NAPLES.
CHAP X. Of the Two Calabrias.
FROM Tarento ſouthward, run the provinces of the Calabrias, which compriſe that whole penin⯑ſula, called the foot of Italy, from its reſembling the foot, as the Terra di Otranto does the heel, and is ſo called on that account. The country extends from latitude 40, to below 38, and is that part of Naples which ſuffered ſo much by an earthquake.
At the mouth of the river Baſiento, near Terre di Mare, a town in ruins, built by the Angevino kings, as a ſafeguard to the coaſt, are two rows of coarſe marble columns, that mark the ſituation of Metapon⯑tum; ten in one row, and five in the other; their [4] diameter, five feet; their height, ſixteen feet; the in⯑terſtices ten feet: they are of the ancient Doric order. Theſe are all the veſtiges of Metapontum; a city which, two thouſand years ago, ſtood in the ſkirts of a plain, twenty-five miles in length, and was in the zenith of its glory. Pythagoras ſpent the laſt years of his life here. The Metapontines were warm parti⯑zans of Hannibal. He made this city his head quar⯑ters; and, in the retreat of the Carthaginians, it was puniſhed by the Romans, for its attachment to Han⯑nibal, with its loſs of liberty. This whole diſtrict was a colony of induſtrious and wealthy farmers; and there cannot be a ſight more mortifying to the pride of man, than this wide ſtretched tract of land, almoſt without an inhabitant, full of briars and marſhes, and ſtagnant pools; and, inſtead of navigable rivers, in whoſe deep and capacious boſom, whole fleets might moor with ſafety, the Baſianto road, has the appear⯑ance of a ſtraggling torrent; impeded by ſand-banks, that ſhift at every ſhower, and drive the waters back over half the plain, keeping them there to pu⯑trify.
At the wood near the banks of the Agri, eleven miles more to the South, and about three miles from the ſea, are ſome heaps of rubbiſh, that fix the ſitu⯑ation of Heraclea; and near the mouth of the Linno, ſtood the city of Tyris, founded by the Trojans, and [5] renowned for its college of prieſts, ſkilled in cabaliſ⯑tic lore. Heraclea was the place of rendezvous, agreed on by the whole Greek confederacy, where their ge⯑neral intereſts and diſputes were to be ſettled.
Upper Calabria, ſays Swinburne, ſeems decreaſing in its number of people; owing, as it is ſuppoſed, to the cuſtom of the Calabrians never marrying beyond the limits of their own townſhip. Farms are here let for two years only; indeed, the Baians conſider little but their own pleaſure, and keep the lands waſte, for the ſake of extending their chace; ſo that the pea⯑ſants, their vaſſals, have neither room nor opportu⯑nity, to raiſe ſufficient food for their ſupport; they fly, therefore, to the convents, and take the religious habit. And the father of a family, when preſſed for payment of taxes, and ſinking beneath the load of hunger and diſtreſs, va alla montagna, that is, retires to the woods; where he meets with fellow ſufferers, turns ſmuggler, and becomes, by degrees, an outlaw, robber, and an aſſaſſin.
The women here breed faſt, and bring forth their offspring almoſt without a pain. It is a common thing for a woman, pregnant with child, to go up to the foreſt for fuel, to be there ſurpriſed with the pains of childbirth, to deliver herſelf without diſmay, and fold up her infant in her apron; and, after a little reſt, [6] return to her cottage. Che una ſerva Calabreſe piu ama far un figlio che un bucato, is a proverb much in uſe in the neighbouring provinces; that is, "A Calabrian maid-ſervant prefers the labour of a childbirth, to that of a waſh."
The territory of Roſetta produces olives, capers, corn, ſafforn, and cotton. The mountains abound with fine oak timber, fit for ſhipping; and the woods are well ſtocked with game. Calabria is too hilly to admit of hunting. All game is brought down by the gun, or taken in the net. They have an exceeding good ſpaniel; ſo good, that the king has taken pains to increaſe the breed. The lower parts of the moun⯑tains abound with the Ormus, or ſmall-leaved flower⯑ing Manna-aſh, which grows ſpontaneouſly. About the end of July, the manna-gatherers make a horizon⯑tal gaſh in the bole of a tree, inclining upwards; as the liquor never oozes out the firſt day, another cut is given on the ſecond, and then the woodman fixes the the ſtalk of a maple leaf in the upper wound, and the end of the leaf in the lower one, ſo as to form a cup to receive the gum, as it oozes from each cut. All manna belongs to the king, who farms it to a ſet of contractors.
All live animals in Calabria are taxed; another check on huſbandry; three ſhillings a year are paid [7] for an ox. Arable land is here ploughed four times; the firſt in May, but the work is badly done. They never lay down their lands with artificial graſſes; but a Calabrian farmer thinks he does his farm ample juſtice, if he lets it lie barren three or four years, and cover itſelf with natural graſs.
The roads through Calabria are very bad; there is but here and there an inn, and at theſe the accommo⯑dations are very poor. Thoſe who travel this coun⯑try muſt proceed on horſeback, and get recom⯑mended from city to city. At Roſſaro, Swinburne ſays, there was an encampment of zingari, or gypſies, who are great thieves. The gypſies of Calabria do not mix with the other people; they marry among themſelves. They have no fixed place of abode, but carry their tents with them, and pitch them where they pleaſe. They ſupport themſelves by little handi⯑crafts; and by ſwopping, or trucking, aſſes and horſes. Their chief work is in making trivets, knitting needles, bodkins, and the like, in iron. Their dreſs is poor; they ſhave their faces, but let their hair grow very long. At their weddings they carry torches, and have para-nymphs to give the bride away. They are ac⯑counted to be great pilferers, cheats; and to be faith⯑leſs, ſhameleſs, and abandoned to all manner of diſſo⯑luteneſs. The following anecdote will ſhew how little [8] they are under the controul of modeſty, or fear of ſhame.
A gang of gypſies aſſembled at a fair, with an in⯑tention of robbing the ſhops; for which purpoſe, a proper number of them were diſperſed in the throng, to draw off the attention of the people from their pro⯑perty. Some of theſe men and women went into the adjacent fields, and proceeded to ſuch indecent liberties, as ſoon brought moſt of the people of the fair about them, and left their ſhops a prey to the confident thieves. They tell fortunes, and play jug⯑gling tricks, as they do in all other countries where they are tolerated. A gypſey, being brought to Nice for larceny, declared, that his law allowed him to take from others, as much every day as ſufficed for his maintenance. They ſpeak here an oriental jargon of their own; and one of the moſt intelligent among them, being aſked, why their nation was a wandering one? replied, they could not remain long in one place, without being over-run with lice. Their pro⯑penſity to breed vermin proceeds from their exceſſive filthineſs; they ſleep like dogs in a kennel, men, women, and children, and take up no more room when aſleep, than if in their graves.
In Calabria, all the oxen are white, large, and long horned, except thoſe of the red breed, lately intro⯑duced [9] into Sicily. Their buffaloes are black; ſo are moſt of the goats, ſheep, and hogs. Their hogs have no hair, but are as ſleek in their hides as the elephant. Dormice are here accounted delicate game, as they were in ancient Rome, where they were kept in war⯑rens, and fatted for the tables of the epicures. The Calabrian horſes are pretty ſpirited, and brilliant in their motions; but are low, and ſeldom free from vice; but will travel two hundred and fifty miles in five days, in hot weather.
Croton, the Greek city, whoſe walls encloſed a cir⯑cumference of twelve miles, and alone furniſhed ſuc⯑cour to the mother-country, when invaded by the Perſians, is now but a ſmall place, and bears the name of Crotone; and no veſtiges of the ancient city re⯑main. Near Crotone is an iſland, conſidered as the habitation of Calypſo, but is a rock ſcarcely able to feed a ſheep.
There are ſome cuſtoms in Calabria, that explain ſome alluſions in Horace. When he ſays, "Death treads, with impartial foot, the doors of palaces and of cottages."
[10]He alludes to a cuſtom now exiſting, that of the bailiff kicking furiouſly at the door of a debtor, or tenant, that refuſes to pay, and ſhuts himſelf up in his houſe for ſafety; which implies, that he means to give no quarter. So Horace means, that death is in⯑exorably bent in exacting the debt of nature. His account of the hardy education, and filial obedi⯑ence of the Roman youth,
Is ſtill exact with reſpect to the young Calabrian pea⯑ſant. After hoeing the ground all day, with no better fare than bread and water, and an onion; he does not preſume to preſent himſelf before his mother, without bringing her a faggot, or ſome other wood. His ani⯑mated deſcription of a mother, longing for the return of her ſon,
May ſtill be applied to the Calabrian matrons. If the feluccas do not appear at the uſual term of their an⯑nual voyage; the mothers, and wives of the ſailors, offer up inceſſant prayers, call on the beloved perſon by name, and remain at their windows, with eyes [11] fixed on the cape, which the bark is to double. The inſtant a boat is ſeen coming round the point, the whole town reſounds with joyful cries of Barca! Barca! The boys ring the bells; and, as ſoon as they can diſtinguiſh what felucca it is, run to the relations to claim ſomething to drink for the good news.
Caſtelvetere, in a lofty ſituation, three miles from the ſea, occupies the ſcite of Caulon, of which ſome veſtiges are ſaid to exiſt. Caulon was one of the earlieſt Greek ſettlements, but demoliſhed by Diony⯑ſius, four hundred years before Chriſt. Swinburne tells us, that when he was in this neighbourhood, he joined a crowd one evening, that was dragging a woman to church, in order to have the devil driven out of her, by exorciſm. She was a middle-aged perſon, and ſeemed to be in ſtrong convulſions, which every one ſuppoſed to proceed from a demoniacal poſſeſſion. The prieſt refuſing to attend, ſome of the aſſiſtants grew impatient, and pulled the woman about ſo roughly, that Beelzebub thought proper to decamp. The patient recovered her ſenſes, got up, and ran away full ſpeed; ſo that it appeared, there was more roguery in her caſe, than real diſorder. All convul⯑ſions of this kind are, however, attributed to aſſaults of malignant ſpirits. Near fifteen hundred women, pretending to be thus tormented, go up annually to Soriano, to be cured, by looking at a portrait of St. [12] Dominick, ſent down, as they ſuppoſe, from Heaven. Under theſe pretexts, they obtain leave of their ty⯑rannical ſpouſes, to make this pleaſant pilgrimage, and a pair of holiday ſhoes for the purpoſe; without which they dare not appear before the picture. A prieſt of that convent, ſays Swinburne, told me a ſtory of a female demoniac, who, after going through the uſual courſe of cure, was ſent to him to confeſs her ſins. Being perfectly well acquainted with the com⯑mon tricks, he ordered her to give him the true rea⯑ſon of her acting that farce, threatening her in caſe of obſtinacy, with a viſit from a real devil, who would torment her in good earneſt. The poor woman ter⯑rified at the menace, freely confeſſed; that, having been married againſt her inclinations to a goat-herd, who ſtank intolerably of his goats and cheeſes, ſhe ſhunned his approach, and feigned demoniac poſ⯑ſeſſion, to avoid cohabiting with him. Having thus got the ſecret from her, the prieſt, in hopes of alle⯑viating her misfortune, ſent for her huſband, and knowing it would be in vain to urge him out of a be⯑lief of the devil's being in his wife, planned a diffe⯑rent mode of attack, and informed the ſimple fellow, that he had diſcovered what particular kind of ſpirit it was; that this demon was remarkable for an out⯑rageous antipathy to goat-herds, and that no exorciſms could prevent him from plaguing him. The poor man, whoſe firſt profeſſion had been gardening, and [13] whoſe ſucceſs in the other line of buſineſs had not been very great, readily conſented to his old way of labour, in order to keep Satan from his houſe, The friar procured a garden for him, and a chapman for his herd of goats, and ſoon had the happineſs of ſeeing the married couple well ſettled, and perfectly ſatis⯑fied with each other.
It is remarkable that the Albanian dialect, in Cala⯑bria, has many Engliſh words, bearing the ſame mean⯑ing as with us; as for example, aunt, boor, breeches, breaſt, car, chimney, chide, cough, crab, door, dream, feather, grumble, hunger, and many others. Theſe people are ſettled in Calabria, and emigrated from Albanie, only a few centuries ago: they amount to, at leaſt, 100,000, and are diſperſed in two hundred villages, or towns; but, many of theſe ſettlements are wretchedly poor, and much decayed; thoſe in the neighbourhood of Bova remarkably ſo. They are a quiet induſtrious people, and their women remarkable for regularity of conduct. In their dreſs they pre⯑ſerve the coſtume of Illyricum, from whence their forefathers came. The moſt beautiful women are generally given in marriage to clergymen, and are exceedingly proud of their huſbands; for, among them, prieſthood is the higheſt nobility. When an eccleſiaſtic dies, his widow never enters into a ſecond engagement, becauſe none but a virgin can aſpire to [14] the hand of a prieſt, and any other is beneath her acceptance.
Reggio is the capital of Lower Calabria, an arch⯑biſhopric, and is ſituated on the ſea-coaſt, at the Southern extremity of Italy, and adjoins the Faro, or ſtreights of Meſſina. The approach to this place is charming, every cottage of the ſuburb being ſhaded with a beautiful arbour of vines, and loaded with cluſters of grapes, that produce a very good ſort of wine. Oranges, and their kindred fruits, reach great perfection in theſe plains, which are ſaid to be the firſt ſpot in Italy, where their culture was attempted. They are found to be much hardier than was at firſt ſuſ⯑pected; many large plantations thriving at the foot of the Appenines, twenty miles from the ſea; where, in winter, there is froſt enough to congeal water. The Reggians trade with the Genoeſe, in eſſence of citron, orange and bergamot. This ſpirit is extracted, by paring off the rind of the fruit with a broad knife, ſqueezing the peel with wooden pincers, againſt a ſponge, and when the ſponge is full, it is ſqueezed out into a phial, and ſold at five ſhillings and ſixpence Engliſh per ounce.
