Chapter X (1)

Mola di Gaeta--Capua--Lines on leaving Naples--Return to Rome--
The Aqueducts--'Domine, quo vadis?'--St. Peter's--The Scala
Santa--Reasons in favour of San Gennaro--Ascent of St.
Peter's--Library of the Vatican--A racing _ex voto_--Illness of
George IV.--Approaching _Coup d'état_ in France--The Villa
Mills--The Malaria--Duc and Duchesse de Dalberg--The Emperor
Nicholas on his Accession--Cardinal Albani--A _Columbarium_--
Maii--Sir William Gell--Tivoli--Hadrian's Villa--The Adventures
of Miss Kelly and Mr. Swift--Audience of the Pope--Gibson's
Studio--End of Miss Kelly's Marriage--A great Function--The
Jesuits--Saint-making--San Lorenzo in Lucina--The Flagellants--
Statues by Torchlight--Bunsen on the State of Rome--Fiascati--
Relations of Protestant States with Rome--The French Ministry--
M. de Villèle--The Coliseum--Excommunication of a Thief--The
Passionists--The Corpus Domini--A Rash Marriage--Farewell to
Rome--Falls of Terni--Statue at Pratolino--Bologna--
Mezzofanti--Ferrara--Venice--Padua--Vicenza--Brescia--Verona--
Milan--Lago Maggiore--The Simplon--Geneva--Paris.

Mola di Gaeta, May 9th, 1830 {p.359}

I have dined here on an open terrace (looking over the garden and the delicious Bay), where I have been sitting writing the whole evening. The moon is just rising, and throwing a flood of silver over the sea--

Rising in cloudless majesty,
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

We left Naples at half-past seven in the morning, went to Caserta, and walked over the palace, in which nothing struck me but the dimensions, the staircase, and a few of the rooms. The theatre is very well contrived; it is at one end of the palace, and the back of it opens by large folding doors into the garden, so that they can have any depth of stage they please, and arrange any pageants or cavalcades. This could, however, only be at a theatre in a country house. Thence to Capua, and went over the Amphitheatre, which is very remarkable. It is said to be larger than the Coliseum, but the arena did not appear to me so vast. Here we are in the land of names again, and it is impossible for the imagination not to run over the grandeur, luxury, and fate of Capua, for on the very spot on which I was standing (for the chief places are ascertained) in all probability Hannibal often sat to see the games.[1]

[1] No such thing. _His_ Capua was nearly destroyed, and if
it had an amphitheatre it would have been ruined. These
ruins must have belonged to Capua the Second, which was
restored by Augustus or Tiberius, and became as
flourishing and populous as the first had been.--
[C.C.G.]

The Italian postilions, it must be owned, are a comical set. They sometimes go faster than ever I went in England, then at others they creep like snails, and stop at the least inclined plane to put on the _scarpa_. The occasions they generally select for going fast are when they have six horses harnessed to the carriage, and so extend about ten yards, on slippery pavement, through very narrow streets, extremely crowded with women and children; then they will flog their horses to full speed, and clatter along without fear or shame. Nothing happens; I have remarked that nothing ever does anywhere in Italy.

I have walked over this garden [at Gaeta], which contains remains of one of Cicero's villas, but they are only arched rooms like vaults, and not worth seeing but for the name of Cicero, and the recollection that he was murdered almost on this spot. He had good taste in his villas, for this bay is as placid and delicious as that of Baiae. There is an ancient bath, which probably belonged to the villa; it is in the sea, and still available, when cleaned out, which just now it is not.

[Page Head: LINES ON LEAVING NAPLES]

Rome, May 10th, 1830 {p.360}

Left Mola at half-past seven and got here at ten minutes after seven. It was so kind as to rain last night and this morning, and lay the dust all the way. Stopped at Terracina, and went to see the ancient port, which is worth seeing. The road is pretty all the way, but the scenery in Italy wants verdure and foliage. The beauty of these landscapes consists in the bold outlines, lofty mountains, abundant vegetation, and bright atmosphere, and they are always better to look at from a little distance than very near. Aricia is pretty well wooded. I found a parcel of letters with the London news; but the post is enough to drive one mad, for I got one of the 23rd of April and another of the 19th of March on the same day.

_ON TAKING LEAVE OF NAPLES._
(Written in a carriage between Naples and Mola di Gaeta.)
'_Nascitur poeta._'

Though not a spark of true poetic fire
Beamed at my birth, or on my cradle fell,
Though rude my numbers, and untuned my lyre,
I will not leave thee with a mute farewell.

I cannot see recede thy sunny shore,
Nor ling'ring look my last upon thy bay,
And know that they will meet my gaze no more,
Yet tearless take my unreturning way.

'Tis not that Love laments his broken toys,
Nor is it Friendship murmurs to depart,
Touching the chords of recollected joys
Which ring with sad vibration on the heart.

Nor bound am I in Habit's unfelt chain,
Which o'er the fancy steals with gradual pow'r,
Till local sympathy awakes in pain,
That slept unconscious till the parting hour.

But 'tis the charm, so great, yet undefin'd,
That Nature's self around fair Naples throws,
Which now excites and elevates the mind,
And now invites it to no dull repose.

