ostom, I fell into
a more profound sleep than I should have done in my bed. The loud and
brilliant airs did not disturb my repose. But who can explain the
delicious sensations given me by the soft harmony of the angelic music,
by which I was charmed from sleep; what an awaking! what ravishment!
what ecstasy, when at the same instant I opened my ears and eyes! My
first idea was to believe I was in paradise. The ravishing air, which I
still recollect and shall never forget, began with these words:

Conservami la bella,
Che si m'accende il cor.

I was desirous of having it; I had and kept it for a time; but it was not
the same thing upon paper as in my head. The notes were the same but the
thing was different. This divine composition can never be executed but
in my mind, in the same manner as it was the evening on which it woke me
from sleep.

A kind of music far superior, in my opinion, to that of operas, and which
in all Italy has not its equal, nor perhaps in the whole world, is that
of the 'scuole'. The 'scuole' are houses of charity, established for the
education of young girls without fortune, to whom the republic afterwards
gives a portion either in marriage or for the cloister. Amongst talents
cultivated in these young girls, music is in the first rank. Every
Sunday at the church of each of the four 'scuole', during vespers,
motettos or anthems with full choruses, accompanied by a great orchestra,
and composed and directed by the best masters in Italy, are sung in the
galleries by girls only; not one of whom is more than twenty years of
age. I have not an idea of anything so voluptuous and affecting as this
music; the richness of the art, the exquisite taste of the vocal part,
the excellence of the voices, the justness of the execution, everything
in these delightful concerts concurs to produce an impression which
certainly is not the mode, but from which I am of opinion no heart is
secure. Carrio and I never failed being present at these vespers of the
'Mendicanti', and we were not alone. The church was always full of the
lovers of the art, and even the actors of the opera came there to form
their tastes after these excellent models. What vexed me was the iron
grate, which suffered nothing to escape but sounds, and concealed from me
the angels of which they were worthy. I talked of nothing else. One day
I spoke of it at Le Blond's; "If you are so