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permitted to see them. Passing on, we came at length to the magnificent church of St. Giovanni, in Laterano. The hill is said to be thus named from the palace of Plautius Lateranus, put to death for conspiring with Seneca against Nero. It stood upon this spot, and the property, being confiscated, came into the possession of the emperors. Constantine built the first Christian church on this bill. It has been burnt and otherwise injured at different times; but the popes have raised the present magnificent edifice upon the same spot, and some parts of the ancient church are still seen there. Near the church is an Egyptian obelisk, a hundred and fifteen feet high, covered with hieroglyphics, and the largest in Rome. It was originally placed in the temple of the Sun, at Thebes, and was brought to Rome by the son of Constantine the Great. Pope Sixtus V. had it placed upon the spot which it now occupies. There seems to be an eternity in these Egyptian monuments ; like the everlasting hills, they defy the hand of time; a double antiquity rests upon them, and yet they seem to have but just issued from the hand of the artist. The three finest, I think, are, the one before the church of St. Peter's, that in the piazza del Popolo, and the one on the Lateran. They are of immense size and in perfect preservation, having nothing of that appearance of age which mark the remains of Roman sculpture.
From this we went to the tomb of the Scipios, on the Appian way, near the Porta Capena. The front is of the Doric style, and in very good preservation. We entered with lights, and plunged into the cavern ; deep, dismal and cold, it seemed indeed as if we were entering the city of the dead. We followed our guide through many a winding gallery and many a silent chamber, pausing every now and then to read the inscriptions engraved upon marble tablets and fastened to the wall; these, however, were only copies, the originals having been removed to the Vatican. At length we arrived at the end of this labyrinth, and joyfully retraced our steps to the cheerful light of day, for the night of ages seemed to dwell in the cavern.
Then following the city wall, we came to the pyramid of Caius Cestius, probably erected in the Augustan age. We did not enter, being told there was nothing to see within. It is somewhat overgrown with wild plants, but is very well preserved; the beauty of the monument, however, is not very remarkable. Adjoining this is the burying-ground of the Protestants, and chiefly filled with English and American monuments. What a combination ! the tombs of a Roman priest, who died two thousand years ago, and an inhabitant of the distant western world, * built side by side, and their ashes reposing peacefully together. This little buryingground was very interesting. There is something peculiarly mournful in contemplating the graves and the monuments of those who have died far away from their home, in a strange land. We are insensibly led to think of the last moments of these unhappy wanderers, perishing in the midst of strangers ; the wild grass which waves over their tombs and conceals their names, is an emblem of the loneliness of their death-bed. It was very touching to me, also, to read the inscriptions in my native tongue, so far from the land where it is spoken. To the inhabitants of this country, they are a dead letter ; they speak to the traveler alone ; they tell him of the strong love of distant friends which has claimed this little spot for its kingdom, and has here raised its simple memorials of respect and affection amidst the ruins of a perished nation, and on the soil where bigotry now reigns; they warn him, too, that, like those who slumber beneath, he may here find the end of his wanderings ; and then his thoughts turn towards home, as to a lost Paradise which his feet are never again to press.
* The last grave prepared in this little cemetery, was for a young American, who died last winter at Rome.
Near this, rises Monte Testaccio, said to be formed entirely of broken earthen-ware that has been cast there. From the summit, we had a fine view of an extensive country, bordered by hills, which the pens of Cicero and of Ovid have rendered classical. Beneath our feet rolled the Tiber, and on the other side rose Mount Aventine and Palatine, and all the ruin-covered soil on which stood ancient Rome. Descending, we arrived at the circular temple of Vesta, which I have already mentioned. Nineteen of the columns are there, one only having been carried away. The whole portion which originally rested upon them is gone, and the temple is now surmounted by an ugly little roof, which accords very ill with the solid materials and elegant workmanship of the ancient parts, and looks like a Chinese hat on the Venus di Medicis. Near this is the temple of Fortuna Virilis, which has been patched up, and forms now part of a church. The columns, of the Ionic order, along the side and front, and the portion of the pediment which formed the front, are undoubtedly ancient. On the other side of the street, is the house of Rienzi — a strange looking and ruinous edifice, loaded with ornaments in stone, which savor of the middle ages ; they are very rich, however, and the house forms an interesting contrast to its classic neighbors.
