Burlington High School - Rarebits Yearbook (Burlington, Ontario Canada)

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40 RAREBITS within the massive masonry. Under the great arch is interred the body of the Unknown Soldier and each day the tomb is heaped with fresh and beautiful flowers in honour of the unknown hero who represents the million and a half men who died for France. Since memories of Paris are inevitably associated with Napoleon, the tomb of the Emperor is for most of us one of the impressive sights of Paris. The dome forms in itself a separate church sur- mounted by a great cross. In the in- terior, from the Hoor of the church, one looks down into the open crypt, where exactly beneath the lofty dome, in a sarcophagus of red Finland granite, the gift of Emperor Nicholas of Russia, are deposited the remains of the great Napoleon in accordance with his own wish, inscribed over the bronze entrance to the crypt: Ie desire que mes cendres reposent sur les bords de la Seine, au milieu de ce peuple francais que j'ai tout aimeu. Twelve colossal figures representing the chief victories of Na- poleon surround the sarcophagus and between the statues are fifty-four flags, silent witnesses to the victory of Aus- terlitz. Another famous name, the Place de la Bastille, commemorates a dark phase in French history. It is true that this dreaded state prison has long since disappeared but - one can reconstruct within the line of white granite blocks now marking the place, the outline of the grim old rectangular fortress, flanked by its threatening towers. One can imagine the narrow slits of windows through which the light filtered dimly and from which must have peered the pallid, stricken faces of those despairing suffer- ers, condemned by the infamous Ulettres de cachet to this awful living death. From the Bastille a walk of a mile takes one to the old section of Paris. Less beautiful than the newer, more modern section, it is yet not lacking in interest. There is situated the great cemetery of Pere Lachaise, a small city of tombs. Originally the land belonged to Pere Lachaise, the Iesuit Confessor of Louis XIV and it now houses more celebrities than any other cemetery- city of its size. As one wonders along its winding moss-covered paths, where the footsteps of pedestrians are muffled to correspond with the .solemn stillness around, one notices such names as Patti, Chopin, Rosa Bonheur, Talma, Here, too, is the tomb of Thiers, a former President of the Third French Republic, and by a queer stroke of fate which here combines all nationalities, not far from him lies the body of Oscar Wilde, the English dramatist. The cathedral of Notre Dame and the Church of La Madeleine, we shall merely mention. Those of you who have read Victor Hugo's romance Notre Dame de Paris have received a much more graphic impression of the cathedral than any modern impression-hunting tourist could hope to give. The Madeleine is the finest modern church in Paris with a very handsome interior, but to my mind, its magnificence leaves one cold. Infinitely more beautiful is the less frequently visited old Sainte Chapelle. Tucked away behind the Palais de Iustice, one sees at first only its gilded Spire. Then, as one turns a corner, one comes upon the ancient edifice, termed by Ruskin the most precious piece of Gothic in Northern Europe. Little wonder that the gray old stones are weather-worn for this royal chapel dates back to 1248, when it was built at the earnest desire of the pious King Louis IX to enshrine such relics as a piece of the true Cross, the blade of the lance and the sponge used by Christ on the Cross. The interior at first is a soft, gray gloom, especially if one enters quickly from the glare of the bright streets, but as one advances, suddenly there bursts upon one the full glory of the fifteen windows filled with stained glass of the 15th century-a time when workmen were artists and nothing less than the best was the standard. Words fail to describe these windows. Softly, rad- iantly they glow jewel-like through the semi-twilight of the dim chapel below. Deep wine-reds, rich blues, gorgeous violets mingle their splendour to make of the whole a thing of unforgettable beauty. One looks at the magnificence of the decorated pillars and walls, brilliant with gold and colours, one notices with interest the private niches once occupied by the King and his at- tendants but it is those glowing, vivid windows, made into living beauty by

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RAREBITS 59 aria Elf Miss EDNA SHAXV, B.A. Probably no city in the world has been more frequently the victim of the well meaning but trite lVly Impres- sions -by a Tourist, than has Paris. It has been rightly said that there is nothing new under the sun, so it is with no illusion that we are imparting new information that we venture to pass on a few mental etchingsu gleaned from a visit to Paris. Paris! VVhat a path that name has blazoned in historyl Does it recall to you the glories ofthe great Sun Monarch, that magnificent Bourbon who from the essence of his egotism voiced the most superlative expression of a superlative career: I am the Staten? Does it recall the lurid days of the Reign of Terror when a new France was slowly born under the crimson pall of the blood of French aristocrats? Does it recall a still later day when the pride of the splendid Second Empire was humbled to the dust and the clang of German armour re-echoed through the halls of Versailles-that proud palace of French kings? Or does Paris simply mean Ienny, Chanel, Patou-a row of glitter- ing shops along the Rue de la Paix from which French couturiers periodically issue edicts for a world of women? Paris means all this and more: in its very cosmopolitanism lies a great part of its charm. Let that sceptic who boasts himself suspicious of eulogies on Paris leisurely make his way along the Champs Elysees at the hour of sunset. On either side of him are located magnificent trees, reveal- ing between their gnarled old trunks far- flung vistas of gardens beyond. A mile ahead of him crowning the gentle slope of the avenue looms up theggreat gray Arc de Triomphe de L'Etoile, dark against an opalescent sky. Is there anywhere a greater monument to a consummate ambition than this arch of Napoleon, commemorating on the out- side his victories: Austerlitz, Iena, Wagram-names which made him al- most a world-victorg on the inside, the names of his generals, those of the Old Guard, men who were faithful to him even unto death. The arch is so placed that on the evening of the anniversary of Napoleon's death, the circle of the setting sun, when seen from the Avenue des Champs Elysees, is exactly framed

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RAREBITS 41 the rays of the afternoon sun, that claim one's last look before departing. However, one's ,enthusiasm for Paris is apt to carry one beyond the space allotted. There are so many places in the old city which make history live again before one's eyes. There is, for example, the Conciergerie, a prison famous in the Revolution of 1789. Here the unhappy Austrian, Marie Antoinette, spent the last days of the awful nightmare, which turned the gay, laughing beauty to a sad-eyed figure of tragedy. There is the Place de la Con- corde, one of the finest squares in the world. Here in 1795 was erected the guillotine, and the jeering crowds in the square below watched with horrible glee the execution of their King, Louis XVI, his Queen, his sister, Madame Elisabeth, besides a host of less illustrious person- ages. Surrounding the same square at a later date were built the monuments representing the chief towns and depart- ments of France, and here from 1870- 1918 the undying embers of the French hatred of Germany were fanned by the yearly renewal of the wreaths and immortelles covering the ,statues of 'LPIUNDR the lost provinces of Alsace and Lor- raine. It must be apparent that our mental etchingsn have had a decidedly historical tinge. This is tobe expected but far be it from us to forget other gay little memories that pop up their frivolous heads in the midst of more sombre pictures. There are the cafes, those pre- eminently French institutions, where you sit on the sidewalk on uncertain spindle- legged chairs, eat your ices well flavoured with the dust of the street, and watch the world go by. There is the Grand Opera if you incline to classical opera, the Opera Comique,if you are less seriously inclined or you may visit the Folies Bergere, if you feel like being amused without any effort on your part. Finally dear to the feminine heart, are those long glittering arcades with their tiny shops, where you may buy almost anything in the world and pay almost anything for it. As we have said, the charm of Paris is its cosmopolitanism. There is some- thing there for everyone: and each of us must interpret for himself the spirit of this age-old, ever-young city. Uv- W. --11-I 4 l'l'ol.E iq rig