No exhalations damp the spirits choke,
That feed on ether temp'rate and serene;
No yellow fogs, or murky clouds of smoke,
Obscure the lustre of this joyous scene.

The God of Gladness with prolific ray
Bids the rich soil its teeming womb expand,
While healthful breezes, cooled with Ocean's spray,
Scatter a dewy freshness o'er the land.

No mountain billow's huge uplifted crest
Lashes the foaming beach with sullen roar;
The smooth sea sparkles in unbroken rest,
Or lightly rakes upon the pebbled shore.

The Ocean's Monarch on these golden sands
Seems the luxurious laws of Love to own,[2]
And yield his trident to Thalassia's hands,
To rule the waters from the Baian throne.

Here the green olive, and the purple vine,
The lofty poplar and the elm espouse,
Or round the mulberry their tendrils twine,
Or creep in clusters through the ilex boughs.

A thousand flow'rs, enamelling the fields,
Declare the presence of returning spring;
A various harvest smiling Ceres yields,
And all the groves with vocal music sing.

Earth, air, and sea th' enchantment of the clime,
Revived that young elation of the breast
When Hope, undaunted, saw the form of Time
In Fancy's gay, deluding colours drest,

And though those visions are for ever fled
Which in the morning of existence rose,
And all the false and flatt'ring hopes are dead
That vainly promised a serener close.

I'll snatch the joys which spite of fate remain
To cheer life's darkness with a transient ray,
And oft in vivid fancy roam again
Through these blest regions when I'm far away.

[2] The Temple of Venus stands upon the shore of the Bay of
Baiae.

[Page Head: THE AQUEDUCTS]

Rome, May 13th, 1830 {p.362}

_11th._--Walked about visiting to announce my return, and found nobody at home. Hired a horse and rode with Lovaine till near eight o'clock; rode by the Via Sacra two or three miles along the Street of Tombs--very interesting and curious--and then cut across to the ruin of an old villa, where an apartment floored with marble has lately been discovered, evidently a bath, and a very large one; on to Torlonia's _scavo_ and under the arches of the Claudian aqueduct. Nothing at Rome delights and astonishes me more than the aqueducts, the way they stretch over the Campagna--[3]

As some earth-born giants spread
Their mighty arms along th' indented mead.

And when you approach them how admirable are their vastness and solidity--each arch in itself a fabric, and the whole so venerable and beautiful. After all my delight at Naples I infinitely prefer Rome; there is a tranquil magnificence and repose about Rome, and an indefinable pleasure in the atmosphere, the colouring, and the ruins, which are better felt than described. We lingered about the aqueducts till dark, but there is hardly any twilight here; the sun sets, and in half an hour it is night. Almost everybody is gone or going, but the heat can't have driven them away, for it is perfectly cool.

[3] The Claudian aqueduct, which is the grandest, and whose
enormous remains form the great ornament of the
Campagna, was begun by Caligula, and finished by
Claudius. The structure of the arches is exactly like
those of the Coliseum. The first aqueduct was built by
Appius Caecus, the censor, the same who laid down the
Via Appia, 310 B.C.

As we set out on our ride we passed a little church called 'Domine, quo vadis?' which was built on this occasion:--St. Peter was escaping from Rome (he was a great coward, that Princeps Apostolorum), and at this spot he met Christ, and said to him, 'Domine, quo vadis?' 'Why,' replied our Saviour, 'I am going to be crucified over again, for you are running away, and won't stay to do my business here;' on which St. Peter returned to suffer in his own person, and the church was built in commemoration of the event. The Saint has no reason to be flattered at the character which is given of him by the pious editors of his Epistles. 'Confidence and zeal form a conspicuous part of his character, but he was sometimes deficient in firmness and resolution. He had the faith to walk upon the water, but when the sea grew boisterous his faith deserted him and he became afraid. He was forward to acknowledge Jesus to be the Messiah, and declared himself ready to die in that profession, and yet soon after he thrice denied, and with oaths, that he knew anything of Jesus. The warmth of his temper led him to cut off the ear of the High Priest's servant, and by his timidity and dissimulation respecting the Gentile converts at Antioch he incurred the censure of the eager and resolute St. Paul.'

[Page Head: MODERN MIRACLES]

We returned through the Porta di San Giovanni, and by the Scala Santa. There are three flights of steps; those in the middle are covered with wood (that the marble may not be worn out), and these are the holy steps; the other two are for the pious to walk down. I had no idea anybody ever went up on their knees, though I was aware they were not allowed to go up on their feet, and with no small surprise saw several devout females in the performance of this ceremony. They walk up the vestibule, drop upon their knees, rise and walk over the landing-place, carefully tuck up their gowns, drop again, and then up they toil in the most absurd and ridiculous postures imaginable.

Weak in their limbs, but in devotion strong,
On their bare hands and feet they crawl along.
DRYDEN, _Juv._ 6.

