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                                 PARIS




                    Grant Allen’s Historical Guides
            Fcap. 8vo, Green Cloth, with rounded corners to
               slip in the pocket. Price =3/6= net each.

                      PARIS

                      FLORENCE

                      CITIES OF BELGIUM

                      VENICE

                      ROME

                      DRESDEN with Nuremburg, etc.


                         LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS
                 9 HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN W.C.




                       GRANT  ALLEN’S  HISTORICAL
                                 GUIDES

                               P A R I S


                             [Illustration]


                        LONDON:  GRANT  RICHARDS
                                  1900




                    First Edition. Printed Jan. 1897
                   Second Edition. Printed Jan. 1900




                              INTRODUCTION


THE object and plan of these Historical Handbooks is somewhat
different from that of any other guides at present before the public.
They do not compete or clash with such existing works; they are rather
intended to supplement than to supplant them. My purpose is not to
direct the stranger through the streets and squares of an unknown town
towards the buildings or sights which he may desire to visit; still less
is it my design to give him practical information about hotels, cab
fares, omnibuses, tramways, and other every-day material conveniences.
For such details, the traveller must still have recourse to the trusty
pages of his Baedeker, his Joanne, or his Murray. I desire rather to
supply the tourist who wishes to use his travel as a means of culture
with such historical and antiquarian information as will enable him to
understand, and therefore to enjoy, the architecture, sculpture,
painting, and minor arts of the towns he visits. In one word, it is my
object to give the reader in a very compendious form the result of all
those inquiries which have naturally suggested themselves to my own mind
during thirty-five years of foreign travel, the solution of which has
cost myself a good deal of research, thought, and labour, beyond the
facts which I could find in the ordinary handbooks.

For several years past I have devoted myself to collecting and arranging
material for a set of books to embody the idea I had thus entertained. I
earnestly hope they may meet a want on the part of tourists, especially
Americans, who, so far as my experience goes, usually come to Europe
with an honest and reverent desire to learn from the Old World whatever
of value it has to teach them, and who are prepared to take an amount of
pains in turning their trip to good account which is both rare and
praiseworthy. For such readers I shall call attention at times to other
sources of information.

These guide-books will deal more particularly with the Great Towns where
objects of art and antiquity are numerous. In every one of them, the
general plan pursued will be somewhat as follows. First will come the
inquiry why a town ever gathered together at all at that particular
spot—what induced the aggregation of human beings rather there than
elsewhere. Next, we shall consider why that town grew to social or
political importance and what were the stages by which it assumed its
present shape. Thirdly, we shall ask why it gave rise to that higher
form of handicraft which we know as Art, and towards what particular
arts it especially gravitated. After that, we shall take in detail the
various strata of its growth or development, examining the buildings and
works of art which they contain in historical order, and, as far as
possible, tracing the causes which led to their evolution. In
particular, we shall lay stress upon the origin and meaning of each
structure as an organic whole, and upon the allusions or symbols which
its fabric embodies.

A single instance will show the method upon which I intend to proceed
better than any amount of general description. A church, as a rule, is
built over the body or relics of a particular saint, in whose special
honour it was originally erected. That saint was usually one of great
local importance at the moment of its erection, or was peculiarly
implored against plague, foreign enemies, or some other pressing and
dreaded misfortune. In dealing with such a church, then, I endeavour to
show what were the circumstances which led to its erection, and what
memorials of these circumstances it still retains. In other cases it may
derive its origin from some special monastic body—Benedictine,
Dominican, Franciscan—and may therefore be full of the peculiar
symbolism and historical allusion of the order who founded it. Wherever
I have to deal with such a church, I try as far as possible to exhibit
the effect which its origin had upon its architecture and decoration; to
trace the image of the patron saint in sculpture or stained glass
throughout the fabric; and to set forth the connection of the whole
design with time and place, with order and purpose. In short, instead of
looking upon monuments of the sort mainly as the product of this or that
architect, I look upon them rather as material embodiments of the spirit
of the age—crystallizations, as it were, in stone and bronze, in form
and colour, of great popular enthusiasms.

By thus concentrating attention on what is essential and important in a
town, I hope to give in a comparatively short space, though with
inevitable conciseness, a fuller account than is usually given of the
chief architectural and monumental works of the principal art-cities. In
dealing with Paris, for example, I shall have little to say about such
modern constructions as the Champs Elysées or the Eiffel Tower; still
less, of course, about the Morgue, the Catacombs, the waxworks of the
Musée Grévin, and the celebrated Excursion in the Paris Sewers. The
space thus saved from vulgar wonders I shall hope to devote to fuller
explanation of Notre-Dame and the Sainte Chapelle, of the mediæval
carvings or tapestries of Cluny, and of the pictures or sculptures in
the galleries of the Louvre. Similarly in Florence, whatever I save from
description of the Cascine and even of the beautiful Viale dei Colli
(where explanation is needless and word-painting superfluous), I shall
give up to the Bargello, the Uffizi, and the Pitti Palace. The passing
life of the moment does not enter into my plan; I regard each town I
endeavour to illustrate mainly as a museum of its own history.

For this reason, too, I shall devote most attention in every case to
what is locally illustrative, and less to what is merely adventitious
and foreign. In Paris, for instance, I shall have more to say about
truly Parisian art and history, as embodied in St. Denis, the Île de la
Cité, and the shrine of Ste. Geneviève, than about the Egyptian and
Assyrian collections of the Louvre. In Florence, again, I shall deal
rather with the Etruscan remains, with Giotto and Fra Angelico, with the
Duomo and the Campanile, than with the admirable Memlincks and Rubenses
of the Uffizi and the Pitti, or with the beautiful Van der Goes of the
Hospital of Santa Maria. In Bruges and Brussels, once more, I shall be
especially Flemish; in the Rhine towns, Rhenish; in Venice, Venetian. I
shall assign a due amount of space, indeed, to the foreign collections,
but I shall call attention chiefly to those monuments or objects which
are of entirely local and typical value.

As regards the character of the information given, it will be mainly
historical, antiquarian, and, above all, explanatory. I am not a
connoisseur—an adept in the difficult modern science of distinguishing
the handicraft of various masters, in painting or sculpture, by minute
signs and delicate inferential processes. In such matters, I shall be
well content to follow the lead of the most authoritative experts. Nor
am I an art-critic—a student versed in the technique of the studios and
the dialect of the modelling-room. In such matters, again, I shall
attempt little more than to accept the general opinion of the most
discriminative judges. What I aim at rather is to expound the history
and meaning of each work—to put the intelligent reader in such a
position that he may judge for himself of the æsthetic beauty and
success of the object before him. To recognise the fact that this is a
Perseus and Andromeda, that a St. Barbara enthroned, the other an
obscure episode in the legend of St. Philip, is not art-criticism, but
it is often an almost indispensable prelude to the formation of a right
and sound judgment. We must know what the artist was trying to represent
before we can feel sure what measure of success he has attained in his
representation.

For the general study of Christian art, alike in architecture,
sculpture, and painting, no treatises are more useful for the tourist to
carry with him for constant reference than Mrs. Jameson’s _Sacred and
Legendary Art_, and _Legends of the Madonna_ (London, Longmans). For
works of Italian art, both in Italy and elsewhere, Kugler's _Italian
Schools of Painting_ is an invaluable _vade-mecum_. These books should
be carried about by everybody everywhere. Other works of special and
local importance will occasionally be noticed under each particular
city, church, or museum.

I cannot venture to hope that handbooks containing such a mass of facts
as these will be wholly free from errors and misstatements, above all in
early editions. I can only beg those who may detect any such to point
them out, without unnecessary harshness, to the author, care of the
publisher, and if possible to assign reasons for any dissentient
opinion.




                            C O N T E N T S

                                                             PAGE
         INTRODUCTION                                           3
         HOW TO USE THESE GUIDE-BOOKS                          10
         ORIGINS OF PARIS                                      11
              I THE ÎLE DE LA CITÉ                             16
                A. The Palais de Justice and the Sainte
                     Chapelle                                  17
                B. Notre-Dame                                  22
                Map of Historic Paris                          33
             II THE LEFT OR SOUTH BANK                         34
                A. The Roman Palace and the Musée de Cluny     35
                B. The Hill of Ste. Geneviève                  55
            III RENAISSANCE PARIS (THE LOUVRE)                 62
                A. The Fabric                                  64
                B. The Collections                             71
                   I.   Paintings                              72
                   II.  Sculpture                             153
                        1. Antique Sculpture                  154
                        2. Renaissance Sculpture              168
                        3. Modern Sculpture                   187
                   III. The Smaller Collections               189
             IV THE NORTH BANK (RIVE DROITE)                  197
                A. The Core of the Right Bank                 198
                B. The Outer Ring of Louis XIV                208
              V THE FAUBOURG ST. GERMAIN                      213
             VI ST. DENIS                                     230
            VII THE OUTER RING, ETC                           246
         INDEX                                                253




                      HOW TO USE THESE GUIDE-BOOKS


_T__HE portions of this book intended to be read at leisure_ =at
home=, _before proceeding to explore each town or monument, are enclosed
in brackets_ [_thus_]. _The portion relating to each_ =principal object=
_should be quietly read and digested_ =before= _a visit, and referred to
again afterwards. The portion to be read_ =on the spot= _is made as
brief as possible, and is printed in large legible type, so as to be
easily read in the dim light of churches, chapels, and galleries. The_
=key-note words= _are printed in_ =bold type=, _to catch the eye. Where
objects are numbered, the numbers used are always those of the latest
official catalogues_.

_Baedeker’s Guides are so printed that each principal portion can be
detached entire from the volume. The traveller who uses Baedeker is
advised to carry in his pocket one such portion, referring to the place
he is then visiting, together with the plan of the town, while carrying
this book in his hand. These Guides do_ =not= _profess to supply
practical information_.

_Individual works of merit are distinguished by an asterisk_ (=*=);
_those of very exceptional interest and merit have two asterisks_.
=Nothing= _is noticed in this book which does not seem to the writer
worthy of attention_.

_See little at a time, and see it thoroughly._ =Never= _attempt to “do”
any place or any monument. By following strictly the order in which
objects are noticed in this book, you will gain a conception of the_
=historical evolution= _of the town which you cannot obtain if you go
about looking at churches and palaces hap-hazard. The order is arranged,
not quite chronologically, but on a definite_ =plan=, _which greatly
facilitates comprehension of the subject_.




                            ORIGINS OF PARIS


PARIS is =not=, like Rome, London, Lyons, =an inevitable city=. It
does not owe its distinctive place, like New York, Chicago, San
Francisco, Melbourne, to natural position alone. Rather does it resemble
Madrid or Berlin in being in great part of artificial administrative
origin. It stands, no doubt, upon an important navigable river, the
Seine; but its position upon that river, though near the head of
navigation, when judged by the standard of early times, is not exactly
necessary or commanding. Rouen in mediæval days, Havre at the present
moment, are the real ports of the Seine. The site of Paris is in itself
nothing more than one among the many little groups of willow-clad
alluvial islets which are frequent along the upper reaches of the river.
The modern city owes its special development as a town, first to its
Roman conquerors, then to its bridges, next to its mediæval counts, last
of all to the series of special accidents by which those counts
developed at last into kings of the nascent kingdom of France, and
inheritors of the traditions of the Frankish sovereigns. It is thus in
large part a royal residential town, depending mainly for prosperity
upon its kings, its nobles, its courts of justice, its parliaments, its
university, its clergy, and its official classes; comparatively little,
till quite recent times, upon the energy and industry of its individual
citizens. We say, as a rule, that Paris is the capital of France; it
would be truer to say that France is the country which has grouped
itself under the rulers of Paris.

The name itself points back to the antiquity of some human aggregation
upon this particular spot. It is =the name of a tribe=, _not_ that of
their capital. The Parisii were a Celtic people of comparatively small
importance, who occupied the banks of the Seine at the period of the
Roman conquest. Their town or stronghold, Lutetia, called distinctively
Lutetia Parisiorum (Lutetia of the Parisii), was situated, says Cæsar,
“in an island of the river Sequana”—the same which is now called the
Île de la Cité. Two adjacent islands of the same alluvial type have long
since coalesced to form the Île St. Louis; a fourth, the Île Louviers,
is at present enclosed in the mainland of the northern bank by the
modern quays.

This =stockaded island village= of the Parisii was conquered by the
Romans in B.C. 53. Under Roman rule, it remained at first an unimportant
place, the really large towns of Gaul at that time being Arles, Nîmes,
Marseilles, Bordeaux, and Lyons. In the north, Treviri was the chief
Roman settlement. Towards the end of the Roman period, however, Paris
seems to have increased in importance, and overflowed a little from the
island to the south bank. The town owed its rapid rise, no doubt, to the
two Roman bridges which here crossed the two branches of the Seine,
probably on the same sites as the modern Petit-Pont and Pont Notre-Dame.
The river formed its highway. Constantius Chlorus, who lived in Gaul
from A.D. 292 to 306, is supposed to have built in the faubourg on the
south side the palace of the Thermes, which now forms a part of the
Museum of Cluny. Julian certainly inhabited that palace in 360. The town
was known as Lutetia almost as long as the Roman power lasted; but after
the Frankish invasion (and even in late Roman times), the name of the
tribe superseded that of the ancient fortress: Lutetia became known as
Paris, the stronghold of the Parisii, just in the same way as the
Turones gave their name to Tours, the Ambiani to Amiens, and the Senones
to Sens.

After the occupation of Gaul by Clovis (Hlodwig), Paris sank for a time
to the position of =a mere provincial town=. The Merwing (or
Merovingian) kings, the successors of Clovis, resided as a rule at
Orleans or Soissons. The Frankish emperors and kings of the line of
Charlemagne, again (the Karlings or Carlovingians), held their court for
the most part at Aix-la-Chapelle. The town by the Seine was so
completely neglected under later sovereigns of the Karling line (who
were practically Germans), that during the invasions of the Northmen
from 841 to 885 it was left entirely to its own resources. But its
count, Eudes, defended it so bravely from the northern pirates, that he
became the real founder of the French State, the first inaugurator of
France as a separate country, distinct from the Empire. His provincial
city grew into the kernel of a mediæval monarchy. From his time on,
Paris emerges as the capital of a struggling kingdom, small in extent at
first, but gradually growing till it attained the size which it now
possesses. The Teutonic King of the Franks was reduced for a time to the
rocky fortress of Laon; the =Count of Paris= became Duke of the French,
and then =King of France= in the modern acceptation.

As the kingdom grew (absorbing by degrees Flanders, Normandy, Aquitaine,
Provence, Champagne, and Burgundy), the capital grew with it; its limits
at various times will be more fully described in succeeding pages. From
first to last, however, Paris preserved its character as rather the
official and administrative centre than the commercial emporium.
Nevertheless, even under the Romans, its symbol was a ship. Its double
debt to the river and the monarchy is well symbolised by its mediæval
coat of arms, which consists of a vessel under full sail, surmounted by
the _fleur de lis_ of the French kings, and crested above by a mural
crown.

So few remnants of =Roman Paris= exist at our day, that we will begin
our survey with the =Île de la Cité=, the nucleus of the mediæval town,
leaving the scanty earlier relics to be noted later on in their proper
places. But before we proceed to this detailed description, two other
facts of prime importance in the history of old Paris must be briefly
mentioned, because without them the character of the most ancient
buildings in the city cannot be properly understood. These two
facts—even if mythical, yet facts none the less—are the histories of
the two great patron saints of the early burghers. It is not too much to
say that to the mediæval Parisian, Paris appeared far less as the home
of the kings or the capital of the kingdom than as the =shrine of St.
Denis= and the =city of Ste. Geneviève=.

Universal tradition relates that =St. Denis= was the first preacher of
Christianity in Paris. He is said to have suffered martyrdom there in
the year 270. As the apostle and evangelist of the town, he was deeply
venerated from the earliest times; but later legend immensely increased
his vogue and his sanctity. On the one hand, he was identified with
Dionysius the Areopagite; on the other hand, he was said to have walked
after his decapitation, bearing his head in his hand, from his place of
martyrdom on the hill of Montmartre (Mons Martyrum), near the site from
which the brand-new church of the Sacré-Cœur now overlooks the vastly
greater modern city, to a spot two miles away, where a pious lady buried
him. On this spot, a chapel is said to have been erected as early as
A.D. 275, within five years of his martyrdom; later, Ste. Geneviève,
assisted by the people of Paris, raised a church over his remains on the
same site. In the reign of King Dagobert, the sacred body was removed to
the =Abbey of St. Denis= (see later), which became the last
resting-place of the kings of France. It is probable that the legend of
the saint having carried his head from Montmartre arose from a
misunderstanding of images of the decapitated bishop, bearing his
severed head in his hands as a symbol of the mode of his martyrdom; but
the tale was universally accepted as true in mediæval days, and is still
so accepted by devout Parisians. Images of St. Denis, in episcopal
robes, carrying his mitred head in his hands, may be looked for on all
the ancient buildings of the city. St. Denis thus represents the
earliest patron saint of Paris—the saint of the primitive Church and of
the period of persecution.

The second patron saint of the city—the saint of the Frankish
conquest—is locally and artistically even more important. Like Jeanne
d’Arc, she touches the strong French sentiment of patriotism. =Ste.
Geneviève=, a peasant girl of Nanterre (on the outskirts of Paris), was
born in 421, during the stormy times of the barbarian irruptions. When
she was seven years old, St. Germain, of Auxerre (of whom more will be
said under the church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois), on his way to
Britain, saw _la pucellette Geneviève_, and became aware, by divine
premonition, of her predestined glory. When she had grown to woman’s
estate, and was a shepherdess at Nanterre, a barbarian leader
(identified in the legend with Attila, King of the Huns) threatened to
lay siege to the little city. But Geneviève, warned of God, addressed
the people, begging them not to leave their homes, and assuring them of
the miraculous protection of heaven. And indeed, as it turned out, the
barbarians, without any obvious reason, changed their line of march, and
avoided Paris. Again, when Childeric, the father of Clovis, invested the
city, the people suffered greatly from sickness and famine. Then
Geneviève took command of the boats which were sent up stream to Troyes
for succour, stilled by her prayers the frequent tempests, and brought
the ships back laden with provisions. After the Franks had captured
Paris, Ste. Geneviève carried on Roman traditions into the Frankish
court; she was instrumental in converting Clovis and his wife Clotilde;
and when she died, at eighty-nine, a natural death, she was buried by
the side of her illustrious disciples. The history of her body will be
given at length when we come to examine her church on the South Side,
commonly called the Panthéon; but her image may frequently be recognised
on early buildings by the figure of a devil at her side, endeavouring in
vain (as was his wont) to extinguish her lighted taper—the taper, no
doubt, of Roman Christianity, which she did not allow to be quenched by
the Frankish invaders.

Round these two sacred personages the whole art and history of early
Paris continually cluster. The beautiful figure of the simple peasant
enthusiast, Ste. Geneviève, in particular, has largely  Parisian
ideas and Parisian sympathies. Her shrine still attracts countless
thousands of the faithful.

Having premised these facts, we are now in a position to commence our
survey of the city. I strongly recommend the reader to visit the various
objects of interest in the exact order here prescribed. Otherwise, he
will not understand the various allusions to points already elucidated.
But no necessary organic connection exists between the =collections of
the Louvre= and the town in which they are housed. Therefore, they may
be visited off and on at any time (see Introduction to the Collections
in Part III). =Utilize rainy days in the Galleries of the Louvre.=




                                   I
                           THE ÎLE DE LA CITÉ


    [THE Île de la Cité, the oldest Paris, consisted in the Middle
    Ages of a labyrinth of narrow and tortuous lanes, now entirely
    replaced by large and stately modern official buildings. In
    Roman and Frankish times, it comprised the whole of the town,
    save a small suburb extending as far as the present Museum of
    Cluny, on the South Side. Among its sunless alleys, however, in
    later mediæval days, numerous churches raised their heads, of
    which =Notre-Dame= and the =Sainte Chapelle= alone now remain;
    while others, dedicated to the oldest local saints, such as Ste.
    Geneviève-des-Ardents, St. Éloy, and St. Germain-le-Vieux, have
    been entirely destroyed. The west extremity of the island was
    formerly occupied by the old =Royal Palace=, parts of which
    still survive, included in the buildings of the modern =Palais
    de Justice=. On the east end stood the cathedral of Notre-Dame,
    with the episcopal palace in its rear; while, close by, rose the
    earliest hospital in Europe, the Hôtel-Dieu, said to have been
    originally founded by Clovis, and now represented by a vastly
    larger modern building on a different site. As the burgesses
    began to shift their homes to the quarters north of the Seine,
    in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the Cité was gradually
    given over to the clergy. The kings also removed from the Palace
    of the Capets to their new residences on the North Bank
    (Bastille, Hôtel Saint-Paul, old castle of the Louvre), and gave
    up their island mansion to the Parlement or Supreme Court, since
    which time it has been commonly known as the =Palais de
    Justice=, and extensively modernised. At the present day, the
    Cité has become the head-quarters of Law, Police, and Religion,
    and is almost entirely occupied by huge official structures,
    which cover enormous areas, and largely conceal its primitive
    character. It still contains, however, the most precious
    mediæval monuments of Paris.

    At least =two days= should be devoted to the Île de la Cité; one
    to the Palace and the Sainte Chapelle, another to the Cathedral.
    Do not attempt to see them both together.]


                    A. THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE AND THE
                             SAINTE CHAPELLE

Go along the Rue de Rivoli as far as the Square of the Tour St. Jacques.
If driving, alight here. Turn down the Place du Châtelet to your right.
In front is the pretty modern fountain of the Châtelet: right, the
Théâtre du Châtelet; left, the Opéra Comique. The bridge which faces you
is the Pont-au-Change, so-called from the money-changers’ and jewellers’
booths which once flanked its wooden predecessor (the oldest in Paris),
as they still do the Rialto at Venice, and the Ponte Vecchio at
Florence.

Stand by the right-hand corner of the bridge before crossing it. In
front is the Île de la Cité. The square, dome-crowned building opposite
you to the left is the modern Tribunal de Commerce; beyond it leftward
lie the Marché-aux-Fleurs and the long line of the Hôtel-Dieu, above
which rise the towers and spire of Notre-Dame. In front, to the right,
the vast block of buildings broken by towers forms part of the Palais de
Justice, the ancient =Palace of the French kings=, begun by Hugues
Capet. The square tower to the left in this block is the Tour de
l’Horloge. Next, to the right, come the two round towers of the
Conciergerie, known respectively as the Tour de César and the Tour de
Montgomery. The one beyond them, with battlements, is the Tour d’Argent.
It was in the Conciergerie that Marie Antoinette, Robespierre, and many
other victims of the Revolution were imprisoned.

These mediæval towers, much altered and modernized, are now almost all
that remains of the old Palace, which, till after the reign of Louis IX
(St. Louis), formed the residence of the Kings of France. Charles VII
gave it in 1431 to the Parlement or Supreme Court. Ruined by fires and
rebuilding, it now consists for the most part of masses of irregular
recent edifices. The main modern façade fronts the Boulevard du Palais.

Cross the bridge. The Tour de l’Horloge on your right, at the corner of
the Boulevard du Palais, contains the oldest public clock in France
(1370). The figures of Justice and Piety by its side were originally
designed by Germain Pilon, but are now replaced by copies. Walk round
the Palais by the quay along the north branch of the Seine till you come
to the Rue de Harlay. Turn there to your left, towards the handsome and
imposing modern façade of this side of the Palais de Justice. The
interior is unworthy a visit. The Rue de Harlay forms the westernmost
end of the original Île de la Cité. The prow-shaped extremity of the
modern island has been artificially produced by embanking the sites of
two or three minor islets. The Place Dauphine, which occupies the
greater part of this modern extension, was built in 1608; it still
affords a characteristic example of the domestic Paris of the period
before Baron Haussmann. Continue along the quay as far as the Pont-Neuf,
so as to gain an idea of the extent of the Île de la Cité in this
direction. The centre of the Pont-Neuf is occupied by an equestrian
statue of Henri IV, first of the Bourbon kings. Its predecessor was
erected in 1635, and was destroyed to make cannon during the great
Revolution. Louis XVIII re-erected it. From this point you can gain a
clear idea of the two branches of the Seine as they unite at the lower
end of the Île de la Cité. To your right, looking westward, you also
obtain a fine view of the Colonnade of the Old Louvre, with the
southwestern gallery, and the more modern buildings of the Museum behind
it. (See later.)

Now, walk along the southern quay of the island, round the remainder of
the Palais de Justice, as far as the Boulevard du Palais. There turn to
your left, and go in at the first door of the Palace on the left
(undeterred by sentries) into the court of =the Sainte Chapelle=, the
only important relic now remaining of the home of Saint Louis. You may
safely neglect the remainder of the building.

                 *        *        *        *        *

    [The thirteenth century (age of the Crusades) was a period of
    profound religious enthusiasm throughout Europe. Conspicuous
    among its devout soldiers was Louis IX, afterwards canonized as
    =St. Louis=. The saintly king purchased from Baldwin, Emperor of
    Constantinople, the veritable =Crown of Thorns=, and a fragment
    of the =True Cross=—paying for these relics an immense sum of
    money. Having become possessed of such invaluable and sacred
    objects, Louis desired to have them housed with suitable
    magnificence. He therefore entrusted one Pierre de Montereau
    with the task of building a splendid chapel (within the
    precincts of his palace), begun in 1245, and finished three
    years later, immediately after which the king set out on his
    Crusade. The monument thus breathes throughout the ecstatic
    piety of the mystic king; it was consecrated in 1248, in the
    name of the Holy Crown and the Holy Cross, by Eudes de
    Châteauroux, Bishop of Tusculum and papal legate.

    Three things should be noted about the Sainte Chapelle. (1) It
    is a =chapel=, not a church; therefore it consists (practically)
    of a choir alone, without nave or transepts. (2) It is the
    =domestic Chapel of the Royal Palace=. (3) It is, above all
    things, the =Shrine of the Crown of Thorns=. These three points
    must be constantly borne in mind in examining the building.

    Erected later than Notre-Dame, it represents the pointed style
    of the middle of the thirteenth century, and is singularly pure
    and uniform throughout. Secularized at the Revolution, it fell
    somewhat into decay; but was judiciously restored by
    Viollet-le-Duc and others. The “Messe Rouge,” or “Messe du St.
    Esprit,” is still celebrated here once yearly, on the re-opening
    of the courts after the autumn vacation, but no other religious
    services take place in the building. The Crown of Thorns and the
    piece of the True Cross are now preserved in the Treasury at
    Notre-Dame.

    Open daily, free, except Mondays, 11 to 4 or 5. Choose =a very
    bright day= to visit it.]

Examine the =exterior= in detail from the court on the south side. More
even than most Gothic buildings, the Sainte Chapelle is supported
entirely by its massive piers, the wall being merely used for enclosure,
and consisting for the most part of lofty windows. As in most French
Gothic buildings, the choir terminates in a round apse, whereas English
cathedrals have usually a square end. The beautiful light =flèche= or
spire in the centre has been restored. Observe the graceful leaden
angel, holding a cross, on the summit of the _chevet_ or round apse. To
see =the façade=, stand well back opposite it, when you can observe that
the chapel is built in four main stories,—those, namely, of the Lower
Church or crypt, of the Upper Church, of the great rose window (with
later flamboyant tracery), and of the gable-end, partially masked by an
open parapet studded with the royal fleurs-de-lis of France. The Crown
of Thorns surrounds the two pinnacles which flank the fourth story.

The chapel consists of a lower and an upper church. The =Lower Church=
is a mere crypt, which was employed for the servants of the royal
family. Its portal has in its tympanum (or triangular space in the
summit of the arch) the Coronation of the Virgin, and on its centre
pillar a good figure of the Madonna and Child. Enter the Lower Church.
It is low, and has pillars supporting the floor above. In the
polychromatic decoration of the walls and pillars, notice the frequent
repetition of the royal lilies of France, combined with the three
castles of Castille, in honour of Blanche of Castille, the mother of St.
Louis.

Mount to =**the Upper Chapel= (or Sainte Chapelle proper) by the small
spiral staircase in the corner. This soaring pile was the oratory where
the royal family and court attended service; its gorgeousness bespeaks
its origin and nature. It glows like a jewel. First go out of the door
and examine the =exterior and doorway= of the chapel. Its platform was
directly approached in early times from the Palace. The centre pillar
bears a fine figure of Christ. In the tympanum (as over the principal
doorway of almost every important church in Paris and the district) is a
relief of the Last Judgment. Below stands St. Michael with his scales,
weighing the souls; on either side is depicted the Resurrection, with
the Angels of the Last Trump. Above, in the second tier, is Christ,
holding up His hands with the marks of the nails, as a sign of mercy to
the redeemed: to R and L of Him angels display the Crown of Thorns and
the True Cross, to contain which sacred relics the chapel was built.
Extreme L kneels the Blessed Virgin; extreme R, Sainte Geneviève. This
scene of the Last Judgment was adapted with a few alterations from that
above the central west door of Notre-Dame, the Crown of Thorns in
particular being here significantly substituted for the three nails and
spear. The small lozenge reliefs to R and L of the portal are also
interesting. Those to the L represent in a very naïve manner God the
Father creating the world, sun and moon, light, plants, animals, man,
etc. Those to the R give the story of Genesis, Cain and Abel, the Flood,
the Ark, Noah’s Sacrifice, Noah’s Vine, etc. the subjects of all which
the visitor can easily recognise, and is strongly recommended to
identify for himself.

The =interior= consists almost entirely of large and lofty windows, with
magnificent stained glass, in large part ancient. The piers which divide
the windows and alone support the graceful vault of the roof, are
provided with statues of the twelve apostles, a few of them original.
Each bears his well-known symbol. Spell them out if possible. Beneath
the windows, in the quatrefoils of the arcade, are enamelled glass
mosaics representing the martyrdoms of the saints—followers of Christ,
each wearing his own crown of thorns: a pretty conceit wholly in accord
with St. Louis’s ecstatic type of piety. Conspicuous among them are St.
Denis carrying his head, St. Sebastian pierced with arrows, St. Stephen
stoned, St. Lawrence on his gridiron, etc. Examine and identify each
separately. The apse (formerly separated from the body of the building
by a rood-screen, now destroyed) contains the vacant base of the high
altar, behind which stands an arcaded tabernacle, now empty, in whose
shrine were once preserved the Crown of Thorns, the fragment of the True
Cross, and other relics. Amongst them in later times was included the
skull of St. Louis himself in a golden reliquary. Two angels at the
summit of the large centre arch of the arcade bear a representation of
the Crown of Thorns in their hands. Above the tabernacle rises a canopy
or baldacchino, approached by two spiral staircases; from its platform
St. Louis and his successors, the kings of France, were in the habit of
exhibiting with their own hands the actual relics themselves once a year
to the faithful. The golden reliquary in which the sacred objects were
contained was melted down in the Revolution. The small window with bars
to your R, as you face the high altar, was placed there by the
superstitious and timid Louis XI, in order that he might behold the
elevation of the Host and the sacred relics without being exposed to the
danger of assassination. The visitor should also notice the inlaid stone
pavement, with its frequent repetition of the fleur-de-lis and the three
castles. The whole breathes the mysticism of St. Louis: the lightness of
the architecture, the height of the apparently unsupported roof, and the
magnificence of the decoration, render this the most perfect
ecclesiastical building in Paris.

In returning from the chapel, notice on the outside, from the court to
the S., the apparently empty and useless porch, supporting a small room,
which is the one through whose grated window Louis XI used to watch the
elevation.

I would recommend the visitor on his way home from this excursion to
walk round the remainder of the Île de la Cité in the direction of
Notre-Dame, so as to gain a clear idea of the extent of the island,
without, however, endeavouring to examine the cathedral in detail on
this occasion.

Vary your artistic investigations by afternoons in the Bois de Boulogne,
Champs Elysées, etc.


                             B. NOTRE-DAME

    [In very early times, under the Frankish monarchs, the principal
    church of Paris was dedicated to =St. Stephen the Protomartyr=.
    It stood on part of the site now covered by Notre-Dame, and was
    always enumerated first among the churches of the city. A
    smaller edifice, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary, also
    occupied a part of the site of the existing cathedral. About the
    middle of the twelfth century, however, it was resolved to erect
    a much larger cathedral on the Île de la Cité, suitable for the
    capital of so important a country as France had become under
    Louis VI and Louis VII; and since the cult of the Blessed Virgin
    had then long been increasing, it was also decided to dedicate
    the new building to Our Lady alone, to the exclusion of St.
    Stephen. The two early churches were therefore cleared away by
    degrees, and in 1163 the work of erecting the present church was
    begun under Bishop Maurice de Sully, the first stone being laid
    by Pope Alexander III, in person. The relics of St. Stephen were
    reverently conveyed to a new church erected in his honour on the
    hill of Ste. Geneviève, south of the river (now represented by
    St. Étienne-du-Mont, to be described hereafter), and Our Lady
    was left in sole possession of the episcopal edifice.
    Nevertheless, it would seem that the builders feared to excite
    the enmity of so powerful a saint as the Protomartyr; for many
    =memorials of St. Stephen= remain to this day in the existing
    cathedral, and will be pointed out during the course of our
    separate survey.

    =Notre-Dame de Paris= is an edifice in the =Early French Gothic
    style=, the first great church in that style to be erected in
    France, and the model on which many others were afterwards
    based. Begun in 1163, it was consecrated in 1182, but the
    western front was not commenced till 1218, and the nave was only
    finished towards the middle of the 13th century. Much desecrated
    in the Revolution, the cathedral has been on the whole admirably
    restored. It stands at present lower than it once did, owing to
    the gradual rise of the surrounding ground; formerly, it was
    approached by thirteen steps (the regulation number, imitated
    from the Temple at Jerusalem). It has =two western towers=,
    instead of one in the centre where nave and transepts intersect,
    as is usual in England; so have all the cathedrals in France
    which imitate it. This peculiarity is due to the fact that
    French Gothic =aims= especially =at height=, and, the nave being
    raised so very high, a tower could not safely be added above it.
    Other differences between English and French Gothic will be
    pointed out in detail in the course of our survey.

    Though Notre-Dame was the first great building in Paris proper,
    it must be borne in mind that the magnificent Basilica of St.
    Denis, four miles to the north, and also the Abbey Church of St.
    Germain-des-Prés, in the southern suburb, antedated it by
    several years.

    Recollect three things about Notre-Dame. (1) It is =a church of
    Our Lady=: therefore, most of it bears reference to her cult and
    legends. (2) It is the =cathedral church of Paris=: therefore,
    it is full of memorials of local saints—St. Denis, Ste.
    Geneviève, St. Marcel, Bishop of Paris, etc., amongst whom must
    also be classed St. Stephen. (3) It is =a royal church=:
    therefore it contains many reminders of the close alliance of
    Church and State. Thus understood, Notre-Dame becomes an epic in
    stone.

    Open daily, all day long, free. Take your opera-glasses.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Go along the Rue de Rivoli as far as the Square of the Tour St. Jacques.
Walk through the little garden. Notice, in passing, =*=the tower—all
that now remains of the church of St. Jacques-de-la-Boucherie—used at
present as a meteorological observatory. Turn down the Rue St. Martin to
the Pont Notre-Dame. In front, L, stands the Hôtel-Dieu; R, the Tribunal
de Commerce; centre, the Marché-aux-Fleurs; at its back, the Prefecture
de Police. Continue straight along the Rue de la Cité, passing, R, the
main _façade_ of the modern Palais de Justice (with a glimpse of the
Ste. Chapelle) till you come to the broad and open Place Notre-Dame
(generally known by its mediæval name of the Parvis). Take a seat under
the horse-chestnuts on the north side of the Place, opposite the
equestrian statue of Charlemagne, in order to examine the =façade= of
the cathedral.

The =**west front=, dating from the beginning of the 13th century (later
than the rest), consists of two stories, flanked by towers of four
stories. The _first_ story contains the three main portals: L, the door
of Our Lady; centre, of her Son; R, of her Mother. On the buttresses
between them stand four statues: extreme L, St. Stephen; extreme R, St.
Marcel, Bishop of Paris (a canonized holder of this very see); centre L,
the Church, triumphant; centre R, the Synagogue, dejected (representing
between them the Law and the Gospel). This first story is crowned and
terminated by the Galerie des Rois, containing figures of the kings of
Israel and Judah, ancestors of the Blessed Virgin (others say, kings of
France to the date of the building), destroyed in the great Revolution,
but since restored. On the parapet above it stand, R and L, Adam and
Eve; centre, Our Lady and Child with two adoring angels—the Fall and
the Redemption. The _second_ story contains the great rose window and
two side-arches with double windows. The _third_ story of the towers
consists of a graceful open-work screen, continued in front of the nave,
so as to hide its ugly gable (which is visible from further back in the
Place), thus giving the main front a fallacious appearance of having
three stories. The final or _fourth_ story of the towers is pierced on
each side by two gigantic windows, adding lightness to their otherwise
massive block. The contemplated spires have never been added. This
_façade_ has been copied with modifications in many other French
cathedrals.

Now approach the front, to examine in detail the =**great portals=,
deeply recessed, as is usual in French cathedrals, owing to the massive
masonry of the towers. The left or _northern_ doorway—that of =Our
Lady= (by which her church is usually entered) bears on its central pier
a statue of the Virgin and Child; beneath her feet are scenes from the
temptation of Eve, who brought into the world sin, and the first
murderer Cain, as contrasted with her descendant, the Blessed Virgin,
who brought into the world the Redeemer of mankind. Over Our Lady’s
head, a tabernacle, representing the relics preserved within. In the
tympanum, first tier, L, three patriarchs; R, three kings, typifying the
ancestors of the Blessed Virgin. Above, second tier, the Entombment of
the Virgin, placed in her sarcophagus by angels, and attended by the
apostles with their familiar symbols. Higher still, third tier, the
Coronation of the Virgin, in the presence of her Son, with adoring
angels. The whole thus represents the Glory of Our Lady. At the sides
below, life-size figures; extreme L, Constantine, first Christian
Emperor; extreme R, Pope Silvester, to whom he is supposed to have given
the patrimony of St. Peter—the two representing the union of Church and
State. Next to these the great local saints: L, St. Denis, bearing his
head, and guided by two angels; R, St. John Baptist, St. Stephen, and
Ste. Geneviève, with the devil endeavouring to extinguish her taper, and
a sympathizing angel. The figures on the arch represent spectators of
the Coronation of the Virgin. Minor subjects—signs of the Zodiac,
Months, etc.—I leave to the ingenuity and skill of the reader. The
=*=_centre_ doorway (commonly called the Porte du Jugement) is that of
the Redeemer, =Our Lady’s Son=; on its central pier, fine modern figure
of Christ blessing; above, in the tympanum, the usual Last Judgment.
First tier (modern) the General Resurrection, with angels of the last
trump, and kings, queens, bishops, knights, etc., rising from their
tombs; conspicuous among them is naturally St. Stephen. Second tier, St.
Michael the Archangel weighing souls, with devils and angels in waiting,
the devils cheating; R, the wicked (on Christ’s left) hauled in chains
to hell; L, the saints (on His right) ascending to glory. On the summit,
third tier, the New Jerusalem, with Christ enthroned, showing His wounds
in mercy, flanked by adoring angels holding the cross, spear, and nails;
L, the Blessed Virgin, patroness of this church; and R, Ste. Geneviève,
patroness of Paris, interceding for their votaries. (Last figure is
usually, but I think incorrectly, identified as St. John the Evangelist,
who has no function on a Parisian Cathedral.) This relief, closely
copied at the Ste. Chapelle, is itself imitated from one at St. Denis.
On the lintels the Wise (L) and Foolish (R) Virgins; L and R on jambs,
life-size figures of the Twelve Apostles, with their usual symbols.
Observe the beautiful ironwork of the hinges. The third or _southern_
portal, that of St. Anne—the =Mother of the Virgin=—contains older
work than the other two, replaced from the earlier church on the same
site. The style of the figures is therefore Romanesque, not Gothic; so
is the architecture represented in them. On the centre pier, St. Marcel,
Bishop of Paris. Above, tympanum, history of St. Anne; first tier,
centre, the meeting of Joachim and Anna at the Golden Gate; L, Marriage
of the Virgin; R, her Presentation by St. Anne in the Temple, etc.
Second tier, the Nativity, and the visit of the Magi to Herod; at the
summit, third tier, Madonna enthroned, with adoring angels, a king, and
a bishop—Church and State once more identified. The work on this
doorway much resembles that at St. Denis. Magnificent iron hinges,
brought from old St. Stephen’s.

Walk round the quay on the South side to examine =the body of the
church=. Notice the lofty Nave, and almost equally lofty Aisles, with
(later) side-chapels built out as far as the level of the Transept;
also, the flying buttresses. As in most French churches, the transepts
are short, and project but little from the aisles. The South Transept
has a good late _façade_ with two rose-windows. Its portal—ill
visible—is dedicated (in compensation) to the displaced St. Stephen,
and contains on the pier a figure of the saint, robed, as usual, as a
deacon; in the tympanum are reliefs of his preaching, martyrdom, death,
and glorification. Note, to the R, a small relief of St. Martin of Tours
dividing his cloak with the beggar.

Enter the little garden further east, which occupies the site of the
former archevêché, in order to observe the characteristic French form of
the =choir=—a lofty and narrow apse, with apsidal aisles and circular
chapels added below, the whole forming what is called a _chevet_. The
light flying buttresses which support the soaring and slender choir add
greatly to the beauty and picturesqueness of the building. Pretty modern
Gothic fountain. Quit the garden and continue round the Northern side of
the Cathedral. The first (small) door at which we arrive—the Porte
Rouge—admits the canons. It is a late addition, built in 1407 by Jean
sans Peur, Duke of Burgundy, in expiation of his murder of the Duke of
Orleans; the donor and his wife kneel on each side of the Coronation of
the Virgin in the tympanum. Notice here the gargoyles and the graceful
architecture of the supports to the buttresses. The second (larger)
door—the Portail du Cloître, so called from the cloisters long
demolished—in the North Transept contains a good statue of the Madonna
on the pier; above, in the tympanum, confused figures tell obscurely the
legend of the monk Theophilus, who sold his soul to the devil. Stand
opposite this door, on the far pavement, to observe the architecture of
the North Transept. The best point of view for the whole body of the
cathedral, as distinct from the _façade_, can be obtained from the Quai
de Montebello on the south side of the river.

To visit the =interior=, enter by the L, or northern door of the
_façade_—that of Our Lady. The lofty nave is flanked by double aisles,
all supported by powerful piers. Walk across the church and notice all
five vistas. Observe the height and the delicate arches of the
triforium, or pierced gallery of the second story, as well as the
windows of the clerestory above it—the part of the nave which rises
higher than the aisles, and opens freely to the exterior. Walk down the
outer R aisle. The side-chapels, each dedicated to a separate saint,
contain the altars and statues of their patrons. Notice the shortness of
the Transepts, with their great rose windows; observe also the vaulting
of the roof, especially at the intersection of the four main arms of the
building. The entrance to the =choir= and =ambulatory= is in the R or S
Transept. Close by, near the pillar, Notre-Dame de Paris, _the_
wonder-working mediæval statue of Our Lady. The double aisles are
continued round the choir, which is separated from them by a wall and
gateways. Approach the brass grills, in order to inspect the interior of
the choir, whose furniture was largely modernised and ruined by Louis
XIV, in accordance with a misguided vow of his father. Chapels surround
the ambulatory, many of them with good glass windows and tolerable
frescoes. The chapel at the end is that of Our Lady of the Seven
Sorrows.

By far the most interesting object in the interior, however, is the
series of =**high reliefs in stone=, gilt and painted (on the wall
between choir and ambulatory), executed early in the 14th century by
Jehan Ravy and his nephew, Jehan de Bouteillier, which, though inferior
in merit to those in the same position in Amiens cathedral, are
admirable examples of animated and vigorous French sculpture of their
period. The series begins on the N side of the choir, at the point most
remote from the grill which leads to the Transept. The remaining
subjects (for some, like the Annunciation, are destroyed) comprise the
Visitation; Adoration of the Shepherds; Nativity; Adoration of the Magi
(note the Three Kings, representing the three ages of man; the oldest,
as usual, has removed his crown, and is offering his gift); the Massacre
of the Innocents; the Flight into Egypt (where a grotesque little
temple, containing two odd small gods, quaintly represents the
prevalence of idolatry); the Presentation in the Temple; Christ among
the Doctors; the Baptism in Jordan (with attendant angel holding a
towel); the Miracle at Cana; the Entry into Jerusalem (with Zacchæus in
the tree, and the gate of the city); the Last Supper; the Washing of the
Apostles’ feet; and the Agony in the Garden. The tourist should
carefully examine all these subjects, the treatment of which strikes a
keynote. Similar scenes, almost identical in their figures, will be
found in abundance at Cluny and elsewhere. Note, for example, the
symbolical Jordan in the Baptism, with St. John pouring water from a
cup, and the attendant angel, all of which we shall often recognise
hereafter.

The series is continued on the other (S) side of the choir (a little
later in date, with names in Latin underneath; better modelled, but
neither so quaint nor so vigorous). The subjects begin by the grill of
the South Transept, with the “Noli me tangere” or Apparition to Mary
Magdalen (Christ as a gardener); the Apparition to the Marys; to Simon
Peter; to the Disciples at Emmaus (dressed as mediæval pilgrims); to the
Eleven Apostles; to the Ten and Thomas; to the Eleven by the sea of
Tiberias; to the Disciples in Galilee; and on the Mount of Olives. The
intervening and remaining subjects—Scourging, Crucifixion, Ascension,
etc.—were ruthlessly destroyed by Louis XIV, in order to carry out his
supposed improvements in accordance with the vow of his father, Louis
XIII. The woodwork of the choir-stalls, executed by his order, is
celebrated, and uninteresting. You may omit it. The Treasury contains
little of artistic value. The Crown of Thorns still figures in its
inventory.

Leave the Choir by the door by which you entered it, and seat yourself
for a while at the intersection of the Nave and Transepts, in order to
gain a good idea of the Apse, the Choir, and the general arrangement of
the shortly cruciform building. Observe the beautiful vaulting of the
roof, and the extent to which the church is born on its piers alone, the
intervening walls (pierced by windows and triforium-arches) being
intended merely for purposes of enclosure. Note also the fine ancient
glass of the rose windows. Quit the church by the North or Left Aisle,
and come back to it often.

Those who are not afraid of a spiral staircase, mostly well lighted,
should =ascend= the Left or =North Tower= (tickets fifty cents. each, at
the base of the tower). Stop near the top to inspect the gallery, with
the famous birds and demons. The view hence embraces from the front the
Tower of St. Jacques; behind it, the hill of Montmartre, with the white
turrets and cupolas of the church of the Sacré-Cœur; a little to the L,
St. Eustache; then the Tribunal de Commerce; St. Augustin; the Louvre;
the roof of the Ste. Chapelle; the Arc de Triomphe; the twin towers of
the Trocadéro; the Eiffel Tower; the gilded dome of the Invalides; St.
Sulpice, etc. The Île de la Cité is well seen hence as an island. Note
also the gigantic size of the open screen, which looked so small from
below. Ascend to the top. Good general panorama of the town and valley.
This is the best total view of Paris, far superior to that from the
Eiffel Tower, being so much more central.

Return by the Pont d’Arcole (whence you get a capital notion of the
bifurcation of the Seine around the Île St. Louis), and then pass the
modern Hôtel-de-Ville, with St. Gervais behind it, on your way home to
the Rue de Rivoli.

[Illustration: [Map of] HISTORIC PARIS]


                         MAP OF HISTORIC PARIS.

_This Map represents approximately the growth of Paris, outside the
island, at different epochs. Earlier buildings are printed in black;
later streets and edifices are shown by means of dotted lines. But the
Map does_ =not= _represent the aspect of Paris at any one time; it
merely illustrates this Guide: thus, the original Château of the Louvre
is marked in black; the later Palace is dotted; whereas the Madeleine, a
much more modern building than the Louvre of François I, is again
inserted in black, because it does not interfere with the site of any
more ancient building. In very early times the town spread south as far
only as Cluny, and north (just opposite the island) as far as the Rue de
Rivoli. The subsequent_ =walls= _are marked approximately on the Map,
with the chief edifices enclosed by them. The fortifications of Louis
XIII were demolished by Louis XIV, who substituted for them the broad
streets still known as the_ =Boulevards=. _This Map shows, roughly
speaking, the extent of Paris under Louis XIV; by comparing it with
Baedeker’s Map of Modern Paris, the small relative size of the
17th-century town will be at once appreciated. Nevertheless, the inner
nucleus here mapped out contains almost everything worthy of note in the
existing city._




                                   II
                         THE LEFT OR SOUTH BANK


    [THE earliest =overflow= of Paris was from the Île de la Cité
    to the =Left= or =South Bank= (_Rive Gauche_).

    The reason for this overflow is clear. The city was situated on
    a small island, near the head of navigation; it guarded the
    passage of the Seine by the double bridge. Naturally, however,
    at a time when all civilization lay to the south, as the town
    began to grow, it spread southward, towards Rome, Lyons,
    Marseilles, Bordeaux, Toulouse, Arles, Nîmes, and the Roman
    culture. To the north at that time lay nothing but comparative
    barbarism—the Britons and the Germans; or later, the English,
    the Normans, and the Teutonic hordes. Hence, from a very early
    date, Paris first =ran southward= along the road to Rome.
    Already in Roman times, here stood the palace of Constantius
    Chlorus and Julian, now the Thermes—the fortress which formed
    the _tête du pont_ for the city. Later, the southern suburb
    became the seat of learning and law; it was known by the name
    which it still in part retains of the Université, but is oftener
    now called the _Quartier Latin_. At first, however, only a small
    portion of the Left Bank was built over. But gradually the area
    of the new town spread from the immediate neighbourhood of the
    old Hôtel-Dieu, with its church or chapel of St.
    Julien-le-Pauvre, to the modern limit of the Boulevard St.
    Germain; and thence again, by the time of Louis Quatorze, to the
    further Boulevards just south of the Luxembourg. It is
    interesting to note, too, that all this southern side, long
    known as the Université, still retains its position as the
    learned district. Not only does it include the students’
    region—the Quartier Latin—with many of the chief artistic
    studios, but it embraces in particular the Sorbonne, or
    University, the Institute of France, with its various branches
    (Académie Française, Académie des Inscriptions et
    Belles-Lettres, Académie des Sciences, des Beaux-Arts, etc.),
    the École des Beaux-Arts, the École de Médicine, the Collège de
    France, the Lycées St. Louis, Louis-le-Grand, and Henri IV, the
    École Polytechnique, the École des Mines, the Bibliothèque Ste.
    Geneviève, the Jardin des Plantes, and the Luxembourg Museum of
    Modern Paintings. In short, the Left Bank represents literary,
    scientific, artistic, and educational Paris—the students in
    law, arts, and medicine, with their own subventioned theatre,
    the Odéon, and their libraries, schools, laboratories, and
    _cafés_. It is further noticeable that these institutions
    cluster thickest round the older part of the southern suburb,
    just opposite the Cité, while almost all of them lie within the
    limits of the outer boulevards of Louis XIV.

    The =Quartier Latin= surrounds the Sorbonne, and is traversed by
    the modern Boulevard St. Michel. The =Faubourg St. Germain=,
    immediately to the west of it (surrounding the old Abbey of St.
    Germain-des-Prés) is of rather later date; it owes its origin in
    large part to the Renaissance spirit, and especially to Marie de
    Médicis’ palace of the Luxembourg. It is still the residence of
    many of the old nobility, and is regarded as the distinctively
    aristocratic quarter of Paris, in the restricted sense, while
    the district lying around the Champs Élysées is rather
    plutocratic and modern than noble in the older signification of
    the word.

    The visitor will therefore bear in mind distinctly that the
    =South Side= is =the Paris of the Students=.]


                      A. THE ROMAN PALACE AND THE
                             MUSÉE DE CLUNY

    [The primitive nucleus of the suburb on the South Side consists
    of the =Roman fortress palace=, the _tête du pont_ of the Left
    Bank, now known as the Thermes, owing to the fact that its
    principal existing remains include only the ruins of the baths
    or _thermæ_. This colossal building, probably erected by
    Constantius Chlorus, the father of Constantine, covered an
    enormous area south of the river. After the Frankish conquest,
    it still remained the residence of the Merwing and Karling kings
    on the rare occasions when they visited Paris; and it does not
    seem to have fallen into utter decay till a comparatively late
    date in the Middle Ages. With the Norman irruptions, however,
    and the rise of the real French monarchs under Eudes and the
    Capets, the new sovereigns found it safest to transfer their
    seat to the Palace on the Island (now the Palais de Justice),
    and the Roman fortress was gradually dismantled. In 1340 the
    gigantic ruins came into the hands of the powerful Benedictine
    Abbey of Cluny, near Mâcon, in Burgundy; and about 1480, the
    abbots began to erect on the spot =a town mansion= for
    themselves, which still bears the name of the =Hôtel de Cluny=.
    The letter K, the mark of Charles VIII (1483–1498), occurs on
    many parts of the existing building, and fixes its epoch. The
    house was mostly built by Jacques d’Amboise, abbot, in 1490. The
    style is late Gothic, with Renaissance features. The abbots,
    however, seldom visited Paris, and they frequently placed their
    town house accordingly at the disposition of the kings of
    France. Mary of England, sister of Henry VIII, and widow of
    Louis XII, occupied it thus in 1515, soon after its completion.
    It was usual for the queens of France to wear white as mourning;
    hence her apartment is still known as the _Chambre de la reine
    blanche_.

    At the Revolution, when the property of the monasteries was
    confiscated, the Hôtel de Cluny was sold, and passed at last, in
    1833, into the hands of M. du Sommerard, a zealous antiquary,
    who began the priceless collection of works of art which it
    contains. He died in 1842, and the Government then bought the
    house and museum, and united it with the Roman ruin at its back
    under the title of _Musée des Thermes et de l’Hôtel de Cluny_.
    Since that time many further objects have been added to the
    collection.

    At Cluny the actual building forms one of the most interesting
    parts of the sight, and is in itself a museum. It is a charming
    specimen of a late mediæval French mansion; and the works of art
    it contains are of the highest artistic value. I am able briefly
    to describe only what seem to me the most important out of its
    many thousands of beautiful exhibits. At least two whole days
    should be devoted to Cluny—one to the lower and one to the
    upper floor. Much more, if possible.]

[Illustration: MUSÉE DE CLUNY GROUND FLOOR]

Go to the Place du Châtelet; cross the bridge, and the Île de la Cité;
also, the Pont St. Michel to the South Side. Good view of Notre-Dame to
L. In front lies the modern Boulevard St. Michel, with the Fontaine St.
Michel in the foreground (statue by Duret). Continue along the Boulevard
till you reach the Boulevard St. Germain, another great modern
thoroughfare which cuts right through the streets of the old Faubourg
and the narrow alleys of the Latin Quarter. The Garden at the corner
contains all that remains of the Roman Palace. Notice its solid masonry
as you pass. Then, take the first turn to the L, the Rue du Sommerard,
which leads you at once to the door of the =Museum=.

Notice the late semi-Gothic =Gateway=, resembling that of an Oxford
college. Pass through the flat-arched gate into the handsome courtyard.
To the L is a late Gothic _loggia_, containing a few antiques. In front
stands the main building, with square windows and high dormers, bearing
the staff and pilgrim’s scallop, the symbol of St. James, with the
cardinal’s hat and scutcheons and devices of the family d’Amboise, thus
indicating the name of Jacques d’Amboise, the abbot who built it.
Entrance to the R. Open free, daily, 11 to 4 or 5, except Mondays.

The first suite of rooms which we enter form some of the apartments of
the original building. Observe the fine timbered =ceilings=.

Room I.—Panels, etc., in wood-carving.

Room II.—=*=Fine French chimney-piece, by Hugues Lallement, dated 1562,
representing Christ and the Woman of Samaria at the well, brought from a
house at Châlons-sur-Marne. R and L of entrance (=wall A= on plan),
wooden seats, with canopy, holding good Gothic wood-carvings. Notice L
of door, a Deposition in the Tomb; (801) Madonna and Child; then, Birth
of the Virgin, with St. Anne in a bed; and below, head of a Saint,
hollow, intended to contain her skull or relics. Near it (762),
decapitation of St. John Baptist, German, 16th century; and (789) Death
of the Virgin. R of doorway, three reliquary heads, and (783 and 784)
two groups of the Education of the Virgin. Above, several
representations of the Circumcision. =Wall B=, between the windows,
(745) quaint reliquary head of St. Mabile, one of St. Ursula’s 11,000
virgins, the hair gilt, Italian, 15th century; near it, Angel of the
Annunciation; Madonna and Child; and Flight into Egypt. Fine wooden
chests. In the =cases=, collections of =shoes=, uninteresting.

Room III.—Wood-carvings, more or less Gothic. =Wall A=, (788) Madonna
supporting the dead Christ, under a canopy, 16th century; (816) Holy
Women, with small figure of the donor, kneeling. (709) large carved
altar-piece, end of 15th century; in the centre, Crucifixion, with
quaintly brutal Roman soldiers, fainting Madonna, and Holy Women in
fantastic head-dresses of the period; below, Nativity, and Adoration of
the Magi; L side, above, Flagellation, with grotesquely cruel soldiers;
beneath it, angels displaying the napkin of St. Veronica; R side, above,
Deposition in the Tomb; beneath it, angels supporting the instruments of
the Passion—a splendid piece of Flemish carving. Above, two statues of
St. George. Further on (712), votive triptych against the plague,
Flemish, carved, with painted flaps on the doors; L, St. Sebastian, with
arrows of the pestilence; R, St. Roch exhibiting his plague-spot, with
angel who consoled him and dog who fed him (see the legend in Mrs.
Jameson); centre, Adoration of the Magi; the Three Kings represent (as
usual) the three ages of man, and also the three old continents, Europe,
Asia, Africa; hence the youngest king is represented as a Moor. Other
episodes (Flight into Egypt, Return of Magi, etc.), in the
background—late 15th century. =Wall B=, first window, stained glass,
German panes, 15th century, Annunciation, in two panels (1960 and 1957).
Beyond it (830), in woodwork, 16th century, Coronation of the Virgin by
Christ and God the Father—a somewhat unusual treatment. Above (758),
Stem of Jesse, representing the descent of Christ; notice David with his
harp and other kings of Israel; late 15th century. Second window (1958
and 1959), St. Hubert and St. Lambert, companions to the Annunciation;
(721) dainty little Crucifixion (16th century), in  German
wood-carving; (1686) Flemish painting, school of Van Eyck, Crucifixion.
=Wall D=, windows (1961 and 1962), St. Peter and St. George; (1963 and
1964) St. Hubert, and St. Antony Abbot (with his pig, staff, and bell).
=Wall C=, altar-piece, unnumbered; subjects much as opposite; centre,
Crucifixion; beneath it, Nativity, Adoration of Magi. L, Way to Calvary
(with grotesquely brutal soldiers); beneath it, Annunciation (notice the
_prie-dieu_, book, and bed in the background), and Visitation; R,
Descent from the Cross, with St. John and the Marys; beneath it,
Circumcision, and Presentation in the Temple. (710) Deposition from the
Cross, very good, with painted wings from the Passion. All the
wood-carvings in this room deserve careful attention. Inspect them all,
and, as far as possible, discover their subjects.

