Kitabı oku: «Paris. Grant Allen's Historical Guides», sayfa 16
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 Ier, 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.
