"His monument, monsieur," said the old fellow, drawing himself up as erect as possible, and dramatically placing his hand upon his left breast,--"his monument is the memory of his brave deeds, which will live forever in the hearts of the French people."

Such a reply, coming from such a speaker, astonished me; and I almost expected to see the staff change to a musket, the tattered cap into a high grenadier "bearskin," and the old blouse into the faced uniform of the _Garde Imperiale_; there was such a flavor of Napoleon Bonaparteism in the response, that that of the garlic was for the moment forgotten, and we considered the reply increased the value of the speaker's services to the extent of another franc.

I stood, afterwards, opposite the spot where Marshal Ney, "the rear guard of the grand army" in the retreat from Russia, the last man who left Russian territory, "the bravest of the brave," was shot according to decree on the 7th of December, 1815. It is a short distance form the south entrance of the gardens of the Palais du Luxembourg, and is marked by a bronze statue of the great marshal, who is represented in the att.i.tude of leading his troops, sword in hand, as he did at the head of the Old Guard, after four horses had been shot under him, in the last charge on the disastrous field of Waterloo. A marble pedestal is nearly covered with an enumeration of the battles in which he distinguished himself He was indeed the "hero of a hundred battles."

Pa.s.sing through another path, we came to the monument of Lafontaine, surmounted by a life-size figure of a fox, sculptured from black marble, the sides of the monument showing bronze ba.s.s-reliefs of the fable of the fox and stork, and wolf and lamb. Beranger, the poet, sleeps in the same tomb with Manuel, a French orator; and just before leaving the cemetery our guide pointed out to us a little cross over the grave of Judith Frere, who figures in the poet's songs as Lisette.

"But first Lisette should here before me stand, So blithe, so lovely, in her fresh-trimmed bonnet; See, at the narrow window, how her hand Pins up her shawl, in place of curtain on it."

But we might go on with a whole catalogue of noted monuments seen in this city of the dead, during our three hours' tour of it--an excursion which, notwithstanding its interest, was quite fatiguing.

The magnificent tomb of Napoleon I., at the Church of the Invalides, contains the mortal remains of the great Corsican, placed here with much ceremony, carrying out the desire expressed in his will that his ashes might rest upon the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people that he had loved so much. Through the great cupola of the church the light is admitted by means of colored gla.s.s, and so managed that it shall fall upon the high altar, the crypt, and sarcophagus with striking effect. The high altar is at the top of ten steps of pure white marble, and is of black marble; great twisted columns of black and white marble support a canopy of white and gold, beneath which is a figure of the Saviour on the cross, upon which the sunlight, falling through yellow gla.s.s, lights up the golden rays that are represented as springing from the back of the crucifix into a blaze of glory, and flashes and sparkles upon the gilded canopy and decorations, is if glorifying the sacred emblems.

Directly in the centre, and beneath the dome of the church, is a great circular opening thirty-six feet in diameter and twenty feet in depth; this is the crypt, and surrounded by a marble rail. Looking down, you gaze upon the sarcophagus, a huge block of red granite or porphyry, weighing one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds, most beautifully polished, brought from Finland at a cost of thirty thousand dollars, covering another huge block twelve feet long by six in width, which in turn rests upon a splendid block of green granite, the whole forming a monument about fourteen feet high. The pavement of this circular crypt is a huge crown of laurels in green marble in a tessellated floor of white and black marble; within the laurels are inscribed Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Rivoli, Wagram, and other great victories, the whole pavement being a most exquisite piece of mosaic work; around the circle stand twelve colossal statues, facing the tomb, representing victories.

We descended to this crypt by pa.s.sing to the rear, and beneath the high altar, where we found the entrance guarded by two huge caryatides bearing imperial emblems; pa.s.sing the sarcophagus, we come to a chapel where is the sword of Austerlitz, groups of flags captured by the French in battle, and other mementos of the emperor.

The elegant finish of the marble-work in the interior of the Church of the Invalides strikes one with astonishment; its joining is so perfect as to be more like cabinet-making than masonry; the light is so managed as to fall into the crypt through a bluish-purple gla.s.s, and striking upon the polished marble, as one looks down from above, gives the crypt the appearance of being filled with a delicate violet halo--a novel and indescribable effect. The marble of the monument, the sculpture, and decorations of the crypt, chapel, &c., cost one million eight hundred thousand dollars in gold--a costly mausoleum.

