A pedestrian tour through France and Italy

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600007814Q

6 6 6'.

881

Bodleian Libr.irv Oxford

THE

PHILOSOPHICAL RAMBLER.

r.O N 1»<)N:
S. M<>\m, f A'TIR STUM r, I t-tr I'jrFH nyl^HB

PEDESTRIAN TOUR

THROUGH

FRANCE AND ITALY.

«WiMMWiAPMMIM«lAr«MW«W«*

BY

G. HUME WEATHERHEAD, M.D.

tfVWMW^AttMWVWMApAMWitr*^

LONDON:

SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL,
stationers' hall court.

1834.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Author having now affixed his name to this work, it might
perhaps be expected that he would alter the Preface ; but this he
has not deemed necessary. The only further remark he is desirous
of making is, that as a part of the secret policy of the heads of
the Church of Rome in this countryy is to beset the periodical press
with persons of its own persuasion, in order, by this insidious
means, to control, if not govern, it as much as they possibly can ;
and as the Author has not hesitated to give an exposition of the
present state of the idolatry of this church in his work, he cannot
expect much favour from quarters open to such influence.

PREFACE.

A " Rambler^'' who had akready made the circuit of
the globe in search of knowledge, and to gratify his
own adventiirou9 curiosity, started from England on
a Pedestrian Tour through France and Italy; and,
fitting himself with a beseeming knapsack at Dieppe,
proceeded to Paris, and thence to the south of
France, to view the ancient ruins and other beautifrd
objects of art and nature which abound in Provence
and part of Languedoc. He then entered Italy by
way of Nice, and visited in succession all the prin-
cipal cities, their palaces, galleries, and churches;
and although the route be a beaten track, yet the
Author has endeavoured to treat it after an untrodden
manner.

In this Tour the reader will find, among other
things, some interesting descriptions and histories
of the antique remains of Italy — accounts of the
topography with regard to health, and the volcanic
geology of the country he passes through — of pil-
grimages to holy shrines — of excursions to view
the curious, the beautifiil, and picturesque — of his
adventures on the road, and of his reflections and
sentiments suggested by the scenes and objects
which presented themselves as he trudged along his
solitary route.

I

VI PREFACE.

Ample and accurate catalogues of the Paintings
and Statuary, taken down from the lips of the
custodi of the different palaces, &c., will be found at
the end of the volume.

But before reading a book, people generally are
ciurious to know something of the author, and are
more inquisitive still if the writer be anonymous.
Then, gentle reader, to use the propitiatory address
of our good old ancestors, to enable you to form smne
notion of him, take the following brief description.

Have you ever met any one in your travels abroad
trudging pensively, inoffensively, and quietly along,
as if the world was large enough for him and every
body else besides, dressed in a shooting-jacket, short
knee-breeches and gaiters — not, by the way, that
he ever meant to shoot, but merely put them on as
certain dandies do spurs who never mount the out-
side of a horse — to seem what he was not; with a
hlouae over-all to keep off the dust ; a knapsack on
his back, containing his '' twa sarks ;" a staff in his
hand to help him along on his pilgrimage ; and a few
Naps in his girdle to " pay the piper?** — if so, that
was the identical man Ego!

Now, in ray knapsack, gentle reader, you must
know, were a couple of clean shirts, as I have said,
a few pair of hosen, affairs of the toilette, and pens,
ink, and paper. Perhaps 1 shall be excused from
giving any very particular description of certain of
the contents of my knapsack. The shirts were of
stout Irish — the stockings without holes (at starting)
— the razors, not unlike certain wise saws, i. e. the

PREFACE. VU

witty edge worn off by too repeated use — as for
the pens, ink, and paper, they must speak for them-
selves* My wish has been, in drawing up from
my notes the following observations into form, to
entice the reader to be my fellow-traveller; to pick
out the softest path for him as he marches along,
culling the sweetest flowers by the way-side, to pre-
vent his being wearied, and endeavouring to make
him partake of all my pleasures and gratifications,
without sharing in any of my hardships, fatigues,
dangers, or privations. If I have succeeded— ^ if the
perusal of these travels shall afford pastime for an
idle hour, when nothing better is in his way, then
my wish and ambition are attained; therefore, let
him scan the deficiencies he may find with a school-
boy's heedlessness, and forget them with more than
even his forgetfuhiess.

P.S. — Travellers are often grossly deceived by
an account of paintings being of the finest class,
which the intelligent connoisseur will at a glance
perceive to be copies made to fill up the places of
those which were sold and sent to England, during
the period the French army was in Italy. Let the
reader but look into Mr. Buchanan's Memoirs of
Painting, *id he will naturally ask, whence did all
those fine pictures come which are now on the walls
of the National Gallery, and those of the best private

'._..-. . . -^ ^ r ' 1 . . V ---->.. » ' . ~- . . . r .. L'tr

; :...^ .- ; , . . :: •. . , -^. v-- »^-t^ COn^'^li-

>._-.';. J. ^-«-.r:r-^r. n^i-^n.r ^- Mr. ->. --- ^k^..^; *.. * "-^

T- •.. ... ... - t

jTui^I--:. k. >vv-r;.; :::v'::::::^ .: .is ^::11 «::: the walls

of pi:'..:vs ^vh:::: :.:v ^v^;: k:;.'.v:: :: :.e ::: this coun-
trv: as Gu:d:> Ju ::th .i:;.: H:l::er::es. a::d h:s
Lucretia. froni t:.e >:u-.hi P.^hiC'.- at Fvrir.e: Rubens'
Juno fasteihng the Eyes •:: Ar^'v.s t -> ri:e Tail of her
Peacock, from the <»hi Dur:.zzj at Gcr.oa, cVc. The
Author in thi;> re^pcct lias i-tren as careful as pos-
sible, examining the cuhL^ctions personally, noting
tlie paintings down on the sput. and, in many in-
stances, describinjz not merdv the subjects, but the
manner of the artist iii treating them : for perhaps
lio inay venture without oHcnce to observe, that
the judgment of the traveller caimot be guided
exactiv bv notes of admiration alone.

THE

PHILOSOPHICAL RAMBLER.

Leayivo Piccadilly with four spirited horBes, which Phaeton
might have been proud to guide, I arrived at Brighton,
crossed the channel next day in a steamer, and here I am
at Dieppe.

DiBPPB. — Well! these French are queer people! They
give you salad to eat out of a wash-hand basin, and yon
wash your hands in a pie-dish. Do you call out *^ Tit, tit !
puss, puss ! " to a cat, they laugh, forsooth, because they do
it in a different way.

Dieppe is a cheerful, pretty little town, sunk in between
cliffs which shelter it from the winds ; and bordered seaward
by a beach spreading its sandy carpet to the water's edge,
as if derigned for the tumbling billows '^ to play at leap-frog
on." A suite of handsome baths, with billiard-rooms, and
a terraced promenade, is built within a conyenient distance
of the sea ; and a plot of greensward, bounded by low
ramparts, intervenes between the town and the shore. A
stranger to the manners of France cannot help noticing a
peculiarity characteristic of the people he is among, that is,
to see with what a semblance of dalliance the females throw
theniselves about in the arms of the bathers, who are all of

B

Vlll PKEFACK.

collections of this country ? The fact will the
obvious to him, and he can draw his own co
sions. It quite surprised me to see, on looking
the lists of paintings in the last edition of a po
guide-book, several mentioned as still on the
of palaces which are wx^ll known to be in this <
try ; as Guido's Judith and Holofernes, anc
Lucretia, from the Spada Palace at Rome ; Ri
Juno fastening the Eyes of Argus to the Tail c
Peacock, from the old Durazzo at Genoa, &c.
Author in this respect has been as careful as
sible, examining the collections personally, r
the paintings down on the spot, and, in mar
stances, describing not merely the subjects, bi
manner of the artist iii treating them ; for pc
he may venture without offence to observe,
the judgment of the traveller cannot be ^
exactly by notes of admiration alone.

;:vL a-vMBL^^-

2 i)ii:rri:.

I

I

thein iiion, exposed to the public gaze of the spectators.
[u(l(!e(l, their frolicsoineiiess, as they perform all kinds of
evolutions, is pt'i'fectly coiifoundiiiL^ to a bashful Eiiirlislnnan. I

The bather secius to Ix^ a sort of acpiatic fugleman, under
"vvhose mamuil exercise, females, no matter how young or fair, '

float, dive, and swim about, like verv mermaids. ^

[uw seaporl>, in mv opinion, are moi'e agreeably situated
for th(» quiet enjovmenl of the invalid to whom the bracing"
S(»a-breeze and sah-waler baths ar(^ remedial, than that of
Dieppe; for, whilst ther(» is every acconnnodation for the
latter ])urpose, lu^ may enjoy his |)i'omenade without having
his senses disi:u^(ed bv tin* usual tiUh of a fishimi'-town.

As mv pri^viously arranged plan of travelling was that
of a ])edestrinn toui', no sutlicient reason suggested itself why
I should not connnence. it at Dieppe : >o, having purchased *

myself a j)easMnl's /;Ay//.sr, and a >oldier's old knapsack,
[ mean to stin*t tliis jdleiMioon, like another Quixote, in
search of all sorts of jidventure'^, willi the rii:*ht knitrht-errant
I'csolution, if 1 ri\n kee]> to it, of afiVontini;* and defvins: all !

dangers, ])rivation, and fntigue; of seeiuLi; and hearing all
that can be seen nnd henrd ; and not to turn my steps home-
ward until I shall have I'eaclied Aaples.

*' llooly and fairly'' is a Scotch maxim, and, taking it
as mine, I walked no farther than Ponnnerval, a distance
of eighteen miles, where I stop[)ed for tlie night. As yet
nothing j)articular had occmred, except some f(?w ridiculous
inconveniences, which a pedestrian tourist nnist cheerfully
make u]) his mind to encount(u% nay, nnist ev(ui be ready to
enjoy. Something like this happened on the morning I left
l^)mmerval. Being desirous of having a basin of milk,
I rcipu'sted that it might l)e warnuHl, l>ut could see no proper
vessel for the purj)o>e. My obliging landlady, however,
soon rcilieved my conjectures about tlie (jnoinodoy by taking-
down the frying-pan, and, as the milk began to boil, she
carefully skinnned off the globules of grease that ro^e to the
surface in nndtitudes, like so nuiny playful ])orpoises. My
aj)petite, mduckily, was yet of a very prosaic turn : the tropes
and figures that danced so merrily about in the frying-pan

THE LEG OF MUTTON.

had spoilt my relish for the mess ; and as I had never feasted,
like Captain Lyon, at Spitzbergen, I was fain to sup my milk
as it came from the cow, without the zest of a metaphor.

Six post leagues from Pommerval I passed through Foi^es,
^here there is a mineral spring of some local repute ; and,
after rather a long day's march, I arrived at Goumay.

To observe men and manners being a main part of my
pursuit, I readily accepted an invitation to join the general
supper-table, in preference to supping sulkily alone. Mine
host I knew would be there — perhaps his bonne! So much
the better. Perhaps some of the servants ! Ay, to be sure ;
the more the merrier. Thank God ! I was never very fasti*
dious; and it gives a man a comfortable degree of non-
chalance when it depends on his own choice whether or not
he ever see his company again. We were all in high glee.
I thought the servant girl, at the bottom of the table, would
never have done pegging away at the loaf. Next to me there
sat a Frenchman who had been in England, and he amused
ns all by a story he told of a leg of mutton.

It seems, of all the good things that he had eaten in
England, none had pleased his palate so much as a leg of
mutton done at the baker's, environne, as he expressed it,
by a chevaux^e-frise of potatoes ; and wishing to introduce
so agreeable an acquaintance to his coimtrymen, he invited a
few of them one day to partake of it. It happened, as bad
luck would have it, to be a Sunday : they had forgotten to
send for it between church-time. The baker was inexorable.
What was to be done? To wait till service was over, and
eat it cold, was to spoil the promised feast : to keep it hot in
the oven was worse still, for then his &vourite dish would be
done to a rag ; so, rather than lose the leg of mutton, they
all adjourned, with great good humour, to the bake-house,
and ate it there!

The story was too feasible not to be true; and, after
finishing our laugh — and no one laughed louder or more
heartily than the narrator himself — I bade my company
good night.

Daylight next morning saw me on the march. Nothing

1 PARIS THF. STRKKTS.

worthy of notice presented itself until I came to the pretty
vaHev of (iisors, wlieiT, >onie s^even hundred years a^ro,
Kin<'- Phih'n of I'raiiee and liiehai'd Ca'ur de Lion encani))ed
their ehivah'ous hands hcfoi't? drpartini;' on the third crusade.
** Ki nfh'tlo iiiliil fit^' is an old aihiiie. Now, as tlie route
l)(:t\veen tliis and l^iri^ oH'crs Htlle desei'vin^x of remark,
I sliall not venture to imitate the inimitahh^s, in making a
lontc storv ahout nothing at all, unless, indeed, it shall here-
after he demanded unanimously at a call of the whole
HorsE.

PARIS.

Settled in my hotel, I hegan to consider of my vocation
and aujusement ; and, without losing time in long and duhious
delihei'ations, dchating with myscdf whether 1 should first visit
tin; eataconiJH or tlie theatres, the ( //r//y//y.v Khfsccs or the
l^dndrinoii'ui ol' the Palais Roval, 1 sallied out, — '^ Let me jro
and see the sights in tin; streets of Paris," said 1.

Why, the very name-s of the ^t^ee.ts are sometimes singular
enongli. Vou liave the Rue i\i^> IJons-h^idans, des Mauvais
Garcons, and, as a conse([uenc(% des Mauvaises Paroles;
Rue P-t du Diahle, line Lavande ; \\\w. Picpie-puce, Rue
(h» Delices ; Rue Paradib and Rue d'i'^nter. I'.veu the signs
will anm>(i a sti*anger: over a hi*andy-shop, for exam])l.e,
you read * an Saint lvsi)rit;' a milliner, a^ain, invites you
' a la Diane.' Indeed, epigraj)hs like these sometimes iiive
occasion to little laughahle waggeries. A ])olisson one day
seeing * a la \'ierge' written ov(m* the shop of one of these
inaicli(iii(hs dc //ioflrsj opened the door, and gi'avely impiired
of one of the vestals at work, if' the \irgin' was at home.
*' (^et out, you im]>erent feller, you," <juoth the girl, (piite
insulted hy the cpiestion ; '^ t/fcre fire tut ri/f/i/ts /arc!'* Vour
sentimentality is next assailed hy * a la Mere dii Famille,'
your parsimony hy ' an Petit (rain,' yonr vii'tue hy ' la l*ille
jNhd-gardee,' and your patriotism hy * la i^elle Antrlaise/
Not unfrequently you see written on a perrurpiier's window-
shutter * lei Ton rajeunit:' I should he apprehensive that a
fellow so accustomed to the use of a razor mii^ht hethink

PARIS vkKE LA CHAISE. 5

himself of Medea's renovator — a warm bath of blood. But
of all the industrious tradesmen in Paris, none seem to
go about their business more comfortably and becomingly
than the street-b^gars. Passing along the Boulevard Italien
the other evening, the sound of lamentation struck my ear,
and on turning aside, I perceived, shocking to relate, a b^gar
on his knees with two lighted candles before him ; and lest he
should dirt his velveteen breeches, or excoriate his dehcate
shins, he had taken especial care to kneel on a tabouret of
wicker, with a nice, thick, downy, fluffy piece of carpeting
spread over it! — and the pauvre miserable was right. A
man may kneel on the cold, bare flags of a church whilst
he begs of Heaven his daily bread ; but surely it may be
permitted to ask * charite, pour Tamour de Dieu,' with more
r^ard for one's marrow-bones, of a mortal. Two of my
particular acquaintances, mendicants here, keep their car-
riages, vehicles on four wheels, drawn by a pony. The
pauvre miserable sits inside at his ease, before an organ,
and, trundling round the handles, you may have Malbrook,
an air from the last new opera, or any other rage of the day,
and all for a sou. But as craving your bounty himself would
be mightily infra dig, for one who drove his own carriage,
this pauvre miserable generally keeps two footmen in the
literal sense, stout, lusty Stentors, neither lame nor blind,
who walk by the side of the carriage, and solicit your bounty
en prince. Well, there is nothing like taking things easily
in this charitable world ; and if the fortune of Belisarius ever
be mine, Fate ! shave my head, and make me a capuchin,
or set me up a carriage, and pass me on to Paris !

P£rb la Chaise. — There are certain humours that fell
at times over the mind like the damp shade of night, and
envelop it in the mantle of solitary meditation, when man
spontaneously shuns the converse of his kind, and seeks
scenes which correspond with the sombre turn of his thoughts
and feelings.

The morning was windy and autumnal, the fallen leaves
rustled and flew about in the avenues of the garden of the

>l:.^i t'.'v r^'.. '..; "••-..- :f -" -: - .:. :...J veiled the liirlit of
1. >^ ^\^ '•..(.. • : . -.:. .': :: . : j: v. :',{. In siicli a mood,
:.: J \\::.i - .v". ^ •- .■..:■. > -. .' ..:/. I :• ilo, or >yliere £ro ?

t —

>.i\i 1 iv^ r..\-/... .> i ?-..::.'.. :"v -. .. •::. \. killer like the blue-
i!t \ ;.v i\ :-.>;■. '. i\^ ! .-. o. :..::..'. -. to vent mv humour
iiiiioi ■.; >kr." - i.-..,l j:\ ^'--"■.^•- — .r : :^ Pu'e la Cliaise, where
iu\ rr\i\i .1 /:,vl l>:!t!"- :..."...: . :' i.. :.',1 w"!! r:iid food equally
al'ir.uiar.i :'.:.vl ev-: _ . i. ..'. :.^ _'.'.:: :'- v.. :-]>:d appetite? The
>aiu'!\ v't"r.:e :'i:^-: ilw . \ \ :..i .:. .r.v.-:r cf the eeuieton'.

'liie ri'.'vkr \\".l:/'- > :.v>l.:c :!.: : ::A tiie burial-places of
r.n i^ ;^!\' oii:'>v"v" (( :'.:c l:.vv[-:v<. :.:>.r tke manner of the
hiu-iviif C«ur'u> ; :.vl Iv.v.'..:.-, ^ '..■> r':'ii::iud no one to be
iiihrii'il ui'.hiu \\\c ^\;l■l^ ci :\a\v e-::t>.\M:h almost the sinsrl^
r\v-i-[>iion o[ tiie ruijH'!\^r li';v.i. v.-.:o-e allies slept in the
iiinUi ,.r ilu" eitpiMl of ii.e N\^:ki. \\/M of Prre la Chaise
iM flo t' l)v ilu' Iku! iCre irAir.i^;i\ : it i? tiiulv -ituated on the

• • •

l»ro\\ of ;iii rniiiuiu't\ ar.d bv i:> ^.u• and tlie ineciualitv of
I In* ijtmihl, i( prr'-rn;> iv^ u\c \'.r\\ [\ romantic variety of
.•-fciu'. (^11 riitci-iiiL: ilie jlnee u:u:\^ ilio ^^ ickod cease from
lrttiil'liii':\ a Ioi'Hiil:- v»r >^plemiii:\ <u:'i'> ovi r tlie mind, for the
ilr.id li:i\r al\\.i\*> 1 erii ilie oly-ei- oi' niiuious veneration:
VMM I In- uh^-i loloi'iuii nliLilon d»H-i nut nadily pardon the
pittlaiialiiui ol'ihf m'a\o; a.nd the ::reatei" llu^ personal atHictioil
of llio h\iiii:, lh(* more fii'sldly ^anetiiied is lii^ uisli for the
impi'oi'aiird pfaeorninr^*^ of the tomh. lleie it is that we
r('spr<*l llio Mi-aM' of our hii(ero->l eiuaiiv : him whom in life
u<' uould ha\(' Iroddon nndor our foot, had it been in our
powri', now I hat it is, \\v \\'i\« hv tlie ur^i^s-elad inheritance
<»f iiKHtalilv, nllei'in<j; .some >liort >entence of forixiveness.
Ihil if v.(; can iind so nnieh eliarity towards the undeservina*.
M hal arti oiir fielin^s when ihe L;roedy nuiw of Death engulfs
aU'eclions, virlues, and all those exalted (pialities which attach
MS to lil'c .' The ol)li<j,ations of societv are numerous, and
ofh'u hurdensom(! : the; Ijonds of friendship and aifection,
again, are dear to the heart, and comparatively iew, and we
cainiot s[)are them to the grave.

hidulging in such reflections, mv train of thought was

PARIS pilRE LA CHAISE. 7

often interrupted by an epitaph or tombstone, varied by the
sentiment which the one or the other excited. Epitaphs,,
when sincere, like every thing else that flows spontaneously
from the heart, are always well expressed ; but too often they
are mere cold fac-similes of real feeling, which serve only to
expose the vanity or hypocrisy of the fictitious mourner.
Flattery to the living ear is proffered, for the most part, with
some appearance of modesty ; but among the dead, adulation
installs itself with the most fulsome and unblushing efirontery.
In proof of this, enter but a churchyard, and there is scarce a
stone you meet, pressing on the now no longer pulsating
breast, that does not groan under the weight of five or six
cardinal virtues ! Who can help smiling as he reads, ^' Here
lies John Dough, baker, the child of genius?" or a barber,
*' a friend to truth?" and yet these do not exceed the reality.

Over the grave of a Madame R , for example, who died

a little before the Restoration, after her fourth divorce, is
inscribed,

'* ICI REPOSE LE MODELE DE LA FIDELITE CON JUG ALE.*'

Some epitaphs, again, are inscribed to the gratification of
the most undisguised vanity, by those whose sole object, in
affecting to consecrate an epitaph to the memory of their re-
lations, is to tell the world who they themselves are. Take
the following as a specimen :

" Ci-GiT Marie B— ,

I^xnue de F. C.de K — , Due de V,, Marechal tfj^npire, Senateur,
Membre du Grand Conseily Grand Officier de la Legion
d*Honneur, Grand Croix de VOrdre Royal de Wurtemhergy
Grand Croix de VOrdre de la FidiliU de Bade;* 4-c. 4-c. ^c.

How different from this is the simple tribute of unaffected
sorrow expressed in the following words, on a plain, neat
monumental column, near this lord and master of half the
dignities of Europe !

" LA EST TOUT CE QUE j'aIME."

Another of this latter description is the following, which
I shall transcribe, without apolc^ising for its length, for the

4 .^

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evti) liio 111 -•
T,r .'."ciiiatiuii ii,
(,f the livii.u. ■
HiiproiaiKMl I
ye:?p^-Ct the 1
^ve would L ■
po\v^-r, now
^,( inorta]ii\ .
Jjiit ii'^^^G cjt
^Yliiit are our
J, flections vli

lis to li^t"-

caiiiiot MIMuc t
Iijdiilunn- I

-i«r

PARIS vkKE LA CHAISE. 9

goished. Strolling thus from tombstone to tombstone, I by
chance came to a new-made grave. Behold ! thought I, the
vast inheritance of ambitious^ craving, never-satisfied mor-
tality ! I measured in my mind's eye its width and depth,
and thought it scanty enough : I graduated in my imagina-
tion its mean degree of cold, and involuntarily shuddered :
I figured to myself the crawling companions that, like vile
parasites, feed on their patron — and thought of '' the land
we live in." Pondering in this guise, I sat me down on the
mould which was heaped up on one side, resting my head on
my left elbow, and soon became absorbed in a deep reverie.
Near me there lay a skull : a few grey hairs still adhered to
the hinder part of the scalp, and the lower jaw clung fast to
its articulation. The orbits were now void of all expression
save the vacant and horrid stare of death : a sudden chill ran
through my veins, and a cataract of tears tumbled over my
eye-lids, as I gazed on what had formerly beamed perhaps
with every kindly feeling, and shone with animation, intelli-
gence, and delight. The teeth were broken, irregular, and
displaced, and the jaws were put to their utmost stretch by
a round clod of earth, a sort of natural ^' pomme de terre,"
as it were, which conveyed the revolting idea of choking,
speechless suffocation. 'Tis the hungry potato-trap of
some poor Irishman^ thought I^ who hath died from starva-
tion; or else the loquacious maw of a noisy, talkative
attorney, gagged as a precaution by his brother-tenants of
the silent tomb.

Surrounded by such objects, I became absorbed, as I said,
in a profound reverie, pondering over the vanity and nothing-
ness of all worldly ambition, the scanty patrimony of the
grave, the disappointments of hope — which, like your sha-
dow, never leaves you, and yet, like the horizon, you never
can overtake — the fickleness of friendship, the evanescence
of love, the villany and ingratitude of mankind, and all
those blue-devil reflections which nourish and foment the
ennui of the moment, when the voice of mourning suddenly
broke on my ear, and dissolved at once in a tear-drop this
world of wrathful feeling. On casting up my eyes, I found

10 I'AKIS— I'I'.Ki: LA (HAlSi:.

I }j:hI l»t( n innrh ci'lriilly t r('^|)a^>u)i;* Oil the private sorrows
'*!.•> \'>i]n" i( iiiiilc, wlio \v:is kiHM'linij; he^torc a little column
'/) "•. Iiih: ni:iri)l«-, Mii"iii(>iinl( (I )»v ;i ciiicrarv urn; but, too
♦I'mJv aUorhcd in inr own inclaiU'liolv tliouulits, i-lie did
h<>\ j/«i(«i\r luf. 'i he ImiIv held iu licr hand a bouquet of
ll'.v.ii , ulilcli -lir strewed on a little '•rave: lier eves were
n<\ Willi w lepiir/, her l»r('a>t labouri;d with agonisinii: sobs;
jiji'l a- In- ro-r I'lom bciorc the coltmni to tear herself awav,
I l)<:ii'l Iki' miirniui" " ./r //'// siirrlri'd't j)((s !'^ Curiosity
<Im',v me to tlie ^|M)i she. had ([uitted : it was the grave of
a el/ilil, four vtar> ol' a'^c, who<e disconsolate mother had
eome to \i ii the sad nionunient whicli entombed her af-
U<-\\'>i\ ' \ ami the immjtei* of laded llowers and ixarlands that
derl.i-d ilir ;i:i\r attested the depth and constancy of her
a lllal I'ai.

On a eert.i'm davoflhe year tlie l^arisians <xo in multi-
liide-, to \l-it the lomhs ol' lh<'ii' deceased relatives, aud dcck
tin ir »'ra\es wltii tVe^h 'garlands — a pi-actice also among the
anei( nt Komaii^ on tlie Testis al caHed I'eralia, or Feast of the
(dio-t-; lieiicr the. words ol" 'lHailius { ill), ii. el. 4) :

*' Aiiiiii.i (oiisliiK l<» ^( rt;i (I.ilnl luiiiulo."

l*rop<itiii- alludes to the same custom :

" ■ I 1 li (pir .s<iniU hmiil

And tlie heaiiiirid lines of \ ii't^il shew what use they

made ol llowei - :

" 'ill M;ir« ( Ihis r.is. Ahuiilnis (lull; lilia pli'iiis:
I'lUjMll* (IS '•|J,il;.iim Jioio ."

It was IVom I.Liypt tliat the Christians borrowed the
cu>toMi of emhalnun;j; tin; ch-ad, and surrounding the tomb
with Dowers. 'J he new-blown j'o^e, the syuibol of nascent
life, was lor a h»n^ time consecrated to the dead, ** Vivis
josa grata, ei grata sepuhdiris." To this they added tlie
laurel, the enjblem of eti^rnal life, a branch of which they
Used to haiiii' over the door of tin? dyin'r; and the ever<':reens,
the ivy, the \ew, and arbor vita' {i.e. aterna'), arc still the
usual ornaujcnt'^ of our l'jii;li>h chiircdivards.

PARIS P&RE LA CHAISE. 11

Some there are who have had strength of mind enough
to mark out beforehand the place of their sepulture^ over
which they erect a cenotaph to themselves while alive. Such
a practice renders us familiar with the idea of death ; and
perhaps no more constant memento could be devised to keep
us in mind of the insignificance of every thing that panders
to human vanity. The emperors of Constantinople were
wont to be reminded of death in the midst of the pomp and
pe^eantry of their coronation, during which ceremony the
magistrates were accustomed to present different sorts of
stone to their sovereign, requesting him to choose which of
them he would have for his tombstone. The idea was
sublime and philosophic, conveying a hint of the nothing-
ness which awaits the utmost worldly grandeur, at a time
and ceremony when the mind was most likely to forget it.
An anecdote is told of a certain Parisian, who caused an
elegant family vault to be made and enclosed by a gilt
railing : he had it decorated with the family arms and other
devices, together with the names of all the individuals of his
family inscribed on it in letters of gold. When the mauso-
leum was finished, he one day proposed a party of pleasure,
and appointed the cemetery of Pere la Chaise as the place of
general rendezvous. Judge of the surprise of the party on
perceiving, on one of the most elevated spots in the garden,
a tomb all ready to receive them. Next day the chef de la
famille sent each of them a carte dC entree^ with the number
of the niche which was reserved for him !

Continuing my walk, my feelings were somewhat differ-
ently affected from heretofore, by reading on the tomb of a
young unmarried female the following singular Equivoque :

« VOUEE AU CELIBAT, ELLE n'eN VECU PAS MOINS EN MERe!"

Not far from this you will find inscribed on an empty
vase —

^ II at PLEiN det larntei de V attachment et dela recorniaitsfmcel^'

Was it grief that dictated on the tomb of J. G. Char-
cutier, that he had dwelled Rue St. Denis, No. 27 ? This

12 PARIS JlIE LOl \ Jii:.

man lui>, no ilouht, left a widow, thought I, ^^llo >lill carries
on the l)ii-in«'>s — imffi'/.-c, </ dnrd, a im^ ,\

I sjjould pruliaMv lia\e IkIu'vcJ \ . S. . . . tlmt iie was
eternally ineon-oiaMe at luninu' lo^t his ludoved wile, had
lie not said the same thiuLi,- of one he had left onlv seven
months before at Montniai'ti'e : nav, the >torv t:oe>, that this
diseonsohue luishand i< ahoiu to take a third fail* dauiihter
of I'^ve to hi> l)()soni, who may, [)ere]ianee, lea\e liini oiiee
moi'e in everla^-tiiii;' des])air ! ^\ ell I for a thoi'oui:']i, >haine-
h^ss, thiek-set |)iece of iii>ii;e* riiv, U'eoinituiid n:e to a
churchyard I

(.)n n^irardinu" the >kv, 1 was i^lad to in.'reei\e the clieei'iiJLi'
countenance of the ^un jiLiain. \\\ this time 1 found I liail
expectorated all inv ill-humoui\ and, le-t 1 -dioidd aL^ain Liet
cliop-fallen, I rcturmd furth^^ith t) (JriLinon's, to dine on
iMaintenon cutlets and a hottle of lKrmirai:e.

TiTE LorvKE. — To-dav 1 strolled into the lower uallerv
of the l.ouvre, to prate away an hour ^ith the statins in
their own manner: now to Iioh or noh with old >ih'nu>, or
converse Mitli mv iin^•ers in hici'Oi:lv])hic i;ui>e \\\\\\ I^i> and
Osii'i< ; now to draw oti' my atrahiliou*- humour into the tub
of JJioj^enes, or lauL;h with Democriius ut uhat makes evei'y
one else weep.

IfiiJJ of fifc ( \irj/(f fides. — On enterini; thi< >plendidly
peopled saloon, and turninix to the ri^ht, vou come to a h'j.uie
Avhicli arrests attention l>v the corrcctno^ of its anatcunv,
joined to incom})arahle ea>-i; of ]>osition and manlv eleirance
of form. It is a statue of Silknis'^' nur-ini;- the inlimt

* Tlif f:uill!<>s air<ilniny (if tliis figure i> most coii-vJmcuoun whiu Muwcd
from l)clini<l. M:irk the hhi/is nuisclc ;is it stt.iN from uikJiv iIjc po^uiior
r(l-«' of lilt' dtltind- -{\\i: (.oiiLtl oulliiic of tlie sciq-ula — the sucll of llic
<:lii(ii— lliL' tcn(l(ji) of tlio lic( /-^ jh un i/in^, iii.d iliv inliiiiraM'- lorni of llie
nas/nxfii iiiii fiuiii their onum dowiiwaidv. In f.,ct, iliis sl.iun' cxiiil its the
\\\\v>\ inuN( ulir display I j\cr ^,i\\\ ami iiia_\ ]u^d\ l.i- rcfciicd to a< a s-d'i-
linn of llir doul)tlid and disj.tittd j»oinl, win llnr A/////C/;/ aiiatoinv was c\ «r
jtr.Ktixd lt\ IIk; aiKi«nls.

PARIS THE LOUVRE. 13

Bacchas : not the bloated figure and besotted countenance of
the Falstaff of antiquity, but Silenus before deformed by
crapulent intemperance^ with his infantine and, as yet, un-
debauched, god and master nestling in his arms. Still con-
tinuing onwards, cast a glance on the Empress Plotina.
In her the chisel of the sculptor has embodied the idea of
a Roman matron of the days of Home's noblest and most
exalted patriotism. The general contour of this statue dis-
plays a form masculine, yet dignified ; her countenance, great
strength of mind ; and her demeanour, calm yet unalterable
resolution.

As you advance, you involuntarily halt before the statue
of Marcus Aurelius. Life itself could not express more
commanding majesty, and the master of the Roman universe
stands confessed both in attitude and feature'.

No. 689 is the statue of Livia as the muse Euterpe. In
her right hand she holds a tibia, indicative of her assumed
character. Symmetry of proportion, enchanting sweetness
and beauty of expression, drapery exceeding in lightness and
delicacy the web of Arachne, and cast with the utmost
chastity of taste, voluntarily enslave the delighted eye in
beholding a form of such perfect excellence.

No. 659 is a semi-colossal statue of Bacchus inebriated.
A wreath of vine-leaves encircles his temples ; in his right
hand he holds a bunch of grapes, whilst he points, as he
speaks, with the forefinger of his left. Mark the unsteady,
sta^^ring gait of the drunkard, as every vacillating muscle
strives to counteract the grovelling tendency of inebriation ;
the bloated inelegance of his shape, the babbling expression
of his mouth, the dull and stupid glare of his eye, and
the twitching that plays about his lips as he seems to talk
the incessant, inarticulate talk of drunkenness, recapitu-
lating merely the same nonsense he had been repeating a
hundred times before. Here you see no caricatured grimace
— no extravagant distortion of feature ; but the artist has
cauffht the nicer, though not less distinctive, characters of in-
toncation, with a fidelity which nothing but guilty, hiccuping
experience can fully appreciate.

14 v\n\si — Tin: louvri:.

No. (>84 is a somi-colossal statue of Alexander thk
Great. Unii'ovonial)!^ rv.p^j (lisnpi)ointnioiit, and dlsti'ac-
tion, contend one n!j.nin-t; nnotlior in cverv trnit of liiscoun-
tenancc, as if thwarted or fuiled in some ani]>iliun.s project.
The deep-indented furrow hi^tween his eye1)i*ows is forcibly
expressive^ of ven^'eance nnwrcakcd ; liis neck is swoHen,
C^oru'ed with blood, and coiIe<l, as it were, on itself, rc-
seniblinu:; the writliinu'S of an eni-aged vi}>er. The sculptor,
in the conception of this ferocious statue, nnist have ima-
gined Alexander in one of his unhap]>iest moods, when the
iiiairuaniniitv of tlie hero was merged in tlie unulutted furv
of the victor, as, with uplifted arm, he seem< to vow a vow
horrible enough to produce an (^aiMliqualvc. .Alexander tlie
Great would have hi^ statue made ]»v no oUmm- hand but
Lysippus. Is this ])y sueli a master ehi?el i

Among the terminal ]>usls in this liall whieli attra(;led my
attention most, wen^ tho<e of llippocrales, ilomer, Seneca,
and Diogenes. Instead of the mi^antln'opic sort of person-
age I (*xpected, I was surpri-ed to find ^o int(M'esling and
handsome a count(Miance in tlie cynic of Sinope. 'J'i)is
Hermes represents a man of middle age, with a fine cast of
features ; but vet there i*^ a certain projection about his
month and chin v»liieh convevs an ^* ofli rnhjus'' idea of
supercilious regardles>ne>s — contenmin<j; public opinion, its
applause or censure, and challenging tbe utmost malice of
fate, as superior to her most capricious vicis-itudes.

Bv a kind of association difhcult to account for, tlic
busts of these virtuous and venerable men are plac<'d among
two mischievous (Ju])ids ; and directly in front of them lies
tlie celebrated Borghese Insvs. Is this to try their philoso-
phic pretensions I if so, the sages look on with all the .sv/////-
fro'nl of genuine r'frtn.

Bv the side of, and on the chinmev-])iece, von see three
sepulchral urns from Marathon, and the mind s])ontaneo!isly
cliiiirs to the beli(^f that thev niav have containetl the ashes
of some of the inunortal heroes that fell on that distinguished
battle-field.

Before cpiittinix this mactnificent apartment, I may direct

PARIS — THE LOUVRE. 16

the trayeller's attention to a statue of the Wolf of Mars.
It is of porphyroid rosso ; and between the Caryatides are
two antique bronze vases, supported on beautiful columnar
pedestals of polished red granite.

Leaving this hall^ you re-enter an open corridor, in
which, as you advance, a statue of the goddess Minerva
merits attention. Ou her left arm she bears a shield ; In the
right hand an upright lance ; and in her countenance, amidst
much sweetness and beauty, is blended the dignified com-
posure of her characteristic attribute — wisdom.

Opposite to this, observe a very charming statue of a
priestess of Isis, with a cistrum in her hand : a Satyr
stands laughing by her side ; and not far off, a statue of that
obscene old sot, Silbnus.

The spectator is nest struck with the majestic look,
manly and robust form, and easy and natural attitude of a
statue, which grasps the hilt of a sword with the right hand,
whilst the left holds a scabbard. It is that of JuliuiS C^bsar.
His knit eyebrows indicate firmness of resolve and courage
that would rise in proportion as its efforts were discomfited.
This statue seems not merely to command others, but it
appears itself to lead the way, across the Rubicon.

Near to him who trod under foot the liberties of Rome,
stands one who continues to trample on the liberties of the
world : one who comes, at first, with laughing eye and
timid air, presenting to us sweets and flowers, and by de-
grees grown bold, mischievous, and perfidious, makes us
groan and weep. Who is it, need I ask, that by turns com-
mands, supplicates, rules, obeys ? Who by a look enslaves
mankind, and arms with boldness and address the trembling,
guileless heart ? Who seals with sleep the wakeful eyes of
Argus, or watches with the vigilance and patience of the
anaconda, when all the world beside are sunk in deepest
slumber ? Love ! the little urchin, Love ! His statue was
now before me ; but the creative chisel of the sculptor has
represented Cupid, not as the mere mischief-loving boy, but
the Cupid that was caught in his own snare — the youthful
lover of Psyche.

l(j I'VRis — THE i.orvur..

Anioiuj; the I^ltvj)!!!!]! inonmiunt^ there is a noble bust
of the Nile Pi:ix*>(>MnEn, of noi-phvritic granite. Ilis conn-
tenance i> venera])le, and liis loUL^-tlowing* beard falls on his
breast in nndulatiuL;- ft)l(ls, like the ripple on a mountain
streandet raist'd by tlie evcninu" bivc/.e.

Vou now come to a beaiitil'id niosaie ]>avenient, inlaid
with tlie rarest and nio^t varir::;it('d inarbk-s. It is edj^t^l
l.>v a (irecian border, tlie te'=stlatii>n> of whieh are arran'jed
with tine perspective etluet. \\ reatlis of oak-leav(S are at
the four corners : in the centre vou see \'ietorv in an anti(|ue
triumphal car, di'awn by four horses, and followed by two
female tiuures bcariuLi' thi^ euibh'ui^ of Peace and Al)undance.
( )n each side of the juirallelo^'ram are alleu'oj'ieal repre-
seiitatious ol' f )ur of the most celebi'ated ri\ei's of anti([uity.
(.)ne, tlu' Fo : remark the water as it rur^hes out of a jar,
how faithl'ully tlu' mosaic repres('nt> the Liie-hiuLi; str<nim.
Two swans sail proudly on the water, which, bv' the skilful
arran'j;t'nu!nts of the artist, um'onsclou>lv cause the eve to
follow the current, and, by linuei'inu' on the object, to in-
crease its eltect. Another is the .\ile, "vn ho re>ts on a
sphinx as a mark of appropi'iation. At his feet a ])yramid
lifts its iLi^raduallv taix.M'in'j; point to the skies, to denote the
pcrsonitication more distinctly. fn hi> left hand he holds a
paddle, indicative of bciuL:" navig'ablo ; and in his riuht, a
cornucoj)ia of Howers, symbolical of his frrtilirriuL;' course.
'J'he thli-d is the Ijiphrates; aial the fcurlh the Danube,
which last front> a siipeid) c(dossal -tatue of 3I]:rP(>Mi:Ni:.

'J'his is perhaj)s tin? most wondorful, as it uu(|U('-tional5ly
is the most mauuilicent statue in the whole collection, and,
thouLih colossal, its various ])r()portions an? so admiiablv
])reserved, that its maunitude almost esca])es ob-cj-xation.
C)bserve the drapery, how (ii-acefullv it is cast ; on the arms
it appears transparent. Her eve scu'ius to tlasli with pot^iic
fire, and her entire? fiu-ure is so nrjuiil and iuipo-lu«_r, that
you fain would beseocji the tragic nnise to descend from Jier
pedestal, and, fancying ShaksjK'ai'c as her auditor, to recite,

*' To be, or not" on the mosaic carpet at her feet, which

she would irrace, beautiful even as it is.

PARIS — THE LOUVRE. 17

Stoned, they say, have ears. The statue of Nemesis
proves they have more. Look at the lips of the goddess ;
you think she is about to speak, and as you draw near to
listen, you instinctively tread more gently. Pitiless stone!
why not for once yield up your obduracy? for gladly would
I know what a statue like this hath to say. You point to
your breast, as if the secret laboured there. Nemesis ! is it
to complain ? Where is the gallant Quixote, even among
these marbles, that would not leap from his pedestal and fly
to your succour ? Is it a secret confided to your keeping by
some frail sister of Olympus, which you bum to disclose ?
The wonder y in your case, fair lady, is then no anomaly —
the artist hath wisely petrified your tongue, and you cannot
do otherwise than keep it.

Near to this stands a statue of Providence, combining
all that is majestic, benignant, and bounteous. She holds a
globe in her left hand. A graceful tiara surmounts her still
more graceful forehead. In the casting of the drapery no
folds could be lighter or more elegant, and they clasp round
her beautiful form with the affectionate ardour of a lover.

On the opposite pedestal stands an equally fine statue of
Hope. A diadem of stars radiates round a countenance
beaming with all that is mild and beauteous. Hope looks
so serenely sweet, that she never could have been disap-
pointed — so confiding, as never to have been betrayed — and
so innocently credulous, as if the tongue of flattery had but
to tell its tale to be believed.

You now come to the statue of a female leaning on a
rock, and resting her head on her elbow. It is the Muse
Polyhymnia. A double coronet of flowers encircles her
temples, and her tresses are bound and displayed with in-
finite grace. When you can take your regards from a coun-
tenance so charming and beautiful, let them fall on her fair
and delicate form ; then behold shapes of the loveliest pro-
portions ; but pry not too curiously, stranger, for her vest-
ments are diaphanous.

No. 310. A superb semi-colossal statue of Pallas. A
helmet is on her head. Observe her countenance — how

IS p.\iu>— - M •.N\rR> NNP >f<y.rRS.

nol.U' htmI c:'O(lli^<0 I v.;-li L, r ri_!it arm •j:raret\illv extciidoil,
-li»; -r-u.'U in the a*t:tii<!r o[ -y. ;i\:ii_. What may we siir-
\i.i-i- '. Was it tliU- -lit' «_a\':' l^itt ami Fox, Caiiniiiir aiul
hroii_-]jain, a 1l''->]i: t'-r oulv ?ucli ctHiid l.>e the pupils of the

Tlie (M-!.:l.riirrJ -!;jnr' of tlio Fi'^iiriiij: Gladiator, pro-
-cntf 1 \>\' PriiiC!' IJtjruhr-'! to B».':iaparto, i- too wrll known
to r( <piii>.' (!♦•-(:! iprio::. Tiio others in this tiiio colloction
that -truck uil' more inirticiilarlv, I must harelv onunierate
(•;i,tal'''/ic;illv. No-. *J-53. .E-culapius — '234. Aiitinous as

Ihrcuh- S-j'). Ccros — '244. A charmiiiir Ikicchanto — 1251.

I'o'ii- l'aui!> a- (.'ai*viiti<lL'S — '2i?'K Mar- as \'ictor — '2G8. Eliiis
V'eni- — '27G. The Ihiiperor lladi-iaii — 281, A wounded
Ainazon - -2^2. The X'enis of Arlks — 2!^0. A noble statue
f>r a W oj--hij>pf;r a- the Mu-e Euterpe — and lastly, 249. A
ifeinnh«nt (•oh)^-;d -talue of the Til)er. The attitude is one
of icpo-c, |)hicid a.-5 the stream it is meant to represent.

Manm.ks and McKtHs. — Whatever thev may Lave been
ill foiuHi' d.'iy-, tlie* Ireneli, in my opinion, can no longer
ho,'i-t (»f any sujieriority in politeness of behaviour. One of
the thiii'^s thnt sti-ik<,'S an Enulishman on his first arrival
afiKiiit^ his Cialhc neii:hl>our>, is their coarse and l)oisteroiis
manner of cfjnver.-iiiij:. A stianiror to their lan'juaixe and
Msat:«-s is certain thev are (luariellin''' and a])OUt to fiixht,
and is ^hocdve(l jtnd surpri^e(l when he learns that this is
iheii- u>iial lone of convei'sation. In a lar^e company all
sjieak to;;(;ther, and it is who to speak loudest : no one cares
to listen ; you see no resixu'tful deference, while they in-
terrupt oik; another without the least regard to the connnoji
received rul(;«; of ordinary politeness. This to me, who love
to '* mov(5 all «j^ently," is particularly disaji,reeable ; and it
has ofton liajjjiened, that, after having' attem|)ted to hearken
natientlv lo what eacli, in Li'rcat 'jood nature, had to com-
municate — lor Johnny ('rnjxau, at l>oltom, has mucli plea-
sin::- aniialtility about him, Jilthowuh lie has got such a m»isy
way (»^rh(•^vin^' it- I li;i\v' bcv n ohlii^rd moie tliaii once to
rctii'r with a distiactiiej,- headaeli.

PARIS THE GUILLOTINE. 19

The French are usually accounted a lively people. I am
inclined to believe the events that happened during and sub-
sequent to the Revolution have essentially altered their na-
tional character. A spirit of discontent at present pervades
all classes : the soldier of foctune^ a character comprising more
or less directly the entire population of France, is discon-
tented — for fortune has ceased to favour the brave; the
efkigre is discontented — for it is impossible to indemnify
every one to his satisfaction , and years of exile and privation
have dissipated the gay humour of his youth \ while the re-
collection of mortifying reverses sours the retrospection of all.
** La gloire de nos armes " rests tarnished ; and every brave
spirit sighs, as he regards his rusty sword, for the oppor-
tunity to furbish its sullied lustre on the breast-plate of an
enemy. All that gave buoyancy to the spirits under a more
brilliant dynasty — hope, ambition, emulation, distinction —
is water-lo^edy and there is not a more grumbling, discon-
tented being than a modern Frenchman. How different is
this character from that of the times when Victory seemed to
cling to the wheels of their very hackney-coaches, so lavish
was she of her triumphs !

Ths Guillotine. — To-day an acquaintance called to
say, that a man was to be guillotined in the Place de Gr^ve.
Although averse to sights so revolting, curiosity prompted me
to accompany him. We squeezed our way though several
streets, thronged with men and women hurrying forward in
the same direction ; and on getting to the Place de Gr^ve, we
were fortunate enough to be solicited by a person, whose
house faced the guillotine, to take places at his windows.
A little bai^aining settled the price of our accommodation ;
and after mounting a narrow and dirty staircase to the
second floor, we had every reason to be satisfied with the
bonne foi of our host.

By this time the crowd had become immense, and filled
the entire of the square in front of the Hotel de Ville. As
in all other enormous aggregations, there is something grand
in the appearance of large assemblages of people ; soldiers

20 PARIS THE GUILLOTINE.

and genB-d'armes in their several uniforms — numbers of
females intermixed with the motley crowd, dressed with the
characteristic glare of French taste — the constant undulating
movement of such a mass of living power, that waved hither
and thither, to re-establish the continually varying equili-
brium, as the balance of pressure altered, — all combined to
form a scene impressive from its magnitude, and imposing
from the interest inseparable from the possible danger of some
unforeseen accident happening to power in motion when so
colossal and ungovernable. Association lent its aid to fill up
the picture. The sight of the guillotine, the invention of the
Revolution — the atrocious use to which it was put — ^the daring
perseverance and impetuosity of the multitude to approach as
near as they could to the edge of the scaffold, naturally brought
to mind those passed scenes of horror and crime, of which,
during the Revolution, this very spot was often the theatre.

The criminal whose fate had collected so many spectators
had been tried and convicted of the murder of two children
in the presence of their mother ; bribed to the horrid deed,
as the tenour of the examination would lead to the suspicion,
by one interested in their destruction. He was conveyed to
the place of execution from the condemned cell of the Con-
ciergerie in a common cart. An aged priest sat beside him.
Previous to getting out of the ckarette, the prisoner stood up
and cast a look on the instrument of decollation : before mount-
ing the ladder he again steadfastly regarded the guillotine. He
then ascended to the platform, with that collected demeanour
which a man of natural courage can command when hope
has ceased from flattering for ever. The executioner now
took off his surtout, which was merely buttoned across his
breast, for his arms were pinioned behind him. The unfor-
tunate man stept on a foot-board fixed at the end of an
upright stage, which, turning forward on a hinge, placed his
neck with his face downwards under the fatal knife ; and in
a moment, by touching or pulling something (for I was too
far off to see what), his head was severed from his body. I
distinctly heard the noise it made as it fell into a trough
placed to receive it ; the blood gushed in a torrrait from the

PARIS — THE REVOLUTION. 21

neck, and a momentary but universal shudder convulsed the
decollated trunk. Decapitation, otherwise, seems a speedy
manner of dying, and appeared, from the rapidity with
which the whole process of execution was performed, to
want that salutary effect on the feelings of the spectator,
which ought to form a main object of every public forfeiture
of life.

No sooner was the head separated, than the body was
gkot off the stage into a pannier (for the indecent manner
in which it was done will not allow me to use a more
reverent expression), by turning it on edge; and the head
was pitched out of the trough, by a man knocking it against
his knee.

The executioner picked up his spoils dejure — the crimi-
nal's casquette, surtout, &c. The pannier containing the
mangled body was put into the cart, which, without any
more ceremony, drove off, and the crowd immediately hurried
to disperse.

The Revolution. — ^The cause of the French Revolution
is mainly to be attributed to the blind security and obstinacy
of the government, in persisting in a system of outrageously
corrupt polity, instead of meeting the exigencies of the age ;
in not yielding, in short, to the necessary changes demanded
by the advanced and advancing progress of knowledge.
Whilst society is in its infancy, some degree of absolute rule
is perhaps both wholesome and requisite for its proper guid-
ance; but when the crude, unfermented mass of the popu-
lace gets the leaven of knowledge and inquiry mixed with it,
and has thoroughly begun to work, any attempt to stay the
progress of change towards the vinification of the intellect, is
in danger of producing an explosion. Allow but the effer-
vescence of the mental ferment to dissipate itself unheeded
and unchecked, and no accident can happen ; for its turbu-
lence is mere froth, which will quietly settle down, when
the dregs of ignorance will be found at the bottom, and the
spirit of intellect, where it ought to be — supernatant.

As you walk along, you not unfrequently come to streets

\:.:.: ^t-: _* . .: : >-.•-. ^„".:.^ :': t ••':.?: r.-rn <'«u5 times oftlic
Kt^ /...:..:, V ::. ::t : . .-. -f-:..-. ::..- v.";: •' r^aint '* stovxl.
tr.>.'t\. — ..f :...: • ...: yv ^» :^.:. ;.t, ice. Tlii^ circum-

^: I'LTiK f..~t '•;•.. .. >:•-• - :. r.-.-^v"-. :.. :: ::.:> ir.ui.iier ainoiiix

:: t rt>: . :.:..; :": "•- i.-'i^t:--. ::...:. . :. :::..::r:n^ t\>r Rue

F'.»"'»t ::...■..-: . :..: :»;•>•.. " ..f ...T^tv'it-a :^' the iieare?t

-^ ::.f.\.'^ ^. l-tN '.:.. :.:..: :.t' ^: '^ . :* :Lt'>t* tiuie?:. A
' r - •

1 ' t L-..''.. :••.". "^'^ --'>• ^- • ' ^ •'^ --*• •'-' :..>Li^':i t-f the dav,
* - -' , . . .

\.r.\7K:\'.\\ ;.:/.... K.N :. l.:.«t ::--: rr.:""': .: :':.e L:ly precursor

," ^ .' -i t \'» <• . :. '. - -^ '».-.''>. -.t ::.:.:. ».'f iiiufliii was
;»'■',.' '^ • s' \ '^^:- *••' " ^^^ .1.. 11. ,.:.::>." 'v^l.o Imd pro-
,i_, . : ; :^ - - -, i. , ' :_ ..i.i f. :'.-r , 1 u: .;> a sul'Stitute, he

l;aa I'.-i'.'..^ "• ■ -■ ••■•■ "■•-■•■ ■'-■■"• '•■"• --■•'<^- «^^''" a monkey
JniT;-.V: i:- o;. •.:.": ri v. ■.•.: -ur «":.:.:. ^^.■.^ "ri;:.!. - au <iu;re en
rnuiV:..- ar.a !\ :':.- i-.-^'-^ ■•> ^-.•, :.::.> :.. i.ro>erved the
„,:■,• iu --oi:-...!. ::.•.■•.::"■. i"^-^''- '-^ ^■-••"•••.-^ '-'^- l'^■'■^ona-e of
bis \vi-ll-kiK'"ii ?i_"-i- i

Boi.apane i.in.M:!". in :i.o t.v.I± of hi* -lory and power,
did not t-capo au .xva-ioi.al l.>>!i iV..m ^it"* oa-o'-nine taib.
as the follow inj: epiiirani eM-mi'i-.n..* : —

•* Tar iiTiO \\i\iV.T >:v'> t -'.■"0
One story more of the Revohition. The voiee of pro-
phecy hath loiiiT been silent, and yet soniethinir of its spirit
seems to have awoke when tlie followiiiLr '* pitite chanson-
nette" was written to ridicule the indiscriminate rage for
denunciation which prevailed during the hloody sway of
Marat, Dan ton, and Robespierre :—

A I R — Li s Tn m bit ur.s .
" Jo dt'nonce rAllemrii^ic,
Lc Portugal ct rivspagru',
Le M<:xique et la C'hampa<;iu?,
Ijc LimaRne et le Pcrou.

LUXEMBOURG — DAVID. 23

Je denonce ritalie,
L'Afrique, et la Barbarie,
L'ADgleterre, et la Russie,
Sans mime excepter Moscou ! "

Painting. — lu the attempt to giye some idea of a national
school of painting in any other country, criticism would find
itself at a loss where to begin to establish the character, or
whom to select as a general prototype ; but in France this
difficulty cannot be said to exist, since David, the acknow-
ledged master of their school, in offering many excellencies
worthy of imitation, has left defects behind which have
stamped a character on the French historical school of paint-
ing peculiarly its own. To illustrate my meaning, I shall
first notice his ** Oath of the Horatii" in the gallery of the
Luxembourg, in preference to his ** Leonidas," though more
admired by his countrymen, as being a less exceptionable
example of the artist's conception of composition and manner
of execution.

In the war between the Romans and Albans, the general
of the latter, as every reader knows, proposed to the king of
Rome to decide the fate of the war by a combat between
three warriors to be chosen on each side. The proposition was
accepted : Rome chose the Horatii, the Albans the Curatii ;
and, by a stratagem of the last of the Horatii, Rome
triumphed.

The three Horatii ask permission of their father to be
Rome's champions. He, transported with joy, exhorts his
sons to render themselves worthy of such honourable distinc-
tion, and makes them swear before him to conquer or die ;
and this is the interesting moment the artist has chosen to
depict. The three brothers -stand before their magnanimous
parent with arms outstretched, in the act of taking the oath,
while their mother and sisters appear plunged in the deepest
affliction.

. .The difference of expression in the countenances of the
three brothers is well conceived. One bold and resolute,
confiding in himself, exemplifies physical courage: another
evinces the enthusiastic eagerness of courage animated by

*J I I.rXI'MIVjrUG DAVID.

sriiliiiicut : the tliird expresses the su1<muii resolve of a strong
miiid iiii[>res^e(l with tile mauiiltuile of the ol)jeet to ])e con-
tested i\,r, but at the same time whh the steady determination
to attain it ur peri?h. This is well ; ])ut thei'e are faults :
tlie e.\j)ression in the father's countenance, in invokiiiji; the
'j^{){.\< to he propitious to the Cduse of Home, leaves somethin«j^
to wish fv)r~it is not enouirh ])repossessing, and we look for
more diiinitv in the father of the Iloratii. The ^rief of the
females, a^ain, is too Uiuiiotonous ; and tlierc is a harshness
of outline in the lower limhs of all tlie male figures, whicli
liives to them the dry ap})earanee of ^tatuarY. Tlic drapery,
oji the other hand, is ca-t with great simplicity, and tlie
colouring- is varitnl in hrautiful contract : the anatimiy is
faultless, the ])tM>[)('etive excillent, and the relief given to
the ilLLures extremelv well mana^-ed. The 1)ackirround is, as
it ought to hi?, simph' and chaslc, and fornjs a foil, without
di-au ing the eye from the scene, oi* drowning it in the depths
of shade, or dazzlini;- it 1)V a too varied biilliancy.

Another painting of David's, nnich more defective, he-
cause re<piiring more genius than this artist possessed to treat
it well ; aljoundin^ in detached beauties, and vet no unison
among the wliole ; evincing a want of general comprehension
( f plan, and, nevertheless, manv of the perfections of the
m(!re arti.\t ; exemplifying, in short, what a man of no real
elevation of m:nd may attempt, who is master of the mere
mechanical j)arts of his art, — tlie Battle between tlie Sabines
and Romans, is as monstrously varied in its details as the
(Miimera. How has the artist conceived the person of
Ivomulus — the suckling of a wolf, bred up in a forest, the
foundcj- of n.iirhtv Rome? Wluit does it rei;iesent? — the
warrioj- — the conqueror ? No; but a j'c/ft nudtn' just lifted
out of his band-box, straddling gracefully asunder his two
leirs, bearinic a shield on his left arm, and brandishintx aloft
a spear with a look as terriHc as if ho were al)out to transfix
a tly ! Viewed as a delineation of youthful beauty merely,
no one can well deny its merit — it is designed without a
fault, and painted with c(pial skill ; but as the personage
meant to be represented, it is out of all character. Romulus's

LUXEMBOURG — DAVID. 26

antagonist, again, has bone and muscle clumsy enough for
Coleman's ** Man of Limbs;" and yet he does not seem
'' doubled up for mischief." As for the designing of the figure,
it is harshness personified. But let us shift the eye to some-
thing more pleasing. And, first, what can be more charming
than the upper part of the figure who interposes between
these doughty combatants, as a mediator? She beseeches
with such sweet distress; she exposes herself with so much
endearing devotedness ! But cast not your regards below the
cincture, else the beauty of the illusion vanishes. Next
view an object still more beautiful, because more perfect;
I mean the female on her knees imploring pity for as charm-
ing a group of little urchins as Albani ever painted, or
Flamingo diiselled into life. Nature, art, innocence, and
beauty, all struggle for observance ; and savage must be the
heart of him that would trample even on the garment of
the delighted and delightful litde innocent that lies sucking
its finger among the feet of the combatants, wholly uncon-
scious of its danger. Two horses to the right are master*
pieces of life, and very different from those convulsed animals
which the Vemets depict dancing to St. Vitus.

Among the horrors intended for the pathetic, unless it be
the infant that cries so lustily as upheld by its mother, all
else is ludicrous. The wrinkled old dame exposing her
bosom, while no one attends to her supplication, *^ to ease her
of her pain," looks as if she knew no violation would be
attempted on her sacred charms. As for the damsel standing
on the capital of a column, were she elsewhere, you would
imagine she was calling '* Fresh mackerel!" instead of aught
else, she bellows out so lustily.

In fine, this painting, with all its beauties, has so many
defects; the general plot of the drama is so unconnected;
the dramatis personw so incongruously cast, that you search
in vain for that in which a comprehensive genius would
most have shone ^ a grandeur and unity of conception of
the whole.

As for his Leonidas, it is not worth going into its details,
for it is still more strongly illustrative of the poverty of his

26 LUXEMBOURG — DAVID.

genius aA a composer, and of all the faults most prominent
in the last we noticed — harsh outline, false sentimentality,
no meaning in the expression, no sense in the action, no
unity in the combination; yet excellent for its perspective,
and delightful from the general harmony of its tone of
oolonring.

David, in my opinion, mistook his talent. Nature in-
tended him for a sculjptor and portrait, not historical, painter.
The latter character he has undeniably established in his
fine portrait of Pope Pius VII. It is admitted, I believe,
that this painting possesses the principal requisite of a por-
trait, that of being a perfect likeness. The countenance
expresses life itself; sedate, learned, pious, and benevolent,
characters which eminently distinguished this worthy pontiff.
The drapery is cast with grand simplicity and admirable
skill. The hands, parts which an inferior artist commonly
fails in, or neglects, are finished with the greatest care;
the tone of colouring is chaste and becoming ; and the whole
possesses the relief of statuary, with all the warmth and
reality of life. In a word, it is a portrait, in my judgment,
which, had David painted nothing else, would alone have
sufficed to have handed down his name to posterity as a
great artist.

David's faults are attributable, in some degree, to the
peculiar character of the times in which he flourished*
During, and after the Revolution, every sort of novelty and
monstrosity was the prevailing taste of the day. The ancient
masters of Italy were neglected, if not despised ; and nothing
but the pristine models of republican Greece and Rome were
deemed worthy of imitation. This affected taste introduced
the stiffness of statuary into all their designs. Studies from
the antique became their models; stories from the same
source were taken for their subjects; and every rule and
practice was outraged by the meretricious desire to produce
something piquante, frappante ; and hence the number of
monstrosities that now line the walls of the Luxembourg;
lis Girodet's string of horribles, called the Deluge, and such
like, exemplify. The progress of taste in the arts is the same

LUXEMBOURG — GIRODET. 27

as in literature ; the marvellous and astonishing in both, in
their infancy, are more admired than the sublime beauty of
a grand simplicity, where depth of conception composes the
sentiment, jather than surprise resulting from some forced
expression, and which, inasmuch as it excites a hyperbolical
feeling, invariably loses in dignity by so much the nearer it
approaches the ridiculous. It ai^es obtuseness of sensibi*
lity, where people can be affected only by what makes a
strong impression ; and astonishment is a pleasure of igno-
rance. Chords that can vibrate only when struck by a sledge-
hammer make dull music.

I shall notice only one other painting of this school,
which is to be seen in the Louvre, the Sleep of Endymion,
by Girodet. Endymion, as the classical reader knows, was
a famous hunter; and by his justice and probity obtained the
favour of Jupiter. At his death he was received into heaven
among the gods; but, soon foi^etting the favour, he dared
to make love to Juno, the wife of his benefactor. Jupiter,
to punish the ungrateful Endymion, condemned him to an
eternal sleep in a grotto of Mount Latmus. His beauty won
the heart of the goddess Diana, who is represented at night
by the moon; and the ancient mythology tells us that the
goddess of chastity, fearful of her amour being discovered,
waited till the day was done, to visit her lover and embrace
him as he slept. This is the moment which the artist has
chosen for the representation of his scene.

In a wood of palm-trees Endymion is seen lying on the
skin of a tiger, and appears plunged in the deepest sleep.
A little to the left, and placed somewhat above him. Zephyr
is seen suspended to the branches of the trees, fluttering
about amongst their leaves, and drawing them aside, whilst
Diana, in the form of a moonbeam, falls on the lips of
Endymion. Nothing can be more poetical than the chastity
of such a kiss, or more chaste in taste than the poetry of
such a conception.

But beautifully fine as this idea confessedly is, the most
admirable part of all is the magic tone of colouring which

28 DEPARTURE FROM PARIS.

pervades this picture, and the great art with which it is
managed,

" The cold smile of the raoon,
And the pale foliage of the midnight scene/'

are touched with a brush dipped on Nature's pallet : leaflet
casts leaflet into shade with the greatest perspective accuracy ;
and the stillness and solitude of the scene might well give
courage to the timid prude, for here she may gaze unre-
strained in rapturous delight; here indulge in, and repeat,
the silent, stolen, soffc embrace — sweeter for the stealth, un-
embarrassed by its attendant unconsciousness, and unbounded
in its gratification by the secrecy of its enjoyment.

This painting unquestionably possesses great merit, yet,
however admirable it may be, it is not without a very conspi-
cuous fault. The proportions of Endymion are copied from
the Apollo Belvidere. He has the same style of head and
features ; the same soft outline of limb ; but all magnified to
a gigantic dimension. Now, however well heroic propor-
tions, when justly preserved, may look in a statue, they
seldom or never appear to advantage in a painting. The
recumbent position of Endymion renders this fault less ob-
vious ; but place him upright in the eye of imagination, and
the figure will appear a colossus.

The foregoing observation may recall to the reader's mind
a somewhat similar objection which Strabo makes to Phidias's
celebrated statue of Jupiter at Olympia. The god was repre-
sented sitting on a throne ; yet he almost touched the ceiling
with his head, so that, had Jupiter risen from his seat, he
would have carried the roof along with him.

Departure from Paris. — Aware, as the reader may
be, how little of interest there is before getting towards the
south of France, I mean to hurry him over the intervening
ground, gleaning by the way any stray observation that may
casually lie in the route.

Wishing to see the palace of Fontainebleau, I quitted
Paris by the Barriere d'ltalie, knowing that I could regain

FRANCE — LE PLESSIS. 29

the direct route of Lyons by crossing the forest. It had
rained all the preceding day, and the roads were excessively
dirty; yet I trudged through the mire, satisfied that every
step I took to the south left the winter a yard behind me.
The sun had fisen sad and gloomy, shining dimly by times,
like a sulky child that tries to smile with the tear-drops
hanging to its eye-lashes; now chasing the lighter mists
before him as a ship does the rippling waves ; now plunging
into the thicker and denser, and as he dashed the surging
clouds from his prow, I felt the spray fall on my face. This
portended too certainly what afterwards came — a thick
shower of sleet and rain, which soon wetted me to the skin.
The rain continued to fall more or less all day, and did not
cease until I got to Le Plessis, where I halted for the night.
The landlady was engaged sweeping out her sty with a shovel,
for the dirt lay so thick that the besom came second : a pig,
attracted by the loose cabbage-leaves and other filth, lustily
opposed the lustration, and was not to be denied, although
she kept saluting him very unceremoniously on the snout
with her sabot. I had scarcely seated myself by the fire to
dry and warm myself, when my ears were assailed with
" Toujours faim ! B — de faineante !" and on looking up,
I was astonished to find the exclamation had proceeded from
mine hostess, on catching the poor servant-girl purloining a
mouthful of bread. I have before this had occasion to remark
that, whenever the landlady of a French auberge indulged in
the graceful accentuation of every word with an oath, there
was no great comfort to be expected therein ; and my landlady
of Le Plessis fulfilled my anticipations to the brim. Her
very looks depicted brutality humanified ; and the poor girl
continued to receive, while my little meal was being prepared,
the beatitude of her ill-humour in such epithets as quite
amused me by their extraordinary atrocity. '' Sacre B —
de hite^ " F — de cochoUy' and " Sacres mille tonnerres^*
were flung at her devoted head, as if Jove had cast loose his
thunderbolts, and given them a holyday to revel as they list.
Apprehensive that I too might come in for my share, I was
glad to sneak off to bed as if I had stolen my supper.

;U) 1 Iv ANTi: rONTAINCBLEAr.

No\t inoniiiiir I lloI on tlu^ winix 1)V the dawniuGT of the
raiTie^t Minlirani, hickilv lu^oro tlio i-lie-dragon was t^tinung,
aiul thus tsoapctl thv' Ix'iutit ('t* any valedictory inalediclion.
Ill pas>in«:; tliroui;'h tlie part of the forest hefore comini^ to
l'ontaine]»h\iu, I ste]>|uHl out oi^ the road, among the huge
masses of sandstone that are pih'd one on another in so siu-
uulin* a niainuM*, hi seareli of specimens of those curious
I'homltoidal er\>tal< ^^ h;i*h Liet their name from their lt(ihit(tf^
h<'iii''- found o\\\\ lu're ; hut anah<is has now proved that
ihi-^ anomaUui.^ i'r\sial is not of pnn^ sandstone, hut ohtaius
its tenih'ncv to a>-unie the rluMuhoidal form from its miioii
\\'\\\\ a ]>i>rlioii o^ carliouate of lime. In another part of the
[ovvM tluMe i> a >aH(Ktoue rv»ck so poi'ous that water con-
linuailv lilhM's through it, and hence called la roche oitl
jili-nit'. \\ \< fi'om the ciivum^tauce of the rock ))eing porou:^
that thoM' cr\>tals, I coiicrivt% are formed: the infilti*atiou
earrirsNvlih it tiio sili>\ and lime in solution, which it deposits
a'4ain in ea\itits, on n^tiiiu", in a regular crystalline form.

Arrixini;- at I'ontainchh^au, 1 \va< ilisappointed in seeinc:
the palace, lor the kiui;- ha]»pencd ti> he there on a hunting
pailv, and then it is not shewn to visiters ; so, after resting
mvsrif for an hour, I ci'ossed the fore>t in the direction of
iMiu-fl, and, ri''n)ininL;- the main route, I sujiped and slept at
Scus. It had hciMi markct-dav, and I was entertained in the
<*M'ning hy a i'harlatan m ho travt'lled ahout the country in
in^ cai'riage. The doctor wore a huge pair of nuistachios,
had sorvcd in the campaigns under l)onaparte, was accom-
panird, like Charles \'., 1^'cderick the Cneat, and other great
nun, hy a dwarf tis his fot)tman ; and was in sucli re(|uest,
that rvcn during su|)per he was (li>|)ensing his advice to a
herd of cr(Mlulon> supj)licants. luigland is commonly con-
si<lered the land indigenous of cpnickery, l)ut h'rance in this
respect outdoes us far. In hhigland, mi*n of modest merit
ai*e often ohliL;"ed to stand in some oh>cure passaire or
tlioronghfaiv, and to distrihuti^ their own hil]<, slippinii" tlietn
as ^hlv into vour liau'l as if it Vvci'e a f 'c ; hut in F]*anc«\
^uch, m(;i"e conscious of their nurit, come manfullv or
womanfuUy foi*ward, and proclaim their own due pi'aise

FRANCE — JOIGNY. 31

aloud, yea, often by sound of trumpet. A female Pithoness,
mounted on horseback, the traveller may frequently have
seen on the quays and bridges of Paris, announcing thus to
a dying world some catholicon more wonder-working than
even the elixir of life of old.

Proceeded on tp Joigny next day. — Orthography in per.-
fection is not confined to our own country places, it would
appear. I remember once being puzzled in Cornwall to make
out '' I queres agoose^' painted on a sign-board, and was not
less so to-day upon reading on an open window-shutter,

'' AVOIN AKGRO
E ANDETAl/'

However, not just then standing in need of a feed, I had
somewhat less hesitation about

" AU DE VI,'*

and at a venture treated myself to a petit verre*

At Joigny I crossed the Yonne, passed through Auxerre,
and slept at St. Brie. Here the country begins to ascend
from the plain watered by the Yonne, and continues to do so
till you get between Rouvray and Saulieu. The acclivity,
indeed, is so steady and gradual, that, at first, you are in-
sensible of the elevation you have attained. I observed
abundance of greywacke, full of shells and ammonites, on
the road between Avallon and Rouvray; and between this
and Saulieu, as you reach the upper part of the range of
elevation, the country is formed of red and gray granite.
The red is by far the most abundant, and is of so friable a
nature, from the quantity of decomposed red felspar it con-
tains, that the soil of the neighbouring fields is entirely com-
posed of it. Patches of the same rock, lying flat and smooth
in the manner of sandstone, are scattered on the surface ;
and the white grains of quartz which are so plentifully
strewed amidst the decomposed felspar, now soft and adhe-

• Tumbling over some pamphlets one day at a book-stall on one of the
Pmi$ of Paris, I met with the following work : — " Love'$ Last Shift; ou,
Lit Demure Chemise de V Amour, Co/uedie Anglaise /"

32 I :• \\<- ]. — Lvov^.

-iv^ llr.e r\;iy, <ji\.' r<j tlj* :".!■!- ili*^ npprarance as if thev
^^*'V*: ,-uwii with rict-.

'ii/e ;\-|)»'cr oi" tli^j -iir.'i)'!;!-!!.. j hei'jiits Las iiotliinfj
priiuitivt' iJi<>iit it. \* v. i:i-*«;a-l (»t' beiiij l>oKl, ruirirod, and
jM-akf'd, uir hill- ai-t- r.;iiii-lt.-d an 1 uu-lalatiuLr like those of
th'j c!j;;.:k f •rinai i'>n lii Li;_.lairl. 'Yl.v couiirrv now com-
iiH'iic*- t(j dr-'M..!.d i"! the ^aiiie in)|tt:i\'r}»iihh' and prouressivo
nKinn«;r a- it li.d li^t-n : and as von aj^proach Arnay le Due,
\ on anain nnct \\h\i tin* saniu dt-crintinn <»f LTrevwaoke
w hich was to hf -< t-n at a curropojidin.^ Icvtd on the St. Brie
>id(' of thu nionntain I'ann'r.

1 nm-t now huri'v thr travellrr over the i^round a little
la-tci", withont waitinir to detail Jiccidents of no maimer of
int<'i"( -t. >o, reader, imagine von have drunk of the fine
wine- of Ihirunndv m ar Chaanv and Chalon-, and, pacini^
\()\u' wa\ h\- the >ide « f the >a<>ne to Lvons, vou enjoved the
-ee:ierv on it- hank-, which, without taxing: the ima-zination,
i- real'y not picture-' [in; enouuh to de-eril)e.

LYONS.

'I he v.ealjier still continued wet and cold: the town was
holh dull and dirty ; and the only I'econipense I had for
''(•ttintr so often drenched of late was seeinir the Rhone in
n |)h:nitude of maje-ty. The late rains had greatly suoUcu
the river, and it roIl(;d its flood of wateis to the ocean with
the iinpeluo>ity ofasuictide impati<'nt to he drowned. How
nnieli do our impre-sions depend on circunist(nices totally
infh'j)en(h'nt of the thin;^s that ou;4ht to impi'int them ! The
weather was bloomy, and tinged my piM'ceptions of its own
shafh;. So far to the soutii, 1 expected to find it warmer.
I hun;c <>«Jt at the Ilotcd de Milan, and fancied mvself mi-
romfortahh; : I thouj^lit the town, as a place of manufacture,
on the detdiiie; and 1 saw^ nothin;^ that deserved a second
h»ok, except the fine e(piestilan statue of Louis XI\k, which
the folks at Lyons are so nnich disposed to hold in nnde-
Hcrved ahhorreiice ; yet so truly excelletit did I, on tiie con-
trary, tiiink il, that I considered it as the finest of modern

FRANCE LYONS. 33

Statues I had yet seen : so strongly are political predilections
apt to pervert the judgment !

A stranger coming to Lyons naturally looks for the
characteristic that distinguishes the relations of Midas —
a pecoliarity so humorously alluded to by Rabelais, who
tells us, that, to hide their large ears, the Lyonese always
wore their hats when going to be hanged :

" Privil^e fort authentique.
Pour cacher Toreille Arcadique.''

Whether it really be so or not, I got it into my head that
the people here were less ready to uncover than is usual in
France; many, I observed, wore their hats even at table.
So, not relishing my company, I strapped my knapsack on
my back once more, and left these modem Arcadians to
** go and be hanged" after their own fashion.

The grand route of Marseilles lies on the left bank of
the Rhone, and as you descend with the stream, the scenery
becomes more interesting. At Vienne, besides a fine ancient
cathedral, highly deserving the traveller's attention, there
are the ruins of an ancient bridge across the Rhone.

The rock in this neighbourhood is an impure limestone ;
and I have often before had opportunities to observe that
the most deliciously flavoured wines are grown in the dis-
tricts where the debris of this rock forms the soil of the
country. It is perhaps owing to this same circumstance
that our vines in England partly obtain their flavour, from
being planted by wall-sides, where the mould abounds with
the fallen mortar. Excepting those, the produce of a vol-
canic country, I have never yet tasted good wines where
lime, in one form or other, did not constitute the rock of the
district and the main component of the soil.

The high ground about Vienne hems in the river, and
consequently there is little space left for vineyards ; yet the
Viennese are so sensible of the value of every inch of the
little that is given them, that the rock is cut into narrow
terraces and planted with the vine* It is almost incredible
how very little soil is requisite for its growth ; for here you

D

;> { : v'\ '\ :\^ — r. \\<.k.

V.

: .k. r vT :!.. every hare crevice, and
\t: :^ :*..'•'.^^. T. ^ - • * : - -• :0'-i in tfii"? neiirhbourhood is
ri/:'. :.'..: ut '.:.-. > . . ' ,; '..- . '.-: .:* ...o of Tain, even* son of
I'j.oo:: '.s k^.^^Ti, '* :.:' ■.- :. • '>!.."" Tliat the cause of the
a::^V:\r..'o «-t"^^:: .- :- '.:.// ..:"..: vi-r-^o ;!ar. wtTe a:i idle anru-
:iu^'.! to '.'.-•.s: ;:- ^••. -::;; .* '- ^^--.l k::>\Mi that tlie distance
m' a ir.-k or :^^ ^ ^v.V. :r...*-: : a'/.v a::tr the quality of the
cra.iHv l:\ :'.:•.:.. I a.. ::_'..: ::. !:.\ conic oture of the pro-
porta > ot" r.i:::j./.a:* ki: .1? ::' !:::.ts:j::e Kin^r so influential
ill iir.'.wrtr::, :'.a\o:r :. ^^ :: a. . u\ a! : :: u^^i he expedient to
p'alNori.'c aavl ox'aar: ?.' \..!aa'lo a maiuire to soils less
t'a\ ouiwl

At Tai-a I tV'l la ^^::^. :: i c r> ^Vi rroottdinL: to Oranofe bv
a ooal-har^c, u::a:; ^^ a- : .^ u a\ r T- iiriion, a town on tlie
op}»o>iti^ s.vlo o\ :hc Kiana . '.a \: iia-rv/Ti:::. He wished me
\o aoc.»in|Kra.\ hiai : thf pr M^a^>/io:i h;id novfltv to reconi-
luoud it, aial ^o n\ o ^:aru\l iu\r dav intoiv daybreak. I
wa< iiiij>atiout to uot lo tho >o'aiii, and hy thi'ee p.m. we
landed at I^t. .\iulriv>l, r.avin::- l\on oarritd ahout eitrhtv
\i\\\c< in i\>ol\o hours tloun tiio Khoiio, hv tlie force of the
eiirront alonia On laniliac. I ti:>t Ivoame sensible of the
diti'ertMu'o ofoliniaio, 1 N\a> now ntar!\ five dt^urees to the
south oi' Vn\''\> : and thoni:h Novtanbor was mar its close,
the >M'atlu'r >\a> pleasant Iv \\arni in the nuu-niniis. and even
hot toward> uoiui. I eitv>>od iho Hhiuie to Pierrelatte : and
niountinu u\\ kiuii)>aek next dav as ll^nal. 1 irot to Orauije
in the evenini;*.

OUANGlk

This ancient city, which |;ives title to the princely
house of Holland, was founded ])\ one of the Celtic tribes,
the Cavari, and is mentioned by Strabu under the name
ofArausion, for which he ([uotes Arteniidorus. 'J'he precise
year in which Orange was colonised bv the Romans is not
exactly known, althouoh, from a medal found here, and
mentioned by Goltzius in his iXummi Antifjid Popffl. H
Urbium, it appears probable that this happened under the

ORANGE — TRIUMPHAL ARCH. 35

proconsulate of Tiberius Nero, father of the Emperor Ti«
berius.

A stranger is astonished to find so many fine ruins in
a place so little frequented by the antiquary as Orange.
Those of the Theatre are the best presenred of any extant ;
the Triumphal Arch is a ruin of the most finished work-
manship, and of great beauty ; vestiges of a Circus can be
traced distinctly ; and considerable remains of an Amphi*
theatre haye only lately disappeared.

The Triumphal Arch stands in the middle of the ancient
Via Domitiana^ just before you enter the town. It is of the
usual form— ^ that of a parallelogram i — pierced by three
arcades, with four fluted Corinthian columns supporting ebch
of its sides. The archivolfs on the south fii^ade are orna-
mented with a garland of flowers and fruits of the richest
description. Over the arch to the east we see bas-reliefe of
arms piled on one another, swords, pikes, bucklers, and the
figures of animals, which had served as ensigns. On the
shields you read names, half effaced, of a barbarous ortho*
graphy ; and among these, that of Marius, to which I shall
inunediately allude. The frieze is adorned with fighting
gladiators, but the cornice is destroyed. Over the architrave
of the lesser arches, the figures of tridents and other marine
emblems are only confusedly visible, from being so much
dilapidated, above which ranges a second cornice, which
supports a second stylobate or attic. In the middle of this,
a Imttle, in animated bachreliefe, is represented, in which
you perceive half-naked barbarians, covered with large buck-
lers, engaged with the Roman soldiers. Both armies seem
to have had cavalry. Over the eastern arch, and in the
same attic, there is the figure of a female supporting her
head on her hand, in an attitude of grief, intended, perhaps,
to personify the conquered province. AH that part which
was over the western arcade has fallen, leaving no vestige
of the sculpture which covered it.

Between the columns which sustain the east lateral fiice,
are figures of captives, chained t^o and two, with their
hands bound behind them, in whose c<>untenanees shame and

36 ORANGE TRIUMPHAL ARCH.

grief are well expressed. Over the captives are heaps of
arms and ensigns, and the frieze is enlivened by fighting
gladiators. This face, instead of having the usual length-
ened, rectangular form, is in the shape of a truncated pyra*
mid, which is extremely elegant. In the attic there is a
head of Phoebus, framed in an arch, the border of which is
covered with stars, and two cornucopias incline towards the
angles. The second cornice above the first attic is sustained
by two sirens ; the second attic is plain, but terminated by
an ornamental cornice.

The front which faces the north, and that which first
meets the traveller as he approaches the town, is the most
entire of the whole, and conveys a more perfect idea of its
pristine majesty and el^ance. The arrangement of its parts
is similar to the facade towards the town, but its greater
state of preservation allows the spectator to judge better of
its details. The architrave over the middle arch is beautiful,
and between it and the columns you perceive the holes> of
the cramp-irons, to which, probably, bronze statues were
affixed.

Over the two side tfrches are various trophies, and among
others, a pair of hreeksy in use among the ancient Gauls.
The frieze on this front, instead of figures of gladiators,
shews the holes in which the bronze letters of an inscription
had been fastened, and there are others to be seen in the
attic, which probably had served to fix other ornaments in
bronze. The middle of the first attic is occupied by the
pediment of the principal arch, and on each side are bas-
reliefs, representing ships, masts, pulleys, tridents, &c.| in
good preservation.

In the middle of the upper stylobate there is a battle->
piece, as on the opposite fagade, to the lefl of which you see
various utensils of the Pagan religion — a patera, a cym-
pnlum, preefericulum, and aspergillum, also an augur's staff,
or baton.

The side facing the west is so much destroyed, that it is
now impossible to say what it had been.

The under part of the arcades is sculptured and designed

ORANGE — TRIUMPHAL ARCH. ' 37

with prodigious richness and elegance. On that of the
middle arch, immediately below one of the imposts, you
see two heads of divinities, each wearing a coronet of olive-
leaves ; and above the impost of the vault, rich festoons of
fruits and flowers are sustained, from distance to distance,
by beautiful female heads.

This superb Triumphal Arch is constructed of a coarse-
grained and friable limestone, which latter quality has
tended greatly to favour and accelerate the dilapidations
both of time and of barbarism.

Of the various conjectures that have been put forth to
appropriate the Triumphal Arch of Orange, the most feasible
is that which assigns its erection in honour of Domitius
CEnobarbus, to commemorate his victory over the Allobrogi
at the battle of Ouindalon. Some have ascribed it to Marius
for vanquishing the Teutones, from his name being stiU
legible on one of the bucklers ; but many reasons militate
against this supposition, and one of the most obvious is, that
his name, instead of occupying a distinguished place on the
edifice — for it ought to have made part of the bronze in*
acription on the frieze — is, as we saw, indiscriminately
blended with those of die barbarous chiefs who had fought
on the occasion as the allies of Rome. Again, no where is
an ei^le to be seen among the trophies, though first intro-
duced by Marius himself, as the sole distinguishing ensign
of the Roman legions. This characteristic is a common
trophy on triumphal arches of a later era, and it appears
particularly inexplicable why it should have been omitted
on this occasion, had it been erected to commemorate the
most brilliant of his victories. Pliny tells us that Marius
adopted the ensign of the eagle the year of his second con-
sulate. Now, Marius did not defeat the Teutones until his
fourth consulate, and therefore a considerable time after the
adoption of the eagle as the. ensign of the Roman legions.
But the victory of Domitius preceded this event; and al-
though Marius's name certainly does appear on the arch, it
seems not improbable that this great captain, who had been a
> soldier all his life^ had served in the action in a subordinate

38 ORANGE — THE ANCIENT THEATRE.

rank as tribune — a supposition which would sufficiently well
account for his name being found engraved on a buckler,
together with Sacrovir, Boduacns, &c., especially as we learn
from Valerius Mazimus, that he had been made tribune of
the soldiers the very year preceding the battle.

(Enobarbus was denied the honours of a triumph, which
were decerned to his successor, Fabius Maximus, the year
following, for having terminated the war. On this, the
haughty Domitius did himself those honoqrs which his
country had refused him ; for Suetonius informs us, that this
proconsul traversed Provence, mounted on an elephant, at
the head of his army, with all the pomp of a real triumph ;
and that the Marseillese, and the other colonies, covered the
route he took with magnificent monuments to his glory.
The line of his march afterwards took his name — the Via
Domitiana, and it is thus mentioned by Cicero^ in Fonteio,

From the triumphal arch of CEnobarbus, I went to see
le Cirque. This is not a circus, as its common appellation
would imply, but a theatre, and one in the highest pre-
servation known. It is built of coarse shell limestone,
having a facade 316 French feet in length, by 107 high.
A large square porch, supported on each side by a Corinthian
pilaster, is in the middle, the lintel of which is curiously
dove-tailed, if I may so express it, ci dent de scie ; and over
this an arch is thrown, to lessen the superincumbent pressure.
On each side of the grand entrance there are nine lesser
porches, wliich are arched 'and separated from each other by
Doric pilasters, supporting a plain cornice. Above this you
can perceive a groove, from which a covered portico, or
forum^ had projected the whole range of the front. This
portico had evidently been supported laterally by a wall;
the one to the right still remains entire, with a doorway
which led into the circus, properly so called. Twenty-one
solid arches range above the upper line of the portico, in the
centre of which you perceive round apertures to admit light
into the corridors behind. A second cornice succeeds. Above
this, large stones, or modillons, project, some of which are
perforated by a conical hole, which correspond with another

ORANGE THE ANCIENT THEATRE. 39

range of similar projections extending along the whole line of
the fii^ade. These were for the poles which supported the
velarium. A third cornice is interposed between the two
lines of stone which project, pierced in places to correspond
with the perforations above and below, for its edge protrudes
so as would otherwise have prevented the supports of the
velarium from being inserted into both tiers of stones. This
cornice is regularly guttered, for the purpose of draining off
the rain falling on the roof of the stage. A fourth cornice
crowns the whole. I now entered the interior.

The theatres of the ancients, I may mention, were gene*
rally erected, when the nature of the ground admitted of it,
dose to the declivity of a hill, or else in some hollow place
having a semicircular inclination, which, by affording a
natural foundation for the range of seats, thus spared the
expense of constructing arcades to support them. The
theatres at Delos, Smyrna, Syracuse, and elsewhere, all ex-
emplify this attention to the natural advantages of situation,
and the one at Orange may be added to the list. It is
situated on the crupper of a hill, and where this fails, which
it does towards the east, the semicircle is completed by
arcades. As it now is, the visitor has only an imperfect
view of this part of the edifice, from being masked by houses,
which are shortly to be pulled down. A double tier of seats,
of seven steps in each range, formed the semicircular space
for the audience ; these terminated in two wings, 65 feet by
66. The orchestra, or jpit, occupied a place similar to
that in our modem theatres; and between the episcenia
was the proscenium, 195 feet in length by 36 in depth — a
proportion different, as we see, from the stage of a modem
theatre, which is much deeper than it is broad. A cor-
ridor ran between the proscenium and the wall of the facade
in front.

All these different parts of an ancient theatre are here
readily cognisable ; and several of them still exist, quite per-
fect, particularly the episcenia.

Adjoining the theatre was the circus, the outline ot which
can still be traced by the eye of the antiquary, though.

I

40 ORANGE — ANTIQUE REMAINS.

perhaps, less distinctly by general travellers less interested
in such researches. A nxtenianum, with its staircase entire,
and adorned by a porch, remains, in tolerable preserration.

Orange had likewise its amphitheatre ; but being erected
principally of wood — a proof, by the way, of its greater
antiquity — little or nothing is now recognisable but the spot
occupied by the arena ; and what was formerly washed with
blood, is now used as a public lavacrum.

There are other remains of antiquity to be found at
Orange. Detached parts of its ancient walls are still stand-
ing, and may be readily known by the small square-cut
stones used by the Romans in their walls of enclosure.
Mosaics, lares, lamps, and lachrymatories, have been fre-
quently found, as also inscriptions and medak of various eras
from the early Celtic and Greek periods down to those of the
Lower Empire.

Pleased with a treat altogether so beyond my expectation,
1 left Orange with regret, and proceeded on to Avignon.
In the way you meet with the olive-tree for the first time.
The fruit was getting ripe, and promised an abundant crop.

AVIGNON.

Avignon is a fine old town, pleasantly situated on the
Rhone, and hence its Celtic name, Aoven-ion, which is in-
terpreted, Lord of the River. From the hill above the old
papal palace you have an extensive view, stretching to the
westward into Languedoc ; and turning your eye to the east,
it dips into the fountain of Vaucluse.

Avignon having little to detain my attention, I left my
knapsack behind till my return, and started early next
morning on a visit to this celebrated fountain.

The road leads through a fertile country, which ascends
gradually to the source of the Sorgue. Half-way you come
to Chateau- Neuf de Gadagne, where, among the coarse
gravel of the soil, you find nodules of common jasper strewed
in abundance, with greenish grey clay lying underneath.
At L'isle, about four miles from Vaucluse, there is a good

FRANCE — INSCRIPTIONS. 41

•

inn ; but finding I coald sleep at the latter, and it being
quite early in the day, I halted only for a short timey and
ate of some of the finest and whitest bread I ever saw in my
life. The Sorgue, at Lisle, divides into two branches, which
closely invest the town ; they unite i^in immediately below
it, forming a more mesopotamial town than even Interamna,
hereafter to be noticed. Instead of crossing the stream,
which I ought to have done, I proceeded straight forward ;
but finding that the road led to the right, and away from the
fountain, I struck into a path near a crucifix by the way-side,
and r^ained the valley of the river. It is not unfrequent
for prejudiced travellers to scoff at the customs of a religion
which differ so much from their own as those of the Romish
church ; and although far from approving of many of its
principles and institutions politically considered, this feeling
does not lead me to condemn indiscriminately. On each
iiEU!e of the pedestal of the crucifix was inscribed a short
sentence, which I copied for their very benevolence' sake.
The wearied and solitary traveller is often glad to be ad-
dressed, even by any inanimate object that may surest a
pleasing train of thought. The little amiabilities that are
mutually interchanged between strangers are always cheer-
ing ; and I have often felt the '^ bon soir** of a passenger a
feather in my night's pillow. The inscriptions were these :

1.

O Croix,
Notre unique esp^rance I
Nous Yous saluoDs.

2.
Que Dieu soil propice aux voyageurs !

3.
Quffi paternis fovebat olim,
Nunc et nostris foveat arvis I

4.
Que le Ciel fertilise la terre,
£t en conserve les fruits I

Pass, traveller, this consecrated spot without saying Amen !
and you should be no fellow-traveller of mine.

42 FRANCE — APPROACH TO VAUCLUSE,

As you get deeper into the valley, the scenery becomes
interesting; the surrounding rock approaches closer to the
stream, and the pomegranate, the fig, and the mulberry-tree,
embellish its borders. Nature seems prodigal of her trea*
sures in enriching the approach to Vaucluse. The brawling
Sorgue rushed by over a carpet of green; the perfume of
numerous wild-flowers scented the air ; while the lark from
a neighbouring meadow mounted the skies, and sent up his
sweetest notes to heaven as he soared ; then, falling and
falling, the sounds closed in softest cadence on the delighted
ear, like the petals of a flower on the gradual approach of
night. The grasshopper joined his octave chirp to the deep*
toned hum of the bee; while every songster of the grove
tuned his little throat to complete a chorus of infinite sweet-
ness and melody.

The evening was calm, save a light breeze that blew
softly amidst the branches of the trees, and not a flitting cloud
paced the azure sky. The higher you ascend the stream,
the more turbulent it becomes ; and you pass rocks of lime-
stone of a peculiar stratification, each alternate lamina ap«
pearing like mortar, not soft, pulverulent, and decomposed,
but compact and indurated, as if Nature had taken the
trowel in her own hand to raise these fantastic super-
structures.

As you draw near to the fountain, the scene becomes still
more uncouth and rugged; lofty and savage rocks close
around you, in which you perceive numerous natural ex-
cavations, resembling the caves of the Troglodytes. A dull
noise steals on the ear, which becomes louder and louder as
you ascend the steep. All of a sudden the veil of awakened
expectation is rent asunder. A majestic scene succeeds to the
mild cast of the one you have Just passed, and you now see a
river rising perpendicularly out of the bowels of the earth.
To depict in your mind's eye the scene which gives birth to
the Sorgue, figure to yourself a rampart of rocks on the flank
of a mountain whose grey and venerable head is surmounted
by a coronet of rugged pinnacles. These masses of rock bend
back their ridges, to form a semi-hinar cavern hollowed out

FRANCE — THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUCLUSE. 43

of the solid rock by the chisel of Nature^ at the bottom of
which is sitaated the mouth of the fountain. The water
does not appear to flow from any part in particular, but
ascends tranquilly from the entrails of the earth into a large
basin, where it appears stationary and motionless. This
seeming stillness is deceptive ; for, at some feet from its sur^
face, it regurgitates, and, sinking down, again re-appears
in successive rotations — a phenomenon of which the visitor
may satisfy himself, by throwing a few pieces of wood into
the basin. At first you perceive them quietly swimming
about ; but on watching them more narrowly, you see them
assume a regular progression, and, as if attracted by some
invisible power, they begin to follow one another in the same
track; by and by they take on a rotatory motion, and, now
fiiirly entangled in the vortex, they pirouette in gradually
concentrating circles, and on arriving at the centre sink
down into the whirlpool, and are never seen more. From
the abundance of rain that had fitllen, the fountain was at
its height. It is under such circumstances that it presents
the most majestic spectacle ; for then the reservoir, unable to
contain the volume of water vomited up, ejects the surcharge,
which, overleaping the edge of the basin, rushes over with
stupendous impetuosity, and plunges down from cascade to
cascade, until it forms the stream below. In an instant the
turbulence calms, and it now changes its waves of silver*'
white into an azure stream, which, after traversing a carpet
of emerald, spread by the nai'ad of the fountain, divides itself
into streamlets, which ever and anon unite but to part anew»
like merry dancers in a quadrille. It thus runs its meander-
ing course, under the name of the Sorgue, to water, fertilise,
and embellish the delightful country of Avignon.

On viewing such wondrous beauties, who can help ex*
claiming, —

« Deus, deus, ille, Jtfsnalcal"

Painters, bring hither your pencils, and gather traits from
Nature in all her exuberance of beauty ! Poets, ye have been
forestalled, for a precursor has left you not one neglected

''-K :.".''* ': - '. ' ?t-. Tr I r. "^ res: ::. the f^-me fra2nnent of
r«-k -v'-^'v. :. '» ■-•.. f f: -::j. 5:'-r::r. i'-d Iv thes<? scenes
:: - /. .'.• t *. . -. : :. ; :.v.v' ' y :':.e :.::?^ of the waterfall
::. :.:! -: ; -; > :.. 1 ..:-*:. \--^:--: ^L/e Pr:rTin.h sun^. But
:/j* • :;...> ' ..- . .:. . '* :. ^ :: r.fi.if? :\». : of Time steals on :"
I :. •>: :.'^':;. : -• :.• :j :: s. r. f :^:.^i\]xrr of a future asre,
^^L'.v S'..*'--.i vt-.-..;. - v. :..'. s.v.-.r s::r.t. t.« ponder in like
: : ' 1 ;. :. . ': . . ; ii . >- .. * :. • :. :^ t ^^ I :> vt s of Pet ra rch and
L :'::•-. I:. ; 't--i '. } rt r.t.^i.r.s '.:ke rl-t-se. I rtiurned to the
\:::\f n :'.'.:..''. : ^ .. :...:-•:. wi.tTt. :: •: to i::rorrupt our de-
Sirv:: v.. 1 .... : ^ " ^ : .:r!v •--V'.k'jn some stewed trout, for
wL:o!i :::f ] '..-.C' :* oT.t ' r.-.:t:0. r.:..i a roast fowl, for supper.
It u as i.-J'W :.!:.t :> rtiirt :o rtsr. Ut excess of jdeasure
fati^T'.t'S as n.iiok as \ •;.::: : a:.-; \]\e liiu o{ a neiL:lil>ourinir
cascade. aivUd l-y a .' • - .:f iXv-t'/.ti;: wir.e. soon lulled me to
slotp. aTui 1 sit]'! 11. '^st /.:?::! \ . I rt tr.ri.td to Avignon next
(lav.

Pont dt (»UvD. — M;iiv]i with n^o one dav more, and
we are at tlie p«'>t-]i' u-e : t<> arr:\e at \Nhioli. 1-y the shortest
ronre, v^'i cro-s a Wvvs at UtiiK'iilin. The ruin known
l»v tht^ name of tlie Pout dai Gard is the nulde remains of
an ancient aipieduot. -ituared ah^'Ut a mile from the inn,
wjiich modern inj:enuitv lia- reiitK-red sul"iervient to utility
hv an ad>cititi«»us hi-idi:e. Tlii^ -idendid monument of anti-
quitv stretches, ]>etween two hill-, owr the river (tard, and
served to convev tlie waters of the fountain of Avre to the
ancient city of rsismes: it is 14.") French feet in height, and
consists of three ranges of arches, the lower composed of six,
the middle of twelve, and the upjx'r range of thirty-five ;
and its ^'^reatest leniith, on the level of the water-run, exceeds
800 feet. This nohle structure is of the Tuscan order, and
huilt a pivrrv shlie, as the French well express it, that is,
without cement. The blocks of stone of which it is con-
structed are enormously large ; some are above seven feet
lonir, and of irreat hardness, which will account for its fine
state of preservation. A ruin of such magnitude must be
seen to be admired ; for no descrii)tion can convey an ade-
quate idea of its grandeur and magnificence ; nor can the

FRANCE — PONT DU GARD. 45

imaginatioa grasp by the aid of mere numbers the dimensions
of what is colossal. Its erection is attributed to Agrippa,
who, from his great attention to all matters of this kind,
obtained the title of Curator Perpetuus Aquarum^ an appel-
lation which it is probable he would strive to merit firom this
colony in particular, of which he was the patron. The at-
tention paid to the plentiful supply of wholesome water was
greater among the Romans than with us in modem times.
The frequent and universal use of baths among the ancients,
and the quantity requisite in some of their religious cere-
monies, for ablutions, for the sacrifices, and other mysteries,
made aqueducts more necessary. The fountain at Nismes
is exuberant only after rains ; and as the principal ceremony
here in heathen times was the drowning of the god Apis,
a steady and certain supply became a matter of religious
necessity. We, therefore, cannot wonder at the pains the
ancients took to obtain good water in abundance, or that
the aqueduct of the Pont du Gard should extend nine leagues
in length, following the winding of the hills, before it got to
Nismes.

Wild thyme and other fragrant herbs grow here in great
plenty, and give a delicious flavour to the mutton fed on the
neighbouring hills. Large square stones, part of the ruins,
lie strewed on the heights ; and near the aqueduct there is a
subterraneous cavern, hewn out of the solid rock — for what
purpose it is diflicult to conjecture.

Second day. — Having a day's pastime to give the blan-^
ckisseuse^ I resolved to amuse myself at the same time in
^^gling under the arches of the aqueduct, and in spending
the day in the luxury of those reflections which the com-
panionship of a noble ruin sympathetically inspires. I rose
at daylight: a cane -reed, which grows plentifully in the
fences, served me for a rod — tackle I always carried with
me. It was the first of December, and, although at mid-
day it still continued warm, the mornings were excessively
cold. The sky was clear and cloudless ; the air pure, dry, and
elastic ; yet the cold pierced literally to the bone, producing
a disagreeable gnawing sensation; and I now, for the first

40 FIlANrF — DREAMING AWAKi:.

time, became sensible of tlie triitb and force of the nesfro's
description o{ ^Jassa Frosf — ^^ be bite, and you no see 'iim."
Yet, whim bas sometimes a ghitton's appetite. I had made
up my mind over nigbt to give my stock of patience a benefit,
and l)y no means to stint my gratification by any needless
niggardliness ; and so it turned out ; for after angling till
dinner-time, I bad yet cangbt no fish. I returned again in
the evening:, with the laudable intent of not cfoing: to bed but
with a quiet and full-sated conscience ; and I was indulged
to my heart's content, for still I bad caught no fish. By this
time the moon was up, travelling through a sky of deepest
blue; its orb — for now I allowed the little trouts to nibble as
they list — its orb bad attracted two diaphanous vapours,
which a})peared as its wings, and it glided through tlie ocean
of space like a dream. Lost in reverie, I continued to sit on a
projecting angle of one of the buttresses of the ruin, watching
her airy course, when at times she would plung-e into the
deep shade of some passing cloud, and again reappear, like a
sea-gull, refreshed and fairer for the immersion. How long
I may have remained thus romancing, I cannot well say. I
might have sat till this time, for aught I know, had not the
cold awoke me from my reverie ; for, unluckily, it happens,
at times, that, when fairly mounted on my hobby, my ideas
are so centrifugal of all consciousness, that tliey will fly off at
a tangent as far as the last fixed star beyond the milky way,
and sometimes even ilo not stop till asked for their passport
at the barriers of chaos. What did not mend matters was,
that when I got back to the inn, I found the kitchen-fire out,
and the only pair of bellows in the house were the rosy cheeks
of a buxom wench of a servant girl. Misfortunes, they say,
seldom come alone. To add to other grievances, there was
nothing but eggs in the house to comfort my inward man ;
but I remembered me of the old adage, — *' Ad pnesens ova
eras puUis sunt meliora,'* — and was contented ; for nothing,
after all, perhaps, conduces more to establish this happy
estate than the occasional " rubs and scorn of adverse for-
tune." 1 left, for Nismes, the following morning, with a
determined resolution not to angle for my supper again for
the next centurv, at least.

FRANCE — NISMES. 47

NISMES.

Tradition gives great antiquity to this town, and however
fahulous most of it may be, there are abundant proo6 of its
Egyptian origin. Nismes is the ancient Nem, founded, it is
said, by Nemansus, son of the Libyan Hercules. Now, the
reader is aware that there were several Jack-the-giant-killers
of old who boi^ this name; but our man, the father of
Nemausus, was not the son of Amphitrion, but of Osiris and
Isis, Egyptian divinities, and hence known as the Libyan
Hercules. Both Diodorus Siculus and Ammianus Marcellinus
tell us of Hercules' gallantry in Celtic Gaul, and how. his child-
ren founded cities, to which they gave their names. From
an inscription found, it would appear that the first inhabit^
ants adored Isis, Osiris, and Serapis ; and that the temple of
Diana, the ruins of which still form so interesting a portion
of die ancient monuments of Nismes, had formerly been that of
Osiris and Isis. These divinities, we know, were worshipped
among the Egyptians as emblems of the sun and moon ; Isis
being the moon, in the emblematical sense of the Egyptians,
as Diana was in that of the Greeks. Hence it came, from
this identity in all but name, that when Nismes was after-
wards colonised by the Phocians, in rebuilding the temple of
Isis, they dedicated it to Diana.

27ie Temple of Diana. — This edifice is of the Composite
order. The roof had been vaulted, and covered with flag-
stones, part of which is still standing, sustained within by
sixteen columns, over which an ornamental cornice ranges,
with handsomely scultured tori. In each side-wall were five
niches, and one on each side of the door of entrance ; those in
the wall to the right of the door still remain, and are sur-
mounted by alternate triangular and circular pediments.
The figure of the principal divinity had probably occupied
the recess situated at the bottom of the temple, formed by
four pilasters, two in front and two behind ; And against each
of these stood one of the columns of the temple. At each
ttde of the recess were two others, at the bottom of which
was a spiraculutn, whi<ih might have served ^ther for letting

48 NISMBS INSCRIPTIONS.

the smoke from the victims escape, or as the apertare through
which the oracles were delivered. The ceilings of these
recesses had been richly ornamented, and a mosaic pavement
had embellished the whole interior.

The grand entrance &ces the rising sun, opposite to which
stood the altar. Its vicinity to a fountain, which springs
from under the neighbouring rock, in which the god Apis
could be conveniently drowned, confirms the conjecture of its
most ancient dedication ; and its having obtained the name
of the Temple of Diana from long and immemorial tradi-
tion, attests its subsequent appropriation under the Phocian
Greeks. .Tradition, when universal, must be allowed to pos-
sess its due weight in the researches of antiquity, covered,
as most of them are, by the dust of so many ages.

That there was a temple dedicated to Isis and Serapis
at Nismes is certain, from a fragment of an inscription pre*
served by Albinus, of which the following is a literal copy :

Isis - - - -
Serapis. Vestae. Dianae. Somki. H.S. N. VI. et.

PbIALAS. II ChRISEN CLI qua DFORUM. AR«

Genta Castraensia domo habebat

Item - - - dedicatione tem

Pli Isis et Serapis. deo.

Omnibus Nemavsensivm et or

kamentar singulis 3c ita ut in

publico vescerentur distribui jussit in
que eivs dom us

TeLAN HS N X RELIQUIT ITEM IMA

* OIKEM MaRTIS AR GENTEAM EX

Amnagensibus DEDIT
C. Obdo. BITVR.

The name of Osiris, we perceive, is not in the inscrip^
tion, owing, apparently, to its having been engraved on two
separate stones, the first of which is wanting.

You are perhaps an antiquary, gentle reader? If so, the
lacuniB above will give you ample scope for ingenious con«*
jecture. I myself, at times, delight in trying to decipher
something utterly and hopelessly illegible — whether a certain

NISMBS — THE AMPHITHEATRE. 49

letter, for example, which, if determined, would not advance
the interpretation an iota, be an O or an X. Such amuse-
ments as these are among the ** difficiles nugm' mentioned
by Martial ; and serve passing well, when you wish to be
more than ordinarily agreeable to your friends, in boring
them to death about what you know they lustily and heartily
anathematise and abominate.

The Amphitheatre. — The ruins called les Arines by
the French are the most perfect of any amphitheatre that
exists. The outer walls are entire, and form an ellipsis,
whos^ great axis is above four hundred feet in length, and
its smaller above three hundred. The lower part forms a
portico, which opens by sixty arcades into the interior. The
second story is composed of the same number of arches, over
which an attic ranges. Among the lower arcades are four
principal portals, facing the four cardinal points: that to-
wards the north is surmounted by a pediment, beneath which
yoo observe two ox-heads sculptured in relief.

This noble monument is of the irregular Tuscan order,
approaching the Doric, and is about seventy feet high from
the lower arcade to the attic. Thirty-two rows of seats for
the spectators had ranged round the interior, seventeen of
which still remain. Stairs, leading from the lower to the
upper arcade, proceed from the portico, and terminate in
three ranges of vomitories ; and, after allowing sufficient
room for each person, it is calculated that this amphitheatre
could not have held less than eighteen thousand spectators.

Over the attic are one hundred and twenty modillons,
at equal distances from each other, pierced with a hole in
the middle, for fixing the tent-posts of the velarium for
covering the spectators.

The principal part of this edifice is built a pierre siche,
and some of the stones are more than seventeen feet long —
a magnitude so extraordinary, as to have given rise to the
idea, in the dark ages, of the Romans having possessed the
secret of casting stones in the manner of metals.

There are different opinions of the time in which this

£

50 XISMES THE MAISON CARREE.

arena was erected. It could not have been prior to the
reii^ii of Tiberius, lor we know that, previous to this, amphi-
theatres were all constructed of wood ; and it was this
emperor who first erected them of stone, in consequence of
the one at Fidenes having* fallen, and crushed under its
ruins more than 20,()(K) persons. Nor could it have been
after the time of the l^^mperor Phili]), when it is probable
that the barbarous amusements of the amphitheatres were
abolished. The most proba])le conjecture ascribes it to An-
toninus Pius, who had erected this monument with the object
of end)ellishiM'>; the native place of his father, Aurelius Ful-
vius, about the vear 140 of the Christian era. In vain did
the zeal of the first converts to Christianity attempt to set
it on fire, the marks of which are still visible under the
arcades; nor have tlie ravages of a^es been more successful
in their dilapidation, for it still stands to defy their further
hostility.

The Maison Carrke. — This bijou of antiquity has been
long* celebrated for its beauty and high preservation. The
form of this edifice is rectangular, sustained by tliirty fluted
Corinthian colunnis, surmounted ])y an entablatin-e, the
frieze of which is sculptured and ornamented with infinite
delicacv. A urand vesti]>ule, with six Corinthian colunms
in front, ranges ]3efore the porch of the temple ; and by
excavations lately made, it lias been discovered that a
colonnade had surrounded the edifice, in which were two
open galleries, connnunicating by arcades that corresponded
with the intercolumniations.

From an inscription deciphered by M. de Seguier, it
seems probable that this pretty model of architecture — for
it is so neat and small as to deserve no jxreater name — had
been dedicated to Cains and Lucius, the adoptive sons of
Aumistus.

On a height above the public gardens, and Jiot far from
tlic temple of Diana, stands tlie Tourmagne. This building
formerly flanked the ancient walls of the town, and, from its
peculiar form and situation, has givTii rise to diverse opinions

NISMES ANCIENT REMAINS. 51

concerning its designation. Some have thought it a pharos,
some a mausoleum of the ancient kings of the country,
others a fort and watch-tower, some an cBrarium ; but I
am more inclined to agree with those who think it a ceno-
taph. Conjecture has consecrated it to the apotheosis of the
Empress Plotina, the wife of Trajan, and mother, bj adop-
tion, of the Emperor Hadrian. Its pyramidal form' and
hollow interior favour this supposition; and its situation is
no drawback to the probability, for the mausoleum of Mu-
natins Plancus at Graieta is built on the summit of a hill.
Its base is heptagonal, its upper part octagonal, and the
whole is of the Doric order.

There are other antique remains to be seen in two of the
ancient entrances to Nismes, which indicate the circumfer-
ence, in part, of the original walls — the Parte de France^ and
the Porte d'Aiyuste. On the latter there is an inscription,
which incontestably fixes its erection to the year 736 of Rome,
that is, about eighteen years before the Christian era.

Some ex votasy which have been found, prove also that
Augustus had a temple to his honour at Nismes, when, in
the impious dotage of his latter years, he believed himself
a god. Thus: —

Mercurio. Aug. T. Valerius. Gratus.

Ex VOTO.

Another : —

Valerias. Patron as. Suae.
Sanctitatis. Jovis. Et. Augusti.
Sacrum. Luciljus. Cesti. F.

To which may be added an epitaph of one of his Fla-
mines : —

DoMiTiAE. Grecinae. Flamini. Aug. V.S. p.

This temple is thought to have stood on the site of the pre-
sent cathedral, although the principal temple in Gaul in
deification of Augustus, as we all know, was at Lyons, and
to which each province sent a statue.

Tliere is a certain cacoethes in the humours of some

52 MONTPELLIER THE CLIMATE.

people, of so stirring and metastatic a nature, that no sooner
is the pruriency of cariosity allayed in one place, than it
breaks out, with undiminished virulence, in another. This
erratic humour was on the more within me ; and having
now seen all that Nismes had of ancient and curious to offer,
I set out for Montpellier. The road leading to this haven,
which phthisical hope has so often panted to reach, becomes
less and less interesting the nearer you approach it. Olive
plantations extend on both sides ; but the olive is a dismal-
looking tree ; and if it really personifies Peace^ it must be
of the requi£scat description, for every branch looks as if it
bore a hatchment.

Montpellier, as a town, I knew was not likely to interest
me ; but I was anxious to visit it, that I might judge of its
climate. How this place ever obtained its reputation as a
fit residence for the consumptive invalid, it is difficult to
account, unless, indeed, from being the seat of a medical
school, and that its professors understood the benefit of such
a character. The situation of Montpellier is open and un-
protected, standing on a hill exposed to the bise, which
tickles the weasand like a notched razor — enough of itself,
without other co-operation, to produce the cAin-cough. Did
those deluded victims, who are sent to such a distance, fre-
quently to die on the road, know what they sacrificed when
they left the comforts of home — the healing solace and
sympathising attentions of friends, for the fallacious assur-
ances of a more genial climate, they would never quit
their native shores, for the cold recompense of lying in a
grave beside her whose fate gave occasion to the ** Night
Thoughts.''''^ But enough — the delusion is almost cleared
off; and notwithstanding the interested writings of some
medical men, even of our own country, the memento maris
of the place have become too numerous, and too generally
known, ever again to feed the altars of death at Montpellier
with hecatombs such as heretofore.^

^ Young^s daughter died and was buried at Montpellier.
t The proportion of deaths annually in Montpellier is even somewhat
gi^ater than in London.

MONTPELLIER — THE CLIMATE. 53

Apart from this consideration^ Montpellier is a clean and
passing pleasant town, and its school of medicine upholds
its former character on its wonted eminence. There hap-
pened to be a vacancy for a subprofessorship when I was
there ; and the manner of selecting the successor to it ap-
peared to me so good, and so worthy of imitation in our
English universities, that I may notice it. Five candidates
stood for the appointment : each wrote a treatise on a sub-
ject at his own option, which was read before the professors
in public, and the author was obliged to defend it against
the objections of all the other candidates in rotation. I was
quite pleased with the talent and animation with which the
disputation was carried on ; for, as it may be readily con-
ceived, it was naturally an object with the different candi-
dates to adduce every possible objection to the tenets of their
rival under trial. No mode could more effectually test the
abilities of each severally ; and he that should come out of
the crucible least torrified by the experiment, was the one
sure to be elected.

There is a collection of wax anatomical preparations
belonging to the museum ; and among the many portraits
of professors who have rendered this school illustrious, the
visitor will not forget to search out that of Rabelais.

Having satisfied my curiosity at Montpellier, and nothing
of interest leading me farther in that direction, I left it
to return by Nismes, in my way to Aries.

I neglected to mention, that in the route to Montpellier
I passed through Lunel. This town is celebrated for its
Muscat wine. The canal of Languedoc, which extends to
Toulouse, likewise commences here, and hence, by the Ga-
ronne, completes the communication of the whole south-east
of France with Bordeaux. The morning I intended settiilg
out from Lunel for Nismes it began to rain in that hearty
sort of manner which shewed it to be perfectly serious in its
intention to do so all day. Now, this is one of those in-
conveniences there is no getting over; and for a solitary
pedestrian, I know of nothing better to put him into a cacoe-
thic mood. What the devil is he to do to kill time, in a

'>^ IIM.L — V UAINY day's AMUSEMENT.

|»Iii»T \\\uvr \\wvc is ih> oarililv aniuseinent ? The weather is
•"IV In |Mil luni oui i»t'tiMn|)rr. If he wishes to read, there
i« MO Im.oIv Io Im' Ii:hl v\cv\)l \hc Line dc Pastes. One miirht
limn n \\\\\v \M>rr ilio lirarl up, hut tliere is such a damper in
llh- djiN . llml no >o(MhTdo you sti'ike up << Away with inelaii-
rliolv," ilinii lis hi:'nl)riou> Hint' iiiakivs vou sadder still. One
miiN MiiA llii' luuMc. auil nu-tat on tlie table with one's
lin.'.riM . inik ofvliaNN. oats, or horsi-Hesh, with the landlord,
Of nnniMr oiu^'s m'IT atu«r \\\c laiidaMo manner of Domitian,
Mild IN d.liancr o{ Dicky .Martin, in wai^ino; war whh a pin
a".nnh*l llu- \\\v> \ and \ri all lo no jiurpose. Luckily the
M'lVMiil .•111 happrih'd to W NNa>liinu-: the steam had settled
lliiik on llu- windows, juid ^o | hro-m, hy ^ay of yarvino- mv
pnMiinr. liacin-- \\iih my tiii-'iT on tlie ])anes of glass the
iiiilials of a ta\.anilr iVii lal. uIumi, to my i;T(-at joy, 1 brought
inl(» lii'Jil M'vtaal inM-riptlons scralclitMl on the window.

Any ihini;- Hkr a diseoNcry in sueh a listless mood of mind
places altiMilion t»n tiic 7/// rlre : the eve once more finds
itself in its orbit ; one insiini"ti\ cly brnslh^s the cobwebs from
ones e\elids, and pryini;- curiosity i;ets astraddle on the nose;
and thus it was thai I read tlu* foUowini;' lines: —

*' /\ life passed in continu'.d ti'avellinjj:.- j)rocures many

ac(piaiiilauces, but not one frii'ud." — True, true, said 1, mon

(tint only it nnist have been a rainy day when vou wrote

• » »■

Ibis.

** \\\\\\ !" quoth a second, " no one is esteemed a prophet
in his own coimtry. We never meet witli so nnich real in-
dul^-ence as tnuonii: those wh<) jud^e of us ni jxisstf/if/^ — True,
a«;"aiu, replied I ; and, as I am a sinner, tlu^ sky briiihtens.

** Lile is a vovaj^'e,*' wi'ote a thiid. *' W ith Love as our
coiN'ier, we travel like the wind. Two iiours more — three
short ])osts, and [ am at yom* feet, adoralde Adrle!" Why,
landlord, said I, as 1 peeped throuL^h the transparency 1 had
eiVected in the pane --why, landlord, the sun shines a1)road,
and we shtdl certaiidy have a tine day after all. By tliis
time I had y:ot nearly to the bottom, an<l tbouiiht my deci-
pherini^ ended, when pot-hooks of an l^nL;lish cast came into
view. This inscription was the coroudt opus ; and mai'k it

RETURN TO NISMBS — THE DONKEY. 55

welly migratory coantrymen, for there is something nationally
characteristic in the interesting memorandum : —

'' John Hogskin slipt hear the 17th Sept. 1829. Bom,
Puddin Lane, London, Ant Domino, 1797.'' — Friend Hog-
skin, I shake thee by the hand. Rain or shine as it may,
genuine son of smoky Thames, thou hast shot across my
overcast spirit a radiance of thy own brilliancy !

Next day I started, accoutred as usual. When I had got
within eight miles of Nismes, a boy kept teasing me to ride a
donkey he had, (a mode of travelling in this part of France,)
and, by sheer perseverance, succeeded in persuading me. It
was a novelty, so I mounted without further hesitation, and
the boy ran behind, belabouring Neddy's rump with an un-
couth cudgel all the way. As I approached Nismes, I was
beset by a parcel of beggar boys and girls. Acting the part
of a grand milor as I was, and no longer considering myself
a humble peripatetic, I could not do less than give them
something. There were exactly seven of them; and that
there might be no contention or quarrelling about the fair
partition of my bounty, I gave them half a franc, with strict
injunctions, loud enough for all of them to hear, that it
should be equally divided amongst them : then, ambitious of
leaving a proper impression of my consequence behind me,
I stuck my heels into the donkey's sides, and went off in a
tolerably graceful canter ! But consciousness within is a
mortifying delineator of reality ; and reflecting, as I could
not help doing afterwards, on the weakness that had prompted
me to cut a caper before such a set of ragged rascals, I in-
wardly exclaimed, '* Let no man say, after this, ' I will not
bow the knee before the idols of human vanity !' " From
Nismes I got to Aries.

Aries is situated on the left branch of the Rhone, a little
below where it bifurcates at Fourque to form the Camargue.
It was a favourite residence of Constantine the Great ; and the
ruins of his palace still remain.

Aries is. an abbreviation of Aralata, so named from a large
altar that existed here, on which two young men were annually
sacrificed as victims to the goddess Diana. We learn from

! 1

• A

1

-> T:.e

- ' •-* * -- A V

T.-^*

"It

■ * -- - - '- i^^^ .

•* - ^ »

. . - ' : ' " : ' : { "V -y ..::.t f wi.icli

.. ' • - • . -. • - i --.••• .^ ^ » V «i

m

- - .- - - -. I 1 "• ^ ■' • -i ■) *^»-nl

•'... -. ....» .^^ . -.» « ...» .»v rA. >..iAkiill ,
- - .,,, 1,..

« ■

(»••;" . ■• . A .A." "" K »

'W,*^ i<. , t rn '.'f .\:.-' '••:.*'.;!:.- -.:..v ;;:.:: /:v -v'l'.p tares,

'Uit V. ,f,< Hi tijj- u(-yj.ii\i'>iin,ij',<\ \< e\o;i!<.iit: and 1 liad
t-,(iy n:i-',n to ]><: -ari-fjrd w'lrli the H-Ttldi Noril, which
\,<,'>ii'. f>\ f'lif i)i \}ic }>'•-». <-(f')ki in I"raiict'. M. \'iand is con-
i«f valor ol tfj*' ariJj<jijitii'-, and t}j(j travt-lltT will tind him a
ri V il and n»h ll/'^'^nt ^/uidc.

Arh- wa- rarlv ndchratiri in ilj,- hi^-torv nf Christianity :
\iiVf', in ;{| 1, a ronncil ua- h« ]<i, at which our two l»i>hops of
Lonrlon and V'oik as'-i^tcd ; and it was i'^thcreus, archhishop

'I )•<•',« linil'liii; -i .lie .iliniil In Iji ii moved, Hs will ;is .ill lliu>t' abuUilli;
tin «Hii(r vv.dh, ulij(li .it j»Mv Ml .«) ijiiK li (lisli'jinx. .iinl aj.i>k tliii. n(.>ble
I ijin

ST. REMI — THE MAUSOLEUM. 57

of Aries, who, at the request of Pope Gregory, ordained
St. Augustin bishop of Canterbury.

ST. REMI.

Another day's march brought me to St. Remi. Under
the mountains, and at a short distance from the town, stand
two monuments of antiquity, which, were there nought else
to be seen in the neighbourhood, would repay the trouble of
coming so far to see them: — the one, a mausoleum; the
other, a triumphal arch. Both are on a small scale, and are
such precious and well-preserved models of their kinds as to
suggest the wish that they could be removed, and placed
under glass shades on a mantel-piece. The mausoleum is
quite perfect, and may be described as a richly decorated
pillar, consisting of the following parts : —

On three plinths, increasing in height as they rise, stands
a pedestal, the die of which is ornamented on each face with
representations of battles between cavalry, sculptured with
infinite spirit and most perfect workmanship. Fluted Co-
rinthian columns at the four comers, resting on a common
plinth, support an arch, the archivolt of which is enriched
with festoons in arabesque, encircling a mask on the key«
stone. Over this is an entablature having an ornamented
frieze ; and on the lower fascia of the architrave you read the
following letters, as well as I could make them out : —

S.E.X.I.M.I.V.L.I.E.I.C.F. P.A.R.E.N.T.I.B.V.S. S.V.I.S.

Over the cornice three circular plinths of progressively in-
creasing eccentric widths sustain other fluted Corinthian
columns, ranged in a circle, supporting another ornamented
entablature, and the whole is terminated by a dome formed
of flagstones sculptured to resemble overlapping foliage.
Under the dome of the temple formed by the circular colum-
niations are two statues dressed in Roman togas, with their
&ces turned towards the triumphal arch standing close by.

The Triumphal Arch. — This other beau morceau con-

58 ST. IIKMI ANCIENT MONUMENTS.

sists of II sin«::l(^ arcli, and the archivolt is adorned with a
frsloou of tVulls and tlowcrs of such exquisite richness as to
dclN (Icscrintiou. The vauU is enihellislied with h:)zenLre:*
cncl()>in«j,' (lowers Hkewise sculptui'ed with the utmost (hdi-
cacv an<l finish, and ])oth are in tlie highest state of pre-
H'rvafion. Two iluted ])ihisters are placed on each side of
the arch, hctwcini wlilcli you see the nnitilated figures of a
man and a woman ; hut what remains is suliicient to shew
the masterly chisel tluit had executed them. The attic is
(h'st roved.

What enliances the heautv of these fine monuments is
iheir pictures(|ut^ situation under the mountains. Their rocky
piimacles ovei'look the remains of former glories, like guardian
.sjiiiils; and, as iftlu'y had caught something of the romantic
features of the ol ejects around, they slioot np in shapes so
fantastic as to simihite tlie ruins at their feet. One, m
jiarticnlar, the (/crlu'i-us of the gronp, has a detached point
near its sunnnit, winch appeared in the mist of the morning
lik(; a iJigmy sentinel ke<'[)ing watch on its shoulder whilst
the monster itself took a naj).

Tin; town of St. Jvcmi merits little otlier notice; hut I
ou<iht not to dismiss it without acknowledixinji' the screat
politeness I received from tin* late mayor, who took ohliging
pains to assist me in my little researches. Close hy the anti-
(piilies thcMc is a ])rivate asylum for the insane, of some
jv|)ute in the neigh])ourhood. 1 visited it; and would re-
commend the travelh^' who would do so likewise, to provide
himself with some tohacco ere he goes, for the unfortunate
inmat(is will tease him for nothiuLi' so nnich.

Mei*e, as in all the other places in this part of the counti*y
where ruins are foun<l, every thing, hy tlie imlettered, is
ascrihed to Marius. I confiss 1 cannot make from the in-
scription on the pillar wherewithal to render any conjecture
plausihhi. We know that when the Teutoues and Amhrones
overran this part of Narhonese (iaul, the Romans were de-
feated in succession under tlie consul Silanus ; next Scanrus
and his whole army were destroved : and that these har-

•/ mi '

harians afterwards defeated the consuls iNlanlius and Capion,

AIX — ITS ETYMOLOGY. 59

in which the two eons of the former were slain. Marius,
we further know, succeeded in retrieving the disgrace which
the Roman arms had sustained. Could these monuments,
then, have been erected, the one to consecrate the memory
of the sons of Manlius, whilst the other commemorated the
final defeat of the barbarians under Marius?

I now crossed the country to regain the main route,
and arrived at Aix early on the second day after leaving
St. Remi.

AIX.

This place derives its present name from a sad corrup-
tion of its derivatives, in which so few letters of the original
remain, that were its etymology not indisputable, few would
be able readily to recognise, in such a skeleton, its primitive
appellation of Aquee Sextiee.

About a hundred and fifty years before the Christian
era, the Ligurians attacked the Marseillese colonies of Nice
and Antibes, and they, despairing of being able to resist the
besiegers, besoi^ht succour of the Romans. These ambitious
people, always attentive to extend their dominion, seized
this pretext to carry their arms into Gaul ; and under the
consuls Opimius, Flaccus, and C. Sextius, they severally
defeated the Salyens and Voconces, and, appropriating the
conquered country to themselves, they gave it the name of
Provincia Nostra, a name it retains to this day — Provence.

Aix was originally the capital of the Salyens ; and, after
his victory, Sextius being himself a valetudinarian, con-
siderably enlarged the city, on account of its warm baths,
about the year of Rome 629. Aix was dedicated to the god
Mercury, by Sextius, as appears from the following inscrip-
tion found: —

C. Sex. Calvinus Uos Agros Mercurio

D.D.

The origin of its name is thus recorded in the fourth book
of Strabo — " Ob aquarum copiam^ et a calidis et frigidis

()0 AI\ EARTHQUAKES.

j\>}it'fhfi.<, tt a .<>'() th>iii'im- ltd (Sextius'l app'AJavit ;^^ and Liw
mentions tlio placo uikKt tlie same tleiiomination.

The T/.imui Si.rfii -till exist, tliouLrh the faith in their
prolific virtue niav no loiiirer remain. The temperature of
the water i> ahout 90 of rahreiihcit, and it contains a sliglit
iiiiprtXiiatlou of the ^ulphate of magnesia and carbonate of
lime, with -ome owl:*!! and fixed air. The first sensation
on eiiii rin.:- the hath is that of chill, which soon goes off;
and as tlu- water tlnw> in Li'i'eat pleiity, it continues to run
into thi^ hath \\hile \ on I'emain : when it u'ets too full, the
Mii'i'harue is ea-ilv let i^ti" hv rai?inir a idnix from helow.

