mediate negociation. It is, I believe, from the lying pretensions of these Mercuries, who have the impudence to offer themselves as the bearers of proposals to any woman, of any rank, that erroneous impressions have been received on this subject;— as if it were possible to believe that any woman, above the condition of absolute want, would surrender at discretion to the offers of a stranger. Still, however, the very lies of a Ruffiano must have some foundation; and indeed the existence of such a degrading profession is a sufficient evidence of a lamentable state of society.

3d. Sat an hour in the Sistine chapel-before Michael Angelo's Last Judgment. The choice of the subject shows the nature of his genius, which nothing could daunt. The figure of Christ is sublimely conceived. If Forsyth had called this—The Apollo of Painting-the expression would have perhaps been better applied, than to the St. Michael of Guido, which Smollett describes, with some truth, as exhibiting the "airs of a French dancing master!" The frightful calm of despair is admirably expressed in one of the condemned, leaning on his elbow-who is so abstracted in mental suffering, as to be utterly unconscious of

the dæmons who are dragging him down to hell. Smollett, whose criticisms are often just, talks of the confusion of the picture, and calls it " a mere mob without keeping, subordination, or repose:" -repose in the last judgment!-when the trumpet is sounding—the graves opening—and the dead awakening! I fear the confusion was in his mind —especially, when, to illustrate the effect which the picture produced upon him, he confounds two things so different-as a number of instruments in a concert-and a number of people talking at the same time. The keeping of the picture is admirable, and all is in subordination to the figure of the Saviour. Nothing can be more sublime than the action of this figure-delivering the dreadful sentence of condemnation-"Depart, ye accursed, into everlasting fire!" By the way; I am obliged to an artist for pointing out to me what, I think, would not easily be perceived;-that the Saviour is sitting down. The picture has been so much injured by time and cleaning, that, as the light now falls on it, the figure appears to be standing up. Every body has noticed the solecism of introducing into this picture a personage from the Heathen Mythology;-Charon is employed in ferrying over the bodies. Michael Angelo pro

bably followed Dante, without thinking much about the matter;

"Caron, dimonio, con occhi di bragia,
"Loro accennando, tutte le raccoglie,
"Batte col remo qualunque s' adagia.”

The skeletons are re-fleshing themselves, which -in the representation at least—has something shocking, if not ridiculous. After all, however— this famous picture is gone;-it is a ruin; and what is the ruin of a painting? The soul of beauty may still linger in the remains of architectural ruins, amidst broken entablatures, tottering pillars and falling arches ;-but when the colours of a painting are faded-it is lost for ever; -nothing is left but a remnant of canvass, or a few square feet of mortar. The Last Judgment is fast approaching to this state; though it may still remain, for some time, a school of technical excellencies to the artist, who is in pursuit of professional instruction.-If there were no other argument for preferring oil painting to fresco, surely, this single circumstance of durability is sufficient to turn the scale :—and yet Michael Angelo said, that oil painting was only fit occupation for boys, and women.

It may be sacrilege to say any thing to de

preciate the merit of Michael Angelo-but, I suspect, his reputation was obtained by the universality of his talents, rather than their separate excellence. He was an original genius, and his great merit seems to be, that he was the first to introduce a taste for the grand, and the sublime. He was, as Sir Joshua Reynolds describes him, the exalted father and founder of modern art; but, while he excelled in grandeur of style, and truth of design, he was, surely, too disdainful of the auxiliary ornaments of colouring, which are essential to the perfection of the art. If he is to be judged by his works—can he be compared to Raphael in painting, or to John of Bologna in sculpture? His Moses, which is considered his chef-d'œuvre, is to me any thing but sublime. I would propose these doubts to the consideration of those more learned than myself—though with the fear of Quintilian's sentence before my eyes:

"Modeste tamen, et circumspecto judicio, de tantis viris pronunciandum est, ne, quod plerisque accidit, damnent quæ non intelligunt."

Notwithstanding the unbounded and almost extravagant praises which Sir Joshua lavishes in his discourses, on the grand, chaste, severe style of Michael Angelo; it is remarkable that the

doctrines he has inculcated by his pen are not supported by his pencil. It may, therefore, perhaps, be doubted, whether the doctrines he laid down were not adopted from authority, rather than the real dictates of his own understanding;for the understanding may become the slave of authority, almost without knowing it;-and the proof of it is, that his own taste and discernment led him to depart from them in practice, and to indulge in all that witchery of colours, and exquisite management of chiaro-scuro, which constitute so great a part of the charm of his pictures.

In returning through the Pauline Chapel, I was shocked to see a picture to commemorate—what the Catholics ought of all others to wish forgotten —the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew.

4th. Lounged through the Capitol;—the work of Michael Angelo, on the site of the ancient Capitol. It is opened to the public, as well as the Vatican, on Sundays and Thursdays. It contains an almost inexhaustible mine of antique curiosities. There is a very full and complete collection of imperial busts, which would furnish an amusing study to a physiognomist. The histories of their lives may be read in many of their faces, particularly in those of Nero, Caligula, Caracalla, and Maxi