NO. XXI.—ROME. (continued 2)

“At the end of the Velabrum,” says Dupaty, “I found myself on the Appian way, and walked along it for some time. I there found the tomb of Cecilia Metella, the daughter of that Crassus whose wealth was a counterpoise to the name of Pompey and the fortune of Cæsar. I entered the tomb, and set myself down on the grass. The flowers which displayed their brilliant colours in the corner of the tomb, and as I may say amid the shades of death; the noise of a swarm of bees who were depositing their honey between two rows of bricks, while the surrounding silence rendered their pleasing humming more audible; the azure of the sky forming over my head a magnificent dome, decorated alternately by flying clouds of silver and of purple; the name Cecilia Metella, who perhaps was beautiful, and possessed of the tenderest sensibility, and who most certainly was unfortunate; the memory of Crassus; the image of a distracted father who strives by piling up stones to immortalize his sorrow; the soldiers, whom my imagination still behold combating from the height of this tower;—all these and a thousand other impressions gradually plunged my soul into a delicious reverie, and it was with difficulty I could leave the place.”

The portico of Octavia stood upon the Flaminian Circus and the theatre of Marcellus; it was erected by Augustus, in honour of his sister Octavia. This portico formed a parallelogram, composed of a double row of two hundred and seventy Corinthian columns of white marble, adorned with statues, enclosing a court, in which were two temples, dedicated to Jupiter and Juno, a library, and a large hall for the exhibition of paintings. A small portion of the portico, being one of the entrances, is all that now remains. Many of the pillars are, however, supposed to be built up in the neighbouring houses.

The general use, porticoes were put to, was the pleasure of walking or riding in them; in the shade in summer, and in winter in the day; like the present piazzas in Italy. Velleius Paterculus, when he deplores the extreme corruption of manners that had crept into Rome upon the conclusion of the Carthaginian war, mentions particularly the vanity of the noblemen, in endeavouring to outshine one another in the magnificence of their porticoes, as a great instance of their extraordinary luxury. Juvenal thus alludes to them:—

The Naumachiæ, or places for the shows of sea engagements160, are nowhere particularly described; but we may suppose them to be very little different from the circus or amphitheatres; since those sort of shows, for which they were designed, were often exhibited. The Naumachiæ owed their original to the time of the first Punic war, when the Romans first initiated their men in the knowledge of sea-affairs. After the improvement of many years, they were designed as well for gratifying the sight, as for increasing their naval experience and discipline; and therefore composed one of the solemn shows by which the magistrates or emperors, or any affecters of popularity, so often made their court to the people.

The usual accounts we have of these exercises seem to represent them as nothing else but the image of a naval fight. But it is probable that sometimes they did not engage in any hostile manner, but only rowed fairly for the victory. This conjecture may be confirmed by the authority of Virgil, who is acknowledged by all the critics, in his descriptions of the games and exercises to have had an eye always to his own country, and to have drawn them after the manner of the Roman sports. Now the sea contention, which he presents us with, is barely a trial of swiftness in the vessels, and of skill in managing the oars, as is most admirably delivered in his fifth book161.

Warm baths were first introduced into Rome by Mæcenas. There cannot be a greater instance of the magnificence of the Romans than their bagnios. Ammianus Marcellinus observes, that they were built “in modum provinciarum,” as large as provinces; but the great Valesius judges the word provinciarum to be a corruption of piscinarum. And though this emendation does in some measure extenuate one part of the vanity which has been so often alleged against them, from the authority of that passage of the historian, yet the prodigious accounts we have of their ornaments and furniture, will bring them, perhaps, under a censure no more favourable than the former. Seneca, speaking of the luxury of his countrymen in this respect, complains that they were arrived to such a pitch of niceness and delicacy, as to scorn to set their feet on any thing but precious stones. And Pliny wishes good old Fabricius were but alive to see the degeneracy of his posterity, when the very women must have their seats in the baths of solid silver. Of the luxury and magnificence of the Roman bath, we have an interesting account in Seneca; we borrow the old translation, it being somewhat of a curiosity:—

“Of the countrie-house of Africanus, and bath:

“Lying in the verie towne (villa) of Scipio Africanus, I write these things unto thee, having adored the spirit of him and the altar, which I suppose to be the sepulcher of so great a man. * * I saw that towne builded of four-square stone, a wall compassing about a wood, towers also set under both sides of the towne for a defence. A cisterne laid under the buildings, and green places, which was able to serve even an armie of men. A little narrow bathe, somewhat darke, as the olde fashion was. None seemed warme for our ancestors except it were obscure. Great pleasure entered into me, beholding the manners of Scipio and of us. In this corner that horrour of Carthage, to whom Rome is in debt that it was taken but once, washed his bodie, wearied with the labours of the countrie: for he exercised himselfe in worke, and he himself tilled the earth, as the fashion of the ancients was. He stood upon this so base a roofe,—this so mean a floore sustained him. But now who is he that can sustaine to be bathed thus? Poore and base seemeth he to himself, except the walls have shined with great and precious rounds, except Alexandrian marbles be distinguished with Numidian roofe-caste, except the chamber be covered over with glasse, except stone of the Ile Thassus, once a rare gazing-stocke in some church (temple), have compassed about our ponds into which we let down our bodies exhausted by much labour; except silver cocks have poured out water unto us. And as yet I speake of the conduits of the common sort; what when I shall come to the bathes of freedmen? What profusion of statues is there; what profusion of columns holding nothing up, but placed for ornament, merely on account of the expense? What quantity of waters sliding downe upon staires with a great noise? To that delicacie are we come, that men will not tread but upon precious stones. In this bathe of Scipio, there be verie small chinckes, rather than windowes, cut out in the stone wall, that without hurt of the fense they should let the light in. But now they are called the bathes of moths, if any be not framed so as to receive, with most large windows, the sunne all the day long, except they be bathed and coloured (sunburnt) at the same time, except from the bathing vessel they look upon both land and sea. But in old time there were few bathes, neither were they adorned with any trimming up. For why should a thing of a farthing worth be adorned, and which is invented for use, and not for delight? Water was not poured in, neither did it alwaies, as from a warm fountain, runne fresh. But, O the good gods! how delightful it was to enter into those bathes, somewhat darke and covered with plaster of the common sort, which thou diddest know that Cato, the overseer of the buildings (ædile), or Fabius Maximus, or some one of the Cornelii, had tempered for you with his own hand! For the most noble ædiles performed this duty also of going into those places which received the people, and of exacting cleanliness, and an useful and healthie temperature; not this which is lately found out, like unto a setting on fire, so that it is meet indeed to be washed alive, as a slave convicted of some crime. It seemeth to me now to be of no difference, whether the bathe be scalding hot or be but warme. Of how great rusticity do some now condemn Scipio, because into his warm bathe he did not with large windowes (of transparent stone) let in the light? O miserable man! He knew not how to live; he was not washed in strained water, but oftentimes in turbid, and, when more vehemently it did rain, in almost muddy water.”

The more extensive and best-preserved baths now remaining in Rome are those of Titus, Antoninus, Caracalla, and Dioclesian. In the time of Ammianus Marcellinus there were sixteen public baths. These were surrounded by extensive gardens; and the main buildings were used, some for bathing and swimming; some for athletic exercises; and others for lectures, recitation, and conversation. They were splendidly fitted up, and furnished with considerable libraries.

The ruins of what are called the baths of Titus extend to a great area. The site is, to a considerable extent, occupied by gardens; in various parts of which are to be seen fragments, all once belonging to the same edifice. This building seems to have consisted of two stories. Of the upper one little remains; but of the lower there are more than thirty rooms accessible.

“We passed,” says the author of ‘Rome in the Nineteenth Century,’ describing a visit to the baths, “the mouths of nine long corridors, converging together like the radii of the segment of a circle, divided from each other by dead walls, covered at the top, and closed at the end. They must always have been dark. Having passed these corridors, we entered the portal of what is called the house of Mæcenas. It is known that the house and gardens of Mæcenas stood in this part of the Esquiline-hill, which, before it was given him by Augustus, was the charnel-ground of the common people. The conflagration in Nero’s reign did not reach to them; and it is believed, that a part of them was taken by Nero into his buildings, and by Titus into his baths. Antiquaries think they can trace a difference in the brick-work and style of building, between what they consider as the erection of Augustus’s and that of Titus’s age: and on these grounds, the parts they point out as vestiges of the house of Mæcenas, are the entrance, which leads into a range of square and roofless chambers (called, on supposition, the public baths), and the wall on the right in passing through them, which is partially formed of reticulated building in patches. From these real or imaginary classic remains, we entered a damp and dark corridor, the ceiling of which is still adorned with some of the most beautiful specimens, that now remain, of the paintings of antiquity. Their colouring is fast fading away, and their very outline, I should fear, must be obliterated at no very distant period; so extreme is the humidity of the place, and so incessantly does the water-drop fall. By the light of a few trembling tapers elevated on the top of a long bending cane, we saw, at least twenty feet above our heads, paintings in arabesque, executed with a grace, a freedom, a correctness of design, and a masterly command of pencil, that awakened our highest admiration, in spite of all the disadvantages under which they were viewed. * * * Leaving the painted corridor, which is adorned with these beautiful specimens of ancient art, we entered halls, which, like it, must always have been dark, but are still magnificent. The bright colouring of the crimson stucco, the alcove still adorned with gilding, and the ceilings beautifully painted with fantastic designs, still remain in many parts of them; but how chill, how damp, how desolate are now these gloomy halls of imperial luxury! No sound is to be heard through them, but that of the slow water-drop. In one of these splendid dungeons, we saw the remains of a bath, supposed to have been for the private use of the emperor. In another we were shown the crimson-painted alcove, where the Laocöon was found in the reign of Leo the Tenth. The French, who cleared out a great many of these chambers, found nothing but the Pluto and Cerberus, now in the Capitol, a work of very indifferent sculpture.”

