LETTER VI. Paris. MY DEAR You will not expect from me any thing like a close and accurate description of the various objects which attract the notice of strangers in Paris. They are far too rapidly surveyed, and blended too much together, for that minuteness of observation or distinctness of impression which such a task would require. Where every object is vast, and includes within itself a variety of individuals, each attracting in its kind, and presenting its own peculiar claims upon your attention and regard, you are rather confused than delighted with the rapid survey which a visitor obtains; and the review of the day, when you sit down calmly to retrace its scenes, is more pregnant, perhaps, with vexation than with pleasure. So much has been omitted, which you wish you had observed-so many enquiries have been forgotton, or did not occur at the moment, which you might have made-the effect of each object has been so much weakened by the rapidity with which it succeeded its predecessor-and the whole impression on the mind is so mingled and confused-that all you have heard, and seen, and felt, has scarcely the air of reality, but seems more like the rapid incidents of a vivid and recent dream. You will not, therefore, form too high an expectation of the length or minuteness of the descriptions I shall give you during my stay in Paris. They must be but sketches. The filling of them up by conversation, or from books, will be a pleasant employment for hours of future leisure. In the mean time I shall be happy if, from so rude an outline, you can form any thing like a correct conception of the original. We are comfortably settled in our Hotel, (Hotel Mirabeau), which we understand is one of the best in Paris, and which promises to justify the good character it has obtained. It is in the Rue de la Paix-perhaps the broadest, cleanest, and most elegant street in the city. Some, it may be, will except the Rue Royale, which runs parallel with it, and connects the termination of the Boulevard Madeleine with the Place Louis Quinze. The Rue de la Paix connects the Boulevard Capucines with the Place Vendome, and is continued on the opposite side of the Place Vendome by the Rue de Castiglione, a street of equal breadth, to the gardens of the Thuileries. We are, therefore, in the centre. of every thing, and the Thuileries-the Louvre— the Palais Royal-the Boulevards- the Champs Elisees the Bridges-the Institute, and the University, are all within a few minutes walk. The Rue de la Paix was called, in Buonaparte's time, the Rue de Napoleon-and, in the centre of the Place Vendome, is the famous triumphal pillar, which he caused to be erected to commemorate the successes of his arms in Germany. It is in imitation of the pillar of Trajan at Rome. It is surrounded with bas-reliefs representing his various victories, and composed of the cannon taken from the vanquished. The figures are three feet high, in groups of as many feet in length, and pursue a spiral direction round the pillar from the base to the entablature. It is said there are 2000 figures on the column. They depict, in chronological order, the principal actions of the campaign of 1805, from the departure of the troops from Bologne to the battle of Austerlitz. A band is raised from the pillar separating each range of bas-reliefs, and bearing on it the record of the action each cluster represents On the summit is a gallery, which is approached by a staircase within, and the whole was surmounted by the statue of their, then victorious, leader. This offensive object has, however, been removed by the present possessor of the throne; and the pillar itself would have shared a similar fate, had not its extraordinary strength baffled every effort to displace it. The pillar is 133 feet high, and 12 in diameter, which is the exact measurement of its model. The pillar is the combined production of M. M. Lepere and Gondouin, architects-Denon, the sculptor, and Bergeret, who designed the basreliefs. The whole expence of its erection was 1,500,000 francs. It is a truly magnificent object, and stands, in spite of themselves, I had almost said, an imperishable monument to the French nation, of the greatness from which they have fallen. At pre→ sent the white flag waves upon its summit. Your's, &c. LETTER VII. Paris. MY DEAR WE began our survey of the public edifices of Paris, as you may well suppose, with the Louvre. No descriptiou 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 |