Chapter X (1)

Journey from Florence to Rome--Sienna--Radicofani--Bolsena--Montefiascone wine--Viterbo--Baccano--The Roman Campagna--The papal _douane_--Monuments and Museums in Rome--Intolerance of the Catholic Christians--The Tiber and the bridges--Character of the Romans--The _Palassi_ and _Ville_--Canova's atelier--Theatricals--An execution in Rome.

September----, 1816.

I made an agreement with a _vetturino_ to take me to Rome for three _louis d'or_ and to be _spesato_. In the carriage were two other passengers, viz., a Neapolitan lady, the wife of a Colonel in the Neapolitan service, and a young Roman, the son of the _Barigello_ or _Capo degli Sbirri_ at Rome. We issued from the _Porta Romana_ at 6 o'clock a.m. the 3d September.

The road winds thro' a valley, and has a gentle ascent nearly the whole way to Poggibonsi, where we brought to the first night. The soil hereabouts is far from fertile, but every inch of it is put to profit. The olive tree is very frequent and several farms and villages are to be met with. The next day we arrived at 12 o'clock at Sienna. The approach to Sienna is announced by a quantity of olive trees. The situation of this city being on an elevation, makes it cold and bleak. We remained here three hours, so that I had time to visit some of the places worthy of remark in this venerable city, which is handsome and very solidly built, but has rather a sombre appearance. The _Piazza Grande_ lies in a bottom to which you descend from the environing streets. It is in the shape of a mussel shell and of very large size. The Cathedral is Gothic and is a very majestic and venerable building. Inside it is of black and yellow marble. The pavement of this church contains Scripture histories in mosaic. A library is annexed to the church. The librarian pointed out to me 80 folio volumes of church music with illuminated plates; likewise an ancient piece of sculpture much mutilated, viz., a group of the three Graces. In one of the chapels of this Cathedral are eight columns of _verd-antique_. I observed a monument of the Piccolomini family who belong to this city; one of which family figured a good deal in the Thirty Years' War in Germany. I saw several women in the Cathedral and at the windows of the houses. The greater part of them were handsome. The Italian language is spoken here in its greatest purity; it is the pure Tuscan dialect without the Tuscan aspiration. The Siennese language is in fact the identical _lingua Toscana in bocca Romana_.

We arrived the same evening at Buon Convento, an old dismal dirty-looking town formerly fortified; but the country in the environs is pleasing enough. The inn here is very bad. On the road between Sienna and this place I observed a number of mulberry trees.

The next morning, the 5th Sept., we arrived at Radicofani or rather at an inn or post house facing Radicofani. This is a very ancient city, and from its being on an eminence it has an imposing appearance. Above it towers an immense conical shaped mountain, evidently a volcano in former times. In fact, the whole country hereabouts is volcanic, which is plainly seen from the immense masses of calcined stones, the exhalations of sulphur and the dreary wild appearance of the country, where scarce a tree is to be seen. I never in my life saw so many calcined rocks and stones of great magnitude heaped together as at Radicofani. It gave the idea as if it were the identical field of battle between Jupiter and the Titans, and as if the masses of rock that everywhere meet the eye had been hurled at the Empyreum by the Titans and had fallen back on the spot from whence they were torn up. It is indeed very probable that this volcano which vomited forth rocks and stones in a very remote age, gave rise to the Fable of the war between Jupiter and the Giants; just as the volcanos in Sicily and Stromboli gave rise to the story of the Cyclops with one eye (the crater) in their forehead. But the mountain of Radicofani must have been a volcano anterior even to Aetna; it presents the image of an ancient world destroyed by fire.

At Ponte Centino the next morning we took our leave of

_La patria bella
Di vaghe Donne e di dolce favella;_

in plain prose, we left the Tuscan territory, and re-entered the dominions of His Holiness. After being detained half an hour at the _Douane_, we proceeded to Acquapendente to breakfast. The country between Radicofani and Acquapendente is dreary, thinly populated, little cultivated, and volcanic steams of sulphur assail the nostrils. Before we arrived at Acquapendente we had a troublesome river to cross, which at times is nearly dry, and at other times the water comes down in torrents from the surrounding mountains and precipices, so as to render its passage extremely dangerous. It is always necessary previous to the passage of a carriage, to send on a man to ford and sound it, from its meandering and forming different beds crossed seven times, twice less than Styx _novies interfusa_, and it is a very slow operation from the number of rocks and quicksands; so that, should the torrent come down while you are in the act of crossing, you and your whole equipage would be swept away by the stream and drowned or dashed to pieces. Travellers going to and returning from Rome are frequently detained for a day or two at Ponte Centino or Acquapendente during the rainy season; for immediately after heavy rains, there is always a great risk and it is better to halt for several hours to allow the waters to pass off. The extent of ground that this river covers by its meandering and forming so many beds nearly parallel to each other renders it impossible to construct a bridge long enough; and it would be always liable to be swept away by the torrent. Nobody ever thinks of crossing the river in the dark. There having no rain fallen for several days we passed it without difficulty.