Continuing our walk, we stopped a moment to look at the remains of the theatre of Marcellus. It now forms the front of a block of houses — about a quadrant of the circle remaining. It was built like the Coliseum : first, a story supported with Tuscan columns and arches between them, then of the Ionic order, and finally I suppose the Corinthian, though none of the columns VOL. IX.
are left. This small portion of the edifice was all we could see, the other part being entirely absorbed in the surrounding houses. It probably never constituted more than a semi-circle ; the stage might have been square, without any pretensions to architecture.
Passing on, we came at last to the Tarpeian rock, or what purports to be such. It is easy to see that the precipice was originally of more than twice its present height, and it would be a very awkward thing to tumble off, as it must be nearly forty feet high now, and I think may have originally been a hundred.
October 14. Visited the palazzo Borghese. The gallery of paintings is the only part exhibited. There are some very superb ones in this collection, among which I noticed the following. First, there were two small pieces by George Vasari: Leda' and Lucretia. They are remarkable for the style, which is quite original, both as to drawing and coloring. The faces are both beautiful, but entirely different; Leda has an innocent, smiling, open face, and might pass for an American or French woman ; but Lucretia has the true Grecian face, with all its majesty ; despair and determination, outraged honor and the fearless contemplation of death are displayed in her magnificent countenance, and you feel that you are in the presence of a superior being. The were two or three paintings by Valatin, (I never heard of him before) which pleased me much. His · Joseph interpreting' is a fine piece ; the young Hebrew is passing fair, and inspiration lights up his features. Then there were some splendid works of Titian, in his own style ; the - Three Graces' and the Sacred and Profane Love." Vandyke was a glorious painter ; his Crucifixion' and his · Entombing of Christ'show genius in every line. I did not think he was so fine a historical painter ; his portraits are the best I have ever seen. There were two or three pieces by Andre del Sarto, on his favorite subject, the Holy Fainily ; and a · Prodigal Son,' by Guercino. There is certainly a similarity in the style of these two artists ; a softness, purity and dignity, withal, which I find only in Raphael. Guercino is my favorite of all, except Raphael and Titian ; the latter excels hiin in power, and there is a heavenliness in the paintings of Raphael which no other man ever attained to. Guido is sometimes more sublime than Andrea del Sarto or Guercino, but he often falls below them; yet the glory of Guercino's
Sybil’ is unsurpassed. I stopped a long time at the portrait of Cæsar Borgia, by Raphael, for, independently of the splendor of the painting, I was interested in studying the countenance of this man. Cæsar Borgia was the devil, I believe, or something near it ; crime was his foster-brother, and the bowl and dagger his playthings. He was an elegant looking fellow, just a hero for the Pelham novels; and his rich doublet, with sleeves of velvet, displays his form to advantage ; the small cap, with its long,
bending feather and costly loop, shades, but does not conceal his comely features ; his lofty brow announces deep thought and sage counsel ; yet there is an air of rakishness in his curly hair, in his deep, dark eyes, and his satirical mouth. At first, it seemed impossible that this should be the countenance of a monster, whose very name inspires horror ; but the longer I contemplated it, the more evident were the traits. Among the most famous of the paintings in this gallery, is one by Domenichino, representing Diana and her nymphs; and the Danae of Coreggio.
