As the plan of this work does not admit of our giving any thing like a history of the various trials and fortunes of Rome; we must confine ourselves, almost entirely, to a few particulars relative to its origin, summit of glory and empire, its decay, and ultimate ruin.

There is no unquestionable narrative of facts, on which any writer can build the primitive history of this vast city and empire; but in its place we have a mass of popular traditions and fabulous records. On the taking of Troy, Æneas, a prince of that city, quitted his native land, and after a long period, spent in encountering a variety of vicissitudes, he arrived on the coast of Italy, was received with hospitality by the King of Latium, whose name was Latinus, and afterwards obtained his throne, from the circumstance of having married his daughter.

Æneas after this built the city of Lavinium, and, thirty years after, his son founded that of Alba Longa, which then became the capital of Latium. Three hundred years after, Romulus founded Rome.

Though Livy has given a very circumstantial account of the origin of this city, sufficient data have been afforded, since his history was written, to justify our doubting many of his statements. The first author in modern times, that led Europe to these doubts, was, we believe, Dr. Taylor; who, in a work written about sixty years ago, entitled Elements of Civil Law, has the following passage:—“It was not peculiar to this people, to have the dawn of their history wrapped up in fable and mythology, or set in with something that looked like marvellous and preternatural. There is scarce a nation, that we are acquainted with, but has this foible in a greater or lesser degree, and almost pleads a right to be indulged in it. “Datur hÆc venia antiquitati, ut miscendo humana divinis primordia urbium augustiora faciat.” (Liv. I. PrÆf.) Indeed the Romans themselves had some suspicion of their own history. They generally dated their periods not AB U. C. but began their Æra from their consuls, by whom they always reckoned. The records of Rome were burned at the irruption of the Gauls: they had nothing for it but tradition before that period. Nor was there an author extant of that age, or near it, at the time that Livy compiled his history. Diocles Peparethius (the father of Roman history, since Fabius Pictor, the first historian that Rome produced, and all his followers, copied him implicitly) was a writer of no very great credit. The birth and education of Romulus, is the exact counter-part of that of another founder of a great empire; and Romulus, I am satisfied, could not resemble more his brother Remus, than his brother Cyrus. The expedient of Tarquin’s conveying advice to his son, by striking off the heads of flowers, is given with the minutest difference, by Aristotle to Periander of Corinth, and by Herodotus to Thrasybulus. Which similarity is very ill accounted for by Camerarius. This was one of those ambulatory stories which (Plutarch in his Greek and Roman Parallels will furnish us with many such) seem confined to no one age, race, or country; but have been adopted in their turn, at several periods of time, and by several very different people, and are perhaps, at least some of them, true of none. And, lastly, one would imagine, that the history of the seven kings, which has such an air of romance in it, was made on purpose for Florus to be ingenious upon in his recapitulation of the regal state of Rome.”

The truth of this subject we leave to abler hands; proceeding at once to the manner in which the ceremonies are recorded to have been adopted at the first laying down the foundations of the city. Romulus, having sent for some of the Tuscans, to instruct him in the ceremonies that ought to be observed in laying the foundations, and they having instructed him according to his desire, his work began in the following manner:—First, he dug a trench, and threw into it the first-fruits of all things, either good by custom, or necessary by nature; and every man taking a small turf of earth of the country from which he came, they all cast them in promiscuously together. Making their trench their centre, they described the city in a circle round it. Then the founder fitted to a plough a brazen plough-share; and yoking together a bull and a cow, drew a deep line or furrow round the bounds; those that followed after, taking care that the clods fell inwards towards the city. They built the wall upon this line, which they called Pomoerium, from pone moenia. Though the phrase of Pomoerium proferre be commonly used in authors, to signify the enlarging of the city, it is, nevertheless, certain that the city might be enlarged without that ceremony. For Tacitus and Gellius declare no person to have had a right of extending the Pomoerium, but such a one as had taken away some part of an enemy’s country in war; whereby, it is manifest, that several great men, who never obtained the honour, increased the buildings with considerable additions. It is remarkable that the same ceremony with which the foundations of their cities were first laid, they used, too, in destroying and rasing places taken from the enemy; which we find was begun by the chief commander’s turning up some of the walls with a plough.

We do not, as we have before stated, propose to give even a slight history of this celebrated city. It is sufficient for our purpose to state, that it was first governed by kings, and then by consuls, up to the time when the Gauls took the city, under their commander Brennus. This was the first calamity that Rome experienced at the hands of an enemy; and this occurred in the three hundred and sixty-fifth year after its foundation.

The city of Veii had just surrendered to Camillus after a ten years’ siege, when the Gauls made an irruption into Italy, and had begun to besiege Clusium, a Tuscan city; at which time a deputation arrived at Rome with an entreaty from the Clusians, that the Romans would interfere in their behalf, through the medium of ambassadors. This request was immediately complied with; and three of the Fabii, persons of the highest rank, were despatched to the Gallic camp. The Gauls, out of respect to the name of Rome, received these ambassadors with all imaginable civility; but they could not be induced to raise the siege. Upon this, the ambassadors going into the town, and encouraging the Clusians to a sally, one of them was seen personally engaged in the action. This, being contrary to the generally received law of nations, was resented in so high a manner by the enemy, that, breaking up from before Clusium, their whole army marched directly against Rome. At about eleven miles from the city, they met with the Roman army, commanded by the military tribunes; who, engaging without any order or discipline, received an entire defeat. Upon the arrival of this ill news at Rome, the greatest part of the inhabitants immediately fled. Those that resolved to stay, however, fortified themselves in the Capitol. The Gauls soon appeared at the city gates; and, destroying all with fire and sword, carried on the siege of the Capitol with all imaginable fury. At last, resolving on a general assault, they were discovered by the cackling of geese; and as many as had climbed the ramparts were driven down by Manlius; when Camillus, setting upon them in the rear with twenty thousand men he had got together about the country, gave them a total overthrow.

The city, however, had been set on fire by the barbarians, and so entirely demolished, that, upon the return of the people, they resolved upon abandoning the ruins, and seeking a more eligible abode in the recently conquered city of Veii, a town already built and well provided with all things. But this being opposed by Camillus, they set to work with such extraordinary diligence, that the vacant space of the old city was quickly covered with new buildings, and the whole finished within the short space of one year. The Romans, however, on this occasion, were in too great a hurry to think of either order or regularity. The city was, therefore, rebuilt without any reference to order; no care being taken to form the streets in straight lines.

In this conflagration, all the public records were burned; but there is no reason to believe, that it was accompanied by any losses, which a lover of the arts should mourn for. As many writers have remarked, the Romans were not naturally a people of taste. They never excelled in the fine arts; and even their own writers invariably allow, that they were indebted for every thing that was elegant in the arts to the people of Greece150.

It is possible that, during the three hundred and fifty years, which elapsed from the Gallic invasion till the reign of Augustus, many magnificent buildings may have been erected; but we have no evidence that such was the case; and the few facts, which we are enabled to glean from the pages of ancient writers, are scarcely favourable to the supposition. The commencement of the age of Roman luxury is generally dated from the year 146 B. C., when the fall of Carthage and of Corinth elevated the power of the republic to a conspicuous height. Yet, more than fifty years afterwards, no marble columns had been introduced into any public buildings; and the example of using them as decorations of private houses was set by the orator Crassus, in the beginning of the first century before the Christian era.

The architectural splendour of the city must be dated from the age of Augustus. “I found it of brick,” he was accustomed to say; “I shall leave it of marble.” Nor was he content with his own labours; at his instigation many private individuals contributed to the embellishment of the capital. The Pantheon, one of the noblest structures of Rome, and several others, were the works of his chief minister, Agrippa.

Tiberius and Caligula betrayed no wish to imitate their predecessor; but several works of utility and magnitude were completed under Claudius. Then came, however, the emperor Nero; with whose reign is associated that memorable conflagration, which malice attributed to the Christians, and which raged beyond all example of former ages. This fire left, of the fourteen regions into which Augustus had divided the city, only four parts untouched. It was, therefore, fatal to many of the most venerable fanes and trophies of the earlier ages. This conflagration lasted from six to nine days. In the time of Titus, too, another fire ravaged the city for three days and nights; and in that of Trajan, another conflagration consumed part of the Forum, and the Golden House of Nero; after which few remains of the ancient city were left; the rest being, to use the language of Tacitus, “scanty relics, lacerated and half-burned.”

The city, nevertheless, soon rose with fresh grandeur and beauty from its ashes. Trajan performed his part; and Hadrian followed with redoubled assiduity. They were followed by the Antonines; and so effective was the example they set, that most of the more opulent senators of Rome deemed it an honour, and almost an obligation, to contribute to the glory and external splendour of their native city. These monuments of architecture were adorned with the finest and most beautiful productions of sculpture and painting. Every quarter of Rome was filled with temples, theatres, amphitheatres, porticoes, triumphal arches, and aqueducts; with baths, and other buildings, conducive to the health and pleasure, not of the noble citizens only, but of the meanest.

