FINE ARTS.
PANORAMA OF VERSAILLES.
MIL BURFORD has opeued a sunny spot in the midst of the 'wintry gloom ; and those who in their passage through Leicester Square step aside and enter the magic circle drawn by his pencil, will find them- selves surrounded with the splendour and gayety of the Palace and Gar- dens of Versailles on the Fete of St. Louis. Versailles, to be seen in its glory—we might almost say to be seen at all—should be viewed on a fete-day, one of those rare occasions here represented ; when the eight grand fountains, as well as the minor jets d'eau, are in full play ; and the stately parterres and terraces of Le Notre—the statues that line the clipped hedges interspersed with orange and pomegranate trees—are thronged with the motley groups that make up a Parisian multitude : the rushing and plashing of the numerous cascades—their silver spray cooling the air, and reflecting in rainbow hues the rays of light—the bum and movement of the crowds, the gay dresses and animated faces—these are essential accompaniments to the delights of Versailles. Without them, the formal avenues, the broad gravel-walks and spacious grass-plots, connected by marble steps and bordered by vases agd statues, look vacant and triste like an empty ball-room : the solitude is chilling ; you wander about in a waste of grandeur, as if roaming over an empty mansion. It is a scene of art, though out of doors; the waving foliage overtopping the verdurous walls of the alleys seems but a few stray locks of Nature's tresses suffered to escape in order to set off the skill of the friscur. The basins look like huge cisterns ; and the plumbers-work that obtrudes in the midst of gods and goddesses, de- stroys by its mechanicalness the effect of the sculpture, wanting the glassy forms of the falling water to veil these contrivances and give completeness to the design. Retirement is out of the question : if you find a nook to repose in, a fac-simile of it stares you in the face ; and threading the alleys is like walking through a problem in geometry. The gardens, however, are in accordance with the Palace, to which they form a verdant fringe or bordering, cut out of the landscape to adorn the building. The scene is animated, and characteristic of the French. The visitor is supposed to stand in the central walk of the terrace called the Par- terre d'Eau; on one side stretches out the grand facade, or Western front of the palace ; on flue other the lengthened perspective of the gardens opens to view the great fountains of Latuna and Apollo, the tavis vert, and the grand canal—a glimpse of the country beyond ter- minating the vista. The sky is bright and almost cloudless; the slant rays of a declining August sun light up the yet summer greenness of the foliage, and are reflected from the red glare of the gravel, which by contrast lends a cooler freshness to the shady spots, and brings out the marbles in all their whiteness. The groups of Parisian promenaders are judiciously distributed, so as to enliven the scene without being too prominent, and heightening by the colours of the costumes the pictorial effect : the figures are admirably painted from sketches made on the spot, and stand out in bold relief; and their perspective is ma- naged with great tact, so as to represent the descent of the garden from the terrace, and the spaciousness of the promenades. Here a fierce dandy of La Jeune France, with long hair and "bearded like the pard," is escorting a Parisian ishlgante ; there a dragoon, NV ithblood-red trousers and facings, struts along with a white-capped soubrette on each arm; children in fantastic dresses are seen flocking round the " limonadier," or vender of sweetmeats; and workmen and peasants, wearing the °blouse," mingle with the gayly-dressed throng, among whom may be
seen, conspicuous by Isis "how-window," the grave Englishman. The white spires of the jets d'eau peeping above the trees in other parts of the gardens, convey an idea of their extent ; and the houses of the town and distant heights seen beyond indicate the character of the sur- rounding country. The palace itself is, as in the reality, the least striking feature: its imusense extent diminishes the apparent height of the building, which thus fails to produce an effect of grandeur commensurate with its snag. nifleence. Its magnitude only becomes evident upon a calculation of its superficial dimensions ; and as we arrive at this knowledge only in detail, the whole is not impressive. The long centre, and the two long
wings, made up of a continuous reiteration of the same parts, without even a portico to vary the monotony of the elevation, and with neither dome nor tower to break the line of the roof, are any thing but im- posing: seen at a distance necessary to embrace the whole length of the facade, the edifice looks low ; and the multiplicity of windows de-
stroys the beauty of the architectural details. The whole scheme, in
effect, is on a scale so vast, that it defeats the intention : as an effort of aggrandizement, it is a signal failure—a huge " too much." Versailles is the " folly " of Louts lc Grand ; for though he finished it by draining the wealth of the country, it is too big to be used; and the very great- ness of the palace makes the court seem little that cannot fill it. It is
said to have accommodated at one time 20,000 persons, in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth ; but the experiment was too costly to be repeated. So enormous was the outlay for its erection, that even the pampered prodi- gal who built it feared to let the sum he known, and ordered the accounts to
be burnt; so that the estimate of forty millions sterling is only conjectural. Louts Futures: has wisely converted it into a museum of paintings and sculpture commemorating the events of French history, reserving only a suite of state apartments for his own use. The sumptuous theatre cannot he lighted up without an expenditure so large that it is scarcely ever used : the great fountains, teo utute, such eeluges of water, that they can only be made to flow altogether twice a year- end then but fbr half an hour at a time. Nor is the splendour of "cc pompeux Versailles," as old Dmama: properly terms it, enhanced by the assdeiations connected with the place it was fitting and natural that this monument of the extravagance and luxury of a profligate king should be the scene of those terrible outbreaks of retributive vengeance, when the people became as mad as their Grand Monarque.
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