seum, which now,
with all the Farnese property, belongs to the King of Naples, and
is consequently going to decay. It got into his hands by the
marriage of a King of Naples with the last heiress of the house
of Farnese. The Neapolitan property here consists of the Farnese
and Farnesina Palaces, the Orti Farnesiani, and the Villa Madama,
all in a wretched state; and the Orti, in which there are
probably great remains, they will not allow to be excavated. Many
of the fine things are gone to Naples, but a few remain, most of
which came out of the Thermae of Caracalla, and originally from
the Villa of Adrian. These two, principally the one through the
other, have been the great mines from which the existing
treasures of art were drawn. The frescoes in this palace are
beautiful--a gallery by Annibal and Agostino Caracci, with a few
pictures by Domenichino, Guido, and Lanfranco. Annibal Caracci's
are as fine as any I have seen; also a little cabinet picture
painted entirely by Annibal, which is exquisite.

[Page Head: A DEAD CARDINAL]

As we were going to this palace we drove by the Cancellaria
(which was likewise built out of the Coliseum), and heard by
accident that a dead cardinal (Somaglia) was lying in state
there. Somaglia was Secretary of State in Leo's time. Having seen
all the living cardinals, we thought we might as well complete
our view of the Sacred College with the dead one, and went up.
After a great deal of knocking we were admitted to a private view
half an hour before the public was let in. He had been embalmed,
and lay on a bed under a canopy on an inclined plane, full
dressed in cardinal's robes, new shoes on, his face and hands
uncovered, the former looking very fresh (I believe he was
rouged), his fingers black, but on one of them was an emerald
ring, candles burning before the bed, and the window curtains
drawn. He was 87 years old, but did not look so much, and had a
healthier appearance in death than half the old walking mummies
we had seen with palms in their hands in the morning.

Took a look at Pasquin, who had nothing but advertisements pasted
upon him. I had seen Marphorius in the Capitol; there has long
been an end to the witty dialogues of the days of Sixtus V., so
quaintly told by Leti; they are so little 'birds of a feather'
(for Pasquin is a mutilated fragment, Marphorius a colossal
statue of the ocean) that, residing as they did at different
parts of the town, it is difficult to under