[70] Antoine Francis Gauthier des Orcieres (1752-1838) was elected to the Etats Generaux in 1789, and, in 1792, to the Convention, where he voted the death of Louis XVI. Later on, he was member of the Conseil des Anoiena, juge au tribunal de la Seine and conseiller a la cour imperiale de Paris (1815). Banished in 1816, he returned to France in 1828.
[71] Jean Baptists Michaud, a member of the Directoire du departement du Doubs, and a member of the National Convention, voted the death of Louis XVI and against the proposed appeal to the people.–ED.
[72] Jean Daniel Paul Etienne Levade (1750-1834), Protestant minister first in England, then in Amsterdam, finally minister at Lausanne and professor of theology at the _Academie_ of the same town.–ED.
[73] Countess de Boigne, in her interesting _Memoirs_ (of which there is an English translation) abstained from describing her husband’s career in India; this lends additional interest to the information collected by Major Frye,–ED.
[74] The manuscript has _Sennar_, a name quite unknown at Suza.–ED.
[75] Ariosto, _Orlando Furioso_, iv, 13, 5.–ED.
[76] This shield, now at the _Armoria Reale_, is not antique, but is ascribed to Benvenuto Cellini.–ED.
[77] This statue of Cupid is not antique, and has been recently ascribed to Michelangelo (Knapp, _Michelangelo_, p. 155.)–ED.
CHAPTER VIII
Journey from Turin to Bologna–Asti–Schiller and Alfieri–Italian _cuisine_–The _vetturini_–Marengo–Piacenza–The Trebbia–Parma–The Empress Maria Louisa–Modena–Bologna–The University–The Marescalchi Gallery–Character of the Bolognese.
August —- 1816
‘Twas on a fine morning the 16th August that I took my departure from Turin with a _vetturino_ bound to Bologna. I agreed to pay him sixty francs for my place in the coach, supper and bed. When this stipulation for supper and bed is included in the price fixed for your place with the _vetturino_, you are said to be _spesato_, and then you have nothing extra to pay for but your breakfast. There were two other travellers in the _vettura_, both Frenchmen; the one about forty years of age was a Captain of cavalry _en retraite_, married to a Hungarian lady and settled at Florence, to which place he was returning; the other, a young man of very agreeable manners, settled likewise at Florence, as chief of a manufactory there, returning from Lyons, his native city, whither he had been to see his relations. I never in my life met with two characters so diametrically opposite. The Captain was quite a _bourru_ in his manners, yet he had a sort of dry, sarcastic, satirical humour that was very diverting to those who escaped his lash. Whether he really felt the sentiments he professed, or whether he assumed them for the purpose of chiming in with the times, I cannot say, but he said he rejoiced at the fall of Napoleon. My other companion, however, expressed great regret as his downfall, not so much from a regard for the person of Napoleon, as for the concomitant degradation and conquest of his country, and he spoke of the affairs of France with a great deal of feeling and patriotism.
The Captain seemed to have little or no feeling for anybody but himself; indeed, he laughed at all sentiment and said he did not believe in virtue or disinterestedness. When, among other topics of conversation, the loss the French Army sustained at Waterloo was brought on the _tapis_, he said, “_Eh bien! qu ‘importe? dans une seule nuit a Paris on en fabriquera assez pour les remplacer!_” A similar sentiment has been attributed to the great Conde.[78] We had a variety of amusing arguments and disputes on the road; the Captain railed at merchants, and said that he did not believe that honor or virtue existed among mercantile people (no compliment, by the bye, to the young fabricant, who bore it, however, with great good humour, contenting himself with now and then giving a few slaps at the military for their rapacity, which mercantile people on the Continent have now and then felt, before the French Revolution, as well as after). The whole road from Turin to Alexandria della Paglia is a fine broad _chausee_. The first day’s journey brought us to Asti. A rich plain on each side of the road, the horizon on our right bounded by the Appennines, on our left by the Alps, both diverging, formed the landscape. Asti is an ancient, well and solidly built city, but rather gloomy in its appearance. It is remarkable for being the birthplace of Vittorio Alfieri, the celebrated tragic poet, who has excelled all other dramatic poets in the general _denouement_ of his pieces, except, perhaps, Voltaire alone. I do not speak of Alfleri so much as a poet as a _dramaturgus_. I may be mistaken, and it is, perhaps, presumptuous in me to attempt to judge, but it has always appeared to me that Voltaire and Alfieri have managed dramatic effect and the intrigue and catastrophe of their tragedies better than any other authors. Shakespeare, God as he is in genius, is in this particular very deficient. Schiller, too, the greatest modern poetic genius perhaps and the Shakespeare of Germany, has here failed also, and nothing can be more correct than the estimate of Alfieri made by Forsyth[79] when, after speaking of his defects, he says: “Yet where lives the tragic poet equal to Alfieri? Schiller (then living also) may perhaps excel him in those peals of terror which flash thro’ his gloomy and tempestuous scene, but he is far inferior in the mechanism of his drama.”
To return to my first day’s journey from Turin. It was a very long day’s work, and we did not arrive at Asti till very late, after having performed the last hour, half in the dark, on a road which is by no means in good repute. The character of the lower class of Piedmontese is not good. They are ferocious, vindictive and great marauders. They make excellent soldiers during war and they not unfrequently, on being disbanded after peace, by way of keeping their hand in practise and of having the image of war before their eyes, ease the traveller of his coin and sometimes of his life. Our conversation partook of these reminiscences, and during the latter part of our journey turned entirely on bandits “force and guile,” so that we were quite rejoiced at seeing the smoke and light of the town of Asti and hearing the dogs bark, which reminded me of Ariosto’s lines:
Non molto va che dalle vie supreme
De’ tetti uscir vede il vapor del fuoco Sente cani abbajar, muggire armento,
Viene alla villa, e piglia alloggiamenti.[80]
Nor far the warrior had pursued his best, Ere, eddying from a roof, he saw the smoke, Heard noise of dog and kine, a farm espied, And thitherward in quest of lodging hied.
–_Trans_. W.S. ROSE.
We met on alighting at the door of a large spacious inn, two ladies who had very much the appearance of the two damsels at the inn where Don Quixote alighted and received his order of knighthood; but, in spite of their amorous glances and a decided leer of invitation, I had like Sacripante’s steed more need of “_riposo e d’esca che di nuova giostra_.” The usual Italian supper was put before us, and very good it was, viz., _Imprimis: A minestra_ (soup), generally made of beef or veal with vermicelli or macaroni in it and its never failing accompaniment in Italy, grated Parmesan cheese. Then a _lesso_ (bouilli) of beef, veal or mutton, or all three; next an _umido_ (fricassee) of cocks’ combs and livers, a favourite Italian dish; then a _frittura_ of chickens’ livers, fish or vegetables fried. Then an _umido_ or ragout of veal, fish with sauce; and lastly, an arrosto (roast) of fowls, veal, game, or all three. The _arrosto_ is generally very dry and done to cinders almost. Vegetables are served up With the _umidi_, but plain boiled, leaving it optional to you to use melted butter or oil with them. A salad is a constant concomitant of the _arrosto_. A desert or fruit concludes the repast. Wine is drank at discretion. The wine of Lombardy is light and not ill flavored; it is far weaker than any wine I know of, but it has an excellent quality, that of facilitating digestion. A cup of strong coffee is generally made for you in the morning, for which you pay three or four _soldi_ (sous), and in giving five or six _soldi_ to the waiter, all your expenses are paid supposing you are _spesato_, i.e., that the _vetturino_ pays for your supper and bed; if not, your charges are left to the conscience of the aubergiste, which in Italy is in general of prodigious width. I therefore advise every traveller who goes with a _vetturino_ to be a spesato, otherwise he will have to pay four or five times as much and not be a whit better regaled. The _vetturini_ generally pay from three to three and a half francs for the supper and bed of their passengers. As the _vetturini_ invariably make a halt of an hour and half or two hours at mid-day in some town or village, this halt enables you to take your _dejeuner a la fourchette_, which you pay for yourself, unless you stipulate for the payment of that also with the _vetturino_ by paying something more, say one a half franc per diem for that. In this part, and indeed in the whole of the north of Italy not a female servant is to be seen at the inns and men make the beds. It is otherwise, I understand, in Tuscany.
The whole appearance of the country from Asti to Alexandria presents an immense plain extremely fertile, but the crops of corn being off the ground, the landscape would not be pleasing to the eye, were it not relieved by the frequency of mulberry trees and the vines hung in festoons from tree to tree. The villages and farmhouses on this road are extremely solid and well built. We arrived at Alexandria about twelve o’clock, and after breakfast I hired a horse to visit the field of battle of Marengo, which is in the neighbourhood of this city, Marengo itself being a village five miles distant from Alexandria. Arrived on the plain, I was conducted to the spot where the first Consul stood at the time that he perceived the approach of Desaix’s division. I figured to myself the first Consul on his white charger, halting his army, then in some confusion, riding along the line exposed to a heavy fire from the Austrians, who cannonaded the whole length of the line; aides-de-camp and orderlies falling around him, himself calm and collected, “spying ‘vantage,” and observing that the Austrian deployment was too extended, and their centre thereby weakened, suddenly profiting of this circumstance to order Desaix’s division to advance and lead the charge which decided the victory on that memorable day, which, according to Mascheroni:
_splende
Nell’ abisso de’ secoli, qual Sole_.
The whole field of battle is an extensive plain, with but few trees, and to use Campbell’s lines:
every turf beneath the feet
Marks out a soldier’s sepulchre.
The Column, erected to commemorate this glorious victory, has been thrown down by order of the Austrian government–a poor piece of puerile spite, but worthy of legitimacy. Alexandria is, or rather _was_, for the fortifications no longer exist, more remarkable for being an important military post than for the beauty of the city itself. There is, however, a fine and spacious _Place_, which serves as a parade for the garrison, and being planted with trees by the French when they held it, forms an agreeable promenade. The fortifications were blown up by the Austrians before the place was given over to the Sardinian authorities, a flagrant breach of faith and contract, since by the treaty of 1814 they were bound to give up all the fortified places that were restored or ceded to the King of Sardinia in the same state in which they were found when the French evacuated them, and the Austrians took possession provisorily. The French regarding (and with reason) this fortress as the key of Lombardy always kept the fortifications in good repair and well provided with cannon. But the Austrian government, knowing itself to be unpopular in Italy and trembling for the safety of her dominions, being always fearful that the Piedmontese Government might one day be induced to favour an insurrectionary or national movement in the north of Italy, determined, finding that it could not keep the fortress for itself, which it strove hard to do under divers pretexts, to render it of as little use as they possibly could do to the King of Sardinia; so they blew up the fortifications and carried off the cannon, leaving the King without a single fortified place in the whole of his Italian dominions to defend himself, in case of attack, against an Austrian invasion.
On the morning of the 15th August we passed thro’ Tortona, now no longer a fortress of consequence. All this country may be considered as classic ground, immortalized by the campaigns of Napoleon, when commander in chief of the army of the French Republic in Italy, a far greater and more illustrious _role_ than when he assumed the Imperial bauble and condescended to mix with the vulgar herd of Kings.
We arrived at Voghera to breakfast and at Casteggio at night. The country is much the same as that which we have already passed thro’, being a plain, with a rich alluvial soil, mulberry trees and a number of solidly built stone farmhouses. The next morning at eleven o’clock we arrived at Piacenza on the Po, and were detained a quarter of an hour at the _Douane_ of Her Majesty the Archduchess, as Maria Louisa, the present Duchess of Parma, is stiled, we being now arrived in her dominions. We drove to the _Hotel di San Marco_, which is close to the _Piazza Grande_, and alighted there. On the Piazza stands the _Hotel de Ville_, and in front of it are two equestrian statues in bronze of the Princes Farnesi; the statues, however, of the riders appear much too small in proportion with the horses, and they resemble two little boys mounted on Lincolnshire carthorses.
I did not visit the churches and palaces in this city from not having time and, besides, I did not feel myself inclined or _bound_ (as some travellers think themselves) to visit every church and every town in Italy. I really believe the _ciceroni_ think that we _Ultramontani_ live in mud hovels in our own country, and that we have never seen a stone edifice, till our arrival in Italy, for every town house which is not a shop is termed a _palazzo_, and they would conduct you to see all of them if you would be guided by them. I had an opportunity, during the two hours we halted here, of walking over the greater part of the city, after a hasty breakfast. Piacenza is a large handsome city; among the females that I saw in the streets the Spanish costume seems very prevalent, no doubt from being so long governed by a Spanish family.
