PANTHEON. ON getting out at the office of the Omnibus, I saw immediately before me, in the middle of a great square, a magnificent building, composed apparently of an ancient temple and a church. The former-which forms, in fact, the portico of the latter, and which stands above a flight of eleven steps, extending for its whole length, and overlooking the iron railing that divides it from the square-is composed of a triangular pediment 129 feet long by 22 feet high, supported by eighteen very handsome Corinthian columns 6 feet in diameter and 60 feet high. The church-looking building contains three domes-a very large one, a smaller one, and a lantern surrounded by a gallery and balustrade-one above another. The object of this splendid pile-for it is not a church-is sufficiently explained by a series of figures in relief by David, representing on the triangular pediment of the portico, France, a figure 15 feet high, attended by Liberty and History, surrounded by, and dispensing honour to. Voltaire, Lafayette, Fénélon, Rousseau, Mirabeau, Manuel, Carnot, David, and, of course, Napoleon and the principal heroes of the republican and imperial armies. Beneath, in letters of gold, is the following inscription: "Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie Reconnaissante."* On entering this splendid edifice, the interior of which, 80 feet high, is a cruciform, 302 feet long by 255 broad, enlightened from above by the beautiful dome and cupola, surmounted by the lantern I have described, and by six semi-circular windows in the massive walls of the building, I was much surprised to find that, comparatively speaking, it was as empty as an empty barn! From the lofty cupola there slowly vibrated a pendu lum, the lower extremity of which, slightly touching some To great men by a grateful country loose sand on the pavement, was very beautifully demonstrating the earth's movement round the sun. Within the immense almost vacant space I observed three statues, namely, of Clemency, of Justice, and, lastly, of Immortality, who, in June, 1848, while she was standing with a pen in one hand to record the "deeds" of Frenchmen, and with a crown of glory in the other to reward them, was suddenly almost shivered to pieces by a cannon-shot, which for the moment threatened, so far as she was concerned, for ever to destroy the immortality she was so generously dispensing to others. After, however, having been very cleverly stuck together again, she returned to her everlasting occupation and, so far as I could judge from looking at her, is not a bit the worse for the accident. On the four pilasters that support the great dome there is inscribed Their names were, however, in letters so small that I could not read them, and I was beginning to think I had come a long way to see a very little, when I observed a handsomelooking priest. three or four soldiers, and two persons dressed en bourgeois following an official very finely attired, who had a lantern in one hand with a few tallow candles dangling in the other; and I had scarcely joined the party when we were conducted by our magnificent guide to a door or opening, where we descended some steps into a series of vaults containing, in various descriptions of tombs, the bones of great men, whose names the guide repeated so monotonously, so glibly, and so fast that it was with difficulty I could only occasionally comprehend him. At the tomb of Voltaire, whose splendid talents had been so grievously misapplied, I had but just time very hastily, by the light of one little thin tallow candle, to copy the following inscription: "Aux manes de Voltaire, *Names of Citizens who died in the defence of the Laws and of Liberty, l'Assemblée Nationale a décrété le 30 Mars, 1791, qu'il avait mérité les honneurs dus aux grands hommes !"* From it the guide, in mute silence, led us circuitously into a corner in which was apparently nothing at all to be seen; he however, struck the wall very violently with a board, lying on purpose beside it, and there immediately resounded from all directions a loud report which echoed and re-echoed along the passages and over the bones of the dead. We now retraced our steps through darkness rendered visible by the gleam of light the thin little candle occasionally cast upon the soldiers' bright buttons and on the gold lace of the cocked hat of our guide. On ascending into the worldthat is to say, into the Pantheon-we all trudged hastily across its stone and marble pavement to the foot of a small staircase, leading by 441 steps to the highest of the three domes. The young, idle soldiers abandoned the undertaking, but the two citizens followed the guide, the priest followed them, and I followed him. On reaching the top of the first dome. from which we were enabled to look down into the great Pantheon beneath, "Monsieur l'Abbé," as we all called him, who, I had observed, had been slightly puffing for some time, took out from underneath his very handsome gown, a large tobacco-bag, a lucifer-match, a small pipe, which he lighted, and then, adjusting his threecornered hat, and looking at us all very good-humouredly, he stuck the thing into his mouth, its wire cover, suspended by a short, little, silvered chain, dangling beneath it. He was a remarkably fine, handsome, able-bodied, useful-looking man of about thirty-five years of age, and his