The country, round Reggio, is a rich delicious gar⯑den, ſhaded by groves, and avenues of poplars and mulberry-trees; divided by hedges of pomegranates, [15] incloſing vineyards and orchards of orange, citron, and various other kinds of aromatic fruits. Copious ſtreams meander through theſe agreeable plains, and diſtribute life and vigour to every plant.
The exportation of oil brings into Lower Calabria, half a million of ducats yearly. On each ſide of the wood, are houſes erected for ſilk-worms, on a par⯑ticular conſtruction. The windows are long, and not more than ſix inches wide, to prevent too much air being admitted at a time. When the eggs are about to hatch, theſe windows are ſhut, and a moderate fire kept up in the rooms. The worms, as ſoon as out, are placed on beds of reeds, and there fed with the leaves of the red mulberry-tree. Theſe houſes are built by the people of Reggio, who furniſh every thing, and take two-thirds of the profits.
Figs here have a fine flavour, and the firſt, ever ſeen in Italy, was brought from Sicily, by Dionyſius the tyrant, and planted in his garden at Reggio. The hills, that ſkirt the great chain of mountains, abound with cheſnut-trees, producing a very large, ſweet fruit, which the people dry, grind, knead into a paſte, and uſe inſtead of bread.
Between Reggio and Scylla, a ſilver-mine was opened by the preſent King of Spain; but, the vein [16] dipping towards the ſea, and in a rock, the expences would be more than the profits; of courſe, it was abandoned.
Reggio can neither boaſt of beautiful buildings, nor ſtrong fortifications. Of all edifices, the Gothic cathedral is the only ſtriking one. There is plenty of freſh water here; wherever a hole is made in the ſands, though within a foot of the ſea, freſh water bubbles up. The views all around are enchanting. Meſſina riſes out of the waves like a grand amphitheatre; and the Faro, or ſtreight, lined with villages and towns, ſeems a noble view, winding between two bold ſhores. Sometimes, though very rarely, Swinburne ſays, it exhibits a very curious phe⯑nomenon, called La Fata Morgana, as if produced by a fairy, or magician. The populace are delighted, whenever the viſion appears, and are ſeen about the ſtreets, ſhouting for joy. The philoſophic reader will find its cauſes and operations accounted for, in Kircher, Minais, and other authors. Father Angelucci was the firſt perſon who deſcribed the appearance with any accuracy.
On the 15th of Auguſt, 1643, as I ſtood at my win⯑dow, ſays he, I was ſurpriſed with a moſt wonderful de⯑lectable viſion. The ſea, that waſhes the Sicilian ſhore, ſwelled up, and became, for ten miles in length, like a chain of dark mountains; whilſt the waters, near our Calabrian coaſt, grew quite ſmooth, and in an inſtant, [17] appeared as one clear poliſhed mirror, reclining againſt the aforeſaid ridge. On this glaſs was depicted, in chiaro obſcuro, a ſtring of ſeveral thouſands of pi⯑laſters, all equal in altitude, diſtance, and degree of light and ſhade. In a moment, they loſt half their height, and bent into arcades, like Roman aqueducts. A long cornice was next formed on the top; and above it roſe caſtles innumerable, all perfectly alike. Theſe ſoon ſplit into towers, which were ſhortly after loſt in colonades, then windows; and at laſt ended in pines, cypreſſes, and other trees, even and ſimilar. This is the Fata Morgana, which, for twenty-ſix years, I con⯑ſidered as a fable.
To produce this pleaſing deception, ſays Swinburne, many circumſtances muſt concur, which are not known to exiſt in any other ſituation. The ſpectator too muſt be particularly ſituated. The winds muſt be huſhed, the ſurface of the Faro quite ſmooth, the tide at its height, and the waters preſſed by currents, to great elevation in the middle of the channel. All theſe events coinciding, as ſoon as the ſun riſes to a cer⯑tain height, every object exiſting or moving at Reggio, will be repeated a thouſand-fold on this ma⯑rine looking-glaſs; and, as the day advances, each image will paſs rapidly off in ſucceſſion.
[18]Tropea is the next city of note, travelling North⯑ward on the coaſt of Calabria, from Reggio to Naples. It is a biſhop's ſee, containing about four thouſand people. It derives its name, ſays Swinburne, from the trophies erected by Scipio, in his triumphant re⯑turn from Carthage; or from thoſe of Sextus Pompeius, after his naval victory, off the neighbouring cape. It is ſituated on the point of a lofty rock, hanging over the ſea, and joined to the main land by an iſthmus; almoſt cut through at the gates, leaving only a nar⯑row paſſage to the town. A little to the North is a large iſland, kept as a paſture for ſheep, and a ſmall one, with a hermitage on its ſummit, moſt roman⯑tically ſituated. They have a pleaſing effect from Tropea.
The ſtreets of the town are narrow, the houſes high, and built of ſtone, with great ſolidity. It has two gates; one towards the Nile that riſes from the bay; and the other along the iſthmus, leading to a high plain; in which there is a pleaſant walk near two miles in length, and half a mile broad, between the ſea and chain of mountains; ſo ſteep and rugged, as ſeems to cut off all communication by land, with the reſt of Calabria. The whole flat, and the ſides of the hills, yield grapes, mulberries, olives, pulſe, and vegetables; and garden fruit in great plenty. Copious ſtreams ruſh from the mountain; and, after watering the [19] orchards, are collected into one body, and turn a number of mills. The water is conveyed, in a chan⯑nel, to the edge of a high precipice over the mill, there received into a ſtone well, from whence it falls a con⯑ſiderable height upon an over-ſhot wheel; and, having turned this, is again collected for a ſecond mill in a ſimilar way, and thus turns many, before it reaches the ſands. Some of theſe caſcades, as they fall through arbours of vines, and groves of orange-trees, are exceedingly beautiful. The wealthy inhabitants of Tropea reſide within the walls; huſbandmen, and labourers dwell on the outſkirts, on the land they cultivate.
Two miles Eaſt of this town is Paralia; a village inhabited by manufacturers and mariners; who make cotton blankets, and carry them in their own barks to Marſeilles and Genoa.
Strombolo, a volcano, on an iſland ſixteen leagues Weſt of this coaſt, on our way to Naples, is con⯑tinually throwing up flames; and yet the place is in⯑habited by fiſhermen, who watch their opportunities, for a quiet moment, to paſs along the ſtrand, or they would otherwiſe be buried under a ſhower of red-hot ſtones.
Strombolo is one of the Lipari iſlands, and a moun⯑tain about ten miles round, riſing ſuddenly from the [20] ſea, and is more lofty than Veſuvius, only not ſo co⯑nical: in clear weather, it is diſcoverable at twenty-five leagues diſtance, at ſea; and at night its flames are to be ſeen much farther; ſo that the viſible hori⯑zon, ſeen from the top, cannot be leſs than five hun⯑dred miles; of courſe, it is of great elevation. It is wonderful, that this volcano has been continually burning, for more than a thouſand years. It is the lighthouſe of the whole coaſt, whoſe fires are never extinguiſhed. This is the iſland, ſuppoſed by Virgil, to be the habitation of Aeolus. Indeed, all the Lipari iſlands were called Aeolian. Being full of vaſt ca⯑verns, ſays Bridone, roaring with internal fires; the poets feigned, that Aeolus here kept the winds priſoners, and let them out at his pleaſure.
The forge of Vulcan too has been ſuppoſed, by the poets, to be placed in Hiera, one of theſe iſlands. Virgil ſends him here, to make the celeſtial armour for Aeneas, and gives a noble deſcription of this gloomy habitation, where he found the Cyclops buſy forging a thunderbolt for Jupiter; the account of which is very ſingular.
This iſland is now called Volcano. All the Lipari iſlands bring no inconſiderable revenue to the King of Naples. They produce great quantities of allum, ſulphur, nitre, cinnabar, and moſt ſorts of fruits; particularly raiſins, currants, and figs, in great perfec⯑tion. Some of their wines are alſo much eſteemed, particularly the Malvaſia, well known all over Europe. The iſle of Lipari, from which the reſt take their name, is by much the largeſt, and moſt fertile.
It is bad travelling in the province of Calabria; the poſt-houſes not being obliged to keep more than three horſes, travellers find it difficult to get on. The country round Tropea reſembles a park, being quite open, but ſhaded with irregular avenues and ſtrag⯑gling clumps of olive-trees, large enough to cut for timber. Monteleone is a conſiderable town, on the brow of a hill, ſituated in this open country. The barons caſtle occupies the higheſt part, embowered in ever-greens; the town covers the reſt of the ſlope in a very happy manner. The proſpects are enchant⯑ing, the vales covered with wood, and a fine river winds its way through them: the diſtant mountains, darkened with extenſive foreſts, and leſſer hills at their [22] feet, ſwelling into view, and interſected by number⯑leſs glens, from the boſom of which riſes the ſmoke of many ſequeſtered villages. Monteleone contains three pariſhes, twelve religious houſes, and thirteen thouſand people. The ſcenes, and environs of this place, equal in beauty the moſt delightful ſpots in Sicily; and, on the whole, has greatly the advantage over that iſland in its general aſpect.
This country ſeems to be ſtocked with ſwine. Swinburne ſays, he ſaw many very large herds, at⯑tended by one or two herdſmen, who led them on by the ſound of a great bagpipe. He is per⯑ſuaded, that the preſent Calabrian ſwineherds, are the exact copies of the ancient ones; and, that their mode of managing theſe ſtubborn animals, has been tranſ⯑mitted down by a regular tradition. The hogs are well acquainted with their herdſman's note; and if, by accident, two or three herds ſhould meet together, the ſound of each herd's bagpipe, will immediately ſeparate them.
The Calabrian accent is very different from the Sicilian; being more guttural, and fuller of aſpira⯑tions.
Paula is a town, on the Weſtern coaſt of South Ca⯑labria, not a great way from the city of Coſenza, re⯑nowned [23] for being the birth-place of St. Francis, the founder of the order of Minims. He was a peaſant's ſon, and became the favourite ſaint, and patron of his native country. The Calabrians have ſtill a great confidence in his mediation with our Saviour; but their mode of applying to him is extraordinary. They approach his ſtatue, with reverential awe, holding in both hands an aſs's halter; this they ſuddenly throw over the head of the ſtatue; and, after fixing the ſlip⯑knot with a ſmart pull, repeat their petition, and leave the rope. Swinburne ſays, there was two hundred pounds weight of rope on his ſhoulders when he ſaw it. St. Francis kept a ſmall ſtock of pigeons, for the uſe of the infirmary which he founded; and, as they are ſeldom killed for that purpoſe, and held as ſacred, by all the neighbourhood; theſe birds have, in the courſe of near three centuries, increaſed incredibly, and are great nuiſances. Some farmers go ſo far as to ſow plots of ground for them, and this from a ſelfiſh view; being perſuaded, that theſe pigeons have too much honour to meddle with any ſeed but what is allotted them, unleſs ſuch proviſion be not made for them.
Coſenza is an archbiſhopric, the reſidence of the governor of the province; was the capital of the Brutian ſtate, and of ſome conſequence during the ſecond Punic war. The Saracens reduced it to aſhes [24] in the tenth century; but it ſoon recovered from the calamity. Louis the Third, of Anjou, died here in 1434, and was buried in the cathedral.
It is pleaſantly ſituated, at the Southern extremity of a ſpacious plain, twenty miles along the river Crati, very broad, and about twelve miles from the Medi⯑terranean ſea. The city ſtands upon ſeven hills. From an ancient caſtle, on the higheſt of the ſeven hills, the proſpect is very grand over the mountains, on three ſides, and down the plain on the other.
There is a great difference in the dreſs and man⯑ners of the two Calabrias. The people of South Ca⯑labria reſemble the Sicilians; and, like them, the men wear bonnets: North of Regliagno, the boundary of the two provinces, hats are univerſally worn. It has been remarked that the Sicilians, even now, betray ſtrong marks in their character, of their ancient con⯑nections with the Africans; and the North Calabreſe of German ſolidity, ariſing from colonies tranſplanted there by the Swabian princes; and, in the South Ca⯑labreſe, the Neapolitans are evident traces of Gre⯑cian manners, and turn of mind; but more ſo in the latter.
Though Calabria is ſtigmatiſed with diſhoneſty, and ſuppoſed to be over-run with banditti, they are [25] certainly honeſt to each other; for their doors have neither bars, nor bolts; and, during the abſence of the maſter, the houſe is left to the mercy of every paſſenger.
CHAP. XI. Of their Amuſements, and Mode of Travelling.
WE have given ſome of the amuſements of this country, when ſpeaking of Naples, but there ſtill remain ſome few to be treated of, particularly the Carnival.
The Carnival is a feſtival that precedes Lent, or the time of faſting; and is pretty general throughout Italy. It begins on St. Charles's day, and continues till Lent. All this time the city of Naples is very gay, with the cuſtomary amuſements of operas, balls, maſquerades, &c. terminating with horſe-races in the Strada Toledo; and, ſometimes, with a royal maſque⯑rade proceſſion of the Grand Signior to Mecca, which is a moſt magnificent ſpectacle. The barbarous Co⯑cagna, [26] in which a prodigious number of calves, ſheep, hogs, lambs, and poultry, were aſſembled every Sun⯑day, in carnival-time, to be torn in pieces by the po⯑pulace, is now diſcontinued; and, of courſe, ought not to be related.
