A fragment still remains, which is known by tradition as the Palace of Theodoric. It forms a little symmetrical façade in three parts; the centre has an arched gateway in the lower part, and over this a large niche, with a triple entrance at the back. The sides are recessed, terminating above in four arches, which are supported in each on three columns, and these rest upon as many corbels. The capitals are Gothic imitations of the Corinthian, but in the disposition, we may trace a similarity to the taste of Dioclesian’s palace at Spalatro. One monastery at Ravenna has been appropriated to the purposes of a public library and museum. The former is said to contain fifty thousand volumes. The museum contains a few objects of natural history, a few antiquities, a few casts for the use of the academy, and a few paintings. If this does not sound very magnificently, you must recollect that the establishment is young, and that Ravenna is no longer a flourishing city. You may abuse the Italians as you please, but can you shew me any country where, under similar circumstances of prosperity or decay, equal public spirit has been exhibited? Ravenna contains a memorial of how much this public spirit has frequently degenerated into party spirit, which are more nearly allied than it is pleasant to allow, the tomb of Dante; certainly one of the greatest, boldest, and most original geniuses of modern days, but who, exiled by a party from his native Florence, employed his wonderful talents in devoting to Hell and infamy his political enemies, and placing in Paradise, or in the way there, all his own party, however morally reprehensible. I have led you through Ravenna without saying a word to you about the Cathedral. This was a magnificent building, erected towards the end of the fourth century, having double side aisles, supported on fifty-six columns of various marbles; but all this is past, and the modern building was raised in 1734 by the archbishop Maffeo Niccolò Farsetti, at his own expense. These instances of individuals laying out great sums in public buildings are much more common in Italy than anywhere else; we could not produce one such edifice to their twenty. I am sorry the architecture is not as praiseworthy as the act. It contains two very beautiful frescos by Guido; the other churches are not rich in paintings, but there are some good ones in the private galleries. The Campanile is all that remains of the old building, or rather perhaps it was an intermediate erection of about the eleventh century. It has several points of resemblance with the baptistery. But it hardly deserves a particular description.