black bands, edged with white, ornamented a neck and throat of unusual strength and thickness. On arriving at the top of the interior dome, supported by thirty-two Corinthian columns, resting on the lower dome, we all found ourselves more or less out of breath. "Sacre nom!" said Monsieur l'Abbé, wiping his brow with his hand, as his stout foot attained the last step. Above us on the ceiling of the dome I beheld a picture, containing 3256 superficial feet, of Clovis, Charlemagne, St. Louis, Louis * To the Manes of Voltaire, the National Assembjy decreed on the 30tb of March, 1791, that he had merited the honours due to great men. + Holy name! XVIII., and three gigantic fluttering naked angels, holding in their hands a scroll, on which, in large letters, was inscribed the word "Charte," garnished with innumerable heads and wings. During the third ascent, the staircase, although not very narrow, was so steep that my face was constantly within a few inches of the black, stout balustrade calves of the legs of Monsieur l'Abbé, whose gown, twitched up by a loop, left them at liberty; and somehow or other I was thinking of English "navvies," when, happening to look upwards, I saw descending, feet foremost, a pair of white-stockinged legs of a totally dif ferent description. I can say no more of them, for infinitely 'ooner than I can write the words there rustled by me a lady's silk gown. On arriving at the object of our ambition—the small balustrude surrounding the lantern which forms the summit of the Pantheon-there burst upon us all a magnificent panorama it would be utterly impossible to describe. The whole of Paris -every window, every chimney, were distinguishable; and as the atmosphere was as clear as that of the ocean, and as the sun was shining with its full power, the contrasts between Immedistrong lights and deep shadows was most beautiful. ately beneath was the green water of the reservoir. From it my eyes irregularly wandered-or rather revelled-along the course of the Seine with its various bridges, to palaces in all directions; to the Tuileries; to the Louvre; to the Arc Triomphale de l'Etoile; to the dome of the Invalides; to Montmartre; to the distant Fort St. Valérien; to the Gardens of the Luxembourg; to the gilt, dazzling, Mercurial-looking figure on the summitt of the monument on the Place de la Bastille, &c. Amidst the mass of houses in all directions prostrate beneath me, two or three broad, straight paved streets. diverging to their respective destinations, were strikingly contrasted with the innumerable crooked ones which here, there, and everywhere appeared for a short distance until they dissolved into roofs and stacks of chimneys of different colours and shapes. In an ancient picture of Paris forty-six years before Christ, which but the day before I had been looking at, the isle of Paris only contained a few rudely-constructed huts without chimneys! The view was as instructive as it was fascinating, and I should say no one can truly declare he has seen the metropolis of France who has not witnessed it. The Charter. On the summit of the Pantheon I was so impressed with the utter insignificance of the deeds of "great men," in comparison with light. air, and other natural beauties and blessings of creation, that I would fain have enjoyed my location. As, however, my worthy comrades, Monsieur l'Abbé, and the rest of my party, had, I found, on looking around for them, left me, -ad as I was afraid if I remained I might be locked up, I descended to the cold pavement of the interior beneath, and after again wondering at its emptiness I determined to take my departure. On approaching the door I observed on the walls the following notice, which appeared at the moment to be rather inconsistent with the inscription on the magnificent triangular pediment above it :— "L'Inspecteur du Panthéon soussigné déclare que les huit gardiens de ce monument n'ont d'autre salaire que ce que donnent les visiteurs.BOUCAULT."* On coming into the warm open air my ideas of grandeur were also, I must own, a little disconcerted by seeing on the iron railings which encircled the Pantheon, on a tiny tricolor flag, affixed to a staff not bigger or longer than a mopstick, the words" Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité." Crossing the square, I descended in a cabriolet on two wheels towards the Seine, through a street (the Rue St. Jacques) so delightfully crooked, irregular, and so sociably narrow, that people living in opposite houses could, apparently, from their windows shake hands with each other. Beside me, in the carriage, sitting on a piece of sheep-skin doubled, was the driver, dressed in rusty black, with a broad piece of dingy crape round his hat. He had a club-foot, only half a nose, but was, nevertheless, loquacious, and so, almost of his own accord, he explained to me that a small four-wheeled public carriage that passed us was called "un milord;" that a "cita dine" is also sometimes called a "coupé ;" and that a "fiacre has two horses. As, according to custom in Paris, he was driving me on the wrong side of everything we met, I asked him whether he found any difference, good or bad, in his occupation since the Revo * The Inspector of the Pantheon declares that the eight guardians of this monument have no other salary than that given to them by visitors. Signed BOUCAULT. |