Another critic (Knight) has estimated these paintings rather differently. “The paintings on the walls,” says he, “consist chiefly of what we now call arabesques; the figures are all very small, and arranged in patterns and borders. They consist of birds and beasts; among which some green parrots may be seen very distinctly; the ground is generally a rich dark red. At the end of one of these rooms is a large painting of some building, in which the perspective is said to be correctly given. This seems to disprove the charge which has been brought against the ancient painters, of not understanding the rules of perspective; none of these paintings can, however, be justly regarded as specimens of ancient art; they were intended solely as decorations to the apartments, and were doubtless the work of ordinary house-painters. To judge of the proficiency of the ancient painters from such remains as these would be as unfair, to use Dr. Burton’s remark, as to estimate the state of the arts in England from the sign-posts. Where the walls of the rooms are bare, the brick-work has a most singular appearance of freshness; the stucco also is very perfect in many parts; but the marble, of which there are evident traces on the walls of the floors, is gone.”

The ruins of the baths of Caracalla are so extensive, that they occupy a surface equal to one-sixteenth of a square mile. Next to the Coliseum, they present the greatest mass of ancient building in Rome. “At each end,” says Mr. Eustace, “were two temples; one dedicated to Apollo, and the other to Æsculapius, as the tutelary deities of the place, sacred to the improvement of the mind, and the care of the body: the two other temples were dedicated to the two protecting divinities of the Antonine family; Hercules and Bacchus. In the principal building were, in the first place, a grand circular vestibule, with four baths on each side, for cold, tepid, warm, and sea baths; in the centre was an immense square for exercise, when the weather was unfavourable for it in the open air: beyond it is a marble hall, where sixteen hundred marble seats were placed for the convenience of the bathers; at each end of this hall were libraries. This building terminated on both sides with a court, surrounded with porticoes, with an odeum for music, and in the middle a spacious basin for swimming. Round this edifice were walks shaded by rows of trees, particularly the plane; and in its front extended a gymnasium, for running, wrestling, &c., in fine weather. The whole was surrounded by a vast portico, opening into spacious halls, where the poets declaimed, and philosophers gave lectures to their auditors.”

The following account is from the author of Rome in the Nineteenth Century. “We passed through a long succession of immense halls, open to the sky, whose pavements of costly marbles, and rich mosaics, long since torn away, have been supplied by the soft green turf, that forms a carpet more in unison with their deserted state. The wind sighing through the branches of the aged trees, that have taken root in them, without rivalling their loftiness, was the only sound we heard; and the bird of prey, which burst through the thick ivy of the broken wall far above us, was the only living object we beheld. These immense halls formed part of the internal division of the Thermæ, which was entirely devoted to purposes of amusement. The first of the halls, or walled enclosures, that you enter, and several of the others, have been open in the centre. These were surrounded by covered porticos, supported by immense columns of granite, which have long since been carried away; chiefly by the popes, and princes of the Farnese family. In consequence of their loss the roofs fell with a concussion so tremendous, that it is said to have been felt even in Rome, like the distant shock of an earthquake. Fragments of this vaulted roof are still lying at the corners of the porticoes. The open part, in the centre, was probably designed for athletic sports. Many have been the doubts and disputes among the antiquaries, which of these halls have the best claims to be considered as the once wonderful Cella Solearis. All are roofless now; but the most eastern of them, that which is farthest to the left on entering, and which evidently had windows, seems generally to enjoy the reputation. Besides these enormous halls, there are, on the western side of these ruins, the remains of a large circular building, and a great number of small divisions, of all sizes and forms, in their purpose wholly incomprehensible; except that they belonged to that part of the Thermæ destined for purposes of amusement. Nothing can now be known; and though the immense extent of the baths may be traced, far from hence, by the wide-spreading ruins, it is equally difficult and unprofitable to explore them any further.”

In these baths were discovered (A. D. 1540), the celebrated Farnese Hercules; also the famous Flora (1540); and the Farnese Bull, in 1544. In those of Titus, the Belvidere Meleager; and the wonderful group, entitled the Laocöon; and not far from them the exquisite figure of Antinous.

Columns, or pillars,162 were none of the meanest beauties of the city. They were at least converted to the same design as the arches; for the honourable memorial of some noble victory or exploit; after they had been a long time in use for the chief ornament of the sepulchres of great men.

There are three columns more celebrated than the rest. These are, the pillars of Trajan, of Antoninus, and of Phocas. The first of these was set up in the middle of Trajan’s Forum; being composed of twenty-four great stones of marble;163 but so curiously cemented, as to seem one entire natural stone. The height was one hundred and forty-four feet, according to Eutropius; though Marlian seems to make them but one hundred and twenty-eight: yet they are easily reconciled, if we suppose one of them to have begun the measure from the pillar itself, and the other from the basis. It is ascertained on the inside by one hundred and eighty-five winding stairs, and has forty little windows for the admission of light. The noblest ornament of this pillar was the statue of Trajan at the top, of a gigantic height; being no less than twenty-five feet high. He was represented in a coat of armour, proper to the general, holding in his left hand a sceptre; in his right a hollow globe of gold, in which his ashes were deposited after his death.

The subjects of the bas-reliefs, as we have already stated, are the victories of Trajan, in his Dacian campaign164. The whole number of figures sculptured is about 2,500; and the figure of Trajan himself is repeated more than fifty times. At the lower part of the column, the human figures are about two feet high; as they ascend, and thus become further removed from the eye, their size is increased, till, at the top of the column, they have nearly double the height that they have below. These bas-reliefs are executed with great delicacy and spirit; but they possess a higher value of a different kind. “The Roman dress and manners,” says Dr. Burton, “may receive a considerable light from them. We find the soldiers constantly carrying their swords on the right side. On a march they are generally bare-headed; some have no helmets at all; others wear them suspended to their right shoulder; each of them carries a stick over the left shoulder, which seems to have been for the purpose of carrying their provisions. We may observe also a wallet, a vessel for wine, and a machine for dressing meat.”

Their shields165 were oblong, with different devices upon them; their standards of various kinds; pictures also were used; which were portraits of gods, or heroes. The soldiers wear upon their legs a kind of light pantaloons, reaching a little below the knee, and not buttoned. The Dacians have loose pantaloons, reaching to the ankle, and shoes; they also carry curved swords. The Sarmatian cavalry, allies of Decabalus (the Dacian king) wear plated armour, covering the men and horses. Their armour was a covering of thin circular plates, which were adapted to the movements of the body, and drawn over all their limbs; so that in whatever direction they wished to move, their clothing allowed them free play, by the close fitting of its joints. Some Roman soldiers have also plate-armour; but they are archers. The horses have saddles, or rather cloths, which are fastened by cords round the breast, and under the tail. The Dacian horses are without this covering; and the Germans, or some other allies, have neither saddles nor bridles to their horses. We might observe several other particulars, such as a bridge of boats over a river, and that the boats everywhere are without a rudder, but are guided by an oar, fastened with a thong on one side of the stern. The wall of the camp has battlements, and the heads of the Dacians are stuck to it. The Dacian women are represented burning the Roman prisoners. We may also see the testudo, formed by soldiers putting their shields together in a compact mass over their backs. Victory is represented as writing with a pen on a shield166.

The column of Antoninus was raised in imitation of this, which it exceeded in one respect; that it was one hundred and seventy-six feet high. The work was much inferior to that of Trajan’s, as being undertaken in the declining age of the empire. The ascent on the inside was by one hundred and six stairs, and the windows in the sides fifty-six. The sculpture and the other monuments were of the same nature as those of the first; and on the top stood a colossus of the emperor, naked, as appears from some of his coins. Both these columns are still standing; the former most entire. But Pope Sixtus V., instead of the statues of the emperors, set up St. Peter’s, on the column of Trajan, and St. Paul’s, on that of Antoninus.