I suppose there is some spiritual advantage derivable from the action, but I don't know what. Why, however, I should be surprised I can't tell, after all I have seen here. Madame de Dalberg came to my recollection, and San Gennaro; she had owned to me that she believed in the miracle, and we had a long dispute about it, though I have since thought that I am wrong to regard her credulity with such pity and contempt. The case admits of an argument, though not that which she made use of. Many people are right in what they do, but without knowing why; some wrong, with very fair reasons. She, however, is wrong both ways, but she had been brought up in principles of strong religious belief, and she belongs to a church which teaches that miracles have never ceased from the days of the Apostles till now. Those who believe that a miracle ever was performed cannot doubt that another _may_ be performed now; the only question is as to the fact. _We_ believe that miracles ceased with the Apostles, and we pronounce all that are alleged to have happened since to be fictitious. Believing as she does that miracles have continually occurred, it is more reasonable to believe in the reality of one she sees herself than in those which are reported by others. She sees this done; it is, then, a miracle or it is an imposture; but it is declared to be a miracle by a whole body of men, who must know whether it be so or not, and to whom she has been accustomed to look up with respect and confidence, and who have always been deemed worthy of belief. What is it, then, she believes? The evidence of her own senses, and the testimony of a number of men, and a succession of them, who are competent witnesses, and whose characters are for the most part unblemished, in her opinion certainly. The objection that it is improbable, and that no sufficient reason is assigned for its performance, is quite inadmissible, as all considerations of reason are in matters of revelation.

And when the event only is revealed, it is not for men to
dogmatise about the mode or means of its accomplishment,
for God's ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as
our thoughts, and His purposes may be wrought out in a
manner that we wot not.--KEITH.

There is nothing of which we are so continually reminded as that we must not pretend to judge of the reasonableness and fitness of the Divine dispensations, and there may therefore be good cause for the San Gennaro affair, though we cannot fathom it. Still, as the generality of people of education have given it up, one wonders at the orthodox few whose belief lingers on. There are other bloods that liquefy in various places besides San Gennaro's.

_12th._--Walked to Santa Agnese, in the Piazza Navona, a pretty church, but hardly anybody in it; to Santa Maria sopra Minerva, empty likewise, but Michael Angelo's Christ was there--a grand performance, though defective about the legs, which are too thick; he has one golden foot for the devotees, who were wearing out the marble toe, and would soon have had it as smooth as that of Jupiter's in St. Peter's; _ci-devant_ Jupiter, now St. Peter.

I went again to the Pantheon, and walked round and round, and looked, and admired; even the ragged wretches who came in seemed struck with admiration. It is so fine to see the clouds rolling above through the roof; it passes my comprehension how this temple escaped the general wreck of Rome. Then to St. Peter's, and went up to the roof and to the ball, through the aperture of which I could just squeeze, though there is plenty of room when once in it. The ball holds above thirty people, stuffed close of course. Three other men were going up at the same time, who filled the narrow ascent with garlicky effluvia. It is impossible to have an idea of the size and grandeur of St. Peter's without going over the roof, and examining all the details, and looking down from the galleries. The ascent is very easy; there are slabs at the bottom taken from the holy gates, as they were successively opened and closed by the different Popes at the Jubilees.[4] At the top were recorded the ascents of various kings and princes and princesses, who had clambered up; there was also an inscription in Latin and Italian, the very counterpart of that which is still seen on the wall in Titus's Baths, only instead of 'Jovem omnipotentem atque omnes Deos iratos habeat,' &c. &c., it runs, 'Iratos habeat Deum omnipotentem et Apostolos Petrum et Paulum,' though I don't see why Paul should care about it. Went afterwards and walked on the Pincian.

[4] The Jubilee was established by Boniface VIII. in 1300,
and was originally a centenary commemoration, but
reduced to fifty years, and afterwards to twenty-five,
as it still continues. Hallam remarks that the Court of
Rome at the next Jubilee will read with a sigh the
description of that of 1300. 'The Pope received an
incalculable sum of money, for two priests stood day
and night at the altar of St. Peter, with rakes in
their hands, raking up the heaps of money.'--MURATORI.

This morning went with the Lovaines and Monsignore Spada to see the library of the Vatican, which was to have been shown us by Monsignore Maii, the librarian, but he was engaged elsewhere and did not come. These galleries are most beautiful, vast, and magnificent, and the painting of the old part interesting and curious, but that which was done by Pius VI. and Pius VII. has deformed the walls with such trash as I never beheld; they present various scenes of the misfortunes of these two Popes, and certain passages in their lives. The principal manuscripts we saw were a history of Federigo di Felto, Duke of Urbino, and nephew of Julius II., beautifully illuminated by Julio Clovio, a scholar of Giulio Romano. I never saw anything more exquisite than these paintings. Amongst the most curious of the literary treasures we saw are a manuscript of some of St. Augustine's works, written upon a palimpsest of Cicero's 'De Republicâ;' this treatise was brought to light by Maii; the old Latin was as nearly erased as possible, but by the application of gall it has been brought out faintly, but enough to be made out, and completely read: Henry VIII.'s love-letters to Anne Boleyn, in French and English: Henry's reply to Luther, the presentation copy to the Pope (Clement VII.), signed by him twice at the end, in English at the end of the book, in Latin at the dedication, which is also written by his own hand, only a line; the pictures representing St. Peter's in different stages of the work are very curious. In the print room there is a celestial globe painted by Julio Romano.

