The Churches of Paris, from Clovis to Charles X. Beale Sophia
son corps, ramassé dans sa courte grosseur,
Fait gémir les coussins sous sa molle épaisseur."
The canons are touched off with an equal vivacity; all their failings and follies, their idleness and their gluttony, brought into the pure light of day:
"Parmi les doux plaisirs d'une paix fraternelle,
Paris voyait fleurir son antique chapelle;
Ses chanoines vermeils et brillants de santé
S'engraissaient d'une longue et sainte oisiveté;
Sans sortir de leurs lits, plus doux que leurs hermines,
Ces pieux fainéants faisaient chanter matines,
Veillaient à bien diner, et laissaient en leur lieu
A des chantres gagés le soin de leur Dieu."
And then the "machine" itself, the offending lutrin, is described:
"Aussitôt dans le chœur la machine emportée,
Est sur le banc du chantre à grand bruit remontée,
Ses ais demi-pourris, que l'âge a relâchés,
Sont à coups de maillet unis et rapprochés;
Sous les coups redoublés tous les bancs retentissent
Les murs en sont émus, les voûtes en mugissent,
Et l'orgue même en pousse un long gemissement."
The dream of the Chantre, perhaps the indirect cause of all the trouble, in making the man cantankerous, and extra liable to be rubbed up the wrong way, is no less worth quoting:
"Les cloches dans les airs, de leurs voix argentines,
Appelaient à grand bruit les chantres à matines,
Quand leur chef, agité d'un sommeil effrayant,
Encor tout en sueur, se réveille en criant:
'Pour la seconde fois (dit-il) un sommeil gracieux
Avait sous ses pavots appesenti mes yeux;
Quand, l'esprit agité d'une douce fumée,
J'ai cru remplir au chœur ma place accoutumée.
Là, triomphant aux yeux des chantres impuissants,
Je bénissais le peuple, et j'avalais l'encens:
Lorsque, du fond caché de notre sacristie,
Une épaisse nuée à grands flots est sortie,
Que s'ouvrant à mes yeux, dans son bleuâtre éclat
M'a fait voir un serpent conduit par le prélat.
Du corps de ce dragon plein de soufre et de nitre,
Une tête sortait en forme de pupitre,
Dont le triangle affreux, tout hérissé de crins,
Surpassait en grosseur nos plus épais lutrins:
Animé par son guide, en sifflant il s'élance.
J'ai crié, mais en vain; et, fuyant sa fureur
Je me suis réveillé plein de trouble et d'horreur."
An order of the Conseil d'Etat, dated March 11, 1787, sequestered all the goods of the chapel, suppressed the chaplaincies and canonries, and ordained that the services should be continued by the king's ordinary chaplains. Three years later, the chapel shared the fate of all the abbeys, chapters, and religious foundations; and soon after, S. Louis' beautiful oratory was closed. The relics were sent to S. Denis, and the other objects were dispersed to the National museums. Propriété Nationale à Vendre was written upon the building, a piece of information which has only disappeared in our own time. Under the Directoire a club held its meetings there; and later, it was converted into a warehouse for corn and flour. Towards 1800, certain ecclesiastics hired the lower chapel and celebrated mass there, but in 1803 it was further profaned; the upper chapel was turned into a depository for judicial documents, and the lower one was given for the same purpose to the Cour des Comptes. In vain Louis XVIII. and Charles X. endeavoured to restore the building to its proper use; and it was only in 1837, in the reign of Louis Philippe, that its restoration was decided upon. MM. Duban, Lassus, Viollet-le-Duc, and Boeswillwald were commissioned to undertake the work at a cost of 2,000,000 francs, a sum nearly equal to the original value of the relics and reliquaries (2,800,000 francs), while it exceeded by nearly two millions the original cost of the building, 800,000 francs. The 3rd November, 1849, the work was sufficiently advanced for the ceremony of the Institution of the Judicature, when the ancient chants were sung as in former times. Since then, until quite recently, a mass has always been celebrated in the chapel, upon the opening of the Law Courts, in the presence of the judges, barristers, and others who could gain admission. But this function has lately been abolished, and the keeper now impresses upon visitors (rather eagerly and unnecessarily), the permission to keep on their hats. "Mais couvrez vous, messieurs, ce n'est plus une chapelle, ce n'est qu'un monument"!
The celebration of the Fête des Fous was one of the customs of the Middle Ages which was very tenacious of life. Although forbidden by the legate in 1198, it flourished for another 250 years. The Council of Paris, held in 1212, endeavoured to put it down; but it was only in 1435 that the Council of Basle succeeded in suppressing it, together with stage plays and other profanities. It was the custom at the Sainte-Chapelle, upon the Holy Innocents' day, for the boy acolytes4 to deck themselves in the canons' copes and vestments, and to sit in their stalls, one boy bearing the mace carried by the precentor as an attribute of his dignity. They were also exempted, during a certain time, from doing homage to anyone. A curious custom prevailed at Easter. At three o'clock in the morning, the clergy, carrying the Host, went in procession round the interior of the palace; and by reason of a foundation of one of the canons, Eustache Picot, under-master of music during the reigns of Louis XIII. and XIV., only his own compositions could be sung on the occasion. On Easter day a chronological table of the principal events and festivals connected with the chapel, with the date and the age of the King, was attached to the Paschal candle. Other customs were peculiar to the chapel, as, for instance, on Whit Sunday, when, during mass, while the Gospel was chanted, an Angel descended from the vault, holding a silver cruet, from which he poured water upon the hands of the celebrant. Flowers, roses, wafers, a white pigeon, a quantity of small birds, and flax for burning, had to be provided by the Chevecier5 in memory of the tongues of fire which descended upon the apostles at Pentecost.
On the Good Fridays of each year the chapel scarcely sufficed to contain the crowds of sick persons who flocked to it from all parts of the city. All maladies were supposed to be curable through the virtues of the holy relics, but specially that known formerly as le mal caduc. At midnight the relic of the True Cross was exposed, and at the same moment the chapel was filled by the most fearful shrieks of these poor epileptics. The afflicted threw themselves about, foamed at the mouth, and fell into convulsions, invoking the aid especially of S. John the Baptist and S. Spire. The people were convinced every year that some wondrous miracle had been wrought; but the abuses connected with this nocturnal exposition were so great that, in 1781, Louis XVI. ordered it to be discontinued. The relics now shown in the Treasury of Notre-Dame, and exposed there during Holy Week, are said to be the veritable ones belonging to the Sainte-Chapelle; but the account of their preservation after the desecration of S. Denis is so miraculous (almost as much so as the original finding of the True Cross by S. Helena) that it requires a large amount of faith to believe in them. The reliquaries were of course all melted up, even Alexandre Lenoir could not save them. Those at Notre-Dame are quite modern, although somewhat of the same form.
Another custom peculiar to the chapel was the singing upon Christmas-day of the hymn "Noël," in place of "O Salutaris Hostia." The former had been originally a joy-song, welcoming the kings upon their entry into Paris; and thus, when our Henry V. entered the capital in 1420, and likewise Henry VI. in 1431, they were greeted with this exclamation.
The kings were not the only
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