On leaving Piacenza we passed thro’ a rich meadow country and met with an immense quantity of cattle grazing. The road is a fine broad _chaussee_ considerably elevated above the level of the fields and is lined with poplars. Where this land is not in pasture, cornfields and mulberry trees, with vines in festoons, vary the landscape, which is additionally enlivened by frequent _maisons de plaisance_ and excellently built farmhouses. We passed thro’ Firenzuola, a long well-built village, or rather _bourg_, and we brought to the night at Borgo San Donino. At this place I found the first bad inn I have met with in Italy, that is, the house, tho’ large, was so out of repair as to be almost a _masure_; we however met with tolerably good fare for supper. We fell in with a traveller at Borgo San Donino, who related to us an account of an extraordinary robbery that had been committed a few months before near this place, in which the _then_ host was implicated, or rather was the author and planner of the robbery. It happened as follows. A Swiss merchant, one of those men who cannot keep their own counsel, a _bavard_ in short, was travelling from Milan to Bologna with his cabriolet, horse and a large portmanteau. He put up at this inn. At supper he entered into conversation with mine host, and asked if there was any danger of robbers on the road, for that he should be sorry (he said) to fall into their hands, inasmuch as he had with him in his portmanteau 24,000 franks in gold and several valuable articles of jewellery. Mine host assured him that there was not the slightest danger. The merchant went to bed, directing that he should be awakened at daybreak in order to proceed on his journey. Mine host, however, took care to have him called full an hour and half before daybreak, assuring him that light would soon dawn. The merchant set out, but he had hardly journeyed two miles when a shot from behind a hedge by the road side brought his horse to the ground. Four men in masks rushed up, seized him and bound him to a tree; they then rifled his portmanteau, took out his money and jewels and wished him good morning.
Before we arrived at Borgo San Donino we crossed the Trebbia, one of the many tributary streams of the Po, and which is famous for two celebrated battles, one in ancient, the other in modern tunes (and probably many others which I do not recollect); but here it was that Hannibal gained his second victory over the Romans; and here, in 1799, the Russians under Souvoroff defeated the French under Macdonald after an obstinate and sanguinary conflict; but they could not prevent Macdonald from effecting his junction with Massena, to hinder which was Souvoroff’s object. In fact, in this country, to what reflections doth every spot of ground we pass, over, give rise! Every field, every river has been the theatre of some battle or other memorable event either in ancient or modern times.
_Quis gurges aut quae flumina lugubris Ignara belli?[81]_
We started from Borgo San Donino next morning; about ten miles further on the right hand side of the road stands an ancient Gothic fortress called Castel Guelfo. Between this place and Parma there is a very troublesome river to pass called the Taro, which at times is nearly dry and at other times, so deep as to render it hazardous for a carriage to pass, and it is at all times requisite to send on a man to ford and sound it before a carriage passes. This river fills a variety of separate beds, as it meanders very much, and it extends to such a breadth in its _debordements_, as to render it impossible to construct a bridge long enough to be of any use.
This, however, being the dry season, we passed it without difficulty. Two or three other streams on this route, _seguaci del Po_, are crossed in the same manner.
The road to Parma, after passing the Taro, lies nearly in a right line and is bordered with poplars. If I am not mistaken, it was somewhere in this neighbourhood that the Carthaginians under Hannibal suffered a great loss in elephants, who died from cold, being incamped during the winter. I am told there is not a colder country in Europe than Lombardy during the winter season, which arises no doubt from its vicinity to the Alps.
Opulence seems to prevail in all the villages in the vicinity of Parma, and an immense quantity of cattle is seen grazing in the meadows on each side of the road. The female peasantry wear the Spanish costume and are remarkably well dressed.
We arrived at Parma at twelve o’clock and stopped there three hours.
PARMA.
After a hasty breakfast, Mr G– and myself sallied forth to see what was possible during the time we stopped in this city, leaving the Captain, who refused to accompany us, to smoke his pipe. This city is very large and there is a very fine _Piazza._ The streets are broad, the buildings handsome and imposing, and there is a general appearance of opulence. We first proceeded to visit the celebrated amphitheatre, called _l’Amfiteatro Farnese_ in honour of the former sovereigns of the Duchy. It is a vast building and unites the conveniences both of the ancient and modern theatres. It has a roof like a modern theatre, and the seats in the _parterre_ are arranged like the seats in an ancient Greek theatre. Above this are what we should call boxes, and above them again what we usually term a gallery. A vast and deep arena lies between the _parterre_ and the orchestra and fills up the space between the audience and the _proscenium_. It is admirably adapted both for spectators and hearers; when a tragedy, comedy or opera is acted, a scaffolding is erected and seats placed in the arena. At other times the arena is made use of for equestrian exercises and chariot races in the style of the ancients, combats with wild beasts, etc., or it may be filled with water for the representation of naval fights (_naumachia_); in this case you have a vast oval lake between the spectators and the stage. It is a great pity that this superb and interesting building is not kept in good repair; the fact is it is seldom or ever made use of except on very particular occasions: it is almost useless in a place like Parma, “so fallen from its high estate,” but were such an amphitheatre in Paris, London, or any great city, it might be used for all kinds of _spectacles_ and amusements. A small theatre from the design of Bernino stands close to this amphitheatre, and is built in a light tasteful manner. If fresh painted and lighted up it would make a very brilliant appearance. This may be considered as the Court theatre. At a short distance from the theatres is the Museum of Parma, in which there is a well chosen gallery of pictures. Among the most striking pictures of the old school is without doubt that of St Jerome by Correggio; but I was full as much, dare I be so heretical as to say more pleased, with the productions of the modern school of Parma. A distribution of prizes had lately been made by the Empress Maria Louisa, and there were many paintings, models of sculpture and architectural designs, that did infinite credit to the young artists. I remarked one painting in particular which is worthy of a Fuseli. It represented the battle of the river God Scamander with Achilles. The subjects of most of the paintings I saw here were taken from the mythology or from ancient and modern history; and this is perhaps the reason that they pleased me more than those of the ancient masters. Why in the name of the [Greek: to kalon] did these painters confine themselves so much to Madonnas, Crucifixions, and Martyrdoms, when their own poets, Ariosto and Tasso, present so many subjects infinitely more pleasing? Then, again, in many of these crucifixions and martyrdoms, the gross anachronisms, such as introducing monks and soldiers with match-locks and women in Gothic costume at the crucifixion, totally destroy the seriousness and interest of the subject by annihilating all illusion and exciting risibility.
Parma will ever be renowned in history as the birthplace of Caius Cassius, the Mend and colleague of Brutus.
The Empress Maria Louisa lives here in the Ducal Palace, which is a spacious but ornamental edifice. She lives, ’tis said, without any ostentation. Out of her own states, her presence in Italy would be attended with unpleasant consequences to the powers that be, on account of the attachment borne to Napoleon by all classes of society; and it is on this account that on her last visit to Bologna she received an intimation from the papal authorities to quit the Roman territory in twenty-four hours. We next passed thro’ St Hilario and Reggio and brought to the evening at the village of Rubbiera. At St Hilario is the entrance into the Duke of Modena’s territory, and here we underwent again &n examination of trunks, as we did both on entering and leaving the territory of Maria Louisa.
Reggio is a large walled city, but I had only time to visit the Cathedral and to remark therein a fine picture of the Virgin and the Chapel called “Capella della Morte.” Reggio pretends to the honour of having given birth to the Divine Ariosto:
Quel grande che canto l’armi e gli amorl,
as Guarini describes him, I believe. The face of the country from Parma to Reggio is exactly the same as what we have passed thro’ already.
The next day (20 August) we passed thro’ Modena, where we stopped to breakfast and refresh horses. It is a large and handsome city, the Ducal Palace is striking and in the Cathedral is presented the famous bucket which gave rise to the poem of Tassoni called _La Secchia rapita._ An air of opulence and grandeur seems to prevail in Modena.
At Samoggia we entered the Papal territory and again underwent a search of trunks. Within three miles of Bologna a number of villas and several tanneries, which send forth a most intolerable odour, announce the approach to that celebrated and venerable city. On the left hand side, before entering the town, is a superb portico with arcades, about one and a half miles in length, which leads from the city to the church of San Luca. On the right are the Appennines, towering gradually above you. Bologna lies at the foot of these mountains on the eastern side and here the plain ends for those who are bound to Florence, which lies on the western side of the vast ridge which divides Italy. We arrived at Bologna at half-past seven in the evening, and here we intend to repose a day or two; I shall then cross the Appennines for the first time in my life. A reinforcement of mules or oxen is required for every carriage; from the ascent the whole way you can travel, I understand, very little quicker _en poste_ than with a _vetturino_. We are lodged at Bologna in a very comfortable inn called _Locanda d’Inghilterra_.
BOLOGNA, 22d August.
The great popularity of Bologna, which is a very large and handsomely built city, lies in the colonnaded porticos and arcades on each side of the streets throughout the whole city. These arcades are mightily convenient against sun and rain, and contradict the assertion of Rousseau, who asserted that England was the only country in the world where the safety of foot passengers is consulted, whereas here in Bologna not only are _trottoirs_ broader than those of London in general, but you are effectually protected against sun and rain, and are not obliged to carry an umbrella about with you perpetually as in London. This arcade system, is, however, rather a take off from the beauty of the city, and gives it a gloomy heavy appearance, which is not diminished by the sight of friars and mendicants with which this place swarms, and announce to you that you are in the holy land. At Bologna it is necessary to have a sharp eye on your baggage, on account of the crowds of ragged _faineans_ that surround your carriage while it is unloading.
The first thing that the _ciceroni_ generally take you to see in Italy are the churches, and mine would not probably have spared me one, but I was more anxious to see the University. I however allowed him to lead me into two of the principal churches, viz., the _Duomo_ or Cathedral, and the church of San Petronio, both magnificent Gothic temples and worth the attention of the traveller. On the _Piazza del Gigante_ is a fine bronze statue of Neptune. The _Piazza_ takes its name from this statue, as at one time in Italy, after the introduction of Christianity and when the ancient mythology was totally forgotten, the statues of the Gods were called Giants or named after Devils and their prototypes believed to be such.
In the Museum at the University is an admirable collection of fossils, minerals, and machines in every branch of science. There are some excellent pictures also; the University of Bologna was, you know, at all times famous and its celebrity, is not at all diminished, for I believe Bologna boasts more scientific men, and particularly in the sciences _positives_, than any other city in Italy.
In the _Palazzo pubblico_ (_Hotel de Ville_) is a Christ and a Samson by Guido Reni; but what pleased me most in the way of painting was the collection in the gallery of Count Marescalchi. The Count has been at great pains to form it and has shown great taste and discernment. It is a small but unique collection. Here is to be seen a head of Christ, the colouring of which is so brilliant as to illuminate the room in which it is appended, when the shutters are closed, and in the absence of all other light except what appears thro’ the crevices of the window shutters. This head, however, does not seem characteristic of Christ; it wants the gravity, the soft melancholy and unassuming meekness of the _great Reformer_: in short, from the vivid fire of the eyes and the too great self-complacency of the countenance, it gave me rather the idea
Del biondo Dio che in Tessalia si adora.
I passed two hours in this cabinet. I next repaired to the centre of the city with the intention of ascending one at least of the two square towers or _campanili_ which stand close together, one of which is _strait_, the other a leaning one. _Garisendi_ is the name of the leaning tower, and it forms a parallelipipedon of 140 feet in height and about twenty feet in breath and length. It leans so much as to form an angle of seventy-five degrees with the ground on which it stands. The other tower, the strait one, is called _Asinelli_ and is a parallelipipedon of 310 feet in height and about twenty-five feet in length and breadth. I ascended the leaning tower, but I found the fatigue so great that I was scarcely repaid by the fine view of the surrounding country, which presents on one side an immense plain covered with towns, villages and villas, and on the other the Appennines towering one above another. When on the top of _Garisendi_, _Asinelli_ appears to be four times higher than its neighbour, and the bare aspect of its enormous height deterred me from even making the attempt of ascending it. When viewed or rather looked down upon from _Garisendi_, Bologna, from its being of an elliptical form and surrounded by a wall and from having these two enormous towers in the centre, resembles a boat with masts.
