heavenly steeds, but I am quite sure they bear no resemblance to earthly ones. In a corner of the

room is Old Time, seizing hold of a frightened woman, called Truth. I gazed with astonishment and disappointment on this ceiling, for they say it is by Domenichino; but I can only say, I hope not-and that, I am sure, if Domenichino did paint it, he never painted any thing else so bad. Amongst the immense variety of frescos with which he has adorned Rome, this is the only one unworthy of his genius.

Rinaldo and Armida, borne through the air in the car of the Enchantress, drawn by dragons, is by far the finest fresco in this palace. It is by Guercino, and designed with all his force and energy, heightened by all the splendour of his chiaro oscuro. The figure of Rinaldo is very fine; but Armida is not what the poet's fancy would have painted.

Justice and Peace, by Lanfranco, as well as the extreme darkness of the room would allow us to judge, is a very fine painting; but, perhaps, the uncertain light gave it an imaginary beauty, as I have sometimes seen an ordinary woman look almost divinely lovely in the soft beam of fading twilight, or shaded moonlight; and witnessed, for the first time, scenes at that magic hour, which seemed beyond description beautiful, but which, when viewed in the garish eye of day, were stripped of every charm.

Next-I saw

"Arion-on a dolphin's back,

Uttering such pleasing and harmonious breath,

That the rude sea grew civil at his song,

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the minstrel's music."

Poetry apart, however, Arion on the Dolphin's back, is a beautiful painting, by Romanelli. Upon another ceiling, are some gods and goddesses, and peacocks, by the Cavaliere d'Arpino; and plenty of bad paintings, with high sounding titles, on the walls.

PALAZZO MATTEI.

We have been several times at the Palazzo Mattei, if possible, a still more deplorable place, than the Palazzo Costaguti, in order to see Rachael and Jacob, a fresco by Domenichino, which, by a kind of fatality, we have never yet seen. Our attempts have been all fruitless; either we thundered for half an hour at the door, and got no answer, or, if we obtained admittance, the Cardinal Mattei was in bed, or at dinner; or else he had gone out with the key in his pocket, even when a time had been fixed; so that we have given it up in despair. By means of our frequent visitations, we saw some very fine ancient bas reliefs, in the court and on the staircase, and one fine painting in the house-a Holy Family, painted by Parmagianino, with all that grace and captivating sweetness, to which he always aspired; and without any of that unfortunate affectation which too often marred his works. Yet, the best of them prove that he was a mannerist, and a close, though a successful

imitator of Corregio. But an imitator, in any of the fine arts, can never be great; or, rather, a truly great genius will never be an imitator;-for the very art of imitation is a confession of inferiority. Still, so beautiful are many of his paintings, that we cannot but regret that this infatuated man should have wasted his time, his talents, his fortune, and his life, upon the wild and visionary pursuit of alchemy, in which he blasted all his hopes, and sacrificed even his integrity.

LETTER LXIV.

PASQUIN-PALAZZO BRASCHI-PALAZZO GUISTINIONI-PANTHEON BY MOONLIGHT-PALAZZO

BORGHESE.

THE mutilated statue of Pasquin stands at the corner of the Palazzo Braschi, where he has cut his caustic jokes for many an age, and levelled, with impunity, his sarcasms against priests and princes, popes and cardinals, church and state.

The Statue of Marforio, in the court of the Museum of the Capitol, was his ancient respondent, but their witty dialogues and smart repartees, are now at an end.

There is another mutilated figure in a street in Rome, which is known by the name of Madam Lucretia, but, unlike the loquacity of her sex, she has always maintained a strict silence.

Pasquinades, however, are still occasionally current in Rome, though, perhaps, no longer affixed upon Pasquin. Amongst many smart epigrams, and squibs of satire, some of which would not be intelligible out of Rome, the following seems to me one of the best, and it has, at least, as much truth as point to recommend it.

"Hic venditur Christus, venduntur dogmata Patri,
Descendam infernum ne quoque vendar Ego?"

Pasquin did not spare the French during their stay here. Among the many squibs against them, he said,

"I Francesi son' tutti ladri.'

"Non tutti―ma Buonaparte,"

was the anticipated reply.

On a tremendous storm, which took place after the decrees of Buonaparte were put in force at Rome, the following somewhat profane pasquinade appeared :

"L'Altissimo in sù, ci manda la tempesta,
L'Altissimo qua giù, ci toglia qualche resta,
E fra le Duc Altissimi,

Stiamo noi Malissimi." *

Canova finished the figure of Italy, for the tomb of Alfieri, about the time the French overran the country. Soon afterwards the following appeared:

"Questa volta Canova C'ha sbagliato,
Ha l'Italia vestito, ed é spogliata.'

One of the best things of the kind, I think, was made on the colonnade, in front of Carlton House, by an Italian, a man of some taste, who, being accustomed to see columns supporting something, or of

* On the late visit of the Emperor Francis to Rome, a pasquinade has appeared, free from this fault.

"Gaudiam Urbis. Fletus Provinciarum. Risu Mundi."