"Between the two stools, then, she fell to | opened the windows of heaven, and poured the ground?" said I, musingly. "Yes, sir," added the guide; " and I believe there is something in the proverb, which says that one had better have the devil for his friend than have none."" Upon this we issued from the church and resumed our carriage, to set out for the capitol on the Capitoline Hill. Before leaving the Piazza del Popolo, however, I should not omit to give it credit for a fine Egyptian obelisk of brown stone, of great antiquity, brought from the temple of the sun at Heliopolis, but now consecrated at its summit by a Christian cross. Neither should I forget to mention my guide's warning that the Piazza del Popolo is generally subject to malaria during the summer months, and is by no means a place to promenade in after nightfall, when the pestiferous miasma descends upon the earth. We retraversed the whole Corso, and the entire length of the city, to get to the Capitoline Hill, that celebrated spot which performed so important a part in the history of ancient Rome. The carriage ascent is made by two rather steep and crescent-shaped avenues, which skirt the main steps and meet in a platform above, the sides of which are lined by two palaces of art, and the background occupied by the palace of the senator, containing offices of justice, and surmounted by a tower. The ascent to the platform is rendered imposing by two gigantic statues of Castor and Pollux | standing by their horses; and the platform or square itself is ornamented by a mounted bronze figure of Marcus Durelius, which is said to be the finest equestrian statue in existence. The tower of this capitol itself was what I wished to see, for from this point is opened out as in a map all the divisions of the old and new city; we therefore mounted without delay, and after a tedious circuit round many a flight of stairs, as if we were on a treadmill, we found ourselves in the open belfry of the tower, with a grand panorama lying wide round us, and narrowing in a city which nestled at our feet. That which spread out in the distance was the blank campagna, sere and burnt: and further on, over its brown waste, appeared the reliefs of the Sabine hills next the mountains, whence of old the Volai issued; and further still, the Appennines to the south, lay the pestilential Pontine marshes. Near was a portion of the plain where once was pitched the camp of Hanibal, and there I saw the Tiber, with its silvery waters still so clear that, when on its shores, you could see the stones and the fish at the bot tom "The hills that seemed a world on high, The lake that seemed a downward sky." For in that water ruined column and pillar, trees and hills were pictured; so that it seemed as if you were looking upon some city below the water, struck by the malediction of heaven for the wickedness of its inhabitants, which had, while they were feasting and rejoicing, suddenly down upon palace and dome, temple and altar a deluge. I look down into the flood, and I see in imagination festive scenes within those beautiful but desolate palaces. At the window sits my lost love, she who was faithless to me; and now she sits there as if she were looking for me with a beseeching look, spreading out her arms imploringly, and entreating me to take her again. No: it is only the pictured form of my own sorrow, which will never again find its other self, for which it has all its life been longing. The water still runs, unconscious of the past, and in the very bed which it pursued when it was the line that divided ancient Latium and Etruria. A few villas ventured out a little diɛtance from the city here and there; and now and then a village, with its clump of trees, might be seen to diversify the prospect further on; but everything seemed faded, and the sapless earth looked as if nothing could redeem it into verdure. Nearer, where we stood, clustered the habitable quarters; and we saw, distinctly marked upon the seven hills, the bones of the old metropolis, mixed in great part among the living structures and veins and muscles of the new. Prominent in the latter division swelled the proud cathedral of St. Peter, and superior above all the remains of the dead city, loomed the great mastodon of edifices, the fractured, roofless, and empty carcass of the coliseum, woeful, but not voiceless; desolate, but not undignified; mightiest of its day, but mightier because its day is past, and containing more, in the ivyless circle of its walls, of the history of departed times, than the tongues of a thousand living lecturers can teach. Having studied Rome from this height for an hour or more, I descended and entered the palace to the right of the platform, which is called the museum of the Capitol. I found it filled with marbles of the rarest merit, which had been gathered from time to time from the excavated Roman palaces they once adorned. There lay, resting on his elbow, the blood flowing from his side, the Dying Gladiator, the Faun of Praxiteles, Hebe, and the famous Antoninus, which for a time contended for the palm of exquisite manly beauty with the Apollo Belvidere. A lovely Venus stands, with all that bewitching charm which holds you to the spot; and here a winged figure appears in a listening attitude, leaning forward as if he were one of the banished gods, imprisoned in marble, expecting some deliverer who would grant life and liberty from those stone walls where he is made a show, and who would give him, with all the other poor afflicted deities, power and dominion again. Look at the majesty and power of that Minerva, with that terrible Medusa's head upon her breast: you turn your head away as if you feared to be turned into stone. See those two lovely figures, one all nobility