Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

= Se =. — —— ee, ee Se —_—_ — — Se =o 2 We = ae -~ ——— + oe oa = ee _—— a |i » . f AG THE HUNCHBACK O¥ NOTRE-DAME. — —+-_—_—— ~~ | ee Ville I'Eveque. At the horizon, a borderof hills ar-;. These are no doubt most splendid structures. Add! The ving cragieze which lay upon this hard couoh ranged in # circle, like the rim of the basin. Lastly, | to thema great many handsome streets, amusiny and in wirted tu is, viewed from a balloon, may some day present to rréta ; to the north St. Denis and its spire ; _the eye that richness of lines, that luxury of details, Lo the West, St. Cloud and its keep. Such was the Paris that civegaity of aspects, a certain combination of the e -en from the top of the towers of Notre-Dame by the grand with t ray ens living in the year 1482. The Paris re % it was an homogeneous cit historical production of the bastard Roman and the Gothic, a the pane & omg! had long before disappeared, except at the 80 A pet Sree it still peered above the thick crust of ithe Middle Ages. Asfor the Celtic stratum, no speci- guena of that were now tobe found even in ing wells. Fifty years later, when the regeneration came to blend with this unity so severe and yet so diversified the Gazziing luxury of its fantasies and its systema, its Pe ay a of Roman arches, Greek columns, and thic ellipses, its sculpture so delicate and so ideal, its particular style of arabesques and acanthi, its architectural paganism contemporaneous with Luther, — was perhaps still more beautiful, though less monious to theeye and the mind. But this splendid moment was of short duration ; the regeneration was not a aes ; it was not content with building up, it wanted to throw down ; it is true enough thatit needed room. Thus Gothic Paris was complete but fora min- ute. Scarcely was St. Jacques de la Boucherie finished when the demolition of the old Louvre was begun. Since that time the greatcity has been daily increas- ing in deformity. The Gothic Paris, which swept away the bastard Roman, has been in its turn swept away ; butcan any one tell what Paris has succeeded it? ere is the Paris of Catherine de Merlici at the Tuil- eries, the Paris of Henry II. at the Hotel de Ville; two edifices still in a style; the Paria of Henry IV. at the Place Royale—tronts of brick with stone quoins, and slated roofs—tri-colored houses ; the Paris of Louis . at Val de Grace—a squat, clumsy style, something -bellied in the coluinn and hunchbacked in the ; the Paris of Louis XIV., at the invalides, grand, rich, gilded, and cold; the Paris of Leuis XV., at St. Bulpice—volutes, knots of ribands, clouds, vermicellies, chicories, and the Lord knows what, all in stone; the Paris of Louis XVI., at the Pantheon—a wretched copy of St. Peter’s at Rome ; the Paris of the Republic, at the School of Medicine—a poor Greek and Roman style, re- f ling the Coliseum or thé Parthenon as the consti- tution of the year 3 does the laws of Minos—it is called in architecture, the Messidor style ; the Paris of Napoleon, at the Place Ve this is sublime—a column of f bronze made of cannon ; the Paris of the Restoration, at-the Exchange—a very white colonnade supporting a very smooth frieze; the whole is s yuare, and cost a}: millions, ‘ith each of these characteristic structures a certain number of houses sca over the different quarters runged themselves by a similiarity of style, fashion, and altitude; these are easily distinguished by the eye of tiie conn ur. Posséssing this tact, you discover the spirit of an age and the physiognomy of a king even in thé knocker of a door. The Paris of the present day has no general physiog: nomy. It is a collection of specimens of various ages, tiie finest of which have ppeared. The capital increases yin houses, and what houses! At the rite that Paris is now going on,it will be renewed very years. Thus the historical signification of its architecture is daily becoming obliterated. The monuments of past times are becoming more and more pe Bay you fancy you see them engulfed one after another in the deluge of houses. r fathers had ind 1 of stone; our children will have a Paris of r. , ‘ . As for the er abs that we them quite as much af is fitting. M. Soufflot’s St. Genevieve is certainly the most beautiful Bavoy cake that ever was made in stone. The Palace of the Legion of Honor is also 8 most remarkable piece of pastry. The