The historical columns167 are true to no order of architecture. Trajan’s has a Tuscan base and capital, and a pedestal with Corinthian mouldings. That of M. Aurelius repeats the same mixture; but its pedestal is restored: and though higher, both in proportion and in place, than Trajan’s, does not associate so well with its shaft. These are the only regular pedestals that are observed in Roman antiquity.

Next to these may be classed the column of Phocas168. So recently as twenty-four years ago, the whole of its base, and part of the shaft, were buried in the soil; and up to that time, the ingenuity of the learned was severely tried, in the attempt to find for it a name. One thought it a fragment of the Græcostasis; another adjudged it to a temple of Jupiter Custos; and a third urged the claim of Caligula’s bridge. At length, it was thought that, possibly, the column might originally have been isolated, and thus in itself a complete monument; that, consequently, if the earth at its foot were removed, a pedestal might be uncovered with some inscriptions thereon. The Duchess of Devonshire had recourse to this simple expedient, in the year 1813; the base of the column was laid open, and upon it an inscription was found, recording the fact, that a gilt statue was placed on the top of it in the year 608, in honour of the emperor Phocas, by Smaragdus, exarch of Italy.

The material of the column is Greek marble, the capital is Corinthian, and the shaft is fluted. The height is forty-six feet, but as it stands upon a pyramid of eleven steps, its elevation is increased about eleven feet.

The seventh Basilica stands about two miles from the walls; the church itself is a fine building, restored in 1611; but the portico, of antique marble columns, is of the time of Constantine. Under the church are the openings to very extensive catacombs, originally formed no doubt by the ancient Romans, to procure pozzolana for their buildings; and enlarged by the early Christians, who used them as places of refuge during their persecutions, and as cemeteries, one hundred and seventy thousand of them having, it is said, been interred there. The passages are from two to three feet in width, and extend several miles in different directions.

A hall of immense size169 was discovered about the beginning of the last century, concealed under the ruins of its own massive roof. The pillars of verde antico that supported its vaults, the statues that ornamented its niches, and the rich marbles that formed its pavements, were found buried in rubbish, and were immediately carried away by the Farnesian family, the proprietors of the soil, to adorn their palaces and furnish their galleries. This hall is now cleared of its encumbrances, and presents to the eye a vast length of naked wall, and an area covered with weeds. “As we stood contemplating its extent and proportion,” continues Mr. Eustace, “a fox started from an aperture, once a window, at one end, and crossing the open space, scrambled up the ruins at the other, and disappeared in the rubbish. This scene of desolation reminded me of Ossian’s beautiful description:—‘The thistle shook there its lonely head; the moss whistled to the gale; the fox looked out from the windows; the rank grass waved round his head.’”

There are twelve obelisks at Rome still standing erect, the oldest of which is that brought by Augustus, which is eighty feet in height, decorating the fine square called Piazza del Popolo.

Roman conquerors had successively enriched the capital of the world with the monuments of subdued nations, and with the spirit of art from Sicily, Greece, and Egypt. Among these, the emperor Augustus ordered two Egyptian obelisks to be carried to Rome. To this end, an immense vessel of a peculiar structure was built, and when, after a tedious and difficult voyage, it reached the Tiber with its freight, one of the columns was placed in the Grand Circus, and the other in the Campus Martius. Caligula adorned Rome with a third Egyptian obelisk, obtained in the like manner.

A fourth was added afterwards. The emperor Constantine, equally ambitious of these costly foreign ornaments, resolved to decorate his newly-founded capital of Constantinople with the largest of all the obelisks that stood on the ruins of Thebes. He succeeded in having it conveyed as far as Alexandria, but, dying at the time, its destination was changed, and an enormous raft, managed by three hundred rowers, transported the granite obelisk from Alexandria to Rome.

The Circi were places set apart for the celebration of several sorts of games. They were generally oblong, or almost in the shape of a bow, having a wall quite round, with ranges of seats for the convenience of the spectators. At the entrance of the circus stood the Carceres, or lists, whence they started, and just by them one of the Metæ, or marks, the other standing at the further end to conclude the race. “There were several of these Circi at Rome, as those of Flaminius, Nero, Caracalla, and Severus; but the most remarkable, as the very name imports, was Circus Maximus, first built by Tarquinius Priscus. The length of it was four furlongs, the breadth the like number of acres, with a trench of ten feet deep, and as many broad, to receive the water; and seats enough for one hundred and fifty thousand men. It was beautified and adorned by succeeding princes, particularly by Julius Cæsar, Augustus, Caligula, Domitian, Trajan, and Heliogabalus; and enlarged to such a prodigious extent as to be able to contain, in their proper seats, two hundred and sixty thousand spectators. In the time of Constantine it would hold three hundred and eighty-five thousand persons to view the combats, chariot races, &c.170” The Circus Maximus stands on the spot where the games were celebrated when the Romans seized the Sabine women; and it was here also that the interesting scene took place between Androcles and the lion.

The number of beasts exhibited in the circus is wonderful; and were it not well attested, would be incredible. In the days of imperial splendour, nearly every rare animal that Western Asia or Northern Africa could produce, was commonly exhibited to the Roman people. In the year 252 B. C. one hundred and forty-two elephants, brought from Sicily, were exhibited in the circus. Cæsar, in his third dictatorship, showed a vast number of wild beasts, among which were four hundred lions, and a camelopard. The emperor Gordian devised a novel kind of spectacle; he converted the Circus into a temporary kind of wood, and turned into it two hundred stags, thirty wild horses, one hundred wild sheep, ten elks, one hundred Cyprian bulls, three hundred ostriches, thirty wild asses, one hundred and fifty wild boars, two hundred ibices, and two hundred deer. He then allowed the people to enter the wood, and to take what they pleased. Forty years afterwards the emperor Probus171 imitated his example. “Large trees were pulled up by the roots,” says an ancient writer, “and fastened to beams, which were laid down crossing each other. Soil was then thrown upon them, and the whole Circus planted like a wood. One thousand ostriches, one thousand stags, one thousand ibices, wild sheep, and other grazing animals, as many as could be fed or found, were turned in, and the people admitted as before.”

Of the trouble which was taken in the republican times to procure rare animals for exhibition in Rome, we have a curious illustration in the letters of Cicero. The orator went out in the year 52 B. C., as governor of a province of Asia Minor; and while there, he was thus addressed by his friend Cœlius:—“I have spoken to you, in almost all my letters, about the panthers. It will be disgraceful to you, that Patiscus has sent ten panthers to Curio, while you have scarcely sent a greater number to me. Curio has made me a present of these, and ten others from Africa. If you will only keep it in mind, and employ the people of Cybira, and also send letters into Pamphylia (for I understand that the greatest number are taken there), you will gain your object.” To this the proconsul replies:—“I have given particular orders about the panthers to those who are in the habit of hunting them; but they are surprisingly scarce; and it is said, that those which are there, make a great complaint that there are no snares laid against any one in my province but themselves. It is accordingly supposed, that they are determined to quit my province. I go into Caria. However, I shall use all diligence.”

The avidity172 with which the amusements of the Circus were sought, increased with the decline of the empire and the corruption of morals. Ammianus Marcellinus, who wrote in the fourth century of the Christian era, gives us the following description:—“The people spend all their evenings in drinking and gaming, in spectacles, amusements, and shows. The Circus Maximus is their temple, their dwelling-house, their public meeting, and all their hopes. In the Forum, the streets, and squares, multitudes assemble together, and dispute, some defending one thing, and some another. The oldest take the privilege of age, and cry out in the temples and Forum, that the republic must fall, if in the approaching games the person whom they support does not win the prize and first pass the goal. When the wished-for day of the equestrian games arrives, before sunrise all run headlong to the spot, passing in swiftness the chariots that are to run; upon the success of which their wishes are so divided, that many pass the night without sleep.” Lactantius confirms this account, and says that the people, from their great eagerness, often quarrelled and fought.

Fortunately there still exists, about two miles from the walls of Rome, an ancient circus in a high state of preservation; and from this we are enabled to acquire a very good notion of the form and arrangement of such structures. The chief entrance was an opening at the straight end; and on each side of it were six carceres, or starting-places. At the rounded end, or that opposite to the carceres, was the Porta Triumphalis, or Triumphal Gate, by which the victor left the circus; the rest of the enclosed space were the seats for the spectators, raised in rows one above the other. Down the middle of the area, or more properly speaking, rather nearer to one side than the other, ran a raised division,—a sort of thick dwarf wall, called the Spina; equal in length to about two-thirds of the area itself. At each end of this spina was a small meta, or goal, formed of three cones. The meta which approached the triumphal gate was much nearer to it than the other meta was to the carceres. The course which the chariots ran was by the side of the spina, and round the metæ. All these different parts of the circus were variously ornamented; the spina especially was highly decorated, having sometimes in the middle one of those lofty Egyptian obelisks, of which there are more to be seen at this day in Rome, than are assembled anywhere else173.

