Under the palace itself are several vast cellars and ventilating chambers, artificially made, which give out a cooling vapour and temper the air in the basement, but this portion of the palace is still imperfect. In this villa I observed many statues of great merit, the most notable being two nymphs, one dead, and the other asleep; a Pallas with divine attributes; a replica of the Adonis which is in the palace of the bishop of Aquino; a wolf in bronze; a boy extracting a thorn, like the one in the Capitol; the Laocoon and the Antinous, after those in the Belvedere; the Comedy, also of the Capitol; and the Satyr of the country villa of Cardinal Sforza; a copy of a recent work, the Moses, from the tomb in S. Pietro in Vinculo, and of the beautiful woman who is at the feet of Pope Paul III. in the new church of Saint Peter’s. These same statues, indeed, gave me greater pleasure than any others in Rome.[129]
Pratolino was certainly built in rivalry with this place. In the richness and beauty of the grottoes Florence is far superior, but the gardens of the cardinal of Ferrara surpass Pratolino in abundance of water. As to the various diverting artifices produced by water-work, they are about the same, what though the Florentine designer may have produced a more elegant effect in laying out and ordering the ground. This palace certainly has the advantage in antique statues, and in the house itself. The Florentine erection, in the beauty of its site, and in the view over the adjacent country, is vastly superior to that of the cardinal of Ferrara. I should, however, have nothing but praise for the natural surroundings of the villa at Tivoli were it not that by ill-luck all the water therein, except that flowing from a fountain in a little garden high up, of some which is brought into one of the apartments of the palace itself, is the water of the Teverone, a branch of which the cardinal has manipulated and cut therefor a special canal for his own use. If this water were only clear and good to drink, instead of being turbulent and dirty, this place would stand beyond all comparison, especially with regard to the great fountain and its adjuncts, which in construction and aspect is the most exquisite work to be seen in this garden or in any other place. At Pratolino, on the other hand, all the water comes from springs, and is brought from afar. For the reason that the Teverone comes down from mountains still higher than those of Tivoli, divers of the people of the neighbourhood make what use they list of the river water, wherefore the cardinal’s handiwork seems less noteworthy, because others have done the same thing.
On the morrow I departed after dinner, and passed by a vast ruin on the right-hand side of the road, which is by report six miles in extent. This was formerly a villa, and known as the prædium of the Emperor Adrian.[130] The road from Tivoli to Rome crosses a rivulet impregnated with sulphur. The banks of the stream are all white therewith, and the stench may be smelt half a league away, but no medicinal use is made of the water. In this stream may be found divers little substances compounded of the scum of the water, which are so much like our medicinal powder that few could tell the difference, and the people of Tivoli make out of this same material all sorts of medicaments, two boxes of which I bought for seven sous and six deniers. In Tivoli are divers antiquities, two terminal images of a very ancient shape, and the remains of a temple with several columns still perfect, which legend declares to have been the temple of the ancient Sibyl. However, on the cornice thereof there may still be seen five or six large letters; but this inscription seems to have been left unfinished, for the stonework beyond them is still intact. Whether any other letters preceded these I know not, as on that side the wall is ruined. All that are now visible run as follows: Ce ... Ellius L. F. What may be their signification I cannot say.
THE TEMPLE OF THE SIBYL AT TIVOLI
To face p. 174, vol. ii.
In the evening we arrived at Rome after a journey of fifteen miles. I travelled in a coach without any tedium or discomfort, a rare experience with me. The people here pay more careful heed to one particular usage than in any other place; that is to say, for the sake of health they find out the different characteristics of the various streets and quarters of the city, and even of the suites of apartments in their houses. This consideration is held to be of such high importance that they always change their residence according to the seasons. Even those who live in hired dwellings maintain at great cost three or four houses, so that they may shift at the proper season according to the advice of their physicians.
On the 15th of April I went to take leave of the Maestro del Sacro Palazzo[131] and his associate. They begged me “to pay no regard to the censures which had been passed upon my book; censures which, as certain Frenchmen had informed them, contained many ignorant statements: they declared that they honoured my purpose, my affection towards the Church, and my ability: that they rated my good breeding and conscientiousness highly enough to allow me at my own discretion to cut out of my book with my own hand, at the next reprinting of the same, any passages which might seem too plain spoken, and amongst others those remarks about Fortune.” It seemed to me that they were not ill pleased with me: moreover, to justify their careful examination of my book and their condemnation of the same in divers particulars, they instanced several contemporary books, written by cardinals and ecclesiastical personages of high repute, which had been censured for blots of a like character, the good name of the author and the book itself having been left quite scatheless thereby. They ended by begging me to give the Church the benefit of my eloquence (these are their usual mots de courtoisie) and to make my abode with them in this peaceful and untroubled city. Both of these men were of high authority and competent for the cardinalate.
We tasted artichokes, beans, and peas about the middle of March.
In April it is light at what they call ten hours,[132] and, as I well believe, at nine when the days are at their longest.