With the
regrets and sorrow caused by the death of a prince so justly wept,
mingle the hopes inspired by a King already the master of all
hearts. This funeral ceremony when, immediately after the burial
of a monarch whom God had called to Himself, were heard cries of
'Long live Charles X.,'--the new King greeted at the tomb of his
august predecessor,--this inauguration, amid the pomps of death,
must have left impressions not to be rendered, and beyond the
power of imagination to represent."
Reader, if this recital has interested you, go visit the Church of
Saint-Denis. There is not, perhaps, in all the world, a spectacle
more impressive than the sight of the ancient necropolis of kings.
Enter the basilica, admirably restored under the Second Empire. By
the mystic light of the windows, faithful reproductions of those
of former centuries,--the funerals of so many kings, the
profanations of 1793, the restoration of the tombs,--all this
invades your thought and inspires you with a dim religious
impression of devotion. These stones have their language. Lapides
clamabunt. They speak amid the sepulchral silence. Listen to the
echo of a far-away voice. There, under these arches, centuries
old, the 21st of August, 1670, Bossuet pronounced the funeral
oration of Madame Henriette of England. He said:--
"With whatever haughty distinction men may flatter themselves,
they all have the same origin, and this origin insignificant.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56