Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/artnatureunderitOOdunbrich 
 
ART AND NATURE 
 
 UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
5" 
 
 ART 
 
 AND 
 
 NATURE 
 
 UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 
 By^. J 
 
 M. D.».wba,ir 
 
 EDINBURGH: THOMAS 
 
 CONSTABLE AND CO. 
 
 HAMILTON, ADAMS, 
 
 AND CO., LONDON. , 
 
 
 MDCCCLII. 
 

 GIFT OF 
 
 PROFESSOR C.A. 'XOFOIO 
 
 EUISBUKGn : T. CONSTABLE, PIIINTRR TO HKR MAJESTVr 
 
TO 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS DEDICATED AS A TIUBUTE OF AFFECTION 
 
 BY M. J. M. D. 
 
 iVi216948 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction, . . . . . . . 1 
 
 The Domo of Milan, 
 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 The Bkera Galleky, 
 
 
 
 
 47 
 
 Genoa, .... 
 
 
 
 
 51 
 
 Visit to Pompeii, 
 
 
 
 
 95 
 
 Vesuvius, .... 
 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 Baue, .... 
 
 
 
 
 114 
 
 Hekculaneum, 
 
 
 
 
 121 
 
 Castellamare and Sorrento, 
 
 
 
 
 123 
 
 Lago D'Agnano and the Solpatara, 
 
 
 
 
 129 
 
 P-ESTUM, .... 
 
 
 
 
 137 
 
 Amalfi, .... 
 
 
 
 
 143 
 
 Second Ascent of Vesuvius, 
 
 
 
 
 147 
 
 KOME, .... 
 
 
 
 
 157 
 
 The Vatican Statuary by Torchlight, 
 
 
 
 
 167 
 
 St. Peter's, .... 
 
 
 
 
 173 
 
 The Protestant Burying-Ground, 
 
 
 
 
 181 
 
 St. John Lateran, . 
 
 
 
 
 187 
 
 Picture Galleries, . 
 
 
 
 
 190 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vespeks, ...... 
 
 197 
 
 The Catacombs, 
 
 
 
 
 204 
 
 Museum of the Capitol, . 
 
 
 
 
 207 
 
 Bracciano, .... 
 
 
 
 
 211 
 
 Reception in the Colonna Palace, 
 
 
 
 
 221 
 
 The Vatican Pictures and Frescoes, 
 
 
 
 
 224 
 
 Villas, .... 
 
 
 
 
 229 
 
 The Miserere, 
 
 
 
 
 
 234 
 
 Interview with the Pope, 
 
 
 
 
 
 239 
 
 Illumination of St. Peter' 
 
 s, 
 
 
 
 
 243 
 
 Departure from Rome, 
 
 
 
 
 
 248 
 
 Florence, 
 
 
 
 
 
 259 
 
 Visit to-Fiesole, 
 
 
 
 
 
 266 
 
 IjEaving Florence, . 
 
 
 
 
 
 269 
 
 Bologna, 
 
 
 
 
 
 273 
 
 Ferrara, 
 
 
 
 
 
 278 
 
 Padua, 
 
 
 ♦ 
 
 
 
 282 
 
 Venice, 
 
 
 
 
 
 287 
 
ART AND NATURE 
 
 UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ARious motives combine to make me wish to 
 keep something hke a Journal during our 
 ^. present tour. It is always a peculiar plea- 
 rO sure to me to possess a memorial of the 
 past, especially if that past has been marked 
 by change of scene, or the calling forth of new 
 feelings ; but to be able thereby to recall vividly 
 those scenes and feelings, so as to share them 
 *^n,)'i ^'i^I^ those who have either experienced or can aym- 
 *^-- pathize with them, makes such a record more valuable 
 still. The painful part of leaving England and oiu- own 
 qiiiet home just now, is the consequent separation from 
 our dear child, thankful though we are that she will be 
 most kindly and tenderly cared for. Yet the idea, that if 
 it please God to spare her, that dear child may, in after 
 years, read the record of these days, will, I feel, add much 
 to the enjoyment of employing my spare moments of rest 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 or leisure in a way that may hereafter contribute to her 
 pleasure or instruction. 
 
 We embarked at Blackwall in the steamer for Antwerp — 
 September 1845. The " Soho" seems a noble vessel, and is 
 fitted up so as to secure as much of comfort for her passengers 
 as usually falls to the lot of mortals in such a conveyance, 
 which, however, I must confess, so far as my personal expe- 
 rience extends, is not saying much. Having secured a com- 
 fortable seat on deck, I amused myself, as we gUded down the 
 river, with the scene of bustle, so striking and bewildering to 
 any one who passes for the first time through that world of 
 shipping in the Thames. One's fellow-passengei's, too, come 
 in for some share of interest on such occasions, and of criti- 
 cism also, which doubtless is generally mutual. Near me sat 
 a good-natured and somewhat portly dame, with a pleasing- 
 looking daughter. The former amused me considerably : her 
 remarks were precisely what one so often meets with in books. 
 She was one of those people who bear that unmistakable mark 
 of having risen in the world, viz., an evident anxiety to im- 
 press you with the opposite. She took care to leave no doubt 
 as to her being quite rich and able to do as she liked, while 
 the allusions to " her house," " her carnage," " her servants," 
 &c., were exactly the kind of thing Miss Edge worth and other 
 writers have so often depicted. Among other pieces of infor- 
 mation she gave me to understand that she had been " a great 
 traveller," though it very shortly appeared that she had never 
 before left England. This worthy individual was nevertheless 
 both good-natured and kind. The daughter, a happy, joyous- 
 looking girl, entered with all her heart into every novelty of 
 this her first expedition — having, as her mother informed me, 
 just left school. Le Pere, a thorough John Bull, according 
 to my ideas of that generic personage — rather coarse and blunt. 
 
INTRODUCTIO^^ 3 
 
 but withal very kindly. A young married couple on their 
 wedding tour ; a brother and sister ; a young lady, with her 
 French maid in close attendance upon her : these were our 
 principal compagnons de voyage, if I excej)t a most uncom- 
 panionable-looking lady of imposing stature, who, if she did 
 not look down upon, at least took no other notice of any one. 
 The usual accompaniments of a rough sea and head wind, 
 which, as every one wiU allow, are more personally interesting 
 in experience than in detail, made up the liistory of our 
 twenty hours' passage from Blackwall to the mouth of the 
 Scheldt, where, next morning, Ave came on deck to gaze with 
 some curiosity on the first foreign habitations, albeit these 
 constituted only the poor little town of Flushing. After 
 some five or six weary hours of toiling up the river, we beheld, 
 at length, the venerable towers of Antwerp, which, from the 
 flatness of the country, and the high banks which intersect it, 
 have the aj)pearance, at a distance, of being half-buried, or of 
 growing up from the level plain on which they stand. As 
 we swept round into the Quay of Antwerp, fatigued as I was, 
 I coidd not but be amused at the scene of energetic confusion 
 that speedily prevailed. The water being low, we could not 
 approach any proper pier for landing, and some huge masses 
 of floating timber had to be lashed together before we could 
 leave the vessel. This, for aught I know, may be an incon- 
 venience purposely left unremoved, to prevent passengers 
 making their escape before the douaniers can come upon 
 them. Speedily these worthies appeared on deck, and then 
 confusion became worse confounded, and the bustle almost 
 frantic. For myself, I waited quietly, knowing that my hus- 
 band was getting our passports viseed, and that rushing to 
 and fro, as some seemed doing, in a fever of excitement, would 
 not expedite matters. Meanwhile, my long-cherished dread 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of foreign ciistom-liouses was not relieved by seeing the manner 
 in which some of our companions fared ; yet I soon perceived 
 that some of the officers were rougher than othei"s, and fixing 
 on an old man, I made friendly advances to him, civilly 
 telling him we had nothing contraband, that I was much 
 fatigued with the voyage, and unable to exert myself in re- 
 packing my boxes if they should be pulled about. In short, I 
 quite propitiated the aged official, who, lifting up my dresses 
 most carefully, just peeped in : " Tres bien, tres bien. Made- 
 moiselle, c'est fini ;" ordering all belonging to me to be locked 
 and prepared for his mark. This grand crisis in a traveller's 
 fate being over so much more pleasantly than anticipated, we 
 stepped right gladly upon foreign ground. On the way to the 
 hotel we were at once struck with the great cleanliness of the 
 town, as well as with its wide and well-paved streets ; nor did 
 Antwerp sink in our estimation by our reception at the hotel. 
 The "St. Antoine" is a most comfortable house, with an ex- 
 cellent table-d'hote, where one meets with those desii-able but 
 seldom combined elements of the wayfarer's entertainment — 
 good dinner, good waiting, and a moderate charge. 
 
 Towards evening we sallied forth, to make the best of our 
 short stay, and bent our steps to the Eglise St. Jacques. It 
 is a fine old church. The rich carving and ornaments of the 
 interior are exquisitely finished, and the lofty ceiling of pure 
 white, spangled with gold stars, though pecidiar, has a pleasing 
 efiect there. The great object is the tomb of Rubens, imme- 
 diately behind the high altar. There is an inscription on the 
 tomb, and above, portraits of himself and a number of his 
 relatives. The colouring is rich, and some of the faces are 
 interesting. Placed above the picture is a figure in marble 
 of the Virgin Mary, chosen and brought here by Rubens him- 
 self. There is a small oval picture by Vandyke, which I liked, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 but 110 other struck me. On leaving St. Jacques, we went to 
 the Cathedral, of which the good city is so justly proud. I 
 never before saw anything like the exquisite stone carving of 
 the spire : its tracery, on looking from below, seems to have 
 the delicacy of the finest Brussels lace. The interior is im- 
 posing, and from its simple purity, united with its grandeur, 
 the coup d'oeil is very satisfying. The massive pillars stand 
 alone and unencmnbered, with nothing to mar the symmetiy 
 and beauty of their proportions. 
 
 But the great attraction of the interior we had yet to see, 
 and this was readily confessed when the " Suisse de TEglise" 
 drew aside the curtain which hangs before the great master- 
 piece of Rubens, " The Descent from the Cross." I was much 
 affected as I gazed upon it. There is a more than human 
 expression in the countenance of Jesus, and in that touching 
 resignation which appears in every feature, and which the 
 recent anguish of death has had no power to overcome ! Yet 
 with all this truthfulness of moral expression, death is indel- 
 ibly engraven on eveiy feature and on every limb ! When I 
 could look at the other parts of this glorious picture, the next 
 object which rivetted my attention was the lovely face of the 
 mother of Jesus. A mother's grief is imprinted upon that 
 countenance, which is itself almost as pale as the lifeless fonn 
 she beholds. But there is a subdued and holy calm also in 
 the expression, such as one expects to find. The other two 
 Marys have, each in a varied degree, the same look of sori'owful 
 interest in the scene. Then, as if to shew the artist's power, 
 he has introduced a noble-looking Roman woman, with her 
 babe in her amis, and the same sadness in her face. Still 
 more remarkable is the expression given to an old withered 
 crone, who is supposed to be there to perform the last offices 
 for the dead : she stands still, as though aiTested in the very 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 act of approaching him. One fancies some such feeling has 
 dawned upon her as that which caused the Koman soldier to 
 cry out, " Ti-uly this was the Son of God." The next picture 
 is Kubens's " Elevation of the Cross :" a very fine painting 
 also, but inferior to the other. The " Ascension of Mary" is 
 another of Rubens's clief d'oeuvres, called his "Bouquet;" but 
 though some of the faces have great loveliness, the subject is 
 repugnant to one's feelings. There are fine specimens of 
 painting by Rubens's master, which we saw to great advan- 
 tage, thanks to the intelligence of the " Suisse." Before we 
 left the cathedral we much enjoyed the fine effect of the 
 organ pealing through that vast space and filling it with 
 solemn sounds. 
 
 We returned to the hotel, and after a refreshing cup of 
 cafe au lait, retired to rest. Next morning left by railway for 
 Brussels. The railway carriages are very comfortable, and in 
 every respect equal to our own. The country is quite flat, 
 but pretty and cultivated, and English-looking. The road 
 traverses the village of Berchem, which was the head-quarters 
 of the French general Gerard during the famous siege of 
 Antwerp. It is strange to fancy the peaceful gardens and 
 orchards which now surround it, once the scene of bloodshed 
 and all the horrors of war. Passed Mechhn or Malines, the 
 celebrated lace manufactory ; and, after seeing the old Palace 
 Laeken, where Napoleon decided on his disastrous expedition 
 to Moscow, we reached Brussels. The first view of Brussels 
 is striking. The Boulevards give an air of gaiety to the gity, 
 and the houses seem well built and handsome. We drove to 
 the " Hotel de Flandres," in the Place Royale ; and, after 
 speaking to a civil landlady, were shewn to the pretty, cheerful 
 room in which I am now Avriting, with a large window looking 
 into the Grande Place. The following morning A^sited the 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Cathedral. It is a massive pile of building, very rich, but 
 without the elaborate elegance of Antwerp. Yet the scene 
 on entering was very imposing. The windows of stained glass 
 are beautiful ; and the varied tints cast around had something 
 like enchantment in their effect. On one side the sun shone 
 brightly through, and the reflections of the brilliant colours 
 on the pillars were Uke gems amidst the imaged leaves and 
 flowers. A few yards farther on, and the chief colour from 
 the next window was a blood-red. This cast a sunset radiance 
 on the pure white marble, tinting now a group of kneeling 
 figures, now a statue, and again bringing into light and life 
 the old grey time-worn arches. The whole centre of the vast 
 building was filled with people ; but I could not look at the 
 miserable tinsel figures of the Virgin and the infant Jesus 
 before which they w^ere kneeling ! It was truly a painful 
 sight. 
 
 The Rhine — the beautiful Rhine — is before us ! We have 
 stood beside its banks ; and as I write at tliis moment, I have 
 but to lift my eyes from the paper to behold it in all its 
 glowing beauty. I have determined at least to write a few 
 hues before again going out, in order, if possible, still more 
 vividly to fix this scene in the page of memory. It is one 
 such as I have not hitherto looked upon. A rich mellow 
 tint is cast on the distant wood-clad hills, on the nearer, 
 swelUng meadow lands and studded villages, nestling calm 
 and peaceful among vineyards and poplar groves, while the 
 majestic river sweeps its onward course, making its waves a 
 blessing as they pass ! I fully appreciate at this moment that 
 line in Byron's exquisite description of the Rhine, — 
 
 " There can he no farewell to scene like thine, 
 The mind is coloured by tliy every hue." 
 
 And now havina: as it were traced a mental sketch in these 
 
INTKODUCTION. 
 
 few words, I must return to where I last wrote, and notice 
 some of the passing events of the last two days. 
 
 On leaving Brussels we took oiu' places in the railway to 
 Cologne. For a railway our progress was slow, and the heat 
 and dust almost insufferable. The country to Liege is very un- 
 interesting. At Louvain we caught a glimpse of the beautiful 
 Hotel de Ville, the architectm-e of the richest Gothic. After 
 passing Liege the scenery becomes interesting. The town 
 itself lies in a valley, with villas scattered on the sides of the 
 hills, surrounded by orchards and gardens. The quantity of 
 hops seems a characteristic here ; each house has a large 
 plantation attached of these graceful hanging northern vines. 
 The line passes through the valley of the Vesdre, a riant 
 champaign, with wooded slopes, winding streams, picturesque 
 cottages, and little village churches, with tall spires, looking 
 out from sheltered nooks. It is a rich and varied scene for 
 a railway to pass through ; and it was pecuharly refreshing, 
 amidst the dust and heat and noise, to look out on these 
 smiling homes. At Verviers we had to change carriages, 
 and I shall not soon forget the scene of confusion w^hich 
 ensued. The whole thing is most wretchedly managed : a 
 miserable little room, with one table, on which lay a few stale 
 cakes and biscuits, was all the accommodation and relief for 
 our heat, thirst, and weariness ! Of course it was crammed, 
 so there was no remaining in it. Outside was the alternative 
 of a broiHng sun, clouds of dust and tobacco, combined mth 
 the hissing of steam-engines, and men and women screaming 
 German ! Yet there we had to wait full half an hour before 
 even the carriages were prepared. Then came such rushing 
 and pushing, in the midst of which I was almost laid pros- 
 trate by the elbow of a huge German, with a beard hke a 
 wild beast. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The country continued extremely pretty, all of the same 
 sunny character, with eveiy now and then a glassy river, with 
 wooded banks and shady pools. As the evening advanced it 
 became cool and refreshing. One lady in the carriage was 
 very agreeable, evidently a German, but speaking French 
 well. We had a good deal of conversation on various sub- 
 jects. Amongst other things I found she had lived a good 
 
 deal at Mannheim, and knew dear M quite well. She, 
 
 as well as several others whom I have met with, mentioned 
 her in terms which delighted me, and which I longed for 
 D to hear ! 
 
 We reached Aix-la-Chapelle about seven. It is the first 
 Prussian search, but as we were booked to Cologne we were 
 not examined. We got to Cologne station soon after nine, 
 and were agreeably sui-j)rised with the contrast between the 
 Prussian and Belgian way of conducting matters. The ser- 
 vants civil — no bustle or confusion. The foreign arrange- 
 ments in regard to railway luggage seem veiy good. We 
 were all shewn into a large room, with a railing round a 
 space in the midst, into which all the trunks, bags, and boxes 
 were brought. The number of your luggage ticket, which 
 has been put on each of your boxes at the station where you 
 booked, is then called out by yourself, or given to a porter, 
 and so in turn everything is infallibly deposited at the feet of 
 its owner. I made friends with a very civil Prussian douanier, 
 on whom I practised the device so successful at Antwerp — 
 and he most accommodatingly gesticulated and acquiesced in 
 all I said ; " Bah, c'est ca, bien, bien !" helped to get our 
 things together, and giving us a ticket, declared us free ; and 
 so the second of these dreaded searches was over. I slipped 
 a trifle into tliis man's hand, but not till after all was over, 
 therefore not by way of bribe, but in reward of his civility. 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 A capital omnibus took us to the Hotel Germanie, close to 
 the cathedral, our reason for choosing it. It is a large estab- 
 lishment, but without the little comforts of Antwerp and 
 Brussels ; however we slept well, and found the beds very com- 
 fortable. In the morning, after breakfast, we proceeded to 
 the grand object of interest here. Of any we have yet seen, 
 this cathedral is perhaps the most difficult to describe ; for 
 while all must allow and admire its gorgeous architecture and 
 magnificent internal decorations, I for one was unable to feel 
 its beauty as I did that of the others already noticed. It is 
 in an interesting state at present. After having remained 
 almost a ruin for centuries, the King of Prussia has yearly 
 contributed a large sum towards its restoration and comple- 
 tion. It is difficult to realize what the effect will be of the 
 vast towers which are contemplated to carry out the original 
 plan of the architect. WeU may it be said that when finished 
 it will be the " St. Peter's" of Gothic architecture. The choir 
 is the only part finished : it is a very vision of splendour ! 
 The five painted windows in the north, executed in 1508, 
 with their rich hues and quaint devices, are singularly beau- 
 tiful. The great height, the double range of stupendous 
 buttresses, and the brilliant colouring and gilding all around, 
 produce a wondrous and dazzling effect upon the mind. 
 Some very old paintings have recently been discovered ; one 
 of them in a side chapel bears the date of 1410. The colours 
 are surprisingly vivid, and there is also a peculiar softness 
 which is pleasing ; but the total disregard of perspective in 
 these earliest productions destroys, in a great measure, one's 
 first appreciation of them. 
 
 We next visited the " Shrine of the Three Kings of 
 Cologne." The legend is, that these were the magi who 
 brought presents to our Lord at Bethlehem. Tlie shrine is a 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 large case, the gi'eater part of solid silver gilt, the front of 
 pure gold. The precious stones set in every part of it are 
 enormous ; and though many were taken out at the time of 
 the French Kevolution, and replaced with imitations, still 
 enough remain to give an idea of the immense value of the 
 shrine. It is still estimated to be worth six million francs, 
 about £240,000. The contrast to all these splendid gems is 
 ghastly when you are shewn three skulls, said to have been 
 those of "Gaspar," " Balthazar," and "Melchior," with golden 
 crowns placed around them, and the names inscribed in 
 rubies above each ! Near this strange tomb is a slab of 
 marble, covering the heart of " Mary of Medicis." In the 
 sacristy we were shewn a shrine of richly chased silver, with 
 beautiful bas-reliefs, containing the bones of St. Engelbert, 
 who founded the cathedral, and some exquisite carvings in 
 ivory. A magnificent vase of rock crystal, ornamented with 
 precious stones, and a sword of state of great antiquity, borne 
 by the Electors of Cologne at the coronation of the emperors, 
 are also kept here. In the afternoon started by railway for 
 Bonn. The Royal Hotel here is a sumptuous mansion, with 
 a noble staircase and salon. Our room I have already de- 
 scribed as overlooking a scene of great loveliness. In the 
 cool of the evening we wandered out ; and first passing a 
 part of the celebrated university, went to a garden, at one end 
 of which is a kind of ramj)art, Avith parapets overlooking the 
 river, and from thence we enjoyed again that most beautiful 
 scene, clothed if possible in richer glories by the tints of the 
 setting sun. Having visited the various objects of interest in the 
 town itself, amongst others a noble bronze statue of Beethoven 
 just erected close to the cathedral, we returned heartily tired 
 after such a day. Sorry as we were to say farewell to Bonn, 
 we had to do so next morning at seven, when we stepped on 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 board the steamer for Coblentz. The real Rhine scenery be- 
 gins immediately on leaving Bonn. In a few minutes the 
 castled crag of Drachenfels, " frowning o'er the wide and 
 Avinding Rhine," was before us, and we were gazing on the 
 scene so often pictured by fancy when reading tales connected 
 with it. 
 
 " The frequent feudal towers 
 Through green leaves lift their walls of grey, 
 Looking o'er this vale of vintage bowers." 
 
 One which is particularly beautiful, and also interesting from 
 its romantic story, is the " noble arch, in proud decay," of 
 Rolandseck. It looks down on the Convent of Nonnenwerth, 
 where Roland's betrothed bride was immured, whilst he lived 
 a lonely hermit in the castle. The convent is now a hotel, 
 but most picturesque in its situation and external appearance. 
 The road becomes visible here as it winds along the banks. 
 Its foundations were laid by the Romans, so that as early as 
 A.D. 161, there was a road here. It would be tedious were I 
 to describe in succession the lovely points of view which each 
 moment revealed, but one or two I cannot pass without some 
 notice. The situation of the castle of Rheineck is one of the 
 most striking. On a pei-jiendicular rock of great height, 
 wooded from the base of the castle to the banks of the river, 
 it stands in venerable grandeur. Just after passing it, is 
 the last view of the Drachenfels, with its bold craggy outline 
 in the blue distance — Rheineck in the bright foreground, and 
 the graceful bend of the river as it sweeps away from you. 
 There is not a more beautiful combination of picturesque 
 objects on the whole of the Rhine than at this spot. " An- 
 dernach" is a quaint old town, reniarka})le for two singular 
 quarries of stone ; but after passing it there is no peculiar 
 beauty in the scenery until near " Coblentz " where it seems to 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 burst afresh upon you. We had made acquaintance during 
 the day with a nice English girl and her brother, who landed 
 with us at Coblentz. 
 
 The Hotel dii Geant, from which I now write, had been re- 
 commended to both parties. It is on a gigantic scale certainly ; 
 an excellent table-d'hote, with a capital band i)laying whilst 
 we dined. Our private room, however, is on the ground-floor, 
 so we have all the noise with none of the view of the river. 
 In the cool of the evening we hired a fiacre, and drove to the 
 Chartreuse. Passing through the town, and a part of the 
 extensive fortifications, we reached the Forts of Constantino 
 and Alexander. The size and height of these forts, situated 
 on lofty rocks, are immense. The view, as we ascended the 
 Chartreuse, became more and more magnificent. Ehren- 
 breitstein, the " Gibraltar of the Rhine," is the grandest 
 featm'e. On the one side is the magnificent Rhine, flowing 
 calmly on, and at your very feet the blue sparkling MoseUe, 
 which joins the Rhine at the base of the Chartreuse. How 
 intensely I enjoyed that evening's drive ! 
 
 We started next morning at nine o'clock, and were soon 
 rapidly losing sight of Ehrenbreitstein, Stolzenfels, and the 
 other beautiful features of the landscape around Coblentz. 
 The character of the scenery here entirely changes. Instead 
 of the sunny slopes, smiUng meadows, and hanging vineyards, 
 which hitherto had given such softness of beauty to the banks 
 of the river, the mountains close in upon it, and you appear 
 to be suddenly transported into a narrow defile ; black pre- 
 cipitous rocks cast their shadows on the water, and frowning 
 castles rear their sombre masses against the sky, carrying the 
 mind back to feudal times and barbarous ages. One of the 
 very finest scenes I have yet beheld was soon after leaving 
 Braidiach. There is a small town with a chateau at the 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 water's side. It stands at the foot of a high conical-shaped 
 rock, and on this rock is the noble castle of Marksburg, the 
 most perfect on the Khine. It is the very heau ideal of an 
 old castle, with its battlements and loopholes, and walls which 
 seem as though nought but the ivy could scale them. Another 
 sweep of the river brought into view a pretty village embo- 
 somed in trees. There are white cottages nestling beneath 
 their shade, while a tall church spire shoots above them. 
 Just as we were passing, the brightest sunshine glowed upon 
 this village — upon its meadows stretching to the water's edge, 
 and upon the w^ooded bank opposite ; yet leaving the old 
 castle in the deepest shade. At the same moment another 
 gleam of light feU on the mountains behind the height of 
 Marksburg, so that aU was light, save the dark old ruin itself, 
 and the rugged rock on which it stands. It was one of those 
 exquisite pictures, with a combination of everything to make 
 it perfect, one sometimes for a moment meets with. The 
 next place of much interest is St. Goar, overhung by the 
 vast fortress of Kheinfels. It is of great extent, but quite in 
 ruins. Here we had to part with our pleasant travelling- 
 companions — the brother and sister already mentioned, who 
 landed at St. Goar to see Rheinfels, and were then to go to 
 Wiesbaden. The scenery continues most striking after leav- 
 ing St. Goar, the rocks so wild and precipitous, closing in 
 on both sides of the stream. One part has quite an a^\^ul 
 character. On either hand are these black rocky barriers ; 
 beneath one bank is a dark whirlpool, and by the other a 
 rapid, formed by the stream dashing over sunken rocks, and 
 ^Adth a force increased by the narrowness of its bed. At the 
 village of Caub is the spot where Bliicher crossed the Rhine 
 with his army on new year's night, 1814. It was on coming 
 in sight of it that his soldiers burst forth into one simultane- 
 
INTKODUCTION. 15 
 
 ous cry, " The Rhine — the Rhine !" and truly one does not 
 wonder that this bounteous and beautiful river should have 
 been through all ages such an object of reverence, as well as 
 affection, to the Germans, 
 
 The castle of Rheinstein next attracted our notice. It 
 stands on a projecting ledge of rock, with masses of rich wood 
 behind and around it. This castle has been restored and 
 beautifully fitted up as a modern residence. Opposite Rhein- 
 stein is the village of Assmanshausen, which gives its name 
 to the famous Rhine wine. It is strange to see the vine- 
 yards reaching to the very tops of what might be thought 
 inaccessible heights, on narrow ledges of rock, hke successive 
 terraces cut in the mountain. The vine-dressers are forced to 
 scale the face of the rocks sometimes by ropes, and also to 
 carry up a great part of the soil in baskets on their shoulders. 
 The value of these grapes here is so great, that even those 
 that drop are picked up with forks made for the purpose. 
 They hang very long, the vintage not beginning until Novem- 
 ber. I got all my information on this subject, as well as about 
 the places on the Rhine, from a remarkably pleasing young 
 man who was escorting his mother, an old infirm lady. To 
 her I happened to have rendered some httle assistance, which 
 seemed to gratify her son, who, in return, was extremely kind, 
 explaining every thing as we went along, and lending me 
 sundry books and maps. We had a great deal of conversa- 
 tion after dinner, discussing various subjects. I remained 
 sitting by the old lady whilst her son was w^alking about ; so 
 that I was not far from them when he returned with an old 
 veteran officer, saying to his mother he had met with a 
 friend of hers. To my surprise the old gentleman bent his 
 knee before her, and kissing her hand said, " J'ai Thonneur de 
 saluer Madame la Duchesse." In the course of conversation 
 
10 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 some little time after, I happened to ask, to whom belonged 
 a magnificent palace we saw, " Ah ! c'est a mon cousin le 
 Prince de Nassau." After a little Avhile he pointed out a 
 building in the distance, saying, " C'est le palais de mon frere 
 le Due regnant de" . , . . I could not catch the name, 
 from my ignorance of Grerman. He announced to me that he 
 was married to the most charming woman in the world, and 
 that he loved all English people for her sake. There was 
 much that w^as very pleasing about him. His manners frank, 
 kindly, and unaifected. As we drew near Biberich, the cha- 
 teau of the Duke of Nassau, he told me they were to land 
 there, and as we had discovered that we had some mutual 
 acquaintances, both he and his mother invited us in the 
 kindest manner to come and see them. We had a most 
 friendly parting. Madame la Duchesse overwhelmed us with 
 
 good wishes, and M. le Prince G requested that we 
 
 might exchange cards as a little remembrance of our meeting. 
 We reached Mayence about half-past six, and went imme- 
 diately to the pleasant and quiet Hotel de Hesse. In the 
 evening walked out by moonhght, merely to breathe the fresh 
 air, for it was too late to see anything of the town. The 
 sceneiy above Mayence is monotonous and uninteresting ; so 
 I occupied myself on deck next morning writing letters till 
 dinner-time. We had a quick i)assage, getting to Mannheim 
 in about six hours. Leaving our luggage on landing, at the 
 station, we at once proceeded to find the palace. It was veiy 
 
 interesting to me to see the place where D was married, 
 
 and of which I have heard so much. It is a fine building, 
 and though not distinguished for beauty of architecture, is 
 imposing from its size and situation. The grounds and ter- 
 races are tastefully laid out, and there is a very fine distant 
 view of the Vosges Mountains. I picked a rose from one of 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 the flower-beds, to keep as a memeilto of my having visited 
 
 M 's home ! We returned in time for the last train to 
 
 Heidelberg, which we reached in about half-an-hour. After 
 tea we wandered out, and crossed the beautiful bridge which 
 spans the Neckar, immediately behind Heidelberg. The air 
 was balmy and dehcious, and as the dim twilight closed in, 
 we were much struck with the scene on looking back. The 
 wooded mountain which forms the fine background of the 
 town, lay with an outline sharply defined against the clear 
 sky, while the moon, which was just rising behind it, cast all 
 in front into a gloom, rendered only the deeper by the many 
 twinkling lights running in lines here and there along 
 invisible streets. Immediately before us, placed upon the 
 ends of the bridge, were tall sculptured figures, rising still 
 and solemn into the silvery moonbeams which now fell on the 
 upper portion of their forms. Beyond these was the massive 
 arch of the gateway, through which we had passed beyond 
 the walls, and the sombre roof of the old cathedral rising 
 above it. We had come here in hope of getting a moonlight 
 glimpse of the old castle, but could do nothing more than 
 imagine where it might be, amid the dark shadows of the 
 overhanging mountains. Our ramble, notwithstanding, was 
 a very pleasant one. 
 
 We were early astir next morning, impatient to visit the 
 magnificent castle. Such a carriage-road as that leading to 
 it I never beheld. Looking from the bottom its steepness 
 seems almost impracticable even for bipeds. How the two 
 quadrupeds in our carriage contrived to scramble up I know 
 not, being too nervous to open my eyes till the summit was 
 reached. But I speedily had to confess that the object gained 
 might reconcile one to much greater perils. We went all 
 over this noble and most impressive ruin. The guide pointed 
 
 B 
 
18 INTRODTTCTION. 
 
 out the part built by Frederick IV., 1607, in the fa9ade of 
 which are ancestral statues of the reigning house of Bavaria. 
 Then the building of Otho Henry, 1549-59, the finest part of 
 the castle. Here the architecture is beautiful, and the sculp- 
 ture very rich. The Octagon Tower lies in ponderous ruined 
 masses, occasioned by the stroke of lightning, which indeed 
 finally destroyed the castle in 1764. The date of the erection 
 of the oldest part of the building is 1300, by the Elector 
 Kudoph, whose statue is still to be seen. The English build- 
 ing and gate were both erected in 1612, for our Princess 
 Elizabeth Stuart, (daughter of James I., and grand-daughter, 
 of com-se, of Mary Queen of Scots,) by her husband. Elector 
 Frederick. I remember when at Burley, reading a very inter- 
 esting memoir of this Princess, and many parts of it were 
 recalled as I marked the home she describes ; particidarly 
 the trimnphal arch leading to her own flower-garden, with its 
 pillars twined with sculptured ivy leaves, which was built to 
 commemorate her marriage. There seems to have been a good 
 deal of ambition, as well as strength of character, in this 
 Princess. When her husband hesitated to accept the Crown 
 of Bohemia, her reply is said to have been — " Let me rather 
 eat dry bread at the table of a king, than feast at that of an 
 Elector" — and she had literally to do so before she died. 
 
 There is part of a tower remaining, built by Elector Louis, 
 of which the walls are twenty-two feet thick. It was destroyed 
 in the last bombardment by the French, under ChamiUy, whose 
 brutality was atrocious. The fimous tun, the largest wine 
 butt in the world, is in the cellar below, but ha\dng no 
 curiosity about this Bacchanahan marvel, we preferred wan- 
 dering through the lovely woods and grounds. One view 
 from the terrace, overhanging the river, was vividly impressed 
 on my memory. The Neckar flows forth from its vine-clad 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1<J 
 
 valley, to fertilize the spreading plain, which opens to the 
 south. In the distance is the noble Rhine, with the spires of 
 Mannheim, and the castle of Baden ; and even the spire of 
 the cathedral at Strasbourg, it is said, may at times be seen. 
 The whole landscape is bounded by the outline of the Vosges 
 Mountains. The last moment we could spare was spent in 
 re-viewing this rich and varied expanse, and then returning 
 to the hotel, we left by railway for Strasbourg. Our passports 
 were viseed, and our luggage examined on the German side of 
 the Rhine at Kehl, and then crossing we found ourselves 
 upon French ground, in tolerably comfortable quarters in 
 the " Ville de Paris," Strasbourg. 
 
 During a stay of three days we had abundant time to 
 admire the various objects of interest in the town. Chief 
 among these is, of course, the cathedral ; its spire the loftiest 
 in the world, and its painted windows I should suppose among 
 the finest. Then the wonderfid clock, with its complicated 
 automata, that used to excite the imagination of oiu- child- 
 hood, even in the pages of the old familiar school-book, was 
 duly examined too. A beautiful monument erected by Louis 
 XV., to the memory of Marechal Saxe, is well placed in the 
 nave of the church of St. Thomas, now used by a Protestant 
 congregation. The noble figure of the Marechal is the first 
 object on which the eye fixes. In full armour, his head 
 crowned with laurels, and his baton in one hand, he is calmly 
 descending the steps which lead to a tomb. A figure of 
 death is holding open this tomb, whilst with the other hand 
 he presents an hour-glass. The exalted expression witli 
 which he seems to return the ghastly look of the hideous 
 foiTii is admirable. At the feet of the Marechal, on a lower 
 step, is the figure of a beautiful woman representing France : 
 with one arm raised she tries to prevent liis stepping forward, 
 
20 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 and with the other to avert tlie approach of the last enemy. 
 In some things this reminded me of the monument to Lady 
 Nightingale in Westminster Abbey, but I think there is 
 more truth and beauty in this. 
 
 The country between Strasbourg and Basle, which we 
 traversed by railway, is flat, but richly cultivated ; large 
 plantations of flax, with vineyards here and there, and pic- 
 turesque villages, suiTounded by groups of tall poplars. It 
 rained heavily the latter part of the way, which obscured the 
 distant views. Arrived at Basle we took up our abode at the 
 magnificent hotel of "Les Trois Rois." This is a perfect estab- 
 lishment in every respect. We have a very pretty room with a 
 balcony overhanging the Rhine, which washes the base of the 
 walls below. Certainly the contrast between the gentle mur- 
 mur of the river, and the trampling of horses, and jabbering 
 of the men in that dingy court-yard into which our room 
 looked at Strasbourg, is not a little delightful ! Our first 
 anxious care in the morning was to inquire about a vet- 
 tiirino, under whose auspices we purpose henceforth to pursue 
 our pilgrimage towards Italy. Having sent for the landlord 
 to consult with him on a matter on which so much of our 
 future comfort depended, he was able to recommend one so 
 decidedly, that we thought ourselves fortunate in having 
 such a promising specimen of a very exceptionable brother- 
 hood put within our reach. Accordingly, we determined to 
 engage him, and to his honour be it here recorded, that 
 during the many weeks we travelled with him, never once 
 had we cause to regret our choice of Ferdinando Pancresi, a 
 native of Leghorn. There is not much to be visited in the 
 way of "sights" in Basle. The ancient cloisters of the cathe- 
 dral are interesting, and the views from the terrace in front 
 fine. In the public museum we saw, I imagine, some of the 
 
INTKODUCTION. 21 
 
 best of Holbein's pictures, certainly the best I have ever met 
 with. He is not to me a pleasing painter, for even when 
 his execution is good, and his colouring rich, his conception, 
 and often his choice of subjects, are disagreeable. Almost the 
 only one of his pictures that really interested me is a portrait 
 of the first printer in Basle, and this I must own is as hfe- 
 like a painting as art could produce. We looked with much 
 interest on the autographs of Luther and Melancthon. Several 
 letters from each, of considerable length, are here preserved. 
 
 Next morning we were off soon after eight. Our vet- 
 turino's carriage was a comfortable easy barouche, large 
 enough for convenience without being heavy, and he himself 
 most attentive. A brilliant morning dawning auspiciously 
 on our outset, our spirits rose to think that we were really on 
 the way to Geneva and the Alps ! The whole of this day's 
 journey lay through picturesque and often highly romantic 
 scenery. A succession of sweet secluded valleys, now closed 
 in by rocky heights, fringed with wild wood to the top — now 
 opening out in little meadows, green as emeralds, and ena- 
 melled with gay wild flowers. Villages and churches now 
 and then, as if planted for effect, in the very best points of 
 the picture. The roads here, as indeed in most parts of Swit- 
 zerland, are lined with apple and other fruit-trees, which, 
 laden as they now were with their golden treasures, gave an 
 air of richness and plenty to the scene. Some time after 
 leaving the sweet village of Waldenburg, where we had made 
 our first halt, we entered the romantic defile of Klus. The 
 valley stiU lies in smiling loveliness beneath, but the rocks 
 are darker and closer, and on one side rises a grey nun, the 
 castle of Falkenstein, pinnacled upon the rocky mountains, 
 and appealing to imagination with its memories of the past, 
 amid the gay lovehness of the present. Just as we were 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 emerging from the narrow defile where tlie country again 
 
 opens in wider expanse, W exclaimed, " The Alps — the 
 
 Alps I" and there they were, in the far distance — their ghtter- 
 ing peaks shooting up distinct and clear into the soft evening 
 air, a few dehcate streaks of snowy clouds resting across their 
 summits. Every one who has seen them will recollect the sen- 
 sation pecuHar to that moment in which the Alps first burst 
 upon one's view. I believe no words could enable those who 
 have not seen them to comprehend it. For myself, such was 
 my deep experience of tliis, that on reaching Soleure that even- 
 ing, I felt I was closing an eventful day of my pilgrimage. 
 
 The country we passed through next day was richly wooded 
 and cultivated, but not particularly striking till close upon 
 Berne. A fine avenue of trees skirts the road for two or 
 three miles, and then you reach a long and well-managed 
 descent to this most picturesque city. The river Aar flows 
 through a deep ravine, with very precipitous sides ; and on the 
 top of a promontory, formed by a sudden bend in its course, 
 the city stands. A lofty bridge has been thrown across the 
 bed of the river. We drove to a nice quiet inn, " La Cou- 
 ronne," whose landlord was well known to our vetturino. 
 
 Berne has a history full of stirring incident both past and 
 recent, Avhich it is interesting to recall on the spot, but it has 
 httle for the traveller to visit. The cathedral is by no means 
 beautiful in itself, but the view from the platform around it 
 is grand indeed. The valley of the Aar winding at yom- 
 feet — the rapid rush of the river itself, its waters of that pecu- 
 liar pale green tinge which shews their origin to be among 
 the Alpine snows ; then, far above the rocky hills which close 
 the city round, the snowy chain of Alps soaring into the sky. 
 
 We resmned our journey in the afternoon, reaching Fri- 
 bourg about half-past seven — too dark to distinguish much of 
 
INTKODVTCTION. 
 
 that wonderful work of art, the Suspension Bridge, which 
 leads into the town. The darkness, however, occasioned a 
 peculiar effect in crossing it. This immense bridge spans the 
 valley at a height of more than two hundred feet, and by an 
 unbroken stretch of nine hundred. Part of the town hes in 
 this valley, and as the stars were t\\dnkling over head in 
 the sky, and the lights below like other stars shining from 
 beneath, but for the crack of Ferdinando's whip, and other 
 equally terrestrial accompaniments, we might have fancied 
 ourselves moving among the spheres ! Next morning shewed 
 this wondrous bridge in another strange aspect. Standing 
 on the terrace from which it springs, the sweeping curve 
 was lost to the sight in a dense fog about half way across 
 the valley, thus hiding its seemingly interminable length 
 in distant space. The peculiarity which distinguishes this 
 beautiful work of art from its no less beautiful rival, the 
 Menai Bridge, is not only its greater length and height, but 
 also its construction. The chains which support the latter 
 are composed of solid bars of iron, while in the former these 
 are constructed of bundles of wires laid length ways and bound 
 together : which, upon mechanical principles, secures the 
 greatest amount of strength, let the initiated determine. 
 
 This day's route, characterized throughout by a succession 
 of beautifid scenery, brought us in the afternoon to the Uttle 
 village of Chatelle St. Denis, where, stopping to refresh the 
 horses, we w^andered onwards on foot, first visiting the church- 
 yard, — a lovely spot, with flowers planted on all the graves, 
 and a little wooden cross placed at the head of each. Con- 
 tinuing our walk, we ascended a green sloping bank, and 
 from thence looked down a rapidly descending grassy slope, 
 abruptly terminated by the deep channel of a Mnld dashing 
 torrent forcing its way through rocks and stones, noAv hid by 
 
24 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 the large masses of trees on its verge, now dancing along 
 brightly and gaily in the sunlight. On the opposite bank the 
 rocks rose perj)endicular for many feet, covered with hanging 
 festoons of creeping plants and tufted brushwood ; and then the 
 surface sloped back into a rich greensward above, with woods and 
 httle cottages peeping from them ; whilst, higher still, black 
 savage crags seemed to frown on the sunny landscape below. 
 
 Amid such scenes we wandered on awhile in much enjoy- 
 ment. I had advanced alone a few paces, and a sudden 
 turn round a projecting part of the road brought me in 
 sight of — " The Lake — the Lake ! " It was now my turn to 
 
 call out to W ; and there, seen through an opening 
 
 between two hills, lay, like a vast plain of burnished gold, in 
 the evening sunbeams, the beauteous Lake of Geneva ! Be- 
 yond towered the highest peaks we have yet seen of the Alps, 
 It was, in ti-uth, some little time ere I could reahze it was a 
 mountain that I looked on, and thought it must be a bank 
 of white clouds. Oh that my pen had power to pourtray 
 the scene wliich a few minutes later burst upon us ! The sky 
 above was cloudless, a very flood of light poured upon the 
 lower part of the valley, while a mist hung on some of the 
 rocky mountains which close it in, as though loath to leave a 
 scene so ttiir. Then, again, it seemed drawn hke a belt across 
 the gigantic mountain, while, far above it, soared the snowy 
 peak, towering in cahn sublimity toward heaven, — and far, 
 far beneath lay the clear and placid Leman ! As we gazed 
 entranced, and with thoughts almost too deep for utterance, 
 the sun gradually cast a hue of radiance over rock and wood 
 and valley, resting on them, one by one, for a brief moment, 
 as if to say good night ; and then — long after all else had 
 passed into shade — a bright roseate hue threw its halo on the 
 snow-capped mountain. As we looked, another and another 
 
INTKODUCTIOX. 25 
 
 distant summit, till now unseen, had caught the parting ray, 
 and glowed with the same intense colouring ! For some 
 bright moments this exquisite scene continued : then passed 
 away, and left the awful heights in cold and stern grandeur. 
 We wound our way, with vineyards on either side, for several 
 miles before entering Vevay, having been most fortunate in 
 the hour of our reaching the heights above, and got to this 
 quiet and most comfortable hotel about seven o'clock, 
 
 Vevay, September. — Here we are at one of those spots I have 
 heard so much of and longed to see ever since I learnt to love 
 the sight of Nature's majesty and lovehness. Long shall I 
 remember the Sunday we have spent here. After reading in 
 the morning, we went to the lake and stood beside its deep blue 
 waters ripphng in the gentle breeze and brilliant sunshine. In 
 truth, it is a fitting gem for such a shrine ; and for those moun- 
 tains this lake alone is worthy to be the mirror ! About two 
 o'clock we went to the Protestant Chm-ch. After cHmbing 
 by a winding lane up a steep hill, we reached the fine old 
 building, embosomed in venerable chestnuts, and looking 
 down upon the loveliest part of the lake, with the gigantic 
 " Dent de Midi " directly opposite. A fhght of steps leads to 
 the platform, in the centre of which stands the chm'ch. Seats 
 are placed all along under the trees, and here we sat and 
 watched the gathering together of the people, — the peasants 
 all wearing their broad-brimmed hats and pictm-esque costume. 
 After a while we entered. It is a large old church, with a 
 remarkably good organ. We had seats near the pulpit, and 
 were indeed delighted with the whole service. The minister 
 was an intellectual looking man, with an admirable manner, 
 musical voice, and clear pronunciation. His prayer was 
 beautiful. He gave out a psalm in the manner of the Scotch 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Church service, which was sung most pleasingly : the deep 
 mellow notes of the organ leading the congregation, for every 
 one seemed to join. After the singing, the text, which was 
 from the Psalms, was given out ; and then, in pure, simple, 
 forcible language, he gave an admirable sermon. Every word 
 seemed to come from his heart, and was well calculated to 
 reach the hearts of others. It was a sermon to be felt as well as 
 admired. Pecuharly dehghtful, too, it was to listen to such an 
 one in a foreign land, in a foreign tongue, and to see so many 
 hundreds all dwelling intently on these faithful words. The 
 prayer and psalm after the sermon were equally solemn and 
 devotional ; and then I was so reminded of Scotland, and of 
 my own dear home, when the minister stood up with his arms 
 raised in the peculiarly impressive manner of the Church of 
 Scotland, and pronounced the blessing. Often will memory 
 recall that pastor and his people in the church at lovely 
 Vevay ; and sometimes a prayer will ascend especially for them 
 when "all churches" are mentioned in our own land. We 
 walked round the church, and saw the tombs of Ludlow the 
 regicide, and of Broughton, who read the sentence of death to 
 Charles I. They died here in obscurity and in exile. After 
 again enjoying the view from the platform we went down to 
 the shore, and there sat and listened to the music of the 
 murmuring waves gently rippKng on the beach. The quiet 
 bark skimming the liquid mirror with noiseless wing passed 
 and repassed us, the gracefid outline of its hull visible even 
 under the surface of the clear blue water, while, in the sunset 
 glow, the suspended oar seemed to be distilling drops of molten 
 gold from its glittering blade. It was an evening 
 
 " Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, 
 But hath a part of being, and a sense 
 Of that which i.s of all — Creator and Defence." 
 
IXTROUUCTION. 
 
 We had intended to start early next morning, but being 
 delayed several hours by something connected with those 
 tiresome passports, we hired a boat and went upon the lake. 
 There was "more motion than I expected, or hked, so I believe 
 in this, the greatest enjoyment to me was in the idea ! How- 
 ever, we had a lovely view of Vevay, also of Gingough oppo- 
 site, and Meilleiie immortalized by Rousseau. 
 
 By the time we landed, the passports were forthcoming, so 
 that we recommenced our journey. The road winds along 
 the shores of the lake, through avenues of large chesnut 
 trees, with clustering vines, luxuriant flowers, and peaceful 
 little cottages. I was continually reminded of the scenes so 
 early imprinted on my memory in " Pierre and his Family," 
 a favourite tale of my childhood. In many a little white 
 cottage, with trellised vine leaves, beneath the shade of a 
 spreading chesnut, I pictured to myself the fondly cherished 
 home of the Vaudois family. We passed " Clarens," so ex- 
 quisitely described in Childe Harold : then " Montreux," even 
 more beautifully situated : and very shortly stopped at the 
 gate of the '^ Castle of Chillon." A remarkably intelligent 
 Swiss girl conducted us to the various places of interest. 
 Here, then, I actually stood on that spot whose associations 
 had so impressed my imagination. We entered the dark 
 vault " below the surface of the lake :" we counted the " seven 
 columns deep and old," 
 
 " Dim with a dull imprisoneil ray, 
 A sunbeam which hath lost its way. 
 And through the crevice and the cleft 
 Of a thick wall is fallen and left, 
 Creeping o'er the floor so damp, 
 Like a marsh's meteor lamp." 
 
 On the third column Byron's name is engraved by his own 
 
28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 hand, and passing onwards we came to Bonnivard's pillar. 
 It makes the blood run cold to see the very ring which fast- 
 ened a fellow-creature to the huge stone column, hke a wild 
 beast — ^to stand on the very stone worn to some depth by the 
 constant pacing of the unhappy man for six long weary years ! 
 Three steps were all that he coidd take, and this living death 
 was inflicted by his fellow-men ! 
 
 " Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, 
 And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod 
 Until his very steps have left a trace, 
 Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod, 
 By Bonnivard ! IMay none those marks efface, 
 For they appeal ft-om tyranny to God ! " ' 
 
 The death of his two brothers in this living tomb adds almost 
 a deeper melancholy to the mournful place. The only ray of 
 comfort is the recollection, that, on the victory gained by the 
 Canton, he was not only himself liberated but found his 
 beloved country free. We saw some other places of torture, 
 but they are too horrible to dwell upon. I could not help 
 remarking to our httle guide how thankful we should be that 
 our lives were cast in such peaceful times, and that we should 
 pray to Grod long to spare us from the power of a rehgion 
 that could inflict tortures like these upon its opponents. She 
 assented with much earnestness and apparent feehng. Con- 
 tinuing our way we passed 
 
 " The little isle, 
 Which in my very face did smile, 
 The only one in view," 
 
 and entered the valley of the Khone. Evening brought us to 
 Bex. I walked to the windows of our room wliilst waiting 
 for such preparations for tea as the place aiforded, and there 
 80 near as almost to cast its giant shadow on me, rose the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 29 
 
 mighty " Dent de Midi !" It was one of those impressions 
 which seem, one scarce knows why, to linger in the mind ; 
 and often has that dark mountain risen np before me when 
 brighter scenes have been unthought of Having got up 
 early next morning, I was rewarded by seeing the sun rise on 
 the stupendous heights all around the little village. First 
 one snowy peak and then another was bathed in the golden 
 beams of the brealdng day. The sceneiy became Avilder and 
 more grand as we penetrated into the bosom of the pass. 
 At one part where the valley suddenly narrows, is the re- 
 markable bridge over whose arch " a key unlocks a kingdom." 
 This is at St. Maurice, a small place, strongly fortified, being 
 the frontier town between the Canton de Vaud and the 
 Canton of the Vallais. We were delayed on the bridge to 
 shew our passports and pay the frontier duty, in the very best 
 position for seeing the j)ecidiar features of the strange wild 
 scene. The bridge is literally supported by the base of the 
 " Dent de Morcles" on one side, and on the other by that of 
 the " Dent de Midi," whose bold rocks project so far as 
 scarcely to leave room for the river which rushes impetuously 
 in its narrow bed. An old castle crowns a precipitous .crag 
 above, and in the naiTowest part of the defile are the fortifica- 
 tions on either side. For hours we travelled on, walled in by 
 these stupendous mountains, assuming different forms at 
 every tiirn. At a few miles' distance from Maurice are yet 
 visible the awful and desolating effects of a torrent of mud, 
 as it is well termed, which descended, in 1835, from the sides 
 of the " Dent de Midi" into the valley. It forced a passage for 
 itself through the pine forest, snapping the largest trees like 
 twigs. The high road was covered for 900 feet, and fields 
 and houses were overwhelmed by it. We saw, still lying on 
 the top of the debris, enormous blocks of limestone of many 
 
30 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tons' weight, which had floated hke corks on the surface of the 
 resistless avalanche, A fine object in this part of our journey 
 was the waterfall of Sallenche, which descends into the valley 
 of the Ehone from a narrow black ravine. Its height is 280 
 feet, but the last part of the fall is not more than 120. It is 
 a fine body of water, and the spray is bright and beautiful in 
 the summer sun, Martigny was our mid-day resting-place, a 
 spot so lovely we could well content have there pitched our 
 tabernacle for a time, but we had not even a day to spare ; and 
 after exchanging many a friendly salutation with the peasants, 
 whose kindly " Bonjour, bien, bien, bonjour !" was given with 
 a pleasant smile as they passed, we were again en route, 
 reaching the " Hotel du Lion d'Or," at Sion, early in the 
 evening. W — — walked out : I having sprained my ankle, 
 coidd not accompany him, and therefore occupy myself in 
 bringing up my Journal to this point. It seems like a dream 
 to fancy that ere I write in it again, we shaU have crossed the 
 mighty Alps ! 
 
 Milan, Monday. — Is it even so, that we have witnessed 
 those unequalled scenes, and have been in the very bosom of 
 the Alps ? But I must continue from where I left off the 
 day before we got to Brieg. We were off from Sion by seven, 
 I was particularly struck with the situation of many of the 
 villages scattered on the mountain's side, at a height so ex- 
 traordinary, one marvels how the inhabitants have access to 
 their eagle's nests ! Close to Tourtemagne, a pretty little town, 
 is a fine waterfall : a romantic walk through lanes, overhung 
 wdth fruit trees, leads to it from the inn, and you hear the 
 roaring of the water before it comes in sight. In the centre of 
 a huge basin of rocks is the fall. It is not so high as the 
 Sallenche, but a larger body of water, falling in a most graceful 
 
INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 curve, wliile the spray, glittering with a thousand colours in 
 the sun's rays, is cast to a great distance. But its greatest 
 charm is in situation — the only life-hke thing amid those barren 
 rocks. Just before reaching the narrow turn to it, is a little 
 cottage, from whence a nice looking young woman brought 
 a plank of wood to put across a rivulet that must be passed ; 
 and on our return, as we had no silver, she sent a child, a 
 little toddUng thing, about four years old, with us to bring some 
 back. She was a pretty little flaxen-haired girl, and looking 
 up in my face with a smile, she put her httle hand in mine 
 ^vith entire satisfaction. She could not understand a word of 
 my French, but she smiled in reply as she trotted by my side 
 with her wooden sabots, and in her funny little Swiss dress. 
 
 At two o'clock we left Tourtemagne, and proceeded on our 
 way to Brieg — every now and then passing through scenes 
 of desolation, caused by avalanches of mud and stone, and 
 the consequent rise of the river. For miles together the 
 bridges had been swept away, and the trees laid prostrate ; 
 and on both sides of the road immense piles of stones and 
 rocks are heaped up which have been removed from it. Not 
 long after we left Tourtemagne it began to rain, giving us 
 some fears for the eventful morrow. As we approached Brieg, 
 Ferdinando pointed out, amid the dark mountains, the route 
 we were to take next day. It seemed truly as if we were to 
 pierce the clouds. We reached Brieg early : a dirty gloomy 
 hotel, the "Poste," in a narrow dark street. The rooms com- 
 fortless in a special degree, so that I listened with a feeling 
 akin to despair to Ferdinando's account of some who had 
 been detained, even days, in this wretched hamlet, by weather 
 unpropitious for crossing the mountains. It would be diffi- 
 crdt to say how often I got up through the first part of the 
 night to ascertain, if possible, what our fate was to be ! 
 
32 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Before daylight Ferdinando knocked at the door with the 
 joyful intelligence that there was no rain, and by five o'clock 
 we had actually commencjed our long anticipated passage of 
 the Simplon. The four horses slowly dragged the light car- 
 riage up the steep ascent, which commences, in fact, from the 
 very door of the hotel, so slowly at some parts that we 
 scarcely felt we were mo\dng. The surface of the road is 
 very excellent, every^vhere thirty feet wide, and with sharp 
 high stones at a few yards' distance from each other as a kind 
 of parapet. Soon after leaving Brieg the road makes a wide 
 sweep, turning away from the Glytzhorn towards the Breit- 
 horn, and passing by the side of a wooded hill, on the top of 
 which is a chapel, and a string of little white shrines called a 
 Calvary. It then again approaches the side of a precipice 
 overhanging the gorge of the Saltine. The effect of this 
 j)lace was, in some respects, heightened to us by the mist 
 which hung in masses over great parts of the perpendicular 
 sides, so densely that it was only here and there we could 
 catch a glimpse of the immense depth below, with the torrent 
 of the Saltine at the bottom. We seemed to be gazing into 
 a fathomless abyss, and the sound of roaring waters, which we 
 could not see, gave a mysterious awe to the feelings with 
 which we looked down. Never shall I forget the first sight 
 of the glaciers, far, far above our heads, as, clear and bright 
 in the morning sun, they pierced the blue sky above the 
 vapoury clouds that hung around them. How incredible 
 seemed the idea, that ere mid-day we shoidd be at the very 
 feet of those dazzling pyramids of ice and snow ! Upwards 
 we slowly crept, some new beauty opening at every instant. 
 The road bends round the valley of the Ganther until it 
 crosses the Saltine by a lofty bridge called " Pont du Granther." 
 This part of the mid ravine is subject to avalanches every 
 
INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 wintar ; th(3 bridge is therefore peculiarly constructed, so as 
 to give as little resistance as possible to their fury. After 
 passing this bridge, the road by many zig-zags reaches Beresal, 
 the first refuge. Here the horses rested, and we procured for 
 ourselves a second breakfast of bread and milk, for which the 
 keen mountain air had fully prepared us, and then walked 
 on. It was to me a strange new feeling to be wandering 
 thus alone in such a place. Mountains on mountains above 
 and around, forests of pine trees, rocks and furious torrents, 
 and a few goats our only living companions ! The first 
 gallery or artificial passage cut in the face of a precipice is 
 that of Schalbet, 95 feet long, and 3920 feet above Brieg. 
 Not long after passing this we had our first view of the 
 glorious Bernese Alps : the ghttering snowy peaks of the 
 Breithorn, Jungfrau, and Monch. Below the Jungfrau is the 
 glacier of Aletsch, one of the largest among the Alps, of 
 which we had previously a glimpse. What an overpowering 
 sensation it is to gaze on those everlasting hills ! It gives one 
 to feel the infinite power and majesty of the Creator of all 
 the ends of the earth ! They seem so far raised above man, 
 and aU his little world of thought and feehngs — so sublime in 
 their calm majesty, so unchangeable ! And then comes with 
 such force the remembrance that they are but the hiding of 
 his power, the very footstool of the King of kings and Lord of 
 lords ; and that this God who created those glorious and 
 mighty monuments, is the same who gives its loveliness to 
 the little violet hidden in its leafy nest by the torrent side ; 
 and more than this, who is ever watching over the most in- 
 significant of his creatures, numbering the very hairs of their 
 heads, and Ustening to their faintest cry for help and protec- 
 tion. Near the fifth refuge is the wildest and most savage 
 part of the ascent — a scene truly of dreary magnificence. 
 
 c 
 
;U INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The pine no longer finds even the little soil it requires ; the 
 lovely Alpine flowers no longer bloom around ; nothing but 
 rocks — crocks black with the stonns of ages — ^mountains with 
 their eternal snows piled above — glaciers on every side arrested 
 in their course, and stiffened into rest — below, an almost un- 
 fathomable abyss, with torrents surging amid the rocks, and 
 roaring cataracts bursting forth, and with resistless fury 
 plunging on their headlong way. Nought is here but the 
 majesty and power of Nature ! No trace of man save the 
 wondrous road itself, which now hangs on the very verge of 
 one of those fearful precipices — now disappears through the 
 solid rock, and again spans a foaming torrent, and chmbs the 
 mountain's brow ! It is here the celebrated glacier galleries 
 are reached, partly excavated, partly built of masonry, and 
 strongly arched. You enter an immense cavern, cold and 
 dark ; the sound of roaring waters is around you ; but in 
 vain for some time you look around for the cause. An open- 
 ing at length gives light — a strange light ; and well it may ; 
 for when you come opposite you see a sheet of silver ; and 
 looking upwards, a torrent of water is dashing overhead in a 
 wide and beautiful arch, which further down becomes broken 
 into light and feathery spray. 
 
 A second gallery — the same sound of waters, and the very 
 cavern walls seem to tremble with the rushing of the stream 
 below your feet. It is after passing through the last of these 
 galleries that the finest view of the whole range of the Ber- 
 nese Alps is obtained. They seem to enclose you in their 
 bosom : you look into the crevices on their sides ; the 
 Simplon frowns on you from behind, whilst, bright with the 
 many colours their glaciers give forth to the morning sun, 
 rise the noble Jungfrau and Breithorn. Several experienced 
 travellers joined us, while standing in awe and wonder at 
 
IXTKODUCTION, 35 
 
 this spot, and said it was the finest scene they had ever 
 witnessed. Often as I had felt the force and grandeur of 
 these hnes before, never as now, when almost unconsciously 
 they rose to my lips, had their sublime beauty so filled my 
 heart : — 
 
 " The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls 
 Have pinnacled in clouds their suowy scalps ; 
 And throned eternity in icy halls 
 Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls 
 The avalanche — the thunder-bolt of snow ! 
 All that expands the spirit, yet appals, 
 Gathers around their summits, as to shew 
 How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below !" 
 