There are three Conſervatories in Naples, for the education of boys in the profeſſion of muſic. Theſe furniſh a band for the church of Franciſcans, morning and evening, during eight days in October. The octaves, indeed, or eight days following the feſtival of the patron-ſaint of every church, are a continual ſo⯑lemnity, at which the fineſt voices, and beſt performers attend, both morning and evening; and the churches at Naples are ſo numerous, that the octaves make one continued entertainment throughout the year. At the feſtival of Corpus Chriſti, the richeſt churches en⯑groſs the whole opera, voices, inſtruments, machines, and decorations.
To give me an idea of this ſpectacle, ſays Groſley, I was told that the ſantiſſimo, being carried up on clouds almoſt to the roof of the church of the Jeſuits, deſcends of itſelf, for the benediction; making its way through the clouds, which ſeparate; and, receiving in its paſ⯑ſage the veneration of angels, and other beings, part of whom leave their ſtations to attend on it. What can the Greeks think, at the fight of ſpectacles like [27] theſe; they, who have no better way of keeping the Euchariſt, than in a leather purſe, hung up againſt the wall, in the ſacriſty of their churches?
The common people of Naples are very devout, or rather ſuperſtitious. Next to St. Gennaro, their patron ſaint, the Madonnas, which are frequent in the ſtreets, ſeem moſt to attract their attention. On Chriſtmas-eve they play off fire-works the whole night. Indeed, at Chriſtmas-time, all quarters of Naples re⯑ſound with Paſtorali, or Siciliane; a kind of ſimple, rural muſic, performed by Abruzzeſe, or Calabrian ſhepherds, on a ſpecies of bagpipes. The tunes vary according to the provinces. In the South, they have three different airs; the Northern ſhepherds know only two; to which they add ſuch variations, as their own genius inſpires. The boys learn of their fathers, to play on this inſtrument, as the means of ſubſiſtance. At other ſeaſons, it is rare, ſays Swinburne, to hear any agreeable ſounds in the ſtreets of Naples, though it is the nurſery of muſical profeſſors. There is no ſuch thing as a national muſic, unleſs we give that name to a monotanous, dralling ſeguidilla, uſed by the nurſes to lull children to ſleep, and ſeems borrowed from the Spaniards, who learnt it of the Moors.
They do not even dance to muſic, but perform the tarantella, which is a low dance; conſiſting of turns on [28] the heel, much footing and ſnapping of the fingers. Indeed, perſons of all ranks here dance very low, but mark the time as perfectly with their ſteps, as other nations do by ſpringing from the ground. The taran⯑tella dance is the delight of their ſoul, and a conſtant holiday diverſion of the young women.
Bull-baiting is a common diverſion; there is a large ſquare at Naples, walled in for the purpoſe. Hunting is laid aſide; but gentlemen, throughout the country, hunt hares, foxes, and ſometimes wild boars, with hounds, or lurchers, and ſometimes with both. In autumn, fowlers uſe nets, ſpringes, or bird-lime, to take birds; and in winter, guns. All the country is free to thoſe who buy the king's licence, except ſome few encloſures, where the barons endeavour to preſerve the game. A licence for fowling in the plains of Naples, with bird-calls, coſts ten carlines a year; in the plains and woods, twenty-four, and ſixty with nets. At a diſtance from the capital, it is only four carlines. Calabria is too hilly for hunting, all game is brought down by the gun, or taken in nets.
The road, from Rome to Naples, is bad enough, ſays Sharp, and the inns worſe. He travelled in 1765. Nothing but vermin and naſtineſs in their beds, on the Appian to Brindiſi; the road that Horace travelled has nothing in it deſirable. The ſwampy ſoil and [29] marſhes on the right; and the ſtring of barren moun⯑tains on the left, for ſcores of miles together, may amuſe, but cannot delight a traveller.
In travelling through the kingdom of Naples, and the eccleſiaſtical ſtate, an Engliſhman is ſtruck at the ſcarcity of villages and cottages; indeed, one may almoſt aſſert, ſays Sharp, that there is no ſuch thing as a village, or even a cluſter of houſes reſembling one. What ſingle, ſeparate houſes there are, you ſee at a ſmall diſtance from the town; and, as the country is ſo thinly inhabited, the towns ſwarm with inhabi⯑tants. If any of theſe labour in the fields, they muſt travel far for that purpoſe; but there are multitudes of idle people, who wrap themſelves up in their cloaks, and ſtand penſively and ſtupid in the ſtreets, from morning to night. On holidays, every ſoul is in this ſauntering attitude.
The towns ſtand on the ſummit of hills; and, at ſome diſtance, afford a pleaſant proſpect, being built with ſtone, and having flat roofs; but, when you enter within the walls, and ſee the houſes ſo offenſively naſty, and the windows not only without glaſs, but without ſhutters; the marks of dirty poverty are ſo ſtrong, as almoſt to turn the ſtomach. Some of the inns, on this road, exceed in filth and bad accommoda⯑tions, every thing that can be conceived. I do ſin⯑cerely [30] believe, ſays Sharp, they no more think of wiping down a cobweb in a bedchamber, than our farmers do of ſweeping them away in an old barn; and can declare, upon my honour, that was a ſpider to fall from his manſion, every gueſt would be liable to receive it in his face as he lies in bed, for the whole cieling is covered with them.
Between the Mediterranean ſea and the Adriatic, are many foreſts, where robbers are ſaid to be con⯑tinually lurking; and, as an eſcort, government has ſtationed certain detachments of troopers, at proper diſtances, to take travellers and merchants under their protection.
In the months of February and March, ſays Keyſler, who travelled it in 1730, a perſon muſt be very ex⯑peditious to travel ſeven ſtages in a poſt-chaiſe, from ſun-riſing to ſun-ſet; but, in ſummer, the ſeventeen ſtages and a half, between Rome and Naples, are eaſily performed in two days. For the two chaiſe-horſes at every ſtage, within the kingdom of Naples, we pay eleven carlines, (three ſhillings and eightpence Eng⯑liſh) and half as much for the chaiſe, if wanted. The goodneſs of the roads (this contradicts Sharp) the fer⯑tility of the country, and the vigour and ſtrength of the horſes, make travelling extremely pleaſant in the Neapolitan territories. However, we cannot be too [31] careful, that the louis d'ors, or Spaniſh piſtoles, which a traveller brings into this country, be of right weight; for, both at Naples, and on the road, all gold coins are weighed with more cunning than equity, and need⯑leſs cavils raiſed, to make them appear to be under weight.
CHAP. XII. Of their Births, Education, Marriages, Phyſic, Funerals, &c.
THE Neapolitan people, ſays Biſani, are known by their diſpoſition to rebel. The peaſants are vigorous, robuſt, ſtrong, muſcular, full of fire, active, and very laborious; they reſemble the Italians only in ſobriety. This race of men glory in their deſcent from the Greeks, whom they reſemble. The other claſs of people are voluptuous to an exceſs.
Though the Neapolitan gentry are at a very ſmall expence for their tables, keeping little or no com⯑pany; [32] yet, upon weddings, lyings-inn, and funerals, they are very pompous. Lying-in ladies receive company, in great crowds, the day after their delivery; who, as ſoon as their compliments are paid, retire to adjacent chambers, forming themſelves into card-parties, or converzationi, and are regaled with every dainty the confectioner can furniſh. Theſe compli⯑ments are continued nine days.
The eſtabliſhment of a Neapolitan grandee's houſe, as has been obſerved, is upon a very expenſive plan. The number of ſervants, carriages, horſes, and run⯑ning footmen, would ſuffice for a ſovereign prince; and the wardrobes of their wives is formed on the ſame magnificent ſcale; yet, it is a fixed rule, ſays Swinburne, that all ladies whatever, be the circum⯑ſtances of their huſbands affluent or circumſcribed, have an hundred ducats a month, and no more, al⯑lowed them for pin-money, (about ſeventeen guineas Engliſh.) At the birth of every child, the huſband makes the wife a preſent of an hundred ounces, and ſome valuable trinkets, according to his fortune. In the plains it is cuſtomary for a peaſant, on the birth of a daughter, to plant a row of poplar-trees, which are cut down and ſold, at the end of ſeventeen years, to make up a fortune for her. The proverbial benediction of Figlij Maſchi, i. e. male children, which a Neapoli⯑tan gives a woman when ſhe ſneezes, is founded on [33] the great facility with which the common people pro⯑vide for their ſons: as ſoon as they can run about, they are able to earn their bread; while their ſiſters remain idle at home, or beg till they are old enough to attract the notice of the men.
Swinburne ſays, that the Neapolitans have tears at command, and are very eaſily moved to ſhew them, that neither blows nor careſſes can ſtop their children when once they begin to cry; that they muſt roar till they are tired; that all nurſes have a notion of ſinging, a monotanous, drawling, ſequidilla, by which they lull children to ſleep; but that they provided againſt its wakeful influence, by ſuch doſes of Venice treacle, as to render it a material article of im⯑portation.
Now I am ſpeaking of nurſes, it may not be amiſs to tell my readers, from Mrs. Piozzi, that it is a com⯑mon thing, for the wives of the lower claſs of men, to ſuckle the lap-dogs of ladies of quality; nay, many a woman of faſhion has fuckled her own dog herſelf.
Education, ſays Martyn, has been little attended to. Few people of rank will ſuffer their children to frequent academies, or public ſchools, but keep them at home; where in this ſoft climate they acquire [34] indolence and effeminacy. All literary diſtinctions have been beneath their rank, and it was not thought expedient to cloud the playful innocence of childhood, or the amiable gaiety of youth, with ſevere ſtudy. The nobility of this country, very ſeldom travel; and the only dramatic pieces here re⯑preſented, are operas; in which muſic, not ſentiment, is the principal thing attended to. But, the pains and expence government has been at, in eſtabliſhing public ſeminaries; the patriotic effects of the new academy of ſciences and belles lettres, and the faſhion which begins to prevail, among the nobility, of viſiting foreign countries; will, probably, bring on a gradual improvement.
Marriage-portions are not very great in general. It does not coſt a nobleman more to marry a daugh⯑ter, than it does to make her a nun; five thouſand pounds will not defray the expence of the ceremonies and profeſſion; ſhe muſt have a penſion ſettled on her; and reſerves, beſides, a power over her inheri⯑tance, in caſe ſhe arrives at any dignity in the con⯑vent, and wiſhes to enrich it with buildings, plate, or veſtments.
Servants, and artificers of the city of Naples, give from fifty to an hundred ducats with their daughters. Peaſants, and country workmen, go as far as three [35] hundred. Females at, or near Naples, are eſteemed helpleſs and indolent, and therefore have always twice or thrice as much fortune as their brothers, who have greater reſources in their ſtrength and activity. A girl would ſcarce get a huſband, if her lover did not expect to be re-imburſed, by her portion, for the ſum he paid away with his own ſiſters.
In funeral ceremonies, it is uſual to hire clergymen; who, having no patrimony, earn as much by their fees on theſe occaſions, as pays for their ordination; but it is very common, ſays Swinburne, for them to dreſs up the vagabonds of the ſtreets, in their clothes, and ſend them to ſing and pray in their ſtead. Theſe fellows are always attended by a friend, who holds a paper bag with a taper in it, in which they make the taper ſweal and waſte as much as poſ⯑ſible. At the burial of an archbiſhop of Naples, four hundred friars attended with wax lights; but ſome thieves let looſe a mad ox among them; and, in the confuſion, ran away with the candles. At another great funeral, a gang of rogues diſguiſed themſelves like clerks and ſacriſtans, and demanded from each aſſiſtant his taper, which they extinguiſhed, and carried off with the utmoſt hypocritical compo⯑ſure.
[36]The manner of burying their dead, here, is very ſhocking to an Engliſhman. Their cuſtom is, to carry the corpſe, dreſt in his uſual wearing apparel, with his face expoſed, on an open bier, through the ſtreets to the church, where the ſervice is read; after which it is ſtripped, and at a convenient hour, buried: but there is a pride and rivalry among the middling rank of people, in dreſſing out their children for this exhibition, which is truly laughable. The other day, ſays Sharp, there paſſed under my window, the body of a boy about eight years old, whoſe figure and face were as hideous, as death and the ſmall-pox could make him. The parents had dreſſed him in a fine laced hat, bag-wig, blue and ſilver cloaths, &c. and above all things, they don't forget to ſtick a ſword by his ſide. The origin of this cuſtom I could not learn, but ap⯑prehend, continues this author, it was at firſt deſigned to prevent foul play. The reality of every man's death, is even evident to the whole pariſh; and no young ſpendthrift can ſpirit away a father, or rich uncle, and fill a coffin with ſtones, ſend it to the grave, and take poſſeſſion of the eſtate.
Dr. Moore tells us, he met with a ſimilar funeral proceſſion. The deceaſed was a tradeſman, whoſe widow had beſtowed, not only the utmoſt attention, but more than ſhe could afford, in dreſſing him to the greateſt advantage on this ſolemn occaſion. He had [37] on quite a new ſuit of clothes, a laced hat on his head, ruffles, his hair finely powdered, and a large blooming noſegay in his left-hand, while the right was very gracefully ſtuck in his ſide.
It is the faſhion to viſit the widow, or neareſt re⯑lation of the deceaſed, the day after his, or her death; and this compliment of condolence is alſo paid, by every acquaintance, before the expiration of nine days.
