The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-06-07
F0NTAINBLEAU.

L would go TO tontalnbeau
1t is the creed of the Parisians. Fontain-
bleau is now the country-seat of them all.
Steam changed her distance of two days into
hours. The republic widened her royal gates
that all the people might enter in. Especially
in May and june before the summer invasion
of the vandals from abroad the multitudes
from the city pour into this Mecca of the kings.
The excursion trains are filed with the
gay crowds. The tops of the cars
are overlooking with lads and lassies
who leave their shops for the haunts of Diane
and Gabrielle. The joy of the moment defes
the narrow compartments made for eight per-
sons. Laughter leaps out at the windows, and
joins laughter. Wit penetrates the walls, and
runs nimbly from car to car. On and on hurries
this animated train, over the Seine and Marine,
past the charming green valley of Villeneuve
bathed by the silvery Yeres, and dotted With
mills, villas and parks. Everywhere a smiling
landscape greets the happy faces. The long,
gray train stands still at the station of Fontain
bleau, and from its sides the butterflies fit into
the forest for summers holiday.
1t is magnificent forest even for an Ameri-
can. 1t has all that makes grand forest
the mysterious shadows where the hermit
Ronchard built his cell, the gloomy caves where
the robbers hid, the open plots where the sky
peeps in at wild blossoms and sedgy pools But
aside from its primitive beauty Fontainbleau is
full Of historic souvenirs. If the trees could
speak French, whose barks are disfg1tred with
royal names, what delicious revenge they might
take! What heroic stories they could repeat
from the eamp-fres of the Crusaders! They
would re-echo the hymns chanted by Louis VII
with the banished Thomas Beckett, Archbishop of
Canterbury. They would sigh as st. Louis,
when he left his court to mourn in their solitude
the ruin of the middle ages. They would tell
much, these trees, for they know much
From place to place in the forest, the crosses
which serve as guide posts to tourists were
formerly the rendezvous for the chase. In
1912 an immense litter carried by eighteen
body guards, passed the Cross de la RENE This
letter contained bed, table, a chair, physi-
clan and minister. The physician was seated;
the minister lay upon a sumptuous bed. 1t
was Richelieu who was on his way to Paris to
die
On the road to Nemours is the Cross st.
Harem. 1t was here the 18th of November,
rained and it was cold. The Emperor was in
hunting costume, in great boots, spurred and
surrounded by his hounds. Everything
had been done to render the meet
ing accidental The rolling of wheels
was hear and soon carrosse stopped at the
Cross st. Harem, Within sat old man.
clothed in white, with a majestic and smiling
face 1t was the Pope The footman opened
the door of the earrosse. Plus VII hesitated to
descend. The path was wet His feet were
clothed in white silk. Ho had no choice how
ever, for Napoleon stood immovable on the step
of the cross waiting until the sovereign pontiff
should make the first step After the descent
a warm greeting followed and drive in great
ceremony to the palace A week later. in the
church Of Notre Dame, the memorable crowning
of Napoleon celebrated. III 1872, past the
same Cross of St Harem, the Pope was led to
Fontainbleau to inhabit as prisoner the palace
whore he had been received as guest.
A long road in the forest leads even to the
church of Fontainbleau in the village of Avon.
The village is empowered in the forest The
church, very old, and | think, Merovingian in
some parts, has no beauty. But one stops,
enters. and stays It is a spot of souvenirs
One is the tomb of Monaldeschi, unfaithful
servant of Christine of Sweden, cruelty assas-
sinated by the order of the ex-Queen. Who
that has read the history of this fantastic
daughter of AdoIphus does not remember her
famous letter to Marazin commencing, Learn,
all, whoever you may be, Wallets and masters
great and sr..aI, that it has pleased me to
kill man. etc. etc. A few years later,
under Colbert and Louis XIV, the daughter of
Gustavus AdoIphus would not have dared to
crafty so bloody phantasy; but in 1851, the
whole world was fired and one human life was a
little thing.
There is another curious tomb in the church.
erected to Philippe le Bel The inscription
claims that the Kings heart was buried there in
1900 PhillipeIe Bel died in 1874 PHILIPPE
like the rest of mankind seems
TO have had difficulty with his heart and lodged
it at Last at the time and place least expected.
The cool avenue of La Princess. where the
trees Irvine their branches into gothic nave was
the morning promenade of Marie Antoinette.
Can you imagine the young bride. on a mule,
pouting that court etiquette forbids a trotting
gait! 1t seems the little Austrian was trouble
some from the first. The hunting horn called
her away to the chase. The wearisome etiquette
vain she petitioned his Maiesty's clemeney for a
repeal of the decree that no princess should ride
horseback before the age of thirty. A long
official correspondence with the court of Vienna
ended with the permission to ride mule at an
ordinary gait and in a shaded avenue.
The forest of Fontainbleau Is inspiration TO
painters of historic subjects Since visiting the
Salon of "a, am convinced that it is the mode
to decry their school; but must confess predi-
lection for this noble form of art. leave it to
YOU O reader, who are not afraid of being voted
out Of the Paris Art Associations Is not
the sacred lneus where the fauns wander,
where the wooisman labors, the Greek fount-
aims where the nymphs battle, preferable to the
Flemish duck ponds and the homely interiors,
where demoralized beer drinkers smoke their
odorous pipest
Vatican chose these broad avenues il early
springtime as the background of the DANES and
cavaliers of the court Theodore Rousseau
went deeper into the heart Of the forest. Diaz
followed with whole portfolio of heather
mythology, Francis Afillet drank the mys-
ticism of these shadows and translated them
into fhe touching faces Of his peasants.
A large colony of artists, among them several
Americans, live in the little village Of Barbizon-
Barbizon Is on the border of the forest. near the
valley inclosed by mere de giaee. a name arts
ing from tho vast piles of rocks thrown up by
volcanic action into masses resembling the
chasms and slides of ice fields. Near the center of
this valley is a table rock where the human
sacrifices of the Druids were inundated. Be-
yond the rocks are mighty oaks. worthy to bear
the mistletoe for the siekles of the priests
Elsewhere, to be reached by a narrow foot
path is the mare aux fees, a great pond where
aquatic plants have grown and aquatic animals
and insects pipe and chirp as dismally as their
cousins in Drummond's swamp. Where the
water cannot reach to irrigate, the grasses are