sures of art which this palace once contained, to their kingdom of Naples. Happily, the admirable fresco ceilings, by Annibal Caracci, were not among them in these, he and his scholars have greatly distinguished themselves. The triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne, the Galatea, and others, contain a great deal that is masterly in the drawing ; and the colouring of the draperies show a more delicate feeling for beauty than is usual in their oils. The whole series excited my hearty admiration ; yet I must confess that, though I am told the forms display a thorough knowledge of anatomy, there is a want, to my eye, of that delicate play of muscle which speaks the life within. The flesh tints incline rather to a brick colour, but in some of the figures are clear and delicate.

Are you very tired of the palaces? A sympathetic something whispers, "yes." I will be merciful, and let you rest after one short visit to the Farnesina, another beautiful work of Peruzzi, and the very model of a Casino. In the desolate region called Il Trastavere, and on the walls of an unfinished palace, the celebrated frescos of Cupid and Psyche, by Raphael and his scholars, are allowed to moulder away or worse, are re-painted by the profane hand of Carlo Maratti. There is still great beauty in single figures, in others a heaviness, which must be ascribed to the scholars: Giulio Romano was one of the principal. One of the Graces is by Raphael's own hand. Amateurs, and critics, too, assert that the conception and execution are of the purest and truest beauty. I can only say, I differ from them. The Galatea is also principally his own work. Nothing can exceed the life, the joyous spirit, united with a grace and sweetness-all his own-which pervade this beautiful work. Still I look to the Vatican to show me Raphael in perfection. Amidst all the beauty, purity, and excellence of the works I have seen, I feel there must be something higher-more perfect still, to satisfy all I look for in this most gifted master. The most eminent of his scholars, Giulio Romano, is said to have penetrated almost

more deeply into the spirit of the antique than himself, and stamped it with a new character, that of Italian art. He caught the subjects of the ancient mythology with true poetic taste, and largely assisted his master in the graceful fables of the Cupid, &c. in the Farnesina. The few of his sacred subjects we have seen are very inferior, though his drawing shows a fine taste for beauty, arrangement, and grouping. It is melancholy to see such inestimable works perishing from want of care, still more melancholy that other hands should be allowed to touch them, and one can hardly understand the apathy of the proprietor, though absent, which thus consigns them to inevitable destruction.

You must come here yourself fully to understand how differently one feels towards the "Ancient Masters," when surrounded by the living evidences of their greatness. At home we think of them as "the great men of old," far far removed from personal sympathy, and even forget the ages that separated them from the ancients of the classic era. But here, in the actual scenes of their labours, we seem to be contemporaries, we live where they have lived, walk in their steps, watch their progress in unfinished works, rejoice in the completion of others. We see how they triumphed over difficulties, and know how they were rewarded by the friendship and approbation of the learned, the wise, and the beautiful.

Here, on one of the walls, is a crayon sketch of a large head, the careless whim of a master-hand, said to have been done by Michael Angelo, as a token of his visit to the palace, while the works were in progress. looks as fresh as if the lines had been but this moment traced by his impetuous hand.

It

I fear if I do not conclude this long letter, you will wish me with the ancients (if in no worse company). To prevent such a catastrophe, I will say farewell; but I warn you, there are more palaces to be visited before we leave Rome!

"And now to breakfast with what appetite you may."

WHEN a nation is in a high state of excitement, it is apt to pay too little attention to its financial concerns. Those who are interested in keeping up the excitement, are cautious not to turn the minds of the people to matters which require a mature and careful consideration. In this state of things, pecuniary affairs receive a very summary discussion. If a tax is complained of as too heavy, or impolitic, or injurious to trade, the ready answer is given, that every tax is a grievance, and must be felt by those who pay it; that the tax produces a certain sum, which the minister states in pounds, shillings, pence, and farthings; (producing a great sensation by this minuteness of detail;) that the nation cannot do without this income, and, that those who pray for a remission or reduction of this tax, ought to be prepared to show some mode of collecting an equal revenue, more free from objection, and likely to cause less inconvenience to the public.

This latter argument at once disposes of the question, if the petitioners are poor, uninfluential persons, unskilled in the mysteries of finance. If they endeavour to meet it by proposing some other scheme of taxation, they are sure to commit some blunders, real or apparent, or to raise such enemies, among those who would suffer by the new tax, as will effectually repel all endeavours to alter the existing system.

But if the petitioners are men of influence, they will wisely take another course. In their appeals to the public they will confine themselves to that view of the question in which their arguments will appear the strongest. They will dwell upon the inconvenience of the tax, and the advantages of reducing it; they will say as little as they can about the revenue derived from it; and, if unable to avoid that part of the subject, they will meet it by magnificent promises of the increased revenue to be derived from extended consumption; and that at the worst, the loss may be repaid in

some other manner, which they do not feel themselves called upon to state. But their most powerful argument will be, an array of their strength, and an appeal to the fears of the ministers, who will scarcely venture to refuse to agree to a proposal supported by any plausible argument, and the threats of a compact parliamentary faction.

