re. I fear it will be now impracticable to see the arsenal as it
ought to be seen.

It is now approaching mid-day, and we are walking toward the terrace in
front of the Great Belvidere Palace, built by the immortal Eugene[B] in
the year 1724, as a summer residence. Probably no spot could have been
selected with better judgment for the residence of a Prince--who wished
to enjoy, almost at the same moment, the charms of the country with the
magnificence of a city view, unclouded by the dense fumes which forever
envelop our metropolis. It is in truth a glorious situation. Walking
along its wide and well-cultivated terraces, you obtain the finest view
imaginable of the city of Vienna.

Indeed it may be called a picturesque view. The spire of the cathedral
darts directly upward, as it were, to the very heavens. The ground
before you, and in the distance, is gently undulating; and the
intermediate portion of the suburbs does not present any very offensive
protrusions. More in the distance, the windings of the Danube are seen;
with its various little islands, studded with hamlets and fishing-huts,
lighted up by a sun of unusual radiance. Indeed the sky, above the
whole of this rich and civilized scene, was at the time of our viewing
it, almost of a dazzling hue; so deep and vivid a tint we had never
before beheld. Behind the palace, in the distance, you observe a chain
of mountains which extends into Hungary. As to the building itself, it
is perfectly palatial in its size, form, ornaments, and general effect.

Among the treasures, which it contains, it is now high time to enter and
to look about us. My account is necessarily a mere sketch. Rubens, if
any artist, seems here to "rule and reign without control!" Two large
rooms are filled with his productions; besides several other pictures,
by the same hand, which are placed in different apartments. Here it is
that you see verified the truth of Sir Joshua's remark upon that
wonderful artist: namely, that his genius seems to expand with the size
of his canvas.

His pencil absolutely riots here--in the most luxuriant manner--whether
in the majesty of an altarpiece, in the gaiety of a festive scene, or in
the sobriety of portrait-painting. His Ignatius Loyola and St. Francis
Xavier--of the former class--each seventeen feet high, by nearly
thirteen wide--are stupendous productions in more senses than one. The
latter is, indeed, in my humble judgment, the most marvelous specimen o