LETTER VIL.

Paris.

MY DEAR

WE began our survey of the public edifices of Paris, as you may well suppose, with the Louvre. No description can do ample justice to this Palace of the Arts. There they seem to reign in all their glory, in pomp and magnificence, of which their admirers may well be proud. The edifice itself is the most immense pile of building in Paris, where every thing is on a grand scale, and one part of it, when completed, will rival, in magnificence and beauty, the finest specimens of modern architecture in the world. I allude to the Court of the Louvre, in which all the graces of architecture, simplicity, symmetry, and elegance, seem to be combined.

The early history of the Louvre is involved in great obscurity. The name of its founder, and the period of its erection, are alike unknown. Its original design embraced but a portion of the present edifice, and for a long while it was separated from the Thuileries, at a considerable distance, by the walls of the city. It was enlarged and beautified, however, by the taste and munificence of the kings of France, who from Charles IX, to Henry IV. made it their principal residence. From the lastmentioned monarch, whose assassinated body was

dragged bleeding through its apartments, and there treated with indignity and neglect, it became the seat of several academies and scientific bodies. At length the proud and magnificent Louis XIV. resolved to complete the palace, by finishing the court, of which a part only was erected, and the grand gallery along the banks of the Seine, which was begun by Henry IV. for the purpose of connecting the Louvre with the Thuileries. For this purpose, his Minister, Colbert, sent for the famous architect Bernin from Rome. But, though a man of unquestionable genius, and justly celebrated for the many beautiful buildings he had designed, all his plans were finally rejected: while the honour of completing this great national edifice was reserved for Claude Perrault, who, though bred as a physician, excelled as an architect, and has immortalized his name by this lasting memorial of his skill. "The facade of the Louvre, which was designed by him," says Voltaire, "is one of the most august monuments of architecture in the world. We sometimes go a great way in search of what we have at home. There is not one of the palaces at Rome whose entrance is comparable to this of the Louvre; for which we are obliged to Perrault, whom Boileau has attempted to turn into ridicule." The gallery is nearly a quarter of a mile in length, and, for the grandeur of its design-the immensity of its extent-the beauty of its architecture-and the richness of its contents, is unparalleled by any edifice in modern Europe. This gallery, the court above described, and the palace of the Thuileries, already form three

sides of an immense parallelogram, which Buonaparte had intended to complete, by carrying out a line of building uniform with the gallery from the opposite extremity of the Thuileries to the other side of the court of the Louvre. The work, indeed, is considerably advanced, and many of the houses formerly occupying the intermediate space are taken down. The area thus laid open is called the Carousal. It was at the termination of one of the streets leading into the Carousal, that the attempt was once made upon Napoleon's life, by setting fire to some barrels of gunpowder, placed there for the purpose, as his carriage passed along. An iron railing runs across the Carousal, to form the courtyard of the Thuileries, and in the centre, before the principal pavilion of the Palace, is the triumphal arch, on which he placed the four bronze horses, so universally admired, taken originally from Corinth to Constantinople-thence to Venice, where, for many centuries, they adorned the place of St. Mark, and thence transferred to Paris, to swell the spoils of the Corsican conqueror.

Part of the ground floor of the Louvre is devoted to the specimens of ancient sculpture, of which there is an immense collection-many of them most exquisite, and some of colossal size. There is something awfully sublime, in the impression produced upon a contemplative mind, passing from hall to hall, and gallery to gallery, filled with these noblest efforts of the human genius, wrested from the oblivion of long departed years. As you enter every apartment, a new era in the history of the world seems to dawn

upon you-and you find yourself surrounded with the most illustrious beings, by whose genius and whose actions it was distinguished and adorned. Centuries there dwindle into hours and minutes-you pass from age to age as you move from room to room, and, in the lounge of a morning, you seem to have communed with the greatest characters that have appeared upon the busy theatre of the ancient world. Instead of days-months and years might be devoted to the examination of these most interesting objects; and, after all, the eye of the connoisseur, and the mind of the christian philosopher, would discover new beauties, and suggest fresh trains of thought.

The number of apartments devoted to sculpture is in all fifteen, including the Vestibule and Corridor. Their names are chiefly derived from the nature of the subjects they contain. The halls are extremely spacious, and the finishing of the interior most appropriate. The arrangement of the statues and sculptures, and the distribution of the light, have been objected to as injudicious-but the objection did not occur to me when upon the spot. Every thing seemed well to accord with the character of the exhibition and to heighten its effect. The number of articles is at present three hundred and fifty-five, and ample information respecting them is contained in the catalogue, composed by the Chevalier Visconti, Member of the Institute and Keeper of the Statues, which is sold for two francs, at the doors.

Ascending from the sculptures by a most magnificent, and what might almost be denominated a colossal staircase, you enter the rooms devoted to the

works of modern artists. This collection is extremely fine and very extensive. Our Somerset House is not to be compared with these anti-chambers of the Louvre. But when you enter a gallery nearly a quarter of a mile in length, hung on either side with the finest works of all the celebrated masters that have ever flourished, you can scarcely conceive the scene a reality. It is like some splendid effort of enchantment-the mind is overwhelmed and bewildered by such sublime combinations of art—the eye is lost in the vast and original perspective—and it is long ere you can recover from the impression of so much grandeur to fix your attention on any individual portion of the stupendous whole. As you advance, the genius of every age and every nation of modern Europe appears to instruct, entertain, and delight you you cease to regret the loss of men who were the boast of their country, and the glory of their times, for here they survive, immortal in their workswhile, by their magic power, the events of remotest ages and their illustrious dead, rise to meet your enraptured gaze, and look intently on you from the canvass they have made to live.

The gallery is divided into nine compartmentsthe first three comprise the works of the French school-the second three the German, Flemish, and Dutch-and the last three the different schools of Italy. The number of pictures in the gallery is eleven hundred and one. They are many of them of immense dimensions, and, for the most part, in a high state of preservation.

Imposing, however, as these wonderful collections