and majesty, the other all sweetness, loveliness, and grace. The form of their sandals is also different, their robes are gathered up with a proud dignity-in the former, a Roman lady, with a negli gence and careless grace, as if all her movements were set to some hidden music in the Grecian figure. Look at those sphynxes, with their lovely woman's head and bust; do they not seem inviting you, like Fleine's sphynx, to come and throw your arms round them? They seem to breathe, and the sun shining through the stained window brings the delicate flush of the maiden rose upon their face. You turn away, for you feel as if you attempted it they would fix their cruel claws in you, which you would be utterly unable to shake off, and which, like the sharp arrows of retributive justice, you would bear with you all your life. Then you see scattered about mutilated forms of loveliness, and it would be quite possible here to play with the heads and crowns of kings as the old Romans did in the time of their prosperity and power. The museum opposite, called the Palace of the Conservatori, consists of a collection of marble busts, many of them by the celebrated sculptor Canova. Lovely frescoes look down, and appear to beckon you. In the large hall upstairs is another splendid collection of paintings, and there, in bronze, is the famous nurse which reared Romulus and Remus, alluded to by Cicero; also the two bronze geese, the originals of which, by their cackling, spared the city from being sacked by the Goths. Whoever has lived near a farm-yard can credit the story, by the painful experience of having your rest continually broken by the descendants of the old Roman geese; for nothing stirs but they lift up their sharp cackle-though their little ones' safety, and not yours, is their aim. Leaving the museum, and taking a turn to the left, through a dirty street, which seemed to bring up ducks as if they were an honour to the place, we came to a rude garden-gate, and, ringing a bell, a stout, good-natured looking woman came forth, who let us in, and we found our way to a corner of the garden which my guide assured me was the veritable spot whence the great criminals from the capitoline dungeons, and the traitors to the state, were cast headlong down the rock in the times of old. Most travellers have not been impressed with the Tarpeian height, which history has represented so awful; but I confess it seemed quite sufficient for all purposes of state, and sure to break any one's neck who was cast headlong forth. The precipice is much reduced by the accumulation of soil, which has gathered at its base more freely than in any other place, and its height is now sixty or seventy feet. In the cool of the evening I drove first along the Corso and then to the Coliseum, passing in my way the ruins of the palace of the Cæsars, and the arch of Constantine. Pursuing my way I reached the superb arch of Titus, the model of the gigantic one in Paris at the Barrier de l'Etoile, in commemoration of the victories of Napoleon. Then I came upon the beautiful little temple of Vesta, a model of which many of my readers must have seen in the Bodleian library. This is one of the best preservations in Rome, and often reproduced in Mosaics. Then I proceeded to the house of the celebrated senator Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes. It is now used as a stable, and after seeing it we returned to the Hotel d'Angleterre, and I retired to dream over again of all I had seen during the day. I was awakened at an early hour of my second day in the holy city by the sound of the detachment of soldiers under my windows. Shortly after followed the carol of a trumpet and the clatter of hoofs; and somewhat later came the grand swell of a full band, and the precise tramp of a heavy column of infantry. All these signs reminded me that the Gauls were once more masters of Rome; and I could not help reflecting on this parody of ancient history. The grandeur of the Coliseum the day before had made a profound impression on my mind, and early as it was I set out to renew my acquaintance with its remains. I had the visit quite to myself, and walked for a time about its vast arena where once had thronged the myriads of the imperial city, quite alone. No sound disturbed the solitude of the place but the dull echo of my own footfall; no object moved except some gliding lizard startled by my step. Presently there entered, by one of the gaps towards the open country, an old woman leading a little girl by the hand, who, advancing to a rude cross planted in the centre of the arena, knelt piously before it, and devoted themselves to prayer. Their last act was to rise and kiss the cross, whereupon they went their way. I found that this cross, and a plain pulpit near it, were established in commemoration of the massacres of the early Christians who had perished within these walls, and the kissing of the cross conferred an indulgence to the pilgrims of two hundred days. The form of the Coliseum is oval, or elliptical, and its extent may be conveyed by the fact that its structure covers nearly six acres of ground, and that its four storeys were originally 157 feet in height. Eightyseven thousand people were provided with seats around its arena, while, if the arena itself were filled, as in case of a popular assemblage, it might have held the population of all Rome. Underneath the platform or floor of the amphitheatre, which was supposed to have been laid with wood, were situated a row of dungeons and dens, one containing malefactors or heretics, who were to be torn to pieces, and the other tigers, and other wild beasts, who were to tear them. The gladiators, who contended, hand-to-hand for victory and life, were brought in from better quarters, to pay the