The fountains and jets d’eau are entitled to special notice, although in extent and variety they are far exceeded by those of Versailles.  The arrangement of the principal cascade is well contrived, and I had the good fortune to be present at the moment the water commenced flowing, which continued but a short time.  This struck me as a singular piece of mimicry, and compared with those truly-sublime spectacles—­the cascades of Nature—­the boasted works of St. Cloud seemed mere playthings, like the little falls which children contrive in running brooks; or at best resembling hydraulic exhibitions on an extensive scale.  The playing commenced by a jet bursting from a point almost secluded by trees, which appeared on a level with the first story of the palace; the stream then fell into stone basins, and by turns threw itself aloft, or gushed from the mouths of numberless marine animals, and descended by glassy falls into a basin, whence it found its way into several vase-shaped forms, and again descended by magnificent cascades, discharging themselves into a large, circular tank or basin, with two strong jets throwing their limpid streams many feet high.  In the sculptured forms there is some display of classic design; and the effect of many mouths and forms gushing forth almost instantaneously was altogether that of magic art, not unaided by the lines of trees on two sides being clipped or cut into semi-arched forms.  The most powerful of the fountains is, however, a grand jet, characteristically named the Geant, or giant, for the incredible force with which it springs from its basin, and rises 125 feet high, being more than the elevation of Napoleon’s triumphal column, in the Place Vendome, at Paris.  An uninterrupted view of these exhibitions may be enjoyed from the river, which runs parallel with the road adjoining the park.  Crowds flocked from all directions to witness the first gush of the fountains; but their attention soon became directed to a royal party attended by footmen, from the palace, who came to witness the sights of the fair, and appeared especially amused with a family of vaulters and stilt-walkers.  They were received with a slight buzz of curiosity, but without that enthusiasm with which the English are accustomed to recognise, and, not unfrequently, to annoy royalty; for here

  No man cried, God save them.

I now began to make a more minute survey of the preparations for amusement, for the fete was not yet in its equinoctial splendour.  The most prominent of these were plots of the raised bank on one side, and at the termination of the principal walk, which were enclosed with hurdles or frames, a platform being elevated and decorated with festooned curtains, &c. for an orchestra, and the whole hung round with illumination lamps.  Towards evening, but long before dark, these enclosures were blazing with variegated splendour; the bands commenced playing several lively French airs, and the area was