When money is actually wanted, and the income of the state is found unequal to its necessities, the deficiency will be supplied by the ready expedient of a loan, rather than the unpopular imposition of a new tax. In this manner the finances of the country become every day more de ranged, until the country is ready for a revolution. A deficient income, during peace, is a premonitory symptom of an impending revolution.

But the good sense of the people of England, and the abilities of a wise statesman have, on a former occasion, extricated the nation from similar difficulties.

In a

When Mr. Pitt took office in 1784, he found the finances of the nation in a deplorable condition; the revenue inadequate to meet the expenses of the peace establishment, and the nation exhausted by the disastrous American war, and apparently unable to bear any additional burdens. short time Mr. Pitt reformed the tariff of customs, and introduced a proper relation between the income and expenditure of the country, and even succeeded in obtaining such a surplus revenue, as enabled him to lay the foundation of his celebrated plan for reducing, and ultimately redeeming the national debt, by means of a sinking fund. Such was the spirit he

then infused into the councils of the nation, and the determination then excited, to keep the expenses of the state within its income, that for a period of upwards of fifty years, commencing from the end of the first year after Mr. Pitt's acceptance of office, until the last few years of the late Whig government, the expenses of the country, in time of peace never

exceeded its income, but always left a surplus to be applied to the reduction of the national debt.

Our readers are all aware how the late ministers contrived to convert a surplus of more than two millions into a deficiency of about the same amount. They were never willing to risk the unpopularity which is apt to attend the imposition of a new tax, or, in some cases, even the defence of an old one, if it is vigorously assailed. They were content to live for the present hour, and to provide for the future by magnificent promises. One only attempt they made to increase the income of the nation, so as, not indeed to create a surplus,-for the hopes of the Whigs never seemed to have aspired so high,-but to effect a small reduction in the amount of the deficiency. The mode they adopted was the clumsy, childish expedient, of adding an equal per centage to all the

taxes.

We can imagine them consulting some stranger as to the best step to be taken to increase the revenue, and being answered that they must impose some new tax: "But we cannot devise any new tax that would not meet with opposition; and we are too weak to carry any measure that is opposed." "Well, you must add, say five per cent to some of the taxes already in existence." "Which of them ought we select for this increased taxation?" "Make no selection. Impose the same proportional increase upon all, and then there will be no room for jealousy."

And this step was accordingly adopted; not because it was the best, but because it was the one which would give the ministers the least trouble in framing the measure, or in its passage through the House of

Commons.

A remarkable incident proved how little reflection the minister bestowed upon the operation of this increased taxation. A member objected to the proposed increase to the duty on tobacco, and the answer given by the Chancellor of the Exchequer was, that as the duty on tobacco was already four hundred per cent, an increase of five per cent only, need not be much regarded. He did not reflect that the addition proposed was a per centage on the duty, not on the first

cost price; that five per cent on the duty was equivalent to an ad valorem duty of twenty per cent; and that therefore the proposed increase of duty made a greater proportional increase to the price of tobacco than to that of any other article, and that, too, on account of the very circumstance which was relied on by the Chancellor of the Exchequer to prove the contrary.

We all remember how the penny postage act was extorted from the ministers, contrary to their expressed opinions. The arguments on which it was supported proved utterly futile, so far as they were employed to prove that an increase, not a diminution of revenue would be the consequence of the reduction. The ministers cared very little about this, but were content with the vague, unmeaning promise, that the House of Commons would make good any deficiency in the revenue, which might be occasioned by the reduction in the rates of postage.

The last exploit of the Whigs, in the financial department, was the celebrated budget of 1841, which will raise disputes among future historians to ascertain the motives, or objects, of those who brought it in. None can fail to remark the inconsistency between the magnificent promises, made by the ministers, of the splendid consequences to result from the reception of their budget, and the fact, that during their long tenure of office (during part of which they did possess some power) they had brought in no measure of a similar nature, and had even opposed similar projects, when brought in by independent members of the house. Some will suppose that the ministers had grown desperate, from their recent defeats, and had resolved, before they retired, to run amuck, and destroy all the principal interests opposed to them, especially the colonial and agricultural. Others will

suppose that they merely intended to live another year upon promises, and hoped that the country would endure them a little longer, in order to give their new experiments a fair trial.

We cannot agree with either of those opinions, for this reason,—that the ministers had made the knowledge of the strength of the different parties in the house the object of their pecu