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ART AND NATURE

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

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ART AND NATURE

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

By M. J. W. D.

EDINBURGH: THOMAS CONSTABLE AND CO.
HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., LONDON.

MDCCCI.II.

EDINBURGH : T. CONSTABLE. PRIKTEE TO EBB MAJESTY

THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON

THIS VOLUME

IS DEDICATED AS A TlIIIll'TE OF AFFECTION

II Y M. J. M. D.

CONTENTS.

TAGK

Introduction, ... . •

The Domo of Milan, ...

4:i

Tin: Bbeba Gallery, ....

Genoa, .....-•

Visit to Pompeii, ......

Vesuvius, .......

104

Bale, .......

114

Hebculaneum, ......

121

Castellamare and Sorrento, ....

123

Lago D'Agkami and the Solfatara,

129

P.kstum, .......

137

Amai.fi, .......

143

Second Ascent of Vesuvius, ....

147

Rome, .......

157

The Vatican Statuaby by Torchlight, .

167

St. Peter's, .......

17:;

The Pbotestant Bubyinq-Gbound,

181

St. John Lateran, ......

187

Picture Galleries. ......

190

CONTEXTS.

Vespers, ....

The Catacombs,

museum of the capitol,

Bracciano, ....

reception is the colonna paeace,

The Vatican Pictures and Frescoes,

Villas,

The Miserere.

Interview with the Tope,

Illumination of St. Peter':

Departure from Rome,

Florence,

Visit to Fiesole,

Leaving Florence,

Bologna,

Ferrara,

Padua,

Venice.

PAGE

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269
273
278
282
287

ART AND NATURE

UNDER AX IT A 1.1 A.M SKY

NTRODUCTION.

AJtious motives combine to make me wish to
keep something like a Journal during our
present tour. It is always a peculiar plea-
sure to me to possess a memorial of the
past, (.'specially if that past lias been marked
by change of scene, or the calling forth of new
feelings ; but to be able thereby to recall vividly
those scenes and feelings, so as to share them
with those who have either experienced or can sym-
pathize with them, makes such a record more valuable
still. The painful part of leaving England and our own
quiet home just now. is the consequent separation from
our dear child, thankful though we are that she will be
most kindly and tenderly cared for. Yet the idea, that if
it please Grod to spare her, that dear child may, in after
years, read the record of these days, will, I feel, add much
to the enjoyment of employing my spare moments of rest

INTRODUCTION.

or leisure in a way that may hereafter contribute to her
pleasure or instruction.

We embarked at Blackwall in the steamer for Antwerp —
September 1845. The "Soho" seems a noble vessel, and is
fitted up so as to secure as much of comfort for her passengers
as usually falls to the lot of mortals in such a conveyance,
which, however, I must confess, so far as my personal expe-
rience extends, is not saying much. Having secured a com-
fortable seat on deck, I amused myself, as we glided clown the
river, with the scene of bustle, so striking and bewildering to
any one who passes for the first time through that world of
shipping in the Thames. One's fellow-passengers, too, come
in for some share of interest on such occasions, and of criti-
cism also, which doubtless is generally mutual. Near me sat
a good-natured and somewhat portly dame, with a pleasing-
looking daughter. The former amused me considerably : her
remarks were precisely what one so often meets with in books.
She was one of those people who bear that unmistakable mark
of having risen in the world, viz., an evident anxiety to im-
press you with the opposite. She took care to leave no doubt
as to her being quite rich and able to do as she liked, while
the allusions to " her house," " her carnage," " her servants,"
&c, were exactly the kind of thing Miss Edgeworth and other
writers have so often depicted. Among other pieces of infor-
mation she gave me to understand that she had been " a great
traveller," though it very shortly appeared that she had never
before left England. This worthy individual was nevertheless
both good-natured and kind. The daughter, a happy, joyous-
looking girl, entered with all her heart into every novelty of
this her first expedition — having, as her mother informed me,
just left school. Le Pere, a thorough John Bull, according
to my ideas of that generic personage — rather coarse and blunt,

INTRODUCTION.

but withal very kindly. A young married couple on their
wedding tour ; a brother and sister ; a young lady, with her
French maid in close attendance upon her : these were our
principal compagnons de voyage, if 1 except a most uncom-
panionable-looking lady of imposing stature, who, if she did
not look down upon, at least took no other notice of any one.
The usual accompaniments of a rough sea and head wind.
which, as every one will allow, are more personally interesting
in experience than in detail, made up the history of our
twenty hours' passage from Blackwall to the mouth of the
Scheldt, where, next morning, we came on deck to gaze with
some curiosity on the first foreign habitations, albeit these
constituted only the poor little town of Flushing. After
some five or six weary hours of toiling up the river, we beheld,
at length, the venerable towers of Antwerp, which, from the
flatness of the country, and the high banks which intersect it.
have the appearance, at a distance, of being half-buried, or of
growing up from the level plain on which they stand. As
we swept round into the Quay of Antwerp, fatigued as I was,
I could not but be amused at the scene of energetic confusion
that speedily prevailed. The water being low, we could not
approach any proper pier for landing, and some huge masses
of floating timber had to be lashed together before we could
leave the vessel. This, for aught I know, may be an incon-
venience purposely left unremoved, to prevent passengers
making their escape before the douaniers can come upon
them. Speedily these worthies appeared on deck, and then
confusion became worse confounded, and the bustle almost
frantic. For myself, I waited quietly, knowing that my hus-
band was getting our passports visaed, and that rushing to
and fro, as some seemed doing, in a fever of excitement, would
not expedite matters. Meanwhile, my long-cherished dread

-1 INTRODUCTION.

of foreign custom-houses was not relieved by seeing the manner
in which some of our companions fared ; yet 1 soon perceived
that some of the officers were rougher than others, and fixing
on an old man, I made friendly advances to him, civilly
telling him we had nothing contraband, that I was much
fatigued with the voyage, and unable to exert myself in re-
packing my boxes if they should be pulled about. In short, I
quite propitiated the aged official, who, lifting up my dresses
most carefully, just peeped in : "Tres bien, tres bien. Made-
moiselle, e'est fini ;"' ordering all belonging to me to be locked
and prepared for his mark. This grand crisis in a traveller's
fate being over so much more pleasantly than anticipated, we
stepped right gladly upon foreign ground. On the way to the
hotel we were at once struck with the great cleanliness of the
town, as well as with its wide and well-paved streets; nor did
Antwerp sink in our estimation by our reception at the hotel.
The "St. Antoine" is a most comfortable house, with an ex-
cellent table-d'hote, where one meets with those desirable but
seldom combined elements of the wayfarer's entertainment —
good dinner, good waiting, and a moderate charge.

Towards evening we sallied forth, to make the best of our
short stay, and bent our steps to the Eglise St. Jacques. It
is a fine old church. The rich carving and ornaments of the
interior are exrpiisitely finished, and the lofty ceiling of pure
white, spangled with gold stars, though peculiar, has a pleasing-
effect there. The great object is the tomb of Rubens, imme-
diately behind the high altar. There is an inscription on the
tomb, and above, portraits of himself and a number of his
relatives. The colouring is rich, and some of the faces are
interesting. Placed above the picture is a figure in marble
of the Virgin Mary, chosen and brought here by Rubens him-
self There is a small oval picture by Vandyke, which I liked,

[NTRODUCTION. 5

but no other struck me. Od Leaving St. Jacques, we weni to
the Cathedral, «>i' which the good city is so .justly proud. I
never before saw anything like the exquisite stone carving of
the spire : its tracery, on Looking from below, seems to have
the delicacy of the finest Brussels Lace. The interior is im-
posing, and from its simple purity, united with its grandeur,
the coup d'ceil is very satisfying. The massive pillars stand
alone and unencumbered, with uothing to mar the symmetry
and beauty of their proportions.

But the great attraction of the interior we had yet to see.
and this was readily confessed when the " Suisse de l'Eglise"
drew aside the curtain which hangs before the great master-
piece of Rubens, " The Descent from the Cross." I was much
affected as I gazed upon it. There is a more than human
expression in the countenance of Jesus, and in that touching
resignation which appears in every feature, and which the
recent anguish of death has had no power to overcome ! Vet
with all this truthfulness of moral expression, death is indel-
ibly engraven on every feature and on every limb ! When I
could look at the other parts of this glorious picture, the next
object which rivetted my attention was the lovely face of the
mother of Jesus. A mother's grief is imprinted upon that
countenance, which is itself almost as pale as the lifeless form
she lieh olds. But there is a subdued and holy calm also in
the expression, such as one expects to find. The other two
Marys have, each in a varied degree, the same look of sorrowful
interest in the scene. Then, as if to shew the artist's power,
he has introduced a noble-looking Roman woman, with her
babe in her arms, and the same sadness in her face. Still
more remarkable is the expression given to an old withered
crone, who is supposed to be there to perform the last offices
for the dead : she stands still, as though arrested in the very

6 INTRODUCTION.

act of approaching him. One fancies some such feeling has
dawned upon her as that which caused the Roman soldier to
cry out, " Truly this was the Son of God." The next picture
is Rubens's " Elevation of the Cross :" a very fine painting
also, but inferior to the other. The " Ascension of Mary" is
another of Rubens's chef d'ceuvres, called his ''Bouquet;" but
though some of the faces have great loveliness, the subject is
repugnant to one's feelings. There are fine specimens of
painting by Rubens's master, which we saw to great advan-
tage, thanks to the intelligence of the " Suisse." Before we
left the cathedral we much enjoyed the fine effect of the
organ pealing through that vast space and filling it with
solemn sounds.

We returned to the hotel, and after a refreshing cup of
cafe uu lait, retired to rest. Next morning left by railway for
Brussels. The railway carriages are very comfortable, and in
every respect equal to our own. The country is quite flat,
but pretty and cultivated, and English-looking. The road
traverses the village of Berchem. winch was the head-quarters
of the French general Gerard during the famous siege of
Antwerp. It is strange to fancy the peaceful gardens and
orchards which now surround it, once the scene of bloodshed
and all the horrors of war. Passed Mechlin or Malines, the
celebrated lace manufactory : and, after seeing the old Palace
Laeken, where Napoleon decided on his disastrous expedition
to Moscow, we reached Brussels. The first view of Brussels
is striking. The Boulevards give an air of gaiety to the city,
and the houses seem well built and handsome. We drove to
the " Hotel de Flandres," in the Place Roy ale ; and, after
speaking to a civil landlady, were shewn to the pretty, cheerful
room in which I am now writing, with a large window looking
into the Grande Place. The following morning visited the

INTRODUCTION. 7

Cathedral. It is a massive |>ile of building, very rich, but
without the elaborate elegance of Antwerp. Yet the scene
on entering was very imposing. The windows of stained glass
arc beautiful ; and the varied tints cast around had something
like enchantment in their effect, On one side the sun shone
brightly through, and the reflections of the brilliant colours
on the pillars were like gems amidst the imaged leaves and
flowers. A few yards farther on, and the chief colour from
the next window was a blood-red. This cast a sunset radiance
on the pure white marble, tinting now a group of kneeling
figures, now a statue, and again bringing into light and life
the old grey time-worn arches. The whole centre of the vast
building was rilled with people ; but I could not look at the
miserable tinsel figures of the Virgin and the infant Jesus
before which they were kneeling ! It was truly a painful
sight.

The Rhine — the beautiful Rhine— is before us ! We have
stood beside its banks ; and as I write at this moment, I have
but to lift my eyes from the paper to behold it in all its
glowing beauty. I have determined at least to write a few
lines before again going out, in order, if possible, still more
vividly to fix this scene in the page of memory. It is one
such as I have not hitherto looked upon. A rich mellow
tint is east on the distant wood-clad hills, on the nearer,
swelling meadow lands and studded villages, nestling calm
and peaceful among vineyards and poplar groves, while the
majestic river sweeps its onward course, making its waves a
blessing as they pass ! I fully appreciate at this moment that
line in Byron's exquisite description of the Rhine, —

'• There can be no farewell to scene like thine,
The mind is coloured by thy every line."'

And now having as it were traced a mental sketch in these

[NTRODUCTION.

few words, I must return to where I last wrote, and notice
some of the passing events of the last two days.

On leaving Brussels we took our places in the railway to
( Jologne. For a railway our progress was slow, and the heat
and dust ahn< ist insufferable. The country to Liege is very un-
interesting. At Louvain we caught a glimpse of the beautiful
Hotel de Ville. the architecture of the richest Gothic. After
passing liege the scenery becomes interesting. The town
itself lies in a valley, with villas scattered on the sides of the
hills, surrounded by orchards and gardens. The quantity of
hops seems a characteristic here ; each house has a large
plantation attached of these graceful hanging northern vines.
The line passes through the valley of the Vesdre, a riant
champaign, with wooded slopes, winding streams, picturesque
cottages, and little village churches, with tall spires, looking
out from sheltered nooks. It is a rich and varied scene for
a railway to pass through; and it was peculiarly refreshing,
amidst the dust and heat and noise, to look out on these
smiling homes. At Venders we had to change carriages,
and 1 shall not soon forget the scene of confusion which
ensued. The whole tiring is most wretchedly managed : a
miserable little room, with one table, on which lay a few stale
cakes and biscuits, was all the accommodation and relief for
our heat, thirst, and weariness ! Of course it was crammed,
so there was no remaining in it. Outside was the alternative
i it' a broiling sun, clouds of dust and tobacco, combined with
the hissing of steam-engines, and men and women screaming
(Merman ! Yet there we had to wait full half an hour before
even the carriages were prepared. Then came such rushing
and pushing, in the midst of which I was almost laid pros-
trate by the elbow of a huge German, with a beard like a
wild beast.

INTRODUCTION. '.'

The country continued extremely pretty, all of the same
sunny character, with every now and then a glassy river, with
wooded banks and shady pools. As the evening advanced it
became cool and refreshing. One lady in the carriage was
very agreeable, evidently a German, but speaking French
well. We had a good deal of conversation on various sub-
jects. Amongst other things J found she had lived a good

deal at Mannheim, and knew dear M quite well. She,

as well as several others whom 1 have met with, mentioned
her in terms which delighted me, and which I longed tor
D to hear !

We reached Aix-la-Chapelle about seven. It is the first
Prussian search, but as we were booked to Cologne we were
not examined. We got to Cologne station soon after nine,
and were agreeably surprised with the contrast between the
Prussian and Belgian way of conducting matters. The ser-
vants civil — no hustle or confusion. The foreign arrange-
ments in regard to railway luggage seem very good. We
were all shewn into a large room, with a railing round a
spare in the midst, into which all the trunks, bags, and boxes
were brought. The number of your luggage ticket, which
has been put on each of your boxes at the station where you
booked, is then called out by yourself, or given to a porter,
and so in turn everything is infallibly deposited at the feet of
its owTier. I made friends with a very civil Prussian douanier,
on whom I practised the device so successful at Antwerp —
and he most accommodatingly gesticulated and acquiesced in
all I said; " Bah, c'est ca, bien, bien \" helped to get our
things together, and giving us a ticket, declared us free; and
so the second of these dreaded searches was over. I slipped
a trifle into this man's hand, but not till after all was over,
therefore nut bv wav of bribe, but in reward of his civilitv.

10 INTRODUCTION.

A capital omnibus took us to the Hotel Germanie, close to
the cathedral, our reason for choosing it. It is a large estab-
lishment, but without the little comforts of Antwerp and
Brussels ; however we slept well, and found the beds very com-
fortable. In the morning, after breakfast, we proceeded to
the grand object of interest here. Of any we have yet seen,
this cathedral is perhaps the most difficult to describe ; for
while all must allow and admire its gorgeous architecture and
magnificent internal decorations, I for one was unable to feel
its beauty as I did that of the others already noticed. It is
in an interesting state at present. After having remained
almost a ruin for centuries, the King of Prussia has yearly
contributed a large sum towards its restoration and comple-
tion. It is difficult to realize what the effect will be of the
vast towers which are contemplated to carry out the original
plan of the architect. Well may it be said that when finished
it will be the " St. Peter's" of Gothic architecture. The choir
is the only part finished : it is a very vision of splendour !
The five painted windows in the north, executed in 1508,
with their rich hues and quaint devices, are singularly beau-
tiful. The great height, the double range of stupendous
buttresses, and the brilliant colouring and gilding all around,
produce a wondrous and dazzling effect upon the mind.
Some very old paintings have recently been discovered ; one
of them in a side chapel bears the date of 1410. The colours
are surprisingly vivid, and there is also a peculiar softness
which is pleasing ; but the total disregard of perspective in
these earliest productions destroys, in a great measure, one's
first appreciation of them.

We next visited the " Shrine of the Three Kings of
Cologne." The legend is, that these were the magi who
brought presents to our Lord at Bethlehem. The shrine is a

[NTRODUOTION.

large case, the greater part of solid silver gilt, the front of
pure gold. The precious stones set in every pari of it are
enormous ; and though many were taken out at the time of
the French Revolution, and replaced with imitations, still

enough remain to give an idea of the immense value of the
shrine. It is still estimated to be worth six million francs,
about £240,000. The contrast to all these splendid gems is
ghastly when you are shewn three skulls, said to have been
those of "Gaspar," " Balthazar," and "Melchior," with golden
crowns placed around them, and the names inscribed in
rubies above each ! Near this strange tomb is a slab of
marble, covering the heart of - Mary of Medicis." In the
sacristy we were shewn a shrine of richly chased silver, with
beautiful bas-reliefs, containing the bones of St. Engelbert,
who founded the cathedral, and some exquisite carvings in
ivory. A magnificent vase of rock crystal, ornamented with
precious stones, and a sword of state of great antiquity, borne
by the Electors of Cologne at the coronation of the emperors,
are also kept here. In the afternoon started by railway for
Bonn. The Royal Hotel here is a sumptuous mansion, with
a noble staircase and salon. Our room I have already de-
scribed as overlooking a scene of great loveliness. In the
cool of the evening we wandered out ; and first passing a
part of the celebrated university, went to a garden, at one end
of which is a kind of rampart, with parapets overlooking the
river, and from thence we enjoyed again that most beautiful
scene, clothed if possible in richer glories by the tints of the
setting sun. Having visited the various objects of interest in the
town itself, amongst others a noble bronze statue of Beethoven
just erected close to the cathedral, we returned heartily tired
after such a day. Sorry as we were to say farewell to Bonn,
we had to do so next morning at seven, when we stepped on

12 INTRODUCTION.

board the steamer for Coblentz. The real Rhine scenery be-
gins immediately on leaving Bonn. In a few minutes the

castled erag of Drachenfels, " frowning o'er the wide and

winding Rhine/' was before us, and we were gazing on the

scene so often pictured by fancy when reading tales connected

witli it.

" Tli-' frequent feudal towers
Through green haves lift their walls of grey,
Looking o'er this vale of vintage bowers."

One which is particularly beautiful, and also interesting from
its romantic story, is the " noble arch, in proud decay," of
Rolandseek. It looks down on the Convent of Nonnenwerth,
where Roland's betrothed bride was bnmured, whilst he lived
a lonely hermit in the castle. The convent is now a hotel,
but most picturesque in its situation and external appearance.
The road becomes visible here as it winds along the banks.
Its foundations were laid by the Romans, so that as early as
a.d. 161, there was a road here. It would be tedious were I
to describe in succession the lovely points of view which each
moment revealed, but one or two I cannot pass without some
notice. The situation of the castle of Rheineck is one of the
most striking. On a perpendicular rock of great height,
wooded from the base of the castle to the banks of the river,
it stands in venerable grandeur. Just after passing it, is
the last view of the Drachenfels, with its bold craggy outline
in the blue distance — Rheineck in the bright foreground, and
the graceful bend of the river as it sweeps away from you.
There is not a more beautiful combination of picturesque
objects on the whole of the Rhine than at this spot. "An-
dernach" is a quaint old town, remarkable for two singular
quarries of stone ; but after passing it there is no peculiar
beauty in the scenery until near " ( loblentz" where it seems to

[NTRODUCTION. 13

burst afresh upon yon. We had made acquaintance during
the day with a nice English girl and her brother, who landed
with us at Coblentz.

The Hotel dii Greant, from which I now write, had been re-
commended to both parties. It is on a gigantic stale certainly;
an excellent table-d'hote. with a capital band playing whilst
we dined. Our private room, however, is on the ground-floor,
so we have all the noise with none of the view of the river.
In the cool of the evening we hired a liacre, and drove to the
Chartreuse. Passing through the town, and a part of the
extensive fortifications, we reached the Forts of Constantine
and Alexander. The size and height of these forts, situated
on lofty rocks, are immense. The view, as we ascended the
Chartreuse, became more and more magnificent. Ehren-
hreitstein, the " Gibraltar of the Rhine," is the grandest
feature. On the one side is the magnificent Rhine, flowing
calmly on, and at your very feet the blue sparkling Moselle,
which joins the Rhine at the base of the Chartreuse. How
intensely 1 enjoyed that evening's drive !

We started next morning at nine o'clock, and were soon
rapidly losing sight of Ehrenbreitstein, St< >lzenfels, and the
other beautiful features of the landscape around Coblentz.
The character of the scenery here entirely changes. Instead
of the sunny slopes, smiling meadows, and hanging vineyards,
which hitherto had given such softness of beauty to the banks
of the river, the mountains close in upon it, and you appear
to be suddenly transported into a narrow defile; black pre-
cipitous rocks cast their shadows on the water, and frowning
castles rear their sombre masses against the sky, carrying the
mind back to feudal times and barbarous ages. One of the
very finest scenes I have yet beheld was soon after leaving
Braubach. There is a small town with a chateau at the

14 INTRODUCTION.

water's side. It stands at the foot of a high conical-shaped
rock, and on this rock is the noble castle of Marksburg, the
most perfect on the Rhine. It is the very beau ideal of an
old castle, with its battlements and loopholes, and walls which
seem as though nought but the ivy could scale them. Another
sweep of the river brought into view a pretty village embo-
somed in trees. There are white cottages nestling beneath
their shade, while a tall church spire shoots above them.
Just as we were passing, the brightest sunshine glowed upon
this village — upon its meadows stretching to the water's edge,
and upon the wooded bank opposite ; yet leaving the old
castle in the deepest shade. At the same moment another
gleam of light fell on the mountains behind the height of
Marksburg, so that all was light, save the dark old ruin itself,
and the rugged rock on which it stands. It was one of those
exquisite pictures, with a combination of everything to make
it perfect, one sometimes for a moment meets with. The
next place of much interest is St. Goar, overhung by the
vast fortress of Rheinfels. It is of great extent, but quite in
ruins. Here we had to part with our pleasant travelling-
companions — the brother and sister already mentioned, who
landed at St. Goar to see Rheinfels, and were then to go to
Wiesbaden. The scenery continues most striking after leav-
ing St. Goar, the rocks so wild and precipitous, closing in
on both sides of the stream. One part has quite an awful
character. On either hand are these black rocky barriers ;
beneath one bank is a dark whirlpool, and by the other a
rapid, formed by the stream dashing over sunken rocks, and
with a force increased by the narrowness of its bed. At the
village of Caub is the spot where Blucher crossed the Rhine
with his army on new year's night, 1814. It was on coming
in sight of it that his soldiers burst forth into one simultane-

INTRODUCTION. 15

ous cry, "The Rhine — the Rhine!" and truly one does not
wonder thai this bounteous and beautiful river should have
been through all ages Buch an object of reverence, as well as
affection, to the Grermans.

The castle of Rheinstein next attracted our notice. It
stands on a projecting Ledge of rock, with masses of rich wood
behind and around it. This castle has been restored and
beautifully fitted up as a modern residence. Opposite Rhein-
stein is the village of Assmanshausen, which gives its name
to the famous Rhine wine. It is strange to see the vine-
yards reaching to the very tops of what might he thought
inaccessible heights, on narrow ledges of rock, like successive
terraces cut in the mountain. The vine-dressers are forced to
scale the face of the rocks sometimes by ropes, and also to
carry up a great part of the soil in baskets on their shoulders.
The value of these grapes here is so great, that even those
that drop are picked up with forks made for the purpose.
They hang very long, the vintage not beginning until Novem-
ber. I got all my information on this subject, as well as about
the places on the Rhine, from a remarkably pleasing young
man who was escorting his mother, an old infirm lady. To
her I happened to have rendered some little assistance, which
seemed to gratify her son. who. in return, was extremely kind,
explaining every thing as we went along, and lending me
sundry hooks and ma | is. We had a great deal of conversa-
tion after dinner, discussing various subjects. 1 remained
sitting by the old lady whilst her son was walking about : so
that I was not far from them when he returned with an old
veteran officer, saying to his mother he had met with a
friend of hers. To my surprise the old gentleman bent his
knee before her, and kissing her hand said, " J'ai rhonneur de
saluer Madame la Duchesse." In the course of conversation

l(i INTRODUCTION.

some little time after, I happened to ask, to whom belonged
a magnificent palace Ave saw, " All ! c'est a mon consin le
Prince de Nassau." After a little while he pointed out a
building in the distance, saying, " C'est le palais de mon frere
le Due regnant de" .... I could not catch the name,
from my ignorance of German. He announced to me that he
was married to the most charming woman in the world, and
that he loved all English people for her sake. There was
much that was very pleasing about him. His manners frank,
kindly, and unaffected. As we drew near Biberich, the cha-
teau of the Duke of Nassau, he told me they were to land
there, and as we had discovered that we had some mutual
acquaintances, both he and his mother invited us in the
kindest manner to come and see them. We had a most
friendly parting. Madame la Duchesse overwhelmed us with

good wishes, and M. le Prince CI requested that we

might exchange cards as a little remembrance of our meeting.
We reached Mayence about half-past six, and went imme-
diately to the pleasant and quiet Hotel de Hesse. In the
evening walked out by moonlight, merely to breathe the fresh
air, for it was too late to see anything of the town. The
scenery above Mayence is monotonous and uninteresting ; so
I occupied myself on deck next morning writing letters till
dinner-time. We had a quick passage, getting to Mannheim
in about six hours. Leaving our luggage on landing, at the
station, we at once proceeded to find the palace. It was very

interesting to me to see the place where D was married,

and of which I have heard so much. It is a fine building,
and though not distinguished for beauty of architecture, is
imposing from its size and situation. The grounds and ter-
races are tastefully laid out, and there is a very fine distant
view of the Vosges Mountains. I picked a rose from one of

[NTRODUCTION. 17

the flower-beds, to keep as a memento of my having visited

M 's home ! We returned in time for the last train to

Heidelberg, which we readied in about half-an-hour. After
tea we wandered out, and crossed the beautiful bridge which
spans the Neckar, immediately behind Heidelberg. . The air
was balmy and delicious, and as the dim twilight closed in,
we were much struck with the scene on looking back. The
wooded mountain which forms the fine background of the
town, lay with an outline sharply defined against the clear
sky, while the moon, which was just rising behind it, cast all
in front into a gloom, rendered only the deeper by the many
twinkling lights running in lines here and there along
invisible streets. Immediately before us, placed upon the
ends of the bridge, were tall sculptured figures, rising still
and solemn into the silvery moonbeams which now fell on the
upper portion of their forms. Beyond these was the massive
arch of the gateway, through which we had passed beyond
the walls, and the sombre roof of the old cathedral rising
above it. We had come here in hope of getting a moonlight
glimpse of the old castle, but could do nothing more than
imagine where it might be, amid the dark shadows of the
overhanging mountains. Our ramble, notwithstanding, was
a very pleasant one.

We were early astir next morning, impatient to visit the
magnificent castle. Such a carriage-road as that leading to
it I never beheld. Looking from the bottom its steepness
seems almost impracticable even for bipeds. How the two
quadrupeds in our carriage contrived to scramble up I know
not, being too nervous to open my eyes till the summit was
reached. But I speedily had to confess that the object gained
might reconcile one to much greater perils. We went all
over this noble and most impressive ruin. The guide pointed

L8 INTRODUCTION.

out the part built by Frederick IV., 1607, in the facade of
which are ancestral statues of the reigning house of Bavaria.
Then the building of Otho Henry, 1549-59, the finest part of
the castle. Here the architecture is beautiful, and the sculp-
ture very rich. The Octagon Tower lies in ponderous ruined
masses, occasioned by the stroke of lightning, which indeed
finally destroyed the castle in 1764. The date of the erection
of the oldest part of the building is 1300, by the Elector
Rudoph, whose statue is still to be seen. The English build-
ing and gate were both erected in 1612, for our Princess
Elizabeth Stuart, (daughter of James I., and grand-daughter,
of course, of Mary Queen of Scots,) by her husband, Elector
Frederick. I remember when at Burley, reading a very inter-
esting memoir of this Princess, and many parts of it were
recalled as I marked the home she describes ; particularly
the triumphal arch leading to her own flower-garden, with its
pillars twined with sculptured ivy leaves, which was built to
commemorate her marriage. There seems to have been a good
deal of ambition, as well as strength of character, in this
Princess. When her husband hesitated to accept the Crown
of Bohemia, her reply is said to have been — " Let me rather
eat dry bread at the table of a king, than feast at that of an
Elector" — and she had literally to do so before she died.

There is part of a tower remaining, built by Elector Louis,
of which the walls are twenty-two feet thick. It was destroyed
in the last bombardment by the French, under Chamilly, whose
brutality was atrocious. The famous tun, the largest wine
butt in the world, is in the cellar below, but having no
curiosity about this Bacchanalian marvel, we preferred wan-
dering through the lovely woods and grounds. One view
from the terrace, overhanging the river, was vividly impressed
on my memory. The Neckar flows forth from its vine-clad

INTRODUCTION. \<j

valley, to fertilize the spreading plain, which opens to the
south. In the distance is the noble Rhine, with the spires of
Mannheim, and the castle of Baden ; and even the spire of
the cathedral at Strasbourg, it is said, may at times be seen.
The whole landscape is bounded by the outline of the Vosges
Mountains. The last moment we could spare was spent in
re-viewing this rich and varied expanse, and then returning
to the hotel, we left by railway for Strasbourg. Our passports
were visied, and our luggage examined on the German side of
the Rhine at Kehl, and then crossing we found ourselves
upon French ground, in tolerably comfortable quarters in
the " Ville de Paris," Strasbourg.

During a stay of three days we had abundant time to
admire the various objects of interest in the town. Chief
among these is, of course, th.e cathedral ; its spire the loftiest
in the world, and its painted windows I should suppose among
the finest. Then the wonderful clock, with its complicated
automata, that used to excite the imagination of our child-
hood, even in the pages of the old familiar school-book, was
duly examined too. A beautiful monument erected by Louis
XV., to the memory of Marechal Saxe, is well placed in the
nave of the church of St. Thomas, now used by a Protestant
congregation. The noble figure of the Marechal is the first
object on which the eye fixes. In full armour, his head
crowned with laurels, and his baton in one hand, he is calmly
descending the steps which lead to a tomb. A figure of
death is holding open this tomb, whilst with the other hand
he presents an hour-glass. The exalted expression with
which he seems to return the ghastly look of the hideous
form is admirable. At the feet of the Marechal, on a lower
step, is the figure of a beautiful woman representing France :
with one arm raised she tries to prevent his stepping forward,

20 INTRODUCTION.

and with the. other to avert the approach of the last enemy.
In some tilings this reminded me of the monument to Lady
Nightingale in Westminster Abbey, but I think there is
more truth and beauty in this.

The country between Strasbourg and Basle, which we
traversed by railway, is flat, but richly cultivated ; large
plantations of flax, with vineyards here and there, and pic-
turesque villages, surrounded by groups of tall poplars. It
rained heavily the latter part of the way, which obscured the
distant views. Arrived at Basle we took up our abode at the
magnificent hotel of "Les Trois Rois." This is a perfect estab-
lishment in every respect. We have a very pretty room with a
balcony overhanging the Rhine, which washes the base of the
walls below. Certainly the contrast between the gentle mur-
mur of the river, and the trampling of horses, and jabbering
of the men in that dingy court-yard into which our room
looked at Strasbourg, is not a little delightful ! Our first
anxious care in the morning was to inquire about a vet-
turino, under whose auspices we purpose henceforth to pursue
our pilgrimage towards Italy. Having sent for the landlord
to consult with him on a matter on which so much of our
future comfort depended, he was able to recommend one so
decidedly, that Ave thought ourselves fortunate in having
such a promising specimen of a very exceptionable brother-
hood put within our reach. Accordingly, we determined to
engage him, and to his honour be it here recorded, that
during the many weeks we travelled with him, never once
had we cause to regret our choice of Ferdinando Pancresi, a
native of Leghorn. There is not much to be visited in the
way of "sights" in Basle. The ancient cloisters of the cathe-
dral are interesting, and the views from the ten-ace in front
fine. In the public museum Ave saAv, I imagine, some of the

[NTBODUCTION. 21

best of Holbein's pictures, certainly the best I have ever met
with. He is not to me a pleasing painter, for even when
his execution is good, and liis colouring rich, his conception,
and often his choice of subjects, are disagreeable. Almost the
only one of his pictures that really interested me is a portrait
of the first printer in Basle, and this I must own is as life-
like a painting as art could produce. We looked with much
interest on the autographs of Luther and Melancthon. Several
letters from each, of considerable length, are here preserved.

Next morning we were off soon after eight. Our vet-
turino's carriage was a comfortable easy barouche, large
enough for convenience without being heavy, and he himself
most attentive. A brilliant morning dawning auspiciously
on our outset, our spirits rose to think that we were really on
the way to Geneva and the Alps ! The whole of this day's
journey lay through picturesque and often highly romantic
scenery. A succession of sweet secluded valleys, now closed
in by rocky heights, fringed with wild wood to the top — now
opening out in little meadows, green as emeralds, and ena-
melled with gay wild flowers. Villages and churches now
and then, as if planted for effect, in the very best points of
the picture. The roads here, as indeed in most parts of Swit-
zerland, are lined with apple and other fruit-trees, which,
laden as they now were with their golden treasures, gave an
air of richness and plenty to the scene. Some time after
leaving the sweet village of Waldenburg, where Ave had made
our first halt, we entered the romantic defile of Klus. The
valley still lies in smiling loveliness beneath, but the rocks
are darker and closer, and on one side rises a grey ruin, the
castle of Falkenstein, pinnacled upon the rocky mountains,
and appealing to imagination with its memories of the past,
amid the gay loveliness of the present. Just as we were

INTRODUCTION.

emerging from the narrow defile where the country again

opens in wider expanse, AY exclaimed, " The Alps — the

Alps !" and there they were, in the far distance — their glitter-
ing peaks shooting up distinct and clear into the soft evening
air, a few delicate streaks of snowy clouds resting across their
summits. Every one who has seen them will recollect the sen-
sation peculiar to that moment in which the Alps first hurst
upon one's view. I believe no words could enable those who
have not seen them to comprehend it. For myself, such was
my deep experience of this, that on reaching Soleure that even-
ing, I felt I was closing an eventful day of my pilgrimage.

The country we passed through next day was richly wooded
and cultivated, but not particularly striking till close upon
Berne. A fine avenue of trees skirts the road for two or
three miles, and then you reach a long and well-managed
descent to this most picturesque city. The river Aar flows
through a deep ravine, with very precipitous sides ; and on the
top of a promontory, formed by a sudden bend in its course,
the city stands. A lofty bridge has been thrown across the
bed of the river. We drove to a nice quiet inn, " La Cou-
ronne," whose landlord was well known to our vetturino.

Berne has a history full of stirring incident both past and
recent, which it is interesting to recall on the spot, but it has
little for the traveller to visit. The cathedral is by no means
beautiful in itself, but the view from the platform around it
is grand indeed. The valley of the Aar winding at your
feet — the rapid rush of the river itself, its waters of that pecu-
liar pale green tinge which shews their origin to be among
the Alpine snows ; then, far above the rocky hills which close
the city round, the snowy chain of Alps soaring into the sky.

We resumed our journey in the afternoon, reaching Fri-
bourg about half-past seven— too dark to distinguish much of

INTRODUCTION. 23

that wonderful work of art, the Suspension Bridge, which
leads into the town. The darkness, however, occasioned a
peculiar effect in crossing it. This immense bridge spans the
valley at a height of more than two hundred feet, and by an
unbroken stretch of nine hundred. Part of the town lies in
this valley, and as the stars were twinkling over head in
the sky, and the lights below like other stars shining from
beneath, but for the crack of Ferdinando's whip, and other
equally terrestrial accompaniments, we might have fancied
ourselves moving among the spheres ! Next morning shewed
this wondrous bridge in another strange aspect. Standing
on the terrace from which it springs, the sweeping curve
was lost to the sight in a dense fog about half way across
the valley, thus hiding its seemingly interminable length
in distant space. The peculiarity which distinguishes this
beautiful work of art from its no less beautiful rival, the
Menai Bridge, is not only its greater length and height, but
also its construction. The chains which support the latter
are composed of solid bars of iron, while in the former these
are constructed of bundles of wires laid length wTays and bound
together : which, upon mechanical principles, secures the
greatest amount of strength, let the initiated determine.

This day's route, characterized throughout by a succession
of beautiful scenery, brought us in the afternoon to the little
village of Chatelle St. Denis, where, stopping to refresh the
horses, we wandered onwards on foot, first visiting the church-
yard,— a lovely spot, with flowers planted on all the graves,
and a little wooden cross placed at the head of each. Con-
tinuing our walk, we ascended a green sloping bank, and
from thence looked down a rapidly descending grassy slope,
abruptly terminated by the deep channel of a mid dashing-
torrent forcing its way through rocks and stones, now hid by

24 INTRODUCTION.

the large masses of trees on its verge, now dancing along
brightly and gaily in the sunlight. On the opposite bank the
rocks rose perpendicular for many feet, covered with hanging
festoons of creeping plants and tufted brushwood ; and then the
surface sloped back into a rich greensward above, with woods and
little cottages peeping from them ; whilst, higher still, black
savage crags seemed to frown on the sunny landscape below.

Amid such scenes we wandered on awliile in much enjoy-
ment. I had advanced alone a few paces, and a sudden
turn round a projecting part of the road brought me in
sight of — " The Lake — the Lake ! " It was now my turn to

call out to W ; and there, seen through an opening

between two hills, lay, like a vast plain of burnished gold, in
the evening sunbeams, the beauteous Lake of Geneva ! Be-
yond towered the highest peaks we have yet seen of the Alps.
It was, in truth, some little time ere I covdd realize it was a
mountain that I looked on, and thought it must be a bank
of white clouds. Oh that my pen had power to pourtray
the scene which a few minutes later burst upon us ! The sky
above was cloudless, a very flood of light poured upon the
lower part of the valley, while a mist hung on some of the
rocky mountains which close it in, as though loath to leave a
scene so fair. Then, again, it seemed drawn like a belt across
the gigantic mountain, while, far above it, soared the snowy
peak, towering in calm sublimity toward heaven, — and far,
far beneath lay the clear and placid Leman ! As we gazed
entranced, and with thoughts almost too deep for utterance,
the sun gradually cast a hue of radiance over rock and wood
and valley, resting on them, one by one, for a brief moment,
as if to say good night ; and then — long after all else had
passed into shade — a bright roseate hue threw its halo on the
snow-capped mountain. As we looked, another and another

INTRODUCTION.

distant summit, till now unseen, had caught the parting ray,
and glowed with the same intense colouring ! For some
bright moments this exquisite scene continued : then passed
away, and left the awful heights in cold and stern grandeur.
We wound our way, with vineyards on either side, for several
miles before entering Vevav, having been most fortunate in
the hour of our reaching the heights above, and got to this
quiet and most comfortable hotel about seven o'clock.

Vevay, September. — Here we are at one of those spots I have
heard so much of and longed to see ever since I learnt to love
the sight of Nature's majesty and loveliness. Long shall I
remember the Sunday we have spent here. After reading in
the morning, we went to the lake and stood beside its deep blue
waters rippling in the gentle breeze and brilliant sunshine. In
truth, it is a fitting gem for such a shrine ; and for those moun-
tains this lake alone is worthy to be the mirror ! About two
o'clock we went to the Protestant Church. After climbing
by a winding lane up a steep hill, we reached the fine old
building, embosomed in venerable chestnuts, and looking
down upon the loveliest part of the lake, with the gigantic
" Dent de Midi " directly opposite. A flight of steps leads to
the platform, in the centre of which stands the church. Seats
are placed all along under the trees, and here we sat and
watched the gathering together of the people, — the peasants
all wearing their broad-brimmed hats and picturesque costiune.
After a while we entered. It is a large old church, with a
remarkably good organ. We had seats near the pidpit, and
were indeed delighted with the whole service. The minister
was an intellectual looking man, with an admirable manner,
musical voice, and clear pronunciation. His prayer was
beautiful. He gave out a psalm in the manner of the Scotch

26 INTRODUCTION.

Church service, which was sung most pleasingly : the deep
mellow notes of the organ leading the congregation, for every
one seemed to join. After the singing, the text, which was
from the Psalms, was given out ; and then, in pure, simple,
forcible language, he gave an admirable sermon. Every word
seemed to come from his heart, and was well calculated to
reach the hearts of others. It was a sermon to be felt as well as
admired. Peculiarly delightful, too, it was to listen to such an
one in a foreign land, in a foreign tongue, and to see so many
hundreds all dwelling intently on these faithful words. The
prayer and psalm after the sermon were equally solemn and
devotional ; and then I was so reminded of Scotland, and of
my own dear home, when the minister stood up with his arms
raised in the peculiarly impressive manner of the Church of
Scotland, and pronounced the blessing. Often will memory
recall that pastor and his people in the church at lovely
Vevay ; and sometimes a prayer will ascend especially for them
when " all churches" are mentioned in our own land. We
walked round the church, and saw the tombs of Ludlow the
regicide, and of Broughton, who read the sentence of death to
Charles I. They died here in obscurity and in exile. After
again enjoying the view from the platform we went down to
the shore, and there sat and listened to the music of the
murmuring waves gently rippling on the beach. The quiet
bark skimming the liquid mirror with noiseless wing passed
and repassed us, the graceful outline of its hull visible even
under the surface of the clear blue water, while, in the sunset
glow, the suspended oar seemed to be distilling drops of molten
gold from its glittering blade. It was an evening

" Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being, and a sense
Of that which is of all — Creator and Defence."

INTRODUCTION.

We had intended to start early next morning, but being-
delayed several hours by something connected with those
tiresome passports, we hired a boat and weirt upon the lake.
There was more motion than I expected, or liked, so I believe
in this, the greatest enjoyment to me was in the idea ! How-
ever, we had a lovely view of Vevay, also of Gingough oppo-
site, and Meillerie immortalized by Eousseau.

By the time we landed, the passports were forthcoming, so
that we recommenced our journey. The road winds along
the shores of the lake, through avenues of large chesnut
trees, with clustering vines, luxuriant flowers, and peaceful
little cottages. I was continually reminded of the scenes so
early imprinted on my memory in " Pierre and his Family,"
a favourite tale of my childhood. In many a little white
cottage, with trellised vine leaves, beneath the shade of a
spreading chesnut, I pictured to myself the fondly cherished
home of the Vaudois family. We passed " Clarens," so ex-
quisitely described in Childe Harold : then " Montreux," even
more beautifully situated : and very shortly stopped at the
gate of the " Castle of Chillon." A remarkably intelligent
Swiss girl conducted us to the various places of interest.
Here, then, I actually stood on that spot whose associations
had so impressed my imagination. We entered the dark
vault " below the surface of the lake :" we counted the " seven
columns deep and old,"

'• Dim with a dull imprisoned ray,
A sunbeam which hath lost its way,
And through the crevice and the cleft
Of a thick wall is fallen and left,
Creeping o'er the floor so damp,
Like a marsh's meteor lamp."

On the third column Byron's name is engraved by his own

2S INTRODUCTION.

hand, and passing onwards we came to Bonnivard's pillar.
It makes the blood run cold to see the very ring which fast-
ened a fellow-creature to the huge stone column, like a wild
beast — to stand on the very stone wwn to some depth by the
constant pacing of the unhappy man for six long weaiy years !
Three steps were all that he could take, and this living death
was inflicted by his fellow-men !

" Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place,
And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod
Until his very steps have left a trace,
Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod,
By Bonnivard ! Way none those marks efface,
For they appeal from tyranny to God ! "

The death of his two brothers in this living tomb adds almost
a deeper melancholy to the mournful place. The only ray of
comfort is the recollection, that, on the victoiy gained by the
Canton, he was not only himself liberated but found his
beloved country free. We saw some other places of torture,
but they are too horrible to dwell upon. I could not help
remarking to our little guide how thankful we should be that
our lives were cast in such peaceful times, and that we should
pray to Grod long to spare us from the power of a religion
that could inflict tortures like these upon its opponents. She
assented with much earnestness and apparent feeling. Con-
tinuing our way we passed

" The little isle,
Which in my very face did smile,
The only one in view,"

and entered the valley of the Rhone. Evening brought us to
Bex. I walked to the windows of our room whilst waiting
for such preparations for tea as the place afforded, and there
so near as almost to cast its giant shadow on me, rose the

[NTRODUCTION. 29

mighty " Dent de Midi !" It was one of those impressions
which seem, one scarce knows why, to linger in the mind ;
and often has that dark mountain risen up before me when
brighter scenes have been imthought of. Having got up
early next morning, I was rewarded by seeing the sun rise on
the stupendous heights all around the little village. First
one snowy peak and then another was bathed in the golden
beams of the breaking day. The scenery became wilder and
more grand as we penetrated into the bosom of the pass.
At one part where the valley suddenly narrows, is the re-
markable bridge over whose arch " a key unlocks a kingdom."
This is at St. Maurice, a small place, strongly fortified, being
the frontier town between the Canton de Vaud and the
Canton of the Vallais. We were delayed on the bridge to
shew our passports and pay the frontier duty, in the very best
position for seeing the peculiar features of the strange wild
scene. The bridge is literally supported by the base of the
" Dent de Morel es" on one side, and on the other by that of
the " Dent de Midi," whose bold rocks project so far as
scarcely to leave room for the river which rushes impetuously
in its narrow bed. An old castle crowns a precipitous crag
above, and in the narrowest part of the defile are the fortifica-
tions on either side. For hours we travelled on, walled in by
these stupendous mountains, assuming different forms at
every turn. At a few miles' distance from Mamice are yet
visible the awful and desolating effects of a torrent of mud,
as it is well termed, which descended, in 1835, from the sides
of the " Dent de Midi" into the valley. It forced a passage for
itself through the pine forest, snapping the largest trees like
twigs. The high road was covered for 900 feet, and fields
and houses were overwhelmed by it. We saw, still lying on
the top of the debris, enormous blocks of limestone of many

30 INTRODUCTION.

tons' weight, which had floated like corks on the surface of the
resistless avalanche. A fine object in this part of our journey
was the waterfall of Sallenche, which descends into the valley
of the Rhone from a narrow black ravine. Its height is 280
feet, but the last part of the fall is not more than 120. It is
a fine body of water, and the spray is bright and beautiful in
the summer sun. Martigny was our mid-day resting-place, a
spot so lovely we could well content have there pitched our
tabernacle for a time, but we had not even a day to spare ; and
after exchanging many a friendly salutation with the peasants,
whose kindly " Bonjour, bien, bien, bonjour !" was given with
a pleasant smile as they passed, we were again en route,
reaching the " Hotel du Lion d'Or," at Sion, early in the

evening. W walked out : I having sprained my ankle,

could not accompany him, and therefore occupy myself in
bringing up my Journal to this point. It seems like a dream
to fancy that ere I write in it again, we shall have crossed the
mighty Alps !

Milan, Monday. — Is it even so, that we have witnessed
those unequalled scenes, and have been in the very bosom of
the Alps ? But I must continue from where I left off the
day before we got to Brieg. We were off from Sion by seven.
I was particularly struck with the situation of many of the
villages scattered on the mountain's side, at a height so ex-
traordinary, one marvels how the inhabitants have access to
their eagle's nests ! Close to Tourtemagne, a pretty little town,
is a fine waterfall : a romantic walk through lanes, overhung
with fruit trees, leads to it from the inn, and you hear the
roaring of the water before it comes in sight. In the centre of
a huge basin of rocks is the fall. It is not so high as the
Sallenche, but a larger body of water, falling in a most graceful

INTRODUCTION. 31

curve, while the spray, glittering with a thousand colours in
the sun's rays, is cast to a great distance. But its greatest
charm is in situation — the only life-like thing amid those barren
rocks. Just before reaching the narrow turn to it, is a little
cottage, from whence a nice looking young woman brought
a plank of wood to put across a rivulet that must be passed ;
and on our return, as we had no silver, she sent a child, a
little toddling tiling, about four years old, with us to bring some
back. She was a pretty little flaxen-haired girl, and looking
up in my face with a smile, she put her little hand in mine
with entire satisfaction. She could not understand a word of
my French, but she smiled in reply as she trotted by my side
with her wooden sabots, and in her funny little Swiss dress.

At two o'clock we left Tourtemagne, and proceeded on our
way to Brieg — every now and then passing through scenes
of desolation, caused by avalanches of mud and stone, and
the consequent rise of the river. For miles together the
bridges had been swept away, and the trees laid prostrate ;
and on both sides of the road immense piles of stones and
rocks are heaped up which have been removed from it. Not
long after we left Tourtemagne it began to rain, giving- us
some fears for the eventful morrow. As we approached Brieg,
Ferdinando pointed out, amid the dark mountains, the route
we were to take next day. It seemed truly as if Ave were to
pierce the clouds. We reached Brieg early : a dirty gloomy
hotel, the "Poste," in a narrow dark street. The rooms com-
fortless in a special degree, so that I listened with a feeling
akin to despair to Ferdinando's account of some who had
been detained, even days, in this wretched hamlet, by weather
unpropitious for crossing the mountains. It woidd be diffi-
cult to say how often I got up through the first part of the
night to ascertain, if possible, what our fate was to be !

32 INTRODUCTION.

Before daylight Ferdinando knocked at the door with the
joyful intelligence that there was no rain, and by five o'clock
we had actually commenced our long anticipated passage of
the Simplon. The four horses slowly dragged the light car-
riage up the steep ascent, which commences, in fact, from the
very door of the hotel, so slowly at some parts that we
scarcely felt we were moving. The surface of the road is
very excellent, everywhere thirty feet wide, and with sharp
high stones at a few yards' distance from each other as a kind
of parapet. Soon after leaving Brieg the road makes a wide
sweep, turning away from the Glytzhorn towards the Breit-
horn, and passing by the side of a wooded hill, on the top of
which is a chapel, and a string of little white shrines called a
Calvary. It then again approaches the side of a precipice
overhanging the gorge of the Saltine. The effect of this
place was, in some respects, heightened to us by the mist
which hung in masses over great parts of the perpendicular
sides, so densely that it was only here and there we could
catch a glimpse of the immense depth below, with the torrent
of the Saltine at the bottom. We seemed to be gazing into
a fathomless al >yss, and the sound of roaring waters, which we
could not see, gave a mysterious awe to the feelings with
which we looked down. Never shall I forget the first sight
of the glaciers, far, far above our heads, as, clear and bright
in the morning sun, they pierced the blue sky above the
vapoury clouds that hung around them. How incredible
seemed the idea, that ere mid-day we should be at the very
feet of those dazzling pyramids of ice and snow ! Upwards
we slowly crept, some new beauty opening at every instant.
The road bends round the valley of the Ganther until it
crosses the Saltine by a lofty bridge called " Pont du Ganther."
This part of the wild ravine is subject to avalanches every

INTRODUCTION. 33

winter ; the bridge is therefore peculiarly constructed, so as
to give as little resistance as possible to their fury. After
passing this bridge, the road by many zig-zags reaches Beresal,
the first refuge. Here the horses rested, and we procured for
ourselves a second breakfast of bread and milk, for which the
keen mountain air had fully prepared us, and then walked
on. It was to me a strange new feeling to be wandering
thus alone in such a place. Mountains on mountains above
and around, forests of pine trees, rocks and furious torrents,
and a few goats our only living companions ! The first
gallery or artificial passage cut in the face of a precipice is
that of Schalbet, 95 feet long, and 3920 feet above Brieg.
Not long after passing this we had our first view of the
glorious Bernese Alps : the glittering snowy peaks of the
Breithorn, Jungfrau, and Monch. Below the Jungfrau is the
glacier of Aletsch, one of the largest among the Alps, of
which we had previously a glimpse. What an overpowering-
sensation it is to gaze on those everlasting hills ! It gives one
to feel the infinite power and majesty of the Creator of all
the ends of the earth ! They seem so far raised above man,
and all his little world of thought and feelings — so sublime in
their calm majesty, so unchangeable ! And then comes with
such force the remembrance that they are but the hiding of
his power, the very footstool of the King of kings and Lord of
lords ; and that this God who created those glorious and
mighty monuments, is the same who gives its loveliness to
the little violet hidden in its leafy nest by the torrent side ;
and more than this, who is ever watching over the most in-
significant of his creatures, numbering the very hairs of their
heads, and listening to their faintest cry for help and protec-

tion. Near the fifth refuge is the wildest and most savage
part of the ascent — a scene truly of dreary magnificence.

INTRODUCTION.

The pine no longer finds even the little soil it requires ; the
lovely Alpine flowers no longer bloom around ; nothing but
rocks — rocks black with the storms of ages — mountains with
their eternal snows piled above — glaciers on every side arrested
in their course, and stiffened into rest — below, an almost un-
fathomable abyss, with torrents surging amid the rocks, and
roaring cataracts bursting forth, and with resistless fury
plunging on their headlong way. Nought is here but the
majesty and power of Nature ! No trace of man save the
wondrous road itself, which now hangs on the very verge of
one of those fearful precipices — now disappears through the
solid rock, and again spans a foaming torrent, and climbs the
mountain's brow ! It is here the celebrated glacier galleries
are reached, partly excavated, partly built of masonry, and
strongly arched. You enter an immense cavern, cold and
dark ; the sound of roaring waters is around you ; but in
vain for some time you look around for the cause. An open-
ing at length gives light — a strange light ; and well it may ;
for when you come opposite you see a sheet of silver ; and
looking upwards, a torrent of water is dashing overhead in a
wide and beautiful arch, which further down becomes broken
into light and feathery spray.

A second gallery — the same sound of waters, and the very
cavern walls seem to tremble with the rushing of the stream
below your feet. It is after passing through the last of these
galleries that the finest view of the whole range of the Ber-
nese Alps is obtained. They seem to enclose you in their
bosom : you look into the crevices on their sides ; the
Simplon frowns on you from behind, whilst, bright with the
many colours their glaciers give forth to the morning sun,
rise the noble Jungfrau and Brei thorn. Several experienced
travellers joined us, while standing in awe and wonder at

INTRODUCTION.

tliis spot, and said it was the finest scene they had ever
witnessed. Often as I had felt the force and grandeur of
these lines before, never as now, when almost unconsciously
they rose to my lips, had their sublime beauty so rilled my
heart : —

" The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps ;
And throned eternity in icy halls
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls
The avalanche — the thunder-bolt of snow !
All that expands the spirit, yet appals,
Gathers around their summits, as to shew
How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below !"