[Page Head: A RACING VOW]

Just before I went to the Vatican I read in 'Galignani' the agreeable intelligence that my mare Lady Emily had beat Clotilde at Newmarket, which I attribute entirely to my _ex voto_ of a silver horse-shoe, which I vowed, before I went to Naples, to the Virgin of the Pantheon in case I won the match; and, as I am resolved to be as good as my word, I have ordered the horse-shoe, which is to be sent on Monday, and as soon as it arrives it shall be suspended amongst all the arms, and legs, and broken gigs, and heads, and silver hearts, and locks of hair.

Everybody here is in great alarm about the King (George IV.), who I have no doubt is very ill. I am afraid he will die before I get home, and I should like to be in at the death and see all the proceedings of a new reign; but, now I am here, I must stay out my time, let what will happen. I shall probably never see Rome again, and 'according to the law of probability, so true in general, so false in particular,' I have a good chance of seeing at least one more King leave us.

May 15th, 1830 {p.368}

I rode with Lord Haddington to the Villa Mellini last evening on a confounded high-going old hunter of Lord Lynedoch's, which he gave to William Russell. On my return found Henry de Ros just arrived, having been stopped at Aquapendente and Viterbo for want of a _lascia passare._

This morning I have been dragging him about the town till he was half dead. The three last days have been the hottest to which Rome is subject--not much sun, no wind, but an air like an oven. The only cool place is St. Peter's, that is delicious. It is the coolest place in summer and the warmest in winter. We went to St. Peter's, Coliseum, gallery of the Vatican, Villa Albani, and Villa Borghese. The Villa Albani I had not seen before; it is a good specimen of a Roman villa, full of fine things (the finest of which is the Antinous), but very ill kept up. The Cardinal has not set his foot in it for a year and a half; there is one walk of ilexes perfectly shady, but all the rest is exposed to the sun. The post brought very bad accounts of the King, who is certainly dying. I have no notion that he will live till I get home, but they tell me there will be no changes. Gagarin told me last night that Lieven is to be governor to the Emperor of Russia's eldest son, that for the present he will retain the title of Ambassador, and that Matuscewitz will be Chargé d'Affaires in London.

[Page Head: APPROACHING COUP D'ETAT IN FRANCE]

May 18th, 1830 {p.368}

Again dragging Henry de Ros about, who likes to see sights, but is not strong enough to undergo fatigue. Yesterday I called on M. de la Ferronays, and had a long conversation about French politics; he is greatly alarmed at the state of affairs in France, and told me that he had said everything he could to the King to dissuade him from changing his Ministry and trying a _coup d'état_, that the King has always been in his heart averse to a Constitution, and has now got it into his head that there is a settled design to subvert the royal authority, in which idea he is confirmed by those about him, 'son petit entourage.' He anticipates nothing but disaster to the King and disorder in the country from these violent measures, and says that France was increasing in prosperity, averse to change, satisfied with its Government and Constitution, and only desirous of certain ameliorations in the internal administration of the country, and of preserving inviolate the institutions it had obtained. He thinks the success of the expedition to Algiers, if it should succeed, will have no effect in strengthening the hands of Polignac; says they committed a capital fault in the beginning by proroguing the Chambers upon their making that violent Address in answer to the Speech, that they should immediately have proceeded to propose the enactment of those laws of which the country stands in need, when if the Chamber had agreed to them the Ministry would have appeared to have a majority, and would thereby gain moral strength; and if they had been rejected, the King would have had a fine opportunity of appealing to the nation, and saying that as long as they had attacked him personally he had passed it by, but as they opposed all those ameliorations which the state of France required, his people might judge between him and them, and that this would at least have given him a chance of success and brought many moderate people to his side. He added that he had also said the same thing to Polignac, but without success, that he is totally ignorant of France and will listen to nobody. I told him that Henry de Ros had been at Lyons when the Dauphin came, and how ill he was received by the townspeople and the troops, at which he did not seem at all surprised, though sorry.

Went to Santa Maria in Trastevere to-day, the Farnese Palace, the Farnesina and Spada, Portico d'Ottavia and Mausoleo d'Augusto; this last not worth seeing at all. The last time I was at the Spada I did not see the pictures, some of which are very good, particularly a Judith by Guido, and a Dido by Guercino, which is damaged, but beautiful. Then to Santa Maria Maggiore and St. John Lateran, and a ride over the Campagna to the Claudian aqueduct and Torlonia's _scavo_.

May 20th, 1830 {p.370}

I breakfasted with Mills at his villa on the Palatine; Madame de Menon, Henry Cheney, Fox, and the Portuguese Charge d'Affaires; very agreeable: his villa charming; it formerly belonged to Julius II., and one room is painted in fresco by Raphael and his scholars, as they say.

The Portuguese is Donna Maria's officer. The relations of the Holy See with Portugal are rather anomalous, but sensible. The Pope says he has nothing to do with politics, does not acknowledge Don Miguel, but as he is _de facto_ ruler of Portugal, he must for the good of the Church (whose interests are not to be abandoned for any temporal considerations) transact business with him, and so he does. This Envoy is very sanguine as to the ultimate success of the Queen's cause.

