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