The interior of the Invalides is circular, with arms of a cross extended north, south, east, and west. The great dome is a splendid piece of architecture, the summit of which is over three hundred feet from the pavement; and high up in the cupola we see a splendid picture representing our Saviour surrounded by saints and angels, which must be colossal in size to appear as they do of life-size from below. In chapels, in the angles formed by the cross, are other splendid monuments to distinguished personages. In the Chapel of St. Augustin is the tomb of Napoleon's eldest brother, Joseph, King of Spain, a huge sarcophagus of black marble; and not far from this is that of Vauban, the greatest of military engineers, also a sarcophagus of black marble, upon which rests an effigy of Vauban; surrounded by emblems, with two allegorical statues beside him. The monument of King Jerome is in the chapel dedicated to St. Jerome, and is a huge sort of black marble casket on gilt claw-feet, upon the top of which stands his statue. A monument to Marshal Turenne represents him dying in the arms of some allegorical genius, with an eagle at his feet.

Each of the chapels is dedicated to some saint, and richly decorated by frescoes representing scenes in his life; but chapels, monuments, and all, are, although splendid, of course insignificant compared with that of the emperor, resting beneath the grand dome in the halo of colored light, before the grand altar, and around which the twelve colossi, with grasped swords and victorious wreaths, seem to be keeping solemn watch and ward over the now silent dust of him

"Whose greatness was no guard To bar Heaven's shaft."

One can easily imagine that Louis XIV. nearly bankrupted the French nation in his magnificent expenditures on the palace and parks of Versailles, everything about them is upon such a prodigal and princely style. The vast halls of paintings, magnificent chapels, theatres, great gardens, statuary, hot-houses, parks, fountains, and artificial basins, the water to supply which was brought about four miles, the _little_ park of twelve miles in extent, and great park of _forty_. When the visitor looks about him, he is amazed at the prodigal display of wealth on every side. He ceases to wonder that over two hundred millions of dollars have been expended upon this great permanent French exposition and historical museum of the French nation.

Pa.s.sing through the town, we entered the Place d'Armes, approaching the palace. This is a great open s.p.a.ce eight hundred feet broad, from which we enter the grand court, or Cour d'Honneur, a s.p.a.ce about four hundred feet wide, leading up to the palace buildings, which are various, irregular, and splendid piles, ornamented with pavilions, plain, or decorated with Corinthian columns, and statues. In the centre of the upper part of this great court stands a colossal equestrian statue of Louis XIV., and upon either side, as the visitor walks up, he observes fine marble statues of distinguished Frenchmen, such as Colbert, Jourdan, Ma.s.sena, Conde, Richelieu, Bayard, &c. Entering the palace, which appears from this court a confused ma.s.s of buildings, one is overwhelmed with its vastness and magnificence. Some idea of the former may be obtained by pa.s.sing through, and taking a survey of the western, or garden front, which is one continuous pile of building a quarter of a mile in extent, elegantly adorned with richly-cut columns, statues, and porticos, and, when viewed from the park, with the broad, very broad flights of marble steps leading to it, adorned with vases, countless statues, ornamental bal.u.s.trades, &c., strikingly reminding one of the pictorial representations he has seen of Solomon's Temple, or perhaps more strikingly realizing what he may have pictured in his imagination to have been the real appearance of that wonderful edifice.

The collection of pictures and statuary in the Historical Museum is so overwhelming, and the series of rooms apparently so interminable, that a single visit is inadequate to do more than give the visitor a sort of confused general idea of the whole. Guides, if desired, were furnished, who, at a charge of a franc an hour, will accompany a small party of visitors, and greatly facilitate their progress in making the best use of time, and in seeking out the most celebrated objects of interest.

Attendants in livery were stationed at different points through the buildings, to direct visitors and indicate the route.

Here, in the great Historical Museum, are eleven s.p.a.cious rooms, elegantly decorated, and containing pictures on historical subjects from the time of King Clovis to Louis XVI. Here is Charlemagne dictating his Code of Laws, Henry IV. entering Paris, the Siege of Lille, Coronation of Louis XIV., and many other immense tableaux filled with figures, and of great detail.

