tiful, grand compositions of this master. The Sibyls are of different ages, but all listen to angels who are whispering to them the words which they are to write. The composition is full of life, beauty, and nobility. These Sibyls remind me of a Sibylla which you ought to see, if you come to Rome. It is by Guercino and is in the museum of the Capitol, a figure of more solemn earnestness than those of Raphael, but with as profound a gaze, as nobly beautiful, as truly turned away from the world and fixed alone upon the eternal truth. It is known under the name of the Sibylla Pensica.
Amongst the sculptures of the museum of the Capitol, I especially remember the Faun of Praxiteles and the Dying Gladiator, the former as the representation of the most charming enjoyment of the repose of earthly life, that il dolce far niente which is so dear to the inhabitants of the South; the latter as a type of the highest disgust of life, the gladiator is wounded to death; he has nothing to look forward to, he has no hope, he wishes nothing but—to die. Silent and gloomy he looks down towards the earth; he has no friend and no God; the people exult over his sufferings. He knows it, and is alone, alone. Thus, in the old time, he was seen to fall and die in the circus of the Colosseum.
The so-called Capitoline Venus has her particular niche in the museum, and you must pay to see her, but she is worth the cost.
The ancient bronze figure of the She-Wolf which gave suck to Romulus and Remus is the most interesting art-curiosity in this museum.
