The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
A. B. Clayton del from Sketches by J Woods
Wm. Miller Sculp.
Ruins on the Palatine Towards the Circus Maximus.
LETTERS
OF AN
ARCHITECT,
FROM
FRANCE, ITALY, AND GREECE.
BY
JOSEPH WOODS, F.A.S. F.L.S. F.G.S.
AND CORRESPONDING MEMBER
OF THE SOCIETY OF GEORGOFILI AT FLORENCE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
JOHN AND ARTHUR ARCH, 61, CORNHILL.
1828.
J. M‘Creery, Tooks Court,
Chancery-lane, London.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOL. II.
ROME.
Wall of Tarquinius Superbus, 1.—Circus of Sallust, 1.—Temple of Venus Erycina, 2.—Villa by Milizia, 2.—Fontana di Termini, 2.—Santa Maria della Vittoria, 2.—Bath of Dioclesian, 3.—Church of San Bernardo, 3.—Santa Maria degli Angeli, 4.—Convent, 5.—Agger of Servius Tullius, 5.—Church of Santa Bibiena, 5.—Temple of Minerva Medica, 5.—Columbarium of the family Aruntia, 5.—Temple of Venus and Cupid, 6.—Arch of Dolabella and Silanus, 6.—San Stefano Rotondo, 6.—Navicella, 7.—Church of Santa Maria di Navicella, 7.—Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo, 7.—Nymphæum, 8.—Church of San Gregorio, 8.—Chapel of St. Andrew, 8.—Septizonium, 8.—Circus Maximus, 9.—Aventine, 9.—Church of Santa Saba, 9.—Monte Testaccio, 9.—Burying-ground, 10.—Pyramid of Caius Cestius, 10.—Arch of San Lazzaro, 10.—Strada Marmorata, 10.—Madama Lucrezia, 10.—Church of S. Marco, 10.—Palazzo di Venezia, 11.—Rinuccini, 11.—Altieri, 11.—Doria, 11.—Sciarra, 11.—Monte Citorio, 12.—Solar obelisk, 12.—Palazzo Ghigi, 12.
TRASTEVERE—WALLS.
Church of San Carlo nel Corso, 13.—Gesù e Maria, 13.—Palazzo Rondadini, 13.—Mausoleum of Augustus, 13.—Ripetta, 13.—Palazzo Borghese, 14.—Church of Sant Agostino, 14.—San Luigi de’ Francesi, 14.—Palazzo Madama, 14.—Piazza Navona, 15.—Portico of the church of San Pantaleo, 15.—Palazzo Braschi, 15.—Pasquin, 16.—Church of Santa Maria dell’ Anima, 16.—Church of Santa Maria della Pace, 16.—Cloisters, 16.—Chiesa Nuova, 17.—Oratorio of San Filippo Neri, 17.—San Giovanni de’ Fiorentini, 17.—Bridge of Sant Angelo, 17.—Mausoleum of Hadrian, 17.—Hospital of Spirito Santo, 18.—Porta di Spirito Santo, 18.—Church of Sant Onofrio, 18.—Palazzo Corsini, 19.—Fontana di Ponte Sisto, 20.—Church of the Trinità de Pellegrini, 20.—Monte di Pietà, 20.—Botanic garden, 20.—Fontana Paolina, 20.—San Pietro in Montorio, 20.—Tempietto of Bramante, 21.—Santa Cecilia, 21.—Isola Tiberina, 22.—Temple of Æsculapius, 22.—Palazzo Mattei, 22.—San Carlo a’ Catinari, 22.—Santa Maria sopra Minerva, 22.—Statue of our Saviour, 23.—Porta del Popolo, 23.—Walls, 23.—Muro torto, 23.—Porta Pia, 23.—Prætorian camp, 24.—Porta San Lorenzo, 24.—Porta Maggiore, 24.—Aqueducts, 24.—Anfiteatro castrense, 25.—Porta San Giovanni, 25.—Porta Latina, 25.—Porta San Sebastiano, 25.—Porta San Paolo, 26.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROME.
Scenery about Rome, 27.—Casino of Raphael, 27.—Villa Borghese, 28.—Villa Poniatowski, 28.—Villa Giulia, 28.—Acqua acetosa, 29.—Monument to St. Andrew, 29.—Ponte Molle, 29.—Torre di Quinto, 29.—Tomb of Ovid, 30.—Villa Madama, 30.—Monte Mario, 30.—Valle d’Inferno, 30.—Porta Angelica, 31.—Villa Albani, 31.—Ponte Salario, 31.—Ponte Lamentano, 32.—Mons Sacer, 32.—Aqueducts, 32.—Torre Pignattara, 35.—Degradation of Roman architecture, 36.—Ruins composed of reticulated work, 36.—Torre degli Schiavi, 37.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROME.
Baths of Caracalla, 39.—Great Halls, 39.—Tomb of the Scipios, 40.—Arch of Drusus, 41.—Sepulchre of Mars, 41.—Church of Domine quo vadis, 42.—Church of St. Sebastian, 42.—Catacombs, 42.—Spoliarium, 43.—Very ancient sepulchre, 43.—Circus of Caracalla, 43.—Temple of Honour and Virtue, 44.—Temple of the Tempest, 44.—Temple of Bacchus at the Caffarelli, 45.—Grotto of Egeria, 45.—Temple of Rediculus, 46.—Sepulchre of Cecilia Metella, 47.—Appian Way, 48.—Roma Vecchia, 48.—Roman roads, 48.—Roman Temples, 49.—Tre Fontane, 49.—Villa Pamfili, 49.—Workshops (Canova), 50.—Thorwaldson, 50.—Fragments of Veii, 51.
TIVOLI.
Campagna, 52.—Lago de’ Tartari, 52.—Lago di Solfatara, 53.—Ponte Lucano, 54.—Plautian monument, 54.—Sepulchres of the Sereni, 54.—Hadrian’s villa, 54.—Stage to Tivoli, 57.—Figures of Saints and Gods, 57.—Temple of Vesta, 57.—Opus incertum, 57.—Church of St. George, 59.—Waterfall, 59.—Villas, 60.—Villa of Horace, 61.—Villa of Q. Varus, 61.—Cyclopean Walls, 62.—Villa of V. Bassus, 64.—Vetriano, 64.—Quarries of travertine, 64.—Aqueducts, 65.—Cascatelli, 66.—Acqua Aurea, 66.—Temple of the World, 67.—Temple of Tosse, 67.—Villa of Mæcenas, 67.—Temple of Hercules, 67.—Portico of Hercules, 67.—Villa d’Este, 67.
SUBIACO—PALESTRINA.
Aqueducts, 68.—Road to Vico Varo, 70.—Villa of Syphax, 70.—Vico Varo, 70.—Rocca Giovane, 70.—Licenza, 71.—Fons Bandusiæ, 71.—Villa of Horace, 72.—Convent of San Cosimato, 72.—Valley of the Anio, 72.—Subiaco, 73.—Baths of Nero, 73.—Convent of Santa Scolastica, 74.—Convent of St. Benedict, 74.—Road to Palestrina, 75.—Genezzano, 75.—Palestrina, 76.—Temple of Fortune, 76.—Cyclopean Walls, 77.—Temple of the Sun, 77.—Villa of Constantine, 78.—Roman pavement, 78.
TUSCULUM—ALBANO—OSTIA.
Procession to obtain rain, 79.—St. Peter’s toe, 79.—Frascati, 79.—Grotto Ferrata, 80.—Tusculum, 80.—Mondragone, 81.—Sepulchre of L. V. Corvinus, 81.—Rocca del Papa, 81.—Monte Cavo, 82.—Via triumphalis, 82.—Villa of Domitian, 83.—Villa of Pompey, 83.—Lago di Albano, 83.—Emissario, 84.—Baths of Diana, 84.—Thermæ at Albano, 85.—Tomb of the Curiatii, 85.—Remains of the Appian way, 85.—Aricia, 85.—Lake of Nemi, 85.—Nemi, 86.—Velletri, 86.—Cross-roads, 87.—Cora, 87.—Temple of Hercules, 87.—Temple of Castor and Pollux, 88.—Vases found at Marino, 88.—Ostia, 90.—Mal aria, 90.—Port of Trajan, 91.—Sea-shore, 92.—Veii, 92.—Gabii, 93.—Sylva sacra, 94.—Nettuno, 94.—Antium, 94.—Ardea, 94.
JOURNEY TO FLORENCE.
Companions in journey, 95.—Church at Monte Rosi, 96.—Nepi, 96.—Cività castellana, 96.—Poetical labourer, 97.—Otricoli, 97.—Narni, 97.—Terni, 97.—Cascade, 98.—Somma, 102.—Spoleto, 102.—Temple of Clitumnus, 103.—Foligno, 104.—Perugia, 104.—Thrasymene, 105.—Cortona, 106.—Grotto of Pythagoras, 106.—Arezzo, 106.—Church of the Pieve, 106.—Chapel in cathedral, 107.—Effects of slender supports, 108.—Murder, 108.
MODENA—PARMA—MANTUA—FERRARA.
Boboli gardens, 110.—Cascine, 110.—Comparison of Florence and Rome, 110.—Walk to Bologna, 111.—Volcano, 111.—Boiling spring, 112.—Cathedral at Modena, 113.—Italian Gothic, 113.—Reggio, 113.—Santa Maria di Consolazione, 113.—Parma, 114.—Cathedral, 114.—Baptistery, 114.—Paintings of Coreggio, 114.—Church of the Steccata, 114.—Academy, 115.—Palace, 115.—Language, 115.—Po, 116.—Mantua, 116.—Cathedral, 116.—Palazzo del Tè, 117.—Church of St. Sebastian, 117.—Sant Andrea, 117.—Fish-market, 118.—Ponte di Lago Scuro, 118.—Ferrara, 119.—Cathedral, 120.—Echoes, 120.—Journey to Imola, 121.—Faenza, 121.—Raphael, 121.—Agriculture, &c. 122.
RAVENNA.
Ravenna, 124.—Church of San Vittore, 124.—Spirito Santo, 125.—Church of Santa Agata Maggiore, 125.—Monograms, 126.—San Giovanni della Sagra, 126.—San Francesco, 127.—S. Apollinare nuova, 127.—S. Apollinare at Classe, 127.—Baptistery, 128.—Santa Maria in Cosmedim, 129.—S. Vitale, 129.—Sepulchre of Galla Placidia, 130.—Sepulchre of Theodoric, 131.—Palace of Theodoric, 132.—Library and museum, 133.—Tomb of Dante, 133.—Cathedral, 133.—Campanile, 133.—Pine wood, 133.—Rimini, 134.—Bridge of Augustus, 134.—Arch of Augustus, 134.—Cathedral, 135.—Want of patriotic feeling among the Italians, 136.—Senegaglia, 137.—Ancona, 137.—Arch of Trajan, 137.—Cathedral, 138.—Santa Maria della Piazza Collegiata, 138.—Loreto, 139.—Piazza, 139.—Church, 139.—Holy house, 139.—Apothecary’s shop, 140.—Sermon, 140.—Miracles, 142.—Journey to Macerata, 142.—Theatre, 143.—Apennines, 143.—Return to Rome, 144.—Roman amusements, 146.
ACADEMIES.
Scheme of English academy, 147.—English academy, 148.—Roman academy, 149.—Milizia, 149.—Instruction to a young architect, 155.
SPECULATIONS AT ROME.
Use of bricks, 163.—Republican edifices, 163.—Progress of ornament, 165.—Character of the Italians, 168.—Division of employment at Rome, 169.—Rome, the capital of the world, 169.—Purgatory, 172.—Present state of Italy, 172.
NAPLES.
Feeling for art in Italy, 174.—Journey to Naples, 174.—Postillion murdered, 175.—Terracina, 176.—Fondi, 177.—Itri, 177.—Sepulchre of Cicero at Mola, 177.—Capua, 177.—Inn at Naples, 178.—Palaces, 178.—Royal palace, 178.—Theatre of San Carlo, 178.—Castello nuovo, 178.—Palace of the Studii, 179.—Cathedral, 179.—Church of Santa Restituta, 181.—Chapel of San Gennaro, 181.—Gerolomini, 182.—Church of St. Paul, 182.—Sangro chapel, 182.—Church of San Domenico maggiore, 183.—Santa Chiara, 183.—Trinità maggiore, 184.—Annunziata, 184.—San Pietro ad aram, 184.—Santa Maria del Carmine, 184.—Blood of St. Januarius, 185.—Neapolitan life, 186.—Coins, 187.—Comparison of Rome and Naples, 189.—Toledo, 190.—Views from Naples, 190.—Chiaja, 190.—Capo di Monte, 191.—Albergo Reale de’ poveri, 191.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF NAPLES.
Grotto of Pausilippo, 192.—Pozzuoli, 193.—Temple of Jupiter Serapis, 193.—Temple of Neptune, 196.—Amphitheatre, 197.—Solfatara, 197.—Lake of Agnano, 198.—Grotto del Cane, 198.—Villa of Cicero, 199.—Monte nuovo, 199.—Arco Felice, 199.—Cuma, 199.—Amphitheatre, 199.—Lake of Acheron, 199.—Stufe of Tritola, 200.—Baths of Nero, 200.—Lucrine Lake, 200.—Lake of Avernus, 200.—Bridge of Caligula, 201.—Bases of columns in the sea, 201.—Campanian way, 201.—La Mergellina, 202.—Santa Maria del parto, 202.—Hill of Pausilippo, 202.—Tomb of Virgil, 202.—Excursion to Baiæ, 203.—School of Virgil, 203.—Capo Miseno, 204.—Dragonara, 204.—Elysian fields, 204.—Piscina mirabile, 204.—Cento camarelle, 204.—Tomb of Agrippina, 204.—Temple of Hercules, 204.—Temple of Venus genitrix, 205.—Temple of Mercury, 205.—Temple of Diana, 205.—Ruins at Baiæ, 205.—Camaldoli, 206.—Excursion to Pompei, 207.—Herculaneum, 208.—Torre del Greco, 208.—Torre dell’ Annunziata, 208.—Pompei, 208.—Ponte della Maddelena, 209.—Old Capua, 209.—Caserta, 210.
JOURNEY TO ATHENS.
Journey to Bari, 211.—Robbers taken into service, 212.—Foggia, 214.—Bari, 214.—Cathedral, 215.—Church of San Nicola, 215.—Norman church at Bari, 215.—Residence at Bari, 216.—Journey to Otranto, 216.—Lecce, 218.—Style of architecture, 218.—Otranto, 219.—Olive trees, 219.—Voyage to Corfu, 220.—Modern Greek buildings, 220.—Greek dress, 220.—Soil of Corfu, 221.—Journey to Santa Maura, 222.—Agioneesi, 222.—Santa Maura, 224.—Leucas, 224.—Voyage to Patras, 225.—Voyage to Vostizza, 226.—Journey to Corinth, 227.—Antiquities at Corinth, 228.—Voyage to Athens, 228.
ATHENS.
Greek apartments, and mode of life, 229.—Topography, 230.—Ilissus, 231.—Cephisus, 231.—Nature of rock, 232.—Effect of first-rate productions, 232.—Review of objects in journey, 233.—Arrival at Athens, 234.—Monument of Lysicrates, 234.—Tower of the winds, 234.—Portico of the market, 234.—Stoa, 234.—Gymnasium, 234.—Temple of Theseus, 234.—Situations of buildings, 235.—Greek temples, 235.—Tiles, 237.—External painting, 237.—Comparison of Greek and Roman ornaments, 239.
ACROPOLIS.
Propylæa, 241.—Temple of Victory without wings, 241.—Very ancient constructions, 246.—Mode of finishing, 246.—Parthenon, 246.—Situation of religious buildings, 247.—Effects of explosion, 248.—Nature of quarries of Pentelic marble, 251.—Desire of obtaining fragments, 253.—Temple of Erectheus, 254.—Temple of Minerva Polias, 257.—Temple of Pandrosus, 257.
OTHER ANTIQUITIES OF ATHENS.
Comparison of Rome and Athens, 259.—Walls of the Acropolis, 261.—Grotto of Pan, 261.—Large entablature, 261.—More very ancient walls, 262.—Choragic monuments, 262.—Theatre of Bacchus, 262.—Odeum, 262.—Temple of Jupiter Olympus, 262.—Progress of foliage, 263.—Arch of Hadrian, 265.—Areopagus, 266.—Pnyx, 266.—Monument of Philopappus, 266.—Stadium of Herodes Atticus, 267.—Bridge over the Ilissus, 267.—Tombs, 267.—Academy, 268.—Colonia, 268.—Lyceum, 268.—Turkish architecture, 268.—Greek churches, 269.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ATHENS.
Piræus, 271.—Tomb of Themistocles, 271.—Munychia, 271.—Phalerus, 272.—Excursion to Daphne, 272.—Written rock, 273.—Salt streams, 273.—Excursion to Hymettus, 274.—Climate of Athens, 275.—Modern Greek, 275.—Mode of life, 278.—Dancing dervises, 279.—Greek carnival, 280.—Greek dress, 281.—Schools in Greece, 285.
EXCURSION ROUND ATTICA.
Temple of Jupiter Panhellenius in Egina, 287.—Comparison of Greek and English scenery, 288.—Temple of Minerva at Sunium, 289.—Remains at Thoricus, 289.—Plain of Marathon, 290.—Ruins at Rhamnus, 291.—Return to Athens, 292.—Plague, 292.
VOYAGE FROM ATHENS TO MALTA.
Temple near the port of Egina, 295.—Pidhavro, or Epidaurus, 296.—Hiero, 296.—Theatre, 297.—Nafplia, 298.—Tyrins, 298.—Argos, 298.—Ruins of Mycene, 299.—Ruins of Nemæa, 301.—Arrival at Corinth, 301.—Basilica, the ancient Sicyon, 302.—Voyage to Patras, 303.—Singular Medusa, 303.—Greek mountains, 303.—Earthquake, 304.—Roman aqueduct at Patras, 305.—Quarantine, 305.—Voyage to Malta, 305.
MALTA.
Quarantine, 307.—Architecture of Malta, 308.—Church of San Giovanni Battista, 309.—Church of San Agostino, 309.—Church of San Domenico, 309.—Palace, 310.—Guard-house, 310.—Library, 310.—Staircases, 310.—Whitewash, 311.—Village churches, 311.—Villages, 311.—Residence, 311.—Language, 312.—Lusieri’s drawings, 312.—Celtic antiquity, 312.—Hills, 312.—Plague, 313.—Cathedral at Città Vecchia, 314.—Grotto of St. Paul, 315.—Boschetto, 315.—Races, 315.—Maltese dress, 315.—Government, 316.
SYRACUSE—CATANIA.
Trabaccolo, 317.—Agusta, 317.—Syracuse, 318.—Temple of Minerva, 318.—Cathedral, 318.—Temple of Diana, 319.—Arethusa (fountain), 319.—Colonnade without the island, 319.—Amphitheatre, 319.—Latomiæ, 319.—Paradiso, 319.—Ear of Dionysius, 319.—Theatre, 320.—Fortifications, 320.—Epipolis, 320.—Aqueducts, 321.—Other Latomiæ, 321.—Capuchin convent, 321.—Cemetery, 321.—Catacombs, 321.—Fountain Cyane, 321.—Temple of Jupiter, 321.—Coffee-houses and people, 321.—Journey to Catania, 322.—Catania, 323.—Museum of the prince of Biscari, 323.—Don Mario, 324.—Baths, 324.—Theatres, 324.—Amphitheatre, 324.—Circular chamber, 324.—Cathedral, 325.—Museum of the Cav. Gioeni, 325.—Museum of the Baron Ricupero, 325.—Museum at the Benedictine convent, 325.—Lava, 325.—Excursion to the summit of Ætna, 326.
TAORMINA—MESSINA—PALERMO.
Ætna, 329.—Journey from Catania, 329.—Taormina, 330.—Theatre, 330.—Tombs, 331.—Gothic doorway, 332.—Journey to Messina, 332.—Cathedral, 333.—Church of Santa Maria Annunziata, 334.—San Giovanni Battista, 334.—Mountains of Calabria, 334.—Speronara, 334.—Voyage to Palermo, 335.—Palermo, 336.—Comparison of different views, 336.—Opinions of the Sicilians as to their own antiquities, 337.—Castle of Zisa, 338.—Casteddu, 338.—Cathedral, 339.—San Niccolò della Kalsa, 340.—Botanic garden, 341.
AGRIGENTUM—SELINUS—SEGESTA.
Journey to Agrigentum, 342.—Belli Frati, 342.—Royal forest of Busambra, 342.—Fibrous carbonate of lime, 343.—Offensiveness of the streams, 343.—Girgenti, 344.—Oratory of Phalaris, 344.—Temple of Juno, 345.—Temple of Concord, 345.—Temple of Hercules, 345.—Temple of Jupiter, 346.—Tomb of Theron, 347.—Temple of Æsculapius, 347.—Temple of Castor and Pollux, 347.—Temple of Jupiter Polieus, 348.—Micaceous marble, 348.—Cathedral, 348.—Warm wind and warm springs at Sciacca, 348.—Journey to Selinus, 349.—Temples at Selinus, 349.—Peculiar capitals, 350.—Ancient quarries, 352.—Journey to Segesta, 352.—Temple at Segesta, 352.—Theatre, 353.—Alcamo, 353.—Parthenico, 353.—Cathedral at Monreale, 354.—Orlando Furioso made into a farce, 354.—Excursion to Cefalù, 355.—Cathedral, 356.—House of Roger, 356.—Cyclopean edifices, 356.—Termini, 356.—Voyage to Naples, 357.
POMPEI.
Accommodations at Pompei, 358.—Soldiers’ quarters, 359.—Covered theatre, 360.—Larger theatre, 361.—Large court and temple of Hercules, 361.—Ionic portico, 362.—Schools, 363.—Temple of Isis, 363.—Temple of Æsculapius, 363.—Forum, 364.—Courts of Justice, 365.—Basilica, 365.—Temple of Venus, 366.—Portico of Eumachia, 367.—Temple of Mercury, 368.—Recess, with number of altars, 368.—Temple of Jupiter, 368.—Triumphal arches, 369.—Amphitheatre, 369.—Private houses, 369.—Paintings, 370.—Tombs, 371.—Villas, 372.—Mosaics, 373.—Indications of the means of confinement and of punishment, 373.—Pantheon, 374.—Baths, 374.—House of tragic poet, 375.—House of Fuller, 375.
NAPLES—PÆSTUM.
Tuscans and Neapolitans, 376.—Villa Galla, 377.—Journey to Pæstum, 377.—Temple of Neptune at Pæstum, 378.—Basilica, 379.—Amphitheatre, 379.—Theatre, 379.—Peculiar style of capital, 379.—Temple of Ceres, 380.—Other foundations, 380.—Walls and gates, 380.—Salt springs, 380.—Tombs, 381.—Cathedral at Salerno, 381.—Ancient baptistery at Nocera, 382.