The principal conquests of the Romans, were achieved under the republic; and the emperors, for the most part, were satisfied with preserving those dominions which had been acquired by the policy of the senate, the active emulation of the senators, and the martial enthusiasm of the people. The seven first centuries were filled with a rapid succession of triumphs; but it was for Augustus, to relinquish the ambitious design of subduing the whole earth, and to introduce moderation into the public councils. He bequeathed a valuable legacy to his successors, the advice of confining the empire within those limits which nature seemed to have placed as its permanent bulwarks and boundaries:—on the west the Atlantic ocean; the Rhine and Danube on the north; the Euphrates on the east; and towards the south the deserts of Africa and Arabia.

The first exception to this policy was the conquest of Britain; the second the conquests of Trajan. It was, however, revived by Hadrian; nearly the first measure of whose reign was the resignation of all that emperor’s eastern conquests.

The Roman empire, in the time of the Antonines, was about two thousand miles in breadth, from the wall of Antoninus and the northern limits of Dacia, to Mount Atlas and the tropic of Cancer. It extended, in length, more than three thousand miles, from the Western Ocean to the Euphrates; it was situated in the finest part of the temperate zone, between the twenty-fourth and fifty-sixth degrees of northern latitude; and it was supposed to contain above sixteen hundred thousand square miles, for the most part of fertile and well cultivated land.

Pius studied the defence of the empire rather than the enlargement of it—a line of policy, which rendered him more serviceable to the commonwealth than the greatest conqueror. Marcus and Lucius (Antonini) made the first division of the empire. At length it was put up to public sale and sold to the highest bidder. It was afterwards arrested in its ruin by Alexander Severus. The fortunes of the empire, after the progress of several successive tyrants, was again restored by the courage, conduct, and extraordinary virtues of Claudius the Second; to whom has been attributed, with every probability of truth, the courage of Trajan, the moderation of Augustus, and the piety of Antoninus.

Then followed Aurelian, Tacitus, and Probus; and Rome felt redeemed from the ruin that awaited her: but Constantine laid the inevitable groundwork of its destruction, by removing the imperial throne to Byzantium. Rome became an easy prey to her barbarian enemies; by whom she was several times sacked, pillaged, and partially burned. The most powerful of these enemies was Alaric:—the people he had to conquer and take advantage of, are thus described by Ammianus Marcellinus:—“Their long robes of silk purple float in the wind, and as they are agitated, by art or accident, they occasionally discover the under-garments, the rich tunics, embroidered with the figures of various animals. Followed by a train of fifty servants, and tearing up the pavement, they move along the street with the same impetuous speed, as if they had travelled with post-horses; and the example of the senators is boldly imitated by the matrons and ladies, whose covered-carriages are continually driving round the immense space of the city and suburbs. Whenever these persons of high distinction condescend to visit the public baths, they assume, on their entrance, a tone of loud and insolent command, and appropriate to their own use the conveniences which were designed for the Roman people. As soon as they have indulged themselves in the refreshments of the bath, they resume their rings, and the other ensigns of their dignity; select from their private wardrobe of the finest linen, such as might suffice for a dozen persons, the garments the most agreeable to their fancy, and maintain till their departure the same haughty demeanour, which, perhaps, might have been excused in the great Marcellus, after the conquest of Syracuse.

“Sometimes, indeed, these heroes undertake more arduous achievements; they visit their estates in Italy, and procure themselves, by the toil of servile hands, the amusements of the chase. If at any time, but more especially on a hot day, they have courage to sail in their painted galleys, from the Lucrine Lake to their elegant villas on the sea-coast of Puteoli and Cajeta, they compare their own expeditions to the marches of CÆsar and Alexander. Yet, should a fly presume to settle on the silken folds of their gilded umbrellas; should a sun-beam penetrate through some unregarded and imperceptible chink they deplore their intolerable hardships, and lament, in affected language, that they were not born in the land of the Cimmerians, the regions of eternal darkness.”

Such was the character of the nobles of Rome at the period in which their city was taken possession of by Alaric. As soon as the barbarian had got possession of the Roman port, he summoned the city to surrender at discretion; and his demands were enforced by the positive declaration, that a refusal, or even a delay, should be instantly followed by the destruction of the magazines, on which the life of the Roman people depended. The clamours of that people, and the terror of famine, subdued the pride of the senate. They listened without reluctance to the proposing of a new emperor on the throne of Honorius; and the suffrage of the Gothic conqueror bestowed the purple on Attalus, the prÆfect of the city. Attalus was created emperor by the Goths and Romans; he was, however, soon degraded by Alaric, and Rome subjected to a general sack. The conqueror no longer dissembled his appetite for plunder. The trembling senate, without any hopes of relief, prepared, by a desperate resistance, to delay the ruin of their country. But they were unable to guard against the secret conspiracy of their slaves and domestics. At the hour of midnight, the Salarian gate was opened, and the inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound of the Gothic trumpet. Eleven hundred and sixty-three years after the foundation of Rome, the imperial city, which had subdued and civilised so considerable a part of mankind, was delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Scythia and Germany. A cruel slaughter was made of the Romans; the streets of the city were filled with dead bodies, which, during the consternation, remained unburied. The despair of the inhabitants was sometimes converted into fury; and whenever the barbarians were provoked by opposition, they extended the promiscuous massacre to the feeble, the innocent, and the helpless. The private revenge of 40,000 slaves was exercised without pity or remorse; and the ignominious lashes, which they had formerly received, were washed away in the blood of the guilty, or obnoxious families. The matrons and virgins of Rome were exposed to injuries more dreadful, in the apprehension of chastity, than death itself.

When the portable riches had been seized, the palaces were rudely stripped of their splendid and costly furniture; the side-boards of massy plate, and the variegated wardrobes of silk and purple, were irregularly piled in the wagons, that always followed the march of a Gothic army. The most exquisite works of art were roughly handled, or wantonly destroyed; many a statue was melted for the sake of the precious materials; and many a vase, in the division of the spoil, was shivered into fragments by the stroke of the battle-axe. The sack lasted six days.

The edifices, too, of Rome received no small injury from the violence of the Goths; but those injuries appear to have been somewhat exaggerated. At their entrance they fired a multitude of houses; and the ruins of the palace of Sallust remained, in the age of Justinian, a stately monument of the Gothic conflagration. Procopius confines the fire to one peculiar quarter; but adds, that the Goths ravaged the whole city. Cassiodorus says, that many of the “wonders of Rome,” were burned; and Olympiodorus speaks of the infinite quantity of wealth, which Alaric carried away. We collect, also, how great the disaster was, when he tells us, that, on the retreat of the Goths, 14,000 returned in one day.

The injury done by Genseric (A. D. 455), is said to have been not so great as that, perpetrated by the Goths; yet most writers record that the Vandals and Moors emptied Rome of most of her wealth. They revenged the injuries of Carthage. The pillage lasted fourteen days and nights; and all that yet remained of public or private wealth, of sacred or profane treasure, were transported to the vessels of Genseric. Among the spoils, the splendid relics of two temples, or rather of two religions, exhibited the remarkable example of the vicissitude of human things. Since the abolition of Paganism, the capital had been violated and abandoned; yet the statues of the gods and heroes were still respected, and the curious roof of gilt bronze was reserved for the rapacious hands of Genseric. The holy instruments of the Jewish worship had been ostentatiously displayed to the Roman people, in the triumph of Titus. They were afterwards deposited in the temple of Peace; and, at the end of four hundred years, the spoils of Jerusalem were transferred to Carthage, by a barbarian who derived his origin from the shores of the Baltic. It was difficult either to escape or to satisfy the avarice of a conqueror, who possessed leisure to collect, and ships to transport, the wealth of the capital. The imperial ornaments of the palace, the magnificent furniture and wardrobe, the sideboards of massy plate, were accumulated with disorderly rapine; the gold and silver amounted to several thousand talents; yet even the brass and copper were laboriously removed. The empress was rudely stripped of her jewels, and, with her two daughters, the only surviving remains of the great Theodosius, was compelled, as a captive, to follow the haughty Vandal; who immediately hoisted sail, and returned, with a prosperous navigation, to the port of Carthage. Many thousand Romans of both sexes, chosen for some useful or agreeable qualifications, reluctantly embarked on board the fleet of Genseric; and their distress was aggravated by the unfeeling barbarian, who, in the division of the booty, separated the wives from their husbands, and the children from their parents.

The consequences of this Vandal invasion, to the public and private buildings, are thus regarded by the same authority (Gibbon):—“The spectator, who casts a mournful view over the ruins of ancient Rome, is tempted to accuse the memory of the Goths and Vandals, for the mischief which they had neither the leisure, nor power, nor perhaps the inclination, to perpetrate. The tempests of war might strike some lofty turrets to the ground; but the destruction which undermined the foundations of those massy fabrics, was prosecuted, slowly and silently, during a period of ten centuries. The decay of the city had gradually impaired the value of the public works. The circus and theatres might still excite, but they seldom gratified, the desires of the people; the temples, which had escaped the zeal of the Christians, were no longer inhabited, either by gods or men; the diminished crowds of the Romans were lost in the immense space of their baths and porticoes; and the stately libraries and halls of justice became useless to an indolent generation, whose repose was seldom disturbed, either by study or business. The monuments of consular or imperial greatness were no longer revered as the immortal glory of the capital; they were only esteemed as an inexhaustible mine of materials, cheaper and more convenient than the distant quarry. Specious petitions were addressed to the easy magistrates of Rome, which stated the want of bricks or stones for some necessary service; the fairest forms of architecture were rudely defaced for the sake of some paltry or pretended repairs; and the degenerate Romans, who converted the spoil to their own emolument, demolished, with sacrilegious hands, the labours of their ancestors.”