A thick cloud lay around the mighty Jungfrau, about half
way down, whilst the bright summit soared far into the
heavens — the pine forests below looked like brushwood, the
torrents like threads ; and as for the villages, they seemed so
much another world left far behind, that it was difficult for
the mind to realize that a few hours only had passed since
our feet had trodden them ! About a hundred yards above
the sixth refuge is the liighest part of the Simplon pass. A
simple cross of wood marks the spot. As a remembrance we
picked at its foot some sprigs of a little lowly wild-flower,
which had been hardy enough, even in these cold and barren
regions, to open its bright eye to the sun. We were surprised
to find the cold affect us so little. The air was keen and

sharp, but the sun was warm, and W was able to keep

the carriage windows open the whole way, except where pass-
ing through occasional fogs. Before commencing the descent,
huge wooden sabots were put upon the wheels, not an unne-
cessary precaution certainly, for the horses rush at a frightful
speed down places where it would almost make one nervous even

36 INTRODUCTION.

to walk ! Three miles from the top is the village and inn of
Simplon, where we dined — (on chamois, by the way. which we
thought excellent) — and rested the horses. On setting out
again, I began to wonder — very prematurely, as I soon found
— how it was that, in constructing this marvellous road, the
Italians were said to have performed the most wonderful part
of the work ; but when we reached the Gorge of Gondo, it
seemed impossible to conceive how any art or power of man
could continue a road through such apparently insurmount-
able difficulties. This pass is considered one of the grandest
and most savage in the Alps. Black perpendicular rocks
deepen and narrow at every step, till they overhang the road
so completely, that the drops of water from them fall at times
on the other side of the carnage as you pass along. At the
spot where the foaming torrent of the Doveria is crossed by
the Ponte Alto, the way for a moment seems completely
barred by an immense block of granite, which approaches
so nearly to the opposite side as scarcely to leave room for the
impetuous stream to escape ! To our amazement we found
ourselves in a cavern 600 feet long, cut through the solid
rock, and not merely along its edge, but hollowed out through
the huge mass. It took 100 men, working in gangs day and
night, eighteen months to pierce it, the miners being sus-
pended by ropes to the face of the rock until the necessary
lodgements were effected ! Not forty yards from this spot, so
close to the road that its spray washes it, is the waterfall of
Frascinone. We got out to see it better, and certainly it is
impossible to conceive more impressive grandeur. The rocks
rising on each side straight as walls to a giddy and terrific
height — the little stripe of blue sky seen above — the torrent
roaring in the dark gulf below — the white foam of the water-
fall the bold arch of the bridge and the black and yawning

INTRODUCTION. 37

mouth of the cavern, from whence we had just emerged,
altogether form a scene rarely, if anywhere, equalled. A
aumber of zig-zags conduct the road downward on its way ;
the turns are very sharp ; and as the carriage swung from
side to side, it was impossible not to feel somewhat nervous,
for every here and there are precipices so close, that a false
step of the horses must plunge you over them. After passing
Isella, a village where is the Sardinian Custom-house, we
reached another dreary savage pass. The severe storms of
1839 visited this spot with utter destruction. The bridges,
and a great part of the road, were swept away ; and though a
new line is now finished, nothing can efface the air of desola-
tion around. At the end of this gorge the pines begin again
to find a place of rest, and to clothe the hitherto bare moun-
tains. At Crevola the Doveria is crossed for the last time by
a fine bridge ninety feet high, and we left Val Dovedro and
entered Val d'Ossola. A change, indeed, conies over the
scene ! Grandeur, desolation, and solitude are exchanged for
loveliness, richness, and luxuriant cultivation. Chesnut and
mulberry trees line the road ; vines hang in graceful festoons
from tree to tree, clothing them with pendant drapery, while
the dark clusters hang over the road. Fields of maize, with
its dark green leaves and drooping flowery crown ; white
cottages peeping from amid the trellised vines ; churches with
their tall spires pointing to the skies ; a soft balmy air ; and
all lighted up by the radiance of a glorious setting sun — all
told of another clime, and we felt that we had entered Italy !
It was a delicious drive, most refreshing after the excitement
of the day. We had a distant view of that scene so often
described, the Val d'Ossola, spread out at our feet ; but it
was too dark to distinguish any of its features by the time we
reached it. Eight glad were we to find ourselves in the town

38 INTRODUCTION.

of Domo d'Ossola, though by no means were we charmed by
this our first specimen of Italian inns ; always excepting,
however, the delicious fruit presented both at tea and break-
fast : figs bursting with ripeness — peaches, pears, and
bunches of grapes — fresh and most agreeable proofs that we
were now in a land of sunny sides.

With this impression of the bright skies of Italy, I confess
I was somewhat surprised on waking to look out upon a
decidedly wet morning. We were comforted, however, with
the thought how fortunate we had been in having such a
favourable day intermediate between two wet ones. It cleared
up in time for us to see the lovely Lago Maggiore, though
not in all its charms, for it wanted the lighting up of the
bright sun. Still there is a peculiar softness and quiet beauty
in it very pleasing. The colour is not the heavenly blue of
Leman, but there is more glassy stillness ; and the little
boats, with their white awnings, glide by like spectres. It is
richly wooded to the very edge, and terraces of vines over-
hang the pebbly shore. We stopped to rest at Baveno, on
its borders, and were detained longer than usual, owing to poor
Ferdinando's new horse, which he had bought at Vevay, being
quite knocked up. The inn was exceedingly uncomfortable,
noisy, and dirty, and we were glad to hasten out and wander
by the calm and lovely lake. The mountains all round it are
of beautiful forms, and from being wooded from the base give
peculiar richness to the landscape. We had intended going
to see the celebrated " Isola Bella," but it was too damp for

W , and, moreover, we did not care much for seeing it

nearer, as it is not by any means so picturesque as I expected ;
indeed, the actual beauty of Isola Madre is much more at-
tractive. Very slowly did we perform the remainder of the
day's journey, owing to that stupid horse, which proved more

INTRODUCTION. 39

sulky than tired ; but we could not regret it, as the whole
road was by the water's side, and we saw a thousand different
views, ami the fine background of the snowy Alps. Near
Arona, where we stopped for the night, is the marvellous
colossal statue of St. Carlo Borromeo. It stands on a high
ridge behind the town, on a pedestal of forty feet — the statue
itself being sixty feet. Ferdinando told us he had made a
fourth person at one time in the head, and that the inside i if
the nose is a comfortable arm-chair ! We were not tempted,
however, to undergo the fatigue of ascending so many steps,
and were satisfied with his account. The effect of the mas-
sive figure against the clear sky is very good, even at
some distance. Another wet day followed, and I asked our
vetturino where was the " bel tempo" he had promised in
Italy ; but he hardly allows this to be Italy. I must, however,
confess, that these occasional wet days were rather pleasurable
to me. I had arranged and hung up several bags in the
carriage, in which were all the various articles for daily use.
Books, work, and all that was needful for pressing and drying
the leaves and flowers which we gathered as memorials of the
different places of interest we visited, were thus at hand ; nor
were bouquets of flowers and baskets of fruit wanting to re-
fresh us with their sweetness and fragrance. Having made
those arrangements which., though trivial in themselves, con-
tribute much to one's comfort in a long journey, there was
positive enjoyment in the repose of being able quietly to read
one's book, or half dreamily to recall the scenes which had so
powerfully excited the mind ; and certainly at this particular
part of the road there was nothing in the present to with-
draw one from the past. Long, straight avenues of poplars
or chesnuts, only enlivened by the sight of vineyards in every
opening ; but just before reaching Sesto Calende is a must

INTRODUCTION.

glorious view of Monte Rosa. It rose beyond the dark fore-
ground of the wooded plain in its pure whiteness, the sun
seeming to pour upon it all the light and brilliancy he
denied to us. We crossed in a clumsily managed and tedious
ferry to Sesto Calende, a stupid dirty little town, where we
were detained half an hour in the street with passports and
custom-house officers, the latter being the first Austrian
specimens of these gentry we had met with. Surly and dig-
nified as they looked, they notwithstanding took a franc and
let us off with a peep into a carpet bag ! Ferclinando here
took an additional horse to urge on the obstinate grey. A
good-humoured Italian lad accompanied it, who whistled the
mellifluous airs of his country quite scientifically. After he
left us our locomotive power became more miserably insuffi-
cient than ever, the refractory horse not only choosing his
own pace, but every ten minutes stopping short. At every
inn or post we came to, Ferclinando exclaimed, in accents
of moving entreaty, " Un cavallo ! un cavallo !" but all in
vain. He was quite au desespoir, striking his forehead
and indulging in most wonderful exclamations, which could
not but cause a smile, although we truly commiserated his
distress, and fully shared the annoyance, since it was im-
possible to calculate when we should reach Milan, espe-
cially as the creatine now took to backing opposite every
house we passed, as if determined to end its journey there.
At length, when our patience was all but exhausted, and
night coming on, we fell in with a diligence heavily laden,
and consequently going very slowly. The spirit of rivalry,
I suppose, after eveiy other kind of spirit had been flogged
out of him, seemed to revive the grey, and Ferdinando
managed to keep just behind the lumbering vehicle for some
miles, indeed until within sight of Milan. We at last reached

INTRODUCTION.

the entrance to the city park, under the fine arch of Napoleon,
which ends the Simplon road, the " Arco della Pace." It
was too dark to do more than distinguish the outline. We
were detained a few minutes with passports, and then drove
on. After being warned by the police there, to keep a good
look-out from the windows in passing through the Corso, as
many light-fingered gentlemen take advantage of the dark
shadows of the fine avenue of trees to lie in wait and assist
passengers in disposing of some of the smaller articles of
luggage, I very valiantly leaned half out of one window,
and whether my alarming position kept them at bay or not,
we certainly encountered no such depredators. In about
twenty minutes we were rolling on that smooth pavement
which one finds so often in Italian cities, having two lines of
flags for the wheels, over which they bowl along as if on a
railway, with ordinary paving between for the horses' feet.
Not long after entering the town we stopped at the hotel
" Croce di Malta," which had been highly recommended.

THE DOMO OF MILAN.

urely it is vain to attempt in words to do
justice to the Domo of Milan ! to convey by
£'' mere description an idea of its elaborate
beauty, its world of exquisite designs. Rather
~^° let me appeal to the imagination, and, bor-
rowing an expression from imperial lips, bid such
as would realize it create for themselves a " dream
in marble," a fairy structure all unmeet for aught
'^F\ but the soft breeze of heaven to touch, or the cloud-
- '* less vault of an Italian sky to cover ! It has been
often with me in my visions since that evening hour in which
first I saw it, when I gazed again and again lest I should
behold the fair form fade from my sight ! And yet I must
confess that the first view of the facade was to me somewhat
disappointing. I cannot admire the style of architecture there
unhappily mingled with the exquisite Gothic. But the objec-
tion applies to the facade alone. In every other part the har-
mony of design seems wonderful, considering the different eras
in which it was built. It is constructed of Cancloglia marble,
to which time gives a yellow tinge, shading off and adding

44 ART AND NATURE

softness to the dazzling brilliancy of the newer and upper
portions — the fretted pinnacles and statues — which yet retain
their snowy whiteness. The effect of these, standing out in
all their purity and ethereal lightness against the clear blue of
an Italian sky, is magical. We walked round and round
the area in which it stands. The nearer you approach, the
more exquisite the finish of every part, of every single leaf
and flower is found to be. It is, however, on ascending to
the top that one realizes fully the outpouring of beauty that
has been lavished. A flight of two hundred steps conducts
to the roof of the Cathedral. These consist of a spiral stair-
case inside a lofty turret, with open marble tracery work,
through which I, at least, cast many an involuntary glance,
with nervous dread, upon the dazzling roof, and the city far
below. Arrived at the gallery upon the top of the turret, the
view, as may well be supposed, is truly magnificent. Spread
out, as on a map, before the eye, are the plains of Lombard}',
bounded on one side by the chain of Alps, " Monte Rosa,"
" Breithorn," " Mont Blanc," " Great St. Bernard," " Mont
Cenis;" more to the right, "St. G-othard," and the "Spliigen,"
and beyond these the mountains of the Tyrol. The position
of Venice was pointed out ; and slowly passing the eye over
the richly cultivated plains, it rested next on the range of
Apennines — the Mediterranean stretched in the far distance,
and then on the valleys of Piedmont, whilst the thoughts might
revel in the associations called forth by the name. It was a
scene to expand and elevate the mind, as well as to live inde-
libly in the memory. And now, what shall I say of the
interior of this glorious edifice ! The feeling produced by its
vastness, its solemn grandeur, its impressive silence, is almost
overpowering. A misty veil seems to hang around the massy
pillars, a "dim religious light" solemnizes every feature.

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. J-"'

Standing near the choir, and looking upwards to the vaulted
roof, around on the intense colouring,— the gem-like radiance
of the windows, then through the vast aisles with their
colossal pillars, a calm, elevated feeling,— a consciousness of
standing in a temple of the living God came over me. A
kindred emotion bore my thoughts hack, with a freshness
of sympathy to that enthusiastic pride and glory which the
Jews of old and their prophet-king were wont to feel when
they looked on that Temple which stood on Mount Zion—
the "beauty of holiness," the "joy of the whole earth."
And yet, even in the midst of feelings so appropriate to such
a scene, do we not well to remember that these same Jews,
who thus well-nigh worshipped the visible beauty of the
Temple built by the direction of the Lord their God, despised
and rejected Him who was the true glory of that Temple—
who would have none of Him, because He came not with
pomp and circumstance of earthly beauty ? Do we not well
to remember that to Him who " sitteth on the clouds,"
" whose throne is in the heavens," the contrite tear of a
penitent heart is a sacrifice more acceptable than all the
<>randeur and the beauty of the most gorgeous fane that
human art hath ever raised ? The windows in the upper
range are of golden colour, while the three glorious ones to
the east are gemmed with the richest crimson, blue, and
scarlet : the whole casting a varied hue on the marble statues
and mosaics within. The gigantic pulpits of bronze, dark
and massive, contrast again with this vivid colouring. While
moving on in silence, a sweet, soft, low tone stole upon the
ear, which seemed in mysterious harmony with our solemnized
feelings at the moment. It seemed to rise and sweep along
the vaulted roof, and whisper softest music round each massive
pillar. It was the hour of vespers, the gloom of twilight

46 AKT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

deepened, a shadowy majesty rested on all around. The
faint light through the windows served only to cast the long-
shadows of the columns across the marble pavement, and as
we walked onwards with a noiseless step, every now and. then
a kneeling form was darkly seen, or the shadow of some one
stealing by. I have heard and read of such scenes, but the
reality surpassed my utmost imagination. It was silence that
might be felt, and the darkness deepened around us till the
shadows melted away. A deep-toned bell broke the stillness,
and when its last echoes had died upon the ear, suddenly a
bright, ruddy light appeared in the far distance, and priests
bearing torches passed along the aisles. It was strange to see
the pecidiar hue of torch-light resting for a brief moment
on the tall columns and the sculptured marble, and deepening
the shadows when it had passed by. A moment after, a low-
toned voice chanted a few words : we heard the clanking of
keys, the signal for the departure of all who like us had
lingered there during the twilight hour.

THE BRERA GALLERY.

must own it was with considerable disap-
; J •' pointment I passed through the first few
rooms of the Brera Gallery at Milan. I had
expected to he charmed with this my first
introduction to many of the Italian masters.
It may be that my expectations were too highly
raised ; certain it is I saw nothing in these to
satisfy them fully. Indeed I was almost he-
ginning to fear my taste had not yet learned to
appreciate that which I might afterwards admire,
when my disappointment was ended by entering the seventh
room. It is a small octagon, and contains but few pictures :
and this is well ; for who could turn their eyes to look on
aught beside the two pictures, which are here placed with
every possible advantage of light and position ?

The first I came to was Raphael's " Sposalizio." It bears
his own name and the date, and has met with the favour it
deserves, having had many celebrated owners. In this pic-
ture, Mary and Joseph stand opposite each other, the high-
priest between them joins their hands : Joseph is in the act

48 ART AND NATURE

of putting the ring on the finger of the bride. On Mary's
left is a group of lovely maidens, and on Joseph's right some
young men, supposed to have been lovers, as they are break-
ing their wands, while Joseph holds his, which has blossomed
into a lily — according to the legend, his sign of acceptance.
In the background is the lofty Temple and a flight of steps.
But it is in the figure and face of Mary that the dignified yet
tender softness and beauty of the picture shine forth ; and
with these too, there is a look of elevation, as though she
dwelt on the future she knew to be before her, as well as a
subdued and almost melancholy expression which gives an
indescribable charm to the whole figure. It is not a picture
to which description can do justice. And what shall I say of
that to which I next turned ? It was the famous Guercino
— •" Abraham dismissing Hagar." I cannot even name with
patience the criticisms that have condemned any part of this
painting. Who could look on the touching scene, and not be
carried away by its truth and power ! Look at Abraham's
venerable figure — at that mingled expression of human sor-
row and regret — pity for Hagar, tenderness for his child, his
first-born son, struggling against a stern sense of duty — and,
superior to all such emotions, the prophetic glance into the
future. Do you not see his dark eyes kindle, as though he
were saying, " The son of the bond-woman shall not be heir
with the son of the free-woman," whilst yet his father's heart
breathes forth the fervent prayer, " Oh, that Ishmael may
live before Thee ! " Sarah is turning away — perhaps some
relenting towards the mother and her child is dawning on her
heart, and she dares not longer remain ; and yet there is
triumph, too, in the proud figure and in the haughty step.
What a contrast to poor Hagar ! Oh, what a face is hers !
A tale of woe is written there ; concentrated anguish speaks

UNDER AN' ITAI.TAX SKY. 41)

in every lineament. As you look into the depths of her

in ml tied eves, you know that she feels it to be a matter of
life or death to her that hangs on the breath of his lips. She
does not speak : there is no need ; for what appeal could so
melt the heart as that pale face, the gaze of those earnest
eyes, which seem to say, "And can it be that thou wilt banish
ns for ever ?" The doubt is no more — she has read her fate ;
and you look on into the next moment, and see her woman's
pride conquering- her woman's agony, as, turning away with-
out one spoken word, she takes her banished child by the
hand, and departs, " to wander in the wilderness of Beer-
sheba."

In the eleventh room is another picture of great power and
beauty. It is an agonizing subject — the Martyrdom of Saint
Catherine ; but the meek and patient submission expressed
in the countenance — the sublime and exalted tranquillity —
the eyes raised with such full, deep trust and confidence to
heaven, seemingly unconscious of all surrounding objects,
instruments of torture or the presence of ferocious men —
these are all wonderfully portrayed.

From the Palazzo Brera we drove to the Church of Santa
Maria delle Grazie, where is the famous " Cenacolo." Multi-
tudinous engravings have made tins Last Supper by Leonardo
da Vinci familiar to every one. It was really mournful to
find such an utter wreck of this masterly creation of genius.
The mere outline of three or four of the figures is all that
remains to tell that this splendid fresco ever existed on the
now soiled and discoloured wall. Even the countenance of
our Lord, one of the most distinct that can yet be recognised,
requires the closest examination to trace it. It is singular
that this very head was said to have been left unfinished by
Leonardo : he is reported to have made the following remark

50 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

to his patron, Ludovico il Mora, — " Ancor gli mancava due
teste da fare, quella di Christo, della quale non voleva cercare
in terra, e non poteva tanto pensare die nella immaginazione
gli paresse poter concepire, quella bellezza, e celeste grazie
che dovebbe essere in quella divinita, incarnata." Yet this head
is now more distinguished than any other in the whole paint-
ing. In addition to the mischances which befell it and other
treasures of the same kind at the time when the French
soldiers were frequently quartered in the churches in Italy,
the plaster on which this masterpiece of fresco was painted
was not properly prepared, and Leonardo is supposed to have
experimented on some composition which proved the ruin of
his work. In the Brera there is a design of our Lord's head
in black and red chalk, which assists one in forming an idea
of what the finished picture must have been.

GENOA.

E left Milan next morning en route for Genoa.
The country flat and uninteresting as to
scenery. At mid-day we stopped to visit a
splendid church about four miles from Pavia.
" The Certosa of Pavia," as it is called, is
certainly the finest building of the pure Italian
style of architecture I have yet seen. An arched
gateway leads into the great quadrangle, and at
the far extremity stands the church. The facade is
of the richest marble, and the designs of the basso-
relievos are very beautiful — in fact, perfect pictures in stone.
The interior is imposing. The ceiling is of deep blue, studded
with golden stars, and the balustrades which enclose the
numerous side chapels are richly gilt. In each of these
chapels the altar-piece and pillars are of different marbles,
some of the very rarest kind, while the floor and steps are
iidaid with exquisite mosaics. Women are not permitted to
enter these chapels; but a very civil monk who attended
us allowed me to stand sufficiently within the rails to enable
me to see the very fine paintings placed above the altars.

»■- AKT AND NATURE

compromising with his conscience, by putting a handkerchief

on the stones, that my sacrilegious foot might not profane
them by its contact ! The only part I could not see, even by
any device of my complaisant friend, was the high altar.

W said it was gorgeous in the extreme, being literally

covered with precious stones of every kind. The tomb of
Giovanni Galeazzo, the founder, he also saw, and most magni-
ficent it is. Foliage, flowers, birds, fruit, all in the brightest
colours, and formed of the most costly materials" are lavished
everywhere to ornament this splendid church. Some of the
frescoes make one start, coming on them unexpectedly. One
there is, representing a monk, who seems to be stealing along
in silence, and mysteriously watching you from a gallery
above. It is admirably painted, and our being for a moment
unquestionably deceived, afforded great amusement to the
old man who conducted us. From the Certosa we soon
reached Pavia. The entrance to the town is rather striking,
but all attraction ceases on entering the streets, which are
narrow and dirty. I have no pleasing recollections of our
accommodation in the hotel there, though the best in the
place ; indeed, in such circumstances, we often found great
relief in leaving our rooms as speedily as possible, and wan-
dering away to the cathedrals, even though in themselves not
particularly worth visiting. On this occasion we hastened to
the Domo. The interior is lite a vast cavern, dark and
gloomy. The pulpits are very like fortresses, supported by
colossal " termes," (the proper appellation, I believe,) repre-
senting, we were told, the Fathers of the Church. In rich
and beautiful contrast with the general gloom and heaviness,
in a brilliantly lighted little chapel, is the magnificent tomb
of St. Augustine. This is an astonishing combination of
everything most exquisite in workmanship. There are the

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 53

richest Gothic arches and pinnacles, bas-reliefs of weeping
figures — funeral processions — triumphal cars — all designed
with elaborate taste and beauty, and in the purest marble,
producing an effect which it is difficult to conceive. The
whole design of the tomb struck me as perfectly unique. It
consists of four stories. The basement — of Sienna marble,
of a rich mellow tint : the tomb — on which is extended a
tine statue of Augustine in his robes, and surrounded by
numerous graceful figures. The canopy — which again is sur-
mounted by pinnacles and statues — two hundred and ninety
figures in all. The body of that celebrated man lies beneath
this splendid tomb. A gilded grating enables you to see the
silver coffin in which his bones are laid.

I could not lint wish that J could have been with us

as we stood looking at the rich details — the elaborate work-
manship. He would have been greatly interested.

There are three good pictures in this church, but only one
that pleased me — by Crespi. The light in which they all
hang is exceedingly disadvantageous. I noticed here an in-
stance of the sort of innate taste of the Italians for paintings.
In the absence of the sacristan, a poor-looking tattered boy,
to whom we happened to apply for directions where to find the
tomb, took upon himself to accompany us ; and when we
turned from the chapel where we had remained so long, he
not only shewed us the paintings, but instantly pointed out
the best light for each. We have repeatedly observed the
same thing. I smiled as I imagined to myself a boy of the
same class in our own country, being required to give such a
specimen of his taste !

We were off betimes the following morning, crossing the
river Po by a fine bridge. There was little to interest us iu
the country through which we passed ; consequently I gave

f>4 ART AND NATURE

myself up to the enjoyment of Cooper's " Travels in Italy,"
a book I purchased for three francs at Milan. As I have
before said, I greatly enjoy the repose of less interesting
scenery now and then, the quiet of our comfortable carriage,
and the varied amusements of arranging the dried flowers
which from day to day accumulate, — talking over what we
have seen, — and reading of the experience of others. The
heat, however, somewhat interfered with comfort on this occa-
sion, so that we were not sorry to see in the distance the
small town of Voghera, which we knew was our mid-day
resting-] dace. After dinner we of course went to the cathe-
dral, and were just in time to hear the organ — a fine deep-
toned instrument, with some peculiarly sweet notes. It was
soothing and refreshing in no ordinary degree, after the
excessive heat of om morning's journey, to sit down in that
large quiet old cathedral, and listen to those solemn chants,
and the pealing notes of that organ.

The heat continued very oppressive all the afternoon, and
when we reached Novi, very much tired and exhausted, we
found the only inn a miserable place, — dirty, close, and
noisy to a degree. Nothing coidd well be less inviting than
the coffee and milk, the bread and the butter, which were set
before us in the most primitive style. The people however
were very civil, and evidently had nothing better to give — a
discovery which greatly assists in reconciling one to things as
they are. The road becomes very beautiful beyond Novi.
Fine hills in the distance, rocks with strangely marked strata
by the road side, and long shady avenues of chesnut trees, —
a pleasing contrast to the heat and monotony of the previous
day's journey. At Konco we took on an additional horse,
as we encountered here the first branch of the Apennines.
The ascent is not long, and much less steep than the descent no

UNDEB AN ITALIAN BKY.

the opposite side, which was at times very i'ar from pleasant.
on account of the sharp and sudden turns. I w;is quite
nervous— more so even than when descending the Simplon ;
hut, in fact, 1 had not recovered from the annoyance encoun-
tered that morning at the Sardinian frontier, of the first rude
douanier we have fallen in with. Nothing would do hut
everything must be opened, even my desk, which no one had
ever touched before. One man, in particular, seized even a
pair of sheets in our carpet-bag, and declared them contra-
hand, informing us we must either leave them, or pay double
their real value. I was almost in despair, for they were of the
utmost value to us in such a journey. Our excellent Ferdi-
nand.) did what he could to cheek this over-zealous official; hut
I began to fear, fruitlessly, when he advised me to speak to the
master. 1 did so, and the man, though unwilling, could not
refuse. So up stairs I went, and there a civil gentlemanly old
man met me. The douanier made out his case, and at any
other moment I should have been much amused to see him
hold forth " gli lenzuoli," exhibiting in triumph that they were
quite new. I, in my turn, simply stated why we had them —
why they were of such consequence to us, and shewed the
mark on them which the douanier had not chosen to look at
before. The old man politely inquired if we had any more.
I marvelled whether they really imagined we were linen-
merchants, and that our carriage was full of such articles !
for on my replying we had no more with us, my adversary
exclaimed, "he was by no means sure of that." To my in-
finite satisfaction, however, he was silenced, and desired to
replace the sheets without another word. I expressed my
thanks to my old friend, and the discomfited official went
down vowing vengeance against the rest of the tilings, which
certainly underwent a terrible overhauling in consequence.

56 ART AND NATURE

However, the old gentleman had his eye on him from the
window above, when he opened my trunk, and this kept him
within bounds a little. Altogether it was a disagreeable occur-
rence, though after all we had been very fortunate in being so
long free from the least annoyance on this score.

At Amierotti we again came to the Apennines, the scenery
in parts becoming very grand. Ferdinando pointed out in
the distance Genoa, and soon its beautiful bay and the blue
expanse of the Mediterranean were distinguishable. The
approach to Genoa greatly delighted me. Villas, and gardens
full of orange trees and flowering shrubs, on either side of
the road, with trellised vines supported upon ranges of stone
pillars. These are often placed tier above tier, and their
rich ornaments contrast beautifully with the craggy rocks
from which they sometimes seem to spring.

Altogether, there is something peculiar and appropriate in
this approach, preparing one, so to speak, for the magnificent
scene which greets the traveller, when on turning one of the
abrupt declivities which jut upon the road, "Genoa la Su-
perba" bursts upon the view ! It is built nearly in the form of
a crescent, at the foot of mountains of various heights, some
of the lower eminences being crowned with forts and ram-
parts, and their sides gay with palaces and terraced gardens.
At each end of the crescent-shaped city are two noble piers,
with light-houses terminating both. One is particularly fine,
rising between three and four hundred feet from the solid
rock. Splendid houses hue the principal streets, which though
narrow, convey no idea of gloom ; while the shade they
afford from the glare of the noon-day sun is most grateful.
I was delighted with Genoa, even by the time we reached the
" Albergo dTtalia," a very good hotel, with a most attentive
and obliging landlord. Our rooms were quite charming, but

UNDER AN ITALIAN BKY. 57

al smh a height ! Nos. 65 and 66 ! However, the heaf was
so intense, wr were glad to have large airy apartments, even
at the expense of climbing to them. We arranged to go out

and see the church of " L'Annunziata," and return to tea
before going up to our nest again. Well may people talk of
the extraordinary magnificence of this church. It is one mass

of gold and blue and gorgeous marl tie of every colour.
Bright pictures, set in golden panels, look down from the
roof, and lapis-lazuli is the ground wherever they are not. In
the dome, which is lighted by windows all round, are paint-
ings which, at that distance at least, are perfectly beautiful.
The windows are set in massive golden frames, and the effect
of crimson silk curtains on which the setting sun was shining,
was nothing less than glorious. It is not the kind of magni-
ficence that satisfies the mind in a church, at least not mine ;
still, of its kind it is very striking. We looked in vain
tbr a painting 1 had heard was in this church, and which 1
wished to see. Observing a priest walking in one of the
aisles, I ventured to accost him, asking him if he could tell
me where was the " Cena." He replied that he was himself a
stranger, but pointing to a door not far from where we stood,
he told me I should there find the sacristan. We followed
his directions, and passing down a long dark passage, unhesi-
tatingly opened a door which seemed to terminate it. Not
finding this the ease, and meeting no one, we still advanced,
until we came to a large stone hall : this was empty, and we
were just about to turn back, when through a partially opened
door I perceived a monk sitting at a table writing. Conclud-
ing him to be the sacristan of whom we were in search, I
advanced towards him ; at the sound of footsteps he raised
his eyes, and instantly starting up, uttered a most vehement
exclamation of horror. His sudden motion completely startled

58 ART AND NATURE

me, and I stood where I was, in vain attempting to make
known our request, His gesticulation became so violent, and
his screams, for indeed I cannot call tliem words, so wholly
unintelligible, we could only gaze at his frantic excitement
with surprise. At length the oft repeated " La Signora"
threw some degree of light upon the subject, and my im-
mediate retreat produced a more soothing effect than all
my efforts at explanation. In fact, I had unconsciously
entered the sacred precincts of the monastery belonging to
the church, and his horror at the sudden appearance of a
woman, where probably none had ever appeared before, had
taken from him all presence of mind, and caused him to
act in the ludicrous manner I have described. His distress,
however, was so real, I could only most humbly express my
regret, informing him that a priest had given us directions to
seek the sacristan by the door at which we had entered. He
seemed pacified when he learned these particulars, and yet
more so when he saw us fairly into the church. When all
was over we enjoyed a hearty laugh — though, I must say, I
had no wish to prosecute any further our search after the
missing sacristan. As we were leaving the church, however,
we saw a party of strangers, accompanied by a man who
proved to be the said individual. He took us to a small
dark corner behind one of the aisles, and pointed out the
painting we had sought. I was exceedingly disappointed,
having heard that this " Last Supper" by Procaccino was much
celebrated. I am afraid I may sometimes almost seem pre-
sumptuous in thus venturing to form my own opinion about
many of these famous works of the old masters, but in the
first place, I only speak of the impression they make on my
own mind ; and, moreover, I never can admire anything
because I am bid. I once overheard a party discussing various

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 59

paintings. They evidently wished to do their duty scrupu-
lously, l»ut one of them ventured to express a doubt as to the
degree of admiration to be bestowed on a very dark and fear-
ful looking picture, — one an artist rnighl appreciate, but which
none other could possibly regard with any pleasure. The very
doubl seemed to astonish the rest of the party, and one ex-
claimed, "oh! how can you! Murray says so." Many a
time since has the expression recurred to me — ■" Murray says
so," therefore, perforce it must he thought "beautiful,"
" exquisite," &c. &c.

But to return. We retraced our steps to the hotel, and
greatly enjoyed a really comfortable meal, after the wretched
fair of the last two or three days. The heat even during the
eight, was overpowering ; and, combined with the torments of
living animals, effectually put sleep to flight. I rose and
looked out between one and two o'clock in the morning, upon
a strange and beautiful spectacle. The lights sparkling like
gems all round the hay. the rich glow of the ruby beacon-
light upon the Molo Yecchio, which seemed like a star watch-
ing over the slumbering city, — the phantom-like vessels dimly
revealed in the darkness, — with here and there a twinkling
light on the waters, the marble whiteness of the houses near,
and the utter stillness around, — nothing to be heard save the
breaking of the swell against the rocks.

Sometimes, when rising very early in order to escape the
great heat, the thought comes over me with a feeling of wonder
that it is nearly the end of October ! On the second morning
after our arrival, we were early astir, being anxious to sec the
famous - Strada Nuova," the Street of Palaces. It is far more
magnificent than 1 had any idea of It is certainly rather
narrow; but the facades of the palaces are so beautiful, the
marble pillars and sculptured ornaments give such a cheerful

(»0 ART AND NATUBE

aspect, without at all diminishing the massive splendour which
distinguishes them, that the effect is scarcely injured by the
narrowness, whilst unquestionably, in such weather as this,
one's personal comfort is greatly increased. The Palazzo
" Brignole Rosso" was the first we entered. It has a singular
appearance outside, the walls being of a bright crimson, whilst
the ornaments are of white marble. The doors of these palaces
are enormous, opening at once upon an immense marble hall,
through which you pass to a wide and massive flight of steps.
At every landing of these are fine statues. At the top of the
first flight we rang a bell, and were desired to go up to the
second floor, where we should find the person whose business
it was to shew the palace. A pleasant old man made his
appearance in answer to our summons, who led us at once
into the bed-room of the Marchese, which came the very first
in order, — a somewhat unexpected arrangement of the apart-
ments, but one with which we afterwards became well ac-
quainted. We were not much struck with this room, and
passed on into the great hall. The " Rape of the Sabines,"
by Valerio Castello, a fine picture, is here ; and four Guides
pleased me. The next room is called " La Prirnavera."
Here are the most splendid Vandykes I ever beheld. One,
a portrait of the Marquis on horseback ; another, of the
Marchioness ; and a third, of a father and child ; gave me a
completely new idea of this grand painter. I had a good
deal connected him in my own mind with the picturesque
portraits of Charles the First, and other faces of the same
cast, and, I am almost ashamed to add, with beautifully
painted point-lace ! Here, indeed, I saw him in a new and
most powerful aspect ; and I could have stood an hour before
those three pictures with their rich deep colouring and noble
expression. The second room, "La State," contains one of

UNDER AN ITALIAN BKY. Gl

the niaiiv pictures of the same subject — a St. Sebastian, by
(Jiiido. It is so life-like as to be painful to look upon. There
aiv one or two Guercinos ; but the "Saviour banishing the
buyers ami Belters from the Temple " was the one I noticed
most. It is undoubtedly very finely executed : the colouring

possesses all the wonted ridings of this master, but the sub-
ject seemed to me badly conceived. Our Lord's figure lias not
the calm dignity which is the only expression becoming the
solemn words he used. There is too much of human feeling
and anger; while the countenances of the people express terror
rather than what one conceives they would feel. I was not
particularly struck with the pictures in " L'Autunno," and
passed on to the fourth room, " LTnvemo," in which, to
my taste, are the finest of all these paintings. " The
Pharisees questioning our Lord on the Tribute-Money,"' by
Vandyke, is one of the most perfect pictures 1 have seen.
Our Lord's face wears the most heavenly expression, — more
nearly approaching to one's ideal of it than anything we have
yet met with. I was at once reminded of the words lie spoke,
"Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and to
( toil the things that are (bid's ;" thus with calm majesty dis-
appointing the deep cunning of his questioners. Nothing
can be more admirable than the contrast between the noble
dignity of Jesus, and the artful yet obsequious expression of
the two Jews. It is a picture to dwell upon till you realize
the scene portrayed — till you forget that it is a painting, and
almost believe yourself present. I think the effect of this
picture on me more resembles that which I felt so strongly
with regard to the Ouercino I have already spoken of in the
Brera — Abraham dismissing Ihmar. than any other. I can-
not particularize more of the collection in this one room, but
will only add. that I was delighted with all. except one by

62 ART AND NATURE

Paul Veronese — " Judith holding the head of Holofernes,"
which revolted by its subject, though one's admiration coidd
not be withheld from the execution. We walked through five
or six rooms in succession, till my eyes ached and my head got
confused ; but in the twelfth room I was arrested by a mag-
nificent painting by my favourite, Guercino, of " Cleopatra
with the Asp on her Arm." I know not that I ever before
had my idea of the regal beauty of this proud queen realized.
From the balcony of this truly princely palace we looked out
on groves of orange trees, and the beautiful oleander, with its
rich crimson blossoms, alike delighting the eye and scenting
the air with fragrance. Immediately opposite is the palace
which was occupied by our Queen-Dowager Adelaide, now
the Jesuits' College.

We found it difficult to decide which of the numerous
palaces and picture-galleries we should next visit, but were so
tired and really unable to appreciate more pictures, that we
resolved to vary the calls on our admiration by choosing the
" Palazzo Serra," instead of "Durazza," or " Garibaldi," which,
I believe, rank next to the " Brignole Kosso," for their gal-
leries. The saloon in the " Palazzo Serra" is literally laden
with precious things. The ceilings — the bas-reliefs — the
varied marbles — the mirrors which reflect the gilded panels
a thousand times, till you scarcely know where the real room
begins — the lapis-lazuli doors and tables — all combine to make
this saloon bewildering in its splendour. It is said to have
cost a million of francs, and one can quite believe it. I
noticed two beautiful pieces of tapestry — copies from the
famous Sybils of Domenichino and Guercino at Rome.

We walked the whole length of this unrivalled street of
palaces, and at every step some new feature in the scene
struck my fancy. Here we first saw generally used the white

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. G3

veils of which I had often heard ; and, in truth, the effect of
numbers of these veiled figures is highly picturesque. The
veils are usually fastened at the hack of the head by the rich
and luxuriant plaits of hair, which seems to be the pride alike
of rich and poor, and sometimes with a silver arrow of the
beautiful Genoese workmanship. The younger women I saw
were mostly pretty, and their figures graceful, though I cannot
allow that my ideas of Italian beauty have yet been realized.
I should rather say their whole appearance is picturesque ;
indeed, I was continually drawing pictures in my mind, as a
group of girls, with baskets of grapes on their heads, inter-
mingled tastefully with bright flowers, were to be seen stand-
ing so as to form an admirable foreground to some massive
portal of one or another of the princely palaces. The endless
variety of costume — the gay regimentals — contrasting with
and enlivening the sombre attire of monks and priests and
sceurs de charite, all contributed to the chann of this novel
and striking scene.

Later in the day we took a carriage to the Church " St. Ste-
fano della Porta," to see the famous picture of the Martyrdom
of St. Stephen, by Raphael and Giulio Romano. The whole
was designed by Raphael, but only a small portion was finished
by him. A single glance tells one that it is a veiy uncommon
painting. As a work of art it is magnificent ; and perhaps I
shall only betray want of taste and due appreciation when I
say it is not a picture that realizes my ideas of perfection.
Certainly the figure and expression of St. Stephen is all one
could desire. There is a holy tranquillity in the countenance —
a confiding trust, such as nothing earthly can shake — and one
seems almost to hear those words, " Lord Jesus, receive my
spirit ! " But no other part pleased me. The face and ex-
pression of our Lord are doubtless fine ; but neither is what

64 ART AND NATURE

I should have liked for such a scene and subject. And, then,
there is a figure of God the Father introduced, which in
itself is an unpardonable outrage ! The figures of the
men casting the stones are not by any means good. In
short, I may fairly say, that as a whole I was disappointed
with this celebrated work. We walked back, and passed
the cathedral ; but finding the doors closed, went on to the
hotel. At the table-d'hote we met two most agreeable and
intelligent American ladies from Boston, who, having tra-
velled a great deal, and lived for many winters at Eome, gave
us much practical information of a very useful kind concern-
ing lodgings and divers domestic arrangements. In the even-
ing we enjoyed a walk on the top of an immense range of
buildings, apparently storehouses, erected upon arches all
along the quays. The view of the city and bay is very fine
from this wall, and the refreshing breeze from the sea makes
it a favourite evening promenade.

It was with regret we made preparations for leaving Genoa
next morning, as our short stay prevented our seeing much
that would have been very attractive ; but the one object Ave
had at heart rendered it desirable that we should not prolong
the excitement and fatigue of travelling, beyond what was
absolutely necessary. By a little management and previous
arrangement, however, we generally contrived to see those
objects and visit those places which possessed the greatest
interest.

On leaving Genoa we entered upon the loveliest drive, I
believe I may fearlessly assert, in the world ! the " Riviera di
Levante." The road begins almost immediately to ascend
after passing the environs of the city, and from the first
summit of the overhanging mountains there is a magnifi-
cent view of Genoa, with its harbour and ships, its towers,

CINDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 65

domes, and spires, with thousands of white houses dotting the
sides of the hills which surround it. We stopped here and
looked back on the proud city below, and out upon the blue
Mediterranean, impressing that panorama on our memory as
perhaps lovelier than we had ever seen, or were likely to see
again ! And yet as we proceeded new scenes of beauty opened
upon us, such as do indeed baffle description, though one
cannot help at least tiying to convey an idea of what has
given such intense enjoyment. The sides of the hills, ab-
ruptly sloping to the coast, are covered with the brightest
vegetation ; and shrubs that seem more suited to tropical
climes grow in the richest profusion. There are olive and fig
trees, with their many sweet and scriptural associations,
carrying one's mind to the times of our blessed Lord — his beau-
tiful parables and lessons of heavenly wisdom ; vineyards
casting garlands and festoons from tree to tree, and giving
added grace to each ; orange and lemon groves, with their
dark green leaves and golden fruit ; pomegranates and palms ;
cypresses like tall spires towering above ; and the stone-pine,
beautiful in itself, but still more so from its associations in one's
mind with the lovely landscapes and Italian scenes of Claude
Lorraine. Hedges of the sword-like aloe, and everywhere the
cactus or Indian fig grow in the greatest luxuriance on the
very ledges of the rocks which rise from the sea-shore. Here
and there the rich berries of the arbutus appear like bunches
of coral, while sweet roses blossom from every little nook — and
all this but as the minute finishing of the grander features
of the landscape. One lovely bay succeeds another, some soft
and still, with a pebbly beach on which the waves seem to
flow gently, as though whispering sweet music ; others again,
have bold and rugged shores, overhung with dark rocks and
precipices, the hidden breakers underneath only revealed by

GO ART AND NATURE

the angry foam of the receding waves, urged by the swell of
the sea upon them ; while the hardy pine hangs over the very
brink, as though vainly seeking its reflection in the troubled
waters below. Stretching far away in its calm bright loveli-
ness, till lost in a flood of dazzling light, is the blue, the ever
beautiful Mediterranean. The houses and villages, with gaily
] tainted gables, scattered here and there, stand sometimes so
hierh on the mountains that it seems a marvel how human
power could have placed them there. The terraced gardens,
with statues peeping out from the flowers, and other gay
decorations, strike one at once as so in harmony where all is
bright, and where sky and earth and sea seem enjoying a
continual holiday ! Onward we went through this paradise of
beauty, till after climbing a very steep part, of the mountain
we stopped at a little inn most beautifully situated on the
side of a wooded bank, with a grove of acacias before it.
Here the view already enjoyed as we ascended opened out
still more magnificently. Such a panorama of varied pic-
turesqueness I never looked on ! The air, too, not only
breathed fragrance, but seemed pouring forth its joyous notes.
It was just twelve o'clock when we reached this village inn,
and all around the bells of the churches were chiming.

We climbed a little stony path which led us to the opposite
side of the mountain. Woods, with villages scattered among
vineyards, crowned each of the hills ; and as we walked on-
wards clusters of grapes hung over our heads. As we sat
down to rest, a pretty young woman, with bright black eyes,
leading a little child by the hand, came up to us, and, with
a kindly gracefulness, offered us some freshly gathered figs
and grapes which she had tastefully arranged on large vine
leaves, with the tendrils twisted around them so as to form
a simple basket. The incident pleased me, and in such a

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 67

spot! Nor must I omit to add, that she would not accept
anything for them. I could do1 deny myself the pleasure
of calling forth a smile and Mush of delight from the little
one, as she looked up in my face, when she discovered the
trifle 1 had slipt into her little hand. Our dinner at the
inn was thoroughly Italian ; consisting of freshly caught fish,
an omelette, and the most delicious figs and Muscatelle grapes
I ever tasted. Certainly the whole of this day is marked
with delightful recollections! The scenery continued, of the
same varied beauty all the way to "Sestri." Here, on our
arrival. Ferdinando, to our great satisfaction, drove through
an avenue of orange trees to " I/Europa," a hotel out of
the town, and on the very shore of the .Mediterranean. We
were in time to enjoy a walk on the sands, from whence we
saw the sun set in glory on the sea. Lower and lower the
brighl orh sank till its disk rested tor a moment on the liquid
gold, and then left but the radiance of its parting beams to
tell where it had been.

The following day we rested at mid-day at Borghetto, a
quiet village with a miserable inn, where we could get nothing
eatable. I greatly enjoyed the evening drive to Spezzia, a
beautiful little town on the gulf of that name. For several
days past, during some hours in the early morning, and in
the cool of the evening. 1 had mounted on the box beside
Ferdinando, enjoying both the fresh air and the scenery. I
found our worthy vetturino, on further acquaintance, exceed-
ingly intelligent, and we had a great deal of conversation on
many subjects. On one occasion, after I had endeavoured to
speak to him on religious subjects, he volunteered the opinion
that he could not think confession to the priests right: '"It
is often employed for the worst purposes — that I know." he
continued, speaking with great energy; adding, with an ex-

68 ART AM" NATURE

pression of simple reverence which struck me greatly, "For
mo, 1 confess my sins to my God and my Saviour." I was
often surprised at his remarks, evincing very little respect or
value for the ceremonies of his Church ; I tried to say some
tilings which might be of use to him, and which I hope he may
sometimes think of. We felt much interested in the kind-
hearted man. whilst his anxious solicitude for us both might
well excite our best wishes for his welfare. The Gulf of
Spezzia is in the form of a crescent, and so remarkable for
security and every advantage of natural position, that Nap< i-
leon, in his triumphant career through Italy, had deter-
mined to make it one of the great naval stations of his
empire.

It was a delicious evening, and again we were in time for a
ramble, and to see the golden halo of sunset on sea and land.
The variety of leaf and tint is a great charm all along these
shores, and of course the foliage was new to me. The shades
of green, from the rich dark tint of the fig to the peculiar
hue of the olive — on one side a bluish green, and on the
other almost white — mingling with the gorgeous colouring
which Autumn was beginning to shew forth, added to the
brilliancy of the sunset hour. There are the remains of the
battlements of the old castle, wdiich carry back the mind to
the past history of the place. But our pleasant sojourn at
Spezzia was not without some drawback, arising from a spe-
cies of annoyance we have once or twice met with previously,
— the natural result of our arrangement with Ferdinando,
though not in any degree a fault of his, but of the system of
ordinary vetturino travelling in Italy. It is customary for
those who select this mode of travelling to contract with the
owner of the carriage and horses not only to take them a
certain distance in a given time, but also to provide them

UNDRB AN ITALIAN BKY. 69

board and Lodging od the journey for a stipulated amount.
As is too often the case in any bind of contract, the tempta-
tion in do the thing cheaply at the expense of his employer'*
comfort is too much for the honesty of the individual in
question; and again, the landlords finding that they cannol
obtain their lull profits from the vetturinos, who have the
choice of hotels, generally speaking, in their own power, de-
test (In1 system, and revenge themselves on the unfortunate
traveller who enters their establishment under such evil aus-
pices. It was some time ere we discovered the mistake we
had made: for our worthy Ferdinando was usually aide to
prevent any annoyance to us by at once asking for the
best accommodation; but on this occasion, and once before,
the question was asked and answered as to who was pay-
master, and the amount of comfort to be bestowed was
settled by the landlord, without any time being allowed to
Ferdinando to declare his readiness to pay for proper accom-
modation. This time, however, we were on our guard ; and
after giving one look to the wretched apartment into which
we were ushered, and disregarding the strongest assertions
that it was the only one disengaged, wre sent for Ferdinando,
who instantly settled the matter in our favour. It was
laughable to see the coolness with which all the former de-
clarations of the landlord were forgotten ; nay, he did not
seem to think i1 requisite to go through any form of apology
or excuse, but instantly led the way to a very different apart-
ment— in appearance, at least ! This was the last time we
were annoyed in this way : and as soon as we reached Leg
horn, where our first engagement with Ferdinando ended, we
changed it entirely — paying him solely for his carriage and
horses, and his own services. This is not only a far more
comfortable plan in every way, hut in reality cheaper, since

70 ART AND NATURE

we paid higher for very inferior accommodation : and if it
was so with one we had every reason to think well of, and
who was so really anxious for our comfort as Ferdinando, it
must be a thousand times worse where the vetturino is
utterly careless and indifferent, if not positively dishonest.
To return to our rooms at Spezzia, I may truly say it was a
memorable night ! In the first place, when I lighted the
little lamp of olive oil which had been placed by my bed-
side about an hour previously, I discovered a perfect swarm
of horrid little bloodthirsty animals drowned in the oil
into which their unwary gambols had precipitated them !
I felt sundry qualms on getting into bed, but even there I
did not anticipate the dire reality ! Literally, they were
there in dozens ! I gave up all hope of sleeping, for I was
in a perfect fever of irritation in a few minutes. I at last
took refuge in a book, hoping to wile away some of the
weary waking hours, and calm the nervous excitement and
irritation produced by them and the fatigues of the day.
Shall I be believed when I say, that my relentless foes ac-
tually leapt upon the pages I was reading, rive and six at a
time ! It makes me creep even now to think of the horrors
of that night. My last resource was to sit by the window
watching for daylight. Yet in the morning the landlord
looked all amazement when I recounted my experience,
and with the dignity of injured innocence exclaimed, that
" Madame was the first person who had ever seen anything
of the kind in his house."

The assistance of two sturdy oxen was required to drag us
up some very steep ascents, where we came in sight of the
Marble Mountains of Carrara. The heat was intense, and
the mid-day sun shone with dazzling brightness on the glit-
tering peaks. We looked up. with no small interest to these

UNDER AN ITALIAN* SKY.

quarries, opened in various parts of the mountain sides,
whence have proceeded the costly materials of so many beau-
tiful creations of genius and art. The outline of these moun-
tains is peculiar, and unlike anything else we had seen. The
quarries are well worthy of a visit, but we were both much
tired, and the excessive heat put it out of the question for us
to attempt it. Unfortunately we got little rest — a wretched
room and uneatable food fell to our portion. We met, how-
ever, with a civil cicerone, who seems to be placed there to
shew the various studios to travellers, and he took us to a
little inn, where we got something prepared at least with
more attention to cleanliness, though little enough to boast of
after all. We went through four or five of the studios. How
pure and beautiful the marble is ! Some of the statues were
very well executed, but of course there were plenty very poor,
and inferior as works of art. In passing down one of the
streets, we saw an enormous block of marble destined for a
colossal statue of a man on horseback, on its way from the
mountain to the town, a distance of about three miles. It
had taken eight days to bring it where we saw it, and the
cicerone told us it would take at least eight more to place it
in the artist's studio. It was moved along upon wooden rol-
lers, with twenty-four pairs of oxen drawing it. We reached
the pretty little town of Pietra Santa in time for a ramble on
one of the sides of the mountain range which surrounds the
town. Following a zig-zag path, we found ourselves in the
middle of a large wood of olive trees. I was delighted with
the fantastic forms which the olive assumes when it is old :
all its youthful stiffness vanishes, and it becomes one of the
best possible studies for an artist. I gathered some of the
pale leaves, as well as some of the bright wild flowers which
bloomed around in profusion, as mementos of that pleasant

ART AND NATURE

ramble. The next morning saw us off betimes, for we were
impatient to reach Pisa. I longed with almost childish
eagerness to see the " Leaning Tower of Pisa," so associated
with early recollections and school-room days. We arrived
about noon, and at once proceeded in search of the famous
group of buildings which give such interest to the place.
One cannot but wish that a situation such as this were more
generally chosen for noble edifices like these. Quite apart
from the town, and rising immediately from the smooth
green turf, stands the group ; — the Cathedral — the Campa-
nile— the Baptistery — and the Campo Santo. Nothing can
be finer or more imposing than the effect produced by their
standing thus singly and apart from all ordinary habitations.
The rich tint of the rnarble, which, in most parts has become
almost yellow, and seems still more so in the full effulgence
of an Italian sun, is one very remarkable beauty which in-
stantly strikes the eye ; while the light and shade caused by
the numberless columns and arches by which all the build-
ings are surrounded, vary still more the effect of the colour-
ing of the marble. Sometimes the little airy column is
marked by a line of brightness standing out from the deep
shade of the building ; at other times the shadow of the
column is spread along the wall in dark transparency. I
dwell the more on the effect of the tout ensemble, because in
the cathedral itself I was disappointed. Perhaps this was
partly the consequence of my having heard a gentleman we
met compare it with that dream of beauty at Milan ! But
for this I should probably have done it greater justice. Yet
I know not ; there is such confusion in its form, such a
multitude of sharp angles, that to me one facade only is
beautiful. The facade which faces the Baptistery, with its
numberless columns, is certainly very fine ; but there is a

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY,

confusion and irregularity about the proportions generally
which I cannot comprehend sufficiently to admire. I am not
satisfied with myself that thus it should be, and I well may
suspect the fault to lie in my taste, since Mr. Beckford has
recorded his great admiration of this very cathedral. I wish
I could return to it when I shall have become better ac-
quainted with the style of architecture of which this is a
specimen. To atone in some measure for the small meed of
praise I have bestowed on the exterior in general, let me
remark the admirable effect of its being placed on a terrace
ascended by steps, adding thereby much to the majesty of
its appearance. Passing from the glare of the noon-day sun,
reflected on the golden-coloured marble, it is truly delicious
to find one's self in the cool, soft, subdued light pervading
the interior. Five aisles are supported by a very forest of
Corinthian pillars of Parian and Carrara marble. The walls
above the arches are striped, blue and white marble. The
roof (and neither does this please my unaccustomed eye in
a cathedral) is flat, divided into compartments with richly
gilt ornaments. The windows are of very brilliant stained
glass, but so small that in themselves they are by no means
striking, though the very dimness which is the result is
soothing after the flood of brilliancy one has left without,
The space usually occupied by the eastern window is here
filled by gigantic gold-grounded mosaics, which are of
great antiquity. Notwithstanding, I think them odious ;
but this heterodox opinion must be whispered, for the Sa-
cristan pointed them out as the chief ornaments of the
church ! In the chapel of L'Annunziata is an altar of chased
silver, also a bas-relief of Adam and Eve with the Serpent.
Two figures by Andrea del Sarto I admired much. But the
picture which does indeed enrich this cathedral is a St.