JOURNEY TO ROME, AND LAST RESIDENCE THERE.
Neapolitan vetturini, 383.—Journey to Rome, 383.—Anxur, 384.—Palace of Theodoric, 384.—Dead-letter office, 385.—Residence at Rome, 385.—Italian preaching, 386.—Capuchin sermon, 386.—Catechising, 386.—Canova’s church, 387.—Dragging the Tiber, 387.—Entertainments and illuminations in honour of the emperor’s visit to Rome, 387.
JOURNEY TO FLORENCE—PISA.
Journey to Florence, 389.—Assisi, 389.—Temple of the Corinthian order, 389.—Cathedral, 389.—Church and convent of St. Francis, 389.—Santa Maria degli Angeli, 390.—Hut of St. Francis, 390.—Residence at Florence, 390.—Vaulting, 391.—Academy, 391.—Pietre dure, 391.—Monte Asenario, 392.—Pratolino, 392.—Journey to Leghorn, 392.—Leghorn, 393.—Pisa, 393.—Peculiar style of architecture, 393.—Cathedral, 393.—Baptistery, 396.—Campo Santo, 397.—Leaning tower, 397.—Church of Santa Maria della Spina, 397.—Domestic architecture, 398.—Baths, 398.—Wood of Pisa, 398.
SCHOOLS.
Lancasterian schools at Florence, 399.—Lancasterian schools at Siena, 401.—Arithmetic, 402.—Schools at the Albergo de’ Poveri, 403.—Schools of the Frati Cristiani, 404.—Romans and Carthaginians, 404.—Scuole pie at Rome, 405.—Scuole pie at Florence, 405.—Contests, 406.—Collegio Romano, 407.—Institution at Florence, 407.—Tuscan system of education, 408.
LUCCA—GENOA.
Lucca, 409.—Cathedral, 409.—St. Michael, 410.—S. Frediano, 411.—Santa Maria foris portam, 411.—S. Giusto, 412.—S. Cristoforo, 412.—Progressive dates, 412.—Cathedral at Pistoja, 412.—Sant Andrea, 413.—Baptistery, 413.—Cathedral at Prato, 413.—Ramparts of Lucca, 413.—Baths of Lucca, 413.—Forest of chesnut trees, 414.—Prato Fiorito, 414.—Road across the mountains to Modena, 415.—Lignite at Ghivizzano, 415.—Viareggio, 415.—Roman baths at Massaciuccoli, 415.—La Bettona, 416.—Monte Cimone, 416.—Woods on the Apennines, 416.—School among the Apennines, 416.—Flames at Birigazza, 416.—Journey to Carrara, 416.—Marble quarries, 417.—Cathedral, 417.—School of sculpture, 417.—Lerici, 418.—Porto Venere, 418.—Gulf of Spezia, 418.—Journey to Genoa, 418.—Genoa, 420.—Cathedral at Genoa, 420.—S. Cyr, 420.—Church of S. M. Annunziata, 420.—Santa Maria di Carignano, 420.—Statue of St. Sebastian by Puget, 420.—Church of St. Ambrose, 421.—Church of St. Stephen, 421.—Tomb of Doria, 421.—Palaces, 421.—Poor-house at Genoa, 421.—Journey to Turin, 422.—Turin, 422.—Cathedral, 423.—Chapel of the Santo Sudario, 423.—San Filippo, 423.—San Lorenzo, 424.—Smaller churches at Turin, 424.—Arsenal, 424.—Theatre, 424.—Palaces, 424.—Botanic garden, 425.—Superga, 425.—Arch of Augustus at Susa, 426.—Walk over Mount Cenis, 427.—Cathedral at Chamberi, 428.—Antiquities at Aix, 429.—Journey to Geneva, 429.
LETTERS OF AN ARCHITECT.
LETTER XXXI.
ROME.
Rome, May, 1817.
Our present walk must include a larger circuit than the former. We pass through the Piazza Barberini, and along the Via di San Basilio, which will presently lead us beyond the inhabited district of the city, and an Englishman begins to feel himself in the country, though within the walls. Here is the Villa Ludovisi, but it is difficult to gain admission; we therefore turn to the right, and at the Viccolo delle Fiamme, enter into the gardens, which, like those passed through by Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, are not divided by fences from one another, but merely secured on the part towards the road. The first thing which offers itself to our observation is a fragment of a wall of large stones, said to be a remnant of that built by Tarquinius Superbus, which was itself a restoration in more solid masonry, of the one first erected by Servius Tullius, to include the Quirinal within the circuit of Rome. A little farther we trace distinctly the form of the circus of Sallust, which occupies a continuation of the hollow between the Pincian and Quirinal hills; and close by it, but not uniformly in a parallel direction, is a series of arches and substructions supporting the hill; but the fragment of Tarquinius Superbus seems to have nothing to do, either with the circus or with these substructions. It is a trifle in itself, but its antiquity gives it interest, and more is said to have been disclosed by digging. At some distance, along the foot of the substructions abovementioned, and close upon the circus, we reach the Temple of Venus Erycina (let the antiquaries quarrel about the name, I use that by which it is commonly distinguished). The principal part consists of a circular, domed chamber, almost buried in the earth and rubbish which has descended from the hill above, with a small semicircular niche, and two square recesses on each side, two of which are open, and give admission to the building. The principal entrance is from a little vestibule, by means of a large arch; and a corresponding arch, with a similar vestibule, opens to the deep cell or adytum of the temple; both these arches interrupt the line of the springing of the dome. This and the other fragments abound in reticulated work.
Issuing from the vineyards, and crossing the long street of the Porta Pia, we may follow the Via del Macao, to look at a house built under the direction of Milizia; but though an able writer on architecture, he was not a good architect.
Our next object will be the Fontana di Termini, the water of which is called Felice, from the name of Sixtus the Fifth, before his elevation to the pontificate; since by him the water was conducted from Colonna to Rome, and this fountain erected under the direction of Fontana. You are surprised both at the quantity of water, and the display of architecture at these Roman fountains. Here are four Ionic columns, with three niches in the intercolumns, from which the water issues; and so far the architectural composition is good, but above there is a pedestal, made of a most disproportionate size, in order to receive the great letters of the inscription, and over that a sort of circular pediment, and other ornaments, which are quite sickening. The sculpture in the niches is large and conspicuous, but in bad taste, and the two beautiful Egyptian lions of basalt, which adorn the lower part, are the most estimable part of the composition. Even these are ill used by the insertion of small pipes, through which they awkwardly squirt out a little water.
Santa Maria della Vittoria just by, in the Strada di Porta Pia, if not one of the beautiful, is at least one of the rich churches of Rome. It was built by Carlo Maderno, who has used a Sicilian alabaster of a dark brown colour, which is not a good material for architecture, and overcharged it with gilding and ornaments. There is even a pretence of forming the doors of this alabaster, which is in bad taste. Doors should either be of wood or metal. The door of a tomb alone, which is supposed to open only once in two or three years, may be permitted to be of marble. The church is not visited so much for its architecture, as for some fine paintings of Domenichino, Guercino, and Guido;[[1]] and for a Santa Teresa in marble by Bernini, which is said to be his masterpiece. The saint is supposed to be dying in the ecstacies of divine love, but the figure wants nature, and the death is a smirking angel, with a gilt dart. Under the principal altar, (which is very rich and very ugly) are preserved the bones of some female saint, I forget who, covered up in a waxen image, and this is gaily dressed in blue and white satin; because, as the priest who conducted me round the church, judiciously observed, the skeleton was a black and disagreeable object, very inconsistent with the appearance of such an elegant altar.
We now pass to the baths of Dioclesian, the remains of which are more considerable than those of any other of the ancient thermæ. These ruins still contain two churches, one of which is dedicated to San Bernardo. It is a small, circular building, placed just at the angle of the outer inclosure, but all the ancient ornaments are gone, except the naked panelling of the dome, and this has been covered with modern stucco. It is in octagons and small squares. There are thirty-two octagons in the circumference, which makes them too small, especially in the upper part. The order in this temple is perhaps rather too high in proportion to the building. The cornice architravata, with which it terminates, has hardly the dimensions of a good architrave, and then comes the dome and its panels, without any interval. The comparison of this with the Pantheon, where the order is too small, may lead us to the just proportions. To avoid the expense of carving, the ornaments are painted on the stucco, and have either been badly executed, or they have faded. The choir forms a deep recess, of which the arched opening is perhaps rather too high, but not so as to interrupt the circular cornice of the order. The effect of the organ, and of the voices of the choir issuing from this recess, appeared to me particularly fine. From the convent behind, we see the remains of the theatre, and one may sometimes obtain admission into the garden which contains it, but there is little to deserve notice. Another circular building corresponding with this, is used as a granary.
The principal object remaining in these baths is the great hall, now converted into the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. This was performed under M. A. Buonarroti, who made the principal entrance at the end. Vanvitelli, the last of the celebrated architects of Italy, re-opened the ancient entrance on the side, and by uniting the circular vestibule with the chief room, and adding a choir on the opposite side, he gave the church length in that direction. The four side niches have been filled up, and the length, or what is now the width, is increased, by opening into it two other chambers. In its present state, the great hall, with the two additional rooms, forms a transept; but as this hall constitutes, on every account, the principal feature of the place, it ought certainly to form the nave, and the alteration was injudicious. We do not expect great purity of taste in the time of Dioclesian, yet the details are by no means contemptible, and the largeness and boldness of the parts produce a great appearance of magnificence.
The first room which we now enter is a circular vestibule, where the supine arches of the four openings are particularly offensive, because they are very large in proportion to the building; some scheme arches in the great hall are also disagreeable, but the hall itself is a noble room, and produces the full effect of its large dimensions. There is a pleasure arising from these large and simple parts, which it is impossible to describe, and which I long in vain to communicate to you. The old work is generally distinguishable from the modern additions; indeed, no pains have been taken to copy exactly the antique. Of the principal columns, four have Corinthian, and four Composite capitals; and this seems to have been originally the case, though the columns themselves are now, some of granite, and some of stuccoed brickwork. The groined vaulting is whitewashed, and has no ornament, except the brass knobs to which the lamps were anciently suspended.
The ground of the church has been raised, because it was damp; we wonder why it should not rather have been drained, since the situation is elevated. The present want of height is a sensible defect; it does not, I think, exceed two-thirds of the width, and perhaps was not originally more than three-fourths. I would by no means attempt in this style of architecture to emulate the proportionate height of the Gothic, whose peculiar character requires great elevation; but the height ought not to appear less than the width, and therefore should probably a little exceed it. If it is more than this, it should be sufficiently increased to make the height the characteristic of the room, the dimension which first impresses itself on the observer. Intermediate proportions would be inferior to either; it is not in architecture alone that half measures fail.
From the church we may visit the convent, both for its ancient fragments, and its modern architecture. It contains a large square, of which the centre is adorned by some noble cypresses, and the surrounding cloisters are said to be the production of M. Angelo. The disposition of the kitchen chimney in this convent pleased me much; it is a deep recess lighted by two windows, and having the stoves placed along the middle. Besides the general flue to take off the steam, &c. there are some smaller ones for the smoke.
Proceeding from these baths to the extremity of the Via del Macao, we find in a vineyard, a mound of earth said to be part of the agger of Servius Tullius, and the range of arches stretching towards the gate of San Lorenzo, is part of the Marcian aqueduct, now carrying the Acqua Felice; but I shall reserve aqueducts and gates to a future letter, and pass on to the church of Santa Bibiena, where there are some ancient columns, and a statue of the saint by Bernini. It has been much admired, but like so many other works of this artist, fails in the want of apparent ease and simplicity of nature. By a gate which is not always open, we may pass into the inclosure containing the ruin, usually called the temple of Minerva Medica, rising in the midst of artichokes and brocoli. The principal remain is a large, domed, decagonal hall, a form not common in the Roman antiquities, with nine large niches, each occupying almost the whole of their respective sides, the tenth being the situation of the doorway; and a window over each. The dome is partly destroyed, and the remaining portion perforated in many places, shewing the ancient construction to have been formed by ribs tending to a centre, while the intervals are filled up with rubble. There are some remains of other rooms adjoining. The whole is overgrown with the lentiscus and other shrubs and plants. It forms a picturesque object, but it seems impossible to determine its primitive destination.
Near this is the Columbarium, or sepulchre of the Aruntian family. You may think there is little resemblance between a tomb and a dove-cot, but this name arises from the little recesses, compared to pigeon-holes, which contain the cinerary urns. It is, I believe, the most perfect of any remaining, and accessible about Rome, but it is seldom that any body is in the way, to exhibit it, and I have not yet been able to obtain admission. We leave this vineyard just by the Porta Maggiore, and passing under the beautifully built, brick arch of the Claudian aqueduct, continue our walk to the Temple of Venus and Cupid, which stands in the garden of a convent. A part of the great niche is nearly all of this which is left standing. Some of the brick facing remains, and a few other foundations of walls, little above ground. The shattered piers and arches of the ancient aqueducts exhibited in these gardens, are perhaps more interesting than the fragment of the temple. By this, is the church of the holy cross, which I have already described to you, as that of the Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, and the Anfiteatro Castrense, which I mean to describe with the city wall, of which it forms part. We then pass under the wall among rows of trees, on turf now covered with the Anemone hortensis, to the church of St. John Lateran, stopping by the way to look at the Triclinium and the Scala Santa. After passing these objects we arrive at the baptistery of Constantine; the obelisk, which is the largest in Rome, and the hospital; a fine establishment, but according to the Roman theory, subject to mal aria nearly as much as the larger receptacle at Santo Spirito, which is under the Vatican and close to the Tiber, while this is in an elevated and airy situation. From this we follow a narrow, winding, and unfrequented lane, which will lead us under the ancient arch of Dolabella and Silanus, consuls under Augustus, in the year of Rome 763. It was of travertine, but it has been eked out with brickwork under Nero, in order to make it carry a portion of the Aqua Claudia from the Cœlian hill to the Palatine.
The Church of San Stefano rotondo is a curious edifice, which has been supposed by some, to have been a temple of Faunus, or of Claudius; others say, with every appearance of reason, that it was no temple at all; but when they proceed to state that it was a market, I follow them with less confidence. The body, or most elevated part, consists of a circular wall supported on twenty columns and two piers. The columns are not all of a size, but on an average are about four diameters apart, and about eight and a half high. The architrave, frieze, and cornice united, only form a sort of architrave, of perhaps one diameter and a half; yet it does not look so much oppressed by the great wall above, as the engravings we have of it give us reason to expect. Faulty and defective as it is, it perhaps might serve as a lesson, that a wall rising immediately on the architrave of a circular colonnade, would not have an unpleasing effect; and that with this simple arrangement, a height equal to the width, would be quite sufficient. At present the building is singularly spoilt, by a wall running across the middle of it, apparently to support the roof; but it is in fact as useless as it is ugly. This wall is open below, with three arches resting on the side walls, and on two Corinthian columns. The capitals of the circular colonnade are Ionic, various, but all bad, and the bases of all forms. The two middle columns are very fine, with good bases, and Corinthian capitals. The cross wall is conjectured not to have been a part of the original building, but nobody knows when it was added. A double aisle surrounds this central part, divided by a range of columns, which are smaller than those of the first circle, and not disposed so as to have any correspondence with them. The outer circuit is a plain wall, but part of the second aisle is divided into chapels. It is completely a building made up with the spoils of others, and the few restorations are miserably executed; circumstances which favour the idea that it was erected in the time of Constantine. It is too bad for us to believe it of an earlier date, and after him, few if any public buildings were executed in Rome, except churches. The piety or superstition of the times seems to have continued the erection of these during the darkest and most unhappy periods of falling Italy; yet there seems to be a deficiency, even of religious structures, from the beginning of the fourth, till towards the end of the seventh century, when a new character and new relations began to develop themselves.
At a very little distance from the church of San Stefano, is the Navicella, a marble boat, placed by Leo the Tenth in front of a church which receives its name from it, but where Leo found it, I cannot tell you. The church was designed by Raphael; a range of five arches forms a sort of portico, above which rises the nave, corresponding in width to three of these arches, and finishing with a pediment. The simplicity of the design, and its apparent correspondence with the internal structure, produce a pleasing effect; but instead of one large window in the end of the nave, Raphael has introduced three small ones, of which the middle is circular, and the composition is sadly spoilt by them. Giulio Romano was employed in painting the internal friezes.
After leaving the Navicella, we may visit the Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo, enriched like so many others, with antique columns of granite and marble, both in the portico and in the nave. I have already mentioned the antiquities in the convent. Continuing our walk along the lane on the side of the church, we pass between massive substructions, and in the garden adjoining there are considerable remains, principally I believe, of the aqueduct of Nero, which is a branch of the Claudian. Piranesi places here the Nymphæum of Nero, with which he unites the Vivarium built by Domitian; here also the house of Scaurus is supposed to have stood, and these fragments may be parts of one or the other, or perhaps of both. Issuing from this lane, we turn to the left, and ascend to the Church of San Gregorio, which is preceded by one of those courts, or atria, which you know I always admire; but in this there is nothing particularly good, beyond the general disposition. The grand object here is not the church, but an adjoining chapel dedicated to St. Andrew, which is one of three united together, but having no communication with the church. This chapel is adorned with two frescos, (not to mention minor objects) one of which represents the flagellation of the saint, by Domenichino, and the other his adoration of the cross, previous to his martyrdom, by Guido. They are very fine, but they are beginning to suffer.
Descending from the church of San Gregorio towards the south-west, we reach the southern angle of the Palatine, where the Septizonium formerly stood. It was destroyed by Sixtus the Fifth, and the columns, and probably some of the other materials, were employed in the Vatican. Antiquaries have imagined from the name, that seven successive orders must have been employed here, not reflecting that three orders would produce the appearance of seven zones or bands. First, the pedestal on which the whole is placed, which forms a solid mass; then a range of columns and voids; then another solid mass composed of the entablature of the first order, and the continued plinth and pedestals of the second. The fourth zone would be composed of the columns of the second order, and the voids between them; these open bands having always a different character and appearance from the solid ones, however composed. The fifth of the entablature and pedestals as before, or if there were no pedestals, by the entablature alone. These solid zones would have the appearance of being striped horizontally by the shadows of the mouldings, while the columns would give to the open bands the appearance of being striped vertically. Sixthly, the columns of the third order. Seventhly, the entablature, and whatever might crown the edifice, and this disposition is exactly correspondent with the idea we entertain of the building from old engravings.
In this part, and along the south-western side of the hills, the remains on the Palatine are very considerable, consisting of lofty piers, and extended arches, but every trace of ornamental architecture has disappeared. Here also we find all that is to be seen of the Circus Maximus, i. e. the general form, favoured by the natural shape of the ground between the Palatine and Aventine hills. I shall not occupy you with any long dissertation on the ancient circus, or on the obscure god Consus, to whom it was dedicated. You know that the general form, in spite of the name, was that of an oblong, with one semicircular end; the other end was not straight, but somewhat curved and inclined, in order as much as possible to put each chariot which started from it, in an equally advantageous situation, and the spina was not placed either precisely in the centre, or exactly parallel to the sides, but in such a manner as to form a road continually narrower as the chariots proceeded in the circuit. A few burrs of rubble-work, and fragments of nearly buried arches, the foundations of the sedili, are all the remains. And now, leaving the baths of Caracalla and the tomb of the Scipios, for the subjects of a future letter, we will cross the Aventine, a hill divided into two summits, on which are the two churches of Santa Prisca, and Santa Saba, and a ruined convent, from which there is a fine view of Rome, and which is itself a very picturesque object. Both these churches contain ancient columns; that of Santa Saba is said in the guide-book, to have twenty-five, two of which are of black porphyry. I found fourteen in the nave, not all alike. Most of the capitals are Ionic, but of different sizes, some pretty well executed, but much degraded; others originally bad; some are merely bossed out, and have never been finished: one is Corinthian, and one is Composite. There are said to be others built up in the wall, but they must be very small. About the altar, are two columns which seem to be chiefly of quartz, but with spots of hornblende, and two of a dark veined marble, but what is meant by black porphyry I do not know. Those of dark marble have Composite capitals, which Uggeri says are of serpentine, but I did not particularly observe them. The front exhibits a gallery of small columns, standing on a high unadorned wall. The contrast is piquant, but perhaps more so where the form is circular, as at the back of Santi Giovanni e Paolo.
On descending the Aventine we have Monte Testaccio in full view. It is a hill 260 feet high, made of potsherds. The meadows in which it stands, are the property of the Roman people, and the scene of many of their festivities. One corner of them forms a burying-ground for heretics, just under the pyramid of Caius Cestius. Who it was that provided for himself such a conspicuous sepulchre, is not determined; but this work of three hundred and thirty days, does not impress one with any great ideas of magnificence; yet it is 113 feet high, and certainly forms a great mass of masonry. There is a chamber within, which is not always accessible, on account of the water. Some pieces of columns were found in digging at the base of the pyramid, two of which were put together and fixed at the angles of the building. I have no idea how they were originally applied, as there does not seem sufficient authority to supply a court and a surrounding portico. These meadows and the mount offer some amusement to the botanist in the spring; the mount especially is almost covered with orchideæ, amongst which Ophrys apifera and tenthredinifera, and Orchis papilionacea, are the most abundant. I found here also Ophrys hiulca and arachnitis of the Flora Romana.
Our next object is the brick arch of San Lazzaro, through which the road passes, though it is filled up nearly to its springing. There are several substructions at the foot of the hill, which appear to have belonged to the same edifice, but what that was, nobody knows.
Hence we walk to the beginning of the Strada Marmorata, the ancient Littus Marmorea, so called, as they say, because the marbles brought from various countries were usually landed here; a very disappointing reason for so fine a name. On the right is a pathway up the hill, and some fragments of antiquity are discernible, particularly a considerable portion of an ancient cornice, built up in a wall. If we continue this upper track, we pass by the churches of Sant Alessio and Santa Sabina, and descend on the Circus Maximus. The other keeps along the shore of the Tiber, and we may notice other substructions on the hill; and in the river, if the water be low, some traces of the Pons Sublicius.
Returning towards the Corso, we may pass by a female colossal bust, which might almost do for a companion to Dr. Clarke’s Ceres, in the vestibule of the public library at Cambridge. It is supposed to be an Isis, but the Romans call it Madama Lucrezia. It stands in a little street which derives its name from the figure, and which opens into the Piazza di San Marco. I have not mentioned the church which gives name to this piazza, among the basilicas, but it however, deserves some notice. The front, of two stories, each of three arches, is neat and unaffected. It was erected in 1468 under Paul II., by Giuliano di Majano, together with the great palace adjoining. Internally, the nave is separated from the side-aisles by twenty columns coated with Sicilian jasper; these support arches, and at a considerable height above them runs a cornice. In the upper part is a range of semicircular-headed windows, and then a flat ceiling with square coffers. The worst part of this composition is in the space between the capitals of the columns, and the cornice, which is altogether ill managed. At the end is a semicircular tribune enriched with mosaics.