In 472 the city was sacked by Ricimer, who enjoyed power under cover of the name of the Emperor Libius Severus. His victorious troops, breaking down every barrier, rushed with irresistible violence into the heart of the city, and Rome was subverted. The unfortunate emperor (Anthemius) was dragged from his concealment, and inhumanly massacred by the command of Ricimer his son-in-law; who thus added a third, or perhaps a fourth, emperor to the number of his victims. The soldiers, who united the rage of factious citizens with the savage manners of barbarians, were indulged, without control, in the licence of rapine and murder; the crowd of slaves and plebeians, who were unconcerned in the event, could only gain by the indiscriminate pillage; and the face of the city exhibited the strange contrast of stern cruelty and dissolute intemperance. The sack of Rome by Ricimer is generally overlooked by the apologists of the early invaders; but it must not be forgotten, that they were indulged in the plunder of all but two regions of the city.

To Vitiges (about A. D. 540) must be ascribed the destruction of the aqueducts, which rendered the thermÆ useless; and as these appear never to have been frequented afterwards, their dilapidation must be partially, but only partially, ascribed to the Goths.

Vitiges burned every thing without the walls, and commenced the desolation of the Campagna.

The last emperor of Rome was Augustulus. Odoacer, king of the Heruli, entered Italy with a vast multitude of barbarians, and having ravaged it, at length approached Rome itself. The city made no resistance; he therefore deposed Augustulus, and took the dignity of empire on himself. From this period the Romans lost all command in Italy.

A. D. 479. Five centuries elapsed from the age of Trajan and the Antonines, to the total extinction of the Roman empire in the west. At that unhappy period, the Saxons fiercely struggled with the natives for the possession of Britain. Gaul and Spain were divided between the powerful monarchies of the Franks and Visigoths; and the dependent kingdoms of the Suevi and Burgundians in Africa were exposed to the cruel persecution of the Vandals, and the savage insults of the Moors. Rome and Italy, as far as the banks of the Danube, were afflicted by an army of barbarian mercenaries, whose lawless tyranny was succeeded by the reign of Theodoric, the Ostrogoth. All the subjects of the empire, who, by the use of the Latin language, more particularly deserved the name and privileges of Romans, were oppressed by the disgrace and calamities of foreign conquest; and the victorious nations of Germany established a new system of manners and government in the western countries of Europe.

That Rome, however, did not always suffer from the Goths, is evident from a passage in one of the letters written by Cassiodorus, at one time minister to Theodoric:—“The care of the Roman city is a subject to which our thoughts are ever awake. For what is there which it behoves us to provide for, more worthy than the keeping up the repair of a city which, it is evident, contains the ornaments of our republic? therefore, let your illustrious highness know, that we have appointed a notable person, on account of its splendid CloacÆ, which are productive of so much astonishment to beholders, that they may well be said to surpass the wonders of other cities. There thou mayest see flowing rivers, inclosed, as it were, in hollow mountains. There thou mayest see the rapid waters navigated by vessels, not without some anxiety lest they should suffer shipwreck in the precipitate torrent. Hence, O matchless Rome! it may be inferred what greatness is in thee. For what city may dare to contend with thy lofty superstructures, when even thy lowest recesses can find no parallel?”

In 546, Rome was besieged by Totila the Goth. Having reduced, by force or treaty, the towns of inferior note in the midland provinces of Italy, Totila proceeded to besiege Rome. He took it December 17th of the same year. On the loss of the city, several persons,—some say five hundred,—took, refuge in the church of St. Peter. As soon as the daylight had displayed the victory of the Goths, their monarch visited the tomb of the prince of the apostles; but while he prayed at the altar, twenty-five soldiers and sixty citizens were put to the sword in the vestibule of the temple. The arch-deacon Pelagius stood before him with the gospels in his hand.—“O Lord, be merciful to your servant.” “Pelagius,” said Totila, with an insulting smile, “your pride now condescends to become a suppliant.” “I am a suppliant,” replied the prudent arch-deacon; “God has now made us your subjects, and, as your subjects, we are entitled to your clemency.” At his humble prayer, the lives of the Romans were spared; and the chastity of the maids and matrons was preserved inviolate from the passions of the hungry soldiers. But they were rewarded by the freedom of pillage. The houses of the senators were plentifully stored with gold and silver. The sons and daughters of Roman consuls tasted the misery which they had spurned or relieved, wandered in tattered garments through the streets of the city, and begged their bread before the gates of their hereditary mansions.

Against the city he appeared inexorable. One third of the walls was demolished by his command; fire and engines prepared to consume or subvert the most stately works of antiquity; and the world was astonished by the fatal decree, that Rome should be changed into “a pasture for cattle!” Belisarius, hearing of this, wrote him a letter, in which he observed, “That if Totila conquered, he ought, for his own sake, to preserve a city, which would then be his own by right of conquest, and would, at the same time, be the most beautiful city in his dominions. That it would be his own loss, if he destroyed it, and redound to his utter dishonour. For Rome, having been raised to so great a grandeur and majesty by the virtue and industry of former ages, posterity would consider him as a common enemy of mankind, in depriving them of an example and living representation of their ancestors.”

In consequence of this letter, Totila permitting his resolution to be diverted, signified to the ambassadors of Belisarius, that he should spare the city; and he stationed his army at the distance of one hundred and twenty furlongs, to observe the motions of the Roman general. With the remainder of his forces, he occupied, on the summit of Gargarus, one of the camps of Hannibal. The senators were dragged in his train, and afterwards confined in the fortresses of Campagna. The citizens, with their wives and children, were dispersed in exile; and, during forty days, Rome was abandoned to desolate and dreary solitude.

Totila is known to have destroyed a third part of the walls; and although he desisted from his meditated destruction of every monument, the extent of the injury inflicted by that conqueror may have been greater than is usually supposed. Procopius affirms, that he did burn “not a small portion of the city,” especially beyond the Tiber. One of the authors of the Chronicles records a fire, and the total abandonment of the city for more than forty days; and it must be mentioned, that there is no certain trace of the palace of the CÆsars having survived the irruption of Totila.

With Totila, the dilapidation of Rome by the barbarians is generally allowed to terminate.

The incursion of the Lombards in 578 and 593 completed the desolation of the Campagna; but did not affect the city itself.

Their king Luitprand (in 741) has been absolved from a supposed violence; but Astolphus (in 754) did assault the city violently; and whatever structures were near the walls must be supposed to have suffered from the attack.

From that period, Rome was not forcibly entered, that is not after a siege, until the fall of the Carlovingian race, when it was defended in the name of the emperor Lambert; and assaulted and taken by barbarians, commanded by Arnulphus, son of Carloman of Bavaria (A. D. 896).

It would exceed our limits were we to enter into a detail of the various causes, which were so long at work in effecting the ruin of the ancient monuments of Rome. If we except the Pantheon, the ancient remains have been so mutilated and destroyed, that even the name is, in many cases, doubtful. If a person, says Dr. Burton, expects to find at Rome such magnificent remains, as he has read of in Athens, he will be grievously disappointed. It is highly necessary to know, that whatever exists at Rome as a monument of ancient times has suffered from various calamities.

Gibbon states four causes of decay:—The injuries of time and nature; the hostile attacks of the barbarians and christians; the use and abuse of the materials; and the domestic quarrels of the Romans. There is great truth in Pope’s remark—

The injuries done by the Christian clergy to the architectural beauty of Rome, may be divided into two kinds: those, which were commanded, or connived at, by the Romans, for useful repairs or constructions; and those, which were encouraged or permitted from motives of fanaticism.

In the year 426, during the reign of Theodosius the Younger, there was a great destruction of the temples and fanes. “The destruction of the idolatrous fanes,” says an ecclesiastical writer, “was from the foundation; and so complete, that we cannot perceive a vestige of the former superstition. Their temples are so destroyed, that the appearance of their form no longer remains; nor can those of our times recognise the shape of their altars. As for their materials, they are dedicated to the fanes of the martyrs. Temples are not found among the wonders admired by Theodoric, except the half-stripped Capitoline fane is to be enumerated; and Procopius confines his notices to the Temple of Peace, and to the Temple of Janus. In the reign of Justinian, the temples were partly in private hands, and, therefore, not universally protected as public edifices. Pagan structures would naturally suffer more at the first triumph of Christianity than afterwards, when the rage and the merit of destruction must have diminished. It is not then rash to believe, that many temples were destroyed or despoiled, and the materials employed to the honour of the new religion. Du Barga asserts that there were marks on the obelisks of their having been all overthrown, with the exception of one, which was not dedicated to any of the false gods of antiquity.”

