We have the Paris of Catherine de Mèdicis in the Tuileries；the Paris of Henri II in the Htel-de-Ville，both edifices in the grand style；the Place Royale shows us the Paris of Henri IV—brick fronts，stone copings，and slate roofs—tricolour houses；the Val-de-Grace is the Paris of Louis XIII—low and broad in style，with basket-handle arches and something indefinably pot-bellied about its pillars and humpbacked about its domes.We see the Paris of Louis XIV in the Invalides—stately，rich，gilded，cold；the Paris of Louis XV at Saint-Sulpice—scrolls and love-knots and clouds，vermicelli and chicory leaves—all in stone；the Paris of Louis XVI in the Panthèon，a bad copy of Saint Peter's at Rome（the building has settled rather crookedly，which has not tended to improve its lines）；the Paris of the Republic at the School of Medicine—a spurious hash of Greek and Roman，with about as much relation to the Coliseum or the Panthèon as the constitution of the year III has to the laws of Minos—a style known in architecture as'the Messidor'；8 the Paris of Napoleon in the Place Ven e—a sublime idea，a bronze column made of cannons；the Paris of the Restoration at the Bourse—an abnormally white colonnade supporting an abnormally smooth frieze—it is perfectly square and cost twenty million francs.
To each of these characteristic buildings there belongs，in virtue of a similarity of style，of form，and of disposition，a certain number of houses scattered about the various districts easily recognised and assigned to their respective dates by the eye of the connoisseur.To the seeing eye，the spirit of a period and the features of a King are traceable even in the knocker of a door.
The Paris of to-day has，therefore，no typical characteristic physiognomy.It is a collection of samples of several periods，of which the finest have disappeared.The capital is increasing in houses only，and what houses！At this rate，there will be a new Paris every fifty years.The historic significance，too，of its architecture is lessened day by day.The great edifices are becoming fewer and fewer，are being swallowed up before our eyes by the flood of houses.Our fathers had a Paris of stone；our sons will have a Paris of stucco.
As for the modern structures of this new Paris，we would much prefer not to dilate upon them.Not that we fail to give them their due.The Sainte-Geneviève of M.Soufflot is certainly the finest tea-cake that ever was made of stone.The palace of the Légion d'Honneur is also a most distinguished piece of confectionery.The dome of the Corn Market is a jockey-cap set on the top of a high ladder.The towers of Saint-Sulpice are two great clarinets—a shape which is as good as any other—and the grinning zigzag of the telegraph agreeably breaks the monotony of their roofs.Saint-Roch possesses a door that can only be matched in magnificence by that of Saint Thomas Aquinas；also it owns a Calvary in alto-relievo down in a cellar，and a monstrance of gilded wood—real marvels these，one must admit.The lantern tower in the maze at the Botanical Gardens is also vastly ingenious.As regards the Bourse，which is Greek as to its colonnade，Roman as to the round arches of its windows and doors，and Renaissance as to its broad，low，vaulted roof，it is indubitably in purest and most correct style；in proof of which we need only state that it is crowned by an attic story such as was never seen in Athens—a beautiful straight line，gracefully intersected at intervals by chimney pots.And，admitting that it be a rule in architecture that a building should be so adapted to its purpose that that purpose should at once be discernible in the aspect of the edifice，no praise is too high for a structure which might，from its appearance，be indifferently a royal palace，a chamber of deputies，a town hall，a college，a riding-school，an academy，a warehouse，a court of justice，a museum，a barracks，a mausoleum，a temple，or a theatre—and all the time it is an Exchange.Again，a building should be appropriate to the climate.This one is obviously constructed for our cold and rainy skies.It has an almost flat roof，as they obtain in the East，so that in winter，when it snows，that roof has to be swept，and，of course，we all know that roofs are intended to be swept.And as regards the purpose of which we spoke just now，the building fulfils it to admiration：it is a Bourse in France as it would have been a Temple in Greece.It is true that the architect has been at great pains to conceal the face of the clock，which would have spoilt the pure lines of the f de；but in return，we have the colonnade running round the entire building，under which，on high-days and holidays，the imposing procession of stock-brokers and exchange-agents can display itself in all its glory.
These now are undoubtedly very superior buildings.Add to them a number of such handsome，interesting，and varied streets as the Rue de Rivoli，and I do not despair of Paris offering one day to the view，if seen from a balloon，that wealth of outline，that opulence of detail，that diversity of aspect，that indescribable air of grandeur in its simplicity，of the unexpected in its beauty，which characterizes—a draught-board.