The principal front of the Palazzo di Venezia is towards the Piazza. It has an air of solid massive grandeur and of defence, not ill-suited to each other, but there is no other merit.
In this square is also the Palazzo Rinuccini, with five equal windows in front; a small, but much admired edifice. The management of the angles is bad; the finish at top is very bad; the consoles spaced unequally in order to receive the windows, have a bad effect; the doorway is bald, and poor; and all the details are bad; yet with all these faults, such is the efficacy of simplicity, joined to a just distribution of the principal parts, that I, with everybody else, acknowledge it to be a very fine building.
Returning a few steps towards the church of the Jesuits, we find the Palazzo Altieri, an immense pile, once famous for its collection of paintings, but they are now dispersed. The front, towards the Via della Galla, is very good, or at least the masses are fine. That towards the Piazza del Gesù is crowded, and much inferior.
Proceeding along the Corso, we find an immense building that nobody admires, the Palazzo Doria; nor are the rooms within handsome, but the collection of paintings is very fine. The beauty of the Sciarra Palace is much injured by its admired doorway, which is neither good in itself, nor at all suited to its place. In other respects the general distribution of the building is fine, and the parts are well proportioned. Internally, there is a collection of paintings, not large, at least compared with many others at Rome, but exceedingly beautiful. On the upper floor are two fine apartments, decorated in perhaps rather a thin taste, yet on the whole, very elegant. The last room of the principal suite presents the idea of a frame work of gold covered with drapery. It certainly cannot vie with the magnificence of regular architecture, yet it forms an agreeable, and elegant variety, in a suite where the general character is rather that of grace and lightness, than of solidity.
After leaving this we may walk to Monte Citorio, an elevation only of a few feet, which would hardly be observed, unless the name attracted attention. It is said to be produced by the ruins of the Theatre of Statilius Taurus. On the top is a large building called by the same name, containing the courts of justice. The convexity of the front is injurious to its effect. The architect has left, or rather made, some of the window-sills at the extremes of the building, and some other parts, of large irregular masses of stone. I cannot comprehend his motive.
In front of this building is the solar obelisk, which Augustus brought from Egypt, and fixed in the Campus Martius as the gnomon of a sundial. It was found buried and broken in 1748, but was not repaired and re-erected till 1789. The height of the obelisk itself is 68 feet, and it is better, because more simply mounted, than most others in Rome; indeed the pedestal seems to be the ancient Roman one, but the moderns could not be contented without adding a little metal at the top.
I shall not take you to the Palazzo Ghigi to admire the external architecture, which has little merit except in size, or to see the collections, though there are some fine paintings, and some ancient statues restored by Canova, but to see some of the rooms themselves, which are very handsome. One in particular will be numbered among the handsomest rooms (of small dimensions) in Europe. It is 40 feet 9 inches long, 17 feet 9 inches wide, and about 28 feet high, with pilasters on a continued plinth, and a coved ceiling with arches above. The interpilasters are groined into the cove; the angles, both entering and salient, have bold wreaths of flowers; the mouldings, and ornaments of the centre panels, are white upon a buff ground.
With this palace I conclude my letter, having brought you again into the neighbourhood of the Piazza di Spagna. Our next excursion must be to the Trastevere.
LETTER XXXII.
TRASTEVERE—WALLS.
Rome, May, 1817.
I concluded my last with a promise, or perhaps I should say a threat, of a walk in the Trastevere, which I am now about to perform. I shall not however, entirely skip over the intervening ground, but glean whatever occurs on the way; and first I will take you to San Carlo, in the Corso; a church which looks better at a distance than near, because the general form of the front is that of a Greek temple crowned with a pediment, but on approaching we find so many breaks and angles, cutting through cornice, pediment, and everything else, that all beauty of design is lost: the interior is good, but there are others better of the same sort in Rome. Another church in the Corso, is that of Gesù e Maria. Not by any means one of the largest, or richest churches in this city, yet a priest who accompanied me, assured me that he had spent 7,000 crowns, raised entirely by voluntary contributions, in putting up an altar, and otherwise decorating one of the side chapels; and there is no reason to distrust his information. It was dedicated to La Madonna del divin Ajuto, and the father gave me her picture.
Not far from this is the Palazzo Rondadini, famous not in itself, but for two exquisite festoons of fruit and leaves in white marble, built up in the wall of the court. At a very short distance is the Mausoleum of Augustus, originally a vast circular edifice, composed of concentric circles, rising higher as they approached the middle, and forming a succession of terraces adorned with trees,[[2]] as we learn from the medals representing it. The outer circle, or perhaps circles, are now destroyed; and we have only the central mass formed of rubble, with facings of reticulated work, and the upper part reduced into an amphitheatre for the exhibition of fire-works, and of bull-fights. What is below I do not know. Piroli has given a section which represents it as nearly solid.
Our next step will be to the Ripetta, the resort of the smaller barks which navigate the Tiber. A large flight of steps leads down to the water, and a ferry will, if you please, carry you to a footpath across some meadows, affording a pleasanter, but somewhat longer, walk to the Vatican. The long succession of streets which conducts us to the Ponte Sant Angelo, is one of the most disagreeable of the principal avenues of Rome. In it we find the great Palazzo Borghese, shaped as you are told, like a harpsichord, not however from any predilection for this form, but to accommodate it to the shape of the ground. Externally, it has no architectural merit except that of size. Each story has its mezzanine, an arrangement which would be convenient in a large hotel, for the independent accommodation of a number of families, but which wants the unity of a princely residence. The court is admired by some persons, but I do not much like it; it is surrounded by arches supported on coupled columns; an arrangement which has neither the solidity of a pier, nor the lightness, and grace, of a single column.
But who thinks of the architecture, while painting here displays all its glories. The collection is immense, but what is more, the pictures are wonderfully fine. The Deposition from the cross, though executed before Raphael had gained the richness and force of colour exhibited in his latest pictures, in design, and expression, may rank with anything he ever did. I must not begin upon this subject; criticisms on paintings if not excellent, are worthless, and since I cannot hope that mine will stand in the first predicament, I will not expose them to the latter imputation.
The Church of Sant Agostino, is not praiseworthy for its architecture, but it contains some fine Guercinos, and a head of Isaiah by Raphael, which is much admired. In the convent is a library of old books (there are no new ones in Rome), which is open to the public every morning from eight to twelve, except on feast days.
From Sant Agostino, we may visit San Luigi de’ Francesi, which is very rich, and rather handsome (I speak of the inside, the outsides of Roman churches I seldom pretend to criticise). The dome springs from the same height as the vaulting of the nave, the diameter being from angle to angle. Its merits consist in a remarkably fine Francesco Bassan, a painter usually little thought of in Rome but this is really worth seeing for the character of the heads; and a chapel, containing a copy by Guido, of the Santa Cecilia of Raphael, and adorned by the frescos of Domenichino.
We pass by the Palazzo del Governo, i. e. the police office, a rich, but not handsome building, formerly the Palazzo Madama, and by the Sapienza, of which I have already given you some account, and we may go through the church of San Giacomo degli Spagnoli into the Piazza Navona, the ancient Circus Agonalis, or rather the Circus of Alexander Severus, the form of which it preserves. There are no remains visible, but probably some might be found in the cellars of the surrounding houses, if it were worth while to search for them. In the circuit of this long opening, we may admire the church of Santa Agnese, the Palazzo Pamfili adjoining, and the Palazzo Braschi, which I shall shortly describe to you; but of the latter little is seen.
Within the Piazza, the ornaments are three fountains; the middle consists of a great rock, with figures of rivers rising from a large basin; the rock is perforated in both directions, yet on the top is placed an obelisk fifty-one feet high, which was found in the circus of Caracalla. This absurdity is the admired work of Bernini, who is said himself to have been so much ashamed of it, that he pulled up the blinds of his carriage whenever he passed the Piazza Navona to avoid seeing it. Races are sometimes exhibited here, and the people are said to enjoy them the more, because the sharp turn at one end, taking place on the hard pavement, frequently produces serious accidents. If so, something of the detestable gladiator taste of the empire still subsists at Rome, but I hope, for the honour of human nature, that it is not true.
A portico has recently been added to the church of San Pantaleo, in which the Ionic order of the Athenian temple of Erectheus has been imitated; but the moulding within the volute is too strongly marked, and the recess which separates its folds is too deep; these faults quite spoil its effect. It is besides an order of very peculiar character, not suited to every situation.
Close by this is the Braschi Palace, of great size, and built of excellent, pale-coloured brickwork, with stone ornaments. The foundations were laid, according to Uggeri, in this manner. After the trenches were dug, water was introduced to the depth of about a foot, and stones and liquid mortar were thrown in, without order, and formed one solid mass, upon which the walls were afterwards built. According to the same writer this method is common in Rome, and certainly the present edifice does credit to the practice.
Though irregular in its form, and not very good in its details, there is perhaps, no building in Rome which has more the air of a palace. A coach was turning round in the hall, as I entered it for the first time. The staircase is very noble, and rich in marbles; the steps are supported on arches resting on columns, and these arches are not semicircles, with an upright addition to the lower part, to compensate for the different heights at which the columns are placed, but are curved immediately from the lower column, as well as from the upper; the tangent at each springing being vertical. The effect is grand, but the arrangement is not satisfactory, nor have I ever seen any that was, in an open staircase of more than one story, where the steps were too wide to be well supported by their insertion into the wall. There is a collection of ancient marbles in some unfinished rooms, the pride of which is an exquisite colossal statue of Antinous, found at Palestrina. There are also paintings on the second floor, but I could not obtain admittance.
At the angle of this palace is the mutilated trunk called Pasquin, the ancient receptacle of squibs against the government, and against conspicuous individuals; but he speaks no more, though the name is preserved.
If we continue our walk at the back of the Piazza Navona, we shall find the Church of the Santa Maria dell’ Anima: so called from an image of the Madonna with two little figures kneeling to her, representing two souls of the faithful. It would appear therefore, that it ought to be delle anime. The piers are very slender, and the church has this singularity, that the side aisles are as high as the middle. The effect is good, and we may be sure it is owing to the disposition, since the eye is not cheated into admiration by any richness of ornament, or beauty of detail. The altar-piece is by Giulio Romano, a fine picture, but much blackened.
Near this is the Church of Santa Maria della Pace, which has on the outside, a large, semicircular, Doric portico, with coupled columns. There seems no reason for the coupling, and all the other parts are bad. Here are the Sybils of Raphael, which, though they have lost something of their original value by time and retouching, are still fine frescos; and this church also exhibits a small quantity of very beautiful cinque cento ornament. There are also some frescos of Albano.
The cloisters are the design of Bramante; they are formed by arches between columns and pedestals below; and columns backed by little piers, and detached columns over the crown of the arch, form a gallery above. The effect is not displeasing, yet when the columns are thus placed upon arches, (if such a liberty is to be allowed at all) it is better to keep them very small, and put two in each space.
In this quarter of the city stands also the Chiesa Nuova, rich and ugly. In the altar-piece, Rubens has painted one picture within another; the Madonna and Child being separated by a gilt frame from the figures which are adoring them, and which seem therefore to be adoring the picture. Adjoining it is the Oratorio of San Filippo Neri, where you will only go, if you wish to see how ill a great sum of money can be spent.
Before crossing the Tiber, we may visit the Church of San Giovanni de’ Fiorentini, begun by Michael Angelo Buonarroti, but continued either by Giacomo della Porta, or by Sansovino, for it is uncertain which was employed. I should rather attribute it to Sansovino, for Giacomo della Porta is more confused in his arrangement. A continued pedestal runs above the cornice, from which springs a waggon-headed vault with the windows groined into it; and if on this vault there were ribs of architecture, instead of its being whitewashed, as it really is, the disposition and proportions would have a good effect.
The bridge of Sant Angelo was erected by Hadrian, re-erected by Clement VII., and adorned, or disfigured, with unmeaning statues by Bernini, under Clement IX. I do not know that figures are always to be rejected on the balustrades of houses or bridges, yet in fact they seldom look well. This bridge consists of three large arches and two smaller ones on each side, the larger only giving a passage to the river at its usual level, and forming a water-way of 178 feet. The depth in the arches for the greatest part of the year is about 22 feet, according to Piranesi, from whom I have taken these dimensions. In the month of August it falls as low as to 17. In the winter floods it rises to 34, and in 1750 it rose to 43 feet. The whole width of the stream below the bridge is 248 feet in common cases, but it may spread to above 400 without overflowing its banks. I do not know its rate, but it seems a pretty rapid current.
Immediately opposite the bridge, stands the Mausoleum of Hadrian. Augustus built his sepulchre for himself and his family, including servants and dependents, and a large building, if not a sumptuous one, seems necessary for such a purpose. Hadrian is supposed to have built his, with all the selfishness of despotism, for himself alone. Hadrian shall never be my hero; he had no high and generous feeling; yet even he, in his immense villa at Tivoli, had some view towards his fellow-creatures, their wants and welfare. Enough remained of the spirit of liberty to convince him, that his glory was intimately connected with their use and advantage, while Louis XIV. at Versailles, seems to have had all his thoughts begin and end in himself. What remains of this vast burying-place consists of a basement 253 feet square, with a circular tower in the centre, about 192 feet in diameter. This circular part is now a mere mass, but it is said to have been highly adorned with marbles and statues, and surrounded with a magnificent circle of the beautiful columns which are still shown in the church of St. Paul. Notwithstanding this evidence the fact is very doubtful.
St. Gregory saw an angel on the top of this Mausoleum, in the year 593, and from that, the building has obtained the name of Castello di Sant Angelo. Perhaps it would be more correct to say, that the name is derived from the figure of an angel in bronze, commemorative of the event or of the tradition, which now majestically crowns the edifice. This statue was not erected till the time of Benedict XIV., but it was preceded by one executed in marble by Raffaello di monte Lupo.
From this castle are exhibited the famous fireworks of the 28th and 29th June, the feasts of St. Peter and St. Paul, originally designed by Michael Angelo. The first flight of rockets is 4,500, and it forms a complete canopy of fire. The exhibition is over in an hour, and does not linger through half the night. In exhibitions of this sort, and in the lengthened entertainments at theatres and balls, it seems as if there were something in the English character which impels us to drain the cup of pleasure to the dregs.
And now, instead of going up to the Vatican, we will keep to the left, along the street, and by the hospital of the Spirito Santo, where the mortality of the patients is said to be one in three, but I suspect there are circumstances which make a comparison of this sort very fallacious; and to the gate now distinguished by the same name, which divides two parts of the city. It was begun by Michael Angelo, and never was finished, and probably never will be; what is built is in good character, but follows, I know not why, a curved line, when a straight one would have been better. We do not hence pursue our way at once by the long street called the Lungara, but turn up by Sant Onofrio, a church erected about the middle of the fifteenth century, where we see some frescos of Domenichino, worthy a better subject than the legend of St. Jerome; a beautiful Madonna by Leonardo da Vinci; and the tomb of Tasso. Here was also the tomb of Barclay, the author of the Argenis; and the tomb may still exist, but the stone which marked it is gone, because as the priest told me it was roba spurca. I do not know what he meant.
We now return to the Lungara, a long street parallel with the Tiber, with some good houses, or as they are here called, palaces, amongst which are the Farnesina, which I have already described, and the Corsini, which really does deserve the name. It extends above 200 feet along the street, presenting on the principal story, a range of seventeen windows. Though large, it is not handsome. The entrance however, is truly magnificent. Passing through a spacious vestibule, we arrive at the foot of the staircase, which diverging to the right and left, returns in the centre, leaving space for a carriage-road underneath it. Here is an admirable collection of pictures, which I shall not pretend to enumerate, and a fine library, open to the public from nine to twelve, for a considerable portion of the year, but not much attended to of late, as perhaps you will conclude, when I tell you that it contains four copies of the first volume of Stuart’s Athens, and none of the second or third, and when a stranger goes, the librarians seem to perform their task grudgingly. Many things of this sort were at one time to be found in Rome, but none of them are now kept up with spirit.
Behind the palace is the Villa, for as I have already said, this term is applied in Italy to the ground, and not to the buildings. It is delightfully situated on the slope of the Janiculum, but all this part lies under a horrible imputation of mal aria.
Issuing from this palace we may descend to the Ponte Sisto, the ancient Janiculensis, but the present edifice is I believe entirely modern. On the other side is the fountain of this name. The water guggles from a hole in a wall forming the back of an arched recess, into a vase just below, over the edges of which it runs, and falls into the basin at bottom. The architecture is not bad, but the principal fall ought to have been first. A few steps farther on, is the Church of the Santissima Trinità, famous for a picture of the Trinity by Guido. If the head of the Deity had been intended for that of Moses, it would be universally acknowledged sublime, but the attempt to represent this subject, must always produce disappointment or disgust.
Near this is the Monte di Pietà, a public establishment for lending money on pledges, and resembling perhaps in some degree our savings banks.
We return again over the bridge, and ascending by the mills supplied from the Fontana Paolina, go to the botanic garden, which contains but few plants.[[3]] It occupies a situation just above the fountain, which indeed pours forth a river. There are three equal arches discharging as many equal streams of water, and two smaller ones, with only a spout in each. An enormous attic rises above these arches, to receive the inscription, and the whole is crowned with a sort of pediment ornament, much like that at the Fontana Felice, somewhat larger, and considerably worse. The whole merit of the thing consists in the great abundance of water; but it is said not to be good. I do not know precisely whether it is brought from the lake of Bracciano, or from springs in that neighbourhood. It is clear and bright, and supplies fountains and turns mills, to which purpose it is almost exclusively applied, as well as any water could do.
A short walk conducts us to the Church of San Pietro in Montorio, rising on an advancing point of the Janiculum, and commanding a glorious view, including almost all the objects of antiquity in Rome which can possibly be comprised in any general view; and nearly all the modern city, with its domes and palaces; the Tiber; the seven hills, or rather six, for the eye cannot hence distinguish the Viminal, three of which are covered with gardens and vineyards; Monte Testaccio; great part of the walls, and the country beyond them; Monte Albano; and the Apennines.
The church itself has two orders in front, each presenting a single pilaster at each angle of the building. The lower includes a large and handsome doorway, the upper a single circular window. The simplicity of this disposition renders it superior to most of the church fronts in Rome. It was built about 1500, at the expense of Isabella of Spain, wife of Ferdinand the Fourth.
Within this church was once the glory of modern art, the Transfiguration of Raphael, now in the Vatican, after its journey to Paris; and there still is a Flagellation, coloured by Sebastian del Piombo, from the design of Michael Angelo. It is an admirable painting, but like all frescos, in a state of decay.[[4]]
In the cloister of the convent annexed to this church, is the famous Tempietto of Bramante, built on the spot where St. Peter was crucified; and the hole in which the cross stood, is shewn exactly in the centre of the present building. It is a little circular structure, surrounded by a peristyle of sixteen Doric columns, and this circle of columns, with its pedestal and the steps up to it, is beautiful. Everything is well proportioned, and in its just place; but the upper part of the edifice is not good. The parts within the portico are crowded and confused, and the inside has little or no beauty.
From San Pietro we descend to the Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere, and to that of San Grisogono, both of which I have described to you.
That of Santa Cecilia is in a similar style, with ancient columns, and originally a flat ceiling, but this is now replaced by a low elliptical vault, leaving space only for very low windows. The disposition is displeasing in itself, and the more so, from its want of suitableness to the lower parts; an appearance of lightness may be given to a small arch, which cannot by any means be preserved in a continued vault. A row of columns supporting such a vault, has therefore always the appearance of insufficiency. The statue of the saint is much admired.
We will now leave the Trastevere, and pass over the Bridge of Cestius, now of St. Bartholomew, into the island, which is also dedicated to that saint; considerable vestiges of the ancient bridge remain. It was built in the 788th year of Rome, but restored in 368 of the Christian era. In a convent in the island, we find a waxen bust of one of the monks, who was a friend of Canova, made by that artist. It is admirably executed, and coloured like nature, but the stillness of the open blue eyes represents death, and not life. In the garden of the same convent, and from the shore just below it, you may see the small remnants of the temple of Æsculapius, which was built in the form of a ship. Something of this shape is still distinguishable, and also a portion of the serpent. The temple of Vesta, the mouth of the Cloaca maxima, and Ponte Rotto, unite into a fine composition, as seen from the point of the island. After crossing the other branch of the Tiber, on the Ponte di Quattro Capi, which retains in its piers some fragments of the Pons Fabricius, built in 733 of Rome; we may visit the Palazzo Mattei, which I notice, not for its architecture, nor for its paintings, though it contains a fine collection, but for the great quantity of bas-reliefs, built up in the walls. They would make an interesting museum, if put together in a place where they were well seen; but here, besides being exposed to the injuries of the weather, they are almost lost as separate objects, and they take away from what beauty there is in the architecture. In the lower court are some valuable fragments of architectural ornament, built up in the same manner, and in particular, two semicircular windows, where the rich foliage which occupies great part of the opening, shews that the ancients knew how to produce an effect, somewhat similar to that of the tracery in our Gothic windows, and in some respects superior to it, without at all departing from the character of their own architecture.
I have not mentioned the Church of San Carlo a’ Catinari, which however is a fine church, in the form of a Greek cross, or rather a Latin cross reversed, for the choir forms a longer arm than the others, and even these, being nearly equal to the width of the dome, are rather too deep. The gilding and ornament is spotty, but the frescos of Domenichino are very good, not equal however, to those at Sant Andrea.
In our way home we may look at the Church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, in front of which is a paltry little obelisk, mounted upon the back of an elephant. The church was built about 1370, and retains a good deal of the work of that period, but it is only a sort of ill-understood Gothic. This church contains the celebrated statue of our Saviour supporting his cross, by Michael Angelo. Milizia calls it a ruffian, which however it is not; though the action is rather strong. The expression of the head in some points of view is fine, and even sublime; but not equally so in all; the muscles are large and flabby.
In the annexed convent is a library, said to be one of the richest in Italy; it was founded by Cardinal Casanatta, who left a considerable sum for its support, but like other things at Rome, it is a century behind London and Paris, and the Index expurgatorius is a great enemy to all public libraries.
Having given you an account of what is found in the inside of this great city, I shall proceed to the walls which enclose it, beginning with the Porta del Popolo, for the small part between this and the river presents no object of interest. This gate, according to the guide-books, was re-built from a design by Michael Angelo, and executed under the direction of Vignola; but it is not good, and part of it is more ancient, for the holes in the external towers, now filled up, but evidently made in order to get at the metal cramps which fastened the stones together, attest the antiquity of the lower part.