Room IV.—Fine Renaissance chimney-piece, by Hugues Lallement, 16th
century, representing Actæon transformed into a stag by Diana, whom he
has surprised in the act of bathing. (Subjects from the myth of Diana
are favourites with the French Renaissance artists, owing to the
influence of Diane de Poitiers.) From Châlons-sur-Marne, same house as
that in Room II. =Wall A= (1779 and 1778), Renaissance classical
paintings, part of a large series continued elsewhere; (1428) fine
Renaissance carved cabinet (Diana and Chimæras); contrast this and
neighbouring Renaissance work with the mediæval carvings in adjacent
rooms. =Wall B= (6329), quaint old Flemish tapestry, representing the
Angels appearing to the Shepherds; the Nativity; the Adoration of the
Magi; and the Agony in the Garden. Study the arrangement of all these
figures, which are conventional, and will reappear in many other
examples of various arts. =Wall C=, R and L of fireplace, good
Renaissance wood-carving. =Wall D=, fine cabinets. In the cases, medals.

Room V, to the side. =Debased Italian and Spanish work= of the 17th and
18th centuries. =Centre=, Adoration of the Magi, a meretricious
Neapolitan group of the 17th century, intended to place in a church as a
Christmas _berceau_. The costumes of the Three Kings, representing the
three continents, the ruined temple in which the action takes place, and
the antique statue in the background of the Madonna and St. Joseph,
should all be noticed. Contemptible as a work of art, this florid
composition of dolls is interesting and valuable for its spirited
arrangement, and for the light it casts on the conception of the
subject. The room also contains other similar church furniture of the
17th and 18th centuries. Observe their theatrical tinsel style and their
affected pietism, as contrasted with the simplicity, naïveté, and truth
of earlier periods. Take, as an extreme example of this tendency, the
relief of the Annunciation on =Wall D=, to the R of the entrance door,
and compare it with examples of the same subject in other rooms of the
collection. =Wall B=, facing the entrance, good case of miscellaneous
woodwork containing excellent Spanish art of this bad period—a Last
Supper, a St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, a Massacre of the
Innocents, the Faint of St. Catherine, St. Antony the Abbot, St. Antony
of Padua carrying the infant Christ, and other figures. A large gilt
tabernacle, on =Wall C=, also contains a debased figure of St. Anthony
of Padua, from an altar dedicated to the Saint. Identify as many of
these saints as possible, and remember their symbols.

We now quit the older suite of apartments, and enter a large central
glass-covered court—ROOM VI, entirely modern. The =Corridor= is
occupied by early altar paintings, for the most part of little value.
Notice on the L, by the staircase (1701), a Giottesque Madonna and
Child—Florentine, 15th century. Near it (1666), two oval panels,
representing the Annunciation, divided (as frequently happens with this
subject) into two distinct portions, and probably flanking a doorway in
their original position—Italian, 14th century. All the paintings on
this wall, mostly unsatisfactory as works of art, are valuable for their
symbolism and the light they throw on the evolution of their subjects.
For example: (1676), between the Annunciation pictures, represents the
distribution of holy wine which has touched the relics (I think) of St.
Hubert. Further on, we have a group of six Apostles; beginning from the
R, St. Peter with the keys, St. John Evangelist with the cup and
serpent, St. Andrew with his cross, St. Bartholomew with his knife, St.
James the Greater with the pilgrim’s staff and scallop, and St. James
the Less with a crosier and book. R of the staircase is a stone figure
of St. Denis bearing his head, French, 15th century; also, a good statue
of the Madonna, a little later. Above the doorway, R, are portions of a
large Spanish altar-piece; in the centre, the Crucifixion; extreme R,
Assumption of the Virgin, etc. Beyond it comes the continuation of the
tabernacle already noticed, containing the six remaining Apostles, with
the symbols of their martyrdom. Next, a fine Spanish altar-piece of the
15th century, from a church of St. Martin; in the centre, St. Martin
dividing his cloak with the beggar; round it various other subjects,
among them St. Antony with his pig, St. Stephen, in deacon’s robes, with
the stones of his martyrdom, St. Jerome in the desert beating his bosom
with a flint before the crucifix, St. Francis displaying the stigmata or
five wounds of Christ, St. Paul the hermit with his lion, etc. R,
towards the courtyard, a fine figure of Adam from St. Denis, a splendid
example of the best French nude sculpture of the 14th century.

We now enter the =covered courtyard= or ROOM VI proper, filled with fine
examples of French mediæval sculpture. Several of the objects bear
labels sufficiently descriptive. I will therefore only call attention to
a few among them. =Wall D=, two wooden Flemish statues (Our Lady and St.
John at Calvary), R and L of the doorway; (417) carved marble monument
of the 10th or 11th century; very fine workmanship, with distinct
reminiscences of the antique. =Wall A=, =*=Magnificent stone frieze or
reredos, originally gilt and , representing the History of St.
Benedict, from St. Denis; in the centre, Baptism in Jordan (compare the
relief of the same subject in Notre-Dame); R and L, preaching and
miracles of St. Benedict (overthrow of idols, cure of a dying woman).
Middle of wall (6328), fine Italian tapestry, 16th century, representing
the Adoration of the Magi; observe the attitude of the kings, together
with the ox and ass in the background, invariable concomitants of the
Nativity in art. Beneath (728), early wooden Madonna (13th century,
Auvergne), with Byzantine aspect. Beautiful Romanesque
capitals—Creation of Eve, etc. =Wall B*=(237), exquisite stone frieze
or reredos from the church of St. Germer, about 1259, much-mutilated,
but originally one of the most perfect specimens of French 13th century
carving; it still betrays traces of colour. In the centre, Crucifixion,
with Virgin and St. John: on either side (as at Notre-Dame), the Church,
with cross and chalice, and the Synagogue, with eyes blinded: then, R
and L of cross, St. Peter and St. Paul: beyond them, Annunciation and
Visitation: finally, L, St. Ouen, uncle of St. Germer, cures a wounded
warrior; R, St. Germer asks leave of King Dagobert to found the Abbey
from which this came. Above it (509), exquisitely grotesque relief of
the Resurrection with sleeping Roman soldiers, one of a set in
alabaster, French 14th century (500 to 512), all of which deserve to be
inspected; meanings of all are obvious except (501) St. Ursula. Still
higher, fragment of the original Last Judgment on the central west door
of Notre-Dame, Paris, before the restoration—interesting as showing the
grounds on which Viollet-le-Duc proceeded; (6322), tapestry, Arras, 15th
century, various scriptural subjects, confused, but decipherable.
Beneath it, L, =*=beautiful stone relief (reredos) of the legend of St.
Eustace, from the church of St. Denis—a fine French work of the 14th
century. In the centre, Crucifixion; extreme L, St. Eustace, hunting, is
converted by the apparition of the Christ between the horns of the stag
he is pursuing; further R, his baptism, nude, in a font, as in all early
representations; still further R, his trials and history; while he
crosses a river with one of his children, a wolf seizes one, while a
lion devours the other; last of all, reunited miraculously with his
family, he and they are burned alive as martyrs by the Emperor Trajan,
in a brazen bull. Observe naïf boy with bellows. The whole most
delicately and gracefully sculptured. Next,  stone relief of the
Passion—French 14th century; subjects, from R to L: the kiss of Judas
(observe Peter drawing the sword); Flagellation; Bearing of the Cross,
with Simon of Cyrene; Deposition in the Tomb; Resurrection; and Christ
in Hades, delivering Adam and Eve from the jaws of death, realistically
represented here and elsewhere as the mouth of a monster; notice in this
work the colour and the Gothic architecture and decoration of the
background, which help one to understand features that are missing in
many other of these reredoses. Then, stone relief of the Annunciation,
Visitation, and Nativity, very simply treated: notice the usual ox and
ass in the manger. Above it, =*=(4763), good mosaic of the Madonna and
Child with adoring angels, by Davide Ghirlandajo, of Florence, placed by
the President Jean de Ganay (as the inscription attests) in the church
of St. Merri at Paris. =Wall C= (513–518), interesting alabaster reliefs
of the Passion, French, 14th century. Between them, Coronation of the
Virgin, French, 15th century. (725) Good wooden figure of St. Louis,
covered with fleur-de-lis in gold, from the Sainte Chapelle. [Here is
the door which leads to the Musée des Thermes. Pass it by for the
present.] Beyond it, continuation of the alabaster reliefs (514 and
517), etc.: examine them closely. Between them (435), Circumcision, in
marble, early 15th century, French, full of character. Beneath it (429,
etc.), admirable figures of mourners, from the tomb of Philippe le
Hardi, at Dijon, 14th century. =Wall D=, again (1291), terra-cotta,
: Madonna and St. Joseph, with angels, adoring the Child (child
missing), ox and ass in background; R, Adoration of Magi; notice once
more the conventional arrangement: L, Marriage of the Virgin, a high
priest joining her hand to Joseph’s, all under Gothic canopies, 15th
century, from the chapel of St. Éloy, near Bernay, Eure. I omit many
works of high merit.

The =centre= of this room is occupied by several good statues. Examine
each; the descriptive labels are usually sufficient. (A noble =*=St.
Catherine; St. Barbara with her tower; St. Sebastian, pierced with the
holes where the arrows have been; a beautiful long-haired wooden
Madonna; a fine [Pisan] Angel of the Annunciation, in wood, etc.) Also,
several excellent figures of Our Lady. The large part played by the
Madonna in this Room, indeed, is typical of her importance in France,
and especially in Paris, from the 13th century onward. The church of
Notre-Dame is partly a result, partly a cause, of this special cult of
the Blessed Virgin.

Room VII (beyond the corridor, a modern covered courtyard).—=Tapestries
and textile fabrics=, interesting chiefly to ladies. On =Wall A=, and
others, Flemish tapestry, representing the History of Bathsheba, much
admired and very ugly; compare it with the tapestry of the Lady and the
Unicorn, to be visited later in ROOM III, upstairs, contrasting them as
models of what such work should and should not be. =Wall B=, admirable
Renaissance relief of the Cardinal Virtues. Above it, a good Madonna,
and figures of Grammar and Astronomy. =Wall C=, Caryatid of inferior
art, French, 16th century. =**=(448), Admirable group of the Three
Fates, attributed to Germain Pilon, the great French sculptor of the
16th century, whom we shall meet again at the Louvre—a fine specimen of
the plastic art of the Renaissance, said to represent Diane de Poitiers
and her daughters. Below =**=(447), exquisite Renaissance bas-relief of
the huntress Diana, of the School of Jean Goujon, again in allusion to
Diane de Poitiers. (478) Good mask of the same epoch. (251) Virgin and
Child, meretricious; in the decadent style of the 16th century; very
French in type, foreshadowing the Louis XV spirit—the Madonna resembles
a little-reputable court lady. =Wall D= (463, etc.), Judgment of
Solomon, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Annunciation, and other reliefs
in the florid and least pleasing French style of the 16th and 17th
centuries. Table by the doorway =**=(449), exquisite small marble statue
of the Deserted Ariadne (perhaps Diane de Poitiers), in the best
Renaissance manner, probably by Germain Pilon: found in the Loire, near
Diane’s _château_ of Chaumont. Beside it, three sleeping Venuses, one of
which is also said to be Diane de Poitiers, the goddess of the
Renaissance in Paris. L of doorway (457), singular marble relief of
Christ and the Magdalen after the Resurrection (Noli me tangere); the
Saviour strangely represented (as often) in a gardener’s hat and with a
spade; in the background, angels by the empty sepulchre; Flemish, florid
style of the 16th century. Beside it (467 and 468), two exquisite
Renaissance reliefs of Venus. In front of it, on the table =*=(479),
Entombment, with the body of Christ placed in the sarcophagus by Joseph
of Arimathea and Nicodemus—portraits, I think, of the donors.

ROOM VIII—Textile fabrics and ecclesiastical robes. =Wall B=, L of door
(487), pretty but meretricious little group of Venus and Cupids, with
grapes, French style of the 17th century; the national taste still more
distinctly showing itself. R of door (459), in two separate figures, a
quaint Annunciation—French, 16th century, frankly anachronistic. Close
by (464), the Judgment of Solomon, same school and period. Above (563),
clever small alabaster group of the Rape of the Sabines, after Giovanni
da Bologna. These all stand on a handsome French carved chest of the
16th century. =Wall C=, greatly worn altar-relief of the Adoration of
the Magi, from the chapel of the Château d’Anet, French Renaissance,
16th century. Above it (446), Mary Magdalen, kneeling, with long hair
and the alabaster box of ointment—her symbol in art—15th century,
curious. At the back, gilt and painted figures of the Holy Trinity, from
the demolished church of St. Marcel at Paris, 17th century. Similar
representations of the Trinity, showing the three Persons thus, are
common in Italian art. Further on (493), good figure of a shepherd,
French, 16th century. =Wall A= (266), curious altar back, Herod ordering
the Massacre of the Innocents. (267) St. Eustace crossing the river (see
Room VI) with the lion and the wolf seizing his children. A very
different treatment from the previous one. (291) A lintel of a chimney,
Flemish, dated 1555; centre, a river-god; L and R, pelican and eagle;
between the figures, Faith, Hope, Charity and Prudence. (273) Madonna
and Child (Notre-Dame de l’Espérance, throned on an anchor). On the
wall, far L, interesting piece of French 14th century tapestry, with a
legend of St. Marcel and St. John Evangelist, most naïvely represented.

ROOM IX.—State coaches and Sedan chairs of the 17th century, as ugly as
can be imagined. They need not detain you.

                 *        *        *        *        *

[Illustration: MUSÉE DE CLUNY FIRST FLOOR]

The =staircase= to the FIRST FLOOR is in the Corridor to Room VI.
Observe the staircase itself, in carved wood, bearing the arms of France
and Navarre, and also the crowned initials of Henri IV and Marie de
Médicis. It was formerly in the old Chambre des Comptes of Paris, and
was re-erected here at the installation of the Museum.

The =corridor= above contains arms and armour. At the head of the
staircase (742), very quaint Magdalen in wood with the box of ointment;
German in style, 15th century; observe her long hair, here twisted and
plaited with German neatness. (1466 and 1468) Renaissance cabinets in
ebony.

ROOM I.—Gallery, looking down on the courtyard of Room VI, below. =Wall
D=, by which you enter; tiles, French Renaissance. =Wall C=: first case,
blue Flemish stoneware. Fine wrought-iron gates, gilt. In front of them,
female Satyr, French, 18th century, very characteristic of the national
taste; opposite it, male Satyr, the same. Second case: Palissy ware,
French 16th and 17th centuries. This fine ware is full of Renaissance
feeling. Notice particularly (3140), a Sacrifice of Abraham; (3145) the
Baptism in Jordan, conventional treatment; (3139) Judith and Holofernes,
with several other scriptural scenes in the older spirit; intermingled
with these are classical and mythological scenes, displaying the growing
love for the nude; observe particularly (3119), a Venus with Cupids; and
another dish below it, unnumbered, same subject; also, a Creation of
Eve; (3131) Susanna and the Elders, and other scenes of similar
character. Observe that while the early work is purely scriptural or
sacred, the Renaissance introduces classical subjects. Note too the
frequent scenes of the Baptism in the same connection. Centre (3102),
beautiful vase with lid, of the period of Henri II. Study all the
Palissy ware. =Wall B=, French pottery of the 18th century, exhibiting
the rapid decline in taste under Louis XIV and XV, especially as regards
colour. The most satisfactory pieces are the blue and white dishes with
royal monograms, arms, etc. Second case: Rouen ware of the 18th century,
far superior in style and tone to the preceding. Good nude figure of
Venus. =Wall A=, Nevers pottery, delicate blue and white; (3338) figure
of a page, to support a lamp. Last case: Dutch pottery, Delft, 18th
century, exhibiting the strong domestic Dutch tendency.

ROOM II.—Also galleries, surrounding a courtyard. Exquisite Italian
Renaissance pottery. =Wall B=, R of entrance, beautiful Italian
specimens of Faenza ware, 15th and 16th centuries (whence the word
_faïence_); these should be closely studied in detail. (2811) Quaint
dish with Diana as archer; beside it, portraits. (2824 and 2825)
Decorative plaques with heads of women. (3949) St. George and the Dragon
in green pottery. Behind it, plate with admirable portrait. In the same
case, Judith receiving the head of Holofernes; (3024) Hercules playing
the lyre to entice Auge. =Wall C=, first case, Deruta and Chaffagiolo
ware of the 16th century. Exquisite decorative dishes and plaques;
(2814) Actæon changed to a stag by Diana. (2849) Susanna and the Elders.
(2887) St. Jerome in the desert, with his lion. (2895) The doubting
Thomas. (2823) Another Actæon. Observe frequent repetition of certain
scenes. Fine plates with arms of Medici Popes, etc. Second case: Deruta
ware, still more splendid specimens, many of them with remarkable
lustre. (2894) Madonna and Child, with infant St. John of Florence.
Other plates with Mercury, a sphinx, a lion, the huntress Diana, a
Moor’s head, portraits and decorative designs. Examine in detail. =Wall
D=, first case, Casteldurante and Gubbio ware, 16th century (3007)
Manius Curtius leaping into the Forum. (3015) Crucifixion, with the sun
and the moon darkened. (3004) Dædalus and the Minotaur. (3008) Fine
conventional design. Other plates have heads of St. Paul and
mythological persons. (2802) a quaint Temptation of St. Antony. (2818)
Leda and the Swan, etc. Second case: Urbino ware, 17th century. Head of
Raphael, and delicate Raphaelesque scenes, instinct with the later
Renaissance feeling. (2961) Perseus and Andromeda. (3064) Expulsion from
Paradise; on either side, Temptation, and Adam eating the fruit. (2872)
a Baptism in Jordan. Notice again the mixture of religious and
mythological scenes, with a preference for those where the nude is
permissible—Judith and Holofernes, Orpheus, etc. =Wall A=, fine
Florentine terra-cotta bust of the young St. John, patron saint of the
city. More Urbino ware, to be carefully examined. The greater part of
this wall, however, is occupied by =**Della Robbia= ware, glazed
Florentine majolica of the 15th and 16th centuries. (2794) Fine figure
of St. Michael. (2799) Martyrdom of St. Catherine, the wheels of her
torture broken by angels. Above it, Madonna adoring the Child; observe
in this and many other cases the beautiful setting of fruit and flowers,
characteristic of the Delia Robbias. Beneath, no number, the Beheading
of St. Catherine; in the background, angels conveying her soul to
Heaven. (2795) The Infant St. John, patron Saint of Florence. (2793)
Temperance, with flagon and patera. Then, more Urbino ware, very fine
examples of the end of the 16th century; above them, touching Madonna
and Child, Della Robbia. =Wall B=, again, Castello ware, and Venetian
pottery, 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. Apothecary’s jars, plaques,
etc., extremely beautiful.

ROOM III.—A long corridor. =Wall A=, is entirely occupied by the
=**=magnificent suite of six early French tapestries, known as “The Lady
and the Unicorn” (symbol of chastity), the finest work of its sort ever
executed. They come from the Château de Boussac, and belong to the
second half of the 15th century. The Lady is represented engaged in
various domestic pursuits of a woman of rank of her time, always
accompanied by the beast of chastity. The colour is inexpressibly
lovely. Above it, similar tapestry representing the History of St.
Stephen, and the Discovery of his Relics. Along =Wall A=, R of entrance
door (774), crowned wooden figure of St. Catherine, holding the sword of
her martyrdom, her broken wheel at her feet, and trampling upon the
tyrant, Maximian. L of door, good early Madonna and Child; another St.
Catherine; and (760) Magdalen, described (erroneously, I think) as
Pandora. =Wall B= is mostly occupied by a handsome French Renaissance
chimney-piece (16th century), brought here from a house at Rouen, and
representing the history of the Casa Santa at Loreto,—its transport
over the sea by angels, its reception by the Faithful, and worship in
front of it. The ceiling above also comes from the same room. =Wall C=,
small stained-glass windows of various ages. Examine them separately.
=Wall D=, large enamelled plaques brought from François Premier’s
Château of Madrid, in the Bois de Boulogne, stated to be the largest
enamels in existence. Beneath them, fine wooden statue of the Virgin and
infant Christ, German 15th century, very characteristic in its flat
features, as well as in the dress, and treatment of the hair, of the
German style of the period. Compare it with French Madonnas below. The
=screens= towards =Wall A= contain specimens of fine Renaissance
wood-carving. Contrast the finish and style of these with their Gothic
predecessors. Notice, near the chimney-piece (828), an Annunciation,
with God the Father, wearing a triple crown (like the Pope), and the
Holy Spirit descending upon the Madonna. Next screen, various classical
scenes in the taste of the Renaissance—Judgment of Paris, Venuses and
Cupids, etc. Much fine nude Renaissance detail. =Centre case=, old
glass; notice, in particular (4763), fine 13th century Arab mosque-lamp.
Further on, more Renaissance wood-carving—Leda and the Swan in very
high relief: low reliefs of classical subjects and decorative panels.
All these works should be closely studied as typically illustrative of
Renaissance feeling. =Cases by the window (wall C)=, Limoges and other
enamels, too numerous to treat in full detail, but many of them, at
least, should be closely inspected and comprehended by the visitor. Case
=next= the chimney-piece, old raised enamels (12th and 13th centuries),
enamelled gold reliquaries for containing bones of Saints; fine
crucifix, etc. Notice on 4497, the Flight into Egypt, Peter walking on
the Sea, the Adoration of the Magi, and the Presentation in the Temple;
on 4498, the Crucifixion, and the Twelve Apostles; beneath, 4514,
enamelled book-cover; near it, Crucifixion, Adoration of the Magi, and
other figures. Identify as many of these as possible, and observe their
archaic striving after effects too high for the artist. Second case:
Limoges enamels, more modern in type (15th century): Madonna holding the
dead Christ, Crucifixion, Bearing of the Cross, and other scenes. Notice
particularly (4575), little triptych with a Nativity, Adoration of the
Magi, and Circumcision, in all of which observe the conventional
treatment. Third case: Limoges enamels of the High Renaissance (16th and
17th centuries), Raphaelesque in spirit, better in execution, but far
less interesting; good portraits in frames; a fine Flagellation, and
other scenes from the Passion; above, delicate Tazzas. Observe in
particular (4628), the Descent into Hell, Christ rescuing Adam and Eve
and the other dead from Hades, typically Renaissance. On the far side of
the case, remote from window, a good series of the Gospel
history,—Marriage of the Virgin, Annunciation, Birth of the Virgin
(incorrectly labelled Nativity), etc. Last cases: more recent enamels.
Among the best are, in the last case of all, the Expulsion from
Paradise, and a series of the Gospel History; observe particularly
(4650), Christ and the Magdalen, with the usual curious disguise as a
gardener. I recommend to those who can spare the time, most attentive
detailed study of the subjects and treatment in all these enamels, many
of which throw much light on similar themes treated by other arts in the
same collection. Several hours should, if possible, be devoted to them.

ROOM IV contains various =**Mohammedan potteries=, exquisitely
decorative, but (owing to the general absence of figure subjects,
prohibited by Islam) requiring comparatively little explanation.
Occasional animal forms, however, occur in the midst of the usually
decorative arabesque patterns. =Wall C=, L of entrance, charming Rhodian
pottery (made by Persian workmen), in prevailing tones of blue and
green, with the wonderful Persian feeling for colour. =Wall B=,
Hispano-Moorish lustre ware, the most exquisitely beautiful ever
manufactured. The second case contains several lovely specimens. =Wall
A=, Rhodian ware again. =Wall D=, Persian. The reader must examine these
minutely for himself. It is impossible to do more than point out their
beauty.

ROOM V.—=Jewish= works of art of the Middle Ages, interesting as
showing the wealth and artistic taste of the mediæeval
Hebrews—phylacteries, seven-branched candlesticks, goldsmiths’ work,
etc. (188) Chimney-piece (Christian) from an old house at Le Mans. The
groups represent the three ages of life: right and left, the two
sexes—man, armed; woman, with a ball of wool.

ROOM VI.—=Wall C=, opposite windows, carved chest (1360), French, 17th
century, with figures in high relief of the Twelve Apostles. The
paintings above it (1704, 1707, 1714), etc., are the fronts of similar
chests, Florentine, 15th century. Such boxes were commonly given to a
bride to contain her trousseau and household linen. For instance, one
(1710) contains the mythical history of a betrothal and wedding (Æneas
and Lavinia). The others have in many cases similar appropriate subjects
from classical story. (1455) Florentine mosaic cabinet, in the worst
taste. Beyond it, other cabinets and fronts of wedding chests. This room
also contains musical instruments, interesting as illustrating the
evolution of modern forms. Also, florid Italian inlaid tables, in the
bad expensive taste of the 17th century. In the windows, stained glass.

ROOM VII.—Carved oak cabinets. (1435) Good Flemish work of the 17th
century.

ROOM VIII.—(189) Carved chimney-piece, similar to that in the Jewish
room, and from the same house; marriage scene, allegorical. Carved
wooden cabinets and portals, all interesting, but requiring little
description. (1431) Again the favourite Renaissance device of Actæon and
Diana. Carved oak bed, of age of François I^{er}, with hangings of the
same period. (1509) Good panel of a chair, with the Presentation of the
Virgin in the Temple by Saints Joachim and Anna; above, Nativity; then
Adoration of the Magi, and Flight into Egypt; on the front, patron
saints of the owners.

=Room IX.=—=**=Magnificent collection of ivories and ebonies, all of
which the spectator should examine in detail. Nothing in this museum is
more interesting. Notice, for example, the beautiful triptych=**=(1081)
in the centre of the =first case= by the window of =Wall D=; lower tier,
Annunciation; Shepherds; Joseph and the Madonna, with the babe in the
manger; and Adoration of the Magi; upper tier, Kiss of Judas,
Crucifixion, and Christ and the Magdalen in the Garden; beautiful
Italian work of the 14th century. L of it =**=(1088), exquisite 
triptych with Madonna and Child; L, St. Paul (with his sword) and St.
Catherine; R, St. Peter and the Magdalen; notice their symbols. Several
small ivories in the same case should be observed carefully. Below the
large triptych, for example, are scenes from the Passion (_not_
chronologically arranged in their existing order), namely, from L to R,
Crown of Thorns, Scourging, Resurrection, Ascension, Disciples at
Emmaus, Apparition to the three Marys, Peter on the Sea, and Christ with
the Magdalen; very naïve French work of the 15th century. (718)
Exquisite little wood-carving of the Crucifixion, with scenes from the
Passion; Spanish, 16th century. Above it (7227), comb, with Adoration of
the Magi; 14th century, very curious. The =next case= contains still
earlier and more interesting work. In the centre, a triptych; lower
tier, Adoration of the Magi, Madonna with angels, Presentation in the
Temple; upper tier, Bearing the Cross, Crucifixion, and Descent from the
Cross; exquisite French work, in high relief, of the 14th century. L of
it (1082), Scenes from the Passion, Last Supper, Agony in the Garden,
Kiss of Judas (with Peter cutting off Malchus’s ear), Flagellation, etc.
Each compartment here consists of two subjects, which identify; charming
French work of the 14th century. Above it (1085 and 1086), secular
scenes, life in a garden—14th century. R of the triptych (1065, 1063,
1066, 1064), legends of saints; St. Denis beheaded and bearing his head;
Flagellation of an unknown Martyr, who takes it most comfortably; St.
Peter, crucified, head downward; and other episodes—charming French
14th century work. Examine all the pieces in this case carefully. In the
first case, towards the =centre of the room=, early ivory-carvings, a
=*=consular diptych of the 5th or 6th century, very interesting; and
other works still displaying classical influence. (1035) Byzantine,
Christ and Saints. (1049) Death of the Virgin; fine work showing
Byzantine influence; 12th century. (1054) Extremely rude Northern 11th
century ivory, representing scriptural scenes, mingled with decorative
animals treated in withy-band fashion. (1038) Fine Italo-Byzantine
plaque with Crucifixion and Saints, the name of each inscribed beside
him. =Central case:= Ivory statuettes, all deserving close attention.
(1032) Antique Roman goddess. (1037) Fine early French Madonna; 10th
century. Behind her (1052), beautiful ivory reliquary, French, 12th
century, with figures of Saints; L, the personages of the Adoration
(_i.e._, the Three Kings) bearing their gifts, and with their names
inscribed above them; R, the personages of the Presentation—Madonna,
Joseph, Simeon. Further side (1060), beautiful  ivory coffer,
14th century, with numerous scriptural scenes, easily recognisable;
identify them. Inspect also the =ebony cabinets=, of which 1458, time of
Henri IV. with classical scenes, is a magnificent Renaissance example.
By =Wall A=, more =ebony cabinets= and carvings, and exquisite ivory
statuettes, of later date, among which notice particularly (1141) a
Portuguese Madonna; (1163) a Spanish St. Peter; (1164) Spanish St.
Antony of Padua; and (1167) a very curious Peruvian Good Shepherd,
showing distinct traces of native art, influenced by introduced Spanish
feeling. Further to the R, good classical figures of the later
Renaissance. I have only indicated a few of the most interesting among
these exquisite carvings; but many hours may be devoted to this room, by
those who can afford the time, with great advantage.

ROOM X.—Bronzes and Renaissance metal work, mostly self-explanatory.
(193) Chimney-piece from a house in Troyes—French, 16th century;
Plenty, surrounded by Fauns and trophies. Good collection of keys,
knives, etc.

ROOM XI.—=Goldsmith’s work= and objects in the precious metals. =Wall
A= (4988), gold altar-piece of the Emperor Henry II, of Germany, with
Christ, and figures of Saints, bearing their names above them, given by
the Emperor to Bâle Cathedral in the beginning of the 11th century.
Central case, =the Guerrazar find=: votive offerings of crowns of the
early Gothic kings of Spain, the largest one being that of Reccesvinthus
(died 672), discovered near Toledo. The crowns are rude Byzantine work
of the 7th century, inlaid with precious stones. The names inscribed
below them were probably added when they were made into votive
offerings. Uninteresting as works of art, these curious relics possess
great value as specimens of the decadent workmanship of their period.
Most of the other objects in this room derive their importance more from
the material of which they are composed than from artistic beauty, or
even relative antiquarian importance. Of these (4994), in the case near
=Wall D=, represents the Last Supper, with the fish which in very early
Christian work is a symbol of Christ. Near it, quaint figures of the
four Evangelists, writing, with their symbols. Other symbols of the
Evangelists in the same case. Quaint Nuremberg figure of St. Anne,
holding on her knee the crowned Madonna, and a little box to contain a
relic. (5008) Reliquary foot of a Saint, to enclose his bones; it bears
his name—Alard. (4995) Curious figure of the Madonna, Limoges work,
very Byzantine in aspect. Other cases contain crucifixes, monstrances,
and similar articles of church furniture in the precious metals, mostly
of early date. The case by =Wall B= has Gallic torques and Merovingian
jewellery.

Return to Room VIII, and enter ROOM XII to the R. It contains bed
furniture and book-bindings. (782) Fine Renaissance Flagellation, after
Sebastiano del Piombo.

From this room we enter

                              The Chapel,

a small apartment, with roof sustained by a single pillar. Good niches,
now destitute of their saints; church furniture of the Middle Ages, much
of which deserves close attention. (708) Fine wooden altar-piece,
Flemish, 15th century: centre, the Mass of St. Gregory, with Christ
appearing bodily in the Holy Sacrament; beneath it, adoring angels; L
wing, Abraham and Melchisedek, frankly mediæval; R wing, the Last
Supper; an excellent specimen. Other objects are: (726) Stiff early
wooden Madonna. (723) Crucifix, Auvergne, 12th century. (727) St. John.
End wall, Annunciation, with the Madonna separated, as often, from the
Angel Gabriel by a vase of lilies.

The staircase in the corner leads out to the =Garden=, where are several
fragments of stone decoration. Pass through the door, and traverse Room
VI; the opposite door leads to

                              Les Thermes,

the remains of the old Roman palace. The scanty remnant, as its name
indicates, consists entirely of the baths attached to the building. The
masonry is massive. Fragments of Roman altars and other remains found in
Paris are arranged round the room. The descriptive labels are sufficient
for purposes of identification.

If this brief survey of Cluny has succeeded in interesting you in
mediæval art, buy the official catalogue, come here often, and study it
in detail.


                     B. THE HILL OF STE. GENEVIÈVE
                    (PANTHÉON, ST. ÉTIENNE-DU-MONT.)

    [“High places” are always the first cemeteries and holy
    sites—as at Montmartre and elsewhere. But the nearest rising
    ground to Old Paris is the slight elevation just S. of Cluny,
    now crowned by the colossal dome of the Panthéon. In Frankish
    times, this hill lay quite outside the city; but on its summit
    (just behind his Palace of Les Thermes), Clovis, after his
    conversion by Ste. Geneviève, is said to have erected a church
    to St. Peter and St. Paul. Here =Ste. Geneviève= herself was
    buried in 512; and the chapel raised over her tomb grew into a
    church—the favourite place of pilgrimage for the inhabitants of
    Paris. The actual body of the patron saint was enclosed, in 550,
    in a magnificent shrine, executed by St. Éloy, the holy
    blacksmith. Throughout the Middle Ages this church and tomb of
    Ste. Geneviève, which occupied the site of the existing
    Panthéon, nearby, were the objects of the greatest devotion. St.
    Denis was the saint of the kings and nobles; but Ste. Geneviève
    was, and still remains, the saint of the people, and especially
    of the women. Miracles were constantly performed at her shrine,
    and her aid was implored at all moments of national danger or
    misfortune. A great (Augustin) abbey grew up in time behind the
    church, and was dedicated in honour of the holy shepherdess. The
    wall of Philippe Auguste bent abruptly southward in order to
    include her shrine and this powerful abbey.

    In the twelfth century, when the old church of St. Stephen (in
    French, St. Étienne), on the site of Notre-Dame, was pulled down
    in order to make room for the existing cathedral, the relics of
    St. Stephen contained in it were transferred to a new
    edifice—=St. Étienne-du-Mont=—which was erected by the monks,
    close to the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève, as a parish church for
    their servants and dependents. In the sixteenth century this
    second church of St. Stephen was pulled down, with the exception
    of its tower, which is still standing. The existing church of
    St. Étienne was then begun on the same site in the Gothic style,
    and slowly completed with extensive Rennaissance alterations.

    Later still, the mediæval church of Ste. Geneviève, hard by,
    having fallen into decay in the middle of the eighteenth
    century, Louis XV determined to replace it by a sumptuous domed
    edifice in the style of the period. This building, designed by
    Soufflot, was not completed till the Revolution, when it was
    immediately secularised as the =Panthéon=, under circumstances
    to be mentioned later. The remains of Ste. Geneviève, which had
    lain temporarily meanwhile in a sumptuous chapel at St.
    Étienne-du-Mont (the subsidiary church of the monastery) were
    then taken out by the Revolutionists; the mediæval shrine, or
    reliquary (which replaced St. Éloy’s), was ruthlessly broken up;
    and the body of the patroness and preserver of Paris was
    publicly burned in the Place de Grève. This, however, strange to
    say, was not quite the end of Ste. Geneviève. A few of her
    relics were said to have been preserved: some bones, together
    with a lock of the holy shepherdess’s hair, were afterwards
    recovered, and replaced in the sarcophagus they had once
    occupied. Such at least is the official story; and these relics,
    now once more enclosed in a costly shrine, still attract
    thousands of votaries to the chapel of the saint in St.
    Étienne-du-Mont.

    The Panthéon, standing in front of the original church, is now a
    secular burial-place for the great men of France. The remains of
    Ste. Geneviève still repose at St. Étienne. Thus it is
    impossible to dissociate the two buildings, which should be
    visited together; and thus too it happens that the patroness of
    Paris has now no church in her own city. Local saints are always
    the most important; this hill and Montmartre are still the
    holiest places in Paris.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Proceed, as far as the garden of the Thermes, as on the excursion to
Cluny. Then continue straight up the Boulevard St. Michel. The large
edifice visible on the R of the Rue des Écoles to your L, is the new
building of the Sorbonne, or University. Further up, at the Place du
Sorbonne, the domed church of the same name stands before you. It is the
University church, and is noticeable as the earliest true dome erected
in Paris. The next corner shows one, R, the Luxembourg garden, and L,
the Rue Soufflot, leading up to the =Panthéon=.

The colossal domed temple which replaces the ancient church of Ste.
Geneviève was begun by Soufflot, under Louis XV, in imitation of St.
Peter’s, at Rome. Like all architects of his time, Soufflot sought
merely to produce an effect of pagan or “classical” grandeur, peculiarly
out of place in the shrine of the shepherdess of Nanterre. Secularised
almost immediately on its completion, during the Revolution, the
building was destined as the national monument to the great men of
France, and the inscription, “Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie
Reconnaissante,” which it still bears, was then first placed under the
sculptures of the pediment. Restored to worship by the Restoration, it
was again secularised under the Third Republic in order to admit of the
burial of Victor Hugo. The building itself, a vast bare barn of the
pseudo-classical type, very cold and formal, is worthy of notice merely
on account of its immense size and its historic position; but it may be
visited to this day with pleasure, not only for some noble modern
paintings, but also for the sake of the reminiscences of Ste. Geneviève
which it still contains. Open daily, free, from 10 to 4, Mondays
excepted.

The =tympanum= has a group by David d’Angers, representing France
distributing wreaths to soldiers, politicians, men of letters, men of
science, and artists.

The =interior= is in the shape of a Greek cross (with equal arms).
Follow round the walls, beginning from the R. In the R Aisle are
paintings (modern) looking like frescoes, and representing the preaching
of St. Denis, by Galand; and =*=the history of Ste. Geneviève—her
childhood, recognition by St. Germain l’Auxerrois, miracles, etc.,
delicate and elusive works, by Puvis de Chavannes. The paintings of the
South Transept represent episodes in the early history of France.
Chronologically speaking, they begin from the E. central corner. Choir,
Death of Ste. Geneviève, by Laurens, and Miracles before her Shrine.
Apse of the tribune, fine modern (archaic) mosaic, by Hébert,
representing Christ with the Guardian Angel of France, the Madonna,
Jeanne d’Arc, and Ste. Geneviève. Stand under the dome to observe the
proportions of the huge, bare, unimpressive building. L, or Northern
Transept, E side, the history of Jeanne d’Arc; she hears the voices;
leads the assault at Orleans; assists at the coronation of Charles VII
at Rheims; and is burnt at Rouen. W. side, St. Louis as a child
instructed by Blanche of Castille; administering justice in the Palace;
and a captive among the Saracens. N. aisle, history of Ste. Geneviève
and St. Denis (suite). The building is thus at once the apotheosis of
patriotism, and the lasting memorial of the part borne by Christianity
in French, and especially Parisian, history.

As you descend the steps of the Panthéon, the building that faces you to
the L is the Mairie of the 5th Arrondissement; that to the R, the École
de Droit. Turn to the R, along the N side of the Panthéon. The long, low
building which faces you is the Bibliothèque Ste. Geneviève. Nothing now
remains of the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève except the tall early Gothic
tower seen to the R, near the end of the Panthéon, and rising above the
modern buildings of the Lycée Henri IV. The singularly picturesque and
strangely-mingled church across the little square is =St.
Étienne-du-Mont=, which we now proceed to visit.

Stand in the left-hand corner of the Place to examine the _façade_. The
church was begun (1517) as late Gothic; but before it was finished, the
Renaissance style had come into fashion, and the architects accordingly
jumbled the two in the most charming manner. The incongruity here only
adds to the beauty. The quaintly original Renaissance portal bears a
dedication to St. Stephen the Protomartyr, beneath which is a relief of
his martyrdom, with a Latin inscription, “Stone destroyed the temple of
the Lord,” _i.e._, Stephen, “Stone rebuilds it.” R and L of the portal
are statues of Sts. Stephen and Geneviève, whose monograms also appear
on the doors. In the pediment is the usual representation of the
Resurrection and Last Judgment. Above it, the rose window, on either
side of which, in accordance with Italian rather than with French custom
(showing Italian Renaissance influence) are the Angel of the
Annunciation and the Madonna receiving his message. In the third story,
a gable-end. Singular tower to the L, with an additional round turret, a
relic of the earlier Gothic building. The whole _façade_ (17th century),
represents rather late Renaissance than transitional architecture.

The =interior= is the most singular, and in some ways the most
picturesque, in Paris—a Gothic church, tricked out in Renaissance
finery. The nave is flanked by aisles, which are divided from it by
round pillars, capped by a singular balustrade or gallery with low, flat
arches, simulating a triforium. The upper arches are round, and the
decorations Renaissance; but the vaulting, both of nave and aisles, with
its pendant keystones, recalls the Gothic style, as do also most of the
windows. Stand near the entrance, in the centre of the nave, and look up
the church. The most striking feature is the beautiful Renaissance
_jubé_ or =**rood-loft= (the only one now left in Paris) which divides
the Choir from the body of the building. This rood-loft still bears a
crucifix, for the reception of which it was originally intended. On the
arch below are two charmingly sculptured Renaissance angels. The
rood-loft is flanked by two spiral staircases, which are wholly unique
architectural features. Notice also the exquisite pendentive of the roof
at the point of intersection of the nave and short false transepts.

Now walk up the Right Aisle. The first chapel is the Baptistery,
containing the font and a modern statue of the boy Baptist. Third
chapel, St. Antony of Padua. The fourth chapel contains a curious Holy
Sepulchre, with quaint life-size terra-cotta figures of the 16th
century. Fifth chapel, a gilt _châsse_. Notice the transepts, reduced to
short arms, scarcely, if at all, projecting beyond the chapels. From
this point examine the exquisite Renaissance tracery of the rood-screen
and staircases. Then pass under the fine Renaissance door, with lovely
decorative work, into the =ambulatory=. The Choir is in large part
Gothic, with late flamboyant tracery. The apparent triforium is
continued round the ambulatory. The splendid gilded shrine in the second
choir-chapel contains the =remains of Ste. Geneviève=, or what is left
of them. Candles burn perpetually around it. Hundreds of votaries here
pay their devotions daily to the Patroness of Paris. The shrine,
containing what is alleged to be the original sarcophagus of the Saint
(more probably of the 13th century) stands under a richly-gilt Gothic
tabernacle, adorned with figures legibly named on their pedestals. The
stained-glass window behind it has a representation of a processional
function with the body of the Saint, showing this church, together with
a view of the original church of Ste. Geneviève, the remaining tower,
and adjacent houses, historically most interesting. The window beyond
the shrine also contains the history of Ste. Geneviève—her childhood,
first communion, miracles, distribution of bread during the siege of
Paris, conversion of Clovis, death, etc. Indeed the long sojourn of the
body of Ste. Geneviève in this church has almost overshadowed its
dedication to St. Stephen, several memorials of whom may, however, be
recognised by the attentive visitor—amongst them, a picture of his
martyrdom (by Abel de Pujol) near the entrance to the choir. The
Protomartyr also stands, with his deacon’s robe and palm, in a niche
near the door of the sacristy, where L and R are frescoes of his
Disputation with the Doctors, and his Martyrdom. The chapel immediately
behind the high altar is, as usual, the Lady Chapel. The next contains a
good modern window of the Marriage of the Virgin. Examine in detail all
the windows; one of the mystic wine-press is very interesting. Votive
offerings of the city of Paris to Ste. Geneviève also exist in the
ambulatory. Curious frescoes of the martyrdom of the 10,000 Christians
on Mount Ararat on the N side. The best view of the choir is obtained
from the N side of the ambulatory, opposite the shrine of Ste.
Geneviève. In the north aisle notice St. Louis with the Crown of Thorns.
Stand again in the centre of the nave, near the entrance, and observe
the curious inclination of the choir and high altar to one side—here
particularly noticeable, and said in every case to represent the droop
of the Redeemer’s head on the cross.

Go out again. As you emerge from the door, observe the cold and bare
side of the Panthéon, contrasted with the internal richness of St.
Étienne. Curious view of the late Gothic portion of the church from the
little Place on the N side. Return by the Rue Cujas and Rue St. Jacques,
passing the Lycée Ste. Barbe, Lycée Louis-le-Grand, University, and
other scholastic buildings, which give a good idea of the character of
the quarter.




                                  III
                     RENAISSANCE PARIS (THE LOUVRE)


    [PARIS, which spread rapidly Southward at first, was somewhat
    slower in its =Northward= development. Nevertheless, by the time
    of Philippe Auguste, the Town =La Ville=—the commercial portion
    N of the river—more than equalled the learned district on the S
    side. This central northern region, however, containing the
    Hôtel de Ville, St. Eustache, and some other important
    buildings, I purposely postpone to the consideration of =the
    Louvre= and its neighbourhood, which, though later in date, form
    the heart and core of Renaissance Paris—the Paris of François
    I^{er} and his splendour-loving successors.

    Most of the buildings we have hitherto considered are mediæval
    and Gothic. The Louvre introduces us at once to a new world—the
    world of the =Renaissance=. The transition is abrupt. In Italy,
    and especially in Florence, the Renaissance was _a natural
    growth_; in France it was A FASHION. It came in, full-fledged,
    without history or antecedents. To trace its evolution, one must
    follow it out in detail in Florence and Venice. There, it grows
    of itself, organically, by gradual stages. But in France, Gothic
    churches and mediæval _châteaux_ give place at once, with a
    bound, to developed Renaissance temples and palaces. The reason
    for this fact is, that the French kings, from Charles VIII
    onward to Henri IV, were thoroughly Italianate. They fought,
    travelled, and married in Italy, to parts of which they laid
    claim; and being closely allied with the Medici and other
    Italian families,—husbands of Medici wives, sons of Medici
    mothers,—they introduced at once into France the developed
    products of the Italian Renaissance. At the same time the
    increased and centralized power of the Crown enabled them to
    build magnificent palaces, like the Louvre and Fontainebleau;
    and to this artificial impulse is mainly due the sudden outburst
    of art in France under François I^{er} and his immediate
    successors.

    It is impossible to characterize the =Renaissance= in a few
    short sentences. In one aspect, it was a return from =Gothicism=
    to =Classical usage=, somewhat altered by the new conditions of
    life. At first you will probably only notice that in
    architecture it substituted round arches for pointed, and
    introduced square doors and windows; while in other arts it
    replaced sacred and Christian subjects and treatment by
    mythological and secular. But, in contrast with mediævalism, it
    will reveal itself to you by degrees as essentially =the dawn of
    the modern spirit=.

    The =Louvre= is the noblest monument of the =French
    Renaissance=. From the time of St. Louis onward, the French
    kings began to live more and more in the northern suburb, the
    town of the merchants, which now assumed the name of La Ville,
    in contradistinction to the Cité and the Université. Two of
    their chief residences here were the Bastille and the Hôtel St.
    Paul, both now demolished—one, on the Place so called, the
    other, between the Rue St. Antoine and the Quai des Célestins.
    But from a very early period they also possessed a _château_ on
    the site of the Louvre, and known by the same name, which
    guarded the point where the wall of Philippe Auguste abutted on
    the river. François I^{er} decided to pull down this picturesque
    turreted mediæval castle, erected by Philippe Auguste and
    altered by Charles V. He began the construction in its place of
    a magnificent Renaissance palace, which has ever since been in
    course of erection. Its subsequent growth, however, is best
    explained opposite the building itself, where attention can be
    duly called to the succession of its salient features. But a
    visit to the exterior fabric of the Louvre should be preceded by
    one to =St. Germain l’Auxerrois=, the parish church, and
    practically the chapel, of the old Louvre, to which it stood in
    somewhat the same relation as the Ste. Chapelle to the home of
    St. Louis. Note, however, that the church was situated just
    within the ancient wall, while the _château_ lay outside it. The
    visitor will doubtless be tolerably familiar by this time with
    some parts at least of the exterior of the Louvre; but he will
    do well to visit it now =systematically=, in the order here
    suggested, so as to gain a clear general idea of its history and
    meaning.]


                             A. THE FABRIC

Go along the Rue de Rivoli, past the Palais Royal, till you reach the
Rue du Louvre. Turn down it, with the Louvre on your right. To your left
stands a curious composite building, with a detached belfry in the
centre, and two wings, as it seems, one on either side. The southernmost
wing is the old =church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois=, the sole remnant of
the earliest Louvre; the northernmost wing is the modern Mairie of the
1st Arrondissement, unhappily intended to “harmonize” with it. The real
result is, that the modern building kills the old one. The belfry was
designed to fill up the gap between the two. Its effect is disastrous.

The church is older than the oldest Louvre. St. Germanus, Bishop of
Auxerre (A.D. 430), was almost one of the first generation of Gallic
saints, celebrated for his visit to Britain, where he assisted in
gaining the Hallelujah victory over the heathen invaders. A church on
this site is said to have been erected in his honour as early as the
days of Chilperic. Sacked by the Normans, it was re-erected in something
like its present form in the 12th century, but received many subsequent
additions.

The beautiful =porch=, which we first examine, is of much later date,
having been added in 1431 by Jean Gaussel, at a time when the old
_château_ of the Louvre had become one of the principal residences of
the French kings, in order to give greater dignity, and to afford a
covered approach for the royal worshippers to what was practically their
own chapel. It therefore contains (restored) statues, in niches,
relating especially to the =royal and local Saints of Paris=, whose
names are beneath them:—St. Cloud, the Princess Ste. Clotilde, Ste.
Radégonde of France, St. Denis, St. Marcel, St. Germain himself, St.
Landry, Ste. Isabelle, Ste. Bathilde, St. Jean de Valois, and others.
The saints of the royal house are distinguished by crowns or coronets.
Two of these statues are old: St. Francis, at the south end, and St.
Mary of Egypt, nude, with her long hair, and the three loaves which
sustained her in the desert, on the second north pillar. The modern
frescoes, destroyed, are by Mottez.

Observe the congruity of all these saints to the church and the
_château_. St. Landry or Landeric, an early Frankish bishop of Paris,
was buried within, and his shrine was a place of pilgrimage. St. Marcel
was also a bishop of Paris. St. Cloud was a holy anchorite whose cell
was in the wood which occupied the site of the palace (now destroyed)
that bears his name. All these saints are therefore closely bound up
with the town of Paris and the royal family. You must never forget this
near alliance in France between the church and the crown: it colours all
the architecture of the early period.

Within the porch, we come to the =main façade=, of the 13th century. R
and L, two sainted bishops of Auxerre, successors of St. Germain.
Central portal, a queen, a king (probably Childebert and Ultrogothe, the
original Frankish founders), St. Vincent; then St. Germain himself, and
Ste. Geneviève, with the usual devil and candle, and her attendant
angel, etc. On the pier, Madonna and Child, under a canopy. The tympanum
had formerly the usual relief of the Last Judgment, now destroyed, and
replaced by a fresco. Reminiscences of its subject still remain in the
quaint figures to R and L on the arch, at its base, representing
respectively, with childish realism, the Jaws of Hell and Abraham’s
Bosom, to which the wicked and the just were consigned in the centre.

In this church, and in that of St. Germain-des-Prés (see later), =St.
Vincent= ranks as a local Parisian saint, because his tunic was
preserved in the great abbey church of the other St. Germain beyond the
river. He bears a martyr’s palm and is habited as a deacon; whence he is
often hard to distinguish from his brother deacon, St. Stephen: both are
often put together in Parisian churches. It is probable that St. Germain
of Paris consecrated this church to his older namesake and =St.
Vincent=—for his connection with whom you had better wait till you
visit St. Germain-des-Prés.

The =interior= is low, but impressive. The R aisle is entirely railed
off as a separate church or Lady Chapel. It contains an interesting
14th-century Root of Jesse, seldom accessible. Pretty modern font, by
Jouffroy, after Mme. de Lamartine, in the South Transept. Walk round the
Ambulatory (behind the Choir), and observe the stained glass and other
details, which the reader may now be trusted to discover unaided. A mass
of the detail is well worthy of notice. The Gothic pillars of the Choir
were converted in the 18th century into fluted columns. Over the
Sacristy, in the South Ambulatory, is a modern fresco of St. Germain and
St. Vincent. Note many other memorials of the latter. When you leave,
walk to the south side of the church to inspect the exterior and the
=square tower=, from which, as parish church of the Louvre, the bell
rang for the massacre of St. Bartholomew, to be answered by that in the
Palace on the island.

On emerging from the church, contrast its Gothic quaintness and richness
of detail with the cold, classical _façade_ of that part of the =Louvre=
which fronts you. This _façade_, known as Perrault’s Colonnade, with its
classical pediment and Corinthian columns, was erected by Claude
Perrault for Louis XIV, whose LL and crown appear on every part of it.
Nothing could better illustrate the profound difference between Gothic
and Classical architecture than this abrupt contrast.

The portion of the palace that faces you is the real =front door= of the
Louvre. Notice the smaller barred windows on the ground floor, and the
upper story converted into a _loggia_. Now pass in through the
=gateway=, under the Chariot of the Sun—an Apotheosis of Louis—into
the First Court, known distinctively as the =Cour du Louvre=. For all
that follows, consult the excellent  map in Baedeker, page 86. I
advise you to cut it out, and carry it round in your hand during this
excursion.

Begin by understanding distinctly that this court (le vieux Louvre) is
the real and =original Louvre=: the rest is mere excrescence, intended
to unite the main building with the Tuileries, which lay some hundreds
of yards to the west of it. Notice, first, that the Palace as a whole,
seen from the point where you now stand, is constructed on the old
principle of relatively blank external walls, like a castle, with an
interior courtyard, on which all the apartments open, and almost all the
decoration is lavished. Reminiscences of defence lurk about the Louvre.
It can best be understood by comparison with such ornate, yet
fortress-like, Italian palaces as the Strozzi at Florence. Notice the
four opposite portals, facing the cardinal points, which can be readily
shut by means of great doors; while the actual doorways of the various
suites of apartments open only into the protected courtyard. This is the
origin of the familiar French _porte-cochère_.

Again, the portion of the building that =directly faces you= as you
enter the court from St. Germain is the =oldest part=, and represents
the early Renaissance spirit. It is the most primitive Louvre. Note in
particular the central elevated portion, known as a _Pavillon_, and
graced with elegant Caryatides. These _Pavillons_ are lingering
reminiscences of the mediæval towers. You will find them in the corners
and centres of other blocks in the Louvre. They form a peculiarly French
Renaissance characteristic. The Palace is here growing out of the
Castle. The other three sides of the square are, on the whole, more
classical and later.

Now cross the square directly to the =Pavillon de l’Horloge=, as it is
called, from the clock which adorns it. To your L, on the floor of the
court, are two circular =white lines=, enclosed in a square. These mark
the site of the original _Château_ of the Louvre, with its Keep, or
_donjon_. François I^{er}, who began the existing building, originally
intended that his palace should cover the same area. It was he who
erected the L wing, which now faces you, marked by the crowned H on its
central round gable, placed there by his successor, Henri II, under whom
it was completed. To the same king are also due the monograms of H and D
(for Diane de Poitiers, his mistress), between the columns of the ground
floor. The whole of the Pavillon de l’Horloge, and of this west wing,
should be =carefully examined in detail= as the finest remaining
specimen of highly decorated French Renaissance architecture. (But the
upper story of the Pavillon, with the Caryatides, is an age later.)
Observe even the decoration lavished on the beautiful chimneys. Pierre
Lescot was the architect of this earliest wing; the exquisite sculpture
is by Jean Goujon, a Frenchman, and the Italian, Paolo Ponzio. Examine
much of it. The crossed K’s of certain panels stand for Catherine de
Médicis.

The R wing, beyond the _Pavillon_, was added, in the same style, under
Louis XIII, who decided to double the plan of his predecessors, and form
the existing Cour du Louvre.

The other three sides, in a more classic style, with pediments replacing
the Pavillons, and square porticoes instead of rounded gables, are for
the most part later. The S side, however, as far as the central door, is
also by Pierre Lescot. It forms one of the two fronts of the original
square first contemplated. The attic story of these three sides was
added under Louis XIV, to whom in the main is due this Cour du Louvre. A
considerable part of Louis XIV’s decorations bear reference to his
representation as _le roi soleil_.

Now, pass through the Pavillon de l’Horloge (called on its W side
Pavillon Sully) into the =second= of the three courts of the Louvre. To
understand this portion of the building, again, you must remember that
shortly after the erection of the Old Louvre, Catherine de Médicis began
to build her palace of the =Tuileries=, now destroyed, to the W of it.
She (and subsequent rulers) designed to unite the Old Louvre with the
Tuileries by a =gallery= which should run along the bank of the river.
Of that gallery, Catherine de Médicis herself erected a considerable
portion, to be described later, and Henri IV almost completed it. Later
on, Napoleon I conceived the idea of extending a similar gallery along
his new Rue de Rivoli, on the N side, so as to enclose the whole space
between the Louvre and the Tuileries in one gigantic double courtyard.
Napoleon III carried out his idea. The =second court= in which you now
stand is entirely flanked by buildings of this epoch—the Second Empire.
Examine it cursorily as far as the modern statue of Gambetta.

Stand or take a seat by the railing of the garden opposite the Pavillon
Sully. The part that now faces you forms a portion of the building of
François I^{er} and Louis XIII, re-decorated in part by Napoleon I. The
portions to your R and L (consult Baedeker’s map) are entirely of the
age of Napoleon III, built so as to conceal the want of parallelism of
the outer portions. Observe their characteristic Pavillons, each bearing
its own name inscribed upon it. This recent square, though quite modern
in the character of its sculpture and decoration, is Renaissance in its
general architecture, and, when looked back upon from the gardens of the
Tuileries, affords a most excellent idea of that stately style, as
developed in France under François I^{er}. The whole of this splendid
plan, however, has been rendered futile by the destruction of the
Tuileries, without which the enclosure becomes wholly meaningless.

Now, continue =westward,= pass the Monument of Gambetta, and take a seat
on the steps at the base, near the fine nude figure of Truth. In front
of you opens the =third square= of the Louvre, known as the =Place du
Carrousel=, and formerly enclosed on its W side by the Palace of the
Tuileries, which was unfortunately burnt down in 1871, during the
conflict between the Municipal and National authorities. Its place is
now occupied by a garden terrace, the view from which in all directions
is magnificent. Fronting you, as you sit, is the =Arc de Triomphe du
Carrousel=, erected under Napoleon I, by Percier and Fontaine, in
imitation of the Arch of Septimius Severus at Rome, and once crowned by
the famous bronze Roman horses from St. Mark’s at Venice. The arch,
designed as an approach to the Tuileries during the period of the
classical mania, is too small for its present surroundings, since the
removal of the Palace. The =N. wing=, visible to your R, is purely
modern, of the age of the First and Second Empire and the Third
Republic. The meretricious character of the reliefs in its extreme W.
portion, erected under the Emperor Napoleon III, and restored after the
Commune, is redolent of the spirit of that gaudy period. The =S. wing=,
to your L, forms part of the =connecting gallery= erected by Henri IV,
but its architecture is largely obscured by considerable alterations
under Napoleon III. Its W pavillon—known as the Pavillon de Flore—is
well worth notice.