There are the Halls of the Crusades, five magnificent rooms in Gothic style, and forming a gallery of paintings ill.u.s.trating those periods of history, and, of course, such events as French crusaders were most prominent in. The walls and ceilings are ornamented with armorial bearings and devices of French crusaders; and in the wall of one of the rooms are the Gates of the Hospital of the Order of the Knights of St.

John of Jerusalem, given to Prince de Joinville, by Sultan Mahmoud, in 1836. The great pictures of the desperate battles of the mail-clad warriors of the cross and the Saracens are given with graphic fidelity, the figures in the huge tableaux nearly or quite the size of life, and the hand-to-hand encounter of sword, cimeter, battle-axe, and mace, or the desperate struggles in the "imminent deadly breach," the fierce escalade, the terrific charge, or the desperate a.s.sault, represented with a force, vigor, and expression that almost make one's blood tingle to look upon them. Here was a magnificent picture representing a Procession of Crusaders round Jerusalem, another, by Delacroix, representing the Taking of Constantinople, Lariviere's Raising the Siege of Malta, and Raising the Siege of Rhodes, the Battle of Ascalon, Taking of Jerusalem, Taking of Antioch, Battle of Acre; also the portraits of Jaques Molay, Hugh de Payens, De La Valette, and other grand commanders of the order.

Another series of elegant halls, seven in number, had some magnificent colossal pictures of modern battles, such as the Battle of Alma, Storming of the Mamelon, the Return of the Army to Paris in 1859, and Horace Vernet's celebrated picture of the Surprise of Abdel-Kader's Encampment, a most spirited specimen of figure-painting. Then came a spirited picture of the Storming of the Malakoff, Storming of Sebastopol, Battles of Magenta, &c., and several fine battle-pieces by Horace Vernet. Then there are rooms with scenes in the campaign in Morocco, whole galleries of statues, galleries of French admirals and generals, series after series of six, eight, or ten great apartments, each a gallery of itself.

The "Grand Apartments," as they are called, occupy the whole of the central portion of the palace, facing the gardens, and appear more like the creation of a magician, or of the genii of Aladdin's lamp, than the work of human hands. Each hall is given a name, and distinguished by the superb frescos upon its ceiling, delineating scenes in which the deity for which it is called figures. The great Saloon of Hercules has scenes ill.u.s.trating the deeds of Hercules, delineated upon its broad expanse of ceiling, sixty feet square; the Hall of Abundance is ill.u.s.trated with allegorical figures, and the Saloon of Venus is rich with cupids, roses, and the G.o.ddess of Love; then there are Saloons of Mars, of Mercury, of Apollo, of the States General, all richly and most gorgeously decorated; but the grandest of all is the Grand Gallery of Louis XIV., the most magnificent hall in the world, and one which extracts enthusiasm even from the most taciturn.

This superb gallery connects with the Saloon of War and Saloon of Peace, and forms with them one grand continuous apartment. It is sometimes called the Gallery of Mirrors, from the great mirrors that line the wall upon one side. Fancy a superb hall, two hundred and thirty feet long, thirty-five wide, and forty-five high, with huge arched windows on one side, and magnificent mirrors on the other, with Corinthian columns of red marble at the sides, and the great arched ceiling, the whole length elegantly painted with allegorical representations and tableaux of the battles of France; statues, carvings, ornaments, furniture, and decorations appropriate filling out the picture, the perspective view superb, and the whole effect grand and imposing!

It was here that Queen Victoria was received on her visit to Paris in 1855. Here, where, after the London Times and British press had failed to write down the "prisoner of Ham," "the nephew of his uncle," "the ex-policeman," after Punch had ridiculed in every possible pictorial burlesque and slander him whom that print represented as a mere aspirant for the boots and c.o.c.ked hat of his uncle,--it was here, beneath the blaze of countless candles, to the music of his imperial band, and in presence of the most celebrated personages of the French nation, that England's queen danced with--yes, actually waltzed with--this nephew of his uncle.