dome of the Halle au Ble is an English jockey-cap on a large scale. The towers at St. Sulpice are two odern structures of New Paris we would n from apy mention of them. Not but nets, and that isa shapeas well as any other ; the Sclegeaph, writhing and grinning, forms a charming accession upon their roof. St. Roch has a Reese eomparable for magnificence to that of St. 1omas Aquinas alone. It has also a Calvary in alto- ‘lievo in acellar, anda sun of gilt wood. These are absolutely — things. The lantern in the laby- rynth of the J des Plantes is also a most ingeni- on oe As forthe Exchange, which is Greek in its colonnade, Roman in the circular arches of its doors and windows, and belongs to the reyenerated style in por eee elliptic vault—it is indubitably a most pure classic structure ; in proof of which it is crowned by an traigh et not as was ally ‘be wool in Athens—a beau- tiful s gracefully broken here and there b stove-pipes. Add to this that if it is arule that ‘the avchitecture of an edifice should be adapted to its des- tination in such & manner that this destination may be ovvious on a mere inspection of the building, we can- not too highly admire a structure which is equally suitable for a king's palace, a house of commons, a town hall, a college, a riding-house, an academy, a! corded in this history, one fine morning—it happendd ware-house, a court of justice, a museum, a barrack, a| to be Quasimodo Sunday—a living creature was laid sepulchre, a temple, a theater. Exchange. And after all it is an nearly flat as in the East, so that in winter, after snow, it is necessary to sweep the roof, and it is most certain that a roof is intended to be swept. As for that desti- nation to which we Just adve , it fulfills it marvel- es | well: in France it is an Exchange, in Greece it | wooden bed was a copper basin to receive the alms of a the charitable. would have been a temple. of that time was not merelya handsome , an architectual and day appears to you, build up and put together again dle Ages, a chronicle in imayination .of stone. It was a city formed of two strata only, the look at the light through that surprising | ' i eet | | | A building ought moreover to be adapted | bed walled into the porch on the left hand, opposite to to the climate. This is evidently designed expressly that great image of St. Christopher which faced the for our cold and rainy atmosphere. It has a roof kneeling figure sculptured in stone of Antoine des simple, of the beautiful with the un- expected, which characterizes a draught-board. Admirable, however, as the ris of the present the Paris of the fifteenth century ; ost of steeples, towers, and belfries; pour forth amidst the immense city, break against the poinis of its islands, compress within tbe arches of the bridges, the current of the Seine, with its large patches of green and yellow, more changeable than a serpent’s skin; define clearly | the Gothic profile of the old Paris upon an horizon of azure, make ite contour float in awintry fog which cli to its inuumerable chimneys; drown it in deep night, and observe the extraordinary play of darkness and light in this sombre labyrinth of buildings; throw into it a ray of moonlight, which shall show its faint outline and cause the huge heads of the towers to stand forth from amid the mist; or revert to that dark pic- ture, touch up with shade the thousand acute anyles of the spires and gables, and make them stand out, more jagged than a shark’s jaw, upon the copper-col- ored sky of evening. Now compare the two. _ Andif you would receive from the ancient city an im- pression which the modern cannot produce, ascend on the morning of some high festival, at sunrise on Easter or Whit-Sunday, to some elevated point, trom which you may overlook the whole capital, and listen to the awakening of the bells, Behold at a signal proceeding from heaven, for ‘tis the Sun himself that gives it, those thousand churches trembling all at once. At first soli- tury tinkles pass from church to church, as when mu- sicians give notice that they are going to begin. Then see, for at certain times the ear, too, seems to be endued with sight—see how, all of asudden, at the sameé mo- ment, there rises from each steeple, as it were, a column of sound, a cloud of harmony. At first the vibration of each bell rises straight, pure, and in a manner = from that of the others, into the snpendia