The destruction of the baths are attributed to the same piety, and those of Diocletian and Caracalla showed, in the eighth century, evident marks of human violence. Pope Gregory III. employed nine columns of some ancient building for the church of St. Peter. The rebuilding of the city walls by four popes, in the same century, was a useful but a destructive operation. Pope Hadrian I. threw down an immense structure of Tiburtine stone to enlarge the church of St. Maria in Cosmedin. Donus I. had before (A. D. 676) stripped the marble from a large pyramid, generally known by the name of Scipio’s Tomb. Paul II. employed the stones of the Coliseum to build a palace. Sixtus IV. took down the Temple of Hercules, and destroyed the remains of an ancient bridge to make four hundred cannon-balls for the castle of St. Angelo. Paul III. and his nephews laboured incessantly at the quarry of the Coliseum. He devastated, also, many other buildings. Sixtus V. threw down several statues still remaining in the capital. Urban VIII. took off the bronze from the portico of the Pantheon, and some of the base of the sepulchre of Cecilia Metella; and Paul V. removed the entablature and pediment of a structure in the Forum of Nerva, and also the remaining column of the Temple of Peace. Lastly, Alexander VII. took down the arch called “di Portogallo,” in order to widen the Corso. The inferior clergy, too, were great depredators; insomuch that a volume of no inconsiderable size has been composed by one of their own order to enumerate the Pagan materials applied to the use of the church.

It is difficult to say where this system of depredation would have stopped, had not Benedict XIV. erected a cross in the centre of the arena, and declared the place sacred, out of respect to the blood of the many martyrs who had been butchered there during the persecution. This declaration, if issued two or three centuries before, would have preserved the Coliseum entire; it can now only protect its remains, and transmit them in their present state to posterity.

Conflagrations, also, contributed to the destruction of the city. In 312 the temple of Fortuna was burned down. The palaces of Symmachus and Lampadius, with the baths of Constantine, suffered by the same cause.

Nor must the destruction be confined to one element. The Tiber rose, not unfrequently, to the walls, and many inundations are recorded. Indeed, even so early as the second siege of the city by Totila, there was so much uncultivated land within the walls, that Diogenes, the governor, thought the corn, he had sown, would be sufficient to supply the garrison and citizens in a protracted defence.

It is impossible to assign a precise date to the total destruction of the greater portion of the ancient site; but the calamities of the seventh and eighth centuries must have contributed to, if they did not complete, the change. A scarcity in the year 604, a violent earthquake a few years afterwards, a pestilence in or about the year 678, five great inundations of the Tiber from 680 to 797, a second famine in the pontificate of Pope Constantine, which lasted thirty-six months, a pestilence in the last year of the seventh century, and the assault of the Lombards for three months in 755;—these are the events which compose the Roman history of this unhappy period.

Added to all this, the importance of the new city accelerated the ruin of the old; and great was the destruction during the periods in which separate parties fought their battles in the public streets, after the restoration of the empire of the West; in which we must record the ruin, caused by Robert Guiscard, which proved more injurious to the remains of Rome, from 1082 to 1084, than all the preceding barbarians of every age: for the Normans and Saracens of his army, with the papal faction, burned the town from the Flaminian gate to the Antonine column, and laid waste the sides of the Esquiline to the Lateran; thence he set fire to the region from that church to the Coliseum and the Capitol. He attacked the Coliseum for several days, and finished the ruin of the Capitol.

A cotemporary writer says, that all the regions of the city were ruined; and another spectator, who was in Rome twelve years afterwards, laments that although what remained could not be equalled—what was ruined, could never be repaired.

In the annals for 1167, we find that the German Barbarossa assaulted the Vatican for a week, and that the Pope saved himself in the Capitol. The Colonna were driven from the mausoleum of Augustus. After the Popes had begun to yield in the unequal contest with the senators and people, and had ceased to be constantly in the capital, the field was left open for the wars of the senators; that is, of the nobles themselves. The Colonna and Ursini then appear among the destroyers of the city. In 1291, a civil war occurred, which lasted six months; the issue of which was, according to a spectator, that Rome was reduced to the condition of a town “besieged, bombarded and burned.”

At the period in which Henry VII. was crowned Emperor, battles were fought in every quarter of the city. The fall of houses, indeed, the fire, the slaughter, the ringing of the bells from the churches, the shouts of the combatants, and the clanging of arms, the Roman people rushing from all quarters towards the Capitol; this universal uproar attended the coronation of the new CÆsar, and the Cardinals apprehended the total destruction of the city.

The absence of the Popes, also, from the year 1360 to 1376, has been esteemed peculiarly calamitous to the ancient fabrics. Petrarch was overwhelmed with regret. He complained that the ruins were in danger of perishing; that the nobles were the rivals of time and the ancient Barbarians; and that the columns and precious marbles of Rome were devoted to the decoration of the slothful metropolis of their Neapolitan rivals. Yet, it appears that these columns and marbles were taken from palaces comparatively modern, from the thresholds of churches, from the shrines of sepulchres, from structures to which they had been conveyed from their original state, and finally, from ruins actually fallen. The solid masses of antiquity are not said to have suffered from this spoliation; and the edifices, whose impending ruin affected Petrarch, were the sacred basilicas, then converted into fortresses.

The great earthquake of 1349 operated, also, in a very destructive manner; several ancient ornaments being thrown down; and an inundation of the Tiber is recorded among the afflictions of the times. The summits of the hills alone were above the water; and the lower grounds were for eight days converted into a lake.

The return of the Popes was the signal of renewed violence. The Colonna and Ursini, the people and the church, fought for the Capitol and towers; and the forces of the Popes repeatedly bombarded the town.

During the great schism of the West, the hostile entries of Ladislaus of Naples, and the tumultuous government of the famous Perugian, Braccio Montone, despoiled the tomb of Hadrian, and doubtless other monuments. Yet that violence is supposed to have been less pernicious than the peaceful spoliation which succeeded the extinction of the schism of Martin V, in 1417; and the suppression of the last revolt of the Romans by his successor Eugenius IV, in 1434: for from that epoch is dated the consumption of such marble or travertine, as might either be stripped with facility from the stone monuments, or be found in isolated fragments.

We now give place to a description of what remained in the time of Poggio Bracciolini. Besides a bridge, an arch, a sepulchre, and the pyramid of Cestius, he could discern, of the age of the republic, 1, a double row of vaults, in the salt-office of the Capitol, which were inscribed with the name and munificence of Catullus. 2, Eleven temples were visible, in some degree, from the perfect form of the Pantheon to the three arches and a marble column of the temple of Peace, which Vespasian erected after the civil wars and the Jewish triumph. 3, Of the public baths, none were sufficiently entire to represent the use and distribution of the several parts; but those of Diocletian and Caracalla still retained the titles of the founders, and astonished the curious spectator; who, in observing their solidity and extent, the variety of marbles, the size and multitude of the columns, compared the labour and expense with the use and the importance. Of the baths of Constantine, of Alexander, of Domitian, or rather of Titus, some vestige might yet be found. 4, The triumphal arches of Titus, Severus, and Constantine were entire, both the structures and the inscriptions; a falling fragment was honoured with the name of Trajan; and two arches were still extant in the Flaminian way. 5, After the wonder, of the Coliseum, Poggio might have overlooked a small amphitheatre of brick, most probably for the use of the PrÆtorian camp: the theatres of Marcellus and Pompey were occupied, in a great measure, by public and private buildings; and in the Circus Agonalis and Maximus, little more than the situation and the form could be investigated. 6, The columns of Trajan and Antonine were still erect; but the Egyptian obelisks were broken or buried. A people of gods and heroes, the workmanship of art, was reduced to one equestrian figure of gilt brass, and to five marble statues, of which the most conspicuous were the two horses of Phidias and Praxiteles. 7, The two mausoleums or sepulchres of Augustus and Hadrian could not totally be lost; but the former was visible only as a mound of earth; and the latter, the castle of St. Angelo, had acquired the name and appearance of a modern fortress. With the addition of some separate and nameless columns, such were the remains of the ancient city.

In the intervals between the two visits of Poggio to Rome, the cell, and part of the Temple of Concord, and the base of the tomb of Metella, were ground to lime; also a portico near the Minerva. Poggio’s description of the ruins, it may be observed, is not sufficiently minute or correct to supply the deficiency of his contemporary Blondus; but we may distinctly mark, that the site of ancient Rome had arrived at the desolation in which it is seen at the present day. The Rome of the lower and middle ages was a mass of irregular lanes, built upon or amongst ruins, and surmounted by brick towers, many of them on ancient basements. The streets were so narrow, that two horsemen could ride abreast. Two hundred houses, three towers, and three churches, choked up the forum of Trajan. The reformation of Sixtus IV., and the embellishments of his successors, have obliterated this town, and that which is now seen is a capital, which can only date from the end of the fifteenth century.

Not long before the imperialists carried Rome, the Colonnas, in 1526, sacked it, as it were; and that was followed by that of the Abate di Farfa, and the peasantry of the Orsini family151.