Went to the Orti Farnesiani and to Livia's Baths, where there is still some painting and gilding to be seen. Then to the Capitol; saw the pictures and statues (again), and called on Bunsen, who told me a colossal head of Commodus could not be Commodus (which stands in the court of the Capitol); he won't allow anything is anything. He is full of politics, and thinks the French will get rid of their domestic difficulties by colonising Africa, and does not see why they should not as well as the Romans; but he seems a better antiquary than politician.

Some pictures in the Capitol are very fine--Domenichino's Sybil and Santa Barbara, Guercino's Santa Petronella (copied in mosaic in St. Peter's) and Cleopatra and Antony. There are several unfinished Guidos, some only just begun. They say he played, and when he lost and could not pay, painted a picture; so these are the produce of bad nights, and their progress perhaps arrested by better.

To the Borghese Villa. At present I think Chiswick better than any villa here, but they tell me when I get home and see Chiswick and remember these I shall think differently.

[Page Head: MALARIA]

May 22nd, 1830

Found it absolutely necessary to adopt Roman customs and dine early and go out after dinner; one must dine at four or at nine. Went to Raphael's house, which is painted by his scholars, and one room by himself; a very pretty villa, uninhabited, and belongs to an old man and an old woman, who will neither live in it nor let it. Though close to the Villa Borghese, which is occupied by the malaria, this villa is quite free from it. The malaria is inexplicable. If it was 'palpable to sight as to feeling,' it would be like a fog which reaches so far and no farther. Here are ague and salubrity, cheek by jowl. To the Pamfili Doria, a bad house with a magnificent view all round Rome; fine garden in the regular clipped style, but very shady, and the stone pines the finest here; this garden is well kept. Malaria again; Rome is blockaded by malaria, and some day will surrender to it altogether; as it is, it is melancholy to see all these deserted villas and palaces, scarcely one of which is inhabited or decently kept. I don't know one palace or villa which is lived in as we should live in England; the Borghese Villa is the only one which is really well kept, but Prince Borghese has £70,000 a year; he lives at Florence and never comes here, but keeps collecting and filling his villa. The other morning the ground here was in many parts covered by a thin red powder, which was known to come from an eruption, and everybody thought it was Vesuvius, and so travellers reported, but it turns out to be from Etna or Stromboli. Naples was covered with it, and the sun obscured, but it is much nearer. Rome must be 300 or 400 miles from Etna.

May 23rd, 1830 {p.371}

Went to three churches--Nuova, San Giovanni del Fiorentini, San Agostino; in this latter is Raphael's fresco of the prophet Isaiah, in the style of M. Angelo, but it did not particularly strike me. There is a remarkable Madonna here, a great favourite; her shrine is quite illuminated with lamps and candles, and adorned with offerings which cover the columns on each side of the church. Numerous devotees were kissing her gilt foot, and the Virgin and Child were decked with earrings, bracelets, and jewels and gold in every shape; the Child, which is of a tawny marble, looked like some favourite little 'nigger,' so bedizened was he with finery. She is a much more popular Madonna than my friend of the Pantheon, to whom I went, as in honour bound, and hung up my horse-shoe by a purple riband (my racing colour) round one of the candlesticks on the altar, with this inscription--C.C.G., P.G.R.N. A.27, 1830.[5]

[5] [These letters appear to stand for the following votive
inscription: 'Charles Cavendish Greville. _Pro gratias
receptas nuper._ April 27, 1830.']

Took H. de Ros to see the Cenci and the skeleton friars, not exactly birds of a feather; was obliged to squabble with the monk to get a sight of my old friends the skeletons, who at last let us in, but would not take any money, which I thought monks never refused, but my _laquais de place_ said, 'Lo conosco bene, c'è molto superbo.' Rode along the Via Appia and to Maxentius's Circus.

[Page Head: ACCESSION OF THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS]

May 24th, 1830 {p.372}

Called on Sir William Gell at his eggshell of a house and pretty garden, which he planted himself ten years ago, and calls it the Boschetto Gellio. He was very agreeable, with stories of Pompeii, old walls, and ruined cities, besides having a great deal to say on living objects and passing events.

Dined with M. de la Ferronays--a great party--and was desired to hand out Madame la Comtesse de Maistre, wife to the Comte Xavier de Maistre, author of the 'Voyage autour de ma Chambre' and 'Le Lépreux,' to which works I gave a prodigious number of compliments. The Dalbergs and Aldobrandinis dined there, and some French whom I did not know. The Duc de Dalberg and his wife are a perpetual source of amusement to me, she with her devotion and believing everything, he with his air _moqueur_ and believing nothing; she so merry, he so shrewd, and so they squabble about religion. 'Qui est cet homme?' I said to him when a ludicrous-looking abbé, broader than he was long, came into the room. 'Que sais-je? quelque magot.' 'Ah, je m'en vais dire cela à la Duchesse.' 'Ah, mon cher, n'allez pas me brouiller avec ma famille.'