Thtv >ht'\\ vou a rmle Inis-relief, so defaced that it is
now ditlieuli to ^av uluilur it was nteant for'' ahead or a
harp,' undiM* which is insci*il)ed : —

I'll 1 -^1 -^ Tu \i M» A '1 -; . 1 :i \<-i 1 r> \ini.\K.\ nixi a.\,
Sip 1 V M 1 IN I Ai n'i> n-i Pr. mti > a\'( I'^,

Aix ^tlll continues io \)c alni!ulantly Mtpplied with water,
antl the town is enihrHi--lu d with manv fountains, from some
of which tri)ld waiir tlow>. Two, in particular, are in good
ta>te : one, an ohtli-k >upporti'd on the hacks of four lions,
and ii'ianinatiHl at tv p hy a hall, on which an eagle is
perched. The i(ha and attitude oi^ ilu* eai^le are good : its
r\pau(h'd wing*- cheek the e\ e in its career upwards; and
the hird, hy looking (h)w n on the spectator, directs the atten-
tion again to the fountain heiu-ath. The other is a hand-
.sonu* Corinthian colunui ofhasalt, a presi'ut from the vene-
i-ahle Archhi^hop of Aix. In the church of St. Sauveur there
are two or thi'ee tolerahle paintings.

\\ t' are told hv IMutarch, in his Life of Marius, that the
battle of this great captain against the TtMitoiies took place
in the plain of Aix, in which 80,000 wcie slain ; and few
spots could have heen fixed upon better suited for a unite.

Aix is subj(H't to shocks of earth(piakes. The mountains
in the neiirhbourhood are of limestone, ami the hollow in
which it is situated may have been formed by the sinkint;
down of the vaidt which covers the sid)terrane()us cond)us-
tion. The shocks of earlluiuakes, which are occasionally

MARSEILLES. 61

felt, and the tepid springs in different parts of the town,
tend to favour such a supposition — a supposition which we
shall have opportunities hereafter to render still more pro-
bable, when we come to point out the uniform and invari-
able coincidence in the. presence of limestone and water
with volcanic phenomena of any extent elsewhere.

The road between Aix and Marseilles is hilly, and pre-
sents nothing remarkable until you get within a league or
two of the latter. As you approach the edge of the height
which commands Marseilles, the air freshens on the senses ;
a few short miles more, and the frothing wave falls exhausted
at your feet. The fishermen are seen watching or drawing
their nets, and boys gambling in the water like as many
ducks. The sun had now begun to woo the western horizon,
and to set in an ocean of fire ; while, in the east, the moon
rose in majestic silence : a pale gleam lit the distant groups
of mountains, and deep shadows reigned in the valleys : the
little barks had unfurled their sails, and, like sea-birds on
the wing, were preparing to seek a haven for the night;
their ensigns and pennants float on the breeze ; the oars
plash with regulated stroke the briny flood ; and, as the
merry mariners ply toward their homes, the laugh flies
round on the pinions of anticipated joy. A kind of peaceful
tumult and confused murmur steals more and more audibly
on the ear, and in another moment you find yourself in the
midst of the gay crowd in the Grand Cours of Marseilles.

MARSEILLES.

This opulent mercantile city, formerly a part of Nar-
bonese Graul, was founded by the Asiatic Phocians, as we
are informed both by Athenaeus and Isocrates, in the 45th
Olympiad, about one hundred and seventy-six years before
the building of Rome.

Marseilles derives its name firom Mda^at 2aX/o/, said to be
the first exclamation of the adventurers on reaching the port;
that is as much to say — " reef the sails" — we are in the
country of the Salyens.

(J'J M VUsllI 1 ].S — ITS CHURCH.

r'.a^ li/.'.lv^'.ir v^f Mar^oillo> roseinMos nn ancient theatre
\\\ tV::.'., ..r.vl > '^ivttv'ail '^i^awiinl from the wmd hv tlie

It > r.v^: ir.N :')'y\\:\^:\ in tliis journal io enter minutely
I'.'tv^ ;\r :;>:v*r\ . i-.::i r anrivnt or nioiK'i'n, of the diiiereut
l^l/vt - 1 '.r...\ \i-':: ^^nt nuMily to j^i^e a sketch, sufHcient

Vi i:ia'.>- i.^ •'•.u '.v>: ;lu^ traxc'iUr, l»v caUiii'j: to his recollection

I I • >

vv>iiu' ot" \\\c wx^'vc jM\Mr.;:ant evi-nts connected witli either.
Sutlu\^ i( III 'vlii- i^lav'i' to say, that the ancient republic of
\l.r-i 'ilo< v'an hoa-t ot'haxir.j; coiU[uered the (.'artha^'inians,
viu\'om\'vl u\v Kv Mians. plar.rod colonies, eiviHsed the ancient
(i/.r.U. i.;u.Jit lia.'.N tiu' / .". .< /»'.*;(.v, and prides itself on
ht ;r,>; V\c ili-i o.:\ in Tranco \vhich ncoived and acknow-
hiij^td i '1\'. i-iia;i:tv . It w .is the ^hir-^eiUese ^vho founded
\iu;lv-. ihi' a'.K-ii'.ii .\iiu^|H'li<, Nice and Turin, and the
ann*^ o\ all wvMi^ a I'uil. flu y adoptetl Diana of Ephesus
:is llu ir |'aivinu -- ; aiul the siie of tlie present cathedral is
that i^f tlie 'aiu'uait toiiij>le of t!ii< ^odiless. Tliei'e >vere two
oilier ti'inplos hero one of Apollo, and another of ^linerva,
hut nv'tlnn^- riauaiii-i of eilhei*.

'Hxc ehureh o[' V. ar-e';lle-> dr<'\v its first origin, accordinir
to till' hueiids. fi-..ni l.a/ani<, whom the ,lews, as the story
L:-oes, dro\e out of .KM*u-.;lem with his si>ters, Martha and
the Maudahn, Mareillus their MM'vattt, .lo>epli of Arima-
thea, and other di>eiph^< of Chri-t ; and after being put into
a boat without >aiN, helm, or oars — without which there
woidd 1)0 nothiui;' tniracuKnis in the nnitter — they landed,
notwithstandiuL:-, safe in the port of Mar.-eilles. St. Lazarus
and Mary INhimlalen remained, and converted tlu^ iidiabitants
from idolatry to the worship of the true faitli. They turned
the temple of Diana iiUo a ehmvh, which occupied the spot
where tln^ ((/list' i/nijor now stands, as \n as before observed.

This clnu'ch ))ossesstHl numerous relics before the Ueyo-
lution. Amoiiii* these was the >kull of La/.arus, which had
thvee crowns of <j:old proented to it by as many ditferent
devotees, studded thick witli emerald^, sapphires, ])earls,
and other precious stomas; likewise the riL;ht hand and a
rib of the ]\Ia<j;dalen ; a rmi::er of St. Martha ; and a piece of

MARSEILLES, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 63

the wood of the holy cross ; some of the stone from Lazarus's
first tomb ; part of the cradle of our Saviour ; some of the
water of the river Jordan ; a stone from the place where the
holy Virgin was delivered, and another from her sepulchre ;
a vase containing a tear of our Lord, which fell on the tomb
of Lazarus as he was about to work the miracle of his re*
surrection — this tear, it was said> was brought by the Mag-
dalen herself to Marseilles ; a tooth and some of the hair of
St. Peter's beard ; besides sundry other invaluable relics too
— if I may so conclude, in the summary and profane lan-
guage of a catalogue — *^ too tedious to mention."

Marseilles in ancient times was celebrated both for its
learning and the illustrious men it produced, on which
account it was sometimes styled Athenopolis Massiliorum,
Petronius Arbiter, the poet, was a native of Marseilles ; also
the orator Antonius Guipho, Demosthenes the physician,
mentioned by Galen in several parts of his works, Telon
and Crinas, both famous astrologers — the latter lived in the
times of Claudius and Nero; Carmides, also, the great friend
to the cold bath ; and, lastly, I may mention Pitheas, the
famous cosmographer and traveller — the Parry of antiquity,
who first explored the Ultima Thule. We learn from Strabo,
that Pitheas described it as being surrounded neither by air,
nor land, nor sea, but of a matter composed of all the three
together, which chemical compost resembled a sponge, and
to this porous buoy the whole world was fastened. Pitheas
flourished in the time of Alexander the Great; and in
those early, unsophisticated days, travellers, as we may
perceive, had not yet learned the craft of dealing in the
marvellous.

Of modem Marseilles — and, first, of the harbour. This
little port — for it is not much larger than one of the East
or West India docks — was well named Halcydon by Mela,
for it is so hemmed in by the town on the north, and the
heights of Mount Bourbon on the south, that scarcely a puff
of air can reach it. There is a strong fort on each side of
the entrance ; and quays range round it, which, are both
spacious and commodious. The harbour was crowded with

61 MAiisi:ii.Li:s — bureau de sante.

shippiiii;- ; mid every tliiiii;* presoiitecl the appearance of coui-
iiioive, Ijii^tk', ami pr()>p('rit v.

The Ihii'i'ini dt Smite is situated at tlie entrance of the
liarboiir, to the riirht on uoinir out, and contains two speci-
mens ui' art which well nierit a visit from the stranger: the
one, an unfinished bas-reUefin marble, represents St. Charles
Borromeo arret-tiug, by his intt^rcession, the plague at Milan,
bv Puiiet ; tlie other is a ])aintini2: bv David, done on his
return from studvinir in the schools of Italy, and depicts
St. Kock praving to the \'irgin to put a stop to a pestilence.
The sn])ject has no particular reference, and, thus unshackled
by matters of fact, which often cramp and disable the ima-
giuation, the artist has full scope for the indulgence and
revelry of t!\cur>ive fancy, either to cull flowers on Par-
nassus, or grul) bones from a charnel-house, as his subject
mav demand. Tliree iiirures in the forei>Tound delineate the
three stages of pestilence : the one, a father, whose ghastly
countenance indicates the iirst ^ymptoms of the attack, and
the inci})ient workings of the deadly poison. Behind this
strikinu' iiuiire vou st'e the son in a i»aro\vsm of delirinm.
Uttering the incoherent ideas of a brain on iii*e ; whilst his
wife, stretched ijianimnle on the ground, already lies the
victim and triumph ofdcjath. The A irgin, full of loveliness
and gi'ace, seems to hearki^n to the prayer of St. Rock,
while an infant Jesus, on her knee, joins in the merciful
supi)lication.

This tine painting hapi)ily wants all David's most oflen-
sive faults. Tlie colouring is rich and harmonious: here is
no statue-like harshness of outline, no outrageous attitude,
or attempt at dramatic eti'ect ; but, on the contrary, it exem-
plifies the chaste taste of the .schools lie had just left, and
which, unfortunat(dy for the school of painting in France,
he so soon afterwards vitiated.

The town of Marseilles is clean and well built; foot-
pavements line almost every sti'cet ; and agreeable prome-
nades, or roiirSy as they are called, enliven and beautify the
town. These cou/\s are long, oj)eu scpiares, planted with
trees on each side, with a smooth and level ])romeuade in

MARSEILLES — CHAPEL OF THE VIRGIN. 65

the middle, the carriage-way running between the trees and
the houses. In an evening some of these cours, especially
the Grand Cours, present a gay and amusing sight. It is a
kind of continual fair : both sides of the promenade are
lined with stalls, where a long file of voices incessantly
repeat, a dix, ct treize sous la boutique^ similar to " fe tout
pour vingtnnnq** of Paris ; whilst minstrels, and songsters,
and jugglers, enliven and vary the scene.

Near the Cours Bourbon, in the Rue de Paradis, there is
a handsome fountain, ornamented with an Ionic column of
grey granite, surmounted by a finely executed statue of an
infant Genius, by Chardine. This clever artist died lately in
Paris miserably poor ; for, like our landscape-painter Wilson,
he drank what he gained by his chisel, and only worked
when driven to it by necessity. On the top of the column
on the hi]l facing this cours there formerly stood a statue of
Bonaparte, by the same able sculptor ; but it was dismounted
and broken to pieces at the restoration. You ascend to this
column by a walk winding in alternate diagonals on the side
of the rock, whose scabrous brow yields but scanty footing to
the evergreens planted to adorn it. On reaching the upper
promenade you have an excellent panoramic view of the town
and harbour; but to enjoy this in perfection it is necessary
to ascend much higher, where three or four paltry shrines
lead to the chapel of the Holy Virgin, built oh the very
summit of the rock. Attached t6 this is a signal-tower ; and
from where the ensign-staff stands, the eye ranges over a
varied and extensive prospect, bounded on the north by the
distant mountains, and toward the sea by the blue segment
of the horizon formed by the Mediterranean ; the three little
islands, known to the ancients by the names of Prote, Mese,
and Hypea, appearing at your feet. Herds of goats browse
round the rock, and you so overtop the ocean that it seems
to require but one short leap to plunge amongst its waves.
Marseilles exposes her dun and sun-burnt walls immediately
below; while the villas of the more opulent of its inhabitants,
strewed in the background, lead the eye to the dusky moun-
tains which hem in this ant-like microcosm.

no >rAn'^rii.rrs — i:x-votos.

On <I('-"C'1mI1iio' fVorii \ho si^'nnl-po^t to the cbapel-steps, I
f<.iiii.l fi irnialc in niournin'^-, with lu-r little dauirliter, kneel-
iiiLi" in i)rayur ont.-idc x>rtlie ^riite — the disconsolate widow of
>r)ii)(' >Iiij»\vj'<'cked mariner, pei'lnips. I cast a glance throiiirh
the i:rate in pa^-ing-, and perceived the walls covered with
c.i-rohfs, all (^f tlieni re[)reseniinL:; some fViuhtful situation at
sea — a ship (li-ma>t(^d, with tJie sea hreakinir over her decks
- -anolhri- ill di-fress, with a tremendons swell rannincr, a
\iolinl L^ah', and a h'e->hoi'e. Sneh ('r-rat<}s were eonimoii
in tcniph'S in aneicnl timrs, wlienc»^, the words of Juvenal:

TIic c.r-rnfns of tlic l^omisli chnrch ai"e ofpaijfan ori«^in,
and, lik<' many ollici- of the rites and customs of idolatry,
wcic admillcd and continued hv the first converts to Chris-
lianity, the more readily to reconcile tli(^ (ientiles to the new
liiith. \\'(* have the histi'al water which was placed at the
entrance of the anci(Mit temple"^ preservcnl in the holv water
r>flh<> Roman ( 'atholic sei'vice : iVeiiuentlv, on entcrin«i^ their
eliurchc^, the a^p(■l•^^Illnn is |)re<ent('d to you : their proces-
sion- are a eonlinuanc*' of tlio-e of ])au*an time>; and even
}iHi:l,titi.,ii i- pi'aeti-i<l In ci I'taln ])laces, as we shall shortly
ha\ (' occasion to notice.

'J'he cr-rolos of mo(h'rn ]M>lvlh(.'ism come chietlv under
tlie desci*ij»lion of tlios(^ denominated fnhnJ:r pnfrp hx the
ancients, in uliicli tlie pnrt di.-rased is rej^resi nted on a
])ainting', oi* in wax, now I'e-tored to lu^alth l)y the u^oodness
ol'the llolv \ irti'in, or of some? saint or martyr. Pausaiiias
(/// ( 'ori/tf/ndcts) tiives an accomit of the temple of .-Escuh'ipius
in Epidaurus, and ])articularly nunitions the votive tahulrp in
it. *^ l^ila- vero," stiys he, '' intra and)itum priscis teniporibus
nudta' steterunt, e (piihus sex U'tate mea reli(pue. In iis
viroruni et fceminarum, (pue a deo cm'ata^ sunt, noniina in-
cisa, morhoruui etiani (juo quis«[ue lahorarat: addita est
curationis ratio. Scripta vero sunt omnia Dorica lingua."
It is in allusion to this i)ractice that TibuUus (lib. i. el. 3)
n^es the words —

" Nunc, l)oa, nunc siiccuroro iiiilii ; nam posso mederi
l*irt;i dooct trnipli'^ niulta lal»i.'IIa tins."

VOTIVE TABLETS. 67

Votive tabul€B were sometinies merely written inscriptionB,
and hence called tabulcB scriptca. At other times these ex"
votos were both painted and inscribed^ and hence denomi-
nated tabuUs pict(B et scripttB, The following, of the first
description, were found in the Templum IWerinum of Nacor
lapiosy written in Ghreek, which, as illustrating the subject,
may be thus translated : —

I.

^* At this Hme^ to one Caius who was hlindy the oracle
made answer, * I'hat approaching the altar , he should pay his
adorations to the divinity ; that he should then go from right
to left, and, placing his fingers on the altar, he should with-
draw them, and apply them to his eyes:* and forthwith he
recovered his sight ; a large assemblage of the people being
present, who with him were glad and rejoiced because of this
efficacious and excellent manifestation of the divine power,
which was evinced (for by divine grace such wondrous effects
were produced) in the days of our. most gracious emperor
Antoninus.

II.

** To the pleuritic son of one Lucius, of whose recovery
every body despaired, the god delivered this oracle : ' Tfiat he
should go to tlie altar, and from thence take the ashes, and
having mixed them with wine, he should apply them to his
side ;' and he became whole, arid publicly returned his grateful
acknowledgments to the gods. The people rejoiced with him
and were glad.

III.

" To one Juiianus, who had a spitting cf blood, and of
wham all despaired, the oracle of .^Ssctdapius counselled him
thus : * That approaching the altar, and taking from thence
tfie cones of the pine, he should eat them, mixed with honey,
for three days:' and his health being restored, he returned
thanks to the god in presence of tke people."

Tomaskrus {de Donariis Veterum) records the following

()S VOTIVE TABLETS.

atfLCtioiiate, ilion.r]i mutilated inscription, wliich appears to
have been in^crilied under a hilfhi j'ictd : —

I'l ij . -Al I IT .
;i I I 1 . \ i N ( iM t .

i II r.l . T'l : < l-'^IM L .

; 1. L u I r . ^ I .1 .
1 \; ll: AM . II \N( . m.u:m .

< I \I . -K \i» . .V-(. i I Vl'l .

I \ . >n.\: \i I , A l■^:^'\ 1 : 1 ^ ■
1 . \ aI i:n II - . « \pi :<) .
\ri> . A> N

L'. ■« r r . ^I. 1). r. i>.

liiit pcrliii}'- til.' nic^r sinuular, thnnuli certainly not tlu-
ni')^t dccoi'ou^, ai'e tlic votive lines to Pi-iai)n5, bcLrinning,

'■ C^ii' pictiua iii'.;ii«>ri Mt in labt IKi

Tlie 'j,-r)()il accruing" iVom tliis custom was ^jreat ; for not
only the di-e;i-e and ii- niean^ ot' cure wei-e connnemorutod,
hut sonietiino al>o tln^ conipvxition of the medicine >vas de-
scrihcd, and divei*< suiirical instalments were dedicated in
the like mannei'. Ij'a^i-triitus cau-ed a tooth-instrumeiit. to
he hmi'j: up in the temple of Apollo at Delphi, as we learn
irom O.elius Aui-elianus: a medicinal ])la.-ter was f(3und in
the; t(.'mple of \ nlcan at Mem])]iis, and continued lom:; in
I'epute : a c.ollvi'ium \mi> (li-co\rr(Ml in the temple of Diana
at l''])hesus, as r«lated hv Aitiu<: and IMinv mentions the
tlieriaca uhith Antioclm^, kiie'" of Svria, u^ed aiiainst the
hitci of serpents, the compo.-ilion (jf \Alnch was inscribed on
stone in tin; temph', of ,l'.scuhi]>ius iu (\.)>^ the native place
of Hippocrates. h'rom >indi a ca>tom a kno\vledi;'e of the
nature and cui(i of di>ea-es ^rot abroad, accnnudatin<j; as new
facts came to lii^ht. \\ bat, then, was moi'e natural, or more
eoni;('nial with the kindhest feelini;s of the heart, than to
considerate places and tem[)h'S to the divinity of lu-alth, and
ennd tlie observations of experience as statutes of medical
science? How diH'erent i> the practice in modern days!
Some scare-crow of a saint takes all the merit of the cure :

MARSEILLES — THE MUSEUM. 69

yet the continuance of the practice shews the inveteracy of
habit, and what a tendency there is in all ages towards appro-
priating and even sanctifying the same ceremonies^ whatever
change the religious tenets of mankind may underg6.

The Museum. — Marseilles, as we have said before, con-
tains no ruins of its ancient greatness, no temples, schools,
circuses, or gymnasia, although that such existed is recorded
on inscriptions and on medals which remain. Before the
destructive times of the Revolution, many columns, tombs,
bas-reliefs, and inscriptions, were preserved, which have now
disappeared : the abbey of St. Victor also contained curious
monuments of all ages, and the few that have again been
found are now placed in the museum. Among these the
traveller will find in an ante-room the following remains of
Greek and early Christian monuments : —

A votive marble Tripod, which an inscription on it, in
Greek, tells us was consecrated by Sosimikos, son of Evagoras,
to Serapis, Isis, and Anubis.

A beautiful Greek Altar, ornamented with garlands of
fruits and flowers, which had served, as the inscription would
indicate, for a pedestal to a statue.

The Tomb of Glaucias. This monument was found, in
1799, under the ruins of the abbey of St. Victor. It is about
five feet and a half high, and must have stood upright, sur-
mounted probably by a bust. On it is an inscription in
Greek, and the fine feeling it expresses reminds us of P^re
la Chaise. It may be rendered thus : —

*^ This is the tomb of Glaucias. His young son has con-
secrated this monument of his filial piety to his memory,
which he had evinced from his earliest infancy.

*^ Unfortunate Glaucias! It hath not been given you
long to enjoy the sight of your son. He would have given
thee, not a tomb, but support and consolation in thy old age.
Jealous Fate hath treated thee harshly, my father! She
hath reserved affliction and tears for a mother sinking under
the burden of years, widowhood to a disconsolate wife, and
the loss of a beloved father to an unhappy orphan."

TO MARSEILLES THE MUSEUM.

Aiiioul: the other monuniciifs are several ancient Christian
-lU'.'oi'hau'i : one «'f ham. M\n of St. \'ictor, who died in
lt>4^. Ai:v.»ther of St. luK-i in, an abbess of Cassianite nuns,
u^ «'!il as "the tit'rh or <i\th ctiitiii-v.

From this //'v/. ■</->'/'/< a door open? into the Gallery of
PAiNri\<,<. There are one hundred and thirtv-live in all.
eoniprisiiiu" several by the tirst masters of the Italian and
other schools : two or three of which uiv limits will onlv
j^erniit me to notice.

No. 114 is a paintin;: by Raphael, and represents St.
ious WRITING ruE Afocalypse. ^eated on an eao-le in the
cloud-, the holv evanutli-t looks ui) to heaven with the
sul>hme, entranced eye of one in a vision. He holds a tablet
in his left hand, and in his ri^ht a iien. Tlie colourinir is
bold and rich. A mountainous landscape is beneath, and
the spires of a distant city form the Hnks of communicatioa
Ix^tween the two scenes al>ove and below.

Xo. lOl marks the Gtakdian xAx.el, by Domenichino.
llie ;uii:el has hold of a boy by tlie hand, and points the way
to hejiven. A ray of li'j:ht enters from the left of the picture,
and di^(•overs a cro>s, the enddem of faith in Him crucified.
This conception uive^ line etfect to the picture, and tlie whole
is pjiint(?d with <^reat sweetness and beauty.

No. n^) is a paintiuL^ by Hannibal Caracci : the subject,
David wirii the Head of (uh.iatii. This picture is conspi-
cuous for the astoiii>h)nL:; vkill displayed in the distribution of
th(! li;z'ht and sluide, wbicdi ij:iv<'s an imposing reality that at
once dechires th(i utmost nuistcry of art.

No. 27 repic-cnt^ tlir ( 'okonation of the A^irgin by
the infant ,)esus, and i^ r^trcmrd tlie chcf-d'cvurre of Pierre
Parrocel. The tone of colouring;' is extremely rich and har-
monious, and it is nlfo'jTflMr n paintint;- of infinite merit.

ISO. !)! excMiiplifles \\\v extraordinary imagination and
impressive pencil of ( "arava;iL::io. 'I'Ih; subject is aPiETA, sup-
ported by angels, and depicts force without grace, revolting
reality, undeniabh? fidelity lo Iriilb, and nature without charm
or attraction. Hut, with all these (pialilies, I never can help
thinking that, when an able artist beslows his attention and

TOULON. 71

talents on the representation of a disagreeable subject, it is
throwing away both unworthily, for, at best, its beauties are
as the blossoms of a weed.

No. 119, which you see on the ceiling, represents The
Apotheosis of the Magdalen, by Philippe de Champagne.
The tone of colouring of this painting is very peculiar, it so
approaches wax-work in appearance. The drawing is exceed-
ingly correct, which is remarkable in particular in the fore-
shortening of the figure of the Magdalen, observing whom,
as she ascends over your head, your modesty gets alarmed
lest you should see too much. An angel bears her up on his
pinions without any seeming effort ; and the composition of
the accompanying group of angels and cherubim is managed
with great skill and effect.

But it is time to stop, else I shall never have done with
Marseilles. Suffice it to refer to the names of Paul Veronese,
Groido, Rubens, Carlo Maratta, and others, fully given in the
catalogue at the end of the work, to convey to the reader an
idea of the value of this collection.

In the rooms above is the public Library, which is at all
times freely open to strangers, as well as the Museum.

There is a country-house of a wealthy Marseillese by the
sea-side, and not far from Marseilles, containing paintings,
which I went to see ; but the wind blew so fresh from the
sea, that the blinds before the windows could not be opened
without endangering the glass.

I set out to-morrow for Nice, impatient to get into Italy.

TOULON.

The temperature of locality is passing strange. The
distance betwixt this place and Marseilles is short, the dif-
ference of latitude trifling, and yet the climate is sensibly
more mild. About two miles before reaching Toulon there
19 a little village, snugly placed in a hollow, and in every
garden the orange-trees appea? ed to groan under their golden
treasure. I did not visit Hyeres, but passed within a few
miles of it ; and although it was but yet the first day in

- o

ANCILNl KlINS.

I . m A »

•K.:: :...;. 1 -..-^ _..' it :.-;♦.;;> in t'Liil bloom — a proof of the

^'\,.: ::...'.--- : :i_ 0.1::.;.*^' of tliis neiL:hlK)urliood. Con-

::;.:.. ..v..... :' ». ^r ^^-:\:. 1 rtrniinates at Luc, in the

.:iL lv:v. vt:. A.\ :•.:.■! Mce. Befin'o coming to the

\:.i.._L .1' i\:_».:. I ^.iw li.e cork-trc^ throwing for the

:: i> :L.\'. 1 c\trv ti.ird voar, and outwaixUv it
• • • «^

-<t:i.t i :;> :: :: :.:. 1 icti. |'iuhed over — seared, as it were,
•..i\:' li.e . v't :-a:i. I. ; bui ilii? is its natural appearaiice.

l"..> > 111- i\i:'.':c:.; r-'T'ini Julii. formerly a sea-port,
i...M_l; !iv'\\ -v\rM.! iMU-- f:v'ni tlie "^t-'H. It otfers a sinixular
-; iv'MvK uf Li i-'Nnil vi.>i.vrt ! bv liit ocean, like the marine
«-!... 11- il.a! ari' -. m.riiias foiii.d on a mountain. They
-;rs ih.' rl:.^-' C'l:- to nnIiIcIi ilie -iii; ^'In^' ^vas fastened were
f'lM.ii-lx I'.' Ik r.t'u; ]> .: \-.;iliuiu Tlu■^e. there is still suthcient
in tile u'riurul a'|\et of ihe j'hice itself to snl^stantiate that
it liail I nee Ixai a m a- port, inJepciuU-nt of the record of
Iii-rui'v.

Ikfv.re tuieriiiU" the town \ou i-a-s the iMiins of an ancient
auiphiilu atre on ihr h U. It i.- oi' the usual elliptical form,
fici J ^^ilh -null sioiies cut in the ^hapl' antl size of bricks.
( )n the other side of ilie lown you r^ei^ \vl\at i- now called the
Purti- J)(iri,. It had hot u a ^r.teway, which opened on the
port. .Vnioiii;- the ruins {){ ihis j)oridi a tine luad of Ju[)iter
was cU-interred, n(;w to he ^^ in in tlie wall which borders
one side of tlie pul)lic pronu'naih\ But the most consider-
al»le remains are the ruins of an aqurduct on the I'oad to
(.'annes. This aqueduct consists 01' h»fly sinule arches, the
i)iers between which are sti'cniithened bv abutments on both
sides. It makes a straniie turn to the riLilit, out of the 11a-
tui'al level, windini:: its way on the heights in the direction of
tlie amphitheatre. Was this to sup[)ly the ai'eiui with water,
andconveit it into a naumachia occasionally, and yet serve
ordinarily to convey water to the town for usual domestic
pui'poses .'

It was in the ])ay of l'r(jus that Bonaparte landed on

ROUTE TO NICE. 73

the dth of October, 1799, on deserting the army in Egypt^
breaking the quarantine laws, posting to Paris, and over-
turning the Directory. Sixteen years afterwards he made
a neighbouring spot, between Antibes and Nice, the Rubicon
of a second enterprise, when he landed from Elba.

Leaving these ruins on the Jeft, the road traverses a plain,
slightly varied by inequalities for two or three leagues, when
it begins to climb over a mountain of considerable height,
jutting into the sea.

As the different strata of rocks which present themselves
in the ascent may interest the geological traveller, I will
enumerate them in the order in which they appeared. Be-
fore the road begins to ascend we meet with patches of grey-
wacke distributed about, close to which lie old red sandstone,
and blue and red clay. The road now begins to quit the
plain, and, ascending over limestone, you next come to a
stratum of porphyry composed of white and pink-coloured
parts, soft and friable in their texture. Higher up still, I was
agreeably surprised to fall in with numerous veins of beau-
tiful jasp-agate intersecting a bed of greywacke. The jasper
occupied the centre of the vein, and flowed in a straight line
through a matrix of silex. The wacke had a vesicular
appearance, from the crystals it had contained becoming de-
composed. Above this lay a stratum of limestone, so altered
that it appeared as if half burnt. Next came a conglomerate,
composed of portions of mica, quartz, and gneiss ; and the
whole was covered by a thick bed of porphyry, forming
the summit of the mountain. Here there is a small auberge,
where I rested myself; for after so many excursive offsets to
the right and left, in pursuit of specimens of each varying
rock, I was somewhat fatigued. The ascent may be about
four miles; and, on looking back, the view of Frejus in the
distance, of its open, shallow, retreating bay, and of the
country which intervenes between the eye and the distant
horizon, all combine to form a fine landscape effect. As I sat
drinking some indifferent wine, conversing with '' mine host,
and packing up my specimens in paper, I have reason to
believe, from what I learned, that the neighbouring moun-

i

99

Til

I « "i —

;;"•..• .'.'"■ "'t-

'•rn;ill 'j\ 'i ...'• 1 . :.':\r. '.v •.

"♦ :1 '"^-^l 'v 1^

fi«-d ; -t.il l'>.''^'r. I (^t:i.^' M- "■« r '. v-v . :' i 1 :_:L>* r.^:: colour,

Iforn Hi'- j»rrfloiiiiriari<:»r of ','. ick :..i'M :: C' :::.\::i-:d, :i:. i itripeil

InclMfl rnn--^-'. of porij}i\r\' 1 tv r^rvu^-il a'».'i', a< thov had
(idirn frorii tin: IkI'/Ii^- rd^ove : i.^xt t:> tlio-f^:- cair.n' iilit'mate
lnv<i'' of 'M»i'ni^h fhiv find irne:-^. the t'Tiii-.r tv:dr!i*!v r^eiii'j
»M»llmii'. •I'- tli;iii tlw crii' :-' d' <''>:n; • '»- 1. the ::/.o:"» • t* v» hioh
\> II : 'lill nj»j»:iMiit III thr, lufj--. Iliilu^-«i:>t:'-LV 1>.,;'V t:-c two
Iii.;t riiiiM' I'liii- , ill ;i -l;»tr, (A ]>»-;i:j <!• <:•.':;.'"•. -^t--.;. T^y this
liiiir I IiihI "',1 II. ;iil\ to iIh" fo'jt of tl;- ir,> ''i^Laiii, iv.:.! as the

tniiil iiiii ImmI iIm- '••!>, iIh* r-niall a-o»jriil::._:s ai.d lusoend-

mj- •. 11 M "idm l\ II I hill III! 1 1 'J, -licucd hoili j'0'*i''-yry ail i ^'iieiss
|Milii||\ «|iIii|>mIiiI«-iI, lliiil i^, r<dijc'rd to the Statt- v( rvd aud

{'Mill r I r I y

'I Im> .l.rliNily nnu lMi':in liii|M'r(T|it IMv to loso itsolf ill the
urn, lirn- ilir roiid ii riil llnoii-li <_in<'i>s of, comparatively
MprnlxMi!'. \»»v innilriii foriimlinn, rr-lhi"iiic'd, ill tact, troiil
tlir eoimmimhd iimh riid of tlic old, small-grained, very
frifiMe, r-lnililird, nviIIi liir;T Miimotli nodules of gneiss of a
niueli older runnntinn, luid Inner hardier sort, embedded

in it.

A *»treani of wnlrr run iil iIm- holloni of the mountain.
•'^..-.. u;m iio l»rid|.'r iieroM.j ii ; hut a man was there as a
^la-e- ianriini, wlio M;uinrd a mi.-»rnililr liveliliood hy carrying

•tr i-^vfarini^ pnHHeni^er over on Ins l»aek ; so 1 mounted,
X ta '-^:.•'x. mineiaU, and nil, mid was sjifdy conveyed across

.. '\ '* y '/» Asnu*^ Kill'

CANNES — ANTIBBS — NICE. 75

On the other side of the stream the road winds round a
marshy flat, which the encroachment of time has gained
from the sea ; and on doubling a small point of land, the
traveller eomes all at once on the little village of Cannes.
The post-house^ situated at the entrance of the town, is the
first you meet. Here I hung out for the nighty somewhat
latigued by my delightful idling; and, after a temperate
dinner^ or supper, call it which you like, I retired to rest,
and was quickly hilled to sleep by the drowsy plashing of
the waves that broke in monotonous succession under my
window.

By this time I had attained the habit of awaking with
the sun; and ere he could well shake the brine from his
dripping locks, I had slung my knapsack on my back, and
begun to trudge merrily on to Antibes, where ^e road runs
so close to the beach that it binds the shore of the Mediter-
ranean like a fillet.

Antibes is a small fortified town, with a still smaller
harbour, which is well protected by a line of embrasures on a
level with the water, as well as by its narrow and shallow
entrance. But it is a port quite contemptible, in a com-
mercial point of view, unless France should ever be blockaded
by the Lilliputians.

About midway between Antibes and Nice, a small stream,
which' we cross on a wooden bridge, separates the territories
of France and Sardinia, and here it is you undergo the usual
ordeal of the police ; but if your papers are *' all over right,"
as the knackers express it, the gensdarmes are passing civil*

NICE.

'' Long life to your honour, if you die to-morrow,"
is a well-known Irish benison. Now that I am at Nice,
I feel as if the Spanish salutation, *' May you live a thousand
years,'* was to be fulfilled in my proper person, were I to stay
but long enough, or to believe cM that ia said ofity according
to which the longevity of Methuselah ought no longer to be

76 NOTRB DAME DE LA OAI.

considered an anomaly, for here people (they say) are sure of
becoming immortal— beyond the grave!

Full of this consolatory persuasion, I walked out to the
fine, terraced promenade by the sea-beach, where I found
the Mse blowing so keen and cold, that I, with lungs strong
enough to sound the last trump, could not refrain from
coughing. This devil of a wind is sharp enough to shave a
sapeuTy or put a fresh edge on his hatchet ; that which I ex-
perienced at the Pont du Gard was a mere whittle to it. Next
day it was altogether as. hot ; and invalids, to encounter such
extreme transitions, ought to have their chest lined inside
with sheet iron, and their pulmonary exhalations worked by
steam; — and yet this is a residence recommended to those
whose hollow lungs already reverberate the echo of death !
Were it not for these sudden variations of temperature, Nice
would be a desirable retreat for the invalid : its situation on
the sea-shore is delightful ; its promenade unique ; the orange-
tree bears abundantly in the open air ; and the breeze blow-
ing from the sea tempers the excessive heat of the warmer
months.

After getting my passport regulated, I left Nice to walk
by the shore of the Mediterranean to Genoa ; and I had
proceeded a considerable way on the road to Turin before
I discovered that I had mistaken the route. As I knew that
I could not get wrong in directing my steps to the sea, I
crossed the country by a rough and stony mountain footpath,
and by chance came to the chapel of Notre Dame de la Gai.
This is a place in high repute all round the country for a
miraculous image of the Virgin it possesses, and to which an
annual pilgrimage is made, where crowds of devotees flock to
be cured of their different infirmities. The blind and maim
of all descriptions walk in procession to the chapel, and there
pass the night, something after the manner of the ancient pagan
incubations, making all sorts of noises ; at one time praying
and beseeching the holy Virgin of la Gai to work their cure ;
at another, abusing her with all their might, according as
their faith may ebb or flow. When the miracle is accom-

CATHOLIC AND PAGAN INCUBATION. 77

plishedy which it is sure to be on some knave or fanatic of
the party, shouts of joy from all sides announce the mira-
culous visitation. The favoured miserable is now mounted
on the shoulders of the most effective of the disabled assembly,
and borne to his home in exultant, triumphal procession.

This chapel, before the time of the French revolution,
was enriched with numerous valuable ex-votos presented by
devotees to whose wishes the numen of la Gai had been pro-
pitious ; in particular, it possessed an infant Jesus of solid
gold, presented, to adorn the Vii^in's shrine, by a certain
queen, who, at the instance of Notre Dame, like another
Sarah, conceived and bore a child at the age of sixty. But
in the sacrilegious march of revolutionary pillage, the enfant
d'oTf with many other precious ex-votosy vanished.

This is the practice formerly alluded to as a relict of the
ancient pagan custom of incubation still existing in a modified
state in some of the Romish observances.

The term incubation, amongst the ancients, meant the
lying down of the sick in a temple on the skin of an animal
sacrificed, as a means of seeking health from the god to whom
the temple was dedicated. The temples of the Greeks and
Romans were crowded with ^[incubantes," and the practice
is alluded to by the poets of both nations. Aristophanes, in
his comedy inscribed Plutus, feigns this god lying down in
the temple of ^sculapius at Epidaurus, and thus being cured
of his blindness (Act ii. scene iii. v. 410). Here also it is
that Plautus places his pimp: — ** Hie Leno segrotus incubat
in .£sculapii fano." Epidaurus was a city of Agria, in the
Peloponesus, famous for the temple of .£sculapius. There
was another fane sacred to this god in the island of Cos,
which Strabo mentions: ** in suburbio ^sculapii est cedes,
celebre admodum^ et multis danariis plenum" He likewise
speaks of the temple of Serapis, of that of Pluto and Proser-
pine, and of the cave of Charonius, as celebrated for the
incubation of the sick.

It was necessary for those about to propitiate the numen
to undergo certain ablutory rites before entering the sanctuary,
which, when considered in a therapeutic view, will shew how

78 PAOAM INCUBATION.

probable it was that by such a preparation many diaeaaes
might be by this alone alleviated; but the object they had
to attain by such prefatory rites was to excite to salutary
dreams : they abstained from meat and drink for some days^
a practice still observed by the vulgar in our own country oa
St. Agnes' eve when they wish to dream of their lovers ; bat
the reason of the abstinence of the incubans was, that he
might render himself more worthy of his expected commerce
with the god. They sacrificed rams and dieep, and lay upon
their skins^ thus more assuredly confiding that the deity
would not be wanting. Pausanias tells of this> in Attieisj
lib. i. cap. 34 ; and Virgil alludes to the practice in the fol-
lowing el^ant lines (^neid, lib. vii» v. 85) : —

" Hinc Italse gentes omnisque CEnotria tellus
In dubiis responsa petunt : hue dona sacerdos
Quum tulity et casarum avium sub nocte silenti
Peliibus incuhiit ttraiis^ tomnosque petivit.^

Incubation might be performed either by the patient him*
self, or the priest belonging to the temple might do it for
him, and the relief sought was written down and placed upon
what the incubans lay. The visions or dreams were of various
kinds : either the things about to come to pass appeared, or
certain images or symbols of them, or else the god himself
uttered the oracle to the incubans in his sleep. Of this last
kind ^lianus gives us an example in Aspasia, who, when
given up by her physicians, was cured of a swelling on her
chin by Venus appearing to her in her sleep. Suetonius tells
a miraculous and strange story concerning the Emperor Ves-
pasian being besought by one blind, and another who was
lame, to spit on this one's eyes, and to touch the other with
his heel, and they would be made whole, for such had been
communicated to them by Serapis in a dream : the credulous
author adds, " nee eventus defuit.'* Even the sagacious
Tacitus relates, with apparent faith in its truth, the same
profane tale. But do not let us, of a later and more enlight-
ened day, sneeringly smile ; for superstitious credulity is not
wholly the weakness of an ignorant age, else Prince Hohen-

MENTONE — MON ACO. 79

loCy Johanna Southcotey and animal magnetism, would nerar
have had Buch a herd of believers and proselytes. But there
is a certain quantity of insanity always floating about in
society, ready to catch hold of the prevalent absurdity of the
day; and it is fortunate for the more rational portion of
mankind when it expends itself on subjects that are harm«>
less, no matter how ridiculous they may be. — Mais a nos
moutons.

A paved pathway, the route of the annual pilgrimage, led
from the valley where the chapel stands, and I r^;ained the
proper road by the sea-shore near La Tourbia. Hence to
Mentone is one uniform descent, and I slept in the capital of
the smallest principality in Europe.

Monaco (Monflecus) is a very ancient territory, and is
mentioned both by Virgil and Lucan. . They tell a story of
one of our migratory countrymen who happened to offend
the mighty little potentate of this mighty little state. The
prince ordered him to quit his dominions in twenty-four
hours. The Englishman immediately ordered post-horses,
and sent word back to say that he would be out of them
in less than two.

Between La Tourlna and Mentone the limestone rock is
so hard as to make mill-stones. Just as you leave the latter,
and dose to the beach, you see sandstone in strata nearly
vertical penetrating horizontal sandstone, and, quitting the
latter, they run and lose themselves .in the sea. The road
now begins to ascend, and you again see some of these ver-
tical strata intersecting a conglomerate rock. Its position,
both here and below, bears out the conjecture that the per-
pendicular strata are the older formation, which were after-
wards encompassed by sandstone and conglomerate of a
much later date, and deposited when the sea occupied a
much higher level. If this opinion be correct, judging from
the height of the conglomerate, the sea must have fallen at
least three hundred feet — a difference of elevation that would
set Frejus afloat again.

The road still continues to ascend by the sides of the
mountains, and follows the varied windings of the coast,

so

::nt:m:<~:/ v.

I * A <*■ 4 k ft.^

■' 1

• . ' '

«. -I

\- ^e-l ,w yo'i. You pass lime-
' ^'-.r. ■\'^-o%-r wliioa vou meet

'V::.^ -'i •!: '.^ S'.iijalar oru-niiic
.':-. \^ !i :. T . rt*. or, ilu/v reseinMe
■> T'v :.: -iizt' : ill wri.-n v.cred on bv

at T:i-::' e'l_'-. .\""i'. 'i.j - ^ ' « si'r -i v'.!!;i_>» u 'lioli overhancTS
t^^^ r-vil, \ .':i ^'»-«::i t^-iii !. ':-"i<'e...l, v ri:.;!i c'^iitiiuies till
V'>'i oiiie ^.» \ •rivrii'^'i: I. Il'.ro "ilio earriijL-r-'ad o<'ases, and
tli^; ^ravt:ll«.T liji-r 11 ''-v I r'-o.»'l r'.r'.ior 'TI !<v^t or on a mule.
Ti.t.^ l-.rid^t; \"': <.'r -- '-n I'. av-nr \ » uri-i.i^-lia i^ a cir'.ositv
ot" i^- k::;:!, 1'" '- ^:: ^ ) i..^e:'<'o!:':,'LLl a sfnicruro. It is enJ-
l'-— Iv Ion.- : r.a:-;-o'-v i-^ M.i'..- m-_''s l»:"iii_-o t:<at leacU to the
♦•l'.-:iii:i '.t'tli»- I]"i:i: !.>> t'.v > -irchos are alike, and tlitdr ares
iiVf of -:i :li \;'ri' 'i- -^ m-, tkat v.-u cro-.-. as it were, on the
hjirk' r,!* ;i -iice^'-'i -ii < -f dri )mMla j-ie-^. ^evrral of these had
friHe:i, mil \.\\ ^•■. 1: r^-'-'iirLd w'^h wo d, in so trairile a
manner a- CMiild ii'-r l-.it r-'inliid rlie pa'j-enj;er of what Lord
lUroiJ sriv- of the ' ^'rij; o* IkdL:"u\\ rv :' and

T)

rln'js frMiii f-ar to f-ar at e\rrv trt''.:.hlinL: «^tt p y«^u take.

'i'uo niih- and a h-lftVuni tiie hi'id'je nf \'rntinui;lia von
j)a-- a liainht uhieh, fi'<.ni havin-j.- a eu-toni-Iiou-e, appeared
to he appendaircd to a town innnrdiat«dy on the heiuht ahove.
1 notice thi-? place nn'ivly to indicate that ai>i>ut two hundred
j)aces from it the ireoloLxist may oh-er\ e a peculiar species of
HandstoiH!, of evidcntlv very modern f )rniation, alternatinii'
with otlicr strata of the sanu^ material, where, from the
ma;r"itn(le of the parti(des of which it i> composed, it ap-
i)roac}if's in its a[)pearancj* a coni:lomerate of granular tpiartz
aL''^h]tinated hy a cjuai'tzo-e* cement. The ?mall-j;:rained is
hard and comj):ict ; tin* larger, ai:ain, is nnich more fi'iahle
when (letach(!d in piecr-s, yet j)erfectly S(did in the mass.
IJoth kinds are situated ahout a hundred and hfty feet ahove
the present level of the ocean, an<l may be noted as another
proof of the sinking of the Mediterranean. The smaller-
}^n-ain(ul sort encloses nodules of this limestone rock of the

SAN REMO SAN MAURIZIO — ALASSIO. 81

distant mountains. Here the palm-tree grows in great per*
fection amidst groves of olive-trees. Four miles farther I
came to the village of Ospitaletto ; and one league farther
brought me to San Remo, where I halted for the night.

On turning the point of land which gives a first view of
San Remo, observe sandstone alternating with thin layers of
limestone, standing almost vertically on their edges. In the
way I met a lady of respectable appearance and her three
pretty daughters going ventre a terre^ mounted cL la four-
chette on as many mules. It seemed the ordinary manner
for females to ride in this part of the country, and they
appeared no way conscious of its singularity in the eyes of
a stranger.

Between San Remo and Port San Maurizio the road is
abominable in bad weather, and it rained so piteously, that,
when I arrived at the latter, it had driven me nearly
* donart,' as they express it in my country: indeed, the
entire way from Nice to Grenoa deserves nothing less than
to be stuck into the '' Commination," and there lustily
anathematised.

My next halt was at Alassio, a town meriting no remark
unless for its wretchedness, and the squalid and ill-favoured
appearance of its inhabitants. Indeed^ the whole of this coast
seemed to me to be inhabited by the unadulterated descend-
ants of those barbarians who invaded Italy as early as the
days of the first Tarquin, and whom the Romans never after-
wards thought it worth their while to drive out again. Their
dress, even to this day, is the same as that of the Laplanders
and other northern nations inhabiting the shores of the
North Sea. They still wear a sort of great-coat with a hood
to it, the original, in my opinion, of the present cowl of
the capuchin monks ; and their features are so peculiarly
ugly, that, whilst none of their females are pretty even
when young, their old women surpass in hideousness the
hags in Macbeth.

• On leaving the suburbs of Alassio, you mount a very steep
ascent, and meet again with conglomerate, but with this
curious singularity, that small veins of calcareous spar traverse

G

^2 \: : y> -a — 7:na: j: — nolli.

• < . ^ » ^

. '. > ' .

•J '^

i'rt .:' is ooniposed chietiy
l.AVt? _\i:i.L'.l the heiirht,

.1 li. : i:::a::i breaks upon
:' II o'-.j-pt:-! in ruins. In
:!.tr o;T>'^ruiuitv of stHaip^^
.\ 1 'W^r vl.wii, I came upon
,:.'i t' '.ia^td in its lonn, of
i ^. . -. c : ■. A-. : :" -«v . \-y v^.^s -f oalcaruous spar.
1' r • - . .- -./.-• :.'. . 'a!/:;'i v/a- a'.--> \r:i:td in the same
: .. :...•:•, :::..: y : :' 11 u ' . -1, d.^v- ; Al* t:nj:a.

V . :v :.....- ■.:.". .. :i.::-_- :^ Fiin^, you V-tuiu a-jain to

wl::, ':;-».! on linu -^t-'iie of a very
: ! . - - : : ; . 1 1 1 v^ i : : s <.> i ea 1 oa reous spa r
!..'»::._ ' — :. u :.-*... 1 «--■:: -.t'tr dcv.\ m:<osi:iun. Above this
lit- r :!o..'-'- el.'.v— l.irt- : a:. 1 h:z-<^'' s::li, v«>u nu'ot with a
• I\ -IvMi I'lii^ -* ^:it', :::'». r-co:- d ^' v \:\:':\\\A lint- of the cn-s-
t.ili'.-fd e..r'-'n;rt^ ^ f iimo, "fine if tlio >peeinien'i of which
ai'f \ ltv ]«:•« rrv, f-.-Mni the uTta: rt_:;;lari:v and eloseness of
tlit' intrrlint a:i'.>n.-. The ni«_'Unrain lu.'W terminates ahriiptly,
a:.d \--n <h-.^ nd aln;"-t a ]h r|^tn lio'ilar }'!•» oipiee, by eig:ht
/:u"-/-i'-:' dicunnii!:^, to Finak-. It ^^a-, perhaps, fn.mi the
f<.)i"nitM' in-uprra^ le nature of thi> piveipitons mountain, that
the t-iun iar:\t.d its name, by its oppu^in-j a /u j>hr< to the
lra\»'lltjr condu::" hitlirr from Cienoa.

Htnce t<.) -\ulli the nature of the roek e^'Uiinuis the ^ame.
In the route, vou pa?s under a ualliTy e.\ea\attd out of the
-')iid rock, eii:iitv-four yards h>n'j."' —

It was executed under Bonaparte, who, ind»'ed, was the
author of the whole route from VentimiLilla to (lenoa. Near
the "iiillery tliere is a cavern to be seen, tilled up with Hme-
^tonci noduh'S, fornun^r a conLilomerate in fact. 'Ihis, be-
yond all doubt, had once been on a level with the sea-beach :
ith form is exactly such as we observe in sindlar situations,

•• Tlii> u.tll* ly 1^ inucli tincr lli.ui any <>tllu»r 1 .itkiNNanl.s p.i-Ncd mulci,

111 ( inssiiij lliL' S|IIH*I()II.

CAEABINIERI — SHRINES BRIDGES. 83

and it must have been a battery of waves that had so im-
pacted it : another proofs if more be required, of the former
elevation of the Mediterranean above its present level. I
halted at Areneino ; and if I did not sleep on a bed of down^
I at least slept in agreeable company, for Mary Mags and
Madonnas hung round my pillow, but guarded, as bad luck
would have it, by an army of saints and martyrs. Next
day I arrived at Genoa by noon.

The carabinieri all along the coast keep up a degree of
surveillance, which is oftentimes annoying. I have fre-
quently been accosted by men, who, after civilly inquiring
if I was going to the next town, requested the honour of
keeping me company, on pretence of going my way. These
I at once perceived to be police out of uniform. I have
sometimes chaiged them with it, and got them to acknow-
ledge it, when I would allow them to walk with me, or
politely dismiss them, according as my humour ran. But a
traveller, and particularly a pedestrian, must put up with
these inconveniences, for the personal protection he obtains by
their vigilance. I was told by one of them, that, before the
time of Bonaparte, no traveller could pass along this coast
without the almost certainty of being murdered. Shrines to
the Virgin are erected every few miles, and particularly on
the centre arch of bridges. They are held in great reverence ;
and I could not help reflecting, as I saw scoundrels, by their
looks, devoutly take ofi^ their hats as they passed a Paris-
plaster cast of the culvocata peccatarum, how conscientiously
easy it must have been, in this country, to pass from an act
of adoration to one of assassination. These bridges, by the
way, are great bores to one that is wearied ; for most fre-
quently they are of one arch only, of considerable span,
describing a lofty semicircle, with nothing to lessen the
ascent or descent at either extremity : it is, in fact, like
climbing over the back of a corpulent hay-rick, with all its
monumental height, but none of .its gamesome softness.

84 GENOA THE CHURCHES.

GENOA,

Now no longer Grenoa the Superb. The wealth that
entitled it to the appellation has migrated to some freer
mart, and this once free republic — the birth-place of Co-
lumbus — is crippled by the fetters of despotism. The har-
bour is spacious and fine ; and though most of the streets of
Genoa are narrow, and the houses lofty, both are the cooler
for it during the intense heats of summer.

The Cathedral. — This fine church is dedicated to St.
Lawrence, whose martyrdom, in fresco, adorns the ceiling
of the choir. Observe the chapel of St. John the Baptist.
Handsome columns support a richly sculptured front ; and,
on the altar, the ashes of this saint are encased in a shrine of
gold, sustained by four columns of polished porphyry. The
sides are ornamented by eight statues of prophets : those of
Zacharias and Abacu are strikingly fiue. Remark also the
chapel of the Holy Sacrament, situated to the left of the
choir. The tabernacle stands under a beautiful temple of
white marble, by which two angels kneel. The sculpture of
this chapel is by one of the pupils of the graceful Canova.
In the choir, see a bronze statue of the Virgin and Child ;
and in niches in the sides, four grand statues <^ the Evan-
gelists, of divine expression. St. John the Baptist is the
patron saint of Genoa.

Adjoining the old ducal palace stands the Church of St.
Ambrose. This church is adorned with four remarlftble
paintings. The first, A Circumcision, by Rubens, occupies
the grand altar : the second is by the same great master, and
represents an Infant Angbl appearinq to St. Ionatiub,
the founder of the order of the Jesuits. In this painting
Rubens has introduced a portrait of himself and his wife.
The figure looking over Ignatius's shoulder is the artist.
The management, again, of the drapery of the female (his
wife) in front of St. Ignatius, is one of the most perfect and
extraordinary performances in the art of painting. Observe,
likewise, the singular position of another, who, in regarding

GENOA CHURCHES. 86

the infant messenger of Heaven, is forced to look perpen-
dicularly upwards ; but- such a conception as this durst be
attempted only by a perfect master.

The third is St. Francis Zavier preaching, by a
pupil of Gruido. The attitude of the preacher is noble, and
his expression sublime ; such as all those, whose duty it is,
should evince and feel in expounding the divine truths of
our fSeiith.

The last is An Assumption of the Virgin, by Gnido
himself. This painting beautifully exemplifies the divine
imagination of the artist; and here you have a Virgin, such
as the immaculate mother of God the Son ought to be de-
picted. In the midst of clouds, angels in choirs, each more
beautiftil than another, join hand in hand, and without the
least seeming of effort, they follow the Virgin to the skies'.
What purity there is in that divine forehead ! Her eyes,
radiant with celestial bliss, already pierce the heavens, and
repose on the bosom of the Divinity, who awaits her.

From Sant' Ambrogio I went to the S. S. Nunziata.
Churches in Italy are, to heretical eyes, more like theatres
than places of worship, adorned as they all are with the
richest gildings, beautiful marbles, and the most magical
productions of the painter's pencil. The mind, occupied by
such objects, has no place for the Divinity ; and instead of
diminishing the space which separates the creature from the
Creator, they make the distance more immense, and both
distract and divert our wish to draw nearer to his footstool.
I fm the truth of this remark forcibly on entering the Annun-
ziata; for its decorations, though soiled and faded, are of
the most splendid description. What adds to our wonder
on looking around, is to know that this' munificent temple
was erected aiid finished at the sole expense of one family —
the Lomellino.

Over the grand entrance you see a superb painting of
the Last Supper, by Paul Veronese. There are a few other
good paintings, among which I may point out—

A Flight into Egypt, with angels ministering to the
infant Christ ; and in a chapel opposite you see a St. Francis

86 GENOA — DURAZZO PALACE.

IN Ecstasy, before a crucifix ; unchaste perhaps in colouring,
but finely designed.

The ceiling is covered with frescos, some of which are
extremely beautiful ; in particular, I may point out the first
in the nave, exhibiting the coronation of the Virgin by God
the Father, in the presence of the whole host of heaven.

From the churches I went to visit the palaces ; but having
unfortunately lost the notes I made, I am only able to sketch
from memory the description of two or three in the Durazzo
Palace.

Among these, the traveller will see a fine delineation of
the Death of Cleopatra, by Paul Veronese. She holds the
asp to her bosom. The icy hand of death has already begun
to congeal the stream of life, yet you can still perceive in
her lovely countenance, pale and inanimate as it is, the traits
of those charms that held Anthony and Ceesar captive.

The Death of Seneca. — Seneca occupies, as the prin-
cipal subject of every good painting ought to do, the middle
of the canvass. He is half-undressed, standing with his feet
in a bath. As the blood flows, Seneca dictates to three
secretaries the ideas which pass through his mind, when
the hasty inroads of death suddenly stop them in their
course : his feet yield no more blood ; his body stiffens : by
the quivering motion of his lips, you perceive life is on the
wing : his look expresses some vague idea which he cannot
seize or articulate, and thus he expires. The secretaries,
again, exhibit the different expressions of interest, attention,
and sorrow. Each holds ready his pen, watching the^ips
of the philosopher, who attempts in vain to utter one more
thought, but death has sealed them for ever. A centurion
stands ready at the door to announce his death, and, with*
his foot already raised, he impatiently counts the last sighs
of Seneca — for Nero waits.

Judith with the Head of Holofernes, by Paul Vero-
nese. It is usual to paint this subject with the actress of
the bloody deed perfectly composed, holding the gory head
in her hand, with as much indifference as if it were a reti-
cule. Paul Veronese has conceived this horrid scene with

GENOA — ALBERGO DE* POVERI. 87

more natural truth, for her features finely depict the struggle
betwixt nature and fanaticism ; and Judith looks as Siddons
would have looked, had the part been dramatised.

The Rbsubrbctiok of Lazarus, by Michael Angelo.
The artist, to exemplify the divine power more strikingly,
has represented the body of Lazarus in a coibplete state of
corruption. The figure of Jesus is sublime: you see the
Divinity stirring within him, as, with outstretched hands,
he stands in the act and attitude of recalling the breath of
life to undo the work of death ; whilst the attendant group
anxiously watch the reanimation. It may be said of this
wonderful picture, without hyperbole, that the artist, in
representing, has himself performed, a miracle.

There is a picture by the bucolic pencil of Albani, in
one of the palaces here — although, from the loss of my notes,
I cannot now say where-«-which also merits remembrance.
In the middle of a valley, crowned by rocks, and variegated
with underwood, you virill find a shepherd and two shepherd-
esses seated by the side of a fountain. The shepherd is
playing on a flute. One of the shepherdesses, holding a rose
in her hand, is r^arding the musician, and Ibtening to the
music: she stretches out her hand to present the flower;
and her eagerness to do so, and yet her desire not to inter-
rupt the music, are admirably blended in her beautiful love-
begone countenance. Her companion, somewhat younger,
neither looks at, nor seems to listen to, the shepherd, but,
with her eyes fixed on the fountain, she dreams awake.
At a little distance, a delightful and delighted group of
children are playing with lambs, and binding them in fetters
made of garlands of flowers. Theocritus, you never sung a
sweeter pastoral !

The Alberoo de' Poveri. — This noble establishment is
conducted on the principle of our workhouses in England ,
and supports about 1600 poor. In the chapel belonging to
the albei^ you see the 'statues of its different benefactors,
induding the' most distinguished names of the ancient
Genovese republic — the Dorias, Spignolas, Durazzos, &c.

88 ROUTE TO LUCCA.

In the choir there is a fine AB8t7MPTioK of the ViROiVy in
marble, by Puget, of Marseilles ; and, on a side-wall, a medal-
lion PiETA, by Buonarotti. Remark the death-like repose in
the features of Christ, the half-open mouth, as if the Divine
Spirit had just made its escape, and the deep and touching
grief of the bereaved mother, all expressed with the charac^
teristic mastery of Michael Angelo's evangelic chisel.

From this I strolled into a church hard by. *' Soli Deo^
was written over the porch ; while every act within belied the
motto, and proclaimed undisguised polytheism. A priest was
flirting with a female as I entered. He and the lady passed
gaily on to the foot of the grand altar, while my progress was
arrested by the appearance of an old man, in the last degree
of misery, on his knees, by the very entrance, as if unworthy
of a nearer approach to the Fountain of all mercy. His eye
was moistened with a tear of the most devout earnestness, as
he proffered his humble petition at the throne of Almighty
Beneficence ; and humble it must have been ; for, gracious
God! how very little it must require, methought, as I re*
garded the miserable supplicant, to satisfy such complete
wretchedness !

Nothing remaining to detain me longer at Grenoa, I pro-
ceeded, by the usual route, to Lucca. The first day's marcb
to Chiavari was rather a long one. I had started somewhat
late in the morning firom Genoa, and sauntering more than
usual on the way, dusk began to fall fast around by the time
I had passed Recco. Here the road begins to ascend a long
and high mountain, which, as the sun declined in the west,
flung its broad shadow over the Mediterranean,.wrapping its
cold, wet feet in a mantle of grey, whilst

<* Day had got black in the hoe, as though
Of the nightshade he had dnink/'

Before mounting the steep, I withdrew to the road-side to
rest myself, and to winnow refreshment and renewed strength
from the breeze that blew from the sea. A delighted group
of children were at play on a grass-plot in front ; and my
reflections took the direction of my feelings as I sat coo-

DREAMS OF INFANCY. 89

templating the scene of innocence before me. You are not
wearied, as I am, children! thoaght I, — not alone, and
friendless, in a strange land ! A home and bed await your
coming — -an endearing welcome, your appearance at the
door ; whereas I, at this moment, know not to-night where
I am to lay my head. Young as you, I was as thoughtless ;
for forethought was then unnecessary, and anxiety a stranger
to my breast. Ye happy hours of infancy, why cannot ye
tarry in your course? Our regrets and chagrins last for
years, our pleasures but for a day I In life's dawn the soul
tastes the peace of angels, and every fostering parental care
ministers to our happiness. If some little nothing deluges
our eyes in tears, the next little nothing can render them as
joyful. Do we pout, and feel unhappy? — a rattle dissipates
the evanescent gloom. Have we stumbled, and hurt our-
selves? — a mother's kiss quickly cures the smart. Do we
seem wretched, disconsolate, and weep? — the least commi-
seration changes the tear to a smile, — the distance between
which in infancy is but a step, and in after-life a long day's
march. Heedless but of the passing impression, no evil by
anticipation either tempers or detracts from the enjoyment of
the moment. One minute you see the little urchin securely
nestling in its mother's bosom, and the next plucking its tiny
posy from the brink of a precipice. One hour you find it
rocking itself to rest in its cradle, and in another mocking
mortality in plajring its little gambols on a tombstone.

On infiincy's rosy lips one may gather kisses without
exciting one breathless sigh; the passing caress causes no
flutter in its bosom. How different, reader, are our feelings
when we are nineteen I Then, the slightest pressure of the
hand will fly to the heart like an electric shock; and an
embrace, delightful Grorgon, can render Pygmalion's mistress
again a statue!

Have you forgotten, , when, hand in hand, by Tweed's

iair and limpid stream, how we delighted to chase the butterfly
from flower to flower,, from blue-bell to brier! how much the
sight of a full-blown daisy pleased us ! and how readily our
little, untarnished hearts would palpitate in infantine ecstasy

90 ROMANCING AN ADVENTURE.

and uniBon with the fluttering note of the layerock, or when
listening to nurse Peggy as she lilted the ^^ Broom o' Cowden-
knowes/' or the '* Flowers of the Forest." Fatigued, and
sent to rest at the close of the day's joys, I can even now
remember with devotional pleasure^ how nightly I did, and
could repeat, with a simplicity of heart that knew nought but
innocence, ^' Our Daddy which art in heaven!"

A little older^ gentle reader, and care^ like a diligent
husbandman, begins to furrow-in his wrinkles. It is true,
youth's forehead is like a lake ; the keel of sorrow may
plough it for a moment, but in another, scarce a vestige of
its wake remains. By and by the impressions of anxiety
become more permanent, and, like icebergs, they require the
genial warmth of a summer s sun before they melt away ;
till at length they accumulate like a glacier, and freeze the
intellect they surround!

Romancing thus, I forgot that night was fast drawing on,
until the joyous hurra of the children, on leaving thdr play-
ground, suggested that it was time also for me to forsake my
pastime; and so I folded up my cane seat, and began to
ascend the mountain. The rustling of the leaves in a thicket
to the left, caused by the evening breeze, excited a sympa*
thetic shudder and chill over my whole frame. Every step
I took, the night fell thicker and darker ; for the sun at this
time of the year sinks to rest with the alacrity of the wearied
traveller. The sea-mew over head flew on rapid wing to her
pebbly bed ; so I, too, mended my pace, with the double
object of casting off the horripilation I felt, and of gaining
my nest for thg night. Of a sudden a man jumped fix)m out
of the bushes that grew on my left, and I instinctively grasped
firmer my cudgel. I may here mention, that towards even*
ing I always took the precaution, to avoid being surprised,
of walking in the middle of the road. The man passed me,
after having exchanged side-glances of suspicion on my part,
and wariness, as I thought, on his ; yet the circumstance
went unheeded. Shortly, I heard a loud whistle, sounding
something in the manner of a signal ; when, conceiving that
the fellow I had just seen intended perhaps to frighten me.

CHIAVARI — SPEZIA. 91

I continued my way. I had not gone far, when I thought
I heard steps behind me ; but on halting to listen, I heard
them no more ; and surmising it to be but the sound of my
footstep echoed by the mountain, I proceeded on my way.
Again the same noise stole on my ear, and on stopping a
second time, I heard it still more distinctly; the sound
seemed as of four feet, and I said, it is a man on horseback
perhaps ; however, as the better part of valour is discretion,
I redoubled my pace, for the steps were gaining upon me.
By this time I had nearly reached the summit of the moun*
lain ; and on looking back, I plainly perceived two men^ by
the light of a crescent moon, running after me, one of whom
I recognised as the fellow who had jumped out of the bushes ;
so, no longer doubting their purpose, I took off my knap^
sack, drew off to the side of the road next the sea, and raising
my stiff little stick over my head, I stood in a posture of
defence. The two fellows were opposite to me ; neither party
spoke ; and when we had remained in this almost ridiculous
position, eyeing one another with looks of no friendly intent,
for full five minutes, I noticed the cowards exchange signi-
ficant glances with each other, and then they suddenly left
me. Throwing my knapsack hastily on my back, I fol^
lowed, that, by keeping them in sight, I might not be taken
unawares at some turning of the road ; but the fellows dis-
appeared somehow ; and I arrived late at Chiavari, without
having seen any thing more of them. This little adventure
tells somewhat perilously, and yet it is very possible the
men might be quite innocent of any bad intent ; but we read
so much of Schidonis in our early days, that no man enters
Italy without having first made up his mind to be assassi-
nated, at the least, ere he leaves it.

Cbiavari is a fishing-town on the coast; and the only
remark I have to make is, that one's saltrwater acquaint-
ances are noisy folks all over the world ; for a knot of them
kept up such a hideous bawling, which, if asked, they might
call singing peradventure, that I could not get to sleep, tired
as I was, for fiiU two hours after I was in bed.

From Cbiavari I proceeded by Mattarana to Spezia ; and.

92 A MAL-ENTENDU — NATIONAL MUSIC.

after Bleeping at Massa over night, I arriyed at Pietra Santa,
where I breakfasted, and had nearly got into a scrape; bat
the story is ludicrous enough to deserve teUing. After look-
ing at the sculptured pulpit in the church, a specimen of
mixed Gothic and Pagan elegance, I returned to the inn
to settle my bill; and on asking how much I had to pay,
the padroney choosing by preference to speak badly-pro-
nounced French, told me, " // faut payer cinq paulsJ*
" Pay Saint Paul!" replied I, in utter astonishment, mis-
taking his meaning, through his corrupt pronunciation;
*' why, then, I suppose, to fulfil the adage, I must begin by
robbing Saint Peter." On this Boniface, not understanding,
or, more likely, provoked at my profane allusion, repeated
emphatically in Italian, ** Cinque paolij Signer!** which at
once elucidating my unlucky mal-entenduy I was happy to
find that I could satisfy mine host for my breakfiist, without
being obliged to commit so dangerous a sacrilege.

It was the time of the olive-harvest when I passed through
this part of the country, and they thrash them as we do wal-
nuts ; the men getting up on the trees, while the women are
engaged in picking them up. The songs of the rustics in all
countries are very properly considered as stamping the dis-
tinctive characteristic on national music; and, judging by
this criterion, no music, certainly, is in more wretched taste
than the national music of Italy. No chorus of calves, I am
sure, ever bellowed more dissonantly than these olive-pickers ;
and yet this style of singing is not peculiar to this part of
Italy ; for afterwards, in the Neapolitan states and elsewhere,
I recognised the same eternal whining monotony, the whole
band of choristers dwelling on the last syllable of every line
with a never-ending drawl, like the unchecked drone of an
expiring bag-pipe. Now, a donkey, when he chooses to
imitate a Pasta or a Paganini, has at least two masical
contrapuntas to play ofi^, cut alternately short and sweet,
resembling in their spasmodic enunciation the hurried re-
spirations of a pair of bellows, panting in despair to revive
the almost-extinguished flame in the heart of a cold cinder.
But the prolonged bellowing of these Italian rustics falls

NATIONAL MUSIC — LUCCA. 93

infinitely short, in varied melody, of my friend Neddy ; and
therefore I aver, all prejudices to the contrary notwithstand-
ing, that the real national music of Italy is uncouth and
barbarous. How, then, are we to account for their acknow-
ledged superiority in the science and execution of it? It is
to gifts, in my opinion, entirely of an incidental kind, by
which the Italians have attained to this confessed pre-emi-
nence. Wherever Nature is bountiful in her productions,
the necessity and amount of labour is abridged ; the mind,
not so oppressed in providing for our natural wants, gets and
retains the placidity of equanimity; and in such a happy
state, it is inclined to vent its gladness in the natural voice
and language of joy — music and poetry. The temperate
climate of Italy has strung the larynx with the finest mus-
cular chords, and adjusted them micrometrically by the nicest
attachments ; here are no choking fogs to dog their delicate
vibrations, or damping thaws to relax their sensitive tension ;
the air itself vibrates more elasticly; and to these physical
advantages, when combined with a natural good taste, cor-
rected by cultivation, and a fine and disciplined ear, ought
to be ascribed, I apprehend, the origin and superiority of
Italian music. Natural capabilities almost necessarily pro-
duce artificial excellence ; and this physical state of the organs
favours the cultivation, and promotes the improvement, of
this enchanting accomplishment. Hence it is, I make it
out, that music has been acquired by study, circumstances,
and locality, rather than through any innate gift specially
bestowed by nature on the Italians; and therefore there is
no incongruity or contradiction, I venture to maintain, in the
assertion, however heterodox it might at first appear, that the
original native music of Italy is, of itself, barbarous.

From Pietra Santa I got to Montramido, and thenee to
Lucca.

LUCCA

is a fortified town, situated in a plain; and its ramparts
afibrd a delightful promenade. It was here, nearly 2000
years ago, that Csesar, Pompey, and Crassus, tore to pieces

i)i LICCA — CHURCHES.

the lioiiuui universe, and divided it amongst themselves.
But tlie eirciunstancc which i-ives to modern Lucca its cele-
l)rity, is its possession of the Volto Santo. This is a
woiuh'n crucifix, heirun hy Nicodenius, but, being rather a
liunglcr at carving, some angels, who observed him at work,
took his tools, and finished it for him. The Volto Saiito
forms the grand o])ject of devotion at Lucca, and you find
the figure on the coin. This holy image formerly occupied
the church of ?^t. Ferdina ; but not likinir its lodiiinirs, it
made a uioonlight Hittin<j: one night, and established itself in
the cathedral cliurch of ??an Martino; it alighted in the left
aisle, round which they have erected a chaj)el, of an octairon
form, ornamented witli statues of the Evangelists, and on the
side facinii; the urand altar there is one of St. Sebastian.

Tlje exterior of the cathedral is of black and white marble,
disti'ibuted in a checkered mannci' ; and the windows are of
lieautifullv stained uhiss.

In a chapel to the left of the choir we observe a fine
statue of the Redeemer, with statues of St. Peter ami St,
Martin on each side. Over head we read the following in-
scription, savouring sonu'what of paganism :

< IIUISTO T.IlSCUAloni
A ( ■

1)1 VIS 1 n Li.ARiin s.

Paintings adonuMl ench of the altars: but tliev were all con-
ceah'd bv curtains, nor could I tind anv one to draw them aside.

TiiKCuntcii or St. Micuakl stands in the grand piazza,
and is renuirkabh* onlv for the fanlastic stvle of its archi-
tecture, and for \\\k\ ti'^sellatcd arnmgement of the coloured
nuirbles of which it is constructed.

If the traveller be cnri(»ns to see a modern (hsctnsifs
Arcrniy let hini visit the Curiaii ov tuk Aicustins. The
liole you iiud here, leading <lown to the infernal regions, was
opeiU'd on the following mirjuMihuis t)cca>ion. The clnu'ch
occupies the site of an old mr/is (Iff t/f/rdc, in a niche of which
stood an imaix<^» of the \ iririn. Two soldiers plaviuii* at dice
one dav, one of them was Ncrv uiduckv, and ijetitioned the
image to change the fortun*' of the lun : he plaved on, and

GAMBLING — A MIRACLE. 95

yet lost ; at which he got wroth, Bwore at the lady, blaming
her as the cause of his unlucky stars, knocked his fist on
the table, howled at the moon, tore his hair, turned his stool
round, and went through the most approved evolutions of a
gamester in bad luck ; yet continued, notwithstanding these
various incantations, still to lose. At length, wound up to
frenzy, the impious wretch seized a stone, and flung it at
the blessed image. The stone, says the legend, would have
hit the figure of the infant Jesus in her arms, which the
Vii^gin perceiving, she adroitly threw the child from one arm
to the other, to avoid the blow. In commemoration of the
miracle, the infant stiil rests on the left arm of its mother,
over which you read the following lines :

•* PROLUAT UT CVLPAM DAT VIRGO SANGUINIS UNDAM,
AT CADIT IGNORAMS IMPIUS ESSE PIAM.*'

As a matter of just retribution, the earth opened under the
feet of the sacril^ous miscreant, and he sunk down to where
Pluto now amuses himself in making matches ; and what is
more, the hole still remains to attest the fact. It is of an
oval form, crossed by two bars of iron. I took a peep down,
through sheer itching curiosity, and began to fancy, as I
snuffed, like a terrier at a rat-hole, that there verily was
something sulphurous in the scent.

There is one painting in this church that struck me as
good, over the altar of the chapel of Our Lady. It exhibits a
Madonna and child, with an adult St. John in a kneeling
posture, pointing to the group above. There is an enchanting
sweetness in the countenance of the Virgin, and the boy is in-
fant divinity personified. Well may the Baptist kneel, for ado-
ration here becomes instinctive ; to point was not necessary,
for dull must be the perception that cannot see its beauties.

The princes of this mighty empire, of eight square leagues,
are a branch of the Spanish Bourbons. The royal family
were at Lucca at the time I was there, which prevented me
seeing the interior of the palace.

Before quitting the place, I may mention a ludicrous in-
cident that, I was told, happened some little time ago. A

90 BATHS OF PISA PISA.

Luccose, over head and ears in debt, was haunted by the
bailiffs; and l)eing obliged to leave his home one day to
visit a friend, he was beset. The cliureh of St. Michael
was close by, but the tipstaffs were between him and the
sanctuary, so he was forced to give Ivrj-hail, in running for it,
as fast as every patriotic friend to liberty, out of principle, does
on all such occasions. The bailiffs, in full cry, were coming
ftist up with the chase, when the run-down, breathless
debtor meeting a little, knock-kneed, broad-set priest of his
ac([uaintance, had just time to tell his predicament, and to
denjand his assistance. '* A friend in-hncedy is a friend
indeed," says the old saying, and so it turned out; for tlie
priest, laying liold of his unfortunate friend, threw him on
his back without more ceremony. The bailiffs arrived to
seize their prey, when the priest claimed the privilege of his
order, and insisted on tlie sacred nature of his person ; so
that the law's l)ody-snatchers, thus foiled, saw their booty
borne off in triumph, to the great anuisement of a crowd
which the oddity of the circumstance had collected.

(,'onsulting my travelling map, 1 found Pisa lay nearly
due south of l^ucca ; I therefore crossed a ridge of hills which
intervene between the two places, and came immediately
down on the baths of Pisa. The mineral waters here are
lukewarm, and not disngreeable to the taste. They are both
drank and used as a batli, and, no doubt, j)rove efficacious
where the humours recpiire diluting and cleansing: society
adds its charms, and variety its stinnilus ; hence the benefit
derived from waters of otherwise very insignificant intrinsic
power.

PISA.

The situation of Pisa, on the banks of the Arno, the
air of elegance about it, the Cathedral, Hanging Tower,
and Campo Santo, all render it a place of attraction to the
in([uisitive traveller. The three last stand close together ;
and on entering the Piazza del Duomo, the Hanging Tower
first olitains the stranger's attention. Its height and incli-
nation have an irresistible effect upon the eye, although, in

PISA — THE HANGING TOWER. d7

mj conception, it is far from being a pleasing object. To me,
life in any shape about expiring, and objects in the position
of falling, alike convey a disagreeable idea — that of annihi-
lation and destruction. The Tower of Pisa indines so much
from the perpendicular as to impress the beholder with some
degree of apprehension lest it should fall and bury him
amidst its ruins; and even though persuaded that it is a
structure designedly erected with this inclination, he still
must consider it a monstrous and displeasing anomaly in
architecture. This tower consists of eight ranges, or stories,
each surrounded by a colonnade : it is a hundred and eighty
feet in height, and inclines thirteen feet from the perpendi-
cular ; from the top of which you have an extensive view
towards Florence on the east, and of Leghorn and the coast
to the south. It is still a question in dispute, whether this
tower was built in this manner originally, or got its incli^
nation from the sinking of its foundations. Independent of
the fact of the uncouth Leaning brick Tower at Bologna having
been built so purposely, and thus giving the idea, and serving
as an example, if not a model, to the architect, there is suffi-'
cient external evidence, I think, about the building itself to
decide the question. If the lower range of columns be ob^
served, it will be at once perceived that those on the side of
the inclination are curved in the middle. Now, supposing
the ground on the inclined side to have sunk, this could not
have happened, unless the stone were flexible. There is a
species of limestone, we know, that is so; but, from its great
friability and softness, it is totally unfit for columns sustaining
any considerable weight. Again, the columns and stories
lowest down diverge the most from the perpendicular, which
is exactly contrary to every principle of gravitation, unless we
gire to the structure a Hving effort to counteract its tendency
to fall. Both of which circumstances abundantly prove, in
my opinion, that the Hanging Tower of Pisa was erected as a
fantastic and difficult specimen of architectural skill, to shew
what art, when idly employed, was capable of performing.
It was from the top of this tower that Galileo made his famous
experiment to confute the Aristotelians, and to demonstrate

98 PISA — THE CAMPO SANTO.

the simultaneoas velocity in the falling of bodies of dissi-
milar weights. Galileo was bom at Pisa in 1564, ten years
before the building of the tower, the whimsical architect of
which was a German.

The Campo Santo. — This elegant cemetery was erected
under the direction of the architect Nicola Pisano, when
Pisa was an independent republic, towards the expense of
which six hundred of the principal families contributed, only
fifteen of whom remain unextinct at this day. The soil was
brought from the Holy Land in the time of the crusades,
and it is pretended that it possesses the property of pre-
serving nncorrupted the bodied of those who lie interred in
it. This edifice is four hundred and eighty-six feet long,
by one hundred and sixty in width; and the graceful and
richly fretted Gothic arcades contain the finest collection of
Etruscan, Greek, and Roman sarcophagi any where to be
found ; and the walls are adorned with paintings in fresco,
most of them as old as the thirteenth century. Those
on the north side were executed a century later, by Be-
nozzo Gbzzoli, and denote the progress and improvement of
the art.

Turning to the left on entering, you find the tomb of
Algarotti, whose elegant treatise on the art of painting has
deservedly distinguished his name as a critic of refined taste.
It is by Carlo Bianconi. Under a medallion portrait of the
author reposes a graceful statue of Minerva. At the south-
west comer, near to which you now are, observe a rude
piece of sculpture, remarkable as having been placed here
to commemorate the termination of the feuds between the
Guelphs and Ghibelins ; and where ought feuds to end more
appropriately than where mortality is obliged to surrender
itself to the worm ?

The frescos which ornament the western end are by the
master of Michael Angelo. Ranged along its sides are
various pieces of sculpture : among others, a head of Agrippa
in nero antico ; and a charming head of Venus, of Grecian
workmanship. At the east extremity of the parallelogram

PISA — THE CATHEDRAL. 99

which the Campo formSi you will find the principal chapel,
remarkable for a crucifixion painted on leather, by Apol-
lonia Greco in a.d. 1200, before painting in oil was in-
vented. Returning to where you entered, you pass a bust
of the Emperor Hadrian, as perfect as when left by the
chisel of the sculptor, and another of Julius Brutus. Close
to the door, the guide points out a beau morceau of Michael
Angelo's ; it is a miniature portrait of the artist himself, in
marble.

The Cathbdral. — As the Campo Santo might properly
enough be called the museum of Pisa, so the cathedral may
be considered its gallery — so rich is it in paintings of first-
rate merit. Indeed, they are so numerous, it will oblige
me to throw most of them into the Appendix at the end of
this work, for the use of the traveller, instead of describing
them severally.

The high and richly sculptured columns by the grand
entrance, were brought from Egypt, as were those of the
Baptistery opposite. There are three entrances in front, each
widi bronze doors, the exquisite workmanship of John de
Bologna. The bas-relie& on that of the middle represent
the principal passages in the history of the holy Virgin;
while those on the two side-doors refer to subjects taken
firom the life of our Saviour. The preference in honour
given on all occasions to the Virgin, is apt to strike a poor
heretic like me. God the Father and Creator, seems, in
Catholic countries, to be almost forgotten — so strongly sets
the tide of idolatry in favour of what appertains to mortality
in the relations of the Godhead. The Virgin, the DeiparUf
as they sometimes style her, is every thing amongst these
modem polytheists. On a former excursion, when walking
round the ramparts of Namur, I remember being petitioned
by an old woman for '^ Charit^ pour Tamour de Dieu et de
taDeesser

On entering the cathedral by the bronze door which
leads into the left aisle, you see over the first altar the
martyrdom of some saint by three Moors, by Benvenuti, a

100 PISA — THE ( ATHEDRAL.

disciple of the niodcrn French school, and head of the
present Italian, reniaikable only for the faults in the desig-n,
espei'ially conspicuous in the foreshortenings. Farther on,
yon come to St. Vinc ent de Paul siccouring deserted
FoiNDLiNGS, bv Ciramlolfi. The exquisite beauty of the
colonrinLT of this paintiuLr falls on the delighted eye like sleep's
narcotic poppies on the eyelids of the wearied. Observe the
chubby, rosy, little cberub> that creep and gambol about, m
si^iit of bosoms most exuberant and fair, like playful kittens
on a heartli-ruLT. Xext remark a painting, by the parsi-
njonious pt*ncil of Salembeni, representing the Attributes
OF tue Almighty. — Surrounded by a festoon of infant an-
gels, with their little arms interlaced in every graceful posi-
tion, a sublime figure of Ilim ** from ^vhom no secrets are
hid,' hovers in the sky : beneath, five angels, as attributes,
stand in the foreground. The one in the middle holds in
his hands a balance and a sword, and the angelic sweetness
of his countenance bespeaks the forgiveness of a merciful
God, tempering the decrees of his justice. Another, denoting
piety, with his hands crossed on his breast, looks up to the
fountain of all goodness in fervent adoration. A third, kneel-
ing and holding a tuje dc h/s in his hand, typifies the virtue
of purity. A fourth, bearing a two-edged sword, stands the
symbol of divine wrath ; whilst a fifth, the most beautiful of
all, holds in his hands, as he kneels, the emblems of pen-
ance and purification. What a lovely countenance! Veil it
not with your wings, () angel of light ! for such alone can
behold, if aught can, the glorious efi'ulgence of the Divinity !
What beautiful hands! — only such are fitted to minister at
the throne of grace I

In the north transept you iind five paintings by Aulerio
Lommi, which exemplify the proteiform nature of his pencil.
Of these, Christ disputing in the Temple, and the Ado-
ration OF THE Shepherds, pleased me tbe most.

The choir, again, is one splendid galaxy of beauties. I
can only point out a few, and must rcl^iir to the Appendix
for the remainder.

PISA — THE CATHEDRAL. 101

MosBs DB8CVNDINO FROM MouNT SiNAi, bearing the
tables of the Decalogue on his shoulders, by Domenico Bec-
cafumi. What a sublime and terrific figure ! In the midst
of the idolatrous Jews stands the image of the golden calf,
and he surprises them in the act of worshipping it. Observe,
in particular, the alarm of detected guilt in the countenance
of a most beautiful female in the foreground, at the approach
of the lawgiver of Israel coming from the presence of his
God. It is the portrait of Beccafumi's mistress.

Thb Sacbificb of Abraham, by U Sodoma. Isaac is
seen kneeling on the altar, and in his features you perceive
fear, horror, and resignation, intermingled in one compound
expression. Venerable, sorrowful, and agonised, Abraham
hath already raised his hand in desperate obedience, armed
with the sacrificial knife, while an angel, at the very moment
he is about to inflict the mortal blow, arrests his arm, and
you involuntarily shudder lest it should be too late.

Near to this is a painting of Moses in thb Wilderness
STRIKING THB RocK, whcH the living stream gushes out to
quench the thirst of Israel. It is another of the rare and
fasdnatine productions of Salembeni's angelic pencil. A
female seated, with a pitcher by her side, is so charming and
beautiful, that Tantalus himself might forget his thirst in
beholding her : but all Salembeni's females are the creatures
of sapid imagination.

On the ceiling which vaults the choir there is an ancient
mosaic of the Lux Mundi, by Gaddo Gaddi. A large
bronze crucifix surmounts the high altar, in firont of which
a tessellated carpet extends, and the altar itself is composed
of lapis lazuli, and of the most rare and beautiful marbles.
It was in this cathedral that Gralileo, while watching the
vibrations of one of the lamps suspended to the ceiling, first
conceived the idea of a pendulum as a measure of time ; and
as he was originally intended for a physician, he first em-
ployed it to ascertain the rate of the pulse, a use to which
it was for a long time afterwards applied by the physicians
of that period — the pulsilogia. — (Vide Santarioy Comment,
in Avicennam^ Venetiis, 1625.)

102 riSA THE BAPTISTERY OF ST. JOHN.

TriE BvPTisTERV OF ^^T. John is in front of the cathedral,
Mini of a circular form. A bronze statue of the Baptist
stands under tlic centre of the dome, enclosed by a balustrade
of ricldv sculptured marble, near which stands a pulpit of
elahoi'ate woi'kinan.-liip, executed as early as the thirteenth
ci'Hturv, by Nicola Pisano. The Ba[.>tistery contains two
iniintiiiL^s : one of anixels adorinjj: a nionoijrain of the Viririn ;
the otliei', The Fekuing of the MrLTirrDE, by V^anni.

Niewinii' the tiat country all around Pisa, extending; from
the heitrlits behind it and spreading- to the sea, it appears
manifest that the LTJ'eater part nnist have been p:ained from
tlie retreat of the Mediterranean. Even now deep ditches,
towai'ds Leuhorn, conduct the water to the sea ; and the
preNailiuLT diseases of the country sliew its damp and marshy
nature, Xotwith-tandinii* the authoritv of a late very enter-
taining and intelliirent traveller, (Mr. Mathews,) I think
his opinion of the climate of Pisa, as a fit residence for the
consumptive, nnist be taken with considerable reservation.
Tiiere aie forms, certainly, of [)hthisis which yield under
the influence of a moist antl bland atmosj)hcre : the coast
of Di'von founds its claim to preference and selection in
J'jigland, on such (jualities. But there are other forms of
this fatal malady, which, instead of beini^ benefited by a
climate of a humid character, become nuich aLri;Tavated, by
its increasing; the hmiruor and debility, au2;menthig the
expectoration, at the same time that the hectic pei*spirations
]>ecome nu)re colli([uative and profuse. To this latter species
of the disease, the moist and relaxinir air of Pisa acts like
an exhausting pump, and the disease gallops to its goal.
According to a census given by Dr. Palloni, a physician at
f.eghorn, one in live of the native inhal)itants, out of a popu-
lation of 7»3,0()0, die ol' consumption — a proi>ortion larger
even than in England. Agues are very conunon here, which
might be expected from the quantity of stagnant water that
is at all times in the fosses. TJiis, satmated with animal and
vegetable corruption, when acted upon by an Italian sun,
generates pestilential miasmata, and hence also the preva-
lence of low, paludal fevers.

FLORENCE — THE CLIMATE. 103

To-morrow we are to proceed by La Seala to Florence :
meanwhile, traveller, good night ; and may the favourite
angel of Salembeni'B bewitching pencil hover over your
pillow, and whisper in your ear dreams such as angels
dream.

FLORENCE.

The country between Pisa and Florence teems with
fertility, where, at every step, you see com, wine, and oil,
the simultaneous produce of the same field.

The city of Florence is one of the finest in Italy, situated
in the valley of the Amo, and contains from seventy to eighty
thousand inhabitants. The approach lo it is through groves
of olive-trees, and in spring it is in the midst of a bouquet
of flowers — the beautiful and apposite circumstances iVom
which it derived its name — Florentia. It is situated in
ancient Etruria, from whence Rome borrowed the arts and
sciences. Etruria gave an order also to architecture, and a
king even to Rome itself, for the elder Tarquin was an
Etrurian. Much also of the religious worship of the Ro-
mans was borrowed from the Etrurians ; for it was an early
principle of those politic people, in annexing new states to
their own, to adopt, in the general amalgamation, what
nations cling to with greater pertinacity even than to their
liberties, the creed of the conquered. They parcelled out
Olympus after an Agrarian manner, and in colonising it
with strange deities, made them all equal denizens of the
same adoration.

The climate of Florence is delightful in summer, but
fogs prevail in autumn and spring ; and in winter the air is
cold and damp, from its vicinity to the Apennines. The
beautiful stream of the Amo divides the city into two un-
equal parts, connected by four bridges, of which that of
Santa Trinita is justly esteemed a model of beauty and per-
fection.

It was in the time of the carnival that I arrived. Gaiety
in her liveliest mood paraded every street, in dresses the
most fantastic, and devices of merriment the most amusing.

101 ILOKENCi: — B0130LI GAKDENS-

rioreiice is a cily of gentle-people ; the Florentines are a
gentet'l race in extori .r seeming even : the city is a city of
pulaces ; its puhlic walks are laid out in the most delightful
spots, and all its amusements are elegant. The grand dis-
phiy on tlie hist day <►(' the carnival takes place close to the
Piazza del (rianiluca, where 1 thought my countrymen, as
maskers, were as entertaining as any. The grand duke and
duchess honoured the motley group w^ith their presence, and
seemed to enjoy the lively scene.

In the eveninii', hefore li'oinji: to the masked ball at the
Pergola, I strolled towards the spot which had exhibited so
nnich life and gaiety at noon; hut tlie place was deserted —
the spirit of frolic had tied, by a sort of metempsychosis, to
some other rendezvous of pleasure, and the place seemed the
sepulchre of merriment defunct : not so the statues of Buon-
arotti, John de Boh)gna, and Cellini, in which you perceive
that, though the cliest heaves not, they ])reathe — they speak,
though the articulation be inaudible.

It is my usual plan, on coming to a new place, to get to
some commanding situation in the neighbourhood, the better
to Itarn its local geography, and guide my excursions accord-
in<rlv ; so I went to tln^ Boholi gardens. I ascended until I
came to the uppermost range of terraces which form the seats
of the theatre, directly fronthig the palace Pitti. Here the
traveller is greeted l)y the tutelary goddess of Tuscany in the
form of a colossal Stati e of Aiu ndanck, of inlinite sweetness
and njajesty, a creation of the superb imagination of John de
IJoloiiua.

From this height the visiter gets a fine bird's-eye view of
the city ; of the cathedral and its magnificent dome, the tower
of the old ducal palace, the wiiuhng Arno [)lunging under
the arches of its bridges like an expert diver ; of the innu-
merable villas whieh speckle its environs, like dew^-drops on
the leaves of the cowslip ; of the hills and still more distant
mountains gradually receding from the delighted sight, with
villages cresting their sunnnits like the featluirs on the head
of the cockatoo. Having now ascertained the relative posi-
tion of the principal objects of a stranger's curiosity, I de-

FLORENCE THE VENUS, 105

acexided into the labyrinth of afreets below, and instinctive! j
found myself on the stairs of The Gallery ; for where else is
the lover of the fine ai*ts first to be found but in the sanctuary
of the chefs-d^cBuvre — on his knees before the Venus !

Innumerable as were the casts I had seen of this cele-
brated statue, how imperfectly they all represent the original !
The chilliness which Paris plaster imparts to a statue is like
the icy hand of death on the human form. The lineaments
may remain entire, but the beauty of life is destroyed ; and
such it is with every cast of the work of Cleoraenes the
Athenian — to cast it in plaster is to embody but its shade —
to imitate the original a V ombre Chinois. It must be seen to
be appreciated ; for nothing else can convey any just idea of
this extraordinary production of Grecian sculpture.

The entire suiface of this delicate statue blooms with
youth and shines with divinity. Seeming unconscious of any
one gazing at her, Venus's attitude is that of naked modesty
alone and unseen. Her countenance breathes the innocent
voluptuousness of Nature in full blow ; and the eye glides
from beauty to beauty, and from grace to grace, in fugitive
playfulness, embracing each charm in endless succession un-
satiated, for there is no resting-place. It dares not settle oa
her lips, they are too inviting ; it ventures not to repose on
her bosom, it is so pure. Naked, and yet the figure is not
lewd : it warms the feelings, but does not inflame them.
Observe the soft contours of her body, and with what grace
the timid foot steals from under that charming knee. Venus
is on earth, and yet she does not seem to press it ; for the
Queen of Love treads so lightly, that she appears to stand on
the froth of a fresh-broken wave.

The Apollino, which faces the Venus, is, in my opinion,
misplaced, and fails, in such presence, to make that impression
its beautiful delicacy otherwise would do. This fine statue
were better placed in the middle of a small cabinet beside
Delia Robbia's Trio singing lo Peeans, surrounded by land-
scapes from the lyric and classical pencil of Poussin.

At the top of the staircase which leads to the gallery you
enter a vestibule where busts of all the Medici stand, as it

106 FLORENCE — THE GALLERY.

were, on the threshold to do the honours of their palace.
Thence you pass into an ante-room, where you see three
majestic statues of Augustus, Trajan, and Hadrian : a Phoeboa
leaning in an attitude of the utmost elegance ; an admirable
statue of a horse of Greek workmanship, which appears
impatient to leap from the pedestal ; two magnificent woI&
dog^ that bay to the moon ; the celebrated wild boar, besides
some beautiful heads and busts.

From this you enter the gallery ; and whilst yon, fellow*
traveller, are pacing down an avenue of 157 statues and
busts, containing, among others, the whole suite of Roman
emperors from Julius Ceesar to Alexander Severus, with the
catalogue at the end of the volume as your guide, I, like an
excursive butterfly, shall sip sweets from the flowers of art
that please me the most.

Near the entrance you find a representation of that im-
promptu from the brain of Jupiter — the Birth of Minerva.
It is much mutilated, and "stands between busts of Cicero and
Mark Antony.

Pomona, a statue. — No position can be more delightful.
A garland of grapes and vine-leaves encircles her forehead,
and her lap is full of fragrant fruits. The drapery of this
statue is cast in the most becoming manner, the sleeves of
which are buttoned from the shoulder downwards, exposing
her beautiful arm in the betweenities. The whole is per-
fumed with an aroma of sweetest elegance.

On the opening of spring, in a grove, amidst lilies and
roses, on the banks of a murmuring stream, with the cooing
of doves and the song of the nightingale, the fancy of Moore
even could not conceive any thing more beautiful than Titian's
Flora. Every charm blossoms at the same instant, like the
flowers she holds in her hand.

St. Francis webpino ; by Cigoli. The tear is not stuck
on his cheek to indicate the passion the features do not
otherwise express, nor like a dew-drop hung on a thorn:
the wretched old man appears to weep real tears.

Venus l — sing Cupid, by Giovanni da San Giovanni. —
What! does Love need a 1 — se-trap? Horrid thought! A

FLORENCE — THE TRtBUNE. 107

creeping sensation mns over your pericraniam at the bare
idea, and yon impatiently cry, as you scratch your sconce,
'* Dame Venus, lend me the comb !" No, no, it cannot be t
Petals of roses ought alone to be there, fallen from some
faded garland.

The Tribune. — The walls of this sanctuary of the chef^
d*{euvre are covered with crimson velvet, and lighted by a
window in the vaulted ceiling, regulated by blinds,

Raphael's Fornarina enchants yon with the power of
the basilisk. They tell a story of the Pope for whom this
artist painted the celebrated frescos in the Vatican. His
holiness never came to view the progress of the paintings
but he was sure to find Fornarina by the artist's side. ** Who
is this woman, Raphael," asked his holiness one day, in an
offended tone, '* that I always see here?" ** She is my eyes,"
replied the doating artist !

His St. John has all the wild sublimity of inspiration
about it ; and you can fancy, as lost in a reverie of admira-
tion, you hear the voice crying in the wilderness, '' Make
straight the way." A rude cross of reeds, is in his hand,
from which scintillate flickering streams of fire.

Buonarotti's Holt Family exemplifies the utmost cor-
rectness of design, so excessively perfect as almost to destroy
the best impression of a painting — the pleasure of being
momentarily deceived into a sense of its reality. Michael
Angelo painted this when only sixteen years old.

Here also is an allegory beautifully painted by Rubens —
Innocbncb between Virtue and Vice. Innocence is per-
sonified by a young man : Virtue has brought his helmet ; a
horse is standing behind ready to mount ; she endeavours to
persuade the youth to quit the enticements of Vice, and to
follow her banner : while Time, emblematical of experience,
hovers over the head of the fair advocate. Vice, again, is
seated by his side, having hold of his arm with one hand,
while the other encircles his waist, and she regards him with
eyes fiill of fascination, pleasure, and yoluptuousness. In-
stead of Medusa's snaky head, roses strew the background.

108 FLORENCE — THE GALLERY.

where two beautiful females beckon lunocence to follow tbem
into an adjoining thicket : — and to whom does he listen with
most pleasure ? Alas, human nature can answer for us all !

Behind the group of the two Gladiators fighting is a
painting of the Murder of the Innocents, by Daniel da
Volterra. The sight of both the one and the other always
makes me shudder ; and in regarding either, the eye instinct-
ively flies away to Guercino's Samian Sibyl, to ding to the
beauteous beam that radiates from hers as it traverses, amidst
magic stars, the regions of divination.

In the transept gallery, fronting the Amo, there is an
admirable statue of Cupid defying the Gods. No expres-
sion could be more provokingly insulting than what the
countenance of this imp displays. His head and body are
bent back, as he looks towards Olympus laughing in scorn,
and his hands, though empty, fling volumes of defiance at
the assembled gods.

Nearly opposite to this a statue of Mercury stands, of
the lightest and most ethereal proportions. The sweetest
harmony of form pervades every limb in movements of
softest undulation. The eye can trace no angle in the line
of beauty : by contours it vanbhes, and by contours it returns,
and each gliding form, where you think it terminates, is but
the commencement of a new one : the eye never stops in
pursuing it ; and you quit viewing the beauties of the fleet
messenger of heaven with an unsatisfied feeling, as if you had
been chasing a shadow.

There is another statue of Mercury nearer the Tribune,
more mundane in its form, holding a purse in his hand, as
the god of commerce.

At the upper end of the gallery, opposite to that of the
Tribune, on the tomb of Telegennus, lies stretched in deepest
slumber the Genius of Eternal Sleep. This statue is of
polished nero antico : every muscle is relaxed : his jaw is
fallen as if breathing with stertor, his close-shut eyelids
seem as if sealed with the signet of Eternity, and he sleeps
the apoplectic sleep of the poppy.

Not far from this is a statue of David with the bead of

FLORENCE — THE GALLERY. 109

Goliath at his feet, by Donatello, which, though rather stiff,
is good for the period. Opposite to the David is a St. John
THB Baptist, by the same artist : so meagre he looks, that
he appears to have deserted from a churchyard, and in such
a hurry, too, that his ghost hath forgotten to flesh itself.
Donatello's *' vox clamantis" personifies Ovid's '* vox et prtB^
terea nihil;'* and, to speak my mind, such a St. John de-
serves to be sent back again to the wilderness.

At the very top of this wing you find Bandinelli's copy
of the group of the Laocoon ; but it is a mere copy. The
eye ialls flat on the marble, and gathers no elastic impulse
to play between the object and the sense : it crawls over the
group, and quits the inanimate mass of stone disgusted with
the sodden contact.

How different from this is Buonarotti's Bacchus ! It is
difficult to determine in which of the three arts of archi-
tecture, sculpture, and painting, Michael Angelo most ex-
celled ; his statuary pleases me the most, and this Bacchus,
in my estimation, is his cke/'cTosuvrej it is so faultless and
beautiful. Observe the graceful ease in the bend of the
body; in what fine positions the arms are displayed; and
how all the parts harmonise in elegant proportion : grapes
cluster round bis head, and his lips seem to utter audibly
the incoherences of a mind inebriated. Every joint totters
on its hinges, and every muscle partakes of the mind*s flabby
listlessness. Give me that cup you hold in your hand,
babbling prater! for, Bacchus, you have drank enough.

Opposite to Michael Angelo's stands the Bacchus of
Sawbovino. This statue is more gay and less intoxicated.
Bacchus is holding up the cup, drinking *' a health to all
good lasses,*' and seems delighted with the rosy juice. His
form is light and delicate, resembling the remembrance of a
beloved object reflected in the mirror of a tender imagina-
tion, and the eye wanders over it in meanders as varied and
beautiful as those of the neighbouring Amo.

There is another Bacchus by Michael Angelo, of exqui-
site outlines, but unfinished ; yet the eye of &ncy dips be-
neath the nnchiselled surface, and imagines it can perceive.

I 10 THE NIOEF. ROOM.

t'lrnii'^h tilt* coar>e \*A\ Tnit iritervt-ne'i. those excellencits
uliu'h tile inaLiic chisel of Buoiiarotti i::ieinifd to create.

Im^oto eiiteriiij: the cabiiiets whioh « piu from the srallery,
ninark a ])aiiitiiiix of an (Jld Max begging, hy Cre^pi w7
Sii,i,//h>/n). I lis fiico is wriukhnl with aje, wrt-tolieihiess,
and sorrow ; in tatters he suppHcate? yonr ])ity and chanty.
Tlii^ portrait is <'arefnlly fhiished ; and f.istidi(»us ninst be the
ta<te that wonld rcM'n^e tlie ol)olns of praise to the mendicant
of Sj)aunohMto.

Anion:: i^\r Vtruvran vases yon find a strikinir and
friLi'htfnl ^mv.** .m '..u' (irvu s o[' Death — so fair and vet so
t:lia*-tl\ jv^'v" • ' Nv^.;".:; ami vet so relentless — winixed —
restini;' on :\ n '.\'u ■•; a nu><t «;'raceful altitude, i^ivinLT, as
it would >ti".u. ii\''. ' N iv lu>lvday : yet his countenance,
thou<::h heautiurilN iv-'iLu\ expresses a ciiillinir severity ;
min^linir in its nH;v\-NL.»ii a paradox of sentiment, in repre-
sent in<j^ what the poN>er v>ftlie understanding caimot define,
or tiie most sunnv inui^iuation scarcelv trace a shadow ot* —
l)((if/i (tlirc! Death, loo, in hovhood, ere he has vet un-
Ju')itlied his bones, and a>sunied his occupation of assa^sin-
•eneral of the human race.

I'm, Nit)ui: l^)OM. — In this little theatre the traiiedv of

\i,.l»e. \\\ iMarl»b\ i> continuallv beinir einicted. Here vou

,, ilu- ibddreu of Niobe all assend)led. Apollo has just

I.I. Iv ^'oe of her sons; lie has fallen on his knees, aiul the

I ,\ t»4) leiubied ium a statue. Twice wounded by the

,,iildrn-i bund, another lies stretched at his lenixth,

lu.l iswoonmir in his blood. Dismay has seized the

'i uMii» and some are seen flvino- a\vav or hidiuL?

,, . ..I. |u(ulied by fear, have become what they

.. \, NwibvMil the sculptor's chisel. Her eldest

, bii bosom to the avenger — she implores

v»u I be countenance of Niobe is depicted

.[ .i mother, \vho sees her children slain

tb» j,iuf is sublime and beautiful (if grief

^. !»e -«ui>es to hide in her arms the

... lo^ 1 I Tbis beautiful creature holds

BI^ONZB ROOMS. Ill

up her hand to protect herself, hiding her fiue from the
offended deity ; but nothing lees wUl asBoage the yengeanee
of Apollo and his sister than the destruction of all.

Among this pathetic group the celebrated statue of Psjche
has been placed. The lovely Psyche crouches in an attitude
of inexpressible fright : she entreats, she implores, but im-
plores and entreats in yaiu.

There are a few paintings in this apartm^it by Rubens,
SnyderSy Carlo Lotti, and Delia Notte (Gerard Honthorst).
Here also we observe a fine bust of Juno, of heroic propor-
tions, and another of Albxakdbr thb Gbbat bxpibino.
He dies as he lived, amidst convulsions. Every feature
seems rent asunder, as if to steal quietly into the grave were
unworthy of one who had held the world in his hand, and
torn it into shreds for his &vourites.

In a narrow corridor off this long gallery, to the west,
observe a group in bas-relief singing a tiio, by Luca della
Robbia, in which the keys are so admirably represented, that
you may fimcy yon hear the treble, tenor, and bass. Here
also you find, near to the bust of Ovid, the unfinished
portrait of Lorenzo di Medici, who killed his cousin the
Duke Alexander. When believed to be the liberator of his
country, Lorenzo was designated the Florentine Brutus ; but
when this pretended liberator was discovered to be a new
oppressor, die sculptor (Michael Angelo) would not finish it.
This iact, so honourable to the feelings of Michael Angelo, is
commemorated by the following inscription upon it : —

** VVU BRUTI EFFJGIE1C
SCULPTOR D£ MARMORE DUCIT,
IN HENTEM SCELEEI9 YEN IT,

£T ABSTINUIT/'

At the comers you read the artist's initials, M. A. B. F.

In the Bronzb Rooms ancient and modem art have
wreathed their laurels into one coronet. Here you see John
de Bologna's celebrated statue of Mbbcury bobmb up ok thb
brbath of Borbas ; two fine antique statues of Vulcan and
Vbhus ; a statue of Cupid chained like a felon, and I do not

112 CABINET OF THE HERMAPHRODITF.

know a p^reater : tho little wrotch calh 1.m;.11v for h^lp : but
he who ever felt his power would rather double his lN:>nd^.
This coHectioii was made bv Co?tiio the Fir^t, anionir which
you iiiid a bust of himself.

TuK (\\iuM:r ov thi: I If^irm aphrodite. — Amiable mo-

de^'tv, double wow \onv veil, or dare n it to enter, if vou
• * •

\uuild refrMin from bbi*»hlnt;- with coii^ci'^u-s shame and de-
hL;ht ! \<^\! !o the \ euus. this, perhaps, is the statue of the
iMDst d«'lieMt<» pi'oportiouv fliat exists. Here vou likewise
find u uni«|Ui» eoUeetioii of tlu* ])ortraits ofarti-ts |)ainted bv
themselves. 'I'hose \>hieli most interest an Enirlishman are
Sir Joshua, /othmi, and Harlow. Zoffani has made a picture
of the subject. Before leavin^^ this apartment, cast a glance
at the beautiful Vigee \v Ibun, C'anova, and Salvator Rosa.
fhe portrait of the last sur|>rised me; for instead of the
rugged features of an ascetic savage, which I expected to see,
Salvator's countenance is, on the contrary, extremely Dleasin"-
Ihe adjoining room is likewise studded with portraits, in the
ooiitre of which stands a su])erb anticjue vase with bas-reliefs,
•vpresenting the sacrifice of Iphigenia.

For the paintings in the WMietian and other schools, I
•iiu>t refer to the Appendix.

Fiking leave of this sph^ndid collection of all that is great

i.Ki hcautiful in art, and which in viewing makes the human

. i.d proud of its powers, calls to mind an anecdote I was

• . \\\\cn at I'lorence, of an I'Jiglishman, relating to it.

r travelling, or rather posting, countrymen was

day by an acquaintance as he was stej)pinfi^

X, ,;\ jntsfc from luatherstonehaugh's, in his

w hru the following characteristic dialogne

VS Fk*'* ' \ou here?" *' Yes, my boy,'' quoth

. , . I i\»i Kome. I came here, dVe see, the day

X . A dx trrniined to see what is to be seen;

' ■i'.,iM to snooze all the way to the Eternal

. / m curiv)sities as I have done here."

. .\ ot" tlie (iallery, Bob?" asked his

. 1 v' ^^•|oined Bob, ''what's that.'"

" > >n

K -'lu-r

\ >

LOGGIA DE' LANZI — PALAZZO VECCHIO. 113

" What! have you not seen the Venus?" " Not I; but,
well minded, I will though." So Bob ordered the postilion
to driv^e to the gallery: he ran up the stairs, and in five
minutes was back again. '' Well," said Bob to his friend,
as he bade him good-bye, *^ they can't now say, when I get
back to Old England, that IhaiCt seen the Wenus!"

Close to the gallery is the Loggia db* Lavzi. This hand-
some portico was built by the architect Andrea Orcagna, so
early as the year 1365. It is here that, on St. John's day,
the grand dukes receive the homage of all the communities
of Tuscany. Under the arcades stand three magnificent
statues : the first is of bronze, by Donatello, of Judith cut-
ting off the head of Holofemes. The second, also of bronze,
represents Pbrsbus trampling on the body of Medusa, and
holding a sword in one hand, and her bleeding head in the
other. It is by Benyenuto Cellini, and exemplifies the per-
fect mastery of art, saving, perhaps, in the representation of
the blood which gushes from the head and trunk of Medusa,
for it resembles more the flame from an antique tripod altar,
than stalactites of gore clotted by death. The third is the
well-known group of the Rapb of thb Sabinbs, in marble,
by John de Bologna. Under the pedestal a bronze tablet
is let in, representing the same event in bas-relief, executed
by the same inimitable artist.

To the right of the Lo^a three colossal statues of marble
stand, in front of the Palazzo Vecchio. The one representing
David is by the chisel of Michael Angelo ; but he appears
to have failed in an appropriate conception of the subject,
for the figure may stand for any other character, take but
away his sling. The best apology for this is, that the artist
executed this gigantic statue when a mere youth. The two
others are by Bandinelli : one is Hbbculbs overcoming the
giant Cacus ; the other, a statue of Nbptunb in his car,
drawn by four sea-horses; and the font, in the centre of
which this statue is placed, is surrounded by four bronze
figures, emblematical of the course of the Amo. But, in
my opinion, no statues could well be more misplaced. The
giant-killers, David and Hercules, stand sentry at the palace-

1 1 1- 1 roiu:N( i: — Tin: ( aihkdual.

L:at(', imd IkIow ihciii ym stt* a couple of liviiiir piirniy
uijuidiiciil ^ivnadicis, with iuii>kc'ts over their phoukler>,
walkinu" ahoiit as if in iiioekery ol' their duty- Neptune,
auain, stainU in the midst of a fountain without water,
like a eau'cd ])olar hear. Were this marine deity in his
a|)j»r(n>rlale situation, he ought to he on the sea-heach,
eanopied only hy a stormy sky, or standing on the edge of
some lofty weather-heaten rock, whose precipitous base repels
the rolling' sur^e. Had fate ordained me an artist, 1 would
not have envied Bandinelli his taste, which, to say the most
for it, i>> of a elumsv, unwieldv, and colossal cast, as if euixen-
dered in the caves of the Cyclops. His statues are only fitted
to adoiMi the brim of the crater of a volcano during an
eruption. Let such hideous figures anmse themselves in
])layiiig at snow-halls with an avalanche, or at shuttle-cock
with a knoh of one of the Alps, if they will ; and when tired
of tlu'ir s|)()rts, the merry monsters might refresh themselves
Iw swelt<'ring in a hath of molten lava, (iive me, again,
for mv taste, to frolic with Alhani's nvmidis in a nu^adow^
checkt'red with dairies and cowslips — now chasing a hutter-
Mv — now a svli)hoid wench, in lau<'hini;, innocent, breath-
less deliLiht : and \\iien exhausted bv exceeding: iov, Hebe,
thou loNely creation of Canova's ethereal fancy, give me a
goblet of nectar — or, sweeter far, a kiss !

The DroMo. — This celebrated cathedral is built upon
the ancient site of the Campus Martins of the Florentine

I'Jrurians. It was begun a.d. 1*298, as we learn from an
inscription on that part of the exterior wall which faces the
Cam])anella, under the direction of Arnolfo di Lapo, u pu])il
of Cimabue, and finished, in one hundred and fifty years,
by other celebrated architects who succeeded him. The
entire of this noble edifice is coated with beautifully varied
marble, synnnetrically disj)osed. In the interior a solemn
twilight reigns, where the statues of the four Evangelists, by

Donatello, standing in the middle tribune, aj)pear like the
spirits of the dead.

It has been obiected to the Duomo by some travellers,

TOSCANELLl's MERIDIAN — M.ANGELo's PIETA. 115

that it is gloomy and druidical; How far this is to be con-
sidered a defect, depends so much upon taste, that no single
opinion can have pretence to decide. For my part, a certain
degree of obscurity appears almost essential to the full fer-
Tour of adoration. We love to kneel alone, in the stillness
and privacy of night — to impart our griefe to Omnipotent
Benevolence, asking solace in our afflictions : we seek the
shade of solitude to confess our manifold sins — to offer up
our thankfulness for some unmerited good, or to implore
remission of some past transgression ; which we would not,
or could not do in any other place, or to any other confidant ;
and to all of which the sombreness pervading the interior of
this sanctuary appears eminently favourable and appropriate.
This church is divided into three naves, terminating in
corresponding tribunes of an octahedral form. In that of
the Holy Cross, observe a circle of marble on the pavement,
upon which, at the summer solstice, a sun-ray falls, passing
through an aperture in the lantern of the dome. This is
ToscAKBLLi's FAMOUS MERIDIAN, ouc of the first and oldest
in Europe. The majestic cupola raises its lofty canopy over
the tribunes, ornamented with frescos by Vasari and Zuc-
cheri. The choir corresponds beneath, of the design of Bru-
nelleschi, but executed by Baccio. It is of the Ionic order,
and constructed of variegated marbles, crowned by an elegant
border, supported on columns whose bases are enriched with
bas*relie&, from the chisels of Bandinelli and Giovanni dell'
Opera. Over the grand altar are three statues in marble,
by Bandinelli; and behind it, facing the middle tribune,
you see the last work of Michael Angelo — it is a Pieta,
supported in the arms of the Virgin and the Magdalen.
Every limb lies in the lax attitude of death ; the head has
Mien upon the shoulder ; the left arm is twisted with the
elbow in front, and there is no articulation but what de-
notes the complete separation of the divine essence from
the mortality it had put on. This admirable group, though
unfinished, does not less evince the superior genius of the
artist ; and every frightful trait tells that it is an exact copy
of some corpse that had sat for the portrait.

116 CAMPANELLA — BAPTISTERY OF ST. JOHN,

Against the wall of the left aisle there is a full-length
portrait of the poet Dante, crowned ^ith laurels, painted
by Paolo Orcagna, and placed here by a decree of the re-
public, with some indifferent Latin verses beneath, by Sain-
tati. Over the middle porch of the fa9ade there is an
ancient mosaic painting, by Gaddo Gaddi ; and near the
door in the right aisle you see two medallion portraits : one
of Giotto, the reviver of the art of painting, and architect
of the Campanella, with some verses underneath, written
by the famous Politian, which begin :

** I lie ego sum per quern pictura extincta rsTixit,'' &c.

The other of Philip Brunelleschi, the architect of thtf cupola.

Close to, but insulated from, the church, stands the Cam-
PAVELLA, a Gothic tower, one of the most celebrated in Italy.
It was designed by Giotto, and it is difficult to conceive any
thing of its kind more elegant or beautiful. This edifice is
also coated with differently coloured marbles, forming divers
beautiful designs, and its sides are embellished with figures
by Donatello, Giottino, Andrea Pisano, and Luca della
Robbia.

Opposite the Duomo stands the ancient B aptistbby op St.
John. You enter it by three bronze doors ; that facing the
cathedral, and the other opposite the column of San Zanobi,
are those which Michael Angelo called the gates of Paradise :
they were made by Ghiberti, after designs by Amolfo di
Lapo. The third, which fronts the Bigallo, is more ancient
still, and was executed by Andrea, the son of the celebrated
Nicola Pisano, from designs by Giotto, the subjects of which
are taken from the Old and New Testament. The two
columns of porphyry which are placed before the principal
entrance, were presented by the Pisanese to the Florentines,
on their return from the conquest of the islands of Majorca
and Minorca in 1117; and the chains which are suspended
to them are trophies of the valour of the Florentines at the
taking of the port of Pisa, of which they formed the entrance.
Sixteen antique columns, with their capitals, sustain a gallery
which surrounds the interior : between these are statues of

PALACE RICCARDI. 117

the TwBLVB Apostles, and of the Law of Nature and the
Written Law, by Ammannato. Under the arch of the
tribune^ and over the grand altar, you see a statue repre*
senting the apotheosis of St. John, encircled by a glory
of angels, by Ticciati.

The baptismal font is extremely elegant, and richly
sculptured, opposite to which is the tomb that contains the
remains of Baldassar Coscia, who, under the name of John
XXII., died at Florence, a.d. 1418, after having, in 1416,
renounced the pontificate and delivered up the keys at the
council of Constance. The tomb and sculpture are by Do-
natello, except the statue of Faith, which is by his pupil
Michelozzo. Above, you read the following epitaph :

JOHANNES * QUONDAM ' PAPA

XXII * OBIIT * FLOBENTIAE

ANNO* DOMINI* MCCCCXVIII * XI '

KALENDAS * lANVARII -

Observe a statue in wood of the Magdalen penitent over an
altar, likewise the workmanship of Donatello ; and the rich
mosaic dome by the hand of Gaddo Gaddi.

As a relief to the grandeur and pomp of an Italian cathe-
dral, I went to visit the Palace Riccardi. This is one of
the largest and most beautiful edifices in Florence, combining
the Tuscan, Doric, and Corinthian orders in its structure,
terminated at top by an elegant cornice;

Here it was that the arts had their birth, and where the
liberty of Florence expired — the tomb of liberty was the
cradle of the fine arts. This palace formerly contained an
infinity of fine paintings, sculptures, and inscriptions. They
have all been removed ; but the ceiling of the gallery re-
mains, and merits a visit from the stranger. The subject is
allegorical, representing The Dsstiny of Man, painted in
fresco, by Luca Jordano. Destiny, Time, the Fates, and
Nature, appear in the attitude of expectation. Destiny passes
a sign to Time, Time to the Fates ; their spindle turns round,
and in the arms of Nature you now see an infant. Prome-
theus approaches and shakes his torch over it — 'tis the

118 THE CHURCHES — SAN LORENZO.

spark of life. Already the child creeps at the feet of Natnre
— it gets up — walks — and wishes to leave its nurse. Na-
ture tries in vain to retain it — in vain she weeps. He gets
fi^rther and farther o£F, and soon wanders astray : two ways
open to him — that of Virtue and of Vice ; the one, steep,
rugged, and thorny; the other, carpeted with flowers, and
presenting every enticing pleasure. Is it necessary to tell
which he takes ? Human nature answers for us all ! De-
lightful allegory ! Truth never put on a veil more brilliant
or diaphanous.

Church of San Lorekzo. — ^This church was built in the
time of the Emperor Theodosius, at the expense of one Giu-
liana, a rich and devout widow. It was consecrated by St.
Ambrose, archbishop of Milan, in 393, and was then called
the Basilica Ambrosiana. The ancient temple being destroyed
by fire, the present edifice was erected by John de' Medici
and his son Cosmo the Great, after the plan of Brunelleschi.

Referring the reader to the Appendix for the more minute
details, as indeed I purpose doing in all other matters where
these are tedious, let him accompany me into the

Capella db' Principi. — It was Leo X. who diarged
Michael Angelo with its construction, and it was begun at
the expense of Clement VII., who destined it for the sepulchre
of his family. This chapel is remarkable for the fine statuary
which adorns the tombs of the two brothers, Giulio and
Lorenzo de Medicis, executed by the architect of this mag-
nificent mausoleum. The statue of Lorenzo occupies a niche
over the tomb : he is represented seated in a position of
inimitable ease, resting his head on his hand ; and, by the
shade of contemplation thrown over his features, this figure
is commonly known by the name of il Pbnsbroso. Below,
you see the statues of Day and Night. Facing these repose
the statues of Twilight and Dawn, on the tomb of Giulio.
Night is represented asleep, and an owl stands watch by her
side. A foreigner, on first seeing this beautiful statue, wrote
with his crayon on the plinth beneath — '^ She sleeps, but she
lives ; if thou dost not believe it, awake her, and she will

CAPELLA DE' PRINCIPI — THE STATUES. 119

speak to thee." To which the artist, in the character of Night,
replied, " Awake me not; it is so sweet for me to sleep, and
sweeter still to be a stone ! So long as injustice and shame
reign, it is a blessing neither to see nor to hear. Then, for
pity's sake, awake me not: speak low — I wish to sleep."
The statue of Day is, like many other of Michael Angelo's
works, unfinished. The head and features are imperfectly
made out, but the attitude in which the body reposes is
admirable. What the head would have expressed when
finished, would require a genius as profound and original as
the artist's to surmise. Opposite lie Twilight and Dawn.
Dawn has not yet drawn up the curtains of her eyes, and
yet you can perceive that the active principle of life is
awake — it stirs the drowsy limbs — it vermiculates among the
muscles, and tingles in every sense. The whole body begins
to unfold itself, like the closed petals of a flower to the first
kiss of Day, while the features expand into that kind of
dubious expression which the refreshened soul evinces when
it begins to recover its consciousness. What a sublime con-
ception must that man have had who could bend the uncouth
stone to represent a moment and situation which the most
vivid unagmation, by a strong creative effort, can picture one
moment only, to vanish the next, and, like a globule of
quicksilver on a polished surface, try but to sieze it, and it
flies the farther off! On the other side lies Twilight. The
features have fallen into an expression of still, contemplative
sombreness, as if Evening had thrown her mantle of grey over
the radiant countenance of wearied Light, as he prepares to
couch to rest for the night. This statue has assumed the
position of repose t the right leg is thrown over the opposite
knee ; and unaffected truth and nature pervade every listless
muscle. Nothing can be more correct than the anatomy,
or more chaste in taste than what these inimitable groups
exemplify. Here also you see a statue of the Virgin and
Child, by Buonarotti. Michael Angelo, full of his subject,
seldom diverts or divides your attention from the main im-
pression he aims to make ; hence the infant Christ in this

120 CAPELLA REALE DEI 8EP0LCRI.

composition, however perfect and beaulifuly becomes, by the
skilful management of the artist, a secondary object of your
regard : the eye is thus left disengaged and unembarrassed ;
the feelings are hence directed to, and absorbed in, one object
of admiration, and the visiter has only to behold this Virgin
of Buonarotti's to be sensible how completely he becomes the
unconscious automaton of the sculptor's art. The counte*
nance of the Virgin beams with divine benignity ; and as yoa
gaze on it, you involuntarily exclaim, *^ So ought to be repre>
sented the mother of the glorious Propitiator I ''

A passage leads from this chapel into a goi^geoua and
most magnificent rotunda, called the Capblla Rbalb obi
Sepolcri. It was built by the Grand Duke Ferdinand the
First, thinking he might be able to transport thither from
Jerusalem the holy sepulchre ; but the Turks hearing of his
project, took precautions to defeat the noble enterprise.

On the stranger's first entering it, he is struck dumb by
the magnificence and astonishing workmanship which present
themselves on all sides. A superb basement or continued
pedestal surrounds the entire building, upon which rise the
principal pilasters, of jasper from Braga, the bases and
capitals of which are of bronze. The cornice is of beautiful
granite from the island of Elba, the border of Flanders
pierre de touche, and the letters, which are let in, of giallo
antico. Around the interior you see the arms of the principal
cities of Tuscany, formed of the most precious stones and
marbles, of lapis lazuli, giallo antico, verd antique, pierre
de touche, oriental alabaster, lumacfaella, &c. Below, there
is a subterranean chapel, which, when finished, is to contain
the bodies in recesses corresponding with the monuments
above.

On returning to the body of the church, observe the
richness of the grand altar, over which is placed a Crucifix
by John de Bologna, between a holt Virgin, by Michael
Angelo, and a St. John, by one of his scholars. On going
out by the door which leads to the Canonica, you see a statue
of Giovio, the celebrated historian, sculptured by San Oallo.

STA. CROCE — ALFIERI'S TOMB. 121

A staircase opens from the canonica to the Mediceo-Laa-
rentian library, the vase of which was constructed after the
design of Buonarotti.

Church op Santa Croce. — Thb splendid edifice is the
Westminster Abbey of Florence ; and were it any where else,
it might be called the gallery, it is so rich in paintings by the
first masters of the Florentine school. The architect of the
cathedral, Amofo di Lapo, was also the artist who planned
this church. Here it is that we find the Tomb op Michael
Angelo. At the foot of a sarcophagus you see the statues
of Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting, in attitudes of
deepest affliction, surmounted by a bust of this great man,
of a bold style of sculpture, with a triple coronet of laurel
on each side. Of the three statues it is difficult to say which
is most graceful : Sculpture seems most disconsolate.

Next to AK EccE Homo, at whom the Jews are pointing
in scorn, by Del Meglio, you find the Tomb of the Italian
Sophocles, Alfibri* It is by the chisel of Canova. This
superb monument consists of a sarcophagus, ornamented at
the corners with tragic masks, in the front of which you see,
under a laurel crown, a medallion profile of Alfieri, encom-
passed by his name. By the side of, and leaning on, the
sarcophagus, stands a majestic semi - colossal statue of a
female of whitest marble, resting her head on her hand in
an attitude of grief, and never was grief depicted with more
majestic grace. A mural crown is on her head, and at her *
feet diflerent fruits lie strewed in profusion, enibleniatical of
the fecundity of the author's genius. This monument was
erected to the memory of Alfieri, by Louisa, Countess of
Albany ; and the liaison which subsisted between these two
illustrious persons in life is continued even on the tomb :

VICTORXO* ALFIEEO* ASTEM9I*
ALOISA - £ - PRINCIPIBUS ' STOLBEROIS *
ALBANIAE * COMITESSA *
M. P. C. AN. MDCCCX.

A little farther on, and you come to the Tomb of
Machiavbl.

122 MACIIIAVCL AND GALlLEo's TOMK.

On a l{ir<jje and beautiful sarcophagus sits tlie Genius ol*
Politv, rcstinii" her v\<j:\\t liand on a niedallion likeness of this
celebrated writer ; on the pedestal of wliicli you read the
I'ollowing simple inscription :

TANTO • NOMINI ' MI, I. I'M ' PAR " FLOGIUM.

MCOIAI'S • MACHIAVrLLr

OBIU. AN. A. P. V. CK>rJXXVII.

Spinazzi was the sculptor. These splendid monuments are
against the wall of the aisle to the right as you enter. In
that to the left you find the Tomu of the immortal Galileo,
which encloses likewise the ashes of his pupil, the celebrated
mathematician Viviani.

Over an inscription beginning,

GAIILAtrS • GAT.lLril'S ' PAIIIIC* FLOR.'

(.KUMr.TniAi:' ASIHONOMIAK- IMIILOSOPIIIAE* MAMMIS- RESriTL'TOU-

NVLLI • AETATIS* SUAE * ( OMPARANDUS*

IIH • BENE • gi I ESC AT- tVc.

there is a sarcophagtis of fine Siena marble, surmounted by
a bust of Galileo, holding a telescope in his right hand : his
left rests on a globe, under which is a diagram of the solar
system of this immortal astronomer. His eyes are turned
towards the heavens, as if watching the planets in their flight,
even in the grave. Two statues of Astuonomy and her sister
Geometry lean on the tomb.

Among the many fine paintings that adorn the altars,
remark a splendid painting of the Martyrdom of St. Law-
rence, by Ligozzi ; the figure of the martyr is surpassing
fine: Christ's Entrance into Jerusalem, from the joint
pencils of Cigoli and Biliverti ; note the rich tone of the
colouring, and the fine perspective shewn through the gate-
ww^ Perspective in painting is always i)leasing : it is like
hope in life. We delight in the prospect of misty distance,
by its affording imagination scope to fill it up with visions
of one's own creation. The Scepticism of St. Thomas, bv
Vasari, is another excellent painting. Observe the breadtli
in the casting of the drn))ery, the warmth of the colouring,
and the varied expression in the countenances of the other

TOMB OF THE COUNTESS OF ALBANY. 123

apostles. Here also is a fine AscBifsiON, by Stradano, and
THE CoMiKG OF THE HoLY Ghost, by Vasari, in which a
choir of angels; of exquisite beauty and in attitudes of the
utmost grace, strew twigs of myrtle down on the group
below. Salviati has a Descent remarkable for its fine
grouping, soft and charming tone of colouring, and beauty
of the sweetest cast, intermixed with grief sunk down into
that state of stupor which is left after the first great agony
has passed away. Santi di Tito's Crucifixion, which is next
to the last, though a highly toned painting, is not so skilfully
composed. There is a striking and offensive sameness in the
position of the three crucified figures, and too strong a resem*
blance to one another in the countenances of St. Peter and
the Virgin. Bronzino's Christ about to be conveyed to
the Tomb, is a most superb painting, and is intended for
the gallery.