Rome was assaulted by the Bourbon, May 5, 1527; and the imperialists left it February 17, 1528.

No sooner was the Bourbon in sight of Rome, than he harangued his troops, and pointed to the end of all their sufferings. Being destitute of artillery, with which he might batter the walls, he instantly made his dispositions for an assault; and having discovered a breach, he planted, with his own hands, a ladder against the rampart, and prepared to mount it, followed by his German bands. But, at that instant, a shot, discharged from the first arquebuse which was fired, terminated at once his life and his misfortunes. Much fruitless inquiry has been made to ascertain the author of his death, which is commonly attributed to a priest; but Benvenuto Cellini, so well known by his extraordinary adventures and writings, lays claim to the merit of killing this hero. By whatever hand he fell he preserved, even in the act of expiring, all his presence as well as greatness of mind. He no sooner felt himself wounded, than he ordered a Gascon captain, named Jonas, to cover him with a cloak, in order to conceal his death, lest it should damp the courage of his soldiers. Jonas executed his commands with punctuality. The Constable still continued to breathe when the city was taken. He was, therefore, carried thither, and there expired, May 5, 1527, at thirty-eight years of age.

Philipart, prince of Orange, contrived to keep the troops in ignorance of their commander’s death, till they were masters of Rome; and then, to render them inaccessible to pity, he revealed to them the fate of Bourbon. No language can express the fury with which they were animated at this sad intelligence. They rent the air with the cries of “CarnÉ, carnÉ! Sangre, sangre! Bourbon, Bourbon!”

The imagination is appalled at the bare recital of the wanton outrages on human nature, which were committed by Bourbon’s army, during the time that they remained masters of Rome. The pillage lasted, without any interruption, for two months.

Never had that proud city suffered from her barbarian conquerors, in the decline of the Roman empire,—from Alaric, from Genseric, or from Odoacer,—the same merciless treatment as she underwent from the rage of the imperial troops;—the subjects, or the soldiers of a Catholic king! Rapacity, lust, and impiety, were exhausted by these men. Roman ladies of the noblest extraction were submitted to the basest and vilest prostitution. The sacred ornaments of the sacerdotal, and even of the pontifical dignity, were converted to purposes of ridicule and buffoonery. Priests, nay even bishops and cardinals, were degraded to the brutal passions of the soldiery; and after having suffered every ignominy of blows, mutilation, and personal contumely, were massacred in pastime. Exorbitant ransoms were exacted repeatedly from the same persons; and when they had no longer wherewithal to purchase life, they were butchered without mercy. Nuns, virgins, matrons, were publicly devoted to the infamous appetites of the soldiers; who first violated, and then stabbed, the victims of their pleasures. The streets were strewed with the dead; and it is said that eight thousand young women, of all ranks and conditions, were found to be pregnant within five months from the sack of the unfortunate city.

Three years after the sack by Bourbon, that is in 1530, an inundation of the Tiber ruined a multitude of edifices both public and private, and was almost equally calamitous with the sack of Rome. Simond, writing from Rome in January 1818, says: “The Tiber has been very high, and the lower parts of the town under water; yet this is nothing compared with the inundations recorded on two pillars at the port of Ripetta, a sort of landing-place. The mark on one of them is full eighteen feet above the level of the adjoining streets; and, considering the rapidity of the stream, a great part of the city must then have been in imminent danger of being swept away.” In 1819 the Pantheon was flooded; but this is not an uncommon event, as it stands near the river, and the drain, which should carry off the rain-water that falls through the aperture in the top, communicates with the stream. The inundations of the Tiber, indeed, are one of the causes, which combined to destroy so many of the monuments of Rome during the middle ages. There is one recorded in 1345, among the afflictions of the times, when only the summits of the hills were above the water, and the lower grounds were converted into a lake for the space of eight days. Several floods are mentioned by the ancient writers; and Tacitus speaks of a project which was debated in the senate, A. D. 15, for diverting some of the streams running into the Tiber, but which was not carried into execution in consequence of the petitions of various towns, who sent deputies to oppose it; partly on the ground of their local interests being affected, and partly from a feeling of superstition, which emboldened them to urge that “Nature had assigned to rivers their proper courses,” and other reasons of a similar nature.

Aurelian endeavoured to put an effectual stop to the calamities which sprang from the lawless river, by raising its banks and clearing its channel. However, the deposits resulting from these frequent inundations have contributed greatly to that vast accumulation of soil, which has raised the surface of modern Rome so many feet above the ancient level; and thus the evil itself has occasioned a remedy to a partial extent.

We must now close this portion of our imperfect account, and proceed to give our readers some idea in respect to the present condition of Rome’s ancient remains; gleaned, for the most part, from the pages of writers who have recently been sojourners in “the Eternal City:” but in doing this we by no means wish our readers to expect the full and minute particulars, which they may find in works entirely dedicated to the subject; for Rome, even in its antiquities, would require a volume for itself.

When Poggio Bracciolini visited Rome in the fifteenth century, he complained that nothing of old Rome subsisted entire, and that few monuments of the free city remained; and many writers of more recent times have made the same complaint. “The artist,” says Sir John Hobhouse, “may be comparatively indifferent to the date and history, and regard chiefly the architectural merit of a structure; but the Rome which the Florentine republican regretted, and which an Englishman would wish to find, is not that of Augustus and his successors, but of those greater and better men, of whose heroic actions his earliest impressions are composed.” To which, however, may be added what Dr. Burton questions, viz., Whether, in his expectations, the traveller may not betray his ignorance of real history. “The works of the Romans, in the early ages of their nation, were remarkable for their solidity and strength; but there seems no reason to suppose that much taste or elegance was displayed in them. But then, again, if we wish to confine ourselves to the republic, there is surely no need of monuments of brick and stone to awaken our recollections of such a period. If we must have visible objects on which to fix our attention, we have the ground itself on which the Romans trod; we have the Seven Hills; we have the Campus Martius, the Forum,—all places familiar to us from history, and in which we can assign the precise spot where some memorable action was performed. Those who feel a gratification, by placing their footsteps where Cicero or CÆsar did before them, in the consciousness of standing upon the same hill which Manlius defended, and in all those associations which bring the actors themselves upon the scene, may have all their enthusiasm satisfied, and need not complain that there are no monuments of the time of the republic.”

The remains of ancient Rome may be classed in three different periods. Of the first, the works of the kings, embracing a period of two hundred and forty-four years, from the foundation of the city by Romulus to the expulsion of Tarquin, very little have escaped the ravages of time; the Tullian walls and prison, with the Cloaca Maxima, being the only identified remains. Of the works of the republic, which lasted four hundred and sixty-one years, although the city, during that period, was more than once besieged, burned, and sacked, many works are yet extant:—the military ways and aqueducts, and some small temples and tombs. But it was during the third period, that of the emperors, that Rome attained the meridian of her glory. For three centuries all the known world was either subject to her, or bound by commercial treaties; and the taste and magnificence of the Romans were displayed in the erection of temples to the gods, triumphal arches and pillars to conquerors, amphitheatres, palaces, and other works of ostentation and luxury, for which architecture was made to exhaust her treasures, and no expense was spared to decorate.

Architecture was unknown to the Romans until Tarquin came down from Etruria. Hence the few works of the kings, which still remain, were built in the Etruscan style, with large uncemented, but regular blocks. In the gardens of the convent Giovanni a S. Paolo is a ruin of the Curia Hostilia, called the Rostrum of Cicero; and some few fragments, also, remain of a bridge, erected by Ancus Martius. On this bridge (Pons Sublicius) Horatius Cocles opposed singly the army of Porsenna; and from it, in subsequent times, the bodies of Commodus and Heliogabalus were thrown into the Tiber. In the pontificate of Nicholas V. it was destroyed by an inundation. There are also the remains of a large brick edifice, supposed to have been the Curia, erected by Tullus Hostilius, which was destroyed by fire when the populace burned in it the corpse of Clodius. Julius CÆsar commenced its restoration; and Augustus finished it, and gave it the name of Curia Julia, in honour of his father by adoption.

