Our next object is the Villa of Mæcenas, where the remains are more considerable than in any other, exhibiting, besides the usual substructions, part of a court surrounded by half columns and arches, and a long gallery, whence you command the valley below. The ancient Roman road passed under this villa, part of which was lately appropriated to a foundery for cannon, and an abundant stream of water still dashes through the deserted vaults.
Within the city, a circular wall of reticulated work, at the back of the cathedral, is supposed to mark the position of the Temple of Hercules; and a double range of vaults of considerable length, is known by the name of the Portico of Hercules. It has square pilasters in front, which serve as buttresses to the vaulting.
The construction of the Villa d’Este is on a scale which may entitle it to be mentioned among these ancient productions. Terrace rises above terrace, and a copious supply of water rushes down an artificial rock 34 feet in height, spreading in a beautiful manner as it descends, while the whole is crowned by the long façade of the palace.
LETTER XXXVI.
SUBIACO—PALESTRINA.
Rome, 31st May, 1817.
After I had pretty well explored the neighbourhood of Tivoli on that side towards the Campagna, I was desirous to look at the aqueducts remaining on the other side. About two miles from my inn, at a place where a brook called Fosso degli Arci crosses the road to Siciliano, are several fragments. Fosso, as perhaps you know, is the Roman name for a brook. The Roman aqueducts which derive their origin from the valley of the Anio above Tivoli are, the Anio vetus, the Marcia, the Anio novus, and the Claudia. The first we meet with at this place is the Marcia, which is here subterraneous, running along the side of the hill. It passes under that of the Anio vetus where that crosses the road, and is there composed of a mass of rubble, intermixed with some brickwork. We then lose it; but some piers of the same nature, on the steep banks of the brook, probably belong to it. The second is the Anio vetus, which passes here on a higher level than the Marcia, contrary to what takes place at Rome, where the latter is the highest; but it is supposed to be known by its thick crust of deposit, the water of this arriving turbid at Rome, while the others were clear. Yet the crust of the Claudia is of immense thickness, and indeed it seems too abundant in all of them, to be depended upon to distinguish any one. This tartar is deposited at the top as well as at the sides, proving the channel to have been completely filled. We have the evidence of Frontinus to prove, that the water of the Anio vetus might have been brought on a much higher level to the city, had it been supported in its course on numerous arches, like the Claudia and Anio novus. It here crosses a depressed part of the road, over an arch constructed of square stones. The core of the work is of rubble, but there is no appearance of brick. Frontinus says that it is taken from the river at the twentieth mile above Tibur, but antiquaries dispute whether this is twenty miles from Rome, the words above Tibur being added to show its position; or whether its origin be twenty miles from Tibur or Tivoli. The length of its course being forty-three miles, seems too much for one supposition, and too little for the other, considering how much it winds. It is considerably elevated, and Cabral and Del Re assure us, that its level at Tivoli is one hundred and fifty palms, or above a hundred feet above the river; a difference far too great to be obtained in the course of a mile or two; which is all that can be allowed, if the distance be measured from Rome. A few paces beyond the channel of the Anio vetus, the Claudian aqueduct crosses the road on a lofty arch of rubble, faced with brick. There are some blocks of tufo on both sides of the stream, which look as if they had supported an aqueduct lower than any of these, but they are perhaps the remains of an ancient bridge, which is more unequivocally the case with some other fragments of rubble-work. This aqueduct may again be seen among the vineyards, crossing a valley nearer to Tivoli, and there is a considerable construction, perhaps connected with it, between the road and the Anio. On the other side of the Fosso degli Arci, we meet again with the remains of two of these aqueducts. They are soon lost, but about a mile further on, we find a massive construction upon arches crossing a little valley, and just beyond this, an apparent ramification, and a much more extensive range of arches, but more destroyed. I endeavoured to trace this branch, which seems to be that which Frontinus mentions as having been made and then deserted. It perforates the hill, crosses another valley in two parallel lines, which unite again, passes through another hill, and is found coasting the valley of the Fosso degli Arci, considerably above the place where I had quitted it. The foundations are carried to the edge of the brook, and the watercourse here could only be just high enough to enable it to pass the natural channel of the little stream without obstructing it: here we lose it. Where the channel itself can be examined, we find a deposit of tartar, but not of the thickness that it is down below. All the hills thus perforated are of a volcanic tufo, or peperino, for although the valley of the Anio be essentially among the limestone of the Apennines, yet for some miles above Tivoli, it abounds in abrupt eminences of volcanic deposits. Towards Vico Varo we again see traces of an aqueduct crossing the Anio, which is probably the Marcia, or a tributary stream called Augusta, said to be equal in purity to itself. Below Tivoli, we find again three of these aqueducts, on the slope of the hill above the villa of Hadrian. The Anio vetus is traced round an ancient sepulchre, at a very small distance from Tivoli, and the sharp curve it makes to avoid the tomb, has occasioned so large a deposit, as to prevent the free passage of the water; and a new channel was consequently formed for it. Their course here is in a direction nearly opposite to that of Rome, and I am always at a loss to know why their constructors should take so much pains to maintain an elevation so greatly beyond what appears necessary.