There are several chapels on each side of the grand altar,
with paintings by (Jaddi, Giotto, and Giottino, near to which
is the magnificent chapel of the Niccolini family. It is
entirely coated with beautiful Carrara marble of admirable
workmanship, and inhabited by five fine statues representing
Moses, Aaron, Chastity, Prudence, and Humility, by Fran-
cavilla, the favourite pupil of John de Bologna. The two
paintings of the Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin
are by Alexander Allori ; the first is particularly excellent.
On the dome of this chapel you see the four Sibyls, painted
in fresco, with the perfection of a master, by Volterrano.
Over the altar which follows, stands Donatello's celebrated
Crucifix.

In the sacristy and the neighbouring corridors you see
several ancient paintings by Cimabue and Giotto. At the
farther end of an open passage you find the place where
Louisa Countess of Albany, the last scion of the Stuarts, lies
in unconsecrated ground ; and in the opposite comer they
shew the place where the body of Galileo lay, whilst his
grand discoveries in astronomy caused him to be deemed and
treated as a heretic. In an apartment adjoining you see the
celebrated painting of St. Cecilia, by Carlo Dolce. Her

124 FLORENCE — CHURCH OF THE ANNUNZIATA.

whole countenance is of the most enchantmg cast, and on her
mouth, so sweet and beauteous,

'* — the lip would linger, like some bee
Sipping a iavourite flower;"

for there the spirit of melody itself seems to form an atmo-
sphere around it for her voice to vibrate on.

Church of the Annukziata. — This ancient chaTx^h
occupies the north side of the piazza of the same name.
First observe, before entering the church, a bronze eqae»-
trian statue of the Grand Duke Ferdinand the First, in the
centre of the square, by John de Bologna. On the girth of
the horse you read :

DEI METALLI RAPITI AL FIERO TRACE.

A beautiiul covered gallery forms the outer fa9ade of the
church, so light and airy in its architecture, that it merits
to be tacked to the hem of the Virgin s garment, and taken
upwards in Volterrano's Assumption. From this you pass into
a court, or cloister, painted by the first artists of the day :
those by Del Sarto are especially fine ; in one * of which he
introduces a portrait of himself; and in auother,f that of
his wife.

On entering the interior, the stranger is struck with the
rich and massive elegance which presents itself on all sides.
On the ceiling you see splendid gilt reliefs on a white ground,
after designs by Silvani ; and in the middle there is a noble
painting of the Assumption, by Volterrano. On turning to
the left, you find the magnificent chapel of the Annunciation.
The altar is of massive silver, richly chased, as well as the
step before it, which is enriched with jewels and precious
stones. In a tabernacle you see a head of our Saviour, by
Del Sarto. On two large columns of alabaster rest a rich
architrave, with its cornice of silver, from which depends
a curtain of admirable workmanship; and the whole is
illuminated* by lamps of solid silver. Off the chapel there is
a little oratory of an astonishing richness. The whole of its

* The Offering of the Magi. f 1*he Birth of the Virg;in.

TOMB OF JOHN DE BOLOGNA. ] 25

walls are lined with agates, oriental chalcedony and jaspers,
representing emblems of the holy Virgin . Two slabs of
dasky blue marble represent the Stella Maris, and Pulchra
ut Luna. Their colour well depicts the veil of night, with a
sky speckled here and there by light clouds of white. On
one you see a crescent moon in mother-of-pearl; on the
other, a golden star shedding its soft chaste rays over a
rippled ocean of sombre blue* From this you pass into the
chapel of the Feroni family, and behold the altar-piece by
Carlo Lotti, representing the Agony of St. Joseph. But for
the numerous fine paintings in this church, I must, as usual,
refer to the Appendix ; suffice it to name a chef-dCcsuvre of
Stradano's, of the Crucifixion ; a Universal Judgment,
by Alexander Allori; and a Resurrection, by Angiolo
Bronzino. On the dome of the Tribune, Volterraoo has
depicted the Virgin at the moment of her assumption into
heaven, crowned by the Holy Trinity, surrounded by the
patriarchs, prophets, and saints of the Old and New Testar
ment. This artist painted the above at a very advanced
age ; yet age seems to have brightened, rather than dimmed,
the splendour of his imagination ; for nothing can well exceed
the fineness of the design, the beauty and brilliancy of the
colouring, or the vivid invention shewn in its conception.
The choir is immediately under the dome, with the Grand
Altar in front, on which stands a mc^ificeat pyx of silver,
ornamented with figures in bas-relief, vases, statues, and
different precious ornaments.

This church contains the ashes of two celebrated artists,
John de Bologna and Baccio Bandinelli. The first lies in
the chapel of the Iloly Cross, immediately at the feet
of one of his chefs-dCceuvrej a crucifixion in bronze, round
which you see six tablets, also of bronze, by the same great
artist. These represent : 1st, Christ brought before Pilate ;
2dly, Pilate washing his hands ; 3dly, Christ bound, with
the Jews crying " Crucify him ! " 4thly, the Scourging of
Christ ; 6thly, Christ crowned with thorns ; and, lastly,
Christ falling under the weight of his Cross as he bears it to
Mount Calvary, while St. Veronica wipes his face with her

12<) T>")Mi'. or r.ANi'iNKLM — Tin: madonna del sacco.

lir.ihlkeiviru'f. The tomb of Baiidiiielli is in the cliapel
o Urd afn r \\]< name. It 1^ adorned with a Dead Christ,
-n|>]>r)rt»-d (in the knees of Xicodemns. This group is bv
r>nnd;nt4]i him-elf, and the liead of Xicodemus is a poiirait
of tlu' arti-t. The cloisters of the convent, attached to the
clunvh of the Nimziata, are extremely rich in frescos; and
herr vou sre tlie celebrated Madonna del Sacco, bv Del
Sarto. It i^ so called from Josej)h leaning on a sack, intro-
duced bv the artist, from a sack of flour beins: the wasfes
he rcct'ivt'd i\>v paintini^ it. I confess I was somewhat dis-
aj^jxiintt'd on seeinix this well-known fresco. Its greatest
nierit, in niv judLrment, consists in the extraordinary relief
it pos.-cs^cs, and the tine casting of the drapery ; other-
wise tlie \'ii'gin appears a very countrified girl — heavy,
coar>e, and uood-natured, without one trait of divinity about
her — the carpenter's wife, in short. The infant Jesus, again,
seems to l>e makinu* a Lrreat noise about nothins: at all ; whilst
.losepli very sulM^rsidedly contents himself, as he leans his
ellwjw on the sack, with dozinL? over a book. Michael Anjjrelo
greatlv admired this ])ainting, and so he did every thing that
had nature and stren!::th about it ; this celebrated fresco
possesses l>oth, Init without one touch of inspiration.

There are three fine frescos by the graceful pencil of
SahMubeni : that which represents Clement IV. granting the
lirst indulgence to the church of the Nunziata is exceed-
ingly fine : what attitudes are here for the player to study!
Another (,by Uosselli, if 1 mistake not) commemorates the
miracle of the painter Bartolomeo and the Angel. The artist,
while painting the subject of the Annt nciatiox for the
oratory of the convent, being unable to depict the idea he
had conceived, fell asleep in despair; and when he awoke, he
found an angel at work, giving it the cotfp de grace. This
occui'red in 1*252 ; and miracles were rathcn' rife in those davs.
This angelic painting rendered the church of tlie Annunciation
a J dace of pilgrimage formerly, on account of the miracles it
performed ; but the wonder-working aroma has evaporated
like the dream that <i:ave birth to the talc.

The cliurch of J^anta Maria Nuova contains a few fine

CHURCHES OF S. M. NUOVA AND NOVELLA. 127

paintings, particularly the Martyrdom op St. Barbara, by
Buti, in which the calmness of resignation is beautifully per-
sonified ; a Descent, in which angels alone assist, by Alex.
AUori; St. Akthony and the Infant Jesus, by Ficherelli,
a deep and richly toned painting ; and a Virgin and Child,
with St. Agnes, St. Cecilia, and others, by Allori. The
High Altar is of Carrara marble, of great beauty, adorned
with a pyx representing a church in miniature, constructed
of the richest marbles, inlaid with lapis lazuli, standing on a
pedestal equally beautiful, and the whole surmounted by a
crucifix, thought to be by Giovanni Bologna.

The Church of S. M. Novella is remarkable as con-
taining THE FIRST WORK of Cimabuc. It is a figure of the
Vii^n. The reader is, perhaps, aware that Cimabue was the
inventor of painting in oils; and this painting, therefore, is
considered a very great curiosity.

I looked in vain for the tombs of Boccacio and Peter the
Martyr, who are said by some writers to lie buried here. In
the transept to the right lies the body of the patriarch Joseph,
who died at Rorence in 1440, whilst attending the council
convoked by Eugene IV., for the union of the Greek and
Latin churches.

There are many fine paintings adorning different altars,
among which I may note a sublime painting of St. Vincent
Preaching, by Del Meglio ; St. Raymond restoring a child
to life, by Ligozzi ; three charming paintings of the Birth,
Presentation and Descent, by the elegant pencil of
Naldini ; Christ and the Woman of Samaria, by Alex.
Allori; a Resurrection, by Vasari ; and Christ raising
from the dead the daughter of the Archisynagogus,
by the superb pencil of Bronzino.

In the same chapel with Cimabue's Madonna, there is a
painting by Bugiardini, but designed by Michael Angelo.
The subject is the representation of a miracle. You see three
martyrs dead or dying, who had undergone the torture of
the wheel : the Holy Virgin is calling for the interference
of heaven : an angel appears in the sky, from whom a stream
of light issues down, and the instruments of torture are

128 COLONNA DI 8* TRINITA.

instantly broken in pieces. A group of soldiers in the fore-
ground admirably represents the various expressions of terror.
Over the grand altar, between two beautiful columns of
marble, you see an Assumptiok, by Sabatelli. The five
paintings in the choir are by Ghirlandaio, and depict passages
in the lives of the Virgin and St. John the Baptist. Here
the artist, has taken occasion to introduce the portraits of
several celebrated persons. In the first to the right, where
the angel appears to Zacharias, the figure with one hand
raised is Angelo Politian, the famous reformer: in another,
where Joachim is driven out of the temple, Ghirlandaio has
introduced a portrait of himself, in the figure in the blue
and red mantle : the old man in the red cap is his master
Baldovinetti : he with the black head of hair is his pupil
Gemignano ; and in some of the others he has placed the
portraits of Peter, John, and Laurence de' Medici. In this
church you also see the fine Crucifix carved in wood by
Brunelleschi, on the occasion of his famous dispute with
Donatello. Near to this, you ascend by steps to the chapel
painted in fresco by the two brothers Andrew and Bernard
Orcagna. One is a representation of the joys of Fabadisk,
the other of the torments of Hell. They are both singu-
larly curious for the manner in which they are treated. In
the latter, you see Charon's boat ferrying across the Styx with
the damned; and in another part, the wicked cast into a
lake of fire, with centaurs on its shores amusing themselves
in shooting at them with bows and arrows.

In the Spanish chapel, in the cloisters of the convent
attached to this church, among many fine frescos, observe
the portraits of Cimabue and Memmi, painted by Memmi
himself. For some notice of several other remarkable churches
in Florence, I must refer the reader to the end of the volume.

There are several detached objects of ai*t in different parts
of the city meriting examination.

The Colonna di S. Trinita is a fine granite column of
the Doric order, surmounted by a graceful statue of Justice,
in porphyry by Del Tadda, presented by Pope Pius IV. to
Cosmo the First from the baths of Caracalla. There is a

PALAZZO PITTI — THE DOBOLI GARDENS. 129

maid-and-a^magpie sort of story told of this statue of Justice,
about something that was stolen, of a person being con*
demned for the theft, and of the property being afterwards
firand in one of the scales she holds in her hand.

Crossing the Ponte Vecchio, you come to the Fountain of
the Centaur, so called from a group which ornaments it,
representing Herculbs killing the Cbntaur Nbssus, by
John de Boloena. It is chiselled out of one block of marble,
and is justly esteemed one of the artist's finest works.

A little fiuther on, and you arrive at the Palazzo Pitti.
This is one of the largest and most majestic palaces in Italy.
It was commenced in 1440, after designs by Brunelleschi, for
the residence of a Florentine nobleman, whose name it still
bears. Its whole exterior fagade is of the Tuscan order, and
its interior contains many splendid paintings by the first
masters. Here it is that the traveller will find Raphael's
celebrated Madonna della Seggiola, i> Impbgnato, his
portrait of Leo the Tenth, and the Vision of Ezbkiel ;
besides abundance of other fine paintings by Salvator Rosa,
Rubens, Schidone, Giulio Romano, Carlo Maratta, Guido,
Dolce, and others of the same high class. The boudoir of
the grand*dutchess contains Ca nova's Venus ; but this cele-
brated statue will bear no comparison, in my judgment, with
the divine Venus of the Tribune. Though modest certainly,
yet the goddess looks as if sensible of her nakedness ; and as
she shrouds her beauties from sight, she seems as if aware of
your beholding her. The dorsal view is the finest, or facing
her as she looks aside. The view in front is spoilt by the
drapery, which, however decorous, gives an ungraceftil flat-
ness to the figure ; and as your eye instinctively drops, it
iails on limbs that are coarse when compared with those of
the Grecian Venus, every contour of which, as you endeavour
to gaze, is so slippery and fine, that the eye glides off the
polished surface like tears from the cheek of sobbing girl-
hood.

The BoBOLi Gardes, behind the palace, are open to
the public twice a-weelc — on Thursdays and Sundays ; and
besides the fine exuberant statue of Abundance, which we

K

130 MUSEUM — ZUMBO'S PICTURES.

formerly noticed, there is one of Oceak in another part of the
gardens, likewise by John de Bologna. It is placed in the
centre of a parterre, surrounded by a pool of water ; and at
the upper comers of the pedestal on which it stands, there
sit statues of the Ganges, Euphrates, Danube, and the Nile.
This statue, though both superb and imposing, shews some
awkward angles, especially about the left lower extremity,
when viewed in certain positions ; and in my opinion, the
general effect would be improved by removing the pet^
parterre about it, and encompassing it wholly with water. A
statue of Ocean looking at daisies is not quite in character.
Let Fiamingo's Infant Cupids make posies of them : Ocean,
again, ought to play with a whirlwind in his hand, or kick
about mountain billows with his feet.

Not far from the Palace Pitti is the Museum of Natural
History. This museum was founded by the munificence
of the Grand Duke Leopold ; and its different chambers are
enriched with rare specimens belonging to each of the three
grand kingdoms of nature : but what gives it most singularity
is, the inimitable collection of preparati(ms in wax of the
different parts of the human frame, executed principally by
the artist Susini. These last occupy the first seven rooms,
besides another suite which contain demonstrations of every
muscle separately, with its origin and insertion, and a fine
collection of models of the different stages of pregnancy, from
the foetus fifteen days* old from conception, till the full period
of gestation : but for the particulars of these, and other objects
of curiosity, I must refer the reader, as usual, to the Appen*
dix. There is only one room which I cannot so summarily
dismiss — that in which the traveller finds those pictures in
wax, the offspring of the most extraordinary imagination that
ever embodied its horrible conceptions,—*! mean Zumbo's re*
presentation of the plague of Florence.

From a room containing a small collection of savage
ornaments and weapons, you enter a small cabinet, round
which you see ranged some Egyptian mummies, and several
small wax statues, exhibiting the different layers of muscles.
Here it is you find what ought to mortify the overweeningneas

MUSEUM — ZUMBO'S PICTURES. 131

of all human vanity, and of what disgusting ingredients the
utmost beauty of proud mortality is composed, when struck
with the poisoned dart of Death. The artist iiitroduces the
horrid picture of a plague, with the representation of a
young man, with a fillet bound across his eyes to hide
firom his sight a dead corpse which he carries in his arms to
the general charnel-house, where the dying are seen lying
under piles of the dead in horrible confusion. He stops his
breath, lest he should inhale the mortal contagion ; and as
he advances with his putrid burden, he holds back his head,
as if overcome with the deadly stench. An infant is seen
crying by the livid bosom of its expiring mother : in the back-
ground, men, women, and children, in different stages of
corruption, rest on the bare and worm-picked ribs of a gore*
stained skeleton. Horrified at this appalling picture, you turn
to another. Here a female sits on a tomb in an attitude of
disconsolate grief: hope and joy have left her eye tenantless
of beams, and, save the spectre Despair throwing an obscure
glare of light on the threshold of the sunken orbit, all within
is vacant, dark, and frightful. At her feet lies a skeleton,
with the gore dried on the bones. In front you see the car-
cass of a human being, livid, swollen, succulent with the
juices of putridity — dissolved, as it were, into a gelatinous
mass of corrupt concocted humours for crawling vermin to
wallow in : the abdomen has burst with the distension and
flatulence of putrefiEu;tive fermentation ; and a glutton of a
rat stands snuffing up the redolent halitus by the brink of
the horrid fissure. To the right you see a marble sarcopha-
gus, on the front of which is represented the proud triumph
of some hero, preceded and followed by a giddy, shouting
multitude. On it reposes the body of this candidate for
glorious immortality. Arise, heroes ! from your graves, and
look at it. The carcass of Renown, erst stuffed and em-
balmed with the aroma of &me even to cramming, and
fragrant with the breath of flattery, has become livid and
fetid, pufied up with putrid flatus, lacerated into shreds,
half-eaten : the bowels hang out, and a villanous rat tuga,
ravenous, at the disgusting morsel of tripe ! Skulls and

132 ML'SKUM ZUMIUKS PICTURES.

vnrions disjointed bones lie strewed about to make up the
inor/is innff/o, and the carcass of a doij^ even puts in its claim
to share tlie victory of the <j;rave. Did satire ever sting with
more point, for here it truly becomes '* the stlnfj/ of Death ?*'
The third and last represents Time with a sceptre in his hand
]K)inting to a corpse in which the humours of cankering
corruption have eva])orated, and the carcass become too
insipid for even the hungry rats to feed on. By its side
lies stretched another human figure, w^ith the crackling
ribs of a skeleton for its rickety, uneasy pillow. What a
contrast such a revolting scene as this makes with that repose
where the elastic heavings of a lover's respiration alone rocks
the cradle of the chest, and the soft sii^hinofs of ecstatic
nature forms the only lullaby ! Opposite to this lies another
corpse, bent double over a broken column. The figure of a
female occupies the foreground : she has not been long dead,
and over her bo?om you perceive a scorpion creeping, while
spiders rjin along her arms : her head rests on the decollated
tj*unk of a fallen statue, and clotted blood oozes from her
month and nose : dead children and skulls fill up the terrific
scene ; and the l)ody of one of the children is so bestirred with
maggots, as to give to it a frightful kind of animation : hard
l>y, you see a book in tatteis, on a scroll of which you read

Ol'l UA LMM
I l.l.OlU M

MgriNTni n.i.os.

An autograph note, of the great physiologist Haller, acquaints
the visitor with the name of the author of these most extra-
ordinary works of art. There is an anatomical ])reparation of
the head by the same arti^t, so real in its appearance as far to
surpass any thing of Sjisini's, wonderfully fine as they are.

Zumbo was a Sicilian monk, whose sepulchral imagina-
tion seems to have been engeiulered by brooding, in the
s(ditude of his cell, on images of death in their most ab-
horrent shape, until it got perverse and corrupt through the
unkindly contemjdation. That his genius was marvellous
and original, will readily be admitted by all who see his

THE CORSINI PALACE. 133

worksy and I have sometimes thought that it might bear a
parallel, in some respects, with that of Michael Angelo's :
both were distinguished for the utmost perfection in their
works : while Michael Angelo excels in the grandeur and
sublimity of his conception, Zumbo does* not less so in the
horrible character of his imagination, — both were, almost to
a iault, true to nature in her least inviting mood, and both
equally terrific in their images of death.

From the Museum I went to visit The Palace Corsini,
situated on the Lung' Amo, near the Ponte Carraja. This
magnificent palace, which ranks among the largest in Florence,
is of the Tuscan order, and is particularly rich in paintings,
produced by the tender heart, delicate imagination, and pa-
tiaat pencil of Dolce. His Poetry is, perhaps, the sweetest
painting that ever animated canvass. She wears a crown
of laurel round her temples, and an azure robe, spangled
with golden asterias, decks her fine person. Golden hair
and hazel eyes illuminate a countenance expressive of the
noblest simplicity, and beauty of the sweetest cast sheds
on every enamelled trait beams of the softest inspiration.
There is likewise a personification of Hope by the same
pencil, and a head of St. Cecilia. A stream of rays issues
firom the throat of the latter, typical of the notes of celestial
harmony, which, as you gaze, steal on the ear of imagina-
tion, and waft the enchanted beholder, on the wings of fancy,
to where even angels might listen with delight. Here, also,
are two fine Marine Views, by Salvator Rosa ; Cupids in
a landscape, by Albani ; and Fortuke, by Michael Angelo.
Fortune is seated on her wheel, blindly distributing her
favours, holding a crown of laurel in one hand, and strewing
ivy leaves with the other. Capricious dame ! jade, I could
call you ! throw me, in pity, but one withered leaf of your
coronet, for my share of ivy hath already been superabundant.
Repulsive representations seem to have delighted Buonarotti ;
and Fortune, the Furies, a Last Judgment, and a Pieta, were
the subjects most congenial to his taste. How difierent from
that of the gentle Albani ! Here we see Cupids in a valley,
by the mai^n of a rill, on the green grass, among fragrant

134 CELEBRATED MEN, NATIVES OF FLORENCE.

floweris, where the happy little urchins laugh, dance, and
gambol, accompanied on the flute by old daddy Silenos. The
ludicrous gravity of the sot is in fine contrappunta with such
a gay and charming scene. There are many other fine paint-
ings in this palace ; among others, I may note the Rapb of
Dejanira by that excellent artist, Furiho ; a Head op St.
Jerome, by Tintoretto; an Eccb Homo, by Dolce; Vbkus
AND Adonis, by Hannibal Caracci ; and a Venus, by Titian.
There is a chapel, also, in the palace, painted by Gherardini,
and an altar-piece by Carlo Maratta.*

Florence has given birth to a multitude of celebrated
men. Salvino was born here, who first invented spectacles,
which a Dutchman improved upon by inventing the tele-
scope, of which a Florentine (Galileo) made such notable use
in his discoveries in astronomy. Leopold de' Medici, younger
brother of Ferdinand II., was the first who expelled the air
from, and hermetically sealed, Galileo's thermometer. Ves-
puccio Americano was also a native of Florence, who cheated
Columbus out of the honour of giving his name to America;
and the poet Dante causes this city to blush even to this day
for her ungrateful treatment of him she is now proud to own
as one of her sons. Its situation is healthy, but in winter
it is exposed to the piercing winds from the Apennines — a
circumstance which renders it particularly unsuitable as a
residence for the pulmonary invalid. To-morrow I purpose
again slinging my knapsack on my back, on* my way to
Rome.

The road between Florence and Siena is vari^ated by
hill and dale, occasionally presenting points of view which
approach the picturesque. Many of life's little cheering gra-
tifications are made up, as the reader may have often found,
of the ready interchange of little good offices, — a remark
which su^ested itself to me from an amusing incident that
happened on the way. A short distance from Tavemella I

• A notice of the paintings in the Accademia delle Belle Arte wiU be
found among the catalogues in the Appendix.

ROUTE TO ROME — SIENA. 135

came up with an old woman in a dilemma. She had overladen
her asSy and the poor brute had sunk under the burden. The
old lady was striving hard to produce a resurrection, by
making a lever of the ass's tail, at the same time kicking
its haunches with her foot, but unavailingly. To have thrown
off the sack under which it lay, would have cut the Gordian
knot ; but who was to lift it on again ? So as I drew near to
the scene of her sad mishap, the dame solicited me, with
polite frankness, to assist her. It is every man's duty to aid
his fellow, and doubly so the fair sex ; so, unshipping my
knapsack with alacrity, proud of the Quixotic opportunity of
soceouring a damsel in distress, I took hold of one end of the
sack, my wrinkled Dulcinea of the other ; when the brute,
fiindiog himself relieved of his load, sprung up on his legs,
only to find himself saddled again with his old burden.
** Tante^ tante grazie^*' was my grateful recompense ; and as
I moved my beaver in bidding the fair one adieu, I felt that
I trod more elastically on my feet. Monte Rotondo is in
this neighbourhood, wherein are two caverns from which
explosions, it is said, take place in rainy weather, heard at a
distance of several miles. I slept in Po^bonzi the first
night, and arrived early in the afternoon of the following day
at Siena.

SIENA.

Siena is the second city in Tuscany. . It is ^id to have
been founded by the Senonese Gauls, who entered Italy under
Brennus, and called it after the capital of their own country.
Sens : a derivation not adopted by the modem Sienese, who
prefer owning the children of Remus for their founders.
The arms of the town is a wolf suckling twins. Siena
stands on the top of a mountain, with its main street running
along its back, from the Porta Firenze to the Porta Romana,
whence the other streets diverge at right angles, like the
costal o£Siets of a skeleton. This city is distinguished in the
CathoKc world for originating the. abominable story of St.
Oatherine. This woman was a dyer's daughter ; and her

136 SIENA ST. CAIllLKINE THE CATHEDKAL.

iatlier's lioiise, in \vliich she lived, is still standing in the
Costa de' Tiiitori. Here it was, as the blasphemous lejrend
jxoc s, that this saint received in secret the nightly visits of
the Son of(iod,as her lover, in her bed-chamber, who, after a
courtship of several years, espoused her. This celebrated
event is said to have taken j)lace about the year 13G7. Her
divine lover j^ave her a rich diamond ring, and invited his
mother, the X'irgin Mary, St. Peter, St. John, and St.
Dominick, to witness the ceremony ; and kinij David was
ordered from heaven to play the harp — a group which the
stnmger will see re])resented in an altar-piece in the Cathedral
hejv, by the pencil of Dandini. The traveller will readily
recognise the lioiise by the inscription over the door: D. cat.
.KDEs sACR.i:. In one part they shew the kitchen, with its
pristine utensils and furniture : the shop, again, of her father
is converted into a chapel, adorned with paintings; the one
representing Christ's visit to St. Catherine is by 11 Sodonia,
her Deatli is by Pacchiarotti, St. Catlierine curing one sick
is by Vanni, and another of her miracles is from the hand of
Huonaventura. There is anotlier painting of a Pope pre-
senting something sent her from heaven, by Conca. To see
her bed-chamber, and the window through which Christ
])rivately entered, it is necessary to get to the ])ottoni of the
Vicolo del Trapaso. Vou ascend ])y steps to a vestibule, tlie
ceiling of which is painted in azure, and spangled with stars
of gold, ovei' which you read :

M'ost:. xi'i. KrniT.t. domls.
(Sposii! Cliristi Kiiterinx Domus.)

TuE Cathedral is reckoned among the finest in Italy. The
front of it is extremely rich in sculpture: Corinthian columns
of variously coloured marbles are clustered together in sheaves
of infinite beauty ; others, again, run up in spiral shafts. On
each side of the middle porch you see two antique columns
of florid sculpture, like those at Pisa, which were brought
from Egypt, and thought by some to have belonged to Solo-
mon's Temple : there are two corresponding ones within.
The pavement of this church is remarkable, being laid out

SIENA — CATHEDRAL — LIBRARY. 137

in deeigDB, ehaded simply in black and grey marble. These
represent different events in Scripture history, as the sacrifice
of Abraham, the passage of the Israelites across the Red
Sea, with the Phrygian, Tiburtine, Samian, and Helespontine
Sibyls.

The high altar is of most beautiful Siena marble, oma-»
mented with statues of angels in bronze^ by pupils of Michael
Angelo ; behind which there is a fine Assumption of the
Virgin, painted by Cesi, of the school of Guido. The frescos
in the choir are by Beccafumi. The Chapel of the Holy
Virgin, erected at the expense of the Cbigi family, contains a
miracle-working image of her holiness ; it is concealed from
profiine gaze by a monogram : four gilt bronze angels, by
Bernini, sustain the wondrous portraiture, and it is framed in
an immense slab of lapis lazuli. Here, also, we see four fine
statues in marble ; the St. Jerome and the Magdalen are
by the masterly chisel of Bernini. Over one of the side
altars we observe a beautiful painting of the Visitation, by
Carlo Maratta ; and on the one opposite, a charming mosaic
copy of the Flight into Egypt, from a painting by the same
excellent master. The Holy Family are represented at the
moment of crossing a little stream : Mary is giving the infant
Jesus to Joseph, who stands in the water, and the rippling
streamlet laves his feet : four angels hover over the holy
groap, as guardians of their way. Eight composite columns
of beautiful Cipolino divide the statuary and paintings, and
the whole is shut in by a handsome bronze gate, supported
on each side by a Corinthian column of Siena marble. Facing
this beautiful chapel is the Library, better known as the
Camera di Raphablb, from its containing the seven cele-
brated frescos designed by this illustrious artist. Six of these
were coloured by Pinturicchio, and the seventh by Raphael
himself, wherein he has introduced his own portrait riding
on a dark-chestnut horse. Four relate to events in the life of
MneBA Silvius Picolomini ; the other three, to those of Pope.
Pius the Second. In that in which Pius is canonisiag St,
Catherine, Raphael has introduced his own portrait as a
young man ; and in another next to this, where the same

138 SIENA LIBRARY OP THE CATHEDRAL.

Pope is represented retaining from an expedition against the
Turksy Raphael again introduces himself as a boy. The
frescos in this camera are in the highest presenration of any
in Italy. It is in this chamber, also, that the traveller will
find the well-known group of the Graces, so justly reputed a
ehef-d^ceuvre of ancient Greece : they were found in digging
the foundations of the dome. These gracefiil, elegant, almost
lascivious figures formerly stood in the sacristy, in whose
naked presence the priest was wont to prepare himself
'for mass ! Before quitting this sanctuary <^ chefs^auvrtj
let the traveller cast a glance on the tomb of the illus-
trious Mascagni. The door of the library was scnIpUired
by the scholars of Michael Angelo, as was likewise a chapd
to the left of it. The tomb of Archbishop Pieolomineas
is immediately adjoining, on which we observe two Akobls,
i^nd Christ holdinq his Cross, by the chisel of Bnonarotti
himself.

The ceiling of this church is painted in azure, and speckled
with stars of gold : the cupola rises majestically from the
centre of the edifice, sustained on beautiful columns of black
and white marble, and busts of all the Popes are ranged
around the whole of the interior. Each of the altars is sap-
ported by two Corinthian columns of choice Kena marUe,
and adorned with paintings by some of the first masters.
Note, among others, St. Bsrvard prbaohing, by the ener-
getic pencil of II Calabrese ; in the opposite transept remark
the CoKVBRSiOK OF St. Ansaro, by Vanni ; observe, also, a
richly toned painting, by Pietro Sorvi, of the Adoration ov
THE Magi, and, what I have already mentioned, the Mar«
RiAQB OF St. Cathbrinb, by Pietro Dandini. Among the
precious relics which this cathedral contains, the most holy
is the arm of St. John, with which he baptised our Saviour
in the Jordan : they also pretend to shew the sword with
which St. Peter cut off Malchus*s ear.

Near the Church of the Cordeliers they point out a tree
said to have sprung from the staff of St. Francis, who,
coming to Siena to settle some disputation, stuck his stick
into the ground, when it forthwith took root and shot up

SIENA — CLIMATE — THE MAREMMA. 130

a goodly tree, thus proving, by the miracle, th§ divinity of
his mission. Before the traveller quits this city, let him
visit an ancient edifice called Rocca Bruna, said to be older
than the vulgar era, as well as the suspended arch in the
Grand Piazza, which apparently rests upon nothing. It is
the work of Balthasar, a Sienese architect, and is reckoned a
wonder of art.

Siena is subject to earthquakes ; and some of the springs
are tepid, sulphureous, and aperient. The air here is pure, but
keen : in summer it is pleasant and cool, but exposed to the
mistral, especially in spring ; and every one has heard of the
celebrity of this city for the perfect purity with which Italian
is spoken. I attended a sermon in the cathedral, antl was
delighted both with the language and the graceful animation
and delivery of the preacher. With such eloquent advocates^
no wonder I could not help thinking that stories equally
horrible as even that of St. Catherine should come to be
believed. Siena prides itself in giving seven popes and
several saints to the Romish church : the celebrated anato-
mist, Mascagni, was a native of this place ; so was St. Ber-
nard, and St. Catherine, the spouse of Jesus Christ, and the
fiimous schismatic Socinus, the founder of the sect now
called Unitarians.

I%e Maremma di Siena is an unhealthy marsh, which
extends about thirty miles to the south along the coast. In
ancient times this plain was covered with towns and villas,
and now is one vast marshy desert. Agues and the ** pancia
piena," formed by. enlargements and indurations of the liver
and spleen, are, consequently, the endemics of the soil.

After visiting the Prato della Lizza, the Citadel, and the
Theatre, I took the road towards Rome. The evening previous
I went to the theatre ; the farce was of a Jeremy Diddler cast ;
and, by way of a spree, I tried the character on myself, but it
would not fit. The waiter of the inn had told me that noble-
men and strangers paid the double of what the inhabitants
did : having learned what the latter sum was, I walked boldly
in, put down the plebeian rate, thinking to diddle the door-
keeper ; but it was no go — Cerberus was awake !

liO ( ASCADi: AND LUTHS Ol' SAX FIUPPI.

The route to Rome lies through Buonconvento, famous^
or rather iniauious, in history, for the poisoning of the Em-
peror Henry the Seventh, by a monk in administering the
saeranient to him. Before coming to Torrinieri, the geolo-
gi>t cannot liclj) Ijeinjj: struck with tlie immense track of blue
dav which bliews itself to the left of the road: it is cracked
into yawning tissures, wliich expose its great thickness ; and
from characters which l)ecame more legible every step I
aihanced, I had no doubt but such had [)eeu vomited up
by an eartlupiake. The country has a sterile and inhos-
pital)le aspect all the way from J^iena to Ricorsi, where I
slept on the second evening:. In this neiirhbourhood are the
casciule and baths t>f ir^an rili])pi. They are situated on a
ujountain about thiee miles from the post-house of Ricorsi,
anil I took them in mv wav to Ivadicofani next morninir.
As you approach you see the cascade tumbling down a pre-
cipict\ in a milk-white smoking stream, over stalactitic rocks
oi' its own fornuition. These assume, in ditf'erent places,
beautiful fantastic ibrms, and tlie weeds by the side of tiie
inlpt*tuou^ tonvnt steal a coating of calcareous earth as it
rushes bv, thus reseniljlinu: icicles uf urass-piles bv the bor-
dei's of a fro/en waterfall. The water is steaming hot,
anil contains abundance of lime in solution and suspension,
white as arragonite, together with sulphuretted hydrogen,
magnesia, and iron. Besides the natural medicated baths,
there is a mamifactory here of sulphur, and of those beau-
tiful medallions known in the cabinets throughout all Europe,
under the direction of, and belonging to, the physician of
this wild district, J^ignor (iaetano Rim])ici. These medallions
are made by placing sulphur-moulds in a reservoir; and
when thi' deposition from the water is thick enough, they
are taken out, the moulds are broken oti', and the impression
renuiins. I bouiiht two excellent likenesses of his Grace of
Wellington, when IManpiis ; and as Rimpici and 1 parted
like old, though short, acquaintances, he was polite enough
to present me with a (lalileo as a sourcNir. Above the
baths, which, bv the way, are wretched enou*::h, without
ditparajiiuij: their etiicacv, vuu see the i)laces where the water

THE VOLCANO OP RADICOFANI CENTINO. 141

springB out frnm the bowels of the mountain. It is called
Moute Fiore^ from whichy it is said, in stormy weather sub*
terranean noises issue. Descending again to the main road,
yon ci'oss a bridge, and begin to ascend the high and steep
mountain of Radicofani. On gaining the summit, I was
agreeably surprised to find blocks of lava strewed on all
Sides. It is chiefly of a reddish colour, hard, compact,
lithoidal, and speckled with minute grains of mica. The
mountain terminates in a cone, with the tip, as it were,
broken off: here you find the crater of an extinct volcano,
containing water at an astonishing high level above the sur*
rounding country. At the upper part of the base of the
cone I picked up lava of a vesicular, cineritious nature, and
this, with the crater and the hot sulphureous waters of San
Pilippi, tend to confirm the conjecture I hazarded, of the
blue clay in the distance being the product of a volcanic
phenomenon. The volcano of Radicofani had continued
active, it would seem, but for a short period — one hiccup
probably, and no more — enough to knock its bonnet off;
while the intestine grumblings of Monte Fiore, and the
earthquakes occasionally felt at Siena, would indicate that
the combustion below was still at work, and, had it water
sufficient to supply its thirst, might one day force the barriers
which confine it, to revel like an unchained maniac in de-
structive violence. The road now having attained the ridge
of the mountain, begins immediately to wind down to its
foot, in the same rapid manner it had climbed over its
shoulder. Three miles from this you cross the Vela, which,
a bow-shot below the ford, loses itself in the Paglia. This
rivulet forms the boundary between the Tuscan territories
and the patrimony of St. Peter : a short step farther, and
you come to the custom-house of the papal frontier at Cen-
tino, where the traveller s passport and baggage are exa-
mined. The country now assumes a less uncouth and barren
appearancci the road traversing the valley of the Paglia,
which you cross by a bridge four miles from Centino. Pitiful
as this bridge is, it has no fewer than four tablets on it, to
inform the traveller that it has been repaired by as many

142 AQUAPENDENTE.

munificont potentates. Fanciful and puerile, indeed, I could
not help thinking, must have heen that " longing after im-
mortality/* which could dictate on so paltry a structure —

" i»ri:TU(^ I.I oi'oi.Do magno r.TRi riaf duce."

Wearied, 1 sat down on its parapet to rest myself, and
forgot, in the reverie 1 sunk into, how speedily the inaudible
foot of Time steals on : the top of Radicofani had lost its
gilding : that blunted cone, wliich formerly had shone as a
beacon in the night, supplying the materials of its com-
l^ustion from its own bowels, was now shadowed under a
mantle of dusky clouds, which, warning me of the danger
of late marching alone in so lawless a country, hurried me
u|) the op})osite steep to Aquapendente.

AciiAPENnKNTE, SO Called from a little cascade which
falls in its vicinity, has all the appearance of a town that had
drank of the nightshade ; its houses crumbling into ruins,
its streets deserted — where beggary alone stalks about in all
its s(pialid wretchedness, and poverty in all its filth. What
a contrast with the neatness and comfort which pervades the
Tuscan states! where, though the power of the prince is as
despotic as the ])apal edict, yet, being hereditary, he treats
his p(H)])le as the progeny of his family; while each succes-
sive pope, a mere being of a day, having no prospective in-
terest in the welfare of the peo])le he governs, thinks only of
enriching himself at their expense, and hands them over to
his successor in a worse condition than he found them. This
town is the birth-place of the well-known Fabricius, who
took its name as his cognomen. It possesses no object of
curiosity ; and unless it were that my worthy landlord
appeared to covet strongly my walking shoes — and which I
ani now sorry I did not give him, for they came to a worse
end — I know of nothing else which reminds me of the ])lace.
The rock about Aquapendente is of a volcanic character,
and, if named for its resemblances, might be designated
stratified volcanic sandstone. That which is not consolidatc^d
is light and pulverulent, arising apparently from the passage

SAN LORENZO — LAKE OF BOLSENA. 143

ibrmerly of hot vapoiirs through it, giving it the commotion
of fermentation, which, by commixing materials of different
colours and consistence together, gives it a spongy texture, and
consequently a small specific gravity. Five miles from Aqua-
pendente we come to San Lorenzo Nuovo. On the way the
volcanic stone puts on the resemblance of indurated clay, of
a light flesh-red colour, some of which is vesicular.

From San Lorenzo you first get a view of the beautiful
lake of Bolsena. On surveying the circular expanse of water
befi>re yon, and the range of hills which encompass it, what
a grand idea it gives of the majesty of nature, to conceive
that this was once the spacious cauldron of a volcano ! an
idea confirmed by the volcanic debris in the distance, which
leads the traveller to the centre of action, only to have it
impressed on his conviction by more unquestionable pheno-
mena. On its now-tranquil bosom the two islands of Mar-
tana and Presentina seem as it were to float. It was to the
first of these that the unfortunate Amalazonte, daughter of
Theodoric, king of the Goths, and one of the most eloquent
women of her age, was banished, and afterwards strangled,
by the orders of her ungrateful cousin, Theodatus, whom she
bad associated in the government. It is here, also, that
the seignors of the princely house of Famese lie interred — a
fiimily now merged in the royal house of Naples. The road
winds down to thie margin of the lake, and on each side the
traveller may perceive the charred trunks of trees lying by
the wayside. These are all that remain of the ancient forest
sacred to Juno. Formerly it was the retreat and fastness of
banditti, in the recesses of which they defied pursuit, and
committed every sort of atrocity with impunity, until Bona-
parte, at the time when he overran Italy, unable to ex-
terminate them by other means, set the whole forest on
fire. Seven miles from San Lorenzo lies the town which
gives its name to the lake — Bolsena. This little town, the
ancient Volcinium, is remarkable, in the history of Catho-
licism, for giving rise to one of the greatest festivals in the
Romish church. A priest, whilst saying mass, conceived a
doubt of the reality of the transubstantiation : in an instant.

144 INSTITUTION OF THE FETE DIEU.

saith tbe legend, sorrowfal and wounded by the impious
scepticiBm, the consecrated wafer wept Mood ; in memoiy of
which great miracle, Urban the Fourth instituted the festiTal
•of Corpus Christi, and of which Raphael has further perpe^
tuated the remembrance, in a beautiful fresco-painting in the
Vatican. Past Bolsena jou find detached columns of basalt
lying along, and at a little distance from, the road, which
have fallen from a cluster you see to the left, shooting out of
the rock in the manner of the pruned stem of the palm-tree.
All around there is nothing but volcanic products, some per-
fect, some in a state of decomposition ; and the soil which
this forms by the edge of the water is extremely rich and
fertile. I sat down on a pentagonal column of basalt to nest
myself; the wind blew across the lake, and threw up the
water in rippling waves, cresting their heads with firothing
snow-white air-bells: how different, methought, is sacfa
peaceiul agitation from the same abyss when filled with
matter in a state of red-hot fusion, shaded by the dense fumes
which rose from a molten ocean of liquid lava — a blood-red
sun looking on the while, broiled by the intensity of the heat,
and blushing at his eclipsed splendour! What a glorious
sight it must have been, I thought, to have seen the sides of
this immense cauldron give way; to have beheld the ele-
mental war betwixt earth, fire, and water ; . the throes of the
one, the fuming of the other, the hissing ^f the third ; the
cracking of the outer crust, the crash of the fall, and the
demoniacal yell of some chained Moloch, writhing under the
torments of such a conflict ! But, reader, such sublime
strophes as these happen only in ages when man, timid
his fellow-brute, flies from, rather than remains to witness,
parturient Nature brought to bed of a mouse. That this
Tartarean scene must have occurred, the parched tongue of
every volcanic cinder declares, though the event distances
the retrospective view of the remotest tradition. The lake
is ten miles across, and the circle of hills which surrounds
it, had formed merely the base of the volcano. This will
convey some idea of the original height of the volcanic moun*
tain itself before its walls fell in and extinguished it, and

I «

VOLCANO OF B0L8BNA — MONTEFIASCONE. 145

aoooont for the appearance of the yolcanic dost, novr con-
solidated in various shapes, which it had thrown all around
in the distance. As the road quits the skirts of the lake, it
begins to ascend to Montefiascone. On the left you pass a
broad stream of petrosilicious lava, with its inclination dip*
fing towards the water. The naturalist can readily perceive
that there are several strata of it, apparently formed by the
falling back of the fused matter, when the projectile force was
not strong enough to throw it over the edge of the crater.
Higher up, you again come in contact with lava, covered by
lime burnt to a matter resembling old dry mortar, over
which an impure sandy-like matter lies in layers of different
colours and thickness, together with gravel formed of decom-
posed lava: the sandy-like matter, indeed, is the same sub-
stance, only in a state of greater comminution — a proof, in
the absence of other tradition, of the antiquity of the period
when this volcano was in activity ; for all know how many
agea it requires before lava suffers decomposition.

I had spent so much time by the lake side, that it was
late when I arrived at Montsfiascome. I hung out at an inn
outside of the walls of the town ; and whilst waiting until
supper was ready, I occupied myself in wrapping up in paper
the different volcanic specimens I had collected. And here
a ridiculous-enough incident occurred. The waiter was an
inquisitive fellow, and b^an to question me about their use
and value. A little good-nature is requisite every where,
and to none is it more than to a pedestrian traveller ; so
I said that the stones he saw had told me the past history
of his country ; for there are stones that speak, added I, un-
wittingly, not caring to be further interrupted by his idle
prating. Unconscious of the figurative language I had used,
or of the literal sense into which it was to be construed,
guess, then, my surprise, when the whole household, with
die waiter at their head, came in a body to consult me con-
cerning a hidden treasure. The father, it seems, of the pre-
sent landlord had died some time ago ; and although known
to have possessed monies of different descriptions, none could be
found after his decease ; and the purport of their corporate visit

IKi A CONJUROR — THE KST WINE.

was, that I should give a specimen of my art by interrogatin<x
the stone-Avalls whei'e thi^ pelf was thougiit to be concealed.
Not exactly wishinLr to ])e had np before his holiness as one
in such intimate comnnmion with his worship the devil, I was
fain to explain myself as well as I could out of the dilemma
mv uiducky trope had ])laced me in. The supper was in-
difierent ; but, to make amends, I had an excellent bottle of
the celebrated triple ./:.s7 wine. This wine fjcot its name, as
th(* reader mav know, from the followinji: trasri-comic circum-
Stance. A certain (jlerman bishop, whenever he travelled,
had a ])ractice of sending' his servant on before him to taste
the wines of the dillerent inns lie had to pass in his route ; and
whenever he should meet with one more than ordinarily
^(jod, lie was directed to write in chalk over the door, as a
guide to his reverence, the Latin word ^* Est," meaning
honnnt est, Arrivinix nt Montetiascone, this bacchanalian
((r<nif'('(n(rier found the wiiui so delicious, that he wTote the
cabalistic word thrice over the door, as a sitrn for his master
to iditiht. This the reverend father did ; and beinc: of the
same opinion witli his servant, he drank of it so copiously,
that lie died on the spot. 1I(* was buried in the subterranean
pai't of the ancient church of San Flaviano, in front of the
altar. This church is about forty paces to the left of the road,
facing* th(! ixate ])v which you enter the town. You descend
by a lliglit of steps to the lower chapel, where the tombstone,
which was ])lac(Ml over his body by his faithful servant, is
still in existence : on it you se(; engraved a full-length portrait
of this priest of J^acchus, with his mitre on, graced on each
side Avith his arms and two drinking- cups. Over all, you
read the following epitaph :

1>'I, r--I, IM", I'll I'. N IM.*

1^1, nil lo. I). 1 v(;. Do.f

MI l>« MOIiri I > 1>1.

To perpetuate both his memory and the event, this faithful
and affectionate domestic fountled, with the goods of his
master, an annual ceremony, now discontimied, ofemi)tying

* Prophr nimiiini . \ Dontiruis.

LAKE OF SOLPATARA. 147

two batts of wine over his grave on the first Tuesday after
Pentecost : the fond has been appropriated to the benefit of
the poor. Mine host, in narrating the storj, pretended
that the event actually happened in his house, and that the
sign of his ancestors was the goodly figure of the bishop, with
the words est, bst, bst, as an inscription beneath — a name
given to the wine even to this day.

When you have passed Montefiascone, yon get a view of
Viterbo in the distance. Descending for about four miles
and a half, you reach a hollow by a gently inclined plain,
into which streams of lava accompany you ; and as you
ascend from it, you again meet other sheets of lava, falling in
a direction opposite to the preceding — circumstances which
would indicate that this spot also had formerly been the
centre of some eruptive action, marking out the grave of a
volcano that had died of convulsions, and torn itself to pieces
in the struggle. Where, you ask, is its skeleton ? — Crumbled
into dust by the comminuting fingers of Time, and by his
breath scattered about on the surrounding level, of which no
other vestige remains save the hollow shallow cone from
which we have just emerged.

Three miles farther, and within as many of Viterbo, lies
the little lake of Solfatara. The traveller will find it about
fifty paces to the right of the road, and close by a building in
ruins. Its surface presents the appearance of a large cauldron
of boiling water, from which air-bells continually ascend in
rapid and tumultuous succession ; and the peculiar smell
which seizes on the nostrils at once declares its chemical
nature. As I approached the brink, a large piece of lava,
which I held with the intention of throwing it into the
boiling vortex, accidentally dropped out of my hand, and
the sound it produced as it fell, gave me warning of the
hollow footing I stood upon. When got to the edge, where
the water bubbled up freely, I cautiously put in the tip of
my finger, and was not a little surprised and disappointed,
relying on the accounts I had read in guide-books, to find it
of the ordinary temperature. On taking some of it into my
mouth, I found it tasted strongly of sulphuretted hydrogen.

lis VITERHO SANTA ROSA —

joined with a very sensible acidity, owing, probably, to some
admixture of sul[)liiireoiis acid. Various ingenious conjec-
tures might l)e hazarded of the origin of tliis gaseous ebulli-
tion ; but, without entering into any recondite and dubious
surmise*^, of no earthly account, let us rather solve them at
once in a moi'e rational and feasible manner, bv dare-savinjr
they j)rocee(led from some of Lucifer's acquaintance quietly-
smoking a cigar. (Jur friend Moloch may have shifted to
cooler (juarters, and may thus anuise himself, as he re-
counts to his vinificuvrt'Oinnes companions the catastrophe of
Bolsena.

The voK'anic ashes and dust that form the entire soil of
the plain on the ])0]*(ler of which \'iterbo is situated, are of a
very scoi-itird cliaracter, chiefly soot-black with white specks
of calcined leucites. A short hour now brought me to Viterbo,
a city famtnl for possessing the incorruptii)le body of Santa
Rosa. Von enter \ iter])o by a gate of the Doric order,
erected I)y Pope Clement XIII., who was a native of this
])lace. Santa Rosa is its })atron, and the church, which is
endowed with lier innnortal inumniy, is situated at the top
of the \ ia Santa Rosa, annexed to a convent of the same
name. The tomb is to the right of the grand altar, enclosed
by an iron giating. The body reposes in a richly chased
sarco[)hagus of gilt silver. On drawing near, a very pretty
nun, whose countenance beamed with the most amiable
sweetness, asked me if 1 wished to sec the body — tlie cor-
ruptible lliat had put on incorruption, even on earth. On
replying in the affirmative, she obligingly unfolded the doors,
and 1 knelt before the grate, whilst a crowd of nmmbling old
women j)i'essed anxiously forward, uttering their aves. The
face of the saint is of a beseeming mummy brown ; every
thing about her is extremely decorous, and altogether the
entire keeping of this pious farce is very well sustained. Not
being allowed to api)roach nearer than the grating, I cannot
say whether the body be actually embalmed, or merely an
adult image ; but tliere is no doubt that the face is a mask
— a lamitum fuinis — for no feature is in the least shrunk, nor
do any wrinkles meander on her brow ; but tlie whole outer

HER INCORRUPTIBLE BODY — ITS MIRACULOUS POWER. 149

integament is screwed up to a d^ree of tension, as if kept
on the stretch by antagonist muscles. Like the Scottish
emblem, the thistle, her body cannot be touched with im-
punity. Ere I left the grate, the kind-hearted nun presented
me with a cord of white cotton, the exact length of the saint's
body, which had been imbued with a portion of the essence of
her incorruptible body, with directions that I would wear it
round my arm as a talisman or safeguard against the devil and
all his works — a gift which I accepted with sincere gratitude ;
for whatever doubts may be entertained of its efficiency, there
can be none of the benevolence of the amiable donor.

As I sat by the kitchen fire of the inn in the evening, seeing
my supper prepared, I began, as usual, to converse right and
left with those about me ; and, as our chat was of Santa Rosa,
I picked up the following little particulars concerning her.
They are obliged to cut her nails and change her chemise
once a week, and, during hot weather, the body is vulgar
enough to perspire. A French officer, in a sceptical mood,
cut Santa Rosa's finger, when, miraculous to tell, it bled,
and the infidel was of course converted : by putting money
to the wound, the bleeding stopped. Of the latter part of the
miracle I think there can be no doubt ; for money has before
now stanched more wounds than this. As the late Pope
Pius the Seventh passed through Viterbo, in his way to
France, a state prisoner, he paid a visit to this holy shrine,
when, in the presence of a great multitude, who still live to
bear witness to the fact, Santa Rosa stretched out her hand
to his holiness : he took the diamond ring off his finger, and
put it on that of the saint's ; and as she drew it back to her
breast, she was seen to weep tears of gratitude. Santa Rosa
is no bad hand at the chisel and trowel. When the French
entered Viterbo, during their devastating career over Europe,
these profane conquerors caused her name over the principal
gate of the town to be erased ; next day the venerated letters
were as l^ble as ever. To obliterate more effectually th6
inscription, they demolished that part of the wall, but all to
no purpose ; for by next morning an invisible hand had
built the whole up again !

I'll : VKi^ . r v.. o — K3\CI<^L10NE MONTEROSl.

- !-• ty.:::i/'H'i in ilie cathedral of Viterbo.*'
: v:. ■ V a:i'-t'..Lr sue, uho of the Doric order,
V :; -:.;:'>j *:!'i:f patron saint, supported on eacli

Tiurj are natural hot baths near

1 *

X h k t i. t t

^^^^^^. I :t_:\: I ilid n».-t \is:t.

. s V

, , X ♦

k 1 4 , V

1 .

V. :.: y .'.-r^' v. u i.-e- r. 1 f-r about six miles. On
:. :_ r\ >:.::.:*, ilu- t'\e Kills into the placid-looking
. t \ ... 1- is ' !aoi«l ::: a eireular vallev to the riirht :
. ' : : \ . v. -t < :'..: v \: jc < f the Aptnnines, and at your
.1 -^ •...'■ > :'.,.::.. v ;:!l a rt ^ f of rocks abruptly pro-
•...■.., :' :.. :•- ^ \:'t,. iL':- i- ilie ancient ]\Iount Soracte.
i'L :',.i - :/.x.: _ «.!. '^:. .^:" :i;e c.^'inrrv before vou, \ ico seems
:> !..^t \ t . -:v:..*. 1 on tl.e o:;:-kiits of the ixt'neral coni-
V e, li •• ../. n: ■;::.:. :ho ba^e of which stands on a
\\ •'.; ::;r !..\t\ ;>; |.> ;vs ;.- if it Iiad ])een deserted by the
.•...■• _ _:\ ;.; ! ; -.'.i : ^ i ^liieb lieconies more a])parent
' li- ^ li'ii K'./. i fi'^Hi the I'lain between Roiici-
_i ^ ^v -Vvi ^^-^ r^.v-'.. r. ^:-<- > a \auue tradition of a town
!.;i\::.: - '.:.k r.. 'v n ;:.:o '!.e i.ike i-f \ ico, and of its walls
ih:.^ -::.. V.-. -le .:i tlu In*;!, in >\]ien the weather is clear
: •. .! :■ e ^^ . Tor r.iinr/rlt J< : lut this I re^iard as a contc bleu,
l:kv- : ' ^:'.\ ot'u"-- T>re\.;unT of Itr.lv.

^ v^u r.ow vi.-v'i'.mI Uv :\]\'\\i ten miles to Konci-jlione, a
{ '\\:\ 111 a >:.;:e of e^^vu ::u d. si:\:lon:u'v wretoliedness ; where
pal,'.v\> ;;:\' taniMiii^- 1:1:0 n;LH-. or uninhabited, or occupied
b\ (lu^ lo\M>i and nio-t iv.i-i ra-le of s-eirtv. The houses are
oon^^tnu-lid ehiill\ of \ole:inie mate'ial-, and supporting; the
porfu'o of a bv»u>r 1 ob-er\ed two handsome Doric cohunns
ot iM-ahif la\a. At .Mo:itrro>i there is a siiiall lake of threat
ilipib, i!ii' roruiaiiou and wreck of s.nne volcanic convulsion.
All tln> i>ari of the counti'v i> rxtrtinelv unhealthv in summer,
MitKria^- untler the virulence o( remittent and intermittent
t'cNers, aeconinanii^l witli a strong' intiannnatorv tendency to
t'.ie brain. 'llu* route between Abniterosi and F^accano
pui'-ues an inelini'd jdain. It is pnit of the ancient Flami-
nian wav, \> hich is ba^^inl a foot or two under the surface, on

' 'olm \\I.. Al. \.ii'<h'i I \ .. A-Iii.iii \ ., .111(1 flonn.ni IW

BACCANO VOLCANIC SOIL — MIL VI AN BRIDGE. 151

sheets of lava of so hard a texture that they form mill-stonesf
of it : to the left there is a mountain composed of lava so
thoroughly vitrified as to resemble exactly the cinders from
a smith*s forge. Five miles from Monterosi the road leads
over a ridge of hills, and thai descends into the plain of
Baccano. This is a circular basin, so perfectly r^ular that it
would seem as if the moon had slept here for a night, and
left her form behind, marking the very spot where the prude
Diana slily embraced the sleeping Endymion. But, if fiancy
be not permitted her conjecture, facts must then prosaically
pronounce it another crater of an exhausted volcano. It is
about a mile in diameter, edged by a low ridge of hills all
nearly of the same height, and before the water was drained
off, it was occupied by a swampy marsh. Emerging from
this basin, and scaling the rampart of little hills which hems
it in, you now get a first view of the majestic cupola of St.
Peter's peering over the intervening heights, distant seventeen
miles. The volcanic soil does not leave you in the inter-
mediate space : you find it at II Fosso in the form of volcanic
clay, variegated with white and brown specks ; you follow it
up to the post-house at La Storta, and you distinctly trace it
three miles and a half from Rome, disposed in strata of
varying thickness. In some places this clay becomes so
indistinct in its character, that you only know it to be the
same from having traced it from a spot where there could be
no doubt of its volcanic nature ; but time and the amalga*
mating hand of accident and industry have so blended its
features together, as to be alone cognisable by its nicer re*
lations and affinities. At the five-mile-stone you meet with
the first antique remain : it is a massive sarcophagus, with a
Pegasus sculptured on one of its sides, said to be the tomb of
P. Vibius Marianus. The traveller shortly afterwards crosses
the Tiber by the Milvian bridge. It was here that Constan-
tine engaged with and defeated Maxentius, when the vision
of the signum salutare appeared to him in the air, prognostic
of his victory. This bridge was built by the censor Scaurus,
in flying across which the tyrant Maxentius was drowned.
At the farther extremity you find two statues ; one of

lo*2 VIA FLAMINIA — ROME.

w:.:o:, rvr^e^e^t^ the ^'IRGI^ Dianafied, but with this diffei'-
tnot. il.a*. o.f the Diana of ai;cient polytheism wore the em-
llt:!:i !\-::.i-::*v, a ortM.\'iit m on, on her forehead, the Diana
of !:; .:tr:i ra^'a!::-m. on trie coiurary, trample? it under her
ftv:. Fr?in :h> ihe ^'ia F'.an.ii.ia leads straipfht to Rome.
V:;: e:;:tr : v t'::e P.rta del Popolo, where the statues of St.
Ty::::-; a:: A "^r. Pail, on tirher side of the porch, stand to
^:\t : ::.e srrAr.^-er's arri\al. St. Peter is ba^ylintr as lustily as
if i.o wt re :'.:c c::i.n:;n rown-orier, while, pointing to a book
^^!l'.v:; lie 1; 1 .s in i.is liai.d. he proclaims the glorious truths
vf ri.e li« s: t' : : :;: in such a place, and amouLT such a
ivor'.o. ti.c ::ua:.i::j: is lost — it is a voice merelv crvinp: ia
a ^^ iivU :':uss. ** Make st''ai_:ht the F/'zinifild/i wav I "

ROMT.

Aral car. :lrs 1\ K nie .' No, it is but its corse. Cam-
i\i:iia is i:> tv :rl'. a:;<l i:s populace the worms wliich feed on
:t> cov!- ;r::o:i ' Ti.v 'his iv liomo, the stranirer aLCiiiii cannot
hv'.o ,-'n::c P^' I '\ailv 1 rtathe the air which the Casars
>:'.v\^*N N> rh Sv^ T^ar.N icni 'le ciccrees. that caused a suppliant
NXvv'.o. tv^ N> ^ I p rca:^ v»f I hod. and \^hich popes have for so
n\/.r.\ a^i> >'.r.cc liii'.td uitii e^licts of enchantment ? How
Lirca'.iN IS c\cr\ ti.i'.;^' chaiLTtd I Formerlv tliev adored
\ iu;i< »':uiv i> -vlav ihcv wvM'siiii) the \ irixin. The Lares
a'.ul l\r./.;cs take ihc tl'iin of Madonnas, iMau's, and saints:
the rianMc> haNC only chan«^ed tlieir luune, not their office ;
piic--t> cunNucd \\'\i]\ laurel are mctcmpsychosed into capu-
i*hiu> NMih shaven >calps : in lieu of the most exalted and
aui',u-.t v>f lunuc's olden times, celebratinir the con([uest of the
»vmK1, drcssod in tloaiing robes o{ purple, glisteidng with
i^v>Kl, marching in gorgeous prvvession to the soimd of trumpets
aiul iind>reN, and l>earing statues of Ceres, Juno, or X'enus,
No\i no\> have processions of bald-pated fiiars chanting au
,..\. as tiicN luiwk alH>ut a tawdry Paris-])lasler cast of the
\ n^ui. iov {\w adoration o\l the basest of the ii^norant.
Instead i>f the troplnes and sj)oils oi Asia, borne in cars
diawn b\ lions atid leopards, descending in all the pomp and

ROME — ST. Peter's. 153

circumstance of majesty from the Capitol^ advancing under
triumphal arches, attended by captive monarchs, and pre-
ceded by statues of the immortal great, you now see a string
of the same greasy group bearing on their shoulders the
rotten, canonised bones of the cobbler St. Crispin ! How just
are the lines :

" Servierant tibi, Roma, prius domini domiaoruin,
Servorutn servi tibi sunt jam, Roma, tyranni."

What a change, indeed, from those times when Rome alter-
nately displayed the most heroic virtues and paraded the most
atrocious crimes; giving birth to heroes the most exalted,
and to monsters the most execrable ! On this ground it was
that Cato censured and Lucullus sinned — where Lesbia
listened while Catullus sung : every stone conceals some
precious vestige of antiquity, or associates itself with some
grand recollection of the past. But it is time to have done
with such apostrophes and reflections : there is much to do,
fellow-traveller; therefore, cul rem — let us walk to St. Peter's.

St. Pbter's. — This magnificent basilica stands on the
Monte Vaticano, so called, as Varro tells us, from a temple
which stood here dedicated to Aius Vaticanus, the god who
presided over the tongues of infants, and taught them to
pronounce their first words. This hill was formerly beyond
the boundaries of Latium, and belonged to the territory of
the Etrurians. The Tiber separates the Monte Vaticano
from the city, to which it was connected by the Pons Trium-
phalis, over which victors passed on their entrance into
Rome ; and its ruins are still to be seen in the river. That
which you cross in the present day is the Ponte Sant' Angelo,
&cing the castle of the same name, the ancient tomb of the
Emperor Hadrian. It was Gregory the Great who changed
its denomination, in consequence of a vision he pretended to
see while parading the streets, in grand procession, at a time
when Rome was desolated by a pestilence. His holiness saw,
or said, or thought he saw, an angel perched on the pinnacle
of the mausoleum, in the act of sheathing a sword ; in

15 i 110 Mi: — ST. Peter's.

ineiiK^ry of which protli^y, he placed a colossal statue of the

nrc'haiiuol Michael on its siuiimit, and called it after the

circiun>t:incc. Foniicrlv one could count more than seven

Innidrcd tiuurcs of men and horses on its hattlenients ; but

they wort- all broken to j)ieces ])y the soldiers of Belisarius, in

rcpuUinir the assaults of the (xoths when thev hesieu'ed tliis

f(uircss. It was ili-mantlcd bv C'onstantine the (jreat, to

build the aui'icut church of St. Peter, and four and twenty

heautilul coluuuis were afterwards taken away to adorn the

clnnch iA' St. Paul.

The ])i-e-ent chuirh of St. l\^ter stands on the sj)Ot

occupii'd hy tliat erectiul l)y ( 'on>tantirje to the same apostle.

It i-- related (>f this iMinuM'or that he worked in disTirinir its

Ibundniions \\ith his own ham), tilhni:" and carryinj^ away

no flower than twelve hodsful of earth on his shoulders, in

honour of St. Peter and the other apostles.

riie ]>re>ent stupendous ediiice was beifun by Pope Julius

the StH'oud, and coutiiuuMl l)y his successors, who, upon the

plans oi' Mieliai^l An^t'lo and ("iacoino Porta, have raised it

to tliat p')iut of surpassinir excelU'iice and splendour in wdiich

\N e now M*e It.

lt< eh'vution i- sur|)ri>lnij.-, beinii' three hundred i^eome-

trical fe'et, and its length four hundn^d. The <>Tand altar

stands lieiu'ath the donas mider a ma^niHcent haldacc.hino,

sustained bv four twisted and richly chased bronze cohnnns,
. • '

and is sumptuous be\ond descri])tion. r>eneath the altar lies
tlie hody of the faxourite aiu)Sth' of (lirist, where, ni'^ht and
(lav, numerous lamps shed their softest liuht ; and around
which ci'oNxds of devotees kneel hi^lore the confessional of
St. PetiM*, as it is called. It is to this altar that they bear the
pope alter his election, aiul none but a succe^sol• to the keys
ever savs mass under its canonv.

'J'he enormous pillars which support the roof of this grand
editice are coated with the richest and most heautiful nuir-
bles, and decorattHl with mosaic copies of some of the finest
]>aintinL!:s that exist, and several niaij:nitic(!nt tond>s of the
po])es : the ])aveinent also is wholly composed of ditibrent
coloured marbles, ^lisjmsed with the t;featest skill and taste.

ROME — THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER's. 155

The portico of this temple is of the Ionic order, and you
enter it bj five doors of bronze, of exquisite workmanship, in
which I remarked Leda and her swan mingling with subjects
drawn from a holier source. That to the left is the Porta Santa,
which is opened on the year of the jubilee, a period which
recurs only once in five and twenty years. This is one of the
grandest ceremonies in the Romish ritual, when the pope,
attended by the whole conclave, and in the presence of an
immense concourse of spectators, goes through the manoeuvre
of knocking it down with a golden hammer. When de-
molished in reality by less sacred hands and a ruder tool,
the public obtain indulgencies by crossing its threshold on
their knees.

In front of St. Peter's there is a Piazza of an oval figure,
surrounded by a colonnade after a plan by Bernini. The
majestic portico which it forms is surmounted by a balustrade,
from which the pope gives his benediction to the people on
Holy Thursday. It is truly a grand sight to behold this
spacious piazza filled with troops, and the multitude that
flock from all parts, not only of Italy, but of the catholic
world, kneeling to receive the blessing of him whom they
believe to be Vice-God Omnipotent, for so his holiness is
sometimes styled. In the centre of the piazza there stands a
lofty obelisk of granite, and on each side a superb jet d'eau,
from which the water falls into fountains below in cooled and
ventilated fillets. The height of this prodigious obelisk is
eighty-one geometrical feet, exclusive of its pedestal, which is
one-third more. Its faces are ornamented with hierc^lyphics ;
and tradition says that it was made by Sesostris, son of
Noncoreus of Alexandria. Fontana, under the pontificate
and direction of Sixtus the Fifth, was the architect who placed
it on its pedestal, in doing which, it must be allowed, he per-
formed a feat so miraculous, that many a saint for performing
infinitely less has obtained a niche in the calendar. — But it
is time to re-enter the church.

Among the many Tombs which adorn its interior, the
traveller will remark the following :

The first to the left on entering is that erected to the

150 ST. Peter's — the tombs.

last of tlie Stuarts, tlie old and young Pretender, and the
late Cardinal York. It is by the chisel of Canova, and pre-
sents a model of chaste and elegant simplicity. Its form
is Eiryptian. On the uj^per part you perceive the profile
PoRTJrviTS of the last of this royal race, surmounted by the
arms of I'jigland ; and below, an inscription, tainted some-
what, I could not help thinking, w^ith the Jesuitical turn of
mind of this unfortunate family :

JACOJ^O * III.

J A( OBI • 11 • MAGNAE* RHIT*

lire. IS" I ILIO •

KAiK.n.o" rnvARDO •

1 I ■ 111 N r, I( • I>1 < ANO • I'M lU'M • CAUDINAl.llM '
J ACOIU • HI • 1 I LI IS •

iii:(.i vr. • SI inns • si iaudi ae • tosthemis •

ANNO • Ml)( rCXIX.

J^eneath this, a door is represented, of the Egyj)tian style of
architecture, and on each side of the portal an Angel stands
in a mournful attitude, with an inverted torch* in his hand,
scul[)tured with faultless beauty. Over the door you read :

UIAII • MORTII •

«»)ri • i\ ■ DOMiNu • Mor.irNTrn.

Opposite to tlie preccHling, wliich is placed against one of the
])illars of the aislu to the left, you see tue Monument erected
to Maria Ch'nitnlina So])ieski, wife of James, son of James
the Second. A Ixautlful statue of a female representing the
(ij'Nirs ()]• Kti:hnal Lii e suv)j>or(s a mosaic medallion por-
trait of the i)seudo-(iueen, assisted by an infant genius, under
whom a curtain of beautifully sti-ijied alabaster falls in graceful
f(dds, and beneath this, two other genii hold a crown and
sceptre : annexed to her name you read:

M • LRllAN ' niANC " El" HIIJEIJN ' RE(ilNA.

Next observe tue Tomb or Leo XI. and the two iine

* At funerals, among tlic ancknl Ivoinuns,it was usual to carry the hsccs
Ml an inverted position —

" fasces

\itli versos, indiciunujiie niali."

ST. Peter's — the tombs. 157

stataes of Wisdom and Liberalitt, emblems of the qualities
for which this amiable pontiff was distinguished. The first is
particularly delicate in the conception, and engagingly sweet
in the expression. Under such a mild tutoress, who would
not search after wisdom ? — Facing this is the Tomb of Inko-
CENT XL A statue of Rbligiok seems to address that of his
holiness: on the other side Minerva stands, armed with a
sword and buckler; bas-reliefs, representing battles, orna-
ment the front of the sarcophagus. The whole is boldly exe-
cuted, and forms a fine contrast with the, pacific cast of the
tomb last noticed. Hard by, remark a fine mosaic copy of
Raphael's Transfiguration.

Haying crossed the transept, you come to the beautiful
Monument of Paul III., executed by Delia Porta : it is
oruamented with two statues ; one of Virtue, in the figure
of an old woman — a negative sort of type, by the way; the
other of Immortality. This last is personified by one of the
loveliest forms that ever perhaps was sculptured. In her
right hand the embodied essence of eternity holds the symbol
of the soul ; in her left, the key that opens to another world.
Her countenance is illuminated with the noblest and sweetest
expression that eye ever adored. Her figure lies stretched
in an attitude too dangerous for innocence long to contem-
plate with impunity; and, though the body be clothed in
cold bronze, yet those limbs are uncovered, and alas ! they
even are too beauteous to gaze upon !

It is told that this beautiful statue was clothed in
bronze on account of a certain Spaniard £dling in love with
it.* So, Pygmalion, your lovely bride can no longer pride
herself on an anomaly, save in being less obdurate ; yet
Hohenlohe may one day remove even this chasm in the
parallel.

In the transept to the right observe the finest mosaic
painting in the church : it is a copy of Guercino's Apo-

* Pliny relates a somewhat similar story of a Roman knight who fell in
love with one of the Thespiades, — statues executed by the sculptor of the
V^enus, Cleomenes, and brought to Rome by Mummius, after the taking of
Corinth.

1,)S ST. TETER's M. ANGELO'S PIETA.

iinosi> OF Sr. PiMRONiLLA, wliicli is in the arallerv of the

Nrxt oli'-erve the Tomb of Clement XIIL ; it is hv
(':uuna. Ahovo you soo the Statue of the pope kneeling on
a cMiriliK^n, and his foatures, which are hfe itself, depict the
nio-^t (h'vout and fervid piety. Below, hy the side of the
>aroo|)hauii<, stands Ueli(;iox with a lion crouching at her
icc\, and a cross in lier right hand. Her position is expres-
Mvo oi' inulanntod iinnness and courage ; her countenance,
the holdno<s and consciousnoss of truth : the drapery of the
siaiuc i- ca^-t with a grandeur of simplicit}^ in fine keeping
with the cluiracttM- of a faith that ought to disdain the niere-
tiiclons aid of taw(h'y decoration. On the other side of the
])i'(U^>tal re|H>>-cs the (ii:\irs or Death. This statue is placed
to a di'^aih anta'je, and sliews too evidently that it was arhlrd
to th(^ LLTonp : it i> not near enougli the sarco[)hagus, against
>\hirh it was intended to rej)ose ; the («enius leans his shoulder
against thi' shar]) (mIuc of tlie sarcopliagus, and you cannot
help perceiving- that the ]»osition is too nneasy for so long a
niuht of i\'St - \()u feed it nuist l)e ])ainful, aiul this destroys
the \{\c[\ of npose. Vet the tigure isheautiful; and though
the einmtenanee l)e (h^ath-like, vet it is lovely even in death.
At Ills ft c't A Lion lies asleep on his paws, and every hrindled
liair >h('ps with liini.

In the sj)len<lid eha])el dedicated to the Holy \'irgin, you
s(M^ A Fit:ta of the hiuluv-^t finish and perfection, hv the mo-
(h'ln Phi(has, iMiehael Anirelo : von find it adorning' the altar.
Death is represented, as is usual with this great artist, in all
its terrific fidi'lity. The luxly of the ci'uciHed Kedeenier is
wasted hy long sulfering : the heatl falls ])ack on the supple
n(!ck ; the right arm appears as if dislocated from the socket,
and the knees ai*e ]>ent, as when the nuTe mechanism of the
hody is its only mc^an of cohesion : nanark how the lef\. le<r
drops and swings to the rocdving of the Virgin's knee; and
how sweetly sad the mother looks on her crucified lifeless
'-on and ( Hh\.

Among the otluM* Mosam's I may point out as excellent a
ro|»\ ol' ( hiido's ('nudlixion of St. Peter; of his Archangel

ST. Peter's — the mosaics — the relics. 169

Michad ; of the Incredulity of St. Thomas, hy Oaercino, kad
of Domenichino's Communion of St. Jerome. In the left
aisle, near the transept, there is a bronze statue of St. Peter
seated, with his toe quite polished by the kisses of devotees.
This was formerly an antique statue of Jupiter Capitolinus,
which, by a little appropriate alteration, makes a passing
good St. Peter : but the converting a statue of Jupiter into
the keeper of the keys, is certainly a new species of peter-
ifaction.

Pi^riip, as I professedly am, to holy shrines, it were out
of character did I not tell of the many precious Relics which
St. Peter's contains. I omitted mentioning to the reader
before, that I was here on the holy week, and the relics are
exhibited from a balcony under the dome on the Monday and
Tuesday after Easter: they are proclaimed individually as
they are brought forth ; and the manner of it was so very much
after that which we see and hear announced by certain public
orators at Bartholomew fair and elsewhere, that I could not
drive out of my ear the irreverent association, '* Valk in,
ladies and gentlemen, and view the royal Bengal tiger from
Bottom*hou8e Bay, in the Vest Injees ! " Among the most
remarkable they exhibit are, the handkerchief St. Veronica
wiped our Saviour's face with as he bore his cross to Mount
Calvary, which left the impression of his portrait upon it ;
the spear the soldier pierced our Saviour's side with, pre-
sented by the Sultan Bajazet to Pope Innocent VIII. ; a
table, having imprinted on it the likenesses of St. Peter and
St. Paul, authenticated by Constantine the Great, who saw
both of these apostles at Pope Sylvester's ; the shoulder of
St. Christopher,— ^ and the shoulder, we know, is his most
precious joint, -for on it, they say, he carried the infant
Jesus, a circumstance verified by numerous paintings and
engravings ; the arms of Joseph of Arimathea, in which the
body of our Saviour was borne to the tomb. Sec. &c.

From St. Peter's I ascended to the palace of the Vatican,
to view the paintings in the Picture Gallery ;* and, first,

* The galleries of the Vatican are open to the public on Mondays and
Thursdays, but remain shut the whole of Lent.

160 THE VATICAN RAPH \EL*S TRANSFIGURATION.

of the Tran>fh;uratiox. Tlii^ celebrated painting affords an
example of tlit' inadtNiuaoy of all verl)al description to convey
auirht save a feeble idea of a tine picture. It has been ol>
iected to it as a fault, tliat there is a want of unity in its
structure, l»v its re])re-entinLr a double action ; but how else
was it possible to make so tine a paintinir of a subject which,
if treated to tlie letter, aflbrded so contracted a scope even for
tlie divine imnirination of a Ra])hael ? Tliouirh a double
action be it> comix 'sition, yet how admirably lias the an-
iiealinu' skill of the artist surmounted this objection and diffi-
culty, by his intimate identification of the two subjects; a
circumstance tluit becomes the more obvious the more criti-
callv strict it is examined.

In everv i)ictui'e the eve naturallv fixes on the larsrest
Ciroup, that is, the lai'i^est mass of colouring, first, whicli
in the Transtiiruration is placed in the foreground ; here
everv eve and tiiiuer direct the retrards towards tlie bov
])0'=>essed, and after wandering in varied delight from figure
to fiLiure, thev i\\ on the terrific vet sublime subject of the
miracle : here they rest, partaking, 1 had almost said, of the
Iiossession, till, >tirred by curiosity to behold the whole, the
eve is led upwards bv the riiiht hand of the boy to tiie mystic
scene which gives name to the painting. I'ollow the impulse,
and as von rei^ard the Redeemer spiritualised, you find it
insensildv involved in a vortex bv the ma«ric circle made by
the prophets and the apostles on the eminence. Ciiddy with
its own involuntarv revolutions, the wearied eve sinks down-
ward into the distant landscape for a moment's repose; but
caught in its fall by an outstretched hand, it is thrown to the
opposite side of the painting, only to be seized by another;
where, getting again entangled in tlie eddy of this painted
whirlpool, it recommences making the same revolution it has
so often made before.

This celebrated painting exhibits in its composition a
fine contrast l)etween Divinity in all its glory and power, and
humanity in all its infirmity and nothingness. It was this
elocpient chcf'cCa'uvre of art that spoke the artist's funeral ora-
tion, for it was placed by his side when his corpse lay in state.

THE GALLERY OF THE VATICAN. 161

Every painting in this small collection is a chef^d^ceuwre.
Onereino's St. Thomas expresses incredulity with great force
and effect ; even with his fingers in the wound, he appears
scarcely to believe.

There is an amusing AKVUVCiATioKy by Baroccio, in
which the angel appears so polite, and tb^ Virgin so con«
descending, that the painting, though undoubtedly fine, might
be characterised as affectedly beautiful. Another chef-dCceuvre
is Domenichino's Communion of St. Jerome. Life is just
alive, scintillating feebly in his eye, like a spark going out.
He dies surrounded by the few consolations of which the
wretchedness of extreme old age is susceptible. Angels hover
in the air, ready to convey his soul to the presence of a
merciful God ; while those who minister to him in his agony,
express, in their countenances, sentiments of the tenderest
qrmpathy.

The Madonna di Foligno of Raphael abounds in beau-
ties. In the Virgin you see depicted the utmost grace ; in
the St. John, the wildness of the hermit ; in the saints, the
beauty of holiness ; and in the boys, the fascinating interest
of childhood. Guido's Crucifixion of St. Peter, done on
panel, is painted in his first, and, in my opinion, his finest,
manner. Remark the fine inverted position of the body,
and the deep, rich tone which characterises the colouring.
Here, also, is another of the same artist, in which St. Jerome
is seen reading ; and his macerated, wrinkled frame betokens
the rigour both of his penance and his extreme old age.
The Birth of the Virgin, by Albani, though beautifully
painted, fails to please those accustomed to the productions of
his playful and pastoral fancy : here there is no scope for it.
The same thing may be said of Poussin's Martyrdom of
St. Erasmus, but for a different reason : it is a revolting
subject, otherwise the fine transparency of the colouring, and
its noontide effect, are master-pieces of art. There is like-
wise a Titian in this collection, chiefly remarkable for a
naked figure of St: Sebastian — it is so naturally coloured
and so finely designed.

Three others complete the collection : a kneeling, dishe-.

m

162 VATICAN — GALLERY OF ANTIQUES.

relied, weeping Magdalen, with blood-shot eyes fixed on
the instruments of onr Saviour's passion and di^race, hf
Guercino ; the Martybdom of two Saints, by Valentin ;
and a Dead Christ, borne to the tomb in the arms of
St. Peter, which abounds with excellent painting, varied ex-
pression, and stfong relief, by the gloomy sepulchral pencil
of Caravaggio.

Before leaving this gallery, to proceed to those containing
the antiques, the Englishman is struck with pleasure and
surprise at beholding, within the very sanctuary of Roman
Catholicism, a full-length portrait of the '* Defensor Fidei,*'
by Lawrence. It was presented by the munificent subject of
the portrait to Pope Pius VII., accompanied with a splendid
collection of casts from the Elgin marbles ; and placed here
by his holiness, as a token and memorial of the generous
tolerance of two exalted and majestic minds.

The Gallery of Antiques. — This consists of various
apartments, containing such a multitude of rare and beautiful
objects, that I can only notice a few of the most prominent.
Passing through the first, which is appropriated to inscrip-
tions of various kinds, you come to the tomb of SoiPio Bar-
BATUS. It is made of a volcanic product, somewhat resem*
bling sandstone, and called, from its colour, piperino. It is
Doric in its form and ornament, and by its perfect and ele-
gant simplicity it pleased me more than any sarcophagus I
ever saw. On the face of it you read the following in-
scription : —

CORNELIUS . LUCIUS . SCIPIO . BARBATUS .
CNATUOD . PATRE . PROCNATUS . PORTIS . VIR . SAPtENSQUC .
QUOVIS . FORMA . VIRTUTEI • PARISUMA . FUIT .
lONSOL . CENSOR : AIDILIS . QUEI . FUIT . APUD . VOSTRAURASIA .

CISSUNA .SAMNIO . CEPIT .

SUfilCIT . OUNE . LOVCANA .

OPSIDESQUE . ABDOVCIT.

Farther on, you come to a portico, under which are four
little halls for the Apollo Belvidere, the Laocoon, the Me*
leagcrs, and the Perseus and Wrestlers of Canova.

THE APOLLO — THE LAOCOON. ' 163

The Apollo. — This glorious example of marble made
god by the creative chisel of the sculptor, stands in the first
hall to the left. Time has fortunately respected this com-
bination of human forms the most perfect. The body ex-
hibits proportions of the noblest and most harmonious descrip*
tion ; the limbs are freed from all the wants of humanity — **
the countenance depicts the perfection of manly beauty, some-
what ruffled by a frown ; and the entire figure may be con-
sidered the ch^'d*cBuvre of the beau*id6al ; not masculine,
nor yet adolescent — the god of day and of music. Whatever
be the action represented, it is performed with the fiat of a
divinity: the arm which had bent the bow is still extended,
the other hangs down by his side, as if the shaft had fled :
from his eyes darts a look that precedes the arrow, and his
lips indicate vengeance triumphant : the serpent Python is
pierced, and writhes in the agonies of death. This beautiful
statue was found on the sea-shore, among the ruins of ancient
Antium, towards the end of the fifteenth century.

The Laocoon. — This celebrated group, as the reader
knows, represents the misfortunes of Laocoon, a priest of
Apollo, whose story is related in Virgil. At the first glance
the traveller is struck with the difference between this and
all the copies he may have seen of it. Bandinelli's, in the
Florence Gallery, is the group defunct — the mere corpse of
the original. To represent outline and muscle is a mere
mechanical excellence — ^what the hand can copy ; but what
genius inspires is wanting — the vital principle of originality.

Pain^ sentiment, and courage, are the three athletics
which you see wrestling for mastery in this admirable group.
Laocoon is attacked in flank by one of the serpents, which
winds its coils round his arms and body. The cry of pain
from the bite is almost forcing itself from his half-opened
lips, but the courage of the man closes them again. What
perfection of anatomy ! every tortuous vein swells with ex-
ertion and agony. But the sufferings of the man are what
you least and last notice : it is those of parental tenderness
that engross the feelings. The children, whilst flying to their
father for protection, are seized by the serpents; and here

16 1 TUn LAOCOON THE MELEAGERS.

note the judgment of the artist. To have represented them
both ])itten would have l-een a sameness : one alone shall he
their immediate victiu), and that the vounirest ; the other is
merely imprisoned in the folds of one of the horrid reptiles,
and his sacrifice is deferred. The fate of the youngest is the
most pathetic : he runs to shelter himself in his fathers
bosom ; the serpent seizes him — coils round his tender limbs,
and lifts him up in the air ; while with another fold he fixes
one of his feeble arms : another coil winds round his infant
breast, stifiinir the dvinij: scream which calls on his father for
succour. But the traixedv is not finished : the fate of the
elder is not decided. Pinioned in the horrid embrace, in
vain the boy casts a piteous look on his helpless parent;
in vain his hands attempt to sever the folds which entwine
him ; his hands, alas! arr too feeble. \\ ill these reptiles be
satiated when they have devoured Laocoon, and sucked the
life's-blood of the vounut-r bov ? What a sublime genius it
indicates to make of an event so horril)le a scene so pathetic!
In Vir»j;il the action is successive; here it is simultaneous. In
Virgil the serpents have already destroyed the two children,
when the father fi ies to their succour : here the children and
the father are bound together in the same fatal coils. Lao-
coon, in \ irgil, utters piercing cries ; on the marble he is
silent. Virgil describes the bodily, the sculptor the moral,
sufferings of the father. The artist is the poet, and Virgil
the mere artist : the latter gives a narrative ; the sculptor
has made a poem of the subject. Tlie group of the Laocoon
was found on the Esquiline Mount, in the ruins of Titus's
palace. Pliny mentions having seen it in the same place ;
and it is from him we learn the names of the authors w^ho
executed it — Agesander, Polydorus, and Athenodorus.

The next apartment you come to contains the statues of
the two Meleacers. Both are extremely fine, particularly
the mutilated one, the contour of which is so softly undu-
lating, that it keeps the eye in a perpetual floating motion.
Poussin esteemed this statue, from the beautiful harmony of
its different parts, superior to every other in its perfection of
human proportions.

CANOVA's PERSEUS AND WRESTLERS. 165

Next to these is the Perseus of Canova. Canova. when
he conceived this statue, evidently had the idea of the Apollo
in his mind's eye, and his attempt is obvious — that of rival-
ling this inimitable statue. Medusa's head is in his left
hand, and he holds the sword which severed it in his right.
The head and trunk are fine, yet want the fascination of the
grand prototype ; while the thighs appear too short for the
body ; and there is a harshness and stiffness about the limbs,
which disfigures the grace and ease of the upper parts. The
fault in the proportion of the limbs, which is so manifest at a
little distance, disappears as you approach the figure, owing
probably to the eye being incapable, from its position, of
embracing it entirely. The drapery is well cast, excepting
that the roll round the arm is too precise and formal, and
diecks the eye as it pursues the direction given to it by the
look of Perseus.

The figures of the two Wrestlers, again, by the same
artist, are still more faulty. That to the right of the Perseus
advances the left leg so far as completely to enfeeble the
position. This is most conspicuous when seen in profile ;
while, in his antagonist, the great breadth under the axilla,
the enormous projection of the ribs and latissimus darHy and
the stunted length of the left forearm, are defects which
cannot but strike the most superficial observer. Canova's
forte, in fact, was not of a colossal cast : a Hebe, a danza-
trice, or an angel, were the legitimate ofispring of his delicate
chisel ; and though the Perseus partakes of the latter cha*
racter, it cannot be considered otherwise than a failure.
Icarus, when he ventured to approach the God of •Day,
failed in the bold attempt ; smaller, then, the marvel that
Canova should not surpass the son of Dedalus.

The traveller will find a notice of some other of the more
remarkable objects in the Vatican among the catalogues.

Proceeding now down the right bank of the Tiber, by a
gate under the bastion on which the Villa Cavalieri is
situated, you find the church of the hermit Sant* Onofrio,
son of a king of Persia, on the Monte Gianicolo. Here you
behold glory in all its nothingness — fortune in all her caprice

166 TASSO'S TOMB — CORSINI PALACE.

^-and genius in all its misfortune. Approach, pilgriai of
genius, and shed a tear over the tomb of Tasso ! The bones
of this celebrated poet lie immediately to the left on entering,
over which you read the following inscription : —

D. O. M.

TORQUATI . TASSI

OSSA

HIC . JACCNT .

HOC . NE . NCSCIUS . ESSE3 . IIOSPES .

FRES , HUJUS . ECCL.

P.P.

MDCX .

OBIIT . ANNO . MDXCV.

The platform before this church commands one of the
finest views of Rome^ on descending from which, and con-
tinuing your way, you come to the Palacb Corsiki. This
palace is richer in paintings even than that belonging to
the same princely family at Florence. Among a crowd of
others, I was struck in particular with the following : — A St.
Sebabtiak, by Rubens. An angel is represented drawii^
out the arrow, which has pierced his heart ; and the strides
of death are finely portrayed on a yet living countenance.
Life is visibly ebbing apace, and the cold sweat of death
bedews his forehead ; his head has fallen on his shoulder,
and his features express the unutterable sickness of a faint-
ing fit.

Susanna and the Elders, by Domenichtno. — Under
the cover of a hill, where rises a cool and refreshing spring,
the unconscious Sue laves her beauteous limbs, splashing the
water about in all the playful wantonness and freedom of
innocence unseen. Ah, luckless Sue! you little know how
mightily you are mistaken ; for, lo ! two hoary sinners are
peeping over the hill-side, and witnessing your sportive,
unrestrained gambols.

Judith, by Delia Notte. — This is a fine dramatic picture.
She enters with the head of Holofernes in her hand, as if
just come from committing the murderous deed ; and the

S. M. IN TRASTBVERE — S. M. DELL A PACE. 167

glare of taper-light assists the expression of horror which
pervades her every feature.

pROMETHSUSy by Salvator Rosa. — Whilst the vulture
is feeding, ravenous and insatiable, on his regenerating liver,
and tearing it in pieces, Prometheus roars aloud with pain,
and the glore clots on his breast. There are also some fine
landscapes by Claude, Miens, and Orizonte ; a St. John in
THB Wilderness, by Caravaggio ; an Ecce, by the divine
pencil of Dolce ; and a great many others of similar merits
for which I must refer the reader to the Appendix.

All this part of the city, at the foot of the Monte Oiani-
colo, is called Trastevere, from being on the other side of the
Tevere, or Tiber. This quarter of Rome is reckoned particu-
larly unhealthy, and must be so from its crowded and con-
fined situation, and the quantity of organic matter, the wreck
of ages, buried under its foundations. Modem Rome is in
reality the sepulchre of the ancient, and its inhabitants
breathe nought but the noisome and noxious vapours of its
decay.

There are two Churches, among many others, on this
side of the water, which the stranger may visit : Santa Maria
IN Trastevere, and Santa Maria della Pace. The
first was built by Pope Calisto the First, on the spot where
the earth poured out a stream of oil into the Tiber on the
night of the glorious nativity. They even shew you the hole
whence it flowed ; and an existing evidence of the miracle is,
that you have only to introduce your fingers, when even now
they come out besmeared with grease. What a miraculous
device — fac^h ! — when a badger's bottom is necessary to its
accomplishment and perpetuation! There is a very ancient
and fine mosaic in the Tribune, of Christ and the Virgin
SEATED, with figures on each side : that of the Virgin is both
graceful and beautiful. The ceiling of the nave is adorned
with a fine Assumption, by Domenichino ; and in a chapel
to the left you see two beautiful frescos, representing the
Verification of the Scriptures, by the same hand.

The second church, that of Santa Maria della Pace, con-
tains several esteemed paintings by celebrated masters: —

168 MICUS SC.EVOLA — HORATll'S COCLES.

Raphael's Sibyls and Prophets, painted in fresco; a Pre-
<KNTATmN OF THi: ViRGiN AT THE Temple, by PcFUzzi ; her
AssiMpnoN, bv Alb:ini ; her Birth, bv Vanni ; and her
Death. Iv ^lorante. There is also an excellent Visitation,
bv Carlo ^laratta.

Approaching the river, you come to the islet Tiburina,
>v]iere the t\unous temple of .tsculapius stood. Crossing
the i?laiul by the ancient Pons Cestius and Pons Tarpeins,
you come to the quarter inhabited by the Jews, called the
(ihetto. It was here that Porsenua encamped after having
taken the Janieulum. wliere Mucins Scaevola burnt off his
v'hSni hand, in ]>re?enee of this kiuix, for liavin^: failed of its
uttiee : am.! tlirouLrh this heroic action induced Porsenna to
rai^e tlie siej:e of Rome This quarter of the city, extending
as hii^ii up as the Ripetta, was afterwards given to Mucins,
and thence took the name of Miicia Prata.

TurniuLT to the rii;ht, you come to what is called Pilate's
Uoi sE, the remains of the Temple of Fortune, and the beau-
tiful Htile temple which Xuma built in honour of the i^foddess
\'e>ta. In this neighbourhood, also, the Cloaca Maxima
opens into the Tiber ; and hard by stand the ruins of the an-
cient Pons Senatokiis, — so named because of the senators
cro^-in^ it in their wav to consult the books of the Sibvl on
the Janieulum. A little lower, by the Porta Portese, you
see the remains of anot4ier ancient bridue, originally built by
the pru'tor Emilius Leindus, and called after him. Being
carried awav bv a tlood of the Tiber, it was rebuilt of marble
by AntoniioLS Pius, and took the name of Marmoratus. It
was from this bridge that the Romans threw their criminals
into the Tiber; and on it lloratius Codes withstood, sinirle-
handed, for some time the a-sault of the Tuscans, when they
attenqited to replace Tar([uin on the throne.

Passing the Temple of \'csta, you come to the Church op
Santa Maria in Cosmedin. Tnder the porch you see a large
ancient ma^k, which had probably served for an oracle. It
is called by the vulgar the Bocca della Verita, from a belief
of its formerly serving as an ordeal, or test of truth, by putting
the hand into its mouth : if the thing atHrmed was true, the

CHURCHES -^AQUEDUCT OF CLAUDIUS. 169

person withdrew bis hand unhurt ; but if otherwise, it was
sure to be bitten.

From this church the stranger may either proceed to the
Forum, to view the ruins situated there, as indicated in the
Appendix, or passing through the Circus Maximus, between
the Palatine and Aventine hills, get to the Church of Sait
Grbgorio, to yiew the rival frescos of Domenichino and Oaido
— the one representing the Flagellation of St. Andrew;
the other, his being led to crucifixion. Here, also, is a Statue
OF St. Gregory by Michael Angelo, and the table at which he
daily entertained ^e beggars. From this a road crosses the
Monte Cello to the churches of S. Maria Nayicella, so called
from a marble ship in front of it, placed there by Leo X., and
of S. Stefano Rotondo. In the first, the frieze in chiaro
oecuro was designed by Raphael, and painted by his pupils
Giulio Romano and Pierino del Vaga, as well as the presbytery
and two altar-pieces ; the second, again, was a temple built by
Agrippina to the god Faunus, and afterwards consecrated^ to
the first martyr by Saint Simplicius. Close by, you see some
remains of the Aqueduct of Claudius, which is said to
have cost the prodigious and almost incredible sum of 60,000
talents — about 36,000,000 crowns. A little to the south lie
the immense ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, the Tomb
OF THE SciPios, and the Arch of Drusus : towards the east
is the Church of S. Gioya*nni Laterano. This magnificent
basilica was built by Constantine the Great, and is the mother
church of Rome. The ceiling is entirely gilt, and it contains
several singular objects of cariosity. Observe the three porches
of marble, through which, it is mid^ our Saviour passed when
taken befoi^ Pontius, close to which there formerly stood the
porphyry chair, on which the new-elected pope sat, and suf-
fered it to be ascertained of what gender he was — a ceremony
appointed after the discovery of the English papess (Joan),
who once occupied the emasculate chair of St. Peter; but this
is now discontinued. The rude baptismal fonts of porphyry
which you see, were given by Constantine ; and the tomb, of
the same valuable stone, at the end of the church, is thought
to be that of his mother, St. Helen. This-church contains a

1-". '.N " — ?.i.L::S — SCALA SANTA.

"7. :!.- f-r-: :li: wa? ever exhibited at
?.-- .-r :_.::.;. :r-::.::i relic?. Anioni:

- '--: c-r : i: of" wh:oh the apoj-tle
.''-'_^ -.; -:r. ^::L ::;.t uLitv : the chains

- ~ --- L . -^ v. jL: : : R : n.^ : aij J Ids tunic,
-^.r:-: ::' r.>>„j :Le -itad : but this,

- :. ■_ j'.'^.- niustv, LiiS lost its powers
~L-. . •'.: L ".V \ irjiii made for the

'. -.:!: -^l.::!. Cl:::s: wiinid the feet of

:.zL s'«. :.jr :V::. ^hich he drank;

-^ -.:-.: :..".: r.r^ri frvau his wounded

. :' J :-:s 1 .:r ::*>:. J.Ln the Baptist;

M-r-:- . :... A:.~ ::'s rc^is : the wooden

>: ^.:::l^ v .^j tfiien : all the sacred

, ; -ijL: :-.::: ^.l:•Il:on*s Temple by

:.. - --. :..'..•: -::: wl.ioh the sokliers

....: s ^\-::..:.:s: aii-i an ahar made

'.;: f-.... :.::.??. ..:./. ^^ l.trt- none but the

«. - . > . N • ^

c

. . .V. . V

- : : /..irv?'. :. ::»<: left. This edifice
s. :w.„:y-t:_!.: in numWr, which
s l.use ;\: JtTUialem : thev are
/„ :::• >.-.'. :.;;r asotnJed when led
Nv ■ : ! •. 1 . . s 1 1 . : ..: . a : : 1 w h t re d e v o t ees
vi: ::.c :r kihtrs for indul-
^v ...- <.'•■ F.>:.r M. :;.:.. V :: !s o':::t i:ui:vT0i:s to see the
v•'v^^.!^ v f :i >1 .1 :'.-v.\:!v> ^^^. k:-...i i::t:r >Miy up; and on

:^, 0...:' vl c.-'.ltvl the Sanctum
..«•. of our Saviour, which is
^,-...' :.» :..\\o 'v\oi: vu>:_:.!.v: *\ *^:. L\:k^.\ a::d tinislied bv an
, •.\;vl. n.:> r.ii.ut :- l>v^-i.o ::: ^r:;:!.! ]">rooossion every year,
0-' :'.u^ i i'.ii o!' V:;_;>:. TO i:io okuivh oi' >. ^laria MairLriore,
NX, .0:0 i: \\\s-os ti.o muk: : a".d :::o utxt clav it is brouixht back
u^ :r> 0N\ u don ioilo w hh t'.;o s;inio tpithahunic j>omp and
^v^'a '.r.r.;t\ . W retoliOil siipi vstilkm I >\ ht^rc will you stop?

l\u*;ni: the pojvh of M. .lolnTs you will perceive an avenue
v't' NiHMi^- i:iH^^, \>hioh h\ui< lo tlu' church oi^ Santa Croce.
liu- N\,ilU to ila' K't't an^ tiio>o ofanciiHt H()nh\ built bv

RELICS IN SANTA CROCE< 171

Marcus Aurelius ; and close to the church are the ruins of
the Amfiteatro Castrense, erected by Tiberius for the amuse-
ment of the soldiers. Santa Croce was built by Constantine
the Gh-eat, near the Temple of Venus and Cupid. This
church is chiefly remarkable for the relics it contains. The
body of St. Anastatius lies under the grand altar ; and among
the relics are the following : — A phial containing some of the
blood of our Saviour ; three morsels of the holy cross ; two
thorns from the crown of scorn, and a nail of the cross.
These nails, it may be remarked, have multiplied in a mar*
vellous manner. Every Christian knows that the Propitiation
was ignominiously attached to the cross by three nails only —
one through each hand, and a third transfixing both feet.
Now histoiy makes mention of one which the Empress Helen
caused to be thrown into the Adriatic to appease a storm,
and it did so ! — we also know that Constantine the Great made
a bit for his horse of another ; and the third he had made into
a pummel for his sword ! Nevertheless, besides these, there is
another, as we have seen, in Santa Croce, a fifth at Venice,
another at Siena, a seventh at Milan, and the cathedral of
St. Denis, near Paris, boasted of possessing an eighth. A
Catholic writer very ingenuously asks, '* How are we to ac-
count for this? Why, that it is a miracle ; and if God should
will it BO, there might be a hundred more." It must be con-
fessed, that nothing can more satisfactorily explain this
untoward circumstance. A miracle explains, in the most
accommodating mood, every stumbling anomaly ; and heretics
even must admit that there is nothing impossible with faith.
The same may be said with equal probability and truth of the
wood of the holy cross. It has been computed that a hundred
wagons would not hold all the genuine chips of this precious
relic ; and yet every separate morsel is authenticated beyond all
doubtl In this church they likewise preserve the sceptical finger
of St. Thomas ; a scrap of the inscription which Pilate caused
to be placed over the head of the crucified Redeemer ; and one
of the thirty pieces of gold, the price of Judas's treachery.

By the Porta Maggiore you see the remains of a fine
aqueduct. Turning northward, you find the ruins of the '

172 CHURCHES — 8. M. MAGOIOBE — S. PIETRO IN VINCOLI.

Templb op Minerva Mbdica, in a garden to the right ; and
crossing the Esquiline hill, upon which the ancients burned
the bodies of their dead, and which afterwards became Me-
ceenas's garden, you descend, and the Church op Sta. Maria
Maooiore appears before you : it is sometimes called ** ad
PrsBsepe," from its containing, among its relics, a portion of
the holy manger ; sometimes S. M. Oenitriz, a more profane
appellation, borrowed from one of Venus's cognomina.

In this church there is a chapel consecrated to a certain
St. Anthony, the protector of mules and asses. On the festiTal
of the saint, the people lead these favoured beasts to the
church all saddled and caparisoned, where they duly receive
an annual benediction, and get sprinkled with holy water.
A majestic fluted column of the Corinthian order stands in
front of this church : it was found in the ruins of the Temple
of Peace, and placed here by Paul the Fifth. On the oppo*
site side there is a handsome Egyptian obelisk, which for*
merly ornamented the Mausoleum of Augustus.

At the foot of the Monte Viminale you find the church of
St. Prudenti an a, famous for her pious care of the bodies of the
martyrs who were massacred in thousands in her days ; and
hard by, that of her sister, St. Prassede. In this church
you see, in a chapel which was formerly the oratory of
St. Zeno, enclosed by a trellis of iron, the Column to which
our Saviour was bound when scourged. Here, a}80, it is
believed that St. Peter said mass in person.

From the church of St. Prassede, let the visitor go to that
of San Pibtro in Vincoli, so named from its possessing the
chains which bound this apostle in prison when released by
the angel. This church is remarkable for the Tomb of Pope
Julius the Second, and the Statue of Moses, by Michael
Angelo, which adorn it. Among the gigantic works of this
great artist, the sublime Statue of Moses, the Basilica of
St. Peter's, and the Last Judgment, form the three chefs*
(Tceuvre. The august forehead of Moses seems but a trans*
parent veil which scarce covers his immense mind ; his
beard descends to his middle ; his mouth is full of expression,
and the thought seems only to wait utterance.

ROSPIOLIOSI PALACE — MONTE CAVALLO. 173

Next proceed to the Palace Rospigliosi, and yiew
Grnido's celebrated allegorical representation in fresco of the
Rising of the MoENiifo Star. While Night still envelops the
vast sea in her mantle of grey, lit only here and there by the
foam of the bubbling waves ; jroang, innocent, and beautiful,
clothed in variegated veils of every iridescent hue, emblema*
tical of the clonds which accompany her, Aurora of a sudden
appears with flowers in both her hands, and the sky reddens
aroond her. She advances with her head reverted, and eyes
full of tenderness, regarding the God of Day, who, with looks
not less affectionate, is gazing at his beloved harbinger as he
follows in her train. In full day these two lovers never can
have but a glimpse of each other. Four superb coursers
playfully graze the azure waves : these acquire the tint of the
blushing star, and are magnetically harnessed to a car of ver-
milion. The youngest daughters of rosy-fiiigered Mom, the
Hours, so like their mother, laughing, hold each other by the
hand around the chariot of the Sun, whilst hovering between
the goddess and the steeds, Cupid bears the flaming torch of
day ; he shakes it over the universe ; parting tears tremble
on the eyelids of Aurora ; and in an instant daylight shines
abroad.

There are several other fine paintings in this pavilion.
A deep and richly toned Landscape, by Ouercino ; a fine
magic painting of Sophonisba drinking the Poison, by
II Galabrese; Adam plucking Fig-leaves for Eve, by
Bomenichino ; and an Andromeda, by Gruido. Here like-
wise is a fine Pieta, by Hannibal Caracci; and David's
Triumph, by Domenichino.

The Monte Cavallo is hard by ; so named from the two
marble horses which were presented by Tiridates, king of
Armenia, to Nero; and, if the inscription on their pedestals
be genuine, are the rival works of Phidias and Praxiteles,
representing Alexander and his horse Bucephalus.

Turning up the street to the right, you come to the Church
of Sant' Andrea, and that of Victory. Ye lovers, deserted op
betrayed by your mistresses, enter not the latter ; for here
sculpture, in representing the Death of St. Theresa, has

171- SVMA MARIA DEGLI ANGELl

clii-olled »i tiirure Sd exquisitely lovely as to renew all your
paius. She i> luilf roeunibcnt ; luul her eye?, her feature?,
eveiy llnil), are yielded up, and languish in an attitude too
voluptuous lor a saint, or for chastity, under any denoniinatiou,
to appear in, in iCLiardiuiX which the mind involuntarilj- blushes.
This statue is hy Tx-ruiui. Nearly o])posite to this is the Forx-
TAiN OF Mosi:<, so called from a suidime fi2:ure of this letri^-
lator which ornaments it. It is seud-colossal. With a rod in
hi-^ hand Moseys is striking the rock in the desert ; and there
is a terrific calmness in the countenance fittinjx the dicrnifiixl
airent of Divine ])ower. Two lions, in black marble, repose
at his feet : from their half-open mouths two streams of water
e*-cape into a nuirble reservoir below. Art can execute
repose, but ordinarily it is the repose of death — here it is
the repose of life.

l)efore LioiiiLi: t(^ the Palace Harberini, let the stranixer
first vi-it tlie Cnnu'H or St. Maim a dkgli Axgeli, and the
ruins of the l^alhs of Diocle>ian, in thi< neighbourhood. Tlie
clunvh is in the form of a Latin cross, and owns Buonarotti
tor its aichitect. Salvator Ro^a and (Jarlo Maratta lie buried
liere : ovei* Mai'atta's irrave you read,

soi.iM Mini MPiuLsr SI IT r ( iinrM.

He foi'Liot the fanu^ of an inunortal name emblazoned even
in this church by a ])aiutiiii>: from his own pencil, The Bap-
'iisM or CiiiM^r. This is Maratta's cJicf-divuvrCy from whicli
the fine copy in mosaic, in the* Chigi cluipel at Siena, was
taken. ( hrist is standinif in the water; and his entire fiixure
is so truly divine, that you can scarce spare a glance to some
beautiful amrels, who kneeliuii; witness the mystic sacrament.
Nothing could ]>e bett(»r managed than the composition of
this picture : the eye cannot wander from the principal
subject ; and the tone of colouring is in softest, most harmo-
nious diapason. Maratta was among the ult'unl Romanorum ;
and in Battoni and Costanza, who followed, you can plainly
perceive the decline of the art. In the same transept you see
Domenichino's iNIartyrdom of St. Sebastian. Sebastian is
l»ound to a cross* and liis countenance expresses the resig-

ITS PAINTINGS — BATHS OF DIOCLESIAK. 175

nation of a martyr : a figure in the foreground is preparing
his bow and quiver, whilst a centurion rides furiously over
a group of females who had come to behold the execution*
This circumstance spreads a variety of expression among the
assembly ,^-of fright, commiseration, and curiosity : that of a
child is particularly fine, of mingled timidity and curiosity*
There are four other good paintings in this church : St.
PsTSR RAisiNa Tabitha FROM THB DsAD, by Placido
Costanza ; the Fall of Simon Magus, by Pompeo Battoni ;
the same subject repeated by an artist whose pencil I could
not recognise ; and a Crucifixion of St. Pbtbr. In Cos-
tanza's painting yon see the traits of death making their
escape from Tabitha's countenance, and supplanted by those
of gratitude springing fresh into life : the surprise of the
attendants is likewise Well expressed. In Battoni's St. Peter
the expression is that of calm consciousness of his inspired
miraculous power ; and the composition of the whole displays
great art : note the out-stretched hand of the devil, directing
the eye downwards, lest it should dwell too long on the
figure of the magician; and when the spectator's regard has
obeyed the secret impulse, it is again led into the circle by
the attitude of the female who is seated below. In the other
representation of the same subject there are several fine
points : remark the beautiful figure of a female seated, with
an infant at her breast ; and the fine fore-shortening in the
upper part of a male figure, who, with fright and horror in
his countenance, seems to fiy towards the spectator.

To the left of this church you find the ruins of the Baths
of Dioclbsian, consisting of remains of walls of prodigious
thickness; chambers and vaults sustained on enormous
pillars, and subterraneous cisterns. These, as the reader
may know, were built by convicted Christians, persecuted by
the cruel Emperor whose name the ruins bear* Upwards oi
40,000 men were employed during the space of fourteen
years in their construction, and as their recompense, it is
said, they all sufiered martyrdom.

Return now to the Fountain of Moses, and descending
the street to the Quatro Fontane, you come to the Palazzo

176 BAKBERINI PAIACE — THE PAINTINGS.

IVkkpfrtm. Htiv art and prodigality have disputed with
tWv^li otiuT wh.ich were to outvie in perfecting this noble

Ir. :'!iO tr.:rar.co-bail tlieie are two fine statues, one of
Fix, ly M.oiiatl Aiictlo. the other of Diana, by Bernini:
K:!i ;ire i\>lit;\ arid make a tine contrast. Here also is a
l..:v^e paiiKii-c l\v iho iiur^rotic pencil of II Calabrese, repre-
Mi;::!.^ >v. t ATiUKiNK IN Phison, in which the dark tone
of :\\c cy.o\\v::\z oorre>iMiul? admirably with the depth of
^.ttiiL-t'o:; diviotid 1 \ t!io 5u]»ieot. From this you enter the

* • » ^

C!v:\: l...'l. a::.l fto :iu^ uiacnitioent fresco which enriches
li.o oiil::.^.. l\ Fitrv^ iia Coriona. Four rooms open from
tliis : in :lu t:r>:. i\ iiiaT'k a -MviiDALEN, bv Guercino : often
a> iliis siil'iot >va> | ai'.ittii by the artist, he appears in this
in<ta!u*o tv> b.a\i' siir: asrtd himself. The custode now con-
ducts )ou up >taii^ tv> a suit o{ live rooms, decked with
raintiu::> bv ilio tii'-t lr.a^:t*^s : l>ut for these in detail I must
refer tlie Vi aiu r to die Ap|Hiuii\ : yet two or tliree demand
pariioular noTi*.'e. In the second room observe a St. Jerome,
bv Spa^noU'iro. ^ili^ master's style of pencilliuix was quite
ada]ned to such a subject : iiivleed, lie painted nothiuir more
lVei[uenilv : and the macerated, mortiried, solitary ascetic
stands per>onit\inir abstinence in its utmost rigour and
wretchedness.

.losK.ru AM) Pot umiak's Win:, bv Biliverti. The vir-
tuous Iiorror and repui:nance o{ .losepli are admirably ex-
pressed. Had an ordinary arti^t painted the scene, Joseph's
i\)untenance would, nrobablv, have exhibited only a volcano
of contortion, and every disruptetl feature had been wTenched
fmm its natural place only to caricature the feeling. Here
vou have the workings of the soul as they appear through
the features lit from within, and thus Hindered visible by
rcHection on the transparent veil that intervenes.

A Sacrifice to Diana, by the gay and classical pencil
of Poussin.

FoRNARiNA, by Raphael. This ditiers from the one in
the tribune of the Florence Gallery ; and the polite custode of
the palace will have it that this is the only true original.

THE CENCI — CHURCH OF THE CAPUCHINS. 177

Portraits of the Cbnci and her Mothbr : the last is by
Graetani, the first by Ghiido. The reader, perhaps, already
knows the sad history attached to the first of these portraits.
Cenci owned a monster for a father, who strove to seduce his
own child. Horror-struck at the unnatural purpose, Cenci
withstood her father's revolting attempts. At length, being
threatened with violence, she made her mother the confidant
of her wrongs. The latter furnishes this second Lucretia
with a da^er, and instructs her how to use it : the avowed
ravisher comes — again employs persuasion with no avail;
he now has recourse to force, and the parricidal hand of his
own daughter alone could stay his incestuous attempt. Cenci
is tried — convicted, for the Cenci offered no defence — and
executed ! We have now to r^ard her portrait, taken in
the dress in which she suffered. Her pallid cheek bespeaks
the sadness and inward horror of her feelings ; and yet you
may perceive that a sense of virtue vindicated tempers the
severity of her i^ony, shedding beams of most melancholy
sweetness over a countenance of the loveliest expression. —
Lovely, unfortunate Cenci ! how imperious soever the deed,
and however well merited the punishment, yet Fate dealt
harshly by thee, sweet girl, that thy hand should be obliged
to strike the murderous blow ! *

I cannot quit this palace without mentioning a trait of
the great condescension of this princely family to strangers.
When I came, the young Princess Barberini was taking a
lesson of her music -master ; and as I proceeded onward in
viewing the apartments, dhe most politely retreated from
room to room, until she could actually retreat no further ; so
I called another day, by appointment, before I could see the
Cenci, which is in the last room of the suite.

Near the Piazza Barberini you find the Church op tub
Capuchins, which contains Ouido*s celebrated painting of the
Archakgbl Michael, — the Apollo of painting, as it has been

* Plutarch (in Parall.) mentions a similar case of parricide committed
by MeduUina on her father Aruntius ; but Cenci had more to palliate her
crime than MeduUina -»- her ftitber was not inebriated.

N

ITS I'lAZZA BARBERIM S. M. DEL POPOLA.

cliuracteristiciiUy ilosiixuf^ted. IVothiiig can exceed the beauty
of the iipjK'r part of the fiiriirc, but the lower hinl)s are some-
what har?h in the outline. Opposite to this is a paiiithig by
Da ("ortona, of Pai l keceiving nis Sigut ; and in a chapel
to the rii::ht, the Death of St. Francis, the founder of the
order of the mendicant friars, bv Ludovico Caracci. He
expires in the arms of an angel; and the scene is laid in a
rich landscape. There is a fine copy of this paintin^^ in
mo>aic in St. Peter's.

The Piazza Bakherini occupies the site of the ancient
Circus of Flora, in the centre of which a Triton throws up
water throuLrh a shell from a fountain : hence a street leads
in a straiirlit line to the Monte P'litcio ; or the stran^cer may
descend the 17^/ (A7 Trifone, and get, by the Fcnnitain of the
Trcv'iy to the neighbourhood of Trajan s and Antonine's
( 'olinn/ts. At the extremity of the Monte Pincio, vou find
yourself at the Liate bv which you first entered Rome. The
Poit r.\ i)i:i. PoroLA is thought to have been a triumphal arch
eii'Oted by Hilisarius. It was anciently called the Porta
llaminia, from the r'ni of that name connnencing here, and
^onuMinies inunicntana, from its proximity to the river. To
the ri-'ht of this uate, on uointi; out, you find the (,'hi'rch of
Santa Maria dee Potola. The first and second chapels were
painted bv Pintnriechio, l)etween which there is a paintinc:
on the wall in oil hy Maratta. In the chapel to the right
vou see an A>MMrTiON of the Viimun, by Hannibal Caracci,
and that of the Chigi family was designed by Raphael, as was
also tiie Stati E or Jonas : the other statues are by Bernini.
From this the stranger may })roceed down the Corso, and
visit the church of San Carlo al Corso, and that of San
Lorenzo in Lucina ; for the objects in which 1 nnist refer to the
cataloii'ue ; or, lcoiul:: by the Hipetta, visit the Mausoletm
OF Ariii sTi s. This magnificent palace of death is now used
as a sort of bear-garden ; and the roarings of the baited wild
beast is heard over the former silence of the trt'aye. It is
somewhat ditHcult to find it out, glided as it is into a corner,
crundding to pieces like a dried corse, covered with dust and
bv aiit's which devom* it. Lower down, vou come to the

BOaCHESB PALACE — THE PAINTINGS. 179

Palagb Borohbse. Here the visitor will be struck with
astonishment at the great number and excellence of the
paintings which it contains. They are arranged in a suite
of nine apartments ; and, by the truly princely munificence
of the owner, a custode is in daily attendance to shew them
to strangers. Among the host of such a superb collection,
I may note the following : —

In the Second Room observe a superlatively fine painting
of a Prize-shootinq Party among Diana*s Nymphs, by
Domenichino. In a rich landscape scene of wood, water,
hill, and dale, Diana has assembled her nymphs at a trial of
skill. The prizes are seen hanging to a may -pole. Three
nymphs compete for the palm, and the moment taken for
representation is that of victory. A wood-pigeon had been
tied by the leg to a post, and the arrow of the first sticks in
it; the second has cut the string in two ; and just as the bird
was about to escape, the arrow of the third has transfixed its
head. A shout of joyful triumph is uttered by the goddess;
while two dogs held in a leash by a nymph are eager to
spring on the lifeless bird. Others of her nymphs, in the fore-
aground, bathe their fair limbs in a pool of limpid water, too
translucent far for frail flesh to contemplate with indifierence.
What delightful pastime ! to partake in which, where is the
stoic even that would not risk the fate of Actceon !

Room III. — A Holy Family, by Pierino del Vaga.
Raphael's pupil has here copied all his master's grace. A
virgin of enchanting beauty holds an infant on her knee, to
whom a little St. John is presenting fruit.

Room IV. — A Female Magiciah, by Dosso Dossi; and
where is the female that is not a magician ? But Dossi has
incorporated the whole magic of the sex in this one figure.

A Magdalen, by Fontana. Her auburn hair floats in
sparse ringlets over a bosom of alabaster, and her tears only
make her the more lovely. Cease, cease your weeping, fairest
of penitents, else I shttU doubt the sincerity of your tears, and
think you a mere sentimental coquette! Note Raphael's
celebrated Descent feom the Cross, and particularly the
figure (of St John) who supports the shoulders.

180 riXZZA NAVONA CHURCH OF ST. AGNES.

Tni: CRIMEAN Sibyl, hy Domeiiicliino. This, in myjiul^-
niniT, i> tlu' iiU'^t c'liariiiin<r of all the heathen prophetesses
I have vot >oon painted. The liLrht of inspiration shines in
her larm' hliie eves. The first si^ht of day cannot be more
ileli^htt'ul to the bliiul restored to sight, than the impression
ilii^-ilivine paintiiii;" makes, and you look upon it as a celestial
virion.

Room V. eontains four circular paintings by Albani,
Muiilar to those ot' a ditVereiit form, by the same artist, in the
l.iMivre at Taris. That representing Adoms departing for
rur Ch v-.r i>, ji rliaps, the most pleasing of the four. Adonis
i^ bituilii^ hi^ mi^iri'^s, tor the thou'^andth time, adieu, with the
pre-eniinuni that it is to he for the last time; while Venus,
streiehivl at length on the irrten irrass, surrounded bv cud-
illinu- rupitls, hi'L^s him not to go, with looks so sweet, enti-
eina. auii persua>i\e, tiiat you perceive he still lingei'S on the
eansa^s. unal»le \o jiart. \\ hat a strong cobweb Love can
>|MU ! Slnu'lvU- ot adamant are not half so irrefrani^ible.

In tiu^ St^NOHth Kooin tliere is a Titian, intended to repre-
mui Pi vio\u Ami iion, and love of a more human kind.
Imu \\\c :\\:\<\, in treating the subject, has made a distinction
»uhiMii a ii.tlevmee. (hie of the tiirures is more clothed than
\\\c o\\\c\\ and this eonipri>es the whole point of contrast.
S|>lin,hil. rich, and harmonious as was Titian's taste for
eolvMiriU"-. ht^ raroK e\iuees anv com]>ass of poetical imairina-
iu>n . et>^iunu^ almost aUiui' tbrm^ his idea of character; and
if lu^ paint a Magdalen, slie seem> to weep only through the
help t^f an onuMi anil some Mpiee/iui:".

All ilii> iMiarter ot' the eitv, hv the edLce of the Tiber, is
tht^ site of tlu* ancient Campus Marlins.

I'rom tin* l\dace Horghese, let the stranger go to the
V{ \// V .N WON A, and \iew the superb fountain which adorns
it. This was aucientlv the I'orum Aiionis, where Numa
in«-tituttul the lestival o( the Aixonalia, in honour of the jrod
who presidtnl i»ver enterpri^^e of every sort, it was afterwards
the eiri'us of .\le\anih'r the IMous. 'I'he CnnuMi of St. Agnes
stands on the western side o( this j)aralh*logram, in which
ohM'rve the nuirtyrdom of this >aint in marble : opposite.

CHURCH OF S. ANDREA — THE CAPITOL. 181

there is an ancient statue, which, by a little management, has
made an excellent St. Sebastian.

A little further to the westward you come to the Palacr
FsRNBSB. This noble edifice was built by Paul the Third,
after designs by Michael Angelo, of materials chiefly taken
from the Colosseum. It now belongs to the royal house of
Naples ; and the celebrated Farnese Hercules, by Glycon,
the Toro, and other fine pieces of sculpture, have been re-
mored to the studj at Naples. None of its former precious
ornaments remain, save the noble Frescos of Hannibal
Caracci.

Before getting to the Capitol, let the stranger, in his way,
▼isit the Church of Sant Andrea della Vallb. This church
IS adorned with some fine fresco paintmgs by Lanfranco, U
Calabrese, and Domenichino. Those of the last occupy the
lower part of the ceiling of the Tribune, and the comers
immediately under the cupola. The figures of Hope and
Charity are particularly fine. In the Barberini Chapel you
see an excellent Visitation by Passignano. This chapel was
built by Urban VIII. over the spot, it is said, where the body
of St. Sebastian was found ; and the site of the church itself
is on that where the Curia of Pompey stood, in which Csesar
was assassinated. Opposite to the Barberini you see the
Strozzi Chapel, of which Michael Angelo was the archi-
tect. It is quite a bijou of art, for nothing can well be more
beautiful or perfect. On entering it, the spectator is im-
pressed with a feeling as if he had come out of a dungeon
into full day ; and yet the body of this church is in no part
either heavy or gloomy.

For a notice of several other churches in this quarter, I
must refer to the Appendix.

Arriving now at the Capitol, you ascend to it by 124
steps, which were all taken from the ancient temple of Quiri-
nus. Facing you, in the middle of the Piazza^ you see the
superb bronze equestrian Statue of Marcus Aueelius.
It was to this statue that Michael Angelo said '^ Cammina/' — a
command that was needless, for it seems to keep continually
marching time on its pedestal ; and crack but a whip, and

182 THE PIAZZA — PALACE OF THE CONSERVATORI.

it would Start off at a gallop. Viewed in front, the majestic
head of AureliuSy and the no less majestic of its kind, of the
horse, first catch the eye, to which the right hand of the rider
gives additional life ; but, taken in all points, it is equally
faultless and beautiful. Remark the graceful bending of the
horse's neck ; the natural, easy, and dignified position of the
rider. The statue must once have been gilt, for some of the
gilding is still perceptible.

Enter now the Palace of the CoN8ERVATORi,to the right.
In the open quadrangle, before ascending to the Picture Gral-
lery, observe a group in marble of a Lion which has seized
A Horse : the horse is down on his haunches, and the beast is
biting his sides : the neigh of horror is finely expressed, for the
pain of the wound is lost in the stronger feeling. Under the
arcade, facing the entrance, you see a fine group of Rome
Triumphant, with a captive Dacian King on each side, and
a bas-relief of the Weeping Province is let into the centre
pedestal. This last figure is represented seated, leaning her
head on her arm, wailing in bitterness of heart her humbled,
abject, tributary condition. Here, also, you see a head and
hand of enormous proportions in bronze, part of a statue of
the Emperor Commodus ; and a colossal foot of marble, of
which the great toe alone measures a foot and a half, thought
to have belonged to the statue of Nero, which, for its colossal
size, gave the name of Colosseum to the noble Amphitheatre
of Vespasian. We are told that this statue stood in the
centre of the arena, and was 120 feet in height, the stu-
pendous work of a Greek sculptor named Zenodorus. After
the death of the monster it represented, this statue was dedi-
cated to the sun.

Ascend now the stairs, and visit the apartments, not op^i
to the public generally ; but for the particulars contained in
them, I knust again refer to the end of the volume. As there
is still a good deal to describe in Rome, I must hurry the
traveller on to the paintings in this palace, of some of which
let him take the following brief sketch : —

Guido*s Bacchus and Ariadne. Seated on a rock by
the sea-shore, where the billowy ocean splashes its hushing

PALACE OP THE CONSERVATORI — THE PAINTINGS. 183

waten on the beach, you see the lovely Ariadne listening to
the passionate suings of her youthftil lover. And here the
artist displays the propriety of his judgment ; for the lover of
Ariadne is not represented as the rude and noisy god of port
and porter, but the delicate, respectful deity of champagne
non mausseux.

A Magdalen, by Guercino. Her grief is beautiful, not
affecting ; for she cries like a child that wanted a play-thing.

Another, by the same. — Here the fair penitent is kneeling
before a skull, flogging himself; but, like Sancho, she takes
special good care to lay it very gently on.

AncUher, by Albani. The Magdalen weeps most piteously,
it is true ; but yet you cannot help perceiving they are a
woman's tears, that, like an April shower, only brighten the
heaven from whence they fall.

How different all these, and Guide's to boot, from the
same subject by Tintoretto ! Here you see real compunction
— sincere, deep, and solemn — glaring dimly, yet visibly, in
every wretched feature. A skull and crucifix are beside her ;
her only covering a mat ; her couch, a bed of rushes ; and
with clasped hands and weeping heart, expressive of the
misery of guilt in all its utter desolation, she fervently im-
plores the forgiveness of her offended God.

Poussin s Triumph op Flora. In a car, drawn by two
azure-winged Cupids, lovely as May-mom, and fresh as the
vernal breeze. Flora sits smiling like an opening rose-bud.
A crowd of adorers (and who is not of the number ? ) encircle
the goddess, and press round her car, presenting their sweet-
est primituB^ primroses and every blooming flower; while
nymphs, as beauteous as the posies they hold in their hands,
dance before, and strew her path with others, of every
faigrant scent and rariegated hue.

Guercino's Pbbsian Sibyl is beautiful as a painting, and
particularly in the management of the drapery ; but her eye
is small, and bespeaks none of that inspiration which shines
so resplendently in Domenichino's Cumban. Here you have
loveliness in full bloom ; eyes like a new-unfolded convol-
vulus, blue and clear as the unclouded vault of heaven, and

1^1- iALvr. .'7 HIE r«:)N>ERVAT''RI TME PAINTINGS.

reo::/.r.j wi'h -••^'>-r!.^:>? that never clovf : bp»ws arcluxl like
rii^"- rn::.' •:'^^ : 1^.-, cl.errv-ripe, th\t sue to W^ pre>M-(l : ami a
f■•^^ .t-ri.i t'jir, l-irv, -.ii : » :^t ;in?ive — t-O sinoo'ii "'ud polishod
r:ir It :\.^ v.rii.k'.f i i* v: «jI L':ire i" rest '-n. Guercino's mav
prupl.e-v. "jii'l r-~k < ii-^ wuM o.iirradict so pretty a hulv —
' /• '/ * ./ •'. -. :l.:i'*- Jill: D:»:r.t-i.i«.'lJn'j'^, a-'uin, has only
Vj avf.r, r » ii.akf^ -o^ prieisni irs^ll' the nio-si credulous (•!*
converts.

'YiiK r;EAi:FiED >riRir, I'V (Tiiido. The artist has re-
prr-t-nrrd tlii-^ -iii'liiiie i'U^i bv a tiirure with wiiijis, standiiiii
on t1i»' iiMi -'^ vt r j».' *\ the world. rea<lv to take tiiixht to
n'_:ioii- f»v'>nd th*- 1-t tixud star: but he has failed in the
coIraniiiLT — iitik-d in L'i^inj: it that c^^atin:^ of ether which
the re]»re-=«'ntjiti"n of -iich a s\ihjeot deniandrd ; and vut no
j)eneillini: v.as so npproj riate as Guido's to such a delinea-
tion, for the liliie nii-t of the moon soeni-i alwavs to hauix
round this artist's pallet. The LTetieral tiirure is spare, not
delicate : humaniry emaciated, not spiritualised ; and to nie
it appears more like a beincr tliat had fretted itself to a
fi<ldle-strin<j at tlie loss of its ^oul, than the ethereal repre-
sentation of the divine essence frt^ed from the dross of iiior-
talitv. Xevcrthele-is there is a certain j^i'ace in the greneral
outline : but it is chilliii'j:, mea'j:re, and revolting in detail,
colon rinir, and execution — onlv tit to >it on a cohl cloud, and
manufacture snow-drift, or cool the scorched moths that flit
too near the sun.