He had been talking to me about La Ferronays the day before, and said he was a sensible, right-headed man, 'mais diablement russe;' and last night La Ferronays gave us an account of the revolt of the Guards on the Emperor Nicholas's accession, of which he had been a witness--of the Emperor's firmness and his subsequent conversations with him, all which was very interesting, and he recounted it with great energy. He said that the day after the affair of the Guards all the _Corps Diplomatique_ had gone to him, that he had addressed them in an admirable discourse and with a firm and placid countenance. He told them that they had witnessed what had passed, and he had no doubt would give a faithful relation of it to their several Courts; that on dismissing them, he had taken him (La Ferronays) into his closet, when he burst into tears and said, 'You have just seen me act the part of Emperor; you must now witness the feelings of the man. I speak to you as to my best friend, from whom I conceal nothing.' He went on to say that he was the most miserable of men, forced upon a throne which he had no desire to mount, having been no party to the abdication of his brother, and placed in the beginning of his reign in a position the most painful, irksome, and difficult; but that though he had never sought this elevation, now that he had taken it on himself he would maintain and defend it. When La Ferronays had done, 'L'entendez-vous?' said Dalberg. 'Comme il parle avec goût; cela lui est personnel. L'Empereur ne lui a pas dit la moitié de tout cela.'

La Ferronays introduced me to Cardinal Albani, telling him I had brought him a letter from Madame Craufurd, which I did, and left it when I was here before. He thought I was just come, and asked for the letter, which I told his Eminence he had already received. He had, however, forgotten all about me, my letter, and old Craaf. We had a long conversation about the Catholic question, the Duke's duel with Lord Winchelsea (which he had evidently never heard of), the King's illness, &c. He is like a very ancient red-legged macaw, but I suppose he is a dandy among the cardinals, for he wears two stars and two watches. I asked him to procure me an audience of the Pope, which he promised to do. Escaped at last from the furnace his room was, and went to air in the streets; came home early and went to bed. This morning got up at half-past six, and went to look out for some _columbaria_ I had heard of out of the Porta Pia, and near Santa Agnese. The drones at Santa Agnese knew nothing about them, but I met La Ferronays riding as I was returning in despair, and he showed me the way to them. They have been discovered about six years, and are in a garden. The excavation may be fifteen feet by about eight or nine, more or less, and is full of broken urns and inscriptions, some of which are very good indeed. One is upon C. Cargilius Pedagogus:--

Vixi quandiu potui, sine lite, sine rixâ,
Sine contentione, sine aere alieno, amicis fidem
Bonam praestiti, peculio pauper, animo divitissimus,
Benè valeat is qui hoc titulum perlegit meum.

Another--

Lucius Virius Sancius aet. xxiii.
Quod tu mî debebas facere, ego tibi facio, mater pia.

The same idea as in Canning's verses on his son:--

Whilst I, reversed our nature's kindlier doom,
Pour forth a father's sorrows o'er his tomb.

And Evander on Pellas:--

Contra ego vivendo vici mea fata superstes
Restarem ut genitor.

As I came back I looked into San Bernardo, Santa Maria della Vittoria, and Santa Susanna, and I stopped to look at the 'Moses striking the Rock,' which is certainly very fine, though there is too much of Moses and not enough of rock or water. After breakfast to the Vatican library, where the Duc de Dalberg had engaged the Abbé Maii to meet him, and he showed us all the manuscripts, most of which I had already seen. He is very laborious as well as learned. Maii is said to undertake too much, and to leave a great deal half examined, and therefore unknown; but somebody (I forget who) is at daggers drawn with him, so it may be the accusation of a literary enemy. Went about with the Dalbergs to several places, to all of which I had been before. At every church the Duchess and her daughter dropped on their knees and sprinkled themselves with holy water, and prayed and curtsied, but nothing could get him down upon his marrow bones.

May 25th, 1830 {p.375}

Breakfasted with Gell in his Boschetto Gellio under a treillage of vines, and surrounded by fruits and flowers. He was very agreeable, and told us a great many anecdotes of the Queen and her trial. We are just setting off for Tivoli.

[Page Head: TIVOLI]

May 27th, 1830 {p.375}

Went to Tivoli. The journey hotter than flames over the Campagna. It is the most beastly town I ever saw, more like the Ghetto here than any other place, full of beggars and children. The inn very moderate, but Henry and I got a very good appartment, looking over the country, in a private house. We all dined together.

---- is the merriest of saints, the jolliest of devotees, and very unlike the ghost in 'Don Juan,' who says, 'Che si pasce di cibo celeste non si pasce di cibo mortale,' for though rigorously obedient to the prescribed fasts of the Church, she devours flesh enough on other days to suffice for those on which it is forbidden; and on the meagre days she indemnifies herself by any quantity of fish, vegetables, and _sucreries_ of all kinds. It is only like eating her first course on Thursday and her second on Friday.

After dinner we sent for the most famous guide, with the magnificent name of Pietro Stupendo, called 'Stupendous' from his frequent use of that adjective in pointing out the views. His real name is Barbarossa, which is nearly as fine. We went to see the sun set from the Villa d'Este a very fine villa, with clipped trees, waterworks, and all the usual beauties of Italian villas. It belongs to the Duke of Modena, is uninhabited, and falling to decay for want of care and attention. Thence to the Temple of the Sybil or Vesta [6] (for it goes by both names), which is very airy and graceful, and perched on the point of a rock, but its effect spoiled by being embedded in dirty, ugly houses. The fall below was made by Bernini, and is very pretty, but not grand, and it looks rather artificial. We saw it from what is called the Grotto of Neptune. At night I returned again, but nobody else would stir out. I went down to the fall, and had bundles of hay lit on the rock above, and some blue lights called _lumi di Bengala_, a sort of firework, put in the temple, and the effect was beautiful. The reflected light upon the cascade, and the light and shade upon the rocks, and the temple made visible through the darkness by the soft blue flame, without any of the background of buildings appearing, were very fine, and in the obscurity it seemed much more extensive and natural. I saw this first from the Grotto of Neptune, and then from the opposite height.