 A thick cloud lay around the mighty Jungfrau, about half 
 way down, whilst the bright summit soared far into the 
 heavens — the pine forests below looked like brushwood, the 
 torrents hke threads ; and as for the villages, they seemed so 
 much another world left far behind, that it was difiicult for 
 the mind to reahze that a few hours only had passed since 
 oiu* feet had trodden them ! About a hundred yards above 
 the sixth refuge is the highest part of the Simplon pass. A 
 simple cross of wood marks the spot. As a remembrance we 
 picked at its foot some sprigs of a little lowly wild-flower, 
 which had been hardy enough, even in these cold and barren 
 regions, to open its bright eye to the sun. We were surprised 
 to find the cold afiect us so little. The air was keen and 
 
 sharp, but the sun was warm, and W was able to keep 
 
 the carriage windows open the whole way, except where pass- 
 ing through occasional fogs. Before commencing the descent, 
 huge wooden sabots were put upon the wheels, not an unne- 
 cessary precaution certainly, for the horses rush at a frightful 
 speed down places where it would almost make one nerv^ous even 
 
36 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to walk ! Three miles from the top is the village and inn of 
 Simplon, where we dined — (on chamois, by the way, which we 
 thought excellent) — and rested the horses. On setting out 
 again, I began to wonder — very prematurely, as I soon found 
 — ^how it was that, in constructing this marvellous road, the 
 Italians were said to have performed the most wonderful part 
 of the work ; but when we reached the Gorge of Gondo, it 
 seemed impossible to conceive how any art or power of man 
 could continue a road through such apparently insurmount- 
 able difficulties. This pass is considered one of the grandest 
 and most savage in the Alps. Black perpendicidar rocks 
 deepen and narrow at every step, till they overhang the road 
 so completely, that the drops of water from them fall at times 
 on the other side of the carriage as you pass along. At the 
 spot where the foaming torrent of the Doveria is crossed by 
 the Ponte Alto, the way for a moment seems completely 
 barred by an immense block of granite, which approaches 
 so nearly to the opposite side as scarcely to leave room for the 
 impetuous stream to escape ! To our amazement we found 
 ourselves in a cavern 600 feet long, cut through tlie sohd 
 rock, and not merely along its edge, but hollowed out through 
 the huge mass. It took 100 men, working in gangs day and 
 night, eighteen months to pierce it, the minere being sus- 
 pended by ropes to the face of the rock until the necessary 
 lodgements were effected ! Not forty yards from this spot, so 
 close to the road that its spray washes it, is the waterfall of 
 Frascinone. We got out to see it better, and certainly it is 
 impossible to conceive more impressive grandeur. The rocks 
 rising on each side straight as walls to a giddy and terrific 
 height — the little stiipe of blue sky seen above — the torrent 
 roaring in the dark gulf below — the white foam of the water- 
 fall, the bold arch of the bridge, and the black and ya■w^ling 
 
INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 mouth of the cavern, from whence we had just emerged, 
 altogether form a scene rarely, if anywhere, equalled. A 
 number of zig-zags conduct the road downward on its way ; 
 the turns are very sharp ; and as the carnage swung from 
 side to side, it was impossible not to feel somewhat nervous, 
 for every here and there are precipices so close, that a false 
 step of the horses must plunge you over them. After passing 
 Isella, a village where is the Sardinian Custom-house, we 
 reached another dreary savage pass. The severe storms of 
 1839 visited this spot Avith utter destruction. The bridges, 
 and a great part of the road, were swept away ; and though a 
 new line is now finished, nothing can efface the air of desola- 
 tion around. At the end of this gorge the pines begin again 
 to find a place of rest, and to clothe the hitherto bare moun- 
 tains. At Crevola the Doveria is crossed for the last time by 
 a fine bridge ninety feet high, and we left Val Dovedro and 
 entered Val d'Ossola. A change, indeed, comes over the 
 scene ! Grandeur, desolation, and solitude are exchanged for 
 loveliness, richness, and luxuriant cultivation. Chesnut and 
 mulberry trees fine the road ; vines hang in graceful festoons 
 from tree to tree, clothing them with pendant drapery, while 
 the dark clusters hang over the road. Fields of maize, with 
 its dark green leaves and drooping flowery crown ; white 
 cottages peeping from amid the trellised vines ; churches with 
 their taU spires pointing to the skies ; a soft bahny air ; and 
 all lighted up by the radiance of a glorious setting sun — all 
 told of another clime, and we felt that we had entered Italy ! 
 It was a dehcious drive, most refreshing after the excitement 
 of the day. We had a distant view of that scene so often 
 described, the Val d'Ossola, spread out at our feet ; but it 
 was too dark to distinguish any of its features by the time we 
 reached it. Eight glad were we to find ourselves in the town 
 
38 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of Dome d'Ossola, though by no means were we channed by 
 this our first specimen of Itahan inns ; always excepting, 
 however, the dehcious fruit presented both at tea and break- 
 fast : figs bursting with ripeness — peaches, pears, and 
 bunches of grapes — afresh and most agreeable proofs that we 
 were now in a land of sunny skies. 
 
 With this impression of the bright skies of Italy, I confess 
 I was somewhat surjjiised on waking to look out upon a 
 decidedly wet morning. We were comforted, however, with 
 the thought how fortunate we had been in having such a 
 favourable day intermediate between two wet ones. It cleared 
 up in time for us to see the lovely Lago Maggiore, though 
 not in all its charms, for it wanted the lighting up of the 
 bright sun. Still there is a peculiar softness and quiet beauty 
 in it very pleasing. The colour is not the heavenly blue of 
 Leman, but there is more glassy stillness ; and the little 
 boats, with their white awnings, ghde by like spectres. It is 
 richly wooded to the very edge, and terraces of vines over- 
 hang the pebbly shore. We stopped to rest at Baveno, on 
 its borders, and were detained longer than usual, owing to poor 
 Ferdinando's new horse, which he had bought at Vevay, being 
 quite knocked up. The inn was exceedingly uncomfortable, 
 noisy, and dirty, and we were glad to hasten out and wander 
 by the calm and lovely lake. The mountains all round it are 
 of beautiful forms, and from being wooded from the base give 
 pecuhar richness to the landscape. We had intended going 
 to see the celebrated " Isola Bella," but it was too damp for 
 
 W , and, moreover, we did not care much for seeing it 
 
 nearer, as it is not by any means so picturesque as I expected ; 
 indeed, the actual beauty of Isola Madre is much more at- 
 tractive. Very slowly did we perform the remainder of the 
 day's journey, owing to that stupid horse, wliich proved more 
 
INTKODUCTION. 
 
 ;59 
 
 siilky than tired ; but we coiild not regret it, as the whole 
 road was by the water's side, and we saw a thousand different 
 views, and the fine background of the snowy Alps. Near 
 Arona, where we stopped for the night, is the marvellous 
 colossal statue of St. Carlo Borromeo. It stands on a high 
 ridge behind the town, on a pedestal of forty feet — the statue 
 itself being sixty feet. Ferdinando told us he had made a 
 fourth person at one time in the head, and that the inside of 
 the nose is a comfortable arm-chair ! We were not tempted, 
 however, to undergo the fatigue of ascending so many steps, 
 and were satisfied mth his account. The effect of the mas- 
 sive figure against the clear sky is very good, even at 
 some distance. Another wet day followed, and I asked our 
 vettmino where was the " bel tempo" he had promised in 
 Italy ; but he hardly allows this to be Italy. I must, however, 
 confess, that these occasional wet days were rather pleasurable 
 to me, I had arranged and hung up several bags in the 
 carriage, in which were all the various articles for daily use. 
 Books, work, and all that was needful for pressing and diying 
 the leaves and flowers which we gathered as memorials of the 
 different places of interest we visited, were thus at hand ; nor 
 were bouquets of flowers and baskets of fruit wanting to re- 
 fresh us with their sweetness and fragrance. Having made 
 those arrangements which, though trivial in themselves, con- 
 tribute much to one's comfort in a long journey, there was 
 positive enjoyment in the repose of being able quietly to read 
 one's book, or half dreamily to recall the scenes which had so 
 powerfully excited the mind ; and cei"tainly at this particular 
 part of the road there was nothing in the present to with- 
 draw one from the i)ast. Long, straight avenues of poplars 
 or chesnuts, only enUvened by the sight of vineyards in every 
 opening ; but just before reaching Sesto Calende is a most 
 
40 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 glorious view of Monte Rosa. It rose beyond the dark fore- 
 ground of the wooded plain in its pure whiteness, the sun 
 seeming to pour upon it all the light and brilliancy he 
 denied to us. We crossed in a clumsily managed and tedious 
 ferry to Sesto Calende, a stupid dirty httle town, where we 
 were detained half an hour in the street with passports and 
 custom-house officers, the latter being the first Austrian 
 specimens of these gentry we had met with. Surly and dig- 
 nified as they looked, they notwithstanding took a franc and 
 let us off with a peep into a carpet bag ! Ferdinando here 
 took an additional horse to urge on the obstinate grey. A 
 good-humoured Italian lad accompanied it, who whistled the 
 mellifluous airs of his country quite scientifically. After he 
 left us our locomotive power became more miserably insuffi- 
 cient than ever, the refractory horse not only choosing his 
 own pace, but every ten minutes stopping short. At every 
 inn or post we came to, Ferdinando exclaimed, in accents 
 of moving entreaty, " Un cavaUo ! un cavallo !" but aU in 
 vain. He was quite au desespoir^ striking his forehead 
 and indulging in most wonderful exclamations, which could 
 not but cause a smile, although we truly commiserated his 
 distress, and fully shared the annoyance, since it was im- 
 possible to calculate when we should reach Milan, espe- 
 cially as the creature now took to backing opposite every 
 house we passed, as if determined to end its journey there. 
 At length, when our patience was all but exhausted, and 
 night coming on, we fell in with a dihgence heavily laden, 
 and consequently going very slowly. The spirit of rivalry, 
 I suppose, after every other kind of spirit had been flogged 
 out of him, seemed to revive the grey, and Ferdinando 
 managed to keep just behind the lumbering vehicle for some 
 miles, indeed until within sight of Milan. We at last reached 
 
INTRODUCTION. 4i 
 
 the entrance to the city park, under the fine arch of Napoleon, 
 which ends the Simplon road, the " Arco della Pace." It 
 was too dark to do more than distinguish the outhne. We 
 were detained a few minutes with passports, and then drove 
 on. After being warned by the pohce there, to keep a good 
 look-out from the windows in passing through the Corso, as 
 many light-fingered gentlemen take advantage of the dark 
 shadows of the fine avenue of trees to lie in wait and assist 
 passengers in disposing of some of the smaller articles of 
 luggage, I very valiantly leaned half out of one window, 
 and whether my alarming position kept them at bay or not, 
 we certainly encountered no such depredators. In about 
 twenty minutes we were rolling on that smooth pavement 
 which one finds so often in Italian cities, having two lines of 
 flags for the wheels, over which they bowl along as if on a 
 railway, with ordinary paving between for the horses' feet. 
 Not long after entering the town we stopped at the hotel 
 " Croce di Malta," which had been highly recommended. 
 
THE DOMO OF MILAN, 
 
 fuEELY it is vain to attempt in words to do 
 
 J,, justice to the Domo of Milan ! to convey by 
 
 2- mere description an idea of its elaborate 
 
 WfX beauty, its world of exquisite designs. Rather 
 
 let me appeal to the imagination, and, bor- 
 
 rowing an expression from imperial lips, bid such 
 as would realize it create for themselves a " dream 
 in marble," a fairy structure all unmeet for aught 
 but the soft breeze of heaven to touch, or the cloud- 
 less vault of an Italian sky to cover ! It has been 
 often with me in my visions since that evening hour in which 
 first I saw it, when I gazed again and again lest I should 
 behold the fair form fade from my sight ! And yet I must 
 confess that the first view of the fa9ade was to me somewhat 
 disappointing. I cannot admire the style of architecture there 
 unhappily mingled with the exquisite Gothic. But the objec- 
 tion applies to the fa9ade alone. In every other part the har- 
 mony of design seems wonderful, considering the different eras 
 in which it was built. It is constructed of Candoglia marble, 
 to which time gives a yellow tinge, shading off" and adding 
 
44 ART AND NATURE 
 
 softness to the dazzling brilliancy of the newer and upper 
 portions — ^the fretted pinnacles and statues — 'which yet retain 
 their snowy whiteness. The effect of these, standing out in 
 all their purity and ethereal lightness against the clear blue of 
 an Italian sky, is magical. We walked round and round 
 the area in which it stands. The nearer you approach, the 
 more exquisite the finish of every part, of every single leaf 
 and flower is found to be. It is, however, on ascending to 
 the top that one realizes fully the outpouring of beauty that 
 has been lavished. A flight of two hundred steps conducts 
 to the roof of the Cathedral. These consist of a spiral stair- 
 case inside a lofty turret, with open marble tracery work, 
 through which I, at least, cast many an involuntary glance, 
 with nervous dread, upon the dazzhng roof, and the city far 
 below. Arrived at the gallery upon the top of the turret, the 
 view, as may well be supposed, is truly magnificent. Spread 
 out, as on a map, before the eye, are the plains of Lombardy, 
 bounded on one side by the chain of Alps, " Monte Kosa," 
 " Breithorn," " Mont Blanc," " Great St. Bernard," " Mont 
 Cenis;" more to the right, "St. Gothard," and the "Spliigen," 
 and beyond these the mountains of the Tyrol. The position 
 of Venice was pointed out ; and slowly passing the eye over 
 the richly cultivated plains, it rested next on the range of 
 Apennines — the Mediterranean stretched in the far distance, 
 and then on the valleys of Piedmont, whilst the thoughts might 
 revel in the associations called forth by the name. It was a 
 scene to expand and elevate the mind, as well as to hve inde- 
 libly in the memory. And now, what shall I say of the 
 interior of this glorious edifice ! The feeling produced by its 
 vastness, its solemn grandeur, its impressive silence, is almost 
 overpowering. A misty veil seems to hang around the massy 
 pillars, a " dim religious light " solemnizes every feature. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 45 
 
 Standing near the choir, and looking upwards to the vaulted 
 roof, around on the intense colouring, — the gem-hke radiance 
 of the windows, then through the vast aisles with their 
 colossal pillars, a calm, elevated feeling, — a consciousness of 
 standing in a temple of the living God came over me. A 
 kindred emotion hore my thoughts hack, with a freshness 
 of sympathy to that enthusiastic pride and glory which the 
 Jews of old and their prophet-king were wont to feel when 
 they looked on that Temple which stood on Mount Zion — 
 the "beauty of holiness," the "joy of the whole earth." 
 And yet, even in the midst of feelings so appropriate to such 
 a scene, do we not well to remember that these same Jews, 
 who thus well-nigh worshipped the visible beauty of the 
 Temple built by the direction of the Lord their God, despised 
 and rejected Him who was the true glory of that Temple — 
 who would have none of Him, because He came not with 
 pomp and circumstance of earthly beauty ? Do we not well 
 to remember that to Him who " sitteth on the clouds," 
 " whose throne is in the heavens," the contrite tear of a 
 penitent heart is a sacrifice more acceptable than all the 
 grandeur and the beauty of the most gorgeous fane that 
 human art hath ever raised ? The windows in the upper 
 range are of golden colour, while the three glorious ones to 
 the east are gemmed with the richest crimson, blue, and 
 scarlet : the whole casting a varied hue on the marble statues 
 and mosaics within. The gigantic pulpits of bronze, dark 
 and massive, contrast again with this vivid colouring. While 
 moving on in silence, a sweet, soft, low tone stole upon the 
 ear, which seemed in mysterious harmony with our solemnized 
 feehngs at the moment. It seemed to rise and sweep along 
 the vaulted roof, and whisper softest music round each massive 
 pillar. It was the hour of vespers, the gloom of twilight 
 
4G ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 deepened, a sliadowy majesty rested on all around. The 
 faint light through the windows served only to cast the long 
 shadows of the columns across the marble pavement, and as 
 we walked onwards with a noiseless step, every now and then 
 a kneeling form was darkly seen, or the shadow of some one 
 steahng by. I have heard and read of such scenes, but the 
 reality sui-passed my utmost imagination. It was silence that 
 might be felt, and the darkness deepened around us till the 
 shadows melted away. A deep-toned bell broke the stillness, 
 and when its last echoes had died upon the ear, suddenly a 
 bright, ruddy light appeared in the far distance, and priests 
 bearing torches passed along the aisles. It was strange to see 
 the peculiar hue of torch-light resting for a brief moment 
 on the tall columns and the sculptured marble, and deepening 
 the shadows when it had passed by. A moment after, a low- 
 toned voice chanted a few words : we heard the clanking of 
 keys, the signal for the departure of all who like us had 
 lingered there dming the twilight hour. 
 
THE BREllA GALLERY. 
 
 MUST own it was with considerable disap- 
 pointment I passed through the first few 
 rooms of the Brera Gallery at Milan. I had 
 expected to be charmed with this my first 
 introduction to many of the Itahan masters. 
 It may be that my expectations were too highly 
 raised ; certain it is I saw nothing in these to 
 satisfy them fully. Indeed I was almost be- 
 . ^ ) ginning to fear my taste had not yet learned to 
 "L " ~ appreciate that Avhich I might aftei'wards admire, 
 when my disappointment was ended by entering the seventh 
 room. It is a small octagon, and contains but few pictures : 
 and this is well ; for who could turn their eyes to look on 
 aught beside tlie tw^o pictures, which are here placed with 
 every possible advantage of light and position ? 
 
 The first I came to was Raphael's " Sposalizio." It bears 
 his own name and the date, and has met with the favour it 
 deserves, having had many celebrated owners. In this pic- 
 ture, Mary and Joseph stand opposite each other, the high- 
 priest between them joins their hands : Joseph is in the act 
 
48 ART AND NATURE 
 
 of putting the ring on the finger of the bride. On Mary's 
 left is a group of lovely maidens, and on Joseph's right some 
 young men, supposed to have been lovers, as they are break- 
 ing their wands, while Joseph holds his, which has blossomed 
 into a lily — according to the legend, his sign of acceptance. 
 In the background is the lofty Temple and a flight of steps. 
 But it is in the figure and face of Mary that the dignified yet 
 tender softness and beauty of the picture shine forth ; and 
 with these too, there is a look of elevation, as though she 
 dwelt on the future she knew to be before her, as well as a 
 subdued and almost melancholy expression which gives an 
 indescribable charm to the whole figure. It is not a picture 
 to which description can do justice. And what shall I say of 
 that to which I next turned ? It was the famous Guercino 
 — " Abraham dismissing Hagar." I cannot even name with 
 patience the criticisms that have condemned any part of this 
 painting. Who could look on the toucliing scene, and not be 
 carried away by its truth and power ! Look at Abraham's 
 venerable figure — at that mingled expression of human sor- 
 row and regret — pity for Hagar, tenderness for his child, his 
 first-born son, struggling against a stem sense of duty — and, 
 superior to all such emotions, the prophetic glance into the 
 future. Do you not see his dark eyes kindle, as though he 
 were saying, " The son of the bond-woman shall not be heir 
 with the son of the free-woman," whilst yet his father's heart 
 breathes forth the fervent prayer, " Oh, that Ishmael may 
 live before Thee ! " Sarah is turning away — perhaps some 
 relenting towards the mother and her child is dawning on her 
 heart, and she dares not longer remain ; and yet there is 
 triumph, too, in the proud figure and in the haughty step. 
 What a contrast to poor Hagar ! Oh, what a face is hers ! 
 A tale of woe is written there ; concentrated anguish speaks 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 49 
 
 in every lineament. As yon look into the depths of her 
 troubled eyes, you know that she feels it to be a matter of 
 life or death to her that hangs on the breath of his lips. She 
 does not speak : there is no need ; for what appeal could so 
 melt the heart as that pale face, the gaze of those earnest 
 eyes, which seem to say, "And can it be that thou wilt banish 
 us for ever ?" The doubt is no more — she has read her fate ; 
 and you look on into the next moment, and see her woman's 
 pride conquering her woman's agony, as, turning away with- 
 out one spoken word, she takes her banished child by the 
 hand, and departs, " to wander in the wilderness of Beer- 
 sheba." 
 
 In the eleventh room is another picture of great power and 
 beauty. It is an agonizing subject — the Martyrdom of Saint 
 Catherine ; but the meek and patient submission expressed 
 in the countenance — the sublime and exalted tranquillity — 
 the eyes raised with such full, deep trust and confidence to 
 heaven, seemingly unconscious of all surrounding objects, 
 instruments of torture or the presence of ferocious men — 
 these are aU wonderfully portrayed. 
 
 From the Palazzo Brera we drove to the Church of Santa 
 Maria delle Grazie, where is the famous " Cenacolo." Multi- 
 tudinous engravings have made this Last Supper by Leonardo 
 da Vinci familiar to every one. It was really mournful to 
 find such an utter wreck of this masterly creation of genius. 
 The mere outline of three or four of the figures is all that 
 remains to tell that this splendid fresco ever existed on the 
 now soiled and discoloured waU. Even the countenance of 
 our Lord, one of the most distinct that can yet be recognised, 
 requires the closest examination to trace it. It is singular 
 that this very head was said to have been left unfinished by 
 Leonardo : he is reported to have made the following remark 
 
50 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 to his patron, Ludovico il Moro, — " Ancor gli mancava due 
 teste da fare, quella di Christo, della quale non voleva cercare 
 in terra, e non poteva tanto pensare che nella immaginazione 
 gli paresse poter concepire, quella bellezza, e celeste grazie 
 che dovebbe essere in quella divinity incamata/' Yet this head 
 is now more distinguished than any other in the whole paint- 
 ing. In addition to the mischances which befell it and other 
 treasures of the same Idnd at the time when the French 
 soldiers were frequently quartered in the churches in Italy, 
 the plaster on which this masterpiece of fresco was painted 
 was not properly prepared, and Leonardo is supposed to have 
 experimented on some composition which proved the ruin of 
 his work. In the Brera there is a design of our Lord's head 
 in black and red chalk, which assists one in forming an idea 
 of what the finished ])icture must have been. 
 
GENOA. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 E left Milan next morning en route for Genoa. 
 The country flat and uninteresting as to 
 scenery. At mid-day we stopped to visit a 
 splendid church about four miles from Pa via. 
 " The Certosa of Pavia," as it is called, is 
 certainly the finest building of the pure Italian 
 style of architecture I have yet seen. An arched 
 gateway leads into the great quadrangle, and at 
 the far extremity stands the church. The fa9ade is 
 of the richest marble, and the designs of the basso- 
 relievos are very beautiful — in fact, perfect pictures in stone. 
 The interior is imposing. The ceiling is of deep blue, studded 
 with golden stars, and the balustrades which enclose the 
 numerous side chapels are richly g'ilt. In each of these 
 chapels the altar-piece and pillars are of different marbles, 
 some of the very rarest kind, while the floor and steps are 
 inlaid with exquisite mosaics. Women are not permitted to 
 enter these chapels ; but a veiy civil monk who attended 
 us allowed me to stand sufficiently within the rails to enable 
 me to see the very fine paintings placed above the altars, 
 
52 ART AND NATURE 
 
 compromising with his conscience, by putting a handkerchief 
 on the stones, that my sacrilegious foot might not profane 
 them by its contact ! The only part I could not see, even by 
 any device of my complaisant friend, was the high altar. 
 
 W said it was gorgeous in the extreme, being literally 
 
 covered with precious stones of every kind. The tomb of 
 Giovanni Galeazzo, the founder, he also saw, and most magni- 
 ficent it is. Foliage, flowers, birds, fruit, all in the brightest 
 colours, and formed of the most costly materials, are lavished 
 everywhere to ornament this splendid church. Some of the 
 frescoes make one start, coming on them unexpectedly. One 
 there is, representing a monk, who seems to be stealing along 
 in silence, and mysteriously watching you from a gallery 
 above. It is admirably painted, and our being for a moment 
 unquestionably deceived, aiforded great amusement to the 
 old man who conducted us. From the Certosa we soon 
 reached Pavia. The entrance to the town is rather striking, 
 but all attraction ceases on entering the streets, which are 
 narrow and dirty. I have no pleasing recollections of our 
 accommodation in the hotel there, though the best in the 
 place ; indeed, in such circiunstances, we often foimd great 
 rehef in leaving our rooms as speedily as possible, and wan- 
 dering away to the cathedrals, even though in themselves not 
 particularly worth visiting. On this occasion we hastened to 
 the Domo. The interior is hke a vast cavern, dark and 
 gloomy. The pulpits are very like fortresses, supported by 
 colossal " termes," (the proper appellation, I beheve,) repre- 
 senting, we were told, the Fathers of the Church. In rich 
 and beautiful contrast with the general gloom and heaviness, 
 in a brilhantly lighted little chapel, is the magnificent tomb 
 of St. Augustine. This is an astonishing combination of 
 everv'thing most exquisite in workmanship. There are the 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 53 
 
 richest Gothic arches and pinnacles, bas-reliefs of weeping 
 figures — funeral processions — triumphal cars — all designed 
 ^\dth elaborate taste and beauty, and in the purest marble, 
 producing an ejBFect which it is difficult to conceive. The 
 whole design of the tomb stiTick me as perfectly unique. It 
 consists of four stories. The basement — of Sienna marble, 
 of a rich mellow tint : the tomb — on which is extended a 
 fine statue of Augustine in his robes, and surrounded by 
 numerous graceful figures. The canopy — ^which again is sur- 
 mounted by pinnacles and statues — two hundred and ninety 
 figures in all. The body of that celebrated man lies beneath 
 this splendid tomb. A gilded grating enables you to see the 
 silver coffin in which his bones are laid. 
 
 I could not but wish that J could have been with us 
 
 as we stood looking at the rich details — the elaborate work- 
 mansliip. He would have been greatly interested. 
 
 There are three good pictures in this church, but only one 
 that pleased me — by Crespi. The light in which they all 
 hang is exceedingly disadvantageous, I noticed here an in- 
 stance of the sort of innate taste of the Itahans for paintings. 
 In the absence of the sacristan, a poor-looking tattered boy, 
 to whom we happened to apply for directions where to find the 
 tomb, took upon himself to accompany us ; and when we 
 turned from the chapel where we had remained so long, he 
 not only shewed us the paintings, but instantly pointed out 
 the best light for each. We have repeatedly observed the 
 same thing. I smiled as I imagined to myself a boy of the 
 same class in our own country, being required to give such a 
 specimen of his taste 1 
 
 We were off" betimes the folh^wing morning, crossing the 
 river Po by a fine bridge. There was little to interest us in 
 the country through which we passed ; consequently I gave 
 
5-4 AET AND NATURE 
 
 myself up to the enjoyment of Cooper's " Travels in Italy," 
 a book I pm-cliased for three francs at Milan. As I have 
 before said, I greatly enjoy the repose of less interesting 
 scenery now and then, the quiet of our comfortable carriage, 
 and the varied amusements of arranging the dried flowers 
 which from day to day accumulate, — talking over what we 
 have seen, — and reading of the experience of others. The 
 heat, however, somewhat interfered with comfort on this occa- 
 sion, so that we were not sorry to see in the distance the 
 small town of Voghera, which we knew was our mid-day 
 resting-j)lace. After dinner we of course went to the cathe- 
 dral, and were just in time to hear the organ — a fine deep- 
 toned instrument, with some peculiarly sweet notes. It was 
 soothing and refreshing in no ordinary degi'ee, after the 
 excessive heat of our morning's journey, to sit down in that 
 large quiet old cathedral, and listen to those solemn chants, 
 and the pealing notes of that organ. 
 
 The heat continued very oppressive all the afternoon, and 
 when we reached Novi, very much tired and exhausted, we 
 found the only inn a miserable place,^ — dirty, close, and 
 noisy to a degree. Nothing could weU be less inviting than 
 the coffee and milk, the bread and the butter, which were set 
 before us in the most primitive style. The people however 
 were very civil, and evidently had nothing better to give — a 
 discovery which greatly assists in reconciling one to things as 
 they are. The road becomes very beautiful beyond No\t:. 
 Fine hills in the distance, rocks with strangely marked strata 
 by the road side, and long shady avenues of chesnut trees, — 
 a pleasing contrast to the heat and monotony of the previous 
 day's journey. At Eonco we took on an additional horse, 
 as we encountered here the first branch of the Apennines. 
 The ascent is not long, and much less steep than the descent on 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 55 
 
 the opposite side, wliich was at times very far from pleasant, 
 on account of the shai-p and sudden turns. I was quite 
 nervous — more so even than when descending the Simplon ; 
 but, in fact, I had not recovered from the annoyance encoun- 
 tered that morning at the Sardinian frontier, of the finst rude 
 douanier we have fallen in with. Nothing would do but 
 everytliing must be opened, even my desk, which no one had 
 ever touched before. One man, in particular, seized even a 
 pair of sheets in om' carpet-bag, and declared them contra- 
 band, informing us we must either leave them, or pay double 
 their real value. I was almost in despair, for they were of the 
 utmost value to us in such a journey. Our excellent Ferdi- 
 nando did what he could to check this over-zealous official ; but 
 I began to fear, fruitlessly, when he advised me to speak to the 
 master. I did so, and the man, though unwilhng, could not 
 refuse. So up stairs I went, and there a civil gentlemanly old 
 man met me. The douanier made out his case, and at any 
 other moment I should have been much amused to see him 
 hold forth " gli lenzuoli," exhibiting in triumph that they were 
 quite new. I, in my turn, simply stated why we had them — 
 why they were of such consequence to us, and shewed the 
 mark on them which the douanier had not chosen to look at 
 before. The old man politely inquired if we had any more. 
 I marvelled whether they really imagined we were linen- 
 merchants, and that our carriage was full of such articles ! 
 for on my replying we had no more with us, my adversary 
 exclaimed, " he was by no means sure of that." To my in- 
 finite satisfaction, however, he was silenced, and desired to 
 replace the sheets without another word. I expressed my 
 thanks to my old friend, and the discomfited official went 
 down vowing vengeance against the rest of the things, wliich 
 certainly underwent a terrible overhauling in consequence. 
 
56 ART AND NATURE 
 
 However, the old gentleman had his eye on him from the 
 window above, when he opened my trunk, and this kept him 
 within bounds a little. Altogether it was a disagreeable occur- 
 rence, though after aU we had been very fortunate in being so 
 long free from the least annoyance on this score. 
 
 At Armerotti we again came to the Apennines, the scenery 
 in parts becoming very grand. Ferdinando pointed out in 
 the distance Genoa, and soon its beautiful bay and the blue 
 expanse of the Mediterranean were distinguishable. The 
 approach to Genoa greatly delighted me. Villas, and gardens 
 fidl of orange trees and flowering shrubs, on either side of 
 the road, with trelhsed vines supported upon ranges of stone 
 piUars, These are often placed tier above tier, and their 
 rich ornaments contrast beautifully with the craggy rocks 
 from which they sometimes seem to spring. 
 
 Altogether, there is something peculiar and appropriate in 
 this approach, preparing one, so to speak, for the magnificent 
 scene which greets the traveller, when on tm'ning one of the 
 abrupt declivities which jut upon the road, " Genoa la Su- 
 perba" bursts upon the view ! It is built nearly in the form of 
 a crescent, at the foot of mountains of various heights, some 
 of the lower eminences being crowned with forts and ram- 
 parts, and their sides gay with palaces and terraced gardens. 
 At each end of the crescent-shaped city are two noble piers, 
 with light-houses temiinating both. One is pariicularly fine, 
 rising between three and four hundred feet from the solid 
 rock. Splendid houses fine the principal streets, which though 
 nari'ow, convey no idea of gloom ; while the shade they 
 afford from the glare of the noon-day sun is most grateful. 
 I was delighted with Genoa, even by the time we reached the 
 " Albergo dTtaha," a very good hotel, with a most attentive 
 and obliging landlord. Our rooms were quite charming, but 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 57 
 
 at sucli a height ! Nos. 65 and 66 ! However, the heat was 
 so intense, we were glad to have large aiiy apartments, even 
 at the expense of climbing to them. We arranged to go out 
 and see the church of " L'Annunziata," and return to tea 
 before going up to our nest again. Well may people talk of 
 the extraordinary magnificence of this church. It is one mass 
 of gold and blue and gorgeous marble of every colour. 
 Bright pictures, set in golden panels, look down from the 
 roof, and lapis-lazuli is the ground wherever they are not. In 
 the dome, which is lighted by windows all round, are paint- 
 ings which, at that distance at least, are perfectly beautiful. 
 The windows are set in massive golden frames, and the effect 
 of crimson silk curtains on which the setting sun was shining, 
 was nothing less than glorious. It is not the kind of magni- 
 ficence that satisfies the mind in a church, at least not mine ; 
 still, of its kind it is very striking. " We looked in vain 
 for a painting I had heard was in this church, and wliich I 
 wished to see. Observing a priest walking in one of the 
 aisles, I ventured to accost him, asking him if he could tell 
 me where was the " Cena." He replied that he was himself a 
 stranger, but pointing to a door not far from where we stood, 
 he told me I should there find the sacristan. We followed 
 his directions, and passing do^vn a long dark passage, unhesi- 
 tatingly opened a door which seemed to teraiinate it. Not 
 finding this the case, and meeting no one, we still advanced, 
 until we came to a large stone hall : this was empty, and we 
 were just about to turn back, when through a partially opened 
 door I perceived a monk sitting at a table writing. Conclud- 
 ing him to be the sacristan of whom we were in search, I 
 advanced towards him ; at the sound of footsteps he raised 
 his eyes, and instantly starting uj), uttered a most vehement 
 exclamation of hoiTor, His sudden motion completely startled 
 
58 AllT AND NATUKE 
 
 me, and I stood where I was, in vain attempting to make 
 known our request. His gesticulation became so violent, and 
 his screams, for indeed I cannot call them words, so wholly 
 unintelligible, we could only gaze at his frantic excitement 
 with surprise. At length the oft repeated " La Signora" 
 threw some degree of light upon the subject, and my im- 
 mediate retreat produced a more sootliing effect than all 
 my eiforts at explanation. In fact, I had unconsciously 
 entered the sacred precincts of the monastery belonging to 
 the church, and his horror at the sudden appearance of a 
 woman, where probably none had ever appeared before, had 
 taken from him all presence of mind, and caused him to 
 act in the ludicrous manner I have described. His distress, 
 however, was so real, I could only most humbly express my 
 regret, informing him that a priest had given us directions to 
 seek the sacristan by the door at which we had entered. He 
 seemed pacified when he learned these particulars, and yet 
 more so when he saw us fairly into the church. When all 
 was over we enjoyed a hearty laugh — though, I must say, I 
 had no wish to prosecute any further om" search after the 
 missing sacristan. As we were leaving the church, however, 
 we saw a party of strangers, accompanied by a man who 
 proved to be the said individual. He took us to a small 
 dark corner behind one of the aisles, and pointed out the 
 painting we had sought. I was exceedingly disappointed, 
 having heard that this " Last Supper" by Procaccino was much 
 celebrated. I am afraid I may sometimes almost seem pre- 
 sumptuous in thus venturing to form my o^vn opinion about 
 many of these famous works of the old masters, but in the 
 first place, I only speak of the impression they make on my 
 own mind ; and, moreover, I never can admire anything 
 because I am bid. I once overheard a party discussing various 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 51) 
 
 paintings. They evidently wished to do their duty scrapu- 
 lously, but one of them ventured to express a doubt as to the 
 degree of admiration to be bestowed on a very dark and fear- 
 ful loolriug picture, — one an artist might appreciate, but which 
 none other could possibly regard with any pleasure. The very 
 doubt seemed to astonish the rest of the party, and one ex- 
 claimed, " oh ! how can you ! Murray says so." Many a 
 time since has the expression recurred to me — " Murray says 
 so," therefore, perforce it must be thought "beautiful," 
 " exquisite," &c. &c. 
 
 But to retmii. We retraced our steps to the hotel, and 
 gi'eatly enjoyed a really comfortable meal, after the wretched 
 fare of the last two or three days. The heat even dm-ing the 
 night, was overpowering ; and, combined with the torments of 
 living animals, effectually put sleep to flight. I rose and 
 looked out between one and two o'clock in the morning, upon 
 a strange and beautiful spectacle. The lights sparkling hke 
 gems all roimd the bay, the rich glow of the ruby beacon- 
 light upon the Molo Vecchio, which seemed like a star watch- 
 ing over the slumbering city, — the phantom-hke vessels dimly 
 revealed in the darkness, — wdth here and there a twinkling 
 light on the waters, the marble whiteness of the houses near, 
 and the utter stillness around, — nothing to be heard save the 
 breaking of the swell against the rocks. 
 
 Sometimes, when rising very early in order to escape the 
 great heat, the thought comes over me with a feeling of wonder 
 that it is nearly the end of October ! On the second morning 
 after our arrival, we were early astir, being anxious to see the 
 famous " Strada Nuova," the Street of Palaces. It is far more 
 magnificent than I had any idea of. It is certainly rather 
 narrow ; but the facades of the palaces are so beautiful, the 
 marble piUars and sculptured ornaments give such a cheerful 
 
00 ART AND NATURE 
 
 aspect, without at all diminishing the massive splendour which 
 distinguishes them, that the effect is scarcely injm-ed by the 
 narrowness, whilst unquestionably, in such weather as this, 
 one's personal comfort is greatly increased. The Palazzo 
 " Brignole Eosso" was the first we entered. It has a singidar 
 appearance outside, the walls being of a bright crimson, whilst 
 the ornaments are of white marble. The doors of these palaces 
 are enormous, opening at once upon an immense marble hall, 
 through which you pass to a wide and massive flight of steps. 
 At every landing of these are fine statues. At the top of the 
 first flight we rang a bell, and were desired to go up to the 
 second floor, where we should find the person whose business 
 it was to shew the palace. A pleasant old man made his 
 appearance in answer to our summons, who led us at once 
 into the bed-room of the Marchese, which came the very first 
 in order, — a somewhat unexpected arrangement of the apai-t- 
 ments, but one with which we afterwards became well ac- 
 quainted. We were not much struck with this room, and 
 passed on into the great hall. The " Rape of the Sabines," 
 by Valerio Castello, a fine picture, is here ; and four Guidos 
 pleased me. The next room is called "La Primavera." 
 Here are the most splendid Vandykes I ever beheld. One, 
 a portrait of the Marquis on horseback ; another, of the 
 Marchioness ; and a third, of a father and child ; gave me a 
 completely new idea of this grand painter. I had a good 
 deal connected him in my own mind with the picturesque 
 portraits of Charles the First, and other faces of the same 
 cast, and, I am almost ashamed to add, with beautifully 
 painted point-lace ! Here, indeed, I saw liim in a new and 
 most powerful aspect ; and I could have stood an hour before 
 those three pictures with their rich deep colouring and noble 
 expression. The second room " La State," contains one of 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 01 
 
 the many pictures of the same subject — a St. Sebastian, by 
 Guido. It is so life-like as to be painful to look upon. There 
 are one or two Guercinos ; but the " Saviour banishing the 
 buyers and sellers from the Temple '' was the one I noticed 
 most. It is undoubtedly very finely executed : the colouring 
 possesses all the wonted richness of this master, but the sub- 
 ject seemed to me badly conceived. Our Lord's figure has not 
 the calm dignity which is the only expression becoming the 
 solemn words he used. There is too much of human feeling 
 and anger ; while the countenances of the people express ten-or 
 rather than what one conceives they woidd feel. I was not 
 particularly struck with the pictures in " L'Autunno," and 
 passed on to the fourth room, " L'lnvemo," in which, to 
 my taste, are the finest of all these paintings. " The 
 Pharisees questioning our Lord on the Tribute-Money," by 
 Vandyke, is one of the most perfect pictures I have seen. 
 Our Lord's face wears the most heaveidy expression, — more 
 nearly approaching to one's ideal of it than anything we have 
 yet met with. I was at once reminded of the words he spoke, 
 " Eender unto Caesar tlie things which are Ciesar's, and to 
 God the things that are God's ;" thus with calm majesty dis- 
 appointing the deep cunning of his questioners. Nothing 
 can be more admirable than the contrast between the noble 
 dignity of Jesus, and the artful yet obsequious expression of 
 the two Jews, It is a picture to dwell upon till you realize 
 the scene portrayed — till you forget that it is a painting, and 
 almost believe yourself present. I tliink the effect of this 
 picture on me more resembles that which I felt so strongly 
 with regard to the Guercino I have already spoken of in the 
 Brera — Abraham dismissing Hagar, than any other. I can- 
 not particularize more of the collection in this one room, but 
 will only add, that I was delighted with all, except one by 
 
02 ART AND NATURE 
 
 Paul Veronese — " Judith, holding the head of Holofernes," 
 which revolted by its subject, though one's admiration could 
 not be withheld from the execution. We walked through five 
 or six rooms in succession, till my eyes ached and my head got 
 confused ; but in the twelfth room I was arrested by a mag- 
 nificent painting by my favourite, Guercino, of " Cleopatra 
 with the Asp on her Arm." I know not that I ever before 
 had my idea of the regal beauty of this proud queen realized. 
 From the balcony of this tndy princely palace we looked out 
 on groves of orange trees, and the beautiful oleander, with its 
 rich crimson blossoms, alike delighting the eye and scenting 
 the air with fragrance. Immediately opposite is the palace 
 which was occupied by our Queen-Dowager Adelaide, now 
 the Jesuits' College. 
 
 We found it difficult to decide which of the numerous 
 palaces and picture-galleries we should next visit, but were so 
 tired and really unable to appreciate more pictures, that we 
 resolved to vary the calls on our admiration by choosing the 
 " Palazzo Serra," instead of "Durazza," or "Garibaldi," which, 
 I believe, rank next to the " Brignole Eosso," for their gal- 
 leries. The saloon in the " Palazzo Serra" is literally laden 
 with precious things. The ceilings — the bas-rehefs^ — the 
 varied marbles — the mirrors which reflect the gilded panels 
 a thousand times, till you scarcely know w^here the real room 
 begins — the laj)is-lazuli doors and tables — all combine to make 
 this saloon bewildering in its splendour. It is said to have 
 cost a million of francs, and one can quite believe it. I 
 noticed two beautiful pieces of tapestry — copies from the 
 famous Sybils of Domenichino and Guercino at Eome. 
 
 We walked the whole length of this unrivalled street of 
 palaces, and at every step some new feature in the scene 
 struck my fancy. Here we first saw generally used the white 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 03 
 
 veils of which I had often heard ; and, in truth, the effect of 
 numbers of these veiled figures is highly picturesque. The 
 veils are usually fastened at the back of the head by the rich 
 and luxuriant plaits of hair, which seems to be the pride alike 
 of rich and poor, and sometimes with a silver arrow of tlie 
 beautiful Genoese workmanship. The younger women I saw 
 were mostly pretty, and their figures graceful, though I cannot 
 allow that my ideas of Italian beauty have yet been realized, 
 I should rather say their whole appearance is picturesque; 
 indeed, I was continually drawing pictures in my mind, as a 
 group of girls, with baskets of grapes on their heads, inter- 
 mingled tastefully mth bright flowers, were -to be seen stand- 
 ing so as to form an admirable foreground to some massive 
 portal of one or another of the princely palaces. The endless 
 variety of costume — the gay regimentals — contrasting with 
 and enlivening the sombre attire of monks and priests and 
 soeurs de charite, all contributed to the charm of this novel 
 and striking scene. 
 
 Later in the day we took a carriage to the Church " St. Ste- 
 fano della Porta," to see the famous picture of the Martyrdom 
 of St. Stephen, by Raphael and Giulio Romano. The whole 
 was designed by Raphael, but only a small portion was finished 
 by liim. A single glance tells one that it is a very uncommon 
 painting. As a work of art it is magnificent ; and perhaps I 
 shall only betray want of taste and due appreciation when 1 
 say it is not a picture that realizes my ideas of perfection. 
 Certainly the figure and expression of St. Stephen is all one 
 could desire. There is a holy tranquillity in the countenance — 
 a confiding trust, such as nothing earthly can shake — and one 
 seems almost to hear those words, " Lord Jesus, receive my 
 spirit ! " But no other part pleased me. The face and ex- 
 pression of our Lord are doubtless fine ; but neither is what 
 
64 ART AND NATURE 
 
 I should have Kked for such a scene and subject. And, then, 
 there is a figure of God the Father introduced, which in 
 itself is an unpardonable outrage ! The figures of the 
 men casting the stones are not by any means good. In 
 short, I may fairly say, tliat as a whole I was disappointed 
 with this celebrated work. We walked back, and passed 
 the cathedral ; but finding the doors closed, went on to the 
 hotel. At the table-d'hote we met two most agreeable and 
 intelligent American ladies from Boston, who, having tra- 
 velled a great deal, and lived for many winters at Kome, gave 
 us much practical information of a very useful kind concern- 
 ing lodgings and divers domestic arrangements. In the even- 
 ing we enjoyed a walk on the top of an immense range of 
 buildings, apparently storehouses, erected upon arches all 
 along the quays. The view of the city and bay is very fine 
 from this wall, and the refreshing breeze from the sea makes 
 it a favourite evening promenade. 
 
 It was with regret we made preparations for leaving Genoa 
 next morning, as our short stay prevented our seeing much 
 that would have been very attractive ; but the one object we 
 had at heart rendered it desirable that we shoidd not prolong 
 the excitement and fatigue of travelling, beyond what was 
 absolutely necessary. By a little management and previous 
 arrangement, however, we generally contrived to see those 
 objects and visit those places which possessed the greatest 
 interest. 
 
 On leaving Genoa we entered upon the loveHest drive, I 
 believe I may fearlessly assert, in the world ! the " Kiviera di 
 Levante." The road begins almost immediately to ascend 
 after passing the environs of the city, and from the first 
 summit of the overhanging mountains there is a magnifi- 
 cent view of Genoa, with its harbour and ships, its towers. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 65 
 
 domes, and spires, with thousands of white houses dotting the 
 sides of the hills which surround it. We stopped here and 
 looked back on the proud city below, and out upon the blue 
 Mediterranean, impressing that panorama on our memoiy as 
 perhaps loveher than we had ever seen, or were likely to see 
 again ! And yet as we proceeded new scenes of beauty opened 
 upon us, such as do indeed baffle description, though one 
 cannot help at least trying to convey an idea of what has 
 given such intense enjoyment. The sides of the hills, ab- 
 ruptly sloping to the coast, are covered with the brightest 
 vegetation ; and shrubs that seem more suited to tropical 
 climes grow in the richest profusion. There are ohve and fig 
 trees, with their many sweet and scriptural associations, 
 carrying one's mind to the times of our blessed Lord — his beau- 
 tiful parables and lessons of heavenly wisdom ; vineyards 
 casting garlands and festoons from tree to tree, and giving 
 added grace to each ; orange and lemon gi^oves, with their 
 dark green leaves and golden fruit ; pomegranates and palms ; 
 cypresses hke tall spires towering above ; and the stone-pine, 
 beautiful in itself, but still more so from its associations in one's 
 mind with the lovely landscapes and Italian scenes of Claude 
 Lorraine, Hedges of the sword-like aloe, and everywhere the 
 cactus or Indian fig grow in the greatest luxuriance on the 
 veiy ledges of the rocks which rise from the sea-shore. Here 
 and there the rich berries of the arbutus appear like bunches 
 of coral, while sweet roses blossom from every little nook — and 
 all this but as the minute finishing of the grander features 
 of the landscape. One lovely bay succeeds another, some soft 
 and still, with a pebbly beach on which the waves seem to 
 flow gently, as though whispering sweet music ; others again, 
 have bold and rugged shores, overhung with dark rocks and 
 precipices, the hidden breakers underneath only revealed by 
 
AliT AND NATURE 
 
 the angry foam of the receding waves, urged by the swell of 
 the sea upon them ; while the hardy pine hangs over the very 
 brink, as though vainly seeking its reflection in the troubled 
 waters below. Stretching far away in its calm bright loveli- 
 ness, till lost in a flood of dazzhng light, is the blue, the ever 
 beautiful Mediterranean. The houses and villages, with gaily 
 painted gables, scattered here and there, stand sometimes so 
 high on the mountains that it seems a marvel how human 
 power could have placed them there. The terraced gardens, 
 with statues peeping out from the flowers, and other gay 
 decorations, strike one at once as so in harmony Avhere all is 
 bright, and where sky and earth and sea seem enjoying a 
 continual holiday ! Onward we went through this paradise of 
 beauty, till after climbing a very steep part of the mountain 
 we stopped at a little inn most beautifully situated on the 
 side of a wooded bank, with a grove of acacias before it. 
 Here the view already enjoyed as we ascended opened out 
 still more magnificently. Such a panorama of varied pic- 
 turesqueness I never looked on ! The air, too, not only 
 breathed fragrance, but seemed pouring forth its joyous notes. 
 It was just twelve o'clock when we reached this village inn, 
 and all around the bells of the churches were chiming. 
 
 We climbed a Httle stony path which led us to the opposite 
 side of the mountain. Woods, with villages scattered among 
 vineyards, crowned each of the hills ; and as we walked on- 
 wards clusters of grapes hung over our heads. As we sat 
 down to rest, a pretty young woman, with bright black eyes, 
 leading a little child by the hand, came up to us, and, with 
 a kindly gracefulness, oifered us some freshly gathered figs 
 and grapes which she had tastefully arranged on large vine 
 leaves, Avith the tendrils twisted around them so as to form 
 a simple basket. The incident pleased me, and in such a 
 
UNDER AN ITAI-IAN SKY. 67 
 
 spot ! Nor must I omit to add, that she would not accept 
 anything for them. I could not deny myself the pleasure 
 of calling forth a smile and blush of delight from the little 
 one, as she looked up in my face, when she discovered the 
 trifle I had slipt into her little hand. Our dinner at the 
 inn was thoroughly Italian ; consisting of freslily caught fish, 
 an omelette, and the most delicious figs and Muscatelle grapes 
 I ever tasted. Certainly the whole of this day is marked 
 with delightful recollections ! The scenery continued of the 
 same varied beauty all tlie way to " Sestri." Here, on our 
 arrival, Ferdinando, to our great satisfaction, drove through 
 an avenue of orange trees to " L'Europa," a hotel out of 
 the town, and on the very shore of the Mediterranean. We 
 were in time to enjoy a walk on the sands, from whence we 
 saw the sun set in glory on the sea. Lower and lower the 
 bright orb sank till its disk rested for a moment on the liquid 
 gold, and then left but the radiance of its parting beams to 
 tell where it had been. 
 
 The following day we rested at mid-day at Borghetto, a 
 quiet village with a miserable inn, where we could get nothing 
 eatable. I greatly enjoyed the evening drive to Spezzia, a 
 beautiful little town on the gulf of that name. For several 
 days past, during some hours in the early morning, and in 
 the cool of the evening, I had mounted on the box beside 
 Ferdinando, enjoying both the fresh air and the scenery, I 
 found our worthy vetturino, on further acquaintance, exceed- 
 ingly intelligent, and we had a great deal of conversation on 
 many subjects. On one occasion, after I had endeavoured to 
 speak to him on religious subjects, he volunteered the opinion 
 that he could not think confession to the priests right : " It 
 is often employed for the worst pui-poses — that I know," he 
 continued, spealdng with great energy ; adding, with an ex- 
 
()8 ART AND NATURE 
 
 pression of simple reverence which struck me greatly, " For 
 me, 1 confess my sins to my Grod and my Saviour." I was 
 often surprised at his remarks, evincing very little respect or 
 value for the ceremonies of Ms Church ; I tried to say some 
 things which might he of use to him, and which I hope he may 
 sometimes think of. We felt much interested in the kind- 
 hearted man, w^hilst his anxious solicitude for us hoth might 
 well excite our best wishes for his welfare. The Gulf of 
 Spezzia is in the form of a crescent, and so remarkable for 
 security and every advantage of natural position, that Napo- 
 leon, in his triumphant career through Italy, had deter- 
 mined to make it one of the great naval stations of his 
 empire. 
 
 It was a delicious evening, and again we were in time for a 
 ramble, and to see the golden halo of sunset on sea and land. 
 The variety of leaf and tint is a great charm all along these 
 shores, and of course the foliage was new to me. The shades 
 of green, from the rich dark tint of the fig to the pecuHar 
 hue of the olive — on one side a bluish green, and on the 
 other almost white — mingling with the gorgeous colouring 
 which Autumn was beginning to shew forth, added to the 
 brilliancy of the sunset hour. There are the remains of the 
 battlements of the old castle, which carry back the mind to 
 the past history of the place. But our pleasant sojourn at 
 Spezzia was not without some drawback, arising from a spe- 
 cies of annoyance we have once or twice met with previously, 
 — the natural result of our arrangement with Ferdinando, 
 though not in any degree a fault of his, but of the system of 
 ordinary vetturino travelling in Italy. It is customary for 
 those who select this mode of travelling to contract with tlie 
 owner of the caniage and horses not only to take them a 
 certain distance in a given time, but also to provide them 
 
UNDF.R AN ITALIAN SKY. GU 
 
 board and lodging on the journey for a stipulated amount. 
 As is too often the case in any kind of contract, the tempta- 
 tion to do the thing cheaply at the expense of his employer's 
 comfort is too much for the honesty of the individual in 
 question ; and again, the landlords finding that they cannot 
 obtain their full profits from the vetturinos, who have the 
 choice of hotels, generally speaking, in their own power, de- 
 test the system, and revenge themselves on the unfortunate 
 traveller who enters their establishment under such evil aus- 
 pices. It was some time ere we discovered the mistake we 
 had made ; for our worthy Ferdinando was usually able to 
 prevent any annoyance to us by at once asking for the 
 best accommodation ; but on this occasion, and once before, 
 the question was asked and answered as to who was pay- 
 master, and the amount of comfort to be bestowed was 
 settled by the landlord, without any time being allowed to 
 Ferdinando to declare his readiness to pay for proper accom- 
 modation. This time, however, we were on our guard ; and 
 after giving one look to the wretched apartment into wliich 
 we were ushered, and disregarding the strongest assertions 
 that it was the only one disengaged, we sent for Ferdinando, 
 who instantly settled the matter in our favour. It was 
 laughable to see the coolness with which all the former de- 
 clarations of the landlord were forgotten ; nay, he did not 
 seem to think it requisite to go through any form of apology 
 or excuse, but instantly led the way to a very different apart- 
 ment — in appearance, at least ! This was the last time we 
 were annoyed in this w^ay ; and as soon as we reached Leg- 
 horn, where our first engagement with Ferdinando ended, we 
 changed it entirely — paying him solely for his carriage and 
 horses, and his own services. This is not only a far more 
 comfortable plan in every way, but in reality cheaper, since 
 
70 ART AND NATUBE 
 
 we paid higher for very inferior accommodation : and if it 
 was so with one we had every reason to think well of, and 
 who was so really anxious for our comfort as Ferdinando, it 
 must be a thousand times worse where the vetturino is 
 utterly careless and indifferent, if not positively dishonest. 
 To return to our rooms at Spezzia, I may truly say it was a 
 memorable night ! In the first place, when I lighted the 
 little lamp of oHve oil which had been placed by my bed- 
 side about an hour previously, I discovered a perfect swarm 
 of horrid little bloodthirsty animals drowned in the oil 
 into which their unwary gambols had precipitated them ! 
 I felt sundry qualms on getting into bed, but even there I 
 did not anticipate the dire reality ! Literally, they were 
 there in dozens ! I gave up all hope of sleeping, for I was 
 in a perfect fever of irritation in a few minutes. I at last 
 took refuge in a book, hoping to wile away some of the 
 weary waking hours, and calm the nervous excitement and 
 irritation produced by them and the fatigues of the day. 
 Shall I be believed when I say, that my relentless foes ac- 
 tually leapt upon the pages I was reading, five and six at a 
 time ! It makes me creep even now to think of the horrors 
 of that night. My last resource was to sit by the window 
 watching for daylight. Yet in the morning the landlord 
 looked all amazement when I recounted my experience, 
 and with the dignity of injured innocence exclaimed, that 
 " Madame was the first person who had ever seen anything 
 of the kind in his house." 
 
 The assistance of two sturdy oxen was required to drag us 
 up some very steep ascents, where we came in sight of the 
 Marble Mountains of Can^ara. The heat was intense, and 
 the mid-day sun shone with dazzling brightness on the glit- 
 tering peaks. We looked up with no small interest to these 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 quarries, opened in various parts of the mountain sides, 
 whence have proceeded the costly materials of so many beau- 
 tiful creations of genius and art. The outline of these moun- 
 tains is peculiar, and unlike anything else we had seen. The 
 quarries are well worthy of a visit, but we were both much 
 tired, and the excessive heat put it out of the question for us 
 to attempt it. Unfortunately we got little rest — a wretched 
 room and uneatable food fell to our portion. We met, how- 
 ever, with a civil cicerone, who seems to be placed there to 
 shew the various studios to travellers, and he took us to a 
 little inn, where we got something prepared at least with 
 more attention to cleanliness, though little enough to boast of 
 after all. We went through four or five of the studios. How 
 pure and beautiful the marble is ! Some of the statues were 
 very well executed, but of course there were plenty very poor, 
 and inferior as works of art. In passing down one of the 
 streets, we saw an enormous block of marble destined for a 
 colossal statue of a man on horseback, on its way from the 
 mountain to the town, a distance of about three miles. It 
 had taken eight days to bring it where we saw it, and the 
 cicerone told us it would take at least eight more to place it 
 in the artist's studio. It was moved along upon wooden rol- 
 lers, with twenty-four pairs of oxen draAving it. We reached 
 the pretty little town of Pietra Santa in time for a ramble on 
 one of the sides of the mountain range which surrounds the 
 town. Following a zig-zag path, we found ourselves in the 
 middle of a large wood of olive trees. I was delighted with 
 the fantastic forms which the olive assumes when it is old : 
 all its youthful stiffness vanislies, and it becomes one of the 
 best possible studies for an artist. I gathered some of the 
 pale leaves, as well as some of the bright wikl flowers which 
 bloomed around in profusion, as mementos of that pleasant 
 
AliT AND NATURE 
 
 ramble. The next morning saw us oiF betimes, for we were 
 impatient to reach Pisa. I longed with almost childish 
 eagerness to see the " Leaning Tower of Pisa," so associated 
 with early recollections and school-room days. We arrived 
 about noon, and at once proceeded in search of the famous 
 group of buildings which give such interest to the place. 
 One cannot but wish that a situation such as this were more 
 generally chosen for noble edifices like these. Quite apart 
 from the town, and rising immediately from the smooth 
 green turf, stands the group ; — the Cathedral — the Campa- 
 nile — the Baptistery — and the Campo Santo. Nothing can 
 be finer or more imposing than the efiect produced by their 
 standing thus singly and apart from all ordinary habitations. 
 The rich tint of the marble, which in most parts has become 
 almost yellow, and seems still more so in the full eifulgence 
 of an Italian sun, is one very remarkable beauty which in- 
 stantly strikes the eye ; while the light and shade caused by 
 the numberless columns and arches by which all the build- 
 ings are surrounded, vary still more the effect of the colour- 
 ing of the marble. Sometimes the little airy column is 
 marked by a line of brightness standing out from the deep 
 shade of the building ; at other times the shadoAV of the 
 column is spread along the wall in dark transparency. I 
 dwell the more on the efiect of the tout ensemble, because in 
 the cathedral itself I was disappointed. Perhaps this was 
 partly the consequence of my having heard a gentleman we 
 met compare it with that dream of beauty at Milan ! But 
 for this I should probably have done it greater justice. Yet 
 I know not ; there is such confusion in its form, such a 
 multitude of sharp angles, that to me one fa9ade only is 
 beautiful. The facade which faces the Baptistery, with its 
 numberless columns, is certainly very fine ; but there is a 
 
UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 73 
 
 confusion and irregularity about the proportions generally 
 which I cannot comprehend sufficiently to admire. I am not 
 satisfied with myself that thus it should be, and I well may 
 suspect the fault to lie in my taste, since Mr. Beckford has 
 recorded his great admiration of this very cathedral. I wish 
 I could return to it when I shall have become better ac- 
 quainted with the style of architecture of which this is a 
 specimen. To atone in some measure for the small meed of 
 praise I have bestowed on the exterior in general, let me 
 remark the admirable effect of its being placed on a terrace 
 ascended by steps, adding thereby much to the majesty of 
 its appearance. Passing from the glare of the noon-day sun, 
 reflected on the golden-coloured marble, it is truly delicious 
 to find one's self in the cool, soft, subdued light pervading 
 the interior. Five aisles are supported by a very forest of 
 Corinthian pillars of Parian and Carrara marble. The walls 
 above the arches are striped, blue and white marble. The 
 roof (and neither does this please my unaccustomed eye in 
 a cathedral) is flat, divided into compartments with richly 
 gilt ornaments. The windows are of very brilliant stained 
 glass, but so small that in themselves they are by no means 
 striking, though the very dimness which is the result is 
 soothing after the flood of brilliancy one has left without. 
 The space usually occupied by the eastern window is here 
 filled by gigantic gold-gi'ounded mosaics, which are of 
 great antiquity. Notwithstanding, I think them odious ; 
 but this heterodox opinion must be whispered, for the Sa- 
 cristan pointed them out as the chief ornaments of the 
 church ! In the chajDcl of L'Annunziata is an altar of chased 
 silver, also a bas-relief of Adam and Eve with the Serpent. 
 Two figures by Andrea del Sarto I admired much. But the 
 pictm-e which does indeed enrich this cathedral is a St. 
 
ART AND NATURE 
 
 Agnes by the same master. The perfect purity of her love- 
 liness seems to cast a halo around the painting, I could 
 have wished to have had more time to examine some other 
 paintings, hut we were obliged to hasten to the Campanile — 
 strange, even startling in its appearance ! It leans from the 
 perpendicular even more than I had expected — indeed, so 
 much that I felt quite nervous on approaching close under 
 the side to which it leans ; for one could quite fancy that at 
 any moment a breath of wind might cause its fall. Before 
 we left, the fine chime of bells was rung in the Campanile. 
 One of these bells is of immense power ; it weighs 12,000 
 pounds, and has a tremendous depth and reverberation of 
 tone, tending to shew stUl more the strange security of this 
 tower, which can support the weight of these enormous bells 
 thus violently swung from side to side, and causing the whole 
 fabric to vibrate with the sound. 
 
 The Baptistery is a circular building of rich variegated 
 marble, with Corinthian pillars supporting the cupola. In 
 the interior is a font exquisitely ornamented with lapis-lazuli 
 and agates, and most delicate carving. The pulpit is of pure 
 white marble, ornamented with basso-relievos of great ex- 
 cellence. A humed glance was aU we could afford to the 
 Baptistery, as we wished to spend the little time left us in 
 the Campo Santo. I regret our being so much hurried ; for 
 the Campo Santo is a place where one should either spend a 
 week or merely walk through it, taking in the general effect, 
 without attempting to examine any details. It is the most 
 celebrated cemetery in Italy, and has given its name to all 
 similar places of interment. It was built to enclose the earth 
 which was brought by the Archbishop Ubaldo from the Holy 
 Land in 12C0. Slender pillars of white marble, with the 
 most fairy-like tracery filling up the arches they support, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 75 
 
 surround an oblong quadrangle, in tlie centre of which is the 
 " sacred earth." It is difficult to say what is the impression 
 produced by the enormous collection of sarcophagi, statues, 
 relics of Grecian and Koman tombs, arches, pillars, ancient 
 pieces of sculpture, basso-relievos ; in short, a wondrous mix- 
 tm-e of every Ic ind of relic, and art of almost every age. Some 
 Egyj)tian mummies and tombs in good preservation are 
 placed close to modern tablets, erected to the memory of 
 famihes of note in Pisa. It is a strange medley, and in so 
 brief a visit as ours was, leaves nothing but a cpnfused and 
 unsatisfied feeling in the mind. The paintings are curious 
 and interesting from their great antiquity, but it must be 
 difficult to understand the subjects, and to decipher the 
 figures, amidst the decay and damp which have so much 
 effaced them. One modern monument I cannot pass without 
 a word of notice : it is the figure of a woman — the dazzling 
 whiteness of the marble made more striking by the dim light 
 and dusijy hue of all around it. Her face and figure of 
 queenlike majesty, but with an expression of intense anguish 
 pent up within her own bosom, and hidden beneath a sternly 
 cold exterior that is almost painful to loolv on, so real, so 
 lifelike is it. This figure, we understood, was a portrait of 
 the wdfe of him whose monument it is ; and there was a 
 medallion likeness of himself on the tomb. It is one of the 
 finest pieces of sculpture I have yet seen. I gathered a few 
 leaves growing opposite this monument, and our time having 
 expired, we were obliged to return to the hotel. 
 