In regard to the form and size of the city, we must follow the direction of the seven hills upon which it was built. 1. Of these Mons Palatinus has always had the preference. It was in this place that Romulus laid the foundation of the city, in a quadrangular form; and here the same king and Tullus Hostilius kept their courts, as did Augustus afterwards, and all the succeeding emperors. This hill was in compass 1200 paces. 2. Mons Tarpeius, took its name from Tarpeia, a Roman virgin, who in this place betrayed the city to the Sabines. It had afterwards the denomination of Capitolinus, from the head of a man, casually found here in digging for the foundation of the temple of Jupiter. This hill was added to the city by Titus Tatius, king of the Sabines; when, having been first overcome in the field by Romulus, he and his subjects were permitted to incorporate with the Romans. 3. Mons Esquilinus was taken in by Servius Tullius, who had here his royal seat. 4. Mons Viminalis derived its name from the osiers that grew very plentifully upon it. This hill was taken in by Servius Tullus. 5. Mons Coelius owes its name to Coelius, or Coeles, a Tuscan general greatly celebrated in his time, who pitched his tents here when he came to the assistance of Romulus against the Sabines. Its having been taken into the city is attributed to Tullus Hostilius, by Livy and Dionysius; but by Strabo, to Ancus Martius. 6. Collis Quirinalis was so called from the temple of Quirinus, another name of Romulus; or from the Curetes, a people that removed hither from a Sabine city, called Cures. It afterwards changed its name to Caballus, Mons Caballi, and Caballinus, from the two marble horses, with each a man holding him, which are set up here. They are still standing, and, if the inscription on the pilasters be true, were the work of Phidias and Praxiteles; made by those masters to represent Alexander and his horse Bucephalus, and sent to Nero as a present by Tiridates king of Armenia. 7. Mons Aventinus derived its name from Aventinus, an Alban king, from the river Avens, or from (ab Avibus) the birds, that used to flock there from the Tiber. Gellius affirms, that this hill was not enclosed within the bounds of the city, till the time of Claudius; but Eutropius expressly states that it was taken into it even so early as that of Ancus Martius.

As to the extent of the whole city, the greatest, recorded in history, was in the reign of Valerian, who enlarged the walls to such a degree, as to surround a space of fifty miles. The number of inhabitants, in its flourishing state, is computed by Lipsius at four millions. The present extent of the walls is about thirteen miles. Sir John Hobhouse walked round them in three hours, thirty-three minutes and three quarters; and Dr. Burton did the same in three hours and ten minutes.

This circuit will bring into view specimens of every construction, from the days of Servius Tullius down to the present. Aurelian took into his walls whatever he found standing in their line, and they now include some remains of the Tullian walls, the walls of the PrÆtorian barracks, the facing of a tank, aqueducts, sepulchral monuments, a menagerie, an amphitheatre, a pyramid, &c. Thus do they exhibit the uncemented blocks of the Etruscan style, the reticular work of the republic, the travertine preferred by the first emperors, the alternate tufa and bricks employed by their successors, and that poverty of materials which marks the declining empire. Since the first breach, made by Totila, the walls have been often and variously repaired; sometimes by a case of brick-work, filled up with shattered marbles, rubble, shard, and mortar. In some parts, the cementitious work is unfaced; here you find stones and tufa mixed; there tufa alone, laid in the Saracenic manner: the latter repairs have the brick revÊtement of modern fortification.

The gates of Rome, at the present day, are sixteen in number, of which only twelve are open. The wall of Romulus had but three or four; and there has been much discussion among antiquaries, as to their position. That of Servius had seven; but in the time of Pliny, (in the middle of the first century) there were no less than thirty-seven gates to the city. The twelve gates at present in use correspond to some of the principal gates of former times.

Modern Rome, however, can scarcely be said to rest upon the ancient base. Scarcely two-thirds of the space within the walls are now inhabited, and the most thickly peopled district is comprised within what was anciently the open plain of the Campus Martius. On the other hand the most populous part of the ancient Rome is now but a landscape; it would almost seem, indeed, as if the city had slipped off its seven hills into the plain beneath. A remarkable change, too, has taken place in the surface of the site itself. In the valleys the ground has been raised not less than fourteen or fifteen feet. This is strikingly observable in the Forum, where there has been a great rise above the ancient level, owing partly to the accumulation of soil and rubbish brought down by the rains; but chiefly, as there is reason to believe, to that occasioned by the demolition of ancient buildings, and the practice which prevailed of erecting new structures upon the prostrate ruins.

The Tiber, too, still remains; but its present appearance has been variously estimated. “The Tiber,” says Dr. Burton, “is a stream of which classical recollections are apt to raise too favourable anticipations. When we think of the fleets of the capital of the world sailing up it, and pouring in their treasures of tributary kingdoms, we are likely to attach to it ideas of grandeur and magnificence. But if we come to the Tiber with such expectations, our disappointment will be great.”

Sir John Hobhouse speaks differently: “Arrived at the bank of the Tiber,” he says, speaking of the traveller’s approach to Rome from the north, across the Ponte Molle, “he does not find the muddy insignificant stream, which the disappointments of overheated imaginations have described it; but one of the finest rivers of Europe, now rolling through a vale of gardens, and now sweeping the base of swelling acclivities, clothed with wood, and crowned with villas, and their evergreen shrubberies.” Notwithstanding this, the Tiber can be by no means called a large river, and it is scarcely navigable even below Rome, owing to the frequent shoals which impede its course. A steam-boat, which plies between the capital and Fiumicino, a distance of about sixteen miles, is generally five or six hours in making the passage. Ordinary vessels are three days in making their way up the Tiber to Rome; being towed up always by buffaloes. The velocity of its current may be estimated from the fact, that it deposits its coarser gravel thirty miles from the city, and its finer at twelve; it hence pursues its course to the sea, charged only with a fine yellowish sand, imparting to its waters that peculiar colour, which poets call golden, and travellers muddy. Yet these waters enjoyed, at one time, a high reputation for sweetness and salubrious qualities. Pope Paul the Third invariably carried a supply of the water of the Tiber with him on his longest journeys; and his predecessor, Clement the Seventh, was similarly provided, by order of his physician, when he repaired to Marseilles, to celebrate the marriage of his niece, Catherine de Medici, with the brother of the Dauphin, afterwards Henry the Second of France.

Both within and without the walls of Rome, fragments of aqueducts may be seen. Of these “some,” says Mr. Woods, “are of stone, others of brick-work, but the former cannot be traced for any continuance; and while two or three are sometimes supported on a range of arches, in other places almost every one seems to have a range to itself. It is curious to trace these repairs, executed, perhaps, fifteen centuries ago. The execution of the brick-work, in most instances, or perhaps in all, shows them to be decidedly prior to the age of Constantine; and the principal restorations, in all probability, took place when the upper water-courses were added. They generally consist of brick arches, built within the ancient stone ones; sometimes resting on the old piers, but more often carried down to the ground; and, in some cases, the whole arch has been filled up, or only a mere door-way left at the bottom. Sometimes this internal work has been wholly, or partially, destroyed; and sometimes the original stone-work has disappeared, as the owner of the ground happened to want bricks, or squared stones. In one place the ancient piers have been entirely buried in the more recent brick-work; but the brick-work has been broken, and the original stone-work taken away: presenting a very singular, and, at first sight, wholly unaccountable appearance. In other parts, the whole has fallen, apparently without having had these brick additions; for a range of parallel mounds mark the situation of the prostrated piers.”

“I do not know any thing more striking,” says Simond, “than these endless arches of Roman aqueducts, pursuing, with great strides, their irregular course over the desert. They suggest the idea of immensity, of durability, of simplicity, of boundless power, reckless of cost and labour, all for a useful purpose, and regardless of beauty. A river in mid-air, which had been flowing on ceaselessly for fifteen or eighteen hundred, or two thousand years, poured its cataracts in the streets and public squares of Rome, when she was mistress, and also when she was the slave of nations; and quenched the thirst of Attila, and of Genseric, as it had before quenched that of Brutus and CÆsar, and as it has since quenched that of beggars and of popes. During those ages of desolation and darkness, when Rome had almost ceased to be a city, this artificial river ran to waste among the ruins; but now fills again the numerous and magnificent fountains of the modern city. Only three out of eleven of these ancient aqueducts remain entire, and in a state to conduct water; what, then, must have been the profusion of water to ancient Rome?”

The Tarpeian rock still exists; but has little in its appearance to gratify the associations of a classic traveller. Seneca describes it as it existed in his time thus:—“A lofty and precipitous mass rises up, rugged with many rocks, which either bruise the body to death, or hurry one down still more violently. The points projecting from the sides, and the gloomy prospect of its vast height, are truly horrid. This place is chosen in particular, that the criminals may not require to be thrown down more than once.”

Poggio Bracciolini gives a melancholy picture of what, in his time, was the state of this celebrated rock. “This Tarpeian rock was a savage and solitary thicket. In the time of the poet it was covered with the golden roofs of a temple; the temple is overthrown, the gold has been pillaged, the wheel of fortune has accomplished her revolution, and the sacred ground is again disfigured with thorns and brambles. The hill of the Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman empire, the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings; illustrated by the footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils and attributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the world, how is it fallen! how changed! how defaced! The path of victory is obliterated by vines, and the benches of the senators are concealed by a dunghill.”

“Like the modern Tiber, the modern Tarpeian,” says an elegant traveller, “is little able to bear the weight of its ancient reputation.” “The only precipice that remains,” says another traveller (Mathews) “is one about thirty feet from the point of a wall, where you might leap down on the dung, mixed in the fold below, without any fear of breaking your bones.”

The Aqueducts were, beyond all question, some of the noblest designs of the Romans. Frontinus, a Roman author, and a person of consular dignity, who compiled a treatise on this subject, affirms them to be the clearest token of the grandeur of the empire. The first invention of them is attributed to Appius Claudius, A. U. C. 441, who brought water into the city by a channel eleven miles in length. But this was very inconsiderable compared to those that were afterwards carried on by the emperors and other persons; several of which were cut through the mountains, and all other impediments, for above forty miles together; and of such height, that a man on horseback, as Procopius informs us, might ride through them without the least difficulty. This, however, is meant only of the constant course of the channel; for the vaults and arches were, in some places, 109 feet high.