Having thus gained a first idea of the =courtyard fronts= of the
building, continue your walk, still westward, along the S wing as far as
the Pavillon de Flore, a remaining portion of the corner edifice which
ran into one line with the Palace of the Tuileries (again consult
Baedeker’s map). Turn round the corner of the Pavillon to examine the S,
or =River Front= of the connecting gallery—one of the finest parts of
the whole building, but far less known to ordinary visitors than the
cold and uninteresting Northern line along the Rue de Rivoli. The first
portion, as far as the gateways, belongs originally to the age of Henri
IV; but it was entirely reconstructed under Napoleon III, whose
obtrusive N appears in many places on the gateways and elsewhere.
Nevertheless, it still preserves, on the whole, some reminiscence of its
graceful Renaissance architecture. Beyond the main gateway (with modern
bronze Charioteer of the Sun), flanked by the Pavillons de la Trémoille
and de Lesdiguières, we come upon the long =Southern Gallery= erected by
Catherine de Médicis, which still preserves almost intact its splendid
early French Renaissance decoration. This is one of the noblest portions
of the entire building. The N here gives place to H’s, and the
Renaissance scroll-work and reliefs almost equal those in that portion
of the old Louvre which was erected under François I^{er}. Sit on a seat
on the Quay and examine the sculpture. Notice particularly the splendid
Porte Jean Goujon, conspicuous from afar by its gilded balcony. Its
crowned H’s and coats-of-arms are specially interesting examples of the
decorative work of the period. Note also the skill with which this
almost flat range is relieved by sculpture and decoration so as to make
us oblivious of the want of that variety usually given by jutting
portions. The end of this long gallery is formed by two handsome windows
with balconies. We there come to the connecting =Galerie d’Apollon=, of
which these windows are the termination, and finally reach once more a
portion of Perrault’s façade, with its double LL’s, erected under Louis
XIV, and closely resembling the interior _façade_ of the Cour du Louvre.

(The N side you can examine any day as you pass along the Rue de Rivoli.
You will now have no difficulty in distinguishing its various
factors—first, on the E, a part of Perrault’s _façade_ of the Old
Louvre; then, where it begins to bend outward, a portion of Napoleon the
Third’s connecting link; finally, beyond the main carriage way,
westward, a part reconstructed under the Third Republic.)

Sit awhile on the adjacent Pont des Arts to gain a general conception of
the relations of the Louvre, the Île de la Cité, the Hôtel de Ville and
other surrounding buildings.

This first rough idea of the Louvre should be filled in later by
detailed study. The Renaissance portions, in particular, you should look
at again and again, every time you enter piecing out your conceptions at
a later stage by visiting the Renaissance Sculpture Gallery in the Cour
du Louvre, and comparing the works inside it and outside it. Thus only
can you gain a connected idea of Renaissance Paris, to be further
supplemented by frequent visits to St. Étienne-du-Mont, St. Eustache,
and Fontainebleau.


                           B. THE COLLECTIONS

    [The Collections in the Louvre have no such necessary organic
    connection with Paris itself as Notre-Dame and the
    Sainte-Chapelle, or even those in the rooms at Cluny. They may,
    therefore, be examined by the visitor at _any_ period of his
    visit that he chooses. I would advise him, however, whenever he
    takes them up, to begin with the paintings, _in the order here
    enumerated_, and then to go on to the Classical and Renaissance
    Sculpture. The last-named, at least, he should only examine in
    connection with the rest of Renaissance Paris. Also, while it is
    unimportant whether he takes first Painting or Sculpture, it is
    very important that he should take each separately in the
    =chronological order= here enumerated. He should not skip from
    room to room, hap-hazard, but see what he sees systematically.

    At least =six days=—far more, if possible—should be devoted to
    the Louvre Collections—by far the most important objects to be
    seen in Paris. Of these, =four= should be assigned to the
    Paintings, and one each to the Classical and Renaissance
    Sculpture. If this is impossible, do not try to see all; see a
    =little thoroughly=. Confine yourself, for Painting, to the
    Salon Carré and the Salle des Primitifs, and for Sculpture, to a
    hasty walk through the Classical Gallery and to the three
    Western rooms of the Renaissance collection.

    The object of the hints which follow is _not to describe_ the
    Collections in the Louvre; it is to put the reader =on the right
    track= for understanding and enjoying them. It is impossible to
    make people admire beautiful things; but if you begin by trying
    to comprehend them, you will find admiration and sympathy grow
    with comprehension. =Religious symbolism is the native language
    of early art=, and you cannot expect to understand the art if
    you do not take the trouble to learn the language in which it is
    written. Therefore, do not walk listlessly through the
    galleries, with a glance, right or left, at what happens to
    catch your eye; begin at the beginning, work systematically
    through what parts you choose, and endeavour to grasp the
    sequence and evolution of each group separately. Stand or sit
    long before every work, till you feel you know it; and return
    frequently. Remember, too, that I do not point out always what
    is most worthy of notice, but rather suggest a mode of arriving
    at facts which might otherwise escape you. Many beautiful
    objects explain themselves, or fall so naturally into their
    proper place in a series that you will readily discover their
    meaning and importance without external aid. With others, you
    may need a little help, to suggest a point of view, and that is
    all that these brief notes aim at. Do not be surprised if I pass
    by many beautiful and interesting things; if you find them out
    for yourself, there is no need to enlarge upon them. Should
    these hints succeed in interesting you in the succession and
    development of art, get Mrs. Jameson and Kugler, and read up at
    leisure in your rooms all questions suggested to you by your
    visits to the galleries. My notes are intended to be looked at
    =before the objects themselves=, and merely to open a door to
    their right comprehension.

    The galleries are open, free, daily, except Mondays. Painting
    from 9, Sculpture from 11. For details, see Baedeker.]

                             I. PAINTINGS.

Take Baedeker’s Plan of the Galleries (1st Floor) with you. Enter by the
door in the Pavillon Denon. (Sticks and umbrellas left here; tip
optional.) Turn to L and traverse long hall with reproductions of famous
antiques in bronze (Laocoon, Medici Venus, Apollo Belvedere, etc.),
which those who do not intend to visit Rome and Florence will do well to
examine. Observe, in passing, in the centre of the hall, a fine antique
sarcophagus, with figures in high relief, representing the story of
Achilles. Begin on the furthest side of the sarcophagus: (1) Achilles,
disguised as a woman, among the daughters of Lycomedes, in order to
avoid the Trojan war; (2) is discovered by Ulysses as a pedlar, through
his choice of arms instead of trinkets; (3) arming himself for the
combat; and (4, modern) Priam redeeming the body of Hector. (The work
originally stood against a wall, and had therefore three decorative
sides only.) Further on, fine sarcophagus from Salonica, Roman period,
with Combat of Amazons, representing on the lid husband and wife,
couched, somewhat after the Etruscan fashion.

Mount the staircase (Escalier Daru). Near the top is the famous Nikè of
Samothrace, a much-mutilated winged figure of Victory, standing like a
figure-head on the prow of a trireme. It was erected by Demetrius
Poliorcetes, in commemoration of a naval engagement in B.C. 305.
Attitude and drapery stamp the work as one of the finest products of
Hellenic art. Victory alights on the vessel of the conqueror.

Turn to your L just before reaching the last flight, and pass several
Etruscan sarcophagi and sarcophagus-shaped funereal urns, many with the
deceased and his wife on the lid, accompanied in some cases by
protecting genii. The early Etruscans buried; the later often burned
their dead, but continued to enclose the ashes in miniature sarcophagi.
At the top, on the L, a fresco by _Fra Angelico_, the Dominican painter,
St. Dominic embracing the Cross, with the Madonna and St. John
Evangelist: not a first-rate example of the master. End wall, R of door,
a fresco by _Botticelli_, Giovanni Tornabuoni receiving the Muses.
Opposite it, L of door, another by the same, Giovanna his wife receiving
the Graces, and accompanied by Cupid. These two frescoes stood in the
hall of the owner’s villa, and gracefully typify the husband
entertaining Literature, Science, and Art, while the wife extends
hospitality to Love, Youth, and Beauty. Descend one flight of staircase
again, passing yet other Etruscan sarcophagi (which examine), and,
mounting opposite stairs, pass the Nikè and turn to your R. Traverse the
photograph-room and the Salle Duchâtel beyond it, as well as the Salon
Carré. Enter the Long Gallery, and, taking the first door to your R, you
arrive at once in Room I (Baedeker’s VII), the

                          Salle des Primitifs.

The pictures in this room consist for the most part of those by early
followers of Giotto, and by members of the schools which sprang from
him, till the moment of the Renaissance. As these earliest pictures
strike the key-note of types, continued and developed later, it is
absolutely necessary to examine them _all_ very closely. In most cases,
subject and treatment were rigorously prescribed by custom; scenes recur
again and again, almost identically. Where saints are grouped round the
Madonna, they were _ordered_ by the purchaser, and oftenest represent
his own patrons. In order to obtain a chronological view, begin at the
centre of the end wall. Most of these pictures are altar-pieces. I
follow the =small numbers below=, the only ones for which a detailed
catalogue is yet published.

=*=153. _Cimabue_ (the point of departure for Tuscan art); Madonna and
Child with six angels. Almost a replica of the great picture in Santa
Maria Novella at Florence; gold ground; the Madonna’s face still
strongly Byzantine in type, with almond-shaped eyes; the Child, draped,
after the earlier fashion. Later, he is represented nude. Observe,
however, the greater artistic freedom in the treatment of the attendant
angels, where Cimabue was slightly less hampered by conventional
precedents. Do not despise this picture because of its stiffness and its
archaic style. It is an immense advance upon the extremely wooden
Byzantine models which preceded it: and in the angels it really
approaches correctness of drawing.

225. (Skied) _Don Lorenzo Monaco._ A Tabernacle for an altar of St.
Lawrence; centre, St. Lawrence, enthroned on his gridiron; L, St. Agnes
with her lamb; R, St. Margaret with her dragon, all on gold grounds. A
poor example. This Saint is usually represented in deacon’s robes. The
other saints are probably those who shared the chapel with him. See the
much later St. Margaret by Raphael as an example of Renaissance
treatment of the same figure.

=*=192. _Giotto._ St. Francis receiving the Stigmata. A genuine picture,
painted for the saint’s own church of San Francesco at Pisa; one of the
earliest representations of this subject, often afterwards copied.
Christ, as a six-winged seraph, red-feathered, appears in heaven to the
Saint; rays proceed from his five wounds to the hands, feet, and side of
St. Francis, which they impress with similar marks. A mountain
represents La Vernia; two tiny buildings, the monastery. Compare with
this subject two smaller treatments in the same room, both on the lowest
tier: one, to the L as you go towards the door, 431, of the school of
Perugino, where an attendant Brother (Leo) is seen astonished at the
vision; the second on the R, 287, attributed to Pesello, and closely
similar in treatment. Careful comparison of these pictures will serve to
show the close way in which early painters imitated, or almost copied
one another. The base (or predella) of the Giotto also contains three
other subjects: Innocent III, asleep, is shown by St. Peter the falling
church sustained by St. Francis; he confirms the Franciscan order; St.
Francis preaches to the birds. All very spirited. Notice these little
pictures for comparison later with others painted in the Dominican
interest by Fra Angelico.

Continuing along L wall are some small pictures of the Sienese school,
which should be carefully examined. (Do not suppose that because I do
not call attention to a picture it is necessarily unworthy of notice.)
Most of these little works breathe the pure piety and ecstatic feeling
of the School of Siena.

=**=426. _Perugino._ Tondo, or round picture; the Madonna Enthroned; L,
St. Rose with her roses; R, St. Catherine with her palm of martyrdom;
behind, adoring angels. An exquisite example of the affected tenderness,
delicate grace, and brilliant colouring of the Umbrian master, from
whose school Raphael proceeded. An early specimen. Observe the dainty
painting of the feet and hands, which is highly characteristic.

Beneath it, 1701, _Gentile da Fabriano_. Presentation in the Temple.
Look closely into it. A delicate little example of the Umbrian rival of
Fra Angelico. The arrangement will explain many later ones. Every one of
the figures and their attitudes are conventional.

427. _Perugino._ Madonna and Child, with St. John Baptist and St.
Catherine. The introduction of St. John shows the picture to have been
probably painted for a Florentine patron. Not a pleasing example.

Beneath it, _Vittore Pisano_, characteristic portrait of an Este
princess, in the hard, dry, accurate manner of this Veronese medallist,
who borrowed from his earlier art the habit of painting profiles in
strong low relief, with a plastic effect.

_Perugino._ St. Sebastian. One of the loveliest examples of the Umbrian
master’s later manner. Contrasted with the Madonna and St. Rose it shows
the distance covered by art during the painter’s lifetime. Observe its
greater freedom and knowledge of anatomy. St. Sebastian, bound as usual
to a pillar in a ruined temple, is pierced through with arrows. Face,
figure, and expression are unusually fine for Perugino. Sebastian was
the great saint for protection against the plague, and pictures
containing him are almost always votive offerings under fear of that
pestilence. Many in this gallery. The face here is finer than in any
other presentation I know, except Sodoma’s in the Uffizi at Florence.

258. _Lombard or Piedmontese School._ Annunciation. An unusual
treatment; the Madonna, as always, kneels at a _prie-dieu_, and starts
away, alarmed and timid, at the apparition of the angel Gabriel. The
action, as usual, takes place in a _loggia_, but the angel is
represented as descending _in flight_ through the air, an extremely
uncommon mode of depicting him. He bears the white lily of the
Annunciation. The other details are conventional. Contrast with this
subsequent Annunciations in this Gallery. L, are St. Augustin and St.
Jerome; R, St. Stephen, bearing on his head, as often, the stones of his
martyrdom, accompanied by St. Peter Martyr the Dominican, with the knife
in his head. Both saints carry palms of martyrdom. A good picture in a
hard, dry, local manner.

Now cross over to the =opposite side= of the room, beginning at the
bottom, in order to preserve the chronological sequence.

196. _School of Giotto._ Madonna in Glory, with angels. Compare this
treatment carefully with Cimabue’s great picture close by, in order to
notice the advance in art made in the interval. The subject and general
arrangement are the same, but observe the irregularity in the placing of
the angels, and the increased knowledge of anatomy and expression.

Close by are several other =Giottesque pictures=, all of which should be
closely examined; especially 425, _Vanni_, the same subject, for
comparison. The little Giottesque Death of St. Bernard, in particular,
is a characteristic example or type of a group which deals in the same
manner with saintly obsequies. All of them will suggest explanations of
later pictures. In all these cases, the saint lies on a bier in the
foreground, surrounded by mourning monks and ecclesiastics. The key-note
was struck by Giotto’s fresco of the Death of St. Francis at Santa Croce
in Florence.

187. _Agnolo Gaddi._ Annunciation; a characteristic example. Note the
loggia, and the angel with the lily; the introduction of a second angel,
however, is a rare variation from the type. In the corner is the Father
despatching the Holy Spirit. Attitude of the Madonna characteristic;
study carefully. No subject sheds more light on the methods of early art
than the Annunciation. It always takes place in an arcade: the Madonna
is almost always to the right of the picture: and _prie-dieu_, book, and
bed are frequent accessories.

666. Quaint little Florentine picture of St. Nicolas, throwing three
purses of gold as a dowry inside the house of a poor and starving
nobleman.

Next to it, unnumbered, Gregory the Great sees the Angel of the Plague
sheathing his sword on the Castle of St. Angelo, so called from this
vision.

494. St. Jerome in the Desert; lion, skull, crucifix, rocks, cardinal’s
hat, all characteristic of the subject. In the foreground, a Florentine
lily; in the background, Christ and the infant Baptist, patron of
Florence; background L, St. Augustine and the angel who tries to empty
the sea into a hole made with a bucket—a well-known allegory of the
attempt of the finite to comprehend the Infinite. Look out elsewhere for
such minor episodes.

_Fra Angelico._ Martyrdom of Sts. Cosmo and Damian, the holy physicians
and (therefore) patron saints of the Medici family; a characteristic
example of the saintly friar’s colouring in small subjects. These two
Medici saints are naturally frequent in Florentine art.

662. _Fra Angelico._ Story of the death of St. John Baptist. Three
successive episodes represented in the same picture. The lithe figure of
the daughter of Herodias, dancing, is very characteristic.

166. Battle scene, by _Paolo Uccello_. Showing vigorous efforts at
mastery of perspective and foreshortening, as yet but partially
successful. The wooden character of the horses is conspicuous. Paolo
Uccello was one of the group of early scientific artists, who
endeavoured to improve their knowledge of optics and of the sciences
ancillary to painting.

199. _Benozzo Gozzoli._ Glory of St. Thomas Aquinas, the great
=Dominican= teacher. This is an apotheosis of scholasticism, in the
person of its chief representative. R and L stand Aristotle and Plato,
the heathen philosophers, in deferential attitudes, recognising their
master. Beneath his feet is Guillaume de St. Amour, a vanquished
heretic. Below, the entire Church—pope, cardinals, doctors—receiving
instruction from St. Thomas. Above, the Eternal Father signifying His
approval in a Latin inscription, surrounded by the Evangelists with
their symbols—angel, winged lion, bull, eagle. The inscription imports,
“Thomas has well spoken of Me.” The style is archaic: the council is
supposed to be that of Agnani, presided over by Pope Alexander IV. Among
the celestial personages, notice St. Paul, Moses, and others. Pictures
of this double sort, embracing scenes in heaven and on earth, are common
in Italy.

Beneath it (287), part 2. _Pesello._ St. Cosmo and St. Damian affixing
the leg of a dead Moor to a wounded Christian, on whom they have been
compelled to practise amputation. The costumes are the conventional ones
for these saints. Remember them. This astounding miracle is often
represented at Florence: the dead man’s leg grew on the living one.

=**=182. _Fra Angelico._ A Coronation of the Virgin, painted for a
=Dominican= church at Fiesole. In the foreground, St. Louis of France,
with a crown of fleur-de-lis; St. Zenobius, Bishop of Florence, with the
lamb of the Baptist on his crosier (indicating his see); St. Mary
Magdalen, in red, with long yellow hair (so almost always), and (her
symbol) the box of ointment; St. Catherine with her wheel; St. Agnes
with her lamb, and others. Above St. Louis stands St. Dominic, founder
of Fra Angelico’s order, recognisable by his robes, with his red star
and white lily (the usual attributes); beneath him, a little to the R,
St. Thomas Aquinas, with a book sending forth rays of light, to signify
his teaching function. Near him, St. Francis. Other Saints, such as St.
Lawrence with his gridiron, and St. Peter Martyr, the Dominican, with
his wounded head, must be left to the spectator. In the background,
choirs of angels. Beneath, in the =predella=, the history of =St.
Dominic= (marked by a red star); Pope Innocent in a dream sees him
sustaining the falling Church (a Dominican variant of the story of St.
Francis in the Giotto, at the end): he receives his commission from St.
Peter and St. Paul; he restores to life the young man Napoleon, killed
by a fall from a horse (seen to left); he converts heretics and burns
their books; he is fed with his brethren by angels in his convent at
Rome; and his death and apotheosis. This picture deserves most careful
study—say two hours. It is one of Fra Angelico’s finest easel paintings
(his best are frescoes), and it is full of interest for its
glorification of the Dominicans. Compare the St. Thomas Aquinas with
Benozzo Gozzoli’s: and remember in studying the predella that St.
Dominic founded the Inquisition. The tender painting of this lovely work
needs no commendation.

222. _School of Filippo Lippi._ Madonna and angels, characteristic of
the type of this painter and his followers.

Above it, _Neri di Bicci_. Madonna, very wooden. He was a belated
Giottesque, who turned out such antiquated types by hundreds in the 15th
century.

_School of Benozzo Gozzoli._ Madonna and Child. L, St. Cosmo and St.
Damian, with pens and surgeons’ boxes; St. Jerome, with stone, lion, and
cardinal’s hat; his pen and book denote him as translator of the
Vulgate. R, St. John Baptist (representing Florence); St. Francis with
the Stigmata; St. Lawrence. The combination of Saints shows the picture
to have been painted in compliment to Lorenzo de’ Medici. Minor subjects
around it are worthy of study.

Now =cross over the room= again. You come at once upon four pictures of
nearly the same size, painted for the Court of the Gonzaga family at
Mantua. Allegorical subjects, intended for the decoration of a hall or
boudoir. Most of those pictures we have hitherto examined have been
sacred: we now get an indication of the nascent Renaissance taste for
myth and allegory.

429. _Perugino._ Combat of Love and Chastity. A frequent subject for
such situations, showing Perugino at his worst. Compare it with the
other three of the series.

253. _Mantegna._ Wisdom conquering the Vices. A characteristic but
unpleasing example of this great Paduan painter. Admirable in anatomy,
drawing, and perspective: poor in effect. Observe the festoons in the
background, which are favourites with the artist and his school.

=*=252. _Mantegna._ The amours of Mars and Venus discovered by (her
husband) Vulcan. A beautiful composition. The guilty pair, with a couch,
stand on a mountain, representing Parnassus, accompanied by Cupid.
Below, exquisite group of the Nine Muses dancing (afterwards imitated by
Guido). To the L, Apollo with his lyre, as musician. R, Mercury and
Pegasus. In the background, the injured Vulcan discovering the lovers.
This splendid specimen of early Renaissance art is one of Mantegna’s
finest. Study it in detail, and compare with the other three which it
accompanies. Observe the life and movement in the dancing Muses: also,
the growing Renaissance love for the nude, exemplified in the Venus.

154. _Costa._ The Court of Isabella d’Este. The meaning of the figures
is now undecipherable, but the general character indicates peace, and
devotion to literature, science and art. A fine example of the Ferrarese
master.

Between these four, =**=_Mantegna_; (251), Madonna della Vittoria, a
most characteristic picture, painted for Giovanni Francesco Gonzaga,
Marquis of Mantua, to commemorate his victory over Charles VIII of
France. The Madonna is enthroned under a most characteristic canopy of
fruit and flowers, with pendents of coral and other decorative adjuncts.
L, Gonzaga himself, kneeling in gratitude—a ruffianly face,
well-painted. R, St. Elizabeth, mother of the Baptist, with St. John
Baptist himself, representing the Marquis’s wife. Behind, the patron
Saints of Mantua, who assisted in the victory: St. Michael the Archangel
(the warrior saint—a most noble figure), St. Andrew (Mantegna’s
name-Saint), St. Longinus, who pierced the side of Christ, and St.
George. The whole is exquisitely beautiful. The detail deserves long and
attentive study. The reliefs on the pedestal are characteristic. From
the church of the same name, erected in commemoration of the victory (of
the Taro). I will return hereafter at greater length to this lovely
picture.

Above, to the L (=*=418), _Cosimo Tura_. Pietà, or body of Christ wept
over by the Madonna and angels. In drawing and colouring, a
characteristic example of this harsh, but very original and powerful,
Ferrarese master. You will come hereafter on many Pietàs. Compare them
all, and note the attitude and functions of the angels.

=Cross over again= to the opposite side. (183), _Botticelli_. Round
Madonna and angels, very characteristic as to the drawing, but inferior
in technique to most of his works.

221. _Filippo Lippi._ Madonna in Glory, with angels. The roundness of
the faces, especially in the child angels, is very characteristic. At
her feet, two Florentine patron saints. The absence of symbols makes
them difficult to identify, but I think they represent St. Zenobius and
St. Antonine. Very fine.

184. _Botticelli._ Madonna and Child, with St. John of Florence. The
wistful expressions strike the key-note of this painter. Compare with
nameless Florentine Madonna of the same school above it.

220. _Fra Filippo Lippi._ Nativity. Worthy of careful study, especially
for the accessories: St. Joseph, the stall and bottle, the saddle, ox
and ass, and wattles, ruined temple, etc., which reappear in many
similar pictures. Not a favourable example of the master. Beneath it,
little fragments with St. Peter Martyr, Visitation, Christ and Magdalen,
meeting of Francis and Dominic, and St. Paul the Hermit. An odd
conglomeration, whose meaning cannot now be deciphered. The ruined
temple, frequently seen in Nativities and Adorations of the Magi,
typifies the downfall of Paganism before the advance of Christianity.

Beside it, _Ghirlandajo_. Portrait of bottle-nosed man and child.
Admirable and characteristic.

=**=202. _Ghirlandajo._ Visitation. Probably the master’s finest easel
picture. Splendid colour. Attitudes of the Madonna and St. Elizabeth
characteristic of the type. The scene habitually takes place in front of
a portal, as here, with the heads of the main actors more or less
silhouetted against the arch in the background. At the sides, Mary
Salome, and “the other Mary.” Such saints are introduced merely as
spectators: they need not even be contemporary: they are included in
purely ideal groupings. At Florence, in a similar scene, the as yet
unborn St. John the Baptist stands by as an assessor.

185. Venus and Cupid, of the school of _Botticelli_. Very pleasing.

347. _Cosimo Rosselli._ Madonna in an almond-shaped glory (Mandorla) of
red and blue cherubs. L, the Magdalen; R, St. Bernard, to whom she
appeared, writing down his vision; about, adoring angels. A
characteristic example of this harsh Florentine painter.

156. We come at once upon the High Renaissance in _Lorenzo di Credi’s_
beautiful Virgin and Child, flanked by St. Julian and St. Nicholas.
Observe the three balls of gold in the corner by the latter’s feet,
representative of the three purses thrown to the nobleman’s daughters.
Notice also the Renaissance architecture and decorations. In pictures of
this class, the saints to accompany the Madonna were _ordered_ by the
person giving the commission; the artist could only exercise his
discretion as to the grouping. Notice how this varies with the advance
of the Renaissance: at first stiffly placed in pairs, the saints finally
form a group with characteristic action. The execution of this lovely
work shows Lorenzo as one of the finest artists of his period.

70. _Bianchi_, a rare Ferrarese master. Madonna enthroned, with Saints.
The angel on the step is characteristically Ferrarese, as are also the
reliefs and architecture.

467. Ascetic figure of San Giovanni di Capistrano.

435. _School of Perugino._ Little Madonna, in an almond-shaped glory of
cherubs. The shape belongs to Christ, or saints, ascending into glory.

Next it, front of a chest, containing the story of Europa and the Bull.
Several episodes are combined in a single picture. To the extreme L, the
transformed lover, like the prince in a fairy tale. Most gracefully
treated.

61. _Bellini._ Madonna and Child, between St. Peter and St. Sebastian; a
plague picture. These half-length Madonnas are very characteristic of
Venetian art of the period. The Madonna’s face and strong neck also very
Venetian. Observe them as the type on which Titian’s are modelled. Look
long at this soft and melting picture. The gentle noble face, the dainty
dress, the beautiful painting of the nude in the St. Sebastian, are all
redolent of the finest age of Venetian painting.

Above it, a good _Tura_. Compare with previous one.

60. _School of Gentile Bellini._ Venetian ambassador received at Cairo.
Oriental tinge frequent at Venice. This gate can still be recognised at
Cairo. The figures are all portraits, and the painter probably
accompanied the ambassador, Domenico Trevisano.

Beneath it (59), two fine portraits by _Gentile Bellini_.

664. Characteristic little _Montagna_; angels at the base of a Madonna
now destroyed. Compare the Bianchi almost opposite. Such angels are
frequent in the school of Bellini.

152. Attributed to _Cima_. Madonna Enthroned, with St. John Baptist and
the Magdalen. These lofty thrones and landscape backgrounds of the
Friuli country are frequent with Cima and Venetian painters of his
period.

113. _Carpaccio._ Preaching of St. Stephen. One of a series of the Life
of St. Stephen, now scattered. The saint is in deacon’s robes, as usual;
oriental costumes mark the intercourse of Venice with the East. Observe
the architecture, a graceful compound of Venetian and oriental.

Over the doorway, Fresco of God the Father, in an almond-shaped glory,
from the Villa Magliana. Purchased as a Raphael, probably by _Lo
Spagna_.

Return frequently to this room, and study it deeply. It will give you
the key to all the others.

Now traverse the Salon Carré and enter the

                            Salle Duchâtel.

On the R wall are two exquisite frescoes by _Luini_, removed entire from
walls in Milan. To the L, the Adoration of the Magi, exquisitely tender
and graceful; study it closely as an example both of painter and
subject, noting the ages and attitudes of the Three Kings, the youngest
(as usual) a Moor, and the exquisite face and form of the Madonna. To
the R, a Nativity, equally characteristic. Look long at them. Between,
Christ blessing, not quite so beautiful; and Genii with grapes, an
antique motive. Above are three other frescoes of the school of Luini,
not so fine. Centre, Annunciation, the Madonna separated (as often) from
the angel by a lily. The Madonna never approaches the angel, and is
usually divided by a wall or barrier.

On the screen by door, good portraits by _Antonio Moro_.

Other side of door (680), Madonna and Child, with the donors of the
picture, by _Hans Memling_. This beautiful =Flemish= picture well
represents the characteristics of Flemish as opposed to Italian art.
Notice the want of ideality in the Virgin and Child, contrasted with the
admirable portraiture of the donors, the chief of whom is introduced by
his namesake, St. James, recognisable by his staff and scallop-shell.
The female donors, several of whom are Dominican nuns, are similarly
introduced by their founder, St. Dominic, whose black-and-white robes
and star-like halo serve to identify him. Observe the exquisite finish
of the hair and all the details. Study this work for the Flemish spirit.

At the far end of the room are two pictures by _Ingres_, marking the
interval covered by French art during the lifetime of that great
painter. L, Œdipus and the Sphinx, produced in the classical period of
the master’s youth, while he was still under the malign influence of
David. R, La Source, perhaps the most exquisitely virginal delineation
of the nude ever achieved in painting.

After having traversed these two rooms the spectator will probably be
able to attack the

                              Salon Carré,

which contains what are considered by the authorities as the gems of the
collection, irrespective of period or country (a very regrettable
jumble). Almost all of them, therefore, deserve attention. I shall
direct notice here chiefly to those which require some =explanation=.
Begin to the L of the door which leads from the Salle Duchâtel.

Close to the door, Apollo and Marsyas: a delicate little _Perugino_,
attributed to Raphael. Good treatment of the nude, and painted like a
miniature. Renaissance feeling. Compare it with the St. Sebastian in the
Salle des Primitifs.

Above it, _Jehan de Paris_. Madonna and Child, with the donors; a
characteristic and exceptionally beautiful example of the =early French
school=. Contrast its character with the Italian and Flemish. Extremely
regal and fond of tinsel ornament.

20. _Correggio._ Jupiter and Antiope, a good example of his
Correggiosity and marvellous arrangement of light and shade. Very late
Renaissance. Perfection of art; very little feeling.

=*=446. _Titian._ Entombment. A fine but faded example of the colour and
treatment of the prince of the Venetian Renaissance.

231. _Luini._ Virgin and Child. Not a pleasing example.

=*=419 and =**=417. Two admirable portraits by _Rembrandt_.

=**=250. _Mantegna._ Crucifixion, predella or base of the great picture
in San Zeno at Verona. Notice the admirable antique character of the
soldiers casting lots for Christ’s raiment. The rocks are very
Mantegnesque in treatment. One of the artist’s finest pictures. Spend
some time before it. We will return again to this fine painting.

381. _Andrea del Sarto._ Holy Family. Showing well the character of this
master’s tender and melting colour: also, the altered Renaissance
treatment of the subject.

Beyond the doorway, two dainty little _Memlings_. Marriage of St.
Catherine (the Alexandrian princess) to the Infant Christ; and, the
Donor with St. John Baptist and his lamb. When a saint places his hand
on a votary’s shoulder, it usually indicates the patron whose name the
votary bears.

Near it, graceful little St. Sebastian of the Umbrian school. Compare
with others. This plague-saint is one of the few to whom mediæval piety
permitted nudity.

=*=370. _Raphael._ The great St. Michael, painted for François I^{er}.
Admirable in its instantaneous dramatic action. This picture may be
taken, in its spirit and vigour, as marking the culminating point of the
Italian Renaissance as here represented.

Near it, _Titian_. The Man with the Glove: a fine portrait.

=**=19. _Correggio._ The Marriage of St. Catherine. This is a
characteristic treatment, by the great painter of Parma, of this
mystical subject. St. Catherine is treated as an Italian princess of his
own time, on whose finger the infant Christ playfully places a ring. The
action has absolutely no mystic solemnity. Behind, stands St. Sebastian,
with his arrows to mark him (without them you would not know him from a
classical figure), looking on with amused attention. His smile is
lovely. In the background, episodes of the martyrdom of St. Sebastian,
proving this to be probably a plague picture. But the whole work, though
admirable as art, has in it nothing of religion, and may be aptly
compared as to tone with the Education of Cupid by the same artist in
the National Gallery. Nothing could surpass the beauty of the light and
shade, and the exquisite colouring. Study it as a type of the last word
of the humanist Renaissance against mediæval spirituality. Compare it
with the Memling close by: and, if you have been at Milan, with the
exquisitely dainty Luini in the Poldi-Pezzoli Museum.

Above it, a Holy Family by _Murillo_. Spanish and theatrical.

The greater part of this wall is taken up by an enormous canvas (95), by
_Paolo Veronese_, representing the Marriage at Cana of Galilee, from the
refectory (or dining-hall) of San Giorgio Maggiore at Venice. Pictures
of this subject, or of the Last Supper, or of the Feast in the House of
Levi, were constantly placed as appropriate decorations to fill the end
wall of monastic refectories (like the famous Leonardo at Milan), and
were often therefore gigantic in size. This monstrous and very effective
composition (proudly pointed out by the guides as “the largest
oil-painting in the world”) contains nothing of sacred, and merely
reflects with admirable skill the lordly character of the Italian
Renaissance. In the centre of the table, one barely notices the figures
of the Christ and the Madonna. Attention is distracted both from them
and from the miracle of the wine by the splendid architecture of the
background, the loggias, the accessories, and the gorgeous guests, many
of them representing contemporary sovereigns (among them François
I^{er}, Eleanor of Austria, Charles V, and Sultan Soliman). The group of
musicians in the centre foreground is also composed of portraits—this
time of contemporary painters (Titian, Tintoretto, etc.). As a whole, a
most characteristic picture both of the painter and his epoch, worth
some study, and full of good detail.

=**=39. _Giorgione._ Pastoral scene, with nude figures. One of the few
undoubted pictures by this master, whose genuineness is admitted by
Morelli, though much repainted. Should be studied as an example of the
full flush of the Venetian Renaissance, and of the great master who so
deeply affected it. Notice the admirable painting of the nude, and the
fine landscape in the background. Contrast with the Bellinis in the
Salle des Primitifs, in order to mark time and show the advance in
technique and spirit. Giorgione set a fashion, followed later by Titian
and others. Compare this work with Titian’s Jupiter and Antiope in the
Long Gallery.

Above it (=*=427) _Rubens_. Adoration of the Magi. A splendid picture.
Interesting also as showing how far Rubens transformed the conceptions
of the earlier masters. Compare it with the Luini in the Salle Duchâtel,
and other Adorations in this gallery. Full of gorgeousness, dash, and
certainty of execution.

37. _Antonello da Messina._ Characteristic hard-faced portrait by this
excellent Sicilian artist.

=**=459. _Leonardo._ St. Anne and the Virgin. This great artist can be
better studied in the Louvre than anywhere else in the world. This
picture, not perhaps entirely by his own hand, is noticeable for the
beautiful and very Leonardesque face of St. Anne, the playful figure of
the infant Christ, and the admirable blue-toned landscape in the
background. The smiles are also thoroughly Leonardesque. Notice the
excellent drawing of the feet. The curious composition—the Virgin
sitting on St. Anne’s lap—is traditional. Two or three examples of it
occur in the National Gallery. Leonardo transformed it. He is the great
scientific artist of the Florentine Renaissance.

208. _Hans Holbein_, the younger. Admirable portrait of Erasmus. Full of
character. Note carefully. The hands alone are worth much study. How
soft they are, and how absolutely the hands of a scholar immersed in his
reading and writing.

108. _Clouet._ Elizabeth of Austria. A fine example of the early French
school, marking well its hard manner and literal accuracy. It shows the
style in vogue in Paris before the School of Fontainebleau (Italian
artists introduced by François I^{er}) had brought in Renaissance
methods.

=**=162. _Van Eyck._ Madonna and Child, with the Chancellor Rollin in
adoration. Perhaps Van Eyck’s masterpiece. Notice the comparatively
wooden Flemish Madonna and Child, contrasted with the indubitable
vitality and character in the face of the Chancellor. This picture is a
splendid example of the highest evolution of that type in which a votary
is exhibited adoring the Madonna—the primitive form of portrait: “paint
me in the corner, as giving the picture.” Every detail of this finished
work deserves long and close inspection. Notice the elaboration of the
ornaments, and the delicious glimpse of landscape through the arcade in
the background. Compare with the Memlings; also, with contemporary
Italian work in the Salle des Primitifs.

=**=362. _Raphael._ Madonna and Child, with infant St. John, known as
_La Belle Jardinière_. To the familiar group of the Madonna and Child,
Florentine painters and sculptors early added the infant Baptist, as
patron of their city, thus forming a graceful pyramidal composition.
This exquisite picture, by far the most beautiful Raphael in the Louvre,
belongs to the great painter’s Florentine period. It should be compared
with the very similar Madonna del Cardellino in the Uffizi at Florence.
For simplicity of treatment and beauty of colouring this seems to me the
loveliest of Raphael’s Madonnas, with the exception of the Granduca.
Look at it long, for colour, design, and tender feeling. Then go back to
the St. Michael, and see how, as Raphael gains in dramatic vigour, he
loses in charm.

407. _Rembrandt._ Christ and the Disciples at Emmaus. A fine study in
light and shade, and full of art, but not a sacred picture. Compare with
other pictures of the scene in this gallery. The feeling is merely
domestic.

433. _Rubens._ Tomyris, Queen of the Scythians, with the head of Cyrus.
A fine, vigorous painting, with the action frankly transferred to the
court of Henri IV. Dash and colour and all the Rubens attributes.

365. _Raphael._ Small Holy Family.

364. _Raphael._ Holy Family, known as the “Sainte Famille de François
I^{er}”: Joseph, Madonna, infant Christ, St. Elizabeth and the Baptist,
and adoring angels. Belongs to Raphael’s Roman period, and already
vaguely heralds the decadence. Admirable in composition and painting,
but lacking the simplicity and delicacy of colour of his earlier work.
Compare it with the Belle Jardinière. It marks the distance traversed in
art during his lifetime. The knowledge is far greater, the feeling less.

=**=142. _Van Dyck._ Charles I. A famous and splendid portrait, with all
the courtly grace of this stately painter.

=**=462. _Leonardo._ Portrait of Mona Lisa. Most undoubted work of the
master in existence. Has lost much of its flesh tints by darkening, but
is still subtly beautiful. Compare with any of the portraits in the
Salle des Primitifs, in order to understand the increase in science
which made Leonardo the prince and leader of the Renaissance. The sweet
and sphinx-like smile is particularly characteristic. Observe the
exquisite modelling of the hands, and the dainty landscape background.
Do not hurry away from it.

363. _Raphael._ Madonna with the infant St. John, known as “La Vierge au
Voile.” A work of his early Roman period, intermediate in style between
the Belle Jardinière and the François I^{er}. Compare them carefully.

Above it (379) _Andrea del Sarto_. Charity. A fine example of Andrea’s
soft and tender colouring.

=*=523. Portrait of a young man. Long attributed to Raphael. More
probably _Franciabigio_. Pensive and dignified.

452. _Titian._ Alphonso of Ferrara and his Mistress. A fine portrait,
with its colour largely faded.

Above it, 154. Good portrait by _Van Dyck_.

539. _Murillo._ The Immaculate Conception. Luminous and pretty, in an
affected showy Spanish manner. Foreshadows the modern religious art of
the people. An immense favourite with the inartistic public.

=**=121. _Gerard Dou._ The Dropsical Woman. A triumph of Dutch painting
of light and shade and detail. Faces like miniatures. The lamp and
curtain like nature. Illuminated on the darkest day. Examine it
attentively.

293. _Metsu._ Officer and Lady. Another masterpiece of Dutch minuteness,
but far less fine in execution.

526. _Ter Borch._ Similar subject treated with coarse directness.

=**=551. _Velasquez._ The Infanta Marguerite—a famous portrait.

A little above it (229), _Sebastiano del Piombo_. Visitation. Compare
with the Ghirlandajo in the Salle des Primitifs. A very favourable
example of this Venetian master, painted in rivalry with Raphael. It
well exhibits the height often attained, even by minor masters, at the
culminating point of the Renaissance.

Above, occupying a large part of the wall, =*=_Paolo Veronese_. Christ
and the Magdalen, at the supper in the house of Levi. Another refectory
picture, treated in Veronese’s large and brilliant manner, essentially
as a scene of lordly Venetian life. The Pharisee facing Christ is a fine
figure. Notice the intrusion of animals and casual spectators, habitual
with this artist. The sense of air and space is fine. The whole picture
is instinct with Venetian feeling of the period; scenic, not sacred. A
lordly treatment. Earlier painters set their scene in smaller buildings:
the Venetians of this gorgeous age chose rather the Piazza of some
mighty Renaissance Italian city. Here, the architecture recalls the
style of Sansovino.

This room also contains many good works of the 17th century, justly
skied. Examine them by contrast with the paintings of the best ages of
art beneath them. Return to them later, after you have examined the
works of the French artists in later rooms of this Gallery.

Now proceed into the

                              Long Gallery

which contains in its =First Compartment= works of the High Renaissance
masters, transitional from the conventionality of the 15th, to the
freedom of the 16th, and the theatrical tendency of the 17th centuries.
Begin on the L, and follow that wall as far as the =first archway=.

_Francia._ Crucifixion, with Madonna and St. John, and Job extended at
the feet of the cross, probably indicating a votive plague offering. A
tolerable example of the great Bolognese painter, from the church of San
Giobbe, patriarch and plague-saint, at Bologna.

_Ansuino_(?) Adoration of the Magi. Note coincidences with others.

308. _Francia._ Madonna. A fair example.

168. _Dosso._ St. Jerome in the Desert. Interesting as showing a later
treatment of this familiar subject.

230. _Luini._ Holy Family. A good specimen of Luini’s easel work.
Compare with the frescoes in the Salle Duchâtel. The hair is
characteristic, also the oval face and cast of features.

Near it, two works by _Marco da Oggiono_, a pupil of Leonardo. His work
and Luini’s should be compared with that of the founder of the school.
The differences and agreements should be observed. Notice also the
survivals from earlier treatment.

354. _Sacchi._ The Four Doctors of the Church, attended by the Symbols
of the Four Evangelists. This is a composition which frequently recurs
in early art. L, St. Augustine, holding his book “De Civitate Dei,” with
the Eagle of St. John. Next, St. Gregory, inspired by the Holy Spirit as
a dove, and accompanied by the Bull of St. Luke. Then, St. Jerome, in
his Cardinal’s hat, with the Angel of St. Matthew. Lastly, St. Ambrose
with his scourge (alluding to his action in closing the doors of the
church at Milan on the Emperor Theodosius after the massacre of
Thessalonica), accompanied by the winged Lion of St. Mark. An
interesting symbolical composition, deserving close study.

232. _Luini._ The daughter of Herodias with the head of St. John
Baptist. A favourite subject with the artist, who often repeated it.
Compare it with his other works in this gallery, till you feel you begin
to understand Luini.

Above it, _Borgognone_. Presentation in the Temple. In the pallid
colouring peculiar to this charming Lombard master. Observe the
positions of the High Priest and other personages.

85. _Borgognone._ St. Peter Martyr introducing or commending a Lady
Donor to the Madonna. One panel of a triptych; the rest of it is
wanting. Look out for similar figures of saints introducing votaries.
St. Peter Martyr has usually a wound or a knife in his head, to indicate
the mode of his martyrdom.

Beneath, a quaint little Leonardesque Annunciation.

_Solario._ Calvary, characteristic of the School of Leonardo.

Beneath it, 394, =*=_Solario_. Madonna with the Green Cushion. His
masterpiece, a graceful and tender work, exhibiting the growing taste of
the Renaissance.

458. Attributed to _Leonardo_. The young St. John Baptist. Hair, smile
and treatment characteristic; but possibly a copy. You will meet with
many similar St. Johns in Florentine sculpture below hereafter.

465. School of _Leonardo_. Holy Family. St. Michael the Archangel oddly
introduced in order to permit the Child Christ to play with the scales
in which he weighs souls—a curious Renaissance conception, wholly out
of keeping with earlier reverential feeling.

=*=460. _Leonardo._ “La Vierge aux Rochers.” A replica of the picture in
the National Gallery in London. Much faded, but probably genuine.
Examine closely the rocks, the Madonna, and the Angel.

395. _Solario._ Good portrait of Charles d’Amboise, a member of the
great French family who will frequently crop up in connection with the
Renaissance.

461. Attributed to _Leonardo_, more probably _Bernardino de’ Conti_.
Portrait of a Lady. Compare with the Mona Lisa, as exhibiting well the
real advance in portraiture made by Leonardo.

463. Attributed to _Leonardo_, but probably spurious; Bacchus, a fine
youthful figure, begun as a St. John Baptist, and afterwards altered.
Compare with the other St. John Baptist near it.

=*=_Beltraffio._ The Madonna of the Casio family. A characteristic
Leonardesque virgin, attended by St. John Baptist and the bleeding St.
Sebastian. (A votive picture.) By her side kneel two members of the
Casio family, one the poet of that name, crowned with laurel.
Intermediate Renaissance treatment of the Madonna and donors.

78 and 79. Good Franciscan saints, by _Moretto_.

Between them, 298. Charming _Girolamo dai Libri_.

We now come upon a magnificent series of works by =Titian=, in whom the
Venetian School, ill-represented in its origin in the Salle des
Primitifs, finds its culminating point.

=**=440. _Titian._ The Madonna with the Rabbit. This is one of a group
of Titian’s Madonnas (several examples here) in which he endeavours to
transform Bellini’s type (see the specimen in the Salle des Primitifs)
into an ideal of the 16th century. The Madonna is here attended by St.
Catherine of Alexandria, marked as a princess by her coronet and pearls.
The child, bursting from her arms, plays with the rabbit. Once more a
notion far-removed from primitive piety. Notice the background of
Titian’s own country. =Landscape= is now beginning to struggle for
recognition. Earlier art was all figures, first sacred, then also
mythological.

445. _Titian._ The Crown of Thorns. A powerful but very painful
painting. The artist is chiefly occupied with anatomy and the
presentation of writhing emotion. The spiritual is lost in muscular
action.

=**=443. _Titian._ The Disciples at Emmaus. Treated in the contemporary
Venetian manner. This is again a subject whose variations can be well
traced in this gallery.

451. _Titian._ Allegory of a husband who leaves for a campaign,
commending his wife to Love and Chastity. Finely painted.

450. _Titian._ Portrait of François I^{er}. Famous as having been
painted without a sitting—the artist had never even seen the king. He
took the face from a medal.

448. _Titian._ Council of Trent. Very much to order.

Above it, =*=_Titian_. Jupiter and Antiope. Charming Giorgionesque
treatment of the pastoral nude. Compare with the Giorgione in the Salon
Carré, in order to understand how deeply that great painter influenced
his contemporaries.

453. _Titian._ Fine portrait.

439. _Titian._ Madonna with St. Stephen, St. Ambrose, and St. Maurice
the soldier. Observe the divergence from the older method of painting
the accompanying saints. Originally grouped on either side the Madonna,
they are here transformed into the natural group called in Italian, a
“santa conversazione.” Look at the stages of this process in the Salle
des Primitifs and this Long Gallery.

442. _Titian._ Another Holy Family. Interesting from the free mode of
its treatment, in contrast with Bellini and earlier artists.

=**=455. _Titian._ Magnificent portrait.

Above these are several excellent Bassanos, worthy of study. Compare
together all these Venetian works (Bonifazio etc.), lordly products of a
great aristocratic mercantile community; and with them, the Veroneses of
the Salon Carré, where the type attains a characteristic development.

Now return to the door by the Salon Carré and examine the =R Wall=.

Poor _Pinturicchio_, and two inferior _Peruginos_.

403. _Lo Spagna._ Nativity. Characteristic example of this scholar of
Perugino and fellow-pupil of Raphael. Notice its Peruginesque treatment.
Examine in detail and compare with the two other painters. As a
Nativity, it is full of the conventional elements.

189. _Raffaellino del Garbo._ Coronation of the Virgin, beheld from
below by four attendant saints of, or connected with, the Vallombrosan
order—St. Benedict, Saint Salvi, San Giovanni Gualberto, and San
Bernardo degli Uberti. These were the patrons of Vallombrosa; and the
picture comes from the Church of St. Salvi, at Florence.

246. _Manni._ Baptism in Jordan. Observe, as usual, the attendant
angels, though the simplicity of early treatment has wholly disappeared.
The head-dresses are characteristic of the School of Perugino. Compare
with Lo Spagna’s Nativity.

Above it (496) Florentine Madonna, with St. Augustine, St. John Baptist,
St. Antony and St. Francis. Observe their symbols. I do not always now
call attention to these; but the more you observe them, the better you
will understand each picture as you come to it.

390. _Luca Signorelli._ Adoration of the Magi. A fine example of the
mode of treatment of this excellent anatomical painter, the forerunner
of Michael Angelo. It needs long looking into.

289. _Piero di Cosimo._ Coronation of the Virgin, with St. Jerome, St.
Francis, St. Louis of Toulouse and St. Bonaventura. Compare with
Raffaelino del Garbo, close by, for the double scene, on earth and in
heaven. Notice the crown which Louis refused, in order to embrace the
monastic profession. This is a Franciscan picture; you will find it
casts much light on assemblages of saints if you know for what order
each picture was painted. The grouping _always_ means _something_.

16. _Albertinelli._ Madonna on a pedestal, with St. Jerome and St.
Zenobius. Scenes from their legends in the background. A characteristic
example of the Florentine Renaissance. The grouping is in the style then
fast becoming fashionable. Compare with Lorenzo di Credi in the Salle
des Primitifs.

144. _Pontormo._ Visitation. Showing the older Renaissance tendencies.
Compare with the Ghirlandajo, and note persistence of the arch in the
background.

=*=57. _Fra Bartolommeo._ Marriage of St. Catherine of Siena. This is a
variant on the legend of the other St. Catherine—of Alexandria. The
infant Christ is placing a ring on the holy nun’s finger. Around are
attendant saints—Peter, Vincent, Stephen, etc. The composition is
highly characteristic of the painter and his school.

380. _Andrea del Sarto._ Holy Family. Exquisitely soft in outline and
colour.

372. Doubtful. Attributed to _Raphael_. Charming portrait of a young
man.

Beyond it,=*= two most delicate little pictures of St. George (a man)
and St. Michael (an angel, winged) of _Raphael’s_ very early period.
Note the princess in the St. George; you will come upon her again.
Simple and charming. Trace Raphael’s progress in this gallery, by means
of Kugler.

Beyond them, again, two portraits by _Raphael_, of which 373 is of
doubtful authenticity.

=*=366. _Raphael._ The Young St. John: a noble figure.

=**=367. _Raphael._ St. Margaret: issuing triumphant from the dragon
which has swallowed her. A figure full of feeling and movement, and
instinct with his later science. It was painted for François I^{er}, out
of compliment to his sister, Queen Margaret of Navarre.

All these Raphaels should be carefully studied. The great painter began
with a certain Peruginesque stiffness, through which nevertheless his
own native grace makes itself felt at once; he progressed rapidly in
knowledge and skill at Florence and Rome, but showed a tendency in his
last works towards the incipient faults of the later Renaissance. By
following him here, in conjunction with Florence and Rome, you can gain
an idea of the course of his development.

The =Second Compartment= of the Long Gallery, which we now enter, though
containing several works by Titian and other masters of the best period,
is mainly devoted to painters of the later 16th and 17th century, when
the decline in taste was rapid and progressive. Notice throughout the
substitution of rhetorical gesture and affected composition for the
simplicity of the early masters, or the dignity and truth of the High
Renaissance. Begin again on the L wall, containing finer pictures than
that opposite.

441. _Titian._ Another Holy Family, with St. Catherine. Both women here
are Venetian ladies of high rank and of his own period. Observe,
however, the persistence of the Madonna’s white head-covering. Also, the
playfulness introduced in the treatment of St. Catherine’s palm of
martyrdom, and the childish St. John with his lamb. These attributes
would have been treated by earlier painters with reverence and
solemnity. Titian transfers them into mere pretty accessories.
Characteristic landscape background. (The female saint in this work is
usually described as St. Agnes, because of the lamb: I think
erroneously. The lamb is St. John’s, and the St. Catherine merely plays
with it.)

88. _Calcar._ Fine portrait of a young man.

38. Attributed (very doubtfully) to _Giorgione_. Holy Family, with St.
Sebastian, St. Catherine, and the donor, kneeling. A good example of the
intermediate treatment of saints in groups of this character.

Above it (92) _Paolo Veronese_. Esther and Ahasuerus. Treated in the
lordly fashion of a Venetian pageant. Try now to understand this
Venetian ideal in style and colour.

91. _Paolo Veronese._ Similar treatment of Susanna and the Elders, a
traditional religious theme, here distorted into a mere excuse for the
nude, in which the Renaissance delighted.

=**=274. _Palma Vecchio._ Adoration of the Shepherds. A noble example of
this great Venetian painter. Observe how he transforms the traditional
accessories in the background, and employs them in the thorough Venetian
spirit.

Beyond it, several small Venetian pictures. Self-explanatory, but worthy
of close attention; especially 94, a delicate _Paolo Veronese_, on a
most unusual scale—a Venetian Dominican nun presented by her patroness,
St. Catherine, and St. Joseph to the Madonna. Also, 93, by the same
artist, St. George and St. Catherine presenting a Venetian gentleman to
the Madonna and Child. These two saints were the male and female patrons
of the Venetian territory; hence their frequency in Venetian pictures.

99. The Disciples at Emmaus. Another characteristic transformation by
_Veronese_ of a traditional scene. The pretence of sacredness is very
thin.

98. _Paolo Veronese._ Calvary. Similarly treated.

=*=335. _Tintoretto._ Susanna at the Bath. Admirable example of this
artist’s bold and effective method. In him the Venetian School attains
its last possible point before the decadence.

Beneath it, two good Venetian portraits.

336. _Tintoretto._ A characteristic Paradise (sketch for the great
picture in the Doge’s Palace at Venice), whose various circles of saints
and angels should be carefully studied. Gloomy glory.

Above it, 17. A Venetian gentleman introduced to the Madonna by St.
Francis and a sainted bishop, with St. Sebastian in the background.
Doubtless, a votive picture in gratitude for the noble donor’s escape
from the plague.

Beyond these, we come chiefly upon Venetian pictures of the Decadence,
among which the most noticeable are the Venetian views by Canaletto and
Guardi, showing familiar aspects of the Salute, the Doge’s Palace, San
Zaccaria, and other buildings.

Further on, this compartment contains =Spanish pictures=,—an artificial
arrangement not without some real justification, since in the 16th and
17th centuries, Spain, enriched by her American possessions, became, for
a short period, the material and artistic inheritor of Italy, and
accepted in full the mature fruits of the Italian Renaissance. At the
same time, she imbued the developed arts she received from Italy with
Spanish showiness and love of mere display, to the exclusion of deeper
spiritual feeling. The most famous among the few Spanish pictures of the
Louvre are:—

552. =**=_Velasquez._ Philip IV of Spain.

Beneath it, =*=_Murillo_. One of his favourite Boy Beggars, killing
fleas. A curious subject, excellently rendered.

548. _Ribera._ Adoration of the Shepherds.

540. _Murillo._ Birth of the Virgin, where the transformation of the
traditional element is even more marked than in the Italian Renaissance.
The colouring splendid. St. Anne is always seen in bed; other points you
could notice in the enamels at Cluny. With Murillo, they become mere
excuses for display of art-faculty.

Further on, _Murillo_. The occupants of a poor monastery in Spain
miraculously fed by angels, known as “La Cuisine des Anges.”

I do not recommend more than a cursory examination of these fine Spanish
works, which can only be properly understood by those who have visited
Madrid and Seville. It will suffice to note their general
characteristics, and the way in which they render traditional subjects.
The best point of view for the “Cuisine des Anges,” is obtained from the
seat nearly opposite, beneath the archway, when the splendid luminous
qualities of this theatrical picture can be better appreciated. From
this point also, many of the other Spanish pictures are well seen with
an opera-glass. They are not intended for close examination.

(The =columns= which separate these compartments have an interesting
history. They first belonged to a classical temple in North Africa. They
were brought thence by Louis XIV to support a baldacchino at St.
Germain-des-Prés. Finally, the Revolution transferred them to the
Louvre.)

Return again, now, to the last archway, and begin once more on the =R
side=, which contains for the most part tawdry works of the Baroque
period, which should, however, be studied to some extent in illustration
of the decadence of art in the later 16th century, and also as examples
of further transformation of the traditional motives.

53. _Barocci._ Madonna in Glory, with St. Antony and St. Lucy. A good
example of the insipid style which took its name from this master.

Below it, 309. _Bagnacavallo._ Circumcision, with twisted pillars,
showing the decline in architectural taste. The crowded composition may
be instructively compared with earlier and simpler examples of this
subject; also, with Fra Bartolommeo, whose fine but complex arrangements
rapidly resulted in such confused grouping.

52. _Barocci._ Same scene. The tradition now entirely ignored, and an
unpleasantly realistic, yet theatrical and mannered treatment,
introduced.

304. After _Primaticcio_. Mythological concert, exhibiting the taste of
the =School of Fontainebleau= (the Italian artists of Raphael’s group,
scholars of Giulio Romano, introduced into France by François I^{er}).

349. _Rosselli._ Triumphant David, with the head of Goliath. Marking the
advance of the histrionic tendency.

A very cursory examination of the rest of the works on this wall will
probably be sufficient. Look them over in an hour. The most celebrated
are two by Salvator Rosa: 318, _Guido Reni’s_ Ecce <DW25>, full of tawdry
false sentiment; and _Domenichino’s_ St. Cecilia (often copied), with
the angel reduced to the futile decorative winged boy of the period.
324, _Guido’s_ St. Sebastian, may be well compared with Perugino’s, as
marking the decline which art had suffered. It is on works like these
that the Spanish School largely based itself.

This completes the =Italian collection= of the Louvre, to which the
visitor should return again and again, until he feels he has entered
somewhat into the spirit and tone of its various ages.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Between the next two archways, we come to a small collection of works of
the =Early French School=, too few of which unfortunately remain to us.

=Left Wall.= Two portraits of François I^{er}, may be well compared with
the Titian of the same king, as indicating the gulf which still
separated France from the art-world of Italy. The hard, dry, wooden
manner of these French works is strongly contrasted with the finished
art of the Italian Renaissance. Recollect that these seemingly archaic
portraits are painted by contemporaries of Raphael and Titian.

Between them, good miniatures, by Nicolas Froment, of King René and his
Queen.

Above, 650. Admirable Dead Christ, with the Madonna, Magdalen, Joseph of
Arimathea, etc. In the best style of the French School of the 15th
century. Observe the action of the various personages: all are
conventional.

Beyond it, several good small pictures of the early French Renaissance
which should be carefully examined. Fouquet’s portrait of Charles VII is
a capital example of the older method.

Above them, 875, characteristic 15th century Crucifixion, with Last
Communion and Martyrdom of St. Denis. The executioner’s face is French
all over. (Scenes from the Passion have often in French art such
side-scenes from lives of saints. Several at Cluny.) This picture has
been employed as a basis for the restoration of the reliefs in the
portals at St. Denis.

Beyond again, portraits of the early Renaissance, exhibiting
considerable advance in many cases.

On the =R wall= are some works more distinctly characteristic of the
=school of art= which grew up round Primaticcio and his scholars at
=Fontainebleau=. Among them are a Diana hunting (D. de Poitiers again),
and a Continence of Scipio. They reflect the style of Giulio Romano.
Beneath the first, two good portraits, with patron saints (John and
Peter). All the works in this compartment should be examined carefully,
as showing the raw material upon which subsequent French art was
developed.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Beyond the next archway, we come to the pictures of the =Flemish
School=, which deserve almost equal attention with the Italian, as
individual works, but which, as of less interest in the general history
of art, I shall treat more briefly. Begin here on the =R side=, for
chronological order.

