Chapter XIV: Front Matter (14)

To review a new volume of travels in Italy, may seem to many readers an unprofitable task. Since its shores were first hailed by the faithful Achates, it has been the goal of travellers and the theme of authors. Every age has sent its children to visit that favoured soil; and the barbarians who rudely invaded it from beyond its Alpine barriers, have been followed by successive generations of men, less rude indeed from the progress of time, but not less ardent to explore and overrun it. Peace and war have alike urged them on. Its mountains, its valleys, its defiles, its broad and sunny plains, have resounded for hundreds of years with the clash of arms, and glittered with innumerable warriors; bands scarcely less numerous have penetrated every corner, led by spirits inquisitive for knowledge or fond of dwelling on beauties of nature, perhaps unrivalled, and on the certain charms of refined and exquisite art, with which no other land, however favoured, has yet dared to offer a comparison. Nor is there wanting the ample, the reiterated record of all this. Historians, and poets, and antiquarians, and novelists, and travellers, have made familiar every incident of every age--every allusion that can give fresh and delightful associations to every spot. What ruin is there that they have not made eloquent? What mountain, what grove, can eager curiosity, urged on by the enthusiasm of taste and genius, discover, which is not already hallowed--that has not "murmured forth a solemn sound."

Yet, still, we read over the oft-repeated tale; we can bear to hear again and again the history of Roman grandeur; we delight to trace the footsteps of warriors, of statesmen, of heroes, philosophers, and poets, whom we have learnt to regard rather as old friends, as household deities, as companions who have enchanted our youth, and beguiled our later years,--who have given us at once rules and lessons of human conduct, and pleasing visions to delight our fancies and our hearts, than as merely individuals in the great family of mankind. We can bear to dwell again and again on the graphic page which imparts to us the knowledge of those triumphant efforts of taste, of genius, and of art, whose charm time cannot injure, and which become to us the more dear, because they remain after centuries have passed away, with scarcely a single rival.

We were impressed with these feelings when we took up the unpretending volume before us; we can scarcely doubt, that they will be common to many at least of our readers, when they find our page headed with "_Notes on Italy_." To these sentiments will be justly added a favourable impression from the character of the writer, and the circumstances which have led to his tour and to the publication of the present volume.

As early as the year 1786, Charles Wilson Peale, the father of the author, and a gentleman whose name is well known as connected with the infant arts and sciences of America, was the first person to build an exhibition room in the city of Philadelphia. There he displayed to a public, perhaps but little prepared to appreciate them, the first collection of Italian paintings, and there his son acquired in his earliest youth, not only an enthusiastic admiration for the art itself, which he has since successfully cultivated, but an ardent desire to visit the region where he could behold the productions of artists whose genius he had learned to venerate.

Having commenced his studies as a painter under the direction of his father, he went to England, during the peace of 1802, with the design of visiting France and Italy. The renewal of hostilities, however, prevented this, and after availing himself for a short time of the benefits London offered, he returned home. In 1807, he again crossed the Atlantic; the disturbed situation of the continent obliged him to confine himself to France; but in the gallery of the Louvre he could admire, study, and emulate the noblest productions of the pencil and the chisel, collected by that wonderful man, who loved to blend in the triumphs of warlike ambition, the trophies dear to philanthropy, to science, and to art. Mr. Peale returned to his own country, not satisfied however, because Italy itself was yet unseen. It was in vain that an increasing patronage and attention to the fine arts in his own country offered him renewed reasons to remain there; he was as restless as before, and in 1810 we again find him in Paris, and again obliged, by the unsettled state of Europe, to forego his long cherished visit. He returned to his own country; but the fever that still burned as in the ardour of youth, was not allayed, and the idea that his dreams of Italy were never to be realized, seemed, as he tells us, to darken the cloud which hung over the prospect of death itself. For a number of years the duties required by a large family forbade his separation from them; but these at length permitted the gratification of his wishes, and patronised by the liberality of several gentlemen of New-York, at the age of fifty-one he was able to gratify a desire which had not failed to increase with his years. The narrative of his tour, which occupied nearly two years, is embraced in this volume. His main object was to examine the celebrated works of Italian art, and to select, for the employment of his pencil, some of the most excellent pictures of the great masters which are preserved in Rome and Florence; the copies of these carefully made cannot fail to advance, among the artists and amateurs of his own country, a correct knowledge of the fine arts.

With his thoughts and his pursuits directed chiefly to this object, we find in the volume before us, no pretension and little attention to antiquarian research, or classical allusion, which have been so generally called forth by the mouldering monuments, and the familiar scenes connected with the history and poetry of earlier days. Neither do we meet with the elaborate reflections on the political or social state of Italy, in the present day. It is true, the remarks of Mr. Peale are not confined to works of art, for he could not shut his eyes to the scenes among which he had to pass, and he was not uninfluenced by a general curiosity and love of truth;--but they are the notes of a transient observer, whose mind was turned to other things. Yet they are found not unfrequently to convey lively impressions of the state of society and manners, and of the local peculiarities of Italy.