Turning to the right, the wall, strengthened with buttresses and arched recesses, forms the support of the Pincian hill. In this part we find the Muro torto, a great square mass, placed at an angle in the circuit, and corresponding in construction with the walls, that is, it is of rubble-work, with a facing of reticulated tufo. It considerably overhangs its base. There is no opening below, but above there appear to have been recesses and arches, corresponding with those of the wall. Antiquaries are not agreed as to what it has been. Beyond these we have towers and curtains of more modern work, erected for the purpose of city walls. Here and there a very ragged foundation occurs, which is perhaps of earlier date, and in one or two places there are blocks of marble, and other more decisive indications of ancient edifices.
The Porta Pia was opened by Pius the Fourth, in 1561. The designs were Michael Angelo’s, but it has never been finished, nor would it be handsome if it were. Here, by way of ornament, we see pateras with linen hanging over them, said to represent a barber’s basin and towel, and to have been intended by M. A. Buonarroti as a reproach to his employer for the lowness of his origin; but conveying a much severer reproach against M. Angelo himself, if the story be true; but it is exceedingly improbable.
After this we distinguish the external form of the Prætorian camp, and the wall is plain and without towers. In one place there are arches in the upper part, and traces of walls advancing at right angles. After this is a gateway stopt up, with one large scheme arch below, and six little arches above. Then comes the Porta San Lorenzo, built in the same style, perhaps by Aurelian, and repaired in 403, under the most unconquered princes, Arcadius and Honorius, as is recorded by an inscription. Within this is an arch of the aqueduct of the Aqua Marcia, repaired successively by Augustus, Titus, and Caracalla. There are stones disposed pedimentwise over the arch, and one of the ancient inscriptions runs horizontally across these stones. The walls continue to be of brick, with many towers, till we arrive at the angle by the Porta Maggiore, where some ancient aqueducts enter the walls. The Porta Maggiore is constructed of large blocks of travertine, and consisted anciently of two arches, as was usual in city gates, and three niches ornamented internally with cornices and pediments, one between, and one on each side of the entrances. It is supposed in the first instance to have formed part of an aqueduct, afterwards built up in the city walls; and if of five arches of an aqueduct three were filled up, and the two intermediate ones left open, a similar arrangement would result. Only one arch is now open, and the one which has been stopped up, does not seem to correspond exactly either in height or direction, with that through which the road passes. Two watercourses, the Anio novus and the Claudia, passed over it anciently, and the Acqua Felice has since been conducted through it. Three large inscriptions give due honours to Claudius, Vespasian, and Titus. Just to the north of this gate three other water-courses enter the wall of the city. The two upper are the Julia and Tepula, in rubble-work, which rest upon the constructions in peperino, of the Marcia. Another half buried, supposed to be the Anio vetus, is seen at the bottom. I hope in a succeeding walk to be able to give you some further idea of these aqueducts. To the right, as you issue from the gate, you find the wall made up of an ancient aqueduct, by filling up the arches; this is also observable on the inside, where, from the garden containing the temple of Venus and Cupid, you may trace a considerable portion of the different constructions.
A little after leaving these aqueducts, you arrive at the remains of an amphitheatre, part of the circuit of which is built up in the walls; it consists of a range of Corinthian columns with arches between them, all of brick, and a small fragment of a second range; the brickwork is pretty well executed, but by no means equal to that of the temple of Rediculus. It is remarkable that the bricks of the arches are laid to a centre considerably lower than the centre of the curve. They are redder and longer than the others.
In this part are various traces of old foundations built up in the circuit of the wall, and nearer to the Porta San Giovanni, some reticulated work occurs. This gate is entirely modern, and not of an architecture to require any attention. Very near to it is another gate which has been stopped up. After this the walls are of very shabby brickwork, propt up by buttresses of different dates, and here and there shewing traces of the old work of walls or sepulchres. Here as I was making my memoranda, (in May, 1817) I found a poor wretch who was seeking, if by chance he could find anything which could be eaten, among the refuse vegetables which the gardeners had thrown over the walls. I gave him two bajocs, for which he was extremely grateful, and would kiss my hand. I did not like absolutely to refuse the customary expression of gratitude, but I quite felt the dirt. This may serve to shew to what a state the people here are reduced, by the failure, or at least the great deficiency both of the vintage and the harvest, last year.
The next gate is the Porta Latina, which is shut. There is the fragment of a brick edifice, just out of the walls, in the style of the temple of Rediculus, but of the Doric order, with two half columns of brick. In one place among the old peperino constructions which support the wall, are appearances which indicate a casing of marble or travertine.
At a small distance is the Porta San Sebastiano, the lower part of which is of squared blocks of marble, well put together. This projecting part of the present walls is far beyond the ancient circuit, and the character of the work is quite different from that of the Porta San Lorenzo, or Porta Maggiore, but has more affinity with that of the Porta del Popolo. Above the marble, the towers are carried up square, in brickwork, but the highest part is circular.
Between this and the Porta San Paolo, besides the usual, or perhaps more than the usual portion of included fragments, many of which were probably tombs, we have traces of more recent works, and of the fortifications of modern times. Beyond the Porta San Paolo, there is no road under the walls, and I did not attempt to find my way through the vineyards, to the shores of the Tiber. Inside, however, they exhibit a series of open arches towards Monte Testaccio, and the Prati del Popolo Romano.
LETTER XXXIII.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROME.
Rome, May, 1817.
You perhaps imagine, from having heard of the dreary and desolate Campagna, that there are no agreeable walks about the city, but if you have formed any such notion, you are very much mistaken. The ground about Rome is exceedingly well disposed for pleasant scenery; the country being intersected by several valleys of no great width, each bounded by steep banks of moderate height, from the top of which you catch the gently varied line of Monte Albano, and the distant Apennines. One of these, Monte Velino, is still covered with snow. The Leonessa held it for a long while; but the highest summit of this part of the chain, which is the Gran Sasso, rising to an elevation of very nearly 9,000 feet, is not visible from any place near Rome. All these points of the Apennines are in the Neapolitan territory. Each valley has nearly a flat bottom, forming rich meadows, which in winter are very wet, and many of them are at times inundated. Wherever art has interfered to adorn these slopes, or where some natural patch of wood is suffered to grow, the effect is highly pleasing, especially if in addition, some picturesque ruin crown the summit. Sometimes when the eye is elevated above these slopes, such features enrich the nearer landscape, while the long lines of the ancient aqueducts give an interest to the middle distance; but it must be confessed that little advantage is made of this disposition of the ground, and that the general character of uncultivated nakedness is far from agreeable.
I will take you in this letter through the Porta del Popolo, and our first visit shall be to the house or casino, once inhabited by Raphael. It stands in a garden close by the walls, and is without architectural ornament, yet it forms a good object; to which the woods of the Villa Borghese extending behind it, contribute not a little. Within is a chamber adorned with the most beautiful little fancies, such as one may suppose would be floating in the mind of a Raphael, and which he might find pleasure in tracing as they occurred, without using any labour about them, or working on any predetermined plan. A parcel of delightful little cherubs have stolen the arrows of Cupid, who is represented asleep, and they are amusing themselves with shooting at a target; there are also four rounds with female heads, one of which is particularly beautiful. Other figures seated among the arabesques are highly graceful, and there is in all so much life and nature, that it is quite a pleasure to look at them.
Returning from this we pass into the Villa Borghese, through a gateway whose piers are copied from two sepulchres which have been supposed to mark the entrance to Adrian’s villa, near Tivoli. These are surmounted by two eagles of a fine, broad, noble character. The villa itself is a garden or pleasure ground, said to be three miles in circumference, with shady walks, which we found delightful as early as the 4th February, and tall stone pines scattered about the more open parts. These trees, and the Ilices are the most important circumstances in the beauty of the place. There is a pretty lake, and a considerable variety of ground and of scenery; and several buildings, not perhaps very beautiful in themselves, but assisting the general character of the place. Art appears everywhere, but not obtrusively, and without pretence. The upper casino, if not beautiful on the outside, produces at least a rich and magnificent effect. The general disposition is good, but the roofs are not well managed, and the middle is too high; it looks better, as do most of these over-ornamented fronts, in reality, than in a drawing or engraving, because the artist almost always makes the ornaments too prominent. The gallery within is a noble room, about 65 feet long, 30 broad, and 33 high; the enrichments are gold and white, on chocolate and blue. Here was once a superb collection of antiques, but it has been purchased by the French government, and now forms a large part of the collection of the Louvre. Bernini’s figures remain, but they are too affected to please; there are also some landscapes and other paintings of no great merit, in the different rooms, but the apartments themselves are of handsome proportions and well disposed. Returning almost to the Porta del Popolo, and thence keeping along the Via Flaminia, we find the Villa Poniatowski, very pleasant and containing a good many antiques, but not of great value; there are a great number of fancy capitals, variations of the Corinthian, some of which are good, but more bad or indifferent.
A little farther is the Villa Giulia, which I have already described; and there is another edifice of simple and not unpleasing architecture, attributed to Antonio Sangallo, also belonging to a villa or vigna Giulia. By these, a lane called Via dell’ Arco Scuro, leads to the Aqua Acetosa, a mineral spring on the banks of the Tiber, having very much the taste of ink. I have also mentioned the chapel of St. Andrew, by Vignola, which is the next object in following the road. A little before arriving at the Ponte Molle, we find another chapel of St. Andrew, or rather a monument erected on the spot, where according to tradition, Pius II., in 1463, met the head of the apostle on its arrival at Rome. Upon a square basement, whose height is probably rather greater than its width, is a little edifice with a column in each angle, a doorway between them in each face, and a pediment above; the four fronts being all precisely alike. Over this is an octagonal drum of very small height, and a little, scaly cupola, surmounted by a cross. The composition is simple and pleasing, for a little thing, but it would not do for a large one.
The Ponte Molle, the ancient Pons Milvius, is the uppermost of the ancient bridges about Rome over the Tiber. It was originally built in the year of Rome 645; but it is doubtful if anything we see remaining be of that period. Yet there is some ancient work in the piers, which is easily distinguished from the later masonry of the arches, attributed to Nicolas V. Till 1805 it was encumbered by an inconvenient tower at one end; but being at that time damaged by an inundation, the road was straightened, and made more commodious, and the tower converted into a sort of triumphal arch; but it boasts no beauty. After crossing the bridge we will take the right hand road up the hill, which coasts the valley of the Tiber. At the distance of about two miles, we again descend, and the road is cut into the hill, shewing it to consist of a gravel principally composed of rounded pebbles of an argillaceous limestone; near the bottom is the Torre di Quinto, standing, not upon this gravel, but upon a fresh water limestone, like the travertine, or the deposit of the Tartar lake, with similar indications of having been formed on reeds, twigs, &c. This again rests on a volcanic tufo, very unequal in substance and surface. The lower part of the limestone includes numerous fragments of this tufo, but there are none of them in the upper part of the bed. The tower itself is of the middle ages.
Beyond the little valley which succeeds, we find a spur of similar limestone, resting on tufo. We cannot distinctly see this pass under the mass of lava, or peperino, or tufo, which forms the next hill, but from its position we may suppose this to be the case. This mass forms a precipice perhaps in some parts 100 feet high, immediately above the road, which here keeps the valley; it exhibits considerable tendency to perpendicular fissures. The bottom of this bed is exhibited in three different places; in the first it rests upon a calcareous gravel, like that of the opposite hill; in the second, on a softish uniform sandstone, which, whether it be volcanic or not, I cannot tell; in the third, on a soft peperino, very different from the mass above, or from anything else in the neighbourhood. In all these, the line of separation is perfectly distinct. A grotto, the tomb of the family of Naso, usually called the tomb of Ovid, is worked in the sandstone. It is adorned with ancient paintings on stucco. A little farther are some other tombs of considerable magnitude; one of them appears to have been a pyramid, or cone, on a square basement. Another was circular externally, with twelve niches, or perhaps eleven niches and a door, and a Greek cross within. A third exhibits merely foundations, nearly level with the plain. Still farther is another pyramidal tomb, which I did not visit.
After satisfying our curiosity here, we return by the same road to the Ponte Molle; afterwards keeping the right bank of the river, and passing through some vineyards still more to the right, we ascend the hill to the Villa Madama. The building, which has never been finished, presents its flank to the side of the hill; a deep loggia in the garden front, has been ornamented with paintings by Giulio Romano, who is also the reputed architect of the villa. This deep loggia, too complicated perhaps in its form, is nevertheless very elegant, and the terrace garden beyond it offers a fine view of the Campagna. All is now neglected and forlorn.
Between this and Rome we may cross Monte Mario, so called, not from the Roman general, but from a villa on the summit, belonging at one time to a certain Mario Mellini. This is the highest hill in the immediate neighbourhood of Rome, and a noble terrace shaded with cypresses commands a magnificent view both of the city and country, from the Apennines to the Mediterranean. If instead of following the road from this place to Rome, we keep a little to the right, we shall find ourselves in the Valle d’ Inferno. Whether this has its name from the mal aria, or from its being infested with robbers, I shall not undertake to decide. It certainly is not from the character of the scenery, which is that of a green secluded valley, winding between steep woody banks of small elevation. If it had not been for its botany I should never have visited it. We re-enter Rome by the Porta Angelica.
A.B. Clayton del. from Sketches by J. Woods
Edwards. Sculp
Ponte Salaria.
London. Published by J & A. Arch, Cornhill. March 1st. 1828.
Our next walk shall be out of the Porta Salaria, on which road the first object is the Villa Albani. The ground floor of the principal building presents a range of ten Ionic pilasters, and in each interpilaster is an arch supported on two small columns. Above, are two ranges of windows, of which the upper ones are circular; and Corinthian pilasters. The distribution of the wings is exactly like that of the lower part of the centre, but on a smaller scale. It must be acknowledged that the masses are well proportioned and finely disposed; this is attributed to the cardinal for whom the villa was made. But the details are bad; for this the architect is answerable. In the inside, the great saloon is a very rich and beautiful room, about 60 feet long, 20 wide, and 30 high. The cabinets are rather too small, but they are handsome rooms, each with a single light. Opposite to this is the café, where there is an open semicircular gallery with Doric pilasters, and eleven arches on Doric columns disposed like those of the principal building. Here again the general proportions are good, and the details bad. There are some other smaller edifices, which I shall not particularize; and it does not come into my plan to attempt the description of the noble collection of marbles which this villa contains. They tell you of hundreds taken away by the French, of which eleven I think, have been restored, but the number is still immense. The views from this villa are magnificent, and on more than one occasion I have seen from these gardens, the Apennines lighted up by the setting sun, in exquisite beauty.
The Ponte Salario is said to have been ruined by Totila, and restored by Narses, but the inscriptions which commemorated those events were lost in 1798, when the bridge was cut by the retreating Neapolitans. It consists of one large arch, perhaps 90 feet wide, and two small ones, one of which is now filled up. The ancient work seems to have been of peperino, the repairs are of travertine, brick, and rubble. Some of the stones of the parapet are still remaining; they are formed thus,
the middle being a sort of pyramid. Beyond this bridge there is a tomb transformed into a tower, and the road leads us to the site of the ancient Fidene; but I turned to the right after crossing the river, and kept under the bank which forms the valley, as far as the Ponte Lamentano, where a large brick arch in the work above, as well as that of the bridge itself, has the appearance of a Roman construction.
Instead of crossing this bridge, we may turn for a few steps along the road to the left, as far as the Mons Sacer, interesting from its place in Roman history, but not in itself a spot distinctly marked either by nature or art. Just at its foot are the remains of two sepulchres; one, which has been an edifice of considerable magnificence, surrounded by a circular colonnade, is ingeniously assigned by the people of Rome to Menenius Agrippa. He was there in his life-time to tell his parable to the plebeians, and therefore he must have been buried there. There are not however, any columns remaining, or anything of much interest in the fragment. The other is still more ruined.
In spite of their extremely dilapidated state, these fragments render the walks about Rome very interesting. They abound in all directions, chiefly on the east of the Tiber, but much more in some places than in others, and allow full liberty for the imagination to speculate on their ancient forms and destinations; for though a few conjectures have been bestowed upon some of them, there is little but conjecture at the best, and nine tenths of the fragments are without any probable guess at what they may have been. A large portion were certainly tombs, but of whom, and of what period, is forgotten.
I often wish for a tolerable map of the neighbourhood, which would show the position of the different objects of our curiosity, especially of the antiquities, and it appears to me a strong feature of the sluggishness of modern Rome, that a work so extremely desirable, should have been so entirely neglected. I say entirely, for Sickler’s miserable map of Latium is not worth mention. I feel the want in nothing more, than in endeavouring to trace the aqueducts. The ancient ones were eleven in number, viz., the Aqua Appia, A.U.C. 442; the Anio vetus, A.U.C. 481; the Aqua Tepula, A.U.C. 628; the Aqua Marcia, A.U.C. 640; the Aqua Julia, A.U.C. 721; the Aqua Virginis, A.U.C. 735; the Aqua Alsietina, A.U.C. 753; the Aqua Claudia, the Anio novus, the Aqua Trajana, and the Aqua Sabatina; the two last are on the west side of the Tiber. Of these aqueducts, the Aqua Virginis still remains, the Acqua Felice may possibly contain the water formerly transported in the channel of the Aqua Tepula, and the Acqua Paolina supplies the place of the Aqua Alsietina. These aqueducts had a few branches in the early part of their course to receive different supplies; and other branches within, and near the city, to distribute their waters: the whole amount of water exceeded 10,000 quinarii, or as Piranesi says 14,000, but how much this quinarius was, is not I believe certainly known. Poleni considers it as a pipe whose diameter is equal to a good-sized finger ring, or about three quarters of an inch. Not a very precise measure, and if it were, yet as we are ignorant at what depth under the usual surface these pipes were placed, or of any other datum by which to determine the velocity of the water, it would be too imperfect to enable us to form a tolerable judgment of the quantity intended. The quinarius may have been of the diameter of a coin of that name, or it may have been the name of a liquid measure equal to five quarters of the sextarius, and the sextarius is about a pint; but then we want the time in which such a measure was supplied. According to Forcellini, and he quotes Frontino, a quinarius is a pipe of the diameter of five quadrantes, and a quadrans, on the same authority, is a quarter of a foot. This would be preposterous, and the ancient remains show, that on an average, the section of each watercourse could not have exceeded an area of ten square feet. A quinarius then is five fourths of something, this seems all that is certain. A circular opening, three-quarters of an inch in diameter, at the depth of four feet from the surface, which is maintained always to the same level, will emit fifty-one cubic inches per second.[[5]]
Most of the aqueducts approach each other near the Porta Maggiore. The Aqua Virginis, which enters Rome near the Villa Borghese, and the Trasteverine ones being alone wanting, and the modern Acqua Felice may be added to the number. This last runs along the wall from that gate to the Porta San Lorenzo, and then leaving the wall, is seen directing its course towards the Certosa. I shall therefore conduct you to the Porta Maggiore, and then tell you what is to be seen of them beyond it; but before we arrive at the gate, especially if we go from St. John Lateran, we see considerable remains of a branch of the Claudian, built, as we are told, by Nero, to conduct the water to the Palatine; and a little before arriving at the gate, a lane leading to the church of Santa Croce runs under it, and we have full opportunity to examine. It is of beautiful brickwork, at least the facings are so, and is meant for a gateway, since it is composed of one large arch in the middle, and two small arches, one over the other, on each side; and there have been architectural ornaments. The ancient watercourse runs at the top, above these upper arches; but there is one at present, suspended as it were in the upper part of the large arch, and passing at the bottom of the upper side arches, which I suppose to be a branch from the modern Acqua Felice; at least it is only from that, that it can now obtain its water. I have already mentioned to you the remains connected with the wall near the Porta Maggiore, as seen from the inside of the city; the three channels which pass over the gate, and the four which enter the wall on the left as you go out of the gate. The lowest and most ancient, the Aqua Appia enters the city, according to Piranesi, a little to the right of the gate, and winds over the Aventine; but it is almost everywhere buried, nor have I seen it in any one place at Rome, unless it be the lowest of those at the Porta Maggiore, as Piranesi’s plan seems to indicate; but this is usually considered to belong to the Anio vetus. Those which go over the gate are the Aqua Claudia, and Anio novus. There is a series of arches of more ancient date accompanying these along the wall, but what may become of it afterwards I cannot tell. There is no range of arches near the Porta Maggiore connecting with any of the four earlier aqueducts, nor have I been able to determine them with certainty at a greater distance. We see indeed abundant remains of aqueducts, whose long branches are conspicuous objects; winding over the extensive plain, without any apparent reason for the irregularities of their course, which are the more remarkable as they sometimes cross each other; and this circumstance, added to their number, and their mutilated state, renders it difficult to trace them, or to assign to each the arches which belong to it. The elevation doubtless is a very important indication, but this requires the careful levelling and measurement of different parts. The materials are a further guide. In the three which enter the wall together near the Porta Maggiore, the two upper watercourses, supposed to be the Julia and Tepula, are formed of brick and rubble; the lower, that of the Aqua Marcia, is of square blocks of peperino, and the supporting pier is also of that construction. When the Julia was erected in 729 A.U.C., the Tepula is said to have been added to it. I do not understand what is meant by the expression, since the water is accounted for separately, and we still see their distinct channels, but it unfortunately throws a doubt on the date of the present remains; without which we might make a very near approximation to the period of the introduction of rubble-work into these buildings; between 612 A.U.C., the date of the Marcia, and 627 A.U.C., which was that of the Tepula. Of the remaining fragments, some are of stone, others of brickwork, but the former cannot be traced for any continuance; and while two or three are sometimes supported on one range of arches, in other places almost every one seems to have a range to itself. It is curious to trace these repairs executed fifteen centuries ago; the execution of the brickwork in most instances, or perhaps in all, shows them to be decidedly prior to the age of Constantine, and the principal restorations in all probability took place when the upper watercourses were added. They generally consist of brick arches, built within the ancient stone ones, sometimes resting on the old piers, but more often carried down to the ground, and in some cases the whole arch has been filled up, or only a mere doorway left at the bottom. Sometimes this internal work has been wholly or partially destroyed; sometimes the original stone-work has disappeared, as the owner of the ground happened to want bricks or squared stones. In one place the ancient piers have been entirely buried in the more recent brickwork; but the brickwork has been broken, and the original stone-work taken away, presenting a very singular, and at first sight, wholly unaccountable appearance; in other parts the whole has fallen, apparently without having had these brick additions, for a range of parallel mounds marks the situation of the prostrate piers.
