go with them to the capital. I have walked over the same ground where
the one hundred thousand stood on that interesting occasion. I have been
upon the same balcony, and stood by the window from which Maria
Antoinette looked out upon the mob that were seeking her life.

Anxious to see as much of the palace as I could, and having an offer of
the company of my young friend, Henry G. Chapman, to go through the
palace with me, I set out early yesterday morning, and was soon in the
halls that had often been trod by Royal feet. We passed through the
private, as well as the public, apartments, through the secret door by
which Marie Antoinette had escaped from the mob of 1792, and viewed the
room in which her faithful guards were killed, while attempting to save
their Royal mistress. I took my seat in one of the little parlour
carriages that had been used in days of yore for the Royal children;
while my friend, H.G. Chapman, drew me across the room. The superb
apartments are not now in use. Silence is written upon these walls,
although upon them are suspended the portraits of men of whom the world
has heard.

Paintings, representing Napoleon in nearly all his battles, are here
seen; and wherever you see the Emperor, there you will also find Murat,
with his white plume waving above. Callot's painting of the battle of
Marengo, Hue's of the retaking of Genoa, and Bouchat's of the 18th
Brumaire, are of the highest order; while David has transmitted his fame
to posterity, by his splendid painting of the Coronation of Napoleon and
Josephine in Notre Dame. When I looked upon the many beautiful paintings
of the last named artist, that adorn the halls of Versailles, I did not
wonder that his fame should have saved his life, when once condemned and
sentenced to death during the reign of terror. The guillotine was robbed
of its intended victim, but the world gained a great painter. As Boswell