Four beautiful paintings represent the four quarters of the globe, and there is also a huge canvas upon which David has portrayed the triumph of man over religion and royalty. The Devil himself could not have executed a more infernal picture than is this work of the national painter (Member of the Institute). Man, displayed as a gigantic figure (stark naked), tramples on kings, priests, crowns, sceptres, crosses and rosaries; in one hand he holds a flaming torch, in the other a sword. The Goddess of Reason, tutelary genius of the Republic, majestically arrayed, smiles over her votary’s triumph. A multitude of other similar characters fill up the hellish group, and complete a picture of horror and iniquity. By what fatal perversion of human nature, a temple, consecrated to valour, patriotism and merit, should have been selected as the depository of such a vicious production, I know not. But I declare I felt petrified with horror when I gazed upon it. It is strange that the rulers of France should have not already banished from the public gaze such a sign of their past apostasy and hatred for that religion they have lately found it convenient to once more profess. To an Englishman who views the trophies which adorn this hall there is a reason for feelings of patriotic exultation. The banners of almost every European nation weep over the disasters of the valorous defenders. But only one solitary standard of Great Britain confesses to the chances of war. All the plans of Vauban,[1] in relievo, of the different docks, harbours and fortifications of France were preserved here. They have now been removed to the Bureau of the Minister of War. It was from a cabinet in the Hôtel des Invalides, containing an excellent collection of military books and also plans for subjugating Egypt, conceived under the reign of Louis XIV., and which had lain there for whole generations untouched but not forgotten, that the Council of War procured the information which enabled Bonaparte to invade Egypt--an invasion he accomplished with the most marvellous secrecy and celerity. This invasion, I know from the highest authority and those who are most intimately acquainted with him, he will again attempt whenever circumstances prove favourable to his enterprise. The monument formerly erected at St. Denis to Marshal Turenne, which was saved from the Revolutionary vandals by Monsieur Lenoir, almost at the risk of his life, has been removed from the Museum, where it was at first placed, to the Temple of Mars in this Hospital, where it is now to be seen. By a decree of the First Consul on the 1st of Vendemaire year 9, the body of Turenne,[1] which had been preserved by Lenoir in a secret tomb, was transported with great funeral pomp to the Invalides, where it was once more deposited in its ancient receptacle.