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to us when it is really far off; an ungracious presence which one can never shake off. If only the French had had the sense, after the close of the 1889 Exhibition, to demolish this bumptuous piece of ironmaster's brag, erected in defiance of the protests of the whole artistic world of Paris, it might have been forgotten by this time-forgotten, but not forgiven.

Indeed, the permanent results on the city of these vast shows, though not all of them as exasperating as the Eiffel Every Tower, are to be considered. demonstration on such a scale as the 1889 Exhibition and the present one must leave a great scar, so to speak, on the face of Paris; and even when this is healed, each one has wiped out forever some part of the history and topography of the city; and as there seems to be a kind of necessity to make every successive show bigger than the previous one, the ultimate consequences are unpleasant to contemplate. Even for the moment, Paris seems to be more turned inside out by the Exhibition than one would wish. The Pont d'Iena is unrecognizable, save for its two fat horses at each end, whose pedestals are no longer terminations to the balustrade, but stand in the middle of the roadway, which has been widened by jutting out a series of steel cantilevers from the stone piers. The highroad to Sèvres and Versailles, which used to run past the end of the bridge, has been sunk into a deep cutting, with long inclines to carry it under the Exhibition; the concrete walls of this cutting, by the way, being duly decorated with stencilled ornament, to bring them into harmony with the environment. The Exhibition is, indeed so mixed up with the city that it is difficult sometimes to be quite sure when you are in it and when you are not. After entering at the Trocadéro end, for instance, I got on a river steamer at the Pont d'Iena, in order to get a view of the buildings

There

from the river, but on being landed
near the Pont de l'Alma found that I
was outside the sacred fence, and had
to deliver up another coupon ticket for
re-admission. And the influence of the
Exhibition extends beyond its bounda-
ries, not always pleasantly.
used, for instance, to be an open-air
café at one side of the Avenue de Neuil-
ly in the Bois de Boulogne, where you
could sit under trees in the warm sum-
mer night and listen to an excellent
string and wind band, and regret that
London climate and customs allowed
of no such way of spending an evening.
But this year the Avenue de Neuilly has
become a bear garden, a kind of Bar-
tholomew Fair; the musical café has
gone, the avenue is festooned with
lamps from tree to tree, lined with
merry-go-rounds, shooting stands and
curiosity-shops, and hideous with noises
and with the dust and tobacco-smoke of
the festive proletariat. If this trans-
formation is permanent, it will hardly
form an agreeable reminiscence of the
Exhibition year, either to Parisians or
visitors.

Fortunately, however, the permanent
structures which the Exhibition of
1900 will leave behind it as a record-
the two art palaces and the new bridge
over the Seine-are of a very different
character from that monstrous iron
tower, which is the most prominent
record of the 1899 Exhibition. In these
we have the hand, not of the advertis-
ing engineer, but of the artist. Before
speaking of them more particularly,
however, it may be as well to take a
general survey of the situation.
present Exhibition, like that of 1889, is
arranged in two main territories: the
larger on the Champ de Mars site, fol-
lowing the axis of the Trocadéro and
the Eiffel Tower, on a line running
southeast, and terminated at its lower
end by the great Gallerie des Machines
erected for the 1889 Exhibition. The
smaller territory is that on the Esplan-

The

nade des Invalides site, running nearly due south from the left bank of the Seine towards the Invalides, and laid out axially with the centre of that celebrated building. In this respect we may notice in passing, the careful attention which the French always pay to the setting out of groups of buildings in reference to a central axial line which governs the whole laying out of the site; a principle as habitually neglected in English cities as it is habitually kept in view in French ones. In London nothing is central with anything else even the Albert Hall and Albert Memorial, built about the same time and in connection with the same idea, are out of line with each otherwhile in Paris almost every great street and great building is laid out on a central axis; one of the causes to which is to be attributed the superior stateliness of Paris as a city. The two territories of the Exhibition, each thus complete and axial in itself, are wide apart at the northern end, where they are connected by the long sweep of the Quai d'Orsay, and converge towards each other at the southern end, though still at a considerable distance, the Avenue de la Motte Picquet connecting them. The main difference in the site of the present as compared with the previous Exhibition is that on both sites the Exhibition this year has crossed the Seine northwards. The Champ de Mars territory extends across the river (including, as already observed, the Pont d'Iena) right up to the Trocadéro, which, in fact, forms one of the main entrances. The Invalides territory extends right up to the Avenue des Champs Elysées, crossing the Seine by a wide new bridge, the Pont Alexandre III, which also is included in the Exhibition grounds, but which remain afterwards as one of the permanent public bridges over the Seine. On the space between the northern end of the bridge and the

Avenue des Champs Elysées are erected the two great permanent art palacesthe Grand Palais, an immense building, to the west of the axial line; the building relatively called the Petit Palais (though even this is a very large and sumptuous edifice) to the east, the two facing each other, of course centrally, across a wide space of garden and drive. These stand partly on the ground formerly occupied by the Palais de l'Industrie, a building one can well spare, since it was quite unworthy of French art and of the position it occupied.