 From Pisa we proceeded the same day by railway to Leg- 
 horn, accomplishing the distance in about half an hour. The 
 wind was so high the following morning we entirely gave up 
 the idea of going on to Naples by sea. We therefore sent for 
 Ferdinando, and, to my great satisfaction, made an agree- 
 
70 ART AND NATURE 
 
 ment with him to convey us to Rome. He had previously 
 told us his home was in " Livorno," and at my special 
 request he came back in the evening to conduct me to pay a 
 visit to his wife and child. I was not a little curious to see the 
 menage of an Italian cottage, and was agreeably surprised 
 when I did. After traversing several streets we reached a 
 small house, with a fruit and vegetable shop on the ground- 
 floor in front, and two very neat rooms, a bed-room and 
 small parlom-, behind. Everything was beautifully clean, 
 and the arrangements evinced a degree of taste for which I 
 was not prepared. With evident pride Ferdinando presented 
 his wife to me, quite a young girl, not more than sixteen, 
 with bright black eyes and beautiful hair, arranged in the 
 classic manner so general here, very low on the head, with a 
 large silver bodldn through the plaits. She exhibited to me, 
 with no small satisfaction, a merry little babe of four months 
 old, bundled up in their extraordinary fashion, and looking 
 more like a trussed chicken than a human being ! A venerable 
 couple, his father and mother, completed the family group. 
 My visit seemed to gratify them all, the pretty young wife 
 particularly. She looked somewhat mournful wlien she 
 heard her husband was going away again immediately ; but 
 added, with a pretty gracefulness which seems to belong to 
 this nation, that she was happy that he should serve me. I 
 shall often think with interest of the little home scene I 
 witnessed in sunny Italy, when I visit some of our own 
 
 people at W . 
 
 Next morning it was necessary to prepare for a visit from 
 the douaniers, who came to search our trunks, and what is 
 called " plomb" the luggage. After a civil and not very 
 strict investigation they saw all the boxes locked, and then 
 fastened lead balls upon each, squeezing the balls flat with 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 an instrument which left imprinted the seal of the dogana. 
 We had to pay ten francs for this ceremony, but it cleared us 
 a great part of our journey. Ferdinando awaited onr arrival 
 at Pisa, where the carriage and horses had previously been 
 left : it was like retm-ning home to find ourselves once more 
 comfortably settled in our old friend the carriage. The 
 road was not particularly interesting. Our first resting-place 
 was at Era ; and that night we slept at " L'Autriche Bianca," 
 a tolerably comfortable house, and very ci\^l people. The 
 next day we reached Poggibonsi to dinner : it is a very poor 
 inn, but we had a nice walk through some vineyards. This 
 town was for some years the residence of the Italian poet 
 Boccaccio. He was buried in the church, and a fine monu- 
 ment erected to his memory, but by some unaccountable 
 negligence both the tomb and the monument were lost or 
 destroyed. We were anxious to reach Sienna early, that we 
 might be able to visit its fine cathedral. 
 
 Finding nothing to detain us in the gloomy and comfort- 
 less inn — the best the town afforded, we gladly made our 
 escape to the cathedi'al : it appeared to me the finest in this 
 style of architecture we have yet seen ; built of alternate 
 black, and red and white marble, the effect is most peculiar 
 to an unaccustomed eye. The clustered pillars of the interior 
 are fine, the capitals adorned with rich carvings of figures 
 and foliage. At each end is a cu-cular window of stained 
 glass, and the roof is blue, studded with gold stars. The 
 mosaic pavement is the greatest attraction of the interior, 
 and quite unrivalled of its kind. It is not the ordinary 
 tessellated pavement so common, but beautifully and softly 
 shaded from dark gray into white. Figures and scenes are 
 represented with great taste ; the finest piece we saw was by 
 Beccafumi, representing Adam and Eve leaving the Grarden 
 
78 ART AND NATURE. 
 
 of Eden after tlie Fall. A great part of this wonderful pave- 
 ment is boarded over to preserve it, which, of course, injures 
 the effect, although it is so managed that parts can be opened 
 up. The Chigi Chapel is remarkable for its rich carving and 
 costly ornaments, but we passed on to the library, in which 
 are kept most exquisitely illuminated Missals, The brilliant 
 colours, so soft, yet gorgeous, surpass anything I ever saw of 
 this kind ; and I could have spent an hour in examining the 
 exquisite designs. Here also we saw the celebrated antique 
 group of the Three Graces, in Greek marble, found under the 
 foundations in the thirteenth century. 
 
 Before returning to the inn, I was anxious to see a pictiure 
 of which I had heard a great deal, so we found our way to 
 the church of " St, Agostino ;" and the result was almost a 
 determination never again to go hunting after " wonderful 
 pictures !" Never did I see anything more horrible than 
 this ! A dark confused mass of struggling forms, with a 
 multitude of deformed looking little wretches, more like 
 kittens or rats than anything else ; but I wish not to impress 
 anything so revolting on my memory by recording it, I was 
 pleased with a St. Jerome by Spagnoletti, and the Baptism of 
 Constantine by Francesco Yanni. 
 
 The Palazzo Pubbhco, with its lofty tower, Delia Mangia, 
 stands in one of those large open areas which, in the ancient 
 flourishing times of the Kepublic, were used for games and 
 other popular amusements. The gates of Sienna are still 
 remarkable, though of thirty-eight only nine now remain. 
 
 The following day's journey was truly as dreary, and 
 utterly devoid of interest, as can be imagined. Not a blade 
 of grass, not a shrub of any kind, will grow in this wretched 
 soil. Soil, indeed, it is not ; neither is it rock ; but a species 
 of burnt clay spread over the whole district far as the eye 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 can reach. It seems as if some volcanic devastation must 
 thus have laid waste the whole country. We dined at Buon- 
 convento, a small town. During our usual walk we dis- 
 covered a country road with more signs of cultivation, where 
 the vine, at least, grew luxuriantly. The clusters of grapes 
 hung over the hedges, inviting us to a delicious feast as we 
 wandered on. The inhabitants, as in most of these towns, 
 are most wretched-looldng creatures, and follow in troops, 
 begging and scrambhng for small coins. The road is a con- 
 tinued and wearisome ascent, and at San Guirico, a small 
 town on a rocky eminence, it is frightfully steep. Again a 
 long heavy drag brings you, after some miles, to a solitary inn 
 called " La Scala d'Orcia," standing high up on a desolate 
 plain. There we stopped for our night's quarters. The 
 wind was howling and moaning dismally through the long 
 passages, and large stone-floored half empty rooms. Verily 
 it looked like an abode for ghosts, if not for the bandits with 
 which one's childish recollections of travellers' tales in Italy 
 are associated ! It was yet early, so in spite of visionary 
 terrors, or the gusts of wind, I went out to look about. 
 Climbing a height not far off, dreary was the scene that met 
 my gaze ! A barren monotonous wilderness spread far away, 
 and black heavy masses of cloud roUed up from the horizon 
 all around. The whole country looked a fitting haunt for 
 the very genius of the storm ; and as I turned to go back, it 
 passed through my mind, " How fearfully grand a thunder- 
 storm would be here !" In the large sitting-room we spied a 
 hearth, suggesting the cheering idea of a fire, and sending 
 for some logs of wood we soon had a lively blaze crackling 
 and singing on it. There is always something cheerful in 
 the bright flickering of a wood fire ; and when I had let 
 down some curtains over the windows, and drawn a table 
 
80 AKT AND NATURE 
 
 close in round the fire, there was a looli of home comfort 
 even in that dreary room. Our tea seemed doubly refresh- 
 ing, and I almost fancied my grandfather's graphic descrip- 
 tions of these parts more interesting from the circimistances 
 in which I again perused them. 
 
 Thus enjoying the genial warmth of the fireside, I had 
 forgotten all about my fears for the storm, when there came 
 a tremendous blast of Avind, accomj)anied by a lurid flame, 
 which lighted the whole room, and instantly a terrible crash 
 of thunder caused the very foundation of the house to shake. 
 Peal succeeded peal for some hours, and a more awful 
 thunder-storm I do not remember. Wlien it had passed 
 away, the wind completely sank, and the night became still 
 and quiet. 
 
 A continuation of the same dreary road brought us next 
 day to the barren volcanic mountain of Kadicofani, and 
 through the deep ravine of the Form one. Huge masses of 
 basalt seem to have been tossed here and there, and all 
 vegetation obliterated. We passed Eadicofani, a large 
 straggling house : it is the inn described by my grandfather 
 " as a fitting abode for witches, with its black raftered 
 roofs and long dark passages." Still higher up on the moun- 
 tain, on the very summit of the cone, is the ruined Castle of 
 Ghino di Tacco. A very steep descent leads to the valley of 
 Rigo, where we had to pass through a rapid stream, at times 
 impassable, as Ferdinando told us, and shortly after, arrived 
 at the miserable little inn at Ponte Centino — the Papal fron- 
 tier station and custom-house. Here our ten francs' worth 
 of lascia passare ceased to benefit us, but the ever potent 
 assistance of a piastre easily settled the business. We met 
 for the first time with an uncivil host and hostess, in addi- 
 tion to the bad fare, to which we are more accustomed. Not 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 81 
 
 long after leaving this ill-starred place, one of our horses fell 
 and cut its knees most terribly ; whereupon Ferdinando pro- 
 ceeded to doctor it after a manner more national than humane, 
 by throwing dry dust from the road upon the wound ! 
 
 We gladly welcomed the sight of fine wood once more ; 
 oak, cork, and olive trees line the road, and numberless 
 cascades dash into a ravine below, San Lorenzo is the next 
 town, built on a hill whence we obtained the first view of the 
 Lake of Bolseno, with its picturesque shores, surrounded by 
 lofty hills, covered with wood to their summit. Very beau- 
 tiful is the descent into the valley. There are Etruscan 
 ruins, the remains of the ancient city of Valsinium, portions 
 of Corinthian pillars strewed among wild flowers, caverns and 
 fissures in the mountain sides, which at night are to be seen, 
 as Mr. Beckford mentions, twinkling with lights, proving 
 them to be human habitations. But amidst this profusion of 
 Nature's loveHness, a strange feeling of utter stillness and 
 loneliness reigns around this lake. Not a human dwelling 
 on the shores — not a sail upon the waters — no sound of 
 voices ; and, at the hour we reached it, not even a labourer 
 to be seen ! The beauty of Lago Bolseno is treacherous in- 
 deed ; for amid all this luxuriance of vegetation, malaria is 
 hidden in its most fatal form. We were told the labourers 
 dare not remain in its \dcinity after sunset, and no one has 
 Ijeen able to examine the geology of the lake. No adequate 
 reason, it appears, has ever been assigned for the terrible 
 scourge in so fertile and beautiful a district. There is some- 
 thing almost fearful to a stranger in this invisible calamity — 
 invisible save in its efiects. It might be fancy, but we cer- 
 tainly thought a dark and heavy vapour hovered over the 
 centre of the lake, and we could fancy that the spirit of the 
 plague was shrouded in it ! 
 
 F 
 
82 ART AND NATURE 
 
 The picturesque town of Bolseno is at some little distance 
 from the lake. The inn very prettily situated, clean and 
 nicely kept, with an exquisite view from the windows. After 
 tea, as was my wont, I took up the traveller's book. Amid 
 many strange names of no interest for me, my eye rested on 
 a well-known hand and name, " The Marquis and Marchioness 
 
 of D ," in dear M 's handwriting. I inquired what 
 
 rooms they had occupied, and, as I expected, found they were 
 our own. It was pleasant to fancy they had been there, and 
 certainly lent an interest to the room that it had not before. 
 
 A good night's rest refreshed us, and w^e set off early, so 
 as to reach Yiterbo in good time. Our excellent Ferdinando 
 was always ready to meet our wishes, — starting early or late, 
 as suited best what we wished to see, and even shortening 
 the mid-day rest, if we were desirous to arrive early in the 
 afternoon at our night's quarters. In this, as in all else, he 
 differed from the generality of his class, who, at least, have 
 the character of being tyrants as regards the movements of 
 those who are so far at their mercy. 
 
 We got out, to walk in the early morning, as we were 
 slowly winding up a steep ascent. Very lovely was the scene 
 we looked on. The dewy mist had scattered diamonds on 
 all around, which the bright sun was now gathering as spoils, 
 as they glittered beneath his beams. They rested with 
 lingering fondness on the thousands of bright wild flowers 
 which enamelled the wooded banks by the side of the road, 
 — while the morning mist, rising like a curtain, and still 
 hiding the tops of the hills, permitted the radiant sunshine 
 to fall on a part of the lake which lay encased within the 
 mountains. We could not but own that the dark genius of 
 the place had either shrunk from the contest with the orb of 
 day, or lay in subtle beauty on the bosom of the waters ! 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 83 
 
 A long ascent, which we but slowly clunbed, even with the 
 help of two additional horses, brought us at length to the 
 town of Montefiascone, situated on a rocky eminence, and 
 crowned with an old castle, commanding a fine view of the 
 lake and surrounding country. I asked Ferdinando if there 
 was not some tale connected with this place, and he instantly 
 related the following, which one can but hope is an ill- 
 natured invention. " The Bishop Johan Tugger was very 
 fond of wine — ^comme de coutume avec ces gens la^' interposed 
 he — especially of the vintage of Montefiascone. When par- 
 ticularly satisfied with the vsdne, he signified his approbation 
 by the word 'Est.' On the occasion when his libations were 
 prolonged till he actually expired amid his flagons, he is said to 
 have written, when speech failed him, on the wall at his side, 
 ' Est^ Est, Est,' and thus this particular wine has since been 
 designated." We procured a fiaschetta of it, which we took 
 on with us to Viterbo. It is very delicious, sparkhng and 
 effervescing like champagne, but much sweeter. 
 
 The hotel " Aquila Nera," to which we went in Viterbo, 
 is close to one of the pretty fountains for which this city is 
 remarkable. As soon as we could we visited the church of 
 St. Francisco, to see the famous picture of " The Deposition 
 of the Cross," by Sebastian del Piombo. It is very injudi- 
 ciously placed upon a gloomy wall, as it would require a flood 
 of light to do justice to it. It is doubtless a masterly paint- 
 ing, and yet is unpleasing to me. We intended seeing the 
 Cathedral, and wandered a long way to it, only to find the 
 sacristan absent, at his dinner. We did not wait : the point 
 being very doubtful whether it was worth seeing. 
 
 The road, for some distance after leaving Viterbo, skirts 
 the margin of the Lago di Vico, a lovely little lake about 
 three miles in circumference, whose steep sides are covered 
 
84 ART AND NATURE 
 
 with wood. It is supposed to be the crater of au extinct 
 volcanic mountain^ and there are traditions of an Etruscan 
 city, said to have been overwhelmed by its eruptions. 
 
 A little beyond Lago di Vico are the heights of Monterosi, 
 from the summit of which we enjoyed what is, I believe, 
 rarely obtained, a clear and cloudless view of the whole ex- 
 panse of country around. 
 
 Spread out before us, bounded on one side by the Apen- 
 nines, and on the other by the ocean glittering in the horizon 
 like a girdle of silver, lay that vast plain — the theatre of so 
 much that has been of world-wide interest for thousands of 
 years. In the centre of the plain, the object we had so longed 
 to look upon — the " Eternal City," — towers, temples, and 
 tombs in countless numbers, and the stupendous dome of 
 St. Peter's standing out against the clear sky, rising in giant 
 majesty above all. Yes, there was Rome ! and as I looked 
 upon it what a flood of associations and events connected with 
 the world's history rushed upon my recollection. The magic 
 wand of fancy seemed anew to people those plains. Trium- 
 phant hosts passed along ; eagles waved on high, on the 
 proud banners ; haughty warriors sped onwards ; the car and 
 the chariot rolled on : — the Emperor of the World approaches 
 the Seven-Hilled City ; the arches shew forth the trophies of 
 a thousand victories ; and, as the sound of many waters, the 
 voices of the assembled multitude arise ; the mighty Caesar 
 passes beneath the arch of triumph ; — " he went — he saw — 
 he conquered !" and now fi-esh crowned with laurels, he leads 
 back his veteran troops ; the eagle's flight is stayed, for the 
 world is at his feet ! Yet even amidst that bright scene are 
 broken hearts and bowed heads. Captive kings add to the 
 splendour of the conqueror's gloiy, prisoners are there from 
 everv nation : the fair sons of the island in the west, sometime 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 85 
 
 esteemed too mean to tempt the conqueror to its shore, till 
 the won world could oifer him no more. And now they 
 mingle with the captive crowd who in future ages shall reign 
 when she who seemed but fitly named " Eternal" shall lie 
 prostrate in dust — a very chaos of ruins — " the lone mother 
 of dead nations." With this chain of thought, the visions of 
 the glorious past faded away, and the present became all the 
 more sadly prominent. The trnnult of w^ar, the din of con- 
 quest, with all their pomp and circumstance, have passed 
 away — all now among the things that were. Stillness and 
 desolation reign around her. Here and there may be seen a 
 solitary tenement, meet habitation for the ragged vine-dresser, 
 or the wretched tender of a few goats which feed among the 
 scanty herbage, and start away from the passing traveller ; 
 or perchance the ruined fragment of some ancient tower, for 
 what purpose reared the blackened crumbling stones refuse to 
 tell. And this is the entrance to Kome — this the way to the 
 once proud mistress of the world ! 
 
 That night we spent at Ronciglione — a poor dirty town, 
 with a miserable inn crowded with people, being the first 
 stage fi'om Eome. 
 
 Our impatience throughout the next day's journey was 
 scarce to be restrained, and we hastened our departure from a 
 miserable little hole, " La Storta," where we had to rest the 
 horses, — the last pause in our pilgrimage ere entering the 
 imperial city. 
 
 Oh ! it was strange to look on the " yellow Tiber," — to cross 
 its waters flowing here through a wilderness of ruins and 
 of tombs. As we passed beneath a noble archway, Byron's 
 lines came to my recollection, — 
 
 "Whose arch or pillar meets me, 
 Titus' or Trajan's ? No ; 'tis that of Time !" 
 
86 ART AND NATURE 
 
 In the midst of these interesting reminiscences we had to 
 wend our way to the " dogana ;" hut thanks to a piastre we 
 only went through the form, and were speedily set at liberty. 
 The " Hotel de la Eussie " stands at the corner of the " Piazza 
 del Popolo," quite at hand therefore on entering the city, and 
 though not the one we intended to go to, we found it so com- 
 fortable that we did not regret the mistake. It was impos- 
 sible to resist going out for a little that same evening, but a 
 cutting east wind soon sent us back. The following was a day 
 of rest, in every acceptation of the term, and one which we 
 greatly needed, as the excitement and fatigue of our long 
 journey were beginning to tell upon us ; and yet what 
 
 cause for thankfulness is it that W has borne both so 
 
 much better than could have been expected. 
 
 I do not purpose writing any of my impressions of St. 
 Peter's, save that it equalled, nay, if possible, surpassed my 
 most ardent imaginings. I shall defer it until our proposed 
 return to Eome. Nevertheless, the day on which I first 
 beheld that glorious temple is one to be remembered. 
 
 Here, alas ! we were obliged to part with our trusty Fer- 
 dinando, as it did not suit his arrangements to go farther 
 south at that season, except for a sum we did not feel it right 
 to give merely to secure the greater amount of personal com- 
 fort from his attendance. We parted with mutual regret, 
 and many charges did he give to the "voiturier" with whom 
 we made an engagement, to care for us and serve us faith- 
 fully. This man had come from Naples with a family ; and 
 as he was anxious to return there, he could take us for much 
 less, and in a shorter time also, having four horses. He was 
 attentive and civil, but could not in any degree supply the 
 place of Ferdinando. 
 
 We left Kome about eight o'clock on Tuesday morning ; 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 and had a glimpse of the Coliseum and the Temple of Mars 
 on om- way to the Porta San Griovanni, through which passes 
 the road to Naples. It is with feelings of excited interest one 
 enters on the celebrated Appian Way. It has probably been 
 little changed, scarcely even much repaired, since the days 
 of the ancient empire. But it is not on the recollections 
 which history supplies the mind here dwells ; it is the foot- 
 steps of one man which imparts so deep an interest to this 
 road. Never before did I read the simj)le narrative of St. 
 Paul's memorable journey to Eome with the same feelings as 
 during our passage along the path once trodden by the holy 
 Apostle ; — of his meeting at the " Three Taverns" with the 
 brethren who came from Rome to welcome him ; and the com- 
 fort he derived from this proof of their sympathy, when, as 
 we are told, " he thanked God and took courage." Oh, what 
 a. contrast to the triumphant entry into the imperial city, 
 which had passed in visionary splendour before me from 
 the heights of Monterosi, was the humble approach of this 
 weary prisoner ; and yet when men shall have ceased to tell 
 of the fame and conquests of these mighty of the earth, the 
 entrance of the humble follower of the despised Nazarene 
 shall hold a place in the records of that Eternal Word which 
 must remain till time shall be no more ; and many a voice 
 amid those who stand around the throne of the majesty on 
 high will bless the hour when first the Apostle to the Gentiles 
 passed within the gates of Rome, bringing with him " glad 
 tidings of great joy" to many who were then " sitting in 
 darkness and in the shadow of death," strengthening " the 
 saints in Ceesar's household," and preparing, in the very 
 heart of the heathen empire, that wondrous " way of the 
 Lord," which shall one day issue in the triumph of the Cross. 
 About four hours' travelling brought us to Albano. This 
 
88 ART AND NATURE 
 
 town is beautifully situated on a rising ground, and sur- 
 rounded with groves of citron. Our mid-day rest for the 
 horses gave us time to visit the Lago Albano. By the help 
 of sundry rather confused directions, we succeeded in finding 
 it without the assistance of a guide, and we are always glad 
 when we can dispense with the services of these gentlemen. 
 Though we had to climb a steep hill under a broiling sun, 
 our exertions were amply rewarded. The deep basin in 
 which the lake lies, is evidently the crater of an extinct 
 volcano, and the effect is singular as well as beautiful, as you 
 look down upon its dark unruffled bosom. It seems to lie 
 below the reach of the summer storm or the winter blast, 
 calm and still in its deep recess. Scarce a ripple answered to 
 the gentle breeze that fanned us as we stood on the wooded 
 banks, and looked into the transparent depths beneath. 
 Around its shores, and almost washed by its waters, grow a 
 profusion of lovely wild flowers of every hue, peeping out from 
 their leafy bowers^ among the tangled brushwood. The little 
 towns of Aricia and Nemi are situated on rocky eminences 
 overhanging the lake, and are great additions to the pictur- 
 esque beauty of the scene. For some time, after leaving 
 Albano, the road passes through shrubberies of myi-tle — 
 daphne and arbutus, till the air is ahnost laden with their 
 fragrance. I could not resist stopping the carriage, and get- 
 ting out, to walk for a few minutes among these fragrant 
 trees. I gathered several branches of myrtle, covered with 
 the starry blossom, frequently using them as fans — for we 
 were annoyed by the multitude of flies which every afternoon 
 swarmed in the carriage. 
 
 Cisterna, a somewhat gloomy and comfortless inn, was our 
 night quarter ; leaving it at six next morning, and passing 
 Torre Treponte, occupying the site of Appii Forum, men- 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 89 
 
 tioned by the sacred historian, we shortly after found we had 
 entered on the Pontine marshes. Desolate they certainly 
 are, — in many parts nothing but reeds growing from stagnant 
 water are to be seen ; yet I was, on the whole, agreeably sm- 
 prised in passing through these far-famed marshes. The 
 Herculean task of draining has been taken up by several of 
 the Popes successively, and the road gradually raised and im- 
 proved, till finally brought to its present state of perfection by 
 Pius VI. and VII. The avenue of trees on either side pre- 
 vents one being so sensible of the barrenness around ; in 
 short, as our four spuited little horses earned us along the 
 smooth and level road at full trot, with the sunshine resting 
 on the green plains and trees, so little of the terrible seemed 
 there, I was almost inclined to think the danger ascribed to 
 the lAace, if not unfounded, at least exaggerated. I was 
 some time later all too sadly undeceived. A gentleman 
 
 with whom W was acquainted, crossing the plains too 
 
 late in the day, was seized with an attack of malaria on his 
 arrival at Naples, and being previously delicate, he fell a 
 victim to its eifects. 
 
 At the first rising ground the marshes end, their extent 
 being in all about twenty-five miles. The little town of 
 Terracina occupies a bold and striking situation. House 
 rises above house, and rock above rock. At one part the preci- 
 pice has been converted into an impregnable fortress, merely 
 by the addition of a few yards of building, and a little cutting 
 away here and there. The cactus and Indian fig fonn 
 appropriate hangings to this strange place, and a particularly 
 fine palm-tree, on one of the high parts of the rock, adds to 
 the efiect of the whole. There are some Etruscan ruins of 
 much interest, but the heat was so intense, we could only 
 seek for a shady place for our usual walk. For a few moments 
 
90 AKT AND NATURE 
 
 we stood on the rocky shore, but even there I felt the heat so 
 overpowering, I was obliged to return to the hotel. Outside 
 the town we drove under an enormous rock, which actually 
 overhangs the road, pushing it almost into the sea, and seem- 
 ing to keep jealous watch over the pass of Lantulte, where the 
 Papal States end, and the Neapolitan kingdom begins. The 
 road is excellent, still constructed on the foundations of the 
 Appian Way. It is bordered on one side by steep rocks, 
 gemmed with an endless variety of beautiful flowers and 
 shrubs of myrtle. Heaths, too, of different kinds, cast a 
 mantle of purple over many a rugged precipice on the other 
 side. The sea washes the foundation of the Way. 
 
 Shortly after passing the barrier where passports are ex- 
 amined on the Neapolitan side, we came to a pestiferous lake 
 of salt water, said to have been once the site of a town. At 
 Fondi we had a very annoying search, all the more so from 
 oiu" having paid for a lascia passare at the frontier, and been 
 at the pains of taking one of the officials with us to testify 
 to the fact. Our witness, who had perclied himself behind 
 the carriage, probably had some errand of his own in the 
 town, and, accordingly, had quietly disappeared before liis 
 services were required, leaving us at the mercy of a most 
 disagreeable looking set of custom-house officials. 
 
 From Fondi to Mola di Gaeta we had a delightful drive : 
 on approaching the latter the scenery becomes surpassingly 
 beautiful. Built upon a promontory jutting out into the 
 sea, it forms one side of a little bay. The hotel to which we 
 drove is in the outskirts of the town, close upon the shore, 
 with a dehcious orange garden sloping down from it to the 
 water's edge. It is erected upon the foundations of an ancient 
 edifice, which is said to have been the favourite villa of 
 Cicero, whose assassination near this place is commemorated 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 91 
 
 by a ruined tower still standing. A radiant evening was 
 closing in as we reached this most lovely and bewitching 
 spot. The rocky promontories and tall stone pines threw 
 their long shadows upon the sea ; from many a way side 
 mound of wild flowers, and many a grove of orange and 
 myrtle stole the gentle breeze, bearing on downy wing the 
 sweetness of their breath ; and over the bosom of the placid 
 sea, now coloured by the slowly fading hues of purple and of 
 rose which the parting sim had bequeathed to the evening 
 hour, glided the homeward bound bark, the soft plash of its 
 oars mingling with the murmuring waves upon the pebbly 
 shore. And yet the memory of that hour is well-nigh weak- 
 ened by the scene of glomng moonlight which succeeded it, 
 as a little later we opened our windows and stood upon the 
 balcony. That, in truth, is one of the most delicious reminis- 
 cences we have treasured of Italy's fair clime. The sleeping 
 bay, with its circling arms faintly visible, stretching into far 
 distance — the almost golden reflection on the trembling 
 water, from the intense radiance of the moon — the hushed 
 stillness which lay on every object, and seemed felt by all 
 alike, — and the sweet odours wafted from the orange blos- 
 soms, while the dark shining leaves glittered in the silvery 
 beam — all threw a spell of beauty over our enchained and 
 delighted senses, beyond anything I have ever experienced. 
 
 Next morning we left Mola di Gaeta so early that all 
 around was yet bathed in moonlight — and it seemed strange 
 to pass so suddenly as we did from this, to a glowing sunrise 
 two or three hours later. Travelling rapidly we reached the 
 town of Capua before mid-day. A very miserable dinner was 
 somewhat enlivened by the harps of two Italian youths, who 
 played very nicely. We started as soon as possible, being 
 anxious to arrive at Naples by day-light. Along the wide 
 
92 AliT AND NATURE 
 
 straight avenue, wliicli the road becomes beyond Capua, we 
 met picturesque groups of peasants, in gay red handkerchiefs 
 and coloured shirts, carrying baskets of grapes, often orna- 
 mented with bright flowers. 
 
 But we had little time to attend to them, so anxiously 
 did we keep looking out for the first sight of Vesuvius. A 
 turn in the road brought it at length into full view, and for 
 once the tiresome Custom-house, which at the same instant 
 reared its dingy front before us, was comparatively unheeded. 
 The mountain stood out in beautiful relief against the trans- 
 parent sky, and so distinct as to seem much nearer to us 
 than in reality it was. From its highest point a column of 
 pure white smoke rose slowly, and as it curled upwards, 
 spreading out as it ascended, glowed almost to a rich crimson, 
 either from the reflected fire of the crater beneath, or from 
 the rays of the setting sun. Rapidly we passed on and drew 
 near to Naples, and rapidly died away the glory of the even- 
 ing skies ; the short twilight was well-nigh gone ere we 
 entered the busy and bewildering street of the Toledo. On 
 either side dazzling shojDS, illuminated with many-coloured 
 lamps, reflected again and again from glittering mirrors and 
 sparkling jewellery in the windows. The crowds of people 
 passing and repassing — the rapid driving of carriages hither 
 and thither, the Babel-confusion of human cries and voices — 
 the palaces, piazzas, churches, and fountains, which we 
 hurried past, all told that we had reached at length the 
 gayest and liveliest of Italian cities. 
 
 At the " Hotel des Etrangers," we were received with the 
 most cordial kindness. For many years Madame Ungaro 
 had been the faithful attendant of one very dear to me, so 
 that it was with real gratification I looked forward to seeing 
 her again. Our tea was prepared for us in a delightful 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 93 
 
 apartment furnished with many English comforts, wearing 
 a look of home, most refreshing after such a journey, and 
 all the more grateful that we had so long been strangers 
 to it. I think there is generally a kind of desolate feeling in 
 arriving, especially in the evening, in a large city where one 
 knows not a single individual — ^we were quite cheered, there- 
 fore, by our kindly welcome, and still more so when Ungaro 
 put into my hands a large packet of letters from England. 
 After the long weeks that had elapsed since we heard of our 
 dear child, great indeed was our thankful happiness to receive 
 good accounts of her, and of all our valued friends now so 
 far away. A most comfortable bed, in a large airy room, was 
 indeed a luxury after the miserable holes we have occupied 
 lately, and the extreme cleanliness and order of this admira- 
 bly conducted hotel, was an unceasing subject of remark and 
 gratulation. 
 
 We passed a quiet Sunday with pleasure, finding ourselves 
 once more in an English place of worship, and gratefully 
 acknowledging the many mercies which had been vouchsafed 
 to us since we left the shores of Britain, 
 
 Next morning saw us busily employed in search of lodgings, 
 and having at last fixed on 28, Santa Lucia, we removed there 
 early, and forthwith settled ourselves and our possessions in a 
 most pleasant abode. This part of Naples faces the east, and 
 in the early months of winter is extremely cool and agreeable 
 as a residence, but after November it is the wisdom of all who 
 come hither for health to migrate to the warmer quarter of 
 the Chiaja, a precaution we found it necessary to adopt after 
 a single month had elapsed. 
 
 My first few days' experience of Naples was rendered 
 rather melancholy by an illness which followed my long con- 
 tinued fatigues. But let me gratefully acknowledge that it 
 
94 AET AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 proved only a cloud before the sunshine. It was not long- 
 before I began to be sensible of the effects of the delightful 
 climate. A feeling of physical enjoyment, in merely living 
 moving and breathing, succeeded, and seemed to increase 
 daily. This, added to the extreuie beauty of the scenery — the 
 clear elasticity of the atmosphere — the exciting interest of 
 the objects everywhere around us — and, above all, the mani- 
 fest improvement in my husband's liealth, gave us every 
 reason to congratulate ourselves that we had been led to turn 
 our steps to Naples. 
 
VISIT TO POMPEII. 
 
 BRIGHT morning gave promise of a favourable 
 day for our projected visit to Pompeii. So 
 eagerly did I anticipate this pleasure, that 
 scarcely with patience could I sit in the railway 
 carriage which — with a strange association of 
 the present with the past — conveyed us thither. 
 
 In my earliest recollections the tragic fate of 
 Pompeii was a subject of deepest interest to my 
 ^-^l imagination, and many a lingering wdsh have I had 
 r ' to behold it for myself At length we stopped at 
 — (how strangely it sounds!) — the Pompeii Station; but 
 on entering a gate we found a guide who told us we were 
 fully a mile and a half from the ruins. The day was 
 broiling, the road dusty, but I could feel nothing, save that 
 every step brought us nearer. Turning off from the high 
 road, and passing through vineyards and cotton-fields, we 
 came in sight of the enormous heaps of earth and ashes 
 thrown out by the excavators. Winding by the side of these 
 for a little way we reached a sudden turn, and walking on a 
 few yards, an arched gateway stood before us. It was the 
 
90 
 
 ART AND NATURE 
 
 " Grate of Herculaneum " — the entrance to the " Street of the 
 Tombs ! " We looked on Pompeii, the City of the Dead ! 
 
 After standing for a few moments to realize the strange 
 new ideas that crowded on the mind, we followed our guide 
 first into the House of. Diomede, the villa that was earliest 
 disentombed at Pompeii, between 1771 and 1776. The rooms 
 are just as thej were originally, with paintings and mosaics 
 in the principal apartments. The garden is surrounded by a 
 colonnade of Corinthian pillars. At the gate the skeleton of 
 Diomede was found, with a key in one hand and golden 
 ornaments and coins in the other. In the subterranean cor- 
 ridors used as cellars, seventeen skeletons were discovered ; 
 one of them, supposed from the number of jewels on her 
 person to have been the wife of Diomede, crushed against the 
 wall, where the mark of her form is still to be seen. With a 
 feeling of shuddering horror we left the gloomy vaulted pas- 
 sage, and came next to a building where the ashes of the 
 dead were deposited. Several monuments rise on either side 
 of this " the Street of the Tombs," with here and there orna- 
 mented seats, where once grave senators sat and pondered on 
 the affairs of the Commonwealth, — where once the fond mother 
 sat and gazed upon her joyous-hearted child, dreaming bright 
 dreams of his future greatness whilst he played at her feet,* 
 — where once the sons and daughters of Pompeii, at the 
 sweet hour of eve, sat and looked out on the broad and placid 
 sea with its delicious coasts, and its varied and glowing hues 
 taken from the rosy clouds which mirrored themselves in its 
 bosom, whilst fragrance was wafted by every breath from the 
 rich plains, the vineyards, and olive groves. We passed on : 
 centuries melting away as we gazed — the past blending 
 strangely with the present ! 
 
 * The skeletons of a mother and child were found on one of these seats. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 " The House of the Vestals." Here the word " Salve," 
 (welcome,) in mosaic, is on the door-sill of the chief room, 
 as distinct as the day the lettersii were inlaid. Still and 
 silent all ! A welcome unheard by the ear seemed fittest for 
 that scene of desolation. We enteted and looked around, 
 and vividly came the touching remembrance of the female 
 ornaments and articles of young girls' toilets which were 
 found here. Close to the House of the Vestals is a shop, 
 in fact a sort of ancient cafe, where acid drinlis, much used 
 by the Romans, were sold, with the circular marks of the 
 cups or glasses upon its marble counter. Still following our 
 guide, we visited in succession, the " Custom-House," where 
 weights and measures still in use in Naples were discovered, 
 — a place for the manufacture of soap, a baking-house with 
 a large oven, and hand-mills for grinding corn ; a wine and 
 oil shop, where several " amphorae" for holding such fluids 
 were found. I scarcely knew why, but to me there was 
 something far more impressive in all these httle details of 
 domestic life than in the grander public buildings. Amid 
 these traces of a breathing, moving, busy existence, one feels 
 oppressed wdth the reahty of all around. It is not a dim and 
 shadowy picture, such as history reveals to us. It is not the 
 past we look on ! We stand and think and speak as they 
 did ; we occupy their places with the same bodily frames ; 
 we eat and drink, sleep and wake, even as they did ; the ob- 
 jects around are mostly so familiar, that at first we almost 
 wonder at the awe that steals over us, when we begin to 
 realize that all is not what it seems ! Everything tells of the 
 living, but life itself is gone ! It is but the clay cold form we 
 behold, — the spirit that animated has departed : it is the city 
 of the dead ! Again we wandered on, and came to the house 
 which the inscription, hewn in the marble over the door, as is 
 
 Ct 
 
DS AllT AND NATURE 
 
 the case in most of the houses, — hewn whilst yet the inhabi- 
 tants hved, — tells you is the house of Sallust. In giving 
 some description of it, ii will name at the same time the 
 house of Pansa, which is perhaps even larger, though both 
 are specimens of the kind of dwellings used by the rich and 
 noble Romans. You enter, by a small passage, the " Vesti- 
 bulum," into a hall called the "Atrium," generally surrounded 
 by columns. From the sides of this hall are doors opening 
 into small sleeping apartments ; at the end are two recesses, 
 devoted, we are told, to the ladies of the family. In the 
 centre of the tessellated pavement which adorns the hall, is 
 a square reservoir for rain-water, called the " Impluvium." 
 Near this were usually placed the " lares," or household gods. 
 Opposite the principal entrance to the hall is the " Tabhnum," 
 answering to our drawing-room, in which are to be found the 
 richest mosaics, and finest frescoes and paintings, while oif 
 this room is the " Triclinium," or dining-room. This apart- 
 ment is generally found to possess raised marble couches : 
 on these were laid soft cushions ; and thus luxuriously the 
 inhabitants reclined during their often prolonged hours of 
 feasting ; music also delighting them the while. At least in 
 this way many of the arrangements, of which traces are dis- 
 covered, seem to be best explained. In some of these apart- 
 ments a narrow passage is observed, for the use of the nume- 
 rous slaves in attendance, to obviate their presence in the 
 room, or their passing to and fro therein. All these rooms 
 open into a square colonnade or " Peristyle." In the larger 
 houses, other doors again lead from this species of inner court 
 to places I felt inclined to designate as cells, but which, in 
 fact, should be termed bed-rooms, inasmuch as they must 
 have been used as sleeping apartments, singularly comfortless 
 as they are. I think every one must be struck with the 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 total absence of anytliing like comfort or domestic retirement 
 in all these beautiful dwelling-places. The delightful climate 
 rendering artificial warmth unnecessary, is, of course, one 
 reason for this ; but, I must own, not even the delicious soft- 
 ness of a sununer night, not even the peculiar brightness of 
 the star-light, nor the almost golden radiance of the moon- 
 beams in the favoured clime, could reconcile me to such 
 dark and cell-hke apartments, as those pointed out in the 
 palaces of these all but princely Komans. But to return to 
 the house of Pansa. At one end of the Peristyle is the 
 kitchen, here ornamented with numerous frescoes in excellent 
 preservation. One was especially appropriate, representing 
 the figure of a cook surrounded by the insignia of his office — 
 a spit, a ham, fish, and other articles. From the Peristyle 
 an open passage leads to the garden, or " Viridarium," always 
 adorned with fountains, a basin for fish, statues, and a profu- 
 sion of gay flowers. The walls too, were frequently painted 
 Avith frescoes, representing columns, trees, and temples in 
 perspective, so that at the entrance, looking through the whole 
 suite of rooms, and on into the garden, the length was appa- 
 rently much increased by the deceptive character of these 
 frescoes. The efiect must have been very brilliant ; the eye 
 taking in at one glance courts and rooms, floors inlaid with 
 the richest colours, walls painted deep red, and blue and 
 white, with light floating figm-es on the glowing ground, 
 columns of pm-e white marble, the ghttering spray of the 
 fountains falUng amid the rainbow tints of a thousand flowers ! 
 The " House of the Tragic Poet" is a beautiful specimen of 
 one of these costly dwellings, though it is somewhat smaller 
 than those already named : the mosaics are exceedingly good 
 both in colour and design ; and some of the frescoes are con- 
 sidered the finest yet discovered. One stnick me particularly : 
 
100 ART AND NATURE 
 
 it represents a group of figures in a circle around one man, 
 who is reading to them from a manuscript. The varied ex- 
 pression of interest brought out in each of the hsteners is 
 admirable. On the door-sill, as you enter, are the well-known 
 characters in mosaic, of " Cave Canem," beware of the dog. 
 Formerly, a huge dog with a very fierce aspect, was painted 
 in mosaic just beyond these words of caution ; but this fine 
 piece of mosaic has, with many other valuable things, been 
 removed from hence to the Museum at Naples. A visit to 
 that beautiful collection of works of art, and interesting relics 
 of bygone ages, is rendered doubly attractive after one has 
 wandered through the scenes they once adorned. They are 
 no longer objects isolated, and of mere individual beauty ; 
 they acquire a far deeper interest from the associations with 
 which one naturally surrounds them. 
 
 From this house we went across a wide street to the public 
 baths. The white marble hot and cold baths remain in per- 
 fect preservation — the bronze seats once so softly cushioned — 
 the niches in the walls once filled with noblest statues — the 
 walls themselves yet covered with stucco, richly ornamented, 
 and the pure white ground of the pavement, on which the 
 mosaic designs shew with exquisite effect, enable the imagi- 
 nation to form an idea of the extreme elegance and luxury of 
 this favourite resort. In this cool spot we sat down to rest, 
 and having provided ourselves with figs and grapes, my ordi- 
 nary mid-day fare, we drank some water from the old well 
 still adjoining the baths. It might be fancy, but it seemed 
 to me the water I tasted made me realize the scenes of former 
 days more vividly than ever. However that may be, with 
 recruited strength we resumed our interesting labours, and 
 visited next the public buildings of the town. The Forum is 
 of an oblong shape, paved with marble, and supported by a 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 101 
 
 double row of columns. The sun shone as of old on the white 
 glittering pillars, but all else was cold and still and dead ! 
 On the right are the graceful remains of the Temple of Venus. 
 Beyond this the Basilica, or court of justice, a majestic struc- 
 ture adorned with twenty-eight Corinthian columns. The 
 Temple of Isis is in good preservation, and possesses peculiar 
 interest : the walls are ornamented with the pomegranate, 
 which was consecrated to their goddess. Statues stood in 
 the niches around the building. Elevated on seven steps of 
 Parian marble, was the altar, and close to it, on fluted 
 pedestals, the statues of Isis and the silent and mystic Orus. 
 A raihng of bronze kept the crowd of worshippers from ap- 
 proaching this sacred place, as from hence were delivered the 
 oracles which so long swayed the deluded and superstitious 
 people. It is strange now to look on this altar. The veil 
 of mystery has been rent, and there stand revealed the con- 
 cealed stairs by which the priest ascended behind the statue, 
 and himself spoke from the marble lips of the goddess ! 
 
 We left the ruined fane, and passing on, came to a part of 
 one of the public buildings where, at the moment of the city's 
 destruction, workmen had been employed upon the columns 
 — columns never destined to be finished ! They lie now as 
 they were last touched two thousand years ago ! It is impos- 
 sible to notice each object of classic and local interest pointed 
 out as we proceeded along the Corso to the Theatre. Deep 
 tracks of wheels are indented on the pavement — the tread of 
 feet has visibly worn down the raised footpaths, and in these 
 steps we trod ! 
 
 It is a noble building that theatre : its pillars, its doors, 
 its strong seats, rising one above another ; its vaulted pas- 
 sages : aU are as perfect as though occupied the night before. 
 But no tones of music will ever again swell witliin its walls. 
 
102 ART AND NATURE 
 
 and call their echoes forth. No voice of softest eloquence 
 again wake the enthusiasm of listening thousands ! the stream 
 of life, for one and all, lies locked in the icy sleep of death ! 
 
 We resumed our way over much of the site of the huried 
 city to the Amphitheatre. It is supposed that not more than 
 a third of the town has yet been excavated. This was one of 
 the most interesting parts of the whole ; presenting, as its 
 utter silence does, so great a contrast to the stirring, exciting, 
 almost maddening scenes, it once has witnessed ! We sat 
 down, and silently looked around. My fancy was busy, and 
 soon created for itself a vivid picture of the past. The even- 
 ing before the last sun rose on the gay, the luxurious, the 
 dissipated Pompeii, seemed before me, and I thought, too, of 
 the eve of the world's destruction by the Flood, as well as 
 that which closed on the devoted Sodom and Gomorrah, 
 whose sins and whose fate so peculiarly resembled those of 
 this city. How serenely still, on the eve of the terrible night, 
 sleeps the starhght on the unconscious city. How breath- 
 lessly its pillared streets repose in their security. How calmly 
 the sculptured fonns look down from their marble pedestals. 
 How softly ripple the dark blue waves beyond ; how cloud- 
 less the vaulted skies. The giant form of the vast Amphi- 
 theatre lies part in deeper shadow from the pale moonbeam 
 resting on its marble columns, while scarce a breath breaks 
 the still scene, save the munnur of the fountain's spray, whis- 
 pering soft music to the flowers bathed in its cool freshness ! 
 Oh ! might not such a night as this have steeped in sweetness 
 the doomed city ere it woke to sleep no more, save the sleep 
 that knows no waking ! Then again my fancy seemed to 
 retrace its way — to behold the multitudes assembhng for the 
 bloody games so often witnessed in the very spot wherein we 
 sat. From all parts they pour in : horsemen, pedestrians, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 103 
 
 peasants in their gay holiday attire ; senators in their robes 
 of office ; high-born women with their gorgeous jewels : all 
 sweep as a living stream into the charmed circle. The seats 
 are filled, tier above tier — a countless multitude ! The din 
 is hushed — a strange wild cry is heard : every eye is turned 
 to the dark caverns below. It is the lion's roar ! Another 
 sound rises above the hum of voices — a flourish of trumpets 
 proclaims the approach of the gladiators ; the arena is pre- 
 pared ! A deep breathless hush lay Hke a spell on the as- 
 sembled multitudes ! . . . Too vividly came the picture 
 of hori'or — the touching description in Childe Harold of the 
 dying gladiator seemed acted here. I turned from its fearful 
 idea ; and startlingly the wild solitude and unbroken silence 
 came upon me ! The breeze sighed through the ruined 
 arches, among the walls glanced the noiseless lizard, the only 
 living creature save ourselves ; the song of the bird came not 
 there, — the freshness of nature alone breathed of life ; — in 
 quiet and in stillness the green vines waved around ; wliilst 
 the eye rested on the dark and fearful mountain, with its 
 mysterious sounds, and still smoking fiery summit, standing 
 out against the warm bright sky, as though to remind one 
 that it was the Angel of Death that had passed over and 
 blighted this fair scene. 
 
VESUVIUS. 
 
 1st November 1845. 
 
 ^o we have really been to the top of Vesuvius ! 
 made close acquaintance with the burning 
 mountain, that wonder of one's childhood, 
 that fell and terrible destroyer of cities, 
 whose eventful history has so often excited 
 and appalled the imagination in maturer years. 
 I had always felt that the descriptions one reads 
 of visits to this mountain were unsatisfactory, 
 and did not enable me fully to reahze it as an object, 
 ^"jf^ or as a scene. I do not wonder at this now. One 
 has but to experience it to feel how impossible it is to convey 
 to another an adequate idea of the sublime impression made 
 upon the whole moral nature, — the heart, the imagination, 
 the intellect. There is in it a mingling of fear, and yet of ex- 
 ultation — of awe, and yet of iiTCsistible curiosity ; and along 
 with all this, a strange physical effect upon the nervous system, 
 which makes you feel yourself in circumstances unlike any you 
 have ever experienced before. So at least it was with me. 
 
 The task of ascending Vesuvius, in so far as the difficulty 
 and fatigue are concerned, is lighter than I had anticipated. 
 
AllT AND NATURE UNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. 105 
 
 Having been conveyed by railway to Kesina, a village at the 
 foot of the mountain, we proceeded to the establishment of a 
 man named Salvatore, who is now — as was his father before 
 him — a well-known traveller's guide on this expedition. He 
 is a good specimen of his class, full of tales of wild adventure 
 and thrilling interest connected with the mountain on which 
 he may be said to spend his hfe ; for he told us he is gene- 
 rally up and down twice in the twenty-four hours, sometimes 
 much oftener. We found him exceedingly attentive and 
 obliging, and though doubtless not unwilling to make a 
 somewhat better bargain for himself with strangers than he 
 would attempt wdth the more experienced, he is at any rate 
 satisfied to abide by liis agreement, which is more than can 
 be said of many of his class ; and we had every reason to 
 rejoice that we had chosen him, instead of one from among 
 the clamorous set who waylaid our steps as we approached 
 the village. 
 
 Having procured a competent number of animals, con- 
 sisting equally of small active ponies and mules, with their 
 attendants, we mounted and commenced at once our ascent 
 from Resina. The route led us by a tortuous and rugged 
 mule-path, through vineyards and across open wastes covered 
 with brambles, Spanish broom, and even at this late season 
 gay with lovely flowers. A deep blue sky was above our 
 heads, and a bright sun, whose hot rays were somewhat tem- 
 pered by the fresh breeze that met us from the mountain. 
 The first half mile of the way was well calculated to call 
 forth associations in harmony with what we had in prospect. 
 Beneath the lava on which we trod, and on which here and 
 there, the animals' feet rung with a hollow iron sound, lay the 
 buried Herculaneum, that city over whose gorgeous temples, 
 gay palaces, and once busy streets, the dread mountain poured 
 
106 ART AND NATURE 
 
 death and ruin in a single night. And now, though eighteen 
 hundred years have passed away, its iron grasp still baffles the 
 toil of man to relax. How strangely did the glad sunshine 
 and beauty above contrast with the gloom and desolation we 
 knew to reign below ! After following this path for about 
 three-quarters of an hour, we came in sight of what is called 
 the Hermitage, some distance above us : once in reality what 
 the name impHes, now nothing more than a very dirty pot- 
 house, used as a resting-place and rendezvous by the hundreds 
 constantly ascending and descending the mountain. Here 
 the character of the scene suddenly and completely changed ; 
 for we came upon the margin of that stupendous sea of lava, 
 which in 1822 descended from the summit in one unbroken 
 torrent, spreading out to a mile in breadth, overwhelming 
 houses and vineyards, and burning and burying for the second 
 time the town of Torre del Grrecco. The savage wildness and 
 desolation of the scene that now lay before us nothing can 
 surpass. The only way one can at all describe the appearance 
 of this vast expanse of lava is to fancy a mighty river of that 
 extent rusliing down the side of a lofty mountain, and then 
 imagine its tossing billows, its boiling eddies, its mad whirl- 
 pools, its rapid coursings round projecting rocks, all suddenly 
 arrested, and changed, in one moment, into dark rusty iron, 
 with all their fimtastic wreaths and agitated shapes retained. 
 This it required half an hour of slow and toilsome journeying 
 to cross. The Hermitage stands on an elevated promontory 
 projecting from the side of the mountain, and having a deep 
 ravine on either side, so that it is safe at all times from the 
 sweep of the lava, though in considerable risk of being toppled 
 down from its airy site by the earthquake. Here it is usual 
 for travellers to rest for a few minutes, and to refresh them- 
 selves, if so inclined, with the bread and fruit clamorously 
 
ITNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. lO" 
 
 oflfered for sale, and quaff a bottle of the delicious wine known 
 by the name of " Hemiitage," and which is the produce of 
 the vineyards around the spot. Looking upwards from this 
 place to the source of the lava-torrent we had crossed, it had 
 the appearance of what was actually the case — of having 
 risen up from the interior of the mountain in an immense 
 liquid mass, boiled over the edge of the wide crater, at first 
 in a comparatively narrow stream, but gradually spreading 
 out on each side till it covered the whole plain below. As 
 we ascended, however, we could distinctly trace the superior 
 layers made by smaller and more recent eruptions, extending 
 to a greater or less distance downwards, ere an-ested by the 
 cooling process of the atmosphere. About half an hour after 
 leaving the Hermitage, as the animals coidd proceed no 
 farther, we had to dismount, and pursue our ascent on foot. 
 Here, when we reached the base of the abrupt cone, about 
 four-fifths I should think of the whole height above the sea- 
 level had been accomplished, and perhaps five or six hundred 
 feet of almost pei^jendicular climbing remained. Most formi- 
 dable was its aspect. It had the appearance of a gigantic wall 
 of large scoriated cinders, loosely piled upon each other, simi- 
 lar to those one sees thrown out as the refuse of a forge or 
 gas-work, but some of them huge rocks of many tons' 
 weight. Up this steep breastwork we pursued our way, but 
 less toilsomely than we could have anticipated, even the ladies 
 making light of it ; partly owdng no doubt to the excitement 
 of the occasion, and not a little to the able and willing assist- 
 ance of the guides, who, with straps fastened over their 
 shoulders, the ends of which were given us to hold, cheered on 
 the flagging with their good-humoured merriment. The heat 
 of the sun was not oppressive, — thanks to a very free and 
 cooling circulation of air, which seemed constantly rushing 
 
108 ART AND NATURE 
 
 up in a peculiar way from below, probably occasioned by the 
 heat of the volcano above, and thus reversing the usual law 
 of mountain breezes. About half way up our attention was 
 directed to a large basin-like ravine, which separates the two 
 great peaks of Vesuvius, viz., that on which we were, and the 
 lower, commonly called Monte Somma. This ravine is evi- 
 dently the old and principal crater of the mountain, which at 
 one time seems to have formed an unbroken cone. Out of 
 this vast and gloomy caldron poured, most probably, that 
 fiery ruin which devastated the ancient Pompeii and Hercu- 
 laneum. After about forty-five minutes' breathless exertion, 
 and not less breathless anticipation, we arrived at the top, and 
 stood upon the verge of the recent crater of the mountain. 
 It is a hollow circular space, apparently a thousand or twelve 
 hundred yards from one outermost verge to the other. The 
 sides of this basin are broken and unequal in height, and in 
 one part filled up nearly as high as the brim with loose sand 
 and stones. The rest of the wide space presents all, and even 
 more of the gloomy grandeur my imagination had attributed 
 to such a spectacle. On the side at which we entered — the 
 lowest of the crater, and the one at which the eruption had 
 last broken through, the same hard and black lava filled the 
 basin to the edge. It covers an area of several acres, in huge 
 tumultuous broken billows, sometimes piled one above the 
 other ; sometimes forming deep vortices ; at others projected 
 upwards in spiral cones : all as though arrested and consoli- 
 dated while still in the violent action of boiling. There is a 
 frightful and unrelieved blackness in the hue of it here, as 
 though the unearthly fluid had come, as indeed it has, from 
 the very regions of horror and darkness. All around the sides 
 of the crater, and across the surface of this dark and undulat- 
 ing mass, we observed white and vapoury wreaths of smoke 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 109 
 
 curling up from narrow fissures, which are everywhere to be 
 traced athwart the sombre surface by streaks of vivid yellow 
 sulphur. About the middle of this vast basin of the old crater, 
 rises what is now the living and active crater, in the form of 
 a cone about a hundred yards wide at the base, and perhaps 
 half of that in height. From the summit of this rolls forth 
 perpetually a volume of smoke, interrupted at intervals of five 
 or ten minutes by explosions of ashes and red hot stones. 
 These faU within a hmited range on the sides of the cone, so 
 that it is quite safe to stand, as we did, close to its base. In 
 order to get a nearer view of these explosions, several of which 
 of considerable violence took place whilst we were on the spot, 
 we crossed, carefully following our guides, over the cracked 
 and heated surface of the intervening field of lava. So hot 
 was it in many parts that it was quite uncomfortable to the 
 feet, even causing the soles of our shoes to curl and shrink 
 under us. In crossing the fissures, a stream of hot sulphur- 
 ous air rushed up, sufficient to produce speedy sufibcation if 
 closely inhaled. While traversing this space one vividly 
 and fearfully realizes the awful fact, that the cracked and 
 hollow-sounding crust you tread on is all that supports you 
 over the abyss, where but partially slumbers the dread volcano 
 underneath. I cannot recollect any sensation of my life to 
 compare with the mysterious dread I felt creep over me when 
 one of the guides called my attention to an aperture about 
 a foot in width, under an overhanging block of lava. From 
 this issued forth a continued jet of living angry flame, accom- 
 panied by a hollow rumbling sound that seemed to come from 
 far beneath, as it were the impatient voice of some mighty 
 power speedily about to burst for itself a freer vent, through 
 the frail crust that holds it confined. One feels that were 
 that fiery column extinguished for an instant, the eye might 
 
no ART AND NATURE 
 
 explore clown its gloomy passage, deep into the wondrous 
 world of fire beneath ! The very thought made one shudder 
 and shrink back ! Just as we had reached and stationed our- 
 selves at the base of the volcanic cone, a magnificent explosion 
 took place. It was preceded, as usual, by a hollow rumbling 
 sound that seemed to begin far beneath our level, rise rapidly 
 to the top of the cone, and then burst forth, with a sound often 
 compared to the firing of artillery, but I should think a much 
 more apt comparison would be the bursting of an immense 
 steam-boiler. A shori and violent hissing noise succeeds, and 
 then a vast quantity of red hot stones and ashes are seen pro- 
 jected into the air, some of the former to the height of three 
 hundred feet. The projecting force, notwithstanding some 
 theories to the contrary, is evidently steam, not only from the 
 appearance of the vapour that accompanies it, but still more 
 from the shower of hot water which falls around, and the 
 black muddy substance into which the ashes are formed. Of 
 this, in fact, in a slimy and smoking state, the surface of the 
 cone itself is formed. I saw masses of red hot substance 
 thrown out sufficient apparently to crush one, though it is said 
 they are much lighter than their size would seem to indicate. 
 Some travellers are foolhardy enough to ascend to the top, 
 and look down into the fiery crater, but it is not easy to see 
 how they can escape being injured by these explosions. The 
 guide confessed, however, that it could not be done with safety 
 while we were there, owing to the great frequency of the ex- 
 plosions. On retracing our steps to the outer verge, we passed 
 through a remarkable hollow in the lava-crust, where it was 
 thinner or more porous than elsewhere, for the sulphurous 
 exhalations were so potent as to produce a sensation of faint- 
 ness. We were glad to quicken our pace to the outer edge, 
 and to meet the sweet and wholesome breeze w^affced upwards 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. lU 
 
 from the lovely plain beneath, and which, Liden with a thou- 
 sand perfumes and sensations of delight, seemed the very 
 breath of heaven itself welcoming our return from a region of 
 blackness and horror. And what a contrast was here to the 
 sights and objects we had been contemplating ! In all its 
 own peculiar gladness, brilliancy, and golden sunshine, lay 
 stretched beneath us the most beautiful and glorious pros- 
 pect that perhaps the world can afford. The blue and 
 sparkling Mediterranean on the one hand, on the other 
 that magnificent plain, so well characterized, physically at 
 least, by its truly Italian appellation — " Campagna Felice." 
 Nothing can exceed the varied richness and picturesque 
 objects of its wide-spreading surface. Stretching far as the 
 eye can reach, it is interspersed with countless towns and 
 villages, whose dazzling Avhiteness contrasts in the most gay 
 and happy manner with the deep luxuriant evergi-een of 
 the orange groves around them. On several of the hills and 
 uplands, the woods were still showing the yellow tints of 
 autumn, and seemed, as it were, to disperse the light of the 
 sun with a yet mellower and richer radiance through the 
 atmosphere. How often have we had occasion to remark that 
 we must indeed see, ere we can conceive, the magic effect of 
 light and colouring, which in this lovely climate the varying 
 states of the atmosphere call forth in its landscapes ! In the 
 immediate foreground lay regal Naples, — the syren city ; her 
 white arms extended as if to encircle the blue bay that seemed 
 to sleep in calm loveliness on her bosom. Beyond, the pic- 
 turesque outline of the coast, sweeping away in soft and 
 graceful curves round the classic promontories of Puteoli, 
 Baiee, and Misenum, and finally losing itself in the ethereal 
 haze of distance ; the thousands of vessels of eveiy size and 
 form, resting like birds of snow}' plumage on the water, — all 
 
112 ART AND NATURE 
 
 combine to form a scene in which detail is impossible, but of 
 which the delightful impress will long continue deep in 
 memory, with a power to soothe and elevate. 
 
 Every one knows there is but a step from the sublime to 
 the ridiculous ; and this every one must have experienced 
 who has made the usual descent from Vesuvius, 
 
 The guides conducted us to a place where there was no 
 lava or cinders, but only loose sand, in which the feet sank 
 deep, and which yielded under the step. It is as nearly per- 
 pendicular as the place of ascent. The manner in which we 
 set oflP, by the direction of the guides, who must have all done 
 according to use and wont, was more like the act of casting 
 one's self headlong from a stupendous precipice than any- 
 thing else ; yet, in truth, it is the act of wisdom and of some 
 degree of pleasure too. One has but to throw the feet for- 
 ward, and the downward impetus of the body does the 
 remainder of the work. The soft yielding sand completely 
 breaks the shock. The fresh exhilarating air seems half to 
 bear you on its wings. The sensation is one something be- 
 tween skating and flying ; and while strength and breath 
 endure, decidedly a pleasant one, Tliis is the poetical part of 
 the proceeding, to those who are actually engaged in this 
 Easselas-hke adventure. But to an onlooker, — the foolish, 
 frantic, headlong pace — the involuntary, but most lunatic-like 
 gesticulation of arms and legs — the breezy fluttering of ladies' 
 dresses, dishevelled hair, and bonnets "vvith cracking strings 
 straining to be left behind — the giant strides, streaming coat- 
 tails, and clenched teeth of the sterner sex, — all laughing, 
 shouting, leaping, and anon precipitated helplessly on each 
 others' shoulders, forms a picture of the most unmingled 
 absurdity. 
 
 We arrived — scarcely credible as it seemed on looking 
 
UNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 113 
 
 upwards — in eight minutes, and in perfect safety, at the 
 bottom, remounted the patient animals that were dutifully 
 awaiting our descent, and in a short time regained the Hermi- 
 tage. Here we took possession of a room small and forlorn 
 enough certainly for any hermit, spread out the contents of our 
 provision basket, and made such a meal as our exertions had 
 well prepared us for. In the cool of the evening, we had a 
 dehcious ride through the groves and vineyards which richly 
 clothe the lower part of the mountain ; thus closely does the 
 extreme of fertile beauty rise in strange contrast to that of 
 dark and savage grandeur. We soon reached Eesina, where 
 having discharged our bargain with Salvatore and his men, 
 we proceeded to the Railway Station, and returned about 
 nightfall to Naples. 
 