Opening out of these grand state apartments are various others, which, although beautiful in decoration, are dwarfed by the splendor of the great salons, though some are noted for historical events, such as Louis XIV.'s private cabinet, in which are his table and arm-chair; the room in which Louis XV. died. We look upon superb vases, wonderful mechanical clocks, staircases that are wonders of architecture, and _chefs d'oeuvre_ of execution in carving, graceful curve, and splendid sweep, till finally I find myself, note-book in hand, in a splendid room, gazing upward at a ceiling upon which is a magnificent picture, representing Jupiter, and some other G.o.ds and allegorical figures. It is a work of rare art. I refer to my guide, and find we are gazing up at a picture by Paul Veronese, representing Jupiter punishing Crime, brought from the Hall of the Council of Ten, in Venice, by Napoleon I., and that we are standing in the bed-chamber of Louis XIV., and before the very couch, rich in decoration, and railed off from approach of the common herd, upon which he--though he may have been mighty and to be feared, may have reigned as a monarch and lived as a conqueror--yet, at last, died but as a man.

"Dost thou lie so low?

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils Shrunk to this little measure?"

The great Gallery of the Empire consists of fourteen large rooms, and in these are three hundred huge pictures of the battles and noted events that transpired during the time of Napoleon I., from 1796 to 1810--a complete ill.u.s.tration of the life and times of the great emperor. The views of the battles are very spirited and interesting, and, with those in the Gallery of Battles, will be familiar to many from the copies that have been made of them, and the numerous occasions they have done duty in ill.u.s.trated books. The Napoleon Gallery a volume of ill.u.s.trations published by Bohn, of London, gives engravings of nearly all these beautiful tableaux. Here was the Battle of Marengo, Pa.s.sage of the Alps, Horace Vernet's Battle of Wagram, and Battle of Friedland, and his picture of Napoleon addressing the Guards before the battle of Jena, Gerard's Battle of Austerlitz, Battle of Rivoli,--one vivid pictorial scene succeeding another,--Eckmuhl, Ratisbon, Essling, Rivoli, &c. This Gallery of Battles is also a notable hall, being nearly four hundred feet long, forty-two feet wide, and forty feet in height. The roof is vaulted, and lighted by skylights, which give a good light to the pictures, and the whole effect of the splendid gallery, which is richly decorated, set forth by ornamental columns, with busts of distinguished generals interspersed at intervals, is very fine. In niches near the windows there is a sort of roll of honor--lists of names of generals and admirals who have fallen in battle, inscribed upon tablets of black marble. I must not forget the Hall of the Coronation, which contains David's great painting of the Coronation of Napoleon, for which the artist received the sum of one hundred thousand francs. In this hall is also the Distribution of the Eagles to the Legions, by the same artist, and the Battle of Aboukir.

Behind the Gallery of Battles extends another gallery, entirely devoted to statues and busts of distinguished personages, from the year 1500 to 1800. This gallery is over three hundred feet in length. But even to attempt anything like a description of the numerous galleries, halls, and apartments in this vast structure, would be futile in the s.p.a.ce that can be allowed in a tourist's sketches, and those that we omit are nearly as extensive as those already mentioned. There is a gallery of the admirals of France--fourteen rooms full of their portraits; a gallery of the kings of France--seventy-one portraits--down to Louis Philippe; gallery of Louis XIII.; hall of the imperial family, with portraits of the Bonaparte family; gallery of marine paintings; a gallery of water colors, by French staff officers, of scenes in campaigns from 1796 to 1814; Marie Antoinette's private apartments, in which some of the furniture used by her still remains; the cabinets of porcelains; cabinets of medals; saloon of clocks; great library; hall of the king's body guards, &c. The celebrated hall known as OEil de boeuf, from its great oval window at one end, I viewed with some interest, as the hall where so many courtiers had fussed, and fumed, and waited the king's coming--regular French lobbyists of old times; and many a shrewd and deep-laid political scheme was concocted here. It is a superb saloon, and was Louis XVI.'s and Marie Antoinette's public dining-hall.

All these "galleries," it should be borne in mind, are really galleries worthy the name--vast in extent, elegant in decoration, and rich in pictures, busts, and statues. Then the splendid staircases by which some of them are reached are wonders of art. The great Staircase of the Princes is a beautiful piece of work, with pillars, sculptured ceiling, ba.s.s-reliefs, &c., and adorned with marble statues of Bonaparte, Louis XIV., and other great men. So also are the Marble Staircase, and the splendid Staircase of the Amba.s.sadors. I only mention these, each in themselves a sight to be seen, to give the reader some idea of the vastness of this palace, and the wealth of art it contains.