Having sailed from New-York, Mr. Peale arrived at Paris, in the month of December, 1828. After a short stay there, merely sufficient to glance over the principal works of art, and to regret the altered situation of the magnificent gallery of Napoleon, deprived of the matchless memorials of his conquests, he continued his journey towards the south of France. Passing through Lyons, the route continued a long way on the border of the rapid Rhone, upon which he saw but one vessel,--whilst the road presented a constant procession of wagons. Such a stream in America, between two great cities, would be covered with steam-boats. As the road advanced south, it passed through more abundant vineyards, the verdure of the fields became more extensive, and, on each side, were seen vast orchards of mulberry trees, for the support of silk-worms, tributary to the great manufactories of silk at Lyons. As he approached Marseilles, the milder atmosphere gave evidence of a more genial climate, and the altered costume of the women, of a different people--to the caps common after leaving Paris, was now added a piece of black silk, of the size and shape of a plate laid on the top of the head; and, in the immediate vicinity of the town, the women wore black hats, with small round crowns and broad rims. Marseilles is a large and bustling sea-port, with but little to detain those who are in search of the productions of Italian art. Instead of pursuing the route he had intended, by Aix and Genoa, Mr. Peale here embarked in a Neapolitan ship, and, after a stormy and uncomfortable passage of ten days, found himself in the magnificent Bay of Naples. Four weeks were devoted to an examination of the works of art in the various galleries, palaces, and churches;--and most of the curiosities, the objects which attract an inquisitive traveller, were examined. Among the latter may be mentioned the catacombs of _Santa Maria della Vita_, which are thus described:--

"Descending into the valley of houses, and then rising to
the foot of a neighbouring hill, we entered the court yard
of a vast hospital for the poor; an establishment made by
the French, in which are men, women, and girls, each class
being kept separate and made to work. Here an old man
presented himself who officiated as an experienced guide,
furnished with a lantern and great flambeau made of ropes
impregnated with some kind of resin. A little back lane
conducted us to a kind of grotto, containing an altar
ornamented with several marble medallions, which are said to
have been sculptured by the early Christians. This chapel
served as an entrance to the chambers of the dead, which
consist of long, winding, and intricate passages, cut out of
the _tufa_ rock; in procuring which, for the purposes of
building, these vast subterranean excavations were
originally made, and afterwards used as depositories of the
dead. During the persecutions against the early Christians,
they were occupied by them either secretly as places of
residence, where they might practise their worship
unmolested, or, by the permission of their pagan
persecutors, as abodes of the most humiliating kind,
secluded from the light of day. Here our guide, preceding us
with his smoking torch, which he occasionally struck on the
walls, so as to scatter off a radiating flood of sparks
which left him a brighter flame, showed us the little
lateral recesses in which the humble believers were
contented to lie, and shelves, excavated in the rock, in
which their mortal remains were deposited after death. He
pointed out the larger chambers, somewhat decorated with
columns and arches in faint relief, in which the priests
resided; the places where altars stood; and, in a higher
excavation, raised his torch to a rude recess, or sunken
balcony above the arched passage, whence the word was
preached to the faithful below in a hall of great width. The
chambers occupied by the most distinguished characters were
denoted by better sculpture, Mosaic incrustations, and
fresco paintings. We followed the windings of these
subterranean corridors to a great extent, till we reached a
hall which was said to be a quarter of a mile in height; but
whether contrived for the purpose of ventilation, or as a
shaft for raising the stone, we could not ascertain, any
more than we could the accuracy of our guide's information,
that the bodies of hundreds of martyrs were thrown down
there by their pagan murderers, whence they were conveyed by
their surviving friends into the niches prepared for them.
From these remote parts, passages, now closed, were formerly
open, which communicated with other catacombs and villages
for sixteen miles round, affording the inmates, it is said,
the means of escaping the persecutions which, from time to
time, fell upon a sect so obnoxious to the pagan priesthood.

"We found the bones in these catacombs in excellent
preservation, and on many the flesh of fifteen hundred years
was still of such tenacious though pliant fibre, that it
required a sharp knife to cut off a piece. The guide showed
us the heads of some of those early Christians, with the
tongues still remaining in them, but would not permit us to
take one away. Here lived the venerated St. Januarius, whose
particular cell was pointed out to us; and to these retreats
was his dead body borne after his martyrdom; though some
ancient painters represent him walking back with his head in
his hands.

"We then visited the church of _Santa Maria della Vita_; it
is an old and curious edifice, rich in marbles, and
remarkable for the style of the grand altar, which is
constructed over another one, as on a bridge, to which you
rise by two lateral flights of steps, ornamented with
elegant balustrades of costly marbles. The old monk showed
us, behind the altar, an ancient painting of the Madonna,
resembling an Indian, and a precious door to a case
containing some sacred relic; but as we did not seem
interested in these, he proceeded to open a door in the side
wall, and requested us to walk in. To our surprise it was
the entrance to another series of catacombs, in which were
deposited the dead within the last two hundred years. These
were placed in perpendicular niches in the rock, and
plastered up, leaving only a part of the head projecting;
the men with their faces out, the women with their faces in,
only exposing the backs of their heads, from which the hair
had long since fallen. By scraping away the plaster, some of
the skeletons appeared in their whole extent, among which
was an extraordinary one of a man about eight feet tall. The
plaster which covers these bodies, thus showing only one
half of the head, was painted so as to imitate the entire
figure, clothed as men or women, and sometimes representing
them as skeletons in part covered with drapery, with various
inscriptions above them. The deeper recesses of these vaults
led to chambers where we saw two carcasses of men, deposited
only six months since; the flesh not decaying, but gradually
drying up. They were naked and seated in niches in the wall,
with their heads and arms hanging forward in very grotesque
postures. In the catacombs which we first visited, the dead
were generally placed horizontally, whereas here, all that
we now saw were standing erect. We entered some chambers,
however, with numerous empty horizontal recesses."