 We felt that evening, as we laid our weary hmbs to repose, 
 that we had spent one of the most interesting and memorable 
 days in our Hves ; one teeming with lessons of deep and im- 
 pressive solemnity, — lessons of the awful power, yet wondrous 
 grace of Him whose hand has formed ahke these objects 
 of terror and of beauty, whose long-suffering mercy to sinful 
 man, still spreads the one for his enjoyment, and restrains 
 the other from his destruction. 
 
 H 
 
BAIiE. 
 
 FEW days after our expedition to Vesuvius, 
 
 we arranged with the E s to visit the 
 
 classic haunts of Baice and its neighbourhood, 
 Ungaro furnished us with a comfortable 
 roomy carriage, and the spirited little horses 
 took us rapidly along the winding road which 
 passes by the shores of Posihppo. This drive 
 has been recently constructed by Government, 
 principally for the sake of opening up the view from 
 K ' the different points on the coast. The old road be- 
 tween Naples and Pozzuoli, and that by which the ordinary 
 traffic is still conducted, passes through the Grotto of Posi- 
 lippo, a gigantic tunnel constructed at some unknown period 
 of antiquity underneath the range of hills which separates 
 Naples from the country to the north and west. As is usual 
 in this excursion, we chose the new road in going to Baiae, 
 intending to return by the Grotto. 
 
 Tlie islands of Capri, Nisida, Procida, Ischia — one after 
 another — came into view like floating clouds of the most 
 beautiful hlac, resting on an element whose colour and trans- 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 1 15 
 
 parency, in a still bright day scarce distinguish it from the 
 firmament above. When we reached the heights on the 
 other side of Posilippo, the whole of the unrivalled Bay of 
 Naples — the entire circle of its shores, marked by a chain of 
 interesting objects — lay before us. To the far left, Massa — • 
 Sorrento — Castellamare — the site of Pompeii — Kesina, erected 
 on the buried Herculaneum — Torre del Grecco — Vesuvius, 
 rising with its graceful sweep from the rich plains on either 
 side — white to^Tis and villages clustering round its base — ■ 
 Naples, with its castles, glittering streets, and gay villas — 
 Pozzuoh at a little distance, with its deeply interesting asso- 
 ciations, as the ancient Puteoh where Paul landed after his 
 long and perilous voyage recorded in Acts. On the right were 
 Baiee and Misenum, their bays and promontories rich with the 
 remains of ancient baths and temples. Truly one could not 
 wish to look upon a panorama more gorgeous than that which 
 was spread before us. 
 
 At Pozzuoli, we took as guide a very respectable-looking old 
 man, who had served seven years in the Enghsh navy. He 
 spoke Enghsh pretty fluently, and proved very intelligent. 
 Placing ourselves entirely under his directions, we left the car- 
 riage at Pozzuoli, and set forward to visit the various objects 
 in the neighbourhood, taldng with us two donkeys to relieve 
 the fatigue of the rough and difficult paths wliich led to them. 
 Shortly after turning off the high-road we came in sight of 
 Lake Avernus, lying in a secluded spot, and surrounded by 
 brushwood. The sun's rays scarcely reach the lake, which, 
 dark and gloomy as it looked in its deep recess, imagination 
 lent her aid to make us think still more so. It has evidently 
 been the crater of a long extinct volcano, and with its myste- 
 rious environs, is supposed to have been Virgil's conception 
 of the entrance to the infernal regions. The idea one can 
 
] 10 ART AND NATURE 
 
 imagine to have been suggested by the death-like stillness of 
 the lake itself, and the pestilential vapours that are said to 
 hang around it. From this last characteristic has come the 
 name Avernus, signifying " without birds," as the behef once 
 existed, (though the evidence of our eyes proved it groundless 
 in the present day at all events,) that birds coidd not fly 
 across it, that they dropped down dead the moment they came 
 within the influence of its noisome exhalations. 
 
 Passing by its shores we came to the Grotto of the Cumean 
 Sybil, Om- guides carried lighted torches which glared 
 luridly in the heavy darkness. One could not conceive a 
 better preparation for credulous assent to the oracles of the 
 Sybil, than this subterranean passage to her mysterious 
 haunts. There was something to me peculiarly horrible as we 
 groped onwards, in the blackness of darkness, on which the 
 flaring of the torches made an impression sufficient only to 
 render it more oppressive, and to cast a pallid hue on the 
 features of those around. The smell too, is suffocating ; and 
 right glad were we all to breathe the sweet pui'e air again. 
 Mounting our donkeys, S — — • and I led the way along a 
 narrow footpath, up and down steep declivities, between shrubs 
 of myrtle, tamarind, arbutus, and lavender, vdth a fringe of 
 cyclamen, anten^hinum, larkspur, and many other gay flowers. 
 Passing a picturesque little sheet of water. Lake Lucrinus, with 
 a sunny cheerfifl aspect, a pleasing contrast to Avernus, we went 
 on to Lake Acheron. At one side is the Mare Morto, or fabled 
 Styx, the situation of which is as confidently pointed out by the 
 guides, as though they were in the daily practice of conducting 
 travellers to Charon's feny. The whole of this neighbourhood 
 is evidently but a thin crust over volcanic fire. Every now 
 and then we came upon some rocky fissure, whence issued 
 misty wreaths of smoke, whilst the air felt oppressive and 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 117 
 
 heavy. After a regular scramble at the termination of the 
 path, we came upon the road to Boise, lying between high 
 rocks, and revealing one of the loveliest peeps of the bay. To 
 add to the picture, a party of peasants, driving asses laden 
 with sticks, met us, — the women wearing the flat square 
 white handkerchiefs, with which paintings of Itahan scenes 
 
 make one so familiar. S and I stopped to sketch, and 
 
 the women gathered round us, laughing and taUdng, and 
 using ever}^ means of persuasion to induce us to bestow a few 
 grani. Flattery, too, was administered in large doses, in a 
 style both novel and annoying, yet withal so shrewd and 
 absurd, we could not long resist them, and laughing truly 
 more at ourselves than at them — for they at least had gained 
 their object, we gave them each a trifle and joined our party. 
 Again were we induced to enter a horrible subterranean 
 place, though both S — — and I had declared that nothing 
 should prevail on us to encounter the stifling and other 
 disagreeable sensations attending a descent into these under- 
 ground regions, and verily the additional horrors of the " Cento 
 Camerette," or cells in which the victims of Nero's cruelty 
 were confined, might well cause us to regret our having 
 yielded to curiosity or persuasion. To think of human beings 
 occupying such places, perhaps for months ! How humiliating 
 it is to witness the atrocious cruelty to which the indidgence 
 of uncontrolled passions will lead the heart of man ! Our 
 worthy guide amused us by the indignant surprise he expressed 
 at our positive refusal to penetrate into the innermost cells, 
 adding, " Vy you pay de money, den ? vy you no see every- 
 ting ?" He was, however, better satisfied with our admiration 
 of the " Piscina Mirabile," near the ruins of the Villa of 
 Lucullus. It is an enormous reservoir, constructed by Nero 
 for the supply of water for his fleet when anchored in the 
 
118 ART AND NATURE 
 
 bay. It is a perfect labyrinth of pillars, piers, and arches, 
 and a very slight effort of imagination might well make 
 one fancy it a rude cathedral under ground. The graceful 
 celandine forms a carpet of loveliest green, and clothes the 
 rude arches with festoons, while the cool deep shade was most 
 refreshing after the broiling heat of the mid-day sun. Leav- 
 ing the Piscina Mirabile, a few minutes' walk brought us to 
 the locality of the so-called Elysian Fields, — now a tangled 
 wilderness, yet elysian certainly, as far as the most exquisite 
 view could make it so. On this we feasted our eyes, while a 
 feast of a more substantial kind was being prepared in the 
 arcade of a neighbouring cottage, in which, sheltered from the 
 sun, we could inhale the sweet breath of the orange groves 
 which closed it in on one side. Alas ! what a change awaited 
 us on passing through the cottage to the outer side, where the 
 carriage had been sent to meet us. In one moment we were 
 besieged, and by such a troop as baffles description, from the 
 grey-haired screeching hag to the hsping urcliin, clambering up 
 the very wheels and sides of the carriage. I gave a biscuit I 
 had in my hand to a black-eyed rogue, who had succeeded in 
 gaining the top of the wheel near me, and whose handsome 
 face and saucy smile proved irresistible. It was the signal for 
 a general rush on the fortunate possessor, and our ears tingled 
 with the shout which burst forth as they set upon him, 
 ready to tear him in pieces. His prize was seized ; but, no- 
 thing daunted, he was by my side in a second, pointing to his 
 lost treasure, with a piteous look, yet seemingly sure of again 
 prevailing. By this time we had the whole remaining con- 
 tents of the basket ready to scatter amongst them, though I 
 still contrived to secure a goodly piece for my little rogue. 
 Adding a few grant, we drove off at full speed, as the only 
 means of ridding us of their most unpleasant propinquity 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 119 
 
 At Baige we visited the interesting remains of the Temples of 
 Venus, Mercury, and Diana. Their size is prodigious, and 
 the beauty of the designs, in that of Mercury especially, is 
 very great. Between Baiaa and Pozzuoh are Nero's Baths, 
 underneath the ruins of his Villa. At the end of long corri- 
 dors are the boiling springs, the steam from which so heats 
 the passages that one can scarce advance two steps without 
 becoming quite breathless. To shew off the boiling power 
 of the springs, three or four eggs were put into a pail and let 
 down into the water, and in two minutes they were cooked. 
 
 Arrived once more at Pozzuoli, we went to the magnificent 
 Temple of Jupiter Serapis. Even what remains of this stu- 
 pendous edifice suffices to shew how vastly it must have sur- 
 passed in size, beauty, and design almost any building of 
 modern days. The shafts of the three columns that still 
 stand are each one solid piece of cipollina, and the pavement, 
 wherever the sea- water and mud which cover the floor allow 
 it to be seen, is of the rarest marble. Scarcely were we able 
 to do justice to all that was worth seeing, for, by the time we 
 had got through what I have described, we each admitted our 
 excessive fatigue, and dismissing the guide, gladly took our 
 seats in the carriage, giving ourselves up to the enjoyment of 
 a delicious drive. 
 
 In silence we watched the glorious sunset, and the short 
 twilight that followed the sinking of the golden day. For 
 a brief moment a darker purple deepened on the sky, and 
 a thousand rose hues slept on the water : another moment of 
 shade half victorious over light, and then the moon shone 
 forth in her beauty, and night resumed her reign. It was 
 late when we passed through the Grotto of Posilippo, but 
 this only enhanced the wonders of the vast and gloomy pas- 
 sage, dimly hghted as it is both by day and night, with lamps, 
 
120 
 
 ART AND NATUKE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 at long intervals. The unknown origin of tliis subterranean 
 road greatly helps the imagination in the enjoyment of its 
 strange and awful impressions ; and as I looked into its 
 recesses on either hand, and upwards where its lofty roof was 
 lost in darkness, I felt inclined, with Mr. Beckford, devoutly 
 to beheve it the creation of the mysterious race of the Cim- 
 mereans ! 
 
 The Tomb of Virgil, which is upon the rocky eminence 
 immediately above the entrance of this Grotto, we visited 
 another day. It is a sweet sequestered spot, and, whether he 
 was really buried there or not, seems a fitting resting-place 
 for the great poet. A kind of hanging garden, or more pro- 
 perly .a vineyard, surrounds the tomb ; a little naiTOw path 
 leads you zig-zag up the precipice, and when at length you 
 reach the top, you find bay and chesnut trees hanging over 
 the ruins of what appears to have been once rather an elabo- 
 rate monument, though in what style of art little or nothing 
 remains to tell. Above it is a little terrace, from whence is 
 one of the best views of Naples. The hum from the busy town 
 far below falls with a softened murmur on the ear, which 
 soothes rather than disturbs the musing of the mind. In 
 coming down we peeped, through a side aperture near the 
 steps, into the dark gloomy Grotto. The long and solemn 
 perspective terminates in a mere speck of grey light at the far 
 end, across which the diminutive figures of human beings, 
 passing and repassing, seemed like objects seen through an 
 inverted telescope. 
 
HERCULANEUM. 
 
 AViNG, through the kindness of Mr. Temple, 
 the British representative at the Neapohtan 
 Court, obtained permission to wander about 
 the streets of Pompeii without the irksome 
 attendance of the custode, and so made our- 
 selves pretty well acquainted with its principal 
 details, we next wished to see Herculaneum, 
 
 y and proposed to S R to accompany us 
 
 thither, A beautiful day as usual brightening all 
 T/^^. around, we passed through Portici, on our way to Her- 
 culaneum. Though considerably larger in extent than I had 
 anticipated, this disentombed city is not at first sight so im- 
 pressive as Pompeii. But I must confess that when we had 
 descended the flight of steps, and actually reached the ex- 
 cavated buildings, the feeling of awe, almost of fear, with 
 which one looked at the immense walls of lava still holding- 
 fast the remainder of a city of yet unknown dimensions, was 
 even greater than at Pompeii, There is, it seemed to me, in 
 Herculaneum, what I was so much struck with the absence of 
 at Pompeii, an air of gloomy desolation and ruin about the 
 
122 ART AMD NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 houses and the streets. They are so partially disclosed, and 
 seem so shut in by their gloomy barriers, that one finds it 
 difficult to reahze their ever having been inhabited by living, 
 acting beings like ourselves ; whereas I often felt at Pompeii, 
 as though I was intruding into the midst of domestic circles, or 
 scenes of actual business and pleasure. The most remarkable 
 part of Herculaneum is the theatre : it was in this spot that 
 the well was sunk which led to the discovery of the city more 
 than a century ago. With a sensation of mysterious awe, we 
 commenced the descent into this still buried theatre. By the 
 light of many torches we proceeded down the flight of steps 
 which brought us at last into some of the uppermost galleries 
 around the building. Still descending, we reached the con- 
 sular seats, the orchestra, and the stage. It was strange to 
 know one's self eighty-seven feet below the surface of the 
 ground, and yet in the very midst of a place which once was 
 filled with the sun's bright rays, where once were heard the 
 sounds of music and of mirth, where thousands were assem- 
 bled amid those glorious works of art which are now deemed 
 unrivalled ! Magnificent statues and bronzes were found here 
 and removed to the Museum. The noble equestrian statues 
 of the Balbi family were taken from the niches around this 
 very theatre. Certainly I returned from those dark subterra- 
 nean memorials of the past, with a yet more fearful idea of 
 the terrific devastation wrought by the mountain than any- 
 thing else had given me. 
 
CASTELLAMARE AND SORRENTO. 
 
 LOVE to dwell on the remembrance of the 
 pleasant excursion, shared with our dear 
 friends, to Castellamare and Sorrento. No- 
 thing enhances more the enjoyment of such 
 expeditions than the companionship of those 
 we love, and who are ready to enter into and 
 share all our feelings. 
 
 The morning was somewhat grey and uncer- 
 tain, but became more promising by the time we 
 reached Castellamare. At the Railway Station we 
 found the usual tormenting assemblage of ragged urchins, 
 who insisted on snatching up every portable article, even 
 attempting to seize on sketch-books and maps, too precious 
 to be entrusted to such hands, in the hope of obtaining 
 some " grani," assuring us they would " mangiar maccaroni." 
 As we had no doubt of their powers in that line, we did not 
 test them, and selecting a tolerably decent looking carriage 
 with three capital horses, we jumped in and escaped from 
 the garlic-scented mob around ! 
 
 The situation of Castellamare is charming, — built along the 
 
124 ART AND NATURE 
 
 sliore at the foot of riclily- wooded liills. Those villas embowered 
 amid groves on the terraces above the town must be deli- 
 cious retreats for repose and coolness, in the summer months, 
 from the shadeless streets of Naples. So lovely was the view 
 of a projecting promontory, so soft and glowing the light 
 upon the water, so tempting the picturesque combination of 
 lateen-sailed boats, groups of peasants, in short of everything 
 to be desired in a characteristic sketch, that we prevailed on 
 the gentlemen to allow us a few minutes in which to take a 
 sketch, which might recall each feature of that sunlit scene. 
 
 The little town of Vico is boldly situated on the verge of 
 lofty cliffs overhanging the sea. Passing it, the road shortly 
 afterwards winds down the side of a vast ravine opening to 
 the Bay. The torrent which rushes at the bottom of it, is 
 spanned by a lofty bridge mth a double tier of arches, one 
 above the other. On reaching the level on the opposite side, 
 we found ourselves on the verge of that large plain called the 
 " Piano di Sorrento," famed, both in ancient and modern 
 times, for its teeming fruitfulness. It is bounded on the 
 north and east by an amphitheatre of sheltering mountains, 
 and opens, to the sunny south and west, upon the sea ; yet, 
 unhke most plains so situated, it is far above the sea-level, 
 terminating abruptly in a line of rocky precipice all along the 
 coast. The long heaving swell, which in the calmest weather 
 is never absent from these shores, breaking upon the bold 
 rocks, and rushing impetuously into their numberless inden- 
 tations, occasions continually a streak of white and sparkling 
 foam, which, floating a little way out from the rocks in an 
 unbroken line, has a most singular appearance from a dis- 
 tance. There was one pecuHar feature of this favoured plain 
 which at once sti-uck us, — ^the extent and richness of the 
 orange and lemon groves : their abundant produce in every 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 125 
 
 stage of progress, from the fragrant blossom to the golden 
 fruit. Tm-n where you will, their dark and glossy foliage 
 meets the eye in eveiy enclosure, overhanging every wall, 
 filling every crevice. In the higher parts and more open 
 spaces, they contrast well with the vine, olive, walnut, pome- 
 granate, chesnut, and acacia ; while here and there — not the 
 least pleasing objects amid the luxuriant offspring of this 
 fruitful soil, were to be seen noble specimens of the oak of 
 Old England, thrusting forth their gnarled limbs in strong 
 and stm-dy independence, and suggesting thoughts of home 
 and friends amid a land of strangers. And now that I have 
 dwelt on the loveliness cast in rich profusion by the hand of 
 Nature all around, I must mention the grievous disappoint- 
 ment one feels on approaching Sorrento, and passing through 
 the finest part of the Piano. One drives in the midst of such 
 beauties for miles, with scarce a glimpse of them ! The way 
 lies along deep sunk lanes, with walls on either side, so close 
 as scarcely to admit of two carriages passing, and never less 
 than seven or eight, and often twelve or fourteen feet high. 
 Damp, dark, and dismal are these provoking walls, green 
 with slimy weeds, suggesting the idea of long dreary passages 
 to a cellar. Neither is this only here and there ; but in every 
 direction the Piano is intersected with these abominable lanes, 
 to the total discomfiture of the traveller's view, temper, and 
 enjoyment. Nor can the sojourner in this neighbourhood 
 appreciate its delights, save by escaping from it to the moun- 
 tains on the one hand, or the sea-shore on the other. 
 
 In the " Hotel des Sir^nes," which Ungaro recommended 
 to us, we forgot our disappointment. It stands in one of the 
 large orange groves, surrounded with roses and gay flowers, 
 and quite overhanging the sea at a considerable height above 
 it. Our rooms were cheerful and pretty : the whole expanse of 
 
120 ART AND NATURE 
 
 sea and land, on either side, lay before us, and the deep sea 
 dashed upon the rocks directly below the balcony on which we 
 stood. As soon as we had arranged matters in the hotel, and 
 ordered dinner to be ready on our return, we mounted donkeys 
 and ponies, and set off upon an excursion to St. Agata, in the 
 mountains. The ponies were remarkably handsome spirited 
 httle things, especially one which the guides called Zucche- 
 
 rine. A lady's saddle having been put on him, S and I 
 
 determined to ride by turns. It would have astonished some 
 of our good friends at home, could they have seen us rushing 
 fidl speed up a long flight of stone steps. The pace was a 
 succession of short leaps rather than a gallop ; a most peculiar 
 motion, but on the active little animal I rode, not unpleasant. 
 We laughed right merrily as we dashed recklessly on, the 
 guides shouting as they kept close behind. Stopping a good 
 way up this extraordinary bridlepath, we dismounted to go in 
 search of a certain point of view which lay a little to the 
 right. A few hundred yards brought us to the top of a wild 
 breezy hill, and the prospect which greeted us was magnifi- 
 cent. The day became again overcast, but as rain was not 
 anticipated, we continued our route to St. Agata. On re- 
 turning to the steeds, S — — took her turn to mount Zucche- 
 rine, while I got upon her donkey. Away we went on a road 
 that seemed by no means smooth or easy, until one learned 
 
 to think it so by contrast. In a few minutes Mr. E , 
 
 who was first, was directed to turn to the right, up a place 
 which, even after our past experience, seemed perfectly inac- 
 cessible. Such sliding, such scrambhng commenced, and yet 
 upwards we certainly progressed ! And now our path lay in 
 the narrow bed of a mountain torrent, at this season dried 
 
 up, where Mr. R adopted the wise precaution of taking 
 
 liis feet out of the stirrups. Scarcely had he done so before 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 127 
 
 it became evident that our donkeys considered themselves in 
 the light of this toiTent, or at least as its fair-weather substi- 
 tute, for down they lay ! This might be agreeable to them, 
 but certainly by no means so to their riders. Joking apart, 
 
 both Mr. K and I were at one time in danger of being 
 
 seriously hurt ; and had he not previously drawn up his feet, 
 they must have been crushed against the sharp jagged rocks. 
 As it was, I did not altogether escape, my donkey's rechning 
 propensity occasioning me a sprained ankle, though fortu- 
 nately the damage was but slight. The guides persuaded us 
 to mount again, but the first step brought my stupid animal 
 to the ground ; so it was agreed to trust to our own powers 
 
 of climbing, W and S continuing the ascent with 
 
 the sure-footed j)onies. We learned afterwards, indeed, that 
 it is not safe to take donkeys into these steep places, as they 
 have not strength or suppleness sufficient to drag themselves 
 and their riders up. Certainly, after our experience, it was 
 rather amusing to recall the epithet of the master of the hotel 
 when we inquired about what steeds he had, "Ah ! des 
 superhes anes ! " After all, we were little repaid for this last 
 toilsome part of the way ; a heavy black cloud obscured the 
 view, and the wind became piercingly cold at the height we 
 had reached. 
 
 "We hastened to descend, but before much of the way had 
 been accomphshed, a storm of heavy rain came on. We took 
 shelter in a house in the village of St. Agata. A civil woman 
 gave us the best room she had, presenting us with oranges 
 for our refreshment, and we amused ourselves with watching 
 the process of silk-spinning in which she was engaged. The 
 rain ceased ere long, and we set forth ; the paths were very 
 steep and shpperj', so that most of the party walked, occa- 
 sionally enjoying for variety a good tmnble down. As soon 
 
128 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 as it was safe to do so, I got on little Zucclierine, who took me 
 down famously, stepping down the stairs as cautiously as 
 though he knew all about it, and wished to shew his biped 
 companions how they should proceed. 
 
 A most pleasant evening closed the day. S and I 
 
 completed several sketches, and then we drew round a wood- 
 fire, which cheerily blazed on the hearth, and many a tale 
 was told ere we were wilHng to allow that repose was needful 
 after the fatigues of the day. 
 
 The weather was dull and cloudy in the morning, so we 
 started early on our return to Naples. A heavy rain came 
 on within an hour, accompanying us all the way, and pre- 
 venting the possibility of seeing anything more. We there- 
 fore got into the first railway train at Castellamare, reaching 
 Naples early in the afternoon. 
 
LAGO D'AGNANO AND THE SOLFATARA. 
 
 E assembled on New Year's Day — and as bright 
 and glorious a one as ever shone — a little 
 party, in excellent spirits, for an expedition 
 to the Lago dAgnano and the Solfatara. 
 
 Mrs. C kindly lent us her carriage, her 
 
 son accompanying us, and Mr. D , a clerical 
 
 friend of W 's. The beautiful road to Baia3 
 
 was familiar to us all ; but ere long w^e turned 
 off, and soon found ourselves at the Lago dAgnano. 
 The little sheet of water is circled with low swelling 
 hills, thickly covered with brushwood. On the side of one of 
 these hills are the remains of a villa, which belonged to 
 Lucullus, who connected this lake with the sea by a canal still 
 traceable, making the lake a reservoir for fish. We did not 
 explore the ruins of the villa, being (alas for antiquarian 
 taste !) more curious to see the Grotto del Cane, the account 
 of whose wonders ranks among the recollections of my earliest 
 literary acquisitions. In the same thick red book, whose 
 pages were adorned with a picture of the leaning Tower of 
 Pisa, was another, representing the mysterious Grotto del 
 
i3U ART AND NATURE 
 
 Cane. At the entrance, I recollect there is also depicted a 
 man holding the stiffened form of a wretched dog, looking 
 like a drowned cat. Such as it was, however, it made a vivid 
 impression on my imagination. The reality is a miserable 
 hole shut in with a wooden door. Two very flourishing dogs 
 accompanied the man who shews it, to the door ; but not even 
 the picture in the red book could overcome my distaste to the 
 proposed exhibition, viz., rendering the poor animals insensible 
 by forcing them to inhale a noxious gas. I must own the dogs 
 seemed positively disappointed by our tenderness, which was 
 explained by the fact, that when all is over they are fed with 
 some dainty, by way of satisfaction to their injured feelings ! 
 We, however, saw lighted torches in an instant extinguished 
 on being plunged into the heavy gas, which Ues in a stratum 
 not more than eighteen inches deep upon the floor of the 
 little cave. The smoke rested upon the invisible gas, as upon 
 water, producing an extraordinary efiect. From this Grotto 
 we were taken to another close by. The man asked me if 
 I would have a glass of champagne. Though of course sus- 
 pecting a joke, I assented ; and stooping down as directed, 
 and gently waving my hand towards my face, immediately 
 felt a shai-p stimulating sensation in my mouth and throat, 
 exactly like the eflect of drinking a glass of efiervescing 
 liquid. The gidde then made me descend still lower and 
 repeat the same motion, which I did, but too quickly, and 
 the consequence was the exquisitely painful sensation pro- 
 duced by smelling sal ammoniac, from which it in reality here 
 proceeds. 
 
 Having seen everything worthy of notice, we returned to 
 the carriage, and passing through a wild pretty lane, reached 
 again the liigh road to Baise. At Pozzuoli, we engaged the 
 services of a civil looking man, and a sensible looking donkey, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 131 
 
 and set off for. the Solfatara. I can scarcely say what 1 had 
 expected to find at this place, but certainly nothing so strange, 
 I may almost say awful, as the reaHty. A vast hollow crater, 
 its sides here and there decked with low brushwood, but 'else- 
 where bare and almost ghastly, yawned before us. The sur- 
 face of the ground was everywhere thickly strewed with the 
 debris of pumice-stone, and yellow with crystalKzed sulphur. 
 When we had i)assed about half way across the interior of 
 the crater, a hollow sound, somewhat resembling the explo- 
 sion of a subterranean mine, arrested our steps. The earth 
 sensibly trembled beneath our feet, and I must confess my 
 feelings were not of wonder only, when the guide pointed out 
 a lad at a little distance who was throwing down a heavy 
 stone with all his might, from which simple act proceeded 
 this tremendous result. It did indeed enable us to realize 
 the dreadful abyss below, over which this crust of sulphuric 
 lava alone supported us. A few feet from where we stood, 
 an aperture was visible, from whence volumes of light vapoury 
 smoke issued ; and a piece of paper, attached to a rod, which 
 
 J C thrust a little way into it, was drawn out in 
 
 flames. All around this spot the ground was quite sensibly 
 hot to the feet. It was strange to observe the effect of the 
 sun's rays on the crystallized sulphur which covered every 
 object. At a distance the universal yellow colour was 
 ghastly, but on a nearer approach, each little yellow stone, 
 stunted shrub, and bare rock, were changed as by a faiiy 
 touch, into sparkling beauty, reflecting a thousand prismatic 
 hues, and relieving by this magic splendour much of the 
 
 associated terror of the place. J C and the guide 
 
 diligently employed themselves in collecting for us specimens 
 of these sulphurs, formed on loose pieces of lava, of every 
 variety of colour ; but, " like the snow-flake on the river, 
 
132 ART AND NATURE 
 
 one moment seen, then gone for ever," we had little more 
 than time to admire their sparkling radiance, ere it had 
 vanished. Some few, however, which we took home, retained 
 the crystals in a slight degree. 
 
 This nearly extinguished crater is called the " Pulse of 
 Vesuvius ;" and though twelve or fifteen miles' distant, is 
 supposed to be connected with the latter in its action. Com- 
 mon report says, that when the Solfatara shews its ordinaiy 
 signs of life, Vesuvius may be considered quiescent ; but that 
 when these cease, the mountain may be considered dangerous. 
 This volcano is also thought to have been active before any 
 such appearance had been observed in Vesuvius. Whether 
 this be the case or not it is difficult to say, as there does not 
 seem any sufficient ground for fixing the comparative date of 
 either, if we except what the guides told us, viz., that some 
 late excavations in the neighbourhood of the Solfatara have 
 brought to light relics which are ascribed to an era more 
 remote than any connected with discoveries in these parts ; 
 while some believe that there is good ground for the assertion, 
 that a city, unknown even by name, is still lying buried within 
 the once fatal range of the Solfatara. 
 
 I have dwelt more upon the natural beauties of Naples and 
 its environs than upon the works of art ; for though not 
 devoid of the latter, assuredly to the stranger the former are 
 more striking and attractive. With the churches in Naples 
 I was generally greatly disappointed, — gaudy finery and bad 
 taste being their distinguishing features ; while the ceremo- 
 nies of the Church, as observed there, seem to me to be 
 devoid of even the semblance of devotion. I cannot conceive 
 any human being finding even outward attraction in any of 
 them. For instance, on the most solemn occasion of Neapo- 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 1H3 
 
 litan observance, the liquefying of the blood of St. Gennaro, 
 as far as we could ascertain, nothing but the most absurd 
 charlatanry was exhibited. Finding that he could not wit- 
 ness this famous ceremony without in appearance joining 
 
 with the admiring crowd who knelt around, W would 
 
 not gratify his curiosity ; but we heard enough from a gentle- 
 man who had been present, to make us doubt whether even 
 the priests themselves are self-deceived ; while the deluded 
 people, though professing great anxiety to obtain this mark 
 of the approbation, or continued protection, of their patron 
 saint, were yet jabbering, laughing, and grimacing, among 
 themselves, without anything like seriousness. 
 
 Many of the priests here seem to be from the ranks of the 
 common people, and to be regarded with little reverence. In 
 short, as far as our very slight opportunities of judging may 
 enable us to form an opinion, I should say that the Neapoli- 
 tans of the lower classes have, from some reason or other, 
 very little respect indeed either for their priests or their 
 Church. 
 
 But to pass from a subject on which I admit myself to be 
 little competent to enter, let me notice a few works of art in 
 Naples, which, whatever the outdoor attractions of this bright 
 region, cannot be passed over by any who appreciate the pro- 
 ductions of genius. 
 
 In the Capella di St. Severo, a small chapel attached to 
 one of the palaces near the Toledo, are three pieces of sculp- 
 ture of a remarkable character. The first is a statue of 
 Modesty, by Corradini, veiled from head to foot, while yet 
 the fair and feminine features are distinctly visible through 
 the gauzelike texture of the veil : it is not only curious as a 
 work of art, but beautiful in itself. The second is termed 
 " Vice undeceived." The idea is represented by the figure of 
 
i34 ART AND NATURE 
 
 a man struggling in the meshes of a strong net, in wliicli he 
 seems hopelessly entangled, but from which he is endeavour- 
 ing to free himself by the aid of the G enius of Good Sense, a 
 female figure standing near him. The third is alike peculiar, 
 and much more affecting : a figure of our Lord extended on 
 a bier, covered with a linen cloth, through which the features, 
 stamped with the impress of death, are plainly revealed. 
 The sculptor was San Martino. 
 
 I almost regret not having written down some impressions 
 of what I saw in the Museum, to which I made many visits, 
 often of hours at a time ; but it seemed so far beyond my 
 powers to do justice to the numberless objects of interest 
 there assembled, that I foolishly left it wholly undone. And 
 now that I have seen it for the last time, I am compelled 
 hastily to jot down the names of some three or four, which 
 after all, are precisely those I am least likely to forget. In 
 the second division of the Gallery of Sculpture are the famous 
 equestrian statues of the Balbi ft^imily, brought from the 
 Theatre of Herculaneum ; but noble as they are, they excited 
 in me none of the deep interest called forth as I stood before 
 the half reclining figure of Agrippina, the mother of Nero. 
 The deep nerveless despair expressed in every line of that 
 form, as well as in the lineaments of the face, is a master- 
 piece of sculpture. It moves one with the very pathos 
 of a picture ; nay, few are the paintings which could even 
 equal the power of such sculpture as this, I could fancy that 
 stern Koman matron to have just learnt the cruel decree of 
 her unnatural son, — her knowledge of his ferocious nature 
 causing her at once to feel that her doom was sealed ; — while 
 dim and afar ofi" she sees the hour when he lay a helpless 
 infant in her arms ! It matters not that one has had but 
 little sjonpathy with that woman's life and histor}'. She is 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 135 
 
 there a mother with a mother's anguish, condemned to die 
 by the son whom she bore ! 
 
 Among the busts is an Aristides, which I thought one of 
 the finest in the gallery. The Venus of Praxiteles, the rival 
 of the Medici, is unquestionably very beautiful, yet I hope I 
 shall admire more the Venus at Florence, or I shall not be 
 fully satisfied. The far-famed Toro Farnese is a splendid 
 colossal group ; but though I would not underrate it by any 
 means, it is not of the kind I much admire. Even in tliis 
 cursory glance, I must not pass by the exquisite collection of 
 bronzes, Etruscan vases, and miscellaneous treasures brought 
 from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Days might well be spent 
 among them : the classic forms of many, even of the com- 
 monest articles in domestic use, seem to tell of a time when 
 taste, and the perception of the beautiful, more generally 
 embued men's minds than now. The lamps especially I 
 admired exceedingly. But I must not linger even in this 
 most fascinating portion of the galleries ; neither among those 
 bracelets, rings, and brooches, which shewed the fair Pom- 
 peians to have been as fully possessed by the female love of 
 jewels and ornaments as any lady of the nineteenth century, 
 with the advantage — shall I venture to say it .^ — of a purer 
 taste ! 
 
 In the picture department, which, as a collection, is a 
 secondary one, I was pleased A\dth a portrait of Christopher 
 Columbus, by Parmegiano. The eye is clear and penetrat- 
 ing, the brow calm and thoughtful, the whole face in keep- 
 ing with the character drawn by the hand of Washington 
 Ii-ving, in which the touching details of the long-tried patience 
 and many misfortunes of this noble man excite the deepest 
 interest in all connected with him. 
 
 The two Correggios, the Madonna di Coniglia, and the 
 
130 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 Marriage of St. Catherine, are well known. Domenichino's 
 " Angelo Custode" is a lovely subject, well treated. The 
 Madonna and Infant Saviour, one of Kaphael's early paint- 
 ings, is full of the tender softness and purity for which his 
 earliest style is so remarkable. The St. John, by Leonardo 
 da Vinci, completes the number of the pictures which parti- 
 cularly interested me. 
 
PiESTUM. 
 
 NE of the objects of deepest interest to me has 
 long been the beautiful niins of Pfestuni. 
 Many obstacles came in the way, and I had 
 almost given up the hope of ever seeing them, 
 ^- when, quite unexpectedly, an opportunity 
 offered for my accompanying some friends thither. 
 The day dawned bright and beautiful, and shortly 
 after eight o'clock we proceeded to the railway. 
 -^^jSy As far as Pompeii, the country through which we 
 '.rsf passed was familiar, but from thence to Nocera was 
 new. At Nocera we left the railway, and engaged a carriage 
 to take us to Salerno, and next day to Psestum. The town of 
 Nocera, formerly Nuceria, is very ancient. It was destroyed 
 by Hannibal, and partially rebuilt not long after. From 
 thence to La Cava the country is very rich and beautiful. 
 La Cava is a quaint old town, situated among hanging woods, 
 and deep ravines, encircled with mountains of every form and 
 outline. The glimpses of the deep blue sea here and there, 
 prepared one for the glorious scene which bm-sts upon the eye 
 when the full view of the Bay of Salerno is revealed. It 
 
138 ART AND NATURE 
 
 was a lovely evening. The distant outlines stood clear and 
 distinct against tl;e brilliant liues of sunset : sl?y, earth, and 
 sea flushed with the richest rose colour, which gradually 
 softened and darkened into that peculiar deep lilac which is 
 so lovely, "BeUa Itaha!'' how utterly does every attempt 
 to describe thee fail ! Nothing but memory can give back 
 even for a moment those scenes of lovehness. 
 
 The evening passed quickly away at the Vittoria Hotel, in 
 Salerno, and I completed several of my sketches. I was com- 
 missioned to arouse the party next morning, as we proposed 
 starting very early. There certainly was little fear of my 
 neglecting this, as I was far too much on the qui vive, and 
 too full of anticipation to sleep soundly. The morning was 
 fresh and clear, and we were in the carriage by five o'clock. 
 I was surprised, as daylight dawned, to see the fine scenery 
 through which we were passing, having always imagined the 
 only attraction of Psestum to be the Temples. But the chain 
 of mountains, the wooded slopes, and picturesque clumps of 
 trees in the plains would have been beautiful anywhere. By 
 nine o'clock we reached the Silarius, a rapid stream, which we 
 had to cross by a most primitive land of feriy, and very soon 
 were near enough to catch a view of the Temples. I had 
 heard so much of the beauty of the first sight of them from 
 the sea, that I expected the same from the road, and must 
 confess I thought it less imposing than imagination had pic- 
 tured ; probably from the flatness of the plain, and the 
 luxuriance of the brushwood with which it is overgrown. 
 But if compelled for a passing moment to own that the 
 reality had fiillen short of anticipation, I was perhaps all the 
 more impressed when we actually arrived, and they stood 
 before us in their majestic beauty. The nearest to the road, 
 and the smallest of the Temples, is tliat of Ceres, supposed to 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 139 
 
 be of somewhat later date than the others. The Temple of 
 Neptune and the BasiHca are at some distance, and stand 
 close together. The walls of the ancient city can easily be 
 traced by the fragments of them still remaining. Besides evi- 
 dent vestiges of a theatre or amphitheatre, there are several 
 other portions of ruined buildings belonging to an equally 
 remote age. One gateway is standing, — a noble arch of 
 massive stone. On the keystone a female figure is distinctly 
 visible, holding a rose. 
 
 What a panorama of interest and beauty is before you on 
 entering the plain itself ! The exquisite proportions of the 
 Temples, the rich warm tints which the hand of Time has 
 stamped upon them, as they stand out in bold rehef against 
 the clear sky ; the blue sea in the distance, and the chain of 
 mountains almost as blue — the same sea, the same mountains 
 that looked on them in their early beauty, still adding charms 
 to the venerable majesty of their decay. The scene itself, 
 with the strange wild figures that cluster in groups around, 
 clad in their undressed bufialo skins, — is all so wild and 
 striking, it scarcely needs the yet deeper interest of the most 
 remote antiquity and classic associations. The solitary still- 
 ness which reigns around is entirely in keeping with all this, 
 and I mentally resolved, coute qui coute, to secure as much 
 as possible the enjoyment of it. 
 
 As we left the carriage, we were as usual followed by a 
 whole troop of men, women, and children, — all whining, 
 begging, and howling, — till I was fairly distracted. In vain 
 I appealed to my companions, — could nothing be done ? 
 Patience was the remedy suggested, and truly it was greatly 
 needed. However, I resolved on trjdng some more active 
 measure, and, stopping abruptly, mustered my worst Italian 
 and best Neapolitan, and in a decided voice announced to the 
 
140 ART AND NATURE 
 
 rabble, that not one who advanced a single step farther, or 
 uttered another word, should have anything — not a scrap from 
 our basket — " non un grano." The effect was electrical. 
 There was a pause : and I will not say that my heart did not 
 beat quicker as I met the flashing eyes of those wild-looking 
 men, some of them probably but lately bandits ; but I steadily 
 repeated my declaration, adding, that if they would quietly 
 go away now, they should all have something before our de- 
 parture. Just as one has seen a herd of deer turn rapidly 
 round and run off", stopping at some distance to take a look, 
 so the whole troop took themselves off, leaving us in peace. 
 I was not a little pleased at my success, on which my compa- 
 nions also cordially congratulated me. 
 
 Taking my sketch-book, I left the rest of the party, and 
 intensely did I enjoy that solitary ramble. Sitting down 
 on a broken marble pedestal, I amused myself with creating 
 in my mind pictures of the past. 
 
 I doubt not that every one who has spent an houi- in tliese 
 deserted plains has felt an influence on the mind, leading- 
 it to dream of bygone ages, and insensibly to mingle the 
 objects on which the eye now rests, with associations of times 
 and beings that once gave them life. As I sat there — with 
 the tangled brake and untrained vine around — I saw the fair 
 city with its palaces, the fallen altars raised, the streets busy ; 
 the occupation — the ftimiliar scenes of life — enlivening the 
 now silent solitude. But even when brightest, a dark shadow 
 passes over the pictured scene — the shadow of the tomb ! — 
 filling the mind with awe, as it realizes the millions and 
 millions of human beings, who, since the creation of these 
 mighty Temples, have passed away, and are to us as though 
 they had never been. Generation after generation has come 
 and gone — mingled with the dust, — and yet each rolling age 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 141 
 
 as it passed onwards, has left tliese Temples even as it found 
 them ! Visited in the days of Cajsar Augustus for their 
 wonderful antiquity, there they stand in their stern and 
 solitary brotherhood unscathed by Time — ^alone defpng that 
 power which has triumphed over all beside : sole links, as it 
 were, with ages so entirely passed away, as to have left no 
 other trace behind ! How forcibly do the words of Scripture 
 come to remembrance, "As for man his days are hke the 
 grass : as a flower of the field so he flourisheth ; for the wind 
 passeth over it and it is gone, and the place thereof knoweth 
 it no more for ever." 
 
 Very unwilKngly I was at length obliged to obey a summons 
 to partake of the contents of our basket, which I found spread 
 out on the green turf, within the Temple of Neptune ; our 
 seats were some of the broken pedestals which lay around ! 
 Having finished our repast in this memorable banquet-hall, 
 we summoned the whole troop of beggars from about the little 
 hostelry, and divided among them the remaining contents of 
 the basket. How I longed to be able to sketch the group as 
 they crowded round us ! What pictures they would have 
 made, with their fine guerilla faces, large flashing eyes, dark 
 brown limbs and picturesque dress. The women were for the 
 most part very striking in appearance ; their eyes generally 
 superb ; the short skirts of their dresses hung in tatters to the 
 knee ; and all had either white or scarlet handkerchiefs put 
 square upon the head, from underneath which their long 
 hair appeared, bound in smooth braids or gathered in knots 
 behind. 
 
 While standing not far from the Temple, a delicious fra- 
 gi'ance was borne to me on the breeze, whence proceeding I 
 knew not ; but ere long, as I was crossing a part of the plain 
 off" the more beaten track, I came to such a quantity of 
 
142 ART AND NATUEE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 \dolets, SO purely, darkly blue, that their reflected hue was 
 shed all around, — reminding me of a scene in my childhood, 
 far away indeed, yet brought back with strange distinctness 
 at that moment — the woods at Stoke Park, the swelling 
 banks of Barn Wood in spring, when the deep blue of the 
 wild hyacinth cast a mantle of the loveliest colour all around. 
 Never, since the time I last looked on these, have I beheld 
 anything like this spot in the plains of Pa3stum. How little 
 I then dreamed of the scene that would next recall those 
 woods with all their associations to my mind ! 
 
 I was so fortunate as to discover, whilst taking up a root 
 I wished to carry away with me, a small terra-cotta head — a 
 honafide antique — which I shall ever greatly prize. 
 
 The hour for our departure came but too soon. The 
 carriage was again surrounded by the eager claimants of our 
 promised reward, and we drove off, showering among them 
 handfuls of the small coins with which we were purposely 
 provided. I stood up in the carriage and watched the Temples 
 as they became more and more indistinct ; and vividly will 
 their remembrance live in my memory long, long after I shall 
 have left the land where they are. 
 
 Our homeward drive was lighted by the crimson hues of the 
 evening sky, and one of the most glorious sunsets I have yet 
 seen. We reached the Vittoria, in Salerno, soon after eight 
 o'clock, and retired early to rest, to fit ourselves for next 
 day's excursion to Amalfi. 
 
AMALFI. 
 
 GAIN the sun shone brightly upon us as we 
 rode through the streets of Salerno, and 
 wound our way along a narrow footpath cut 
 in the face of almost perpendicular cliffs. 
 It was now and then precipitous enough to 
 make me feel giddy, and I was at times obhged to 
 look away, and leave my mule to its own devices. 
 Every feeHng of awe, however, is completely re- 
 -^'1 lieved by the soft and witching beauty of earth and 
 ' sky, which there, and on that delicious day, blended 
 together so as to form a scene such as the most creative and 
 poetic imagination must actually behold ere it can conceive. 
 
 What principally distinguishes the Bay of Salerno from 
 that of Naples, of which it is the acknowledged rival, is, that 
 instead of the sloping shores, innumerable indentations, and 
 softly sweeping promontories of the latter, Salerno is one grand, 
 almost unbroken circle, of which the background nearly of 
 the whole circuit is the maritime branch of the gigantic 
 Apennines, whose sunny peaks in the far inland, tower in 
 dazzling relief into the clear blue ether, as distinct and sharp 
 
144 
 
 ART AND NATURE 
 
 in outline as if within half a mile. Their nearer branches 
 come down abruptly upon the sea, and circle round the calm 
 sleeping waters of this lovely bay, with a barrier of volcanic 
 cliffs of the most fantastic forms. They give one the idea of 
 detached mountains lifted from their bases, and piled one 
 against another ; so that one feels in looking at them, how 
 easily the absurdity of the ancient fable may be pardoned, of 
 the giants piling up rocks to scale the heavens, of which this 
 region is the fancied scene. And yet over all this grandeur 
 and sublimity there is ever a subdued and pearly softness 
 that wins the heart to love and feel, as well as to admire these 
 works of God. There is ever that magical effect — that charm 
 peculiar to these shores — the colouring of mere light and 
 atmosphere, which seems to throw a veil of almost spiritual 
 beauty over every feature of the landscape. One does not see 
 how this effect is produced, what there is in the ordinary 
 elements of land, air, or water to produce them ; but the 
 effect is there, enchanting every sense : seen upon the bosom 
 of an ocean, whose blue vies with the profoundest depths of 
 heaven's vault above ; reflected from mountains and plains, 
 whose surface gives back each varying shade of light with the 
 truth and poetry of nature ; felt in the gentle breeze which 
 fans the cheek with a downy wing, gladdens the heart, and 
 makes one feel what happiness it may be even to live and 
 breathe. There are seasons, indeed days, and hours of the day, 
 when such effects of this favoured climate are more especially 
 visible ; but even in the depth of winter they are rarely and 
 but briefly absent. You look up into the sky, and seldom 
 can you connect the idea of cold and storm with such a flood 
 of light and brilliancy. You look around upon the landscape, 
 and though nothing may be seen but masses of flinty rock in 
 one direction, a sandy beech or swampy plain in another, or 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 145 
 
 a world of water in a third, yet neither barrenness nor mono- 
 tony is suggested by them : of barrenness truly no part of 
 nature can here be accused. Wherever a handful of earth has 
 fallen on a shelf of rock, there something rich and luxuriant 
 will be found to flourish. The fertihty of the soil throughout 
 this region is marvellous. The fields of the husbandman are 
 literally, as their own poetic idea has expressed it, " ploughed 
 by the sunbeams." In many parts they have but to cast in 
 the seed, plant the vine and the orange tree, and without 
 farther care or culture, the bountiful earth returns them a 
 thousandfold. Indeed there seems nothing to check Nature 
 in such a climate but exertions so profuse that they may 
 well call for the rest wliich yet she scarcely seems to need. 
 How difficult was it for us, accustomed to the stormy skies 
 and melancholy climate of a northern winter, to realize a 
 day of January in that grateful sunshine, balmy air, and 
 lively landscape, bathed in light as rich and mellow as the 
 best and brightest of England's summer ! This difficulty was 
 not lessened by a profusion of violets, primroses, and lovely 
 wild-flowers blooming all around, with gay and briUiant 
 butterffies hovering over them, as if no paralyzing breath 
 of winter might here be feared to cut short their holiday 
 existence. 
 
 We reached Amalfi in time to visit the Grotto of the 
 Capuchins, and other places of interest, returning to the small 
 locanda, called " La Luna," to dinner. It was a beautiful 
 moonhght evening, and we closed the day with a delicious 
 stroll on the sea-shore, beneath the silvery light of the moon. 
 The next morning proved that even here sudden changes in 
 the weather may be felt ; and we had to cross the mountains 
 in a mist so thick we could scarcely see each other's mides, 
 until we began to descend on the other side. Now and then 
 
 K 
 
146 AKT AND NATUKE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 we came upon little hamlets beautifully situated ; and many 
 of them with pretty fountains, around which, as the day 
 cleared, were grouped both men and women, chatting and 
 laughing as they filled their classic-shaped water-vessels. 
 Many of the young girls struck me as particularly graceful, 
 their dark hair rolled up like that of some antique statue, or 
 wound in rich plaits around the head. And then again, their 
 strange costume : the scarlet petticoat scarcely reaching to the 
 knee, and a snowy Avhite or bright blue loose jacket. Alto- 
 gether the women, in this mountain district, realized more 
 my preconceived idea of Italian grace and beauty than any 
 peasantry I have yet seen in Italy. The descent, as we pro- 
 ceeded, became tremendously steep, so much so as to make 
 it a matter of some difficulty to keep one's seat, and to occasion 
 many a nervous shudder as the sharp turns caused us quite 
 to overhang the precipitous sides. We performed it in safety, 
 however, and without one false step of the surefooted animals 
 we rode, — reaching Nocera in time for the evening train to 
 Naples. 
 
SECOND ASCENT OF VESUVIUS. 
 
 -^1^, liad 
 
 Esuvius has continued to us an object of 
 undiminished interest throughout oar whole 
 residence in Naj)les ; and although we had 
 already accomplished one expedition to its 
 summit, yet as its energies were then in an 
 almost quiescent state, we felt by no means satis- 
 fied, and often listened with wondering, and some- 
 what envious interest to the accounts of those who 
 
 \j\ iiaii been on the spot and seen its slumbering terrors 
 
 ^. fully awakened. Most ardently did we long to witness 
 
 at least something that might help to realize our idea of an 
 
 eruption, — and fortunate indeed were we in being at length 
 
 gratified. 
 
 For some weeks past, various reports and prognostications 
 had been afloat of a coming eruption. The mountain had 
 been giving some of its usual symptoms of inquietude, such 
 as an increased density of smoke from the crater, and occa- 
 sionally an increased violence in its ejections, making the dark 
 vapour to shoot up in the form of a pillar, until the colder 
 atmosphere, pressing it from above, caused it to spread out in 
 
148 AKT AND NATURE 
 
 the well-known form of a pine tree. Then also, rumbling 
 noises had been heard internally, and some of the wells in the 
 neighbourhood of Resina were said to have dried up, as is 
 generally the case immediately before the breaking out of the 
 volcano. It may well be supposed then that we were eagerly 
 on the watch for further movements, and fully on the alert, 
 when told, that on Saturday, 31st January, a stream of lava 
 had burst forth on the side next Naples, making its way over 
 the edge and down the pinnacle of the mountain. No time 
 was to be lost in communicating with our friends, and 
 arranging a party for the following Monday. Our plan was 
 to start in time to reach the summit with daylight, and 
 remain till the darkness of night should come on to lend 
 additional grandeur to the scene. The morning of Monday 
 did not promise what is usually considered a propitious day 
 for visiting Vesuvius, — that is, the horizon was enveloped in a 
 misty veil, greatly interrupting the view, while the top of the 
 mountain itself was invisible from a thick fog which hung 
 upon it. Our impatience, however, brooked not delay from 
 such a cause, especially as we went not at all for the sake of 
 the distant prospect, which we had previously enjoyed, but to 
 pay our devoirs solely to the volcano itself. As the event 
 proved, we had no reason to regret the lowering sky and 
 gloomy weather. 
 
 Our party consisted of six in all, and, for the sake of a 
 better view of the country, the fresh air, and the enjoyment 
 
 of the thing, we all preferred the outside of Sir J 's 
 
 capacious can-iage and four ; arriving at Resina after a plea- 
 sant drive about half-past twelve. From thence we started 
 in half an hour, following the same arrangement as on our 
 previous expedition, and taking the bridle-path to the Her- 
 mitage through the vineyards, as being shorter and more 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. UU 
 
 picturesque than the winding carriage-road. When we had 
 proceeded some way, the guides drew our attention to the 
 smoke rising from the descending lava, which had already 
 come down so far as to be visible below the skirts of the 
 vapoury mantle of cloud which continued to envelop the 
 upper part of the mountain. In looking towards this, we 
 observed a movement among the loose fragments of scoriae 
 upon the sides of the steep above us, and a vapour-like smoke, 
 quite distinguishable from the mist around ; but at that dis- 
 tance all was indistinct, and little prepared us for what it was 
 to be on nearer inspection. 
 
 Leaving our animals, as before, upon the level platform 
 above the Hermitage, to which has been given the name of 
 " Sala di Cavalli," we started amid the good-humoured cheers 
 of the guides, on our toilsome way. About a fifth of our 
 ascent from this point had been accomplished, when, on 
 pausing and looking upwards, we could very plainly both hear 
 and see the slow downward progress of a body of lava, hissing 
 and rattling among the loose cinders, as it overwhelmed or 
 dislodged them, and occasionally sending huge pieces bound- 
 ing down the steep declivity in a way that endangered not a 
 little those below. Soon afterwards we came opposite the 
 lower end of this smoking stream, and approached cautiously 
 to obtain a nearer view of it. Even here it was of a glowing 
 red heat upon the surface, though often so covered over with 
 floating cinders and enveloped in smoke, that the actual deep 
 red of the fire was obscured. On looking to the summit, we 
 coidd see against the sky — as one does on looking from below 
 up to the shoot of a cataract above — the stupendous torrent 
 slowly lipping over the edge of the large crater, like a huge, 
 hissing, fiery snake deliberately crawling forth from its lair 
 down upon its victims beneath. The motion is peculiarly 
 
l;")l» ART AND NATURE 
 
 steady and slow, even where the angle of its descent is most 
 abnipt, and accompanied, from the movement of the loose 
 cinders which impede or attend its progress, with a kind of 
 trinkling sound, somewhat resembling that caused by frag- 
 ments of ice hursthng each other in a half-frozen river. On 
 reaching the summit, we found a considerable change in the 
 appearance of the large crater since our former visit. Instead 
 of the comparatively level platform of hard lava, lying ten or 
 twelve feet lower than the edge on which we stood, and ex- 
 tending to the cone of the active crater in the centre, we 
 found the whole surface greatly elevated, broken up, and 
 heaved into iiTegular piles, evidently from the recent throes 
 of the volcano beneath. Across this space, slowly winding 
 among its chasms and irregularities, on came the moving lava 
 towards the outer verge, where, after making a circuit almost 
 beneath our feet, it swept round the mound on which we 
 were stationed, and poured over the edge, sending up a heat 
 and a sulphuric atmosphere almost intolerable within a few 
 yards. After a little breathing space here, we went round 
 the verge to a spot at some distance from the running lava, 
 where the surface was not too hot to tread upon, and there 
 1)ivouacked comfortably, producing our basket-stores of pro- 
 visions, wherewith to beguile the remaining hours until sun- 
 set. After this event takes place, an Italian twilight does 
 not long try the patience of those who long for darkness, as 
 on this occasion we did. And now it was we found the fog; 
 amid which we had ascended an advantage to the scene. 
 As evening drew on, the darkness was rendered by it doubly 
 obscure, and the reflection of the lava upon the misty atmo- 
 sphere, dispersing a fiery tinge above and all around, was 
 beautiful and grand beyond description. Hitherto, during 
 the time we waited, the volcano itself had been peculiarly 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 151 
 
 quiet and inactive, — only one slight explosion occuning-— so 
 much so that we feared a disappointment, and a party who 
 had arrived before us actually took themselves off in despair. 
 A hint from our good friend Salvatore made us act more 
 wisely, and we were indeed abundantly rewarded by seeing it 
 speedily throw off this temporary lethargy, and burst into the 
 most magnificent explosions. 
 
 At six o'clock we were startled from our resting-place by a 
 tremendous outburst, which seemed the beginning of a con- 
 tinued series for the whole evening. We sprang to our feet, 
 and stumbling with gi-eat difficulty over the jagged masses of 
 lava, scarcely half-cooled, and through an atmosphere at times 
 pungent and stifling to an intolerable degree, we traced the 
 fiery stream to its fearful source. Taking up our position 
 immediately below the crater, we stood in breathless admira- 
 tion, watching its convulsive throes succeeding each other at 
 intervals of one or two minutes. At times it seemed to pause 
 a little, as though for breathing space, then to increase in 
 fury, sending up its roaring volleys of blood-red stones and 
 dazzling meteors five or six hundred feet into the deep black 
 night of the sky, rendered yet more black and dark by the 
 smoke of the volcano, which at this hour usually collects in 
 murky clouds about the mountain top. These brilliant 
 messengers, after describing a graceful paraboKc curve, fall 
 around the sides of the cone in a shower of splendour, — 
 mingling much of the beautiful with the terrible. The scene, 
 and our position were extraordinaiy indeed ; and the feelings 
 of awe, fascination, and subdued excitement, such as are 
 likely to be but seldom called forth in the same degree during 
 a lifetime. Again and again the idea arose, " Can we ever 
 forget the sensations of this moment !" And yet there was 
 little mingling of fear or nervous apprehension, though sur- 
 
152 
 
 ART AND NATURE 
 
 rounded by objects that might well have caused such. We 
 were conscious rather of an elevation of spirit corresponding 
 in some degree with the subhmity of the scene, and the vast- 
 ness of the power whose operation we witnessed, — a more than 
 ordinar}^ realization of the presence of Him to whom earth 
 and air, fire and water, yea all the powers of heaven and earth 
 are but the ministers of His will ! Yet it were presumptuous 
 to say that there is no danger to spectators in such a position ; 
 — danger there must always be from the perfect uncertainty 
 at what moment, or in what place the volcano is next to 
 find a vent. We were made to feel this especially as we stood 
 on a little mound of lava near the mouth of the crater. 
 On one side of tliis mound, and not above eight or ten feet 
 from us, the eye looked directly into a cavern of fire, — not of 
 flame, but of clear, quivering, glowing fire, like the heart of a 
 fierce furnace seven times heated. This aperture might be 
 about six feet in diameter ; — its depth — that of the mysterious 
 world of terrors below ! It was not a little appalHng to 
 discover, by looking at the ragged edges of this opening, how 
 thin and slight is the crust interposed between the foot and 
 the abyss over which it treads. Indeed this had already been 
 e^ddent from the innumerable rents and chasms that seamed 
 the surface over which we had passed, and through which the 
 red fire was often visible at the depth of not more than two 
 inches ; and yet so firm and metal-like feels the resistance to 
 one's step, that without this awful proof, the fact could scarcely 
 be believed. From somewhere between this mound and the 
 foot of the volcanic cone, though invisible for a few yards 
 from what must have been its actual source, oozed forth, 
 slowly and quietly, with a motion and consistency not inaptly 
 likened to that of thick honey, the deep, red, glowing river of 
 lava, winding its deliberate but irresistible way over the black 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 153 
 
 rugged surface of the large old crater, which, as already ex- 
 plained, forms the whole table siunmit of the mountain, — 
 creeping over the precipitous edge,' — and then down, down — 
 far into the thick darkness of the world below. No descrip- 
 tion, no painting can give an idea of the intense and glowing 
 red of this molten lava, as it issues fresh from the bowels of 
 the earth. Liquid metal flowing from the furnace of an iron- 
 foundry, is the only thing that conveys an idea of it, yet falls 
 short of its vivid glare. A thin white vapour rose from the 
 surface, and the light reflected from it, and colouring its 
 ascending wreaths with a deep rich ruddy tint as it rose into 
 the darkness, marked its downward course, rendering it visible 
 from a great distance, and lending it a strange, wild, awful 
 character, powerfully affecting the imagination. One can 
 approach as near the running lava as the overpowering heat 
 will permit, without the slightest apparent danger. We 
 approached quite to the edge of it, and holding the ends of 
 the staves, with which we were provided, to the lava, they 
 flamed even before touching the liquid fire. One of our 
 party availed himself of it to light a cigar, another did his 
 best to roast an apple, but found the heat too great to com- 
 plete the operation. Of course, in our cautious movements 
 over the crackling surface, we were implicitly led and assisted 
 by our guides, who bore flaming pine torches to light our foot- 
 steps, — little needed, indeed, while the artillery of the moun- 
 tain was flashing in the sky, but very necessary in the deep 
 darkness of the intervals. Strangely picturesque indeed 
 were the figures of these men, seen in the flickering torch- 
 light, standing in various attitudes upon the little eminences 
 around, leaning on their long white staves, or grouped toge- 
 ther around some fiery chasm, the ruddy glare of the fire 
 thrown upwards on their swarthy visages and strange dresses. 
 
154 ART AND NATURE 
 
 At times, too, one of them would start the first notes of a 
 simple air, and then those around would catch it up, and 
 conclude each verse with a burst of one of those wild and 
 most musical choruses, which characterize the old native airs 
 of Italy. 
 
 After enjoying the marvellous scene for some hours after 
 daylight had departed, we bethought ourselves of return. 
 Our descent was slow and cautious down the side of the great 
 cone, very different from the mad flight we executed on our 
 former expedition by daylight. Having at length discovered 
 and aroused our horses and their keepers amid the darkness 
 below, we mounted, and after a slow and most hazardous 
 ride through the surrounding gloom, relieved only by the 
 flickering light of the now exhausted torches, our perilous 
 path conducted us at last in safety to the Hermitage, where 
 we fell into the longer but safer carriage-road to Kesina. 
 By this time it had begun to rain a little ; and deprived of the 
 artificial heat of the mountain, the air of these lower regions 
 felt chilly and comfortless, contrasting, however, all the more 
 agreeably — in retrospect at least, with the comfort that 
 awaited us in our pleasant rooms at Naples. 
 
 At length February arrived, when the prospect of cold 
 spring winds setting in rendered it prudent that we should 
 bid adieu to Naples, its beautiful scenery, its enchanting 
 climate, and the many friends whose society had added so 
 much to our enjoyment there. To the latter, I cannot make 
 even this passing allusion without allowing myself the grati- 
 fication of naming Dr. Strange, who, as a skilful and experi- 
 enced medical man, and kind and valued Christian friend, 
 will ever occupy a place in our grateful remembrance. 
 
 Our journey from Naples to Eome I shall always recall 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 155 
 
 witli pleasure, not only on account of the delicious weather 
 and lovely scenery, but also of the companions with whom 
 
 we travelled. I had long previously loved S R ; 
 
 but during the latter part of our stay in Naples, and on this 
 journey, I learnt to know her still more intimately, and as 
 a necessary consequence, to love her better. 
 