spectators for their good food and training by vigorous strokes at their opponents. These combatants were either brawny malefactors, or Goths, or Gauls captured in the way of war. The scene is changed now, and French drums roll saucily about these humbled ruins, though still the vastest recollection of old Rome. The Coliseum has been much reduced, and has suffered more from the hands of domestic spoilers than from the tooth of Time, or the spite of the barbarians, who at various times became conflagration; it has escaped the ferocity of it. Then I visited the Mamertine prisons those awful stone dungeons underground where Jujurtha was starved to death, and where St. Peter is said to have been confined. I was I was shown the pillar to which they said he was chained, and was refreshed by the mark of his feet on the spot where he stood and performed certain miracles. There were no fragments left of the chain which fell to pieces when he was miraculously released at the summons of the angel; but I had seen one of the links of that chain at the church of the eleven thousand virgins at Cologne, so my curiosity was satisfied upon that point. After breakfast I drove to the Roman Forum, and thence to visit several pagan temples now converted into Christian churches, and I suspect, in some instances, the very pagan gods are there sanctified and christened by the names of the Apostles. I finished my researches among antiquities for the day by a visit to the Pantheon, the best preserved and most famous in the way of architectural excellence of any of the remains of Rome. It is the portico, however, which has gained for the Pantheon its great reputation. The Pantheon simply consists of a portico of sixteen Corinthian columns supporting a plain pediment, eight columns being ranged in front, and the rest in rows behind, so as to make a vestibule of columns. The body of this building before which this is placed is a plain rotunda, supporting a dome of exquisite proportions, the centre of which is open to the air by a circular aperture in the roof bound with a rim of brass. There are no windows at all; through the open circle in the dome alone comes all the light and air for the space within, and through that opening for nearly 12,000 years have the elements beaten without damage to the structure. The effect, both within and without, is very fine, and still more so as you look at it. That is the law with all true excellence. Anything that is really good disdains to triumph, except through the most deliberate operations of the judgment. The Pantheon has too a more teeming history than any of the monuments of ancient Rome. It has weathered all the vicissitudes of Government; it has stood unscathed amid barbarian "What revolution for its altars yet?" was the question that rose in my mind as I looked at the stately edifice, and peopled it again with sacrifices, priests, and pagan deities. From the Pantheon I drove to St. Peter's, the grandest monument of Modern Rome, and doubtless the most wondrous pile that ever was constructed, whether old or new. The site of the Coliseum is not much more vast, and its purposes condemned its grandeur mainly to the magnificence of its size; while St. Peter's unites size and dignity, beauty, harmony, proportion, and everything that can render architecture attractive and imposing. The Coliseum spans six acres, St. Peter's covers nearly five, and St. Paul's, London, only occupies two. The foundation of St. Peter's was laid by Pope Julius II., in 1506, on the site of an old church built by the Emperor Constantine, to mark St. Peter's grave. For a time it proceeded slowly, but in the middle of the century it was committed to the charge of Michael Angelo-a man who from the boldness of his genius was best fitted to be entrusted with this work. When he sat down to his task, the size of the Coliseum was doubtless first in his mind; then came to him the chaste and surpassing beauty of the Pantheon. He was troubled; for no calculation of means would enable him to lay out his foundation to the enormous platform of the first, and even his genius must have felt dubious of executing the second-the architectural gem of 1800 years. He could not attempt to make the cathedral excel the Coliseum in bulk. "But as for the Pantheon," said Angelo, "I will take that and put it into the dome of St. Peter's." And there it stands, with the exception of its portico, poised 150 feet above the ground-floor in the air. The task of laying out a plan for the cathedral was not confided to Michael Angelo till he was 75; but it may be named as the greatest achievement of his life. On the day after visiting it I was asked by a friend, of what material it was made; and so strongly did the triumph of the architect dwell upon me that I involuntarily answered that it was built out of the genius of Michael Angelo, and that every arch and pillar was a portion of the majestic structure of his mind. On entering the church I did not find myself as suddenly impressed with its vastness as I expected, and it was not till I had been there some time that I began to comprehend the extent. I was brought into contact with marble statues which seemed to be of the size of life, but proved of gigantic size. The figures on the dome, worked in mosaic, shared in this illusion, and yet they were 16 feet high; while a pen in the hand of St. Mark, which appeared in a curve of the ceiling like an ordinary goose-quill, I was told measured six feet. Everything inside this grand cathedral was on the same scale as the exterior, and every figure is consistent with its size; the floor is laid with coloured marbles, the niches filled with statues of the saints, and the side-chapels and walls decorated with superb mosaic copies of the great paintings