Cestius presided over the Roman sports. His name is not found in history, but rendered famous by his tomb. The massive pyramid that inclosed him defends his death from the oblivion which has utterly effaced his life. Aurelian, fearing that this pyramid would be used but as a fortress from whence to attack the city, had it surrounded by walls which still exist, not as useless ruins, but as the actual boundaries of modern Rome. It is said that pyramids were formed in imitation of the flames that rose from funeral pyres. Certainly their mysterious shape attracts the eye, and gives a picturesque character to all the views of which they constitute a part.
In front of this pyramid is Mount Testacio, beneath which are several cool grottoes, where fêtes are held in the summer. If, at a distance, the revellers see pines and cypresses shading their smiling land and recalling a solemn consciousness of death, this contrast produces the same effect with the lines which Horace has written in the midst of verses teeming with earthly enjoyment:—
------"Moriture Delli,
* * * *
Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens
Uxor."
'Dellius, remember thou must die—leaving the world, thy home, and gentle wife,' The ancients acknowledged this in their very voluptuousness; even love and festivity reminded them of it, and joy seemed heightened by a sense of its brevity.
Oswald and Corinne returned by the side of the Tiber; formerly covered with vessels, and banked by palaces. Of yore, even its inundations were regarded as omens. It was then the prophetic, the tutelar divinity of Rome.[1] It may now be said to flow among phantoms, so livid is its hue—so deep its loneliness. The finest statues and other works of art were thrown into the Tiber, and are hidden beneath its tides. Who knows but that, in search of them, the river may at last be driven from its bed? But, while we muse on efforts of human genius that lie, perhaps, beneath us, and that some eye, more piercing than our own, may yet see through these waves, we feel that awe which, in Rome, is constantly reviving in various forms, and giving the mind companions in those physical objects which are elsewhere dumb.
[1] Plin. Hist. Nat., 1, 3. Tiberis, quam libet magnorum navium ex Italo mari capax, rerum in toto orbe nascentium mercator placidissimus, pluribus probè solus quam cæteri in omnibus terris amnes, accolitur, aspiciturque villis. Nullique fluviorum minus licet, inclusis utrinque lateribus: nec tamen ipse pugnat, quanquam creber ac subitis incrementis, et nusquam magis aquis quam in ipsa urbe stagnantibus. Quin imo vates intelligitur potius ac monitur, auctu semper religiosus verius quam sævus.
[CHAPTER III.]
Raphael said that modern Rome was almost entirely built from the ruins of the ancient city; Pliny had talked of the "eternal walls," which are still seen amid the works of latter times. Nearly all the buildings bear the stamp of history, teaching you to compare the physiognomies of different ages. From the days of the Etruscans—a people senior to the Romans themselves, resembling the Egyptians in the solidity and eccentricity of their designs—down to the time of Bernini, an artist, as guilty of mannerism as were the Italian poets of the seventeenth century, one may trace the progress of the human mind, in the characters of the arts, the buildings, and ruins. The Middle Ages and the brilliant day of the De Medici, reappearing in their works, it is but to study the past in the present, to penetrate the secrets of all time. It is believed that Rome had formerly a mystic name, known but to few. The city has still spells, into which we require initiation. It is not simply an assemblage of dwellings; it is a chronicle of the world, represented by figurative emblems. Corinne agreed with Nevil, that they would now explore modern Rome, reserving for another opportunity its admirable collection of pictures and statues. Perhaps, without confessing it to herself, she wished to defer these sights as long as possible: for who has ever left Rome, without looking on the Apollo Belvidere and the paintings of Raphael? This security, weak as it was, that Oswald would not yet depart, was everything to her. Where is their pride? some may ask, who would retain those they love by any other motive than that of affection. I know not—but, the more we love, the less we rely on our own power; and, whatever be the cause which secures us the presence of the object dear to us, it is accepted with gratitude. There is often much vanity in a certain species of pride; and if women, as generally admired as Corinne, have one real advantage, it is the right to exult rather in what they feel than in what they inspire.