Think of the luxuriousness of the monarch who provides himself with a fine opera-house or theatre, which he may visit at pleasure, without leaving his palace! Yet here it is, a handsome theatre, with a stage seventy-five feet deep and sixty wide, a height of fifty feet, with its auditorium, seventy feet from curtain to boxes, and sixty feet wide. It is elegantly decorated with Ionic columns, crimson and gold. There are three rows of boxes, with ornamental bal.u.s.trades, a profusion of mirrors and chandeliers, and the ceiling elegantly ornamented. The royal box occupies the centre of the middle row of boxes, and is richly decorated.

On the occasion of the visit of Queen Victoria to Louis Napoleon, this theatre was used as the supper-room, the pit being boarded over, and four hundred ill.u.s.trious guests sat down to a splendid banquet.

Not only have the means of amus.e.m.e.nt been thus provided, but we find in this wonderful palace the royal chapel for royal worship of Him before whom all monarchs are as dust in the balance--a beautiful interior, one hundred and fourteen feet long by sixty wide, with nave, aisles, side galleries, and Corinthian columns, and its elegant ceiling, which is eighty-six feet from the richly-inlaid mosaic pavement, covered with handsome paintings of sacred subjects by great artists. The high altar is magnificent, the organ one of the finest in France, and the side aisles contain seven elegant chapels, dedicated to as many saints, their altars rich in beautiful marbles, sculptures, ba.s.s-reliefs, and pictures--among the latter, a Last Supper, by Paul Veronese, the whole forming a superb chapel, glowing with beauty and art. In this chapel Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were married in 1770.

Verily one gets a surfeit of splendor in pa.s.sing through this vast historic pile of buildings. The limbs are weary, while the eyes ache from the gazing at pictures, statues, perspectives, and frescos, and it is a relief to go forth into the grand park and gardens, where fresh wonders await the visitor. Descending from the broad and s.p.a.cious terrace, adorned by statues and vases, by flights of marble steps, the spectator is bewildered by the number and beauty of the fountains, statues, &c., that he encounters on every side; but the very terrace itself is a wonder. Here are great bronze statues of Apollo, Bacchus, and other heathen G.o.ds. Two broad squares of water, surrounded by twenty-four splendid groups, in bronze, of nymphs and children, are in the midst of vast gra.s.s plots and walks, and among the statues we notice one of Napoleon I. From this broad terrace you descend to the gardens below, and other parts of the ground, by magnificent flights of broad steps. In the orangery or hot-house, orange trees, pomegranates, and a variety of curious plants are kept, many of which are transplanted about the grounds during the summer season. One old veteran of an orange tree, hooped with iron to preserve it, is shown, which is said to be over four hundred and thirty years old. The guide-books say it was planted by the wife of Charles III., King of Navarre, in 1421. Many other old trees of a hundred years of age are in the gardens.

One great feature of the gardens at Versailles is the beautiful fountains. The princ.i.p.al one is that known as the Basin of Neptune, which is a huge basin, surrounded by colossal figures of Neptune, Amphitrite, nymphs, tritons, and sea-monsters, that spout _jets-d'eau_ into it. The Basin of Latona is a beautiful affair, consisting of five circular basins, rising one above another, surmounted by a group of Latona, Apollo, and Diana. All around the basins, upon slabs of marble, are huge frogs and tortoises, representing the metamorphosed peasants of Libya, who are supplying the G.o.ddess with water in liberal streams, which they spout in arching jets towards her. Then there is the great Basin of Apollo, with the G.o.d driving a chariot, surrounded by sea-G.o.ds and monsters, who are all doing spouting duty; the Basin of Spring and Summer; Basin of the Dragon, where a huge lead representation of that monster is solemnly spouting in great streams from his mouth when the water is turned on. The Baths of Apollo is a grotto, in which the G.o.d is represented served by nymphs--seven graceful figures; while near him are the horses of the Sun, being watered by Tritons, all superbly executed in marble. Sheets and jets of water issue from every direction in this beautiful grotto, and form a lake at the foot of the rocks. This grotto is a very elaborate piece of work, and is said to have cost a million and a half of francs.