On the 25th I left Tivoli, intending to walk to the villa of Horace, and afterwards to Subiaco. The road follows the valley of the Anio, and numerous fragments of vaults and foundations, are evidence that villas were erected also on this side of Tivoli, but there are none to be compared in situation, or in the importance of the existing ruins, to those which command the Campagna. An inscription found in one of these has occasioned it to be supposed that the Numidian Syphax resided here, as it is known that he died in the neighbourhood; but the genuineness of the monument is disputed. About eight miles from Tivoli we reach Vico Varo, the Varia of Horace. The name remains, though nothing of the ancient town is in existence, except part of the walls, constructed of large squared blocks of stone. I had heard of a temple here, but found instead a half Gothic chapel of an octagonal form, and of the latest period. In inquiring for this chapel I had plenty of offers to carry me there, and to Licenza, and the villa of Horace, and I engaged a ragged little fellow for that purpose; on the way he told me how many Ingresi he had served, and what fine handsome men they were; and of course how generous, and how well they had paid him. He inquired my name, and when I had told him, he exclaimed, “Bel nome, era il nome del marito di nostra signora,” and I was immediately, “Sor Giuseppe,” “Sor mio Giuseppe,” and “Caro mio sor Giuseppe.” He then proceeded to tell me that he had gone to bed without supper, and had eaten nothing that morning; “e nondimeno sto sempre allegro così,” but a modification was added afterwards, that he had eaten nothing but the tops of the traveller’s joy (Clematis vitalba), which indeed we saw a parcel of women and children gathering for a similar purpose. Our path lay up the valley of Ustica, a fertile and beautiful vale, cultivated at the bottom, with woods on the slopes of the hills, and villages on the tops. One of these, called Rocca Giovane, is supposed by some antiquaries to occupy the site of the putre fanum Vacunæ mentioned by Horace. The opinion rests on the authority of an inscription found, or said to have been found there, of the emperor Vespasian; recording the restoration of a temple of Victory, fallen into decay by age, and it is supposed that Vacuna and Victory were names of the same goddess. The valley divides at the foot of the mountains, into three little valleys, or ravines, each watered by a streamlet. The middle is the principal one, and since my return I have been told of a beautiful spring which furnishes it, at the distance of two or three miles, which my informant considered as the true Fons Bandusiæ of Horace. Licenza, the ancient Digentia, stands on a high point of land between this and the right-hand, or eastern branch, and we were obliged to climb up to the village in order to find the present occupier of the villa of Horace; my plan had been to obtain a bed there; but appearances were not promising, and finding myself in good time, I determined to return, and proceed to San Cosimato; I therefore procured some eggs and curd, the best dinner to be had, and walked with my new guide to Fonte Bello, supposed, but without sufficient reason, to be the Fons Bandusiæ. We are here quite among the mountains. The fountain is a small spring at the foot of an insignificant rock, the water of which does not taste cold, and therefore has probably been previously exposed to the influence of the air. A little above this is a larger rock, hollowed out into caves, and shaded with trees and shrubs (but unfortunately, not with ilex), and from its foot a few trifling threads of water passed over the ground, between it and the before-mentioned rock, and joined the water of the spring: the situation is a narrow, rocky ravine, filled with wood, above which Monte Gennaro rises in several summits, and forms, with its ramifications, all these valleys. The point immediately above us, on the south, is called Monte Campitelli, and is pointed out by the people of the place, as the ancient Lucretilis, a name which more probably belonged to the whole mass of mountain. In passing from the spring to the villa of Horace, we met with another supply of water, much more copious and beautiful, but this is conducted artificially along the hill, and discharges itself over an arch into a large basin; it is called the Fonte del Oratino. There is a third spring, but of the smallest size, immediately behind the villa. Of this villa itself there are no apparent remains, except one trifling