Continuing along the road to Præneste, the ancient Via Labicana, for some distance, with these aqueducts and fragments of aqueducts on the right, and observing another, crossing a valley on a much lower level, perhaps connected with the lowest watercourse (that of the Anio vetus) at the Porta Maggiore, we arrive at the Torre Pignattara, said to be the tomb of Helena, the mother of Constantine. Here was found the other great porphyry sarcophagus now in the Vatican, the position of the first I have already mentioned in the church of Santa Constanza. The sculpture is far from good, but it is better than the former. It is said to have been repaired in modern times at the expense of 20,000 crowns, otherwise it might be deemed too good for the age of Constantine. The tower itself is a circular brick building of considerable size, with two stories externally, each of eight arches. There has been a large external niche in the part opposite to the present entrance, and some projecting stones announce a cornice, or perhaps a peristyle, above the lower range of arches. There probably was never much to be admired in it either for design or execution. The dome which covers it is constructed with earthen pots, and the building has thence obtained its name, Pignattara, signifying a pipkin.
The really good things in Roman architecture, of which anything remains to us, are comparatively very few. The temple of Vesta is rather Greek than Roman. Then we have the three columns of Jupiter Stator; three of Jupiter Tonans; the temple of Antoninus and Faustina; that of Mars Ultor, and the portico of the Pantheon, all six of the Corinthian order, nor have we anything of much value of any other. There are magnificent fragments besides, and in particular, some of the marble ornaments in the forum of Trajan raise a high idea of its beauty and perfection. But there is no other building which can be considered as a model. The erections of the four first emperors were generally in good style, and a sentiment of correct taste and feeling existed till the time of Trajan. Under that emperor, the productions of Apollodorus are decidedly superior to most of the edifices which preceded his time, but the artist and the purity of the art were destroyed by Hadrian. Some traces of beauty remain under Severus, but these are gradually lost between him and Constantine. A common country mason in England would make as good designs, would draw the architecture with as much truth and correctness, and execute the ornaments, sculpture included, as well as the artists employed by Constantine. The degree of degradation to which the fine arts had fallen in that period is a very remarkable phenomenon in the history of the human mind; for the empire, though torn and suffering in many parts, was still great and powerful; and both for individuals, and for the public, the arts must still have been exercised. Yet the architects of Constantine’s reign could not find workmen who could give the mouldings a regular curve, or even preserve them in a straight line, or form an even surface.
Beyond the tower of the Pignattara, are a great number of little ruins, mostly of rubble, with a facing of reticulated work in tufo, just of the sort which Vitruvius describes as calculated to last eighty years; yet without being very thick, these walls have probably seen twenty such periods. Most of these buildings have been rectangular, but there is one circular brick building, and there is also a fragment constructed of large blocks of peperino, probably of an early date, and some constructions of opus incertum. Leaving the Præneste road, and turning to the left, I passed another piece of an aqueduct, not rising above the more elevated parts of the Campagna, but which from its position, I should conclude not to be of the same work with a similar piece which I had before left on the right. The remains of both are of rubble-work. This is supposed by Nibby to be the Aqua Alexandrina. Some time after, returning towards Rome, I reached a large round building situate on the ancient Via Prenestina, a road which is now little used, called Torre degli Schiavi, or otherwise the temple of Hope. It is a large, circular, domed, brick building; with two ranges of corbels for cornices, and indications of a large base moulding. The brickwork is not very good. Internally, there are four niches, two small arched recesses, one larger one, and opposite to this last, the doorway. It is of better design than the Torre Pignattara, and has had a portico in front, so that it was almost a miniature of the Pantheon. Some of the stucco remains, and traces of the ornaments, and even of figures, may be observed upon the dome. There appears to have been a range of these figures encircling the dome at the springing, and over them a large ovolo, these eight arches (all in painting), and over these other ornaments. Everything is too much decayed to enable us to judge of the effect, or to fix upon a period for the execution. Some figures of saints, evidently of a later date than the paintings just mentioned, prove it to have been used as a Christian church, which was also the case with the Torre Pignattara. The dome is lightened, as in that building, by the use of pots. The foundations shew that it had a portico, which like that of the Pantheon, contained a large niche on each side of the entrance into the building. There is a circular vault below, supported on a central pier. Several fragments of walls, and remains of foundations may be traced in the neighbourhood, and many of the buildings must have been of considerable size. There is one arrangement which occurs several times here and elsewhere; two, three, or even four, parallel vaults are found below, each of these vaults being sometimes divided into two lengths, by a cross wall; and just as many chambers above, which also have been vaulted. In each of the lower vaults, there appears to have been a door at one end, and no other opening; the upper rooms are in most instances, too much ruined for us to decide on what they have been; but in the one by the Torre degli Schiavi, which is the most perfect I have seen, enough remains to tell pretty decidedly that there was neither door nor window above or below; and neither fireplace nor staircase, nor are there any niches, either for statues, or for the dead bodies, or for cinerary urns, or any deposit from water. What can this have been?
At a little distance is a fragment of another circular building, of the same sort of work, but smaller and more ruinous, and also more buried in its ruins. Enough remains to shew that the dome has been fluted, with a small fillet on the angle of each flute: the flutes have been rounded off in some degree at the bottom. The outside is of reticulated tufo, and seems to have been square. At the distance of a few steps is a building, which is of brick, and octangular below, and of rubble above, the outside covering having disappeared. A tower is built upon part of it, the residence of—I forget who; some noble or robber, names which appear synonymous in the middle ages at Rome. This also is domed. Within are four niches, three recesses, and the door; and we observe here that there have been a circular vault below, and central pier, as in the principal edifice. Some ornaments in relief on the stucco still exist in one of the niches. On one side are some additional buildings, but there has been no door of communication between them and the circular part. There are many other fragments, but these are the most perfect. This group of ruins is sometimes called Roma Vecchia, but there is another Roma Vecchia more considerable, on the Appian way, of which I shall give you some account in my next walk.
Returning to Rome, we find a small building of very neat brickwork, somewhat in the style of the temple of Rediculus, of which my next ramble will also contain an account, but in worse taste, and therefore probably later. It has a lofty frieze, adorned with arches, another proof of the decline of the art.
LETTER XXXIV.
NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROME.
Rome, May, 1817.
Beginning with the Porta del Popolo, and following in the direction of the sun, I have taken you in succession out of the different gates; but we will now set out by the gate of St. Sebastian, and return by that of San Giovanni, which would precede it in regular order. Before arriving at the gate, we meet with three objects deserving notice, which though within the walls, were too distantly situated to be included in our former walks. The first of these is the great ruin of the Baths of Caracalla. The general plan of the Roman thermæ seems to have been that of a large, rectangular, central building, placed in a spacious enclosure, surrounded by smaller edifices, and on one side of this court there was a large open theatre, or rather cavea. This disposition may be traced in the three which exist the most perfectly; of the others we have not sufficient materials to decide whether it was adopted or not; and only conclude it to have been so from analogy. It is very conspicuous in the Baths of Caracalla, only the cavea, instead of being semicircular, is in the form of half a stadium, or circus. The ruins of these baths are very considerable, and are impressive by their vast square mass; and internally, the immense piles of brick and rubble give it a solemnity of character with which the deep, still blue of an Italian sky is in perfect harmony, though the tints of the ruin are of rich and glowing colours. However often one may visit them, it is always with repeated pleasure that we ramble among their massive constructions. The great central chamber seems, like the great hall still remaining in the baths of Dioclesian, to have been covered with groined arches. It was probably the first instance of groined arches covering a space of any considerable extent, and as there can be no doubt that so striking a novelty would be admired and repeated, we are not surprised at finding it in all the later thermæ. It is true that Palladio introduces this disposition in his plans of all the baths, but he appears in this, as in some other instances, to have supplied the deficiencies of one, by adapting to it the parts of another, without sufficient authority. The great central building was composed internally of two large colonnaded courts, one at each end, and vast halls, and a multitude of smaller chambers between, and on each side of them; on each side of the outer circuit of buildings, there seem to have been other edifices disposed circularly, and an octagonal room, which has the appearance of a hall of entrance, occurred at each end. In one of these the celebrated Toro Farnese is said to have been found, but I believe the fact is doubtful. We find in the part which now remains horizontal lines, which probably mark the situations of the marble cornices, and many other indications of the enrichments which have been taken away: we trace also pipes in the wall in various places, some apparently intended to take off the smoke, while others were to introduce water.
1826.
The Conte di Velo has been at the expense of excavating a considerable part of these baths. Many fragments were found of sculpture and of architecture, and an immense quantity of pieces of different coloured marbles. The white marble of the architecture was Pentelic. At the depth of six or eight feet, the ancient mosaic pavement was discovered, and even below this are several curious arrangements of walls and conduits which I do not comprehend. At the exhibition in the French academy, there were some beautiful drawings of all the discoveries here made, with a complete restoration of the edifice; in some parts very happy; in others very doubtful. The artist has carefully commemorated some comparatively trifling excavations made by the French academy, and does not even mention the name of the Conte di Velo, by whose means he has been enabled to give interest to his drawings.
1817.
The ancient Romans did not permit their dead to be buried within the city, or if there are a few exceptions, they were granted with a very sparing hand, and the tombs of the Campus Martius are obliterated, except a few great ones, by the modern city. The sepulchre of the Scipios is without the ancient walls, in an opposite direction, but within those of Aurelian. An inscription was dug up here so long ago as 1616, but the antiquaries having fixed upon a building considerably farther on, as the tomb of the Scipios, were unanimous in their opinion that it must be a forgery, and it was not till 1780, that the proprietor of the Vigna, working to enlarge his cellar, dug into the ancient excavation, and found the remarkable sarcophagus now in the Vatican, and many other inscribed tablets, which put the matter out of all doubt. It appears originally to have been a quarry of pozzolana, or more probably of tufo, before it was appropriated as a tomb. The ancient entrance is formed by an arch of peperino, adorned with half columns, and this is nearly all the masonry of an early date. Some additions in brick and tufo, seem to have been made afterwards; and still later constructions, of a style of masonry corresponding with that of the circus of Caracalla, were carried through it, or along one side of it. The falling in of the earth had not only covered, but had completely obliterated all traces of the ancient entrance; and a small casino for the vine-dresser, one of those little things so often constructed on the ancient tombs, still farther tended to conceal from the observer any object of interest; a few pieces of old rubble-work are too frequent about the Campagna to excite attention.
Just before passing the walls, we find the Arch of Claudius Drusus, built by the senate in 745 A. U. C., eight years before the Christian era, and ornamented, as is said, with trophies of German victories. Over the arch, on the face towards the city, one may perceive indications of a frieze and architrave, and the bed moulding of the cornice, but none of the corona: there are also remains of a small pediment, hardly extending across the opening of the arch. All this belongs to the original edifice, and is easily distinguished from the aqueduct of Caracalla carried over it; to execute which, it appears to have been necessary to cut down the work internally, nearly as low as to the key-stone of the arch. On the external face are two marble columns of the Composite order. The architrave of these remains, but nothing above it, and all the rest of the edifice has been stripped of the marble covering with which it was once coated.
I have already described to you the gate of St. Sebastian. Immediately after passing it, you enter a vineyard on the right, to see, as you are told, the Sepolcro di Marte; it is of neat brickwork; the bricks on the external facings being cut to a sharp edge, as in some other buildings which I shall describe to you: internally, we find a simple waggon-headed vault, with slight caissoons in stucco, but no other ornament; and niches for cinerary urns. After this are other fragments, all of sepulchres, for we are now on or near the Appian way. Names have been given, but without authority, and the ruins are mostly mere masses of rubble, to which no form can be assigned. Some however are larger, and contain vaulted chambers, others are domed. Indeed the form, the extent, and the materials of the more perfect remains all vary, but it would be tedious to enumerate them. On the left-hand side of the road, opposite to one of these, which is of considerable comparative importance, and formerly attributed to the Scipios, is the little church of Domine quo vadis, so called because St. Peter, having escaped from prison at Rome, met here our Saviour bearing his cross; and in these words, for he preferred Latin to Hebrew, Syriac, or Greek, asked him where he was going. Our Saviour replied that he was going to be crucified a second time. St. Peter it appears understood the hint, and returned to submit to the martyrdom required of him. This is not to be found in the Acts of the Apostles, but is not the less firmly believed on that account; and moreover you are shown the impression of our Saviour’s foot in the stone on which he stood. It was politic, at least, to weave all these little circumstances into the history of St. Peter; they became united to all the earliest impressions of the Romans, and are easily connected with the idea of St. Peter having been bishop of Rome, and of the consequent superior dignity and authority of that church.
There is nothing to claim your attention in the architecture of the Church of St. Sebastian; but in a subterraneous chapel is a beautiful bust of the saint, by Bernini, full of expression; and here also is the entrance to the most extensive catacombs about Rome. They consist of crooked winding passages in tufo and pozzolana, in three stories, which as the levels are not always exactly preserved, are easily made into seven by those who wish to increase the appearance of the marvellous. The niches for the bodies are mere square recesses, about the length of a human body, and just big enough to receive it; but there are some larger ones forming an arch, at the bottom of which the body was placed: wherever these larger arched niches are found, there is a little apartment, whose rude sides have been coated with stucco. I will not however venture to say that there are no stuccoed rooms without niches, but the two circumstances generally go together. They pretend to have found here, the bodies of 174,000 martyrs. A collection of itself sufficient to stock all Europe with relicks.
A little beyond this is the Spoliarium, or Mutatorium; or it is a temple, according to Palladio, or anything else you please. It has been generally supposed to have supplied some purpose dependent on the circus of Caracalla, with which it has however no connexion. It consists of a round edifice inclosed in a court. The central building is formed by a circular wall, with an octagonal pier in the middle supporting a vault; the whole forming doubtless the basement of a large domed hall above, which no longer exists. The work is of rubble, which within the vault is faced with bricks, laid regularly, but with a great deal of mortar; the vault is altogether of rubble. There are niches in the middle pier, and its octagonal form seems not essential, since the vault rises upon a circle described within it. The surrounding wall of the court is built of alternate layers of brick and stone, or rather of tufo, for it hardly deserves the name of stone. Within it, are remains of piers formed of brick only, and there are some vestiges of the vaulting with which the intervening space was covered, forming a continued arcade round three sides of the court, or perhaps all four, but that towards the road is quite destroyed. Close on the outside of this court is a sepulchre, long attributed to the Servilian family, but as the true burying-place of that family has been since found at a considerable distance, and determined by inscriptions, this remains without a name. It is of a square form without and within, and is covered, not with a proper vault, but pyramidally, on the principle of the dos d’âne. There are, however, rough arches to some of the openings; a passage is carried all round the building in the thickness of the walls. The whole construction is certainly very singular, and appears to be of high antiquity, but I cannot pretend to assign a probable date.
From these remains we pass to the Circus of Caracalla, not that it was built by that emperor, for it is probably of a much later period, but it was known from medals that Caracalla erected a circus, and the antiquaries could not tell where to find it, while here they had a circus without a name. Whoever built it, it is a very interesting ruin, because it exhibits more perfectly than any other, the arrangement of the ancient circus. The surrounding walls are constructed like those of the court of the mutatorium, with alternate layers of brick and small stones; the continued vault which supported the seats, is of rubble, but with large earthen vases in the upper part, to lighten the work. The line of Carceres which forms the square end, if I may use the word square so loosely, is oblique in position with respect to the side walls, and curved in itself, in order to put all the chariots upon an equality at starting; and the spina for a similar reason is neither along the middle of the arena, nor exactly parallel to one of its sides, but so disposed that the passage gets narrower through its whole progress. At the semicircular end is the Porta Triumphalis,[[6]] through which the victor left the circus. The obelisk which now embellishes the Piazza Navona, once decorated the spine of this place.
Overlooking this circus, are various ruins, of which we may reckon five distinct fragments, each at some distance from the other; and a long terrace, supported in part upon vaults, to one of which you still find an entrance. The stucco is still remaining, and we observe painted lines drawn very neatly and correctly round panels, of which the ornaments in the middle have been taken away: from what remains, we may conclude that the whole was well finished. Some of these fragments of edifices have been supposed to belong to the temple of Honour and Virtue, built by Marcellus, after the conquest of Sicily, in the year of Rome 544; for this, however, there is not the shadow of proof, and the style of construction, of rubble faced with brick, is similar to that of imperial times.
We will now make a diversion from the road, in order to visit some antiquities which occupy a retired situation to the left, in or near the little valley called the Caffarelli. The first we meet with, just on the brow of the hill, is the little edifice called the Temple of the Tempest. There are some small buildings about Rome, covered with the sort of vault which the French call dos d’âne, but I do not know that we have any correspondent English term. The rubble and mortar of which it is composed, seem to have been laid on planks rising in a triangular form, and to sustain themselves when these are removed, entirely by the cement. This little building is one of them. It is said to have been erected A. U. C. 547, (before C. 206.) by P. C. Scipio, in consequence of a vow which he made when overtaken by a storm in returning from Spain; and I have observed two tombs, one of which I have just described to you, the roof of which is constructed on the same principle, in the form of the frustum of a pyramid; both very much dilapidated. I am inclined to attribute to all three a high antiquity, probably as high as that assigned by tradition to the temple of the Tempest; but of this building I must observe, that only a small part can by any possibility boast a claim to the name: additions have been made at different times. The oldest part is formed of rubble-work, of fragments of lava; the later (and these walls are built close against the others) of a rubble-work of tufo, faced with reticulated work, and since that, a dwellinghouse has been erected on the top, which is now in ruins. At a little distance is a building called the Temple of Bacchus, or by Uggeri, and some others, the Temple of Honour and Virtue. Four Corinthian columns of pretty good design and workmanship form the front, but they are spaced wide apart, and surmounted by a miserable architrave. Above this is what may be considered as an enormous frieze, which, as well as the cornice, is of brick. On one side is a fragment of a wall of alternate brick and tufo, not close against the wall of the temple, or parallel to it. The walls of the present building are all brick, at least as to the facing; and in converting it to a church, the spaces between the columns have been filled up with an ill-built wall of brick, and fragments of stone. The original brickwork is neat and good, but the bricks are not cut to a sharp edge, as they are in some other examples. Internally, a range of stones projecting from the walls, forms a series of corbels supporting flat arches of brick: above every alternate stone is a pilaster, and there were probably columns below, so that it was a room adorned with two orders of architecture. Some stucco panels remain on the vault, and along the springing there is a row of trophies in considerable relief. The columns alone belong to a building of good time, but the edifice, in its first state, is probably not much earlier than Constantine, and perhaps later: the alterations and conversion into a church are not recorded; we only see the fact. Something was done in 1634, but I do not know what.
Below this, in the valley, is the Grotto of the nymph Egeria, a cavern, perhaps originally formed by nature in the side of the hill, but enlarged and made regular by art, and the soft rock everywhere covered with brick, and reticulated work. It appears to have been formed into a symmetrical building adorned with niches; in one of which, at the end of the grotto, is a fragment of a male statue. The supply of water is but small, but the vault and walls, covered with the beautiful Adiantum Capillus Veneris, show the general moisture of the soil.
Continuing down the valley, we meet with the Temple of Rediculus: the body of the work is of rubble, but it is faced with very neat brickwork, in which the horizontal surfaces of the bricks have been rubbed or cut away, in order to give room for the mortar, when the edges externally were almost in contact, as in the tomb called the sepulchre of Mars, and in some others near the mutatorium, which I have not particularly mentioned. I did not observe that any of the bricks were broken in consequence of this process, an effect which I think would certainly follow if a modern architect were to direct such a mode of proceeding. It has Corinthian pilasters at the back, which is the most conspicuous part, the foliage of whose capitals is also cut in brick. On one side are portions of two octagonal columns recessed in the wall, while the other side is plain. It has windows; and many of the ornaments round them, and in the cornice, and also a band, ornamented with a fret, which surrounds the edifice between the pilasters, seem to have been moulded in the clay, before being burnt. There are evident traces of a portico, towards the streamlet which waters the valley, so that the whole together must have formed a complete little prostyle temple. Within, the vault which separates the basement, from what would have been on such a supposition the floor of the temple, is broken away; and in this basement, on the west side, or end, is a row of small arches, which some antiquaries say are not parts of the building, but have been put up to support fodder for the cattle. As, however, traces of similar arches may be observed in the construction of the wall on the south side, whose surface is destroyed, I suspect that they were for the reception of cinerary urns. Whatever was the purpose of the erection, there are several buildings of a similar disposition about Rome, and therefore probably intended for a similar object. Most of them have been supposed to be temples, but I believe all contain appearances in the basement story, (for each has a basement story) of having been used as places of sepulture after burning: yet they are not placed immediately on the great roads, as sepulchres usually were, nor is there any certain sepulchre in which this form has been adopted. This little building was probably of as correct a design, and of as finished an execution, as any of them; and by a fortunate coincidence is the best preserved.
A. B. Clayton del. from Sketches by J. Woods
Edwards. Sculp.
Temple of Rediculus.
London. Published by J & A. Arch. Cornhill March 1st. 1828
Returning to the Appian way, and ascending the ridge, along which it is carried for several miles, we arrive at the Sepulchre of Cecilia Metella, the wife of Crassus; probably of the rich Crassus, for after every allowance for individual wealth, and Roman luxury and ostentation, we are still, in spite of the inscription, at a loss to believe that such a mole should have been erected to contain the bones of one woman. The vast square basement is of rubble, formed of fragments of peperino, with large blocks of travertine built into the mass, to unite with and support the facing of travertine, which once covered the whole, but of which only these heading-blocks remain. In this part there are said to be three small chambers, (to which however I could discover no entrance) and in one of these was found the sarcophagus now in the court of the Palazzo Farnese. The circular part of the edifice rose abruptly, as far as we can judge from the remains, from this square mass, without any preparation to reconcile the change of form: this upper circular part forms a tower about 60 feet in diameter, and of which the walls are 20 feet thick at the bottom, and more higher up, since the opening diminishes upwards in a conical form. Uggeri assigns 87 French feet to the whole diameter, and only 20 feet to the circular chamber; perhaps he is right: I did not measure it. Like all other ruins of any consequence, this was converted into a fortress, or rather made part of a large castle, during the wars of the Roman barons, and was the eyry of the Gaetani family. These sons of rapine and spoil seem to have troubled themselves little about the mal aria. After leaving this monument, and the Gothic fortress in which it was afterwards included, the tombs become very frequent. The fortress occupies exactly the brow of a range of hill extending in a direct line from Albano, and evidently formed by a current of lava, and there are considerable quarries just by it, which supply Rome with paving-stones.
The most simple form of the ancient sepulchre was that of a square, or circular tower, of no great height or size, on a square basement. Fragments of white marble remain in sufficient quantity, to shew that a large proportion of the tombs must have been covered with this material, but for the most part, the existing ruins are merely indistinct masses of rubble. Some are of brick, but these are usually of greater extent, and more complicated forms, with domes and arches; and are probably of later date. These sepulchral chambers are disposed in a single line on each side of the Appian way, but a little further on, we find a great number of fragments scattered over a considerable extent, and called Roma Vecchia.