74 ART AND NATURE

A^nes by the same master. The perfect purity of her love-
liness seems to cast a halo around the painting. I could
have wished to have had more time to examine some other
paintings, hut we were obliged to hasten to the Campanile —
strange, even startling in its appearance ! It leans from the
perpendicular even more than I had expected — indeed, so
much that I felt quite nervous on approaching close under
the side to which it leans ; for one could oolite fancy that at
any moment a breath of wind might cause its fall. Bet ore
we left, the tine chime of bells Avas rung in the Campanile.
One of these bells is of immense power ; it weighs 12,000
pounds, and has a tremendous depth and reverberation of
tone, tending to shew still more the strange security of this
tower, which can support the weight of these enormous hells
thus violently swung from side to side, and causing the whole
fabric to vibrate with the sound.

The Baptistery is a circular building of rich variegated
marble, with Corinthian pillars supporting the cupola. In
the interior is a font exquisitely ornamented with lapis-lazuli
and agates, and most delicate carving. The pulpit is of pure
white marble, ornamented with basso-relievos of great ex-
cellence. A hurried glance was all we could afford to the
Baptistery, as we wished to spend the little time left us in
the Campo Santo. I regret our being so much hurried ; for
the Campo Santo is a place where one should either spend a
week or merely walk through it, taking in the general effect,
without attempting to examine any details. It is the most
celebrated cemetery in Italy, and has given its name to all
similar places of interment. It was built to enclose the earth
which was brought by the Archbishop Ubaldo from the Holy
Land in 12C0. Slender pillars of white marble, with the
most fairy-like tracery filling up the arches they support.

I'NDElt AN ITALIAN SKY.

surround an oblong quadrangle, in the centre of which is the
" sacred earth." It is difficult to say what is the impression
produced by the enormous collection of sarcophagi, statues,
relics of Grecian and Koman tombs, arches, pillars, ancient
pieces of sculpture, basso-relievos ; in short, a wondrous mix-
ture of every kind of relic, and art of almost every age. Some
Egyptian mummies and tombs in good preservation are
placed close to modern tablets, erected to the memory of
families of note in Pisa. It is a strange medley, and in so
brief a visit as ours was, leaves nothing but a confused and
unsatisfied feeling in the mind. The paintings are curious
and interesting from their great antiquity, but it must be
difficult to understand the subjects, and to decipher the
figures, amidst the decay and damp which have so much
effaced them. One modern monument I cannot pass without
a word of notice : it is the figure of a woman — the dazzling
whiteness of the marble made more striking by the dim light
and dusky hue of all around it. Her face and figure of
queenlike majesty, but with an expression of intense anguish
pent up within her own bosom, and hidden beneath a sternly
cold exterior that is almost painful to look on, so real, so
lifelike is it. This figure, we understood, was a portrait of
the wife of him whose monument it is ; and there was a
medallion likeness of himself on the tomb. It is one of the
finest pieces of sculpture I have yet seen. I gathered a few
leaves growing opposite this monument, and our time having
expired, we were obliged to return to the hotel.

From Pisa we proceeded the same day by railway to Leg-
horn, accomplishing the distance in about half an hour. The
wind was so high the following morning we entirely gave up
the idea of going on to Naples by sea. We therefore sent for
Ferdinando, and. to my great satisfaction, made an agree-

76 ART AND NATURE

merit with him to convey us to Rome. He had previously
told us his home was in " Livorno," and at my special
request lie came back in the evening to conduct me to pay a
visit to his wile and child. I was nut a little curious to see the
manage of an Italian cottage, and was agreeably surprised
when 1 did. After traversing several streets we reached a
small house, with a fruit and vegetable shop on the ground-
floor in front, and two very neat rooms, a bed-room and
small parlour, behind. Everything was beautifully clean,
and the arrangements evinced a degree of taste for which I
was not prepared. With evident pride Ferdinando presented
his wife to me, quite a young girl, not more than sixteen,
with bright black eyes and beautiful hair, arranged in the
classic manner so general here, very low on the head, with a
large silver bodkin through the plaits. She exhibited to nie,
with no small satisfaction, a merry little babe of four months
old, bundled up in their extraordinary fashion, and looking
more like a trussed chicken than a human being ! A venerable
couple, his father and mother, completed the family group.
My visit seemed to gratify them all, the pretty young wife
particularly. She looked somewhat mournful when she
heard her husband was going away again immediately ; but
added, with a pretty gracefulness which seems to belong to
this nation, that she was happy that he should serve me. I
shall often think with interest of the little home scene I
witnessed in sunny Italy, when I visit some of our own

people at W .

Next morning it wras necessary to prepare for a visit from
the douaniers, who came to search our trunks, and what is
called " plomb" the luggage. After a civil and not very
strict investigation they saw all the boxes locked, and then
fastened lead balls upon each, squeezing the balls flat with

1 Nl>Ki; AN ITALIAN SKY.

an instrument which left imprinted the seal of the dogana.

We had to pay ten francs for this ceremony, but it cleared us
a great part of our journey. Ferdinando awaited our arrival
at Pisa, where the carriage and horses had previously been
left : it was like returning home to find ourselves once more
comfortably settled in our old friend the carriage. The
road was not particularly interesting. Our first resting-place
was at Era ; and that night we slept at " L'Autriche Bianca,"
a tolerably comfortable house, and very civil people. The
next day we reached Poggibonsi to dinner : it is a very poor
inn, but we had a nice walk through some vineyards. This
town was for some years the residence of the Italian poet
Boccaccio. He was buried in the church, and a fine monu-
ment erected to his memory, but by some unaccountable
negligence both the tomb and the monument were lost or
destroyed. We were anxious to reach Sienna early, that Ave
might be able to visit its fine cathedral.

Finding nothing to detain us in the gloomy and comfort-
less inn — the best the town afforded, we gladly made our
escape to the cathedral : it appeared to me the finest in this
style of architecture we have yet seen ; built of alternate
black, and red and white marble, the effect is most peculiar
to an unaccustomed eye. The clustered pillars of the interior
are fine, the capitals adorned with rich carvings of figures
and foliage. At each end is a circular window of stained
glass, and the roof is blue, studded with gold stars. The
mosaic pavement is the greatest attraction of the interior,
and quite unrivalled of its kind. It is not the ordinary
tessellated pavement so common, but beautifully and softly
shaded from dark gray into white. Figures and scenes are
represented with great taste ; the finest piece we saw was by
Beccafumi, representing Adam and Eve leaving the Garden

78 ai;t ani> NATUKE

of Eden after the Fall. A great part of this wonderful pave-
ment is boarded over to preserve it, which, of course, injures
the effect, although it is so managed that parts can be opened
n]». The Chigi Chapel is remarkable for its rich carving and
costly ornaments, but we passed on to the library, in which
are kept most exquisitely illuminated Missals. The brilliant
colours, so soft, yet gorgeous, surpass anything I ever saw of
this kind ; and I could have spent an hour in examining the
exquisite designs. Here also Ave saw the celebrated antique
group of the Three Graces, in Greek marble, found under the
foundations in the thirteenth century.

Before returning to the inn, I was anxious to see a picture
of which I had heard a great deal, so we found our way to
the church of " St. Agostino ;" and the result was almost a
determination never again to go hunting after " wonderful
pictures !" Never did I see anything more horrible than
this ! A dark confused mass of struggling forms, with a
multitude of deformed looking little wretches, more like
kittens or rats than anything else ; but I wish not to impress
anything so revolting on my memory by recording it. I was
pleased with a St. Jerome by Spagnoletti, and the Baptism of
Constantine by Francesco Vanni.

The Palazzo Pubblico, with its lofty tower, Delia Mangia,
stands in one of those large open areas which, in the ancient
flourishing times of the Republic, were used for games and
other popular amusements. The gates of Sienna are still
remarkable, though of thirty-eight only nine now remain.

The following day's journey was truly as dreary, and
utterly devoid of interest, as can be imagined. Not a blade
of grass, not a shrub of any kind, will grow in this wretched
soil. Soil, indeed, it is not ; neither is it rock ; but a species
of burnt clay spread over the whole district far as the eye

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 7'J

can reach. It seems as if some volcanic devastation must
thus have laid waste the whole country. We dined at Buon-
convento, a small town. During our usual walk we dis-
covered a country road with more signs of cultivation, where
the vine, at least, grew luxuriantly. The clusters of grapes
hung over the hedges, inviting us to a delicious feast as we
wandered on. The inhabitants, as in most of these towns,
are most wretched-looking creatures, and follow in troops,
begging and scrambling for small coins. The road is a con-
tinued and wearisome ascent, and at San Guirico, a small
town on a rocky eminence, it is frightfully steep. Again a
long heavy drag brings you, after some miles, to a solitary inn
called " La Scala d'Orcia," standing high up on a desolate
plain. There we stopped for our night's quarters. The
wind was howling and moaning dismally through the long
passages, and large stone-floored half empty rooms. Verily
it looked like an abode for ghosts, if not for the bandits with
which one's childish recollections of travellers' tales in Italy
are associated ! It was yet early, so in spite of visionary
terrors, or the gusts of wind, I went out to look about.
Climbing a height not far off, dreary was the scene that met
my gaze ! A barren monotonous wilderness spread far away,
and black heavy masses of cloud rolled up from the horizon
all around. The whole country looked a fitting haunt for
the very genius of the storm ; and as I turned to go back, it
passed through my mind, " How fearfully grand a thunder-
storm would be here !" In the large sitting-room we spied a
hearth, suggesting the cheering idea of a fire, and sending
for some logs of wood we soon had a lively blaze crackling
and singing on it. There is always something cheerful in
the bright flickering of a wood fire ; and when I had let
down some curtains over the windows, and drawn a table

so ART AND NATURE

close in round the fire, there was a look of home comfort
even in that dreary room. Our tea seemed doubly refresh-
ing, and I almost fancied my grandfather's graphic descrip-
tions of these parts more interesting from the circumstances
in which I again perused them.

Thus enjoying the genial warmth of the fireside, I had
forgotten all about my fears for the storm, when there came
a tremendous blast of wind, accompanied by a lurid flame,
which lighted the whole room, and instantly a terrible crash
of thunder caused the very foundation of the house to shake.
Peal succeeded peal for some hours, and a more awful
thunder-storm I do not remember. When it had passed
away, the wind completely sank, and the night became still
and quiet.

A continuation of the same dreary road brought us next
day to the barren volcanic mountain of Radicofani, and
through the deep ravine of the Formone. Huge masses of
basalt seem to have been tossed here and there, and all
vegetation obliterated. We passed Eadicofani, a large
straggling house: it is the inn described by my grandfather
" as a fitting abode for witches, with its black raftered
roofs and long dark passages." Still higher up on the moun-
tain, on the very summit of the cone, is the ruined Castle of
Ghino di Tacco. A very steep descent leads to the valley of
Rigo, where we bad to pass through a rapid stream, at times
impassable, as Ferdinando told us, and shortly after, arrived
at the miserable little inn at Ponte Centino — the Papal fron-
tier station and custom-house. Here our ten francs' worth
of lascia passare ceased to benefit us, but the ever potent
assistance of a piastre easily settled the business. We met
for the first time with an uncivil host and hostess, in addi-
tion to the bad fare, to which we are more accustomed. Not

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 81

long after leaving this ill-starred place, one of our horses fell
and cut its knees most terribly ; whereupon Ferdinando pro-
ceeded to doctor it after a manner more national than humane,
by throwing dry dust from the road upon the wound !

We gladly welcomed the sight of fine wood once more ;
oak, cork, and olive trees line the road, and numberless
cascades dash into a ravine below. San Lorenzo is the next
town, built on a hill whence we obtained the first view of the
Lake of Bolseno, with its picturesque shores, surrounded by
lofty hills, covered with wood to their summit. Very beau-
tiful is the descent into the valley. There are Etruscan
ruins, the remains of the ancient city of Valsinium, portions
of Corinthian pillars strewed among wild flowers, caverns and
fissures in the mountain sides, which at night are to be seen,
as Mr. Beckford mentions, twinkling with lights, proving
them to be human habitations. But amidst this profusion of
Nature's loveliness, a strange feeling of utter stillness and
loneliness reigns around this lake. Not a human dwelling
on the shores — not a sail upon the waters — no sound of
voices ; and, at the hour we reached it, not even a labourer
to be seen ! The beauty of Lago Bolseno is treacherous in-
deed ; for amid all this luxuriance of vegetation, malaria is
hidden in its most fatal form. We were told the labourers
dare not remain in its vicinity after sunset, and no one has
been able to examine the geology of the lake. No adequate
reason, it appears, has ever been assigned for the terrible
scourge in so fertile and beautiful a district. There is soine-
tliing almost fearful to a stranger in tills invisible calamity —
invisible save in its effects. It might be fancy, but we cer-
tainly thought a dark and heavy vapour hovered over the
centre of the lake, and we could fancy that the spirit of the
plague was shrouded in it !

82 ART A Nl» NATURE

The picturesque town of Bolseno is at some little distance
from the lake. The inn very prettily situated, clean and
nicely kept, with an exquisite view from the windows. After
tea, as was my wont, 1 took up the traveller's hook. Amid
many strange names of no interest for me, my eye rested on
a well-known hand and name, " The Marquis and Marchioness

of D ," in dear M 's handwriting. I inquired what

rooms they had occupied, and, as I expected, found they were
our own. It was pleasant to fancy they had been there, and
certainly lent an interest to the room that it had not before.

A good night's rest refreshed us, and we set off early, so
as to reach Yiterbo in good time. Our excellent Ferdinando
was always ready to meet our wishes, — starting early or late,
as suited best what we wished to see, and even shortening
the mid-day rest, if we were desirous to arrive early in the
afternoon at our night's quarters. In this, as in all else, he
differed from the generality of his class, who, at least, have
the character of being tyrants as regards the movements of
those who are so far at their mercy.

We got out, to walk in the early morning, as we were
slowly winding up a steep ascent. Very lovely was the scene
Ave looked on. The dewy mist had scattered diamonds on
all around, which the bright sun was now gathering as spoils,
as they glittered beneath his beams. They rested with
lingering fondness on the thousands of bright wild flowers
which enamelled the wooded banks by the side of the road,
— while the morning mist, rising like a curtain, and still
hiding the tops of the hills, permitted the radiant sunshine
to fall on a part of the lake which lay encased within the
mountains. We could not but own that the dark genius of
the place had either shrunk from the contest with the orb of
day, or lay in subtle beauty on the bosom of the waters !

ONDEB AN ITALIAN SKY.

A long ascent, which we but slowly climbed, even with the
help of two additional horses, brought us at length to the
town of Montefiascone, situated on ;i rocky eminence, and
crowned with an old castle, commanding a fine view of the
lake and surrounding country. I asked Ferdinando if there
was not some tale connected with this place, and he instantly
related the following, which one can but hope is an ill-
natured invention. " The Bishop Johan Tugger was very
fond of wine — ' comme de coutume avec ces gens la,' interposed
he — especially of the vintage of Montefiascone. When par-
ticularly satisfied with the wine, he signified his approbation
by the word 'Est.' On the occasion when his libations were
prolonged till he actually expired amid his flagons, he is said to
have written, when speech failed him, on the wall at his side,
' Est, Est, Est,' and thus this particular wine has since been
designated." We procured a fiaschetta of it, which we took
on with us to Viterbo. It is very delicious, sparkling and
effervescing like champagne, but much sweeter.

The hotel " Aquila Nera," to which we went in Viterbo,
is close to one of the pretty fountains for which this city is
remarkable. As soon as we could we visited the church of
St. Francisco, to see the famous picture of " The Deposition
of the Cross," by Sebastian del Piombo. It is very injudi-
ciously placed upon a gloomy wall, as it would require a flood
of light to do justice to it. It is doubtless a masterly paint-
ing, and yet is unpleasing to me. We intended seeing the
Cathedral, and wandered a long way to it, only to find the
sacristan absent, at his dinner. We did not wait : the point
being very doubtful whether it was worth seeing.

The road, for some distance after leaving Viterbo, skirts
the margin of the Lago di Vico, a lovely little lake about
three miles in circumference, whose steep sides are covered

84 ART AND NATURE

with wood. It is supposed to be the crater of an extinct
volcanic mountain, and there are traditions of an Etruscan
city, said to have been overwhelmed by its eruptions.

A little beyond Lago di Vico arc the heights of Monterosi,
from the summit of which we enjoyed what is, I believe,
rarely obtained, a clear and cloudless view of the whole ex-
panse of country around.

Spread out before us, bounded on one side by the Apen-
nines, and on the other by the ocean glittering in the horizon
like a girdle of silver, lay that vast plain — the theatre of so
much that has been of world-wide interest for thousands of
years. In the centre of the plain, the object we had so longed
to look upon — the " Eternal City," — towTers, temples, and
tombs in countless numbers, and the stupendous dome of
St. Peter's standing out against the clear sky, rising in giant
majesty above all. Yes, there was Rome ! and as I looked
upon it what a flood of associations and events connected with
the world's history rushed upon my recollection. The magic
wand of fancy seemed anew to people those plains. Trium-
phant hosts passed along ; eagles waved on high, on the
proud banners ; haughty warriors sped onwards ; the car and
the chariot rolled on : — the Emperor of the World approaches
the Seven-Hilled City ; the arches shew forth the trophies of
a thousand victories ; and, as the sound of many waters, the
voices of the assembled multitude arise ; the mighty Cresar
passes beneath the arch of triumph ; — " he went — he saw —
he conquered !" and now fresh crowned with laurels, he leads
back his veteran troops ; the eagle's flight is stayed, for the
world is at his feet ! Yet even amidst that bright scene are
broken hearts and bowed heads. Captive kings add to the
splendour of the conqueror's glory, prisoners are there from
every nation : the fair sons of the island in the west, sometime

I'NDKK AN ITALIAN SKY. 85

esteemed too mean to tempt the conqueror to its shore, till
the won world could offer him no mure. And now they
mingle with the captive crowd who in future ages shall reign
when she who seemed but fitly named " Eternal" shall lie
prostrate in dust — a very chaos of ruins — " the lone mother
of dead nations." With this chain of thought, the visions of
the glorious past faded away, and the present became all the
more sadly prominent. The tumult of war, the din of con-
quest, with all their pomp and circumstance, have passed
away — all now among the things that were. Stillness and
desolation reign around her. Here and there may be seen a
solitary tenement, meet habitation for the ragged vine-dresser,
or the wretched tender of a few goats which feed among the
scanty herbage, and start away from the passing traveller ;
or perchance the ruined fragment of some ancient tower, for
what purpose reared the blackened crumbling stones refuse to
tell. And this is the entrance to Rome — this the way to the
once proud mistress of the world !

That night we spent at Ronciglione — a poor dirty town,
with a miserable inn crowded with people, being the first
stage from Rome.

Our impatience throughout the next day's journey was
scarce to be restrained, and we hastened our departure from a
miserable little hole, " La Storta," where wre had to rest the
horses, — the last pause in our pilgrimage ere entering the
imperial city.

Oh ! it was strange to look on the " yellow Tiber," — to cross
its waters flowing here through a wilderness of nuns and
of tombs. As we passed beneath a noble archway, Byron's
lines came to my recollection, —

" Whose arch or pillar meets me,
Titus' or Trajan's? No; 'tis that of Time!"

m. ART AND NATURE

In the- midst of these interesting reminiscences we had to
wend our way to the " dogana ;" but thanks to a piastre we
only went through the form, and were speedily set at liberty.
The " Hotel de la Russie " stands at the corner of the " Piazza
delPopolo," quite at hand therefore on entering the city, and
though not the one we intended to go to, we found it so com-
fortable that we did not regret the mistake. It was impos-
sible to resist going out for a little that same evening, but a
cutting east wind soon sent us back. The following was a day
of rest, in every acceptation of the term, and one which we
greatly needed, as the excitement and fatigue of our long
journey were beginning to tell upon us ; and yet what

cause for thankfulness is it that W has borne both so

much better than could have been expected.

I do not purpose waiting any of my impressions of St.
Peter's, save that it equalled, nay, if possible, surpassed my
most ardent imaginings. I shall defer it until our proposed
return to Rome. Nevertheless, the day on which I first
beheld that glorious temple is one to be remembered.

Here, alas ! we were obliged to part with our trusty Fer-
dinando, as it did not suit his arrangements to go farther
south at that season, except for a sum we did not feel it right
to give merely to secure the greater amount of personal com-
fort from his attendance. We parted with mutual regret,
and many charges did he give to the "voitmier" with whom
we made an engagement, to care for us and serve us faith-
fully. This man had come from Naples with a family ; and
as he was anxious to return there, he could take us for much
less, and in a shorter tune also, having four horses. He was
attentive and civil, but could not in any degree supply the
place of Ferdinando.

We left Rome about eight o'clock on Tuesday morning ;

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

and had a glimpse of the Coliseum and the Temple of Mars
mi our way to the Porta San Giovanni, through which passes
the road to Naples. It is with feelings of excited interest one
cnlers on the celebrated Appian Way. It has probably been
little changed, scarcely even much repaired, since the days
of the ancient empire. But it is not un the recollections
which history supplies the mind here dwells ; it is the foot-
steps of owe man which imparts so deep an interest to this
road. Never before did 1 read the simple narrative of St.
Paul's memorable journey to Rome with the same feelings as
during our passage along the path once trodden by the holy
Apostle; — of his meeting at the " Three Taverns" with the
brethren who came from Rome to welcome him ; and the com-
fort he derived from this proof of their sympathy, when, as
we are told, " he thanked God and took courage." Oh, what
a contrast to the triumphant entry into the imperial city,
which had passed in visionary splendour before me from
the heights of Monterosi, was the humble approach of this
weary prisoner ; and yet when men shall have ceased to tell
of the tame and conquests of these mighty of the earth, the
entrance of the humble follower of the despised Nazarene
shall hold a place in the records of that Eternal Word which
must remain till time shall be no more ; and many a voice
amid those who stand around the throne of the majesty on
high will bless the hour when first the Apostle to the Gentiles
passed within the gates of Rome, bringing with him "glad
tidings of great joy" to many who were then "sitting in
darkness and in the shadow of death," strengthening " the
saints in Caesar's household," and preparing, in the very
heart of the heathen empire, that wondrous " way of the
Lord," which shall one day issue in the triumph of the Cross.
About four hours' travelling brought us to Albano. This

ART AND NATURE

town is beautifully situated on a rising ground, and sur-
rounded with groves of citron. Our mid-day rest for the
Ik uses gave us time to visit the Lago Albano. By the help
of sundry rather confused directions, we succeeded in finding-
it without the assistance of a guide, and we are always glad
when we can dispense with the services of these gentlemen.
Though we had to climb a steep hill under a broiling sun,
our exertions were amply rewarded. The deep basin in
which the lake lies, is evidently the crater of an extinct
volcano, and the effect is singular as well as beautiful, as you
look down upon its dark unruffled bosom. It seems to lie
below the reach of the summer storm or the winter blast,
calm and still in its deep recess. Scarce a ripple answered to
the gentle breeze that fanned us as we stood on the wooded
banks, and looked into the transparent depths beneath.
Around its shores, and almost washed by its waters, grow a
profusion of lovely wild flowers of every hue, peeping out from
their leafy bowers, among the tangled brushwood. The little
towns of Alicia and Nemi are situated on rocky eminences
overhanging the lake, and are great additions to the pictur-
esque beauty of the scene. For some time, after leaving
Albano, the road passes through shrubberies of myrtle —
daphne and arbutus, till the air is almost laden with their
fragrance. I could not resist stopping the carriage, and get-
ting out, to wralk for a few minutes among these fragrant
trees. I gathered several branches of myrtle, covered with
the starry blossom, frequently using them as fans — for we
were annoyed by the multitude of flies which every afternoon
swarmed in the carriage.

Cisterna, a somewhat gloomy and comfortless inn, was our
night quarter ; leaving it at six next morning, and passing
Tone Treponte, occupying the site of Appii Forum, men-

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 89

tioned by the sacred historian, we shortly after found we bad
entered on the Pontine marshes. Desolate they certainly

are, — in many parts nothing hut reeds growing from stagnant
water are to be seen ; yet I was, on the whole, agreeably sur-
prised in passing through these far-famed marshes. The
Herculean task of draining has been taken up by several of
the Popes successively, and the road gradually raised and im-
proved, till finally brought to its present state of perfection by
Pius VI. and VII. The avenue of trees on either side pre-
vents one being so sensible of the barrenness around; in
short, as our four spirited little horses carried us along the
smooth and level road at full trot, with the sunshine resting
on the green plains and trees, so little of the terrible seemed
there, I was almost inclined to think the danger ascribed to
the place, if not unfounded, at least exaggerated. I was
some time later all too sadly undeceived. A gentleman

with whom W was acquainted, crossing the plains too

late in the day, was seized with an attack of malaria on his
arrival at Naples, and being previously delicate, he fell a
victim to its effects.

At the first rising ground the marshes end, their extent
being in all about twenty-five miles. The little town of
Terracina occupies a bold and striking situation. House
rises above house, and rock above rock. At one part the preci-
pice has been converted into an impregnable fortress, merely
by the addition of a few yards of building, and a little cutting
away here and there. The cactus and Indian fig form
appropriate hangings to this strange place, and a particularly
fine palm-tree, on one of the high parts of the rock, adds to
the effect of the whole. There {ire some Etruscan ruins of
much interest, but the heat was so intense, we could only
seek for a shady place for our usual walk. For a few moments

1)0 ART AND NATURE

we stum I mi the rocky shore, but even there I felt the heat so
overpowering, I was obliged to return to the hotel. Outside
the town we drove under an enormous rock, which actually
overhangs the road, pushing it almost into the sea. and seem-
ing to keep jealous watch over the pass of LantuLe. where the
Papal States end, and the Neapolitan kingdom begins. The
road is excellent, still constructed on the foundations of the
Appian Way. It is bordered on one side by steep rocks,
gemmed with an endless variety of beautiful flowers and
shrubs of myrtle. Heaths, too, of different kinds, cast a
mantle of purple over many a rugged precipice on the other
side. The sea washes the foundation of the Way.

Shortly after passing the barrier where passports are ex-
amined on the Neapolitan side, we came to a pestiferous lake
of salt water, said to have been once the site of a town. A t
Fondi we had a very annoying search, all the more so from
our having paid for a fascia passare at the frontier, and been
at the pains of taking one of the officials with us to testify
to the fact. Our witness, who had perched himself behind
the carriage, probably had some errand of his own in the
town, and, accordingly, had quietly disappeared before his
services were required, leaving us at the mercy of a most
disagreeable looking set of custom-house officials.

From Fondi to Mola di Graeta we had a delightful drive :
on approaching the latter the scenery becomes surpassingly
beautiful. Built upon a promontory jutting out into the
sea, it forms one side of a little bay. The hotel to which we
drove is in the outskirts of the town, close upon the shore,
with a delicious orange garden sloping down from it to the
water's edge. It is erected upon the foundations of an ancient
edifice, which is said to have been the favourite villa of
Cicero, whose assassination near this place is commemorated

I'M'KK AN ITALIAN SKY. HI

by a ruined tower still standing. A radiant evening was
closing in as we reached this most lovely and bewitching
spot. The rocky promontories and tall stone pines threw
their long shadows upon the sea; from many a way side
mound of wild flowers, and many a grove of orange and
myrtle stole the gentle breeze, bearing on downy wing the
sweetness of their breath ; and over the bosom of the placid
sea, now coloured by the slowly fading hues of purple and of
rose which the parting sun had bequeathed to the evening
hour, glided the homeward bound hark, the soft plash of its
oars mingling with the murmuring waves upon the pebbly
shore. And yet the memory of that hour is well-nigh weak-
ened by the scene of glowing moonlight which succeeded it,
as a little later we opened our windows and stood upon the
balcony. That, in truth, is one of the most delicious reminis-
cences we have treasured of Italy's fair clime. The sleeping-
hay, with its circling arms faintly visible, stretching into far
distance — the almost golden reflection on the trembling
water, from the intense radiance of the moon — the hushed
stillness which lay on every object, and seemed felt by all
alike, — and the sweet odours wafted from the orange blos-
soms, while the dark shining leaves glittered in the silvery
beam — all threw7 a spell of beauty over our enchained and
delighted senses, beyond anything I have ever experienced.

Next morning we left Mola di Gaeta so early that all
around was yet bathed in moonlight — and it seemed strange
to pass so suddenly as we did from tins, to a glowing sunrise
two or three horns later. Travelling rapidly we reached the
town of Capua before mid-day. A very miserable dinner was
somewdiat enlivened by the harps of two Italian youths, who
played very nicely. We started as soon as possible, being-
anxious to arrive at Naples by day-light. Along the wide

92 ART AND NATURE

straight avenue, which the road becomes beyond Capua, we
met picturesque groups of peasants, in gay red handkerchiefs
and coloured shirts, earning baskets of grapes, often orna-
mented with bright flowers.

But we had little time to attend to them, so anxiously
did we keep looking out for the first sight of Vesuvius. A
turn in the road brought it at length into full view, and for
once the tiresome Custom-house, which at the same instant
reared its dingy front before us, was comparatively unheeded.
The mountain stood out in beautiful relief against the trans-
parent sky, and so distinct as to seem much nearer to us
than in reality it was. From its highest point a column of
pure white smoke rose slowly, and as it curled upwards,
spreading out as it ascended, glowed almost to a rich crimson,
either from the reflected fire of the crater beneath, or from
the rays of the setting sun. Rapidly we passed on and drew
near to Naples, and rapidly died away the glory of the even-
ing skies ; the short twilight was well-nigh gone ere we
entered the busy and bewildering street of the Toledo. On
either side dazzling shops, illuminated with many-coloured
lamps, reflected again and again from glittering mirrors and
sparkling jewellery in the windows. The crowds of people
passing and repassing — the rapid driving of carriages hither
and thither, the Babel-confusion of human cries and voices —
the palaces, piazzas, churches, and fountains, which we
hurried past, all told that we had reached at length the
gayest and liveliest of Italian cities.

At the " Hotel des Etrangers," we were received with the
most cordial kindness. For many years Madame Ungaro
had been the faithful attendant of one very dear to me, so
that it was with real gratification I looked forward to seeing
her again. Our tea was prepared for us in a delightful

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 93

apartment furnished with many English comforts, wearing
a look of home, most refreshing after such a journey, and
all the more grateful that we had so long been strangers
to it. I think there is generally a kind of desolate feeling in
arriving, especially in the evening, in a large city where one
knows not a single individual — we were quite cheered, there-
fore, by our kindly welcome, and still more so when Ungaro
put into my hands a large packet of letters from England.
After the long weeks that had elapsed since we heard of our
dear child, great indeed was our thankful happiness to receive
good accounts of her, and of all our valued friends now so
far away. A most comfortable bed, in a large airy room, was
indeed a luxury after the miserable holes we have occupied
lately, and the extreme cleanliness and order of this admira-
bly conducted hotel, was an unceasing subject of remark and
gratulation.

We passed a quiet Sunday with pleasure, finding ourselves
once more in an English place of worship, and gratefully
acknowledging the many mercies which had been vouchsafed
to us since we left the shores of Britain.

Next morning saw us busily employed in search of lodgings,
and having at last fixed on 28, Santa Lucia, we removed there
early, and forthwith settled ourselves and our possessions in a
most pleasant abode. This part of Naples faces the east, and
in the early months of winter is extremely cool and agreeable
as a residence, but after November it is the wisdom of all who
come hither for health to migrate to the warmer quarter of
the Chiaja, a precaution we found it necessary to adopt after
a single month had elapsed.

My first few days' experience of Naples was rendered
rather melancholy by an illness which followed my long con-
tinued fatigues. But let me gratefully acknowledge that it

04 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

proved only a cloud before the sunshine. It was not long-
before I began to be sensible of the effects of the delightful
climate. A feeling of physical enjoyment, in merely living
moving and breathing, succeeded, and seemed to increase
daily. This, added to the extreme beauty of the scenery — the
clear elasticity of the atmosphere — the exciting interest of
the objects everywhere around ns — and, above all, the mani-
fest improvement in my husband's health, gave ns every
reason to congratulate ourselves that we had been led to turn
our steps to Naples.

VISIT TO POMPEII.

bright morning gave promise of a favourable
day for our projected visit to Pompeii. So
eagerly did I anticipate this pleasure, that
scarcely with patience could I sit in the railway
carriage which — with a strange association of
the present with the past — conveyed us thither.

In my earliest recollections the tragic fate of
Pompeii was a subject of deepest interest to my
imagination, and many a lingering wish have I had
to behold it for myself. At length we stopped at
— (how strangely it sounds!) — the Pompeii Station; but
on entering a gate we found a guide who told us we were
fully a mile and a half from the ruins. The day was
broiling, the road dusty, but I could feel nothing, save that
every step brought us nearer. Turning off from the high
road, and passing through vineyards and cotton-fields, we
came in sight of the enormous heaps of earth and ashes
thrown out by the excavators. Winding by the side of these
for a little way we reached a sudden turn, and walking on a
few yards, an arched gateway stood before us. It was the

96 AKT AND NATURE

" Gate of Herculaneum " — the entrance to the " Street of the
Tombs !"' We looked on Pompeii, the City of the Dead !

After standing for a few moments to realize the strange
new ideas that crowded on the mind, we followed onr guide
first into the House of Diomede, the villa that was earliest
disentombed at Pompeii, between 1771 and 177G. The rooms
are just as they were originally, with paintings and mosaics
in the principal apartments. The garden is surrounded by a
colonnade of Corinthian pillars. At the gate the skeleton of
Diomede was found, with a key in one hand and golden
ornaments and coins in the other. In the subterranean cor-
ridors used as cellars, seventeen skeletons were discovered ;
one of them, supposed from the number of jewels on her
person to have been the wife of Diomede, crushed against the
wall, where the mark of her form is still to be seen. With a
feeling of shuddering horror we left the gloomy vaulted pas-
sage, and came next to a building where the ashes of the
dead were deposited. Several monuments rise on either side
of this " the Street of the Tombs," with here and there orna-
mented seats, where once grave senators sat and pondered on
the affairs of the Commonwealth, — where once the fond mother
sat and gazed upon her joyous-heart ed child, dreaming bright
dreams of his future greatness whilst he played at her feet,*
— where once the sons and daughters of Pompeii, at the
sweet hour of eve, sat and looked out on the broad and placid
sea with its delicious coasts, and its varied and glowing hues
taken from the rosy clouds which mirrored themselves in its
bosom, whilst fragrance was wafted by every breath from the
rich plains, the vineyards, and olive groves. We passed on :
centuries melting away as we gazed — the past blending
strangely with the present !

* The skeletons of a mother and child were found on one of these seats.

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 97

"The House of the Vestals." Eere the word "Salve,"
(welcome,) in mosaic, is on the door-sill of the chief room,

as distinct as the day the letters were inlaid. Still and
silent all ! A welcome unheard by the ear seemed fittest for
that scene of desolation. We entered and looked around,
and vividly came the touching remembrance of the female
ornaments and articles of young girls' toilets which were
found here. Close to the House of the Vestals is a shop,
in fact a sort of ancient cafe, where acid drinks, much used
by the Romans, were sold, with the circular marks of the
cups or glasses upon its marble counter. Still following our
guide, we visited in succession, the " Custom-House," where
weights and measures still in use in Naples were discovered,
— a place for the manufacture of soap, a baking-house with
a large oven, and hand-mills for grinding corn ; a wine and
oil shop, where several " amphora?" for holding such fluids
were found. I scarcely knew why, but to me there was
something far inure impressive in all these little details of
domestic life than in the grander public buildings. Amid
these traces of a breathing, moving, busy existence, one feels
oppressed with the reality of all around. It is not a dim and
shadowy picture, such as history reveals to us. It is not the
past we look on ! We stand and think and speak as they
did ; we occupy their places with the same bodily frames ;
we eat and drink, sleep and wake, even as they did; the ob-
jects around are mostly so familiar, that at first we almost
wonder at the awe that steals over us, when we begin to
realize that all is not what it seems ! Everything tells of the
living, but life itself is gone ! It is but the clay cold form we
behold, — the spirit that animated has departed : it is the city
of the dead ! Again we wandered on, and came to the house
which the inscription, hewn in the marble over the door, as is

US ART AM" NATURE

the case iii most of the houses, — hewn whilst yet the inhabi-
tants lived, — tells you is the house of Sallust. In giving
sitiiic description of it, T will name at the same time the
house of Pansa, which is perhaps even larger, though both
are specimens of the kind of dwellings used by the rich and
noble Romans. You enter, by a small passage, the "Aresti-
liulmn," into a hall called the "Atrium," generally surrounded
by columns. From the sides of this hall are doors opening
into small sleeping apartments ; at the end are two recesses,
devoted, we are told, to the ladies of the family. In the
centre of the tessellated pavement which adorns the hall, is
a square reservoir for rain-water, called the " Impluvium."
Near this were usually placed the " lares," or household gods.
Opposite the principal entrance to the hall is the " Tablinum,"
answering to our drawing-room, in which are to be found the
richest mosaics, and finest frescoes and paintings, while off
this room is the " Triclinium," or dining-room. This apart-
ment is generally found to possess raised marble couches :
on these were laid soft cushions ; and thus luxuriously the
inhabitants reclined during their often prolonged hours of
feasting ; music also delighting them the while. At least in
this way many of the arrangements, of which traces are dis-
covered, seem to be best explained. In some of these apart-
ments a narrow passage is observed, for the use of the nume-
rous slaves in attendance, to obviate their presence in the
room, or their passing to and fro therein. All these rooms
open into a square colonnade or "Peristyle." In the larger
houses, other doors again lead from this species of inner court
to places I felt inclined to designate as ceUs, but which, in
fact, should be termed bed-rooms, inasmuch as they must
have been used as sleeping apartments, singularly comfortless
as thev are. I think every one must be struck with the

I M'KK AN ITALIAN SKY.

total absence of anything like comfort or domestic retirement
in all these beautiful dwelling-places. The delightful climate
rendering artificial warmth unnecessary, is, of course, one
reason for this ; but, 1 must own, not even the delicious soft-
ness of a summer night, not even the peculiar brightness of
the star-light, nor the almost --olden radiance of the moon-
beams in the favoured clime, could reconcile me to such
dark and cell-like apartments, as those pointed out in the
palaces of these all hut princely Romans. But to return to
the house of Pansa. At one end of the Peristyle is the
kitchen, here ornamented with numerous frescoes in excellent
preservation. One was especially appropriate, representing
the figure of a cook surrounded by the insignia of Ins office —
a spit, a ham, fish, and other articles. From the Peristyle
an open passage leads to the garden, or " Viridarium," always
adorned with fountains, a basin for fish, statues, and a profu-
sion of gay flowers. The walls too, were frequently painted
with frescoes, representing columns, trees, and temples in
perspective, so that at the entrance, looking through the whole
suite of rooms, and on into the garden, the length was appa-
rently much increased by the deceptive character of these
frescoes. The effect must have been very brilliant ; the eye
taking in at one glance courts and rooms, floors inlaid with
the richest colours, walls painted deep red, and blue and
white, with light floating figures on the glowing ground,
columns of pure white marble, the glittering spray of the
fountains falling amid the rainbow tints of a thousand flowers !
The ''House of the Tragic Poet" is a. beautiful specimen of
one of these costly dwellings, though it is somewhat smaller
than those already named: the mosaics are exceedingly good
both in colour and design ; and some of the frescoes are con-
sidered tin' finest yet discovered. One struck me particularly:

Km A UT AND NATL' RE

it represents a group of figures in ;i circle around one man.

who is reading to them from ;i manuscript. The varied ex-
pression of interest brought out in each of the listeners is
admirable. ( mi the door-sill, as you enter, are the well-known
characters in mosaic, of " Cave Canem," beware of the dog.
Formerly, a huge dog with a very fierce aspect, was painted
in mosaic just beyond these words of caution ; but this fine
piece of mosaic has, with many other valuable things, been
removed from hence to the Museum at Naples. A visit to
that beautiful collection of works of art, and interesting relics
of bygone ages, is rendered doubly attractive after one has
wandered through the scenes they once adorned. They are
no longer objects isolated, and of mere individual beauty ;
they acquire a far deeper interest from the associations with
which one naturally surrounds them.

From this house wre went across a wide street to the public
baths. The white marble hot and cold baths remain in per-
fect preservation — the bronze seats once so softly cushioned —
the niches in the walls once tilled with noblest statues — the
walls themselves yet covered with stucco, richly ornamented,
and the pure white ground of the pavement, on which the
mosaic designs shew with exquisite effect, enable the imagi-
nation to form an idea of the extreme elegance and luxury of
this favourite resort. In this cool spot we sat down to rest,
and having provided ourselves with figs and grapes, my ordi-
nary mid-day fare, we drank some water from the old well
still adjoining the baths. It might be fa n cy. but it seemed
to me the water I tasted made me realize the scenes of former
days more vividly than ever. However that may be, with
recruited strength we resumed our interesting labours, and
visited next the public buildings of the town. The Forum is
of an oblong shape, paved with marble, and supported by a

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. ]n|

double row of columns. The sun shone as of old on the while
glittering pillars, but all else was cold and still and dead !
On the righl are the graceful remains of the Temple of Yenus.
Beyond this the Basilica, or court of justice, a majestic struc-
ture adorned with twenty-eight Corinthian columns. The
Temple of I sis is in good preservation, and possesses peculiar
interest : the walls are ornamented with the pomegranate,
which was consecrated to their goddess. Statues stood in
the niches around the building. Elevated on seven steps of
Parian marble, was the altar, and close to it, on fluted
pedestals, the statues of Isis and the silent and mystic Orus.
A railing of bronze kept the crowd, of worshippers from ap-
proaching this sacred place, as from hence were delivered the
oracles which so long swayed the deluded and superstitious
people. It is strange now to look on this altar. The veil
of mystery has been rent, and there stand revealed the con-
cealed stairs by which the priest ascended behind the statue,
and himself spoke from the marble lips of the goddess!

We left the ruined fane, and passing on, came to a part of
one of the public buildings where, at the moment of the city's
destruction, workmen had been employed upon the columns
— columns never destined to be finished ! They lie now as
they were last touched two thousand years ago ! It is impos-
sible to notice each object of classic and local interest pointed
cut as we proceeded along the Corso to the Theatre. Deep
tracks of wheels are indented on the pavement — the tread of
feet has visibly worn down the raised footpaths, and in these
steps we trod !

It is a noble building that theatre : its pillars, its doors,
its strong seats, rising one above another; its vaulted pas-
sages: all are as perfect as though occupied the night before.
But no tones of music will ever again swell within its walls,

102 ART AND NATURE

ami call their echoes forth. No voice of softest eloquence
again wake the enthusiasm of listening thousands ! the stream

of life, for <»ue and all. lies locked in the Ley sleep of death !

We resumed our way over much of the site of the buried
city to the Amphitheatre. It is supposed that not more than
a third of the town has yet been excavated. This was one of
the most interesting parts of the whole; presenting, as its
utter silence does, so great a contrast to the stirring, exciting,
almost maddening scenes, it once has witnessed! We sat
down, and silently looted around. My fancy was busy, and
soon created for itself a vivid picture of the past. The even-
ing before the last sun rose on the gay, the luxurious, the
dissipated Pompeii, seemed before me, and I thought, too, of
the eve of the world's destruction by the Flood, as well as
that which closed on the devoted Sodom and Gomorrah,
whose sins and whose fate so peculiarly resembled those of
this city. How serenely still, on the eve of the terrible night,
sleeps the starlight on the unconscious city. How breath-
lessly its pillared, streets repose in their security. How calmly
the sculptured forms look down from their marble pedestals.
How softly ripple the dark bine waves beyond ; how cloud-
less the vaulted skies. The giant form of the vast Amphi-
theatre lies part in deeper shadow from the pale moonbeam
resting on its marble columns, while scarce a breath breaks
the still scene, save the murmur of the fountain's spray, whis-
pering soft music to the flowers bathed in its cool freshness!
Oh ! might not such a night as this have steeped in sweetness
the doomed city ere it woke to sleep no more, save the sleep
that knows no waking! Then again my fancy seemed to
retrace its way — to behold the multitudes assembling for the
bloody games so often witnessed in the very spot wherein we
sat. From all parts they pour in : horsemen, pedestrians,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 103

peasants in their gay holiday attire ; senators in their robes
of office ; high-born women with their gorgeous jewels : all
sweep as a living stream into the charmed circle. The seats
are filled, tier above tier — a countless multitude ! The din
is hushed — a strange wild cry is heard: every eye is turned
to the dark caverns below. It is the lion's roar! Another
sound rises above the hinn of voices — a flourish of trumpets
proclaims the approach of the gladiators; the arena is pre-
pared ! A deep breathless hush lay like a spell on the as-
sembled multitudes ! . . . Too vividly came the picture
of horror — the touching description in Childe Harold of the
dying gladiator seemed acted here. 1 turned from it> tearful
idea : and startlingly the wild solitude and unbroken silence
came upon me ! The breeze sighed through the mined
arches, among the walls glanced the noiseless lizard, the only
living creature save ourselves ; the song of the bird came not
then', — the freshness of nature alone breathed of life ; — in
quiet and in stillness the green vines waved around; whilst
the eye rested on the dark and fearful mountain, with its
mysterious sounds, and still smoking fiery summit, standing
out against the warm bright sky, as though to remind one
that it was the Angel of Death that had passed over and
blighted this fair scene.

VESUVIUS.

lgt November 184-3.
o we have really been to the top of Vesuvius !
),.■ made close acquaintance with the burning
S* mountain, that wonder of one's childhood,

™p

that fell and terrible destroyer of cities,
whose eventful history has so often excited
and appalled the imagination in maturer years.
I had always felt that the descriptions one reads
of visits to this mountain were unsatisfactory,
aj^f and did not enable me fully to realize it as an object,
_s-j^ or as a scene. I do not wonder at this now. One
has but to experience it to feel how impossible it is to convey
to another an adequate idea of the sublime impression made
upon the whole moral nature, — the heart, the imagination,
the intellect. There is in it a mingling of fear, and yet of ex-
ultation— of awe, and yet of irresistible curiosity ; and along
with all this, a strange physical effect upon the nervous system,
which makes you feel yourself in circumstances unlike any you
have ever experienced before. So at least it was with me.

The task of ascending Vesuvius, in so far as the difficulty
and fatigue are concerned, is lighter than I had anticipated.

ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 105

Having been conveyed by railway to Resina, a village at the
fool of the mountain, we proceeded to the establishmenl of a
man named Salvatore, who is now — as was his father before
him — a well-known traveller's guide on this expedition. He
is a good specimen of his class, full of tales of wild adventure
and thrilling interest connected with the mountain on which
he may he said to spend his life ; for he told us he is gene-
rally up and down twice in the twenty-four hours, sometimes
much oftener. We found him exceedingly attentive and
obliging, and though doubtless not unwilling to make a
somewhat better bargain for himself with strangers than he
would attempt with the more experienced, he is at any rate
satisfied to abide by his agreement, which is more than can
be said of many of his class ; and we had every reason to
rejoice that we had chosen him, instead of one from among
the clamorous set who waylaid our steps as we approached
the village.

Having procured a competent number of animals, con-
sisting- equally of small active ponies and mules, with their
attendants, we mounted and commenced at once our ascent
from Resina. The route led us by a tortuous and rugged
mule-path, through vineyards and across open wastes covered
with brambles, Spanish broom, and even at this late season
gay with lovely flowers. A deep blue sky was above our
heads, and a bright sun, whose hot rays were somewhat tem-
pered by the fresh breeze that met us from the mountain.
The first half mile of the way was well calculated t^> call
forth associations in harmony with what we had in prospect.
Beneath the lava on which we trod, and on which here and
there, the animals' feet rung with a hollow iron sound, lay the
buried Herculaneum, that city over whose gorgeous temples,
gay palaces, and once busy streets, the dread mountain poured

106 ART AND NATURE

death and ruin in a single night. And now, though eighteen
hundred years have passed away, its iron grasp still baffles the
toil of man to relax. How strangely did the glad sunshine
and beauty above contrast with the gloom and desolation Ave
knew to reign below ! After following this path for about
three-quarters of an hour, we came in sight of what is called
the Hermitage, some distance above us : once in reality what
the name implies, now nothing more than a very dirty pot-
house, used as a resting-place and rendezvous by the hundreds
constantly ascending and descending the mountain. Here
the character of the scene suddenly and completely changed ;
for we came upon the margin of that stupendous sea of lava,
which in 1822 descended from the summit in one unbroken
torrent, spreading out to a mile in breadth, overwhelming
houses and vineyards, and burning and burying for the second
time the town of Torre del Grecco. The savage wildness and
desolation of the scene that now lay before us nothing can
surpass. The only way one can at all describe the appearance
of this vast expanse of lava is to fancy a mighty river of that
extent rushing down the side of a lofty mountain, and then
imagine its tossing billows, its boiling eddies, its mad whirl-
pools, its rapid coursings round projecting rocks, all suddenly
arrested, and changed, in one moment, into dark rusty iron,
with all their fantastic wreaths and agitated shapes retained.
This it required half an hour of slow and toilsome journeying
to cross. The Hermitage stands on an elevated promontory
projecting from the side of the mountain, and having a deep
ravine on either side, so that it is safe at all times from the
sweep of the lava, though in considerable risk of being toppled
down from its airy site by the earthquake. Here it is usual
for travellers to rest for a few minutes, and to refresh them-
selves, if so inclined, with the bread and fruit clamorously

I'NDKi; AN ITALIAN SKY. 107

offered for sale, and quaff a bottle of the delicious wine known
by the name of "Hermitage," and which is the produce of
the vineyards around the spot, Looking- upwards from this
place to the source of the lava-torrent we had crossed, it had
the appearance of what was actually the case— of having
risen up from the interior of the mountain in an immense
liquid mass, boiled over the edge of the wide crater, at first
in a comparatively narrow stream, but gradually spreading
out on each side till it covered the whole plain below. As
we ascended, however, we could distinctly trace the superior
layers made by smaller and more recent eruptions, extending
to a greater or less distance downwards, ere arrested by the
cooling process of the atmosphere. About half an hour after
leaving the Hermitage, as the animals could proceed no
farther, we had to dismount, and pursue our ascent on foot.
Here, when we reached the base of the abrupt cone, about
four-fifths I should think of the whole height above the sea-
level had been accomplished, and perhaps five or six hundred
feet of almost perpendicular climbing remained. Most formi-
dal >le was its aspect. It had the appearance of a gigantic wall
of large scoriated cinders, loosely piled upon each other, simi-
lar to those one sees thrown out as the refuse of a forge or
gas-work, but some of them huge rocks of many tons'
weight. Up this steep breastwork we pursued our way, but
less toilsomely than we could have anticipated, even the laches
making light of it ; partly owing no doubt to the excitement
of the occasion, and not a little to the able and willing assist-
ance of the guides, who, with straps fastened over their
shoulders, the ends of which were given us to hold, cheered on
the flagging with their good-humoured merriment. The heat
of the sun was not oppressive, — thanks to a very free ami
cooling circulation of air, which seemed constantly rushing

1UN A.RT AND NATURE

up in a peculiar way from below, probably occasioned by the
heat of the volcano above, and thus reversing the usual law
of mountain 1 ireezes. About half way up our attention was
directed to a large basin-like ravine, which separates the two
great peaks of Vesuvius, viz., that on which we were, and the
lower, commonly called Monte Somma. This ravine is evi-
dently the old and principal crater of the mountain, which at
one time seems to have formed an unbroken cone. Out of
this vast and gloomy caldron poured, most probably, that
fiery ruin which devastated the ancient Pompeii and Hercu-
laneum. After about forty-five minutes' breathless exertion,
and not less breathless anticipation, we arrived at the top, and
stood upon the verge of the recent crater of the mountain.
It is a hollow circular space, apparently a thousand or twelve
hundred yards from one outermost verge to the other. The
sides of this basin are broken and unequal in height, and in
one part filled up nearly as high as the brim with loose sand
and stones. The rest of the wide space presents all, and even
more of the gloomy grandeur my imagination had attributed
to such a spectacle. On the side at which Ave entered — the
lowest of the crater, and the one at which the eruption had
last broken through, the same hard and black lava filled the
basin to the edge. It covers an area of several acres, in huge
tumultuous broken billows, sometimes piled one above the
other ; sometimes forming deep vortices ; at others projected
upwards in spiral cones : all as though arrested and consoli-
dated while still in the violent action of boiling. There is a
frightful and unrelieved blackness in the hue of it here, as
though the unearthly fluid had come, as indeed it has, from
the very regions of horror and darkness. All around the sides
of the crater, and across the surface of tins dark and undulat-
ing mass, we observed white and vapoury wreaths of smoke

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 1(1'.)

curling up from narrow fissures, which are everywhere to be
traced athwart the sombre surface by streaks of vivid yellow
sulphur. About the middle of this vast basin of the old crater,
rises what is now the living and active crater, in the form of
a cone about a hundred yards wide at the base, and perhaps
half of that in height. From the summit of this rolls forth
perpetually a volume of smoke, interrupted at intervals of five
or ten minutes by explosions of ashes and red hot stones.
These fall within a limited range on the sides of the cone, so
that it is quite safe to stand, as we did, close to its base. In
order to get a nearer view of these explosions, several of which
of considerable violence took place whilst we were on the spot,
we crossed, carefully following our guides, over the cracked
and heated surface of the intervening field of lava. So hot
was it in many parts that it was quite uncomfortable to the
feet, even causing the soles of our shoes to curl and shrink
under us. In crossing the fissures, a stream of hot sulphur-
ous air rushed up, sufficient to produce speedy suffocation if
closely inhaled. While traversing this space one vividly
and fearfully realizes the awful fact, that the cracked and
hollow-sounding crust you tread on is all that supports you
over the abyss, where but partially slumbers the dread volcano
underneath. I cannot recollect any sensation of my life to
compare with the mysterious dread I felt creep over me when
one of the guides called my attention to an aperture about
afoot in width, under an overhanging block of lava. From
this issued forth a continued jet of living angry flame, accom-
panied by a hollow rumbling sound that seemed to come from
far beneath, as it were the impatient voice of some mighty
power speedily about to burst for itself a freer vent, through
the frail crust that holds it confined. One feels that were
that fiery column extinguished for an instant, the eye might

!I0 ART AND NATURE

explore down its gloomy passage, deep into the wondrous
world of fire beneath ! The very thought made one shudder
and shrink: bade ! Just as we had reached and stationed our-
selves at the base of the volcanic cone, a magnificent explosion
took place. It was preceded, as usual, by a hollow rumbling
sound that seemed to begin far beneath our level, rise rapidly
to the top of the cone, and then burst forth, with a sound often
compared to the firing of artillery, but I should think a much
more apt comparison would be the bursting of an immense
steam-boiler. A short and violent hissing noise succeeds, and
then a vast quantity of red hot stones and ashes are seen pro-
jected into the air, some of the former to the height of three
hundred feet, The projecting force, notwithstanding some
theories to the contrary, is evidently steam, not only from the
appearance of the vapour that accompanies it, but still more
from the shower of hot water which falls around, and the
black muddy substance into which the ashes are formed. Of
this, in fact, in a slimy and smoking state, the surface of the
cone itself is formed. I saw masses of red hot substance
thrown out sufficient apparently to crush one, though it is said
they are much lighter than their size would seem to indicate.
Some travellers are foolhardy enough to ascend to the top,
and look down into the fiery crater, but it is not easy to see
how they can escape being injured by these explosions. The
guide confessed, however, that it could not be done with safety
while we were there, owing to the great frequency of the ex-
plosions. On retracing our steps to the outer verge, we passed
through a remarkable hollow in the lava-crust, where it was
thinner or more porous than elsewhere, for the sulphurous
exhalations were so potent as to produce a sensation of faint-
ness. We were glad to quicken our pace to the outer edge,
and to meet the sweet and wholesome breeze wafted upwards

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 1 1 I

from the lovely plain beneath, and which, laden with a thou-
sand perfumes and sensations of delight, seemed the very
breath of heaven itself welcoming our return from a region of
blackness and horror. And what a contrast was here to the
sights and objects we had been contemplating ! In all its
own peculiar gladness, brilliancy, and golden sunshine, lay
stretched beneath us the most beautiful and glorious pros-
pect that perhaps the world can afford. The blue and
sparkling Mediterranean on the one hand, on the other
that magnificent plain, so well characterized, physically at
least, by its truly Italian appellation — " Gampagna Felice."
Nothing can exceed the varied richness and picturesque
objects of its wide-spreading surface. Stretching far as the
eye can reach, it is interspersed with countless towns and
villages, whose dazzling whiteness contrasts in the most gay
and happy manner with the deep luxuriant evergreen of
the orange groves around them. On several of the hills and
uplands, the woods were still showing the yellow tints of
autumn, and seemed, as it were, to disperse the light of the
sun with a yet mellower and richer radiance through the
atmosphere. How often have we had occasion to remark that
we must indeed see, ere we can conceive, the magic effect of
light and colouring, which in this lovely climate the varying
states of the atmosphere call forth in its landscapes ! In the
immediate foreground lay regal Naples, — the syren city ; her
white arms extended as if to encircle the blue bay that seemed
to sleep in calm loveliness on her bosom. Beyond, the pic-
turesque outline of the coast, sweeping away in soft and
graceful curves round the classic promontories of Puteoli,
Baise, and Misenum, and finally losing itself in the ethereal
haze of distance ; the thousands of vessels of every size and
form, resting like birds of snowy plumage on the water. — all

1 12 ART AND NATURE

combine to form a scene in which detail is impossible, but of
which the delightful impress will long continue deep iu
memory, with a power to soothe and elevate.