fragment of wall; but there is a flat space now occupied by one vineyard and part of another, whose surface has the appearance of an artificial level, under which, at the depth of about eighteen inches, traces of foundations are observable, and a mosaic pavement in good preservation. They told me of vaults and baths, but altogether under the present surface. There can be no doubt that Horace’s Sabine villa was hereabouts, in the upper part of this valley; and it may have been on this very spot, but we have no proof. As for the Fons Bandusiæ, I am afraid that we have no sort of reason for believing it to be in this neighbourhood. The Abbé Chaupy, who has published a long work on the subject, insists that it was near Venosa, the native country of Horace; and he even finds there the name of Bandulia, which is sufficiently near. Unfortunately, there is no fountain, but that may have been filled up in the lapse of eighteen centuries. I hope you are perfectly convinced.[[9]] After seeing what was to be seen, I returned down the valley, but instead of keeping the road by which I had ascended, directed my course to the Franciscan convent of San Cosimato, where the good fathers gave me a supper and bed, and entertained me with a number of stories about snakes found among these mountains. I gave my young ragamuffin his dinner at Licenza, and five pauls when I got to the gate of the convent, but he still begged for more, and followed me into the monastery, and into my bed-room to obtain it. I told the superior how much I had given, and he replied that it was too much, and that two pauls would have been sufficient: all this passed in the boy’s hearing, yet he still continued his importunity. The lower classes here seem to find no shame in begging, under any circumstances. As nothing is therefore lost by it, and they may possibly gain, they consider that it is foolish to lose anything for want of asking, or even of urging their demands to the utmost. The situation of this convent is on the edge of a wild romantic chasm, through which the Anio passes. Between Vico Varo and Tivoli this river runs quietly along an open valley, generally through a soil of a volcanic deposit; and where we see the more solid rock, it is the native limestone of the Apennines. A long tongue of land begins somewhere in the neighbourhood of Vico Varo, which extending obliquely along the valley, seems at one time to have dammed up its waters till they found or formed the present cleft. This tongue is entirely of a stony deposit like that at Tivoli, and abounds with caverns, some of which are shewn as the residence of St. Benedict. Near Fonte Bello is a rock, the fragments scaling from which have exactly the appearance of giallo antico; in other places we meet with a calcareous breccia, and in one place I observed a dark trap-like looking substance. It is remarkable that none of the springs in this valley appear to form the deposit which the river leaves so abundantly in certain places.
I do not know if I should give you any idea of the country above this convent, by comparing it to the finest parts of South Wales; the points of difference are perhaps more numerous than those of resemblance: there is more cultivation; the wood is carried higher up the mountains; and the high rocky points above, are higher and more abrupt. In one respect it is very different from anything in our country; the villages are on the hill tops, and if you were to imagine Settle placed on the summit of the High hills which rise behind it, or Giggleswick at the top of the scar which bears its name, you will still have a very inadequate idea of their situation. Defence and health have probably been the original motives, but they must be very inconvenient places of residence. The magnificence of this scenery increases as we proceed, and the valley alternately contracted into passes, or dilated into basin-like hollows, affords continual variety. The late wet weather had brought agriculture to life again, and the inhabitants were busily employed in its labours. The soil seems very rich, and there are fine, flat bottoms, which are planted with maple trees supporting vines, and underneath these, various crops, of which Indian corn is the principal. Some poles just put into the ground are, as I was told, of a tree which yields sugar. This is intended also to support the vines, but as there were no leaves, I could not tell if it was the sugar maple. On the road side are some beautiful springs, the supplies perhaps of some of the ancient aqueducts.
