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a Cupid bearing a torch. Round the chariot of the Sun dance the Hours, in the shape of nymphs, seven in number. Their forms are gross and heavy, their legs large, and their arms brawny, forming an odd personification of those winged, aerial spirits, who are supposed to tread with light footsteps, and flit by, almost unperceived. They are clad in costumes of different colours, in which the favourite blue of the artist predominates. The skies and clouds present a tolerable picture of the mingled hues and reflected blushes of morning. In front of the steeds is Aurora herself, the precursor and guide of Phabus. She is represented in the form of a beautiful female, flying through the heavens and lighting up the orient with her smiles. It is, on the whole, a pretty picture, defective as parts of it appear in detail.

We lounged an hour or two in the apartments of the palace. In the vestibule is a bronze horse, found in the baths of Constantine. The Death of Sampson, by Lodovico Caracci, is one of the largest and most meritorious pictures in the collection. Its design is extremely happy. The giant is represented in the midst of the ruins he has created, surrounded by an agitated and terrified multitude, affording a scope

for the exhibition of various attitudes and passions. One of the rooms contains a painting of the Garden of Eden, which on canvass is very far from being a paradise. The Triumph of David, by Domenichino, is an admirable picture. Two females are playing upon musical instruments, and dancing in the procession. The King of Israel is represented in the character of a comely youth, with sunny locks playing about his shoulders. Saul appears in a giant form, with a stern, sullen, and jealous countenance. We were much pleased with a basaltic bust of Scipio Africanus, found at Liternum or Patria, the place of his exile, between Gaeta and Cuma. It is the most striking head I have seen at Rome. The venerable warrior and patriot is represented as perfectly bald, and exbibiting a scar on his right brow. His face is strongly marked with the lines of thought. The stone is of a greenish complexion, and the breast of the bust appears to be of bronze.


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June, 1826.

On the Quirinal Hill, stands the tower on which Nero is said to have sat and fiddled, while Rome was in flames. Vague and improbable as the tradition is, we sought permission to enter, and follow the footsteps of the tyrant to the summit, but were repulsed at the door. The base of the monument is occupied as a nunnery, and of course there is no admission to the cells of the holy sisterhood.

Foiled in this attempt, we made an excursion to the Villa Albani, beyond the Fountain of Termine,* and near the Porta Pia, or Gate of Pius IV. which is one of the most magnificent at Rome. The villa commands an enchanting view of Tivoli and the Alban Mount. Its grounds and gardens are extensive, sloping gently towards the Campagna, and forming one of the most delightful situations in the suburbs of the city. Yet with all these natural advantages, Albani exhibits little taste and few attractions. Its walks are laid out in the most formal manner ; its squares and alleys are all right-angled; its trees are despoiled of their native charms; and its fountains resemble the locks of a canal.

Within the enclosure are three edifices, designed merely as lodges, galleries, and places of occasional resort for amusement. The principal edifice is lofty, light, and airy, with a beautiful porch extending the whole length in front, fifteen or twenty feet in depth, supported by a long range of pillars. Its roof is arched, and the pavement is a splendid mosaic, composed of black and white marble. This portico is worth more than all the rest of the building, on which immense sums of money have been squandered. Along the front are semicircular recesses, forming the entrances to the stair-ways, and ornamented with statues, busts, and hermes. With a few exceptions it is a poor lot of sculpture. Among the better pieces, is a marble medallion of Antinous, in alto-relievo. The walls of the gallery are encrusted with precious materials, but do not display much taste. One of the frescos was done by Mengs. The image of Apollo is frightful.

* TH

is one of finest works of the kind in the city. Its embellisbments are peculiarly appropriate, consisting of a statue of Moses bringing water from the rock, and a bass-relief, representing Aaron leading the Israelites to slake their thirst at the fountain.

This lodge belongs to a cardinal, and at some of its decorations we were not a little astonished. Hundreds of miniature pictures, in tawdry gilt frames, are suspended from the walls, like the votive offerings in a chapel. But these puerile embellishments are not the most exceptionable. There is a Venus seated in an indecent manner, imperfectly draped, with a Cupid endeavouring to remove the veil, while she half resists the voluptuous effort. It is the most licentious picture, which has met my observation in any of the public galleries of Italy, and forms a strange ornament for a cardinal's pavilion. In the rooms below are some fine specimens of alabaster, and a beautiful white basin, ten feet in diameter, sculptured with the labours of Hercules. It was found in Adrian's Villa. The same apartinent contains several Caryatides and Canephoræ, or Roman females who bore baskets on their heads filled with articles for the sacrifice. They were disinterred on the Appian Way, and are supposed to be of Grecian origin.

Opposite the principal lodge, is another pavilion, with a circular porch in front, crowded with indifferent statues. One of them

represents the dwarf and fabulist Æsop, who is not here the monstrous, deformed lump, which the Phrygian philosopher is supposed to have been. Among the group is a Sappho, with whom no one would be likely to fall in love; a bust which has been christened Hannibal, and another, Amilcar his father. The collection at the Villa Albani is much more interesting to the professed artist and antiquary, than to an ordinary visitant.

