solved in grief, as portrayed by the hand of the great master. Never before did I feel the real power of the pencil, never had I, till now, acknowledged in my soul the mighty intellect of the man, who was the fons et origo of wonderful imaginations, like some of these.

But my object is description; and first of the historical pictures, which are principally representations of the great battles, in which France has acquired unfading renown, and which illustrate her prowess from the earliest period. Passing by the old paintings, which treat of events in the earlier periods of the national annals-the times of Charlemagne, the Crusades, of the Louises XIV., XV., XVI.,-we come to an epoch, more interesting at present to most persons, as the events have occurred in the presence, as it were, of many now alive, and are fresh in the minds of all; the time of the great Napoleon. Here are vivid pictures of the principal battles where he triumphed. Wagram, Austerlitz, Marengo, and Moscow, are exhibited with a power and faithfulness, which, ́while they chill the blood at the sight of so much suffering and carnage, exalt the consummate general who achieved them, and stands out the most conspicuous object in the groups. The effect of these paintings is wonderful. In the great city, almost everything is stamped with his genius; his comprehensive intellect, surveying all things with a glance, is there seen to penetrate into the depths of futurity. The voice of that city is full of the praise of the soldier and the sage. The grey-haired veteran limps about on crutches, with both arms gone, yet, having his hat attached to an iron hook on a wooden arm, waves it about his head, and with feeble shouts hails the memory of the departed hero. Full of these emotions, I enter these halls, and am still surrounded by the same master spirit. I contemplate those fields of his and the nation's glory, fight over again those battles, already engraven on my soul by the pen of the historic muse; and, unconsciously to myself, a feeling of hatred creeps gradually over my heart toward that nation, who, profiting by an accident, brutally triumphed over the greatest man that ever lived, and insulted and enslaved the man whom they still feared, but could not humble nor subdue. I can-I do feel deeply for the French; my heart goes with them, and I can sym

pathise with that party who are disgusted with the peaceful aims of the present ruler, and desire once more to stand in the imminent deadly breach, again to strike for France, to fight once more, though but with the memory of Napoleon for their leader. I defy the greatest advocate of peace that lives to look upon these things calmly; to view with cool composure the brown coat, the cocked hat, the white horse, the calm features of the man of destiny, who subdued all—even himself and his own feelings -for ambition-for glory-for France. Had I lived in those tempestuous times, my heart tells me how easily I could have shouldered the musket, and drawn the trigger, under the auspices of that glorious commander. Were I now engaged in actually doing what has now an existence only in the fancy, my heart could not beat more tumultuously than it does at this moment, while recalling what I have seen, and recounting an oft-repeated tale. If this is human nature, how long will it be before the epoch shall arrive, when our swords shall be beat into permanent ploughshares, and our spears into lasting pruninghooks, and men shall learn war no more?

These pictures are not to be enumerated by fives and tens, but by fifties and hundreds; many are of the size of life, where each face is a portrait, and each action represented, a real event. In some, every eye is turned upon the general; in others, the poor sufferer lies mortally wounded near him; and, as the last life drop is oozing from his veins, with his latest strength and dying breath he hails the presence of his general, king, EMPEROR. The return from Elba, the parting from the troops at Fontainbleau, the presentation of the cross of the Legion of Honour to a Russian enemy, distinguished as the bravest in the army, and many other scenes of his eventful life, have employed the pencils of the greatest artists of France, how well I have attempted to express, not by critical analysis, but by a simple account of their influence over an unprejudiced beholder.

To avoid the prolixity of my last two communications, I will defer what I have further to say of these pictures to the next letter.

XXIX.

Pictures, Coins and Medals in the Palace at Versailles. Chapel. Louis XIV. Opera Room. Grand Gallery of Glass. Fountains. Parterre D'eau. Ancient Orange Tree. Bassin de Neptune. Fountain of Latona. Chariot of the Sun. Bassin d' Encelade. Bosquet des Bassins d'Apol lon. Bassin des Enfans. America and her Artists.