Let us walk into the other room.

The first paintinp; that strikes the observer is Guercino's
Apotheosis of >t. Petromlla. Fault has been found
with Raphael's Transi igvration, because it represented a
double action. Here this objection is moi'e forcibly apj)li-
cable, for the unities of both time, place, and action, arc
still more manifestly disreixarded, without any redeeminLr
skill in the composition of it to compensate the transgression.
In the lower part of the picture you se(^ the interment of Pe-
troriilla ; and in the upper, her apotheosis. The first is so
manaii'ed as to dmui the eve downwards, and there bury it
in the same cold grave with the dead i)ody of the saint.

PALACE OF THE CONSERVATORI THE PAINTINGS. 186

Escaping frcmi this uncomfortable scene, by a sensible effort of
the will — a circumstance always uniayourable to a pleasing
impression, for the chain of feeling is broken in upon, and its
unison destroyed — the eye now rests, in the upper part of
the canvass, on the figure of the saint received into heaven.
There it may rest, and with pleasure ; but should it wander
towards two figures behind that of Christ, it is carried in-
voluntarily hence, to admire the white-washing of the ceiling.
Yet, with all these defects, it is a noble painting, abounding
in beautiful, though unconnected, groups; and time has
given it its richest, mellowest tint.

Paul Veronese's Eubopa. This well-known painting
possesses all the characteristics of the Venetian school in an
eminent degree : drapery beautifully and highly finished ;
colouring brilliant and harmonious ; and the composition of
the whole extremely well balanced. In a rich landscape-
scene £nropa is represented seated on the back of the bull,
which lies in an attitude of repose, licking his mistress's feet
There is a lascivious warmth, in this picture, of colouring,
action, and attitude,, that. quickens the pulse, and insensibly
makes the bashful blush, and the chaste to turn aside.

Cleopatra before Augustus, by the same artist. She
kneels at the feet of the victor, and iinplores death with the
earnestness, and in all the despair, of love plucked in full
blossom.

Gaido's Eubopa. Here you have this artist's usual
lovely femtde, who indifferently serves as a Mag, Lucretia,
or Earopa, as attributes may denote* She is r^rding
Cupid, who returns her love-sick looks vnth an arrow.

A Witch, by Salvator Rosa. Sitting in her den, resting
her feet on cabalistic figures enclosed in a circle, edged by
bits of candles that are lit, the hag is consulting a book filled
with figures of mystical meaning, and characters legible only
to spirits who have learned their alphabet of the deviK

The Conversion op St. Paul. The conception of the
composition of this painting is particularly appropriate and
striking, and resembles the bursting of a bomb-shell. The
accompanying figures fly out of the picture in all directions,

ISG MISEO r APITOLINO THE DYING GLADIATOR.

and leave the eye to gaze undisturbed on the flounderintr
hor-^e and fallen hor-ienian.

>o. 7^) marks a beautiful Landscape, by Domenichino ;
and his Fool of Bethesda is not less fine. Observe, also,
two St. Sebastians, one bv Ludovico Caracci, the other by
CiutTrino : but both of them sutler the arrow to stick in their
breasts with tiie same indifference as if it were a flower-stalk
Ky{ heart s-ease, and more particularly that by the often-un-
meaning: pencil of Guerciuo. Guercino w%is a painter, but
no Lrlazier; his eyes shew no transparency; his corneas are
literallv hnrnv, not lucid — mere stable lanterns; and vou
look in vain for crvstal any where, to exhibit the inward
workiuixs of tlie ht-art.

0]i]>osite the j>alace of the Conservatori you find the MrsEO
(\\riTOi.iNO, appropriated to statuary in marble and bronze.
Iveforrinix to the Apjiendix for the minuter details, I may draw
the visitor's attetition to the following more particularly: —

TuE Dying (Gladiator. Sittiiuj: on the irround, and
supporting himself on his arm, remark how finely the faint-
ness of approachinir death is portrayed in his countenance :
his lu'ad droops, as the life-stream gushes from his wounded
side ; but this expres-ion is not confined to the countenance
— every limb dies. It was in this school that [Michael An-
ireh^ studied : and the arm on which tlie (iladiator rests was
restored by this inimitable artist. But to call this statue a
Gladiator, is, in my opinion, a misnomer. His short, coarse
hair, the profile of his nose, the form of his eyebrows, his
mustachios, a kind of collar round his neck ; nothing, in
short, accords with the figures of gladiators elsewhere repre-
sented, but denote appropriately that of a barbarian warrior.
Gtesilas was the sculptor. The character of soul represented
in this statue is truly astonishinir, and beautifully illustrates
the remark of Hume, when he says that, '* it will be found
that the most perfect ])roduction still proceeds from the most
perfect thought, and that it is mind alone which we admire,
while we bestow our applause on the graces of a well-pro-
portioned statue, or the synunetry of a noble pile."

MUSEO CAPITOLINO THE STATUARY. 187

The apartment of the Dying Gladiator, which takes its
name from this celebrated statue, may be considered properly
a tribune, for every object in it is a chef-dCceuvre of art.
Here is a glorious Apollo, a beautiftil Antinous, a most
majestic Juno, Zbno, and die celebrated group of Cupid

AND PSTCHB.

Zeno. His knit and shaggy eyebrows express defiance of
the caprice and buffetings of fortune, with a total indifference
to the most despotic edicts of fate ; and, in perfect keeping
with such characteristics of the philosophy Zeno taught, the
statue exhibits a form made to endure. He looks the Stoic :
firm even to obstinacy ; obdurate even to unfeelingness.

Cupid and Psyche. Were limbs e'er before entwined
in such voluptuous coils? Here even priests stand and gaze !
It is not Cupid who embraces Psyche, but the wanton girl
herself, who, in pressing her lover's bosom to her own, seals
his lips with an eternal kiss, lest he should chide her fond-
ness too soon. This group is emblematical of the union of the
soul and body, and is not unfrequently seen on sarcophagi.

Apartment op the Faun. — The statue which designates
this room is of rosso antico ; and though undoubtedly very
fine, it did not strike me so much as the one to be seen in the
Vatican, perhaps from its being a second impression. Yet
its general contour seemed harsher, its form not so perfect,
and its expression less characteristic ; but the marble is in
finer preser\'ation.

The Saloon. — Observe a bronze Hercules, the only
bronze statue yet found, on which the ancient gilding is so
perfect. He holds his club in one hand, and the apples from
the garden of the Hesperides in the other. His position is
that of the most graceful ease ; the proportions are heroic,
and display, in full perfection, manhood in all its athletic
vigour.

Two statues of Centaurs, in iiero antico. Both are ex-
tremely fine, and being of coloured marble, the eyes are of
black and white, to impart the requisite animation : indeed,

188 MUSEO CAPITOLINO — THE STATUARY.

when they iEti*e so managed, they are more expressire even
than statues of common marble. In one of them an eye k
wanting, which accident giyes additional character to the
figure.

An Infant Hbbculbs in bronze, of colossal proportions.
This is a remarkably fine statue^ and shews the admirable
skill of the artist, in preserving perfect the proportions of
childhood on a scale so exceedingly difficult and unfen
Tourable.

A Vbnus. She stands in the same modest attitude as
the Tuscan Venus ; but, though fine, this statue has nothing
of the inconceivable delicacy of proportion and finish of that
of Florence.

Habpoorates, the God of Silence. The most remark-
able thing about this statue is the ear-trumpet which he holds
in his hand, as it shews that this aid to hearing was used by
the ancients.

Here, also, I could not help regarding the statue of Caius
Mariub as an old acquaintance ; and another to which, I
am afraid, I have been somewhat longer a stranger — that of
Innocbncb, Who, personated by a little girl, presses a dove
to her breast. Traveller ! are you a little girl ? If not, I
apprehend you likewise will not see here the exact portraiture
of your most intimate acquaintance.

The collection of busts in this Museum is invaluable.
Note a Homer, represented blind ; likewise Cato the censor :
stem inflexibility of resolve and purpose is in his features,
depicting the very beau-ideal of stoicism in its utmost rigidity;
also Plato, in whose countenance a species of divinity shines ;
and DiooENBS — but such a savage deserves to dwell only in
a tub.

In the Long Gallery, observe an Infant Hbbculbs
strangling two serpents, a portrait evidently of some child.
A Gladiator fighting, like Withrington in Chevy Chase,
on his stumps ; and a tine statue of a Female, numbered 24,
but very badly restored. Hence you enter

The Apartment of the Vase. — The elegant vessel, which

THE FORUM — ANTIQUE RUINS. 189

gives name to its habitat, was found near the tomb of Cecilia
Metella. Here you also see the Bronze Vase, which for-
merly belonged to Mithridates, king of Pontus; and the
well-known moecdc, in pietra duray which is mentioned in
Pliny, of four pigeons drinking out of a bowl. It was found
m Hadrian's villa, at Tivoli.

The stranger naturally asks, as he stands on the Capitol,
Where are all those noble edifices — those temples of the Capi-
toline Jupiter? where the Flaminian Circus, the finest that
ever existed, which once adorned this place, not even a ruin
of which remains ? '

On the spot where formerly the Temple of Jupiter Fere-
trius stood, you now find the church called Ara Cceli. This
church is held in great veneration, from the circumstance of
an angel appearing to Gregory the Great when he founded
it ; and they still shew, as a proof of the fact, the impression
of two small feet on a stone, like those of an infant.

From the Capitol you descend by two ways to thb Cahpo
VACcmo, the ancient Forum Romanum ; and he that treads
it for the first time without feeling a desire to take off his
shoes, has no reverence for the memory of the mighty and
immortal great who figured on this eventful stage.

At the bottom of the hill you find the chapel of San
PiBTRO IN Cabcbrb, SO named from St. Peter having been
imprisoned here. There is a spring of water at the bottom
of it, which, they tell you, St. Peter caused to rise out of the
ground; and by this miracle he contrived to convert the
jailor and all his fellow-prisoners. It was anciently a prison,
built by Ancus Martius : the underground story was after-
wards added by Servius Tullius Hostilius. From the upper
part, which was called Robur, criminals were thrown ; and
hence this punishment was designated Pr<Bcipitatio de robore.

Enter now the Forum, and view the vestiges of miracles
of less pretending performance : those of the Temple of
Concord, of Jupiter Tonans and Jupiter Stator ; the Basilica
of Sempronius, now the church of St. Gregory in Velabro ;
the Triumphal Arch of Septimus Severus ; the Temple of

190 THE CQLOSSEUM — PALAZZO DORIA.

Festina and Augustus ; the Church ofSts. Cosmo and Damiah,
the bronze door of which was brought from Perugia by Pope
Adrian the First ; the magnificent ruins of the Temple of
Peace, built by Vespasian, after the taking and destruction
of Jerusalem; the Temples of the Sun and Moon ; the Triam-
phant Arch of Titus, with the admirable bas-reliefs under
the arcades, some of which represent the spoils brought from
Jerusalem, as the chandelier with seven branches, the two
tables of the law, vases, and other utensils, taken from
Solomon's Temple, brought by Vespasian to Rome, and
deposited by him in the Temple of Peace, as we learn from
St. Jerome. Next view the ruins on the M ons Palatinus ; and,
finally, thb Colobsbum. Thirty thousand workmen were
employed during eleven years in its construction ; first under
Vespasian, and afterwards under his son Titus. It is one
hundred and thirty paces long and eighty wide; and when
entire, it was capable of containing 190,000 spectators com*
modiously to see the games and spectacles. Dilapidated as
it is, it still is a noble ruin, surpassing in grandeur any that
exists. Among the foliage which- adorns its ruined arcades,
feathered songstera, in choirs, chant their little sonnets,
making those vaults and arches that formerly echoed back
only the roarings of wild beasts and the groans of the dying
gladiator, resound with notes of softest, sweetest cadence.
Visit it at all hours, by noontide or moonlight, its fitscinating
effect is the same ; and the oflener you go, the more charmed
you become, by the crowd of recollections and reflections it
excites. Behind the Colosseum are the ruins of the Baths
of Titus.

Retrace now your steps by the Campo, and getting to the
Corso, there are some objects in this quarter that claim the
stranger's notice ; and first of the Palazzo Doria.

The following are some, among a multitude of other, fine
paintings contained in this palace, which admit of a succinct
description : —

The Death of Abel, by Salvator Rosa. Abel is down ;
Cain stands over his brother, and holding him by the hair of
tlie head, he kills him with the jaw-bone of a horse. The

DORIA PALXCE--THE PAINTINGS. 191

scene is laid in a landscape, canopied by a dark and angry
sky, as if the sun had veiled his face in clouds, not to view
the murderous deed ; whilst the light which illuminates the
picture proceeds from the fire of the altar to the left.

Hagab in the Desbrt, by Spagnoletto. Nothing could
be more finely conceived than the accompaniments of this
afiecting subject : the scene is bleak and dreary ; the colour-
ing dun and cold : a broken pitcher lies on the ground, to
typify the well of the living Grod ; the child Ishmael is seen
by its side, pallid, ghastly, and expiring, as if from thirst
and exhaustion ; while the angel of the Lord leads Hagar
away from a scene so horrid and appalling, to humble herself
before her mistress.

Time plucking Cu pid's Wings, by Albani. This gadster,
more fluttering and variable in his tastes than a butterfly,
well deserves to be punished ; but, good father Time, when
I shall give you the job, it must be only to clip, not pluck, his
pinions — pluck them entirely, so that he cannot flirt about
at all, and he will sometimes be in the way when he is not
desired. Cupid himself seems to think so; for the little
urchin looks pitiful and sad, as if afraid he was going to be
treated like a chicken — singed and roasted.

The Repose in Egypt, by Caravaggio. The subject is
singularly treated. Seated on the ground, the Virgin and
Child have fallen asleep to the music of an angel, who plays
on a violin : Joseph holds up the book, as if the seraphim
could not play but by note. You have a back view of the
angel, who, with expanded wings, appears more like a Cupid ;
only this little wretch's music are sobs and tears, which do
any thing but lull.

The Sacrifice of Abraham, by Titian. This painting
exhibits more expression than is usual with Titian. Isaac
lies on his back: you believe that you hear his cries, for,
stretching out his hands towards the angel, he calls aloud for
help, with the lusty sincerity of a boy, and the clamorous
fright of a female.

Belisarius, by Salvalor Rosa. The aged and unfor-
tunate hero leans on a staff which he holds in his right hand,

192 DORIA PALACE THE PAINTINGS.

and his left is soiriewhat extended — date ohohnn : he walk?
do\^n to the speotator. and with u]x*ast eyes he appears to
lament aloud his wretched condition. The scenery around is
rockv a!ul uncouth: tlie landscape develops no sunshine;
rocks and the sjdintered trunks of trees are the acconipani-
nitnts and enihhnis of his hard and broken fortunes.

In this select and invaluable collection you find many
other examples of the first artists. iSassuferrati's well-known
M V DONNA, so full of sweetness and beauty ; Claude's Molina,
so called from a mill beinir introduced — a waterfall occupies
the centre ; tigures dance in the foreground, and mountains,
recediiiii fri>m the eye in measured perspective, lose them-
selves in the mist of distance. Here, also, are two superior
Guercinos : the Martyrdom of St. Agnes, and St. John
IN THE Wilderness gettinu* water at a spring.

C)n the ojiposite side of the Corso, and not far from the
Doria, the Sciakra Palace is situated. This also is re-
markaVile for its tine collection of paintings. Among many
others, observe a splendid copy of Raphael's Transfigu-
KATiON, bv Giulio Ixomano.

AbrauamV Sacrifice, by Delia Xotte. This is a frightful
representation of the patriarch's obedience. Abraham's hand
presses the throat of his devoted son, whose countenance
depicts the struggling, clioking u'asp of strangulation.

(Iamblers cheating a Johnny, by Caravagi>;io. Two
youths are seated at play : one evinces in his countenance all
tlie rawness of unsuspicious simplicity ; the other, though
ecpuilly young, the keenness of thoroughly initiated knavery.
A third, the finished ade{)t, and the confederate of the young
aspirant for the gallows, is looking over the hand of the
novice, and telegraphs to his apprentice what he is to do.
Villanv is leiriblv eiifxraved on the features of both; and the
painter has a))ly exemplified the traits which characterise the
progressive grades of de])ravity.

Two Magdalens, by (hiido. The finer of the two is a
copy of the other, distinguished by a dress of a purplish hue,
with some radishes by her side : hence its designation '^ (die
ntdia'.^' As a painting it is deservedly esteemed a c//c/-

TRAJAN AND ANTONINE's COLUMNS. 193

(Tceuvrey possessing all the soft peDcilling of the artist, and
penitence of the sweetest, most contrite cast.

There are many others in this collection of no less merit.
A portrait of Raphael, by himself; his mistress Fornarina,
by Giulio Romano; Titian's Mistress, by himself, which
well may vie with the Fomarina in loveliness and beauty ;
Moses, by Guido, in his first manner ; Modesty and Vanity,
by Da Vinci, represented by two females of fascinating grace ;
but there is magic in the eye and smile of all Leonardo's
females.

Behind this palace you find the Church of the San-
TTSsiMi Apostoli, in the piazza of the same name. Under the
vestibule to the left of the porch, observe, before entering the
church, a monument erected and executed by Canova to his
friend Valpato. But what makes this church chiefly an
object of the stranger's regard are the Frescos by Odazzi,
which adorn the ceiling of the tribune. The subject repre-
sents the rebel angels driven from heaven. Remark the
foreshortenings of the figures, which are so extraordinarily
fine : the very prominent relief given to them is so real,
indeed, that while you regard them, a sense of dread creeps
over you lest they should fall upon you. Here also is the
tomb of Pope Clement XIV., ornamented with statues of
Meekness and Temperance, by Canova. The painting over
the grand dtar is by Muratori, and exhibits skilful com-
position. •

Hence let the stranger visit Trajan's Column, erected in
honour of his victories over the Parthians. ^ It is 140 feet in
height, and 192 steps lead to the top of it, where formerly
stood the urn placed here by the senate of Rome, and which
contained the ashes of the emperor. Getting to the Fountain
of the Treviy one of the most ancient in Rome, originally
constructed by Agrippa, as we learn from Suetonius, let the
stranger descend the Via de' Crociferi to view the Column op
Marcus Antoninus in the Piazza Colonna, facing the post-
office. It stands 161 feet in height: on it the military
exploits of this emperor against the Armenians, Parthians,
and Germans, are engraved. You ascend by 207 steps, which

101 THE PANTHEON' — ITS TOMKS.

coil round its interior, to the top, on which a bronze-irilt
statue of St. I^uil stJinds. A short distance from this yni
come to the Pantheon.

Tliis famous tenipU^ was huilt by Agrippa, who dedicated
it in })artieuhir i a-^ PHny tells ns) to Juj)iter the Avenirer.
Statues of tlie other deities encompassed their chief. The
li»'!L::ht of tliis noble edifice is one hundred and forty -four
ftM't, its width the same, and the thickness of its walls i«
eighteen feet. Its dome is justly estecaned a pi*odi<2"y of art.
Jn front there is a muij:niticent vestibule, supported by tliirteen
colunms of tiranite of prodigious height and size, beiuL: ^i\
feet in dianu'ter, and tifty-three hiu:h. Ihit the nobh^ness of
the effect nni^t, in the present day, be considerably dimini.^hed
from the elevation of tlie surroundintr c^round. Formerly a
fliillit of ste])s led up to tlie vestibule ; now you must descend
in Older to enter it. The Pantheon of the ancient pagans has
])een consecrated to tlu^ Virgin by modern polytheism ; perhaps
it would have been moie in keeping with its original appro-
priation to have dedicated it to ^* Ognisanti." This temple
is the most ])erfect of all the antique remains in Rome, and
derives additional attraction from the ashes of the celebrated
men it enshrines — the urn, as it were, of the dead more im-
mortal tluin itself. Raphael, the modern Apelles, lies here;
his pupil, Pierino del Vaga, and Hannil)al Caracci : here also
you hnd the i-emains of Zuccheri, ^'acca, and others. C)ver
\ acca's tomb you read :

I). O, M.

I T.AM INTO . VA( f A.

S( n PIOIM . IIOMAN.

<.>rf . IN . Onill lUS . ',»! AT . I H I I .

M sj^MAM . >jiu . sA 1 l>\ \A II.

(Jver Zuccheri 's :

M \(,N A . «jrop . IN" . ma(;ko . 1 nniT . n \imi \i i r . pi u \n»u f .
i\i>\ro . IN . MAGNo . ri.ijTiMi I r . (.HM mix.

Rajdiael's is on one side of the altar of the Virgin :

Ml I. . inc . l.sr , RAIMIALL . lIMCn . «»»l () . SO-^I'IIK . VINCI .
r. I lU M . M A(.N \ . FMRl N-^ . 11 . MUl'II N 1 I, . MOI'.I.

TOPOGRAPHY OF ROME. 195

On the other side you read :

D. O. U.

■AVHIBAL . CARACCIUS . BOVONIBNSIS .

BIC . £aT .

RAFBAELE . SANCTIO . URBlVATt .

UT . ARTE . INGENIO . FAMA . SIC . TUMULO . PROXIMUS .

PAR . UTRIQUE . FUNUS . ET . GLORIA .

DISPAR . FORTUNA .

ECQUAV . Vf RTVTI . RAPBAEL . TULIT .

BANVXBAL . INIQUAM .

OECESSIT . DIE . XV. JULII . AK. 1619 . AET. XXXXIX.

CAROLl'S . MARATTUS . SVMUI . FICTORIS .

VOMEN . ET . STUDIA . COLENS . P. AM. 1674.

Below :

ARTE . MEA . VIVIT . VATURA . ET . VIVIT . IN . ARTE .
MEU8 . DECUS . ET . CAETERA . MORTIS . ERAVT.

In one of the niches you see a fine antique statue of a
Vestal Virgin^ which has been baptised afresh, under the
name of St. Ann. She holds up her drapery with one hand,
and rests the other on the shoulder of a young girl with a
scroll in her hand. The drapery of the principal statue is
cast in a bold and graceful style, and the general idea of
this picture seems to have been adopted and copied by painters
as the model and pattern for Madomias and Matri Doloris
to crucifixions, and for St. Anns in compositions where it
was necessary for both the Virgin and her mother to be
introduced.

Whatever delight the visitor may take in viewing the
various objects I have attempted to describe, I yet feel con-
scious that their bare recital must have been as tedious for
the reader to peruse as it has been tiresome to the writer to
enumerate. Let us, then, quit the mouldy atmosphere and
mouldering ruins of former ages, and breathe a newer, if not
a more refreshing, air.

Walking on the Monte Pincio one day, I perceived thin
and variously composed strata of volcanic dust, developed by

19(3 <01RCF OF TIIK MALARIA.

tlie ]vartial c/ittins: away of the hill for the path which ranges
on its height : and on exaniiiiiiig it in different places, I
fou!.d it t«^ he eiitirelv furnieJ of a mound of the same
volcanic iiKitorial. It is o{ a l)lnisli colour, speckled with
\vbi:o STx.ts portVctly calcined, and possesses a strong attrac-
tion ibr Luinidirv. Some tliat I <j:ot several months a'j:o is
ovtn new more damp than when taken from the hill, thouirh
rt!\a:edlv dried by the -^nn a^ carried a])Out in my knapsack.
This proportv of tlie -^oil of Rome is, in my opinion, the chief
somve i<f tlie malaria, so fatal in its effects here at certain
St asvMi- of the year. Its line of distribution niarks the limit
oi its operation, and this circumstance will explain how one
>ide of a -treet -boiild l>e notoriou-^lv unhealthy, and the other
free o( anv noxious inlUience. The most heedless observer
nni^t frei[iuMuly liave witnessed how speedily tiie roads in the
neiubbourbood of Rome diy after even great torrents of rain.
He mistakes mucli if lie thinks this proceeds from evapora-
tion ; for tiie beat of the sim, even in the hottest sunuiier
months, could dissipate but little in so sliort a space of time:
it i> absorbed bv the tbirstv nature of the soil; and he may
convince himself of tlie fact, by remarking how permanently
moist this is all the vear round a few inches under the sur-
face. Heat and moi^ture, we all know, vivify and disen2:a<re
the fomitt\'5 of disease : no wonder, then, that these, acting on
the drbris of animal and veuetable matter in a state of deconi-
position, buried foi* a«j:es, and daily ^ainint:: fresh accumula-
tions, should uenerate pestilential etHuvia, and by contanii-
natiiiir the atmosphere of Rome during summer, produce
fevers of so fatal a type.

This pernicious condition of the soil is not confined to
Rome (^six out of seven of the hills on which it stands 1 ascer-
tained to be volcanic\ but extends as far as the deliquescent
earth (,its peculiar matrix) itself does ; and hence the un-
healihiness of the whole of the Campagna. Circumstances
certainly modify its degree of intensity ; but I think facts
will bear me out in circumscribing the sphere of the operation
of nndaria to the demarcation made l>y the line of its extent.

DISCOVERY OF A FOSSIL FOREST. 197

The Pontine Marshes^ again^ owe any peculiar unhealthine^
they possess to another kind of formation, of which I shall
speak hereafter.

The Tarpeian Rock is composed of volcanic dust consoli-
dated, forming a yariegated lithoidal tufa, enclosing mealy
leaciteSy scales of black and green augite, and, in some parts,
small portions of felspar ; and although abundantly absorbent
of moisture, it is less deliquescent and friable than that of the
Monte Pincio. The peculiar character of this yolcanic forma-
tion, it may be remarked, affords an infallible index of the
original depth of the foundations of ancient Rome, and there-
fore presents an exact guide to the antiquary io pursuing ex-
cavations in search of antique remains.

Facing the northern extremity of the Pincian Hill, on the
left of the new road near the Porta del Popolo, I was struck
accidentally one day with the singular appearance of the
ground ; and on approaching it, I was surprised to find it
formed of a pile of petrified matter, eighteen or twenty feet
in height by about forty in length, entirely composed, at the
lower part, of the petrified trunks of very large trees, lying
obliquely forward or outward ; above which the whole rock
consists of petrified branches and typolithic leaves, intermixed
in various places with volcanic sand and gravel. I made a
selection of specimens from each, several of which are very
beautiful.*

Some of the branches that were in contact with the vol-
canic matter have a torrefied appearance — the ligneous fibre is
entirely consumed, but its texture is perfectly preserved. My
surprise and joy at such a discovery, to which, I believe, I
may justly lay claim, was not lessened by finding this petrified

* A notice of this discovery, which has escaped ohsenration for so many
ages (for the catastrophe that caused it roust have happened prior to the
foundation of Rome itself), appeared in the Edinburgh New Philosophical
Journal for Jan. 1832, conducted by my respected and distinguished tutor,
Professor Jameson. In making the ancient Via Flaminia level, they had
cut away the flank of the hill ; and it is this section of it that forms great
part of the exposition now to be seen. Previous to this, the road had in
all probability led over its shoulder, as the high ground in some places must
have approached close to the banks of the Tiber.

IV> ri:niiFiED sibteruanean forest.

t'. Tr-t to ♦xtf. (I Up the yi'A Flaniinia toward? the Ponte
M<'l!t' — f-'r:i!i:>Lr. in tiict, the entire escarpment to the right
( f :\.r r»K{-l. li 'W hill iortv feet in thickness. Before irettinir
r • the ]'• i<L'».- it i'l-Linch^'S utf still more to the riL:;ht; and al>oiit
a uiiif jil)"\e it tli« iv is an interruption of this subterranean
f ';r<r, \\lh'r^' vuii pt iveive, under the petrifactions, the original
fi.jKf.'U'i toru.ation of the country, consisting; of cemented
Lfravel. -and. a'.id clav, l>rfore it was covered over hv the
v<']e:ni:e du^t nr^l the forest we have been describing:. A
ijiiarter of a mile higher up the Tiber, you come to a mineral
>prinj:. ha\inLr a suhaeid taste. It seems once to have been
fi» <^'i( nted f.r its u.edicinrd <jualities. The petrified forest
iiou cro>«-(.'- tlif Tiber, and you perceive detached parts of it
a-e»'iidinLr in the ilireetion of the stream. The question
natniallv aii-e- in the mind, uhat could have occasioned so
j-in-ular a catastrophe .' Is this the work of an earthquake,
wljen t]ii> part of the coiintrv was the scene of the volcanic
c()n\ ul>ion- wliieh so many contiguous appearances confirm .'
The cri-antie nature and extent of the phenomenon admit the
proljal'ility of tlie conjectui'e : the admixture of volcanic dust
anionLT the ti'unks and ).)i'anclR> of the forest, strengthens the
su})po>ition : the overthrown po>ition of the whole mass shews
that the event was sinuiltaneous : and the scorched impres-
sions on the j^etrifactions point out the agency of fire. The
p<'tj"itic matter is calcareous, but of a peculiar appearance,
diihrent from anv 1 ever saw : it is of a liirht brown colour,
and wvy ])ulverulent. The upper parts of the petrifactions
partake of the friabU' nature of the petrifacient ; Init as it gets
dee[)er, it hecomes nioie and more indurated bv the increase
of the superincum])('nt pi'i^^sure. The abrupt manner in whicli
this extensive bed of petrititd wood terminates, is not one of
its least singularities; and altoirether it is, perhaps, one of the
most anomalous circutnstances of the kind vet discovered.

The volcanic soil seems to lie bounded in the immediate
vicinity of Rome l)y the Tiber. Some of it may be seen
under the foundations of the bastion on which the Villa
( a\allieri stands, near the church of Saint Onofrio ; but the
whole of Monte Gianicolo, and the hills behind it, are of

GEOLOGY OF ROME MONTE MAREO. 199

aqueoos formation. This consists, first, of loose^ small, pebbly
grayel mixed with sand ; under this lies the same materials
cemented together, forming conglomerate ; thirdly, pure sand,
abounding in mica* of a silvery whiteness and splendour ;
and lastly, lias, enclosing marine organic remains. This last is
used in making a coarse sort of pottery, tiles, &c., and, when
mixed with pounded volcanic tufa and sand, in making
bricks.

In my excursions round the suburbs, chance led me to the
Monte Mareo. Here it was that the French took up their
position when they summoned Rome to surrender. The upper
part of this hill is wholly composed of a congeries of marine
organic remains ; of large ostracites firmly cemented together,
on forcibly separating which, you sometimes expose delicate
dendritic impr^ions — they are of the ostrea hippopus species.
Here, also, you find aggregations of dentalia, mactrse, and
pectines. Similar marine remains are found in the lias before
mentioned, together with tellinse lepantes, and remains of
plants of the fuci species, as observed by M. Von Buch. I
may here take occasion to remark, that this geologist has
mistaken the nature of the stone to be seen along the wall
between the Porta Santo Spirito and that of Santo Pancrazio :
he describes it as a peculiar sandstone ; whereas more careful
observation would have shewn it to be a matter compounded
of greenish gray volcanic dust indurated. I confess that I
also mistook it for a sandstone the first time I saw it, which
was on the rise about half a mile before arriving at the Ponte
MoUe.

The Church of St. Paul, outside the walls, before it was
burned down, was an object of the stranger's curiosity. A
silly belief is prevalent among the lower class of the Romans,
that it was set on fire by the English, in envy of its emulating
our own church of the same name.

* It was from the sparkling sand on it, that this part of the Janiculum ob-
tained its name of Mons Aureus ; of which Montorio, its modem appellation,
is a corruption.

- ' .f . . • \ :\ .\i?:a i..*^:'f are some ob"ects that

- • ' * • : _ < ^ :._: ^: ' V :L»:- V rta San Seha^tiaiio, v«ni

■ -" • ./..-'. .^1'.' : •• D'jMine. gio VADi> f This

'..•-■ . :> :..:::.e rVoin the tullowiiiix circuni-

r' - - . ..- .' .- ] -•'.'.> i: ^:. PcTcr, ht-iiii; obli«^od one tini»^

*-.::- : : :- - •'! :.:- V:i^, nit-t our Saviour un

" - r' ■ : . • ..-. ::. ::?-!. ** D"iiiino, quo vadis T' —

-..-•' :. i. - '. T.' '"L!c':i Jtru> replic'I, '' To

■ - r :. -. :.. t 0':\"ti:" a.rer ^vhieh he disap-

« * ' ■.* :' '.. - :V.: iij» n a >r^>ne wliich is

- - . ■ .*.. : .. •..::.. -: '■ r:.^r..t:u:i in the church of

\ •■.: : . •- ■ --;■'. r.r::»c r.t tje churcli of the mar-

-":.'. • .. V "..^r- :"..>' f-f' Ttrraiiious trrottos exist,

X . . : . : • : L.-. ( A7ACL'^IB^. It waji in these that

" ■ y . -:.-• - ' •-•. .••/.N r.---!i.r.t-d tn p.'rfonn exercise?

• ^ •- • . .; " . - !:-: v. ri i. aitd tlie «)ldiei*s nias-

- ....:..'»'.::. 'A..'.:. :!rL i i.:':rie slau^htt^r, thev roHed

- - . > '. • :'.' :... :^ k^X the cavern, and shut
. '" - V, .. •_ :" - V \t:o !• wt-arv tu ?lav. Some

;- . \ .» .. /> :' > >■ : .!.'!. :c vi the livinu: was dis-

.-.•.. .• . '.. > . .\ i '. >: /;:. 1 ''»;jt"= that were collected

V, . . . : - :: ?• •-..'. :s ::\a5ure*. Under the altar

. .H . . ..«.\ : ^: S- ". ..r*:..:. : a:.d Ltiv. also, is a well of

\\ '.. > \ ' -.v-. :" . \. :..;'.:._■ c nctakd l^r more than two

" .\i . "..i -.'v Nt..:^i :". : '— .liis of ^t. Ptit-r and St. Paul,

\. ^\ :> V ;; .\ v\ : .: .:":*.:- c.:^'u:.;-:a:.cr iliat the Pope accorded

'..^ .! r v' : \-.: :"\ -.-r.u- r:^:'.v_ts as those of St. Peter's.

i.v'v ^ .\r. t\vt'.\:: >:..::< ^ f :!.o MAKTVin)v)M or Sr. Se-

vv^-. .IN ::; !!v.> c'::v\:, a'ul !:'.vin:-e some :;ood paintinLTS

r'\\\*\;;r^ or.^^.1:\i. \ lui cmio to the C'iK( i s of (\vi?a-
. V \ V, /.".vi ::u^ Tv^n::; or C'ri ii i v Mr.rr.i.i.A, the dauL:htt>r of
r-.;vH;;> \\w latuv > i^t' a circiilar torm, ^upported on a
^,- -.-x- I'iN.nu-:)!. :uid \\w wall> are i\mIm' ordinary pacc^
•/ AS '.!\'vr a:e c»M>trucail vf la\a and volcanic m(»rtar,
/.'■.' \\ ^\:'\Uk'\\ a toanJat'oii of p. ii-o>:lit-it»ns la\ a, containiuLC
i>\vM*.'>t\{ u-::v'::i> I'e-^looii- of finit and lea\es, linked

VILLA BOROHESE ANCIENT ROME. 201

together by oz-skullSy surround the cornice^ under which
you read : —

CAECILAE .

Q . CRETICI . F .

METELLAE . CRASSI .

Volcanic mortar was very commonly used by the ancient
Romans in their buildings, and consists of pounded volcanic
cinders mixed with lime. The former ingredient seems also
to have been used in brickmaking : it is for the most part of
a reddish colour ; and I suspect that in those bricks that are
so particularly fine, the materials were first carefully sifted.

The stranger ought not to leave Rome before visiting the
Villa Borghese, which is outside of the walls beyond the
Monte Pincio. Columns, pilasters, yases, and statues, in
marble, bronze, and porphyry, enrich its splendid interior.
This Villa formerly possessed the celebrated Fighting Gla-
diator, which is now in the Louvre in Paris. It was given
as a present by the truly princely Borghese to Bonaparte.
Two groups in statuary, still here, are particularly striking :
CuRTius LEAPING INTO THE GvLF, in the Forum ; and
Apollo pursuing Daphne. In the first, you perceive the
fright of the horse, unwilling to leap, though urged on by
his rider. Curtius, on the contrary, delivers himself up to
certain death, with the unhesitating eagerness of a martyr.
The contrast is admirable between the unwilling obedience
of the horse, which reluctantly yields, and the exalted senti-
ment of the patriot, which triumphs in its devotedness.

In the odier, Daphne's hair is being metamorphosed into
leaves, her delicate feet into roots, her fair bosom seeks
shelter under a covering of bark, and young branches shoot
forth in the place of her arms. Apollo is close behind, with
arms outstretched to seize her. You think you hear his
prayer — ** Daphne! fly not along that flinty path ! Ah, fly
slower, cruel that thou art, and I will pursue thee less
quickly ! "

Rome, in the time of Romulus, was confiued, as all know,
to the Palatine and Capitoline hills : it had three gates only,
the Trigonia, Pandana, and Carmenta ; but as Rome ad-

202 PAPAL DESPOTISM — MODE OF EXECLTION.

vaineil in power find greatness, it at last so increased in s'.ze,
that its circuit became a space of fitty miles. Tliirteen now
f rm the extent of its circumference, which incUules spiicious
• ':tr«l»^ii- nn<l vinevard- : and there are other (luarters entirelv
r.». -' ::l1. C'jver* d «'iiiv with tlie ruins of its former irrandeur.
M:. vi,.\yii._- the-i', how lorcil»ly the lines of the poet recur

'* Colos>.'il liomt !

II«)\N i>* \\\\ livlni* t cleU. lliy banner low —
A>'u«^ .\: v". v:..Nt .r.o all ihy ulory now!
N\ . . . V- .■ . .\ \\.ivk, a liost of inohk> and ^la\^.•->
Tv . V ... " ^, . "v / >..>':ioiiial)!e L.Ta\c<.

• »•

I ,". iulhian capi;;/.-. v :..v>. tV-merly stood proud and liiirh in

.. -. vou now tread nvaic r t.v^i : and the sculptured acanthus

_ t' :> now faniiharlv tir/»:.iood hv the meanest vecretahle

; ". e Pope, as uullmiiid head c>f hoth cliurch and state,

. •. :o<t despotic of all ih>nvUs. ^ince his will is sanctioned

/_\ed tlirouu'h fear of hoth the devil and the hantrmun.

V et" his edicts are perteoily a^loutiding for their very

' v; .\ > sake. I rememher >eeinLr one that was issued

., ::ie handitti of the mountains, in which punishment

. . .^-.uued not merely against the princi[)al, hut it ranii-

.:;iv» the third degree of his consanguinity — people

^ "vw^ihlv, miLilit he luM-fectlv hlauieless and inno-

'-.v\le o\* intlicling death is sometimes not less

. e. 'CNoliiiig. ^Vhile I was in Rome, a man

• sfippJic'nttii in the Piazza del Popolo, the

X \exMiiions. The criminal had murdered a

» .-' •. '.e iu'ad with a hammer, and he suffered

V, .Muu'r — tlu^ executioner striking him on

/\ PHMitham's proposal of the mode of

.. \\\c natun* of the crime, is here more

. V-. it i> in actual operation.

^ , V.;' eluiir is vacant, and money coined

A- Iv ctnisidered a sort of pasquinade

■'•eti struck — they place a cap of

. ^. Peler. To the existini;' state of

CHARACTER OP THE ROMANS — CLIMATE OF ROME. 203

thingSy I have reason to beliere, erery sensible Roman feels
any thing but attachment : the people openly regret the fate
ef Bonaparte, who, enemy as he was to erery other country
in Enrope, must be allowed to have been Italy's very best
friend ; and a Roman was never more flattered than by
telling him you thought II Picolo (the name they gave the
young Napolecm) would one day be again their king.

With regard to the private character of the Romans, I
cannot, as &r as my own experience and observation go,
speak too highly. They are a polished and very friendly
people, though seemingly somewhat reserved on first ac-
quaintance, from being more grave and sedate than the
French ; sensible of their present degraded state, and se-
cretly anxious for a change ; above many of the con-
temptible practices which debase the character of some other
nations that enjoy more liberal institutions; and if their
virtues are of a less prominent and exalted cast, so also are
their vices less mean and universal. The greater the re-
straints of despotism, the more it seems to diminish the
general extent of crime, whilst it aggravates its degree of
atrocity. Hence a Roman, when an abandoned character,
stops short at the commission of no crime, how flagitious
soever; and among the most prevalent, the disregard of
human life is conspicuous. I was credibly informed by one
of themselyes, that, on an average, there are about five
assassinations committed weekly in Rome ; but as no public
notice is given of the facts, a stranger may live long enough
in this city without hearing of them, unless by accident.
Jealousy is the most frequent cause for such sanguinary ven-
geance, and very oflen proceeding, I was informed, from
illicit intrigues.

The air of Rome is heavy and unwholesome, especially
for invalids requiring a strict regimen and great care ; and
perhaps it would be advisable, on more accounts than one,
to have r^ard to the ordonnances which the stranger will
read in the church of Minerva.

With regard to the fitness of the climate as a residence
for the pulmonary invalid, I cannot agree in those unqua-

204 LEAVE ROME FOR NAPLES.

lified commendations which some have bestowed opon it
The air, as I have said, is heavy and moist, and certainly
there are some whose lungs such a temperament of atmo-
sphere may suit ; but this I think is certain , that if it prove
not beneficial, the trial cannot be made with impunity ; and
no physician, if honest in his opinion, can say, a priori^
whether it will prove so or not. In spring, again, and even
hi summer, a cold wind blows at times from the Apennines,
which suddenly chills the air. This is an observation of
Pliny's. My conviction is, that many a consumptive patient,
who might have leisurely walked to the grave elsewhere,
gallops to his goal at Rome : his languor increases under the
depressing influence of so moist and relaxing an atmosphere ;
his nocturnal perspirations become more profuse and colli-
quative, his expectoration more exhaustingly copious; a
quickened circulation fans the inflammatory combustion, and
a keener hectic feeds on the vital principle until it is con*
sumed, when death, closing the scene, bears away the last
sigh, fraught with regret for having ever left home.

Beginning to experience, in my own person, the influ-
ence of such an atmosphere, or thinking so at least, I felt,
or thought I felt, a sense of languor stealing over my general
feelings, with symptoms of a stagnant liver. To dissipate
bile or ennui, I was now therefore anxious to leave Rome
for Naples, deferring my visit to Tivoli until my return ; so,
on the third of April, I again threw my knapsack on my
shoulders, and quitted Rome by the Porta San Giovanni.
Once more I turned to contemplate Rome's ruined temples
and fallen grandeur; and, as I marched onward, I felt the
like reluctance in leaving '^ the city of the soul," as we may
suppose an ancient miles to have done as he marched forth
to join the camp of the legions on the frozen banks of the
Upper Danube.' How different, again, from this, must have
been the emotion of the wearied, wayworn pilgrim, as he left
behind him the shrines of the holy apostles, the saints, and
martyrs of his faith, towards whose sacred tombs he had bent
his way from the remote regions of the West ! My own
feelings, ijt is true, were of a difiercnt cast — less scmctified.

LAKE OF CASTEL-GONDOLFO — tHE EMISSARIO. 205

more heretically imbued — contemplative^ and somewhat phi*
losophically disposed, yet obtuse, dull, and heavy withal.
The day was hot and sultry ; and before I got to Castel-Gon-
dolfo, I felt so irresistibly drowsy, that I was forced to turn
a little aside from the road, and fell asleep on the grass.
This sensation is said to be more particularly felt on crossing
the Pontine Marshes ; but as travellers usually post to Naples^
I am inclined to think that this impression is made by passing
through the heavy air of the volcanic country between Rome
and Cisterna, which the uninteresting flatness of the Marshes
that succeed tends only the more to encourage.

Before attaining the height on which Albano stands, I
turned off to the left by Castel-Gondolfo, to visit the beautiful
Lake of Albano, as it is called by English travellers, but
more properly named by the people in its neighbourhood after
the town situated on its borders. This lake fills the bottom
of the crater of an extinct volcano, the brim of which rises
between 300 and 400 feet above the level of the water. It
forms a circular sheet, about half a mile in diameter, to
which you descend by a winding path. In the descent I
observed large masses of black mica embedded in volcanic
clay ; indeed, mica seems to characterise the erupted matter
of this spot, for I found it forming the soil on beginning to
ascend the high ground which l^ads to Albano. The margin
of the lake is strewed with sand of a very peculiar character,
formed of comminuted mica, whose black shining particles
sparkle on the beach. Turning to the right, by the side of
the lake, you pass the ruins of the Baths of Diana, and a
little farther on you come to the Emissario. This last is
thought to have been begun by Appius Claudius, to drain off
the water ; yet, as the authority for this conjecture is very
uncertain, perhaps I may be permitted to suggest that it may
have been undertaken to supply water to the aqueducts : but
whatever may have been the end proposed, it seems never
to have been completed. On viewing this peaceful lake,
. standing as you know you do, in the crater of what was once
a volcano, strange feelings and reflections steal on the mind :
to behold little punts plying on its tranquil bosom^ or lying

20G AN ANCIENT VILLA LARICIA GENSANO.

idle on its shores ; to see trardens on its borders, and flowers
in tVu^rant ])loonj ; fruitful vines |:ri*owing on its banks, and
birds carolliuLC their softest notes — how stronii:lv the contrast
Hashes on tlie mind between scenes so peaceful and sweet,
and the clamorous convulsive throes of a living parturient
volcano !

I now retm'ncd to the town : but findinsr nothirio^ in
the church to detain my attention, and being hungry, I
entered a wretclied osteria near the Piazza. A bottle of wine
and some liard-boiled eairs were all 1 could ^et. Chattinir
with llie pach'one, as I sat eating my eggs, of the lake and of
the I'uins bv ils side, he accidentally mentioned some that he
had discoverc d in a vinevard of his whicli was situated on
the inner ediie of tlie crater. It was about half a mile from
the town, to the left of the circular basin, and thither we went
together. The ruins already excavated consist of the base-
merits of seveial apartments, one of which is ornamented
with the most l)eautiful mosaic pavement I liad ever seen.*
In another part of the vineyard 1 found the remains of a
tomb, with three niches for sepulcliral urns ; but could learn
notliiui'- of mine host of what had become of them. The
richness of the ])avement shews that this must have been the
villa of some Roman of conse([uence : Pompey, we know,
had a villa here ; can these ])e the ruins of it ? Is that the
very vault which contained his ashes I We know that the
urn which held them was brought by his last wife, Cornelia,
into Italy, and deposited in a tomb at his Alban villa. The
mind, in the desire, is inclined, to believe it. Bidding addio
to my friend Galli, the name of the padrone, I s^ot to Albano
by a delightful road wliich led through an avenue of ilexes.
At each extremity of Albano there is a ruin : the one you see
before enterhig the town is said to be the Tomb of Asca-
Mi's, the otlier, that of the Moratii and Ciriatii.

A short mile from Albano brinirs you to Laricia. Colu-
niella calls this town ^^ the Mother of Onions." In the churcli
you see an altar-piece* by Borgognone ; it is an As.svmp-

TION OF THE VlKGIN. Fiom tllCUCe tO (iKNSANO, thougll

Xonf T alierwards <;i\v at l'(>in])rii rould c(>m]>ar(> \Tith it.

LAKE OF NEMI — VELETRI. 207

only two inileSy the road is hilly, and the soil entirely yolcanic.
The whole territory of this neighbourhood was dedicated to
Diana ; and hence the ancient name of Gensano was Cinthi-
annm. From Gensano the eye commands a view of the scene
of the last six books of the JEueid. Here I slept the night in
a private honse. Behind the town of Gensano lies the Lake
OF Nemi, so called from the ancient nemus or grove of the
Tauric Diana, and which a villi^e built on its opposite bank
still retains. The lake of Nemi marks out the site of another
extinct volcano, and is the ancient ** Speculum Diatus ;" but
is neither so large nor so beautiful as that of Castel-Gondolfo.
In the time of the Emperor Claudius it was used as a
naomachia, and its shelving banks furnished a seat for the
assembled multitudes to view the exhibition of the naval
fights.

This lake, like every other similarly situated, was formed
at the extinction of the volcano, and long before the imme-
diate neighbourhood could possibly be habitable: the tradition,
therefore, that the ruins of ancient Alba Longa are still to be
seen at its bottom when the water is calm and clear, must
be regarded as a vulgar error.

On the thither edge of the crater, beyond Nemi, you see
Monte Cavo, a mountain of a conical figure, evidently formed
by showers of dust and ashes ; and its height gives some
criterion by which we can judge of that of the volcano from
whence they were ejected before it became exhausted of its
combustibles, and ftiUing in on all sides, suffocated itself in
its own rains.

It b eight miles hence to Veletri, an ancient town of the
Volei, tmd the birth-fJace of Augustus. You continue to
descend for the greater part of the way, until you approach
the town, and at different parts of the route you have occa-
sional prospects of the sea, distant about fifteen miles.

Vblethi is usually described as standing on extinct vol-
canoes, but the high ground on which it is situated is, in fact,
a mount formed by a shower of ashes thrown out from some
of the volcanoes to the westward. The consolidated dust
found in this neighbourhood is beautifully variegated ia

208 ( isti:r\a — tor-tri:ponti.

cohnir, and has ninch h^ss of mica niixod with it than tliat
al;out All)aiio. Behind Vcletri there is a loffv ran<re of
lUMiiilaiii^, v» liich I could not ^is'.t. Stoppin^j: to rest and
ri IVo.-h n)\^elf, I was aiiaiii hvSit I'V insuperable drowsiness.
The rv)oin of tlic inu at wliich 1 j)ut iq) was j lastered with
a conip()>ition of liujc and volcMnio matter, too attractive of
damp to i)e j)apcrcJ, and tlicrefoi'e painted in fresco. I
could not re-ist faUinij; asleep, and awoke (piite chilled ; so,
rul)]Mn;j: olf the somnifiM'ous malaiMa fi'oni my brow, 1 now
descended into the plain, leavinij^ the volcanic soil about a
mile and a half l)i'rore ti'ettini;' to (.'istekna. Haifa mile on
the hither >ide of Tou-thki'Omi the Pontine IMarshes be^rin ;
and you have the circumstance amiounced by heralds in
character, and nmsic iu keejjing, with the nature of the
scenei'v ; for laii;e ui^lv lizards ci'awl about in multitudes,
and froL^s croak around you on all sides. Here I slept, and
had little reason to be sati^i^ed with either my fare or the
chariic ; the [)eople secmin;^ resolved to indemnify themselves
for tlie sjicritice they make of their comforts for the accom-
modation of othei's. I had eels served up for supper — and
I thought of their diet ; for thouj;"h my appetite cnivvd for
ibod, 1 had no notion of its croahuKj after it; a fowl so lean
that it mi<xht have passed for a lizard metamorphosed ; and
water to drink that i>milt of corruption ; for the fact was, that
J could t.dstc of nothing- they offered me, however obligatory
it became to j)ay for it. The church stands close by tlie inn,
on the front of which you still can read, " Opt, Deo Max.;'
but it is now abandoned for sacred uses, and has literally
become a den of thieves. A few antique remains, dug up
on the Appian Way when lately repaired, lay strewed in front
of the porch, on which there are inscriptions : on one :

IMP . M.ilVA . (ArSAIl . \VC. .

PON 11 H:X . M AXIMl> . I Kim N II lAE .

POI EMATIS .COS . Ill . PATLR .

PAIIUAE. I ACrr.NDAM . CUUAVIT . XIV.

Another :

N . FLAVIO . VAI.LIUO . ( ON>. . ANTO-
MNO . PIO . 11 LH I . INVK 10 . AIG .

nivi . toNS ri . Pii . 1 1 MO.

■».

PONTINE MARSHES — THEIR NATURE. 209

Next morning I started by daylight, knowing that I had
a long day's march to perform ere I could get to Terracina.
I saw nothing at For-Appia to establish its former ^' local
habitation/' save its present name and a solitary mile-stone,
on which, if I forget not, I read the name of the Emperor
Nerva.

The volume of water which escapes from under the lime-
stone mountains of the Apennines is truly astonishing. The
principal drains run on each side of the road^ and more re-
semble wide canals than drains in the ordinary acceptation
of the word. They are so well levelled that the stream of water
cannot stagnate, but runs freely away. With the object of
ascertaining the nature of the soil of these celebrated marshes,
I made excursions to the right and left of the road, where the
water allowed me ; and the result of my observations sur-
prised me a good deal. The soil in most places is exceed-
ingly superficial, often not deeper than two or three inches ;
and below this there is a foundation of solid stone. This last
is a calcareous deposition from the waters flowing from under
the mountains, and is precisely similar to the travertine
found and formed in the neighbourhood of Tivoli. This
sediment encases, and, in time, petrifies, the reeds and other
tubular vegetables that grow in the soil, thus forming con-
geries of interrupted conduits for the lodgement of water.
It is to this peculiarity of formation that the miasmata of the
Pontine Marshes, in great part, owe their origin ; but while .
there is no denying its pernicious influence to a certain extent,
the d^ree of alarm this excites appears to me one of those
common errors perpetuated by idle repetition, unconfirmed by
personal investigatiou, and unreasonably exaggerated by the
fears of the pusillanimous. In my way I passed above forty
labourers at work, widening one of the drains ; and, as far as
I could judge by appearances^ they all seemed robust and
healthy, working with vigour under a scorching sun, and
half up to their knees in water. Habit, it is true, is Nature's
lieutenant, and we see elsewhere indigense thrive in a climate
which is almost certainly fiettal to a stranger not inured to
it. Late in the evening I arrived at Terracina, where a com-

p

210 TERRA€INAr-THE CATHEDRAL.

fortable bed and supper wore off the fisitigue of the preceding
day's march.

TERRACINA.

Terracina is situated, as the reader, I dare-say, already
knows, at the extremity of the Pontine Marshes, and above
the road, the principal inn being in the suburbs. It is
a miserable town enough, and remarkable only for its Caths>
DRAL. Undei* the vestibule you see an antique font — for eo
I take it to be; from the lions head there is upon it — ^through
the mouth of which water evidently had spouted ; though
it is commonly described in guide-books as a sarcophagous :
it is of red granite, and on the pedestal you read : —

VASO . IN . CUI . DA . OENTILI .

FURONO . TORMENTATI . E . SCANNATI .

MOLTI . CRTSttANI .

INNANZI . jJ IDOLO . DI . APOLLO .

CONSTAT. . ISTOR. . DI . TERRAC •

POI . COLLOCATI . DA . FIOELI .

IN . quest' . ATRIO .

AD . USD . DI . FONTE . PAR . LAVARSI .

E . MANX . E . VOLTO . PRIMO . d'eNTRARE . IN . CHIESA .

8 . PAOLfN. . EPIST. . XII. . A . 8EVERO .

The pavement of the interior is of beautiful mosaic, com*
posed of verd antique and porphyry. The pulpit is curiously
inlaid, as well as a spiral column by its side, serving as a
candelabrum. The baldacchiuo is supported by four hand-
some fluted pillars of the composite order ; and there is an
antique pontifical chair in the tribune. The ancient town —
scopulosi verticis Anxur — stood more on the height above,
but had taken the name of Terracina even in Tbeodoric's
time, as appears from a slab with an inscription upon it, too
long to copy, to be seen near the Duomo. On the very sum-
mit stand the ruins of Theodobio's Paxaob, as it is thought ;
but the style of architecture appears to me to be too good for
those early Gothic days. The stranger is amply repaid for
the little toil he undergoes in getting to the top, by the mag^

TORRE DE' COKFINI — FONDL 211

nificeDt view which it commands. At your feet you see the
outline of the ancient port of Antium, repaired by Anto*
maoB Pins ; it is now occupied by gardens, but its original
fiMtn and entrance are distinctly perceptible. To the right
lies Monte CirceUo, famous in song as the spot where the
mermaid Circe decoyed the companions of Ulysses, and
turned them into swine; and nearer still, Capo d'Antium:
in front, the volcanic isle of Ponza, anciently Pontia, little
notioed under the rq>ublic, but ennobled under the Csesars,
fay the exile and death of seversi illustrious victims of im-
perial tjrranny ; and to the south-east, the splendid bay of
Naples, partly concealing its bosom from the outstretched
gaze of curiosity by the veil of the Volcian mountains that
intervene in the distance.

As you leave Terracina you pass a singular projection of
rock, called Pisca Marina^ a hundred and twenty feet high,
with a house clinging to its side about one-third of the way
up, and from its situation more like a swallow's nest than a
human habitation. The road now winds at the foot of the
mountains, and about three miles from Terracina you come
to the Lake of Fondij noted for the largeness of the eels it
contains. Here the limestone rock becomes so regularly
stratified, and so disposed, as to appear like the seats of an
andflnt theatre. At Torbb de' Confini the passports and
baggage are examined. A square building marks the limits
of the ecclesiastical and Neapolitan states, on which you
read: —

HOSPES . BIC . SUNT . FINES . BEGNI . MEAP .
SI . AMICUS . AOVENIS .
PACCATA . OMNIA . ADVENIES .
ET . MALIS . MORIBUS . PULSIS . BONAS . LEGES .

FONDI.

The miles now lengthen considerably ; yet I got to Fondi
sufficiently early, where 1 halted for the night. This town
is little known to travellers in general ; for, being notorious
as die abode of desperate characters, on account of its con-

212 C'YCLOPIAN WALLS — THOMAS AQUINAS — CHURCHES.

venient proximity to the confines of two states — thereby
affording Aicilities of escape — people are glad to pass it and
Itri (the next town) as fast as post-horses can carry them.
However this may be, I, for my part, met with nothing but
extraordinary civility. Fondi is a small, dirty, and wretched
town, but situated in a plain exceedingly rich and fertile,
though obnoxious to malignant fevers of a remittent type
during the warm months, from its vicinity to the lake and
the marshv srround between it and the sea. It is an enclosed
town, and you see part of*the ancient Cyclopia n Walls to
the right as you enter it. Passing the gate, obsei've a stone
to the left, on which you see engraved : —

10 . EJUS . AIIBITEU .
AMIPATIII .

Fondi prides itself as having been the favourite residence of
Tiiomas Acpiinas ; but the Convent in which he lived is in
a very dilapidated state, since its occupation by the French
soldiers. The school in which St. Thomas tauorht is now a
stable : next to this is the saint's chapel, which formerly
contained his l)ody. They likewise shew St. Thomas's bed-
cham])er, and the orange-tree he planted : the tree is appa-
rently very old, and so it ought to he, if it can say, like the
black bear in Piccadilly, ** I am tffe original* — for St. Thomas
died in the year 1274. 1 ate of its fruit, through the kind
politeness of my host, who had accompanied me. Near the
orange-tree is the well of which he drank, which is lield in
such high veneration and estimation, that its w^aters are only
given to the sick in ('jfrenns as a specific.

The hody of St. Tlionias was sold })y one Count Gaetano
to tlie cathedral of Toulouse, in France, where it is still pre-
served. Struck with remorse at the sacrilegious deed, and
anxious to atone for his conduct, the Count, after the manner
of Judas and the i)otter's field, built the four churches which
are in Fondi with the price of his profanation. In the Church
OF THE Annunziata, HOW shut up, there is a rude and ancient
fresco, painted to commemorate the sacking of the town by
Barbarossa, the pirate. The Dfomo contains a painting of

SUBTERRANEOUS PASSAGE — VARRO*S VILLA. 213

the Annumciatioh, by Christoforo Saccho, and the Tomb of
Count Gaetano. Over the porch of the church of Santa
Maria, the same count is represented, in rude sculpture,
kneeling before the blessed Virgin, praying for mediation
and forgiveness. Within, are two paintings on panel of con-
siderable merit, representing her Death and Assumption.

A short mile out of Fondi, there is a singular Subter-
raneous Passage, which b^ns at a platform occupying the
flank of the high ground, where the ruins of a monastery
stand. The foundations of the platform are built in pietra
secca, of very large stones, and evidently contemporaneous
with the vaulted passage. This singular grotto, as it is called,
extends, they say, for three miles under ground, having
spiraculi, or openings, at certain distances to admit fresh air.
Immediately below the platform, and close to the road, you
see a considerable part of a wall which enclosed the Villa of
Cicero's friend, Varro. The wall is built of small diamond-
shaped stones, which had bronze letters let and fixed into it,
that were, not long since, melted down for the sake of the
metal ; but the places they occupied are still conspicuous, and
being repaired with a material different from the wall itself,
you can readily make out

V. VABRONIANA.

The spring which had supplied the villa with water still
runs, and waters the garden into which the grounds are now
converted.

My host, who had obligingly accompanied me throughout,
now took me to a garden that belonged to his wife's brother,
also bearing indications of its having been the site of a Roman
villa: he gave the appropriation to Vitruvius Vacco, — why,
I now forget. It is delightfully situated under the neigh-
bouring hills, and also supplied with a spring of limpid water.
A curious circumstance attached to this place is, that the pro-
prietor dug up a statue, and has re-interred it, — apprehensive,
perhaps, lest it should be taken from him. I saw a portion
of it, which he uncovered, but too small to allow me to Judge
of its worth or merit I believe the man would have parted

214 ITRI — CICBRO'S CENOTAPH A NONPLUS.

with it; but a full-size statue was somewhat too lai^ a mine-
ralogical specimen to pack conyeniently in my knapsack.

When Barbarossa surprised the town, he attempted to
seize and run off with a princess of the house of Gronzaga,
then at Fondi. She, being advised of his intentions, escaped in
her chemise, aided by a gentleman; when, ashamed after-
wards of haying been seen in such a state, the ungrateful fair
had her liberator poniarded. The palace where this event
took place stands close to the gate nearest to Naples; and
they still shew the window by which the lady effected her
escape. In addition to the other gratifications afforded me
by my obliging host, I ought to mention that he spoke very
pure Italian, and furnished me with excellent wine : of the
edibles, the less, perhaps, said the better.

Three miles from Fondi, you come to a small fort erected
on the ruins of some ancient edifice, shewn by walls of dia-
mond-shaped stones : they are of limestone cut in this feshioo.
It is here that the subterraneous passage is said to terminate.
I again came in contact with it on the left of the road, at some
distance from Fondi, exposed in its track by a part of the
vault having fallen in. Although it is impoeeiUe to coi^
jecture, from the few co-existing circumstances that remain,
for what object this passage had been constructed, communi-
cation between the two extremities must have been one of the
purposes. The road now begins to ascend the hills — the
Farmicini ColleSy ramifications of Mount Coecubus — and con-
tinues to do so until within a mile of Itri. Here I merely
waited to breakfast, and observed the carobba-tree growing
in the neighbourhood. Pursuing my way, I turned off the
main route to visit Gaieta, by a road leading to the rights
close to Cicero's Cenotaph, and within a mile of Mola.

The shores of ancient Formise have long been celebrated
for their delightful situation and cooling breezes ; and a line
of Martial's

(O temperatae dulce Formie littus)

is instinctively suggested by the refreshed senses. The road
winds round a segment of the bay, ending at Oaieta, where
I was little aware of the ludicrous incidents that awaited me.

GAiETA — Rolando's tower — the duomo. 215

On arriving at the gate, I was much disappmnted at hearing
firom the sentry that I eould not enter the town without a
special permission. The sergeant of the gnard was called,
who examined my passport, and could not decide : the officer
on duty was next sent for, who seemed no less at a nonplus.
I mentioned who and what I was, and my object — an
Englishman — a traveller, who was desirous of seeing the
town ; still it would not do. At last a soldier was called to
escort me to the governor's — ^^I with my knapsack on my
back, he with his musket on his shoulder — we marched along
as if I were a deserter ; and with the gloss long since worn off
both my shoes and blouse, I could not help thinking what a
rery indifferent figure I should cut in the eyes of a gentleman.
However, I was mistaken ; no one could have behaved more
politely : I had instant permission to take up my quarters where
I liked, and leave given me to visit even the fortifications.
Gaibta is a strongly fortified garrison-town, and is considered
die key to the kingdom-^- the circumstance which will ex-
plain the little obstacles I had to encounter before I was
allowed to pitch my tent for the night. The harbour is well
described by Homer ; and whoever ranges over it will find
all the features painted by the poet — the towering rocks,
the prominent shores, the narrow entrance, and the hollow
port.

A conspicuous object, close to Gaieta, is the Mausoleum
of Munatius Plancus (Horace's friend, and the founder of
Lyons), now turned into a battlemented tower, and called
Rolando's Tower, after Rolando Furioso. It is a large cir-
cular building, like that of Hadrian's — like it, stripped of its
marble casing, situated on a bold eminence on the narrow
neck that unites it to the main-land. Below this there is a
smaller eminence, called Month sbll' Etbbnita, uiider
which the sea flows through an excavation. An impious
iable prevails here, of this aperture having been formed by
one of the sighs of the expiring Redeemer, which, passing
through the hill, left the perforation.

The Duomo of Gaieta contains a handsome Antique
Vase, now used as a baptismal font : formerly it was oma-

214

ITIl

1 .i.4

with it; V>u*
raloi^ical -;
When
seize and
then at l
lier eh*;n
wards <>1
had her
took p!
they ht
ewMijH'.
hy u\\
\nirv I
edihl'
'I

on t'
uion

It ir-

In -

disl
vnii.

foi" *'

enli-
|»m-i
l'\u
linm
will I «
111 It

iniiiM

elo'-f

l

for t'

oi' M

|M ill
\vin«'

I WW

' 1 r * n

— . I . », • - -- -

i:{:-T :n the Jorda>.

-_ '-ii.^i' representation-

. tier r'roin a door orr-:-

A m.

- - '- »LrMx, covered ^.i.
♦ - .-'III the Old and >"e-^

If iia: which some tn-
-i.a ? Temple — how r'l*
- -11 :^e Xric Testaii;-:^:

• . -'-.r.-alle palutln^-. -^

': . :::::ng this churl.

-• £ V. -:. long enoiijl: :

•. .'f -tLS-reliefs of J : yj. h

--1 -c iT*>:eiidinir the siezs

^ : : _■. :*- the fr-ot wLr"~

.r i: -'. me, bv ilv "r:n:ril .:.f
^ 1 i'l-.j^^iTv. St. A:::h:::v

. ' — -e C'jr.iiratulates then:.

..-^ liir^rae^J, thev were nc-

►. :«:'ilca:es, ought to make

.-•^: rtfuetit? received ai Lis

-^ :l:eir 2:ratitude in words,

.^ ^•lue sit^n of thankfulness.

--.^cd their heads out of the

, v: when, as usual, manv

.yv. jir^ g:o<.^d, and the sea
. ••' uAtur^ seems to pro-
- ^e cli:iia:o is so kindly
-. - \-.i:td here.

^ X

CICERO'S C0UNTRT-H0U6B — MIMTURNiE. 217

Having visited all that was worth seeing in the town,
which ^neas is said to have called after his nurse, I was
desirous of crossing the bay in a boat to Mola, but was dis-
appointedy and so I walked round by the sea-shore.

Cicero's villa is placed by antiquaries in Mola, at a few
paces beyond the principal inn ; but were its site a more
disputed point than it is, I should be inclined to fix it about
a mile on the Graieta side of Mola, and close to the beach
where the remains of an ancient wall, nearly 200 feet in
length, hem in an orchard from the sea. This spot would
better accord with what we learn from history concerning
Cicero's death, and with the situation of the cenotaph erected,
as it is thought, near to the spot where he was murdered.
This supposition also, if it could be established, would better
identify the cenotaph as that of Cicero, of which several
learned antiquaries have entertained doubts : indeed, its
distance from Cicero's supposed residence at Mola does not
conform well with the circumstances attendant on his death,
as related by different historians. Cicero, we are told, flying
from the vengeance of Pompey, was overtaken by the assas-
sins sent to murder him, just as he had got to his country-
house by Gaieta ; and when apprised of their arrival, he had
time to escape to the sea- shore, carried iir a litter, before
Herennius came up and accomplished his bloody mission,
by cutting off his head. Now, Cicero's supposed residence
at Mola is situated close by the sea, and, had the event
happened here, there was no need of the lapse of time con-
veyed in this account, for Cicero to have immediately em-
barked and escaped; for that was evidently his object in
making for the beach.

From Mola the' road coasts along not far from the sea to
the ruins of the ancient city of Minturnje, celebrated for the
story of Marius and the soldier sent by Sylla to kill him.
Here are still considerable remains of an Aqueduct, and suffi-
cient remains of a Tubatrb to designate it with certainty,
besides a large circular vestige of some edifice, which seem-
ingly had been surrounded by a portico. Yet, when we
think of the extent of this once-flourishing city, and how few

218 THE LIRIS ROOSTING IN A RUIN.

anl ini!-tinct are the traces of it which now remain, we are
leiiipreJ to rej^eat the exclamation,

^' P .-' ' : ; . :•»» ". :^m i:o'TK>rli o<S'J iactnf /"♦

1 interjilf! rUrpin^ at the |)Ost-house ; hut on applyins:
f«jr a-'coiiiTiv -elation, tbev poimedlv denied me. A detachment
cf Gt-rinaii suldit-rs happeueil to he on their return from
^^icily. and occupied every bed. I requested leave to sleep
(.n s -me straw, in a corntr — any where, in short — provided I
ha'i slulter. for th».'re was no hou-e nearer than Sant Agata,
a:: 1 i: w-s tO' latt- to walk sj far : hut I was ajrain unhospit-
a 1\ r^.fll^td, Not knuwiu'^ where I was to lay my head
for tlie n:::ht. I walked on to a station of Carahinieri, where
a wo.vun brid^^e cros-es the ancient Liris, now the Garisfliano:
hero 1 wa- referred back to tlie ruins of the tlieatre, where,
in one ^>f tlie arcaile^, a man and his wife had made them-
ScIncs a habitation — but wretchedness had not hardened their
luarts. for tht'V received me kindlv. I had some tolerahle
w'/.o and a bttf-srtak for supper, and, after ran2:ing over
all :'-.at rtsts ot' tb.e wreck oi^ ancient Minturnte, whose U|>-
r;o:tvl foi;:ula:i. t^s, characterless and irrated to dustv nothins:,
arc now crx^sse.l by the plouLrhshare of the peasant, with
scarce a stone to shew where tlie citv once stood, I retired
to rot. or ratl.cr -i\'^t. To iiet to mv hed-chamher I had to
!nonn: bv a common stable-ladder, and found a little litter
\\as all I had to lie upon: my host and his wife pigged
to'ctbcr in a s.vnilar manner, with oidv a latch on the door,
and a tb.iu ileal pa!-tition betwixt us. Next morning I rose,
as n<uaU ai i!avl;::ht. and found mvself but little refreshed
b\ nw !\:cb.t's loil^rii'.L: : niv bones and head ached, with
s\u^>ptv^n\s of a tv'^rjnjl livi-r ^whicli I luid not contrived to get
rui ot*^ much ai:\:ravatcd. However, it was necessary to

>tart.

The iwid bciwccn Ciarigliano and Sant Agata offers
noihmc fvM' remark, >avc that it improves much in appear-

* V ^- \>1a;i\ on nnIiuIa iho lunis o\' M:nHirna? siarul was the battle-field
.^ w'vu .\ r.u- S.iv.uMU \xoiv vKtVattvi. M\d vliivi!! oiit of this part of Italy, by
V.\, V. n\.ux|\a>* v^t' rusi\\n\,in iho pontitkaie of .John X.

SUB8SA — ITS THERMS. 219

anoe as yoa approach the latter. The mountain to the right
of Sant Agata is the ancient Mount Massicus, once so famous
ibr its wines ; and the geologist, on observing the soil, will
perceive that he has again entered a volcanic country. At
Sant Agata I turned off to the left, to visit the ancient town
of Suessa, which stands on an eminence a short distance off.

SUESSA.

Snessa, the ancient Sinuesda, was one of the cities of the
Volciy which was taken and annexed to the Roman state
under Tarquin the Proud. Here there are the remains of a
spacious Theatre to be seen, to the formation of which the
natural situation and figure of the ground had largely con-
tributed. Immediately behind the theatre there is a Square
Arcade and several Hot Baths, in great preservation ; and
in another part of the town there are others under ground,
which are shewn by torchlight. This city was much cele-
brated in ancient times for its natural thermae, which were in
high repute for the cure of insanity, and rendering women
prolific*

The height on which Suessa is situated is formed of
volcanic dust, mixed with pieces of lava of various size ; and
the country in the immediate neighbourhood exhibits the
aspect of a preceding period of volcanic action. Suessa also
possesses some modem antiques. In the main and leading
street you see, let into the wall of a house, a rude piece of
sculpture, of a priest holding a book in his hand ; and, by the
date upon it, it must be as old as '' MCOI." Near to this
there are two inscriptions : one,

IMP .C£SARI.
CAROLO.V . AUG.

SVLEYMAMO .
TURCORUM .REGE.
PANONIA. PULSO.
SVESSAKI.

* Ovid. Met. 15. ▼. 715 ; Mela, ii. c. 4; Strabo, v. ; Mart. 6. Ep. 42—
ll.Ep. 8.

220 AN ADVENTUKB ON THE ROAD

Another commemorates a victory gained by his son PhDip
over the Tunisians.

As yott descend from Cascano, a mile and a half from
Sant Agata^ you get a view of the different layers of volcanic
dust which composed the whole of this part of the country,
before these were amalgamated by the hand of the husband-
man ; for such had once been the soil of the centre of Cam-
pania Felix, when first ejected from the volcanoes of Agnano
and Avemus, in their state of activity — but hitjus hactenus.

The next post-house is at Sparanisi, where I anticipated
comforts in store to make amends for my privations the
night preceding : but Hope has told more than one *' flat-
tering tale/' and too often flatters only to deceive. Having
spent so much of the day at Suessa, it was becoming dark
by the time I got within three long Neapolitan miles of the
post-house. By the road-side there was a wretched hovel,
made of the unhewn branches of trees, where they sold
ctqua vitcB; and here I inquired the distance to Sparanisi,
when a woman within advised me, with some earnestness,
not to proceed further so late at night, lest I should &11 in
with bad characters. Her manner somewhat excited my
attention ; but when I learned that there was no osteria in
the village which stood on the height above, I considered
there was no alternative but to proceed. Ghiess my astonish*
ment on being offered hospitality for the night in her hat,
alone with her and her husband, away from every house
except on the distant height, with nothing but a little straw
to lie upon, and that spread on the ground ! What a com-
modious opportunity to get murdered on the sly, thought I,
were a man tired of this weary world ! However, not feeling
disposed so, I deemed it better to run any uncertain risk
there might be for one more possible ; and with this estimate
of the chances, I bade my obliging acquaintance '* good
night." But a man may sometimes receive good counsel too
slightingly ; and, what is worse, because more uncharitable,
put unkind constructions on well-meant intentions. I was
weary : it was dark ; and as I trudged pensively along, all
of a sudden I heard voices, and the next moment I found

ASSASSINS — SPARAMISI. 22 1

myself in the midst of three ruffianSy who stood over the body
of a man lying on the groij^nd^ on his back, rifling his person,
as it seemed to me ; and, as I passed close by, almost treading
upon it, I observed that the body was lifeless, to all appear-
ance, half-undressed, with blood about the mouth and nose.
Coming on them so unexpectedly, the men seemed startled ;
they simultaneously made way for me to pass, and we ex-
changed no salutation. I had not got out of sight when
one of them called out to me in a strong and rough tone of
▼oice, to stop, *' Fertna r to which I replied, in a tone not
more kindly, ** Que voletef^ but did any thing but stop : in
fiu^t, I took to my heels, and, although already more than
sufBciently fatigued, I ran as fast as I could. Again I heard
the word '* Fertna !*' but this only made me run the faster :
I now heard footsteps in pursuit of me, or else my appre-
hensions deceived me ; but luckily the night was quite dark ;
and when I got to Sparanisi I was ready to drop down with
exhaustion.

I had walked (and ran) eighteen Neapolitan, which are
^ual to twenty-seven Roman, miles, with a heavy knapsack
on my back ; I had passed a restless night the night pre-
ceding; and, moreover, I was now really unwell. On
arriving at the inn, I threw myself into a chair, unable to
speak for some minutes, when observing the house full of
another detachment of Gennan soldiers, I mentioned to them
what I had seen ; but no one seemed inclined to go in pursuit
of the assassins, — for such I had every reason to believe them
to be. I was told, that only a few days before, the bodies
of three of their comrades had been brought in naked from
the mountains, murdered for their clothes. But my troubles
were not yet ended ; for, on asking the landlady to shew me
to a bed-room, I was again told that I could not be accom-
modated, and must leave the house: indeed the landlady
seemed determined to drive me out ; but, as I felt no sort of
relish to face again the dangers I had just escaped, I was
not to be affronted so easily as on more ordinary occasions.

The Neapolitans detest the Germans; and as the soldiers did
not pay for their billets, the woman seemed bent on wreaking

222 CAPIA CHURCH OF ANNUNZIATA.

hor ill-humour on me. who had no wish to offend her : she
evt n iU ir.fd nu- leave to ?it in a chair all nijxht, and appeared
dt!rnnii:t-^l to l>e satistitxl with uothins: less than turning: n^^
cut i't\ix>r>. Luckilv one of the soldiers, seeing: how harshly
I was trt^-attxl. took niv nam. and verv gfood-naturedlv offered
rje ran of his Wd. The kind-hearted fi.'llow shewed me
i:p s:a:r> into an apartment where there were three, and,
a':!. : ;jh wi:h<Viit curtains, I eved them with the look of an
t'r.o*;:T\. My ntxt stt-p was to see if I could not ^et the
tr.::-y: of or.e of :!u'Ik-^Is to myself; so, procuring half a gallon
of >v::.o, 1 vlitxi mv comrade into such 2:ood humour, that,
i:v.!k^'oi :<:.:. Le iI:^i^ted upon my having the undivided whole,
' -.>: a> I !:;..: o.MrivtHi : aiul hv wav of clenching: his friendly
f. t..' j: : w.^.'-l iiu- :V.e m-^re firmlv, I ^rave him and his two
o :v.r.-.u> ..r. ::.tr ii> a-iire of wine. Fortunate to excess, I
>'tv: :'.t sl.^r v?f t::e o^iuented. A trifle next morning: at
V -.r: . j:. f r :i v k-.r.l av" 'laiTitaTioe to drink my health, squared
:o ::•> s.\::?f.\o::.^n : — as for the landlady, I took no

■^ * * • ♦ *^ * * \

V

A vv: v.:-^ v f :'iu^ ,:rt\att>it fertility conducts to Capua ;
V .: :* ,.:_/. e\ :'tvr.v..:lv fruitful, volcanic soil has none of
:'..'. xtV.-.."^ >AvtT:: t>s ^^hioh dt lights the senses: on the
':. v .\' >v^ f:\ ivi it a ^titl:ug halitus — a taint it gets
'/ .^ .^--.u .' :: h,\> v^Kic'v^^tit^ — which oppresses the head;
r^ .• N \: <- ". v/. >..:v. f-r :lu fragfrant and unsullied breath
v^f X ^>^ «; V ;:.;:v. >* ' xii a:.:ura:es ever)* tlower with a smile.

CATIA.

l\;vv.:; u:>o< n vMi a torttn^te of the annoying: importunity
r.'N*. ^^ -\ V'.i^'.'o v^f NapIiS. You are pestered at every step
>x ;^ »» { :..;'" '* A.::..//" ** A\L:i^:m' f" hv a host of

x^._; ;^ t,» V >v\uv f'.vTt\ \> iiioh I went into the Church of

^^5 Vnm n". v\ V, Ucuiv.g uiy knap^ack at the porch.

r* X ol'v.JvV. ivr.iam^ iluve paiutiugs by Solimene : the
. >v^ > ox^*' •^^'0 i;n\i\d altar, aud npre^euts the event from
\x> v'; i!ic vlvr.uh vloMNcs its uauu^ : the next is a Visitation* ;
^.,^j .,!u' ;*VAU luK r*cvsr v>K vuK Pas<\\l Lamb. In the

RUINS OP ANCIENT CAPUA — AVERSA. 223

last a lamp is Bospended over the heads of the gnmp seated
at table, and the light proceeding from it is extremely well
managed, and produces a fine effect ; otherwise these three
paintings are badly composed — a fault, by the way, common
to most of this artist's paintings. The frescos on the ceiling
are more pleasing ; and among those most so are an Ado*
EATiOH OF THB Magi, a VISITATION, CiRCUMCisiON, and a
Flight into Egypt. Before quitting this church, obBerve a
St. Sbbastian : it is a very indifferent painting, but there is
merit as well as novelty in the representation of the subject
— they are shooting at the victim. A good artist could have
made a great deal of such an idea, by mixing up emotions
among the group, which would have thrown increased in*
terest into the subject, and, by varying the feelings, given
a point to each.

Two miles from modem, stands the little that remains of
ancient, Capua. There are some considerable vestiges of an
Avphithbatbb, and the remains of several Temples, an arch
or two of an Aqueduct, and several broken columns strewed
about. '* Urbs Capys hoc campo V^ you cannot help asking
in the words of the poet, '* ambitiosa hie rnnrnla RanuB?'*
and yet this is all that rests of Rome*6 gay rival !

The soil here is still exceedingly fertile, and the ** dive$
Capua* is as highly cultivated and productive now as in the
days of Vii^. The wreck of this ancient city, the *' om-
aiiim olim felicis^ima avitas'* of Polybius, is close to the little
town of Santa Maria, whence there is a way into die high
road to Naples. Midway, Aversa stands on the ruins of
ancient Atella, celebrated among the Romans for its bonrtnoU
— the FabuliB AtellantB,*

AVERSA.

Aversa was built by Robert Ouiscard, Duke of Nor-
mandy, and is principally remarkable for a large asylum fi>r

* Tliese Fabula were presented between the acta of other comedies, by
wiy of exodkam or interlude ; indeed^ Suetonius uses the expression, '< £xo-
dinm Atellanicum."

224 ARRIVAL AT NAPLES.

the insane which is here. Dr. Latrillo is the resident phj*
sician. Fever I understood to be one of the most common
causes of the disease, and hereditary disposition a rare one.
Out of 1726 patients admitted within the last ten years,
twenty only were ascribable to hereditary transmission. Lore
had been the cause of about one-twelfth of the whole number
— a much larger proportion than the computation made in
Paris ; but love, as Esquirol says, has long since ceased to
break hearts or turn heads in France. The mortality among
the unhappy inmates at Aversa is excessive, amounting to no
less than a fourth of the whole, many of whom have been
carried off by typhus fever — another proof of the incor-
rectness of the idea, that insane people can successfully resist
the influence of causes which produce diseases ordinarily in
the sane.

I got to Naples, almost suffocated with the dust of the
Campagna Stellata, on the 10th of April.

NAPLES.

Italy is usually called the garden of the world, and
Naples the garden of Italy. Fruit-trees groan under the
burden of their own productiveness, and flowers breathe their
epithalamic fragrance twice a-year : every thing here seems
^to be generated in superabundance ; and if population be
deemed the thermometer of a nation's prosperity, then Naples
ought to be the most flourishing city in Europe.

From the many attractive objects that are within view of
and surround Naples, on a stranger's arrival his first move-
ments are excursive and unsettled. He gets to the shore of the
bay, opposite Vesuvius, and watches the smoke that curls up
its scorified flanks, to hover, like a departed spirit, over the
abyss it has left : he ascends to the castle of St. Elmo, and
sends his eye out to sea to make the circuit of the bay : he
descends to the Villa Reale to inhale the sea-breeze ; and if
of a taste similar to my own, he will again unconsciously find
himself in front of Vesuvius — the '^ star in the eaat" of
Naples.

CATHEDRAL OF ST. JANUARIUS. 225

Naples was first named Parthenope, after the siren who
drowned herself here in despair, when she found her song
had lost its power of enchantment over Ulysses and his com-
panions. This city was originally a Gh'eek colony, and one
of its poets has prettily said that it fell from heaven. It was
here that the doctrine of Pythagoras floorisfaed, and where
Uerenles established the Olympic games, in honour of whom
Hercalaneum took its name, and the Via Herculana, which
leads to Pozzuoli,

Nothing can exceed the interior magnificence of the
churches at Naples, in which you see nothing but jasper,
porphyry, and mosaic. It is my intention to conduct the
trayeller over some of the most remarkable of these, before
proceeding^ to view the several interesting objects of art and
nature in the neighbourhood.

The Cathsdbal Church of St. Januarius. — This
church stands on the substructions of an ancient temple of
Apollo : it is of Grothic architecture, and was built after the
plan of Nicola Pisano, by Charles of Anjou, first of the name,
whose monument you see over the grand porch. Under the
grand altar reposes the body of St. Januarius, the patron
saint of Naples ; and above it, a statue of the saint in bronze,
with that of Cardinal Carafia by his side ; and over these
you see an Assumption, by the pencil of Perugino. The
whole of the interior is paved with marble, and the ceiling of
the nave is adorned with frescos by Santafide. The ponti-
fical throne is also of marble, and was erected in 1342, under
the pontificate of Clement VI. But the most magnificent
object in this church is the Chapbl of St. Januarius, called
U Taoro. The two fine statues of St. Peter and St. Paul,
on each side of the entrance, are by Oiuliano Finelli : forty*
two columns of brocatello support its interior, and nineteen
statues in bronze adorn its walls, one alone of which cost
4000 crowns. The splendid cupola was painted by Lanr
franco; and the punting of St. Januarius coming out op
TBB Furnace is by Spagnoletto. Among its many precious
relics, the most invaluable of all is the blood of St. Janusr

2-2() TOMB OF ANDREW II. HIS FATE.

riiiji. The phial containing it was found in a convent of
uu!.>, hut hid Ixeu 5o lonij noirlected that it was unknown to
whniii it hatl Ix'longed, when the ahbess prayed to the blessed
\ iivin tl.at the conLrealed l)h)od might liquefy on the day of
tlie U re of the saint in whose holv veins it had circulated.
Ht 1- ]voi;^ prayer was hoard ; the gory clots melted into a
limpid liu-siream on the festival of St. Januarius ; and, to
porpcruatt' xhv nieuiin'y of the fact, this miracle is annually
Tv ; taud ill tiie church of St. Clare, on the 4th of May.

Tiif painriujs in this church are few. In a large chapel
to the r:;:ht of xhv LTiTind altar there is one by Domenichino :
to tlio Kfr. SCO a Holy Family, bv Vaccari ; and in the
sauic trai^.soi't, some paintiiiirs hv Solinieiie. Here also vou
tir.d tlu' ToMH OF Innocent IV., and the still more remark-
aMc o!ic i»f tlio unfortunate Andrew II., king of Naples,
^^:lo^c fate i- recorded in the following epitaph : —

\ \ :^ r. VI ' \ r.'U 1 . i '^ ::t:ti . I'a n non i a . r fg is . f .

>F vr-, : 17 A NCR . F.IC.I .

: o \ N \ » . I \ or. I > . :h' i o . t t . i. a tH' eo . n ec a i o .

I .>; . viN L : r i i . r: r i atf . iiu . ntcoNPiio .

\ : ; • V :> . V •.-.ri > . in^m'i l 1 1 \i . >FruiTVMVE . fa( iNi s .

ro^Tt r. :- . ni manfrft .

> ■. IN . ; "vU < . TF R A i;iM . F . <. ATVl 11'"^ .
>l . I W UlU M . Ti:i 1 IM . NOMEN»^.

r.

MOKri O . aNNcK . MX .

V .. L ». \ l. \ .

NIV . KAl . OCTOU.

Andrew was Ivtrothed. at the aire of seventeen, to his
ijiu^cu, (iio\anna, ami fell her victim at nineteen, in the
HMiist of his court, on the evening of his coronation, through
the aiivcious pertiily o( his young spouse, whose crime was
ivunsellcii by lo\e. hazarded by youth, excused by beauty,
legiimn>e<i by policy, and justified, through tlie power of
goKl. b\ a po]>e : but which was pardoned neither by nature
uvM* couMMcnce. l.ouis II., kino* of Ilunirarv, with a black
haunt r iu his lu\uil, rushed from the iKittom of Germany to
a\eni;v his bivtlier's death, and for forty years pursued,
mcnact\l. or watdied over, by turns, the culpable head of

ST. RESTITUTA — SAN DOMENICO MAOGIORE. 227

this cruel qaeen, until, bleached by misfortunes and remorse,
she felly with her crown still stained with the blood of the
first of her four husbands, under the iron sword of vea-
geanee. The unhappy Andrew was assassinated at Aversa,
and thrown out of a window : his old nurse sought for and
discovered his body. Assisted by a priest, she conveyed it
during tJie night to the cathedral of St. Januarius, where
it was secretly buried by the generous ecclesiastic, who
afterwards erected, at his own expense, this monument to
his memory, the original epitaph on which we have just
read.

Near the principal porch you see a beautiful Baptismal
Font, ornamented with the attributes of Bacchus.

Out of the left aisle, the entrance to the ancient Church
09 St. Rbstituta opens. It was originally a pagan temple,
bat was converted into the cathedral church so early as the
times of the apostle St. Peter, and St. Aspreno, the first bishop
of Naples. The ceiling was painted by Solimene, and the
beads over the arches are by Luca Giordano. Here likewise
observe a mosaic representation of the Blessed Virgin, re-
markable as being not only the first image which was wor-
shipped in Naples, but in all Italy, and therefore the very
first that formally introduced idolatry as part and parcel of
Roman Catholic Christianity. An object here not less igno-
rantly revered is a Crucifix in relief, because sculptured
by a man who was bom blind. This church is flagged with
tomb-stones, several among which are as old as the fourteenth
century.

Church of San Dombnico Maqgiore. — This church
possesses the wooden crucifix which miraculously spoke to
Thomas Aquinas, saying, '^ Bene de me scripsisti, Thama ;
quam ergo mercedem acdpiesf' to which the angelic doctor
modestly replied, '' Non aliam nisi teipstan^ Domine" Over
the crucifix you see a Dbscent from thb Cross, by
Zingaro.

The sacristy contains the tombs of several of the kings of
Naples of the house of Arragon. Here also is the Tomb of

22$ TOMB OF DAVALI — STA. MARIA MAGGIORE.

Ferrando Davali, Manjiiess of Pescara, so celebrated for his
l»ravf ;in<l ireiuTous actions, on which voii read the following:
f'pitaph, hy the pen of Ario?to :

Qji i .«."«■/ ^t '0 CiLdo >ut> '''jrt/K.rc f Maitmu^ ilk

Ft< ■ \ r, l- /'V £■' '•/*!, / \-i5 h'noii.

Xu" ■,'>*•! tt ^iic pi<ccs ctpii f Xnn. EriinqutJ^ UrUs,

Muj't .\r''o< rci:(S, orridu, rmuay itiices ;

L)i< irii'us h,:c cepit Pise: tor rttibus* Alto

C"'tu!t-', nit rep .io cordt^ oltu'ritjiw inanu.

Qui t<:ntu-n rarue^t duce^n ? Duo numina, MaR5, Mok>.

It ru;iri'it O'dsn-Ln co'niiuht ^ I'ividid.

At ,1 'ciitrt nihil ; livit nam fawn supers teSy

Qua M'-rtr.'n ct Morti/n vificity et Invidiam.

The ])aintin<is in this church are few. In the Penelli
ciiapel tliere is a Titian ; and in the sacristy a Flagellatiox
hv CaravoL^Lrio, and a (tlory hv Soliniene.

• - *

Among xhv relics, they preserve the arm of Thomas
Aquinas; also the chair from which he taught theology; and
they shew his cell in the dormitory, now converted into a
chapel.

Cht RCH OF Sta. Maria ^NIaggiore. — This church, ori-
ginally a ten)ple of Diana, was built by Saint Pomponius in
5-33, at the express instance of the blessed Virgin, on the
occasion of the city being freed from the presence of the devil,
who had haunted Naples in the shape of a pig; in con mi e-
moration of which event, a figure of this unclean animal is
fetill to be seen below the clock. But highly interesting and
edifying as this circumstance, no doubt, is, the church of Santa
Maria Maggiore may, perhaps, be considered by some not less
meriting regard for the epitaphs in the chapel of St. John the
Evangelist, composed by Pontani on some of his family, in
which a vein of sweetest pathos, classic elegance, and delight-
ful affection, breathes in every line, expressed in a style of
particularly pure Latin ity ; three of which I coied for the
gratification of those readers wdiose travels do not extend
beyond the boundaries of an arm-chair.

PONTANl's EPITAPHS — SANTI APO8T0LI. 229

PONTSINI'b EPITAPH ON ONB OF HIS SOUS.

ImcIU, iibi lux nomen dedUy tt dedit ipsa
Mater Steila tibiy sieUaque iusgue MtunU.
Eripuit nox atra^ mgnt eripuere tenebre,
Vixisti vix quot lUera prima notat
Hosne dies ? Breve tamne tibi lusjulsit, et aura
Maternum in nimbis sic tenuerejubar ?
Infelixfatumypuer heu maUfelix^ heu, quod
Nee puer es, nee lux, nee nisi inane quid es !
Floreat ad pueri tumukan ver halet, et uma,
Lucilif et cineri spiret inustus odor.
Vies L, non implesti,Jiliole / breve natura specimen, atemus parentum maror

ac desiderium,

ON HIS WIFB.

Ilia thori henefida comes, custosque pudid,
■ Cfdque et acus placuit, cut placuere colt :
Quaquefocum, custosque lares servavit, et arm
Et thura et lachrymas et pia serta dedit,
Inprolem studiosa parens, et amabilis uni
Qua studtdt caro casta plaadt viro.
Hie potUa Ariadna rosa vioUtque nitescant.
Quo posUa Syrio spiret odore locus.
Uma erocum Dominafimdat, distillet amomum
Ad tumtdum, et cineri ^arta citissajluat.
Johannes Javianus Pontanus Uadriana Saxona uxori opt. ac bene merentiss. P.
qua vixit Ann, XL VI. Mens. VI. Obiit Kal. Mart.
An. M.CCCC.LXXXX.

ON HIMSELF.

FiMct domum hone mihi paravi, in qua quiescerem mortttus. Noli obsecro
inpiriam martuo faccre, vivens quern facerim nemini. Sum et enim Johannes
Jovianus Pontanus, quem amaverunl bona Musa, suspexerunt viriprobi, hones-
taverunt Keges, Domini. Scisjam qui sum, out potiusjuerim. Ego vero te,
hospes, noscere in tenebris nequeo, sed te ipsum ut noscas rogo. Vale.

The churches of St. Paul and St. Filippi Nbri contain
many fine paintings, for which, lest I should be too tedious,
I must refer to the Appendix. In that of the Santi Apostoli
the stranger will find a fine architectural painting of the Pool
OF Salome, by Bibiena. The ceiling of the nave is splendidly
painted by Lanfiranc : the Four Eyanqblists in the angles
under the dome are by the same masterly p^icil, and those

230 CHAPEL OF THE SANORO FAMILY.

above the arches are by Solimene. Two beaatifbl Groups
OF Children, by the playftil chisel of Fiamingo, ornament
the chapels in the transept: in that to the right there are
four Emblems of Virtues, by the pencil of Solimene ; the
two paintings on the side-walls are by Giordano. The fonr
paintings in the choir, representing the Annunciation and
the Nativity, the Birth of the Virgin and her Prbssn-
TATiON at the Temple, rtc by Solimene.

This church stands on the site of an ancient temple of
Mercury, erected by Constantine the Great before his con-
version.

Near the church of Trinita Maggiore, where, among other
paintings in fresco, the stranger will see a fine representation
of Heliodorus driven out of the Temple, by Solimene,
stands the Cappella of the family Sangro. This deserted
little chapel encloses several singular specimens of sculpture.
One represents a Man striving to free himself from the toils
of a net, emblematical of the thraldom of Vice ; another is
the statue of a Female of the family Sangro in the character
of Modesty. She is entirely covered with a veil, and yet
every contour of her fine form is so distinct, that the veil,
instead of encumbering the figure, only serves the more to
display the artist's excellence of skill. Arachne never wove
a web more delicate or diaphanous. Beneath, there is a
Noli me tangere in bas-relief. The third is a Dead Christ,
lying on a mattrass, and wrapt in a winding-sheet ; yet this
is so fine, that you can trace through the tissue every agonized
lineament and form. This last was begun by Ck>rradini, and
finished by Giuseppe da San Martino. Over the high altar
there is a Pieta in marble, by Francisco Celebrano. This
chapel also contains the tombs of some of the family ; and up
stairs they shew an anatomical preparation of the arteries
and veins of the human body, minutely executed ; but it is
dirty.

Let the stranger now ascend to the Castle of St. Elmo,
where, from the terrace of the hospital, he commands one of
the finest views about Naples. Immediately below him, and
a little to the right, the eye alights on the palace and grounds

ST. ELMO — CHURCH OF SAN MARTINO. 231

of the late Duchess of Floridiano, where temples, and foun-
tains, and imitations of ancient ruins restored, grace the
Taried contours of the site ; lower still, lies the Villa Reale
and its promenades ; in the distance, the ocean girding
Capri, the infamous seraglio of Tiberius ; to the right, the
classic neighbourhood of BaisB ; and on the left, the filming
Vesuvius. On the hill of St. Elmo stands the splendid Church
op Sah Martino, in beautifying which more than 500,000
ducats were originally expended on the paintings, sculptures,
and silver plate, that enrich it. In the choir, the visitor will
see the four celebrated Cene, as they are called. The first is
by Massimo, and represents the Preparation for thb Sup-
PBR ; the second depicts the Suppbr, painted by a pupil of
the Veronese school ; the third is Spagnoletto's celebrated Com-
ifiTKiov, in which it is difficult to say whether its fine com«
position, its clear and harmonious colouring, or high finish,
18 most excellent ; the last is by Caraccioli, and represents
our Satiour appearihg to his Disciples after hisUbsur-
BBcnoK. Here, also, is an unfinished Nativity by Guido,
the artist having died before he had completed it. This single
painting cost 6000 ducats, and more than double that sum
has been offered for it since.

On the wall fronting the grand altar you see a very fine
PiBTA, by Massimo; MoSbs and Elias, two remarkably
expressive frescos, by Spagnoletto ; and two fine statues of
St. John the Baptist and St. Jerome, by Vaccaro. Spag-
noletto's TwBLVB Prophets, over the arches of the chapels,
seem to emulate the statuary of Vaccaro, for they appear
rather placed there than painted, the illusion is so perfect.
The figure of Isaiah is particularly fine, for as he reads a
book you may believe you see his lips move : but they are
all much faded and injured by time. For the fine paintings
in the chapels I must refer to the catalogue. I may only
observe, in passing, that the one representing the Baptism of
Christ in the Jordan, by Carlo Maratta, did not please me
80 much as the same subject painted by this artist which we
see in the Corsini Palace at Rome; in this, our Saviour
kneels, and the figure is not so imposing. The council*

232 SAN MARTINO THE PAINTINGS.

room contain^ a FLAaBLLAxioK, by the Chevalier d'Arpino,
and Christ disputing in tbb Tbmplb, by a pupil of Soli-
mene. Yoa now enter the sacristy, where, over the entrance
to the Tesoro, you find a beautiful representation of oar
Saviour descbndikg thb Steps from Pilate's HousEy <m
his condemnation, to be crucified. The figures, which are by
the pencil of Massimo, are exceedingly good ; but its most
striking and peculiar merit is in the fine architectural per-
apective, which was painted by Bibiena. Over the opposite
floor there are a Crucipixion, by d*Arpino, and Peter's
Denial, by Caravaggio. In the last, Peter is accused by a
female, while the undutiful apostle attempts to put on the
hardihood of a practised offender ; and yet yoa can perceive
the wavering of trepidation pervading his unsteady features,
as if the faultering tale shook its tremour over his countenance,
conscious of the unworthy falsehood he was tellii^ : his lips
quiver in their purpose of utterance ; his eye wants the finn-
ness of truth, and every muscle of speech vibrates between its
attachments, unable to obey the effort made to keep it firom
varying. Sir Joshua Reynolds was of opinion that it was
impossible to express complex feelings in painting ; but, with
becoming deference to such high authority, I think this
picture exemplifies the contrary ; and that a want of unison
in the expression of the differ^it features is distinctly and
perceptibly marked, analogous in its effect to the contradic-
tions in a tale that is false.

The panels of the sacristy are of inlaid wood-work, exe»
cuted by a German monk, representing fine perspective effect
From the sacristy you enter the Tesoro, which contains a
famous PiETA, the chef-dCoBuvre of Spagnoletto. Never was this
affecting subject more sublimely treated. The group consists
of the dead Christ supported on the knees of his mother, whose
grief is so deep and pathetic as to defy any attempt at de-
scription ; St. John, amiable, youthful, and sad ; the Mag-
dalen, who clings to the Saviour's feet, and bathes them with
her tears ; while Joseph of Arimathea, standing in the back-
ground, affords the eye refuge from the afflicting scene, by
the intensity of his feelings being softened by distance. There

PREVALENCE OF BLINDNESS — ITS CAUSE. 233

is another fine and highly finished representation of the same
sabject, by the same artist, in the church of the Annunziata,
near the Capua gate. It is in the transept, to the right of
the grand altar.

The apartment of the Prior of the Chartreuse of San
Martino contains the famous Crucifixion by Michael
Angelo, to stand for which a peasant, as the story g6e8, was
actually crucified. The other apartments have been con-
verted into a hospital for invalids ; and the traveller will be
struck with the number of blind that are among them. Here
I first saw that it was no longer a figure of speech for '^ the
blind to lead the blind," but a melancholy fact. Blindness
is a common disease in many other parts of the world, and
more particularly on the shores and islands of the Mediter-
ranean. With regard to the Egyptian ophthalmia, both
Assalini and Baron Larrey attribute its endemic prevalence
not to any peculiarity in the soil of this country, but to the
cold damp nights which succeed an intensely hot and dry
day, producing sudden suppression of the cutaneous per-
qpiration. Without denying the due share of influence which
such may operate also in Italy, I entertain a different opinion
of the origin of its more general cause, and am inclined to
ascribe it chiefly to the acrid nature of the exhalations which
proceed from the volcanic constituents of the soil. From
Saessa to Naples this is uninterruptedly composed of volcanic
debris, whence various irritating matters and gaseous fumes
are constantly being given out, and float about dissolved in
a moist and heated, atmosphere. Such, coming in contact
with the eyes, first irritates, and then inflames them; and
hence, in my opinion, arises the prevalence of ophthalmia,
and its common consequence — blindness, in places where
these exhalations exist.

The soil universally is impregnated with sal ammoniac,
which, when taken up and dissolved in an atmosphere satu-
rated with humidity, must act as a constant irritant to eyes
liable to inflame : and sulphureous and other acid fumes are
continually issuing from the thousand ** sosvi spir acuta DitW
all around Naples.

234 THE SIROCCO ITS SOURCE AMD CAUSE.

SiBOCCO. — Yesterday and to-day Naples has been beset
by the sirocco. Few words have a more indefinite meaning,
or have lately been more frequently abused and misapplied
than that of sirocco^ since every breath of air oppressive or
offensive to a travelling Smellfungus*8 feelings must assuredly
be a sirocco ; and so we read of siroccos every where, even
at Florence. Since Brydone's day the sirocco has, by the
consent of every subsequent traveller, been described as a
suffocating blast coming from the deserts of Arabia. But if
we are to credit travellers who have experienced the sarnie!
of the desert, the sirocco and the samiel only resemble one
another in some of their effects ; but nowise in the identity
of their nature. The samiel is described as a blast of wind
first seen approaching from some point of the hori2M>n, and,
as it passes over the prone traveller, it envelopes him '^ in a
fine impalpable dust, which not only penetrates into every
fold of his garments, but into the inmost recesses of boxes
and other baggage." It is this impalpable dust which pro-
duces suffocation ; and animals even, as well as men, cover
their nostrils in the earth, that they may not respire it, so
sensible are they of its &tal approach.

Among the places the sirocco infests, Naples, Messina,
and Palermo, are those principally, and, until the word
became misapplied, almost exclusively, spoken of by travel-
lers who have treated of the subject. Agrigentum, and the
whole south side of Sicily, which are directly opposite to the
point whence the sirocco is said to come, are not noticed by
any writer as being particularly exposed to its stifling influ-
ence, or, indeed, as being obnoxious to it at all. Is this not
very singular? let me ask. Is it not, in fact, subversive of
the very idea of its origin? Again, no part of the coast of
Greece has ever been reputed as liable to the effects of the
sirocco ; and yet no rational cause can be assigned for tins
exemption, if it be true that it comes from the opposite coast;
and, after various inquiries made of naval officers who have
been stationed in the Mediterranean, and who have navigated
this sea at all seasons and in all directions, I have not been
able to find one who had ever experienced its effects while

80URC£ AND CAUSE OF THE SIROCCO. 235

tmvereiiig for years tbe very track of its supposed course.
How 18 it possible, let me again ask, that this could have hap-
pened, did the sirocco cross the Mediterranean from Africa?

Its denomination of a tcind^ in the first place, is misap-
plied ; for it must be well known to every one who has felt
Its baneful impression, that when this state of atmosphere
exists there is no wind at all. The day it prevails is over-
cast, sultry, and calm ; look around, and you see nothing
but a lurid haze, as ofiensive to the eye as its breath' is
poisonous to every other sense.

But after having endeavoured, by the foregoing obser-
vations, to set aside the unfounded and mistaken notion
mtertained of the nature and source of the sirocco, how
otherwise, the traveller has a right to inquire, is the pheno-
menon to be explained? The following is the view I am
inclined to take of it.

From the fuming mouths and crevices of Vesuvius, and
the pseudo-volcanic vicinity of the Pisciarelti, Solfatara, and
Baiae {vaporifer<B BauB)y from Stromboli and Etna, there is
constantly issuing mephitic vapours and gases, which, from
their heated and rarefied state, naturally ascend, and, mixing
with the purer circumambient air, get diluted and dispersed
by every casual wind. But let us suppose not an unusual
occurrence to take place, namely, that this mephitic atmo-
S}Aere shall sufier a sudden diminution of its elasticity through
a change of temperature taking place high up in the air,
while the aqueous vapour it holds dissolved becomes in con-
sequence more condensed ; and that at the same time there
shall be no wind to disperse the gaseous exhalations as they
continue to arise from below ; the natural effect must be, for
these dense vapours to descend, and for those which are being
evolved to fall again, as soon as they have cooled down to an
equilibrium of temperature with the surrounding atmosphere.
The necessary consequence of all which must be, for this
concentrated mass of mephitic vapour to lodge, by reason of
its greater specific gravity, on the surface of the earth, and
thus envelope within its range and influence every being that
breathes.

236 SOL RCE AND CAUSE OF THE SIROCCO.

AJiltd 10 this state of contamination are the fresh exha-
lariou- that oomiiiue to be emitted, thus saturating the more
<troiuly with niephitisin the already infected air ; and in
ciiit'S where narrow wiiidiiiir streets and hig^h huildinirs
tiii;uij:lt' iht'se niephites, and impede their dispersion, the
sutt'ocaiing adiilieratiun must of necessity he more powerfully
tVh. rSow, tho eti'oots on the human frame which the sirocco
provluots are preoisoly those known to be caused by mephitic
ua'^^^ wht n inhaled : and when we consider the proximity of
>aj'us tv) \'tsaviu<. and of Messina and Palermo to Stromboli
aiKi r.riia. we can no longer wonder at their being sites par-
lieiiKirlv exposed to experience the sirocco, or at the immu-
niiy (>{ *.>ther j)hioes in the same parallel, which, if it really
procted Ironi the African coast, would encumber the other
tliifiv'uliios attached to the hypothesis of a wind which is no
xNii.d, Mith an additional paradox. In a word, the sirocco,
provt J iy so e^iiUd, is uuthing else, in my opinion, than volcanic
nie| iiites deposited tVoni a humid and unstrung atmosphere,
ANiiieli, when inhaled into the lun^s in a condensed and
conet^iitrated state, ]>roduoes those effects in a poisonous
nKi!ii:er. whioh ilie ^aniiol of the desert produces solely in a
Kieolianioal.

A jdieuonienon familiar to all who have resided a winter
in London, and precisely similar in its philosophical rationale,
ofiin ooeurs about Novend)er. I allude to the dense and
dark fo^s o( London. About this time of the vear the atmo-
spliere is liable to sudden diminutions of elasticity, which,
when they happen, preci]iitate the smoke proceeding from
innumerable coal tires alon»r with the humidity, in a way
[>reei*;ely analoi^ous, as 1 conceive, to what takes place at
Naples, Messina, ikc. when the sirocco prevails; and many
delieate invalids, especially the asthmatic, sutler in a w^ay
very similar to that i)roduced bv the sirocco. Coal-smoke,
we know, consists principally of mephitic and sulphureous
fumes.

The exhalations given out all round Naples are extremely
irritating to the lungs, aggravating every pulmonic disease;
and I am afraid the Italian saying, ** Jr^ee Naples and die/'

THE 8TUDJ — OALLERT OF THE PAINTINGS* 237

has often been too literally verified by many an English
yictiniy led to a premature death by the pemicioas and self-
interested counsel of itinerant medical practitioners, the
modem ns^odforou. According to Dr. Ruggiero, deaths from
coosamption form a fifUi part of the bills of mortality in
Naples. This impurity of the atmosphere is even sensible
to die nostrils ; for the air never has that sweet refreshing
aroma which makes an English spring so grateful and
fragrant.

Oppressed by feelings the cause and source of which I
had taken pains deliberately to analyse, I sought relief in a
visit to the Studj, to view the fine galleries of statuary and
painting, by way of getting rid of them. I shall first sue*
cinctly notice some of the latter, referring to the Appendix
for a more comprehensive enumeration.

The FiBST Apartmbut contains nothing very remarkable.
In the second, observe a Magdalbn, by Titian, delightfully
painted ; but still she weeps as if her grief were of the Ephe-
sian kind. This picture seems to be the portrait, in fact, of
some beautiful woman, with a tear or two sprinkled on each
cheek, merely to give it an appropriation. Another fine
painting, by the same great master, is the Finding op Moses,
which abounds in character, and is marked by prominent
relief and micrometrical perspective.

In the Thibd Apartment you find Domenichino's Guar-
niAN Anoel : an angel of ineffable sweetness of expression,
depicting to the eye the beauty of holiness, protects with his
shield an infant boy from the evil fiend ; while the child,
with clasped hands and an expression of devout confidence
in the all-sufficiency of the succour, looks towards the throne
of Omnipotence, to which the angel is directing his regards.

Over a Magdalen, by Guercino, observe an Infant
ASLEEP, surrounded with the emblems of our Saviour's pas-
sion, by Guide.

The Cabinet.— This little cabinet is appropriated to
paintings of mythological subjects, some of which are treated
in a manner not the most favourable to delicacy. Among
these are Titian's celebrated Danae; the Bacchante dblla

'2liS THE STUDJ GALLERY OF THE PAINTINGS.

SrHiANA of Caracci ; Cupid kissing his Mother, by Bron-
ziiio : and another of the same, copied in crayons by Michael
Anirolo : Diana and Pan, seated in a wood, with their limbs
entwined in a manner not very becoming the immaculate
\ir-j:in of the heathen mytholoiry ; and Hercules between
\ iHFUE AND Pleasure, bv Hannibal Caracci. The three
tiiriuvs are represented seated in a rich landscape-scene :
\'irtue and Pleasure, pointing in opposite directions, are each
eiuhwvouring to perMiade him towards their respective paths.
The oxpro!i?ion of indecision is admirable, and affords another
example of oomjilex feelinir represented by painting.

Among several other ^na paintings in the Fourth Apart-
>iuNT, I was more particularly struck with one representing

AnnVHAM ENIEKTAINING THE THREE AnGELS, and tWO

CnoiKS or Anckls playing on stringed Instruments, by
C\M'n;:io. On table? in the centre of this room observe
MopKi.s in eork of Pa stum, Herculaneum, and Pompeii.

PirTH Afakimknt. — Here are some gems of art, by the
>oft and toiulor peuoil of Correirio, one of which is exceed-
iuiilv Ivautit'ul — the Marriage of St. Catherine. The
Civiip v^^n^i^t^ of three ti;rures, the Madonna, the Infant, and
\\\c \ou{\\\\i\ Kate: and the solemn ceremony of marriage
is Ih ir.^ pertbrnud as if it were a fete of sportive child-
luvvl. Tlitiv is another !>ij(ui here of the same playful
eh.iraoter- -a hoy C'l riD. seated in a landscape-scene, with
his u iuus expandoil like a buttertiy's, gay as his gadding
prv^tv>i\pe, ;uul ei[ually tickle and shortlived. This cha-
nieieri<tie i>ortrait of Love is by the pastoral pencil of
vV'liidone.

In the SixvH Atartment notice two charmins: Land-?
sv' vrus, bv Claude Lorraine : Gvpsies telling a credulous

«

i'io>\N nis I'oRTUNE, aiul two Sharpers easing a Booby
vM* ms AIom:\. by C^iravaggio. The same subjects, by the
siune urti>t, aiv to be seen in the Pitti palace at Florence;
but those at Naples are nuuv carefully finished. Remark,
like>\ise, PuvFK denyim; C^hrist, bv Delia Notte : but the
e\p»>'*s^uMi of St. Peter is objectionable; he tells the unworthy
faUehvHHl »iih tiH> sincere a countenance.

THE STUDJ GALLERY OP THE STATUARY. 239

The Sbvbnth Apartmbnt contains several exquisite
paintings by Raphael, to which I must merely allude : they
are in his last and richest, or Bartholomean manner : whilst
the Eighth and last is adorned, among others, with a glorious
St. Joh9, and a Virgin and Child, by Da Vinci ; several
Portraits by Raphael ; a finished sketch in oil of the Last
Judgment, by the hand of Michael Angelo himself; a superb
Rbsurreotion, by II Sodoma ; and Silenus inebriated,
by Spagnoletto.

In the centre of this room some cloth, fish-hooks, and
musical instruments, from Otaheite, are placed. Among
the last is a flute, on which the Otaheitans play with their
note — a sort of symphonic stertor ; intended, no doubt, to
amuse them when asleep.

Gallery op the Statues. — In the midst of so nume-
rous and select a collection of statues, it puzzles fastidiousness
to give a preference ; I shall therefore only gratify those
among them who seem determined to speak for themselves,
if I do not.

No. 120 is a charming statue of a Youthful Bacchus,
such as a poet would conceive him as the adoring lover of
Ariadne, ere sensual excess had made him the god of wine
and revelry.

No. 98 indicates a beautiful group of Vbnus reprovinq
Cupid. The queen and mother of Love is accusing the little
reprobate of some misdeed, and he replies with the sauciness
and efirontery of an incorrigible ofiender.

The visitor will likewise find here a superb and most
charming statue of Flora of colossal size, the celebrated
Farnbss Hercules, and the no less celebrated group of
the ToRO. By the sides of the pedestals of some of the
statues there were several beautiful frescos from Pompeii,
which had been lately removed firom the king's palace at
Portici. The subjects of some evince an elegant playful-
ness of taste, each expressing but a thought, as the odes of
Anacreon do a sentiment — such as an infant Cupid seated in
a car drawn by butterflies ; a little car drawn by two bees.

240 PALAZZO RBALE — CHURCH OP ST. CLARE.

with a butterfly sitting as coacbman, holding the reins with
his feet ; another^ drawn by a parrot^ and gaided by a grasa-
hopper ; a foorth, laden with a ewer interlaced with roses,
is drawn by two little mermaids, for the first toilette of
Venns, as we are to imagine, ere she issued firom amidst the
spicee of the shell that bears her name. Other frescos, again,
represented subjects no less beautifully conoeived — as, a man
dancing on the tight rope ; Diana conducted by Cupid to
Endymion's bower ; a danzatrice, clothed, not corered, with a
veil of the most transparent texture, displaying all the grace
and voluptuous suppleness the female figure, &c.

The Rotal Palace, which can only be viewed by per*
mission, contains several excellent paintings, in a suite of
apartments leading out of the private theatre belonging to
the palace ; for which see the Appendix.

Church op Santa Chiara. — The royal church of St.
Clare is remarkable both tbr its antiquily and magnificence.
It was founded by Robert, king of Naples, and Sancha of
Arragon, his queen. Behind die grand altar you see the
Tomb of the royal founder, with a single line for its motto :

CERNITE . ROBERTUM . REGEM . VIRTUTE . REFERTUM •

To the right of it is the Sepulchre of his son Charles, the
illustrious Duke of Calabria, who died a.d. 1328.

It is in this church that the miracle of the liquefiiction
of the blood of St. Januarius is performed ; an annual farce
enacted on the 4th of May. I saw it when here ; but was
somewhat astonished to observe, that, however much it
was a matter of pastime for foreigners to witness, it ap>
peared to excite little or no interest among the resident
inhabitants. On entering the church, a group of chairs, set
to the right of the grand altar, indicated the place politely
set apart for strangers, opposite to which were the relatives
descendants of the saint. On the grand altar stood the
Skull op St. Januarius, encased in a mask of solid gold,
before which was placed the vial containing the clotted

RECEIPT FOR A MIRACLE. 241

Uood. And now the farce commences : the masked skull
keeps staring at the vial without moving a muscle — the vial
stands like a Stoic unmoved at the scene ; and as a feeling
of the ridiculous begins to scintillate on the cheek of the
stranger, the ragged relatives of the saint set up a suppli-
cating howl in a sort of measured discordance, which, though
it be impossible to distinguish each separate vociferation,
sounds very much like what I have often heard elsewhere —
** Och ! and why did you die, and lave all the praties behind
yon !" — the head, notwithstanding all these noisy supplica-
tions, and sometimes abuse, looking the while as grave and
serious as the wonder-working sconce of Friar Bacon. At
length the sanguine clot begins to liquefy ; tears of blood
trickle down the sides of the vial, tears of joy tumble from
every eyelid ; and the completion of the miracle is announced
by a shout of grateful exultation from the descendants of the
saint, that rends the holy vaults of St. Clare.*

Marvellously inexplicable as this feat may at first sight
appear, yet, as it is not beyond the boundary of miraculous
power to perform — as indeed we have just witnessed —
neither, perhaps, is it beyond the compass of ordinary inge-
nuity to explain ; and the following receipt may do as a pis-
oiler, till Margaret Dods of the Cleikum Inn, shall, in the
next edition of her cookery-book, favour us with a better : —

" Take a vial filled with some sai^uine-coloured flpid,
and congeal it artificially, place it on an altar, or other fit
tablet, and be sure to place before it a relic — no matter what
— St. Crispin's awl will do ; keep it well frozen until the
proper moment of the de7U>uement arrives, when, supplying
the place of the frigorific mixture below by an Argand's lamp,
the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius, or of any other
saint, will be accomplished secundum artem — that is, by a
miracle."

* A roincle of a somewhat similar description used to be enacted in
ancient times, and is alluded to by Horace in the 5th satire of his first
book:—

— ^-^ <' flamma sine, thura liquesceie limine sacro

Pemwdere bipit/'

212 CARACCIOLO HIS FATE — CRUCITIXES.

Tlie IIic.ii Altar of this church is adorned with a painting
by Francisco iNIura, and those which ornament the dome
are by Sebastian Conca.

Church of San Giovanni a Carbon ara. — This church
13 noted for possessintx among its rehcs the Blood of St.
John the Baptist : it, too, smokes and Hquefies on the eve
of the saint's lestivnl ; l)nt it seems every thing must needs
smoke and h(|iH*fy in the vicinity of Vesuvius. Near the
urand aUar vou see the Chapel and Tomb of the unfortunate
Caracciolo. W hen describing the cathedi*al, I pointed out
the tomb of the unhappy Andrea, the husband of Joan the
First ; here I have to speak of Joan the Second, and of her
lover, wliose history and fate bear a striking simihirity to
that of our M-^sex. Camcciolo, vet vounii:, had the misfor-
tune to phrase a queen already in years; and indemnifying
himself other wavs for tlie ennui he suflered bv such a luiisotf,
he trusted too mucli to tlie last ])assion of a woman, and
whilst he was insulting a queen, he ))elieved himself only
quarrelling with a mistress. Like Essex, Caracciolo reddened
the scaffold with his blood, shed by her order. Joan, like
F^lizabeth, died shortly after, consumed by love and regret,
before tlie adored and bloodv head of her lover, which ni<rht
and dav was before her eves.

In this cliurch vou likewise see the fine Gothic Tomb of

ft'

KiNc; Ladl^laus.

iMaiiy other of the churches in Najdes contain something
appertaining to the miraculous. In that of Cohradino there
is a Wooden Cricifix, whicii, when Nai)les was besieged
by King Alplionso, would infallibly have been broken by the
fall of an enormous stone, liad it not wisely avoided tlie blow
bv turniiif]: its head aside. In that of Santa Maria della
Grazia, there is another of wood, which escaped scathless
amidst the Hamcs of Vesuvius, and was found witliout a
singe among the red-hot cinders. St. Agnello possesses a
third, which miraculously spoke, and, l)y its testimony, con-
demned a man to pay a debt which he had previously denied.
Indeed, there would be no end of citintj; the various crucifixes

Eustace's monument. 243

and images that have talked and moved abont; and no
scholar, at least, need be sceptical on this point, when he
recollects how common similar occurrences were before cruci-
fixes were ever thought of at all. All may remember reading
of the prodigies which appeared at Rome in the time of the
Triumvirate, when the statues of many of the gods sweated
blood, and when a bull spoke : and then, again, in Caligula's
time, when the statue of Jupiter burst out into such hear^
peels of laughter, that those sent to dismount it from its
pedestal and transport it fh>m Olympia to Rome, fled
aflBrighted, and left it standing where it was.

Two other churches remain to be noticed ; that of the
Crocellb al Chiatamone ; the other, Sta. Maria del
Pbato. The first is interesting to the English traveller as
containing the ashes of the classical Eustace, whose monu-
ment is, nevertheless, as great a disgrace to the arts, as
unworthy of the elegant taste of the man whose name and
memory it was intended to honour. An ungraceful female
figure is represented weeping over a tomb, supported on each
side by a stunted fluted column, below which you read :-t-

U. S. E.
JOANNES . CHETWODE . EUSTACE .

SACERD09 . ANGLIACUS .

FXDEI . CATHOLICAE . ILLIBATAE .

CULTOR . XNTERPRES . VINDEX .

Via . COHSTANS . SIHPLEX . DOCTUS . INNOCENS .

NEMINI . NOK . AFFABILIS .

NEMINI . NON . BENEVOLENS .

ITALIAE . SIBI . DELECTISSIMAE .

[Here figures of a chalice and wafer intervene.]

HOSPES . ITERUM . INVESTIGATOR .

FEBRE . CORREPTUS . NEAPOLT .

PATRIAE . FLEBILIS . St7IS . PLEBILIOR .

AD . DEVIC . REDENTORXM .

SPE . PAVXDA . ACCBSSURV9 .

OBIIT . KALEND. AUG.
ANNO . SACRO . M.D.CCCXV .
AETAT. SUAE . LIIII .
R . I . P .

244 SANNAZARO'S TOMB — GROTTO OF POSILIPO.

The Church of Santa Maria del Prato, again, con-
tains the beautiful Mausoleum of the poet Sannazaro. The
stranger will find it on the road as he proceeds towards the
promontory of Posilipo. Over a sarcophagus, you see a boat
of this celebrated writer of piscatory eclogues, with his name
underneath, ^^ Actius Sincerus." Below the sarcophagus
there is a fine bas-relief representing Calliope sikging to
HER Lyse, while Neptune listens : on one side, Pan sits with
his pipe ; and on the other, you see a satyr bound to a tree.

The epitaph appropriating the tomb runs thus :

DA . SACRO . CINERE . FLORES.

HIC . ILLE . MARONI .

SINCERUS . MUSA . PROXIMUS .

UT . TUHULO.

VIX • AN. LZXII . OBfIT . H.D.ZXX.

Two fine statues of Apollo and Minerva are placed on
each side of the sacrophagus ; but lest such personages should
be thought to profane the sanctuary of a church, the names of
David and Judith have been given to them.

On a plinth at the bottom you read the initials of the
sculptor: —

F. 10. AUG. FLO. OR. S.FA.

Not far from the church of Santa Maria you come to the
Tomb of Virgil. It is immediately over the entrance to the
grotto of Posilipo, to which you descend firom the garden of
St. Severin by several ranges of steps. It is a plain vault,
with ten niches in the interior for sepulchral urns, con-
structed of the same pseudo-volcanic material which forms
the promontory on whose base it stands. From a loggia, in
another part of the garden, the cicerone of the tomb shews a
fine point of view.

Descending from the garden, you come to the celebrated
tunnel known by the name of the Grotto of Posilipo. It
is 361 toises in length, and is thought to be one of the stu-
pendens works of LucuUus. There is a passage in Seneca
which makes it probable that in his time this subterraneous
passage was only practicable for foot-passengers. It was

LAKE OF AGNANO — GROTTA DEL CANE. 245

Alphonso the First .who widened it to its present dimensions,
so that now two carriages may readily pass abreast.

The road through the grotto is that to Pozzupli and BaisB,
where, half-way to the former, a by-way strikes off to the
right from the valley of Bagnuoli, leading to the Lake of
AoNAKO. This is an immense circular basin, describing the
ontlines of an ancient volcano, which had existed long prior
to the remotest periods of tradition. Its fires even How are
not extinguished, as the Suditorio di San Germako, the
well-known Grotta del Cane, and the Pisciarelli, still
evince. The first is an excavation in the side of the hill, and
divided into compartments, the innermost naturally being the
hottest. It is in these that patients submit to a natural vapour-
bath : they nndress in the outer, and, putting on a flannel
covering, they enter the inner compartment, where benches
are cut out of the soil to repose upon ; but whether these stufe
possess superior advantages to what can be obtained without
goii^ so iar from home, seems very questionable : I know of
no physical reason for the preference. The effects of the
Grotta del Cane, again, are too well known to need repetition :
it is sensibly warmer than the atmosphere. I witnessed the
usual experiment on the dog, but they do not now throw the
animal into the neighbouring lake, in order to recover it;
indeed, if they did, the dog must inevitably be drowned ; for
at first coming out of the cave he is wholly senseless and
motionless : recovering by degrees, he breathes convulsively ;
and when he is able to stand on his legs, he reels about like
one drunk. I tried to fire off a pistol with a flint, but failed ;
but one with a percussion lock and cap went off instantly. It
is a curious phenomenon to see the stream of white smoke,
which flows out of the cavern when the door is opened, de-
scending towards the water. The gas is quite visible, from the
quantity of steam it holds dissolved ; and the line of demarca-
tion, separating it from the purer air above, is distinctly appa-
rent, with its surface fluctuating to and firo, like waves of water.

Following the road which leads to the left, you traverse a flat
space of ground forming a valley in the crater ; and what was
once a cauldron of boiling lava is now a luxuriant garden,

246 THE PISCIARELLI THE GULF OF BAI£.

planted with frait^trees and Yines, which climb from branch to
branch, and stretch in festoons from tree to tree ; in the midst
of which the traveller will find an osteria, some not bad wine,
aiid a guide for the Pisciarelli. The way leads throagh a
vermicalar path, wormed out of the rock by a pseudo-Yolcanic
action, which still goes on, when you arriye at a spring of
hot water, which bubbles up from below. The soil all around
is hot, tmd you sometimes are not aware of the circomstance
until a painful burning sensation pierces the feet. In escha-
rotic cavities, you perceive considerable quantities of sal
ammoniac and alum mixed together, and through tabular
apertures around steaming vapours ascend, coating their
mouths with minute crystals of sulphur. The rock here is
limestone, beautifully Variegated in colour by the sulphureous
exhalations that have passed through it. I may observe, fay
the way, that the coincidence of the presence of limestone
with the production of native sulphur, has struck me as
singular on more occasions than one, although our present
knowledge of chemistry does not warrant a surmise that is
apt to suggest itself from a connexion so constant as almost
to seem inseparable. The grand natural manufactoiy of the
latter, of which we are presently to speak, is seated in the
midst of limestone in a state of slow combustion. Afiter
having my feet toasted at the Pisciarelli on as hot a day as I
had yet felt at Naples, I clambered up the steep rocks that
separate the Pisciarelli from the Sdfatara. On reaching the
summit, you have a commanding view of the scenery around,
— of Pozzuoli and Baice, and its gulf, in regarding which you
ask of every ruined monument, as it successively catches your
eye, where are those gay fleets that once covered the bay with
sails of purple, waving pennants, and masts garlanded with
flowers, as the elite of Rome*s noblesse forsook the peaoefid
bosom of the gulf to crowd the theatres with their presence ?
Where are Hortensius' house, his fish-ponds, his eels and
lampreys, for which, if a favourite died, this great orator and
otherwise great man would weep for several days ? You look
around in vain for the country-seats of Marius, of Pompey,
of Csesar ; and, save a few bricks which the mortar still keeps

THE SOLFATARA — PSEUDO-VOLCANIC ACTION. 247

together, of Cicero's Academy, and the ruins of the Temples
of Venus, of Diana, and Mercury, you see, as it were, but
the crumbs of a banquet !

From this spot, which is covered with vines, I descended
to the SoLFATARA. This is a large circular pit, situated high
up on the side of the hill facing the sea, and over the town
of Pozzuoli, and is usually described as the crater of a volcano.
This is quite an error, assumed, as it has been, from its form.
Volcanic combustion, as we shall see better by and by, always
tends to act in a circle, and it does so necessarily, even when
least significant in its operation. Combustion, any how excited,
commencing at a point, becomes a centre, and inasmuch as
the circumjacent material is homogeneous, the sphere of its
action will be by so much the more regular. Of this nature
is the Solfatara, and its origin and present state is the same
as the less conspicuous, but precisely similar actions, which
we observed at the Pisciarelli. I conceive that, when the
volcano of Agnano had exhausted itself, and when its sides
had become too thin to sustain their own weight, the walls
fell in as the final catastrophe, and extinguished the main
combustion. Notwithstanding this event, the combustion on
the outskirts still continued, and has continued through ages,
from the citpability of the surrounding matter to support its
own fires, up to the present day. Of this description the
Solfatara is a remnant, as well as the other sources of heat
still exhibited at the Suditorio, Ghx)tia, and Pisciarelli, on
other parts of the margin of the feUen crater.