Within a mile of Acquapendente the landscape varies and the approach to this town is exceedingly picturesque. Acquapendente is situated on a lofty eminence from which several magnificent cascades descend into the ravine below and which give the name to the town. There are a great number of trees about this town and they afford a great relief to the eye of the traveller after so many hours' journey thro' volcanic wastes. The town of Acquapendente is very ancient; it is very large, but ill-paved and dirty; the best buildings in it are, however, modern. The inhabitants appear lazy and dirty. On entering into conversation with some soldiers belonging to the Papal army, who were stationed at this place, I found that most of them had served under Napoleon. They spoke of him with tears of affection in their eyes, and I pleased them much by reciprocating their opinions of that great man. To speak well of Napoleon is the surest passport to civility and good treatment on the part of the soldiers and _douaniers_.

In the evening we arrived at Bolsena, the ancient Volsinium, a city of the Volscians. It is an ancient looking town, not very clean, and inhabited by indolent people. It is situated on the banks of a large lake, on which there are three small islands. It is very aguish and unhealthy, and the inhabitants appear sickly, with marvellous sallow complexions. The inn where we put up was a pretty good one, and as this lake abounds in fish, we had some excellent trout and pike for supper; among other dishes there was one that was very gratifying to me, an old East and West Indian; and that was the _Peveroni_ or large red and green peppers or capsicums fried in oil. Some excellent Orvieto wine crowned our repast, and helped to restore us from our fatigues.

On leaving Bolsena the next morning, the 7th, and within a very short distance from that town we entered a thick and venerable forest, thro' which the road runs for several miles. Fine old trees of immense height covered with foliage and thickly studded together give to this forest an aweful and romantic appearance. It is quite a _lucus opaca ingens_. This forest has been held sacred since the earliest times and is even now held in such superstitious veneration by the people that they do not allow it to be cut. The Dryads and Hamadryads have no doubt long ago taken their flight, but the wood, from its length and opaqueness, inspired me with some apprehension lest it might be the abode of some modern votaries of Mercury, people having confused ideas of _meum_ and _tuum_, and the _appropriative faculty_ too strongly developed in their organization, and I expected every moment to hear a shot and the terrible cry of _ferma_; but we met with no accident nor did we fall in with a living soul. On issuing from this forest we perceived on an eminence before us, at a short distance, the town of Montefiascone. We stopped there as almost all travellers do to taste the famous Montefiascone wine or _Est_ wine, as it is frequently called. This wine is fine flavored, _pétillant_ and wonderfully exhilarating. It is renowned for having occasioned the death of a German prelate in the sixteenth century, who was travelling in Italy and who was remarkably fond of good wine. The story is as follows. He was accustomed to send on his servant to the different towns thro' which he was to pass with directions, to taste and report on the quality of the different wines to be found there, and if they were good to mark the word _Est_ on the casks from which he tasted them. The servant, on arrival at Montefiascone, was highly pleased with the flavour of the wine, of which there were three casks at the inn where they put up. He accordingly wrote the word _Est_ on each of the casks. The Bishop arrived soon after and took such a liking to this wine that he died in a few days of a fever brought on by continual intoxication. He was buried in one of the churches at Montefiascone and the monks of the Convent there, themselves _bons-vivans_, determined to give him a suitable epitaph. They accordingly caused to be engraved on his tomb the following Latin inscription commemorative of the event: _Est, Est, Est, propter nimium Est, Dominus Episcopus mortuus_ EST. From the above circumstance this wine is called _Vino d'Est_, and it affords no small revenue to the proprietor of the _cabaret_ on the road side who sells it.

We arrived at Viterbo to breakfast and at Ronciglione in the evening. Viterbo is a large and handsome city and contains several striking buildings. It is paved with lava and contains a great variety of fountains. There is some appearance of commerce and industry in this town and there are several _maisons de plaisance_ in the neighbourhood. From Viterbo, thro' Monterosi, to Ronciglione the road lies over a mountain of steep ascent; here and there are patches of forest. There is not a house to be seen on this route and from there being a good deal of wood, and no appearance of cultivation, one fancies oneself rather in the wilds of a new country like America, than in so old a one as Italy.

Ronciglione is an old rubbishing town half in ruins and contains no one thing remarkable.

The next morning at four o'clock we started from Ronciglione and reached Baccano to breakfast.

Baccano contains only two buildings; but they are both very large and roomy; the one is the inn, and the other serves as a barrack for the Military. There is always a strong military detachment here for the security of the road against robbers, who occasionally infest this neighbourhood. The inn is of immense size. Travellers, who arrive here late, would do well to halt here the whole night, as not only the road is dangerous on account of robbers, but because if they arrive at Rome after five o'clock p.m., they cannot release their baggage and carriage from the Custom house till next day. Every carriage public or private that arrives in Rome is bound, unless a special permission to the contrary be obtained from the Government, to drive direct to the Custom house (_Dogana_). In the like manner, on travelling from Rome to Florence, people generally prefer to start from Rome at twelve o'clock and bring to the night at Baccano, so as to avoid the bad inn at Ronciglione and sleep in preference at Viterbo. I here speak only of those who travel by short stages as the _vetturini_ do.

Ariosto has given a celebrity to this wretched place Baccano in his poem of the _Orlando Furioso_, in the story of Giocondo in the 28th Canto, as being the identical place where Fausto, the brother of Giocondo, remained to await the return of his brother from Rome, to which place he had gone back, when half way between Baccano and Rome, to fetch the _monile_ which he had left behind him, and found his wife not _alone_ and _dying with grief_ as he apprehended, but _sotto la coltre_ with a servant of the family.