Besides the Mamertine prisons and the Cloaca Maxima, there are other antiquities at Rome which belong to the early period. Among these are the foundations and great fragments of the ancient buildings of the Capitol. The Capitol-hill is said to form a link between the ancient city and the modern one.—“From an elevated station, about two hundred and fifty feet above the Forum,” says Simond, “the voice of Cicero might have been heard, revealing to the people, assembled before the Temple of Concord, (to which the ruins nearest to us probably belonged,) Catiline’s conspiracy. He might even have been heard in the Tribune of Harangues, situated on the other side of the Forum, and next to the Temple of Jupiter Stator,—of which there are three columns still standing,—taking the oath that he had saved his country, and all the people taking the same oath after him. But the gory head and hand of this saviour of his country might have been seen from our station soon after, nailed to the side of this same tribune, and the same people tamely looking on! Instead of the contending crowds of patriots, conspirators, orators, heroes, and fools, each acting his part, we now saw only a few cows quietly picking up blades of grass among the ruins; beggars, and monks, and asses loaded with bags of puzzolana, and a gang of galley-slaves lazily digging away for antiquities, under the lash of their taskmasters.”

The hill of the Capitol derived its name from the head of Tolus174, and the prediction of universal empire to those who held it. It was famous for a temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, which was the effect of a vow made by Tarquinius Priscus in the Sabine war. But he had scarcely laid the foundations before his death. His nephew, Tarquinius the Proud, finished it with the spoils taken from the neighbouring nations. But upon the expulsion of the kings, the consecration was performed by Horatius the consul. The structure stood on a high ridge, taking in four acres of ground. The front was adorned with three rows of pillars, the other side with two. Its ascent from the ground was by one hundred steps. The prodigious gifts and ornaments, with which it was several times endowed, almost exceed belief. Suetonius tells us that Augustus gave at one time two thousand pounds weight of gold; and a precious stone to the value of five hundred sestertia. Livy and Pliny surprise us with accounts of the brazen thresholds, the noble pillars, that Sylla removed hither from Athens out of the temple of Jupiter Olympius; the gilded roof, the gilded shields, and those of solid silver; the huge vessels of silver, holding three measures; the golden chariot, &c. This temple was first consumed by fire in the Marian war, and then rebuilt by Sylla, who, dying before the dedication, left that honour to Quintus Catulus. This too was demolished in the Vitellian sedition. Vespasian undertook a third, which was burnt down about the time of his death. Domitian raised the last and most glorious of all; in which the very gilding amounted to twelve thousand talents (£2,250,000). He adorned it with some columns of Pentelic marble brought from Athens. Indeed, his extravagance in this and other public works led to that exceeding severity which accompanied the exaction of the capitation tax from the Jewish people. It was the opinion of contemporaries of the emperor, that if he were to reclaim from the gods the sums which he now expended upon them, even Jupiter himself, though he were to hold a general auction in Olympus, would be unable to pay a twelfth of his debts, or, as we should say, one shilling and eightpence in the pound.

Of all the ancient glory of the Capitol,175 nothing now remains but the solid foundation and vast substructions raised on the rock. Not only is the Capitol fallen, but its very name, expressive of dominion, and once fondly considered as an omen of empire, is now almost lost in the semi-barbarous appellation of Campi-doglio. “This place,” says a celebrated French traveller, “which gave law to the universe, where Jupiter had his temple and Rome her senate; from whence of old the Roman eagles were continually flying into every quarter of the globe, and from every quarter of the globe continually winging their way back with victories; whence a single word from the mouth of Scipio, of Pompey, or of Cæsar, quickly reached the most distant nations, menacing their liberty, and deciding on the fate of kings; where the greatest men of the republic, in short, still continued to live after their death in statues, and still to govern the world with the authority of Romans: this place so renowned has lost its statues, its senate, its citadel, its temples; it has retained nothing but its name, so cemented by the blood and tears of nations, that time has not yet been able to disjoin the immortal syllables of which it is composed. It is still called the Capitol. At the Capitol we perceive, in the strongest light, the insignificance of all human things, and the power of fortune.”

The Pantheon is the most perfect of all the remains of ancient Rome, and the only one of the Pagan temples that retains any thing of its original appearance. It was dedicated176 either to Jupiter Ultor, or to Mars and Venus, or, more probably, to all the gods in general. The structure, according to Fabricius, is one hundred and forty feet high, and about the same in breadth; but a later author has increased the number to one hundred and fifty-eight. The roof is curiously vaulted, void places being left here and there for the greater strength.

The statues of all the gods were in this temple; and these, according to their degrees, were of gold, silver, bronze, or marble. The portico is one hundred and ten feet long177, by forty-four in depth, and is supported by sixteen columns of the Corinthian order. Each of the shafts of these columns is of one piece of oriental granite, and forty-two feet in height; the bases and capitals are of white marble. The whole height of the columns is forty-six feet five inches; the diameter, just above the base, is four feet ten inches; and, just beneath the capital, four feet three inches. The interior of the rotunda has a diameter of nearly one hundred and fifty feet.

This building has been generally attributed wholly to Agrippa; but from careful research, Desgodetz asserts that the body of the edifice is of much earlier origin; and that Agrippa only newly modelled and embellished the inside, and added the magnificent portico. The building is circular, with a noble dome, and a fine portico of sixteen pillars of oriental granite. There are no windows, the light being admitted by a circular aperture in the dome. The fine marble with which the walls were encrusted, and the brass which covered the roof, have long since disappeared; the bare bricks alone are left.

As St. Peter’s affords the best sample of modern art in Rome178, so does the Pantheon exhibit the most satisfactory and best-preserved specimen of ancient art; for, notwithstanding the injuries it has sustained by the hands of barbarians of all ages, no signs of natural decay are yet visible; and with this magnificent model before their eyes, it appears strange, that the architects of St. Peter’s should not have accomplished their task more worthily. The Pantheon seems to be the hemispherical summit of a modern temple, taken off and placed on the ground; so it appears to us, at least, accustomed to see cupolas in the former situation only.

“It is built in the dirtiest part of modern Rome,” says the author of Rome in the Nineteenth Century; “and the unfortunate spectator, who comes with a mind filled with enthusiasm, to gaze upon this monument of the taste and magnificence of antiquity, finds himself surrounded by all that is most revolting to the senses, distracted by incessant uproar, pestered by the crowd of clamorous beggars, and stuck fast in the congregated filth of every description that covers the slippery pavement; so that the time he forces himself to spend in admiring its noble portico, generally proves a penance from which he is glad to be liberated, instead of an enjoyment he wishes to protract. We escaped none of these nuisances, except the mud, by sitting in an open carriage to survey it. The smells of the beggars were equally annoying. You may perhaps form some idea of the situation of the Pantheon at Rome, by imagining what Westminster Abbey would be in Covent Garden Market.”

This does not appear, however, to have damped the enthusiasm of Dupaty:—“I first directed my steps,” says he, “towards the Pantheon, dedicated by Agrippa to all the gods, and since, I know not by what pope, to all the saints179. This consecration has preserved the Pantheon from the general pillage and destruction which the other temples have undergone. It has been despoiled of every thing that made it rich; but they have left all that made it great. It has lost its marbles, its porphyry, its alabaster, but it has preserved its dome, its peristyle, and its columns. How magnificent is this peristyle! The eyes are just attracted by eight Corinthian columns, on which rests the pediment of this immortal monument. These columns are beautiful from the harmony of the most perfect workmanship, and the lapse of twenty centuries, which adds to their grandeur, and the awe they inspire. The eye can never tire with mounting with them in the air, and following their descent. They present I know not what appearance of animated life, that creates a pleasing illusion, an elegant shape, a noble stature, and a majestic head, round which the acanthus, with leaves at once so flexible and so superb, forms a crown; which, like that of kings, serves the double purpose of decorating the august head to which it gives a splendour, and disguising the immense weight that loads it. How richly does architecture, which creates such monuments, merit a place among the fine arts!”

The light, as we have before observed, is admitted only by a circular opening in the dome, which is twenty-eight feet in diameter180. Through this aperture a flood of light diffuses itself over the whole edifice, producing a sublime effect, but only showing all its beauties by permitting every passing shower to deluge its gorgeous pavement. The rain is carried off by a drain to the Tiber; but from the low situation of the building in the Campus Martius, the waters of the Tiber, when it is swollen, find their way up the drain, and flood the interior. Myriads of beetles, scorpions, worms, rats and mice, may then be seen retreating before the waters, as they gradually rise from the circumference to the centre of the area, which is a little elevated above the rest of it. “A beautiful effect,” says Dr. Burton, “is produced by visiting the building on these occasions at night, when the moon is reflected upon the water, through the aperture of the dome.”