All the spots around Naples, of particular interest, as Vesuvius, Posilippo, and Portici were visited; crowds of beggars were encountered in all directions; but the people in general appeared to be healthy, lively, and happy. The streets are made gay by the immense number of carriages with which the public are accommodated at a very cheap rate, and people of all ranks are seen splashing along, sometimes to the number of seven or eight, clinging, as well as they can, to a vehicle scarcely large enough to hold half the number. The Neapolitans speak with great gesticulation, using many signs which have a known meaning; and they may sometimes be seen thus conversing across the street, from the upper stories of opposite houses. They are, of course, great eaters of macaroni, which is seen dangling from the shops in all parts of the city; and nothing is more amusing than the humble purchasers gathered around the stalls, stretching their necks with open mouths to suck it in.

Having seen as much of Naples as a long succession of bad weather permitted, our travellers set out in a vetturino for Rome, under the guidance of a snug, young, leather-breeched postilion, who spoke nothing but broad Italian. Crossing the Pontine marshes, where, it is probable, the wintry season prevented the frogs and musquitoes from recalling to their recollection the sufferings of Horace, they first looked down from the heights of Albano on the dome of St. Peter's, glittering in the bright rays of the sun, which just then broke through the clouds. On the last day of January, Mr. Peale found himself comfortably placed in a hotel of the Piazza di Spagna, ready to explore all that the eternal city could offer to his curious research. He remained at Rome till the month of July following.

His earliest visit was to St. Peter's, which he has minutely and graphically depicted. His first sensation he describes as one of surprise at the brightness and elegance of the whole interior, and in part of disappointment at the apparent want of magnitude. This was probably occasioned by the colossal statues, which, being proportioned to the vast pilasters, arches, and columns, seem to reduce the whole to an ordinary scale; and also to the wonderful harmony of all the parts, which prevents the contrast necessary to fill the mind with a sense of a gigantic object. When he had, however, walked over the wide fields of pavement, and compared the human beings before him with the stupendous masses around, he became by degrees convinced of the mighty magnitude, and experienced increased emotions of wonder and delight.

His visit to St. Peter's was followed by a minute survey of all the principal churches, galleries, antique monuments, and ruins, with which Rome abounds, among them, and in the study of the works of the great masters of art, he found five months pass rapidly away.

The houses of modern Rome generally present a good appearance, from the circumstance, that, although built of brick, they are, with few exceptions, plastered with great skill and dexterity to resemble stone, outside and inside. The puzzolana earth forms an admirable cement, and even when placed on the tops of houses it forms a terrace impenetrable by water. The streets are kept rather clean by the employment of convicts, but there is always abundance of dirt around the dwellings of the poor, who inhabit the ground floors, which are used not only for the residence of poverty and wretchedness, but for stables, and shops of every kind. The men, women, and children, however, in these unpromising abodes, are fat, dirty, and merry, and present no appearance of being victims of malaria or despotism. The streets, except the Corso, are seldom straight; but in the evenings they are filled with people, the rich taking a fashionable drive, with the utmost seriousness and silence, the poor lying and sitting on the ground, eating a piece of bread, or a fresh head of lettuce, in general, silent and serious like their betters, but occasionally bursting into roars of laughter, and expressing their hilarity by loudly clapping their hands.

"As the warm weather advances, every kind of workman who can
get out his little bench, apparatus or chair, is at work in
the street close up to his house. I have counted nine
shoemakers, with their stalls, in front of one house, for
the purpose of enjoying light and air. Benches and chairs
are likewise occupied by the idle, chiefly old gentlemen, in
front of the coffee-houses, especially in the Corso, where
they are amused by the continual movement of carriages and
pedestrians. In the evening, especially on holidays, tables
are spread out with white cloths, and brilliantly
illuminated and decorated with flowers, containing various
articles of food, whilst a cook is busy on one side with his
portable kitchen, cooking dough-nuts, or other articles,
which are eaten on the spot.

"The English and French style of dress, both among men and
women, prevails not only in the higher classes, but through
all others, and in every part of the city. Huge Parisian
bonnets, full set with broad ribands, are seen in every
street; contrasting widely with the fashion of the country,
which covers the head with a white linen cloth, folded
square, and either hanging loose, or kept flat by sticks
within them, or long pins like skewers, which bind up the
hair. Long waists and stays are universal--the rich wear the
fashionable corset of France--the poor, the stays of the
country, thick set with bone, covered with gay velvet, and
worn outside of their gowns, when they have any on, and tied
at the top and back of the shoulders with long bunches of
gay ribands. An apron, skirted with many coloured bands,
hangs in front of a short petticoat with similar bands, and
the shoes have great silver buckles. The taste for large ear
and finger rings is universal, and heavy rolls of beads
encircle almost every neck--the dark red coral being
calculated, by its contrast, to improve their brown Italian
complexion.