The country between Baccano and Rome is as unpleasing and even worse than that between the former place and Ronciglione. It is hilly, but not a tree, nor a house, nor a sign of cultivation to be seen except the two or three wretched hovels at La Storta. There is nothing at all that announces the approach to a capital city; and in addition to the dismal landscape there is a sight still more dismal that salutes the eye of the traveller at intervals of two or three miles and which does not tend to inspire pleasing ideas; and this is the sight of arms and legs of malefactors and murderers suspended on large poles on the road side; for it is the custom here to cut off the arms and legs of murderers after decapitation, and to suspend them _in terrorem_ on poles, erected on the very spot where they committed the murder. The sight of these limbs dangling in the wind is not a very comfortable one towards the close of the evening.

We left the _Sepolero di Nerone_, an ancient tomb so called, on the right of our road and half a mile beyond it crossed the Tiber at the _Ponte Molle (Pons Milvius)_, where there is a gate, bridge and military post. From this post to the _Porta del Popolo_, the entrance into the city for those coming from the North, the distance is one mile; there is a white wall on each side of the road the whole way, and some farm houses and villas. Near the _Ponte Molle_ is the field of battle where Maxentius was defeated by Constantine.

We entered the _Porta del Popolo_, crossed the _Piazza_ of the same name, where three streets present themselves to view. In the centre is the street called the _Corso_, running in a direct line from the _Porta_ across the _Piazza_. We drove along the _Corso_ till we arrived at a _Piazza_ on our right hand, which _Piazza_ is called _della Colonna_ from the Column of Antoninus, which stands on it. We then crossed the _Piazza_ which is very large and soon reached the _Dogana_ or Custom house, formerly the temple of Antoninus Pius, where vile modern walls are built to fill up the intervals between eleven columns of Grecian marble. Here our baggage underwent a rigorous research; this rigour is not so much directed against the fraudulent introduction of contraband or duty-bearing merchandise, as against _books_, which undergo a severe scrutiny. Against Voltaire and Rousseau implacable war is waged, and their works are immediately confiscated. Other authors too are sometimes examined, to see whether they contain anything against Mother Church. As the people employed in inspecting books are not much versed in any litterature or language but their own, except perhaps a little French, it is not easy for them to find out the contents of books in other languages. I had Schiller's works with me, a volume of which one of the _douaniers_ took up and looked at; on seeing the Gothic letter he seemed as much astonished as if he had got hold of a book of _Cabbala_ or _Magic_. He detained the whole work, but it was sent to me the next day, on my declaring that there was nothing damnable or heretical in it; for there was no person belonging to the department who could read German. When the _douaniers_ proceeded to the examination of the books belonging to one of my fellow travellers, the Neapolitan lady, she expressed great repugnance to the procedure; the _douaniers_ however insisted and, behold! there were several _livres galants_ with plates somewhat _lubriques_, the discovery of which excited blushes on her part and considerable laughter on the part of the byestanders. These books, however, not being contraband, were immediately returned to her, as was an edition of Baffo, belonging to my other fellow traveller, returned to him. Now this Baffo was a Venetian poet and his works are the most profligate that ever were penned or imagined by mortal man. Martial and Petronius Arbiter must hide their diminished heads before Baffo. The owner of this book chose to read out loud, quite unsolicited, several _choice_ sonnets of this poet for our edification during the journey; and this branch of litterature seemed to be the only one with which he was acquainted.

When the examination was over I took leave of my fellow travellers, and repaired to the _German Hôtel_ in the _Via de' Condotti_, where I engaged an apartment, and sat down to dinner at an excellent _table d'hôte_ at five o'clock. There was a profusion of everything, particularly of fish and game. Mullets and wild boar are constant dishes at a Roman table. The mullets at Rome are small but delicious, and this was a fish highly prized by the ancient Romans. Game of all kinds is very cheap here, from the abundance of it that is to be met with in wild uninhabited wastes of Latium and in the Pontine marshes. Every peasant is a sportsman and goes constantly armed with fire-arms, not only to kill game, but to defend himself against robbers, who infest the environs of Rome, and who sometimes carry their audacity so far as to push their _reconnaissances_ close to the very walls of the city. At the _German Hôtel_ the price of the dinner at _table d'hôte_, including wine at discretion, is six _paoli_, about three franks. I pay for an excellent room about three _paoli_ per diem and my breakfast at a neighbouring _Caffé_ costs me one _paolo_. A _paolo_ is worth about five pence English. There are ten _paoli_ to a _scudo Romano_ and ten _bafocchi_ to a _paolo_, The _bafocco_ is a copper coin.

ROME, 12th Sept.

A great number of Germans dine at the _table d'hôte_ of Franz's hotel. Among them I distinguished one day a very intelligent Bavarian Jew. I proposed to him a walk to the Coliseum the following morning, as independent of the benefit I derived from his conversation I was curious to see whether it was true or not that the Jews always avoided walking under the Arch of Titus, which was erected in commemoration of the capture of Jerusalem by the Romans under Titus, in the reign of Vespasian. On stepping out of the _Hôtel Allemand_, the first thing that met my eye was the identical beggar described by Kotzebue in his travels in Italy, and he gives the very same answer now as then to those who give him nothing, viz., _Pazienza_.

