Saint-Sulpice Church was not near any of Paris's tourist attractions. Though it was about the same size as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, it generally did not appear in less detailed travel magazines.
It had once been the richest church in Paris. Without that wealth, it could not have expanded from a small church into something so magnificent. It was practically the highest point in the Latin Quarter, with every building around it lower than it. Perhaps that was why its North Tower had served as a telegraph tower in the age of wired telegraphs.
Similar sights could be found not only in cities, but in the countryside of France as well. Sometimes tourists would see a tiny village with an enormous church. Churches were generally both landmarks and sacred places, so they had originally been safe places to hide things. Yet during the French Revolution, Saint-Sulpice Church was looted. Aside from sculptures, sundials, and pipe organs that could not be removed, everything, including the high altar, was carried away. The bells, oil paintings, and chapels—anything of value was stripped clean.
Even the tombs in the basement were not spared. They were dug open, and countless bones were scattered across the ground. Later, kind-hearted people sent those bones to the catacombs, where they were stored alongside remains relocated from other cemeteries. Whether they had been poor, wealthy, officials, scholars, nobles, or beggars in life, no one could tell who was who here anymore.
A seminary was both a school and the alma mater of many famous people. If anyone dared destroy the voices of those famous figures, it would draw public attention. This place was far safer than a city government that changed constantly or a church that could barely keep itself afloat.
Saint-Sulpice Seminary had now become the tax office