“The Pantheon retains its majestic portico,” says Mr. Eustace, “and presents its graceful dome uninjured; the pavement, laid by Agrippa, and trodden by Augustus, still forms its floor; the compartments and fluted pillars of the richest marble, that originally lined its walls, still adorn its inward circumference; the deep tints that age has thrown over it, only contribute to raise its dignity, and augment our veneration; and the traveller enters its portal, through which twice twenty generations have flowed in succession, with a mixture of awe and religious veneration. Yet the Pantheon itself has been ‘shorn of its beams,’ and looks eclipsed through the ‘disastrous twilight of eighteen centuries.’”

Augustus dwelt at first181 near the Roman Forum, in a house which had belonged to the orator Calvus; afterwards on the Palatine, but in the moderate house of Hortensius, which was not conspicuous, either for extent or ornament; it had some porticoes of Alban columns, and rooms without any marble or remarkable pavement. For more than forty years he occupied the same chamber, in winter and in summer; and although he found the city by no means favourable to his health in the winter, yet he constantly passed the winter in it. After the palace had been accidentally destroyed by fire, Augustus had it rebuilt, as we are told, and ordered it to be entirely opened to the public. This edifice was called Palatium, from the name of the hill on which it stood; and that being afterwards applied to the residence of the Roman emperors, it has passed into most of the languages of Europe, as the common appellation of a princely mansion.

It was under the immediate successors of Augustus that the Palatine rose in splendour, till it eclipsed all that we read of magnificence in the history of the ancient world. The imperial possessors of this proud eminence seem to have regarded it as a theatre for their amusement; and upon it their “gorgeous tyranny” was amply displayed, in the vast and costly structures which they erected for the gratification of their personal pleasure or caprice.

This palace received many additions by Tiberius, Caligula, and Domitian; and, finally, by Nero; from whom it was called “the golden house of Nero.” It is thus described by Salmon, from Suetonius, Tacitus, and other writers:—“From the remains in the back part of the Palatine-hill, the ancient palace of Nero, from its great extent and vast size, was no less difficult to be inhabited than it is for us to believe its magnificence. It was built by the famous architects Severus and Cererus. In the vestibule or principal entrance was the colossal statue of Nero, of bronze. It was one hundred and twenty feet high, of excellent workmanship, by Zenodorus, who was sent for from Gaul for the purpose. It was restored by Vespasian, and dedicated to the sun. The emperor added the rays, which were twenty-two feet and a half in length. In the porticos were three galleries supported by large columns, which extended a mile in length. This palace enclosed all the Palatine-hill, together with the plain between the Palatine and the Cælius, and part of the Esquiline mount near to the garden of Mæcenas. It was raised on large columns of marble carried on a level from the Palatine to the Esquiline. The superb entrance was facing the Via Sacra. Nero, in order to execute this design, destroyed the houses of many of the citizens, which occasioned the saying, that Rome consisted of one house. Tacitus writes, that when Rome was in flames seven days and nights, it was not to be extinguished till all the buildings about the Palatine were burnt. Where the amphitheatre now stands, Nero formed a lake to resemble the sea, with edifices around it similar to a city, together with extensive gardens and walks, and places for wild beasts, vineyards, &c. In the palace were a great number of halls, and an innumerable quantity of rooms, galleries, and statues, resplendent in every part with gold, gems, and precious stones; from which circumstance it acquired the name of the golden house. Many of the rooms destined for public feasts were very spacious, with most beautiful ceilings, which turned round in such a manner that from various parts there fell flowers and exquisite odours. The principal hall where Nero supped was circular, and of such art, that the ceiling was ornamented with stars to resemble the heavens, in conformity to which it continually revolved night and day. Birds of silver were carved in the other ceilings with surprising art. Amulius, a celebrated artist, was employed during the whole of his life to paint this palace. The tables were of ivory, the floors of the rooms were intersected with works in gold compartments of gems and mother-of-pearl: the marble, the bronze, the statues, and the richest of the tapestry, were beyond all description. When Nero went to inhabit it, he said, full of pride, ‘I now begin to be lodged like a man.’ Here, particularly, was a temple of Fortune, consecrated by Servius Tullius, and constructed by Nero, of a fine transparent alabaster, called fingites. This stone was brought from Cappadocia, and was so clear, that every object might be seen when the doors were shut, as if it were noon-day. In the gardens were delightful baths, numerous fish-ponds and pastures, with all sorts of animals. Here were also baths of fresh and sea water. To erect these wonderful edifices Italy was ruined with impositions and burdens, and its temples spoiled of their precious ornaments, statues of gold and silver, as likewise great part of the empire. Tacitus writes in his Annals, that it was twice burned and rebuilt; that is, in the fire under Nero, and in the sixth year of Trajan. According to Dion, it was burnt the third time under the emperor Commodus; and, as he rebuilt it, it was called from him Colonia Commodiana. Various emperors, abhorring the excess of so much riches and luxury, removed the most valuable part, and employed it for the greater ornament of the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. Antoninus Pius, detesting the extent of the palace, contented himself with the part called Tiberiana, and shut up the rest. All this magnificence, time, and especially the malignity of man, have destroyed, and cypresses, symbols of death and desolation, triumph on the ruins.”

Its present condition has been thus described by the poet:—

Arches were public buildings,182 designed for the reward and encouragement of noble enterprises, erected generally to the honour of such eminent persons as had either won a victory of extraordinary consequence abroad, or had rescued the commonwealth at home from considerable danger. At first, they were plain and rude structures, by no means remarkable for beauty or state. But in later times no expenses were thought too great for the rendering them in the highest degree splendid and magnificent; nothing being more usual than to have the greatest actions of the heroes they stood to honour curiously expressed, or the whole procession of the triumph cut out on the sides. The arches built by Romulus were only of brick; that of Camillus, of plain square stone; but those of Cæsar, Drusus, Titus, Trajan, Gordian, &c., were entirely of marble.

The most distinguished of these arches are those of Titus and Septimius Severus. That of Gallienus is a mere gateway, and that of Drusus seems part of an aqueduct; yet, coarse as they are, each has its Corinthian columns, and pediments on a portion of the fronts. That of Constantine was erected after the defeat of Maxentius, and was so contrived that the music for the triumph might be placed in it. When the procession reached the arch, the band began to play, and continued till the whole had passed through.

The arch of Titus is situate on the eastern declivity of the Palatine Mount. It is so rich, that some regard it not as elegant. The entablature, the imposts, the key-stones, are all crowded with sculpture; yet all, according to the taste of Mr. Forsyth, are meagre in profile. It was erected by the senate, in gratitude to Titus for having conquered Judea and taken Jerusalem. It is, therefore, one of the most interesting monuments of ancient Rome; and so sensibly do the Jews still feel the injury, done to their nation, that none of them can be tempted to pass under it.

The triumph is represented on each side of the arch in oblong spaces, seven feet in height, and nearly fourteen in length. The emperor appears in a triumphal car drawn by four horses,—Victory crowning him with a laurel. Rome is personified as a female. She conducts the horses; lictors, citizens, and soldiers, attending. On the opposite side is represented a procession, in which are carried, by persons crowned with laurel and bearing the Roman standards, various spoils taken at Jerusalem; such as the silver trumpets, the golden table, and the golden candlestick with seven branches.

The arch of Severus was erected in honour of the emperor Septimius, and his two sons Caracalla and Geta, on account of victories obtained over the Parthians. We know from history, says Dr. Burton, that he made two expeditions into the East; the first in 195, when he conquered Vologeses; the second in 199, when he took Ctesiphon, and the treasures of king Artabanus. Spartian tells us, that he triumphed after the first expedition; but refused the honour the second time, because he had the gout. His son triumphed in his stead; and it was upon this occasion that the arch was erected.

This triumphal arch consists of three; that is, a large one in the middle, and a smaller one on each side. These arches183 are not in a very pure style of architecture; but they are rich and handsome objects. Four projecting columns adorn each face, and the entablature bricks around each of them. Above the columns are supposed to have been statues; while, on the top, as we learn from coins, was a car drawn by six horses abreast, containing two persons in it, and having on each side an attendant on horseback, followed by one on foot. The material of the arch is marble; and each front is covered, between the columns, with bas-reliefs. These bas-reliefs illustrate the campaigns and victories, in commemoration of which the arch was erected. But the whole series, says Dr. Burton, is in an indifferent style of sculpture, and presents but a poor idea of the state of the arts at that time. Mr. Wood, however, regards them, though bad in design as well as execution, as contributing to the magnificence of the edifice. Mr. Forsyth, however, is not given to indulge in respect to the architecture; for he says, that the composite starts so often and so “furiously” out, the poverty of its entablature meets you in so many points, as to leave no repose to the eye. Within the arch is a marble staircase, leading by fifty steps to the summit. The arch itself was half buried so late as the year 1803. Several excavations had been made; but the loose soil had slipped down, and quickly filled them up again. Pope Pius VII. was more successful in the attempt than his predecessors had been; and by the year 1804 the whole arch had been uncovered, and laid open down to the bottom.