of the old masters. The high altar stands in the centre of the church, under the dome and directly over the sepulchre of St. Peter, and round the steps which lead to the shrine 112 lamps are continually burning, night and day. I thought, as I looked at this pious display, of the masses which Henry V. of England had vainly decreed should be annually said over his body in Westminster Abbey, and of the lights which Queen Eleanor had ineffectually ordered should burn for ever round her tomb in the same place, and I wondered how many centuries these lights would live against some new reformation, or new revolution in the church. Around the altar and against the shafts of the dome are the statues of four saints who, in balconies above their heads, have the custody of the most choice relics of the church. One of these contains the handkerchief with which Jesus wiped his face when bearing the cross, and which is said to bear a veritable representation of His features; another holds a portion of the true cross. St. Andrew guards the relics of his own head, and St. Longinus (the soldier who pierced the side of Christ) still keeps the custody of his own lance. Another relic in the same circle are two columns brought from the original temple at Jerusalem. At one time I saw 60,000 soldiers stand up and hear mass in the aisles, which will give some faint idea of the immense extent of the place. that it seems to be gently drifting into air. In this you behold the last refinement of art, and I felt that in the Apollo I had witnessed the highest triumph of the chisel. This Apollo was found among the ruins of Antium, and brought to Rome in the sixteenth century. The Laocoon was taken from the ruins of the palace of the Emperor Titus. It was discovered in 1506 by a poor man, and so highly was this wonder of art esteemed that the Pope conferred upon him a large share of the revenues of one of the city gates as his reward. All, or nearly all, of the marbles in this museum were recovered in this way, and most of them exhibit the highest evidences of genius. Excavations are continually going on-sometimes by private persons and sometimes on Government account, and hardly a day passes but some new and long-lost gem of art is brought to light. Old Rome lies buried under the modern surface of the earth some sixteen or eighteen feet, and in many places parts of the city are built above the surface of the old. This proceeds from the drift and accumulation of the soil that has been going on for nearly ten centuries, and it very often happens that in excavating for a foundation of a house, some antique boudoir of lady fair, with even her gems, rings, and armlets preserved, or library of learned senator, is broken suddenly into and the graceful marbles extracted. The French have unburied many gems of art since they have been here: among their worthiest efforts are unearthing the beautiful columns in the Forum Trajan, and clearing the floor of the Coliseum of its immense deposits of earth and rubbish. The statues and busts are always found embedded in the earth, lying in various positions as they fell-some broken and some unimpaired. They are always swathed with a rather compact coating of clay, which windingsheet is formed of the dampness of the stone, making the earth plastic in its curves. When From St. Peter's I turned into the adjoining marbles are thus discovered they belong (as do palace of the Vatican, which contains a famous all hidden treasures) to the Government, and museum of marbles and paintings. Here I saw deportation is forbidden by heavy penalties. the celebrated School of Athens, by Raphael, and This is a wise arrangement on the part of Rome. the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo. The Her stock-in-trade is religion and treasures in most beautiful specimens of art were lavished the arts, and if either were reduced, the pilgrims on wall and ceiling. There are more than three who now support her would decrease, and she thousand specimens of sculpture among the would, in a few years, be little better than the finest of which is the Laocöon and Apollo Bel-waste which now spreads over the grave of videre. It is difficult to describe the effect pro- Athens. duced by the Apollo. The figure is so delicately beautiful, yet so vigorous; so calmly dignified, yet so full of action, that life is infused into it, and you can fancy that you hear it breathe. It is full of majesty, without being theatrical, as if Apollo had sought refuge in the marble himself till the predicted time should come when the old gods and goddesses themselves should resume their sway, and, breaking away from their several prisons, once more ride in position as that of an archer who has just let fly a shaft; and by looking at the noble sportsman's face you can fairly travel with the arrow, and rest with his eye upon the stricken game. The mantle that falls from his right arm is so airy Rome has one plague-its dirt, and teeming liliputian population which give you no rest, day nor night. My guide pointed out the site of the column on which Nero fiddled after he had set the city on fire; but I rejected the fable. The real history of the affair must be that Nero burned the city as a sanitary measure to destroy the dirt and minute scourges of the city, and the story of his fiddling is a mere myth. From St. Peter's I paid a visit to several other churches, the most renowned of which is the basilisk of St. John of Lateran, celebrated for its Lateran councils, and also for its scalasanta, or holy stairs: these are twenty-eight marble steps, said to be the identical ones that belonged to the staircase in Pilate's house, down which Christ descended after He had been adjudged to death. At the top of them is a chapel containing a picture of our Saviour, as He appeared at the age of twelve-said to be painted by St. Luke, and to be a faithful likeness in lineament and expression.