The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-06-07

nature. One sees only BONES with the babies,
ALL to unit as the magnet to the pole. turn
ing to the broad gate which leads to the heights
where their soldier sweet hearts are assembling
to the sound of the drill horn. One hears
splash and turns in time to miss the leap of the
carp disappearing in the ripping waters of the
fsh-pond.
The park leads up to the palace of Fontain-
bleau. This palace of twenty kings has an ex-
terror less imposing than many private chateaux
of France. Its history comprises that of Europe
for many centuries, so it is folly for an enter
prising newspaper to attempt the recital The
Parasians don't attempt it either Those but
tertiies which flew away from the train will fit
about the forest till the twilight drives them
back to the great city. History is a solemn, in
fact, very solemn thing to the Partisan. He
has always turned away from it frightened at
his own ghost. That is why he did not have his
lesson ready for the last struggle with his enc
mics across the Rhine.
The interior of the palace rivals in splendor
that OF any other in Europe. From the door
on, at each step, are statues, ornaments.
pictures, mosaics, ceilings loaded with gold and
color, mostly from the hands of Primatice and
Boucher, that painter who crushed roses to
paint love"
Francis l is the principal figure of Fontain-
bleau. With him, are Montmorency, Benvenuti
Cellini, Leonardo da Vinci, Clement Marot, Mar
guerite of Navarro, Diane of Poiti ers, while in
the horizon are Leo X Luther, Henry VIII,
Philip Ii, Charles V. Francis seems to have had
thorns in his crown of roses. Cellini and Prim-
atice quarrel and daub over each others work.
Andrea del Sarto carries off thousands of dollars
to buy paintings and squanders them in Italy
with riotous living
But with all the obstacles, the Fontanbeau
of Francis l remains the embodiment of the
French renaissance. The first who came to
Fontainbleau from Italy was the chief of the
MilaneSe school.
1t was no longer the Leonardo da Vinci whose
elegance and beauty Florence had admired His
clothes were neglected; his hair floating and in
disorder He was broken by age and jealousy.
He had fled from Rome before Michael Angelo.
ltalys loss was Frances gain; for da Vinci
brought with him the Mona Lisa and many of
his best paintings
The stroll through the palace is pilgrimage.
The courtyard for the tournaments in the time
of the gallant Henries the boudoir when
queen, in partibus, decided, while embroi3ering
tapestry, the fate of Spain; the study room OF
an imprisoned Pope; the stairway, the throne
kept sacred to Napoeon-all people the wilder
ness of rooms with life that is past. Rabelais
Voltaire and Talleyrand, three names, not royal,
but three smiles which sovereigns
feared; Moliere Racine, Standardization,
Mazarin, Colbert. the double trio whose lives
measured the greatest glory of the old regime.
Even poor Jean Jacque Rousseau, with his opera
before the king tempts the most indifferent to
linger. But there is humming of voices and a
iuttering Of dainty ribbons in the courtyard
The Parisians are coming from the forest and
the doors close one by one behind the few who
loiter in the palace.
PARIS MAY o.