On April 3rd I left Rome early in the morning by the Porta San Lorenzo, Tiburtina. The road I took was fairly level, and ran through a country which was for the most part fertile cornland and sparsely populated, like all the approaches to Rome. I crossed the Teverone, anciently the Anio, first at the bridge of Mammolo, and second by that of Lucan, the old name of this bridge being still retained. On this bridge are divers ancient inscriptions, and the chief of these is still easily legible; moreover, two or three Roman tombs are yet standing along this road. Few other antiquities are to be seen, and on the Via Tiburtina itself only a very little of the ancient pavement in great blocks. After a journey of fifteen miles, I arrived in time for dinner at Tivoli, the ancient Tiburtum.
TIVOLI
From Civitates Orbis Terrarum
To face p. 166, vol. ii.
This town lies at the foot of a range of mountains, the houses being built along the somewhat steep ascent of the lower slopes. On this account the site and the prospect therefrom are magnificent, forasmuch as the view extends over a boundless plain, and includes the great city of Rome. It faces the sea, the mountains stand in the rear, the stream of the Teverone flows through it and, close by, takes a marvellous leap, descending from the mountains and disappearing in a chasm of the rocks some five or six hundred paces below. Afterwards it reaches the plain, where it follows a course greatly varied, and joins the Tiber a little above the city. In Tivoli is to be seen the famous palace and garden of the cardinal of Ferrara, a most exquisite piece of work, but unfinished in several parts and likely to remain so, as the cardinal now owning it has stopped all operations.[128] I looked at everything minutely, and I would attempt to set down here some representation thereof, if so many books and illustrations had not been already published. This outburst of a countless number of jets of water, turned on or off by a single appliance manipulated at some distant point, I had seen elsewhere during my travels, notably at Florence and Augsburg, as I have already recorded. Here real music is produced from a sort of natural organ, which always plays the same tune, by the means of water which falls with great force into a round vaulted recess where it disturbs the air and forces it to seek an exit, and at the same time supplies the wind necessary to make the organ pipes sound. Another stream of water turns a wheel fitted with teeth, which are set so as to strike in a certain order the keyboard of the organ, and the sound of trumpets is also counterfeited by the same agency.
THE VILLA D’ESTE AT TIVOLI
To face p. 166, vol. ii.
In another place one may hear the song of birds, which is produced by small bronze flutes, such as are seen at feasts, and give a sound similar to that produced from those little earthen vessels full of water into which children blow with a mouthpiece. This is worked by mechanism like that used in the organs; and by another device an owl is made to appear on the top of a rock, whereupon all the harmony ceases at once, the birds being terrified at his presence. Then the owl retires and they sing again. Thus they may be brought forward and made to retire in turn as long as any one likes. Elsewhere a noise like the report of a cannon is produced, and again other sounds, less loud and very frequent, like the fusilade of arquebusiers. This is made by the sudden falling of water into certain pipes, the air therein, by struggling to find a vent, causing this noise. These same inventions, or something like to them, working by the same natural causes, I have seen in other places.
There are many pools or reservoirs edged all round with stone balustrades, on the top of which are set divers high columns of stone, distant one from the other about four paces. From the summits of these pillars the water spouts forth with strong impetus, not upward, but down towards the water in the basin. All the jets, being turned inwards and facing one another, discharge the water into the tank with such velocity that, when the threads of water collide in the air, they let descend into the basin a thick and continual mist. The sun falling upon the same produces on the surface of the basin, in the air, and all round about, a rainbow so marked and so like nature that it in no way falls short of the bow seen in the sky. I saw nought to equal this elsewhere.