guage, she would not hear of any excuse. To work then I set,
and completed the translation of _Leonora_, together with one of Schiller's
_Feast of Eleusis_. These and my sonnet were the cause of my being
recommended for admission as a member of the Academy _degli Arcadi_ in Rome
and I received the pastoral name of _Galeso Itaoense_.

The Carnaval is now over and the ladies are all at their _Livres d'Heures_,
posting masses and prayers to the credit side, to counterbalance the sins
and frailties committed during the carnaval in the account which they keep
in the Ledger of Heaven. Dancing and masquerading are now over and
_Requiems_ and the _Miserere_ the order of the day at the _conversazioni_.

At Mr K[oelle]'s house I have become acquainted with Thorwaldsen, the famous
Danish sculptor, who is by many considered as the successful rival of
Canova; but their respective styles are so different, that a comparison can
scarce be made between them. Canova excels in the soft and graceful, in the
figures of youthful females and young men; Thorwaldsen in the grave, stern
and terrible. In a word, did I wish to have made a Hebe, a Venus, an
Antinoues, an Apollo, I should charge Canova with their execution. Did I
wish for an Ajax, an Hercules, a Neptune, a Jupiter, I should give the
preference to Thorwaldsen.

In their private characters they much resemble each other, being both
honorable, generous, unassuming, and enthusiastic lovers of their
profession and of the fine arts hi general.

I have been to see a remarkably fine picture, by a modern French artist, of
the name of Granet. It may be considered as the _chef d'oeuvre_ of the
perspective or dioramic art. This picture represents the ulterior of the
convent of the Capuchins, near the Barberini Palace. The picture is by no
means a very large one; but the optical deception is astonishing. You fancy
you are standing at the entrance of a long hall and ready to enter it; on
looking at it, thro' a piece of paper rolled hi form of a speaking
trumpet--which by hiding from the sight the frame of the picture, prevents
the illusion from being dissipated--you suppose you could walk into the
hall; and each figure of a monk therein appears a real human creature, seen
from a long distance, so skilfully has the artist disposed his light and
shade. This picture has excited the admiration of connoisseurs, as well as
others, and it is universally proclaimed a masterpiece. M. Granet's house
is fi