The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1881-07-14
In the Church of the Madeleine.

Sauntering along the Boulevard Capu-
cines, 1 came in front of the grand
church of the Madeleine. The gigantic
bronze doors were hung with black
cloth. I pressed my way through the
crowd and entered. The wax lights
burning, the coffin covered with flowers,
in the center innumerable priests
gesticulating and praying, the low words
in Latin of one of the holy fathers. the
occasional notes sad and solemn from
the great organ above, told too well the
nature of the ceremony. 1t was the
funeral service of late admiral in the
French navy. Out of doors were more
than two thousand soldiers, ahorse and
on foot, who had attended his remains
from his apartments in the Rue de La
Paix to the Madeleine. The church it
self was packed with persons most of
them distinguished in politics, literature,
science and art Grand commanders and
chevaliers of the Legion of Honor, field
officers and sous officers from the army;
foreign ambassadors in their gold-fringed
garments, and members of the Institute
wearing their famous livery of green;
parsons in priestly robes and sad faced
nuns in their ugly frocks and hideous
white bonnets; professional gentleman
in evening dress, and working men in
their blue blouses-all present-who
came out of curiosity to assist at the sad
rites. had never before taken notes of
this very singular edifice. King Louis
XIV started to build this structure. The
work was suspended at the revolution,
was remodeled by Napoleon for the erec-
ton of temple of glory in honor of the
grand army, then changed again to its
original purpose by Louis XVIII. and
finally completed by Louis Philippe.
It is said the plans were taken from a
heather temple, and certainly it has
none of the appearance of Christian
church. More than one tourist has
asked me "What bank is that?" or
"What public building is yonder?"
pointing at the same time to the Made
1eine. There is something exceedingly
imposing in its external aspect. Without
dome, towering or side windows, it
stands on an elevated base, majestically
supported on every side by lofty range
of massive Corinthian columns. Inside
colossal statues of countless saints stand
in inches in the walls. There are
splendid paintings, many marble affairs
and over-much of gliding.
The sad service progressed but was
too busy noting the spectators to pay at
tention to the ritual. Suddenly, how
ever, in a pause in the service the i'm
mense organ played till the vaulted roof
appeared fairly to tremble and the deep
bass notes seemed like the reverberations
of half suppressed thunder. They yielded
to the fute-like cadences of lovely
duetto. Then from an invisible source
there stole on the earth plaintive silverly
notes of one Of the sweetest solos to
which I even listened. It seemed like
the voice of pure spirit interceding in
behalf of the dead admiral and for the
sins of all of us living ones. Now it
grew fainter and fainter, and presently,
as soothingly as the last tones Of harp,
it was gently hushed. It was the voice
of M lie Isaacs, prima donna at the opera
comique and mistress of one of the
Rothschilds; but, oh, it seemed like
that of an angel. The services were
short and the remains were hurried
away into the country. The black cloth
was hastily taken down, the crowd dis
persed, and then as I fingered I saw a
bridal couple entering through the very
doors they had just borne the body of
the dead sailor There were orange
blossoms and white satin and fragrant
flowers, and the same grand organ pealed
forth the wedding march, and all was
bright and glorious, where, only few
minutes before, gloom and great distress
| prevailed amonga multitude of mourners.
Parts Cor. Kansas City Times.