"The peasants, as they appear in town, differ from these, in
wearing coarse pointed wool hats, decorated with ribands or
flowers; wretched, old, ragged, or patched clothes; breeches
without buttons or strings at the knees; sandals which they
make out of raw hide, turning up a little above the sole,
and with strong cords bound to their feet, the cord passing
around their legs and up to their knees, encircling coarse
linen or rags, which they wear instead of stockings. On
Sundays and holidays, certain streets, as the _Repetti_, are
the rendezvous of labouring men, who are then a little, but
very little, better dressed than on other days; always
displaying their stout legs in coarse white stockings, their
knees still unbuttoned, and their shirt collars open even in
cool weather, and, if warm, their jacket across one
shoulder, one sleeve hanging in front--the other behind, and
shifted to the other shoulder, should their exposure to the
wind or current of air require it. I have often stopped to
notice these groups, and have been surprised to find them
generally silent, but with an expression of content.
Occasionally, when a joke would circulate, it was managed
with the fewest words. It is only when much excited, that a
Roman displays any volubility of tongue or extravagance of
gesticulation to disturb his usual air of dignity--whether
above or below contempt--whether with much thought or with
no thought at all.

"The Romans are certainly a sober people, but the lower
classes, though they are not afflicted by Irish, Scotch, or
American whiskey, Holland gin, or English porter, yet often
indulge to excess in the cheap wine of the country. Every
body drinks wine, and to offer water to a beggar would be an
insult. It is only used occasionally with lemons in hot
weather. At a late hour in the evening, in many streets, may
be heard the noise of Bacchanalian merriment proceeding from
some deep cavernous chamber, which, seen by lamp-light,
shows nothing but coarse plastered walls, a greasy brick
pavement, and benches and tables, around which, in the
absence of all other comforts, the most miserable enjoy
their principal, or only meal of the day, and freely
circulate the bottle as a social bond. Besides, on holidays,
the wine shops are frequented by groups of men and women,
who sometimes exhibit around the door a noisy and licentious
crowd. But wine is not always deemed sufficient, and those
who are disposed to take a walk about sunrise, may every day
see persons with little baskets of _aqua vitae_, which is
swallowed by artificers between their beds and their
workshops."

During Mr. Peale's stay at Rome, the election of the pope afforded him an opportunity of witnessing the many gorgeous and striking ceremonies, which attend the elevation of the spiritual father of the church to his temporal throne. These he has described minutely, but with little variation from the accounts given by those who have been at Rome on previous and similar occasions. He speaks of the sudden illumination of the vast dome of St. Peter's, as a sight of singular magnificence; in an instant the whole edifice appeared to throw out flowers of flame, and then, a few moments after, a new succession of lights, still more vivid, by their superior brightness, rendered the first nearly invisible.

From Rome, Mr. Peale went to Tivoli, and spent some days among the lovely scenery of that spot, familiar to every one who has not forgotten the exquisite praises Horace has bestowed on it. He saw and admired the remnants of the temple of the Sibyl, which Claude Lorraine has so often selected to add to the harmony and beauty of his inimitable landscapes; and amid the importunities of beggars, who infest a traveller in Italy in every haunt to which the love of antiquity or of scenery can lead him, and beneath the spray of the cataract--the _polvere del'acqua_, as it was called by the natives--he sketched a drawing of a spot which poets and painters have alike loved to select in ancient and modern days.

On entering Tuscany, he was pleased to find no longer the rags and patches of Naples and Rome, but a peasantry, better clad, and more industrious; the country was in a fine state of cultivation, and the habitations were neat and commodious. It was the season of harvest, and the fields abounded with men and women in nearly equal numbers, and apparently happy as they were cheerful.

At Florence, where Mr. Peale arrived on the 7th of July, he remained until the 22d of April following, thus devoting to that fair seat of the arts more than eight months. His time was zealously employed in the pursuit of his favourite studies; and he made, in the galleries so liberally opened to artists, copies of many of those works which have been considered as masterpieces at all times, which have been deemed the noblest of the spoils of conquest, and have become the guides of aspiring genius, and the test of taste, throughout the world.

The manners of the inhabitants are lively, but in general decorous; and whenever crowds are accidentally assembled, they disperse without tumult.

"In the public square it is common, once or twice a week, to
see a quack doctor, seated in his chaise or gig, haranguing
the crowd, with the most impassioned language and gestures:
at one corner of his carriage is a banner consisting of a
hideous portrait of an old monk, from whom he professes to
have learned his precious secrets in the healing art;
occasionally he displays a book of botanical engravings,
gaily coloured, to show his knowledge of nature and his
reliance on the bounty of Providence, invoking frequently
the name of the Blessed Virgin, and reverently taking off
his hat, in which he is imitated by the faithful around him.
At the end of his discourse he produces his medicines, which
are eagerly bought by the credulous.

"Occasionally, too, a dentist appears, on horseback, with an
attendant, likewise on horseback, who, in a similar manner,
but with an eloquence more voluble, and language more
refined, expatiates on his well known skill and experience;
and then, to suit his action to the word, proceeds to draw
the teeth gratuitously of any that may present themselves at
the left side of his horse, to the amount of five or six. It
is surprising with what dexterity he performs the act,
without moving from his saddle. Afterwards, if any one wants
the assistance of the accomplished dentist, he must be
sought at his lodgings."