We crossed the _Piazza di Spagna_, ascended the superb flight of steps of the _Trinità de' Monti_, where there is a French church called the Church of St Louis: near it is the _Villa Medici_, which is the seat of the French Academy of the fine arts at Rome. We then filed along the _Strada Felice_ till we arrived at the church of _Santa Maria maggiore_, a superb edifice, the third church in Rome in celebrity, and the second in magnificence. An immense Egyptian Obelisk stands before it. We then, turning a little to the right, made the best of our way to the Coliseum where we remained nearly two hours. I had figured to myself the grandest ideas of this stupendous building, but the aspect of it far exceeded the sketch even of my imagination. In Egypt I have seen the Pyramids, but even these vast masses did not make such an impression on me as the Coliseum has done. I am so unequal to the task of description that I shall not attempt it; I will give you however its dimensions which my friend the Jew measured. It is an ellipse of which the transverse axis is 580 feet in length and its conjugate diameter 480; but it is not so much the length and breadth as the solidity of this building that strikes the traveller with astonishment. The arcaded passage or gallery (on the _rez de chaussée_ between the interior and the exterior wall), which has a vaulted roof over which the seats are built, is broad enough to admit three carriages abreast: and the walls on each side of this gallery are at least twenty feet thick. What a magnificent spectacle it must have been in the time of the ancient Romans, when it was ornamented, gilded, and full of spectators, of which it could contain, it is said, 86,000! The Coliseum has been despoiled by various Popes and Cardinals to furnish stone and marble to build their palaces; otherwise, so solid is the building, Time alone would never suffice to destroy it. At present strict orders are given and sentries are posted to prevent all further dilapidations, and buttresses have been made to prop up those parts which had given way. What a pity it is that the Arena has not been left empty, instead of being fitted up with tawdry niches and images representing the different stations of the Crucifixion! In the centre is an immense Cross, which whoever kisses is entitled to one hundred days indulgence. To what reflections the sight of this vast edifice leads! What combats of gladiators and wild beasts! What blood has been spilled! Was it not here that the tyrannical and cowardly Domitian ordered Ulpius Glabrio, of consular dignity, to descend into the arena and fight with a lion? The Christian writers mention that many of their sect suffered martyrdom here by being compelled to fight with wild beasts; but even this was not half so bad as the conduct of the Christians, when they obtained possession of political power and dominion, in burning alive poor Jews, Moors and heretics some centuries afterwards. Indeed the cruelty of the Pagans was much exaggerated by the above writers and were it even true to its full extent, their severity was far more excusable than that of the Christians in later times, for the efforts of the Christian sect in the times of Paganism were unceasingly directed towards the destruction of the whole fabric of polytheism, on which was based the entire, social and political order of the Empire; and they thus brought on themselves perhaps merited persecution, by their own intolerance; whereas, when they got the upper hand, they showed no mercy to those of a different religion, and Orthodoxy has wallowed successively in the blood of Arians, Jews, Moors and Protestants.

How many a poor Jew or Moor in Spain and Portugal has been burned alive for no other reason than

_Pour n'avoir point quitté la foi de leurs ancêtres._

No, no; no sect or religion was ever so persecuting as the Catholic Christians! The Polytheists of all times, both ancient and modern, were tolerant to all religions and so far from striving to make proselytes, often adopted the ceremonies of other worships in addition to their own; witness the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans of old, and the Hindoos and Chinese of the present day. The Jews, ferocious and prejudiced as they were, never persecuted other nations on the ground of religion, and if they held these nations in abhorrence as idolaters, and considered themselves alone as the holy people, the people of God (Yahoudi), they never dreamed of making converts. The Mussulmans tho' they hold it as a sacred precept of their religion to endeavour to make converts to Islam, do not use violent means and only compel those of a different faith to pay a higher tribute. At any rate, they never have or do put people to death merely for the difference of religious opinions. Such were the reflections I made on walking about the Arena of this colossal edifice so worthy of the _popolo Re_.

On leaving the Coliseum the first thing that meets the eye is the Arch of Constantine, under which the Roman triumphal and ovationary processions moved towards the Capitol. The Arch of Constantine stands just outside the Coliseum. It is of immense size and extremely well preserved. The ground on which it stands being much filled up and only half of the Arch appearing, the rest remaining buried in the earth, it was judged adviseable to excavate all around it in order to come to the pedestal; so that now there is a walled enclosure all around it and into this enclosure it is a descent of at least eighteen feet from the ground outside. Several statues of captive Kings and bas-reliefs representing the victories of Constantine adorn the facade of this triumphal arch. The inscriptions are perfect, and the letters were formerly filled up with bronze; but these have been taken out at the repeated sackings that poor Rome has undergone from friend and foe. At a short distance from the Arch of Constantine is the Arch of Titus, under which we moved along on our road towards the Capitol and my friend the Jew was too much of a cosmopolite to feel the smallest repugnance at walking under the Arch. Our conversation then turned on the absurd hatred and prejudice that existed between Christians and Jews; he was very liberal on this subject and in speaking of Jesus Christ he said: "Jesus Christ was a Jew and a real philosopher and was therefore persecuted, for his philosophy interfered too much with, and tended to shake the political fabric of the Jewish constitution and to subvert our old customs and usages: for this reason he was put to death. I seek not to defend or palliate the injustice of the act or the barbarity with which he was treated; but our nation did surely no more than any other nation ancient or modern has done or would still do against reformers and innovators."