It is in this group of structures that the great glory of the present Exhibition consists. The bridge is one of the most remarkable erections of the kind in modern times. Structurally it is a steel bridge, forming one large arch in very flat lines, the level of the roadway having been kept as low as possible consistently with getting the requisite headway over the river, in order not to interfere in any way with the view of the façade and dome of the Invalides at the southern end of the vista-a quite sufficient reason in France, but one which would never occur to any Government or public body in England. The main design of the bridge is the joint work of two architects, MM. Bernard and Cousin, and two engineers, MM. Résal and Alby; the engineers being responsible for the structure, and the architects for the details of the design. What a contrast to the procedure in London, where the County Council are spending half a million of public money on a bridge in which the engineer is to be allowed to bungle the decorative details as he pleases, and an architect, we are told, cannot be employed because it would hurt the feelings of the engineer! The massive bronze lamp standards on the bridge are designed by one of the most gifted of the younger French sculptors of the day, M. Gauquié, who has shown a

special aptitude for decorative design. The entry to the bridge at each end is flanked by a lofty stone pylon at either side, on the line of the parapet; these are architectural erections decorated with angle columns, the whole of the most refined and careful design, and each forms a pedestal to a rearing winged Pegasus led by a nude "Genius," the whole of these figures being entirely gilt. Whether these erections would have quite the same effect in a more northern atmosphere may be doubted, but in the clear air of Paris, and under the bright sky of early June, the clean and delicate lines of the freshly cut stonework and the sparkle of the gilded sculpture against the intense blue of the sky combined to produce a perfectly beautiful effect; in certain positions the sunlight seemed actually to shine through the thin wings of the horses, though this was most likely an effect of reflected light from another part of the gilt surface. Then at the base of each pedestal, facing outward from the bridge, is a colossal carved emblematical figure, seated, the two facing the Champs Elysées side representing "Mediæval France," by M. Lenoir, and "Modern France," by M. Michel; those on the southern side, "Renaissance France," by M. Coutan, and "Louis Quatorze France,” by M. Marqueste; four of the first French sculptors of the day having thus contributed to the decoration of the new bridge. Finally, the approach to each end of the bridge is flanked by lions led by cupids, carved in stone by M. Gardet, one of the finest animal sculptors in France. That is what goes to make a new bridge in Paris. Is it not enough to make every Englishman who cares about art blush for his country, where, for a similar work, an engineer and a trading stonemason would be thought sufficient?

Now let us look at the two palaces. The Grand Palais, the joint design of

three architects, MM. Thomas, Deglane, and Louvet, is really two buildings in: combination; the larger portion on the plan of an inverted, having its front. parallel with the axis of the bridge; the smaller block, which contains the centennial art exhibition, is placed across the stem at the at a slightly obliqueangle, so as to present a façade parallel with the Avenue d'Antin, towards which it faces. The two are, however, externally combined very cleverly into one design. The main portion of the building, which contains the exhibition of contemporary art (the art of the last ten years), has a double-story range of galleries running round a central court of the same shape as the exterior of the building; the lower range of galleries are, of course, side-lighted, the upper ones top-lighted. The building is on. an immense scale, and the principal façade, facing the central drive, is a noble-looking architectural monument in a freely-treated classic style, the main walls of the wings being set back behind a colonnade, and the upper part of the walls behind the colonnade decorated in the upper portion with a ceramic frieze. The central entrance is flanked by figures representing, on one side, Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Egyptian art,. and on the other side, the arts of painting, sculpture, architecture and engraving. The colonnades and colossal sculptures, all executed in a fine and perfectly white stone, have an imposing effect. The drawback to the general monumental effect of the building is that it is all roofed with glass, which shows conspicuously above the stone sub-structure. This was, perhaps, unavoidable if it was to be adequately lighted as a range of picture galleriesat all events, it was the easiest and readiest way of securing ample light; and, as a matter of architectural truthfulness, it was better to show the glass roof frankly than to endeavor to mask

it behind a false stone screen; still, it cannot be denied that it injures the effect of the building. The Petit Palais opposite, designed by M. Girault, is a finer work of architecture than the large palace; it is somewhat in the same character of architecture externally, but has escaped the deteriorating effect of glass roofing, and is, on the whole, more refined in detail. But the beauty of the building is only fully appreciated after making acquaintance with the interior, which is a most original architectural conception. Going through the principal entrance, at the top of a lofty flight of steps and furnished with finely-designed gilt metal folding gates, we find ourselves in a central vestibule roofed by a dome, and with a great gallery of the same width, but raised several steps above the floor of the vestibule, stretching on either hand the whole length of the building; the pilasters on the walls are of a pink veined marble, the roofs being covered with modelled decoration in plaster, rather too restless in style, but showing that facility and invention in decorative detail which meet us at every turn in the Exhibition. Opening from the back of this front block is a semi-circular open court, laid out as a garden, and surrounded by an open colonnaded walk with marble columns, raised two or three steps above the garden. Outside of this semi-circular colonnade is a double range of galleries on the plan of a semi-hexagon, the sides tangent to the walls of the semi-circular colonnade. Seen from the garden, this colonnade, with the loftier wall of the gallery rising behind it, and crowned with a balustrade and beautifully designed colored and gilt vases, has a charming effect, and strikes one as something quite new in modern architecture. The front of the small palace