* Crowds of devotees visit here, and always ascend the stair-like this, when skilfully managed and amicably case on their knees; and so devoutly has this duty been performed that the marble is protected from further wear by an outer covering of boards, which has been several times renewed. The other relics of this church are a slab of porphyry, on which the soldiers cast lots for the raiment of our Saviour; a column of the temple at Jerusalem, said to have been split when the vail of the temple was rent in twain; and a miraculous altar-table. The quality of the latter is that if the priest who administers the Sacrament should be sceptical of the real presence of the body of the Saviour, the consecrated wafer would drop from his hands and sink through the marble-slab of the altar, leaving a hole through which it passed. The magnificence of St. John's will bear description either with that of Santa Maria Maggiore San Paulo, or any other basiliscas of the same stamp. The church of the Capuchins contains Guido's celebrated picture of the archangel, and the church is likewise interesting for its vaulted cemetery beneath, in which lie ranged the skulls and skeletons of the brotherhood, labelled and named according to the order of their death. "This was the skull of my companion," said the stout father who showed us through, picking a skull from the heap and tapping it on the forehead. There was an inscription on the crown, to say that its owner had died in 1839. There are four apartments in the cemetery, and the centre of each is devoted to a plot of earth brought from the sacred city of Jerusalem, and divided into graves. As the old padre who was with us pointed with his key to the spot which he said would be his when he died, I thought I could discover a gleam of calm contentment in his eye. The spot to which he pointed is the oldest grave in the cemetery, and it is the custom, when a brother dies, to inter him here and place the remains of the previous occupants on the shelves. If, however, the one who is thus unearthed be a friar of distinction, his skeleton may perhaps be riveted together and stand up grinning, with a malicious expression at the stranger, looking more hideous from having a cowl and hood about it, along with other grim and awful forms which at intervals keep guard over the heaps of bones. I was delighted with the palaces of the Vatican and Quiriual belonging to his Holiness the Pope, and the palaces Barbarini, Colonna, Corsini, Farnese, Rospigliosi, and Spada; with *On the altar at the head of the sacred stairs is inscribed: "There is no place in the whole world more sacred than this." these may be classed the villas Albani and Boyese, which are suburban palaces beyond the walls. All these sumptuous palaces are filled with the most rare and costly works of art, shown willingly; for it tempts the world to visit Rome. The exhibition of wealth in any shape wields the same description of control over the mass of minds, and in tame countries represented, often becomes a substitute for a large standing-army. The possession of these palaces and grand collections of pictures does not always argue wealth, for the owners of some of them which would be in themselves worth a large fortune in many parts of Europe, are really in narrow circumstances; and, were it not for their pride, would be glad themselves to receive the gratuities given to their attendants. This is owing to the craving which at one part of their lives leads them into vast purchases of printings, and to the disability which in another prevents their selling them again except in Rome. It is astonishing to see the enormous wealth consumed here in the shape of mosaic tables, pictures, statuary, and carving. The owner of one of these palaces might say, with truth: "There in that corner, in the shape of a mosaic table, is the best portion of the life of one great genius, which I purchased for 2,000 scudi. Upon that canvas is six years' occupation of one of the most renowned painters of the age; and in that chamber, ranged round, is a series of tableaux that represent the entire existence of one of the best colourists who ever lived." These are boasts-proud ones; but they mark a condition of affairs which is not the proudest boast of a state. The Quirinal palace of his Holiness is a very superb residence. It is well ornamented with large paintings of scripture subjects, and the general tint of the apartments is crimson, the Papal colour prevailing on the walls as well as in the hangings. I entered one grand apartment, however, the centrepiece of which was a fine fresco of Jupiter, and some of his heathen satellites. Another room, lined also with crimson, and leading out into the garden, was occupied with a billiard-table. In the Palace Rospigliosi, I saw the original of Guido's celebrated picture of Aurora, and in the Spada gallery I was shown the colossal statue of Pompey, before which Brutus and Cassius struck Cæsar, and at the base of which he fell. I had a delightful drive through the ghetto, or Jews' quarter of the town, near the hill where St. Peter was crucified, then to the famous tomb of Cæcilia Metella, and finally to the great remains of the baths of Caracalla. The Jew's quarter is inconceivably dirty, and the persons of the Hebrews who inhabit it are in keeping with it. Unhappy as is their condition, living amid a population and government who detest them, there are 8,000 of them in the city proving their title to be considered a remarkable people, by flourishing in the bonds of oppression. The baths of Caracalla are next to the Coliseum, the most stupendous remains of ancient |