The Arch of Titus is completely defaced outside, but in the interior of the Arch, on each side, is a bas relief: the one representing Vespasian's triumph over the Jews, and the Emperor himself in a car drawn by six horses; the other represents the soldiers and followers of the triumph, bearing the spoils of the conquered nation, and among them the famous candlesticks that adorned the temple of Jerusalem are very conspicuous. These figures are in tolerable preservation, only that the Emperor has lost his head and one of the soldiers has absconded.

On issuing from the Arch of Titus we found ourselves in the Forum, now the _Campo Vaccino_: so that cattle now low where statesmen and orators harangued, and lazy priests in procession tread on the sacred dust of heroes.

Où des prêtres heureux foulent d'un pied tranquille
Les tombeaux des Catons et les cendres d'Emile.

So sings Voltaire, I believe, or if they are not his lines, they are the Abbé Delille's.[84]

The imagination is quite bewildered here from the variety of ancient monuments that meet the eye in every direction. What vast souvenirs crowd all at once on the mind! Look all around! the _Via Sacra_, the Arch of Severus, and the Capitol in front; on one side of you, the temple of Peace, that of Faustina and that of the Sun and Moon: on the other the remaining three columns of the temple of Jupiter Stator; the three also of the temple of Jupiter Tonans; the eight columns of the temple of Concord; and the solitary column of Phocas. At a short distance the temple of Castor and Pollux and that of Romulus and Remus, which is a round building of great antiquity, whose rusticity forms a striking contrast with the elegance of the colonnaded temples, and which was evidently built before the conquest of Greece by the Romans and the consequent introduction of the fine arts and of the Grecian orders of architecture.

You may wish to know my sensations on traversing this sacred ground. The _Via Sacra_ recalled to me Horace meeting the _bavard_ who addresses him: _Quid agis, dulcissime rerum_?[85] I then thought of the Sabine rape; of Brutus' speech over the body of Lucretia; then I almost fancied I could see the spot where stood the butcher's shop, from whence Virginius snatched the knife to immolate his daughter at the shrine of Honor; next the shade of Regulus flitted before my imagination, refusing to be exchanged; then I figured to myself Cicero thundering against Catiline; or the same with delicate irony ridiculing the ultra-rigor of the Stoics, so as to force even the gravity of Cato to relax into a smile; then the grand, the heroic act of Marcus Brutus in immolating the great Caesar at the altar of liberty. All these recollections and ideas crowded on my imagination without regard to order or chronology, and I remained for some time in a state of the most profound reverie, from which I was only roused by my friend the Jew reminding me that we had a quantity of other things to see.

The first object that engaged my attention on being roused from my reverie, was the Arch of Severus at the foot of the Capitol which towers above it. Excavations have been made around this Arch (for otherwise only half of it could be seen) and a stone wall built around the excavated ground in the same manner as at the Arch of Constantine. Round several of the columns of the temples I have above enumerated, excavations have been also made; otherwise the lower half of them would remain buried in the earth and give to the monuments the appearance of a city which had been half swallowed up by an earthquake. By dint of digging round the column of Phocas, the ancient paved road which led to the Capitol has been discovered and is now open to view. This ancient road is at least thirty feet below the surface of the present road and the ground about it. This shows how the ground must have been filled up by the destruction of buildings at the different sackings of Rome and the consequent accumulation of rubbish. The French when they were here began these excavations and the Duchess of Devonshire continues them.[86] It is useful in every way; it employs a number of poor people and may be the means of discovering some valuable remains of antiquity and objects of art. At any rate it is highly gratifying to have discovered the identical road to the Capitol on which so many Consuls, Dictators and Emperors moved in triumph, and so many captive Kings wept in chains.

We then ascended the steps that lead to the modern Capitol and mounted on the _Campanile_ of the same, from whence there is a superb panoramic view of Rome. On descending from the _Campanile_, we visited the Tarpeian rock, which is now of inconsiderable height, the ground about it and heaps of rubbish having filled up the abyss below. We then entered the court yard of the Capitol. The Capitol and building annexed to it form three sides of a rectangle, the centre or _corps de logis_ lying North and South, and the wings East and West, the whole inclosing a court yard open on the South side of the rectangle, from whence you descend into the street on the plain below, by a most magnificent escalier or flight of steps. Of the Capitol, the _corps de logis_ or central building to which the _Campanile_ belongs, is reserved for the occupation and habitation of the _Senator Romano_, a civil magistrate, corresponding something to the mayor in France or _Oberbürgermeister_ in the German towns, and who is chosen from among the nobility and nominated by the Pope. The wings contain the _Museum Capitolinum_ of painting and sculpture. There is a great deal to call forth the admiration of the traveller in the court yard of the Capitol. The most prominent object is the famous bronze equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which cannot fail to rivet the attention of the least enthusiastic spectator. I observed at each angle of the façade of the Capitol a colossal statue of a captive King in a Phrygian dress; but still more striking than these are the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux leading horses, which stand a little in front of the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, and nearer the _escalier_, the one on the right the other on the left. Two lions in basalt on each side of the _escalier_ are very striking objects, and the _escalier_ itself is the most superb thing of the kind perhaps in the world. This _escalier_ and the Marcus Aurelius, unique also in its kind, are both the workmanship of Michael Angelo.[87] We descended this _escalier_ and then fronted it to take a view of the Capitol from the bottom; but the statue of Marcus Aurelius is so prominent and so grand that it absorbed all my attention.