October 15. A party of us went out to Tivoli to spend the day. It was here, among the hills, over which the classic Anio pours, that Mæcenas erected his villa ; here he entertained his gifted friend Horace ; here were the haunts of Virgil and Ovid ; and here Augustus retired from the dust and noise of the city. Tivoli is on the spot where stood the ancient city of Tibur, which did not come under the Roman sway till the year 400, A. U.C. It is most romantically situated on a hill, from which the Anio falls into the valley beneath. As we approached the town, nothing indicated the beauties we were to find there. Ascending a long hill, we came into a dirty village, with narrow streets and staring inhabitants, and soon reached our inn, which proved to be better than the outside indicated. A ride of nearly twenty miles, in the sharp morning air, had sharpened the edge of our appetites, and temples, waterfalls and ruins were forgotten, while sundry quantities of beefsteak, eggs, omelets, coffee, bread and butter, &c., were undergoing an animated discussion. At length, this important business finished, we marched off under the command of a half savage cicerone, to see the wonders of Tivoli. Five minutes' walk brought us to the edge of a hill, from which we looked down upon the Anio, which was hastening to its fall. Continuing onward, we passed through a gate, and came to the temple of the Sybil, as they call it. It is an exquisite ruin, circular and surrounded with fluted columns. The position of this beautiful temple shows all the taste and romance (if I may so call it) of classic days. It stands on the edge of a precipice, and the river pours into the gulf beneath. On the opposite side of this deep and dark ravine, the Sabine hills rise suddenly to a greater height than these we stood upon. To have a view of the cascade, however, we descended by a winding path till we reached the lowest point. We here found ourselves in a deep gulph ; on three sides, the perpendicular walls of mountains rose abruptly round us ; on the right hand, a cavern, over-arched with vast rock, and christened
Neptune's Grot,' was the receptacle of an impetuous torrent which came bursting in through a narrow aperture above. On the other side of the gulph was the cascade ; the water fell in an unbroken sheet of silvery foam, and the rising spray, wafted in billows down the ravine, displayed for a moment its rainbow hues in the sanlight and vanished in the air. Far above us, on its bold, jutting rock, stood the classic temple I have mentioned, and seemed to preside over the scene as the genius of the place. At a distance, on the opposite side, were extensive ruins, which might have once formed part of some Roman villa. We lingered an hour on this delicious spot, and then ascended to the town, which traversing, we came to the remains of the villa of Mæcenas, on the other side. The situation is very beautiful. An amphitheatre of bills stretches round behind, and in front is the vast Campagna di Roma, with a view of the distant city. Of the villa, (if such it was) a number of long, arched galleries remain, through which a stream rushes and carries several mills, which have been constructed here ; they stand on the edge of the hills, and the little brooks, escaping from the sides, fall into the valley.
Near the city of Tibur, but on the other side, are the remains of the villa of Adrian, one of the most superb retreats which the magnificence of any monarch has formed. Some of the finest ancient statues — the Venus di Medicis, for instance — were found among the ruins. At present, they have but little interest, except as indicating the site and extent of the palace and its appurtenances, and perhaps assisting the antiquarian in his investigations. They are too much decayed and crumbled for imagination ever to build its fabrics upon them, and the beauty of a ruin is hardly discoverable in them. Like almost all Roman remains, they astonish by their vastness. There is something in the appearance of an arch, especially among ruins, which conveys the idea of grandeur ; and the vast span of some of those in this villa, as well as in other ruins I have seen here, seems to make them the very emblems of sublimity. Having passed the day on these hallowed spots, we returned to Rome.
Near Tivoli, on the road to Rome, is a circular tomb of the Plautian family. It is much in the style of the mausoleum of Adrian. We were not permitted to enter. Not far from this is a stream, which might pass for the Styx or Cocytus, or a branch at least. The waters run white with the sulphur, and such a stench issues from the rushing torrent, that we were glad to let curiosity rest, and hurry by. In general, the country between Rome and Tivoli is a desert ; and the ruined towers and castles, scattered over the wide plain, are the only mark that man has dwelt there.
October 20. We visited the capitol, — ascending the long stairway, passing between the statues of Castor and Pollux, till we reached the suinmit. Here we stopped to look at an equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, in bronze, made I know not when, but antique. It is very beautiful, particularly the horse. The emperor appears in the act of addressing the people or receiving