 I shall not retrace our steps to Rome over the same route 
 as that by wiiich we had come to Naples : suffice it to say, 
 we reached our journey's end on the first day of the Carnival, 
 at a most unfortunate hour certainly, for it was just after the 
 confusion and hubbub of the day had commenced. Almost 
 every street was blockaded, and in all directions carriages and 
 horsemen were hurrying to the Corso. However, we did at 
 length reach the " Piazza di Spagna," and then the Via Con- 
 
 dotti, where we alighted at the house of Mr. and Mrs. M , 
 
 whom we had known at Naples. They were exceedingly 
 kind to us in our dilemma, which was by no means a trifling 
 one. Owing to an unavoidable delay in leaving Naples, the 
 
 rooms which dear M and D had kindly taken for 
 
 us at the Hotel de Russie, were lost, it being quite impossible 
 at such a time, to keep any rooms long unoccupied, and we 
 could get no others. Indeed it seemed doubtful if we could 
 
 get a roof to cover us. At last the M s bethought them 
 
 of two bed-rooms belonging to a house in the Corso, the 
 balcony of which had been taken by them for the Carnival ; 
 and thither we went about ten o'clock. It seemed even then 
 as if we were to be turned adrift : no sound of reply reached 
 us in answer to our repeated knockings at the door, and we 
 heard only the creaking of sundry buckets which were paying 
 their nightly devoirs to a well in the court below, and slowly 
 drawn up by their several ropes to their several owners. 
 This has a strange appearance to one unaccustomed to this 
 
l")»i AllT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 appendage to eveiy house in Rome. At last one of the 
 drawers of water heard us, and moved with pity — it is to be 
 supposed, came down and offered to go in search of the 
 woman of the house, who accordingly by and by made her 
 appearance, and very civilly conducted us to our rooms. 
 Truly glad were we to obtain even such accommodation as 
 these proved to be, and speedily forgot our fatigues in sound 
 sleep. 
 
ROME. 
 
 "^y, HE sun shone brightly on the following day, 
 one of the most important of that festive 
 >^ season — the Carnival at Rome ! How often 
 |! have these words passed before my eyes, and 
 '■' how indefinite the ideas they called forth ! 
 I may well shrink from attempting a full descrij)- 
 tiou of it ; many pens fiir more eloquent than 
 mine have essayed the task, and, as far at least 
 as concerns myself, without much success ; for truly 
 /■"( nothing could be more entirely new and unexpected 
 than was the whole scene to me, — the strange fantastic 
 medley of every kind of dress, masque, character, and equi- 
 page, amid which we found ourselves on entering the Corso. 
 
 Having written early in the morning to inform M of 
 
 our arrival, she answered my note in person, giving us a most 
 affectionate welcome to Rome. In the afternoon she came 
 
 for us, and we went to D 's balconies, which were in the 
 
 very best possible position for seeing eveiy thing. He himself 
 shortly joined us, and ere long many of their acquaintances. 
 M ■ introduced me to her cousin. Prince F , a veiy 
 
158 ART AND NATURE 
 
 pleasing unaifected person, entering with great apparent en- 
 joyment into the spirit of the thing. Prince , the 
 
 representative of one of the old Italian families, and a great 
 
 friend of D 's, enlivened every one by his good-humoured 
 
 raillery and fun. After a while M accompanied the 
 
 Princesse Borghese in a giro round the Corso, while W 
 
 and I went with some friends to enter more comi)letely into 
 the scene, as of course one sees far more in a carriage, passing 
 on throughout the whole length of the street, than from a 
 balcony, however well situated. We set forth then, well 
 armed with bouquets of \dolets and roses, and sundry pretty 
 bonbons ; we ladies being protected by wire-masks, which we 
 soon found were absolutely necessary. The great amusement 
 of many is to throw handfuls of what are called comfits, 
 but in reality peas, perfectly hard and covered with lime. 
 Severely does one suffer in encountering a carnage full of 
 these merciless pelters, or in passing beneath a balcony, from 
 whence they can fire with double energy. We determined 
 not to return the rude sport in kind, but only to throw 
 bouquets and bonbons, and in consequence were very gal- 
 lantly treated. 
 
 Slowly following in the line of carriages, we had showers of 
 bouquets thrown to us, and several really pretty articles 
 among them. One most absurd mask, after giving me a 
 succession of flowers and bonbons, came and stood upon the 
 step of the carriage, maldng a speech, as in the olden time ; 
 declaring himself my " preux chevalier" for the day, and 
 presenting me with a beautiful sugared bonbon, with little 
 trinkets suspended from it. For this I, of course, returned 
 my best bow and my best bouquet ; the latter he fastened in 
 his hat as a trophy. Another threw me a prettily worked 
 Turkish bag, which erst had held cigars ; but of these unfemi- 
 
UNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. 159 
 
 nine liixuiies he had assiduously divested it, and suppHed their 
 place with bonbons. The groups of beautiful women, the 
 contadini in the pictiu-esque dress of the Campagna and the 
 surrounding districts, were a most interesting part of the 
 exhibition. They looked so joyous, their brilliant blacl?: eyes 
 dancing mth gladness ; their raven hair and clear olive com- 
 plexions contrasting well with the rich scarlet of their dresses, 
 and quite realizing my preconceived ideas of the splendid 
 beauty of the Italian women. I saw some faces amid that 
 crowd of the most magnificent cast of beauty ; and yet there 
 was many a fair girl from old England as lovely in a different 
 style. The most grotesque masks were everywhere to be 
 seen. Friars, Tm'ks, Spaniards, dominoes in thousands ; nay, 
 even the heads of animals, bears, donkeys, and baboons, 
 jffhen there were triumphal cars, carriages driven by elegant 
 damsels, with long ringlets and shepherdess hats, but whose 
 large brown hands and sunburnt features betrayed their dis- 
 guise. Or again we came upon a group closely pressing 
 round some improvvisatore, whose animated voice and gestures 
 never fail to arrest an admiring audience. Above were gaily 
 decorated windows and balconies, four and five tiers, crowded 
 with bright colours and fair forms, while on either side the 
 street below was lined with double rows of seats. The very 
 air at times seemed darkened with the showers of bouquets 
 that were flying in every direction, amid shouts of laughter, 
 hurrahs, and friendly greetings. Mingling in a kind of har- 
 monious discord with all this were the screaming of Italian 
 Ijagpipes, the tinkling of hurdygurdies, varied with the far 
 more musical sound of the never-ceasing " Ecco fiore ! " of the 
 bouquet-venders, telling you Avhere you might renew your 
 supply of floral missiles. In short, the extraordinary and 
 most bedlam-like appearance of the Corso during that memo- 
 
160 ART AND NATURE 
 
 rable day must be seen — nor only seen, it must be entered into 
 to be at all conceived. The excitement, too, is assuredly 
 infectious. I defy the gravest individual to go and witness 
 all that national good-humour, mirth, and gaiety, and not 
 enter into something of its spirit for the time. Although I 
 certainly thought, before I witnessed it, that such extrava- 
 gance could only be wearying and childish, no one enjoyed it 
 more than I did when there. At sunset a gun is fired from 
 the Capitol, and a troop of mounted dragoons ride slowly 
 down the centre of the Corso, to clear away the crowd of 
 carriages ; and then, whilst the whole street still looks crowded 
 with human beings, they dash back again at full speed, to 
 make way for the horse-race, which follows like a whirlwind 
 a minute or two after them. I had expected much from this 
 part of the spectacle, the race of the Barberi, or horses 
 without riders ; but a few moments before, I had been told 
 that the poor animals are sadly tortured by sharp spiked balls, 
 hung so as to dangle at their sides, and by this and sundry 
 other devices, are terrified, to exert themselves to the utmost, 
 so that I lost all pleasure in looking at them. On, on they 
 came, clearing their way through the dense crowd wliich 
 opened before them. The distant tramp was heard, a rush- 
 ing whiz as of cannon-balls that ploughed the surface of the 
 earth, raising a cloud of dust, — and they were past with 
 headlong speed, their receding way tracked by the distant 
 roar and commotion of the vast multitude. 
 
 We heard with horror, that the temerity with which many 
 lean forward to the very last moment to see the frantic 
 animals approaching — leaving themselves only the instant in 
 Avhich they pass to mthdraw, had cost at least two persons 
 their lives ! There is something grating to the feelings in 
 the whole of this part of the spectacle. In former days the 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 161 
 
 race had to be run by Jews, and though now horses have 
 been substituted, they are still compelled to take home to 
 themselves the barbarous indignity implied, though no longer 
 inflicted, by providing costly prizes for the owners of the 
 winner. 
 
 Even in the midst of the confusion of the Carnival, -we had 
 been fortunate enough to meet with very nice lodgings in one 
 of the streets leading from the Piazza di Spagna, Capo le 
 Case, and were able to remove to them the same night, to our 
 infinite satisfaction. 
 
 I must not pass over in silence the closing scene of the 
 Carnival, the " Moccoletti," in which each person endea- 
 vours to keep burning his own lighted torch of wax, and 
 to extinguish liis neighbour's. This effected, he exclaims 
 in triumph to the luckless individual, " Senza moccolo ! " 
 The coup d'oeil was briUiant to a degree. At every mndow, 
 even on the roofs of houses, were flaring torches, and the 
 whole street below — each way you looked, bespangled with 
 myriads of dancing, waving hghts, many of them encased in 
 various coloured paper lanterns. Nothing can be conceived 
 to surpass the confusion, the din, the bewildeiTuent that 
 reigned around ! Cries of " Senza moccolo," roars of laughter 
 at the expense of the discomfited, or of triumph over some 
 long-successful opponent ! Our balconies were crowded, and 
 being conspicuous from the number of lights, we were merci- 
 lessly attacked. D and several others made capture, 
 
 however, of a huge broom, with which those in the story 
 above were continually sweeping out our lights, without our 
 
 being able to return the favour, till D performed this 
 
 feat, which was a great triumph. M and I, tired at 
 
 last with the noise and heat, not to speak of the smell of 
 (ixtiugiiislied tort;hcs, and frequent showers of melted wax, 
 
 L 
 
1G2 ART AND NATURE 
 
 left rather earlier, walldng to a side street at the back of the 
 house. Here not a human being was to be seen except the 
 servants with the carriage ; a sudden contrast indeed to the 
 scene we had just quitted. We heard the distant hum of 
 the midtitude long after we had left the Corso. 
 
 The distractions of the Carnival being over, the crowds of 
 holiday visitors dispersed, and the citizens sobered down into 
 the quiet observance of Lent, we commenced the pleasant 
 task of visiting the various objects of interest in Rome. 
 
 We w^ere advised first to go to the Tower of the Capitol, 
 the panoramic view from which enables one to class the 
 antiquities into districts, and to form an idea of their relative 
 situations. 
 
 It was an admirable day for the purpose, and with pleasm- 
 able excitement we began the ascent of the steep steps which 
 lead to the top of the Tower. Here we ]3assed close beside 
 the large bell of the Capitol, — that bell in itself carrying 
 the mind back to stirring times and mighty deeds. To me it 
 spoke at once of the days of Rienzi, whose noble character, 
 as the friend of the people, is thus beautifully draw^n : — 
 
 " Eienzi ! last of Eomans ! while the tree 
 Of Freedom's withered trunk puts forth a leaf, 
 Even for thy tomb a garland let it be, — 
 The forum's champion, and the people's chief, — 
 Her new-bom Numa thou, — with reign, alas, too brief!" 
 
 On many occasions during his career this deep-toned bell 
 rung loud and long — its solemn tones, heard by every ear, 
 causing many a heart to vibrate with a response of triumph 
 or of terror. 
 
 When we reached the platform of the Tower, it was some 
 moments ere we could fix upon any individual object, the 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 1(>3 
 
 whole view was so spirit-stirring, teeming as it did with re- 
 collections of the world's history. By degrees we began to 
 distinguish many with names — how familiar ! On one side 
 we looked out upon the wide Campagna : there were the 
 sweeping arches of the mighty aqueducts extending far along 
 the plains, and the melancholy tombs, grey with age, some 
 minghng their own dust with the illustrious dead beneath, 
 whose virtues they were designed to immortalize. Nearer, 
 and not less full of thrilhng interest, were the half-hidden 
 portals of the Catacombs, the burial-place of the early Chris- 
 tians. Far beyond rose the encirchng hills, clear and distinct 
 against that sky so intensely blue, with here and there higher 
 and more distant peaks of the snow-capped Apennines tower- 
 ing above them. The little towns, often bearing names that 
 with their veiy sound bring bade the memory of ages, lay 
 scattered along the verge of the plain, or revealed from amidst 
 the shadows of the mountains, by some passing gleam of 
 sunlight resting on them. 
 
 Slowly the eye takes in all these more distant objects, and 
 then nearer are seen those noble arches, some still of almost 
 dazzling whiteness beneatli the rays of the brilliant sun, the 
 yet enduring memorials of victory, — the Arch of Constantine, 
 of Severus, of Titus. There is a memory, too, that wakens 
 at the sight of that Arch of Titus. On what ruins does it 
 rise .^ Whose voice, whose words, does it so eloquently pro- 
 claim ? "0 JeiTisalem, Jerusalem ! thou that wast mighty 
 among nations, how art. thou fallen ! Behold thy house is 
 left unto thee desolate." Eveiy stone in that fabric tells of 
 the fulfilment of that aw^ul prophecy of thy crucified and re- 
 jected King. " Not one stone in thy temple shall be left 
 upon another." 
 
 Nearer still to where we stood were the cruml)ling times of 
 
164 AKT AND NATURE 
 
 Jupiter Capitolinus — the lonely columns of the Temple of 
 Saturn — the one single pillar, standing alone amid broken 
 fragments of its fellows in the centre of the Forum. The 
 Roman Forum ! Yes ; that open space below, where chil- 
 dren are playing amid the tangled grass, is " The Forum ! " 
 " There a thousand years of silenced factions sleep — ^there 
 the immortal accents glow, and still the eloquent air breathes 
 of Cicero!" 
 
 To the left is all that remains of the vanished pomp of 
 " the Golden House of Nero," — the Palace of the C^sars, 
 where now the untrained vine and tall reeds grow in wild 
 luxuriance. 
 
 From this Tower the " seven hills" can be distinctly 
 marked. The Capitoline on which it stands — the Palatine, 
 covered with vineyards and the ruins of the Palace of the 
 Cfesars — ^the Aventine, its base washed by the " Yellow 
 Tiber." Over the Coliseum, the eye rests on the magnificent 
 BasiUca of St. John Lateran, marking the boundary of the 
 Ccelian. The Esquiline is indicated by the Baths of Titus 
 and the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. The Quirinal is 
 made conspicuous by a vast Palace of the Pope, on its highest 
 point, Monte Cavallo. The Viminal is very difficult to dis- 
 tinguish, from the flatness of its summit : it lies between the 
 Quirinal and Esquiline, 
 
 Moving to another quarter of the platform, the mighty 
 Coliseum comes in view : " A min — yet what a ruin ! " 
 Walls, palaces, streets, have been reared from the material of 
 its gigantic ruins, and yet one marvels whether, indeed, " it 
 hath been plundered, or but cleared," And then, ere turning 
 from ancient to more modern Rome, is pointed out the 
 Tarpeian Rock, immediately beneath the Capitol. It is diffi- 
 cult to imagine the death of traitors precipitated over it, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 165 
 
 Avlien one looks at an elevation of but a few feet overhanging 
 a garden ; but doubtless the height may have been greatly- 
 lessened by the piling up of rubbish from the ruins around. 
 
 How subHme, even at this distance, rises the vast and 
 wondrous Dome of St. Peter's, far into the sky, as though 
 asserting its pre-eminence *bver all beside. 
 
 Not far off stands an unpretending Church, yet with much 
 of interest in my eyes, for it was upon its walls Rienzi exhi- 
 bited the allegorical picture of Kome, which first roused the 
 people. Here, too, he assembled them by the sound of the 
 "solitary trumpet," on the 20th May 1347, and hence in vast 
 streams they poured on to the Capitol, while chanting the 
 Hymn of Liberty ! 
 
 Let the mountains exult around ! 
 
 On her seven-hilled throne — renowned — 
 
 Once more old Rome is crowned ! 
 
 Jubilate ! 
 
 Sing out, vale and wave — 
 IjQok up from each laurelled grave 
 Bright dust of the deathless brave. 
 
 Jubilate ! 
 
 Pale Vision, what art Thou ? — Ijo, 
 From Time's dark deeps 
 Tjike a wind It sweeps — 
 
 Tiike a wind when the tempests blow. 
 
 A shadowy form — as a giant ghost — 
 
 It stands in the midst of the armed host — 
 
 The dead man's shroud on Its awful limbs — 
 
 And the gloom of Its presence the daylight dims — 
 
 And the trembling world looks on aghast : — 
 
 All hail to the Soul of the mighty Past ! 
 
 Hail! All hail! 
 
1()G ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 As we speak — as we hollo ! — It moves, It breathes, — 
 From its clouded crest bud the laurel wreaths : 
 As a s\m that leaps up from the arms of night, 
 The Shadow takes shape, and the gloom takes light. 
 
 Hail! All hail! 
 
 The Soul of the Past, again ^ 
 
 To its ancient home 
 
 In the hearts of Eome 
 Hath come to resume Its reign ! 
 
 Fame, with a prophet's voice, 
 
 Bid the ends of the earth rejoice ! 
 
 "Wherever the proud are strong. 
 
 And right is oppressed by wrong — 
 
 "Wlierever the day dim shines 
 
 Through the cell where the captive pines — 
 
 Go forth, with a trumpet's sound, 
 
 And tell to the nations round — 
 
 On the hills which the heroes trod — 
 
 In the shrines of the saints of God — 
 
 In the Caesars' halls, and the martyrs' prison — 
 
 That the slumber is broke, and the Sleeper arisen ! 
 
 Tliat the reign of the Goth and the Vandal is o'er ! 
 
 And earth feels the tread of the Roman 
 
 Once more ! 
 
THE VATICAN STATUARY BY TORCHLIGHT. 
 
 ^ f NE evening, at the Palazzo Albano, the con- 
 versation turned on the peculiar beauty which 
 torchlight gives to statuary, and the proba- 
 , ^ bility that in former days, the Romans em- 
 ^ ployed this mode of heightening the effect of 
 those works of art of which they were so proud. 
 With his usual kindly wish to procure any en- 
 joyment for his friends within his reach, D 
 
 ^[)^/^ immediately caught at the idea of forming a party 
 'rr'")' some evening to accompany him to the Vatican, to 
 admire its treasures by torchlight. It was with great pleasure 
 I heard him speak of tliis, as it was a gratification I had no 
 chance of enjoying except through him. No time was lost 
 in making the needful preparations, and in securing the 
 friendly services of Mr. Macdonald, one of the first sculptors 
 then in Rome, to direct the placing of the torches to the best 
 advantage, as well as to enhance our enjoyment by such 
 
 explanations as an artist alone can give. M 's cousin. 
 
 Prince F , Lord and Lady M , Lord C , Lady 
 
 Gr , Madame S , a very lovely Russian, and Lord de 
 
168 ART AND NATUllE 
 
 T , were of the party ; and with the usual amount of 
 
 attendants which in Italy are required for everything, together 
 with the torchbearers, we numbered a pretty large assemblage. 
 
 I have entered on an arduous task in trying to record any 
 particulars of that wondrous place ; and yet I would not that 
 the power of mentally retracing those hours should be lost to 
 me. Leaving, of course, the Stanze of Kaphael, and the 
 galleries containing the famous pictures, we at once passed on 
 to what is called the Galleria Lapidaria, which forms the first 
 division of the corridor of Bramante. We could now only 
 rapidly walk through this collection of ancient sepulchral 
 inscriptions and monuments, though on other occasions I had 
 lingered with pleasiu-e among these records of the early 
 Christians, many of them touching in their simplicity, and in 
 the constant reference to a hope beyond the grave. Neither 
 could we give much time to the Museo " Chiara-Monti," 
 which forms the second division of the gallery ; so that I 
 merely note down here and there a bust or statue that par- 
 ticularly attracted me. 
 
 The first was a sitting statue of Tiberius, in the toga, with 
 a crown of oak leaves, found at Veii. Close beside it is one 
 of the most beautiful busts known, in Parian marble, brought 
 from Ostia ; it is of the young Augustus, and represents him 
 about sixteen years of age. Another bust of this Emperor, 
 taken at the age of twelve, was found at Albano, and bought 
 by an English nobleman. The celebrated statue of him at 
 Florence was executed when he was forty ; so that there are 
 three undoubted likenesses of the great Emperor. All re- 
 semble each other strongly in feature and character; the 
 latter being the matured expression of the two former. Then 
 follow " Demosthenes," a celebrated statue found at Erascati ; 
 Antonia, wife of Dnisus, and mother of Germanicus, Claudius. 
 
UNDEIl AN ITAIJAN JriKY. WJ 
 
 and Li'sda. The drapery of this figure is wrought out in 
 wonderful perfection ; yet it is suqiassed, as it seemed to 
 me, hy the finest draped statue I have seen — the " Minerva 
 Medica," found on the Esquiline, This is one of those sculp- 
 tures of which neither copy nor description can convey an 
 adequate idea. I was struck with the transparency of the 
 marble, as the flambeaux were so held as to cast the light 
 behind it. The famous torso of ApoUonius must not be left 
 unnamed, though I cannot but remark, however heterodox 
 the opinion, that it requires a more matured judgment than 
 mine worthily to appreciate this fragment. So brief are the 
 notices which alone I can bestow on the numberless objects 
 of interest on which the eye fell, as we slowly traversed the 
 immense galleries, that I must wholly pass by many that I 
 should like to name, and stop at the Cortile di Belvedere. 
 And, in truth, the half-hour I spent there only made me 
 long to return. This court is surrounded by an open portico, 
 with four small cabinets, which contain the choicest speci- 
 mens of sculpture. In the first, is the Perseus and The 
 Boxers, by Canova. I cannot help thinking it must have 
 been contrary to the wish of Canova that they were placed 
 here, challenging comparison with the master-pieces of art. 
 Doubtless they are life-lilvc and energetic, but they are 
 Boxers, — and incapable of producing any pleasing impres- 
 sion on the mind. I therefore turned to the second cabinet, 
 which contains the Antinous. Beautiful it is, indeed ; and 
 as I looked on its graceful form I could well believe that even 
 a Domenichino might learn from it a truer estimate of beauty. 
 It seems to me that great skill has dictated the placing of 
 these statues. After looking upon the finished loveliness of 
 the Antinous, the group in the next cabinet strikes upon the 
 startled senses with a force which even its own power could 
 
170 ART AND NATUKE 
 
 scarce have produced, had the mind been more prepared for 
 it. As by one irresistible spell, we all stood motionless when 
 the Laocoon was revealed by the strong light thrown upon it. 
 No one spoke — it seemed as though the appalling spectacle 
 of human agony arrested every feeling save that of sympathy. 
 I felt as if one could not continue long to look upon the 
 helplessness of those arms, straining to resist the tightening 
 folds of the hideous serpent, — no nearer now to unlock the 
 fatal embrace than they were hundreds of years ago ! There 
 is something in the horrible idea which grows upon the mind, 
 and I turned away lest I should never lose the impression of 
 those forms of agony struggling on for ever and for ever. In 
 thinking of this group afterwards, more perhaps than at the 
 moment, I recalled an imperfection which doubtless has 
 struck others far better qualified to judge. I refer to the 
 proportions of the sons as compared with those of the father. 
 They are not hoys, but miniature men ; so that one must deem 
 the father a giant. Again, I must remark the skill evinced 
 in the arrangement of these statues. Could any thing be 
 more enchanting than the change from the positively painful 
 emotions, called forth by the group we had left, to the 
 pure, elevated beauty of the Apollo Belvedere ! There lie 
 stands alone : no other statue, no ornament of any kind to 
 dive*t the attention. I scarce know how I felt, as, somewhat 
 apart from the rest, I looked on that very perfection of ideal 
 beauty. Almost unconsciously a thought of childhood arose, 
 — How would an angel look and move, and in what form 
 would he appear, if once again such a bright messenger were 
 to descend on earth ? Here seemed something to realize the 
 thought — a form meet for an angel. And can a figure so 
 instinct with life be of cold, senseless marble ! So ethereal 
 is it in air and mien, so elastic in attitude, so apparently 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 171 
 
 quick and light seems the springing step, as if it would not 
 bend the dewy floweret on wliich it rests. It is the purity, 
 the spirituality of this figure which so exalts it in my estima- 
 tion. It is difficult to suppose the artist had any model. 
 Had he chosen to represent pure intellect, it would have been 
 comparatively easy ; there would have been the commanding 
 forehead, the lips compressed and firm, the eye deep and full 
 of thought, the whole character concentrated into one single 
 idea, — ^power. But the purely spiritual represented in mar- 
 ble, — what a very miracle of art ! And yet so perfect is this 
 exquisite form that the mcderial is forgotten. And there he 
 stands and has stood, to be gazed at by thousands, the subject 
 of every idle comment from the ignorant ; he who looks as if 
 he were just alighting on the world to fulfil some purpose 
 high enough to give this look of sublime energy to his coun- 
 tenance, and having shot his winged arrow, or done whatever 
 fable may have ascribed to him, you see him just about to 
 spring from earth and depart. 
 
 How wonderful is this high power God has given to man, 
 thus as it were to perpetuate, from age to age, these beautiful 
 creations of his art, the source of such varied and intense 
 emotions in his fellow-men ! To take but these two works 
 hist named, is it not a wondrous power that can yet, after 
 so many hundred years, appeal to the sympathy, nay, cause 
 the very nerves to shrink at the sight of human agony, 
 pourtrayed in senseless marble ; and again, that can awake 
 the most pleasing sense of beauty by means of that motion- 
 less, ever-enduring form of ethereal grace, which at this 
 day, as at the first, embodies to each beholder his ideal of 
 perfection ! 
 
 I have often thought — ^what were these men themselves, to 
 whom such noble gifts were entrusted ? Did their inner 
 
172 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 sense of moral and intellectual beauty correspond with the 
 genius that could create a semblance so faithful of their out- 
 ward form ? Sad is it to fear, in too many instances, that 
 even like ourselves who look with rapture on their works, the 
 gift was often deified and adored, while the Giver was dis- 
 honoured and forgotten ! Yet I have lately, and with pecu- 
 liar pleasure, met Avith the translations of several poems by 
 the old Italian painters and sculptors, as well as poets, which 
 seem to shew, that in some instances at least, those gifted 
 men had been led to taste of purer streams, and higher sources 
 of enjoyment than genius could open, or the sense of beauty 
 yield them. 
 
 I shall transcribe one whose author lived, it is true, at a 
 comparatively later date, but whose genius and fame has 
 rivalled even the highest name among them all, — Michael 
 Angelo Buonarotti. 
 
 " Now my frail bark through life's tempestuous flood 
 Is steered, and full in view tluit port is seen, 
 Where all must answer what their course has been. 
 And every work be tried, if bad or good. 
 Now do those lofty dreams, my fancy's brood, 
 Which made of Art an idol and a queen, 
 Melt into air, and now I feel — how keen ! — 
 That what I needed most I most withstood. 
 Ye fiibled joys, ye tales of empty love, 
 AVliat are ye now, if two-fold death be nigh ? 
 The first is certain, and the last I dread. 
 Ah ! what does Sculpture — what does Painting prove — 
 When we have seen the Cross, and fixed our eye 
 On Him whose arms of love were there outspread ! " 
 
ST. PETER'S. 
 
 ELL might Gibbon pronounce St. Peter's " the 
 most glorious temple that ever was raised for 
 the purpose of religious worship." At each 
 successive visit it has grown upon us in vast- 
 ness and beauty, until we have felt as though 
 the idea of it were becoming too vast for the 
 mind to master by rules and measurements ap- 
 plicable to other edifices. The only way to com- 
 prehend its real magnitude is to judge it by space and 
 J distance, as one does the size of a plain or of a moun- 
 tain. In ordinary buildings, the various details are usually 
 estimated by some familiar measurement. For example, one 
 has some idea of the height and width of the door of entrance, 
 and may take for granted that the breadth, length, and height 
 of its architectural parts will be in proportion ; and these 
 we comprehend accordingly with tolerable correctness. It is 
 true that here also these proportions are carried out with the 
 most beautifid and faultless exactness. But then, the first 
 step the mind has to take — the actual proportions of the 
 entrance itself, or of whatever object the eye of the measurer 
 
174 AKT AND NATURE 
 
 starts from — are so stupendous, so far beyond anything one 
 has previously seen in architecture, that the eye is constantly 
 deceived. In the well-known instance of the white marble 
 cherubs supporting the basins of " Holy Water" on each 
 side near the entrance, I never doubted, at the first glance, 
 that they were of the ordinary size of children, which they 
 represent ; yet on near inspection we found them at least 
 seven feet high, and with their chubby limbs, representing 
 infancy, more massive than three ordinary men ! And so 
 through all its wondrous details. There are figures of the 
 Evangelists in mosaic, round the lowest compartment of the 
 dome, which, from below, look veiy little larger than life, and 
 yet the exact length of the pen which St. Luke holds in his 
 hand, is five and a half feet. Again, there is the magnificent 
 Baldacchino or canopy, of bronze gilt, of rich and exquisite 
 workmanship, directly under the dome, over the high altar 
 and tomb of St. Peter. As you enter the building at the 
 further end, this structure appears the size of an ordinary 
 pulpit ; it would never occur to any one as being more, and 
 yet the cross which surmounts this Baldacchino is ninety-two 
 feet above the level of the pavement on which you stand — as 
 high as many of our common church spires ! This deception 
 of the eye readily accounts for the fact that the edifice itself 
 does not, on many minds, till after repeated visits at least, 
 produce that overwhelming feeling of greatness which one 
 might expect. There is one peculiarity, however, which at 
 once strikes the stranger in St. Peter's, and which assists 
 greatly, I think, in reahzing the vastness of the space — and 
 that is the purity and freeness of the atmosphere. Unhke 
 ordinary churches or halls of the largest dimensions, there is 
 no unpleasant feeling of dampness or of confined air, nor any 
 peculiar smell of the materials of which it is composed. All 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 175 
 
 is too distant and open for this. The interior of St. Peter's 
 has a chmate, so to speak, of its own : it is never chilly, and 
 never close or heated. From the very immensity of its space 
 there is a soothing stillness — a calm in its atmosphere, which 
 no sudden draughts or currents can disturh. No matter 
 what may be the temperature without, winter or summer, 
 within this world of beauty, and beneath that firmament of 
 glowing colours and golden splendour, the seasons seem to 
 know no change, the subdued and softened atmosphere has 
 ever the same grateful soothing to the senses. 
 
 We found on experience, almost more than we had antici- 
 pated, that an ascent to the summit of St. Peter's is the only 
 way by which any adequate idea can be formed of its true 
 magnitude. This ascent presents, indeed, one of the most 
 extraordinary spectacles. 
 
 In the first place, you do not, as in ordinary buildings, 
 mount flights of common steps, apparently interminable, not 
 so much from actual number as from their laborious steep- 
 ness, and a dark and stifling staircase ; but you walk easily 
 and agreeably upwards by a broad paved road, constructed a 
 cordo7ii, well lighted, more than wide enough for the passage 
 of a laden waggon, and of so gentle an ascent that horses 
 constantly go up and down with their burdens. Arrived upon 
 the principal roof, the scene presents somewhat the appear- 
 ance of a little village of workmen, who, with their dwelling- 
 houses, implements, heaps of materials, a fountain of water 
 constantly flowing, and other symptoms of complete domesti- 
 cation, and permanent residence in this higher sphere, seem 
 to have nothing to do with the world below. As we tra- 
 versed the immense fields of lead, we recalled, and quite 
 understood what the American author Cooper says, in his 
 account of the ascent, that he was " seized wdth the idea of 
 
176 ART AND NATURE 
 
 having a horse to gallop about upon it ! " From this plain 
 the three domes arise. The two side ones, which are not 
 seen from immediately below, rise above it to the height of 
 one hundred and thirty-six feet. Each of these would itself 
 be a very fine dome proportioned to a large church ; but they 
 are insignificant beside that which rises in the centre like a 
 little mountain from the plain. Its architecture, ornament, 
 and proportions, wliich seem to me absolutely perfect, can 
 only be judged of here ; as, indeed, the size of the dome can 
 only be : for besides that it is double, and that the interior 
 only of the inner one (which the outer encases) is that 
 which is seen from the pavement beloAv inside the Church, 
 the extent to which the roof stretches on every side, prevents 
 the base of the outer dome from being seen at all, except 
 from a considerable distance. 
 
 The broad road of ascent continues no farther than this. 
 We had therefore to traverse the leaden plain to reach the 
 architectural mountain we had still to climb. A long series 
 of short flights of steps, and narrow passages of inclined 
 plane, leads to the summit of the dome. About half way up, 
 the cicerone ushered us by a doorway upon a railed gallery, 
 which opens upon, and runs round the interior. It is a 
 moment and a position this, I tliink, to try the strongest 
 nerves, and affect the dullest imagination. Not that there is 
 the slightest danger, for the gallery is broad, and a high sub- 
 stantial railing prevents the possibdity of a fall ; but the stu- 
 pendous spectacle itself, bursting suddenly and unexpectedly 
 upon one, must inevitably produce a powerful impression of 
 some kind. With me it was one of deep awe and solemnity, 
 a feeling of overwhelming magnitude, as though everything 
 around, on which the eye rested for a moment, were preter- 
 naturally expanding, — growing lai'ger and larger even while 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 177 
 
 one gazed, until the sensation became almost one of pain and 
 bewilderment ! We looked across a vast dim gulf, round 
 which the massive balustrade ran on the opposite side like a 
 slender cord. The mosaic figures, forms, and faces, which 
 from below look like delicate and softly-shaded pictures, are 
 here found to be composed of large cubes of marble, coarsely 
 fitted together and roughly coloured, while with huge limbs 
 and gigantic features, the forms depicted seem to glare upon 
 you strangely, like the very genii of space and greatness ! For 
 one moment I leant over, and looked down ; but oh, what 
 words can describe the shuddering, yet fascinated wonder of 
 that look and scene ! Yet I looked more steadily then than 
 I can even think of now. It was at the first glance an abyss 
 of dim space and indistinctness, but a steadier gaze shewed it 
 to be one of beauty and of grandeur. 
 
 I believe the deception as to height, at least, must here be 
 reversed ; for to judge by the appearance of objects below, it 
 seemed more like looking down from a mountain of a thou- 
 sand feet than a gallery of four hundred. There were some 
 hundreds of people on the pavement below, yet the eye had 
 to search for and fix itself upon the diminutive specks ere 
 they could be distinctly recognised as such ; and though these 
 seemed moving across a field of marble, one yet sees from 
 this position but a portion of the whole area. From this 
 point, the next stage of ascent is to another inside gallery of 
 smaller circumference, at the very top of the dome, and at 
 the foot of the conical-shaped neck that surmounts it, called 
 the Lantern. From this gallery we could but cast one hasty 
 glimpse below. The dizzy, reeling vacancy into which the 
 eye plunges, is almost maddening, and, I could imagine, might 
 soon suggest the horrible idea of leaping over ! The Lantern 
 is a little octagonal-shaped room, about fourteen feet wide at 
 
 M 
 
178 ART AND NATURE 
 
 the bottom, and tapering to the top. On one side is a little 
 wooden staircase, up which we scrambled, and then on by an 
 iron ladder inside the narrow stalk or rod of the ball, into 
 which I stepped and stood upright, with several feet of space 
 above me. It would easily hold a dozen people, but owing to 
 the power of the sun, and the stifling smell of heated metal, 
 there was not enough of wholesome air even for one. I was 
 glad speedily to find my way down again. We stood long en- 
 joying the view from the gallery which encircles the outside of 
 the Lantern ; — a view that may be surpassed, indeed, by some 
 in the mere beautiful and picturesque, but which, in stirring 
 interest, in memories and associations of the past, in strange 
 and striking objects of the present, in solemn thoughts and 
 undefined shadows of the future, may well challenge the 
 world to shew its equal. In every part of the horizon, save to 
 the south, where the eye catches for a moment — distant but 
 refreshing, — the blue sparkle of the Mediterranean, a varied 
 and picturesque chain of mountains bounds a view, every 
 portion of which is a landmark of the world's history, the 
 scene of classic fable, or the haunt of immortal genius. 
 Nearer, but for miles and miles on every side, stretches the 
 softly undulating, but melancholy Campagna, where it ever 
 seems to me as though Nature herself would eloquently 
 tell, in the calm mournfulness of the face she wears, to every 
 wanderer as he comes to look upon her, the sad moral of the 
 fallen mighty one ! And then, stretched literally beneath one's 
 feet, lies spread the city itself — not Kome truly, but Kome's 
 remnants and memorials — a book wherein is read in plainer 
 and more impressive characters than any printed page could 
 shew it, the vanity of earth, and all that rests upon it ! 
 They say that to moralize on Kome is trite and common- 
 place ; but as well might one attempt to read some tale of 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 179 
 
 true and tragic interest, and close tlie book without one 
 thought or feeling about it, as to look on this theatre, so long 
 that of the world's concentrated destinies, and focus of its 
 power, its wisdom, and its energies, and not feel the heart 
 overflow, and the mind lose itself, in a thousand emotions 
 and memories. You think of all her once unchecked and 
 haughty pride, when her intercourse with other nations was 
 but despotic law-giving, and the language of univei-sjil boast ; 
 when she claimed a title which now even to recall is the 
 deepest satire upon her fate, " the Eternal City !" You look 
 at her now, and without any other testimony, would not the 
 air of expressive silence and decay which hangs over her 
 sombre roofs, her grey and time-worn palaces, her mouldering 
 ruins, tell you that ages have seen it all trampled in the 
 dust, and the spark of its vitality fled for ever ! You think 
 of her power — her impregnable, defying strength — and you 
 can plainly trace the full outline of her crambling walls and 
 fallen bulwarlcs standing yet — but only as it seems in mockery, 
 and in moral of man's boasted strength and real weakness ! 
 You think of that wealth, and pomp, and grandeur, which it 
 was the wonder of all nations to contemplate, the spoihng 
 and humiliation of all nations to minister to ; — and now the 
 only vestiges of existing wealth, the only traces of pomp and 
 splendour are the temples, domes, and palaces, that have 
 been raised on the ruins of this City of the Ctesars ! And 
 raised by whom ? by the votaries of that sect, which, in im- 
 perial Kome, was long too contemptible to be noticed ; raised, 
 too — however in ignorance as to the true worship of Him 
 who " dwelleth not in temples made with hands," — professedly 
 to the honour of that despised Nazarene, whose name she had 
 scarce then heard, nor deigned to ask after ; whose obscure 
 followers, when at length recognised, were noticed only as 
 
ISO MIT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 fitting victims of tlie cross, tlie fire, or the ferocity of wild 
 beasts, to furnish for the arena a spectacle to regale her 
 citizens on chosen holidays ! Yes, truly, " The Lord doeth 
 according to His own will in the armies of heaven, and 
 among the inhabitants of the earth ; and He hath chosen the 
 foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the 
 weak things of the world to confound the strong ; and things 
 that are despised hath God chosen, yea, and things that are 
 not, to bring to nought things that are." 
 
THE PROTESTANT BURYING-GROUND. 
 
 April 3. 
 
 '• ^^S* 5^p^yv^ ADY M called to take me to the Protestant 
 
 ' V^^ ■ Burying-Groimd. It is a lovely spot, a little 
 
 , , A^ beyond the walls, and close to one of the 
 
 ^>v/ j/J most imperishable monuments of antiquity, 
 
 the pyramid of Caius Cestus. It is a little 
 sheltered nook on a gentle declivity looking to- 
 wards Rome, between Mount Aventine and a 
 '^('^^■c-' ' small hill caUed Monte Testaccio. The sunbeams 
 yV^ fall warm and bright upon its slopes, and countless 
 L'^iTj flowers fill the air with perfume. An avenue of tall 
 China-rose trees, almost arching overhead, leads from the 
 gate to the upper end, and many of the marble monuments 
 are half hidden by the luxuriant growth of lovely and 
 fragrant shrubs. The stillness around has something sweet 
 and soothing in it, but nothing of desolation. It gave me a 
 feeling of melancholy pleasure to see this spot as it is. There 
 is such sadness in the thought of leaving the earthly remains 
 of one who has made life sweet to us, in a foreign land, far from 
 our own familiar homes, that truly one feels the want of 
 some associations that may at least soften the pang. Here, 
 
182 AET AND NATURE 
 
 I felt that such might be the case. There is a cared-for look 
 about each separate grave that told of remembering friends 
 even in the stranger's land. 
 
 I read many of the epitaphs : one or two, with their marble 
 monuments, are very simply beautiful. On one is a broken 
 lily, with the name inscribed beneath it of a young English 
 girl lately buried. I sought for the monument erected in 
 remembrance of " Rosa Bathurst," whose sad fate is inscribed 
 upon the marble slab. She was the pride and idol of her 
 family, a lovely, amiable girl, full of life and spirits. While 
 riding with a party of friends on the banks of the Tiber, 
 whose waters were at the time unusually large and swollen, 
 her horse suddenly became unmanageable, and backing, fell 
 with her into the river ! She sank instantly, and it was 
 some months before her body was found ! Near this grave 
 is another which I regarded with interest. It is that of a 
 
 brother of our friends the R s, who was also drowned in 
 
 the Tiber, by the upsetting of a boat. In the upper part of 
 the ground the ashes of our English poet Shelley are laid. 
 We sat down here, and read the lines he himself wrote on 
 the death of his friend and brother-poet, Keats : — 
 
 " The spirit of the spot shall lead 
 Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, 
 Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead 
 A light of laughing flowers along the graves is spread ; 
 And gray w^alls moulder round, on which dull Time 
 Feeds like slow fire upon a hoary brand. 
 And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, 
 Pavilioning the dust of him who plann'd 
 This refuge for his memory, doth stand 
 Like flame transformed to marble ; and beneath, 
 A field is spread — on which a newer band 
 Have pitched, in heaven's smile, their camp of death. 
 Welcoming him we lose, with scarce extinguished breath. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 183 
 
 Here pause. — Tliese graves are all too young as yet 
 To have outgrown the sorrow which consign 'd 
 Its charge to each." 
 
 The day shone in all the brightness and heat of one in June, 
 
 when, with Miss E and K M , we set off on a long 
 
 drive ; first going to the Theatre of Marcellus, built by Au- 
 gustus, and dedicated to his sister Octavia's son, — the young 
 Marcellus, Her name he gave to a magnificent portico, added 
 to the Theatre, as a place of shelter. It is still an enormous 
 pile, though greatly disfigured by the vicinity of the Orsini 
 palace, and the dirty shops which occupy the ground-story. 
 
 The Baths of Caracalla, just beyond the Palace of the 
 Cfesars, came next. These ruins are a perfect labjrrinth of 
 gigantic walls and arches, covering several acres of ground, — 
 perhaps the most stupendous monument of the wealth and 
 power of ancient Kome, except the Coliseum, to be seen, 
 though by no means proportionally interesting. 
 
 Our third stoppage was at the Tomb of the Scipios, This 
 is in a vineyard not far from the beginning of the Appian 
 Way. We got out at the Antique Gate, a kind of portico 
 with stone seats, and after reading the inscription — " Sepol- 
 cro' dei Scipioni," — entered the Tomb, Our guide, a fine 
 dark-eyed Italian girl in a most picturesque dress, lighted 
 tapers, and led the way into the interior. The inscriptions, 
 marking the different members of the family buried here, are 
 quite legible. It is pleasing to muse in that quiet spot on 
 the history of this noble race, on the many high-souled virtues 
 which adorned, and the many stirring scenes which rendered 
 famous the lives of some of them ; and then to recall the 
 funereal pomp and splendour which this very place has wit- 
 nessed when the drama of life was closed, and the body of the 
 great was gathered to his fathers. 
 
184 ART AND NATURE 
 
 We went next to a " Columbarium," not far from the Tomb 
 of the Scipios. It is so called from the rows of little niches, 
 like the holes of a pigeon-house, in which were placed the 
 urns which held the ashes of the dead. The one we saw is 
 supposed to be a very good specimen of these sepulchral 
 monuments, and the inscriptions above each of the niches 
 prove it to have belonged to the time of Augustus and 
 Tiberius. The interior is painted with Arabesques. 
 
 A drive of about ten minutes brought us to the Circus of 
 Eomulus, — the most perfect that has been discovered. It is a 
 vast oblong space, and bears the date of 311. The length is 
 said to be fifteen hundred and sixty feet, and the width two 
 hundred and fifty. The outer wall is very nearly entire. 
 Inside, the turf is remarkably smooth, and with the many 
 bright flowers which enamel it, forms a cai^pet of variegated 
 colours most pleasing to the eye. 
 
 From hence we had a good view of the Tomb of Cecilia 
 Metella. It is a tower of immense size and strength, formed 
 of huge blocks of travertine, fitted together with the greatest 
 precision, and without cement. The frieze and cornice are 
 both very rich, the former ornamented with bas-reliefs in 
 white marble. The inscription, Cecilia Metellse, is legible, but 
 nothing to give any insight into either the life or death of 
 this " lady of the dead." This mystery caught the imagina- 
 tion of the poet, who has thi-own yet greater interest on the 
 tomb, by those lines in Childe Harold : — 
 
 " What was this tower of strength ? Witliin its cave 
 Wliat treasure lay so locked, so hid ? A woman's gi-ave. 
 But who was she, the lady of the dead, 
 
 Tonih'd in a palace ? How lived — how loved — how died she ? 
 Whither would conjecture stray ? 
 Thus much alone we know, — Metella died 
 The wealthiest Roman's wife. Behold his love — or pride." 
 
UNDEK AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 185 
 
 Leaving this side of the Campagna, a pleasant cMve brought 
 us to the Fountain of Egeria, — one of the sweetest spots 
 imaginable. The surface of the ground undulates in the 
 most picturesque manner. Little hills and dales, tufted occa- 
 sionally with trees whose branches hang gracefully to the 
 ground, and all between smooth and verdant with the luxu- 
 riant grass. The sacred grove, with its dark mysterious shade 
 of ilex, formed a singular and most striking contrast to the 
 laughing radiance and sunmtier beauty of all else. The path 
 which leads to the Fountain itself winds down one of these 
 grassy hills, passing the base of the " Sacred Mount." The 
 ruins of the old Temple are almost hidden by the festoons 
 of ivy and other graceful creepers, which seem more lavish 
 of their loveliness in a spot like this, than in the cultivated 
 garden. The tall reeds bend before the breeze, and seem 
 to whisper to each other the story of the ideal nymph whose 
 poetic name has bequeathed such interest to the fairy scene. 
 The flowers looked all so fresh in that bright day of early 
 spring ; and gemmed with the dewy spray wliich fell upon 
 it from the gushing fountain, the small-leafed trembling 
 celandine quivered beneath the diamond drops ; and now its 
 emerald green became more bright than ever, as the flicker- 
 ing sunbeams ever and anon stole in to play a moment 
 in this cool refreshing grotto, while farther in, reclining in 
 deeper shadow, lay the broken figure still remaining, the 
 genius of the place ! Well might the poet say — 
 
 " Egeria ! whate'er thou art or wcrt, 
 Thou wert a beautiful thought, — a sweet creation." 
 
 The wild flowers surpass anything I ever saw. Each step 
 we took trod upon violets, with their deep blue eyes peeping 
 out from the rich herbage ; mignonette mingled its refined 
 
186 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 sweetness with their fragrance ; the Star of Bethlehem with 
 its snowy purity ; the orchis in endless variety ; anemones of 
 every hue, from the brightest scarlet and deepest crimson to 
 the most dehcate white. Lizards darting with the quickness 
 of thought — hither — ^thither — everywhere ; butterflies so gay 
 and bright, one might think them flowers on the wing. The 
 "tuneful cicada" concealed among the grass, or perched upon 
 the branch of some shady tree, with clear shrill pipe singing 
 us welcome as we wandered past. 
 
 From the higher ground we looked again with admiration 
 that never wearies on the Campagna with its circling moun- 
 tains. The soft and pensive haze of beauty that hangs over 
 this wide and melancholy expanse seemed yet more touching 
 in that evening hour. Ere we reached the gates of the city, 
 it was the " Ave Maria," and the chimes rung out from every 
 church, — rising and falling on the ear, as the gentle night- 
 breeze wafted them. 
 
 It was a fitting close to a day so full of the enjoyment of 
 the beautiful both in Nature and in Art. 
 
ST. JOHN LATERAN. 
 
 ^^EXT to St. Peter's, the venerable Basilica of 
 St. John Lateran is, in many respects, the 
 finest in Rome ; and certainly that to which 
 is attached the most peculiar interest. It 
 was the first Christian Church erected here ; 
 and it is on record that Constantino the Great 
 assisted with his own hands in digging the foun- 
 dations. It is further remarkable for Five Gene- 
 ■- J ral Councils held within it, which constitute important 
 C3 O eras in the history of the Church. 
 The fa9ade is built of travertine, with ten fine columns 
 supporting a massive entablature and balustrade, on which 
 are colossal statues of our Lord and ten saints. The rich 
 meUow colour which age imparts to the travertine, adds not a 
 little to the general aspect of the edifice. 
 
 The interior has been several times changed, and at pre- 
 sent loses much of the imposing efiect which its vast space 
 and fine nave would otherwise produce, from the stucco and 
 whitewashing with which the ceiling and the walls have been 
 barbarously covered. 
 
188 ART AND NATURE 
 
 The great omament of the nave is the Corsini Chapel : it 
 is truly a superb collection of all that is most gorgeous and 
 beautiful ! Highly finished ornaments of every description^ — ■ 
 gilding, bas-reliefs, columns of marble almost with the trans- 
 parency of agate, and so precious that their cost cannot be 
 estimated ; sparkling gems, too, are not wanting ; and yet 
 there is an exquisite taste pervading the whole, w^hich com- 
 pletely prevents the glare which so much magnificence might 
 otherwise occasion. 
 
 On one side of the Chapel is a celebrated porphyry sarco- 
 phagus, the Tomb of Clement XII., taken from the Pantheon. 
 Of the four figures which are placed in niches, one by Eusconi 
 pleased me particularly, from its simple grace ; but it was in 
 a little gloomy vaulted Chapel below, that we saw by far the 
 most interesting piece of sculpture. The group is cut out of 
 a single block of the very purest marble, and consists of the 
 Virgin Mary bending over the dead body of our Loi'd. It is 
 the only representation of the subject in marble I have seen, 
 in which both the expression of the features, and position of 
 the inanimate form of the Saviour, are at all satisfying. I 
 was exceedingly disappointed with the treatment of the same 
 subject by Michael Angelo, in St. Peter's, although so gene- 
 rally admired. The workmanship, no doubt, is fine ; but 
 even in this respect I cannot think Bernini's need yield ; 
 while in the latter, the unutterably touching expression of 
 the Virgin's face — the blending of earthly sorrow with Divine 
 consolation — excites the deepest interest and sympathy. 
 
 From the Church we went to the cloisters, which are good 
 specimens of the Gothic of the twelfth and thirteenth cen- 
 turies. The twisted columns, with the old mosaic ornaments 
 upon them, are very beautiful. A broken pillar is pointed 
 out, said by Church tradition to have been brought from 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 189 
 
 Jerusalem, and to have been thus split when the veil of the 
 Temple was rent in twain. Attached to the Basilica is a fine 
 portico, where the " Scala Santa" is placed. This far-famed 
 staircase consists of twenty-eight marble steps, brought, it is 
 said, from the house of Pontius Pilate, and the identical 
 stairs by which the Saviour descended when he was taken 
 fi'om the judgment-hall. It is impossible to look at, and to 
 tread upon those steps without a feeling of deep and peculiar 
 interest ; for so positive, and, so far as I am aware, unques- 
 tioned is the tradition relating to them, and at the same time 
 so far from improbable in itself, that I do not see why we 
 should refuse to receive it. To protect the marble from being 
 actually worn away by the multitudes who are continually 
 ascending these steps upon theh bare knees, it has been 
 found necessary to cover them over with a wooden casing ; 
 and this, we were told, has already been several times re- 
 newed. I certainly felt, as I watched the poor penitents 
 slowly ascending in this humble attitude, that however 
 mistaken their motives for so doing, yet that this was the 
 fitting posture in which to recall, in the presence of this 
 memorial, that which caused the foot of the Son of God 
 once to rest there ! 
 
 In a Chapel at the top of the " Scala Santa," is a portrait 
 of our Lord, attributed to St. Luke, and supposed to have 
 been taken when He was twelve years of age ! 
 
 The Baptistery of this Basilica formerly contained the 
 immense porphyry font (but very lately indeed removed to 
 the Vatican) in which Constantine received the rite of bap- 
 tism. In this same font Rienzi bathed on the night of 
 August 11, 1347 — the night before he shewed himself with 
 his badges of kniglithood, and was crowned in this Churcli 
 with the symbolical seven crowns. 
 
PICTURE GALLERIES. 
 
 I r OME days have been regularly devoted to 
 ^^^-; systematic sight-seeing, and a very fatiguing 
 ki^^ thing I must own it to be, even with all its 
 enjoyments ; nay, I almost think it is when 
 ^i^ one sits down quietly to arrange one's recol- 
 ^^0 lections, and class them under different heads, 
 that the greatest amount of enjoyment is felt. 
 Be that as it may, I must see how far, without 
 wearisome repetition, I can record the most prominent 
 ^ ^^jy^ features of what I have seen. 
 
 I find it difficult, even with aU my love for paintings, to 
 sketch them with my pen, some of those I most admire 
 possessing a kind of beauty which nothing but a pencil 
 dipped in a Raphael's colours can pourtray, or a Rogers' pen 
 can describe. Yet my own little cabinet would seem blank 
 without, at least, an outline of them. 
 
 The Borghese Gallery must take the first place therein ; 
 and I will begin with the " Entombment of Christ," the 
 first historical picture by Raphael, and painted by him when 
 in his twenty-fourth year. As usual with this great artist, 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 191 
 
 the spectators' personal sympathies are irresistibly appealed 
 to by the passions depicted. Perhaps one of the first objects 
 on which the mind dwells, is the mother's anguish. She 
 sees the Saviour borne to the sepulchre, his lifeless body 
 about to be laid in the " new tomb." She had stood near 
 him through his dying agony, and received his farewell of 
 tender care as He bequeathed her to the disciple " whom he 
 loved." " Last at the cross and earliest at the tomb," she 
 never left him while life remained. But now that his hfe- 
 less body is borne away, the mother of Jesus for the first 
 time gives way to her own sorrow, and falls back well-nigh 
 as lifeless as her Lord. 
 
 There is something so natural in the imagined filling up of 
 the sacred story by the painter in this picture, that one 
 cannot but go along with him in all he has defined. Scarcely 
 less touching is the intense grief of St. Peter, St. John, and 
 Mary Magdalene, whilst the gathering together of these 
 three — " the disciple whom Jesus loved," and the two whom 
 our Lord himself described as " loving much, for much had 
 been forgiven them," adds much to the truthful expression of 
 the whole. 
 
 •The picture which most fascinated me, after the one I 
 have described, is so different, that perhaps it should not 
 come immediately after a subject taken from Sacred Scrip- 
 ture ; yet no other gave me anything like the same degree 
 of pleasure, though pleasure of another kind. In naming 
 this, I must at the same time speak of one bearing the same 
 name in the Capitol, and indeed the finer of the two ; yet are 
 their expressions strangely different. The beauty of this face 
 is more touching, more innocent. She is younger, — fairer. 
 In the Sybil of the Capitol, — as I looked into the depths of 
 her dark eyes, so wild, so lustrous — I fancied her in the cave 
 
192 ART AND NATURE 
 
 which bears her name, the hght of torches flashing on her 
 mystic jewels, her many tinted robes, her high white brow ; 
 whilst her voice echoed through that vaulted cavern, as she 
 gave forth her oracles. Yes ; she is the Sybil of the Cumean 
 Cave. But for this fair timid girl, with her almost childlike 
 beauty, her eyes seem questioning the stars, as though she 
 were not yet content. It is truth methinks she seeks with 
 that earnest thoughtful gaze. There is sublimity in her lone- 
 liness, in her youth, in her fond but vain superstition. It is 
 a picture to dwell on in the still and solemn night, not in the 
 garish light of day. 
 
 There are two others which must not be wholly passed by : 
 the one by Domenichino, " The Chase of Diana ;" the colour- 
 ing is brilliant, but as a whole, it is devoid of that dignity 
 and purity which usually distinguish this Master. The other 
 is by Titian, " Sacred and Profane Love," an allegorical re- 
 presentation : two female figures sitting on the side of a well, 
 one clothed in white, the other with red drapery over the 
 shoulder. In colouring it is worthy of the artist. 
 
 And yet another noted picture there is here, — " St. An- 
 thony preaching to the Fishes :" to me it is positively ludicrous. 
 The saint, a most commonplace looking mortal, perched 
 upon a rock, with a green sky above and around him. It 
 looks like the sea reflected in the sky, instead of vice versa ; 
 and why not, upon an occasion so marvellous ? Meanwhile 
 the fishes are evidently not much impressed with the saint's 
 eloquence, and seem rather inclined to keep at a respectful 
 distance. I have no patience with such a picture as this. I 
 could forgive it were it designed to excite a smile ; but to see 
 people gravely discussing such a subject in the same room 
 with those other glorious creations, is a great trial of my 
 equanimity. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 193 
 
 I have spent almost too long a time in the Borghese niches 
 of my cabinet, and therefore pass by all others, and proceed 
 to the Palazzo Berberini, famed as possessing one of the 
 marvels of Rome — the Cenci of Guido. Little need is there 
 for me to dwell on that face, since once seen it is not likely 
 to be forgotten ; and yet it is not of its mere beauty I would 
 speak, for it is not one of surpassing loveliness. Moreover, 
 there is a gi-eenish tint in the shading round the mouth which 
 detracts yet more from it in this respect ; though if designed 
 to pourtray the wan look of confinement and despair, its effect 
 is most successful. There is an expression of gentleness, of 
 patient submission to her sad lot, which is even more striking 
 than the blank despair one might have expected. There is, 
 too, an utter carelessness in the whole of her attire, in the folds 
 of the heavy white drapery from which her hair has partially 
 escaped, while the golden gleam which has not yet faded 
 from its rich tresses, only contrasts the more strongly with 
 those lustreless eyes which can weep no more ! It is a sad- 
 dening picture, and one I had no wish to dwell on, notwith- 
 standing its pathos and its interest. 
 
 I did not much admire the Fornarina in this room ; at any 
 rate,- it is somewhat coarse, and looks yet more so beside the 
 refined and delicate Beatrice Cenci. I turned to a portrait 
 possessing peculiar attraction for me, viz., one of Cola Eienzi. 
 The charm with which the pen of Bulwer has invested this 
 noble Roman, was scarce needed to increase the kind of 
 veneration with which I contemplated this authentic repre- 
 sentation of the Last of the Tribunes. 
 
 On the morning of another of our sight-seeing days, M 
 
 wrote to fix the hour for calling with D to take us to 
 
 the Palazzo Sciarra, a small gallery, containing not only 
 very choice pictures, but very few inferior ones. Many of 
 
 N 
 
194 ART AND NATURE 
 
 them are well known, and have had more justice done to 
 their merits in the copies that have been produced from 
 them, than is generally the case. Moreover, there is no 
 doubt but that some pictures are more easily given in engrav- 
 ings than others. 
 
 I enjoy greatly visiting galleries of art with D — — ; not 
 only is his taste correct and cultivated in appreciating the 
 artistic beauty of a painting, but he also enters into its spirit 
 in a way after my own heart. 
 
 Here is that marvellous picture of Leonardo da Vinci, 
 " Modesty, and Vanity," two female half figures : the former, 
 with a veil over her head, has a particularly noble and digni- 
 fied profile, with a clear open expression. She beckons to 
 her sister, who is fronting you, gaily attired, and with a 
 smile half mischievous, half self-satisfied with the lovely face 
 she has just seen reflected in the small looking-glass which she 
 holds in her hand. It is all most wonderfully finished, and 
 the colouring peculiarly rich. A magnificent Titian next 
 attracted me : one of the female figures especially is as 
 splendid a piece of colouring as can be conceived, differing 
 from, though scarcely surpassing, that of the Leonardo I 
 have just noticed. These pictures somehow seem to set oif 
 the several beauties of each other, they are so perfect in their 
 different styles. This may be said of the Magdalen of Guido, 
 another lovely face, with the peculiar character of Guide's 
 ideal of female beauty strongly defined. The Violin Player, 
 by Eaphael, is too well known to need any detail, and it is 
 not a picture fi'om which either to draw a moral or to weave 
 a tale : the soft fur collar of the velvet cloak tempts to pass 
 one's hand over it ; but there is no poetry in it. The " Gam- 
 blers cheating," by Caravaggio, is that sort of picture which 
 is made disagreeable by very faithfulness to its subject. 
 
UNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. Jy5 
 
 From tliis Palace we paid another visit to the Palazzo 
 
 Doria, and on this occasion, as M and D pui-posed 
 
 calling upon the Princess Doria, I had an opportunity of 
 seeing the private apartments. These are not only furnished 
 with the utmost taste which a combination of English com- 
 fort and ItaUan magnificence can exhibit, but possess one or 
 two paintings of rare beauty. They are, generally speaking, 
 portraits, and therefore description would be out of place. I 
 was particularly struck with the effect of four rooms e7i suite, 
 in which the hangings were of colours the most strongly con- 
 trasted ; green, gold, crimson, and rich blue, with the orna- 
 ments in each corresponding. 
 
 Again we lingered to examine the treasures to be found 
 among the numerous paintings in this immense gallery. 
 Chiefest among these are the unrivalled Claude Lorraines, 
 known by the names of the Molino and Temple of Apollo. 
 It is not easy to describe a landscape painting, but one longs 
 to sit beneath the shade of those trees, so powerful is the 
 effect of the haze of heat shed over the distant mountains. 
 One feels the languor of the hour. Glowing under the femd 
 rays, even the very water seems as though it would fail to 
 cool. With a sensation as from the dewy breath of evening, 
 one turns next to the sunset which has gilded the Temple 
 of Apollo, and the irresistible acknowledgment rises in the 
 mind, that Claude was in truth a fitting painter for such a 
 land. 
 
 Not far from these is a St. Agnes, by Guercino, a face 
 such as one sometimes dreams of — a beauty with more of 
 heaven than earth in its expression. Here, too, is a cele- 
 brated landscape, " the Belisario," by Salvator Rosa, another 
 of Italy's painters, whose province was to pourtray her sterner 
 features. His chosen subjects are the mountain scene, the 
 
190 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 lonely defile, the rushing torrent, the eagle whirling round 
 its eyrie, the tear and strife of elements, or the deep impene- 
 trable forest, with its mysterious glades, its robbers' caves and 
 hidden recesses. These he puts before you at once with 
 power and nature. In looking at Salvator Eosa's landscapes, 
 I have always an impression of loneliness and desolation, 
 almost of awe ; especially as he generally introduces bandits, 
 or a hermit, or a wandering traveller. Truly he must have 
 had a living sympathy with all that is stern and wild. 
 