The Solfatara was the Temple of Vulcan of the ancients,
underneath which the poets feigned the Titans lay buried,
and that the fiimes which proceed from it were occasioned by
their writhings. A late Neapolitan writer has broached a
still more extraordinary idea, in seriously undertaking to
prove it to be one of the mouths of hell ! The common people
in the neighbourhood believe it to be the place of purgatory ;
and they will tell you, that on Sundays certain dark-coloured
birds, of an unknown species, are to be seen issuing out of it,
which they believe are the liberated souls of sinners now
purified. When within the pseudo-crater of the Sol&tara,

248 POZZUOLI THE AMPHITHEATRE.

on stamping on the ground with your foot, a hollow aoand
proceeds from below, and in some places you hear a noise
like boiling water. Lilliputian volcanoes may be made by
obstructing the exit of the steam proceeding from apertures
in the scorified soil, by covering them up with the naturally
slaked limestone around, when a volcanic eruption in minia-
ture will take place. These fuming orifices produce sulphur,
alum, and sal ammoniac, in abundance. The sulphur is held
dissolved by sulphuretted hydrogen, which, issuing at a tern*
peraturo above 160^ of Fahrenheit, on coming in contact with
the air, deposits the sulphur on the tu&ns matter around the
crovice by which it escapes.

On descending from the Solfatara towards Pozzuoli, there
is an osteria to the left, in the garden belonging to which
wero discovered, some time ago, two lai^e and beautiful
Sarcophagi, — one containing the bones of a male adult, the
other those apparently of a young female : they aro shewn to
visitors. As you approach Pozzuoli, you find the ruins of an
Amphithbatre in an orchard to the right : the arcades still
remain, and the arena is planted with vines, com, and fruit*
trees. The material of which it is built is a volcanic cinder.
When perfect, its length was 172 feet, and breadth 82, and
was said to have been able to accommodate 45,000 spectators.
It was in the arena of this amphitheatre, according to the
legend, that St. Januarius was exposed to the wild beasts,
when he escaped as scathless as did Daniel of old on a similar
occasion, the animals falling prostrate before him. In one of
the arcades of the amphitheatre there is a chapel o(msecrated
to commemorate the miracle.

I proceeded onward to Pozzuoli. This is the ancient
Puteoli of the Romans, and was originaUy built by the Greeks
in the time of Tarquin the Proud, about the end of the sixty-
second olympiad. It was named Diceearchia by its founders ;
but when colonised by the Romans, after the defeat of Han-
nibal at Capua, being found scantily supplied with water,
the Romans dug a number of wells in its neighbourhood, and
hence called it Puteoli — a derivative it still retains in the
modem name of Pozzuoli.

THE MOLE ST. PAUL — MONTE NUOVO. 249

Pozzaoli is a poor town, occupied chiefly by fishermen and
ciceroni, who guide strangers to the places of interest in the
Yidnity. There are still considerable remains of the Moles
Puteohma yet standing. This, as the traveller may know^
was intended for a bridge to cross from Puteoli to BaisB,
begun by Caligula, but never finished. The distance it was
meant to traverse is between three and four miles : many of
the piers are yet above water, and others have sunk under its
level : they are built of the Pozzuolana stone of the neigh-
bourhood, well known for its peculiar quality of hardening
under water ; so that whilst the buildings that were erected
on land of the same material have crumbled to dust by ex-
posure to the atmosphere, these piles have become more
indurated by submersion.

Pozzuoli was also called Colonia Augusta. Augustus had
a temple here, which is now a church, and dedicated to Saint
Proculo. It is said to contain the body of St. Patrobas, one
of the seventy-two disciples spoken of by St. Paul in the 1 6th
chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, and it claims the still
greater distinction of being the first church which received
the light of the gospel; for it was in this pagan temple that
St. Paul conversed of his apostolic mission, during the seven
days he remained here with the brethren, in his voyage from
Syracuse to Rome ; for which see the 28th chapter of the
Acts.

4

From this place it is usual to take a guide, who conducts
the traveller, shewing him the remains of the Temple of
Jupiter Sbrapib, of Cicero's Villa, where he wrote his
Queestiones Academics,* Monte Nuovo, the Lucrine Lake,
Lake Avernus, and the many other interesting antique ruins
on the promontory of Misena, fi>r which I must refer to the
Appendix.

Monte Nuovo rose out of the earth after the terrible earth-
quakes that prevailed here in 1638, which changed the entire
lace of the neighbouring country, and caused even the sea

* So called from his villa being built after the maoner of the Academy at
Athens.

250 LAKE AVERN'US TEMPLE OF APOLLO CUM.E.

to retire two hundred paces within its bounds, while Lake
Lucrine was reduced to little better than a pool. The tra-
veller, on ascending to the top of Monte Nuovo, will tind a
cavity in the form of a crater : this cup formerly contained
water; and at its hase he will observe black cindei-s, ditierent
from anv volcanic matter m the vicinity; both of which cir-
cunl^tances I shall have occasion to allude to hereafter. Lake
Avernus is a beautiful object, and its whilome '\f(iuces fjfnirt-
o!( /fft's'^ arc now as fratrrant as the Ijreath of morninjr. The
day I visited it was >onibre, toniiip; down sensation to a key
favourable to the enjoyment of romantic impressions. The
steep side of the crater threw its shadow into the water ; the
tenij^le by its Hiaririn added the picturesque to the scene; and
the (irotio of tiie Sil)yl called up recollections and associa-
tion> of earlv l>ovliuod, tlirowinir the mind into the haunts of
fanev, where the iuiaiiinatiou dej)icte(], in its own guise, the
scene that wa- now jjel'oie me. The temple is said to be that
of Apollo. The (irotto of the Sibyl, again, has been thought
by some to have been a subterranean i)assaij:e from Lake
Avernus to Cumvv : but even on this suj^position it is ditKcult
to surmise its ])urpose. The proper Sibyl's Cave is at Cumtp,
on the diclivitv of a hill wliich faces the east: its front is of
nuii'ble, and its interior is the same now as described bv
ancient writers. The profane superstition of modern times
ha< dared to assert, that it wa^ by this sul 'terraneous passage
our Saviour returned from hell, accompanied by the patri-
archs. Cumu" itstlf atiorded a retreat and a tond3 to Tarquin
the Proud, last kinir o( ancient Rome ; but it was in ruin
c\en in the time of J uvuial — '" vacua Cuma."

It was now time to retrace my steps back to Naples; but
as 1 ca-^t a nariinL;- glance on Iniiiv and the scenerv around,
\ coidd not lulp retUeiini:' on the >ti*ange vicissitudes to
which cxerv thinLT >nhiunafv is >ul>iect. BaiiV, once the
resort o( nil that ».i> ilistiui^iuslud for rank, or fame, or
fortune, in l\i>mo.x\hat i-* ii uvnv ?- -still, and foi'gotten, and
desertinl as iiio>c \oK\mot><. \\\c >\ov\ o{ whose former ex-
istence >>ouKl be h>leut\l \o »iih incredulity by the few
wretched beinL;> »lu> uv^w bi;;ld ilu;r liuts in their cratei>!

SUNRISE — THE CAMANDOLINE HILL. 251

The gay, loxurioas BaisB is now levelled with volcanic dust
and ashes ; its shores are dreary and deserted ; all its noble
stmctares sunk into the earth, or swallowed up by the sea ;
and this haven of health is now changed into a laboratory of
pestilential exhalations ! How different, I thought, from the
time when those temples were entire — when they sacrificed to
Mercury — when the festivals and mysteries of Venus were
celebrated —when all those thermse and snditoria, those places
of health and delight, were incessantly frequented ! Day was
spent amidst scenes of gorgeous pageantry, and evening
opened her lap of fresh pleasures ; and while the distin-
guished and the gay resorted to the theatres, love and beauty
sought the shades of retirement. Then, in such a place,
amidst such scenes, at evening's hour — the most corrupting
hour of all, when all was abandoned to voluptuousness,* —
then I can conceive it was indeed a reproach for Cicero to
have a country-house at Baies !

Not satisfied with the excursive glance I had had of the
volcanic wreck all around Naples, I rose this morning before
day-light, in order to get to the top of the hill on which the
Camandoline convent stands. The moon was yet up, and
shed a glimmering light through a veil of hazy clouds that
encompassed it, but the morning was otherwise fine. The
city was sunk into stillest slumber, and the breeze from the
sea blew so gentle, that it seemed as the melodious breathings
of Nature asleep. I had threaded my way through the Grrotto
of Posilipo, and got somewhat on the ascent, when the sun
was preparing to rise from his watery bed, and separate the
sea from the sky ; the heavens appeared to rise with him, an4
the waves began to fall back on the horizon, like the petal of
an awakening convolvulus. Rays of gold shot out on all
sides, — now sparkling among the waves that bathe the feet
of Capri, and Procida, and Ischia — now driving a-field the
mists of the new-born mom as a shepherd does his flock,
when reaching the march-stone which limits the domain of
heaven and ocean, ** he pillows his chin upon an orient
wave," shedding his brightest rays on Pozzuoli, on Baiae, and
the gulf that intervenes, on the Elysian fields, and on the

252 FORM OF VOLCANIC ACTION.

rains of the aeven cities which once flourished, like as many
may-flowers, on its shores. Often turning back to note the
matin-hymn of awakening Nature — for the development
of her glories is of itself a mute adoration of their Creator —
I gained the top of the mountain, when my train of observa-
tion took a difierent pursuit.

I have before made the remark, that volcanic action, in
the state of combustion, has a constant tendency to operate in a
circle ;* and from this point of view the justness of the obser-
vation is manifested. Cast your regards around, and circles
and segments of circles are the only forms which present
themselves within the eye's scope. The outermost which you
observe is formed by Nisida, the promontory of Posilipo, the
hill On which I stood, Monte Barbaro, and terminates in
Cape Misenum. Within this is another circle or basin, of a
still more defined form — I mean the range of hills which
encloses the lake of Agnano, between which and the outer
circle there is a valley a quarter of a mile in breadth, en-
compassing the lake like the moat of a fortification. You
perceive the same form of action preserved, and proceeding,
in the Solfatara. Lake Avemus presents another centre of
former volcanic operations ; and segments of the same kind
may be traced between the promontories of Misenum and
Minerva, and that of Posilipo, the castle of St. Elmo, and
the hill (Chiatamone) which formerly joined the palace of
LucuUus with the dry land. From the castle of St. Elmo
you see the same circular form of action, extending to the
Capo di Monte. When, it may be asked, did these gigantic
convulsions happen — convulsions that must have rendered
the country to a great distance around uninhabitable, of
which no tradition remains to hand down the recollection,
and from whose efiects no data can be deduced of the age in
which they occurred? To say, " when chaos was a boy,"
is all that surmise can advance towards solving the question.

Vesuvius has yet to tell its own tale, for at present it
constitutes its own centre. Indeed, the matter of combustion

* This fact may be seen illustrated and confirmed by the '* Curie Pky^
tique de la Cantpanie^** par S. Breislake.

MONTE SPINA — POMPEII. 258

in all the places we have named, seems to have nearly ex-
hausted itself, and the subterranean fire has migrated to a
fresh position (Vesuvius), where its pabulum still exists in
abundance.

The current of the foregoing observations had led me on
to Pozzuoli ; and returning by the direct road to Naples, the
traTeller will observe a high hill to the left (Monte Spina),
about half a mile on the way, composed of a material differing
from any he has yet seen. It seemed to me to be a petro-
mlicious lithoid lava, thickly disseminated with large crystals
of glassy felspar, manifesting little or no scorification in its
appearance. This huge mass of rock stands isolated, and
appears to have been thrown up from a great depth by some
subterraneous conm:iotion, of which no tradition is extant ;
and by the unscorified and crystalline texture it presents, it
must have cooled under enormous pressure.* They quarry
it for building the rampart on the borderii^ beach, for which,
by reason of its great hardness, it seems particularly well
adapted.

Nisida and Ischia are both volcanic islands: Capri, I
was told, for I did not visit it, is of limestone, similar to that
of the neighbouring Apennines.

POMPEII.

My next excursion was to Pompeii; but this is a place
which must be seen, for no description can convey any accu-
rate notion of it.f In my way I descended to view the ex-
cavations of Herculaneum, and here again I roust refer the
traveller to his personal observation. Chance, which, with
the genius of science, has the pririlege of drawii^ aside the
veil of nature, discovered the site of this subterraneous city,

* The perfect ciystaUine stnictuie of this volcanic rock may fairly be
adduced as ao analogous argument for the igneous origin of granite ; so
also may the tiachyte porphyry of the Euganean range, hereafter to be
spoken of.

t See the catalogue for a verbal enumeration of its more remarkable
ruins.

25 i FIRST ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS.

of which hijitory only preserved the record of the catastrophe

that ontombed it.*

The event which destroyed Pompeii is well known. Dion
and riiny have recorded it. In the eruption of Vesuvius,
wliich happened in the reign of Titus, on a sudden a blast of
wind arose, loosened a part of the ashes which covered the
sunnnit of the mountain, and, carried away in whirlwinds,
buried Pompeii in suffocating dust. It has been a question
with antiipiaries, whether this eruption was the first of Ve-
suvius : and the query, by general assent, seems now to be
>ettled in the negative, from the single circumstance of the
streets t^f Pompeii being found paved with lava. But this is
a circumstance, I must confess, which has no such conclusive
>\ eight with me, since it was quite easy for its inhabitants to
procure as nmcli as they might require from the hill in the
neighbourliood of Pozzuoli, of which we have already spoken ;
and if eni]nions hrid preceded the one in question, it is alto*
LTCther un;iccoinital>le, consideriuii' the intelliixence of the aire,
how the writers of that period should have lost all memorial
oi\ or neulected to record, such momentous and strikinir
events.

The feelings excited by a visit to Pompeii are strange and
undeiinaMe — pleasing, yet sad ; wliere, as you walk, in
epitaj)hic mood, from temple to temple and from house to
hou>e, you e\}H\'t at every corner of a street to be met by
the niaiies of some property, and reproved for trespassing on
their privacy.

As 1 intended to sleep at the Hermitage on Vesuvius
the same night, I tore myself away from this singular ceme-
teiy, wliere that became the tomb which had been the abode
of its iiduibitant; and, as was not unusual with me on similar
occasions, I found, too late, that 1 had tarried too long. It
was ^ettiuii' very dark as I bei:an to ascend the mountain,
aiul I shortly repented me of not having remained at Portici
until the morning. After I had got a good way up, I found

* TIjo tlioatro of Uerculancum is ihc only jart yet excavated. The palace
at Poiiici (losoivi's a visit iVoin the stranger; but as the king was residing
there while 1 reniained at Naples, this prevented my seeing it.

ASCENT TO THE HERMITAGE. 255

that a man had been follofwiog me ; and when he oreilook
me, he was pressing in his offers to be my goide : but
thinking he might purposely mislead me from the path into
danger, I declined his services. He was not, however, to be re-
pulsed by a civil denial ; and now his nrgen^^ and pertinacity
rousing my suspicion, I was obliged to threaten him with
something more impressive than words, if he did not instantly
go about his business. I was alone ; the place was solitary ;
and as it was now quite dark, I thought it better to confide
to any portion of instinct there might be latent within me,
than trust to one who might be encouraged by place, time,
and circumstance, to watch his opportunity to smite me. I
still continued onward, and shortly found myself bewildered
in a stream of lava. I wandered about, not knowing where,
for full two hours, and became so tired, that I had made up
my mind to pass the night in the first Cyclopean cavern I
should find ; when, somehow or other, I had waded out of the
stream, after many a bruise and tumble, and fi>und myself
unexpectedly in front of the Hermitage. Listening at the
door, to ascertain if I was right, I heard the hermit and his
acolyte at their midnight devotions ; so, knocking long and
loud, it was with difficulty I obtained admission. The good
old man, however, soon made me as comfortable as he could,
by placing some bread, wine, and salami before me, and
afterwards kindly busied himself in arranging me a bed on a
cane sofa which stood in the room. My difficulties being
over, I set about enjoying myself: the salami I thought
delicious, and the lacrime brought tears of joy into my eyes.
Hard as my couch promised to be, I saw cause to felicitate
myself on the difference betwixt this and roosting among
lava, with nothing but cold cinders for supper ; and in this
humour I opened the album of the place in search of
pastime.

There are various ways of judging of men and manners,
and sometimes an album gives one a wrinkle. Ordinary,
conmiontensical people, in inscribing their names fer the
edification of posterity, for the most part content themselves
with simply banding down their autograph to coming ages,

256 THE HBRMITilOB — THE ALBUV.

that ftiture Layatera may decipher their characters bj the
diagnoBtice therein developed ; whilst otfaersy again, are meve
obligingly copioas in their sketches of themselves ; of wbkh
latter description I selected- the following, and those the moat
nationally characteristic :- r-

tt i^th gber 1825.

" Mr. Cheeks on his ass with his two bow-wows.*'

** Thomas 01-^r has ass ended Mount Vesnyioa tor the
fourth time.

*' Mr. and Mrs. 01 — h — m had the plesure of passing this
hermitage the 12th Oct. 1825, and made a plesant breech-
fast on the plateform.''

Above Mr. Cheeks you read : —

'' Itaque etiam nos inter coronata et oomnta capita ^leii«>
deamus in sacculum saceulamm.

** H. A. Mekgltgh, LnsanuB."

Then followed a French one, where, in recording the
visit of the party, '' toutes les divinites de la concorde et de
la paix furent invoquees, et qui furent tr^s favorable."

And, lastly, came —

" Dr. Charles W. Ch— nc— y, Boston, U. S. Visited Vesa-
vius— went entirely round the crater — trod on burning
sulphur — put the mountain in commotion — and returned
to this place without difficulty or danger, Sept. 27, 1826.**

After this, said I, as I shut the book, Shadrach, Meshach,
and Abed-nego, hide your diminished heads!

By daylight next morning I started for the cone, with the
determination to find a way for myself to its summit, horn a.
persuasion that the one used by the guides had long ago been
gleaned of every volcanic specimen worth picking up.' '' Viam
aut inveniam aut faciam," said I, repeating my own motto,
as I gave directions to my steps to lead me up the steep.

ASCENT TO THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS. 257

Sueoeifflve emptions have divided the moiintain into two
parts, Moote Somma and Vesuvias proper — the former re-
taining its altitude entire by being now separated from the
immediate sphere of the volcanie action. After viewing the
scorified and precipitous face of the Somma, I crossed a
stream of lava which separates them, and began to ascend
the cone. This the traveller will find a laborious under-
taking, fix>m the steepness of the acclivity, and the loose
fiioting which the a^es afibrd, so that he slides back on an
average almost as much as he ascends, thus more than
douUing the height and distance to be surmounted before
he attains the edge of the crater. Sitting down to rest
myself, and pack away the specimens I had already collected,
a singular phenomenon presented itself at my feet. Below
me there was an irregular mound of erupted matter, which
began to throw out volumes of dense steam, that crept up the
side of'^the cone in the direction I sat, and I shortly found
myself enveloped in a doud of vapour so copious and dense,
that I could not see but indistinctly the distance of a yard or
two. I remained in this situation for about ten minutes,
until it had passed over my head, before the objects below
reappeared. This cloud had no perceptible smell, but seemed
to consist wholly of the steam of water. I watched it curl to
the crater's edge, when, quitting this, it hovered over the
truncated apex of the cone in the manner of a baldacchino.
I followed it as fast as I could, and stood under its canopy
when contemplating the cavity of the crater. And here I
must leave the traveller to his own reflections, whilst his
imagination dives down to the abyss of molten matter whence
issue those exhalations, or, casting his eye towards Pompeii
and Herculaneum, he may muse on catastrophes bygone, or of
those which are still likely to recur.

The first recorded eruption of Vesuvius happened in the
79th year of the Christian era, in the reign of Titus ; for an
account of which I refer the reader to the ancient writers
who have described it. I have already mentioned the reasons
for inducing me to adhere to the opinion that this was the
first eruption of the mountain. Subsequent writers have

8

2j8 phenomena of a volcanic eruption.

1»lH'11 0([ually particular in their accounts of several eruptions
which have taken phice since. In all of these the eruption
has been described as preceded by dreadful hollow noises,
and eartlicjuakes, lasting for a longer or shorter time ; the
wells in the neiiihbourhood are observed to sink and become
di y, and even the sea retires from the coast. Tliese pre-
cursory phenomena are followed by an abundant issue of
white t\iuies, forming clouds, which Sir William Hamilton,
in speaking of the eruption that occurred in 1779, compares
to bales of cotton. These were piled over the mouth of the
crater, exceedin^c bv four times the hei<i:ht of the mountain.
A\'ht'n the eruption begins, stones are first ejected : those
Ivinii* at tlie ])ottuni of the crater, and forminsT the vault of
the furnace, are necessarilv the first thrown out ; the lava
next follows; and, lastly, an eruption of ashes, so great as
frequently to darken the air, usually puts an end to the
terrific scene. Other eruptions, again, are chiefly aqueous
and nuuldv. Humboldt describes certain volcanoes in the
Andes as ejecting nothing else ; and, what is still more
siniiular, that fish are often found thrown out with the
nuid, evincinir the subterranean source whence the water is
derived.* In one eruption of Cotopaxi the quantity of water
ejected was so prodigious that it swept away all before it to
a distance of eighty miles. The eruption of Vesuvius which
buried Herculaneuni was accompanied by a profuse eructa-
tion of water, that cemented the volcanic dust into mud, which
time and pressure have indurated into tufa and pozzuolana;
and atrain in 1630, Portici and Torre del Greco were de-
stroyed bv a torrent of boiliny; water and lava.

It is a fact worthv of remark, that all volcanoes which con-
tinue for any lenirth of time in action are to be found in the
vicinity of a plentiful supply of water. Most of them arc
situated on islands, or near the sea-shore ; and those that are

* TlkSL' fi>li arc a species of i'/;//( AhAs, iianied C}iclopum by Humboldt
tioin tlu'ir habitat ; but lliey do not difler from tliose found in the streams of
tlio country. The fact gives us a stupendous idea of the suction going on in
tlio interior of the volcanic abyss, when \vc vellect upon the height at which
ihi'V ari- dis>;t>ri;cd.

CONCOMITANCY OF LIMESTONE AND WATER. 269

inland, as the volcanoes of the Andes, are found to commu-
nicate with vast caverns of water and underground rivers.
Indeed, those in Peru and Quito are remarkable for throw-
ing out scarce any thing save mud and water. This mud is
called moya ; and, when in South America, I saw some of it
so combustible as to be used for fuel by the inhabitants.

Water acted upon by fire is, in my opinion, the moving
power in all volcanic eruptions — an opinion which I shall
endeavour to sustain in the sequel by facts both existent and
analogous.

One curious circumstance is, that, as far as I have seen
or been able to ascertain, volcanoes almost invariably exist in
mountains consisting of limestone and in limestone ranges.*
Vesuvius is a limestone mountain, the same as the neigh*
bouring Apennines ; ^tna has a similar basis ; and the
volcanic range in the Andes consists of the same rock.i-
Now, limestone districts have also this peculiarity, that they
abound with water, and are often the seats of hot springs*
Derbyshire, in our own country, exemplifies the first fact;
the Pontine Marshes afibrd another abundant illustration;
we have seen it in copious and fuming streams at San
Filippi and at Aix, and in cold torrents from under the
limestone of Vaudnse. The same fact is to be observed in
the limestone range of the Jura, on the shores of the lake of
Nenfchatel, where rivers are to be seen of only a few hundred
yards in length, bursting into life finom under a mountain, and,
more short-lived even than the ephemeron, becoming extinct
almost as soon as bom ; running their rapid and short course
of existence to be swallowed up and lost in the general waters
of the lake. Humboldt mentions, in his *' Political History of

* The only exception to this general fact, that I am aware of, is to be
found in the chain of mountains on which the Puys in Auverfl;ne are situated ;
but this apparently anomalous circumstance will be attempted to be explained
when noticing the basaltic hills about Bolca.

f I was shewn, when in New Holland, by my respected and distinguished
friend Mr. M'Leay, the colonial secretary, specimens from the pseudo-
volcano by the Hunter river. The rock was limntone, incrusted with
crystab of sulphur, sal ammonia, and alum.

'2G0 LIME AND WATER ESSENTIAL.

New Spnin/* that there exi-r«, between the villages of Chama-
ra-apa, IMataniilo, aii-l Tchuiloioi>ec, in the bosom of calca-
reous inuiMtaiii*, a <it rit"= of cavern? and natural galleries,
from which Wdter issues in profa-ion, and that subterraneous
river>, similar to th-se in Derbyshire, traverse those scalleries,
coiiimunicatin'j one with another. At Poole's Hole, near
Buxton, there is a vast cavern in the limestone rock, with a
stream of water running throuirh it. Of a similar nature is
the stupendous cavern at Castleton, which is crossed by four
subterraneous streams. In several parts of the Malpays,
also, fjreat masses of water are heard to run in the direction
from ea^t to west — the direction of the volcanic range of the
Anahiiac."^ Another striking coincidence is, that in all ex-
tinct volcanoes water is found. The lake of Bolsena exem-
plifies this circumstance on a colossal scale ; the little cup on
Radicofani, hiirh as it stands above contiguous levels, is
nevertheless filled with water ; the beautiful lakes of Albano
and Nemi attest the same unvarying phenomenon, as well as
those of Agnano and Avernus, not excepting the volcanic
goblet on Monte Xnovo. Can the limestone in slaking,f
when stronalv urtred bv heat, and rendered thirsty by torre-
faction, direct the current of water towards the centre of
igneous action, and thus add to the combustion instead of
<|uenching it ? We are told that the volcano in the island
of Tanna first took fire after great lains, and ceased only
when the water that had fallen seemed to be exhausted.

* \'olcanic action, under ground, seems to proceed in a straight line —
tlial of the telluric electric meridian. There is a parallel or narrow zone of
ihis description, of great elevation, between 18° .^9' and 19* 12' N., in which
all the summits of the Anahuac rising above the region of perpetual snow
are situated. The^e rt^gions are cither volcanoes which still continue to burn,
or mountains which, from their form, as well as from the nature of their
rocks, Humboldt thinks, have, in all probability, been the seat and result of
volcanic action. The range of volcanic islands from the Azores, including
Porto Santo, Madeira, the Canaries, and Cape de \'erd, to Ascension,
exemplify the same fact : so do the Puys in Auvergne.

t It is mentioned of one eruption of /lltna, that it covered a space of
fifty leagues in circumference, and twelve feet in thickness, with cuicarcoiis
sand.

IGNAQUEOUS THEORY OF THE EARTH. 261

TUb supposition would acoount fer the sinking and drying
np of wells in the vicinity of Tolcanoes, and for the white
douds of steam which proceed more or less at all times from
them. In the *^ Bulletin de la Society de Geographic" for
November 1829, an acoount is given of a volcanic eruption
proceeding from a mountain in Java ; and from the pheno^
mena preceding it, it was evident that it had communicated
with a neighbouring river three months before the eruption
took place ; when hot mud, which was thrown to a distance
of ten leagues, was the first matter ejected. And, lastly, I
may add, that there cannot be a doubt of the communication
which Mount ^tna has with the sea. This fact was esti^
Uished by what occurred in the great eruption of 1761, when
a stream of boiling scUt water continued to flow for a quarter
of an hour from the volcano, in quantity so vast as to get the
descriptive name of NUo H acqua*

When this planet was first launched into space, no notion
appears more feasible than that it was in the b^inning a
molten mass surrounded by matter less resistant of heat in
a gaseous form, each component of which having attractions
and repulsions imposed upon it the same as exist at present,
but separated and controlled by the power of heat, yet held
together as a whole by the fundamental law of attraction.
All matters easily evaporable took up positions round the
coitral mass, according to their respective gravities; and
among these, the waters now forming the ocean must have
been held in suspension. While the upper matters cooled
and condensed, still the elastic vapour immediately over the
molten surface was capable of sustaining the superincumbent
pressure, a fact whidi is easily imitated in miniature, by
dropping water on melted glass ; but, in proportion as the
heat diminished in intensity, the natural gravity of the water
would keep constantly tending to overcome the repulsive
force which upheld it. As the fused mass cooled by radiation,
its exterior surface would gain consistence, would emanate

"202 IGNAQlLOlb THKORY OF THE KARTII.

less heat, and les>einnfr bv dei^rees the elasticity which floated
the supernatant ocean, the waters would at length assume
their proper place, and tiow on the surface of the cousoli-
(latt d crust.

From the hetero2:eneous nature of the matter forniiniir the
molten mass, chemical phenomena of all kinds would in
turn take ])lace, and tliese the more numerously as the mass
cooled. Natural aftinities, severed by the tumult, would
now beirin to act : and arrangements of gravity, at first incon-
gruously intermixed by the explosions of combustibles, would
settle down into order : and the globe, in time, would become
habitable for the lower classes of animal existence.

The entire glol)e, under the preceding view, must have
formed oriixinallv but one immense volcano ; and those that
at present exist, or have existed, are but the feeble scintil-
lations of its tlvinor end>ers. But while the more colossal
phenomena, which we have imagined to have existed, were
subsidin:^, others of enormous maijnitude would, for a lon<r
time, continue to operate, though diminishing in violence
and freijuency as lime advanced in years : states of eruptive
turbulence would more partially, and, at more distant in-
tervals, recur to disturb the natural arransrement which had
taken idace, and thus account for many of those irre«;ular
appearances which the surface of the earth presents. Com-
motions from below would raise up ranges of mountains
from the plain, or elevate them from the bottom of the
ocean :* thus blending tlie igneous and aqueous formations
toirether, and, bv channini*- from time to time the bed of the
ocean, would leave its formations drv, while it soucrht a new
level. If the u]>heavin<j: of the sid)marine strata was exten-
sive, and the degree of force equal and sinmltaneous through-
out, these strata, in nianv instances, would retain their
horizontal position, or decline verv slii^htlv from it. In the
opposite case, the disruption might place strata of aqueous
formation, which were formerly level, almost on their edi»*es :

* Dr. Hook conceived that all land liad l)ccn lai^cd from the bottom of
the sea by llu* powtr and agency of subterraneous {\\(^ — an idea, in my
opinion, unnecessarily extensive.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE THEORY. 263

shells and other marine remains would thus be placed where
it would otherwise be difficult to account for their elevated
poeitionSy and matters of pyrogenous origin be found piercing
materials of a very different formation from themselves.
Deposits indisputably of aqueous origin, which are so often
met with so many thousand feet above the present level of
the sea, are, by the foregoing supposition, very readily ac^
counted for; and the surplus oceans, which, according to
some geologists, have so often deluged the world, be got rid
of by an hypothesis less obnoxious to objections than that
which seeks out some vast cellar somewhere under ground,
to bottle off some thousand millions of cubic miles of water,
until a fresh deluge be wanted for the support of their
drenching system of cosmogony. We have had the world
drowned once, and that is quite enough to satisfy my hydro-
phobic taste.

I think there is abundant proof that fire and vast caverns
still exist at a great depth below the surface of the earth,
else how can we account for those earthquakes which are at
times felt simultaneously, extending to such distances ? On the
cessation of the eruption of Vesuvius which occurred towards
the end of December 1831, an earthquake took place at
the same instant, which extended along the whole chain of
the Apennines. In another, which happened in December
1760, earthquakes were felt for fifteen miles all around
Vesuvius, accompanied with unusual and terrific roarings of
the sea bordering its base. That this volcano has a sub-
terranean communication with the Solfatara, was proved by
flames bursting from the latter in the eruption of Vesuvius
in 1822. What else than a submarine volcano of prodigious
force and magnitude could have raised up a range of volcanic
islands stretching nearly in a straight line from Staffa by
the Azores to St. Helena? The island of Madeira, as well
as I could observe when there, presents no vestige of ever
having had a living volcano upon it, and yet it consists
mainly of basaltic lava, and had, consequently, been fused
at an enormous depth below the bed of the ocean, which
itself is of great depth all around the island, and close in

son ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE THEOBT.

shore. The island of Teneriife, viewed as a ^hole, is of a
similar nature ; for I coneeive that the yoleano known by tfie
name of the Peak has thrown out but very little lava, com-
paratively speaking, considering the extent of the island ;
and the same remark I believe to be applicable to the whole
suite of this volcanic range.

Several new islands have appeared within the recotd of
testimony. Seneca tells us that in his time die island of
Theresia arose all at once out of the sea ; and Pliny infoma
us of thirteen islands which emerged from the bottom of
the Mediterranean. Sir William Hamilum believes that the
island of Ischia issued from the same watery bed; Monte
Nuovo* still exists, to testify a similar event on the neigh-
bouring land : we all may remember die emerging, and after-
submersion, of the island Sabrina among the Azores ; and
another (Graham Island) rushed into existence only the other
day. Submarine earthquakes have been repeatedly noticed.
In that which was experienced on board the Volage, in the
bay of Callao (30th March, 1828), it is mentioned that a
hissing noise was heard in the water, as if a red-hot iron had
been plunged into it. An immense quantity of bubUes aitMe
to the surface, and the sea was covered with the bodies of

* Humboldt telU us, in his ^' Statistical Analysis of the iBtaDdancy of
Valladolid, in the kingdom of New Spain," that the volcano of JoruUa was
raised 1695 feet in one night from the surrounding plain; and Strabo relates,
that in the pluins in the neighbourhood of Methone, by the shores of the gulf
of Hetmione, a volcanic explosion prbduced a mountain of soorise, to which
be gives the piodigious height of seven stadia, which, computed by the Olym-
pic stadium, would amount to 4096 fset Bngliah.

In June 1765, the town of Rocco di Monte Piano, in the kingdom of
Naples, was swallowed up by the earth opening under it, and protruding a
great rock in its stead on the very spot where the town formerly stood, mark-
iDg, in monumental guise, its grave. This catastrophe took place so mea-
soredly, that five or six hundred of the inhabitants, who had Sed at the fint,
retmned with the hope of saving their more valuable eflbcts, aod were aM
lost.

From many of the small cones which encompass the sides of the volcano
of JoruUa, there issues a dense steam, the temperature of which was Ibuod to
be 202* of Fahrenheit, accompanied by a subterraneous noise, like that of a
fluid in ebullition.

ORIOm AND NATURE OF A VOLCANO. 88S

dead fish floating about. Before these pbenomena took place
the sea had been perfectly calm : during their continuance it
was so agitated, that the ship was observed to roll more than
a foot on each side under water ; and the chain-cable, on
being weighed, was found to have undei^ne a sort of fusion
for some part of its length.

It is a well-known fact, that shells are found as we rise to
the foot of great chains of mountains, and up their sides, even
to the height of many thousand feet. On Mont Perdu, the
highest of the Pyrenees, whole strata of sea^shells are found ;
Ulloa states, that he found marine shells on a mountain in
Peru more thui 14,000 feet above the level of the sea ; and
Saussure met with them on the Selenche and the Mole —
mountains whose elevation exceeds 7,000 feet. But a fact,
which is invariable, merits particular consideration, and that
is, that the strata at these elevations, instead of being hori*
zontal, as in the plains, are of various degrees of inclination,
and sometimes even vertical. Can probability produce a con-
comitant circumstance more corrobomtive of the supposition
that these strata were placed vertically by force acting from
below, and that the shells found imbedded in them were
formed when these strata were horizontal, at the bottom of
the ocean, and at an infinite depth below their present posi-
tion ? That the entire island of Sicily has been raised from
the bottom of the sea at some remote period, is rendered pro-
bable by the circumstance of a bed of sea-shells being found
by Dolomieu on Mtna, 2,400 feet from its base ; and from
iBtna being a volcano, the supposition is not improbable, that
the commotion which uplifted the island from the bottom of
the ocean ignited the mountain at the same time.

Chaptal thinks that volcanoes owe their origin to the
ignition of pyritous coal ; and, according to D'Aubuisson,
Werner, from studying the cont^uity of coal and basalt in the
mountains of Saxony, entertained a similar opinion. Now I
am inclined to think, from what I have before stated, that
volcanoes derive their ori^n from the combustion of lime,
and owe their phenomena to the generation of steam ; in
fiict, that a volcano is a natural steam-engine, and the cavity

266 THEORY OF VOLCANOES.

formed in the mountain constitutes its boiler. When the
steam that is generated can find ready vent, so as to escape by
sufficient apertures, then no commotion takes place ; but
should tljese by any accident be closed up — an event always
liable to happen from the falling in, and consequent displace-
ment, of the matter subject to the internal combustion, — or
should the steam be generated in increased and iucreasiug
quantity, and the apertures of escape, the safety-valves, not
enlarged proportionately, and by the augmentation of the
heat get more elasticity, and hence greater force, then the
phenomena of a volcano commence, — earthquakes are felt,
clouds of steam are seen to issue from crevices in the moun-
tain, or from the crater, if already formed ; at the same time,
the fire within, increasing in intensity, augments the genera-
tion of tlie confined steam, until the mountain, being no longer
capable of bearing the internal pressure, gives way at the
spot which offers the least resistance, and an explosion, or
eruption, as it is more usually termed, ensues. Nothing ex-
plains the projectile force of a volcano so well as the idea of
steam pent up and acted upon by the heat of a vast cauldron
of molten lava. Spallanzani ascertained, when at the summit
of Stromboli, looking down the crater, that the ascent of the
liquid lava, its explosions, and jets, were all occasioned by
the production and disengagement of elastic fluids. The pro-
jectile force with which volcanoes act is sometimes almost
incredibly prodigious. It has been computed, that to throw
up lava to the edge of the crater of the Pic of Teneriffe, merely
from a depth on a level with the ocean, would require a power
equivalent to one thousand times the pressure of the atmo-
sphere. Could any pliysical power else than that of steam
throw a column of lava ten thousand feet above the crater of
Vesuvius ? a fact certified bv Sir WilHam Hamilton ; and
this stupendous height is exclusive of the abyss whence it
was projected. Another circumstance not to be forgotten
is, that earthquakes invariably cease as soon as the eruption
commences. The pent-up and highly elastic vapour has now
found an issue, and no longer rages like a confined demon in
the caverns of the earth. It sometimes happens that the

NATURE OF EARTHQUAKES. 267

steam forces a yent through a more extended surface, and
then we have whole towns oyertumed, and movements of the
earth's surfisice which have been compared to the wares of
the sea. Such eyents are not uncommon , especially in Chili
and Peru. Tacitus, in his second book, makes mention of a
terrible earthquake that happened in Asia in the reign of
Tiberius, by which twelve famous cities were totally ruined.
It occurred in the night, and so suddenly, that the inhabit-
ants had no time to save themselves. The earth opened,
and the cities were swallowed up, high mountains sunk into
the earth, and plains were raised up into mountains, during
which terrible catastrophes it lightened tremendously, and
flames of fire issued from the earth.

During the period of the intensest heat of an eruption, the
water in immediate contact with the lava seems to get decom-
posed, as appears from the height the flame of the hydrogen
will ascend. The flame from Vesuvius in 1779 rose to a
height equal to three times that of the mountain itself, that
is, about eleven thousand feet. But I am afraid the general
reader is already tired of the subject ; and so we will have
done with it.

Only one word more. It appears to me that when a vol-
cano has nearly exhausted itself, the matter latterly ejected is
almost entirely pulverulent ; and of this nature I consider that
which forms the ancient promontories and mounds in the
vicinity of the extinct volcanoes of Agnano and Avemus, and
that it was the pulverulent matter latterly ejected, proceeding
from the last throes of the volcanoes of Castel-Grandolfo and
Nemi, which produced six out of the seven hills on which
Rome stands. We noticed the difference in the cinders form-
ing Monte Nuovo from the other volcanic d6bris around,
shewing its anterior origin, which, before it was uplifted from
its sunken bed, had been covered with the ordinary tufous
matter last ejected ; and the same observation suggested the
idea of the mountain of lava (Monte Spina) having been
elevated at some forgotten period in a similar manner.

A volcano in its decrepitude, when it has worn out it fires,
and has blown its sides so thin and lank that they can no

808 DESCENT FROM VBSU VI t7B-^ SCHEMES OF ROMANCE.

longer sopport their own weight, fells in upon itself; and now
assisted by the water within, thus extinguishes the lambent
and exhausted combustion, leaving to some dbtant genera-
tion to write its ** Ci-git," as one day will happen to the stiQ
athletic Vesuyius.

Cogitating thus, I began to descend the cone, with the
ashes slipping from under me at eyery step ; and as I kept
tumbling down on my back, I thought of my own *' Ci-git,*'
and of the little volcanoes of human passion which wear out
this puny frame of ours — for our feelings are as vapours, and
our bodies but dust and ashes.

Would that I were of a romantic cast of mind ! It b a
disposition that furnishes more than ought else dreams to gild
over the bare wretchedness of reality ; for the happiest scenes
of life are but the romance of a day. Such a happy turn of
mind, more certainly than the philosopher's stone, converts
dross into gold out of all sorts of matter, bends every event to
its own natural proclivity, and dresses in Fancy's gayest rain-
bow the dullest scenes of life : by its ready power of aasimila*
tion, it turns them all to its own gratification, and may be
numbered among the best caterers that contribute to aid tbe
fiction of human felicity. Fenelon remarked justly when
he said, that man is the happiest who believes himself so ;
and no occupation, or scheme, or pursuit, is too extravagant
which, in the alchymical hand of ronmnce, may not be con-
verted into a prolific source of enjoyment. Would that I
were romantic ; for there are a thousand projects I could
devise ! I would pass one year of my life, for example, seat-
ing myself daily on the sea^shore, and numbering the grains
of sand. Ghost of Cocker ! what service might I not render
to science, if, from such a nucleus, I could compute the pre*
cise number of atoms of which this globe is composed ! Were
I romantic, I'd pluck the rainbow from the skies, and joining
it with that belonging to our antipodes, make a grindstone of
it to polish opals upon, or weave it into a fillet for thy ftdr

brow, dearest C ! Were I romantic, I would have a

balloon made, set every rope-maker to work to spin me some
120,000 miles of cord, put two Fellows of the Royal

SCHEMES OF ROMANCE. 209

ia it, — with a good breeze they'd get half-way to the moon
by luncheon -time, there to float about like condors at the
•perihelion of their flight, until obeenred by some prying star-
gazer of earth's satellite. Hereupon two. lunar academicians
are despatched to hold a palaver ; but when the four sages
meet, not a word on either side can be made oat : a mutual
exchange takes place, a Lunatic Acad, for a Royal Fellow ;
the reering-line is hauled in, and, through the interpretation
of a Bedlamite, we might thus come to learn the whole his-
toiy and mystery of the moon I Were I romantic, I would
have a deep well dug to confine the reflection of the evening
star ; for, with the help of a gimlet, I could have a peep
down when I liked, and it would put me in mind of the soft-
beaming eye of her I love ! Were I romantic, I would that
on every leaflet and flower, on rock and cave, on every
precipice, over every water&ll, around each gay->tinted cloud,
among the stripes of the rainbow, in the centre of the thun-
derbolt, were written, <' O ! NatubbI" — what a grand
motto for contemplation ! Were I romantic, I would desire
a friend, when this corruptible shall have put on incorrup-
tion, to have engraved on my humble tomb, *' Here lies he
who was : passenger, bestow one tear to moisten the j^rass-
dad grave of the Rambler, now at hif travels' end — for tears
are the alms of the heart 1" Such are a few of the projects
which the romantic could suggest to advance science, to make
discoveries, to indulge his own sensibilities, to adore his God,
— and all this, too, without injuring his fellow-man, while
he improves his own benevolent feelings in their harmless
pursuit.

I had now visited, in the course of the five weeks I had
remained here, the many interesting objects which Naples
presents in such abundance and variety to the curiosity of the
stranger, and I was impatient to be gone. My health had
begun to suffer from the unwholesomeness of a volcanic
atmo^here: I felt ill, latterly, at Rome, from a torpor of
the liver coming on, which I expected to have walked oS;
but fiitigue, and the run I had for it at Sparanisi, aggravated
my ailments, and they ended in a confirmed jaundice two

270 QUIT NAPLES RETURN NORTHWARD.

days after my arrival at Naples. I contrived to get rid of
the outward and visible signs of my complaint in about ten
days, but still felt very unwell. Having, therefore, com-
pleted my rambles in and about Naples, I again endorsed
mvself with my knapsack to return to Rome. Were it not
for the y)estiferous soil of Naples, how much do its localities
excuse the enthusiasm their natural beauties call forth.
What fresh mornings ! what brilliant noons ! what calm and
silent evenings ! what lovely amorous nights ! what sparkling
stars ! what blue waves ! what deep azure skies ! — all so
fiivourable to love and so fatal to innocence ; presenting
scenery and inspiring sensations that detach the soul from all
tlijit is austere, and sink in the giddy whirlpool of forget-
ful ness those sobrieties that sustain Virtue on her throne ;
for how else could emperors and conquerors revel here in
disgraceful pleasures, whilst the rest of the world was drowned
in blood and tears bv their cruelties and devastations?

Of the beggars of Naples, I may observe that their im-
pudence is quite astounding. None here are ashamed to
beg : they w^alk in and out of the cift'S like so many do-
mestic animals ; and if they see you are determined not to
listen to their importunities, they will tap you on the elbow
to comj)el your attention, as if they were demanding a right.
Charity is a debt, it is true, but nobody likes to l>e so dunned
into it.

I got back to Terracina on the third evening from leaving
Naples, and, crossing the Pontine Marshes on the following
day, I slept at Tor-Treponte. On my way 1 fell in with a
barge which was being towed up one of the drains by several
men, against the stream, and being invited to embark, I had
an opportunity of seeing the poverty and utter wretchedness
of these unfortunate men. They were anxiously inquisitive
to know something of the state of affairs in Europe, and
seemed ardently to wish for a war that should emancipate
them from their miseries. We stopped mid-way to rest while
they dined : their meal consisted only of a piece of brown
bread, which they soaked in the dirty water alongside, and
their only beverage was drawn from the same foul source.

PONTINE MAESHES IN THE TIME OF THE VOLSCL 271

It was curious to see the way in which these men quenched
their thirst, it resembled so much the lapping of a dog, both
in manner and noise. With the first two fingers of their
right hand dipped into the water they threw it thus to their
mouth, and caught it with their lips with great dexterity.
I tried to imitate them, for I was excessiyely thirsty ; but
my awkwardness only made them laugh, for I splashed the
water all over my face ; on which I heard one of them re-
mark, with something like disdain^ that '' the signor had
only been accustomed to drink out of a bicchiere/' Though
living so poorly, and working so hard, yet these men appeared
perfectly healthy : they had been up all the preceding night,
conveying billet-wood to Terracina, and were now on their
return for more. The steersman very truly remarked that
it was the life of a dog. He had formerly served in the im-
perial army of France, and certainly had reason to regret
his altered condition.

Reflecting on the circumstance, I cannot see any reason
to doubt the account handed down of the former populous-
ness of the district of the Pontine Marshes in the time of the
Volsci, or of the twenty-three towns spread over it, which
they inhabited. The marshes, I conceive, had not existed at
that day ; but when the water which now deluges this ex-
tensive plain began to issue from under the mountains in the
background, this, by converting the country into a marsh,
and, consequently, rendering it incapable of supporting popu-
lation, would drive away its inhabitants, and bury the towns
in its sinks. That suchlike events have happened before and
have afterwards ceased, is rendered probable by observing
the country between Tivoli and Rome. At a few inches
under (he scanty soil you come to nothing but extensive beds
of travertine, a petrifying deposit of calcareous matter from
water which had at one time inundated a great part of the
flat at the foot of the neighbouring hills. The same kind of
deposit forms a considerable part of the foundation of the
Pontine Marshes ; a fact which the traveller may easily
ascertain, by walking into those parts where the water has
forsakcQ the spot, or has been drained off.

272 FRASCATI A HORSE-RACE*

The porous nature of travertine exerts strong capillary
attractions, and will always keep that country moist whose
ba<is is composed of such a material. I walked considerably
out of the road early in the morning, to examine a solitary
house in ruins to my left, and was surprised at the profuse
quantity of dew which had fallen on the grass through which
I had to walk.

My last visit to Vesuvius, on the day before I quitted
Naples, had so shook the constitution of my shoes, that I was
obliged to leave them by the road- side, and don my slippers
as my only resource, as I ascended the hill to Veletri. On
arriving at Albano I struck off to the right, and by a road
that wound round one side of the lake, I got to Frascati. It
was a fete day, and the town was filled with people from the
country. A horse-race was one of the sports of the day ; and
had the genius of caricature presided as steward of the course,
the scene could not have been more ludicrous. The horses in
Italy, as the reader may know, run without riders, being
goaded on by weights suspended by loose ropes against their
sides ; and they were such wretched hacks, that I am sure
an English knacker would not have owned them for their
hides. The race took place in the piazza, along an avenue
made by the gazing and delighted country-people, whilst the
nobU'ssc of the neighbourhood, the magistrates, and high dig-
nitaries of the church, condescended to grace this farcical
scene with their presence. The prize was a saddle. After
it was ended, the winner was brought forth to receive the
homage of the crowd, decked all over with ribands, and led
by his master, preceded by a band of music ; and nobles, and
priests, and soldiers, followed in the train of this triumphal
procession. In the evening the town was enlivened by fire-
works, and dances and merriments of all sorts.

In the midst of so many delighted faces around me, I
could not but envy the feelings of those whose *' ignorance is
bliss,'' as I, perhaps, was the only spectator present who could
not participate to the full in the simplicity of the enjoyment :

CICBRO'S VILLA— OCH1ONNA-—VICOVARO. 278

but y/rhete sU appeared so gentdnely mnff who would have
leoked for jockejfvhip in sbch a Boeiie?*--aDd jet I thought I
pereeited it ; for whiht the knaekera etroye for the goal at
an eqvai pace, a dog that had bean trained, as I imagined,
for the pnrpoae, was let loose from amoi^ the crowd, whiefa,
snatekiag at the heala of a particular horse^ so hastened his
wpeed as to make him the winner! Prerious to this race I
had paid a visit to the supposed site of Cicbro*s Tusoulah
Villa, where a mosaic pavement is its only remains, at a
place called Qnortx Fshrata, lying under Frascati. Here,
aho, the travdler will eee a fresco painting by Domenichino,
in a chapel in the abbey. Neat morning I walked on to
OoLOKVA to breakfost, a ifistance of seven miles, through si
drilling rain, and a country entirely formed of volcanic
d^briB abounding in black mica. Colonim is a miserable
town, bailt on a litde hill of reddish-coloured cinders, which,
though perfectly sooiified, present an appearance as if they
had onoe been liquefied. It rained so hard, lliat I did not
proceed to Palestiina, ae was my intention ; but took the
road, as I thought, to 'RvoK ; — ^and h^e it was, I may remark,
that I had a ^metidal Joke played upon me, for the first time
in my travels ; for the person of whom I inquired my route
directed me in a Way direotly contraiy. I had proceeded a
Gonsidendble distance before I found out my mistake^ when,
strfkmg at random across the country, through vineyards and
open fields, without a path to guide me, I descended a pre<-
dpice by the help of the roots of trees, and tumbled, late in
the day, accidentally upon Vioovaro. TUs is the ancient
Villa Varroni, the former residence of Cicero's fKend, whose
v ft Uimin ooB writings are lost to poeterity. The town is now
foil of emptiness, voluminous in nothing bat dirt and wretch*
adaesB ; aiid the oidy i^mark I made worthy a note, was the
singular appearance of the volcanic soil, it being beautifally
variegated in colottr.

NotwiflistaiKting that the rain continued to foil in torrents,
I determmed to get to Tivoli that night if possible. I was
fatigued, and wanted aometlmig to eat, but could get nothing
except cold hard-boiled eggs ; and of these, per force, I made

274 HOPE, A DREAM — SLEEP IN A CAVERN.

inv meal, — scanty enough, it was true; but I comforted my-
self with the reflection, that had I had a brain-fever, or some
other atrocious inflammation, I should then have been obli<Ted
to fare as sparingly ; and of the two evils, I certainly had
the least to complain of. In this satisfied state of mind I again
took the road, in the hope of faring better by bed-time ; but
** ri'sptraficc est le sonfjccVun homme cveille,'* The night grew
thicker and thicker, and the rain fell equally dense ; and I
wandered onward more by guess than from any certainty
I had that I was going right : in short, I got quite bewildered ;
and, after wading for nearly an hour, over the knees in water,
up a stony and rugged pathway, which the rain descending
fmm the heights had converted into a precipitous and con-
tinuous stream, I gave up all expectation of reaching Ti vol i
that night. I was stupified, too, by the rain, and the fatigue
1 had undergone. What the hour was I could not well
«^uess ; but it must have been near midnight. So, perceiving
a sort of cave in the mountain, (for by this time I calculated
that I had attained the level of Tivoli,) I had nothing else
to choose but to accept the shelter it offered me. I gathered
toireiher some diT grass and leaves that lay strewed about
its interior, to make me a couch ; and binding a hand-
koroliief round my temples, by way of tutameny if not decus,
I laid my head down on my friendly knapsack, putting my
trust for the safety of the night in Him who tempers the
wind to the shorn lamb. My prayer was short as the Per-
j;ian's : ** In tliee have I trusted: let me never be con-
founded :*' and in the firmness of this reliance, I soon slept the
sleep of luulymion. Next morning I awoke some time after
davliuht, blessing the man who first invented sleep : my limbs
weivstifi'and benumbed with cold ; so, shaking myself up, to
find if I was ** all over right," as the horse-dealers express it,
I strapped my night's pillow on my back, and, on getting out
o( the cave, I saw Tivoli under my feet, a short distance off to
the westwanl! A passing regret shot across my heart, as I
thi^Uiiht how comfortably I might have passed the night had
1 Uvn in Ivtter luck ; but '^ where is the use of sighing" in a
world which so abounds in occasions for doing nothing else !

VIEW FROM THE HEIGHTS OF TIVOLI. 275

The rain had now ceased, and the morning sun beamed
as bright as if it had never shed a tear. On casting my eyes
around, the objects before me presented one of those glorious
prospects that entrance the feelings : at my feet lay the
Campagna, over my head spread a refulgent expanse of sky :
eastward the sun had begun his career toward the land of his
setting, to sleep in the bosom of the Andes : on the verge of
the horizon were Rome, the rugged Apennines, and the sea,
where distance unites earth and heaven in prospects so fugi-
tive and evanescent, that, viewing them twice, you perceive
them changed. I watched the blue vapour that veiled the
mountains' side as it left its dewy bed ; awoke by the sun-
beams, it curled up the steep, and dissipated into air, like a
dream forgotten. I regarded the nitescent soow that glis-
tened on the summit of the more elevated Apennines; and
in the midst of all stood pines, and poplars, and cypresses,
among tombe and aqueducts in ruins. Ruminating on re-
flections in harmony with the surrounding scene, my mind
got tuned for a treat ; so I took the road to Tivoli, forgetful
of the miserable plight I was in : but it seemed my wretched
attire was more obvious to others than to myself ; for, as I
approached the town, an old woman seeing me walking in
slippers lashed to my feet with cord, asked me, with a feeling
of concern, why I went so badly shod ; and, without waiting
for a reply, added, '' Sta par penitenza ?" The idea tickled
me, and I answered, ** Signora, si." '^ Ah ! poveretto !
poveretto!" cried the old woman, in a tone of voice which,
when translated, said, ** Who among the children of men is
not a sinner?"

TIVOLI.

While every other part of Italy may, with equal claims,
exact homage as classic ground, every footstep about Tivoli
is doubly consecrated ; and I felt, in visiting those sacred
haunts, as if I ought to have left my slippers as well as shoes
at Veletri ; for here it was that Cicero rehearsed to the
sound of the &Uing waters, and Horace repeated his odes,
while the birds on the surrounding sprays filled in the

270 THE FALLS OF TIVOLI.

chorus : tlie?e green hills were trodden by Catullus and his
Leshia : these same fields were tilled by the band of the
elder Cato : in these irroves Seneca meditated ; and in the
tranloiis of tlie M!la Estense, m later times, it was that
Tasso coniposed a g-reat part of his Gerusalcmme Liberata.

Tivoli is the ancient Tibur, and its picturescjue beauties
have iW u^zcs made it the resort of the pilgrims of nature.
The iiranil cascade is at the back of the town, to view
whicli vou de-coiid hv a diaironal path cut out of the tra-
vcrtino, fornud by the waters of the Agnello. This white
and turbid stream tlows aentlv over its bed, bathinsr the
tinvii in its course, shaded bv branchinix elms, stealing: onward
cahn and majestic, like a swan. Of a sudden it bursts into
turbulence, da>hing itself against the rocks into foam; when,
falling back on itstlf in impetuous seethings, it leaps over the
rock in desperation, and is j)recipitated into the abyss below.
As vou desceiul bv the path I have mentioned, the sruide
dirocis your eye to the dilierent objects of interest as they
pre>ont themselves. Cast your regards upward, and you
SCO the simple and chaste Temple of Vesta, and, by its side,
the circular l\vxE of the Sibyl, its beautiful, fluted, Corin-
iliian colunms. and its richlv festooned entablature. Draw
vour eve forward, and the view of the Caduta dazzles the
^iihiv >i«j:ht in its fall : thix^w it downward, and you perceive
ilic I'umiui:' mist into which it is dissipated, whose spray, as
it cvMuicnscs. tails in a continual shower, and will wet a
>pt>v't;\tor at the distance ot' six hundred paces. Let your eye
sink >:iil loucr iio>\u. and you now see the *^ pra?ceps Anio"
i:r»i:\c;i'.:c tv^::ciluM' i;< sc:utrrod waters, like a boa recoilins:,
to plunge nndi r t'.iC Cujorio or the Sykex. At the foot of
\]\c \\\\\\\\:\\ NvMi v\Mnc tv^ a caNcrn. hollowed out of the rock
b\ the cluscl oi v.iV.wxw whose \aidt is formed of two enor-
mvMi< atviu> onianur.t«\l \%;:h nu^>s. and creepers hanging in
ti>toon> i'.t,> IS ti;c i^Ki^; \\^ vn NvrrixE. in the continued
uoi>e vM ^^hlch tu^ht \\;\:\\ v.v> mIouvv. Heiv vou atrain have
a \ il^^^ ol' tb.c taT.^v.;; (uwi. cv^ •/. \i;i>!;cs {;cadlong through the
uc*»tio in tinvc r'.\v\\'ito,'.> >:*a\;'-,:> . :r.ui a< vou stand aniidst
the tlnck dt ;./'..* i':;:;i <;ov\^'vV^ \vi:. no;; ihivcin e a richlv-

TIVOLI— -THE CASCATEtLK. 277

tinted rainbow, which follows yoa about as jon shift your
position, as if it were the shadow of your own eye's iris.
Listening in dumb delirium to the thunders of rebounding
waves, and to the continuous reverberation of the fallmg of
so many waters, while all else around is silent, you insen*
sibly get wetted to the skin ; and the chill working itself up
to a shudder, at last awakens you from your day-dream, and
obliges you to quit this elfin cave, and regain the height.
Ab you ascend, observe on the wall of rock to your left the
various forms the travertine assumes, and how nature, in the
midst of so much sublime tumult, can find leisure even to be
fimtastic.

From the Caduia Orande you wind round by a delightful
road, shaded by poplars, and plantains, 'with mulberry and
fig-trees intermingled, to arrive in froni of the CaseateUe,
On each side of your path are flowers of fragrant sweetness,
bloomii^ on a carpet of nature's richest verdure. Concerts
<tf birds of sweetest song ravish with their notes the delighted
ear, and flocks feeding on the bills coat their summits with
fleecy white. Reverting the eye, the temples of Vesta and
the Sibyl, overhanging the foaming gnlf of the cascade, buist
again into view, where ivy and other leafy pknts dispute
with the Corinthian acanthus which <»f tbem shall crows
the fallen columns strewed around. You pass the rained
villa <tf Horace and his garden, now that of an idle set of
UKmks, and at length come in full view of the Cascatblls ;
to form which yon see a torrent rushing impetuously forward,
that separates into five streams, and bounds over the edge of
the bill with the gay alacrity of a hunter in full cry. Here
the water rushes over in sheets — there it trickles down in
fillets oi silver ; and every timid tiny shrub on the maropn of
its coarse is kept in a constant tremor by the gushing stream.
The successive leaps made by the different cascades m their
foil are no longer terrific ; but what they lose in svUimity
they gain in beauty : nothing can be finer than the sop*
rounchng accompaniments. Look upward, and a pore azure
sky is in keeping with yo«r peacefol sensations : listen to
the murmurings, as if of congratulation, caused by the various

278 VILLA ADRIANA — LUCULLUS's LAMENT.

streams as they meet to mingle again their waters on a carpet
of emerald^ and the pulses of the heart respond to the
quietude of the Elysian scene.

From this enchanting spot the traveller may now pay a
visit to the Villa Adriana. This was a space inclading
about ten miles in circumference, at the foot of the mountains
in which the Emperor Hadrian imitated all the most cele-
brated monuments of Grecian architecture: here stood the
Lyceum ; there, the Academy ; in the plain, the Portico ;
on the brow of the hill, the Temple of Thessalia ; in the
valley, the Elysian Fields ; in the midst of a wood, the Poedle
of Athens ; besides baths, and libraries, and naumachia, and
theatres : but the place must be seen to shape any conception
of what it might have been ; for little remains to guide even
probability in a guess, and leaves description at fault, for
want of substance to portray ; so, determining to indulge in
fancies of my own creation, I lay down on the grass, with
the marsh in sight which had formerly been the garden of
LucuUus. On a sudden the sentinels stationed in my orlnts
deserted their post, to steal a march to a canteen in one of
the innermost ventricles of the brain, when my mind, thus
left in the dark as to what was passing in the external world,
unconsciously lost itself in the labyrinths of fieaicy, and I be-
gan to imagine myself, by some inward gastric association of
feeling; at a feast given by this refined voluptuary of anti-
quity. LucuUus, methought, was entertaining his guests with
a lamentation on the rigour of fate, in the following pathetic
strain : — <* Let us be thankful to the gods," said Lucullos,
apparently in continuation — for I do not remember being
present at grace-time, but had popped in somehow acci-
dentally — '' Let us be thankful to the gods," said he, " for
the good things they have given us. The profusion and kind
partiality of fortune ought not to shut our eyes to the wretch-
edness of those whom fate hath treated less bountifully ; for
when I consider, my friends, that there are so many miserable
beings who have nothing to eat but black bread — (Catv^,
pass the turbot this way) — who have no other beverage than
water to quench their thirst — {Lucius^ pour me out a goblet

TRAVERTINE FORMATION BETWEEN TIVOU ANI> ROME. 279

of FaUrnian) — who suffer from the cold, from sickness and
penury, and who groan under some wretched hovel, stretched
upon a miserable pallet — {Davus^ pour perfumes on our
AeadSy and strew our couches with roses) — when I think of

all these things, oh ! my friends *'. At this moment Caius

entered, and announced that the sports of the naumachia had
commenced in the Villa Adriana : and this untoward inter-
ruption cut short — bad luck to it! — the lament, just as we
all had begun to shew that sorrow was indeed dry. We now
hastened from the table, and the bustle the company made in
rising awoke me to a sense that I had only been, what, by
the way, I am very apt to do, day-dreaming. On opening
my eyes, I perceived the sun fast sinking into the west ; and
I was now fain to return to the inn, to try if I could not
" cloy the hungry maw of appetite" with something more
substantial than ** the bare imagination of a feast."

Before leaving the heights of Tivoli, let the traveller cast
his eye in the direction of those hills which had formed,
when in operation, the centre of the volcanic action around
Albano and Nemi. Here he will again see exemplified the
circular form in which it has so invariable a tendency to act.
A champaign space intervenes between these and the lime-
stone formation of the Apennines, composed entirely of gra-
nular and lithoidal tufa, till within a mile and a half of Tivoli,
when it meets the travertine, the fantastic appearance of
which in some places closely resembles the gyri of roots of
trees in a state of petrifaction. This singular deposit extends
its bed six miles in breadth across the ancient Via Tiburtina ;
and the grass and reeds which you find converted into stone,
furnish beautiful specimens for the cabinet of the naturalist.
He may pick them in abundance even fix>m the stone fences
by the road-side. It seems probable that the Agnello had
once flowed directly down the hill from Tivoli, before it took
the more circuitous route of the cascades, and perhaps also
in streams more copious than at present ; but, even on this
supposition, the Anio alone never could have furnished cal-
careous sediment sufficient to produce so extended a bed.
The water must have issued from a more abundant and wide*

280 THf^ 80LFATABA — TOMB OP PLAUTIUS.

spread Bource, now exhaoated ; a snppoeition which, if comci^
renders it not improbable but that the Pontine marshes them-
selves may one day become dry.

Aboat five miles from Tivoli, on the direct road to Rome,
you cross a little bridge stretching over the aestuary of an ad-
joining SoLFATABA, a name usually given in Italy to springs
of water of a sulphureous nature. You are apprised of yo«r
approach to it, for more than a mile, by a strong hydro-
sulphureous smell> especially if the wind Uows in yoar teeth.
The lake whence it flows lies about a mile and a half lo the
right of the road, close to a house in ruins, havii^ some-
thing of a feudal appearance in structure. Its shape is cir-
cular, about a hundred and fifty feet in diameter, and it boils
up in several places with great vehemenee ; while in other
places detached air-bells arise, resembling the leaping of a
trout as it snatches at a fly. I approached its quaggy margin,
where the water bubbled up so as to cause a continual frothy
seething, to taste it, and to feel if it was warm ; but though
its taste was very strongly hydro-sulphureous and a little acsd,
its temperature was that of ordinary spring water. I may
caution the traveller, in making the same examination, to be
careful; for the footing is both hollow and slippery, and
therefore hazardous. Notice the travertine around it, and
the snlphuro- calcareous crusts which are thrown up, and
adhere to its edges; and the unaceouutable conjunction of
lime and sulphur, to which I have had occasion, more than
once, to draw the traveller's attention ; but to account toK
which, I dare not venture a surmise.

There is another sulphureous lake hard by, which pours
its superabundant water, by a natural canal, into the one I
have just described.

Further on, you come upon the volcanic soil which
stretches to Rome ; and in your way thither, you pass a tomb
in ruins^ by the side of which stands a Triumphai. Momu-
MBNT, erected to Plautius. Triumph and a tomb ! There is,
then, no longer need to ask, '^ Grave I where is thy victory T"
— the spot is here commemorated by a monument.

I re-entered Rome by the gate of San L<M*enxo.

RETURN TO ROMS — ITS NEPICAIi TOPOGRAPHY. 281

ROMS*— The first reflection that obtraded itself on my
mindy on finding myseLf again within the walls of the ancient
nuBtresB of the worlds was, Where is all the gay crowd of
strangers that flocked to riew the splendid ceremonies at the
Vatican when I was last here? — fled like butterflies to flowers
of pleaaare blossoming elsewhere ! Rome is at all times
sombre ; and when she essays a smile, it is as the gleam of a
fiiUing star thnwgfa the dark shade of night. Modem Rome
is, in fieiet, the sepulchre ^ all its former grandeur : a rank
odour of CNEOictity sujqdies fetor to the natural corruption
around ; and as you walk amongst the universal dilapidation,
ill rains seem but the kiejaeets of its gloriee, over which the
loonger ponders with the melancholy feeling of epita^^ic
cmitemplation* No gay bustle now disturbed the dust of the
mighty dead, and the multitude of priests I met at every
turn, seemed as if provided only to repeat requiems for the
days that were gone.

It is a disputed point, whether Rome was equally noxious
to heahh in ancient as it is found to be in modern times. I
think a review of its peculmr topography can settle thia
matter, Independent of history. Livy tells us of the nineteen
plagnes* that occurred between 287 and 460 a.c, for which
Saiinator,t with a prophylactic view, instituted the Ludi Jw-
veniuHs. Cato mentiona several places which were rendered
uninhabitable from the malaria. Tacitus, in his 16th book»
likewise relates how a pesttfierous air, in Nero's time^ laid waste
the Campagna, desolating its towns and villages, and thence
extending into and devastating Rome itself: it attacked all
classes of the people indiscriminately. The houses were filled
with the dead, the streets with fimerals ; and it was lamentable
to hear the wailings and cries of a universally bereaved people
mourning the loss of husbands and wives, of mothers and
children.

I think a wrong idea is entertained of the former high
state of cultivation of the Campagna di Roma, since the soil

* Vide an interesting work on the maUuda by Dr. M'CuUoch.
f Ciceco in Bruio.

282 SOURCE AND CAUSE OF THE MALARIA.

irenorally sooins never to have been disturbed by the plough,
-a t'not distinctly demonstrated by the unequivocal volcanic
I'haraoror it still hears ; whereas, over the entire of the Cani-
}>Mi:iia Felix, >vhich we know to have been subjected to tillatre
tor aLTt'S, the several ingredients composing the soil are so
anialiraniated as no longer to possess their original character,
now only coixnisahle by its diy, pulverulent, and cineritious
a|>|>t aranoo, and by wliat remains yet untouched about its
ouiskins. When last in Rome I took occasion to explain my
\iows i^t'tlie strong attractive nature of its soil for humidity,
o( the icnacitv with which it retains it, and of the morbific
ttHmia oniiondcrcil bv the united action of heat and mo is-
tmv on the iiinaius of animal and vegetable corruption em-
IviliKd in a soil so favourable to putrefactive decomposition.
\\ iih Mich tacts before our eyes, there is no necessity, nay, it
IS absurd, in my (^pinion, to look so far as the Pontine
::;.;rshc>, a distance of fortv miles, with the Alban hills inter-
>c'.iiic as a i\uriiM\ tor malarias, which, be it remembered,
u ■..-: 1m\c inn aryiiig winds, at a certain season of the year,
tv^ 1 '.vn\ ;!u ni lliitlur undiluted, otherwise they will not ac-
Cv^i;:;; tor tiio periodic autunnial unliealtliiness of Rome. At
•/.:>> v.Vi.c of tlic Near the weather is sultrv ; the miasmata
li;.\c ;.:t.,;iivd tiu ir ir.tcnscst virulence, and most abound; the
cv^'.>.;:;;:.o:i ot^ ilu' i:.hahiiants is, at the same time, predis-
jv^<<\i In \]w rtiaxanon produced by the continuance of the
lu.;:; ar.vl lu ucc arises tlic prevalence of those remittent
IcNC!^ il.ai pro\c annually so t'atal in this place. It is these
.■uvnnnilau\l cxhahuions, indeed, that constitute what has
Ken iK nvM\inKUt\l. m> improperly, the sirocco of Rome,
Nxl.uh. \>licn CvMulcnst^l and precipitateil by their own gravity,
or b\ a change v>l ainio-pluM'ical ela>ticity, ditiuse themselves
t^i\>n:;l\out the narl^>^^ >uvcis and low situations of the city,
,r>d tlv.i-* onr,* J^lcr tiMMS ot' ilie most dangerous type. It is
oo'.rr/;,d \\m\\ a'oo\c h^.lHH^ ptuuids weight ol bark are yearly
>^ ';-;r.;x\\ \t; Iumuc and its \icinity. The population of Rome
» X n; '...;ud at 1 iS.iHH^ and the deaths exceed the birtlis in
, \ \ \s^:',.v>r, otOll \ to {'29\>. Phthi.^is, I mav add, is far
N^ ; ;\ . ., „n utu\nnnion di>case among the inhabitants.

ROUTE TO FLORENCE BT PERUGIA. 283

With sueh an undeniable and fnghtfal fact before him, I take
that medical man to be either unpardonably ignorant or
cruelly unprincipled, who can recommend such a place indis-
criminately as a fit residence for the consumptive.
« During my short stay, the splendid procession of the
Corpus Christi took place ; but I shall not attempt to de-
scribe the empty pageantry of a scene instituted to commemo-
rate a blasphemy, for puppet-shows have lost their power to
please me ; and so, as was usual in similar predicaments, now
that I had nothing new to interest me, I and my knapsack
were on the trot early one morning outside of the Porta del
Popolo. I took the road that turns off to the right imme-
diately on crossing the Milvian bridge, on my route to Civita
Castellana, by the foot of Mount Soracte, with the object of
examining of what this mountain consisted ; for insulated as
it stands in the plain, I was curious to ascertain whether it
was a Tolcanic eruption or not. Three miles and a half from
Rome, where the road winds by the banks of the Tiber, the
traveller comes to hills consisting of volcanic clay inclosing
leucites torrified to powder, and black, spongy scoriae, having
insulated transparent tabular crystals of calcareous spar, in-
terspersed through the mass.*

I brought specimens of these away with me, as, indeed, I
did of every variety of volcanic and other formation I met
with in my tour. The opposite bank of the Tiber is evidently
formed of the same materials, and it accompanies the traveller
as far as Grotta Rosa. At Prtma Porta, the road leaves
the river-side, and here I remarked alternations of granular
volcanic dust and small cinders in strata of great regularity :
some of this granular matter much resembled pisolite ; it was
white, and gave the idea of a shower of volcanic hail having
fallen. . On the road you pass the ruins of several ancient
tombs, and about half-way between Prima Porta and Castel
Nnovo you see one entire, now called the Cento Cblli. The
country between Prima Porta and Castel Nuova is of the

• I remember seeing also, in the Ecole des Mines at Paris, specimens of
amygdaloid lava from Val di Noto, enclosing crystals of carbonate of lime not
at all calcined.

284 RBGNANA — MOUNT 80RACTE.

roaghest aad modt imgaliu* aspect — now hill, now h<dlow —
as if it had been sabjeeted to great convulsions at some remote
period, which nothing could so well account fov as the colossal
operation of earthquakes. As you approach Regnaka, when
about tw^ity-four miles from Rome, the ft^ce of the country
alters greatly for the better: hiU and dale succeed each other
in gentle undulaticMiSi and cultivation and fertility entice
from the earth the fruits of her bosom in abundance. This
little town is seated at the foot of Mount Soracte, or, as it is
now by corruption denominated, Mount St» Oreste, By the
way, I may mention that Roman Catholicism, in its abhor-
rence of paganism, not only transubstantiated Soracte into
St. Oreste, but confirmed the pious metamorphosis by a
miracle ; a boy pointed one vestige of it out to me. The
saint of Soracte, it seems, mounted his horse one day to pay
a visit to the Holy City, and the animal^ under the load of so
much sanctity, left the imprint of his hoof in the adamantine
lava on three different places in his way : the one I was so
blessed as to see with my own eyes, as the expression goeS|
was on a curb-stone by the way-side, which made a part of
the ancient Via Fhxminia^ yet in high preservation at this
spot, about a mile before getting to R^nana. But Mount
Soracte has long been famous for prodigies. This mountain
was celebrated in ancient times, not only because of a certain
herb which grew here, whose virtue was so potent, that if any
one but rubbed the soles of his feet with its juice, he might
walk through a fiery furnace with impunity, but also on
account of the water of an extraordinary fountain, which,
according to Pliny and Varro, flowed at sun-rise, and not
only killed birds which drank of it, but likewise animals of
the most venomous description.

Two miles past Regnano, I turned off from the road to
examine the nature of the rock forming Mount Soractb,
and found it to consist of limestone, the same as that of the
neighbouring Apennines. A village is situated on its flank,
and takes its Christian name — St. Oreste. Volcanic dust
encompasses its base, and ascends as high up as gravity will
allow pulverulent matter to adhere. Before leaving Soracte,

CI VITA CA8TELLANA — OSTRICOLI — N ARNI. 285

I may mention that the raburbe of ancient Rome extended as
fiur as this mountain even in the days of Marcus Aurelius.

I slept at Cabtbl Nuovo, and breakfasted next morning
at GiviTA Castbllana. Thb town stands on a mound of
indurated Tolcanic dust, with deep ravines about it, which
serve as fosses to the citadel. Save this there is nothing else
to detain the traveller's notice.

Between Oivita Castdlana and Otricoli the landscape
improves eveiy step you take after passing Mal-Borghbtto.
Befinre arriving at the latter, you fall in with tufa, bearing a
resemUanoe to that composing the promontory of Posilipo ;
leaving which, you quit the volcanic district occupied by the
ancient Sabines, and come into a hilly country, consisting of
limestone breccia.

OsTBiooLi stands on a hill, and commands a superb view.
At its foot, the Tiber winds its serpentine course through a
plain of richest pasturage, in the midst of which are still per^
oeived the ruins of ancient Ostriculum, — Hmc turn nomine
erantf nunc nmt rine nomine campi.

Hence to Nami is two posts. In the road thither you
pass a village very picturesquely situated at your feet, and
of this character is the approach to Narni, where, from a
height along which it runs, you see the Nar rushing on in
the ravine below. Nabki stands on a rocky, barren moun-
tain, of difficult access towards the north, at the foot of which
lies a fertile valley watered by the Nar. livy tells us, that
this town was formerly called Nequinum^ and the inhabitants
Neqninates, — as much as to say, ** idle rascals ; " a designa*
tion which the Roman soldiers quartered here disliking,
dumged it to Namia, after the neighbouring stream. A foot-
path behind the town leads down to the ruins of a bridge
which was erected across the Nar by Augustus : it is built
en pierre *siche, and is best seen from a ricketty modem
bridge, so awkwaidly and enigmatically placed, that it does
not appear to cross the stream, and when you reach the
opposite bank, yon are surprised to find younielf on the other
side of the river. A plain of astonishing fertility extends hence
to Temi, where the saeadows yield their dense crops to the

280 TERNI THE FALLS AT PAPIGNA.

scythe four times a-year, and where turnips are said some-
times to grow to the enormous weight of thirty pounds.
Term is situated on the side of an eminence to the right of a
charming valley between two branches of the Nera, whence
it derived its ancient name of Interamnn. Terni boasts of
great antiquity, having been built in the time of Numa Pom-
pilius, seven hundred years before the Christian era ; and
claims additional distinction from behig the birth-place of
(Jornelius Tacitus. Its remains of antiquity are few. In the
garden of the bishop there are vestiges of a theatre to be
seen ; an ancient aqueduct, which formerly served to water
the meadows, still performs the same fertilising office, and
the CniRcn of S. Salvatore embodies the ruins of the Tem-
ple OF THE Sun. When the traveller visits it, let him observe
a painthig of a Madonna, which he will find in the Rotondo.
Four miles and a half from Terni lies the charming glen
of Papigna, into which falls the magnificent Cascade best
known in England as that of Terni. It is formed, as most
readers know, by the Velino, which precipitates itself into
the ?sera over a fall three hundred feet perpendicular. The
noise of the waters is heard at a great distance. The stream
is seen to hasten its pace as it approaches the edge of the pre-
cipice, each wavelet rushing before another with suicidal
impatience, as if struggling which should be first to take the
l(?a]), they rush over in a torrent, and, dashed into dust by the
fall, if pulverized water may be so called, they rebound again
to double their former height, and fill the valley with a cloud
of dew, completing Horace's picture of the *' Rosea rura
Vdlni,^' Rainbows play round the eye in all directions, and
the visitor has only to shift his position to vary the iridescent
arch. Falling at length, this cloud of spray condenses, and
uniting with the Nera, they roll on their waters together, and
whiten with their foam the whole lengtli of the valley. The
best place to view the fall in all its sublimity is from a grotto
made of the branches of trees at the bottom, and in front, of
the cascade; but the delighted visitor cannot rest satisfied
with one point of view alone, however fine ; let him, therefore,
defying a wetting, accompany his guide up the precipice, let

AN INVOCATION AND MIRACULOUS INTERVENTION. 287

him view the cayems in the rock, and their stalactites ; the
singularly heantiful deposits of reticular tufa, of which the
rock consists ; the large grotto on the top, the roof of which
is sustained by colossal stalactitic columns ; and the Velino ere
it plnnges over the precipice. The path which leads to the
cascade is through a grove in perfect keeping with the sur-
rounding scenery, at the top of which you observe part of an
ANCIENT Bridge, which excavation has developed, lying
under a mass of calc-sinter, ten feet thick, deposited from the
waters of the Velino ; indeed, the water is so strongly im-
pregnated with calcareous matter, that both men and animals
that drink of it are said to be extremely subject to lithic com-
plaints. Before quitting Papigna, it were a crying sin to
omit recording another miracle of the blessed Virgin, for who
can tell but the same kind interposition may once more save
some venturous wight from perdition, when aware of the
means by which it may be secured ? The story goes thus : —
A certain gentleman of Siena had come to see the Caduta,
and when crossing the Velino too near the fall, he lost his
footing, and was hurried down by the strength of the current ;
^but at the moment whilst shooting the edge of the precipice,
thinking^ no doubt, like Pat, when sliding down a roof
some five stories high, of what a &11 he was ** going to get,'*
he luckily had the presence of mind to invoke Our Lady of
Loretto. His prayer was heard, and Our Lady's man escaped
with merely a ducking; — so much for the miraculous tale of
the worthy hostess of Papigna. And I may draw attention
to a rock of limestone breccia of singular appearance, which
the traveller will find to his right, just as he enters the village
from Temi. A horse-path crosses from Papigna to the main
road leading to Spoleto, by which a distance of four or five
miles is saved : I need not say I took the shortest route. For
the first four or five miles Nature puts on her gayest attire,
and the laurel and wild olive-tree, holm-oaks, juniper, and a
great variety of other beautiful trees and shrubs, diversify and
enrich the scene. The country after this assumes a more sterile
appearance ; and when within three miles of Spoleto, you pass
over the Somma, the highest mountain in this neighbourhood.

288 SPOLBTO — PORTA FUGA-**THE DUOlfO.

SPOLETO.

Spoleto was ancie&tly a rerj powerftil Roman colony, and
afterwards the capital of a province of Lombardy. The Goths,
also, once occupied it, and their Idng Theodoric bnilt a palace
here. The principal objects deserving notice are the Abch
OF DnirstTS, under which one of the streets passes, the Porta
FuaA, and the Duomo, or Cathedral. The Porta Fuoa is part
of the remains of an Amphithbatrb, famous in the memories
of the Spoletese as being the arch through which Hannibal
and his army escaped when repulsed by the inhabitants in his
advance on Rome, after the victory of Thrasymene. The cir-
cumstance is commemorated on the gate by the following
inscription : —

ANVTBAL .
CJEfilS . AB . r&ASTIf EMOM . BOXAVtS .
URBBIC . ROM AM . INFENSO . A^MXNB • PBTBM8.

SPOLETO .

MAGNA . SUORtJM . CLAOE . REPULSUS .

INSIGNI . FUGA . PORTiE . NOMEN • FECIT.

The Duomo, again^ has an arcade in front, supported by.
beautiful columns of the Ionic order, and surmounted by a
handsome frieze. The high altar, which stands in the middle
of the church, is enriched by four beautiftd columns, which
support a handsome baldacchino : the two in front are of
marble, the two behind of ophite, — all of the moat perfect
finish.

The chapels are vaulted, and adorned widi paintings by
several excellent masters, among which I observed a Goao*
NATION OF TELB ViRGiN, by Annibal Caraoei ; a Visitation, by
Del Sarto ; a Gtta&dian Angxl, by Oanucd ; a Yision or
THE ViBGiN AND Child, by Nocci ; and Danibl ik thn
Lions' Dbn, by an artist I cannot name. There are soaoe
faded finescos in the Tribune, and an ancient mosaic pavement
beautifully checkers the floor.

Behind the citadel, yon see the AauEDUcr ibr confcying
the waters of the Tesino to the town : it is above 360 paees in
length, and nearly 700 English feet m height above the low*

LA VENB — TEMPLE OF THE RIVER-GOD CLITUMNUS. 289

est part of the yalley, across which it strides so majesticallj.
Five hundred paces outside of the town, in the direction of
La Veneyby turning to the right, you come to a Mokastbry,
which incorporates the ruins of an ancient Temple of Con-
cord, now consecrated as the chapel of the Holy Cruci-
fixion. Its remains are few, but these are exceedingly beau-
tiful. This temple must have been of the Corinthian order^
if we may judge by three beautiful portals which still exist, as
well as by six lo% fluted columns of the same order, with
their capitals entire, standing before the high altar.

Spoleto is described in some books of travels as being
built on the crater of an extinct volcano, but there is no
foundation for such an assertion.

A little beyond the village of La Vbnb you find a bijou
of exquisite architecture, so situated that the pedestrian
even, if not previously aware of its existence, would pass it
unnoticed. This is the Temple erected by the Umbri to the
River Gtod Clitumnus, at the foot of which flows the peace-
ful streamlet that takes his name. ' It is of white marble,
and of the Corinthian order. On a rustic basement stands a
portico of the most delicate proportions, where columns,
whose shafts are richly sculptured, sustain a^ elegant en-
tablature, frieze, and pediment. From the vestibule, a door
opens into the body of the temple, which, by being of the
Tuscan order, acts as a foil in the background to the fairy
lightness of the portico, and sets it out in fine relief. By a
wise policy, it has been consecrated as a chapel. It is to
this beautiful little temple, and the stream that flows by it,
that Lord Byron alludes in the fourth canto of his '^ Childe
Harold:"—

'' And on thy happy shore a temple stUl,
Of small and delicate proportion, keeps,
Upon a mild declivity of hill,
Its memory of thee/^*

Near to this, at the foot of the hill which environs the plain,
a living spring gushes from under the rock : it is one of the

* The Clitumnus.
u

290 PILGRIMS MONTEFALCO FOLIGNO ISPELLO.

sources of the Clltumnus. Henee to Foligno is nine miles
and a half, and yon traverse a valley of the richest soil,
where nature teems forth her treasures in bounteous pro-
fusion : the fields are covered with abundant crop», and the
hills are clothed with the vine, the olive, and the almond-tree.
It drew towards evening as I approached Foligno, when I
met a crowd of pilgrims, men and women, returning from
Loretto, on their way back to Naples. They were chanting
the evening hymn to the Virgin ; and the wild sweetness of
the music struck on my ear with that mi^ic effect which all
may have felt from music that delights, but which words are
incapable of describing. I saluted my fellow- pilgrims as they
passed. They continued their hymn, and I too struck up,
by way of accompaniment, as I trudged along, *' The girl I
left behind me."

On an eminence to the left, before arriving at Foligno,
you see the town of Moktefalco, celebrated in the legends
of the church for possessing three stones, as laige as nuts,
found in the heart of Saint Clara, whereon there is engraved,
in legible characters, the whole history of the passion ; but, what
is still more wonderful, these three stones together weigh no
more than one taken singly, and, consequently, one weighs as
much as the three ! — a travestie, I need not add, of a doctrine
which needed no such impious fac-simile to make it more
comprehensible or less sublime.

FoLioNO has nothing to detain the attention now that
Raphael's Madonna is removed to the gallery of the Vatican.
A few miles further brings the traveller to Ispbllo, the
ancient Colonic Julia. Two of its ancient gates still remain,
and part of its walls : the latter, if an inscription on them is
to be believed, were built by Callimachus. There are two
churches here deserving of a visit. That of S. Maria Mag-
GiORE is embellished with several good paintings : one repre-
senting a Dead Christ, in a winding sheet, with landscape
scenery, and Mount Calvary in the dbtance, pleased me more
particularly ; another, depicting the Virgin in the sky, sur-
rounded by infant angels, like so many rose-buds in a bouquet,
is ako good. This church likewise contains several old

BASILICA OF THE SERAPHIC SAlNT-r-ASSISI. 291

pcdntingB by Michael Angelo Ardine, wolA, frescos by Perugino
and Pintariccbio. The other is the Church of St. Andrew
THB Apostle. Here we see an early specimen of Raphael's
pencil after the Perugino school, where the artist has called
in the aid of gilding to bedizen a Madonka. There are
several paintings in this church which I was preyented from
seeing by the service of the mass being performed at the
moment. A short distance out of Ispello you pass the ruins
of an Amphitheatre to the left ; several arches which had
supported the seats still remain, and the eye can distinctly
trace the ellipsis of the arena.

The country from Ispello to Assisi partakes of the same
exuberant nature as that which characterises the valley of the
Clitumnus. Under Assisi, and close by the road, you pass
the Basilica of that seraphic patriarch of the beggars,
St. Francis. It was on this spot that he first founded, by
divine inspiration, the holy order of the mendicants ; and
within the basilica you see the couch on which he lay, and
his usual promenade. The sacred ground is enclosed in a
sort of tabernacle, on which you read the names of the first
twelve proselytes to the rules of the order. The exterior of
this tabernacle is decorated with paintings representing the
most illustrious passages in the history of Saint Francis. Over
the high altar of the basilica there is a charming painting of
the Virgin and Child, with St. Ann on one side, and
St. Francis on the other ; the Virgin, of loveliest expression,
fiimiliarly leans her arms round the neck of the friar ; and an
angel of exquisite beauty stands behind the Madonna. This
picture is delightfully balanced, the attitudes are most grace*
fully varied, and the colours admirably opposed ; the whole
completing as charming a group as the art of painting could
well compose.

Leaving the basilica, I turned up a lane which seemed to
lead by the shortest route to Assisi ; but I was mistaken, — so,
to cut the matter shorter still, notwithstanding my blunder,
I clambered over hedge and ditch, taking a bird's course to
Assisi, which stood on the high ground above me.

Assisi is filmed as the birth-place of the saint who preached

292 ciirRCii OF st. francis — temple of minerva.

to the swallows, stopping them m their flight to listen ; and
who, exceeding far that pagan thief of old, Prometheus, made
a woman and her whole family out of snow, and that, too,
strange to say of any one of the order, without committing a
rohbery. They still point out the house in which he was born,
near tlie church of San Filippini. The church which bears
his name contains his bones. This ancient edifice was built by
the architect Giacomo Germano, under the auspices of Pope
(iregory IX., and in its construction is exemplified architec-
ture in all its Gothicism. Enter it, and all is gloom, as if
Death himself had erected a palace expressly to contain the
ashes of him whose garment was sackcloth. The tomb of
the saint is situated in one of its inmost recesses, sunk under
ground, and dimly lighted day and night by lamps, w^hose
lurid glare, in making darkness more visible, only renders
the obscurity more dismal.* The richly stained glass windows
around serve to deepen the shade cast over the interior by the
massiveness of the outer walls ; and the whole effect strikes
on the imagination, and suggests the idea of a shrine, with
such accompaniments, as a place fitted only for the assassin to
go and confess in secret crimes that he dared not utter even
to himself in the convicting light of day. Under the first arch
which faces you on entering this church, you see the Portraits
OF SIX Popes, who proceeded from the order of St. Francis.
There are several other paintings and frescos meriting notice
— a St. Sebastian, a Pieta, a Crucifixion, and others.

To brush the cobwebs of ascetic gloom from my brow, I
hastened to visit the ancient Temple of Minerna, now dedi-
cated as a church to San Filii)pini. This temple is one of the
most perfect remains of anticpiity among the few such that
exist. Its front is ornamented with a handsome portico, with
six fluted Corinthian colunms supporting a pediment ; and the
interior preserves its ancient form and its vaulted roof. A
few tolerable paintings adorn its walls, especially that repre-
senting Christ curing the Sick : there is Divinity in the
person and countenance of the Redeemer, sickness well
depicted in that of the patient, and interesting compassion in
that of the female who stands at the foot of the bed. I next

THE DUOMO — PORTIUNCULA OP ST, FRANCIS. 293

▼isited the DuoMOy which is embellished with several paint-
ings ; for a brief aocount of which I refer the visitor to the
Appendix : and before leading the reader down the hill again,
I may mention, that in the Church of Santa Chiara he
will see the celebrated miraculous wooden crucifix that used
to converse so familiarly with St. Francis.

At Santa Maria degli Angeli, which lies at the bottom
of the hill, a noble and spacious edifice enshrines a little
chapel, or oratory, of low and very ordinary structure, having
a small Grothic steeple. It was in this little chapel, now called
the Portiuncula of St. Francis, that this saint first used to offer
up his devotions. It is held in high veneration by the people,
and is annually the resort of a multitude of pilgrims from all
the neighbouring country. The magnificent church which
envelopes this beggarly edifice, like a mantle of silk covering
the withered limbs of crapulent decrepitude, contains many
beautiful paintings, most of which illustrate passages in the
legendary history of St. Francis: his curing the blind — an
angel appearing to him — a vision, wherein he appears to
some one sick — St. Francis preaching — his death — his
fonerai, &c. There are several others that are also extremely
fine : a Virgin and Child, where a nun is represented kissing
the boy's hand ; Christ kneeling before his mother, who
is weeping, with a beautiful architectural background ; be-
sides several fine frescos. In another part of the church you
see the place in which St. Francis died, a. d. 1226 ; it is con*
verted into a chapel, and is said to contain, in a shrine, his
heart and entrails, — that is, if he ever had either; one thing
appears certain, if he had the latter, they were not bowels
of compassion.

It is amusing to compare the only acknowledged patri-
mony, the Portiuncula, of the Franciscans, with the crumbs
it has, and still does, cost the community, wherever these idle
drones reside. The friars of this order are in general taken
from the lowest of the people ; they are beastly in their habits,
ignorant in their minds, and unprincipled in their practices.
It is true, they have no fixed revenue, and they send out
foraging parties to beg, as they pretend, their daily bread ;

294 TH£ CAPUCHIN FRIAR, A RENCONTRE.

but in reality, when they enter a house they help themseWeB.
This, in common parlance^ merits no other name than rob-
bing, and I have often seen them do it ; but, perhaps, they
reconcile their consciences like the negro, who, when accoaed
by his master of something very similar, replied, '^ No,
Massa; I take um, but I no tief um," — a sort of casnistfy
very accommodating and comfortable to more conscuences
than Quashy's.

My route lay across the Tiber in the road to Perugia, two
posts off ; and just as I had passed the church outside of a
Tillage standing about mid-way, my attention was arrested
by a capuchin friar galloping after me on a jackass. He dis-
mounted in haste, and ran hopping, for he was lame, and
hallooing and bawling after me. When he came up, for I
stopped for him, an amusing scene ensued ; for the fellow, I
soon discovered, was a spy. It appeared he suspected me of
being a freemason, travelling to disseminate the heretical doc-
trines of the craft among the disaffected. Though no mason,
I kept up the misconception ; and we nipped knuckles and
scratched wrists as if we had both been Scotsmen. The
knave pretended to be a Frenchman, although when be
attempted the language he spoke it most abominably. He
would have it that I, too, was a Frenchman, and would take
no denial ; and to evince that he himself was so, he swore
and blasphemed most lustily, though dressed in his cano-
nicals, and turned the while his cowl and shaven scalp into
ridicule. This rencontre tickled my fancy much at first - tired
at length of the lying impostor, I endeavoured to gel rid of
him, by stretching out and mending my pace ; but though
I made the big drops course down his brow and fiice in a
torrent, it was long to no purpose ; for he limped after, and
stuck to me like a leech. Quite knocked up at last, he
stopped before a house by the road-side, and insisted on my
entering with him. The people were friends of his, he said,
and again he would not be denied ; indeed, he compelled me
to enter, although I could see that the lady of the house gave
us any thing but a friendly welcome. He now set about calling
for a fowl to be cooked, and dinner served with wine, &c. ; but

PBRUGIA — THE CHURCHES. 295

aa I kuew iu what coin capuchins pay for their fare, I
resolutely declined giTing so much trouble; so we had a
bottle of wine only, and some bread. Afraid that the lady of
the house might acquaint me into what hands I had fallen,
he, in the most impudent manner, told her, and that to my
face, that I did not understand a word of Italian ; so, by way
of teasing the friar, I sought every opportunity to address her
in that language, while he, as diligently, strove to interrupt
me. Becoming indignant at the scene, and sick of the farce,
I took an opportunity to slip a trifle into the servant's hand
who attended us, for the trouble I had unwillingly given, and
very unceremoniously bade my fellow-traveller adieu. The
house was near the bottom of the high ground leading up to
Perugia, at which latter place I was again to see my friend
the capuchin, by his own invitation, he assuring me that
under his fraternal patronage I should have nothing to pay
any where for my entertainment.

The evening was now closing around, a storm was brew-
ing over head, and although I put my best foot foremost, it
was late ere I arrived at Perugia.

PERUGIA.

Perugia is a very ancient city, and tradition goes even so
far back as to date its foundation in the year 261 after the
Deluge ! It was reduced to ashes during the wars of the
Triumvirate, and afterwards rebuilt by Augustus, and thence
took his name as a cc^nomen — Perusia Augusta. Modem
Perugia stands on a mountain, and is a fortified town, but
of no great strength. Its churches claim a visit from the
traveller : that of San Lorenzo pretends to possess the
nuptial ring of the Virgin. I did not see the Church of
St. Pbtbr, which, I believe, contains several Paintings by
Perugino and his pupil Raphael. It rained a torrent. I
entered one church only ; but the weather had so darkened
the sky, that it fretted me to strive to see what was invisible ;
and that cursed capuchin having set my back up, lest he
should trouble me any more, I strapped on my knapsack in

296 LAKE OF THRASYMBNUS.

the afternoon^ and started in a right-earnest, wrothful hamoar
to smite, d priori or a posteriori^ the first yilhun of a spy,
priest or layman, who should again attempt to molest me.

A rich and eyer-varying landscape enlivens the way as
far as La Maggiona. Leaving Monte Colonia on the height
to the left, you now descend a steep hill, where the road
winds through an avenue of oaks, and, as you descend, the
lake of Thrasymene suddenly breaks upon the eye, through
an opening in the thick foliage, like the silvery moon
emerging from behind a doiid. There is an osteria at the
bottom ; and as the sun was tumbling fast towards the
horizon as I approached it, and Passignano promising no
better accommodation, it left me little choice in deciding
whether to stay here or perhaps fare worse. Having finished
my little meal, of which some delicious fish from the neigh-
bouring lake made a part, I. strolled out in the evening in
front of my humble resting-place. The reader may have
already perceived that I delight in dreaming awake — that I
delight to contemplate Nature in all guises — in glorious efful-
gence and exuberance — in the utmost wildness and sterility
— amid the wreck she has spread around in her murkiest
moods of anger — and not less so, as seated

*' By the lake with trembling stars inlaid, when earth is still.
And midnight's melancholy pomp is on the distant hill,"

to view her in all her sweetest simplicity. Opening my cane-
seat, I sat down by the side of the lake of Thrasymenus, under
a pavilion formed by a grove of oaks that threw their deep
shadows like a mantle over its mai^gin. The site was cool
and serene ; and the hushing murmur of the sylvan scene
imparted to my wearied senses its quietude and repose ; where
the loudest noise was the whisperings of the passing breexe,
as it bade '< good night" to sleepy leaflets that waved in return
their adieus. Here were vestiges of no bygone convulsion
to harrow up imaginings of contention and turmoil ; and,
surrounded by scenery such as was before me, the mind
enjoys a state of feeling of a totally opposite character to
that excited by witnessing the sublimer disorder of nature.

BATTLE-FIELD OF HANNIBAL AND THE ROMANS. 207

Enveloped in the contemplation of such, 'tis then the hours
glide over the solitary reverist like flitting clouds, and fall in
silence into eternity without making him feel their irrevocable
passage. The haze and rain of the now-spent day, which
had tarnished the gilding on every fresh leaf and flower, had
entirely dissipated ; a beautiful sky, lighted by the full moon,
formed a deep azure vault over the magniflcent landscape
around ; while, among the oaks under which I sat, a beech-
tree reared its lofty head, whose large trunk spread to a
distance its tafted and umbrageous branches, to form a pro-
tecting asylum for Meditation to dwell in — ^the whole seeming
as a temple dedicated by Nature herself to Peace — the peace
'' that passeth all understanding" — under whose shade the
soul instinctively rises up in grateful adoration to the throne
of the Creator of so many wondrous beauties. In this temper
of mind, and with sentiments like these, I retired to my
ru^ed pallet, and forgave the capuchin.

By daylight next morning I had passed Passignano and
its defile, and had entered the Battlb-fibld of Thrast-
MBVUS. Here every step is classic ground, and drenched
with the blood of the slain. But more than enough has
already been written on this theme, so I shall leave the
traveller to his own observations and reflections. I may
merely point out, that it is the third bridge yon come to after
passing the post-house of la Casa del Piano, which crosses
the Sangiiineto — a small stream with a steep embankment
on each side. This is the vantage ground the most likely to
have been chosen by Hannibal for posting his troops to resist
the first attack of the Romans, and hence would prove the
theatre of the most obstinate struggles. If so, no wonder
that this little rill should have obtained the name of the
Sanguineto. How difierent now the ensigns of such a scene !
The field once irrigated with human blood is now planted
with the peaceful olive.

The traveller, on leaving the plain, passes through the
opposite Defile of Borghetto, by which the Carthaginian
army entered. The road winds round the side of a hill, from
which there is a fine view of the lake below — of the three

298 PAPALINO — AREZZO DENDRITIC TYPOLITHI.

islands which appear to float on its surface — and of the vil-
lages that border it, and scatter their unruffled shadows on
its bosorn. Two or three miles farther we quit the Roman
states at the wretched village of PapaUno — they retain-
hvSy to their utmost boundary, the same wretched aspect
that met the eye on entering them at Aquapendenfte. rso
sooner is the traveller across the frontier, and from under
the Ijaneful influence of the papal upas, than he perceives the
contrast between the mild despotism of the Tuscan govern-
ment and the mephitic effect of the j)apal — than which the
breath of the anaconda cannot bo more stifling. He sees it
in a thousand little neatnesses and proprieties the moment he
enters Tuscany. I thought the air more pure, and my mind,
as if it now had room to stretch itself to its ordinary dimen-
sions, experienced that relief which a person feels who has been
long wedged up in a too-crownled vehicle. I slept at Arezzo,
the birth-place of Casalpinus, one of the earliest botanists.

AuKzzo is situated in a flue fertile plain, which, among
other good things, ])roduces excellent wine : the luscious
Aleatica is from this neighbourhood. In the way thither you
pass Cortona, the cajiital of ancient Etruria, situated on a
mountain to the right. After leaving the plain of Arezzo the
comitry becomes hilly, and the geologist will hereabouts observe
a curious change of the earth's surface in progress. The rocks
composing this district are clay-slate and dark-grey sandstone,
but uudergoing decomposition by the w^eather so rapidly,
that the inequalities of the surface are fast being filled up ;
so that what was formerly hilly and uneven is now becoming
a level jilahi. Six posts from Arezzo brings the traveller to
Incisa, in which vicinity those beautiful dendritic specimens
abound in an indurated marl that are to l)e seen every where
in the cabinets of the curious. These dendritic forms have
been considered by some naturalists as the tvpolithi of marine
plants : but very little observation of the less beautiful exam-
])les will shew that they are nothing more than arborescent
crystallisations, frequently borrowing their stem from a capil-
lary rent in the clay. To all appearance it is some metallic
oxide, probably that of manganese, which imprints, in ar-

RETURN TO FLORENCE — PALACE OF PRATOLINO. 299

ranging itself, these pleasing landscapes on the lamina, which,
when in a more fluid state, was diffused through the mass.
The scenery now becomes more embellished the nearer you
approach Florence. In the route you cross the Amo ; and,
by following its left bank, the traveller arriyes once more in
this celebrated seat of the arts.

Florence. — When last here, I had omitted visiting some
places and objects from want of time, and among others, the
Pratolino, and paintings in the Accadcmia delle Belle Arti,
which I now had leisure to do ; but, by an accident, I lost
the notes I took ; and the impressions made, particularly by
the latter, are so much effaced, that I dare not venture to
retouch them. Among the paintings in the Academy, the
visitor will find several by the best masters of the Florentine
and Lombard schools — as Ghirlandaio, Andrea del Sarto,
the AUori, Carlo Dolce, Rosselli, &c., besides several original
cartoons by Fra. Bartolomeo, Pietro da Cortona, Baroccio,
Cignani, Franceschini, and others. In the Gallery appro-
priated to the casts in plaster of the most celebrated statues
both here and at Rome, the visitor ought to note in parti-
cular a superb Tabernacle, painted by Giovanni da San
Giovanni, representing the Repose in Egypt, and a Paris-
plaster cast of the celebrated B&onzs Door of the Baptistery
of St. John.

Five miles on the Bologna road from Florence, formerly
was situated the superb Palace of Pratolino ; but its splen-
dour has dissipated with the evanescence of a rainbow. Its
walls are levelled with the ground ; and, save the colossal
Statue of the Apenninb, the work and prodigy of the
gigantic genius of John de Bologna, nothing else remains to
guide the imagination in forming a vision of what had once
realised an Arabian Night's tale. The fountain at the foot of
the statue still flows, but the organ which played by the fall
of its waters — the grotto of the sibyl, adorned with figures in
marble and alabaster — the floating dolphin, on the back of
which the visitors might ride — the grotto of the god Pan,
who played on the flute while artificial birds carolled in

300 STATUE OF THE APENNINE — ROUTE TO BOLOGNA.

response to the music — those walls of coral, of mother-of-
pearly and precious stones — those delicious bowers, gashing
cascades which appeared to start into life, and statues that
almost spoke, and all those scenes of enchantment — are fled
like a fairy dream firom off the awaking eyelid of morning.
The statue of the Apennine must be seen, for it cannot be
conceived ; and, without meaning to depict it, I may mention
that it is built of pieces of rock, so artfully put together as
to preserve the most perfect proportion : natural stalactites
form its tangled and hoary beard. The greatest curiosity is
to enter the body of the Apennine. This you do through an
opening in its back, and, when there, yon ascend by a flight
of steps through the neck into his cranium ; and here the
visitor cannot help being surprised at finding himself in an
apartment large enough to dine six people conveniently, and,
like Jonah of old, seeing through other eyes, and breathing
through another's nostrils.

I returned to Florence, preparatory to crossing the Apen-
nines, with the chief purpose of visiting the natural flame of
fire which issues night and day fi*om a spot in the neighbour-
hood of Pietra Mala. A traveller frequently has cause to
wish, after the manner of Sir Boyle Roadi, that, ** like a
bird, he could be in two places at once ;" in which case I
should have practised this bipartition at Foligno, by starting
over the Apennines to Loretto, and thence to Bologna, after
having seen Rimini and Ravenna. It was Pythagoras, I
think, who asserted that man's progenitors were fish : it is to
be regretted, for travellers' sake, they were not polypi, for
then, by cutting a man into slices, his four quarters might
have been visiting those of the world at one and the same
time. However, despite of all wishing to the contrary, and
I never knew much got by the practice, I was obliged to set
out as one and indivisible on the route to Bologna.

For the first seven miles the road continues to ascend.
Two miles from Florence you meet with micaceous sand-
stone ; above this lies an impure sandstone, of a clayey
aspect ; but as you mount it gets clear of this impurity, and
becomes much veined with calcareous spar. The road now

TRE MASCHERE-^PIETRA MALA — THE FUOCO. 801

descends ; and, after following the wiodings of a ravine for
0ome distance, passing through Fontebaono, Tagliferro, and
Cafaggiolo, yon again begin to ascend, which continues un-
interruptedly until you get to the post-house of Tre Maschere.
Tbb Maschbbb is situated on the summit of the central
ridge of the Apennines. The view from this commanding
spot is beautifully varied ; here, mountainous, sterile, and
rugged ; there, smoothed by the velvet hand of culture,
adorned with clumps of forest-trees, or graced by sloping
hills : now bleak, and barren, and precipitous, the abode of
the eagle and the vulture ; now peopled with smiling viUages
amid wooded valleys and plains, that yield their fruits in boun-
teous profusion, in reward of the labourer's toil. From Tre
Maschere the road descends, for about eight miles, to Pibtba
Mala. I arrived at dusk of the evening, just in time to
thread my way to the Fuoco, as it is called, which is about
a mile's walk from the inn. The circular space occupied by
the flame may be sixteen feet in diameter, within which no
herbage grows : the ground is strewed with small limestone
nodules, among which little apertures, like ant-holes, open
on the surface, and from these the flame issues. Its colour is
pale red, changing firom that to blue, and, as far as I could
ascertain, without any perceptible odour. It rose to the
height of six or seven inches, and burned with a flickering
flame, leaving no soot or deposit round the edge of the aper-
ture. From all the consideration I could give this curious
phenomenon, I came to the conclusion that it proceeded from
the combustion of hydrogen, arising from the decomposition
of water in contact with pyrites in a state of spontaneous
combustion. At what depth this takes place it is impossible
to conjecture; but it would solve the question in favour of
Lemery's old idea respecting the origin of volcanic flre, if, at
some future period, this spark should be that which is to
ignite thie train of some volcano in the neighbourhood — a
catastrophe not improbable, if, as they say, earthquakes are
sometimes felt in the surrounding mountains.* Travellers,

• The sacred fires of Uie Parsis, inXartary, which are continually burning,
were so increased before the earthquake that reduced the city of Bakou to

302 THE FUOCO — THB ACQUA BQLLE.

repeating Pliny's words, hare continued to describe the Fnoco
at Pietra Mala as a diminutive volcano up to this day ; but
no epithet can be more premature, to say the least of it. In
fact, the inflammation of the gas that issues from the con-
duits described, had probably been, at first, a matter of acci-
dent ; and, at present, it is well known to be a matter of
artifice whenever the flame becomes extinguished from any
cause. This is a circumstance capable also of analogous de-
monstration, by an experiment usually shewn by the rude
cicerone of the place, at a spring of water a short mile distant
from the inn, on the slope of the mountain behind it. This,
in the guide-books, is usually denoted the Acqtui JBuia, an
appellation not at all applicable, as the water is perfectly
clear. The people of the place call it the *^ Acqua Bolls,"
the latter word being a corrupt abbreviation, I take it, of
Bollente. I accompanied the guide to the spot : it was now
quite dark, the best time for making the experiment: he
had a lantern with a light in it. The spring is shallow,
small, oval,, not above three or four feet in each broadest
dimension ; and from all parts of its surface, and from around
its margin, multitudes of bubbles arise, causing a constant
boiling. These bubbles, when the hand is held over them,
communicate no heat ; but you have only to apply a lighted
taper to the sur&ce of the water to produce their immediate
inflammation. This curious appearance, in like manner, is
not difficult to explain — it being merely the escape of the
same gas through a portion of the same water, probably,
which furnishes a source for its own decomposition. No
herbage surrounds the immediate border of this little pool.

The Fubco is described as rising to a much greater h^ht
in stormy and rainy weather ; globules of fire dart upwards,
and are lost in the atmosphere, while the surrounding moun-
tains glare luridly on the scene, and appear, amid the gloom
of night, like spectres round the cauldron of some wizard

ruins, that they illuminated the whole horixon ; and Humboldt mentions, that
near to Cumana (S. America), he saw two caverns situated in calcareous
mountains, whence flames issued, and ascended at timet to the height of a
hundred feet.

8CARICA l'aSINO BOLOONA. 303

incantation. This effect is produced, if I am not mistaken,
by the density of the atmosphere on the surface mechanically
obstructing tiie free ascent of the gas, by which the com-
bustion of the hydrogen is more complete, and thus attains a
greater height ; for I do not conceive that the gas is gene-
rated in larger quantity by any state of the weather, but that
its production is regulated by causes wholly unconnected
with it.

I saddled myself next morning as usual, and was on the
trot by daylight. Three miles from Pietra you pass through
Filigare, and a bow-shot hence the traveller comes to a
bridge, which separates the Tuscan from the Bolognese terri-
tory. A mile and a half farther brought me to Sgarica
l'Asino ; so, taking a gentle hint from the name of the
place, I took off my knapsack and baited — I beg pardon — I
meant to say, I breakfasted. Here the country assumes a most
savage aspect. What ! in the holy father's states again ?
Yea, verily ; the truth must be told, all bulls, decretals, Cle-
mentines, code9^ charts, rescripts, sextiles, edicts, and summs-
papal to the contrary notwithstanding. Look to the left and
view it : regard these sterile rocks, those mountain summits,
made bald by the unshod tread of the Storm, whose rugged
brows, deeply furrowed with the uncouth wrinkles of Time,
tell of times and seasons not exactly halcyon. The scene
softens in asperity the nearer you approach Poggioli, within
two miles of which you leave the limestone formation of the
Apennines ; and the plain, stretching to the Adriatic, broke
on my eye through a blue mist, which hung in perspective
density on the horizon, and appeared in the distance like
the sea. By nightfall I had arrived at Bologna.

BOLOGNA.

Bologna is the second city in the ecclesiastical states, and
one of the largest and finest in Italy. It is situated at the
foot of the Apennines, on the ancient ^milian way, which led
from Rome to the north of Italy. The origin of its name,
and its early history, are quite conjectural : all that is known

304 BOLOGNA — THE STATUE OF NEPTUNE.

with certainty, is, that it became a Roman colony about six
hundred years before the Christian era. The Bolognese bear
a yery unsteady character, and have often revolted against
the authority of the pope : at one time, the most abject of the
subjected, when overcome ; at another, the most insupportably
arrogant, when temporarily successful in their efforts to
throw of the yoke of papal dominion.

The town occupies a circuit of five miles, and contains
70,000 inhabitants and 200 churches : it is well built, and
the streets have arcades on each side throughout their whole
length, which protect the fi>ot-passengers from the sun and
rain. The form of the city is much longer than it is wide,
and has suggested the idea of comparing it to the hull of a
ship, with the high tower of Asinelli standing in the centre
as its mast.

Before visiting the churches or public institutions, I de-
voted the first day to strolling about the town to learn its
geography, and to see the lions at large. The Towbb ov
AsiNBLLi has nothing but its height to attract notice ; and
that of the Gabisbndi, nothing but its obliquity from the
perpendicular. A late intelligent traveller has aptly com-
pared the latter to a stack of bricks ; but rude though this
structure be as a specimen of architecture, it yet furnished
the prototype for its more elegant rival — the Hanging Tower
of Pisa. Proceeding onward, I came to the Piaxza dbl
Nbttuno, so named from a bronze statue of that god which
adorns a fountain — the chef-^ceuvre of John de Bologna.
This fine statue stands on a handsome pedestal, holding a
trident in his hand : the attitude is easy and dignified, and
the expression of the countenance noble and striking. Con-
trasted with Bandinelli's representation of the same figure at
Florence, this appears the deity who *' rules the waves;"
that, the tyrant of the ocean, " who rides the whirlwind, and
directs the storm." And yet this statue has one fistult that
obtrudes itself on the eye ; and that is, the awkward angle
made by the right leg with the body, which destroys the
beautiful outline of the figure, viewed in almost any position
except in front. Here you lose the asperity of the angle by

CHURCHES — SAN PETRONIO SAN DOBfENICO. 305

the foreshortening of the eye; otherwise, the most imposing
point of view is that directly to the left, where its perfections
are seen most conspicuously. Around the cornice of the
pedestal are four sea-nymphs, riding on dolphins in rather
indecorous attitudes, pressing streamlets of water from their
breasts with their hands. The god of storms, by the way, is
treated by his salt-water acquaintances — the nymphs — as if
he were a flower that fed on dew-drops, for the puny asper-
sions from the fontlets scarcely moisten him.

In the same piazza, the visitor will find the Palazzo Pub-
Buco and the Church of Sam Pbtbonio. This church is of
Gothic architecture, and one of the largest in Italy. Over the
porch you see a statue in bronze of the Pope (Grboort XIII.)
who instituted f6tes in commemoration of the atrocious mas-
sacre of St. Bartholomew. It is remarkable, also, for being
the place in which Charles V. was crowned by Clement VII. ;
and on the pavement you see traced the famous Meridian,
executed by Domenico Cassini in 1695, the gnomon of which
is 83 feet high and 206 in length. In the evening I went to
the public promenade, and afterwards to the cf>era, to hear
Rossini's T€nicredi, leaving the following day for toils of less
excursive pleasure.

Chubch of St. Dominick. — This church has a magni-
ficent chapel within, enriched with lamps and chandeliers of
massive silver, dedicated to the saint from whom it takes its
name: its walls enclose his ashes, and their sides are em-
bellished with paintings representative of his life and miracles.
In the tribune. you see an Adobation of thb Maqi, and to
the left of the grand altar, St. Thomas Aquinas writing
by the inspiration of Angels, by Guercino.* The seats in
the choir are ornamented with beautiful inlaid work by
Francisco da Bergamo, and represent passages in the Old and
New Testament. In the convent attached to the church they
shew the cell in which St. Dominick lived and died; and
the library contains some invaluable MSS. on parchment^

* For a more complete list of the paintiDgs to be seen in the churches
Ice. of Bologna, turn to the catalogues.

X

300 CHURCHES — SAN PAOLO THE DUOMO.

and one in particular, written, as some think, by Esdras,
with his own hand, while others again ascrilje it to one
I'^phora, who lived in the reign of Cyrus.

The church the most celebrated for its paintings is that
of St. Paul, usually called on this account La Galleria.
Here the visitor will see masterly specimens by the pencils of
IjkI. Caracci, (Tuercino, Spagnoletto, and several by Cave-
(h)ne and other pupils of the Caracci school. Guercino's
PiiiGATORY is in the cross to the right, and Lud. Caracci's
Paradise in the second chapel to the left of the grand altar.
A painting in the chapel of the Holy Cross (the first to the
right as you enter) is finely treated ; it is by Ma^telleti, and
represents Oir Saviocr in tue Garden. An angel holds
in his hands the cross and the cup, and as Christ seems to
utter '' rsot my will, ])ut thine, be done,*' the artist has thrown
into the countenance of the victim for man's atonement a depth
of sentiment which, in any representation of the same subject
I have yet seen, never was more emphatically expressed.
Cain killing his Brother is another fine, though terrific,
painting ; and in the tJiird chapel to the left there is some
skilful foreshortening in a painting depicting the Mor-
tality OF THE Plague at Milan, by Garbieri.

Cathedral of St. Peter. — This church likewise con-
tains several excellent paintings ; among which, that repre-
sentino; Christ delivering the keys to St. Peter in the
presence of the other apostles, is deserving of particular
notice. It is a fresco by Aretusi, and occupies the dome of
the tribune. Note also the last work of Ludovico Caracci —
a fine fresco of the Annunciation. The chapter of this
church likewise contains a beautiful painting by the same
ixreat master — Mary lamenting over the body of Our
Saviour. She is seated, leaning her arm on a table, before
which St. Peter is seen kneeling : the Magdalen, St. John,
and another apostle, stand in the background. The grief of
all is deep and silent ; there is no audible lamentation — it is
too stupifying to be capable of utterance ; while the rich and
dee}) tone of colouring given to the whole corresponds with

CELEBRAtfiD MEN — UNIVERSITY, ITS MUSEUM. 307

the profound melancholy of the scene. A Baptism ov Our
Saviour, by Grraziani, which is placed over the font, is also
good : there is a softness and sweetness abont the colouring
which make it pleasing; but, perhaps, some part of the
design is harsh, from the too angular outline of the joints.

Bologna has been long celebrated for the eminent men
it has produced, both in science and in the arts. In the
former department Galvani stands distinguished ; and science,
to shew her gratitude, has matriculated his name among
the other branches of knowledge which she teaches — galvan-
ism. Volta, also, was a native of Bologna, and the micro-
metrical physiologist Malpighi. This city has given five
popes to the Romish church, and more than a hundred
cardinals, among whom many were men of great merit.
The fine arts are not less indebted to Bologna, and it is only
necessary to mention the Caracci, Ghiido, Sirani, Domeni-
chino, and Albani, to shew the weight of the obligation ;
the ashes of three of whom, Guido, Ludovico Caracci, and
Elizabeth Sirani, repose in the church of St. Dominick.

The Univbrsitt of this city is still the most celebrated
in Italy, though much fallen from its former reputation. It
was instituted by Theodosius the younger in 425 ; afterwards
rebuUt by Charlemagne, and enlarged by Lothaire. In
former times it excelled eminently in all the sciences, more
particularly in civil and canonical jurisprudence ; and hence
came the apothegm ** Bologna docet."

The Museum of the University is rich in objects of an-
tiquity and natural history, and plentifully furnished with
all the apparatus connected with physics. Here, also, the
visitor will see the first wax anatomical preparations ever
made. They were executed by Giovanni Manzolini and his
wife, under the auspices of Benedict XIV., who was a native
of Bologna. Among the natural objects of rarer curiosity,
I may mention the typolithus of a bird, an organic vestige
so seldom met with ; a large loadstone from Elba, weighing
above 600 lbs., and a fine preparation of the Limulus Poly-
piemuSf from the West Indies. In the department of the
fine arts, observe several dbhes in ismanieoy the designs

308 ACCADEM lA DBLLE BBLLE ARTI.

omamenting which are by GKulio Romano, and a smaB
BRONZB Nept0nb, John de Bologna's premiire pensie of the
snperb statue we saw in the great square.

I next visited the Agcadbmia dbllb Bblle Arti, where
the finest specimens of the Bolognese school of painting are
collected together, taken chiefly from the churches of the
city and placed here. A r^ard to my limits will only allow
me to notice a few of them.

In the first room the visitor will see a fuU-length figore
of the Magdalbn, by Timoteo Vite, a pupil of Raphael, of
exquisite beauty ; but traits of grief have had no charms for
this graceful but graceless artist, for he makes the frail sister
of sin neglect to disfigure her beauteous countenance with
any effort to force a tear.

In the second, let him observe a St. John preachiko ik
THE Dbsert, by Ludovico Caracci. It is a bold and finely
toned painting, yet soft and harmonious withal.

The third contains a number of splendid paintings
Guidons Crucifixion combines all that painting could per-
forip, or 'SO fine a subject afford — ineffable resignation to the
Divine will in the sufferer, and most affectionate sympathy
and affecting grief in the beholders. St. Paul's Cohybii-
BiON, again, by the same artist, is not less masterly treated.
St. Paul is on the ground, and his countenance expresses
awe and horror in the most frightful degree as he looks to
the heavens, where the light beams speakingly: the horse
even seems to hear the terrific words, ** Saul, Saul, why
persecutest thou me?" This room also contains a Transfi-
guration by Ludovico, which, though it cannot bear a com-
parison with Raphael's, is still a fine painting.

Samson, by Guide, appeared to me a fiiilure : the figure
is not gigantic enough to answer my idea of this Hercules
of the Israelites ; the attitude also is bad — it is too stu-
died, and conveys offensively the idea of that of a po6tur&>
master.

Albani's Baptism of Christ in the River Jordan, again^
is a painting without a fault. Independent of a richness of
colouring that no words can depict, the extraordinary relief

ACCADEMIA — THE PAINTINGS* 300

thrown on parts of this superb painting by the magic skill of
the artist defies conception. It possesses all the relief of
statuary with the reality which colouring imparts to design :
the left arm of the Saviour is beyond wonder.

Domenichino's Martyrdom of St. Agnes is another
astonishing painting, as far as the art of mere painting goes ;
bat it wants the soul of the preceding. The executioner has
plunged his sword deep into her bosom ; the mangled corses
of other martyrs lie strewed in gore at her feet ; yet the
by-standers around look on with an apathetic indifference
unsuitable to the horror and atrocity of such a scene.

Opposite to this is an allegorical painting by the same
master, representing the Persecution and final Triumph
OF Christianity; wherein it is difiicult which most to
admire, the enchanting sweetness of the Virgin, or the divine
beauty of the infant Christ.

Here, likewise, observe a superb Assumption of the
Virgin,' by Sabatino.

The fourth and last room is studded in like manner with
gems of art, including several of the creations of some of the
first masters. Never was horror more frightfully portrayed
than in Domenichino's Death of Peter the Martyr ; a
soldier stands over the fallen saint, about to smite him, while
Peter spreads abroad his arms to save himself — the scene, a
landscape. In Guido's Murder of the Innocents, fright,
horror, and despair, contend for the mastery, amid scenes of
blood and death. The painting is in the artist's first manner
and richest tone of colouring. His Pista, again, though in
appearance a double picture, is so beautifully composed that
the eye wanders round the group as if entangled in the mazes
of a magic circle. Guido was a pupil of Caravaggio's, and
this painting is in his master's style.

The Death of St. Francis, by Cesi, a pupil of Guido.
Rich landscape scenery fills up the background, in front of
which you see St. Francis in the last agonies of expiring life,
supported by two angels, of such exquisite beauty and sweet-
ness of countenance, that to die in such arms must be a
foretaste of the bliss that awaits the righteous.

310 SAN MICHELE IN QQSCO — BOIX>ONA STONE.

The Mabbiaqb op St. Cathebimb, by Tlarini, is another
channing picture.

The last I shall notice is Raphael's St. Cbcilia. — The
group composing this charming painting consists of St. Panl,
St. Jol|p, Cecilia, St. Augustin, and the Magdalen : a choir
of angels hover in the sky, and various instruments of music
are on the ground. St. Cecilia represents the very soul of
music, and the Magdalen is equally beautiful ; no longer
the weeping, dishevelled, emaciated penitent, but, with the
rivalry inherent in the sex, she puts in her claim to share ia
the admiration of the beholder, which, in strict pictorial
justice, ought to belong principally to the chief subject of the
painting. The two female saints divide betwixt them Mil*
ton's description of the Mother of all saints ; for, in the Mag-
dalen, '* grace in all her steps,*' is exemplified, and in Cecilia,
" heaven in her eye."

There are some objects outside the gates of Bologna
worth visiting. The Church of San Michblb in Bosoo is
delightfully situated on a rising ground, a short walk distant
from the gate of San Mamolo. The mount on which it stands
commands a view of Bologna, and of the plain extending to
the Adriatic on the east, and of the Euganean mountains that
intervene between Verona and Bologna on the north. I
must refer to the Appendix for a list of the paintings in tliis
church; yet I cannot help particularising a fresco painting
over the archway leading under the dome, representing the
Aroh ANGEL Michael dbiving out thb rebbllious ksonus
VEOM Heaven. It is full of foreshortenings of most asto>
nishing skil} : as you stand below them they threaten to &11
upon you. It is by Lionel Spada.

A natural curiosity, peculiar to Bologna, is the Boloqna
Stone. It is found in the neighbourhood of Monte Paderao,
and its singular property of becoming luminous was first dis-
covered, in 1630, by a cobbler, named Vincent Cassiorolo.
To produce this efiect, it is necessary first to dip it in oil or
water, and afterwards calcine it, when, by exposing it in the
sun for a few seconds, it throws out a strong phosphorescent
light in the dark, and remains so for four or five minutes.

CHURCH Of THB MADONNA DI S. LUCA. 811

Hie light of a candle will Buffioe to give it this property, but
not that of the moon. Even without calcination it imbibes
light on exposure ; but its phosphorescent radiation is but
momentary* Analysis gives the following substances as the
components of the Bologna pyrophorus : sulphate of barytes^
allezy alum, gypsum, and a trace of oxide of iron. It is semi«
transparent, of a pearly lustre, a lamellar and fibrous struc*
tare, and not particularly heavy. Movtb Padbrno is about
three miles from the Porta San Mamolo. About a mile from
the town the road forks ; take that leading up the height ;
the other goes by a brook's side. A quarter of a mile before
arriving at Monte Pademo, which the traveller will see
straight in front, let him turn down a pathway to the right,
and he presently comes amongst heaps of this singular mi*
neral. The ground is very uneven all around the ne^h-
bourhood, and detached expositions of it, occupying a circuit
of about two miles, are dispersed over the space. The sur«
rounding hills consist of indurated marl.

From Monte Pademo I made a bird's-flight path of it to
the Church of the Madonna dblla Ovardia, so named
from there having been a watch-tower there formerly. In the
oom-fields which I had to cross, the white-heart cherry grew
in juicy luxuriance without further culture ; and vines crept
in tangled garlands from tree to tree, embracing with their
ruddy bunches the lily-white cheeks of the cherry. The
church was about three miles off, over hedge and ditch, bush
and briar ; but that was nothing, when it is recollected that
I was in search of a sample of the art of painting by the
evangelic pencil of St. Luke himself, the miraculous history
of which is as follows : — The painting is a correct Portrait
OP TUB Virgin Mary, and was brought, it seems, by a
hermit from Constantinople, in the time of the Emperor
Barbarossa, where he found it in the church of St. Sophia,
authenticated by an inscription in Latin, written by the artist's
own hand, in which was predicted that a church would
one day be specially built for it on the spot where this
now stands, and that it would be placed over the high altar,
there to be adored: and, certes, no Scotch prt^beey ever

312 A PAINTING BT 8T. LUKE.

turned out more correct. All prophecies, it may be well to
remark, especially from the time of Merlin upwards, pro-
vided they be made (as is, indeed, usual on all prodigious
occasions) after the event has happened, are almost certain
to prove true ; but without this trifling, yet necessary pre-
liminary, even Scotch prophecies lack an essential towards
their sure and perfect fulfilment and verification. A priest
was so obliging as to shew me the painting that gave need
and occasion for the posthumous prophecy alluded to above.
It is enclosed in a superb beaufet of massive, chased silver,
on opening which he repeated a short prayer : he next
removed a sliding door of silver, richly inlaid with gold,
behind which was the portrait of the Madonna. You see
nothing but the face ; her nose is somewhat aquiline and
Judaic, and her features, taken altogether, are rather hand-
some : over which crosses and other ornaments of large
emeralds and other lustrous stones diffiise an artificial glory.
The priest, on shutting it up, prayed again. This miraculous
painting — for the very sight of it, it seems, performs wonders
— though not exactly a daub, yet I must say, but with mil
due reverence, that the artist performed no miracle in paint-
ing it ; and Bonaparte, no bad judge of these matters, thought
so too, it appears, for he generously left it to the church ;
but he did not remember to forget to take away several other
paintings by a less pretending artist — Guide Reni.

This Church of the Madonna di San Luca^ as it is some-
times called, is seated on a mountain, and commands a fine
prospect of the surrounding country, and of the magnificent
portico which conducts the pilgrim a distance of three miles,
under six hundred and fifty arcades, from the gate of Sara-
gossa up to the portico of the church. Its interior is hand-
some, though small. The high altar is enriched with a
massive silver-gilt tabernacle, with five large candlesticks of
the same metal on each side. There are two paintings in
the sacristy relative to the history of the miraculous portrait :
all I could learn regarding them was, that they were of the
Roman school.

