems never tired when doing us kindness. But if Mr. S. knows places well, he is no less intimate with men; and probably no American has ever enjoyed his opportunities to cultivate the acquaintance of the best and greatest men in Paris.

We have visited the Church of St. Sulpice, which was begun in 1655, and only completed late in the last century. The portico is very grand, and is a double row of Doric pillars, forty feet high. It has two towers, which are over two hundred feet high, and on which are telegraphs. The church forms a cross, and is four hundred and thirty-two feet in length, one hundred and seventy-four in width, and ninety-nine in height. The organ is finely carved, and is more elaborate in its work than any I have seen yet. The statuary, both in bronze and marble, here, is beautiful, and the candelabra are greatly admired. As to pictures, I can only say they are many and fine. The marble monument and statue to Languet de Gergy, the former _cure_ of this parish, and who mainly contributed to its erection or completion, is much admired, and on this tomb is the most elegant inscription of modern times. But I cannot insert it here. Directly in front of the church, in an open square, is a very fine fountain, which partakes of the ecclesiastical in its style--having in four niches the statues of Bossuet, Ma.s.sillon, Flechier, and Fenelon.

In our walk we were all struck with an immense wooden pile, which we found was the Bibliotheque St. Genevieve. The front is very chaste, and has very many arched windows. The library is more than three hundred feet in length, and is covered on the exterior with the names of all the great authors of every age and nation. We saw the names of many of our countrymen--Washington, Franklin, Rumford, Clinton, Cooper, Prescott, Irving, &c. We were unable to enter, as repairs were in progress, but were told that the library has two hundred thousand volumes, and several thousand MSS.

We have all been much gratified with the Church of St. Etienne du Mont.

It boasts an antiquity that dates back to 1131, and its tower and turret are known to be as early as 1222. The exterior is remarkable for a strange mixture of architecture, and some of the details are very beautiful. The interior cannot fail to interest a thoughtful person, I think. The pictures are very fine indeed, and some of the marbles are of the highest excellence. We went into the little Chapel of St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, where is the tomb of the saint. The tomb was literally stuck over with small tallow candles, and looked like a piece of meat larded. The room was filled with worshippers, all on their knees; and two women had as much anguish in their faces as I ever saw.

All the people kneeling at this tomb seemed far more intent and in earnest than the hundreds at grand ma.s.s in the church proper. Just as we stepped outside this chapel, we found on the wall the monuments of Racine and Pascal, who are both buried in this church. The church was full of people, and in one little chapel the priest was baptizing an infant. We went in and looked on. It was the first time I had ever witnessed this monstrous mummery in the Catholic church; and I called in the Dr. and Mr. S., who were looking at some statuary. The priest was hardly decent at his work. He did it all in a hurry,--put oil and something else on the child, fore and aft,--and how men and women could stand and let the stupidity take place on their children, I cannot understand. After seeing Pascal's grave, and thinking of his immortal works, it was poor preparation for the mountebank exhibition, and awkward work of making Christians, that we witnessed. You know, Charley, that I am not a lover of Romanism, but I never felt so thankful as on that day for being a Protestant.

The pictures of this church are very well worthy of careful notice--especially two, said to have been given by the city to the saint, who caused a famine to stay its ravages, and restored a sick king by intercession.

Now, pray, do not think me church mad if I carry you once more to another old one. I am sure, if you had seen it, that it would cause you to talk about it often. Well, it is the Church St. Germain des Pres.

This is regarded as the oldest in Paris, and was originally an abbey.

There was a church here as early as 560. This was probably built about the middle of the ninth century, and its completion was in the twelfth; for it was consecrated by Pope Alexander III. In this church was the tomb of Childebert, the founder of the first edifice. The abbey had a refectory, cloisters, &c, was surrounded by a moat, and had been fortified. A large open field, close by, was the resort of duellists, and many a b.l.o.o.d.y affray has there occurred. Casimir, King of Poland, was an abbot of this church. The revolution was sadly injurious to this fine sanctuary, and it was for a time converted into a saltpetre manufactory. Charles X. repaired it, and after him Louis Philippe carefully superintended its restoration. The inside of the church is a cross, with a circular choir; and the arches are semi-circular, and indicate great antiquity. The restoration of the nave and choir has been most carefully done, at immense expense. The roof of the choir is painted deep blue, with stars. The capitals of the columns are richly gilt, and the shafts are painted in red stripes--exact copies of the old devices. Nothing can be finer than the marble altar and the carved stalls of the choir. Nor does the church lack for historical names among its dead. Here are the tombs of Earl Dougla.s.s, Descartes, Mabillon, Montfaucon, and Casimir of Poland, who died, abbot, in 1672. Every thing here in ecclesiastical architecture is so different from all that we have in our country, that I examine these n.o.ble relics with great pleasure, and do not know but I shall soon become as antiquarian in my taste as-you know who.

Yours affectionately,

JAMES.

Letter 28.

PARIS.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

On a fine morning we rode over to the Jardin des Plantes, accompanied by Mr. R----, whose long residence has made him very familiar with this lovely spot. I think we all looked forward to this excursion with great antic.i.p.ation, because we knew that this was the most famous garden in Europe; and then, in connection with it, are the richest cabinets in the world of natural history, mineralogy, geology, and a n.o.ble collection of living animals from all countries. Ever since 1635, the world has been placed under contribution to enrich this spot. The greatest botanists and naturalists of Europe have labored here. Buffon himself was the great man of the place in his day. Even revolutionary fury spared this retreat and treasury of Nature. Bonaparte made it his pet, and when the troops of Europe were at the walls of Paris, they agreed to respect and preserve the spot so dear to science. This establishment is on the banks of the river, and there are many portals by which entrance may be obtained. The gardens are very large, but I cannot speak of their exact size. They are in the neatest order. Every shrub and flower, plant and tree, is labelled, so that reference is easy. I was delighted to see, on a lofty eminence, the cedar of Lebanon. It is a glorious tree, and was planted here in 1734, and is now about twelve feet round at its base. We also saw some palm-trees which were given by Louis XIV. They were, I should think, nearly thirty feet high.

The Menagerie has long been famous, and is most admirably laid out in walks and enclosures, so that the animals have plenty of room for exercise and pasture. Since the days of Noah's ark, I suppose there never was such a collection of animals, clean and unclean. The bears, elephants, lions, and tigers are all what are called first-rate specimens.