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CHAPTER XIII.

Celebrities of Paris.

"To kinder skies, where gentle manners reign,
I turn-and France displays her wide domain,
Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,

Pleas'd with herself, whom all the world can please."

THE locality of Paris on the River Seine, about one hundred miles east of the British Channel-its original name, Lutetia, (from louton hesi-dwelling of the waters), and changed to Parisii (from par or bar, a frontier)—its gradual ascent from a settlement of savages to its present eminence among the capitals of the world, are facts, which may be noticed upon the threshold of our entrance to its manifold celebrities.

The principle of centralization has no instance more marked than here. France has its Lyons, Marsailles, Avignon, Bordeaux, Strasbourg, &c.; but what are they all but stars to this central orb! or what but streams pouring their tide of wealth and power into this vast, illimitable sea. Visit the whole of France, except this capital, and you are no traveler; this witnessed, and the rest are but addenda, to omit which, is comparatively but little loss. Here we are in this famed metropolis, distant from London, about twelve hours by rail and steam.

If the reader is pleased to give me his attention, I will acquaint him in brief terms with the most important celebrities of this prince of French cities. Of these, the palm belongs to the gardens of the Tuileries-"the lungs of

Tuileries.

Place de Concorde.

*

Paris, as Hyde-Park of London," only far, far more beautiful. We take our position in front of the palace of the Tuileries, an edifice of stone nearly a thousand feet long, stretching from the River Seine to the Rue de Rivoli; before us lie a garden with gay parterres, springing fountains, groves of trees beneath which may be seen, during the summer months, thousands of persons of both sexes and all varieties of age, social condition or habit. Children gathered into friendly groups for skipping or other youthful sports, while their parents engaged in conversation, books, or work, occupy the seats or chairs hired for a small sum from a matron having them in charge; the gallant in dashing uniform, and belle in gay attire; the millionaire and beggar; the emperor and hackman; all are there, full of enjoyment as they listen to the martial strains of a band, which devotes an hour of each evening to the public gratification. Farther on and we reach the Place de Concorde, in the center of which stands the obelisk of Luxor, a magnificent relic of ancient Egypt, which once stood in front of the great temple of Thebes, where it was erected fifteen hundred and fifty-two years before Christ, by Sesostris, and from thence brought to the French capital, and placed where it now stands, in 1836, at an expense of about two millions of francs. This venerable monument is situated in the center of an elliptical plateau, where in 1770, during the rejoicings in honor to the marriage of Louis the Sixteenth, a panic occasioned by the discharge of fireworks, resulted in the death of twelve hundred persons; and where in 1789 an accidental

*Deriving its name from tile kilns, which were discovered in the course of making excavations beneath the palace.

Center of Paris.

collision occurred between one of the military corps and the people, which ended in the destruction of the Bastile; and where, at different times, there fell by the axe of the public executioner, Louis Sixteenth, and his wife, Maria Antoinette, Charlotte Corday, Robespierre with other victims, numbering, between January 1st, 1793, and May 3d, 1795, more than twenty-eight hundred persons. Farther on, are the Champs Elysees (Elysian fields), about one mile and a quarter long, with an average breadth of five hundred yards, planted with trees; among which are roads and walks of unsurpassed beauty, and on either side, private dwellings and houses of public entertainment, to meet all tastes, and mark it as a spot not to be soon forgotten by the visitor. On the elevation to which the Champs Elysees leads, is the Arc de Triomphe de l'etoile, or Triumphal arch,-erected by Napoleon the First, at an expense of nine millions six hundred and fiftyfour thousand francs. The Arch of Septimius-Severus at Rome formed the model of this structure. The entablature supported by eight Corinthian columns, of red marble, while the attic is surmounted by a triumphal bronze car, with four horses and attendant genii, while the arch is ornamented with allegorical figures and bas-reliefs commemorating the battle of Austerlitz, and capitulation of Ulm. From its summit, a view of the city and environs may be obtained, more extended and impressive than elsewhere to be found. When you have seen this court yard of the Royal Palace, with its variety of garden, fount, grove, columns, sculpture, walks, and triumphal arch, you have visited a spot, which it is if indeed possible, to find equaled upon our earth. Not a day passed during my fortnight's residence in Paris, without an hour or more in this delightful retreat, and nev

rare,

469757

Louvre.

Cemeteries.

er without increased admiration of its unrivaled beauty and attractiveness.

Upon the opposite side, is the Louvre, a palace of great antiquity, and celebrated for many scenes of painful interest, not the least memorable of which, is the fact, that from one of its windows Charles the Ninth fired upon his subjects during the massacre of St. Bartholomew; and whither the remains of his kinsman, Henry the Fourth, were brought back after his assassination. It is now used as a National Museum, containing creations of genius, which the visitor beholds with mingled emotions of admiration and wonder, so abundant, imposing and beautiful!

The popularity of rural cemeteries has a foundation in their admitted usefulness and propriety. While the body loses all of intrinsic value, upon the departure therefrom of the spirit, the instincts alike of natural affection and revealed religion, prompt to a care of that, which, like the casket, once held a jewel, the dignity and worth of which no arith metic may compute-no intellect less than divine may comprehend. "Who can look upon a corpse as upon other clay? It matters not how certainly or early it return ‘to the earth from whence it came.' So long as it retains the impress of those organs, through which the qualities shone which commanded our esteem or love, how can we withhold the expressions of a tender regard? If you have ever lost a friend, you know what it is to have the warmest feelings awakened toward a cold mass of clay. Few emotions are deeper and stronger than those which were enkindled, when you laid the hand upon the marble brow and imprinted the kiss upon the blanched cheek." These sentiments are natural to every refined, and, emphatically, to every Christian

Pere la Chaise.

heart, finding their expression in the choice of some pleasant locality, its protection from too vulgar intrusion, and its adornment with whatever may impart quiet and solemn beauty to the place. In the beautiful vale of Hebron, they buried the Patriarchs; in a "garden" was the tomb whither was conveyed our adorable Redeemer, and thus has Christendom been faithful to these examples, in the care of the dead. At the head of the list of modern cemeteries, stands Père la Chaise, situated upon an eminence just beyond the north-east wall of Paris, and named after the confessor of Louis the Fourteenth. During a long period, the Jesuits held it as their country seat, and after many vicissitudes, on the twenty-first of May, 1804, it was set apart by a religious consecration to its present use. To this home of the dead

we turned our footsteps on the second morning after reaching Paris. Taking a carriage, we drove through the Boulevard de la Madelin, which, like others of its kind, occupies the place of the ancient wall, and is now rendered very beautiful by the tall trees which line either side of the road; pausing to look at the column which marks the spot where the bastile once stood, we passed the gate, and soon perceived by the multitude of wreaths offered for sale by scores of persons, that we were nearing the object of our visit. Our vehicle remaining without, we enter the well-guarded gate, and upon a sloping eminence lay one hundred acres, walled in, and checkered with monuments, slabs and chapels. No longer the gateways desecrated with that atheistical falsehood, "Death is an eternal sleep," but rather that sublime and consoling teaching of our faith, "Their hope is full of immortality." "Whosoever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." In addition to the usual

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