On entering the first of those rooms, where the prints are kept, you are immediately struck with the narrow dimensions of the place—­for the succeeding room, though perhaps more than twice as large, is still inadequate to the reception of its numerous visitors.[21] In this first room you observe a few of the very choicest productions of the burin, from the earliest periods of the art, to the more recent performances of Desnoyer, displayed within glazed frames upon the wainscot.  It really makes the heart of a connoisseur leap with ecstacy to see such Finiguerras, Baldinis, Boticellis, Mantegnas, Pollaiuolos, Israel Van Meckens, Albert Durers, Marc Antonios, Rembrandts, Hollar, Nanteuils, Edelincks, &c.; while specimens of our own great master engravers, among whom are Woollet and Sharp, maintain a conspicuous situation, and add to the gratification of the beholder.  The idea is a good one; but to carry it into complete effect, there should be a gallery, fifty feet long, of a confined width, and lighted from above:[22] whereas the present room is scarcely twenty feet square, with a disproportionably low ceiling.  However, you cannot fail to be highly gratified—­and onwards you go—­diagonally—­and find yourself in a comparatively long room—­in the midst of which is a table, reaching from nearly one end to the other, and entirely filled (every day) with visitors, or rather students—­busied each in their several pursuits.  Some are quietly turning over the succeeding leaves, on which the prints are pasted:  others are pausing upon each fine specimen, in silent ecstacy—­checking themselves every instant lest they should break forth into rapturous exclamations!... “silence” being rigidly prescribed by the Curators—­and, I must say, as rigidly maintained.  Others again are busied in deep critical examination of some ancient ruin from the pages of Piranesi or of Montfaucon—­now making notes, and now copying particular parts.  Meanwhile, from the top to the bottom of the sides of the, room, are huge volumes of prints, bound in red morocco; which form indeed the materials for the occupations just described.[23]

But, hanging upon a pillar, at the hither end of this second room, you observe a large old drawing of a head or portrait, in a glazed frame; which strikes you in every respect as a great curiosity.  M. Du Chesne, the obliging and able director of this department of the collection, attended me on my first visit.  He saw me looking at this head with great eagerness.  “Enfin voila quelque chose qui merite bien votre attention”—­observed he.  It was in fact the portrait of “their good but unfortunate KING JOHN”—­as my guide designated him.  This Drawing is executed in a sort of thick body colour, upon fine linen:  the back-ground is gold:  now almost entirely tarnished—­and there is a sort of frame, stamped, or pricked out, upon the surface of the gold—­as we see in the illuminations of books of that period.  It should also seem as if the first layer, upon which the gold is placed, had been composed of the white of an egg—­or of some such glutinous substance.  Upon the whole, it is an exceedingly curious and interesting relic of antient graphic art.