VESPERS. 
 
 HAVE had quite an adventure to-day, and 
 Avhile my mind is full of it, I will record it. 
 I do think there never was such a cicerone 
 
 as M ! How she contrives to 
 
 penetrate through the barriers even of cus- 
 "^ todes and closed doors, I know not, but certain it 
 is, that with her I am always sure of accomplish- 
 --^ ing what I wish on these occasions. We agreed 
 to go together to the Vespers at St. Peter's ; and, 
 knowing that on this evening every usual approach to 
 the side-chapel, in which the service is performed, would at 
 an early hour be thronged, I feared we were rather late. She 
 smilingly reassured me, and having directed the coachman, 
 he drew up at a small entrance I had not previously noticed. 
 We got out here, and entered one of the aisles farthest from 
 the principal entrance into St. Peter's. The great gates of the 
 chapel itself were closed, and pressing eagerly against them, 
 stood the multitude waiting for admittance. As we had a few 
 minutes to wait here, while my friend sent in her card to one 
 of the ecclesiastics with whom she was acquainted, I turned 
 
198 ART AND NATURE 
 
 away from the crowd, and sauntered on alone towards the 
 high altar. I was musing on the silence and solitude that 
 reigned in this part of the vast edifice, and contrasting it with 
 the bustle and confusion in that which I had left, when sud- 
 denly a voice fell on my ear — long unheard, yet familiar — 
 one whose tone recalled the sunny hours and pleasant scenes 
 of earlier days ! Eagerly looking round, I observed a tall 
 graceful figure leaning on the arm of a distinguished looking 
 man. I hastily advanced to where they stood, and saw at a 
 glance I had not been deceived. One word was enough, — 
 "Augusta!" A bright smile of recognition lighted up her 
 face ; and though long years had passed away since we met, 
 scenes and objects once familiar to us both — bygone hours of 
 light-hearted gaiety — dear mutual friends, who had shared 
 them with us, seemed all actually present once more ! 
 
 There is, to me, an intense and peculiar enjoyment in such 
 an unlooked-for meeting with one who may be valued not 
 only as a personal friend, but whose very presence has a 
 power to unlock the chambers of memory, and bring forth 
 from thence the endeared associations of the past. But on 
 
 these neither of us had now time to linger ; came almost 
 
 immediately to recall me, and hastily fixing an hour for 
 meeting on the following day, we parted, anticipating with 
 mutual pleasure tliis unexpected renewal of our intercourse. 
 
 Meanwhile, my friend's application had been answered in 
 person, by the Monsignore to whom it had been addressed. 
 
 , who speaks Italian beautifully, made known our 
 
 desire to secure a favourable place for enjoying the music ; 
 
 and, as soon as I had been introduced, Monsignore 
 
 requested us to follow him. He opened a door in one of 
 the square pillars in the side of the building, close to where 
 we were standing, so unexpectedly to me, that I was almost 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 199 
 
 startled. I scarcely think the minutest scrutiny could have 
 discovered any opening, it seemed so completely a part of the 
 stone pillar ; and as it noiselessly closed upon us, with many, 
 
 rising recollections of mysterious tales, I followed with 
 
 through a narrow vaulted passage leading to a small ante- 
 chamber. Here we waited for a few moments, but not long 
 enough to call for any exercise of patience. One of the offi- 
 cials presently approached, and desired us to follow him. 
 After another dark passage, we found ourselves at the inner 
 entrance to the chapel, where preparations for the service 
 were being made. It was with some degree of surprise, as 
 well as satisfaction, that we shortly found ourselves seated in 
 the very best position for hearing, and I may add for seeing 
 also, though that was of little consequence on this occasion. 
 
 We remained here upwards of half an hour, watching the 
 arrival of the Cardinals in full canonicals, before the doors 
 were thrown open and the eager crowd rushed in. It was, 
 indeed, a terrible rush, and we had reason to congratulate 
 ourselves on our good fortune. Yet this feeling lasted not 
 with me beyond the first few notes of the service. Little 
 should I have cared where I had been sitting or standing, so 
 that my ears could have drank in the melodious sounds, 
 which ere long floated amid the white clouds of incense that 
 filled the chapel ! 
 
 In one of the pauses which occurred, I for the first time 
 looked around me, and whom should I see standing at some 
 distance from me, in the very midst of the crowd, but dear 
 
 S , her lovely face paler than ever with mingled fatigue 
 
 and emotion. I instantly whispered to to keep my 
 
 place for an instant, and edging myself by degrees through 
 
 the crowd, I insisted on S taking my seat. Scarcely was 
 
 this arrangement completed, ere once again we were each 
 
200 ART AND NATURE 
 
 absorbed in the witching melody. The mighty building it- 
 self seemed to tremble with the Ml bursts which came ever 
 and anon sweejjing along, till aisle and arch were filled with 
 sound. And yet it was not this that reached my very soul ! 
 No ! it was one single voice, — a voice such as dreams of 
 the music of the spheres might shadow forth. Now — soft 
 and low, it seemed but its own sweet echo. Again — wild, 
 free, clear, it soared on high, seeming to carry one away 
 beyond the confines of earth, and there it floated like the 
 very spirit of the place. Sometimes it was alone, and thus 
 was its power even greatest ; and then again the silvery notes 
 rose clear and distinct above all other voices in the choir. 
 Never once did I lose a tone of that which was most beautiful, 
 where aU were beautiful. I had been all this time so ab- 
 sorbed as scarcely to have glanced at those who were around 
 me ; and when at length I casually did so, httle expected, 
 certainly, that my interest was to be so strongly awakened in 
 one of those who pressed against me in the densely crowded 
 spot. Amid the many well-dressed and fashionable persons 
 who thronged everj^ seat and every standing place, and in 
 striking contrast to them, I was attracted by a venerable 
 looking old man, with hair as white as snow. He was 
 partly supported by a staff on which he leaned, but his feeble 
 limbs would have found it insufficient, had not a young girl 
 lent her strength on the other side. His face was a noble 
 one, spite of the ravages of time, and it might be of sorrow 
 too. His apparel, though faded and almost bare, yet in its 
 scrupulous neatness, spoke no less of decent care than of 
 poverty. Indeed none could look upon him and doubt that 
 once he had known other and brighter days. After 1 first 
 observed him, I noticed that it was only when the voice 
 resumed, which had already so enchained my own attention. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 201 
 
 that he was moved. No matter how beautiful all else, his 
 ear seemed closed, and his head bowed upon his trembling 
 hands. But the moment the first and faintest tone of that 
 one of surpassing sweetness fell on the ear, his whole frame 
 awoke again to life and energy, and eagerly he endeavoured 
 to press ever nearer to the narrow portion of the chapel in 
 which alone the choir could be seen, as well as heard. 
 
 I was much interested in the old man, and the gentle girl, 
 who appeared divided between her anxious care for him and 
 the same intense interest in that voice. I marvelled whether 
 it was indeed its unrivalled power and sweetness that thus 
 breathed life even into the feeble frame of this aged man, — 
 that gave light to the eyes, and tinged with colour the faded 
 cheeks of the girl, whose countenance in repose iold a tale of 
 labour and sorrow. Ere long I discovered that it was not 
 alone the music which thus powerfully affected both. Once, 
 when some change in the position of the singers caused a tall 
 slight figure to stand nearer to the front of the gallery, the girl 
 eagerly leaned forward, and looking intently on the pale face 
 thus revealed, she whispered something to the old man, and 
 he too fixed his eyes on the same form. And what a look of 
 devoted affection was that ! As he gazed, the big tears, all 
 unconsciously as it seemed, rolled down his fuiTOwed cheeks. 
 During the next few moments, how many touching tales had 
 I not woven, fitting adjuncts to such deep and tender affec- 
 tion ! I scarcely heard any of the intermediate portions of 
 the service, only the music gave impulse and colouring to the 
 thoughts this unexpected incident had called forth. But a 
 change came. Yet once more was that voice thrilling every 
 heart — once more were its echoes wafted through the vast 
 space around ; and as I watched the face, but now so pale 
 and calm and still, kindled as it were by the glow of thought 
 
202 ART AND NATURE 
 
 which filled each note he uttered, and caught again the fixed 
 look of the old man, whose eyes were lighted with responsive 
 sympathy, it needed no vivid imagination to tell that it was 
 on a loved, it might be an only son he thus looked. The 
 voice melted away, — the last, softest whisper was hushed — and 
 the tall figure was gone. I turned to the old man and beheld 
 him close his eyes for a moment, and then placing his hand 
 within the arm of the young girl, I heard him murmur, as 
 he slowly withdrew from the place, whilst a sigh seemed 
 breathed from the very depths of his heart, ^^Efinito per me !" 
 I can scarcely tell how those sadly spoken words lingered on 
 my ear, — I seem to hear them even now ! I almost feared to 
 inquire about this father and son, lest some rude touch should 
 efface the mental picture I had drawn of both. But I have 
 since learned their real story ; and it is one which proves that 
 the poetry and pathos of real life may be more deeply affect- 
 ing than any tale of fiction. 
 
 The father was well-born, and with his two children had 
 lived in luxury. They were a happy and united family, 
 while the son was the idol of father and sister. His voice 
 from infancy had been their delight and pride, and doubtless 
 on many a moonlit eve, in their own fair home, had he sung 
 to them the native airs of Italy. But, alas ! in an evil hour, 
 and during one of those political outbreaks which so often 
 have brought ruin and desolation on all concerned, they lost 
 their all, and were cast helpless and neglected on the cold 
 pitiless world. Former acquaintances lost sight of them : 
 none knew whither they were gone : nor could any tell 
 whence came the noble-looking youth who sought instruction 
 previous to being received into the choir of St. Peter's. But 
 no sooner were his preparatory exercises completed, and he 
 had taken his place among that chosen band, than his exqui- 
 
UNDKH AN ITALIAN SKY. 20.} 
 
 site voice was universally appreciated. His increasing fame 
 brought gain as well as distinction, and he was enabled 
 wholly to support his now aged parent and his only sister. 
 
 This was their history ; but not all : there is yet one touch 
 of even deeper pathos. Very shortly after he entered on his 
 arduous duties, he was told that his frame could not long 
 support the physical exertion they demanded, while the 
 exhaustion he felt, when the excitement which sustained him 
 at the time passed away, too truly confirmed the fatal predic- 
 tion. He knew he should soon die, unless he gave up at 
 once his long clierished and now attained desire. And why 
 does he hesitate ? Is it the sweet cup of fame that he has 
 just raised to liis lips that he cannot put aside ? Is it his 
 enthusiastic love for those sacred melodies that flow like 
 inspiration from him, that refuses to be controlled, even 
 though his expiring breath should be given to them ? It is 
 none of these ! On the breath of his lips, in very trath it 
 may be said, depends the sole support of those he loves ! 
 His aged father's life is ftxst drawing to a close : the sands 
 are running low : and shall he prolong his own numbered 
 days at the cost of even one of liis ? No ! he would not 
 suffer a whisper of his state to reach his father's ears. Is it 
 wonderful, that while tears filled my eyes at this most 
 touching tale, I recalled the old man's sigh, and thought of 
 another and a sadder meaning which those murmured words 
 might 80 soon bear — ^^EJinifoj'X"*' w?e •'" 
 
THE CATACOMBS. 
 
 "^ ""ccoRDiNG to an arrangement very kindly made 
 
 for me, I one day accompanied S and 
 
 some friends to the Catacombs. 
 
 Through their acquaintance with Dr. 
 Grant, the head of the Scottish Roman Ca- 
 tholic College, and a very influential person, we 
 obtained permission to visit one of these burial- 
 places which had only lately been discovered and 
 opened up, and from which, consequently, a great por- 
 tion of the bodies had not been removed. We were 
 the only Protestants who had been allowed as yet to enter, for 
 usually, until the bodies and the various relics entombed with 
 them, which are supposed to designate the remains of mar- 
 tyrs, have been removed, none but good Catholics are suifered 
 to set foot within the sacred precincts. Of course the interest 
 attaching to these remains was far greater in such a case as 
 this ; since one not only saw the places where they had been 
 laid, but in two instances, at least, we looked into the freshly 
 opened tomb. Several times we saw the little phials which 
 had been placed beside them, still red with what" is supposed. 
 
AliT AND NATURE UNUEii AN ITALIAN SKY. 2U5 
 
 by those better able to determine tlie likelihood of such a 
 point than I am, to be the blood of the saints of God slain in 
 the cause of truth. 
 
 In the centre of a vineyard, some way beyond the walls, we 
 came to a low door with an inscription over it, to the purport 
 that none were to enter without the permission of those 
 authorized to give it. Each of us in succession received a 
 long wax-taper, the guide providing himself with several, and 
 we proceeded in silence along the narrow vaulted passages. 
 There was something awful in thus penetrating into the 
 abodes of the dead. After a very little advance, we came to 
 places where were the bones and skulls of those who had 
 been buried there in times when even the tomb, unless thus 
 concealed, secured not the senseless clay from the bitter fury 
 of relentless persecutors. Sometimes there were three or four 
 tiers or shelves on either side, entirely covered with these 
 mouldering remains of mortality, and occasionally whole 
 skeletons were to be seen. 
 
 Who could stand in such a place, and not feel the very 
 nothingness of earth and all its interests, its pleasures, pomp, 
 and splendour, compared with the inheritance purchased by 
 Him whose promises alone can take the sting from that king 
 of terrors, whose ruthless power was evidenced at every step ! 
 
 The guide stopped before a tomb, and Dr. Grant, calling 
 us round him, pointed out the sign of a martyr's resting-place, 
 — one whose very name at once carried the thoughts beyond 
 the gloom and darkness of the grave, beyond even the fiery 
 trial of the last earthly scene. A palm-branch was the 
 chosen emblem ; and was it not expressive ! Was it not that 
 sorrowing friends might dry the tears which dimmed the eye, 
 and learn to look, in faith renewed and strengthened, into 
 that heaven above where rest and triumph is now their por- 
 
206 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 tion — to think of them there, clothed in " the white robes," 
 which are " given them that were slain for the Word of God, 
 and for the testimony that they held," — with crowns of gold 
 upon their heads, and " palms in their hands," crying, " Sal- 
 vation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, and unto the 
 Lamb for ever ! " 
 
 Dr. Grant directed the guide to take from several of these 
 opened sepulchres of the martyrs, a little roughly formed 
 lamp, which seems to have been placed beside each tomb, 
 probably by those friends who may have lighted it when 
 they visited the spot where those dear to them were laid, — 
 when they came to " the grave to weep there." Even this 
 little earthen vessel seemed to speak of comfort, and to re- 
 mind one, amid these dark and gloomy recesses, that where 
 those blessed spirits^ now are, they need " no light, neither 
 the sun nor the moon, for the Lord God doth give them 
 light." Dr. Grant gave us each one of these little lamps, and 
 an interesting relic I shall ever regard it. 
 
 It was touching to notice marks of affection sometimes 
 found recorded. On one marble slab was roughly, but 
 legibly engraved, 
 
 '■ Flavius Filiiis carissimus." 
 
 How strange was it to read words traced, in all probability, 
 either at the time or very shortly after St. Paul yet lived and 
 spoke in Kome ! In many places, crosses were the only mark 
 upon the tomb, — an emblem then which it needed Christian 
 courage and constancy to own ! 
 
MUSEUM OF THE CAPITOL. 
 
 HE Museum of the Capitol is a rich treasuiy 
 of relics and works of art, gathered out of all 
 ages and from all quarters. 
 
 Passing the Basalt Lionesses at the foot 
 '' of the central steps, and the Columna Mil- 
 liaria, or first milestone of the Appian Way, 
 we came to the noble equestrian statue of Mar- 
 cus Aurelius, placed by Michael Angelo where 
 it now stands. A precious relic of art is tliis sole 
 specimen of an ancient equestrian statue in bronze ; 
 and as one observes the dignity of the emperor's figure, 
 as well as the bold free attitude of the horse, the admir- 
 ation with wliich Michael Angelo regarded it is easily 
 understood. 
 
 First, among the treasures of antiquity here assembled, 
 must stand the Bronze Wolf of the Capitol, though cer- 
 tainly more to be noticed as an object of curiosity than of 
 beauty. 
 
 Among the busts, is one of Michael Angelo which I looked 
 at with interest, said to be sculptured by himself. The head 
 
208 
 
 AKT AND NATUKE 
 
 is of bronze, and the Lust of white marble. This mixture of 
 colour and material appears strange to the unaccustomed 
 eye ; and though there are several beautiful works of art so 
 composed, yet their beauty, I am inclined to think, is in 
 spite of such a mixture rather than because of it. I admired 
 a statue, in Nero Antico, of Esculapius, and also two Centaurs 
 found in Hadrian's Villa, which are greatly valued by anti- 
 quaries. In this same villa was also found the Mercury, 
 called the Antinous, now in the Museum of the Capitol, 
 which surpasses in beauty that in the Vatican, though it in 
 its turn must yield the palm to one of the same name, 
 crowned with lotus leaves, which adorns at this day the 
 exquisite collection made by Winckelmann, at the Villa 
 Albani. In one of the halls of sculpture, there is a sarco- 
 phagus with bas-reliefs from ancient mythology. On one 
 side is a group of figures, so full of life and passion as to 
 exceed anything of the kind I ever saw. A soldier, belonging 
 to the conquering army, is dragging an Amazon from her 
 horse. The mingling of a courage which causes her still to 
 struggle with her captor, with a hopeless despair beginning 
 to steal over her, is pourtrayed with a power wdiich gives the 
 liveliest interest to the group. 
 
 But for me the Capitol possessed attractions apart even 
 from its classic treasures and earliest associations. It was of 
 Rienzi, that noble champion of freedom, I thought most in. 
 my visits here ! I had already traced out the different locali- 
 ties connected with his eventful history. I had stood beside 
 the ruins of his house, — had looked on the Church wliich bore 
 his first poetical appeal to the Koman people, — had followed 
 him, in imagination, as he led them on to freedom, at the 
 sound of the Great BeU of the Capitol. I had fancied him, 
 when his visions of power were realized, as he might have 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 209 
 
 trod the marble halls of the Colonna Palace, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of which much of his humble youth was spent ; 
 and now here before me was the celebrated table of Ves- 
 pasian, on which, as the model of his own purposed laws 
 and government, he explained to the haughty nobles the 
 power of the people. And here, too, the lion which saw 
 his wondrous triumph, and, alas ! witnessed also his cruel 
 fall ! The only spot I scarce could look upon was -the 
 window in the Capitol at which he, Rienzi — but now their 
 idol and their pride, asked only justice from his fellow- 
 citizens, and asked in vain ! 
 
 " His reign was brilliant — like those meteor stars 
 Whose glory dazzles, falls, aud disappears ; 
 Or like the transient lights in summer seen, 
 That flitting, leave no trace where they have been." 
 
 With eager anticipation I entered the hall wherein is the 
 dying Gladiator. What an instance of the wondrous power 
 of sculpture is here displayed — its power of carrying the 
 mind far beyond what the eye looks on ! It is not an im- 
 pression of mere physical suffering that is made by the sight 
 of that form ; neither is it admiration. Scarce a thought 
 even of the marvellous faithfulness to nature wliich it ex- 
 hibits can find a place. I only longed to see him lay 
 him down to sleep — even though the sleep of death ! It 
 is not bodily agony which marks those features and furrows 
 that brow ; that is forgotten now ! He is withdrawn from 
 all present feeUng — all circumstances around. His thoughts 
 are wandering far away. The quiet sadness of a mental fare- 
 well to beloved scenes and objects is softening and subduing 
 his spirit, ere death's darkness sinks down upon him ! But 
 no pen save his who has already told it, must touch that 
 tale of anguish. 
 
' He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes 
 Were witli his heart, and that was far away. 
 He reck'd not of the life he lost, nor prize ; 
 But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 
 There were his young barbarians all at play ; 
 There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, 
 Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday." 
 
BRACCIANO. 
 
 fflj ; HIS day was fixed by D- 
 
 Ajjril 5. 
 
 for a long- 
 talked-of expedition to the Lake and Castle 
 of Bracgiano, about twenty-five miles from 
 Rome, As we had to start very early, and 
 could not return till long after sunset at any 
 
 rate, W was obliged to give up the idea of 
 
 going. M therefore called for me, and we 
 
 proceeded to the Via Ripetta to take up Lady 
 
 G . At the Porta del Popolo we were joined by 
 
 T> , who had been collecting his forces, and soon 
 
 got under weigh, M: , Lady G — ■ — , and I, with Prince 
 
 L , were in one carriage ; the rest of the party were in 
 
 the M s' barouche. The road to La Storta is good, and 
 
 the four horses took us there in less than an hour. We there 
 found relays of horses waiting for us, and soon after turned 
 ofi" the high-road. 
 
 The scenery meanwhile disappointed us all, being exceed- 
 ingly barren and desolate, so we tried to console om-selves by 
 being very agreeable to each other. Even the extreme bad- 
 ness of the road helped to relieve its tediousness, for it was 
 
212 ART AND NATURE . 
 
 amusing to hear the exclamations that ever and anon broke 
 forth involuntarily, as a tremendous jolt dashed us one against 
 the other. For my own part, I could have dispensed with 
 the amusement, for it soon became positively frightful ; and 
 
 on one occasion even Prince L believed the caniage must 
 
 be upset. Still we persevered, and with careful driving, and 
 daylight to guide us, there was no actual danger. Not very 
 far from Bracciano is the deserted town of Galera, above the 
 valley of the Arrone. Many of its houses are built in the 
 Grothic style of the thirteenth century, at wliich period it 
 belonged to the Orsini family. The walls surrounding it, and 
 some of the dwellings, are more than two centuries older. 
 The site has been utterly deserted for many generations on 
 account of malaria, so that it is now in ruins. The situation 
 is very romantic, and there is something awful in the com- 
 plete silence and desolation around. Not a single living 
 creature of any kind is to be seen,^ — nothing but skeletons of 
 houses, their gaunt outlines half hidden by the most luxuriant 
 wreaths of ivy, wild vines, and tangled briars, whose graceful 
 festoons seemed as though designed to deck the tombs of the 
 victims who have perished there ! It is a strildng instance 
 of the power of this unseen agent of death, and reminded me 
 of the lovely Lake of Bolsena, whose shores are made desolate 
 by the same scourge. 
 
 Beyond Galera, the road — if such a wild track may be 
 dignified by the name — traverses a bare and dreaiy district, 
 
 recalling both to me and to D many a wild heathery 
 
 moor in Scotland. Indeed, for some time, we laughed at 
 
 D , and told him it was this resemblance to his beloved 
 
 " Caledonia stern and wild " that had lent such energy to his 
 praises of Bracciano, the wondrous attractions of which he 
 had discovered during a hunt which had led him into its 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 213 
 
 vicinity. Farther and farther still we went, yet not only, as 
 it seemed, no nearer Bracciano, but as far as ever from the 
 beautiful scenery we were led to expect. At length, however, 
 some of the party proclaimed the welcome intelligence that it 
 was in sight ; and certainly a finer scene of the kind could 
 not be easily imagined. 
 
 At some distance, on a very commanding eminence, rose 
 the frowning battlements of this feudal castle. In bold relief 
 against the sky the huge pile of building stood out ; and at 
 its base we were soon able to distinguish a cluster of low 
 houses forming a tolerably large village. A turn in the road 
 brought us in sight of the lake, and at that moment all 
 agreed that we were rewarded even for the long drive, the 
 uninteresting country, and the worst of roads by which we 
 had reached Bracciano. 
 
 The whole landscape was one peculiarly calculated to seize 
 on the imagination, combining, as it did, so much to excite 
 the fancy — carrying it back to feudal ages, and at the same 
 time, so much of the exquisite softness and loveliness of an 
 Itahan scene. 
 
 The lake, which is in the immediate vicinity of the castle, 
 is about twenty-five miles in circumference, but appeared to 
 be more, from the misty haze which hung over the more 
 distant parts. As we saw it first, it was clear and placid, 
 without a ripple on its glassy surface, and only darkened by 
 the deep shade of the castle or of the overhanging trees. The 
 huge basin which contains this fine sheet of water, presents all 
 the characteristics of an extinct crater, wdiile its shores have 
 all the picturesque variety and boldness which usually belong 
 to volcanic rocks. It is supposed to be the Lacus Sabatinus 
 of the Romans, and to have derived that name from the 
 ancient Etruscan city, Sabate, said to have been submerged 
 
214 ART AND NATURE 
 
 by the water of the lake ; so that the time of its existence as 
 a volcano must be distant indeed. 
 
 The castle assumed every moment a sterner and more 
 magnificent grandeur as we approached, and began to wind 
 up the tremendously steep eminence on the top of which it 
 stands. So steep was the road, that after the first part had 
 been accomplished, the horses refused to drag our carriage up 
 the second, or rather were unable to do so, for the poor 
 animals struggled hard, and almost fell ere they gave it up. 
 Few things make me more nervous than the danger of a 
 carriage rolling back, from obstinacy or want of power in the 
 horses. On this occasion it would have been a serious matter, 
 and therefore I gladly seized a moment when it was stationary 
 
 to jump out, and help M to do the same. When every 
 
 one had alighted, we walked to the vaulted entrance which 
 led from the first large court which we had already reached, 
 to the smaller one immediately around the castle. Nothing 
 could more perfectly realize one's ideas of a feudal dwelling 
 and feudal times than Bracciano ; and I was not surprised 
 to learn, that Sir Walter Scott had derived more pleasure 
 from a visit to this castle than from almost any other place 
 in Italy. Truly it seems well fitted for the scene of some 
 wild, mysterious story of romance, such as he would weave. 
 
 The building stands on the rocky eminence, — almost a part 
 of the rock itself, the side next the lake rising abruptly and 
 perpendicularly from the water to the first terrace. Four 
 lofty towers, each with a separate winding stair, and secret 
 means of communication, rise from the four sides. The whole 
 edifice is built of black volcanic stone, and its battlements, 
 terraces, and Gothic windows are in good preservation. I 
 have never before seen a building formed of stones of so black 
 a colour, and doubtless this sombre hue increases the solemn 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 215 
 
 and imposing effect of its size, heiglit, and impregnable 
 strength. It looks a place for deeds of darkness and of dread. 
 In spite of the romantic ideas which I believe we all more 
 or less indulged in, it was carried, without a dissenting voice, 
 that we should first adjourn to the kitchen, and attack the 
 stores of M. le Cuisinier, whom D had providently dis- 
 patched some two or three hours in advance. The scene was 
 not bad, as we all gathered round the various baskets, and 
 seemed to afford infinite amusement to sundry men, women, 
 and children, who had assembled to stare at the unwonted 
 
 visitors. After we had recruited ourselves a little, D 
 
 called a council of state to deliberate on the proceedings of 
 the day. It was just half-past twelve o'clock, and, as we had 
 abundance of time before us, it was settled that the earlier 
 we dined the better, as the roads in returning would be abso- 
 lutely impassable in the dark. To meet every one's wishes, 
 half-past three was named as the hour for assembling in the 
 gloomy old hall, once more to make it resound with the mirth 
 of an entertainment. This momentous point settled, we 
 summoned a picturesque damsel as our guide among the 
 winding stairs, and endless narrow passages, which promised 
 to be not a little confusing. The views from the towers were 
 really magnificent, — extending over a vast range of country. 
 The richness and luxuriant beauty of the part immediately 
 around the castle, especially on the side opposite to that by 
 which we had approached, together with the glittering sheet 
 of water spread out below, entirely reheved the barrenness of 
 the far distance. The day, and the state of the atmosphere 
 too, were pecuharly favourable for such a prospect. There 
 was not a bright unclouded Italian sky, but fitful gleams of 
 sun-light, casting a passing radiance on different parts of the 
 landscape, now reveahng, now hiding them from view, with 
 
216 ART AND NATURE 
 
 never-ending variety. There seemed a weight in the atmo- 
 sphere that suggested fears of a coming storm, though an hour 
 afterwards, when the sun again shone out for a httle, we 
 forgot our apprehensions, and extended our walk along the 
 margin of the lake. 
 
 I was particularly" struck with the view from one point 
 here, the assemblage of objects was so much in character with 
 the whole nature and associations of the place. It was a 
 scene which Salvator Rosa would have chosen for his pencil. 
 The black, frowning mass of building in the foreground ; the 
 mysterious caverns to the right of the narrow gateway, from 
 whence volumes of smoke rolled out and hung heavily in the 
 air, while every now and then flashes of lurid flame burst 
 through them, and human figures were seen flitting to and 
 fro. In the distance, dark lowering clouds were creeping up 
 from the west ; in front of us lay the waters of the lake in 
 leaden stillness ; and the pine trees which here abound, — those 
 sombre children of the forest which always impart something 
 of melancholy and of sternness to the landscape — stood motion- 
 less in the breezeless air. All was hushed, save at intervals, 
 when there came a low soft sound, almost hke a sigh of sor- 
 row, as the wind, awaking for a moment, passed through the 
 branches of the tall pines, and, dying in a distant murmur, 
 left all again silent ! Any one who loves as I do that sorrow- 
 ful yet soothing sound will appreciate those Hues of Taylor's, 
 which naturally occurred to my memory : — 
 
 " The Wind, when first he rose and went abroad 
 Through the waste region, felt himself at fault — 
 Wanting a voice, and suddenly to earth 
 
 Descended 
 
 Where, wandering volatile from kind to kind, 
 He wooed the several trees to give him one. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 217 
 
 Lastly, the Pine 
 
 Did he solicit, and from her he drew 
 A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep, 
 That there he rested : welcoming in her 
 A mild memorial of the ocean-cave 
 Where he was born." 
 
 It was proposed that we should first go to the caverns we 
 had observed, though we knew that the romance, with which 
 we had invested them, would be dispelled as soon as the iron- 
 foundry ^ which in fact they were, was reached. 
 
 From this we strayed on through the wildest, loveliest 
 paths — flowers breathing perfume on every side, — now crossing 
 a little pebbly brook flowing onwards to contribute its mite 
 to the lake below, — now wandering in a shady wood, where 
 the earlier trees had already put on the first bright hue of 
 spring, — and then, again, climbing over rocks and huge masses 
 of stone, hurled down by the torrent in its winter fury. The 
 little glen we reached at length was a perfect garden of 
 beauty. Large trees of myrtle, laurustinus, ilex, the Judas- 
 tree with its lovely Hlac flowers without leaves, and thou- 
 sands of fruit-trees in full bloom, as in an English orchard in 
 the month of May. We walked on till we reached the lake ; 
 but whilst still lingering by its shores, gathering violets and 
 many a lovely wild flower, it began to rain, and we were 
 forced to remember how far we had wandered. Meanwhile 
 some donkeys were sent for to assist the wearied, but only one 
 could be found, and that with a man's saddle. Upon this, 
 however, by turns we mounted, managing to sit as best we 
 might, with the help of the one short stirrup we could make 
 use of, — Prince L acting as muleteer. 
 
 It was already long past the hour named for dinner when 
 we reached the Castle, and even then further delay took 
 place, so that it was nearly five o'clock before we sat down. 
 
218 ART AND NATURE 
 
 Kapidly passed the time, and it was six o'clock ere we be- 
 thought ourselves how late it was. I was by no means com- 
 fortable, not only at the idea of travelling by that road in the 
 
 dark, but from knowing how anxious W would be were 
 
 we long delayed. As the rain still continued, it was arranged 
 that we ladies should occupy the closed carriage, the gentle- 
 men following in the barouche. On we went, tolerably 
 well for about half an hour ; then came the first stoppage, 
 which was made for the purpose of lighting the lamps. This 
 done, we moved on again, but scarcely another half hour had 
 passed when a second halt was called. By this time it was 
 pitchy dark ; the short twilight had quickly passed, and was 
 succeeded, not only by the darkness of night, but the black- 
 ness of a storm. And now down came the rain in torrents, 
 whilst blacker and blacker closed in the heavy clouds. The 
 post-boys declared they could not see their horses' heads, and 
 would not stir an inch further ; — a pretty pHght truly to be 
 in ! A wild black moor, uninhabited unless by bandits ; 
 an almost impassable road ; a perfect hurricane of rain 
 and wind, and presently a thunderstorm added to all else ! 
 We had torches with us it is true, but vain were the most 
 persevering efforts to kindle them. It was difficult to deter- 
 mine what was to be done. At last a star of hope, as it 
 seemed to us, shone out in the distance, and as it drew nearer, 
 proved to be the lamp in the char-a-banc of the cook, better 
 placed, it would seem, for security against the storm than our 
 own. The vehicle passed us as directed, and we found great 
 advantage for a little while in following it ; but ere long, — 
 borne to us by the wind, came sundry loud shouts, and look- 
 ing back, we saw with dismay the barouche at some distance 
 upset, as it appeared by the position of its two twinkling 
 lights. In a few moments D • ran up to tell us that a 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 219 
 
 carriage-spring had broken, but that they were all safe. The 
 rain continued to pour in torrents, the thunder rolled, while 
 every moment the heavens were illumined by vivid flashes 
 of lightning. Of course, long before we could call out to stop 
 it, the char-^-banc, with its guiding star, was far beyond 
 recall. Suddenly a gust of wind, of extra violence, extin- 
 guished three of the lamps belonging to the two carriages, so 
 that now one little flickering light was our forlorn hope. 
 This was, indeed, a crisis in the adventure ! For full twenty 
 
 minutes did D stand beneath the partial shelter of our 
 
 ill-closed carriage, trying to relight the other lamps, succeed- 
 ing at length just as patience, and a whole box of lucifer 
 matches were alike all but exhausted ! But even when this 
 was achieved there was the broken carriage to be patched up, 
 so as at least to enable it to proceed. Once more we crept 
 on, every instant expecting to share the fate of our compa- 
 nions, so tremendous were the jerks, whilst one or other of 
 the horses was on the ground every few paces. Yet deliberate 
 as our advance had been, great was the dismay on looking 
 back, after a little while, to discover that our unhappy friends 
 were no longer within sight ! Hereupon ensued a most edify- 
 ing instance of the extreme coolness and nonchalance some- 
 times to be met with in Italian servants, — perhaps I should 
 rather say in this class of them. At the very outset, Filippo, 
 
 D 's laquais de place, had shewn considerable ingenuity 
 
 in establishing himself in the snuggest comer of the box, be- 
 neath the shelter of a huge umbrella, imperturbably main- 
 taining his position all the time of the endeavour to hght the 
 lamps. But at such a moment as this, we of course expected 
 he would feel called upon at least to go and see if he could 
 be of any service to his master. Not a movement did he 
 make. Finding it hopeless to expect any spontaneous act of 
 
220 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 the kind, M quietly suggested, — " Filippo, pourquoi 
 
 n'allez vous pas voir ce qui en est ?" With an inimitable 
 " E — eh !" he replied, " Madame, a quoi bon ? assurement 
 je serais tout mouille." " Eh bien ! et que pensez vous est 
 
 M. le M ?" rejoined M , with only too little severity, 
 
 yet not expecting further delay. With indescribable non- 
 chalance, and a shrug which in itself spoke volumes, he 
 
 answered, " Ah, mais pour M, le M , il a un bon 
 
 manteau, lui ! le mien, voyez, c'est en chiffons ! " It is 
 nothing when simply related, and without the accompani- 
 ment of the scene, the voice, the manner. Though exces- 
 sively annoyed, and anxious about the missing carriage, it 
 was scarcely possible to refrain from laughing at such perfec- 
 tion of cool selfishness. Notwithstanding, I soon took it upon 
 myself to inform Monsieur Filippo, that if he did not descend 
 
 instantly, M. le M should hear of it. This produced the 
 
 effect of causing him slowly to raise himself from his seat ; 
 and grumbling out something, in which " Bracciano" and 
 "inferno" seemed in very emphatic juxtaposition, he at length 
 proceeded towards the carriage, just as it was approaching. 
 
 It would be tedious to enumerate all the stoppages which 
 took place, but at last the rain ceased, the storm died away, 
 the stars looked out on the deep and quiet night, and ere 
 long we learned, with thankfulness, that we had reached La 
 Storta. 
 
 There the broken carriage was exchanged, and fresh horses 
 and smooth roads relieved us from all our discomforts. In 
 little more than an hour we entered Eome, and having 
 
 dropped Lady G , Prince L , and Mr. H , at 
 
 their respective abodes, we drove to Capo le Case, where most 
 gladly I alighted at my o^vn. It was between one and two 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
RECEPTION IN THE COLONNA PALACE. 
 
 HROUGH D 's acquaintance with the Prince 
 
 Torlonia, who by the way is also Duca di 
 Bracciano, and possessor of that noble baro- 
 nial castle, we received an invitation to a 
 grand " reception" in the Palazzo Colonna, 
 given in honour of a member of that family, who 
 had just been raised to the dignity of Cardinal. 
 On these occasions, it is customary for the 
 nearest relative to give a series of such entertainments, 
 for the purpose of introducing the Cardinal elect. 
 The first is usually the most magnificent, as then the noble 
 families in Rome are present, in all the array of full dress, 
 diamonds, orders, and such like. 
 
 We thought ourselves fortunate in seeing, on so brilliant 
 an occasion, the Colonna Palace, which possesses the most 
 splendid haU in Rome. Moreover, the lovely Princess Tor- 
 lonia, a near relation to the new Cardinal, was to do the 
 honours of the evening, and, by her well-known grace and 
 beauty, to give, as we anticipated, a perfect finish to the whole. 
 I had agreed to chaperone and A M , and 
 
222 
 
 ART AND NATURE 
 
 accordingly called for them about eight o'clock in the evening. 
 The street leading to the palace, and the court before it 
 were lighted up, and bands of military music were perform- 
 ing ; the whole wearing a gay and festive appearance. 
 Ascending the wide marble stairs common to all Italian 
 palaces, and passing through the vast halls, we came to the 
 suite of rooms in which the numerous attendants were ready 
 to receive and announce the arrival of the guests. In the 
 third of these stood the beautiful hostess and the new Cardi- 
 nal. Never did I behold a more dazzling form than that of 
 the Princess ! Her diamonds were almost of fabulous mag- 
 nificence and number. A tiara of matchless splendour 
 encircled her brow, whilst ipis of corn fastened up the luxu- 
 riant plaits of hair behind. Eows of these gem^ wej-e round 
 her throat and arms, while a girdle of smaller ones confined 
 at the waist the gorgeous dress she wore, tenuinating in a 
 cord and tassels which reached nearly to her feet. With 
 every graceful movement, gleams of dazzling brilliance flashed 
 from her, and yet withal her own beauty shone with only the 
 purer lustre amidst it ; and more beautifully bright than any 
 diamonds were her eyes, lighted up with pleasure and kindly 
 feeling, as she came forward to welcome her guests. 
 
 After a few words from the host and hostess, addressed to 
 each, we advanced to the great hall ; and surely of all the 
 scenes of magic splendour which one has seen or read of, no- 
 thing could weU surpass this as it opened upon us ! 
 
 The hall itself, upwards of one hundred and fifty feet in 
 length, is lined with beautiful marbles, while transverse rows 
 of pillars of giallo antico portion off a kind of raised vestibule 
 at either end. Thousands of wax-lights were ranged along 
 the walls, and clustered round the columns — the polished 
 marble reflecting them again and again as in a mirror. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 223 
 
 Several of the other Princesses wore very splendid dia- 
 monds also ; those of the Princess Borghese were particularly- 
 fine, and tastefully arranged. The innumerable lights brought 
 out the refulgence of the sparkling gems, and when to these 
 were added the variety and beauty of the dresses, amid which 
 the extraordinary richness of the Hungarian costume, worn 
 by several noblemen, was conspicuous, as were several others 
 marking the official rank or nationality of the wearer, the 
 effect, in splendour and gay colouring, was indeed perfect. 
 
 It was beneath the radiance of these countless lights of 
 which I have spoken, that we saw the pictures in this gallery ; 
 and though not by any means a fine collection, some there 
 were \vhich seemed fitly to adorn it. I was struck with one 
 in a style 1 do not usually care for, but on this occasion it 
 seemed apposite. It was a cabinet of rich jewels and ob- 
 jects of virtu, represented with wonderful fidelity ; and as 
 I looked on the gems which flashed around, I could ahnost 
 beheve that those before me in the picture sparkled as really 
 as they. 
 
THE VATICAN PICTURES AND FRESCOES. 
 
 AViNG already a memorandum of the Statuary 
 in the Vatican, as seen by torchhght, I shall 
 not again refer to it, but go at once to that 
 room which contains five paintings, — each 
 possessing a world-wide fame. 
 1st, The Transfiguration, by Raphael. Very 
 peculiar interest must this picture excite as the 
 ■ y last production of the illustrious Master. 
 None can so well relate the circumstances which 
 (, C connected it with his death and funeral, as the poet 
 whose spirit is so deeply imbued with aU that is beautiful in 
 Italy, whether in its works of art or its scenes of nature. 
 
 The painting was hung over his bier, as the body of the 
 artist lay in state, previous to its burial. 
 
 " And when all beheld 
 Him where he lay, how changed from yesterday ; 
 Him in that hour cut off, and at his head 
 His last great work ; when entering in, they looked 
 Now on the dead, then on that masterpiece — 
 Now on his face, lifeless and colourless, 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 22') 
 
 Then on those forms divine, that hved and breathed, 
 And would live on for ages ; — all were moved, 
 And sighs burst forth and loudest lamentations." 
 
 Rogers. 
 
 The upper division of the picture is the most beautiful : 
 the centre figure is that of the Saviour. Truly would it seem 
 as though the pencil of the painter had been dipped in the 
 essence of light, so powerfully has he represented the efful- 
 gence and visible glory of Him whose " face did shine as the 
 sun," and his raiment became " white as the Hght," The 
 figures of the two Prophets who " talked with Him," and of 
 the three Disciples, who seem overwhelmed with the heavenly 
 vision, are admirably represented. 
 
 The lower compartment draws one down again to earth 
 with all its sorrows and sufferings. One of the most promi- 
 nent figures is a lad possessed with an evil spirit, whom his 
 father is bringing to the disciples to see if they can cure 
 him, 
 
 2c?, The Madonna di Foligno, to which the most elaborate 
 description could do no justice, — for the charm of the picture 
 lies in the exquisite expression of gentleness and softness in 
 the countenances of the Virgin, and of the attendant Angel : 
 indeed, I think the latter must well-nigh be the most perfect 
 realization of pure and heavenly beauty ever wrought by the 
 pencil. 
 
 3d and 4th, The subject of these two is the Coronation of 
 the Virgin. To me, neither of them, however fine as paintings, 
 possessed any interest. But again my warmest admiration 
 was called forth by the 5th, " The Communion of St. Jerome," 
 by Domenicliino. This is undoubtedly his chef d'ceuvre ; 
 and well may the Bolognese school boast of producing such a 
 masterpiece. The scene is evidently supposed to be in Syria; 
 
22() AKT AND NATURE 
 
 the Arab attendant and the Lion identify it with that land. 
 St. Jerome, worn out with age and infirmity, pale and 
 emaciated, is feebly kneeling in lowly humility at the altar ; 
 and bending over liim, with an expression of reverence and 
 love, as he administers the consecrated elements, is St. 
 Ephraim, clothed in the robes of the Greek Church. The 
 emotions depicted in the countenances and attitudes of each, 
 as well as in those of the youth who kneels with his gaze 
 fixed on the dying Father, and of the female saint who is 
 j)ressing her lips upon his thin hand — are what peculiarly 
 constitute the high excellence of this picture. But, in addi- 
 tion, the whole possesses the richest and most gorgeous 
 colouring, remarkable especially in the Dalmatica worn by 
 the Deacon who stands beside the Bishop bearing the cup. 
 
 From the Picture Gallery we passed on, by long and 
 spacious porridors, to that part of the Vatican, called the four 
 Stanze of Raphael. These contain some of the finest produc- 
 tions of this great Master. First there is the Camera della 
 Segnatura, the four walls of which are painted with the 
 following subjects : — 1. Theology ; 2. Poetry ; 3. Philosophy, 
 or the School of Athens ; 4. Jurisprudence. It is impossible 
 to describe the separate beauties of each, so I shall only men- 
 tion more particularly the one I hked best — " Philosophy." 
 
 Not only is the whole conception of this most admirable, 
 but it presents at once to your eye the persons of all the 
 famous men of those days, with their individual characteristics. 
 It represents a large hall, wherein are assembled the leaders 
 of the various schools of philosophy, with their disciples. A 
 flight of steps raises the more distant figures ; and you behold 
 Plato and Aristotle standing in the centre, as if disputing on 
 their doctrines. Plato points upwards mth uplifted arm ; 
 Aristotle stretches his hand towards the earth. At each side 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 227 
 
 is a line of attentive hearers : near them, towards one side of 
 the picture, stands Socrates, explaining to a group of listeners 
 something in order, as it seems, for he is counting on his 
 fingers. Opposite, other persons are engaged in study or in 
 conversation. On the left, in the foreground, as the great 
 representative of Arithmetic, is Pythagoras, writing with a 
 foHo on his knee. On the right, Archimedes constructs a 
 geometrical figure on a tablet which lies upon the ground : 
 while several scholars watch its progress with interest ; the 
 different degrees of their intelligence represented most vividly. 
 Next to these are Zoroaster and Ptolemy, representing respec- 
 tively astronomy and geography, with celestial and terrestrial 
 globes ; while before them on the steps, apart from all others, 
 reclines Diogenes the Cynic. Near the edge of the picture, 
 Raphael himself enters the hall, in company with his master 
 Perugino. 
 
 The ceiling in the Sistine Chapel contains Michael Angelo's 
 celebrated Frescoes ; representing, in four separate parts, the 
 Creation and Fall of Man, with its immediate consequences. 
 
 1. The representation of the Creation of the Sun and Moon, 
 supposed to be one of the most sublime ever conceived of the 
 subject ; but for myself I do not like any such attempts to 
 represent the embodied presence of God the Father — ^though 
 doubtless none has ever equalled this. We see Him assigning 
 the two great orbs their places ; but even as I looked, I 
 thought how far more sublime is the conception conveyed by 
 the simple words : " Let there be light ; and there was light." 
 This mere fiat of the will Omnipotent, is surely far more 
 godlike than such ideas as the painting calls forth. — 2. The 
 Awakening the first Man to Life. In this, Adam's figure and 
 countenance are admirable ; and there is a force of expression, 
 and a depth of thought in the whole scene, very striking 
 
228 ART AND NATUllE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 
 
 indeed. — 3. The Fall of Man, and his Expulsion from Para- 
 dise. The Tree of Knowledge stands in the centre, the Serpent 
 is twined round the stem, and bends towards the guilty pair, 
 as though to triumph in what is going on. The figure of 
 Eve is most lovely. In another part of the scene, though 
 close to the Serpent, hovers the Angel with the sword of 
 vengeance. In this union of the two moments, we seem to 
 see the sin and its punishment at once. — 4. The Deluge ; a 
 wonderful picture, but too elaborate to be described, as, in- 
 deed, are the other parts of this celebrated ceiling. I must, 
 however, at least name the famous fresco on the end waU, of 
 the " Last Judgment," which Michael Angelo commenced in 
 his sixtieth year. He began it for Clement VII,, and finished 
 it in seven years, during the pontificate of Paul III, It is a 
 most extraordinary work of art, — marvellous in the variety of 
 form and attitude among the countless figures it contains. 
 But its extent and intricacy of arrangement render anything 
 like description out of the question. 
 
VILLAS. 
 
 ow lovely is this fresh spring-time, and how 
 sweet the young beauty with which it decks 
 the crumbling palaces, the fallen pillars, the 
 mined towers of the ancient city ! 
 
 It has stolen on me with a sweet surprise. 
 I was wont to think of Rome rather beneath the 
 rich dyes of autumn, — with its evanescent glor}-, 
 ~y'(^:^ ^ here so fit a type : — its mournful tones ; its chill 
 •^ and sighing breeze that seems to mourn over the 
 ( '^. beauty it is commissioned to destroy ; — to think of it, 
 — now lighted up for a brief moment with a crimson flush, 
 like the hectic glow on the cheek of fading health, or the 
 short-lived smile upon the face of sorrow, — now sad, pale, and 
 cold, shrouded in the wintry garb of a mourner. It was thus 
 that I had dreamt of Rome ; — ^but now I see her with a rich 
 and lavish adornment : the wide Campagna clothed as with 
 a gay and holiday attire : the broken arches of the several 
 aqueducts hung about with festoons : the mouldering tombs 
 garlanded with tresses of the wild vine, and fringed with 
 light and feathery sprays of celandine, half concealed by tlie 
 
230 ART AND NATUEE 
 
 clustering luxuriance of the leafy drapery, as though, where 
 all is redolent of life, it behoved that these pale spectres of 
 the past should be hidden out of sight. 
 
 The trees have all put on their fairest garments. The pink 
 stems and polished leaves of the tamarind ; the dark shining 
 green of the cork and the ilex, with their rough gnarled 
 branches twisted into every variety of fantastic form ; the 
 willow, bending over its own shadow, in graceful contrast ; 
 the olive — one of Italy's own fruitful and poetic trees — with 
 its old grey knotted trunk and hoary hue, which, even in that 
 bright spring, sobers the gaiety of the foHage around, tem- 
 pering all glaring colours, and harmonizing as vnth a soft 
 and neutral tint the contrast between the sap^jhire blue of 
 sky and sea, and the emerald green of her fairer sisters of 
 the forest. Even the grand old pines, so stern and joyless, 
 seemed to wear a smile, like age wooed by rosy childhood : 
 while round and round upon the circling hills the shadows 
 chased each other as in sport, — now darkening over some 
 far off Alban village on its mountain site, — now revealing its 
 white houses through a veil of purple hght, like pearls glit- 
 tering from their amethyst setting, then melting into that 
 mellow light — ^that silvery haze — which gives such wondrous 
 beauty to the distant landscapes of this clime. 
 
 But not alone on the far off hills, on the fragi'ant shrubs, 
 and on the fresh untainted hues of the foliage is this lavish 
 outpouring of spring's beauty to be found. It is not less 
 upon the luxuriant turf, amid mosses soft and bright as 
 though for fairy feet alone to press, that this wealth of loveli- 
 ness is scattered ! There are the ruby-coloured anemones, 
 the sapphire \dolet and hyacinth, the pearl-hke daisies, the 
 trembling, quivering celandine — each tiny branch an emerald 
 spray, the turquoise blue of the forget-me-not — alike dear in 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 231 
 
 all lands to remembrance and association, the dew-drops for 
 diamonds,— all forming such mosaic-work as never did Flo- 
 rentine or Venetian equal ! And the gladsome birds, how 
 they too carolled in the fulness of their joy, as though con- 
 scious that these were Nature's happiest holidays ! It pleased 
 me, on such a day as this, to stand and look upon one of those 
 wonderfully beautiful frescoes which seem almost to reflect 
 the aerial tints of an Italian sky, so fitly does the pencil re- 
 produce them. Such a chme needed such an art, with its 
 graceful airy style, with the soft yet gorgeous richness of its 
 colours, above aU, of that deep peculiar blue which nothing 
 but fresco-painting can give. 
 
 In the casino of the Kospigliosi Palace is that beautiful 
 personification of spring — the "Aurora" of Guido, In truth 
 it is the very poetry of painting ! Her youthful, joyous face 
 and airy figure, as she floats upon the azure sky, scattering 
 flowers on the earth below, — the pliant gracefulness of motion, 
 — ^with all around so fresh, so glowing with the glad sunshine 
 of early morning, one can fancy the dew-drops lingering yet 
 upon those falling flowers, and the sweetness of their breath 
 diffused upon the air. 
 
 Even as I lingered there, a faint whisper came to me from 
 days that are gone ! Long years have roUed on since first I 
 heard of this painting. How often have I listened entranced 
 to the voice that was sweet to me as a mother's, while with 
 rarest powers of description it awoke my childish interest in 
 this fair land, and its treasures of art and beauty ! That 
 building, those gardens, each object on which my eye now 
 rested, aU were associated with her whose home was once 
 here, and with those who passed many of childhood's brightest 
 hours amid these scenes ! 
 
 Another such lovely day was spent at the Villa Ludovisi. 
 
232 ART AND NATURE 
 
 It is very difficult to gain admission to this Villa, and of 
 
 course it is all the more sought after. M , however, had 
 
 a carte-hlanche order for admittance, so that I went more 
 than once. The gardens belonging to it are shady and plea- 
 sant, with walks through an olive wood, which pleased me 
 better than the usual stiff and formal parterres. But the 
 chief attraction is Guercino's "Aurora." In this fresco, the 
 goddess is represented in a triumphal car, from which she is 
 strewing flowers. Daybreak is personified by a youth with an 
 extinguished torch. It is undoubtedly very beautiful, but 
 should be seen before, not after, that of Guido. 
 
 The Sculpture Gallery contains several fine statues ; but I 
 shall name only one. It is a very noble colossal head, known 
 as the Ludovisi Juno. In general, I do not feel much admi- 
 ration for sculpture on so immense a scale, unless so placed as 
 to 1)6 brought down to ordinary proportions by corresponding 
 vastness in all around ; but this must rank as an exception. 
 The combination, in that countenance, of calm majesty and 
 commanding dignity, with feminine softness and grace, im- 
 pressed me as a very rare and happy mingling of the beautiful 
 and the sublime in moral expression ; and I could not but 
 own that the very size and grandeur of those colossal pro- 
 portions tend stiU more to heighten such an effect. 
 
 Perhaps the most attractive of the villas in the neighbour- 
 hood of Kome is the Albani. It is a little way beyond the 
 Porta Salara, and was built by Cardinal Albani. The design 
 was entirely his own ; and one cannot but acknowledge it to 
 be a fitting casket for the gems of sculpture it contains, and 
 which he spent a lifetime in collecting. The Portico, or 
 Arcade — as it is better called, supported by twenty-eight 
 pillars of the rarest marbles, opens upon a garden most taste- 
 fully laid out, ornamented with fountains and terraces, gay 
 
UNDEU AN ITALIAN SKY. '2X', 
 
 with a ricli luxuriance of roses and flowers of every hue, 
 wliile beyond it is a semicircle of columns, statues, and vases. 
 In this splendid Arcade, suitably placed, and arranged so as 
 to shew each to the greatest advantage, are most choice 
 groups and figures in statuary, nearly all of them well known 
 to fame. Two columns of extreme beauty ornament the long 
 gallery through which one passes into the lower rooms. One 
 of these is of solid alabaster, and antique ; the other of jasper. 
 Here is also a sarcophagus of Avhite marble, rendered exceed- 
 ingly precious by the bas-relief upon it of the Marriage of 
 Peleus and Thetis, which is said to be one of the six finest 
 in the world. 
 
 The celebrated Apollo Sauroctonos of Praxiteles, spoken of 
 with rapture by Winckelmann, adorns a hall hung round 
 with tapestries from Flemish designs. But in the Gralleria 
 Nobile is the gem of the collection — the "Antinous" — which 
 I have already named as surpassing in beauty both its rivals. 
 It is distinguished from the latter by a wreath of lotus leaves, 
 and perhaps the freshness and exquisite finish of this leafy 
 crown adds to the grace of the whole. 
 
 The Gallery is itself magnificent. On the ceiling is the 
 Parnassus of Kaphael Mengs, a beautiful fresco. The walls 
 are ornamented with bas-rehefs and mosaics, the latter chiefly 
 from Hadrian's Villa, and exceedingly beautiful. These are 
 a few of the very many objects more or less deserving of 
 notice in this charming Villa. Nor are there wanting de- 
 lightful views from the windows. Looking over a foreground 
 of flowers and fountains, the eye rests upon the city, its domes 
 and towers glittering in the sun, on the one hand ; and on 
 the plain, and distant piu'ple clad mountains, on the other. 
 
THE MISERERE. 
 
 ^JT^T is matter of regret to me that I have been 
 
 unable to keep a record of many of the Cere- 
 fv:^ ^1 monies of the Romish Church, which I have 
 
 had opportunities of witnessing during our 
 '^>^ sojourn in Rome. The general impression 
 '^(sJT^^ |\ left by them on the mind is a very decided one : 
 IX^^tti they realize, as no mere description can, the peril- 
 ^irr^v^^ ous fascination wliich it is their manifest object to 
 vNj ) throw over the enthusiastic, by the dazzling accessaries 
 -C^- of this gorgeous and deluded worship. Now, however, 
 that we have heard the Miserere, I must no longer allow my 
 pen to be silent, but try to secure some memorial of the feel- 
 ings called forth by the most overpowering music I ever 
 listened to. 
 
 Everything connected with the services of the Church, 
 especially during the Holy Week, is managed with such 
 dramatic effect, that I was fully prepared to find here also, 
 that the simple power of the music would be greatly indebted 
 to the solemn and exciting character of the accompaniments 
 of light, scene, and ceremony. But truly it is, above and 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 235 
 
 independently of all such, the most strangely effective and 
 overpowering musical composition I ever listened to. The 
 first time we heard it was in a very commonplace concert 
 room. The following day we listened to it in the Sistine 
 Chapel, amid a suffocating heat and crowd, and -without the 
 possibility of seeing anything more interesting than the back 
 of the Austrian Ambassador's box. But it was enough that I 
 could hear — that I could close my eyes and give up my heart 
 and soul to the spell-like power of that unearthly harmony. 
 The Choir of the Vatican contains some of the finest and 
 most effective voices in the world, and the execution on such 
 occasions is all that thorough training and first-rate science 
 can make it. With the performance then, and the simple 
 music itself, in the Sistine, I was astonished and charmed 
 more than I ever was by sounds before ; especially, perhaps, 
 by the execution of a passage from " the Lamentations," in 
 which the prophet, as the voice of God, makes that touching 
 appeal to Israel, ere yet her day of calamity has overtaken 
 her : " Oh, my people ! what have I done unto thee ? 
 Jerusalem ! return unto the Lord thy God." This passage 
 is performed by a single voice of marvellous expression and 
 clearness ; and though sustained within the range of but 
 two or three notes, yet, with its infinite variety of swells, 
 shakes, and cadences, breathes forth, with the most perfect 
 truth, the passion and spirit of the words. But the impres- 
 sion even of this was partly effaced and overshadowed by 
 what followed. On descending to St. Peter's, we found, to 
 our satisfaction, that we were in time to hear this glorious 
 music repeated in the great Temple itself; and heightened 
 as the scenic effect there was by every concomitant of time, 
 place, light, and arrangement, never while I live shall I 
 forget that hour ! The service being performed was what is 
 
2?>it AET AND NATURE 
 
 called " The Tenebree." A pyramid of lights, to the number 
 of fifteen, is placed behind the altar in the side Chapel of the 
 Virgin, where the service is conducted. At the conclusion of 
 each psalm chanted, one of these is extinguished — sjTnboli- 
 cal, I have been told, of the desertion of the Saviour by his 
 disciples and friends in the hour of his last agony. When 
 this was concluded, none of the lights, save a solitary one 
 over the high altar, remained. The Chapel, with its richly 
 gilded ceiling, fretted arches, and carved projections, sup- 
 porting those white spiritlike figures, in rapt and fervent 
 attitudes of devotion, was now filled and softened with that 
 incensed atmosphere, that soft mysterious twilight, which so 
 excites the imagination, and serves to cast over such scenes a 
 hallowed spell, which the ruder glare of noonday disenchants. 
 There was a brief pause — a breathless silence ; and then 
 broke upon the ear, softly, tremblingly, the first long wild 
 waihng note of the " Miserere V Amid the indistinctness and 
 deepening gloom of all around, it seemed to come — one knew 
 not whence — ^from earth or air ! 'Twas as though the very 
 essence of plaintiveness had been breathed forth from some 
 wounded heart, and were flitting away on viewless wings to 
 seek for rest or sympathy ! It appeared to die in distance, — 
 then rose a fuller swell of several voices, clear, steady, and 
 prolonged ; and while these in their turn, one by one dropped 
 off, the notes were taken up by others, louder, fidler still, as 
 the hymn went on — blending, interchanging, crossing, unit- 
 ing with each other, in all the variety of chords, minors, semi- 
 tones, that the compass and combination of sounds can 
 produce ; and forming the strangest, sweetest medley of ex- 
 pressive harmony that ever human heart conceived ! There 
 were times when the voices seemed to part from each other 
 in a most peculiar manner, producing a kind of soft and 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 237 
 
 melancholy discord ; each note running out on its own sepa- 
 rate key of plaintiveness — as it were each sorrowing spirit 
 carried away and absorbed by its own individual grief : some 
 as though sighing forth the low monotone of a speechless 
 wo — some as though uttering the mingled broken eloquence 
 of a heart disburdening itself in prayer or confession ; — 
 others rising and echoing round the vaulted roof in the long 
 shrill cry of pain and mental anguish ; and then suddenly, as 
 if all had found some common ground of mourning and of 
 sympathy in suffering, they would softly blend and flow into 
 each other, till united in one full rich tide of soothing har- 
 mony, like the calm of a settled but profoundest sorrow. In 
 a word — each depth of feeling, each variety of changing 
 mood, e/ery shade and characteristic of penitential grief, 
 hmnility, self-abasement, seemed there to speak the fulness 
 of the heart, in pathos more intense than any words could 
 utter. And what a medium it must be that can thus give the 
 meaning of that universal language of communion between 
 the humbled sinner and his God — the fifty-first Psalm — of 
 which the " Miserere" principally consists ! It seemed to me, 
 that if ever, since the Monarch Minstrel of Israel swept, with 
 inspired touch, the chords of his hai-p, and breathed forth 
 these holy thoughts before the throne of Jehovah, music has 
 been found fitly adapted to such a prayer, it must be tliis ! 
 The deep abasement of a heart wounded and convicted of 
 sin, — the unjustifying self-condemnation of a contrite spirit 
 before its Judge, — " I acknowledge my transgression, and my 
 sin is ever before me;" — the fear, the felt incapacity for 
 any good, the clear view of Divine Justice driving almost 
 to the dark verge of despair : " Cast me not away from thy 
 presence, take not thy Holy Spirit from me." And then the 
 bright ray of hope and comfort breaking through from the 
 
238 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 
 
 redeeming love of a Father reconciled : " Have mercy upon 
 me, God ; according to the multitude of thy tender mer- 
 cies ! " " A broken and a contrite heart thou wilt not despise." 
 This theme of an infinite love has power at length to bring a 
 balm, and wipe away the tear ; and this varied and wonderful 
 hymn of devotion concludes with one burst of joyful triumph, 
 and confidence restored to the drooping spirit : " Make me to 
 know joy and gladness ; do good in thy good pleasure unto 
 Zion ; build thou the walls of Jerusalem ! " 
 
 It was all deeply, powerfully affecting ; and cold must he 
 be, and unsusceptible indeed, who can listen to this strange 
 and thrilling music without eyes suffused, and a heart that 
 beats quicker in its sympathy ! It was some moments after 
 the last note had died away, ere I could recall my absorbed 
 and spell-bound faculties, and with a sigh, almost of relief, 
 turned and left the spot. 
 
INTERVIEW WITH THE POPE. 
 
 IRCUMSTANCES having interfered with my ac- 
 .s companying our friends the E s when 
 
 ST they had an interview with the Pope, I 
 ^ agreed shortly afterwards to chaperone two 
 
 "^^ young ladies, if we could obtain an audience. 
 