The traveller must not leave Bologna before visiting the

CAMPO SANTO AELIA LiELIA CRISPIS' EPITAPH. 313

Campo Santo, or Cimitario. Though not to be likened with
that at Pisa, it is nevertheless extremely neat, having an
open space in the centre, and arcades on the sides. Some of
the tombs are remarkable, not for their sculptare, for that is
indifferent, but for the illustrious personages they commemo-
rate : among others, those of the first two bishops of Bologna
are conspicuous ; and distinguished talents draw attention
to that of Clotilda Tambronia, who in her lifetime publicly
taught Greek: she died in 1817. In the Carthusian church
attached to the Cimitario, there are several paintings by able
masters, one only of which I shall here notice, Mascaro's
Christ beariko his Cross to Mount Calvary. The artist
for some crime took sanctuary in the church, and during his
refuge he executed this painting. The then cardinal-bishop
of Bologna, it seems, was his bitterest persecutor ; and, in
revenge, Mascaro has introduced his portrait on the canvass.
The figure dragging forward the Saviour, who has fallen, by
a rope over his head, is intended for the cardinal ; and, in
order to designate him more particularly, he has put a red
hat on his head. But this church possesses tokens of a more
enviable feeling than revenge — the chains of Christian cap-
tives redeemed from the Turks and Algerines !

Before leaving Bologna for Ferrara I was anxious to see
the &mous enigmatical epitaph, to solve which has puzzled
ingenuity more than the Gordian knot. I had read some-
where that it was to be found three miles from Bologna,
going out of the town by the Porta Mascarella ; but after a
fruitless search I was obliged to relinquish the pursuit. A copy
on parchment, written in the old Grothic character, is preserved
at Milan, which I shall present as a crux for the curious :

D. M.

AELIA . JsS.Uk . CRISPIS .

Nec vity nee muUeVy nee androgynoy

Nee puelloy necjuvenii, nec anuM^

Nec casta, nec meretrixy nec pudicoy

Sed omnia,

Suhlata

Neguefame, neque/erroy neque venenoy

Sedcnumbm.

314 ASSASSINATIONS AT BOLOGNA.

Nee dUo, nee aquU, nee terns,
Sed ubigvejacet*

LUCIUS . AGATHO . PRISCIUS .

Nee maritus, nee amatory nee necesuriuMy
Neque marenty negue gattdensy nequeflens,

Hanc
Nee moiem, nee pyramidemt nee eepdeknmy

Sed omnia,
Seii, et nescit cut potuerit, *

During my stay in thb city a most atrocious occoirenoe
took place, se^en persons having been assassinated in one
night. The preceding day had been fine, when, as not on-
frequently happens in southern climates, about ten o'clock in
the evening a violent thunder'Storm, accompanied with a
torrent of rain, suddenly came on. I was luckily at home
this evening, copying out the pencil-notes I had made daring
the day. Two assassins took advantage of the obscurity of
the arcades, which I have mentioned as lining the streets of
Bologna, and of the storm, which had now rendered them
darker still, to sally forth and first murder, and then rob,
every one they met. Six had already fallen their victims
before the police got on the pursuit, when a earabintera
coming up with the murderous villains, commanded them to
stop ; one of the two coolly drew a pistcd from his breast
and shot half of the poor fellow's fieuse off, and thos escaped.
The very next evening, by way, as I suppose, of enlivening
the impression of such an event, and delighting the worthy
inhabitants of Bolc^a by presenting it before their eyes as
near to the life as possible, there was enacted, at the Teatro
Communale a horrible melo-drama, according as closely to
the passing circumstances as the story would allow. I heard
that the theatre was crowded ! It was easy to perceive, in
the different cafes, that the dreadful events of the preceding
night were the universal topic of the day ; next day, even, it
held its ground : the third came, and it was forgotten ! We
manage these things in a more business-like way in England.
Is an obscure gambler murdered by a brother swindler? lo!
the newspapers teem with the most minute particulars, proxi-
mate and remote, of the case — the entire accidents, the

ITS CLIMATE — BOUTJS TO FKRRARA. 315

whole of the aeeesBorieB; feeording them in detail, with the
meet laudable ecrapulotity, for at least rix weeks thereafter.
The scene must be carved in wood, and all the letters of the
alphabet called into requisition, to denote the precise spot of
every step of the interesting proceeding. The felon's clothes
even are not safe from the memento-keeping hands of the
curious in the horribles ; and every leaf, twig, and branch,
of any unfortunate tree that might witness the scene, are
forthwith lopped off to affi>rd memorials for future generations
to brood over, ponder over, prose over, with never-dying,
horror-loving, shoe-shaking delight. Then comes the trial,
accompanied with its portraits, its plans, its aocusations, its
defence ; next the execution, the last dying speech, the con-
fession, the dissection. Even here the matter is not left at
rest, fer the craniolo^st must — for it is a matter of necessi^
— he must find bumps of acquisition, bumps of destruction, and,
in short, of every other construction, to make it manifest that
the man was indisputably and inevitably bom to be hanged,
and not to be drowned I Now, in Italy, they are so parsimonious
of their feelings, that such life-stirring matters do not make
even a three days' wonder. I may mention, en passant^ that
I learned from the carabiniere who examined my passport at
the gate as I was leaving Bologna, that no trace of the assas-
sins had been discovered, and, in fact, that the search was given
up : this was not more than a week after the murders.

The country about Bologna is healthy, but the winters are
severe, from its vicinity to the Apennines : the soil is fertile and
provisions cheap ; the beef is excellent, and was selling at two-
pence per pound : every epicure knows its celebrated morta-
dellas. * The traveller may go by the canal to Ferrara. I, as
was my wont, saddled myself with my knapsack and trudged.

The country hence to Ferrara is flat and uninteresting.
While resting myself at Mai Borghetio, I was asked if I bad
met any one in my way ; and on replying in the negative,
the people told me, that only the day preceding a former had
been stopped by a footpad, whose first salutation was that of
firing a pistol at him. The ball, by a fortunate chance, hit

arm instead of his body, breaking the bone ; the ruffian

316 A BEGGAR FERRARA.

then proceeded deliberately to rifle him. This accoont caused
me to think it was time to look about me a little more
sharply. With the propensity to conjare up an adventure, I
started, and I was not long in meeting with what appeared to
me to be the reality. Proceeding on my way, I perceived a
fellow a-head looking, as I fancied, with some anxiety around
him, to observe whether any one else was in sight ; and as I
approached directly up to him — for that was the part I took
under suspicious circumstances — I thought I could see inde-
cision in his countenance and action : he advanced a step or
two, then stopped ; now watched my approach, now turned
aside ; at length, when close up with him, he had taken his
part, and only asked ** charity, for the love of God." I gave
the wretch a trifle, under the idea, that if driven to the com-
mission of crime through stem necessity, this might, perhaps,
turn his mind, and dissuade him from it; but I observed, or
thought I observed, as I returned my money into my pocket,
that he eyed it with the longing of avidity : '' Let no one,"
uttered I inwardly, *' demand of me my purse or my life ; for
if he do, I know which I would first part with/' — it was the
one you netted for me, Clara.

The traveller passes the Rheno in a boat, about twenty-
one miles from Bologna ; and he may observe abimdanoeof
limestone gravel in his route, formed, in all probability,
when the present relative levels of the Adriatic and the land
differed inversely.

FERRARA.

This city, the ancient Forum Alibni, formerly belonged
to the princes of the noble house of Este. After the death of
Alphoneo the Second, the last duke of Ferrara, it was claimed
and appropriated by Pope Clement VIII. in 1597, in con-
sequence of a certain donation which it was pretended the
Princess Matilda, of this august house, made to Holy See of
all her possessions in 1077. Under her dukedom the state
of Ferrara flourished, and the arts of elegance and utility
were every where cultivated and patronised. As soon as it
was annexed to the popedom, it then ate of the upas, under

THE CHURCHES — TASSO'S CELL. 317

whose baneful influence the arts fled, its lustre tarnished, and
its former prosperity and fertility, the *' magna parens fru-
gum,* were changed to sterility and wretchedness, no longer
claiming from its richness the fancied derivation of its name,
" Fere aurea^

It is said with truth of Ferrara, that there are more houses
than inhabitants. The fine palace of the Bentivoglio family,
the ornament of this once flourishing city, is in ruins; some
of the churches contain paintings of merit by Grarofalo and
other masters. Observe a Dbcollatiok of St. Johk in
the DuoMO, where the chiaro-scuro is finely managed, and
the subject poetically conceived : it is in the first chapel to
the right on entering. That of S. Fbakcbsco Grande is
enriched with several paintings not less worthy of notice.
There is a beautiful fresco in the first chapel on the right
hand, of fine design and admirable expression — the artist,
Volta Paletto — the subject, Judas betbatino Jesus with
A Kiss. A Holt Family, Christ healing the Sick, a
ViBGiN AND Child seated on a pedestal, and the Mubdeb
OF THE Innocents, by Garofalo, are likewise fine paintings*
A St. Agnes, and a Descent fbom Calvaby, are not less
excellent. The Chubch of Sta. Mabia in Vado possesses a
very charming Ascension, after the manner of Garofalo.

The old ducal palace is surrounded by a moat, and, except
as a memorial of its former government, ofiiers nothing to
claim attention. It is otherwise with the Hospital of St.
Anne, where you see the cell in which the poet Tasso was
confined so long through the unjust tyranny of the Duke of
Ferrara. Over the door you read :

mSPETTATB . O . POSTERI .
LA . CELEBBITA . DI . QUESTA . STANZA .

DOVE

TORQUATO . TASSO .

ZNFEKMO . PZU . DI . TEISTEZZA . CHE . DELIRIO •

DETEMUTO . DIMORO . ANNI . VII. MESE . II.

SCRISSE . VBRSI . E . PROSE .

B . FU . REMESSO . IN . LIBEBTA .

AL . INSTANZA . DELLA . CITTA . DI . BBROAMO .

NEL . OIORNO . VII. LUOLIO . MDLXXXVI.

31S STUDIO POBBLfOO — AfllOSTO'S TOMB.

It was in thi» dangeon that tksso finished his '* Jetnalem De-
Kyered." On the walls yon read the wcwJ " Btboit/' scratched,
as the enstode told me, by himself, amidst a mnltitude of
names which ** nobody knows."

Ariosto's Tomb, in the Studio Pubblico, sheds its lustre
on, and adds interest to, Ferrara. It is snrmonnted by a hand-
some bust of the poet supported ou the head of a cherubini :
Gnarini wrote the inscription :

MOTUS . ET . HESPEftllS . JACET . BIC • AftlOSTUS . ET . IVDIS,
CUI . MUSA • CTEBNUM . NOMEH . HETRU9CA . DEDIT .
SEt7 . SATTRAM . IN . VITIA . EXACUXT, SEU . COMIC A . LUSIT .
8SV . CECIMIT . GRAND A . BELLA . DI7CESQUE . TUBA .
TBR . SUMMVS VATES . COI . DOCTI . IN . VERTICE . PIRDT .
TER • GEMINA . LICUIT • CINGXAE . VEONDB . COMAS •

OB. £T. 59 . A.D. 1433 .
VIII. IDUS . JUNII.

Here, also, the traveller will see a manuscript copy of
Guarini's " Pastor Fido," written in a very neat hand by
himself; a manuscript copy of Ariosto's comedy, and some of
his letters ; a like copy of Tasso's ** Jerusalem,'* with oorree-
tions in his own hand -writing ; and various poetry, by the
same author. The Studio, likewise, possesses several rare
books : one of St. Augustin's, printed at Venice in 1473 ; the
Psalms of David, written on parchment, enriched with paint-
ings, done in gold, by one Gusme, in 1400 — they are in high
preservation, but this peculiar art is now lost ; a copy of the
BiUe, richly illuminated by an unknown hand, and still more
ancient than the Psalms. They shew Ariosto's standish, the
humble medium into which so many immortal thoughts dipped
in passing from his brain to paper ; also a medallion of the
poet, which was found in his tomb when removed from the
church of the Benedictines. On one side you observe his
name and profile ; on the obverse, you see a band holding a
forceps in the act of extracting the sting from a serpent's
mouUi, with an inscription, in allusion to his satires — *' pro
bono manum."

Five miles and a half from Ferrara, the traveller crosses
the Po, at a ferry, on a pont-volant, in the route to Padua.

THE PO — THE ADIOE — ARQUA. 810

The boat is fastened to a long hawser, anchored some way up
in the middle of the stream ; and it is the strength of the
current alone, when the boat is kept broadside on to it by
means of the helm, that carries the passengers across from
either side. The river at this spot is as broad as the Thames
at London, cleaving the valley with its rapid and flood-'like
stream, and gliding through its deep bed amidst meadows of
richest herbage, and fields waving with yellow grain. The
Adioe, the ancient Atbesis, is crossed in a similar manner
three miles from Rovigo, when the traveller enters the Aus-
trian territories, in the north of Italy.

No sooner is the traveller across the Adige, than he is led
to the idea that he has left the Italians behind, if not Italy,
and got among the descendants of the Cimbri that escaped
after their defeat by Marius, and who, according to Strabo,
settled on the banks of the Athesis ; the features of the people
are so very different ; the women going with their heads un*
covered, with light hair, and wanting the oomeliness of their
cU'Adegian neighbours. Hitherto, the stones strewed, on the
soil consisted chiefly of limestone gravel ; but as you approach
MoNTB SiLics,one of the outskirtings of the Euganean range,
the soil is composed of the comminutions of the semi-volcanic
rocks of which these mountains are constituted. That of
which Monte Silice is formed is a trachyte porphyry, com*
posed of silez, felsj^r, and mica, intermingled in so peculiar
a manner as to stamp a character for itself.

If the pilgrim of genius wishes to visit Arqva, he must
turn off to the left over a bridge which crosses the canal at
Arriveglio, half a mile before coming to Battaglia.* On
the way, the traveller will see the laurel-rose growing wild
in the hedge-rows, as if Nature herself would deck the path
which led to the Tomb of Petrarch. A walk of three miles
brings you to the last retreat of this admired poet; and the
first object that presents itself on entering the village is his

* Near Battaglia, you pais the Palazzo Obizzo, now the property of the
house of Modena. It it adorned by frescos, representing the distinguished
parts in the history of the original family, by Paul Veronese ; besides an
armoury, museum, and paintings.

320 Petrarch's tomb and house.

tomb. Mr. Eustace is mistaken in saying that it is placed in
tlio churclivard : it stands a little in front of the church, and
close bv the road leadiiiij to Petrarch's house. The Tomb is
in the form of a sarcophagus, sustained by four short pillars
on tN^o plinths : the whole is of a coarse red marble, and so
substantial, that, if left untouched, it will stand for an infinity
of aut'S. The massive cover of the tomb has a bronze bust of
ilie |xxt on the side facing the road, and lower down you read
his epitaph : —

I T.iv :?A . I r. vNci^ci . I \ris . iiic . tegit . ossa . petrarce .

>; -CIj E . \ MUO . 1' VUIN> . AMMAM . STATE . VIRGINE . PARCE .
; y<>\':. J VM . TFRRI^ . C F.I I . UEQIIESCAT . IN . ARCE .

MlCCLXXIIIJ . XVIIIJ . JVLIJ.

1 roin the cliurch vou ascend to the House wherein
Pttniivh i^assed the latter period of his life. The lower part
ot' tlie tvlitioe is of the Tuscan order, and is now used as a cow-
house ; over which there are several rooms, all kept in tolerable
o!\ur. In one. you see portrayed in fresco painting, under
ti.e cornice of the room, the events the most memorable to
h.iniself in his connexion with Laura : in one he is represented
uisooveriniT her bathinir, and she laving: the water in his face;
in anoilu r. Petrarch is in a bower, and Laura comes to him
niaskovl : in a third, is depicted Laura's death, and Petrarch's
^rief; in another, he has taken the religious habit. They
\Neiv done in Petrarchs life-time, and are extremely good for
the ace. This room also contains a portrait of Petrarch.
0\er a chinniey- piece in another apartment observe an
ancient }>ainring of a \'tMs, coeval, it is said, w^ith the house,
Ih arin^r a stivn^r resemblance to one of Titian's in the Florence
Fribune. Could this have served him ^s n premiere petisee ?
\\\ the same i\>om, the visitor will find the embalmed Cat
upon which the jK>et, in a playful mood, wrote the following
epiiaj»h, which those that run may still read :

Y.tru^cu^ ^tmino vatts txarcit omorc ;
MiLvi'iitis i^uis t'i:i\ Laura stcundus erat.
Quid ruicsf diriuii ilium si frufiu foDUtc
Mt dii:nam ixitnio ftctt umantf //</<>,

INSCRIPTIONS-^THERM^ OF MONTEOROTTA. 321

Si numerot gemumque taeris dedit ilia UbeUit^
Cinaa ego^ ne titvit murilna etcaforent
Arcebam taero vivens a Umine mures ;
Ne domini exitio icripta diserta darent,
Incutio trepidis eadetn defuncta pavoreniy
Et viget exanimi in corpore priica fides.

They shew his grotto in the garden, and the well of which
he drank ; and his bed-room still retains the chair in which
he died. The walls of this room, like that of Shakspeare at
Stratford-upon-Avon, are crowded with the names of the
pilg^ms who have visited this shrine of genius, from among
which the reader, perhaps, will pardon the extract of Alfieri s
eZ'Voto: it is written in pencil on the wall, and a sort of
frame is placed before it, to preserve it from being effaced: —

Preziasa diaspro, agaia ed oro

Foran dehito pregio, e appene degiio

Di rwestire si nobile tesoro.

Ma noy tombafregio (f uom eh* ebbe segno

Vualsi ; e poi gemme, oro disdico alloro :

Old basta il nome di quel divo ingegno,

Victorio Alfieri manuproprio.

Petrarch's house commands a beautiful view of the sur-
rounding country, with the situation of which the traveller is
forcibly struck by its kindred resemblance to the scenery
about Vaucluse. Mountains with summits tufted with un-
derwood, or made bald by the sweepings of the passing
storm — valleys teeming with exuberant fertility, and variously
checkered by the busy hand of industry — hOl-sides fringed
with the vine,* and meadows bespangled with flowers, scent-
ing the air with their fragrance. From this delightful spot
I wended my way back by the road I had come, and followed
the canal towards Mbzzavia. Here the curious traveller has
another opportunity of gratification, by visiting the Hot Bathb
OP MoNTBOROTTA : they lie but a short mile out of his way.
The baths of Montegrotta are supplied from two hot springs
of the extraordinary high temperature of 66® of Reaumur,

* The wine made here takes its name from the poet, vino di Petrarca,

Y

♦322 BAGNI DI FANGO, THEIR EFFICACY.

uliicli Is equal to 178" of Fahrenlioit; so that the water takes
three (lays in cooling clown to the usual temperature of a hot
hath. Tliat these haths, as well as those of Aba no, in this
neip:hbourhoocl, have been the resort of the sick in former
jvj:es, is proved by the ruined foundations of ancient buildinsrs
having been dug up, and coins and other antiquities being
found on the spot.

I'oth tJie nuid and water of these springs are used medi-
eiiially, and are found of i>:reat efficacy in many chronic
dihoases, particularly cutaneous complaints, paralysis, and
rJKnnnatisin ; indeed, the ancient name of Abano (Aj)onon) is
(U»rived from the power of its waters to relieve pain. The
mild, like the water, is too hot to be used without ])ein2: first
eodlcd down by kneading, it is then applied, either partially
or ^enei'ally, to the person of tlie patient, where it retains its
heat for nearly an hum', after which the patient passes into
the bath, and tliere cleanses himself of the mud. Both the
waters and muil of these s[)rings are said to contain sul-
phureous and saline matters; tlie former producing the usual
(^Hects of a medieated Ixath, the latter those of a powerful
stimulatinii' i)oiiltice. The nuid, even wlicn applied partially,
indepenih^nt of its local stinnilus, induces a general perspira-
tion, and e>])eeially eo|)iuus fi-om tlie part diseased. Hence
it is not ditlicult to believe in the benefit to be derived from
their use in all cases of morbid congestions and chronic deter-
niinations, through tlie powerful inHuence which universal
euticular relaxation effects in restoiing to a healthy equilibrium
parls in which the just balances of action is deranged. Nothing
is more uncertain, every experienced physician must allow, than
that of producing diaphoresis by medicines taken internally ;
and yet there is no effect often more devoutly to be wished
than that of inducing and establishing an equal action in the
extreme vessels, with the object of relieving particular deter-
mination ; for what, indeed, constitutes the essence of every
disease but the general equilibrium of healthy action some-
where deranged?* The lines of Claudian, when speaking
of these spriugs, still hold true :

* The nuid l)aths of Neris, in Auvcrgnc, arc of a similar (lescri|)tion.

PADUA — pra' della vallb. 323

** Amittum lymplM reparani impune vigarem,
Pacatwquef egro luxuriante^ dolor"

Fiye miles from Mezzayia brings the traveller to Padua.
The country around Padua is flat, but extremely fertile, —
Yerifying the saying *' Bologna la grassa^ Venetia la guasta^
ma Padua la postal In itself, it is poor and depopulated.
Under the iron scourge of Austria, its industry is the depressed
energy of a slave willing to die rather than work for a tyran-
nical taskmaster.

PADUA.

Padua is situated on the Brenta, in the midst of a fine
and extensive plain, on the north -•west of the Euganean
Mountains. It is said to have been built by Antenor ; and
the ciceroni pretend to shew the Sarcophagus of this ancient
Trojan in the Via San Lorenzo ; but without exactly meaning
to pun {salvo pudarel), it may safely be averred that the
building is a story without a foundation, and the tomb
another ghost-tale — a ** baseless fabric of a vision." The
existence, indeed, of the latter has been ascribed, with greater
probability, to a date much more modem, and is, to all appear-
ance, a tomb of the barbarous ages.

This city suffered severely, at different times, from the
ravages of the barbarians who invaded Italy. It was destroyed
by Attila, and afterwards rebuilt by Narses ; it was again
burnt and razed to the ground by Barbarosea, and again it
rose from its ashes. The principal lions of this place are the
Pra' dblla Valle ; the Church of St. Anthokt, called,
by way of eminence, H Santo ; that of Sta. Giustina ; the
Grahd Hall, or Palace of Justice ; and the University.
The Prato is close to the gate as you enter from Ferrara, and
occupies the site of the ancient field of Mars. It is of a cir«
cular form, the centre of which is laid out in avenues for
public promenade, and the whole surrounded by a branch of
the Brenta, and a double row of statues divided by the stream.
The statues are those of the illustrious men who have either
been bom in Padua, or have been educated at its university.
Among others, the visitor will see those of four popes, Paul II.,

324 CHURCH OF IL SANTO — THE PAINTINGS.

Eugenius IV., Alexander VIII., and Clement XIII. ; those
of John Sobieski, Stanislaus, Gustavus Adolphns, Guicciardino,
Galileo, Andrew Mantegna, Petrarch, Tasso, Ariosto, Livy,
even of Antenor, and of many others with whose particular
merits I was unacquainted. A few vacant pedestals are
interspersed, offering, as.it were, a footstool of emulation to
the present and future alumni, whereon, by proper desert,
they may step to immortality.

The Church of II Santo is an ancient Gothic structure,
erected by Nicola Pisano, and dedicated to St. Anthony. This
saint died in 1231 ; he was canonised by Gregory IX. six
years afterwards ; and the church built in 1307, on the site of
an ancient temple consecrated to Juno. It was evening when
I entered it, with the desire of seeing merely its interior. A
large congregation were chanting the evening hymn, and
though first attracted by the paintings, the music stole in-
sensibly on my ear, so sweet and solemn, that I seated myself
by the choir to listen, lliough not one of the most pioos
admirers of the Roman Catholic church, it were unjust to
deny the charming influence of certain parts of their church
service, and the solemn impression often made on the feelings
by the majestic gloom of a Grothic edifice, softened by the ridi
diapason of tones that, wafting adoration to the throne of
the Creator of all mankind, captivate the heart, and wile it
instinctively upwards : then it is that a man forgets all re-
ligious distinction of sects ; for in such communion there can
be no difference of sentiment. I returned on the. morrow to
see the interior. Here the visitor will find tombs, and chapels,
and paintings, to interest his attention.

Among the paintings, the Martykdom of St. Agatha,
by Tiepolo, is managed with good taste : the sight of her
lacerated bosom is not permitted to revolt the eye, and yet
the sense of pain is expressed in her countenance with fright-
ful truth. The Decollation of the Baptist is another
good painting. The executioner is baring his arm preparatory
to the blow : it is reckoned one of Piazzetta's best produc-
tions. Of a similar high character is Pittoni's representation
of the Martyrdom of St. Bartholomew. The subject is

THE STATUARY AND SCULPTURE. 325

.boldly conceived and masterly executed. The chapel of the
Sanctuary contains many invaluable relics, the foremost
among which is the pickled tongue of St. Anthony himself,
as fresh, and, ruddy, and incorruptible, as saltpetre or a
miracle can make it ; next comes some precious blood from
the stigmata of the holy St. Francis ; item, some of the hair
and milk of the blessed Virgin ; a portion of the wood of the
vera croce ; a part of the linen stained with the blood of our
Saviour; and three thorns of his crown. The statues of
Faith, Charity, Humility, and Penitence, which adorn
this chapel, are by Parodio ; and that of St. Anthony, and
a group of angels in front, by Roncajolo.

The chapel of the patron saint himself is magnificent, both
in its architecture and sculpture : the former was executed
by Bardi, Sansovino, and Falconetto ; the latter by Minello,
Pduca, Campagna, TuUio Lombardi, and Sansovino. Under
the altar repose the ashes of St. Anthony ; and the two
massive silver candelabra you see on each side of it weigh
3134 ounces, and are of the most exquisite workmanship ; the
whole is lit by twenty lamps of silver, which burn night and
day before the altar. Among the most remarkable of the
tombs b that of Helen Piscopia, who knew seven languages.
She was a doctor in the university of Padua, and died in
1688, set. 37 ; her statue is to be seen on the grand stair of the
university. In the aisle to the left, the visitor may look at
the tomb of two medical men, for the purpose of noticing a
fanciful idea of the artist, Comini, who, by surmounting the
monument with the Figure of a Skeleton, with a trumpet
between his jaws, presents the paradoxical picture of Death
attempting to awake himself; while, with outlines of hu-
manity so '* few and far between," he promises to make but
a noiseless herald to rouse dormant immortality from her
slumbers.

I must refer to the Appendix for the remaining objects
meriting notice ; but, before quitting the subject, I may point
out a most magnificent bronze candelabrum in the choir, the
workmanship of Andrea Riccio, a Padovese, who took eleven
years in executing it. Before leaving the church pass into

326 THE SCUOLA DEL ^ANTO — ITS FRESCOS.

the convent, which opens out of it ; where, in the entranee
between the two first cloisters, observe an elegant mausoleuniy
ornamented with four fluted columns of the Composite order.
On the um two statues of Grief and Pain lean weeping.
The singular circumstance is, that neither the artist who
executed this monument, nor the person to whom it is con-
secrated, is known.

Adjoining the church of II Santo, the traveller will find
the ScuoLA DEL Santo, which is justly celebrated for tbe
excellent frescos painted on its walls, descriptive of the
miracles worked by St. Anthony. The first is a particolarly
fine fresco, so warm and rich that it closely imitates oil. It
is by Titian, and represents St. Anthony making an infant
prematurely speak, to satisfy a father of its mother's chastity.
In another part of the room, the same story affords subject
for another miracle, both to St. Anthony and Titian. The
cavalier, it seems, who suspected his wife of infidelity, killed
her. Anthony is here depicted restoring her again to life.

The second miracle of II Santo exhibits a little, I am
sorry to say, of the hocus-pocus of legerdemain. A miaer
dies, and on opening his body they find no heart. St. An-
thony cries. Presto ! and, lo ! the heart is found locked up in
the coffer where the niggard kept his pelf. This fresco is by
Giovanni Contarini.

The next, though no doubt a miracle, is nevertheless not
quite so very marvellous in its nature, albeit performed by
St. Anthony for the meritorious purpose of converting m
heretic. An ass is represented quitting his feed to kneel
before tbe host; and truly none but an ass would do so!
Gampagnola is the artist.

Next comes the apparition of the saint to the blessed
Luca Beludi, advising him of the speedy liberation of Padua
from the tyranny of Ezzelino.

The next two fiascos portray the death of St. Anthony,
and the miracle of the glass tumbler, both of the school of
Titian. The latter was likewise performed, it seems, to con-
vert an infidel. The tumbler is thrown from a height against
a stone, and yet does not break — a feat, it may be observed.

CHUaCU OF SANTA 0IU8TINA. 327

with all becoming reserration, not peculiarly St. Anthony's,
for it is done at times on something still more fragile — a
wine-glass, by certain wonder-working school-boys ; nay,
officers at a mess-table are even gifted after the same manner,
especially as the evening advances, and when bets touching
'* another bottle more" are lacking.

Some other frescos follow, which are not exactly of a
miracle-mongering character; but there are three others,
again, which I must not pass over by reference merely to the
catalogue. The painting in oil relates to an accusation under
which the saint's own father lay of having committed murder,
to clear him from which heinous imputation St. Anthony
restores the real perpetrator to life, to accuse himself, and
thus attest his father's innocence. It is not said whether the
xnan was hanged in consequence of this confession ; if so, I
do not think he was at all obliged to St. Anthony for his
resurrection. The second is a fresco, and commemorates
another restoration to life of a boy drowned, by the same
miraculous agency, and is esteemed the finest of all Campag-
nola's frescos. The last is likewise a resuscitation, wherein
the two events of the story are represented separately. In the
one, you see the body of a boy bobbing like a Norfolk dumpling
in a kettle of boiling water ; in the other, the corpse is re-
vived at the fiat of the saint, without even a blister on it, and
looking as mettlesome as if it had never been parboiled. This
fine fiiesco is of the school of Titian ; some think it by Titian
himself.

Church of Sta. Giustina. — ^This magnificent temple, the
work of Andrea Riccio, stands in an angle of the Prato, and
both its exterior and interior are of extraordinary grandeur
and beauty. Its plan is that of a Latin cross, its floor is paved
with marble, and the vault of the great nave is* adorned with
eight lofty domes, and its whole interior is a model of noble
simplicity and majestic elegance. The paintings in this
church are too numerous to notice individually ; suffice it in
this place to say, that the altars are embellished by the mas-
terly pencils of the younger Caliari, Liberi, Luca Giordano,

328 THE DUOMO — THE VNIYERSITT.

Palma il Giovane, and others. The high altar is adorned
with the celebrated Marttkdom of St* Jubtina, by Paul
Veronesey a painting which has been engraved by Agostino
Caracci. The Mission of the Apostlbs, by Bissoni, is
likewise a splendid specimen of the art; as is also Carlo
Loth's M ABTYBDOM OF St. Sagiusdo^ the character of
is grand, and the pencilling bold and impressiTe.
a pupil who does credit to his master Bernini, has adorned
a chapel in the transept to the right with some beaatifiil
specimens of sculpture. The grand altar enshrines the body
of St. Justina ; besides which, this church is said to contain
the body of the evangelist St. Luke, that of the apostle St.
Matthias, those of three of the children massacred by the
order of Herod ; and, moreover, an image of the Vii^n,
carved by St. Luke : and I may direct the visitor's attentkm
to the admirable bas-reliefs of the seats of the choir, repre-
senting the prophecies of the Old Testament touching our
Saviour, with their fulfilment in the New.

For the paintings in the Duomo of Padua, I must refer
to the Appendix ; but may menticMi, in passing, that they are
all by good masters ; and here the visitor will find a Por-
trait OF Pbtrabch (who was one of the canons of the
cathedral), and also a Madonna by Giotto, which once be-
longed to him.

Thb Univebsitt. — This university, once so famous, and
which hath sent forth so many eminent men, has now fallen
into comparative obscurity. In its zenith of reputation, when
the immortal Galileo taught here, it was the resort of eighteen
thousand students from all parts of Europe; whereas, the
present matriculation list does not exceed a ninth part of the
number. An order from a professor is necessary for viewing
the cabinets, &c. In that of Natural History die collection
of minerals is good ; but the shells, birds, and animals, are
indifferent. Among the organic remains from the mountains
about Vicenza, the visitor will see a rarity — a petrified hunaan
skull and humerus, found among stalactites in Dalmatia.
Fabricius ab Aqua was, for thirty years, professor of anatomy

THE HALL OF JUSTICE — GIOTTO'S FRESCO. 329

in this ODce-oelebrated school. In the Anatomical Theatre
the yiaitor will see a bust of the distinguished morbid anato-
misty Morgagniy by Danieletti. TBe wax preparations ex-
hibiting the different stages of pregnancy, are to be seen in
the Cabinet of Midwifery ; and in the School of Medicine,
the visitor will find a painting of Mart at thb Tomb of thb
Rbdbbmbr, by Dario Varotari. It was within the seclusion
of these walls that Petrarch composed his sonnets, and where
both Tasso and Ariosto cultivated the genius that afterwards
rendered their names inmiortal. The students of thb univer*
sity were at one time a very desperate set, rushing out in
buids after dark, one party before stopping the passenger
with, '' Chirva-Uf" whilst another behind called out *^ ChU
vorla?^ and, between the chv-va-lis and the chi-va-lasj the
peaceable passenger often lost his life. One of the principal
lamps in the chapel of St. Anthony was a fine imposed on
these gentlemen Chuvorli, for killing their man in the church-
porch.

Among the objects of curiosity at Padua, perhaps there
are none more deserving a visit than the Hall of Justice,
which is the largest room in Europe, being three hundred
feet long, one hundred in width, and as many in height*
The walls of this stupendous hall are embellished in fresco
by Giotto, and represent the Signs of the Zodiac, with
Figures op the Twelve Apostles distributed among them*
The signs are so placed, that the shadow of the sun at noon
is found in its proper allegorical position throughout the year,
and the apostles are arranged in like manner, so as to indi-
cate when .the church celebrates their festivals. Here also
you see depicted the symbols of man, indicating corresponding
actions, and for what he is most fitted — his temperament,
inclinations, degree of talent, &c., according to the doctrine
of the renowned astrologer Igino, all faithfully copied from
the astrolabic plan of Pietro d'Abano. This hall contains two
Egyptian Dbitieb, brought by Belzoni from Thebes, and
presented to his native city : also the Stonb op Opprobrium,
on which bankrupts were wont to sit in presence of the
people ; and two Busts, the one that of Livy, who was a

3o0 L'On:i o:j L'^'OIa — banks of the brlnta.

native of xh':^ place : the other, of the Liicretia of Padua,
Dmvdi ^J?'>L"';ia. Tiie latter has no other interest save tlie
trairiciil evt^nt it rv-cali^ tu ni:n<i. This lady was of 2:oo<l

faiiiilv. and was niarried, in the bl«x>m of vouth and beautv,

• • •

to a noble Padovese, the Marquis Pio dObizzi. She loved
her hu-l»a!id, and was faitht\il. A vouno: crentleinan, named
Pa^'aiiino Sala, f 11 in love with this charming woman, but
she repelled his advances with the indicrnation of virtue in-
sulted. Borne away by passion and madnofs, Sala killed tlie
object he so dnated on. in the absence of her husband. The
as-assin was seized and convicted of the murder; but, as thev
couM not cret him to confess it, he could onlv be condemnetl
to fifteen years' iriijiri"-onnieiit. In the meanwhile, the son of
the cha-te Dondi «j:rew ui» to nuanhiKxl, bein^r onlv five years
old at the time of his mother's death, and vowed to revenixe
her nnirder. Sala. in (piitiii],^ the prison, was shot bv the
younir Ubizzi, who, iiviiiL^ his countrv, entered the Austrian
Service, wliere he died in 171<>, after sustaining:, durins: fifty
years of Service, the reputation of an honouralde man and a
brave soldier.

The last memorandum I have of Padua, is of a sinirular
piece of modei'n sculpture, which is to be seen in the Palace
Papafava. It is of one |)iece of marble, and yet contains
sixty-six small statues. The subject represents the rebel-
anirels driven down from heaven bv the archaui^el Michael,
who fall in every possible attitude. It was executed by Agos-
tino I assoletto, who took about twelve vears to finish it.
But as a specimen of art, it is more curious than pleasing,
and perhaps merits a character rather of eccentricity than of
beauty.

Tiiere is a passagc-l)oat on the Brenta, which conveys
passengers to Fusind, where they embark in other boats,
which take them aci'oss to \'enice. I walked it, as was my
wont ; and as the traveller trudges along, he is struck with
the contrast between the natural richness of the country and
the general poverty of its inhabitants. All along the banks
of the Brenta every thing has the aspect of desertion ; and
villas which were formerly the rural retreats of the opulent

VENICE — ITS PAST AND PRESENT STATE. 881

Venetians, are now tenantless and going to ruin i 6r if in*
habited 9 it is by the beasts of the field and the fowls of the
tiir. This scene of desolation prepares the mind for the sad-
ness which the view of Venice impresses : she still rises like
Venus from the ocean ; but it is Venus meretrix — the worn-,
out trull of more wanton days, suffering from her former
debaucheries. Where, it may be asked, are the opulence,
freedom, magnificence, and majesty of this once^celebrated
republic gone to ? Alas ! to the tomb of all the Capulets !

Venice, as every one knows, is not one of the ancient
cities of Italy, but dates its foundation from the time when
Alaric, king of the Goths, invaded Italy with his hordes of
barbarians, carrying desolation in his steps as he went. The
affrighted inhabitants of this neighbourhood, to escape the
sword of the invader, fled, and took refuge in the little island-
marshes and lagoons, for obscurity and safety; the insigni-
ficance alone of which offering them a safe asylum, they
there built houses. Not long afterwards, Attila, king of the
Huns, having ravaged Germany, entered Italy likewise in
this quarter, and, obliging the Padovese to seek shelter a
second time, they retired to the same retreat ; and, in con-
sequence of these forced colonisations, the place now began
to assume the importance and form of a fijced settlement.

Such were the commencements of the noble and majestic
city of Venice, which for so many centuries yielded neither
in riches, magnificence, nor power, to any city in the world ;
subjecting to its dominion the islands of Candia and Cyprus,
the Peloponnesus, the greater part of Lombardy, including
the wealthy cities of Padua, Vicenza, Verona, Trevisa, Ber^
gamo, and Cremona ; whilst, on the other side of the Adriatic,
it possessed Dalmatia, Sclavonia, Istria, and the Friule. How
different is its present state, where its whole territory is con-
fined to its original lagoon-girt bed, into the waters of which
Venice is fast tumbling its walls, as if ashamed of the re-
flection of its own wretchedness ! But such is the usual fiite
of states that shoot up like hot-house plants, forced beyond
their natural strength by a power that has no fixed habitat.
This for a while may be concentrated like^caloric, but the

^

332 VENICE — PIAZZA OF ST. MARK.

:::?'. Ant^^i tcTi-iencv of it is to diffuse and lose itself in the
T:«y./:1: r :.iii :i -j'a:e. England! ** snus little isle of the
• •>:3.:./ :.-.ke a liS-on : for wealth is as erratic and radiant as
i.-.i. -:.\ a:.': ::::re riKjratorv than even the swallow — sun and
- :• r:. : - ti'r rv M.^itt- ll-r K>th; but the ecliptic of wealth is
.. s: .::_: j :ni:k. fii.d tht-re is onlv one siim in the commercial
:•:..: — :..:.: .: Pr -r-erirv, and this is not a tixed star — one
'♦ .1-: ' '* .i-.:\. ciL ; :Lis is liable to incessant variation — the
. » »*^j

VENICE.

\-. :;.t ?:.\:: I> on o:.e liiiiuin-d and thirtv-eiiiht little
^Ov.^:^.ly r:^<' :.i*.»ve ihe level of the Adriatic.
tT'. jtLil I'll piles of wood driven into the
>-.y ^r. .::..'.. l:kc :L.'^ of Amsterdam, and seem to float
:"-.t w. ;>;•->. t.>vsvri a:.d o:h- r shfU-lish lix themselves
:.-: :\ :. .•..-.::::.>. .-.s :Lcv ordinarilv do on rocks; and the

• •

w.;r'..;^ :'..t ?>.: s '; v wl.i^h vuu de-cend to the crondolas to
s :.-. :r. st^.-.: :: s:--:^:. Tais ourxus city is intersecte<l by
I a: i :*:-:v c/.v.aIs, ai.d the disjointed parts are con-
fer ': v rVur :.u:..irol and tiftv bridi^res, and vet it
> :..-: 11. -s: l:.v^v.^ i :.:.::: c.:v I ever visited. Nothinix appears
:; r/.; :v. .rt u::.iv.v:u::M. '.e ih^n the choice made by a most
v..-:.*:;:-..>lu\i vvx: o: \\:.ioe as a residence; for certainly no
\'...vv V..:: .V o;:..i:vt\i lc>^ i\xiicallv dtrvised. The entire
:.^NM» *.\-.:.iio: *:<^ verier LViKjartd than to a con^nviration of
v'r.mVvu-:: Allt \ s. I.i::Ie Mavs Buildinirs, and such-like
IvU'x -..::i:s. N> i:li i:;e .ulditional annovance of not beinir able
:.^ uvt f:\ in o::t allt v to another unkss ))v liirinLT a iroiidola,
V 1* tl><^ bv NNa'.kir.j SvMne two or three miles round to iret to a
lu^ux^ ovivsito. After this description, I need not sav there
.;:v iiv^ vurriac^s in ^ enice. Lord Bvron is said to have been
:*ic^ r.>: >>ho kept horsi^s in this city, and then his ride was
kV'^\c\1 :v^ the oianimamoience of a space little lar«j:er tlian
-b:v.ik--tlie public irardens as thev are called.
I \^ r'aoe to which a stranger first directs his stoj)5 on his
\.»'. i: \ ei..ee. i> the Piazza of J^t. Makk, for this is its

. , - . -V

k I
.«

THE PIAZBTTA — CHURCH OP ST. MARK. 833

soul and honour. Here he finds himself as if released from
prison, and his movements unshackled from the impedi-
ments of canals, and unravelled of *^ labyrinths that lead
to nothing." The place itself is grand, spacious, lofty,
and commodious. It is in the form of a paralldogram,
surrounded on three sides by majestic edifices, and hj the
venerable church of St. Mark at the lower end ; presenting
the appearance of a vast saloon, having for its ceiling the
vault of heaven. A space opens towards the sea, called the
PiAZZETTA, with the ancient palace of the Doge on the left,
and the Procuratorie Nuove opposite. Two lofty columns of
ophite adorn the Piazzetta, which were brought firom Con-
stantinople. There was a third, but in the placing of it it
fell into the sea. The two we see were erected by one Baru-
tiero, on condition of being permitted to keep a faro bank
during the carnival as the recompense. On one a winged
lion stands, the ensign of St. Mark ; on the other, a statue of
St. Theodore, the original patron of Venice, before being
superseded by the evangelist. It is between these two co-
lumns that criminals are executed, and it was on this spot
that the Doge Marino Faliero was beheaded, as a traitor to
his country, in 1364.

Chubcb of St. Mabk. — This venerable edifice was
erected by the Doge Okseoli in 976, and combines in its style
of architecture the Arabesque and Gothic. Five domes
crown its roof: five hundred columns of different orders
surround the exterior of St. Mark's, which were brought
chiefly from Athens and other parts of Greece. Above the
middle porch you see eight porphyry columns of inestimable
price, and over these stand the four cblbbbated hobsbs,
cast in bronze by Lysippus, which Nero brought from Greece.
They were harnessed to a chariot of the sim, and stood on a
triumphal arch, erected by the senate of Rome to this emperor
after the victory gained by him over the Parthians. Con->
stantine afterwards transported them to Constantinople, and
placed them in the Hippodrome. The Venetians brought
them away, among other rich spoils, about the beginning of

334 CHURCH OF ST. MARK — FREDERICK BARBAROSSA-

the sixteenth century, when their victorious fleet took the
capital of the Ottoman empire, under Doge Dandolo, in 1205.
They again became the spoil of conquest under Buonaparte,
who removed them to Paris to adorn the triumphal arch in
the Place Carrousel ; and, after so many peregrinations, they
travelled back to their pedestals over the portal of St. Mark's,
at tlie general restitution on the restoration of the Bourbons.

The appearance of the interior of this church is still more
Asiatic than its exterior, and conveys the impression of a
sanctuary devoted to the eternal celebration of acts of penance;
the iioor when I entered it was paved with prostrate groups
of men and women.

Hie grand altar is supported by four large pillars of
transparent alabaster, which are said to have been brought
from Solomon's Temple ; and thirty-six others sustain the
ceiling. The visitor is struck with tlie great quantity of
mosaic work in porphyry and jasper in this church, with
which it is both paved and vaulted. In front of the choir
they shew a large slab of white marble so marked as to
resemble the waves of the sea, and also the Porphyry Stone
which points out the spot where Pope Alexander III. put his
foot ui)on the neck of Frederick Barbarossa, as a public act
of liuniiliatlon on the penitent return of this emperor under
the haughty autliority and subjection of that church which
liad excommunicated him. As this proud priest trampled
Barbarossa under his feet, he heightened the vile insult by
rej)oating the words of the Psalmist, ^* Super cuipidem et basi-
/icuni (tmhnlahl'iy it conculcuhis It out in ti draconem ;^' to which
tlie emperor answered, ** ^on tihL std Petro :'' on which
Alexander, treading on his neck more forcibly, replied,
** Et mihi ct Pciro/^ In days when priestcraft had attained
its utmost insolence and }>ower, Barbarossa, I daresay,
thought himself fortunate in not shariuir the fate of the five
kings who warred agiiinst Culnon, after the enacting of a
similar scene of degradation \^cidt Joshua, x. 24).

The riche:> and relics containeil in the treasury and
chapels of this chun»h weiv inestimable. The cap worn by
the Doaes was vahunl at 2tK)AKK^ civwiis. Here also were

TOWER OF ST. MARK — TORRE DELL' OROtOGIA. 885

goblets of i^te and emerald which formerly belonged to
Constantine the Great; Aaron's two rode; bat, alx»re all^
the moaldering body of St. Mark. This still reposes under
the grand altar, and was brought by some Venetian merchants
from Alexandria in 829. The treasury, likewise, contained
a. manosoript oopy of the gospel of St. Mark, written, it is
said, by his own hand, and another of the same^ written in
latters of gold by St. Chrysostom.

In the Chapel of the Madonna deUa Scarpa, they shew
the part of the identical rock which Moses struck in the
wilderness to assuage the thirst of the Israelites. It is a
greyish-cdoured marble, and nothing can be prettier than
the four little holes through which the water was nuuie to
flow : they are about the size of a goose-quill, and it adds
to the miracle, of course, to perceive that such a prodigious
quantity of water could escape in so short a time through
such small apertures as to quench the sandy thirst of 600,000
men, together with their wives and children, and all their
flocks and herds.

In front of St. Mark you see the flag-staffs which formerly
bore the three banners in token of the domination held over
the kingdoms of Cyprus, Negropont, and Candia, fay this
warlike republic* Close to these stands the Tower of
St. Mabk : it is 230 feet in height, surmounted by a gilt
figure of an angel as a weathercock, which, as it turns
round by the wind, appears to bestow its benediction on
the passengers below. From its top you see this singularly
built dty at your feet ; its numerous palaces seem doubled
by their own reflection in the crystal waters which encom*-
pass them* In the distance the eye loses itself eastward
in the lar^ mirror of the Adriatic, dotted with isles in richest
eullivation. On the north rises the Friule, and to the south
you see the plaia of Padua, bounded by the belt of the
Ettganean mountains.

To the right of the church stands the Tobrb dbll' Obo-
LOGiA. The clock is placed over a kind of triumphal aroh
through which you enter the Piazaca, and is curious for its
mechanism, which not only indicates the hour of the day^ but

336 PALACE OF THE DOGE — ITS HALLS.

also the relative position of the moon and the earth, and of
the sun as it enters the si^s of the zodiac. Above the clock
vou see a ijilt inia«re of the Virgin, of the natural size. On
the day of the Assumption, on each stroke of the clock, two
anjxels appear with trumpets in their hands ; these are fol-
lowed })v the wise men of the East, who kneel before the
iniaixe. On ordinarv occasions, two Moors alone strike the
liour on a boll with iron hammers, after the manner of our
own that formerly were at St. Dunstan's.

The Palace of the Doge. — In front of this palace you
see two colossal statues of Mars and IVeptune, by San-
sovino, between which you mount the Scala dei Giganti,
leaiiiiiir to the interior.

In the Sal A delle Qtattro Porte the visitor will find,
amonii otiier tine paintings, Titian's Triumph of the Faith,
which was once in the Louvre. The frescos on the ceilins:
nre by Tintoretto, and the architecture of the hall by Palladio.
The Hai l or the Senate contains Tintoretto's representation
of Vemi e freed from the Plague, painted to comme-
moraie the i^.r-IO/c) of t/ie Church of La Salute. Over the
thrv^.^.e there is a tine Descent from the Cross, bv the same
iXivat m:\?ier. The ceiling: is also by the same hand, repre-
senriiic in alleirorv Venice and her Spouse the Adriatic.

Thk Grand Council-Chamber, which is 74 feet wide
:\r.d l^>0 loniT, is adorned with paintings representing the
trii;n^.ph> of the republic over Frederick Barbarossa, the
h.<tory of the taking of Constantinople by the Venetians, and
rir.toivtios Paradise, and the Apotheosis of Venice, by
Paul \*ei\>neso. Venice, surrounded by her attributes, is
n^piYStMitinl Iving crowned by fame : this painting is justly
e>ieenuHl one of the artist's finest productions. Portraits of
the dv^gos Oivupy the upper part of the room ; that of Marino
Iril'.OTV is not covered with crai)e, as is described by some
tnuellei-^, but entirely eftaced from the panel by a coating
of b'.aek paint, on which you read : " Ilic est locus Marini
y.iiir'w iltCtipifafi pro criminibusJ'

\\\ the Sala del Scrutinio you see a Last Judgment,

THE ARfiBNAL — CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE. S3t7

by the untied pencils of Palma VecchiOy Belotti, and the
Chevalier Liberi. It is in this paintiag that II Vecchio twice
introduces his mistress. The first time he placed this beau-
tifbl portrait in Paradise ; but quarrelling with her before the
painting was finished, the vindictiye artist the second time
put her among the damned. Here also are six allegorical
subjects by Lazarini; a battle between the Venetians and
Turks, by Tintoretto; a fine Bassano on the ceiling; and a
continuation of the doges down to Ludovico Mannin, the last
doge of Venice. ^

The Arsenal of the palace of St. Mark is described as
possessing (for I did not visit it) a large quantity of curious
ancient armour, among which the sword of the valiant Scan-
derbeg is carefully preserved. Here also is a bust of 'the
tyrant Francesco Carrara, the last signore of Padua, so noto-
rious for his cruelties. They shew a citsket within which
there are six small cannons connected with springs, so adjusted
that in opening the box these cannons go off. It was in this
way the monster killed the beautiful Countess Sacrati, to
whom be had sent the casket as a present. They likewise
shew small pocket bows and arrows of steel, with which
Carrara amused himself in killing those he met, without their
being able to perceive whence the wound came. There also
are, or were, kept here, the two beautiful small statues of
Abam and Evb, made by Albert Durer in prison with a pen-
knife, which obtained him his liberty.

It were unnecessarily tedious to give a detailed account of
the churches of Venice. I shall, therefore, only notice some
of the principal, confining my observations to what is most
xemarkable, and referring to the Appendix for particulars.

That of Sam Giorgio is a splendid specimen of Palladio's
skill, and it is a disputed question among connoisseurs, whether
this church or that of Sta. Maria della Salute is the finest
It contains several good paintings. The story of St. George and
the Dragon is well depicted ; and in a chapel immediately to
tlie right of the grand altar you see a Marriage in Can a,
by Paul Veronese. On one of the columns which support
ihe pediment of this chapel, those whose eyes are clarified by

338 CHURCHES OF LA SALUTE AND GLI SCALZI.

the proper infiision of faith can perceive a natural represen-
tation in the marble of the Crucifixion. A grand simplidtj
reigns throughout the church. Above the grand altar yoa
flee an image of II Padre JEtemo over a gilt globe sustained
by the four evangelistB, and behind the head of the Almighty,
a triangle, symbolical of unity in trinity. Two angels, in
bronze, stand on this altar, together with a handsome cande-
labrum, with infant-angels as caryatides, of exquisite work-
manship. The marble pavement of the choir and tribune is
splendid. The church of St. George preserves the body of
the first martyr, St. Stephen ; -and on the seats around the
choir you see the life of St. Benedict carved in beaatiiid
relief. They were executed by Albert Breughel, and are
admirable for their perspective effect.

The Church of La Salute was erected as an oK-voto
to the Vii^in, on the cessation of a plague. This subject is
finely represented in marble over the grand altar. To the
right of a statue of the Virgin holding an in£Emt Christ in her
arms, you see Venice supplicating her interference to deliver
the city from the pestilence that desolates it ; while, on the
opposite side, the plague is represented flying before an angd
with a torch in his hand. Another noUe edifice is the
Chubch of thb Jesuits. The inside walls are of verd
antique, let into a groundwork of white marble, giving the
semblance of a rich paper-pattern. Ten twisted columns of
the same beautiful material stand on the grand altar, en-
closing a tabernacle all of lapis lazuli ; and in firont of it
an extremely beautiftil and curious carpet extends, composed
of verde and giallo antico. This church is enriched with
Titian's magnificent painting of the Marttbdom of St«
Laurence, and others by Tintoretto and Palma II Giovane,
as well as by several beautiful tombs ; among others, you find
that of the Doge Pascal Ciconia, who built Uie Rialto.

Thb Church of the Scalzi. — This church, as its name
partly denotes, belongs to the barefooted Carmelites, and is
particularly rich, both externally and internally, in excellent
sculpture : the architecture is a noble specimen of Palladia's

ST. ZECHARIAH — ST. JOB — S. M. OLORIOSA- 339

akill, i^nd reflects its beauties on the grand canal, by the side
of which it stands. There are only two paintings to be seen
here, in the chapel of Sta. Teresa ; they are by Tiepolo, and
both are good. This chapel is also enriched with a statue in
marble of the death of the saint to whom it is dedicated, but,
though good, it does not equal Bernini's at Rome. Six
beautiful spiral columns ornament the grand altar ; as many
Statues of Sibyls surround the tribune ; and the visitor wiU
find a fine Cbucifixion in the first chapel to the left on
entering.

Venice has dedicated churches to several uncanonized
saints — as Moses, Job, Jeremiah, Zechariah, &c. Over the
porch of the last you see a fine statue of this prophet by
Victoria, whose tomb within is designated by the following
inscription: —

ALEXANDER VICTORIA,

Qui viven$ vivoi duxit ^ marmore vuUu$,

The sacristy of the Church of St. Job contains a body
of St. Luke, and the Benedictines of Sta. GHustina at Padua
have another. One of the most precious relics in the church
of St. Jeremiah is a vial full of his tears ; but this is not so
richly endowed, for it cannot boast of possessing any of
St. Job's gall. Behind the choir of the church of St. Zecha-
riah you see a painting representing Peter Repentant —
the cock crows, and remorse and self-reproach (the bitterest
of all) shew in every abashed feature the liar convicted.

A sarcophagus on the outer wall of the Church of San
GriovANNi B San Paolo was pointed out to Lord Byron, by
a priest, as that which contained the ashes of the Doge
Marino Faliero. There are vestiges of an inscription upon
it, but now illegible.

The Church of Sta. Maria Gloriosa contains the
ashes of Titian, and a monument to Canova ; that of St. Se-
bastian, the tomb of Paul Veronese: under his bust you
read:

PAULO . CALARIO . VERON. PICTORT .
NATUR£ . iEMULO . ARTIS . MIRACULO.
SUPCRSTITR . FATI8 . FAMA . VICTVRO.

340 ACCADEMIA DELLE BELLE ARTI.

It was in the convent attached to this church that Paol
passed the last two years of his life, to avoid the vengeaiiee
of a noble Venetian whose portrait he had painted. Com-
plaining of the imperfection of the likeness, the nobleman
returned it, with a request too peevishly expressed, that he
would improve the resemblance — to do so, Paul planted two
horns on his forehead. But the satirical artist paid dearly
for indulging his wit ; since, to shun the assassination which
the nobleman threatened, Paul Veronese died in a convent.

The Accademia dellb Belle Arti contains a nomber
of paintings by the first masters of the Venetian school, and
a still greater number is to be seen in the Palace Manfrini.
Among those in the former, the visitor will see Titian's cele-
brated Presentation of the Virgin at the Temple,
displaying all the gorgeous costume and pageantry which
distinguish this high-toned school. The subject is treated in
a fine perspective style of conception, and the eye follows
the procession up the grand flight of steps to where the high-
priest stands to receive the modest, trembling, youthful Mary.
A St. John the Baptist, by the same great master, is not
less beautiful. Raphael's fine painting of the same subject
in the tribune of the Florence gallery, is diflPerently conceived;
the sublime wildness about which portrays ** one crying in
the wilderness;" whilst this represents the forerunner and
herald of a redeemed world impressed with the grandeur and
dignity of his mission.

Tintoretto's Eve offering the Apple to Adam is another
charming painting : frail humanity when tempted by one so
fair might well be apt to forget its duty. But, superior
even to this is a painting which the visitor will find in the
second room, representing a miracle worked through the
intervention of St. Mark, where the instruments of torture
prepared for the martyrdom of a slave are broken in pieces.
Of a still higher character is Titian's Assumption of the
Virgin : this truly is the manner how to mount to heaven.
Paul Veronese has but one painting in this rich collection
(a Holt Family) ; but it is a sjplendid example of his magic

PALACE MANFRINI — THE PAINTINGS. S41

pencil. In the room which contains the alto -reliefs and
busts in bronze by Aspetti, Gilberti, and others, you see the
porphyry vase which encloses Canova's heart. This artist's
HsBE» by the way, which used to be in the Abrizzi's palace,
is on a visit to her uncles — I believe the owner's banker
daims, for the present, that relationship !

Nothing will gratify the admirer of paintings more than a
visit to the magnificent collection of the Palace Manfrimi.
I shall point a few out to notice, but without attempting
any elaborate description. Here it is that you find the three
celebrated portraits by Giorgione, forming one of the most
superb paintings of this very rare and much-esteemed master.
Giulio Romano's Departure of Adonis for the Chase
delineates again that beautiful idea which the very canvass
assists in perfecting — the unwillingness of lovers to part.
Adonis bids Venus adieu, and still seems to repeat the word
without being able to go. He lingers on the canvass, fixed by
the magic influence of her he so doats on, and his own re-
luctance. The THREE Ages of Man, by Titian, is delightfully
characteristic — innocence in childhood, love's absorbing
passion in youth, and meditation in old age. There is drama
in this picture, and never more beautifully portrayed than in
the second scene of life's stage, " Love's young dream." The
Trial of Skill between Apollo and Pan, by Guido, is
another attractive painting. It may literally be said that it is
full of music, for there is harmony in every touch of the pencil.

The ceiling of this apartment is adorned with a superb
painting in oil representing the Apotheosis of Hebe, by
Paul Veronese. The beautiful Hebe is conducted into the
presence by Mercury, while Venus advances to introduce her
to the Thunderer, surrounded by the assembled godhead.
In another room you see a St. Cecilia and a Magdalen,
by the soft and glowing pencil of Dolce. Here also are
Nicholas Poussin s Hours Dancing, while Time plays the
harp, so well known by its engravings ; and his Time dis-
covering Truth — Phoebus is peering over a hill; the poor
girl looks astonished, and well she may, she so seldom sees
the light. Carlo Maratta's Flora blows with the sweetness

342 CLIMATE OP VENICE — TIDE OP THE ADRIATIC.

and freshness of her name : and here also the visitor will find an
original Cartoon^ by Raphael, apparently a pendant of thoee
at Hampton Court — the subject, that of Noah and the Ark.

You now enter a small room, in which you find the
history of painting exemplified, from its reviyal under Cima-
hue, Giotto, Andrew Mantegna, Padovano, Verrochio, up to
old dame Plautilla, &c. Watching, as you haye done in this
cabinet, the second dawning of the art, you thence enter an
apartment where the sun of painting emerges from under the
horizon, and your taste gets sapid at the touch of Frank
Floris's Venus and Adonis, and pampered to luxuriancy by
the fine representation of the death of the latter by Paul
Veronese. Rottenhammer's Actjson shews how channingly
bare-legged nymphs can scamper; and Time taking Lovb
away, by the younger Palma, might make more than one
lady fair follow in despair.

The last room contains Titian's chef-d'ceuvre — his cele-
brated Deposition from the Cross — no painting can well
unite greater excellencies, possess more yaried expression, or
combine colouring in richer or more harmonious hues.

The last I shall allude to is Ludoyico Caracci's Bacchus
AND Ariadne. This is a yery charming picture : the loyer
beseeches with so much persuasiye grace, while the loydy
Ariadne, with half-ayerted head, listens to his yows and entrea-
ties with the delight of one willing to belieye them true.

Venice is a healthy city, notwithstanding its marehy situ-
ation — a circumstance ascribable, in my opinion, to the
following causes. First, it is freely exposed on all sides, firMii
its insular position, to the breezes that blow from the sea ;
secondly, to sea, and not fresh water, being the source of the
humidity ; and, lastly, to the flux and reflux of the tide ; for
it is a curious fact, that though there is no tide in the Medi-
terranean, there is a tide in the Adriatic. Both Lncan*
and Claudian f notice this circumstance.

* *' Quikque jacet littus dubium, quod terra fretumque

Vindicat alternis vicibus .'*

t " Nunc redeuute vehit, nudataque littore fluclu

Deserit.''

EDIFICES — WATER — GONDOLAS — BEGGARS. 343

No city in Italy can boast of finer edifices, of which the
grand canal is studded with admirable examples, by San-
sovino, Longhena, and Palladio ; but they are most of them
uninhabited ; and Venice is rapidly advancing toward pos-
sessing, through the selfish, envious, and illiberal policy of
Austria, the picturesque interest of a city in ruins, and to
the fulfilment of the poet's prophecy,

*' Nee tu temper eris

qtut mediis dtntula ntrgu aquuJ*

Indeed, the aspect of moral and physical dilapidation is so
universal, that the traveller, after having seen all that is
curious and beautiful in Venice, is glad to run away from it.
Among the other inconveniences of this city, the total want
of fresh water is not the least. The inhabitants are obliged
to have it all brought from the main-land, and there are
numerous shops in this city where they sell nothing else,
even by the glassful, to the thirsty passenger. What Martial
says of Ravenna is now more applicable to Venice :

** Sit ciitema mihi quam vinea malo Raveraut,
Cilm po$sim muUo vendere plurit aquam."

Nine thousand gondolas get employment on the different
canals, in transporting people from one part of the city to the
other ; and being painted black without, and lined within of
the same funereal colour, they suggest to the mind the idea
of a city in mourning. Torrents of beggars in every street
add to the wretched aspect of thb once flourishing xity.
When the Emperor Francis II. took possession of Venice in
1814, he gave a donation of a florin to each public mendi-
cant — an alms-giving not quite so trifling in amount, when
it is considered that, out of a population of 140,000 souls,
there were 48,000 beggars!

I now re*embarked — got to Fusina — and returned to
Padua by the passage-boat.

The country between this last town and Vicenza is ex-
tremely fertile, and was formerly called the garden of Venice,
while the soil shews unequivocal marks of having once been

..- 1. T "".

* . ... *j'r.i. R": ::: i-r-i i::'l:.t-^ of trachyte poq>livrv, iiiter-

-'- :' L'. 1::::: ?:::.-. art- «i:?:ri:'u:e.l o:i all side;:,
.V. ^Ltu :..e 5^a -X'c:.:; ieti the ]»la:n that in-
•-.--. r-.r-j ''r.: -.v. >rn th-r f • . t «.'f iL- Rht'v'aa Alj-s and the hitrh
jr. .L : ':vv.!.l iL-r R. '.:..•. «:n the EuL-'j^iiese side of the
A' -ri.i.h.*.^ : r :: :i. -rt- -- : :.-.s y rtrviitlv. 'lliree miles iH/l'ore
L.rr.vi:.« r-.: \ i.'rT.z.i vo i c:\?5 a bridjtr, t-rtoied bv Palladio,
'. ^ ^r :.. J i ..c. :..j:.e.

VICENZA.

\ :c» i.Z'i is jit'.i^itrd ill a }l:;::i surrouiult-d hy charininir
i.i!'i- f*»\r;f i with viilas : it wiis the hirih-jilace of the famous
arohirt-t'i P.-.Ihi .:•> : and he has eiiiiH^lli?hed hi^ native citv
wiiii -t^vt-nd n.u^tcily ?peeiniens of hi? i:e::ius : as the Olympic
Tiitatre, tlie Triiunplial Arch in the Cainpo Marzo, and the
Palazzo deila Rairione, ^o hcautifully attt?t.

\'icciiza wa- fuuuded hv the Euiraneans 3'24 vears before
the (. hri^tian era, and in ancient times was honoured with
the protection lx)th of Brutus and Cicero. It Hourislied
>\ljil?t the Roman empire did; but in its decline Vieenza
l-'ccame exposed to great calamities under the ravages of
those hordes of barbarians, the Ostroiroths and Lonirobardi,
who entered Italy from this quarter. Tlie Enii)eror Otho
bestowed great privileu^es on this city, which it afterwards
forfeited bv its own intestine dissensions ; and Frederick
Baibaro?sa completed its abasement by reducing it to slaver}'.
But ])ecoming leagued with Padua, Verona, and Milan, it
threw ofl' its voke ; and, after surrenderinix to several different
masters, it finally siiccuudjed to Venice in 1304. Its fate
ever since has followed that of Venice, and now forms an
integral part of the Lombardo- Venetian states under the dis-
ciplinarian rod of Austria. Vieenza contains 3(),0()0 inhabit-
ants, is four miles in circuit, and in its form it has been com-
pared to a scorpion. The neigiibouring mountains contain
numerous organic marine petrifactions : in the limestone
rock close to the church of Del Monte, I found mactrae and
the turrilites costatus embedded in the crag limestone, and

A DETOUR INTO THE TTROLB8E ALPS. 346

specimens of that extinct remain called lenticulitesi or num-
malites.

The only charch worth visiting is the one alluded to, that
of Sta. Mabia del Montb, which stands a short half mile
oat of the Porta Lupia. The yiew from this spot is fine, with
the Tyrol mountains on the north, and the fertile plain of
Lombardy stretching to the west. The refectory of this charch
contains Paul Veronese's painting of St. Greoobt entbb-
TAiNiMO THB Beggabs at suppcr, at which the artist has
introduced our Saviour in the disguise of a pilgrim, according
to the legend. The floor of the church is paved with ex-
votos — one of a man who was hanged and came to life again.

Three or four rivers meet at Vicenza ; and on quitting it,
they take the name of the Brenta.

A story is told of Vicenza, which has given rise to a
proverb. When Charles V. was here, many gentlemen and
several rich bui^esses were troublesomely urgent for being
created counts ; at length, pestering him one day beyond all
patience, the emperor called out aloud, '* Yes, yes, I create
you all counts — town and suburbs and all!*' Hence came
the saying, *' as common as counts of Vicenza."

Having read somewhere a vague reference to certain
basaltic developements about Bolca, I determined to go in
search of them. Five miles from Vicenza I turned off to the
right near Tavemella ; and shortly after beginning to approach
the foot of the Tyrolese Alps, the traveller leaves the trachyte
which he found strewed on the plain, and gets among the
limestone formation of the adjoining mountains. About a
mile and a half from the little town of Arzignano, and mid-
way to Chiampo, the traveller may observe a mountain
standing two short miles from the road-side, and, from the
summit to its base, a multitude of broken basaltic columns,
piled on one another, are seen coating its side. To get to it,
all that is necessary is to keep the summit in view, following
the path as far as it goes. The way to it is a little fatiguing,
but the colossal sight repays the toil. These fallen columns

346 VESTINA NUOVA — VALLEY OF 8TANGHELLINI.

have evidently come from the upper part of the moantain ;
and it may be again observed how this volcanic phenomenon
is based on limestone, the strata of which, as developed be-
low, are beautifully regular. The traveller may now descend
by a nearer way, in returning, to Chiampo. Half a mik
from' Chiampo I again turned off to the left, and immediately
began to ascend the flank of a mountain by a steep and rocky
path leading to Monte Bolca. Though not more than fixir
miles to Vestina Nuova, the road was so bad, and the sun's
heat, as reflected from the limestone, so unmercifully brow-
beating, that it made the march to it both painful and tedious.
Vestina Nuova and Bolca are described as being still the
abodes of a remnant of the ancient Cimbri, distinguishable fi*om
the Italians both by their language and manners. This I did
not find to be the case ; but the inhabitants here spoke of a
strange people, inhabiting a place still more obscure and re-
mote from the civilisations of life, called Campo Fontana.

Before descending to Vestina Nuova, let the traveller
observe the height immediately over him, where he will per-
ceive broken columns of basalt still in situ, shooting up their
stunted shafts just above the surface. The horse-path down
to Vestina is as rough as that I had just ascended ; and on
my arrival there, I found no albergo or osteria to rest and
refresh myself in ; but was referred, by the wretched inhabit-
ants of the place, to a house below the church, in the yallbt
OF Stakghelliki, where I was informed they gave accommo-
dation to travellers. The reader may guess at the sump-
tuousness of this, when he is told, that all these good people
could offer me was a little bad wine, and nothing to eat.
This, I must confess, put me out. I had fared hard enough
at times in my travels, but to be able to get nothing at all
para tnaTigiare, was the shortest of all commons. They had
no bed in the house, not even one for the family ; but learning
fi*om mine host that there was a private dwelling near, owned
by the proprietor of this miserable domain, I determined to
obtrude myself on their hospitality by soliciting a night's
lodging. However, observing some sweet hay in the loft, I
thought it a necessary piece of foresight to bargain with my

BASALTIC COLUMNS AND PAVEMENT* 347

man, that, in case I was denied a lodging at ^' the great
house/' I should have leave to sleep amongst the hay.
Having arranged matters thus providently, the tenant of so
much wretchedness, who is the cicerone of the place, con-
ducted me down to ** the lions" of the valley.

Stanghellini is rather a ravine than a valley, at the bottom
of which, where it furcates, a mountain torrent has worn a bed
between clusterings of basaltic columns, which, polished and
levelled by the stream, present all the appearance of a pave-
ment of the most beautiful mosaic work, the pentagonal extre-
mities of the basalt forming the tessellations. Whilst standing
on this natural mosaic carpet, let the traveller look at the fine
groupings of innumerable small basaltic shafts on each side^
and say, does it not suggest the idea of an armoury, where the
consular fasces may have been deposited ? or does it rather
lead to the supposition of their being petrified faggots heaped
perpendicularly on one another, as if intended for the last
grand convulsion of all, when Nature herself shall ascend the
funeral pile ? But it were best to leave the delighted traveller
to the thick-coming fancies of his own creation, and to the
enjoyment of his own feelings ; for the place has a fairy aspect,
and savours of another world. I now re-ascended to the house
of the lady of the manor, where I met a most kind and hos-
pitable reception. I sat down at the family supper-table, in
company of the worthy curate of the parish : we chatted the
evening away most agreeably; the good people the while
wondering not a little what could have brought a stranger
so far from home, to run the risk of so many inconveniences.
Ashamed of the trouble I had unavoidably given, I started
early in the morning, though kindly pressed to stay break-
fast ; and I shortly, and, indeed long afterwards, had reason
to repent refusing their hospitable attention.

The village of Bolca stands about two miles and a half
higher up the mountain ; but wishing to visit the wonderful
deposit of typolithic fish in the Cata dei Petripicati, which
I found to be in this neighbourhood, I luckily fell in with a
guide to the place, in the person of one Giuseppe Cerato,
whose name deserves to be placed in the tablets of the tra-

848 THE PESCARIA^ OK CAVA DEI PETRIFICATI.

Teller^ for his natural sagacity and intelligence. Yoa quit
the road] leading to Bolca, to reach what the people in the
neighbourhood call the Pescabia, and again descend to the
bottom of another ravine, where these organic remains are
found. But, chemin faisant, I may mention that the whole
of this dbtrict is strewed with the debris of basalt in different
states of decomposition* You find it in this condition near
the church of Vestina Nuova, and elsewhere on the road to
Bolca. Where it is in a perfectly comminuted state, it forms
a soil of a lightish-brown colour : when less completely de-
composed, it resembles vesicular lava, probably arising from
the readier destructibility of the crystals it had contained. I
did not fail to bring away specimens of it in all its variety of
alteration.

In the descent to the Pescaria, my guide Giuseppe took
me- to see a coal deposit, where it shews itself creeping from
under a bed of decomposed basalt. There are three strata,
one of which Giuseppe assured me was about twenty feet in
thickness ; but the coal is stony and very incombustible. I
shall have occasion to refer to this fact more at large imme-
diately. The Cava dei Petrificati is now become a misnomer,
as it is no longer a cave, from its roof and sides having been
quarried away in search of the organic remains they con-
tained : these are still found in abundance, and readily,
every where hereabouts, by merely splitting the rock in the
direction of its lamellae. The rock which encloses them is a
foetid schist, and lies immediately under stratified limestone,
in which there exists no trace of the same organic remains.*

* Sereral circumstances demonstrate that the catastrophe which upheaved
the district of Bolca, must have been sudden and instantaneous. In the
museum of the Jardin de$ Plantes, there is an ichthyolites, of the genus fi^
chiia, firom Bolca, holding another in its mouth, which it had not had time
to svrallow ; and others have been found having fish in their belly which
they had not had time to digest — a short process, we know, with fiish. Ibe
same convulsion had, in all probability, uplifted the whole of the Euganean
pseudo-volcanic range of hills, furnishing fire to the Therme at Abano and
Montegrotta, and, by raising the plain which stretches from the foot of the
Rhetian Alps to thai of the Apennines above the level of the Adriatic, exposed
those pebbles of Lydian stone and trachyte which we noticed on its surfiMe.

NATURE AND ORIGIN OF BASALT. 349

What adds to the carioaity of the place, is the circmnstance
of the Bingular admixture of fresh and salt-water fish from
the most remote parts of the ocean — from Otaheite, the Me-
diterranean, the coasts of Japan and Brazil ; from the north-
east side of America, as well as from the coast of Africa*
There are two separate places in this part of the country
where these organic remains are found, and the one more
curious in its productions than the other. Impressions of
leaves are also found in the coal deposit.

Emerging from this deep ravine, I regained the road to
Bolca, and had another opportunity of witnessing stunted
basaltic shafts encompassing, like a mural crown, the summit
of the monntain on which the little church of Bolca stands.
Numerous broken fragments of columns cover its steep flanks;
and when it is recollected, that a space of between 1500 and
2000 feet in height intervenes between the lowest basaltic
developement exposed in the valley of Stanghellini and the
top of this mountain, the circumstance gives rise to a train of
interesting reflections, and naturally leads to the consideration
of that disputed question among the geologists of the two
leading sects which involves the aqueous or pyrogenous
origin of basalt. Werner justly attaches great importance to
the geognostic character of rocks, or the nature in respect to
position which the rock bears to the accompanying substances ;
and from basalt agreeing so universally in its geognostic rela-
tions, many distinguished Wemerians have deduced the com-
mon aqueous origin of all basalts. Now, though the fact is
very generally correct, it is not unexceptionably so ; and, if I
do not deceive myself, this circumstance relative to its situ-
ation even were it universal, and without any exception, may
be explained on grounds which its analogous resemblance to
matters of unquestionable igneous origin, and its ordinary
geol<^ical concomitants, will more feasibly bear out. D'Au-
buisson, one of Werner's distinguished pupils, objects to any
comparison drawn between specimens of basalt taken from
extinct volcanoes and those found elsewhere in support of
their common pyrogenous formation; but unreasonably, in
my opinion ; for as well might any one object to characteristics

350 NATURE AND ORIGIN OF BASALT.

taken from a corpse, in proof of its being of the human speeies.
But to close with our position : the opinion I have formed of
basalt is, that it has been propelled from below, not* by any
sudden eruption, but in consequence of a prodigious force
acting steadily, and from a great depth. A vast stream of
molten matter, propelled onward by subterraneous Tolcanic
power, and subjected to a high, increasing temperature, in
expanding, would first raise up the general crust of earth that
overlaid it, and, meeting with parts where less resistance was
afforded than at others, mountains, in such situations, would
be the consequence ; hence the parallelism of mountain chains
of synchronous elevation : strata which formerly were hori-
zontal, would be placed at every angle of inclination, and
some placed even vertical. Now, whenever the force firom
below was so great as to break through the surfiu», the basalt
would, as a natural consequence, be found on the very sum-
mit of such mountains ; and here, in fact, it is found ; lying
over all other rocks, in those situations where its apparently
anomalous situation has given occasion to so much ingenious
discussion — I allude to the basalt to be seen so generally over-
spreading the tops of the mountains in one part of Saxony.

It has been urged by those who advocate the aqueous
origin of basalt, that, if it had proceeded from below, it
would not have pierced the surface at the very axis of a
cone — precisely tfie spot which presented the greatest re*
sbtance : certainly not, if the mountain previously existed ;
but if it be the subterranean fire which raised the mountain
itself, its summit would, as a mechanical consequence, be the
very place where the basalt would find issues, since the apex
indicates the axis of the greatest power. In some confirmation
of this, it is a fact, that the basaltic-capped mountains in
Saxony are tliose that are the highest ; the force below the
other surrounding mountains not being sufficient to overcome
their incumbent resistance to so great an extent, they hence
shew a less elevation and no basalt.* Another circumstanoe
which goes in support of the idea of basalt having been pro-

* Humboldt observed vast masses both of porphyry and basalt on the
summit even of the Andes, the latter in enormous vertical columns.

NATURE AND ORIGIN OF BASALT. 351

traded from below, is, that it not imfreqoentl j encloses portions
of the rocks it penetrates. The basaltic columns of the As-
cherhabel enclose fragments of sandstone; the body of the
mountain consists of the same rock. Portions of limestone are
not uncommon, and likewise organic petriiactions, as turbinites,
giyphites, &c. Shells even, and impressions of shells, have
been found ; all which are easily accounted for, in supposing
them involyed when the basalt in a fluid state was ascending
to the BuHace. D'Aubuisson, a Neptunist, mentions circum-
stances markedly eyincing the fSsict, that the basalt overlaying
the tops of the Saxon mountains, after issuing from the aper-
ture made through their apex, spread itself on all sides. The
summit of the Stolpen, he tells us, is covered with basalt.
In the court-yard of the castle which stands upon it, a well
has been dug through the basalt 290 feet in depth, although
the exterior thickness of the bed at its edge in only 130 feet,
— a fact proving a greater depth in the centre. The summit
of the Luchanerberg is formed of a cone of basalt, exactly on
the apex of which there is a sinking six or seven feet deep.
In the basaltic platform which forms the summit of the
Meisner, in Hessia, a cavity exists which has been described,
and disputed, by different geologists, as being the crater of an
extinct volcano. Without professing to have seen this de-
pression, may it not have been formed in the same way as I
conceive the cup on the top of Monte Nuovo, at Baise, to
have happened, that is, after the basaltic matter had been
ejected on the platform, and the force from below had ceased
to act, the fused mass sunk on cooling in the direction of the
aperture whence it had issued, and thus left the cavity ?

It is in this way that I think many of the Puys in Anvergne
were formed. These volcanic hills rest on a plateau, and,
from the description given of them by Mr. Scrope, I am
inclined to infer that the main mass of lava, of which they are
composed, was thrown up fix>m an abyss, and not ejected
from the craters ; and although a few of them may have con-
tinued in action for some time after, they shortly became
extinct for want of pabulum — limestone and water.

A teuct of a somewhat analogous nature is mentioned by

352 NATURE AND ORIGIN OF BASALT.

the same candid observer, D'Aubuisson, of columns of basalt
shooting up from another basaltic platform of a mountain, the
name of which I have forgotten, and diverging outwards, like
radii, from a centre; indicating by this the spot which gave
vent to the molten matter. Most of the basaltic mountains in
Saxony have the form of a truncated cone ; on the troncaticm
lies the basalt. When this pyrogenous matter (for so I must
call it, agreeably to my belief) finds a free and disencumbered
exit, it spreads amorphous over the surrounding surface ; firom
cooling under a less pressure it gets a granular structure, and
then usually obtains the name of greenstone ; but as it dips,
its character changes, and it gradually passes into basalt.
The hornblende and felspar, of which basalt chiefly consists,
not being able to separate so readily into distinct crystals, are
blended together, and are kept so by the more gradual cool-
ing of the liquid mass; and by the incumbent pressure of its
own weight increasing the farther it dips from the surfiuse.
Hence it is, that often, while the surface is amorphous, the
more central part assumes a crystalline, that is a coluomar
form, (a fact which the Meisner exemplifies,) wherever any
chasm or fissure exposes its interior structure. D'Auboisson
compares it, in one place, to wood piled in a timber-yard.

The prismatic form of a basaltic column must be ad-
mitted to be a crystallisation ; and although not unifi>nn in
the number of its sides, seeing the process on so colossal
a scale is liable to so many unwieldy obstacles, a colunm
of basalt is, I conceive, nevertheless a crystal. The most
usual form is a hexagon ; others have only five sides ; some
only three ; and others, again, as many as seven or eight ;
so that it is difficult to affix, with certainty, its precise
form. Crystallisation, as every one knows, only takes place
under certain circumstances, and the more or the less these
are favourable, by so much will the perfection of the process
be modified. In all the columns of basalt which I have
examined, apparently having but three or four sides, two
or more narrow faces were to be observed, like the edges of a
bevelled crystal, thus evincing the effort the process made to
approach the perfect form of the crystal, whatever that may

ORIGIN AND NATURE OF BASALT. 353

be. It seems essential for basalt, when it assumes the
oolumnar form, that it should cool in the most undisturbed
and gradual manner ; and it is from this necessary circum-
stance, I take it, that arises the distinction between basalt
and lava, in the manner of enclosing the crystallisations they
contain. In the former, the crystals are known exactly to
occupy the cells which enclose them ; whereas those found in
lava often lie so loose in the cavities they occupy, as to make
a rattling noise when shaken. But when we consider the
difference of circumstances under which the process occurs,
the matter is not so difficult to account for. Lava, when
ejected, being exposed usually in a broad sheet to the open
air, and under no pressure but that of its own weight, con*
tracts irregularly ; basalt, again, is pressed upon all sides by
the rock it has pierced ; its stitte of fusion, by cooling, gradu-
ally condenses as it ascends, and penetrating the sur&ce in
this yiscid form, it spreads itself sparingly and reluctantly,
exposing a less surface to the atmosphere ; and hence, by
contracting gradually and uniformly, it closely embraces th6
crystals whidb have separated from the general mass.

It has been ui^ged by those who advocate the aqueous
formation of basalt, that while the upper part of the column
consists of true basalt, the inferior is often composed of a
clayey substance ; and as the latter is of aqueous origin, the
Neptunist infers so must be the superincumbent basalt; but
this, I apprehend, is not a necessary sequitur. Clay, we
know, is a matter very commonly ejected by volcanoes;
indeed, Humboldt, as we have cited before, mentions volcanoes
in Quito that eject little else : we have seen it in abundance
in the neighbourhood of Radicofani and Castel-Gondolfo ; and
that these two substances should pass into one another by
imperceptible gradations, admits of a ready solution, by con-
sidering that the power which protruded both from below
would naturally mingle the clayey with the ftised basaltic
matter which had immediately preceded it. Hence comes
the transition not unfrequently observable in basaltic columns,
first of clay into wacke, and the latter into basalt ; in fact,
the wacke in all such situations is merely an intimate admix-

A A

354 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF BASALT.

ture of the two other ingredients.* Were they merely sedi-
mentSy as the Wernerians believe, how happens it that the
substance of the greatest specific gravity and least solulnlity
should always occupy the upper part of this deposition ?

Considering it necessary that basalt, if the product cl
volcanic agency, should partake of the nature of the rock in
which it is situated, the Wemerian advances, as anotho*
objection to this supposition, the near identity of the chemical
constituents of basalt wherever it is found. But if circum-
stances make it probable that it is forced upwards from a
depth beneath the rock it pierces, the homogeneous nature
of different basalts is, perhaps, rather an additional confirm-
ation of the truth of the opinion than otherwise.

Although vestiges of volcanic agency are not every where
seen where basalt is found, yet in many places the neighbour-
hood to a distance more or less remote shews the action and
effects of subterranean fire. The hot baths of Carlsbad are
not far from the Meisner, and the pseudo-volcano of Epterode
is but a league from it. We have spoken of the hot spring
of Abano and Montegrotta, not far from the basaltic develop-
ments of Bolca and Monte Matolda, and of the peendo-
volcanic appearance of the whole range composing the
Euganean hills. The baths of San Filippi, again, are close
to Radicofani, where the effort made by this mountain, in
vomiting forth so much blue slime, has not been sufficient to
quiet the intestine disturbance in its neighbourhood ; whence
else the earthquakes which are from time to time felt at
Siena ? Coal, it may be further remarked, is very frequently

^ The colomDs of the Scheibenberg are of this tripartite uatare. In die
interior of the basaltic mass which lies on the top of the Pahlbeig, in Upper
Saxony, prismatic columns are exposed in a gully of the mountains, standing
vertical, and continue their form and position into the subjacent wacke.

Wacke, I suspect, is a term sometimes applied without sufficient dis-
crimination to a rock of both an igneous and aqueous IbmuUion, having
resembling external characters.

Where clay and basalt meet by the intenrention of what I would dianc-
terise as basaltic wacke, we have the amalgamation of the two grand agents
which conjointly have formed, in my opinion, all the phenomena of geognosy,
fire and water.

ORIGIN AND NATURE OF BASALT. 355

ibiind where basalt is. Both in Bohemia and on the Meisner
thick beds of basalt are found alternating with beds of coaL
Now, as coal is generally believed to be of ligneous origin,
this fact introduces the Neptunist into an awkward dilemma,
since each separate bed of coal bespeaks a successive ligneous
deposit, and each varying bed of basalt a new deluge. Even
Werner, mundicidal as his doctrine is, would have paused
ere he drowned the world so often, to account for what no
other portion of the neighbouring country could asiust him in
sustaining. At Burrowstonness, in Scotland, greenstone alter-
nates in a similar manner with coal.

Beds of basalt also are found alternating with both lime-
stone and sandstone, sometimes in very thin layers. This
fact can be explained, and that without etraining probability,
by supposing that when the fused basalt was being forced
irresistibly from below, and almost equally compressed and
resisted from above, it separated the limestone and sandstone
strata, and insinuated itself betwixt them — a supposition
which, from the form basaltic beds assume, comes in aid of
the idea that basalt is a posterior formation to all the strata
of the rock it alternates with, or penetrates and overlays.*

* Professor Jameson, in his account of the island of £igg, one of the
Hebrides, after describing the series of strata where clay-limestone, sandstone,
basalt, and wacke, alternate, observes, ** all these beds are travened in
several places by veins of basalt.''

There is a vein of basalt, among a multitude of others, penetrating pei^
pendicularly the calcareous sandstone of Strathaird, which is Utelf pierced at
iit axii hy a smaller vein of basalt in a zig-zag manner. These basaltic veins
are described by Dr. Macculloch as having descended dirough the sandstone
from the coulto of lava effused above. But, with all deference to such
authority, I think the &ct of the vein being itself pierced through by another,
shews that the issue had proceeded from below, and the zig-zag form of the
inner one proves it. The laiger vein, I conceive, having become partially
cooled and condensed, so resisted the impulse from below as to throw it into
the serpentine shape it takes, which incumbent pressure simply would have
been incompetent to effect, since that could not have exceeded the weight of
a column of basalt equal in length to the depth of the coulee only, and in
diameter to the transverse area of the vein itself— a power quite insufficient,
in my opinion, to overcome the tenacity of the condensed column it had to
penetrate.

356 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF BASALT.

It is in this manner, I conceiyey that alternations of sbell-
limestone and basalt are formed ; and not as D'AaboissoD
would force on the Volcanist, by calling up from '* the vasty
deep" alternating sub-marine eruptions and marine organic
depositions. It is in this way that I account for a matter of
pyi-ogeneous origin being found alternating even with rocks
of undoubted aqueous formation. Basalt has sometimes been
found in contact with coal, and yet the latter has shewn no
marks of combustion ; when fragments of limestone, also, get
impacted in lava in a state of fusion at some d^tb, they
retain their carbonic acid, notwithstanding the intensity of
the heat, from the magnitude of the supeijacent pressure. In
the instance of the coal, again, if the suffusion of the liquid
basalt over its surface took place so rapidly as to exclude the
atmospheric air from between the points of contact, no com-
bustion, it is evident, could ensue : but though it has been
ascertained that such is sometimes the fact, we know of others
where, when basalt has come into contact with ooal, the
latter has been converted into coke and soot.* At Kenbaan
basalt is seen insinuating itself between beds of chalk, con-
verting it at the point of contact into granular marble. In
the island of Raghlin, in the north of Ireland, veins of basalt
traverse both coal and limestone-chalk, where, in the latter
instance, the sides of the chalk contiguous to the basalt are
converted also into fine granular marbles.f

But I daresay the general reader, at least, is tired of so
much about *' chucky stanes.'^ My object has been, in the
foregoing digression, to endeavour, with becoming deference
and reservation, to bring together and reconcile two hostile
elements, fire and water, and their several advocates, the Nep*
tunist and Plutonist, into co-partnership in the construction of
the rude skeleton of this world of ours ; for it is my humble

* Vide an account of Walker's Colliery in the 4th volume of the **Gtih
logical Transactions."

t Vide 3d volume of the same.

A BREAKFAST AT BOLCA. 357

eoQYictiony that ntiless it be through an Ignaqueous Theory
we shall never arrive at a true system of Geognosy : — sed
i diverticttlo ad viam — let us trot.

I think I said that I left my hostess in the valley of
Stanghellini without waiting breakfast, thinking that I could
break my fast at Bolca ; but in this I was disappointed. At a
little shop where some fifteen or twenty shiUings would have
boij^ht all their stock in trade, I expected at least to find
bread and wine ; but they had none at all of the latter ; and
the baker, poor fellow! had his house full of his family lying
sick of a fever, and so I could get no bread. When I heard
of the fever — for very hunger and exhaustion caused me to
go myself to see if I could get any thing to eat — I made a
hasty retreat, glad to escape from a possible sphere of in-
fection. On getting back to my first quarters, the people of
the house had contrived to procure a couple of eggs and a
morsel of bread for me ; and as I sat eating my scanty meal
with my back imprudently turned to an open window, an
icy coldness seized me in the spine, making me shudder from
head to foot, aud ran down it like so much ice-water. The
sensation was too peculiar and violent not to warn me of
some impending disease about to attack me ; so, to drive off
the chill and avert it, I swallowed a little of some vile spirit
they had in the house. The spirit, bad as it was, removed
the alarming sensation I had experienced, and, lest it should
return in a place so devoid of all comfort, I was now desirous
to get to some other, where, if I were to be taken ill, I might
command the necessaries, if not the conveniences, of life.
This untoward accident was the cause which prevented me
from knowing with what the strata of coal situated in the
flank of the mountain over the Pescaria alternated — a point
I had before been anxious to ascertain.

The road from the wretched village of Bolca ascends for
about a mile, when you leave the basaltic soil, and come
amongst mountains composed wholly of . limestone. After
winding round their summits among diverging pathways for
two miles farther, you then begin to descend the Monte
Diavolo — no sobriquet , I can assure the reader, for it is so

358 MONTE DIAVOLO — VERONA.

roughy precipitonSy and rugged, that it is no less than the
devirs job to get down it. Had there been nothing certain
to locate the Tartarus of Virgil^ an antiquarian topographist
might safely have averred diat the path down Monte Diavalo
was not the ^^facilis descensus Ayemi ;*' for of all the ** high-
ways and by-ways" I eyer travelled — and many a ragged
one I have paced — this was certainly the most diabolical.
It is tortuous, stony, narrow, jagged, three-oomeredy and
almost perpendicularly steep, obliging you to ding to some
Sisyphoid fragment of rock above, before you can arrive
on one still more unstable below. Three &tiguing mflea of
such precipitous descent at length brought me and my knap*
sack on the strada regidi^ when I regained composure and
breath, to bestow at my leisure Paddy's blessing on what he
does not like — its namesake's ** luck" to the mountain. I
now found myself only eighteen miles from Verona, where
I arrived in the evening.

VERONA.

This ancient city is divided by the Adige into two unequal
parts. It was founded by the Etrurians, and is said to take
its name from that of one of their most illustrious fiunilies —
Vera. Verona was one of the largest cities in Italy in the
times of the ancient Romans, being able to furnish 50,000
soldiers ; a fact not so impossible, if Tadtus is to be credited
when be tells us that Osteglia, which is now thirty miles off,
was one of its suburbs, and that it contained a population of
200,000 souls — its present population is 70,000.

The dty of Verona stands in a plain terminated by the
Apennines, and is naturally strong and advantageously nta-
ated for defence: it presents a majestic appearance at a
distance, and the country surrounding it abounds in com,
oil, wine, and cattle. The town is clean, and built after the
Grothic or modem -Roman style ; and, by being an entrep6t
between Italy and the other side of the Rhetian Alps, it
has more of the bustle of business than is usual in other
Italian cities.

THE AMPHITHEATRE REMITTENT FEVER. 359

After inBtalling himself in an hotel, the grand and inter-
esting remain of art which it has so long been the object of
ererj traveller's curiosity to see, the Roman Amphithbatbb
at Verona, engages his attention first. This noble ruin still
retains its ancient name of Arena, and having been repaired
at the expense of the city, its interior presents the most perfect
example of an ancient amphitheatre extant. There are forty-
foar ranges of seats for spectators, the uppermost of which
takes in a circumference of 530 paces, and the longest dia-
meter of the ellipsis of the arena is 233 French feet, which,
with the thickness of the walls and corridor included, gives
474 feet for the extreme length of the building. Nothing
now remains of the outer walls but a fn^ment, consisting
of four arches ; but it is - sufficient to indicate its original
grandeur and beauty when entire. A portal 26 feet high
opens, at each extremity of the larger axis, into the in-
terior, where the visitor finds the arena occupied by scaf-
folding, on which all kinds of farces and harlequinades are
daily performed; — a conversion due to the French when
here under the First Consul — that of changing a spot origin-
ally appropriated to scenes of blood into one of laughter-
loving, broad-faced merriment.

I went to the opera in the evening ; and it was whilst
listening to a beautiful performance of Rossini's Semiramide,
that I experienced the return of the fiend that shook me to
the back-bone at Bolca. I thought at first that I had only
got the fidgets ; for, attractive as the performance was, I still
kept in a perpetual round of antics — stretching out my legs,
drawing them in again ; now shifting to the right, now fiicing
to the left ; in short, changing my position every minute, and
yet being uneasy in all. At last, from feeling so uncom-
fortable, I left the opera before the performance was over,
and retired to bed. But I only shifted the scene of my ail-
ment, not its action ; for I had not been long there before I
found myself in a high fever, and became seized with a sort
of rational— the worst of all deliriums, I take it; for if a
man is to be foolish, it is as well not to be sensible of it. I
thought that the room was too small for the bed, and that

360 TOMBS OF THE SCALIGERS — CHURCH OF ST. ZIN.

this crushed me on all sides ; I expected no less than to have
been made brawn of before morning. It was of no use
reasoiiinij: with myself, for I tried that all night long, by ask-
ing myself, how came the l)ed to be in the room if the latter
was not largo enough to hold it; or how came I, ego, into. the
bed unless there were room enough in it for me ? Such inter-
rogatives quieted me only for a second or two, when tlie
former idea would revert as strong and impressive as before.
1 prayed for daylight, to relieve me from the false persuasion ;
at length day broke, and with the darkness the painful hal-
lucination vanished. I got up about eleven, notwithstanding
that I felt as if my brain were bound round with a cord, and
crawled out to see the Tombs of the Scaliger Family,
princes of \ erona, V>efore it became annexed to the Venetian
republic. They are to be found outside of the church of Sta.
INlaria Antica, near the Piazza Signori, and are in the form
of sepulchral temples, ornamented with statuary in armour,
and are extremely fine specimens of the ancient Gothic.
Here, also, the visitor will see other tombs and sarcophagi
— one of a Count Xogaro, as old as MCCX. Hence I went
to another ancient Gothic structure, the Cuurcii of San
Zenone.

The Church of Saint Zin, as it is familiarly called, is
situated near the Porta of the same name, and aftbrds
samples of rudeness of sculpture not often to be met with.
The visitor has onlv to ol)serve that which was meant to adorn
each side of the front portal, to see from what barbarous
beginnings an art of so much sul)lime beauty may regenerate.
On one i^ide you have represented the history of our Saviour;
on the other, that of our first father: remark the sinsrular
idea of the creation of Eve, — the scul[>tor has joined our first
parents together by a common umbilical chord! The bronze
doors of this })orch are not less singulaily executed : among
nrany other representations of events, a Crucifixion, and
that of Christ's Entkv into J kri salem, l)afile all descrip-
tion ; they are so rudely and even ludicrously executed. The
interior of this church possesses ol)jects not less curious. To
the right as you enter you see several rude statues of apostles

THE CATHEDRAL — ITS PAINTINGS. 361

and saints; and in the tribune there is a curioas and very
ancient canred wooden Imagb of St. Zin, in a sort of movable
altar, and seyeral as rude frescos. One of these represents
St. Gborob on Horsbback, and a female standing by. The
knight, with the gallantry of chivalry, totally neglects the
dragon, and allows him to make a tooth-pick of his lance,
whilst he the while is casting sheep's eyes on the damsel.
On the left yon see a Crucifixion, which seems as old as the
time of Cimabue ; and there are two paintings in the choir,
which, though much injured by time, shew considerable
talent : the one to the right is an Adoration of thb Magi ;
that to the left, Christ disputing in thb Tbmplb — a paint-
ing which, in the cast of its composition, puts one in mind of
Raphael's School of Athens.

I now found myself so fatigued and exhausted with the
little exertion I had made, that I was obliged to return to my
hotel in the Corso ; and about seven the same evening the
exacerbation came on, and forced me to bed. The halluci-
nation of the preceding night haunted me again the whole of
this, and disappeared, as usual, at day-break. The fever ran the
same remittent course for the next and the two ensuing days ;
when, during the fourth night, a hot, clammy perspiration
broke out, but in partial spots, than which the cold and clammy
sweat of death could not, as I conceive, be more horrible.
However, I was somewhat better in the morning, and it was
not until forty-eight hours after that my friend again visited
me ; but, as is not unusual in the world, my old friend had
got a new face ; in &ct, I was taken with a regular fit of the
ague. Leaving myself, therefore, to shake in my shoes, I
will give the reader some notice of a visit I paid in the pre-
ceding interval to the Duomo.

The Cathedral of Verona, another Got]^ic structure,
contains several fine paintings,* and, among others, the cele-
brated Assumption by Titian. This is one of the many which
the Louvre was obliged to dbgorge at the restoration of the
Bourbons in 1814 : it is over the first chapel to the left on

* See the Catalogues.

362 ARCHES OF OALLIBNUS AND OAVI — THE ASS, A RELIC.

entering. The second and third chapels on the same side
contain paintings by the Chevalier Liberi ; and opposite, Ae
visitor will see a Transfiguratiok and a Last Supper hjr
the warm pencil of Ugolino, a modem. The tribane of th»
church forms a handsome ellipsis, the architecture of whidi
is by San Michele ; and on its dome you see an Assumptioit,
by Francisco Turbido ; a boldly conceived and well-execoted
fresco. Herei also, you find the ashes of Pope Ludas III.
whose fortune is denoted by the following simple inscription :

OSSA . LUCII . III. ROMA . PULSI . INVIDIA.

Verona possesses other remains of antiquity besides the
Arena. In the Corso, the traveller will find the arch that
has taken the name of Gallienus, although the better-informed
antiquaries ascribe to it a date antecedent to the time of
this emperor; and there is another to be seen in the Via
Leoni — that of Gavi, erected, as some think, by Vitruvins.
Vitruvius was a native of this city ; and one of the bridges
across the Adige, which he constructedi still bears his name.
Verona, likewise, has the distinction of numbering among its
natives the elder Pliny, Catullus, and Cornelius Nepos ; the
Emperors Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian, were also boni
here ; and one of not less note than any of them, Saint Peter
the Martyr. Talking of something relative to the church,
puts me in recollection to mention a circumstance of con-
sequence to the fame and honour of this good city.

As many towns have striven with pious and landaUe
industry to obtain possession of some relic or other of value,
Verona is not behind the other places in Italy so blessed ; for
it can, or at least could, boast of possessing the carcass of the
identical ass on which our Saviour rode when he entered into
Jerusalem ; and the story of the possession, which the good
people of Verona tell, is as follows: — The ass, it seems,
when given '* the keys of the field," that he mi^t pass the
remainder of his days as he wist, wearying, it would appear,
of rambling about Palestine, took it into his head to travel,
as, indeed, many of his kindred and posterity do even to this
day : he must needs see foreign parts, and, by way of novelty.

TRAVEL HQBfEWARD — BRESCIA. 363

Neddy preferred going by sea. But how to accomplish this
was the crttar, for the reader mnst know that there were no
steamers in those days ; when, all of a sadden, and without
any hyperborean assistance, the waves flattened as if by a
smoothing iron, and the liquid element became hard as crys-
tal. So Neddy walked forth on his travels ; and after having
visited, for so the legend verifies, the islands of Cyprus, and
Rhodes, and Candia, and Malta, and Sicily, he ascended the
Gulf of Venice, and tarried on the very spot where that city
now stands ; but finding the country aguish, and the pasturage
indifferent, Neddy shifted his quarters. Taking the route of
the Adige, instead of going by land, he at length arrived,
dryshod, at Verona, and there abided. After living in great
credit for several years, Neddy at last went the way of all
flesh — he died one day ; an event announced by a lamentable
and universal braying over the whole land : never before was
there a more melancholy melody heard at the funeral of
any ass like unto this, not even in Arcadia I Divine honours
were paid to his relics, which were religiously preserved in
the belly of an artificial donkey, to the long and great joy
and edification of all good souls. This sacred bijou is, or was,
kept in the church of Our Lady of the Organs ; and the holy
statue, with its still more holy entrails, used formerly to be
carried in procession by monks in full pontificals on the
lamentable anniversary of poor Neddy's death — a ceremony
which, I regret to say, the lukewarm piety of tho age has
caused to be discontinued.

I, too, finding the country aguish, was desirous of shifting
my quarters ; so, after stopping the paroxysm one period by
a little quinine and a whole bottle of wine, taken about a
quarter of an hour before the expected attack, I shouldered
my knapsack once more, and trudged on towards Milan.

The reader must pardon the n^ligencies and ignorances
of this part of the tour ; for I was now anxious to get out of
Italy and homeward, for other reasons besides my state of
health. On arriving at Brescia I had a relapse of the ague,
which prevented my seeing the celebrated crucifix which is
in the church of the Dominicans, called the Orifiamnuif the

364 MILAN ITS HrSTORT.

identical one, we are asanred, that appeared in the air to
Constantine the Great, when on the point of engaging in
battle against Mazentius. Lately, also, they had

some ancient substructions and statuary here ; but I was too
unwell to visit them. Between Brescia and Milan we eras
the Adda. On arriving at the latter place I was again laid
up by a relapse, which detained me there for five weeks
before I could renew my march ; for though my constitation
was somewhat shaken by the long-continued fotigne I had
undergone, my resolution was not a whit ; and I was as de-
termined as ever to put down my knapsack at Calais alone
— or drop by the way.

MILAN.

A tertian ague leaves certain intercolumniations of time
exempt from severe suffering, which, though short, allows
space for some imperfect remarks and observations, the result
of which I shall now give.

Milan, the largest and finest city of all Cisalpine Gaul,
was founded by the Etrurians, who, having crossed the Apen-
nines, established themselves in this part of Italy, and founded
the ancient Mediolanum about 587 years before the Christian
era. This name, it is said, was given to it, from a sow being
found half covered with wool {i stie dimidia lanata) on the
spot where Mediolanum, the modem Milan, now stands.*

Like some other cities in the north of Italy, it has been
subjected to frequent reverses of fortune. Brennus, the
leader of the Gauls, who took and pillaged Rome under the
dictatorship of Camilla, reduced it to ashes in his track of
devastation. Attila razed it to the ground a second time.
Eusebius, archbishop of Milan, rebuilt it ; when the Goths,
about a century afterwards, overturned it once more, and
drenched its ashes with the blood of 30,000 of its inhabitants.
Milan, as if possessed of the never-dying vitality of the
phceniz, again rose above its ruins, prouder and more power-
ful than ever ; when, choosing grossly to insult the empress,

* '' £t quae lanigerft de sue nomen habel/' — SidoH* Apol.

THE CATHEDRAL OF MILAN. 365

wife of Frederick Barbarossa, by making her ride through
the city with her face turned to die tail of an ass, he besi^ed
and took it, in 1162, razed it again to the ground, and,
passing a plough over its site, he sowed it with salt ! In a
sum, Milan has been besieged above forty times, taken nearly
thirty times, and four times totally destroyed.

Modem Milan is said to contain 300,000 inhabitants ; it
is ten miles in circumference ; possesses thirty-two colleges,
and two hundred and thirty churches, ninety-six of which are
parochial ; and its population consists of a Babylonish medley
of Italians, Grermans, French, and Swiss.

The principal lion of Milan is its Cathedral, which the
Milanese call the eighth wonder of the world ; and great
cause for wonder, certes, there is about it, when it is recol-
lected that it was begun in 1386 and is not yet finished ! But,
to my taste, it is one of those examples of elaborate archi-
tecture that do not please. It wants grandeur of effect, and
excites a sentiment not more elevated than that produced by
a Chinese pagoda in ivory — its innumerable points and pin-
nacles are so finical, and its infinity of fret-work is absolutely
teazing. There are above 4000 statues, it is said, placed
without and within this great Gothic edifice. On the grand
altar you see a temple of solid silver, supported by six
Corinthian columns of the same metal, at least six feet in
height, under which stands the tabernacle. The outside of
the choir is adorned with bas-reliefs, and several of them are
good : one is rather singular in its representation of the mar-
riage in Cana — the company appear all intoxicated. Imme-
diately under the grand altar is the Chapel and Tomb which
enclose the body of St. Charles Borromeo, richly ornamented
with bafr-reliefs chased in massive silver. There are a few
good paintings in this church : one wherein two angels appear
dictating the Apocalypse to St. John ; another representing
David*s triumphant return from slaying Ooliath ; and a
third appeared to me to depict the scene described in the
26th verse of the 68th Psalm. The two last are organ pieces.
There is an excellent bronze figure by Aretin, on a monu-
ment to one of the Medici in the right transept.

366 CHURCHES — ST. DENIS, ST. EUSTORGB, ST. AMBROSE.

The Church of St. Dekis contains the body of
who, after his decapitation, walked with his head under his
arm from Montmartre, so called finom being the place where he
suffered, all the way to the town of St. Denis, which took its
name from this miraculous circumstance. Yet in such diffi-
cult undertakings we have good authority for believing '* c'est
le premier pas seulement qui coiite." It was brought to
Milan by his successor in the archiepiscopal see, St. Ambrose,
where, if chronicles are to be believed, it continued to perform
the most surprising marvels. It opened its own coffin — niee
upright, having its head still under its arm — saluted St
Ambrose — asked the news — and, on laying itself down again,
politely bade him good-bye.

The Church of St. Eustorgb once possessed the bodies
of the three Magi : they were removed to C<dogne when
Barbarossa destroyed the city, but the coffins remain; and
they likewise shew a piece of gold which made a part of
the offering presented to the infant Jesus in the manger at
Bethlehem. Here also you see the Tomb of St. Pbtbb the
martyr : it is of alabaster, and contains his body, but without
the head, for that is enshrined in a tabernacle of crystal.

The DuoMO has likewise its relic — one of the nails used
in the crucifixion of our Saviour, which Constantino the Ghreat
had made into a horse's bit. This invaluable piece of rusty
old iron is held in the highest veneration, and was happily
discovered by St. Ambrose himself, who was told in a dream
that he should find it in the shop of a dealer in marine stores
at Rome.

The church of the patron saint of Milan, St. Ambrobb,
also deserves a visit, although the Milanese have not always
treated their patron with the respect due to such especial
protection. When the French army was descending the Alps
before entering Italy, St. Ambrose was applied to to avert the
menaced invasion ; his statue in bronze, in token of com-
pliance with the solicitation, extended its arm ; and the
faithful inhabitants, confiding in the miraculous sign, believed
that the invader could not enter Milan. What was their
astonishment when they saw the hostile army approach the

CHURCH DELLE GRAZIE — THE CENACOLO. 367

town — enter the town — quarter in the town? What did
not St« Ambrose deserve ? Why, they, for thus deceiving
them, actually committed the statue to prison for the mis^
demeanour! The church of St. Ambrose contains the brazen
serpent which Moses animated in the wilderness, and which
the king Ezekias broke on seeing the idolatrous Jews wor-
ship it : the blows of the hammer which the king gave it are
still visible.

Several councils have been holden in this church; and
it was here that formerly the emperors of Germany were
crowned with the iron crown as kings of Rome. Some even
of these kings lie buried in this church ; among others, the
blessed St. Sigismund, king and martyr. In the library of
this church is the original manuscript of Josephus's history,
written on papyrus. In one of the chapels of this church St.
Aug^stin was baptised; and it was on the way to the font
that he and St. Ambrose composed the beautiful and well-
known canticle {Te Deum)y "^ We praise thee, O Grod ! we
acknowledge thee to be the Lordl" — each sin^ng an altera
nate verse.

A relic somewhat different from any we have been lately
speaking of, is to be seen in the Church dbllb Grazie —
Da Vinci's celebrated fresco of the Gem acolo. It adorns the
walls of the refectory ; but I despair of being able to give any
idea of this sublime composition, and shall not attempt it.
Fortunately for posterity — for it is much defitoed and fast
going to destruction — Morghen, in his well-known engraving
of this fresco, has snatched it from total perdition ; and to
this I must refer. The traveller will find the Ghurch delle
Grazie near the Porta Vercellina, in the vicinity of that of
St. Ambrose.

Disabled by sickness, I did not go to see the Cabinet of
Paintings adjoining the Ambrosian library, nor the Gallery
at the Brera ; nor did I visit the Lazzarbto, nor hear the
famous echo at the Casa Simonetta.

Goitres I observed to be common in Milan, and agues are
rife throughout all Lombardy.

By this time I had again succeeded in putting a stop to

368 COLD FIT OF AN AGUE — QUIT MILAN.

my agae ; and having had, too frequently of late, nothing
eke to contemplate except the disagreeablenesB of my own
Bensations and their rationak^ whilst under a paroxysm of
ague, I may mention, for the information of the medical
reader, that the first thing I felt peculiar, giving me a distant
intimation of the approaching fit, was a singular sensation in
my inside among the viscera supplied with nerves from the
ganglionic and spinal plexuses; and this I felt some time
before what are usually reckoned the preliminary symptoms
— oscitation, horripilation, or any other 'eUion whatever. This
was followed by a sense of movement and flatulence within
me. Shiverings passed over my frame, succeeding each other
at short intervals, till the whole muscular system became in-
volved in one general and violent tremor ; and yet the pecu-
liarity was, that from the first shiver to the full establishment
and completion of what is usually denominated the cold stage,
I experienced no sensation of cold. The weather, I may
observe, was now excessively hot ; but the fact proves this
much, that the muscular tremor in the first stage of an ague-
fit is not necessarily connected with or occasioned by a sense
of cold, but may be independent of, and unaccompanied by
it. I underwent the ordeal so repeatedly — I directed my
attention to the fact so carefully — and was so surprised at a
circumstance not known or acknowledged, as far as I am
aware, by the faculty, that I speak positively of this patho-
logical phenomenon. But it is time to throw physic where
Hamlet did, and with it the ague — ^bad luck to it for teaching
me so much !

Letters which I received at Milan had acquainted me
that, during the latter part of these travels,

** La parque i la sourdine avait diablement fil6,"

which made me anxious to get homeward. The reader,
therefore, who has so long been my fellow-traveller, must
merely cast a glance at the beautiful Lake Maooiobb ; at
IsoLA Bblla, its terraces, cypresses, and orangery ; at I sola
Madrb, and at the different villages he passes through,
situated on its border — Avona, Sesto, Bavbmo.

l'homme est Ni: pour souffrir. 369

The night I got to Domo-Dossola I had the luck to
sleep in a bam instead of a bed, by one of those accidents
which had occurred to me before when in better health to
bear them. Not perfectly aware of the extent of my weak-
ness, and thinking I could walk faster and farther than my
enfeebled strength permitted, I got once more benighted.
Obliged at last to give up all hope of reaching Domo-Dossola
that night, for by this time I was ready to drop, I put up at
a bam I found open by the road-side about one o'clock in the
morning, not without a strong apprehension that I had tra-
yelled out of the right road. As I crept cautiously forward in
the dark to explore where I could lie down, I expected every
moment to be seized by the collar by some clumsy mastiff
or other, so set to coaxing the imaginary brute, as I kept
nestling myself snugly in among the straw. When daylight
broke next morning, 1 rose to reconnoitre, and found, to my
surprise, that my quarters had been taken up in the very out-
skirt building of the very town I was so long in search of
the night before. ^* Fortune de guerre !" quoth I ; '^ so
again let it pass — L'homme est n6 pour souffrir. II pleure
en naissant ; en grandissant il est sans cesse contrari6 ; et c'est
un pauvre h^re s'il n'a pas le bon esprit de rire de tout cela."
Some people are born and bred up in a barrel, and see no-
thing of the world except through the bung-hole.

The route from Domo-Dossola to Isbll, at the foot of the
Simplon, is exceedingly interesting, and gradually increases
in beauty and grandeur of scenery the nearer we approach
the centre of the Alps. The morning I ascended this Titan
the weather was sultry and lowering. A storm was evidently
brewing in the clouds. It began to blow in violent gusts,
and flashes of lightning darted in splendid and rapid succes-
sion from all parts of the horizon. As I neared the village of
Simplon, a sudden darkness overcast the sky, and I thought
it best to seek shelter from the impending storm under a
cavern which I perceived to the left of the road, and just
above me. After clambering on my hands and knees, I
gained the shelter I sought on the steep of the mountain,
when, all of a sudden, the lightnings became more vivid, and

B B

370 AN ALPINE THUNDER-STORM.

ria?lieil !io near as to dazzle and blind me for an instant ;
poels of thunder followed, and seemed to roll in gigantic
masses over the vault of heaven ; the wind blew with fright-
ful impetuosity, and the rain descended in floods, as if a
superincumbent ocean, become too heavy for longer suspen-
sion in ihe atmosphere, had broken dow^n the equipoise, and
threatened to ingulf the world in a second deluge. IVature
appeared on tire, with Beneficence trying to extinguish it.
The violence of the wind tore oaks and pines up by the roots;
and the torrents of water w hich rolled down from the heights
swept their splintered trunks over the precipices, along with
detached masses of rock and earth thrown together in pro-
miseuous confusion. In the midst of this din of elements,
mv ear was startled bv a clangorous sound of a bell. Tis for
a \\eddinij:, peradvtMiture ? and what may we conclude from
the music, tor that is discordant enough I or hope from the
accompaniment, for it blows a hurricane ? Tis, perchance,
a sunnnons to church, to ))ropitiate Him who rides the storm t
Angels! open the gates of heaven, and let also my prayer
reach the thix)ne of grace! Tis perhaps the annunciation of
death — some one is called upon to render in his account be-
fore the tribunal of his ^luker .^ — O! merciful God, when
put in the balance let none of us be found wanting! On the
winirs oi' the w ind thou sendest forth thv wrath : the universe
shudders in terror of an impending judgment : darkness and
light are indiscriminately blended together as before sepa-
rated by thy tiat I — One more peal and the sky brightened;
llie storm Ux^an to abate — the iiiiu fell in lessened torrents —
the wiiul subsiiltxl ; but loud peals ot thunder continued at
intervals, Kaeh mountain and valley •* had found a tongue" —

•* V'.viv. ;VAK '.o ;xMv I'l-j ra'/.I.r.^ cra^^s among

and, ivnducttxl by mviue to ravine, it soemeil as if the giant
sentii\els of the Al^>s At leni;th Nentured to pass to each other
the iv-assurir.i; wcitch-woi\l- -•" All's welll'*

I !e>uvv'v\l niN uuuvh. ar.vl ou arrixin:;: at the village of
^*iMriv^>. I I'ouuvl thai iiwas the tiiunder that had caused the

PHENOMENA ON THE HIGHER ALPS. 371

tolling of the bell. An Alpine storm is a very delightfiil
spectacle^ no doubt^ but only at the opera, I apprehend, where
the thunder is made by the help of double-block tin, and the
hail and rain by small shot ; then it is enchantingly horri*
tying — ** m&nstrau8 fine/' indeed ; but when the scene is laid
on tfie summit of an Alp, and the spectator crouched in a
low and shallow niche in the mountain's side, the affiur is
somewhat changed : here you have the terribles in wasteful
abundance, and in all their unshackled sublimity — but none
of the comfortable delight.

On the high Alps the traveller will observe a difference
in the appearance of the sun ; its disk seems less, and of a
dazzling whiteness ; but its brilliancy, though vivid, is less
radiant. The stars shine with purest light, without the scin-
tillation which, in the plain, distinguishes them from the
planets, and the moon seems closer to the earth, wading
through a sky of the deepest azure, far behind which the eye
stretches its prying gaze, and loses itself in the ocean of space.
During summer, night does not obscure the summits of these
mountains, and, from the bottom of a valley, you see them
tinged with purple long after sunset ; and loi^ before his
rising, the morning-star announces his coming by a rose-
coloured blush, beautifully tinted by the silvery reflection
from their ice-dad sides. -

On such elevations the clouds are often observed floating
under your feet : you stand above the wind ; for whilst the
storm may sweep along the sides of the very mountain on
which you are, the most perfect serenity shall reign on its
summit. This I had an opportunity of witnessing on the
morning I started to descend the Simplon. The sun had
already mounted his car when I rose, and as he drove up
heaven's steep, he threw his golden rays in sheets on the
mountain tops, whilst the valleys were yet sunk in murkiest
shade, the playground of a storm that raged below me. It
is amid such sublime scenes as these that one's ideas fly
towards the Almighty Creator of wonders so beautiful and
grand, and, struck with religious terror, the mind assumes a
Druidical cast, and worships the sublime deity of the storm.

372 A RFAERIE — EPITAPHS.

Porc'hed on the frn<j:nic!it of a rock that commanded a virw
of the coh^^sal scene nronnd, my train of thought insensiMv
reverled inward, and I shortly found my self ponderinfr over
a comparison hetween the idleness of my occupation, a sick
and solitary wanderer in the Alps, and the more lionourahle
position of those of my accpiaintances engaged in what is
consiilered the more rational pursuits of life : and then I
tluniLiht of their voluntary shackles, and their formal duties —
of liie unavoidable luinovances of society — of the solicitude?
o{ ambition — of the fictions of vanity — of pleasures that,
like the crah-apple, are red on the cheek and sour and ronirh
at eort^-M)f the thir>t of gold — of the constant need and
>is\phoid toil of amassing it — of the necessity of economising
ii, until, the need ceasing, the habit becomes a disease, and
thi* toil a lit'e-ammity — of the requisite distrust among men
\\\\K\ covetous of others' goods, encompass one another with
snares of deceit and falsehood ; and then 1 thought of tlie
chamois and his excursive, careless freedom — and I thoujxht
of the life 1 led, and how the Fates, in moments like these
I now enjoyed, spin the thread of life in fillets of bur-
ni-iliod gold I

Tivm the top o( the Simplon you descend, with a rapid
and easy j>ace, to the town of Brigg, situated at the upper
t \trt inity oi' the \ alais. At Sign, about eight posts from
Ihigg, tlure are t>No Ciuious epitaphs in the cathedral, on a
man and liis w ife o( the name of Supersax, running thus :

ON TUK WIFE.

\^.v^. MccifLXxiirr.

//:.• fi.''." sistc iifiiiUi'n tnortti/i nuditurc viator .
Ixisi , h."/ sitt,>: risctfd uiof fc J'ii:eiit.
r.: -'ii-'t : •! i: {'.".'/.< \ "^ v\0 sul> ruiH' y?//V.NT(> :
>.'i''.',» I'l .'ti '/.v ovnii'i t'l'iiniit cmrit ift r.

thi tbe other side of the chapel, on the right, you read :

>".'...'(• r/'i. F.\ >>//■<•/',•; >/^<//i» rijrcttiti Unfruni.
//.•i »v//.'/, >!u nti s, }itct(>r<i lotid ct/htnt,
Nn\\ Ni pj u si<tttis idct't /lie iiiltura viiorunt^
\ 'J?', '::.'»»• »•/(•/«.< sdxm ^^wx tii^it.

GOITRE — ITS CAUSE. 373

In his way to Martigny the traveller is struck with the
prevalence of that enlargement of the throat, among the
inhabitants of the towns and villages he passes through,
called goitre, and of those unfortunate beings who scarcely
can claim kindred with humanity, known by the name of
cretins. Writers on these two diseases have contented them-
selves, for the most part, with translating Foder6's opinions,
without examining the subject for themselves. One after
another tells us the old story of the effect of drinking snow-
water in producing goitre, forgetting that this disease is very
prevalent in places where no snow-water exists.* We need
not go out of England to prove this — a goitrous enlargement
of the thyroid gland is so common in Derbyshire as to have
obtained a name from the county — the Derbyshire neck.
The same diseased enlargement prevails on the banks of the
Severn ; and I have observed it not unfrequently in almost all
the towns and villages on those of the Thames, firom Walling-
ford down to Marlow. Many analogous facts prove that a
moist veA foggy situation favours the appearance of this dis-
ease, as river-sides when shut in between hills, as in England,
and narrow valleys encompassed by high mountains, as in
those of the Swiss and Tyrol Alps. Females are known to
be more liable to this disease than men. Another singular
&ct is, that though they be small in females whilst they re-
main single, goitres are observed to become much increased
after marriage by child-bearing; and, to evince the influence
of situation on this disease, it is a known fact, that in instances
where the disease had made but little progress, females who
pass the summer on the mountains lose this deformity, which
re-appears as soon as they descend to live in the towns and
villages in the valleys.

Many writers have entertained the opinion that this glan-
dular enlai^ement on the neck, and the state of idiocy called
cr^tinbm, were connected. Foder^ thought so, and his

* Wlience is the snow-water to come from in the Isthmus of Darien, for
instance, where goitres attain a size so enormous as sometimes to descend to
the waist ; or in Sumatra, where the same disease prevails, and no snow is
ever seen ?

374 BOMS AMES DE DIEU.

copyists have continued to repeat the idea ; bnt the casual
coincidence of two facts establishes no necessaiy connexion
between theniy for with as much reason might a person con-
nect goitre, which is so yery common a malady in Switzer-
land, with any other disease of the country : eyen Sanssnre
speaks of them as of one and the same nature. But if so, how
comes it that so many thousands affected with the one disease
(goitre) should not shew the slightest indication of the other
(cretinism) — whose goitre shall be monstrously large, and
yet their intellect perfect and unclouded? The circum-
stance solves itself; there is nothing bnt an accidental re-
lation betwixt the two diseases. Cretinism, in its oom-
plete state, presents one of the most humiliating spectacles
human pride can well contemplate. The cretin's countenance
unites all that is most hideous and disgusting: his face is
broad ; his cheek-bones yery prominent ; his nose flat ; his
mouth large, and mostly open ; his lips thick ; his eyes small,
dull, and immoyable ; his forehead low and reclining ; his
complexion earthy, and somewhat livid ; and, what is cha-
racteristically peculiar, his occiput is yery broad, and descends
perpendicularly on the back. The he^ht of the cr6tin seldom
exceeds four feet and a half, — some are a foot less ; his flesh
is flabby, and yet he is generally voracious ; his gait is tot-
tering, and he sustains himself in the upright position with
difficulty : he scarcely ever moves of his own accord, bat
remains as motionless as a plant or an oyster. Cretins hare
eyery sense obtuse : they are frequentiy bom deaf and dumb,
or with their lower extremities paralysed ; in short, a perfect
cr6tin, this *^ Ban Atne de Dieu,** is a more stupid being
than the lowest of the brute creation. The above description
applies to cretinism in the extreme ; but there are varioas
grades of it, from that wherein the unfortunate being seems
to possess the outer form of his species alone, to those in
whom reason is more or less developed. Some, as I have
said, are quite dumb, and almost senseless ; others can only
articulate sounds; others can mutter a few words; whilst
some can be taught by imitation to perform a few of the
simpler offices of husbandry ; some even marry. This dread*

CAUSE AND PREVALENCE OF CRETINISM. 375

fill affiictioD only attacks infancy ; and a child who attains
tea years of age without being affected, is considered ever
afterwards exempted from the disease. Strangers, though
under the age of immunity, who settle in the places obnoxious
to cretinism, are never attacked, but their children are as
liable to it as those of the older inhabitants. A melancholy
instance of this exists in the entire family of the landlord of
the Hotel de la Tour, at Martigny, they being cr6tins, though
neither he nor his wife are natives of the Valais.

Those of the inhabitants who can afford it, sometimes send
their children to the mountains until they are ten or twelve
years old, in order to avoid the disease ; and some even send
their wives when pregnant to the villages on the heights, to
be delivered — precautions, it is said, that are followed by
the happiest results. In all the valleys of the Tyrol these
equivocal beings — half human, half brute — also abound. I
heard of a fiimily at Saltzburg who had, out of eight children,
six cretins among them. In the plains of the Tyrol, the com-
putation is, that of a population of 12,000 souls, from 170
to 200 are cr6tins, and the proportion greatly increases the
deeper you strike in among the valleys. I was told of a little
isolated village not &r from the town of Saltzburg, which was
entirely peopled by these hideous abortions of humanity.
With respect to the probable cause of this endemic malady,
several have been assigned, as goitre, snow-water, drinking
the stagnant waters of the hollows, a humid atmosphere
pent up between mountains, and acted upon by the sun :
but without disputing the power of all or any of these to
induce an unh^thy state of the body, and hence of the
mind, I am of opinion that more may be ascribed to the
influence of indolence, to the want of intdlectual exercise and
education, to the powerful effect of hereditary transmission,
and particularly when all these are backed by excessive
intemperance in one or both of the parents in the use of
q[>iritnous liquors. Talking with the master of the post-house
at Sion on this subject, I was surprised by the information he
gave me of how much the women in this valley were addicted
to the vice of drunkenness. They distil here a villanous

376 A VISIT TO CHAMOUNI.

spirit from potatoes, which the poorer classes of the valley
consume in incredible quantities. What then are we not
justified in ascribing to such a pernicious cause ? When con-
ception takes place under a state of inebriation, and that, too,
habitual, is this to produce no bad efiect? Is the infant to be
suckled on milk imbued with the same deleterious liqnor
with impunity ? I once knew a case of complete and incurable
idiocy brought on in a child by the nurse giving it spirits to
quiet it ; keeping the infant thus constantly stupified by
intoxication, the brain, the organ of the mind, became
paralysed. If my information with r^ard to the fact is
correct, I think we may safely admit habitual intemperance
to a share In the production of cretinism.

I left my knapsack behind me at Martiont, and walked
by the route of the Col du Midi to view Mont Blanc, in the
valley of Chamouni. The road to Chamouni is truly Alpine,
and the scenery, at the same time, both romantic and horrific ;
where the horse-path winds by mountain flanks, covered with
dusky pine-trees, and over precipices, with the moantain-
torrent rushing below. As the valley opens, the scene
becomes theatrical : you behold the verdure which carpets
the valley contrasting with the eternal snows on the sur-
rounding mountains, with forms so proud, gigantic, and
haughty. Here, your eye is caught by pinnacles of ice
shooting up in every fantastic shape, representing towers,
and obelisks, and pyramids, shining more resplendent than
the purest alabaster; there, a nascent stream creeps from
under a glacier, or, dashing down through a thousand cure-
vices, it plunges from iceberg to iceberg, when, re-uniting
its brawling waters, it tranquilly conducts them through the
valley, as a swan its brood of young. The pasturage on the
mountain's side was clad with flocks and herds, the valley
below with cultivated fields. At every turn of the road a
new prospect opened : the sunshine of the valley changed for
the glassy lustre of some ice-capped height ; now the dark

MONT BLANC AND ITS SCENERY. 377

shadows of a forest socoeed the gay flowers of a smiling
meadoWy or all at once the scene presented the horrors of an
Anstic deserty where mountains lifted up their supercilious
headSy endrded with ice-bound coronets, while their base
was encompassed by a vast extent of solid ice, and their
ravines with glaciers, giving to fancy the picture of cub
Nature yet unlicked issuing from the womb of Chaos.

The hotels at Chamouni are deservedly reckoned two of
the best on the continent, for here the traveller meets with
all he can reasonably desire — good beds, good fare, and
obliging attention.

I slept the night at the foot of the highest mountain in
Europe ; and early on the following morning I sallied out
to view Mont Blanc, Montant-Vbrt, the Mba db Glacb,
and the other lions of the vicinity. But these are objects
which have been so often virited, that it were needless in me to
attempt to sketch what leaves the most pictorial imagination
so infinitely behind to figure even in its most shadowy outline.
I may merely say, that the evening prospect of the general
scenery pleased and impressed me the most, when seated over
the glacier from under which the Arve steals into life, beneath
a canopy of sky of deepest blue, with regions of snow of the
most dazzling white over my head, the lofty summit <^ Mont
Blanc to my right, and the glacier of the ** Mer'^ at my
feet. Silence reigns here in her most frightful guise, amidst
terror and solitude, unless when broken by the night-screech
of birds of prey, or the breaking loose of an avalanche.