Besides these beautiful and elaborate fountains are many others of lesser note, but still of beautiful design, at different points in the gardens and park. Parterres of beautiful flowers charm the eye, the elegant groves tempt the pedestrian, and greensward, of thick and velvety texture and emerald hue, stretches itself out like an artificial carpet. Here is one that stretches the whole length between two of the great fountains, Latona and Apollo, and called the Green Carpet--one sheet of vivid green, set out with statues and marble vases along the walks that pa.s.s beside it; another beautiful one, of circular form, is called the Round Green. Here are beautiful gravel walks, artificial groves with charming alleys, thickets, green banks, and, in fact, a wealth of landscape gardening, in which art is often made to so closely imitate nature, that it is difficult to determine where the one ceases and the other begins.

A visit to the Great and Little Trianon is generally the wind-up of the visit to the parks of Versailles: the former, it will be recollected, was the villa built in the park by Louis XIV. for Madame de Maintenon.

It contains many elegant apartments. Among those which most attracted our attention was the Hall of Malachite, and the Palace Gallery, the latter a hall one hundred and sixty feet long, ornamented with portraits, costly mosaic tables, and bronzes. Notwithstanding the eye has been sated with luxury in the palace, the visitor cannot but see that wealth has been poured out with a lavish hand on this villa; its beautiful saloons,--Saloon of Music, Saloon of the Queen, Saloon of Mirrors,--its chapel and gardens, are all those befitting a royal palace; for such indeed it was to Louis XIV., XV., and XVI., and even Napoleon, who, at different times, made it their residence.

The Little Trianon, built by Louis XV. for Madame Du Barry, is a small, two-story villa, with a handsome garden attached, at which I only took a hasty glance, and concluded by omitting to inspect the Museum of State Carriages,--where, I was told, Bonaparte's, Charles X.'s, and others were kept,--the sedan chair of Marie Antoinette, and various curious harnesses. I was a.s.sured by another tourist, who learned a few days after that I had not seen it, that it was the finest thing in the whole palace. I have frequently found this to be the judgment of many travellers, of objects or points _they_ have "done," which you have missed or omitted, and so I endured the loss of this sight with resignation.

But we find that an attempt to give anything like a full description of all we saw in Paris,--even those leading "lions" that all tourists describe,--would make us tarry in that gay capital too long for the patience of our readers who have followed us "over the ocean" thus far.

The lover of travel, of variety, of architecture, of fashion, frivolity, or excitement may enjoy himself in Paris to the extent of his desire.

There is plenty to occupy the attention of all who wish to enjoy themselves, in a rational and profitable manner, in the mere seeing of sights that every one ought to see. There is the grand old cathedral of Notre Dame, famed in history and story, which has experienced rough usage at the hands of the fierce French mobs of different revolutions, who respect not historical relics, works of art, or even the sepulchres of the dead.

The exterior of this magnificent great Gothic structure was familiar to me from the many engravings I had seen of it, with its two great square towers of over two hundred feet in height, with the huge rose window between them of thirty-six feet in diameter, and the three beautiful Gothic doors of entrance, rich in ornamentation, carvings, and statues of saints. The interior has that grand and impressive appearance that attaches to all these superb creations of the old cathedral builders.

The vaulted arches, rising one above another, over a hundred feet in height, present a fine appearance, and a vista of Gothic columns stretches along its length, of three hundred and ninety feet; at the transept the width is one hundred and forty-four feet. The three great rose windows, which will not fail to challenge admiration, are wonders in their way, and, with their beautiful stained gla.s.s, are coeval with the foundation of the cathedral.

We ascended the tower, and enjoyed the magnificent view of Paris from its summit, and, more particularly, the course of the River Seine and the splendid bridges that span it. Up here we saw the huge bells, and walked round amid them, recalling scenes in Victor Hugo's novel of the Hunchback of Notre Dame; these were the huge tocsins that Quasimodo swung, and far down below was the square in which La Esmeralda spread her little carpet, and summoned the crowd, with tambourine, to witness her dancing goat; farther away, to the right, was the street that Captain Porteous rode from at the head of his troop; here, upon the roof, sheeted with lead, must have been the place that the mishapen dwarf built the fire that turned the dull metal into a molten stream that poured destruction upon the heads of the mob that were battering the portals below. With what an interest do the poet and novelist clothe these old monuments of the past! Intertwining them with the garlands of their imagination, they contend with history in investing them with attractions to the tourist.