From the great celebrity of its University and the eminent men it has produced, Bologna is considered as the most litterary city of Italy. Galvani was born in Bologna and studied at this University, and among the modern prodigies is a young lady who is professor of Greek and who is by all accounts the most amiable _Bas bleu_ that ever existed.[82] The Bolognese are a remarkably fine, intelligent and robust race of people, and are renowned for their republican spirit, and the energy with which they at all times resisted the encroachments of the Holy See. Bologna was at one time a Republic, and on their coins is the word Libertas. The Bolognese never liked the Papal government and were much exasperated at returning under the domination of the Holy Father. In the time of Napoleon, Bologna formed part of the _Regno d’ltalia_ and partook of all its advantages. Napoleon is much regretted by them; and so impatiently did the inhabitants bear the change, on the dismemberment of the kingdom of Italy, and their transfer to the pontifical sceptre, that on Murat’s entry in their city in 1815 the students and other young men of the town flew to arms and in a few hours organised three battalions. Had the other cities shown equal energy and republican spirit, the revolution would have been completed and Italy free; but the fact is that the Italians in general, tho’ discontented, had no very high opinion of Murat’s talents as a political character, and he besides _committed_ a great fault in not entering Rome on his march and revolutionising it. Murat, like most men, was ruined by half-measures. The last tune that Maria Louisa was here the people surrounded the inn where she resided and hailed her with cries of _Viva I’Imperatrice!_ The Pope’s legate in consequence intimated to her the expediency of her immediate departure from the city, with a request that she would not repeat her visit. Bologna is considered by the Ultras, _Obscuranten,_ and _Eteignoirs_ as the focus and headquarters of Carbonarism.
In the evening I visited the theatre built by Bibbiena and had the pleasure of hearing for the first time an Italian tragedy, which, however, are now rarely represented and scarcely ever well acted. This night’s performance formed an exception and was satisfactory. The piece was _Romeo and Giulietta_. The actress who did the part of Giulietta performed it with great effect, particularly in the tomb scene. In this scene she reminded me forcibly of our own excellent actress, Miss O’Neill. This was the only part of the play that had any resemblance to the tragedy of Shakespeare. All the rest was on the French model. I saw a number of beautiful women in the boxes. The Bolognese women are remarkable for their fine complexions; those that I saw were much inclined to _embonpoint_.
[79] And also to Napoleon, after the battle at Eylau.–ED.
[80] Joseph Forsyth (1763-1815), author of _Remarks on antiquities, arts and letters in Italy_, London, 1813.–ED.
[81] Horace, _Carm._, II, I, 33.–ED.
[82] The young woman in question was Clotilda Tambroni (1768-1818). She taught Greek at the University of Bologna and was in correspondence with the great French scholar Ansse de Villoison.–ED.
CHAPTER IX
Journey across the Appennines to Florence–Tuscan idioms and customs–Monuments and galleries at Florence–The Cascino–Churches– Theatres–Popularity of the Grand Duke–Napoleon’s downfall not regretted–Academies in Florence.
FLORENCE, 26th August.
The moment you leave Bologna to go to Florence you enter the gorges of the Appennines, and after journeying seven miles, begin to ascend the ridge. The ascent begins at Pianoro. Among these mountains the scenery is wild and romantic, and tho’ not so grandiose and sublime as that of the Alps, is nevertheless extremely picturesque. One meets occasionally with the ruins of old castles on some of the heights, and I was strongly reminded, at the sight of these antique edifices, of the mysteries of Udolpho and the times of the Condottieri. The silence that reigns here is only interrupted by the noise of the waterfall and the occasional scream of the eagle. The wild abrupt transition of landscape would suggest the idea of haunting places for robbers, yet one seldom or never hears of any, on this road. In Tuscany there is, I understand, so much industry and morality, that a robbery is a thing unknown; but in his Holiness’s dominions, from the idleness and poverty that prevails, they are said to be frequent. Why it does not occur in these mountains, in that part of them, at least, which belongs to the Papal Government, I am at a loss to conceive.
Here the chesnut and olive trees salute the Ultramontane traveller for the first time. The olive tree, tho’ a most useful, is not an ornamental one, as it resembles a willow or osier in its trunk and in the colour of its leaves. The chesnut tree is a glorious plant for an indolent people, since it furnishes food without labour, as the Xaca or Jack fruit tree does to the Cingalese in Ceylon. On one of the heights between Pianoro and Lojano you have in very clear weather a view of both the Adriatic and Tyrrhene seas. We brought to the night at Scarica l’Asino and the next morning early we entered the Tuscan territory at Pietra Mala, where there is a _Douane_ and consequently an examination of trunks. At one o’clock we arrived at an inn called _Le Maschere_, about fifteen miles distance from Florence; it is a large mansion and being situated on an eminence commands an extensive view. One becomes soon aware of being in the Tuscan territory from the number of cultivated spots to be seen in this part of the Appennines: for such is the industry of the inhabitants that they do wonders on their naturally sterile soil. One sees a number of farms. Every spot of ground is in cultivation, between _Le Maschere_ and Florence in particular; these spots of ground, gardens, orchards and villas forming a striking and pleasing contrast with the wild and dreary scenery of the Appennines. Another thing that indicates one’s arrival among the Tuscans is their aspiration of the letter _c_ before _a_, _o_ and _u_, which is at first extremely puzzling to a foreigner accustomed only to the Roman pronunciation. For instance, instead of _camera_, _cotto_, _curvo_, they pronounce these words _hamera_, _hotto_, and _hurvo_ with an exceeding strong aspiration of the _h_. It is the same too with the _ch_ which they aspirate, _ex gr._ instead of _pochino_, _chiave_, they say _pohino_, _hiave_. The language however which is spoken is the most classical and pure Italian and except the above mentioned aspiration it is delightful to the ear; peculiarly so to those who come from the north of Italy, and have only hitherto heard the unpleasing nasal twang of the Milanese and the exceeding uncouth barbarous dialect of Bologna. Another striking peculiarity is the smart appearance of the Tuscan peasantry. They are a remarkably handsome race of men; the females unite with their natural beauty a grace and elegance that one is quite astonished to find among peasants. They express themselves in the most correct and classical language and they have a great deal of repartee. As the peasantry of Tuscany enjoy a greater share of _aisance_ than falls to the lot of those of any other country, and as the females dress with taste and take great pains to appear smart on all occasions, they resemble rather the shepherdesses on the Opera stage or those of the fabled Arcadia than anything in real life. The females too are remarkably industrious and will work like horses all the week to gain wherewithal to appear smart on holidays. Their dress is very becoming, and they wear sometimes jewellery to a large amount on their persons; a very common ornament among them is a collar of gold around their necks. Their usual head-dress is either a white straw hat, or a black round beaver hat, with black ostrich feathers. I prefer the straw hat; it is more tasteful than the round hat which always seems to me too masculine for a woman. At the inn at _Le Maschere_ we were waited on by three smart females. The whole road from _Le Maschere_ to Florence is very beautiful and diversified. Vineyards, gardens, farm houses and villas thicken as one approaches and when arrived within three miles of Florence, which lies in a basin surrounded by mountains, one is quite bewildered at the sight of the quantity of beautiful villas and _maisons de plaisance_ in every direction.
Every thing indicates life, industry and comfort in this charming country. We stopped at a villa belonging to the Grand Duke called _II Pratolino_, seven miles distant from Florence. Here is to be seen the famous statue representing the genius of the Appennines. The Villa is unfurnished and out of repair and the garden and grounds are neglected: it is a great pity, for it is a fine building and in a beautiful position. The celebrated Bianca Capello, a Venetian by birth, and mistress of Francesco II de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, used to reside here.
FLORENCE, 27th August.
I am extremely well pleased with my accommodations at the hotel where I am lodged. Mme Hembert, the proprietor, was once _femme de chambre_ to the Empress Josephine; she is an excellent woman and a very attentive hostess, and I recommend her hotel to all those travellers who visit Florence and do not care to incur the expence of Schneider’s. There is an excellent and well served _table d’hote_ at two o’clock, wine at discretion, for which, and for my bedroom, I pay seven _paoli_ per day. This hotel has the advantage of being in a very central situation. It is close to the _Piazza del Gran Duca_, the post-office, the _Palazzo Vecchio_, the Bureaux of Government, the celebrated Gallery of Sculpture and Painting and to the Arno. It is only 300 yards from the _Piazza del Duomo_, where the Cathedral stands, and 600 yards from the principal theatre _Della Pergola_ on the one side; while on the other side, after crossing the _Ponte Vecchio_, stands the _Palazzo Pitti_, the residence of the Grand Duke, at a distance of seven or 800 yards.
The _Piazza del Gran Duca_ is very striking to the eye of the northern traveller; the statues of the Gods in white marble in the open air would make him fancy himself in Athens in the olden time. The following statues in bronze and white marble are to be seen on this _Piazza_. In bronze are: a statue of Perseus by Cellini; Judith with the head of Holofernes by Donatello; David and Goliath; Samson. In white marble are the following beautiful statues: a group representing Hercules and Cacus; another representing a Roman carrying off a Sabine woman. The Hercules, who is in the act of strangling Cacus, rests on one leg. Nearly in the centre of the _Piazza_, opposite to the post office and in front of the _Palazzo Vecchio_, is the principal ornament of the _Piazza_, which consists of a group representing Neptune in his car or conch (or shell) drawn by sea-horses and accompanied by Tritons. The statue of Neptune is of colossal size, the whole group is in marble and the conch of Egyptian granite. This group forms a fountain. There is likewise on this _Piazza_ an immense equestrian statue in bronze of Cosmo the First by John of Bologna. The _Palazzo Vecchio_ is a large Gothic building by Arnulpho and has a very lofty square tower or _campanile_.
The Gallery of Florence being so close to my abode demanded next my attention. The building in which this invaluable Museum is preserved forms three sides of a parallelogram, two long ones and one short one, of which the side towards the south of the quai of the Arno is the short one.
On the north is an open space communicating with the _Piazza del Gran Duca_. The Gallery occupies the whole first floor of this vast building. The _rez de chaussee_ is occupied, on the west side, by the bureaux of Government, and on the south and east sides by shopkeepers, in whose shops is always to be seen a brilliant display of merchandize. As there are arcades on the three sides of this parallelogram, they form the favorite meridian promenade of the _belles_ and _beaux_ of Florence, particularly on Sundays and holidays, after coming out of Church. I ascended the steps from a door on the east side of the building, to visit the Gallery.
The quantity and variety of objects of art, of the greatest value, baffle all description, and it would require months and years to attempt an analysis of all it contains. I shall therefore content myself with pointing out those objects which imprinted themselves the most forcibly on my imagination and recollection. In a chamber on the left hand of one wing of the Gallery stands the Venus de’ Medici, sent back last year from France. In the same chamber with her are the following statues: the extremely beautiful _Apollino_; the spotted Faun; the _Remouleur_ or figure which is in the act of whetting a sickle. All these were in Paris, and are now restored to this Gallery. In this chamber two pictures struck me in particular: the one the Venus of Titian, a most voluptuous figure; the other a portrait of the mistress of Rafaello, called “_La Fornarina_,” from her being a baker’s daughter.
Returning to the Gallery I was quite bewildered at the immense number of statues, pictures, sarcophagi, busts, altars, etc. Among the pieces of sculpture those that most caught my attention were: the _Venus genetrix_ (which I had seen before at Paris); the _Venus victrix_; the _Venus Anadyomene_; Hercules and Nessus, a superb groupe; a young Bacchus; and an exquisitely chiselled group representing Pan teaching Olympus to play the syrinx, tho’ the attitude of the former is rather indecorous from not being in a very quiescent state; a fine statue of Leda with the swan; a Mercury, both worthy of great attention. I remarked also in particular a statue of Marsyas attached to a tree and flayed. It is of a pale reddish marble, and tho’ I perfectly agree with Forsyth, that colored marble is not at all adapted to statuary, yet in this instance it gives a wonderful effect and is strikingly suitable, as the slight reddish colour gives a full idea of the flesh after the skin is torn off. It makes one shudder to look at it. In one of the halls are the statues of Niobe and her daughters, a beautiful group. Then there is the celebrated copy of the group of the Laocoon by Bandinelli, which none but the most perfect and skilful connoisseur could distinguish from the original. But it is totally impossible for me to describe the immense variety of paintings, historical, portrait and landscape; the statues single or in groups; the sarcophagi, altars, bas-reliefs, inscriptions, bronzes, medals, vases, baths, candelabra, cameos, Etruscan and Egyptian idols with which this admirable Museum is filled. In a line on each side of the Gallery near the ceiling is a succession of portraits in chronological order of the Grand Dukes of Tuscany, the Germanic Emperors, the Kings of France, of England, of Spain, of Portugal, of the Popes and of the Ottoman Emperors. Among the antiquities I particularly noticed a large steel mirror and a Roman Eagle in bronze of the 24th Legion.
Having passed full four hours in this Museum, I descended the steps, crossed the Arno and repaired to the building in which is preserved the _Cabinet d’Histoire Naturelle_. In this Museum what is most remarkable are the imitations in wax of the whole anatomy of the human body. It is the first collection of its kind; indeed it is unique in Europe. These imitations are kept in glass cases and are so true and so perfectly correct as to leave nothing to desire to the student in anatomy. These imitations in wax not only include all the details of anatomy, but also the progress of generation, gestation, and of almost every malady to which the human body is liable. They are of a frightful exactitude. There are likewise in this Museum imitations in wax of various plants and shrubs exotic as well as indigenous and the collection of stuffed birds, beasts and fishes and that of insects, mineralogy and conchology scarcely yields to the collection at the _Jardin des Plantes_ at Paris. Neither here nor at the Florentine gallery are fees allowed to be taken; on the contrary a strict prohibition of them is posted up in the French, Italian, German and English languages.