After dinner I walked a little in the gardens on the Pincian hill, and then visited some friends belonging to the French Academy of Painting and Sculpture, who were so good as to shew me their productions, and also a copy of the superb folio edition of Denon's work on Egypt which to me, who had been in that country, was highly gratifying. Oh! what a pity that the French could not keep that country! What a paradise they would have made of it! As it is (and to their credit be it said) they did more good for the country during three years only, than we have done for our possessions in India for fifty years.

ROME, 15th Septr.

The next morning, after an early breakfast, I repaired to the Pantheon, now called _Santa Maria della Rotonda_, and appropriated to the Catholic worship. It is easily recognizable by its rotundity and by the simple grandeur of its façade and portico. The bronze has been taken out of the letters of the inscription. This beautiful specimen of ancient architecture is situated in a small _piazza_ or square called _Piazza della Rotonda_, where a market of poultry, game, and vegetables is held. There are only now three or four steps on the _escalier_ to ascend, in order to enter into the portico; but as it is known that according to the descriptions of the Pantheon in ancient times there was an immense flight of steps to ascend, it is an additional proof how much the ground on which modern Rome stands has been filled up, and consequently it is evident that the greater part of this flight of steps remains still buried in the earth.

If I was so struck with the appearance of this interesting edifice outside, how much more so should I have been on seeing the inside, were not the niches, where formerly stood the statues of the Gods, filled with tawdry dolls representing the Virgin Mary and _he_ and _she_ saints. The columns and pilasters in the interior of this temple are beautiful, all of _jaune antique_ and one entire stone each. How much better would it have been to replace the statues of the _Dii Majorum Gentium_ which occupied the niches, by statues in marble of the Apostles, instead of the dolls dressed in tawdry colors, and the frippery gilding of the altars on which they stand, which disfigure this noble building. The Pantheon was built by Agrippa as the inscription shews. In the interior are sixteen columns of _jaune antique_. The bronze that formerly ornamented this temple was made use of to fabricate the baldachin of St Peter's. Of late years it has been the fashion to erect monuments affixed to the walls of the interior of the Pantheon to the memory of the great men and heroes of poetry, painting, sculpture and music who were natives of Italy, or for foreigners, celebrated for their excellence in those arts, who have died in Rome. Here are for instance, tablets to the memory of Metastasio, Rafael Mengs, Sacchini, Poussin, Winckelmann; the Phidias of modern days, the illustrious Canova, has recommended the placing in the Pantheon of the busts in marble of all the great men who have flourished in Italy, as the most appropriate ornament to this temple. He himself with a princely liberality has made a present to it of the busts of Dante, Petrarca, Ariosto, Tasso, Guarini, Alfieri, Michel Angelo, Rafaello, Metastasio and various other worthies. These busts are all the production either of Canova himself, or made by his pupils under his direction; they are not the least remarkable ornament of the place. In the centre of the _Piazza della Rotonda_ stands an obelisk brought from Egypt, which belonged to a temple sacred to Isis in that country.

I next repaired to the _Piazza di Navona_, a large and spacious square, where there is a superb fountain representing a vast rock with four colossal figures, one of which reclines at the foot of the rock, at each angle of the pedestal that supports it, and it is surmounted by an Obelisk which was brought from Egypt and was found in the gardens of Sallust. The four colossal figures represent the four river Gods of the four great rivers in Europe, Asia, Africa and America, viz., the Danube, the Ganges, the Nile, and the Plata. The statue of the Nile has his head half-concealed by a cloak, emblematical of the source of that river not being discovered. In the _Piazza_ are frequently held fairs, shews of wild beasts, theatrical exhibitions and sometimes combats of wild beasts.

I crossed the Tiber on my way to St Peter's at the _Ponte di Sant' Angelo_; directly on the other side of the river stands the castle of that name, an immense edifice formerly the _Moles Adriana_ or Mausoleum of the Emperor Adrian. It is of a circular form and is a remarkably striking object. From here there is a spacious street as broad as Portland place, which leads to the magnificent _Piazza_, where stands the Metropolitan Church of the Christian world, the pride of Christendom, the triumph of modern architecture, flanked on each side by a semi-circular colonnaded portico, which constitutes one of its greatest beauties and distinguishes it from all the other temples in the world. On the Piazza, considerably in front of this wonderful edifice and nearly in the centre, stands an immense Egyptian Obelisk, and at a short distance on each side of the Obelisk two magnificent fountains which spout water to a great height and which contribute greatly to the ornament of the _Piazza_.

