The Penn's Grove record., 1884-06-07

leads from the Cathedral square 10 the
Geological Gardens stands a circular,
windowless building. After paying a
franc for admission | was left to grope
my way along a narrow, dark passage
way, which only came to an end when
a quintette of toes tried to dislocate a
staircase. Stumbling upward, day
light finally appeared by the opening of
a small door. The scene was bewilder-
ing; the transformation was as wonder
full as it was sudden. A moment before
| had been propelling my way through
groups of Jolly BelgianS who thronged
the avenue; now | stood on the battle
field of Waterloo, n of those marvel
GUS panOramas of battle scenes that
picture the conflict with startling
reality. A clear sky, save for q patch
of black clouds in the east that threat
ened a thunder storm and a few lurid
shafts of flame shooting from burning
buildings, gave a hooking brightness
to the scene of blood. All around the
eye ranged over imaginary distances of
hills and valleys and s~teep-roofed houses
until the earth and sky joined hands
and dropped the curtain. While yet
taking in the wide view, | walked to
the wooden railing that incloses the
platform, and leaned over The first
look almost mesmeri2ed me with horror.
l shuddered with a terror painfully
real. There lay, almost within reach,
a dead soldier, his sabrecut face both
bloody and pale, his eyes glaring with
t%ranstxing glassiness, his teeth protrud-
ing from the bloodless, Shrunken lips,
his hair tangled in bloody masses. Be-
side him, almost hidden in the long
grass, IA lis gun, snapped in two,
while his helmet, resting on a bed of
v%ioIets, faded and dying from the crush,
lay near his dead horse. 1t is supposed
to be ) O'Clock In the afternoon. To
the right is a deep ravine, already filled
with dead and dying soldiers. On one
side is a British square, each man a
citadel of strength as defiance and cour-
age CLEAN from his eye. One noble
fellow, pierced by a bail, is dying, his
right hand ~clutehing his coat with a
terrible grasp. One can almost hear
the death rattle of the hero! Bearing
down upon them with a wild, reckless
abandon is a corps of grenadIers and
the Milhaud cuirassiers, with drawn
saDers, with which to add to the groan-
ing, bleeding heaps in the ditch. Here
one is thrown from his saddle, and Is
being dragged to death over the up
turned earth; there a shell from an
English gun is cieaVing ahorrible path
way through a line of begrlmed uni
forms. Over all is shed the reflection
from burning barns and hostelries.
Surrounded by a score of officers a SOL
der, plainly attired, though his uni
form betokened military rank. is anxi-
ously watching the struggle and ques-
tioning the peasant at his side
Napoleon reads his doom and his
sentence! One sees Napoleon everywhere
In Europe. Canvas and paint, marble
and stone, clay and terra Gotta, wood
and wax have all been utilized to pro-
| duce his form and features, and even
the rocky wall that juts into the Rhine
where the Lurlei nymph nee kept
house is said to portray the very like
ness of the great Emperor, but as far
| as | could see the jagged edge might
have represented Robin Hood or Ben
iamin Brown with as much correctness
had not the guide b ok assured me l
was mistaken. The saloons of Yer
sailles and the LouvTe-picture him as a
! pretty-featured boy posing at his
| mothers knee; as the Consul, standing
in stately attitude before his fellow
ministers; as the husband, surrounded
by Josephine and her children; as the
determined and almost uncomfortable
soldier at the Pyramids, at Austerlitz,
at Wagram, at jena.
But Brussels CABS the climax. In
one of the rooms of the Weirtz Gallery
is a stretch Of canvas which for blood
curdling awiulneSs and condensed hor-
| ror cannot be equalled by some of the
m4rtyrdom paintings in the Roman
galleries. In the midst of kissing,
darling flames stands Napoleon-in
HE'LL Clad in a military costume, gay
with its colors and adornments, he
stands erect with folded arms. Crowd
ing closely around him are scores of
wild eyed creatures who, with an I'M
petuosity of revengeful grief and in
tense hatred, are reyiling him as the
author of all their misery and unhappl-
ness. A mother defiantly holds a leg,
reeking with blood, before his eyes-a
ghRS ly relic of a boy murdered in bat
tie; a father bears in his arms a hlednuS
head-all that is left OF his only son; a
brother carries the trunk of a brother
slain at Wa rl0O, aud conffonts thu
great maker OF war; a child In the
background is borne down with the re-
mains of her father. One leaves the
room with a feeling of discomfort that
Fhaiuts him like a bad dream Tor days
atterward.
saw Napoleon still again in London
at Madame Tussaud's exhibition on
Baker street. An extra fee admits the
visitor to the Napoleon room. In Its
center, lying in state on what was his
own camp bedstead at st. Helena, rests
Napoleon. clad in his chasseur uniform
and covered with the cloak he wore at
Marengo. In one corner OF the apart
ment is seen the famous carriage cap
turea from Napoleon at Wauerloo-a
remarkable old vehicle, having carried
ITS illustrious owner to Nose Nv, to
Dresden, to Paris, to the Mediterran-
can, and finally to Waterloo. Now
it is shown for sixpencel Inside it is a
W ynderful combination of secret
drawers, writing desks, dining tables