Gibson afterwards showed us round his own studio:  his exquisite group of Psyche borne away by the Zephyrs enchanted me.  The necessity which exists for supporting all the figures has rendered it impossible to give them the same aerial lightness I have seen in paintings of the same subject, yet they are all but aerial.  Psyche was criticised by two or three of our party; but I thought her faultless:  she is a lovely timid girl; and as she leans on her airy supporters, she seems to contemplate her flight down the precipice, half-shrinking, though secure.  Mr. W** told me that in the original design, the left foot of one of the Zephyrs rested upon the ground:  and that Canova, coming in by chance while Gibson was working on the model, lifted it up, and this simple and masterly alteration has imparted the most exquisite lightness to the attitude.

Gibson was Canova’s favourite pupil:  he has quite the air of a genius:  plain features, but a countenance all beaming with fire, spirit, and intelligence.  His Psyche remains still in the model, as he has not yet found a patron munificent enough to order it in marble; at which I greatly wonder.  Could I but afford to bestow seven hundred pounds on my own gratification, I would have given him the order on the spot.[P]

30.—­Yesterday we dined al fresco in the Pamfili gardens:  and though our party was rather too large, it was well assorted, and the day went off admirably.  The queen of our feast was in high good humour, and irresistible in charms; Frattino very fascinating, T** was caustic and witty, W** lively and clever, Sir J** mild, intelligent, and elegant, V**, as usual, quiet, sensible, and self-complacent, L** as absurd and assiduous as ever.  Every body played their part well, each by a tacit convention sacrificing to the amour propre of the rest.  Every individual really occupied with his own particular role, but all apparently happy, and mutually pleased.  Vanity and selfishness, indifference and ennui, were veiled under a general mask of good humour and good breeding, and the flowery bonds of politeness and gallantry held together those who knew no common tie of thought or interest; and when parted (as they soon will be, north, south, east, and west), will probably never meet again in this world; and whether they do or not, who thinks or cares!

Our luxurious dinner, washed down by a competent proportion of Malvoisie and Champagne, were spread upon the grass, which was literally flowery turf, being covered with violets, iris, and anemones of every dye.  Instead of changing our plates, we washed them in a beautiful fountain which murmured near us, having first, by a libation, propitiated the presiding nymph for this pollution of her limpid waters.  For my own peculiar taste there were too many servants (who on these occasions are always de trop), too many luxuries, too much fuss; but considering the style and number of our party, it was all consistently and admirably managed:  the grouping of the company, picturesque because unpremeditated, the scenery round, the arcades, and bowers, and columns, and fountains, had an air altogether quite poetical and romantic; and put me in mind of some of Watteau’s beautiful garden-pieces, and Stothard’s fetes-champetres.