There are about Rome several buildings more or less closely resembling what I have above described under the name of the temple of Rediculus. Many of these have evident traces of a portico of four columns: one of them has two orders in height, and there are other trifling differences; but in the whole, there is a striking similarity both of design and execution. The facing is uniformly of very neat brickwork, and they are probably all nearly of the same period. There are three such at this Roma Vecchia (for there is more than one Roma Vecchia); four more near the modern road to Naples, one of which has been christened the temple of Fortuna Muliebris, and two or three, out of the Porta San Lorenzo.
Beyond Roma Vecchia we meet again with tombs, and with a farmhouse, most of the walls of which seem to be ancient. Near this there has been a magnificent pyramidal sepulchre, surrounded in its original state by arches, and probably by a colonnade. I extended my walk to an immense round mass, which has formed the basement of some spacious mausoleum; it was unfortunately locked up, nor could I find anybody in the little cottage with which it is at present crowned to give me entrance. Then leaving the Appian way, though marked still further by its line of tombs, and crossing the modern road to Albano and Naples, I found myself again among the ranges of those aqueducts, of which I have already given you some description. The Marana, or Acqua Crabra, here runs among them, conducted on the top of a small mound, and crossing in some places both lines of aqueducts. In Italy, the Roman roads do not by any means adhere to the direct straight line which characterizes them in England. Our country was a forest when these works were undertaken: Italy was highly cultivated, and divided into private estates, and this perhaps has in many cases given rise to the windings, both of the roads and aqueducts: indeed it is difficult to account for the abrupt turns of the latter on any other principle. By the sides of these aqueducts there are other ruins occupying a considerable extent, but no one of them announces any building of much importance. There are vaults, domes, and arches, and one of those great niches so common in the Roman ruins; where the whole end of a building, or much the greater part of it, was made semicircular, and covered with half a dome. In the baths, similar large niches frequently stand quite insulated, but where they occur in the position above described, they seem at one time to have been considered as a decided proof that the edifice to which they belonged, was a temple, and hardly anything was acknowledged to be a temple, where enough remained to shew that no such niche had existed. It is unfortunate that we have only scattered fragments of the temples of Rome, but it seems probable that this arrangement did form in them a very usual termination. Nothing of the sort is found in any Greek temple; but though the Romans borrowed largely from the religious practices and observances of the Greeks, they must have drawn something from other sources. Their square cells (not oblong, as in the Greek buildings), their niches, their vaults, their round temples, and the windows they made in them, were perhaps derived from the Etruscans, together with many of the superstitious rites, and the haruspices, which history teaches us to have been derived from that people.
As I have already mentioned the Basilica, I shall find very little to describe out of the Porta di San Paolo. There is a place called Tre Fontane, where there are three churches, and in one of them, three springs of warm water, or rather I believe, one spring with three openings. The tradition of the place is, that St. Paul was here beheaded; that where his head fell, a warm spring burst out; that it bounded; and where it fell a second time, another spring arose, but not so warm as the first; it bounded again; and produced a third spring, which was nearly cold. There is however so little difference, that I persuaded an English gentleman who was with me that the one said to be the warmest was the coldest. How I hate these ridiculous additions to a story not in itself improbable! The great church is long and low, with some pointed vaulting. That containing the spring is handsome internally, but the best is an octagonal church by Vignola, which rises in a very fine pyramidal form.
I have already given you something of the western bank of the Tiber in my first walk, where I returned by Monte Mario and the Valle d’Inferno. The only thing remaining on this side is the Villa Pamfili, which is one of the largest about Rome; that is, not the house, but the grounds and gardens. On the road are the remains of an ancient aqueduct, which are frequently brought in to support the modern Acqua Paolina. What in English we should call the villa, but which is here known by the name of casino, can hardly be called handsome, and yet it pleases, and the terraces and the flat garden below, cut partly into the hill, the fragments of architecture, the fountains, the groves of towering stone pines, and the views in both directions, make it a place to which you willingly return again and again. The situation of the house is not well chosen. The pride of the artist was to counteract nature, not to follow her, and gently bring her into his service; but the situation of the grounds is very fine. Though high, it has a terrible reputation for mal aria. To the botanist it has another interest, as being the station of several rare plants.
It is among the attractions of Rome, that the Studii or workshops of the artists, and especially of the sculptors, are so easily accessible. That of Canova is announced by the fragments of sculpture which are about it, and built up in the walls externally. The great excellence of this admirable artist lies in female figures, and in those of very young men, with a character rather of grace, than of strength. Hence his Cupid and Psyche; Venus and Adonis; the Graces; his Venus; Hebe; Magdalene; and others of this sort, attract universal admiration. Canova is not a mere sculptor, he also paints well, and is in all respects a most liberal man; witness the busts of the great men of Italy put up by him at the Pantheon. Liberal not only in giving what must cost him a considerable sum, but still more so, in permitting the young men who perform these busts under his inspection and direction, to affix their names as artists. He is about to build a church in his native town. The body of the building is to be like that of the Pantheon, while the portico will be imitated from the Parthenon. I asked his architect how much it would cost, he replied that he could not pretend to say, as in the country where it was to be erected, the stone is probably cheap, and a considerable portion of the labour, particularly in the carriage of materials, would be done gratis by the peasantry, who would consider it meritorious to forward so good a work; but that such a building could hardly be erected in Rome for less than 240,000 scudi.
Thorwaldson is celebrated for the grouping of his bas-reliefs, and for his busts, particularly of the male figures, which are admirable. The restoration of the marbles found at Egina is committed to his care, and has required no small attention and judgment to determine the places of the smaller fragments, but there are a great many still remaining, which cannot be connected together. The restorations are so perfect, that it seems to me impossible to distinguish the old work from the new, but I have already given you my sentiments on this subject. What are capable of restoration consist of seventeen statues, and the body and the limbs frequently exhibit very fine sculpture, but the faces are all alike, with a sort of smirk on each; they are devoid both of individual character, and of the expression of passion. Some are draped, others naked, and on some of the draped ones we may trace an appearance of scales, when exposed in certain positions to the light. The group at the front of the temple represented a combat, with a Minerva standing between them, entirely unconcerned at what is going on on each side of her. This latter is of a very ancient style, almost Egyptian. It appears, that on the immediate apex of the pediment, a small ornament was placed with a figure on each side, still small, but taller than the ornament in the middle, and there are fragments of two griffins, supposed to have stood on the angles of the pediment, the heads being turned from the centre of the building, so that in both cases the disposition of the ornaments contradicts the inclination of the architectural parts, instead of following it, as has been usually practised in modern times.
It is worth while, among the scattered objects of curiosity, to visit the fragments dug up at Veii, belonging to a Sig. Georgi, and now to be disposed of.[[7]] There is a remarkably fine sitting statue of Tiberius, and an erect one, said to be of Germanicus, with many busts, but nothing later than Nero. It is evident that these fragments have nothing to do with the ancient Veii. The inscriptions prove the existence of a later city of that name, which appears to have occupied a small part of the former site. No regular plan of excavation has been pursued, but the marbles were found in holes dug here and there. Bronze figures and medals were also discovered, but many of these are said to have been stolen.
LETTER XXXV.
TIVOLI.
Tivoli, 24th May, 1817.
My first excursion to Tivoli was in the beginning of March; I have lately paid it a second visit, in part of a more extended ramble; and I shall give you the account of both excursions together. We leave Rome by the Porta San Lorenzo, but I say nothing concerning the antiquities in the immediate neighbourhood, as I have written enough about them to tire out your patience. After we had passed the Ponte Mammolo, the soil continues for some miles to consist of a decomposed tufo, rather sandy, but one would think not unfitted for vegetation, yet there is little corn, and the land is mostly sheepwalk, which in a country and climate too dry for perennial grasses to flourish, cannot be very productive. The near scenes are dreary enough, and a heavy atmosphere shut out the distant objects. A little way on the left of the road, about ten miles from Rome, is an old castle of the Borghese family, which nobody visits, for antiquities of the middle ages have no interest here. There are many fragments scattered about over this, and every other part of the Campagna, but it would require a book to describe them all; and no small ingenuity, to determine the nature of the edifices of which they have formed part.[[8]] About twelve miles from Rome is a little pool among bushes on the left, called Lago de’ Tartari. It is a mere pond of muddy yellowish water, with little or no peculiar taste, and neither receiving nor emitting any stream. The water deposits a copious crust of limestone upon all substances in it. It varies very much in height at different seasons, and the whole soil around is formed of its deposits: wherever the ground is broken we perceive bundles of pipes, and here and there a bit of reed remaining in the pipe, and proving the mode of its formation: above these pipes is generally a confused mass, deposited apparently on decaying fragments of vegetables. This sort of soil extends for a considerable distance, and as you may suppose, is incapable of cultivation; yet a few bushes grow on it, and abundance of the Senecio leucanthemifolius, and of some other plants not very common. On leaving this soil we pass on to another deposit of a substance less hard, and said to contain sulphur, or sulphuric acid, but nearly equally barren, and of much greater extent; about the middle, a stream of sulphureous water crosses the road, slightly warm, pretty clear, of a blue colour, and exhaling an odour which is perceived at a considerable distance. The taste is sulphureous, and I should say saltish, but Mr. P. D. called it acid. We left the carriage and walked up the stream; and at a little distance from the road, were surprised to see several branches separating themselves from the principal stream, and losing themselves in hollows of the ground. All these streams, which deposit considerable quantities of stony matter, form about them, not a continuous solid mass, but one full of caverns and hollows, extending in all directions. Sometimes they are employed in spreading still farther the barren crusts of their peculiar deposit, and sometimes probably in filling up the old channels, after which of course the stream has to find a new one, but as it is rather disposed from the form of the ground to spread over the surface, than to find its way in a single channel, an artificial one has been made for it down to the Anio. These swallows are repeated in different places, so that the stream becomes larger as we ascend, and perhaps where it issues from the little Lago di Solfatara, may be not much inferior in quantity to the New River, but running much faster in a smaller bed. In March I was inclined to call it hot, but I suppose the temperature does not equal 80° of Fahrenheit. Reeds grow abundantly on the banks, and one or two species of conferva, especially an Oscillatoria, resembling C. fontinalis of Dillwyn, which is what the books and the guides call bitumen. The lake is a mere pond, but is said to be very deep; the water at the edges is not so hot as where the stream issues from it. Detached bubbles are continually rising in all parts, and when a stone, or even a clod of earth is thrown in, a violent ebullition is produced, which lasts several minutes. Almost close to the lake, there is a ruined building, believed to be the remains of an ancient bath. There are two other lakes, still smaller, but all very deep; the size of all of them is continually diminishing, from the progress of vegetation; and the matted roots of reeds sometimes form floating islands, and extend over the surface of the water. Here, according to the antiquaries, Virgil places the scene where Latinus consulted the oracle of Faunus; but even if we can suppose the plain to have once abounded with wood, a fact which the nature of the soil renders highly improbable, how can we place them sub altâ albuneâ, when the country is nearly flat, or how can a spring rising in a deep pool be said to resound? But I leave these difficulties to wiser heads, and will continue my route towards Tivoli. At sixteen miles from Rome is the Ponte Lucano, another ancient bridge over the Teverone, but with some modern patching. Close by this is a fine circular monument, with several inscriptions belonging to the Plautian family, which is said to have been originally from Tivoli, but was much distinguished at Rome in the latter part of the republic, and the early part of the empire. It is a very fine object, and its strength and solidity have tempted some of the noble robbers of the lower ages, to convert it into a fortress, of which there are considerable remains at the top, but I could not get into it.
After passing the bridge, at a little distance from the road, there are two monuments, called the Sepolcri de’ Sereni, each of which has consisted of a basement of squared blocks of travertine, with an arched recess in front and behind, and a small doorway in the arch, opening into a little chamber. The upper part consisted of a pedestal adorned with a bas-relief; one of them has been removed or destroyed, but the other still exists, though damaged more by violence than by time. These monuments are supposed by some persons (Nibby says, bizzarramente) to have adorned the entrance to Hadrian’s villa; and their perfect correspondence of form and position, with the direction of their sides towards the villa, incline me to subscribe to this opinion. The prince Borghese has imitated them in the entrance to his villa, by the Porta del Popolo, at Rome.
Beyond these, on a hill nearly detached, amidst tall cypresses, magnificent stone pines, and other products of a luxurious vegetation, appear the ruins of the Villa Adriana. The extent is immense. We walked for above a mile among arches, great semi-domed recesses, long walls and corridors, and spacious courts; through an immense number of small apartments, and some large halls. In many places the painted stucco remains, with the ornaments upon it in relief. The rich marbles and porphyries which encrusted the walls, the marble columns and cornices, and the numerous statues which once adorned the spacious porticos, are all gone; much has been taken to Rome, much has been burnt to lime; and a great deal has been carelessly or wantonly destroyed. The varied forms of the remaining masses, the pines, the cypresses, the olives, the ilices, and the deciduous trees, with the different shrubs growing on the ruins themselves, and by which they are more or less shaded, and whose colouring contrasts admirably with the warm brown of the buildings, together with the advantages of the natural situation, form a succession of the most beautiful and picturesque scenery. All the magnificence of this spot does not however seem to have been merely for one individual. Besides the imperial apartments, and the habitations of the officers and guards, there were apartments provided for men of science, and everything necessary for study and instruction, as well as for amusement. Here were three theatres, besides a circular building, which is called, on account of some figures of seamonsters found there, a maritime theatre. Nibby pronounces it a bath for swimming; to me it seems a little amphitheatre, and I saw no indication that it had ever contained water. There were also a stadium, baths, public libraries, and places of exercise, an academy, and I will not pretend to tell you how many temples; at least, you are shewn ruins which go by these names, and there is no deficiency of room, or of fragments of masonry, to be assigned to each. You must add to these a canopus, which as nobody knows what it was, I hope you will imagine to be something of the utmost magnificence. From what still exists, it seems to have been a temple, partly subterraneous, at the end of a valley in some degree artificial, and with constructions on each side of it, and spacious and highly ornamented subterraneous chambers. You will imagine apartments for the emperor, his attendants, and his guards; but there is another thing which you will not imagine, which is a subterraneous gallery, said to be for exercise on horseback, but which are perhaps the inferi mentioned by Spartian; they form a square, of which the circuit exceeds half a mile.
Beyond all these, are various foundations, and the remains of aqueducts, and further still some other considerable remains, which perhaps did not belong to this villa. Including these, the whole extent is about two miles in a straight line. All the existing buildings are of rubble, with brick or reticulated facings; and this is I believe, the last instance of any considerable quantity of reticulated work. The baths of Caracalla have it not. We may conclude from Vitruvius that the practice began in the age of Augustus, and that it must therefore have lasted one hundred and eighty years. Even the bricks here have been taken away for modern use, at the evident risk of occasioning the fall of the edifice to which they belonged. Much as has been discovered among these ruins, it does not appear that any settled plan was ever pursued in the excavations; and perhaps much may yet remain to be discovered in point of valuable objects, and certainly much to determine the disposition of the buildings, of which no good plan, even as to the remains above-ground, has ever been published. Thus much however is certain, that no one symmetrical design prevailed throughout the whole. The buildings were disposed either as the convenience of situation, or the shape of the ground suggested. It has been said, and is repeated by every writer on the subject, that Hadrian had here collected imitations of all the buildings which he had seen in different parts of his empire; but of all the fragments which remain, there is not one, of which the plan does not shew it to have been entirely Roman. There is not a single morsel, that could by any possibility have belonged to an ancient edifice of Greece or Egypt; not one to which parallel remains may not be found in the neighbourhood of Rome, where no suspicion was ever entertained of such an imitation. We may imagine the representation was not very exact, when we find a little flat valley between sandy slopes of 40 or 50 feet high, and watered by a brook of the smallest size, dignified by the name of the magnificent mountain pass, through which the Peneus pours its waters to the sea. It is possible that all these imitations were of solid stone or marble, and have tempted spoliation by the value of the material, but then we should expect to find at Rome vestiges of the architecture as well as of the sculpture of this villa.
From Hadrian’s villa we continued our way to Tivoli, a dirty disagreeable town in a noble situation. It is seated on a spur of land, which separates the valley of the Anio or Teverone, from the open Campagna; on one side is a descent of 30 or 40 feet to the upper part of the river; on the other, a slope of some hundreds to the part of it below the falls. This spur seems quite to divert the river from its general line of course, and forces it to bend round in a semicircular form. The upper part of it is formed from a deposition from the water itself, the lower appears to consist of volcanic substances.
There are two inns at Tivoli. In the yard of one of these is the Sybil’s temple, or rather the circular temple of Vesta, which has so long gone by that name; the Sybil’s temple is more probably a small edifice just by. On my first visit to Tivoli, which as I have said, was in the beginning of March, we hastily made the usual round, and returned to Rome, having been out two days and one night. The second visit has been made more at leisure. I went up in a sort of stage which goes every day to Tivoli; one of the party was a Tivolese woman, who had been purchasing trinkets and sweetmeats at Rome, for herself and her children. In her dress, she wore her stays outside, as is usual with her countrywomen, and instead of a cap had a handkerchief, or napkin, folded up into an oblong strip, pinned on the head, and hanging down the back. I suppose this was once the fashion in our island, since the term kerchief indicates a covering for the head. She anxiously called my attention to a picture of our Saviour, in one of the little chapels on the road, which had performed miracles. Whether the picture, or the Saviour performed the miracles, she did not seem clearly to comprehend. The ancient Italians had very confused ideas on the identity of their different deities, and while in general they acknowledged only one Jupiter optimus maximus, seemed still to have a separate Jupiter to every temple. Suetonius tells us a story of Augustus, to whom Jupiter Capitolinus appeared in a dream, complaining that he had deprived him of his accustomed votaries, by building a temple to Jupiter Tonans; yet the Jupiter of the Capitol was certainly the god reputed to hold the thunder. If the place of worship was indifferent to the deity, it was not so to the priests. A similar confusion exists in modern Italy, and perhaps may be traced to a similar source. There is only one Saviour, and one Virgin Mary, yet to address our prayers to the Saviour or Madonna of such a chapel, is not exactly the same thing as to adore those of another, and there are churches dedicated to our Lady of Loreto, as if this were not the Virgin Mary. Misson gives a curious account of a conversation he had with a monk on this subject.
To return to the Temple of Vesta, which is always the first object at Tivoli. I shall not attempt to describe the beauties of the ruin, because it has been so often done before, and because no description can do justice to the reality; but I will point out a few particulars in the construction, with which perhaps you are not so familiar. The cell is formed of opus incertum, which has been described by Vitruvius as a masonry of small pieces of irregular shape, fitted together, and united by mortar. Some writers have supposed that by this term he meant the Cyclopean walls, which are constructed of large pieces without mortar, (of these I shall tell you more hereafter) but his description is sufficiently precise to leave no doubt of his meaning. Of this opus incertum we have reason to think that it was in use in the time of Sylla, and probably much before; and the complaint of Vitruvius, that it was in his time giving way to the opus reticulatum, which though neater, was less strong; together with the want of existing remains which are known to be of later date; will justify us in concluding that it was discontinued in the reign of Augustus. There are some letters on the architrave, the remains of an inscription, but all that exists is L. Gellius, L. F. There was, I believe, a Lucius Gellius in the time of Sylla, but I cannot now recollect where I met with the name. Now the construction of the walls, and the forms of the capital very much resemble some fragments remaining at Palestrina, belonging to the temple of Fortune, which we know to have been restored and greatly enlarged by Sylla; and at Pompei there are capitals of a similar taste, but evidently much prior to the earthquake which preceded its final calamity; and putting all these circumstances together we may, with some probability, assign this building to the time of Sylla. These capitals are not ornamented with the leaves, either of the acanthus or the olive, but with some which rather resemble those of the Verbascum sinuatum; and neither they, nor any part of the building, offer the least trace of Greek taste, as distinguished from that of Rome. We do not find at Rome any examples of similar capitals, except an unappropriated fragment or two of peperino, which may have belonged to the same period. Within the cell is a recess, which seems to have been the work of later ages. It has a large doorway, and a window, both of which are considerably smaller upwards. The material of the opus incertum is a sort of tufo, but the dressings which surround the door and window, together with the external order, and the continued pedestal on which it stands, are of a coarse, calcareous, fresh-water deposit, much resembling travertine. This, in the columns at least, and perhaps everywhere else, was covered with a very thin coat of fine, hard stucco, and the opus reticulatum was probably covered with stucco also, but it must have had more substance, or it would not have concealed the little inequalities of the work below. The cornice has no modillions, and the dentil band is uncut; otherwise it would have been a regular Ionic entablature, as directed by Vitruvius. The columns have settled a little outwards, as is evident from the openings in the entablature. Here are sufficient vestiges of steps, to prove that they descended laterally, and were not brought straight out, as they are usually published, but there is not enough remaining to make out distinctly all the particulars. After the temple of Vesta, to which I paid not one, but many visits, I noticed the little square edifice just by, now the church of St. George. Little remains but the back of the temple, and a portion of one flank, with Ionic half-columns very much decayed; showing it to have been a tetrastyle, pseudo-peripteral temple, of the most ancient, and simplest form. It has no beauty in itself, and in some points of view is very much in the way of the other temple, which it almost touches. I should tell you that Lord Bristol bought the circular temple. The bargain was completed, and the owner was just preparing to pull it down and ship it for England, when an order from the government put a stop to the proceeding. This temple, or at least the columns and entablature, has been closely imitated at the N. W. corner of the bank of England, and a portion of its circular form is also adopted.