On the _Ponte Vecchio_ on each side are jewellers’ shops, who sell besides jewellery, cameos and works in mosaic. The Quais on each side of the Arno are very broad and spacious and form agreeable promenades in the winter season. The buildings on the banks of the Arno are magnificent. The streets of Florence have this peculiarity that they are all paved with large flag stones, which makes them mightily pleasant for pedestrians, but dangerous at times for horses who are apt to slip. Most of the houses in Florence have walls of prodigious thickness; one would suppose each house was meant to be a fortress in case of necessity.
FLORENCE, 29th August.
On the other side of the Arno, a little beyond the _Cabinet Physique_ and Museum of Natural History stands the _Palazzo Pitti_, the residence of the Grand Duke. It is a vast building and has a large and choice collection of pictures; but its finest ornament in my opinion is the statue of Venus by Canova, which to me at least appears to equal the Medicean Venus in beauty and in grace. The magnificent and spacious garden belonging to the Palace is called the garden of Boboli. These gardens form the grand promenade of the Florentines on Sundays and holidays. The alleys are well shaded by trees, which effectually protect the promenaders from the rays of the sun. There are a great many statues in this garden, but the most striking is a group which lies nearly in the centre of the garden. It is environed by a large circular basin or lake lined with stone and planted with orange trees on the whole circumference. In the centre of the lake is a rock and on this rock is a colossal statue in white marble of Neptune in his car. The car is in the shape of a marine conch and serves as a basin and fountain at the same time. There are several other fountains and _jets d’eau_, among which is a group representing Adam and Eve and the statue of a man pouring out water from a vase which he has on his shoulder.
The _Corso_ or grand evening promenade for carriages and equestrians is on a place called the Cascino, pronounced by the Florentines _Hascino_. The Cascino consists of pleasure grounds on the banks of the Arno outside the town, laid out in roads, alleys and walks for carriages, equestrians and pedestrians. There is a very brilliant display of carriages every evening. There are _restaurants_ on the Cascino and supper parties are often formed here. This place is often the scene of curious adventures. Cicisbeism is universal at Florence, tho’ far from being always criminal, as is generally supposed by foreigners. I find the Florentine women very graceful and many very handsome; but in point of beauty the female peasantry far exceed the _noblesse_ and burghers. All of them however dress with taste. The handsomest woman in Florence is the wife of an apothecary who lives in the _Piazza del Duomo_ and she has a host of admirers.
On the promenade _lungo l’Arno_ near the Cascino is a fountain with a statue of Pegasus, with an inscription in Italian verse purporting that Pegasus having stopped there one day to refresh himself at this fountain, found the place so pleasant that he remained there ever since. This is a poetic nation _par excellence_. _Affiches_ are announced in sonnets and other metres; and tho’ in other countries the votaries of the Muses are but too apt to neglect the ordinary and vulgar concerns of life, yet here it by no means diminishes industry, and the nine Ladies are on the best possible terms with Mr Mercury.
I shall not attempt a description of the various _palazzi_ and churches of Florence, tho’ I have visited, thanks to the zeal and importunity of my _cicerone_, nearly all, except to remark that no one church in Florence, the Cathedral and Baptistery on the _Piazza del Duomo_ excepted, has its facade finished, and they will remain probably for ever unfinished, as the completion of them would cost very large sums of money, and the restored Government, however anxious to resuscitate the _ancient faith_, are not inclined to make large disbursements from their own resources for that purpose. I wish however they would finish the facade of two of these churches, viz., that of _Santa Maria Novella_ and that of _Santa Croce_. _Santa Maria Novella_ stands in the Piazza of that name which is very large. It is a beautiful edifice, and can boast in the interior of it several columns and pilasters of _jaune antique_ and of white marble. But they have a most barbarous custom in Florence of covering these columns with red cloth on _jours de Fete_, which spoils the elegant simplicity of the columns and makes the church itself resemble a _theatre des Marionnettes_. But the Italians are dreadfully fond of gaudy colours. In the church of _Santa Croce_ what most engaged my attention was the monument erected to Vittorio Alfieri, sculptured by Canova. It is a most beautiful piece of sculpture. A figure of Italy crowned with turrets seems fully sensible of the great loss she has sustained in one who was so ardent a patriot, as well as an excellent tragic poet. This monument was erected at the expence of the Countess of Albany (Queen of England, had _legitimacy_ always prevailed, or been as much in fashion as it now is) as a mark of esteem and affection towards one who was so tenderly attached to her, and of whom in his writings Alfieri speaks with the endearing and affectionate appellation of _mia Donna_. The beautiful sonnet to her, which accompanies the dedication of his tragedy of _Mirra_, well deserves the monument; there is so much feeling in it that I cannot retrain from transcribing it:
Vergognando talor, che ancor si taccia, Donna, per me l’almo tuo nome in fronte Di queste omai gla troppe a te ben conte Tragedie, ond’io di folle avrommi taccia;
Or vo’ qual d’esse meno a te dispiaccia Di te fregiar; benche di tutte il fonte Tu sola fosti, e’l viver mio non conte
Se non dal Di, ch’al viver tuo si allaccia.
Della figlia di Ciniro infelice
L’orrendo a un tempo ed innocente amore Sempre da’ tuoi begli occhi il planto elice;
Prova emmi questo, ch’al mio dubbio core Tacitamente imperiosa dice,
Ch’io di Mirra consacri a te il dolore.
In this sanctuary (church of the _Santa Croce_) are likewise the tombs and monuments of other great men which Italy has produced. There is the monument erected to Galileo which represents the earth turning round the sun with the emphatic words: _Eppur si muove._ Here too repose the ashes of Machiavelli and Michel Angelo. This church is in fact the Westminster Abbey of Florence.
To go from the _Piazza del gran Duca_ to the _Piazza del Duomo_, where stands the Cathedral, you have only to pass thro’ a long narrow street or rather alley (for it is impervious to carriages) with shops on each side and always filled with people going to or returning from the Duomo. This Cathedral is of immense size. The architecture is singular from its being a mixture of the Gothic and Greek. It appears the most ponderous load that ever was laid on the shoulders of poor mother earth. There is nothing light in its structure to relieve the massiveness of the building, and in this respect it forms a striking contrast to the Cathedral of Milan which appears the work of Sylphs. The outside of this Duomo of Florence is decorated and incrusted with black and white marble, which increases the massiveness of its appearance. The steeple or Campanile stands by itself, altogether separate from the Cathedral, and this is the case with most of the Churches in Italy that are not of pure Gothic architecture. This _Campanile_ is curiously inlaid and incrusted on its outside with red, white and black marble. The Baptistery is another building on the same _Piazza_. It is in the same stile of building as the Duomo, but incloses much less space, and was formerly a separate church, called the church of St John the Baptist. The immense bronze doors or rather gates, both of the Duomo and Battisterio, attracted my peculiar notice. On them are figured bas-reliefs of exquisite and admirable workmanship, representing Scripture histories. It was the symmetry and perfection of these gates that induced Michel Angelo to call them in a fit of enthusiasm _The Gates of Paradise_. At the door of the Battisterio are the columns in red granite, which once adorned the gates of the city at Pisa, and were carried off by the Florentines in one of their wars. Chains are fastened round these columns, as a memorial of the conquest. The cupolas both of the Duomo and Battisterio are octangular. There is a stone seat on the _Piazza del Duomo_ where they pretend that Dante used occasionally to sit; hence it is called to this day _Il Sasso di Dante_.
You will now no doubt expect me to give some account of the theatres. At the _Pergola_, which is a large and splendid theatre, I have seen two operas; the one, _L’Italiana in Algieri_, which I saw before at Milan last year; the other, the _Barbieri di Seviglia_ by Rossini, which afforded to my ears the most delightful musical feast they ever enjoyed. The cavatina _Una voce poco fa_ gave me inconceivable delight. The _Ballo_ was of a very splendid description and from a subject taken from the Oriental history entitled _Macbet Sultan of Delhi_. How the Mogul Sultan came to have the name of Macbet I know not. On the _plafond_ of the _Pergola_ is an allegorical painting representing the restored Kings of Europe replaced on their thrones by Valor and Justice. The decorations at this theatre are not quite so splendid as those of the _Scala_ at Milan, but living horses and military evolutions seem to be annexed to every historical _Ballo_. Horses indeed appear to be an indispensable ingredient in the _Balli_ in the large cities of Italy.
In the _Teatro Cocomera_, comedies are performed, and very generally those of the inexhaustible Goldoni. I saw the _Bugiardo_ very fairly performed at this theatre. The story is nearly the same as that of our piece, _The Liar_, which is I believe imitated from _Le Menteur_ of Corneille. The actor who did the Liar was a very good one. The actresses screamed too much and were rather coarse. Another night at the theatre I saw a piece call’d _II furioso_, a _comedie larmoyante_ which was interesting and well given; but the voice of the prompter was occasionally too loud. Tragedies are very seldom played; the language of Alfieri could never, I will not say be given with effect, but even conceived by the modern actors. It would be like a tragedy of Sophocles performed by boys at school. There is another reason too why these tragedies are not given; they abound too much in republican and patriotic sentiments to be grateful to the ears of the Princes who reign in Italy, all of whom being of foreign extraction and unshackled by constitutions, come under the denomination of those beings called by Greeks [Greek: Turannoi], I use this word in its Greek sense. Of the Tuscan Government it is but justice to say that from the days of Leopold to the present day it was and is a mild, just and paternal government, more so perhaps than any in Europe; and the only one that can any way reconcile one altogether to those lines of Pope:
For forms of Government let fools contest; Whate’er is best administer’d is best.[83]
In the time of Leopold the factious nobility were kept in check, and the industrious classes, mercantile and agricultural, encouraged. The peasantry were, and are, the most affluent in Europe; and this is no small incitement to the industry that prevails. On the elevation of Leopold to the throne of the Caesars, the present Grand Duke succeeded in Tuscany; and he followed the same system that Leopold did, and was equally beloved by his subjects. Tuscany was the only country in Italy that did not desire a change at the period of the French conquest, and the only state wherein the French were not hailed as deliverers. The Tuscans exhibited a very honorable spirit on the occasion of Buonaparte’s visit to the Grand Duke in 1797. They went together to the Theatre della Pergola, and on their entering into the Grand Ducal box, the Grand Duke was hailed with cries of _Viva il Nostro Sovrano_: now this proof of attachment at a period when Buonaparte was all-mighty in Italy, when the Grand Duke was but an inferior personage, at a time too when it was doubtful whether or not he would be dethroned, and in the very presence of the mighty conqueror, reflects great honor and credit on the Tuscan character. Buonaparte was much struck at this proof of disinterested attachment on the part of the Florentines towards their Sovereign, and told the Grand Duke very ingenuously that he had received orders to revolutionize the country, from the French Directory; but that as he perceived the people were so happy, and the Prince so beloved, he could not and would not attempt to make any change.
The applause given to the Grand Duke at this critical period is so much the more creditable to the Florentines as they in general receive their Prince, on his presenting himself at the theatre, with no other ceremonial than rising once and bowing. There is no fulsome _God save the King_ repeated even to nausea, as at the English theatres. In fact none of the Italians pay that servile adulation to their Sovereigns that the French and English do.
The changes projected in Italy at the treaty of Luneville by Napoleon then first Consul, and his further views on Italy, induced him at length to eject an Austrian Prince from the sovereignty of a country which he intended to annex to the French Empire. The Grand Duke was indemnified with a principality in Germany, where he remained until the downfall of Napoleon in 1814; subsequent arrangements again restored him to the sway of the land he loved so well, and he returned to Florence as if he had only been absent on a tour, finding scarcely any change in the laws and customs and habits of the country; for tho’ Tuscany was first erected into a Kingdom by the title of Etruria, and afterwards annexed to the French Empire, the institutions and laws laid down by Leopold and followed strictly by his successor were preserved; very little innovation took place, and the few innovations that were effected were decided ameliorations; for the Emperor Napoleon had too much tact not to preserve and protect the good he found, tho’ he abolished all old abuses. The improvements introduced by the French have been preserved and confirmed by the Grand Duke on his return, for he is a man of too much good sense, and has too much love of justice, to think of abolishing the good that has been done, merely because it was done by the French. Tuscany has now a respectable military force of 8,000 men well armed, clothed and equipped in the French manner.