morning sky; then, swelling by degrees, they blend, melt, amalga- mate into 4 magnificent concert. It isnow but one mass of sonorous vibrations, issuing ince tly from the innumerable steeples, which floats, undulates, bounds, whirls over the city, and expands far beyond the hori- zon the deafening circle of its oscillations. That sea of harmony, however, is nota chaos. Vast and deep as it is,ithas not lost its transparency; you see in it each group of notes that has flown from the belfries, winding | nurses at the foundling hospital in the on the mo of Quasimodo Sunday, in the year in the distance, to the cast, Vincennes and its seven diversified as the Rue de Rivoli, and I despair not that ‘of our Lord, 1467 appeared to éxcite a high degree of drangular towers ; to the south, Bicetre and its | _ curiosity in the considerable concourse of persons who had collected around it. They consisted chiefly of the fair sex, being almost all of them old woman. In the front row, nearest to the bed} were four whom from their gray cassock you would judge to belong to some religious sisterhood, I seeno reason why history should not transmit to | nah the namés of these four discreet and venerable matrons. They were Agnes la Herme, Jehanne dela Tarme, Henriette Ay Gaulticre, and Gauchere la Violette, all tour widows, and sisters of the chapel of Etienne Haudry, who had left their house with the permission of their superior, and agreeably to the statutes of Pierre d’Ailly for the purpose of attend- ing divine service, f however, these good creatures were observing the statutes of Pierre G Siny they were certainly violating r ey a age Se 0 ‘r de Brache atid the Car- nal o a, which most inhumanly imposed on them the law of silence. ay abe “ What is that, sister ?’’ said Agnes to Gauchere, look- ing intently at the little creature, yelping and writhing on the wooden couch, and terrified at the number of strange faces. , - t will the world come to,” said Jehanne, “if that is the way they make children now-a-days !"” “T don’t pretend to know much about children,” re ame Agnes, ‘“‘but it must be a sin to look at that t n gs : “"Tia not a child, Agnes—’tis a mis-shapen ape,’ observed Gauchere. ere, Se “*Tis a miracle!” ejaculated La Gaultiere. - “Then,” remarked Agnes, “this is the third since Letare Sunday, for it is not a week since we had the miracle of the acoffer of the pilgrims punished by our Lady of eueer yee. and that was the second miracle of the month.” “This foundling, as they call it, ia a real monster of abomination,”’ resumed Jehanne. He bellows loud enough to deafen a chanter,” con- tinued Gauchere. . “ And to pretend that Monsieur de Refms could send this fright to Monsieur de Paris! added La Gaultiere, mapas her hands. , | “T cannot help geen, said Agnes la Herme, “that it is some brute, something between @ man and a beast—something, in short, that is not Christigm, and ought.to be drowned or burned,” “I do hope,’ resumed La Gaultiere, “that nobody will apply for it.” “ Good God !’’ exclaimed Agnes, “how I ity the poor q ne yonder along apart; you may follow the dialogue by turnslow | going down to the river, close by the archbishop’s, if and shrill; you may see the octaves skipping from this little monste? should Be c steeple to steeple; you watch them springing light-. suckled! ping dull, vampire !”’ winged, sonorous from the silver bell, drop faint and feeble from the wooden; you admire the rich mut Meessantly running up and down the seven to them to ba ed Why, I declare, I woud rather su a “Poor la Herme! what a simpleton she is!” rejoined Jehanne. “Don’t you see, sister, tha this rp eta a . bella of St. Eustache; you see clear and rapid notes | ster is at least four years old, and that he would like a dart abont in all directions, make three or four lumin ous “ zags, and vanish like lightning. Down yonder, the. \bbey of St. Martin sends forth its harsh; sharp | ourselves to call it an tones; here the Bastile raises its {sinister and husky | infant. It was a little, shapéless, moving lump of meat a deal better than your breast?” In fact, ‘* this little monster ''—we should be puzzled ing else—was not a new-born ass, tied voice; at the other extremity, it is the great tower of up in a hempen bag, marked with the initials of the Louvre, with its counter-tenor. splendent trills, upon which falls, at measu ‘in- tervals, the heavy toll from the belfry