In all the countries I have ſeen, ſays Groſley, there is not a town, Langres in France excepted, where the walls of churches are ſo crouded with epitaphs, and funeral inſcriptions, as at Naples; and they gene⯑rally ſavour very ſtrongly of the country: grief ex⯑preſſes itſelf in epigrams, antitheſes, and puns; a dic⯑tion quite oppoſite to the ſtile uſed by the ancients, on theſe ſolemn occaſions. Miſſon has inſerted a great many of theſe epitaphs, taken as they come. The following is one he omitted. It is in a ſtone ſarco⯑phagus, ſurmounted with a little Bacchus, in a chapel of the Mount of Olives church, and was compoſed by king Alphonſo, the magnanimous, in honour of a fa⯑vourite, called Muſſimo.
[38]The burial ground, ſet apart for Engliſh, who die at Naples, ſays Mrs. Piozzi, is a dirty garden near the city, contemptuouſly called Buco Proteſtante; where not leſs than an hundred Engliſhmen are an⯑nually interred; leaving, on a moderate computation, fifty or ſixty thouſand pounds each. It is literally a kitchen garden; on which cabbages, cauliflowers, &c. are carried to market, and ſold in the city. The ca⯑tacombs of Naples we have mentioned.
CHAP. XIII. Of their Commerce, Trade, and Manufactories.
NAPLES, by its ſituation and harbour, has always been the centre of a commerce, which it lies in its own breaſt to enlarge, and that very conſiderably; but, notwithſtanding its ſituation, and that no king⯑dom produces the neceſſaries and luxuries of life in greater profuſion; yet trade is but in a languiſhing condition; the beſt ſilks come from Lyons; the beſt woollen goods from England.
[39]The following merchandize, ſays Swinburne, is im⯑ported in Naples.
From England—Woollen goods of all ſorts, ſilk and worſted ſtockings, hats, tanned hides, lead, tin, pepper, hardware, linens, fans, canes, guns, dying-woods, drugs, watches, clocks, mathematical inſtru⯑ments, houſehold furniture, ſalt-cod, pilchards, her⯑rings, coffee, tea, cocoa, ſugar, and occaſionally cal⯑licoes, and Eaſt-India goods.
From Holland—Cinnamon, cloves, nutmegs, pep⯑per, drugs from the Eaſt and Weſt-Indies; fine cloths, particularly black, called Segovia; linens, muſlins, chintz, callicoes, cocoa, whalebone, tobacco, ſilk ſtuffs, and velvet.
From France—Great quantities of ſugar, indigo, coffee, dying-woods, verdigreaſe, Levant drugs, cocoa, hardware, ſilk-ſtuffs, gold and ſilver, ſags of le mans, du roy, cloths of Elbeuf, and all ſorts of women's ap⯑parel.
From Spain—Sugar, cochineal, dying-woods, cocoa, hides ſalted, and in the hair; American drugs, divers cloths, wine, tobacco, Seville and Havannah ſnuff, lead, gun-barrels, honey, &c.
From Portugal—Brazil ſugars, tobacco, cocoa of Maringan, drugs, hides, &c.
From Venice—Books, cordovans, looking-glaſſes of all ſorts, luſtres, coach and window-glaſſes, Padua cloths, fine Verona cloths, equal to Engliſh ſcarlet; [40] ſtockings, woollen caps, fine hats, wax candles, white loaf ſugar, fine linen, medicinal and Levant drugs; all ſorts of paints, ſublimate, cinnabar, quickſilver, turpentine, dragon's blood, copper, iron, manufactures of Germany and Breſcia, and excellent paper.
From Genoa—American goods from the Spaniſh main, and the Portugueſe Weſt-Indies; velvets, iron in great quantities, nails, common hats; wax, from Tunis and Africa.
From Leghorn—All ſorts of ſecond-hand goods from the Levant, Barbary wools, Egypt linens, wax, and many ſilk manufactures.
From Peterſburg—Hides, wax, iron, furs, &c.
From Sardinia—Great quantities of tunny fiſh, and white cheeſe.
From Germany—Sileſia linens of all ſorts, white and painted iron of divers manufactures, Hungary vitriol, Bohemia chryſtals, large glaſſes for coaches and windows; hats, and goods of Vienna fabrick; turpentine, quickſilver, hardware, manufactures of Oſnaburg, and Nuremberg; copper, tin-plates, boards, cloth, &c.
The duties, on imports in general, are twenty-five per cent. on the cuſtom-houſe valuation; ſugars and rum pay forty or fifty per cent. on the market price; the duty on ſugar produces, annually, about 80,000 ducats.
[41]The exports are, hemp, flax, goat's hair, ſilk, dried fruits, manna, horſes, excellent ſhip timber, and dif⯑ferent ſorts of grain. In the city of Naples there are ſeveral manufactories of ſilk, velvets, velverets, handkerchiefs, and ſtockings. Their ſoap is much eſteemed. They alſo make liqueurs, eſſences, artifi⯑cial flowers, and abundance of macaroni. The beſt muſical ſtrings are made here, from lambs-gut. There is a manufactory of tortoiſe-ſhell, which they inlay oc⯑caſionally with gold, for ſnuff-boxes, and other ar⯑ticles; and they carry on a conſiderable commerce in poliſhed marbles and lava's. They are thought to embroider here, better than in France; their maca⯑roni is preferred to any modern Italy; and they have one kind of confection called Diabolonis, a drug of a very hot and ſtimulating nature, ſold at a very high price, four or five guineas for a handful.
The wines of Naples are the beſt in Italy, and the clergy are the greateſt wine-merchants. The wine-cellar, belonging to the Jeſuits, if we may credit Dr. Burnet, is a vaſt vault, that contains above a thouſand hogſheads. The people here, from the higheſt to the loweſt, will drink no wine, or other liquors, not even water, if it has not been ſome time in ſnow, which they uſe inſtead of ice; affirming, that ſnow cools liquor ſooner; and, according to Mr. Addiſon, a ſcarcity of ſnow would raiſe a mutiny at Naples, as ſoon as a [42] dearth of corn, or proviſions, in another country. There are perſons who contract under government, to ſerve the city at ſo much a pound. There is a high mountain about eighteen miles from Naples, in which ſeveral pits are dug; and here labourers are employed at certain ſeaſons, to roll in vaſt balls of ſnow, which they ram cloſe together and cover from the ſun; and out of theſe reſervoirs of ſnow, they cut great lumps as they have occaſion, and ſend them on aſſes to the ſea-ſide, whence they are carried in boats to Naples, and ſold to the ſeveral ſhops at a fixed price.
CHAP. XIV. Of their Army and Navy, Conſtitution, Revenue, Laws.
[43]THE ſtanding forces, horſe and foot, in time of peace, throughout the kingdom, do not exceed 27,000 men; of which 1,700 are foreigners; Swiſs, Italians, and Spaniards: a number very inſufficient for keeping the inhabitants in awe, on the approach of an enemy. The officers, in the Neapolitan ſervice, ſays Groſley, are diſtinguiſhed, from the enſign to the colonel, by the heads of their canes. Their pay is ſmall; a captain having but three hundred dollars a year. No officer can marry without the King's con⯑ſent, in order to prevent their marrying below their rank; and they ſay his Majeſty is very ſtrict in his enquiries, before he grants the lady the requeſt; for it is ſhe that muſt aſk the permiſſion.
The ſoldiers ſeem diſſatisfied with their ſituation, and are always complaining of their hardſhips; but this is of little moment, the frontiers being too well [44] ſecured for any of them to eſcape. One act of hu⯑manity, however, in their government, deſerves notice; that on deſerters being brought back to their corps, they are only impriſoned, and fed on bread and water for a few days; for the ſecond offence, the puniſhment is heavier, but never death.
Among their regiments there is a corps of light in⯑fantry, armed and dreſt after the faſhion of the Cata⯑lonian miquelets. Their uniform is yellow; their accoutrements light, and fit for deſultory attacks; their perſons well choſen, and proper for the duty. This regiment is called Fucilieii di Compagna, country fuzileers, and their office is to patrole the roads, and eſcort travellers from place to place.
The King has a fleet, as hath been obſerved, of armed gallies, and a few men of war, but unworthy the name of a fleet; ſo that the ſtate is not ſecure from the bombardment of a naval force. The whole navy of the kingdom, ſays Sharp, may be ſeen in the port of Naples; for, as magnificent as it may appear to an Engliſhman, it is much larger than they have any uſe for. The only purpoſe for which they em⯑ploy their ſhips of war, and frigates, is a cruiſe againſt the Barbary rovers, and this happens but rarely. They ſeem, at laſt, to have diſcovered, that gallies are but a poor defence againſt frigates, and ſuch as [45] Engliſh privateers; for which reaſon, they never fit them out for ſea, but reſerve them merely as priſons. The following was a true liſt of their fleet in 1766. Two men of war, one of 64 guns, and the other of 54; two frigates of 32 guns each; four gallies, four gal⯑liots, and ſix xebecks; a formidable army againſt Lil⯑liput, or their neighbouring potentate the pope.
As the nobility hold their lands by feudal tenure, and were obliged to furniſh a certain number of ſol⯑diers, it was formerly calculated, that they could bring into the field 100,000 horſe, and 150,000 foot; but moſt of theſe military ſervices are now turned into rents; and the ſovereign chuſes to rely rather upon foreign troops, than his own people.
The title of King of both Sicilies was firſt uſed in the twelfth century, when Roger II. earl of Sicily, was alſo king of Naples. The title of inveſtiture, which the pope claims for the kingdom, commenced in the eleventh century, when pope Leo IX. inveſted count Humphrey, the Norman, and his heirs, with Apulia, Ca⯑labria, and whatever he ſhould conquer in Sicily. Though this inveſtiture meant no more, than that the pope wiſhed ſucceſs to the Norman arms, and pro⯑nounced their future conqueſts lawful; yet, in 1059, it was made more abſolute, and the province of the kingdom of Naples, was conſidered as fiefs to the [46] popedom. The pope now accepts the city of Bene⯑vento, from the King of Naples, for the inveſtiture; and ſends to Naples annually, a preſent of a white palfrey, and a purſe of ſix thouſand ducats. The King's eldeſt ſon is ſtiled prince of Calabria. The arms of the kingdom is a blue field, interſperſed with lilies; or, with a tournament collar of five lappets gules.
Here is one order, that of St. Januarius, inſtituted in 1728. Its badge is an image of that ſaint, appen⯑dant to a watered carnation ribband hanging from the right ſhoulder to the left ſide, and on the left breaſt a ſilver croſs.
The nobility are numerous, too much ſo for the extent of the kingdom. There are 119 princes, 156 dukes, 173 marquiſſes, 42 counts, and 445 barons; all vaſſals of the crown. Many a ſpot of land, not worth fifty dollars a year, gives the title of marquis to the owners; ſo that, in general, they are very poor.
The kingdom of Naples is ſtill governed by laws, which the Normans introduced in the eleventh cen⯑tury, viz. the annual feudal law in all its origin; a proof of its former conqueſt by the Normans. The peaſants, of courſe, are poor; and it depends entirely [47] on the perſonal character of the maſters, whether their poverty is not the leaſt of their grievances. The court of Naples has not yet ventured, ſays Moore, by one open act of authority, to aboliſh the immediate power of the lords over their tenants; but, it is be⯑lieved, the miniſter wiſhes ſecretly for its deſtruc⯑tion.
Though the Neapolitan nobility ſtill retain, as I ſaid, the ancient feudal authority over the peaſants; yet their perſonal importance depends, in a great meaſure, on the favour of the king; who, under pre⯑text of any offence, can confine them to their own eſtates, or impriſon them at pleaſure; or, which is worſe to them, can forbid them the court. Unleſs the king was to affront all the nobility at once, he has little to fear from their reſentment. Even in caſe of ſuch a union, as the nobles have loſt the affection and attachment of their peaſants; what could they do, in oppoſition to a ſtanding army of 30,000 men, (ſome of whom are Swiſs) entirely devoted to the crown?
There are a number of ſtate officers in the ſervice of the crown; but men of high birth are ſeldom here called to the management of public affairs; of courſe, they live a great deal upon their eſtates, and theſe ſave money, to make a figure occaſionally at Naples. The country ſeats, of the nobility, are caſtles; with a [48] ſingle wall, or ditch about them, like the gentlemen's chateaus, or ſeats, in Flanders; ſufficient to ſecure them againſt a troop of banditti, but by no means ca⯑pable of reſiſting an army.
Dr. Burnet ſays, the clergy are poſſeſſed of one-third of the lands of the whole kingdom; the crown, nobility, and gentry, poſſeſs almoſt all the reſt. Tradeſ⯑men and peaſants have ſcarce any they can call their own; being no better than tenants at will. They manure the lord's lands, plant and prune his vines and olives, and are allowed no more than a bare ſubſiſt⯑tance for their poor families. They come for juſtice to the courts of their reſpective lords, in all caſes that are not capital, or highly criminal; and are, in all reſpects, ſubject to theſe petty ſovereigns. As the crown lands pay no taxes, and thoſe of the clergy none, but what they think proper; the charges of go⯑vernment are born chiefly by the nobility and gentry.
The revenues of the Crown amount to about one million ſterling per year; and ariſe from the mono⯑poly of ſalt, gunpowder, and from exciſe and different taxes, ports-royal, and an annual free gift of the no⯑bility, clergy, and feudal ſtates. But there is not above eight or nine millions of ducats, current coin, in the kingdom; including gold, ſilver, and braſs; which is [49] not ſufficient for the circulation of a very extenſive commerce; for, although the notes of ſeven public banks, eſtabliſhed in Naples, circulate even down to the value of the ſmalleſt ſums; yet the caſh for theſe notes is paid into theſe banks, as into bankers hands in London, and without intereſt; of courſe, this paper money does not increaſe the quantity of ſpecie circulated, it only ſaves trouble. Theſe banks take in pawns to an immenſe value, at ſtated intereſts, and lend money on other ſecurities.