Every one knows there is but a step from the sublime to
the ridiculous ; and this every one must have experienced
who has made the usual descent from Vesuvius.

The guides conducted us to a place where there was no
lava or cinders, but only loose sand, in which the feet sank
deep, and which yielded under the step. It is as nearly per-
pendicular as the place of ascent. The manner in which we
set off, by the direction of the guides, who m ust have all done
according to use and wont, was more like the act of casting
one's self headlong from a stupendous precipice than any-
thing else ; yet, in truth, it is the act of wisdom and of some
degree of pleasure too. One has but to throw the feet for-
ward, and the downward impetus of the body does the
remainder of the work. The soft yielding sand completely
breaks the shock. The fresh exhilarating air seems half to
bear you on its wings. The sensation is one something be-
tween skating and flying ; and Avhile strength and breath
endure, decidedly a pleasant one. This is the poetical part of
the proceeding, to those who are actually engaged in this
Basselas-like adventure. But to an onlooker, — the foolish,
frantic, headlong pace — the involuntary, but most lunatic-like
gesticulation of arms and legs — the breezy fluttering of ladies'
dresses, dishevelled hair, and bonnets with cracking strings
straining to be left behind — the giant strides, streaming coat-
tails, and clenched teeth of the sterner sex, — all laughing,
shouting, leaping, and anon precipitated helplessly on each
others' shoulders, forms a picture of the most unmingled
al (surdity.

We arrived — scarcely credible as it seemed on looking

UNDER AN ITALIAN' SKY. ] I .',

upwards — in eight minutes, and in perfect safety, at the
bottom, remounted the patient animals that were dutifully
awaiting our descent, and in a short time regained the Hermi-
tage. Here we took possession of a room small and forlorn
enough certainly for any hermit, spread out the contents of our
provision basket, and made such a meal as our exertions had
well prepared us for. In the cool of the evening, we had a
delicious ride through the groves and vineyards which richly
clothe the lower part of the mountain ; thus closely does the
extreme of fertile beauty rise in strange contrast to that of
dark and savage grandeur. We soon reached Resina, where
having discharged our bargain with Salvatore and his men,
Ave proceeded to the Railway Station, and returned about
nightfall to Naples.

We felt that evening, as we laid our weary limbs to repose,
that we had spent one of the most interesting and memorable
days in our lives ; one teeming with lessons of deep and im-
pressive solemnity, — lessons of the awful power, yet wondrous
grace of Him whose hand has formed alike these objects
of terror and of beauty, whose long-suffering mercy to sinful
man, still spreads the one for his enjoyment, and restrains
the other from his destruction.

BAIjE.

few clays after our expedition to Vesuvius,

we arranged with the R s to visit the

classic haunts of Baia3 and its neighbourhood.
Ungaro furnished us with a comfortable
roomy carriage, and the spirited little horses
took us rapidly along the winding road which
passes by the shores of Posilippo. This drive
has been recently constructed by Government,
principally for the sake of opening up the view from
the different points on the coast. The old road be-
tween Naples and Pozzuoli, and that by which the ordinary
traffic is still conducted, passes through the Grotto of Posi-
lippo, a gigantic tunnel constructed at some unknown period
of antiquity underneath the range of hills which separates
Naples from the country to the north and west. As is usual
in this excursion, we chose the new road in going to Baia?,
intending to return by the Grotto.

The islands of Capri, Nisida, Procida, Ischia — one after
another — came into view like floating clouds of the most
beautiful lilac, resting on an element whose colour and trans-

ART AND NATURE CJNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. L15

parency, in a still bright day scarce distinguish it from the
firmament above. When we reached the heights on the
other side of Posilippo, the whole of the unrivalled Bay of
Naples — the entire circle of its shores, marked by a chain of
interesting objects — lay before us. To the far left, Massa —
Sorrento — Castellamare — the site of Pompeii — Kesina, erected
on the buried Herculanemn — Torre del Grecco — Vesuvius,
rising with its graceful sweep from the rich plains on either
side — white towns and villages clustering round its base —
Naples, with its castles, glittering streets, and gay villas —
Pozzuoli at a little distance, with its deeply interesting asso-
ciations, as the ancient Puteoli where Paul landed after his
long and perilous voyage recorded in Acts. On the right were
Baiee and Misenmn, their bays and promontories rich with the
remains of ancient baths and temples. Truly one could not
wish to look upon a panurama more gorgeous than that which
was spread before us.

At Pozzuoli, we took as guide a very respectable-looking old
man, who had served seven years in the English navy. He
spoke English pretty fluently, and proved very intelligent.
Placing ourselves entirely under his directions, we left the car-
riage at Pozzuoli, and set forward to visit the various objects
in the neighbourhood, taking with us two donkeys to relieve
the fatigue of the rough and difficult paths which led to them.
Shortly after turning off the high-road we came in sight of
Lake Avernus, lying in a secluded spot, and surrounded by
brushwood. The sun's rays scarcely reach the lake, which,
dark and gloomy as it looked in its deep recess, imagination
lent her aid to make us think still more so. It has evidently
been the crater of a long extinct volcano, and with its myste-
rious environs, is supposed to have been Virgil's conception
of the entrance to the infernal regions. The idea one can

i L6 ART AND NATURE

imagine to have been suggested by the death-like stillness of
the lake itself, and the pestilential vapours that are said to
hang around it. From this last characteristic has come the
name Avernus, signifying "without birds/' as the belief once
existed, (though the evidence of our eyes proved it groundless
in the present day at all events,) that birds could not fly
across it, that they dropped down (.lead the moment they came
within the influence of its noisome exhalations.

Passing by its shores we came to the Grotto of the Cuniean
Sybil. Our guides carried lighted torches which glared
luridly in the heavy darkness. One could not conceive a
better preparation for credulous assent to the oracles of the
Sybil, than this subterranean passage to her mysterious
haunts. There was something to me peculiarly horrible as we
groped onwards, in the blackness of darkness, on which the
flaring of the torches made an impression sufficient only to
render it more oppressive, and to cast a pallid hue on the
features of those around. The smell too, is suffocating ; and
right glad were we all to breathe the sweet pure air again.

Mounting our donkeys, S and I led the way along a

narrow footpath, up and down steep declivities, between shrul is
of myrtle, tamarind, arbutus, and lavender, with a fringe of
cyclamen, anterrhhmm, larkspur, and many other gay flowers.
Passing a picturesque little sheet of water, Lake Lucrinus, with
a sunny cheerfid aspect, a pleasing contrast to Avernus, we went
on to Lake Acheron. At one side is the Mare Morto, or fabled
Styx, the situation of which is as confidently pointed out by the
guides, as though they were in the daily practice of conducting
travellers to Charon's ferry. The whole of this neighbourhood
is evidently but a thin crust over volcanic fire. Every now
and then we came upon some rocky fissure, whence issued
misty wreaths of smoke, whilst the air felt oppressive and

QNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. 1 |

heavy. After a regular scramble at the termination of the
path, we came upon the road to Baia3, lying between high
rocks, and revealing one of the loveliest peeps of the bay. To
add to the picture, a party of peasants, driving asses laden
with sticks, met us, — the women wearing the flat scpiare
white handkerchiefs, with which paintings of Italian scenes

make one so familiar. S and I stopped to sketch, and

the women gathered round us, laughing and talking, and
using eveiy means of persuasion to induce us to bestow a few
grant. Flattery, too, Avas administered in large doses, in a
style both novel and annoying, yet withal so shrewd and
absurd, we coidd not long resist them, and laughing truly
more at ourselves than at them — for they at least had gained
their object, we gave them each a trifle and joined our party.
Again were we induced to enter a horrible subterranean
place, though both S^— and I had declared that nothing
should prevail on us to encounter the stifling and other
disagreeable sensations attending a descent into these under-
ground regions, and verily the additional horrors of the " Cento
Camerette," or cells in which the victims of Nero's cruelty
were confined, might well cause us to regret our having
yielded to curiosity or persuasion. To think of human beings
occupying such places, perhaps for months ! How humiliating
it is to witness the atrocious cruelty to which the indulgence
of uncontrolled passions will lead the heart of man ! Our
worthy guide amused us by the indignant surprise he expressed
at our positive refusal to penetrate into the innermost cells,
adding, " Vy you pay de money, den ? vy you no see every-
ting ?" He was, however, better satisfied with our admiration
of the " Piscina Mirabile," near the ruins of the Villa of
Lucullus. It is an enormous reservoir, constructed by Nero
for the supply of water for his fleet when anchored in the

118 ART AND NATURE

bay. It is a perfect labyrinth of pillars, piers, and arches,
and a very slight effort of imagination might well make
one fancy it a rude cathedral under ground. The graceful
celandine forms a carpet of loveliest green, and clothes the
rude arches with festoons, while the cool deep shade was most
refreshing after the broiling heat of the mid-day sun. Leav-
ing the Piscina Mirabile, a few minutes' walk brought us to
the locality of the so-called Elysian Fields, — now a tangled
wilderness, yet elysian certainly, as far as the most exquisite
view could make it so. On this we feasted our eyes, while a
feast of a more substantial kind was being prepared in the
arcade of a neighbouring cottage, in which, sheltered from the
sun, we could inhale the sweet breath of the orange groves
which closed it in on one side. Alas ! what a change awaited
us on passing through the cottage to the outer side, where the
carriage had been sent to meet us. In one moment we were
besieged, and by such a troop as baffles description, from the
grey-haired screeching hag to the lisping urchin, clambering up
the very wheels and sides of the carriage. I gave a biscuit I
had in my hand to a black-eyed rogue, who had succeeded in
gaining the top of the wheel near me, and whose handsome
face and saucy smile proved irresistible. It was the signal for
a general rush on the fortunate possessor, and our ears tingled
with the shout which burst forth as they set upon him,
ready to tear him in pieces. His prize was seized ; but, no-
thing daunted, he was by my side in a second, pointing to his
lost treasure, with a piteous look, yet seemingly sure of again
prevailing. By this time we had the whole remaining con-
tents of the basket ready to scatter amongst them, though I
still contrived to secure a goodly piece for my little rogue.
Adding a few grani, we drove off at full speed, as the only
means of ridding us of their most unpleasant propinquity

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. Ill)

At Baiae we visited the interesting remains of the Temples of
Venus, Mercury, and Diana. Their size is prodigious, and
the beauty of the designs, in that of Mercury especially, is
very great. Between Baia3 and Pozzuoli are Nero's Baths,
underneath the nuns of his Villa. At the eud of long corri-
dors are the boiling springs, the steam from which so heats
the passages that one can scarce advance two steps without
becoming quite breathless. To shew off the boiling power
of the springs, three or four eggs were put into a pail and let
down into the water, and in two minutes they were cooked.

Arrived once more at Pozzuoli, we went to the magnificent
Temple of Jupiter Serapis. Even what remains of this stu-
pendous edifice suffices to shew how vastly it must have sur-
passed in size, beauty, and design almost any building of
modern days. The shafts of the three columns that still
stand are each one solid piece of cipollina, and the pavement,
wherever the sea- water and mud which cover the floor allow
it to be seen, is of the rarest marble. Scarcely were we able
to do justice to all that was worth seeing, for, by the time we
had got through what I have described, we each admitted our
excessive fatigue, and dismissing the guide, gladly took our
seats in the carriage, giving ourselves up to the enjoyment of
a delicious drive.

In silence we watched the glorious sunset, and the short
twilight that followed the sinking of the golden day. For
a brief moment a darker purple deepened on the sky, and
a thousand rose hues slept on the water : another moment of
shade half victorious over light, and then the moon shone
forth in her beauty, and night resumed her reign. It was
late when we passed through the Grotto of Posilippo, but
this only enhanced the wonders of the vast and gloomy pas-
sage, dimly lighted as it is both by day and night, with lamps,

L20 ART AND NATURE UNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY.

at long intervals. The unknown origin of this subterranean
mail greatly helps the imagination in the enjoyment of its
strange and awful impressions ; and as I looked into its
recesses on either hand, and upwards where its lofty roof was
lost in darkness, I felt inclined, with Mr. Beckford, devoutly
to believe it the creation of the mysterious race of the Cim-
mereans !

The Tomb of Virgil, which is upon the rocky eminence
immediately above the entrance of this Grotto, we visited
another day. It is a sweet sequestered spot, and, whether he
was really buried there or not, seems a fitting resting-place
for the great poet. A kind of hanging garden, or more pro-
perly a vineyard, surrounds the tomb ; a little narrow path
leads you zig-zag up the precipice, and when at length you
reach the top, you find bay and chesnut trees hanging over
the ruins of what appears to have been once rather an elabo-
rate monument, though in what style of art little or nothing
remains to tell. Above it is a little terrace, from whence is
one of the best views of Naples. The hum from the busy town
far below falls with a softened murmur on the ear, which
soothes rather than disturbs the musing of the mind. In
coining down we peeped, through a side aperture near the
steps, into the dark gloomy Grotto. The long and solemn
perspective terminates in a mere speck of grey light at the far
end, across which the diminutive figures of human beings,
passing and repassing, seemed like objects seen through an
inverted telescope.

HERCULANEUM.

."<S^° aving, through the kindness of Mr. Temple,
the British representative at the Neapolitan
Court, obtained permission to wander about
the streets of Pompeii without the irksome
attendance of the custode, and so made our-
selves pretty well acquainted with its principal
details, we next wished to see Herculaneum,

and proposed to S R to accompany us

thither. A beautiful day as usual brightening all
L around, we passed through Portici, on our way to Her-
culaneum. Though considerably larger in extent than I had
anticipated, this disentombed city is not at first sight so im-
pressive as Pompeii. But I must confess that when we had
descended the flight of steps, and actually reached the ex-
cavated buildings, the feeling of awe, almost of fear, with
which one looked at the immense walls of lava still holding
fast the remainder of a city of yet unknown dimensions, was
even greater than at Pompeii. There is, it seemed to me, in
Herculaneum, what I was so much struck with the absence of
at Pompeii, an air of gloomy desolation and ruin about the

122 A.RT AND NATUBE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

houses and the streets. They are so partially disclosed, and
seem so shut in by their gloomy barriers, that one finds it
difficult to realize their ever having been inhabited by living,
acting beings like ourselves ; whereas I often felt at Pompeii,
as though I was intruding into the midst of domestic circles, or
scenes of actual business and pleasure. The most remarkable
part of Herculaneum is the theatre : it was in this spot that
the well was sunk which led to the discovery of the city more
than a century ago. With a sensation of mysterious awe, we
commenced the descent into this still buried theatre. By the
light of many torches we proceeded down the flight of steps
which brought us at last into some of the uppermost galleries
around the building. Still descending, we reached the con-
sular seats, the orchestra, and the stage. It was strange to
know one's self eighty-seven feet below the surface of the
ground, and yet in the very midst of a place which once was
filled with the sun's bright rays, where once were heard the
sounds of music and of mirth, where thousands were assem-
bled amid those glorious works of art which are now deemed
unrivalled ! Magnificent statues and bronzes were found here
and removed to the Museum. The noble equestrian statues
of the Balbi family were taken from the niches around this
very theatre. Certainly I returned from those dark subterra-
nean memorials of the past, with a yet more fearful idea of
the terrific devastation wrought by the mountain than any-
thing else had given me.

CASTELLAMARE AND SORRENTO.

%k love to dwell on the remembrance of the
' .' pleasant excursion, shared with onr dear
friends, to Castellamare and Sorrento. No-
thing enhances more the enjoyment of such
expeditions than the companionship of those
we love, and who are ready to enter into and
share all our feelings.

The morning was somewhat grey and uncer-
) tain, but became more promising by the time we
reached Castellamare. At the Railway Station we
found the usual tormenting assemblage of ragged urchins,
who insisted on snatching up every portable article, even
attempting to seize on sketch-books and maps, too precious
to be entrusted to such hands, in the hope of obtaining
some " grani," assuring us they would " mangiar maccaroni."
As we had no doubt of their powers in that line, we did not
test them, and selecting a tolerably decent looking carnage
with three capital horses, we jumped in and escaped from
the garlic-scented mob around !

The situation of Castellamare is charming, — built along the

124 ART AND NATURE

shore at the foot of richly-wooded hills. Th< >se villas embowered
amid groves on the terraces above the town must be deli-
cious retreats for repose and coolness, in the summer months,
from the shadeless streets of Naples. So lowly was the view
of a projecting promontory, so soft and glowing the light
upon the water, so tempting the picturesque combination of
lateen-sailed boats, groups of peasants, in short of everything
to be desired in a characteristic sketch, that we prevailed on
the gentlemen to allow us a few minutes in which to take a
sketch, which might recall each feature of that sunlit scene.

The little town of Vico is boldly situated on the verge of
lofty cliffs overhanging the sea. Passing it, the road shortly
afterwards winds down the side of a vast ravine opening to
the Bay. The torrent which rushes at the bottom of it, is
spanned by a lofty bridge with a double tier of arches, one
above the other. Oh reaching the level on the opposite side,
we found ourselves on the verge of that large plain called the
" Piano di Sorrento," famed, both in ancient and modern
times, for its teeming fruitfulness. It is bounded on the
north and east by an amphitheatre of sheltering mountains,
and opens, to the sunny south and west, upon the sea ; yet,
unlike most plains so situated, it is far above the sea-level,
terminating abruptly in a line of rocky precipice all along the
coast. The long heaving swell, which in the calmest weather
is never absent from these shores, breaking upon the bold
rocks, and rushing impetuously into their numberless inden-
tations, occasions continually a streak of white and sparkling
foam, which, floating a little way out from the rocks in an
unbroken line, has a most singular appearance from a dis-
tance. There was one peculiar feature of this favoured plain
which at once struck us, — the extent and richness of the
orange and lemon groves : their abundant produce in every

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. | J.",

stage of progress, from the fragrant blossom to the golden
fruit. Turn where you will, their dark and glossy foliage
meets the eye in every enclosure, overhanging every wall
filling every crevice. In the higher parts and more open
spaces, they contrast well with the vine, olive, walnut, pome-
granate, chesnut, and acacia ; while here and there — not the
least pleasing objects amid the luxuriant offspring of this
fruitful soil, were to be seen noble specimens of the oak of
Old England, thrusting forth their gnarled limbs in strong
and sturdy independence, and suggesting thoughts of home
and friends amid a land of strangers. And now that I have
dwelt on the loveliness cast in rich profusion by the hand of
Nature all around, I must mention the grievous disappoint-
ment one feels on approaching Sorrento, and passing through
the finest part of the Piano. One drives in the midst of such
beauties for miles, with scarce a glimpse of them ! The way
lies along deep sunk lanes, with walls on either side, so close
as scarcely to admit of two carriages passing, and never less
than seven or eight, and often twelve or fourteen feet high.
Damp, dark, and dismal are these provoking walls, green
with slimy weeds, suggesting the idea of long dreary passages
to a cellar. Neither is this only here and there ; but in every
direction the Piano is intersected with these abominable lanes,,
to the total discomfiture of the traveller's view, temper, and
enjoyment. Nor can the sojourner in this neighbourhood
appreciate its delights, save by escaping from it to the moun-
tains on the one hand, or the sea-shore on the other.

In the " Hotel des Sirenes," which Ungaro recommended
to us, we forgot our disappointment. It stands in one of the
large orange groves, surrounded with roses and gay flowers,
and quite overhanging the sea at a considerable height above
it. Our rooms were cheerful and pretty : the whole expanse of

L26 AKT AND NATURE

sea and land, on either side, lay before us, and the deep sea
dashed upon the rocks directly below the balcony on which we
stood. As soon as we had arranged matters in the hotel, and
ordered dinner to be ready on our return, we mounted donkeys
and ponies, and set off upon an excursion to St. Agata, in the
mountains. The ponies were remarkably handsome spirited
little things, especially one which the guides called Zucche-

rine. A lady's saddle having been put on him, S and I

determined to ride by turns. It would have astonished some
of our good friends at home, could they have seen us rushing
full speed up a long flight of stone steps. The pace was a
succession of short leaps rather than a gallop ; a most peculiar
motion, but on the active little animal I rode, not unpleasant.
"We laughed right merrily as we dashed recklessly on, the
guides shouting as they kept close behind. Stopping a good
way up this extraordinary bridlepath, we dismounted to go in
search of a certain point of view which lay a little to the
right. A few hundred yards brought us to the top of a wild
breezy hill, and the prospect which greeted us was magnifi-
cent. The day became again overcast, but as rain was not
anticipated, we continued our route to St. Agata. On re-
turning to the steeds, S took her turn to mount Zucche-

rine, while I got upon her donkey. Away we went on a road
that seemed by no means smooth or easy, until one learned

to think it so by contrast. In a few minutes Mr. E ,

who was first, was directed to turn to the right, up a place
which, even after our past experience, seemed perfectly inac-
cessible. Such sliding, such scrambling commenced, and yet
upwards we certainly progressed ! And now our path lay in
the narrow bed of a mountain torrent, at this season dried

up, where Mr. R adopted the wise precaution of taking

his feet out of the stirrups. Scarcely had he done so before

ONDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. L27

it became evident that our donkeys considered themselves in
the light of tins torrent, or at least as its fair-weather substi-
tute, for down they lay ! This might be agreeable to them,
but certainly by no means so to their riders. Joking apart,

both Mr. K and I were at one time in danger of being

seriously hurt ; and had he not previously drawn up his feet,
they must have been crushed against the sharp jagged rocks.
As it was, I did not altogether escape, my donkey's reclining
propensity occasioning me a sprained ankle, though fortu-
nately the damage was but slight. The guides persuaded us
to mount again, but the first step brought my stupid animal
to the ground ; so it was agreed to trust to our own powers

of climbing, W and S continuing the ascent with

the sure-footed ponies. We learned afterwards, indeed, that
it is not safe to take donkeys into these steep places, as they
have not strength or suppleness sufficient to drag themselves
and their riders up. Certainly, after our experience, it was
rather amusing to recall the epithet of the master of the hotel
when we inquired about what steeds he had, " Ah ! des
superbcs anes ! " After all, we were little repaid for this last
toilsome part of the way ; a heavy black cloud obscured the
view, and the wind became piercingly cold at the height we
had reached.

We hastened to descend, but before much of the way had
been accomplished, a storm of heavy rain came on. We took
shelter in a house in the village of St. Agata. A civil woman
gave us the best room she had, presenting us with oranges
for our refreshment, and we amused ourselves with watching
the process of silk-spinning in which she was engaged. The
rain ceased ere long, and we set forth ; the paths were very
steep and slippery, so that most of the party walked, occa-
sionally enjoying for variety a good tumble down. As soon

L28 A.RT AM> NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

as it was sate to do so, I got on little Zuccherine, who took me
down famously, stepping down the stairs as cautiously as
though he knew all about it, and wished to shew his biped
miii] (anions how they should proceed.

A most pleasant evening closed the day. S and I

completed several sketches, and then we drew round a wood-
fire, which cheerily blazed on the hearth, and many a tale
was told ere we were willing to allow that repose was needful
after the fatigues of the day.

The weather was dull and cloudy in the morning, so we
started early on our return to Naples. A heavy rain came
on within an hour, accompanying us all the way, and pre-
venting the possibility of seeing anything more. We there-
f< >re got into the first railway train at Castellamare, reaching
Naples early in the afternoon.

LAGO D'AGNANO AND THE SOLFATARA.

e assembled on New Year's Day — and as bright
and glorious a one as ever shone — a little
party, in excellent spirits, for an expedition
to the Lago d'Agnano and the Solfatara.

Mrs. C kindly lent us her carriage, her

son accompanying us, and Mr. D , a clerical

friend of W 's. The beautiful road to Baias

was familiar to us all ; but ere long we turned
off, and soon found ourselves at the Lago d'Agnano.
The little sheet of water is circled with low swelling
hills, thickly covered with brushwood. On the side of one of
these hills are the remains of a villa, which belonged to
Lucullus, who connected this lake with the sea by a canal still
traceable, making the lake a reservoir for fish. We did not
explore the ruins of the villa, being (alas for antiquarian
taste !) more curious to see the Grotto del Cane, the account
of whose wonders ranks among the recollections of my earliest
literary acquisitions. In the same thick red book, whose
pages were adorned with a picture of the leaning Tower of
Pisa, was another, representing the mysterious Grotto del

130 ART AND NATURE

■. At the entrance, I recollect there is also depicted a
man holding the stiffened form of a wretched dog, looking
like a drowned cat. Such as it was. however, it made a vivid
impression on my imagination. The reality is a miserable
hole shut in with a wooden door. Two very flourishing dogs
accompanied the man who shews it. to the door; hut not even
the picture in the red book coidd overcome my distaste to the
proposed exhibition, viz., rendering the poor animals insensible
by forcing them to inhale a noxious gas. I must own the dogs
seemed positively disappointed by our tenderness, which was
explained by the fact, that when all is over they are fed with
some dainty, by way of satisfaction to their injured feelings !
We, however, saw lighted torches in an instant extinguished
on being plunged into the heavy gas, which lies in a stratum
not more than eighteen inches deep upon the floor of the
little cave. The smoke rested upon the invisible gas, as upon
water, producing an extraordinary effect. From this Grotto
we were taken to another close by. The man asked me if
1 would have a glass of champagne. Though of course sus-
pecting a joke, I assented; and stooping down as directed,
and gently waving my hand towards my face, immediately
felt a sharp stimulating sensation in my mouth and throat,
exactly like the effect of drinking a glass of effervescing
liquid. The guide then made me descend still lower and
re} >eat the same motion, which I did, but too quickly, and
the consequence was the exquisitely painful sensation pro-
duced by smelling sal ammoniac, from which it in reality here
proceeds.

Having seen everything worthy of notice, we returned to
the carriage, and passing through a wild pretty lane, reached
again the high road to Baiaa. At Pozzuoli, we engaged the
servdc.es of a civil looking man. and a sensible looking donkey,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 131

and set off for the Solfatara. I can scarcely say what 1 had
expected to find at this place, but certainly nothing so strange,
I may almost say awful, as the reality. Avast hollow crater,
its sides here and there decked with low brushwood, but else-
where bare and almost ghastly, yawned before ns. The sur-
face of the ground was everywhere thickly strewed with the
debris of pumice-stone, and yellow with crystallized sulphur.
When we had passed about half way across the interior of
the crater, a hollow sound, somewhat resembling the explo-
sion of a subterranean mine, arrested our steps. The earth
sensibly trembled beneath our feet, and I must confess my
feelings were not of wonder only, when the guide pointed out
a lad at a little distance who was throwing down a heavy
stone with all his might, from which simple act proceeded
this tremendous result. It did indeed enable us to realize
the dreadful abyss below, over which this crust of sulphuric
lava alone supported us. A few feet from where we stood,
an aperture was visible, from whence volumes of light vapoury
smoke issued ; and a piece of paper, attached to a rod, which

J C thrust a little way into it, was drawn out in

flames. All around this spot the ground was quite sensibly
hot to the feet. It was strange to observe the effect of the
sun's rays on the crystallized sulphur which covered every
object. At a distance the universal yellow colour was
ghastly, but on a nearer approach, each little yellow stone,
stunted shrub, and bare rock, were changed as by a fairy
touch, into sparkling beauty, reflecting a thousand prismatic
hues, and relieving by this magic splendour much of the

associated terror of the place. J C and the guide

diligently employed themselves in collecting for us specimens
of these sulphurs, formed on loose pieces of lava, of every
variety of colour ; but, " like the snow-flake on the river,

132 ART AND NATURE

one moment seen, then gone for ever," we had little more
than time to admire their sparkling radiance, ere it had
vanished. Some few, however, which we took home, retained
the crystals in a slight degree.

This nearly extinguished crater is called the " Pulse of
Vesuvius ;" and though twelve or fifteen miles' distant, is
supposed to he connected with the latter in its action. Com-
mon report says, that when the Solfatara shewrs its ordinary
signs of life, Vesuvius may he considered quiescent ; hut that
when these cease, the mountain may he considered dangerous.
This volcano is also thought to have heen active hefore any
such appearance had heen observed in Vesuvius. Whether
this he the case or not it is difficult to say, as there does not
seem any sufficient ground for fixing the comparative date of
either, if we except what the guides told us, viz., that some
late excavations in the neighbourhood of the Solfatara have
brought to light relics which are ascribed to an era more
remote than any connected with discoveries in these parts ;
while some believe that there is good ground for the assertion,
that a city, unknown even by name, is still lying buried within
the once fatal range of the Solfatara.

1 have dwelt more upon the natural beauties of Naples and
its environs than upon the works of art ; for though not
devoid of the latter, assuredly to the stranger the former are
more striking and attractive. With the churches in Naples
I was generally greatly disappointed, — gaudy finery and bad
taste being their distinguishing features; Avhile the ceremo-
nies of the Church, as observed there, seem to me to be
devoid of even the semblance of devotion. I cannot conceive
any human being finding even outward attraction in any of
them. For instance, on the most solemn occasion of Neapo-

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. L33

litau observance, the liquefying of the blood of St. Gennaro,
as far as we could ascertain, nothing but the most absurd
charlatanry was exhibited. Finding that he could not wit-
ness this famous ceremony without in appearance joining

with the admiring crowd who knelt around, W would

not gratify his curiosity; but we heard enough from a gentle-
man who had been present, to make us doubt whether even
the priests themselves are self-deceived ; while the deluded
people, though professing great anxiety to obtain this mark
of the approbation, or continued protection, of their patron
saint, were yet jabbering, laughing, and grimacing, among
themselves, without anything like seriousness.

Many of the priests here seem to be from the ranks of the
common people, and to be regarded with little reverence. In
short, as far as our very slight opportunities of judging may
enable us to form an opinion, I should say that the Neapoli-
tans of the lower classes have, from some reason or other,
very little respect indeed either for their priests or their
Church.

But to pass from a subject on which I admit myself to be
little competent to enter, let me notice a few works of ait in
Naples, which, whatever the outdoor attractions of this bright
region, cannot be passed over by any who appreciate the pro-
ductions of genius.

In the Capella di St. Severo, a small chapel attached to
one of the palaces near the Toledo, are three pieces of sculp-
ture of a remarkable character. The first is a statue of
Modesty, by Corradini, veiled from head to foot, while yet
the fair and feminine features are distinctly visible through
the gauzelike texture of the veil : it is not only curious as a
work of art, but beautiful in itself. The second is termed
" Vice undeceived." The idea is represented by the figure of

L3 I ART AND NATURE

a man struggling in the meshes of a strong net, in which he
seems hopelessly entangled, Imt from which he is endeavour-
ing to free himself by the aid of the Genius of Good Sense, a
female figure standing near him. The third is alike peculiar,
and much more affecting : a figure of our Lord extended on
a bier, covered with a linen cloth, through which the features,
stamped with the impress of death, are plainly revealed.
The sculptor was San Martino.

I almost regret not having written down some impressions
of what I saw in the Museum, to which I made many visits.
often of hours at a time ; but it seemed so far beyond my
powers to do justice to the numberless objects of interest
there assembled, that I foolishly left it wholly undone. And
now that I have seen it for the last time, I am compelled
hastily to jot down the names of some three or four, which
after all, are precisely those I am least likely to forget. In
the second division of the Gallery of Sculpture are the famous
equestrian statues of the Balbi family, brought from the
Theatre of Herculaneum ; but noble as they are, they excited
in me none of the deep interest called forth as I stood before
the half reclining figure of Agrippina, the mother of Nero.
The deep nerveless despair expressed in every line of that
form, as well as in the lineaments of the face, is a master-
piece of sculpture. It moves one with the very pathos
of a picture ; nay, few are the paintings which could even
equal the power of such sculpture as this. I could fancy that
stern Roman matron to have just learnt the cruel decree of
her unnatural son, — her knowledge of his ferocious nature
causing her at once to feel that her doom was sealed ; — while
dim and afar off she sees the hour when he lay a helpless
infant in her arms ! It matters not that one has had but
little sympathy with that woman's life and history. She is

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 135

there a mother with a mother's anguish, condemned to die
by the son whom she bore !

Among the busts is an Aristides, which I thought one of
the finest in the gallery. The Venus of Praxiteles, the rival
of the Medici, is unquestionably very beautiful, yet I hope I
shall admire more the Venus at Florence, or I shall not be
fully satisfied. The far-famed Toro Farnese is a splendid
colossal group ; but though I would not underrate it by any
means, it is not of the kind I much admire. Even in this
cursory glance, I must not pass by the exquisite collection of
bronzes, Etruscan vases, and miscellaneous treasures brought
from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Days might well be spent
among them: the classic forms of many, even of the com-
monest articles in domestic use, seem to tell of a time when
taste, and the perception of the beautiful, more generally
embued men's minds than now. The lamps especially I
admired exceedingly. But I must not linger even in this
most fascinating portion of the galleries ; neither among those
bracelets, rings, and brooches, which shewed the fair Pom-
peians to have been as fully possessed by the female love of
jewels and ornaments as any lady of the nineteenth century,
with the advantage — shall I venture to say it ? — of a purer
taste !

In the picture department, which, as a collection, is a
secondary one, I was pleased with a portrait of Christopher
Columbus, by Parmegiano. The eye is clear and penetrat-
ing, the brow calm and thoughtful, the whole face in keep-
ing with the character drawn by the hand of Washington
Irving, in which the touching details of the long-tried patience
and many misfortunes of this noble man excite the deepest
interest in all connected with him.

The two Corregffios, the Madonna di Coniglia, and tin-

136 ART AMi NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

Marriage of St. Catherine, are well known. Domenichino's
" Angelo Custode" is a lovely subject, well treated. The
Madonna and Infant Saviour, one of Raphael's early paint-
ings, is full of the tender softness and purity for which his
earliest style is so remarkable. The St. John, by Leonardo
da Vinci, completes the number of the pictures which parti-
cularly interested me.

P^ESTUM.

f xe of the objects of deepest interest to me has
X long been the beautiful ruins of Passtum.
Many obstacles came in the way, and I had

;>■

r ,,( almost given up the hope of ever seeing them,
when, quite unexpectedly, an opportunity
offered for my accompanying some friends thither.
The day dawned bright and beautiful, and shortly
after eight o'clock we proceeded to the railway.
As far as "Pompeii, the country through which we
"Jv passed was familiar, but from thence to Nocera was
new. At Nocera we left the railway, and engaged a carnage
to take us to Salerno, and next day to Paestum. The town of
Nocera, formerly Nuceria, is very ancient. It was destroyed
by Hannibal, and partially rebuilt not long after. From
thence to La Cava the country is very rich and beautiful.
La Cava is a quaint old town, situated among hanging woods,
and deep ravines, encircled with mountains of every form and
outline. The glimpses of the deep blue sea here and there,
prepared one for the glorious scene which bursts upon the eye
when the full view of the Bay of Salerno is revealed. It

138 ART AND NATURE

was a lovely evening. The distant outlines stood clear and
distinct against the brilliant hues of sunset: sky, earth, and
sea flushed with the richest rose colour, which gradually
softened and darkened into that peculiar deep lilac which is
so lovely. "Bella Italia!'' how utterly does every attempt
to describe thee fail! Nothing hut memory can give back
even for a moment those scenes of loveliness.

The evening passed quickly away at the Vittoria Hotel, in
Salerno, and I completed several of my sketches. I was com-
missioned to arouse the party next morning, as we proposed
starting very early. There certainly was little fear of my
neglecting this, as I was far too much on the qui vive, and
too full of anticipation to sleep soundly. The morning was
fresh and clear, and we were in the carriage by five o'clock.
I was surprised, as daylight dawned, to see the fine scenery
through which we were passing, having always imagined the
only attraction of Paestum to he the Temples. But the chain
of mountains, the wooded slopes, and picturesque clumps of
trees in the plains would have been beautiful anywhere. By
nine o'clock we reached the Silarius, a rapid stream, which we
had to cross by a most primitive kind of ferry, and very soon
were near enough to catch a view of the Temples. I had
heard so much of the beauty of the first sight of them from
the sea, that I expected the same from the road, and must
confess I thought it less imposing than imagination had pic-
tured; probably from the flatness of the plain, and the
luxuriance of the brushwood with which it is overgrown.
But if compelled for a passing moment to own that the
reality had fallen short of anticipation, I was perhaps all the
more impressed when we actually arrived, and they stood
before us in their majestic beauty. The nearest to the road,
and the smallest of the Temples, is that of Ceres, supposed to

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 139

be of somewhat later (late than the others. The Temple of
Neptune and the Basilica are at some distance, and stand
close together. The walls of the ancient city can easily lie
traced by the fragments of them still remaining. Besides evi-
dent vestiges of a theatre or amphitheatre, there are several
other portions of ruined buildings belonging to an equally
remote age. One gateway is standing, — a noble arch of
massive stone. On the keystone a female figure is distinctly
visible, holding a rose.

What a panorama of interest and beauty is before you on
entering the plain itself! The exquisite proportions of the
Temples, the rich warm tints which the hand of Time has
stamped upon them, as they stand out in bold relief against
the clear sky ; the blue sea in the distance, and the chain of
mountains almost as blue — the same sea, the same mountains
that looked on them in their early beauty, still adding charms
to the venerable majesty of their decay. The scene itself,
with the strange wild figures that cluster in groups around,
clad in their undressed buffalo skins, — is all so wild and
striking, it scarcely needs the yet deeper interest of the most
remote antiquity and classic associations. The solitary still-
ness which reigns around is entirely in keeping with all this,
and I mentally resolved, coute qui coute, to secure as much
as possible the enjoyment of it.

As we left the carriage, we were as usual followed by a
whole troop of men, women, and children,— all whining.
begging, and howling, — till I was fairly distracted. In vain
I appealed to my companions, — could nothing be done ?
Patience was the remedy suggested, and truly it was greatly
needed. However, I resolved on trying some more active
measure, and, stopping abruptly, mustered my worst Italian
and best Neapolitan, and in a decided voice announced to the

140 ART AND NATURE

rabble, that not one who advanced a single step farther, ur
uttered another word, should have anything — not a scrap from
our basket — " non un grano." The effect was electrical.
There was a pause : and I will not say that my heart did not
beat cpiicker as I met the flashing eyes of those wild-looking
men, some of them probably but lately bandits ; but I steadily
repeated my declaration, adding, that if they would quietly
go away now, they should, all have something before our de-
parture. Just as one has seen a herd of deer turn rapidly
round and run off, stopping at some distance to take a look,
so the whole troop took themselves off, leaving us in peace.
I was not a little pleased at my success, on which my compa-
nions also cordially congratulated me.

Taking my sketch-book, I left the rest of the party, and
intensely did I enjoy that solitary ramble. Sitting down
on a broken marble pedestal, I amused myself with creating
in my mind pictures of the past.

I doubt not that every one who has spent an hour in these
deserted plains has felt an influence on the mind, leading
it to dream of bygone ages, and insensibly to mingle the
objects on which the eye now rests, with associations of times
and beings that once gave them life. As I sat there — with
the tangled brake and untrained vine around — I saw the fair
city witli its palaces, the fallen altars raised, the streets busy ;
the occupation — the familiar scenes of life — enlivening the
now silent solitude. But even when brightest, a dark shadow
passes over the pictured scene — the shadow of the tomb ! —
filling the mind with awe, as it realizes the millions and
millions of human beings, who, since the creation of these
mighty Temples, have passed away, and are to us as though
they had never been. Generation after generation has come
and gone — mingled with the dust, — and yet each rolling age

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 141

as it passed onwards, has left these Temples even as it found
them ! Visited in the days of Caesar Augustus for their
wonderful antiquity, there they stand in their stern and
solitary brotherhood unscathed by Time — alone defying that
power which has triumphed over all beside : sole links, as it
were, with ages so entirely passed away, as to have left no
other trace behind ! How forcibly do the words of Scripture
come to remembrance, "As for man his days are like the
grass : as a flower of the field so he flourisheth ; for the wind
passeth over it and it is gone, and the place thereof knoweth
it no more for ever."

Very unwillingly I was at length obliged to obey a summons
to partake of the contents of our basket, which I found spread
out on the green turf, within the Temple of Neptune ; our
seats were some of the broken pedestals which lay around !
Having finished our repast in this memorable banquet-hall,
we summoned the whole troop of beggars from about the little
hostelry, and divided among them the remaining contents of
the basket. How I longed to be able to sketch the group as
they crowded round us ! What pictures they would have
made, with their fine guerilla faces, large flashing eyes, dark
brown limbs and picturesque dress. The women were for the
most part very striking in appearance ; their eyes generally
superb ; the short skirts of their dresses hung in tatters to the
knee ; and all had either white or scarlet handkerchiefs put
square upon the head, from underneath which their long
hair appeared, bound in smooth braids or gathered in knots
behind.

While standing not far from the Temple, a delicious fra-
grance was borne to me on the breeze, whence proceeding I
knew not ; but ere long, as I was crossing a part of the plain
off the more beaten track, I came to such a quantity of

14-2 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

violets, so purely, darkly Line, that their reflected hue was
shed all around, — reminding me of a scene in my childhood,
far away indeed, yet brought hack with strange distinctness

at that moment — the woods at Stoke Park, the swelling-
hanks of Barn Wood in spring, when the deep blue of the
wild hyacinth cast a mantle of the loveliest colour all around.
ISever, since the time I last looked on these, have I beheld
anything like this spot in the plains of PaBStum, How little
I then dreamed of the scene that would next recall those
woods with all their associations to my mind !

I was so fortunate as to discover, whilst taking up a root
I wished to carry away with me, a small terra-cotta head — a
bona fide antique — which I shall ever greatly prize.

The hour for our departure came but too soon. The
carriage was again surrounded by the eager claimants of our
promised reward, and we drove off, showering among them
handfuls of the small coins with which we were purposely
provided. I stood up in the carriage and watched the Temples
as they became more and more indistinct ; and vividly will
their remembrance live in my memory long, long after I shall
have left the land where they are.

Our homeward drive was lighted by the crimson hues of the
evening sky, and one of the most glorious sunsets I have yet
seen. We reached the Yittoria, in Salerno, soon after eight
o'clock, and retired early to rest, to fit ourselves for next
day's excursion to Amalfi.

AMALFI.

i gain the sun shone brightly upon us as we
•• rode through the streets of Salerno, and
wound our way along a narrow footpath cut
jT in the face of almost perpendicular cliffs.
It was now and then precipitous enough to
make me feel giddy, and I was at times obliged to
look away, and leave my mule to its own devices.
Every feeling of awe, however, is completely re-
lieved by the soft and witching beauty of earth and
sky, which there, and on that delicious day, blended
together so as to form a scene such as the most creative and
poetic imagination must actually behold ere it can conceive.

What principally distinguishes the Bay of Salerno from
that of Naples, of which it is the acknowledged rival, is, that
instead of the sloping shores, innumerable indentations, and
softly sweeping promontories of the latter, Salerno is one grand,
almost unbroken circle, of which the background nearly of
the whole circuit is the maritime branch of the gigantic
Apennines, whose sunny peaks in the far inland, tower in
dazzling relief into the clear blue ether, as distinct and sharp

144 ART AND NATURE

in outline as if within half a mile. Their nearer branches
come down abruptly upon the sea, and circle round the calm
sleeping waters of this lovely bay, with a barrier of volcanic
el ill's of the most fantastic forms. They give one the idea of
detached mountains lifted from their bases, and piled one
against another ; so that one feels in looking at them, how
easily the absurdity of the ancient fable may be pardoned, of
the giants piling up rocks to scale the heavens, of which this
region is the fancied scene. And yet over all this grandeur
and sublimity there is ever a subdued and pearly softness
that wins the heart to love and feel, as well as to admire these
works of God. There is ever that magical effect — that charm
peculiar to these shores — the colouring of mere light and
atmosphere, which seems to throw a veil of almost spiritual
beauty over every feature of the landscape. One does not see
how this effect is produced, what there is in the ordinary
elements of land, air, or water to produce them ; but the
effect is there, enchanting every sense : seen upon the bosom
of an ocean, whose blue vies with the profoundest depths of
heaven's vault above ; reflected from mountains and plains,
whose surface gives back each varying shade of light with the
truth and poetry of nature ; felt in the gentle breeze which
fans the cheek with a downy wing, gladdens the heart, and
makes one feel what happiness it may be even to live and
breathe. There are seasons, indeed days, and hours of the day,
when such effects of this favoured climate are more especially
visible ; but even in the depth of winter they are rarely and
but briefly absent. You look up into the sky, and seldom
can you connect the idea of cold and storm with such a flood
of light and brilliancy. You look around upon the landscape,
and though nothing may be seen but masses of flinty rock in
one direction, a sandy beech or swampy plain in another, or

UNDEli AN ITALIAN SKY. NO

a world of water in a third, yet neither barrenness nor mono-
tony is suggested by them : of barrenness truly no part of
nature can here be accused. Wherever a handful of earth has
fallen on a shelf of rock, there something rich and luxuriant
will be found to flourish. The fertility of the soil throughout
this region is marvellous. The fields of the husbandman are
literally, as their own poetic idea has expressed it, " ploughed
by the sunbeams." In many parts they have but to cast in
the seed, plant the vine and the orange tree, and without
farther care or culture, the bountiful earth returns them a
thousandfold. Indeed there seems nothing to cheek Nature
in such a climate but exertions so profuse that they may
well call for the rest which yet she scarcely seems to need.
How difficult was it for us, accustomed to the stormy skies
and melancholy climate of a northern winter, to realize a
day of January in that grateful sunshine, balmy air, and
lively landscape, bathed in light as rich and mellow as the
best and brightest of England's summer ! This difficulty was
not lessened by a profusion of violets, primroses, and lovely
wild-flowers blooming all around, with gay and brilliant
butterflies hovering over them, as if no paralyzing breath
of winter might here be feared to cut short their holiday
existence.

We reached Amain in time to visit the Grotto of the
Capuchins, and other places of interest, returning to the small
locanda, called " La Luna," to dinner. It was a beautiful
moonlight evening, and we closed the day with a delicious
stroll on the sea-shore, beneath the silvery light of the moon.
The next morning proved that even here sudden changes in
the weather may lie felt ; and we had to cross the mountains
in a mist so thick we could scarcely see each other's mules,
until we began to descend on the other side. Now and then

146 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

we came upon little hamlets beautifully situated; and many
of them with pretty fountains, around which, as the day
cleared, were grouped both men and women, chatting and
laughing as they filled their classic-shaped water-vessels.
Many of the young girls struck me as particularly graceful,
their dark hair rolled up like that of some antique statue, or
wound in rich plaits around the head. And then again, their
strange costume: the scarlet petticoat scarcely reaching to the
knee, and a snowy white or bright blue loose jacket. Alto-
gether the women, in this mountain district, realized more
my preconceived idea of Italian grace and beauty than any
peasantry I have yet seen in Italy. The descent, as we pro-
ceeded, became tremendously steep, so much so as to make
it a matter of some difficulty to keep one's seat, and to occasi* >n
many a nervous shudder as the sharp turns caused us epiite
to < tverhang the precipitous sides. We performed it in safety,
however, and without one false step of the surefooted animals
we rode, — reaching Xocera in time for the evening train to
Naples.

SECOND ASCENT OF VESUVIUS.

esuvius has continued to us an object of
undiminished interest throughout our whole
residence in Naples ; and although we had
already accomplished one expedition to its
summit, yet as its energies were then in an
almost quiescent state, we felt by no means satis-
fied, and often listened with wondering, and some-
what envious interest to the accounts of those who
had been on the spot and seen its slumbering terrors
fully awakened. Most ardently did we long to witness
at least something that might help to realize our idea of an
eruption, — and fortunate indeed were we in being at length
gratified.

For some weeks past, various reports and prognostications
had been afloat of a coming eruption. The mountain had
been giving some of its usual symptoms of inquietude, such
as an increased density of smoke from the crater, and occa-
sionally an increased violence in its ejections, making the dark
vapour to shoot up in the form of a pillar, until the colder
atmosphere, pressing it from above, caused it to spread out in

148 ART AND NATURE

the well-known form of a pine tree. Then also, rumbling
noises had been heard internally, and some of the wells in the
neighbourhood of Resina were said to have dried up, as is
generally the case immediately before the breaking out of the
vt ilcano. It may well be supposed then that we were eagerly
On the watch for further movements, and fully on the alert,
when told, that on Saturday, 31st January, a stream of lava
had burst forth on the side next Naples, making its way over
the edge and down the pinnacle of the mountain. No time
was to be lost in communicating with our friends, and
arranging a party for the following Monday. Our plan was
to start in time to reach the summit with daylight, and
remain till the darkness of night should come on to lend
additional grandeur to the scene. The morning of Monday
did not promise what is usually considered a propitious day
for visiting Vesuvius, — that is, the horizon was enveloped in a
misty veil, greatly interrupting the view, while the top of the
mountain itself was invisible from a thick fog which hung
upon it. Our impatience, however, brooked not delay from
such a cause, especially as we went not at all for the sake of
the distant prospect, which we had previously enjoyed, but to
pay our devoirs solely to the volcano itself. As the event
proved, we had no reason to regret the lowering sky and
gloomy weather.

Our party consisted of six in all, and, for the sake of a
better view of the country, the fresh air, and the enjoyment

of the thing, we all preferred the outside of Sir J 0 ;s

capacious carriage and four ; arriving at Resina after a plea-
sant drive about half-past twelve. From thence we started
in half an hour, following the same arrangement as on our
previous expedition, and taking the bridle-path to the Her-
mitage through the vineyards, as being; shorter and more

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 149

picturesque than the winding carriage-road. When we had
proceeded some way, the guides drew our attention to the
smoke rising from the descending lava, which had already
come down so far as to be visible below the skirts of the
vapoury mantle of cloud which continued to envelop the
upper part of the mountain. In looking towards this, we
observed a movement among the loose fragments of scoriaa
upon the sides of the steep above us, and a vapour-like smoke,
quite distinguishable from the mist around ; but at that dis-
tance all was indistinct, and little prepared us for what it was
to be on nearer inspection.

Leaving our animals, as before, upon the level platform
above the Hermitage, to which has been given the name of
" Sala di Cavalli," we started amid the good-humoured cheers
of the guides, on our toilsome way. About a fifth of our
ascent from this point had been accomplished, when, on
pausing and looking upwards, we could very plainly both hear
and see the slow downward progress of a body of lava, hissing
and rattling among the loose cinders, as it overwhelmed or
dislodged them, and occasionally sending huge pieces bound-
ing down the steep declivity in a way that endangered not a
little those below. Soon afterwards we came opposite the
lower end of this smoking stream, and approached cautiously
to obtain a nearer view of it. Even here it was of a glowing-
red heat upon the surface, though often so covered over with
floating cinders and enveloped in smoke, that the actual deep
red of the fire was obscured. On looking to the summit, we
could see against the sky — as one does on looking from below
up to the shoot of a cataract above — the stupendous torrent
slowly lipping over the edge of the large crater, like a huge,
hissing, fiery snake deliberately crawling forth from its lair
down upon its victims beneath. The motion is peculiarly

L50 ART AND NATURE

steady and slow, even where the angle of its descent is most
abrirpt, and accompanied, from the movement of the loose
cinders which impede or attend its progress, with a kind of
trinkling sound, somewhat resembling that caused by frag-
ments of ice hnrstling eaeli other in a half-frozen river. On
reaching the summit, we found a considerable change in the
appearance of the large crater since our former visit. Instead
of the comparatively level platform of hard lava, lying ten or
twelve feet lower than the edge on which we stood, and ex-
tending to the cone of the active crater in the centre, we
found the whole surface greatly elevated, broken up, and
heaved into irregular piles, evidently from the recent throes
of the volcano beneath. Across this space, slowly winding
among its chasms and irregularities, on came the moving lava
towards the outer verge, where, after making a circuit almost
beneath our feet, it swept round the mound on which we
were stationed, and poured over the edge, sending up a heat
and a sulphuric atmosphere almost intolerable within a few
yards. After a little breathing space here, we went round
the verge to a spot at some distance from the running lava,
where the surface was not too hot to tread upon, and there
bivouacked comfortably, producing our basket-stores of pro-
visions, wherewith to beguile the remaining hours until sun-
set. After this event takes place, an Italian twilight does
not long try the patience of those who long for darkness, as
on this occasion we did. And now it was we found the fog
amid which we had ascended an advantage to the scene.
As evening drew on, the darkness was rendered by it doubly
obscure, and the reflection of the lava upon the misty atmo-
sphere, dispersing a fiery tinge above and all around, was
beautiful and grand beyond description. Hitherto, during
the time we waited, the volcano itself had been peculiarly

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 151

quiet and inactive, — only one slight explosion occurring — so
much so that we feared a disappointment, and a party who
had arrived before us actually took themselves off in despair.
A hint from our good friend Salvatore made us act more
wisely, and we were indeed abundantly rewarded by seeing it
speedily throw off this temporary lethargy, and burst into the
most magnificent explosions.

