battle between the Sabines and the Romans, produced by the wives of the latter rushing, with their children in their arms, between the approaching warriors. David is deservedly considered as the first living artist in France, and this splendid picture is worthy of his pencil. It is upon an immense scale, the figures, of which there are many, are as large as life. The principal female raising her terrified infant, and the two chief combatants, are inimitable.

The pantheon, or church of St. Genevieve, is a magnificent building from the designs of Monsieur Soufflet, one of the first architects of France: it was intended to be the rival of the St. Paul's of London; but, though a very noble edifice, it must fail of exciting any emotions of jealousy amongst the admirers of that great boast of British architecture; yet every one must allow it to be a magnificent pile, and, when com pleted, is destined to be the principal place of worship, as it is at present the mausoleum of the deceased great men of France. Upon the entablature over the portico is written, in immense characters, " AUX GRANDS HOMMES-LA PATRIE RECONNOISANTE." Parallel with the grand entrance are colossal statues, representing the virtues imputed to a republic. Soon after the completion of the inner dome, out two years since, one of the main supporting pillars was crushed in several places by the pressure, but the defective column has been removed, and, until it can be replaced, its proportion of weight is sustained by a most ingenious and complicated wooden structure. Upon the spot where the altar is to be erected, I saw another goddess of liberty, with her usual appendages, carved in wood, and painted, and raised by the order of Robespierre, for a grand revolutionary fête, which he intended to have given, in this church, upon the very day on which he perished. The interior dome is covered with two larger ones, each of which is supported by separate pillars and pilasters, and the whole is constructed of stone alone: the lower dome is de

corated with the most beautiful carvings in stone. The peristyle, or circular colonnade, round the lower part of the exterior of the dome, is very fine. Under

this immense fabric are spacious vaults, well lighted, supported by Doric pillars, the depositories of the illustrious dead of France. At present there are only two personages whose relics are honoured with this gloomy distinction, Rousseau and Voltaire, who very quietly repose by the side of each other: their re mains are contained in two separate tombs, constructed of wood, and are embellished with various inscriptions.

I passed the Place de Carousel, and saw the ruins of the houses that suffered by the explosion of the infernal machine, which afforded so much conversation in the world at the time, on account of its object being the destruction of the first consul in his way to the national institute of music: an affair for a long time involved in mystery. It is now well known, that Monsieur Fouché, at the head of the police, was acquainted with the conspiracy, of which this machine was to be the instrument, from its first conception, and, by his vigilant agents, was informed of the daily progress made in the construction of it, of the plan of which he had even a copy: the conspirators proceeded with perfect confidence, and, as they thought, with perfeet security. Three days before it was quite completed, and ready for its fell purpose, from some surprise or dread of detection, they changed their place of meeting, and in one night removed the machine from the spot where it had been usually deposited. The penetrating eye of the police lost sight of them. Fouché and his followers exercised their unrivalled talents for pursuit and discovery to no purpose. The baffled minister then waited upon Buonaparte, to whom he had regularly imparted the result of every day's information respecting it, and told him that he could no longer trace the traitorous instrument of his assassination, and requested him, as he knew it

must be completed by this time, not to go to any public places, until he had regained a knowledge of it; to which Bonaparte replied, that fear only made cowards and conspirators brave, and that he had unalterably determined to go with his accustomed equipage to the national concert that very evening; and accordingly at the usual hour the first consul set off undismayed from the Thuilleries, a description of the machine, which was made to resemble a water-cask, being first given to the coachman, servants, and guards: as they proceeded, the advanced guard passed it unobserved, but the coachman discovered it just as the consular carriage was on a parallel with it; instantly the dexterous and faithful charioteer lashed his horses into full speed, and turned the corner of the rue Marcem, and in one moment after the terrible machine exploded, and covered the street with ruins. The thunder of its discharge shook the houses of Paris, and was heard at a considerable distance in the country. The first consul arrived in safety at the hall of music, and, with every appearance of perfect tranquillity, entered his box amidst the acclamations. of the crowded multitude. The range of buildings shattered by the explosion, has long offended the eye of taste, and presented a gloomy and very inconvenient obstruction to the grand entrance of the palace. Buonaparte, with his usual judgment, which converts every event into some good, immediately after this affair, purchased the damaged houses, and the whole of this scene of ruins and rubbish is removing with all possible expedition, to the great improvement of the grand approach to the palace.

