called her at that moment
beautiful; but the change was as transient as sudden--it passed like a
gleam of light over her face and vanished, and by the time the book
was placed on the desk, she looked as plain, as stupid, and as
statue-like as ever. I was the only person who had witnessed this
little by-scene; and it gave me pleasant thoughts and interest for the
rest of the evening.

Another trait of character occurred afterwards, which amused me, but
in a very different style. Our new Danish friend, the Baron B----,
told us he had once been present at the decapitation of nine men,
having first fortified himself with a large goblet of brandy. After
describing the scene in all its horrible details, and assuring us in
his bad German French that it was "_une chose bien mauvaise a voir_,"
I could not help asking him with a shudder, how he felt afterwards;
whether it was not weeks or months before the impressions of horror
left his mind? He answered with smiling naivete and taking a pinch of
snuff, "_Ma foi! madame, je n'ai pas pu manger de la viande toute
cette journee-la?_"

* * * * *

27.--We drove to the Palazzo Spada, to see the famous Spada Pompey,
said to be the very statue at the base of which Caesar fell. I was
pleased to find, contrary to my expectations, that this statue has
great intrinsic merit, besides its celebrity, to recommend it. The
extremities of the limbs have a certain clumsiness which may perhaps
be a feature of resemblance, and not a fault of the sculptor; but the
attitude is noble, and the likeness of the head to the undisputed bust
of Pompey in the Florentine gallery, struck me immediately. The
Palazza Spada, with its splendid architecture, dirt, discomfort, and
dilapidation, is a fair specimen of the Roman palaces in general. It
contains a corridor, which from an architectural deception appears
much longer than it really is. I hate tricks--in architecture
especially. We afterwards visited the Pantheon, the Church of Santa
Maria sopra Minerva, (an odd combination of names,) and concluded the
morning at Canova's. It is one of the pleasures of Rome to lounge in
the studj of the best sculptors; and it is at Rome only that sculpture
seems to flourish as in its native soil. Rome is truly the _city of
the soul_, the home of art and artists. With the divine models of the
Vatican ever before their eyes, these inspiring skies above their
heads, and the quarries of marble a