Tuscany is the only part of Italy where the downfall of Napoleon was not regretted; the inhabitants of Leghorn indeed rejoiced at it, for the commerce of Tuscany being chiefly maritime, Leghorn suffered a good deal from the continental system. Leghorn in fact decayed in the same proportion that Milan and other inland cities rose into opulence.
The character of the Tuscan people is so amiable and pacific that crime is very rare indeed. Murder is almost unknown and the punishment of death is banished from the penal code. Where the government is good, the people are or soon become good. I know of no country in the world more agreeable for a foreigner to settle in than Tuscany.
I omitted to remark that in the street called _Borgo d’Ognissanti_ is a large house or _palazzo_ which belonged to Americo Vespucci. His bust is to be seen in the Florentine Gallery. It is curious to remark the different appellations given to the word _street_ in the different cities of Italy. In Milan a street is called _vico_ and in Turin, _contrada_; in Florence _strada_ and in Rome, I understand, _via_.
FLORENCE, 1st Sept.
I shall start in a day or two for Rome, being very impatient to behold the Eternal City, a plan which I have had in view from my earliest days and which I have not been able hitherto to effect; for like the Abbe Delille I had sworn to visit the sacred spot where so many illustrious men had spoke and acted, and to do hommage in person to their Manes. I was always a great admirer of the “_Popolo Re_.”
In Florence there are a great many literary societies such as the _Infuocati, Immobili_, and the far renowned _La Crusca_.
Frequent _Academies_, for so a sitting of a litterary society in Italy is termed, are held in Florence. There are likewise two Casinos, one for the nobility and the other for the merchants and burghers; the wives and daughters of the members attend occasionally; and cards, music and dancing are the amusements. Florence abounds in artists in alabaster whose workmanship is beautiful. They make models in alabaster of the most celebrated pieces of sculpture and architecture, on any scale you chuse: they fabricate busts too and vases in alabaster. The vases made in imitation of the ancient Greek vases are magnificent, and some of them are of immense size. Foreigners generally chuse to have their busts taken; for almost all foreigners who arrive here are or pretend to be smitten with an ardent love for the fine arts, and every one wishes to take with him models of the fine things he has seen in Italy, on his return to his native country. Here are English travellers who at home would scarcely be able to distinguish the finest piece of ancient sculpture–the Mercury, for instance, in the Florentine Gallery, from a Mercury in a citizen’s garden at Highgate–who here affect to be in extacies at the sight of the Venus, Apollino, &c., and they are fond of retailing on all occasions the terms of art and connoisseurship they have learned by rote, in the use of which they make sometimes ridiculous mistakes. For instance I heard an Englishman one day holding forth on the merits of the Vierge _quisouse_, as he called it. I could not for some time divine what he meant by the word _quisouse_, but after some explanation I found that he meant the celebrated painting of the _Vierge qui coud_, or _Vierge couseuse_, as it is sometimes called, which latter word he had transformed into _quisouse_. This affectation, however, of passion for the _belle arti_, tho’ sometimes open to ridicule, is very useful. It generates taste, encourages artists, and is surely a more innocent as well as more rational mode of spending money and passing time than in encouraging pugilism or in racing, coach driving and cock fighting.
[83] Pope, _Essay on Man_, ep. III, 303-4.–ED.
CHAPTER X
Journey from Florence to Rome–Sienna–Radicofani–Bolsena–Montefiascone wine–Viterbo–Baccano–The Roman Campagna–The papal _douane_–Monuments and Museums in Rome–Intolerance of the Catholic Christians–The Tiber and the bridges–Character of the Romans–The _Palassi_ and _Ville_–Canova’s atelier–Theatricals–An execution in Rome.
September—-, 1816.
I made an agreement with a _vetturino_ to take me to Rome for three _louis d’or_ and to be _spesato_. In the carriage were two other passengers, viz., a Neapolitan lady, the wife of a Colonel in the Neapolitan service, and a young Roman, the son of the _Barigello_ or _Capo degli Sbirri_ at Rome. We issued from the _Porta Romana_ at 6 o’clock a.m. the 3d September.
The road winds thro’ a valley, and has a gentle ascent nearly the whole way to Poggibonsi, where we brought to the first night. The soil hereabouts is far from fertile, but every inch of it is put to profit. The olive tree is very frequent and several farms and villages are to be met with. The next day we arrived at 12 o’clock at Sienna. The approach to Sienna is announced by a quantity of olive trees. The situation of this city being on an elevation, makes it cold and bleak. We remained here three hours, so that I had time to visit some of the places worthy of remark in this venerable city, which is handsome and very solidly built, but has rather a sombre appearance. The _Piazza Grande_ lies in a bottom to which you descend from the environing streets. It is in the shape of a mussel shell and of very large size. The Cathedral is Gothic and is a very majestic and venerable building. Inside it is of black and yellow marble. The pavement of this church contains Scripture histories in mosaic. A library is annexed to the church. The librarian pointed out to me 80 folio volumes of church music with illuminated plates; likewise an ancient piece of sculpture much mutilated, viz., a group of the three Graces. In one of the chapels of this Cathedral are eight columns of _verd-antique_. I observed a monument of the Piccolomini family who belong to this city; one of which family figured a good deal in the Thirty Years’ War in Germany. I saw several women in the Cathedral and at the windows of the houses. The greater part of them were handsome. The Italian language is spoken here in its greatest purity; it is the pure Tuscan dialect without the Tuscan aspiration. The Siennese language is in fact the identical _lingua Toscana in bocca Romana_.
We arrived the same evening at Buon Convento, an old dismal dirty-looking town formerly fortified; but the country in the environs is pleasing enough. The inn here is very bad. On the road between Sienna and this place I observed a number of mulberry trees.
The next morning, the 5th Sept., we arrived at Radicofani or rather at an inn or post house facing Radicofani. This is a very ancient city, and from its being on an eminence it has an imposing appearance. Above it towers an immense conical shaped mountain, evidently a volcano in former times. In fact, the whole country hereabouts is volcanic, which is plainly seen from the immense masses of calcined stones, the exhalations of sulphur and the dreary wild appearance of the country, where scarce a tree is to be seen. I never in my life saw so many calcined rocks and stones of great magnitude heaped together as at Radicofani. It gave the idea as if it were the identical field of battle between Jupiter and the Titans, and as if the masses of rock that everywhere meet the eye had been hurled at the Empyreum by the Titans and had fallen back on the spot from whence they were torn up. It is indeed very probable that this volcano which vomited forth rocks and stones in a very remote age, gave rise to the Fable of the war between Jupiter and the Giants; just as the volcanos in Sicily and Stromboli gave rise to the story of the Cyclops with one eye (the crater) in their forehead. But the mountain of Radicofani must have been a volcano anterior even to Aetna; it presents the image of an ancient world destroyed by fire.
At Ponte Centino the next morning we took our leave of
_La patria bella
Di vaghe Donne e di dolce favella;_
in plain prose, we left the Tuscan territory, and re-entered the dominions of His Holiness. After being detained half an hour at the _Douane_, we proceeded to Acquapendente to breakfast. The country between Radicofani and Acquapendente is dreary, thinly populated, little cultivated, and volcanic steams of sulphur assail the nostrils. Before we arrived at Acquapendente we had a troublesome river to cross, which at times is nearly dry, and at other times the water comes down in torrents from the surrounding mountains and precipices, so as to render its passage extremely dangerous. It is always necessary previous to the passage of a carriage, to send on a man to ford and sound it, from its meandering and forming different beds crossed seven times, twice less than Styx _novies interfusa_, and it is a very slow operation from the number of rocks and quicksands; so that, should the torrent come down while you are in the act of crossing, you and your whole equipage would be swept away by the stream and drowned or dashed to pieces. Travellers going to and returning from Rome are frequently detained for a day or two at Ponte Centino or Acquapendente during the rainy season; for immediately after heavy rains, there is always a great risk and it is better to halt for several hours to allow the waters to pass off. The extent of ground that this river covers by its meandering and forming so many beds nearly parallel to each other renders it impossible to construct a bridge long enough; and it would be always liable to be swept away by the torrent. Nobody ever thinks of crossing the river in the dark. There having no rain fallen for several days we passed it without difficulty.
Within a mile of Acquapendente the landscape varies and the approach to this town is exceedingly picturesque. Acquapendente is situated on a lofty eminence from which several magnificent cascades descend into the ravine below and which give the name to the town. There are a great number of trees about this town and they afford a great relief to the eye of the traveller after so many hours’ journey thro’ volcanic wastes. The town of Acquapendente is very ancient; it is very large, but ill-paved and dirty; the best buildings in it are, however, modern. The inhabitants appear lazy and dirty. On entering into conversation with some soldiers belonging to the Papal army, who were stationed at this place, I found that most of them had served under Napoleon. They spoke of him with tears of affection in their eyes, and I pleased them much by reciprocating their opinions of that great man. To speak well of Napoleon is the surest passport to civility and good treatment on the part of the soldiers and _douaniers_.
In the evening we arrived at Bolsena, the ancient Volsinium, a city of the Volscians. It is an ancient looking town, not very clean, and inhabited by indolent people. It is situated on the banks of a large lake, on which there are three small islands. It is very aguish and unhealthy, and the inhabitants appear sickly, with marvellous sallow complexions. The inn where we put up was a pretty good one, and as this lake abounds in fish, we had some excellent trout and pike for supper; among other dishes there was one that was very gratifying to me, an old East and West Indian; and that was the _Peveroni_ or large red and green peppers or capsicums fried in oil. Some excellent Orvieto wine crowned our repast, and helped to restore us from our fatigues.
On leaving Bolsena the next morning, the 7th, and within a very short distance from that town we entered a thick and venerable forest, thro’ which the road runs for several miles. Fine old trees of immense height covered with foliage and thickly studded together give to this forest an aweful and romantic appearance. It is quite a _lucus opaca ingens_. This forest has been held sacred since the earliest times and is even now held in such superstitious veneration by the people that they do not allow it to be cut. The Dryads and Hamadryads have no doubt long ago taken their flight, but the wood, from its length and opaqueness, inspired me with some apprehension lest it might be the abode of some modern votaries of Mercury, people having confused ideas of _meum_ and _tuum_, and the _appropriative faculty_ too strongly developed in their organization, and I expected every moment to hear a shot and the terrible cry of _ferma_; but we met with no accident nor did we fall in with a living soul. On issuing from this forest we perceived on an eminence before us, at a short distance, the town of Montefiascone. We stopped there as almost all travellers do to taste the famous Montefiascone wine or _Est_ wine, as it is frequently called. This wine is fine flavored, _petillant_ and wonderfully exhilarating. It is renowned for having occasioned the death of a German prelate in the sixteenth century, who was travelling in Italy and who was remarkably fond of good wine. The story is as follows. He was accustomed to send on his servant to the different towns thro’ which he was to pass with directions, to taste and report on the quality of the different wines to be found there, and if they were good to mark the word _Est_ on the casks from which he tasted them. The servant, on arrival at Montefiascone, was highly pleased with the flavour of the wine, of which there were three casks at the inn where they put up. He accordingly wrote the word _Est_ on each of the casks. The Bishop arrived soon after and took such a liking to this wine that he died in a few days of a fever brought on by continual intoxication. He was buried in one of the churches at Montefiascone and the monks of the Convent there, themselves _bons-vivans_, determined to give him a suitable epitaph. They accordingly caused to be engraved on his tomb the following Latin inscription commemorative of the event: _Est, Est, Est, propter nimium Est, Dominus Episcopus mortuus_ EST. From the above circumstance this wine is called _Vino d’Est_, and it affords no small revenue to the proprietor of the _cabaret_ on the road side who sells it.
We arrived at Viterbo to breakfast and at Ronciglione in the evening. Viterbo is a large and handsome city and contains several striking buildings. It is paved with lava and contains a great variety of fountains. There is some appearance of commerce and industry in this town and there are several _maisons de plaisance_ in the neighbourhood. From Viterbo, thro’ Monterosi, to Ronciglione the road lies over a mountain of steep ascent; here and there are patches of forest. There is not a house to be seen on this route and from there being a good deal of wood, and no appearance of cultivation, one fancies oneself rather in the wilds of a new country like America, than in so old a one as Italy.
Ronciglione is an old rubbishing town half in ruins and contains no one thing remarkable.
The next morning at four o’clock we started from Ronciglione and reached Baccano to breakfast.
Baccano contains only two buildings; but they are both very large and roomy; the one is the inn, and the other serves as a barrack for the Military. There is always a strong military detachment here for the security of the road against robbers, who occasionally infest this neighbourhood. The inn is of immense size. Travellers, who arrive here late, would do well to halt here the whole night, as not only the road is dangerous on account of robbers, but because if they arrive at Rome after five o’clock p.m., they cannot release their baggage and carriage from the Custom house till next day. Every carriage public or private that arrives in Rome is bound, unless a special permission to the contrary be obtained from the Government, to drive direct to the Custom house (_Dogana_). In the like manner, on travelling from Rome to Florence, people generally prefer to start from Rome at twelve o’clock and bring to the night at Baccano, so as to avoid the bad inn at Ronciglione and sleep in preference at Viterbo. I here speak only of those who travel by short stages as the _vetturini_ do.