Now you must not expect me to give you a description of this glorious temple. I never in my life possessed descriptive powers, even for objects of no great importance: how then could I attempt to delineate the innumerable beauties of this edifice? Yet, vast as it is, the proportions of the façade are so correct, that they, together with the semi-circular colonnaded portico, serve to diminish its apparent size and to render its mass less imposing, but perhaps more beautiful. On this account it appears at first sight of less size than the Church of St Paul's in London. The beauty of the architecture, viz., of the façade and of the colonnaded portico would require days to examine and admire. What shall I say then of the wonders of the interior, crowded and charged as it is with the finest pieces of sculpture, columns of the most beautiful _verd antique_ and of _jaune antique_; the masterpieces of painting copied in mosaic; the precious, stones and marbles of all sorts that adorn the variety of magnificent chapels and altars; the immense baldachin with its twisted columns of bronze (the spoils of the Pantheon and of the temple of Jerusalem); the profusion of gilding and ornament of all sorts and where in spite of this profusion there seems _rien de trop_. At first entrance the eye is so dazzled with the magnificent _tout ensemble_ as to be incapable for a long time of examining any thing in detail. Each chapel abounds in the choicest marbles and precious stones: in a word it would seem as if the whole wealth of the Earth were concentrated here. Without impiety or exaggeration, I felt on entering this majestic temple for the first time just as I conceive a resuscitated mortal would feel on being ushered into the scene of the glories of Heaven. The masterpieces of painting are here perpetuated in mosaic, and so correctly and beautifully done, that unless you approach exceedingly close indeed, it is impossible to distinguish them from paintings. What an useful as well as ornamental art is the mosaic! There are a great variety of confessionals where penitents and pilgrims may confess, each in his own tongue, for there is a confessional for the use of almost every native tongue and language in the Catholic world. The cupola! What an astonishing sight when you look up at it from below! How can I better describe it than by relating the anecdote of Michel Angelo its constructor, who when some one made a remark on the impossibility of making a finer Cupola than that of the Pantheon, burst out into the following exclamation: "Do you think so? Then I will throw it in the air," and he fulfilled his word; for the cupola of St Peter's is exactly of the size of that of the Pantheon, tho' at such an elevation as to give it only the appearance of one fourth of its real size, or even less. The sublimity of the design can only be equalled by the boldness and success of its execution. Till it was done, it was thought by every artist impossible to be done. What an extraordinary genius was this Michel Angelo! Ariosto has hot at all exaggerated in his praise when he speaks of him in punning on his name:

_Michel_ più che mortal, _Angel_ divino.[88]

Michael, less man than Angel and divine.

--Trans, W.S. ROSE.

Among the various splendid marble monuments with which this temple abounds is one erected to the memory of Pope Rezzonico, constructed by Canova and reckoned one of his masterpieces. The Pope is represented in his canonicals. Behind and above him is a colossal statue of Religion with a cross in one hand and rays in form of spikes issuing from her head. I do not like these spikes. On the dexter side of this monument, is a beautiful male youthful figure representing a funereal genius with an inverted torch. The signal delicacy, beauty and symmetry of this statue forms a striking contrast with the figure of an immense lion sleeping on the sinister side; and this lion is an irrefragable proof that Canova excels in the delineation of the terrible as well as the beautiful, for it is admirably executed.

At another monument is a superb female figure of colossal size representing Truth. It was formerly naked, but they have contrived to execute in coloured marble a vestment to cover her loins and veil her secret beauties. The reason of which is, that this beautiful statue made such an impression once upon a traveller (some say he was an Englishman, others a Spaniard) that it inspired him with a sort of Pygmalionic passion which he attempted to gratify one night; he was discovered in the attempt, and since that time, to prevent further scandal or attempts of the sort and to conceal from profane eyes the charms of the too alluring Goddess, this colored marble vestment was imagined and executed. This story is borrowed from Lucian.[89]

There is also here a fine statue of Pope Gregory XIII and a magnificent bas-relief, the subject of which is the reform of the calendar by that Pope. Here too is a monument to Christina Queen of Sweden, and a bas-relief representing her abjuration of the Lutheran Faith.

But why should I attempt to detail all these monuments, while it would require folios for the purpose; let me rather introduce you to the hero and tutelary saint of this sanctuary. St Peter, a superb bronze statue something above the usual size of men, is seated on a curule chair in the nave of the church on the right hand side as you approach the baldachin. He holds in his hands the keys of Heaven. He receives the adoration of all the faithful who enter into this temple, and this adoration is performed by kissing his foot which, from the repeated kissings, is become of a bright polish and is visibly wearing away. The statue was formerly a statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, but on the grand revolution among the inhabitants of Olympus and the downfall of Jupiter, it was broken to pieces, melted down and fabricated into an image of St Peter, so that this statue has lost little of its former sovereignty and still rules Heaven and Earth if not with regal, with at least vice-regal power, tho' under a different name.

In the Sistine Chapel is the celebrated painting al fresco of the day of Judgment by Michel Angelo, an aweful subject and nobly and awefully executed.

In the porch under the façade of St Peter's are two marble statues on horseback, one at each end of the porch: they represent Constantine the Great and Charlemagne, the two great benefactors of the holy Catholic Church; the one, in fact, its founder, the other its preserver.

