It would be but a sort of guide-book review to enumerate the different halls and their wonders, such as one that is devoted entirely to antique terra cottas, another to jewelry and ornaments of the mediæval and renaissance period, another to specimens of Venetian glass ware, of exquisite designs and workmanship, another to bronzes, &c. The Museum of Sovereigns was interesting in historical relics; for it was something, remember, to have looked upon the sceptre, sword, and spars of Charlemagne, the arm-chair of King Dagobert, the alcove in the room where Henry IV. ("King Henry of Navarre") used to sleep; Marie Antoinette's shoe, her cabinet and casket; Henry II.'s armor, and the very helmet through which the lance of Montgomeri went that killed him in the tournament in 1559; Charles IX.'s helmet and shield, the coronation robes of Charles X., and a host of other relics that have figured in French history.
One room is devoted to relics of Napoleon I., and is called the Hall of the Emperor. Here you may look upon the very uniform that he wore on the bloody field of Marengo, a locket containing his hair, the flag of the Old Guard, that he kissed when he bade adieu at Fontainebleau, the veritable gray overcoat which he wore, and the historical cocked hat which distinguished him, the cockade worn when he landed from Elba, the great coronation robes worn when he was crowned emperor, his sword, riding whip, and saddle, the pocket-handkerchief used by him on his death-bed, articles of clothing, &c. The cases containing these articles were thronged, and the curious French crowd looked upon them with a sort of veneration, and occasional exclamations of wonderment or sympathy, as some descriptive inscription was read and explained to an unlettered visitor by his more fortunate companion.
But suffice it to say that the Louvre, with its superb collections, and its almost endless "Salles de —" everything, is overwhelming in the impression it gives as a wealth of art. It is impossible to convey a correct idea of it to the lover of art, or even the longing lover of travel who has Europe in prospect. In the words of the modern advertisers, it must be seen to be appreciated, and will require a great many visits to see enough of it to properly appreciate it.
Right opposite the Louvre, across a square, is the Palais Royal, attractive to all Americans and English from the restaurants, and jewelry, and bijouterie shops, which are on the ground floor, and form the continuous arcade or four sides of the square of the garden which they enclose. This garden is about a thousand feet long and four hundred wide, with trees, flowers, and fountain, and a band plays in the afternoon to the entertainment of the crowd of loungers who have dined at the Trois Frères, Vefour, or Rotonde, lounge in chairs, and sip café noir, or absinthe, if Frenchmen, or smoke cigars and drink wine, if Americans. The restaurants here and in the vicinity are excellent; but one wants a thorough experience, or an expert to teach him how to dine at a French restaurant; otherwise he may pay twice as much as he need to have done, and then not get what he desired. Fresh arrivals, English and Americans, are rich game for the restaurants. They know not all the dodges by which the Frenchman gets four or five excellent courses for almost half what it costs the uninitiated, such as ordering a four-franc dinner, with a privilege of ordering so many dishes of meat, so many of vegetables, or one of meat for two of the latter, or the ordering of one "portion" for two persons, &c. And I do not know as my countrymen would always practise them if they did; for being accustomed at home to order more than they want at a restaurant, and to make the restaurant-keeper a free gift of what they do not use, they are rather apt, in Paris, to "darn the expense," and order what suits their palates, without investigating the cost till they call for the garçon with "l'addition."
The jewelry shops in the arcade around the Palais Royal Garden are of two kinds—those for the sale of real jewelry and rich fancy goods, and those selling the imitation. These latter are compelled by law to keep a sign conspicuously displayed, announcing the fact that their wares are imitation, and any one found selling imitation for real is, I understand, severely punished. The imitation jewelry stores are very attractive, and it is really quite remarkable to what perfection the art is carried. Imitation of diamonds, made from polished rock-crystal, which will retain their brilliancy for some months, mock coral, painted sets, imitation gold bracelets, chains, necklaces, sleeve-buttons, and earrings, of every conceivable design, very prettily made.
The designs of this cheap jewelry are fully equal to that of the more costly kind, and it is retailed here in large quantities at a far more reasonable price, in proportion to its cost, than is the Attleboro' jewelry in our own country. The arcade used to be thronged with Americans, who purchased generally from a handful to a half peck each of the attractive and pretty articles which are so liberally displayed here.
The French shopkeepers are quick to detect a stranger or foreigner, and very many of them regulate their prices accordingly; so that one soon ascertains that it is not labor in vain to urge a reduction in price, even in establishments where huge placards of "Prix Fixé" inform you that they have a fixed price for their goods, which may mean, however, that it is "fixed" according to the customer and his anxiety to purchase. I myself had an experience in the purchase of a pair of ornaments. Inquiring the price, I was informed, "Eight francs."
"Ah, indeed! That is more than I care to pay."
"For what price does monsieur expect to obtain such beautiful articles?"
"Six francs."