e, who was as thin as a hurdle, and a mere
bag of bones, is here represented as an almost _naked_ figure, sitting: a
slight mantle over his left arm being the only piece of drapery which the
statue exhibits. The poet is slightly inclining his head to the left,
holding a pen in his right hand. The countenance has neither the fire,
force, nor truth, which Denon's terra-cotta head of the poet seems to
display. The extremities are meagre and offensive. In short, the whole, as
it appears to me, has an air approaching the burlesque. Opposite to this
statue are the colossal busts of LA-GRANGE and MALESHERBES; while those of
PEIRESC and FRANKLIN are nearly of the size of nature. They are all in
white marble. That of Peiresc has considerable expression.

This may be called a collection of _Books of Business_; in other words, of
books of almost every day's reference--which every one may consult. It is
particularly strong in _Antiquities_ and _History_: and for the latter, it
is chiefly indebted to Dom Brial--the living father of French
history[107]--that excellent and able man (who is also one of the
Secretaries of the Institute) having recommended full two-thirds of the
_long sets_ (as they are called) which relate to ancient history. The
written catalogue is contained in fourteen folio volumes, interleaved;
there being generally only four articles written in a page, and those four
always upon the recto of each leaf. This is a good plan: for you may insert
your acquisitions, with the greatest convenience, for a full dozen years to
come. No _printed_ catalogue of either of these libraries, or of those of
the Arsenal and Ste. Genevieve, exists: which I consider to be a
_stain_--much more frightful than that which marks the copy of the
"_Servius in Virgilium_," just before described!

It remains now to make mention of a _third_ Collection of Books--which may
be considered in the light both of a public and a private Library. I mean,
the Collection appropriated more particularly for the _King's private
use_,[108] and which is deposited beneath the long gallery of the Louvre.
Its local is as charming as it is peculiar. You walk by the banks of the
Seine, in a line with the south side of the Louvre, and gain admittance
beneath an archway, which is defended by an iron grating. An attendant, in
the royal livery, opens the door of the library--just after you have
ascended above the entresol. You enquire "whether Monsieur BARBIER, the
chie