Among the most noticeable pictures are Adam and Eve, unnumbered, good
specimens of the frank, unidealised northern nude.

595. An exquisite early Annunciation, the spirit of which should be
compared with the early Italians. Notice the general similarity of
accessories, combined with the divergence in spirit, the dwelling on
detail, the Flemish love for effects of light and shade on brass-work,
fabrics, glasses, etc. Notice that this charming picture gives us the
early stage in the evolution of that type of art which culminates in the
Gerard Dou in the Salon Carré.

Beside it, an exquisitely tender Dead Christ. Remarkable for the finish
in the background.

The _Quentin Matsys_ is not a worthy representative of the master.

Beside it, a quaint and striking group of Votaries, listening to a
sermon. Probably a mere excuse for portrait-painting. The character in
the faces is essentially Flemish.

Fine portrait of a young man with a pink, in a red cap.

Triptych, with the Madonna and Child (who may be well compared with
those of the Memling in the Salle Duchâtel). On the flaps, the donor and
his wife, introduced by their patrons, St. John and St. Christopher.

Now cross over to the =L side=.

=*=698. _Rogier Van der Weyden._ Excellent Deposition, with a touching
St. John, and a very emaciated Dead Christ. These scenes of death are
extremely common in Flemish and German art, and resulted in a great
effort to express poignant emotion, as contrasted with the calmer
ecstatic character of Italian art.

=**=279. _Quentin Matsys._ Banker and his wife. An admirable and
celebrated picture, with marvellous detail, of which there are variants
elsewhere. Notice the crystal vase, mirror, leaves of book, and objects
on shelves in background. The fur is exquisitely painted.

=*=288 and 289. Two beautiful little _Memlings_.

588. Most characteristic and finished Holy Family.

699. _Memling._ St. Sebastian, Resurrection, Ascension. Compare the
first with Italian examples. Notice the extraordinarily minute work in
the armour and accessories, contrasted with the blank and meaningless
face of the Risen Saviour. Flemish art, perfect in execution, seldom
attains high ideals.

277 and 278. _Mabuse._ Virgin and donor. Excellent.

**596. _Gerard David._ Marriage at Cana. A splendid specimen of this
great and insufficiently recognised painter. Background of buildings at
Bruges. Every face and every portion of the decorative work, including
the jars in the foreground, should be closely noticed. The kneeling
donor is an admirable portrait. As a whole, what a contrast to the Paolo
Veronese! The pretty, innocent face of the bride, with her air of mute
wonder, is excellently rendered. I believe the donor in this work is a
younger portrait of the Canon who appears in the glorious Gerard David
in the National Gallery.

Skied above all these pictures on either side are several works by _Van
Veen_, _Jan Matsys_, _Snyders_ and others, mostly worthy of notice.
Among them, 136, _Van Dyck_, good Madonna with the Magdalen and other
saints.

We now come to the =**=great series by =Rubens= narrating the =History
of Marie de Médicis=, in the inflated allegorical style of the period.
To understand them, the spectator should first read an account of her
life in any good French history. These great decorative canvasses were
painted hurriedly, with even more than Rubens’s usual dash and freedom,
to Marie’s order, after her return from exile, for the decoration of her
rooms at the Luxembourg (see Part V) which she had just erected. Though
designed by Rubens, they were largely executed by the hands of pupils;
and while possessing all the master’s exuberant artistic qualities in
composition, they are not favourable specimens of his art, as regards
execution and technique. It is to be regretted that most Englishmen and
Frenchmen form their impressions of the painter from these vigorous but
rapid pictures, rather than from his far nobler works at Antwerp,
Munich, and Vienna. I give briefly the meaning of the series.

1. The Three Fates spin Marie’s destiny. A small panel for the side of a
door.

2. Birth of Marie at Florence. Lucina, goddess of birth, with her torch,
attends the mother. Genii scatter flowers; others hold her future crown.
In the foreground, the River God of the Arno, with his stream issuing
from an urn, and accompanied by the Florentine lion, as well as by boys
holding the Florentine lily. This curious mixture of allegorical
personages and realities is continued throughout the series.

3. Her Education, presided over by Minerva, with the aid of Mercury (to
indicate her rapidity in learning), and Apollo, as teacher of the arts.
Close by are the Graces, admirable nude figures. Among the accessories,
bust of Socrates, painting materials, etc.

4. The Genius of France in attendance upon Henri IV, while Love shows
him Marie’s portrait. The attitude of the king expresses delight and
astonishment. In the clouds, Jupiter and Juno smile compliance. Below,
little Loves steal the king’s shield and helmet.

5. Marriage of Marie by proxy. The Grand Duke Ferdinand represents the
king. Hymen holds the torch.

6. Marie lands at Marseilles, and is received by France, while Tritons
and Nereids give easy passage to her vessel. Above, her Fame. On the
vessel, the balls or _palli_ of the Medici family.

7. Consummation of the Marriage at Lyons. The town itself is seen in the
background. In the foreground, the (personified) city, crowned with a
mural coronet, and designated by her lions. Above, the King, as Jupiter,
with his eagle, and the Queen, as Juno, with her peacocks.

8. Birth of her son, afterwards Louis XIII, at Fontainebleau. Health
receives the infant. Fortune attends the Queen.

9. The King, setting out to his war against Germany, makes Marie
Regent—allegorically represented by passing her the ball of empire—and
confides to her their son.

Larger pictures: No. 10, the Coronation of the Queen, and No. 11, the
Apotheosis of Henri, the painful scene of his death being avoided. He is
represented as raised to the sky by Jupiter on one side, and Death with
his sickle on the other. Beneath, the assassin, as a serpent, wounded
with an arrow. Victory and Bellona mourning. Beyond, the allegorical
figure of France presenting the regency to Marie, with the acclamation
of the nobility and people.

12. The Queen’s government approved of by Jupiter, Juno, and the
heavenly powers. In the foreground Apollo, Mars, and Minerva (the first
copied from the antique statue known as the Belvedere), representing
courage, art, and literature, dispel calumny and the powers of darkness.

Continue on the =opposite side=, crossing over =directly=.

13. Civil discord arises. Marie starts for Anjou, attended by Victory.
Military preparations in the background.

14. The exchange of Princesses between allegorical figures of France and
Austria—each intended to marry the heir of the other empire.

15. The Happiness of the Regency. The Queen bears the scales of justice.
Plenty prevails. Literature, science, art, and beauty predominate over
evil, slander, and baseness.

16. Louis XIII attains his Majority (at 14) and mans the ship of State
in person, still attended by the counsels of his mother. The Virtues row
it.

17. Calumny overcomes the Queen. By the advice of her counsellors, she
takes refuge at Blois, escorted by Wisdom.

18. Mercury, as messenger, brings an olive branch to Marie, as a token
of reconciliation from her son, through the intermediation of Richelieu
and the Church party.

19. Marie enters the Temple of Peace, escorted by Mercury and Truth with
her torch, while blind Rage and the evil powers stand baffled behind
her.

20. Apotheosis of Marie and Louis: their reconciliation and happiness.
Final overthrow of the demons of discord.

21. Time brings Truth to light. Louis recognises the good influence of
his mother.

The history, as given in these pictures, is of course envisaged from the
point of view of a courtier, who desires to flatter and please his
patroness.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Beneath this great series of Rubens are a number of =Dutch and Flemish
Pictures=, mostly admirable and well worthy of attention, but, so to
speak, self-explanatory. They belong entirely to modern feeling. Dutch
and Flemish art, in its later form, is the domestic development of that
intense love of minute detail and accessories already conspicuous in Van
Eyck, Memling, and Gerard David. Sacred subjects almost disappear; the
wealthy burghers ask for portraits of themselves, their wives and
families, or landscapes for their households. I would call special
notice to the following among many which should be closely examined to
show the progress of art:—512, _Teniers_; 691, _Rubens_; 518,
_Teniers_; 238 and 239, _Van Huysum_; =*=425, a charming _Rubens_, in
his smaller and more delicate style; 147, admirable portrait by _Van
Dyck_; 513, an excellent _Teniers_; =*=461, a good portrait by _Rubens_;
125, exquisite, luminous _Gerard Dou_; next it =**=_Van der Helst’s_
Four Judges of the Guild of Cross-bow-men deciding on the prizes, one of
the most perfect specimens of this great portrait painter. Notice the
wonderful life-like expressions. Then 123, another exquisite luminous
_Dou_; 542, _Van de Velde_; 41, splendid portrait by _Bol_; 130, _Gerard
Dou_ by himself; =**=404, =Rembrandt=, Raphael leaving the house of
Tobias, a master-piece of the artist’s weird and murky
luminosity—strangely contrasted with Italian examples; 205, a good
_Hobbema_; 133, fine portrait by _Duchâtel_; 369, excellent family group
by _Van Ostade_; next it, 126, a delicious little _Dou_. But, indeed,
every one of these Dutch paintings should be examined separately, in
order to understand the characteristic Dutch virtues of delicate
handling, exquisite detail, and domestic portraiture. They are the
artistic outcome of a nation of housewives.

On the =opposite side= the series is continued with admirable
flower-pieces, landscapes by Van der Veldt and Karel du Jardin, and
several noteworthy portraits, among which notice the famous =*=_Van
Dyck_ (143) of the children of Charles I., most daintily treated. Beyond
the Rubenses, again, on this side, 144, two noble portraits by _Van
Dyck_, and several excellent examples of Philippe de Champaigne, a
Flemish artist who deeply influenced painting in France, where he
settled. =**=151, _Van Dyck’s_ Duke of Richmond, perhaps his most
splendid achievement in portraiture, deserves careful study. I do not
further enlarge upon these subjects because the names and dates of the
painters, with the descriptions given on the frames, will sufficiently
enable the judicious spectator to form his own conceptions. Devote at
least a day to Dutch and Flemish art here, and then go back to the Salon
Carré, to see how the Rembrandts, Dous, and Metsus, there unfortunately
separated from their compeers, fall into the general scheme of Dutch
development.

Good view out of either window as you pass the next archway. Look out
for these views in all parts of the Louvre. They often give you glimpses
of the minor courtyards, to which the general public are not admitted.

The =next two compartments= contain further Dutch and Flemish pictures
of high merit—portraits, still-life, landscape, and other subjects. The
scenes of village life are highly characteristic. Notice in this
connection the growing taste for =landscape=, at first with a pretence
of figures and animals, but gradually asserting its right to be heard on
its own account. In Italy, under somewhat similar commercial conditions,
we saw this taste arise in the Venetian School, with Cima, Giorgione,
and Titian; in Holland, after the Reformation put sacred art at a
discount, it became almost supreme. And note at the same time how the
Reformation in commercial countries has wholly altered the =type= of
northern art, focussing it on trivial domestic incidents.

Among the many beautiful pictures in these compartments the spectator
should at least not miss, on the L, the very charming =**=Portrait by
_Rubens_ (not quite finished) of his second wife and two children,
scarcely inferior to the lovely specimen at Munich. Near it, an
admirable Crucifixion with the Madonna, St. John, and Magdalen, more
reminiscent than is usual with Rubens of earlier compositions. On the R
side, notice a portrait of Elizabeth of France (459), by _Rubens_, in
his other, stiffer, and more courtly manner. We may well put down this
peculiarity to the wishes of the sitter. His =*=Kermesse, near it, is an
essay in the style afterwards popularized by Teniers, in which the great
artist permits his Flemish blood to overcome him, and produces a clever
but most unpleasant picture. The numerous admirable fruit and flower
pieces, works in still-life, etc., which these compartments contain,
must be studied for himself by the attentive visitor. In Rubens’ great
canvas of the Triumph of Religion, painted for a Spanish commission,
observe his curious external imitation of Spanish tendencies.

After having completed his examination of the Long Gallery, the visitor
may next proceed to the five small rooms—IX, X, XI, XII, and XIII on
Baedeker’s map—devoted to

             The German, English and Early French Schools.

Among the =early German works= in the 2nd of these rooms, the visitor
may particularly notice (=*=22), _Hans Holbein’s_ portrait of Southwell,
full of character. Above it, a quaint Venus by _Cranach_, instinct with
the northern conception of the crude nude. Next, two good portraits by
_Holbein_. In the centre of this wall, =*=a Descent from the Cross, of
the School of Cologne, which should be compared with similar pictures of
the Italian and Flemish Schools. The somewhat exaggerated expression of
grief on all the faces is strongly characteristic of German tendencies.
The figure of the Magdalen, to the R, strikes the German keynote; so
does Joseph of Arimathea receiving the Crown of Thorns. Study this well,
for coincidences with and differences from Italian treatment. Beyond it,
two fine _Holbeins_, of the astronomer Kratzer, and =*=Warham,
Archbishop of Canterbury, the latter a marvellous piece of painting. The
opposite wall also contains good portraits and sacred pieces, among
which an altar-piece by the “Master of the Death of the Virgin,”
deserves careful study. (Most early German masters are unknown to us by
name, and are thus identified by their most famous pictures.) The Last
Supper in this work, below, is largely borrowed from Leonardo. Compare
with the copy of Leonardo’s fresco at Milan in the Long Gallery,
probably by Marco da Oggionno, which hangs near the Vierge aux Rochers.
The Adoration of the Magi (597), should also be compared with the
Italian examples; notice in particular the burgher character of the
Three Kings, which is essentially German. The other works in this room
can be sufficiently studied (for casual observers) by the aid of the
labels.

The =English Room= contains a few examples of English masters of the
last and present century, none of them first-rate. The most famous is
the frequently reproduced Little Girl with Cherries by the pastellist
_John Russel_. It is a pleasing work, but not good in colour.

The next room, with an admirable view from the window, begins the
=Modern French School= (in the wide sense), and contains Le Sueur’s
History of the Life of St. Bruno, painted for a Carthusian monastery
near the Luxembourg—of which order the saint was the founder. They are
characteristic examples of the French work of the early 17th century,
and they exhibit the beginnings of the national tendencies in art. The
legends are partially explained on the frames, and more fully in Mrs.
Jameson’s “Monastic Orders.” On a cursory inspection, the observer will
notice the marked French tendency in the 9th, 7th, 21st, and 22nd of the
series. Cold and lifeless in design and colour, these feeble works have
now little more than a historical interest.

Before proceeding to the succeeding rooms of the

                             French School,

you had better form some conception of the circumstances and conditions
under which that school arose. The artists whom François I^{er} invited
to Fontainebleau had little influence on French art, except in sculpture
(where we shall see their spirit abundantly at work when we come to
examine the Renaissance sculpture in this collection). Primaticcio and
his followers, however, left behind them in France, as regards painting,
scarcely more than the sense of a need for improvement. Succeeding
French artists took up the Italian Renaissance in the stage represented
by the later decadents and the eclectic Caracci. Nicolas Poussin
(1594–1665) is the first Frenchman to attain distinction in this line;
he throws something of French sentimentality into the affected
mythological scenes of contemporary Italy. Claude of Lorraine, again, is
almost an Italian by training and style; his artificial landscapes, not
copied direct from nature, but built up by arbitrary and often
impossible conjunctions, represent the prevailing tendencies of Italian
art in the 17th century. On the other hand, the influence of Rubens,
many of whose greatest works were painted for French kings, or came
early to France, and still more of Philippe de Champaigne, a Brussels
master who settled in Paris and painted much for Richelieu and Marie de
Médicis, introduced into France a strain of Flemish influence. On these
two schools—decadent Italian and later Flemish—then, modern French art
at first based itself; the final outcome is a resultant of the two,
transmuted and moulded in spirit and form by the innate, though at first
unrealised, French tendencies.

Also, before you proceed to examine the subsequent specimens of the
development of French art, you had better return to the Salon Carré to
inspect the portraits by Philippe de Champaigne, as well as the
Jouvenet, the Rigaud, and other French works there, which I purposely
passed by on our previous visit, as out of harmony with the Italian
masterpieces. On your way back, glance at the later Italian pictures in
the First Compartment of the Long Gallery (particularly at Bronzino’s
odiously vulgar Christ and Mary Magdalen, and Rossi’s Doubting Thomas,
both skied, on your R) as conspicuous examples of the sort of thing
admired at the time when the French School took its first flights and
made its earliest experiences. Then observe once more the works of the
School of Fontainebleau; and, finally, inspect the pictures in
Baedeker’s Room IX; after which, you will be in a position to start fair
in Room XIII, with the French School in the 17th century.

This Small Room beyond the St. Brunos contains more favourable specimens
of _Le Sueur’s_ faculty (such as 559, 556, and 551), in which a
distinctive French tendency still more markedly announces itself. The
Ganymede, in 563, in particular, faintly foreshadows at a distance the
classic painters of the Empire. We see in this room, in a very vague
way, an early stage in the evolution of a David.

Passing through the Landing, at the head of the staircase (with
interesting terra-cotta Etruscan sarcophagi) we arrive at the Great
Gallery of =French paintings of the 17th century=. These may be examined
somewhat in the mass, exhibiting, as they do, rather the courtly
tendencies of the age of Louis XIV than any great individual artistic
faculty. We must understand them in the spirit which built Versailles
and conducted the wars on the north-eastern frontier. They are painted
for the most part by the command of His Majesty. Only here and there
does a faintly individual work, like _Le Sueur’s_ Christ and the
Magdalen, and Bearing of the Cross, or _Lebrun’s_ Crucifixion, arrest
for a moment one’s passing attention. The crudeness of the colour, and
the insufficiency of the composition, will be the chief points, in a
general survey, to strike the spectator. (On a screen in the centre, out
of proper place among its contemporaries, hangs at present _Paul
Delaroche’s_ famous Christian Martyr.)

The student who has courage to attack this mass of uninteresting art in
detail, should observe particularly the works of _N. Poussin_, as
forming the point of departure for the School in general. His Bacchanal
and other mythological works set the fashion of those dreary allegorical
scenes which cover so many yards of ceilings in the Louvre. Observe the
mixture of religious themes, like _Lebrun’s_ Martyrdom of Stephen, and
_N. Poussin’s_ Holy Family, with classical pictures like the Rescue of
Pyrrhus, and the Alexander and Porus, as well as the close similarity of
treatment in both cases. Among the best of the lot are _Jouvenet’s_
Raising of Lazarus, and _Lesueur’s_ Paul Preaching at Ephesus (partly
after Raphael). =*_Poussin’s_= “Et in Arcadia ego,” a rustic morality,
is also famous, and is regarded as the greatest achievement of this
artificial School. _Claude’s_ landscapes, often with a small inserted
mythological story by another painter, deserve attention. (Note that
landscape has hardly yet vindicated its claim to independent existence.)
On the whole, it may be said that this room represents the two
prevailing influences in French art of the purely monarchical period of
Louis XIV,—either the pictures are quasi-royal and official, or else
they are religious, for church or monastery. The mythological scenes,
indeed, have often a royal reference—are supposed parallels of
contemporary events; and even the religious scenes, wholly destitute of
spiritual feeling, are painted in a courtly, grandiose manner. They are
saints as conceived by flunkeys. Not till the Revolution swept away the
royal patron did the French spirit truly realise itself. This room
=reveals the Court=, not the nation.

The next room, in the Pavillon Denon, a connecting passage, contains
=Portraits of Painters=, chiefly by themselves, a few of which are
worthy of attention. Among them is the famous and touching =**=portrait
by =Mme. Lebrun= of herself and her daughter, which, in spite of some
theatrical sentiment here and there obtruded, is a charming realisation
of maternal feeling amply reciprocated.

Beyond it we come to the =French Gallery of the 18th century=,
reflecting for the most part the spirit of the Regency and the Louis XV
period. Much of it is meretricious; much of it breathes the atmosphere
of the boudoir. The flavour of Du Barry pervades it almost all. It
scents of musk and powder. The reader will pick out for himself such
works as he admires in this curious yet not wholly unpleasing mass of
affectation and mediocrity. Indeed, as opposed to the purely official
work in the preceding French room, the growth of the =rococo= spirit, to
be traced in this gallery, is by no means without interest. The one set
of works sets forth the ideal of monarchy as a formal institution; the
other displays its actual outcome in royal mistresses and frivolous
amusements. Here too the ornate French taste—the Dresden china and
Sèvres taste—finds its first faint embodiment. _Greuze’s_ famous
=*=Cruche Cassée (263), is the chief favourite with visitors to this
room. It has about it a certain false simplicity, a pretended virginal
innocence, which is perhaps the highest point of art this school could
attain. _Drouais’s_ child portraits (187), are more entirely
characteristic, in their red-and-white chubbiness, of the ideas of the
epoch. The pastoral scenes by _Watteau_ and _Vanloo_, represent nature
and country life, as they envisaged themselves to the painted and
powdered great ladies of the Trianon. _Coypel’s_ Esther before Ahasuerus
is a not unfavourable specimen of the inflated quasi-sacred style of the
period. Some good portraits redeem the general high level of mediocrity
in this room, but do not equal those of the daintily aristocratic
English School of the end of the 18th century. Two _Greuzes_ (267 and,
still more, 266), reveal the essentially artificial methods of this
superficially taking painter. Most observers begin by admiring him and
end by disliking his ceaseless posing. _Boucher’s_ artificial
pink-and-white nudities (as in 24 and 26), have the air of a man who
painted, as he did, in a room hung round with rose- satin. He is
perhaps the most typical of these rococo artists: he imitates on canvas
the coquettish ideals of the contemporary china-painters. _Fragonard_,
again, throws into this school the love of display and bravado of a
southern temperament. At the far end of the room we find in _Greuze’s_
later moralising pictures faint indications of the altered and somewhat
more earnest feeling which produced the revolutionary epoch, still
closely mixed up with the ineradicable affectation and unreality of the
painter and his period. Two little stories of a Prodigal Son and his too
late return, on either side of the doorway, with their violent
theatrical passion and their excessive expression of impossible emotion,
illustrate well this nascent tendency. They are attempts to feel where
feeling was not really present. _David’s_ Paris and Helen introduces us,
on the other hand, to the beginnings of the cold classicism which
prevailed under the Empire.

In order to continue the chronological examination of the French School
the visitor must now return to the Salon Carré and traverse the vulgarly
ornate Galerie d’Apollon by its side (which contains objects of more or
less artistic interest in the precious metals and precious stones, many
of which, especially those in the two last cases, deserve careful
inspection. A morning should, if possible, be devoted later to this
collection).

A short connecting room beyond (with gold Etruscan jewelery) gives
access next to the =Salle des Sept Cheminées=, which contains many stiff
but excellent works of the period of the =Empire=. The most noticeable
of these are by _David_, whose formal classicism (a result of the
revolutionary revolt from Christianity, with its reliance upon Greek,
and still more Roman, morality and history) is excellently exemplified
in his large picture of the =*=Sabine Women Intervening between their
Husbands and their Fathers. This is considered his masterpiece. Its
frigid style, not very distantly resembling that of a bas-relief, and
its declamatory feeling do not blind us to the excellence of its general
technique and its real advance on the art of the 18th century. _David_
imitated the antique, but was always sculpturesque rather than pictorial
in treatment. Among other fine examples of this =classic period=—the
transitional stage between the 18th century and the distinctively modern
spirit—attention may be called to _Gérard’s_ Cupid and Psyché, and to
his fine portrait of the Marquis Visconti. =*_Mme. Lebrun’s_= charmingly
animated portrait of Mme. Molé-Raymond, the comedian, is full of real
vigour. Two good portraits by _David_, of himself and Pius VII, deserve
close inspection. _Gros’s_ Bonaparte at Arcola, is also interesting.
=_Mme. Lebrun’s_= earlier portrait of herself and her daughter is less
beautiful than the one we have already examined. Several military
portraits, such as Gros’s Fournier-Sarlovèze, reflect the predominant
militarism of the epoch. _David’s_ huge canvas of the Coronation of
Napoleon I in Notre-Dame is typical of another side of the great
artist’s development. Gradually, the frigidity of the early
revolutionary period gave way to the growing =romanticism= of 1830.
_Géricault’s_ Raft of the Medusa (sighting a sail after twelve days
out), strikes the first keynote of the modern romantic movement. It
created a great sensation in its own day, and gave rise to endless
discussion and animadversion. It marks the advent of the =emotional= in
modern art. _Gros’s_ Bonaparte Visiting the Plague-stricken at Jaffa,
also indicates in another way a marked modernising tendency. The school
of blood and wounds, of the morbid and the ghastly, has here its
forerunner. All the works in this room (which modernity forbids me to
treat at adequate length) should be carefully studied in detail and
comparison by those who wish to understand the various steps which led
to the evolution of modern French painting. _Guérin’s_ Return of Marcus
Sextus, and _Girodet’s_ Burial of Atala, in particular, mark special
phases of transition from the coldly classical to the romantic tendency.
This room, in one word, begins with the =severe=; it ends with the
=melodramatic=.

The room beyond, known as the =Salle Henri II=, is so nearly modern in
tone that the reader may be safely trusted to inspect it on his own
knowledge. _Giraud’s_ Slave-dealer and _Chassériau’s_ Tepidarium are its
most popular pictures. It lies outside the scope of the present
handbook.

The =Salle La Caze=, however, still beyond, contains a collection kept
separately apart by the express desire of the donor, and includes many
works both of earlier schools and of the French 17th and 18th century,
worthy of the greatest attention. It is especially rich in works of the
=rococo= painters, better exemplified here than in the main collection.
Beginning on the L, I will merely enumerate a few of the most important
works. An excellent _Hondekoeter_, skied. A noble portrait by
_Tintoretto_ of a Venetian magnate. A most characteristic _Fragonard_,
full of the morganatic sentiment of the 18th century. Portraits by
_Nattier_, affording more pleasing examples of the early 18th century
style than those we have hitherto examined. Above it, a mediocre
_Tintoretto_ of Susanna at the Bath, not good in colour. Centre of the
hall, =*=_Watteau’s_ Gilles, an excellent embodiment of the innocent
fool of traditional French comedy. =*=_Frans Hals’s_ sly figure of a
Gipsy Woman is a fine piece of vulgar character-painting. A good
_Greuze_, etc. Examine more particularly the works by _Watteau_,
_Fragonard_, and other boudoir painters, whose pictures on this wall
give a more pleasing and fuller idea of the temperament of their school
than that which we obtained in other parts of the collection. R wall
returning—several good _Watteaus_, _Bouchers_, _Greuzes_, etc.
Excellent small Dutch pictures. Fine portrait by _Rembrandt_.
Rembrandt’s Woman at the Bath is a characteristic example of his
strikingly original conception of the nude. _Ribera’s_ Club-footed Boy
is a Spanish pendant to Frans Hals’s Gipsy. This room, containing as it
does very mixed examples of all the schools, should only be visited
after the spectator has obtained some idea of each in other parts of the
collection. Its Dutch works, in particular, are admirable. I do not
enumerate them, as enumeration is useless, but leave it to the reader to
pick out for himself several fine examples.

Now traverse the Galerie d’Apollon, Salon Carré, and Long Gallery till
you arrive at the

                 Hall of Painters of the 19th Century,

(Room VIII in Baedeker’s plan). This hall contains for the most part the
works of artists of the period of Louis Philippe and the early Second
Empire—almost our own contemporaries. I will therefore only briefly
call attention here to the pictures of the =romantic historical school=,
then so prevalent in France, of which _Delaroche’s_ Death of Queen
Elizabeth and Princes in the Tower and _Delacroix’s_ Capture of
Constantinople by the Crusaders are conspicuous examples. _Devéria’s_
popular Birth of Henri IV belongs to the same category. These
“picturesque” treatments of history answer in painting to the malign
influence of Walter Scott and Victor Hugo in literature. Contrasted with
them are such semi-classical works of the school of David, softened and
modernised, as _Ingres’s_ Apotheosis of Homer—the great poet crowned by
Fame, with the Iliad and Odyssey at the base of his pedestal, and
surrounded by a concourse of ancient and modern singers. It is cold but
dignified. _Lethière’s_ Death of Virginia, and _Couture’s_ Romans of the
Decadence, represent to a certain extent a blending of these two main
influences. I will not, however, particularise, as almost every picture
in this room deserves some study from the point of view of the evolution
of contemporary art. I will merely ask the reader not to overlook
_Flandrin’s_ famous nude figure, the typical landscapes by _Rousseau_
and _Millet_, and _David’s_ exquisite portrait of Mme.
Récamier—sufficient in itself to immortalise both artist and sitter.
The electric influence of a beautiful and pure-souled woman has here
galvanised David for once into full perception and reproduction of truth
and nature. Even the severe Empire furniture and background exactly
accord with the character of the picture. Ary Scheffer’s religious
works, in his peculiar twilight style, on a solid blue background, will
strike every observer. _Millet’s_ Gleaners and _Troyon’s_ group of oxen
strike each a new note in art at the period when they were painted. As a
whole this Gallery represents all the various strands of feeling which
have gone to the production of modern painting. It attains to the
threshold of cosmopolitanism in its Arabs, its <DW64>s, and its Algerian
women: it is bloodthirsty and sensuous; it is calm and meditative; it
dashes with Courbet; it refines with Millet; it oscillates between the
world, the flesh, and the devil; it is pious and meretricious; it sums
up in itself the endless contradictory and interlacing tendencies of the
Nineteenth Century. As regards chronological sequence, one may say
pretty fairly that it begins with classicism, passes through
romanticism, and ends for the moment in religious reaction.

Come back often to the pictures in the Louvre, especially the Salle des
Primitifs, the Salon Carré, and the first two bays of the Long Gallery.

             Further Hints on the Paintings in the Louvre.

The reader must not suppose that these brief notes give anything like an
adequate idea of the way in which pictures in such a gallery as the
Louvre ought to be studied. My object in these Guides being mainly to
open a door, that the tourist himself may enter and look about him
carefully, I have given first this connected account of _all_ the rooms
in chronological order, for the use of those whose time is very limited,
and who desire to go through the collection seriatim. But for the
benefit of others who can afford to pay =many successive visits=, I will
now take one or two particular pictures =in detail=, suggesting what
seem to me the best and most fruitful ways in which to study them. Try
for yourself afterwards to fill in a similar scheme, as far as you can,
for most of the finest works in this Gallery.

I will begin with No. 251, in the Salle des Primitifs—Mantegna’s
beautiful and glowing =Madonna della Vittoria=. And I take Mantegna
first, because (among other reasons) he is a painter who can be fairly
well studied by means of the pictures in this Gallery alone, without any
large reference to his remaining works in Italy or elsewhere.

Now, first, who and what was =Mantegna=, and what place does he fill in
the =history of art= in Italy? Well, he was a =Paduan= painter, born in
1431, died in 1506—about the time when Raphael was painting the Belle
Jardinière, in this collection. He was a contemporary and brother-in-law
of Giovanni and Gentile Bellini: and if you compare his work with that
of the two Bellinis, even as very inadequately represented here, you
will see that their art has much in common—that they stood at about the
same level of historical evolution, and painted in the same careful,
precise, and accurate manner of the second half of the fifteenth
century. Contrast them, on the one hand, with their immediate
predecessors, such as Filippo Lippi and Benozzo Gozzoli (juniors by
roughly about 20 years), in order to mark the advance they made on the
art of those who went just before them; and compare them, on the other
hand, with their immediate successors, such as Raphael, and even their
more advanced contemporaries, like Leonardo, in order to see what place
they fill in the development of painting.

Again, Mantegna was a pupil of =Squarcione of Padua=, who practically
founded the Paduan school. Now Squarcione had travelled in Greece and
formed a collection of antiques, from which his pupils made drawings and
studies. Also =Donatello= (the great Florentine sculptor of the early
Renaissance, of whose work you can find some beautiful examples in the
Renaissance Sculpture rooms of this museum) had executed several bronzes
in the church of Sant’ Antonio, the great local saint of Padua; and
these likewise Mantegna studied; so that much of his work bears traces
of the influence of sculpture and especially of bas-relief. He is
particularly fond of introducing reliefs, festoons of fruit or flowers,
and classical detail into the accessories of his pictures: and these
peculiarities are well marked in the Mars and Venus, the Crucifixion,
and the Madonna della Vittoria in this collection. Compare all these
closely with one another till you think you have formed a fair idea of
Mantegna’s powerful drawing, strong realism, love of the antique,
solemnity and dignity, clear-cut style, and perfect mastery of anatomy
and technique. Notice his delicate, careful, conscientious workmanship;
the precision and perfection of his hands and feet; the joy with which
he lingers over classical costume and the painting of armour. Everything
is sharp and defined as in the air of Italy, yet never hard, or crude,
or angular. Observe, also, the sculpture-like folds of his carefully
arranged draperies, and his love for shot colours and melting tints on
metal or marble. The St. Michael in this picture, and the Roman soldiers
in the Crucifixion, are admirable examples of this tone in his
colouring. If you wished to characterise Mantegna in a single phrase,
however, you might fairly say he was the most =sculpturesque= of
painters.

As to date, the =Crucifixion= (in the Salon Carré) which formed one
piece only of the =predella=, or series of small pictures at the base of
the great Madonna in the Church of San Zeno at Verona, is the earliest
example of Mantegna’s work here. It displays the delicate and exquisite
finish of his youthful period: but it is much more mediæval in tone—has
far less freedom and conscious artistic power—than the Madonna della
Vittoria, which belongs to the latest epoch of the great painter’s
development. Observe the early severity of the figures in the
Crucifixion, and the firmness of the drawing: each personage stands out
with statuesque distinctness. But note, too, that at this early stage,
Mantegna’s expression of emotion was still inadequate: in his striving
to be powerful, he overdid the passions, sometimes almost to the verge
of grotesqueness. On the other hand, do not overlook the dramatic force
of the picture, as shewn, for example, in the vivid contrast between the
anguish of the Madonna, with her attendant St. John, &c., and the
callous carelessness of the soldiers casting lots for the Redeemer’s
raiment. The Mars and Venus, once more, of his middle period, represents
an intermediate stage between the two styles. What is meant by a
=predella=, again, you can see by looking at Fra Angelico’s Coronation
of the Virgin, and other similar pictures in this room—the little
figures of St. Dominic and his miracles beneath the main altar-piece
being examples of this adjunct. The Crucifixion formed the central
picture of three such minor episodes: the Agony in the Garden and the
Ascension, to right and left of it, are now in the Museum at Tours.
Napoleon I had carried off the entire work from Verona: at the
Restoration, the Madonna was returned to San Zeno, but the three pieces
of the predella were retained in France and thus distributed. If you go
to Tours or Verona, recollect the connection of the various fragments.

Next, what was the =occasion= for painting this Madonna della Vittoria?
You will remember that in 1494, Charles VIII of France, invited by
Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, invaded North Italy, and conquered a
large part of it, including Florence, Pisa, and Rome itself. Marching
then on Naples, the boy king achieved a further success, which turned
his own head and that of his army. (Read up all this episode in any good
French history.) But Venice, trembling for her supremacy, formed a
league against him; and soon after, all Italy, alarmed at his success,
coalesced to repel the invader. The little Republics united their forces
under Giovanni Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, and met Charles, on
the 6th of July, 1495, at the pass of Fornova, on =the Taro=. The French
king, it is true, forced his way through the hostile army, and made good
his retreat: but the allies, though baffled, claimed the victory, and,
as a matter of fact, Charles immediately concluded a treaty of peace and
returned to Lyons. In commemoration of this event, the Marquis Gonzaga
in gratitude erected a church at Mantua as a votive offering to the
Madonna, and dedicated it under the name of =Santa Maria della
Vittoria=.

At that time and for some years previously Mantegna had been in the
service of the =Gonzaga= family at =Mantua=, where he lived for the
greater part of his artistic life. In the Castello of that town, he
executed several frescoes, illustrating domestic events in the history
of the Gonzagas, which are still among the most interesting objects to
be visited in Mantua. It was natural, therefore, that he should be
invited by Giovanni Francesco Gonzaga to paint the altar-piece for the
high altar of the church to commemorate this victory. The picture must
have been finished about the year 1498 or 1500. It stood in the building
for which it was painted till Napoleon I brought it from Italy to Paris,
where it has ever since remained.

These circumstances sufficiently explain the =collection of saints= who
figure in the picture. In the centre is the =Madonna of Victory=
herself, to whom Gonzaga vowed the church in case he should be
successful. She is enthroned, as usual. The garlands of flowers and
fruit, and the coral over her head, are favourite accessories with
Mantegna: they occur again in the (much earlier) Madonna at San Zeno,
Verona, of which the Crucifixion here formed part of the predella. The
figures of Adam and Eve, in imitation of relief, on the pedestal, are
thoroughly characteristic of Mantegna’s style, and recall the Paduan
school of Squarcione, and the master’s dependence on the work of
Donatello. The overloading of the picture with flowers, festoons and
architectural decoration is also a Paduan feature of the same school: it
comes out equally in the works of Carlo Crivelli—not well seen in this
collection. On his knees in the foreground is _Gonzaga_ himself, with
his villainous Italian Renaissance face, as of a man who would try to
bribe Our Lady with presents. And indeed Our Lady stretches out her
friendly hand towards him, as if to assure him of favour and victory.
Notice that the Marquis wears his armour: he is giving thanks, as it
were, on the field of battle.

As often with Mantegna, the minor characters and saints are fuller of
life than the two central divine personages: his Madonnas have
frequently a tendency to be insipid. On the left of the picture,
flanking the Virgin, stands =St. Michael the Archangel=, the “warrior of
God,” as representing the idea that the Lord of Hosts fought on the side
of the Italian confederacy. This beautiful figure, clad in refulgent
heavenly armour, is one of the noblest and loveliest that Mantegna ever
painted. Compare it with the two St. Michaels by Raphael, the early one
in the Long Gallery: the later in the Salon Carré: note the general
similarity of type, with the divergence in treatment. A little behind,
again, half seen, stands =St. Andrew=, who was both Andrea Mantegna’s
own namesake, and also one of the patrons of Mantua. He has an important
church dedicated in his honour in that town—a Renaissance church, by
Leon Battista Alberti: and in this church of his patron, Mantegna
himself is buried. For the altar-piece of this same church, which he had
doubtless selected beforehand for his own last resting-place, the great
artist also painted a representation of the risen Saviour, with St.
Andrew holding the cross of his martyrdom on one side, and St. Longinus
(of whom more shortly) with his spear on the other. Thus there was every
reason both why St. Andrew should be represented in a picture painted
for the Marquis of Mantua, and why he should more particularly appear in
a work by Andrea Mantegna. As one of the patron saints of town and
painter, he naturally had his share in the thanksgiving for the victory.
His features in this picture and in the one at Mantua are closely
similar. Mantegna, indeed, imitated an older type, which he made his
own, and reproduced like a portrait. Note that St. Andrew bears a cross
as his symbol.

On the other side of the Madonna, =St. Elizabeth= kneels in the
foreground, representing, I think, the patron saint of the Marchesa,
Gonzaga’s wife, who was Isabella d’Este, sister of Duke Alfonso of
Ferrara. (Isabella and Elisabeth are always regarded as variants of the
same name.) Now in the chapel of St. Longinus in the church of St.
Andrea at Mantua, aforesaid, where Mantegna is buried, he also painted a
Madonna, with this same St. Elizabeth, holding the infant St. John
Baptist, while the child Christ blesses him: no doubt a votive offering
from Isabella. Here again we have a type of St. Elizabeth repeated in
this picture. Behind St. Elizabeth stands the exquisitely wistful =St.
George=, the patron saint of the Venetian territory, representing the
part borne by Venice and her dependencies in the war of expulsion: the
patron receives the thanks of his faithful votaries. (Mrs. Jameson
thinks this figure is St. Maurice, another military saint, and patron of
Mantua: comparison with various St. Georges and St. Maurices elsewhere
makes me disagree with her. Besides, St. George’s lance is often broken,
as here: you can note it so in the Raphael of the Long Gallery.) In the
background stands =St. Longinus=, a Roman soldier, distinguishable by
his lance and antique helmet. According to tradition, Longinus was the
centurion who pierced the side of Christ: you see him so in the famous
Rubens (called the Coup de Lance) at Antwerp, and in almost every
mediæval Crucifixion or Calvary. (Look out for him in future.) When he
saw the wonders which accompanied the Passion, we are told in scripture
that he exclaimed, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” Later legend
made him be converted, after being afflicted with sudden blindness, and
undergo a singular voluntary martyrdom. His relics were brought to
Mantua in the 11th century, and he has ever since been the chief patron
saint of that city. Mantegna painted him often, and sometimes made a
type of him. In the picture already described in the chapel of St.
Longinus, he answers, as here, to St. Andrew, and wears a classical
costume, on which the painter has lavished his usual care and minute
accuracy of drawing. Notice him also in the foreground of Mantegna’s
Crucifixion in the Salon Carré, bearing his spear—where, however, the
type is not followed as usual. Thus not one of the characters grouped
around the Madonna in this exquisite picture is without its full
relevancy and meaning.

Do not overlook in this military votive offering the preponderance of
soldier saints, and their appearance under arms, to commemorate the
victory.

Observe also the way in which St. George and St. Michael hold the
=Madonna’s mantle=, so as to enclose or embrace Gonzaga and his wife’s
patroness, St. Elizabeth. This is a symbol of the Madonna’s protection:
in what is called a Madonna della Misericordia Our Lady’s robe thus
shelters numerous votaries. So, at Cluny, you will find a sculptured St.
Ursula (in Room VI) sheltering under her mantle as many of the 11,000
Virgins as the sculptor could manage—as she also does in the Memling at
Bruges.

On the =æsthetic side=, note once more the marked distinction which
Mantegna draws between the historical portrait of the kneeling
Gonzaga—a most ruthless ruffian—and the ideal figures of saints by
whom he is surrounded. Remark, again, the angelic sweetness of the
round-faced St. Michael, contrasted with the purely human look of
longing and strife, and the guarded purity in the countenance of the St.
George—who almost foreshadows Burne-Jones and Rossetti. Observe, too,
how this romantic saint serves as a foil to the practical Roman
Longinus, with his honest and sober face, and his soldierly sense of
duty. Study the melting tones of colour throughout, and contrast the
simple devotional calm of this religious work with the rapidity and
movement of the mundane Mars and Venus beside it. Do not overlook a
single detail; every hand and foot, every surface of metal, every fruit
and flower is worthy of attention.

As always, I have only tried here to =explain= this picture, not to make
you =admire= it. But the longer you look at it the more you will be
charmed by its wonderful colour, its poetic grace, and the exquisite
beauty of its drawing and composition.

Now, still in the same connection, go on into the Long Gallery, and
look, near Andrea del Sarto’s Holy Family, at a mannered and theatrical
picture of the =Nativity= by =Giulio Romano=. This is not a Nativity
simple, but one with selected saints looking on: it was painted for the
altar-piece of the altar of the Chapel of St. Longinus in Sant’ Andrea
at Mantua—the same in which Mantegna had earlier painted the Longinus
pictures noted above. The central portion of this altar-piece consists
of a tolerably conventional Nativity, with the adoring shepherds,
Raphaelized by Giulio Romano (who was Raphael’s favourite pupil) in
accordance with the ideas of the early 16th cent. (It is interesting to
note, by the way, the nature of these modifications.) In the background
is the herald angel appearing to the shepherds: this scene, prior in
time to the other, was often so represented in the same picture or
carving: look out for it elsewhere, and also for such
non-contemporaneous episodes in general. But the attendant saints, to
right and left, looking on at the sacred scene, are St. John the
Evangelist (known by his chalice and serpent) and =St. Longinus=. The
last-named holds in his hands a crystal vase—a pyx or reliquary,
containing the sacred blood of Christ, which Longinus caught as it fell,
and which was brought with the rest of the relics to =Mantua=, and
preserved in the very chapel for which this picture was intended.
Compare this dull Longinus with the two by Mantegna in this collection:
and when you visit Mantua, remember that these pictures came from these
two churches. By thus interweaving your facts, you will get a far
clearer conception in the end of =the connection of art= than you can
possibly do if you regard the various works in pure isolation.

But what was =Giulio Romano= doing at Mantua? After Raphael’s death, his
pupils were dispersed; and this his favourite follower settled down in
the service of Duke Federigo Gonzaga (the first Duke—the earlier lords
were Marquises), for whom he decorated the Palazzo del Tè, with its
grotesque Titans. =Primaticcio= and =Niccolo dell’ Abbate=, pupils again
of Giulio’s, were educated at Mantua, and afterwards summoned by
François I^{er} to France, where they became the founders of the =School
of Fontainebleau=. They thus passed on the Raphaelesque traditions into
the French capital. It is partly for this reason that I have selected
for my first examples this particular Mantuan group of paintings, in
order that you may realise the close interaction of French and Italian
politics, and the continuity of the Italian with the French Renaissance.

It is worth while, too, to enquire =how= the different pictures =came
into this collection=. The Madonna della Vittoria, we saw, was brought
as a trophy of war from Italy by Napoleon. The Giulio Romano, after
hanging for some time in the chapel at Mantua, for which it was painted,
was shortly annexed by the Duke of Mantua, who sold it to Charles I of
England. That king formed a noble collection of Italian and Flemish
works, which, after his execution, was sold by the Commonwealth for a
very small price to a dealer named Jabach, who in his turn disposed of
most of the pictures to Louis XIV; they formed the nucleus of the Louvre
collection. Look out for these works of which Puritan England thus
deprived herself, and see how considerable a portion they form of the
earlier treasures of this Gallery.

Lastly, return once more to the Mantegnas in the Salle des Primitifs,
and notice that the so-called Parnassus—that is to say, the Mars and
Venus discovered by Vulcan—as well as the Vices conquered by Wisdom,
and the companion pieces by Perugino and Costa, were all painted for
=Isabella d’Este-Gonzaga=, to decorate her boudoir at Mantua. Of these
works, I think Mantegna’s are the oldest, and struck the keynote for
figures and treatment. For after Mantegna’s death, the Ferrarese
painter, Costa, was invited from Isabella’s home to become court-painter
at Mantua: and the Perugino is one in that master’s latest manner, most
tinged with the Renaissance. Giulio Romano, again, succeeded Costa. If
you will now compare Mantegna’s two works in this series with his others
in this Gallery, you will be able to form a clearer conception of his
admirable fancy, his unvarying grace, and his perfect mastery of
execution: while if you contrast them with those by the two contemporary
artists—the Umbrian Perugino and the Ferrarese Costa—you will be
enabled to observe what was the common note of these early Renaissance
masters, and what their distinctive individual characteristics. In
particular, you may notice in these works, when looked at side by side
with those of earlier painters, the enormous advance Mantegna had made
in anatomy and in perspective. He is the =scientific painter= of Upper
Italy, as Leonardo is the scientific painter of Florence.

These four pictures again made their way to the Louvre by a different
route. They were captured at the sack of Mantua in 1630, and originally
came to France to decorate the _château_ of Cardinal Richelieu.

Once more, =Duke Alfonso d’Este=, Isabella’s brother, is the person whom
you see in the portrait by Titian in the Salon Carré, together with his
mistress Laura Dianti, painted about 1520. Familiarity with such facts
alone can give you any adequate idea of the extraordinary rapidity in
the development of art and the modernization of Italy in the 16th
century.

                 *        *        *        *        *

For my next example I will take a quite obscure and unnoticed picture,
also in the Salle des Primitifs, =Giovanni Massone’s altar-piece= in
three compartments, number 261.

Savona is an unimportant little town between Nice and Genoa, chiefly
noteworthy at the present day as the junction for a branch line to
Turin. But in the 15th and 16th centuries it was a flourishing place,
which gave employment to many distinguished Piedmontese and Lombard
artists, the most famous of whom were Foppa and Brea. It also gave birth
to two famous popes, Sixtus IV and Julius II, the latter of whom is
familiar to most of us from the magnificent portrait by Raphael, three
replicas of which exist, in the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace in Florence,
and in the National Gallery in London. Sixtus IV erected for himself a
superb sepulchral chapel in his native town of Savona: go and see it, if
you pass by there, as well as the modern statue of the pope erected by
his fellow-citizens. From that chapel this picture, by an otherwise
unknown artist, has been abstracted and brought here. We know its author
merely by the signature he has placed on a _cartellino_ or strip of
paper in the picture itself: Joh[ann]es Mazonus de Alex[andri]a
pinxit—shewing that he was born in the Piedmontese town of Alessandria.
For the rest, he is a mere name to us.

The picture itself, by no means a masterpiece, has in its centre the
Nativity, designed in the usual conventional fashion, and in a somewhat
antiquated Lombard style. The Madonna and St. Joseph have very solid
haloes: the action takes place in a ruined temple, as often, symbolising
the triumph of Christianity over heathendom. In the background are a
landscape, and some pleasing accessories. But the lateral subjects give
it greater interest. In the compartment to the L stands St. Francis of
Assisi, in his usual brown Franciscan robe, as protector of Sixtus IV,
who kneels beside him. Notice this way of marking the name of a donor,
for the pope was Cardinal Francesco della Rovere. Observe too the
stigmata, as far as visible, and compare this much later figure of St.
Francis with those in the picture by Giotto and its two imitators. On
the R stands a second Franciscan saint, also in the coarse brown garb of
his order—the same in whose church Andrea Mantegna studied Donatello,
and whom we have seen more than once during our Parisian excursions
holding in his arms the infant Christ—St. Antony of Padua. He lays his
hand on the shoulder of a second votary—the Cardinal della Rovere,
afterwards the stern and formidable pope, Julius II. If you know the
National Gallery and the Vatican, see whether you can recognise an
earlier stage of the same features which occur in the famous portrait,
and also in the figure of the pope, borne on the shoulders of his
stalwart attendants into the temple at Jerusalem, in a corner of the
famous fresco of the Expulsion of Heliodorus.

Recollect, again, that it was for the tomb of this same Pope Julius II
that Michael Angelo produced the two so-called Fettered Slaves, which
you have seen or will see in the Renaissance Sculpture Room of this
collection. Weave your knowledge together in this way, till it forms a
connected whole, which enables you far better to understand and
appreciate.

I call your special attention to this picture, among other things, for
its historical rather than its artistic value. But I want you also to
realise that the man who was painted in this rude and antiquated style
in his middle age was painted again in his declining years by Raphael at
the summit of his powers, and was a patron of the mighty Michael Angelo
at the zenith of his development. This will help to impress upon you
better than anything else the necessity for carefully =noting
chronology=, and will also supply a needed caution that you must not
regard any work as necessarily early on no better ground than because it
is comparatively archaic in style and treatment.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Next inspect the two little companion pictures of =St. George and St.
Michael= by =Raphael=, on the R wall of the First Compartment in the
Long Gallery. These two small works are rare examples of Raphael’s very
earliest pre-Peruginesque manner. Morelli has shewn that the great
painter was first of all a pupil of Timoteo Viti at Urbino, his native
town. If you have not visited Bologna and Milan, however, this will tell
you little; for nowhere else can you see Timoteo to any great advantage;
and I may observe here that the best time to visit the Louvre is _after_
you have been in Italy, where you ought to have formed a clear
conception of the various masters and their relations to one another.
But you can see at least, on the face of them, that these two simple and
graceful little works are quite different in style and manner even from
the _Belle Jardinière_, and certainly very unlike the much later St.
Margaret which hangs close by them. They are still comparatively
mediæval in tone: they have a definiteness and clearness of outline
which contrasts strongly with the softer melting tones of Raphael’s
later work: they show as yet no tinge of the affected prettinesses which
he learned from Perugino—still less of his later Florentine and Roman
manners. They are painted on the back of a chess or draught board, and
were produced for Duke Guidobaldo of Urbino about the year 1500.

Look first at the =St. George=. The subject here is the Combat with the
Dragon; and Raphael, in representing it, has strictly followed the
conventional arrangement of earlier painters. No earlier picture for
comparison with his treatment exists in this Gallery, though there are
plenty elsewhere: but if you will look downstairs at the majolica relief
of the same subject in the Della Robbia Room of the Renaissance
Sculpture Gallery, you will see how closely Raphael’s work corresponds
with earlier representations of the same pretty myth. As you will now
have learned, there is always a regular way to envisage every stock
subject: whoever produced a Combat of St. George with the Dragon was
compelled by custom and the expectations of his patron to include these
various elements—a St. George in armour, on horseback, the horse
usually white, as here: a wounded dragon, most often to the right: the
Princess running away in terror in the distance, or at least crouching
abjectly. There is a Tintoretto of this subject, indeed, in the National
Gallery, where some critics have blamed the great Venetian painter for
making the Princess look away in terror, instead of turning with
gratitude to thank her brave preserver. But the conventional
representation _demanded_ that the Princess should flee or cower: people
were accustomed to that treatment of the theme, and expected always to
see it repeated. It was their notion of a St. George. We must set down a
great deal in early art to this sense of expectation on the part of
patrons. Tintoretto, who came much later than Raphael, after the mighty
Renaissance painters had accustomed the world to put up with, or even to
look for, novelty of composition, often ventured very largely to depart
from traditional motives. In his picture, therefore, the Princess
occupies the foreground—a most revolutionary proceeding—while the
action itself is relegated somewhat to the middle distance. But if you
compare the three representations of this scene to be found in the
Louvre—this picture and the two reliefs by Della Robbia and Michel
Colombe respectively—you will see that the Princess in earlier times is
always represented quite small in the distance, and is usually running
away, or at best kneeling with clasped hands in abject terror.

In the Raphael, the dragon is already wounded: but he has broken the
saint’s lance, with part of which he is transfixed, while the remainder
lies in fragments on the ground behind him. St. George on his prancing
steed is drawing his sword to finish off the monster. In the Michel
Colombe, on the other hand (downstairs in the French Renaissance
Sculpture), the dragon is biting at the lance, which explains why it is
broken here, and also why the St. George in Mantegna’s Madonna holds a
broken shaft as his emblem or symbol. Observe, however, that while the
French sculptor, with questionable taste, makes the dragon occupy the
larger part of the field, so as somewhat to dwarf St. George and his
steed, the Italian sculptor, and still more the Italian painter, have
shewn greater tact in treating the dragon as a comparative accessory,
and concentrating attention upon the militant saint, combating with
spiritual arms the evil demon. In this picture, as Mrs. Jameson well
observes, the conception is on the whole serenely allegorical and
religious in spirit. But Raphael himself painted a second St. George, at
a later date, for the Duke of Urbino to present to Henry VII of England.
In this other picture, which is now in the Hermitage at St. Petersburg,
St. George is treated rather as the patron saint of England than as the
Champion of Right—to mark which fact he wears the Order of the Garter
round his knee, with its familiar motto. As Champion of England, he is
rushing on the monster with fiery energy: the picture is in this case
more military than spiritual. The moment chosen is the one where he is
just transfixing the dragon with his lance: the rescued Princess is here
again in the background.

Note once more that these various works are pictures of the =combat= of
St. George with the Dragon. In =devotional pictures= of the Madonna, St.
George frequently stands by Our Lady’s side, in accordance with the
wishes of the particular donor, as patron saint of that person himself,
or of his town or family. In Venetian pictures, as we have seen, he is
very frequent, being one of the patron saints of Venice, and more
particularly of the Venetian army and the conquered territory. You will
find it interesting, after you have finished the examination of the two
Raphaels, to go round the devotional Italian pictures in the Salle des
Primitifs, the Long Gallery, and the Salon Carré, in order to note his
various appearances. He is usually marked by his lance and his armour:
the absence of wings (a point not always noticed by beginners) will
enable you at once to discriminate him from St. Michael—as man from
angel. The more you learn to look out for such recurrences of saints,
and to account for the reasons for their appearance, the more will you
understand and enjoy picture galleries, and the more will you throw
yourself into the devotional mediæval atmosphere which produced such
pictures.

Now turn to the second little Raphael. This represents the closely
cognate subject of =St. Michael and the Dragon=—the angelic as opposed
to the human counterpart. The two ideas are at bottom identical—the
power of good overcoming evil; the true faith combating heathendom. It
is a world-wide myth, occurring in many forms—as Horus and Typhon, as
Perseus, as Bellerophon. Hence Michael and George, the superhuman and
the human soldier of right, often balance one another, as in these two
pictures: you have seen them doing so already in the Madonna della
Vittoria: look out for them elsewhere in this conjunction. Both are
knights; both are in armour; but one is a man and the other an angel. In
this second little picture, St. Michael is seen, clad in his usual
gorgeous mail, treading on the neck of the dragon and menacing it with
his sword. The dark and lurid landscape in the background contains many
fearful forms of uncertain monsters: condemned souls are plagued in it
by demons, while a flaming town flares murkily towards heaven in the far
distance, the details being taken, as in many such works, from Dante’s
Inferno. Or rather, they and the Inferno represent the same old
traditional view of Hades. (The figures weighed down with leaden cowls
are the hypocrites, while the thieves are tormented by a plague of
serpents.) Close comparison of these two little works will give you a
good idea of Raphael’s earliest Urbino manner. This fantastic picture,
however, though full of imagination, is by no means so pleasing as the
dainty St. George beside it.

Go straight from this combat to the =Great St. Michael=, also by
Raphael, in the Salon Carré. It bears date 1518. Pope Leo X commissioned
Raphael to paint this picture as a present for François I^{er}: the
painter—to whom he left the choice of subject—chose St. Michael, the
military patron of France, and of the Order of which the king was Grand
Master. (You will find a bronze bust of François, wearing the collar and
pendant of St. Michael, in the Renaissance Sculpture.) He chose it also,
no doubt, because it enabled him to show his increased mastery over life
and action. This great and noble picture, one of the finest as regards
dramatic rapidity ever painted by Raphael, is celebrated for the
instantaneous effect of its movement. (Compare the demoniac boy in the
Transfiguration at the Vatican.) The warrior archangel has just swooped
down through the air, and, hovering on poised wings, is caught in the
very act of setting one foot lightly on the demon’s shoulder. The
dragon, writhing, tries in vain to lift his head and turn on his
conqueror. The noble serenity of the archangel’s face, the perfect grace
of his form and attitude, the brilliant panoply of his celestial armour,
the sheen of his wings, the light tresses of his hair floating outward
behind him (as of one who has traversed space on wings of lightning)
cannot fail to be remarked by every spectator. This is Raphael in the
fulness of his knowledge and power, yet far less interesting to the
lover of sacred art than the boy Raphael of Urbino, the dreamy Raphael
of the Sposalizio at Milan, the tender Raphael of the Gran Duca at
Florence, or of the Belle Jardinière in this same apartment. Notice that
with the progress of Renaissance feeling the demon is now no longer a
dragon but a half-human figure, with horns and serpent tail, and swarthy
red in colour. He is so foreshortened as not to take up any large space
in the composition, which is mainly filled by the victorious figure of
the triumphant archangel. The more classical armour bespeaks the High
Renaissance. The longer you compare these two extreme phases of
Raphael’s art, the more will you note points of advance between
them—technical advance, counterbalanced by moral and spiritual
retrogression.

End by comparing this St. Michael with Mantegna’s, and with the playful
Leonardesque archangel in the _Vierge aux balances_, the last point in
the degeneracy of a celestial conception.

Raphael is one of the painters who can best be studied at the Louvre,
with comparatively little need for aid from elsewhere.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Pay a special visit to the Louvre one day in order to make a =detailed
study of Madonnas=. Before doing so, however, read and digest the
following general statement of principles on the subject.