The site of the temple of Romulus is now occupied by the church of San Teodoro, a small rotunda. The walls are of great antiquity, and marvellously perfect. In regard to the temple of Romulus and Remus, few buildings have occasioned more disputes. It is now the church of S.S. Cosimo e Damiano; the vestibule, several porphyry columns, and a bronze door of which are exceedingly ancient.

The temple of Vesta, erected by Numa, now forms part of the church of S. Maria del Sola. It is of Greek architecture, and surrounded by a portico of nineteen Corinthian columns, on a flight of steps, the whole of Parian marble. The roof was originally covered with bronze, brought from Syracuse; but that has, long since, been replaced by materials much less costly.

The temple of Minerva Medici stands in a garden on the Esquiline-hill; it is round without, but forms a decagon within, and appears to have had ten windows, and nine niches for statues. Here were found statues of Æsculapius, Venus, Hercules, the Faun, and that of Minerva with the serpent.

The church Sa. Maria in Cosmedin is supposed to have been the temple of Puditia Patricia, or Chastity, which no plebeian was allowed to enter. Pope Adrian I. rebuilt this edifice in 728, retaining the cella, and many portions of the ancient temple.

A mean-looking church, called Sa. Maria d’ Ara Cœli, wholly devoid of external ornament, is supposed to stand on the site of the temple of Jupiter Feretrius. A flight of one hundred and twenty-four steps of marble, brought from the temple of Jupiter Quirinus, forms the ascent to it from the Campus Martius; the interior has twenty-two ancient columns of granite, and the whole appears to be an assemblage of fragments of other buildings. It was whilst musing in this church, “whilst the friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter,” that Gibbon says he first conceived the idea of writing his immortal history.

The beautiful temple of Jupiter Tonans was erected by Augustus, in gratitude for his escape from lightning. Only three of the thirty columns of the portico now remain, together with a portion of the frieze. They are of Luna marble, four feet four inches in diameter, with Corinthian capitals, and appear originally to have been tinged with Tyrian purple.

During the time of Claudius, the very curious temple of Faunus was built upon the Celian mount. It was of circular form, and had internally two rows of Ionic columns, with arches springing immediately from the capitals. The upper windows had each a column in the middle, with arches also springing from the capitals; and these two arches were enclosed by a semicircular arch, which had its springing upon the jambs of the windows; and, rising higher, left a considerable space between it and the two before-mentioned small arches, in which space was a circular opening. This is particularly noticed as an early and distinct type of what was afterwards named Saxon, Norman, and Gothic.

The temple of Concord was the place in which Lentulus and other confederates of Catiline were brought before the senate in order to be tried, and whence they were taken to the Mamertine prisons. “For my own part,” says Middleton, “as oft as I have been wandering about in the very rostra of old Rome, or in that of the temple of Concord, where Tully assembled the senate in Catiline’s conspiracy, I could not help fancying myself much more sensible of the force of his eloquence; whilst the impression of the place served to warm my imagination to a degree almost equal to that of his old audience.” Of late years, however, these ruins have been ascribed to the temple of Fortune, burnt in the time of Maxentius, the competitor of Constantine.

The temple of Fortune was, for a long time, taken for the temple of Concord. Its portico is nearly complete; consisting of six granite columns in front, and two behind, supporting an entablature and pediment. The columns all vary in diameter, and have bases and capitals of white marble. From this circumstance it is conjectured that it was erected with the spoils of other buildings; their original temple, burnt in the time of Maxentius, having been rebuilt by Constantine.

The temple of Nerva was erected by Trajan. It was one of the finest edifices of ancient Rome; but all that now remains of it is a cella, and three fine columns of Parian marble, fifty feet in height, supporting an architrave.

The temple of Peace184, erected by Vespasian, was enriched with spoils from Jerusalem. This temple is related to have been one of the most magnificent in Rome: it was encircled with a coating of gilt bronze, and adorned with stupendous columns of white marble; it was also enriched with some of the finest sculptures and paintings of which the ancient world could boast185. Among the former was a colossal statue of the Nile, surrounded by sixteen children, cut out of one block of basalt; among the latter was the famous picture of Jalysus, painted by Protogenes of Rhodes. Here, too, were deposited the candlesticks, and some other of the spoils, which Titus brought from Jerusalem. There was also a curious library attached to the edifice.

Three immense arches, which rank amongst the most remarkable remains in Rome, are all that are left of this once stupendous structure, which, until lately, was supposed to be the temple of Peace, erected by Vespasian at the close of the Judean war. But the great degeneracy of the workmanship, and its being wholly unlike all erections of that nature, has led to the opinion that the remains are neither of the time of Vespasian, nor those of the temple, which, with all the immense treasures it contained, was destroyed by fire, about one hundred years after its erection; but of a Basilica186, erected by Maxentius on the ruins of the temple, and converted by Constantine into a Christian church. The stupendous proportions of this structure are shown by the three vaulted roofs, each seventy-five feet across, which rise above the surrounding buildings in huge but not ungainly masses. The vault of the middle arch, which is placed further back, forms part of a sphere; the side ones are cylindrical; all are ornamented with sunk panels of stucco-work. The church appears to have consisted of a nave and two aisles, divided by enormous pillars of marble, one of which now stands in front of the church of La Maria Maggiore. It is of a single block, of forty-eight feet in height, and sixteen and a half in circumference.

Of the fine temple, di Venere e Roma,187 the cella of each deity remains, with the niches, in which were their statues, and a portion of one of the side walls, which prove it to have been of vast size, great magnificence, and a chef-d’œuvre of architecture. The emperor Adrian himself drew the plans, which he submitted to Apollodorus, whose opinion respecting them is said to have been the cause of his untimely death. The temples, although they had each a separate entrance and cella, formed but one edifice; the substructure of which, having been recently excavated, is found to have been three hundred and thirty by one hundred and sixty feet. A noble flight of steps, discovered at the same time, between the arch of Titus and the church of St. Francesco, formed the approach of the Forum, which front, as well as that towards the Coliseum, was adorned with columns of Parian marble, six feet in diameter; and the whole was surrounded by a portico, with a double row of columns of grey granite. The walls and pavement of the interior were incrusted with fine marble, and the roof richly gilt.

The Temple of Antoninus was erected by Marcus Aurelius in 178, in memory of Antoninus and his consort Faustina. The original portico, consisting of ten Corinthian columns of Cippolino marble, and a portion of the temple itself, now form the church of S. Lorenzo in Miranda.

The column of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus was erected by the senate in honour of that illustrious emperor. Bassi-rilievi run spirally from the bottom to the top, representing the Marcomannian war. It is composed of twenty-six blocks of Parian marble, and is one hundred and twenty-three feet in height. The statue of the emperor once stood on its summit, but it has been replaced by that of St. Paul.

This leads us to speak of the great statue of the same emperor. The horse was so greatly admired by Michael Angelo, that when he first saw it, he looked at it in silence for some time, and then said, “Go on!” “This great statue of Marcus Aurelius,” says Mr. Forsyth, “or rather of his horse, which was once the idol of Rome, is now a subject of contention. Some critics find the proportions of the animal false, and his attitude impossible. One compares his head to an owl, another his belly to a cow’s, but the well-known apostrophe of a third (Michael Angelo) will ever prevail in your first impressions. The spirit and fire of the general figure will seduce the most practised eye. Ancient sculptors, intent only on man, are supposed to have neglected the study of animals; and we certainly find very rude accessories affixed to some exquisite antiques. Perhaps they affected such contrasts as strike us in the work of the Faun and his panther, the Meleager and his dogs, the Apollo and his swans, where the accessory serves as a foil. The horse, however, comes so frequently into heroic subjects, that the greatest artists of antiquity must have made him their particular study, and we are told that they did so; but it were unfair to judge of their excellence from this bruised and unfortunate animal.”

This celebrated statue is the only one of bronze of all that adorned the city in ancient times. It has been called, at different periods, by the names of Lucius Verus, Septimius Severus, and Constantine. It was placed in its present position by Paul III. in 1538, being then removed from before the church of St. John Lateran. A bunch of flowers is said to be presented every year to the chapter of St. John, as an acknowledgment, that the statue belongs to them; but this Sir John Hobhouse denies. The statue was originally gilt; the coating laid on, according to the practice of the ancients, in very thick leaves; and some traces of it may still be observed.

We now turn to the Coliseum. The shows of wild beasts were in general designed for the honour of Diana, the patroness of hunting. For this purpose, no cost was spared to fetch the different creatures from the farthest parts of the world.

