The staircases gradually decreased as we ascended, until, at length, they became so contracted, as scarcely to be capable of admitting a man of more than ordinary size, and who, if he did succeed in reaching the copper ladder which leads immediately into the ball, must have then disencumbered himself of his dress, to have made good his entry into that place.
On arriving within the ball, we found it capacious enough to contain several persons, and were told that no less than from sixteen to twenty had been within it at the same time; but they must have been of the same quality with Pharaoh’s lean kine; or, as I have heard Scotchmen express it, “a heap of fellows.”
During my stay in Rome, I frequently repeated my visits to its more interesting points, as the Capitol, St. Peter’s, and the Pantheon, and traversed the city and its neighbourhood; by which repetitions I imagine that I gained almost as correct ideas, as if I had actually seen these objects.
That beautiful and venerable building, the Pantheon, must not be passed over without a more particular notice.
“Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands,
Amid the domes of modern hands,
Amid the toys of idle state,
How simply—how severely great.”
This temple, which from its round form, has obtained the name of the Rotunda, is a hundred and fifty feet in height, and about the same in diameter; it is divided into eight parts, one of which forms the entrance gate: each of the other seven compartments, consists of two fluted Corinthian pillars, and as many pilasters of Giallo Antico. The capitals and bases are of white marble, and support a circular entablature. The wall is perpendicular for half the height of the temple, and then gradually slopes off as it ascends, forming a dome, the centre of which consists of an aperture twenty-five feet in diameter.
There are no windows, the above opening at the top, admitting a sufficiency of light, and producing a finer effect than windows could have done. No great inconvenience can result from this opening; the conical form of the temple prevents the rain from falling near the walls where the altars now are, and where the statues of the gods were formerly placed. The rain which falls in the middle, immediately passes through holes which perforate a large piece of porphyry, that forms the centre of the pavement; the whole of which consists of various pieces of marble, agate, and other materials, which have been picked up from the ruins, and now compose a singular kind of Mosaic work.