At evening we made an excursion across the Milvian Bridge, and thence down the right bank of the Tiber, along the foot of Monte Mario, to the Porta-Angelica, near the Vatican-a circuit of four or five miles, affording many fine views of the hills, the river, the walls, and the distant towers of the city. For the greater part of the way, the path pursues the windings of the Tiber, the borders of which are rural and flowery. In the summer months this is the fashionable drive with the Romans. We met half a dozen cardinals, who had deserted their coaches, and were loitering along the shady road.

A severe thunder-storm confined us to our chambers for a considerable part of the following day. I have observed, that in Italy showers generally come in the morning, instead of the afternoon, as with us. When it does rain here, it rains in good earnest, and sufficient water descends in an hour, to keep the earth moist for weeks. There is no

cloudy, drizzling weather, such as is common in the north of France, Great-Britain, and the United States, exposed as all these countries are to evaporations from the wide surface of the Atlantic.

At noon the skies cleared, and we visited the Studio of Trentanove. He was closcted with an English lady, who was sitting for her bust; but he requested us to make ourselves at home in his study, if it could afford any amusement. We found it rich in statues, and exquisite specimens of sculpture. Copies of the Venus de Medicis and the Apollino are worthy of the original in the Gallery at Florence. They were blocked out at Carrara, and have received the finishing touches of Trentanove himself. He has caught the expression with great accuracy, and the workmanship is admirable. Could these statues be buried for a time, till their snowy limbs had contracted the rust of antiquity, they might very casily be taken for Grecian models. I was delighted with a group of two children ; one with a bird, and the other with its nest. The former is laughing, and the latter in tears. In attitude and expression, both are true to nature. It is a beautiful production, as well in design as in execution, and would form a fine decoration for a drawing-room. We here found a gallery, composed of the busts of our countrymen, from Washington and Franklin down to some of our personal acquaintances, whose faces were instantly recognized. Ainong the other articles, are the Loves sleeping; a fine head of Napoleon ; a head of Madame Catalani, for whom the three Graces are now in hand; and a splendid bust of Mrs. Childers, an English lady, with whom the spectator is much more likely to fall in love, than with the Pope's figure of Justice in St. Peter's. In bis general style, Trentanove adheres to the instructions of bis great inaster, Canova, though not so rigidly as to copy his faults. He is an artist of discriminating mind and correct taste, with all the advantages which the galleries and schools of Italy can afford. In my opinion the day is not distant, if it has not already arrived, when the productions of his chisel will rival those of his illustrious predecessor. He possesses both the genius and industry, to reach the highest eminence in his profession.

In the afternoon I visited the Palazzo Borghese, the largest and one of the most magnificent palaces in Rome. It is situated on the left bank of the Tiber, above the bridge of St. Angelo. The porticos in the rear overhang and look out upon the river. A lofty and noble front ranges along the street. The apartments are both numerous and spacious. Some of them are extremely rich in decorations. The vaulted ceilings are highly gilt. Sheets of mirrors are half-covered with Cupids and wreaths of flowers. But a choice collection of

paintings furnishes the strongest attraction. The walls of ten rooms are entirely covered with some of the rarest pictures of the first artists. My remarks will be restricted to a very few of the number, though a hundred are worthy of particular notice. Perhaps the most inimitable in the collection, are the Descent from the Cross, and a portrait of Cæsar Borgia, both by Raphael. The former is a sublime effort, worthy of the subject and the fame of its author. In the latter, the head and hand are perfect. The ambitious Pontiff was taken when young, in a black costume, with a cardinal's bat. At a small head of the Saviour, and a Madonna, by Carlo Dolci, I gazed for half an hour, and even then my eyes were not satisfied with contemplating such exquisite productions. Diana shooting is one of Domenichino's most poetical and happy conceptions, expressed in his best manner. No artist excels him in originality of thought, and few in finish and colouring. Lot and his Daughters, by Gherado del Notti, are in the peculiar style of that artist, characterized by the depth of light and shade. He appears to have painted all his pieces in the night, by the aid of a lamp. A picture of Paul Veronese represents St. Anthony preaching to the fishes. In this gallery are Titian's three Graces; his sacred and profane Love ; and the woman taken in adultery. Several oval pictures, by Albano, are much admired. Among the minor pieces, are landscapes by Potter, who is famous for his cattle ; and some of Teniers' matchless comic scenes. In a word, it would be difficult to find a gallery, which contains a greater variety, or a more select assortment of paintings. Yet there is no tenant in the palace to enjoy them. Paulina, the sister of Napoleon, has gone to the tomb, and Prince Borghese, her husband, is a wanderer in France and England, leaving his Italian villas and palaces behind.

After dinner we made an excursion to Mons Sacer, whither the plebeian multitude retreated in rebellion, and gave origin to the office of Tril ne. It is several miles from Rome, on the right bank of the Anio, in the depth of the Campagna.

Campagna. The only person we saw, after leaving the gates of the city, was an old man clad in goat-skins, with the hairy side out. He looked himself like one of the beasts of his charge, bearing a striking similitude to Pan and the fabled Satyrs. He has a rude hut by the margin of the headlong stream, and appears to live entirely alone. The hill, so renowned in history, is a green swell of moderate elevation, rising like a tumulus on the waste. We here witnessed one of the most splendid sunsets I ever beheld, transcending the boldest and richest tints of the pencil. The west was in a blaze of glory, and imparted to the clouds and to the distant mountains the most gorgeous hues of crimson, purple, and gold.

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