A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two | Page 3

in which latter plays a small, but, in my
humble opinion, the most beautifully constructed fountain which Paris
can boast of. Of this, presently. The former of these spots is rather
pretty than picturesque: rather limited than extensive: a raised terrace to
the left, on looking from the front of the Thuileries, is the only
commanding situation--from which you observe the Seine, running
with its green tint, and rapid current, to the left--while on the right you
leisurely examine the rows of orange trees and statuary which give an
imposing air of grandeur to the scene. At this season of the year, the
fragrance of the blossoms of the orange trees is most delicious. The
statues are of a colossal, and rather superior kind ... for garden
decoration. There are pleasing vistas and wide gravel walks, and a fine
evening usually fills them with crowds of Parisians. The palace is long,
but rather too low and narrow; yet there is an air of elegance about it,
which, with the immediately surrounding scenery, cannot fail to strike
you very agreeably. The white flag of St. Louis floats upon the top of
the central dome. The _Champs Elysées_ consist of extensive wooded
walks; and a magnificent road divides them, which serves as the great

attractive mall for carriages-- especially on Sundays--while, upon the
grass, between the trees, on that day, appear knots of male and female
citizens enjoying the waltz or quadrille. It is doubtless a most singular,
and animated scene: the utmost order and good humour prevailing. The
Place Louis Quinze, running at right angles with the Thuileries, and
which is intersected in your route to the Rue de la Paix, is certainly a
most magnificent front elevation; containing large and splendid houses,
of elaborate exterior ornament. When completed, to the right, it will
present an almost matchless front of domestic architecture, built upon
the Grecian model. It was in this place, facing his own regal residence
of the Thuileries, that the unfortunate Louis--surrounded by a ferocious
and bloodthirsty mob--was butchered by the guillotine.
Come back with me now into the very heart of Paris, and let us stroll
within the area of the Palais Royal. You may remember that I spoke of
a fountain, which played within the centre of this popular resort. The
different branches, or _jets d'eau_, spring from a low, central point; and
crossing each other in a variety of angles, and in the most pleasing
manner of intersection, produce, altogether, the appearance of the
blossom of a large flower: so silvery and transparent is the water, and
so gracefully are its glassy petals disposed. Meanwhile, the rays of the
sun, streaming down from above, produce a sort of stationary rainbow:
and, in the heat of the day, as you sit upon the chairs, or saunter
beneath the trees, the effect is both grateful and refreshing. The little
flower garden, in the centre of which this fountain seems to be for ever
playing, is a perfect model of neatness and tasteful disposition: not a
weed dare intrude: and the earth seems always fresh and moist from the
spray of the fountain-- while roses, jonquils, and hyacinths scatter their
delicious fragrance around. For one minute only let us visit the _Caffé
des Mille Colonnes_: so called (as you well know) from the number of
upright mirrors and glasses which reflect the small columns by which
the ceiling is supported. Brilliant and singular as is this effect, it is
almost eclipsed by the appearance of the Mistress of the House; who,
decorated with rich and rare gems, and seated upon a sort of elevated
throne--uniting great comeliness and (as some think) beauty of
person--receives both the homage and (what is doubtless preferable to
her) the francs of numerous customers and admirers. The "wealth of

either Ind" sparkles upon her hand, or glitters upon her attire: and if the
sun of her beauty be somewhat verging towards its declension, it sets
with a glow which reminds her old acquaintance of the splendour of its
noon-day power. It is yet a sharply contested point whether the ice of
this house be preferable to that of Tortoni: a point, too intricate and
momentous for my solution. "Non nostrum est ... tantas componere
lites."
Of the Jardin des Plantes, which I have once visited, but am not likely
to revisit--owing to the extreme heat of the weather, and the distance of
the spot from this place--scarcely too much can be said in
commendation: whether we consider it as a _dépôt_ for live or dead
animals, or as a school of study and instruction for the cultivators of
natural history. The wild animals are kept, in their respective cages, out
of doors, which is equally salutary for themselves and agreeable to their
visitors. I was much