All manufactures ſent from the capital into the pro⯑vinces, and exported out of the kingdom, are liable to a duty of ſixteen to twenty per cent. and theſe duties ariſe annually to 74909 ducats—a ducat is 3s. 4d. ſterling.
There is a great ſcarcity of gold, but much ſilver, and vaſt quantities of copper coin in circulation. Gold is ſo ſcarce, ſays Sharp, that I have ſeen five or ſix gentlemen, not chooſing to carry a load of ſilver, ſit down to cards, and be under the neceſſity of mark⯑ing their loſings. On the contrary, there is ſuch a profuſion of copper, and retail taaders are overloaded with it to ſuch a degree, as to oblige them to make a certain allowance for the exchange. In conſequence of this neceſſity, we ſee, in the market-places and ſtreets, great numbers of money-changers, who have a [50] little ſtall heaped up with copper money, which they deliver out for ſilver to thoſe who want change; and they receive of the ſhopkeepers, about a halfpenny for every four ſhillings worth.
The feudal ſyſtem is here in its full force, it begins with the perſon of the king, and extends itſelf through all claſſes. The kingdom of Naples is a fief to the holy ſee of Rome; but, ſince the year 1788, the King has not paid his homage. Many of the fiefs in the two Sicilies, are in the hands of the Venetians, and the Genoeſe.
The ſovereign authority is not unlimited; it is in ſome meaſure curbed, by the ſtates of the kingdom, who aſſemble annually. There are ſix thouſand noble families in the kingdom of Naples only, the great dignities are as numerous as in Spain; and in every town there are inferior juriſdictions. Juſtice is adminiſtered by upper tribunals, in every province, with an appeal to the great court in Naples; even from Sicily itſelf.
The forms of criminal juriſprudence are here ſo ill ordained, ſays Swinburne, ſo multiplied, and ſo com⯑plex; that, if the king was to inſiſt upon a villain's taken in the fact being tried, and if found guilty, hanged before the end of three days; the diſpatch [51] would almoſt kill the judges with fatigue; for the trial and procedures would employ them full eighteen hours out of every twenty-four. Firſt, the accuſa⯑tion muſt be laid according to rule, and witneſſes examined; next, the counſel for the priſoner pleads a couple of hours; the counſel for the crown one hour; then the counſel for the priſoner, if he pleaſes, two hours more. This done, every one of the judges harangues. Then all the notifications are made, exa⯑minations canvaſſed, proofs debated, and a thouſand trifling formalities obſerved, which occaſion ſuch ſhameful, unſurmountable delays, as eterniſe a cri⯑minal proceſs. It happened lately, continues Swin⯑burne, that on the final determination of the trial, and condemnation of a malefactor, a meſſenger was ſent to the jailer, to bring the culprit into court, in order to receive ſentence; when behold! the turnkey appeared, and made an affidavit, that the priſoner had died of a long fit of ſickneſs, the Chriſtmas twelvemonth before.
As the ſalary of a judge, in Naples, is only fifty ducats a month (9l. 7s. 6d. Engliſh) he cannot afford to be honeſt, or expeditious; but the caſe is ſtill worſe in the provinces, where the judges have but half the ſum; and with that muſt keep a coach, and proper houſehold eſtabliſhment. Thoſe who ſerve warrants, writs, &c. are allowed no pay, though they muſt keep thirty bailiffs each under them; of courſe, they [52] are naturally very active in taking up an offender, where there is a poſſibility of extorting any money out of him; when once in durance, the priſoner ceaſes to be an object of conſideration to them, and therefore they take no pains to forward his trial. There were above twelve thouſand criminals, rotting in the diffe⯑rent priſons of the kingdom, when Mr. Swinburne was there, whoſe maintenance coſt the ſtate above two hundred thouſand ducats a year, (37,500l.).
The plaintiff and defendant are not brought, face to face, before a judge; but the cauſe is brought on by an attorney, on the part of each; one ſtates the accuſa⯑tion, the other the defence; after this, the judges, by a plurality of voices, determine according to the evi⯑dence; of courſe the delays of criminal cauſes, be⯑come as tedious as thoſe of civil ones.
The priſoners, condemned to the galleys, of which there are generally about two thouſand, are chained two and two, and may be thought to ſuffer by lying on the decks; but their condition is far preferable to that of many of the poor, who lie in the ſtreets. Be⯑ſides, they have a certain allowance of bread from the king, and wear ſome cloathing. The galley ſlaves lead an idle life; whatever work they do a-board, is chiefly for their own benefit; for few of them are em⯑ployed in cruiſing. If a taylor, or a ſhoemaker, earns [53] a few pence, he puts a part of it into his pocket, and purchaſes ſome rarity with it. A man, ſays Sharp, who has viſited them as often as I have done, will never, when he means to picture extreme miſery, re⯑preſent it in the ſhape of a galley-ſlave. I have ſeen a muſician, on board, entertaining them with vocal and inſtrumental muſic, whom they paid for his performance; and I have no doubt, but this poor man ſtiled thoſe we call wretches, his good maſters.
CHAP XV. Of their Religion.
THE Roman Catholic religion, here, is on a very bad footing; and the beſt that can be ſaid of the eccleſiaſtical conſtitution is, that the Neapolitans have always reſolutely oppoſed the introducing of the in⯑quiſition. The number of monaſteries and convents is aſtoniſhing; and the clergy may be ſaid to be all wealthy, but the laity, poor. We have ſaid, that [54] the clergy poſſeſs a third of the kingdom; but Gian⯑none, who wrote with ſuch veracity and freedom, on the ambition of avarice, of the Neapolitan clergy, and thereby involved himſelf in misfortunes, men⯑tions, as a general received opinion, that were the country divided into five parts, four would be found in the hands of the church, as being in actual poſſeſſion of half the land; and having, upon an average, pro⯑cured by legacies and donations, a fifth, and a half-fifth more; ſcarce a perſon dying, without leaving ſome⯑thing to a church, or a convent. Indeed, ſuch is the power and opulence of the clergy, of this country, ſays Keyſler, and the veneration paid them, that more than once they have been ready to ſeize the civil power. The laity have often, in the ſtrongeſt man⯑ner, petitioned their ſovereign, that the clergy ſhould be no longer allowed to purchaſe lands; but all en⯑deavours were fruitleſs, till 1751, when meaſures were invented, for the pope's conſent, for leſſening the num⯑ber of convents.
As to external ceremonies, the devotion of the Roman Catholics, here, is not ſo outrageous as in ſeveral provinces of Germany. At the elevation of the hoſt, in churches, proteſtants are not compelled to kneel; and travellers are allowed to eat fleſh in Lent. In this kingdom are twenty-one archbiſhopricks, and one hundred and twenty-three biſhopricks; in 1782, [55] the kingdom of Naples, alone, contained 45,525 prieſts; 24,694 monks, and 20,973 nuns: the ab⯑beys, priories, commendaries, in the two kingdoms, are very rich, and amount to one hundred and twenty.
The moſt common proceſſion, which is exhibited almoſt every day, is not ſo much intended to create devotion, as to raiſe a fund for penitent proſtitutes; who have quitted their abandoned way of living, and retired to a convent. In order the more effectually to move the ſpectator to charity, the youngeſt and moſt beautiful of theſe penitents are ſelected, who are ordered to walk bare-footed, through the city, two a-breaſt. At ſome particular places they kneel down, acknowledge their paſt wickedneſs, and ſing peniten⯑tial hymns; the eccleſiaſtic, and a lay aſſiſtant, who at⯑tend them, in the mean time, receiving the contribu⯑tions of the public, in a purſe faſtened to the end of a ſtick. Their habit, on theſe occaſions, is a violet coloured gown, tied round the waiſt with a cord of the ſame colour. Their heads are ſhaved, but they wear a blue veil, which, however, is thin enough to give a ſight of the charms of youth and beauty, as powerful incentives to a liberal contribution.
The Neapolitans have a tendency to Atheiſm, ſays Keyſler. Molines had a ſtrong party in this city; [56] and many, in their heart, are Janſeniſts. Naples is the place, of all Italy, where bookſellers are under the leaſt reſtraint; books written by Proteſtants are openly ſold.
At Naples they have a practice, unknown at Rome; and which is meant as a piece of devotional compli⯑ment to the Saviour of the world. From the Friday to the Sunday, incluſive, which three days our Lord remained interred in the earth, perſons of quality viſit in chairs; and thoſe of inferior rank, walk. No carriages are allowed at that time to paſs the ſtreets; left, by their clatter, they ſhould diſturb our Saviour in his grave. I ſpeak not this ludicrouſly, ſays Sharp; there are thouſands who believe him at this time in the bowels of the earth.
Among other ridiculous practices which are meant as ſacred ones in the holy week; they faſten a man on a croſs, and carry him in proceſſion through the ſtreets of Naples. On each ſide of the croſs are two vulgar women, who, with their hair diſhevelled, and ſome geſtures of lamentation, repreſent Mary, and Mary Magdalen in tears. The man, who repreſents our Sa⯑viour, is ſome poor fellow, who is paid a ſhilling or two for his trouble; the extenſion of his arms, for a length of time, being very uneaſy and painful to him.
[57]They have even admitted into their devotion, the noiſe and exploſion of gunpowder. I was rouſed one day from my ſeat, continues Sharp, by a univerſal diſ⯑charge of the whole artillery of Naples; and on en⯑quiry, was informed the guns were fired for the im⯑maculate conception of the Virgin Mary. In truth, the Neapolitans are the greateſt gunpowder nation in the world. No merchant ſends a few caſks of wine into the city, but they are preceded by ſquibs, crackers, and the firing of muſquets; and, during the Chriſtmas week, all the young men, boys, and little children, ſpend every farthing they can ſcrape toge⯑ther, in gunpowder; and pop and ſhoot all day, and all night, to the great annoyance of the healthy, and the diſturbance of the ſick.
One of the greateſt ſingularities of Naples, at Chriſt⯑mas, is the Preſepe; which is a repreſentation of the birth of our Saviour, with all its concomitant circum⯑ſtances, in ſmall figures. It is expoſed either in a ſuite of apartments, or on the flat top of a houſe; and, by means of maſſes, popes, cork, and branches of trees, form an hiſtorical landſcape. Some of theſe preſepes are pretty enough; they contrive to make the ſky, and diſtant country, a part of it; and optical illuſions are wonderful.
[58]The preſepe, or preſepio, properly ſignifies a manger; and this is a dedication of the preſepio to the virgin and her infant; not only in churches, but in houſes. Among the puppets exhibited, we often ſee the wiſe men of the Eaſt, with the ſtar over their heads, on one ſpot; the ſhepherds attending their flocks, with the angel deſcending towards them, on another. The Virgin, the Infant, Joſeph, and the aſs, on another. In ſhort, the compoſer introduces ſuch figures and hiſto⯑rical facts into the group, as the new Teſtament, and ſometimes his own fancy, ſuggeſts. But what renders this made-picture really an object, for a man of taſte, is the artful diſpoſition of the figures, amidſt a ſcenery of perſpective aſtoniſhingly deceitful to the eye. Theſe are often made at a very great expence, from five hundred to as many thouſand pounds, and are always kept up. The poor, if they are not already provided with a preſepio, purchaſe a cheap trumpery one at Chriſtmas, which they lock up with care the whole year; or, perhaps, for their lives.
In time of Lent, fine preachers, from every monk⯑ery, travel to diſtant provinces to hold forth to the public; and Naples is generally viſited by ſome of the beſt. Mr. Sharp tells us, he was induced to go and hear one or two of them, that were in the higheſt eſti⯑mation for their eloquence. Some of the pulpits are a kind of gallery, which admit of great ſcope for ac⯑tion, [59] running from one end to the other; and inju⯑dicious preachers do not fail to take advantage of it. It is the habit of this country, to employ much action and geſtures, in the moſt trifling converſations. This habit infeſts the bar and the pulpit; and from an in⯑diſcriminate application of it, on ſlight occaſions, its force and effect are loſt in great ones.
But what gives more offence, is a familiarity of ſtyle, which they have introduced into their compoſitions; when even God Almighty, and our Saviour, are the ſubjects in queſtion. I went the other day, ſays Sharp, when the moſt celebrated preacher was in Naples; this was in 1766; who, among other inelegancies, gave us a familiar dialogue, and in a very familiar manner, betwixt God and Jeſus Chriſt, in which our Saviour begged and prayed that he would not damn mankind; but God being inexorable, and deaf to all intreaty, our Saviour ſaid, "Why then, if your juſtice muſt exceed your mercy, be ſo good to damn me, and ſpare them. This the preacher told us, God was ſo good as to comply with. I believe, continues Sharp, I have not miſtaken him a jot; becauſe ano⯑ther gentleman, who was preſent, agreed with me in every particular, word for word; and I was ſo fearful of miſrepreſenting the truth, that I immediately com⯑mitted it to paper.
[60]There has crept alſo into faſhion, an idle cuſtom of telling a ſtory in their ſermons; with which they ſome⯑times finiſh their diſcourſe, as our clergy do with a practical inference. They mean, that the moral of their ſtories ſhould be a religious one; but their at⯑tempts to tell, in the character of a man of the world, often miſcarries. A certain Catholic lady, continues this author, informed me, that laſt year ſhe was at church, when a celebrated Jeſuit told the following ſtory: "That queen Elizabeth, ſo famous throughout the world for her hereſy, made a compact with the devil, that if he would indulge her in all ſhe deſired, and ſuffer her to reign ſo many years, ſhe would ſur⯑render her ſoul at the concluſion of that term." Ac⯑cordingly, the day ſhe died, there was a great black cloud aſcended from the Thames, which drew the at⯑tention of an infinite number of ſpectators; who, at laſt, heard a voice from the cloud pronounce theſe words: I am the ſoul of queen Elizabeth, now going to the devil for the ſins I have committed. There is one week in Lent, that moſt of the ladies of diſtinction go, every day, to hear a ſermon at the Jeſuit's church; and it was on one of thoſe days that the preacher told this ſtory to the politeſt congregation at Naples.