The next objects were the Waterfall and the Grotto of Neptune. Fontana built a wall to preserve a head of water for the forges, and the use of the city, and the water now tumbles over this, and the rocks upon which it is built, for the height of about sixty feet, and after dashing and foaming for some yards among broken masses, loses itself in a dark and deep recess. A winding path descends by the Ionic temple, presenting a succession of the most romantic views, to the grotto of Neptune. We are astonished to see scenery so wild in the midst of cultivation, and close to, nay almost within the circuit of a town of considerable size. Near the path we are shown the impression of a wheel, which having been buried in the rock deposited from the water, and since decayed, has left the exact mould of a considerable portion of the circumference, and of some of the spokes. All around you, from the top to the bottom of the deep chasm, rather than valley, to which you are descending; a depth I suppose, of not less than 250 feet, you see nothing but the rock thus formed by the river. The water, which had disappeared after its leap down the great cascade, rushes out of the grotto of Neptune in another fall, and when standing to look at it at the distance of 50 or 60 yards, the spray descends like a heavy shower, which a strong wind drives against the face. On the other side, another portion of the river falls from an opening in the rock in the upper part of the chasm, and our position between the two, produces a strange undefined confusion in the head, which it is impossible to describe. The streams unite below us, and after tumbling a little way among rocks, they are lost in another cavern, called the grotto of the Syren; but all these names are modern fancies, which merely serve to distinguish the different places. You may cross the stream over the last-mentioned grotto, and descending on the opposite side, enter into its mouth and look down the abyss. All these caverns are very much inclined in their direction, and the water falls, rather than flows through them. The inequality of the ground renders it necessary to make a long circuit in order to reach the lower part of the river; and in so doing you may observe, or fancy you observe, some remains of the ancient bridge, which stood nearly where is now the grotto of the Syren, deeply encrusted in this universal deposit. Looking upwards, you see the temple, the city, the rocks, the falls, combined in the most magical manner. It is a scene however, which it is difficult to characterize. It might be called sublime, if the objects of beauty were not so numerous; and if its sublimity and beauty were less impressive, you would pronounce it the most picturesque view that was ever beheld. Some parts of the rocks are covered with aloes; their tall flower-stalks rising above the olive groves; and some with the Indian fig; both of which give a singularity to the scene which renders it more attractive. The river after its second disappearance, bubbles up with great force at the foot of a high rock, in a most delightful sequestered spot. It is said to deposit about one inch and a half per annum of its solid tartar; if so it ought to be continually elevating its bed, yet there is a hole thirty or forty feet above its present level, through which it has evidently run, and still higher, another passage; indeed, as I said before, the whole rock to the very summit, is of the same nature, and its formation has forced the water through partial channels at different elevations, instead of always keeping the lowest part of the valley. This deposit only takes place where the water is disturbed, and above the town there is none of it.
From this spot we have to climb again into a road which runs on the slope of the hills opposite to the town; but do not imagine that we have to regret this exertion; every step of the way abounds with such varied beauty, that we are glad of anything which detains us. I shall not attempt to carry you to the numerous villas about Tivoli; you can hardly walk a furlong in any direction without stumbling on some of their ruins, but I shall mention a few of them as they occur. The next object in the usual tour is the Villa of Horace; not that he had any villa on the spot, but there were fragments which wanted a name, and they gave it a very pretty one, not forgetful of his relation to Mæcenas, whose pretended habitation stands on the opposite side of the valley. It is a pity to doubt, but after having examined, you cannot have any confident belief. These ruins, like all the rest, are merely some of the substructions and vaults, made in order to obtain a level surface for the principal apartment, and probably for the court of the villa. Nature has pretty generally denied this about Tivoli, and all the ancient villas in the neighbourhood are on slopes, where works of this sort were necessary, and they were carried to an immense extent. Other constructions followed lower down, to support the gardens and fishponds, forming a succession of terraces, of which the modern Italians have frequently taken advantage to plant their olive-grounds. It seems to me, that the Romans were fond of such situations and modes of construction, as we frequently see them where they might have been avoided without much difficulty, and it is even probable that they often resided in these semi-subterranean apartments, which would be cooler than those exposed all round to the air. There are some peculiarities of disposition and construction in this villa of Horace, as indeed most of the remains have something which renders them remarkable; and it is extremely interesting to stand on the spot, and to speculate on the probable use of the different parts; but this is a gratification which would be lost in description. The vast extent also of these half-ruined vaults impresses the mind with a sort of admiration; we seem to have got among a race whose exertions were not limited by the weakness and poverty of modern man. A little beyond, at the intersection of two roads, is the Villa of Quintilius Varus, one of the largest of these immense places, and I have wandered through, and over the vaults, and on the terraces of the gardens, with an astonishment continually increasing. We may add to the effect of the ruins themselves, that all the situations are enchanting; some command more perfectly the Campagna and distant Rome; others enjoy better the delightful valley of the Anio, where rocks and cultivation, vines, olives, and natural woods, unite to enrich and vary the scene; and the cascatelle pour down the steep and rocky bank in white foam, and occasion a light mist which hangs as a beautiful veil over the surrounding objects. Amongst however, the charms of this valley, I should not omit the Styrax officinalis, which grows abundantly in some parts, and is now covered with flowers; I am assured that the fruit yields an excellent oil, not inferior to that of the olive, and sometimes in greater quantity.
The usual tour follows the left-hand of the two roads abovementioned, but I one day took the right-hand path, with a young abate, a relation of the landlord of the inn, to look after Cyclopean walls.
In England, a little more than 200 years carries us back to a distinct and peculiar style of architecture, and we consequently consider its productions as antiquities. In Italy, what does not exceed 400 years is absolutely modern, and a production is hardly considered as ancient, unless it date at least before the destruction of the Roman empire, under the reign of Augustulus, at the close of the 5th century. The buildings of the early emperors have an undoubted claim to the title, and still more those of the republic; but what name shall we apply to those which were erected 1,800 years before Christ. This date is boldly claimed for some of the Cyclopean walls; of which construction, it is said, that there are 108 citadels in Italy, and the thorough-going Italian antiquary, though he is contented to admit, that the oldest were not erected more than 2760 years before the Christian era, yet will not admit that any of them can be more recent than the foundation of Rome. They were, according to him, introduced into Italy by Saturn, but their earliest use in the temple of Hercules, at Tyre, was 2,760 years before Christ. Leaving these suppositions, we may be justified in considering the walls in question as the earliest remains of building in Italy. They are, as you know, built with great irregular blocks of stone, made even on the face, or nearly so, not squared, nor laid in regular courses, but the inequalities are fitted to each other as much as possible, and the interstices filled up with smaller stones. In what is probably the earliest style of all, no tool seems to have been applied to the stone, but the rude masses are merely heaped on one another, taking care in the position of each successive block, to place it where it would most nearly fit into the work, and probably keeping the smoothest side outwards, to form the face of the wall; but the work is always rude and uneven. In the second style, the tool has been used more or less, in order to make the great stones fit with some degree of accuracy; and in both these, one may easily conceive the use of the leaden rule described by Herodotus, which, being bent to the internal angle, left on the top of the wall, would be applied to the external angles of the stone intended to be placed in it. In the third sort of Cyclopean walls, lines nearly horizontal are decidedly more numerous than those in any other direction, and here and there, are some appearances of level courses. These, in later times, predominated more and more, till in the fourth and last style, the only irregularity is found in the unequal thickness of the stones of the same course, corrected sometimes by the introduction of a sloping line, or more often by a notch to let the larger stone into the course above or below. Though I believe this to have been the general progress of the art, yet you must not imagine them as distinctly characterizing different periods; on the contrary, there is hardly any considerable wall of Cyclopean masonry, which does not exhibit in different parts, two of these methods; and sometimes three are found, without any appearance that they have been restorations of different periods; we may however observe, that the second style is most common in Latium, the fourth in Tuscany; the third is perhaps about equally diffused in both countries. At all times, these blocks were used without cement, and all that I have hitherto seen, are mere terrace walls against a hill, and exhibiting in consequence one face only; but I am told of instances where both sides are seen, and that in such cases two walls are built back to back, without any attention to the regularity, or evenness of what was to be the internal part, and without any filling in. No arches, that is, no system of wedges mutually supporting each other, is to be found, though such an arrangement would seem to grow more easily out of these inclined lines, than from regular courses of stones; but where there are openings, (of which I have seen none hitherto) there is a very large stone, worked square, and laid horizontally to cover it; and in one instance, at Arpino (perhaps because the builders could not meet with a stone large enough to cover the opening,) the size of the aperture is reduced by advancing courses, into the form of a pointed arch. There is indeed a real arch at Fiesole, which by some has been supposed to be part of the Cyclopean construction, but both the arch and the fragment on which it rests are obviously of a date much posterior. There are many remains of Cyclopean walls both at Tivoli and Palestrina, and as according to Virgil, Tibur and Præneste were founded about the time that Æneas landed in Italy; this epoch has been assigned to their construction, but it must be confessed, that the argument is not altogether conclusive. It is held essential to Cyclopean walls, that there should be no cement, and à fortiori, no rubble-work employed in their composition; but in this neighbourhood, at what is called the villa of Brutus, which I shall shortly mention to you; there is a wall of Cyclopean masonry, resting for its whole length, and apparently backed in its whole extent by a wall of rubble. This Cyclopean wall has been faced by another of opus reticulatum, so common in the time of Augustus, and in that of the first emperors, and which may be seen in almost all the villas about Tivoli. It seems that the Romans did not like the appearance of these large irregular blocks, and covered them with a masonry of small fragments more suited to their taste. These circumstances render it probable that none of these walls are so late as the time of the emperors, but we have no proof that they were not in use a century before that period.
There are some of these walls in the villa attributed to Ventidius Bassus, which appear to rest on a rubble-work, held together by cement; but without digging, I could not be quite certain. We continued our walk considerably farther, and found at Vetriano other considerable fragments of Cyclopean walls, but always built to support the earth behind them, and to support terraces. The stones are worked with some approach to horizontal courses and the wall strengthened by buttresses. There are breaks enough to show that it is backed by emplecton, or rubble-work, for its whole extent, and this emplecton is perfectly rude, and without any appearance of having been laid by hand, so that it destroys a theory I had formed which pretended to distinguish the rubble-work connected with the Cyclopean walls from that of a later period. Here are some mosaics quite on the surface: they seem still to be very numerous about Tivoli, notwithstanding the quantities which have been removed or destroyed, but in general it is necessary to dig for them. Not far from Vetriano, there are Roman constructions in brick, and the foundations and mosaics of a Roman villa have been found by digging in the vineyards. Here also is an oil-mill, and it appears evident that the oil has corroded the stone. Nearer to Tivoli there is another considerable Cyclopean wall, which is distinctly rusticated, and has large and solid buttresses.
From Vetriano I continued my way alone (the abate returning to his dinner), to the quarries of travertine, where I was shewn two great blocks going to England in the shape of the eagles of the villa Borghese. The part they are at present working has the appearance of being a deposit, filling up an ancient excavation. The quality of the stone is exactly like that of the Lago de Tartari, except that it is much more compact; but it is as evidently a fresh-water formation. The quarryman assured me that the bones of a Christian had been found there. These quarries extend to within a moderate distance of the Solfatara, already described. The ancient quarries are in the same bed, but on the opposite side of the road to Rome. They are now filled with bushes, and form a hollow near the river, perhaps two miles round, an excellent harbour for game. In crossing from one to the other I passed two aqueducts, one of which divides itself into two branches. The length, the number, and the winding course of these aqueducts, render it extremely difficult to trace them, or to comprehend their disposition; indeed, for a passing stranger, it is impossible, and it could only be done by a most careful survey, and an accurate determination of the position, and the level of every fragment. The nature of the tufo, or deposit on their sides, would perhaps yield some assistance. We are surprised at this point to observe their rapid declension: about Tivoli we see them winding along, to accommodate themselves to the form of the hill, and to maintain their elevation; here they are almost on the level of the upper part of the Campagna, at least 300 feet lower than those which are observed at a distance of not more than two miles. After leaving the quarries, I passed over the Ponte Lucano, and by the Plautian monument, and leaving Hadrian’s villa on the right, and the road to Tivoli on the left, went directly up the hill to look after more Cyclopean walls, and to see the villas of Brutus and Cassius. The remains of these are of immense extent, but they are only substructions like the rest; by substructions, however, you must not understand mere foundations of walls just peeping above the surface; they consist of long walls and vaults, sometimes parallel with the direction of the hill, and sometimes in that of the slope, supporting terraces covered with earth, and olive-trees. The lower terrace of the villa of Brutus must be above 400 feet long, and the wall which supports it near 40 feet high. The second is nearly of the same length, and about 30 feet in height, but interrupted. The third is also considerable; that of Cassius was larger, but not so regular. The ilex, the lentiscus, and various other shrubs, hung about these ruins; and the broad deep green leaves of the fig, contrast with the light silvery gray spray of the olive. Indeed, in this neighbourhood, every waste spot of ground presents a collection of beautiful shrubs, most of which are now in flower. Higher up the mountain, the gray rocks are principally covered with the Spanish broom, and a large coarse grass (Arundo ampelodesmus) though not without a mixture of the humbler growth of cistuses and helianthema. All this sounds very beautiful, and in fact it is so, but the features are so much hid by the continued grove of olive-trees, that they are almost lost in the effect of the general scenery, and you may pass through the country, and see very little of it.
This digression has entirely carried me away from the usual tour, which was the first I made, and which I had begun to describe to you. I left it just at the villa of Quintilius Varus. From every opening in this part of the walk you have a view of the long portico of the villa of Mæcenas, crowning the opposite hill, on lofty arched substructions, and of the Cascatelle, rushing down the slope in sheets of foam, into the valley beneath. We may leave the road soon after the bifurcation, where I took the right-hand track, and keeping still more to the left, than the left-hand path, descend to the bottom of the hill, to enjoy more fully the view of the Cascatelle. The prospect varies at every step of the descent. We first lose the distant Campagna, which is disclosed from the upper part of the slope, and soon afterwards the olive-groves beyond the villa of Mæcenas; while the villa itself seems more majestically placed; the water falling in various directions becomes of more consequence; and the rich woods of the high bank opposite to us display all their beauties. The great Cascatella furnishes a considerable mass of water, but though the fall is much higher than any that I have before described, yet as it occupies a much more open situation, the character of the scenery has less of the sublime than that about the grotto of the Syren, and more of the beautiful.
There are a great many other fragments of villas about here, but as they have nothing very characteristic, I shall not stop to enumerate them. We will therefore pass on to the Ponticelli, or Ponte Acquorio, but before crossing it, I will mention a beautiful spring called Acqua Aurea, which rises by the side of the river, just above the bridge, and gives to it the latter name: the former is thought to be a corruption of Pons Gellius. You are told that a scheme was once in agitation to carry this water to Rome, but on taking its level, it was found to be too low. This does not seem to me at all probable. The Teverone is a pretty brisk stream; and in a course, which, including the windings, must equal twenty-five miles, it can hardly fall less than 75 feet, in which case the Acqua Aurea might enter Rome, not indeed at the Porta Maggiore, but 50 feet above the level of the Tiber. The Lea, from Hertford to Stratford, runs about the same distance, and I think not more rapidly, and though we have to remount the Thames from thence to London, we find the reservoir of the New River 84 feet above the tide.
The ancient road to Tivoli passed over this bridge, and some fragments of the ancient work remain. At a very small distance is a cavern, partly, if not entirely artificial, with some niches on the side, called the Temple of the World; and on ascending the hill, we find a domed, octagonal hall, denominated Tempio della Tosse, but supposed by antiquaries to have derived its name from an ancient Tivolese family. Its ancient destination is unknown, but in after-times it appears to have been converted into a church, and retains some traces of such an appropriation.
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.
The next day was principally spent in examining the remains of the Temple of Fortune, for which this city was once celebrated. The temple and its appendages must have been enormous. I mentioned to you having seen at Paris, the drawings of this edifice by M. Huyot. He had traced the existing remains with the greatest care, and finding that the various edifices of which he determined the plans, were so placed as to admit a corresponding series opposite to them, and in one or two cases observing the vestiges of such correspondent buildings, he concluded the whole to be on one uniform symmetrical plan, and imagined buildings for whose existence there was hardly any evidence; however, everybody acknowledges the care and accuracy with which he examined the present ruins, and the judgment with which he has in general supplied the deficiencies. The only fault found is, that in some instances he has done too much. What remains of the decorative architecture corresponds with that of the round temple at Tivoli; and is probably, as I have already observed, of the time of Sylla. The rest consists of a succession of terraces, some of which are raised upon vaults, and some are supported by Cyclopean walls. These were the platforms on which the temples (for there were several subordinate temples dedicated to other divinities) and attendant edifices were erected. Of these accessory edifices scarcely anything remains. The modern town stands on the site of this extensive building, and does not even occupy the whole of it. The gardens belonging to the prince Barberini are placed on part of one of the lower terraces, and are partly supported on seven great vaults, each above 100 feet long, and more than 20 feet wide; they are lofty, but do not appear to have been erected for any other purpose than the support of the terrace. The middle of this terrace would have rested on firm ground, but the other extremity wanted, and probably had, supports of a similar nature, which are now destroyed. Wherever we turn ourselves in Palestrina, we find fragments of antiquity. The lower terrace was perhaps an addition of some of the emperors. A great deal was no doubt the work of Sylla, and some other parts were probably of an earlier date. We find here a considerable quantity of the opus incertum; and besides the capitals and bases, which resemble those of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli, there is a peculiar Ionic entablature, with very narrow dentils. Above the rest is a large semicircular wall, which now makes part of the foundation of the palace of the prince Barberini; and in the middle of this there is a small circular edifice, which M. Huyot considers as also built upon the ancient foundations, but I could not obtain any direct evidence for this opinion. If it were really the case, it must have been the principal object; the cell or adytum of the temple of Fortune itself; a very small centre to so large a mass of building. I know of no other example either of ancient or modern times where so great a number of edifices, and occupying so great an extent, were combined into one regular and symmetrical plan; and our admiration is still increased when we consider that it was necessary, not only to erect the building, but absolutely to build a place for it to stand on. I doubt after all, if it ever were a handsome fabric, and certainly at present, it cannot boast much attraction as an object merely of beauty. A fragment below it, called the Temple of the Sun, is a picturesque object, and might be united with an admirable landscape, the spectator looking towards Monte Albano; but like a great many other ruins, it stands in a vineyard, where the vines prevent any good view from within its circuit; and standing on the outside, the high enclosure hides a great part of the building. I forgot to mention a curious mosaic in the palace of prince Barberini, supposed to represent the animals of Egypt. The name of each is written in Greek characters underneath the figure. There are also representations of buildings, but if they are not given more faithfully than the animals, there is not much to be learned from them in architecture. After a hasty look over the different fragments in this temple, I went to some other Cyclopean walls, running obliquely up the hill. The antiquaries say that these were prior to the erection of the ancient Præneste, which was built at the foot of the hill below the present town. Præneste, according to Virgil, was just founded when Æneas landed in Italy. About three fourths of a mile from the town is another temple of the Sun, or at least, what my Cicerone called by that name, but I suspect he made a mistake, and did not report correctly the tradition of the place. After this we took a walk to what is called the Palace of Constantine. The ruins consist of numerous vaults and foundations, very much in the style of those about Tivoli, and probably much earlier than Constantine. A church has since been erected upon them. At Palestrina I lived upon pigeons, for which the place is famous; they are so large that I found one of them a good dinner. On the 29th I took my place for Rome in a sort of stage, which does not go with perfect regularity. The conversation was very much about a certain Barbone, who had committed great depredations in the vicinity; and of other robbers, and robberies, but we had two soldiers in the party, and thought that we had nothing to fear. These robbers are said to have increased under the government of the French: the peasantry here hated it, and to avoid the conscription and other oppressions, they retired to their mountains, and took up this trade, which they are now unwilling to abandon, and the mistaken lenity of the papal government encourages them to persevere. I have passed no uninhabited tracts, such as the fancy represents to us as the abode of banditti, but I suppose there are many such among the mountains. Part of the modern road to Rome runs on the pavement of the ancient Via Palestrina, but whatever are its merits in solidity and durability, it is not convenient. Its too smooth and even surface does not afford a sure footing to the horses.
LETTER XXXVII.
TUSCULUM, ALBANO, OSTIA.
Rome, 18th June, 1817.
After my return from Palestrina, I stayed but a few days in Rome, and again set out to visit other places in the neighbourhood. In that interval I was present at a procession to obtain rain; as the wet which I found so inconvenient at Tivoli and Subiaco, does not seem to have reached the vicinity of Rome. The Piazza in front of St. Peter’s was decorated by posts bound round with oak branches, and the portico of the church hung with crimson damask, striped with gold. The poor pope was carried round the square, kneeling, and leaning indeed upon cushions, but entirely wrapt up, except the head, in hot and heavy garments, and immoveable; he did not appear in health, and everybody seemed to compassionate him: it is a pity a wax figure could not be substituted in his place. The procession afterwards entered the church, but there was nothing remarkable in the ceremonies.
I am surprised at your incredulity about St. Peter’s toe. It is considerably worn; I intended for your satisfaction to have measured precisely the waste, but I have not yet done it. The marble foot of Michael Angelo’s Christ in the Minerva, was so much worn, that it was deemed necessary to give it a brass slipper, which begins to feel the effects of this mode of devotion; yet for one kiss on this, St. Peter must have ten. It is not however exclusively by kissing; the devotees rub it with their hands, and apply it to the forehead, before and after putting their lips to it.
My next excursion began with Frascati, where I went in a diligence of the same nature as those which run to Tivoli and Palestrina. We observed as usual, from the road, a variety of ruins, and among others, some very extensive ones at the foot of the hill, supposed to be the remains of the villa of Lucullus, but with considerable restorations of a later date. Frascati is situated on a considerable ascent, though the hill continues to rise still more behind it. At the lower part of the declivity are the remains of two villas; and at a convent a little below the town, some very extensive substructions, which dispute with those already mentioned, the honour of being the villa of Lucullus. I found here a locanda, or sort of lodging-house, and nearly opposite to it a trattoria. It is astonishing that places so much frequented as these about Rome, should be so deficient in good inns. I spent the afternoon in looking at some of the villas immediately above the town, and enjoying the beauty of the scenery; and the next morning walked to Grotto Ferrata, a delightful path, through groves of different species of oak (Quercus Robur, Cerris, and Ilex) with frequent catches of the Campagna, but without that full exposure which its naked barrenness makes disagreeable. Grotto Ferrata is a convent seated on the edge of a little valley, with some foundations, which are said to have belonged to the villa of Cicero, and boasts some very beautiful frescos of Domenichino, particularly the celebrated demoniac boy. I continued my walk as far as Marino, to see some other paintings, one of which is an admirable production of Guercino. In returning, I followed a road higher up the hill, but it would have been better to have kept lower down, where several fragments of antiquity are distinguishable.