Next day I started on my return to Martigoy, and, con«
trary to the advice of the landlady of the hotel, 1 took the
route by the C!ol db Bavmb, instead of the one I came.
Although the day was fine in the valley, yet, from eertain
appearances cognisable only by the practised eye, the good
lady predicted a storm on the mountains, and the event
proved she was right. The valley is subject to dangerous
hurricanes in the spring and autumn, and they are still more
terrible on the heights. The winds engulfed in the deep
ravines, and confined among chains of rocks, escape at times
in gusts so violent as to take the breath away from the tra^

cc

378 AN ALPINE SNOW-STORM.

Teller caught in their trad: ; and when a fall of snow is
joined with these gusts of wind^ which it often is, it darkens
the sky. If the traveller stops, he dies of cold, or is buried
under the storm ; if he proceeds, he is in danger ewerf
moment of falling over some precipice. Part of this scene
actually occurred. When somewhat more than halfway up
the mountain, I was overtaken by one of the hurricanes I have
alluded to, which drifted the snow in clouds from the neigh-
bouring pinnacles, and at the same time a sleety rain fell in
abundance. Lest I should fall into some ravine, for I now
could not see the way before me, I took refuge from the
stonh, as much as a hea{^ of stones piled up for the purpose
by some shepherd-boy, as I supposed, afforded; and when
under the lee of such sorry shelter I became sensible how
easy a matter it was to be made to die in such a sitoatioii.
Had the season been ftirther advanced, or had the storm
continued for some hours longer, I might have had an oppor-
tunity of inscribing my own Hie jacet on the cairn, without
farther trouble to my fiiends ; but the wind abating, and the
drift ceasing to fall, I gathered myself up, and sought the
summit of the col. Here I found the skeleton of a house
intended as a place of refreshment and shelter for travellers,
but which had never been finished. The rain continued to
pour down in a torrent, and I was wetted to the skin when
I arrived at a miserable cabin at the bottom of the next
valley. Here I dried myself, and got what little they had to
give me to eat, but not without paying rather exorbitantly
for it. As the day advanced, the weather became finer, and
I arrived betimes in the evening at Martigny.

And now my journal must draw to a close ; for though
it is many a long mile hence to Calais, the weary way, as
soon as we get into France, offers little to merit remark.
I arrived at Geneva by the usual route of St. Maurice,
St. Gingo, and by the beautiful shores of the lake. I suffered
a relapse of my ague on the way ; and as I sat on a stone
by the road-side, patiently shaking out the cold fit, it recalled
to my mind what I had said of Guido's Beatified Spirit, and
about the manufacture of snow-drift. This accident detained

GENEVA — CALAIS — MES ADIEUX. 379

me at the Couronne for ten days. I crossed the Jura ; got to
Dijon; thence to Paris. Here again I had a relapse, and
was detained a week : at length, arriving at Calais, I laid
down my knapsack, the old and faithful companion of my
way, of the contents of which my fellow-traveller, the gentle
reader, has now seen more than the douanier who examined it.
From him, however, I must now part, — with my knapsack
I never will ; for if a pillow of down should fail to put me to
rest, I'll try the virtue of my friendly knapsack, that hath
so often before extracted the ache from my throbbing temples,
and soothed me to sleep. — A steamer next day landed me at
the Tower.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

[The Author, haying lost, by accident, some small part of his Notes, has supplied the
deficiency in these few instances from Martyn and Vasi ; but requests to guard
*' m>m being considered as Touching for their accuracy.]

MARSEILLES.
Paintings, &c. in the Museum.

Although tliere are eighty-nine Paint-
iDgs of the French school here, few
are by masters of any great merit ;
among the best, I may note— •

Joseph recognised by his Brethren, by
Coypel.

A Storm, by Himry,a pupil of Vemet.

The Adoration of the Shepherds, Por-
trait of Ninon de I'Enclos, Portrait
of Madame de la Valli^re, — all by
Pierre Mifpurd.

The Coronation of the Virgin by the
in&nt Jesus, by Pierre ParroceL

St. Francis imploring God to put a
stop to the Plague of 1641, by
Ettenne ParroceL

Jesus with Martha and Mary, and a
Presentation at the Temple, by Le
Sueur.

No. 90 marks a krge Crucifix in ivory,
which finely depicts the agony of
suspension.

Italian School,

A Pieta sustained by Angels, by Cara-

vaggio.
The Building of the Ark, by Bat-

Charity, by Paul Verone$e,

A Village Marriage, and David with

the Head of Goliath, by Hannibal

Caraeci.
The Assumption of the Virgin, by Xu-

dovico Caracd. This painting is

placed on the ceiling.
St. Bruno, founder of the Order of the

Chartreux ; St. Anthelmo ; St. Ros-

solina ; St. Hugh (Hugo), bishop of

Lincoln,— all by Daniel,

The Guardian Angel, by Domenichino,
The Visit of Mary to Elizabeth ; the

Birth of the Saviour ; the Adoration

of the Magi ; the Presentation at the
- Temple, — all by Gemignam,
The Parting of Priam and Hector, by

Gutrdno.
Roman Charity, by Guido,
A Sibvl, by Uica Giordano,
God the rather, by Lan franco.
The Virgin and infont Jesus, by Carlo

Maratia,
The Family of the Holy Virgin, by

Pentgino,
Cavaliers, by Gni/io Romano,
A Hermit contemplating a Skull, by

Salvator Rom.
St. John writing the Apocalypse, by

Reqthael,
A Crucifixion, by Solimene.
The Magdalen Penitent, by Domeni-'

CAHIO.

The Virgin and Child ; unknown.

Flemiah Schotd.

A Landscape, by Breughel.

The Apotheosis of the Magdalen, by
Philippe de Champagne. This paint-
ing is also on the ceiling.

The Assumption of the Viigin, by the
same.

The Stoning of St. Paul, by Jean Bap^
tiile de Champagne,

Hercules between Virtue and Vice, by
Gaspard Crayer,

The Magdalen Dying, by Fimhomm,

The Miraculous Draught of Fishes, by
Jordaens.

£neas at Carthage, by Laireite,

3St

APPENDIX GEXOA.

A PtiL<ce on Death, by Quilltmct.

rortr.iitsofLouis XIII., Ann of Austria,
arid the issue ot'tliis alliance ; a Boar-
liunt ; tlie Adoration of tlie Shep-
herds ; the Fla'j:ellalion of Christ ;
his Uesurrection, — all by Rubens.

Kin.: David, by Stiihtrs.

A Thilosopher reading by Lamp-light,
bv Skaiktn.

Portrait of the Earl of Stafford, by J'un-

A Sea-piece, by Wi/minis.
In tht Ante-room.among the sculptures,
^t e two excellent bas-reliefs by Char-

dine: one representing a Group ot
Men and Women gathering Oliver ;
the other, Fishermen and their Wives,
with nets, fish, &c. : also a Votive
marble Tripod, a beautiful Grc-^k
Altar, the Tomb of Glaucias, be-
sides several ancient Christian Sar-
cophagi.
In the Bureau de Sdutc you see a bas-
relief of St. Charles Borromeo ar-
resting the Plague at Milan, by
Puget ; and a painting, by David, of
St. Rock praying to the Virgin to
put a stop to a Pestilence.

G E N O A.

Chirches.

In ilie Catliedral, observe the Chapel
of St. John the Baptist and the Sta-
tuary, and that of the Holy Sacra-
ment; the sculpture in the latter is
by a pupil ofCanova. In the Choir,
there is a bronze statue of the \'irgin
and Child ; and in niches in the sides,
fourcrand statues of the Evangelists,
by FrnncaviUu. There is also a paint-
ini: of tlio Crucifixion, by Baroccio.

The Church of St. Ambrogio contains
a superb Assumption, by Guide ;
a Circumci<!ion, by Rubens ; Saint
Francis Zavier preaching, by a pupil
of Ouido ; and an Infant Angel ap-
pt.iriui: to St. Ignatius, the founder
of the Order of the Jesuits, in
which RuUus lu\s introduced por-
traits of himself and his wife.

In tilt Cluirch oi tlie Annunziata, you
>^i a Last Suj'per, by Procaccino ; a

Paintings in th

A Madonna and Child, and a Holy

l\\'ni!\ . by Vivuiyck.
Portrait of Anna BuUon, by the younger

A Nativity, by Titian.

A Sat\r and Ikicchante, by Castii:liimt.

Aviam and Eve. by PriWurcino.

The Ptirifaction of Phmeus by Per-

scv.s. bv Liica Oiorduno.
St. C aihorine. a Head of our Saviour,

and ih.o Madonna, bv Carlo Dolce.

Crucifixion, by Seotlo; a Flight into
Egypt, and St. Francis in Ecstasy.
Observe, also, the frescos on the
ceiling.

In the Church of St. Stephano alle
Porte, you find the celebrated Mar-
tyrdom of St. Stephen, by the united
pencils of Raphael and Giulio Ro-
mano.

The Church of St. Francesco di Paolo
contains an Adoration of the Shep-
herds, and an Annunciation, by Cam-
biaso ; and an Ascension and others,
by Pa^i.

There is a St. Sebastian, by Titian, in
the sacristy of S. M. del Castello;
and in the Church of S. M. in Canu'-
nano, you see a Martyrdom, by CorA>
JMaratta ; and St. Peter and St. John
curing the Lame, by Dominico
Puola.

T. Palazzo Reale.

Peter's Denial, by Caravafmio.
TIh^ Deluije, by Jacobo Btissano.
St. John the Baptist, by 11 Calahreu\
The Story of Olindo and Sophronia, by

J.uca Giordano.
In the Chapel of the palace you see

Christ bearing his Cross, by Titian ;

but the most noted painting of all

in this collection, is a Noli me tan-

gcre, by Paul Veronese.

Paintings in the Di razzo Palace.

A Tribute-Money, by Giiereino.
PAx»a. In i>i.r'\tvo. An Infant asleep; Cleopatra dissolr-

Al'ia^-r.n a);d the Ancils, by Casftf/o. wg the Pearl; a Vestal Virgin; and

\ \ ; iilit mio F4;vpi. bv ]\i Pes<tro. the Grecian Daughter, — ailbyOf/'<A».

l\^7\"u. by G.'uio

APPENDIX — GENOA — THE PALACES.

385

A Naiad asleep, in landscape scenery,
by Michael Angela,

Portraits of Rubens and bis Wife,
attended by a Baccbanal; the Mar-
riage of St. Catherine ; and Judith
with the Head of Holofernes, — all
by Paul Veronese.

A Noli me tangere, by Titian.

A Flagellation, by Ludovico Caracci.

St. Peler, by Han. Caracci.

The Death of Seneca, by Luca Giordano.

Joseph's bloody Garment, by Carlo
Lota.

Portrait of Philip the Fourth of Spain,
and another of Himself, by Rubens.

Portrait of Vandyck, by himself.

The ceiling of the Second Room is
ornamented with a fresco painting of

Apollo and the Muses, by Piola. On
the ceiling of the Drawing-Room
you see a representation of Vulcan
delivering the Armour of Achilles to
Thetis, by JBofit. The paintings are
by FranceschirUf Zanotti, Boni, and
others.
In another apartment you find some
Portraits of the Dunizzo Family, by
Vandyck; Christ appearing to the
Virgin after his Resurrection, a St.
Sebastian, and the Death of Adonis,
by Domenichino ; Democritus and
Heraclitus, by SpagnoUtto. The
fresco on the ceiling is by Piola,
and represents the Imprisonment of
Mars in tlie Temple or Janus.

Paimting3 in the Brignole Palace.

AVTE-ROOM.

An Allegorical subject, by Dominico
Piola.

FIRST ROOM.

A Female of the Family Brignole on
borseback ; Portraits ; Christ bear-
ing his Cross, — all by Vandyck.

SECOND ROOM.

An Annunciation, by Lud. Caracci.
A Praesepe, by Paul Veronese.
Cbrist and the Money-changers in the

Temple ; Death of Cato, — by Guer-

cino.
Christ raising Lazarus, by Caravaggio.
St. Sebastian, by Guido.

THIRD ROOM.

The Evangelist St. Mark, by Guido.
Adoration of the Magi, by the elder

Palma.
Vulcan's Forge, by Bassano.

Madonna, Infant Jesus, and St. John,

by Guercino.
St. Peter repentant, by Lanfranco.
Daedalus and Icarus, by Andrea Sacchi.

FOURTH ROOM.

Judith with the Head of Holofernes,

by Paul Veronese.
St. John the Baptist, by Da Vinci.
A Tribute-Money, by Vandyck,
St. Rock, by Domenichino.
An Annunciation, by Paul Veronese.

FIFTH ROOM.

An Assumption, by Corregio.

Jesus and St. Veronica, by Antonio

Caracci.
Christ in the Garden, by Carlo Dolce,
A Noli me tangere, and the Car of

Cupid, by Albani,
Several other apartments also contain

paintings.

The Pasqua Palace contains several
excellent paintings : as, Cupids
dancing, and the Hours, by Ra-
phael; two Pietas, one by Kubens,
the other by Sebastian del Piombo ;
Bacchus and Ariadne, by the latter ;
a Holy Family, by Da Vinci; Jug-
glers, by Caravaggio ; and Portraits
by Titian and Vmidyck.

In the Spionola there is a Nurse and
Child, by Han. Caracci; a Flight
into £gypt, and a Magdalen, by
Guido ; a Nativity, by Schidone ; a
Holy Family, by Albani; a Pieta,

and tbe Archangel Gabriel, by Carlo
Maratta ; the Woman of Samaria,
by Luca Giordano ; and a copy of
the Transfiguiation, attributed to one
of the Caracci.

The Pallaviciki Palace contains,
among many fine paintings by Va>^
dycky Albania SpagnoUtto^ Schidone,
Strozzi, Caitiglione, and others, Ka-
phaeVs celebrated Madonna del Co-
lonna, and Rubens s Silenus.

In the DoRiA there is a beautiful fresco
of Jupiter and the Titans, by Ra-
phael's pupil, Pierimo del Vaga,

D D

386 APPENDIX — LITCA — PISA — THE CATHEDRAL,

LICCA.

TlIF. Cathidr

X'irijin, C'liil<l, and four Saiiils, by

(thirhnuidUK
\ Muiii, C'liiKl, lliree Anucls, and two

Saints, l)V Ira Hdi'tif/onii/mK
A IU>uri(»t.'iion, by 0'///VA'//<M»f Lucca.
An Annunciation, l>v Lnuiunlo da Pis-

("hnsl between the Thieves, by l\is-

Tlu.' Last Sn|:>pcr, by 'i'lntonttn.

An Ail(uatu)n of the Maiii, bv /•'. Zuc~

A N.itiMlv, nioonbulit, bv rus^iniiuno,

St. (Jeorm', liv lirmizino.

Till' Ibrtli ol lla- \ nuni, by PaL'i:/.

A \ iMt.ttion, by Jji:i>::i.

An A«^Mnn))tion, by Si)/i da Siena.

St. I'etronilla, ascribed to Daniel da

I'idtt rra.
St. Maitni dividing his Cloak, by

Siai:li<i.

Ai. (3/ar////j.)

A Presentation, by Ah as. Bronzirjo.
Tlie .hub^ment of Solonrion, lulaid i:i

tlie rioor.
The \ olio Santo, or Wooden Cnicinx,

bei:un by i^icodtnius^ and hnislie-i

]>y angels.

In tlie ( iiL'ucii oy the ArM«»Tf>s
you sec tlie miraculous iiuaue ul the
\'ir'j,in, and the I)escensu> A\eria,
and an Annunciation, by J'anni.

I'AlA/.zo rriUKO. (Marff^n.)
Hercules and Onjphale, by Luea Utor'

dantK
A i>;jnker settling his Accounts, by

A Hurt Durer.
Tiie Woman of Samaria, by Gutrcino ;

and aCoiicert, by Titian.

In the Cm RCii or tmf Domixican
Convent there is a fine Assumption,
by Fra hartolommco.

Paintinos in the Royal Palace.

A Madonna, by Raphael.

A Crucifixion, by M. Anptlo.

A Head, by Corn gin.

Christ healing the Sick, by Agostino

Caracci.
Christ before Pilate, by Delia Nottej^c.

PISA.

Paintings, &:c. in the Cathedral

I.tl T AJSl E.

The ^lartyrdom of a Saint by three

M(»or>, bv litnreuuti.
St. l-r.incis explanniig the Doctrines of

Christianitv, by Paitiii.
St. \ incciit de Paul, the fomuhr of

Poinidliiig llospiials, by (irdndo/fi.
The Pniilinu ofliie Head ot' St. ,Inlin,

bv Ctntmli. — ()l)Scive two an.:els of

ineffable beauty in the sky.
The Attributes of the Divmity, by Sa-

liniheni.
The Holv Ghost descending on a Saint

habited in Armour, embracing the

bamier of the Knights of ALdta, by

PasiiinantK — A jnunting remarkable

for lis bold relief.

1 Ll r I KANSri»T.

The five following are by Aulirio
Lonii: — Christ healing the Bbnd;
Christ disputini,' in the Temple; the
Adoration of the Shepherds ; the

Adoration of the Maiji ; the Pre-

s( ntation at the Temple.
The Tomb of Cardinal Scipio, adorned

with two tine statues of Faith iuid

Charity.
Not tar from thi>, on one of the pillars

which supj)ori the dome, see a ^L\-

doima and infant Jesus, of the school

of Kaphael.

THE ( iioin.

The " Lux Mnndi," in gold mosaic,
bv (iaddo C'laddi.

Two large frescos, by Pit tro Sorri. In
the one representing the Consecra-
tion of the Cathedral, the mimerous
figures are grouped without confu-
sion, and the entire subject abounds
ni beauties.

Ciider these are four Saints, by Andrea
dt I S^irto.

Abraham and the Angels at Supper,
bv (ihii landaio.

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE OALLERT.

387

Moses and the Serpent, by Rminardi,
Moses striking the Rock in the Desert,

by Lommi,
The same subject, by Ventura SalimbenL
Judith with the Ilead of Holophemes,

by Oitavlo VanninL
Abraham 's Sacrifice, by ilaxzi. This was

returned from Paris at the Restoration.
Moses descending from Mount Sinai,

by Beccqfumi.
Noah sacrificing on leaving the Ark,

by Soliani.

RIGHT TRANSEPT.

The Birth of the Virgin, by the Che-
valier Curadi,

Christ administering the Sacrament to
St. Peter, a fresco, by Tempesti.

A Cnicifixion, by Ghilherti.

This transept is enriched with a charm-
ing Virgin and Child, seated on an
altar, with the Baptist and St. George
on either side, and two female saints
who kneel, bv Pierino del Vaga, a
pupil of Raphael. Here you like-
wise see the Conversion of St. Ra-

nieri, by Benedetto Nuti; hisCuring
the Sick on his return from the Holy
Land, by Muratori; and his Death^
by Milani, The large sarcophagus
on the altar contains this patron-
saint's body.

RIGHT AISLE.

Over the altar of the Souls in Purga-
tory you see a beautiful painting
illustrative of the subject, out dis-
figured by crowns of silver, by Do-
menico Lorri.

Near to this is a fine bas-relief of God
the Father recalling to life and re-
surrection his beloved Son. — His
uplifted hand declares the fiat of
Omnipotence.

Doctors transcribing the Scriptures
from a volume upheld by an Angel,
by Vanni.

Tlie Procession oftheHost,byTeinpes/i.

St. John the Baptist presenting a Cross
to the Infant Jesus, with St. Jerome
and St. Francis in the foreground,
by Del Sarto.

Campo Santo.

The frescos which adorn the interior
are forty-one in number, painted by
some of the oldest masters of the
Florentine school. The history of
Job, in six compartments, are by
Giotto ; the Assumption of the Vir-
gin, by Simon Memmi ; the last Judg-
ment, and the Triumphs of Death,
are by Andrea Orcagna. Tliat re-
presenting Dante's Inferno is by his
brother Bernardo, All those on the
side opposite the door of entrance,
excepting the four first, are by £t-
noMzo Gotzoliy and represent sub-
jects from the history of the Old
Testament, from the creation to the
time of Solomon. — Remark the mag-

nificent ancient sarcophagi, Etrus-
can, Greek, and Roman. The frescos
which ornament the western end are
by the master of Michael Angelo.
At the opposite end you find the
principal chapel, which contains a
Crucifixion, painted on leather, by
Appolhnia Greco, in a.d. 1200,
before painting in oil was discovered.
Among the sculpture, note a Head
of Agrippa in nero antico ; a bust
of Hadrian in high preservation ; a
charming head of Venus, of Greek
workmanship ; and a miniature por-
trait of Michael Angelo, by himself —
you find it close to the entrance.

FLORENCE.

Catalogue of the most remarkable Busts, Statues, and Paintings

IN THE Gallery.

Wolf-dogs ; Heads of Jupiter and
Vesta.

STATUARY IN THE TRIBUNE.

VESTIBULE.

Busts of all the Medici.

ANTE-ROOM.

Statues of Augustus, Trajan, and Ha-
drian ; a glorious Apollo ; a Horse,
(thought to belong to the Niobe
group) ; a Wild Boar, behind which
are two beautiful female busts ; two

The Venus ; the Flayer of Marsyas ;
the Dancing Faun; the Lottatori;
and the ApoUino.

PAINTINGS IN THE TRIBUNE.

St. John the Baptist ; Portrait of his

AFIrM :X — FliKENCE THE GALLERY.

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lir>ly Kaindy, In lyo^lictl/i (this
artist died in li:*?;; l'haut\, by
('iCiliimt Sn!<-t.Ji ; an oval j>aintiii'«\
hv tlu' ■jricei.il prMicil of A^'A//"/;
St. Irani i<, by ( liitili ; a ALi»;dab^n ;
ti ( rnc i.'ixion, bv I.orrnzit IJ/i/n ;
\ vuxi'i 1- ^ifi^ ('n|)i(l, bv (/imanhi
da Sdff Oioiiinni ; the Hilda! Nii^bt,

and a Mother suckling her Child, by

l"".r S.iT.e.

A M-".':r\. <_>:" r.r.f.' aii^nal propor*'r^''<,
i- M'-^s^nj.rof Hca\cn; Cup:<i lie-
:\ .: z til- ( M.ds-

L 'M'. (AIIFR'^, Cpf'i.iSlte to that Vj

Tw . -'a'-irs o( .Mari:\n^. bound to a
trTt. ar.d rr-ad) to be rlavt-il. .\t the
';::'r •-r. i uMt.e (.i.dle^v you ><-f
••- (.-'.-> < f ].>rnal Mrvp, l >ti-
•-:/>'. '• '/.'"> Havul ai.'i Si .b-bn

/-' ; A i'^ Co; ) in rnarble f^^t V.;^
_'. ■.;■ .f :..i; b.i<x.> ni and .Uu7.fr/

i \[N T INJ." IN lilt'* G AI I.tRY.

S..- .1!. ( )ld .Man askin'.: Alm^, by
L '.> . ; ii.d c'b>t.rve li»e nch and
t.r.iri dr,>.jr.>, p<»rtriit"«, and ara-
lt^(j'.e uina'Utrit^, wh.cli ei"nl)cllisli
tilt (t\< ;t and ccii.n^.

> lOfV IIOOM.

r »- a .if^cTi'j ';on of the croup whicli
irur.i r. i'!.».- to tins room, st'e the
t»-\T. T:.o paintm-^s are :

A Iv> f-lniir, bv S'iijiitt.<.

A l»>it;li'-['>'C« , b\ iitii'tn.^.

Tilt? Truinip^ial Kntry of Henr>' I\'.

n. /b of A rl, b\ i'lir/it hHti.

T.-e Fibril. nt'-it Utr, and two others, by

Ht.;e aUo ob-^erve a fine semi-colossal
In]-*! of Juno, and a Dying Alex-
ander.

p. i:<iN7r r.ooMs.
\st. — .hh'ni Jt Ih'loijnd's celebrated

Ml rtniv.
A Star .e of X'nlcan, Canli(pie).
A \ tio;-, (on the corrt-'pondini: pe-

dt >l d .
Cupid m I\'tters.
A sMi.dl H«T( nb's, drnnk.
A small Anal«'niical Statue, exinbitin^

the exttrn.il laver ot muscles, bv

( iL'i^fl.

'2f/. — A ClnmcnK

Stiitnr of an Orator.

Ib.'ads of llonuT and Minerva, found
in thf sea ii» ai" J.« ^horn.

In a n.inH)\v e(irn(h)r otl* the Loxr.
^.vI^.^u^ oppos.tc the Tnbune, see
a Hu-it of Alaehi<i\el, executed in
1 'll>."» ; soNeral by Liua <A Id Rol'ltia ;
and, in partieul.jr, a uioup of Clio-
ii>l(r>, b\ the .>aiht' a^tl^l.

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE GALLERY.

389

An unfinished Madonna and Childy by

Michael Angelo,
A Holy Family, by Rouellino.
A Group, by Andrea del Verrocchio.
Several specimens of good composition,

by Benedetto da Rovexzano, (a.d.

1515).
In the Room containing the Etruscan

Vases, see a striking statue of the

Genius of Death.

Florentine School*

FIRST ROOM.

The Infant Jesus asleep on a Cross, by

Cristofano Allori.
Judith with the Head of Holofemes,

by the same.
The well-known Magdalen of this artist.
St. Francis, by his bnither Alexander.

St. Peter and St. , by Dolce,

St. John the' Baptist, (as a boy seated,}

by Fontebuoni.
St. Francis, (small,) by Cigoli.
Head of Medusa, by Da Vinci, in his

usual striking and peculiar manner.

Snakes form the hair of the head, in

the tangles of which toads are seen

crawling about.
St. Cecilia, by Dalle's soft enamel

pencil.
Two small things, from the voluptuous

pencil of Zuccheri.

SECONO BOOM.

The Last Judgment, by Angelo Allori,

(11 Bronzino.)
Mary*s Visit to Elizabeth, by Alberte-

nelli,
Joseph and Potiphar*s Wife, by Bi7/i-

verti.
The Martyrdom of a Female, by Cigoli,
St. Sebastian, by Razzi.
The Good Samaritan.
A Portrait of Himself, by Del Sarto,
An Altar-piece, (en camaieu^ by Fra

Bartolommeo.

Lombardo- Venetian School,

Massacre of the Innocents, by Douo

DoMsti.
A Sibyl, by Guido.
An ^gis, by Caravaggio,
Cupids shooting at a Heart placed

against a tree, whilst Venus directs

the sport, by the lovely pencil of

Albani.
Angels ministering to the Saviour in

the Flight.
Abraham's Sacrifice, by Ligozzi,
The Angel releasing St. Peter from

Prison, by Albani,

The Stoiy of Toby, by Fagim,
Diana and her Nymphs, by Solkneney

in his highest finish.
The Rape of Dejanira (fine), by Luca

Giordano,
A Coronet of Cupids dancing, by Albani,
Europa, by the same. Mounted on
the back of the bull, and preceded by
an eagle in the air, the love-sick fair
traveraes the waves, surrounded by
smiling Cupids, that seem like so
many rose-buds tacked on the hem
of her robe.
A Virgin and Child, (small, but ex-
ceeding fine,) by Han. Caracd,
A small Landscape, by Salvator Bosa,
Several Cabinet Pictures, by Allori,

In the Room Aojoining — Portraits of
Alfieri and the Countess of Albany,
by Fabre,

Theseus raising the Stone in search of
the Sword, by Nicolas Poutwi,

A fine Claude,

Venetian School,

Christ's Entrance into Jerusalem, by

Tintoretto.
A Last Supper, by Bonifacio,
A fine Portrait, by 11 Padovanino.
Another, by Del Piombo,
Dogs, by basMono.
Venus lamenting over the dead Body

of Adonis, by Bonvicino.
The Conversion of St. Paul, by Por-

dinone,
A Holy Family, by the elder Palma,
The Marriage in Cana, by Tintoretto^

(remarkable for its fine perspective.)

PAINTINGS IN THE ROOM WHERE THS
BEAUTIFUL INLAin TABLES ARE.

The celebrated Mater Pietatis of Somw-

ferrati.
A fine Head, by Francesco Francia,
Faith ; Portrait of a Female holding a

Crucifix in her hand ; the Virgin

appearing to St. Anthony, — all by

Carlo Dolce,
The Redeemer, surrounded by young

Angels, who present him with the

emblems of his life and passion, by

Albani.
A fine Portrait, by Hannibal Caracci,
A Monkey pediculating a Man, by the

same. — Both seem to enioy the

amusement ; one the feast, the other

the extermination.
Dido on the Funeral Pile, by Testa.
Two Tribute- Monies; one by Cara^

vaggio, the other by U Cappudno.

V
• 9

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f '- * • ',

~ V. •• I 'It \ ' • ','. .\ - ."••■!• .'"•- ■ ... I'' .•■.-. .r^.. ' .

f:i« . ' s . • . ■ s. • .- ^,r: .- _ : ♦ ^r:. ".: t - :.:• - .;' -^ -rr ^*_' i

•ill [»< 'F ff III''- 'i! *»,' .1 '■- •;• i,-^" I.n/..i_

Afi ■• !■« •• K Miiiiij.'r . i _•■ .'v t— .. ' ■ . 1 : 1 ■ ' r:

»i(i\.t, /nil. (Ill, .iiitl J'.'. •»'cu:rL. Zt"^.:t .'■ ■':•.■ .: • . r r'-

V i_'« I If III till. Ill r.n»- •■ . ■•' I*-. a: ./ . d 1*

|li( I III in.iptiliMlitr, .iimI ir. •'«: 't'l'' *^.;"i:!»- .

• ■I'M n f I NMiH-il> \(iM- \\u\M If,': \ .,L I l".)!' .1 w" ? .

Mi.-.v .1'. Ko "f, oil »lii< li !•• r<T.:'.- s'" ,\

r»/. . I.:

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1.- .,v • i >.::

:•:.

. 1

l\ ": Pi I'Mn, Di i»i( Ai 10 lo S. M -.:.: & ; 1 1 i . i,i.

I' ^ » In.u h i> /r> . \\l iiiiu ilinr nuvrs, Tli'r O'T.J-''-'^ ."' itt r: - "* L' i "'

^\ . . Ii I'iir,' liiluilio olilll (>(t«»- lljf- f :_"'.'. '•I'. I.- V- . ,^ - -

.. I ! («'i III i«»i ir>|MHul,r.i( li iiK.JUfl- lijiir*.— ::. !».-'r.: :. *l '** ■ r i '. *.

"I- ti I « li.ipfU. r»-' !<--'• r.'.r _' '.^^ i ■•^^ — --■ - l' 1

I ' • MiMi II 'I'lciiit M. oli«.»TVf' S';i- A-^.».f Si',!., .ir<r '" •. L. :.■ . J. .■ • ^

i' t .« I ,Vanj«ll^l-, I'V Donillt //(i^ Tl.'; |) J.ri*ir._'> <_>* •.'.■i _""■:■_: _ -•- -Tr

t. i;« I .ir«- :i J ..i^i .Suppc-r, hv Tl.'r ha>»- rt.l.t:f-« cr. Vt -;_*«t : "' f -.

^1 ■ ' -.'i-ii I'.'illiu I I ; ill*' J)l-CIJ>lf-"» coliiTnu'j (ji '].(: c^:.-' '•■■r " k I*^' :.-

:'. i .. ...J K.-, ifi'l lln- Mis-irni of the in III liii'i (h'V.'w :;..'•:«--.

A. • »'!• -. *.v lit f ntirdino i'inntti. T\\ti Crufitix at t:.* r.-iil ;- ::- :* ' .-

I .« *'..i\.A »•> toiiMM.iNil to St. /a- is l)v lit ntd( tto 'US M .-. , i- i : -

, \ji-\.''\> «'t I Inriiicc, ;iii(] liis llircc StatiK .s <<\»zT *'.e i.".-' • i-., -

1- •' •'• jr'-»r\»fl uiidtr flir altar ilifnUi. Jrnrned;'it- 1\ '• r. .: : :' >,

: "-rit. Ijhi[i/i- Nai( njilianiis mh' an iiiituij'.ii«-fi P.-*:.. ;:. :^ir:.-..

••- .-.».'■ »!i-lii|., i»\ (tliihtrti. I)y Michael Aniztlo.

•' - • *'••• inl.tith- nt the Holy ( )ii llu' pillar^ of the trib.rr^, i". : : ?:

-V ■•--• t'l* liinii/r tl«)or of till' walls of tile u.T\e>, ^-^-i '^:\*:-:'i .:'

*•••'•'•. *''i "^♦■« it ;» luihiir, the Apostles, Ml Tiicho. T -'. :' ^:.

,j, i :> n R'll'ifi. .'amcs is by >V///.sf'ri/io ; Si. Mi*: is,

-.ji ••♦c., ^*- Aii'jf.ls with ft's- l>v i^Ci"; St. AndrtiW, hv fV—-- -

-. . ..h.f,fi.UJ/<>, and the Fiat St. Tiionia*^, by i^ocri ; St. Jc-i.r i*c

. .^.- :..:■: 1 pr'.H]i-y in archi- KvanjL,M-iist, by Rovezzaw^ a'.d 5r.

Jariies the Less, by (iioratini Czi*.'

.".•^•^ :•. '"♦j;'^ ^Qi? it is Optra.

w ...V. •- ^ j|. ^. Crosx, The mosaic over the front entrance is

- : •...»: i-*r i^ Ap.^Lin- by (/(/(/(/o Ga(y(/z,' and the six Stamps

- ■ t -. i-..: .•' Ai-.'ri- ort pede^^tals are models bv tiie tol-

i... : "1 -•.^"•juii I'lwirvj- celel)rated seuljttors :

St. .Mmialo and St. Arit"mno, bv />w

... «

.^- • N , .^*' n :''< tr;»? rfnzi.

- ^. , .V -. r*. <_-.» >h St. /anc»bi and St. I'odio, bv Fran-

... ■..' '..^ -•:; rv- ctiriila.

N ''/'/-v S'- St. Andrea Corsini, by J/iA)»/c) (/' ^-1/1-

.--' x'«.v 11 L I'.a, TiiUdi : and

• • St. ( iro. (TiiaU'erto, by (r/<». C'tnT/w*.

i -'run. (.Ker the side dc.M.ir, tow.ird> [liv C am-

-». - '.i.Muit pr-el' I. s^e the .MartNuiom of St.

^'•. •■-. . >>i'n [xeparara. b\ Rusiiiinnio : and over

K , f- - t v" d»Kir op; osite, t[;e C'ouncd of

." • , V 4.***/ ».. b'.oance, by B<itn>fii I*Oi:<^i.

APPENDIX — FLORENCE THE CHURCHES.

391

Baptistery of St. Johm.

Over the principal entrance, ob-
serve three Statues in marble, two
of which, representing the Baptism
of Christ, were begun by Sansovino,
and finished by Virtcenzio Danti ;
that of the Angel is by Spinazzi.

Over the door opposite the Bigallo,
see the Decollation of St. John the
Baptist in bronze, also by Danti,

Over that facing the column of St.
Zanobi, the three bronze Statues of
St. John disputing with a Pharisee
and a Doctor of the Law, are by
Rustici.

The Twelve Apostles, in the interior, are
by Ammannato, excepting St. Simon,
which was broken by accident, and
replaced by Spinazzi.

See under the arch of the tribune, and
over the grand altar, a Statue re-

S resenting the Apotheosis of St.
ohn, surrounded by a glory of
angels, by Ticciati ; also the presby-
tery before the altar, rich in fine
marbles, and adorned with bas-re-
lief, by the same artist.
lo the TRIBUNE is the symbol of the
Saviour, with the following inscrip-
tion in letters of gold :

" Hie Deus ett magnut mitit quern
denotat Agnus; *

around which are the figures of

Moses, the four greater prophets,
and the three patriarchs, Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob.

The Mosaic Dome is by Gaddo Gaddi,
and represents the Last Judgment,
the principal events in the life of
the Baptist, the mysteries of the
Redeemer, the history of Joseph and
his Brethren, &c.

The marble Statue of St. John is by
Piamontiai,

Opposite the baptismal font, observe
the Tomb of Baldassar Coscia, who,
under the name of John XXII.,
died at Florence in 1418: it is by
DonaUllo.

The Statue in wood of the Magdalen
Penitent is also by Donatello,

On leaving the Baptistery, visit the
Bigallo opposite. This establish-
ment is for the reception and care of
orphans and children abandoned by
their parents.

On the facade are two ancient frescos
of St. reter the Martyr preaching,
and his delivering the Standard of
the Faith to Twelve Nobles. Observe
the paintings in the interior, by the
sons of Ghirlandaio and the scho-
lars of Giotto : also a Holy Virgin
and Infant Jesus^ in marble, by
Andrea Pisano,

Church of Sam Lorenzo.

paintings.

The Ut to the fight, the Visitation of
St. Elizabeth, by Veracini.

2d. The Marriage of the Virgin, by
Le Rous,

3d. Si, l^urence, by Niccolo Las$i,

4th, An Assumption of the Virgin, un-
known.

5th, A Crucifixion, with St. Francis^
St. Jerome, and the Magdalen, by
Dandini,

6th. St. Jerome in the Desert, by the
Chev. Nasini,

Passing the naves, in the first chapel of
the Cross, St. Creche, by Coiimo
RotseUi,

In the Capella de* Principi you see
the Tombs of Julian de Medicis,
duke of Nemours and brother of
Leo X., and of Lorenzo, duke of
U rhino. On the tomb of the first ob-
serve the Statues of Day and Night,

and, in a niche above, the statue of
Julian. On that of Lorenzo, oppo-
site, those of Twilight and Dawn,
with his statue above; all by the
chisel of the modem Pygmalion,
Michael Angelo,

Here also b a statue of the Virgin by.
this great artist, between two saints,
Cosmo and Damiano, the one by
Montonoli, the other by Raphael
da Montelupo,

Next visit the magnificent chapel erected
by order of the grand duke Ferdi-
nand I., and designed and modelled
by Prince Don Juan^ assisted by the
architect Matteo Nigetti,

Re-entering the body of the church,
observe in the second chapel (in
continuation) the Adoration of the
Magi, by Girolamo Macchietti,

Next the grand altar, on which stands
the inimitable Crucifix, by John dc

390

APPENDIX FLORENCE

THE DUOMO.

The new-born *' Sacrifice for Sin" in
the Manger, by Jhllti Notte.

Two ROOMS or PORTRAITS paintcd by
the artists llieniselves. Among the
crowd of celtjl)rate(l painters, note
the portraits of Sir Josima Reynolds,
Aii'^L'lica Kanrtman, Harlow, Ca-
riova, /otVani, and the beautiful
\ jjTt-e le IJrun. In one room lies
the lIerinaj>hrodite, and in the other
observe a superb vase from the \ ilia
Medici at Home, on which is repre-
setitcd, in bas-relief, the Sacrifice of
Iphigenia.

The DroMO, dedicated

This church is divided into three naves,
to which three tnbinics of an octo-
edrJcidform correspond, each inciud-
inu five chapels.

In the Mmnir Tniiii ne observe Sta-
tues oftlie Evai»gebsts,])y Donattlloy
in the four lateral chapels. In the
centre chapel are a Last Supper, by
Giovanni HalJucci ; the Disciples
at lumnaus, aiid the iVlission of the
Apostles, by Bernardino Poccttfi.

This cha|)el is consecrated to St. Za-
nobi, bishop of Florence, and his
asiies are preserved under the altar
in a inagniticent bronze sarcophagus
of rich workmanship, by (thibcrti.

In passing to the tribune of the Holy
Cross, observe the bronze door of
the sacristy, and over it a lunette,
by Lvca dt/la liohhia.

In the sacristy, see Angels with fes-
toons, by Dovntillo, and the Flat
Arch, deemed a prodigy in archi-
tecture.

The altar of the cross contains (as it is
said) a large piece of the Holy Cross,
and in this tribune are an Annun-
ciation, by Zucc/icri, and an Adora-
tion of the Magi by an unknown
hand.

Observe the Iina'jje of St. Joseph in the
chapel of this saint, by Ijyrenzo di
Crcdi ; two lateral paintings repre-
senting his Agony, by Marco So-
derini ; and the Slarriage in Cana,
by Giovanni Ftrrtfti.

Here also observe Joscanillis Meridian.

On the waiN of the opposite tribune
you see two pamtings ; one, a Hirth
of Christ, hy Pagnni ; the other, the\'i-
sit of Mary to Elizabeth, by Naldini.

Paint in ij;s which were being ofied in

diflWent parts of tin Oalltrv.
Flora, by Titian; a Madonna and

Child, by Car to Ci^nani.
Among the Etruscan va^es stands tie
statue of the (ienius of Death,

J^or. r, I A D E ' L A N z I.
Donattilo\s ./udiih ; Cellini si Perseus;

:\ui\ John dc Bolo<:nus Rape of the

Sabines.
In front of the F^aea/zo \rfcnioyou

sec M, Aitiielo\s Da^id, and h-indi-

rie/li\s Hercules and Cacus, andhu

TVeptune.

to S. Mahia del FlOIlE.

Tlie ornaments of the gallerj' and of
the organ above, as well as the
fiunires in terra cotta over the door,
r<r[>re.'.entini; the Kesurreciion aiid
Ascension, arc bv Luca della liobhia.

The paintings of the trreat dome are
bv Vassari and Zucchcn.

The" bas-reliefs on the base of the
columns of the choir are by -««««-
wc/Z/and Giovanni deli' Opera.

The Crucifix at the head of the choir
is by Bemdttto da il/^//V/wo;and the
three Statues over the altar by Ban-
dtneUi. Immediately behmd this,
see an untiinshed Tieia in marble;
bv Ulichael Amselo.

On 'the pillars of the tribunes, and on
the walls of the naves, see Statues 0'
the Apostles, in mches. That of M.
James is bv ^Sansorino ; St. Mathias,
bv Rozzi; St. Andrew, bv Ferrucct;
St. Thon.as, by RcKzi ; St. John ^C
Evangelist, by Hovezzano, a'?^ ?f;
James the Less, bv Giovanni deli
Opera.

The mosaic over the front entrance U
by GaddoGaddi; and the six Statu^
on pedestals are models hy the fol-
lowing celebrated sculptors:

St. Miniato and St. AuUmwo,^}'^
renzi.

St. Zauobi and St. Todio, by »««"
cavil la.

St, Andrea Corsini, by Antonio d' Af^'
nibale .-and

St. (ieo. (iuallierto, l^y GiiK Cuccint.

Over tlie side door, tow;jrds the C'an^*
]>mella, see the .M.irtyrdom of S^*
i^eparata, bv l^asinnano ; and over
the door opposite, the Coinicil oi
Florence, by Battista Pon^i.

AypENrmc

Fl^OliZvJS :^L -^L5i :l^^v

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p *^

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r-TTTt~ tn< Hanrtsn

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-tfv 3fc i: •• w- ^- is^ -> ----T

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then norenu.
On tlH- VkCAth. aPT m»» ajictrni n<^\M,
OJ St. I'eMT iht- Aiamn )mw*^huu,.
■nd his dehvmn? iJw Stiuuianl ui
theFaitii u^l'welvt N.Uiit*^ l>h«sr^v
tiu^ paminij^ m uh uutiim,h\ iix
•cms ot dhirtanuau* min\ Un •* lu*.
kis of ^TtnfM: ahK. n iJoiv \ uoui
and Inknt Jeau, w luarhit., *i>v
AmBbta Vttanu.

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of

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and. III a thc\h above . tUi tidiiir ni
Juiuii. (It that 01 lu)rtu*xi» .H„u^

«tfc, thou- of iHlli-lil oiw, j,,.^,,

Willi hi* stdiut aiM>v( nl |>^ |j„
cfiiseJ 01 tiH moutn, l*syiu.iuu,

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vuirtniuaiifii ^p .v,.^. . .

tut miiiiitrft**' « "^

vV^-"

V

392

APPENMX — PL- P.FNCE — THE CHIRCHES.

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: ( .

X T".

F.P

. j-t'.r

i ^.

- _-'. !"

.1

• -.

1:

'■. ' i

r ».

_ ^ ^-

l.v .

: -\'. ^

« F

r.? ^.

r- • --^

• . ,^ -T

I:. -•..-'

o:

■!•' or. \ <>•; <r»r
L-i:re:.c>. . bv

Mtr>ri>n;
I'a-*. the >.de->^i'-x>r. a St. >«Lld<t.iii. bv

T:.-: r'r\*. i^.i^-e! contains an Ii.T'' of
t - I - . : . - \.vn ; l' ^ ci.e a*t- r, i \v: v

L-; ■ \r:. -.-.A otv-r s.i.rts : a lu i-.-i
t -: M'.rt. rior; of St. Arta-ii,.* .. -i
y -^ C . r... .».:.. r-r.N, by S-jh^iui. A'- '-:
t.. i '.j.>:. oi.>fr\tr >e\eral sniall b-t
r.:j ..y c^^'i'T'^.r i pa.i:itin::5, bv K-.<.--
i-> . r^. Ar.i listly. you >etr the ("o?:-
v-r>.:r. ct' St. >iatthew, by Puf^j
.If .-;'r > 1..
Ke:.. ;:k. f v two pulpits in the mi-:':!-;
! "iX-. t'.r >:ie-i ofv^hich are a'lon.ei
v^.th ":...i--rel;c;t< iii bi'onze, renresrrit-
1! J the M\>!f':c< ot'the Pass;-.»n, :lu<]
t\- (t1::v of the lU-decmer, bv />»-

A >ta:rLa>e \vid< from the church up
t-: the BibhottC-i Meiiicto-Lauren-
z.:».!.i. — rich in r.-.anuscnpts in t}'.^
T;:>cin, IItb>t-\v, (rrtrrk, Lir.Tj.
lMne^e, Ar.ibic. Clialdtan, Syrnt.
>L.il\oiiic, lVo\encaI, aijd accitiit
rrench, lan.'uajcs.

PviNTi-Nt <, \r. IN 111.: Cm Fa H or Santa CnocE.

C)b<'^r\e 1 -i^tat-.-.e 'u\ bronzo, over tht-
\ :<h'.'p of T- :l.":>e, by D,> ;-./t//.>.

I i:i-T CHAFF I to thf ri^ht.
T. V De-cent from the C ro>s. bv Sii-

■> T I O N r> C H \ P i I .

A Cruc.nx...L, by S.nti lii Tito.

.\r\t cun.t-> tbc l\.nib (y\ M chavl An-
gtl<.>. Tilt- statr.t rtprtit-nni]^ Sculp-
tu re i> \ ty / 'u '? /-/, . ( ";. ./< ; i ; i a t of A re 1 1 1 -
tt-Lture, by C^jvanrn a\/!'()-t m ; aiul
tile statiio c.f ra.utinj, by BtJtL>.fa
dtl i'lirdiitu .

The \"ir:;in in bas-rehef over the bcni-
lier IS by Rr:>tf(!ni.

THIRD CHAl'EL.

Chn<t bearing hi> Cross to .Mount
Calvarv, bv I'uMiri.

FOl KTH CHAFF L.

An Kcce Homo, by /)</ 3ff -/;,).
Next comes the Mausoleum' of Altieri,
by tlie cliiNvl o\ C(iiiov<i.

FIFTH CH \I'Fl .

The FKuellation of Christ, bv AUs-

Next to this IS t!ic Tomb of Machiavel.

sculpture! bv X\'7, ::.-/.
A painting by '.-Iv,;^,,. Jt,' Mi-^a fo\-

l')vv>, repre^entinj Christ prayin-^ in
the (iar-ien.

In iVleCllMML OF Tfl F. Ca V A l.CA NTI

F\Miiv,see a Statue of the Holy
X'lriiin.by 1),.///;,%//,.. The St.Franci^
aiul St. John, Viy the >ide, are b_\

Pa>t the door of tiie cloister vc>u come
to the tomb o( the hi>toriaii lininu
executed bv Rosstllino, one of Do-
natello'> pupils. The \ ir<^ui above
i*^ by Andrtii VernKchiOy the m.i>ltT
of Da \ luci.

1 i»e Sfv» NTH Cii WW. contains a fine
panitmj:, be.:un by CiLioli, and fin-
is he<l by Hi/iurti. The sub.ect is
C hri>i's Entry into .1eru>alem.

I n t h e B A n B t n i N I C H a v i. l — S t . Fnn-

cis receiving the StVirtTiata, bv Ar;/-
...

ilini.

The next i^ the Castfi.lani Ciiapfl,
tlie ce'l ng of wluch wa'-i painted by
Sturnina; and llie altar-piece, repre«
seiitm J the La^t Supper, is attributed
to ] asari, or his school. Observe,
alxo, >ome ierr:i-cotla works, bv Luca
dilUi Kohlna ; and the Tomb of Skot-
mki, by Ricci.

Afterwards, the Baroncflm Ciiapfl.
The ancient painiinsrs on the walls
are by laJiUo Gaddi ; and the

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE CHURCHES.

393

Cofonatioo of the Vii^g^in, orer the
altar, is ao esteemed painting of
Giotto^s,

Id the Sacristy, observe the Holy
Virgin, and Four Saints, over the
altar, by Taddeo Gaddi ; as likewise
are the paintings on the walls.

The Medici Chapel, or of the Novi-
ziato. — The altar-piece is by FUippo
L^pi ; the architecture of the chapel
by Mkhelozzo.

I^eaving tbe Sacristy, observe the
•econd, or Riccardi Cuap£L. St.
Lawrence distributing Alms, is by
Fatngnsno ; St. Helen (over the
altar) is by BUiverti; and St. Francis
in Prayer, by Matteo Rottelli. The
frescos, representing the Life of tbe
Apostle St. Andrew, and those on
the ceiling, are by Giovttnni da San
Giavamu,

In the Chapel of St. Francis, see
tbe Portrait of the Saint, by Cima-
bue.

On the walls of the choir, the Discovery
of the Cross, by Agnolo Gaddi.

In the next five chapels, you see
paintings by Giotto^ Giottino, and
Gaddi.

You now come to the magnificent
Chapel of the Niccolini. The
statues of Moses and Aaron, and of
Chastity, Prudence, and Humility,
are by Francavilla, Tlie Assump-
tion and Coronation of the Virgin,
are both by Alexander Allori ; and
tbe frescos on the cupola, as also the
Four Sibyls, are by the beautiful and
correct pencil of Volterrano,

Orer tbe altar in the chapel which next
follows, you see the celebrated Cru-
cifix by ikmatello.

In tbe next, or Chapel of the Sal-
VI ATI, observe tbe superb painting
of the Martyrdom of St. Laurence,
by Ligozzi.

Returning by the side nave, see a Re-
presentation of the Holy Trinity, by
Cigoli ; the Coming of the Holy
Ghost, by Vtuari,

Passing the side-door, observe under
the organ the Chapel of the Con-
ception, painted by Giotto,

Next, the Ascension of Jesus Christ,
by Stradano. The Scepticism of St.
Thomas, by Vasari. Christ dis-
covering Himself to his Disciples at
the Supper of Emmaus, and his
Glorious Resurrection, by Santi di
Tito (both fine).

You now arrive at the Tomb of the
immortal Galileo, designed by Fog-
gini. The statue of Astronomy is
by his son Vincenzio ; that of Geo-
metry, by Ticciati.

Next follows a painting of Jesus taken
from the Cross to the Tomb, by
NaUiini.

On each side of the principal entrance
there is a Descent from the Cross ;
and in the Convent adjoining, the
visitor will find several ancient and
esteemed paintings by Cimahue and
Giotto.

In the Piazza Santa Croce, observe
the fresco paintings on the fii^ade
of the house of the late head pro-
fessor of the Academy of Desien,
painted, in 1619, bv the most dis-
tinguished artists of the day, among
whom were Passignano, San Gio^
vannif RoiselU, Vanninif Ferrucci^
&c. It was finished in twenty-seven
days.

Church of S. Maria Novella.

Over the middle door on entering, see
a Crucifixion, by Giotto.

Turning to the right —

Iff. Chapel . An Anounciation,by &in/<

di Tito.
Sif. St. Laurence, by Macchietti.
3d. A Nativity, by tbe graceful pencil

of Naldini.
4tk. The Purification, by the same.
5ik. A Descent, by the same.
6tk. Resurrection of Lazarus, by Tito.
7tk. St. Raymond bringing a Child

again to Life, by Ugoxsi.

In turning into the Transept, observe
tlie Tomb of Joseph, Patriarch of
Constantinople. Mount the stairs
to the right, and in the chapel ob-
serve a fine painting representing a
miracle of the Holy Virgin, by
Bugiardinif in which several of the
figures were designed by Michael
Angela and II Iriboio. Here, also,
is the Jirtt work that came from
Cim<d>ue*i easel — it is a Madonna.

Nextyin the Chapel of St.Domiiiick,
see a painting by Vignali, and a
Pieta by Velio. The two Urge side

B B

:i\)i

APPENDIX — I'LORENCE THE CHURCHES.

|>aiiitiii(_''N ;irt' by .S/if/f .</</;// T fine) atid
(//«'. I'i>inr/ii.

In llic ;nl)t'iiiinu Cu mm i , >< v St. Jolt ii
till' l'",\ iiiiU'li^^Mai'^in'j, Di' siiiialrHMii
the Dtad ; and l!;«' A (»siK' I'liilii)
(Aorci'^iiiu the Idol of ilu'CJod INIar.s,
ill iVoLo, liy /■'////'/'(' Lijijii.

Tlic \ ivuiii I HI iiiarl»l(' j lu-liind the altar
i> I'V lu mdtthi dii M<,jitin> ; and the
iiiic ]>.iniluius in tlir ehor, irpre-
Miiliiij, on one vide llu- late of the
\ iijm, and on the odier that of
St. Jul'ii the llajtli>t, aie hy Cihir-
lii iidiSh' .

The ji.iintin'js on th«' si(le<< o'' the ehoii,
\% hu h ie[)!e>ent the IveMirieclion of'
('hii>t,a;e l>y Bt /h <h ffif,\Uv. nephew
ol ( diniand.no.

iM.tui ^ n the 1 eantilid inaiMe eolnnin^^,
on ihe lii'jh allar, ohsi-rw an A>^ninj)-
tion, hy Sal'aft lit.

In the ehapri in the ht'l, *^ee the Cnici-
fi\" ill wood, earved hy llnmt Ut -scu^
(»n {\\v. oecaNinn ol \\\> famous dis-
jaite with DoiKjiello.

In the ne\t,\ou find a >n])erl) |taintiiiL:
re|iie>( nlni'^ (diriNt ieNtoiin'4 to Life
the I ).iiiuiiter of the Arelnsy nauo-jns,
h\ Ji.'7/eA) /^/•i»//:<//e,wh<)aUo painted
tlu^ eeilmu-.

^ on now asee?id In steps to a chapel
panit«(l in iVr-eo, hy tlu; hrotheis
Ainhi ir .\\u\ ll( nun t{ ihcd^iKi : oin*
lepitvi iiiiii^ l*aia'!ise ; aniMJier 1 1»-1L
J he .\ltar-pieee is al-n hy Amlnw.

Tn lln' S \( m > n , see the ("oiiNer-^uju
of St. Paul, 1)V N< /'(/,N//^///n (A/ I trtuia,
a jiiipil of l*anl \ croiHse. Tlie \\.i\)-
tisni <»f' Christ, 1)\ Strti(/(i>io ; his
( I iieili\ion, 1»\ I usd/ i : ui\d St. \'in-
(tnt resiorui'j a Dead Man, hy 7A///-

Tlie two jtaintin'^"? ni segments are h\
liiinti/i ; and tlu,- Crueilix, hy .17^/-

StH'Cfd.

Itelnrninu to the na\e, oi)serve —
St. livacinth, hy ^llt la/nh/- Allori.

The Benitier of granite, in llie corner,
is hy ^lichdi/ An^tlo.

In the seeoiul (. hapel — St. Cathent e,
in relief, by Aflicciufi ; aiul the sin il!
]>aintin;4s, \)y VtKcdti. St. P» ter '.he
Marts r is by daolt, and aDolher \\
Kfi/pti/i.

Next, a Resurrection, and a Mador.na.
by t'ftsuri. By the side of this, ^^-e
( hrist at the Well, by ^Ut.to/iutr
Allien.

At tlie end of the riavo you ti'iJ lue
Kieci C'lia|)cl, in which the St. Ca-
tl urine is by RomnmlU.

And, l.i>ilv, St, \ iiicenl preaclnnz, bv
l)t/ Mtiilio.

(^nittni'4 tin- church, and cntenn.: the
Ol II iiCLornLU of the convent, ob-
serve the frescos paint('d by (><«//.»
and Wf>><7' l)t//o. Here you find
the Sjianish Chapel, the walls and
eedinu of which were p.iinted by
^liuniii and Ttuhito GruUii. The
panilini: represeTitin'4 St .lames the
Apostle, is V)y Hronzum ; and iho
M.irble (ruciti.x, by Pi.nitit. Ol>-
serve, likewise, the |)ortrait of Cima-
biie, in a white dress ; and, clo^e
to this, the ]H)rirait of Memnii, by
himself.

In the second, or Innfii ('i.oistep., wc
lintl liltv lunettes, representin::: the
Life <d"St. Doinmick, that of Tlionias
A<piinas, St. Catherine of Siena, and
otiiir>, whicb embody the pencd> c)f
S((iilt (/I I'ifOj PiHCittiy Ci^oii^ the
Allot i^ ]ht/(/inci^ Soilt/ini^ ^C.

In the Kirraror.v, see the Rain of
Manna in the ^^ ilderne^s, by Alrr.
Alliui; and a Last Supper, by bis
brother Aiiiii lo.

On havin.: the Convent, observe, in the
l'i\//A S. M. Noviijo, two Pyra-
muU sU)»ported on the backs of four
tortoises, m bronze, by John ik Bo-
lt >is nit.

Cm lu H or 1 III S. S. An m n/i \i v.

In the Cm. \ I'll oi Si . Smia^i i an, be-
lonuai'4 to the Pucci family, see St.
Sibasfian, by Pi>ll(ij(tlo ; and two
others, by AuviTio Lonii and Pdisiii.
The Triliune was painted by Voc-
iifti, and the Statn(.'S a'e hy the
chi>»el of Aor* ///,

In the Sm \i I Coi ui, observe a Nati-
vity III In SCO, to the left t)f the door
which leads into the church, by Ihd-

dmintfd; to the left of which you
ser the \ ision of St. Philip Beiiizi,
by Citsimo Rosstlli. The others
which immediately follow, are by
</< / .Sf///(>, ami a liust of this artist,
b\ ('ficctni. The paintings represent
the principal trails m the life of St.
Philip. The lunette by the side of
the entrance to the court, represent-
ing the Marriaj^e of the Mrgiii, is by

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE CHURCHES.

395

Franciabigio ; the Visit of Mary to
Elizabeth, by Pontormo ; and her
Assumption, by Rotto,

Od entering the Church, observe the
magnificent Chapel of thr An-
NUNCfATioN, and the small Ora-
tory off it.

Next to this is the Chapel Feroni,
designed by Foggini^ lined with
marble, and ornamented with sta-
tues. The altar-piece, representing
the Agony of St. Joseph, is by Carlo
Lotti ; the two Statues of Meditation
and Maritime Fortune, are by Pia-
moniini; those of Fidelity and Na-
vigation, are by Andreoxti; the St.
Dominick is by Carlo MarceUini;
the St. Francis, by Cateni.

In the 2(2, the Universal Judgment,
by Alex. Aliori,

3d. A Crucifixion — a chef-d^auore of
Stradano^i.

Ath, The paintings are by Perugino,

5th. An Assumption, with St. James
and St. Rock below, by Dandim.

In the Chapel, as you turn into the left
transept of the cross, observe the
Lunettes and Ceiling, in fresco, by
¥ranet$chim (Volterrano) ; and over
the altar, St. Zenobi, and two others
(ancient).

The next Chapel is that of the Cru-
cifix. The Paintings and Archi-
tecture are by Chaman of Lorraine ;
the ceiling was painted by Meucci,
Under the altar lies the body of St.
Florence the martyr.

In the Taddei Chapel — an Altar-
piece, by Franceschini, and tl)e fres-
cos by Ulivelii,

In the Great Tribune, over the Itt
altar, the Birth of the Virgin, by
Alex. AUori. The side paintine in
Comu Epistols is by his sou Crit-
tofano, and the three others by Pat-
ilgrumo ; the ceiling by Poccetti.

2d, Chapel. St. Michael, by Pignoni,

3d, The Virgin and Saints, by Pent-
mo,

4M. The Resurrection, by Angiolo
Bmmzino,

Sik, See the bronze ba»-reliefs, by John
de Bologna; and the Grand Cruci-
fix, after a model by the same. The
painting representing the Resurrec-
tion is by Ligozzi; the Pieta, by
Patiignano : ai.d a Nativity by

Paggi. The frescos in the cupola
are by Poccetti,

6th, A painting representing several of
the Blessed in Paradise, is by Nan-
netti,

7th. The Blind Man receiving his
Sight, by Passignatto,

8M. The Marriage of St. Catherine,
by Biliverti.

9th. The Virgin and Infant Jesus, with
St. Ann, by Donnini; as are also
St. Philip Benizi, and St. Julian
Falconieri.

The Dome of the Grand Tribune
was painted by Volterrano at a very
advanced age.

On a level with the Presbytery, seethe
Tomb and Statue of the Bishop A.
M. Medici, by Da San Galio,

At the top of the Cross vou find the
Chapel of the Holy Conception.
The Altar-piece is by Meucci, as also
the Ceiling. The two Laterals are
by Grifoni,

In a Chapel to the right, see the St.
Barbara, also by Grifoni; and two
Portraits— one of Stradano, the other
of Lorenzo Palmieri.

Opposite is the Chapel of the sculp-
tor Bandinelli. Tlie Dead Chnst
supported by Nicodemus, is the work
of this artist; and the flead of Nico-
demus represents his own portrait.

Leaving the Cross, and returning to-
ward^ the door, observe a small
chapel under the organ, designed by
Silvani, The altar-piece of Christ
Risen again, is by Puglieschi; as
also the figures of two Prophets.
Observe a St. Rock in linden wood,
carved by Matter Jann, and some
fine sculpture in marble.

In the next, Jesus healing the Wound
of St. Laziosi, by Vlivelli,

3d. Frescos, by the same.

4th. The Martyrdom of St. Lucy, by
Vignali; the Cupola is by VoU
terrano,

5th. St. Piccolomini, by Dandini.

6th. A Virgin and Child, St. Nicholas,
and other Saints, by Empoli ; the
frescos on the walls are by Matteo
Roixelli.
Convent of the Sf.rvi* adjoining.

See an altar-piece of the Trinity in the
Chapel of the Academy of Design,
by Bronzino, St. Luke painting the

* So called from their enrolling themselves tervanti of the Virgin.

SDG

APPENDIX ILORENCE THE Ml'SELM.

Poitnit. fifths,- \"irj:ii, i-^ l»v r^/^^rj ;

iJFid tli<- !>i.ll<llt,_- u! Sol. )I1, <•[!'>■ r«;'ii-

|)1", hv S tJi ih Ti^'i. 'I\.f- T.\f-l\o
S!;it'i<^s \\ l,i( !i >urr().,ri'l this r!it;el
nr>' l.\ <ii\Lr> ^kiih.l '•c; '[)''.ir> oi i:,t-
A« adf inv.

'rh(r ( 'i oi-i I v-'^ of tiie Convent com liri
the c<;hbr-it(-il Miiiici.r.a drl S.<< (.n.
li\ ill I Siiilo. '\\\ki uliic;" lr''>.fyi^ are
l)y I'l'Cttd, Mdttn) l\<>s.:rlli, atl'J
and / f iitnrii Suhmln m.

Tlio t u'(> ija\ r-< wliicli make an arul'f wit!)
(I»| .Sarto's M,i'!'>nr.a, vm-m.- painted
by Pocit til, •A\\i[ H':.r*'Mrit the prin-
cipal «j\cilt.s 111 tlie li\».S fit the ^« ^eii
nol;lt; found' r> of the ()idi'i" nf ih«'
Sei V I ; anion'j' ^^ll;(•h, <( e the Blessed
Arnadeiis, one of the seven, if^Nloniej;
Jidousned child t(; life; Manetttis,
\\i his oKi aje, resi.nui'j the hi-
slidpiicfjl 1 loicnce to IMnhp Henizi,
hetore retirinu^ to Monte ."^anaiio ;
Saitf'uno ]»r(;achin2 ihr- (iospel at
Pans, in the. time \)^ Kinir Philip,
A.n. 1'^>G1»: the Death of Alc-so
Palconien {\\*'\\ the AP<idoi>na) ; the
S(;\(Mi Ponnders taking lAave of tlxi
WOrld ift ui^<' thfiDM'lves up to the
Ser\i<(- r.f the \ irjm ; the Seven in
the leil'it ^)\ [l(i"ijiits: remark the
I eiM.t.fu! i^ro 'p m the ^kies, of
laith, iloj)e,and ("liarilv ; the Seven

bud'iinj their ftrnt dwelline in tfie
de-ert <.f Monte S^inario ; the \ ir::tn
(h!.^e.:n.' the B! ick nre-^^;. to the
to'indrr> of" her senai.ts."
T'le fres<:..»«. hy S-Jrnht ni dre —
Tiie Holy \ ir-jir in a Car, drawn bv \
lion and a laml>: Philip B^-nizt ctuitd
by a \ ision of the \ iPiiin to assunie
the iiabit of i)}e Servi ; the htnhJiu^
of ttie Church of the Anuutizia'a ;
Clement 1\'. eranim-^ llie tirsl J;i-
dulc'^nte to thi> Church.
Tin >e by M (fro Roi'itl/i are —
St. Mai.titus pre<ichiPix beiore St.
P<iui> ; In'Kueni 1\ . appomiine ii.s
nephew, Caiibnal Pie>;co, Protector
of tne Ordrr ot iheSen'i ; Alexander
I\ .according to the Order the power
of establisiuni: Convents in all parts
of the world ; St. H<.>ntigliuoIo re-
nouneinLT, in favour of Sl Buona-
uiunio, the L'ovcrnnienl of the OnJer.
Keinark also the fre>co coramernoratint:
the Mirack* of the painter Barto-
lonimeo and the Ansxel wVio timshtd
the portrait of the \ ir^iu.
In the HiJ M ToKV, see the SupY>er of
the Pharisie, a fresco, by Sinti di

TftiK

In the ( 1 vriJ»KN, you see the Parable of
the \ nie\ard, bv Audna cUl Sarto.

Cut urn oi S. Maria NfnvA.

There are four Altar-pieces.

l.s/ to the ri'^iit — The \ iiu'in uivin<; the

Infant Jesus to St. Anthony, St.

i'raneis and St. Nicol.is present, by

i'ir/i( n III.
The next is by PdiJiJ^i.

\st to tlu' h.ft reprcM ntsan event in the
life of St. ],ouis, by loltcndint.

111. The Descent iioni the (,ross, by
Mil. AKon.

There are .six paintin'json the walls, viz.

llie Martyrdom of St. liarbara, bv /.//-
(/itrico Vmti.

The Ma^^dalen l\ iiiteiit, by Amlnn
lUl (Hs/fia^iKt. The infant angels
[)resent are stipposed to be the por-
traits of the Portmuri fatndv.

The \ irgin and Infant Jesus, witli St.
A^nes, St. Rosa, and St. Cecilia, by
A/t.i. AUori.

Cnder the urand altar, St. Ejjido, by
(ji/i/iiDiani.

The Pluhl into Egypt, by Veneziauo ;
and, histlv,

'I'he Assumption of die \'irgin, by Em-
poll.

At the entrance which leads into tbe
court and upper apartments, see ^\
Tabernacle, in fresco, representitii^
( harily, by San Gi(H'(inni ; and to
the left hand, a Last Judumeiit, be-
yan by ]h'//a Porta, dud t'lnijshed by
AlbtrtimUi.

Mrsro dTsioima Natikaik.

Hie first seven rooms contain the cele- chiedy of the Abdominal Viscera and

bn\tetl wax anatomical prtp.nations, liratn.

executed principally by the arti^t '2d. The centre of this room is occupied

Su.'^hiii >'i the follouiiii; order: — by a full-lein;lh recumbent statue of

\st UooM. — IVeparations consisting the Blood-vessels and J^ymphatics, as

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE MUSEUM.

397

they appc^ on the iotegumeDts being
removed. Around are seen different
sections of the brain, and expositions
of the internal anatomy of the eye
and ear.

Zd, The Nervous System, commencing
with models of the nerves supplying
the eye, ear, throat, face, ana neck ;
the distribution of the great sympa-
thetic and its multitudinous connex-
ions, and of the accessory nerve.
The central statue represents the
superficial veins and lymphatics of
the head and extremities, and an in-
ternal view of those of the thorax
and abdomen.

Atk, Nerves which descend from the
head and neck to the thorax; the
intercostal nerves; beautiful repre-
sentations of the nerves of the upper
and lower extremities, and or the
pelvis. In the centre lies a statue,
with fine exhibitions of the arteries,
veins, and lymphatics of the head
and extremities, and of the interior
of the chest and abdomen.

5tk, Nerves of the Viscera : a repre-
sentation of the spinal chord ; of the
blood-vessels and nerves of the neck,
chest, abdomen, and pelvis, in rela-
tive position. The central statue ex-
emplifies the entire venous system.

6M. Nerves of the Upper Extremity in
their relative situation : a beautiful
exhibition of the same, divested of
the surrounding soft parts, horn the
brachial plexus down to the extre-
oiitiesi of the fingei-s, with nothing
el«e save the bones beneath ; nerves
of the lower extremity similarly re-
presented ; a fine exposition of the
fifth pair, and of the nerves supply-
ing the eye. In the centre is a statue
of the whole of the arterial system ;
behind which stands the chef-d'auvre
of ;$(ttiRi, displaying, with the most
admirable exactitude and distinctness
in all their details, the whole nervous,
arterial, and venous systems, with
the muscles and viscera so separated
from each otlier, as to allow the eye
to combine their relative position and
distribution.

7M. Various models of Comparative
Anatomy : preparations of the head
of the dog, cat, goat, calf, and turkey ;
the anatomy of the leech displayed ;
of the cock and lien ; of the ovaria
of the last, and the neighbouring

vessels and nerves ; a beautifiil re-
presentation shewing the course of
the egg in the oviduct, and various
preparations demonstrating the dif-
ferent stages of incubation ; anatomy
of the male and female seppia; of
the silk-worm and other insects ; of
the head of the viper ; of the snail ;
and, Ustly, a beautiful illustration of
the principal viscera and blood-ves-
sels of the cod-fish.

8M. This apartment is appropriated to
specimens in Ornithology^ but con-
tains nothing very curious or rare.

9M. Ichthyology. — Observe a Scymnus
spinosus ; a Chrysostoses Luna, or
cardinal fish ; a Squalus Americanus;
a Ilolocentrus Gigas ; and a prepa-
ration of that shapeless monster of the
deep, the Orthagoriscus Mola.

\Oth. Reptilet, — liemark a very large
scutum of the Testudo coriacea.

1 1 th. Moths and Butterfliei. — Among
the latter there are some of great
beauty; as, the Papilio Midamus,
Menelaus, Ulysses, and Leilus.

12M. Testaceous and other IMolluscse.

13M. Conchoiogy. — The collection is
indifferent, as a great many of the
specimens are dead shells. Observe
some large PennsB Nobiles. On the
table which stands in the centre of
the room, remark a beautiful bou-
quet, composed of various coloured
shells; also some fine pieces of the
sea-net, (the Serpula Filograna of
Linnaeus).

14M. Madrepores, Millepores, and
Zoophytes.

15M. Seeds and specimens of different
woods.

16M. Plants in flower, modelled in
wax, chiefly exotic; many among
which are extremely well executed ;
in particular, the Isis Susiana, Port-
landia nitida, Stapelia hirsuta, and
Cactus mamillaris.

17M. Same continued. — Observe the
Musa coccinea and Cactus triangu-
laris.

On the central table are four singularly
contorted branches of the Sorbus
monstrosus.

18M. Here you come to the Minerals,
beginning with the metals. I'he only
thing remarkable is tlie table of Flo-
rentine marble which stands in the
centre of this room.

1 9th. The Metals continued. — Observe

398

APPENDIX FLORENCE THE PALACE PITTL

a I'.irze crystalline mnss ofsilicious
in»ii (^rt', from Hio della Marina
(I'.licaj, and some larc^e and hand-
sonic spfH nncns of thu indiscent iron
OK', also from lllba.

*20/A. The sinie contnincd.

•J Is/. Here are several pretty dendritic
spec linens of the I'loreiitine marl,
and sonn' has-relief medallions from
tht' baths of ."Nan I- ilippi ; also several
laruo and lino specimens of arra-
i;onite.

'J2r/, .Minerals continned. — Observe
sonit! Iapj;e cry>tallise<l native alum,
from Monle Kotondo.

'J.'f/. Contains tlie more precious mi-
nt rals. ( )bs»'rve some beautiful
<lia'>pres, i".i>yptian jaspers and hya-
line tpiart/. ; also the petrihcl trunk
of a tree in silex, and two tables of
leat beautv, e\<inj>itelv inlaid with

'n^

jaspairates, camelians, lipis lazuli,
anri riband-jasper.

24M. Lavas, scoria;, and oih-ervo'caT. c
productions; also a small c'.»l.*rr..vD
of geologic^al specimens-

2.5/^. ()rj;anic remains.

2o/A. A small collecticri ofsiva^eoT-
naments and weapons.

From this you erjter a small C^bimt,
where you find the extraordinary nic-
tures in wax of Zuii)Ik>'s sepulc.Trji
imagination.

Tliere is another Si ite or R-'oys,
which contains mmlels in wi\ re pre-
sent in<r every muscle s+-pdratc)y, witii
its origin and insertion ; and a line
collection of wax p re f.«a rations, which
demonstnite the ditierent ^^tai^res of
l^regnancy, from the foetus, tiU'^n
days old from conceptioD, tiii the i'l;.'!
period of gestation.

l\\INriNOS ANO SlAlTARY IN THE pALACE PiTTI.

This ]>alare i^ one of the largest and
most ni.iie>tic in Italy. It was
beiiun alter the (h\simi of Hnnu/-
/♦s((». as till- residence of l.uca l*itti,
a riorenime i^entleman (hence its
name) ; and was afterwards con-
si(leral»l\ eidirued by Cosmo the
SiMMid, imdtM' the superintendence
of tile aielnteet ^i//////^/////'//i'. It is of
tlu' pun- l".trusean,or rustic order.

( )n momitiii.: the staircase, you enter
an anie-rooin, in wlmh is a hue
heroie statue of Augustus, ami o])po-
posit(,ihat of a capliv».> Dacian king,
lien, aK<^, IS a st.itue of Minerva,
but It wants dignity.

In the [)oud«ur of the (irand Duciiess,
yt)U see (V/z/div/'s \ iMius.

r.xiNriNos IN mi iiksi room (o
thi- ridit.
Two liolieinians telling a Countryman

his Fortune, by i'(irn\uii:i:^'u).
Two fine Marine \ iev\s, by Salvdtor

Hosn.
The Hirth of Love, beautifully painted

by Tl/iforctto.
Adam and I'.ve, two separate paintings,

by J Hurt ])iinr.
The Call of St. Peter, by Cip>lL
Two small Fids.
Figures and Game, by Giovanni da S.

(ii(H'(inni.
The Triumph of David, by ]\lattco

Hossclli.

The \irixin and Saints, by Bti S*\ru^.
Aj»ollo tran)pling Marsyas undtr his
feet, l)y Cniercino.

SI COND ROOM.

A Holy Family, by GinVio Romntw.

The \ irgin and Child, by Munili.

A tine Hronzino.

A 1 bacchante, by Guido,

A Descent, by Cii^oli,

Portrait of Rembrandt when young, by

himself.
Tiie Dead Body of the Saviour in a

winding sheet, in landscape scenery,

by i)t / .SV/;7(>.
St. Sebastian, by Gutrcijio.
The \ irgin. Infant Jesus, St. John, and

St. Ann, by Del Sarto,
Anotlter X'lrgin and Chihl,by Murif/o,
A l'ieta,by Fm Barfo/omnno.
St. iMulij» kneeling before the Virgin

and Child .lesus, by Carlo Marat/a.
Christ at llmmaus,by Pahna il J'ccchto,

niiun KooM.
'J*he celebrated Madonna della Seg-

giola, by Rnphncl.
An I'.cce Homo, by Ciiioli.
Portrait of Leo X. by Hf/()harl.
St. Mark, by Fni Barto/>nnmi'o.
Portrait of Cardinal Heuti\oglio, by

Vondf/ik.
The Madonna dTrnpegnato, by Ra^

phtul.
Abraham's Sacrifice, by Ci^oH.
St. Peter, by Carlo Dolce.

APPENDIX — FLORENCE — THE CORSINI PALACE. 899

£Z

Judith, by Crisiofano Allusimo.
A Holy Family, by Angela AUori.
Tlie Magdalen Penitent, by Caniacci,
Jacob and Rebecca (unfinished), by

Guido.
An Assumption of the Virgin, by Giar-

dano.
St. Sebastian, by Guido*
A Holy Family, by Carlo Socci,

FOURTH ROOM.

Two Battle-pieces, by Borgognone.

A ditto, by Salvator Rota.

Mars quitting Venus, by B,uhens.

The Fates, in chiaro-scuro, by Michael
Angela.

A Pieta, and a Birth, by Parmegiano.

A large Bacchanal Landscape, by Ru-
hem.

The Conjuration of Catiline, by Sal-
vator Ro$a.

JVIartyidom of St. Bartholomew, by
Spagnoletto.

A Holy Family, and Venus retaining

Mars (fine), l^ Rubens.
Cupid staying his Mother.

FIFTn ROOM.

A Pieta, by Perugino.

A Virgin and Child, and the Vision of

Ezekiel, by Raphael.
A Holy Family, by Carlo Dolce.
Cleopatra, by Gtado.
A copy on porcelain of Dolce't

" Poetry," which is in the Corsini

Palace.
Apollo and the Muses, by Giulio Ro-

nuino,
Adam mourning over the dead Body of

Abel, by Scludone.
The Saviour, by Bartolammeo,
Martyrdom of Saint Agata, by Del

Piombo.

The ceilings of all the rooms were
painted by Pietro da Cortona.

The Bono LI Gardens are behind the
Pitti Palace, and are open to the
public on Thursdays and Sundays.
Here you see J(^n de Bologna*t
statues of Abundance and Ocean.

Paintings in the Corsini Palace.

This palace was built after designs by
SUvaniy and is of the Tuscan order.
You ascend to the first floor by two
staircases ; and where they unite,
you see the statue of Pope Corsini
(Clement XII.).

FIRST ROOM.

Two large paintings, by Pandolfo, re-
presenting the Siege of Barcelona.

Toby and the Fish, by Matteo RotellL

Two Battle-pieces, by Borgognone.

A fine interior, representing High Life
below Stairs, by Flamingo.

SECOND ROOM.

The Death of Priam (modem), by

Benvenuti,
Martyrdom of St. Andrew, and Christ

returning the Tribute -Money, by

Ribera^
Fortune seated on her Wheel, by

Michael Angela.
Charity, by Salviati.
Venus and Adonis, by Han. Caracci.
A Pieta, by CigoU,
An unfinished Portrait of Rembrandt,

by himself.

THIRD ROOM.

Venus and Cupids, in landscape

scenery, by A&ani.
Poetry, an Ecce, St. Sebastian, Hope,

Peace, St. Cecilia, St. Apollonia, —

all by Carlo Dolce.

FOURTH ROOM.

Lucretia, by Guido.

Virgin and Child, by Dolce.

Portrait of Pope Julius II., a cartoon,

by RaphatL
Two landscapes, and two Marine

Views, of great beauty, by Salvator

Rota.
St. Paul and St. Anthony, by Dolce.
Two Philosophers disputing, by ^fag-

noletto.
The Centaur Nessus and Dejanira, by

Furino.

Incantation, by Salvator Rota.

St. Jerome (a fine head), by Tinto-
retto.

A Venus, by Titian.

The Baptism of Christ, by Santi di
Tito.

400

APPKNDIX SIENA

ROMK.

SIEXA.

The Cathedral.

Tliis fine dothic church was beojun in
r284, by (jiiH/ifini da Pisa^ and
Hiiishcd l^v Ji:ostifH> and ^li:«<>/(»,
Sienf'>>t' nrcliitt cts, in 1333.

Remark the Historical KnuraviiTjs on
the pavements ; the Bronze Slatnary
on the li;'j,li idtar, by the pupils of
^lichael An^elo ; and an Assump-
tion brlnnd, by Ccsi.

In the (iiiGi CuArEE you see St. Je-
rome and a Mnudalen, V)y hcniini ;
a \ iMtation, by Ctir/n Mnrattii ; and
a Vli<j;ht into l-'riypt, in mosaic,
co])it d from the same ma>ter.

In the (' vM ir.A in 1(ai faili \ you find
the tine frescos (h.^si^ned 1)V Haphin /,
sixofwhuh were coloured l)y Pin-
turicclno, and llie seventh by Kitplnu I
him^rlf. Ht-re also you see the cele-
l)raled uroup of the (Iraces.

On the Tomb of Archl)ishop Picco-
luomini are tV^ures of two Au'^els
and Christ holdin<:j his Cross, bv
Michml Anm/o.

The ditlerent altars are adorned with
paintiiiLTs : that of the Marriiige of
St. Catherine is by Dmulini ; St.
1 Bernard preaching, by 11 Caffihrtw ;
tiie Conversion of St. Ansaro, by
J'a/nii ; and the Adoration of the
Miiui, by Putro Sorri.

Infore the enlriince nuo the Choir are
four huLM' fie»iCos by IDifurd Solim-
htiii; nnd m the Cn API i.oi Sr. John
ihrre is a statue of this saint by Do-
nuti'Uo.

The CiiiucH OF THE Dominicans is
remarkable for a very ancient picture
in wood, representing the \ in:;n
with the Infant Jesus in her arms,
by Outdo Sancsi ; it is dated 1*2*21,
and is in the \ enturini Chapel. —

Cm r.cH OF Saint Agostino. — ACru-
cifixion, by Pcrupino ; an Adoration
of the Magi, liy Razzi ; Christ bear-
ing his Cross, by Aitss. Casoiatii and
Sa/iinhtiii ; and Jesus, the Vinrin,
and Saints, by Carlo Marat ta, —
^lartun.

In the Chapei. of the Ho«pitai of
S. M. DELEA ScALA, obstrve a tine
fresco of the Pool of Betliesda, by
Sibastian Cone a.

The Sac urn IIoi >f or St. Catherine
is situated in tiie Costa de' Tiniori,
where, in her father's shop, now a
clia]>el, you see Christ's Visit to St.
Catherine, by Razzi, and her Death,
by Paccltunitti ; also, a paintinir
of St. Catherine curing one sick,
by I'anni ; another of her miracles,
by Bnonavcntuni ; and one which
re|)resents her receiving a Pi-e^ent
sent from Heaven at the hands of the
l^ope, by Conca.

KO.MK.

CuTRCH oi- St. PEirii .

Remark the magnificent double Co-
lonnade by Pirmni. within whieh
stands a handsome obelisk, lOS tVet
in height, includinu the pedestal.
Though Ivjvptum, it is wiiluMil hitio-
glyphics, and is the only one in IJoine
foiiiui entire ; on each ^kle o\ it is
a beautitul nt-dttiu.

In the l\iKiUv> vi>u see (i ..•.'.'.•'<
Mos.ne. e.illtd tlu' Nan leella ; aiul
in the l\\'inu-nt, a has uluf in
m.nble h\ /s • ::';., U'prT^t'nMiv;
('ini>t Cv^nun.uul;:-:; \\w\ u» ti evi hi,>
Vhvk

At one iiid of the Portico is an e<:|ues-
tnan statue of Constant ine the Great,
b\ Riinini ; and at the other, of
Charlemagne, by Coninci'/iiiu.

The four bron/e twistid columns which
susiaui the Baldacchino coverinir the
Altar and C on'eS'-ional of St. Peter,
are 122 Utt iii;:h. Tliey are made
of ("ojinilii in brass, and were taken
tioin tilt' Paniht on.

In iheiii; \M) Tkiiune you see the
Ciuiir i»f St. IVier. enclosed in gilt
bron/f, and supj>orted by the four
dottors oi ilie ci'.urch.

APPENDIX — ROME — ST. PETEM — THE VATICAN. 401

The Mosftics in this magnificent Basi-
lica are as follow : —

St. Peter, over the Porta Santa, is after
Ciro Ferri.

In the First Chapel to the right you
see M, Angelo*$ iamous Pieta, sculp-
tured when he was only twenty-five
years old.

The Mosaics of the Cupola are from
Pietro da Cortona and Ciro Ferris
and the Frescos by Lanfranc.

CHAPEL OF S. SEBASTIAN.

Cupola, from P. da Cortona ; Altar-
piece, tfie Martyrdom of St. Sebastian,
uom Domenichmo,

CHAPEL OF 8S. SACKAMENTO.

Cupola, from P. da Cortona.

The Cibario of lapis lazuli, by Bernini,

The paintinff representing the Trinity

is oy P. Ai Cortona.
St Maurice, by Bernini.

Mosaics.

The Communion of St. Jerome, from

Domenichino,
St. Basil, from Svhleyrat,
Saints Processus and Martinianus,from

Valeniin.
Hie Martyrdom of St. Erasmus, from

If. Pomrin.
La Navicella, firom Lanfranc.

The Archangel Michael, from Ouido.

St. Petronilla, from Guercino.

St. Peter raising Tabitha, from Flacido
Costanza.

The Cupola of the Clememtive Cha-
pel is from designs by Michael An-
gelOf and is covered with arabesques
and foliage in mosaic : the other
Mosaics are from RoncaiU. The
Altar-piece was painted by Andrea
Sacchi,

The celebrated Transfiguration, from
Rtwhael.

The Chapel of the Choir contains
an Assumption of the Virgin, fit>m
Ptetro Bianchi.

The Mosaics in the Chapel of the
Presentation are from designs by
Carlo Maratta. The Altar-piece is
by Bomanelli.

In the Baptistery, the Mosaic of St.
John baptising Christ, is from Carlo
Maratta; the two others are from
Passari and Procaccini.

Amonff the Mausoleums, remark that
of Paul III-, by Giacomo delta
Porta ; that of Gregory XIII., by
Camillo RuMconi; and those of Ur-
ban VIII., Alexander VII., and the
Countess Matilda, by Bernini. Note
also the fine statue of St. Andrew
bearing his Cross, by Francesco
Flamingo.

Paimtinos in the Gallery of toe Vatican.

ANTErROOM.

A Portrait of his late Majesty George
IV., presented to hb late Holiness
Pius VII., painted by Sir Thomas
Lawrence.

FIRST ROOM.

Two allegorical paintings (Virtues and

Mysteries), by Raphael.
A Portrait of a Doge, by Titian.
Christ, the Virgin and St. Catherine,

and the Tiburtine Sibyl, by Ga-

rofalo.

9CCONO ROOM.

The Transfiguration, by Raphael.^

A superb painting, by Titian^ of St.

Sebastian and others. No figure

can well be finer than that of St.

Sebastian.
The Communion of St. Jerome, by

jyomenichino.
Cows, by Paul Potter.

THIRD ROOM.

The D«id Body of Christ borne to the
Tomb in' the arms of St. Peter, by

Caravaggio. Full of varied expres-
sion and strong relief.
An Assumption of the Virgin, designed
by RaphaelydJid painted by his pupil
Giulio Romano.

FOURTH ROOM.

The Crucifixion of St. Peter, bv Guido.

The Birth of the Virgin, by Albani.

The Virgin and Child Jesus appear-
ing in the Sky to St. Francis and
another, by Guido.

St. Romualdo's Vision, by Andrea
Sacchi.

• FIFTH ROOM.

The Incredulity of St.Thomas, by Guer-
cino.

The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus, by N.
Poussin. Remark the fine trans-

Cncy in the distribution of the co-
ing, throwing a noon*tide effect
on the figures.
An Annunciation, by Barocdo.
The Martyrdom of Saints Processus and
Martinianus, by Valentin.

F P

402

APPENDIX

ROME THE VATICAN.

'^IXTIl ROOM.

A Mnjflalc'ii, by Gucrcino.

Tli»' -Madonna di I'oliuno, and her Co-
rf>nitinn, 1)V Rcjthm /,

Tlu- btaiitilul fiv>cos in KArn.vri.'s
Sir. \N/! reprc'strit tiic Haiile at ihe
Milviaii Hridue ; tlie sul)joct'< of
lUliodorus. Attila, aiul the Miracle
of the lioruo ; the Mir.icdc of li^e
Max at HoKena ; the Didiveraiice
of St. I*»i( r fn^m Prison; and the
School of Athens.

In the Pauline Chapel you see the

Crucitixion of St. Peter, and the
Conversion of St. Paul, — both by

In tlie Sintine is 3/. A)ii:rio's Last
Judijment ; and on the ceiling you see
a snbbnie figure of tiod the Paiiier ;
our Fir--:! Parents; and the Pn^pliels
and Sibyls, — also by J^lic/uul
Afiisilo,

St \i VARY IN Tiir Ml'Sfo Pio-Cllmentino.

IN Tiir. I.0N(. G\].i }:]\\,(i.< i/(fu t iitir.
No. IMl, Diana Tiiformis, scidpiurtd

out of unt' jiU't c nt inarblo.
No. "JH. A coU»-s.d h( ad of Ocoin,

which bad, prul)ably, served as an

(>ra<h>.
No. 4t)7. Statue of ;» Don.
No. -J'J4. Statut' of Tiberius (seated).
No. .")4 4. SiU'iius.
N<3. .'xVJ. Ihist of Augustus.
No. .')M0. A Mercury.
No. (iHl, llyjcia, holding her symbol

in her left hand.
No. G.'<5. A crouching Venus (ex-

irenudy tine).
No. 700. A fine Head of Antoninus.
No. i\V,H. Siatiie of \'<'iuis(drape(l from

tlie l(>in^ tlounvvards;.

Passing onward, you see, in tlic Square
\ i.sjim I I , the iiandsome Doric Sar-
cophagus of (V»/;/( ////N >'(//)/<', an<l the
celtlMated Bthic/tn Torst>. After-
wards, in their appropriate Cabinets :

The Apollo Ik'lvidere.

Tile (iroup of the Laocoon.

The two .Meba^ers.

Pcrstus, and the Two Wrestlers, botli
by Cd/fora.

On each side of the entrance to tlie
Hall of Animals, observe a ^uj)erb
statue of a W olf-dog.

II A LI, or ANIMALS.

A small Goat bit by a Serpent in the

mouth.
A 11 vena devouring a Sheep, in which

the wool is represented.
Two (irevhouiids.one bilins: the other's

ear.
A Dog which has leapt on the back of

a Sta'.;, biting its side.
Another statue of the same subject, in

which the stag bounds away with

the speed of the wind.
A Pointer, of speckled marble.
A small Lion, of dun-coloured marble.

A Goat suckling a Kid.

Tliree Ci-anes killing Serpents.

A Leopard of Eiryjitian alabaster, with
the sj>ots beautifully let in.

A lar'^e Lion couchant, of^'m/A) antioK

Another statue of a Lion, half recum-
bent, with the head of an ox bel\\e<:n
his paas.

Statue of a Horse.

A Horse's Head.

In the G\LLi iiY of Staties sec —

No. 854. Statue of a Pemale holding
up her hands in surprise. Il stands
in a recess to the left.

No. 1)0-2. A semi -colossal statue of
.lupiter seated ; a statue of Diana.
At the opposite end of the Gallery
observe a n^cumbenl statue of a
Female Asleej), wearing an armlet
of the figure of an a.<.p, called, from
this circumstance, the Cleopatra.

HALL or THE FAIN.

Statue of a Faun, in nfsso antico.

A (ranymede.

No. 04,-,. Statue of a Female Bac-
chante.

Statue of Adonis.

A Pontitical Chair, in rosso an^ico, quite
perfect.

The fresco on the ceiling represents the
Marriage of Bacchus and Ariadne.

HAIL 01 THE Ml SES.

Note Urania, holding her attribute, a
globe, in her hand ; tlie Muse of
Comedy, seated ; and Sappho.

Here are also some fine termmal busts
of Pericles, Solon, /eno, Miltiades,
Socrates, &c.

In goinii to the Hall of the Porphyry
Basin, observe a Statue of that hoary
and obscene sot, Silenus, holding a
cup in his hand.

HAM or IHE PORIMIYRY IIASIN.

So called from the large magnificent
basin which stands in the centre.

APPENDIX ROMS — THE CAMPIDOOLIO.

403

Remark two fine Statues of Juno, one
as Queen of Olympus, with a patera
in her left hand, the other as Queen
of Hell,holding a spear and buckler.

Statues of Bacchus and Amphion.

A Statue seated, and one of Ceres.

Busts of Jupiter, Pertinax,and Faustina.

On each side of the doorway, observe
two terms of Bacchantes (extremely
fine).

As you leave this hall, observe, on the
rij^t of the passage, the Statue of a
Philosopher teaching.

HALL OF THE CAR.

The Horses and Car occupy the centre.
No. 1311 is a beautifully delicate Sutue,

leaning his arm on the trunk of a tree.
No. 1286. A Minerva.
No. 1290. A most beautiful Bacchanal.
A Discobolus in the act of throwing

the disc.
A Statue of Ajax.
Observe, also, two beautiful Sarcophagi,

the bas-reliefs on which give a good

idea of an ancient chariot-race.

The Campidoglio. OB Capitol,

Derived its latter name from the cir-
cumstance of a human head being
found in digging the foundations of
the Temple of Jupiter, which the
augurs construed to presage that
Rome should one day be the capital
of the world.

The fine flight of steps by which you
ascend to the Capitol was designed
by Michael Angela, at the top of
which, on the balustrades, you see
two colossal Statues of Castor and
Pollux standing by their horses.
Next to these stand what are com-
monly called the Trophies of Marius,
although the best antiquaries con-
sider them, from the style of sculp-
ture, to have been executed in honour
of the victory gained by Trajan over
theDacians. Beyond these, towards
the extremities of the balustrade,
are two Statues of the Sons of Con-
stantine the Great, found in the
baths of that emperor, which stood
on the Quirinal Hill.

The bdustrade is terminated by two
small columns : that to the right on
mounting is an ancient milestone,
which, by the number, I., marked the
first mile on the Apptan road ; the
other, placed at the opposite end, was
made merely for uniformity's sake.

The Pedestal on which the equestrian
Statue of Marcus Aurelius stands
was made out of a single block of
marble of the architrave taken from
Trajan's Forum.

The Museum, and the Palace of the
Conservaltori, which face each other
on the Capitol, are beautiful speci-
mens of the architectural skill of
Michael Angtlo.

In the court, over a fountain, a recum-
bent colossal Statue of the Rhine
reposes.

MUSEUM OF THE CAMPIDOGLIO.

The door of entrance is opposite to the
Palace of the Conservatori.

In the Quadrangle, you see a colossal
Statue of Ocean ; and in the Arcade,
a Statue of Polyphemus, Endymion
and his Dog, and the Dacian Pro-
vince.

hall of canopus.
We learn from Vaii, that the statuary
here was found in the Canopus of
Hadrian's villa at Tivoli. Tliey are
almost all of basalt, or nero antico.
Besides a number of statues of
Egyptian divinities and priestesses,
you see a Cynocepbalus, a Canopus,
and a Crocodile.

The Secoud Room on the ground floor
contains the Sarcophagus of the Em-
peror Alexander Severus, and his
mother, Mammea. The sides are
ornamented with four beautiful bas-
reliefs : that iu front represents Aga-
memnon restoring Briseb to Achilles :
on one hand, you see the Captivity
of Briseis represented ; on the other,
Achilles revenging the Death of Pa-
troclus. The bas-relief behind shews
the Restitution of the Body of Hector.

A Disk, on which the Life of Achilles
is represented ; HercUles vanquished
by Cupid, in mosaic; a group of
Pluto and Cerberus; and a Statue
of Nero. ,

Ascend now the staircase, and observe
a plan of ancient Rome let into the
wall ; and a Statue of Modesty.

iOi APPENDIX — ROME — PALACE OF THE CONSERVATOR!.

va^e in her
«, AUxandcr

T\\(- Aim: :vi nt mi the Dying C^la-

The (.' .c'Tate'l Statue Nsheiice the

a; .irlinciit t tko il«i irin"iH.
T'.- jri.uji (jf ( upki and Psyche.
A M.it'M- (if Z»-i-o.
A nvi,t.'>tic Matue ot Juno.
A I a'in with a Pijiv.
A tir:.; Sr.itiie "f AiiMiou^.
An<''l:»r, I'f !ivr"ic |.r(.|»..'rt.o[i?, called

th«j I-JV) t\in Aniii.(HW.
X'ti.u-; C('ni;i: ' <'\\\ <-»t tlu- B-ith.
A S' it'v <.t'.\| -y.l". fwui.tl m the Sol-

l,;Kira, I » tr 'l';voli.
A St.iu:. (»; l\ii. lora.
Ai;ol!iei nt 1 lora.
A I'lit >k>>>j hullii!.' a

hands.
lUi^N of M.ircns Piruti

the (»;t.it. and Aiiadnr ci"u\s in:d

\Nilli i\y.
A haut.fiil (ol'Uiin (jf puddiu_'?tunc.

.\i' \I>T M F M Vl nil I AL N.

So narnt.d fioni a licantitul Statue of a
Pann, ui n>s^o (inliiOy which .stands
in thr centre of the room.

A Statue of Innocence ])rebsin^ a Uove
to hi r l»:ca>t.

A (In hi with a Swan.

1 nC s.M (.)ON.

A 'jdt hr< n/c 1I» rrnlcN.

Tuo Centaur?, ni ?/(n» (irifico.

An Infant Hercules, m bronze, of co-

ht>->al proportioFis.
A Statue of .i^•^cula^^ius, in lu / o (intin>.
I^i> holdinu a Cistruin in her hand.
A W-nus, ni the attitude of the Medicis.
ll;ir|)ocrat< s, the (jod of Silence.
Cains Marine in his consular robes.
Hadrian a> Mars.
A llercuhs, in uMeen basalt,
liusi.s of Trajan and Antoninus.

Tlie Ham. oi tue PniLo'^oiMirr.^ con-
tains, iipon shelves, \0l busts and
terms ofdiHerent [)hilo>uphers, poets,
onitors, and other illustrious men ;
anions the most remarkable of whom
sou find busts of Julian the Ajiostate,
Cleopatra, Archimedes, Homer, Pin-

dar, Sappho, Virqil, TMato, Epicurus,
Aristotle, Aspasia, and a mo-it :n
one of Gabnelle Paerno, bv Mtch-.tJ
An^tlo. A graceful bronze Slatuo
occupies the centre of the apart-
ment.

In the Apartment of tiieEmperohs
observe a Suitue of Agrip])ina, tlie
mother of Germanicu««, >t'a»eil m
a curule chair, and placed m t':e
Centre of the room. The numon'us
bu>is of tlie emperors and t- mpre>M.s,
piinces and princesses, are all nanu-d
and arrauized chronologically, several
of which are very fine and nire.
Amonu' others may be noticed those
of Tiberius and hi> wife Antonina;
of Poppea, Nero's second wife ; of
Cali'jnla ; Julia; of LuciUa, one of
the finest in the Museum ; and,
lastly, of Comraodus, esteeme<l b«>th
for Its excellent workmanship and
the scarceness of portraits of tins
emj^eror.

Von now enter the Long Gallery.
Here remark an Infant Hercules
(No. 2<)), evidently the poi trait o{
some bov ; a Wounded (iladiator,
ti^iitiivj, like Witherin-jton in Clievy
Chase, on his stumps ; Psyche ;Cato
tlie Censor, No. 18 ; and Scipio
African us, No. 50.

A PA UT MINT or THE VASE.

Ob>erve liie extremely handsome ves-
sel whence the aj)artment gets its
name ; it is ornamented with superb
ba -reliefs, representing the twelve
principal divinities of pa<::anism. It
was found near the tomb of Cecilia
.Metell.i. Also, a bronze Vase, which
once belonged to ^lilhridates, king
of Pont us : a Statue of Diana of
I'.phesus ; and the celebrated anti(]ue
mosaic, in pictra liura, of I'our
Piueon^drinkin.; from a bowl, found
in Adrian's villa al Tivoli, and de-
scribed by Plinv,

Palace or the Conslp^vaioiii.

Cnder the Poutico op the Coi iit you
hnd a Statue of Julius Casar to the
ri'^lit, and one of Augustus to the
left. Se\eral fragments of colossal
Statues are- arranged round the court,
among which you observe two I''eet
and a Hand of enormous propor-

tions, t0'.:ether w ith part of a Thiuh
and a Toe, which are thought by
some to liave belonged to a colossal
statue of Apollo, which l.ucidlus
brou'^ht from Pontns ; ami by others,
to the colossal statue of NVro winch
stood in front of the Colosseum.

APPENDIX — ROME — PALACE OP THE CONSERVATOR!. 406

A bronze Head of Commodus, and
another in marble of Domitian.
Here, also, you see a fine group of
Greek sculpture of a Lion devouring
a Horse. At the bottom of the court,
enclosed by an iron palisade, you
find a fine Statue representative of
Rome Triumphant ; and below, the
well«4[nown bas-relief of the Weep-
ing Province. On each side stands
a Statue of a Dacian King as a
Captive ; they are of gray marble,
ana of rare workmanship ; beside
which are two Egyptian Idols, of
Oriental gianite.

Facing the First Flight of Steps you
see a copy of the feroous Rostral
Column which was erected in the
Forum in honour of the naval victory
obtained by the consul Caius Dui-
lius over the Carthaginians in the
year of Rome 492 . ( Vati.) Beneath
is an original fragment of the ancient
inscription.

On the First Lamdimg-place you
find, placed in niches, the Statues
of the Muses Urania and Thalia;
and on the walls of the court which
forms the platform there are four
superb has -relief, relating to the
history of Marcus Aurelius.

Continuing to mount, you observe on
the wall to the left a beautiful bas-
relief of M. Curtius, the Sabine, on
horseback, crossing the marsh which
was in the forum, on the occasion
of the single combat betwixt Romu-
lus and T^tius.

On the Secono Lamdimo-place are
two bas-relieis let into tlie wall, which
formerly belonged to the triumphal
arch of M. Aurelius : one represents
this emperor on a pedestal, reading
the petitions of toe people ; the
otlier, the Apotheosis of Faustina
the younger.

From this Unding-place a door leads
into a Saloon, named after the
artist who executed the paintings,
the Cavallicre UArpino. TTie sub-
jects are, the Finding of Romulus
and Remus ; Romulus marking out
the first Boundaries of Rome with
a Plough-share ; the Rape of the
Sabines ; Numa Pompilius at sacri-
fice with the Vestals; the Battle of
the Romans against the Veians ; and
lastly, the Challenge of the Iloratii
and Cunatii.

From this you enter the First of a
Suite of Rooms, where the paint-
ings relating to parts of early Roman
history are contmued. In this you
see Mutius Scsvola burning off his
hand before Porsenna ; Brutus con-
demning his two sons ; Horatius
Cocles arresting the Etrurians single-
handed on the Sublician Bridee,
and the Battle by which Tarquin Sie
Proud was driven from Rome. In
this room you find an hefoic Statue
of Mark Antony.

The Second Room is adorned with a
beautiful frieze, painted by Daniel
da VoUerrOf representi ng the Triumph
of Marius softer the defeat of the Cim-
bri. In this apartment you likewise
see the bronze Wolf which was for-
merly in the Temple of Romulus :
also a superb bust of Junius Brutus,
Rome's nrst radical ; a group of Di-
ana Triformis ; a bas-relief of the
Gate of Eternity; and a beautiful
statue, seated, of the Shepherd Mar-
tins plucking the thorn from his foot.

In the Third you see several fragments
of marble in the wall, on which are
inscribed the Fasti Consulares up to
the time of Augustus, and two other
inscriptions of modem date, com-
memorating the victories of Mark
Antony, Colonna, and of Alexander
Faniese. Over the door of entrance
is a fine Head, in bas-relief, of Mi-
thridates, king of Pontus.

In the Fourto, the two bronze Ducks,
cast to commemorate the Capitol
being saved by their cackling : they
were found among the ancient ruins
of the Capitol. Here is also a Me-
dusa's Head in marble, by Bernini;
two beautifiil Mosaics, found at Ti-
voli ; a Holy Family, by GiuUo R^
mano; and representations of the
Olympic Games, by Zuccheri.

The Fifth is a Chapel, containing a
portrait of the late Pope, Leo XII.,
and four busts of Socrates, Sappho,
Ariadne, and Sabina Pompai. The
frieze was painted by Hannibal Ca^
racci.

In the Sixth you see statues of Cicero,
Virgil, and the goddess Cybele. The
ftescos are by Ferugino,

Off" this room is a Chapel. The Altar-
piece is by Pinel, a modem artist ;
and the four Evangelists, four Saints,
and the Deity, on the ceiling, are by

406 APPENDIX — ROME — PALACE OF THE CONSERVATORI.

Carimt^^'io ; and St. Cecilia, by
Romuntlli.

l>AINTINf;S — riUST ROOM.

The Bealilied Spirit, by (iuiJo ; but it
wants* the 'liiox Krffctu'uov;.

The FincUni; of Romulus and Remus,
bv RulcnSy in liis highest fmished
manner.

Two charming Landscapes, by Van
B/minn. Nos. (33 and GO.

The Triumph of Hacchus, by Orizorite,
No. (>>.

A Ma^^dalen, by A I bant.

INJoses striking the Rock in the Wil-
derness. The style of colouring: finely
(lej^ictsthe eft'eet of an arid sun, con-
veying the idea of parched, absorbent,
almo^it un(|uenehal)le thirst. No. 08.

The Trium[)h of IMoni, by Poussin.

Bacchus and Ariadne — School of

Joseph bold by his Brelliren.

A Magdalen, by (iatirino.

Another, by (iitiilo.

Another, by Tintontlo.

The Cumaan Sibyl, by Dowenicfiiun.

The Persian Sibyl, by (iatrcino. No. 38.

St. John the Baptist, by Da Voltcrra.

No. .>1. Remark the conectness of

the design and natural reality of the

colouring.
The Marriage of St. Catherine, No. 43,

by Conrgio.
Da\id treading on the head of Goliath,

by Romaml/i. No. 4(3.
The'Xirgin and Child Jesus, by Alhani.
A Holy Family, by Garofolo.
The Communion of St. Jerome, by

Aiioat. Curacci.
A miniature copy, in water colours, of

Suble}ras's Last Supper (in the

Louvre), by his wife Zibaldl.
\'anity, by Titiun.
Judith with the Head of Ilolofernes,

by GuiJo.
Orpheus (cabinet size). No. 27.
Martyrdom of St. Sebastian (small).

No. 24.
The Rape of the Sabines, by Da Cor-

toiui. No. 15.
Thf Sncnfice of Iphigenia, by the same.

No. 4.

SECOND ROOM.

The Apotheosis of St. Petronilla, by

Gtarcino.
Europa, by Paul Vcromsc. No. 103.
The same subject, by Guldo (small):

No. 40.

Polyphemus, by the same. No. 44.
The Woman taken in Adulter^-, by

Titian. Remark the divinity of the

countenance of Christ. No. 37.
No. 24 is a naked Figure, in which the

effect of light and shade is finely

manaired.
Lazarus at the Rich Man's Table. No. 8.
The Conversion of St. Paul. No. lOo.
7'he Pool of Bethesda, by Dotntnichiih*

(small). No. .57.
St. John the Baptist getting water from

a spring (small). No. 53.
A Witch, by Sulvator Rosa. No. 86.
St. Sebastian, by Ludovico Curacci.

No. 89.
Another, by Gucrcino. No. 100.
A Gipsy Fortune-teller, by Caravaiisio.

No. 72.
A beautiful small Landscape, by Dt>-

nunichino. No. 79.
A Portrait of Petrarch, by Btliino,

No. 78.
A Soldier in armour, seated, by Sal-

vator Rosa. No. 7(3.
Endymion asleep, by Gucrci?io. No. 94.
An I'cce Homo, by Baroccio.
Cleopatra before Augustus, by Paul

Veronese. No. 93.
Cupid on a Footstool plucking posies,

by a female pupil ofGuido's. No. 101 .
St. Cecilia, by Lud. Caracci. No. 114.
The Graces, by Palma il Giovanc.

No. 120.

Descending from the Capitol you come
to the FouTM ROM.4.NUM, where the
remains of the following edifices are
to be seen : — The Temple of Concord.
Livia was the wife of Augustus, in
honour of whose amiable life and
virtues this temi)le was dedicated by
Tiberius. The Temples of Jupiter
Tonans and Stator; the Triumphal
Arch of Septimius Severus ; the
Column of the Emperor Phocos; the
Temf)le of Augustus and Faustina ;
that of Remus, now forming the ves-
til)ide of the Church of Saints Cosmo
and Oamian; that of Peace, and the
Triumphal Arch of Titus.

On the P.\LATiNElInL stand the ruins
of the Palace of the Casars. Here
also Cicero, Catiline, Cras^us, and
others, had houses. The Farnese

APPENDIX — THE COLOSSEUM — PALAZZO PONTIFICIO. 407

Gardens occupy a portion of this hill ;
but since the royal house of Naples
became heirs to the Famese pro-
perty, the statues, &€. which adorned
them have been removed.
At the foot of the Palatine Hill, leading
out of the Forum, on the left as you
go by the Velabrum towards the Ti-
ber, you find the Temple of Romulus,
now consecrated as the Church of

St. Theodore. The Tribune is oma*
mented with an ancient mosaic ; the
High Altar-piece is by Zuccheri; and
the two Laterals by Baciccio and
Ghezzi. The bronze wolf we saw
in the Capitol, was found in this
temple, which stands, it is thought,
on the very spot where the twin bro-
thers were discovered by the shep-
herd Faustulus.

The Colosseum.

This amphitheatre, the most magni-
ficent ruin in Rome, was erected by
the Emperor Vespasian, on his return
from the Jewish war, in the seventy-
second year of the Christian em. It
cost above 2,000,000/. in building,
and 12,000 Jewish slaves, taken at
Jerusalem, were employed during
the five years it took ere it was com-
pleted under Titus bis son. The
colossal statue of Nero was placed
in front of it, and hence it took the
name of the Colosseum. It is built
of blocks of travertine, and its exterior
surrounded by three rows of arches
raised one upon another, of the three
principal oraers of architecture, and
the whole surmounted by lofty Co-
rinthiait pilasters.

Nearly opposite the Colosseum you see
the rums of the Temples of the Sun
and Moon, and of the Triumphal
Arch of Constantine. The bas-reiieft
on the frieze of the latter, representing
the taking of Verona and the Battle
of Ponte Molle, as well as the figures
of the four Heroes and the two Cir-

culars on the sides of the arch, indi-
cate the decline of the arts under
Constantine. The other sculptures
were taken from one of the arches of
Trajan, when the fine arts were at
their acm^ of perfection : these are
tlie ten square bas-relie6 which you
see in the attic, the eight circulars
over the small arcades, and the two
larger ones under the grand arcade.
They all relate to the life of Trajan.

The ruins of the Aqueduct which we
see on the Palatine Hill, near the
Arch of Constantine, are those of
Septimius Severus, which conducted
part of the Claudian water to supply
the palace of the Cssan.

Between the Colosseum and the Arch
of Constantine, you see the remains
of a fountain, called the Meta Sa-
DANS, from having had the form of a
circus goal. The water jutted out of
its top and tumbled all around. It
was here the gladiators came to drink
and refresh themselves when fatigued
with tlie sports of the arena.

PaIMTIMOS IK THE pALAZZO PoKTIFICIO A MONTE CaVALLO.

A Premiere Pens^ of the Transfigura-
tion, by Raphael.

St. John, by Giulio Romano.

A St. Agnes, and a St. Catherine, by
Han. Caracci.

Christ and the Virgin, by Rubem.

The same subject, by Gwdo.

Saul and David, by Guerdno.

An Altar-piece, in an adjoining Chapel,
of the Annunciation, by Guido.

An Ecce Homo, by Domenichino.

In another apartment you see an As-
cension, by Vantfyck.

Christ disputing in the Temple, by
Caravaggio. '

A St. Peter and a St. Paul, by Fra
Bartohmmeo.

A St. Sebastian, by Paul Veronese.

An Adoration of the Magi, by Guercino.

PaINTIMGS IK THE BOROHESE PaLACE.

FIRST ROOM.

St. Peter after denying Christ, by l^ftag'

noletto.
The Judgment of Solomon — school of

the Cmeci,

SECOND ROOM.

An Ecce Homo, by Han. Caracci,
A Dead Christ, by Garofoh.
The same subject, bv ZuccherL
St. Francis praying, by Cigoli,

408

APPENDIX THE BORGHESE PALACE.

A Holy Family, by Pnrizzo — school of

])tl Sarftt.
Led a, bv I'lKnri.
IMo>('.s, by Cmuh/o. a fiiie painting: in

the niuniier of his master, C"ara\aj,'.:io.
Diana bntlnng, by PoUmlx ri:.
A Prize-shootmg Party of Diana's, by

Dorm nirfiino.
A Manger Scene, by Tibahli.

THFRl) ROOM.

Lucretia, by Hronzino.

Joseph and Poliphar's Wife, a beantiful

c()j>y of hil/ivirti's in the Florence

(Jallery.
Mary and Joseph watchinc: the Infant

Jesns asleep, by Font ana (small).
St. Anthony proacliing to the Fishes,

bv Paul J crontsc. A fine marine

landscajie.
Polyphemus, by Lanfninco.
A l*ortrait of Ha[)h:iel when fourteen,

painted by himself.
A tine Portrait, by J)a Cortona.
St. Catlu'rine surrounded by several

beautiful Heads, by P(irvn<^hi}iino.
A Holy Family, by Picrino del Vo^a^

a pupil of Raphael.

rOUIlTH ROOM.

A \'isitalion, by Ruhctis. This is a
cabinet ])icture, and resembles in its
composition the large one we see in
the ( athedral at Antwerp.

St. .lohn in the Wilderness, copied by
(liulio Hiununo from KaphaeFs in
the Tribune at Florence.

F.uropa, by the C/nvdlicr dWrpino.

St. .lohu the Baptist, by hronzino.

The Nvmph C'alliste asleep in a charm-
inu: landscape .scene.

The Female Alagician, by Dosso D(?ssi.

A Magdalen, by Fontann.

The celebrated Descent from the Cross,
h\ Ixap/tdil. The figure of the evau-
gelist St. John is particularly fine.

Hie Cumaau Sibyl, by Dounuiihino.

A Holy Family, by Cunofolo.

Two of the Prophet*?, by Michael An-
iiilo.

rum koom.

Ucmark four circular Paintings by Ai-
luini. The first represents Vulcan
and \enus reposing in the foreground
of a beautiful landscape, while Cu-
pids amuse themselves in shooting
at a heart on a shield Wwd to a tree.

Tlu' *«.<"/./. N'j^nus at her Toilette, at-
tiMided b\ th«* diaces.

The /A/m/, Nunphs of Diana stealing

the Arrows and breaking the Bows

of Cupids asleep, wlnle two otliers

withdraw an arrow from a transfixed

and bleeding heart.
The f'ourth represents the Departure of

Adonis for the ('ha<e.
The Four Aijes of Human I^ife, copud

by Sdssof'trrati from Titian. Tiie

original is in England.
Two small Landscapes, of great merit

and beautv, bv Frunct&co H^^l^*^^tt se.
Portrait of Fornarina, by Giulio R.t-

nntno.
Led a — of the school of Da Vinci.
A X'enus, by Giulio Romano.
Another, by hcccajumi.

SIXTH ROOM.

Orpheus charming the Beasts of the
titld by his ^lusic, bv Paul Hrili.

Portrait of a Female holding Scissors
in her hand, by Romanclii.

SrvrNTlI ROOM.

A fine Portrait, by Carava^^^io, holding
in his hand fruit and flowers.

Figure of a Poor Man kneeling before
a Saint, bv Ikmiuicio.

An allegorical representation of Pla-
tonic and Sexual Love, by Titian.

Cupid and Psyche, by Dosso Dossi.

Judith and Holofernes.

A Marine A'iew, bv Paul Brill.

EIGHTH ROOM.

A Head of Christ, by Carlo Dolce.

A Head of the Madonna, by the same.

Cattle in a Landscape, by Paul Pottt r.

The Holy Virgin, \>iih (the boy) Je>us
and St. Ann, a beautiful large paint-
ing, by Caravaagio.

A Magdalen, by Del &irto.

The (i races, by Titian.

Christ on the Cross, by Vanduck(smdi[\).

The Prodigal Son.

NINTH ROOM.

Lot and his Daughters, by Delia Noffr.
This is perhaps one of I'aidHnifhorst's
finest candle-light effects: the light
blazes in Lot's face, and the glare of
his eye denotes and develops the
flush of lustful and incestuous pas-
sion and intemperance.

A \ isitation, by Del Piombn.

A Holy Family, with St. George, by
(jariffhlo.

The Flagellation of Christ, by Zncchtri
(small).

A Cook and Viands, by Caravaesio.

A charming Madonna and Child, by
the divine and soft pencil of Dolce.

APPENDIX ROME — DORIA PALACE.

409

In the FarkeS£ Palace you see the
noble Frescos by Hannibal Caracci
and his scholars, representing the
Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne,
the Stones of Acis and Galatea, of
Diana and Endymion, Europa and
the Bull, Apollo flaying Marsyas,
Salmacis and Ilermaphr^itus, Per-
seus and Andromeda, Jupiter and
Ganymede, Hero and Leander, Au-
rora and Cephalus, Syrinx turned
into reeds by Pan, &c.

The Piazza Colonna.
This piazza derives its name from the
superb column which the Roman
senate raised in honour of Marcus

Aurelius, for the victories he gained
over the Marcomanni. It is of the
Doric order, and consists of twenty-
eight blocks of marble placed one
over another, the diameter of which
is eleven feet and a half; and the
height, comprising the base and
capital, eighty-eight feet and a half.
The whole, including the foundation,
pedestal, and statue, stands one
nundred and forty-eight feet and a
half high, to whose summit you
ascend by an inner staircase of one
hundred and ninety marble steps.
The Post-oflice, also, is in this
square.
Turn down the Corso to the Doria
Palace.

DoRiA Palace.

The Portico, which is before the grand
staircase, is remarkable for its flat
ceiling, and the difiiculties which
the architect had to encounter and
overcome in its construction : it is
sustained by eight columns of Ori-
enlal granite. Thence you mount,
by a fine and spacious staircase, to
the apartments, which contain a rich
and superb collection of paintings
by the best masters.

Those in the First Room are all in
water-colours, by Gaspard Pouuin
and his scholars.

SECOND ROOM.

The TViumph of David, with landscape
scenery ; and the Finding of Moses —
both good — artbt uncertain.

Two Landscapes, by Giacomo Eremite.

A Horse drinking at a Well, on which
a female Turk is seated, by Benedetto
Castiglkme.

Several oil paintings, by Gaspard
Poutdn, 1 he two that pleasea me
most were the Samaritan, and Saint
John in the Wilderness.

Two Landscapes— one representing the
Repose in Egypt, tne other an
Offering to Mercury.

The Conversion of St. Paul, by Zuo-
chert,

Galatea, by Lanfranco.

Andromeda, by Ludovko Caracci (ex-
cellent).

A Storm at Sea, by Tempetti.

Entrance of the Animals into the Ark,
bT BatMono (in his better finish).

Endymion, l^ Guercino.

The Repose in Egypt, with angels

ministering, by Franceico Mola

(laige).
A Pieta, by Paul Veronete,
Four paintings emblematical of the

Quarters of the Globe, by Solimene.
The Death of Abel, by Salvatar Rota.
Icarus and Dedalus — school of Andrea

Sacchi,
Galatea, by Pierino del Vaga.
Two small Landscapes, by Both.
A Descent from the Crofs, by Vasari,

There are many beautiful figures in

this picture, but it wants more depth

of shade to give it repose.

THIRD ROOM.

A fine Pieta, by Hannibal Caracci,
Endymion and Diana, by Rubens,
Narcissus regarding himself ia the

Water, by Cagnacci.
Agar in the I>esert, by Spagnoletto.
Abraham's Sacrifice, by CattigUone.

FOURTH ROOM.

The Tribute to C«sar, by // Calabrese.
Semiramis at her Toilette, by Hamubal

Caracci.
Bathsheba bathing, by Branca,
Time plucking Cupid's Wings, by

Albanim
Two St. Jeromes, by Spagnoletto.
Roman Charity, by Valentin.
Two Bambocci*s.
You now enter the Qu adbanole.

FIRST SIDE to the left.
Sassoferrati^s celebrated Madonna.
A Magdalen, by II Calabrese.
Spring and Autumn personified, by Ro-

manelli.

G G

410

APPENDIX — ROME — SCIARRA PALACE.

A Mafrdnlen, by Titian ; but she ex-
f-inj^litics no pt-nitence.

Cldtult's Moliiid (exquisitely beauti-
ful).

Tiiree Lunettes, by Ilannihal Cmacci,
K prescuiiuii the Fl.^lit into Kuvpt,
tilt' \ iMtatinn, and Annunciatioii.

The Ht'jHxe in Muypt, by Cttravtiiiiiio.
A beautit^ul s} ecinien of tlie artist.

A l^i-t Supper, l>y 'I'lHtortUit^m \>hieb
llie MaL'tlaleu i> batliiui: tiic Sa\ iour^
ft et.

Lot and bis DauLdtters, ])y ])clUi Xotfc.

A uroup of C'upids tiulitmi:, 1)V Cisi.

Death of Tancred, by (iturcino.

Si. l\o(k as a sh» pherd, \vnl) bis do;i',
in a huid-seapo seene : a sheplierd-
boy is dre-'Siiic his wound, — by the
]^.i>toral prncil oi SchuJinit.

Another le.uitiful landscape, bv Cluuiiv^
the pi lulitiit of th.e Molina.

An unfuusIiL-d Sketch, bv Ccrrasio.

On the SicoND Side there are no
paintinL;.s.

nil no ^^inr.
The Muiiler of the Innocents, by Li/ca

A >Liudaien, by .l/z//-///o (haviiij^ evcrv

a p pea ra n ei' o f a p o r I ra it).
The Ixejiose m l'u\pt, by Claude.
A .NLejdukn, by l\ti {Donuuichino).
The Martyrdom of St. Aunes.

A fine Portrait of Pope Panfili.

St. John in the Wilderness, by Cuer-

cino.
A fine Marine Landscape, by Torn-

^iuiio.
Judith with the Head of Holofernes,

by Gnido.
Bebsarius, bv Saivator Tiosa.
A Holy Family, by Sassoftrrati.

rorilTH SIDF.

The same subject, by Ludovico Ca-

racci.
Portraits of Luther, C'aUin, and Donna

C'aterina, by Gioriiionc.
A Madonna and Child, by Sa^nflr-

rati
The same subject, by Carlo Maratta.
Armina, by Da Cortona.
Susanna bathinor, by Hannibal Caracci.

Small, yery fine.
Samson, by Guercino.
St. Peter liberated from Prison by tlie

Anuel, by Lanfranco.
Abraham's Sacrifice, by Titian.
A small Crucifixion, by Michael An-

geh.
Si. John holding a Dimb in his arms.
A copy of the Aldobrandini Marriage,

by yicfiolas Poussin.
Portrait of Giovanna, queen of Ana gon,

by J)a Tinci.
Another fine St. Jerome, by Sjxigno-

htto.

P.\1M1N(..S IN TIIF SCIAURA PaLACE.

riHsT IlOOM.

Raphael's Transfiiruration in tlie \ ati-

ean, finely copied by his jiupil Giulio

Ixoiitano,
St. I)arbaia, by Dr/ Cortona.
The Decollation of St. John, by Gior-

gi<inc.
St. Peter healing the Sick, by J^>-

nnnuUi.
The Sacrifice of Abraham, by Dtlla

Xotfc.
The Magdalen at the feet of Jesus

after his Resurrection (small), by

Gantfolo.
St. Augustin giving Alms, by Carlo

^laratta.
Kome Tnnniphant. At her feet, in

r« cumbent po:>lures, the Tigris and

Tiber lie, with the figures of Ko-

mulus and Uemus as appropriations.
Christ and the VVoman of Samaria, by

Garot'olo.

The Murder of the Innocents, by Ba$-
sano. (Small, finished.)

SrcOND ROOM.

Rich in Landscapes of great beauty.
Observe two by Paul Brill, the
figures in which keep them quite
alive.

Two, by Claude: one represents the
Flight into Egypt ; the other, the
Lake of ikacciano, exemplifying, by
contrast, day and night effects in his
usual masterly manner.

A small Landscape, by Breu£:hel.

Two early Landscapes of Claudes.

One by AVr. Poussiuy in which he in-
troduces St. Luke and an Angel.

Also several beautiful Landscapes by
Bo t It's brother.

THJIID HOOM.

Charity, bv Elizabeth Sirani.
A Holy Family, by J mala.

APPENDIX — ROME BARBERINI PALACE.

411

Noah drank* by Andrew Sacchi, Not
of the most decorous character.

SamsoD, by Garotelli.

Moses with the Tables of the Law. A
richly toned aod impressive painting,
in the manner of his master, Cara-
▼aggio, by Guido.

A Holy Family, by Albani (very fine).

Portrait of Fornarina, by GiuUo JRo-
mono. She is naked almost to the
wabt.

FOUBTH ROOM.

A Landscape Scene, by Schidone, in
which you see two shepherds re-
garding a human skull : on the stone
on which it is placed you read, " Et
in Arcadia ego^

Two excellent paintings of the Evan-
gelists St. John and St. Mark, by
Guercino,

A portrait of Raphael in a green dress,
by himself.

The " Matrimony" of Agottino Caracci.

Personification of Modesty and Vanity,
by Da Vinci.

Two Gamblers ** plucking a pigeon,'*
b^ Caravaggio.

Guido*i two well-known Magdalens :
one the *< AlU Radice.''

A small Giotto on panel.

St. Sebastian, by Perugino.

Portrait of Titian *s Mistress, bv himself.

A small sketch of the Martyrdom of St.
Erasmus, which served as 3. premiere
pensee for that in the Vatican.

St. James, by Guercino.

St. Jerome, by the same (small).

The Death of the Virgin, by Albert
Durer,

Portrait of a Lady in a black velvet
dress, by Broniino (very fine).

The Death of Dido, by Schidone.

Satan tempting three Shepherds in
their dreams, by the same.

On the ground floor there are three
rooms containing ancient sculptures ;
among which you see a Sarcophagus
ornamented with bas-reliefs, repre-
senting the Muses ; a fine statue of
a Priesttfss ; one of Marcus Aurelius ;
another in bronze of Septimius Se-
verus ; a Ceres ; a Bacchus ; three
colossal Busts; five Egyptian figures ;
a satue of an Amazon ; and a beau-
tiful Diana.

Flaminio Vacca was the architect of
this palace.

The Gallery of the Colonna Palace

contains —
A Magdalen in Glory, by Hait. Caracci.
St. John in the Wilderness, by Sal-

vator Rosa,
Portraits of Titian's Family, by himself.
St. Peter and the Angel, by Lanfranco.
Several fine Landscapes, by Nicolas

and Caspar Poussin, Orizonte, Ber-

ghanif &c.
The Ceiling of this Gallery represents

the Battle of Lepanto, in which the

author of Don Quixote lost his hand.

In the Ante- ROOM you see —
Portraits of Luther and Calvin, by

Titian.
Europa, by Albani ; and
Hie subject of Cain and Abel, by

Sacchi.

Paintings, &c. in the Baeberini Palace.

ENTRANCE HALL.

A Statue of Pan, by Michael Angela,
He lies on his Iraick asleep. Thrs
makes a fine contrast with another
statue of —

Diana asleep, by Bernini.

St. Catherine in Prison, by 11 Cala-
brete. The dark shading of this
painting harmonises well with the
depth of a£9iction depicted by St.
Catherine. There is an imposing
grandeur in all Calabrese's works, well
illustrated in the present painting.

From this you enter the Great Hall,
and see the magnificent Ceiling
painted by Pielro da Cortona.

FIRST BOOM.

A Magdalen in a landscape scene, by
Gutdo. This, by a mistake, is as-
cribed to Guercino in the text.

Animals, by Fiamingo.

SECOND ROOM.

Four paintings of St. John, St. Paul,

St. Peter, and St. James, by Carlo

Maratta.
Four other Apostles of corresponding

size, by Andrea Sacchi,
St. John, by Guercino,
David with the Head of Goliath, by

Cagnacci,
The two following rooms are lined with

Gobelin ta|)estry, representing the

412

APPENDIX ROME ROSPIGLIOSI PALACE.

rnpt.sTi of Con=itar,tine, Si. Helen,
ivLc a!'v.r d-«>;^r,> bv Ruhtns.

} ; :.^T r <Mi\i i p ^^AIn-.
T^Nu !t'j»; j'iwit.iij^, dcpiCtini: ihe Tri-
Lr:.;''j «_t Biee'ius arj<J the Feast of
t:,e (t.'1>, bv lioiinm Hi.

SEC ON I' r.<'<''M.

jL-tiTi and l*utip!iar*s Wife, by hilt-

.''rti.
Si. Jt-r.'rne, by />//« yi>(ft\ in liis

c''iir.<Ll»'r.>t.c >lvle of coluuring.
At ftiii-.r. by S;-aj'ii'Utlo.
T:ir»:t: bca':utiil I^iii'l>capes, by the

S';ri>!iine |'u;til ef h>*tli.
Ti-e\ ;r^.n. Iiifiiil Je>'.;««. and St. John,

bv p.. 7 "<:.'/ itiiniK
A I't.:riale [»l<iyin.' on a Guitar, by

r>':i-i.t (jI St. Ciiarles Borromeo.
T^^o .Mrii,:rjr,a<.

A SaLriti>.c i" Dkir'a, bv the ;:av and
[OcJic pencil oi F>iu^>in.

THir.D F.(Mm.
Ti«r Maruidom of St. Apollonia, by

Thr' Prophet E'.ias, by (hit rci/io.

Ttie Adoration of the ^lai^J, by Cura-

A small Picta, by Guercino.

Tiie Hifzht into E<r\pt, by AWani.

Porirdit of St. Andrea Coriini, by

Giiuh.
Tlie .\rchari<re1 Michael, a copy from

(iuido's, by the Chevalier cfArpi/io.

lot riTll KOOM.

Apollo and Diana shooting the Children
of N lube, by Cumasc(ii.

Two fine Landscapes, by Hoth.

St. Uosolia pnltiniT a slop to the Pla^iie
in Palestine. The dead lie stre^^ed
about, and an an-jel in the sky is
repie<enied sheathing the sword of
ven^'eance.