At six o'clock we were startled from our resting-place by a
tremendous outburst, which seemed the beginning of a con-
tinued series for the whole evening. We sprang to our feet,
and stumbling with great difficulty over the jagged masses of
lava, scarcely half-cooled, and through an atmosphere at times
pungent and stifling to an intolerable degree, we traced the
fiery stream to its fearful source. Taking up our position
immediately below the crater, we stood in breathless admira-
tion, watching its convulsive throes succeeding each other at
intervals of one or two minutes. At times it seemed to pause
a little, as though for breathing space, then to increase in
fury, sending up its roaring volleys of blood-red stones and
dazzling meteors five or six hundred feet into the deep black
night of the sky, rendered yet more black and dark by the
smoke of the volcano, which at this hour usually collects in
murky clouds about the mountain top. These brilliant
messengers, after describing a graceful parabolic curve, fall
around the sides of the cone in a shower of splendour, —
mingling much of the beautiful with the terrible. The scene,
and our position were extraordinary indeed ; and the feelings
of awe, fascination, and subdued excitement, such as are
likely to be but seldom called forth in the same degree during
a lifetime. Again and again the idea arose, " Can we ever
forget the sensations of this moment !" And yet there was
little mingling of fear or nervous apprehension, though sur-

L52 AUT AND NATURE

rounded by objects that might well have caused such. We
were conscious rather of an elevation of spirit corresponding
in some degree with the sublimity of the scene, and the vast-
ness of the power whose operation we witnessed, — a more than
ordinary realization of the presence of Him to whom earth
and air, fire and water, yea all the powers of heaven and earth
are but the ministers of His will ! Yet it were presumptuous
to say that there is no danger to spectators in such a position ;
— danger there must always be from the perfect uncertainty
at what moment, or in what place the volcano is next to
find a vent. We were made to feel this especially as we stood
on a little mound of lava near the mouth of the crater.
On one side of this mound, and not above eight or ten feet
from us, the eye looked directly into a cavern of fire, — not of
flame, but of clear, quivering, glowing fire, like the heart of a
fierce furnace seven times heated. This aperture might be
about six feet in diameter ; — its depth — that of the mysterious
world of terrors below ! It was not a little appalling to
discover, by looking at the ragged edges of this opening, how
thin and slight is the crust interposed between the foot and
the abyss over which it treads. Indeed this had already been
evident from the innumerable rents and chasms that seamed
the surface over which Ave had passed, and through which the
red fire was often visible at the depth of not more than two
inches ; and yet so firm and metal-like feels the resistance to
one's step, that without this awful proof, the fact could scarcely
be believed. From somewhere between this mound and the
foot of the volcanic cone, though invisible for a few yards
from what must have been its actual source, oozed forth,
slowly and quietly, with a motion and consistency not inaptly
likened to that of thick honey, the dee]), red, glowing river of
lava, winding its deliberate but irresistible way over the black

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. L53

rugged surface of the large old crater, which, as already ex-
plained, forms the whole table summit of the mountain, —
creeping over the precipitous edge,' — and then down, down —
far into the thick darkness of the world below. No descrip-
tion, no painting can give an idea of the intense and glowing-
red of this molten lava, as it issues fresh from the bowels of
the earth. Liquid metal flowing from the furnace of an iron-
foundry, is the only thing that conveys an idea of it, yet falls
short of its vivid glare. A thin white vapour rose from the
surface, and the light reflected from it, and colouring its
ascending wreaths with a deep rich ruddy tint as it rose into
the darkness, marked its downward course, rendering it visible
from a great distance, and lending it a strange, wild, awful
character, powerfully affecting the imagination. One can
approach as near the running lava as the overpowering heat
will permit, without the slightest apparent danger. We
approached quite to the edge of it, and holding the ends of
the staves, with which we were provided, to the lava, they
flamed even before touching the liquid fire. One of our
party availed himself of it to light a cigar, another did his
best to roast an apple, but found the heat too great to com-
plete the operation. Of course, in our cautious movements
over the crackling surface, we were implicitly led and assisted
1 >y our guides, who bore flaming pine torches to light our foot-
steps,— little needed, indeed, while the artillery of the moun-
tain was flashing in the sky, but very necessary in the deep
darkness of the intervals. Strangely picturesque indeed
were the figures of these men, seen in the flickering torch-
light, standing in various attitudes upon the little eminences
around, leaning on their long white staves, or grouped toge-
ther around some fiery chasm, the ruddy glare of the fire
thrown upwards on their swarthy visages and strange dresses.

1">4 ART AND NATURE

At times, too, one of them would start the first notes of a
simple air, and then those around would catch it up, and
conclude each verse with a hurst of one of those wild and
most musical choruses, which characterize the old native airs
of Italy.

After enjoying the marvellous scene for some hours after
daylight had departed, we bethought ourselves of return.
Our descent was slow and cautious down the side of the great
cone, very different from the mad flight we executed on our
former expedition by daylight. Having at length discovered
and aroused our horses and their keepers amid the darkness
below, we mounted, and after a slow and most hazardous
ride through the surrounding gloom, relieved only by the
flickering light of the now exhausted torches, our perilous
path conducted us at last in safety to the Hermitage, where
we fell into the longer but safer carriage-road to Eesina,
By this time it had begun to rain a little ; and deprived of the
artificial heat of the mountain, the air of these lower regions
felt chilly and comfortless, contrasting, however, all the more
agreeably — in retrospect at least, with the comfort that
awaited us in our pleasant rooms at Naples.

At length February arrived, when the prospect of cold
spring winds setting in rendered it prudent that we should
bid adieu to Xaples, its beautiful scenery, its enchanting
climate, and the many friends whose society had added so
much to our enjoyment there. To the latter, I cannot make
even this passing allusion without allowing myself the grati-
fication of naming Dr. Strange, who, as a skilful and experi-
enced medical man, and kind and valued Christian friend,
will ever occupy a place in our grateful remembrance.

Our journey from Xaples to Rome I shall always recall

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 155

with pleasure, not only on account of the delicious weather
and lovely scenery, but also of the companions with whom

we travelled. I had long previously loved S R ;

hut during the latter part of our stay in Naples, and on this
journey, I learnt to know her still more intimately, and as
a necessary consequence, to love her better.

I shall not retrace our steps to Rome over the same route
as that by which we had come to Naples ; suffice it to say,
we reached our journey's end on the first day of the Carnival,
at a most unfortunate hour certainly, for it was just after the
confusion and hubbub of the day had commenced. Almost
every street was blockaded, and in all directions carriages and
horsemen were hurrying to the Corso. However, w7e did at
length reach the " Piazza di Spagna," and then the Via Con-

dotti, where we alighted at the house of Mr. and Mrs. M ,

whom we had known at Naples. They were exceedingly
kind to us in our dilemma, which was by no means a trifling
one. Owing to an unavoidable delay in leaving Naples, the

rooms which dear M and D had kindly taken for

us at the Hotel de Russie, were lost, it being quite impossible
at such a time, to keep any rooms long unoccupied, and we
could get no others. Indeed it seemed doubtful if we could

get a roof to cover us. At last the M s bethought them

of two bed-rooms belonging to a house in the Corso, the
balcony of which had been taken by them for the Carnival ;
and thither we went about ten o'clock. It seemed even then
as if we were to be turned adrift : no sound of reply reached
us in answer to our repeated knockings at the door, and we
heard only the creaking of sundry buckets which were paying
their nightly devoirs to a well in the court below, and slowly
drawn up by their several ropes to their several owners.
This has a strange appearance to one unaccustomed to this

L56 ART AND NATURE DNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

appendage to every house in Rome. At last one of the
drawers of water heard ns, and moved with pity — it is to be
supposed, came down and offered to go in search of the
win nan of the house, who accordingly by and by made her
appearance, and very civilly conducted us to our rooms.
Truly glad were we to obtain even such accommodation as
these proved to be, and speedily forgot our fatigues in sound
sleep.

ROME.

illlS^ip'pil HE sun shone brightly on the following day,
BFr^wjT one °f tlie most important of that festive
season — the Carnival at Rome ! How often
have these words passed before my eyes, and
how indefinite the ideas they called forth !
1 may well shrink from attempting a full descrip-
tion of it ; many pens far more eloquent than
mine have essayed the task, and, as far at least
". as concerns myself, without much success ; for truly
nothing could be more entirely new and unexpected
than was the whole scene to me,— the strange fantastic
medley of every kind of dress, masque, character, and equi-
page, amid which we found ourselves on entering the Corso.

Having written early in the morning to inform M of

our arrival, she answered my note in person, giving us a most
affectionate welcome to Rome. In the afternoon she came

for us, and we went to I) 's balconies, which were in the

very best possible position for seeing everything. He himself
shortly joined us, and ere long many of their acquaintances.
M introduced me to her cousin. Prince F , a very

158 AKT AND NATURE

pleasing unaffected person, entering with great apparent en-
joyment into the spirit of the thing. Prince 0 , the

representative of one of the old Italian families, and a great

friend of D 's, enlivened every one by bis good-humoured

raillery and fun. After a while M accompanied the

Princesse Borghese in a giro round the Corso, while W

and I went with some friends to enter more completely into
the scene, as of course one sees far more in a carriage, passing
on throughout the whole length of the street, than from a
balcony, however well situated. We set forth then, well
armed with bouquets of violets and roses, and sundry pretty
bonbons ; we ladies being protected by wire-masks, which we
soon found were absolutely necessary. The great amusement
of many is to throw handfuls of what are called comfits,
but in reality peas, perfectly hard and covered with lime.
Severely does one suffer in encountering a carriage full of
these merciless pelters, or in passing beneath a balcony, from
whence they can fire with double energy. We determined
not to return the rude sport in kind, but only to throw
bouquets and bonbons, and in consequence were very gal-
lantly treated.

Slowly following in the line of carriages, we had showers of
bouquets thrown to us, and several really pretty articles
among them. One most absurd mask, after giving me a
succession of flowers and bonbons, came and stood upon the
step of the carriage, making a speech, as in the olden time ;
declaring himself my " preux chevalier" for the day, and
presenting me with a beautiful sugared bonbon, with little
trinkets suspended from it. For this I, of course, returned
my best bow and my best bouquet ; the latter he fastened in
his hat as a trophy. Another threw me a prettily worked
Turkish bag, which erst had held cigars ; but of these unfemi-

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. L59

nine luxuries he bad assiduously divested it, and supplied their
place with bonbons. The groups of beautiful women, the
contadini in the picturesque dress of the Campagna and the

surrounding districts, were a most interesting part of the
exhibition. They looked so joyous, their brilliant black eyes
dancing with gladness ; their raven hair and clear olive com-
plexions contrasting well with the rich scarlet of their dresses,
and quite realizing my preconceived ideas of the splendid
beauty of the Italian women. I saw some faces amid that
crowd of the most magnificent cast of beauty ; and yet there
was many a fair girl from old England as lovely in a different
style. The most grotesque masks were everywhere to be
seen. Friars, Turks, Spaniards, dominoes in thousands ; nay,
even the heads of animals, bears, donkeys, and baboons.
Then there were triumphal cars, carriages driven by elegant
damsels, with long ringlets and shepherdess hats, but whose
large brown hands and sunburnt features betrayed their dis-
guise. Or again we came upon a group closely pressing
round some improvvisatore, whose animated voice and gestures
never fail to arrest an admiring audience. Above were gaily
decorated windows and balconies, four and five tiers, crowded
with bright colours and fair forms, while on either side the
street below was lined with double rows of seats. The very
air at times seemed darkened with the showers of bouquets
that were flying in every direction, amid shouts of laughter,
hurrahs, and friendly greetings. Mingling in a kind of har-
monious discord with all this were the screaming of Italian
bagpipes, the tinkling of hurdygurdies, varied with the far
more musical sound of the never-ceasing " Ecco fiore !" of the
bouquet-venders, telling you where you might renew your
supply of floral missiles. In short, the extraordinary and
most bedlam-like appearance of the Corso during that memo-

L60 ART AND NATURE

rable day must be seeD — nor only seen, it must be entered into
to be at all conceived. The excitement, too, is assuredly
infectious. I defy the gravest individual to go and witness
all that national good-humour, mirth, and gaiety, and not
enter into something of its spirit for the time. Although I
certainly thought, before I witnessed it, that such extrava-
gance could only be wearying and childish, no one enjoyed it
more than I did when there. At sunset a gun is fired from
the Capitol, and a troop of mounted dragoons ride slowly
down the centre of the Corso, to clear away the crowd of
carriages ; and then, whilst the whole street still looks crowded
with human beings, they dash back again at full speed, to
make way for the horse-race, which follows like a whirlwind
a minute or two after them. I had expected much from this
part of the spectacle, the race of the Barber iy or horses
without riders ; but a few moments before, I had been told
that the poor animals are sadly tortured by sharp spiked balls,
hung so as to dangle at their sides, and by this and sundry
other devices, are terrified, to exert themselves to the utmost,
so that I lost all pleasure in looking at them. On, on they
came, clearing their way through the dense crowd which
opened before them. The distant tramp was heard, a rush-
ing whiz as of cannon-balls that ploughed the surface of the
earth, raising a cloud of dust, — and they were past with
headlong speed, their receding way tracked by the distant
roar and commotion of the vast multitude.

We heard with horror, that the temerity with which many
lean forward to the very last moment to see the frantic
animals approaching — leaving themselves only the instant in
which they pass to withdraw, had cost at least two persons
their lives ! There is something grating to the feelings in
the whole of this part of the spectacle. In former days the

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 161

race had to be run by Jews, and though now horses have
been substituted, they are still compelled to take home to
themselves the barbarous indignity implied, though no longer
inflicted, by providing costly prizes for the owners of the
winner.

Even in the midst of the confusion of the Carnival, we had
been fortunate enough to meet with very nice lodgings in one
of the streets leading from the Piazza di Spagna, Capo le
Case, and were able to remove to them the same night, to our
infinite satisfaction.

I must not pass over in silence the closing scene of the
Carnival, the " Moccoletti," in which each person endea-
vours to keep burning his own lighted torch of wax, and
to extinguish his neighbour's. This effected, he exclaims
in triumph to the luckless individual, " Senza moccolo ! "
The coup d'ceil was brilliant to a degree. At every window,
even on the roofs of houses, were flaring torches, and the
whole street below — each way you looked, bespangled with
myriads of dancing, waving lights, many of them encased in
various coloured paper lanterns. Nothing can be Conceived
to surpass the confusion, the din, the bewilderment that
reigned around ! Cries of " Senza moccolo," roars of laughter
at the expense of the discomfited, or of triumph over some
long-successful opponent ! Our balconies were crowded, and
being conspicuous from the number of lights, we were merci-
lessly attacked. D and several others made capture,

however, of a huge broom, with which those in the story
above were continually sweeping out our lights, without our

being able to return the favour, till D performed this

feat, which was a great triumph. M and I, tired at

last with the noise and heat, not to speak of the smell of
extinguished torches, and frequent showers of incited wax.

!"-! ART AND NATURE

li'l't rather earlier, walking to a side street at the back of the
house. Here not a human being was to be seen except the
servants with the carriage; a sudden contrast indeed to the
scene we had just quitted. We heard the distant hum of
the multitude Long after we had left the Corso.

The distractions of the Carnival being over, the crowds of
holiday visitors dispersed, and the citizens sobered down into
the quiet observance of Lent, we commenced the pleasant
task of visiting the various objects of interest in Rome.

We were advised first to go to the Tower of the Capitol,
the panoramic view from which enables one to class the
antiquities into districts, and to form an idea of their relative
situations.

It was an admirable day for the purpose, and with pleasur-
able excitement we began the ascent of the steep steps which
lead to the top of the Tower. Here we passed close beside
the large bell of the Capitol, — that bell in itself carrying
the mind back to stirring times and mighty deeds. To me it
spoke at once of the days of Eienzi, whose noble character,
as the friend of the people, is thus beautifully drawn : —

" Rienzi ! last of Romans ! while the tree
Of Freedom's withered trunk puts forth a Leaf,
Even for thy tomb a garland let it be, —
The forum's champion, and the people's ehief, —
Her new-born Numa thou, — with reign, alas, too brief!"

On many occasions during his career this deep-toned bell
rung loud and long — its solemn tones, heard by every ear.
causing many a heart to vibrate with a response of triumph
or of terror.

When we reached the platform of the Tower, it was some
moments ere we could lix upon any individual object, the

UNDEE AN ITALIAN" SKY. 103

whole view was so spirit-stirring, teeming as it did with re-
collections of the world's history. By degrees we began to
distinguish many with names — how familiar ! On one side
we looked out upon the Avide Campagna : there were the
sweeping arches of the mighty aqueducts extending far along
the plains, and the melancholy tombs, grey with age, some
mingling their own dust with the illustrious dead beneath,
whose virtues they were designed to immortalize. Nearer.
and not less full of thrilling interest, were the half-hidden
portals of the Catacombs, the burial-place of the early Chris-
tians. Far beyond rose the encircling hills, clear and distinct
against that sky so intensely blue, with here and there higher
and more distant peaks of the snow-capped Apennines tower-
ing above them. The little towns, often bearing names that
with their very sound bring back the memory of ages, lay
scattered along the verge of the plain, or revealed from amidst
the shadows of the mountains, by some passing gleam of
sunlight resting on them.

Slowly the eye takes in all these more distant objects, and
then nearer are seen those noble arches, some still of almost
dazzling whiteness beneath the rays of the brilliant sun, the
yet enduring memorials of victory, — the Arch of Constantine,
of Severus, of Titus. There is a memory, too, that wakens
at the sight of that Arch of Titus. On what ruins does it
rise ? Whose voice, whose words, does it so eloquently pro-
claim ? " 0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! thou that wast mighty
among nations, how art thou fallen ! Behold thy house is
left unto thee desolate." Every stone in that fabric tells of
the fulfilment of that awful prophecy of thy crucified and re-
jected King. " Not one stone in thy temple shall be left
upon another."

Nearer still to where we stood were the crumbling fanes of

1('»4 ANT AND NATURE

Jupiter Capitolimis — the lonely columns of the Temple of
Saturn — the one single pillar, standing alone amid broken
fragments of its fellows in the centre of the Forum. The
Roman Forum ! Yes ; that open space below, where chil-
dren are playing amid the tangled grass, is " The Forum!"
" There a thousand years of silenced factions sleep — there
the immortal accents glow, and still the eloquent air breathes
of Cicero!"

To the left is all that remains of the vanished pomp of
" the Golden House of Nero," — the Palace of the Caesars,
where now the untrained vine and tall reeds grow in wild
luxuriance.

From this Tower the " seven hills" can be distinctly
marked. The Capitoline on which it stands — the Palatine,
covered with vineyards and the ruins of the Palace of the
Csesars — the Aventine, its base washed by the "Yellow
Tiber." Over the Coliseum, the eye rests on the magnificent
Basilica of St. John Lateran, marking the boundary of the
Ccelian. The Esquiline is indicated by the Baths of Titus
and the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. The Quirinal is
made conspicuous by a vast Palace of the Pope, on its highest
point, Monte Cavallo. The Yiminal is very difficult to dis-
tinguish, from the flatness of its summit : it lies between the
Quirinal and Esquiline.

Moving to another quarter of the platform, the mighty
Coliseum comes in view : " A ruin — yet what a ruin !"
Walls, palaces, streets, have been reared from the material of
its gigantic ruins, and yet one marvels whether, indeed, " it
hath been plundered, or but cleared." And then, ere turning
from ancient to more modern Borne, is pointed out the
Tarpeian Bock, immediately beneath the Capitol. It is diffi-
cult to imagine the death of traitors precipitated over it,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. ],;.-,

when one looks at an elevation of but a few feet overhanging
a garden ; but doubtless the height may have been greatly
lessened by the piling up of rubbish from the ruins around.

How sublime, even at this distance, rises the vast and
wondrous Dome of St. Peter's, fir into the sky, as though
asserting its pre-eminence over all beside.

Not far off stands an unpretending Church, yet with much
of interest in my eyes, for it was upon its walls Rienzi exhi-
bited the allegorical picture of Rome, which first roused the
people. Here, too, he assembled them by the sound of the
"solitary trumpet," on the 20th May 1347, and hence in vast
streams they poured on to the Capitol, while chanting the
Hymn of Liberty !

Let the mountains exult around !

On her seven-hilled throne— renowned—

Once more old Rome is crowned !

Jubilate !

Sing out, 0 vale and wave —
Look up from each laurelled grave
Bright dust of the deathless brave.

Jubilate !

Pale Vision, what art Thou ? — Lo,
From Time's dark deeps
Like a wind It sweeps —

Like a wind when the tempests blow.

A shadowy form — as a giant ghost —

It stands in the midst of the armed host —

The dead man's shroud on Its awful limbs —

And the gloom of Its presence the daylight dims—

And the trembling world looks on aghast : —

All hail to the Soul of the mighty Past !

Hail! All hail!

LG6 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN" ITALIAN SKY,

As we speak — as we hollo! — Tt moves, It breathes, —
From its clouded cresl bud the laurel wreaths :
As a sun thai leaps up from the anus of night,
The Shadow takes shape, and the gloom takes light.

Hail! All hail!

The Soul of the Past, again

To its ancienl home

In the hearts of Rome
Hath come to resume Its reign !

0 Fame, with a prophet's voipe,

Bid the ends of the earth rejoice !

Wherever the proud arc strong,

And right is oppressed by wrong — ■

Wherever the day dim shines

Through the cell where the captive pines —

Go forth, with a trumpet's sound,

Ami tell to the nations round —

On the hills which the heroes trod —

In the shrines of the saints of God —

In the Cffisars' halls, and the martyrs' prison —

That the slumber is broke, and the Sleeper arisen !

That the reign of the Goth and the Vandal is o'er !

And earth feels the tread of the Roman

( )nce more !

THE VATICAN STATUARY BY TORCHLIGHT.

ne evening, at the Palazzo Albano, the con-
X versation turned on the peculiar beauty which
'A torchlight gives to statuary, and the proba-
[W bility that in former days, the Romans em-
ployed this mode of heightening the effect of
those works of art of which they were so proud.
With his usual kindly wish to procure any en-
joyment for his friends within his reach, D

Ji/r immediately caught at the idea of forming a party
s '.) some evening to accompany him to the Vatican, to
admire its treasures by torchlight. It was with great pleasure
I heard him speak of this, as it was a gratification I had no
chance of enjoying except through him. No time was lost
in making the needful preparations, and in securing the
friendly services of Mr. Macdonald, one of the first sculptors
then in Rome, to direct the placing of the torches to the best
advantage, as well as to enhance our enjoyment by such
explanations as an artist alone can give. M- — ■ — 's cousin,

Prince F , Lord and Lady M , Lord C , Lady

G , Madame S , a very lovely Russian, and Lord de

1(18 AKT AND NATURE

T , were of the party; and with the usual amount of

attendants which in Italy are required for everything, together
with the torchbearers, we numbered a pretty large assemblage.

I have entered on an arduous task in trying to record any
particulars of that wondrous place ; and yet I would not that
the power of mentally retracing those hours should be lost to
me. Leaving, of course, the Stanze of Raphael, and the
galleries containing the famous pictures, we at once passed on
to what is called the Galleria Lapidaria, which forms the first
division of the corridor of Bramante. We could now only
rapidly walk through this collection of ancient sepulchral
inscriptions and monuments, though on other occasions I had
lingered with pleasure among these records of the early
Christians, many of them touching in their simplicity, and in
the constant reference to a hope beyond the grave. Neither
could we give much time to the Museo "Chiara-Monti."
which forms the second division of the gallery ; so that I
merely note down here and there a bust or statue that par-
ticularly attracted me.

The first was a sitting statue of Tiberius, in the toga, with
a crown of oak leaves, found at Yeii. Close beside it is one
of the most beautiful busts known, in Parian marble, brought
from Ostia ; it is of the young Augustus, and represents him
about sixteen years of age. Another bust of this Emperor,
taken at the age of twelve, was found at Albano, and bought
by an English nobleman. The celebrated statue of him at
Florence was executed when he was forty : so that there are
three undoubted likenesses of the great Emperor. All re-
semble each other strongly in feature and character; the
latter being the matured expression of the two former. Then
follow "Demosthenes," a celebrated statue found at Frascati ;
Antonia, wife of Drusus, and mother of Germanicus, Claudius,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. \C,<j

and Livia. The drapery of this figure is wrought out in
wonderful perfection; yet it is surpassed, as it seemed to
me, by the finest draped statue I have seen— the " Minerva
Medica/' found on the Esquiline. This is one of those sculp-
tures of which neither copy nor description can convey an
adequate idea. I was struck with the transparency of the
marble, as the flambeaux were so held as to cast the light
behind it. The famous torso of Apollonius must not be left
unnamed, though I cannot but remark, however heterodox
the opinion, that it requires a more matured judgment than
mine worthily to appreciate this fragment. So brief are the
notices which alone I can bestow on the numberless objects
of interest on which the eye fell, as we slowly traversed the
immense galleries, that I must wholly pass by many that I
should like to name, and stop at the Cortile di Belvedere.
And, in truth, the half-hour I spent there only made me
long to return. This court is surrounded by an open portico,
with four small cabinets, which contain the choicest speci-
mens of sculpture. In the first, is the Perseus and The
Boxers, by Canova. I cannot help thinking it must have
been contrary to the wish of Canova that they were placed
here, challenging comparison with the master-pieces of art.
Doubtless they are life-like and energetic, but they are
Boxers, — and incapable of producing any pleasing impres-
sion on the mind. I therefore turned to the second cabinet,
which contains the Antinous. Beautiful it is, indeed ; and
as I looked on its graceful form I could well believe that even
a Domenichino might learn from it a truer estimate of beauty.
It seems to me that great skill has dictated the placing of
these statues. After looking upon the finished loveliness of
the Antinous, the group in the next cabinet strikes upon the
startled senses with a force which even its own power could

scarce have produced, had the mind been move prepared for
it. As by one irresistible spell, we all stood motionless when
the Laocoon was revealed by the strong light thrown upon it.
No one spoke — it seemed as though the appalling spectacle
of human agony arrested every feeling save that of sympathy.
1 felt as if one could not continue long to look upon the
helplessness of those arms, straining to resist the tightening
folds of the hideous serpent, — no nearer now to unlock the
fatal embrace than they were hundreds of years ago ! There
is something in the horrible idea which grows upon the mind,
and I turned away lest I should never lose the impression of
those forms of agony struggling on for ever and for ever. In
thinking of this group afterwards, more perhaps than at the
moment, I recalled an imperfection which doubtless has
struck others far better qualified to judge. I refer to the
proportions of the sons as compared with those of the father.
They are not boys, but miniature men ; so that one must deem
the father a giant. Again, I must remark the skill evinced
in the arrangement of these statues. Could any thing be
more enchanting than the change from the positively painful
emotions, called forth by the group we had left, to the
pure, elevated beauty of the Apollo Belvedere ! There he
stands alone : no other statue, no ornament of any kind to
divert the attention. I scarce know how I felt, as, somewhat
apart from the rest, I looked on that very perfection of ideal
beauty. Almost unconsciously a thought of childhood arose,
— How would an angel look and move, and in what form
would he appear, if once again such a bright messenger were
to descend on earth ? Here seemed something to realize the
thought — a form meet for an angel. And can a figure so
instinct with life be of cold, senseless marble ! 80 ethereal
is it in air and mien, so elastic in attitude, so apparently

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY.

quick and light seems the springing step, as if it would not
bend the dewy floweret on which it rests. It is the purity,
the spirituality of this figure which so exalts it in my estima-
tion. It is difficult to suppose the artist had any model.
Had he chosen to represent pure intellect, it would have been
comparatively easy ; there would have been the commanding
forehead, the lips compressed and firm, the eye deep and full
of thought, the whole character concentrated into one single
idea, — power. But the purely spiritual represented in mar-
ble,— what a very miracle of art ! And yet so perfect is this
exquisite form that the material is forgotten. And there he
stands and has stood, to be gazed at by thousands, the subject
of every idle comment from the ignorant ; he who looks as if
he were just alighting on the world to fulfil some purpose
high enough to give this look of sublime energy to his coun-
tenance, and having shot his winged arrow, or done whatever
fable may have ascribed to him, you see him just about to
spring from earth and depart.

How wonderful is this high power God has given to man,
thus as it were to perpetuate, from age to age, these beautiful
creations of his art, the source of such varied and intense
emotions in his fellow-men ! To take but these two works
last named, is it not a wondrous power that can yet, after
so many hundred years, appeal to the sympathy, nay, cause
the very nerves to shrink at the sight of human agony,
pourtrayed in senseless marble ; and again, that can awake
the most pleasing sense of beauty by means of that motion-
less, ever-enduring form of ethereal grace, which at tin's
day, as at the first, embodies to each beholder his ideal of
perfection !

I have often thought — what were these men themselves, to
whom such noble gifts were entrusted ? Did their inner

\12 ART AND NATURE tJNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY.

sense of moral and intellectual beauty correspond with the
genius that could create a semblance so faithful of their out-
ward form ? Sad is it to fear, in too many instances, that
even like ourselves who look with rapture on their works, the
gift wras often deified and adored, while the Giver was dis-
honoured and forgotten ! Yet I have lately, and with pecu-
liar pleasure, met with the translations of several poems by
the old Italian painters and sculptors, as well as poets, which
seem to shew, that in some instances at least, those gifted
men had been led to taste of purer streams, and higher sources
of enjoyment than genius could open, or the sense of beauty
yield them.

I shall transcribe one whose author lived, it is true, at a
comparatively later date, but whose genius and fame has
rivalled even the highest name among them all, — Michael
Angelo Buonarotti.

" Now my frail bark through life's tempestuous flood
I-. Bteered, and lull in view that port is seen,
Whore all must answer what their course has been,
And every work he tried, if bad or good.
Now do those lofty dreams, my fancy's brood,
Which made of Art an idol and a queen,
Melt into air, and now I feel — how keen ! —
That what I needed most I must withstood.
Ye fabled joys, ye tales of empty love,
What are ye now, if two-fold death be nigh ?
The tir^r is certain, and the last I dread.
Ah ! what does Sculpture — what does Painting prove —
When we have seen the Cross, and fixed our eye-
On Him whose arms of love were there outspread !"

ST. PETER'S.

ell might Gibbon pronounce St. Peter's " the
must glorious temple that ever was raised for
the purpose of religious worship." At each
;M successive visit it has grown upon us in vast-
ness and beauty, until we have felt as though
the idea of it were becoming too vast for the
mind to master by rules and measurements ap-
plicable to other edifices. The only way to com-
'' ' pretend its real magnitude is to judge it by space and
,j distance, as one does the size of a plain or of a moun-
tain. In ordinary buildings, the various details are usually
estimated by some familiar measurement. For example, one
has some idea of the height and width of the door of entrance,
and may take for granted that the breadth, length, and height
of its architectural parts will be in proportion ; and these
we comprehend accordingly with tolerable correctness. It is
true that here also these proportions are carried out with the
most beautiful and faultless exactness. But then, the first
step the mind has to take — the actual proportions of the
entrance itself, or of whatever object the eye of the measurer

174 ART AND NATURE

starts from — ;uv bo stupendous, so far beyond anything one
has previously seen in architecture, that the eye is ((instantly
deceived. In the well-known instance of the white marble
cherubs supporting the basins of " Holy Water" on each
side near the entrance, I never doubted, at the first glance,
that they were of the ordinary size of children, which they
represent ; yet on near inspection we found them at least
seven feet high, and with their chubby limbs, representing
infancy, more massive than three ordinary men ! And so
through all its wondrous details. There are figures of the
Evangelists in mosaic, round the lowest compartment of the
dome, which, from below, look very little larger than life, and
yet the exact length of the pen which St. Luke holds in his
hand, is five and a half feet. Again, there is the magnificent
Baldacchino or canopy, of bronze gilt, of rich and exquisite
workmanship, directly under the dome, over the high altar
and tomb of St. Peter. As you enter the building at the
further end, this structure appears the size of an ordinary
pulpit ; it would never occur to any one as being more, and
yet the cross which surmounts this Baldacchino is ninety-two
feet above the level of the pavement on which you stand — as
high as many of our common church spires ! This deception
of the eye readily accounts for the fact that the edifice itself
docs not, on many minds, till after repeated visits at least,
produce that overwhelming feeling of greatness which one
might expect. There is one peculiarity, however, which at
once strikes the stranger in St. Peter's, and which assists
greatly, I think, in realizing the vastness of the space — and
that is the purity and freeness of the atmosphere. Unlike
ordinary churches or halls of the largest dimensions, there is
no unpleasant feeling of dampness or of confined air, nor any
peculiar smell of the materials of which it is composed All

(\I»KK AX ITALIAN SKY. 17")

is too distant and open for this. The interior of St. Peter's
has a climate, so to speak, of its own : it is never chilly, and
never close or heated. From the very immensity of its space
there is a soothing stillness — a calm in its atmosphere, which
no sudden draughts or currents can disturb. No matter
what may be the temperature without, winter or summer,
within this world of beauty, and beneath that firmament of
glowing colours and golden splendour, the seasons seem to
know no change, the subdued and softened atmosphere has
ever the same grateful soothing to the senses.

We found on experience, almost more than we had antici-
pated, that an ascent to the summit of St. Peter's is the only
way by which any adequate idea can be formed of its true
magnitude. This ascent presents, indeed, one of the most
extraordinary spectacles.

In the first place, you do not, as in ordinary buildings,
mount flights of common steps, apparently interminable, not
so much from actual number as from their laborious steep-
ness, and a dark and stifling staircase ; but you walk easily
and agreeably upwards by a broad paved road, constructed a
cordon /, well lighted, more than wide enough for the passage
ot* a laden waggon, and of so gentle an ascent that horses
constantly go up and down with their burdens. Arrived upon
the principal roof, the scene presents somewhat the appear-
ance of a little village of workmen, who, with their dwelling-
houses, implements, heaps of materials, a fountain of water
constantly flowing, and other symptoms of complete domesti-
cation, and permanent residence in this higher sphere, seem
to have nothing to do with the world below. As we tra-
versed the immense fields of lead, we recalled, and quite
understood what the American author Cooper says, in his
account of the ascent, that he was " seized with the idea of

17i*) ART AND NATURE

having a horse to gallop about upon it!" From this plain
the three domes arise. The two side ones, which are not
seen from immediately below, rise above it to the height of
one hundred and thirty-six feet. Eaeli of these would itself
be a very fine dome proportioned to a large church ; but they
are insignificant beside that which rises in the centre like a
little mountain from the plain. Its architecture, ornament,
and proportions, which seem to me absolutely perfect, can
only be judged of here ; as, indeed, the size of the dome can
only be : for besides that it is double, and that the interior
only of the inner one (which the outer encases) is that
which is seen from the pavement below inside the Church,
the extent to which the roof stretches on every side, prevents
the base of the outer dome from being seen at all, except
from a considerable distance.

The broad road of ascent continues no farther than this.
We had therefore to traverse the leaden plain to reach the
architectural mountain we had still to climb. A long series
of short flights of steps, and narrow passages of inclined
plane, leads to the summit of the dome. About half way up.
the cicerone ushered us by a doorway upon a railed gallery,
which opens upon, and runs round the interior. It is a
moment and a position this, I think, to try the strongest
nerves, and affect the dullest imagination. Not that there is
the slightest danger, for the gallery is broad, and a high sub-
stantial railing prevents the possibility of a fall ; but the stu-
pendous spectacle itself, bursting suddenly and unexpectedly
upon one, must inevitably produce a powerful impression of
some kind. With me it was one of deep awe and solemnity,
a feeling of overwhelming magnitude, as though everything
around, on which the eye rested for a moment, were preter-
naturally expanding, — growing larger and larger even while

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 177

one gazed, until the sensation became almost one of pain and
bewilderment ! We looked across a vast dim gulf, round
which the massive balustrade ran on the opposite side like a
slender cord. The mosaic figures, forms, and faces, which
from below look like delicate and softly-shaded pictures, are
here found to be composed of large cubes of marble, coarsely
fitted together and roughly coloured, while with huge limbs
and gigantic features, the forms depicted seem to glare upon
you strangely, like the very genii of space and greatness ! For
one moment I leant over, and looked down ; but oh, what
words can describe the shuddering, yet fascinated wonder of
that look and scene ! Yet I looked more steadily then than
I can even think of now. It was at the first glance an abyss
of dim space and indistinctness, but a steadier gaze shewed it
to be one of beauty and of grandeur.

I believe the deception as to height, at least, must here be
reversed ; for to judge by the appearance of objects below, it
seemed more like looking down from a mountain of a thou-
sand feet than a gallery of four hundred. There were some
hundreds of people on the pavement below, yet the eye had
to search for and fix itself upon the diminutive specks ere
they could be distinctly recognised as such ; and though these
seemed moving across a field of marble, one yet sees from
this position but a portion of the whole area. From this
point, the next stage of ascent is to another inside gallery of
smaller circumference, at the very top of the dome, and at
the foot of the conical-shaped neck that surmounts it, called
the Lantern. From this gallery we could but cast one hasty
glimpse below. The dizzy, reeling vacancy into which the
eye plunges, is almost maddening, and, I could imagine, might
soon suggest the horrible idea of leaping over ! The Lantern
is a little octagonal-shaped room, about fourteen feet wide at

178 ART AND NATURE

the bottom, and tapering to the top. On one side is a little
wooden staircase, up which we scrambled, and then on by an
iron ladder inside the narrow stalk or rod of the ball, into
which I stepped and stood upright, with several feet of space
above ine. It would easily hold a dozen people, but owing to
the power of the sun, and the stifling smell of heated metal,
there was not enough of wholesome air even for one. I was
glad speedily to find my way down again. We stood long en-
joying the view from the gallery which encircles the outside of
the Lantern ; — a view that may be surpassed, indeed, by some
in the mere beautiful and picturesque, but which, in stirring
interest, in memories and associations of the past, in strange
and striking objects of the present, in solemn thoughts and
undefined shadows of the future, may well challenge the
world to shew its equal. In eveiy part of the horizon, save to
the south, where the eye catches for a moment — distant but
refreshing, — the blue sparkle of the Mediterranean, a varied
and picturesque chain of mountains bounds a view, every
portion of which is a landmark of the world's history, the
scene of classic fable, or the haunt of immortal genius.
Nearer, but for miles and miles on every side, stretches the
softly undulating, but melancholy Campagna, where it ever
seems to me as though Nature herself would eloquently
tell, in the calm mournfulness of the face she wears, to every
wanderer as he comes to look upon her, the sad moral of the
fallen mighty one ! And then, stretched literally beneath one's
feet, lies spread the city itself — not Kome truly, but Home's
remnants and memorials — a book wherein is read in plainer
and more impressive characters than any printed page could
shew it, the vanity of earth, and all that rests upon it !
They say that to moralize on Kome is trite and common-
place ; but as well might one attempt to read some tale of

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 179

true and tragic interest, and close the Look without one
thought or feeling about it, as to look on this theatre, so long
that of the world's concentrated destinies, and focus of its
power, its wisdom, and its energies, and not feel the heart
overflow, and the mind lose itself, in a thousand emotions
and memories. You think of all her once unchecked and
haughty pride, when her intercourse with other nations was
but despotic law-giving, and the language of universal boast ;
when she claimed a title which now even to recall is the
deepest satire upon her fate, " the Eternal City ! " You look
at her now, and without any other testimony, would not the
air of expressive silence and decay which hangs over her
sombre roofs, her grey and time-worn palaces, her mouldering
ruins, tell you that ages have seen it all trampled in the
dust, and the spark of its vitality fled for ever ! You think
of her power — her impregnable, defying strength — and you
can plainly trace the full outline of her crumbling walls and
fallen bulwarks standing yet — but only as it seems in mockery,
and in moral of man's boasted strength and real weakness !
You think of that wealth, and pomp, and grandeur, which it
was the wonder of all nations to contemplate, the spoiling
and humiliation of all nations to minister to ; — and now the
only vestiges of existing wealth, the only traces of pomp and
splendour are the temples, domes, and palaces, that have
been raised on the ruins of this City of the Cajsars ! And
raised by whom ? by the votaries of that sect, which, in im-
perial Borne, was long too contemptible to be noticed ; raised,
too — however in ignorance as to the true worship of Him
who " dwelleth not in temples made with hands,"- — professedly
to the honour of that despised Nazarene, whose name she had
scarce then heard, nor deigned to ask after ; whose obscure
followers, when at length recognised, were noticed only as

180 ART AND NATURE 1 CTDER AN ITALIAN SKY,

fitting victims of the cross, the fire, or the ferocity of wild
beasts, to furnish for the arena a spectacle to regale her
citizens on chosen holidays ! Yes, truly, " The Lord doeth
according to His own will in the armies of heaven, and
among the inhabitants of the earth ; and He hath chosen the
foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the
weak things of the world to confound the strong ; and things
that are despised hath God chosen, yea, and things that are
not, to bring to nought things that arc"

THE PROTESTANT BURYING-GROUND.

April 3.

ai>v M called to take me to the Protestant

Burying-Ground. It is a lovely spot, a little
beyond the walls, and close to one of the
most imperishable monuments of antiquity,
the pyramid of Cams Cestus. It is a little
sheltered nook on a gentle declivity looking to-
wards Rome, between Mount Aventine and a
small hill called Monte Testaccio. The sunbeams
^ fall warm and bright upon its slopes, and countless
flowers fill the air with perfume. An avenue of tall
China-rose trees, almost arching overhead, leads from the
gate to the upper end, and many of the marble monuments
are half hidden by the luxuriant growth of lovely and
fragrant shrubs. The stillness around has something sweet
and soothing in it, but nothing of desolation. It gave me a
feeling of melancholy pleasure to see this spot as it is. There
is such sadness in the thought of leaving the earthly remains
of one who has made life sweet to us, in a foreign land, far from
our own familiar homes, that truly one feels the want of
some associations that may at least soften the pang. Here,

L82 ART AND NATURE

I felt that such might be the case. There is a eared-fur look
about each separate grave that told of remembering friends
even in the stranger's land.

I read many of the epitaphs : one or two, with their marble
monuments, are very simply beautiful. On one is a broken
lily, with the name inscribed beneath it of a young English
girl lately buried. I sought for the monument erected in
remembrance of " Rosa Bathurst," whose sad fate is inscril >ed
upon the marble slab. She was the pride and idol of her
family, a lovely, amiable girl, full of life and spirits. While
riding with a party of friends on the banks of the Tiber,
whose waters were at the time unusually large and swollen,
her horse suddenly became unmanageable, and backing, fell
with her into the river ! She sank instantly, and it was
some months before her body was found ! Near tins grave
is another which I regarded with interest. It is that of a

brother of our friends the R s, who was also drowned in

the Tiber, by the upsetting of a boat. In the upper part of
the ground the ashes of our English poet Shelley are laid.
We sat down here, and read the lines he himself wrote on
the death of his friend and brother-poet, Keats : —

" The spirit of the spot shall lead
Thy footsteps to ;i slope of green access,
Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead
A light of laughing flowers along the graves is spread ;
And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time

like slow fire upon a hoary brand.
And one keen pyramid with wedge snlilime,
Pavilioning the dust of him who plann'd
This refuge for his memory, doth stand
Like flame transformed to marble : and beneath,
A field is spread — on which a newer band
Have pitched, in heaven's smile, their camp of death,
Welcoming him we lose, with scarce extinguished breath.

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 183

Here pause. — These graves are all too young as yet
To have outgrown the sorrow which consign 'd
Its charge to each."

The day shone in all the brightness and heat of one in June,

when, with Miss E and K M , we set off on a long

drive ; first going to the Theatre of Marcellus, built by Au-
gustus, and dedicated to his sister Octavia's son, — the young
Marcellus. Her name he gave to a magnificent portico, added
to the Theatre, as a place of shelter. It is still an enormous
pile, though greatly disfigured by the vicinity of the Orsiui
palace, and the dirty shops which occupy the ground-story.

The Baths of Caracalla, just beyond the Palace of the
Caesars, came next. These ruins are a perfect labyrinth of
gigantic walls and arches, covering several acres of ground, —
perhaps the most stupendous monument of the wealth and
power of ancient Rome, except the Coliseum, to be seen,
though by no means proportionally interesting.

Our third stoppage was at the Tomb of the Scipios. This
is in a vineyard not far from the beginning of the Appian
Way. We got out at the Antique Gate, a kind of portico
with stone seats, and after reading the inscription — " Sepol-
cro' dei Scipioni," — entered the Tomb. Our guide, a fine
dark-eyed Italian girl in a most picturesque dress, lighted
tapers, and led the way into the interior. The inscriptions,
marking the different members of the family buried here, are
quite legible. It is pleasing to muse in that quiet spot on
the history of this noble race, on the many high-souled virtues
which adorned, and the many stirring scenes which rendered
famous the lives of some of them ; and then to recall the
funereal pomp and splendour which this very place has wit-
nessed when the drama of life was closed, and the body of the
great was gathered to his fathers.

1X4 ART AND NATURE

We went next to a "Columbarium," not far from the Tomb
of the Scipios. It is so called from the rows of little niches,
like the holes of a pigeon-house, in which were placed the
urns which held the ashes of the dead. The one we saw is
supposed to be a very good specimen of these sepulchral
monuments, and the inscriptions above each of the niches
prove it to have belonged to the time of Augustus and
Tiberius. The interior is painted with Arabesques.

A drive of about ten minutes brought us to the Circus of
Romulus, — the most perfect that has been discovered. It is a
vast oblong space, and bears the date of 311. The length is
said to be fifteen hundred and sixty feet, and the width two
hundred and fifty. The outer wall is very nearly entire.
Inside, the turf is remarkably smooth, and with the many
bright flowers which enamel it, forms a carpet of variegated
colours most pleasing to the eye.

From hence we had a good view of the Tomb of Cecilia
Metella. It is a tower of immense size and strength, formed
of huge blocks of travertine, fitted together with the greatest
precision, and without cement. The frieze and cornice are
both very rich, the former ornamented with lias-reliefs in
white marble. The inscription, Cecilia? Metellse, is legible, but
nothing to give any insight into either the life or death of
this " lady of the dead.'"' This mystery caught the imagina-
tion of the poet, who has thrown yet greater interest on the
tomb, by those lines in Childe Harold : —

" What was this tower of strength? Within its cave

What treasure lay so locked, so hid ? A woman's g

But who was she, the lady of the dead,

Tomh'd in a palace ? How lived — Low loved — how died she ?

Whither would conjecture stray ?

Thus much alone we know, — Metella died

The wealthiest Roman's wife. Behold his love — or pride."

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. L85

Leaving- this side of the Campagna, a pleasant drive brought
us to the Fountain of Egeria, — one of the sweetest spots
imaginable. The surface of the ground undulates in the
most picturesque manner. Little hills and dales, tufted occa-
sionally with trees whose branches hang gracefully to the
ground, and all between smooth and verdant with the luxu-
riant grass. The sacred grove, with its dark mysterious shade
of ilex, formed a singular and most striking contrast to the
laughing radiance and summer beauty of all else. The path
which leads to the Fountain itself winds down one of these
grassy hills, passing the base of the " Sacred Mount." The
ruins of the old Temple are almost hidden by the festoons
of ivy and other graceful creepers, which seem more lavish
of their loveliness in a spot like this, than in the cultivated
garden. The tall reeds bend before the breeze, and seem
to whisper to each other the story of the ideal nymph whose
poetic name has bequeathed such interest to the fairy scene.
The flowers looked all so fresh in that bright day of early
spring ; and gemmed with the dewy spray which fell upon
it from the gushing fountain, the small-leafed trembling
celandine quivered beneath the diamond drops ; and now its
emerald green became more bright than ever, as the flicker-
ing sunbeams ever and anon stole in to play a moment
in this cool refreshing grotto, wdiile farther in, reclining in
deeper shadow, lay the broken figure still remaining, the
genius of the place ! Well might the poet say —

"Egeria! whate'er thou art or wert,
Thou wert a beautiful thought, — a sweet creation."

The wild flowers surpass anything I ever saw. Each step
we took trod upon violets, with their deep blue eyes peeping
out from the rich heritage: mignonette mingled its refined

isr, ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

sweetness with their fragrance ; the Star of Bethlehem with
its snowy purity ; the orchis in endless variety ; anemones of
every line, from the brightest scarlet and deepest crimson to
the most delicate white. Lizards darting with the quickness
of thought — hither — thither — everywhere ; butterflies so gay
and bright, one might think them flowers on the wing. The
"tuneful cicada" concealed among the grass, or perched upon
the branch of some shady tree, with clear shrill pipe singing
us welcome as we wandered past.

From the higher ground we looked again with admiration
that never wearies on the Campagna with its circling moun-
tains. The soft and pensive haze of beauty that hangs over
this wide and melancholy expanse seemed yet more touching
in that evening hour. Ere we reached the gates of the city,
it was the " Ave Maria," and the chimes rung out from every
church, — rising and falling on the ear, as the gentle night-
breeze wafted them.

It was a fitting close to a day so full of the enjoyment of
the beautiful both in Nature and in Art.

ST. JOHN LATEUAN.

p^text to St. Peter's, the venerable Basilica of

* St. John Lateran is, in many respects, the

finest in Borne ; and certainly that to which

is attached the most peculiar interest. It
J was the first Christian Church erected here ;
and it is on record that Constantino the Great
assisted with his own hands in digging the foun-
dations. It is further remarkable for Five Grene-
—j ral Councils held within it, which constitute important
eras in the history of the Church.
The facade is built of travertine, with ten fine columns
supporting a massive entablature and balustrade, on which
are colossal statues of our Lord and ten saints. The rich
mellow colour which age imparts to the travertine, adds not a
little to the general aspect of the edifice.

The interior has been several times changed, and at pre-
sent loses much of the imposing effect which its vast space
and fine nave would otherwise produce, from the stucco and
whitewashing with which the ceiling and the Avails have been
barbarously covered.

188 ART AND NATURE

The great ornament of the nave is the Corsini Chapel : it

is truly a superl) collection of all that is most gorgeous and
beautiful ! Highly finished ornaments of every description —
gilding, bas-reliefs, columns of marble almost with the trans-
parency of agate, and so precious that their cost cannot be
estimated ; sparkling gems, too, are not wanting ; and yet
there is an exquisite taste pervading the whole, which com-
pletely prevents the glare which so much magnificence might
otherwise occasion.

On one side of the Chapel is a celebrated porphyry sarco-
phagus, the Tomb of Clement XII., taken from the Pantheon.
Of the four figures which are placed in niches, one by Eusconi
pleased me particularly, from its simple grace ; but it wTas in
a little gloomy vaulted Chapel below, that we saw by far the
most interesting piece of sculpture. The group is cut out of
a single block of the very purest marble, and consists of the
Virgin Mary bending over the dead body of our Lord. It is
the only representation of the subject in marble I have seen,
in which both the expression of the features, and position of
the inanimate form of the Saviour, are at all satisfying. I
was exceedingly disappointed with the treatment of the same
subject by Michael Angelo, in St. Peter's, although so gene-
rally admired. The workmanship, no doubt, is fine ; but
even in this respect I cannot think Bernini's need yield ;
while in the latter, the unutterably touching expression of
the Virgin's face — the blending of earthly sorrow with Divine
consolation — excites the deepest interest and sympathy.

From the Church we went to the cloisters, which are good
specimens of the Gothic of the twelfth and thirteenth cen-
turies. The twisted columns, with the old mosaic ornaments
upon them, are very beautiful. A broken pillar is pointed
out, said by Church tradition to have been brought from

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. Is1.)

Jerusalem, and to have been thus split when the veil of the
Temple was rent in twain. Attached to the Basilica is a fine
portico, where the " Scala Santa" is placed. This far-famed
staircase consists of twenty-eight marble steps, brought, it is
said, from the house of Pontius Pilate, and the identical
stairs by which the Saviour descended when he was taken
from the judgment-hall. It is impossible to look at, and to
tread upon those steps without a feeling of deep and peculiar
interest ; for so positive, and, so far as I am aware, unques-
tioned is the tradition relating to them, and at the same time
so far from improbable in itself, that I do not see why we
should refuse to receive it. To protect the marble from being
actually worn away by the multitudes who are continually
ascending these steps upon their bare knees, it has been
found necessary to cover them over with a wooden casing ;
and this, we were told, has already been several times re-
newed. 1 certainly felt, as I watched the poor penitents
slowly ascending in this humble attitude, that however
mistaken their motives for so doing, yet that this was the
fitting posture in which to recall, in the presence of this
memorial, that which caused the foot of the Son of God
once to rest there !

In a Chapel at the top of the " Scala Santa," is a portrait
of our Lord, attributed to St. Luke, and supposed to have
been taken when He was twelve years of age !

The Baptistery of this Basilica formerly contained the
immense porphyry font (but very lately indeed removed to
the Vatican) in which Constantino received the rite of bap-
tism. In this same font Rienzi bathed on the night of
August 11, 1347 — the night before he shewed himself with
his badges of knighthood, ami was crowned in this Church
with the symbolical seven crowns.

PICTURE GALLERIES.

i ome days have been regularly devoted to
systematic sight-seeing, and a very fatiguing
v'~ tiling I must own it to he, even with all its
{ enjoyments; nay, I almost think it is when
one sits down quietly to arrange one's recol-
lections, and class them under different heads,
that the greatest amount of enjoyment is felt.
Be that as it may, I must see how far, without
\ wearisome repetition, I can record the most prominent
^2-y' features of what I have seen.

I find it difficult, even with all my love for paintings, to
sketch them with my pen, some of those I most admire
possessing a kind of beauty which nothing but a pencil
dipped in a Raphael's colours can pourtray, or a Rogers' pen
can describe. Yet my own little cabinet would seem blank
without, at least, an outline of them.

The Borghese Gallery must take the first place therein ;
and I will begin with the " Entombment of Christ," the
first historical picture by Raphael, and painted by him when
in his twenty-fourth year. As usual with this great artist,

ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 191

the spectators' personal sympathies are irresistibly appealed
to by the passions depicted. Perhaps one of the first objects
on which the mind dwells, is the mother's anguish. She
sees the Saviour borne to the sepulchre, his lifeless body
about to be laid in the " new tomb." She had stood near
him through his dying agony, and received his farewell of
tender care as He bequeathed her to the disciple " whom he
loved." " Last at the cross and earliest at the tomb," she
never left him while life remained. But now that his life-
less body is borne away, the mother of Jesus for the first
time gives way to her own sorrow, and falls back well-nigh
as lifeless as her Lord.

There is something so natural in the imagined filling up of
the sacred story by the painter in this picture, that one
cannot but go along with him in all he has defined. Scarcely
less touching is the intense grief of St. Peter, St. John, and
Mary Magdalene, whilst the gathering together of these
three — " the disciple whom Jesus loved," and the two whom
our Lord himself described as " loving much, for much had
been forgiven them," adds much to the truthful expression of
the whole.

The picture which most fascinated me, after the one I
have described, is so different, that perhaps it should not
come immediately after a subject taken from Sacred Scrip-
ture ; yet no other gave me anything like the same degree
of pleasure, though pleasure of another kind. In naming
this, I must at the same time speak of one bearing the same
name in the Capitol, and indeed the finer of the two ; yet are
their expressions strangely different. The beauty of this face
is more touching, more innocent. She is younger, — fairer.
In the Sybil of the Capitol, — as I looked into the depths of
her dark eyes, so wild, so lustrous — I fancied her in the cave

192 ART AND NATURE

which boars her name, the light of torches flashing on her
mystic jewels, lier many tinted robes, her high white brow;
whilst her voice echoed through that vaulted cavern, as she
gave forth her oracles. Yes ; she is the Sybil of the Cumean
Cave. But for this fair timid girl, with her almost childlike
beauty, her eyes seem questioning the stars, as though she
were not yet content. It is truth methinks she seeks with
that earnest thoughtful gaze. There is sublimity in her lone-
liness, in her youth, in her fond but vain superstition. It is
a picture to dwell on in the still and solemn night, not in the
garish light of day.