 It was generally thought there was no chance of 
 this, as the ceremonies of the " Holy Week" had 
 commenced, and the aged Pope suffered much 
 '), from fatigue. We were fortunate, however, in posses- 
 sing the good-will of one of the most influential 
 persons at the Vatican, the Abbe H — • — , who not only 
 arranged the desired interview at our request, but himself 
 accompanied us. 
 
 We received orders to wear black dresses, and a hint that 
 a black veil was deemed the most appropriate head-dress. 
 When the carriage stopped at the entrance to the Vatican, 
 we were conducted up the famous staircase called the Scala 
 Eegia, a noble monument of the genius of Bernini. Stopping 
 at the head of the first flight of steps, a door was opened, 
 and we were received by several gentlemen, who ushered us 
 
240 ART AND NATURE 
 
 along a line of Swiss guards in their fantastic garb, into a 
 gallery where are the far-famed cartoons of Raphael. Here 
 we were requested to wait until the Pope was disengaged. 
 In such a place delay could scarcely be tedious, and almost 
 before we had even glanced at several of the pieces of tapestry, 
 we were summoned into the presence of Gregory XVI. He 
 was dressed more like a monk than a sovereign prince, with 
 a close fitting vest of white cashmere or some such material, 
 a crimson badge on one arm, and a kind of loose cloak with 
 a hood which hung at the back. Upon his head was a small 
 skull-cap of crimson velvet ; but, as I said before, nothing to 
 mark the wearer of the triple crown. His face was somewhat 
 full, and with a heavy expression, — more characterized I 
 should say by benevolence than intelligence. He was stand- 
 ing beneath a canopy of crimson velvet, and a carpet of the 
 same material was laid down just where he stood, leaving the 
 rest of the room uncovered. There was no furniture save a 
 chair of state beneath the canopy, in front of which he stood, 
 and a small table with a silver inkstand on it. The walls, 
 however, were ornamented with a few cabinet pictures of 
 great beauty and value. 
 
 We were directed to courtesy three times as we advanced, 
 which we did with all due solemnity. He received us very 
 kindly, and, as it was a private reception, with little of form 
 or ceremony. We were told he rather enjoyed seeing English 
 ladies in this quiet way, especially if they are introduced by 
 any of his personal friends. Our names being repeated, we 
 advanced near him, and he addressed us individually. He 
 never speaks but in Italian, so that it was rather awful, con- 
 sidering my but recent renewal of acquaintance with that 
 language, to be obliged to answer his queries. Fortunately, 
 he took most of the conversation upon liimself He asked 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 241 
 
 me, however, what I thought of Eome, of St. Peter's, and of 
 the Miserere which had been performed the previous day ; 
 questioned me of my home ; how we had performed the 
 journey from England, and such like. I named the railway 
 among other modes of travelling, and was glad I had done 
 so, as it called forth the most characteristic expression of 
 opinion mth which we were favoured. In the most energetic 
 manner, he declared his dislike of railways ; adding, that 
 though he doubted not when he was " sotto terra" railways 
 would speedily be introduced into the Papal States, yet that 
 as long as he lived not one should be pennitted. 
 
 Poor old man ! he little thought how short a span of liis 
 life remained. In less than one month from that date he was 
 no more ! 
 
 As he addressed a few words to my companions, my eye 
 fell on the embroidered slipper on the left foot, which the 
 " faithfid " are privileged to kiss. In a few moments more 
 he made a signal to one of the attendants who stood by, and 
 turning to each of us successivelyj bowed very graciously, and 
 we withdrew, walliing backwards for a few steps. Meanwhile 
 he retired through a door hidden by some tapestry ; and then 
 we were allowed to turn round. 
 
 On leaving the reception-room, we were each presented 
 with a small alabaster rosary, blessed by his hoHness, which I 
 keep as a memento of my interview with him. 
 
 We were told rather an interesting anecdote concerning 
 this Pontifi", which I have good reason to believe true. A 
 lady, more fuU of zeal than discretion, left England and went 
 to Rome, with one fixed object in view, — the conversion 
 of the Pope. She sought and obtained an interview with 
 him, and, by way of overwhelming him at once, put before 
 him the infinite presumption of which he nnist be guilty in 
 
 Q 
 
242 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 
 
 setting himself up as the infallible teacher of Christendom. 
 He listened to her calmly for some time, and then said, " I 
 thank you, madam, for your zeal in my behalf. Believe me, 
 not a day of my life passes that I do not humble myself 
 before my God, feeling and knowing myself to be a sinner, 
 and asking forgiveness. But having said this, allow me to 
 ask you if your own spirit is a right one, and if the mission 
 you have now undertaken shews yourself to be possessed of 
 that true humility, which, as you have well said, must be the 
 foundation of Christianity," It is not ditficult to believe 
 what was added, — that the romantic lady was so melted by 
 the meekness and forbearance of his holiness, that she hereelf 
 became a decided convert to Popeiy ! 
 
ILLUMINATION OF ST. PETER'S. 
 
 HE multitudinous observances of the Holy 
 Week, however gorgeous and imposing to 
 witness, are but little interesting in mere 
 description, and besides are now so familiar 
 '•■ to almost every one, that even their bare 
 enumeration would be tedious. One thing struck 
 me forcibly, as characterizing them all — whether 
 ceremonies, processions, or solemn masses, — and 
 '\\Np;, that was, the perfect manner in which each individual 
 -f ' engaged in them performs his part. However intri- 
 cate, however elaborate that part may be, whether vocal 
 intonations, or corporeal movement, whether in the capacity 
 of principal or subordinate, — nothing awkward, nothing ludi- 
 crous seems ever to occur, so as to mar the impression de- 
 signed to be made. The measured reverential step, the set 
 solemnity of feature, the easy graceful self-possession of the 
 most humble official, are all as perfect in their place and 
 way, as those of the most exalted dignitary. In truth these 
 Itahans seem to possess an intuitive perception of what is 
 dignified, graceful, and appropriate in all sucli enactings of 
 
244' AKT AND NATUEE 
 
 pomp and ceremony, whicTi a whole lifetime of drilling could 
 not instil into our sturdy Englishmen. 
 
 And here I cannot help saying, that in truth the contrast 
 between the two nations, on these occasions, is often most 
 peculiarly and painfully marked. The conduct of the Italians, 
 even of the lower ordere, at such times of public concourse, 
 is almost invariably gentle, good-humoured, and courteous ; 
 while that of too many of our own fellow-countiymen, — even 
 in Italy, where it is to be supposed the higher and better 
 educated alone are to be found, — is frequently as remarkable 
 for overbearing rudeness, and indecent disregard to the feel- 
 ings and habits of the people among whom they are mingling. 
 Above all, during the Easter Week, there is a large propor- 
 tion of the sight-loving Enghsh community in Kome, which 
 appears somewhat to forget that it professes to represent, 
 among these poor Roman Catholics, a more enlightened and 
 Christianized nation. I fancy it must partly result from the 
 over-wrought excitement consequent upon the frantic rush- 
 ing, scrambling, and importuning that takes place on all 
 hands among them, to secure tickets, orders, &c., for admis- 
 sion to the different ceremonies, and most favourable places 
 for seeing them. I shall not soon forget the spectacle I 
 witnessed at the celebration of the Coena, when the Pope in 
 person goes through the form of girding himself, and minis- 
 tering with his own hands to the ver}^ hearty appetite of some 
 twelve or twenty poor pilgrims seated at table. The body of 
 the hall was crowded, principally with Englishmen, as densely 
 wedged together as the strength of hundreds desperately 
 pushing from the outer sides of the human mass could make 
 it. Again and again, during the ceremony, long after the 
 fruitlessness of such attempts became obvious, did those farth- 
 est off continue to struggle towards the object of attraction, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 2'J5 
 
 which fortunately, being raised on a strong platform, was only 
 thus saved from a violence which would speedily have over- 
 borne Pope, supper-table, pilgrims and all. Yells, groans, 
 and fiercest execrations burst incessantly from the swaying 
 and labouring throng ; nor was I surprised to learn that 
 several had not only fainted with terror and exhaustion, but 
 that some had received severe bodily injuries. And these 
 were our countrymen, exhibiting their superior enlightenment 
 and civilisation at a Catholic religious ceremony ! I made 
 my escape in disgust, before the obstreperous multitude 
 rushed forth — probably to repeat the scene in some other 
 place. 
 
 The spectacle which I enjoyed incomparably more than 
 any other during Easter, was that which is reserved for the 
 evening of its close, — the Illumination of St, Peter's, This 
 magnificent exhibition is provided at the expense of Govern- 
 ment on this and one or two other occasions annually, for the 
 gratification of the people. The evening was fortunately 
 calm and delicious. For the purpose of securing a favourable 
 place within the great piazza, we drove down early, and drew 
 up where we had a full view of the fa9ade of the edifice, and 
 the curve of the colonnade on either side. It was already dusk, 
 and the first part of the illumination had commenced. This 
 consists of innumerable lamps, so disposed over every portion 
 of the stupendous building, as to trace out, in lines of pale 
 silvery light, every feature, ornament, and proportion of its 
 beautiful architecture. As the tAvilight disappeared, and the 
 evening advanced, the efiect became more and more fairy- 
 like. To close the eyes for a moment, was to leave the im- 
 pression on the mind, not so much of a reality as of the 
 brilliant vision of a dream ! Or, when steadily gazing at it, 
 I could have fancied that some great clustering constellation, 
 
24() ART AND NATURE 
 
 in unbroken form of beauty, had fallen from heaven to earth. 
 For nearly two hours we continued in the untiring enjoy- 
 ment of the novel scene, amusing ourselves occasionally 
 by conversing with passing acquaintances, or by observing 
 the ecstasies of admiration and dehght in the groups of 
 common people around us. As the clocks in the neigh- 
 bourhood sounded the first stroke of nine, the busy hum 
 of human voices was hushed in one instant into the still- 
 ness of breathless anticipation : and almost ere the second 
 stroke vibrated on the ear, beside each one of those silvery 
 lamps, as by the touch of an unseen magician, leapt up a 
 flame of golden brilliancy ! Along each gallery, cornice, and 
 pediment, around each window, column, and capital, over 
 each dome and cupola, up to the very pinnacle of the gigantic 
 cross that towered into the sombre sky above, ran, with the 
 swiftness of an ignited train of gunpowder, the invisible 
 agent, pencilling in lines of glowing fire, against the dark 
 heavens as a background, the matchless symmetrj^ of the 
 glorious structure ! With a ruddy glare of unearthly light 
 upon them, the tall statues looked down from the lofty 
 colonnade. The great fountains playing in the piazza seemed 
 to catch the fiery influence around, and to shower forth 
 living sparks instead of the wonted drops of crystal ! 
 
 As we drove from the spot, and crossed the bridge into 
 the city, every object, as we passed along, stood out in a 
 strong and steady light. The huge mass of the Castle St. 
 Angelo, the tall gaunt houses along the margin of the river, 
 the countenances of thousands of human beings, clustered 
 together at every point whence the gorgeous spectacle might 
 best be seen, all were as distinct as in the light of noonday. 
 When we had ascended to the highest terrace of the Pincian 
 Hill, which completely overlooks the city, the appearance of 
 
TINDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 24', 
 
 the illumination was, if possible, still more striking. The 
 elevation is sufficient to clear the view of St. Peter's from all 
 that labjnrinth of streets and houses which beset it closely on 
 the pubhc side of approach, while the distance enables the 
 eye to take in fully the proportions of the edifice and its 
 colonnade, which from their vastness can be comprehended, 
 on a nearer view, only in detail. From the point on which 
 we now stood not only was the whole visible, but with a new 
 and most peculiar effect. The distance, together with the 
 dazzling of the countless lights themselves, completely hid 
 the sohd material of the edifice, so that what we now beheld 
 was the skeleton framework of a St. Peter's, elaborately con- 
 structed of those vivid lines of light ! 
 
 Until within the last few years there was, on this annual 
 occasion, an interior illumination of the building. A cross 
 of gigantic proportions w^as suspended from the inside of the 
 great dome, immediately over the high altar, and covered 
 with thousands of brilliant lamps. The gorgeous splendour 
 of the effect thus produced on the gilding and bright coloured 
 mosaics, the strange and fantastic accidents of light and shade 
 among the far-retiring columns, aisles, and arches, together 
 with the imposing pageantry of the Papal procession, moving 
 to and from the high altar, I can in some degree imagine, 
 but was not fortunate enough to witness. 
 
DEPARTURE FROM ROME. 
 
 ' HEN the time drew near whicli had been fixed 
 for our departure, not even the thought that 
 our steps were now to be turned homewards 
 could altogether prevent a feeling of regret. 
 I do not think any one ever more intensely 
 enjoyed Rome than I did. The deep interest of 
 the place itself was greatly enhanced by the 
 society of my dear cousins, upon whose affec- 
 tionate kindness, during those months, I look back 
 with unmingled pleasure. 
 
 The endeared friendship of the R -s also, as well as our 
 
 pleasant intercourse with Lady M and her family, — from 
 
 all these it was sad to sever. 
 
 Our arrangements, however, were completed, and the last 
 evening came : it was spent at the Quattro Fontane ; dear 
 
 S and Mr. R walked part of the way home with us, 
 
 and then farewell was exchanged, and we parted. I may not 
 trust myself to dwell on a parting which has proved our last. 
 That loved one is now in a fairer land than that we have 
 often admired together ! 
 
ART AND NATURP: UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 249 
 
 . . . . Once more the carriage was at the door, and, 
 to our infinite satisfaction, its driver was our good friend Fer- 
 dinando ! Some weeks previously we had met him in the 
 street, and bade him call at Capo le Case, that we might 
 speak with him of our arrangements for the future. He 
 most gladly agreed to take his chance meanwhile, in Kome, of 
 occasional employment, and so to wait in the hope of renewing 
 his engagement with us ; nor were we less pleased than he was. 
 Poor Ferdinando ! a shade passed over his gladsome face when 
 I asked for his young wife and little infant. In the curious 
 mixture of French and Italian he usually employed in address- 
 ing us, he replied, " Ah, Madama, la povera petite e morta — 
 et pour moi — j'aurai bien mieux voulu perdre, sei cavalli !" 
 He seemed to select this as the very strongest, as it certainly 
 was the most professional illustration he could give of the 
 sincerity of his grief ! 
 
 Well, as I was about to say, we once more settled ourselves 
 and our goods in the old places ; each article, ourselves among 
 the number, seeming to find naturally its accustomed corner. 
 The first night was spent at Civita Castellana, in most un- 
 comfortable quarters ; a poor inn at best, and now greatly 
 over-crowded. Ferdinando counselled our starting early next 
 morning, if possible before any of the other numerous travellers 
 were astir, with the view of securing better accommodation 
 at our next night's resting-place. By five o'clock then we 
 were off; and very successfully did we keep for a while our 
 first start, the horses being fresh, and we ha\dng little lug- 
 gage compared with many of our competitors on the road. 
 Right merrily were we rattling down a long hill, when lo ! in 
 far less time than I can write the words, a collision — a crash 
 — a tremendous jerk, and we were prostrate in a ditch at the 
 side of the road ! Not the slightest warning had we of what 
 
250 ART AND NATURE 
 
 was coming, nor clid I distinctly compreliend what hod come, 
 till I found my feet protruding through a side window of the 
 
 carriage, and planted in the mud ! W , who had heen 
 
 at the side noAv uppermost, contrived to keep himself from 
 falling on me. One instant sufficed to ascertain that neither 
 of us was hurt, the next to bethink ourselves of investigating 
 
 our actual position. W scrambled out, and by and bye 
 
 managed to extract me also ; and then, what a scene of con- 
 fusion we looked on ! Ferdinando, striking his forehead with 
 his hand, now frantically calling upon a whole calendar of 
 saints to help him, and again beseeching us to tell him that 
 we were safe and uninjured, but perfectly bewildered, and 
 
 unable to tell what he should do first. W advised his 
 
 catching the horses, which at some distance, with the two 
 front wheels and pole attached to them, were amusing them- 
 selves with kicking each other, and trying to get free. 
 Boxes, trunks, carpet-bags, cusliions, books, &c., &c. — all, 
 and it seemed far more than all the carriage had contained, 
 — the arrangement of which I had prided myself upon — lay 
 strewed in dire disorder upon the ground. Add to this, frag- 
 ments of broken glass, splinters of wood, and other evidences 
 of destruction, and we certainly beheld a scene of apparently 
 as hopeless and helpless misfortune as, apart from serious 
 personal injury, could well be conceived ! The rain, too, be- 
 gan to fall, and we had not an idea where we were, or in what 
 direction assistance should be sought. There was to be seen 
 the luckless cause of our disaster — a huge waggon dragged by 
 a team of stubborn mules, which had absolutely refused to 
 turn out of the way, in spite of the somewhat tardy endeavours 
 of their drivers. The first result of their unaccommodating ob- 
 stinacy was, that our wheels were caught by the clumsy project- 
 ing axles of the waggon, and the second, what I have described. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 251 
 
 Ferdinando was out of sight in pursuit of the horses, the 
 mule-drivers followed him, and we were left in company with 
 the long-eared delinquents, now quietly feeding by the road 
 side. 
 
 Having collected as we best might the smaller articles, 
 
 W made a seat of cloaks and cushions for me, and there 
 
 I sat in a disconsolate enough plight, truly ! At length the 
 welcome sound of approaching wheels was to be heard — alas 
 for disappointed hopes ! — the vehicle, which shortly made its 
 appearance, was full ; and, it is to be presumed, the inmates 
 were unwilhng to excite hopes they could not fulfil, for they 
 passed by on the other side. Another few minutes elapsed, 
 and again we eagerly watched the issue of a new approach — 
 a lumbering, heavily-laden machine drew near, and on seeing 
 the debris scattered around, the occupants thereof shouted to 
 an apparently hard-hearted driver to stop, which he was at 
 length reluctantly compelled to do, and two very gentlemanlike 
 foreigners jumping out, came forward, followed by a motherly- 
 looking English woman, whose homely voice was as music to 
 my ears. Each most kindly proffered their services, earnestly 
 desiring to know what they could do to help us. I thank- 
 fidly accepted the place in the carriage offered me by one of 
 the gentlemen, who himself walked forward to Narni, which, 
 as we learnt, was only three miles off, and was to have been 
 
 the mid-day resting-place. W remained to look after 
 
 the wreck of our property, and having pressed the mule- 
 drivers into the service on their return with Ferdinando, got 
 the brolcen carriage fastened to the waggon, and tlie trunks 
 piled upon it ; and thus, in mournful procession, moved on 
 
 to Narni. As he wallved, W had leisure to observe a 
 
 fresh cause for than]<;fulness in our merciful preservation. 
 A few hundred yards further on, a steep rocky precipice, 
 
252 AllT AND NATUKE 
 
 unfenced by bank or parapet of any kind, sunk abruptly from 
 the side of the road ; and had the accident happened there, it 
 appeared inevitable that we should have been thrown over it. 
 
 The news of our disaster preceded us, and many friendly 
 oiFers of conveying us on to Terni were made by those 
 assembled in the public room of the inn at Narni. But 
 ascertaining from Ferdinando that the chief damage could be 
 repaired in twenty-four hours, and finding the rooms very 
 clean and tolerably comfortable, we resolved to remain where 
 we were. A quiet afternoon, and a ramble amid the singu- 
 larly picturesque ravines and rocky dells which surround this 
 romantic little town, repaid us well for the unlooked-for 
 detention. 
 
 The remains of the magnificent bridge of Augustus is the 
 chief attraction of Narni : it is noble even in ruin. One of 
 the arches is still entire, and is composed of rough blocks of 
 white marble, without cement. This bridge joined the lofty 
 hills above the river, and was the passage of the Flaminian 
 Way. 
 
 The carriage was made fit for use sooner than we had at 
 all anticipated ; yet not early enough to allow of our depar- 
 ture till the second morning, as we were unwilhng to arrive 
 at Terni late in the day. The whole road thither is exceed- 
 ingly beautiful, and the weather was delicious. Very fortu- 
 nate have we been in our wanderings with respect to the 
 season of the year. Our first journey through Italy was in 
 the veiy midst of the vintage — the full ripe fruit hanging on 
 every side in clustering profusion, and the mellow tints of 
 autumn giving a richer beauty to every light and shade in 
 the glowing landscape. And now we beheld the fair land in 
 the spring-time of her loveliness, with a mantle of softest 
 green ahke on wood and meadow, wliile every tree and flower 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 253 
 
 seemed waking into joyous existence. And singularly Sweet 
 and lovely is that fresh young verdure, while it lasts, in a 
 climate where the burning rays of the sun so soon cause it to 
 fade and wither. 
 
 Amid scenes so fresh and fair, the few hours of that morn- 
 ing's journey fled swiftly and pleasantly by. Arrived at 
 Terni, where we found a tolerably comfortable inn, we made 
 arrangements for remaining over night, and, having hired 
 a light open carriage, set off, in the agreeable anticipation 
 of spending an afternoon at the " Cadute delle Marmore," 
 better known as the Falls of Terni, 
 
 These falls are about five miles distant from the town ; the 
 road leading to them passes through the Valley of the Nar, 
 and for nearly three miles is one continued ascent. 
 
 At Papigno, a small mountain hamlet, the road divides ; 
 one branch ascending the hill for about a mile and a half, to 
 within a short distance of the place from whence the Velnio 
 dashes over the rocky precipice ; the other leading to the 
 bottom of the fall. We adopted the plan most recommended, 
 and chose the upper road first. 
 
 Alighting from the carriage at the top of the long ascent, 
 we followed a little narrojv pathway leading to the wooded 
 bank, where first the river comes in sight ; for until the 
 moment of reaching this spot, though the roar of waters has 
 long since fallen on the ear, nothing of the stream itself has 
 yet been visible. Deep, still, and smooth, as if husbanding 
 its energies for the coming crisis, flows on the rapid current ! 
 There is something of resistless determination in that noise- 
 less, arrowy sweep, with which those hurrying waters are 
 speeding on to the verge of their tremendous leap — something 
 which enhances the effect of the wild uproar in which they 
 next appear. 
 
254 ART AND NATURE 
 
 A small wooden building, erected (so says tlie guide-book) 
 by the orders of Napoleon, stands on a projecting piece of 
 rock, opposite the middle of the upper fall, and from the 
 open side of this is by far the most ini})ressive view of it. 
 The broad transparent sheet, yet unbroken in its fall, rushes 
 down close before you, and, looking into the abyss, which the 
 jutting rock you stand upon literally overhangs, you see it 
 disappearing in a vast cloud of white vapour, which heaves 
 and rolls majestically around it. 
 
 I know not that anything in Nature carries with it such a 
 sublime impress of resistless power as the sight and sound of 
 a mighty mass of falling Avater — together with the conscious- 
 ness that it has been thus dashing, sounding, ever, ever 
 downwards, for long centuries, and will so continue, when 
 generations yet unborn shall gaze upon its boiling eddies 
 even as we did ! 
 
 " The voice of many waters ! " There is subhmity in the 
 idea ; — and almost unconsciously, amid that scene, the words 
 of the Psalmist suggested themselves, in which he seems to 
 look around for what is mightiest — for what is grandest in 
 nature, whereby to illustrate the glory and strength of 
 Almighty power ! " The voice of the Lord is upon the 
 waters ; the God of glory thundereth. The Lord on high is 
 mightier than the noise of many waters." 
 
 I know not how long we stood there : but long enough to 
 exhaust the patience of a most garrulous personage, calling 
 himself the custode of the place. The annoyance caused by 
 the buzzing of these tiresome custodes, and by the innumer- 
 able beggars who lie in wait at every turn, and beset you on 
 every hand, is really intolerable. And yet it is even more 
 mournful than it is provoking, when the mind has been filled 
 with the contemplation of what is great or beautiful, to have 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 to turn again and witness such wretched objects of human 
 degradation and misery as, at these very spots, so often press 
 upon you ! I fear, however, that it was more from a 
 longing desire to be quit of them, than from any charitable 
 feeling, that we gave them the hajocclii which they craved. 
 
 Having descended the precipitous path at the side of the 
 cataract, and seen it en regie from the various points of 
 observation, we crossed the stream a little way down, and 
 proceeded to climb a rocky eminence on the opposite side of 
 the valley, where, from another little bower erected upon a 
 terrace, we enjoyed a view which included the whole of 
 the fall, and of the wooded ravine into which it dashes. 
 Here we found guides and donkeys awaiting us, and having 
 mounted, had a pleasant ride down the banks of the stream, 
 through tangled groves of ilex and brushwood. My donkey 
 was led by a pretty Italian peasant, who soon discovered my 
 desire to possess some flowers which I had not yet met with, 
 as w^ell as specimens of the beautiful petrifactions which are 
 themselves almost like flowers. Most zealously did she fill 
 her apron with both, and, as it appeared to me, quite as much 
 from the wish to oblige, as to obtain rather more hajocclii than 
 would otherwise have fallen to her share. 
 
 It was late in the evening ere we reached the village where 
 the carriage was waiting to take us back to Terni ; and so 
 ended an excursion which more than realized our long cher- 
 ished expectation. 
 
 The next day's journey took us up the steep ascent of 
 Monte Somma, which rises, at the highest pass, nearly four 
 thousand feet above the level of the sea. The scenery becomes 
 wild and stern in its character on leaving the fertile plains of 
 Terni ; but the descent again towai'ds the picturesque town 
 of Spoleto, with its fine old fortress and vast aqueduct, is 
 
256 ART AND NATURE 
 
 rich and beautiful. We were glad to reach Spoleto early, 
 and to spend three or four hours there. The Aqueduct delle 
 Torre consists of a range of ten noble arches, and now serves 
 as a bridge across the deep ravine which it spans. This 
 ancient city was the " Spoletum " of the Eomans, and with- 
 stood, according to Livy, the attack of Hannibal, after the 
 battle of Thrasymene. By the soft and glowing light of a 
 sweet evening, we stopped to visit the little temple which 
 stands near the Clitumnus ; a stream to which the beautiful 
 allusion in Childe Harold has given an interest greater per- 
 haps than even classic lore has imparted. I know not when 
 I have felt more refreshed, after a hot and fatiguing day, than 
 by a draught of 
 
 ■' The sweetest wave 
 Of the most hving crystal that was e'er 
 The haunt of river iiyiiipli." 
 
 We could spare very little time to visit the Picture Galleries 
 at Perugia, though, but for our detention at Narni, we had 
 proposed to spend at least a day there. Perugia is the centre 
 of a school of painting deservedly famed, and known as the 
 Umbrian school. Its great master was Perugino, so called 
 from the city of his adoption. He was the master of Kaphael, 
 and much of his soft colouring and spiritual expression may 
 be traced, especially in the earlier and perhaps purer works of 
 his gifted pupil. 
 
 In the Cathedral of San Lorenzo is the masterpiece of 
 Baroccio, which, for many years, found a place amid the 
 treasures of the Vatican. But the pictures which most 
 pleased me here were — two by Perugino, the " Nativity," and 
 the " Baptism of Christ ; " a series of six pictures framed 
 together in one, by Pinturricchio ; a most exquisite Madonna 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 257 
 
 and Child, with two attendant angels, — one of Raphael's 
 earliest works, — known as the Madonna Staifa. The last 
 named is a small round picture, in which the Virgin is repre- 
 sented as reading, so that the eyes are cast down, rendering 
 the serious and interested expression of the countenance per- 
 haps j^et more striking. The Child also is looking upon the 
 book. It is a very lovely little picture, and differs from 
 almost every other of the kind I have met with. 
 
 Just as the carriage was ready, I hastily ran to look at the 
 Arco della Via Vecchia, also called the Arch of Augustus, 
 though its construction and style leave no doubt that it is 
 Etruscan, and consequently of far earlier date than the 
 Roman inscription it bears woidd lead one to suppose. 
 
 Leaving Perugia, a long and steep hill requires additional 
 horses, and is very tedious. From its summit, however, a 
 view is to be seen which well repays the wearisome ascent. 
 There lies the Lake of Thrasymene, recalling, by its name, 
 the memorable battle fought on its banks, and rendered yet 
 more interesting because not a doubt can be entertained as to 
 this being the real field of battle. There are the woody 
 hillocks amid which Hannibal concealed his horse-soldiers, 
 and to the left the remains of an old tower, called to this day 
 by the people around, " The Tower of Hannibal the Cartha- 
 ginian." When the valley is reached, the Gualandro hills 
 enclose one completely, leaving no other outlet than that 
 by the little town of Passignano, near which was placed the 
 mounted ambuscade, so well concealed, that the Roman 
 general, when he took up his position in the little plain, 
 suspected no danger, and was wholly unconscious that he was 
 fast locked in the very midst of a hostile army. With thril- 
 ling interest does one take in each of these details, and while 
 standing upon the banks of the little rivulet aptly called the 
 
258 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 " Sanguinetto," where, it is supposed, was the chief scene of 
 slaughter, I confess it was not the glory of conquest, the 
 laurels of the conqueror, that excited my sympathy ! It was 
 the wail of the dying thousands, the cry of shame and despair 
 from those once invincible legions, hopelessly panic-stricken 
 and entangled by Carthaginian wiles, which seemed to fill 
 the air ! Yes ! it was with the conquered Koman, not with 
 the subtle invader, my thoughts most dwelt. 
 
 I gathered some ivy that had ftistened its tenacious clasp 
 around the rough stones of a little bridge over the " stream 
 of blood," and bore it off as a trophy from the field. 
 
 At Arezzo, we remembered to look for the house in the 
 " Sobborgo del Orto," in which Petrarch was born in 1504 ; 
 but were unable to visit anytlung else. With all the haste 
 we made, it was late in the evening of Saturday ere we 
 descended into the beautiful Val d'Arno, and entered fair 
 Florence. The " Quattro Nazioni " was highly recommended 
 to us as a quiet, comfortable hotel, well situated, and not 
 extravagant in charges. We went there accordingly for that 
 night and the next day, resolving to take lodgings on Mon- 
 day, for the few days' sojourn we puqiosed making. 
 
FLORENCE. 
 
 a") HE pleasure of our stay in Florence was 
 |rs|r^ greatly increased by finding that according 
 
 N> 
 
 to a plan of reunion, proposed at Naples, Sir 
 
 J , with his family, had arrived a 
 
 ,, ,v^. / few days previously. The C s also were 
 
 'hi^LM I 1 ^^^^®j ^^^ ^^^^ taken up their quarters at the 
 V^^^Or " Gran' Bretagna." 
 
 /.^(T^ "'-''^ On Sunday we heard two excellent sermons in 
 
 Vv- the Protestant Church, from the resident clergyman. 
 
 ^^'^/ After evening service, we walked home with my 
 
 cousins, and settled with Sir J to go with him and his 
 
 party, the following day, to the Pitti Palace, and the other 
 Galleries, 
 
 The first thing we did on Monday morning was to set out 
 in quest of lodgings, and soon found rooms to suit us under 
 the roof of a young couple lately married. Their house was 
 newly furnished, and delicately clean : they were themselves 
 most obliging and attentive, and we, in consequence, very 
 comfortable. This matter arranged, we were ready to enjoy 
 Florence and its many attractions. 
 
■260 
 
 ART AND NATURE 
 
 80 completely was each day spent in seeing Galleries, 
 Gardens, Churclies, and Museums, I scarcely had time to 
 make the scantiest notes of what I saw. Even in my own 
 mind, with a few exceptions, the effect of that week of sight- 
 seeing resembled the brilliant medley of the kaleidoscope, 
 more than anything else ; and I found, in attempting to 
 overtake too much, how greatly the enjoyment of all is 
 diminished. In this bright though ill-arranged confusion, 
 however, a few individual objects stand out clear and defined, 
 and these alone I must be content to notice. 
 
 Passing the Vestibules of the Galeria Imperiale, in the 
 first of which are busts of the Medici family, and in the 
 second the well-known Florentine " Boar," the corridors are 
 reached. These are hung round with a collection of the works 
 of the old masters of the Tuscan school ; and contain also what 
 interested me much, the busts of the Koman emperors, in an 
 unbroken series, from CfBsar to Constantine. Here and there 
 I found myself mistaken in assigning names to them, but 
 generally it is not difficult, from the busts and medallions 
 one has elsewhere seen, to recognise the characteristics of the 
 different countenances. Of Nero, there is one as a child, 
 Avith a soft, loving expression, and refined and delicate fea- 
 tures. Opposite, is one of the man — cold, hard, and sinister : 
 cruelty and selfishness are written in legible characters on 
 those lineaments. I wondered, as I looked first on one and 
 then on the other, if ever he himself had seen that tender 
 infantine face. Surely it might have awakened better feel- 
 ings even in his dark bosom ! 
 
 I stopped for a moment before the Bacchus and Faun of 
 Michael Angelo, more, however, because of a story I remem- 
 bered reading respecting it, than from particular interest in 
 the work itself ; but, in truth, I was all impatience to reach 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 2G1 
 
 the " Hall of Niobe," as it is called, from containing the 
 group of Niobe and her children. 
 
 This is almost the only one of the famous productions of 
 the chisel with which I was at first sight disappointed. I 
 felt at once the fatal mistake which has been committed in 
 dividing the group, and thus totally destroying its relative 
 power and interest. Tlie several attitudes of the members 
 of the famUy are almost unmeaning as they now stand round 
 the room, whereas, grouped together, as doubtless the artist 
 intended them, each would have its part in the combined 
 effect. But independently of this, there seemed to me a want 
 of grace in many of the female figures, and too great an ex- 
 travagance of attitude in the sons. 
 
 This was my first impression on entering the room, but 
 very soon all idea of criticism was banished from my mind, 
 as I drew near and beheld the majesty of wo — the self-for- 
 getting intensity of that mother's anguish, in Niobe herself 
 I could scarce resist the idea, that this grief-stricken form, 
 half-bending, as though to shield her youngest treasure, and 
 with that despairing look of agony mingled with passionate 
 entreaty, as though even yet she would sue for pity, wei"e, 
 in very deed, the bereaved mother — here, on this spot, and 
 before my very eyes, thus turned into stone ! The child's 
 terror is mingled with a touching sense of protection in those 
 arms, as if he felt that death itself could never reach 
 him there ! 
 
 In the Tribune, as in a central shrine, stands the presiding 
 deity of the place — the matchless Venus di Medici. I wonder 
 how many pages have been written upon this statue ! If I 
 never felt it before, assuredly I feel now, how little language 
 is able to transmit to the mind of another the impressions 
 which the eye has conveyed to one's own. And surely, in this 
 
202 ART AND NATURE 
 
 instance, if copies in tlie same material have failed to repro- 
 duce that inexpressible charm which distinguishes the original, 
 we need not marvel that a mere repetition of words, such as 
 " lovely," " exquisite," " divine," should utterly fail. 
 
 True, there is grace in every limb, and spiritual beauty 
 in eveiy lineament ; purity and intellect, like a halo of 
 light, irradiate her countenance ; and I could almost fancy 
 her the Eve whom Milton has described, when she was 
 brought to Adam, as a hel23-meet for him " who was created 
 in the image of God." But having said all this or even more, 
 I still feel inclined to add, let those who would appreciate 
 this beautiful creation see it for themselves. 
 
 The Wrestlers or Lottatori, and the Arrotino, (the latter 
 said by some to be the slave who discovered the conspiracy of 
 the sons of Brutus,) are each wonderful specimens of the fide- 
 lity with which Nature can be imitated by Art ; but they are 
 of a class which, neither in sculpture nor in painting, possess 
 any interest for me. I soon turned, therefore, to the choice 
 paintings which adorn the crimson-coloured drapery of this 
 little sanctuary. The first I particularly noticed was a "Holy 
 Family," comprising one of Kaphael's lovely Madonnas, 
 called " del Cardellino," beaming with tender admiration, as 
 she contemplates the holy Child, who is represented caress- 
 ing the infant John Baptist. A landscape background is 
 introduced, contrary to the usual composition of these pictures, 
 and a wreath of flowers encircles the whole. Next to this is 
 a picture I have greatly desired to see — "The Foniarina." 
 The same name is given to several in Eome and elsewhere, 
 and I wished particidarly to compare it with that in the 
 Berberini Palace. She is a glorious creature certainly, yet 
 not one of Kaphael's exalted conceptions of beauty. The 
 style of face and colouring is more like Titian than Kaphael, 
 
UNDEE AN ITALIAN SKY. 2()3 
 
 and conveys the impression of being a portrait ratlier than 
 the realization of an ideal of lovehness, which so often, I 
 think, strikes one in the female figures of the latter. But in 
 the minute and exquisite finish of every part, the hand of 
 Raphael is evident. The superb ornaments with which she 
 is adorned are introduced with marvellous taste, conveying 
 the same kind of effect, amid the rich dark hair and costly 
 di'ess she wears, as the reality might have done, so subdued 
 is their tone, even while golden gleams of light shine upon 
 them. 
 
 After going through that most interesting Gallery, where 
 are the portraits of all those painters whose genius has left 
 such a precious legacy of enjoyment and delight to succeeding 
 ages, we went next to the Pitti Palace, — at once stationing 
 ourselves before the " Madonna Seggiola." 
 
 What is it that makes this so superior to almost all other 
 representations of the Virgin ? The beauty of feature here is 
 not greater than in many others, and there are no accessories 
 introduced to heighten the effect, — no legend or tradition 
 attached to the scene to carry away the imagination. I can 
 only suppose it is the magic sweetness of expression, and perfect 
 harmony of the colouring. It is a painting which — almost 
 more than any other — must be seen to be fully appreciated. 
 There are many copies of it that may fairly be considered 
 very good pictures, and yet they are devoid of the especial 
 charm I have spoken of, but cannot describe. The true 
 child-like loveliness of the infant Jesus is also remarkable 
 here ; even with that look of earnest thoughtfidness in the 
 eyes, there is blended the sweet simplicity of childhood, 
 especially in the rosy mouth and dimpled chin. 
 
 It is interesting to know anything connected with the 
 origin of such a picture as this, and I beheve the following 
 
204 AKT AND NATUKE 
 
 incident actually took place : Raphael was passing through 
 the streets of a small town, when his artist eye was arrested 
 by a group in the doorway of a lowly cottage. A young 
 peasant woman was sitting on the step, holding one rosy 
 child in her arms, while a second clung to her knee, and 
 looked up into her face. He was struck wdth the unconscious 
 grace and beauty of the group, and fearing to lose the im- 
 pression, took out his implements to sketch it. Having no- 
 thing else at hand on which to spread his paper, the top of 
 an old ban'el which stood by, was forthwith made to answer 
 his purpose, and the circular form of that extempore drawing- 
 table has the merit, or the fault, as it has been variously esti- 
 mated, of giving the same to the painting. 
 
 The Duomo in Florence is a grand, as well as a singular 
 edifice. The original design would appear to have been 
 Tedescan, modified by a style which seems to have found 
 favour with architects of that period, borrowed, as the learned 
 suppose, from Egypt and Syria. But it was the fate of this 
 Cathedral to fall into the hands of many builders in suc- 
 cession, so that it is difficult to say to what style of architec- 
 ture it really belongs. Yet the general efiect is solemn and 
 imposing. The interior almost takes one by surprise — so 
 vast, so dark, so shadowy is it. But scarce have you time to 
 feel the solemnizing effect, ere the rich hues of the painted 
 windows cast such gleams of radiance among the pillars and 
 arches, that you can hardly deem it an edifice made by hands, 
 but rather one of Nature's temples, in the deep green shade 
 of some primeval forest, with the gold and crimson tints of a 
 setting summer's sun streaming in broken and divided rays 
 through the foliage. The one single effect was so pleasing, I 
 absolutely refused to look at pictures, ornaments, or any 
 work of art it contained. 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 2G5 
 
 The Campanile of Giotto is a fairy structure — simple in 
 design, yet richly ornamented. It has been truly said to be 
 the work of a painter as well as an architect. 
 
 The Baptistery is remarkable for three gates of bronze of 
 elaborate beauty, on which Michael Angelo bestowed the 
 most extravagant praise. One was executed by Andrea 
 Pisano, the other two by Ghiberti. The 'finest, I think, is 
 ■the eastern — representing various striking events in Old Tes- 
 tament history. When the light falls on them in a parti- 
 cidar way, no chiaro scuro drawing could be finer, so perfect 
 is the perspective, and the way in which the foreground is 
 made to project ; nor is the fidelity to the subject, observ^ed 
 throughout, less worthy of- admiration. 
 
VISIT TO FIESOLE. 
 
 
 NE luvely day we accompanied the C a to 
 
 Fiesole. The drive is a delightful and varied 
 one, now passing amid villas and grassy 
 slopes, witli luxuriant creepers overhanging 
 the walls, — now winding up the steep ascent 
 between high banks covered with low brushwood. 
 Wild rose, honeysuckle, and a beautiful kind of 
 clematis, perfumed the air, and called forth inces- 
 -J20y sant exclamations of delight. Among the many car- 
 .' "7 riages, passing and repassing continually, we noticed a 
 light English-built chariot, in which sat two persons ; one, 
 an old and feeble man, supported by the arm of his com- 
 panion. He was on the side nearest W , who exclaimed, 
 
 " What a look of Napoleon that old man has ! " In return- 
 ing we encountered the same chariot again, and being all 
 struck with the likeness, inquired of the man who di'ove us 
 who the old gentleman was ; he replied, with a look of sur- 
 prise at our ignorance, that it was Lucien Bonaparte, the 
 brother of the Emperor, 
 
 On reaching the height whereon the ancient Etruscan city 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 207 
 
 of Fiesole stood, we left the caniage and walked to see a 
 very perfect specimen of the Cyclopean Wall, which still 
 runs for a considerable way in an unbroken line along the 
 northern ridge. The stones of which it is composed are of 
 enormous size, unhewn and shapeless, yet conveying an idea 
 of massive strength, combined with rude magnificence which, 
 in contrast, causes the masonry of modern times to appear 
 puny and insignificant. This portion of the ancient defences 
 of the city is scarcely at all injured, either by time or by the 
 hand of man; — and after having seen the dwellings and 
 monuments of successive centuries rise and crumble around 
 it. still stands to this day, the unfading memorial of a 
 primeval age. 
 
 Upon the supposed site of the fortress, or Acropolis of the 
 old city, now stands what is in itself a venerable relic of anti- 
 quity — the Church of St. Alexander, built by Theodoric the 
 Ostrogoth, A.D. 526. 
 
 It is from these heights of Fiesole that one of the finest 
 views of the Val d'Arno, and of the city sheltered in its 
 bosom, is to be seen. Suqoassingly fair indeed, is " Firenze 
 la Bella" from this spot. The swelling, undulating line of 
 her guardian hills — the gentle curves and windings of the 
 silvery Arno, with its many arched bridges — the domes and 
 towers of the city rising amid gardens and lofty trees, together 
 filling up the centre of the fertile plain, are elements of a 
 scene of gay and smiling attractiveness, which is alike pleas- 
 ing to the eye and gladdening to the heart ! 
 
 I admire the dress of the Florentine peasants, especially 
 the wide brimmed Leghorn hats, by which name we know 
 them best. They have evidently, too, an innate love of 
 flowers which I like to see. I often noticed a freshly 
 gathered wreath of bright wild flowers gi'acefuUy twined 
 
268 AllT AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 round these most picturesque hats ; nor must I forget the 
 pretty flower girl, with whom I made acquaintance near the 
 Cascine, who presented me almost daily with a tastefully 
 arranged bouquet, till my room was scented by the sweet 
 violets which always formed the centre of the fragrant nose- 
 gay. It is a pretty picturesque custom this, though it may 
 not in reality be so disinterested as it at first appears. 
 
LEAVING FLORENCE. 
 
 'E were really sorry when our sojourn in this 
 gay and pleasant city came to a close. Our 
 nice young landlady was full of regret at our 
 departure, and wished us many a " buon' 
 viaggio." The Tuscan dialect, of the lower 
 rders at least, is very peculiar, especially in the 
 use of the h for the c, wherever the latter ought to 
 be sounded hard. When I heard the peasants, on 
 y first entering Tuscany, offering " un liavallo" to Ferdi- 
 ) nando, I was puzzled to comprehend what they meant. 
 Their voices, too, are harsher, and far less pleasing than the 
 Roman. " Lingua Toscano in bocca Romano," is the com- 
 mon sapng ; and in the implied superiority of the latter, at 
 all events, I cordially acquiesce. 
 
 On Monday, May 8th, we were early on the road, slowly 
 winding up an ascent on the side opposite to that we had 
 climbed in going to Fiesole, but commanding the same sin- 
 gularly rich and varied view. The rays of the morning sun 
 glittered on the roofs and domes of the city, through the 
 misty veil which still hung about the banks of the river. 
 
270 ART AND NATURE 
 
 Our mid-day resting-place was at a solitary post-house by 
 the roadside, and on the outskirts of a hanging wood. Hav- 
 ing brought a basket of provisions with us, we determined to 
 exchange the close dirty room of the little inn for the shade 
 of some noble oaks which towered amid the trees of the 
 wood. Choosing one where the rugged roots provided us 
 with seats, and the short turf with a table, we spread out the 
 contents of the basket ; and while discussing, in this primi- 
 tive fashion, our al fresco meal, enjoyed, through openings in 
 the wood, views of rich and fertile vales on either side. I 
 took a sketch of one of these views, with the oak-tree clump 
 as foreground. 
 
 Leaving the cultivated valley behind, we now entered on 
 the dark and dreary ridges of the Apennines. The scene is 
 wild and desolate, with none of the sublime grandeur of the 
 Alps, yet not without a kind of savage picturesqueness of its 
 own. For miles and miles the road proved a succession of 
 up hill and down hill ; yet step by step ascending to higher 
 regions, the face of the country becoming more and more 
 barren, and the air sensibly more keen. During several hours 
 we seemed to have the solitary road all to ourselves ; but as 
 we drew nearer to the night's quarters, we perceived, con- 
 siderably in advance, dark moving specks, which proved to 
 be travelling carriages. 
 
 Our ever-accommodating Ferdinando had agreed to push 
 on past Covigliajo, the usual day's journey from Florence, 
 not only because it was more likely to be crowded, but in 
 order to reach Pietra Mala, where there is a natural pheno- 
 menon which we were anxious to visit. 
 
 The evening being fine on our arrival, we at once deter- 
 mined to set off in search of this, having secured the services of 
 a boy to guide us. It was well we had done so, for the path 
 
UNDEll AN ITALIAN SKY. 21 i 
 
 was not only rugged and difficult, but by no means easy to 
 distinguish. The distance from the village was much greater 
 than we anticipated, so that it was getting quite dusk when 
 we first came in sight of the " Fuoco di legno." It is a 
 small circular spot of ground, covered with loose stones, and 
 not more than ten or twelve feet across. From the surface 
 of this shoot up numberless little tongues of lambent flame, 
 in colour and motion like blazing alcohol. It is a most 
 singular spectacle ; and though there is nothing of the grand 
 and terrible, yet there is much of the mysterious, and almost 
 of the supernatural, in the appearance of this fiery spot on 
 the dark mountain's side. To the uninstructed eye, there 
 seems no reason why those flickering flames should burn on 
 continually in one spot — no reason why they should stop 
 there. Doubtless the scientific would give ready reasons for 
 both, and tell us of gases exuding from decayed vegetable 
 matter here imbedded ; but on me the impression was much 
 more imaginative, as we stood in the gloamin on that barren 
 hillside, watching the elfish flames as they danced within the 
 charmed circle ! It was dark and eerie as we retraced our 
 steps towards the inn of Pietra Mala, where, probably, we 
 obtained better accommodation than we should have found 
 in the more crowded Covigliajo. 
 
 Our road next morning still lay over a wild waste of 
 mountains, with little variety, till we came to Filigare, where 
 is the boundary of the Tuscan territory. The Dogana is a 
 fine building, — far too good for its purpose, was my inward 
 cogitation, — notwithstanding that on this occasion we met 
 with all courtesy and civility from the officers. 
 
 The scenery now becomes more interesting, with occa- 
 sional deep and wooded ravines, or rather valleys, as they are 
 better termed. From Lojano to Pianoro, the descent is very 
 
272 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 abrupt, requiring additional drags upon the wheels. The 
 views here, from various points of the road, are exceedingly 
 striking. Stretching far as the eye can reach, is a chain 
 of distant snow-capped Alps — the Adriatic, like a streak of 
 light, is visible on the horizon ; while spread out below are 
 the wide and fertile plains, with an occasional gleam from 
 the winding Savenna. On this river stands the ancient city 
 of Bologna, the capital of the most populous and flourisliing 
 of the states of the Church, 
 
 On entering its wide and handsome streets, the first pecu- 
 liarity the stranger observes is the covered archway on each 
 side, giving not only character to its streets, but aifording a 
 most grateful shade from the heat of the sun, and doubtless 
 also protection from the storms of winter. At the same time 
 one would suppose they must darken the shops and lower 
 parts of the houses very dismally, especially in the old part 
 of the city where the colonnades are low and heavy. 
 
 We drove through two or three of the principal streets 
 to the " Grande Albergo," a comfortable hotel, and more 
 conveniently placed than the others as regards the public 
 galleries. 
 
 Thanks to the arrangement of our previous night's quar- 
 ters at Pietra Mala, we were enabled to arrive soon after 
 eleven o'clock in the morning, thus securing a long day. 
 
BOLOGNA. 
 
 \ HE Bolognese School of Painting is one of the 
 most celebrated, and boasts a constellation 
 of the brightest genius. Passing over its 
 earlier epochs, the period of its greatest 
 ''' glory began with the Caracci, in the six- 
 teenth century, who introduced an entirely new 
 style of painting, and were remarkable for the 
 illustrious pupils they produced. Of these, the 
 
 ^,-, first and greatest was Domenichino, who has been 
 
 ,".' called the second painter in the world — second only 
 
 to Kaphael. Scarcely inferior to him is Guido, who must 
 
 be seen in Bologna to be thoroughly appreciated ; and Guer- 
 
 cino, the pupil of Guido, who also belongs to this school. 
 
 As soon as we possibly could, our steps were directed to 
 the Accademia delle Belle Arte : it is a noble collection, ad- 
 mirably arranged, consisting chiefly of the native school. 
 The works of the various artists are placed in a great measure 
 chronologically. 
 
 Here is almost a single instance in which I could look at a 
 painting, where the subject is physical suifering, without dis- 
 
274 
 
 AltT AND NATUKE 
 
 -^ 
 
 gust — the " Martyrdom of St. Agnes," by Domenicliino. It 
 is a large picture containing a vast number of figures, all 
 admirable, yet in nothing distracting the eye from the prin- 
 cipal one. The elevated expression which characterizes the 
 Martyr at once rivets the attention ; wbile, as you look upon 
 that calm upturned gaze, you forget the bodily suffering she 
 has yet to endure, in the heavenly support and consolation 
 afforded her. 
 
 Another masterpiece of this artist I find I have noted 
 down, the " Madonna del Eosario," — by some considered to 
 surpass even the St. Jerome in the Vatican. 
 
 To the treasures which more properly belong to Bologna, 
 viz., the productions of her own scholars, has been added a 
 precious gem of Raphael's — the Santa Cecilia. I was in- 
 stantly struck with this countenance, not only with its 
 expressive beauty, but the extraordinary likeness it bears to 
 one most dear to me. 
 
 Different pictures, equally powerful in execution, and even 
 beautiful in subject, certainly affect the moral sense in very 
 different degrees. There are many to which one accords the 
 warmest admiration, and from which one bears away the 
 most pleasing impression ; — for instance, the several pictures 
 in the Sciarra Gallery, and those three in the Vatican which 
 I have described. When I actually stood before these, it was 
 with an intense perception of their beauty — their powerful 
 delineation, and the gorgeousness or transparent softness of 
 their tints. But yet for all this, I seldom tliink of these 
 pictures unless accident recall them ; whereas some there are 
 which visit me in the dreamy hour of half unconscious 
 nmsing, and which suggest the mental filling up of a history 
 by the single page which they unfold. " Abraham dismiss- 
 ing Hagar" — " The Sibyl" in the Borghese Palace, are 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 275 
 
 instances of this ; — and now 1 have two more to add to 
 these, which I saw in the Gallery of Bologna. 
 
 The first is " Samson having obtained the Victory over 
 the Philistines," by Guido. Grand, indeed, is the conception 
 of the subject. A flat low plain lies spread before you, over 
 which the dim veil of night is still resting. The horizon is 
 already streaked with the early dawn of day, and there is 
 enough of light to reveal the magnificent figure of Samson, 
 who stands on a rising ground, with the bodies of his fallen 
 foes lying at his feet — the camp of the Philistines is in the 
 far distance. All is still — the last groan of the dying has 
 been hushed — not a sound breaks that awful solitude ! And 
 the mighty champion himself ! — there is no trace of human 
 passion on those pale stern features — neither of human love 
 nor pity ! He stands there as the instrument of Almighty 
 vengeance. Like the destroying angel who passed over the 
 houses of the Egyptians in the midnight hour, carrying wo 
 wherever the shadow of his wing rested, — so does Samson 
 seem here, as it were, removed from earthly sympathy — the 
 sword in the hand of Him who commanded him to smite — 
 who gave miraculous power to the mean and insignificant 
 weapon he had wielded, and which is yet in his grasp. 
 There is nothing horrible in the scene depicted — no revolting 
 spectacle of human torture. All is grand, sublime — most 
 plainly giving this as the interpretation of the incident itself : 
 " Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord." 
 
 Very reluctantly did I turn away from the majestic paint- 
 ing ; yet but a few paces from it, I was arrested by another, 
 which called forth the same sort of intense feeling, " The 
 Massacre of the Innocents." In all respects it is the strongest 
 contrast to the " Samson." Terror, agony, wild despair, are 
 each and all here pourtrayed. And while my eye passed 
 
27G AKT AND NATUKE 
 
 from one form of anguish to another, I felt ready to shrink 
 before the stern determination of those fierce and pitiless 
 soldiers, as if in living contact with them. I hid my face in 
 my hands after gazing on one who, by the might of her 
 mother's love, has succeeded in shielding as yet her precious 
 babe by her own form. Oh ! that relentless wretch ! can he 
 — will he — take the little one even from those bleeding arms ! 
 Again I could almost have screamed aloud, so intense and 
 living is the wild energy which has hitherto kept at bay that 
 cruel monster fiercely assailing a fair young creature, whose 
 infant has as yet escaped his fiiry, and now lies all uncon- 
 scious of its danger ! 
 
 Another — one can but weep for her — calm and still — 
 despair itself is hushed. She has nothing more to hope — 
 nothing more to fear ! One sweet innocent lies on her lap, 
 another at her feet ! Their sufferings are over now ! 
 
 Near her is one whom despair cannot still — the shock has 
 hurled reason from her throne — feeling, hope, memory, all 
 are flown ! Look at the frenzy which lights up her eyes — 
 the long tangled hair thrust back from the hot throbbing 
 brow. I could look no more — and yet distinct and vivid, as 
 though I still looked upon the terrible tragedy, does each 
 form and phase of that mother's agony rise up anew. I 
 almost would I could forget it ! 
 
 Mr, Beckford calls Bologna " a city of puppy dogs and 
 sausages." It was probably this remark that made us curious 
 to experiment upon the latter. Accordingly, when the waiter 
 brought in tea, we ordered a portion of the renowned condi- 
 ment. Alas for unsophisticated palates ! The smell alone 
 was nearly enough — the first mouthful was more than 
 enough ; and ere a second was even contemplated, we 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 277 
 
 changed our plates, and sent the vile combination of raw 
 meat and garlic in disgrace from tlie room ! 
 
 A brilliant moonlight evening tempted us out, wearied 
 though we were. The deep shadows underneath the arches 
 of the Colonnade contrasted with the strong light beyond, 
 and we remarked how fitting a time and place it seemed for 
 the scene of some tale of the lurking assassin, with his 
 gleaming stiletto. Ere we returned, a distant sound of 
 music awoke more pleasing associations, and, to our great 
 delight, a band of performers stopped in the street, near to 
 our hotel. When we could no longer remain out of doors, 
 we retired to our rooms, and leaving the windows open to 
 the soft balmy air, enjoyed till nearly midnight the sweet 
 and soothing; strains. 
 
FERRARA. 
 
 \ HE country between Bologna and Ferrara is 
 certainly remarkable for fertility, but as re- 
 €r>^ markable also for its total want of any 
 natural beauty to interest tbe eye. Long 
 ''' straight lines of road stretch over the dead 
 levels of the plain, with those interminable rows 
 of the stiif Lombardy poplar on either side, 
 ^'-^ tantalizing one at a distance with the promise of 
 ■^y^'-. a shade, which, on reaching them, their meagre forms 
 , "/ are incapable of yielding. Wide stagnant ditches run 
 parallel with the highway for miles and miles, peopled with 
 myriads of bull-frogs, which morning and evening industri- 
 ously exert their voices in serenading the passing traveller ; 
 producing, by dint of combined numbers, a sound which, 
 in loudness and harshness, far exceeded what I could have 
 supposed within the compass of such tiny lungs. 
 
 It was drawing on towards evening when we passed the 
 ramparts, and entered the once proud and gay, but now 
 silent and deserted streets of Ferrara. We noticed, in several 
 of the most aristocratic-looking squares, the grass growing 
 
ART AND NATURE UNDKR AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 271) 
 
 luxuriantly on the untrodden pavement, while few and far 
 between were the vehicles of any description visible. We 
 drove to the principal inn, " Tre Mori," — once I believe a 
 Royal Palace. You drive under the time-worn arch of an 
 immense gateway, into a spacious court surrounded by open 
 corridors, off which are innumerable apartments — once doubt- 
 less elegant and noble, but now dingv, comfortless, and 
 unclean. 
 
 As our time here was so very limited, we could do nothing 
 but glance at the few specimens of the Ferrarese School of 
 Painting, that still are to be found in the place ; and there- 
 fore I am unable to give even my own opinion of any of 
 them. The Cathedral is a Gothic edifice, with an imposing 
 exterior ; but with peculiarities of architecture which I could 
 not by any means admire. The front is divided by small 
 towers into three equal portions, with a circular window in 
 each, and terminating in a pointed gable surmounted by a 
 pinnacle. On the porch are very fine bas-reliefs, which have 
 been beautifully preserved — representing the Last Judgment, 
 the Life of Christ, and other sacred subjects. Over the door 
 is a colossal statue of the Virgin in marble, long venerated as 
 the miraculous Madonna of Ferrara. 
 
 We visited none of the other churches, but hastened on to 
 the great object of curiosity which this ancient city contains 
 — Tasso's prison, as it is called. A small cell in the Hospital 
 of St. Anna is pointed out as the place of the great poet's con- 
 finement. In this miserable little cage he was immured as 
 an alleged madman for nearly two years, after which he was 
 removed to a larger apartment contiguous to it. As to the 
 fact of this being the identical place of Tasso's imprisonment, 
 different authorities have given conflicting opinions ; but 
 popular tradition assuredly points out this as such ; and in 
 
280 ART AND NATURE 
 
 these cases, the stranger does wisely not to mar his own en- 
 joyment, and lessen the interest of the spot, by being too 
 learnedly sceptical. Byron's name is written with his own 
 hand on the wall of the cell, and those of other literary cele- 
 brities are also there. 
 
 Another honoured name among Italy's sons of genius is 
 also recalled with special interest in Ferrara. Near the 
 Church of Santa Maria stands the house which was long in- 
 habited by Ariosto, and in which he died in 1533. He came 
 to the university for the purpose of pursuing the study of 
 law — the profession to which he was first dedicated, but 
 which he forsook for the more congenial atmosphere of 
 romance and poetry, I fell in, not long ago, with a sonnet 
 of this poet, which pleased as well as surprised me, for I was 
 not prepared to meet with so much apparent devotional feel- 
 ing. I give it in the translated form in which I noted it 
 down. 
 
 " How shall my cold and lifeless prayer ascend, 
 Father of Mercies, to Thy seat on high, 
 If while my lips for Thy deliverance call. 
 My heart against that liberty contend ? 
 Do Thou who knowest all. Thy rescue send, 
 
 Though every power of mine the help deny 
 
 Eternal God, oh! pardon that I went 
 
 Erring so long! Whence have mine eyes been smit 
 
 With darkness, nor the good from evil known. 
 
 To spare offenders, being penitent. 
 
 Is even ours ; to drag them from the pit. 
 
 Themselves resisting, Lord is Thine alone." 
 
 Ferrara was one of those places peculiarly interesting in 
 Italy, from having given decided encouragement and impulse 
 to the glorious work of the Reformation. Nor among those 
 associated with its past, did we forget one whose giant mind 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 281 
 
 and powerful energies were consecrated to far higher ends 
 than those of this world's wisdom or refinement. John 
 Calvin found an asylum here during some months of 1535, 
 under the protection of the Duchesse Kenee, daughter of 
 Louis XII., who was herself a convert to the Protestant faith 
 imder the instructions of the great Reformer. 
 
 Our curiosity did not induce us to cross the drawbridge, 
 and thunder for admittance at the iron-clenched doors of the 
 huge Castle, or ancient Ducal Palace, which, with its frown- 
 ing battlements, and deep dark moat around it, stands in the 
 midst of the town, isolated, like some stern unsympathizing 
 tyrant, from all connexion with the community around it, 
 save that of despotic command. In the dungeons of this 
 gloomy fortress, and beneath the level of those dark waters 
 which ripple around its walls, deeds of cruelty, as legends 
 tell, have been often^perpetrated. 
 
 Ferrara is a place of much interest connected with bygone 
 ages — ^both in its political and intellectual history. Wealth, 
 genius, and nobility were, during many generations, congre- 
 gated there ; but the glory ahke of court and of commerce 
 has departed from her. Nor were we, I confess, sorry to 
 foUow the example, and to bid adieu, the morning after our 
 arrival, to this melancholy and lifeless city of the past. 
 
 Our route from Ferrara lay through the same monotonous 
 level of fertile country. Monselice is a prettily situated little 
 town — remarkable for the bold and picturesque position of 
 its Castle upon an overhanging rock, and remarkable also 
 for swarms of vipers which infest every bank and ruined wall 
 in its neighbourhood. 
 
PADUA. 
 
 FTER another monotonous drive through level 
 meadows and swamps intersected with canals, 
 we arrived at Padua. Being yet early in the 
 day, and having two or tkree hours to bestow 
 upon the curiosities of the ancient and learned 
 city, we sallied forth to make the most of them. 
 
 The environs are peculiar from the many open 
 spaces of waste ground that occur among the 
 irregular streets and villas which seem straggling here 
 and there without any definite plan. This gives the 
 appearance of a city originally designed to be of a much larger 
 extent than it has attained to ; or else of one that has been 
 partially destroyed, and the ruins totally swept away. Beyond 
 the houses there is a large extent of uncultivated and unen- 
 closed land, having somewhat the appearance of English 
 downs, stretching away on every side. 
 
 The city walls and fortifications are now little more than 
 dilapidated ruins ; but some few towers and gateways still 
 remain, which shew that the once proud appellation of 
 " Padova la Forte" was not misapplied. 
 