High up here, at the edge of the ramparts, are figures of demons, carved in stone, looking over the edge, which appear quite "little devils" from the pavement, but which are, in reality, of colossal size. The pure air of the heavens, as we walked around here near the clouds, was of a sudden charged with garlic, which nauseous perfume we discovered, on investigation, arose from the hut of a custodian and his wife, who dwelt up here, hundreds of feet above the city, like birds in an eyrie, and defiled the air with their presence.

One of the most gorgeous church interiors of Paris is that of Sainte Chapelle; this building, although not very large, is a perfect gem of Gothic architecture, and most beautifully and perfectly finished in every part; it is one hundred and twenty feet long, forty wide, and has a spire of one hundred and forty feet in height. Every square inch of the interior is exquisitely painted and gilded in diamonds, lozenges, and fleurs-de-lis; and stars spangle the arched roof, which is as blue as the heavens. The windows are filled with exquisite stained gla.s.s of the year 1248--gla.s.s which escaped the ruin of the revolutions; and the great rose window can only be likened to a magnificent flower of more than earthly beauty, as the light streams through its glorious coloring, where it rests above a beautiful Gothic bal.u.s.trade.

Leaving the Sainte Chapelle, we pa.s.sed a few rods distant, after turning a corner, the two old coffee-pot-looking towers of the b.l.o.o.d.y Conciergerie, where poor Marie Antoinette languished for seventy-six days, before she was led forth to execution; here also was where Ravaillac, Robespierre, and Charlotte Corday were imprisoned; and the very b.l.o.o.d.y record-book of the names of those who were ordered to be despatched during the revolution, kept by the human butchers who directed affairs, is still preserved, and shown to the visitor.

That magnificent Grecian-looking temple, the Madeleine, is one of the first public buildings the tourist recognizes in Paris. As many Americans are apt to estimate the value of things by the money they cost, it may be of interest to state that this edifice cost two million six hundred thousand dollars. It is really a magnificent structure, with its thirty Corinthian columns, fifteen on each side, and its n.o.ble front, with ornamental pediment, its great bronze entrance, doors thirty-two feet high, reached by the broad flight of marble steps extending across the whole length of the end of the building, the dimensions of which are three hundred and twenty-eight feet in length by one hundred and thirty-eight in breadth. The beautiful Corinthian columns, which, counting those at the ends, are fifty-two in number, are each fifty feet in height. The broad, open square about the Madeleine affords an excellent opportunity of viewing the exterior; and one needs to make two or three detours about the building to obtain a correct idea of its magnitude and beauty. The interior is one s.p.a.cious hall, the floors and walls all solid marble, beautifully decorated, and lighted from the top by domes; all along the sides are chapels, dedicated to different saints, and decorated with elegant statues and paintings; the high altar is rich in elegant sculpture, the princ.i.p.al group representing, in marble, Mary Magdalene borne into Paradise by angels--exquisitely done. The whole effect of this beautiful interior, with its lofty ornamented domes and Corinthian pillars, the beautiful statuary and ba.s.s-reliefs, frescoing, and walls incrusted with rich marbles, is grand beyond description.

The Church of St. Genevieve, better known as the Pantheon, is another magnificent structure: three hundred and fifty feet long and two hundred and sixty wide is this beautiful building, and three rows of elegant Corinthian columns support its portico. We gazed up at the beautiful pediment, over this portico, which is over one hundred and twenty feet long and twenty-two feet high, and contains a splendid group of statuary in relief, the central figure of which is fifteen feet in height; but above the whole building rises the majestic dome, two hundred and sixty-four feet. Inside we ascended into this grand and superb cupola, and, after making a portion of the ascent, paused in a circular gallery to have a view of the great painting which adorns the dome, representing St. Genevieve receiving homage from King Clovis. After going as far above as possible, we descended with a party to the vaults below, where we were shown the place, in which the bodies of Mirabeau and Marat were deposited, and the tombs of Voltaire and Rousseau, which, however, do not contain the remains of the two philosophers. We were then escorted by the guide, by the dim light of his lantern, to a certain gloomy part of the vaults, where there was a most remarkable echo; a clap of the hand reverberated almost like a peal of thunder, and a laugh sounded so like the exultation of some gigantic demon who had entrapped his victims here in his own terrible caverns, as to make us quite ready to follow the guide through the winding pa.s.sages back to the upper regions, and welcome the light of day.