The preachers here have a moveable crucifix in the pulpit, about two feet high, ſtanding cloſe to their elbow. The Chriſt on it has generally a crown of [61] thorns; and the ſtream of blood, down his face and breaſt, are painted with a lively red. At the con⯑cluſion of the ſermon, or on any other appoſite occa⯑ſion, when the preacher is to ſet forth the ſufferings and agonies of our Saviour, dying for the ſalvation of the world, he takes the crucifix in his hands, diſplays the bleeding wounds of the image; and, if he has any pathetic powers, never fails to extort ſuch marks of contrition and horror from the congregation, ſuch knockings on the breaſt, ſuch an effuſion of tears, and ſometimes, amongſt the women, ſuch involuntary hyſ⯑terical ſcreams, as Proteſtants have no idea of.
But powerful as the crucifix uſually is, particu⯑larly in the hands of an eloquent preacher, I am tempted, ſays Sharp, to tell a ludicrious ſtory, border⯑ing upon prophaneneſs, where its efficacy failed. It is one of thoſe inſtances, where a burning zeal, through a deplorable ignorance, furniſhes matters of raillery to ſcoffers, and compaſſion to ſuch as are truly reli⯑gious. At Naples, there is a place called Largo del Caſtello, not unlike our Tower-hill, the reſort of the idle. Here, every afternoon, monks, mountebanks, pickpockets, and conjurors, follow their ſeveral occu⯑pations. The monk, (for I never ſaw more than one at a time) holds forth like our itinerant field-preachers, to what congregation he can collect. The moun⯑tebank, by means of punch, and his fellow come⯑dians, [62] endeavours to gather as great an audience as he can. It happened one day, that punch ſucceeded wonderfully, and the poor monk preached to the air, for not a living creature was near him. Mortified and provoked, that a puppet-ſhew, within thirty yards of him, ſhould draw the attention of the people from the goſpel, to ſuch idle traſh; with a mixture of rage and religion, he held up his crucifix and called aloud, "Ecco il vero pulcinella." "Here is the true pul⯑chinello; come here—come here." This ſtory is ſo well known in Naples to be true, that the moſt devout people tell it; and were it not for ſuch a ſanction, I ſhould not have repeated it.
To be more ſerious, Mrs. Piozzi tells us, that ſhe ſaw a very odd ſcene one morning at church; which, though new to her, perhaps, from its frequent repe⯑tition, ſeemed to ſtrike no one but herſelf.
A lady, with a long white dreſs, and veiled, came in her carriage, which waited for her at the door, with her own arms on it; and three ſervants, better dreſſed than is here common, followed and put a lighted taper in her hand. En cet etât, ſhe moved ſlowly up the church, looking like Jane Shore, in the laſt act, but not ſo feeble; and, having reached the ſteps of the high altar, threw herſelf quite upon her face before it; remaining there proſtrate, at leaſt five minutes, in [63] the face of the whole congregation; who neither ſtared, ſneered, ſmiled, nor lamented; but minded their own private devotions (no maſs was ſaying). The lady roſe, kiſſed the ſteps, and bathed them with her tears, mingled with ſobs of an affected penitence; this done, ſhe retired to her ſeat, where ſhe waited with others, the commencement of the ſacred office.
Let not this ſtory, however, continues our fair authoreſs, lead any one to think, that more general decorum, or true devotion, can be found in churches of the Romiſh perſuaſion, than in ours—quite the re⯑verſe. This burſt of penitential piety was, in itſelf, an indecorous thing; but it is the nature and genius of the people, not to mind pretenders. Dogs are ſuffered to run about and dirty the churches, during the whole time of ſervice; whilſt the crying of children, and the moſt indecent methods taken by the women to pacify them, give one ſtill juſter offence. In all the churches of Italy, there is no treading for ſpittle and naſtineſs, but more ſo at Naples.
I will conclude theſe anecdotes of their religion, with the cuſtomary miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius, their patron ſaint, which is kept in two different phials (one holding near an ounce, and the other a few drops) in one of the chapels of the church, dedicated to that ſaint. Both the [64] phials reſemble the ladies' ſmelling bottles for ſalts; the larger being a depreſſed ſpheroid, like a flat watch-caſe, of three inches diameter, with glaſſes before and behind; the ſmaller, a narrow cylindrical one. They are contained in a gold caſe, between two circular glaſſes, of about three inches diameter, ſupported on a thin pedeſtal; by which means, when it is held up againſt light, or a candle placed behind, the ſpectator ſees clearly the bottles, and their contents; which ſeems to be a congealed ſubſtance, not unlike a lump of Spaniſh ſnuff. Keyſler ſays, it is of a browniſh red, and looks like balſam of Peru, which may be very eaſily liquified. The pretended liquefaction of the coagulated blood in the phials, when placed near the head, is known to all the world. This farce is acted the firſt Sunday in May; and on the ſucceſs, or failure of this miracle, the proſperity, or calamity of the ſuc⯑ceeding year, is ſuppoſed to depend. As its ſucceſs, that is, its liquefaction, occaſions great rejoicings; ſo, if the blood remains coagulated, recourſe is had to proceſſions, and public flagellations, &c. to avert the impending danger.
On the day when this miracle is to be exhibited, the phials, containing the blood, ſtand ſurrounded with a great number of lights. They are applied to the mouths and foreheads of an innumerable multitude of people, who throng to partake of ſuch a bleſſing; [65] the prieſt all the while burning it every way; ſo that, by the continual agitation, the warmth of his hands, the heat from the lights, the effluvia from the crowd, the ſultrineſs of the weather, &c. it is not unreaſon⯑able to ſuppoſe, a condenſed fluid, may be gradually reſtored to its liquid ſtate. This operation, Sharp ſays, is generally executed in eight, ten, fifteen, or twenty minutes; but when he was preſent, it was near an hour and half, it being a very cold morning. Some hereticks, finding how ſlowly the miracle ope⯑rated, thought proper to retire, to ſave their bones from being broke; for the Neapolitans entertain an opinion, that the ſaint refuſes to act when hereticks are preſent; and as the refuſal is eſteemed ominous, they have, ſometimes, drove them very rudely from the altar. I heard, continues he, a woman declare, that it muſt be owing to the preſence of ſome Pro⯑teſtants in the churches, that the miracle went on ſo ſlowly. The liquefaction in the larger phial was evi⯑dent; in the ſmaller, the matter, after the miracle, appeared of a more vivid red. I cannot ſay it re⯑ſembled blood very much in either of them. As ſoon as the liquefaction takes place, the prieſts cry out, Il miraculo e fatto. "The miracle is done," which is immediately anſwered by a Te Deum, amid the accla⯑mations of the people, and a diſcharge of cannon. In 1733, Mr. Neuman, a celebrated chemiſt at Berlin, invented a method to liquefy coagulated blood eaſily, [66] at any time; ſo that, admitting the contents of the phial to be blood, (which moſt likely is not the caſe) there is nothing wonderful in the buſineſs.
CHAP. XVI. Of their Learning, Arts, Sciences, &c.
THE Neapolitans are far from being deficient in underſtanding; but, notwithſtanding all their ſchools, univerſities, and academies, their religion muſt be a perpetual bar to the improvement and in⯑creaſe of ſolid literature. Though the bookſellers in Naples enjoy more liberty than in other Italian ſtates; yet they are under very mortifying reſtrictions, ſays Buſching, with regard to the publication and vending of books.
Dr. Burnet, who would not allow the clergy of Naples any great ſhare of learning, obſerves, however, that there were ſocieties of men in this city, of finer [67] thoughts, than could be found in any other part of Italy.
At Naples, there is a univerſity; ſeveral public li⯑braries, and profeſſors, read lectures here on theology, medicine, politics, law, mathematics, phyſics, hiſtory, humanity, and languages. In the two kingdoms, there are four univerſities, and many academies of ſcience, muſic, ſculpture, and architecture.
With reſpect to the arts, Naples has been infinitely more happy in painting, than in architects. Lanfranc, Diminichini, Guido, and of the Bologna ſchool; Lucca Giordano, and Maſſimo.
The architecture of both ſacred and civil, public and private edifices, is no longer the architecture of Rome; the outſide of moſt of the churches, even the moſt ſtately and ſplendid, is, all over Italy, only a bare wall ſtanding, as it were, in expectation of a portal. Their churches are ill built, in the form of a cup, with a cupola over the junction; all their gates and doors are loaded with heavy balconies, ſupported by brackets, heavier than what they bear, or ſuſpended by a miracle. The inſides are rather rich and glaring, than fine; and the decorations and diſtributions every where uniform.
[68]The fountains, ſays Groſley, in the ſeveral parts of the city, bear the marks of the ſame bad taſte; but no where does Neapolitan taſte ſhine with ſo much luſtre, as in the pyramids or obeliſks, erected in ſquares fronting the principal churches. In the monſtrous expence of them, in the uncouth aſſemblage of the various marbles, they exceed all the enormities of Gothic rudeneſs.
It is univerſally known, that Naples is the centre of the beſt muſic in Italy, and the non plus ultra in exe⯑cution. It is to all Italy, in muſic, what Athens was to Greece, in eloquence and philoſophy; but its muſic, like other arts, ſavours a little of the national fondneſs for the Capriccioſo and the Stravagante.
Naples has, for a long time, been the ſchool and ſeminary of the beſt violins; yet, they queſtion their ſkill, till they have been tried by the renowned Tartini, of Padua, where they flock to covet his approbation. Tartini cooly hears them; and after very attentively liſtening to what they propoſe to execute, "That's fine," ſays he, or, "that is very difficult; that is brilliantly executed," "but," adds he, putting his finger to his breaſt, "It did not reach hither."
The ſtudy of muſic is ſo much neglected, ſays Sharp, at Naples, that I found it as impoſſible here [69] as at Venice, to have a harpſichord to play on; nor do they ever print their operas or favourite airs.
The Italians count their hours to twenty-four o'clock, beginning the day from the time it is almoſt dark; ſo that time varies with them, in conformity to the ſetting of the ſun. For example, if they begin to count from our ſix-in the evening; when it is ſeven with us, it will be one with them; and the next day, when it is ſeven in the evening, it will be a little paſt one with them; as many minutes as the day is length⯑ened, To obviate, therefore, this error in time, they alter their clocks and watches, as often as the error amounts to fifteen minutes; advancing, or putting them back, as the days ſhorten or lengthen. If a man forgets to alter his watch, he loſes or gains a quarter of an hour; and, of courſe, cannot be very punctual to his engagements. There is no man ſuf⯑ficiently learned in this place, to know the origin of this method of reckoning.
OF THE ISLAND OF SICILY. FROM BUSCHING, BRYDONE, SWINBURNE, NON, KEYSLER, &c.
[70]CHAP. I. Of the Country, Climate, Productions, &c.
SICILY is in the ſhape of a triangle, ſituated between 37 and 38 degrees, 40 min. North la⯑titude, and between the 12th and 16th degrees of Eaſt longitude; being about two hundred and ten miles long, from Eaſt to Weſt; and one hundred and thirty-three broad, from North to South; three hundred round; and the largeſt of all the Mediterranean iſlands. It was anciently called Sicania; but the Siculi con⯑quering great part of it, gave it the name of Sicilia. It has been held, that Sicily was originally joined to the continent of Italy, but gradually ſeparated from it [71] by the encroachment of the ſea, and the devaſtations of earthquakes. The ſtreights, between Sicily and Ca⯑labria, were, by the Latins, called Fretum Siculum; but its common name is, Il Faro de Meſſina; from Pharus, the light-houſe at the bottom of Cape di Faro. Op⯑poſite this cape, in Calabria, ſtands the rocky pro⯑montory of Scylla, at the diſtance of about five miles acroſs. The ebb and flood, in theſe ſtreights, are very irregular and ſtrong; where it is narroweſt, between Faro and Sciglio, extremely impetuous. The flux of the ſea is much more violent in its deſcent towards Greece, than in its return upwards. During this de⯑ſcent, there is no ſtemming the tide, even in a ſtrong ſoutherly wind; ſo that it is uſual to have the veſſels hauled up along the coaſt of Calabria by men; and it is alſo impracticable for any veſſels to croſs the cur⯑rent, from Calabria to Sicily. Mr. Popowitſch con⯑ceives, that this rapidity proceeds from the courſe of the waters iſſuing out of the Atlantic ocean, into the Mediterranean, which directly bear upon this part of Calabria. It is, therefore, natural to think, that it is this direct impulſe of the ſea, on the coaſt of Calabria, which among the ancients, raiſed ſuch terrifying ideas of Cape Scylla, or Sciglio; for, till experience had ſhewn how to avoid the danger, ſhips were often driven againſt this promontory, and daſhed to pieces. This rock is near two hundred feet high, has a large caſtle on its ſummit; and from it a line of houſes ex⯑tends, [72] on both ſides, in a ſlope, to the beach, ſemicir⯑cular, planted with trees, and ſheltered with very high clifts; containing three or four hundred inhabitants; and gives the tide of prince, to a Calabreſe family. There are many ſmall rocks that ſhew their heads, at the baſe of the large one; and are, probably, the dogs, that are deſcribed as howling round the monſter Scylla.