And shortly after,

Some creatures were presented merely as strange sights and rarities; as crocodiles, and several outlandish birds and beasts: others for the combat, as lions, tigers, leopards, &c. We may reckon up three sorts of diversions with the beasts, which all went under the common name of Venatio:—The first, when the people were permitted to run after the beasts, and catch what they could for their own use; the second, when the beasts fought with one another; and the last, when they were brought out to engage with men.188

The fights between beasts were exhibited with great variety; sometimes a tiger was matched with a lion; sometimes a lion with a bull; a bull with an elephant; a rhinoceros with a bear, &c. But the most wonderful sight was, when by bringing water into the amphitheatre, huge sea-monsters were introduced to combat with wild beasts:—

The men, that engaged with wild beasts, had the common name of Bestiarii. Some of these were condemned persons; others hired themselves at a set pay, like the Gladiators; and like them, too, had their schools where they were instructed and initiated in such combats. We find several of the nobility and gentry many times voluntarily undertaking a part in these encounters; and Juvenal acquaints us, that the very women were ambitious of showing their courage on the like occasions, though with the forfeiture of their modesty.

One of the best accounts of this wonderful edifice, is that given in Burford’s account of the Panorama painted by himself, and now (1839,) exhibiting in Leicester Square, London. “The far-famed amphitheatre of Vespasian, or, as it is more generally called, the Coliseum, is one of the most extraordinary and massive works, that Rome, or any other country, ever produced; and forms one of the most surprising, and intensely interesting, objects of attraction amongst the many gigantic remains of that ancient city. In whatever way it is viewed, whether as regards its immense size, the solidity of its structure, the simplicity and harmony of its architecture, the grace and beauty of its proportions, or its internal arrangement and convenience, it equally strikes the mind with wonder and admiration; and is universally admitted to be one of the noblest remains of antiquity in the world. Placed at some distance from the gorgeous churches, extensive palaces, and busy streets of modern Rome, it stands alone in solitary dignity and gloomy contrast; elevating its stupendous masses from above the surrounding ruins of the imperial city; a striking image of Rome itself in its present state, erect on the one side, fallen on the other; half grey, half green, deserted and decaying; a splendid and melancholy monument of past greatness; and no monument of human power, no memorial of departed ages, ever spoke more forcibly to the heart, or awakened feelings so powerful, and unutterable. The Coliseum was commenced by Flavius Vespasian, in the year 72, as a triumphal memorial of his victories in Judea; and it also served to perpetuate the recollection of the many horrid cruelties, committed by the conquering Romans during that war. It was erected, according to Martial and Pliny, on the spot formerly occupied by a lake or fish-pond, in the gardens of Nero’s golden house, then nearly the centre of the city. Twelve thousand Jewish prisoners, reduced to slavery, were employed on the work; and when it is considered, that so large and solid an edifice was completed in little more than four years, it becomes clearly evident, that the utmost cruelty and oppression must have been resorted to, to compel these unfortunates to complete the task. Titus, the son of Vespasian, finished the building; and on its dedication exhibited shows and games for one hundred days, during which numbers of gladiators were killed, and five thousand wild beasts were torn to pieces in the arena.”

This vast amphitheatre is of an elliptical shape, which gives it great powers of resistance. According to the best and most recent measurement, it must be about one thousand one hundred and eighty eight feet in external circumference, the long axis being six hundred and twenty-eight, the short five hundred and forty, and the total height one hundred and sixty feet.189 The whole is a vast mixed mass of enormous blocks of stone and bricks, (probably portions of the golden palace), metal and cement, which have become so hardened by time, as to be like solid rock. The exterior was entirely of calcareous tufa of Tivoli, called travertine, a fine hard and white stone. It presents a series of three ranges of open arcades, so airy and correct in their proportions, that the building does not appear so large as it really is. Each tier consisted of thirty arches; the columns between which, together with the entablatures, displaying different orders of architecture, the lowest being Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian, surmounted by an attic story, with Composite pilasters, and forty windows. The two upper tiers of arches, which have the remains of pedestals for statues in them, admitted light to the various ambulacra or corridors, which were quadrangular at the base, diminishing in number and size as they ascended, and terminating in a single passage at the top. The lowest tier of arches were the entrances, seventy-six of which were for the emperor, finely ornamented; one for the spectators, of various denominations; and one for the consuls, senators, &c.; and two for the gladiators, animals, &c. These entrances led to the various staircases by which the populace gained the different dormitories, and descended by narrow flights of steps, to the graduated ranges of seats. Altogether there were one hundred and sixty staircases: that is,—to the first floor, sixty-four; to the second, fifty-two; to the third, sixteen; to the fourth, twenty-four; and four to the extreme top, for the workmen. In the four ambulacra on the ground floor, were shops, taverns, stables, and rooms for refreshments, and places where perfumes were burned. There was also a fifth, or private passage, under the pulvinar, for the use of the emperor, which communicated subterraneously with the palace. In the tier above were twenty-two small vaulted chambers, called fornices, devoted to the sensual pleasures of the privileged classes.

It is impossible to say at what period the amphitheatre was first suffered to decay. The sanguinary exhibitions of the gladiators were abolished in the reign of Honorius, at the commencement of the fifth century; yet so late as 1632, it must have been perfect, as bull-fights, and other games, were at that time exhibited. A great portion of the southern side was demolished by order of Paul III., it is said at the recommendation of Michael Angelo, to furnish materials for the Farnese palace for his nephew, and the complaints of the populace alone saved it from total demolition. It has however since suffered frequently from similar depredations of worse than Goths and Vandals, so that

These robberies have now ceased; Benedict XIV. having, by the erection of a series of altars in the arena, made the whole consecrated ground; a most efficient protection against the ravages of modern barbarism. Pius has also erected a massive buttress against the weakest end, and repaired some parts of the interior. Thus, after a lapse of nearly eighteen centuries, having frequently suffered from earthquakes, storms, and fire; having been several times battered as a fortress, during the civil contentions of the middle ages; defaced as a quarter for soldiers; used as a manufactory, and worked as a quarry, it still remains a miracle of human labour and ingenuity, and is, even in its present state, one of the noblest remains of antiquity, and the most wonderful monument of Roman magnificence. Solitary and desolated, it is still grand and imposing; the rich hues which time has overspread its venerable fragments with, the luxuriant clusters of vegetation, and the graceful drapery of numerous beautiful creepers, festooning from the rifted arches, and broken arcades, whilst assimilating with the general character, add an indescribable richness and variety to the whole, that has a powerful effect on the mind of the spectator.

When the whole amphitheatre was entire190, a child might comprehend its design in a moment, and go direct to his place without straying in the porticoes; for each arcade bears its number engraved, and opposite each arcade was a staircase. This multiplicity of wide, straight, and separate passages, proves the attention which the ancients paid to the safe discharge of a crowd.191 As it now stands, the Coliseum is a striking image of Rome itself;—decayed, vacant, serious; yet grand:—half grey, and half green; erect on one side and fallen on the other, with consecrated ground in its bosom, inhabited by a herdsman; visited by every caste: for moralists, antiquaries, painters, architects, devotees, all meet here to meditate, to examine, to draw, to measure, and to copy.

The figure of the Coliseum was an ellipse, whose longer diameter was about six hundred and fifteen English feet, and the shorter five hundred and ten feet. The longer diameter of the arena, or space within, was about two hundred and eighty-one feet, and the shorter one hundred and seventy-six feet, leaving the circuit for seats and galleries, of about one hundred and fifty-seven feet in breadth. The outward circumference when complete was about seventeen hundred and seventy-two feet, covering a surface of about two hundred and forty-six thousand, six hundred and sixty-one feet, or something more than five acres and a half. When some pilgrims192 who journeyed to Rome beheld this vast amphitheatre, they are said to have exclaimed, “As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; and when Rome falls, the world will fall.”

193It is impossible to contemplate without horror the dreadful scenes of carnage which for two hundred and fifty years disgraced the amphitheatre, or to regard without utter detestation the character of the people who took pleasure in spectacles of such monstrous brutality. We may form some idea of the myriads of men and animals destroyed in these houses of slaughter, from one instance which is recorded by Dio. He informs us that after the triumph of Trajan over the Dacians, spectacles were exhibited for one hundred and twenty-three days, in which eleven thousand animals were killed, and one thousand gladiators were matched against each other. Nor was it only malefactors, captives, and slaves, that were doomed to contend in these dreadful games: free-born citizens hired themselves as gladiators, men of noble birth sometimes degraded themselves so far as to fight on the stage for the amusement of their countrymen,—even women, ladies too of high rank, forgetting the native delicacy and the feebleness of their sex, strove on the arena for the prize of valour for the honour of adroitness in murder. A people thus inured to blood, were prepared for every villainy; nor is it possible to read of the enormities which disgraced the transactions of the later Romans, without ascribing them in a great measure to the ferocity of temper, fostered by the shocking amusements of the amphitheatre.