Procopius makes the Aqueducts only fourteen; but Aurelius Victor has enlarged the number to twenty. The Claudian Aqueduct conveyed 800,000 tons of water each day into the city.

The Forums of Rome were of two kinds; one a place of popular assembly, both for business, and pleasure; serving at once the purposes of what we call an Exchange, certain courts of justice, and of hustings for the election of public functionaries: the other consisted of market-places. The chief forum was emphatically called the Roman, or the Great Forum.

The second forum, built in Rome, was erected by Julius CÆsar. The third was called sometimes the Augustan, from its having been formed by Augustus; and sometimes the Forum of Mars from the temple of that god, erected by him. Some remains are still in existence. The fourth forum was begun by Domitian, but being finished by Nerva, it was called after his name. A fifth forum was built by the emperor Trajan; said to have been the most celebrated work of the kind in the city. It was built with the spoils he had taken in his wars. The roof was of brass.

Ammianus Marcellinus, in his description of Constantine’s triumphal entrance into Rome, when he has brought him, with no ordinary admiration, by the Baths, the Pantheon, the Capitol, and other noble structures, as soon as ever he gives him a sight of the Forum of Trajan, he puts him into an ecstacy, and cannot forbear making a harangue upon the matter. We meet in the same place with a very smart repartee, which Constantine received at the time from Ormisdas, a Persian prince. The emperor, as he greatly admired everything belonging to this noble pile, so he had a particular fancy for the statue of Trajan’s horse, which stood on the top of it, and expressed his desire of doing as much for his own beast. “Pray, sir,” says the prince, “before you talk of getting such a horse, will you be pleased to build such a stable to put him in?”

Besides these there was another. This was situated not in the city, but in its neighbourhood. It was called the Forum Populi, which is frequently mentioned in the history of the republic; and which interests us as being the popular and commercial resort of a free people. At stated periods, the Romans, and their friends and allies, used to meet at that spot, and celebrate the LatinÆ FeriÆ; on which many holidays and religious ceremonies were accompanied by renewals of treaties of amity, by the interchange of commodities, and by manly sports and pastimes. While the Roman citizens came from the Tiber, the free confederates descended from their mountains, or wended their way from the fertile plains beyond the river. Sir William Gell thinks he can fix this interesting spot. The habitations around the temple of Jupiter Latialis, on Mont Albano, are supposed to have constituted the village called Forum Populi. It is probable that the meeting of the Latin confederates upon the mountain, and the fair held there, led to its erection. Here the consuls had a house where they sometimes lodged, which Dio Cassius (lib. iii.) says was struck with lightning.

We now return to the Great Forum.

The Forum152 was an entirely open space; it had public buildings in it, as well as around it; we even read of streets passing through it. The Curia, or Senate-house, stood near the foot of the Palatine hill, in about the middle of the eastern side of the Forum. It was built originally by Tullus Hostilius, the third king of Rome; and, after having been repaired by Sylla, was destroyed by fire in the year 53 B. C., when the body of Clodius, who had been murdered by Milo, was carried into it by a tumultuous multitude, and there burnt on a funeral pile, formed of benches of the senators, the tables, the archives, and such other materials as the place afforded. Sylla’s son rebuilt it; but under the false pretence of erecting a temple to “Felicity.” It was again restored by Julius CÆsar.

Vitruvius says, that the Greek Forum was square, with ambulatories in the upper story; the Roman was oblong, with porticos, and shops for bankers, and with galleries in the upper floor, adapted for the management of the public revenues. The Roman forum also included many other edifices of a different nature; as the basilicÆ, prison, curiÆ, and were enriched with colonnades and sculpture. That of Trajan was entered by four triumphal arches, and had his magnificent column in the centre of it.

A few words will describe the present state of this celebrated spot:—

The list of edifices in the Forum would be tedious; nor could even learned antiquaries now make it correct; but among them we may mention the temple of the Penates, or household gods, the temple of Concord, the temple of Jupiter Stator, the temple of Castor and Pollux153, the temple of Vesta, the temple of Victory, the temple of Julius CÆsar, and the arches of Fabian, Tiberius, and Severus. All these, however, and in most cases even the traces of them, have disappeared,—the few objects remaining being a puzzle to such persons as take an interest in them, and examine the matters on the spot.

“The glories of the Forum are now fled forever,” says Mr. Eustace. Its temples are fallen; its sanctuaries are crumbled into dust; its colonnades encumber pavements, now buried under their remains. The walls of the rostra, stripped of their ornaments, and doomed to eternal silence; a few shattered porticos, and here and there an insulated column standing in the midst of broken shafts, vast fragments of marble capitals and cornices heaped together in masses, remind the traveller that the field which he now traverses was once the Roman forum154. It is reduced, indeed, not to the pasture-ground for cattle, which Virgil has described, but to the market-place for pigs, sheep, and oxen; being now the Smithfield of Rome. The hills, the rivers, the roads and bridges, in this mother of cities, mostly go by their ancient Latin names, slightly altered in Italian, but the Forum has not even retained its name; it is now called Campo Vaccino, or the Field of Cows!

This scene155, though now so desolate and degraded, was once the great centre of all the business, power, and splendour of Rome. Here, as long as the Romans were a free people, all the affairs of the state were debated in the most public manner; and from the rostra, elevated in the midst of the square, and with their eyes fixed on the capitol, which immediately faced them, and which was suited to fill their minds with patriotism, whilst the Tarpeian rock reminded them of the fate reserved for treason and corruption, the noblest of orators “wielded at will” the fierce democracy, or filled the souls of gathered thousands with one object, one wish, one passion—the freedom and glory of the Roman race;—a freedom which would have been more enduring had the glory been less.

Here the orators of the people brought their accusations against public men, or pronounced eulogies on such as had died for their country; and here, also, were exhibited the bleeding heads or lifeless bodies of traitors, or, as it but too often happened, of men unjustly deemed so by an overbearing faction. The Forum was the court of justice, and in homely days of the early republic, civil and criminal causes were tried and decided by simple laws in the open air, or in very plain sheds built in this square. The humble schools for the republican children (for even these old Romans had places of public instruction for the poor people) stood round the Forum, which seems to have been intermixed with shops, shambles, stalls, lowly temples, and altars.

No object within the walls of Rome, according to Dr. Burton, is so melancholy as the Forum. “We may lament,” says he, “the ruin of a temple or a palace, but our interest in the remaining fragments is frequently diminished by our either not knowing with certainty to what building they belonged, or because history has not stamped them with any peculiar recollections. But standing upon the hill of the Capitol, and looking down upon the Forum, we contemplate a scene with which we fancy ourselves familiar, and we seem suddenly to have quitted the habitations of living men. Not only is its former grandeur utterly annihilated, but the ground has not been applied to any other purpose. When we descend into it, we find that many of the ancient buildings are buried under irregular heaps of soil. A warm imagination might fancy that some spell hung over the spot, forbidding it to be profaned by the ordinary occupations of inhabited cities. What Virgil says of its appearance before the Trojan settlers arrived, is singularly true at the present moment:

Where the Roman people saw temples erected to perpetuate their exploits; and where the Roman nobles vied with each other in the magnificence of their dwellings, we see now a few isolated pillars standing amongst some broken arches. Or if the curiosity of foreigners has investigated what the natives neither think nor care about, we may, perhaps, see the remnant of a statue, or a column, extracted from the rubbish. Where the Comitia were held, where Cicero harangued, and where the triumphal processions passed, we have now no animated beings, except strangers, attracted by curiosity; the convicts who are employed in excavating, as a punishment, and those more harmless animals, who find a scanty pasture, and a shelter from the sun under a grove of trees. If we look to the boundaries of this desolation, the prospect is equally mournful. At one end we have the hill of the Capitol; on the summit of which, instead of the temple of Jupiter, the wonder of the world, we have the palace of the solitary senator. If we wish to ascend this eminence, we have, on one side, the most ancient structure in Rome, and that a prison; on the other, the ruins of a temple, which seems to have been amongst the finest in the city, and the name of which is not known. If we turn from the capital, we have, on our right, the Palatine hill, which once contained the whole Roman people, and which was afterwards insufficient for the house of one emperor, and is now occupied by a few gardens, and a convent. On the left, there is a range of churches, formed out of ancient temples; and in front, we discover at a considerable distance, through the branches of trees, and the ruins of buildings, the mouldering arches of the Colosseum.

