es is _Friday_.

When I entered, not a creature was in the rooms. The general effect was
splendid and imposing. I took out my memorandum-book, and went directly to
work; noticing only those subjects which appeared, on one account or other,
to be more particularly deserving of attention. There is a pretty picture
of CUPID AND PSYCHE, by _Carlo Cignani_; the simple and quiet effect of
which is much heightened by being contrasted with the very worst
representation of the _same subject_, which I ever saw, by _David_: painted
last year at Brussels. How the Marquis can afford so many square yards of
his walls for the reception of such a performance, is almost marvellous. It
is, throughout, in the worst possible taste. The countenance of Cupid, who
is sitting on the bed or couch with the vacant grin of an ideot, is that of
a negro. It is dark, and of an utterly inane expression. The colouring is
also too ruddy throughout. Near to this really heartless picture, is one of
a woman flying; well drawn, and rather tenderly coloured. Opposite, is a
picture of Venus supported in the air by a group of Cupids. The artist is
_Prudhon_. In the general glare of colour, which distinguishes the French
school, it is absolutely refreshing to have the eye soothed by something
like an attempt, as in this picture, at a mellow chiaro-oscuro. It has
undoubted merit. It is, upon the whole, finely coloured; but the
countenance of Venus is so pale as to have an almost deathly effect. It is
intended to represent her as snatched away from the sight of her dead
Adonis.

In common courtesy I must make but brief mention of a very clumsy, and
ill-drawn child, by De Broisefremont: and hasten, in the next room, to the
magnificent picture of _Diana and Endymion_, painted by Guerin in 1810, and
lately engraved. This picture is a very fair illustration of the merits and
demerits of the FRENCH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. The drawing of Endymion is, upon
the whole, good; but a palpable copy of the antique. This necessarily gives
it somewhat an air of affectation. The shepherd lies upon a bed of clouds,
(terminated by an horizon which is warmed by the rays of a setting sun)
very gracefully and perhaps naturally. He seems to sleep soundly. His whole
figure and countenance glow with the warmth of beauty and youth. I will not
disturb his slumbers by finding the least fault--even with the disposition
of the extremities. But his nightly visitor--the enamoured goddess--is, of
al