There are two others which must not be wholly passed by :
the one by Domenichino, " The Chase of Diana ;" the colour-
iii"- is brilliant, but as a whole, it is devoid of that dignity
and purity which usually distinguish this Master. The other
is by Titian, " Sacred and Profane Love," an allegorical re-
presentation : two female figures sitting on the side of a well,
one clothed in white, the other with red drapery over the
shoulder. In colouring it is worthy of the artist.

And yet another noted picture there is here, — " St. An-
thony preaching to the Fishes :" to me it is positively ludicrous.
The saint, a most commonplace looking mortal, perched
upon a rock, with a green sky above and around him. It
looks like the sea reflected in the sky, instead of vice versa ;
and why not, upon an occasion so marvellous ? Meanwhile
the fishes are evidently not much impressed with the saint's
eloquence, and seem rather inclined to keep at a respectful
distance. I have no patience with such a picture as this. I
could forgive it were it designed to excite a smile ; but to see
people gravely discussing such a subject in the same room
with those other glorious creations, is a great trial of my
equanimity.

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. L93

I have spent almost too long a time in the Borghese niches
of my cabinet, and therefore pass by all others, and proceed
to the Palazzo Berberini, famed as possessing one of the
marvels of Kome — the Cenci of Guido. Little need is there
for me to dwell on that face, since once seen it is not likely
to be forgotten ; and yet it is not of its mere beauty I would
speak, for it is not one of surpassing loveliness. Moreover,
there is a greenish tint in the shading round the mouth which
detracts yet more from it in this respect ; though if designed
to pourtray the wan look of confinement and despair, its effect
is most successful. There is an expression of gentleness, of
patient submission to her sad lot, which is even more striking
than the blank despair one might have expected. There is,
too, an utter carelessness in the whole of her attire, in the folds
of the heavy white drapery from which her hair has partially
escaped, while the golden gleam Avhich has not yet faded
from its rich tresses, only contrasts the more strongly with
those lustreless eyes which can weep no more ! It is a sad-
dening picture, and one I had no wish to dwell on, notwith-
standing its pathos and its interest.

I did not much admire the Fornarina in this room ; at any
rate, it is somewhat coarse, and looks yet more so beside the
refined and delicate Beatrice Cenci. I turned to a portrait
possessing peculiar attraction for me, viz., one of Cola Rienzi.
The charm with which the pen of Bulwer has invested this
noble Roman, was scarce needed to increase the kind of
veneration with which I contemplated this authentic repre-
sentation of the Last of the Tribunes.

On the morning of another of our sight-seeing days, M

wrote to fix the hour for calling with D to take us to

the Palazzo Sciarra, a small gallery, containing not only
very choice pictures, but very few inferior ones. Many of

194 AliT A.ND NATURE

them are well known, and have had more justice done to
their merits in the copies that have heen produced from
them, than is generally the case. Moreover, there is no
doubt but that some pictures are more easily given in engrav-
ings than others.

I enjoy greatly visiting galleries of art with D ; not

only is his taste correct and cultivated in appreciating the
artistic beauty of a painting, hut he also enters into its spirit
in a way after my own heart.

Here is that marvellous picture of Leonardo da Vinci,
" Modesty and Vanity," two female half figures : the former,
with a veil over her head, has a particularly noble and digni-
fied profile, with a clear open expression. She beckons to
her sister, who is fronting you, gaily attired, and with a
smile half mischievous, half self-satisfied with the lovely face
she has just seen reflected in the small looking-glass which she
holds in her hand. It is all most wonderfully finished, and
the colouring peculiarly rich. A magnificent Titian next
attracted me : one of the female figures especially is as
splendid a piece of colouring as can be conceived, differing
from, though scarcely surpassing, that of the Leonardo I
have just noticed. These pictures somehow seem to set off
the several beauties of each other, they are so perfect in their
different styles. This may be said of the Magdalen of Guido,
another lovely face, with the peculiar character of Guide's
ideal of female beauty strongly defined. The Violin Player,
by Raphael, is too well known to need any detail, and it is
not a picture from which either to draw a moral or to weave
a tale : the soft fur collar of the velvet cloak tempts to pass
one's hand over it ; but there is no poetry in it. The " Gam-
blers cheating," by Caravaggio, is that sort of picture which
is made disagreeable by very faithfulness to its subject.

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. l<jr,

From this Palace we paid another visit to the Palazzo
Doria, and on this occasion, as M and D purposed

calling upon the Princess Doria, I had an opportunity of
seeing the private apartments. These are not only furnished
with the utmost taste which a combination of English com-
fort and Italian magnificence can exhibit, but possess one or
two paintings of rare beauty. They are, generally speaking,
portraits, and therefore description would be out of place. I
was particularly struek with the effect of four rooms en suite,
in which the hangings were of colours the most strongly con-
trasted ; green, gold, crimson, and rich blue, with the orna-
ments in each corresponding.

Again we lingered to examine the treasures to be found
among the numerous paintings in this immense gallery.
Chiefest among these are the unrivalled Claude Lorraines,
known by the names of the Molino and Temple of Apollo.
It is not easy to describe a landscape painting, but one longs
to sit beneath the shade of those trees, so powerful is the
effect of the haze of heat shed over the distant mountains.
One feels the languor of the hour. Glowing under the fervid
rays, even the very water seems as though it would fail to
cool. With a sensation as from the dewy breath of evening
one turns next to the sunset which has gilded the Temple
of Apollo, and the irresistible acknowledgment rises in the
mind, that Claude was in truth a fitting painter for such a
land.

Not far from these is a St. Agnes, by Guercino, a face
such as one sometimes dreams of— a beauty with more of
heaven than earth in its expression. Here, too, is a cele-
brated landscape, " the Belisario," by Salvator Rosa, another
of Italy's painters, whose province was to pourtray her sterner
features. His chosen subjects are the mountain scene, the

196 AKT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

lonely defile, the rushing torrent, the eagle whirling round
its eyrie, the tear and strife of elements, or the deep impene-
trable forest, with its mysterious glades, its robbers' eaves and
hidden recesses. These he puts before you at once with
power and nature. In looking at Salvator Kosa's landscapes,
I have always an impression of loneliness and desolation,
almost of awe : especially as he generally introduces bandits,
or a hermit, or a wandering traveller. Truly he must have
had a living sympathy with all that is stern and wild.

VESPERS.

have had quite an adventure to-day, and
while my mind is full of it, I will record it.
I do think there never was such a cicerone

as 0 M ! How she contrives to

penetrate through the harriers even of cus-
todes and closed doors, I know not, hut certain it
is, that with her I am always sure of accomplish-
ing what I wish on these occasions. We agreed
to go together to the Vespers at St. Peter's ; and,
knowing that on this evening every usual approach to
the side-chapel, in which the service is performed, would at
an early hour he thronged, I feared we were rather late. She
smilingly reassured me, and having directed the coachman,
he drew up at a small entrance I had not previously noticed.
We got out here, and entered one of the aisles farthest from
the principal entrance into St. Peter's. The great gates of the
chapel itself were closed, and pressing eagerly against them,
stood the multitude waiting for admittance. As Ave had a few
minutes to wait here, while my friend sent in her card to one
of the ecclesiastics with whom she was acquainted, I turned

1','S ART AND NATURE

away from the crowd, and sauntered on alone towards the
high altar. I was musing on the silence and solitude that
reigned in tins part of the vast edifice, and contrasting it with
the bustle and confusion in that which I had left, when sud-
denly a voice fell on my ear — long unheard, yet familiar —
diie whose tune recalled the sunny hours and pleasant scenes
of earlier days ! Eagerly looking round, I observed a tall
graceful figure leaning on the arm of a distinguished looking
man. I hastily advanced to where they stood, and saw at a
glance I had not heen deceived. One word was enough, —
"Augusta!" A bright smile of recognition lighted up her
face ; and though long years had passed away since we met,
scenes and objects once familiar to us both — bygone hours of
light-hearted gaiety — dear mutual friends, who had shared
them with us, seemed all actually present once more !

There is, to me, an intense and peculiar enjoyment in such
an unlooked-for meeting with one who may be valued not
only as a personal friend, but whose very presence has a
power to unlock the chambers of memory, and bring forth
from thence the endeared associations of the past. But on

these neither of us had now time to linger ; 0 came almost

immediately to recall me, and hastily fixing an hour for
meeting on the following day, we parted, anticipating with
mutual pleasure this unexpected renewal of our intercourse.

Meanwhile, my friend's application had been answered in
person, by the Monsignore to whom it had been addressed.

0 , who speaks Italian beautifully, made known our

desire to secure a favourable place for enjoying the music ;

and, as soon as I had been introduced, Monsignore

requested us to follow him. He opened a door in one of
the square pillars in the side of the building, close to where
we were standing, so unexpectedly to me, that I was almost

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 199

startled. I scarcely think the minutest scrutiny could have
discovered any opening, it seemed so completely a part of the
stone pillar ; and as it noiselessly closed upon us, with many

rising recollections of mysterious tales, I followed with 0

through a narrow vaulted passage leading to a small ante-
chamber. Here we waited for a few moments, but not long-
enough to call for any exercise of patience. One of the offi-
cials presently approached, and desired us to follow him.
After another dark passage, we found ourselves at the inner
entrance to the chapel, where preparations for the service
were being made. It was with some degree of surprise, as
well as satisfaction, that we shortly found ourselves seated in
the very best position for hearing, and I may add for seeing
also, though that was of little consequence on this occasion.

We remained here upwards of half an hour, watching the
arrival of the Cardinals in full canonicals, before the doors
were thrown open and the eager crowd rushed in. It was,
indeed, a terrible rush, and we had reason to congratulate
ourselves on our good fortune. Yet this feeling lasted not
with me beyond the first few notes of the service. Little
should I have cared where I had been sitting or standing, so
that my ears could have drank in the melodious sounds,
which ere long floated amid the white clouds of incense that
filled the chapel !

In one of the pauses which occurred, I for the first time
looked around me, and whom should I see standing at some
distance from me, in the very midst of the crowd, but dear

S , her lovely face paler than ever with mingled fatigue

and emotion. I instantly whispered to 0 to keep my

place for an instant, and edging myself by degrees through

the crowd, I insisted on S taking my seat. Scarcely was

this arrangement completed, ere once again we were each

Ill lit ART AND NATURE

absorbed in the witching melody. The mighty building it-
self seemed to tremble with the full bursts which came ever
and anon sweeping along, till aisle and arch were filled with
sound. And yet it was not this that reached my veiy soul !
No ! it was one single voice, — a voice such as dreams of
the music of the spheres might shadow forth. Now — soft
and low, it seemed hut its own sweet echo. Again — wild,
free, clear, it soared on high, seeming to cany one away
beyond the confines of earth, and there it floated like the
very spirit of the place. Sometimes it was alone, and thus
was its power even greatest ; and then again the silvery notes
rose clear and distinct above all other voices in the choir.
Never once did I lose a tone of that wliich was most beautiful,
where all were beautiful. I had been all tin's time so ab-
sorbed as scarcely to have glanced at those who were around
me ; and when at length I casually did so, little expected,
certainly, that my interest was to be so strongly awakened in
one of those who pressed against me in the densely crowded
spot. Amid the many well-dressed and fashionable persons
who thronged every seat and every standing place, and in
striking contrast to them, I was attracted by a venerable
looking old man, with hair as white as snow. He was
partly supported by a staff on which he leaned, but his feeble
limbs would have found it insufficient, had not a young girl
lent her strength on the other side. His face was a noble
one, spite of the ravages of time, and it might be of sorrow
too. His apparel, though faded and almost bare, yet in its
scrupulous neatness, spoke no less of decent care than of
poverty. Indeed none could look upon him and doubt that
once he had known other and brighter days. After 1 first
observed him, I noticed that it was only when the voice
resumed, which had already so enchained my own attention,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 201

that ho was moved. No matter how beautiful all else, his
ear seemed closed, and his head bowed upon his trembling
hands. But the moment the first and faintest tone of that
one of surpassing sweetness fell on the ear, his whole frame
awoke again to life and energy, and eagerly he endeavoured
to press ever nearer to the narrow portion of the chapel in
which alone the choir could be seen, as well as heard.

I was much interested in the old man, and the gentle srirl,
who appeared divided between her anxious care for him and
the same intense interest in that voice. I marvelled whether
it was indeed its unrivalled power and sweetness that thus
breathed life even into the feeble frame of this aged man, —
that gave light to the eyes, and tinged with colour the faded
cheeks of the girl, whose countenance in repose told a tale of
labour and sorrow. Ere long I discovered that it was not
alone the music which thus powerfully affected both. Once,
when some change in the position of the singers caused a tall
slight figure to stand nearer to the front of the gallery, the girl
eagerly leaned forward, and looking intently on the pale face
thus revealed, she whispered something to the old man, and
he too fixed his eyes on the same form. And what a look of
devoted affection was that ! As he gazed, the big tears, all
unconsciously as it seemed, rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
During the next few moments, how many touching tales had
I not woven, fitting adjuncts to such deep and tender affec-
tion ! I scarcely heard any of the intermediate portions of
the service, only the music gave impulse and colouring to the
thoughts this unexpected incident had called forth. But a
change came. Yet once more was that voice thrilling every
heart — once more were its echoes wafted through the vast
space around ; and as I watched the face, but now so pale
and calm and still, kindled as it were by the glow of thought

202 A.RT AND NATURE

which filled each note he uttered, and caught again the fixed
look of the old man, whose eyes were lighted with responsive
sympathy, it needed no vivid imagination to tell that it was
on a loved, it might he an only son he thus looked. The
voice melted away, — the last, softest whisper was hushed — and
the tall figure was gone. I turned to the old man and beheld
him elosc his eyes for a moment, and then placing his hand
within the arm of the young girl, I heard him murmur, as
he slowly withdrew from the place, whilst a sigh seemed
breathed from the very depths of his heart, u E jinito per me!"
I can scarcely tell how those sadly spoken words lingered on
my ear, — I seem to hear them even now ! I almost feared to
inquire ahout this father and son, lest some rude touch should
efface the mental picture I had drawn of both. But I have
since learned their real story ; and it is one which proves that
the poetry and pathos of real life may be more deeply affect-
ing than any tale of fiction.

The father was well-born, and with his two children had
lived in luxury. They were a happy and united family,
while the son was the idol of father and sister. His voice
from infancy had been their delight and pride, and doubtless
on many a moonlit eve, in their own fair home, had he sung
to them the native airs of Italy. But, alas ! in an evil hour,
and during one of those political outbreaks which so often
have brought ruin and desolation on all concerned, they lost
their all, and were cast helpless and neglected on the cold
pitiless world. Former acquaintances lost sight of them :
none knew whither they were gone : nor could any tell
whence came the noble-looking youth who sought instruction
previous to being received into the choir of St. Peter's. But
no sooner were his preparatory exercises completed, and he
had taken his place among that chosen band, than his exqui-

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 20.",

site voice was universally appreciated. His increasing fame
brought gain as well as distinction, and lie was enabled
wholly to support his now aged parent and his only sister.

This was their history ; but not all : there is yet one touch
of even deeper pathos. Very shortly after he entered on his
arduous duties, he was told that his frame could not long
support the physical exertion they demanded, while the
exhaustion he felt, when the excitement which sustained him
at the time passed away, too truly confirmed the fatal predic-
tion. He knew he should soon die, unless he gave up at
once his long cherished and now attained desire. And why
does he hesitate ? Is it the sweet cup of fame that he has
just raised to his lips that he cannot put aside ? Is it his
enthusiastic love for those sacred melodies that flow like
inspiration from him, that refuses to be controlled, even
though his expiring breath should be given to them ? It is
none of these ! On the breath of his lips, in very truth it
may be said, depends the sole support of those he loves !
His aged father's life is fist drawing to a close : the sands
are running low : and shall he prolong his own numbered
days at the cost of even one of h is ? No ! he would not
suffer a whisper of his state to reach his father's ears. Is it
wonderful, that while tears filled my eyes at this most
touching tale, I recalled the old man's sigh, and thought of
another and a sadder meaning which those murmured words
might so soon bear — " Efinito per me .'"

THE CATACOMBS.

ccording to an arrangement very kindly made

for me, I one day accompanied S and

some friends to the Catacombs.

Through their acquaintance with Dr.
Grant, the head of the Scottish Koman Ca-
tholic College, and a very influential person, we
obtained permission to visit one of these burial-
places which had only lately been discovered and
opened up, and from which, consequently, a great por-
tion of the bodies had not been removed. We were
the only Protestants who had been allowed as yet to enter, for
usually, until the bodies and the various relics entombed with
them, which are supposed to designate the remains of mar-
tyrs, have been removed, none but good Catholics are suffered
to set foot within the sacred precincts. Of course the interest
attaching to these remains was far greater in such a case as
this ; since one not only saw the places where they had been
laid, but in two instances, at least, we looked into the freshly
opened tomb. Several times we saw the little phials which
had been placed beside them, still red with what is supposed.

ART AND NATURE UNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. 205

by those better able to determine the likelihood of such a
point than I am, to be the blood of the saints of God slain in
the cause of truth.

In the centre of a vineyard, some way beyond the walls, we
came to a low door with an inscription over it, to the purport
that none were to enter without the permission of those
authorized to give it. Each of us in succession received a
long wax-taper, the guide providing himself with several, and
we proceeded in silence along the narrow vaulted passages.
There was something awful in thus penetrating into the
abodes of the dead. After a very little advance, we came to
places where were the bones and skulls of those who had
been buried there in times when even the tomb, unless thus
concealed, secured not the senseless clay from the bitter fury
of relentless persecutors. Sometimes there were three or four
tiers or shelves on either side, entirely covered with these
mouldering remains of mortality, and occasionally whole
skeletons were to be seen.

Who could stand in such a place, and not feel the very
nothingness of earth and all its interests, its pleasures, pomp,
and splendour, compared with the inheritance purchased by
Him whose promises alone can take the sting from that king
of terrors, whose ruthless power was evidenced at every step !

The guide stopped before a tomb, and Dr. Grant, calling
us round him, pointed out the sign of a martyr's resting-place,
— one whose very name at once carried the thoughts beyond
the gloom and darkness of the grave, beyond even the fiery
trial of the last earthly scene. A palm-branch was the
chosen emblem ; and was it not expressive ! Was it not that
sorrowing friends might thy the tears which dimmed the eye,
and learn to look, in faith renewed and strengthened, into
that heaven above where rest and triumph is now their por-

200 ART AM) NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

tiun — to think of them there, clothed in "the white robes,"
which are " given them that were slain for the Word of God,
and for the testimony that they held," — with crowns of gold
upon their heads, and " palms in their hands," crying, " Sal-
vation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, and unto the
Laml » for ever ! "

Dr. Grant directed the guide to take from several of these
opened sepulchres of the martyrs, a little roughly formed
lamp, which seems to have been placed beside each tomb,
probably by those friends who may have lighted it when
they visited the spot where those dear to them were laid, —
when they came to " the grave to weep there." Even this
little earthen vessel seemed to speak of comfort, and to re-
mind one, amid these dark and gloomy recesses, that where
those blessed spirits now are, they need " no light, neither
the sun nor the moon, for the Lord God doth give them
light." Dr. Grant gave us each one of these little lamps, and
an interesting relic I shall ever regard it.

It was touching to notice marks of affection sometimes
found recorded. On one marble slab was roughly, but
legibly engraved,

" Flavins Filius carissimus."

How strange was it to read words traced, in all probability,
either at the time or very shortly after St. Paul yet lived and
spoke in Rome ! In many places, crosses were the only mark
upon the tomb, — an emblem then which it needed Christian

courage and constancy to own !

MUSEUM OF THE CAPITOL.

it now stands

he Museum of the Capitol is a rich treasury
of relics and works of art, gathered out of all
ages and from all quarters.

Passing the Basalt Lionesses at the foot
of the central steps, and the Columna Mil-
liaria, or first milestone of the Appian Way,
we came to the noble equestrian statue of Mar-
cus Aurelius, placed by Michael Angelo where
A precious relic of art is tins sole
specimen of an ancient equestrian statue in bronze ;
and as one observes the dignity of the emperor's figure,
as well as the bold free attitude of the horse, the admir-
ation with which Michael Angelo regarded it is easily
understood.

First, among the treasures of antiquity here assembled,
must stand the Bronze Wolf of the Capitol, though cer-
tainly more to be noticed as an object of curiosity than of
beauty.

Among the busts, is one of Michael Angelo which I looked
at with interest, said to be sculptured by himself. The head

208 ART AND NATURE

is of bronze, and the bust of white marble. This mixture of
colour and material appears strange to the unaccustomed
eye ; and though there are several beautiful works of art bo
composed, yet their beauty, I am inclined to think, is in
spite of such a mixture rather than because of it. I admired
a statue, in Nero Antico, of Esculapius, and also two Centaurs
found in Hadrian's Villa, which are greatly valued by anti-
quaries. In this same villa was also found the Mercury,
called the Antinous, now in the Museum of the Capitol,
which surpasses in beauty that in the Vatican, though it in
its turn must yield the palm to one of the same name,
crowned with lotus leaves, which adorns at this day the
exquisite collection made by Winckelmann, at the Villa
Albani. In one of the halls of sculpture, there is a sarco-
phagus with bas-reliefs from ancient mythology. On one
side is a group of figures, so full of life and passion as to
exceed anything of the kind I ever saw. A soldier, belonging
to the conquering army, is dragging an Amazon from her
horse. The mingling of a courage which causes her still to
struggle with her captor, with a hopeless despair beginning
to steal over her, is pourtrayed with a power which gives the
liveliest interest to the group.

But for me the Capitol possessed attractions apart even
from its classic treasures and earliest associations. It was of
Eienzi, that noble champion of freedom, I thought most in
my visits here ! I had already traced out the different locali-
ties connected with his eventful history. I had stood beside
the ruins of his house, — had looked on the Church which bore
his first poetical appeal to the Roman people, — had followed
him, in imagination, as he led them on to freedom, at the
sound of the Great Bell of the Capitol. I had fancied him,
when his visions of power were realized, as he might have

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 209

trod the marble halls of the Colonna Palace, in the neigh-
bourhood of which much of his humble youth was spent ;
and now here before me was the celebrated table of Ves-
pasian, on which, as the model of his own purposed laws
and government, he explained to the haughty nobles the
power of the people. And here, too, the lion 'which saw
his wondrous triumph, and, alas ! witnessed also his cruel
fall ! The only spot I scarce could look upon was the
window in the Capitol at which he, Eienzi — but now their
idol and their pride, asked only justice from his fellow-
citizens, and asked in vain !

" His reign was brilliant — like those meteor stars
Whose glory dazzles, falls, and disappears ;

Or like the transient lights in summer seen.

That flitting, leave no trace where they have been."

With eager anticipation I entered the hall wherein is the
dying Gladiator. What an instance of the wondrous power
of sculpture is here displayed — its power of carrying the
mind far beyond what the eye looks on ! It is not an im-
pression of mere physical suffering that is made by the sight
of that form ; neither is it admiration. Scarce a thought
even of the marvellous faithfulness to nature which it ex-
hibits can find a place. I only longed to see him lay
him down to sleep — even though the sleep of death ! It
is not bodily agony which marks those features and furrows
that brow ; that is forgotten now ! He is withdrawn from
all present feeling — all circumstances around. His thoughts
are wandering far away. The quiet sadness of a mental fare-
well to beloved scenes and objects is softening and subduing
his spirit, ere death's darkness sinks down upon him ! But
no pen save his who has already told it, must touch that
tale of anguish.

210 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN" SKY.

" He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away.
I!, : KM qoI of the life he lost, nor prize ;
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young' barbarians all at play ;
There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday."

BRACCIANO.

April o.

|j| , his day was fixed by D fur a long-

talked-of expedition to the Lake and Castle
of Bracciano, about twenty-five miles from
Borne. As we had to start very early, and
could not return till long after sunset at any

rate, W was obliged to give up the idea of

going. M therefore called for me, and we

proceeded to the Via Ripetta to take up Lady

— . At the Porta del Popolo we were joined by

who had been collecting his forces, and soon

got under weigh. M , Lady G — ■ — , and I, with Prince

L , were in one carriage ; the rest of the party were in

the M s' barouche. The road to La Storta is good, and

the four horses took us there in less than an hour. We there
found relays of horses waiting for us, and soon after turned
off the high-road.

The scenery meanwhile disappointed us all, being exceed-
ingly barren and desolate, so we tried to console ourselves by
being very agreeable to each other. Even the extreme bad-
ness of the road helped to relieve its tediousness, for it was

D-

212 ART A.ND NATURE

amusing to hear the exclamations that ever and anon broke
forth involuntarily, as a tremendous jolt dashed us one against
the other. For my own part, I could have dispensed with
the amusement, for it soon became positively frightful ; and

on one occasion even Prince L believed the carriage must

be upset. Still we persevered, and with careful driving, and
daylight to guide us, there was no actual danger. Not veiy
far from Bracciano is the deserted town of Galera, above the
valley of the Arrone. Many of its houses are built in the
Gothic style of the thirteenth century, at which period it
belonged to the Orsini family. The wralls surrounding it, and
some of the dwellings, are more than two centimes older.
The site has been utterly deserted for many generations on
account of malaria, so that it is now in nuns. The situation
is very romantic, and there is something awful in the com-
plete silence and desolation around. Not a single living-
creature of any kind is to be seen, — nothing but skeletons of
houses, their gaunt outlines half hidden by the most luxuriant
wreaths of ivy, wild vines, and tangled briars, whose graceful
festoons seemed as though designed to deck the tombs of the
vietims who have perished there ! It is a striking instance
of the power of this unseen agent of death, and reminded me
of the lovely Lake of Bolsena, whose shores are made desolate
by the same scourge.

Be}*ond Galera, the road — if such a wild track may be
dignified by the name — traverses a bare and dreary district,

recalling both to me and to D many a wrild heathery

moor in Scotland. Indeed, for some time, we laughed at

D , and told him it was this resemblance to his beloved

"Caledonia stern and wild" that had lent such energy to his
] iraises of Bracciano, the wondrous attractions of which he
had discovered during a hunt which had led him into its

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 213

vicinity. Farther and farther still we went, yet not only, as
it seemed, no nearer Bracciano, but as far as ever from the
beautiful scenery we were led to expect. At length, however,
some of the party proclaimed the welcome intelligence that it
was in sight ; and certainly a finer scene of the kind could
not he easily imagined.

At some distance, on a very commanding eminence, rose
the frowning battlements of this feudal castle. In hold relief
against the sky the huge pile of building stood out ; and at
its base we were soon able to distinguish a cluster of low
houses forming a tolerably large village. A turn in the road
brought us in sight of the lake, and at that moment all
agreed that we were rewarded even for the long drive, the
uninteresting country, and the worst of roads bjr which we
had reached Bracciano.

The whole landscape was one peculiarly calculated to seize
on the imagination, combining, as it did, so much to excite
the fancy — carrying it back to feudal ages, and at the same
time, so much of the exquisite softness and loveliness of an
Italian scene.

The lake, which is in the immediate vicinity of the castle,
is about twenty-five miles in circumference, but appeared to
be more, from the misty haze which hung over the more
distant parts. As we saw it first, it was clear and placid,
without a ripple on its glassy surface, and only darkened by
the deep shade of the castle or of the overhanging trees. The
huge basin which contains this fine sheet of water, presents all
the characteristics of an extinct crater, while its shores have
all the picturesque variety and boldness which usually belong-
to volcanic rocks. It is supposed to be the Lacus Sabatinus
of the Komans, and to have derived that name from the
ancient Etruscan city, Sabate, said to have been submerged

214 ART AND NATURE

by the water of the lake ; so that the time of its existence as
a volcano must be distant indeed.

The castle assumed every moment a sterner and more
magnificent grandeur as we approached, and began to wind
up the tremendously steep eminence on the top of which it
stands. So steep was the road, that after the first part had
been accomplished, the horses refused to drag our carriage up
the second, or rather were unable to do so, for the poor
animals struggled hard, and almost fell ere they gave it up.
Few things make me more nervous than the danger of a
carriage rolling back, from obstinacy or want of power in the
horses. On this occasion it woidd have been a serious matter,
and therefore I gladly seized a moment when it was stationary

to jump out, and help M to do the same. When every

one had alighted, we walked to the vaulted entrance which
led from the first large court which we had already reached,
to the smaller one immediately around the castle. Nothing
could more perfectly realize one's ideas of a feudal dwelling
and feudal times than Bracciano ; and I was not surprised
to learn, that Sir Walter Scott had derived more pleasure
from a visit to this castle than from almost any other place
in Italy. Truly it seems well fitted for the scene of some
wild, mysterious stoiy of romance, such as he would weave.

The 1 »uilding stands on the rocky eminence, — almost a part
i >f the rock itself, the side next the lake rising abruptly and
perpendicularly from the water to the first terrace. Four
lofty towers, each with a separate winding stair, and secret
means of communication, rise from the four sides. The whole
edifice is built of black volcanic stone, and its battlements,
terraces, and Gothic windows are in good preservation. I
have never before seen a building formed of stones of so black
a colour, and doubtless this sombre hue increases the solemn

CJNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 215

and imposing effect of its size, height, and impregnable
strength. It looks a place for deeds of darkness and of dread.
In spite of the romantic ideas which I believe we all more
or less indulged in, it was carried, without a dissenting voice,
that we should first adjourn to the kitchen, and attack the
stores of M. le Cuisinier, whom D ■ had providently dis-
patched some two or three hours in advance. The scene was
not bad, as we all gathered round the various baskets, and
seemed to afford infinite amusement to sundry men, women,
and children, who had assembled to stare at the unwonted

visitors. After we had recruited ourselves a little, D

called a council of state to deliberate on the proceedings of
the clay. It was just half-past twelve o'clock, and, as we had
abundance of time before us, it was settled that the earlier
we dined the better, as the roads in returning would be abso-
lutely impassable in the dark. To meet every one's wishes,
half-past three was named as the hour for assembling in the
gloomy old hall, once more" to make it resound with the mirth
of an entertainment. This momentous point settled, we
summoned a picturesque damsel as our guide among the
winding stairs, and endless narrow passages, which promised
to be not a little confusing. The views from the towers were
really magnificent, — extending over a vast range of country.
The richness and luxuriant beauty of the part immediately
around the castle, especially on the side opposite to that by
which we had approached, together with the glittering sheet
of water spread out below, entirely relieved the barrenness of
the far distance. The day, and the state of the atmosphere
too, wTere peculiarly favourable for such a prospect. There
was not a bright unclouded Italian sky, but fitfnl gleams of
sun-light, casting a passing radiance on different parts of the
landscape, now revealing, now hiding them from view, with

216 ART AND NATURE

never-ending variety. There seemed a weight in the atmo-
sphere tliat suggested fears of a eoniing storm, though an hour
afterwards, when the sun again shone out for a little, we
forgot our apprehensions, and extended our walk along the
margin of the lake.

I was particularly struck with the view from one point
here, the assemblage of objects was so much in character with
the whole nature and associations of the place. It was a
scene which Salvator Kosa would have chosen for his pencil.
The black, frowning mass of building in the foreground ; the
mysterious caverns to the right of the narrow gateway, from
whence volumes of smoke rolled out and hung heavily in the
air, while every now and then flashes of lurid flame burst
through them, and human figmes were seen flitting to and
fro. In the distance, dark lowering clouds were creeping up
from the west ; in front of us lay the waters of the lake in
leaden stillness ; and the pine trees which here abound, — those
sombre children of the forest which always impart something
of melancholy and of sternness to the landscape — stood motion-
less in the breezeless air. All was hushed, save at intervals,
when there came a low soft sound, almost like a sigh of sor-
row, as the wind, awaking for a moment, passed through the
1 (ranches of the tall pines, and, dying in a distant murmur,
left all again silent ! Any one who loves as I do that sorrowT-
fu] vet soothing sound will appreciate those lines of Taylor's,
which naturally occurred to my memory : —

"The Wind, when first lie rose and went abroad
Through the waste region, felt himself at fault —
Wanting a voice, ami suddenly to earth

Descended

Where, wandering volatile from kind to kind,
lie wooed the several trees to give him one.

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY.

Lastly, the Pine

Did he solicit, and from her he drew
A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep,
That there he rested : welcoming in her
A mild memorial of the ocean-cave
Where he was horn."

It was proposed that we should first go to the caverns we
had observed, though we knew that the romance, with which
we had invested them, would be dispelled as soon as the iron-
foundry, which in fact they were, was reached.

From this we strayed on through the wildest, loveliest
paths — flowers breathing perfume on every side, — now crossing
a little pebbly brook flowing onwards to contribute its mite
to the lake below, — now wandering in a shady wood, where
the earlier trees had already put on the first bright hue of
spring, — and then, again, climbing over rocks and huge masses
of stone, hurled down by the torrent in its winter fury. The
little glen we reached at length was a perfect garden of
beauty. Large trees of myrtle, laurustinus, ilex, the Judas-
tree with its lovely lilac flowers without leaves, and thou-
sands of fruit-trees in full bloom, as in an English orchard in
the month of May. We walked on till we reached the lake ;
but whilst still lingering by its shores, gathering violets and
many a lovely wild flower, it began to rain, and we were
forced to remember how far we had wandered. Meanwhile
some donkeys were sent for to assist the wearied, but only one
could be found, and that with a man's saddle. Upon this,
however, by turns we mounted, managing to sit as best we
might, with the help of the one short stirrup we could make
use of, — Prince L acting as muleteer.

It was already long past the hour named for dinner when
we reached the Castle, and even then further delay took
place, so that it was nearly five o'clock before we sat down.

218 ART AND NATURE

Rapidly passed the time, and it was six o'clock ere we be-
thought ourselves how late it was. I was by no means com-
fortable, not only at the idea of travelling by that road in the

dark, but from knowing how anxious W would be wore

we long delayed. As the rain still continued, it was arranged
that we laches should occupy the closed carriage, the gentle-
men following in the barouche. On we went, tolerably
well for about half an hour; then came the first stoppage,
which was made for the purpose of lighting the lamps. This
done, we moved on again, but scarcely another half hour had
passed when a second halt was called. By this time it was
pitchy dark ; the short twilight had quickly passed, and was
succeeded, not only by the darkness of night, but the black-
ness of a storm. And now down came the rain in torrents,
whilst blacker and blacker closed in the heavy clouds. The
post-boys declared they could not see their horses' heads, and
would not stir an inch further ; — a pretty plight truly to be
in ! A wild black moor, uninhabited unless by bandits ;
an almost impassable road ; a perfect hurricane of rain
and wind, and presently a thunderstorm added to all else !
We had torches with us it is true, but vain were the most
persevering efforts to kindle them. It was difficult to deter-
mine what was to be done. At last a star of hope, as it
seemed to us, shone out in the distance, and as it drew nearer,
proved to be the lamp in the char-a-banc of the cook, better
]~>laced, it would seem, for security against the storm than our
own. The vehicle passed us as directed, and we found great
advantage for a little while in following it ; but ere long, —
borne to us by the wind, came sundry loud shouts, and look-
ing back, we saw with dismay the barouche at some distance
upset, as it appeared by the position of its two twinkling
lights. In a few moments D ran up to tell us that a

UNDER AX ITAI.IAX SKY. 219

carriage-spring had broken, but that they were all safe. The
rain continued to pour in torrents, the thunder rolled, while
every moment the heavens were illumined by vivid flashes
of lightning. Of course, long before we could call out to stop
it, the char-a-banc, with its guiding star, was far beyond
recall. Suddenly a gust of wind, of extra violence, extin-
guished three of the lamps belonging to the two carriages, so
that now one little flickering light was our forlorn hope.
This was, indeed, a crisis in the adventure ! For full twenty

minutes did D stand beneath the partial shelter of our

ill-closed carriage, trying to relight the other lamps, succeed-
ing at length just as patience, and a whole box of lucifer
matches were alike all but exhausted ! But even when this
was achieved there was the broken carriage to be patched up,
so as at least to enable it to proceed. Once more we crept
on, every instant expecting to share the fate of our compa-
nions, so tremendous were the jerks, whilst one or other of
the horses was on the ground every few paces. Yet deliberate
as our advance had been, great was the dismay on looking
back, after a little while, to discover that our unhappy friends
were no longer within sight ! Hereupon ensued a most edify-
ing instance of the extreme coolness and nonchalance some-
times to be met with in Italian servants, — perhaps I should
rather say in this class of them. At the veiy outset, Filippo,

D 's ItnjiKn'.s <le place^ had shewn considerable ingenuity

in establishing himself in the snuggest corner of the box, be-
neath the shelter of a huge umbrella, imperturbably main-
taining his position all the time of the endeavour to light the
lamps. But at such a moment as this, we of course expected
he would feel called upon at least to go and see if he could
be of any sendee to his master. Not a movement did he
make. Finding it hopeless to expect an}T spontaneous act of

220 ART AM) NATURE I'NDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

the kind, M quietly suggested,—" Filippo, pourquoi

n'allez vous pas voir ce qui en est ?" With an inimitable
" E — eh !" he replied, " Madame, a quoi bon ? assurement
je serais tout mouille." " Eh Lien ! et que pensez vous est

M. le M ?" rejoined M , with only too little severity,

yet not expecting further delay. With indescribable non-
chalance, and a shrug which in itself spoke volumes, he

answered, " Ah, mais pour M. le M , il a un bon

manteau, lui ! le mien, voyez, c'est en chiffons ! " It is
nothing when simply related, and without the accompani-
ment of the scene, the voice, the manner. Though exces-
sively annoyed, and anxious about the missing carriage, it
was scarcely possible to refrain from laughing at such perfec-
tion of cool selfishness. Notwithstanding, I soon took it upon
myself to inform Monsieur Filippo, that if he did not descend

instantly, M. le M should hear of it. This produced the

effect of causing him slowly to raise himself from his seat ;
and grumbling out something, in which " Bracciano" and
"inferno" seemed in very emphatic juxtaposition, he at length
proceeded towards the carriage, just as it was approaching.

It would be tedious to enumerate all the stoppages which
took place, but at last the rain ceased, the storm died away,
the stars looked out on the deep and quiet night, and ere
lonsr we learned, with 'thankfulness, that we had reached La
Storta.

There the broken carriage was exchanged, and fresh horses
and smooth roads relieved us from all our discomforts. In
little more than an hour we entered Koine, and having

dropped Lady G , Prince L , and Mr. H , at

their respective abodes, we drove to Capo le Case, where most
gladly I alighted at my own. It was between one and two
o'clock in the morning.

RECEPTION IN THE COLONNA PALACE.

hkough D 's acquaintance with the Prince

Torlonia, who by the way is also Duca cli
Braceiano, and possessor of that noble baro-
nial castle, we received an invitation to a
grand " reception" in the Palazzo Colonna7
given in honour of a member of that family, who
had just been raised to the dignity of Cardinal.
On these occasions, it is customary for the
nearest relative to give a series of such entertainments,
T' for the purpose of introducing the Cardinal elect.
The first is usually the most magnificent, as then the noble
families in Rome are present, in all the array of full dress,
diamonds, orders, and such like.

We thought ourselves fortunate in seeing, on so brilliant
an occasion, the Colonna Palace, which possesses the most
splendid hall in Rome. Moreover, the lovely Princess Tor-
lonia, a near relation to the new Cardinal, was to do the
honours of the evening, and, by her well-known grace and
beauty, to give, as we anticipated, a perfect finish to the whole.
I had agreed to chaperone 0 and A M , and

222 ART AND NATURE

accordingly called for them about eight o'clock in the evening.
The street leading to the palace, and the court before it
were lighted up, and bands of military music were perform-
ing ; the whole wearing a gay and festive appearance.
Ascending the wide marble stairs common to all Italian
palaces, and passing through the vast halls, we came to the
suite of rooms in which the numerous attendants were ready
to receive and announce the arrival of the guests. In the
third of these stood the beautiful hostess and the new Cardi-
nal. Never did 1 behold a more dazzling form than that of
the Princess ! Her diamonds were almost of fabulous mag-
nificence and number. A tiara of matchless splendour
encircled her brow, whilst epis of corn fastened up the luxu-
riant plaits of hair behind. Rows of these gems were round
her throat and arms, while a girdle of smaller ones confined
at the waist the gorgeous dress she wore, terminating in a
cord and tassels which reached nearly to her feet. With
every graceful movement, gleams of dazzling brilliance flashed
from her, and yet withal her own beauty shone with only the
purer lustre amidst it ; and more beautifully bright than any
diamonds were her eyes, lighted up with pleasure and kindly
feeling, as she came forward to welcome her guests.

After a few words from the host and hostess, addressed to
each, we advanced to the great hall ; and surely of all the
scenes of magic splendour which one has seen or read of, no-
thing could well surpass this as it opened upon us !

The hall itself, upwards of one hundred and fifty feet in
length, is lined with beautiful marbles, while transverse rows
of pillars of gicdlo antico portion off a kind of raised vestibule
at either end. Thousands of wax-lights were ranged along
the walls, and clustered round the columns — the polished
marble reflecting them again and again as in a mirror.

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY.

Several of the other Princesses wore very splendid dia-
monds also ; those of the Princess Borghese were particularly
fine, and tastefully arranged. The innumerable lights brought
out the refulgence of the sparkling gems, and when to these
were added the variety and beauty of the dresses, amid which
the extraordinary richness of the Hungarian costume, worn
by several noblemen, was conspicuous, as were several others
marking the official rank or nationality of the wearer, the
effect, in splendour and gay colouring, was indeed perfect.

It was beneath the radiance of these countless lights of
which I have spoken, that we saw the pictures in this gallery ;
and though not by any means a fine collection, some there
were which seemed fitly to adorn it. I was struck with one
in a style I do not usually care for, but on this occasion it
seemed apposite. It was a cabinet of rich jewels and ob-
jects of virtu, represented with wonderful fidelity ; and as
I looked on the gems which flashed around, I could almost
believe that those before me in the picture sparkled as really
as they.

THE VATICAN PICTURES AND FRESCOES.

a^gffi° avixg already a memorandum of the Statuary
in the Vatican, as seen by torchlight, I shall
not again refer to it. but go at once to that
room which contains five paintings, — each
possessing a world-wide fame.
1st, The Transfiguration, by Raphael. Very
peculiar interest must this picture excite as the
last production of the illustrious Master.
, ;<V None can so well relate the circumstances which
"ZyC connected it with his death and funeral, as the poet
whose spirit is so deeply imbued with all that is beautiful in
Italy, whether in its works of art or its scenes of nature.

The painting was hung over his bier, as the body of the
artist lay in state, previous to its burial.

" Ami when all beheld
1 T in i where lie lav how changed from yesterday ;
Him in that hour cut off, ami at his head
Hi- lasl great work: when entering in. they looked
Now on the dead, then en that masterpiece —
Now on his face, lifeless and colourless,

ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 225

Then on those forms divine, thai lived and breathed,
And would live on for ages ; — all were moved,
And sighs burst forth and loudest lamentations.''

Rogers.

The upper division of the picture is the most beautiful :
the centre figure is that of the Saviour. Truly would it seem
as though the pencil of the painter had been dipped in the
essence of light, so powerfully has he represented the efful-
gence and visible glory of Him whose " face did shine as the
sun," and his raiment became " white as the light." The
figures of the two Prophets who " talked with Him/' and of
the three Disciples, who seem overwhelmed with the heavenly
vision, are admirably represented.

The lower compartment draws one down again to earth
with all its sorrows and sufferings. One of the most promi-
nent figures is a lad possessed with an evil spirit, whom his
father is bringing to the disciples to see if they can cure
him.

2d, The Madonna di Foligno, to which the most elaborate
description could do no justice, — for the charm of the picture
lies in the exquisite expression of gentleness and softness in
the countenances of the Virgin, and of the attendant Angel :
indeed, I think the latter must well-nigh be the most perfect
realization of pure and heavenly beauty ever wrought by the
pencil.

3c? and 4th, The subject of these two is the Coronation of
the Virgin. To me, neither of them, however fine as paintings,
possessed any interest. But again my wannest admiration
was called forth by the 5th, " The Communion of St. Jerome,"
by Domenichino. This is undoubtedly his chef d'eeuvre ;
and well may the Bolognese school boast of producing such a
masterpiece. The scene is evidently supposed to be in Syria;

22G AKT AND NATURE

the Arab attendant and the Lion identify it with that land.
St. Jerome, worn out with age and infirmity, pale and
emaciated, is feebly kneeling in lowly humility at the altar ;
and bending over him, with an expression of reverence and
love, as he administers the consecrated elements, is St.
Ephraim, clothed in the robes of the Greek Church. The
emotions depicted in the countenances and attitudes of each,
as well as in those of the youth who kneels with his gaze
fixed on the dying Father, and of the female saint who is
pressing her lips upon Ins thin hand — are what peculiarly
constitute the high excellence of this picture. But, in addi-
tion, the whole possesses the richest and most gorgeous
colouring, remarkable especially in the Dalmatica worn by
the Deacon who stands beside the Bishop bearing the cup.

From the Picture Gallery Ave passed on, by long and
spacious corridors, to that part of the Vatican, called the four
Stanze of Raphael. These contain some of the finest produc-
tions of this great Master. First there is the Camera della
Segnatura, the four walls of which are painted with the
following subjects : — 1. Theology ; 2. Poetry ; 3. Philosophy,
or the School of Athens ; 4. Jurisprudence. It is impossible
to describe the separate beauties of each, so I shall only men-
tion more particularly the one I liked best — " Philosophy."

Not only is the whole conception of this most admirable,
but it presents at once to your eye the persons of all the
famous men of those days, with their individual characteristics.
It represents a large hall, wherein are assembled the leaders
of the various schools of philosophy, with their disciples. A
flight of steps raises the more distant figures ; and you behold
Plato and Aristotle standing in the centre, as if disputing on
their doctrines. Plato points upwards with uplifted arm ;
Aristotle stretches his hand towards the earth. At each side

DNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. 227

is a line of attentive hearers : near them, towards one side of
the picture, stands Socrates, explaining- to a group of listeners
something in order, as it seems, for he is counting on his
fingers. Opposite, other persons are engaged in study or in
conversation. On the left, in the foreground, as the great
representative of Arithmetic, is Pythagoras, writing with a
folio on his knee. On the right, Archimedes constructs a
geometrical figure on a tablet which lies upon the ground :
while several scholars watch its progress with interest ; the
different degrees of their intelligence represented most vividly.
Next to these are Zoroaster and Ptolemy, representing respec-
tively astronomy and geography, with celestial and terrestrial
globes ; while before them on the steps, apart from all others,
reclines Diogenes the Cynic. Near the edge of the picture,
Raphael himself enters the hall, in company with his master
Perugino.

The ceiling in the Sistine Chapel contains Michael Angelo's
celebrated Frescoes ; representing, in four separate parts, the
Creation and Fall of Man, with its immediate consequences.

1. The representation of the Creation of the Sun and Moon,
supposed to be one of the most sublime ever conceived of the
subject ; but for myself I do not like any such attempts to
represent the embodied presence of God the Father — though
doubtless none has ever equalled this. We see Him assigning
the two great orbs their places ; but even as I looked, I
thought how far more sublime is the conception conveyed by
the simple words : " Let there be light ; and there was light."
This mere fiat of the will Omnipotent, is surely far more
godlike than such ideas as the painting calls forth. — 2. The
Awakening the first Man to Life. In this, Adam's figure and
countenance are admirable ; and there is a force of expression,
and a depth of thought in the whole scene, very striking

•22X ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

indeed. — 3. The Fall of Man, and his Expulsion froni Para-
dise. The Tree of Knowledge stands in the centre, the Serpent
is twined round the stem, and bends towards the guilty pair,
as though to triumph in what is going on. The figure of
Eve is most lovely. In another part of the scene, though
close to the Serpent, hovers the Angel with the sword of
vengeance. In this union of the two moments, we seem to
see the sin and its punishment at once. — 4. The Deluge ; a
wonderful picture, but too elaborate to be described, as, in-
deed, are the other parts of this celebrated ceiling. I must,
however, at least name the famous fresco on the end wall, of
the " Last Judgment," which Michael Angelo commenced in
his sixtieth year. He began it for Clement VII., and finished
it in seven years, during the pontificate of Paid III. It is a
most extraordinary work of art, — marvellous in the variety of
form and attitude among the countless figures it contains.
But its extent and intricacy of arrangement render anything
like description out of the question.

VILLAS.

<^jM° ow lovely is this fresh spring-time, and how
sweet the young beauty with which it decks
the crumbling palaces, the fallen pillars, the
ruined towers of the ancient city !

It has stolen on me with a sweet surprise.
->' I was wont to think of Rome rather beneath the
rich dyes of autumn, — with its evanescent glory,
here so fit a type : — its mournful tones ; its chill
and sighing breeze that seems to mourn over the
C°C beauty it is commissioned to destroy ; — to think of it,
— now lighted up for a brief moment with a crimson flush,
like the hectic glow on the cheek of fading health, or the
short-lived smile upon the face of sorrow, — now sad, pale, and
cold, shrouded in the wintry garb of a mourner. It was thus
that I had dreamt of Rome ; — but now I see her with a rich
and lavish adornment : the wide Campagna clothed as with
a gay and holiday attire : the broken arches of the several
aqueducts hung about with festoons : the mouldering tombs
garlanded with tresses of the wild vine, and fringed with
light and feathery sprays of celandine, half concealed by the

230 ART AND NATURE

clustering luxuriance of the leafy drapery, as though, where
all is redolent of life, it behoved that these pale spectres of
the past should be hidden out of sight.

The trees have all put on their fairest garments. The pink
stems and polished leaves of the tamarind ; the dark shining
green of the cork and the ilex, with their rough gnarled
branehes twisted into every variety of fantastic form ; the
willow, bending over its own shadow, in graceful contrast ;
the olive — one of Italy's own fruitful and poetic trees — with
its old grey knotted trunk and hoary hue, which, even in that
bright spring, sobers the gaiety of the foliage around, tem-
pering all glaring colours, and harmonizing as with a soft
and neutral tint the contrast between the sapphire blue of
sky and sea, and the emerald green of her fairer sisters of
the forest, Even the grand old pines, so stern and joyless,
seemed to wear a smile, like age wooed by rosy childhood :
while round and round upon the circling hills the shadows
chased each other as in sport, — now darkening over some
far off Alban village on its mountain site, — now revealing its
white houses through a veil of purple light, like pearls glit-
tering from their amethyst setting, then melting into that
mellow light — that silvery haze — which gives such wondrous
beauty to the distant landscapes of this clime.

But not alone on the far off hills, on the fragrant shrubs,
and on the fresh untainted hues of the foliage is this lavish
outpouring of spring's beauty to be found. It is not less
upon the luxuriant turf, amid mosses soft and bright as
though for fairy feet alone to press, that this wealth of loveli-
ness is scattered ! There are the ruby-coloured anemones,
the sapphire violet and hyacinth, the pearl-like daisies, the
trembling, quivering celandine — each tiny branch an emerald
spray, the turquoise blue of the forget-me-not — alike dear in

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 231

all lands to remembrance and association, the dew-drops for
diamonds, — all forming such mosaic-work as never did Flo-
rentine or Veaetian equal ! And the gladsome birds, how
they too carolled in the fulness of their joy, as though con-
scious that these were Nature's happiest holidays ! It pleased
me, on such a day as this, to stand and look upon one of those
wonderfully beautiful frescoes which seem almost to reflect
the aerial tints of an Italian sky, so fitly does the pencil re-
produce them. Such a clime needed such an art, with its
graceful airy style, with the soft yet gorgeous richness of its
colours, above all, of that deep peculiar blue which nothing
but fresco-painting can give.

In the casino of the Rospigliosi Palace is that beautiful
personification of spring — the "Aurora" of Guido. In truth
it is the very poetry of painting ! Her youthful, joyous face
and airy figure, as she floats upon the azure sky, scattering
flowers on the earth below, — the pliant gracefulness of motion,
— with all around so fresh, so glowing with the glad sunshine
of early morning, one can fancy the dew-drops lingering yet
upon those failing flowers, and the sweetness of their breath
diffused upon the air.

Even as I lingered there, a faint whisper came to me from
days that are gone ! Long years have rolled on since first I
heard of this painting. How often have I listened entranced
to the voice that was sweet to me as a mother's, while with
rarest powers of description it awoke my childish interest in
this fair land, and its treasures of art and beauty ! That
building, those gardens, each object on which my eye now
rested, all were associated with her whose home was once
here, and with those who passed many of childhood's brightest
hours amid these scenes !

-Another such lovely day was spent at the Villa Ludovisi.

2-V2 ART AND NATURE

It is very difficult to gaiu admission to this Villa, and of

course it is all the more sought after. M , however, had

a carte^blanche order for admittance, so that I went more
than once. The gardens belonging to it are shady and plea-
sant, with walks through an olive wood, which pleased me
better than the usual stiff and formal parterres. But the
chief attraction is Guercino's "Aurora." In this fresco, the
goddess is represented in a triumphal car, from which she is
strewing flowers. Daybreak is personified by a youth with an
extinguished torch. It is undoubtedly very beautiful, but
should be seen before, not after, that of Guido.

The Sculpture Gallery contains several fine statues ; but I
shall name only one. It is a very noble colossal head, known
as the Ludovisi Juno. In general, I do not feel much admi-
ration for sculpture on so immense a scale, unless so placed as
to be brought down to ordinary proportions by corresponding
vastness in all around ; but this must rank as an exception.
The combination, in that countenance, of calm majesty and
commanding dignity, with feminine softness and grace, im-
1 tressed me as a very rare and happy mingling of the beautiful
and the sublime in moral expression ; and I could not but
own that the very size and grandeur of those colossal pro-
portions tend still more to heighten such an effect.

Perhaps the most attractive of the villas in the neighbour-
hood of Rome is the Albani. It is a little way beyond the
Porta Salara, and was built by Cardinal Albani. The design
was entirely his own ; and one cannot but acknowledge it to
be a fitting casket for the gems of sculpture it contains, and
which he spent a lifetime in collecting. The Portico, or
Arcade — as it is better called, supported by twenty-eight
pillars of the rarest marbles, opens upon a garden most taste-
fully laid out, ornamented with fountains and terraces, gay

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 233

with a rich luxuriance of roses and flowers of every hue,
while beyond it is a semicircle of columns, statues, and vases.
In this splendid Arcade, suitably placed, and arranged so as
to shew each to the greatest advantage, are most choice
groups and figures in statuary, nearly all of them well known
to fame. Two columns of extreme beauty ornament the long
gallery through which one passes into the lower rooms. One
of these is of solid alabaster, and antique ; the other of jasper.
Here is also a sarcophagus of white marble, rendered exceed-
ingly precious by the bas-relief upon it of the Marriage of
Peleus and Thetis, which is said to be one of the six finest
in the world.