An American thinks his visit to Paris scarcely completed unless he has visited the Jardin Mabille. It has the reputation of being a very wicked place, which, in some degree, accounts for tourists, whose dread of appearances at home restrains them from going to naughty places, having an intense desire to visit it; and it is amusing to see some of these very proper persons, who would be shocked at the idea of going inside a theatre at home for fear of contamination, who are enjoying the spectacle presented here like forbidden fruit, quite confused at meeting among the throng their friends from America who are in Paris, as is frequently the case. Sometimes the confusion is mutual, and then explanations of both parties exhibit a degree of equivocation that would rival a j.a.panese diplomat. Those, however, who expect to see any outrageous display of vice or immodesty will be disappointed: the garden is under the strict surveillance of the police, and there is a far more immodest display by the ladies in the boxes of the opera at the Grand Opera in London, than by the frail sisterhood at the Jardin. During the travelling season one meets plenty of tourists, English and American, at Mabille, and hears the English tongue spoken in the garden on every side of him.

Stroll up the beautiful Champs Elysees of a summer's evening; all along, on either side, the groves, gardens, and grounds are brilliant with gas-jets, colored lights, and Chinese lanterns, brilliant _cafes_, with chairs and tables in front, where you may sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and a cigar, or a gla.s.s of wine, while you view the never-ending succession of pa.s.sers by. Just off amid the trees are little extemporized theatres, where the never-tiring comedy of Punch and Judy is performed to admiring crowds, at two sous a head; little booths, with a gambling game, which, translated into English, is "the d--among the tailors," afford an opportunity of indulging in a game of chance for a few sous, which game consists in setting a bra.s.s top spinning in among a curious arrangement of bra.s.s fixed and movable upright pins upon a board; the number of pins knocked over, and little bra.s.s arches pa.s.sed under, by the top, determines the amount of the prize won by the player, which can be selected from the knickknacks in the booth ticketed with prize cards.

A friend of mine, a very proper young gentleman, was so attracted by the gyrations of the bra.s.s top spinning on these tables one evening, that he insisted upon stopping and trying his hand at the game: he did so, and so expertly that he bore off a pair of cheap vases, a china dog, and a paper weight; his triumph was somewhat dampened, however, at being reminded by a lady friend, whom he met with his hands filled with his treasures, that he had been gambling on Sunday evening. It is not at all surprising, however, from the sights and scenes, that one should forget the character of the day, there is so little to remind him of it in Paris.

Besides these booths are those for the sale of a variety of fanciful articles, illuminated penny peep shows; and off at side streets you are directed, by letters in gas jets, to the Cafes Chantants--enclosed gardens with an illuminated pavilion at one end of them, its whole side open, exposing a stage, upon which sit the singers, handsomely dressed, who are to appear in the programme. The stage is beautifully illuminated with gas and very handsomely decorated, generally representing the interior of a beautiful drawing room; the audience sit at tables in the garden immediately before the stage, which, from its raised position, affords a good view to all; there is no charge for admission, but each visitor orders something to the value of from half a franc to a franc and a half of the waiters, who are pretty sharp to see that everybody _does_ order something. The trees are hung with colored lights, a good orchestra plays the accompaniment for the singers, besides waltzes, quadrilles, and galops, and the Frenchman sits and sips his claret or coffee, and smokes his cigar beneath the trees, and has an evening, to him, of infinite enjoyment. I saw, among the brilliant group that formed the corps of performers, seated upon the illuminated stage at one of these Cafes Chantants, a plump negro girl, whose low-necked and short-sleeved dress revealed the sable hue of her skin in striking contrast to her white and gold costume. She was evidently a dusky "star."

But we will continue our walk up the beautiful Elysian Fields; the great, broad carriage-way is thronged with voitures, with their different colored lights flitting hither and thither like elves on a revel: as seen in the distance up the illuminated course they sparkled like a spangled pathway, clear away up to the huge dusky Arc d'Etoile, which in the distance rises "like an exhalation." The little bowers, nooks, chairs, and booths are all crowded; music reaches us from the Cafes Chantants, and peals of laughter at the performances in the raree-shows; finally, reaching the Rond Point, a sort of circular opening with six pretty fountains,--and turning a little to the left upon the Avenue Montaigne, the brilliant gas jets of the Jardin Mabille are in view--admission three francs for gentlemen, ladies free.