k upon the glorious scenes with which I
am surrounded, not with the impertinent inquisition of a book-maker,
nor the gloomy calculations of a politician, nor the sneering selfism
of a Smelfungus--but with the eye of the painter, and the feeling of
the poet.

A-propos to poets!--Lady C** has just sent us tickets for Sestini's
Accademia to-morrow night. So far from the race of Improvvisatori
being extinct, or living only in the pages of Corinne, or in the
memory of the Fantastici, and the Bandinelli, the Gianas, and the
Corillas of other days,--there is scarcely a small town in Italy, as I
am informed, without its Improvvisatore; and I know several
individuals in the higher classes of society, both here, and at
Florence more particularly, who are remarkable for possessing this
extraordinary talent--though, of course, it is only exercised for the
gratification of a private circle. Of those who make a public
exhibition of their powers, Sgricci and Sestini are the most
celebrated--and of these Sgricci ranks first. I never heard him; but
Signior Incoronati, who knows him well, described to me his talents
and powers as almost supernatural. A wonderful display of his art was
the _improvvisazione_--we have no English word for a talent which in
England is unknown,--of a regular tragedy on the Greek model, with the
choruses and dialogue complete. The subject proposed was from the
story of Ulysses, which afforded him an opportunity of bringing in the
whole sonorous nomenclature of the Heathen Mythology,--which, says
Forsyth, enters in the web of every improvvisatore, and assists the
poet both with rhymes and ideas. Most of the celebrated improvvisatori
have been Florentines: Sgricci is, I believe, a Neapolitan, and his
rival Sestini a Roman.

* * * * *

_April 7._--Any public exhibition of talent in the Fine Arts is here
called an _Accademia_. Sestini gave his Accademia in an anti-chamber
of the Palazzo ----, I forget its name, but it was much like all the
other _palaces_ we are accustomed to see here; exhibiting the same
strange contrast of ancient taste and magnificence, with present
meanness and poverty. We were ushered into a lofty room of noble size
and beautiful proportions, with its rich fresco-painted walls and
ceiling faded and falling to decay; a common brick floor, and sundry
window panes broken, and stuffed with paper. The room was nearly
filled by the audience, amongst whom I remarked