AUT AISID NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 283 
 
 According to the earliest tradition, Padua owed its first 
 origin to Antenor, who founded it when he migrated to 
 Italy, shortly after the destruction of Troy ; and I suppose 
 there is not much doubt that it was this same Antenor who, 
 being canonized by the Church, during the dark ages, under 
 the cognomen of St, Anthony, became thenceforth the patron 
 saint of the city. This incongruity, extraordinary as it seems, 
 is the less improbable from the fact, that on the discovery, 
 in the thirteenth century, of the supposed skeleton of Antenor 
 contained in a sarcophagus which was dug up in laying the 
 foundations of one of the public hospitals, the mortal remains 
 of the ancient pagan were deposited within the sacred pre- 
 cincts of the Church of San Lorenzo. Though the church 
 has been removed, the sarcophagus is still permitted to remain 
 upon the consecrated ground. 
 
 The Cathedral is a huge and massive structure, but with 
 little pretensions either to beauty of ornament or grandeur of 
 design, Michael Angelo was the original architect, but as it 
 was not finished till nearly two centuries after his death, it is 
 probable that little of his plan was carried out. 
 
 The building which most excites one's interest, because 
 most connected with the national character and traditions of 
 the Paduans, is the Palazzo della Kazione, erected by Pietro 
 Cozzo in the end of the twelfth century. This immense edi- 
 fice stands in the market-place, and is supported entirely 
 upon open arches. It is surmounted by one great pyramid- 
 like roof, the sombre colour and gigantic proportions of which 
 render it a striking object the moment it comes in view. 
 This roof, indeed, was long one of the wonders of the world, 
 not only on accoiint of certain mechanical principles employed 
 in its formation, but from being the largest ever constructed 
 independent of the support of pillars from the interior. Alas, 
 
284 ART AND NATURE 
 
 that in these days it should have to yield in this last respect 
 to many a railway station ! We were greatly pleased with 
 the venerable old hall which it covers. The style is a mixed 
 Gothic, and the general effect at once quaint and imposing. 
 The ceiling, or rather the concave of the roof, is of open 
 rafters, the lower extremities of which reach down almost to 
 the floor. The proportions of the hall are immense, being 
 little short of three hundred feet in length and one hundred 
 feet in breadth ; while being less lofty in comparison, these 
 measurements would be guessed at even more. The vdndows 
 are very small, and just afford light sufficient to cast an im- 
 pressive gloom through the vast echoing chamber, and upon 
 the strange mystical figures and devices painted upon the 
 walls. The latter are said to have been the work of Giotto ; 
 and though some of them are damaged and marred, not less 
 by lame attempts to restore them than by the original cause 
 of damage itself, yet the beauty and antique character of 
 many are still most evident, and have been wonderfully pre- 
 served amid repeated casualties that might have occasioned 
 their destruction. The prevailing subjects of these paintings 
 are connected with astronomy and astrology, with personifi- 
 cations, in some of the compartments, of the Moral Virtues, 
 and of the Seasons. 
 
 At the top of the haU is what is called the Monument of 
 Livy, whom the Paduans claim as a native of their territory, 
 having been born at Abano. Opposite to this is the sable 
 block of stone called the Lapis Vituperii, on which insolvent 
 debtors were formerly required, during a certain time, to sit 
 exposed to public ignominy, as the condition on which they 
 might be held as cleared. 
 
 The chief attraction to the lover of art, in Padua, is a little 
 church erected within the ancient Eoman amphitheatre — as 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 285 
 
 its name bears — the Chapel of the " Annunziata della Arena." 
 It is usually, however, called " Giotto's Chapel," on account 
 of the beautiful and elaborate frescoes with which his pencil 
 has decorated the whole of its interior. These frescoes were 
 the especial admiration and delight of Titian, who adopted 
 many of them as studies and copies in the composition of his 
 own works. The subjects are taken from the Bible, and from 
 the apocryphal books ; and it is said that many of the scenes 
 and ideas depicted were suggested to the artist by Dante, who 
 lived in the same house with Giotto, while the latter was 
 engaged in the work. We had so little time to devote to 
 this wonderful chapel, which, in fact, it would require days 
 to do justice to, that I am unable, even if time and space 
 would allow, to give any detailed account of the paintings in 
 it, though several of them struck me powerfully, even in our 
 hasty glance at them. Over the entrance is a representation 
 of the Last Judgment, the general idea of which seems taken 
 from expressions in the Book of Revelations. Far removed 
 as I always feel such subjects to be above the proper and 
 legitimate province of the artist's pencil, I could not but 
 acknowledge that here the figure of our Lord, receiving and 
 welcoming the just in their " white robes," is very grand and 
 solemn. 
 
 The general series of paintings on the sides of the chapel is 
 divided into three. The first series contains scenes and inci- 
 dents from the life of the Virgin — principally from ecclesias- 
 tical traditions and legends. Some, however, are very touch- 
 ing and beautiful, both in conception and execution. The 
 second series contains the life of our Lord. This, in the 
 colouring and even outline of many of the figures and groups, 
 has been grievously injured, but in others these are quite 
 fresh and perfect. The Resurrection of Lazarus, which forms 
 
286 ART AND NATURE UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY, 
 
 the ninth, division, is a remarkably fine composition. The 
 body of the entombed man, in the very act, as it were, of 
 casting off the fetters of death and awaking into life, with the 
 bands and cerements of the grave around him, the awe-struck 
 countenances of the figures standing by, the calm majesty of 
 the SaAdour himself, to whose voice even the dull cold ear of 
 death has thus responded, seemed to me all magnificently 
 brought out. The third series is a continuation of scenes 
 from the history of our Lord. Of this, that which represents 
 the Deposition from the Cross is considered the finest com- 
 position — indeed, by some, the master-piece of all Giotto's 
 works. The deep affliction of the mother of Jesus, and the 
 characteristic expression given to the countenances of the two 
 disciples who are about to receive the body for its burial, are 
 thought to be unrivalled, in force and faithfulness, by any of 
 his other performances. There are other compartments un- 
 derneath this series, containing subjects of a less interesting 
 description, — allegories and symbolical figures of various 
 kinds, — but we could not stay to examine them. 
 
 On leaving the chapel we found the hour fixed for starting 
 so close at hand, that we had to abandon all idea of seeing 
 any of the other churches. Hurrying back to the hotel, we 
 ordered out the carriage, and drove down to the Railway 
 Station, in time to catch the afternoon train to Venice ; 
 sending Ferdinando and his horses back to Padua, there to 
 enjoy, till our return, the dolcefar' niente, of which the latter, 
 at all events, stood not a little in need. 
 
VENICE. 
 
 ES ! the train to Venice ! What an iinpoetical 
 idea ! In our impatience, however, we were 
 little disposed to quarrel with it ; and as we 
 took our seats in a comfortable carriage, 
 gladly anticipated our rapid advance. I was 
 quite fascinated with one of the loveliest chil- 
 dren I have seen, who, with her mother, was in 
 the second division of the same carriage with 
 The latter, a gentle, pleasing, lady-like Italian, 
 ^^-'^^ seemed delighted with my admiring glances at her 
 child, and the little one had kissed her hand to me several 
 times, when the ingress of sundry coarse, disagreeable 
 Italians, with their loud voices and violent gesticulations, 
 gave me an excuse to cross to the other side of the car- 
 riage. Her sweet simplicity and perfect child-like manner 
 were quite refreshing, after the affected and forward appear- 
 ance, both in manner and dress, so usual in children abroad. 
 The thick masses of silky black hair curled naturally, and 
 hung down her neck ; her soft, sweet, dark eyes, beaming 
 with gladness, almost made one merry to look at, — and yet 
 
288 ART AND NATURE 
 
 their earnest thoiightfulness, when she ceased to smile, was 
 not less beautiful, I was pleased with the mother also, with 
 whom I tried to converse. We spoke of Venice — of its past 
 history and present state ; and her whole face lighted up as 
 she told me something of its days of pride. Alas ! how is 
 the glory departed now. And yet, apart from what is excit- 
 ing to the imagination in these bygone days of her pomp and 
 splendour, can one regret the overtlirow of the complicated 
 system of tyranny, injustice, and cruelty that existed in the 
 days of the two memorable Councils ? 
 
 However, as was natural in a Venetian, she spoke with 
 enthusiasm of their old customs and institutions, exjDressing 
 most strongly her feelings with regard to the proceedings of 
 the French, when they occupied Venice. Certainly, the im- 
 pression which the whole of Italy gives of the conduct of 
 Napoleon's army, during their campaign there, is anything 
 but favourable. Such frequent abuse of power, such wanton 
 destruction even of works of art, such sacrilegious despoiling 
 of churches and galleries of their treasures and their orna- 
 ments, cannot surely on any ground be justified. 
 
 Meanwhile, thus conversing, we had rapidly advanced, and 
 very shortly my friend asked me to take her place and look 
 out. We were, at the moment, on a raised viaduct which 
 conducts the railroad about two miles across the sea from the 
 mainland, — while beyond, literally rising out from the water, 
 rose the fair domes and minarets of the " Bride of the 
 Adriatic." A very little time took us to the terminus, — 
 in a few minutes more I had bid adieu to the mother 
 and her child, and stood on the verge of one of the broad 
 canals. 
 
 Having arranged about passports, and settled with one of 
 the numerous l^oatmen who offered their services, we stepped, 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 289 
 
 for the first time, into a gondola. These graceful little vessels 
 quite realize the romantic ideas one forms of them. The 
 absence of all felt motion, — the swift, noiseless, gliding ad- 
 vance, — the luxurious seats, on which one reclines as on a 
 sofa, — and even the dark funereal appearance — (those in 
 ordinary use being painted black, and their awnings of the 
 same sombre hue,) — all is in keeping vdth the poetry and 
 mystery associated with this strange place. The graphic pen 
 of Rogers has done what I think is ever acceptable to the 
 traveller on such occasions, embodied in beautiful and appro- 
 priate Unes, one's own sensations on first entering the unfa- 
 miliar precincts of Venice : — 
 
 ■' Thei'o is a glorious city in the sea : 
 The sea is in tlie broad, the narrow streets, 
 Ebbing and flowing ; and the salt sea weed 
 Clings to the marble of her palaces. 
 No trade of men, no footsteps to and fro, 
 Lead to her gates : the path lies o'er the se.i, 
 Invincible ; and from the land we went 
 As to a floating city, — steering in 
 And gliding up lior streets as in a dream, 
 So smodthly — silently — by many a dome. 
 Mosque-like, and many a stately portico ; 
 The statues ranged along an azure sky, — 
 By many a pile in more than Eastern pride, 
 Of old the residence of merchant-kings ; 
 The fronts of some, though Time had shattered them, 
 Still glowing with the richest hues of art. 
 As though the wealth within them had run o'er." 
 
 In spite of all our delight at finding ourselves in Venice, 
 our first impressions were not enhanced by the extreme difti- 
 culty we found in getting rooms. Owing to the expected 
 arrival of the Empress of Eussia that very day, every place 
 but the most wretched apartments seemed taken. For two 
 
 T 
 
290 ART AND NATUKE 
 
 hours we glided from inn to inn, till at last we were forced 
 to content oui-selves with a back-room in the Leone Bianco, 
 tolerably comfortable but rather dull. So far it was Avell, as 
 this hotel stands on the Grand Canal, and even its back- 
 rooms are less dark and dreary than those of others that look 
 to the front — into one of the narrow gloomy canals which 
 intersect the interior of the city. 
 
 As soon as we had landed our luggage^ and paid the exor- 
 bitant demands of the gondolier, who, of course, took advan- 
 tage of the arrival of strangers, we sent to the post-office. 
 Alas, a sad disappointment ! none of the letters expected had 
 arrived. After the intense heat had a little abated, we 
 walked through some of the narrow streets, or rather pas- 
 sages, which form the only land conmmnication between the 
 diflferent parts of the town. These led us, after some wan- 
 dering, to the Piazza San Marco. What a scene is that as it 
 bursts upon the stranger ! Familiar as a thousand pictures 
 may make one with the form and position of the different 
 buildings, nothing, I am certain, can lessen the powerful 
 impression of the reality. The Piazza San Marco seems to 
 recall the whole history, and to place before the eye the 
 entire ideal, so to speak, of Venice, The Palace of her Doge, 
 the Ducal Chapel, the mansions of her high officers of state, 
 the prisons of her criminals — every token of national religion, 
 national dignity, and national power — all are here concen- 
 trated and brought within one glance. The domes and 
 cupolas of San Marco, the glittering pinnacles and golden 
 mosaics, the vivid colours of the frescoes, the antique fretted 
 gothic work, the splendid columns of richest marbles — 
 green, purple, yellow, and almost transparent white, the 
 celebrated gilt bronze horses over the central arch of the 
 portal, constitute a vision of magic s})lendour quite incon- 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 2<n 
 
 ceivable. On the right hand rises the princely pile of the 
 Doge's palace, — its very name calling up memories of power 
 and magnificence. A little to the side are the two granite 
 columns so intimately associated with the history of the 
 Republic : the one bearing " the winged lion of St. Mark," 
 — the other the statue of St. Theodore, erst patron-saint 
 of the fair city, until St. Mark usurped the popular vene- 
 ration. 
 
 Immediately in front of San Marco are the three bronze 
 pedestals of Alessandro Leopardo, in which are inserted the 
 masts from which once proudly waved the three gonfalons of 
 silk and gold, signifying the three dominions of the Republic 
 — Venice, Cyprus, and the Morea, — or, some say, their portion 
 of Constantinople and the Eastern Empire. The mighty 
 gonfalons have now given place to the ample folds of white 
 and scarlet of the Austrian standards. More to the right, 
 and farther in, towards the middle of the Piazza, is the 
 grand, gi'ave, old Tower of the Campanile. There is some- 
 thing striking in its stern simplicity of material and design, 
 amidst the rich exuberance of ornament around. At first, it 
 seems rather out of place, but as you look again there is that 
 in its noble height and massive strength which is undoubtedly 
 imposing, and makes it that fitting memorial of yet earlier 
 ages, which in truth it is, — having stood there nearly a 
 thousand years. At the end of the Piazza nearest the 
 Cathedral, is the Tower of the Orologio, which completes 
 the unrivalled group. Its great orb is resplendent with blue 
 and gold, with a figure of the sun travelling round the 
 zodiacal signs upon it, and marking the time of twice twelve 
 hours. Above are two immense bronze figures which, with 
 ponderous hammers, beat the different hours upon the great 
 bell between them. 
 
292 
 
 ART AND NATUEE 
 
 After walking round the Piazza, we entered the Catliedral. 
 The gilt ground of the mosaics conveys the idea of its being 
 lined with gold, and while the effect is exceedingly rich, yet 
 from the absence of strong light, it is not too showy. But per- 
 haps it is not the first time one sees the interior that it is fully 
 appreciated. It is so totally unlike anything else in Europe, 
 that I think one feels more inclined to wonder than to admire 
 — admire at least to the extent one does after becoming 
 more familiarized with its mosque-like magnificence. I find 
 it interesting to look back on the various cathedrals I have 
 seen ; beginning with the fairy tracery work of Antwerp, — 
 then the minghng of grandeur and magnificence at Cologne, 
 — ^the imposing height and solemnity of the noble Gothic 
 pile at Strasbourg, — the dream-like beauty of the Domo at 
 Milan, — the palladian edifices of Pisa and Sienna, the un- 
 rivalled dome and stupendous majesty of St. Peter's, — and 
 recalling the feelings peculiar to each, turn to this strange 
 and unfamiliar building. No sensation of awe, such as I 
 have often experienced, mingles with the admiration which 
 cannot but be excited by the gorgeous splendour of the 
 Byzantine style of architecture exhibited in St. Mark's. 
 Vain would be the attempt to describe the endless variety of 
 objects on which the eye falls. Trophies from many a distant 
 shore ; marble tablets bearing Syrian inscriptions, and inter- 
 spersed with allegorical representations, now of Pagan myth- 
 ology, and anon of Prophets and Evangelists ; figures wrought 
 in purple porphyry from Acre ; Gothic work in bronze, silver, 
 and stone, executed by the famous Venetian goldsmiths ; nor 
 must I omit to mention the Pala d'Oro, made at Constanti- 
 nople, famous alike for the splendour of its decorations and 
 its great antiquity. 
 
 We did not stay long, as we were impatient to enjoy the 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 293 
 
 delights of an evening on the Grand Canal. Choosing, on 
 this occasion, a barchetta or open gondola, we soon found 
 ourselves gliding into the great thoroughfare of the city. It 
 is impossible to imagine anything of the kind more enjoy- 
 able than the noiseless rapidity with which we darted through 
 the tiny rippling waves, while the cool fresh air from the 
 water fanned us ; — our gondolier, meanwhile, pointing out 
 each locality to which an interest was attached, — this, the 
 abode of the Doge Marino Falieri, — there, the Palazzo of the 
 Foscari, one of the mightiest families in other days, — to the 
 right. Lord Byron's Palace, — farther on, to the left, the 
 Palazzo Correr, (now the post-office ;) — and so he went on, 
 each few strokes of the oar bringing one to some fresh object of 
 attraction. We spent more than three hours upon the water, 
 and then returned to the Piazza, which, at this later period 
 of the day had assumed a peculiarly characteristic appear- 
 ance. It was crowded with people walking up and down in 
 the centre. At the sides, and in front of the arches were 
 little tables surrounded with chairs, where groups both of 
 ladies and gentlemen were enjoying ices and coffee. We, 
 too, determined to be Venetians ; and taking possession of 
 one of the little tables, with its surrounding seats, we sent 
 for those most seasonable luxuries, and then enjoyed to the 
 full a band of military music. It was very delicious, and 
 though only the second week in May, the air felt so soft and 
 balmy that we remained in the Piazza till ten o'clock, and 
 then returned to the hotel. 
 
 Next morning, at breakfast, we received, to our great joy, 
 
 the expected letter from Mr. M , telling us of his being 
 
 at Venice. He joined us almost immediately after, and a 
 happy meeting indeed it was. He lost no time in sending 
 for his luggage, and securing a room in the Leone Bianco. 
 
21)4 ART AND NATURE 
 
 Ere long we had not only talked over our mutual adventures 
 since we parted in Scotland, and many mutual interests and 
 friends, but had arranged that he should accompany us on 
 our homeward route by the Tyi'ol, and through Southern 
 Germany, visiting, on our way to the Khine, the ancient 
 towns of Nuremberg and Wurtzburg. 
 
 About eleven o'clock we all went in a gondola to the Belle 
 Arte, There are many fine paintings here of this far-famed 
 school ; but, as a collection, I thought it inferior to that of 
 either Florence or Bologna. 
 
 The most celebrated picture is the Assumption of the 
 Virgin, by Titian. The celestial light around the Virgin, and 
 the solemn grandeur of the group of figures below, are very 
 impressive. The colouring of the drapery around the Ma- 
 donna is rich and splendid, but it too partakes of what seems 
 to me the fault of the whole picture, a want of lightness and 
 grace. The figure is heavy and large, and the colours want 
 a something aerial, which is so admirably given by Raphael, 
 in the Madonna di Foligno, and many others. Immediately 
 opposite Titian's, is a picture very highly thought of, by 
 Tintoretto. At first one is only struck with the horrible 
 reality of the suspended execution, — the subject being " The 
 dehverance of the Venetian Slave by St. Mark, at the very 
 moment of his execution." Altogether, it is very unpleasing, 
 though, at the same time, the power and energy thrown into 
 the attitudes and countenances, leave no room to question 
 its great merit. One that satisfied me much more, however 
 inferior as to force of painting, is by Paris Bordone, " The Old 
 Fisherman presenting to the Doge the Ring found in the 
 Lido." A view, by Gentile Bellini, of the Piazza San Marco 
 in olden times, with a procession, is interesting, as shewing 
 the Piazza as it was in 1496, together with the costume of 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN HKY. 2\)o 
 
 the period iu the animated figures with which the fore- 
 ground is filled. 
 
 While we were still in the Gallery, the Princess Olga, 
 daughter of the Emperor of Russia, a very beautiful woman, 
 came in with her suite, passing close by us. At first, we sup- 
 posed it was the Empress, and were greatly impressed with 
 the commanding dignity of her step, and the regal grandeur 
 of her manner. 
 
 In the early morning, Mr. M and I ascended to the 
 
 Belfry of the Campanile. First, we mounted by a continuous 
 inclined plane, and then by steps round an inner tower. This 
 is open here and there, and most awful it is to look down 
 into tlie dark deep well beneath ; but I carefully avoided 
 turning my eyes much in that direction, and, by keeping close 
 to the wall, managed to get on very well. The parapet which 
 surrounds the gallery at the top is so high that any one can 
 look from it without a sensation of nervousness — a very great 
 advantage to those who suffer as I do in such situations. I 
 would not on any account have missed enjoying the view 
 from the Campanile, since none other can give one so complete 
 an idea of the city. The morning is a particularly favourable 
 time to see it, as the horizontal rays bring out every part. 
 This bird's-eye view shews one the various canals, which, like 
 veins, intersect it ; the Grand Canal being always conspicuous 
 as the main artery. Another advantage of this position is, 
 that it is sufficiently, yet not too much elevated to enable one 
 to distinguish the position of the different palaces, churches, 
 &c. We could willingly have lingered a while, but having 
 devoted this day to the Doge's Palace and several Galleries, 
 were reluctantly obliged to retrace our steps. 
 
 Having found W at the place of rendezvous, we im- 
 mediately repaired to the Cortile of the Palazzo. A beautiful 
 
29() ART AND NATURE 
 
 fountain occupies tlie centre of the court, and one is struck 
 with the perfect harmony with which the most diversified 
 style of ornament and architecture have been made to blend 
 together. The Scala dei Giganti, constructed of the finest 
 marble, leads to the Scala d'Oro, where were once the terrible 
 lions' mouths, but of which only the apertures now remain. 
 As it would be quite impracticable J;o give anything like a 
 full account of the numberless rooms, I can only name a few 
 which either were in themselves remarkable, or contained 
 pictures deserving of especial notice. 
 
 In the Sala delle Quattro Porte is Titian's well-known 
 " La Fede ; " with which, however, we were all alike disap- 
 pointed. The presence-chamber which opens from this hall, 
 and in which the Doge and his council received foreign Am- 
 bassadors, is of noble dimensions, adorned with some fine 
 national paintings of Paul Veronese, The Sala del Senate 
 interested me greatly, from retaining much of its original 
 character and arrangement. The tribune for the speakers — 
 nay, even the candlesticks used when discussions were pro- 
 longed into the midnight hour — could not but bring to mind 
 the glorious days of this once haughty Kepublic, These were 
 pleasing associations, and very different from others soon after 
 called forth, as I entered, with a shudder, the Sala dei Dieci. 
 Here sat the dread tribunal on whose lightest word depended 
 the lives and liberty of thousands. The very chairs are standing 
 there at the upper end of the haill, apparently just as they were 
 last used, the crimson morocco cushions worn and faded ! I 
 sat down on one of these, and for an instant fancied it endowed 
 with power to tell the fearful tragedies of which it had been the 
 unconscious witness ! Oh, if that lifeless frame had language, 
 how thrilling would be its revelations ! Yet more terrible still 
 are the associations connected with the smaller, the " Hall of 
 
UNDEli AN ITALIAN SKY. 
 
 297 
 
 Three," which is close beside that of the " Ten," This 
 apartment is destitute of any ornament, and with no relics of 
 its reign of terror save the roof and floor, which are as of 
 old. In one of its side walls, however, is the narrow passage, 
 or throat, with which the Lion's Month outside communicated. 
 
 The " Sala del Consiglio" is a magnificent room : Mr. M 
 
 took its measurementi, one hundred and fifty-four feet long, 
 and seventy-four feet wide. It is to be regretted, I think, 
 that it has been converted into a Museum, The paintings 
 commemorating the power and prosperity of the Republic 
 yet remain, however, and are interesting as among the first 
 specimens of oil-painting in which canvas was employed, — 
 the Venetian school being the earliest to adopt it. One of 
 these, by Tintoretto, is said to be the largest ever painted on 
 canvas, being seventy-four feet in length. I was particularly 
 pleased with one of Bassano's, "The Pope delivering the 
 Consecrated Sword to the Doge." It is most interesting from 
 the scene being the Piazza San Marco ; while the perspective 
 of the buildings, and of the groups of figures placed beneath the 
 arches, and in various other situations, is admirable. Passing 
 more hastily over several by Paul Veronese, Bassano, Palma, 
 and Tintoretto, I was particularly arrested by the subject of 
 one, by Palma, " The Siege and Conquest of Constantinople 
 by the Crusaders," led on by the venerable Dandolo. Can one 
 look on this animated picture, and not think of the yet more 
 powerful portrait drawn by the pen of Rogers : — 
 
 " In that temple porcli, 
 Old as lie was, and in his hundredth year, 
 And blind — his eyes put out — did Dandolo 
 Stand forth, displaying on his crown the cross. 
 There did he stand erect — invincible ; 
 Though wan his cheeks, and wet with many tears, 
 For in his prayers he had been weeping much ; 
 
298 ART AND NATL'llE 
 
 And now the pilgrims and tlie people wept 
 
 With admiration, — saying in their liearts, 
 
 ' Snrely those aged limbs have need of rest ! ' " 
 
 On leaving the Doge's Palace, we agreed to proceed next 
 to the Churches of San Giovanni and Paolo, and Santa Maria 
 della Salute, partly for the sake of obtaining the refreshment 
 of a quiet half hour in a gondola on our way thither. San 
 Giovanni is in the peculiar Veneto-Gothic style, differing 
 greatly in its solemn grandeur from the exuberance of orna- 
 ment in the Cathedral. Its effect is heightened by the 
 brilhancy of the painted windows, which I rejoiced to see 
 once more, and which are very rare in Venice. The monu- 
 ments to the Doges, who are buried in this church, are very 
 numerous, but any description would be tedious. 
 
 Before returning, Mr. M accompanied me to the 
 
 Manfrini Palace, famed for its collection of pictures. There 
 I saw, among others, a very lovely Carlo Dolce, and two 
 Titians, of which Lord Byron speaks enthusiastically ; one 
 an Ariosto, which it is scarcely possible to overestimate ; the 
 other is the Queen of Cyprus. The rare beauty of the orna- 
 ments she wears almost eclipses her own ; though her eyes, 
 as well as the expression of her face, are very lovely. 
 
 Perhaps we were hardly able to do justice to this galleiy, 
 as in truth I was utterly worn out with bodily fatigue. An 
 evening spent in a gondola, after the refreshment of ices and 
 coffee, recruited me more than anything else could have done, 
 and prepared me for enjoying with renewed zest a most 
 animated scene next day — a regatta on the Grand Canal. 
 
 Singidarly fortunate were we in witnessing a spectacle so 
 characteristic of Venice in her palmy days. It was to the 
 presence of the Empress of Kussia we owed this gratification. 
 Of the actual trial of speed between the competing gondolas 
 
UNDEli AX ITALIAN SKY. 299 
 
 I can say nothing, as I did not witness it ; but the subse- 
 quent corso upon the Grand Canal was delightful. Crowds 
 of gondolas gliding here and there, many of them gorgeously 
 decorated ; gay barchettas, some with bands of music on 
 board. The gondohers clad in the ancient costumes of their 
 picturesque craft — some in black velvet jackets, with slashed 
 sleeves, and white feathers in their caps ; others in a dress of 
 pale blue and silver ; and again a crew gleaming in all the 
 splendour of golden coloured satin. As now and then the 
 livery of some noble Venetian House was recognised, the 
 names of " Foscari," " Manfrini," or others, would echo 
 through the crowd, who welcomed their favourite gondolas 
 with loud huzzas. After a while the royal party was recog- 
 nised amid the throng. The Empress was in a barque highly 
 ornamented, and lined with white and gold ; while that of 
 the beautiful Princess Olga was adorned with blue and 
 silver ; in harmony, we thought, with her fair and deli- 
 cate complexion. We passed both the imperial ladies several 
 times ; indeed, in the pressure of the crowd, immediately 
 below the Rialto, we were at one moment in some little 
 danger from the gondola of the Empress. With the formid- 
 able serrated plate of steel, which forms the invariable orna- 
 ment on the bows of these vessels, it struck against ours with 
 some force, but fortunately so near the stern as only to cause 
 a little alarm. The Empress looked rather frightened, and 
 expressed her hope that no injury had been done, bowing 
 
 with much graciousness to us, as W and Mr. M 
 
 stood up, with their hats off, to acknowledge her courtesy. 
 Among her suite I saw Prince F , but could only ex- 
 change a smile and bow of recognition, so dense was the 
 crowd. 
 
 Only one evening more now remained to us ; and what an 
 
300 ART AND NATURE 
 
 evening it was ! realizing, nay, surpassing, all our dreams of 
 the enchantment of Venice ! First, the radiant hues of as 
 bright a sunset as ever lighted even an Italian sky, cast a 
 glow of golden beauty far and wide over sea and city. A 
 few minutes later, the tallest towers and domes alone caught, 
 as it were, the parting ray, and shone like burnished gold ; 
 and just as we entered on the Lagimes, its farewell tint of 
 crimson lingered, ere it faded into that short twilight which 
 delays but briefly the reign of night's gentle queen. Dark 
 and still, indeed, seemed those waters around us, beneath 
 that cold grey twilight, and gloomy the vast buildings that 
 seemed to float upon their leaden surface ! Yet it did but 
 enhance the loveliness of the glorious flood of moonlight that 
 followed. Speedily, beneath that magic touch, all looked 
 more fair than ever. Perhaps the mellow light dealt more 
 tenderly with the fallen glory of the Adriatic bride, casting a 
 friendly shade o'er Time's rude havoc ! Perhaps the soft 
 melancholy of the hour suited the ruin and decay of her 
 once gorgeous beauty, — or was it that its witching effects 
 were in ourselves alone .^ I know not — but few were the 
 words we spoke. The spell of the hour was upon us, and 
 even a whisper seemed too harsh a sound ; something there 
 was in that evening scene and all its accompaniments, that 
 seemed not to belong, to real life — that refused to blend with 
 ruder and more commonplace associations ! 
 
 Strange, indeed, was the transition from the stillness of 
 those moonlit waters, to a brilliant illumination in the Piazza 
 San Marco ! Yet not less calculated was the scene there to 
 awaken imagination's most vivid play, as those gorgeous 
 edifices shone forth beneath the light of many thousand 
 lamps, in colours as varied as the mosaic tints they shone 
 upon. Every part of those vast buildings, every arch, every 
 
UNDER AN ITALIAN SKY. 301 
 
 window, was marked with lines of coloured light ; brilliant 
 meteors flashed in the sky, and devices of eveiy kind in 
 fireworks, shed a dazzling radiance around. To this illu- 
 mination, in honour of the Empress, was added the most 
 inspiriting music, from bands placed in different parts of 
 the square ; and in the enjoyment of their delicious strains, 
 and of the beautiful and gorgeous spectacle around, quickly 
 passed away our last evening in fair Venice. 
 
 TUK END. 
 
 KDIMUKCH : T. CIIA.STA BLK. riU.Nl'HU Tl) HKK JIAJHSTV, 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 
 
 H. R. H. THE DUCHESS OF KENT. 
 
 H. R. H. THE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER. 
 
 The Duke of Hamilton, Hamilton Palace, 
 The Duchess of Hamilton, 
 Sir John Orde, Bart., Kilmory, Lochgilphead, 
 Miss Orde, ..... 
 
 George V. Fosbery, Esq., ..... 2 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Cumming, 7, Montague Place, Russell Sq., London, 5 
 
 Mrs. Beckford, South Stoneham House, Southampton, . o 
 
 Miss Middleton, Do. ... 2 
 
 Mrs. Barwell, Cowes Castle, Isle of Wight, ... 1 
 
 The Marquess of Cholmondely, Cholmondely Castle, Cheshire, 1 
 
 The Marchioness of Cholmondeley, . . ' . . 1 
 Mrs. Miles, West End, PTampstead, . . . .10 
 
 The Earl of Harrowby, Sandon Hall, ... 1 
 
 The Countess of Harrowby, ..... 1 
 
 Villiers Dent, Esq., Avon Cottage, Hants, . . . .S 
 
 Mrs. Villiers Dent, ...... 2 
 
 The Marquess of Huntly, Chapel Street, London, . .1 
 
 Charles Orde, Esq., Nunnekirk, Northumberland, . . ") 
 
 The Visconnt Canning, 10, Grosvenor Square, London, . I 
 
 The Viscountess Canning, ..... 1 
 
 The Lady Stuart de Rothesay, .... 1 
 
 The Marchioness of Watei-ford, .... 1 
 
 Mrs. Harley Maxwell, of Portrack, Dumfries, . . /) 
 
 U 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 Large 
 25 
 25 
 12 
 1 
 
 Small 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 n 
 n 
 J 
 
 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 Large. Small. 
 The Duchess Dowager of Northumberland, ... 2 
 
 The Countess Dowager of Eoclen, Hyde Hall, Sawbridgeworth, ] 
 
 The Honorable John Jocelyn, .... 1 
 
 The Honorable Augustus Jocelyn, .... 10 
 
 The Viscountess Middleton, 8, Marlborough Buildings, Bath, 2 
 
 The Honorable Miss Brodrick, .... 2 
 
 Charles Hoare, Esq., Luscomb, Dawlish, ... 1 
 
 Mrs. Jane Eodd, Southernhay, Exeter, ..10 
 
 The Baroness Basset, Tehiddy Park, Cornwall, ..10 
 
 The Misses Wingfield, South LufFenham, Eutland, ..02 
 
 Mrs. Kogers, Penrose Helston, Cornwall, ... 1 
 
 Mrs. Fursdon, Fursdon, Tiverton, Devon, ...-10 
 
 Mrs. Hawkesworth, 10, Camden Place, Bath, ..01 
 
 Lady Eodd, 40, Wimpole Street, London, ... 1 
 
 Miss Straton, Bath, ...... 1 
 
 Miss Stevens, Cockhaven, Teignmouth, ... 1 
 
 The Countess of Eodcn, Hyde Hall, Sawbridgeworth, . 2 
 
 Lieutenant-General Shadforth, Durham, ... 1 1 
 
 Miss Eawlings, Moy, Ireland, .... 1 
 
 James Pollexfen, Esq., ..... 2 
 
 Sheppherd, Esq., 37, Hertford Street, May Fair, . 1 o 
 
 The Honorable Miss Stapleton, Hampton Court, ..01 
 
 Charles Fitzgerald, Esq., 4, Upper Berkeley Street, London, 1 
 
 The Viscount Castlereagh, 25, Chesham Place, London, . 1 
 
 The Viscountess Castlereagh, .... 1 
 
 Sir Walter Farquhar, Bart., Grosvenor Square, London, . 1 
 
 The Lady Mary Farquhar, ..... I 
 
 Lady Farquhar, King Street, St. James', London, ..10 
 
 Miss Farquhar, Do. ... 1 
 
 The Honourable Mrs. Grey, Do. . . . 1 
 
 Colonel Powney, ...... 1 
 
 Mrs. Shaw, Senior, 13, Cambridge Square, London, ..12 
 
 Lady Macleod, 31, Norfolk Crescent, London, ..01 
 
 Mrs. Shaw, 8, Cambridge Square, London, . . .0 1 
 
 Mrs. Ewart, 51, Westbourne Terrace, ... I 
 
 The Baroness Bolton, Hackwood Park, Basingstoke, . 1 
 
 W. S. Davidson, Esq., ..... 1 
 
 Mrs. Davidson, . . . . . .1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERB. 
 
 Miss Davidson, 
 
 Miss H. Davidson, 
 
 Miss E. DaA-idson, 
 
 Mrs. Sperling, 
 
 Harvie Farquhar, Esq., King Street, St. James', London, 
 
 Rev. Daniel Moore, Camberwell, .... 
 
 The Duchess Dowager of Beaufort, Grosvenor Square, London, 
 
 Admiral Hawker, Ashford Lodge, Petersfield, Hants, 
 
 Lady Williams, Do 
 
 Miss Hope, Do 
 
 Mrs. Boyles, Do, 
 
 Eear-Admiral Hope, 
 
 Miss Hawker, 
 
 Sir William Knighton, Bart., 
 
 Dowager Lady Knighton, 
 
 Mrs Seymour, 
 
 Rev. Richard Seymour, 
 
 Mrs. Collins Poore, 
 
 The Duke of Somerset, Park Lane, London, 
 
 The Duchess of Somerset, 
 
 Mrs. Arcedeckne, 1, Grosvenor Square, London, 
 
 The Duchess Dowager of Bedford, Chesterfield House, London, 
 
 Mrs. Dent, Senior, Hertford Street, May Fair, London, 
 
 Mrs, M'Kinnon, Do. 
 
 Robert Trotter, Esq., Twyford, .... 
 
 The Honorable Sir George Grey, Bart., Eaton Place, London, 
 Lady Grey, ....... 
 
 The Marquess of Abercorn, Chesterfield House, London, 
 The Marchioness of Abercorn, .... 
 
 The liady Wriothesley Russell, .... 
 
 The Lady Henry Russell, ..... 
 
 The Countess Ducie, Belgrave Square, London, 
 
 The Earl Jermyn, ...... 
 
 Colonel Borthwick, Georgefield, Langholm, . 
 
 Mrs. Borthwick, ...... 
 
 The Earl of Selkirk, St. Mary's Isle, Kirkcudbright, 
 
 The Lady William Fitzroy, ..... 
 
 The Dowager Lady Bloomfield, Kingscote Park, Gloucestershire, 
 
 No. of 
 Large. 
 
 
 Copies 
 SmaU 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 .') 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Lady Kennaway, Escot Ottery, St. Mary, 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Kingscote, Kingscote, Gloucestershire, 
 
 Mrs. J. E. Gordon, Hadlow House, Tunbridge, 
 
 Mrs. G. Wilder, 37, Grosvenor Place, London, 
 
 The Lady I;epel Phipps, .... 
 
 The Lady Elizabeth Orde, Bushy Park Cottage, Teddington, 
 
 Eev. Allan Cornwall, 37, Grosvenor Place, London, . 
 
 The Bishop of Oxford, Cuddesden Palace, Oxford, 
 
 Mrs. Sargent, Do. 
 
 Rev. T. V. Fosbery, Parsonage, Simningdale, Chertsey, 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Harris, Do. 
 
 The Honorable and Eev. H. Lyttleton, Do. 
 
 The Dean of St. Asaph, 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot, 
 
 The Lady Mary Berkeley, 
 
 Mrs. Gurney Barclay, 
 
 Mrs. George Barclay, 
 
 Mrs. Robert Barclay, 
 
 Joseph Hoare, Esq., Southampton, 
 
 William Hoare, Esq. Do. 
 
 Mrs. William Hoare, Do. 
 
 Mr. Smellie, Langholm, 
 
 Captain Wigram, 
 
 Rev. Leonard Orde, Shoreston Hall, Northumberland, 
 
 Mrs. Baillie, 
 
 Mrs. Stewart, Cally, Gatehouse, 
 
 Miss M. Stewart, 
 
 Miss C. Stewart, 
 
 Miss Honeyman, .5, Maitland Street, Edinburgh, 
 
 Mrs. Thompson, Carmichael, East End, Lanark, 
 
 Lady Lawson, Brayton, Carlisle, 
 
 Miss Lawson, .... 
 
 Miss Waddilove, 9, Doune Terrace, Edinburgh, 
 
 Miss C. Waddilove, 9, Doune Terrace, Edinburgh 
 
 Sir George Musgrave, Bart., Eden Hall, Penrith, 
 
 Lady Musgrave, .... 
 
 Miss Dyott, Torquay, 
 
 St. John's Wood Ladies' Society, 
 
 No. of Copies, 
 Large. Small. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 4 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 
 Captain Madan, 5, Northwick Terrace, St. John's Wood, 
 
 Miss Madan, 2, Northwick Terrace, St. John's Wood, 
 
 Mrs. Pascoe St. Leger Grenfell, Maesteg Houfse, Swansea, 
 
 Mrs. G. Llewellyn, Baglan Hall, Neath, 
 
 Miss Charlotte Stewart, 2, Northwick Terrace, St. John's Wood, 
 
 A sincere Friend, Cally, Gatehouse, 
 
 The Misses Rushout, Bonford House, Tenbury, Worcester, 
 
 Miss Douglas, ..... 
 
 Rev. William Graham, Arthuret, Longtown, 
 
 Sir James Colquhoun, Bart., Rossdhu, Luss, 
 
 Lady Baillie of Polkemmet, Manuel House, Linlithgow, 
 
 Miss Baillie, ..... 
 
 Mrs. Millar of Earnock, . . . . 
 
 Dr. Hill, 
 
 Rev. James Money, 65, Lowndes Square, London, . 
 
 Miss Burdett, 65, Lowndes Square, London, 
 
 R. Boyd, Esq., Plaistow Lodge, • . 
 
 John Deacon, Esq., 4, Portman Square, London, 
 
 Mrs. D. B. Chapman, Roehampton, . 
 
 Miss Scott, Sundridge Park, .... 
 
 J. Strachan, Esq., Teddington, 
 
 Miss Galloway, 18, Upper Harley Street, London, . 
 
 Miss Martin, Keston Rectory, 
 
 J. Colman, Esq., Bickley Park, 
 
 The Countess of Gainsborough, 
 
 Richard Fitzroy Somerset, Esq., Stanhope Street, London, 
 
 Basil T. Woodd, Esq., Thorpe Green, Borobridge, 
 
 Mrs. Basil Woodd, ..... 
 
 Basil George Woodd, Esq., Hillficld, Hampstead, 
 
 Robert B. Woodd, Esq., 4, Devonshire Place, Hampstead, 
 
 Charles H. L. Woodd, Esq., Hillfield, Hampstead, . 
 
 The Viscount Ebrington, Grosvenor Square, London, 
 
 The Lady Howard de Walden, 19, Cavendi.sh Square, London, 
 
 The Lady Willoughby de Eresby, 142, Piccadilly, London 
 
 Mrs. Dampier, CoHnshays, Somerset, 
 
 Miss Dampier, ..... 
 
 Miss E. P. Dampier, ..... 
 
 Miss C. F. Dampier, ..... 
 
 Large. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 2 
 I 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 G 
 6 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 ] 
 
 
 
 
 Small. 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 Large. Small. 
 
 Rev. Charles R. Dampier, Thornford Rectory, Dorset, . 1 
 
 The Lady Harriet Bentinck, 19, Cavendish Square, Londou, 
 
 The Hon. Mrs. Arthur Kinnaird, Hyde Park Gardens, London, 1 
 
 The Hon. Miss Waldegrave, 4, Park Square, Regent Park, London, 
 
 Mrs. Hugh Seymour, 30, Upper Brook Street, London, 
 
 The Honorable Lady Heathcote, Normanton, Oakham, Rutland, 
 
 E. W., by Miss Bentinck, 19, Cavendish Square, London, 
 
 The Dowager Countess Grey, 
 
 Lady Carnegie, Dynevor House, Leamington, 
 
 Miss Carnegie, 
 
 Rev. David Mead, South Brewham, Somerset, 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Lyon, Yeovil, Somerset, 
 
 Miss Lecount, 
 
 Mrs. Eastment, Wincanton, Somerset, 
 
 The Lady Wliarncliffe, 
 
 The Honorable Lady Grey, 14, Eaton Place, 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. F. Calthorpe, . 
 
 Mrs. Frank Noel, Teeston, . 
 
 The Honorable Lady Grey, 7, Seamore Place, 
 
 The Dowager Lady Huntingfield, Grosvenor 
 
 The Earl Bandon, Castle Barnard, Cork, 
 
 The Countess Bandon, 
 
 Mrs. Ridley, Green Hammerton Hall, York, 
 
 Mrs. Empson, Spellow Hill, Boroughbridge, 
 
 Mrs. Boucher, Thornhill, Blandford, Dorset, 
 
 Rev. Robert D. Owen, Boroughbridge, 
 
 Mrs. Charles Pinney, Camp House, Clifton, 
 
 The Count de Villeneuve, Portman Square, London, 
 
 The Countess de Villeneuve, . 
 
 Mrs. Cooper, Dorchester, 
 
 Miss Elizabeth Carnegie, Dynevor House, Leamington, 
 
 Miss Hippesley, 6, Chester Square, London, 
 
 The Countess of Rosebery, 
 
 The Lady Anne Tuffnell, 
 
 Mrs. Scott, Church House, 
 
 The Countess of Zetland, Arlington Street, London, 
 
 The Countess of Clanwilliam, 
 
 The Countess Bruce, 78, Pall Mall, London, 
 
 London 
 
 London, 
 Square, London, 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Scott, Buccleucli Place, Langholm, 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Borthwick, Hopsrig, Langholm, 
 
 The Marchioness of Breadalbane, . . . . 
 
 No. of 
 
 Large. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Small. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Countess of Seafield, . . . . . 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Lord Brougham, Brougham Hall, 
 
 Alexander Borthwick, Esq., Mosspeebles, liangholm, 
 
 Mrs. Borthwick, Westerhall, Langholm, 
 
 The Marquess of Lansdowne, Lansdowne House, London, . 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Duke of Rutland, Belvoir Castle, Rutland, 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 Miss D. Penny, Cambridge Terrace, Regent's Park, London, 
 The Countess Dowager of Craven, 
 
 2 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Lady Katherine Molyneux, 
 
 Charles Grenfell, Esq., .... 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Grenfell, . . . ■ 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Louisa Molyneux, .... 
 The Countess of Eglintoun, Eglintoun Castle, 
 James Fairhairn, Esq., Westerker, Langholm, 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 Hamilton Hamilton, Esq., Brighton, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton Hamilton, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Robert Harington, Esq., West Grange, Edinburgh, . 
 Mrs. Harington, ..... 
 
 A Friend, ...... 
 
 Rev. Dr. Worsley, ..... 
 
 Mrs. "Worsley, ..... 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Alexander Oswald, Esq., Auchincruive, Ayr, 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 The Lady Louisa Oswald, .... 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Westerkirk Parish Library, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Benson, Teddington, .... 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton Forsyth, Clifton, 
 
 Mrs. Filleul, Jersey, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Frederick Wills, Bristol, 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 Mrs. Newnham, Guildford, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Delmar Thompson, .... 
 E. Wilkinson, Esq., ..... 
 
 1 
 t» 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 E. Crompton, Esq., ..... 
 Dr. Roscoe, ...... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Dr. Parish', ...... 
 
 1) 
 
 ' 
 
 Mrs. J. Wilson Croker, .... 
 
 1 
 
 (.1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 
 
 Large. 
 
 Small. 
 
 Lady Barrow, ... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Pinnell, ..... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Gifford, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Major Straith, Addiscombe, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Carleton, through Mrs. Straith, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Blain and Friend, through Mrs. Straith, 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 Basingstoke Book Society, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Eev. Mr. Blatch, Basingstoke, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Rev. Sir J. H. C. Seymoui', Bart., 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Captain Inglefield, R.N., .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 A Friend, through Admiral Hawker, 
 
 
 
 
 William H. Hawker, Esq., .... 
 
 
 
 
 A Friend, through Admiral Hawker, 
 
 
 
 
 Rev. W. G. Sawyer, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 Miss Sawyer, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 Mrs. Arthur Currie, ..... 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. F. G. Cresswell, Grosvenor Square, London, 
 
 
 
 
 Sir John Richardson, Portsmouth, 
 
 
 
 
 J. H. Bulwer, Esq., .... 
 
 ] 
 
 
 Mrs. Bulwer, . . - • . 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Green, ..... 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Hoskins, Gosport, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 Mrs. Kendal, Alverstock, .... 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Larcom, Anglesea, Gosport, 
 
 
 
 
 Lady Bingham, Christchurch, Hants, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Lieutenant T. G. Simpkinson, E.N., 
 
 
 
 
 Rev. Leonard Burrows, Rugby, 
 
 
 
 
 Rev. Dr. Goulburn, Rugby, 
 
 1 
 
 
 J. C. Sharp, Esq., Rugby, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 Miss Parry, Gosport, .... 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Selina Parry, Do. .... 
 
 
 
 
 Lady Stovin, Southampton, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Miss Haynes, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Rev. E. Holland, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Rev. T. Walpole, Alverstoke, Gosport, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Twining, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Honorable Miss Ireby, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 J. ToUemache, Esq., .... 
 
 2 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBEKS. 
 
 Mrs. Harford, Blaize Castle, Bristol, 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 
 Large. Small. 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Young, Eiversdale, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Henry Cholmondeley, 
 
 Colonel Cowell, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Cowell, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lord Colboume, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Colbourne, .... 
 Lady Buxton, ..... 
 Mrs. Fox Chawner, ..... 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mtss Fox Chawner, ..... 
 Mrs. Nicholson, ..... 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 Miss Nicholson, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Stepney Cowell, .... 
 Captain Brock, ..... 
 The Ijady Belhaven, Wishaw, 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Miss Fitzgerald, Bath, .... 
 Miss Glyn, Culver Lodge, Great Hadham, Bishop-Stratford, 
 Miss Amelia Glyn, ..... 
 The Lady Ruthven, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Miss Macdonald, Ramerscalles, 
 
 1 
 
 Lady Amcotts Ingilby, Ripley Castle, 
 
 Miss Brodie, ..... 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. A. P. Thompson, .... 
 Alexander Cowan, Esq., .... 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 The Lady Georgina Bathurst, 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Herbert, Belgrave Square, London, 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Coventry, 
 
 Colonel Philip Dundas, ... 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Bruce of Kennet, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Speirs, Elderslie, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Speirs, Polmont, .... 
 Miss Murray, .... 
 Mr. Forbes of Callender, .... 
 
 1 
 
 1 c 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Charlotte Dundas, 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Abercrombie, Airthrey Castle, Stirling, 
 
 The Honourable Captain Murray, 
 
 Mrs. Horsman, ..... 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Archer Houblon, .... 
 
 1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 
 
 Sir Adam Hay, Bart., .... 
 
 Miss Fergusson, ..... 
 The Honorable Emily Ann Strutt, Witham, Essex, . 
 
 No. of C 
 Large. 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 opies. 
 
 Small. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 Mrs. Marmaduke Wyvill, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 The Dowager Lady Ibbetson, . . . . 
 Mrs. Vans Agnew, Barnbarrock, Wigtown, . 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 Dr. Arbuckle, Do. .... 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Howard of Graystock, . . . . 
 Lady Knatchbull, ..... 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Young, Lincluden, Dumfries, . 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Blair, Portman Square, London, 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Lambert Blair, Do. Do. . 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Stewart of Cairnsmuir, 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. T. V. Poulet, . 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Shawe Taylor, .... 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Vansittart, Bisham Abbey, 
 
 
 
 
 Sir William Davy, Bart., Tracy Park, Bath, . 
 
 
 I) 
 
 Lady Davy, ..... 
 Admiral ICnox, ..... 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Knox, ...... 
 
 
 
 
 Charles Dixon, Esq., .... 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Dixon, ..... 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Ames, 4, Cavendish Place, Bath, 
 
 
 (1 
 
 Mrs. Nevill, ..... 
 
 
 2 
 
 George Finch, Esq., Burley-on-the -Hill, Oakham, 
 The Lady Louisa Finch, .... 
 The Lady Charlotte Denison, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Lady Malcolm, ..... 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 The Misses Malcolm, ..... 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 William Elphinstone Malcolm of Burnfoot, Esq., 
 Miss Malcolm, ..... 
 
 5 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 Miss Stephana Malcolm, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Miss Malcolm, Toddenham, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Lady Maxwell Dowager of Calderwood, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Dirom, Mount Annan, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Rev. G. Butterworth, Henbury, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 William Stirling, Esq., .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Macdonald Macdonald, Esq., 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Miss Milliken, 37, Charlotte Square, Edinburgh, 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 
 Large. Small. 
 
 1 U 
 
 Miss Wright, Do. 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. James Hope, Wardie Lodge, 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Buller Elphinstone, Carberry, . 
 
 1 
 
 James Little, Esq., Carlsgill, Langholm, 
 
 1 
 
 The Countess Granville, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Marmaduke Maxwell, Terregles, Dumfries, 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Stewart Gladstone, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Ewart, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Johnstone, Cowhill, Dumfries, . 
 
 1 
 
 The Marquess of Thomond, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, sen., Georgefield, 
 
 1 
 
 George Maxwell, Esq. of Broomholm, 
 
 1 
 
 Alexander Stevenson, Esq., Langholm, 
 
 1 
 
 The Duchess de Coigny, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. M'Adam Cathcart, 
 
 1 
 
 Lady Stuart of Allan Bank, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Sophia De Vceux, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Walker, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 A Friend, through Miss AValker, 
 
 1 
 
 The Lord Arthur Hervay, Ickworth, Bury St. Edmond, 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Arthur Hervay, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Bax, ...... 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Brotherton, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Robert Garden, Esq. .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Turner, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Turner, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Joseph Clarke, Esq., ..... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Georgina Codrington, Dodington, Chippenham, 
 
 2 
 
 In memory of , .... 
 
 8 
 
 The Viscount Dupplin, .... 
 
 1 
 
 1 The liady Blanche Dupplin, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Duke of Beaufort, Badminton, Gloucester, 
 
 2 
 
 The Duchess of Beaufort, .... 
 
 2 (> 
 
 John L. Dampier, Esq., .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. James Parsons, Drayton-Langport, 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. John Wood, Innwood Lodge, Dorset, 
 
 1 
 
 The Marquess of Worcester, .... 
 
 1 (1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 The Marchioness of "Worcester, 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 
 Large. Small. 
 
 1 
 
 The Earl Howe, . . . 
 
 1 
 
 The (Countess Howe, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Douglas, Rothesay, .... 
 The Earl of Kinnoul, .... 
 The Countess of Kinnoul, .... 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 The Countess of Morton, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Duchess of Athole, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Sir George Sartorius, Bart., West-End-House, London, 
 
 1 
 
 Lady Sartorius, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 Madame de Horta, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Granville Somerset, Cadogan Place, London, 
 
 1 
 
 Miss Somerset, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 The Duke of Argyle, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Countess of Hopetoun, Camden Hill, London, . 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady T. C. Charteris, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lord Elcho, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 The Lady Caroline Courtenay, 
 
 John Wilson, Esq., Bilholm, . . . • . 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Aytoun, Edinburgh, .... 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell of Carruchan, .... 
 
 1 
 
 John Clark of Spedduck, .... 
 
 J. M'Alpine Leny of Dalswinton, 
 
 Sir William Jardine, Bart., Jardine Hall, 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Dunbar, Applegarth, 
 
 The Earl of Roden, Hyde Hall, Sawbridgeworth, 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 John Gibson Lockhart, Esq., Regent Park, . 
 
 1 
 
 The Earl of Shelburne, . . . . . 
 
 I 
 
 The Earl of Derby, St. James' Square, Loudon, 
 
 1 
 
 The Countess of Derby, .... 
 
 1 
 
 The Rev. James Hamilton, Beddington, Croydon, 
 
 2 2 
 
 Mrs. James Hamilton, ..... 
 
 1 2 
 
 Mrs. Spencer Smith, ..... 
 
 2 
 
 Miss Smith, ...... 
 
 1 
 
 A Friend, through Admiral Hawker, 
 
 2 
 
 A Friend, Do. .... 
 William Bonar, Esq., ..... 
 
 2 
 
 1 (1 
 
 Mm. Henry Dundas, ..... 
 
 1 
 
LIST OF SUBSCEIBERS. 
 
 
 Richard Trotter, Esq., Morton-Hall, 
 
 No. of Copie.*. 
 
 Large. Small. 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Smythe, Metliven, 
 Mrs. Everard, Langton-Hall, 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Campbell, .... 
 Mrs. Agar Robartes, 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Pole Carew, 
 
 
 1 
 
 J. F. Bull(!r, Esq. of Mor^'al, 
 
 The Dowager Lady Lyttleton, 
 
 The Duke of Buccleuch, Dalkeith Palace, 
 
 The Duchess of Buccleuch, . 
 
 Miss Surrage, York Place, Clifton, 
 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 2 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Hagart, Bantaskine, Falkirk, . 
 
 
 1 
 
 Lady Dairy mple Fergusson, 
 
 Lady Macpherson Grant of Ballindalloch, 
 
 Mrs. Murray, Polmaise, 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Handy.side, 
 
 Sir Stephen Glynne, Bart., . 
 
 William Sloane Stanley, Esq., Paultons Ram 
 
 Charles Harland, Esq., Sutton Hall, York, 
 
 sey, 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 John Deverell, Esq., Purbrook Park, Portsmouth, 
 
 1 
 
 John M. Quantock, Esq., Norton House, South Petherton, 
 
 1 
 
 Henry Stafford Thompson, Esq., Tanfield, 
 Mrs. Hunter of Thurston, 
 
 
 1 
 
 2 2 
 
 Friends, through Mrs. Hunter, 
 John Forster, Esq., Do. 
 
 
 5 
 1 
 
 J. Temple, Esq., Do. 
 Messrs. Edmonstone and Douglas, 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Smith, through Misses Brotherton, 
 
 J. Bruce Pryce, Esq., 
 
 The Lady Mary Saurin, 
 
 The Lady Louisa Fortescue, . 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Lady Macdonald, 
 
 Lady Kindersley, 
 
 The Marchioness of Bath, Longleat, . 
 
 The Viscount Jocelyn, Kew Green, Kew, 
 
 Archibald W. G oldie, Esq., Edinburgh, 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Duff, Kenmore, 
 
 John Duff, Esq., Birkenhead, 
 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 1 
 
 Professor J. B. Blyth, Cork, . 
 
 
 1 
 
1 "'" "~- 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 
 Copies. 
 Small. 
 
 
 The Duke of Devonshire, Devonshire House, London, 
 
 Ko. of 
 Large. 
 1 
 
 The Lady Catherine Cavendish, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Power, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 n 
 
 Mrs.Winfield 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Earl of Cardigan, .... 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 William Kamsay, Esq., .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Lady Matilda Maxwell, Pollock, Eenfrewshire, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Sir Michael Shaw Stewart, Bart., Belgrave Square, London, 
 
 ') 
 
 
 
 The Countess of Pembroke, 1 Grafton Street, London, 
 
 7 
 
 
 
 The Countess of Dunmore, Dunmore Park, . 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Rev. John Currie Hutton, Dumfries, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Robert Harkness, Esq., Dumfries, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 H. H. the Princess Marie of Baden, Marchioness of Douglas 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 The Rev. Charles Watson, Langholm, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Langholm Library, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 WilHam Carlyle, Esq. M.D., Langholm, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Baron de Tuyll, ..... 
 
 0' 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Walker, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Colhns, Clifton Reynes, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Collins Wood, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Duchess of Sutherland, Sutherland House, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Viscountess Blantyre, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Marchioness of Kildare, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Marchioness of Stafford, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Bridges, Henstridge Vicarage, Dorset, . 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Fennell, Castle Cary, Somerset, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Mitchell, .... 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Richard J. Thompson, Esq., Kirby Hall, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Misses Thompson, Do., 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Lewis, Zeals, Wincanton, 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Mrs. Stirling, Linlathen, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Miss Lennox, Lennox Castle, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Miss Cathcart, ..... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 The Dowager Lady Grey, through Mrs. Harington, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart., 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Davies, Dumfries, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Howat, Dumfries, .... 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Leycester, Toft-Hall, Cheshire, 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Charles Cowan, Valleyfield, . . 
 
 1 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCKIBEUS. 
 
 Miss Hamilton, 
 
 Mrs. C. Bennett, 
 
 Mrs. Matheson, 
 
 Mrs. Halliday, 
 
 Mrs. Taylor, 
 
 Captain A. C. Eobertson, Edinburgh, 
 
 Mrs. Carruthers of Dormont, 
 
 A. Skirving, Esq. of Croyes, 
 
 The Lady Mary Monck, 
 
 Mrs. Johnstone, .... 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell of Munshes, 
 
 Herries, Esq. of Spotts, 
 
 Miss Burnet, .... 
 
 William Cunningham, Esq., Logan House, Ayrshire, 
 
 Miss Young, Rothesay, 
 
 Mrs. Eobert Taylor, 
 
 Two Friends, through Mrs. Gilbert, 
 
 Sheriff Trotter, Dumfries, 
 
 The Eev. Dr. Wilson, 
 
 Miss Cotton, through Mrs. James Crabb, 
 
 No. of Copies. 
 Large. Small. 
 
 Mrs. C. Davies, 
 Mrs. Herring, 
 Mrs. James Crabb, 
 Mrs. Hutchins, 
 Mr. Aubrey, 
 Mrs. Adkins, 
 Mr. Taylor Dore, 
 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 
 Messrs. Forbes and Marshall, Do. 
 
 Mr. Dowman, Do. 
 
 Mr. Cooksey, Do. 
 
 Mr. Sharland, Do. 
 
 Mrs. F., Do. 
 
 Mrs. Dashper, Do. 
 
 Mr. Lancaster, Do. 
 
 Mr. Caplen, Do. 
 
 Messrs. Lury, Do> 
 
 A Friend, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Allen, Do. 
 
 The Rev. Wm. Orger, Do. 
 
 Southampt 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 Do. 
 
 1 
 1 
 T 
 3 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mrs. G. Wheeler, through Mrs. James Crabb, Southampton, 
 
 A. B., Do. Do. 
 
 Mrs. Jeffries, Hollybrook Farm, 
 
 J. G. Turnbull, Esq., 
 
 Mrs. Mitford, Hunmanby Hall, through Lady Jardine, 
 
 The Rev. A. Crowdy, Northwall, Winchester, 
 
 Mrs. Hardy, 
 
 Henry Egerton, Esq., 
 
 T. H. Young, Esq., . 
 
 F. H. Brooks, Esq., . 
 
 J. E. Walters, Esq., . 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Longman, 
 
 Mrs. Tyndale, 
 
 Lady Prendergast, 
 
 A Friend, 
 
 Mrs. Blamire, 35, Upper Harley Street, 
 
 Miss Ackland, Tenby, South Wales, 
 
 Miss Hodgson, Teddington, Middlesex, 
 
 Mrs. AVhite, Doncaster, 
 
 Mrs. Scobell, Kingwell Hall, Bath, . 
 
 Venerable Archdeacon Law, Rectory, Weston-super-! 
 
 Captain Shipton, R.N., Manor House, Windover, 
 
 Miss Long, Weston-super-Mare, 
 
 Miss Oliphant, Do. 
 
 Marquise de Sesmaison, 
 
 Mrs. Taylor, 1, Percy Street, Liverpool, 
 
 Mrs. George Duncan, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Robert Macfie, Do. 
 
 J. H. Holberton, Esq., Teddington, Middlesex, 
 
 Lady De Tabley, Tabley, Cheshire, 
 
 Mr. M'Kellar, Rothesay, 
 
 Major Douglas, Rothesay, 
 
 Miss A. Dent, Hertford Street, May Fair, Tjondon, 
 
 Miss R. Jardine, 
 
 The Baroness North, . 
 
 George Fortescue, Esq., 
 
 The Lord Dudley Stuart, 
 
 Mrs. Graham, Edmond Castle, 
 
 N. Bridges, Esq., 
 
 Mare, 
 
 No. OfC 
 Large. 
 
 1 
 
 opies. 
 
 Sma 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 €> 
 
xDxinbar, 
 ana l/lariaa 
 -Arfe-^and 
 
 Italian sky, 
 
 li Brgftre"t Juli- 
 na l ture under a kr 
 
 M216948 L 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY