aldsen'. Tuscany seems to be flourishing and contented; the
Government is absolute but mild, the Grand Duke enormously rich.

March 23rd, 1830 {p.299}

Yesterday morning breakfasted with Lord Normanby, who has got a
house extending 200 feet in front, court, garden, and stables for
about L280 a year, everything else cheap in proportion, and upon
L2,000 a year a man may live luxuriously. His house was
originally fitted up for the Pretender, and C. R.'s are still to
be seen all over the place. Called on Lord Burghersh,[11] who was
at breakfast--the table covered with manuscript music, a
pianoforte, two fiddles, and a fiddler in the room. He was full
of composition and getting up his opera of 'Phaedra' for
to-morrow night. The Embassy is the seat of the Arts, for Lady
Burghersh has received the gift of painting as if by inspiration,
and she was in a brown robe in the midst of oils, and brushes,
and canvas; and a model was in attendance, some part of whose
person was to be introduced into a fancy piece. She copies
pictures in the Gallery, and really extraordinarily well if it be
true that till a year ago she had never had a brush in her hand,
and that she is still quite ignorant of drawing.

[11] [Lord Burghersh, afterwards Earl of Westmoreland, was
then British Minister at Florence.]

Went into two or three of the churches, then to the Gallery, and
sat for half an hour in the Tribune, but could not work myself
into a proper enthusiasm for the 'Venus,' whose head is too small
and ankles too thick, but they say the more I see her the more I
shall like her. I prefer the 'Wrestlers,' and the head of the
'Remontleur' is the only good _head_ I have seen, the only one
with expression. 'Niobe' is fine, but I can't bear her children,
except one. Then to the Casine on horseback to see the town and
the world: it seems a very enjoyable place. This morning again
dropped into some of the churches, after which I have always a
hankering, though there is great sameness in them, but I have a
childish liking for Catholic pomp. The fine things are lost
amidst a heap of rubbish, but there is no lack of marble, and
painting, and gilding in most of them. They are going on with the
Medici Chapel, on which millions have been wasted and more is
going after, for the Grand Duke is gradually finishing the work.
The profusion of marble is immense, and very fine and curious if
examined in detail; the precious stones are hardly seen