of Notre Dame, which makes them sparkle like the anvil tinder the hammer. From time to time you see tones of all shapes proceeding from the — peal of St. Germain des Pres passiny before you. en again, at intervals, this mass of sublime sounds opens and makes way for the stretto of the Ave Maria, which glistens like an aigrette of stars. Beneath, in the deepest part of the concert, you distinguish confusedly the singing within the churches, which transpires through the vibrating pores of théir vaults. Verily this is an opera which is wel} worth listening to. Im an ordinary way, the noise issuing from Paris in the day-time is the talking of the city ; at night itis the breathing of the city ; in this case it is the singing of the city. Lend your the buzz of half a million of human beings, the eternal murmur of the river, the infinite piping of the wind, the graye and distant quartet of the four forests grees like immense organs on the four hills of the orizon : soften down, as with a demi-tint, al that is tvo shrill and too harsh in the central mass of sound— and say if you know any thing in the world more rich, more gladdening, more dazzling, than the tumult of bells; than that furnace of music; than those ten thousand brazen tones breathed all at once from flutes ot stone three hundred feet high, than that city which is bnt une orchestra, than that symphony rushing and roaring like a tempest, BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. THE FOUNDLING. SIXTEEN years before the period of the events Te- after mass.in the Ghurch of Notre-Dame in the wooden Essarts, knight, till 1413, when both saint and sinner were thrown down. On this wooden bed it was cus- tomary to expose foundlings to the public charity. Any one took them who felt so disposed. Before the CCC LT Ett tet tt ttt a delicate finger to each letter of J | scription at ear then to this futti of steeples, diffuse over the whole | ENF ANS taocem (FOUNPLINGS). “I really disgust, ‘that children only were expo silver florin, which rahg amon poor sisters of the chapel of Etienne Haudry litt eyes in astonishment. The royal chimes | Guillaumaé Chartier, the thén Bishop of Paris, and of the palace, throw out incessantly on all sides re- | leaving the head alone exposed. ! ng And that head was so deformed as 9 be absolutely hideous: nothing vib to be seen upon it but a forest of red bair, one eye, a mouth, and teeth. The eye wept, the mouth cried, and the teeth seemed sadly in want of something to bite. The whole was struggling in the sack, to the no small wonderment of the crowd imcessantly coming and going and increasing around it. Dame Aloise de Gondelaurier, a noble and wealth lady, who held by the hand a sweet little girl cae’ six,years old, and had a long veil hanging from the gold peak of her bonnet, sto before the bed, and for 4 moment surveyed the unfertunate creature, while her charming little daughter, Fleur-le-lys, dressed entirely in silk and velvet, pointing with her 6 permanent in- ed to the wooden bed, spelt the words away with here.” into the basin a the liards, and made the their thought,”’ said the ee eamning Assheturned her back, she threw A moment afterward, the ve and learned Robert Mistricolle, the king's prothonotary, passed with an selleGuillemette 14 Mai F selle Guilleme airesse, under the other, th . ing at his side two regulators, the one ipestieni, tee ‘Under one arm, and his wife, Damoi- er temporal. “A foundling !" he exclaimed, after intently examin- ing the object—found apparently on the. | ooh Pp y he.bank of the “ He seems to have but one eye,’ observed Damoi- selle Guillemette; “and there's a vreat nt ap “Hreat wart over the “'Tis no wart,” replied Master Robert Mistricolle, “but anegg, which contains another demon exactly like this, with another litt] ' devil, andso on.” © 68 containing a third ‘La! how know you that?’ asked Gnilemette “— know it pertinently,”’ replied the prothonotary. Mr. Prothonotary,” inquired Gauchere, “what prophesy you from this kind of foundling ?’’ : The atest calamities,’’ re lied Mistricolle. Gracious Heaven !” exclaim an old woman who stood by, ‘‘no wonder we had such a pestilence lust ear, and that the Eng) ; ns Avice 08: Masato ne ish, it is said, are going to iand “ Perhaps that may not prevent the queen from com- ing to Paris in Be x « 6 is very flat alread +: ane rejoined another: “trade y: 0)(6)(6) —— ti — ..- ae