    [People who have not thrown themselves, or thought themselves,
    or read themselves into the mental attitude of early art, often
    complain that Italian picture galleries, and museums like Cluny,
    are too full of merely sacred subjects. But when once you have
    learnt to understand and appreciate them, to know the meaning
    which lurks in every part, you will no longer make this
    causeless complaint. As well object to Greek art that it
    represents little save the personages of Greek mythology. As a
    matter of fact, though the Louvre contains a fair number of
    Madonnas, it does not embrace a sufficient number to give a
    perfectly clear conception of the varieties of type and the
    development of the subject—not so good a series in many
    respects as the National Gallery, though it is particularly well
    adapted for the study of certain special groups, particularly
    the Leonardesque-Lombard development.

    The simplest type of Madonna is that where =Our Lady= appears
    =alone= with the Divine Infant. This modification of the subject
    most often occurs as a half-length, though sometimes the Blessed
    Virgin is so represented in full length, enthroned, or under a
    canopy. Several such simple Madonnas occur in the Gallery. In
    the earliest examples here, however, such as Cimabue’s, and the
    cognate altar-piece of the School of Giotto, the Madonna is seen
    surrounded by angelic supporters. This forms a second
    group—=Our Lady with Angels=. Very early examples of this
    treatment show the angels in complete isolation, as a sort of
    framework. (See several parallels in sculpture in Room VI,
    ground floor, at Cluny.) Grouping as yet is non-existent. No
    specimen of this very original type is to be found in the
    Louvre; but in the Cimabue of this Gallery the angels are
    superimposed, so to speak, while in the Giottesque example close
    by an elementary attempt is made at grouping them. In later
    works, the angels are more and more naturally represented, from
    age to age, singly or in pairs, or else grouped irregularly on
    either side of Our Lady. You will note for yourself that as the
    Renaissance developes, the nature of the grouping, both of
    angels and saints, deviates more and more from the early strict
    architectural symmetry.

    A slight variant on the simple pictures of the Madonna and Child
    are those, of Florentine origin, in which the =infant St.= =John
    Baptist=, the patron Saint of the City of Florence, is
    introduced at play with the childish Saviour. This class—the
    =Madonna and Child, with St. John=—is well represented in the
    _Belle Jardinière_, and several other pictures in the Louvre.

    Most often, however, the Madonna is seen enthroned, in the
    centre of the altar-piece or composition, and surrounded by one,
    two, or three pairs of saintly personages. The =Madonna with
    Saints= thus forms a separate group of subjects. These saints,
    you will by this time have gathered, are _never_ arbitrarily
    introduced. They were selected and commissioned, as a rule, by
    the purchaser, and they are there for a good and sufficient
    reason. Often the donor desired to pay his devotion in this
    fashion to his own personal patron; often to the patron of his
    town or village, of the church in which the picture was to be
    deposited, or of his family or relations. Frequently, again, the
    picture was a =votive offering=, as against plague or other
    dreaded calamity: in which case it is apt to contain figures of
    the great plague saints, Roch and Sebastian. Ignorant people
    often object that such sets of saints are not contemporary. They
    forget that this is the Enthroned Madonna, and that the action
    takes place in the Celestial City, where the saints surround the
    throne of Our Lady.

    As regards =grouping=, in the earlier altar-pieces the selected
    saints were treated in complete isolation. Most often the
    Madonna and Child occupy in such cases a central panel, under
    its own canopy; while the saints are each enclosed in a separate
    little alcove or gilded tabernacle. Reminiscences of this usage
    linger long in Italy. Later on, as art progressed, painters
    began to feel the stiffness of such an arrangement: they placed
    the attendant saints at first in regularly disposed pairs on
    either side the throne, and afterwards in something approaching
    a set =composition=. With the High Renaissance, the various
    figures, instead of occupying mere posts round the seat of Our
    Lady, and gazing at her in adoration, began to indulge in
    conversation with one another, or to take part in some more or
    less animated and natural action. This method of arrangement,
    which culminates for the Florentine school in Fra Bartolommeo,
    degenerates with the Decadence into confused and muddled groups,
    with scarcely a trace of symbols—groups of well-draped models,
    in which it is impossible to see any sacred significance. The
    =Florentine= painters preferred, as a rule, such rather complex
    grouping: the =Venetians=, influenced in great part by the
    severer taste of Giorgione and of Titian, usually show a more
    simple arrangement.

    Any one of these various types of Madonna may also be modified
    by the introduction of a =kneeling donor=. Thus, Van Eyck’s
    glowing picture of the Chancellor Rollin adoring Our Lady is an
    example of the simple Madonna and Child, enthroned, accompanied
    by the donor; though in this case, the composition is further
    slightly enriched by the dainty little floating angel in the
    background, who places an exquisitely jewelled crown of the
    finest Flemish workmanship on the head of the Virgin. The
    Madonna della Vittoria, again, which we have so fully
    considered, is essentially a Madonna and Saints, with the
    kneeling donor. In very early pictures, you will observe that
    the donors are often painted grotesquely small, while Our Lady
    and the Saints are of relatively superhuman stature, to mark
    their superiority as heavenly personages. In later works, this
    absurdity dies out, and the figure and face of the donor become
    one of the recognised excuses for early portrait painting.
    Indeed, portraiture took its rise for the modern world from such
    kneeling figures.

    Another point of view from which it is interesting to compare
    these various Madonnas is that of the =Nationality= or =School
    of Art= to which they belong. The =early Italian=
    representations of Our Lady are usually more or less girlish in
    appearance, refined in features, and comparatively simple in
    dress and decoration. The Flemish type is peculiarly insipid,
    one might often say, even with great artists, inane and
    meaningless; in the hands of minor painters, it becomes
    positively wooden. The face here is long and rather thin; the
    features peaky. The Madonna of Flemish art, indeed, like the
    Christ of all art, is a sacred type which is seldom varied.
    =Early French= Madonnas, once more, are regal and ladylike,
    sometimes even courtly. They wear crowns as queens, and are
    better observed in the Louvre in sculpture than in painting.
    This Gallery hardly suffices to note in full the peculiarities
    of the =sub-types= in various =Italian schools=; but they may
    still be recognised. Of these, the =Florentine= are spiritual,
    delicate, and strongly ideal; the =Lombard=, intellectual, like
    well-read ladies; the =Venetian=, stately and matronly
    oligarchical mothers, degenerating later into the mere
    aristocratic nobility, soulless and materialised, of Titian and
    his followers. The =Umbrians= and =Sienese= are distinguished
    for the most part by their pure and saintly air of fervent
    piety.

    Do not confound with any of these =devotional Madonnas=, with or
    without select groups of saints, various other classes of
    picture which somewhat resemble them. Each of these has in early
    art its own proper convention and treatment: it was a recognised
    species. A =Holy Family=, for example, consists, as a rule, of a
    Madonna, the Infant Christ, St. Joseph, St. Elizabeth, and the
    child Baptist. Like the other subjects, it is sometimes
    complicated by the addition of selected Saints as spectators or
    assessors. A =Coronation of the Virgin=, again, is an entirely
    celestial scene, taking place in the calm of the heavenly
    regions. The Madonna is usually crowned by her Son, but
    sometimes by angels or by the Eternal Father. (Several
    interesting examples of this, for comparison, occur in Room VI,
    ground floor, at Cluny.) =Nativities=, of course, belong rather
    to the group of pictorial histories, such as the Life of Christ,
    or the Seven Joys of Mary. The sculptures in the ambulatory at
    Notre-Dame give one a good idea of such continuous histories.

    One interesting set of Madonnas, largely exemplified here, to
    take a particular example, is the later Lombard type of the
    =School of Leonardo=. This type, well distinguished by its
    regular oval features, its gentle smile of inner happiness, and
    its peculiar waving hair with wisps over the shoulders, is
    usually regarded as essentially belonging to Leonardo himself
    and his immediate followers. It is foreshadowed, however, by
    Foppa, Borgognone, and other early Lombard painters, specimens
    of whom are not numerous in the Louvre. Leonardo, when he came
    to Milan to Ludovico Sforza, adopted this local type, which he
    transfused with Florentine grace and with his own peculiar
    subdued smile, as one sees it already in the Mona Lisa. From
    Leonardo, again, it was taken, with more or less success, by his
    immediate pupils, Beltraffio, Solario, Cesare di Sesto, and
    others, as well as by Luini, who was not a pupil of Leonardo
    himself, but who was deeply influenced by the master’s methods
    and his works in Milan. The number of these Leonardesque
    Madonnas in the Louvre is exceptionally great, while Leonardo
    himself can here be better estimated than in Italy. Nowhere else
    perhaps, save possibly at Milan, can this type as a whole be
    compared by the student to so great advantage.

    While the Madonna herself usually occupies the central panel of
    votive pictures, it sometimes happens that some =other saint=
    is, on his own altar-piece, similarly enthroned; and in that
    case he is flanked by brother saints, often more important in
    themselves, but then and there subordinated to him. This special
    honour under special circumstances is well seen in the case of
    the St. Lawrence at the far end of the Salle des Primitifs.
    Particular local saints often thus receive what might otherwise
    appear undue recognition. For the same reason, minor saints in
    the group surrounding a Madonna often obtain local brevet-rank
    (if I may be allowed the simile) over others of far greater
    general dignity, which they could not lay claim to in any other
    connection. Thus, in the Nativity by Giulio Romano, to which I
    called attention in connection with Mantegna’s Madonna, St.
    Longinus (with his crystal vase) stood on Our Lady’s R, while
    St. John was relegated to her L—a subordination of the greater
    to the lesser saint which would only be possible in a chapel
    actually dedicated to St. Longinus, and where he receives
    peculiar honour. I now propose to escort you round a few rooms
    of the Louvre, again calling attention very briefly, from this
    point of view, to certain special Madonna features only.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Now, go to the Louvre and test these remarks. Begin at the far end of
the Salle des Primitifs. The Cimabue and the Giottesque of the Madonna
and Angels we have already considered. Compare them again from our
present standpoint. Close to them on the R, beneath the large Giotto of
St. Francis, are two pretty little Madonnas, 1620 (I now give the large
upper numbers alone) and 1667. The first of these exhibits below two
tiny votaries—the small-sized donors—a Franciscan monk and a Dominican
nun, with the robes of their orders; the centre consists of St. Paul and
St. Catherine, as the attendant saints on the large Enthroned Virgin.
The second has the choir of angels, both surrounding and beneath the
throne, with St. Peter (keys), St. Paul (sword), St. John Baptist
(camel-hair) and St. Stephen or St. Vincent (robed as deacon). St. Peter
and St. Paul in 1625 are similar figures, once surrounding a central
panel, with the Madonna now missing. Compare with this 1666, with its
Enthroned Madonna of the early almond-eyed type, its group of angels
round the throne, and its two saints at the base, John Baptist and
Peter. Observe that the types of these also can be recognised. Each
saint has regular features of his own, which you can learn to know quite
as well as the symbols.

Higher up, 1664, another Madonna and Child, Enthroned, with similar
angels, but with the addition of the figure of St Catherine of
Alexandria, on whose finger the Christ is placing a ring. This is an
early intermediate type of the Marriage of St. Catherine, hardly yet
characterized. Most of these Madonnas have the characteristic softness
and peculiar cast of countenance of the early School of Siena.

1279, Gentile da Fabriano, is almost a simple Madonna and Child, but for
the addition of the smaller donor, Pandolfo Malatesta, Lord of Rimini.
This picture shows the bland and round-faced Umbrian type which is
closely allied to that of Siena. Both Schools are remarkable for the
fervent pietism which blossomed out in full in St. Francis of Assisi and
St. Catherine of Siena.

In the beautiful Perugino above, 1564, note the complete transformation
in the later Umbrian school of the adoring angels into a graceful pair,
and the beginning of an attempt to group in comparatively natural
attitudes the accompanying saints, Rose and Catherine.

This feature is still more marked in 1565, also Perugino, (but later)
where the Baptist and St. Catherine, well composed, are thrown into the
background behind the Madonna. Observe that while earlier piety drapes
the Child, in Gentile and still more in Perugino, the growing love for
the nude begins to exhibit itself. A study of haloes is also
interesting.

On the opposite or R side, 1315 is a good example of the simple
Enthroned Madonna of the School of Giotto. Compare it with that next it,
1316, where the angels are grouped with some attempt at composition.

1397, by Neri di Bicci, is also a characteristic half-length simple
Madonna, with the Child still draped after the earlier fashion affected
by this belated follower of Giottesque models.

1345, beneath it, by Filippo Lippi or his school, shows a characteristic
type of features which this painter introduced,—a modification of the
older Florentine ideal: the face is said to be that of his model
Lucrezia Buti, the nun with whom he eloped and whom he was finally
permitted to marry. The angels in the background show well the rapid
advance in the treatment of these accessories. Observe, as you pass,
their Florentine lilies. Their features are like those of the Medici
children, as seen in numerous works at Florence.

In 1295, by Botticelli, we get that individual painter’s peculiar
mystical and somewhat languid type, while the angels are again like
Medici portraits. Study these Botticellis for his artistic personality.

1344, by Filippo Lippi, next to it, exhibits Filippo’s very rounded
faces, both in Madonna and angels. The type is more human. Here, again,
we have the Florentine lily borne by the adoring choir, whose position
should be compared as a faint lingering reminiscence of that in the
Giottesques and the great Cimabue. Observe, at the same time, the
division of the painting as a whole into three false compartments, a
suggestion from the earlier type of altar-piece. At the Madonna’s feet
are two adoring saints, difficult to identify—Florentine and local,
probably. Do not fail to gaze close at the characteristic baby cherubs,
perhaps Lucrezia’s. This picture should be compared in all its details
with earlier pictures of angel choirs. It is a lovely work. Its delicate
painting is strongly characteristic. The relief of the faces should be
specially noted.

The Botticelli next it, 1296, introduces us to the infant St. John of
Florence whom we meet again in the _Belle Jardinière_ of Raphael’s
Florentine period. Another young St. John close by is full of
suggestions of Donatello in the Sculpture Gallery.

493, above the last but one, is a very characteristic Madonna of the
Florentine school, closely resembling the type of Botticelli. This once
more is a simple Madonna and Child, without accessories.

In 1662, the sanctity has almost disappeared and we get scarcely more
than a purely human mother and baby.

On the opposite side, 4573, is a half-length by Perugino, the affected
pose of whose neck and the character of whose face you will now
recognise; the Madonna floats in an almond-shaped glory of cherubs,
which indicates her ascent to heaven. Several similar subjects exist in
sculpture at Cluny.

1540, Lo Spagna, is again a simple half-length Madonna, whose purely
Umbrian type recalls both Perugino and the earlier examples. Compare the
Peruginos, Raphaels, and Lo Spagnas here, and form from them some
conception of the Umbrian ideal.

Of the Bellini beside it I have already spoken sufficiently. Observe,
here, the absolute nudity of the Child, and the reduction of the angels
to sweet little cherub heads among clouds in the background. The
graceful arrangement of the attendant saints strikes a Bellini keynote:
it was followed in later developments of this subject by Venetian
painters. Such half-lengths are common among the School of Bellini.

The treatment by Cima, 1259, introducing landscape, and the peculiarly
high Venetian throne, is one of a sort also very frequent for
full-length Madonnas at Venice and in the Venetian territory. The
grouping of the saints, also, is here transitional. Compare it with the
exquisite Lorenzo di Credi opposite.

On the opposite wall, 1367, by Mainardi, shows us a Florentine face, the
St. John of Florence, and the typical sweet-faced Florentine angels,
holding lilies; in the background, a view of the city.

Cosimo Rosseli’s, 1482, has again the almond-shaped glory of cherubs,
the nude Child, the typical Florentine face (which you may now
recognise) and also characteristic Florentine angels; but its St.
Bernard and the Magdalen are introduced on clouds after a somewhat novel
fashion. The St. Bernard is writing down his vision of the Madonna.

I have already called attention to the beautiful grouping in 1263 by
Lorenzo di Credi; but observe now that the exquisite attendant saints,
almost statuesque in their clear-cut isolation, still show a
reminiscence of the earlier arrangement in tabernacles by the
Renaissance archways at their back, combined with the niche in which the
Madonna is enthroned. Only by the light of Giottesque examples can we
understand the composition of this glorious picture. We do not know the
circumstances under which it was produced: but St. Julian was the patron
saint of Rimini, as St. Nicolas was of Bari. Both these towns were great
Adriatic ports: and I believe it was painted for a merchant of the
neighbourhood.

Do not be content in any of these cases with observing merely the points
to which I call definite attention; try to compare each work throughout
in all its details with others like it. The evolution of the grouping,
in fact, will give you endless hints as to the history and development
of the art of composition. This picture of Lorenzo’s may be regarded as
exemplifying the finest stage in such works: those of later date are
less pure and severe—show a tendency to confusion.

This will be quite enough to occupy you for one day. Another morning,
proceed into the Long Gallery, where you can similarly compare the High
Renaissance types and the Leonardesque Madonnas of the later School of
Lombardy.

In the little Madonna of the School of Francia, 1437, observe the
position of the attendant saint, the new type of face proper to the art
of Bologna, and the way in which, as often, the infant Christ is poised
on a parapet.

1553, by Garofalo, shows a later and softer development of a somewhat
similar (Ferrarese) type; but the Child, instead of blessing with his
two fingers as in most early cases, here displays the growing
Renaissance love of variety and novelty: he is asleep in his cradle.
Observe his attitude in this and other instances. With all these
changes, however, you cannot fail to be struck by the fairly constant
persistence of the red tunic and the blue mantle of the Madonna, as well
as by the nature of her head-dress in each great School. Never fail to
observe the characteristic head-dresses in the various Schools of
Italian art. They will help you, like the faces, to form types for
comparison.

1353, by Luini, introduces us at once to the Lombard-Leonardesque class
of face and hair. Compare it closely with the Madonnas in the frescoes
in the Salle Duchâtel. The introduction of Joseph makes this in essence
a Holy Family. Note Luini’s development of the halo of Christ, cruciform
in early cases, or composed of a cross inscribed in a circle, into a
cross-like arrangement of rays of light.

The two works by Marco da Oggiono, close by, betray similar types, far
inferior to Luini’s, with further loss of primitive reverence.

In 1181, Borgognone’s Presentation, an earlier Lombard work, the Madonna
faintly foreshadows this Leonardesque type, though the Leonardesque
features are far less markedly present than in many other examples by
this silvery painter.

1530, by Solario, the famous Madonna of the Green Cushion, may be
compared with those by Marco da Oggiono, which it resembles in motive.

In 1599, La Vierge aux Rochers, we get Leonardo’s own personal type,
which is also seen in the Madonna and St. Anne of the Salon Carré.
Compare all these with the Mona Lisa, for touch and spirit. Then
continue your examination through the rest of this room with the
Leonardesque types: after which, turn to the School of Venice, beyond
them, and note the evolution of the Titianesque types from the primitive
Venetians.

On the opposite side of the same room, observe, once more, how Fra
Bartolommeo and his School arranged their extremely complex groups of
saints into a composition resembling a state ceremonial. From this point
on in the evolution of the Santa Conversazione you will see that the
arrangement of the saints entirely loses all sense of sacred meaning.
Artificial ecstasies replace natural piety. An attempt to be artistic,
and a desire to introduce a mode of treatment fitter for the theatre
than for the church, at last entirely obscure the original meaning of
these groups, which are so full of ardour in Fra Angelico, so full of
stateliness in Lorenzo di Credi.

Another day may well be devoted to the quaintly girlish Madonnas of the
=Flemish School=. Begin by observing carefully the Van Eyck of the Salon
Carré, which is a Madonna with donor, and the Memling of the Salle
Duchâtel, which is a Madonna with donors, not one with saints; the
patrons here being merely brought in to introduce the votaries to Our
Lady’s notice. From these, proceed to the Early Flemish section of the
Long Gallery, and note in detail the evolution of the type in later
pictures. I need hardly call attention to the Flemish love for crowns,
jewellery, and costly adjuncts. These reflect the wealthy burgher life
of Bruges, Ghent, and Antwerp. The translucent colour of the Flemish
painters, too, lends itself well to these decorative elements.

The best example of an =Early French Madonna= is the beautiful one which
hangs by the R hand side of the door in the Salon Carré, leading into
the Salle Duchâtel. This exquisite figure, a true masterpiece of its
School, should be compared with later French developments in painting,
as well as with the admirable collection of plastic works of this School
in the Renaissance Sculpture Gallery down stairs. With these may also be
mentioned, as a typical French example, the famous miracle-working
Notre-Dame-de-Paris, a statue of the thirteenth or fourteenth century,
which stands under a canopy against the pillar by the entrance to the
choir in the south transept of Notre-Dame, and is popularly regarded as
the statue of Our Lady to which the church is dedicated. The close
connection between royalty and religion in France, well exemplified in
the number of saints of the royal house at St. Germain l’Auxerrois, St.
Germain-des-Prés, St. Denis, and elsewhere, is markedly exhibited in the
extremely regal and high-bred character always given to French Madonnas.
The Florentine, which form in this respect the greatest contrast, are
often envisaged as idealised peasant girls, full of soul and fervour,
but by no means exalted.

Finally, note as far as is possible with the few materials in this
collection, the round-faced, placid type of the =German Madonna=—placid
when at rest, though contorted (as the Mater Dolorosa) with exaggerated
anguish. The fine wooden statue in the room of the Limoges enamels at
Cluny will help to strike the key-note for this somewhat domestic
national ideal. The early German Madonna is as often as not just a
glorified housewife.

Many other subjects for similar comparative treatment may be found in
the Louvre. Pick out for yourself a special theme, such as, for example,
the Adoration of the Magi, the Nativity, the Presentation in the Temple,
or the Agony in the Garden, and try to follow it out through various
examples. Choose also a saint or two, and pursue them steadily through
their evolution. Do not think that to examine paintings in this way is
to be absorbed by the subject rather than by the art of the painter.
Only superficial observers fall into this error. You will find on the
contrary that the characteristics of each School and of each artist can
best be discovered and observed by watching how each modifies or alters
pre-existing and conventional conceptions. In order to thoroughly
understand any early picture, you must look at it first as a
representation of such-and-such =a given subject=, for which a
relatively fixed and conventional set of figures or accessories was
prescribed by tradition. The number and minuteness of the prescribed
accessories will grow upon you as you watch them. You have then to
observe how =each School as a whole= treats such works; what feeling it
introduces, towards what sort of modification in style or tone it
usually tends. Next, you must consider it relatively to =its age=, as
exemplifying a particular stage in the progress of the science and art
of painting. Last of all you must carefully estimate what peculiarities
are due to the taste, the temperament, the hand, and the technique of
the =individual artist=. For example, Gerard David’s Marriage at Cana is
thoroughly Flemish in all its details; while Paolo Veronese’s is
thoroughly Venetian. You may notice the Flemish and Venetian hand, not
merely in the figures and the composition as a whole, but even in the
extraordinarily divergent treatment of such details as the jars in the
foreground, which for David are painted with Flemish daintiness of
detail, though coarse and rough in themselves; while Veronese approaches
them with Venetian wealth of Renaissance fancy, both in decoration and
handling. But the David, again, is not merely Flemish: it has the
distinctive marks of that particular Fleming, and should be compared
with his lovely portrait of a kneeling donor with his three patron
saints in the National Gallery: while the Veronese is noticeable for the
voluptuousness, the over-richness, the dash and spirit, of that large
free master of the full Renaissance, the Rubens by comparison among the
Venetians of his time. So too, if you study attentively the Botticellis
in the Salle des Primitifs, you can notice a close similarity of type in
many of his faces with the types in certain pictures by Filippo Lippi
and still more in those by other Florentines of the same period; while
you are yet even more distinctly struck by the intense individuality and
refined spiritual feeling of this very original and soulful master.

In order to study the Louvre aright, in short, you must be =continually
comparing=. In a word, regard each work, first, as a representation of
such-and-such a subject, falling into its proper place in the evolution
of its series: second, as belonging to such-and-such a school or
nationality: third, as representing such-and-such an age in the
historical evolution of the art of painting: fourth, as exhibiting the
individuality, the style, the characteristics, the technique, and the
peculiar touch of such-and-such an individual painter. Only thus can you
study art aright in this or any other gallery.

Try this method on Van Eyck’s Madonna, on Titian’s Entombment, on
Sebastiano del Piombo’s Visitation, and on Memling’s little John
Baptist, which is one attendant saint from a triptych whose Madonna is
missing.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Some other time, consider in detail the two delicately luminous
=frescoes by Luini=, in the Salle Duchâtel. Before doing so, however,
read on the spot the following remarks.

I have spoken here for the most part from the point of view of those
visitors who have not travelled much in Italy or the Low Countries. And,
as a matter of fact, the Louvre is the first great picture gallery on
the Continent visited by nine out of ten English or Americans. In
reality, however, since this collection contains several isolated
masterpieces of all the great schools, together with several unconnected
pictures of minor artists, it requires, almost more than any other great
gallery, to be seen by the light of information acquired elsewhere. It
ought, therefore, to be examined _after_ as well as, and even more than,
_before_ visits to other countries. This collection, for example,
includes works by Van Eyck, by Memling, by Giotto, by Fra Angelico. But
Van Eyck can only be fully understood by those who have visited Ghent;
Memling can only be fully understood by those who have visited Bruges:
it is impossible really to comprehend Giotto unless you have seen his
great series of frescoes in the Madonna dell’ Arena at Padua: it is
impossible really to comprehend Fra Angelico unless you have examined
the saintly and ecstatic works at San Marco in Florence. Thus you have
to bear in mind that the works in the Louvre are only =stray examples=
of masters and schools with whom an adequate acquaintance must be
obtained elsewhere. It was for this reason that I began these notes with
special examples of Mantegna, because he is one of the very few artists,
other than French, of whom you can form some tolerably fair conception
in Paris alone, to be pieced out afterwards by observation in Italy.

Furthermore, it must be recollected that many artists can only be seen
to advantage under the =conditions amid which= their works were
produced. This is especially the case with the Italian painters of the
14th and 15th centuries. They were =a school of fresco-painters=. Their
altar-pieces and other separate panels give but a very inadequate idea
of their powers, and especially of their composition. Giotto and Fra
Angelico, in particular, cannot possibly be estimated aright by any of
their works to be seen north of the Alps. The altar-pieces, being more
especially sacred in character, were relatively very fixed in type: they
allowed of less variation, less incident, less action, than the
histories of saints which frequently form the subjects of frescoes. You
can judge of this to a slight extent in the Louvre itself, by comparing
the Madonnas at the far end of the Salle des Primitifs with Giotto’s St.
Francis which hangs by: for the Madonna was the most sacred and
therefore the most bound by custom of any type. You will at once observe
how much freer and more naturalistic is the treatment in the episode of
the Stigmata than in the comparatively wooden figures of Our Lady by
which it is surrounded. Still more is this the case when we come to
compare any of these altar-pieces with frescoes such as those of the
Arena at Padua, or Santa Croce at Florence. Similarly with Fra Angelico:
the little crowded works which he produced as altar-pieces give a
totally different conception of his character and powers than that which
we derive from the large and relatively spacious frescoes at San Marco,
or in Pope Nicolas’s Chapel at the Vatican. In such works, we see him
expand into a totally different manner. Now frescoes, by their very
nature, cannot easily be removed from the walls of churches without
great danger. Therefore, the school of fresco-painters—that is to say,
the Early Italian school—is ill represented outside Italy.

Now Luini, though he belongs to the 16th century, and though he produced
some of his most beautiful works as cabinet or panel pictures, was yet
almost as essentially a painter in fresco as Fra Angelico or
Ghirlandajo. He can best be appreciated in Milan and its neighbourhood.
And I will add a few notes here for the benefit of those who know Italy,
and who can recall the works they have seen in that country. At the
Brera in Milan, an immense number of his frescoes, cut out from
churches, can be seen and compared to great advantage. Everybody who has
visited that noble gallery must recall at least the exquisite figure of
St. Catherine placed in her sarcophagus by angels, as well as the lovely
Madonna with St. Antony and St. Barbara, where the face and beard of the
aged anchorite somewhat recall the treatment of the old bearded king in
the Adoration of the Magi in this gallery. Still better can Luini’s work
be understood by those who know the Sanctuary at Saronno, where a
splendid series of his frescoes still exists on the wall of the great
church in which they were painted. The two frescoes here in the Salle
Duchâtel are not quite so fine either as those at Saronno or as the very
best examples among the collection at the Brera. Nevertheless, they are
beautiful and delicately-toned specimens of Luini’s work, and, if
studied in conjunction with other pictures by the same artist in the
adjoining rooms, they will serve to give a tolerably just conception of
his style and genius.

Luini is essentially a =Leonardesque painter=. He was not actually a
pupil of Leonardo; but like all other Lombard artists of his time, he
was deeply influenced by the temperament and example of the Florentine
master. If you wish to see the kind of work produced by the Lombard
school _before_ it had undergone this quickening influence of
Leonardo,—been Tuscanised and Leonardised—look at the Borgognones in
the Long Gallery. These, again, are not at all satisfactory specimens of
that tender, delicate, and silvery colourist. To appreciate Borgognone
as he ought to be appreciated, however, you must have seen him at home
in the Certosa di Pavia: though even those who know only his exquisitely
spiritual altar-piece of the Madonna with the two St. Catherines (of
Alexandria and Siena) in the National Gallery will recognise how
inadequately his work is represented by the specimens in the Louvre.
Nevertheless, these examples, inferior though they be in style and
feeling, will serve fairly well to indicate the point to which art had
attained in Lombardy _before_ the advent of Leonardo. I need not point
out their comparatively archaic character, and their close following of
earlier methods and motives. Again, if you compare with Borgognone the
subsequent group of Leonardesque painters,—Solario and his
contemporaries,—whose works hang close by on the left-hand wall of the
Long Gallery, you will see how immense was the change which Leonardo
introduced into Lombard art. From his time forward, the Leonardesque
face, the peculiar smile, the crimped wisps of hair, the subtle tones of
colour, and as far as possible the touch and technique of the master,
are reproduced over and over again by the next generation of Milanese
painters. Among them all, Luini stands preeminently forward as the only
one endowed with profound original genius, capable of transfusing the
Leonardesque types with new vitality and beauty of his own conceiving.
The others are imitators: Luini is a disciple.

These attributes are well seen in the two beautiful frescoes of the
Salle Duchâtel. They came to Paris from the Palazzo Litta, that handsome
rococo palace in Milan which stands nearly opposite the church of San
Maurizio, itself a museum of Luini’s loveliest frescoes, including the
incomparable Execution of St. Catherine. The Adoration of the Magi is
the most satisfactory of the two. In it the kings,—Caspar, Melchior,
Balthasar,—representing, as ever, the three ages of man and the three
old continents,—are treated with a grace and soul and delicacy which
Luini has hardly surpassed even at Saronno. The eldest king, as most
often, kneels next to the Madonna, who occupies the conventional R hand
of the picture. He has removed his crown, also an habitual feature, and
is presenting his gift, while the others are caught just before the act
of offering theirs. The exquisite face of this eldest king is highly
typical; so is the gently-smiling Leonardesque Madonna. The youngest
king is represented as a Moor, as always in German, Flemish, and North
Italian art, though this trait is rarer, if it occurs at all, in the
Florentine and Central Italian painters. I take it that the notion of
the Moor was derived from Venice; for the Three Kings were great objects
of devotion in Lombardy and the Rhine country. Their relics, which now
repose at Cologne, made a long stay on their way from the East at Milan;
and it is to this fact, I fancy, that we must attribute the exceptional
frequency of this subject in the art of Northern Italy, as of the
Rhenish region. In the background, the usual caravans are seen
descending the mountain. Such long trains of servants and attendants are
commonly seen in Adorations of the Magi. Camels and even elephants
frequently form part of them. Recollect the charming procession in the
exquisite Benozzo Gozzoli in the Riccardi Palace. A study of this
subject, from the simple beginnings in Giotto’s fresco in the Arena at
Padua (where a single servant and a very grotesque camel, entirely
evolved out of the painter’s imagination, form the sole elements of the
cortège; beyond the Three Kings), down to the highly complex Ghirlandajo
in the Uffizi at Florence, (a good copy of which may be seen at the
École des Beaux-Arts,) and thence to Luini, Bonifazio and the later
Italians, forms a most interesting subject for the comprehension of the
historical evolution of art in Italy. Go straight from this picture to
the Rubens in the Salon Carré in order to observe the way in which the
theme has been treated, with considerable attention to traditional
detail, yet with highly transformed feeling, by the great and princely
Flemish painter.

The Nativity, in Luini’s second fresco, is also full of traditional
features,—a beautiful work in the peculiar spirit of this gentle
artist. Note every one of the accessories and details, observing how
they have come from earlier pictures, and also how completely Luini has
subordinated them to his own art and his delicate handling. Comparison
of these two with the other Luinis in other rooms will give you some
idea of his varying manners in fresco and oil-painting. Note that the
frescoes represent him best, and are fullest of Luini.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Another picture, which in a wholly different direction exemplifies the
need for knowledge of works of art elsewhere, and especially under the
conditions in which they were originally painted, is to be found in
Carpaccio’s =Preaching of St. Stephen=, on the R hand wall, shortly
after you enter the Salle des Primitifs. This is one of a series of the
Life of St. Stephen,—a form of composition of which the only good
example in the Louvre is Lesueur’s insipid and colourless set,
recounting the biography and miracles of St. Bruno. In Italy, such
histories of saints are everywhere common, as frescoes or otherwise.
Those who know Venice, for example, will well remember Carpaccio’s own
charming series of the Life of St. Ursula, now well arranged round the
walls of a single room in the Venice Academy. Still better will they
understand the nature of these works if they have seen Carpaccio’s other
delicious series of the Life of St. George, in San Giorgio dei
Schiavoni, where the pictures still remain, at their original height
from the ground, and in their original position, on the walls of the
church for which they were painted. Only in such situations can works of
this kind be properly estimated. That they can less easily be understood
in isolation, you can gather if you look at the four cabinet pictures
from the boudoir of Isabella d’Este, by Mantegna, Perugino, and Costa,
which hang not far from this very St. Stephen in the same room of the
Louvre. The size of the figures, in particular, is largely dictated by
the shape of the room, the distance from the eye, and the character of
the space which the painter has to cover.

This St. Stephen series, again, once existed entire as five pictures,
all by Carpaccio, in the Scuola (or Guild) of St. Stephen at Venice.
Similar sets of other saints still exist in the Scuola di San Rocco and
other Guilds in the city. The first of the group, which represents the
saint being consecrated as deacon by St. Peter, is now in the Berlin
Gallery. The second, the Preaching of St. Stephen, is the one before
which you are now standing. The third, St. Stephen disputing with the
Doctors, is at the Brera in Milan. The fourth, the Martyrdom of St.
Stephen, is at Stuttgardt. The fifth and last, St. Stephen Enthroned,
between St. Nicolas and St. Thomas Aquinas, has disappeared from sight,
or at least its present whereabouts is unknown to me. It is interesting
to look out for such companion works in widely separated galleries.

Rightly to understand this picture, once more, one should know
Carpaccio. And fully to know him one must have spent some time in
Venice. But even without that knowledge, it is pleasant here to remark
the familiar acquaintance with oriental life, which is equally visible
in the neighbouring picture of the School of Bellini representing the
reception of a Venetian Ambassador at Cairo. The mixed character of the
architecture and the quaint accessories are all redolent of Carpaccio’s
semi-mediæval and picturesque sentiment. The pellucid atmosphere, the
apparent realism, the underlying idealism, the naïveté of the innocent
saint in his deacon’s robes, counting his _firstly_, _secondly_, and
_thirdly_ on his fingers, irrespective of persecution, and the glow and
brilliancy of the Venetian colouring, here approaching its zenith, all
combine to make this daintily simple picture one of the most attractive
in this part of the Louvre. Recollect it when you go to Milan and
Venice, and let it fall into its proper place, in time, in your mature
conception of the painter and the epoch in which he lived.

Nor is this all. It must be borne in mind that while the Louvre is one
of the noblest collections of pictures in Europe, it differs from most
other fine collections in the fact that its most important and valuable
works are =not of native origin=, nor of one race, school, or period.
The pictures at Florence are almost all Florentine: the pictures at
Venice are almost all Venetian. At Bruges and Antwerp we have few but
Flemish works: at the Hague and Amsterdam, few but Dutch. In the Louvre,
on the contrary (as at Dresden and Munich), we get several masterpieces
of _all_ the great schools, with relatively few minor works of the
groups to which they belong, by whose light to understand them. In
short, this is a gallery of purple patches. The gems of the collection
are the Raphaels, the Titians, the Leonardos, an exquisite Van Eyck, a
splendid Memling, a few fine Murillos, a number of great Rubenses. To
understand all these, we must know something of Florentine art, Umbrian
art, Venetian art, Flemish art, Spanish art, and so forth. The finest
pictures of any in the collection are not French at all, and cannot
wholly be comprehended by the light of works in this gallery alone.
Therefore it is best, if possible, =to return to the Louvre= after
visiting every other great school of art in Europe. On the other hand, a
few great artists are here very amply represented; among them I may
particularise Raphael, Titian, Mantegna, Leonardo and the Leonardesque
school, Gerard Dou, and Rembrandt.

As a further example of the light cast by pictures elsewhere on those in
this Gallery, however, I prefer to take a single little subject from the
predella of =Fra Angelico’s= glorious =Coronation of the Virgin=: I mean
the compartment which represents St. Dominic and his brethren being fed
by angels in the monastery of St. Sabina at Rome. Anybody who looks at
Fra Angelico’s painting, even in these smaller works, can recognise at
once his tender, saintly, and devout manner. He is permeated by a spirit
of adoring reverence, which comes out in every one of his angels and
martyrs. Fewer people, however, note that the angelic friar was also a
loyal and devoted =Dominican=. Whatever he paints is to the glory of
God: but it is also to the glory of St. Dominic and of the order that he
founded. This beautiful altar-piece, for instance, was produced by the
Dominican painter of Fiesole for the Dominican church of St. Dominic at
Fiesole. The saint himself, with his little red star, is everywhere
apparent: and those who have visited Fra Angelico’s own Dominican
monastery of San Marco at Florence will recollect that the founder and
his red star similarly occur in almost every fresco in that beautiful
building. They will also recollect that this very subject of the
brethren fed by angels forms the theme for a beautiful but much later
fresco by Sogliani in the Great Refectory of the same monastery. Such an
episode is admirably adapted for one of those large pictures
representing a repast of some sacred character which it was usual to
place on the end wall of conventual dining halls. Compare it also with a
Spanish treatment of a similar miracle by Murillo, in the Cuisine des
Anges. Note the simplicity and sobriety of the Early Italian work, as
contrasted with the strained feeling and insistence upon mere effects of
luminosity and glory in the showy Spanish painting. The moral of all
such half-allegorical miracles is clearly this:—Our order is sustained
by God’s divine providence.

I have said already that a =German Last Supper= in this collection
(German Room) betrays the influence of Leonardo’s great fresco on the
wall of the monastery of Santa Maria delle Grazie at Milan, of which an
early copy by a pupil of Leonardo’s exists in the Louvre (L wall of the
Long Gallery). But in order thoroughly to understand Leonardo’s Last
Supper, again, we must similarly compare it with many previous
representations of the same sacred scene. The type, in fact, was begun
among nameless Byzantine and early Christian artists, whose work can
best be studied in Italy. It found its first notable artistic expression
in Giotto’s fresco at Santa Croce at Florence, where the traditional
type is considerably transformed: and this Giottesque Last Supper was
repeated over and over again by many copyists, who each introduced
various modifications. Ghirlandajo once more transformed the type at San
Marco and the Ognissanti; and from Ghirlandajo, Leonardo borrowed part
of his arrangement, while transfusing it with an entirely new element of
life and action, at a dramatic moment, which marks this great painter’s
style, and is a distinct move forward in the art of composition. Each
work of art down to the end of the 16th century can thus only be fully
understood by considering it in its proper place, as one of a continuous
evolutionary series. Every painter took much from those who went before:
his individuality can best be gauged by observing how he transformed and
modified what he borrowed.

Now take =Ghirlandajo’s Visitation= in the Salle des Primitifs as an
example of a work which in quite a different way, requires to be
understood by light from elsewhere. Note how admirably the figures here
are balanced against the sky and the archway in the background. In
itself, this is a beautiful and striking picture; but it is also a good
illustration of those subjects which cannot adequately be understood by
consideration of works in this Gallery alone. The attitudes and costumes
of the two principal personages are strictly conventional: nay, if you
compare the St. Elizabeth in this Visitation with the same saint in the
Mantegna almost opposite, you will see that her dress and features
remain fairly typical, even in two such very distinct schools as the
Paduan and the Florentine. The relative positions of the Madonna and her
elder cousin have come down to Ghirlandajo from a very remote antiquity:
they were adopted, with modification, by Giotto, in his fresco of this
subject in the Madonna dell’ Arena at Padua. But Giotto also introduced
=an arch= in the background, which persists in almost all later
representations. His arch, however, is blind—you do not see the sky
through it. So is Taddeo Gaddi’s, in his closely similar Visitation at
Santa Croce in Florence: but the figures here still more nearly approach
the positions of the Ghirlandajo, and they stand more directly framed,
as it were, by the arch behind them. Skipping many intermediate
examples, each of which leads up to this picture, we come to this
beautiful embodiment of Ghirlandajo’s, which, while retaining the
simplicity of composition in the earlier examples, shows a fine artistic
instinct in the way in which the chief characters are silhouetted in the
gap of the archway. Ghirlandajo accepted the older tradition, while
transforming it with the skill and taste of the early Renaissance after
his own fashion. Those who have visited Florence will remember how
Pacchiarotto, in his admirable presentation of the same subject, now in
the Belle Arti in that town—which, like this one, is a Visitation with
selected saints as spectators—has closely followed Ghirlandajo’s
treatment with still further modifications: while the noble embodiment
of the same scene by Mariotto Albertinelli, in the Uffizi, consists of
the two central figures in the Ghirlandajo or the Pacchiarotto, cut out,
as it were, and presented separately with noble effect against a
background of sky seen through the archway. In such a case we see
distinctly how the individual work can only fairly be judged as a
development of motives borrowed from others which have preceded it, and
how in turn it gives rise later to still further modifications of its
own conception. If you have not yet visited Florence, bear in mind this
work when you see the Pacchiorotto and the Albertinelli. It is a good
plan for the purposes of such comparison to carry about photographs of
other pictures in the same series. You may go straight from the
Ghirlandajo here to the Sebastiano del Piombo in the Salon Carré; and
thence again to a copy of Pontormo’s Visitation in the Long Gallery (R
side, near the Fra Bartolommeo), which is interesting as showing a
survival of the arch, treated with far less effect, and thrown away as
an element in the composition. Here the attendant saints have become a
confused crowd, and the degradation of Fra Bartolommeo’s balanced
grouping is very conspicuous. Make one picture thus cast light upon
another.

                             II. SCULPTURE

    [The =Sculpture= at the Louvre falls into three main divisions,
    each of which is housed in a separate part of the building. The
    =Classical Sculpture= is approached by the same door as the
    Paintings, and occupies the basement floor of Jean Goujon’s part
    of the Old Louvre, with the wing beneath the Galerie d’Apollon.
    The =Renaissance Sculpture= is approached by a separate door in
    the eastern half of the same side, and occupies the
    corresponding suite opposite the Classical series. The =Modern
    Sculpture= is also approached by a special door in the north
    wing of the W side in the old Cour du Louvre, and occupies the
    suite beyond the Pavillon de l’Horloge.

    The importance of these three divisions is very different.
    Without doubt, the most valuable collection, intrinsically and
    artistically speaking, is that of the =Classical= or =Antique
    Sculpture=: and this should be visited in close detail by all
    those who do not contemplate a trip to Rome, Naples, and
    Florence. Nobody can afford to miss the “Venus of Milo,” the
    “Diana of Gabii,” or the Samothracian Nikè. On the other hand,
    these exquisite Greek and Roman works, models of plastic art for
    all time, including two or three of the greatest masterpieces
    which have come down to us from antiquity, have yet no _organic
    connection_ with French history, or even, save quite indirectly,
    with the development of French art. At the same time, thoroughly
    to understand them is a work for the specialist: those who have
    little or no classical knowledge, and who desire to comprehend
    them, must be content to buy the new official catalogue (not yet
    issued), to follow closely the excellent labels, and also to
    study the subject in detail in the various excellent handbooks
    of antique sculpture, such as Lübke’s or Gardner’s.

    The discrimination of the different schools, and the evidence
    (usually very inferential) as to the affiliation of the various
    works on the great masters or their followers, are so much
    matters of expert opinion that I do not propose to enter into
    them here. I shall merely give, for the general reader, a brief
    account of the succession and evolution of antique plastic art,
    as exemplified in the various halls of this gallery, referring
    him for further and fuller details to specialist works on the
    subject.

    The =Renaissance Sculpture=, on the other hand, is largely
    French; and, whether French or Italian, it bears directly on the
    evolution of Parisian art, and has the closest relations with
    the life of the people. Every visitor to Paris should therefore
    pay great attention to this important collection, which forms
    the best transitional link in Western Europe between Gothic
    Mediævalism and the modern spirit.

    The collection of =Modern Sculpture=, again, is both
    artistically and historically far less important. It may be
    visited in an hour or two, and it is chiefly interesting as
    bridging the lamentable gap between the fine Renaissance work of
    the age of the later Valois, and the productions of contemporary
    French sculptors.]

                          I. ANTIQUE SCULPTURE

    [Few or none of the most famous masterpieces of the great
    classical artists have come down to us with absolute certainty.
    The plastic works which we actually possess are for the most
    part those which have been casually preserved by accidental
    circumstances. Almost all the greatest productions of the
    greatest sculptors have either been destroyed or else defaced
    beyond recognition. We therefore depend for our knowledge of
    ancient sculpture either upon those works which were situated on
    comparatively inaccessible portions of huge buildings like the
    Parthenon and other temples, and which have consequently
    survived more or less completely the ravages of time, the
    mischief of the barbarian, and the blind fury of early Christian
    and Mahommedan fanatics; or else upon those which have been
    preserved for us in the earth, under the débris of burnt and
    ruined villas and gardens, or in the ashes of buried cities like
    Pompeii. Under these circumstances, the wonder is that so much
    of beautiful and noble should still remain to us. This is mainly
    owing to the fact that in antiquity =a fine model=, once
    produced, was repeated and varied _ad infinitum_,—much as we
    have seen at Cluny and in the paintings upstairs each principal
    scene from the Gospels or the legends of the saints, once
    crystallized by custom, was reproduced over and over again with
    slight alterations by many subsequent artists. The consequence
    is that most of the statues in this department fall into
    well-marked groups with other examples here or elsewhere. We
    have not the originals, in most cases, but we have =many
    copies=; and few of these copies are servile reproductions: more
    often, they show some touch of the individual sculptor. The best
    antiques are therefore generally those which happen most nearly
    to approach in spirit and execution a great and famous original.
    (See later, for example, the Apollo Sauroctonus.) You must
    compare these works one with another, in this collection and
    elsewhere, in this spirit, recollecting that often even an
    inferior variant represents in certain parts the feeling of the
    original far better than another and generally finer example may
    happen to do. Nay, such splendid works as the so-called Venus of
    Milo itself must thus be regarded rather as fortunate copies or
    modifications of an accepted type by some gifted originator than
    as necessarily originals by the best masters. With the exception
    of the few fragments from the Parthenon by Pheidias and his
    pupils, hardly anything in this gallery can be set down with
    certainty to any first-class name of the very best periods. But
    many statues can be assigned to groups which took their origin
    from certain particular famous sculptors: we know the _school_,
    though not the _artist_. And several are judged by the
    descriptions of ancient writers to be copies or variants of
    works assigned to sculptors of the first eminence.

    Many of the statues found in the Renaissance period, and up to
    the close of the eighteenth century, have been freely and often
    injudiciously restored: others have really antique heads, which
    do not however in every case belong to them. Not a few have been
    considerably altered and hacked about in the course of
    restoration, or of arbitrarily supplying them with independent
    faces. This reprehensible practice has _not_ been followed in
    more recent additions such as the “Venus of Milo” and the
    Samothracian Nikè.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Enter by the same door as for the paintings. Proceed along the corridor
(Galerie Denon) and dive, right or left, under the great staircase.
(Good new room to the R, containing excellent Roman mosaics from French
North Africa.) Pass some good sarcophagi and other objects, and enter
the =Rotonde=, which contains for the most part works of a relatively
late period. In the centre, the =*=Borghese Mars (or, in Greek, Ares), a
celebrated statue, less virile than is usual in figures of this god.
Round the room are grouped many fairly good statues, not a few of them
almost duplicates. Among them should be noticed (beginning from the
door) on the R a fine Melpomène; then, the Lycian Apollo, with harmless
serpent gliding from a tree-trunk; and especially the famous =*=Silenus
nursing the Infant Bacchus, of the School of the great sculptor
Praxiteles—perhaps the most pleasing of the many representations of
Faun and Satyr life which antiquity has bequeathed to us. This work
should be studied as showing that later stage of easy Greek culture when
sculpture was not wholly religious and monumental, but when the desire
to please by direct arts and graces was distinctly present. Close by are
two or three good draped female figures; and another Lycian Apollo,
which should be closely compared with the one opposite it, as indicating
the nature of the numerous copies or replicas commonly made of famous
works of antiquity. Beside this, a couple of Hermæ, or heads on rough
bases, in later imitation of the archaic Greek style, with its curious
stiff simper: the type was doubtless too sacred to be varied from: a
portrait-statue of a lady with the attributes of Ceres; a charming
Nymph, carrying an amphora; excellent figures of athletes, etc. Many of
the statues in this and succeeding rooms are much restored, and in some
cases with heads that do not belong to them. They are interesting as
showing the general high level of plastic art among nameless artists of
the classical period.

The next room, =**=the =Salle Grecque=, or =Salle de Phidias=, is
interesting as containing a few works of the great artist after whom it
is called, as well as many specimens of =archaic= Greek art, before it
had yet attained to the freedom and grace of the age of Pheidias. In the
=centre= are fragments of the early half-prehistoric figures (6th
century B.C.) commonly known as Apollos, but more probably serving in
many cases merely as funereal monuments—a man in the abstract, to
represent the deceased, like a headstone. They exhibit well the
constrained attitudes and want of freedom in the position of the arms
and legs, which are characteristic of the earliest epoch. These very old
features are still more markedly seen in the mutilated draped Herè in
the centre; it well illustrates the =starting-point= of Hellenic art.
The admirable =*=bas-reliefs from Thasos on the entrance wall, on the
other hand—removed from a votive monument to Apollo, the Nymphs and the
Graces, and still retaining the dedicatory inscription graven over their
portal,—exemplify the gradual increase in freedom and power of
modelling during the early part of the 5th century B.C. This improvement
is very noticeable in the Hermes with one of the Graces on the first of
these reliefs. Still somewhat angular in movement, they herald the
approach of the Pheidian period. From this time forward the advance
becomes incredibly rapid.

Next, examine the work of the =perfect period=. Above is a mutilated
fragment of Athenian girls ascending the Acropolis to present the holy
robe to Athenè, from the =frieze of the Parthenon=, of the great age of
Pheidias (not a century later than these archaic attempts): with
portions of a Metope of the same temple. The first may be possibly by
Pheidias himself: the second by his pupil Alcamenes. Close by, =Metope
of the= =temple of Zeus at Olympia= (about 450 B.C.), whose subjects are
sufficiently indicated on the labels: almost equal in power to the
Athenian examples. The fine bas-relief of Orpheus and Eurydice, of the
best period (falsely named above, later) should also be observed. (But
the works of the archaic and transitional periods are far better
exemplified at Munich and in London; while the fragments of Pheidias
cannot of course compare with the magnificent series in the British
Museum. See the copies of both in the École des Beaux Arts.) By the next
window, lion and bull, somewhat recalling remote Assyrian influence;
with numerous small reliefs of the best age, which should be carefully
studied. These, for the most part of the finest early workmanship,
admirably illustrate the extraordinary outburst of artistic spirit
during the age which succeeded the wars with Persia. The reliefs on the
=end wall=, chiefly from Athens and the Piræus, as well as those by the
last window, belong in most instances to this splendid age of awakening
and culminating art-faculty. I do not enumerate, as the labels suffice;
but every one of the works in this room should be closely followed. Do
not miss the charming, half-archaic, funereal relief of Philis, daughter
of Cleomedes, from Thasos.

Continue on through the Long Gallery, flanked by inferior works—but
what splendid inferiority!—to the room of the =Medea sarcophagus=, a
fine stone tomb, containing scenes from the legend of Medea and the
children of Jason. Round the room are grouped several small statues,
much restored, indeed, and not of the best period, but extremely
charming. The most noticeable is the dainty little group of the Three
Graces, characteristic and pleasing, though with modern heads. The next
compartment—that of the =Hermaphrodite=—includes one of the best and
purest of the many versions of this favourite subject, from Velletri,
couched, by the window. (Another in the Salle des Caryatides, for
comparison.) The Farnese Eros is a pretty work of a late period. The
room also possesses several works of the Satyr class, two of which,
close by, are useful as instances of repetition. The four statues of
Venus (Aphroditè), at the four corners (in two closely similar pairs)
are also very interesting in the same manner, being variants based upon
one original model, closely resembling one another in their general
features, but much altered in the accessories and details. The same may
be said of the good figures of Athenè by the far wall.

The Hall of the =Sarcophagus of Adonis= contains several excellent
sarcophagi, the reliefs on which well illustrate the character of the
class; among them, one to the L has interesting reclining figures of its
occupant and his wife, an early motive, late repeated. The relief from
which the room takes its name, on the wall to the right, represents, in
three scenes, the departure of Adonis for the chase; his wounding by a
wild boar; and Aphroditè mourning over the body of her lover. Such
reliefs afforded important hints in mediæval times to the sculptors who
first started the Renaissance movement. As we pass into the next
compartment, notice another variant of the Aphroditè.

The =Salle de Psyché= contains, opposite the window, the famous figure
from which it takes its name (too much restored to be freely judged):
together with two characteristic dancing Satyrs, after models of the
school of Praxiteles. The fine sculptured chairs of office by the window
should also be noticed.

We now come to the Hall of the so-called =Venus of Milo=—an absurd
mistranslation of the French name: the idiomatic English would be either
“the Melos Venus,” “the Melian Venus,” or, better still, “the Melian
Aphroditè.” This is undoubtedly the finest plastic work in the whole of
the Louvre. Its beauty is self-evident. It was found in 1820 in the
island of Melos in the Greek Archipelago. The statue is usually held to
represent the Greek goddess of love, and is a very noble work, yet _not_
one by a recognised master, nor even mentioned by ancient writers among
the well-known statues of antiquity. Nothing could better show the
incredible wealth of Greek plastic art, indeed, than the fact that this
exquisite Aphroditè was produced by a nameless sculptor, and seems to
have been far surpassed by many other works of its own period. In type,
it belongs to a school which forms a transition between the perfect
early grace and purity of Pheidias, with his pupils, and the later, more
self-conscious and deliberate style of Praxiteles and his
contemporaries. Not quite so pure as the former, it is free from the
obvious striving after effect in the latter, and from the slightly
affected prettinesses well illustrated here in the group of Silenus with
the infant Bacchus. The famous series of Niobe and her Children, in the
Uffizi at Florence (duplicates of some elsewhere), exhibits much the
same set of characteristics. Those works have been attributed on
reasonable grounds to Scopas, a contemporary of Demosthenes: and this
statue has therefore been ascribed with little hesitation to one of his
pupils. It is, however, purer in form than the Niobe series, and
exhibits the perfect ideal, artistic and anatomical, of the beautiful,
healthy nude female form for the white race. Its proportions are famous.
As regards the missing portions, which have happily _not_ been
conjecturally restored, it was originally believed that the left hand
held an apple (the symbol of Melos), while the right supported the
drapery. It is more probable, however, that the figure was really a Nikè
(or Victory) and that she grasped a shield and possibly also a winged
figure on an orb. Comparison with the other similar half-draped nude
statues described as Venuses in the adjoining rooms is very instructive:
their resemblances and differences show the nature of the modifications
from previous types, while the immense superiority of this to all the
rest is immediately apparent. Notice in particular the exquisite texture
of the skin; the perfect moderation of the form, which is well developed
and amply covered, without the faintest tinge of voluptuous excess, such
as one gets in late work; and the intellectual and moral nobility of the
features. No object in the Louvre deserves longer study. It is one of
the finest classical works that survive in Europe.

Pass to the R into the next suite of rooms, the first of which contains
the colossal figure of =Melpomène=, the tragic muse—a splendid example
of this imposing type of antique sculpture, so well represented in the
Vatican. Round the room are ranged several minor works, including a
charming Flute-Player, doubtfully restored, and some excellent busts.

The long series of rooms which follows this one contains in many cases
Græco-Roman works, imitated from the great Greek models, and often
showing more or less decadent spirit. Among them, however, are some of
the finest specimens of ancient sculpture, Greek included: and indeed it
must be admitted that the grounds upon which such Greek works are
distinguished by experts from later copies are often sufficiently
delicate and inferential. Centre, a beautiful Genius of Sleep. Behind
it, good figures of Eros (Love) drawing his bow, again indicating the
nature of the replicas and variations of established models which were
so familiar to antique sculptors. The little mutilated fragment by their
side, well placed here for comparison, excellently illustrates the
nature of the evidence on which such works are frequently restored.
Further on—a Venus, which is a variant (probably Roman) of the type of
the Venus of Arles, just beyond it. Behind this, a little in front in
the room, the noble =*=Pallas from Velletri—the finest and most typical
representation of the goddess: a good Roman copy of a Greek work of the
best period. Then the famous =*=Venus of Arles itself, a Greek original,
which may be instructively compared with the replica or variant close to
it. (The labels well indicate to the student who cares to proceed
further in this study the extent of the restorations in every case.)
This figure, after the Melian Aphroditè, is probably the most beautiful
female form in the entire collection. Behind it, the graceful and
exquisitely-draped Polyhymnia (replica of a well-known type), a model of
perfect repose and culture, but largely modern. Then, good bust of
Homer. Next, the =*=Apollo Sauroctonus or Lizard-Slayer, a copy in
marble of a famous work in bronze by Praxiteles. This is once more one
of the many reproductions (not necessarily always actual copies) of
types which are mentioned by classical authors. By the archway, Euterpe,
and a Votary. Among the sarcophagi, one of Actæon torn by his dogs:
another representing the Nine Muses. Most of the figures in this room
are marked by a calm and classical repose; while those in the next
compartment,

The =Salle du Héros Combatant=, indicate in many cases a later tendency
to rapidity of motion and violent action, which is alien to the highest
plastic ideal. Among the most successful works of this group is the
light and airy Atalanta, under the archway,—a beautiful figure of a
young girl, running, caught at the most exquisite statuesque moment.
Near it, a fine Venus Genetrix. By the window, admirable figure of a
wounded Amazon. Next window, the celebrated Borghese Centaur and
Bacchus, a charming realization of this mythological conception. Note
the playfulness of developed Greek fancy. The centre of the room is
occupied by a powerful and anatomically admirable figure of a Fighting
Hero (formerly called a Gladiator), by Agasias of Ephesus,—one of the
few statues here on which the sculptor has inscribed his name. It is a
triumph of its own “active” type of art (where movement and life are
aimed at), but wholly lacking in beauty or ideality. It belongs to the
age of Augustus or a little earlier. Behind it, Marsyas flayed alive, a
repetition of a frequent but unpleasant subject. Centre again, the Faun
of Vienne, a young satyr, retaining traces of colour, vigorous and
clever. Then, =**=exquisite ideal statue of a young girl fastening her
cloak, commonly but incorrectly known as the Diana of Gabii; for simple
domestic grace this dainty work is unrivalled. It is probably of the age
of Alexander the Great: and is well worth study. It almost suggests the
Italian Renaissance. By the archways, a Hermes known as the Richelieu
Mercury, with a closely similar replica. Under the archway leading to
the next room, fine portrait statue of the age of Hadrian, representing
Antinous, the Emperor’s favourite, in the guise of Aristæus, the
mythical hero of agriculture: the features are much less beautiful than
in most other instances of this well-known face, several examples of
which occur later. Such representations of historical characters in the
form of gods or mythical heroes were common at Rome: probably in most
cases the sitter’s head and figure were accommodated or adapted to a
well-known model.