The number of beggars, though great in itself, is small, when compared to that at Rome. Every place, too, is crowded with persons who pester you with knives, razors, and combs--linens, silks, and cloths--cravats, shawls, and rugs--alabaster carvings, and every thing that can be carried about by hand, which they persecute you to buy in spite of your no, no, which means nothing to them. Experienced Italians send off the dirty fellows with a "_caro mio_"--"no, my dear, I am not in want of it." The streets are kept remarkably clean, and the houses are generally substantial and well built, but less ornamented with stucco and sculpture, than those of Rome. The public edifices are remarkable rather for massive strength than architectural beauty, looking more like fortresses than palaces, and black with stone and time. There are numerous fountains scattered through the city; but, amidst the abundance of bronze and marble ornaments which they exhibit, the stream of water they pour out is extremely insignificant. The coffee-houses are well served, the favourite ices are made with clean ice taken from the streams, instead of the frozen and dirty snow collected in the mountains, which is used at Rome. In all public places of resort, are seen quantities of beautiful and fragrant flowers, the delight of the Florentines; and men are everywhere met who carry baskets of them, which are offered not only to the ladies, but are presented bunch after bunch, with the most persevering assiduity, to gentlemen who are sipping their coffee, eating their ice-creams, or reading the papers.

While Mr. Peale was in Florence, he had the good fortune to witness the powers of the most celebrated improvisatrice of the day, _Rosa Taddei_, of Naples. Her performances took place at the principal theatre, two or three times on each occasion, but with intervals of several days:--

"When the curtain rose, the scene was that of a parlour,
seated. On the entrance of Rosa Taddei, she was greeted with
loud applause by her old friends and confiding expectants.
She appeared to be about thirty years of age, and, though
small, her uncorsetted chest gave ample space for the
important action of her powerful lungs. She was dressed as a
private lady. Her pale face indicated a studious life, but
her forehead was low and narrow, though her head was broad;
her little sunken eye was quick in its movements, and when
it looked intently out, to fashion the measure of a thought,
was accompanied by a slight contraction of the brow that
banished all suspicion of coquetry. Her nose was small, and
her mouth would be called ordinary; but when it was about to
speak, it quivered delicately with the rising emotion, and
varied its expression according to the passion of her
discourse.

"A servant now advances to the front of the stage, holding a
little casket, destined to received the papers which are
handed from different parts of the house, containing
subjects proposed for recitation. When about forty of these
are received, the casket is placed on a side table. Without
reading them she folds and returns them to the casket. This
is an operation of some time, and serves to give the
appearance of business, and, perhaps, composure to the
performer. Advancing to the side boxes and orchestra, she
offers successively to different persons the casket, out of
which, each time, a paper is drawn and presented to her.
With a grave, deliberate, and emphatic voice she reads the
theme proposed. If the subject is hackneyed, dull, or unfit,
a lamentable and deep-toned ah! synonymous with our bah! is
heard from various parts of the house; on which she tears up
the paper with an impressive look, which seems to say--such
is your pleasure. When six or seven subjects are approved by
the cries of yes, yes, she places them on her side table,
selects one, and, advancing to the piano, decides upon a
musical harmony, which the professor immediately begins to
play, and continues delicately; during which she walks in
measured steps across the stage backwards and forwards,
looking earnestly down, occasionally pausing, sometimes
raising her hand to her mouth or forehead. The crowded house
is silent as death, and she is only influenced by the
measure of the music and the arrangement of her unseen
materials of thought. This being completed, she suddenly
advances, and begins with a burst of language, in which she
continues with unhesitating volubility and moderate action,
occasionally uttering some fine expression that draws forth
from experienced critics an approving bravo! It was to be
remarked, that as she advanced to the termination of every
line, couplet, or stanza, according to the compass of the
sentiment, there was a dwelling on the syllables and a
monotonous chanting, very much resembling the cadence of a
Quaker preacher; thereby permitting her thoughts to advance
and fashion the commencement of the following line, couplet,
or stanza, which was always eagerly and expressively
pronounced at its commencement, and as regularly terminated
in the thought-resolving chant.

"Among the subjects which she treated, some of which she
began with little preparation, were the following:--The
discoveries of Galileo and Columbus, and the ingratitude of
their country; two Doctors, a Lawyer and Jealous Woman; a
Lawyer's Inkhorn; and a Dialogue between the Dome of St.
Peter and the Dome of Florence. This last appeared to
perplex her a little, and it was some time before she could
fashion it to her mind; indeed, there was an expectation,
from the frequency of her turns across the stage, and her
contracted brow, that she would be obliged to acknowledge a
failure; but when she advanced and began in elegant strains
to state the difficult nature of the singular task imposed
on her, to give tongues to the domes so long silent, and
listen to so distant a dialogue between the Duomo, the boast
of Florence, and the Dome of St. Peter, suspended in mid air
by the divine Buonarotti; and then with increasing
enthusiasm, made them recount, in strains of honourable
emulation, the great events of which they had been the
witnesses, the delight of the audience knew no bounds in the
thundering repetitions of bravo!

"Some of the pieces she composed with terminating words,
suggested by acclamation from the audience as she proceeded;
other pieces were so conceived as to introduce a particular
word into every stanza, proposed by any voice at its
commencement. It was a singular and interesting exhibition,
in which a little feeble woman, during a whole evening,
could afford the most refined entertainment to a crowded
theatre. Such is the homage paid to mental superiority."