“The Coliseo,” says Dupaty, “is unquestionably the most admirable monument of the Roman power under the Cæsars. From its vast circuit, from the multitude of stones of which it is formed, from that union of columns of every order, which rise up one above the other, in a circular form, to support three rows of porticoes; from all the dimensions, in a word, of this prodigious edifice, we instantly recognise the work of a people, sovereigns of the universe, and slaves of an emperor. I wandered long around the Coliseo, without venturing, if I may so say, to enter it: my eyes surveyed it with admiration and awe. Not more than one half of this vast edifice at present is standing; yet the imagination may still add what has been destroyed, and complete the whole. At length I entered within its precincts. What an astonishing scene! What contrasts! What a display of ruins, and of all the parts of the monument, of every form, every age, and, as I may say, every year; some bearing the marks of the hand of time, and others of the hand of the barbarian. These crumbled down yesterday, those a few days before, a great number on the point of falling, and some, in short, which are falling from one moment to another. Here we see a tottering portico, there a falling entablament, and further on, a seat; while, in the meanwhile, the ivy, the bramble, the moss, and various plants, creep amongst these ruins, grow, and insinuate themselves; and, taking root in the cement, are continually detaching, separating, and reducing to powder these enormous masses; the work of ages, piled on each other by the will of an emperor, and the labour of a hundred thousand slaves. There was it then that gladiators, martyrs, and slaves, combated on the Roman festivals, only to make the blood circulate a little quicker in the veins of a hundred thousand idle spectators. I thought I still heard the roaring of the lions, the sighs of the dying, the voice of the executioners, and what would strike my ear with still greater horror, the applauses of the Romans. I thought I heard them, by these applauses, encouraging and demanding carnage; the men requiring still more blood from the combatants; and the women, more mercy for the dying. I imagined I beheld one of these women, young and beautiful, on the fall of a gladiator, rise from her seat and with an eye which had just caressed a lover, welcome, or repel, find fault with, or applaud, the last sigh of the vanquished, as if she had paid for it.

“But what a change has taken place in this arena! In the middle stands a crucifix, and all round this crucifix, at equal distances, fourteen altars, consecrated to different saints, are erected in the dens, which once contained the wild beasts. The Coliseo was daily hastening to destruction; the stones were carried off, and it was constantly disfigured, and made the receptacle of filth; when Benedict XIV. conceived the idea of saving this noble monument by consecrating it; by defending it with altars, and protecting it with indulgences. These walls, these columns, and these porticoes, have now no other support but the names of those very martyrs with whose blood they were formerly stained. I walked through every part of the Coliseo; I ascended into all its different stories; and sat down in the box of the emperors. I shall long remember the silence and solitude that reigned through these galleries, along these ranges of seats, and under these vaulted porticoes. I stopped from time to time to listen to the echo of my feet in walking. I was delighted, too, with attending to a certain faint rustling, more sensible to the soul than to the ear, occasioned by the hand of time, which is continually at work, and undermining the Coliseo on every side. What pleasure did I not enjoy, too, in observing how the day gradually retired, and the night as gradually advanced over the arcades, spreading her lengthening shadows. At length I was obliged to retire; with my mind, however, filled with and absorbed in a thousand ideas, a thousand sensations, which can only arise among these ruins, and which these ruins in some degree inspire. Where are the five thousand wild beasts that tore each other to pieces, on the day on which this mighty pile was opened? Silent now are those unnatural shouts of applause, called forth by the murderous fights of the gladiators:—What a contrast to this death of sound!”

“Ascending among the ruins,” says Mr. Williams, “we took our station where the whole magnitude of the Coliseum was visible. What a fulness of mind the first glance excited; yet how inexpressible, at the same time, were our feelings! The awful silence of this dread ruin still appealed to our hearts. The single sentinel’s tread, and the ticking of our watches, were the only sounds we heard, while the moon was marching in the vault of night, and the stars were peeping through the various openings; the shadows of the flying clouds being all that reminded us of life and of motion.”

The manner, in which the traveller should survey the curiosities of Rome, must be determined by the length of time which he can afford for that purpose. “There are two modes of seeing Rome,” says Mr. Mathews; “the topographical, followed by Vasi, who parcels out the town into eight divisions, and jumbles every thing together,—antiquities, churches, and palaces, if their situation be contiguous; and the chronological,—which would carry you regularly from the house of Romulus to the palace of the reigning pontiff. The first mode is the most expeditious, and the least expensive; for even if the traveller walk afoot, the economy of time is worth considering; and after all that can be urged in favour of the chronological order, on the score of reason, Vasi’s plan is perhaps the best. For all that is worth seeing at all is worth seeing twice. Vasi’s mode hurries you through every thing; but it enables you to select and note down those objects that are worthy of public examination, and these may be afterwards studied at leisure. Of the great majority of sights it must be confessed that all we obtain for our labour is the knowledge that they are not worth seeing;—but this is a knowledge, that no one is willing to receive upon the authority of another, and Vasi’s plan offers a most expeditious mode of arriving at this truth by one’s own proper experience. His plan is, however, too expeditious; for he would get through the whole town, with all its wonders, ancient and modern, in eight days!”

Expeditious as it is, some of our indefatigable countrymen have contrived to hit upon one still more so. You may tell them that the antiquaries allow eight days for the tour, and they will boast of having beaten the antiquaries, and “done it in six.” This rapid system may do, or rather must do, for those who have no time for any other; but to the traveller who wishes to derive instruction and profit from his visit, a more leisurely survey is essential. “For my own part,” says Mr. Woods, “the first eight days I spent in Rome were all hurry and confusion, and I could attend to nothing systematically, nor even examine any thing with accuracy; a sort of restless eagerness to see every thing and know every thing, gave me no power of fixing my attention on any one particular.”

We must now close our account: not that we have by any means exhausted the subject, for it demands volumes and years; whereas our space is limited, and our time is short. We shall, therefore, devote the remainder of our space and time to the impressions with which the ruins of this city have been viewed by several elegant and accomplished travellers.

“At length I behold Rome,” said Dupaty. “I behold that theatre, where human nature has been all that it can ever be, has performed every thing it can perform, has displayed all the virtues, exhibited all the vices, brought forth the sublimest heroes, and the most execrable monsters, has been elevated to a Brutus, degraded to a Nero, and re-ascended to a Marcus Aurelius.”

“Even those who have not read at all,” says Dr. Burton, “know, perhaps, more of the Romans than of any other nation194 which has figured in the world. If we prefer modern history to ancient, we still find Rome in every page; and if we look with composure upon an event so antiquated as the fall of the Roman empire, we cannot, as Englishmen, or as protestants, contemplate with indifference the sacred empire which Rome erected over the minds and consciences of men. Without making any invidious allusion, it may be said that this second empire has nearly passed away; so that, in both points of view, we have former recollections to excite our curiosity.”

“Neither the superb structures,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “nor the happy climate, have made Rome the country of every man, and ‘the city of the soul.’ The education, which has qualified the traveller of every nation for that citizenship, prepares enjoyments for him at Rome, independent of the city and inhabitants about him, and of all the allurements of site and climate. He will already people the banks of the Tiber with the shades of Pompey, Constantine, and Belisarius, and other heroes. The first footsteps within the venerable walls will have shown him the name and magnificence of Augustus, and the three long narrow streets, branching from the obelisk in the centre of the Piazza del Popolo, like the theatre of Palladio, will have imposed upon his fancy with an air of antiquity congenial to the soil. Even the mendicants of the country asking alms in Latin prayers, and the vineyard gates of the suburbs, inscribed with the ancient language, may be allowed to contribute to the agreeable delusion.”

“What,” says Chateaubriand, gazing on the ruins of Rome by moonlight, “what was doing here eighteen centuries ago, at a like hour of night? Not only has ancient Italy vanished, but the Italy of the middle ages is also gone. Nevertheless, the traces of both are plainly marked at Rome. If this modern city vaunts her St. Peter’s, ancient Rome opposes her Pantheon and all her ruins; if the one marshals from the Capitol her consuls and emperors, the other arrays her long succession of pontiffs. The Tiber divides the rival glories; seated in the same dust, pagan Rome sinks faster and faster into decay, and Christian Rome is gradually re-descending into the catacombs whence she issued.”

What says Lord Byron in regard to this celebrated city?—“I am delighted with Rome. As a whole—ancient and modern—it beats Greece, Constantinople, every thing,—at least that I have seen. As for the Coliseum, Pantheon, St. Peter’s, the Vatican, &c. &c., they are quite inconceivable, and must be seen.”

We close this article with a fine passage from Middleton’s Life of Cicero:—“One cannot help reflecting on the surprising fate and revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, once the mistress of the world, the seat of arts, empire, and glory, now lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and poverty, enslaved to the most cruel, as well as the most contemptible of tyrants, superstition and religious imposture; while this remote country, anciently the jest and contempt of the polite Romans, is become the happy seat of liberty, plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the arts and refinements of civil life; yet running, perhaps, the same course which Rome itself had run before,—from virtuous industry to wealth; from wealth to luxury; from luxury to an impatience of discipline and corruption of morals; till, by a total degeneracy and loss of virtue, being grown ripe for destruction, it falls a prey at last to some hardy oppressor; and, with the loss of liberty, losing every thing that is valuable, sinks gradually again into original barbarism.”