Ariosto has given a celebrity to this wretched place Baccano in his poem of the _Orlando Furioso_, in the story of Giocondo in the 28th Canto, as being the identical place where Fausto, the brother of Giocondo, remained to await the return of his brother from Rome, to which place he had gone back, when half way between Baccano and Rome, to fetch the _monile_ which he had left behind him, and found his wife not _alone_ and _dying with grief_ as he apprehended, but _sotto la coltre_ with a servant of the family.
The country between Baccano and Rome is as unpleasing and even worse than that between the former place and Ronciglione. It is hilly, but not a tree, nor a house, nor a sign of cultivation to be seen except the two or three wretched hovels at La Storta. There is nothing at all that announces the approach to a capital city; and in addition to the dismal landscape there is a sight still more dismal that salutes the eye of the traveller at intervals of two or three miles and which does not tend to inspire pleasing ideas; and this is the sight of arms and legs of malefactors and murderers suspended on large poles on the road side; for it is the custom here to cut off the arms and legs of murderers after decapitation, and to suspend them _in terrorem_ on poles, erected on the very spot where they committed the murder. The sight of these limbs dangling in the wind is not a very comfortable one towards the close of the evening.
We left the _Sepolero di Nerone_, an ancient tomb so called, on the right of our road and half a mile beyond it crossed the Tiber at the _Ponte Molle (Pons Milvius)_, where there is a gate, bridge and military post. From this post to the _Porta del Popolo_, the entrance into the city for those coming from the North, the distance is one mile; there is a white wall on each side of the road the whole way, and some farm houses and villas. Near the _Ponte Molle_ is the field of battle where Maxentius was defeated by Constantine.
We entered the _Porta del Popolo_, crossed the _Piazza_ of the same name, where three streets present themselves to view. In the centre is the street called the _Corso_, running in a direct line from the _Porta_ across the _Piazza_. We drove along the _Corso_ till we arrived at a _Piazza_ on our right hand, which _Piazza_ is called _della Colonna_ from the Column of Antoninus, which stands on it. We then crossed the _Piazza_ which is very large and soon reached the _Dogana_ or Custom house, formerly the temple of Antoninus Pius, where vile modern walls are built to fill up the intervals between eleven columns of Grecian marble. Here our baggage underwent a rigorous research; this rigour is not so much directed against the fraudulent introduction of contraband or duty-bearing merchandise, as against _books_, which undergo a severe scrutiny. Against Voltaire and Rousseau implacable war is waged, and their works are immediately confiscated. Other authors too are sometimes examined, to see whether they contain anything against Mother Church. As the people employed in inspecting books are not much versed in any litterature or language but their own, except perhaps a little French, it is not easy for them to find out the contents of books in other languages. I had Schiller’s works with me, a volume of which one of the _douaniers_ took up and looked at; on seeing the Gothic letter he seemed as much astonished as if he had got hold of a book of _Cabbala_ or _Magic_. He detained the whole work, but it was sent to me the next day, on my declaring that there was nothing damnable or heretical in it; for there was no person belonging to the department who could read German. When the _douaniers_ proceeded to the examination of the books belonging to one of my fellow travellers, the Neapolitan lady, she expressed great repugnance to the procedure; the _douaniers_ however insisted and, behold! there were several _livres galants_ with plates somewhat _lubriques_, the discovery of which excited blushes on her part and considerable laughter on the part of the byestanders. These books, however, not being contraband, were immediately returned to her, as was an edition of Baffo, belonging to my other fellow traveller, returned to him. Now this Baffo was a Venetian poet and his works are the most profligate that ever were penned or imagined by mortal man. Martial and Petronius Arbiter must hide their diminished heads before Baffo. The owner of this book chose to read out loud, quite unsolicited, several _choice_ sonnets of this poet for our edification during the journey; and this branch of litterature seemed to be the only one with which he was acquainted.
When the examination was over I took leave of my fellow travellers, and repaired to the _German Hotel_ in the _Via de’ Condotti_, where I engaged an apartment, and sat down to dinner at an excellent _table d’hote_ at five o’clock. There was a profusion of everything, particularly of fish and game. Mullets and wild boar are constant dishes at a Roman table. The mullets at Rome are small but delicious, and this was a fish highly prized by the ancient Romans. Game of all kinds is very cheap here, from the abundance of it that is to be met with in wild uninhabited wastes of Latium and in the Pontine marshes. Every peasant is a sportsman and goes constantly armed with fire-arms, not only to kill game, but to defend himself against robbers, who infest the environs of Rome, and who sometimes carry their audacity so far as to push their _reconnaissances_ close to the very walls of the city. At the _German Hotel_ the price of the dinner at _table d’hote_, including wine at discretion, is six _paoli_, about three franks. I pay for an excellent room about three _paoli_ per diem and my breakfast at a neighbouring _Caffe_ costs me one _paolo_. A _paolo_ is worth about five pence English. There are ten _paoli_ to a _scudo Romano_ and ten _bafocchi_ to a _paolo_, The _bafocco_ is a copper coin.
ROME, 12th Sept.
A great number of Germans dine at the _table d’hote_ of Franz’s hotel. Among them I distinguished one day a very intelligent Bavarian Jew. I proposed to him a walk to the Coliseum the following morning, as independent of the benefit I derived from his conversation I was curious to see whether it was true or not that the Jews always avoided walking under the Arch of Titus, which was erected in commemoration of the capture of Jerusalem by the Romans under Titus, in the reign of Vespasian. On stepping out of the _Hotel Allemand_, the first thing that met my eye was the identical beggar described by Kotzebue in his travels in Italy, and he gives the very same answer now as then to those who give him nothing, viz., _Pazienza_.
We crossed the _Piazza di Spagna_, ascended the superb flight of steps of the _Trinita de’ Monti_, where there is a French church called the Church of St Louis: near it is the _Villa Medici_, which is the seat of the French Academy of the fine arts at Rome. We then filed along the _Strada Felice_ till we arrived at the church of _Santa Maria maggiore_, a superb edifice, the third church in Rome in celebrity, and the second in magnificence. An immense Egyptian Obelisk stands before it. We then, turning a little to the right, made the best of our way to the Coliseum where we remained nearly two hours. I had figured to myself the grandest ideas of this stupendous building, but the aspect of it far exceeded the sketch even of my imagination. In Egypt I have seen the Pyramids, but even these vast masses did not make such an impression on me as the Coliseum has done. I am so unequal to the task of description that I shall not attempt it; I will give you however its dimensions which my friend the Jew measured. It is an ellipse of which the transverse axis is 580 feet in length and its conjugate diameter 480; but it is not so much the length and breadth as the solidity of this building that strikes the traveller with astonishment. The arcaded passage or gallery (on the _rez de chaussee_ between the interior and the exterior wall), which has a vaulted roof over which the seats are built, is broad enough to admit three carriages abreast: and the walls on each side of this gallery are at least twenty feet thick. What a magnificent spectacle it must have been in the time of the ancient Romans, when it was ornamented, gilded, and full of spectators, of which it could contain, it is said, 86,000! The Coliseum has been despoiled by various Popes and Cardinals to furnish stone and marble to build their palaces; otherwise, so solid is the building, Time alone would never suffice to destroy it. At present strict orders are given and sentries are posted to prevent all further dilapidations, and buttresses have been made to prop up those parts which had given way. What a pity it is that the Arena has not been left empty, instead of being fitted up with tawdry niches and images representing the different stations of the Crucifixion! In the centre is an immense Cross, which whoever kisses is entitled to one hundred days indulgence. To what reflections the sight of this vast edifice leads! What combats of gladiators and wild beasts! What blood has been spilled! Was it not here that the tyrannical and cowardly Domitian ordered Ulpius Glabrio, of consular dignity, to descend into the arena and fight with a lion? The Christian writers mention that many of their sect suffered martyrdom here by being compelled to fight with wild beasts; but even this was not half so bad as the conduct of the Christians, when they obtained possession of political power and dominion, in burning alive poor Jews, Moors and heretics some centuries afterwards. Indeed the cruelty of the Pagans was much exaggerated by the above writers and were it even true to its full extent, their severity was far more excusable than that of the Christians in later times, for the efforts of the Christian sect in the times of Paganism were unceasingly directed towards the destruction of the whole fabric of polytheism, on which was based the entire, social and political order of the Empire; and they thus brought on themselves perhaps merited persecution, by their own intolerance; whereas, when they got the upper hand, they showed no mercy to those of a different religion, and Orthodoxy has wallowed successively in the blood of Arians, Jews, Moors and Protestants.
How many a poor Jew or Moor in Spain and Portugal has been burned alive for no other reason than
_Pour n’avoir point quitte la foi de leurs ancetres._
No, no; no sect or religion was ever so persecuting as the Catholic Christians! The Polytheists of all times, both ancient and modern, were tolerant to all religions and so far from striving to make proselytes, often adopted the ceremonies of other worships in addition to their own; witness the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans of old, and the Hindoos and Chinese of the present day. The Jews, ferocious and prejudiced as they were, never persecuted other nations on the ground of religion, and if they held these nations in abhorrence as idolaters, and considered themselves alone as the holy people, the people of God (Yahoudi), they never dreamed of making converts. The Mussulmans tho’ they hold it as a sacred precept of their religion to endeavour to make converts to Islam, do not use violent means and only compel those of a different faith to pay a higher tribute. At any rate, they never have or do put people to death merely for the difference of religious opinions. Such were the reflections I made on walking about the Arena of this colossal edifice so worthy of the _popolo Re_.
On leaving the Coliseum the first thing that meets the eye is the Arch of Constantine, under which the Roman triumphal and ovationary processions moved towards the Capitol. The Arch of Constantine stands just outside the Coliseum. It is of immense size and extremely well preserved. The ground on which it stands being much filled up and only half of the Arch appearing, the rest remaining buried in the earth, it was judged adviseable to excavate all around it in order to come to the pedestal; so that now there is a walled enclosure all around it and into this enclosure it is a descent of at least eighteen feet from the ground outside. Several statues of captive Kings and bas-reliefs representing the victories of Constantine adorn the facade of this triumphal arch. The inscriptions are perfect, and the letters were formerly filled up with bronze; but these have been taken out at the repeated sackings that poor Rome has undergone from friend and foe. At a short distance from the Arch of Constantine is the Arch of Titus, under which we moved along on our road towards the Capitol and my friend the Jew was too much of a cosmopolite to feel the smallest repugnance at walking under the Arch. Our conversation then turned on the absurd hatred and prejudice that existed between Christians and Jews; he was very liberal on this subject and in speaking of Jesus Christ he said: “Jesus Christ was a Jew and a real philosopher and was therefore persecuted, for his philosophy interfered too much with, and tended to shake the political fabric of the Jewish constitution and to subvert our old customs and usages: for this reason he was put to death. I seek not to defend or palliate the injustice of the act or the barbarity with which he was treated; but our nation did surely no more than any other nation ancient or modern has done or would still do against reformers and innovators.”
The Arch of Titus is completely defaced outside, but in the interior of the Arch, on each side, is a bas relief: the one representing Vespasian’s triumph over the Jews, and the Emperor himself in a car drawn by six horses; the other represents the soldiers and followers of the triumph, bearing the spoils of the conquered nation, and among them the famous candlesticks that adorned the temple of Jerusalem are very conspicuous. These figures are in tolerable preservation, only that the Emperor has lost his head and one of the soldiers has absconded.
On issuing from the Arch of Titus we found ourselves in the Forum, now the _Campo Vaccino_: so that cattle now low where statesmen and orators harangued, and lazy priests in procession tread on the sacred dust of heroes.
Ou des pretres heureux foulent d’un pied tranquille Les tombeaux des Catons et les cendres d’Emile.
So sings Voltaire, I believe, or if they are not his lines, they are the Abbe Delille’s.[84]
The imagination is quite bewildered here from the variety of ancient monuments that meet the eye in every direction. What vast souvenirs crowd all at once on the mind! Look all around! the _Via Sacra_, the Arch of Severus, and the Capitol in front; on one side of you, the temple of Peace, that of Faustina and that of the Sun and Moon: on the other the remaining three columns of the temple of Jupiter Stator; the three also of the temple of Jupiter Tonans; the eight columns of the temple of Concord; and the solitary column of Phocas. At a short distance the temple of Castor and Pollux and that of Romulus and Remus, which is a round building of great antiquity, whose rusticity forms a striking contrast with the elegance of the colonnaded temples, and which was evidently built before the conquest of Greece by the Romans and the consequent introduction of the fine arts and of the Grecian orders of architecture.