LEAVING the reign of Napoleon, we come to that of Louis XVIII. One or two pictures represent his flight from the Tuilleries, and serve only to exhibit his portrait and his fat dump figure. Charles X. succeeds. Few incidents occurred in his short sway, though much too long for the good of his country. Pictures of his reviewing the troops in the Champ de Mars are the principal, and possess but little interest. In addition to his own portrait, that of Louis Philippe, as Lieutenant General, appears in them. Next follow the numerous paintings commemorating most of the political occurrences in the chequered career of the present (late) sovereign. We see him, the favourite of the people, leaving his residence in the Palais Royal on horseback to go to the Hotel de Ville; while the honours of the three days of 1830 are showered along his path. The excited populace, with arms in their hands, surround him, but not with hostile intent; for hats are waved, and the very walls quiver with their cheers. Again the deputies by delegation announce to him the honour the country had conferred upon him. His family are around him, and participate in the thrilling event. The portraits of Lafayette, Soult, and many others, are striking. A similar scene is presented by a deputation from the Chamber of Peers. In another he refuses the crown of Belgium offered to his son. The number of such representations is very great. Few preceding kings have had so many incidents in their reigns illustrated by the pencil. It is exceedingly interesting to look upon the portraits of all the kings from Pharamond to the present day, the Grand Admirals-among whom those of the discoverers, the unfortunate La Perouse and

others, are particularly deserving of attention-the Constables, Marshals, and great Warriors and distinguished men of France. Beside these, there are coins and medals, which illustrate the different ages. Many of these are marked with much rudeness of execution, and exhibit such distortion of faces, that one cannot entertain a very favourable opinion of the vaunted beauty of the originals. They are interesting too for the variety of styles displayed in their costume. One, celebrating the court of Some queen and the company dancing, arrayed in hoops and high heeled shoes, was especially ludicrous.

The busts and statues are very numerous: some in plaster, but very many in marble; among the most observable of which are Richelieu, Mazarin, the brave Gaston de Foix and Bayard, the ever-venerated Fenelon, Blanche of Navarre, and the beautiful statue of one of the most remarkable heroines, that we have any knowledge of, the famous Joan d'Arc-the work of the Princess Marie, deceased daughter of Louis Philippe. In giving some account of the chapel of St. Ferdinand, in a former letter, I mentioned a beautiful angel, also the work of the same talented Duchess of Wirtemberg. To this succeeds the Hall, where are some very large pictures, representing still later events than any yet mentioned, in which figure the different sons of the king. The siege and capture of Constantine shows the Duc d'Orleans and a younger brother; while, near it, is a sea-fight to the glory of. Prince de Joinville. These paintings are all by Horace Vernet, the great painter of the present day, and are gems of art. The sea-scene is exceedingly fine. The light shines through the sail, and the splinters in the ship's side, which a cannon-ball had struck, are nature itself. A large picture now in the exhibition of the works of modern artists in the Louvre, which, I believe, I have heretofore alluded to, will shortly be placed here. It is saying much to affirm, that it is worthy of the immense space, which it will occupy. Many other works of this great master are in various galleries of this palace.

An interesting part of the building is the Chapel, which has lately been restored to all the splendour for which it was remarkable in the age of Louis XIV. Whatever else this overrated monarch did, or omitted, and none comprehend his quantum of merit more accurately than many

of his countrymen-he resembled many a solemn American in a punctilious attendance at church. He went daily to mass, but not content with securing his own salvation, he required his courtiers to bear him company. Quam prope ad pietatem sine pietate. On this portion of the palace extraordinary taste and grandeur are lavished. The pavement is of the richest marbles, wrought into Mosaic, and the walls and ceiling, supported by a superb architrave and cornice above lofty Corinthian columns, are magnificently painted by the distinguished A. Coypel, Lafosse and Jouvenet. Statues, basso-relievos and pictures are not wanting to complete the garniture of this exquisite apartment.

The Opera Room is secluded from the public view, but on presentation of the talismanic ticket,

It opens wide

Its ever-pleasant gates, harmonious sound,

On golden hinges turning,"

and the beauty and lustre, which then break in upon you, well repay the trouble requisite to obtain it. The ornaments are crimson and gold, accompanied with a profusion of mirrors and chandeliers. The first grand representation here was given in honour of the marriage of Louis XVI., and the last on the inauguration of the Historical Museum, the 17th of May, 1837. On the first of these occasions, it was illuminated with ten thousand wax candles. Now gas is introduced. The expenses of a Grand Opera, given at this place, are not less than four thousand pounds.

Among the noble apartments which are decorated with regal splendour, is the king's, with its marbles, rich gilding, and painted ceilings; the queen's, less richly, but not less agreeably embellished with white and gold; but the Grand Gallery of Glass excels them all, and is one of the most magnificent rooms in the universe. It is two hundred and forty-two feet in length, thirty-five feet wide, and forty-three feet high. As its name implies, it possesses numerous mirrors, one entire side being wholly filled by them, set in arcades, which reflect the light let in through seventeen immense windows opposite. Between the arcades and the windows are sixty composite