The celebrated Apollo Sauroctonos of Praxiteles, spoken of
with rapture by Winckelmann, adorns a hall hung round
with tapestries from Flemish designs. But in the Galleria
Nobile is the gem of the collection — the "Antinous" — which
I have already named as surpassing in beauty both its rivals.
It is distinguished from the latter by a wreath of lotus leaves,
and perhaps the freshness and exquisite finish of this leafy
crown adds to the grace of the whole.

The Gallery is itself magnificent. On the ceiling is the
Parnassus of Raphael Mengs, a beautiful fresco. The walls
are ornamented with bas-reliefs and mosaics, the latter chiefly
from Hadrian's Villa, and exceedingly beautiful. These are
a few of the very many objects more or less deserving of
notice in this charming Villa. Nor are there wanting de-
lightful views from the windows. Looking over a foreground
of flowers and fountains, the eye rests upon the city, its domes
and towers glittering in the sun, on the one hand ; and on
the plain, and distant purple clad mountains, on the other.

THE MISERERE.

t is matter of regret to me that I have been
unable to keep a record of many of the Cere-
al monies of the Romish Church, which I have
-s'--. had opportunities of witnessing during our
sojourn in Rome. The general impression
left by them on the mind is a very decided one :
they realize, as no mere description can, the peril-
ous fascination which it is their manifest object to
throw over the enthusiastic, by the dazzling accessaries
X. *- of this gorgeous and deluded worship. Now, however,
that we have heard the Miserere, I must no longer allow my
pen to be silent, but try to secure some memorial of the feel-
ings called forth by the most overpowering music I ever
listened to.

Everything connected with the services of the Church,
especially during the Holy Week, is managed with such
dramatic effect, that I was fully prepared to find here also,
that the simple power of the music would be greatly indebted
to the solemn and exciting character of the accompaniments
of light, scene, and ceremony. But truly it is, above and

ART AND NATURE UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY.

independently of all such, the most strangely effective and
overpowering musical composition I ever listened to. The
first time we heard it was in a very commonplace concert
room. The following day we listened to it in the Sistine
Chapel, amid a suffocating heat and crowd, and without the
possibility of seeing anything more interesting than the back
of the Austrian Ambassador's box. But it was enough that I
could hear — that I could close my eyes and give up my heart
and soul to the spell-like power of that unearthly harmony.
The Choir of the Vatican contains some of the finest and
most effective voices in the world, and the execution on such
occasions is all that thorough training and first-rate science
can make it. With the performance then, and the simple
music itself, in the Sistine, I was astonished and charmed
more than I ever was by sounds before ; especially, perhaps,
by the execution of a passage from " the Lamentations," in
which the prophet, as the voice of God, makes that touching
appeal to Israel, ere yet her day of calamity has overtaken
her : " Oh, my people ! what have I done unto thee ? 0
Jerusalem ! return unto the Lord thy God." This passage
is performed by a single voice of marvellous expression and
clearness ; and though sustained within the range of but
two or three notes, yet, with its infinite variety of swells,
shakes, and cadences, breathes forth, with the most perfect
truth, the passion and spirit of the words. But the impres-
sion even of this was partly effaced and overshadowed by
what followed. On descending to St. Peter's, we found, to
our satisfaction, that we were in time to hear this glorious
music repeated in the great Temple itself; and heightened
as the scenic effect there was by every concomitant of time.
place, light, and arrangement, never while I live shall I
forget that hour ! The sendee being performed was what is

236 ART AND NATURE

culled " The Tenebrse." A pyramid of lights, to the number
of fifteen, is placed behind the altar in the side Chapel of the
Virgin, where the service is conducted. At the conclusion of
each psalm chanted, one of these is extinguished — symboli-
cal, I have been told, of the desertion of the Saviour by his
disciples and friends in the hour of his last agony. When
this was concluded, none of the lights, save a solitary one
over the high altar, remained. The Chapel, with its richly
gilded ceiling, fretted arches, and carved projections, sup-
porting those white spiritlike figures, in rapt and fervent
attitudes of devotion, was now filled and softened with that
incensed atmosphere, that soft mysterious twilight, which so
excites the imagination, and serves to cast over such scenes a
hallowed spell, which the ruder glare of noonday disenchants.
There was a brief pause — a breathless silence ; and then
broke upon the ear, softly, tremblingly, the first long wild
wailing note of the " Miserere ! " Amid the indistinctness and
deepening gloom of all around, it seemed to come — one knew
not whence — from earth or air ! 'Twas as though the very
essence of plaintiveness had been breathed forth from some
wounded heart, and were flitting away on viewless wings to
seek for rest or sympathy ! It appeared to die in distance, —
then rose a fuller swell of several voices, clear, steady, and
prolonged ; and while these in their turn, one by one dropped
off, the notes were taken up by others, louder, fuller still, as
the hymn went on — blending, interchanging, crossing, unit-
ing with each other, in all the variety of chords, minors, semi-
tones, that the compass and combination of sounds can
1 >r< iduce ; and forming the strangest, sweetest medley of ex-
pressive harmony that ever human heart conceived ! There
were times when the voices seemed to part from each other
in a most peculiar manner, producing a kind of soft and

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. :2:;7

melancholy discord ; eacli note running out on its own sepa-
rate key of plaintiveness — as it were each sorrowing spirit
carried away and absorbed by its own individual grief : some
as though sighing forth the low monotone of a speechless
wo — some as though uttering the mingled broken eloquence
of a heart disburdening itself in prayer or confession ; —
others rising and echoing roimd the vaulted roof in the long
shrill cry of pain and mental anguish ; and then suddenly, as
if all had found some common ground of mourning and of
sympathy in suffering, they would softly blend and flow into
each other, till united in one full rich tide of soothing har-
mony, like the calm of a settled but profoundest sorrow. In
a word — each depth of feeling, each variety of changing
mood, every shade and characteristic of penitential grief,
humility, self-abasement, seemed there to speak the Mness
of the heart, in pathos more intense than any words could
utter. And what a medium it must be that can thus give the
meaning of that universal language of communion between
the humbled sinner and his God — the fifty-first Psalm — of
which the " Miserere" principally consists ! It seemed to me,
that if ever, since the Monarch Minstrel of Israel swept, with
inspired touch, the chords of his harp, and breathed forth
these holy thoughts before the throne of Jehovah, music has
been found fitly adapted to such a prayer, it must be this !
The deep abasement of a heart wounded and convicted of
sin, — the unjustifying self-condemnation of a contrite spirit
before its Judge, — " I acknowledge my transgression, and my
sin is ever before me;" — the fear, the felt incapacity for
any good, the clear view of Divine Justice driving almost
to the dark verge of despair : " Cast me not away from thy
presence, take not thy Holy Spirit from me." And then the
bright ray of hope and comfort breaking through from the

2:58 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

redeeming love of a Father reconciled : " Have mercy upon
me, 0 God ; according to the multitude of thy tender mer-
cies ! " "A broken and a contrite heart thou wilt not despise."
This theme of an infinite love has power at length to bring a
balm, and wipe away the tear ; and this varied and wonderful
hymn of devotion concludes with one burst of joyful triumph,
and confidence restored to the drooping spirit : " Make me to
know joy and gladness ; do good in thy good pleasure unto
Zion ; build thou the walls of Jerusalem ! "

It was all deeply, powerfully affecting ; and cold must he
be, and unsusceptible indeed, who can listen to this strange
and thrilling music without eyes suffused, and a heart that
beats quicker in its sympathy ! It was some moments after
the last note had died away, ere I could recall my absorbed
and spell-bound faculties, and with a sigh, almost of relief,
turned and left the spot.

INTERVIEW WITH THE POPE.

ircumstances having interfered with my ac-
companying our friends the R s when

they had an interview with the Pope, I
agreed shortly afterwards to chaperone two
young ladies, if we could obtain an audience.
\/ It was generally thought there was no chance of
this, as the ceremonies of the " Holy Week" had
commenced, and the aged Pope suffered much
from fatigue. We were fortunate, however, in posses-
sing the good-will of one of the most influential
persons at the Vatican, the Abbe H — ■ — , who not only
arranged the desired interview at our request, but himself
accompanied us.

We received orders to wear black dresses, and a hint that
a black veil was deemed the most appropriate head-dress.
When the carriage stopped at the entrance to the Vatican,
we were conducted up the famous staircase called the Scala
Regia, a noble monument of the genius of Bernini. Stopping
at the head of the first flight of steps, a door was opened,
and we were received by several gentlemen, who ushered us

240 ART AND NATURE

along a line of Swiss guards in their fantastic garb, into a
gallery where are the far-famed cartoons of Raphael. Here
we were requested to wait until the Pope was disengaged.
In such a place delay could scarcely he tedious, and almost
1 >efore we had even glanced at several of the pieces of tapestry,
we were summoned into the presence of Gregory XVI. He
was dressed more like a monk than a sovereign prince, with
a close fitting vest of white cashmere or some such material,
a crimson badge on one arm, and a kind of loose cloak with
a hood which hung at the back. Upon his head was a small
skull-cap of crimson velvet ; but, as I said before, nothing to
mark the wearer of the triple crown. His face was somewhat
full, and with a heavy expression, — more characterized I
should say by benevolence than intelligence. He was stand-
ing beneath a canopy of crimson velvet, and a carpet of the
same material was laid down just where he stood, leaving the
rest of the room uncovered. There was no furniture save a
chair of state beneath the canopy, in front of which he stood,
and a small table with a silver inkstand on it. The walls,
however, were ornamented with a few cabinet pictures of
great beauty and value.

We were directed to courtesy three times as we advanced,
which we did with all due solemnity. He received us very
kindly, and, as it was a private reception, with little of form
or ceremony. We were told he rather enjoyed seeing English
laches in this quiet way, especially if they are introduced by
any of his personal friends. Our names being repeated, we
advanced near him, and he addressed us individually. He
never speaks but in Italian, so that it was rather awful, con-
sidering my but recent renewal of acquaintance with that
language, to be obliged to answer his queries. Fortunately,
he took most of the conversation upon himself. He asked

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 24]

me, however, what I thought of Rome, of St. Peter's, and of
the Miserere which had been performed the previous day ;
questioned me of my home ; how we had performed the
journey from England, and such like. I named the railway
among other modes of travelling, and was glad I had done
so, as it called forth the most characteristic expression of
opinion with which we were favoured. In the most energetic
manner, he declared his dislike of railways ; adding, that
though he doubted not when he was "sotto terra" railways
would speedily be introduced into the Papal States, yet that
as long as he lived not one should be permitted.

Poor old man ! he little thought how short a span of his
life remained. In less than one month from that date he was
no more !

As he addressed a few words to my companions, my eye
fell on the embroidered slipper on the left foot, which the
"faithful" are privileged to kiss. In a few moments more
he made a signal to one of the attendants who stood by, and
turning to each of us successively, bowed very graciously, and
we withdrew, walking backwards for a few steps. Meanwhile
he retired through a door hidden by some tapestry ; and then
we were allowed to turn round.

On leaving the reception-room, we were each presented
with a small alabaster rosary, blessed by his holiness, which I
keep as a memento of my interview with him.

We were told rather an interesting anecdote concerning
this Pontiff, which I have good reason to believe true. A
lady, more full of zeal than discretion, left England and went
to Rome, with one fixed object in view, — the conversion
of the Pope. She sought and obtained an interview with
him, and, by way of overwhelming him at once, put before
him the infinite presumption of which he must be guilty in

242 AKT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN" SKY.

setting himself up as the infallible teacher of Christendom.
He listened to her calmly. for some time, and then said, "I
thank you. madam, for your zeal in my behalf. Believe me,
not a day of my life passes that I do not humble myself
before my God, feeling and knowing myself to be a sinner,
and asking forgiveness. But having- said this, allow me to
ask you if your own spirit is a right one, and if the mission
you have now undertaken shews yourself to be possessed of
that true humility, which, as you have well said, must be the
foundation of Christianity." It is not difficult to believe
what was added,— that the romantic lady was so melted by
the meekness and forbearance of his holiness, that she herself
became a decided convert to Popery !

ILLUMINATION OF ST. PETER'S.

he multitudinous observances of the Holy
Week, however gorgeous and imposing to
witness, are but little interesting in mere
description, and besides are now so familiar
to almost every one, that even their bare
enumeration would be tedious. One thing struck
me forcibly, as characterizing them all — whether
:'( ^ / ; ceremonies, processions, or solemn masses, — and
that was, the perfect manner in which each individual
engaged in them performs his part. However intri-
cate, however elaborate that part may be, whether vocal
intonations, or corporeal movement, whether in the capacity
of principal or subordinate, — nothing awkward, nothing ludi-
crous seems ever to occur, so as to mar the impression de-
signed to be made. The measured reverential step, the set
solemnity of feature, the easy graceful self-possession of the
most humble official, are all as perfect in their place and
way, as those of the most exalted dignitary. In truth these
Italians seem to possess an intuitive perception of what is
dignified, graceful, and appropriate in all such enactings of

-\ I ART AND NATURE

pomp and ceremony, which a whole lifetime of drilling could
not instil into our sturdy Englishmen.

And here I cannot help saying, that in truth the contrast
between the two nations, on these occasions, is often most
peculiarly and painfully marked. The conduct of the Italians,
even of the lower orders, at such times of public concourse,
is almost invariably gentle, good-humoured, and courteous;
while that of too many of our own fellow-countrymen, — even
in Italy, where it is to be supposed the higher and better
educated alone are to be found, — is frequently as remarkable
for overbearing rudeness, and indecent disregard to the feel-
ings and habits of the people among whom they are mingling.
Above all, during the Easter Week, there is a large propor-
tion of the sight-loving English community in Home, which
appears somewhat to forget that it professes to represent,
among these poor Roman Catholics, a more enlightened and
Christianized nation. I fancy it must partly result from the
over-wrought excitement consequent upon the frantic rush-
ing, scrambling, and importuning that takes place on all
hands among them, to secure tickets, orders, &c, for admis-
sion to the different ceremonies, and most favourable places
for seeing them. I shall not soon forget the spectacle I
witnessed at the celebration of the Cceita, when the Pope in
person goes through the form of girding himself, and minis-
tering with bis own hands to the very hearty appetite of some
twelve or twenty poor pilgrims seated at table. The body of
the hall was crowded, principally with Englishmen, as densely
wedged together as the strength of hundreds desperately
pushing from the outer sides of the human mass could make
it. Again and again, during the ceremony, long after the
fruitlessness of such attempts became obvious, did those farth-
est off continue to struggle towards the obi ect of attraction.

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 21 .1

which fortunately, being raised on a strong platform, was only
thus saved from a violence which would speedily have over-
borne Pope, supper-table, pilgrims and all. Yells, groans,
and fiercest execrations burst incessantly from the swaying
and labouring throng ; nor was I surprised to learn that
several had not only fainted with terror and exhaustion, but
that some had received severe bodily injuries. And these
were our countrymen, exhibiting their superior enlightenment
and civilisation at a Catholic religious ceremony ! I made
my escape in disgust, before the obstreperous multitude
rushed forth — probably to repeat the scene in some other
place.

The spectacle which I enjoyed incomparably more than
any other during Easter, was that which is reserved for the
evening of its close, — the Illumination of St. Peter's. This
magnificent exhibition is provided at the expense of Govern-
ment on this and one or two other occasions annually, for the
gratification of the people. The evening was fortunately
calm and delicious. For the purpose of securing a favourable
place within the great piazza, we drove down early, and drew
up where we had a full view of the facade of the edifice, and
the curve of the colonnade on either side. It was already dusk,
and the first part of the illumination had commenced. This
consists of innumerable lamps, so disposed over every portion
of the stupendous building, as to trace out, in lines of pale
silvery light, every feature, ornament, and proportion of it s
beautiful architecture. As the twilight disappeared, and tin-
evening advanced, the effect became more and more fairy-
like. To close the eyes for a moment, was to leave the im-
pression on the mind, not so much of a reality as of the
brilliant vision of a dream ! Or, when steadily gazing at it,
I could have fancied that some great clustering constellation,

246 ART AND NATURE

in unbroken form of beauty, had fallen from heaven to earth.
For nearly two hours we continued in the untiring enjoy-
ment of the novel scene, amusing ourselves occasionally
by conversing with passing acquaintances, or by observing
the ecstasies of admiration and delight in the groups of
common people around us. As the clocks in the neigh-
bourhood sounded the first stroke of nine, the busy hum
oi' human voices was hushed in one instant into the still-
ness of breathless anticipation : and almost ere the second
stroke vibrated on the ear, beside each one of those silvery
lain] is, as by the touch of an unseen magician, leapt up a
flame of golden brilliancy ! Along each gallery, cornice, and
pediment, around each window, column, and capital, over
each dome and cupola, up to the very pinnacle of the gigantic
cross that towered into the sombre sky above, ran, with the
swiftness of an ignited train of gunpowder, the invisible
agent, pencilling in lines of glowing fire, against the dark
heavens as a background, the matchless spnmetry of the
glorious structure ! With a ruddy glare of unearthly light
upon them, the tall statues looked down from the lofty
colonnade. The great fountains playing in the piazza seemed
to catch the fiery influence around, and to shower forth
living sparks instead of the wonted drops of crystal !

As we drove from the spot, and crossed the bridge into
the city, every object, as we passed along, stood out in a
strong and steady light. The huge mass of the Castle St.
Angelo, the tall gaunt houses along the margin of the river,
the countenances of thousands of human beings, clustered
together at every point whence the gorgeous spectacle might
best be seen, all were as distinct as in the light of noonday.
When we had ascended to the highest terrace of the Pincian
Hill, which completely overlooks the city, the appearance of

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 241

the illumination was, if possible, still more striking. The
elevation is sufficient to clear the view of St. Peter's from all
that labyrinth of streets and houses which beset it closely on
the public side of approach, while the distance enables the
eye to take in fully the proportions of the edifice and its
colonnade, which from their vastness can be comprehended,
on a nearer view, only in detail. From the point on which
we now stood not only was the whole visible, but with a new
and most peculiar effect. The distance, together with the
dazzling of the countless lights themselves, completely hid
the solid material of the edifice, so that what we now beheld
was the skeleton framework of a St. Peter s, elaborately con-
structed of those vivid lines of light !

Until within the last few years there was, on this annual
occasion, an interior illumination of the building. A cross
of gigantic proportions was suspended from the inside of the
great dome, immediately over the high altar, and covered
with thousands of brilliant lamps. The gorgeous splendour
of the effect thus produced on the gilding and bright coloured
mosaics, the strange and fantastic accidents of light and shade
among the far-retiring columns, aisles, and arches, together
with the imposing pageantry of the Papal procession, moving
to and from the high altar, I can in some degree imagine,
but was not fortunate enough to witness.

DEPARTURE FROM ROME.

hex the time drew near which had been fixed
for our departure, not even the thought that
our steps were now to be turned homewards
I could altogether prevent a feeling of regret.

I do not think any one ever more intensely
enjoyed Rome than I did. The deep interest of
the place itself was greatly enhanced by the
society of my dear cousins, upon whose affec-
tionate kindness, during those months, I look back
with unmingled pleasure.

The endeared friendship of the R s also, as well as our

pleasant intercourse with Lady M and her family, — from

all these it was sad to sever.

Our arrangements, however, were completed, and the last
evening came : it was spent at the Quattro Fontane ; dear

S and Mr. R walked part of the way home with us,

and then farewell was exchanged, and we parted. I may not
trust myself to dwell on a parting which has proved our last.
That loved one is now in a fairer land than that we have
often admired together !

ART AM) NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 249

.... Once more the carriage was at the door, and,
to our infinite satisfaction, its driver was our good friend Fer-
dinando ! Some weeks previously we had met him in the
street, and bade him call at Capo le Case, that we might
speak with him of our arrangements for the future. He
most gladly agreed to take his chance meanwhile, in Rome, of
occasional employment, and so to wait in the hope of renewing
his engagement with us ; nor were we less pleased than he was.
Poor Ferdinando ! a shade passed over his gladsome face when
I asked for his young Ante and little infant. In the curious
mixture of French and Italian he usually employed in address-
ing us, he replied, " Ah, Madama, la povera petite e morta—
et pour moi— j'aurai bien mieux voulu perdre, sei cavalli !"
He seemed to select this as the very strongest, as it certainly
was the most professional illustration he could give of the
sincerity of his grief !

Well, as I was about to say, we once more settled ourselves
and our goods in the old places ; each article, ourselves among
the number, seeming to find naturally its accustomed corner.
The first night was spent at Civita Castellana, in most un-
comfortable quarters; a poor inn at best, and now greatly
over-crowded. Ferdinando counselled our starting early next
morning, if possible before any of the other numerous travellers
were astir, with the view of securing better accommodation
at our next night's resting-place. By five o'clock then we
were off; and very successfully did we keep for a while our
first start, the horses being fresh, ami we having little lug-
gage compared with many of our competitors on the road.
Right merrily were we rattling down a long hill, when lo ! in
far less time than I can write the words, a collision — a crash
— a tremendous jerk, and we were prostrate in a ditch at the
side of the road ! Not the slightest warning had we of what

250 ART AND NATURE

was coming, nor did 1 distinctly comprehend what had come,
till I found my feet protruding through a side window of the

carriage, and planted in the mud! W , who had been

at the side now uppermost, contrived to keep himself from
falling on me. One instant sufficed to ascertain that neither
of us was hurt, the next to bethink ourselves of investigating

our actual position. W scrambled out, and by and bye

managed to extract me also ; and then, what a scene of con-
fusion we looked on ! Ferdinando, striking his forehead with
Ins hand, now frantically calling upon a whole calendar of
saints to help him, and again beseeching us to tell him that
Ave were safe and uninjured, but perfectly bewildered, and

unable to tell what he should do first. W advised his

catching the horses, winch at some distance, with the two
front wheels and pole attached to them, were amusing them-
selves with kicking each other, and trying to get free.
Boxes, trunks, carpet-bags, cushions, books, &c, &c. — all,
and it seemed far more than all the carriage had contained,
— the arrangement of which I had prided myself upon — lay
strewed in dire disorder upon the ground. Add to this, frag-
ments of broken glass, splinters of wood, and other evidences
of destruction, and we certainly beheld a scene of apparently
as hopeless and helpless misfortune as, apart from serious
personal injury, could well be conceived ! The rain, too, be-
o-an to fall, and we had not an idea where we were, or in what
direction assistance should be sought. There was to be seen
the luckless cause of our disaster — a huge waggon dragged by
a team of stubborn mules, which had absolutely refused to
turn out of the way, in spite of the somewhat tardy endeavours
of their drivers. The first result of their unaccommodating ob-
stinacy was, that our wheels were caught by the clumsy project-
ing axles ( if the waggon, and the second, what I have described.

INDKU AX ITALIAN SKY.

Ferdinando was out of sight in pursuit of the horses, the
mule-drivers followed him, and we were left in company with
the long-eared delinquents, now quietly feeding by the road
side

Having- collected as we Lest might the smaller articles,

W made a seat of cloaks and cushions for me, and there

I sat in a disconsolate enough plight, truly ! At length the
welcome sound of approaching wheels was to lie heard — alas
for disappointed hopes ! — the vehicle, which shortly made its
appearance, was full ; and, it is to be presumed, the inmates
were unwilling to excite hopes they could not fulfil, for they
passed by on the other side. Another few minutes elapsed,
and again we eagerly watched the issue of a new approach —
a lumbering, heavily-laden machine drew near, and on seeing
the debris scattered around, the occupants thereof shouted to
an apparently hard-hearted driver to stop, which he was at
length reluctantly compelled to do, and two very gentlemanlike
foreigners jumping out, came forward, followed by a niotherly-
looking English woman, whose homely voice was as music to
my ears. Each most kindly proffered their services, earnestly
desiring to know what they could do to help us. I thank-
fully accepted the place in the carriage offered me by one of
the gentlemen, who himself walked forward to Narni, which,
as we learnt, was only three miles off, and was to have been

the mid-day resting-place. W remained to look after

the wreck of our property, and having pressed the mule-
drivers into the service on their return with Ferdinando, got
the 1 n-oken carriage fastened to the waggon, and the trunks
piled upon it ; and thus, in mournful procession, moved on

to Narni. As he walked, W had leisure to observe a

fresh cause for thankfulness in our merciful preservation.
A few hundred yards further on, a steep rocky precipice,

252 ART AND NATURE

unfenced by bank or parapet of any kind, sunk abruptly from
the side of the road : and had the accident happened there, it
appeared inevitable that we should have been thrown over it,

The news of our disaster preceded us, and many friendly
offers of conveying us on to Term' were made by those
assembled in the public room of the inn at Narni. But
ascertaining from Ferdinando that the chief damage could be
repaired in twenty-four hours, and finding the rooms very
clean and tolerably comfortable, we resolved to remain where
we were. A quiet afternoon, and a ramble amid the singu-
larly picturesque ravines and rocky dells which surround this
romantic little town, repaid us well for the unlooked-for
detention.

The remains of the magnificent bridge of Augustus is the
chief attraction of Narni : it is noble even in ruin. One of
the arches is still entire, and is composed of rough blocks of
white marble, without cement. This bridge joined the lofty
hills above the river, and was the passage of the Flaminian
Way.

The carriage was made fit for use sooner than we had at
all anticipated ; yet not early enough to allow of our depar-
ture till the second morning, as we were unwilling to arrive
at Terni late in the day. The whole road thither is exceed-
ingly beautiful, and the weather was delicious. Very fortu-
nate have we been in our wanderings with respect to the
season of the year. Our first journey through Italy was in
the very midst of the vintage — the full ripe fruit hanging on
every side in clustering profusion, and the mellow tints of
autumn giving a richer beauty to every light and shade in
the glowing landscape. And now we beheld the fair land in
the spring-time of her loveliness, with a mantle of softest
green alike on wood and meadow, while every tree and flower

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 253

seemed waking into joyous existence. And singularly sweet
and lovely is that fresh young verdure, while it lasts, in a
climate where the burning rays of the sun so soon cause it to
fade and wither.

Amid scenes so fresh and fair, the few hours of that morn-
ing's journey lied swiftly and pleasantly by. Arrived at
Terni, where we found a tolerably comfortable inn, we made
arrangements for remaining over night, and, having hired
a light open carriage, set oft; in the agreeable anticipation
of spending an afternoon at the " Cadute delle Marmore,"
better known as the Falls of Terni.

These falls are about five miles distant from the town ; the
road leading to them passes through the Valley of the Nar,
and for nearly three miles is one continued ascent.

At Papigno, a small mountain hamlet, the road divides ;
one branch ascending the hill for about a mile and a half, to
within a short distance of the place from whence the Velnio
dashes over the rocky precipice ; the other leading to the
bottom of the tall. We adopted the plan most recommended,
and chose the upper road first.

Alighting from the carriage at the top of the long ascent,
we followed a little narrow pathway leading to the wooded
bank, where first the river comes in sight; for until the
moment of reaching this spot, though the roar of waters hits
long since fallen on the ear, nothing of the stream itself has
yet been visible. Deep, still, and smooth, as if husbanding
its energies for the coming crisis, flows on the rapid current !
There is something of resistless determination in that noise-
less, arrowy sweep, with which those hurrying waters are
speeding on to the verge of their tremendous leap — something
which enhances the effect of the wild uproar in which they
next appear.

254 ART AND NATURE

A small wooden building, erected (so says the guide-book)
by the orders of Napoleon, stands on a projecting piece of
rock, opposite the middle of the upper fall, and from the
open side of tins is by tar the most impressive view of it.
The broad transparent sheet, yet unbroken in its fall, rushes
down close before you, and, looking into the abyss, which the
jutting rock yon stand upon literally overhangs, you see it
disappearing in a vast cloud of white vapour, which heaves
and rolls majestically around it.

I know not that anything in Nature carries with it such a
sublime impress of resistless power as the sight and sound of
a mighty mass of falling water — together with the conscious-
ness that it has been thus dashing, sounding, ever, ever
downwards, for long centuries, and will so continue, when
generations yet unborn shall gaze upon its boiling eddies
even as we did !

" The voice of many waters ! " There is sublimity in the
idea ; — and almost unconsciously, amid that scene, the words
of the Psalmist suggested themselves, in which he seems to
look around for what is mightiest — for what is grandest in
nature, whereby to illustrate the glory and strength of
Almighty power ! " The voice of the Lord is upon the
waters ; the God of glory thundereth. The Lord on high is
mightier than the noise of many waters."

I know not how long we stood there : but long enough to
exhaust the patience of a most garrulous personage, calling
himself the custode of the place. The annoyance caused by
the buzzing of these tiresome custodes, and by the innumer-
able beggars who lie in wait at every turn, and beset you on
every hand, is really intolerable. And yet it is even more
mournful than it is provoking, when the mind has been filled
with the contemplation of what is great or beautiful, to have

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 255

to turn again and witness such wretched objects of human
degradation and misery as, at these very spots, so often press
upon you ! I fear, however, that it was more from a
longing desire to be quit of them, than from any charitable
feeling, that we gave them the bajocelt i which they craved.

Having descended the precipitous path at the side of the
cataract, and seen it en regie from the various points of
observation, we crossed the stream a little way down, and
proceeded to climb a rocky eminence on the opposite side of
the valley, where, from another little bower erected upon a
terrace, we enjoyed a view which included the whole of
the fall, and of the wooded ravine into which it dashes.
Here we found guides and donkeys awaiting us, and having
mounted, had a pleasant ride down the banks of the stream,
through tangled groves of ilex and brushwood. My donkey
was led by a pretty Italian peasant, who soon discovered my
desire to possess some flowers which I had not yet met with,
as well as specimens of the beautiful petrifactions which are
themselves almost like flowers. Most zealously did she fill
her apron with both, and, as it appeared to me, quite as much
from the wish to oblige, as to obtain rather more bajoceh i than
would otherwise have fallen to her share.

It was late in the evening ere we reached the village where
the carriage was waiting to take us back to Terni ; and so
ended an excursion which more than realized our long cher-
ished expectation.

The next day's journey took us up the steep ascent of
Monte Somma, which rises, at the highest pass, nearly four
thousand feet above the level of the sea. The scenery becomes
wild and stern in its character on leaving the fertile plains of
Terni ; but the descent again towards the picturesque town
of Spoleto, with its fine old fortress and vast aqueduct, is

256 ART AND NATURE

rich and beautiful. "We were glad to reach Spoleto early,
and to spend three or four hours there. . The Aqueduct delle
Torre consists of a range of ten noble arches, and now serves
as a bridge across the deep ravine which it spans. This
ancient city was the "Spoletum" of the Romans, and with-
stood, according to Livy, the attack of Hannibal, after the
battle of Thrasymene. By the soft and glowing light of a
sweet evening, we stopped to visit the little temple which
stands near the Clitumnus ; a stream to which the beautiful
allusion in Childe Harold has given an interest greater per-
haps than even classic lore has imparted. I know not when
I have felt more refreshed, after a hot and fatiguing day, than
by a draught of

" The sweetest wave
Of tin- most living crystal thai v>a> e'er
The haunt of river nymph."

We could spare very little time to visit the Picture Galleries
at Perugia, though, but for our detention at Narni, we had
proposed to spend at least a day there. Perugia is the centre
of a school of painting deservedly famed, and known as the
Umbrian school. Its great master was Perugino, so called
from the city of his adoption. He was the master of Raphael,
and much of his soft colouring and spiritual expression may
be traced, especially in the earlier ami perhaps purer works of
his gifted pupil.

In the Cathedral of San Lorenzo is the masterpiece of
Baroccio, which, for many years, found a place amid the
treasures of the Vatican. But the pictures which most
pleased me here were — two by Perugino, the "Nativity," and
the •• Baptism of Christ;"" a series of six pictures framed
together in one, by Pinturricchio : a most exquisite Madonna

[JNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. 257

and Child, with two attendant angels, — one of Raphael's
earliest works, — known as the Madonna Stafia. The last
named is a small round picture, in which the Virgin is repre-
sented as reading, so that the eyes are cast down, rendering
the serious and interested expression of the countenance per-
haps yet more striking. The Child also is looking upon the
book. It is a very lovely little picture, and differs from
almost every other of the kind I have met with.

Jnst as the carriage was ready, I hastily ran to look at the
Arco della Via Vecchia, also called the Arch of Augustus,
though its construction and style leave no doubt that it is
Etruscan, and consequently of far earlier date than the
Roman inscription it bears would lead one to suppose.

Leaving Perugia, a long and steep hill requires additional
horses, and is very tedious. From its summit, however, a
view is to be seen which well repays the wearisome ascent.
There lies the Lake of Thrasymene, recalling, by its name,
the memorable battle fought on its banks, and rendered yet
more interesting because not a doubt can be entertained as to
this being the real field of battle. There are the woody
hillocks amid which Hannibal concealed his horse-soldiers,
and to the left the remains of an old tower, called to this day
by the people around, " The Tower of Hannibal the Cartha-
ginian." When the valley is reached, the Gualandro hills
enclose one completely, leaving no other outlet than that
by the little town of Passignano, near which was placed the
mounted ambuscade, so well concealed, that the Roman
general, when he took up his position in the little plain,
suspected no danger, and was wholly unconscious that he was
fast locked in the very midst of a hostile army. With thril-
ling interest does one take in each of these details, and while
standing upon the banks of the little rivulet aptly called the

258 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

" Saiiguinetto," where, it is supposed, was the chief scene of
slaughter, I confess it was not the glory of conquest, the
laurels of the conqueror, that excited my sympathy ! It was
the wail of the dying thousands, Hie cry of shame and despair
from those once invincible legions, hopelessly panic-strickeD
and entangled by Carthaginian wiles, which seemed to fill
the air ! Yes ! it was with the conquered Roman, not with
the subtle invader, my thoughts most dwelt.

I gathered some ivy that had fastened its tenacious clasp
around the rough stones of a little bridge over the "stream
of blood," and bore it off as a trophy from the field.

At Arezzo, we remembered to look for the house in the
" Sobborgo del Orto," in which Petrarch was born in 1504 ;
but were unable to visit anything else. With all the haste
we made, it was late in the evening of Saturday ere we
descended into the beautiful Val d'Arno, and entered fair
Florence. The " Quattro Nazioni " was highly recommended
to us as a quiet, comfortable hotel, well situated, and not
extravagant in charges. We went there accordingly for that
night and the next day, resolving to take lodgings on Mon-
day, for the few days' sojourn we purposed making.

FLORENCE.

he pleasure of our stay in Florence was
greatly increased by finding that according
to a plan of reunion, proposed at Naples, Sir

J 0 , with his family, had arrived a

few days previously. The C s also were

here, and had taken up their quarters at the
" Gran' Bretagna."

On Sunday we heard two excellent sermons in
the Protestant Church, from the resident clergyman.
After evening service, we walked home with my

cousins, and settled with Sir J to go with him and his

party, the following day, to the Pitti Palace, and the other
Galleries.

The first thing we did on Monday morning was to set out
in quest of lodgings, and soon found rooms to suit us under
the roof of a young couple lately married. Their house was
newly furnished, and delicately clean : they were themselves
most obliging and attentive, and we, in consequence, very
comfortable. This matter arranged, we were ready to enjoy
Florence ami its many attractions.

ART AND NATURE

So completely was each day spent iii seeing Galleries,
Gardens, Churches, and Museums, I scarcely had time to
make the scantiest notes of what I saw. Even in my own
mind, with a few exceptions, the effect of that week of sight-
seeing resembled the brilliant medley of the kaleidoscope,
more than anything else ; and I found, in attempting to
overtake too much, how greatly the enjoyment of all is
diminished. In this bright though ill-arranged confusion,
however, a few individual objects stand out clear and defined,
and these alone I most he content to notice.

Passing the Vestibules of the Galeria Imperiale, in the
first of which are busts of the Medici family, and in the
second the well-known Florentine " Boar," the corridors are
reached. These are hung round with a collection of the works
of the old masters of the Tuscan school ; and contain also what
interested me much, the busts of the Roman emperors, in an
unbroken series, fromCassar to Constantino. Here and there
I found myself mistaken in assigning names to them, but
generally it is not difficult, from the busts and medallions
one has elsewhere seen, to recognise the characteristics of the
different countenances. Of Nero, there is one as a child,
with a soft, loving expression, and refined and delicate fea-
tures. Opposite, is one of the man — cold, hard, and sinister :
cruelty and selfishness are written in legible characters on
those lineaments. I wondered, as I looked first, on one and
then on the other, if ever he himself had seen that tender
infantine face. Surely it might have awakened better feel-
ings even in his dark bosom !

I stop] ted for a moment before the Bacchus and Faun of
Michael Angelo, more, however, because of a story I remem-
bered reading respecting it, than from particular interest in
the work itself; but, in truth, T was all impatience to reach

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 26]

the " Hall of Niobe," as it is called, from containing the
group of Niobe and her children.

This is almost the only one of the famous productions of
the chisel with which I was at first sight disappointed. I
felt at once the fatal mistake which has been committed in
dividing the group, and thus totally destroying its relative
power and interest. The several attitudes of the members
of the family are almost unmeaning as they now stand round
the room, whereas, grouped together, as doubtless the artist
intended them, each would have its part in the combined
effect. But independently of this, there seemed to me a want
of grace in many of the female figures, and too great an ex-
travagance of attitude in the sons.

This was my first impression on entering the room, but
very soon all idea of criticism was banished from my mind,
as I drew near and beheld the majesty of wo — the self-for-
getting intensity of that mother's anguish, in Niobe herself.
I could scarce resist the idea, that this grief-stricken form,
half-bending, as though to shield her youngest treasure, and
with that despairing look of agony mingled with passionate
entreaty, as though even yet she would sue for pity, were,
in very deed, the bereaved mother — here, on tins spot, and
before my very eyes, thus turned into stone ! The child's
terror is mingled with a touching sense of protection in those
arms, as if he felt that death itself could never reach
him there !

In the Tribune, as in a central shrine, stands the presiding
deity of the place — the matchless Venus di Medici. I wonder
how many pages have been written upon this statue ! If I
never felt it before, assuredly I feel now, how little language
is able to transmit to the mind of another the impressions
which the eye has conveyed to one's own. And surely, in this

262 ART AND NATURE

instance, if copies in the same material have failed to repro-
duce that inexpressible charm which distinguishes the original,
we need not marvel that a mere repetition of words, such as
" lovely," " exquisite," " divine," should utterly fail.

True, there is grace in every limb, and spiritual beauty
in ever}7 lineament ; purity and intellect, like a halo of
light, irradiate her countenance ; and I could almost fancy
her the Eve whom Milton has described, when she was
brought to Adam, as a help-meet for him " who was created
in the image of God." But having said all this or even more,
I still feel inclined to add, let those who would appreciate
this beautiful creation see it for themselves.

The Wrestlers or Lottatori, and the Arrotino, (the latter
said by some to be the slave who discovered the conspiracy of
the sons of Brutus,) are each wonderful specimens of the fide-
lity with which Nature can be imitated by Art ) but they are
of a class which, neither in sculpture nor in painting, possess
any interest for me. I soon turned, therefore, to the choice
paintings which adorn the crimson-coloured drapery of this
little sanctuary. The first I particularly noticed was a "Holy
Family," comprising one of Raphael's lovely Madonnas,
called " del Cardellino," beaming with tender admiration, as
she contemplates the holy Child, who is represented caress-
ing the infant John Baptist. A landscape background is
introduced, contrary to the usual composition of these pictures,
and a wreath of flowers encircles the whole. Next to this is
a picture I have greatly desired to see — " The Fornarina."
The same name is given to several in Rome and elsewhere,
and I wished particularly to compare it with that in the
Berberim Palace. She is a glorious creature certainly, yet
not one of Raphael's exalted conceptions of beauty. The
style of face and colouring is more like Titian than Raphael,

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 263

and conveys the impression of being a portrait rather than
the realization of an ideal of loveliness, which so often, I
think, strikes one in the female figures of the latter. But in
the minute and exquisite finish of every part, the hand of
Raphael is evident. The superb ornaments with which she
is adorned are introduced with marvellous taste, conveying
the same kind of effect, amid the rich dark hair and costly
dress she wears, as the reality might have done, so subdued
is their tone, even while golden gleams of light shine upon
them.

After going through that most interesting Gallery, where
are the portraits of all those painters whose genius has left
such a precious legacy of enjoyment and delight to succeeding
ages, we went next to the Pitti Palace, — at once stationing
ourselves before the " Madonna Seggiola."

What is it that makes this so superior to almost all other
representations of the Virgin ? The beauty of feature here is
not greater than in many others, and there are no accessories
introduced to heighten the effect, — no legend or tradition
attached to the scene to carry away the imagination. I can
only suppose it is the magic sweetness of expression, and perfect
harmony of the colouring. It is a painting which— almost
more than any other— must be seen to be fully appreciated.
There are many copies of it that may fairly be considered
very good pictures, and yet they are devoid of the especial
charm I have spoken of, but cannot describe. The true
child-like loveliness of the infant Jesus is also remarkable
here ; even with that look of earnest thoughtfulness in the
eyes, there is blended the sweet simplicity of childhood,
especially in the rosy mouth and dimpled chin.

It is interesting to know anything connected with the
origin of such a picture as this, and I believe the following

204 AKT A.Mi NATURE

incident actually took place: Raphael was passing through
the streets of a small town, when his artist eye was arrested
by a group in the doorway of a lowly cottage. A young
peasant woman was sitting on the step, holding one rosy
child in her arms, while a second clung to her knee, and
looked ii]» into her face. He was struck with the unconscious
grace and beauty of the group, and fearing to lose the im-
pression, took out his implements to sketch it. Having no-
thing else at hand on which to spread his paper, the top of
an old barrel which stood by, was forthwith made to answer
his purpose, and the circular form of that extempore drawing-
table has the merit, or the fault, as it has been variously esti-
mated, of giving the same to the painting.

The Duomo in Florence is a grand, as well as a singular
edifice. The original design would appear to have been
Tedescan, modified by a style which seems to have found
favour with architects of that period, borrowed, as the learned
suppose, from Egypt and Syria. But it was the fate of this
( athedral to tall into the hands of many builders in suc-
cession, so that it is difficult to say to what style of architec-
ture it really belongs. Yet the general effect is solemn and
imposing. The interior almost takes one by surprise — so
vast, so dark, so shadowy is it. But scarce have you time to
feel the solemnizing effect, ere the rich hues of the painted
windows cast such gleams of radiance among the pillars and
arches, that you can hardly deem it an edifice made by hands,
but rather one of Nature's temples, in the deep green shade
of some primeval forest, with the gold and crimson tints of a
setting summer's sun streaming in broken and divided rays
through the foliage. The one single effect was so pleasing, 1
absolutely refused to look at pictures, ornaments, or any
work of art it contained.

[JNDEB AN ITALIAN SKY. 2(>5

The Campanile of Giotto is a fairy structure — simple in
design, yet richly ornamented. It has been truly said to be

the work o£a painter as well as an architect.

The Baptistery is remarkable for three gates of bronze of
elaborate beauty, on which Michael Angelo bestowed the
most extravagant praise. One was executed by Andrea
Pisano, the other two by Ghiberti. The finest, I think, is
the eastern — representing various striking events in Old Tes-
tament history. When the light falls on them in a parti-
cular way, no chiaro scuro drawing could be finer, so perfect
is the perspective, and the way in which the foreground is
made to project ; nor is the fidelity to the subject, observed
throughout, less worthy of admiration.

VISIT TO FIESOLE.

ke lovely day we accompanied the C s to

X Fiesole. The drive is a delightful and varied
one, now passing amid villas and grassy
slopes, with luxuriant creepers overhanging
the walls,— now winding up the steep ascent
1 ict ween high banks covered with low brushwood.
Wild rose, honeysuckle, and a beautiful kind of
clematis, perfumed the air, and called forth inces-
sant exclamations of delight. Among the many car-
riages, passing and repassing continually, we noticed a
light English-built chariot, in which sat two persons; one,
an old and feeble man, supported by the arm of his com-
panion. He was on the side nearest W , who exclaimed,

■• What a look of Napoleon that old man has !" In return-
ing we encountered the same chariot again, and being all
struck with the likeness, inquired of the man who drove us
who the old gentleman was ; he replied, with a look of sur-
prise at our ignorance, that it was Lucien Bonaparte, the
brother of the Emperor.

On reaching the height whereon the ancient Etruscan city

ART AND NATURE 1 NDl'.i; AN ITALIAN SKY. 2G7

of Fiesole stood, we left the carriage and walked to see a
very perfect specimen of the Cyclopean Wall, which still
runs for a considerable way in an unbroken line along the
northern ridge. The stones of which it is composed are of
enormous size, unhewn and shapeless, yet conveying an idea
of massive strength, combined with rude magnificence which,
in contrast, causes the masonry of modern times to appear
puny and insignificant. This portion of the ancient defences
of the city is scarcely at all injured, either by time or by the
hand of man ; — and after having seen the dwellings and
monuments of successive centuries rise and crumble around
it. still stands to this day, the unfading memorial of a
primeval age.

Upon the supposed site of the fortress, or Acropolis of the
old city, now stands what is in itself a venerable relic of anti-
quity— the Church of St. Alexander, built by Theodoric the
( Jstrogoth, a.d. 52(5.

It is from these heights of Fiesole that one of the finest
views of the Val d'Arno, and of the city sheltered in its
bosom, is to be seen. Surpassingly fair indeed, is " Firenze
la Bella" from this spot. The swelling, undulating line of
her guardian hills — the gentle curves and windings of the
silvery Arno, with its many arched bridges — the domes and
towers of the city rising amid gardens and lofty trees, together
filling up the centre of the fertile plain, are elements of a
scene of gay and smiling attractiveness, which is alike pleas-
ing to the eye and gladdening to the heart !

I admire the dress of the Florentine peasants, especially
the wide brimmed Leghorn hats, by which name wc know
them best. They have evidently, too, an innate love of
flowers which I like to see. I often noticed a freshly
gathered wreath of bright wild flowers gracefully twined

26H ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

round these most picturesque hats; nor must I forget the
pretty flower girl, with whom I made acquaintance near the
Cascine, who presented me almost daily with a tastefully

arranged bouquet, till my room was scented by the sweet
violets which always formed the centre of the fragrant nose-
gay. It is a pretty picturesque custom this, though it may
not in reality be so disinterested as it at first appears.

LEAVING FLORENCE.

E were really sorry when our sojourn in this
,gay and pleasant city came to a close. Our
nice young landlady was full of regret at our
departure, and wished us many a " buon'
viaggio." The Tuscan dialect, of the lower
orders at least, is very peculiar, especially in the
use of the h for the c, wherever the latter ought to
be sounded hard. When I heard the peasants, on
first entering Tuscany, offering " un liavallo" to Ferdi-
) nando, I was puzzled to comprehend what they meant.
Their voices, too, are harsher, and far less pleasing than the
Roman. " Lingua Toscano in bocca Romano," is the com-
mon saying ; and in the implied superiority of the latter, at
all events, I cordially acquiesce.

On Monday, May 8th, we were early on the road, slowly
winding up an ascent on the side opposite to that we had
climbed in going to Fiesole, but commanding the same sin-
o-ularlv rich and varied view. The rays of the morning sun
glittered on the roofs and domes of the city, through the
misty veil which still hung about the banks of the river.

270 ART AND NATURE

Our mid-day resting-place was at a solitary post-house by
the roadside, and on the outskirts of a hanging wood. Hav-
ing brought a basket of provisions with us. we determined to
exchange the close dirty room of the little inn for the shade
of some noble oaks which towered amid the trees of the
wood. Choosing one where the rugged roots provided us
with seals, and the short turf with a table, we spread out the
contents of the basket; and while discussing, in tins primi-
tive fashion, our alfresco meal, enjoyed, through openings in
the wood, views of rich and fertile vales on either side. I
took a sketch of one of these views, with the oak-tree clump
as foreground.

Leaving the cultivated valley behind, we now entered on
the dark and dreary ridges of the Apennines. The scene is
wild and desolate, with none of the sublime grandeur of the
Alps, yet not without a kind of savage picturesqueness of its
own. For miles and miles the road proved a succession of
up hill and down hill ; yet step by step ascending to higher
regions, the face of the country becoming more and more
barren, and the air sensibly more keen. During several hours
we seemed to have the solitary road all to ourselves ; but as
we drew nearer to the night's quarters, we perceived, con-
siderably in advance, dark moving specks, which proved to
be travelling earriages.

Our ever-accommodating Ferdinando had agreed to push
on past Covigliajo, the usual day's journey from Florence,
not only because it was more likely to be crowded, but in
order to reach Pietra Mala, where there is a natural pheno-
menon which we were anxious to visit.

The evening being fine on our arrival, we at once deter-
mined to set off in search of this, having secured the services of
a boy to guide us. It was well we Lad done so, for the path

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 271

was not only rugged and difficult, but by no means easy to
distinguish. The distance from the village was much greater

than we anticipated, so that it was getting quite dusk when
we first came in sight of the " Fuoco di legno." It is a
small circular spot of ground, covered with loose stones, and
not more than ten or twelve feet across. From the surface
of this shoot up numberless little tongues of lambent flame,
in colour and motion like blazing alcohol. It is a most
singular spectacle ; and though there is nothing of the grand
and terrible, yet there is much of the mysterious, and almost
of the supernatural, in the appearance of this fiery spot on
the dark mountain's side. To the uninstructed eye, there
seems no reason why those flickering flames should burn on
continually in one spot — no reason why they should stop
there. Doubtless the scientific would give ready reasons for
both, and tell us of gases exuding from decayed vegetable
matter here imbedded ; but on me the impression was much
more imaginative, as we stood in the gloamiri on that barren
hillside, watching the elfish flames as they danced within the
charmed circle ! It was dark and eerie as we retraced our
steps towards the inn of Pietra Mala, where, probably, we
obtained better accommodation than we should have found
in the more crowded Covigliajo.

Our road next morning still lay over a wild waste of
mountains, with little variety, till we came to Filigare, where
is the boundary of the Tuscan territory. The Dogana is a
fine building, — far too good for its purpose, was my inward
cogitation, — notwithstanding that on this occasion we met
with all courtesy and civility from the officers.

The scenery now becomes more interesting, with occa-
sional deep and wooded ravines, or rather valleys, as they are
better termed. From Lojano to Pianoro, the descent is very

•2~-2 \KT AND NATURE UNDEB AN ITALIAN skv.

abrupt, requiring additional drags upon the wheels. The

views here, from various points of the load, arc exceedingly
striking. Stretching far as the eye can reach, is a chain
of distant snow-capped Alps — the Adriatic, like a streak of
light, is visible on the horizon ; while spread out below are
the wide and fertile plains, with an occasional gleam from
the winding Savenna. On this river stands the ancient city
of Bologna, the capital of the most populous and flourishing
of the states of the ( 'lunch.

Ou entering its wide and handsome streets, the first pecu-
liarity the stranger observes is the covered archway on each
side, giving not only character to its streets, but affording a
most grateful shade from the heat of the sun, and doubtless
also protection from the storms of winter. At the same time
one would suppose they must darken the shops and lower
parts of the houses very dismally, especially in the old part
of the city where the colonnades are low and heavy.

We drove through two or three of the principal streets
to the "Grande Albergo," a comfortable hotel, and more
conveniently placed than the others as regards the public
galleries.

Thanks to the arrangement of our previous night's quar-
ters at Pietra Mala, we were enabled to arrive soon after
eleven o'clock in the morning, thus securing a long day.

BOLOGNA.

he Bolognese School of Painting is one of the
most celebrated, and boasts a constellation
of the brightest genius. Passing over its
earlier epochs, the period of its greatest
■' glory began with the Caracci, in the six-
teenth century, who introduced an entirely new
style of painting, and were remarkable for the
illustrious pupils they produced. Of these, the
first and greatest was Domenichino, who has been
called the second painter in the world — second only
to Raphael. Scarcely inferior to him is Guido, who must
be seen in Bologna to be thoroughly appreciated ; and Guer-
cino, the pupil of Guido, who also belongs to this school.

As soon as we possibly could, our steps were directed to
the Accademia delle Belle Arte : it is a noble collection, ad-
mirably arranged, consisting chiefly of the native school.
The works of the various artists are placed in a great measure
chronologically.

Here is almost a single instance in which I could look at a
painting, where the subject is physical suffering, without dis-

27 I ART AND NATURE

gusl — the "Martyrdom of St. Agnes," by Domenichino. It
is ;i large picture containing a vast number of figures, all
admirable, yet in nothing distracting the eye from the prin-
cipal one. The elevated expression which characterizes the
Martyr at once rivets the attention ; while, as you look upon
thai calm upturned gaze, you forget the bodily suffering she
lias vet to endure, in the heavenly support and consolation
afforded her.

Another masterpiece of this artist I find I have noted
down, the "Madonna del Kosario," — by some considered to
surpass even the St. Jerome in the Vatican.

To the treasures which more properly belong to Bologna,
viz., the productions of her own scholars, has been added a
precious gem of Raphael's — the Santa Cecilia. I was in-
stantly struck with this countenance, not only with its
expressive beauty, but the extraordinary likeness it bears to
one most dear to me.

Different pictures, equally powerful in execution, and even
beautiful in subject, certainly affect the moral sense in very
different degrees. There are many to which one accords the
warmest admiration, and from which one bears away the
must pleasing impression; — for instance, the several pictures
in the Sciarra Gallery, and those three in the Vatican which
I have described. When I actually stood before these, it was
witli an intense perception of their beauty — their powerful
delineation, and the gorgeousness or transparent softness of
their tints. But yet for all this, I seldom think of these
pictures unless accident recall them ; whereas some there are
which visit me in the dreamy hour of half unconscious
musing, and which suggest the mental filling up of a history
by the single page which they unfold. "Abraham dismiss-
ing Eagar" — "The Sibyl" in the Borghese Palace, are

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 275

instances of this ; — and now I have two more to add to
these, which I saw in the Gallery of Bologna.

The first is " Samson having obtained the Victory over
the Philistines," by Guido. Grand, indeed, is the conception
of the subject. A flat low plain lies spread before yon. over
which the dim veil of night is still resting. The horizon is
already streaked with the early dawn of day, and there is
enough of light to reveal the magnificent figure of Samson,
who stands on a rising ground, with the bodies of his fallen
foes lying at his feet — the camp of the Philistines is in the
far distance. All is still — the last groan of the dying has
been hushed — not a sound breaks that awful solitude ! And
the mighty champion himself! — there is no trace of human
passion on those pale stern features — neither of human love
nor pity ! He stands there as the instrument of Almighty
vengeance. Like the destroying angel who passed over the
houses of the Egyptians in the midnight hour, carrying wo
wherever the shadow of his wing rested, — so does Samson
seem here, as it were, removed from earthly sympathy — the
sword in the hand of Him who commanded him to smite —
who gave miraculous power to the mean and insignificant
weapon he had wielded, and which is yet in his grasp.
There is nothing horrible in the scene depicted — no revolting
spectacle of human torture. All is grand, sublime — most
plainly giving this as the interpretation of the incident itself:
" Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord."

Very reluctantly did I turn away from the majestic paint-
ing ; yet but a few paces from it, I was arrested by another,
which called forth the same sort of intense feeling, " The
Massacre of the Innocents." In all respects it is the strongest
contrast to the " Samson." Terror, agony, wild despair, are
each and all here pourtrayed. And while my eye passed

276 ART AND NATURE

from one form of anguish to another, I felt ready to shrink
before the stern determination of those fierce and pitiless
soldiers, as if in living contact with them. I hid my face in
my hands after gazing on one who, by the might of her
mother's Love, has succeeded in shielding as yet her precious
babe by her own form. Oh ! that relentless wretch ! can he
— will he — take the little one even from those bleeding arms !
Again I could almost have screamed aloud, so intense and
living is the wild energy which has hitherto kept at bay that
cruel monster fiercely assailing a fair young creature, whose
infant has as yet escaped his fury, and now lies all uncon-
scious of its danger !