The =Salle du Tibre=, which we next enter, contains in its centre the
celebrated figure of =*=Artemis (Diana) known as “Diane à la Biche” or
the “Diane de Versailles,” one of the antique statues acquired by
François I^{er}, the influence of which on later art will be very
distinctly felt when we come to examine the French sculpture of the
Renaissance. It is a charming, graceful, and delicate figure of the age
of declining art, exactly adapted to take the French fancy of that
awakening period. It was probably executed at Rome by a Greek sculptor
about the time of Julius Cæsar. At the end of the room, colossal
recumbent figure of the Tiber, represented as the benignant Father Tiber
of Rome, bearing the oar which symbolizes the navigable river, and the
cornucopia denoting the agricultural and commercial wealth of the Tiber
valley: by its side nestles the wolf, with Romulus and Remus; a pretty
allegorical conception of Rome and the stream which made it: itself
doubtless a pendant to the similar recumbent figure of the Nile in the
Vatican. Close by, two Satyrs, imitated from Praxiteles. Behind, four
Satyrs as Caryatides, from the theatre of Dionysus, Athens, 3rd cent.
B.C. Round the wall, good draped figures of goddesses. Walk through
these rooms often, in order to gain an idea of the astonishing wealth
and purity of Hellenic sculpture.

Now, return through the Salle Grecque and the Rotonde, and turn to the L
into the =Roman Galleries=, which contain for the most part statues and
busts of the imperial epoch.

In the first room are reliefs of sacrifices, and fronts of sarcophagi,
together with a fine portrait-statue of Sulla. By the second window, the
famous and noble head of Mæcenas, the great Etruscan statesman and
minister of Augustus, who practically organised the Roman Empire. The
astute features, very Tuscan in type, which in some degree recall those
both of Bismarck and Möltke, are full of practical vigour and the wisdom
of statecraft. A more characteristic or finer head has not been
bequeathed to us by antiquity. Contrast this magnificent and thoughtful
bust of the best Roman age, instinct with meaning, with the coarse and
coarsely-executed colossal head of Caracalla, the cruel and sensuous
Emperor of the decadence, in the next window,—as crude as a coarse
lithograph. In the corner, a Mithra stabbing a bull, of a class to be
noted again in greater detail later. By the passage into the next room,
masks of Medusa with the snaky hair.

Walk straight through the following rooms, without stopping, till you
arrive at the =Salle d’Auguste= on the right, at the end, so as to take
the works in historical sequence. This hall is the first in
chronological order of the =Roman period=. It contains portrait-statues
and busts of the Julian Emperors and their families, and of the Flavian
dynasty. Begin down the centre. =*=Bust of Julius Cæsar, indicating well
the intellectual character and relentless will of the man: a speaking
likeness. Next to it, the famous =**=Antinous (eyes removed; once
jewels), a much idealised colossal portrait-bust of the beautiful young
favourite of the Emperor Hadrian, who drowned himself in the Nile in
order to become a protecting genius for his patron; he is here
represented in a grave and rigid style somewhat faintly reminiscent of
Egyptian art, and with the attributes of Bacchus or (more correctly)
Osiris; Hadrian deified him and erected a temple in his honour in a town
in Egypt which he named after him. Observe the lotus entwined in the
hair. Fine portrait-statue of a Roman orator, probably Julius Cæsar, one
of the best works of its class of the best period of revived Greek art
under the early Roman Empire: signed by Cleomenes. The figure is that
conventionally attributed to Hermes or Mercury. Near it, Agrippa, the
son-in-law of Augustus and builder of the Panthéon; full of the
statesmanlike characteristics of the early empire. Ideal bust of Rome,
cold but beautiful; Romulus and Remus on the helmet. Under the tribune,
famous =*=portrait-statue of Augustus, a very noble representation. It
is flanked by two good portrait-statues of the Emperor himself, and of
his successor, Tiberius. In front of it are Roman boys of the imperial
family, the one to the L admirable in execution. They wear the golden
bulla round their necks, which marked lads of noble family; the faces
and figures are thoroughly patrician. Windowless wall, members of the
imperial (Julian and Claudian) family,—Agrippina, Tiberius, Drusus and
Germanicus, etc.; Caligula, showing incipient traces of Cæsarian
madness; Octavia, Antonia, and others. Study these carefully. Then, a
most malignant Nero, with less unpleasant ones further: a Messalina,
whose gentleness of face belies her reputation; a grandiose Claudius;
and a selfish Galba, in whom we begin to see traces of the traits
produced by ruthless struggle for empire. Near him, a vain-glorious
Otho, still fine and classical. Notice the dainty profiles of the women.
All the statues and busts in this room, indeed, are conceived in the
fine classical spirit, with no trace of the coming decadence. Most of
them have the old close-shaven, clear-cut Roman features, contrasting
strongly with the weaker, bearded types we shall see later. By the
window wall, statues, not so good, of the coarse bull-necked Vitellius;
hard, practical, business-like Vespasian; capable Titus, and one or two
less satisfactory busts or statues of Julius Cæsar. Observe even already
how both types and art begin to show less perfect finish. The men are
more vulgar: the artists less able.

The =Salle des Antonins=, next, contains a fine series of busts and
statues of this second prosperous epoch of the empire. Facing the river,
a very noble seated portrait-statue of Trajan, contrasting well with the
other more decadent emperors at the further end. We have here still the
old Roman severity, and the close-shaven type, admirably opposed to the
more sensuous degenerate faces further on, which herald the decadence.
These are the builders-up, the others the destroyers, of a great empire.
In the corner close by, two erect Trajans. Notice how clear an idea of
the personalities of the emperors comparison of these statues and busts
affords one. Close to the archway, a beautiful Faustina Junior, one of
the loveliest portrait-busts of the second Roman period. Further on,
bearded and weaker emperors of the Antonine age; among them, a capital
Lucius Verus, holding the orb of empire. Near it, a fine statue of the
philosophic emperor, Marcus Aurelius, seen here rather as the soldier
than as the sage. In the centre—the same emperor nude—or rather, a
nude figure, on which his head has been placed by a modern restorer. By
the middle window, colossal busts of Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius,
and a very big head of Lucilla, wife of the former. These all deserve
study, by comparison with the simpler and nobler types of the Julian
period.

The =Salle de Sevère=—age of the early decadence—contains in the
centre a fine statue of the Emperor’s mother, Julia Mammæa, figured
after the common fashion as Ceres—a half deification. Near it, another
(less pleasing) bust of Antinous. Excellent statue of Pertinax. Round
the walls, portrait-busts of the Antonine family and their successors,
in sufficient numbers to enable one to form clear conceptions of their
personality. This is especially the case with Caracalla and Plautilla by
the last window; Septimius Severus himself—a weak face, gaining
somewhat with age; and Lucius Verus, selfishly vicious, with a distinct
tinge of conscious cruelty. Near the last, a fine portrait-statue of
Faustina Senior. Beside it, pleasing bust of the boy Commodus; his
subsequent development may be traced round the rest of the window. All
these busts, again, should be viewed by the light of their dates; they
are identified by means of coins, where the same faces occur with their
names—most interesting for comparison.

The =Salle de la Paix= contains mixed works, some of them of the extreme
decadence. Among them, a good figure of Minerva in red porphyry, the
flesh portions of which have been restored in gilt bronze as Rome. By
the window, the Emperor Titus as Mars. A half-length of Gordianus Pius
near the archway is an unusually fine and classical example for its age.
Fine figure of Tranquillina, his wife, and nude of Pupianus, less
successful. In many of these works the decadence triumphs.

The =Salle des Saisons= contains busts, mostly of the extreme
=decadence=, and works with a =semi-barbaric= tinge. The bust of
Honorius, by the far door, shows the last traces of classical work
rapidly passing into =Byzantine= stiffness and lifelessness. Note the
feebleness of the eyes and general ineffectiveness of plastic treatment.
Eugenius, opposite him, equally displays decadence in a somewhat
different direction, provincial and Gaulish, foreshadowing barbaric
Romanesque workmanship. A fine Muse, however, stands next to Honorius.
There are also several very decent reliefs from sarcophagi. The figure
of Tiridates, wearing the barbaric trousers, is a fine example of
Greco-Roman art applied to a member of an alien civilisation. Close to
it, the famous =Mithra= of the Capitol, stabbing a bull, with other
representations of the same subject beneath and beside it. These reliefs
are extremely illustrative of a most interesting phase of the later
Empire. Rome was then a cosmopolitan city, crowded with Syrians, Jews,
Egyptians, Asiatic Greeks, and other Orientals. Many of these people
introduced into Italy and the Provinces the worship of their own local
deities: the cult of Isis, of Serapis, and of other Eastern gods
competed with Christianity for the mastery of the Empire. Among these
intrusive religions, one of the most successful was the worship of
Mithra, which came to Rome indirectly from Persia, and directly from the
southern shores of the Black Sea. The mystic deity himself is always
represented in an underground cave, stabbing a bull; he was regarded as
a personification or avatar of the Sun God. His worship spread rapidly
to every part of the Roman world, and was immensely popular: similar
reliefs have been found in all Romanized regions from Britain to North
Africa. The best of those in this room comes from the cave of Mithra in
the Capitol at Rome itself, where the eastern god was permitted even to
invade the precincts of the Capitoline Jupiter. Notice the barbaric
Oriental dress and the voluptuous, soft Oriental treatment; also, the
action in the cave, and the personages on the upper earth above it.
Compare all these reliefs with one another, and notice their origin as
given on the labels. Observe also the close similarity and religious
fixity of the representations. They should be studied with care, as
illustrative of the conflict of new religions with old in the Roman
Empire, out of which Christianity at last emerged triumphant. Their
number and costliness shows the strength of this strange faith; their
inferior art betokens both eastern influence and the approach of the
decadence. Compare the Oriental tinge in the Mithra reliefs with that of
some Early Christian works in the small Christian room of the
Renaissance Sculpture.

In the centre, Roman husband and wife, in the characters of Mars and
Venus, an excellent and characteristic group of the age of Hadrian;
contrast the somewhat debased proportions with those we have seen in the
best Greek period. Round the wall and by the windows, many inferior
portrait-busts of emperors of the decadence; observe their dates, and
note the gradual decrease in art and truth, and the slow return to
something resembling archaic stiffness. We have thus followed out the
rise and culmination of antique art, and watched its return to primitive
barbarity. Conspicuous among the works of the better age here are the
charming features of Julia Mammæa, wife of Alexander Severus, especially
as shown in the bust nearest to the first window. The fine Germanicus,
holding the orb of empire, is also an excellent example of the portrait
nude of the best period.

Leave this portion of the Museum by the =Salle des Caryatides= beyond,
so called from the famous Caryatides by Jean Goujon (French Renaissance;
see later), which support the balcony at its further end—very noble
examples of the revived antique of the age of François I^{er}—majestic
in their serenity. Above them is a cast from Cellini’s Nymph of
Fontainebleau, to be noticed later. The room contains good Greek and
Roman work of the culminating periods. In the =vestibule= to the L, by
the window, the =*=Borghese Hermaphrodite, a variant on the Velletri
type, voluptuous and rounded, belonging to the latest Greek period; the
mattress was added (with disastrous effect) by Bernini. In the =body of
the hall= colossal Jupiter of Versailles, an impressive Hermes-figure.
To the L, noble and characteristic =*=Demosthenes. In the centre, Hermes
and Apollo of the School of Praxiteles: boy fastening his sandals.
Dionysus, known as the Richelieu Bacchus. By the right wall, Aphroditè
at the bath, in a crouching attitude; a nymph is supposed to be pouring
water over her. All the works in this room deserve examination; they are
sufficiently described, however, by the labels.

                       2. RENAISSANCE SCULPTURE.

    [This collection, one of the most important and interesting
    among the treasures of the Louvre, occupies a somewhat
    unobtrusive suite of rooms on the Ground Floor, and is therefore
    too little visited by most passing tourists. It contains three
    separate sets of plastic work: first, sculpture of the =Italian
    Renaissance=, on which the French was mainly based; second,
    sculpture of the =Middle Ages= in France, leading gradually up
    to the age of François I^{er}, and improving as it goes, though
    uninfluenced as yet by external models; third, and most
    important of all, in Paris at least, the exquisite sculpture of
    the =French Renaissance=, a revolt from mediævalism, inspired
    from above by kings and nobles, based partly on direct study of
    the antique (many specimens of which were brought to France by
    François I^{er}), but still more largely on Italian models, made
    familiar to French students through the work of artists invited
    to the Court under the later Valois, as well as through the
    Italian wars of Charles VIII, Louis XII and François I^{er} (of
    which last more must be said when we visit St. Denis). At least
    =one whole day= should be devoted by every one to this
    fascinating collection: those who can afford the time should
    come here often, and study _au fond_ the exquisite works of
    Donatello, Michael Angelo, and (most of all) Jean Goujon,
    Germain Pilon, and their great French contemporaries. The
    Italians can be seen to greater advantage at Florence and
    elsewhere; only here can one form a just idea of the beauty and
    importance of the French Renaissance.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Enter by Door D, in Baedeker’s plan—centre of the South-Eastern wing in
the (old) Cour du Louvre. Pass straight through the vestibule, and Salle
de Jean Goujon; then turn to your R, traversing the Salle de Michel
Ange, and enter that of the =Italian Renaissance= (numbered VI
officially).

The Renaissance in France being entirely based upon that in Italy, we
have first to observe (especially in the case of those who have not
already visited Venice and Florence) what was the character of the
=Italian works= upon which the French sculptors and architects based
themselves. Here you get, as it were, the original: in French sculpture,
the copy. This small hall—the hall of =Donatello=—contains works of
sculpture of the 13th to the 15th centuries in Italy. Contrast it
mentally with the purely mediæval objects which you saw at Cluny,
unrelieved for the most part by classical example, in order to measure
the distance which separates the Italians of this epoch from their
contemporaries north of the Alps. Recollect, too, that the Italian
Renaissance grew of itself from within, while the French was an
artificially cultivated exotic.

R and L of the door, early squat figures of Strength and Prudence,
Italian sculpture of the 13th century, still exhibiting many Gothic
characteristics, but with a nascent striving after higher truth which
began with the school of the Pisani at Pisa. Opposite them, Justice and
Temperance, completing the set of the four cardinal virtues. These may
be looked upon as the point of departure. They show the first germ of
Renaissance feeling. L of doorway, good Madonna from Ravenna; flanked by
two innocent-faced angels, in deacon’s dress, drawing aside a curtain
from a tomb—beautiful work of the Pisan school of the 14th century:
contrasted with the best French reliefs at Cluny (such as the legend of
St. Eustace), these works exhibit the early advance of art in Italy.
Between them (contrasting well with the early French style, as much more
idealised) terra-cotta painted Madonna and Child. Beneath, good Madonna
in wood, and painted gesso Madonnas, later. Near the window,
=**=beautiful bust of a child, by Donatello, exhibiting the exquisite
unconscious naïveté of the early Renaissance. Most of these works are so
fully described on their pedestals that I shall only call attention to a
few characteristics. The emaciated figure of the Magdalen, in a Glory of
Cherubs, below, is the conventional representation of that Saint, when a
penitent in Provence, being daily raised aloft to the beatific vision:
many examples occur at Florence. The beautiful little terra-cotta
Madonna under a canopy close by is admirable in feeling. Opposite it,
characteristic decorative work of the Renaissance. Then, =**=Donatello’s
naïf Young St. John, the Patron Saint of Florence, is another exquisite
example of this beautiful sculptor. The open mouth is typical. A
Lucretia, near it, indicates the general tendency to imitate the
antique, still more marked in the relief of a funeral ceremony, where
the boy to the R is especially pleasing. Do not overlook a single one of
the Madonnas in this delightful room: the one above the funeral relief,
though skied, is particularly pleasing. Even the large painted wooden
Sienese Madonna in the centre, though the merest church furniture, has
the redeeming touch of Italian idealism. The busts of Roman emperors,
imitated after the antique, betray on the other hand the true spring of
Renaissance impulse.

The room beyond—to the R—No. VII—is filled for the most part with
fine  terra-cottas or =majolicas= of the =School of Della
Robbia=. Centre of L wall, at the end (as you enter), Madonna and Child,
with St. Roch showing his plague spot, and St. Francis pointing to the
stigma in his side—a votive offering. Fine nude figure, L of it, of
Friendship, by Olivieri. Exquisite little cherubs and angels. Bronze
busts, instinct with Renaissance feeling. Window wall—centre—a Della
Robbia of the Agony in the Garden: the arrangement is conventional, and
occurs in many other works in this Gallery. It is flanked by two good
Apostles of the Pisan school (the first to imitate the antique) from the
Cathedral of Florence. Far L, a voluptuous figure of Nature by Tribolo,
from Fontainebleau, characteristic of the works collected by François
I^{er}. R wall, several Madonnas, all of which should be closely
studied. In the centre, terra-cotta of the School of Donatello. R and L
of it, fine busts of the Italian Renaissance, with most typical faces.
Near the door, portrait-statue of Louis XII, by Lorenzo da Mugiano: this
king was the precursor of the French Renaissance: note the fine
decorative work on his greaves and knee-caps. In the centre, a fine St.
Christopher, his face distorted by the weight of the (non-existent)
Christ Child. I note these in particular, but _all_ the works in these
two rooms should be closely followed, both as exhibiting the development
from traditional forms, and as illustrating the style of art on which
the French Renaissance was grafted. Notice for instance (as survival,
modified) the quaint little St. Catherine, in the corner by the window,
bearing her wheel, and laying her hand with a caressing gesture on the
donor—a special votary, evidently. Observe, again, the three little
scenes from the life of St. Anne, in gilt wood, under the large Della
Robbia of the Ascension, on the wall opposite the windows. They
represent respectively the Rejection of Joachim’s Offering (he is
expelled from the Temple by the High Priest, because he is childless:
notice his servant carrying the lamb for sacrifice); the Birth of the
Virgin (with the usual details of St. Anne in bed washing her hands, the
bath for the infant, and the attendant bringing in a roast chicken to
the mother); and the Meeting of Joachim and Anne at the Golden Gate—a
scene which you may often recognise elsewhere (it comes immediately
after the first, the Birth being interposed as principal subject: the
servant here bears the rejected lamb less ceremonially). Beneath them,
once more, a characteristically dainty St. George and the Dragon—with
the beautiful Princess most heartlessly fleeing (as always) in the
distance—should be carefully noted for comparison later with Michel
Colombe and Raphael (St. George’s lance is accidentally broken: you can
still see the stump of it). To the L, again, is a beautiful Tabernacle
of the Della Robbia school—angels guarding relics. To the R, a
terra-cotta angel, most graceful and beautiful. Further L, charming
Madonna: I need hardly call attention to the frames of fruit, which were
a Della Robbia speciality. Further R, Baptism of Clovis, gilt, and very
spirited, though over-crowded. Do not overlook the skied St. Sebastian.

(The little room beyond again contains a small but interesting
collection of =Early Christian works= which must be visited and studied
on some other occasion. These very ancient Christian sculptures, antique
in conception, antedate the rise of the conventional representations.)

Now return through Room VI to the =Salle de Michel Ange= (Room V),
containing for the most part still more developed works of the Italian
Renaissance, which therefore stand more directly in connection with
French sculpture of that and the succeeding period. The =*doorway= by
which we enter is a splendid specimen of a decorated Italian Renaissance
portal, removed from the Palazzo Stanga at Cremona; it was executed by
the brothers Rodari at the end of the 15th century, and is decorated
with medallions of Roman Emperors, a figure of Hercules (the mythical
founder of Cremona), and of Perseus, together with reliefs from the
myths of those heroes and others. Identify these. Above the name of
Perseus, for example (to the R), is a relief representing the three
Gorgons and the head of Pegasus. Above that of Hercules (L) are the
heads of the Hydra which he slew (as also represented in a bronze on the
end wall not far from it). This gateway you should mentally compare,
when you visit the École des Beaux-Arts, with that of Diane de Poitiers’
Château d’Anet now erected in the courtyard and with the _façade_ of the
Château de Gaillon at the same place. The beautiful Italian Renaissance
fountain in the centre of the room comes itself from the same Château de
Gaillon: it was given to Cardinal d’Amboise (who built the Château) by
the Republic of Venice.

The most beautiful works in this room, however, are the two so-called
=*Fettered Slaves=, by Michael Angelo—in reality figures of the
Virtues, designed for the monument of Julius II. It was Michael Angelo’s
fate seldom to finish anything he began. This splendid monument,
interrupted by the too early death of the Pope who commissioned it, was
to have embraced (among other features) figures of the Virtues, doomed
to extinction by the death of the pontiff. These are two of them: the
one to the right, unfinished, is of less interest: =**=that to the left,
completed, is of the exquisite beauty which this sculptor often gave to
nude youthful male figures. They represent the culminating point of the
Italian Renaissance, and should be compared with the equally lovely
sculptures of the Medici tombs in San Lorenzo at Florence. Observe them
well as typical examples of Michael Angelo’s gigantic power and mastery
over marble.

You will note in the windows close by several exquisite =bronze
reliefs=; eight of them, by Riccio, are from the monument of the famous
anatomist, Della Torre, representing his life and death in very
classical detail. (L window) Della Torre lecturing at Verona;
dangerously ill; sacrifice to the gods for his recovery; his death and
mourning: (R window) his obsequies; passage of the soul (as a naked
child with a book) in Charon’s boat (pursued by Furies); apotheosis
(crowned by Fame); and celebrity of the deceased on earth; all designed
in a thoroughly antique manner. (Souls of the recently dead are
frequently represented leaving the body like new-born children.) This
work shows the Renaissance not only as secular and humanist but even as
pagan: early ages would have considered such treatment impious. All the
other reliefs in this very important room should be carefully noted. By
this (R) window, the Annunciation (from Cremona); Judgment of Solomon
(now wholly conceived in the classical spirit); Adoration of the Magi,
in bronze; figures of Galba and Faustina, entirely antique in tone; Paul
shaking off the snake, etc. A portrait medallion of Ludovico il Moro of
Milan (also by this window) may be instructively compared with those in
contemporary Italian paintings upstairs. The next (L) window (with a
rosso antico and marble imitation of the Wolf of the Capitol) contains
the beginning of the reliefs from the tomb of Della Torre, in the same
classical style, together with two exquisite Madonnas by =Mino da
Fiesole=, and other charming works of the same period. The infantile
simplicity of Mino has an unspeakable attraction. Between the windows, a
Pietà from Vicenza, with St. Jerome, beating his breast as always with a
stone, and St. Augustine (I think) writing. On the far wall, note a fine
wooden Annunciation in two figures, from Pisa, of the Florentine 14th
cent. The angel Gabriel and the Madonna are frequently thus separated.
Between them, admirable equestrian figure of Robert Malatesta, of
Rimini, where the action of the horse is particularly spirited. Fine
bust of Filippo Strozzi by Benedetto da Majano on a pedestal close by.
(You will find many works by this artist for this patron at Florence.)
The various Virgins on the R wall should also be carefully studied, as
well as the fine wooden Circumcision—a good rendering of the
traditional scene, where the artist triumphs over his intractable
material—and the exquisitely dainty bust of the Florentine =**=Baptist,
instinct with the tender simplicity of Mino da Fiesole, whose decorative
fragments above must not be overlooked. Do not leave this room without
having carefully examined everything it contains, as every object is
deserving of study. [For instance, I have omitted to mention works so
fine as the self-explanatory High Renaissance Jason, the relief of
Julius Cæsar, the splendid bust of Beatrice d’Este (see for this family
the Perugino, etc., upstairs), and the spirited bronze of Michael
Angelo, lined with the lines of a thinker who has struggled and
suffered.] Finally, sit long on the bench between the windows, and look
well at the =Nymph of Fontainebleau=, with stag and wild boar, by
Benvenuto Cellini, the great Florentine metal-worker whom François
I^{er} commissioned to produce this work for Fontainebleau. (But Henri
II gave it instead to Diane de Poitiers, for her Château d’Anet.)
Cellini’s work gave an immense impetus to French sculpture, and it is
largely on his style that Jean Goujon and the great French sculptors we
have shortly to examine formed their conceptions. Voluptuous and
overlithe, this fine relief is a splendid example of its able,
unscrupulous, deft-handed artist—seldom powerful or deep, yet always
exquisite in tone and perfect in handicraft.

Now, in order to form a just conception of the rise of the =French
school of sculpture=, traverse the Salle de Jean Goujon and the other
rooms which succeed it, till you come to the last room of the
suite—officially No. I—the =Salle d’André Beauneveu=. This vault-like
hall contains works of the =Early French School= of the 13th, 14th, and
15th cent., still for the most part purely Gothic, and uninfluenced in
any way by Italian models. Among them we notice, at the far end of the
room, near the door which leads into the Egyptian Museum, several
statuettes of Our Lady and Child, of a character with which Cluny has
already made us acquainted. Invariably crowned and noble, they represent
the Madonna as the Queen of Heaven, not the peasant of Bethlehem. This
regal conception and, still more, the faint simper, are intensely
French, and mark them off at once from most Italian Madonnas. Further
on, by the end window, the figures of angels, of St. John Baptist, and
of a nameless king, are also thoroughly French in character; while the
dainty little Burgundian choir of angels, holding, as they sing, a
scroll with a Gloria, is in type half German. Note also the numerous
=recumbent effigies from tombs=, among the best of which are those of
Catherine d’Alençon and of Anne of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford. The
tombs at this end have still the stiff formality of the early Gothic
period. The strange recumbent figure in the centre, supported by most
funereal mourners (placed too low to be seen properly), is the tomb of
Philippe Pot, Grand Seneschal of Burgundy under John the Good, from the
Abbey of Citeaux. Such mourners are characteristic of the monumental art
of Burgundy. One more occurs under a canopy near the middle window: you
will recollect to have seen others (from the tomb of Philippe le Hardi)
at Cluny. Further on in the room we get more Madonnas whose marked
French type you will now be able to recognise. Good recumbent figures of
a bishop, and of Philip VI, sufficiently described by the labels, and
other excellent statues, one of the best of which is the child in the
centre. The king and queen by the doorway are also fine examples of the
art of the 15th cent. Notice the dates of all these figures, as given by
the labels, and convince yourself from them (as you can do still more
fully in the next room) that French art itself made a =domestic advance=
from the 11th cent., onward, wholly independent of Italian influence.
This advance was due in the main to national development, and to the
slow recovery of trade and handicraft from the barbarian irruption. What
was peculiar to Italy was the large survival of antique works, which the
School of Pisa, and others after them, strove to imitate. In France,
till François I^{er}, no such classical influence intervenes: the
development is all home-made and organic. But if you contrast the busts
by the W doorway, or the tombstone of Pierre de Fayet, near them, with
the ruder work by the first window in the next room, the reality of this
advance will become at once apparent to you. The artists, though still
hampered by tradition, are striving to attain higher perfection and
greater truth to nature. Do not miss in this connection the excellent
wooden Flagellation by the middle window: nor the Madonna opposite it;
nor the donor and donatrix close by; nor the fine mutilated Annunciation
(with lily between the figures) by the W window; nor the well-carved
Nativity (clearly Flemish, however) near the seat by the doorway. In
this last, observe the quaint head-dress of the donatrix in the
background (an unusual position) as well as the conventional ox and ass,
and the Three Kings approaching in the upper right-hand corner, balanced
by the shepherds listening to the angels. St. Joseph’s candle is,
however, a novelty. I merely note these points to show how much there
may often be in seemingly unimportant objects. This is officially called
an Adoration of the Shepherds, but if you look into it, you will see,
erroneously. The person entering from behind is a mere modern spectator.
Study well the works in this room and the next, regarded as a
=starting-point=.

In the =passage= leading into the next room are a truncated statue of
St. Denis, from his Basilica (to be visited later), and, beyond it, a
group of Hell from the same church. Notice the usual realistic jaws of
death, vomiting flame and swallowing the wicked. Observe also that souls
are always represented as nude. Opposite this, a mutilated fragment of
St. Denis bearing his head, and accompanied by his two deacons, St.
Rusticus and St. Eleutherius. I have not hitherto called attention to
these two attendant deacons, but you will find them present in almost
all representations of St. Denis. (Look for them among the paintings.)
Try to build up your knowledge in this way, by adding point to point as
you proceed, and afterwards returning to works earlier visited, which
will gain fresh light by comparison with those seen during your more
recent investigations.

Enter Room II: =Salle du Moyen Age=. Notice, first, the fragments by the
window; those numbered 19 to 22 are good typical examples of the rude
work of the Romanesque period (10th to 12th cents.). 23, beside them,
shows the improvement which came in with the Gothic epoch, as well as
the distinctive Gothic tone in execution,—softer, and rounder, with
just a touch of foolish infantile simplicity or inanity. Observe all the
other heads here, and compare their dates, as shown on the labels. Two
beautiful angels, from the tomb of the brother of St. Louis, will
indicate this gradual advance in execution, wholly anterior to any
Renaissance influence. On the R side of the window, notice particularly
an admirable head of the Virgin, 76, and another near it, from the
cathedral of Sées. On the pillar, St. Denis bearing his head. Every one
of these capitals and heads should be closely noted, with reference to
the dates shown on the label. In the little Madonna on the L hand
window, observe a nascent attempt to introduce an element of playfulness
which is characteristically French. This increases later. It develops
into the grace—the somewhat meretricious grace—of more recent French
sculpture.

Now turn to the body of the room. R wall, 53, an excellent angel. Beyond
it, the Preaching of St. Denis; observe that he is here attended by his
two faithful deacons; the gateway indicates that he preaches at Paris.
Such little side-indications are common in early art: look out for them.
Above it, Christ in Hades, redeeming Adam and Eve, as the first fruits
of the souls, from Limbo; the devil bound in chains on the ground
beneath them; you saw several similar works at Cluny. Further on,
another Madonna and Child, with the same attempt at playfulness; notice
here Our Lady’s slight simper, a very French feature; the Child carries
a goldfinch, which you will frequently find, if you look for it, in
other representations, both French and Italian. The  relief of
Pilate recalls those in the ambulatory at Notre-Dame. (Read in every
case the date and place whence brought here.) Beneath it are the
Flagellation, Bearing of the Cross, Crucifixion, and Entombment, which
may be profitably compared with other examples.

(If, after observing the French type of Madonna in these rooms, and the
few Burgundian works they contain, you have time to revisit the Mediæval
Sculpture at Cluny—Room VI, ground floor—as I strongly advise you to
do, you will find that =Burgundian art= in the Middle Ages was quite
distinct from French, and had types of its own, approximating to the
Flemish, and still more to the German. This is well seen in the
Burgundian Madonna and St. Catherine at Cluny. For study of the style,
it is a good plan to stop at =Dijon= on your way to or from
Switzerland.)

The end of the room is occupied by a Gothic doorway from a house in
Valencia (Spain), which may be contrasted with the scarcely later
Renaissance example from the Palazzo Stanga. On its top is an
Annunciation, representations of which are frequent in similar
situations; we saw one on the façade of St. Étienne du Mont; in such
cases, the Madonna is almost always separated by some form of wall,
door, or ornament from the angel Gabriel; here, the finial represents
the usual pot of lilies. Below it, a very characteristic French Madonna,
again slightly smirking, and with the Child bearing the goldfinch. Note
once more the royal air, the affected ladylike manner, given to the
Madonna in early French sculpture and painting. To its L, a similar
regal painted Madonna. To the R, gorgeous  statue of King
Childebert, of the 13th cent.: this once stood at the entrance to the
beautiful refectory of the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés (see later)
which Childebert founded, and where the king was buried. L wall,
fragment of a  stone relief, Judas receiving payment: of the
same type as those in Notre-Dame. Further on, a similar Kiss of Judas.
(Compare this with several specimens at Cluny.) The mutilated state of
many of these fragments is in several instances due to the Revolution.
All the other statues and fragments in this compartment should be
carefully examined, including the strange scene from a Hell, and the
stiff wooden Madonna, on pedestals in the centre. By the doorway,
painted Virgin and Child,—the Madonna under a little canopy, and very
typical of French conceptions.

Room III, =Salle de Michel Colombe=, represents the =advance= made =in
French plastic art= during the last half of the 15th cent., and the
beginning of the 16th cent., in some cases independently of the Italian
Renaissance. The bust of François I^{er}, in bronze, on a pedestal near
the door, may be compared, both for spirit and likeness, with the (very
wooden) contemporary portraits of the same king in the French School
upstairs. It has all the stiffness and archaic fidelity of early
portraiture, with the usual lack of artistic finish. Note such little
points as that the king wears the collar of his order, with the St.
Michael of France as a pendant. Near the window, fragments of work
displaying Renaissance influence. One, a relief of the Return of the
Master, from the Château de Gaillon (built by Cardinal d’Amboise,
minister of Louis XII, and one of the great patrons of the Renaissance
in France), exhibits the beginning of a taste for secular, domestic, and
rustic subjects, which later became general. (Early work is all
sacred—then comes mythical—lastly, human and contemporary.) Note on
the opposite side, the fine bronze of Henri Blondel de Rocquencourt,
under Henri II. The Apollo and Marsyas is strongly Renaissance—a mythic
subject (see the Perugino upstairs). The Massacre of the Innocents
exhibits Renaissance treatment of a scriptural scene. The =centre of the
room= is occupied by fine =bronzes= of the school of Giovanni da
Bologna, a Frenchman who worked in Italy and forms a link between the
art of the two countries. Observe the decorative French slenderness and
coquetry of form, combined with the influence of the Italian
Renaissance. The Mercury—light and airy—is a replica of Giovanni da
Bologna’s own famous statue in the Bargello at Florence. The Mercury and
Psyché beside it is a splendid example of Giovanni da Bologna’s school,
by Adrian de Vries. Notice the French tinge in the voluptuous treatment
of the nude, and the slenderness and grace of the limbs. The bronze
statue of Fame, from the tomb of the Duc d’Epernon, exhibits in a less
degree the same characteristics. It is obviously suggested by Giovanni’s
Mercury.

Along the wall to the L, the most noticeable work is the splendid
=**=marble relief of St. George, by the great French sculptor Michel
Colombe, produced for the chapel of the Château de Gaillon; recollect
all these Gaillon objects, and their connection with one another: the
château was erected under Louis XII, at the dawn of the French
Renaissance, and much of its work, like this fine relief, shows a
considerable surviving Gothic feeling. You will see the façade of the
château later at the École des Beaux-Arts. It is interesting to compare
this splendid piece of sculpture with the little Della Robbia in the
Italian rooms, and the painting by Raphael upstairs: the dragon here is
a fearsome and very mediæval monster; but the St. George and his horse
are full of life and spirit; and the fleeing Princess in the background
is delicately French in attitude and conception. The dragon is biting
the saint’s lance, which accounts for its broken condition in the
Raphael and the Mantegna. Comparison of the various St. Georges in this
collection, indeed, will give you an admirable idea of the way in which
a single conventional theme, embracing always the very same elements, is
modified by national character and by the individuality of the artist.
To understand this is to have grasped art-history. (Note that the legend
of St. George itself is in one aspect a Christianisation of the myth of
Perseus and Andromeda.)

Beneath the St. George stands a fine Dead Christ, also exhibiting
characteristic French treatment. The somewhat insipid but otherwise
excellent Madonna and Child, on a pedestal close by, is admirable as
exemplifying the transformation of the smirking Madonnas of the Middle
Ages into the type of the Renaissance. The Death of the Virgin, near it,
from St. Jacques-de-la-Boucherie (of which only the tower now remains),
suggests to one’s mind the riches which must once have belonged to the
demolished churches of Paris,—mostly, alas! destroyed at the great
Revolution. Observe in this work the figures of the attendant apostles,
the Renaissance architecture of the background, and the soul of the
Madonna ascending above, escorted by angels, to heaven. More naïve, and
somewhat in the earlier style, is the Nativity above it, flanked by the
two St. Johns, the Baptist and the Evangelist. The tomb of Philippe de
Commynes also illustrates the older feeling, as yet little influenced by
the Italian irruption. Note that the works which betray the greatest
Italian influence are chiefly connected with the =royal= châteaux and
palaces of François I^{er} and his Italianate successors, or their wives
and mistresses; the =nation= as yet is little touched by the new models.

The bronze tomb of Alberto Pio of Savoy, by Ponzio, on the other hand,
exhibits strongly the Italian tendency, and should be compared with the
earlier recumbent tombs, behind in Room I, as showing the survival of
the mediæval type, transmuted and completely revivified. The same may be
said of the tomb of Philippe de Chabot, which, however, is more
distinctively French and much less markedly Italian. See how the early
prostrate effigies become here recumbent: the figure, as it were, is
trying to raise itself. In comparing the various works in this room,
endeavour to note these interlacing points of resemblance and
difference. The beautiful Genii above are parts of the same tomb, and
are exquisite examples of the minor work of the French Renaissance.
Passing the Italian Tacca’s admirable bust of Giovanni da Bologna, we
come to an excellent Entombment, of the French School, from St.
Eustache, which should be compared with earlier specimens in the
adjacent rooms. Beneath it, a fine fragment by Jean Cousin. Still lower,
a Passage of the Red Sea, beginning to display that confused composition
and lack of unity or simplicity which spoiled the art of the later 16th
and 17th centuries. The fine Madonna and Child close by should be
compared with the very similar example opposite, as well as with its
predecessors in other centuries. (Comparison of varying versions of the
_same_ theme is always more instructive than that of different
subjects.) The tomb of Abbot Jean de Cromois, with its Renaissance
framework, shows a survival of earlier tendencies; as does also that of
Roberte Legendre, though the figures of Faith and Hope (Charity is
missing) are distinctly more recent in type than the recumbent effigy.
Those who have time to notice and hunt up the =coats of arms= on the
various tombs will often find they shed interesting light on their
subjects. Observe also the =churches= from which these various monuments
have been removed, a point which will fit in with your previous or
subsequent knowledge of the buildings in many cases.

The =last window= contains a few works of the =German School=, which it
is interesting to compare with their French contemporaries. Thus, the
shrewd, pragmatical, diplomatic head of Frederick the Pacific, a coarse,
cunning self-seeker, is excellently contrasted with the French
portrait-busts. The little scene of the Holy Family, after Dürer, which
should be closely studied, is essentially German in the domestic
character of its carpenter’s shop, in the broad peasant faces of its
Madonna and attendant angels, in the playful touches of the irreverent
cherubs, and in the figure of the Almighty appearing in clouds at the
summit of the composition. The Kiss of Judas, opposite it, is also
characteristically German; notice the brutal soldiers, whose like we
have seen in woodwork at Cluny: the bluff St. Peter with the sword is
equally noteworthy; in the background are separate episodes, such as the
Agony in the Garden; though officially ascribed to the French School,
this is surely the work of a deft but unideal German artist. Do not
neglect the many beautiful =decorative fragments= collected in this
room, nor the fine busts, mostly of a somewhat later period.

Now enter Room VIII, the =Salle de Jean Goujon=. The magnificent
collection of works contained in this room embraces the =finest
specimens of French Renaissance work= of the school of the great artist
whose name it bears, and of his equally gifted contemporary, Germain
Pilon. They represent the plastic side of the School of Fontainebleau.
In the centre is Jean Goujon’s =**=Huntress Diana, with her dogs and
stag; it was probably executed for Diane de Poitiers, and comes from her
Château d’Anet, presented to her by her royal lover. (Note all the works
from the Château d’Anet, which is a destroyed museum of the art of the
Renaissance.) Observe on the base the monogram of H. and D., which
recurs on contemporary portions of the Louvre. The decorative lobsters
and cray-fish on the pedestal should also be noted. Diana herself
strikes the keynote of all succeeding French sculpture. Beautiful,
coquettish, lithe of limb, and with the distinctive French elegance of
pose, this figure nevertheless contains in it the germs of rapid
decadence. It suggests the genesis of the 18th century, and of the
common ormolu clock of commerce. Step into the next room and compare it
with the Nymph of Fontainebleau, by Benvenuto Cellini. You will there
see how far the Florentine artist approached the French, and how much
the Frenchman borrowed from the Florentine. Walk round and observe on
either side this the most triumphant work of the French Renaissance.
Observe also its relations to the Diana of Versailles, in the Classical
Gallery—brought to France by François I^{er},—and its general debt to
the antique, as well as to contemporary Italy.

Perhaps still more beautiful is the exquisite =**=group of the Three
Graces, supporting an urn, by Germain Pilon, intended to contain the
heart of Henry II, and commissioned by Catherine de Médicis. It once
stood in the Church of the Celestines. Here again one sees the delicacy
and refinement of the French Renaissance, with fewer marks of its
inherent defects than in Jean Goujon’s statue. Sit long and study this
exquisite trio—which the Celestines piously described as the
Theological Virtues. Walk round it and observe the admirably natural way
in which the figures are united by their hands in so seemingly
artificial a position. The charming triangular pedestal is by the
Florentine sculptor, Domenico del Barbiere.

The third object in the centre of the room is the exquisite group of the
=**=Four Theological Virtues, in wood, also by Germain Pilon, which,
till the Revolution, supported the reliquary containing the remains of
Ste. Geneviève, in St. Étienne-du-Mont, and earlier still in the old
church now replaced by the Panthéon. These are probably the finest
figures ever executed in this difficult material. The faces and
attitudes deserve from every side the closest study. If you have entered
into the spirit of these three great groups in the centre of this room,
you have succeeded in understanding the French Renaissance.

Now, begin at the further wall, in the body of the Salle, and observe,
first, the exquisite reliefs of =*=Tritons and Nereids, with =**=Nymphs
of the Seine, by Jean Goujon. Read the labels. We shall visit hereafter
the Fountain of which these graceful and delicate reliefs once formed a
portion. The Nymph to the L is one of the loveliest works ever produced
by its sculptor, and is absolutely redolent of Renaissance spirit. It
indicates the change which had come over French handicraft, under the
influence of its Italian models, at the same time allowing the national
spirit to shine through in a way which it never succeeded in doing in
contemporary painting. Beneath it are two noble figures in bronze, from
the tomb of Christopher de Thou, attributed to an almost equally great
artist, Barthélemy Prieur. Frémin Roussel’s Genius of History still more
markedly anticipates more recent French tendencies. It is intensely
modern. Germain Pilon’s monumental bronze of René Birague prepares us
for the faults of the French works of this style in the Louis XIV
period. Mere grandiosity and ostentation are here foreshadowed. The
centre of the next wall is occupied by Germain Pilon’s fine
chimney-piece, with Jean Goujon’s bust of Henri II as its central
object. The decorative Renaissance work on this mantel should be closely
studied, as well as that—so vastly inferior—on the adjacent later
columns of the age of Louis XIV. Barthélemy Prieur’s exquisite bronzes
from the tomb of the Constable Anne de Montmorency also breathe a
profoundly French spirit. The figures represent Justice, Courage, and
Abundance. Germain Pilon’s too tearful Mater Dolorosa (painted
terra-cotta) close by, from the Sainte Chapelle, indicates the
beginnings of modern French taste in church furniture. His recumbent
tomb of Valentine Balbiani, on the other hand, is admirable as
portraiture; but the genius of the artist is only fully displayed in the
repulsive figure of the same body seen emaciated in death and
decomposition beneath it. Barthélemy Prieur’s recumbent figure of Anne
de Montmorency shows survival of the older type, doubtless due to the
prejudices of patrons.

Above it is an admirable piece of Renaissance sculpture, by Jean Goujon,
for the decoration of the rood-loft (now removed) in St. Germain
l’Auxerrois. The rare beauty of the existing one at St. Étienne-du-Mont
(by a far inferior artist) enables us to estimate the loss we have
sustained by its disappearance. The Deposition, in the centre, marked by
the highly classical style and secular or almost sensuous beauty of its
Maries, and the anatomical knowledge displayed in its Dead Christ,
should be contrasted with earlier specimens in adjacent rooms. In the
accompanying figures of the four Evangelists, notice how earlier
conceptions of the writers and their attendant symbols have been
altogether modified by a Raphaelesque spirit. You would scarcely notice
the eagle, angel, bull, and lion (compare Sacchi upstairs), unless you
were told to look for them. Germain Pilon’s Agony in the Garden displays
an exactly similar transformation of a traditional subject.

Some interesting works are placed =near the windows=. In the =first= is
a fragment from the pulpit of the Church of the Grands Augustins in
Paris, by Germain Pilon, representing Paul Preaching at Athens. The bald
head and long beard of the Apostle of the Gentiles are traditional; the
figure is modelled on Italian precedents; here again the female auditors
are introduced entirely in the classical spirit, and treated with
Renaissance love for exuberant femininity. Nominally sacred, such works
as this are really nothing more than sensuous and decorative in their
tendencies. The Church accepted them because they were supposed to be
artistic. Other fragments opposite exemplify the same baneful tendency,
pregnant with decadence. Christ and the Woman of Samaria (with her
classical urn) is a subject we have already met with elsewhere: here, it
is much permeated by Renaissance feeling. The Preaching of St. John
Baptist gives the artist an opportunity for introducing two attractive
female listeners. In the =second window=, the contrast between the
comparatively archaic St. Eloi from Dijon, and the Nymphs of the school
of Jean Goujon, is sufficiently abrupt to point its own moral. Germain
Pilon’s Entombment may be instructively compared with Jean Goujon’s and
others; the Magdalen here is an admirable figure. Glance across from one
to the other and note the resemblance. Even at this late date, how close
is the similarity in the attitudes of the chief actors! They almost
correspond figure for figure:—Joseph of Arimathæa, and then Nicodemus,
supporting the dead Christ; next, the fainting Madonna, in the arms of
one of the Maries; then, the Magdalen at the foot, with her box of
ointment, and the mourning women; all stand in the same relations in the
two reliefs. If you will compare both paintings and sculptures in this
manner, you will learn how much the artist borrowed in each case from
predecessors, and exactly how much is his own invention. Opposite the
Entombment are other Nymphs of the school of Jean Goujon, and a
characteristic transitional figure of a Donor and his Family, showing a
distinct attempt to treat an old motive by the new methods; L the Donor,
kneeling, introduced by his patron, St. John Baptist; R, two ladies of
his family, introduced by a sainted bishop and an abbot; near them,
their children, kneeling, but with some genial allowance for the sense
of tedium in infancy; in the background, Renaissance architecture, with
quaint bas-reliefs of Samson carrying off the gates of Gaza; the
Resurrection and Appearance to the Apostles; the Supper at Emmaus; and
Jonah emerging from the mouth of the whale. Works like these, often
artistically of less importance, nevertheless not infrequently throw
useful light on the nature of the conditions under which the sculptor
worked—the trammels of tradition, the struggle to wriggle out of the
commands of a patron, who desires to see reproduced the types of his
childhood. The =third window= contains some charming but mutilated
fragments from the tomb of the Duc de Guise: more figures by Germain
Pilon; and a thoroughly Renaissance Awakening of the Nymphs, attributed
(with little doubt) to Frémin Roussell. Germain Pilon’s good bust of
Charles IX strikes the keynote of the king’s vain and heartless
character. The baby Christ, by Richier, though evidently suffering from
water on the brain, is otherwise a charming early French conception of
soft innocence and infantile grace. Notice, above this, a somewhat
transitional Pietà, placed as a votive offering (like so many other
things) in the (old) church of Ste. Geneviève, with the kneeling donor
represented as looking on, after the earlier fashion. The Judgment of
Daniel, attributed to Richier, though splendid in execution, forms an
example of the more crowded and almost confused composition which was
beginning to destroy the unity and simplicity of plastic art. As a
whole, the works in this room should be attentively and closely studied,
illustrating as they do the one exquisite moment of perfect fruition,
when the French Renaissance burst suddenly into full flower, to be
succeeded almost at once by painful degeneracy and long slow decadence.
I would specially recommend you to compare closely the more classical
works of this room with those in the adjoining Salle de Michel Ange in
order to recognise the distinctively French tone as compared with the
Italian. The importance of these various rooms, of both nationalities,
to a comprehension of Paris and French art in general, cannot be
over-estimated. By their light alone can you fully understand the fabric
of the Louvre itself, the Luxembourg, the Renaissance churches, the
tombs at St. Denis, and above all, Fontainebleau, St. Germain,
Versailles itself, and the entire development of architecture and
sculpture from François I^{er} to the Revolutionary epoch. Especially
should you always bear in mind the importance of works from the Château
de Gaillon (early) and Château d’Anet (full French Renaissance).

In the =vestibule=, as you pass out, notice a copy in bronze, probably
by Barthélemy Prieur, of the antique Huntress Diana, the original of
which we have already noticed in the Classical Gallery. It helps to
accentuate the direct dependence of French Renaissance sculpture upon
the classical model as well as upon that of the contemporary Italians.
Observe that while each of these arts is based upon the antique, it
necessarily follows the antique models _then and there_ known to it—not
the “Venus of Milo” discovered in 1820, or the figures from Olympia of
quite recent discovery.

                          3. MODERN SCULPTURE.

This collection is entered by a separate door in the Cour du Louvre,
marked E on Baedeker’s plan. It takes up the development of French
plastic art at the point where the last collection leaves off. It is,
however, of vastly inferior interest, and should only be visited by
those who have time to spare from more important subjects. The decline
which affected French painting after the age of the early Renaissance
had even more disastrous effects in the domain of sculpture. I will not,
therefore, enumerate individual works in these rooms, but will touch
briefly on the characteristics of the various epochs represented in the
various galleries.

The =Salle de Puget= contains sculptures of the age of Louis XIII and
XIV, for the most part theatrical, fly-away, and mannered. They are
grandiose with the grandiosity of the school of Bernini; unreal and
over-draperied. Like contemporary painting, too, they represent official
or governmental art, with a courtier-like tendency to flattery of
monarchy, general and particular. A feeble pomposity, degenerating into
bombast, strikes their keynote. Few works in this room need detain the
visitor.

The =Salle de Coyzevox= continues the series, with numerous
portrait-busts of the celebrities of the age of Louis XIV, mostly
insipid and banal. The decline goes on with accelerated rapidity.

The =Salle des Coustou=, mostly Louis XV, marks the lowest depth of the
degradation of plastic art, here reduced to the level of Palais Royal
trinkets. It represents the worst type of 18th century handicraft, and
hardly contains a single passable statue. Its best works are
counterparts in marble of Boucher and Greuze, but without even the touch
of meretricious art which colour and cleverness add to the craft of
those boudoir artists. Few of them rise to the level of good Dresden
china. The more ambitious lack even that mild distinction.

The =Salle de Houdon=, of the Revolutionary epoch, shows a slight
advance upon the preceding (parallel to the later work of Greuze), and
is interesting from its portrait-busts of American statesmen and French
republican leaders. Some of the ideal works, even, have touches of
grace, and a slightly severer taste begins to make itself apparent. The
classical period is foreshadowed.

The =Salle de Chaudet=, of the First Empire, answers in sculpture to the
School of David in painting. It is cold, dignified, reserved, and
pedantic. It imitates (not always at all successfully) the antique
ideals. The best works in this room are Canova’s; but the intention is
almost always better than the execution. A sense of chilly correctness
distinguishes these blameless academic works from the natural grace and
life of antique Greek sculptors. They lie under the curse which pursues
revivals.

The =Salle de Rude= contains plastic work of the Restoration, the July
Monarchy, and the Second Empire. It answers roughly to the romantic
School of Delaroche in painting. Several of these almost contemporary
works have high merit, though few of them aim at that reposeful
expression which is proper to sculpture. Some, indeed, trench upon the
domain of painting in their eager effort to express passing emotion and
action. Picturesqueness and sensuousness are their prevailing features.
Nevertheless, the room, as a whole, exhibits the character of a real
renaissance, such as it is, from the mediocrity of the last century, and
the bleak propriety of the classical revival. Too many of the works,
however, are aimed at the taste of the Boulevards. They foreshadow that
feeling which makes too much modern sculpture attempt to catch the
public by flinging away everything that is proper to the art. The desire
for novelty is allowed to override the sense of beauty and of just
proportion: repose is lost; dignity and serenity give place to
cleverness of imitation and apt catching at the momentary expression.

                     III. THE SMALLER COLLECTIONS.

The =other collections= at the Louvre appeal for the most part rather to
the =specialist= than to the general public. They are for workers, not
for sight-seers. The =Egyptian Museum=, for example, to the L as you
enter the Cour du Louvre by the main entrance, contains, perhaps, the
finest collection of its sort in all Europe. You must, of course, at
least walk through it—especially if you have not seen the British
Museum. The objects, however, are sufficiently indicated for casual
visitors by means of the labels; they need not be enumerated. The
opposite wing, to the R as you enter, contains the =Assyrian
Collection=, inferior on the whole, especially in its bas-reliefs, to
that in the British Museum. Beyond it, again, to the left, lie a group
of rooms devoted to the =intermediate region= between the sphere of
=Assyrian and Greek art=. These rooms ought certainly to be examined by
any who wish to form some idea of the origin and development of Hellenic
culture. The first two rooms of the suite contain =Phœnician=
works,—important because the Phœnicians were the precursors of the
Greeks in navigation and commerce in the Mediterranean, and because
early Greek art was largely based on Phœnician imitations of Assyrian
and Egyptian work, or on actual Egyptian and Assyrian objects imported
into Hellas by Phœnician merchants. These Semitic seafarers had no
indigenous art of their own; but they acted as brokers between East and
West, and they skilfully copied and imitated the principal art-products
of the two great civilisations on whose confines they lay, though often
without really understanding their true import. The Phœnicians were thus
the pioneers of civilisation in the Eastern Mediterranean.

=Room= IV, beyond these two, contains more Phœnician antiquities, and
others from =Cyprus=, an island inhabited by Greeks or half Greeks, but
one in which this imported Oriental culture earliest took root and
produced native imitations. Examine these objects as leading up to, and
finally correcting, the _archaic_ Greek work ill represented by a few
objects in the Salle de Phidias. The =Salle de Milet=, beyond, contains
Greek antiquities from =Asia Minor=, some of which indicate transition
from the Assyrian to the Hellenic type. Examine these from the point of
view of development. The reliefs from the temple of Assos in Mysia show
an early stage in the evolution of Asiatic Greek art. Compare them with
the archaic objects in the Salle de Phidias. It must be borne in mind
that civilised art entered Greece from Assyria, by way of Phœnicia, the
Hittites, Lydia, Phrygia, the Ionian cities in Asia Minor, and the
Islands of the Archipelago. These intermediate rooms should therefore be
studied in detail from this point of view, dates and places being
carefully noted, as illustrating the westward march of art from Nineveh
to Athens. The last hall of the suite, the =Salle de Magnésie=, on the
other hand, contains works from =Ephesus= of a late Greek period,
representing rather a slight barbaric deterioration than a transitional
stage. These collections, most important to the student of Hellenic
culture, may be neglected by hurried or casual visitors.

The =Salle Judaïque=, to the right, under the stairs, contains the
scanty remains of the essentially inartistic Jewish people, interesting
chiefly from the point of view of Biblical history. The famous and
much-debated =Moabite Stone=, recording the battles of King Mesa of Moab
with the Jews in B.C. 896, is here preserved. It is believed to be the
earliest existing specimen of alphabetic as opposed to hieroglyphic or
ideographic writing.

There is, however, one group of objects in the Louvre, too seldom
visited, which no one should omit to inspect if time permits him. This
is the admirable =**=Dieulafoy Collection of =Persian Antiquities=. To
arrive at it, go to the front of the Old Louvre, facing St. Germain
l’Auxerrois, as for the previously noted series. Enter by the principal
portal, and turn to the R, through the Assyrian collection, whose winged
bulls and reliefs of kings you may now inspect in passing, if you have
not done so previously. Mount the staircase at the end, and, at the
landing on the top, turn to your L, when you will find yourself at once
face to face with the collection.

The =First Room= contains merely Græco-Babylonian objects (of a
different collection) which need only be inspected by those whose
leisure is ample. They illustrate chiefly the effect of Hellenic
influence on Asiatic models. On the entrance wall of the =Second Room=
is the magnificent =*Frieze of Archers= of the Immortal Guard, in
encaustic tiles, with cuneiform inscriptions, from the Throne Room of
Darius I. This splendid work, mere fragment though it is of the
original, gives in its colour and decorative detail some idea of the
splendour of the Palace of the Persian monarchs. The colours are those
still so prevalent in Persian art, showing a strong predominance of
blues and greens, with faint tones of yellow, over red and purple, which
latter, indeed, are hardly present. Round the rest of the walls are
ranged decorative fragments from the Palace of Artaxerxes Mnemon.
Opposite the archers is another magnificent frieze of =angry lions=,
from the summit of the portals in the last-named palace. The next
compartment of the same room contains the =*Base of a Column= and a
=**Capital= of the same, also from the Palace of Artaxerxes Mnemon:—two
figures of bulls supporting between them the enormous wooden rafters of
the ceiling. These gigantic and magnificent figures form perhaps the
most effective and adequate supports for a great weight to be found in
any school of architecture.

The next room contains the admirable =reconstruction= of the Palace,
when entire, showing the position on the walls of either pylon, and the
manner in which the columns supported the colossal roof. If, from
inspection of this model, we return to the base and capitals themselves,
we shall be able to judge what must have been the magnificent and
gigantic scale of this Titanic building, the effect of which must have
thrown even the Temple of Karnac into the shade. At the side are a
=lion= and =winged bull=, which help to complete the mental picture.
This collection, unique in Europe, serves to give one an idea of the
early =Persian civilisation= which can nowhere else be obtained, and
which helps to correct the somewhat one-sided idea derived from the
accounts of Greek historians. On no account should you miss it.

The =minor art-objects= of the Louvre, though of immense value and
interest in themselves, may be largely examined by those who have the
time in the light of their previous work at Cluny. The collection of
=drawings=, one of the finest in Europe, is mostly interesting to
artists. That of =smaller Mediæval and Renaissance Objects= contains
works closely similar to those at Cluny, including admirable
=ivory-carvings=, fine =pottery= (the best of which is that by
=Palissy=, and the =Henri II ware=), together with Oriental faïence,
bronzes, etc. The =Greek Vases=, again, of which this Museum contains a
magnificent collection, are mainly interesting to Hellenic specialists.
For the casual visitor, it will suffice to examine one or two of them.
The =Etruscan Antiquities= give a good idea of the civilisation of this
ancient race, from which, both in earlier and later times, almost all
the art, poetry, and science of Italy has proceeded. Though entirely
based upon Greek models, the Etruscan productions betray high artistic
faculty and great receptive powers of intellect. Among the =minor Greek
works=, none are more interesting than the beautiful little terra-cotta
=figures= from =Tanagra= in Bœotia, which cast an unexpected light on
one side of Greek art and culture. Examine them as supplementing the
collection of antique sculpture. These =figurines=, as they are called,
were produced in immense quantities, chiefly in Bœotia, both for
household decoration and to be buried with the dead. They were first
moulded or cast in clay, but they were afterwards finished by hand, with
the addition of just such accessories or modifications as we have seen
to obtain in the case of the statues in the antique gallery. Finally
they were gracefully and tastefully . Nothing better indicates
the universality of high art-feeling among the ancient Greeks than the
extraordinary variety, fancy, and beauty of these cheap objects of
every-day decoration; while the unexpected novelty given by the
slightest additions or alterations in what (being moulded) is
essentially the same figure throws a flood of light upon the methods of
plastic art in higher departments. Look out for these exquisite little
figures as you pass through the (inner) rooms on the South Side of the
old Cour du Louvre, on the First Floor. Most of them will be found in
Room L of Baedeker’s plan. Almost every visitor is equally surprised and
charmed by their extremely modern tone of feeling. They are alive and
human. In particular, the =playfulness= of Greek art is here admirably
exemplified. Many of them have touches of the most graceful humour.