The whirlpool Charybdis, which was once ſuppoſed to be an abyſs, into which the waters precipitated themſelves, is a kind of vortex, ariſing from the cur⯑rents of the ſea, at particular winds, oppoſing each other. In a calm, and when the South wind does not blow, this place is ſo ſmooth, that a boat may croſs it with ſafety. It lies cloſe on the outſide of the har⯑bour of Meſſina. Veſſels in this paſſage, are obliged to go as near as poſſible to the coaſt of Calabria, to avoid the ſuction occaſioned by the whirling of Charybdis; that when they come to the narroweſt and moſt rapid part of the ſtreights, they are in danger of being carried on the rock of Scylla. From whence the proverb, ſtill applied to thoſe, who, in at⯑tempting to avoid one evil, fall into another.
[73]There is a fine fountain of white marble on the key of Meſſina, repreſenting Neptune holding Scylla and Charybdis chained, under the emblematical figures of two ſea monſters, as repreſented by the poets.
Sicily is ſo hot a country, that even in the begin⯑ning of January, the ſhade is refreſhing; and it is only for a few months, in March, &c. that any chilling winds are felt, and even then a little fire ſuffices to baniſh the cold. The only appearance of winter, is toward the ſummit of Mount Aetna; where ſnow falls, and where it is preſerved for uſe in the following manner. Pits are dug in the open air; and in theſe they lay the ſnow, with ſtraw or ſtubble, and ſalt. Stratum ſuper ſtratum, layer upon layer, and then cover the place with earth. In ſummer, when wanted, one of theſe pits are opened on one ſide, and the ſnow being taken out, the hole is again cloſed.
The hot ſirroc winds are as powerful here as at Naples. Though the iſland appears to be one entire rock, the ſoil is exceedingly fertile. Anciently it was ſtiled the granary of Rome; and now it exports great quantities to Naples, which would otherwiſe be diſtreſſed. It is, however, far from being well culti⯑vated; ſeveral tracts on the weſtern ſide lying waſte. Its wine is excellent, as are alſo all fruits, together with honey, oil, ſalt, ſaffron, and ſugar; which laſt [74] is produced in the neighbourhood of Mount Aetna. All the coaſts afford good fiſheries, particularly for [...]unny; the cattle are fine, and all ſorts of game in plenty. Great profits are made here of ſilk, where it was introduced in 1130, from the Holy Land, and hence ſoon ſpread to Naples, Spain, and the French provinces bordering on Italy. In this iſland are alſo found gems, or marble ſtones; metals and minerals, as gold, ſilver, copper, tin, lead, iron, allum, and a variety of hot baths, and medicinal ſprings.
Many of their ſprings are boiling hot; others ſtill more ſingular, are colder than ice, and yet never freeze.
In ſeveral places, they have fountains, that throw up a kind of oil on their ſurface, which the peaſants burn in lamps, and uſe for many other purpoſes. There is ſtill one more remarkable at Nicoſia, called Il fonia Canaletto. This is covered with a thick ſcum, like pitch, which the country people eſteem a ſove⯑reign remedy in rheumatic, and other complaints.
The water of a ſmall lake, near Naſo, is celebrated for dying every thing, put into it, black; though the wa⯑ter is remarkably pure and tranſparent. They have a va⯑riety of ſulphureous baths, where the patient is thrown into a profuſe ſweat, only from the heat of the vapour. [75] About a mile and a half from Palermo, at a ſmall beach where the people go to ſwim; there are many ſprings of warm water, that riſe even with the ſea, at the depth of five or ſix feet.
Brydone is of opinion, that not only Mount Aetna, but the greateſt part of Sicily, and almoſt the whole of the circumjacent iſlands, have been originally formed by ſubterraneous fire; from the diſtant hot ſprings, and from throwing lava, pumice, and tuffa, at a great diſtance from Aetna.
At Trapany is a conſiderable coral-fiſhery; in ſhort, whatever ſeems requiſite in point of neceſſity, delight, or ornament, this country affords in ſuch a liberal manner; that the inhabitants, notwithſtanding how much it is burdened by their viceroys, live at their eaſe and grow rich.
The great ſtanding commodity, as I have obſerved, is wheat. They preſerve their grain, not by expoſing it to the air, as we do, but by ſhutting it up in pits, or where the ſoil is dry, or in caverns in the rock. Theſe open by a ſmall hole at top, and widen below; here they pour down their wheat, after it has been made ex⯑ceedingly dry; and, ramming it hard, they cover up the hole, to protect it from rain; and aſſure us, it will preſerve in this manner for many years.
[76]The ſoda is a plant much cultivated here, and turns out to good account. This is the vegetable, that by the action of the fire, is afterwards converted into mir⯑rors and chryſtals. Great quantities are ſent annually to Venice, to ſupply the glaſs-houſes. Their honey is delicious, even ſuperior to that of Minorca. It is found by the peaſants in the hollows of trees, and rocks. The ſugar-cane thrives well here, and they make ſugar enough for home-conſumption. Liquo⯑rice juice is preferred both here and in Calabria. The juice is ſqueezed out of the roots; after which it is boiled to a conſiſtency, and formed into cakes, which are packed up with bay-leaves, and exported in the ſame order as we receive them.
In ſome of the Northern parts of the iſland, they find ſhell-fiſh, that produces a kind of flax, of which gloves and ſtockings are made. This is the muſcle, found in great quantities at Tarentum.
The piſtachio nut is much cultivated here, and with great ſucceſs. Theſe trees, like many others, are male and female; the male is always barren; but, unleſs a quantity of theſe are mixed in every planta⯑tion, the piſtachio-tree never bears a nut. But of all the variety cultivated in Sicily, the manna-tree is eſteemed the moſt profitable. It is a kind of aſh, and reſembles it much. About the beginning of Auguſt, [77] during the greateſt heat, an inciſion is made in the bark near the root, and a thick, whitiſh liquor is im⯑mediately diſcharged from the wound, which ſoon hardens in the ſun; when it is carefully taken off, and and gathered into boxes. They renew theſe inciſions every day during the ſeaſon; wounding the tree on one ſide only, reſerving the other ſide for the next year.
The cantharides fly is a Sicilian commodity, found on ſeveral trees of Aetna.
The marbles of Sicily would be a great ſource of opulence, if the quarries were encouraged; at Cen⯑torbi, they have a kind of ſoft ſtone, that diſſolves in water, and is uſed to waſh linen inſtead of ſoap, from which property it is called Pietra Saponaro; ſoapy ſtone. They likewiſe find here, as well as in Calabria, the celebrated ſtone, which, on being watered, and ex⯑poſed to a pretty violent degree of heat, produces a plentiful crop of muſhrooms: but, it would be end⯑leſs to give an account of all the various commodities, and curious productions of this iſland. It is alſo well watered; for it has five principal rivers.
CHAP. II. Of their Hiſtory.
[78]SICILY has had many maſters, and being claſſic ground, it may not be unentertaining to our readers, to have a ſhort ſketch of its hiſtory. This iſland was invaded by the Greeks, ſix or ſeven centuries before the birth of Chriſt, and they became blended with the natives. Ariſtocracy prevailed firſt; tyranny ſucceeded, under Phalaris oſ Agrigentum, ſix hundred years before Chriſt; and democracy followed. Syracuſe went to pieces by diſſention, and their arts and ſciences fell before it. Soon after the ſettlement of the Gre⯑cians; the Carthaginians, from Africa, invaded it with large bodies of forces; and, about five hundred before Chriſt, made themſelves maſters of all the Weſtern parts. The old inhabitants, the Siculi, kept the midland county, and the Greeks the eaſtern coaſts.
Dionyſius, the elder, had the ſupreme command at Syracuſe. Avarice, deſpotiſm, and cruelty, marked [79] his reign; and his ſon, Dionyſius, the younger, ſuc⯑ceeded him, who was the greater tyrant of the two▪ Agathocles, a tyrant, however, ſeized the throne, and deluged the country with blood. This man, at war with the Carthaginians, drove them off his coaſt, fol⯑lowed them to Africa, routed them in a pitched battle, burnt their fleet, and laid their territory waſte. But the Sicilian forces were men of no principle; murder, and riot enſued upon the victory. They murdered the friends and children of their king; he eſcaped to Sicily, and there met a death which his crimes de⯑ſerved.
Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, now took the lead, re⯑duced all parties to obedience; but, making Sicily feel the weight of his hand, the Sicilians ſoon drove him out. At this time, a crew of miſcreant Romans took Meſſina, ſlaughtered the inhabitants; eſlabliſhed a republic there, and became troubleſome to Hiero II. whom the Greeks raiſed to the chieſ command at Sy⯑racuſe. He leagued with Carthage to turn out the Romans; but, being aſſiſted from Italy, defeated the Carthaginians, and Hiero became an ally of the re⯑public. This began the firſt punic war.* Hamilcar Barcas long ſupported the African cauſe; but, not [80] ſuccceding to his wiſhes, led the Carthaginians to pur⯑chaſe peace of the prince of Sicily. This did for ſome time; but the vanquiſhed party gaining ſtrength, Hannibal, Hamilcar's ſon, perſuaded them to renew the combat; and for ſixteen years carried war into the heart of the Roman territories. This was the ſecond punic war. Hiero, of Syracuſe, kept terms with both parties; but, being ſucceeded by his grandſon Hiero⯑nymus, who contracted an alliance with Carthage, he ſoon fell a victim to his own folly. Syracuſe was now independent; but Marcellus ſoon after beſieged it, under the advice of Archimedes, and took it.
From this time, Sicily relinquiſhed all martial ideas, for many generations; the people turned their thoughts to peace and agriculture, till, in 827, the Sa⯑racens ſubdued the country, and choſe Palermo for their capital, and the ſtandard of Mahomet triumphed for about two hundred years.
Not many years afterwards, the emperor Charles VI. forced him to relinquiſh Sicily, and take that of Sardinia in lieu of it: but, as the Spaniards had no concern in theſe bargains, they made a ſudden attempt to recover Sicily; in this they failed, owing to the vi⯑gilance of the Engliſh admiral, Byng, who deſtroyed their fleet in 1718.
In 1734, the Spaniards reſumed their deſign with ſucceſs. The infant, Don Carlos, drove the Germans out, and was crowned king of the two Sicilies, at Pa⯑lermo: this kingdom being ceded to him, on con⯑dition it was never united to Spain. When he took the crown of Spain in 1759, he transferred that of Sicily to his ſecond ſon, Ferdinand the Third of Sicily, and Fourth of Naples; his eldeſt ſon being an idiot, and eſtabliſhed the ſucceſſion to the heirs male of Ferdinand, and his younger brother; and, in de⯑fault of male iſſue, to the females.
CHAP. III. Of Mount Aetna.
[83]THE principal mountain is Aetna; a volcano, that appears at ſea, when firſt diſcovered, as a prodigious chimney, or a very large rugged pillar. The perpendicular height, to the the top, is between two and three miles; ſome have imagined it more, and ſome rather leſs.
The whole mountain is divided into three diſtinct regions; the fertile, the woody, and the barren. Theſe three are as different, both in climate and pro⯑ductions, as the three zones of the earth. The fertile region ſurrounds the foot of the mountain, and is rich in the extreme, to the extent of about fourteen or fif⯑teen miles, where the woody region begins; being compoſed almoſt entirely of lava; which, after a number of ages, is, at laſt, converted into the moſt fertile of ſoils. From Catania, to Nicoleſi, twelve miles up the mountain; though its per⯑pendicular [84] elevation is not, probably, more than three thouſand feet; the climate, ſays Brydone, who aſcended it in 1770, was totally changed. It was at the latter end of the month of May; and, at Catania, the harveſt was entirely over, and the heats inſup⯑portable. Here they were more moderate; and, in many places, the corn is as yet green. The road up was very bad, over old lavas, and mouths of extin⯑tinguiſhed volcanoes, now converted into corn-fields, vineyards, and orchards. The fruit of this region is reckoned the fineſt in Sicily, particularly the figs.
The lavas, forming this region of the mountain, have thrown up an infinite number of beautiful little mountains; every where ſcattered on the immenſe de⯑clivity of Aetna, all of a regular figure, and almoſt covered with beautiful trees, and the richeſt verdure. Each of theſe mountains has been transformed by one irruption, and, perhaps, in the courſe of a few days; in the irruption of 1669, the ſtones and aſhes, thrown out for months, formed a mountain of a great ſize, ſeven or eight miles round, and a thouſand feet in perpen⯑dicular height; other mountains are not above three or four miles round, and three or four hundred feet high.
[85]The progreſs of an irruption is as follows. The mountain, after ſhaking for vent, burſts open, ſome⯑where in its ſide. At firſt, it only ſends forth thick ſmoke, and ſhowers of aſhes, that lays waſte the ad⯑jacent country. Theſe are ſoon followed by red-hot ſtones, and rocks of a great ſize, thrown to an im⯑menſe height in the air. The fall of theſe ſtones, with the aſhes, form the mountains mentioned. After the new mountain is formed, the lava generally burſts out, from its lower ſide, and braving every thing before it, is generally terminated by the ſea. It ſometimes hap⯑pens, though rarely, that the lava burſts out at once, from the ſide of the mountain, without all theſe atten⯑dant circumſtances, as is the caſe with Veſuvius; where, the elevation being ſo much ſmaller, the melted matter is generally carried up into the crater of the moun⯑tain, diſcharging ſhowers of ſtones and aſhes from the mouth; without forming any new mountain, only adding conſiderably to the old one. At laſt, the lava, riſing near the ſummit, burſts the ſides of the crater, and runs down in an ocean of liquid fire. Aetna, being on a much larger ſcale, one crater is not enough to give its lava vent.
Brydone was well aſſured, by a perſon of credit, that he ſaw, in an irruption of Aetna, large rocks of fire diſ⯑charged to the height of ſome thouſand feet, with a noiſe more terrible than that of thunder. This perſon [86] took notice, that from their greateſt height of theſe rocks of fire, till they reached the ground, it was twenty-one ſeconds of time; which, according to philoſophic meaſurement, muſt have been upwards of ſeven thou⯑ſand feet.