From Florence, Mr. Peale proceeded to Pisa, and thence along the plains or alluvial grounds between the mountains and the Mediterranean, on the road to Genoa. At Carrara, he visited and examined the studios and work-shops, where the various works in the marble of the celebrated quarries are made. This marble is obtained in the ravines of the mountains, from two to five miles distant from the town. It is generally taken from their base, but frequently great masses are tumbled from situations many hundred feet high, to which the labourers are an hour in ascending, and where they work with cords around them, to secure them against the danger of falling. The whitest marble is found only in occasional layers, some at the base of the mountain is most beautifully so.

On entering Genoa, the streets through which Mr. Peale passed, though of moderate width, presented the appearance of much magnificence, being lined with the palaces of the king and nobles. In other parts he remarked, however, but little of the splendour which would entitle it to be called a city of palaces; the houses are in general plain and high, and the passages of communication wide enough only for persons on foot.

From Genoa, Mr. Peale turned again to the east, and, crossing the extremities of the Maritime Alps, passed through the broad and beautiful plain which spreads far and wide on either bank of the Po. At Parma, he visited the plain and simple palace where the Empress Maria Louisa resides, and a beautiful new theatre contiguous to it lately built by her; he saw also the more splendid palace once inhabited by Napoleon, which is at the extremity of the city, surrounded by fine gardens, and contains some good frescoes and fine old tapestry. The pictures which crowd the churches, are not, however, in the best style, but the marbles are frequently rich and well wrought.

Bologna presents the singular character of a city composed of streets, lined, with a few exceptions, with arcades, many of which are of lofty and elegant proportions, and the arches supported by stone pillars with handsome bases and capitals, while others are of plastered brick. These long ranges of columnated arcades, impart great elegance to the general aspect of the place. The public square is ornamented by a magnificent fountain, which ranks among the greatest works of John of Bologna. In the gallery of the fine arts are some admirable pictures of Guido, Domenichino, and the Caraccis; and the Pontifical University is attended by a great number of students, while its halls are well filled by an extensive library, and large collections relating to natural science.

From Bologna Mr. Peale proceeded through Ferrara to Venice. His description of the entrance into that celebrated city of the sea, does not offer the glowing picture which novelists and poets have delighted to paint, but perhaps conveys a more correct idea of the reality.

"Early the next morning we beheld the queen of the ocean, at
the extremity of the lagune, stretching across, and almost
united with the mole of fishermen's dwellings, called
Palestrina. The steeples and domes were relieved by an
extensive range of gray mountains, rising high in the
distance, upon the tops of which the snow was bright with
the rising sun. For many miles our boat was towed by another
boat with oarsmen. At length we reached some old walls and
ruinous houses, the outskirts of Venice, and passing these,
opened into a magnificent harbour, resembling a great river,
lined with good houses, and animated by a variety of
shipping and boats in motion. Crossing this great harbour,
we approached a point of land embellished by a beautiful
edifice as the Porto Franco, and then opened into another
great but less spacious canal. In front, the singular but
beautiful palace of the doges, and the lesser palace of St.
Mark were close by, with a fine terrace or wharf extending
along the water's edge. As our boat pursued its way to the
post-office, down the great serpentine canal or river, the
magnificence of the palaces, and their peculiar style of
architecture, rich in bold ornaments, balconies, and
sculptures, excited us to frequent exclamations of
admiration. What must have been their beauty when Venice was
in her full glory, and these marble palaces were new or in
bright repair? From many which were built of brick, the
plastering was falling off, and others, with broken windows,
were uninhabited: yet, as an evidence of renovation, since
Venice has been made a free port, we passed a large new
edifice, rising from an old foundation, and others
undergoing repair.

"The _Gondola_, about which so much is said and sung, is a
ferry-boat, very much resembling an Indian canoe, floating
lightly on the water, and rising pointed at each end, the
front being ornamented with a large sharp-edged piece of
iron, something like a battle-axe. In the centre are
cushioned seats, with an arched covering of black cloth,
where two grown persons and two children may conveniently
sit, or, on an emergency, six grown persons may squeeze
together, either with open door and side windows, or closed
with glass or black Venetian blinds. The boatmen, without a
rudder, and only one oar at his right side, stands on the
little deck of his narrow stern, and bearing his weight on
his oar, which seldom rises out of the water, not only urges
the gondola straight onwards, but by dextrous movements,
which are practised from infancy, turns it in all directions
with surprising facility and accuracy.

"Having reached the post-office, and assorted our baggage,
we entered one of these gondolas, and returned to the Hotel
de l'Europe, which we had passed on entering the port. I
found that the use of one oar produced an unpleasant rocking
of the boat, to which those are not subject who employ an
additional boatman at the front of the canoe, whose oar,
striking simultaneously with the other, at opposite sides,
corrects the evil, and it affords the advantage of greater
speed when long excursions are to be made. We landed on
marble steps rising a few feet out of the water to a vast
hall, in which the light gondola, when only for private use,
may be deposited; first divested of its covered chamber,
which two men lift off the seats and carry up.

