of Parisian life was charged with an unwholesome _miasma_ which filled Redhead with horror and disgust, despite his fiery advocacy of the Revolution in its earlier stages. The man of genius who was destined eventually to re-establish order was only First Consul; but even then people were beginning to whisper that he intended to make himself King or Emperor. Naturally, Redhead, as an Englishman, has not many compliments to bestow on Napoleon; though, had he lived to see the accomplishment of the great Corsican’s work, he might have entertained a higher opinion of the “ogre.” As it was, Redhead was disgusted with Napoleon’s ostentatious display, and above all with the manner in which the spoils stolen from Italy were exhibited in Paris; one of his most interesting letters being that in which he describes the condition of the Louvre even as he saw it stuffed with the treasures of Italy, many of which bore inscriptions he considered an outrage to decency. Thus, for instance, on the _Madonna del Orto_ might have been read, “This picture was taken from the church of Santa Maria del Orto at Venice,” or again, “This picture, one of the best that Paul Veronese ever painted, was taken from the church of the nuns of St. Zacharia at Venice,” and so on. Unfortunately, many of the pictures brought to Paris were injudiciously restored; and when, after the Treaty of Vienna, they were returned to Italy, it was found that they had been irreparably damaged. Not content with carrying off pictures, statues, and other works of art, Napoleon carted away the chief archives of the foremost Italian cities; and these were so carelessly packed that many hundreds of valuable documents were irretrievably lost. From the artistic and historical point of view, the French Revolution was especially injurious to Italy. Venice not only lost her independence, but half her art treasures. During the French occupation at the beginning of the nineteenth century, forty of her churches were closed and thirty of them destroyed, amongst the finest of them being San Gregorio, still standing though desecrated; and the Servi, one of the largest and most historical in the city, not a stone of which exists. Eugène Beauharnais, when Governor of Venice, pulled down Palladio’s Church of San Geminiano, which stood opposite St. Mark’s, to increase the Royal Palace, and over thirty of the characteristic and beautiful _campanile_, or church towers, which form so delightful a feature in Venetian scenery, were destroyed, their material being carted away to build the new fortifications. At Verona the magnificent church of San Zeno was desecrated (since restored), and two out of three of its splendid cloisters were wantonly laid level. Padua, and, indeed, every other city in Venetia, suffered losses. Ravenna lost three of the handsomest of her ancient basilicas, including San Agnese, whose fine mosaics are now in the Berlin Museum. Milan lost fifty churches full of fine frescoes by Leonardo, Luini,