You may wish to know my sensations on traversing this sacred ground. The _Via Sacra_ recalled to me Horace meeting the _bavard_ who addresses him: _Quid agis, dulcissime rerum_?[85] I then thought of the Sabine rape; of Brutus’ speech over the body of Lucretia; then I almost fancied I could see the spot where stood the butcher’s shop, from whence Virginius snatched the knife to immolate his daughter at the shrine of Honor; next the shade of Regulus flitted before my imagination, refusing to be exchanged; then I figured to myself Cicero thundering against Catiline; or the same with delicate irony ridiculing the ultra-rigor of the Stoics, so as to force even the gravity of Cato to relax into a smile; then the grand, the heroic act of Marcus Brutus in immolating the great Caesar at the altar of liberty. All these recollections and ideas crowded on my imagination without regard to order or chronology, and I remained for some time in a state of the most profound reverie, from which I was only roused by my friend the Jew reminding me that we had a quantity of other things to see.
The first object that engaged my attention on being roused from my reverie, was the Arch of Severus at the foot of the Capitol which towers above it. Excavations have been made around this Arch (for otherwise only half of it could be seen) and a stone wall built around the excavated ground in the same manner as at the Arch of Constantine. Round several of the columns of the temples I have above enumerated, excavations have been also made; otherwise the lower half of them would remain buried in the earth and give to the monuments the appearance of a city which had been half swallowed up by an earthquake. By dint of digging round the column of Phocas, the ancient paved road which led to the Capitol has been discovered and is now open to view. This ancient road is at least thirty feet below the surface of the present road and the ground about it. This shows how the ground must have been filled up by the destruction of buildings at the different sackings of Rome and the consequent accumulation of rubbish. The French when they were here began these excavations and the Duchess of Devonshire continues them.[86] It is useful in every way; it employs a number of poor people and may be the means of discovering some valuable remains of antiquity and objects of art. At any rate it is highly gratifying to have discovered the identical road to the Capitol on which so many Consuls, Dictators and Emperors moved in triumph, and so many captive Kings wept in chains.
We then ascended the steps that lead to the modern Capitol and mounted on the _Campanile_ of the same, from whence there is a superb panoramic view of Rome. On descending from the _Campanile_, we visited the Tarpeian rock, which is now of inconsiderable height, the ground about it and heaps of rubbish having filled up the abyss below. We then entered the court yard of the Capitol. The Capitol and building annexed to it form three sides of a rectangle, the centre or _corps de logis_ lying North and South, and the wings East and West, the whole inclosing a court yard open on the South side of the rectangle, from whence you descend into the street on the plain below, by a most magnificent escalier or flight of steps. Of the Capitol, the _corps de logis_ or central building to which the _Campanile_ belongs, is reserved for the occupation and habitation of the _Senator Romano_, a civil magistrate, corresponding something to the mayor in France or _Oberbuergermeister_ in the German towns, and who is chosen from among the nobility and nominated by the Pope. The wings contain the _Museum Capitolinum_ of painting and sculpture. There is a great deal to call forth the admiration of the traveller in the court yard of the Capitol. The most prominent object is the famous bronze equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which cannot fail to rivet the attention of the least enthusiastic spectator. I observed at each angle of the facade of the Capitol a colossal statue of a captive King in a Phrygian dress; but still more striking than these are the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux leading horses, which stand a little in front of the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, and nearer the _escalier_, the one on the right the other on the left. Two lions in basalt on each side of the _escalier_ are very striking objects, and the _escalier_ itself is the most superb thing of the kind perhaps in the world. This _escalier_ and the Marcus Aurelius, unique also in its kind, are both the workmanship of Michael Angelo.[87] We descended this _escalier_ and then fronted it to take a view of the Capitol from the bottom; but the statue of Marcus Aurelius is so prominent and so grand that it absorbed all my attention.
After dinner I walked a little in the gardens on the Pincian hill, and then visited some friends belonging to the French Academy of Painting and Sculpture, who were so good as to shew me their productions, and also a copy of the superb folio edition of Denon’s work on Egypt which to me, who had been in that country, was highly gratifying. Oh! what a pity that the French could not keep that country! What a paradise they would have made of it! As it is (and to their credit be it said) they did more good for the country during three years only, than we have done for our possessions in India for fifty years.
ROME, 15th Septr.
The next morning, after an early breakfast, I repaired to the Pantheon, now called _Santa Maria della Rotonda_, and appropriated to the Catholic worship. It is easily recognizable by its rotundity and by the simple grandeur of its facade and portico. The bronze has been taken out of the letters of the inscription. This beautiful specimen of ancient architecture is situated in a small _piazza_ or square called _Piazza della Rotonda_, where a market of poultry, game, and vegetables is held. There are only now three or four steps on the _escalier_ to ascend, in order to enter into the portico; but as it is known that according to the descriptions of the Pantheon in ancient times there was an immense flight of steps to ascend, it is an additional proof how much the ground on which modern Rome stands has been filled up, and consequently it is evident that the greater part of this flight of steps remains still buried in the earth.
If I was so struck with the appearance of this interesting edifice outside, how much more so should I have been on seeing the inside, were not the niches, where formerly stood the statues of the Gods, filled with tawdry dolls representing the Virgin Mary and _he_ and _she_ saints. The columns and pilasters in the interior of this temple are beautiful, all of _jaune antique_ and one entire stone each. How much better would it have been to replace the statues of the _Dii Majorum Gentium_ which occupied the niches, by statues in marble of the Apostles, instead of the dolls dressed in tawdry colors, and the frippery gilding of the altars on which they stand, which disfigure this noble building. The Pantheon was built by Agrippa as the inscription shews. In the interior are sixteen columns of _jaune antique_. The bronze that formerly ornamented this temple was made use of to fabricate the baldachin of St Peter’s. Of late years it has been the fashion to erect monuments affixed to the walls of the interior of the Pantheon to the memory of the great men and heroes of poetry, painting, sculpture and music who were natives of Italy, or for foreigners, celebrated for their excellence in those arts, who have died in Rome. Here are for instance, tablets to the memory of Metastasio, Rafael Mengs, Sacchini, Poussin, Winckelmann; the Phidias of modern days, the illustrious Canova, has recommended the placing in the Pantheon of the busts in marble of all the great men who have flourished in Italy, as the most appropriate ornament to this temple. He himself with a princely liberality has made a present to it of the busts of Dante, Petrarca, Ariosto, Tasso, Guarini, Alfieri, Michel Angelo, Rafaello, Metastasio and various other worthies. These busts are all the production either of Canova himself, or made by his pupils under his direction; they are not the least remarkable ornament of the place. In the centre of the _Piazza della Rotonda_ stands an obelisk brought from Egypt, which belonged to a temple sacred to Isis in that country.
I next repaired to the _Piazza di Navona_, a large and spacious square, where there is a superb fountain representing a vast rock with four colossal figures, one of which reclines at the foot of the rock, at each angle of the pedestal that supports it, and it is surmounted by an Obelisk which was brought from Egypt and was found in the gardens of Sallust. The four colossal figures represent the four river Gods of the four great rivers in Europe, Asia, Africa and America, viz., the Danube, the Ganges, the Nile, and the Plata. The statue of the Nile has his head half-concealed by a cloak, emblematical of the source of that river not being discovered. In the _Piazza_ are frequently held fairs, shews of wild beasts, theatrical exhibitions and sometimes combats of wild beasts.
I crossed the Tiber on my way to St Peter’s at the _Ponte di Sant’ Angelo_; directly on the other side of the river stands the castle of that name, an immense edifice formerly the _Moles Adriana_ or Mausoleum of the Emperor Adrian. It is of a circular form and is a remarkably striking object. From here there is a spacious street as broad as Portland place, which leads to the magnificent _Piazza_, where stands the Metropolitan Church of the Christian world, the pride of Christendom, the triumph of modern architecture, flanked on each side by a semi-circular colonnaded portico, which constitutes one of its greatest beauties and distinguishes it from all the other temples in the world. On the Piazza, considerably in front of this wonderful edifice and nearly in the centre, stands an immense Egyptian Obelisk, and at a short distance on each side of the Obelisk two magnificent fountains which spout water to a great height and which contribute greatly to the ornament of the _Piazza_.
Now you must not expect me to give you a description of this glorious temple. I never in my life possessed descriptive powers, even for objects of no great importance: how then could I attempt to delineate the innumerable beauties of this edifice? Yet, vast as it is, the proportions of the facade are so correct, that they, together with the semi-circular colonnaded portico, serve to diminish its apparent size and to render its mass less imposing, but perhaps more beautiful. On this account it appears at first sight of less size than the Church of St Paul’s in London. The beauty of the architecture, viz., of the facade and of the colonnaded portico would require days to examine and admire. What shall I say then of the wonders of the interior, crowded and charged as it is with the finest pieces of sculpture, columns of the most beautiful _verd antique_ and of _jaune antique_; the masterpieces of painting copied in mosaic; the precious, stones and marbles of all sorts that adorn the variety of magnificent chapels and altars; the immense baldachin with its twisted columns of bronze (the spoils of the Pantheon and of the temple of Jerusalem); the profusion of gilding and ornament of all sorts and where in spite of this profusion there seems _rien de trop_. At first entrance the eye is so dazzled with the magnificent _tout ensemble_ as to be incapable for a long time of examining any thing in detail. Each chapel abounds in the choicest marbles and precious stones: in a word it would seem as if the whole wealth of the Earth were concentrated here. Without impiety or exaggeration, I felt on entering this majestic temple for the first time just as I conceive a resuscitated mortal would feel on being ushered into the scene of the glories of Heaven. The masterpieces of painting are here perpetuated in mosaic, and so correctly and beautifully done, that unless you approach exceedingly close indeed, it is impossible to distinguish them from paintings. What an useful as well as ornamental art is the mosaic! There are a great variety of confessionals where penitents and pilgrims may confess, each in his own tongue, for there is a confessional for the use of almost every native tongue and language in the Catholic world. The cupola! What an astonishing sight when you look up at it from below! How can I better describe it than by relating the anecdote of Michel Angelo its constructor, who when some one made a remark on the impossibility of making a finer Cupola than that of the Pantheon, burst out into the following exclamation: “Do you think so? Then I will throw it in the air,” and he fulfilled his word; for the cupola of St Peter’s is exactly of the size of that of the Pantheon, tho’ at such an elevation as to give it only the appearance of one fourth of its real size, or even less. The sublimity of the design can only be equalled by the boldness and success of its execution. Till it was done, it was thought by every artist impossible to be done. What an extraordinary genius was this Michel Angelo! Ariosto has hot at all exaggerated in his praise when he speaks of him in punning on his name:
_Michel_ piu che mortal, _Angel_ divino.[88]
Michael, less man than Angel and divine.
–Trans, W.S. ROSE.
Among the various splendid marble monuments with which this temple abounds is one erected to the memory of Pope Rezzonico, constructed by Canova and reckoned one of his masterpieces. The Pope is represented in his canonicals. Behind and above him is a colossal statue of Religion with a cross in one hand and rays in form of spikes issuing from her head. I do not like these spikes. On the dexter side of this monument, is a beautiful male youthful figure representing a funereal genius with an inverted torch. The signal delicacy, beauty and symmetry of this statue forms a striking contrast with the figure of an immense lion sleeping on the sinister side; and this lion is an irrefragable proof that Canova excels in the delineation of the terrible as well as the beautiful, for it is admirably executed.
At another monument is a superb female figure of colossal size representing Truth. It was formerly naked, but they have contrived to execute in coloured marble a vestment to cover her loins and veil her secret beauties. The reason of which is, that this beautiful statue made such an impression once upon a traveller (some say he was an Englishman, others a Spaniard) that it inspired him with a sort of Pygmalionic passion which he attempted to gratify one night; he was discovered in the attempt, and since that time, to prevent further scandal or attempts of the sort and to conceal from profane eyes the charms of the too alluring Goddess, this colored marble vestment was imagined and executed. This story is borrowed from Lucian.[89]
There is also here a fine statue of Pope Gregory XIII and a magnificent bas-relief, the subject of which is the reform of the calendar by that Pope. Here too is a monument to Christina Queen of Sweden, and a bas-relief representing her abjuration of the Lutheran Faith.