1 IITH llOOM.

Gitido's beautiful and interesting Por-
trait of the Cenci.

Portrait of iier .Mother, bv Gnetani.

A Carihai:ituan Slave, by Titian.

Portrait of Fornariua, by Raphael.
This, the custode tells you, is the
real oritrinal.

A Landscape, by Cbiude.

Clirisiandthe FJders,by.'JMfrf Durer.

The PiO{)liet Elijah, by Guercino.

The Re|>ose in K<jypt, by Album.

Adam and Eve, by Domenichino.

Paintings in thf Pavilion or the Rospigliosi Palace.

Here it i"- that the visitor sees Guido's
ceb.l rated Aurora, a fresco on the
celllIl■^^

Al>o, two allejoric?il paintings, by
Tt'iij^t^ti, rt jUL'-f-ntuu:,' the Triumph
of Lo\t ar.d of X'irtue. How dull
and })!o-aic lliC pajevUitry of the one !
llctw v;;iv and poetic the pr(»cession
of the olher ! Mrrcury is the avaiit-
courier. The Father of the Gods,
mounted on an ea<:le, with Juno by
his side. leads the joyous band. Gods
and coddesses of every attribute,
prectde the triumphal car, — even
the prude Diana does penance for
her sly amour with Endymion. Tor-
pitude, Slotii,and Watciifuhiess, fol-
low immediately behind ; and em-
perors and kings, bound to their
mistresses in the chains of the mi^^hty
concpieror, with a host of slaves of
inferior note, bring u]) the rear.
Cupid's triumph is compkte : his
slaves hug their chains, and rejoice
in their servitude.

In anAPAKTMLM lo the right, you

see Samson represented pulling down
the Temple of Da'4on at the feast,
amidst the consternation of the
tjuests, by Ludovico Curaccl.

Oi)posite to this is Adam |. lucking Fig-
leaves for I'.ve, by Dumtnichitw,

A Head of Guido, bv himself.

So})hon!sba drinking the Pcison, by //
Ca/al>nst. A fine magical paint-
in;.:.

A ihep and richly-toned Landscape,
by Gtarcino. Two hermaphrodites
sit by the side of a nil, going to
bathe.

In an Apaktmint to the left of the
Pavilion lliere are —

An Andromeda, by Guido.

The Triumph of David, by Domeni'
cftino. In landscape scenery, King
Saul, with nymphs playing on cym-
bals, the clarion, and lute, welcomes
the youthful hero on his return from
slayirii; Cioliath. An army tills up
the background, and numerous spec-
tators on the walls of .ferusalem hail
their deliverrr.

APPENDIX — ROME CORSINI PALACE.

413

£▼6 ofierhig the Apple to Adam, by

Palma Vecchio.
Chanty, by CignanL
A 6ne Pieta, by Hannihal CaraccL
Christ bearing his Cross, by Daniel da

Vulterra.
The Five Senses, by Carlo Cignani.

Conjugal Loye, by Giorgume.
Christ and the Apostles, by Rubens.
An Ecce Homo, by Guido.

Among several busts in this room, re-
mark that of Cicero, and the cele-
brated one of Scipio Africanus.

Paintings in the Corsini Palace.

FIRST ROOM.

An Ecce Homo, by Guercino.

SECOND ROOM.

Portrait of Rubens, by himself.
Christ before Pilate, by Vandtfck.
Two Cabinet Landscapes, by Salvator

Ro$a.
Lucretia, by Guercino.
St. Peter, by Francetco Mola.
St. Peter finding Money in the Fish's

Belly, by Caravaggio.
A Holy Family, by Fra Bartolammeo

(fine).
Apollo tending the Flocks of Admetus.

Rich landscape sceneiy : Mercury

announces to him his recall from

exile.

third room.

The Daughter of Herod ias witli the
Head of St. John, by Guido. She
holds it on a salver, and her coun-
tenance is full of compassion, and
beams with sweetness.

Wild Beasts attacking Men on Horse-
back, by Rubens. A tiger tliat has
leapt on the back of a horse has
seized the rider by the shoulder, —his
alarm is finely expressed : others are
attacking the beasts, and in one en-
counter the artist has stolen an idea
from Hercules and the Nemean
Lion.

Christ and the Woman of Samaria, by
Baroccio,

Cleopatra dissolving the Pearl to the
Health of her Lover, by Guido.

A Vestal, by Carlo Maratta.

The Crucifijcion of St. Peter, by Guido.
Small — the premiere pensre of that
in the Vatican.

The Crucifixion of St. Andrew, by the
same.

A Virgin and Child, by Del Sarto.

The Judgment of Paris, by Giulio Ro-
mano.

A Rabbit, by Albert Durer (beauti-
fully executed).

A Holy Family, by Carlo Maratta,

Observe a large ivory Ecce, by Michael
Angela.

FOURTH ROOM.

Two Ecce Homos, and a Head of the
Madonna and of St. Peter, by Guido.

Another Ecce, by the divine pencil of
Dolce.

A Female Figure reading, by Carlo
Maratta.

Two very fine Landscapes, by Agostino
Tutsi.

Polyphemus seizing a young Shep-
herdess (a story from Ariosto). Mark
the palsied tremor and fright of a
shepherd youth.

Christ at the Well, by Guercino. An
extremely rich and noble painting.

A Holy Family, by Parmegianino.
Small; fine.

FIFTH ROOM.

Several Portraits by the first masters.

SIXTH ROOM.

A Virgin and Child. Nature and truth
are in every touch and trait.

David with the Head of Goliath —
school of Guido.

A large and beautiful Landscape, by
Gaspar Potusin.

Anotlier charming Landscape, in which
the artist has assembled together the
most beautiful objects in nature. A
waterfall occupies the centre of the
scene ; on each side, lofty trees ; in
the distance to the lefi, the sea and
shipping ; mountains are perceived
in the distant background, and flocks
and herds give animation to the de-
lightful scene.

St. Sebastian, by Rubens.

Two fine Landscapes, by Orixonte,—
that to the left is particularly so.

Gamblers, by Caravaggio.

Susanna and the Elders, by Domeni''
chino.

Judith with the Head of Holofemes,
by Delia ^'otte.

The Death of Seneca, by Caravaggio.
The subject is meagrely conceived :

iU

APPENDIX ROME CHURCHES.

t' :• ^ ^t :". -J »:.jT..'> ..<t" ', '....- -pny.

1 •■ ^•. • r • :> -' :. t v ; ;i. i: ♦ <vyK-ri .i r,

;i' : ■ t't -!'•- • >■ • . • I* •''» t. L^s.^t

:• • - : t'> '.ft " " i^^ :n .
A r ' r ' :i, \ /-- : v / - i .' :ct.
>\. 'r' ' - . "' \ ** .«'. '• " . 11< ■»* «.'tV:n

-'•--• c :': 't : ::.*^ "i.^ ?-\' ct,

!". •. V, t\ ^ • ..^"w^x^s NaT. '\ : I r . Nc

>:. .' . '. :r. t ,- N\ .'. :• rr> ^<, h\ C .'a-

• j_ .. >»- 1*' i r. X' r j'M'.i.'i, bis
I -• -- > •>•: V'.: J a;. -I i.ovtl, yet

"-F'. r \ ": :• :. • v..

• '- K -

t V /' • ,. A^t:\r>rt-:i ^.rjri.e
•»■" .• t\ lIti; -:t\ t . lie: ".\ ! ar: \ c-j-. er<
t ' r.

M ..

Ar. I..!-'i"r. ^y 7'r ,ur>. A ^NonMn is

A H'-y l'.tr..;.\ . by .^^•^/.'^ 5 P"?/<</'/.
Tw" ri'.ii Landscape?, nmiu Tuuits, by

Ii. t^t I'Ai.A77n Br. \-i in, voM ><re the
\ :r_ii) v\;*Ji A: _' ".^. bv Mm-'//,'.

Ti.e .M;-n.\ ot' I'.t. Lt^.ivto and riNtU'<,
ru (i ".r M.irr;a4t; in Lar.a, by Ga-

Tl.t M.rr; ijr ^'t St. Catliermt-, by Fru
i> rt-''.0'iin<t (>.

Tne Woman taken in Adulterv% bv

A Cri.Citixion, by Tintoretto,

Cmm-^i ,iik1 ilie \ ir-^in, by (hndo.

Ani.ttijer of the s.inu', by SasiiiUrrati.

^iati>es of P.ilLis, Ceres, Ccmmodus,
nn«j Acbillt-s.

The arms of tliis family consist of an
e^_'ie and stirs, witli a puffof wind
blovvmz 'jpon a bly, upon which
the |>oet Monti made the following
epi-^nim :

Rrjdf nqiiiliim imperio, Francornm lilia

Siitra rt'ddf Polo, catera Braiche fiia.

In the M\<^iMi Palacf. there is an
admirable antiqiie statue of a Dis-
cubul.is, and some frescos bv Cara-

Tiie Si'vnv Paiacf contains a portrait
of Htalnce C\'nci,by Pan! 1'iTom'$<.

T;me di>co\truuj: Truth, by Albani.

Jac'->b at the N\ ell, by Sicolas Fouiisin.

A Moliier and Child ; and a Musi-
cian — by ( \ir(ivng<:io.

Christ before Pilaie, by DtUn Xotie.

The Flicht of Helen, and Portrait of
Cvirdmal Spada, by Guido.

Heaii<oftvvo Hoys, by Cor-rffio.

Jacob at the Well, by Sico/as Fon^sin,

r)i(h» on llie Funeral Pile, by Guer-
ciiut.

The Statue of Pompcy mentioned as
bt'ni.istdl here by Mrs. Starke, was
bou»:ht by his (irace the Duke of
Devonshire some time ago.

CHIUCIIES.

In the Pi v/7\ oi Svn CiiovANM
T\i rii \Ni) stands the lar,:Gsl obelisk
in all Koine. It v\as erecte»i at
Tl.ebts n:ore than tliree thousand
Years a'j;o by Kaineses, km^: of
Ivjvpt, and \Nas dedicated to the
sun. Its heiuht is ninety-nine feel,
\%ithout reckoiiing its ba>e and
pedestal.

N.ar the l>a^ilick of St. John you tind
tlie Bapti>tery of Con>tantine, so
called fioin beinoj the place where
this enijieror received baptism from
Pojje St. Sihoter. Tiie baptismal
fonts are formed by an antique urn
of basalt. 'I'hese fonts are surrounded
bv an octangular balustrade, and

covered with a cupola, sustained on
two rows of columns placed one
tipon another. Between the ])ilasters
of the second tliere are eivzht paint-
inu><, represent ini;;; passas^es of the
history of the Blessed Virijin and of
St. John the Baptist: they are by
the pencd of Andna Sacchi. The
frescos on the walls are by Gtmig-
utinij J I tdnidsstij Cur/o ^larattay
and ^luinu'/ii.

Thl Basilick or St. John Laterax.

The colossal statue of C'onstantine in the
grand portico was found in his Daths.

APPENDIX ROME — CHURCH ES.

415

The interior is divided into five isles
. by four ranges of pilasters, and in
the inter -pilasters of the middle
nave there are twelve niches, orna-
mented with statues of the Twelve
Apostles, between columns of verd
antique ; they are by Le Gros.

This temple contains one of the most
magnificent chapels in Rome. Cle-
ment XII. erected it in honour of
St. Andrew Corsini, one of his an-
cestors, whose name it bears. It is
the first to the left on entering the
church. The altar-piece is a fine
mosaic copy of Guido*i portrait of
the saint. On the frontispiece stand
the statues of Innocence and Peni-
tence, sculptured by Pinceliotti,
Above, you see a bas-relief, wherein
the saint is represented defending
the army of the Florentines at the
battle of Anghieri. The great niche
situated beside the Evangile con-
tains the beautiful mausoleum of
Clement XII., where you find the
superb antique urn of porphyry
which formerly stood in the portico
of the Pantheon, and is supposed to
have contained the ashes of Agrippa.
Opposite, you see the Tomb of
Cardinal Neri Corsini, the uncle of
Clement XII. with his statue, that
of a Genius, and another of Religion,
seated, — all by the masterly chisel
of Maini,

Observe, about the middle of the grand
aisle, the bronze Tomb of Martin V.,
and the two superb columns of Ori-
ental granite which support the grand
arch of this nave.

The high alar is placed \n the middle
of the transepts. It is ornamented
with four columns of granite, which
bear a Gothic tabernacle, in which is
kept, amongst its most remarkable
relics, the heads of the apostles St.
Peter and St. Paul.

At the bottom of the cross you find the
splendid altar of the Holy Sacra^
ment. It is decorated with a taber-
nacle formed of precious stones,
placed between two angels of gilt
bronze and four columns of verd
antique. The entablature and pedi-
ment of gilt bronze, which crown the
altar, rest on four fluted columns of
the same metal. These are believed
by antiquaries to be the same that
Augustus caused to be made after the

battle of Antium, from the stems of
the Egyptian vessels captured, and
' which Domitian afterwards placed
in the Capitol. Above, you see a
painting of the Ascension by the
Chevalier D'Arpino, whose tomb
you find behind the Tribune, and
near to that of Andrea Sacchi.
In this church you likewise see the
Tomb of Boniface VIII., remarkable
for a fresco by Giotto, representing
this Pope, between two Cardinals,
proclaiming on the balcony the first
jubilee of the Anno Santo.

The Holy Stairs and Chapel of
THE Sakcta Sanctorum.

To Drevent these stairs from being
wholly worn out, Clement XII.
covered them with walnut -wood.
This also having been worn aiyay by
the knees of the fiiithful, has been
lately renewed. There are twenty-
eight in number, and are pretended
to have been brought from Pilate's
house at Jerusalem.

Following the circuit of the ancient
Aurelian wall, you come to the Ba-
silica OF THE Santa Croce — so
• called from St. Helen depositing in
it a portion of the Holy Cross, which
she found at Jerusalem. The grand
altar is bolated, and four beautiful
columns of coralline breccia sustain
the baldacchino.

The ceiling of the Tribune was painted
in fresco by Pintttricchio, That of
the church itself is by Giitquinto,
as well as the two paintings in the
lower part of the Tribune. The
pavement b antique.

To see the remains of the Amphi-
TBEATRO Castrensi:, you must
pass out of the Porta San Giovanni,
and turn to the left, bv the wall. It
was called Castrense, because it was
destined for the combats of the
soldiers against wild beasts, and for
the celebration of military festivals.

Close by, but inside of the walls, stand
the ruins of the Temple of Venus
and Cupid ; and at a short distance,
the Porta Maggiore passes under the
Aqueduct of Claudius.

416

APPKNDIX ROME — CHURCHES.

The Tortx Ma(.giore.

This beautiful j^ate is built of larq:e
blocks of iravirlMif, witliout mortar,
au<l was ('rt'( led by Titiis, to d( co-
rate the point whore tlie ancitnt
Prcnestiin' and I.ahican roads di-
vided. The water wliu h sunplies
tho Fountain of Mon^s pierces tlie
sides of one of its arches.

Tin? ruins of otlier arpieducts which
passed towards llie Ks(|uibue Hill,
are to be SJ.'tii in this neighbour-
hood.

PasNinir hence, in the direction of Santa
INlaiia Matruioii', you pnceive in a
\ in«'vard tiic luins of the Temple of
Minerva Mediea.

The form of this temple is that of a
decagon, and measures '2'22 feet on
its onur cireumreienc e. \N ithin,
are nine niehes for >tatu«'s. Besides
the famous statue of Muierva wliich
was found here, and whuh aflbrded
the appropriation to the edifice,
olh'Ts of I'.seulapius, Pomona,
Adonis, \ onus, l''auiius, Ib-rcules,
and Antinoiis, likewise diitj fmm its
ruins, attest the ore^inal niagnihecnce
of this temple.

The same vmevard encloses two ancient
tombs e.died Columbaria, ironi their
resemblance to dov»'-C()ts. One was
eonstructi'd by laicms Arruntius, a
consul under Tiberius, as a burial-
place for his atlVanchised slaves; the
other was a a sepulchral chamber for
diireienl pleheian families.

Cnnu II or Sr. Biiuan \.

The thr«'e aisles of this church are se-
j>arated by ei^ht antupie columns.
The ceilmu over tlie middle ai^^le is
painted in fresco. I'hose to the riulit
on enteriii'^ are by ('/•/////»»•/// ; tho<He
opposiii> are by i-^" Coiti>n(i. They
all relate to the history of Saint
Hibian.i ; and the (iiand Altar is
adoined with her statue, by the
maslt'rly chisel of Ikruiui. A su-
perb antupie urn of oriental ala-
baster, containing the body of St.
Ibbiana, stands below. I'nder this
church is the famous cemetery of
St. Anastasius, which contains the
bodies of i;U)0 martyrs.

Ciii'RcH OF San Lorenzo, cl»-iu: a
mile outside of the gate of tht iav^t
rid/ne.

This, which is one of the seven Bti^i-
licks of K^me, is decoraitd wi'ii a
Portico sup; orted on six aniifpio
columns, and adorned wiih fre>co?.
rejirestnting diti'erenl events m f^,e
hi'-tory of this martyr-saint. Tiie
Tribune is decorated with iwtbe
fluted columns of violet -coloured
marble, the capitals of which are ev-
ceedinj^ly beautiful. These columns
sustain an entablature composed of
different pieces, which are all en-
riched w ith ornaments of the mt?st
superb description. The Cirand
Altar is isolated, and omamenit-'J
with four columns of red Y)orph\rv,
supporting a baldacchino of marble.
I iKkr this altar is the C'ontV>>ion
of St. I^urence, which contains ms
bofly and that of the proto-icartyr
St. Stephen.

Returning to the city, and pas>ing
under the Arcii or (»allifn, you
come to the Piazza or Sta. Maria
Maggiore, in the middle of which
stand the magnificent fluted Corin-
thian column which belonired to t'le
I'emple of I'eace. It is tiftv-eijht
feet and a half high, including its
base and capital.

The Basilica or Sta.M. Magoiorf.

This gorgeous temple stands on the
top of the Ksquiline Hill, on the
rums of that of Juno Luciiia. It
was erecte^l under the pontificate of
St. Libero, by order of Giovanni
Patri/.i, in consequence of a vision
which lie had in the night, and which
was confirmed the next day by a
miraculous fall of snow on the otii
of August. The snow covered pre-
cisely the space on which the church
now stands, and hence its former
ap]»ellation of Sta. Maria ad Nives.

The appearance of this church in its
interior is truly majestic and noble,
it is divided into three naves by
thirty-six superb Ionic columns, be-
sitles the four of granite which sus-
tain the two great arches of the nave.

T\^o tombs ]iresent themselves on en-
tering ; the first to the right is that
of ( lomenti I\., the workmanship

AmaXDlX — AOMB — THE CHURCHES.

417

of XhadOf Faneeilif and Ferrata;
the other of Nichohu IV^ by Lta^
nardo de Sarzana. The splendid
chapel of the Holy Sacrament is by
FotUanOy and contains, besides the
Altar, the tombs of Sixtus V. and
Pius V. The statue of the first is
by VaiioldOf that of St. Francis by
fiaminio VaccOf and that of St. An-
thony of Padua by OUvieri, The
statue of Pius is by Sarzana, The
frescos which adorn this chapel are
by Pozzo HercoUnOf Nogarif Andrea
ofAncoHOf and C^uar Nebbia.
The Giand Altar is isolated, and formed
by a large antique sarcophagus of
porphyry, covered with a marble
table, supported at the four angles
by as many little angeb of gilt
bronze. This altar is surmounted
by a splendid baldacchino, which
Benedict XIV. caused to be made,
after designs by the Chtv. Fu^a, Jt
is sustained by four Corinthian co-
lumns of porphyry, surrounded by
gilt palm -leaves. The painting at
the Dottom of the Tribune is by
Mancini ; and the mosaics of the
grand arcaule, as well as those of the
middle aisle, representine different
subjects taken from the Old Testa-
ment, were made by order of Sez-

tus III. A.D. 434.

In the other aisle vou find the sump-
tuous Chapel of the Virgin, erected
by Paul v., after designs by Ponzio,
Here are two tombs decorated with
columns of verd antique, statues,
and bas-reliefs : that to the right is
of Paul V. whose statue is by SUla^
a Milanese artist. The statues in
the latend niches of St. Basil and
David are by ^icMos Coniiert. The
other tomb is that of Clement VIII.
His statue is likewise by SUia^ and
tlie two laterals of Aaron and St.
Bernard also by Cordieri. The
Altar of the Virgin is adorned with
four superb fluted columns of ori-
ental jasper, with bases and capitals
of gilt bronze : these support an en-
laUature, the frieze of which is of
agate, as also the pedestals of the
columns.

The Imaoe of the Virsin, which, it is
pretended, was made by the evan-
gelist St Lidce, is placed over a ta-
Mmade of lapis lazuli. It is enoom-
paased with pfeciooi stonesy and

supported by four angels of gilt
bronze. Upon the entablature of
the altar you see a beautiful bas-
relief of the miracle of the ftdl of
snow.
The frescos which are over and about
the altar, as well as those on the
arcade and on the arches of the
cupola, are by the pencil of D*Arpinof
those of the cupola, by Ludovico
CwoU : those on the sides of the
windows, situated above the two
tombs, aud those of the two arcades
above the transepts, merit more par-
ticular attention, from being by the
finished pencil of Guido,

Not &r from the Basilica of S. M.
Ma^iore stands the CHuacH of
St. Praxede. It is chiefly remark-
able for a superb painting by Gitdio
RomanOf of the Flagellation of Our
Saviour, which is in the Sacristy,
and for possessing, as it is pretended,
a portion of the column to which
Christ was bound when scourged.
This last is in one of the chapels of
the church.

Church of Sak Martiko.

This church deserves notice for the
landscapes painted on the walls of
the lesser aisles by Gamard Pous-
iin : the fig}>'^ a^^ by bis brother
Nichoias, The sculptures and paint-
ings in the Chapel of the Viigm are
by CavaUued, (Martyn.)

Church of Sam Pietro in Vincou.

This church was first erected in 442,
in the time of Pope St. Leo Uie
Great, by Eudoxia, wife of Valen-
tinian III. emperor of the West, to
preserve the chain with which St.
Peter was bound, by order of Herod,
when in the prison at Jerusalem.
The three naves of this beautiful
church are supported by twenty-two
antique fluted boric columns. Here
it is you find the tomb of Julius II.
designed by Michael An^do^ with
the celebrated statue of Moaes, by
the same great artist; also a painting
of St. Bfaigaret, by Gnenrmo.

H H

418

APPENDIX ROME THE CHl'RCHES.

In the Ciirncii or S. L; n.i ue' Fran-

i I •>! v(tu tuul some (.xctlltnt frescos
bv i>)«»///t//<V/////»», of St. Cecilia v:ivin<z
awny In r cUniies tj) il.e [ oor, her
(lealli, ;iii(l her iipoilicosis.

CiiLRCH or S. Andrfa a Monte

Cavallo.

The Cnicifixioii of St. ^Vndrew, hv

hcrcoisnorit:.
St. .Slaniblaiis, bv Carlo Morntta.

C'\ri(iiix ( Firn(H, near the Piazza
Bdjhtrini.

(iuiff(f'!i ceh-'hraled nrchaniiel Micliael.
St. Paul recei\in'j; Ins sight, by Pictro

(hi CorlufKt.
St. I'raiicis in Agony, by Ludovico

( '(iriicci.
()\(T ilie door is (liofto's cartoon of

the jN'avicella at Si. Peter's.

Santa IMauia I)L(.li Ant.i ii. — It
\va>; formed out of the Xystnrn of
the Hath^ of I)i()elelian into a church
by Mii/iai/ Austin.

The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian, by
])()///( nicliino.

The liaptisin of Clirist, by Carlo Ma-
rat ta.

Tlie 1-all of Simon Magus, by Pompco
liatloni.

Tlie satno subject, by another liand.

St. IVtcr raismg Tal)itha from the
Dead, l)y Placido Costatiza.

A Pr» sentation at tlie Temple, {hi j wed
and rt n/ dirtif).

Here also" is Hiamhinis Meridian, and
the Tombs of Salvator Rosa and
Cailo Maratta.

Cm U( H or S. Maria pem.a Vk-

ioi!iA,/'v the Fountain of the Ter-

mini.
The Trinity, by Guercino (fine). On

each side, a painting by Guido. —

Those u\ the second chapel are by

Donicnichino.
The Death of St. Theresa, a statue by

Bcniini.
The representation of the Last Supper

in gilt bronze, under the altar, is by

the same artist.

Cm nCH (»I THL Jt>LlTS (di Gcsiu,,

This ma'^niticeni lem]de is one of tlie
richest and mo^^l be.iuiifid in K«..nio.
It was erected by Cardinal AU\ jiwUr
Farne>e, attt-r dor^ns by I'li^tcUi,
and finished by his pupil DJla
Porta.

Over the altar of the cross to the ri^ht,
in l)ie mid^t of four columns, is a
]iainting by Carlo Maratta, repre-
sentincr the Death of St, Francis
Zavier.

The grand altar is decorated with four
l)eautiful columns of iiiallo nntuOj
and a beautiful painting of the Cir-
cumcision, bv J\Iu:i<ino.

The chapel of St. Ignatius, in the left
transept, is the most splendid and
rich in Rome. It is ornamented
with four superb columns cc^ited
with lapis lazuli, and striped with
gilt bronze.

The pedestals, entablature, and pedi-
ment, are of verd antique.

In the middle of the pediment there is
a group in white marble of the Holy
Trinity, sculptured by liernard Lu-
dovisi ; and ilie globe which God the
Father holds in his hand is esteemed
the finest morsel of lapis lazuli which
exists.

The picture of St. Ignatius over the
altar is by Perc Pozzij a Jesuit.

Two fine groups in marble adorn the
sides of the altar: the one repre-
senting Faith receiving the worship
of savage nations, is by Giovanni
Teudoni; tlie other. Religion with
the C'ross, trampling Heresy under
her feet, is by the chisel of Le Gros,

The paintings on the ceiling of this
chapel are by Baciccio,

Cm Kill OF thf.Tiumta i»r.* Monti
etMilaius Datiiil do ]'olttrrus famous
Di'Ncent from theCross.and Munlcr
t>f the Innocents, both frescos.

The Porta del Popolo was rebuilt
on the site of the ancient Flaminian
in 15(32, after designs by Bttonarotti,

APPENDIX — ROME — THE CHURCHE9.

41&

The Church of St. M. del Popolo,
and whence the gate hard by deriTes
its name, owes its cognomen to the
circumstance of its being built in
the 13th century, at the expense of
the Roman people.

Over the Grand Altar there is an image
of the Virgin, painted by Si. Luke,
In the first chapel on the right is a
beautiful Nativity, by FetUuricddo^
and in the second, a Conception,
by Carlo Maratta. In a chapel to
the right of the grand altar, you see
an Assumption, bv Hannibal Caracci;
and on either side two paintings b^
CaravaggiOt representing the Cruci-
fixion of St. Peter and the Con*
▼ersion of St. Paul.

But the most remarkable is the chapel
of the Chigi fiunily, dedicated to
Our Lady of Loretto, decorated
after designs by RtwhaeL The altar-
piece was begun oy Dtl Piombo,
and finished by Salvtati, The figures

' of David and Aaron in the lunettes
over the tombs are by Vanni, Here
also are four Statues; two are by
the masterly chisel of Bernini, re-
presenting Daniel in the Lions' Den,
and Habakkuk with the Angel ; the

' two others, which represent the pro-
phet £lias,and Jonas and the Whale,
are by Lorenzetto. — ^The last is par-
ticularly esteemed from being ex-

' ecut^ under RaphaeFt own eye.
Close to this chapel is the magni-
ficent tomb of the Princess Odes-
calchi Chigi, after designs by Pott;
and the elegant architectural orna-
ments you see at the eastern extre-
mity of the church are by Samavino,

Church of San Carlo al Corso.

Over the high altar, the Apotheosis of
San Carlo, by Carlo Maratta.

In the third chapel to the right, St.
Baroaba, by Francesco Mola,

Here likewise is a mosaic copy of Carlo
Maratta $ painting of the Conception,
in the church of S. M. del Popolo.

The Statue of Judith is by Le Brun,

Church of San Lorenzo in Llcina,
by the Cafe Ntuwo,

Christ on the Cross, hy Guido.
Nicholas Poussin lies buried here.

Church of the Santissiici Apos-
TOLi, tff the Piaxxa of the tame name.

Observe the fine fresco on the ceiling
of the Tribune, which represents
the rebel angels driven out of heaven,
by Odazxi,

The Crucifixion of St. placed

over the high altar, by Muratori, —
Remark its skilful composition.

Here you see the tomb of Clement
XI v., by the chisel of Canova ; and
under the vestibule is a monument
erected by Canova to his friend
Valpato.

In the Piazza di Monte Citoeio
the traveller will see the Solar Obe-
lisk brought by Augustus from
Hieropolis. It served as a gnomoh
to a meridian marked on the ground
upon a bronze dial.

In the Piazza di Pietea stands the
Custom-house, the fa9ade of which
is formed of the remains of the Tem-
ple OF Antoninus Pius. £leven
majestic columns support a mag-
nificent entablature of Greek marble,
in good preservation. These columns
formed part of the sides of a portico
which surrounded the temple ; they
are fluted and Corinthian.

The Pantheon in the Piazza della
Rotonda. - Eight columns in front
sustain the pediment of the portico,
witli three columns and one pilaster
on the sides. — ^They are all of granite,
and surmounted with Corinthian ca*
pitals. The pavement of the interior
IS of porphyry and giallo antico^
bordered with otlier precious marbles.
Here you see the tombs of Raphael,
Has. Caracci, Zuccheri, Vacca, and
the famous musician Corelli.

The opening in the centre of the dome
whicli lights tlie interior is 25 feet
in diameter.

Church of Sr Acmes, in the Piazza
Navona.

"An antique Statue, which, by a little
management, makes a fine St. S^

420

APPENDIX — BOMB — THB CmOMCOBM*

Opposite to thiB is a statue
of the Martyrdom of St Agoes.

Church of Sta. Maria sopra Mi-
nerva. — See a statue of Christy by
Mlchad AnMciOf which , though fine
as a statue, displays et vU et virtus
enough for a Hercules. The figure
is too athletic for the meek an4
peaceful character of the Redeemer,
and wants " the beauty of hoUoess''
to make it in character.

Church of Sant* Andrea della
Valle, near tk$ Teatro ddia VaUe^

Round the lower part of the ceiling of
the Tribune there are some charming

' fiiescos by Domeidchiwy. — The em-
blems of Hope and Charity are
especially fine^

The three Frescos on the walls of the
Tribune are by the energetic and
expressive pencil of II Calabrete,

The Cupola was painted by LanfrancOf
and represents the life of St. Ajndre^ ;
under which, at the comers, observe
the four Evangelists, by Domeni-
ehino.-^The St. John and St. Mat-
thew are charming figures.

In the first chapel to the left (the
Barberini) there is an excellent Visi-
tation, by Fassignani ; and note the
architecture of the chapel opposite,
(the Strozzi). — It is by mkhuel
Atigelo,

In the Church of the Santa Trinita
de' Pellegrini, you see the High
Altar-piece, representing the Tri-
nity, by Guido,

God the Father, a fresco, in the lan-
teni, is by the same artist.

Church of San Carlo a Catenari.

The ceiling of the tribune was painted
by Lar^ranco ; and the Cardinal
virtues in the angles below the cu-
pola are by Damenkhino.

Observe the personification of Fortitude.

The High Altar-piece, representing the
Procession of St. Charles Borromeo
in the plague of Milan, is by Da
Cortana,

The finoo behind it ofSt Cbuki is

by Guido,
The Death of St. Ann is hj Amkf

An Annunciation in the first cbspd

to the right, by hnframto.
An Assumption of the ViigiB in tba

sacristy, oy the same.

Church of San Giovanni de*

FlORENTINI.

Remark the entablature of the doors.
The High Altar was designed by Dm

Cortona^ but finished by Ciro Ferri.
The Martyrdom of Sts. Cosimo and

Damiano is by Salvator Rouu
The St. Jerome is by Cigoii,
The frescos are by Pomeranda,
One of the chapels was painted by

Ztot^ranco.

In the Church of Sant* AcooTiva
there is a painting of the Prophet
Isaiah on one of the pilasters of the
nave, by Raphael; and a Corooa-
tion of the Virgin, by LanfranoK

Our Lady of Loretto is by Caraoe^gm.

The paintings in the Chapel St. Ao-
gustio are by Guercmo.

On the top of the Monte Capitolino
is the Church of Sta. Maria
d' a a AC ELI, erected on the spot
where formerly stood the Temple of
Jupiter Capitolinus. An anoent
legend tells, that at the time of die
birth of Jesus Christ, Augustus
caused an altar to be erected in this
temple, and called it Ara Primih
geniti Dei, whence, they say» this
church took its name of AraoeIi,aDd
vestiges of which are sUH to be seen
in the transverse nave. The large
columns of Egyptian granite which
divide the naves are thought to
have belonged to the original temple.
On the third to the left, on entering
by the principal door, you read.

Temple of Fortuna Virilis, now
the Chuech of S. M. Egizziaca.

Close by is the ancient Temple or
Vesta, now consecrated to the Ma-

ATBEHDIX — aOBIB — THB CHURCHES.

421

donna del Sdc^ and the opeDing of
the Cloaca Maxima into the Tiber. —
Tliia common sewer of Rome, thought
to be as ancient as the time of Tai^
qninius Priscu8» is fourteen feet high,
by as many in width.
S. M. IN CosMEDiN, in this neighbour-
hood, is built on the niins of the
Temple of Pudicitia, or Modesty : it
is here you see the Bocca dtlla
VerUa.

CnvacH OF S. GaEOoaio (on Monte

Celio),
The ceiling was painted by Gtddo;
but what claim the principal em-
phasis of the Ttsitor's attention, are
the rival frescos of Gtddo and Do'
meniehino. That of the first of these
celebiated artists represents St. An-
drew on his way to suffer Martyr-
dom; the second, his Flagellation.
The paintings of St Peter, St. Paul,
and of four Saints, in the Chapel of
St. Silvia, are also by Gukh.

On the ceiling of this chapel you see a
Concert of Angels, by the same great
master.

S. Maria m Valicella.

The frescos in the Dome are bv Gior-
dano, those in the vault of the nave
by Da Cortona,

The Entombing of Christ, a copy from
Caravaggio*

The Virgin, Christ, St Charles, St.
Ignatius, and Angels, by (^lo Ma-
ratta,

San Filippo Neri, by Guido,

Three paintings at the high altar, by
Rubens,

A Presentation and a Visitation, by
Baroccio,

An Annunciation, by PosiijgfMDit.

The statue of St. F. Neri in the sacristy,
and his bust over the door, are by
Algardi ; and the ceiling, by Pietro
da Cortona, (Martyn),

Cborch ofS. Stefamo Rotomdo,

Commonly designated the Temple of
Claudius; but it seems more pro-
bable, from its incongruous archi-
tecture, to be a building of a more

modem date, erected, in the twilight
of the arts» from spoils taken from
other edifi(>BS. Some have ascribed
it to Pope St. Sireplicius, and by
him dedicated to the first martyr.
Tliis church, in its interior, preserves
an idea of the majesty of the ancient
temples. It is supported by fifty-
eight columns, some Ionic, others
Doric, principally of granite, which,
from being unequal in hei^^t, and
unlike in their ornaments, counte-
nances the idea of their being the
pillage of purer specimens of archi-
tecture. The paintings on the wall^
between the intercolumniations are
by Pomarando and Antonio Tern-
petta.

The Churcb of St. Sabiva, on the
Aventine Hill,po6sessesa round black
stone, which the Devil threw at St.
Dominick to frighten him from his
prayers ; also an Altar-piece of Christ
and the Holy Virgin, with Saints
and Angels, by Sauoferrati,

Tliereare fbur chnrches on the opposite
side of the Tiber, besides St Peter's,
that deserve notice : vii.

Sant' Ohofbio contains the ashes of
Tasso ; three histories of St. Jerome,
and other pieces, by Domtmekino ;
and Our l!adv of Loretto, by Hidoi.
Caracci. (martyn^

Santa Maria in Trastbverb.

See a fine Assumption of the Virgin,
supported in lier ascent by infiint
angek, on the ceiling of the nave, by
Uiomemchmo,

St. John in the Wilderness, of Raphaefs
school.

In a chapel to the left of the tribune,
there are two fine frescos by Dome-
nichino : one, a Council of Cardinals
and Doctors of the Church, in the
foreground of which stands the per-
sonification of Roman Catholicism
trampling Here<y under her feet,
surrounded by the allegories of the
Chrbtian fiuth; the other, a Pope
•blessing the Scriptures, as authen-
ticated and approved by the Council.

A Holy Family.

422

APPENDIX ROME BRIDGES, BATHS, &C.

A Communinn.

The Mov.iic in the tribune is very fine,
alihoiijli ni!tiO!il,arnl rt presents Jesus
(hriNi arul the H«']y X'irjin st-aitj
bv o.ith oll.ir, with other ticnrt-s on
tMch <\(\t' : that ol the X'lrjin is both
LT.ict ful anil iK'autiful.

lliLM-e is another Mosaic more ancient
still, reprt'^intinii Ducks and Wild
Fowl ft'rdin'j, designed with great
lift- and nature.

S\NTA Maria dflla Pace.

Tlie \'i*it of Mary to Elizabeth, by
Carlo Mtirdtia.

Tlie F*resentation of the Virgin at the

Temple, by Pin/zzi.
Tilt' iJirtii of the \ ii\;in, by J'dnni.

On ihe ct. ilin^; of the tribune there is
an Assumption, by Alhimi ; and on
each side, an Anntincialion and Ado-
riition of the Sliej)herds, by P</s-
siiinani.

In the transept, fiicino; the Maratta,
the Deatli of the \'iri:in,by Momnft',
and the Adoration of the Shepherds,
by .S( riuoiu Id.

See two fmc Heads on copper in tbe
tribune; and near the door, Rup/nir/'s
Sil)yl>. and Prophets predicting the
future Messiah : the two figures of
the prophets to the left struck me
most.

St. Crni ia in TnA<Ti.vr.ni:.

The Decollation nf St. CcLilia over the
hi^h altar is attributed to Cmitlo ;
antl an Llrjai.t rtenmbcnt statue of
lur IS by the cinsil o^ ^ImUini.

J'our h.mdsonu' colun-iis "f mio ami
bitimo luitico ailoin the huh altar,
under which l:e the ri minis c»f St.
C teib.i.

Till Hit I"-

Are tilt Aventine, rapitv»!i!^\ i\!- u\
l\S'|i:iline. Palatine, l^ev m'. .uivl
\ imni.d : boidis \Vc J.e-ic. •!■••.•.»,
\ .Uie.r . .ii'd PiiU'.»n.Me"UA v ..o\»,

i ittM lO. ai'vl 1\ >.t.,vA.O.

Tilt PoN'^ \\-. ^ t. i •. X-.-. .1 •. v IVe.
I'.ni.i.... . x, . \i »'..-»

PoNTE S. AxGELO, ancientlv the PotjS

.Klius.

PoNTF. Centio, or S. Bartoiom vr*:*,
and the Ponte (^ixtro C4rr, an-
ciently Pons Fabricius, join the I>':«'i
Tiberina to the Trastevere and t?;e
city.

Ponte Sisto, anciently the Pons Ja-
niculensis.

The Ancient Bridges in ruin? are ;
the Pons Tnumphalis, below the
Ponte S. Anc^elo ; the SuMieiari
Bridcje, and the Senatorian Brni^'tr,
now called Ponte Uoito, stand btlow
the Isola Tiberina.

CiRCl'SES.

CiRcis Max I MI'S, in the valley be-
tween the i*alatine -and A^entine
hills.

Ciiiri <; or Flora, now occupied by
the Pi.izzii Barberini.

CiRcrs Flaminiis, at the foot of the
Tarpeian rock.

CiRcis Agonalis, in the Piazza Na-
vona.

Cnuis OF Caracaila, near the
church of S. Sebastian.

Baths.

Cat lis OF TiTis. — The vaults and
corridors underground were painted
in arabesrjue, from which, it is sanl,
Kaphat'l took the idea of his paint-
ings in the Ix^jj^gie in the \ atican.

B\ni^ OF Diocletian, near the
church of S. M. degli Angeli.

The B\Tii<^ or Caracalla are at the
f. ot ol' the Aventine Mount. They
io?ita!ne<l '2300 cells, wherein as
UKinv per>ons inii:ht bathe at the
> inu' tinie.witiiout seeing each other.

F<UN tains.

l.'v v". e in the Piazza N.ivona is the
!"o>i '.'• umneuit. It is constructed
v'l ,; \.iNi ivvk. on which an obelisk
i> *. "u'. !. At the foot of the rock
v\''v'>N.'' "^u^ -es are seated, reprcsen-
1 1. K v"' lA Nile, Dariube, C»aiiizes,

APPJENDIX — NAPLES-^ THB-8TUDJ.

423

and La Plata, with their attributes.
Bernini furnished the design.

FonTANA Dr Termiki, oppoiite the
church of S. M. della VUtoria."-'.
The colossal figure of Moses is b^
Bresdano^ fWattawasthe archi-
tect. Remark the lions in basalt.
They formerly stood under the por-
tico of the Pantheon.

Foutana di Trevi, o/ the end of the
Via de Crociferi, — The statuary is
by Nicola Salvi, It furnishes the
only water which now comes to
Rome by an ancient aqueduct.

Mausolea.

Castle of St. Amoelo, anciently the
Mausoleum of Hadrian. The great
room is ornamented with arab^ue
frescos, by Giulio Romano^ Pienno
del Vaga, and other pupils of
Raphael.

Mausoleum of Augustus is not
fi&r from the church of San Carlo,
between the Corso and the Tiber.
It stood in the ancient Campus
Martins.

The Anton IN E Column, the shaft of
which is 106 feet high, stands in the
Piazza Colonna.

Trajan's Column, in the Forum of
this emperor, the shaft of which is
92| feet in height, and 128 includ*
ing the pedestal. Pofydortu was the
artist who executed the sculpture.

works of Phidia$ and Prasitelet i
they were found in Constantine's
Baths.

By the Piazza Montanara stand the
ruins of Marcellus's Theatre,
and in this neighbourhood also is
the Portico of Octavia, now the
Pescaria, or Fish-market.

Visit the Sepulchre of the Scipios,
near the Baths of Caracalla.

See the colossal statues of Castor and
Pollux on the Monte Cavallo, the

Suburbs.

Tomb of Caius Cestius, in the form
of a pyramid : it is a curiosity,
as being the only one in Europe.
Cestius was purveyor for the feasts
of the goda^^Septemvir Epulorum,

The Church OFST.SEBASTrAN contains
a recumbent statue of this martyr,
by Giorgetti^ Bernini's master. Un-
der the church are the catacombs,
which they say extend forty miles :
they were originally quarries of Poz-
zuolana. They served for burial-
places of the heathens, and after-
wards of the Chrbtians. {Martyn.)

Tomb of Cecilia Metella.

The Obelisk now in P. Na?ona for-
merly stood in the Circus of Cara-
calla, close by the tomb of Cecilia.

The Fountain of the Nymph £gb-
ria you find near the church of
S. Urbano alia Cafiarella ; and in thb
vicinity, the Temple which the Ro-
mans erected to Ridicule when
Ilannibal quitted Rome.

Near the Circus of Caracalla there is a
round Temple, supposed to be that
of Virtue and Honour.

NAPLES.

The most remarkable Statues and Paintings in the Studj.

gallebt of the statues.
A Peasant with a Rabbit over his

shoulder.
A wounded Amazon falling from her

horse.
A wounded Gladiator.
Two Statues of Wrestlers.
Balbus the son, an equestrian statue.
The mother of Balbus.
Balbus the father, also an equestrian

.ctatue.

A youthful Bacchus (of heroic pro-
portions).

Another Bacchus, still more elegant.

A beautiful group of Cupid and
Bacchus.

Group of Apollo with a Swan.

Ceres in search of Proserpine.

Venus reproving Cupid.

A Faun with the infant Bacchus on his
shoulders.

A Statue of Minerva.

434

APPENDIX — NAPLES— THB STUM.

Augintin uOitAf his temples bound

with bays,
Agrippina the mother of Nero^ sesledy

(124).
CUittdius seated^ ftom Hercabmeam.

FIRST ROOM out of the Gallery,
No. 208. Flora (a semi-colossal statue).
No. 209. The Torso Famese.

SECOND ROOM.

Observe a Tripod Altar, in rouo antko.

A colossal Statue of Apollo, in por-
phyry (220).

A Statue of bounteous Nature — the
head, hands, and feet, are of bronze.

No. 207. A Faun making too fiee with
a female.

No. 212. Apollo seated — drapery of
porphyry.

Nos. 218, 225. Two pedestals formed
of Dacian captives kneeling; the
drapery of parti-coloured marble.

HALL OF THE YEN USES.

The most beautiiiil are those of Venus
Genitrix (No. 297), Venus Maritima
(307), and Venus seated (314).

In the centre of the room stands a fine
statue of Cupid «

HALL OF ATLAS.

Statue of Aristides (374).

Observe two handsome Candelabra.

HALL OF AHTXMOITS.

A beautiful Vase with double handles,
several fine busts, and an elegant
statue of Antinous .

LAST ROOM.

An UDright Statue of a Hermaphrodite.

Cupia riding on a Dolphin, and

The celebrated Venus (Jallepygis.

The celebrated Toro Famese (497),
and the no-Iess-celebrated Famese
Hercules (498), are in the gallery
of the Toro.

ROOM OF THE BROHZE BUSTS AND
STATUARY.

Statues of two Deer.

A Faun dnmk, leaning on an empty

wine-bladder.
Statue of a Horse, from Hereulaneum*
Mercury seated, also from Hercula-

neum.
A Faun asleep.
The Pythian Apollo, from Pompeii

Busts of Ptolemy Philoroetor, Se-
neca, Heraclitus, Ptolemy Soter,
Democritus, Antinous in the cha-
racter of ^cchus, Sappho, Scipio
Africanus, Plato, Ptolemy Phila-
delphus.

THE PAlHTfNOS.

Christ at Emmans, by Deila NaUe.

A Head, and a Portxait of Himself, by
Jtienwrondt'

A fine Pieta, by Boimmo,

A Magdalen, by TUian.

A fine Head, by Giargume.

St. Euphemia, by AtJ^ta MomUgma.

The Finding of Moses, by Titiam.

Christ appearing to his Disciples after
his Resurrection, by Giowmmi Bel-
lino. The figures are fine and ex-
pressive, and the drapery nsnmkably
well cast.

The Raising of Lazaras, by Bossaiio.

The Guardian Angel, by Domemiekima,

A Holy Family, by Del Piambo (18).

A Queen giving food and raimeot to a
naked figure, by Schidone.

A Magdalen, and a St. Peter, by^ Gtwr-
cino.

An In&nt Jesus asleep, surrounded by
the emblems of the passion, by
Guido,

Cain slaying his Brother.

St. Anthony receivins the Infent Christ
in his arms from tne Virgin.

The Baptism of Christ, by AlhanL

Angels administering to Christ in the
Wilderness.

The Martyrdom of St. Bartholomew.

A Descent fix>m the Cross, by GtBrt^-
fob (20).

The Schiana of Caracct (22).

Danae, by Titian (36).

Cupid embracing his MoOier,by Bnns-
zino.

Hercules between Virtue and Viee^ by
JEfoit. Coroori.

Pan and Diana seated in a wood.

Four small oval paintings, by Bnpi»-
jRno, of Apollo and Da^me, Bacchus
and Ariadne, Venus and liars,
and Omphale teaching Hercules to
spin.

An Assumption, by ¥r^ Bm-tokm-
meo.

Abraham entertaining the three Aiigeis.

Below this, a Holy Family.

A very fine Pieta, by Han, Caracei,

The rail of Simon Mi^us, by Iistniifli
Caracci,

A Lute-player, by Agotiino C^rmxi,

St. Cecilia, by Sktut^errM,

A Noli me tangere (fine, but difty\ by
one of the Coroca.

Two grouj^ of Angels pb^ing oe
stringed instniments, by Corr^gis.

APPENDIX NAPLES — ROYAL PALACE.

425

A Holy Faintly, by Parmegiano, This
is a species of cartoon. The Infant
Christ is asleep, whilst his mother
vratches, kneeling, by his side.
A. Portrait of a beautiful young female,
over whose left shoulder a brown
ferret is biting her finser; Portraits
of Columbus and of Americanus
Vespucci, — by the same.
A Holy Family (fine), by Del Sarto.
Charity, a Cupid, and a Sbozzo, by
SchuUme*

Marriage of St. Catherine, by Corrtgio.

A Female asleep, with an infant in her
arms, in rich landscape scenery ; and
an Ecce Homo, — by the same.
The latter is like an enamel, it is so
delicately touched.

Two Boys laughing, by Parmegiano.

Gipsies telling a credulous clown his
fortune ; and two Sharpers cheating a
youth at cards, — by Car<tvaggw.

Peter denying Christ, by 'Delta Notte,

A Storm and Shipwreck, by Vemet,

Two Landscapes, by Salvator Ro»a.

A rich and beautiful Landscape, and
Sunset, by Claude, The first has
the luxuriant greenness of spring ;
the last is painted in his usual mel-
low tone.

A Holy Family, and a Madonna aud
Child, by Raphael

Another Holy Family, by the same

great artist, where the inftint has his

foot on the cradle.
A third Holy Family, by Raphael, in

which the Infiuit Jesus stands on

his mother's knee, speaking to an

Infant St. John.
A fourth Holy Family, by the same,

in which the Virgin rests her hand

on the head of St. John.
Over this, observe a fine copy of the

Seggiola, by Giulio Romano,
A Virgin and Child, and a St. Jolm

(similar to that in the Louvre), by

Da Vinci.
A Holy Family, by Del Sarto.
Portrait of the Queen of Francis tlie

First, by Da Vinci.
Portraits of his Mother, Leo X., &c.,

by Raphael.
A superb representation of the Resur-
rection, by Rajgi.
The above is placed between an alle-

gorical painting and a Circumcision,
y Vatari.
Sileuus drunk, by Spagnoletto.
A highly finished copy in oil of M.
Angelo's Last Judgment, by VenaUi.

On tables in the centre of one of the
rooms stand motlels in cork of P»s-
tum, Uerculaneuni, and Pompeii.

Paintiiigs in toe Royal Palace at Naples.
[To tee the interior ^ an order %» neceifory.]

FIRST room.

The Death of Cesar, by Cantucini.
Painted in the style of the modern
French school.

The Death of Viiginia, by the same.

Susanna and the Elders, by Ro$to.

Venus recumbent, in rich landscape
scenery, by Luca Giordano. '

Christ bearing his Cross to Mount Cal-
vary, preceded by the two thieves,
by // Caltthrete.

The Prodigal Son, by the same excel-
lent master.

Tlie Story of Rebecca, by Albani.

SECOND aooic.
The Four Seasons, a group, by Guide.
St. Francis, by Carlo Dolce.
A Virgin and Child, of great beauty

and softness, by Vanni.
Carita Grande, by Schidone.

Orpheus, by Caravaggio, in a rich style

of colouring.
Innocence, Religion, and another figure

of a Virtue, copied from Raphael,

by Hannibal Caracci.
The Story of Atalanta, by Guido.

THIRD ROOM.

St. Joseph asleep.

St. Rock, by Fiamingo.

St. Sebastian, by Pauignano.

St. John the Evangelist, by Domeni-

chino.
St. John the Baptist, by Matfredi.

FOURTH ROOM.

The Adoration of the Magi, by Carlo

Maratta.
Venus detaining Adonis as he prepares

to quit for tlie chase, by PaJovanino.

I I

i2(i

APPENDIX NAPLES CHURCHES-

Taitli, Hope, and Cliarily, copied from
Hapbael, by Han. Canicci.

I mil nooM.
A Noll me taugere, by Ciulio Romano.
Wiuis and llie Ciraces, by Tintoretto.
The I'lii^ht into Kgypt, by Akssandro

1 1/ re hi.
I.iicR'ti.i, by Sinnni da Ptaaro.
Si. Jolm ilie 13a[)iisl (Kne), by Ludo-

I <(•(» Canu'ci.

STANZA CIALLA.

Jacob and Rachael, by Vaccaro.
Venus and Adonis toying, by the elder

Falma.
Venus lamenting over the dead Body

of Adonis, by Cambiasi.
Orpheus charming the Beasts, by Vec-

caro.
A Venus, by Luca Gwrduno.

CHURCHES.

CATUrDRAL OF SaN GeNNARO.

The tine |\'iinlincr"< on tbe ceiling of the
navf are by SftutufidCy and rcprc-
s(Mit the Annuneialion, Visitation,
Adcr.uien of tlie Mat^i, Adoration
(A the Shepherds, and the Circnm-
(■i<ion.

In that part ofil\e church where formerly
stood tlie ancient Temple of Apollo,
observe tlie eeilini^ painted by .So/i-
;' int\ and the brads over the arches
bv I ucti (iiordiifio. Here, also, are
si \v\\\\ lonibs as old as the fourteenth
e<.ntui-y.

CnMMi o! San 0rNN\R0. — Remark
the superb cupola painted by Lan-
/'•(;/»(■<»; St. (iennaro coming out of
the rurnnee, by Spiii^nolt tto ; and
tlu> Statues of St. Peter and St.
Paul.

In a larje eiiapel to the right of the
viiaiul altar, there is a painting by
7 ).'".( ?;ji7.i'j.> : and in the left tran-
sept, luar the tomb of Innocent IV.
a \ uvin and Child with St. Ann, by

See tlie ronib of the unfortunate king
Andtvw, in the Haraballia Chapel;
aNo ihe pa>^an vase, used for the
lupti^Mial tout.

I in luii or TUF. Santi ArosTOLi.
C>\ei the door in the interior, the Pool

ol Sdoaiu. a tine architectural paint-

lUi^. b\ Hihi( tht.
The eel I log ot ihe nave was painted by

ihe >plendid pencil o( Lonlhwco.
The ivnu luintmus in the choir, icpre-

s<MMu»v; the Annunciation, Nativity,

Ihiih oJ tlu' \ «ix">« anil l»»r IVesen-

lation at the Temple, are by &>-
Uniene ; and the four Evangelists,
in the angles of the dome, by Lan-
franco.

In a chapel in the cross you see the
emblematical personification of four
Virtues, by Soiiwene ; and two paint-
ings on the side walls, by Gior-
dano.

Also in the cross observe two groups
of Children, from tbe playful chisel
of Fiamingo.

The high altar is enriched with precious
stones, on which observe a beautiful
tabernacle.

This church stands on the site of an
ancient temple of Minerva, erected
by Constantine before his conver-
sion.

Cm ncH OF Sax Ma rtino, Castle
St. Elmo.

The choir contains an unfinished Na-
tivity, by Guidoy (the artist died
before he could complete it), and the
four Cene, as they are called. The
first is by JMassimo, and represents
the preparation for the Supper ; the
second, the Last Supper, by a pupil
of the Veronese school ; the third
is the well-known Communion, by
Sprignolctto; and the last is by Carac'
ciolo^ and represents Christ appear-
ing to his Disciples after his Resur-
rection.

On the wall facing the high altar, you see
a very fine Pie ta, by Massimo ; Moses
and Elias (two remarkably expres-
sive frv^cos), by Sptipnoleito ; and

APPENDIX — NAPLES — CHURCHES.

427

Iwo Stataes of St. John the Baptist
and St. Jerome, bv Vaccaro,

Over the arches of the chapels are
fresco paintings of the twelve Pro-
phets, Dy SpagnolettOf but much in-
jured and &ded by time.

Id the chapel of St. Bruno are three
veiy fine paintings by Mammo,

The three in the Chanel of the Virgin
are by Francetco Mura,

A third chapel contains two by iSo^

In a fourth, the Baptism of Christ in
the Jordan, by Carlo Maratta,

A fifth contains paintings representing
transactions in the life of San Mar-
tino, by Mattimo.

In the Council Room —
A Flagellation, by the Chevalier D^Ar-
pino; and Chiist disputing in the
Temple, by a pupil ot Solimerte.

Id the Sacristy, round the arch of the
entrance leading to the Tesoro —

Christ descending from Pi1ate*s house:
the figures by Massimo, the archi-
tecture by Bibitna.

Over the opposite door, a Crucifixion,
by UArpmo; and Peter denying
Christ, by Caravagsio.

The Tesoro contains^x^no^^^o*! cele-
brated Pieta.

The panels of the Sacristy are of inlaid
wood-work, executed by a German
monk, delineating various perspective
views.

Note the view from the apartments of
the Custode.

PAIVTIMGS m TOE SACBISTY.

The Conversion of St. Paul, and the

Fall of Simon Magus, by Solimene.
The ceiling and side walls are by Co-

renzio.
Here, also, you see an Ecce Homo of

high finish, said to be by Titian : a

glass is before it.

Church of San Filippo Neri.

This is one of the handsomest churches
in Naples. Here you see Gior-
dano*s celebrated iresco of Christ
chasing the Money-changers from
the Temple.

Santa Teresa, by the same.

In the Sacristy are paintings by Spag-
nolettoj Domenichino, and Gtudo ;
and the ceiling is by Giordano,

Tlie paintings in the Chapel of San
Fihppo are by Solimene ^ and repre-
sent the Adoration of the Magi ; the
Purification; and Jesus before the
High Priest.

Over the altar is a painting of S. Filippo
kneeling, with an angel standing by.

On the ceiling of the chapel observe
the fine fiescos of Faith, Hope, and
Charity, and of the Saint in Gloiy,
by Solimene,

The Church of Santa Maria An-
num ziata, near the Capua Gate,
contains a sublime Pieta, by Spag-
noletio.

Church of San Paolo.

The Baptism of Christ, by Massimo,

Adoration of the Shepherds.

Adoration of the Magi.

Christ at Emmaus.

The Raising of Lazarus.

The Prodigal Son.

The Woman taken in Adultery.

The Woman of Samaria.

St. FiaiMib, by Guido,

The Grand Altar is of the finest marbles,
on which a tabernacle stands, of gilt
metal, enriched with precious stones
and columns of jasper. Observe,
also, the magnificent chapel of the
Prince of Sant* Agata.

Church of S. Domenico.

Observe the tombs. — In the Pinelli
Chapel there is a Titian ; and in the
Sacnsty, a Flagellation, by Cam-
vaggio, and a Glory, by Solimene,

Church of S. Maria Novella.

Observe an Assumption on the ceiling,
the chef-d'truvre of Saniafede,

Christ, Maiy, the Magdalen, and St.
John, by Marco di Siena, In this
church you also see two primilie of
Giordano, representing two angels,
painted when only eight years old.

128

APPENDIX — NAPLES — THE ENVIRONS.

Chi ncu or Svn Flrdixando.

V\\t tVvNios are ov Paul Mutttis,
T'.ic llij;!! Ali.ir-piece is by Solimcney
aiui tl)e siaiues of David and Moses

C'luucu or S. Brig IDA.

T\\c Cupola was painttd by Giordano.
In ilii> chuali is ilie ariisl's tomb.

C'lillUll riLlA PlETA 1>1:'T0RCII1M.

'V\)C Allar-pit'ce, by S*^/innm'.
r..o laiikrn, bv CitorJuno.

Ciii Km or S. M. pi Monte Oi ivno.

A Punt'uation, by I 'isari.
Am Assuniptioi). by Pinturuc/iio.
C)b«»vrNf some curious Statues in terra-
cotta, upresenting illuslrious cha-

racters of the 15th ceiitar\', b\
Modanino.

CnuRcii opGesu Nuovo, ofTcimta
Maggiore.

Over the grand entrance, Flelicniorrs
driven out of the Temple, a lun-e
fresco, by Solimenc.

In the Chapel of the Trinity, a paint-
ing, by Gucrcino.

The Chapel of the Virgin was paintt^l
by Soiimcne, and the Cupohi by
LanJ'ramo.

Cnuucn OF Santa Chiara.

It is here tliat the annual miracle of
the liquefaction of the blood is per-
formed.

The Hi'^h Altar-piece is by Tm ]\fura.

The fresco ])aint nt; of the Dome is
by Stba>itian Concttf and represents
a miracle of St. Clare.

Objects or Ciriosity in tht Environs of Naples.

lo uir wisT.

Tiie (Mvtto ot" IVsilipo ; the len^rth of
whuh Is jiUo t'eet, lis wiiltli 'Ji^aud
lis licmhi varies from -24 to 89 feel.
Abo\e the eastern eniranee you finil
tiie Tomb o\ \ ir^il. Faitenng the
Thli^ruau tiehls \ou tiud the I^ke
if Agnauo on tlie ri^ht, by whose
>>h*>ns are tl»e Grotto del Cane, the
Slufe di San (iermano, and higher
up the l\seiarflli. On the opposite
slioie you see the kind's lumtin;;:
park at Asiruni. Crohsiui: the hills
at the risoarelli, you come to the
SoUalara ; and a> \ou descend to
IVz/uoli, you pass an Amplntlieatre
on the n^j^hi, and some ancient tombs
on the letL At Pozzuoli \isit the
Cathedral, part of vvhicfi is formed
oi' the ruins of a temple sacred to
AUjiustus : also see the temple of
Jupiter Serapis and the Mole.

Tarther on, you juss the ruins of Ci-
cero's country-house, and come to
Monte Nuovo, the Lucrine Liike,
Lake Avemus, with the ruins of the
Temple of Apollo, and the Cave of
the Sibyl on Us b.inks.

Heyond this stands Monte Barbaro,
the ancient Baccheus (laurus, the
Arco I'Vljce, thrown aero>s a chasm
ni a inline that bounds the pluin

where Cumae stood ; and the ruins
of Litcrnum, whither Scipio Afri-
caims retired.

Near the Lucrine Lake you find the
natural hot baths, called Stufe de'
Tritoli, or Nero's Sudatoria.

By the shore of the Gulf of Baiae you
see the ruins of the Temples of
\'emis Genilrix, Diana Lucifera,
and Mercury, and the Sepulchre of
Agri])pina. Hence you arrive at
tiie Mercato del Sabbato, where
urns containing the ashes of the
dead were deposited. A little
farther, you come to the Piscina
Mirabile, a great reservoir for water,
constructed by Agrippa, for water-
ing the fleet. Hereabouts, also, is
the Cento Camerelle, the use of
which has not been ascertained ; the
Elysian Fields, and the promontory
of Misenum, and the Mare Morlo,
Lake Acheronte, or Fusaro ; and, at
some little distance, the islands of
Procida and Ischia.

To TIIE East of Naples you come to
Portici, Resina, and the subterranean
ruins of Ilerculaneum, Mount \'e-
suvius, Torre dvl Greco, Torre dclia
'Nunziata, and Pomj)eii.

APPENDIX — POMPBII — ASSISI.

429

PoMPEfl AND ITS ExCAVATTD RuiNS.

Pompeii was encompassed by walls
fortified with towers, and baving
several gates.

The gate towards Heiculaneum has
three archways; the two side ones
for foot-passengers, the centre one
for carriages.

On entering the city by the Via Dooii-
tiana, you come to a building on
the right hand, supposed to nave
been a post-house, from the bones of
horses oeing found in the stables :
chequers were painted on each side
ofthe door, which shews the antiquity
of this sign to a public-house.

On the opposite side stands a building,
supposed to have been a Thermo-
polium.

The House of a Surgeon, where above
forty suigical instruments were found.

A Pooderarium,— so named from the
number of weights and steel-yards
found.

Near to this is a house thought to have
been used for the manufiicture of
soap.

Next comes what has been named the
House of the Danzatrici, from the
statues that were excavated here.

A public Bakehouse, containing corn-
mills, an oven, &c.

The other most remarkable buildings
are — the house of Caius Sallust ; of
Julius Polybius, thought to have
been an hotel ; a Druggist's Shop ;
House of the Edile Pansa; of the Dra-
matic Poet, adorned with several ex-
cellent frescos; tliat ofthe Oioscouroi,
80 named from the frescos of Castor
and Pollux painted on one of the
entrances, — tnere are other frescos,
some of which are exceedingly beau-

tiful ; that of the Bacchantes, which
takes its name also from the frescos.

The Fonim.

The Temples of Fortune^ Isis, and £s-
culapins.

A Sculptor's Shop.

A Comic Theatre.

A Tragic Theatre.

The Amphitheatre.

The Nola Gate: but for a particular
description of Uiese and other edi-
fices, 1 beg to refer the reader to the
" Flan de Fompci^ par U Chanoine
de JorioJ*
Outside ofthe walls you find —

The Barracks for the Garrison.

Tlje Villa of Diomedes, in excavating
which several skeletons were found ;
one having keys in one hand and a
gold ring in tlie other. In the cellar,
where they had retreated to, in all
likelihood for safety, twenty skele-
tons were found, two of which were
those uf children.

Tlie tombs ofthe family are to be seen
on the opposite side of the Via Do-
mitianai

An edifice for the funeral repasts at
burials. Observe the table on which
they were served, and a triclinium.

The Tombs of Munacius Faustus, Scau-
rus, and Calventius Quietus.

An ancient osteria,or inn for travellers.

Several skeletons were found here, four
of which were locked in each other's
arms ; and a great variety of uten-
sils, flee.

Opposite to this is a building, sup-
p<ised to have been a place where
they washed the bodies of the dead
previous to burning them.

A sentry-box, where the skeleton ofthe
soldier on duty, as supposed, was
found.

ASSISI.

PaIMTINOS IK THE DUOMO AT AsSISI.

The stoiy of Toby and the Fish.

Agar with Ishmael in the Desert.

Abraham's Sacrifice.

Christ at Emmaus, and othen.

A Statue ofthe patron Saint of Assisi,
St. Rufino, by Lemoigne, stands be-
hind the grand altar.j

Here also you see several ancient
paintings: —

A Crucifixion ; a Marriage of St. Ca-
therine; St. Andrew ; and the Viigtn
appearing to St. Philip, ofthe Order
of the Servi.

130 APPEM^IX BOLOGNA ACCADEMIA DELLE BELLE ARTI-

Paimings in 711 l Cin'Rcii or Santa Maria degli Angeli,
()n the iirund routt itnnitdiattly Ik low Assist,

In Uie fiM Chj^pel to the left, o^er the
;iltar — St. I'rancis curitij the Blind.
On the Miies — bt. r'rancis preachinz,
u'ltJ i.i5 a|)j 'taring btfure iht Poj»e.

'2'f. — Ovlt thf altar — An Ansp] appear-
uj/ to St. Iraiids. On the sidcS —
lii> Dciilh and Funenil.

.';</. — i)\tT i!'e altar — a Descent. On
tli<.' s\(\(< — Cli.'"i'«l kntelmj before his
MoUuT, \\\n) is u(tj})inz, St. I'eter,
St. .Folm, and the Ma'.;dalen present
— arLhiltctur.d sctnerv m the hack-

ground Ta tine painting) ; and a No":
me tangere.

4th. — A Coronation of the Virjin : *^t.
Francis appc-aring to some one >ick
in bed tine;.

otfi. — The \*in;in and Child. A nun
ki>ses the lx)y's tiand : rich back.-
cround (very fine).

In the first to the right — St. Francis.

'3(I.—T\^e Birth of the Virgin. A fe-
male prepares to bathe the new-born
infant. Obsene the frescos.

BOLOGNA.

Paintings in the Accademia delle Belle Arti.

I HIST no<'M.
A llulv 1 aniilv, bv (iidcomo Frtmcid.
.\ Sebastian and St.(ieorL't/,by the same.
A .Ma;4.ialtn, of e\(pii^ite beauty, by

Tt iintlnt Vitt , a pupil of Ka|)hael.
The Nativity, Nurture, and Death of

Christ, by FrauciHO Fraiiciny llie

father.
A I*ieta, supported by angels, by Lo-

raizt) Sublnttiiii (small).

SECOND ROOM.

A fine Portrait of St. Andrew Corsini,

by (juii/o.
An unfinished St. Sebastian, by the

.same.
Christ placed in tlie Tomb, by Pros-

juro Foil f una.
I'he Annunciation, in two scj)arate

j)aintin^s of tiie Angel and of the

\ ir^in, l)y Hannibal Curacci.
St. John preaching in the Wilderness,

by the soft harmonious pencil of

Jjudovico Caracci.
Si. Anthony kissinej the foot of the

Infant Jesus, by Klizubith Sirani.
A Pieta, by Altxandcr Chiuritii.
An Assumj)tion, by ^igostino Curacci.

THIRD ROOM.

Tlie celebrated Crucifixion, by Guido.
The Conversion of St. Paul, by Ludo-

vico Carucci.
A Transfiguration, by the same.
Samson, by C/uido.
Martyrdom of St. Agnes, by Domcni-

chino.

Baptism of Christ, by Albani.

A .Madonna, Infant Jesus, and St.
John, seated on an altar, with St.
John the Evanjrelist and St. Cathe-
rine below, by Hannibal Caracct.

A Tribute-money, by Ludovico Caracci.

An allegorical painting of the Perse-
cution and final Triumph of Chns-
tianity, by Domenichino.

Opposite to this — St. Agnes, by the
same.

The Virgin and Child appearing to St.
Bruno, by Gutrcino (in hi:* best
manner).

An iVssumption of the Virgin, by ^i/>-
batini (fine).

Foi rth room.

A Nativity, by Ludovico Caracci,

A Holy Family, by Bugittrdini.

St. Margaret adoring the Infant Re-
deemer, by the glowing pencil of
Varwigiano.

St. John in the Wilderness, a fine copy
of Raphael's, by Gittlio Romano.

The Communion of St. Jerome, by
Agostino Caracci.

The Death of St. Fiancis, by Ccsi, a
pupil of Guido.

The Marriage of St. Catherine, by

rri-

liarmi.
The Murder of the Innocents, by Guido.
St. Cecilia, by Raphael.
A Pieta, by Guido.
Peter the Martyr, by Domcnichitw.
In this Room there are two Francius.

APPENDIX BOLOGNA — UNIVERSITY.

431

UVIVERSITT OF BOLOGNAy vUi SoH DottOtO,

FIRST ROOM.

Ad Etruacan patera, with figures en-
graved CD it ; ancient weights ; in-
struments used in the sacrifices;
several Egyptian mummies; and a
large bracelet of gold, found in the
Rheno.

SECOND ROOM

Contains several statues. The two
things most remarkable in this room
are a porphyry vase for holding the
lustral water — the eau bcniteofihe
ancients, and a torso dressed in the
imperial togamentum.

THIRD ROOM.

A small bronze Neptune — John dt Bo-
logna t premiere pens6e.

Bronze busts of Paul III., Urban VI II .,
and Gregory XIII.

A large uncouth bronze statue, 500
years old.

Utensils, &c. of coral and ivory.

Dishes in isroanica, the designs by
Ghdio Hoffiano.

FOURTB ROOM

Contains models of several of the most
noted ruins at Rome.

FIFTH ROOM.

Richly inlaid steel weapons, &c. fit>m
Damascus; Japanese idols; Ota-
heitian dresses and ornaments; a
flute made of a human thigh-bone;
different utensils of considerable
beauty from the East and West In-
dies ; a painting (if it may be so
called) made of the feathen of birds,
from North America.

SIXTH ROOM.

Containing the seals and arms of Bo*
lognese fiunilies.

Rooms or voted to Objects of
Physics.

lit, — Contains a Leyden battery, a
large loadstone from Elba, weighing
500 lbs., and various electrifying
machines.

2d, — Galvanic piles, batteries, and
troughs ; pyrometers, reflecting
lenses, an artificial loadstone, which
suspends a weight of 36 lbs.

3il.— -Microscopical, prismatic, and

other optical instruments; Adams'
camera obscura, &c.

Ath, — Instruments relating to astro-
nomy, the vibration of the pendu-
lum, the pully, weights, statical ma-
chinery; acoustic instruments re-
lating to the laws of sound ; instru-
ments for the admeasurement of
centrifugal and centripetal forces, and
those illustrating the power of the in-
clined plane. This room also contains
a curious model of a machine for the
catching of eels.

5th. — Air-pumps, air-guns ; chemical
apparatus, chiefly for exhibiting the
ptienomena of the gases ; barometen
of different sorts ; eudiometera and
hydrogenometers.

There are rooms for minerals, which
are not yet arranged properly ; nei-
ther are the geological nor zoological
specimens. Among the latter I no-
ticed a fine preparation of the Li-
mulus Polyphemus, from the West
Indies.

In a room containing organic remains,
you find the impression of a petri-
fied bird, so rarely met with ; a Urge
Ray fish, and many othen, from
fiolca ; and extremely fine specimens
of dendritic marl.

Another room contains Corab, Coral-
lines, and Madrepores.

The Shells are distributed in two rooms.
In the fint they are very ordinary : the
only shell at all curious is that con-
taining a laige aggregation of pearls ;
in the second th^ are much netter :
the collection of coni and oUv» is
particularly fine. Here also you find
some monstrosities, as double^ieaded
calves, Ice., stuffed birds, fish and
animals; among othen, a dolphin
well prepared, and the omitlioryn-
chus paradoxus from New UolUnd.

The celebrated wax anatomical pre-
parations of Manzolini are ranged in
two rooms, and though much infe-
rior in number and merit to those at
Florence, yet being the fint pre-
parations of the kind, they are highly
mteresting. The fint contains : —

A male and female statue, shewing the
exterior of the body; a very Targe
(natural) skull, with a portrait in wax
of the individual, named Bottaro, to

4o'2 xriCNDIX — BOLOGNA — THE PALACES.

v> — . '. •/..^ C' i: p-vparations in ception ; natural and wax prrpao-

T.> \ • • -. ■'«.;•.>, a li Oil, er< «hevv- tions of the internal ear and eye:

■ ^ : t > .^^...: >:pv:c: ro ofl\>ne>; wax preparations of the muH:l»js,

• cv- .'. t.;:. \*;ih U5 niuscies, nerves, and blood-vessels, and of ili*::

r -• : ; •..^. i ..:o: .i j\\n»K and vtsceraofthe head, thorax, and a*»-

:-. ".• -. :v s."t. C't i' N :r '.4.:wr.t\i ; domen ; several very curious models

'... -. ■ ."• .r >k :. o*:..t W'.:te and of hermaphrodites in wax; two por-

^::~.^: • .: rt' ; -v. ""-;::'^r > of the traits of Manzolini and his wife in

• -•; <k..x:::; !r.::; >i\t:i wtxks old wax; and some natural preparations

«^..-i>. of the lymphatics injected with mer-
cury.

- : N . ?. • V . In one of the rooms there is a mosaic

A v -. • >, --.. ; -\r>ir.H'.vV^> o^,^ Iv- portrait of Pope Benedict XIV., a

^ .,:*:: v t ^ ;.. «i..N from con- native of Bologna.

Vv \-Nv'> :n Tiir r vIa:e Tan \r.i '-u^r the Church of S.M. Mctfgiorr),

>-■ vV rOlRTII PwOOM.

"^' ^ •> .'•' S: B .::' ;>.rt:A- ,\:\i Birih of Alexander the Great, by Lu-

V

N I

. A V ■■ .- r> . ►. . .> -^

V

*•>

tA»r/i\> Caracci.
Dt^oIlAiion of St. John, by Delia
\ C •:, y ttf ^small).

V. .'; V- . >v«x .I'jo A : r^ •. :-s. Htrvu\<, A Madonna, by Ludovico Carucci
\ S f-. .u K .^-w. i^small).

A I^isi Sup]^r, by the same.
^ . ' N ^ T. V A Portrait of San Carlo, by Carlo Dolce,

> V : - .»».-..• .. A S'r.tpherd singing to the music of a

V Vnx ' ^ , V\ : ; >v'.v-\ :r. bj> Gir.lar, by Ludovico Cnracci,

V. I .- T; e Death of Abel, by S<jbtHitini.

S .\ " ' : -; -.0. .;•::.:•." I S.w.oiir. Ponra;ts of Hannibal Caraccrs two

favourite mistresses, by himself.
\. - ;••. ^ . \ : ^ i-~;.>v>, .X }{.•>- Two also of Ludovico 's, by himself.
V .... .'vi :\Xv^ o:. 'v7<, bv

V \,

In the ZAVPirRi Pal-ice there is a

V CeiUnc by Ltulovico CV/rorri, the

S V .\ \. >\ :"•" v.-v. ,v. , sub'cct of which represents Hercules

\ ^l ./. : .% :i . - * i\;'-.wi. and Jupiter.

.'...< ,'..-\' c ^ ' >* >x.: . a K'.s>, b\ Ar.other, bv his brother Hannihal, of

I- .\ i. x". \\r:ue o'^xn.ng the Heavens to Her-

\ \l --kv •. . . "."^^ ".'c >or.-vAvr\.r.\ a A:;v^:avr. by Guercino, of Hercules

^. v«-. o* V v^"<« b\ i^ /\>^:.- » s'.rar.iiliisc Anta'us.

Nv I vvv":^'' or. :*'.-.' t«r-.; Tv r, b\ l.u- A fourta Cc.lin::. bv Ji:o.</im> Curacci,

^i v'/ V , *\u\'i rvprc>t r.tmg the subjt-ct of Hercules

■: C I .T"^*. b\ it^i'x ,\ ;bo ar.J .\tia>.

» « « « V ^ '

■ i V ; o' V' :;.\'.** S*-.u J. l^,i< palact formerly contained some of

,"*•.•- a^^x- "**: ^\'**•.^^< K;tV-.:-c .a liu r: ..est i^iimtiM'ZS that existed — in

. . -v ►

t— \v*.\ b^ U >•' ^-* i •.•'^- .v'i partioniar. St. Peter wailiug his De-

V .\^ r>v \^v^"A.: vU;moi> grwii Ir. the M vRF5c \icHi Palace there isa

<vv ,'x.'% v> m N .' AvV»!<.r.;on, >\h;ie St. Peter, by (»fii<f*> ; an Ecce Homo,

t\>i* v'\ -i's \\.:h ibv *.v»'jx><urv of by Dc I'uui: and two beautiful

* ;• ixt.sxvi *. ar. things by Ci^f^^io — one, Neptune

V \ \-.:; Mvk! !\c t' V l«;:a;U Cbr.st, antl Proserpine; the other, and the

bx !►**.. t\i\e>i. rx'i^resenis Christ with angels.

APPENDIX — BOLOGNA THE CHURCHES.

433

Cathedral of St. Peter.

Christ delivering the Keys to St. Peter.

A Fresco in the dome of the Tribune,
by Arttusi.

The Annunciation, a fresco, by Ludo-
vico Caracci. This was the last work
of the artist.

On the ceiling of the chapter, off the
sacristy, St. Peter and the Virgin
Mary lamenting the death of the
'' Sacrifice for Sin," by the same.

Over the font is a Baptism of the Sa-
viour, by Graziani. The colouring
is exceedingly soft and sweet, but
the design sSsout the joints is some-
what harsh and angular.

PAlllTlliOS IN THE ChURCH OP St.

Paul.

In the^rff Chapet, called the Chapel
of the Holy Cross, to the right on
entering, Christ in the Garden, by
MasUUetti ; facing which, Jesus
fiillen under the weight of the Cross.
The paintings in the arch above are
by Carhone,

In the wecond-^ Paiadise, by iMdovko
Caracd. On the sides — the Biith
and the Presentation of the Virgin.

Id tbe tiurd — A Circumcision over the
altar. On the sides — the Adoration
of the Magi and of the Shepherds.

In the right limb of the Cross you will
find a painting of Purgatory, by
Guercino.

In tbe Choir — ^Abraham wrestling with
the Angel; and focing this, a fine
though terrific painting of Cain kill-
ing his Brother.

In tb? Cross are four Saints, by Spag-
noletto.

Returning : In the third chapel to the
leA, St. Carlo stopping the Progress
of the Plague or Milan, in which
there is some fine foreshortening, by
CarbkrL

In the tecond — The Communion of St.
Jerome.

In the first, over the altar — the Baptism
of Christ. On tbe sides — the Birth
of the Virgin, and Christ borne to
the Tomb. The architecture of this
chapel is particularly fine.

On gomg towards the door, observe, on
one side, Christ raising Lazarus ; and

on the other, the Crucifixion of St.
Andrew.

Church of St. Dominick.

Here vou see Guido*t celebrated firesco
of Paradise.

In the tribune — the Adoration of the
Magi.

To the left of the grand altar—St. Tho-
mas Aquinas writing by the inspira-
tion of Angels, by Gvercino,

A Portrait of a Pope kneeling in prayer.

A Crucifixion of St. Andrew.

The chapel of St. Dominick is em-
bellished with paintings representa-
tive of his life and miracles.

Paintings in the Phukcb of Sav
Giovanni of tbe Crlbstines.

Over the grand altar, you see a very
masterly production, of St. Luke
painting the Portrait of the Virgin.

Here also are the Death of St. Joseph,
with Jesus and Mary on each side
of the pillow, and a tolerable Noli
me tangere.

Church attached to the Monas-
tery OF Corpus Domini.

\tt Chapel to the left— -Death of St
Josepn.

SU — lin Annunciation.

Orer the gxand altar — Christ adminis-
tering the Holy Saownent to his
disciples.

\tt to the right «~ St. Francis in the
Desert.

3d — ^Angels administering to the Mag*
dalen.

Paintings in the Church or thr
Servi.

Ut Chapd to the right— St. Fiancis
delivering, by his intercession, aouls
from Purgatory.

Vi — ^Tlie Virgin giving the Diess of the
Order to the Servi, with the following
words : '* ^esteri dolohs net sua-
cipite Servi.'' Their dress is black.

Atk — Saints in Paiadise.

K K

APPENDIX — BOLOGNA — THE PALACES.

"Imm il lif loiiL'i il ; preparaiions in
ttM\ i.f ll.^ miistles.a"<l olhers shew-
in;: (he vasfuUr sirucmre of bones;
ati txicriiiil ear, wjtii its muscles,
MiisiiicNmn liilw, [wroitd gland, and
tvin|Hinl muscle, greatly ma^tficil;
laiitiivl liiimiui skiri of the Wliil« and
Nojrro ; ii»riir»l preimmlions of Ihe
ln'iil <iiclci(ir) from seven weeks old

nrepatalions
tigliili d:\y fr

lhimrd..ins of S(. natllinlnmew and
.St. .Aiidii'W, iti ujl, copied from the
irlil.ritid frescos liy Domenichino
:iiicl (iiiirlo a( Itome, by C''fi.

I(Tc voti sue also a bronze Hercules,
hy J.-/i>i df Bof^na.

.lin, l,y 0„,rck
in|>liori, by the

edited, adoring the Saviour

ception; naliiral an^' ^dio; lo tbe
lions of the inteiD j:; ind oppo-
»ax preparations .:^itu. Under
nerves, and blooi' ^mb oflheVii-

domen; sever ,7ie RedeenieT in
of hermanliro .rticfc, four Piopbeti.
traits of M^

wax ; and ■ , ^fourth diapel W Ihe
of liie lym e»llai— Atioly Family;
cury. . of wbicb, a Si. Jenww ;

n one of ■ j, tie DecirfUtioo of Si.

native ^J—A Cracidiion- Obsore
^al^lit elfect.

..'td—A large and nobk re-
ar /' ,111011 of (he Ascensioo.

. inl—SL John ihe Bapiiit

r -lisepK ltd Mani present, by

,f:uhGarofalo. Thu pxiDlin;
^aiirlable for its fine arcbilec-

,^ [te landscape scenery thioogb

;Ui-h, where Ihe Baptism of Christ
tta in the distance.
■ ' ^die door there is a elowinjt and
■■ : ^.aing paialing of the Marriage
' -iina; and on (he right band of
' K door, a Madonna and Child,
' ^ S. Ubaldo and Sla. Libcrala.

bis brother lAini

St. Cecilia, by FranctKliim.

A JMaEdiileti by Jiannikai Ciinicci.

Judas betraying Christ with a k'a;

Jjidueieo Cunicci.

A Piper, by his brother Apmtim.

A Mngdalen, regarding sorrowful

CroH-n ofTljoms, by Da Pcsw

S.nii l^renzo on ihe Gridiron, by

dovKO C«mi-n.
I'cter denying Christ, by Anilrtv

father of F.liiabeth Sirani.
Diiiiia and her Nymphs bathi

iiicht cffecl), by Agotlinti Car |
I'lic J\Ia([onna della Itosa, by }

f '
I'el

. H jCrsf chapel to the left— SanU

,, -.^-ji round I-'iescos are by Ijido-
^ CanKci; und the InlanI Angels
^portraits of Saints, in the clois-
^ likewise in fresco, are by the
aK dislinguished master,
^i— The cuslode lives in tbe eatten
xagof the cloisters.

J J^lSDI (

denying his Master, by /, /

'nie

^dfidorii 3nd othi
-^,byG..rc,™
^ Scaring his tros

-/ ihe Porta S.
by EliaOM
rs, by On.
, by iMiomco

Kirnesliie
Feler denies with Ihe coiiip'
a prncliscd liar.
The Vir^'in sucliling the Infant

AFFKNDIX — FEURARA — THB CHURCHBS.

435

FERRARA.
Thb Dvomo^ om Cathedral.

Id the third chapel to the left on en-
teiing— a Virgin and Child, with
St. SiUeiter, Sl Mauritius, St. John
the Baptist, and others, by Benvenuto
Garqfalo,

In the yourM — Martjrrdom of some
Warrior-Saint.

In the sixth — Coronation of the Virgin
by God the Father, whilst God the
Son, St. John the Baptist, and St.
Catherine, regard the ceremony be-
low.

In the left wing of the cross — a Cir-
cumcision and an Annunciation.

In the chapel immediately to the left
of the gmnd altar — Jesus breaking
Bread in the presence of his Disci-
ples.

In the dome over the choir — a fresco
painting of the Last Judgment.

To the ngtii of the grand altar you see
a large bronze Crucifix.

In the right wiog of the cross, Marfyr-
dom of St. Lawrence.

In thej^A chapel on the same side—
Death of St. Joseph.

In the third — the Virgin appearing in
the skies to St. Catherine and anoUier,
who kneel in the foreground.

In the secofw^Death of St. Francis.

In the.^pf^ — ^Decollation of St. John.

Chvrcb op S. Fravcesco Grande.

Id ibejirst chapel on the right— Judas
betnnring Christ with a kiss, a fresco,
by Vdta Poletto* Fine design and
admirable expression.

In f^/oitrth — Murder of the Inno-
cents, by Garofalo,

In tbeseoen/A-— Virgin and Child seated
on a pedestal, with St. John and
another below.

In the right wing of the cross — The
Tomb of the Marquess Villa. See
alto the Tomb of the Romeo Family.

Id the chapel of St. Anthony — A daub
representing II Santo performing a
Miracle. Over the altar of the chapel,
die saint appears in the sky to figures
beneath.

Next the grand alur — Christ healing
the Sick, by Garqfalo,

In the choir — ^A Descent, Resurrectioo,
and AaoeosioD.

Od each side c^ the grand altar —
Christ disputing with the Elders,
and a Circumcision.

In the left wing of the cross — St. Fran-
cis in the Desert, and an Ascent in
presence of the eleven.

In the Jirst to the left — Angels minis-
tering in the Flight, and a Marriage
of the Virgin.

In the Sth to the left — A Descent
from Calvary.

7M — ^An Assumption.

6M — St. Agnes kneeling before a Cru^
cifix.

4/A— A Holy Family.

2d — ^A Female Saint in black, reeeir-
ing in her arms the In&nt Jesus
fix>m the Viigin.

CnuRCH OF St. Jerome, m the street
of the same name.

In the second chapel to the right— St
Matthew writing his Gospel — (what
sublimity in that head ! ) ; and over
the altar — a Nun, the Virgin, Joseph,
and Angels.

In the choir— The Death of St. Jerome.

In the second to the left — Christ (a
statue) speaking to a Dominican
Friar ; Christ appearing to a Nun
of the same order.

Church of Sahta Maria in Vado,
Strada del Borgo Vado.

tst to the left— St. Joho the Evan-
gelist.

6th — A Visitation (ancient).

In the right wing of the cross — Christ
appearing to a Fmnciscan Nun who
is in the agonies of death, supported
by Angeb.

In the choir — An Annunciation; and
in the dome, a fresco.

On the sides of the tribune — Birth of
the Virgin, and a Presepio ; the
Marriage in Cans, and tlmt of the
Virgin.

In the 6M tp the left — A Crucifixion.

5th — A beautiful Ascension.

3<f— Virgin and Child, with St. John
seated on an altar, with several fe-
male saints in the foreground.

434

APPENDIX BOLOGNA — THE CHURCHES.

But llie be>t painting in this church is
a Guardian Angel, against one of the
pilasters.

Paintings in the Church of S.
GlACOMC) Maggiore.

In ihe. fourth Chapel to the left — a St.
Jeronne.

In ihe tlt'vcjith — a good fresco painting.

In xhejif'th to the right — Madonna and
Child, with several Saints below
knoelini^.

In the tenth — A Madonna and Child,
Infant St. John, and the Archangel
Michael.

Also ohsei-ve an Infant Jesus receiving
a departed soul, by Sahhatini.

To the left of the grand altar — St.
Sebastian, l)y Fran. Francia ; over
which there is a good fresco en lu-
nette.

Church or S. Salvatore,

In \\\v first chapel to the right — A small
but fine painting, covered with glass,
of Tobit and the Angel.

Ill the Sicond- A rich and grand com-
position of the Resurrection.

In tiie ///iW/— The Gffbring of the Magi.

In the fourth — A Crucifixion; to the
right of which, a Judith ; and oppo-
site, a Madonna and Saints. Under
the last, see a Coronation of the Vir-
gin, by some very old master.

In the tribune — The Redeemer in
Heaven ; over which, four Prophets.

Returning : In \}nt fourth chapel to the
left, over the altar — A Holy Family ;
on tlie right of which, a St. Jerome ;
on the left, the Decollation of St.
John.

In the third — A Crucifixion. Observe
the moonlight effect.

In the second — A large and noble re-
presentation of the Ascension.

In the first — St. John the Baptist
kneeling before the high priest, Siiinls
Ann, Joseph, and Mar>' present, by
Benvenuto Garofalo. This painting
is remarkable for its fine architec-
tural perspective.

Observe the landscape scenery through
an arch, where the Baptism of Christ
is seen in the distance.

Over the door there is a glowing and
charming painting of the Marriage
in Cana ; and on the right hand of
the door, a Madonna and Child,
with S. Ubaldo and Sta. Liberata.

Cui'RCHES outside THE GaTES OF BOLOGNA.

San MicHEir. in Bosco, />y the Porta
Sim Mamolo.

Th« fre>cos in the portico are by Ludo-
vico Caracci ; but they are so much
destroyed by neglect and the wea-
ther, that the eye can make nothing
out of them. Those in the sacristy
are by Cavadone, and are in tolerable
j>reservation.

Over the high altar in the church is a
painting by Gucrc'mo ; the two on
each side, historical of the life of St.
Bernard, are by Vinni.

Over the arch in front of the dome,
you see St. Michael driving out the
rebellious angels from heaven, by
Lionel Spada.

In i\\Q first chapel to the right — St.
Bernard receiving the rules of his
order from an angel, by Cavadone.

In the second — His Death, by the same.

In theirs/ chapel to the left — Santa
Francesca, by the same.

The four round Frescos are by Ludo-
vico Caracci; and the Infant Angels
and portraits of Saints, in the clois-
ters, likewise in fresco, are by the
same distinguished master.

N,B. — The custode lives in the eastern

wing of the cloisters.

Carthusian Church of the Ceme-
tery, one mile out of the Fort a S,
Felice.

A Baptism of Christ, by Elizabeth
Si rani.

A Crucifixion, and others, by Cesi.

St. Bruno, by Gucrcino.

Christ bearing his Cross, by Ludovico
Caracci.

The same subject, with figures, by
Ma scar o.

AFFSNDIX — FERRARA — THB CHURCHES.

435

FERRARA.
The Duomo^ om Cathedral.

In the third chapel to the left on en-
tering — a Virgin and Child, with
St. SilFeiter, Sl Mauritius, St. John
the Baptist, and others, by Benvenuio
Garofalo.

In the fourth — Martjrrdom of some
Warrior-Saint.

In the sixth — Coronation of the Virgin
by God the Father, whilst God the
Son, St. John the Baptist, and St.
Catherine, regard the ceremony be-
low.

In the left wing of the cross — a Cir-
comcision and an Annunciation.

In the chapel immediately to the left
of the gmnd altar — Jesus breaking
Bread in the presence of his Disci-
ples.

In the dome OTer the choir — a fresco
painting of the Last Judgment.

To the right of the grand altar you see
a large bronze Crucifix.

In the right wiog of die cross, Martyr-
dom of St. Lawrence.

In thej^A chapel on the same side —
DeaSui of St. Joseph.

In the third — the Virgin appearing in
the skies to St. Catherine and anoUier,
who kneel in the foreground.

In the seconcf— Death of St. Francis.

In the^sT— -Decollation of St John.

Cbvbcb op S. Francesco Grande.

In ibtjirst chapel on the right — Judas
betraying Christ with a kiss, a fresco,
by rolta PoUtto* Fine design and
admirable expression.

In tbeyinrM — Murder of the Inno-
cents, by Garofalo.

In tfaeseoen/A — Virgin and Child seated
on a pedestal, with St. John and
another below.

In the right wing of the cross — ^The
Tomb of the Marquess Villa. See
also the Tomb of the Romeo Family.

In the chapel of St. Anthony — A daub
representing II Santo performing a
Miracle. Over the altar of the chapel,
the saint appears in the sky to figures
beneath.

Next the grand altar — Christ healing
the Sick, by Garofalo.

In the choir — ^A Descent, Resurrection,
and Aaoeosioo.

On each side of the grand altar —
Christ disputing with the Elders,
and a Circumcision.

In the left wing of the cross — St. Fran-
cis in the Desert, and an Ascent in
presence of the eleven.

In tbe^r«^ to the left — Angels minis-
tering in the Flight, and a Marriage
of the Virgin,

In the 8M to the left — A Descent
from Calvary.

7M — An Assumption.

6M— St. Agnes kneeling before a Cru-
cifix.

4M— A Holy Family.

2d— -A Female Saint in black, receir-
ing in her arms the In&nt Jesus
fix>m the Virgin.

Church of St. Jerome, m the street
of the same name.

In the second chapel to the right— St.
Matthew writing his Gospel — (what
sublimity in that head I ) ; and over
the altar — a Nun, the Virgin, Joseph,
and Angels.

In the choir— The Death of St. Jerome.

In the second to the left — Christ (a
statue) speaking to a Dominican
Friar ; Christ appearing to a Nun
of the same order.

Church of Santa Maria in Vado,
Strada del Borgo Vado,

tst to the left — St. John the Evan-
gelist.

6/^^ — A Visitation (ancient).

In the right wing of the cross — Christ
appearing to a Fmnciscan Nun who
is m the agonies of death, supported
by Angels.

In the choir — An Annunciation; and
in the dome, a fresco.

On the sides of the tribune — Birth of
the Virgin, and a Presepio ; the
Marriage in Cans, and that of the
Virgin.

In the 6th iq the left — A Crucifixion.

5th — A beautiful Ascension.

3d — Virgin and Child, with St. John
seated on an altar, with several fe-
male saints in the foreground.

436

APPENDIX PADUA THE CHURCHES.

Chirch 01 Sr. Agostino.
Frescos bv (notto; and in that of St.
(.ieorge tliere are some frescos by a
pupil of lliis ancient master.

CnuR( II or Sax Beni:i)etto.

l^amdise, by (inrofalo ; and St. John
the [baptist rcpiovin<j: Herod and

Herodias (which are portraits of
Duke Alphonso and his Mistress),
by Bononi.

In the TiiEATiNE is a Presentation of
our Saviour at the Temple, by Gutr-
cino, {Marft/n.)

PADUA.

Chuikh 01 Si. Anthony.

In the clia|)el of the Holy Sacrament —
a Crucifixion, by PUiro Damini ;
and observe several small bas-reliefs
in bronze, by Donafet/o.
That of Pope St. Febx is adorned with
a Crucifixion, by Giotto ; and frescos
representing parts in the history of our
Saviour, by Jucopo Avonziy a Boloj-
iiese, restored by Zanoni in 1775.
In the chapels surrounding the choir —
A Martyrdom of St. Catherine, bv
tlie expeditious and ready pencil of
A ntonio Ft lb iirini.
Martyrdom of St. Ap^ata, by (ikm Bap-

thta Thpoloy a \'enelian artist.
The Martyrdom of St. Juslina, by Ja-

cojio Ctrud.
St. l.ouis, llislioj) of Toulouse, dis-

trihutiiia: Alms, by Vntro (,\)turi.
The chapel of the Sanctuary contains
abundance of precious relics, among
which is the incorruptihle Tongue of
St. Aniliony. Tfic Statues of Faith,
Charity, llumiliiy, and i'enitence,
are by Paroilio ; and that of St.
Anthony, and a grou]) of Angels in
front, by Koz/rrz/O/o.
Over the door facing this chapel, which
leads into the choir, observe a bas-
relief in clay, gilt, of the Entombini:
of Christ, by Donatt/lo.
In the next chapel, you find tlie Martyr-
dom of St. H.utholomew, by Vittoni.
The Decollation of St. John the Baptist,

by Pidzzcffa.

The V'lruin shewing the Infant Christ to

St. Clair before she dies, by Bahslru.

St. Francis receiving the Stigmata,

painted in one night by the C/uvalicr

Libcri.

Chapel of St, Anthony — The archi-

t(^cture by Bunii, Sansovinity and

luiU'om tto ; the sculpture by J//-

Loffif'crt/i, and Sat/.S(nino.

The three bronze statues upon the altar
are by Tttian Aspelti.

Over the middle door, or grand en-
trance of the church, are paintings
of St. Anthony and St. Bernard, by
Andrea liluntr^na.

Most remarkable Tombs in lliis Church.

Of Contarini, a general of the Repub-
lic, by the pupils of Saiisovino.

Of Helen Lucrelia Cornelia Piscopia.

The above two are in the middle aisle
to the left.

Those of Caterino Conielio, and of two
medical men, are in the left aisle.

The Crucifix behind the grand altar is
by DoiwUllo, as well as the sym-
bols of the Evangelists, in bronze,
under the tirst two organs.

Close to the Church of St. Anthony is
the S( uoi.A DEL Santo.

Paintings in fresco, representing the

Miracles of St. Anthony.
St. Anthony making an Infant speak

to satisfy the father of his mother's

fidelity, hy Titian.
The Miracle of the Miser and St.

Anthony, by the Chevalier Giovanni

Contariiii.
The Miracle of the Xss^hy Campagnoia.
The Apparition of the Saint to the

blessed Luca Beludi.
Death of the Saint, and the Miracles

of die Glass Tumbler, — school of

J itian.
St. Anthony admonishing Ezzclino.
II Santo and St. Francis, by Caw-

paffiutla.
The Chevalier's Wife restored to life,

by Titian.
The Mii-acle of the Wound instantly

healed, by the same divine pencil.
The Boy who was scalded to ucalh re-
scued to lih', in two representations

APPENDIX — PADUA — THE CHURCHES.

487

— school of TUiany some think by

Titian himself.
The young Man restored by a Miracle

of the Saint to acknowledge himself

a murderer. A painting in oil.
The Drowned Boy restored, by Do-

menico Campagnola (one of his finest

specimens).

Paiktinos in the Church of
Santa Giustina.

Oyer the Iti altar to the rieht — Con-
version of St. Paul, by uie heirs of
Paul Veronese.

ttd — St. Gertrude in ecstasy, supported
by angels, by the liglit ana ever-
graceful pencil of the Chev. Liberi,

3il---Martyrdom of St.Gerardo Sagredo,
by Carlo Lothf (of a grand cha-
racter, and painted with a strong
and impressive touch).

4M--Death of St. Scholasticay by Luca
Giordano,

M — St. Benedict receiving the holy
children, Placido and Mauro, by
Palma U Giovane,

Here also you see Totila, king of the
Goths, prostrating himself before
St. Beneaict, by Macatuta : the one
opposite is by Hidolfi.

In the right wing of the Cross, St.
Cosmo and St. Damiano saved by
Angels from the Sea, by Antonio
BaUitra; and the Mission of the
Apostles, by Bufoiii.

In a chapel in the Cross to the right,
observe a Pieta, in marble, at the
foot of the cross, with Mary the
Magdalen and St. John, by the
chisel of FiUppo Parodio, a pupil of
Bernini.

Over the high altar is the celebrated
Martyrdom of St. Giustina, by Paid
Veronae,'

On each side are two Lunettes, one by
II LuccketCf the other thive are by
Francetco Caaana,

In the left wing of the Cros»— Murder
of the Innocents, by Tiano Galvano;
and the Scourging of Christ before
Pilate, whilst a pagan sacrifice is
going on, is a fine, rich painting.

In the 6M to the left — two well-ex-
ecuted statues of St. Andrew and
St. Jerome.

5M — The Apotheosis of S. Mauro, by
Le Febrt,

Ath — Martyrdom of St. Placido and
his Companions, finely depicted by

the fi«e pencil of Jjica Giordano^ in

his best style.
Zd — Martyrdom of St. Daniel, by Ant,

Zanchi,
2d — St. Gregory the Great imploring

the Virgin to stop the Plague at

Rome, by Sebatt. Jkicci,
tit — Martyrdom of St. James Minor, a

celebrated work by the heirs of Paul

Veronese.

The DnoMo.

St. Jerome in the Desert, painted by

RidoW at twenty.
In the first Chapel to the left is a three-

?uarters length of the Virgin, hy
wioitOf which once belonged to

Petrarch.
In the Sacristy of the Canons —
An £cce Homo, by Campagnola, the

pupil, and once the rival, of Titian.

Under which, a Viigin and Child,

by Titian himself.
St. Jerome and St. Francis, by Palma

il Giovane.
An Adoration of the Magi, by Battano,
A Madonna, by Sauoferrati; and a

group of Angels, by the Chevalier

Liberi.
Petrarch's portrait is in the Baptistery ;

and a modem bust of him near one

of the entrance-doors.
Petrarch was one of the canons of the

Duomo.

Church of La Maddalina.
(Afar(yfi.)

The Virgin, St. Jerome, and St. Peter

of Pisa, by Paul Veronese.
A fresco in the cloister, representing

our Saviour appearing to Mary, by

the same.

Church of San Gaetano. (Af<ir(yn.)
An Annunciation, Purification, and

Resurrection, by Palma il Giovane ;

and a Pieta, by Titian.

Church of Santa Croce. (Martyn.)
An Assumption, by Tintoretto.

In the S. Annunziata you see the
frescos painted in 1306, by Giotto;
and in iheScuoLA nEL Carmine,
a Madonna and a Visitation, both
by I'Uian.

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Ir. ^r -iv.^r Cha^-ci en the saise side,
.Si. Mark aad St- Jc--.2.

I'aI-. M^^r IN TJIL A-" ', VlJ.HI A IjLLI.F. BlLLE At.TI.

'Wvi- rr« '•<r,»;j' on of tfjc- \ ir'^ori ai ihe

'J «tii|>U-, \ts Ttliori .
Si John Ui«: ii.ijit.sj, |>y ilif; •i.irnc artist.
I .:in')-«' •«{/<: :iii'l t .itilir, hy Jitff^fictn.
'I'wo l^o)"*., I»y I'fint/ii/tL.

hi I r;N Ji l'Or;M.

Senators ; the ^^^^ia appearinc to
tljrefc oihfcrs — bol.j by Tintoritto.

Two fine paintings of holy subjects,

by Hiunfacio.
riie Marriage in Cana, by Vurotari.
riic \ir^in and Child, St. Sebastian,

and others, by BiUino.

'Y

Thi- Murtyrdom of a Sl.ivi*, by Tinto- Tlie Resurrection of l^zarus, by Ais-
ullit. itnio. 'Vhe colouring is beautifully

< hint n|»|'«'«*Niiw h> \\uv.v N't'iivtian rich.

APPENDIX — VENICE — PALACE MANFRINI.

489

A Madonna and Saints^ by Car*

paecio.
The Call of St. Peter as he is fishing,

which, though painted b^ Marco

Baxetti as early as 1510, is still in

excellent preservation.
St. Francis, by Beccaruceu
Eve offering the Apple to Adam, by

Tintoretto,
The celebrated Assumption of the

Virgin, by Tttian,
The ^viour between John the Baptist

and St. Peter, by Rocco Marcane.
The Last Supper, by Benedetto^ the

brother of Paul Veronese. In the

background Christ is seen washing

his disciples' feet
The Adoration of the Magi, by Bonu-

facio.
Christ felling under the weight of the

Cross, by Carlo^ Uie son of Paul

Veronese.
A Fisherman bringing the Ring of the

Doge which was lost in ue sea,

and found inside of a fish, by Bor-
done.
The Holy Family, with several saints,
by Fold Veronete,

THIRD ROOM.

An architectural piece, by Omalelti.
A beautiful miniature copy of Titian's

Assumption, by Perini Matteo.
St. John the Baptut — rich landscape

scenery — by Zucearelli.
A beautiful small copy of Titian's

Danae which is at Naples, by a

scholar of the Academy.
Tlie fine paintings on the ceiling of

this room are by Tintoretto*

FOURTH ROOM

Contains bronze busts and alto-reliefe,
by Titian Aipeiiif Gilbertif and other
eminent masters.

Under the frieze of the room are alle*
gorical paintings by Titian; and
enclosed in a handsome vase of
porphyry is the heart of Canova.

Paivtinos in the Palace Manfriiti.
[Open to Strang9r$ on Monday* and Thurtdcofi.']

first room.

Lucretia and Portia in the act of swal-
lowing the live coals, by Ljuca Gior-
dano.

Vanity, by Carlo Caliari. A female is
represented looking in a mirror ad-
miring herself, behind whom stands
a young man holding a skull in his
hand, which you see reflected in the
elass.

A Prssepe, by Albert Durer,

The Triumph of Venice, by Pompeo
Battoni.

Faith, by LaiMorim,

Cleopatra and Mark Antony, by Mo-
linari,

Sophonisba, by Giov. Bat, Crotato.

Two Landscapes with figures, by Wou^
vertnam,

A fine Landscape, b^ Citolfi,

In this room there is a Statue of a fo-
male, her head covered with a veil,
through which you can perceive feap
tures of exquisite delicacy, by Cora-

SECOMD ROOM.

Here we find a small cabinet of petri-
fied fish from Bolca. The paintings
are: —

Circe presenting the intoxicating Cup
to Ulysses, by GtWio Romano,

A fine Portrait, by Giorgione,

Portia, by Cagnacci.

A beautiml painting of Ceres and Bac-
chus, by Rubem,

A good Bassano.

Two Madonnas, by Saaoferrati.

Darid writh the Head of Goliath, by
Domenichino,

Apollo and the Muses, by Letterim,

Departure of Adonis for the Chase, by
GiuUo Romano.

Esther and Ahasuerus, with Haman
prostrate, by Domemckino.

Two small, but beautiful, architectuml
pieces, by Marco Ricci.

Two Heads of St. Joseph and the Vir-
gin, by Battoni,

The Three Ases of Man, by Titian,

P&ndora in the presence of Jove, by
Gkdio Romano.

Three half figures, by Giorgione,

A Phtlosopher, by Campt^^nola.

An Alchemist and his Family, by Jan
Stein.

A superb and exquisite Portiaat of Ari-
oslo, by Titian.

The Trial of Skill betwixt Apollo and
Pan, by Gtddo.

440

APPENDIX VENICE PALACE MANFRINI.

An Fnfant St. John seated on the

jjrouml einl)vacing a lamb, by Do-

wt nielli no.
T\\o cm ions Portraits of a Man and

Woiiiuu, by Bcllolti.
On the ceilinc: is a superb painting in

oil, l)y Viuil Viromavy representing

tlie Aj>otl»eosis of llel)e.

\\\ turning to tlie right out of the
.Second IU)om, you enter a small
cabinet, in whicli you tind the fol-
lowing ])aintings : —

Poriraits uf his \\ ife, Child, and Self,
by Crior^ione.

Ilwo fine 'iVniers, a Gerard Dow, and
a Henibrandt.

Tlie \ irgin giving tlie Infant Christ to
St. Simon, by Giovanni da L'dine.

A Mieris, a Holbein, a X'andyck, and
a Bergiiem.

A Holy Family, by Conrgio.

Two Sea-pieces, by I'nndtt it hie .

A fine Muril/o : subject — a She|)herd
about to tune his Pipe.

Two Ostadis.

St. John preacliing in the Wilderness,
by Adrian Van Xicuien.

A Coronation of the \' irgin, by Paul
Veronese.

A Madonna, Infiint, and an Angel, by
Luea d'Olanda.

A fine cabinet painting of Lazarus, by
Domt nie/iino,

A Paul Potter.

Tlie V\ ater-Doctor, by Gerard Dow.

The next to the right contains : —

Fulvia [)incing the Tongue of Cicero
after his death.

A Holy Family, by Pahnu Vcechio.

Two pretty Landscapes, by Both's
brother.

Tlie Marriage of St. Catherine, by Paid
Vtroiitse.

A small Marine piece, by Veniet.

A small lunette Coronation of the Vir-
gin, l)y Fra Bartolomineo.

Lady with a Guitar, by Giorgionc.

Lcda, by Schiaione.

A Portrait of a Lady, by Palma Veeehu).

Portniit of Pordenone and five of his
Pupils, by himself.

A Magdalen, by Arigdiea Kaufman.

A Madonna, by Carlo Maratta.

I^indscapc, by Jon. Vemet.

Two fine ditto, by /i. Dictriek.

St. Cecilia and a Magdalen, by Carlo
Dolce.

Armida and Rinaldo, by Gufrcino.

A Lady with a Lyre, by Aiigeiua

Kaufman.
Astronomy, Chemistry, by Salvator

Rosa.
A Concession, by Sassofcrraii.
That fine allegorical painting of i\7-

cliolas PouasinSf where the Hours

dance while Time pla\s the Harp,

In the next apartment to the right are —

Fame, by the rich and warm pencil

of Strozzi.
Time discovering Truth, by Nicholas

Poufisin.
Flora, by Carlo Maratta.
A Cartoon, by Raphael. The subject :

Animals entering the Ark.
Two fine Landscapes, by Tempcsta.

You now enter a small room, in which
you find the history of painting
exemplified, from its revival under
Cimabue, Giotto, Andrea Montegna,
Guercento Padovano, Verrochio, &c.

Thence you enter an apartment, where

you find a Venus and Adonis, by

Flor.s.
A fine representation of the Death of

the latter, by Paul Veronese.
Racchus and Ariadne, by Contarini.
Diana and Acla^on, by Rottenhanvncr.
St. Cieorge, St. Margaret, and St. Au-

gustin, by the expressive pencil of

Tintoretto.
Charity, by Bronzino.
The Inf^mis Christ and St. John play-
ing with a Lamb, by Vandi/ck.
Two Slaves, seated and bound back to

back, by Rubens.
Time taking Love away, by Palma

Giovane.
Two beautiful Landscapes, by Zucca-

relli.
Two \'iews of Naples, by Franco

Guardi.
A fine rich painting of Bacchantes, by

Crosato.

THinD ROOM.

Birth of Christ, by the brilliant pencil
of (V/t*//.

Two fine Canalltttis.

Christ at Kmmaus, in the bold pen-
cilling of Delia Nottc.

The i*rodigal Son, by Guercino.

The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes,
another brilliant specimen of Ce-
lest I* s pencil.

Two Assjissins murdering a person, by
order of a third — Ddla Xotte. The
expres^ioFi of the victim is horrific.

APPENDIX VENICE THE CHURCHES.

441

Venus sharpening Cupid's Anows, by

the Chevalier Libert.
Gamblers, by Caravaggio,
A Vestal, by Gamhara.
Moses striking the Rock, by Carlo

Banone.
Joseph and Potiphar's Wife, and a

pleasing Landscape, by Padovanino.

FOUETH BOOM.

TUian^i celebrated Descent from the
Cross. .

A Holy Family, by Del Sarto,

Christ washing his Disciples' Feet, by
Pemgmo.

A Holy Family, by Bonifacio.

A Boar-hunt, by Rubens (small).

The Sacrifice of Iphigenia, by Varotari.

Two fine Portraits of Venetian Gene-
rals, by Imioretto and Paul VerO"

An Ecce, by Ltuhvico Caracci.

A fine Portrait of himself, by Rem-

brandi,
A Holy Family, by Lotto.
The Resurrection of Lazarus, by Se-

battian Bordone.
A Magdalen, by Conlarini.

St. Mark, by Fra Bartolommeo.
A small Prssepe, by Albani.

LAST ROOM.

Animals entering the Ark. Painted
with a strong expressi?e touch, by
Benedict Castiglione.

A Descent, by Raphael (small).

A Magdalen, by Corregio (small).

The Flight into Egypt, by Ludovico
Caracci (small).

Lucretia, by Gtado.

The Presentation of the Infant Christ
at the Temple, by Del Piombo.

The Ark — tne Figures by Trevi$ano,
the Landscape by Ernesto.

The Deluge, by Saraccino.

Portrait of Titian's Mother, by himself.

Game, by Jan Fyt.

Fortuna and Europa (in Guido's man-
ner), by Luca uiordano.

Da?id as the venerable Psalmist, by
Campagnola.

Diana bathins:, by Albani,

Bacchus and Ariadne, by Ludovico
Caracci.

Two Market Scenes, by Bolchman.

CHURCHES.

Church of La Salute.

In ihejirst Chapel to the right of the
siand altar — Birth of die Virgin, by
Luca Giordano,

In the second — ^An Assumption, by the
same.

In the third — Presentation at the Tem-
ple, by the same.

The Death of Abel, the Sacrifice of
Abraham, and the Victory of David
over Goliath, on the ceiling of the
sacristy, are all by Titian,

The form of the interior of the church
is octagonal, and was built as an ex-
voto on the cessation of a plague.

Church of St. George.

In thejirst Chapel to the left on enter-
ing — A Martyrdom of a Female
Saint, painted m 1345.

In the thvd Chapel — St. George and
the Dragon, by Carpaecio.

Chapel in the left limb of the croas —
Martyrdom of St. Stephen, by Ttn-
toretto.

In ihe^firsi to the right— Adoration of
the Shepherds, by Jucopo da Bas-

in the third — Martyrdom of several
Saints, by Tintoretto.

In the right limb of the cross —A Coro-
nation of the Virgin, by the same.

In a Chapel immediately to the right
of the grand altar — ^The Marriage in
Cana, with many portraits of 'the
time, by Paul Veronese.

In that to the left— Christ and his Dis*
ciples, with females washing their
garments. It is on the left column
supporting this chapel that the eye
of imagination can perceive a natural
representation of the Crucifixion im-
pressed on the marble.

The Four Evangelists, in bronxe, sup-
porting a globe, surmounted by a
figure of the Eternal, over the high
aUar, are by Geralamo Campagna.
The Life of St Benedict, carved in
wood in the choir, is by Alberto de
Brules.

Church of the Jesuits.

In the ,firsi Chapel— St. Christopher
with the Infant Jesus on his smwl-
ders ; and St. Mark (a copy).

L L

112

APPENDIX VERONA THE CHURCHES,

In tlio nfcond — A Statue of Sunta Bar-
bara, by Huratta.

Fartiier on, you c<Hne to a Statue of
tlie founder of the order, St. Ignatius;
and one of the Madonna and Cluld,
by Aijuiln Iridiuli.

In the //>.s/ Chapel to the left you see
tl)e famous Martyrdom of St. Law-
rence, \)y Titian.

In the sacristy — A Circumcision, by
Tinfoi t'tto.

The Tour Evan^eHsts, tlie Finding of
the Cross, anil Moses in the Wilder-
ness, are by Palma il Giovunc.

A little ofl' the thorouglifare, between
the Kialto and Piazza S. Marco,

stands the CnrucH of San Salva-
TOUE. It contains the tombs of
several doges, and some excellent
statuary bv Victorio, Giulio Mora,
atid others.
There is a painting of the Transfigura-
tion over the grand altar, by Titian ;
and, to the left, Christ at Emmaus,
by Gian Bcllino.

The Church of SS. Giovanni k
Paolo contains some magnificent
Monuments of the Doges ; a paint-
ing of St. Peter the Martyr, by
'Titian ; and some excellent alto-
reliefs, by Bonazzo.

In S. M. DEL Orto there is a fine Pre-
sentation, by Tintoretto,

VERONA

TUL DtJOMO.

Fir$t Chapel to the rig)it,over the altar
— The Virgin presenting the Child
Jesus to St. Anthony. Here are
also two well-executed Statues in
marble, rcpresenimg die jNlartyrdom
of a Saint.

'Third — A Transfiguration, by Ugolino.
(Modern.)

Fourth — A Last Supper, by the same
artist.

In tlie dome of the tribune — An As-
sum]>tion of the Virgin, by Francesco
Turbiilo. An excellent and boldly
conceived fresco.

The upper part of the choir is painted
in architectural device; and over a
balustrade you see the Apostles,
who arc regarding the Virgin in her
ascent to heaven.

In a Chajjel to tlie left of the grand
altar — The\ irgin and Child appear-
ing to seveial Saints, by C^alino.

Remark the paintings of the org.ins.

The tribune forms a handsome ellipsis,
the architecture of which is hy San
]\Tifhelc.

In the third to the left — The Vii-gin
and Child, Archangel St, Michael,
and St. (ieorge, by the Chrva/icr
Litter i.

Second — Jesus pointing to hisWounded
Side, also by Lilfcri.

First — The celebrated Assumption of
the Vir^nn, by Titian. This paint-
ing was once in the Louvre.

In the tribune, you see the Tomb of
Pope Lucius.

01)serve the small framed paintings of
the Stazione, usually so indifferently
executed, are here bcaucoup plus
soigncs, as the French express it.

Church of St. An astasia,
end of the Corso,

The /i/i/ Chapel to the right is dedicated
to the Kedeemer, adorned with sta-
tuary.

In the second — St. Anastasia perform-
ing a miracle.

'Third —A Statue of the Virgin stand-
ing on a globe, and bruising a ser-
pent under her feet ; on each side,
St. Joseph and St. Anthony : a group
of infant angels surmount the whole.

Fourth — A \\arrior-Saint on Horse-
back, llie horse is particularly
fine.

Observe some curious alto-reliefs in
plaster in the choir; and behind the
grand altar, a good oil painting of
the Martyrdom of St. AnasUisia.

In the chapel of the Holy Sacrament —

A Hagellation, by Ridtylji ; and the
Agony in the CJarden, by Bemardi,
The last is very well painted.

The only painting to the left that is
remarkable is ancient, but exhibits
considerable skill in the compo-
sition.

APPENDIX — MILAN.

443

CnuRCH OF San Zenome.

Obflerve the rude sculpture by the side
of the portal, and that on the bronze
doors.

Within — ^The Image of St. Ziii,a fresco
of St. George, a painting of the
Crucifixion, an Aaoration of the
Magi, and Christ disputing in the
Temple.

CauRCH OF S. Giorgio.

The body of this beaatiful church is
by StatMovmo, the cupola by San
Michele.

Oirer tlje high altar you see the Martyr-
dom of St George, by Paul Veronete ;
and St. Barnabas curing the Blind,
by the same.

Over the door—the Baptism of Christ,
by Tintoretto. (Marfyn.)

In the sacristy of S. M. della Vi-n

TORI A, there is a Descent from the
Cross, by Paul Veronese,

S.M. IN Org AN IS — St. Bernard beaten
by De?ils, by Luca Giordano.

The Guardian Angel, by Guercino,
{Martyn,)

The Town-Hall is by Santovino; and
the Palaces Poropri, Pellegrini, Bevi-
lacqua, and the Porta Stupa, or Del
Pallio, are by Michele,

The femily of the Drink waters, by the
way, are more numerous than one
would at first think : we have them
in England ; there are Boileaus,
again, in France ; and Bevilacquas,
as we see, in Italy. What between
these and the FVangipanes, a man
might get prison allowance in Italy
without the vile endurance that goes
to relish it elsewhere.

MILAN.

Tlie Ambrosia N Library is said to
contain 40,000 volumes, exclusive
of the manuscripts, which amount
to 14,000 or 15,000.

In the Cabinet of Paintings ad-
joining, you find the School of Athens,

in black chalk, by Raphael.
A Holy Family, by Barroccio.
Christ on the Cross, by Pietro da

Cortona.
His Burial, by Procaccino.
Several heads and small paintiogs, by

Albert Durer.
Several paintings, by Paul Brill and

Breughel.
Head of Paul III., by Michael Angelo.
Christ washing his Apostles' Feet, by

Pierino del Vaga.
A Head of a Boy, by Giorgione.
Burial of Christ ; Adoration of the

Magi ; a Portrait of himself, with a

long beard ; an Ecce Homo ; a
night landscape, and others,— all by
Titian.

An Ecce, a Magdalen, and a Virgin
and Child sitting under a tree, — by
Corregio.

Virgin and Child, and an Adoration of
the Magi, by Schidone.

Besides twelve folio volumes of draw-
ings, by Leonardo da Vinci. {Mar^
tyn.)

In the Refectory of the Chvrch of
S. M. DELLE Grazie, you see the
celebrated fresco of the Cenacolo;
and the Church of St, Francis is
said by Martyn to contain a paint-
ing of the Virgin and two Angels, by
Da Vinci.

The most ^celebrated of the Statues in
the Cathedral is tliat of St. Bartho-
lomew, by Marco Fcrrerio.

444

APPENDIX ROUTE.

ROUTE OF "THE RAMBLER."

Posts.
From Dieppe to Paris, by Gisors.

Bois-Ilobert 1 i

Poniervdl 2

Forges 3

Gournay 2^

Gisors 3

Chars 2

Pontoise ..... 2i

Franconville 1 ^

Saint Denis 1 J

Paris . 1

20i

From Paris to Lyons, by Auxerre.

Fontainebleau 7\

Sens 7

Villeneuve-le-lloi If

V lUevallier 1

Joigny 1

Basson l J^

Auxerre 2

Saint Bris 1

Vermanton 2

jAicy-le-Bois 2^

Avallon 1

Kouvray 2

La Uoche-en-Br(}ny l

SauUeu 1 »

Arnay 3

Chagny 4

Clialon-sur-Saone 2

Senecey 2

Tournus 1 i

Saint Albin 2

Macon , 2

Maison Blanche 2

St. Georges de Rognains ... 1 J

Anse 11

Limonest i^

Lyons 1 1

571

From Lyons to Avignon.

Saint Fons 1

Si. Sympliorien d'Ozon .... 1

Vienne \\

Auberive 2

Peage-cJe-Roussillon 1

Saint Kambert 1 ^

Saint X'allier ij

Tain 1|

V'allence 2 .i

La Paillasse i ^

Posts.

Loriol 1 .^

Derbi^res 1^

Montelimart 1 ^

Donzbre 2

La Palud 2

Mornas 1^

Orange 1|

Sore:ues 2

Avignon 1 i

From Avignon to Vaucluse.

LTsle 21

\ aucluse 1

3|
From Avignon to Montpellier.

Begude-de-Saze 2 J

La P^oux 2 i

St. Gervasy 1 :J

Nismes 1 ^

Uchau If

Lunel 13

Colombibres l .J

Montpellier 13

14

From Nismes to Aries 22

From Aries to Aix, by St. Remy,

about 9

From Aix to Pin 2

Pin to Marseilles 2

4

From Marseilles to Nice.

Aubagne 2

Cujes 1 J

Uv'tlUb>>Cl ..a........*.... tb

Toulon 2

Le Luc, by Cuers and Car-

noulles 7i

Vidauban If

Muy 12

Frejus 2

Leslrelles 2

Cannes 3

Antibes 2

Nice 4

31^

APPENDIX — KOUTB.

445

Potti.-^
From Nice to Genoa.

LaTonrbia 3

Meotone 3

San Remo 4|

Port Maurice 4^

Alasaio 4|

La Pietra 3

Finale H

Savona 3|

Vollri 4J

Genoa 3

34i

From Genoa to Lucca.

Recco 3

Rapailo 1|

Chiavari 1|

Bracco 2|

Mattarana 11

Borghetto 1|

Spezzia 3

Sanana 2i

Lavenza 1

Massa 1

Pietra Santa 1

Montramido 1

Lucca 2

23i

From Lucca to Pisa 3

Pisa t6 Leghorn 2

From Leghorn to Florence.

Pisa

Fomaoette

Castel del Bosco ....

La Scala

L'Imbrogiana

Lastra

Florence

8

From Florence to Rome, by Siena.

S. Casciano

Tavamelle

Poggibonsi

Casteglioncello

Siena

Montaione

BuoDCoovento

Toirinieri

Poderina •

Ricorsi

Radicofani

Pontecentino

Acquapendente ..,
San Lorenzo Nuovo

Bolsena

Montefiascone ....

Viterbo

Imposta

Ronciglione

Monte Rosi

Baccano

LaStorta

Rome

From Rome to Naples.
Torre di Mezza Via

Albano

Gensano

Velletri

Cistema

Tor-tre-Ponti

Bocca di Fiume . . .

Mesa

Ponte Maggiore . . •

Terracina

Fondi

Itri

Moladi Gaeta ....

Gariffliano

Sant^Agata

Sparanesi

Capua

Averta

Naples

f

i

k

h

21i

From Naples back to Rome^'by

Tivoli,about 23

From Rome to Florence, by Perugia.

Prima Porta 1

Castel Nuovo 11

Regnano 1

Cirita Castellana 1

Mai Borghetto f

Otricoli I

Nami 1

Temi I

Stretturs 1

Spoleto 1

La Vene 1

Foliffno 1

Madre degli Angeli 1

Penigia 1

La Maggione 1 1

Casa del Piano 1

446

APPENDIX ROUTE.

Posts.

Cumuscia

Casliglioiie

Aiczzo \]

Ponticirio 1

Levane 1

San Giovanni l

I/Incisa l

Ponte a Sieve i J

Florence 1 ^

27

From Florence to Bologna.

Fontebuona 1

C'afaiigiola 1

Monlt'careiii 1

C'ovigliaio 1

Filigare 1

Loiano I

Pianoro 1 i

IJologna 1 .^

9

From Hologna to \'enice.

Capo d'Argine I

Malalbergo 1

Ferrara 1 ^

PoIiselUi 2

Kovigo 1 ]

Monseiice 1 i

Padua li

11 Dolo 1^

Fu.sina 1 i

X'euice (by water four miles)

13

From Venice to Milan.

P'usina (four miles by water)

Dulo

Parlua

Slesci^a

Viconza

(Turned oil' to visit Bolca)

\ erona

C'dstelnuovo

Desenzano

Pontc San Marco

Brescia

Ospedaletto

Cliiari

Ante*;uate

Caravag^io

I'assano

C'oloml)erolo

Milan

41

i

22 1

POitS

From Milan to Geneva, by the
Simplon.

llho IV

Cascina buon Gfcsu li

Avona 2

Sesto 1

Baveno 21

\ ouoijna 3

Domo Dussola 2

Isella 21

Simplon 21

Berisaal 3

Brigg 3

\'ioge li

Tourlernagne 2i

Sierre 21

Sion 21

Hiddcs 21

Martigny 21

(Turned off to visit Chamouni)

St. Maurice 2

V'ionna 11

St. Giiigo 21

Fvian 21

Thonon 1 »

Douvaines 2]

Geneva 2

5U
From Geneva to Paris.

Gex 2

l.a Vattay 2

Les llousses 1 J

Morez l ^

St. Laurent l .]

Maison-Neuve l i

Champagnole 1^

Montrond I .^

I'oligny U

Mont-sous- Vaudrey 21

Dole 21

Auzotmc 2

Genlis 1^

Dijon 2

V'al de Suzon 2

St. Seyne 11

C'hanceaux 1 ^

\'illenPuve-les-Couvers .... 1 ]

Montbard 21

Aizv-sur-Armant on 1 .1

Ancy-le-Franc 2

Tuunerre 21

Flogiiy 1 J

Si. Florentin 1 ^

Fsnon ] \

.b'i'iny 2

\ illeviilht^r 1

N »lk'Meu\c-le-Hui 1

APPENDIX ROUTE MONEYS.

447

Sens If

Ponte-le-Roi 1|

Villeneuve-le-Guiard 1 1

Fossard 1

Panfou 1|

Chfttelet 1

Melun IJ

Liensain 1|

Villeneave St. Georges If

ChareDton 1 j

Paris 1

64

From Paris to Calais.

St. Denis 1

Moisselles 1

Beaumont-sur-Oise 1

Puiseux 1

Noailles I

Beauvais 1

Noiremont 2

Brcteuil 1)

Posts.

Flers U

Uebecourt 1

Amiens 1

Picquigny 1 1

Flixecourt 1

Ailly-le-Haat.Clocher H

Abbeville li

Nouvion 1 1

Bemay 1

Nampont 1

Montreuil-sur-Mer 1 J

Cormont ' 1 1

Samer 1

Boulogne-sur-Mer 2

Marquise If

Haut-Buisson 1

6alais U

34*

Total distance, without including
d^oursy 2675 miles.

ITALIAN MONEYS.

Tuscan Monct.

A Quattrino,

Three of which make one Soldo.

Five one Crazia.

Eight Crazie one Paulo.

A Crazia and a half one Lira.
Ten Pauls one Frances-
cone or Scudo.
Twenty Pauls .... one Zecchino.

Sixty ditto one Ruspone.

The average value of a Paul is about
five-pence halfpenny.

Roman Monet.

A Baiocchoy

Ten of which make one Paulo.

Ten Pauli one Scudo, or

Spanish Dollar.
Thiity-two Pauli . . one Doppia.

Neapolitan Monet.
A Grana.
Ten of which make one Carlino.

Ten Carlini one Ducato.

132 grains make one Scudo, and a
Spanish Dollar is worth 124 grains.

The coins current in the Milanese are
of all sorts, Svriss, Austrian, and
French; but none are more conve-
nient for the traveller than the last,
as they are current, and advantage-
ously so, all over Italy.

THE END

LONDON : J. MOTES, CASTLB STRfET, LEICESTER SQUARE.

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