Subiaco stands on a rock quite at the extremity of the open part of the valley; all beyond as far as I could see was mountain and ravine. I asked for the Osteria, and was directed to a very good-looking house, when a well-dressed man came up, and telling me I should get nothing there, recommended me to another a little further on; I complied with his advice, but on asking for some food at this latter place, the answer was “Non c’è niente.” I thought I had not gained much by the exchange, but at last I succeeded in obtaining a frittata, and bread and cheese and lettuce, and then set out to see the baths of Nero. In the way we pass the remains of a very extensive building, which is said to have been the palace of that emperor. The baths themselves consist of a few vaults of no great interest, but the situation is remarkable, on the edge of a deep and rocky ravine, in which runs the Teverone or Anio. Tradition reports the lower part of this ravine to have been once a lake, and indeed the circumstances of the place are such as might easily suggest such an idea. The river passes through a break in the ridge of limestone rock; and the opening, though it must be near 100 feet deep, is not more than 20 or 30 wide. On the opposite side of this ravine stands the convent of Santa Scolastica, most picturesquely placed, which I visited the next morning in spite of the rain; and a little farther is that of St. Benedict. Various caverns at different heights in the face of an almost perpendicular rock, were ennobled by the retreat of St. Benedict. The wall of the convent is built close against the lower part of this rock, which retreats sufficiently to form commodious apartments in the upper part of the building, and we find here a church of considerable size, communicating by flights of steps, with a series of chapels, which occupy the ancient caverns, of all of which the native rock continues to make a part. The lowest of these chapels is I think at least 60 feet below the church. The irregular disposition; the variety of levels, several of which are seen frequently at one view; the broad flights of steps by which they communicate with each other; the mixture of natural grottos with the piers and vaults of Gothic architecture, all of which are covered with paintings; together with the savage character of the external scenery, combine to produce an effect, which is I believe perfectly unique, and would be alone worth the trip to Subiaco. Nor must we forget that the paintings themselves possess a double interest, from the fine character and expression of many of the heads, and from being some of the earliest specimens of the restoration of the arts in Italy. At Santa Scolastica are some fragments taken from the baths of Nero. Little columns about four feet and a half high, of rich marbles, are attributed to this source. At St. Benedict I observed nothing of the sort, but its architecture has another merit from the introduction of the pointed arch in the eleventh century; yet Italy is not the place for studying Gothic architecture. My guide to these places was a youth, who reminded me so strongly of one of my English friends, that I could hardly help speaking to him in English. On coming away, I inquired for my bill, and this youth was sent up to me with the message, “Si crede che deve essere uno scudo.” An extravagant demand could hardly be made more modestly, and it was extravagant in proportion to the accommodation, and to what is usually paid in Italy. I returned for answer, that I was willing to pay seven pauls, and the reply was that I might pay what I pleased. The Italian innkeepers in these remote places are ready enough to make an exorbitant demand, but they are equally ready to retract, if they find that you know pretty well what ought to be paid. Do not pretend to satisfy them; if they perceive that you expect from them any acknowledgment of that sort, “Signor, è poco,” would be the answer, should you give them ten times their due.
The weather continued very threatening, but I hired a mule to carry me to Samida, twelve miles distant, half-way to Palestrina. The road ascends the hills, and makes many a turn to preserve in some degree its elevation, in passing from one village to another, and yet we seem to be always going up or down. From this track we look down upon rich bottoms of some extent; the sides of the hills are likewise in general of a fertile loam, with only one or two sandy spots, and now and then a mass of rock bursting from the slope. The road passes all the way through vineyards, olive-grounds, corn-fields, meadows, and woods of chesnut. The produce of the latter forms among the Apennines a very important part of the food of the inhabitants, but the peasants were employed in many cases in grubbing them up, to make room for a more profitable crop, and that in situations, where the slopes were steeper and longer, than in any cultivated ground I have ever seen in England. The distant views, as the path attained the more elevated ground, presented a succession of mountains of varied shapes, mostly covered with wood, but with a few bare and rocky summits rising to a great height. Those we had seen from Rome covered with snow, could be at no great distance, but the clouds hung low, and either from this circumstance, or from my being too closely surrounded by lower eminences, I saw nothing of them. It seemed a very long and laborious ascent to Rocca San Stefano; but when there, on looking up to the left, I saw another village on a point of rock far above me. The road was in general a good mule-path, but there were some bad spots. I left my mule at Samida, which is the highest point on the road, and proceeded on foot to Genezano, which is situated on an advancing point of rock, deep in the valley below. I was surprised to find it so large and populous a place. The want of easy internal communication prepares us to expect nothing but small towns in these parts. What a difference good roads would make here! A gentleman at the gate pressed me eagerly to take some refreshment with him, and as I had some curiosity as well as he, I should certainly have accepted his invitation, if it had not been getting late; and I was unwilling to postpone my arrival at Palestrina, on account of the difficulty I apprehended of obtaining accommodation for the night. I passed through Cavi, and across a comparatively level country, at least, with only low and fertile hills, instead of mountains; and intersected by winding valleys, bounded by steep slopes. It was rich and woody; there was however something about it which put me in mind of our manufacturing districts. I found no difficulty in getting a lodging at Palestrina, and I engaged a boy to shew me the objects of the neighbourhood for twenty-five bajocchi per day, a bargain with which he was well pleased, but like all the Italians, wanted something more than his agreement when we parted.