But why should I attempt to detail all these monuments, while it would require folios for the purpose; let me rather introduce you to the hero and tutelary saint of this sanctuary. St Peter, a superb bronze statue something above the usual size of men, is seated on a curule chair in the nave of the church on the right hand side as you approach the baldachin. He holds in his hands the keys of Heaven. He receives the adoration of all the faithful who enter into this temple, and this adoration is performed by kissing his foot which, from the repeated kissings, is become of a bright polish and is visibly wearing away. The statue was formerly a statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, but on the grand revolution among the inhabitants of Olympus and the downfall of Jupiter, it was broken to pieces, melted down and fabricated into an image of St Peter, so that this statue has lost little of its former sovereignty and still rules Heaven and Earth if not with regal, with at least vice-regal power, tho’ under a different name.
In the Sistine Chapel is the celebrated painting al fresco of the day of Judgment by Michel Angelo, an aweful subject and nobly and awefully executed.
In the porch under the facade of St Peter’s are two marble statues on horseback, one at each end of the porch: they represent Constantine the Great and Charlemagne, the two great benefactors of the holy Catholic Church; the one, in fact, its founder, the other its preserver.
As the Palace of the Vatican stands close to the Church of St Peter’s and communicates with it by an _escalier_, I ascended the _escalier_ in order to behold and examine the famous Museum of the Vatican, the first in the world, and unique for the vast treasures of the fine arts that it contains; treasures which the united wealth of all Europe and India to boot could not purchase at their just price. Here in fact it may be said are preserved the riches and plunder of the whole world, which was stripped of all its valuables by those illustrious brigands the ancient Romans. And mark in this point the good fortune of Rome; instead of losing them again as other nations have lost their trophies, Superstition came to her aid and caused them to be respected and preserved, ’till an enlightened age arose which guided by Philosophy, Humanity and Science will for ever preserve them secure against all attacks of barbarians in a sanctuary so worthy of them.
_Museum Vaticanum_[90]
A superb flight of steps leads into a hall of immense length filled on each side with statues, busts, sarcophagi, altars, urns, vases and candelabra, all monuments of antiquity and of the most exquisite workmanship. The walls on each side of this hall are inlaid with tablets bearing inscriptions in Greek, Latin and Etruscan. One is quite bewildered amongst such a profusion of Gods, Semi-Gods, Heroes. I must single out a few of the most remarkable for their workmanship. Here is a group representing the sacrifice of Mithras. On ascending a few steps at the other end of this hall, in a small octangular room, are the statue of Meleager; the famous Torso; the tomb of Scipio with bas-reliefs. On leaving the chamber you come into an octangular gallery, issuing from which are four circular chambers; each chamber contains a masterpiece of art. In one is the Apollo Belvedere, in another the Laocoon (both safely arrived from Paris); in the third Antinous; in the fourth the Perseus of Canova, with Medusa’s head and his famous group of the two pugilists. Descriptions of the three first would be superfluous– for of them
Mills altri han detto e con via miglior plettro,
and even with respect to the Perseus of Canova, I shall content myself with remarking that the sculptor had evidently the Apollo Belvedere in his ideal, and if he has not quite equalled that celebrated statue, it is because it is impossible; but he certainly has given the nearest possible approximation to its excellence.
In another hall and just at its entrance are the statues of Menander and Posidippus in a sitting posture, one on either side. In this hall are innumerable fine statues, but the further end of it, fronting you as you enter, is a statue which at once engages and rivets your undivided attention; it at once induces you to approach and to take no notice of the statues on the right and left of the hall. And how should it be otherwise, since it is the identical statue of the father of the Gods and men, the famous Jupiter Capitolinus which adorned the Capitol in ancient Rome. He is sitting on a throne with a sceptre in one hand and the thunderbolts in the other, at his feet an eagle. It is a glorious statue and in every respect characteristic; such grandeur, such majesty in the countenance! It is impossible not to feel awe and reverence on beholding it. It was on contemplating this venerable statue that an Englishman who was at Rome some sixty years ago, stood wrapt for a time in silent veneration; then suddenly breaking silence he made a profound obeisance before the statue and exclaimed: “Recollect, O father of the Gods and men, that I have paid my hommage to you in your adversity and do not forget me, should you ever raise your head above water again!”
In the hall of the Muses are the statues of the tuneful Nine which were found underground among the ruins of Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli.
In the centre of a circular chamber of vast dimensions, is an enormous circular basin of porphyry, of forty-one feet in diameter. A superb mosaic adorns the floor of the centre of this chamber, and is inclosed. Appropriate ornaments to this immense chamber are the colossal statues of the _Dii majorum Gentium_. Here are Juno, Minerva, Cybele, Jupiter, Serapis, Mars, Ceres, and others.
In another hall are two enormous Egyptian Gods in yellow granite; two superb sarcophagi in red marble and two immense Sphinxes in granite. In another chamber is an antique car drawn by two horses: the near one is modern, the off one ancient. The wheels of this car are modern; both car and horses are of exquisite workmanship. Several fine statues adorn this chamber, among which the most remarkable are a Phocion, a Paris, an Antinous, and a Triton carrying off a Nereid.
I must not omit to mention that in one of the halls is the famous group of the Nile, represented by an enormous colossal River God, surrounded by fourteen children playing with young crocodiles. Opposite to this group is another equally celebrated, viz., the colossal statue of the Tiber, with the she-wolf giving suck to Romulus and Remus by his side. The mosaic pavements in this Museum surpass in richness any in the world. In one of the halls, among the works of modern times, are two beautiful marble tables richly inlaid with all sorts of stones of value, with bas-reliefs on them; the one representing the visit of the Emperor Joseph II, and the other that of Gustavus III of Sweden to Rome, and their reception by the Pope.
One of the halls of sculpture is appropriated to the figures of animals of all kinds, from the lion and eagle down to the rat and crawfish in marbles of all colors, and of all sizes; the best executed among them appeared to me a group representing a greyhound bitch giving suck to her young. As for the valuable cameos, coins, medals, and smaller remnants of antiquity in this Museum, they are innumerable.
With regard to the paintings that belong to this Museum, there is only a small, collection but it is unique. Here is the Transfiguration and some other masterpieces of Rafaello.
In the _Stanze di Rafaello_ (so they are called) are several large fresco paintings, viz., one representing the battle of Maxentius and Constantine; another, the school of Athens and Socrates sitting among the other philosophers; a third representing a fire; besides others.
In one of these _stanze_ is a work in tapestry representing Jesus Christ bursting forth from the sepulchre, but he has a visage far too rubicund and wanting in dignity; he looks like a person flushed with wine issuing from a tavern; in the countenance there is depicted (so it appears to me) a vulgar, not a dignified triumph.
The Palace of the Vatican is of immense size and is said to cover as much ground as the city of Turin; and I am inclined to think that there is not a great deal of exaggeration in this statement, for the vista along the corridors and galleries appears to be endless. The Library of the Vatican is of course very extensive and of immense value; but the books, as well as the manuscripts, are kept in presses which are locked, and it is rather awkward to be continually applying to the _custode_ to take out and put back a book.
The Museum of the Vatican is open twice a week to the public, viz. Thursdays and Sundays; but foreigners, on shewing their passports, may obtain admission at any time.
ROME, 17th Sept.
My next visit was to the Capitol in order to inspect the _Museum Capitolinum_. This time I ascended the magnificent _escalier_ of Michel Angelo, having the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius in front. On arriving at the courtyard, I entered the building on my left (which is on the right of the facade). Under the colonnaded portico of this wing are the statues of Caesar and Augustus; here too is the naval column of the consul Duilius, in commemoration of the first naval victory gained over the Carthaginians; also a colossal statue of the Rhine called Marforio. In one of the halls two large statues of the Egyptian Goddess Isis and various other Egyptian divinities. In this Museum among other things is an altar representing Claudia drawing to the land the Ship of Cybele; a magnificent sarcophagus with a bas relief on its side representing the progress of life; Amalthea giving suck to Jupiter; the God Anubis found among the ruins of Adrian’s palace at Tivoli. On ascending the staircase, I observed on the right hand fixed in the wall a tablet with a plan of ancient Rome carved on it. In one of the halls above stairs the most remarkable statue is that of the dying gladiator (brought back from Paris); this is certainly a noble piece of sculpture; the bodily pain and mental anguish are singularly well expressed in the countenance; a superb bronze statue of Hercules; a Centaur in black marble; a Faun in _rosso antico_; a group of Cupid and Psyche; a Venus in Parian marble rather larger than the common size. One of the halls in this museum contains the busts of all the philosophers; another those of all the Roman emperors; there is also a colossal statue of Pyrrhus; a superb Agrippina and the celebrated mosaic of the four pigeons. In enumerating the above I have only to observe that they only constitute a thousandth part of what is to be seen here. After passing three hours in this wing of the building, I went over across the courtyard to the other wing. Under the portico of this wing the following are the most remarkable among the statues: a Roman _triumphans_, two Phrygian kings in black marble. In one of the rooms above stairs is a very remarkable piece of antiquity, viz., the bronze wolf giving suck to Romulus and Remus, which was found in the temple of Romulus and which was struck by lightning during the consulate of Julius: the marks made by the lightning are quite distinct. There is in this wing a small but excellent collection of paintings, and a great variety of statues, busts, sarcophagi, candelabra, and antiquities of all sorts.
The front part, or _corps de logis_ of the Capitol is called _Il Palazzo del Senato conservatore_, and is the residence of the _Senator Romano_ who is chosen by the Pope. By the bye, I understand this dignity is generally given to a foreigner, the Pontiffs being, rather jealous of the Roman nobility.
This wing of the Capitol employed me two hours; but I must visit this Museum as well as that of the Vatican often again; for it would require months and years to examine them duly.
ROME, 18th Sept.
On this side of the river which is called _Transtevere_, I had an opportunity of observing the inhabitants, who are called _Transteverini_, the most of whom pretend to be the descendants of the ancient Romans, unmixed with any foreign blood. They certainly have very much of that physiognomy that is attributed to the ancient Romans, for they are a tall, very robust race of men having something of a ferocious dignity in their countenance which, however, is full of expression, and the aquiline nose is a prominent feature among them. They are exceedingly jealous of their women, whom they keep within doors as much as they can, and if a stranger on passing by their doors should chance to observe their wives or daughters who may be standing there and should stop to admire them (for many of them have an air of antique beauty and majesty of countenance which is remarkably striking), they will instantly order the females to retire, with an air of asperity.
Whether they really be the pure descendants of the ancient Romans is difficult to say: but it is by no means improbable, since even to this day they intermarry solely with one another, and refuse to give their daughters in marriage to foreigners or to those of mixed blood.
Instances have been known of these families, who are for the most part very poor, refusing the most advantageous offers of marriage made to their daughters by rich foreign merchants and artists, on the ground merely that the suitors were not _Romani_ but _Barbari._
As for the _bourgeoisie_ of Rome in general, they _have been_ for some centuries back and _are_ a very mixed race, composed of all the nations of Europe. Most of the foreign artists who come here to study the fine arts, viz., Belgians, Dutch, German, French, English, Swedes, Danes, Poles and Russians, as well as those from other parts of Italy, struck with the beauty of the women, and pleased with the tranquility and agreeable society that prevails in this metropolis, and the total freedom from all _gene_ and etiquette, marry Roman women and fix here for life: so that among this class you meet with more foreign names than Roman; and it is this sort of colonisation which keeps up the population of Rome, which would otherwise greatly decrease as well from the celibacy of the number that become priests, as from the malaria that prevails in and about the city in July and August.
ROME, 19th Sept.
I have been employed for the last two days in visiting some of the churches, _palazzi_ and villas of modern Rome; but the number is so prodigious and there are such a variety of things to be seen in each that I shall only make mention of a few; indeed there are many that I have not seen and probably shall not have time to see. As sacred things should precede profane, let us begin with the churches.
The first that claims the attention of the traveller after St Peter’s, is the church of St John Lateran which is the oldest church in Christendom, and was the metropolitan of Rome and of the Christian world before the building of St Peter’s. It lies very nearly in a right line with the _Piazza di Spagna_, and on a prolonged line, forming an obtuse angle with the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, which, as I first visited, I shall first describe and afterwards resume what I have to remark on the subject of St John Lateran.
Santa Maria Maggiore is the third church in importance, but the second in magnificence in Rome. Before its facade stands a single column of granite of the Corinthian order. The facade of this church is beautiful but it would be far better without the _campanile_, which I think always disfigures a church of Grecian architecture; besides it is not in the centre of the building. The church is richly adorned with mosaics and its several chapels are admirable from the execution of their architecture and sculpture and the value of the different rich marbles and precious stones with which the monuments therein are made and incrusted. Among these Chapels are those of Sixtus V, Paul V. The grand altar is of porphyry. But the most striking beauty of this church and which eclipses all its other ornaments, are the forty columns of beautiful Grecian marble on each side of the nave. The ceiling, too, is superb and richly gilt; the gilding must have cost an immense sum and was done, it is said, with the first gold that