The Mausoleo Adriano was erected by Adrian, in the gardens of Domitian. It is two stories high; the lower square, the upper round. It was formerly covered with Parian marble, and encircled by a concentric portico, and surmounted by a cupola. The Pons Ælius was the approach to it; during the middle ages, it was used as a fortress; and the upper works, of brick, were added to it by Alexander VI.; when it became the citadel of Rome. This castle was of great service to Pope Clement VII., when the city was surprised (A. D. 1527) by the imperial army. The castle was formerly the burial-place of the Roman emperors, which, after Augustus’s mausoleum on the side of the Tiber was filled with arms, Adrian built for himself and his successors; hence it acquired the name of Moles Hadriani. The large round tower in the centre of the edifice was formerly adorned with a considerable number of small pillars and statues; but most of them were broken to pieces by the Romans themselves, who made use of them to defend themselves against the Goths, when they assaulted the city; as may be read at large in Procopius and Baronius. On the top of it stood the Pigna, since in the Belvidere Gardens. It received its name of St. Angelo, from the supposed appearance of an angel, at the time of a pestilence, during the reign of Gregory the Great. It was fortified by Pope Urban VII., with five regular bastions, ramparts, moats, &c. The hall is adorned with gildings, fine paintings, and Adrian’s statue, whose bust, with that of Augustus, is to be seen on the castle wall.

The Mamertine prisons157 are supposed to be the oldest monuments of antiquity in Rome. Livy speaks of them as the work of Ancus Martius. “The state having undergone a vast increase,” says the historian, “and secret villanies being perpetrated, from the distinction between right and wrong being confounded, in so great a multitude of men, a prison was built in the middle of the city, overhanging the Forum, as a terror to the increasing boldness. These prisons are supposed to be called after their founder, Martius. They were enlarged by Servius Tullus; and the part which he added bore the name of Tullian. The front of this prison is open to the street; but above, and resting on it, is built the church of San Giuseppe Falegnani. It has an appearance of great solidity, being composed of immense masses of stone, put together without cement; almost every one of the blocks is upwards of nine feet long, and in height nearly three feet. The length of the front is forty-three feet; but its height does not exceed seventeen; along the upper part runs an inscription, intimating, that Caius Vibius Rufinus and Marcus Cocceius Nerva (who were consuls in the year 23), by a decree of the senate, repaired, enlarged, or did something to the prison. The traveller descends, by the aid of stairs, into the upper cell. Nearly in the middle of the vaulted roof he may perceive an aperture large enough to admit the passage of a man’s body; and directly under it, in the floor of the cell, he will see another opening of a similar character. This affords a direct communication with the lower prison; but he descends at another point by a second flight of steps, modern like the former. The second cell is of much smaller dimensions than the other, being only nineteen feet in length, by nine in breadth, and about six in height.” “It is faced,” says the Rev. Mr. Burgess, “with the same material as the upper one; and it is worthy of remark, as a proof of its high antiquity, that the stones are not disposed with that regularity which the rules of good masonry require; the joinings often coincide, or nearly so, instead of reposing over the middle of the interior block respectively.”

Dr. Burton says, “that a more horrible place for the confinement of a human being than these prisons, can scarcely be imagined. Their condition in ancient times must have been still worse than it now is. The expressions ‘cell of groans,’ ‘house of sadness,’ ‘black prison,’ ‘cave of darkness,’ ‘place darkened with perpetual night;’ and many others, which are to be met with in the pages of the later Latin writers, sufficiently attest the character they bore in ancient times.”

Quintus Pleminius, who had done good service to the republic in the second Punic war, but who afterwards had been sent in chains to Rome, on account of the enormities which he had practised in the government of the town of Locri, was incarcerated in this prison. In the year 194 B. C. certain games were being performed in the city; and while the minds of all were taken up with the sight of them, Quintus Pleminius procured persons to agree to set the city on fire, at night, in several places at once, so that in the consternation of a nocturnal tumult, the prison might be broken open. The matter, however, was disclosed by persons privy thereto, and communicated to the senate; and Pleminius was immediately put to death in the lower cell. The accomplices of Catiline, too, expiated their guilt in this prison. The celebrated African king, Jugurtha, also, in the same place closed his last days. His melancholy end is thus described by Plutarch:—

“Marius, bringing back his army from Africa into Italy, took possession of the consulship the first day of January, and also entered Rome in triumph, showing the Romans what they had never expected to see; this was the king Jugurtha prisoner, who was a man so wary, and who knew so well to accommodate himself to fortune, and who united so much courage to his craft and cunning, that none of his enemies ever thought that they would have him alive. When he had been led in the procession he became deranged, as they say, in his understanding; and, after the triumph, he was thrown into prison; when, as they were stripping him of his tunic by force, and striving in eager haste to take from him his golden ear-ring, they tore it off, together with the lower part of his ear. Being then thrust naked into the deep cavern, he said, full of trouble, and smiling bitterly, ‘Hercules! how cold is this bath of yours!’ Having struggled, however, for six days, with hunger, waiting in suspense till the last hour, from his passionate desire to live, he met with the just rewards of his wicked deeds.” In this prison, also, Perseus, the captive king of Macedonia, lingered many years in hopeless misery; and in one of its cells, also, St. Peter was imprisoned nine years.

Next to the Mamertine prisons, in point of antiquity, but greatly above them as a work of labour and art, was the Cloaca Maxima. The first sewers in Rome were constructed by Tarquinius Priscus. The Cloaca Maxima was the work of Tarquin the Proud.

Pliny says that Agrippa, in his Ædileship, made no less than seven streams meet together underground in one main channel, with such a rapid current as to carry all before them that they met with in their passage. Sometimes when they are violently swoln with immoderate rains, they beat with excessive fury against the paving at the bottom and the sides. Sometimes in a flood the Tiber waters oppose them in their course; and then the two streams encounter with great fury; and yet the works preserve their ancient strength, without any sensible damage. Sometimes huge pieces of stone and timber, or such-like materials, are carried down the channel; and yet the fabric receives no detriment. Sometimes the ruin of whole buildings, destroyed by fire or other casualties, presses heavily upon the frame. Sometimes terrible earthquakes shake the very foundations, and yet they still continue impregnable. Such is the testimony of Pliny the Elder.

The Cloaca Maxima still exists. At its outlet in the Tiber, it is said to be thirteen feet high, and as many in breadth. The ancients always regarded this work as a great wonder. Livy speaks of it in terms of admiration; and Pliny equally so; and Dionysius says that the sewers having been once so greatly neglected that sufficient passage was not afforded for the waters, it cost no less a sum than 225,000l. to put them in repair.

The Pyramid of Cestius, one of the most ancient remains, is the only specimen of a pyramid in Rome. It was erected daring the republic, to the memory of Caius Cestius, one of the priests that provided feasts for the gods. It is of great size, being ninety-seven feet in the base, and one hundred and twenty-four in height; and was erected, according to the inscription, in three hundred and thirty days.

This ancient monument remains entire158. It is formed, externally, of white marble. At each corner on the outside was a pillar, once surmounted with a statue. Its form is graceful, and its appearance very picturesque; supported on either side by the ancient wall of Rome, with their towers and galleries venerable in decay, half shaded by a few scattered trees; and, looking down upon a hundred humble tents interspersed in the neighbouring groves, it rises in lonely pomp, and seems to preside over these fields of silence and mortality.

This structure was repaired by order of Pope Alexander VII. in 1663; it having been greatly dilapidated; no less than fifteen feet of rubbish have accumulated above the base. “It is curious,” says Simond, “to see how Nature, disappointed of her usual means of destruction by the pyramidal shape, goes to work another way. That very shape affording a better hold for plants, their roots have penetrated between the stones, and acting like wedges, have lifted and thrown wide large blocks, in such a manner, as to threaten the disjoined assemblage with entire destruction. In Egypt, the extreme heat and want of moisture, during a certain part of the year, hinder the growth of plants in such situations; and in Africa alone are pyramids eternal.”—Close to this is the Protestant burial-ground. “When I am inclined to be serious,” says Mr. Rogers, “I love to wander up and down before the tomb of Caius Cestius. The Protestant burial-ground is there; and most of the little monuments are erected to the young; young men of promise, cut off when on their travels, full of enthusiasm, full of enjoyment; brides in the bloom of their beauty, on their first journey; or children borne from home in search of health. This stone was placed by his fellow-travellers, young as himself, who will return to the house of his parents without him; that by a husband or a father, now in his native country. His heart is buried in that grave. It is a quiet and sheltered nook, covered in the winter with violets; and the pyramid that overshadows it gives a classical and singularly solemn air. You feel an interest there, a sympathy you were not prepared for. You are yourself in a foreign land; and they are for the most part your countrymen. They call upon you in your mother tongue—in English—in words unknown to a native; known only to yourselves: and the tomb of Cestius, that old majestic pile has this also in common with them,—it is itself a stranger among strangers. It has stood there till the language, spoken round about it, has changed; and the shepherd, born at the foot, can read its inscription no longer.”

A little beyond the Circus of Caracalla159 rises the mausoleum of Cecilia Metella, a beautiful edifice, built by Crassus, in honour of his wife. It is of considerable height and great thickness: in the centre is a hollow space reaching from the pavement to the top of the building. In the concavity was deposited the body in a marble sarcophagus, which in the time of Paul III. was removed to the court of the Farnesian palace. The solidity and simplicity of this monument are worthy of the republican era in which it was erected, and have enabled it to resist the incidents and survive the lapse of two thousand years.

“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 Coelius:—“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 Coeli, 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’oeuvre 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.”

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