the world;-I mean the Transfiguration of Christ, by Raphael in point of composition, drawing, and colouring, it may fairly be ranked the ne plus ultra of the art. This picture was placed at the head of his coffin when he lay in state at Rome, as a testimony of his rare talents.

Upon the same floor, and adjoining the large gallery, are two other chambers, used for the exhibition of the various works of living artists in painting and architecture; the last of which I thought the first in merit.

Below stairs are the different halls, which contain a superb collection of antique statues, groups, and busts, principally the spoils of Italy. Among them is the Venus of the capitol, the Antinous, the dying gladiator, the Discobolus, the Torso of Michael Angelo, various statues of the muses, also of Greek and Roman philosophers, and other renowned characters of antiquity, with a multitude of busts of different sorts; above all, the Apollo of Belvidere, and the group of Laacoon, brought from Rome and by this time they are in possession of the Venus de' Medici, formerly the pride of Florence. These celebrated and inimitable antiques need no other eulogium than this-that when in their original situations, the greatest men of different periods travelled from the most distant parts of Europe to contemplate their excellences on consecrated ground. And though locality can neither add nor subtract from their intrinsic value, still I am inclined to think, that, in the breasts of the classical part of mankind, the sufferings of the Laacoon must have excited more pity, and the nobleness of the Apollo more admiration, when they formed,

which they did for ages, the venerable ornaments of the Vatican; and that the Venus de' Medici inflamed her lovers more when she displayed her charms as goddess in the tribuna of Florence, and attracted her admirers there from every quarter of the globe, than she can reasonably be expected to do since she has been violated as a spoil, and become a captive in a foreign land.

After the great gallery, the next public building most likely to engross the stranger's attention is the Palais Royal, because it is a place of pastime and public resort. It is surrounded by shops, coffeehouses, and rooms for gaming. This palace forms an extensive quadrangle within, and makes a magnificent appearance in point of architecture; at the same time, some of the proportions of the exterior are far from being good. The façades within the quadrangle consist of a continued open arcade below, with a fluted composite pilaster on a pedestal to each pier, which runs up two stories, and bears an appropriate entablature: over the arches are handsome square-headed windows in recesses, with balustrade balconies: above the entablature is an attic, set back so as to form a kind of gallery; and the elevation finishes with an ornamental balustrade and vases.

Athough this edifice has a rich and sumptuous appearance, it is by far too crowded in its parts to please an eye of true taste. The pilasters are placed so closely together, that the arches and the windows above look as if they were thrust in; and they are also too narrow to be of a pleasing proportion whereas, had the intercolumniation been increased, these evils might have been avoided,

and the building altogether would have had a much finer and bolder effect. The arcade, as well as the garden within the quadrangle embellished with orange-trees and gravel-walks, afford an agreeable promenade for the Parisians.

The national library also forms on the plan a quadrangle, and is an extensive structure, in the French style of architecture. The manuscripts and scarce books have been much increased by the treasures of the conquered cities of Italy; and it may now be truly said to exceed any thing of the sort perhaps in the world. The books are arranged round the outer wall, so that the light is admitted by the windows in the quadrangle; and so extensive is the collection (absurdly said to be 300,000 volumes) that you cannot walk through the library without astonishment. Among the manuscripts are some original letters of Henry IV. of France, and Henry VIII. of England. In a small room where the medals and other curiosities are preserved, I remarked a golden heart, in which was found the heart of Anne de Bretagne, queen of Lewis XII.: also a large silver Roman plate, taken out of the Rhone, called the shield of Scipio; and the fine steel armour of Francis I. This library is open daily, and the meanest person has free access, with the use of pen, ink, and paper.

In a small recess is a group representing Parnassus, with Apollo and the muses: and in different parts are busts of the French literati.

At the end of the library the floor is cut away to admit two prodigious globes, the celestial and terrestrial. They are placed in the ground story

underneath; and, being thirty feet in circumference, they rise somewhat into the second, the lower one not being sufficient to contain them. On the terrestrial globe, the water, land, cities, and mountains, are distinguished with their proper colours, and the objects on the celestial are expressed in a similar manner.

The palace of the Luxemburgh, occupied by the senate, is a ponderous piece of architecture of stone, said to have been built upon the plan of the palace Pitti at Florence. The façade consists of a centre and two projecting wings, three stories in height; the piers between the windows of each story are adorned with double columns, bearing their own separate entablature. The first story has the Tuscan, the second the Doric, and the third the Ionic; and on them appears a high and ugly roof: the columns are encumbered with circular rustics, resembling so many millstones, which are as absurd as they are tasteless. Within this palace is the new hall, for the conservative senate; constructed nearly upon the same plan as the Olympic theatre at Vicenza. It also contains a handsome library: and in a long gallery, lately converted out of other apartments for that purpose, hang the valuable and well-known collection of historical pictures by Rubens; which, by receiving the light from above, display themselves to every advantage. The gardens are laid out in the formal French fashion;-adorned with fountains, temples, statues, and vases, like those of the Tuilleries.

With great truth and justice, the colonnade front of the Louvre, erected in the reign of Lewis XIV. by Perrault, claims the pre-eminence in regard

to chaste design and beauty of composition over every other modern building in France, and was very justly pronounced by Voltaire to be "one of the most august monuments of architecture in the world." At the same time, nothing can be more preposterous than the greater part of the old architecture that prevails in the inner court of the same structure. There are two stones in the colonnade front of the Louvre, said to be 54 feet long, 8 feet broad, and 14 inches each in thickness.

Adjoining to the Louvre appears the Palace of the Tuilleries, which was so named by having been built on a place where they formerly made tiles. This edifice was begun in the year 1564, by Catharine de' Medici, and has been since used as the town residence of the kings of France. It stands on the banks of the Seine, with the garden front facing an extensive place, now called the Elysian-fields (where Lewis XVI. was beheaded at his own request); and exhibits a clumsy and inelegant style of architecture, principally after the designs of De Lorme.

The gardens are disposed, according to the French fashion, in geometrical figures, ornamented with spacious gravel walks, fountains, orange-trees, ancient and modern marble statues, vases, &c. In France, they have not the least conception that a piece of water rolling through their pleasuregrounds in a natural meandering course can be an object of beauty; with them it will not do unless constrained and fashioned by art into the shape of a square, circle, octagon, or other defined form: and, to complete the whole, the water must

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