[6] I believe it to be the Sybil's Temple. There is a
frightful square building close to it they call the
Sybil's Temple, but I do not see by what authority.
Nibby says it is Vesta, but everybody else says the
Sybil.-- FORSYTH, CRAMER, &c.

[Page Head: TIVOLI]

Yesterday morning we were to have started on the _giro_ of Tivoli at six, but as women are never ready, and a good deal of eating and drinking was to be gone through before we got under weigh, we were not off till near eight. The consequence was that we got into the heat, and lost the colouring of the early morning, and those lights and shades on which great part of the beauty of this scenery depends. I was altogether disappointed; the hills are either quite bare or covered with olives, the most tiresome of trees; the falls are all artificial, and though the view at the foot of the largest (or as near as you can approach it) is beautiful, on the whole no part of the scenery answered my expectations. The water falls in eleven separate cascades (above and below), and sinking into the gulf appears to boil up again in clouds of spray, but the artificial channel above is distinctly visible. There is an ancient bridge over the Anio and part of a road up to Tivoli in wonderful preservation. Our party pleased their imaginations by thinking that Augustus and Mecaenas had probably gone cheek by jowl over the road and bridge, but Stupendous told me it was built by Valerian, A.D. 253, though he had no notion who Valerian was, except that he was an Emperor. There are some curious remains of Mecaenas's Villa, particularly the places (if they are really so) where the slaves were kept, which are just like cellars. I cannot remember seeing any apartments destined for slaves at Pompeii, but from all one sees or hears and reads of the Roman slaves, they must have been treated in a manner that it is inconceivable they should have endured, considering their numbers, and of what they were generally composed--barbarian prisoners or free citizens reduced to servitude. We ended the _giro_ at the Villa d'Este, and breakfasted on the terrace; the rest of the party then retired to sleep and play at cards at the inn, and I started with Stupendous to see the remains of an ancient city, and some specimens of Cyclopean walls, about four or five miles off. The first place is called Ventidius Bassa's, because that gentleman had a villa there, built on the ruins of a little Cyclopean town, where there are still some walls standing. From thence to Mitriano, which must have been a large town, the vestiges still covering several hills, and the remains of walls being very large; there is nothing left but a few broken fluted columns, and one flat marble stone perfect, with an inscription. This jaunt was hardly worth the trouble.

When I came back from Mitriano, I went down to the Grotto of the Syrens, from whence the view of the cascade is much finer than from the other grotto, and really grand; but the path is very slippery from the clouds of spray constantly falling over it. I did not go quite to the grotto, for Stupendous told me he had nearly slipped down the rock and cracked his crown; so I declined running that risk, but saw just as well, for I went nearly to the bottom.

At half-past four we went to Adrian's Villa, with which I was as much delighted as I was disappointed with Tivoli. Nothing can be more picturesque than the ruins, and nothing gives such an idea of the grandeur of the ancient masters of the world. They are six miles in circumference, and the remains are considerable, though not very distinct, but it is very easy to perceive that they are the ruins of a villa, or a collection of ornamental and luxurious buildings, and not of a town, which from their size they might be. Almost all the ruins of antiquity that adorn Rome were found here, or in Caracalla's Baths, which latter were supplied from this stock--all the Albani collection, most of the Museo Borbonico at Naples, and half the Vatican. The Albani collection was made by a nephew of Clement XI., the Albani Pope. They say only one-fourth has been excavated. The ruins are overgrown with ivy and all sorts of creepers. The grounds are full of pines and cypresses of great size, and it is altogether one of the most interesting and beautiful spots I have seen in Italy. The Villa Adriani now belongs to Duke Braschi, nephew of Pius VI. He has not excavated, but the truth is that there is little temptation to individuals to do so. The Government have taken all the ruins under their protection, and no proprietor is allowed to destroy any part of them. So far so good, but if he digs and finds anything, he may not sell it; the Government reserves to itself a right of pre-emption, and should he be offered a large sum by any foreigner for any object he may find, he is not allowed to take it, although the Government may not choose to buy it at the same price. They will fix a fair, but not a fancy price, but the vendor is often obliged, when they do buy it, to wait many years for his money. Albani employed 1,000 men to excavate.

We came back in a deliciously cool evening. The Duchess wanted us to keep with her carriage (she had a pair and we had four horses), for fear she should be robbed--for she had heard that somebody had been robbed somewhere a little while ago--which we promised; but our postilions set off in a gallop, we fell asleep, and they were left to their fate.