Whilst I was strolling along the banks of the Seine, I could not help remarking that it would suffer much by a comparison with the Thames. The Seine is narrow, and very dirty; its waters, which are finely filtrated when drawn from the fountains of Paris, pro◄ duce an aperient effect upon strangers, who are genetally cautioned not to drink much of them at a time.

The tide does not reach further than several miles below Paris; to this cause I can alone attribute, though perhaps the reason is insufficient, that the river is never rendered gay by the passing and repassing of beautiful pleasure-boats, to the delights of which the Parisians seem total strangers. Its shores are sadly disfigured by a number of black, gloomy, and unwieldy sheds, erected upon barges, for the accommodation of the washerwomen, who, by their mode of washing, viz. by rubbing the linen in the river water, and beating it with large flat pieces of wood, resembling battledores, until the dirt, and generally a portion of the linen retire together, make a noise very similar to that of shipwrights caulking a vessel. This is an abominable nuisance, and renders the view up the river, from the centre of the Pont de la Concorde, the most complete mélange of filth and finery, meanness and magnificence, ever beheld. Whilst I am speaking of these valuable, but noisy dames, I must mention, that their services are chiefly confined to strangers, and the humbler class of ParisiThe genteel families of France are annoyed by the unpleasant domestic occurrence of washing, when in town only once, and when in the country only twice, in the course of the year. Their magazines of clothes are of course immense, for the reception and arrangement of which several rooms in their houses are always allotted. It is the intention of the first consul gradually to unkennel this clattering race of females, when it can be done with safety. To force them to the tub, and to put them into the suds too suddenly, might, from their influence amongst the lower classes of citizens, be followed by consequences not very congenial to the repose of the go

ans.

vernment.

During my stay in Paris, I visited the gallery of David. This celebrated artist has amassed an immense fortune, and is permitted, by his great patron and friend, Buonaparte, to occupy the corner wing of

the old palace, from which every other man of genius and science, who was entitled to reside there, has been removed to other places, in order to make room for the reception of the grand national library, which the first consul intends to have deposited there. His apartments are very magnificent, and furnished in that taste, which he has, by the influence of his fame, and his elegance of design, so widely and successfully diffused. Whilst seated in his rooms, I could not help fancying myself as breathing in the most tasteful times of Greece. Tunics and robes were carelessly but gracefully thrown over the antique chairs, surrounded by elegant statues, and ancient libraries, so disposed as to perfect the classical illusion. I found David in his garden, putting in the back ground of a painting, dressed in a dirty robe, and covered with an old shabby hat. His eyes are dark and penetrating, and beam with the lustre of genius. His collection of paintings and statues, and many of his own studies, afforded a perfect banquet, and he was then occupied in drawing a fine portrait of Buonaparte. The presence of David covered the gratification with gloom. Before me, in the bosom of that art, which is said, with her divine associates, to soften the souls of men, I beheld the remorseless judge of his sovereign, the destroyer of his brethren in art, and the enthusiastic admirer and confidential friend of Robespierre. David's political life is too well known. During the late scenes of horror, he was asked by an acquaintance, how many heads had fallen upon the scaffold that day; to which he is said coolly to have replied, "only one hundred and twenty!! The heads of twenty thousand more must fall before the great work of philosophy can be accomplished."

It is related of him, that during the reign of the Mountain, he carried his portfolio to the front of the scaffold, to catch the last emotions of expiring nature, from the victims of his revolutionary rage.

He directed and presided at the splendid funeral