2 A "spandrel," in architectural phraseology, is the nearly triangular space left on each side of an arch between the outer curve of the arch

is decorated with some very fine sculpture; a figure over the principal entrance representing Science, by M. Carlés, a panel representing the City of Paris surrounded by the Arts, by M. Injalbert, and bas-relief figures in the spandrels of the doorway arches, by M. Peynot. Altogether, the Petit Palais is a building well worth seeing for its own sake, independently of its contents, which may be passed over here. As far as it is filled, it is an archæological museum, and not directly connected with the main objects of the 1900 Exhibition. After the Exhibition is over, the building will become the property of the Municipality of Paris, and be used as a museum; this is a quid pro quo for the subscription of twenty million francs given by the Municipality towards the cost of the Exhibition.

Coming out again on to the central roadway between the palaces, one should not omit to notice the fine effect of the view looking southward from this point; the two stately palaces, one on each hand; then the pylons of the bridge, with their gilt sculpture; then the variegated outline of the two parallel lines of white buildings of the Exhibition, flanking the lower portion of the Esplanade des Invalides; and in the extreme distance the dome of the Invalides closing the vista. It is not often one sees such a stately piece of effect; and then, as an enthusiastic young American lady observed, "It is so interesting to think that Napoleon rests under that dome."

The large palace is to be the permanent home of the annual Salon, and is certainly the finest which the "Société des Artistes Français" has ever had, though, when one looks at the immense extent of wall space in these ranges of galleries, one rather trembles to think of the possible results of an attempt to

and any horizontal line, such as a cornice, above it. It is a favourite position for sculptural decoration.

fill them all. It is the weak point of the Salon that its exhibition spaces, ever since it went into the Palais de l'Industrie, have always been too large to be filled except by the more than doubtful expedient of admitting a great number of paintings of very mediocre merit; and here we have, as far as the eye can judge, the promise or threat of even larger spaces, except in the central sculpture court, which is not so large as that of either the Palais de l'Industrie or the Galerie des Machines. And in this present Universal Exhibition there is no doubt that the sculpture court is inconveniently and undesirably crowded, especially as a considerable number of the exhibitors seem to have been aiming at quantity rather than quality, and making bids for fame by colossal monuments and equestrian statues. The result is a crowd, in which you cannot isolate any work sufficiently to enjoy it; and as, moreover, the numbers were not even yet fixed to the works (eight weeks after the nominal "opening" of the Exhibition), and one could not find out what they were, I will not attempt any remark on them here, except to note that, according to the catalogue, all the best French sculptors of the day are represented, though not always by their best works; that it is a pity that the late M. Falguière is represented only by two of his portrait statues in costume, "La Rochejaquelain" and "Cardinal Lavigerie," instead of by any of his imag inative nudes; and that an Italian sculptor (I forget his name, and indeed it is better concealed) has perpetrated a life-size bronze group of a set of drunken monks, one of the most detestable pieces of vulgarity I ever saw in sculpture, which has been purchased by the Italian Government for a public museum-a pretty piquant indication of the condition of artistic taste in modern Italy. Most of the leading English sculptors, Mr. Gilbert excepted,

are represented, but their comparatively small and delicate work is completely lost amid the crowd of huge and often violent compositions of the sculptors of some other nationalities-French included, unhappily, for French sculpture is showing alarming signs of forsaking its first love and running after sensationalism.

One piece of American sculpture challenges attention, as it is placed separately in the balcony, outside the American picture galleries—namely, Mr. St. Gaudens's alto-relief called the Shaw monument, representing an officer riding with drawn sword, a group of young infantry soldiers, who troop along with him, forming the background of the subject. This has been illustrated and greatly praised in American magazines (which have a way of blowing very large trumpets for American art), and it unquestionably has the noble and excellent quality of sincerity and earnestness, but it seems also an indication that American sculpture has not yet attained that mystic and indefinable something called style; it strikes one for its moral rather than its artistic quality.

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The French have devoted one-half of the space in the building to French art, the remainder being divided among foreign nations-an apportionment of space which can hardly be complained of; they have had the labor and cost of getting up the show, and it is natural that they should reserve the lion's share in it for their own art. The ground floor galleries need not trouble much; they contain the padding; the important section is in the top-lighted galleries on the upper floor. On the whole, the French show in pictures hardly seems equal to that of 1889, and certainly a good many works of little interest are hung. Still, there are a number of fine pictures to be seen, many of them old acquaintances that one is only too glad to meet again. M.

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