Another — one can but weep for her — calm and still —
despair itself is hushed. She has nothing more to hope —
nothing more to fear ! One sweet innocent lies on her lap,
another at her feet ! Their sufferings are over now !

Near her is one whom despair cannot still — the shock has
hurled reason from her throne — feeling, hope, memory, all
are flown! Look at the frenzy which lights up her eyes —
the long tangled hair thrust back from the hot throbbing
1 in »w. 1 could look no more — and yet distinct and vivid, as
though I still looked upon the terrible tragedy, does each
form and phase of that mother's agony rise up anew. I
almost would I could forget it !

Mr. Beckford calls Bologna "a city of puppy dogs and
sausages." It was probably this remark that made us curious
to experiment upon the latter. Accordingly, when the waiter
brought in tea, we ordered a portion of the renowned condi-
ment. Alas for unsophisticated palates ! The smell alone
was nearly enough — the first mouthful was more than
enough ; and ere a second was even contemplated, we

UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY.

changed our plates, and sent the vile combination of raw-
meat and garlic in disgrace from the room !

A brilliant moonlight evening tempted us out, wearied
though we were. The deep shadows underneath the arches
of the Colonnade contrasted with the strong light beyond,
and we remarked how fitting a time and place it seemed for
the scene of some tale of the lurking assassin, with his
gleaming stiletto. Ere we returned, a distant sound of
music awoke more pleasing associations, and, to our great
delight, a band of performers stopped in the street, near to
our hotel. When we could no longer remain out of doors,
we retired to our rooms, and leaving the windows open to
the soft balmy air, enjoyed till nearly midnight the sweet
and soothing strains.

FERRARA.

). he country between Bologna and Ferrara is
certainly remarkable for fertility, but as re-
markable also for its total want of any
natural beauty to interest the eye. Long
straight lines of road stretch over the dead
levels of the plain, with those interminable rows
of the stiff Lombardy poplar on either side,
tantalizing one at a distance with the promise of
a shade, which, on reaching them, their meagre forms
are incapable of yielding. Wide stagnant ditches run
parallel with the highway for miles and miles, peopled with
myriads of bull-frogs, which morning and evening industri-
ously exert their voices in serenading the passing traveller;
producing, by dint of combined numbers, a sound which,
in loudness and harshness, far exceeded what I could have
supposed within the compass of such tiny lungs.

It was drawing on towards evening when we passed the
ramparts, and entered the once proud and gay, but now-
silent and deserted streets of Ferrara. We noticed, in several
of the most aristocratic-looking squares, the grass growing

ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 279

luxuriantly on the untrodden pavement, while few and far
between were the vehicles of any description visible. We
drove to the principal inn, " Tre Mori," — once I believe a
Royal Palace. You drive under the time-worn arch of an
immense gateway, into a spacious court surrounded by open
corridors, off which are innumerable apartments — once doubt-
less elegant and noble, but now dingy, comfortless, and
unclean.

As onr time here was so very limited, we could do nothing
but glance at the few specimens of the Ferrarese School of
Painting, that still are to be found in the place ; and there-
fore I am unable to give even my own opinion of any of
them. The Cathedral is a Gothic edifice, with an imposing
exterior ; but with peculiarities of architecture which I could
not by any means admire. The front is divided by small
towers into three equal portions, with a circular window in
each, and terminating in a pointed gable surmounted by a
pinnacle. On the porch are very fine bas-reliefs, which have
been beautifully preserved — representing the Last Judgment,
the Life of Christ, and other sacred subjects. Over the door
is a colossal statue of the Virgin in marble, long venerated as
the miraculous Madonna of Ferrara.

We visited none of the other churches, but hastened on to
the great object of curiosity which this ancient city contains
— Tasso's prison, as it is called. A small cell in the Hospital
of St. Anna is pointed out as the place of the great poet's con-
finement. In this miserable little cage he was immured as
an alleged madman for nearly two years, after which he was
removed to a larger apartment contiguous to it. As to the
fact of this being the identical place of Tasso's imprisonment,
different authorities have given conflicting opinions ; but
popular tradition assuredly points out this as such ; and in

280 A.RT AXh NATURE

these cases, the Btranger does wisely not to mar his own en-
joyment, and lessen the interest of the spot, by being too
learnedly sceptical. Byron's name is written with his own
hand on the wall of the cell, and those of other literary cele-
brities are also there.

Another honoured name among Italy's sons of genius is
also recalled with special interest in Ferrara. Near the
('lunch of Santa Maria stands the house which was long in-
habited by Ariosto, and in which he died in 1533. He came
to the university for the purpose of pursuing the study of
law — the profession to wdiich he was first dedicated, but
which he forsook for the more congenial atmosphere of
romance and poetry. I fell in, not long ago, with a sonnet
of this poet, which pleased as well as surprised me, for I was
uot prepared to meet with so much apparent devotional feel-
ing. I give it in the translated form in which I noted it
down.

" How shall my fold and lifeless prayer ascend,
Father of Mercies, to Tin- seat on high,
If while my lips for Thy deliverance call,
My heart against that liberty contend ?
Do Thou wln> knowest all, Thy rescue send.

Though every power of mine the help deny

Eternal * rod, eh ! pardon that 1 went

Erring so long! Whence have mine eyes been smit

With darkness, nor the good from evil known.

To spare offenders, being penitent,

Is even ours ; to drag them from the pit,

Themselves resisting, Lord is Thine alone."

Ferrara was one of those places peculiarly interesting in
Italy, from having given decided encouragement and impulse
to the glorious work of the Reformation. Nor among those
associated with its past, did we forget one whose giant mind

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 281

and powerful energies were consecrated to far higher ends
than those of this world's wisdom or refinement. John
Calvin found an asylum hero during some months of 1535,

under the protection of the Duchesse lienee, daughter of
Louis XII., who was herself a convert to the Protestant faith
under the instructions of the great Reformer.

Our curiosity did not induce us to cross the drawbridge,
and thunder for admittance at the iron-clenched doors of the
huge Castle, or ancient Ducal Palace, which, with its frown-
ing battlements, and deep dark moat around it, stands in the
midst of the town, isolated, like some stern unsympathizing
tyrant, from all connexion with the community around it,
save that of despotic command. In the dungeons of this
gloomy fortress, and beneath the level of those dark waters
which ripple around its walls, deeds of cruelty, as legends
tell, have been often perpetrated.

Ferrara is a place of much interest connected with bygone
ages — both in its political and intellectual history. Wealth,
genius, and nobility were, during many generations, congre-
gated there ; but the glory alike of court and of commerce
has departed from her. Nor were we, I confess, sorry to
follow the example, and to bid adieu, the morning after our
arrival, to this melancholy and lifeless city of the past.

Our route from Ferrara lay through the same monotonous
level of fertile country. Monselice is a prettily situated little
town — remarkable for the bold and picturesque position of
its Castle upon an overhanging rock, and remarkable also
for swarms of vipers winch infest every bank and ruined wall
in its neighbourhood.

PADUA.

fter another monotonous drive through level
meadows and swamps intersected with canals,
we arrived at Padua. Being yet early in the
day, and having two or three hours to bestow
upon the curiosities of the ancient and learned
city, we sallied forth to make the most of them.

The environs are peculiar from the many open

spaces of waste ground that occur among the

irregular streets and villas which seem straggling here

~ Co o

and there without any definite plan. This gives the
appearance of a city originally designed to be of a much larger
extent than it has attained to ; or else of one that has been
partially destroyed, and the ruins totally swept away. Beyond
the houses there is a large extent of uncultivated and unen-
closed land, having somewhat the appearance of English
doums, stretching away mi every side.

The city walls and fortifications are now little more than
dilapidated ruins ; lint some few towers and gateways still
remain, which shew that the once proud appellation of
" Padova la Porte" was not misapplied.

ART AM) NATURE UNDER AX ITALIAN SKY. 283

According to the earliest tradition, Padua owed its first
origin to Antenor, who founded it when he migrated to
Italy, shortly after the destruction of Troy ; and I suppose
there is not much doubt that it Avas this same Antenor who,
being canonized by the Church, during the dark ages, under
the cognomen of St. Anthony, became thenceforth the patron
saint of the city. This incongruity, extraordinary as it seems,
is the less improbable from the fact, that on the discovery,
in the thirteenth century, of the supposed skeleton of Antenor
contained in a sarcophagus which was dug up in laying the
foundations of one of the public hospitals, the mortal remains
of the ancient pagan were deposited within the sacred pre-
cincts of the Church of San Lorenzo. Though the church
has been removed, the sarcophagus is still permitted to remain
upon the consecrated ground.

The Cathedral is a huge and massive structure, but with
little pretensions either to beauty of ornament or grandeur of
design. Michael Angelo was the original architect, but as it
was not finished till nearly two centuries after his death, it is
probable that little of his plan was carried out.

The building which most excites one's interest, because
most connected with the national character and traditions of
the Paduans, is the Palazzo della Eazione, erected by Pietro
Cozzo in the end of the twelfth century. This immense edi-
fice stands in the market-place, and is supported entirely
upon open arches. It is surmounted by one great pyramid-
like roof, the sombre colour and gigantic proportions of which
render it a striking object the moment it comes in view.
This roof, indeed, was long one of the wonders of the wrorld,
not only on account of certain mechanical principles employed
in its formation, but from being the largest ever constructed
independent of the support of pillars from the interior. Alas,

28 I ART AND NATURE

that in these days it should have to yield in this last respect

to many a railway station ! We were greatly pleased with
(lie venerable old hall which it covers. The style is a mixed
Grothic, and the general effect at once quaint and imposing.
The ceiling, or rather the concave of the roof, is of open
i;i It i 'is, the lower extremities of which reach down almost to
the floor. The proportions of the hall are immense, being
little short of three hundred feet in length and one hundred
feet in breadth ; while being less lofty in comparison, these
measurements would be guessed at even more. The windows
arc very small, and just afford light sufficient to cast an im-
pressive gloom through the vast echoing chamber, and upon
the strange mystical figures and devices painted upon the
walls. The latter are said to have been the work of Giotto ;
and though some of them are damaged and marred, not less
by lame attempts to restore them than by the original cause
of damage itself, yet the beauty and antique character of
many are still most evident, and have been wonderfully pre-
served amid repeated casualties that might have occasioned
their destruction. The prevailing subjects of these paintings
are connected with astronomy and astrology, with personifi-
cations, in some of the compartments, of the Moral Virtues,
and of the Seasons.

At the top of the hall is what is called the Monument of
Livy, whom the Paduans claim as a native of their territory,
having been born at Abano. Opposite to this is the sal tie
block of stone called the Lapis Vituperii, on which insolvent
debtors were formerly required, during a certain time, to sit
exposed to public ignominy, as the condition on which they
miglit he held as cleared.

The chief attraction to the lover of art, in Padua, is a little
church erected within the ancient Roman amphitheatre — as

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 285

its name Wears — the Chapel of the "Annunziata della Arena."
It is usually, however, called " Giotto's Chapel," on account
of the beautiful and elaborate frescoes with which his pencil
has decorated the whole of its interior. These frescoes were
the especial admiration and delight of Titian, who adopted
many of them as studies and copies in the composition of his
own works. The subjects are taken from the Bible, and from
the apocryphal books ; and it is said that many of the scenes
and ideas depicted were suggested to the artist by Dante, who
lived in the same house with Giotto, while the latter was
engaged in the work. We had so little time to devote to
this wonderful chapel, which, in fact, it woidd require days
to do justice to, that I am unable, even if time and space
would allow, to give any detailed account of the paintings in
it, though several of them struck me powerfully, even in our
hasty glance at them. Over the entrance is a representation
of the Last Judgment, the general idea of which seems taken
from expressions in the Book of Revelations. Far removed
as I always feel such subjects to be above the proper and
legitimate province of the artist's pencil, I could not but
acknowledge that here the figure of our Lord, receiving and
welcoming the just in their "white robes," is very grand and
solemn.

The general series of paintings on the sides of the chapel is
divided into three. The first series contains scenes and inci-
dents from the life of the Virgin — principally from ecclesias-
tical traditions and legends. Some, however, are very touch-
ing and beautiful, both in conception and execution. The
second series contains the life of our Lord. This, in the
colouring and even outline of many of the figures and groups,
has been grievously injured, but in others these are quite
fresh and perfect. The Resurrection of Lazarus, which forms

286 ART A.\l> NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY.

the ninth division, is a remarkably fine composition. The
body of the entombed man, in the wit act, as it were, of
casting oft* the fetters of death and awaking into life, with the
bands and cerements of the grave around him, the awe-struck
countenances of the figures Btanding by, the calm majesty of
the Saviour himself, to whose voice even the dull cold ear of
deatli lias thus responded, seemed to me all magnificently
brought out. The third series is a continuation of scenes
from the history of our Lord. Of this, that which represents
the Deposition from the Cross is considered the finest com-
position— indeed, by some, the master-piece of all Giotto's
works. The deep affliction of the mother of Jesus, and the
characteristic expression given to the countenances of the two
disciples who are about to receive the body for its burial, are
thought to be unrivalled, in force and faithfulness, by any of
his other performances. There are other compartments un-
derneath this series, containing subjects of a less interesting-
description, — allegories and symbolical figures of various
kinds, — but we could not stay to examine them.

On leaving the chapel we found the hour fixed for starting
so close at hand, that avc had to abandon all idea of seeing
any of the other churches. Hurrying back to the hotel, we
ordered out the carriage, and drove down to the Railway
Station, in time to catch the afternoon train to Venice ;
sending Ferdinando and his horses back to Padua, there to
enjoy, till our return, the dolce far' niente, of which the latter,
at all events, stood not a little in need.

VENICE.

'( es ! the train to Venice ! AVhat an unpoetical
^ idea ! In our impatience, however, we were
little disposed to quarrel with it ; and as we
took our seats in a comfortable carriage,
' gladly anticipated our rapid advance. I was
quite fascinated with one of the loveliest chil-
dren I have seen, who, with her mother, was in
the second division of the same carriage with
The latter, a gentle, pleasing, lady-like Italian,
1 seemed delighted with my admiring glances at her
child, and the little one had kissed her hand to me several
times, when the ingress of sundry coarse, disagreeable
Italians, with their loud voices and violent gesticulations,
gave me an excuse to cross to the other side of the car-
riage. Her sweet simplicity and perfect child-like manner
were quite refreshing, after the affected and forward appear-
ance, both in manner and dress, so usual in children abroad.
The thick masses of silky black hair curled naturally, and
hung down her neck ; her soft, sweet, dark eyes, beaming
with gladness, almost made one merry to look at, — and yet

ART AM' NATURE

their earnesl thoiightfulness, when Bhe ceased to smile, was

not less beautiful. I was pleased with the mother also, with
whom I tried to converse. We spoke of Venice — of its past
history and present state ; and her whole face lighted up as
Bhe told me something of its days of pride. Alas! how is
the glory departed now. And yet, apart from what is excit-
ing to the imagination in these bygone days of her pomp and
splendour, can one regret the overthrow of the complicated
system of tyranny, injustice, and cruelty that existed in the
days of the two memorable Councils ?

However, as was natural in a Venetian, she spoke with
enthusiasm of their old customs and institutions, expressing
most strongly her feelings with regard to the proceedings of
the French, when they occupied Venice. Certainly, the im-
pression which the whole of Italy gives of the conduct of
Napoleon's army, during their campaign there, is anything
but favourable. Such frequent abuse of power, such wanton
destruction even of works of art, such sacrilegious despoiling
of churches and galleries of their treasures and their orna-
ments, cannot surely on any ground be justified.

Meanwhile, thus conversing, we had rapidly advanced, and
very shortly my friend asked me to take her place and look
out. We were, at the moment, on a raised viaduct which
conducts the railroad about two miles across the sea from the
mainland, — while beyond, literally rising out from the water,
rose the fair domes and minarets of the "Bride of the
Adriatic." A very little time took us to the terminus. —
in a few minutes more I had bid adieu to the mother
and her child, and stood on the verge of one of the broad
canals.

Having arranged about passports, and settled with one of
the numerous boatmen who offered their services, we stepped,

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 289

for the first time, into a gondola. These graceful little vessels
quite realize the romantic ideas one forms of them. The
absence of all felt motion,— the swift, noiseless, gliding ad-
vance,—the luxurious seats, on which one reclines as on a
sofa, — and even the dark funereal appearance— (those in
ordinary use being painted black, and their awnings of the
same sombre hue,)— all is in keeping with the poetry and
mystery associated with this strange place. The graphic pen
of Kogers has done what I think is ever acceptable to the
traveller on such occasions, embodied in beautiful and appro-
priate lines, one's own sensations on first entering the unfa-
miliar precincts of Venice : —

" There is a glorious city in the sea ;
The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets.
Ebbing ami flowing ; and the salt sea weed
< 'lings to the marble of her palaces.
No trade of men, no footsteps to and fro,
Lead to her gates : the path lies o'er the sea,
Invincible ; ami from the land we went
As to a floating city,— steering in
And gliding up her streets as in a dream.
So smoothly — silently — by many a dome.
Mosque-like, and many a stately portico ;
The statues ranged along an azure sky, —
By many a pile in more than Eastern pride,
< >f old the residence of merchant-kings ;
The fronts of some, though Time had shattered them,
Still glowing with the richest hues of art,
As though the wealth within them had run o'er."

In spite of all our delight at finding ourselves in Venice,
our first impressions were not enhanced by the extreme diffi-
culty we found in getting rooms. Owing to the expected
arrival of the Empress of Russia that very day, every place
but the most wretched apartments seemed taken. For two

290 ART AM' NATURE

hours we glided from inn to inn, till al lasl we were forced

to content ourselves with a hack-room in the Leone Bianco,
tolerably comfortable hut rather dull. So far it was well, as
this hotel stands mi the Grand Canal, and even its back-
rooms are less dark and drear)' than those of others that look
to the front — into one of the narrow gloomy canals which
intersecl the interior of the city.

As soon as we had landed our Luggage, and paid the exor-
bitant demands of the gondolier, who, of course, took advan-
tage of the arrival of strangers, we sent to the post-office.
Alas, a sad disappointment ! none of the letters expected had
arrived. Alter the intense heat had a little abated, we
walked through some of the narrow streets, or rather pas-
sages, which form the only land communication between the
different parts of the town. These led us, after some wan-
dering, to the Piazza San Marco. What a scene is that as it
bursts upon the stranger ! Familiar as a thousand pictures
may make one with the form and position of the different
buildings, nothing, I am certain, can lessen the powerful
impression of the reality. The Piazza San Marco seems to
recall the whole history, and to place before the eve the
entire ideal, so to speak, of Venice. The Palace of her Doge,
the Ducal Chapel, the mansions of her high officers of state,
the prisons of her criminals — every token of national religion,
national dignity, and national power — all are here concen-
trated and brought within one glance. The domes and
cupolas of San Marco, the glittering pinnacles and golden
mosaics, the vivid colours of the frescoes, the antique fretted
gothic work, tin.1 splendid columns of richest marbles-
green, purple, yellow, and almost transparent white, the
celebrated gilt bronze horses over the central arch of the
portal, constitute a vision of magic splendour quite incon-

UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 291

ceivable. On the right hand rises the princely pile of the

Doge's palace, — its very name calling up memories of power
and magnificence. A little to the side are the two granite
columns so intimately associated with the history of the
Republic: the one bearing "the winged lion of St. Mark,"
— the other the statue of St. Theodore, erst patron-saint
of the fair city, until St. Mark usurped the popular vene-
ration.

Immediately in front of San Marco are the three bronze
pedestals of Alessandro Leopardo, in which are inserted the
masts from which once proudly waved the three gonfalons of
silk and gold, signifying the three dominions of the Republic
— Venice, Cyprus, and the Morea, — or, some say, their portion
of Constantinople and the Eastern Empire. The mighty
gonfalons have now given place to the ample folds of white
and scarlet of the Austrian standards. More to the right.
and farther in, towards the middle of the Piazza, is the
grand, grave, old Tower of the Campanile. There is some-
thing striking in its stern simplicity of material and design,
amidst the rich exuberance of ornament around. At first, it
seems rather out of place, hut as you look again there is that
in its noble height and massive strength which is undoubtedly
imposing, and makes it that fitting memorial of yet earlier
ages, which in truth it is, — having stood there nearly a
thousand years. At the end of the Piazza nearest the
Cathedral, is the Tower of the Orologio, which completes
the unrivalled group. Its great orb is resplendent with blue
and gold, with a figure of the sun travelling round the
zodiacal signs upon it, and marking the time of twice twelve
hours. Above are two immense bronze figures which, with
ponderous hammers, beat the different hours upon the greal
hell between them.

292 A.RT ANI> NATURE

After walking round the Piazza, we entered the Cathedral.
The gilt ground of the mosaics conveys the idea of its being
lined with gold, and while the effect is exceedingly rich, yet
from the absence of Btrong light, it is not too Bhowy. Bui per-
haps it is not the first time one sees the interior that it is fully
appreciated, It is so totally unlike anything else in Europe,
that 1 think one feels more inclined to wonder than to admire
— admire at least to the extent one does after becoming
more familiarized with its mosque-like magnificence. I find
it interesting to look back on the various cathedrals I have
seen ; beginning with the fairy tracery work of Antwerp, —
then the mingling of grandeur and magnificence at Cologne,
— the imposing height and solemnity of the noble Gothic
pile at Strasbourg, — the dream-like beauty of the Donio at
Milan, — the palladian edifices of Pisa and Sienna, the un-
rivalled dome and stupendous majesty of St. Peter's, — and
recalling the feelings peculiar to each, turn to this strange
and unfamiliar building. No sensation of awe, such as I
have often experienced, mingles with the admiration which
cannot but be excited by the gorgeous splendour of the
Byzantine style of architecture exhibited in St. Mark's.
Vain would be the attempt to describe the endless variety of
objects on which the eye falls. Trophies from many a distant
shore ; marble tablets bearing Syrian inscriptions, and inter-
spersed with allegorical representations, now of Pagan myth-
ology, and anon of Prophets and Evangelists ; figures wrought
in purple porphyry from Acre ; Gothic work in bronze, silver,
and stone, executed by the famous Venetian goldsmiths ; nor
must 1 omit to mention the Pala d'Oro, made at Constanti-
nople, famous alike for the splendour of its decorations and
its great antiquity.

We did not stay long, as we were impatient to enjoy the

UNDER AN ITALIAN' SKY. ~',:>

delights of an evening on the Grand Canal. Choosing, on
this occasion, a barchetta or open gondola, we soon found
ourselves gliding into the great thoroughfare of the city. It
is impossible to imagine anything of the kind more enjoy-
able than the noiseless rapidity with which we darted through
the tiny rippling waves, while the cool fresh air from the
water fanned us ; — our gondolier, meanwhile, pointing out
each locality to which an interest was attached, — this, the
abode of the Doge Marino Falieri,— there, the Palazzo of the
Foscari, one of the mightiest families in other days, — to the
right, Lord Byron's Palace,— farther on, to the left, the
Palazzo Correr, (now the post-office ;) — and so he went on,
each few strokes of the oar bringing one to some fresh object of
attraction. We spent more than three hours upon the water,
and then returned to the Piazza, which, at this later period
of the day had assumed a peculiarly characteristic appear-
ance. It was crowded with people walking up and down in
the centre. At the sides, and in front of the arches were
little tables surrounded with chairs, where groups both of
ladies and gentlemen were enjoying ices and coffee. We,
too, determined to be Venetians ; and taking possession of
one of the little tables, with its surrounding seats, we sent
for those most seasonable luxuries, and then enjoyed to the
full a band of military music. It was very delicious, and
though only the second week in May, the air felt so soft and
balmy that we remained in the Piazza till ten o'clock, and
then returned to the hotel.

Next morning, at breakfast, we received, to our great joy,

the expected letter from Mr. M , telling us of his being

at Venice. He joined us almost immediately after, and a
happy meeting indeed it was. He lost no time in sending
for his luggage, and securing a room in the Leone Bianco.

20 I ART ANH MATURE

Ere long we had not only talked over our mutual adventures
since we parted in Scotland, and many mutual interests and
friends, but had arranged that he should accompany us on

our homeward mute by the Tyrol, and through Southern
Germany, visiting, on our way to the Rhine, the ancient
towns of Nuremberg and Wurtzburg.

About eleven o'clock we all went in a gondola to the Belle
Arte. There arc many line paintings here of this far-famed
school; Lut, as a collection, I thought it inferior to that of
either Florence or Bologna.

The most celebrated picture is the Assumption of the
Virgin, by Titian. The celestial light around the Virgin, and
the solemn grandeur of the group of figures below, are very
impressive. The colouring of the drapery around the Ma-
donna is rich and splendid, but it too partakes of what seems
to me the fault of the whole picture, a want of lightness and
grace. The figure is heavy and large, and the colours want
■ i something aerial, which is so admirably given by Raphael,
in the Madonna di Foligno, and many others. Immediately
opposite Titian's, is a picture very highly thought of, by
Tintoretto. At first one is only struck with the horrible
reality of the suspended execution, — the subject being "The
deliverance of the Venetian Slave by St. Mark, at the very
moment of his execution." Altogether, it is very unpleasing,
though, at the same time, the power and energy thrown into
the attitudes and countenances, leave no room to question
its great merit. One that satisfied me much more, however
inferior as to force of painting, is by Paris Bordone, " The Old
Fisherman presenting to the Doge the Ring found in the
Lido." A view, by Gentile Bellini, of the Piazza San Marco
in olden times, witli a procession, is interesting, as shewing
the Piazza as it was in 1496, together with the costume of

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. -•''

the period in the animated figures with which the lore-
ground is filled.

While we were still in the Gallery, the Princess Olga,
daughter of the Emperor of Russia, a very beautiful woman,
came in with her suite, passing elose by us. At first, we sup-
posed it was the Empress, and were greatly impressed with
the commanding dignity of her step, and the regal grandeur
of her manner.

In the early morning, Mr. M and I ascended to the

Belfry of the Campanile. First, we mounted by a continuous
inclined plane, and then by steps round an inner tower. This
is open here and there, and most awful it is to look down
into the dark deep well beneath ; but I carefully avoided
turning my eyes much in that direction, and, by keeping close
to the wall, managed to get on very well. The parapet which
surrounds the gallery at the top is so high that any one can
look from it without a sensation of nervousness— a very great
advantage to those who suffer as I do in such situations.^ I
would not on any account have missed enjoying the view
from the Campanile, since none other can give one so complete
an idea of the city. The morning is a particularly favourable
time to see it, as the horizontal rays bring out every part,
This bird's-eye view shews one the various canals, which, like
veins, intersect it ; the Grand Canal being always conspicuous
as the main artery. Another advantage of this position is,
that it is sufficiently, yet not too much elevated to enable one
to distinguish the position of the different palaces, churches,
&c. We could willingly have lingered a while, but having
devoted this clay to the Doge's Palace and several Galleries,
were reluctantly obliged to retrace our steps.

Having found W at the place of rendezvous, we im-
mediately repaired to the Cortile of the Palazzo. A beautiful

290 A.RT AN1» NATURE

fountain occupies the centre of the court, and one is struck
with the perfeci harmony with which the most diversified
m\ If of ornament and architecture have been made to blend
together. The Scala dei Giganti, constructed of the finest
marble, leads to the Scala d'Oro, where were once the terrible
lions' mouths, but of which only the apertures now remain.
As it would be quite impracticable to give anything- like a
full account of the numberless rooms, I can only name a few
which either were in themselves remarkable, or contained
pictures deserving of especial notice.

In the Sala delle Quattro Porte is Titian's well-known
"La Fede;" with which, however, we were all alike disap-
pointed. The presence-chamber which opens from this hall,
and in which the Doge and his council received foreign Am-
bassadors, is of noble dimensions, adorned with some fine
national paintings of Paul Veronese. The Sala del Senato
interested me greatly, from retaining much of its original
character and arrangement. The tribune for the speakers —
nay, even the candlesticks used when discussions were pro-
longed into the midnight hour — could not but bring to mind
the glorious days of this once haughty Republic. These were
pleasing associations, and very different from others soon after
railed forth, as I entered, with a shudder, the Sala dei Dieci.
Here sat the dread tribunal on whose lightest word depended
the lives and liberty of thousands. The very chairs are standing
there at the upper end of the hall, apparently just as they were
last used, the crimson morocco cushions worn and faded ! I
sat down on one of those, and for an instant fancied it endowed
with power to tell the fearful tragedies of which it had been the
unconscious witness ! Oh, if that lifeless frame had language,
how thrilling would be its revelations ! Vet more terrible still
are the associations connected with the smaller, the " Hall of

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 297

Three," which is close beside that of the "Ten." This
apartment is destitute of any ornament, and with no relics of
its reign of terror save the roof and floor, which are as of
old. In one of its side walls, however, is the narrow passage,
or throat, with which the Lion's Mouth outside communicated.

The " Sala del Consiglio" is a magnificent room : Mr. M

took its measurement, one hundred and fifty-four feet long,
and seventy-four feet wide. It is to be regretted, I think,
that it has been converted into a Museum. The paintings
commemorating the power and prosperity of the Eepublic
yet remain, however, and are interesting as among the first
specimens of oil-painting in which canvas was employed, —
the Venetian school being the earliest to adopt it. One of
these, by Tintoretto, is said to be the largest ever painted on
canvas, being seventy-four feet in length. I was particularly
pleased with one of Bassano's, "The Pope delivering the
Consecrated Sword to the Doge." It is most interesting from
the scene being the Piazza San Marco ; while the perspective
of the buildings, and of the groups of figures placed beneath the
arches and in various other situations, is admirable. Passing
more hastily over several by Paul Veronese, Bassano, Palma,
and Tintoretto, I was particularly arrested by the subject of
one, by Palma, " The Siege and Conquest of Constantinople
by the Crusaders," led on by the venerable Dandolo. Can one
look on this animated picture, and not think of the yet more
powerful portrait drawn by the pen of Rogers : —

" In that temple porch,
( >ld as lie was, and in his hundredth year,
And blind — liis eyes put out — did Dandolo
Stand forth, displaying on his crown the cross.
There did he stand erect — invincible ;
Though wan his cheeks, and wet with many tears,
For in his prayers he had been weeping much ;

298 ART ANH NATURE

Ami now the pilgrims and the people wepl

With admiration, — Baying in their hearts,

■ Surely thoBe aged limhs have need of rest !'"

On leaving the Doge's Palace, we agreed to proceed nexi
to the Churches of San Giovanni and Paolo, and Santa Maria
della Salute, partly for the sake of obtaining the refreshment
of a quiet half hour in a gondola on our way thither. San

Giovanni is in the peculiar Yeneto-Gothic style, differing
greatly in its solemn grandeur from the exuberance of orna-
ment in the Cathedral. Its effect is heightened by the
brilliancy of the painted windows, which 1 rejoiced to see
once more, and which are very rare in Yenice. The monu-
ments to the Doges, who are buried in this church, are very
numerous, but any description would be tedious.

Before returning. Mr. M accompanied me to the

Manfrini Palace, famed for its collection of pictures. There
I saw. among others, a very lovely Carlo Dolce, and two
Titians. of which Lord Byron speaks enthusiastically ; one
an Ariosto, which it is scarcely possible to overestimate; the
other is the Queen of Cyprus. The rare beauty of the orna-
ments she wears almost eclipses her own ; though her eyes,
as well as the expression of her face, are very lovely.

Perhaps we were hardly able to do justice to this gallery,
as in truth 1 was utterly worn out with bodily fatigue. An
evening spent in a gondola, after the refreshment of ices and
coffee, recruited me metre than anything else could have done,
and prepared me for enjoying with renewed zest a most
animated scene next day — a regatta on the Grand (anal.

Singularly fortunate were we in witnessing a spectacle so
characteristic of Yenice in her palmy days. It was to the
presence of the Empress of Kussia we owed this gratification.
Of the actual trial of speed between the competing gondolas

UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 299

I can say nothing, as 1 did not witness it ; but the subse-
quent corso upon the Grand Canal was delightful. Crowds
of gondolas gliding here and there, many of them gorgeously
decorated ; gay barchettas, some with bands of music on
board. The gondoliers clad in the ancient costumes of their
picturesque craft — some in black velvet jackets, with slashed
sleeves, and white feathers in their caps ; others in a dress of
pale blue and silver ; and again a crew gleaming in all the
splendour of golden coloured satin. As now and then the
livery of some noble Venetian House was recognised, the
names of " Foscari," " Manfrini," or others, would echo
through the crowd, who welcomed their favourite gondolas
with loud huzzas. After a while the royal party was recog-
nised amid the throng. The Empress was in a barque highly
ornamented, and lined with white and gold ; while that of
the beautiful Princess Olga was adorned with blue and
silver ; in harmony, we thought, with her fair and deli-
cate complexion. We passed both the imperial ladies several
times ; indeed, in the pressure of the crowd, immediately
below the Rialto, we were at one moment in some little
danger from the gondola of the Empress. With the formid-
able serrated plate of steel, which forms the invariable orna-
ment on the bows of these vessels, it struck against ours with
some force, but fortunately so near the stern as only to cause
a little alarm. The Empress looked rather frightened, and
expressed her hope that no injury had been done, bowing

with much graciousness to us, as W and Mr. M

stood up, with their hats off, to acknowledge her courtesy.
Among her suite I saw Prince F , but could only ex-
change a smile and bow of recognition, so dense was the
crowd.

Only one evening more now remained to us ; and what an

300 AKT ANIi NATURE

evening it was ! realizing, nay, surpassing, all our dreams of
the enchantment of Venice! First, the radiant hues of as
bright a sunset as ever lighted even an Italian sky, east a
glow of golden beauty far and wide over sea and city. A
lew minutes later, the tallest towers and domes alone caught,
as it were, the parting ray, and shone like burnished gold;
and just as we entered on the Lagunes, its farewell tint of
crimson lingered, ere it laded into that short twilight which
delays but briefly the reign of night's gentle queen. Dark
and still, indeed, seemed those waters around us, beneath
that cold grey twilight, and gloomy the vast buildings that
seemed to float upon their leaden surface ! Yet it did but
enhance the loveliness of the glorious flood of moonlight that
followed. Speedily, beneath that magic touch, all looked
more fair than ever. Perhaps the mellow light dealt more
tenderly with the fallen glory of the Adriatic bride, casting a
friendly shade o'er Time's rude havoc ! Perhaps the soft
melancholy of the hour suited the ruin and decay of her
once gorgeous beauty, — or was it that its witching effects
were in ourselves alone ? I know not — but few were the
words we spoke. The spell of the hour was upon us, and
even a whisper seemed too harsh a sound ; something there
was in that evening scene and all its accompaniments, that
seemed not to belong to real life — that refused to blend with
ruder and more commonplace associations !

Strange, indeed, was the transition from the stillness of
those moonlit waters, to a brilliant illumination in the Piazza
San Marco \ Vet not less calculated was the scene there to
awaken imagination's most vivid play, as those gorgeous
edifices shone forth beneath the light of many thousand
lamps, in colours as variecl as the mosaic tints they shone
upon. Every part of those vast buildings, every arch, every

UNDEB AX ITALIAN SKY. 30]

window, was marked with lines of coloured light ; brilliant
meteors flashed in the sky, and devices of every kind in
fireworks, shed a dazzling radiance around. To this illu-
mination, in honour of the Empress, was added the most
inspiriting music, from bands placed in different parts of
the square ; and in the enjoyment of their delicious strains,
and of the beautiful and gorgeous spectacle around, quickly
passed away our last evening in fair Venice.

THE END.

KIIINBl'KGn : T. CONSTAKJ.K, PKISTEH TO Jill! V.\.U..-

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The Lady Howard de Walden, 19, Cavendish Square, Lorn

The Lady Willoughby de Eresby, 142, Piccadilly, London,

Mrs. Dampier, Colinshavs, Somerset,

Miss Dampier, .

Miss E. P. Dampier, .....

Miss C. F. Dampier. .....

iod,

No. of Ci
Large.
0

II
(I
o

(I
(I
0
0
0

ipies.

Sumll.

I
I

(»

]

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

No. of Copies.

Large.
Eev. Charles E. Dampier, Thornford Rectory, Dorset, . 1

The Lady Harriet Bentinck, 19, Cavendish Square, London, 0

The Hon. Mrs. Arthur Kinnaird, Hyde Park Gardens, London, 1

The Hon. Miss Waldegrave, 4, Park Square, Eegent Park, London, 0

Mrs. Hugh Seymour, 30, Upper Brook Street, London, . 1

The Honorahle Lady Heatheote, Normanton, Oakham, Rutland, 0

E. W., hy Miss Bentinck, 19, Cavendish Square, London, . 0

The Dowager Countess Grey, .... 1

Lady Carnegie, Dynevor House, Leamington, . . 1

Miss Carnegie, ...... o

Rev. David Mead, South Brewham, Somerset, . . 1

Mrs. Thomas Lyon, Yeovil, Somerset, • 0

Miss Lecount, ...... 0

Mrs. Eastment, Wincanton, Somerset, . . . 0

The Lady Wharncliffe, ..... o

The Honorahle Lady Grey, 14, Eaton Place, London, . 1

The Honorable Mrs. F. Calthorpe, . . . . l

Mrs. Frank Noel, Teeston, ..... o

The Honorahle Lady Grey, 7, Seamore Place, London,

The Dowager Lady Huntingfield, Grosvenor Square, London,

The Earl Bandon, Castle Barnard, Cork,

The Countess Bandon,

Mrs. Ridley, Green Hammerton Hall, York, .

Mrs. Empson, Spcllow Hill, Boroughbridge, .

Mrs. Boucher, Thornhill, Blandford, Dorset, .

Rev. Robert D. Owen, Boroughbridge,

Mrs. Charles Pinney, Camp House, Clifton, ... 0

The Count de Villeneuve, Portman Square, London, . 1

The Countess de Villeneuve, .

Mrs. Cooper, Dorchester, ..... n

Miss Elizabeth Carnegie, Dynevor House, Leamington, . 0

Miss Hippesley, 6, Chester Square, London, . . 0

The Countess of Rosebery,

The Lady Anne Tuffnell,

Mrs. Scott, Church House,

The Countess of Zetland, Arlington Street, London,

The Countess of Clanwiiliam,

The Countess Bruce, 78, Pall Mall, London,

Small.
0
1
0
2
0
1
1
0

]
I
\

1
II

{)

0
0
0
0

2
0
0

1
1
1
0

0
0
0
0
0

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

Mrs. Scott, Buccleuch Place, Langholm,

Mrs. Thomas Borthwick, Hopsrig, Langholm,

The Marchioness of Breadalbane,

The Countess of Seafield,

The Lord Brougham. Brougham Hall,

Alexander Borthwick, Esq., Mosspeebles, Langholm,

Mrs. Borthwick, Westerhall, Langholm,

The Marquess of Lansdowne, Lansdowne House, London,

The Duke of Rutland, Belvoir Castle, Rutland,

Miss D. Penny, Cambridge Terrace, Regent's Park, London

The Countess Dowager of Craven, .

The Lady Katherine Molyneux,

Charles Grenfell, Esq.,

Miss Grenfell, •

The Lady Louisa Molyneux, .

The Countess of Eglintoun, Eglintoun Castle,

James Fairbairn, Esq., Westerker, Langholm,

Hamilton Hamilton. Esq., Brighton,

Mrs. Hamilton Hamilton,

Robert Harington, Esq., West Grange, Edinburgh,

Mrs. Harington,

A Friend,

Rev. Dr. Worsley,

Mrs. Worsley,

Alexander Oswald, Esq., Auchincruive, Ayr,

The Lady Louisa Oswald,

Westerkirk Parish Library, .

Mrs. Benson, Tcddington,

Mrs. Hamilton Forsyth, Clifton,

Mrs. Fillcul, Jersey, .

Mrs. Frederick Wills, Bristol,

Mrs. Newnham, Guildford,

Mrs. Dclmar Thompson,

E. Wilkinson, Esq., .

E. Crompton, Esq.,

Dr. Roscoe,

Dr. Parish,

Mrs. .T. Wilson Croker,

Large

pf Copies.
Small
0

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

No.

">f Copies.

Lady Barrow, . ' °

Small.

Mrs. Pinnell,

[

Mrs. Gifford,

Major Straith, Addiscombe, .

Mrs. Carleton, through Mrs. Straith,

Mrs. Blain and Friend, through Mrs. Straitl

Basingstoke Book Society,

Rev. Mr. Blatch, Basingstoke,

Bev. Sir J. H. C. Seymour, Bart.,

()

Captain Inglefield, B.N.,

A Friend, through Admiral Hawker,

William H. Hawker, Esq., .

A Friend, through Admiral Hawker,

Bev. W. G. Sawyer,

]

Miss Sawyer,

]

Mrs. Arthur Currie, .

Mrs. F. G. Cresswell, Grosvenor Square, Loi

idon,

Sir John Bichardson, Portsmouth,

J. H. Bulwer, Esq.,

Mrs. Bulwer,

Miss Green,

Mrs. Hoskins, Gosport,

Mrs. Kendal, Alverstock,

Miss Larcom, Anglesea, Gosport,

Lady Bingham, Christchurch, Hants,

Lieutenant T. G. Simpkinson, B.N.,

Bev. Leonard Burrows, Bugby,

Bev. Dr. Goulburn, Bugby,

J. C. Sharp, Esq., Bugby,

Miss Parry, Gosport,

Miss Selina Parry, Do.

]

Lady Stovin, Southampton,

Miss Haynes,

Bev. E. Holland, ....

Bev. T. Walpole, Alverstoke, Gosport,

Mrs. Twining,

The Honorable Miss Ireby, .

J. Tollemache, Esq.,

•>

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

Mrs. Harford, Blaize Castle, Bristol,

Miss Young, Riversdale,

The Lady Henry Cholmondeley,

Colonel Cowell,

Mrs. Cowell,

The Lord Colbourne,

The Lady Colbourne,

Lady Buxton,

Mrs. Fox Chawner,

Mtss Fox Chawner.

Mrs. Nicholson,

Miss Nicholson,

Mrs. Stepney Cowell,

Captain Brock,

The Lady Belhaven, Wishaw,

Miss Fitzgerald, Bath,

Miss Glyn, Culver Lodge, Great Hadham, B

Miss Amelia Glyn,

The Lady Ruthven, .

Miss Macdonald, Ramerscalles,

Lady Amcotts Ingilby, Eipley Castle

Miss Brodie,

Mrs. A. P. Thompson,

Alexander Cowan, Esq.,

The Lady Georgina Bathurst,

The Honorable Mrs. Herbert, Belgrave Squai

The Honorable Mrs. Coventry,

Colonel Philip Dundas,

Mrs. Bruce of Kennet,

Mrs. Speirs, Eldcrslie,

Miss Speirs, Polinont,

Miss Murray,

Mr. Forbes of Callender,

The Lady Charlotte Dundas,

The Lady Abercrombie, Airthrey Castle, St

The Honourable Captain Murray,

Mrs. Horsman,

Mrs. Archer Houbhm,

shop-St

e, London,

ling.

at ford,

No. of Copies.
Large. Small.
(I
II
1

II
0
0
(I
0

(I
1
1

0
0
0
0

0
0

0
0
0
0

0
0
0

II
II
(
II

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

Sir Adam Hay, Bart., ....

No. of Copies.
Large. Small.

0 1

Miss Fergusson, .....

The Honorable Emily Ann Strutt, Witham, Essex, .

•>

Mrs. Marmaduke Wyvill, ....

The Dowager Lady Ibbetson,

Mrs. Vans Agnevv, Barnbarrock, Wigtown, .

Dr. Arbuekle, Do. ....

Mrs. Howard of Craystock, ....

Lady Knatchbnll, .....

The Honorable Mrs. Young, Lincluden, Dumfries,

Mrs. Blair, Portman Square, London,

Mrs. Lambert Blair, Do. Do. .

Mrs. Stewart of Cairnsmuir,

The Honorable Mrs. T. V. Poulet, .

Mrs. Shawe Taylor, ....

Mrs. Vansittart, Bisham Abbey,

Sir William Davy, Bart., Tracy Park, Bath, .

Lady Davy, .....

Admiral Knox, .....

Mrs. Knox, .....

Charles Dixon, Esq., ....

]

Mrs. Dixon, .....

Mrs. Ames, 4, Cavendish Place, Bath,

Mrs. Nevill, .....

George Finch, Esq., Burley-on-the-Hill, Oakham,

The Lady Louisa Finch, ....

The Lady Charlotte Denison,

Lady Malcolm, .....

The Misses Malcolm, .....

;{

William Elphinstonc Malcolm of Burnfoot, Esq.,

Miss Malcolm, .....

Miss Stephana Malcolm, ....

Miss Malcolm, Toddenham, ....

Lady Maxwell Dowager of Calderwood,

Mrs. Dirom, Mount Annan,

Rev. G. Butterworth, Henburv.

William Stirling, Esq., ....

Macdonald Macdonald. Esq..

list of srr.sri;ii;Ki:s.

.Miss Milliken, 37, Charlotte Square, Edinburgh,

Miss Wright, Do.

Mrs. James Hope, Wardie Lodge,

Miss Buller Elpliinstone, Carberry, .

James Little, Esq., Carlsgill, Langholm,

The Countess Granville,

Mrs. Marmaduke Maxwell, Terregles, Dumfries,

Mrs. Stewart Gladstone,

Mrs. Ewart, .

Mrs. Johnstone, Cowhill, Dumfries, .

The Marquess of Thomond, .

Mrs. Maxwell, sen., Georgefield,

George Maxwell, Esq. of Broomholm,

Alexander Stevenson, Esq., Langholm,

The Duchess de Coigivy,

The Honorable Mrs. M'Adam Cathcart,

Lady Stuart of Allan Bank, .

The Lady Sophia De Voeux, .

Miss Walker, ....

A Friend, through Miss Walker,

The Lord Arthur Hervay, Ickworth, Bury St. Edmond,

The Lady Arthur Hervay,

Mrs. Bax, .

Miss Brotherton, .

Bobert Garden, Esq.

Mrs. Turner, ....

Miss Turner, ....

Joseph Clarke, Est)., .

The Lady Georgina Codrington, Dodington, Chippenham,

In memory of ,

The Viscount Dupplin,

The Lady Blanche Dupplin, .

The Duke of Beaufort, Badminton, Gloucester,

The Duchess of Beaufort,

John L. Dampier, Esq.,

Mrs. James Parsons, Drayton-Langport,

Mrs. John Wood, Inmvood Lodge, Dorset, .

The Marquess of Worcester.

No. <>f < '"]'.• •
Large. Small.

(I
0
0

(I
0

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

<Test-End-House

Cadosran Place

The Marchioness of Worcester,

The Earl Howe,

The Countess Howe,

Mrs. Douglas, Rothesay,

The Earl of Kinnoul,

The Countess of Kinnoul,

The Countess of Morton,

The Duchess of Athole,
' Sir George Sartorius, Bart., \\

Lady Sartorius,

Madame de Horta,

The Lady Granville Somerset

Miss Somerset,

The Duke of Argyle,

The Countess of Hopetoun, Camden Hill,

The Lady T. C. Charteris,

The Lord Elcho,

The Lady Caroline Courtcnay

John Wilson, Esq., Bilholm

Mrs. Aytoun, Edinburgh,

Mrs. Maxwell of Carruchan,

John Clark of Spedduck,

J. M'Alpine Leny of Dalswinton,

Sir William Jardine, Bait., Jardine Hall

The Rev. Dr. Dunbar, Applegarth,

The Earl of Roden, Hyde Hall, Sawbridgew

John Gibson Lockhart, Esq., Regent Park,

The Earl of Shelburne,

The Earl of Derby, St. James' Square, Lon

The Countess of Derby,

The Rev. James Hamilton, Beddington, Croy

Mrs. James Hamilton,

Mrs. Spencer Smith,

Miss Smith,

A Friend, through Admiral Hawker,

A Friend, Do.

William Bonar, Esq.,

Mrs. Henry Dundas,

Lond

ilun

Lond

London

orth.

don,

No. of Copies.

Large. SmalL

0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

Richard Trotter, Esq., Morton-Hall,
Mrs. Smytlie, Methven,
Mrs. Everard, Langton-Hall,
Mrs. Campbell,

Mrs. Agar Robartes,

Mr. and Mrs. Pole Carew,

J. F. Buller, Esq. of Morval,

The Dowager Lady Lyttleton,

The Duke of Buccleuch, Dalkeith Palace,

The Duchess of Buccleuch, .

Miss Surrage, York Place, Clifton,

Mrs. Hagart, Bantaskine, Falkirk,

Lady Dalrymple Fergusson,

Lady Macpherson Grant of Ballindalloeh,

Mrs. Murray, Polmaise,

Mrs. Handyside,

Sir Stephen Glynne, Bart., .

William Sloane Stanley, Esq., Paultons Ramsey,

Charles Harland, Esq., Sutton Hall, York, .

John Deverell, Esq., Purbrook Park, Portsmouth,

John M. Quantock, Esq., Norton House, South Pethe

Henry Stafford Thompson, Esq., Tanfield

Mrs. Hunter of Thurston,

Friends, through Mrs. Hunter,

John Forster, Esq., Do.

J. Temple, Esq., Do.

Messrs. Edmonstone and Douglas,

Mrs. Smith, through Misses Brotherton,

J. Bruce Pryce, Esq.,

The Lady Mary Saurin,

The Lady Louisa Fortescue, .

Lady Macdonald,

Lady Kindersley,

The Marchioness of Bath, Longleat, .

The Viscount Jocelyn, Kew Green, Kew

Archibald W. Goldie, Esq., Edinburgh,

The Rev. Dr. Duff, Kenmore,

John Duff, Esq., Birkenhead,

Professor J. B. Blyth, Cork, .

No. of Copies.
Large. Small.
0
0

o
o

0
o
1

0
0
0
0

(t
o

0
0
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
2

II
I)

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

The Duke of Devonshire, Devonshire House, London

The Lady Catherine Cavendish,

Mrs. Power,

Mrs. Winfield,

The Earl of Cardigan,

William Ramsay, Esq.,

The Lady Matilda Maxwell, Pollock, Renfrewshire,

Sir Michael Shaw Stewart, Bart., Belgrave Square, London

The Countess of Pembroke, 1 Grafton Street, London,

The Countess of Dunmore, Dunmore Park

The Rev. John Currie Hutton, Dumfries,

Robert Harkness, Esq., Dumfries,

H. H. the Princess Marie of Baden, Marchioness of Douglas

The Rev. Charles Watson, Langholm,

Langholm Library,

William Carlyle, Esq. M.D., Langholm,

Baron de Tuyll,

Mrs. Thomas Walker,

Mrs. Collins, Clifton Reynes,

Mrs. Collins Wood,

The Duchess of Sutherland, Sutherland House

The Viscountess Blantyre,

The Marchioness of Kildare,

The Marchioness of Stafford,

Mrs. Bridges, Henstridge Vicarage, Dorset,

Mrs. Fennell, Castle Gary, Somerset,

The Rev. Dr. Mitchell,

Richard J. Thompson, Esq., Kirby Hall,

The Misses Thompson, Do.,

Mrs. Lewis, Zeals, Wincanton,

Mrs. Stirling, Linlathen,

Miss Lennox, Lennox Castle,

Miss Cathcart,

The Dowager Lady Grey, through Mrs. Harington,

Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart.,

Mrs. Davies, Dumfries,

Mrs. Howat, Dumfries,

Mrs. Leycester, Toft-Hall, Cheshire

Mrs. Charles Cowan, Valleyfield,

No. of Copies.
Lanre. Small.
0
II
I)
0
0
0
I)
0
0
0
0
0
0

LIST OF SUBSCE1BER8.

.Miss Hamilton,

Mrs. C. Bennett,

-Mrs. Matheson,

Mrs. Halliday,

Mrs. Taylor,

Captain A. C. Robertson, Edinburgh,

Mrs. Carruthers of Dormont,

A. Skirving, Esq. of Croyes,

The Lady Mary Monck,

Mrs. Johnstone, ....

Mrs. Maxwell of Munshes,

Herries, Esq. of Spotts,

Miss Burnet, ....

William Cunningham, Esq., Logan House, Ayrshire,

Miss Young, Rothesay,

Mrs. Robert Taylor,

Two Friends, through Mrs. Gilbert,

Sheriff Trotter, Dumfries,

The Rev. Dr. "Wilson,

Miss Cotton, through Mrs. James Crabb, Southampt

No. of Copies.
Large. Small.

Mrs. C. Davies,
Mrs. Herring,
31 is. James Crabb,
.Mrs. Hutchins,
Mr. Aubrey,
Mrs. Adkins,
Mr. Taylor Dore,

Do.
Do.
Do.

Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.

Messrs. Forbes and Marshall, Do.

Mr. Dowman, Do.

Mr. Cooksey, Do.

Mr. Sharland, Do.

Mrs. F., Do.

Mrs. Dashper, Do.

Mr. Lancaster, Do.

Mr. Caplen, Do.

Messrs. Lury, Do.

A Friend, Do.

Mrs. Allen, Do.

The Rev. Wm. Orger, Do.

Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.

LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.

Mrs. G-. Wheeler, through Mrs. James Crabb, Southampton,
A. B., Do. Do.

No of
Large.
1
l)

Copies
Small.

Mrs. Jeffries, Hollybrook Farm,

J. G. Turnbull, Esq.,

Mrs. Mitford, Hunmanby Hall, through Lady Jardine,
The Rev. A. Crowdy, Northwall, Winchester,

Mrs. Hardy,

Henry Egerton, Esq.,

T. H. Young, Esq., .

F. H. Brooks, Esq.,

J. E. Walters, Esq., . - .

Mrs. Thomas Longman,

Mrs. Tvndale,

0
0
0
0
0

1
1
1

2
2
0
1

Lady Prendergast,

[

A Friend,

Mrs. Blamire, 35, Upper Harley Street,

Miss Ackland, Tenby, South Wales,

Miss Hodgson, Teddington, Middlesex,

Mrs. White, Doncaster,

Mrs. Scobell, Kingwell Hall, Bath, .

Venerable Archdeacon Law, Rectory, Weston-super-Mare, .
Captain Shipton, R.X., Manor House, Windover,

1
1

0
0

Miss Long. Weston-super-Mare,

Miss Oliphant, Do.

Marquise de Sesmaison,

Mrs. Taylor, 1, Percy Street, Liverpool,

Mrs. George Duncan, Do.
Mrs. Robert Macfie, Do.

0
0

J. H. Holbcrton, Esq., Teddington, Middlesex,

Lady De Tabley, Tabley, Cheshire, .

Mr. M Kellar, Rothesay,

Major Douglas, Rothesay,

Miss A. Dent, Hertford Street, May Fair

London, .

0
0

1
1

Miss R. Jardine,

The Baroness North, .

George Fortescue, Esq.,
The Lord Dudley Stuart,

1
1

Mrs. Graham, Edniond Castle,

N. Bridges, Esq.,

siei -a°c^

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