My next walk was to Tusculum, which belongs to Lucien Buonaparte; the villa in which he usually resides is called Rufanelli. On the road, I stopt at a convent to see a crucifix painted by Guido; a little figure about six inches long painted upon a cross; and a St. Francis, by Paul Brill, which is uncommonly fine for him. The villa at Rufanelli commands a very fine view, but it is rather too elevated for picturesque beauty. About it are numerous fragments of architecture, which Lucien Buonaparte has dug up in the neighbourhood, but they are not generally in a good style. The excavations at present in hand are at the top of the hill, where the ancient town stood. There are vestiges of an amphitheatre, called by the people the school of Cicero, and some more interesting remains of a theatre, while in every part we see fragments of ancient foundations. The town was destroyed only about the year 1200, which seems almost to bring it into modern times; but these places which continue to occupy for long a period their ancient situations, are not the most favourable for antiquities. Continual changes, adapting the buildings to new purposes, destroy the ancient arrangement. The great rage for altering and renewing everything does not however seem to have taken place in Italy till the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when new churches, new convents, and new palaces, consumed the old materials with great rapidity. The ancient columns were then removed to new positions, and what was left either of Roman or Gothic, was buried in new walls, or under new decorations. We trace here the ancient streets, and can fix the position of two gates. Beyond the further gate there is a portion of the ancient city wall, of squared stones, which however divides singularly into two parts, and both parts are afterwards lost among reticulated work. Just at the division there are an ancient reservoir and fountain. The reservoir is covered with two sloping stones instead of a vault. Many curious little particulars have been discovered in these excavations, which are very interesting to a person on the spot, when the mind is excited and directed to the subject. Much of the earth thrown out from them is as complete a cinder, as if it were just ejected from Vesuvius, and the direction of the hills is such, that we might easily fancy them surrounding an enormous crater, from which the present Monte Cavo has arisen.
From Tusculum I walked to Mondragone, a vast palace of the princes Borghese, misled by a false report of ancient walls. In the afternoon I visited an ancient fragment in the town, said to be the monument of Lucullus; and they pretend that an inscription was found there to that effect, but where that inscription now is, nobody could tell me. My last object was a large circular monument, the sepulchre of Lucius Valerius Corvinus, below the town, and nearly at the foot of the hill. It seems to have been in the style of the Plautian monument, or of the Cecilia Metella.
Next morning I set out, after an early breakfast, intending to reach the summit of Monte Albano, or of Monte Cavo, which is its common name. The road at first passes among cultivated enclosures, which change as it approaches Rocca del Papa, into delightful groves of chesnut. Rocca del Papa is a village situated on a lofty pinnacle, composed of a heap of cinders, forming part of the edge of an ancient volcano. In a hot climate we feel the advantage a town enjoys in occupying these points of land; the only wonder is, that the necessity of cultivating the valleys, has not induced people to choose such as were rather less elevated; for the peasantry seem to live very much in the towns, and not each on the land he cultivates, as in England. It has been supposed that the unhealthiness of the Campagna arose from the hot days and cold nights there experienced; but the inhabitants of these places, labouring all day in the close valleys, and returning at night to their airy dwellings, must experience much greater difference; and yet all these places are reckoned perfectly healthy. From Rocca del Papa, a narrow ridge extends to the summit of the hill, and the path lies along this ridge; it is covered with wood, but nevertheless we see below us at intervals the Campi di Annibale, on the one side, forming the bottom of the ancient crater, and on the other, on a much lower level, the extended Campagna, and the city of Rome; the most conspicuous object of which is the church of St. John Lateran. The latter part of the way is along the ancient Via Triumphalis, much of the pavement of which remains. A convent has taken the place of the ancient temple of Jupiter Latialis, and a few fragments of wall, and numbers of the squared stones employed in the building attest the existence of the former edifice. There is a garden attached to the convent, occupying precisely the summit of the hill, the soil under which is said to be full of fragments. I should suppose Monte Cavo to be about as much elevated above Rome, as Ingleborough is above the little town at its base, i. e. about 2,000 or 2,200 feet, yet here is a productive garden, with fruit-trees and a fine meadow. We cease to associate the idea of mountains, with that of barrenness, which are so strongly connected in our cold and wet climate.
In descending, I followed the ancient Via Triumphalis, as far as it was traceable; but missing my way, returned almost to Rocca del Papa. I could hardly regret the error, as the walk from thence towards Albano is exceedingly beautiful, overlooking the lake and the Campagna, but in the latter part of the way, the woods become thicker, and exclude all view. Discontented with the confinement, I scrambled to the edge of the crater which contains the lake of Albano, and found a charming path among the woods on its slope, by which I continued to the ridge of the hill just above Albano, popping the pods of the bladder senna, by way of amusement, as I went along. I found an excellent inn at Albano, and after getting some dinner, returned to enjoy the view from the line of hills which surrounds this beautiful lake; the fine circular sheet of water is expanded below us; over the edge of the surrounding hills we see the Campagna, but greatly foreshortened, and Rome in the distance; on the other side is the convent of Palazzuolo, crowning its steepest and highest bank, and above that Monte Albano, covered with wood. In the way I examined the ruins of the amphitheatre, but very little remains. While looking at it I was joined by rather a shabbily dressed young man, about, I suppose, eighteen years old, who talked to me on various subjects, repeated verses of Horace and Virgil, in a manner which shewed, not only that he understood them, but was capable of entering into their beauties, and gave me afterwards some Latin verses of his own. He conducted me by a short road, as he said, to some of the ruins of the villa of Domitian, now occupied by the house and gardens of the Villa Barberini. It has been immense; but at present we find nothing remaining but great vaults and substructions; a most beautiful sunset, which I enjoyed from its terraces to the greatest advantage, made ample amends for the deficiency of the antiquities. Next morning I went to the villa of Pompey, the present Villa Doria; you know the Italians when they speak of the villa, do not mean the house, which is palazzo, palazzino, or casino, but the whole enclosure, containing, besides the small place appropriated merely to pleasure and show, a large garden cultivated for profit, and frequently vineyards, olive-grounds, and corn-fields. It was disputed at a Roman academy what constituted the difference between a villa and a vigna, and it was decided that they are the same thing. The ornamental part usually consists of a few terrace-walks, with clipt edges of bay, or sometimes shaded with ilex; and it is only a few of the principal, immediately about Rome, which considerably differ from this description. Such a villa is that of Doria at Albano, but it includes also a most delightful little bit of wood, which entirely covers the ancient ruins. The white houses of Albano, seen among the dark foliage of the venerable ilices, had the prettiest effect imaginable. Hence I walked to Castel Gandolfo, and down to the shores of the lake, which must be near 300 feet below the palace of the popes. Some fishermen were drawing their nets, but all they had caught consisted of two or three moderate sized tench, and a quantity of small fry. My principal object here was of course to see the celebrated Emissario, which as you know is an artificial subterraneous channel, of considerable length, made by the Romans to discharge the waters of the lake, and it is still the only passage they have; but the story of its formation is a very strange one. During the siege of Veii, the waters of the lake rose in dry weather to a very extraordinary elevation, so that the Romans were afraid it would overflow; terrified by the prodigy, they sent ambassadors to Delphi to learn what was to be done, and the answer enjoined them to let out the waters, but to take care that they did not flow into the sea. Now the lake is a complete crater, without any continued valley by which it could ever have found a natural outlet, and to have overflowed the edges of the basin would have required an elevation, above the present level, of I suppose 150 feet.[[10]] A few trifling springs on the banks, and probably some underwater, form its permanent supplies, and the country which drains into it, is of such small extent, that I do not believe six inches of rain would raise it thirty feet from its present level, and not a fourth part of that, if the water stood nearly up to the top of its banks. Perhaps this wonderful rise proceeded from some volcanic discharge; yet the danger does not seem to have been very pressing, since the Romans had time to send to Greece for instructions. The direction of the existing channel is nearly in a line towards the shore, but the natural direction of the hollows which receive it, conduct it towards the Tiber, into which it at present flows, yet it may have been dispersed, and perhaps in summer lost before it arrived there. The whole looks very much like a scheme to procure an irrigation for some lands whose dry soil produced but little. If the lake was to be lowered 150 feet, the tapping it would be both difficult and dangerous; but if it was only necessary to lower it 15 or 20, the execution would not require any great degree of contrivance; and the soil, which is a soft rock, yielding probably in its hardest parts to the pick-axe, and yet everywhere firm enough to maintain itself, facilitated the enterprize. It is however a wonderful work; above a mile and a half in length, and 250 feet from the surface. The front of it was faced with stones, leaving a rectangular opening, covered with a large square block of peperino, which is the material of the rest of the work, and this stone being found near Albano, is likely to have been more exclusively in use here than at Rome. This is probably the original work, but in front, there is now a vault of no great extent, of the same material, but not bonded with the other, and this may perhaps have been an addition or restoration of the emperor Claudius. The water re-appears from under an arch of rubble-work, which I do not take to be very ancient, and after washing all the dirty linen of Albano, runs off, as I have said, towards the Tiber.
I have conducted you away from the lake, without mentioning to you a ruin which is here called the baths of Diana. It is composed of several parts, but the principal is a large vault, formed in an excavation in the slope of the hills. It is a delightful retreat on a hot day, and commands a beautiful view over the lake, though the richness of the vegetation immediately surrounding, hides the water too much. There are some remains, supposed to be of Thermæ, at Albano, which in certain points of view form a fine mass, but I did not see anything characteristic of their destination. Just out of the town, on the road to Naples, is a monument, which has been called the tomb of the Curiatii, but it now seems rather the fashion to consider it a monument erected to Pompey. Nibby thinks it the sepulchre of Aruns, the son of Porsenna, who lost his life in an unsuccessful attack on Aricia; and attributes another tomb to Pompey, at the opposite end of Albano, which appears to have been a tower of three stories in height, cased with marble. His chief argument for each is, that he has found no testimony to the contrary among the ancient writers. Amongst other proofs that the edifice in question is the tomb of Aruns, he quotes Varro’s description of the tomb of Porsenna, as given by Pliny. This appears to have had some resemblance to the present monument, and gives a colour to suppose it an Etruscan edifice, but does not at all connect it with Aruns. It consists of a square basement, supporting five cones, one at each angle, and a larger one in the middle. The masonry is of rubble, formed of fragments of peperino bedded in mortar, and the outside has been covered with large square blocks of peperino. If it be really Etruscan, it would serve to shew that the Romans derived their usual mode of building, i. e. a rubble mass cased with squared stones or bricks, from that people. Farther on, we find the old Appian way, now no longer used, supported to a considerable height, on a wall built of peperino; and in its neighbourhood, some vestiges of the ancient Aricia; the modern town is placed above it.
On the 11th I walked along a very pleasant, and in general a shaded road, through Aricia, or La Riccia, to Genzano. La Riccia is a very picturesque town on the top of a rock, overlooking a little hollow of its own, which probably was once the crater of a volcano, afterwards a lake, and is now a fertile and cultivated valley. Genzano is on one of the points above the Lake of Nemi. The edge of these craters, as you may easily suppose, becomes in time broken down in various places, leaving some parts higher than the rest; and one of these remaining elevated portions of the circuit, gives a situation to Genzano. Here I left the high road to Naples, and kept the road to Nemi, on the north side of the lake, pursuing, for part of my route, an ancient Roman way. The lake is very beautiful, with woody banks mixed with cultivation, and a little valley, prolonged from its upper side, is richly cultivated; but though these volcanic lakes have their charms, they are generally inferior to the more varied forms of those which do not owe their origin to such a source. It is true that the steep bank which surrounds them is not everywhere of the same height, and is occasionally broken by an advancing mass of firmer rock; yet its continuity is sufficiently perfect to produce a degree of monotony; and whichever way you view it, it is still the same round basin, and cannot present those beautiful reaches which so much enhance the charm of some of our own lakes; nor can we expect the receding lines of mountains which indicate the continuation of the valley. But the still expanse of water reflecting the dark blue sky, the rich vegetation, the dark woods which cover the slopes, the magnificent trees which hang over the water, and the rugged points which start here and there from the edge of the crater, form a landscape in which you feel it impossible to be tired of wandering. Nemi itself stands on the highest and boldest of these rocky points, yet the soil looks more like a heap of cinders than a mass of solid stone. Between Nemi and Velletri, I lost my way in the woods which here overspread the country, but I reached the latter city in good time, and took up my quarters at an inn, which was once the palace of the Lancelotti family, and at the back of which is a noble open gallery, about 120 feet long, commanding a most magnificent view over a broad valley, of the nature of the Campagna, but not so wide, and with more cultivation and more wood; and of the Volscian mountains. More to the right are the Pontine marshes, (and these are not in general naked) the long slip of woody country which divides the Campagna and the marshes from the shore, Monte Circello, and the sea. As a considerable portion of the day still remained, I procured a horse to carry me to Cora; it had only one stirrup, which was very short, and very small; and to guide it, something more like a halter than a bridle, was fastened to the head of the animal; the saddle was high and peaked. Thus equipped, I set forth on my expedition on a paved road among vineyards. After some time the pavement ceased, and I passed among pastures, and corn-fields, slightly, or not at all enclosed, but where cultivation seemed to be rather extending itself, and by a little lake, and afterwards along a shady lane, deep in mud, though for some time we have had no rain. On reaching the foot of the mountains, and coasting them by a gradual ascent towards Cora, I found the road frequently to consist of a broken-up pavement; the worst of all possible tracks, but very frequent in the cross roads of Italy. The pavement is made and left; in rainy weather a little current is formed on one side or the other, or sometimes on both; and this undermines the external stones, which soon become loose, and are displaced; and by such a process, sometimes half, sometimes the whole pavement, is worn away; a few isolated fragments still are seen, the rest is an uncertain covering of large stones. A steep descent precedes the entrance into Cora, although the town occupies a high hill. I found the streets so steep and slippery, that I was glad to get off and lead my horse. When I had reached the inn, and put my horse in the stable, I desired the landlord to give him something to eat. He called out for some hay, and down came two trusses out of the two pair of stairs window. I walked up to the room from whence this supply came, and was surprised to find that it wanted some steps of the height of a court on the side of the house, and which afforded another entrance. This may give you some idea of the inequality of the ground. Just below the town is a deep ravine, or rather a cleft in the limestone rock, and the town itself is seated on a rocky hill, of a conical form, which rises immediately from the edge of this chasm. It is almost detached from the chain of Volscian mountains, though placed in a recess amongst them. “Cora è due paesi,” said a boy to me, holding up his thumb and forefinger. The Italians never mention a number under ten, without holding up their fingers, the thumb always occupying the first place; “uno di sotto e uno di sopra.” My inn was in the lower part of the lower town, although I had found the ascent to it so troublesome. The Temple of Hercules is in a convent at the top of the upper. The portico, which has four columns in front, and two in each flank, remains tolerably perfect, and though rather too small, and rather too slender in its proportions for the exalted situation it occupies, produces a very pleasing effect. The elevation of the columns in proportion to their diameter, is not at all displeasing when we are near the edifice; and if they were stuccoed, as was probably the case, the apparent diameter would have been somewhat larger. The smallness of the architrave is much more objectionable, and the abacus also is too small. The style, as well as the proportions, is between the Greek and Roman Doric, but the columns have bases, which are hardly to be found in any other example, either Greek or Roman. These bases are so much decayed, that one cannot venture to decide on the form of the mouldings, but I think there was no fillet. The pilaster capital differs from that of the column. In the lower town there are some remains of a temple of Castor and Pollux. It is of the Corinthian order, and the foliage is in the Greek style, and in, and about it are many portions of Cyclopean walls. A Roman bridge still exists over the deep and narrow chasm I have before mentioned, and in the chasm is a mill (not ancient), where corn is ground for the inhabitants of Cora, after heavy rains; but it is only in such circumstances that there is any water in the hollow. There are some cloisters of the middle ages in the church of Santa Olivia, which deserve to be looked at. They are in two stories, with twice as many arches in the upper as the lower, all resting upon columns; there is a good space between the stories, but it wants a little more ornament. In one church, the font is an ancient altar, with rams’ heads at the corners.
After looking over these antiquities on the evening of my arrival, and the following morning, I returned to Velletri. I had been able to get coffee for my breakfast at Cora, but no milk, which in a mountainous country rather surprised me; but for luncheon I obtained some ricotta, which is goat’s milk curd, boiled I believe, and pressed into little baskets. On the 13th I left the high road, and crossed the fields by a shorter path to Genzano. The scenery is delightful, but the heat was oppressive, for there was no wind, and the path is very much exposed to the sun. From Genzano, I descended to the lake of Nemi to look at the Emissario, which I had missed before, and which was hardly worth visiting, but some fine plane trees growing by the side of the water, and shading it by their spreading branches, very much embellished the scene.
The inn where I had before resided at Albano was full, but I found the other, which is the posthouse, equally good. A little while ago, some vases were said to be found under a bed of lava near Marino, but afterwards the story was so far changed, that instead of lava, the superincumbent bed was peperino. This peperino is certainly a volcanic production, and as there is no tradition among the nations of Italy connected with the Romans, that Monte Albano was an active volcano, an uncertain, but tremendous antiquity was assigned to these vases. On the other hand, although peperino be composed of volcanic substances, and sometimes, as on the borders of the lake of Albano, is certainly in the situation where it was left by the action of the fire, yet it is probable that in some cases the materials may have been acted upon by water, and consolidated in a new spot: even on this supposition we must consider them as the vestiges of a town prior to Alba Longa, which was itself destroyed by Tullus Hostilius in the first century of Rome. Bits of iron, resembling nails of different sizes, are said to have been found in the body of peperino, but there are many details of the circumstances of place, and condition, which have not been observed, and which cannot now be ascertained, the excavations in which the vases were found having been filled up; and this hasty destruction of evidence has thrown a suspicion on the story, for it may well be supposed that the urns were placed in some old hollow, or quarry, in this peperino. The number is considerable; they appear to be all sepulchral, and one great vase has contained several smaller ones. The largest of these included vases has the form of a hut, closed by a door which fastens by a little rod of brass, and they usually contain fragments of burnt bones, various ornaments, little models of shields, spears, &c., and one of a wheel; things apparently indicating the occupations of the deceased. They are all of rude workmanship; not all equally so, but we may doubt if the potter’s wheel was employed in the formation of any of them. Signor Visconti has published an account of them which has no merit, except towards the owner, a Signor Giuseppe Carnovale, who wants to sell the vases, and for whom this little work may serve as a puff. It is said that similar things have been found in Germany, and that these are therefore probably the productions of the middle ages. I left Albano on the 15th, at four o’clock in the morning, and arrived at Rome about half past seven. Nothing can be more delightful than the early hours of an Italian summer’s day, clear, bright, and fresh, without any oppressive sensation of heat.
Before I close this letter I must give you an account of another excursion, or rather of two excursions, each of a single day, down to Ostia. I do not undertake in these expeditions to describe everything that I see. Many of the objects are so similar that they would appear the same in description, though we always find difference enough to interest us in the reality. I might indeed have said something about the reservoir of Marius at Albano, and about the prætorian camp, attributed to Domitian, in the same neighbourhood, one of the stones of which is fifteen feet and a half long, and where Nibby is sure that there were four towers, for he saw traces of one of them; but I shall leave these, and a hundred other things which would scarcely interest you.
My first trip to Ostia was on the 15th of April, a fine frosty morning, when there was ice on the puddles and at the edges of the brooks, but elsewhere everything was dry and dusty. The corn on the hills began to look yellow for want of rain, but that in the valleys was strong and healthy, and the hawthorn was just coming into flower in spite of the frost, which has come this year so much after its usual time. The road follows the valley of the Tiber, which is bounded by low hills, descending pretty steeply towards the stream; sometimes close to the river, sometimes receding from it, and leaving a wide and fertile plain. In the first part of the way it is well cultivated, but thinly inhabited; farther on, cultivation diminishes, and ceases when we ascend an advancing and conspicuous point of these hills, and descend into the remains of the sacred wood. It is here mere brushwood, but at a distance to the left we may perceive plenty of large trees. The cutting down of this sacred wood is said to have occasioned the mal aria to extend much more about Rome; but this mal aria is a very mysterious affair, and many inconsistent stories are told about it. The letting in the sea breezes has ruined the country; yet the sea-shore is more healthy than the land immediately behind it. Within the walls of Rome some houses are said to be totally uninhabitable in the summer, while others, a hundred yards distant, because they are a little higher, a little farther from the Tiber, or from the country, or more surrounded by other houses, are pronounced entirely free. Out of Rome, and in the less inhabited parts within its walls, the hills are reckoned better than the valleys; but in modern Rome, the lower part of the city is more healthy than the upper. The Romans fancy that turning up the ground, in order to make a public garden on Monte Pincio, has made the street below it unhealthy. This mal aria occurs in the heats of summer, and in autumn, but this spring has been very unhealthy in Rome, and I believe, all over Italy. Among the numerous causes to which the mal aria is attributed, the alternation of hot days and cold nights, or rather perhaps, of hot sun and cold wind, is one; and we had a great deal of this during the months of March and April, but perhaps we shall find the root of the present disorder, rather in the scarcity of food, and the consequent bad nourishment of the people. The quantity of asphodel (Asphodelus ramosus) in this wood gives it a very un-English appearance. After passing the wood, the road lies for two or three miles across a marsh, comprising a large pool, or lake. These pieces of water in flat countries frequently have considerable beauty; but I do not think that a Norfolk Broad, though somewhat similar, would give you any adequate idea of this mere. It is of considerable size, and the dark shade of the woods of Castel Fusano, with trees of the stone pine rising over some gently swelling hills at the further end, formed a beautiful feature; while as we approached Ostia, the high hills of Albano united with this wood and water to compose a charming landscape.
The present town of Ostia is a miserable place, with a castle of the middle ages, which is certainly picturesque. The remains of the old city are at some distance; a large space of ground, all covered over with foundations and substructions. The principal building remaining is a rectangular brick edifice, probably a temple, in front of which was a portico; but the columns, and all the ornamental architecture, have been destroyed or taken away; some fragments still lying about, and others which have been removed to the Vatican, announce it to have been of a very beautiful Corinthian order; and both the style and execution correspond so precisely with the remains of the forum of Trajan at Rome, that I have no doubt in assigning it to the same period, and the same architect. A great deal of digging has been performed here at different times, but as usual, with the mere object of finding marbles or bronzes, without any regular system of operations, and without the precaution of making any exact plan of the foundations of buildings thus exposed and covered up again. On the other side of the principal branch of the Tiber are the remains of the port and basin of Trajan, now a shallow lake. It appears to have been a heptagonal basin of perhaps half a mile in diameter. The regularity of the form has been disturbed by time, but we may still trace the walls which surrounded it, and which indeed form a great part of its present boundary. Some of the marble posts to which the ships were moored, still remain; and there are fragments of what were probably warehouses, and buildings of that nature attached to this port. There is also a circular building which perhaps was a temple. The whole together was truly a magnificent undertaking, but whether it was a judicious one may perhaps be doubted. As a port, nature has declared against it, and it is destroyed, nor does there seem to have been any provision for keeping it clear.
From Ostia I walked down to the shore, among brushwood of a hundred flowering shrubs. The sand hills nearest the sea are chiefly covered with junipers. The sand itself is dark, and has a dirty look, arising from its colour; its material is chiefly volcanic. Herds of buffaloes graze in these woods, the ugliest of the ox tribe. They are said to be sometimes mischievous, and are therefore not very pleasant companions in a solitary walk; but though they frequently approached to stare at me, they always dispersed before I came very near them.
1826.