Here, again, do not suppose that because I do not specify, these minor
works of art are of little importance. If you have time, examine them
all: but you must do so by individual care and study.

The neighbouring =Salle des Bijoux= contains beautiful antique
jewellery; do not miss the very graceful gold =tiara= presented to the
Scythian King Saitaphernes by the Greek city of Olbia in the Crimea—a
lovely work of the 3rd century B.C. Its authenticity has been disputed,
but not its beauty.

The =Galerie d’Apollon= contains, among many objects of considerable
interest, the Reliquary which encloses the Arm of Charlemagne—who,
having been canonized, was duly entitled to such an honour. The
Reliquary of St. Henry, and the Chasse of St. Louis are also well worthy
of inspection. Notice, too, the Hand of Justice, used at the coronation
of the French Kings. But all these objects can only be properly studied,
by those who wish to investigate them, with the aid of the official
catalogue. I shall recur at greater length to a few of them after our
return from St. Denis.

When you have learnt Paris well, go often to and fro between these rooms
of the Louvre, the Mediæval and Renaissance Sculpture, the halls at
Cluny (particularly Room VI, with its French architectural work), and
the older churches, such as St. Germain-des-Prés, Notre-Dame, St. Denis,
etc. Thus only can you build up and consolidate your conceptions.

                 *        *        *        *        *

A special small collection, to which part of a day may well be devoted,
is the =Early Christian Sculpture=, to which I have already briefly
alluded, in the first room to the R as you enter the Renaissance
Galleries in the Cour du Louvre.

The centre of the hall is occupied by a good Early Christian
=sarcophagus=, with a cover not its own, sufficiently described as to
origin on the label. The front towards the window represents the True
Vine, surrounding the “X P,” which form the first two letters of the
name of Christ in Greek, inscribed in a solar circle, and with the Alpha
and Omega on either side of it. This figure, repeated on various works
in this room in slightly different shapes, is known as a =Labarum=. It
forms, after Constantine (who adopted it as his emblem and that of the
Christianized Empire), the most frequent symbol on early Christian
monuments. Note modern reproductions on the frieze of this apartment.
Its variations are numerous. At the ends, are other True Vines and a
better Labarum, with a Star of Bethlehem. The back has the same devices
repeated.

Wall nearest the entrance, several =inscriptions=, among which notice
the frequency of the Labarum, with the two birds pecking at it,—a
common Early Christian Symbol. Below them, good early =sarcophagus=. On
its end, remote from window, Daniel in the Lions’ Den, a traditional
representation, of which an extremely rude barbaric degradation may be
noticed, high up, near the door which leads into the Della Robbia room,
adjacent. In Early Christian art certain subjects from the Old and New
Testaments became conventionalised, and were repeated on numerous works;
of which this scene of Daniel is an example. Observe here that Old
Testament subjects are frequent; while Madonnas are rare, and saints
almost unknown. Further on, on the ground, sarcophagus representing
=Christ with the Twelve Apostles=. The treatment here, in spite of
slight Oriental tendencies (compare the Mithra reliefs) is on the whole
purely classical. Now, the great interest in this room is to watch the
way in which classical styles and figures passed slowly from pagan types
into Christian, and again from the debased classical types of the later
Empire into those of Romanesque or Gothic barbarity. As an example of
this surviving pagan element, see, on the wall to the R of this
sarcophagus, =Elijah taken up to Heaven= in a chariot of fire, and
leaving his mantle to Elisha. Here, the Jordan is represented, in truly
pagan style, by a river-god reclining on an urn and holding water-weeds.
Such river-gods were the conventional classical way of representing a
river (see the Tiber here, and the Nile of the Vatican, reproduced in
the Vestibule): and Christian artists at first so represented the
Jordan, as in the Baptism of Christ (in mosaic) in the Baptistery of the
Orthodox at Ravenna.

Above the sarcophagus of Christ and the Twelve Apostles is an extremely
beautiful =altar-front= from the abbey of St. Denis (read label) with a
cross and palm trees, the True Vine interlacing it, and the
characteristic wave-pattern, which you may note on many other works in
this room. This is the most beautiful piece of early Romanesque or
intermediate Christian carving in this collection.

In the centre of the Elijah wall, below, a sarcophagus with a very
Oriental figure of the =Good Shepherd=—a frequent early Christian
device. Compare this figure with the plaster cast of a similar statue
from Rome, near the Della Robbia doorway. Compare the marked Orientalism
of face, form, and foot-gear, with the Mithra reliefs. Above it, Scenes
from the Life of Christ:—Blessing the Children, Christ and Peter, the
Woman of Samaria, etc.; treatment quite classical. Still higher,
sarcophagus-front of Christ and the Twelve Apostles; workmanship
becoming decadent; architecture, classical in the centre, passing at the
sides into early Romanesque or Constantinian and Diocletianesque, as in
some of the other examples in this room. L of it, Abraham’s Sacrifice of
Isaac, with rather late architecture.

All the other objects in this room should be carefully examined, and
their place of origin noted. The symbols and the frequent Oriental tinge
should also be observed. Likewise, the absence of several ideas and
symbols which come in later. Note that there are no crucifixions,
sufferings, or martyrdoms; the tone is joyous. Many of the minor objects
have their own value. Thus, the fish, by the entrance door, is a common
Early Christian symbol, because the Greek word ΙΧΘΥΣ [Greek: ICHTHYS]
formed the initials of the sentence, “Jesus Christ, Son of God, the
Saviour”; and its sacred significance is here still further emphasised
by the superimposed cross—a symbol, however, which does _not_ belong to
the very earliest ages of Christendom. So, on the opposite wall of the
window, notice the little Daniel in the Den of Lions, and the youthful
beardless Christ with a halo. The longer you study these interesting
remains, the more will you see in them.

Those who have had their interest aroused in Early Christian art from
the examination of this room will find the subject best pursued at Rome
(Catacombs and Lateran) and Ravenna, where we can trace the long decline
from classical freedom to Byzantine stiffness and Gothic barbarism, as
well as the slow upward movement from the depths of the early Romanesque
style to the precursors of the Renaissance. For the chronological
pursuit of this enticing subject the best order of visiting is Rome,
Ravenna, Bologna, Pisa, Siena, Florence. For a list of the extensive
literature of the subject, see Dean Farrar’s _Christ in Art_.




                                   IV
                      THE NORTH BANK (RIVE DROITE)


    [PARIS, =north of the river=,—which is for most purposes the
    practical Paris of business and pleasure (and of the ordinary
    tourist) at the present day—has grown by slow degrees from
    small beginnings. The various rings of its growth are roughly
    marked on the Map of Historical Paris. The wall of =Philippe
    Auguste= started from near the easternmost end of the existing
    Louvre, and, after bending inland so as just to enclose the
    Halles Centrales, reached the river again near the upper end of
    the Île St. Louis. It thus encircled the district immediately
    opposite the primitive islands: and this innermost region, the
    Core of the Right Bank, still contains most of the older
    buildings and places of interest N. of the river. =Étienne
    Marcel’s= walls took a slightly wider sweep, as shown on the
    Map; and by the time of =Louis XIII=. the town had reached the
    limit of the =Great Boulevards=, which, with their southern
    prolongation, still enclose almost everything of historical or
    artistic interest in modern Paris. The fact that the kings had
    all their palaces in this northern district was partly a cause,
    partly perhaps an effect, of its rapid predominance. The town
    was now spreading mainly northward.

    The increase of the royal power brought about by Richelieu, and
    the consequent stability and internal peace of the kingdom,
    combined with the complete change in methods of defence which
    culminated in Vauban, enabled Louis XIV to =pull down the walls=
    of Paris altogether, and to lay out the space covered by his
    predecessor’s fortifications in that series of broad curved
    avenues which still bears from this circumstance the name of
    Boulevards (“bulwarks” or ramparts). The original line so named,
    from the Bastille to the Madeleine, is ordinarily spoken of to
    this day simply as “the Boulevard.” All the others called by the
    same have borrowed the title, mostly at a very recent date, from
    this older girdle. Gradually, the =Faubourgs= which gathered
    beyond the line of the inner city, as well as beyond the
    artificial southern prolongation of the Boulevards by which
    Louis continued his circle, with true French thoroughness of
    system, on the southern bank, have entirely coalesced with the
    central town, and at last enormously outgrown it. Nevertheless,
    to the end, the Paris of Louis XIV continues to enclose almost
    all that is vital in the existing city. Especially is =Paris
    within the Great Boulevards= to this day the Paris of =business
    and finance=: it includes the Bourse, the Banque de France, the
    Bourse de Commerce, the chief markets, the Post Office, the
    Ministries of Finance, Marine, and Justice, the Hôtel de Ville,
    numerous Government Offices, the principal wholesale warehouses,
    financial firms, and agencies, and almost all the best shops,
    hotels, banks, and business houses.

    Even the inner circle itself, again, _within_ the Boulevards,
    has been largely transformed by modern alterations, especially
    in that extensive reorganisation of the city inaugurated under
    Napoleon III by Baron Haussmann. In the brief itinerary which
    follows, and in which I have endeavoured to give the reader in
    two short walks or drives some general idea of the development
    of the Right Bank, with its chief points of interest, I shall
    indicate roughly the various ages of the great thoroughfares,
    and note with needful conciseness the causes which at various
    times led to their construction.]


                     A. THE CORE OF THE RIGHT BANK

Start from the =Place de la Concorde=, and walk eastward along the Rue
de Rivoli, in the direction of the Louvre. (If you like, the top of an
omnibus will suffice as far as the Hôtel de Ville.) The Place de la
Concorde itself, though old in essence, is, in its present form, quite a
modern creation, having been laid out in 1854 under the Second Empire,
when it was decorated with the 8 seated stone figures, wearing mural
crowns, and representing the chief cities of France (including
Strasbourg). The Luxor obelisk (age of Rameses II) was erected in the
Place, in its simpler form, by Louis Philippe, in 1836. The two handsome
large buildings on the N side are still earlier in date, age of Louis
XV: one of them is occupied by the Ministère de la Marine—that nearest
the Tuileries.

Proceed along the =Rue de Rivoli=, driven through this part of Paris by
Napoleon I. He was a Corsican, and admired his native Italian arcaded
streets, which he transplanted to Paris in this thoroughfare, and in the
Rues Castiglione, and des Pyramides, all of which commemorate his
victories. The form, however, is ill-adapted to the North, being
draughty and sunless: and Frenchmen have never cared for the Rue de
Rivoli, which is the street of strangers and especially of Englishmen.
The native Parisian has always preferred to sun himself on the
Boulevards. To your R are the =Gardens of the Tuileries=, still much as
they were laid out under Louis XIV by Le Nôtre, in the formal style
which well accorded with that artificial epoch. They contrast markedly
with the newer portion, further E, on the site of the Palace, laid out
by the present Republic in something like the English manner.

L, as you proceed, lies the Rue Castiglione, another of Napoleon’s
arcaded streets, leading up to the Place and Colonne Vendôme. R, a
little further on, you come abreast of the Louvre, the first Pavillon
being part of the connecting wing of the Tuileries. L, the Rue des
Pyramides, again Napoleonic: and further L, opens up the =Place du
Palais Royal=, with the façade of the Palace showing behind it. This
part, marked Conseil d’Etat, is the original building (much restored and
rebuilt): it was erected by Richelieu for his own occupation, and bore
at first the name of Palais-Cardinal. Occupied after his death by the
widow of Louis XIII, it took its present name: and was later the
residence of the notorious Regent, Philippe d’Orléans, and of his
scheming grandson, Philippe Égalité. The garden behind, with an arcade
of shops, now half deserted and uninteresting, which also bears the name
of Palais Royal (almost to the exclusion of the original building) was
laid out and let in this curious way by the Regent, as a commercial
speculation. As a relic of the past, it is worth ten minutes’ visit,
some time in passing.

Continue along the Rue de Rivoli, eastward, till you reach the Rue du
Louvre. So far, you have been passing through the Paris of Louis XIII,
Louis XIV, and the Empire; but now you are abreast with the wall of
Philippe Auguste, and enter =the Core of the Right Bank=. Old as this
part is, however, by origin, few of its buildings are mediæval; almost
everything has been re-made in the Renaissance period. To your R lies
the site of the old _château_ of the Louvre, and opposite it, the
mediæval Church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, one of the few remaining,
which thus announces your arrival in early Paris from the town of
Napoleon and François I^{er}. (The Rue du Louvre itself is of very
recent origin, and leads to the L to the new Post Office.) Still going
east, you have on your R the tower of St. Jacques, once another fine
mediæval church, now demolished. (Near it, on the L, opens out the
modern Boulevard de Sébastopol, forming part of the great trunk line
from N to S, which was a principal feature in the Haussmannizing plan.
It is known, further N, as the Boulevard de Strasbourg, and S as the
Boulevard du Palais, and the Boulevard St. Michel.) Keep on till you
come to the =Hôtel de Ville=, the centre of the town on the North Bank.

The old Hôtel de Ville, which this building replaces, was erected in
1533, under François I^{er}, by an Italian architect, in emulation of
the similar buildings in Italy and the Low Countries. It was afterwards
largely added to at various times, and played an important part in the
history of Paris. This first Hôtel de Ville, however (a handsome
Renaissance building), was unfortunately burned down during the internal
struggles of 1871. The present edifice was erected shortly after, in
much the same style, but on a larger scale; a walk round the =exterior=
will help to piece out the visitor’s conception of Renaissance Paris.
Note here once more the _pavillons_ at the angles, and other features
which recall the Louvre. A visit to the interior is quite unnecessary
for any save those hardened sight-seers who desire to inspect the
decorations and arrangements of purely contemporary buildings. The sole
reason for coming to the Hôtel de Ville at all, indeed, is the
desirability of recognising its historic site, and understanding that
here, by the hall of the old Prévôt des Marchands and the seat of the
revolutionary Commune of Robespierre’s period, you stand at the heart of
La Ville—the Paris of the merchants. The building is occupied by the
Préfet de la Seine—the Department which practically coincides with
Paris. The Place in front of it, now called after the Hôtel itself, is
the old Place de Grève, the famous place of execution under the old
Monarchy,—almost equally conspicuous in the history of the great
Revolution.

Earlier still than the building of François I^{er}, a “Hostel de Ville”
had stood upon the same site, purchased for the purpose by Étienne
Marcel, Prévôt des Marchands, the real founder of the Paris
municipality—to whom, therefore, a bronze equestrian statue has been
erected in the little square facing the river.

The Hôtel de Ville forms a convenient centre from which to begin the
exploration of the core of the northern city. Walk round to the back
(with a second fine _façade_) and, between the two handsome barracks,
you see towering before you the front of the church of

                              St. Gervais.

This is an old church, remodelled: and, unlike most of the churches in
the older part of Paris, it does _not_ commemorate a local saint.
Gervasius and Protasius, to whom it is dedicated, were two very doubtful
martyrs of the persecution under Nero, whose names, bodies, and
resting-place were miraculously and conveniently revealed to St. Ambrose
at Milan (A.D. 387) at the exact moment when he needed relics for the
church he had built, and which is now dedicated to him—the most
interesting building in that beautiful city. St. Germain, bishop of
Paris, brought back some relics of these saints in 560: and thenceforth
St. Gervais and St. Protais became great objects of cult, like St.
Stephen, in the Frankish city. (They are frequent subjects of French
pictures in the 17th century.) This church, dedicated to them, probably
occupies the site of one built by St. Germain in their honour. It was
begun in 1212, added to and completely altered in 1420, and finally
remodelled in front in the later Renaissance or classic manner. Most of
the building as it stands is late Gothic; but you must go to the side to
see it: the incongruous classic _façade_, illustrating the Doric, Ionic,
and Corinthian orders, was added by Debrosse in 1616. Notice the
coldness and bareness of this pseudo-classical front, as compared with
the rich detail of the earlier mediæval exteriors. Almost the only
breaks are the figures, on either side, of the two martyrs to contain
whose relics the church was built. The sides, enclosed in houses which
go close up to the wall, show the earlier architecture. Most churches in
Paris were so walled up during the 17th century. The tower, and the
aspect of the streets at the side, are very characteristic of a set of
old effects now seldom visible.

The =interior= is chiefly noticeable for its great height, and for its
interesting Late Gothic architecture. The patron saints, with their
palms of martyrdom, stand on either side of the High Altar. The chapels
at the S side should be examined separately: in one is a good stained
glass window by Pinaigrier (restored) of the Judgment of Solomon. Notice
to what saint each is dedicated. The beautiful flamboyant Lady Chapel,
behind the choir, contains good modern frescoes, illustrating the mystic
titles of the Blessed Virgin, whose history is shown in the stained
glass of the windows, also by Pinaigrier, but very much restored. These
scenes the reader will now, I trust, be able to follow for himself—the
birth, education, marriage, etc., of the Virgin, with the events of her
life as recorded in the Gospels, and her death and assumption. Good
Pietà (Christ mourned by angels) as you return on the N side, with some
excellent paintings—Martyrdom of St. Juliet, etc. I do not enlarge, as
I hope the reader is now able to follow the lead I have given him in
previous churches.

From St. Gervais, walk a little way along the N side of the church,
enclosed in its curious envelope of houses, till you come to the Mairie
of the IVth Arrondissement. Then, turn up into the Rue de la Verrerie,
along which continue till you reach the side of the church of =St.
Merri=, almost hidden from view by a wall of houses. The _façade_ is
round the corner, in the Rue St. Martin. This is one of the few
remaining mediæval churches in this district. St. Merri (Abbot Mederic
of Autun) was a (historical) saint of the 7th century, local and early.
He had a hermitage on this spot (then in the woods), and was finally
buried here. The shrine over his tomb became the centre of a Parisian
cult, and several churches rose successively above his body. The present
one was not built till 1520; it is nevertheless a good late Gothic
building. But notice the decline from the purity of Notre-Dame and the
exquisite lightness of St. Louis’s chapel. Handsome flamboyant doorway,
one mass of sculpture: statues of 12 Apostles, with symbols of their
martyrdoms, all restored, after being destroyed in the Revolution. The
=interior= is interesting, but spoilt in 17th century: good stained
glass, badly injured. I bring you here mainly for the sake of the
reminiscences.

Continue straight on through characteristic old streets, to the modern
Boulevard de Sébastopol, which cuts right through the core of Paris.
Cross it and take the first turn to the left (as you walk northward)
observing the marked contrast of the modern thoroughfare to the narrow
streets we have just been traversing. Go along the Rue de la Reynie, and
continue for one block, till you see, a little obliquely to your right,
the

                         Square des Innocents.

In the centre rises the =Fontaine des Innocents=, designed by Pierre
Lescot, with beautiful and appropriate sculptured figures of nymphs,
bearing urns of water, by Jean Goujon. The fountain originally stood
with its back to the Church of the Innocents, demolished in 1783. It has
been re-erected here, with a fourth side added (to the S), and has been
much altered by the addition of a base and cupola. Nevertheless, it
still remains a beautiful and typical example of French Renaissance
architecture and sculpture. The coquettish reliefs, indeed, are not
perhaps more lovely than those which adorn Jean Goujon’s portion of the
Louvre; but they are nearer to the eye, and the scale enables one to
judge of the entire effect more truthfully. The other exquisite nymphs
which we saw in the Renaissance Sculpture at the Louvre, were originally
part of the same fountain. The pretty little square in which the
fountain stands is characteristic of the many democratic public gardens
of Paris.

Proceed diagonally across the square, and continue along the North side
of the Halles Centrales, till the east end of

                              St. Eustache

with its characteristic French _chevet_, comes in view before you. At
the Pointe St. Eustache, as you cross the roadway, look up the vistas of
un-Haussmannized Paris, again contrasting vividly with the broad Rue de
Turbigo, which runs hence to the Place de la République. Do not enter at
the first door at which you arrive—the one in the _chevet_—a rather
good one—but continue along the South side of the church, observing as
you pass the beautiful transept, with fine rose window, noble
Renaissance portal, and a stag’s head with the crucifix (emblem of St.
Eustace) surmounting the gable. Go on round the corner to the gaunt,
bare, lumbering, and unimposing late Renaissance or classical _façade_.
In this you see the worst aspect of the decadent Renaissance
architecture of Louis XIV—no saints, no archways. The door to the R
gives access to the =interior=. In any other town but Paris, so splendid
a building, rivalling many cathedrals, would attract numerous visitors.
Here, it is hardly noticed. This is the church of the “Dames de la
Halle” or market-women, who may often be observed in it.

We have already seen in brief at Cluny the main elements of the story of
=St. Eustace=, the saint who was converted by the apparition of the
Christ between the horns of the stag he was pursuing. Though not a local
martyr, St. Eustace early obtained great consideration in Paris. But the
first church here was one to St. Agnes: look out for memorials of her
throughout the building. St. Eustace had practically supplanted her as
early as 1223: his church, after many enlargements, was finally pulled
down under François I^{er}, and the present splendid Renaissance edifice
erected in its place in 1532; completed in 1640. It is a strangely
picturesque and unique building. St. Eustache, indeed, displays
Renaissance architecture in =a transitional state=, endeavouring vainly
to free itself from the traditions of the Gothic. In general plan, and
in the combination of all its parts, it is in essence a Gothic
cathedral; but its arches are round, and its detail and decorative work
are all conceived in the classical spirit of the Renaissance. If you
wish to see the difference between such a church and one in which
developed Renaissance methods have finally triumphed, you must visit St.
Sulpice.

Note three things about St. Eustache: (1) it replaces a church to St.
Agnes, who is still one of its two patronesses; (2) it is the great
=musical= church of Paris; (3) it is the church of the markets.

Immediately on entering, stand in the centre of the nave, and look up
the church towards the choir and _chevet_. The enormous size of the
building will at once strike you. Notice, too, the tall, round arches of
the nave and aisles, the triforium above them (best seen from the
aisles), and, higher still, the clerestory rising above the
aisle-vaulting. The proportions are admirable. Observe also the roof,
essentially Gothic in plan, though with an incongruous substitution of
round for pointed arches. But note that all these quasi-Gothic
constructive features are combined with =classical columns= and
pilasters of the three great orders—Doric, Ionic,
Corinthian—superimposed, and with such Renaissance detail as masks,
cherubs, and other later decorative features.

Now walk up the =R aisle=. Everything in this church is, of course,
comparatively modern, but still rich in symbolism. Most of the chapels
have their names inscribed upon them—an excellent feature. The first,
containing Franciscan Saints, has a good modern stained-glass window,
representing the Saints and Patrons of the Order—St. Francis, St.
Louis, etc. Observe the frescoes in the various chapels, and note their
applicability to the saints to whom they are dedicated. I need not now
enlarge upon this point. For example, the chapel of the Souls in
Purgatory has a relief of Christ bound to the pillar—_His_
purgatory—(a portion of it is preserved here) and a fresco representing
mourning souls below, with triumphant ones in heaven. Observe from this
point the beautiful Renaissance detail of the aisles and of the vaulting
in the ambulatory, or passage behind the choir. Do not overlook the
chapels of St. Agnes (co-patroness) and St. Cecilia, the inventress of
the organ and patroness of music. The =transepts= are very short, but
are decorated with good rose-windows and other excellent semi-Gothic
detail. Walk round the =ambulatory=, noticing as you go the various
chapels with their polychromatic decoration and their appropriate
frescoes. Thus, that of St. Anne contains a representation of the Saint
educating her daughter the Virgin. Note also on your L as you go the
delicate work of the choir-screen, and the excellent vaulting and
decoration of the lofty =choir=. The Lady Chapel behind the choir is not
wholly pleasing. It contains a good 18th century statue of the Virgin
and Child by Pigalle. Observe particularly in the North part of the
ambulatory the chapel of Ste. Geneviève, with scenes from her legend.
The chapel of St. Louis, next it, contains excellent modern frescoes
from his life, by Barrias, and a fine stained-glass window of his
education, with his mother, Blanche of Castille, looking on, beneath a
canopy marked with fleurs-de-lis and the three castles of Castille. One
fresco represents him taking the Crown of Thorns to the Sainte Chapelle.
Observe these little historical reminiscences: they add interest.
Pleasing reliefs in the =North transept= of St. Cecilia and King David,
representing music, for which this church has always been celebrated,
especially on St. Cecilia’s Day and Good Friday. They stand for Psalms
and Hymns—the Jewish and the Christian psalmody. Notice, again, the
figure of St. Agnes with her lamb, between the doorways, a tribute to
the earlier dedication of the building. Above it, good stained-glass
window of the Annunciation, with traditional details. (Do not be content
to notice merely the points to which I call attention, but observe for
yourself as you go the other figures, with their meaning and connection.
To spell it all out is half the pleasure.) Above the Holy Water vessel
in this Transept is a figure of Pope Alexander I, who first sanctioned
the use of Holy Water, accompanied by angels. Beneath it, the baffled
and disappointed demons, fleeing from the consecrated water. The next
chapel contains the =relics of St. Eustace= and his children, martyrs.
It is, perhaps, a little characteristic of modern feeling that the
half-mythical namesake saint of the church should thus be relegated to a
subordinate chapel in the edifice originally erected to his honour. The
pictures are imitated from those in the Catacombs at Rome. Notice, in
particular, the fresco of St. Eustace kneeling before the stag, which
displays between its horns the miraculous image; also, the subsequent
scenes of his legend (for which, see Mrs. Jameson). Beautiful view from
this point of the choir and ambulatory.

Do not leave this interesting building without having examined all its
details. It contains enough to occupy you for several hours, and is rich
in illustrations of modern Catholic sentiment. Even the most tawdry bits
of its modern church furniture become of interest when examined as parts
of a consistent whole, falling into their due place in a great system of
belief and the government of conduct. You have not really understood a
church till you have grasped this connection between its various
members. Ask yourself always, “Why is this here?” and though you may not
always be able to see, the longer you proceed to investigate in this
spirit, the more will the meaning of the whole come home to you. For
example, return to the S Transept and observe the figure of St. Gregory:
he is the musical Father from whom the Gregorian chants take their name,
and as such deserves commemoration in the musical church.

Quitting St. Eustache, you can continue westward a few steps, and then
turn down a short street on the left, which leads you obliquely to a
curious circular building, the Bourse de Commerce. Skirt round this till
you come to its ugly _façade_, and then continue your way into the Rue
du Louvre.

This short walk will have enabled you to take your bearings in the heart
of the old district north of the river. You can prolong it a little, if
you choose, through the town of Louis XIV, by walking northward along
the Rue du Louvre as far as the new Post Office, and then turning to the
left into the little circular =Place des Victoires= with its clumsy
rearing equestrian statue of the Grand Monarch. The Place dates from his
reign, and was designed by Mansart. Originally known as the Place Louis
XIV, it was decorated by an earlier statue of the king, destroyed in the
Revolution. The Restoration replaced it by the present ugly monument. A
few steps to the NW stands the Church of Notre-Dame des Victoires, begun
in 1656, to commemorate the taking of La Rochelle, the Huguenot
stronghold. It is instructive to compare this building of the worst
period with the Mediæval and Renaissance churches you have just been
examining. The Rue Notre-Dame des Victoires will lead you hence up to
the Bourse (adequately viewed from outside), whence the brand-new Rue du
4 Septembre takes you straight back to the Opéra and the centre of
modern Paris.

I have only walked you here through a small part of this older town; but
if you care to explore the interesting district, rich in Renaissance and
even Mediæval buildings, which lies to the east of the Hôtel de Ville,
you cannot do better than take Mr. Augustus Hare’s _Paris_ as your
guide—a valuable book, especially rich in historical reminiscences of
the Renaissance period, the epoch of Louis XIV, and the Great
Revolution. Mr. Hare will lead you to many forgotten nooks of old Paris,
which the modest dimensions of the present handbook are insufficient to
deal with. But I advise you only to explore these less-known byways
after you have examined all the objects of first-rate importance here
enumerated.

The =Musée Carnavalet=, also in this district, you had better defer
visiting till after you have seen the École des Beaux-Arts, in the St.
Germain Quarter, south of the river. It will be noticed later.


                     B. THE OUTER RING OF LOUIS XIV

A second, and doubtless to the reader by this time more familiar walk,
round the =Great Boulevards=, will suffice to give a hasty conception of
the Paris of Louis XIV and his immediate successors. Even if you are
already well acquainted with the route, go over it once more, if only on
the top of an omnibus, at this stage of your investigation, in order to
take your bearings more fully. It must be borne in mind for the purposes
of this walk or ride that in the earlier mediæval period the district
between the Boulevards and the central core consisted, for the most
part, of gardens and fields, among which were interspersed a few rural
monasteries and suburban churches. These last have long since, of
course, become wholly imbedded in modern Paris, but I will note as we
pass a few earlier objects which it may be interesting for those who
have time to diverge and visit.

Start from the Luxor Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde (noting here
and elsewhere the Roman reminiscence of the bronze ships of Paris on the
gas-lamps—as you see them at the Thermes), and walk up the =Rue
Royale=,—the first portion of the great ring of streets which girdles
the city of Louis XIV. The Rue St. Honoré, to your R, was, before the
construction of the Rue de Rivoli and the Champs Elysées, the chief road
which led westward out of ancient Paris. The Porte St. Honoré stood on
this site, where it crossed the barrier by the modern Rue Royale. Beyond
it, the street takes the characteristic name of the Rue du Faubourg St.
Honoré; and all the other streets which cross the girdle similarly
change their name to that of the corresponding Faubourg as they pass
beyond it. These long straggling roads, lined with houses on the
outskirts (Faubourg St. Honoré, Montmartre, St. Denis, du Temple, etc.),
have finally become the chief residential quarters of the city at the
present day.

The handsome classical building in front of us is the
=Madeleine=—(Church of St. Mary Magdalen)—the last stage in the
classical mania which substituted Græco-Roman temples for Christian
churches and other edifices. (See previous stages in St. Paul and St.
Louis, the Sorbonne, the Invalides, the Panthéon, etc.) Begun under
Louis XV, it was not completed till the Restoration. In style it follows
the late Roman variation on the Corinthian-Greek model. Notice, however,
as you approach, that even this Grecian building bears on its purely
classical pediment the stereotyped Parisian subject of the Last
Judgment, with the Angel of the Last Trump, and the good and wicked to R
and L of the Redeemer. Only, in this case, St. Mary Magdalen, under
whose invocation, as the inscription states, the church is dedicated,
kneels by the L side of Christ, imploring mercy for the wicked. Compare
this last term in the treatment of this old conventional portal-relief
with its naïf beginnings at Notre-Dame and St. Denis. It is also worth
while to enter and inspect the chapels, the paintings and sculpture in
which will reveal their dedications. (See also Baedeker.)

The Rue Royale forms the first part of the girdle of Louis XIV. From the
Madeleine onward, we enter that wider part of this girdle which still
distinctively bears the name of the =Boulevard=. To our L, Baron
Haussmann’s quite modern Bd. Malesherbes opens up a vista of the recent
and unsatisfactory Church of St. Augustin—a great ornate
pseudo-Romanesque building, unhappily accommodated to the space at the
architect’s disposal. Proceeding along the Bd. de la Madeleine, and then
the Bd. des Capucines, we arrive in a few minutes at the Place de
l’Opéra, undoubtedly the central nodal point of modern Paris. To our L
stands the great =Opéra House=, erected at vast expense in the gaudy
meretricious style of the Second Empire, and decorated with good, but
too voluptuous modern sculpture. Two new streets branch R and L of it.
Walk round them, and so take the measure of the building. To our R the
=Avenue de l’Opéra= has been run diagonally across the older streets of
Louis XIV’s town, towards the Palais Royal and the Théâtre Français.
This is now one of the finest thoroughfares of the existing town.
Nevertheless, the old Boulevard, above all in this part of its circuit,
remains the centre of Parisian life, thought, and movement. Especially
is it the region of cafés and theatres. Here also the older =Rue de la
Paix=, one of the earliest fine open thoroughfares in Paris, leads to
the irregular octagonal =Place Vendôme=, laid out under Louis XIV, and
said to owe its canted corners to the king’s own personal initiative.
[This Place is a good example of the best domestic architecture of the
Eighteenth Century. Its centre is occupied by the great =bronze column=
(Colonne Vendôme) originally erected by Napoleon to commemorate his
victories. It was pulled down by the Commune, but (the fragments having
been preserved) was re-erected after the triumph of the National party.
Round it in a long spiral run a series of reliefs, suggested by those on
Trajan’s Column at Rome: but while the Roman pillar was surrounded by a
Forum of several stories, with open porticoes from which the sculpture
could be inspected, the sculpture on Napoleon’s is quite invisible,
except just at the base, owing to the lack of any similar elevated
platform from which to view it.] The other great street diverging from
the Place de l’Opéra to the R, the Rue du 4 Septembre, leads to the
=Bourse= (uninteresting), and is part of the modern arterial system.

Continuing along the line of Louis XIV’s Boulevards, we reach next the
Bd. des Italiens, and then turn obtusely round into the Bd. Montmartre.
To our L lies the Faubourg of that name, long since swallowed up by the
engulfing city. At the Rue St. Denis (the great north road of Paris), we
arrive at one of the debased classical =triumphal arches= (Porte St.
Denis) which Louis XIV erected in place of the ancient castellated
gates. It is (more or less) decorated with contemporary reliefs
representing his victories; these, and the inscriptions, are worth
examining. Beyond the gate, the road to St. Denis, much traversed in
earlier times by pilgrims, takes the significant name of Rue du Faubourg
St. Denis. A little further on, the modern trunk line of the
(Haussmannesque) Bd. de Sébastopol, hewn straight through the heart of
the earlier town, intersects the old fortifications, leading R to the
Cité, and L to the Gare de l’Est, in which direction it is known as the
Bd. de Strasbourg. The next corner, the Rue St. Martin, which similarly
changes its name to that of its Faubourg as it crosses the limit of the
earlier town, is marked by a second of Louis XIV’s arches, the =Porte
St. Martin= (not _quite_ so ugly), whose sculpture is again worthy of
notice on historical grounds, if not on artistic. [A little way down the
Rue St. Martin to the R lies the =Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers=
(uninteresting internally) which occupies the site of the former
=Cluniac Priory= of St. Martin-des-Champs, after which the street is
still called. This was one of the principal old monasteries in the belt
outside the girdling walls of Philippe Auguste, though included within
those of Étienne Marcel. It was founded as early as the 11th century.
The Conservatoire itself, as an industrial exhibition, is hardly worth a
visit (except for technical purposes), but it ought to be inspected for
the sake of the old =church= of the monastery which it contains (enter
it to view interior; open on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays only) as
well as for the fine =Refectory= of the 13th century, a beautiful Gothic
hall, probably erected by Pierre de Montereau, the architect of the
Sainte Chapelle, who also built the other Refectory, now destroyed, at
St. Germain-des-Prés in the southern Faubourg. A little further on in
the same street is the interesting Gothic church of =St.
Nicolas-des-Champs=, with rather picturesque Renaissance additions. It
stood, when first built, far out in the country. The fine west porch is
of the 15th century. These buildings are chiefly worth notice as
enabling the visitor mentally to restore the outer ring of monasteries
and churches during the early mediæval period, afterwards englobed in
the town of Louis XIV, and now in many cases adapted to alien modern
uses.]

Return to the main line of the Boulevards, which here become distinctly
shabbier and pass through a poorer district. This part of Paris is
destitute of immediate interest, but should be traversed in order to
give the visitor a just idea of the extent and relations of the
eighteenth century city. We arrive before long at the Place de la
République, formerly =Place du Château-d’Eau=, now adorned with a new
bronze statue of the Republic. From this Place several more new
Boulevards in various directions pierce through the poorer and
densely-populated regions of eastern and north-eastern Paris. Along the
main line, the Bds. du Temple, des Filles du Calvaire, and Beaumarchais
lead hence through increasingly poorer-looking districts to the =Place
de la Bastille=, where stood the famous strong castle of that name
(Bastille St. Antoine), destroyed in the Revolution. Its site is now
occupied by the =Colonne de Juillet=, erected to commemorate the
Revolution of 1830. Hence the Rue St. Antoine leads R in one line into
the Rue de Rivoli near the Hôtel de Ville. Beyond the line of the
Boulevards, L, it takes the name of Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine. This
was the region of the poorer and fiery revolutionists of 1789–93.

The district =within= the Boulevards in this direction was in the Valois
period the most fashionable part of Paris. It contained the old royal
palace of the Hôtel St. Paul, together with numerous other _hôtels_ of
the French nobility. From the Place de la Bastille, also, new Boulevards
diverge in several directions. You had better return to the centre of
the town by the Rue St. Antoine, where the third turning to the R will
lead you direct into the =Place des Vosges=, a curious belated relic of
the Paris of Henri IV. Its interesting architecture and quiet stranded
air will well repay you for the slight détour, and will suggest to you
the possibility of many similar agreeable walks in the same district.
Mr. Hare will prove a most efficient guide to this quaint district, for
those who have time to explore it thoroughly. Remember always that the
_least_ important part of Paris, historically speaking, is the western
region which alone is known to most passing strangers.




                                   V
                        THE FAUBOURG ST. GERMAIN
                           (LUXEMBOURG, ETC.)


    [THE town on the North Side, we saw, was early surrounded by a
    =suburban belt= of gardens and monasteries. A similar zone
    encircled the old University on the South Bank. The wall of
    Philippe Auguste, you will remember, bent abruptly southward in
    order to enclose the abbey of Ste. Geneviève; but an almost more
    important monastic establishment was left outside it a little to
    the west. This was the gigantic abbey of =St. Germain-des-Prés=,
    whose very name betokens its original situation. This rich and
    powerful community, whose building covered an enormous area of
    ground on the Left Bank, and grew at last into a town by itself,
    was originally founded by Childebert I as a thank-offering for
    his victory over the Visigoths in Spain in 543. Childebert, it
    may be remarked, was one of the most religious-minded among the
    Frankish monarchs,—which is why we have more than once met with
    his effigy in Gothic sculpture. He was also one of those few
    Merovingian kings who especially made his residence in Paris. On
    the portal of the other St. Germain (l’Auxerrois), which has
    numerous points in common with this one, we saw him represented
    with his wife Ultrogothe and the earlier St. Germain, a naïve
    way of expressing the fact that the King and Queen first gave
    that church to the sainted bishop. At the Louvre, too, we saw
    his statue from this very monastery. Among the sacred objects
    which Childebert brought back from Spain was the tunic of =St.
    Vincent=, the patron saint of prisoners. When he was besieging
    Saragossa, he saw the inhabitants carry this tunic in unarmed
    procession round the walls; which so convinced him of its value
    that he raised the siege, on condition that he might take the
    holy object home with him. He also brought a large rich gold
    cross, ornamented with precious stones, from Toledo,—a piece of
    jeweller’s work which might probably be compared with the crowns
    of the Gothic kings preserved at Cluny. =St. Germain=, Bishop of
    Paris (who must not be confounded with his earlier namesake of
    Auxerre), recommended to the king the foundation of a new church
    and abbey, in order fitly to receive these holy relics. A church
    was therefore built in the garden belt outside the wall, and was
    originally dedicated (as was natural) to the Holy Cross and St.
    Vincent. The latter thus became one of the local saints of
    Paris, through its possession of his tunic; and his effigy may
    often be seen, with or without that of his brother deacon St.
    Stephen, on many of the older buildings of the city. We noticed
    him in particular on the portal of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, and
    on the frescoes within, though it was premature then to explain
    his presence. Note here that possession of the body of a Saint
    (St. Denis, Ste. Geneviève) or of some important relic (St.
    Vincent’s tunic, St. Martin’s cloak at St. Séverin) almost
    invariably gives rise to local churches, and decides the cult of
    local patrons.

    Later on, =St. Germain of Paris= having died, was buried in turn
    in Childebert’s church of St. Vincent. His body being preserved
    here (as it still is), and working many miraculous cures, it
    came about in time that St. Vincent and the Holy Cross were
    almost forgotten, and the local bishop whose bones were revered
    on the spot grew to be the acknowledged patron of the mighty
    abbey which surrounded his shrine. Such of the early Merovingian
    kings as were buried in Paris had their tombs in this first
    church: their stone coffins may still be seen at the Hôtel
    Carnavalet. The abbey, which belonged to monks of the
    Benedictine order, grew to be one of the most famous in Europe:
    its name is still bestowed upon the whole of the =Faubourg=
    (long since imbedded in the modern town) of which it forms the
    centre. It was to the South Bank what St. Denis was to Northern
    Paris.

    The existing =church=, of course (save for a few small
    fragments), is of far later date than the age of Childebert.
    Most of the Paris churches and monasteries suffered severely at
    the hands of the Normans: even those which were not then burnt
    down or sacked, were demolished and rebuilt in a more sumptuous
    style by the somewhat irreverent piety of later ages. This, the
    present church of St. Germain-des-Prés, belongs for the most
    part to the 11th century. It is therefore older than Notre-Dame
    or the Sainte Chapelle, and even as a whole than the greater
    part of St. Denis. It exhibits throughout that earlier
    =Romanesque= style which formed the transitional term between
    classical architecture and the pointed arches of the Gothic
    period. (What we call “Norman” in England is a local
    modification of Romanesque.) Portions of the building, however,
    show Gothic tendency; and the upper part is pure Pointed. Most
    of the Abbey has long since been swept away; a small part of the
    building still remains in the rear of the existing church. St.
    Germain should be visited if only on account of the fact that it
    is the earliest large ecclesiastical building now standing in or
    near Paris. Flandrin’s noble modern frescoes have given it of
    comparatively recent years another form of attractiveness.

    During the Renaissance period, while many of the nobility fixed
    their seats in the eastern and north-eastern part of
    Paris-within-the-Boulevards on the Right Bank, not a few erected
    houses for themselves in the open spaces of the =Faubourg St.
    Germain=. The most magnificent of these later buildings is the
    =Palais du Luxembourg=, erected for Marie de Médicis, after the
    death of Henri IV, by Jacques Debrosse, one of the best French
    architects of the generation which succeeded that of Jean Goujon
    and Philibert Delorme. It was built somewhat after the style of
    the Pitti Palace at Florence, where Marie was born, and it
    exhibits the second stage of French Renaissance architecture,
    when it was beginning to degenerate from the purity, beauty, and
    originality of its first outburst, towards the insipid
    classicism of Louis XIII and Louis XIV. It was for this building
    that Rubens executed his great series of pictures from the life
    of Marie, now in the Louvre; while Lesueur painted his St. Bruno
    legends for a Carthusian monastery within the grounds. The
    gardens which surround it are interesting in their way as being
    the only specimen now remaining in Paris of Renaissance methods
    of laying out; most of the other palaces have gardens designed
    by Le Nôtre in the formal style of Louis XIV. The Palace is now
    occupied by the Senate: it is practically difficult of access,
    and the interior contains so little of interest that it may well
    be omitted save by those who can spend much time in being
    ushered round almost empty rooms by perfunctory officials. But
    the exterior, the gardens, and the Medici fountain should be
    visited by all those who wish to form a consistent idea of
    Renaissance Paris.

    In the same excursion may be easily combined a visit to =St.
    Sulpice=, a church which occupies the site of an old foundation,
    but which was entirely rebuilt from the ground in the age of
    Louis XIV, and which is mainly interesting as the best example
    of the cold, lifeless, and grandiose taste of that pompous
    period.

    The =Faubourg St. Germain= and the quarter about it, as a whole,
    are still the region of the old noble families. The western end
    of this Faubourg, especially about the Quai d’Orsay, is given
    over to embassies and political machinery, particularly that
    connected with foreign affairs. The South Bank is also the
    district of the =Legislature=, in both its branches. The
    Quartier Latin, however, has largely overflowed of recent years
    into the Luxembourg district and that immediately behind it,
    which are now to a great extent occupied by the students,
    artists, and other Bohemian classes.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Cross the river, if possible, by the Pont de la Concorde. The classical
building which fronts you proclaims itself legibly on its very face as
the =Chambre des Députés=. But it has borne in its time many other
names. This _façade_ towards the river is of the age of the First
Empire; the main edifice, however, is much older, being the =Palais
Bourbon=, built in 1722 for the Duchesse de Bourbon. In 1790, it was
confiscated, and has ever since been the seat of one or other
legislative body, according to the Government of the moment.

You can go round to the back, as you pass, to inspect the original
_façade_, in the style of Louis XIV, facing the little Place du Palais
Bourbon. The interior is uninteresting, but has a few good pictures,
which should only be visited by those whose time is unlimited.

The river front is on the =Quai d’Orsay=, the centre of modern political
and diplomatic Paris. The building to the R of the Chamber is the
official residence of its President; still further R, the Ministère des
Affaires Étrangères. The broad thoroughfare which opens obliquely
south-eastward, L of the Chamber, is the Boulevard St. Germain, which we
have crossed before in other parts of its semi-circle. It was
Haussmannized in a wide curve through the quiet streets of the Faubourg,
and the purlieus of the Quartier Latin, with ruthless regularity. Many
of the tranquil aristocratic roads characteristic of the region lie R
and L of it; their type should be casually noted as you pass them. Down
the Rue de Lille stands the German Embassy; on the Boulevard itself, R,
the Ministère de la Guerre, and further on, L, the Travaux Publics.
Other ministries and embassies cluster thickly behind, about the
diplomatic Rue de Grenelle and its neighbours. To the R, again, the
Boulevard Raspail, another very modern street, not yet quite complete,
runs southward through the heart of the Luxembourg district. Continue
straight along the Boulevard St. Germain, till you reach the Place of
the same name, with the church of =St. Germain-des-Prés= full in front
of you. (It may also be reached directly by the Rue Bonaparte; but this
other is a more characteristic and instructive approach to the Abbey
Church which forms the centre of the quarter.) Observe how the new
Boulevard skirts its side, giving a clever effect of its having always
been there; the front of the church is round the corner in the Rue
Bonaparte.

The =exterior=, with the houses still built against it in places, though
picturesque, has little minute architectural detail. The massive tower
has been so much renewed as to be practically modern; but the Romanesque
arches near the top give it distinction and beauty. The mean and
unworthy porch is of the 17th cent.; the inner portal, however (though
its arch has been Gothicised), belongs to the Romanesque church and is
not without interest. Observe the character of the pilasters and
capitals, with grotesque animals. Statues of St. Germain, of Childebert
and Ultrogothe (as at the other St. Germain) and of Clovis, etc., which
once flanked the door, were destroyed at the Revolution. In the tympanum
are the unusual subjects of the Eternal Father, blessing, and beneath
Him a Romanesque relief of the Last Supper (_not_, as commonly, the Last
Judgment).

The =interior= still preserves in most part its Romanesque arches and
architecture; but the lower part of the nave is the oldest portion
(early 12th cent.); the choir is about a century later. Most of the
pillars have had their capitals so modernized and gilt as to be of
relatively little interest, while the decorations, though good and
effective, are in many cases of such a sort as effectually to conceal
the real antiquity of the building. The church was used during the Great
Revolution as a saltpetre factory, and was restored and re-decorated in
polychrome a little too freely under the Second Empire. A few capitals,
however, notably those of the Baptistery to the L as you enter retain
their antique carving and are worthy of notice; while even the modern
gilt figures on those of the aisle are Romanesque in character and
quaint in conception. (You can examine some of the old ones which they
replace in the garden at Cluny.)

Walk round the church. The architecture of the =ambulatory and choir=,
though later, is in a much more satisfactory condition than that of the
main body. The arches of the first story are mostly round, but pointed
in the apse; those of the clerestory are entirely Gothic. The detail
below is good Romanesque; study it. Observe the handsome triforium,
between the two stories; and more especially the interesting capitals of
the columns—relics of the original church of Childebert, built into the
later fabric. The choir, on the whole, is a fine specimen of late 12th
cent. work. The Lady Chapel, behind, is a modern addition.

After having thus walked round the aisles and the back of the choir to
observe the architecture, return once more to the doorway by which you
entered and proceed up =the nave=, in order to notice the admirable
modern =frescoes by Flandrin= (Second Empire). These are disposed in
pairs, each containing subjects, supposed to be parallel, from the Old
and New Testaments. Note in these the constant survival of early
traditions, revivified by Flandrin in accordance with the art of his own
period. The subjects are as follows:—

Begin on the L. (1) The Annunciation (treated somewhat in the
traditional manner, the relative positions of the Madonna and the Angel
Gabriel being preserved); typified by the Almighty appearing to Moses in
the Burning Bush, as His first Annunciation. (2) The Nativity, as the
pledge of redemption; typified or rendered necessary by the Fall. (The
New Testament scenes are of course the usual series; those from the Old
Testament foreshadow them, for which reason they are placed in the
opposite from the chronological order.) (3) The Adoration of the Magi
(reminiscences of the conventional, entirely altered by Oriental
costumes and attitudes of submission); typified by Balaam blessing
Israel—a famous picture. (4) The Baptism in Jordan (positions
conventional, with the three angels to the L as always); typified by the
Passage of the Red Sea. (5) The Institution of the Eucharist, very
original in treatment; typified by Melchisedec bringing forth bread and
wine to Abraham. Now return by the R side, beginning at the
transept:—(6) The Betrayal of Christ by Judas; typified by the Sale of
Joseph. (7) The Crucifixion—a very noble picture; typified by the
Offering of Isaac, full of pathos. (8) The Resurrection; typified by
Jonah restored from the sea, the whale being with great tact omitted.
(9) The Keys given to Peter; typified by the Dispersion of the Nations
at Babel. (A little thought is sometimes required to connect these
subjects, which are occasionally, as in the last pair, rather to be
regarded as opposites than types—the one remedying the other. Thus, the
counterpart to the Dispersal at Babel is Christ’s command to preach the
Gospel to all nations.)

Above this fine frieze of subject-pictures runs a course of single
figures, grouped in pairs, on either side of the windows in the
clerestory. They are Old Testament characters, from Adam and Eve onward,
ending with John the Baptist, as the last of the prophets. But as all
the characters have their names legibly inscribed beside them, I need
not enumerate them; all, however, should be observed, especially Adam
and Eve, Miriam, Deborah, and Judith. Hold your hat or a book to cover
the light from the windows, if the glare is too great, and after a
little while you will see them distinctly.

Now proceed again to the front of the choir. On either side are other
mural paintings, also by Flandrin: L, The Entry of Christ into
Jerusalem, very beautiful: R, The Bearing of the Cross. Round the choir,
the Twelve Apostles: by the pointed arches of the apse, the symbols of
the Evangelists—the angel, lion, bull, and eagle. Above all—an
interesting link with the earlier history of the church—are the pious
founders, Childebert and Ultrogothe; the original patron, St. Vincent,
with his successor, St. Germain; and finally, Abbot Morard who rebuilt
the church, substantially in its present form, after the Norman
invasion. He is thus commemorated in the beautiful choir which
represents the work of his successor, Abbot Hugues, in the next century.

Before leaving, observe, architecturally speaking, how a Romanesque
church of this type leads up to the more complex arrangement, with
chevet and chapels, in Notre-Dame and later Gothic churches. Note the
simplicity and dignity of the choir. Note also the peculiar character of
the vaulting, comparing it with the later type at Notre-Dame, and
especially with the reversion to much the same form in Renaissance times
at St. Étienne-du-Mont, and St. Eustache. In spite of its newness, much
of the modern decorative work is extremely effective; indeed, as a
specimen of almost complete internal decoration, this church,
notwithstanding the cruel overlaying of its early Romanesque sculpture
by gold and paint, is perhaps the most satisfactory of any in Paris,
except the Sainte Chapelle. I strongly advise you to sit down for some
time and inspect the capitals built into the aisle, and the beautiful
Merovingian pillars of the triforium, with an opera-glass, at your
leisure.

On quitting the church, walk round it for the view on every side, which
is picturesque and characteristic. Behind it, in the Rue de l’Abbaye,
stands an interesting portion of the 16th-century =Abbot’s Palace=—the
only remaining relic of the vast conventual buildings, once enclosed for
defence by a wall and moat, and containing a large lay and clerical
population, like a little city. The sumptuous carved and gilded figure
of Childebert, the founder, in the Mediæval Sculpture Room at the
Louvre, came from the doorway of the old Refectory—a magnificent work
by Pierre de Montereau (the architect of the Sainte Chapelle)—now
wholly demolished. After you have visited each church, you will often
find it pleasant to look out for such isolated works, divorced at
present from their surroundings, and placed at Cluny or elsewhere. They
will always gain new meaning for you by being thus identified as
belonging to such-and-such an original building. For instance, in the
Christian Antiquities Room at the Louvre, you will find an interesting
capital of a pillar belonging to the Merovingian church of St. Vincent.

Now return to the Boulevard St. Germain, which a little further on
occupies the site of the old Abbey Prison, famous as the scene of the
massacres in September, 1792. Take the Rue Bonaparte on the opposite
side, and go straight on till you reach the =Place St. Sulpice=, with
its huge church in front of you. The building replaces an earlier one to
the same saint: under Louis XIV, when the Faubourg St. Germain was
becoming the quarter of the nobles, it was rebuilt in a style of ugly
magnificence, befitting the maker of Versailles and Marly.

=St. Sulpice=, a vast bare barn, is chiefly interesting, indeed, as a
gigantic specimen of the coldly classical type of church built under
Louis XIV, when Gothic was despised, and even the Renaissance richness
of St. Eustache and St. Étienne was decried as barbaric. It is a painful
monument of declining taste. The =exterior= is chilly. The _façade_,
whose sole recommendation nowadays is its size and its massiveness, is a
triumph of its kind; it consists of two stories, with arcades of Doric
and Ionic pillars superimposed on one another, and crowned with a pair
of octagonal towers, only one of which is completed. The scanty detail
of the sculpture is of the familiar character of the decadent period.
But Fergusson praises the general effect of the exterior.

The =interior= consists of a cruciform pseudo-classical nave, with
aisles, two bare single transepts, and a choir ending in a circular
apse,—all vast, gloomy, barren, and unimpressive. The pillars and
pilasters have Corinthian capitals, and most of the sculpture betrays
the evil influence of Bernini. The holy water stoups, by the second
pillars, however, are more satisfactory: they consist of huge shells,
presented by the Republic of Venice to François I^{er}, standing on
bases by Pigalle,—an effective piece of decorative work in this
unpleasing edifice. As a whole, this chilly interior stands in marked
contrast to the polychromatic richness of St. Germain-des-Prés, and to
the exquisite Gothic detail of Notre-Dame and St. Germain-l’Auxerrois.
The roof and false cupola contrast very much to their disadvantage with
the charming Renaissance vaulting of St. Étienne-du-Mont and St.
Eustache. Accept this visit as penance done to the age of Louis XIV.
Save historically, indeed, this barren church is almost devoid of
interest. Like everything of its age, it aims at grandeur: it only
succeeds in being gaunt and grandiose. The very size is thrown away for
want of effective vistas and groups of pillars; it looks smaller than it
is, and sadly lacks furnishing.

Several of the =chapels= around this disappointing church, however,
contain many good modern pictures: most of them also bear the names of
the saints to whom they are dedicated, which largely aids the
recognition of the symbolism. I enumerate a few of them for their
interest in this matter. =Right aisle= (1) St. Agnes. Jacob and the
angel: Heliodorus expelled from the Temple: by Delacroix. (2) Chapel of
Souls in Purgatory. Religion brings comfort to the dying; benefit of
prayers for the dead: by Heim. (3) Chapel of St. Roch, the plague saint.
He prays for the plague-stricken: he dies in prison at Montpelier: by
Abel de Pujol. (4) St. Maurice, the soldier saint. His legend: by
Vinchon. =Left aisle.= The chapels here are chiefly dedicated to the
newer humanitarian saints of Catholicism. (1) St. François Xavier. He
resuscitates a dead man: miraculous cures at his burial: by Lafon. (2)
St. François de Sales. He preaches in Savoy: he gives to Ste. J. F.
Chantal the constitution of his Order of nuns: by Hesse. (3) St. Paul.
His conversion; he preaches at Athens: by Drolling. (4) St. Vincent de
Paul. He founds the hospital for foundlings, with the Sisters of
Charity: he attends the death-bed of Louis XIII: by Guillemot. =Chapels
of the choir: L= (1) St. John the Evangelist. His martyrdom: and his
assumption. (2) San Carlo Borromeo. He ministers during the plague at
Milan: he gives the sacrament to his uncle, Pius IV, on his death-bed.
(3) Uninteresting. (4) St. Louis the King. He carries a dying man during
the plague: he administers justice under the oak of Vincennes. =Lady
Chapel=, a miracle of ugliness. Statue of the Virgin on clouds in a
recess, by Pajon, lighted from above, and in execrable taste,—the worst
feature in this insipid and often vulgar building. Bad statues and
frescoes. The other choir chapels on the =R side= are dedicated to the
older patron saints of Paris. (1) St. Denis. His preaching: his
condemnation. (2) St. Martin. He divides his cloak with the beggar: he
resuscitates a dead man. (3) Ste. Geneviève. She brings food from Troyes
during the siege of Paris: miracles wrought by her relics. (4) Our Lady.
Her Birth: her Presentation in the Temple, interesting as modern
examples of the treatment of these traditional subjects. Over the door,
N or L side, her Death: S or R side, her Assumption.

St. Sulpice has a reputation for good music.

The Fontaine St. Sulpice, in front of the church, is from Visconti’s
designs, and has appropriate statues of the four great French
preachers—Bossuet, Fénélon, Massillon, and Fléchier. The pulpit here is
still famous for its oratory.

From St. Sulpice, the Rue Férou, to the R of the _façade_, leads you
straight to the Luxembourg Palace. The long low building almost directly
opposite you as you emerge is the

                         **Musée du Luxembourg,

containing the works of modern French painters. This, of course, is one
of the most important objects to be visited in Paris; but I do not give
any detailed account of it here, because the pictures themselves are
entirely modern, and chiefly by living painters and sculptors, the
various examples being sent to the Louvre, or to provincial museums,
within ten years of the death of the artist. A visit to this Museum is
therefore indispensable to those who desire to form a just acquaintance
with contemporary art. But nothing in the Gallery demands historical
elucidation. The visitor should provide himself with the Official
Catalogue, which will amply suffice for his needs in this Gallery. I
need hardly say that a proper inspection of it _cannot_ be combined in
one day with the other objects mentioned in this Excursion. Devote to it
at least one or two separate mornings.

Turning to the L, as we leave the end of the Rue Férou, the first
building on our R is the official residence of the President of the
Senate; the second is Marie de Médicis’s

                       Palace of the Luxembourg,

now employed as the seat of the Senate. Walk along its _façade_, the
work of Jacques Debrosse, one of the ablest architects of the later
classicizing Renaissance, in order to observe the modified style of the
age of Henri IV and Louis XIII, which it still on the whole preserves,
in spite of modern additions and alterations. Note the gradual
falling-off from the exquisitely fanciful period of the earlier French
Renaissance, which produced the best parts of the Louvre and St.
Eustache; and the way this building lets us down gently to the bald
classicism of Louis XIV and Perrault. If you know Florence, observe also
the distinct reminiscences of the Pitti Palace. Continue your walk along
the whole of the _façade_, as far as the corner by the Odéon
Théâtre,—the subventioned theatre of the students and the Quartier
Latin. Then, turn into the =garden=, and note the rest of the building,
whose _façade_ towards this side, though restored under Louis Philippe,
more nearly represents Debrosse’s architecture than does that towards
the main thoroughfare. You need not trouble about the interior: though
it contains a few good modern paintings.

