Thence our guide wished to take us to the national manufactory of fire arms, which is carried on with great activity in this town; but having seen many acknowledgedly superior works of the same kind in England, we declined visiting it, and proceeded at once to the palace. This superb building has not suffered at all during the revolution; though, from being neglected and uninhabited, it has contracted a kind of gloom, which forcibly recals the misfortunes of its last possessors, and the uncertainty of human grandeur. The magnificent furniture, which the apartments once contained, has been removed; but the walls are not without ornament, for the palace having been made (probably with the view of preserving it from popular violence) a _musée central_, or _dépôt_ of the works of art, now possesses several valuable pictures, and a few excellent statues. Among the former, I remarked some good _Claude Loraines_, and two beautiful portraits by _Vincent_. The subject of one was Henry IV of France; and the other, that of the celebrated president, Molé. The latter is painted in his parliamentary robes, heroically exposing his breast to the violence of the mob, and doing his duty, unmoved by the poniards raised against him. You seem to hear him exclaim, as history records he did, “La distance est grande de la main d’un assassin au cœur d’un honnête homme[64].” We walked through the vast suite of rooms, which, once the seat of gayety, splendour, luxury, and royal magnificence, are now the abode of solitude, and the monument of fallen grandeur. It is unnecessary to state the many reflections which this spot created. We failed not to visit the apartment which the unfortunate Lewis XVI occupied on the 6th of october, and in which _Marie Antoinette_ took refuge. We were also shown the balcony window (now stopped up), where that virtuous and ill fated princess, _madame Elizabeth_, with a magnanimity truly heroic, presented herself, when the queen was called for, and being taken for her, voluntarily subjected herself to all the brutal violence of an irritated mob. We likewise saw the opera house, built for the wedding of Lewis XVI, when dauphin, and which, during the last reign, was sometimes used as a theatre, and sometimes as a ball room. The apartment is still perfect, but the scenes and decorations have been removed. On leaving the palace, we visited several _jets d’eau_; but were prevented from viewing the garden as particularly as we could have wished, a violent shower of rain having overtaken us. The waterworks and pleasure grounds appear to have been much neglected. We dined at the _Little Trianon_, and slept there. The room, which fell to my share, was that which the unhappy Lewis formerly occupied, and the key of the door had attached to it a label, on which could still be discovered, though half effaced, the words, “appartement du roi[65].”