"It had begun to rain before we entered Venice, and a mist
obscured the magnificent mountains which we had seen at
sun-rise stretching beyond and extending far over the low
lands of the adjoining continent. As it cleared up, however,
the view from our elevated balcony, of splendid edifices
stretching in various directions into the broad expanse of
waters, was as delightful as it was novel."

Mr. Peale remained in Venice, only sufficiently long to make a rapid survey of the works of art which it contains, especially the masterpieces of Titian, Paul Veronese, and Tintoretto, which are found in its palaces and churches. Though the necessity of passing generally along the canals, and the narrowness of the streets which do traverse the city to a much greater extent than is supposed, give a gloominess to Venice, yet the place and arcades of St. Mark offer a gay scene not often surpassed. The leisure and excitement of a Sunday afternoon especially, make them lively with the fashion and curiosity of the city; among which the gay modes of Paris are less to be admired than the fine features and rich complexions of the descendants of those men and women, who have served as models for the glowing pencils of the masters we have named. In the evening, the crowd may he seen still to increase, enjoying the soft mildness of the sea atmosphere, and basking in the blaze of the patent lamplight which attracts them round the coffee-houses; whilst a fine band of military music, stationed in the centre of the place, with music-books and lamps, greatly increases the popular enjoyment at the expense of the government. The grand canal, in length two miles, presents on each side a great number of elegant palaces, intermingled with some ordinary buildings, all in a degree blackened and injured by age and neglect. Some of the palaces of the ancient noble families are in a grand style of architecture, enriched with a profusion of bold sculpture, according to the taste of the times, and the peculiar propensity of the Venitians to this exuberance of decoration.

From Venice Mr. Peale again turned across the peninsula. Passing through Padua, Vicenza, and Verona, he reached Milan, where he visited the celebrated works of art, which however do not seem to be numerous. There, however, he took leave of the arts of Italy, and bent his way towards the Alps. Near the village of Arona, he saw and inspected the colossal statue of San Carlo Borromeo, which he thus describes.

"It is made of sheet copper, and stands on a pedestal about
forty feet high; and judging by a ladder which was placed at
one side, and the proportions of the persons who ascended
it, I computed the height of the statue to be about seventy
feet. This agrees with the statement of my companions, who
ascended under the skirt of his tunic, and climbed the iron
bars which united the circumference of the bishop's garment
with the brick core that rises through it. The head, they
agree, is about eight or nine feet in height, so that only a
boy or a very small man can stand in the nose. Yet it is not
only a very stupendous, but I think it rather an elegant
statue. My companions were amused with the singular
animation which they found in the head of the saint, the
dark asylum of a vast number of bats, which darted past them
to escape out of a trap-door in the neck."

Crossing the Alps by the route of the Simplon, Mr. Peale reached Geneva, on the 29th of May, and after a short stay, set off for Paris. The dirt and incommodiousness of most of the Italian cities, gave increased enjoyment to his return to the noble quays of Paris, the Boulevards, and the gardens of the Luxembourg, Tuileries, and Palais Royal. After the course, too, which he had made through Italy, it became an object of no little interest to examine the treasures of the Louvre. He acknowledges that the specimens of the Italian painters there preserved, sunk a little in his estimation as he compared them with the best works in the galleries he had visited; but at the same time, he derived increased pleasure from many of the productions of what may be termed the old French school--especially from those of Poussin, Vernet, and Subleyras.

From Paris, he crossed the channel to England. He was astonished at the great improvements of late years in London, especially in the vast amount of buildings and ornamented squares, erected in the place of green fields, and the improvements effected in opening and widening many streets. _Regent street_, lined with splendid shops and dwellings like palaces, including its circular sweep of fluted cast-iron columns, and connecting St. James's park with the Regent's park, encircled with splendid mansions, he thought perhaps unequalled by any thing of the kind he had seen. Among the artists, he found our countrymen, Leslie and Newton, holding a distinguished rank, and he bears especial testimony, not only to the genius and reputation, but to the urbanity and moral worth of the former.

From London he proceeded to Portsmouth, and embarking there, reached America after an absence of nearly two years, on the last of September, 1830.

We have already remarked, that in this volume a reader is not to look for those reflections, either on ancient or modern Italy, which are to be found in the pages of scholars and travellers, who have visited it to revive the memory of former studies, or to gratify emotions which are excited by the contemplation of the fading relics of the grandeur of Rome. Yet, we collect among the notices of Mr. Peale, many remarks which occurred to him in the necessary attention he paid to the antiquities that abounded on his route, from one part of the country to another; and while he was exploring, with the curious zeal for which he is distinguished, all parts of the various cities and towns in which he stayed. Of these his narrative is perfectly simple. He enters into no antiquarian discussions; he quotes no passages of familiar poets and historians; he feels no peculiar glow from standing upon spots, or gazing upon scenes, which would have filled to overflowing a heart imbued with the remembrance of Virgil and of Livy. He paused in the midst of the Forum, but not for him

"Did the still eloquent air breathe--burn with Cicero."