As the Palace of the Vatican stands close to the Church of St Peter's and communicates with it by an _escalier_, I ascended the _escalier_ in order to behold and examine the famous Museum of the Vatican, the first in the world, and unique for the vast treasures of the fine arts that it contains; treasures which the united wealth of all Europe and India to boot could not purchase at their just price. Here in fact it may be said are preserved the riches and plunder of the whole world, which was stripped of all its valuables by those illustrious brigands the ancient Romans. And mark in this point the good fortune of Rome; instead of losing them again as other nations have lost their trophies, Superstition came to her aid and caused them to be respected and preserved, 'till an enlightened age arose which guided by Philosophy, Humanity and Science will for ever preserve them secure against all attacks of barbarians in a sanctuary so worthy of them.

_Museum Vaticanum_[90]

A superb flight of steps leads into a hall of immense length filled on each side with statues, busts, sarcophagi, altars, urns, vases and candelabra, all monuments of antiquity and of the most exquisite workmanship. The walls on each side of this hall are inlaid with tablets bearing inscriptions in Greek, Latin and Etruscan. One is quite bewildered amongst such a profusion of Gods, Semi-Gods, Heroes. I must single out a few of the most remarkable for their workmanship. Here is a group representing the sacrifice of Mithras. On ascending a few steps at the other end of this hall, in a small octangular room, are the statue of Meleager; the famous Torso; the tomb of Scipio with bas-reliefs. On leaving the chamber you come into an octangular gallery, issuing from which are four circular chambers; each chamber contains a masterpiece of art. In one is the Apollo Belvedere, in another the Laocoon (both safely arrived from Paris); in the third Antinous; in the fourth the Perseus of Canova, with Medusa's head and his famous group of the two pugilists. Descriptions of the three first would be superfluous-- for of them

Mills altri han detto e con via miglior plettro,

and even with respect to the Perseus of Canova, I shall content myself with remarking that the sculptor had evidently the Apollo Belvedere in his ideal, and if he has not quite equalled that celebrated statue, it is because it is impossible; but he certainly has given the nearest possible approximation to its excellence.

In another hall and just at its entrance are the statues of Menander and Posidippus in a sitting posture, one on either side. In this hall are innumerable fine statues, but the further end of it, fronting you as you enter, is a statue which at once engages and rivets your undivided attention; it at once induces you to approach and to take no notice of the statues on the right and left of the hall. And how should it be otherwise, since it is the identical statue of the father of the Gods and men, the famous Jupiter Capitolinus which adorned the Capitol in ancient Rome. He is sitting on a throne with a sceptre in one hand and the thunderbolts in the other, at his feet an eagle. It is a glorious statue and in every respect characteristic; such grandeur, such majesty in the countenance! It is impossible not to feel awe and reverence on beholding it. It was on contemplating this venerable statue that an Englishman who was at Rome some sixty years ago, stood wrapt for a time in silent veneration; then suddenly breaking silence he made a profound obeisance before the statue and exclaimed: "Recollect, O father of the Gods and men, that I have paid my hommage to you in your adversity and do not forget me, should you ever raise your head above water again!"

In the hall of the Muses are the statues of the tuneful Nine which were found underground among the ruins of Hadrian's villa at Tivoli.

In the centre of a circular chamber of vast dimensions, is an enormous circular basin of porphyry, of forty-one feet in diameter. A superb mosaic adorns the floor of the centre of this chamber, and is inclosed. Appropriate ornaments to this immense chamber are the colossal statues of the _Dii majorum Gentium_. Here are Juno, Minerva, Cybele, Jupiter, Serapis, Mars, Ceres, and others.

In another hall are two enormous Egyptian Gods in yellow granite; two superb sarcophagi in red marble and two immense Sphinxes in granite. In another chamber is an antique car drawn by two horses: the near one is modern, the off one ancient. The wheels of this car are modern; both car and horses are of exquisite workmanship. Several fine statues adorn this chamber, among which the most remarkable are a Phocion, a Paris, an Antinous, and a Triton carrying off a Nereid.

I must not omit to mention that in one of the halls is the famous group of the Nile, represented by an enormous colossal River God, surrounded by fourteen children playing with young crocodiles. Opposite to this group is another equally celebrated, viz., the colossal statue of the Tiber, with the she-wolf giving suck to Romulus and Remus by his side. The mosaic pavements in this Museum surpass in richness any in the world. In one of the halls, among the works of modern times, are two beautiful marble tables richly inlaid with all sorts of stones of value, with bas-reliefs on them; the one representing the visit of the Emperor Joseph II, and the other that of Gustavus III of Sweden to Rome, and their reception by the Pope.

One of the halls of sculpture is appropriated to the figures of animals of all kinds, from the lion and eagle down to the rat and crawfish in marbles of all colors, and of all sizes; the best executed among them appeared to me a group representing a greyhound bitch giving suck to her young. As for the valuable cameos, coins, medals, and smaller remnants of antiquity in this Museum, they are innumerable.

With regard to the paintings that belong to this Museum, there is only a small, collection but it is unique. Here is the Transfiguration and some other masterpieces of Rafaello.

In the _Stanze di Rafaello_ (so they are called) are several large fresco paintings, viz., one representing the battle of Maxentius and Constantine; another, the school of Athens and Socrates sitting among the other philosophers; a third representing a fire; besides others.

In one of these _stanze_ is a work in tapestry representing Jesus Christ bursting forth from the sepulchre, but he has a visage far too rubicund and wanting in dignity; he looks like a person flushed with wine issuing from a tavern; in the countenance there is depicted (so it appears to me) a vulgar, not a dignified triumph.