[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

_At night._--This morning as I was sitting at Torlonia's reading the newspapers, a woman came in, whom Luigi Chiaveri soon after begged to introduce to me. She was a Mrs. Kelly, of whose history I had already heard, and I told Chiaveri I would assist her if I could. She told me her case in detail. The short of it is this:-- She and her daughter (who is very pretty) got acquainted at Florence with a family of Swifts. Young Swift seeing the girl was good-looking, and hearing she was rich, made up to her, gained her affections (as they call it), and proposed to marry her. She agreed, provided her mother did. They came to Rome. Swift followed, established himself at the same inn, and wrote to the mother to propose himself. The mother declined. He wrote a second letter--same reply. He then prevailed on the girl to promise not to give him up, but failed in persuading her to elope with him. She said she would marry him when she was of age. He pressed her to give him a written promise to this effect before witnesses. After some hesitation she agreed, and one evening (having been previously appointed by him) she met him in another room, where she found a priest and two men. She signed two papers without reading them, heard a short form muttered over, which she did not understand, and then was told to run downstairs again. A few days after she got uneasy as to what had happened, and confessed it all to her mother, who immediately conceived that this was a marriage ceremony into which she had been inveigled. She told her lover what she had done, who asked her what her mother had said. She told him that her mother fancied that it was a marriage, but that she had told her it was not, when he informed her it was, and this was the first intimation he gave her of the sort, and the first time he had given her to understand that he regarded her as his wife. She reproached him with his duplicity and the imposition he had practised on her, and told him she would have no more to say to him. This took place in St. Peter's one Friday at vespers. Soon after they went to Naples, where Swift followed, and wrote to her mother saying he had married her daughter, and asking her forgiveness; that she might fancy the marriage was not valid, but she would find it was, having been celebrated by an abbé, witnessed by the nephew of a cardinal, and the certificate signed by a cardinal, with the knowledge of the Pope. She sent no answer, when he begged an interview, which she granted, and then he told her that he was a Catholic, and that her daughter had become so too, and had signed an act of abjuration of the Protestant religion. The mother and daughter, however, declined having anything to do with him, and the latter declared that she had never changed her religion at all. He then claimed her as his wife, and tried to prevail on Hill and Lushington (Sir Henry Lushington, Consul--the present Lord Berwick, Minister) to prevent their leaving Naples. They declined to interfere, and advised the mother to go home, and let the matter be settled between them in England. She took the hint and set off. He followed, and overtook them at Rome, and there, by representations to the civil and religious authorities that they were taking away his wife to prevent her being a Catholic, and make her relapse to the Protestant faith, he got them to interfere, and their passports were refused. Such is their story. They have nobody to advise, assist, or protect them.

[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

I went to La Ferronays, who was all good-nature, and said he would go with me to Cardinal Albani; but I went first to the hotel and saw the girl alone, who corroborated all her mother had said. I wrote down her evidence, and made her sign it, and then went with the Ambassador to the Cardinal in the Quirinal Palace. The door of his cabinet was locked, but after a sort of _abbé suisse_ had knocked a little he came and opened it, and in we went. He did not recollect my name the last time I saw him, nor my person this. La Ferronays explained the business, with which he was already acquainted, partly through Kestner (the Hanoverian Minister) and partly through the Roman authorities, who had given him the case of the adventurer, for such he seems to be. The Cardinal seemed disposed to do nothing (Bunsen assures me he is a very sensible man, and right-headed and well disposed), and said she was married. We said, not at all. Then he hummed and hawed, and stammered and slobbered, and talked of the 'case being in the hands of the Saint Office [the Inquisition!!] under the eyes of his Holiness. What could he do?' We fired off a tirade against the infamy of the action, said that the English tribunals ought to decide upon the validity of the marriage, that all they wanted was to go home, that the man might follow and make his claim good if he could, and that the story (if they were detained here) would make a noise in England, and would be echoed back to France by the press of both countries, and that it was very desirable to avoid such a scandal. He seemed struck with this, and said it would be best to send them off to settle their disputes at home, but that they must have patience, that time was necessary and the case must be examined. We were obliged to be contented with this, and saying we were sure the case was in good hands (which I doubt, for he would leave it there if he dared), with many scrapes and compliments we took our leave. The girl has never dared to show her face, for fear of being carried off by the lover or shut up in a convent by the Grand Inquisitor, so I tranquillised their minds and sent them out an airing. In the evening I spoke to Monsignore Spada, who has promised to help to get up a case in Italian, if it should be wanted.

Dined with M. de la Ferronays, and went to his villa (Mattei) afterwards. He has been perfect in this affair, full of prompt kindness; but what a Government! how imbecile, how superannuated!--a Minister of ninety almost, a sovereign of whom all that can be said is that he is a great canonist, and all that little bubbling and boiling of priestery and monkery, which is at once odious, mischievous, and contemptible, a sort of extinct volcano, all the stink of the sulphur without any of the splendour of the eruption. They want the French again sadly. English subjects detained by the Inquisition in 1830!! La Ferronays advised me to ask the Pope for a moment of audience, and to request him to see the girl himself, and interrogate her, and learn the truth, of the case.

I had just done writing the above when a note came from La Ferronays with the passports for the Kellys, which Albani had sent him, so I had only to thank the Cardinal instead of mentioning it to the Pope. I did not think he would have been so quick. How enchanted they will be to-morrow morning!

[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

May 29th, 1830 {p.382}