portrait has therefore had its dust brushed off,
and is the observed of all observers at the
Sirène at Meaux.

The true object of a visit to this
ancient capital of La Brie, once a place
of immense importance, is the cathedral;
which is one of the finest in this part of
France, and in its grandeur and gloomy
solemnity is most imposing. Destroyed several
times, its latest date is of the fourteenth century,
and all that the fury of religious and
revolutionary animosity has left of it is exquisite.
The Calvinists, whose head quarters
at one time was Meaux, did all they could to
get rid of its fine tombs and statues. Nevertheless,
it is rich in sculptured galleries and
majestic columns. There are no remains of
the beautiful monument of a certain Countess
Marie, which once stood between the two
pillars of the sanctuary, and before which a
torch was always kept burning. It was
customary, after incense had been offered
at the altars, for the officiating priest,
before his task was ended, to cast the
holy perfume three times over her tomb in
grateful remembrance of the benefits she had
conferred on the church. This Countess
Marie was the mother of the famous Thibault
Count of Champagne and Brie, whose hopeless
love for Blanche of Castile has been so
often sung by the troubadours. Her saucy
little son, Saint Louis, on one occasion took
the liberty of adding to his mortification at
the beautiful queen's coldness by throwing a
soft cheese of Brie in the warrior Count's
face, much to the amusement of the courtiers.
The cheeses of Brie are as good now as they
were then; when a spoilt child, according to
poets' history, caused a furious war.

In the Chapel of the Holy Sacrament is the
remains of a tomb which has been a good
deal mutilated; but on the walls, between a
series of delicate little arches and columns,
can still be traced a fresco painting, not
wholly effaced. This painting, as well as two
figures on the tomb, represented a man and
his wife, whose names are still remembered in
Meaux, after every other name connected with
the history of the province has faded. Jean
Roze, in the middle of the fourteenth century,
founded this chapel, and was here buried
with his wife. He was a citizen of great wealth
and greater benevolence; and, in order to
render essential service to his fellow townsmen
in time of real need; and, in imitation
of the patriarch, bought up corn when it
could be had cheap, and sold it on the lowest
terms when it was too dear in the market
to afford the people sufficient sustenance.
He founded a hospital for the blind, and left
funds in perpetuity to support it. What
became of them in the numerous overturnings
of the town, does not appear; but a
Jesuit seminary exists where the hospital
stood, and the arms and bust of Jean Roze
are still over the entrance.

Connoisseurs say that the nave of the
cathedral is too short, but the effect is to
make the building appear of gigantic height,
and it seems to me a beauty rather than a
defect. There is a fine organ, and I fortunately
strolled into the church just as a
rehearsal was going on for a grand ceremony
the following day; and had the advantage of
hearing a splendid anthem, which stole
through the empty, silent aisles, as if for
my special delight, as I sat concealed behind
one of the immense groups of pillars close
to the pulpit, the panels of which are the
same as those of Bossuet's time.

Since my visit the long-lost tomb of Bossuet
has been discovered in this cathedral. On the
fifteenth of last November the leaden coffin
was opened by order of the Bishop of Meaux.
The folds of linen that covered Bossuet's
head were cut away with a pair of scissors,
and the features were seen to be very little
changed, considering that the body had been
buried a century and a half. The head was
leaning a little to the right, like to that of a
person asleep. The left part of the face was
exceedingly well preserved, and at once
reminded the lookers-on of Rigaud's portrait
of Bossuet. The white hair, and the moustaches
and imperial were visible. When it was
known that the features could be seen, the
cathedral was crowded. Glass was fixed over
the face so as to preserve it from the external
air, and a funeral service was performed, at
which the bishop officiated. Pontifical ornaments
covered the coffin; a crosier was
placed close to it; and Bossuet once more
appeared as bishop in his own cathedral.
After the mass the crowd walked round
to see the features of the deceased. The
coffin was replaced in the evening in the
vault.

When I walked about the town with
the pastor of the Protestant flock—the remnant
of those who at one time were so
numerous in Meaux—he called my attention
to the spot where a great number of those of
his creed were burnt for heresy. I went
to the Protestant chapel; which is very
well built at government expense. I found
the congregation singularly small, and all
peasants. The subject which the preacher
had selected was the Revolution of China;
and, to give weight to his eloquence, he
read a long account from a newspaper
of two years old, in which the Chinese
rebels are proved to be good Protestants.
What benefit his flock derived from this
information I know not; but I observed
that very little attention was paid to it by
the little boys who sat in a row on a
bench, or the old women who slept behind
them, and who were only roused up at the
giving out of the hymn, in which all assisted
with much animation. The house granted to
the Protestant minister is one which formerly
belonged to Bossuet.

I was strolling in search of the castle—
which is now, I found, only a name—and was