He wandered among the heights of Tivoli, but though the "praeceps Anio" and the "domus Albuneae resonantis" were still there, they seem not to have excited one thought of him, who not only preferred them to the favoured cities of Juno and Minerva, but gave them as lasting a fame. This is not in our opinion an objection to the volume of Mr. Peale; the task of classical illustration has been well performed in the travels of Eustace, whose book, censured as it may be, will ever be a favourite with scholars; and it has been yet more brilliantly performed by the wonderful genius of that man, who has given new fame in his immortal poem to spots already consecrated by the noblest and sweetest inspirations of the muse. As to most travellers, indeed, we had infinitely rather that all classical allusion was omitted, than have inflicted upon us the long string of hackneyed quotations, and the vapid recollections of schoolboy studies, which go for the most part to make up such portions of their journals. What we find here on the subject of antiquities, is just what we might expect from an inquisitive man of taste, making no pretensions to extraordinary research or information. When at Naples, Mr. Peale of course visited the buried towns of Herculaneum and Pompeii, and has described them with much minuteness, so as convey a very distinct impression of their present state.

"The first house which was shown to us was the _Villa of
Diomedes_, of considerable extent, comprising a variety of
apartments and gardens. We descended into his wine cellar,
where there still remain some of the jars that contained his
wine. In this spacious cellar seventeen skeletons were
found, probably persons of his family who had sought this
place for safety. They were smothered and entombed, with all
their ornaments of gold upon them, by the flood of hot water
and ashes, which had evidently flowed in through the little
windows where light had been admitted, and where the traces
of the fluid may still be seen.

"The houses were generally of only one story, though, in a
few instances, we found a small stair-way leading to some
upper apartments. They consist of a great many small rooms
surrounding a court-yard, with a kind of piazza all around,
as a protection against the sun and rain. In two private
court-yards we were shown gaily decorated fountains, in
alcoves or niches, curiously and elaborately ornamented with
mosaic and shellwork, the shells being in perfect
preservation.

"We looked into many shops, the counters of which were
incrusted with bits of marble, of various colours, fitted
around the narrow mouths of large earthen jars, which were
imbedded in solid brick work, to hold oil and wine.
Sometimes there were little shelves, like steps, covered
with marble, upon which small articles were displayed close
to the window.

"The basilica, or great hall of justice, was an oblong hall
of great size, surrounded inside with noble columns, which,
from their size, must have supported a lofty roof. At the
farther end was an elevated throne, on which the judges sat;
and beneath it a chamber, where three skeletons of men were
found, fastened by their legs to iron stocks. From the
public promenade we entered the tragic and the comic
theatres; walked over the stone scats, now moss-stained;
looked on the shallow stage, which allowed no scenic effect;
stood in the prompter's central niche, and read the names of
the managers, recorded in mosaic letters on the pavement in
front of the orchestra; but its best sculptural decorations
had been removed to the museum."

In the museum at Naples are preserved all the articles taken from the houses at Herculaneum and Pompeii, and they offer specimens of almost every thing that, even at the present day, domestic establishments seem to require. The visiter may here behold the charcoal form of a loaf of bread impressed with the baker's name; a plate of eggs, or rather egg shells, some of which are not broken, retaining their natural whiteness; thread nets for boiling vegetables; figs, prunes, dates, olives, and nuts of various kinds; the golden ornaments of the ladies; vases of glass of various colours; utensils of the clearest crystal; bronze candelabra of singular and beautiful forms; and all the apparatus of a household, exhibiting taste, convenience and luxury. Here, too, are seen the fresco paintings taken from Pompeii. Those first discovered, happening to be found in a part of the city inhabited by tradesmen, did not furnish the most elegant specimens of the arts. The judgments which were consequently propagated from one antiquarian critic to another, were unfavourable to the ancient painters, who were pronounced inferior to contemporary sculptors, and ignorant of grouping, foreshortening, and perspective. Subsequent excavations have been made in a portion of the city where splendid temples, halls of justice, theatres, and spacious dwellings, gave occasion for the best employment of the arts. The result has been the discovery not only of statues and sculpture far superior to that formerly developed, but of fresco paintings of great excellence and beauty. Very different from those previously collected, they decisively indicate a high state of painting, as it must have been practised in Greece and Italy at the time the statues were executed, which yet exhibit such perfect knowledge of the human form, and of the principles of grouping. They prove that the ancient painters were perfectly acquainted with the rules of perspective and foreshortening. Indeed, we may fairly believe, from these beautiful works, done on walls, and probably by inferior artists, that on other occasions, as in moveable pictures, their best artists must have painted in a manner to correspond with the high rank of their sculpture, and the extraordinary accounts given of them by contemporary writers.

"These specimens of ancient fresco painting have been cut
out of the walls, where they were executed, with great care,
and transported here in strong cases, which serve as frames.
When first found, they are pale and dull; but, on being
varnished, their colours are brightened up to their pristine
hues, and exhibit to the astonished eye every stroke of the
brush, slightly indenting the fresh mortar, which was given
by hands that perished, with the genius that directed them,
nearly eighteen hundred years ago, yet appearing as the rich
and mellow pencilling of yesterday. Most of them are taken
from shops and ordinary houses, and represent all kinds of
objects, drawn with remarkable spirit and truth. Many of the
better kind served to decorate apartments in which there
were no windows, where they must have been executed, and
afterwards seen only by lamplight. But the best were found
in the porticos of open court yards, or on the walls of
dining-rooms or saloons. In looking closely into these, I
was surprised to find such spirited execution and knowledge
of anatomy, combined with the most exquisite beauty,
perfection of drawing, colouring and expression of
character."