MISCELLANIES. 
they were but few; I found some 
artists pacing the Gallery of the 
Paintings; they had an air of dis- 
traction, and were muttering 
curses “not loud, but deep.” 
* Que letonnerre du ciel!—Oh! 
¢’en est trop !’—cen est trop! 
and other exclamationsinthe same 
style. A chill sensation came a- 
cross my heart when I descended to 
the Halls of the Sculpture, and saw 
the vacant pedestal on which had 
stood “‘the statue that enchants 
the world.” I gazed on the pe- 
destal ; one of the old liveried at- 
tendants of the hall, interpreting 
my looks, said to me, in a sor- 
rowful tone, “ Ah! Madam, she 
is gone, I shall never see her 
again!” “Gone!” said I. 
‘¢ Yes, madam, she set out this 
very morning at three o’clock, et 
sous bonne escorte.” The old man 
seemed to mourn over Venus as 
if she had been his daughter. 
The adjoining hall presented a 
few days after a most melancholy 
spectacle. There lay the Apollo 
on the floor, in his coffin. The 
workmen were busied in prepar- 
ing him for his journey, by wedg- 
ing him in his shell: and an artist 
was tracing his celestial features, 
when the trowel with its white 
paste, passed across his divine 
visage. His arm was still ma- 
jestically stretched out. The 
rench artists who were present 
wept over it—they pressed his 
hand to their lips, and bade him 
a last adieu! The scene was 
now closed on that perfect image 
worthy of almost divine honours. 
—He was going to add a new 
glory to Rome, and draw new 
ilgrims to his shrine—but to 
aris he was Jost for ever, and 
she might well deplore her cala- 
Vou. LVI. 
593 
mity she had indeed seized him 
as her captive, but she had gazed 
on him with unwearied admira- 
tion; she had hailed him as the 
most splendid trophy of victory ; 
and she would have purchased his 
stay with her treasures, even with 
her blood, had not resistance been 
unavailing. 
_In the package of these divi- 
nities much apprehension was 
felt of their sustaining some ine 
jury. The necessary aid and tools 
were wanting. No rewards, no 
menaces, however, could prevati 
on the French crocheteurs, port- 
ers, and Jabourers, plying in the 
streets for employment, to lend 
their aid. The French, of the 
lowest class, were too indignant 
and mutinous to be the abettors 
of such spoliation. The ladders 
of the master of an exhibition of 
singes savans, learned monkeys, 
in the neighbourhood of the 
Louvre, were at length put in re- 
quisition to unhang the pictures. 
The Pythian divinity of Olympus 
lay in the streets all night, and 
might have suffered from any ac- 
cidental tumult; and the Venus 
de Medicis was fated, like an 
abandoned female, to take up her 
abode for some hours in a coms 
mon guard-house. 
In taking down the Transfigu- 
ration, this invaluable picture, 
the most perfect that exists, was 
suffered to fall to the ground. A 
general shudder from the artists 
around marked this disaster. 
The painting is on wood, and so 
worm-eaten, that in some parts 
it is not an eighth of an inch 
thick. The dust from the worm- 
holes covered the fluor round the 
picture, and excited the most 
terrible apprehensions. It re- 
2Q 
