neration for the arts, has had them removed into the
grand national collection, and has supplied their places by these
beautiful copies, amongst which I particularly distinguished those of
Hippomanes, and Atalanta, for the beauty of their proportions, and the
exquisite elucidation of their story. Here are also some fine basins of
water, in the middle of which are jets d'eau. The gravel walks of the
gardens are watered every morning in hot weather, and centinels are
stationed at every avenue, to preserve order: no person is admitted who
is the carrier of a parcel, however small. Here are groups of people to
be seen, every morning, reading the prints of the day, in the refreshing
coolness of the shade. For the use of a chair in the gardens, of which
there are some hundreds, the proprietor is thankful for the smallest
coin of the republic. At the bottom of the steps, leading to the
terrace, in front of the palace, are some beautiful vases, of an immense
size, which are raised about twelve feet from the ground: in one of
them, which was pointed out to me, an unpopular and persecuted Parisian
saved nearly all his property, during the revolution. A short time
before the massacre of the 10th of August, 1792, when the domiciliary
visits became frequent and keen, this man, during a dark night, stole,
unobserved by the guards, into the garden, with a bag under his arm,
containing almost all his treasure; he made his way to the vase, which,
from the palace, is on the right hand, next to the Feuillans, and, after
some difficulty, committed the whole to the capacious bosom of the
faithful depositary: this done, he retreated in safety; and when the
time of terrour was passed, fearful that he should not be able to raise
his bag from the deep bottom of the urn without a discovery, which might
have rendered the circumstance suspicious, and perhaps hazardous to him,
he presented himself before the minister of the police, verified the
narrative of the facts, and was placed in the quiet possession of his
property, which in this manner had remained undisturbed during all that
frightful period. From the gardens I went to the exhibition of David's
celebrated painting of the suspension of the 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 wo