The =garden=, however, is well worth a visit on its own account, both
for the sake of the typical manner in which it is laid out, and
especially for the handsome =Fontaine de Médicis= by Debrosse, on the
side next the Panthéon. The group of sculpture in the middle represents
Polyphemus surprising Acis and Galatea. Go round to the back, to see the
(modern) Fountain of Leda,—that favourite subject of Renaissance
sculpture. The best way back from this Excursion is by the Rue de Seine,
which leads you past the Marché St.-Germain.

Another building in this district to which, if possible, the reader
should pay at least one visit, is the =École des Beaux-Arts= in the Rue
Bonaparte. This collection is interesting, both because it contains a
number of valuable fragments of French Renaissance work, especially
architectural, and also because of its =Museum of Copies=, including
transcripts (mostly very good) of the best pictures of various ages,
many of which are useful to the student of art-history for comparison
with originals in the Louvre and elsewhere. Everybody who has not been
to Rome, Venice, and Florence, should certainly try to visit this
Museum; and even those who have made firsthand acquaintance with the
masterpieces of Italian art in their native homes will find that it
sometimes affords them opportunities for comparison of works widely
scattered in the originals, which can be better understood here in
certain of their aspects than in isolation. The building is open to the
public, free, from 12 to 4 on Sundays; on week-days, non-students are
also admitted from 10 to 4 (except Mondays), on application to the
Concierge (small fee). I strongly advise a Sunday visit, however, as you
are then less hurried, and also as the door on the Quai Malaquais is
open on that day. This building should, if possible, be made the object
of a separate excursion. It takes a long time to inspect it thoroughly.

Pass through the Tuileries Gardens, or across the Place du Carrousel,
and traverse the river by the Pont Royal or the Pont du Carrousel. The
second turn to the R, after the last-named bridge, the Rue Bonaparte,
will take you straight to the door of the École. The building occupies
the site of the old Couvent des Petits-Augustins; the convent chapel and
a few other remains of the original works are embedded in it. Enter the
courtyard. Here, during the Great Revolution, the painter Alexandre
Lenoir founded his Musée des Monuments for the accommodation of the
tombs removed from St. Denis and other churches. To his indefatigable
exertions almost alone we owe the preservation of these priceless
Mediæval and Renaissance relics. Under the Restoration, most of the
monuments were replaced in their original positions, and we shall visit
several of them later at St. Denis. To the R of the entrance in this
=First Court= is the beautiful =doorway of the Château d’Anet=—that gem
of Early French Renaissance architecture, which was erected for Diane de
Poitiers by Philibert Delorme and Jean Goujon, by order of Henri II, in
1548: many objects from the same building we have already seen
elsewhere. The portal is now placed as the entrance to the old =Abbey
Chapel=. The end of this court is formed by part of the =façade= from
the =Château de Gaillon=, erected for the Cardinal d’Amboise, Minister
of Louis XII, and one of the favourite residences of François I^{er}. It
presents mixed Renaissance and Gothic features, as did the sculpture of
Michel Colombe from the same building, which we saw at the Louvre. Both
these imposing works—the portal of Château d’Anet and this
_façade_—should be compared with the Italian Renaissance doorway from
Cremona and the Gothic one from Valencia, which we saw in the collection
of sculpture at the Louvre. They are indispensable to a full
comprehension of the French Renaissance. The Château de Gaillon was
destroyed during the Revolution, and many of its finest monuments are
now at the Louvre. If you have time, after seeing this Museum, go back
and compare them.

The =Second Court=, beyond the _façade_, contains several fragments of
buildings and sculpture, among which notice the capitals from the _old_
church of Ste. Geneviève (Romanesque), and a fine stone basin of the
12th cent., brought from St. Denis.

Now, return to the First Court, and visit the former =Chapel=. It
contains =plaster casts=, adequately described for casual visitors by
the labels, as well as =copies of paintings=. These plaster casts,
especially those of the pulpit from Pisa, by Nicolò Pisano, the first
mediæval sculptor who tried to imitate the antique, will enable you to
piece out your conception of Italian Renaissance sculpture, as formed at
the Louvre. Do not despise these casts: they are excellent for
comparison. Among the pictures, notice the copy of Mantegna’s fresco of
St. James conducted to Martyrdom, from the church of the Eremitani at
Padua. The fresco itself is a work of Mantegna’s first period, and I
select this copy for notice because it will help you to fill in the idea
you formed of that great painter from consideration of his originals at
the Louvre. Notice, for example, the strenuous efforts at perspective
and foreshortening; the introduction of decorated Renaissance
architecture; the love of reliefs and ornament; the classical armour;
and many other features which display the native bent of Mantegna, but
not as yet in the maturity of his powers. Observe, again, the copy of
Ghirlandajo’s exquisite Adoration of the Magi, with its numerous
portraits, disguised as the Three Kings, the Shepherds, and the
spectators, to which I have already called attention when speaking of
Luini’s treatment of this subject in the Louvre. I do not enlarge upon
these mere copies, as the originals will occupy us at Florence or
Munich; but the student who has become interested in the evolution of
art will find it a most valuable study to trace the connection, first,
between these subjects and others like them in the Louvre, and, second,
between these copies of works by various masters and the originals by
the same artists preserved in that collection. Compare, and compare, and
compare again ceaselessly.

The Inner Court, the =Cour du Mûrier=, leads to another hall, the =Salle
de Melpomène=, entered on Sundays direct from the Quai Malaquais. This
room also contains a large number of =copies= which are valuable for
study to those who have not seen the originals, and which will often
recall forgotten facts in new connections to those who _have_ seen them.
I would call special attention, from the point of view of this book, to
the good copies of Raphael’s and Perugino’s =Marriage of the Virgin=: as
the originals are respectively at Milan and Caen (two places
sufficiently remote from one another), the composition of the two can be
better compared here than under any other circumstances. As examples of
development, I shall notice them briefly. Perugino’s is, of course, the
older work. It was painted for a chapel in the Cathedral at Perugia,
where it still hung when Raphael painted his imitation of it. First look
carefully at both works, and then read these remarks upon them. The
Sposalizio or Marriage of the Virgin, one of the set subjects in the old
series of the Life of Mary, and often used as an altar-piece, consists
traditionally of the following features. In the centre, stands the High
Priest, wearing his robes and ephod—or what the particular painter
takes for such: he joins the hands of Joseph and the Madonna. Joseph
stands always on the L side of the picture, which Perugino has rightly
assigned to him; though Raphael, already revolutionary, has reversed
this order. He holds in his hand a staff, which has budded into lily
flowers—the tradition (embodied in the Protevangelion) being that the
High Priest caused the various suitors for Mary’s hand to place their
staffs in the Holy of Holies, as had long before been done in the case
of Aaron, intending that he whose staff budded should become the husband
of the Holy Virgin. Joseph’s put forth leaves and flowers; and so this
staff, either flowering or otherwise, is the usual symbol by which you
can recognise him in sacred art. Behind Joseph stand the other
disappointed suitors, one or more of whom always breaks his staff in
indignation. Behind Mary stand the attendant maidens—the Virgins of the
Lord—together with Our Lady’s mother, St. Anne, recognisable by her
peculiar head-dress and wimple. (Compare Leonardo in the Salon Carré.) A
temple always occupies the background. Perugino took the main elements
of this scene from earlier painters. (You will find numerous examples in
the churches and galleries at Florence and elsewhere.) But he
transformed it in accordance with his peculiar genius and his views of
art, substituting a round or octagonal temple of Renaissance
architecture for the square Gothic building of earlier painters. Such
round buildings were the conventional representation of the Temple at
Jerusalem among Renaissance artists. The peculiar head-dress and the
balanced position are also characteristic of Perugino. How closely
Raphael followed his master on these points of composition you can see
for yourself by comparing the two copies. But you can also see how
thoroughly he transformed Perugino’s spirit; retaining the form while
altering the whole sentiment and feeling of the figures. You see in it
Perugino’s conception, but Raphael’s treatment. I have called special
attention to these two pictures because they admirably illustrate the
value and importance of comparison in art. You cannot wholly understand
the Raphael without having seen the Perugino; nor can you wholly
understand the Perugino without having seen the Ghirlandajos and Fra
Angelicos, and Taddeo Gaddis which preceded it. Go from one to the other
of these two pictures and note the close resemblance even in the marble
pavement, the grouping of each component cluster, and the accessories in
the background. Nay, the more graceful attitude of the suitor who breaks
his staff in the Raphael is borrowed from a minor figure in the
background of the Perugino. It is only by thus comparing work with work
that we can arrive at a full comprehension of early painting, and
especially of the relations between painter and painter.

I will not call special attention to the various other copies in this
Museum. I will merely point out, as casting light on subjects we have
already considered, Verocchio’s Baptism of Christ, Perugino’s group from
the same subject, Raphael’s Entombment, Botticelli’s Adoration of the
Magi, and Madonnas by Filippo Lippi, Giovanni Bellini, Correggio, and
Mantegna. Many of these can be compared here and nowhere else. For those
who are making a long stay in Paris, a judicious use of this collection,
in conjunction with the Louvre, will cast unexpected light in many cases
on works in that Gallery which it has been impossible here to describe
in full detail.

The =Amphithéâtre=, approached from the Second Court, contains in its
=Vestibule= a number of =plaster casts=, also valuable for purposes of
comparison. The transitional archaic period of Greek sculpture, for
instance, ill represented at the Louvre, is here well exemplified by
casts from the statues in the pediment of the Temple of Athenè at Ægina,
now in the Pinakothek at Munich. Compare these with the reliefs from
Thasos in the Salle de Phidias. Similarly, casts of the Children of
Niobe, belonging to the same school as the Venus of Milo, are useful for
comparison with that famous statue. The Amphithéâtre itself, behind the
Vestibule, contains Paul Delaroche’s famous =Hémicycle=, one of that
great painter’s most celebrated works. Do not think, because I do not
specify, that the other objects in this Museum are unworthy of notice.
Observe them for yourself, and return afterwards to the Louvre time
after time, comparing the types you have seen here with originals of the
same artists and variants of the same subject in that collection.




                                   VI
                                ST. DENIS


    [ABOUT six miles north of the original Paris stands the great
    =Basilica of St. Denis=—the only church in Paris, and I think
    in France, called by that ancient name, which carries us back at
    once to the days of the Roman Empire, and in itself bears
    evidence to the antiquity of the spot as a place of worship.
    Around it, a squalid modern industrial town has slowly grown up;
    but the nucleus of the whole place, as the name itself shows, is
    the body and shrine of the martyred bishop, St. Denis. Among the
    numerous variants of his legend, the most accepted is that which
    makes the apostle of Paris have carried his head to this spot
    from Montmartre. (Others say he was beheaded in Paris and walked
    to Montmartre, his body being afterwards translated to the
    Abbey; while there are who see in his legend a survival of the
    Dionysiac festival and sacrifice of the vine-growers round
    Paris—Denis=Dionysius=Dionysus.) However that may be, a chapel
    was erected in 275 above the grave of St. Denis, on the spot now
    occupied by the great Basilica; and later, Ste. Geneviève was
    instrumental in restoring it. Dagobert I, one of the few
    Frankish kings who lived much in Paris, built a “basilica” in
    place of the chapel (630), and instituted by its side a
    Benedictine Abbey. The church and monastery which possessed the
    actual body of the first bishop and great martyr of Paris formed
    naturally the holiest site in the neighbourhood of the city; and
    even before Paris became the capital of a kingdom, the abbots
    were persons of great importance in the Frankish state. The
    desire to repose close to the grave of a saint was habitual in
    early times, and even (with the obvious alteration of words)
    antedated Christianity—every wealthy Egyptian desiring in the
    same way to “sleep with Osiris.” Dagobert himself was buried in
    the church he founded, beside the holy martyr; and in later
    times this very sacred spot became for the same reason the
    recognised burial-place of the French kings. Dagobert’s fane was
    actually consecrated by the Redeemer Himself, who descended for
    the purpose by night, with a great multitude of saints and
    angels.

    The existing Basilica, though of far later date, is the oldest
    church of any importance in the neighbourhood of Paris. It was
    begun by Suger, abbot of the monastery, and sagacious minister
    of Louis VI and VII, in 1121. As yet, Paris itself had no great
    church, Notre-Dame having been commenced nearly 50 years later.
    The earliest part of Suger’s building is in the Romanesque
    style; it still retains the round Roman arch and many other
    Roman constructive features. During the course of the 50 years
    occupied in building the Basilica, however, the Gothic style was
    developed; the existing church therefore exhibits both
    Romanesque and Gothic work, with transitional features between
    the two, which add to its interest. Architecturally, then, bear
    in mind, it is in part =Romanesque, passing into Gothic=. The
    interior is mostly pure Early Gothic.

    The neighbourhood to Paris, the supremacy of the great saint,
    and the fact that St. Denis was especially the =Royal Abbey=,
    all combined to give it great importance. Under Suger’s
    influence, Louis VI adopted the =oriflamme= or standard of St.
    Denis as the royal banner of France. The Merovingian and
    Carlovingian kings, to be sure—Germans rather than French—had
    naturally been buried elsewhere, as at Aix-la-Chapelle, Rheims,
    and Soissons (though even of them a few were interred beside the
    great bishop martyr). But as soon as the =Parisian dynasty= of
    the Capets came to the throne, they were almost without
    exception buried at St. Denis. Hence the abbey came to be
    regarded at last mainly as the =mausoleum of French royalty=,
    and is still too often so regarded by tourists. But though the
    exquisite Renaissance tombs of the House of Valois would well
    deserve a visit on their own account, they are, at St. Denis,
    but accessories to the great Basilica. Besides the actual tombs,
    too, many monuments were erected here, in the 13th cent. (by St.
    Louis) and afterwards, to earlier kings buried elsewhere, some
    relic of whom, however, the abbey possessed and thus honoured.
    Hence several of the existing tombs are of far later date than
    the kings they commemorate; those of the Valois almost alone are
    truly contemporary.

    At the Revolution, the Basilica suffered irreparable losses. The
    very sacred reliquary containing the severed head of St. Denis
    was destroyed, and the remains of the martyr and his companions
    desecrated. The royal bones and bodies were also disinterred and
    flung into trenches indiscriminately. The tombs of the kings
    were condemned to destruction, and many (chiefly in metal) were
    destroyed or melted down, but not a few were saved with
    difficulty by the exertions of antiquaries, and were placed in
    the Museum of Monuments at Paris (now the École des Beaux-Arts),
    of which Alexandre Lenoir was curator. Here, they were greatly
    hacked about and mutilated, in order to fit them to their new
    situations. At the Restoration, however, they were sent back to
    St. Denis, together with many other monuments which had no real
    place there; but, being housed in the crypt, they were further
    clipped to suit their fresh surroundings. Finally, when the
    Basilica was restored under Viollet-le-Duc, the tombs were
    replaced as nearly as possible in their old positions; but
    several intruders from elsewhere are still interspersed among
    them. Louis XVIII brought back the mingled bones of his
    ancestors from the common trench and interred them in the crypt.

    Remember, then, these things about St. Denis: (1) It is (or
    was), first and above all things, =the shrine of St. Denis and
    his fellow-martyrs=. (2) It contains the remnant of =the tombs
    of the French kings=. (3) It is =older= in part than almost any
    other building we have yet examined.

    As regards the =tombs=, again, bear in mind these facts. All the
    oldest have perished; there are none here that go back much
    further than the age of St. Louis, though they often represent
    personages of earlier periods or dynasties. The best are those
    of the Renaissance period. These are greatly influenced by the
    magnificent tomb of Giangaleazzo Visconti at the Certosa di
    Pavia, near Milan. Especially is this the case with the noble
    monument of Louis XII, which closely imitates the Italian work.
    Now, you must remember that Charles VIII and Louis XII fought
    much in Italy, and were masters of Milan; hence this tomb was
    familiar to them; and their Italian experiences had much to do
    with the French Renaissance. The Cardinal d’Amboise, Louis’s
    minister, built the Château de Gaillon, and much of the artistic
    impulse of the time was due to these two. Henceforth recollect
    that though François I^{er} is the Prince of the Renaissance,
    Louis XII and his minister were no mean forerunners.

    The Basilica is open daily; the royal tombs are shown to parties
    every half-hour; but the attendants hurry visitors through with
    perfunctory haste, and no adequate time is given to examine the
    monuments. Therefore, =do not go to St. Denis till after= you
    have seen the =Renaissance Sculpture= at the Louvre, which will
    have familiarised you with the style, and will enable you better
    to grasp their chief points quickly. Also, go =in the morning,
    on a bright day=: in the late afternoon or on dark days you see
    hardly anything.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

Start from the Gare du Nord. About four trains run every hour. There is
also a tramway which starts from the Opéra, the Madeleine, or the Place
du Châtelet, but the transit is long, and the weary road runs endlessly
through squalid suburbs, so that the railway is far preferable. Start
early. Take your opera-glasses.

From the St. Denis station, take the road directly to the R as far as
the modern Parish Church, when a straight street in front of you (a
little to the L) leads directly to the Basilica. On the L of the Place
in front of the great church is the Hôtel de Ville, on which it is
interesting to notice, high up on the front, the ancient royal war-cry
of “Montjoye St. Denis!”

Turn to the =Basilica=. The =façade=, of the age of Abbot Suger, is very
irregular. It consists of two lateral towers, and a central portion,
answering to the Nave. Only the south tower is now complete; the other,
once crowned by a spire, was struck by lightning in 1837. Observe the
inferiority in unity of design to the fine _façade_ of Notre-Dame, the
stories of the towers not answering in level to those of the central
portion. We have here the same general features of two western towers
and three recessed portals; but Notre-Dame has improved upon them with
Gothic feeling. The lower arches are round and Romanesque. The upper
ones show in many cases an incipient Gothic tendency. The =rose window=
has been converted into a clock. On either side of it, in medallions,
are the symbols of the four Evangelists. Observe the fine pillars and
Romanesque arcade of the one complete tower. Also, the reliefs of kings
of Israel and Judah in the blind arcade which caps the third story in
both towers. The coarse and ugly battlements which spoil the front are
part of the defensive wall of the Abbey, erected during the English wars
in the 14th century. Behind them, a little way off, you can see the high
and pointed roof of the nave, crowned by the statue of the patron, St.
Denis.

Now, enter the enclosure and examine the =three round-arched portals=.
The _Central Doorway_ has for its subject the usual scene of the Last
Judgment. The architecture of the framework is still in the main that of
the 13th cent. The relief in the tympanum has been much restored, but
still retains its Romanesque character. In the centre is Christ,
enthroned, with angels. On His R hand, the blessed, with the Angel of
the Last Trump as elsewhere. On His L, the condemned, with the Angel
bearing the sword, and thrusting the wicked into Hell: all conventional
features. The Latin inscriptions mean, “Come, ye blessed of My Father”;
and “Depart from Me, ye wicked.” Beneath is the General Resurrection,
souls rising (mostly naked) from the tomb. To R and L of the doorway,
below, are the frequent subjects of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. Above,
on the archway, figures of saints and patriarchs, amongst whom is
conspicuous King David. Notice in the very centre or key of the archway,
Christ receiving souls from angels. To His R, Abraham with three blessed
souls in his bosom (as at St. Germain l’Auxerrois). To His L, devils
seizing the condemned, whom they thrust into hell, while angels struggle
for them. Higher still, on the arch, angels swinging a censer, and an
angel displaying a medallion of the lamb. This door formed the model on
which those of Notre-Dame, the Sainte Chapelle, St. Germain l’Auxerrois,
and many others in Paris of later date, were originally based. The
actual doors have naïve bronze reliefs of the Passion, Resurrection, and
Ascension. Notice the quaint character of these reliefs, and of the
delicate decorative design which surrounds them,—broken, in the case of
the Supper at Emmaus, by the figure of a monk, probably Abbot Suger,
grasping a pillar. The Resurrection, with its sleeping Roman soldiers,
and the Kiss of Judas, with Peter sheathing his sword and Christ healing
the ear of Malchus, are also very typical. Do not fail to notice,
either, the beautiful decoration of the pilasters and their capitals.
All this is delicate and characteristic Romanesque tracery.

The other doors commemorate the =History of St. Denis=. On the _South
Door_ is a much-restored and practically modern relief of St. Denis in
prison with Christ bringing him the last sacrament; it has been largely
made up by the aid of the old French painting of the same subject in the
Louvre. In front are figures symbolical of his martyrdom—the
executioner, etc. On the sides, reliefs of the Months. On the _North
Door_, St. Denis condemned and on his way to Montmartre, with his two
companions, Rusticus and Eleutherius, chained; they are accompanied in
the sky by the Eternal Father and the heavenly host. On the archway,
interesting reliefs of the three martyrs, with an angel supporting the
châsse containing their relics. On the sides, the signs of the Zodiac.

Walk round the =North Side= to observe the decorated flamboyant
architecture of the chapels of the North Aisle (much later) with the
flying buttresses above them. Also, the North Transept, with its rose
window, and the peculiar =radiating chapels= around the =apse=, which
form a characteristic feature of the Romanesque style. Observe these as
well as you can from the extreme end of the railing. Return to Transept.
The sculpture over the North Portal represents the Decapitation of St.
Denis. On the centre pier, a Madonna and Child. R and L, Kings of Judah.

The South Side is inaccessible. It is enclosed by buildings on the site
of the old monastery (not ancient—age of Louis XIV), now used as a
place of education for daughters of Chevaliers de la Légion d’Honneur.

The =interior= is most beautiful. The first portion of the church which
we enter is a =vestibule= or _Galilee_ under the side towers and end of
the Nave. Compare Durham. It is of the age of Abbot Suger, but already
exhibits pointed arches in the upper part. The architecture is solid and
massive, but somewhat gloomy.

Descend a few steps into the =Nave=, which is surrounded by single
aisles, whose vaulting should be noticed. The architecture of this part,
now pure Early Gothic, is extremely lovely. The triforium is delicate
and graceful. The windows in the clerestory above it, representing kings
and queens, are almost all modern. Notice the great height of the Nave,
and the unusual extent to which the triforium and clerestory project
above the noble vaulting of the aisles. Note that the triforium itself
opens directly to the air, and is supplied with stained-glass windows,
seen through its arches. Sit awhile in this light and lofty Nave, in
order to take in the beautiful view up the church towards the choir and
_chevet_.

Then walk up to the Barrier near the Transepts, where sit again, in
order to observe the =Choir= and =Transepts= with the staircase which
leads to the raised Ambulatory. Observe that the transepts are simple.
The ugly stained glass in the windows of their clerestory contains
illustrations of the reign of Louis Philippe, with extremely
unpicturesque costumes of the period. The trousers are unspeakable. The
architecture of the Nave and Choir, with its light and airy arches and
pillars, is of the later 13th century.

The reason for this is that Suger’s building was thoroughly restored
from 1230 onwards, in the pure pointed style of that best period. The
upper part of the Choir, and the whole of the Nave and Transepts was
then rebuilt—which accounts for the gracefulness and airiness of its
architecture when contrasted with the dark and heavy vestibule of the
age of Suger.

Note from this point the arrangement of the Choir, which, to those who
do not know Italy, will be quite unfamiliar. As at San Zeno in Verona,
San Miniato in Florence, and many other Romanesque churches, =the Choir
is raised= by some steps above the Nave and Transepts; while =the Crypt=
is slightly depressed beneath them. In the Crypt, in such cases, are the
actual bodies of the saints buried there; while the Altar stands
directly over their tombs in the Choir above it.

Look every way from this point at the tombs within sight, at the Choir
and Transepts, and at the steps of the Ambulatory. Do not be in a hurry
to enter. On the contrary, sit awhile longer in the body of the Nave,
=outside= the barrier, and read what follows.

    [The custodians hurry you so rapidly through the reserved part
    of the church that it will be well =before entering the
    enclosure= to glance through the succeeding notes, explanatory
    of what you are about to see. The remarks to be read _as you go
    round the building_ I insert separately, in the briefest
    possible words, as aids to memory.

    The tomb of =Louis XII= (d. 1515) and his wife, Anne de Bretagne
    (d. 1514), is the earliest of the great Renaissance tombs in
    France, and the first in order in this Basilica. Long believed
    to be of Italian workmanship, it is now known to be the
    production of Jean Juste of Tours, unknown otherwise, but
    supposed to be a Florentine. It is imitated from the
    Giangaleazzo Visconti, already mentioned, in the Certosa di
    Pavia. This tomb, the first you see, struck the keynote for such
    works of the Renaissance in France. It is a good and apparently
    French imitation of the Italian original, and it fitly marks
    Louis XII’s place in the artistic movement. Remember his statue
    by Lorenzo da Mugiano in the Louvre, and his connection with
    Cardinal d’Amboise and the Château de Gaillon.

    The next important monument is that of =Dagobert I= (d. 638),
    the founder of the Abbey, probably erected in his honour, as a
    sort of shrine, by St. Louis in the 13th cent. In order to
    understand this tomb (which you are only allowed to see across
    the whole breadth of the choir), it is necessary to know the
    =legend= to which the mediæval sculptures on the canopy refer.
    When Dagobert died, demons tried to steal his soul; but he was
    rescued by St. Denis, to whom he had built this abbey, assisted
    by St. Maurice and St. Martin of Tours—a significant story,
    pointing the moral of how good a thing it is to found a
    monastery. The narrative is told in three stages, one above the
    other. (1) An anchorite, sleeping, is shown by St. Denis in a
    dream that the king’s soul is in danger; to the R, Dagobert
    stands in a little boat (like the boat of Charon); demons seize
    him and take off his crown. (2) The three saints come to the
    king’s rescue, attended by two angels, one swinging a censer,
    the other holding a vase of holy water; St. Martin and St. Denis
    see the tortured soul; the soldier St. Maurice, sword in hand,
    attacks the demons. (3) The three saints, attended by the
    angels, hold a sheet, on which the soul of Dagobert stands,
    praying. The Hand of God appears in a glory above, to lift him
    into heaven. These are on the canopy; beneath, on the tomb
    itself, lies a modern restored recumbent statue of Dagobert;
    there are also erect figures of his son Sigebert (restored), and
    his queen, Nantilde (original).

    The tomb of =Henri II= (d. 1559) and his queen, =Catherine de
    Médicis= (d. 1589)—the third of any importance—was executed by
    the great sculptor, Germain Pilon, during the lifetime of the
    latter. (It was he, too, you will remember, who made the
    exquisite group of figures, now in the Louvre, to support the
    urn which was to contain their hearts.) As in many contemporary
    tombs, the king and queen are represented alive and kneeling, in
    bronze, above, and nude and dead in marble on the tomb below.
    (We saw a similar tomb at the Louvre.) A =second monument=,
    close by, to the same king and queen, has recumbent marble
    figures on a bronze couch,—Catherine is said in her devouter
    old age to have disapproved of the nudity of the figures on the
    first tomb—but as it was usual to distribute relics of French
    kings to various abbeys, such duplicate monuments were once
    common.

    The tomb of =Frédégonde= (d. 597) from St. Germain-des-Prés, is
    a curious mosaic figure of marble and copper, almost unique in
    character. It is =not= of the Queen’s own age, but was added to
    her shrine in the 12th century. Most of these early kings and
    queens, founders and benefactors of monasteries, were either
    actually canonized or were treated as saints by the monks whom
    they had benefited: and tombs in their honour were repaired or
    reedified after the Norman invasion and other misfortunes.

    Two monuments of the =children of St. Louis=, from other abbeys,
    carried first to Lenoir’s Museum, are now in this Basilica. They
    are of enamelled copper, with =repoussé= figures, executed at
    Limoges.

    The most costly, though not to my mind the most beautiful, of
    the Renaissance tombs is that of =François I^{er}= (d. 1547). On
    the summit are kneeling figures of the King, his wife Claude,
    and their three children. The reliefs on the pedestal represent
    the battles of Marignano and Cerisole. This tomb, like that of
    Louis XII, is ultimately based on the Visconti monument in the
    Certosa, but it exhibits a much later and more refined
    development of French Renaissance sculpture than its
    predecessor. It is by Germain Pilon, Philibert Delorme, and
    (perhaps) Jean Goujon. The architectural plan is noble and
    severe: but it lacks the more naïve beauty of Jean Juste’s
    workmanship.

    It was the curious custom to treat the bodies of French Kings
    (who, as royal, were almost sacred) much as the relics of the
    Saints were treated. Hence the head and heart were often
    preserved separately and in different places from the body to
    which they belonged. François I^{er} himself was interred here:
    but an =urn= to hold his heart was placed in the Abbaye des
    Hautes Bruyères, near Rambouillet. This urn is a fine
    Renaissance work by Pierre Bontemps. Taken to Lenoir’s Musée des
    Monuments at the Revolution, it was afterwards placed beside the
    king’s tomb in this Basilica.

    Look out in the Apse for the Altar of St. Denis, and his
    fellow-martyrs. Near it used once to hang the Oriflamme, that
    very sacred banner which was only removed when a King of France
    took the field in person. It was last used at Agincourt. A
    reproduction now represents it.

    The other monuments can be best observed by the brief notes
    given as we pass them. The arrangements for seeing them are
    quite as bad as those in our own cathedrals, and it is
    impossible to get near enough to examine them properly.
    Therefore, =take your bearings from the Nave= _before_ you
    enter, and try to understand the architecture of the choir as
    far as possible before you pass the barriers.

    Disregard the remarks made by the guide (who expects a tip), and
    read these brief notes for yourself as you pass the objects.]

=Enter the enclosure.=

North Aisle: L, several good mediæval recumbent tombs, mostly from other
abbeys, named on placards. Read them.

Then, =Tombs of the Family of St. Louis=, recumbent, also named: 13th
and 14th cents.

=**Tomb of Louis XII=, and his wife Anne de Bretagne, by Jean Juste of
Tours. After the Certosa monument. Beneath, Twelve Apostles; four
allegorical figures of Virtues: king and queen, in centre, recumbent;
above, on canopy, king and queen kneeling. On base, reliefs of his
Italian victories.

R, column commemorating Henri III, by Barthélemy Prieur.

Stand by =steps= leading to =raised Ambulatory=, only point of view for
=**Tomb of Dagobert=, on opposite side of choir, 13th cent. Legend of
his soul, see above. Erect statues of Sigebert, his son, and Nantilde,
his queen. Insist on time to view it with opera-glass.

L, =**Tomb of Henry II= and Catherine de Médicis. King and queen
recumbent, in marble, below; kneeling, in bronze, above. At corners, the
four cardinal virtues, bronze. Also after Certosa.

=Ascend steps to Ambulatory.=

Below, monuments of the Valois family.

Above, L, second monument of Henri II and Catherine de Médicis,
recumbent marble on bronze mattress. Observe monograms of H and D, as on
Louvre.

Proceed round Ambulatory. =Chapels= to the L have stained-glass windows
of 12th and 13th cents. Interesting subjects, which note in passing.
=**=Beautiful =view across the church= as you pass the transepts.

In the centre of the =apse= of the Choir (above the tombs in Crypt), is
the Altar of St. Denis, with his fellow-martyrs, St. Rusticus and St
Eleutherius—modern imitation of the original shrine, broken at the
Revolution. During the _neuvaine_ (nine days after St. Denis’ day—Oct.
9) the Reliquaries are exposed in the Nave, near the barrier. On one
side of the Altar is a reproduction of the Oriflamme.

Beyond this Altar, continue along the South Side of the Ambulatory, to
the =Sacristy=. Modern paintings, here, relating to the History of the
Abbey. Labels beneath describe their subjects.

Adjoining it is the =Treasury=, containing only uninteresting modern
church utensils.

Beyond the Sacristy, =Tomb of Frédégonde=, from St. Germain-des-Prés.
Hands, feet, and face probably once painted.

Descend steps from ambulatory.

=Descend to Crypt.=

This, the oldest portion of the existing building, was erected by Suger,
to contain the Tombs of the Three Martyrs, buried under their altar. Its
architecture is the most interesting of all in the Basilica. Notice the
quaint Romanesque capitals of the columns. In the centre, bones of the
Royal Family, within the grating. Neglect them, and observe the arches.

In the =Crypt Chapels=, uninteresting modern statues (Marie Antoinette,
Louis XVI, colossal figures for the Monument of the Duc de Berry, etc.).
Neglect these also, and observe rather the architecture and =good
fragments of glass= in windows, particularly a very naïve Roasting of
St. Lawrence.

=Return to church.=

Monument of Du Guesclin, 1380.

Louis de Sancerre, 1402.

Renée de Longueville, from the Church of the Célestins.

=Blanche and Jean=, children of St. Louis, enamelled copper, Limoges;
from other abbeys.

=**François I^{er}=, his wife, Claude, and their three children, above.
On pedestal, Scenes from his battles; High Renaissance work: Philibert
Delorme, Germain Pilon, and Jean Goujon. More stately, but less
interesting than Louis XII.

=**Urn=, to contain heart of François I^{er}, from the nunnery of Hautes
Bruyères.

Louis d’Orléans and Valentine of Milan, from the Church of the
Célestins.

Charles d’Étampes; 1336, with 24 small figures of saints.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Leave the enclosure and return to the church. I advise you then to read
this all over again, and finally, go round a second time, to complete
the picture.

                 *        *        *        *        *

The Abbey and Church are closely bound up at every turn with French
history. In Dagobert’s building, in 754, Pope Stephen II, flying from
the Lombards, consecrated Charlemagne and his brother Carloman. In the
existing Basilica, St. Louis took down the Oriflamme to set forth on his
Crusade; and Joan of Arc hung up her armour as a votive offering after
the siege of Orleans. But indeed, St. Denis played an important part in
all great ceremonials down to the Revolution, and its name occurs on
every page of old French history.

                 *        *        *        *        *

On your return to Paris, you may find this a convenient moment to visit
=St. Vincent de Paul=, which lies two minutes away from the Gare de
Nord.

                 *        *        *        *        *

After visiting St. Denis the reader will probably find it desirable to
examine certain objects from the =Treasury of the Basilica= now
preserved in the =Louvre=. They are mostly contained in the Galerie
d’Apollon, in the glass case nearest the window which looks out upon the
Seine. (Position of cases liable to alteration: if not here, look out
for it elsewhere in the same room.) The most important of these objects
is an antique Egyptian vase in porphyry, which Abbot Suger had mounted
in the 12th cent. in a silver-gilt frame, as an eagle. It contains an
inscription composed by the Abbot in Latin hexameters, and implying that
it was to be used for the service of the altar. Near it is an antique
Roman sardonyx vase, also mounted as a jug by Suger in the 12th cent.,
and from the same Treasury: its inscription says, “I, Suger, offer this
vase to the Lord.” Also, another in rock-crystal, which has been
similarly treated: it bears the name of Alienor d’Aquitaine: she gave it
to Louis VII, who passed it on to Suger: a 12th cent. inscription on the
base records these facts, as well as its dedication to Sts. Rusticus and
Eleutherius. The same case contains a beautiful Carlovingian serpentine
paten, which formed part of the treasure of Dagobert’s Abbey. Observe,
close by, the beautiful silver-gilt Madonna, characteristic French work
of the 14th cent., offered by Queen Jeanne d’Evreux to the Abbey of St.
Denis, and bearing an easily-deciphered inscription in old French. Note
that the Madonna in this royal offering carries in her hand the
fleur-de-lis of France. Compare this work mentally with the other early
French Madonnas we have already observed in the Mediæval Sculpture Room.

Among other objects in this same case observe the curious double cross,
with cover and lid to contain it; where the inscription above the head
of the inner cross indicates the natural origin of the doubling. Close
inspection of this object will explain to you many little points in
others. Several similar Crucifixions, with Madonna and St. John and
attendant angels, are in the same room: compare them with it. To the R
is a good relief of the Maries at the Sepulchre; a double crucifix with
St. John and the Madonna; and a reliquary fashioned to contain the arm
of St. Louis of Toulouse. Most of these objects are sufficiently
explained by the labels: the antique inscriptions, sometimes in Greek,
are easily legible. (Beautiful view out of window to L.)

The examination of this case will form a point of departure for the
visitor who cares to examine the =minor art-works= in the Galerie
d’Apollon and other rooms of the Louvre. I have left them till now, for
the sake of the peg on which to hang them. I will therefore note here,
in this connection, one or two other things which may assist the reader
in the examination of the remainder, leaving him, as usual, to fill in
the details of the scheme by personal observation and comparison of
objects.

Walk down the centre of the Galerie d’Apollon, on the side towards the
windows, passing the tawdry crown jewels, and the many exquisite
Classical or Renaissance works in the cabinet beyond it, all of which
you can afterwards examine at your leisure. (Some of the antique busts
in precious stones come from Abbey Treasuries, where they were preserved
and sanctified during the Middle Ages.) But in the last case save one,
observe, near the centre, a very quaint little figure of St. Lawrence,
lying comfortably on his gridiron, and holding in his hands a tiny
reliquary, almost as big as himself—a finger with a nail on it,
intended for the reception of a bone of the Saint’s own little finger.
This odd little reliquary, French 14th cent., when compared with that
for the arm of St. Louis of Toulouse, will help you to understand many
similar reliquaries, both here and elsewhere. The martyr is put there as
a mode of signifying the fact—“This is a bone of St. Lawrence.” Above
it, note again five charming crosiers, containing respectively
representations of the Madonna enthroned, the Annunciation, the
Coronation of the Virgin, again the Annunciation, and a decorative
design of great beauty. Note their date and place of origin on the
labels. When once your attention has been called to the occurrence of
such definite scenes in similar objects, you will be able to recognise
them at once for yourself in many like situations. In the Annunciation
to the L, observe once more the very odd way in which the usual lily is
carefully obtruded between the angel Gabriel and Our Lady. Some obvious
barrier between the two was demanded by orthodoxy: here, the decorative
device by which the difficulty has been surmounted is clever and
effective. Between this crosier and that of the Coronation, look again
at a queer little reliquary, held by the Madonna and Child, with a glass
front for the exhibition of the relic. Another Madonna, close by to the
L, similarly holds on her lap a charming little reliquary basin. The
same case contains several coffers and reliquaries in _champlevé_
enamel, the most interesting of which is the Coffer of St. Louis, with
decorative designs showing Romanesque tendencies. At the far end of the
case, two charming silver-gilt angels, 14th cent., also bearing
reliquaries. Examine in detail all the objects in this most interesting
case. They will help, I hope, to throw light upon others which you will
see elsewhere.

I do not intend to go at equal length through all the cases in this
interesting room; but your visit to St. Denis ought now to have put you
in a fit frame of mind for comprehending the meaning of most of these
works by the light of the hints already given. I will only therefore
call special attention to the beautiful decorative box, containing a
book of the Gospels, in French enamel-work and jewellery of the 11th
cent., in the last window on the right, before you reach the Rotonde
d’Apollon. This valuable book-cover is also from the Abbey Treasury of
St. Denis. It exhibits the usual Crucifixion, with the Madonna and St.
John, and the adoring angels, together with figures of the symbols of
the Evangelists, whose names are here conveniently attached to them. The
next case, to the R of this one, also contains _champlevé_ enamels of
the 12th and 13th cents., all of which should similarly be examined.
Note among them, to the extreme R in the case, a very quaint quatrefoil
with St. Francis receiving the Stigmata; a subject with which you will
already be familiar from Giotto’s treatment, and whose adaptation here
to a decorative purpose is curious and enlightening. Next to it, L, a
Death of the Virgin. Further on, two delicious little plaques—one, of
Abraham and Melchisedech, with St. Luke—(Abraham, as soldier, being
attired in the knightly costume of the Bayeux Tapestry); and the other
of the Offering of Isaac, with St. Mark; two of a series of the
Evangelists with Old Testament subjects. Above these, the Emperor
Heraclius killing Chosroes, with cherubim. Still higher, a most
exquisite Adoration of the Magi. Also Christ in Glory, in a mandorla,
with the symbols of the Evangelists; and two closely similar
Crucifixions, with a Madonna and St. John, and adoring angels. Compare
these with the similar subject in the first case we visited. This frame
also contains three charming saints in Byzantine style, a good St.
Matthew, and a little King David holding a psalter. Do not leave one of
the objects in this window unidentified and unexamined.

I notice all these decorative treatments here merely in order to suggest
to the reader the way in which the knowledge he has gained of the fabric
of St. Denis may be utilised to examine works of art from the great
Abbey both here and at Cluny. You will find it useful to visit both
collections on your return from such a church, in order to mentally
replace in their proper surroundings works now divorced from it. Some
other good objects from the same Treasury may also be seen at the
Bibliothèque Nationale.




                                  VII
                          THE OUTER RING, ETC.


    [PARIS, =outside the great Boulevards= comprises by far the
    larger part of the existing city. Nevertheless, it contains
    comparatively few objects of historical or artistic importance,
    being almost entirely modern and merely residential. Walks and
    drives in this part of Paris are pleasing, of course, as
    exhibiting the life of the great town, and they embrace many
    points of passing interest, such as the Trocadéro, the Champs
    Élysées, the Champ-de-Mars, the Place de l’Étoile, the Arc de
    Triomphe, the Parc Monceau, the church of the Sacré-Cœur on the
    height of Montmartre, etc., etc. Most of these the visitor will
    find out for himself. They do not need any explanation or
    elucidation.

    Among the very few objects of historical interest in this
    district, I would call special attention to the =Maison de
    François I^{er}=, on the Cours-la-Reine, at the first corner
    after you pass the Palais de l’Industrie. This beautiful little
    gem of domestic Renaissance architecture was erected for
    François I^{er} at Moret, near Fontainebleau, in 1527, probably
    as a gift for Diane de Poitiers, the mistress of Henri II,
    though it is also asserted that the king built it for his
    sister, Queen Margaret of Navarre. It was taken down in 1826,
    and rebuilt on the present site. The style recalls that of the
    Renaissance palaces of Venice. The delicate and beautiful
    decorative work of the pilasters, etc., and the dainty portrait
    medallions deserve inspection. Do not miss this charming little
    building, which should be compared with Jean Goujon’s portion of
    the Louvre, and with the Renaissance remains at the École des
    Beaux-Arts and elsewhere.

    A collection to which a few hours may be devoted, in the same
    connection, by those who have time, is the =Musée Carnavalet=,
    which lies, however, _within_ the Boulevards. The building is a
    fine Renaissance mansion, once the residence of Madame de
    Sévigné. Many of the objects preserved here have a purely
    sentimental and to say the truth somewhat childish interest,
    consisting as they do of relics of the Great Revolution or other
    historical events, which derive whatever value they happen to
    possess from their sentimental connection only. But some of the
    objects have real artistic and historical importance; so have
    the decorations by Jean Goujon. When you have seen everything
    else enumerated here, you may give with advantage a Thursday
    morning to this somewhat scratch collection. The most important
    objects are those in the garden.

    For the Champs Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe, and the other
    buildings or promenades of wealthy, modern, western Paris, the
    guidance of Baedeker is amply sufficient.

                 *        *        *        *        *

The buildings already enumerated and the objects noted in them form the
most important sights in Paris, and are as many as the tourist is likely
to find time for visiting during a stay of some weeks. If, however, he
can add a few days to his sojourn, I give briefly some hints as to a
list of other objects worthy his notice—taking it for granted, of
course, that he will find his way to the Champs Élysées, the Bois de
Boulogne, the theatres, etc., by the light of nature, not unaided by
Baedeker. Amid the mass of information tendered in the ordinary Guides,
the visitor scarcely knows how to distinguish the necessary from the
optional. This short list may help him in his selection.

In the old region on the South Side (between the river and Cluny) are
two churches worth inspection by the antiquarian: (1) =St.
Julien-le-Pauvre=, the former chapel of the old Hôtel Dieu, which here
occupied both banks, spreading to the spot now covered by the statue of
Charlemagne; transitional; 12th cent.; and (2) =St. Séverin=, dedicated
to two local Gallic saints, of the same name; good flamboyant Gothic;
its interesting portal commemorates St. Martin, part of whose famous
cloak was kept in a chapel here; the _façade_ was brought from St.
Pierre-aux-Bœufs, on the Île de la Cité, demolished in 1837; good modern
reliefs on altar represent episodes in the lives of the two saints—St.
Séverin the Abbot healing Clovis, and St. Séverin the Hermit ordaining
St. Cloud. Altogether, a church to be visited and understood, rich in
historic interest.

Among churches of the later period, the =domes= and their development
are worthy of study, as illustrating the ideal of the 17th and 18th
cents. The earliest was =St. Paul et St. Louis= (originally Jesuit),
1627, with a massive and gaudy Louis XIV doorway; interior, florid and
tawdry, after the Jesuit fashion. Next comes the =Sorbonne=, 1635,
interesting from its original connection with St. Louis (his confessor,
Robert de Sorbon, founded the hostel, of which this is the far later
church, for poor theological students); it is the first important dome,
and contains an overrated monument to Richelieu by Lebrun, executed by
Girardon. If you have plenty of time, you may visit it. Then the
=Invalides=, 1705, now containing the tomb of Napoleon. Lastly, the
=Panthéon=, already described. If visited in this order, they form an
instructive series. Note the gradual increase in classicism, which
culminates in the =Madeleine=. The earlier domes resemble those of the
Rome of Bernini: the later grow more and more Grecian in their
surroundings. The =Institut= (included here for its dome) and
=Val-de-Grâce= are sufficiently inspected with a glance in passing.

The churches of the innermost Paris are mostly dedicated to local
saints; those of the outer ring of Louis XIV to a somewhat wider circle
of Catholic interest; among them, =St. Roch=, the famous plague-saint,
deserves a visit; it is rococo and vulgar, but representative. The
churches in the outer ring are of still broader dedication, often to
newer saints of humanitarian or doctrinal importance. Among these quite
modern buildings, =St. Vincent-de-Paul= ranks first, on account of its
magnificent frieze by Flandrin, running round the nave, and representing
a procession of saints and martyrs, suggested by the mosaics in Sant’
Apollinare Nuovo at Ravenna; this the visitor should on no account omit;
it lies near the Gare du Nord, and is a good example of the basilica
style, successfully adapted to modern needs. Baedeker will here
efficiently serve you. But, though artistically fine, Flandrin’s
frescoes are not nearly so effective as the original mosaics in
Theodoric’s basilica. The other great modern churches—St. Augustin, St.
Ambroise, La Trinité, Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, Ste. Clotilde, etc.—need
only be visited by those who have plenty of time, and who take an
intelligent interest in contemporary Catholicism. But, if you can manage
it, you should certainly mount the hill of =Montmartre=, the most sacred
site in Paris, both for the sake of the splendid view, for the memories
of St. Denis (the common legend says, beheaded here; a variant asserts,
buried for the first time before his translation to the Abbey of St.
Denis), and for the interesting modern Byzantine-Romanesque pile of the
=Sacré-Cœur= which now approaches completion. Close by is the quaint old
church of St. Pierre-de-Montmartre, and behind it a curious belated
Calvary.

Those whom this book may have interested in church-lore will find very
full details on all these subjects in Miss Beale’s “Churches of Paris.”
Another useful book is Lonergan’s “Historic Churches of Paris.” With the
key I have striven to give, and the aid of these works, the visitor
should be able to unlock for himself the secrets of all the churches.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Two pretty little parks which deserve a passing visit are the =Parc
Monceau=, near the Ternes, and still more, the =Buttes Chaumont=, in the
heart of the poor district of La Villette and Belleville, showing well
what can be done by gardening for the beautification of such squalid
quarters. The =Jardin d’Acclimatation= in the Bois de Boulogne, and the
=Jardin des Plantes=, at the extreme east end of the South Side are both
interesting, especially to the zoologist and botanist. The last-named is
best reached by a pleasant trip on one of the river steamers.

Of collections, not here noted, the most important is the =Musée Guimet=
of Oriental art, near the Trocadéro. It should be visited (if time
permits) by all who are interested in Chinese, Japanese, and Indian
products. The =Trocadéro= itself contains a good collection of casts,
valuable for the study of comparative plastic development; but they can
only be used to effect by persons who can afford several days at least
to study them (in other words, residents). The Ethnographical Museum in
the same building is good, but need only detain those who have special
knowledge in the subject.

                 *        *        *        *        *

To know =what to avoid= is almost as important as to know what to visit.
Under this category, I may say that no intelligent person need trouble
himself about Père-Lachaise and the other cemeteries; the Catacombs; the
various Halles or Markets; the interiors of the Conservatoire des Arts
et Métiers (except so far as above indicated), the Bourse, the Banque de
France, the Bibliothèque Nationale (unless, of course, he is a student
and wishes to read there), the Archives, the Imprimerie Nationale, the
various Courts and Public Offices, the Gobelins Manufactory, the Sèvres
porcelain works, the Institut, the Mint, the Invalides, the Chamber of
Deputies, the buildings in the Champ-de-Mars (except while the Salon
there is open), the Observatory, and so forth. In Paris proper, I think
I have enumerated above almost everything that calls for special notice
from any save specialists.

                 *        *        *        *        *

Three =Excursions from Paris= are absolutely indispensable for any one
who wishes to gain a clear idea of the France of the Renaissance and the
succeeding epoch.

The first, and by far the most important of these, is that to
=Fontainebleau=, a visit to which is necessary in order to enable you
properly to fill in the mental picture of the change wrought by François
I^{er} and his successors in French art and architecture. It is an
inevitable complement to your visits to the Louvre. This excursion,
however, should only be made after the visitor has thoroughly seen and
digested the Renaissance collections in the Louvre, and the École des
Beaux-Arts, as well as the Tombs of the Kings at St. Denis. Baedeker is
an amply sufficient guide for this the most interesting and instructive
excursion that can be made from Paris. One day suffices for a visit to
the Château and a glimpse of the Forest; though a week can be pleasantly
spent in this charming region. After your return, you will do well to
visit the Renaissance Sculpture at the Louvre again. Many of the works
will gain fresh meaning for you after inspection of the surroundings for
which they were designed, and the architecture which formed their
natural setting.

The second excursion, also valuable from the point of view of the study
of the Renaissance, is that to =St. Germain=, where the Château itself,
and the exquisite view from the Terrace, are almost equally delightful.
Those interested in =prehistoric archæology=, too, should not miss
seeing the very valuable collection in the Museum installed in the
Château, probably the finest of its sort in the world, and rich in
drawings and other remains of the cave-men of the Dordogne.

The third excursion, in every respect less pleasing and instructive, is
that to =Versailles=. This must be taken rather as a duty than as a
pleasure. Leave it for some enticing day in summer. Neither as regards
art or nature can the great cumbrous palace and artificial domain of
Louis XIV be compared in beauty to the other two. The building is a
cold, formal, unimposing pile, filled with historic pictures of the
dullest age, or modern works of often painful mediocrity, whose very
mass and monotony makes most of them uninteresting. The grounds and
trees have been drilled into ranks with military severity. The very
fountains are aggressive. Nevertheless, a visit to the palace and
gardens is absolutely necessary in order to enable the visitor to
understand the France of the 17th and 18th centuries, with its formal
art and its artificial nature. You will there begin more fully to
understand the powdered world of the du Barrys and the Pompadours, the
alleys and clipped trees of Le Nôtre’s gardens, the atmosphere that
surrounds the affected pictures of Boucher, Vanloo, and Watteau. Take it
in this spirit, and face it manfully. Here, again, the indications in
Baedeker are amply sufficient by way of guidance.

When you have seen these three, you need not trouble yourself further
with excursions from Paris, unless indeed you have ample time at your
disposal and desire country jaunts for the sake of mere outing. But
these three you omit at your historical peril.]

                 *        *        *        *        *

In conclusion, I would say in all humility, I am only too conscious that
I have but scratched in this book the surface of Paris. Adequately to
fill in the outline so sketched, for so great and beautiful a city, so
rich in historical and artistic interest, would require a big book—and
big books are not easy to carry about with one, sight-seeing. Moreover,
I reflect by way of comfort, it is not good for us to be told
everything; something must be left for the individual intelligence to
have the pleasure of discovering. All I have endeavoured to do here is
to _suggest a method_; if I have succeeded in making you take an
interest in Mediæval and Renaissance Paris, if I have stimulated in you
a desire to learn more about it, I have succeeded in my object. However
imperfect this work may be—and nobody can be more conscious of its
imperfections than its author—it will be justified if it arouses
curiosity and intelligent inspection of works of art or antiquity, in
place of mere listless and casual perambulation.

It is common in England to hear superior people sneer at Paris as modern
and meretricious. I often wonder whether these people have ever really
seen Paris at all—that beautiful, wonderful, deeply interesting Paris,
some glimpse of which I have endeavoured to give in this little volume.
To such I would say, when you are next at your favourite hotel in the
Avenue de l’Opéra, take a few short walks to St. Germain-des-Prés, the
Place des Vosges, St. Étienne-du-Mont, St. Eustache, and Cluny, and see
whether you will not modify your opinion.

                                THE END.




                               I N D E X


Ancient Sculpture, 154-168.
Antinous, 163.
Archæology, Prehistoric, 251.
Armour, 46.
Assyrian Antiquities, 189.

Boucher, 111.
Boulevards, The, 197, 198, 208, 209.
Burgundian Art, 175, 177.

Canova, 188.
Carnavalet Museum, 247.
Carpaccio, 148, 149.
Carrousel, Place de, 69.
Caryatides, 167.
Cellini, 174.
Childebert, 65, 178, 213.
Christian Sculpture, Early, 193-196.
Cimabue, 74.
Classical Sculpture, 153-168.
Claude of Lorraine, 108, 110.
Cluniac Priory, 211.
Cluny, The Museum, 37-55.
Colombe, Michel, 179, 225.
Copies, Museum of, 225-229.
Correggio, 85.

Dagobert, Tomb of, 237.
David, 112, 114.
Debrosse, Jacques, 215, 224.
Delacroix, 114.
Delaroche, Paul, 109, 114, 229.
Della Robbia, 48, 170, 171.
Diana of Gabii, The, 162.
Dieulafoy Collection of Persian Antiquities, 190, 191.
Donatello, 169, 170.
Drawings, Collection of, 192.
Dutch School of Painting, The, 104, 105, 114.

Ebony carvings, 53.
École des Beaux-Arts, The, 224-229.
Egyptian Antiquities, 189.
Enamels, 49, 50, 244.
English School of Painting, The, 107.
Etruscan Antiquities, 192.

Faubourg St. Germain, The, 35, 213-229.
Flandrin, Frescoes by, 218-220, 248.
Flemish School of Painting, The, 100-106.
Fontainebleau, 250.
Fontaine des Innocents, 203.
Fontaine St. Sulpice, 223.
Fra Angelico, 78, 150.
Fragonard, 111, 113.
François I., Tomb of, 238.
Frédégonde, Tomb of, 238.
French School of Painting, The Early, 99, 100, 108-114.
French School of Painting, The Modern, 107, 114, 115, 223.
French Sculpture, 174-188.
Frescoes, 83, 144, 219.

German School of Painting, The, 106, 107.
German Sculpture, 181.
Ghirlandajo, 81, 151-153.
Giotto, 74.
Goldsmith’s Work, 53, 193.
Goujon, Jean, 67, 70, 167, 182-187, 203, 225, 247.
Greek Sculpture, 155-163.
Greuze, 111, 113.
Guimet Museum, 249.

Hermaphrodite, 158, 168.
Holbein, 106, 107.
Hôtel de Ville, The, 200.

Île de la Cité, The, 12, 13, 16-30.
Ingres, 84, 114.
Italian Pictures, 74-99.
—— Sculpture, 169-174.
Ivories, 52, 53, 192.

Labarum, The, 194.
Lebrun, Madame, 110, 112.
Le Sueur, 109.
Limoges Enamels, 50.
Leonardo, 87, 89, 92.
Louvre, The, 15, 62-196, 242-245.
Luini, 83, 145-148.
Luxembourg Museum, 223.
—— Palace, 215, 224.

Madeleine, The, 209.
Madonnas, 131-143.
Maison de François I, 246.
Majolica, 170.
Mantegna, 80, 85, 116-124.
Massone, 124-126.
Médicis, Marie de, 102-104.
Memling, Hans, 84, 85, 101.
Michael Angelo, 172.
Millet, 115.
Mino da Fiesole, 173, 174.
Mithra of the Capitol, The, 166, 167.
Moabite Stone, The, 189.
Mohammedan Potteries, 50.
Montmartre, 249.
Murillo, 89, 98.

Nikè of Samothrace, The, 73.
Notre-Dame, 22-30.

Opéra House, The, 210.

Paintings in the Louvre, 27-153.

Palais Bourbon, The, 216.
—— de Justice, The, 16-18.
—— Royal, The, 199.
Panthéon, The, 56-58.
Persian Antiquities, 191.
—— Pottery, 51.
Perugino, 75.
Phœnician Antiquities, 189.
Pilon, Germain, 18, 44, 183-186, 238, 239.
Place des Victoires, 207.
—— des Vosges, 212.
Pottery, 46-48, 192.
Poussin, N., 108, 110.
Predella, 117.
Primitifs, Salle des, 73-83.
Puvis de Chavannes, 58.

Quai d’Orsay, The, 217.
Quentin Matsys, 101.

Raphael, 85, 88, 95, 126-130, 227.
Reliquaries, 193, 242-245.
Renaissance Paris, 62-71.
—— Sculpture, 168-187.
Rhodian Pottery, 50, 51.
Rive Droite, The, 197-212.
Rive Gauche, The, 34-61.
Roman Paris, 12, 35, 55.
Roman Sculpture, 163-167.
Romanesque Architecture, 215.
Rubens, 102-104, 106.

Sainte Chapelle, The, 19-22.
St. Denis, 13, 14.
—— Abbey of, 230-245.
St. Étienne-du-Mont, 56, 58-60.
St. Eustache, 203-207.
St. Geneviève, 13, 14, 15, 55.
St. Germain, 251.
St. Germain-des-Près, 213-215, 217-221.
St. Germain l’Auxerrois, 64-66.
St. Gervais, 201-203.
St. Merri, 202.
St. Sulpice, 221-223.
St. Vincent, 213.
St. Vincent de Paul, 248.
Salon Carré, The, 84-90.
Salle Duchâtel, The, 83, 84.
Salle de Pheidias, The, 157.
Sarcophagi, 158, 159, 194.
Sculpture at Cluny, 38-54.
—— in the Louvre, 72, 73, 153-188.
Sorbonne, The, 248.
Spanish School of Painting, The, 97, 98.
Spanish Carving, 40.
Sposalizio, 227.

Tanagra Figures, 192.
Tapestry, 40, 42, 44, 48.
Thermes, The, 12, 35, 55.
Titian, 92, 93.
Trocadéro, The, 249.
Troyon, 115.
Tuileries, The, 199.

Van Dyck, 105.
Van Eyck, 87.
Vases, Greek, 192.
Vendôme Column, The, 210.
Venus of Arles, The, 161.
Venus of Milo, The, 159, 160.
Veronese, 86, 90.
Versailles, 251.

Watteau, 111, 113.

    Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.




                           TRANSCRIBER NOTES


Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained.

Some illustrations were moved to facilitate page layout.

[The end of _Paris_, by Grant Allen.]





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paris, by Grant Allen

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