We cannot pretend to follow Mr. Brydone, through all his deſcription of this mountain. Thoſe who wiſh for more information muſt have recourſe to his tour through Sicily and Malta; but we will mention ſome of the moſt curious particularities. The country of Hybla, celebrated for its honey, was overwhelmed by an irruption; it was called Mel Paſſi; but, when overwhelmed, became barren, and was called Mal Paſſi. In a ſecond irruption, by a ſhower of aſhes on it, it was again rendered fertile, and its name was then changed to Bel Paſſi; but, in the great volcanic irruption of 1669, it was laid under an ocean of fire, and reduced to the utmoſt ſtate of barrenneſs, and has ſince been called Mal Paſſi. The lava, however, in its courſe over this beautiful country, has left ſeveral little iſlands, or hillocks, uncovered; juſt enough to ſhew what it formerly was. Theſe make a ſingular appearance, in all the bloom of luxuriant vegetation, ſurrounded, and rendered almoſt inacceſſible, by large fields of black and rugged lava, that iſſued from a mountain not more than three hundred feet high, firſt formed itſelf by an irruption of Aetna.
[87] Maſſa ſays, that in ſome irruptions of Aetna, the lava has poured down with ſuch a ſudden impetuoſity; that, in the courſe of a few hours, churches, palaces, and villages, have been melted down, and the whole run off in fuſion, without leaving the leaſt mark of their former exiſtence: for, theſe churches and vil⯑lages having been built with lava, it is the property of ſuch matter, to melt down inſtantly, on being over-run with other melted lava, and thus mingle in the general fuſion.
The great irruption of 1669, after ſhaking the whole country round for four months, and forming a very large mountain of ſtones and aſhes, burſt out about a mile above the mountain Montpeliere, then below it; and, deſcending like a torrent, bore directly againſt the middle of that mountain; and, as they pre⯑tend, perforated it from ſide to ſide: however, it is certain, it pierced it very deep. It then divided into two branches; and, ſurrounding this mountain, joined again on its ſouth ſide, laying waſte the whole country, between that and Catania; ſcaled the walls of that city, and poured its flaming torrent into the ocean. In its way, it is ſaid to have deſtroyed the poſſeſſions of thirty thouſand people, and reduced them to beggary; it formed ſeveral hills, where vallies were before, and filled up a large lake. Among other [88] ſingular circumſtances, ſays Brydone, the following is well aſcertained.
A vineyard, belonging to a convent of jeſuits, lay directly in its way. This vineyard was formed on an ancient lava, probably a thin one, with a number of caverns and crevices under it; the liquid lava enter⯑ing into theſe caverns, ſoon filled them up; and, by de⯑grees, tore up the vineyard; and the jeſuits, who every moment expected to ſee it buried, beheld, with amaſement, the whole field begin to move off. It was carried, on the ſurface of the lava, to a conſiderable diſtance: though the greateſt part was deſtroyed, yet ſome of it remains to this day.
There is a great wildneſs, ferocity, and credulity, in the inhabitants of this mountain; they conceive the crater of Aetna, to be the mouth of hell. They, thinking, ſays Brydone, that we were come to look for hidden treaſures, flocked round me, and watched every bit of ſtone I took up; ſeemed to entertain a bad opinion of the Engliſh, conſidering them as here⯑tics, deſerving of damnation; and gave me to under⯑ſtand, that the Engliſh had a queen, Anne Boleyn, who was wife to a Chriſtian King; that ſhe made a heretic of him, and was, in conſequence, condemned to burn for ever in Mount Aetna. I aſked them, if her huſ⯑band was there too, for he deſerved it much better [89] than ſhe. Sicuro ſaid, they are ſafe enough, and all his heretic ſubjects; and, if you are of that number, you need not be in ſuch a hurry to get there; you will be ſure of it at laſt.
On leaving Nicoleſi, and in an hour and a half tra⯑velling over barren aſhes and lava, we arrived on the confines of the woody region, or temperate zone. As ſoon as we entered theſe delightful foreſts, we ſeemed got into another world. The air, which was before ſultry and hot, was now cool and refreſhing, and every breeze was loaded with a thouſand perfumes; the whole ground being covered with the richeſt aromatic plants. Many parts of this region are, ſurely, the moſt heavenly ſpots upon earth; and, if Aetna reſembles hell, it may, with equal juſtice, be ſaid to reſemble pa⯑radiſe without.
It is, indeed, a curious conſideration, that this mountain ſhould re-unite every beauty, and every hor⯑ror; but, our aſtoniſhment encreaſes, in caſting our eyes on its higher regions. There we behold in perpetual union, the two elements that are at con⯑tinual war, an immenſe gulph of fire, for ever exiſting in the midſt of ſnows, which it has not power to melt; and immenſe fields of ſnow and ice, for ever ſurround⯑ing this gulph of fire, which they have not power to ex⯑tinguiſh.
[90]The woody region aſcends for about eight or nine miles, forming a girdle of the brighteſt green all round the mountain. Brydone, and his company, in the courſe of one night, got about half through, and reached, before ſun-ſet, a large cave; where they lodged. It was ſurrounded with ſtately and majeſtic oaks; they kindled a fire, and made comfortable beds of the dried leaves. The thermometer, which was at 71, at Nicoleſi, now fell below 60. The barometer ſtood at 24. 2.
Not a great way from this cavern, are two of the moſt beautiful mountains that ſpring from Aetna. I mounted a mule, and rode to the top of one of them, a little before ſun-ſet. The proſpect of Sicily, with the ſurrounding ſea, and its iſlands, was wonderfully noble.
The next day we ſcrambled, on foot, ſeven miles, over the barren regions, or frigid zone, till we reach⯑ed, a little before break of day, the ruins of an an⯑cient ſtructure, called the philoſopher's tower; ſuppo⯑ſed to have been built by the philoſopher Empedocles, who took up his habitation here, the better to ſtudy the nature of the mountain. The mercury here fell to 20. 6. we had now time, ſays Brydone, to pay our ado⯑rations, in ſilent contemplation of the ſublime objects of nature. The ſky was clear, and the immenſe vault [91] of the heavens, appeared in awful majeſty and ſplen⯑dor. We found ourſelves more ſtruck with venera⯑tion than below; the number of ſtars ſeeming to be in⯑finitely increaſed, and the light of each appeared brighter than uſual; the whiteneſs of the milky way was like a pure flame, that ſhot acroſs the heavens; and, with the naked eye, we could diſcern cluſters of ſtars, inviſible in the regions below. We were amazed at the diſtinctneſs of viſion, not recollecting that we had now paſſed through ten or twelve thouſand feet of groſs vapour, that blunts and confuſes every ray, before it reaches the ſurface of the earth. We took notice of ſeveral of theſe meteors, called falling ſtars; which ſeemed as much above, as they do when ſtand⯑ing on the earth below.
In about an hour's climbing, we reached a place where there was no ſnow; and where a warm, and comfortable vapour iſſued from the mountain, which induced us to halt. The mercury here was at 19. 6 ½. The thermometer three degrees below the freezing point; and, before we left the ſummit of Aetna, it fell two degrees more, to 27. From that ſpot, it was only about three hundred yards to the higheſt ſummit; where we arrived in full time, to ſee the moſt won⯑derful, and moſt ſublime ſight in nature.
[92]Deſcription muſt ever fall ſhort; for no imagina⯑tion has dared to form an idea, of ſo glorious, and ſo magnificent a ſcene; nor is there on the ſurface of the globe, any one point, that unites ſo many awful and ſublime objects.—The immenſe elevation, from the ſurface of the earth; drawn, as it were, to a ſingle point, without any neighbouring mountain, for the ſenſes and imagination to reſt on, and recover from their aſtoniſhment, in their way down to the world: this point, or pinnacle, raiſed on the point of a bottomleſs gulph, as old as the world; often diſ⯑charging rivers of fire, and throwing out burning rocks, with a noiſe that ſhakes the whole iſland. Add to this, the unbounded extent of the proſpect, compre⯑hending the greateſt diverſity, and moſt beautiful ſcenery in nature; with the riſing ſun, advancing in the Eaſt, to illumine the wondrous ſcene.
The whole atmoſphere, by degrees, kindle up, and ſhew, dimly and faintly, the boundleſs proſpect round. Both ſea and land look dark and confuſed, as if only emerging from their original chaos; and light and darkneſs ſeem ſtill undivided; till the morning, advancing by degrees, completes the ſepara⯑tion. The ſtars are extinguiſhed, and the ſhades diſ⯑appear. The foreſts, which till now, ſeemed black and bottomleſs gulphs; from whence no ray was re⯑flected, to ſhew their form or colours, appear a new [93] creation, riſing to the ſight, catching life and beauty from every increaſing beam. The ſcene ſtill en⯑larges, and the horizon widens and expands around; till the ſun, like the Creator, appears in the Eaſt; and, with his plaſtic ray, completes the mighty ſcene.—All appears enchantment, and it is with difficulty we can believe that we are ſtill on earth. The ſenſes, unac⯑cuſtomed to the ſublimity of ſuch a ſcene, are bewil⯑dered and confounded; and it is not till after ſome time, they are capable of ſeparating and judging of the objects that compoſe it. The body of the ſun is ſeen riſing from the ocean; immenſe tracks, both of ſea and land, intervening. The iſlands of Lipari, Panari, Alicudi, Strombolo and Volcano, with their ſmoaking ſummits, appear under your feet; and you look down on the whole of Sicily as on a map, and can trace every river, through all its windings, from its ſource to its mouth. The view is abſolutely boundleſs on every ſide; nor is there one object within the circle of viſion to interrupt it, ſo that the ſight is every where beſt in the immenſity; and I am perſuaded, continues Brydone, it is only from the im⯑perfection of our organs, that the coaſts of Africa are not diſcovered; as they are certainly above the hori⯑zon. Could the eye ſee ſo far, the diſtance of two thouſand miles would be diſcoverable, from the top of Aetna. At Malta, which is near two hundred miles, they perceived the irruptions from the ſecond region [94] of Aetna; and that iſland is often diſcovered when we are half-way up the mountain. Maſſa, a Sicilian writer, ſays, that the African coaſt, as well as that of Naples, with many of its iſlands, have been ſeen from the top of Aetna.
The circumference of the great circle of Aetna, that is, of the woody part that ſurrounds it, is not leſs than ſeventy or eighty miles; and the circumference of the mountain at bottom, according to Recupero, is an hundred and eighty-three miles.
The preſent crater, at the top of this immenſe vol⯑cano, is a circle of about three miles and a half. It goes ſhelving down on each ſide, and forms a regular hollow, like a vaſt amphitheatre. From many places, of this ſpace, iſſue volumes of ſulphureous ſmoke; and, immediately on clearing the crater, rolls down the mountain ſide like a torrent; till reaching that part of the atmoſphere, of equal gravity with itſelf, it ſhoots off horizontally, and forms a large track in the air, according to the direction of the wind. We did not attempt to go down into the crater; in the centre of which is the great mouth of the volcano. We looked down, and beheld it with awe and horror, and were not ſurpriſed, it had been conſidered as the place of the damned. When we reflect on the immenſity of its depth, the vaſt cells and caverns, whence ſo [95] many lava have iſſued; the force of its internal fire, to carry up theſe lavas ſo high into the air, with all the dreadful accompaniments; the boiling of the mat⯑ter, the ſhaking of the mountain, the exploſions of the flaming rocks, &c. we muſt allow, that the moſt enthuſiaſtic imagination, in the midſt of all its terrors, hardly ever formed an idea of a hell more dreadful.
Empedocles was a native of Agrigentum, and is ſup⯑poſed to have died four hundred years before the Chriſtian aera. Perhaps his vanity, more than his phi⯑loſophy, led him to have erected the philoſopher's tower; nay, it is ſaid to have carried him ſtill farther; that he might be conſidered as a god, and that the people might ſuppoſe he was taken up to heaven, he is recorded to have thrown himſelf headlong into the great gulph of Mount Aetna, never ſuppoſing his death could be diſcovered to mankind; but the treacherous mountain threw out his ſlippers, which were of braſs, and announced to the world the fate of this philoſopher.
We left the ſummit of the mountain at ſix in the morning, and it was eight at night before we reached Catania. On firſt entering the foreſts, the trees were ſtill as bare as in December; but, after we had de⯑ſcended a few miles, we found ourſelves in the mild⯑eſt, and ſofeſt of climates; the trees in full verdure, [96] and the fields covered with all the flowers of ſummer; but, as ſoon as we got out of the woods, and entered the torrid zone below them, we found the heat inſup⯑portable, and ſuffered dreadfully before we reached the city.
The productions of the iſland are numberleſs, ſome of which I ſhall mention by and by; but Aetna alone affords a greater variety, than many of the moſt ex⯑tenſive kingdoms; and is, not leſs an epitome of the whole earth, in its ſoil and climate, than in the va⯑riety of its productions. Beſides the corn, the wine, the oil, the ſilk, the ſpice, the delicious fruits of its lower region; the beautiful foreſts, the flocks, the game, the tar, the cork, the honey, of its ſecond; the ſnow and ice of its third; it affords, from its caverns, a variety of minerals, as cinnabar, mercury, ſulphur, allum, nitre, and vitriol; ſo that this wonderful moun⯑tain produces every neceſſary, and every luxury of life.
We are not then to be ſurpriſed at the obſtinate at⯑tachment of the people to this mountain; and that all its terrors have not been able to drive them away from him; for, though he ſometimes chaſtiſes, he mixes ſuch bleſſings with his chaſtiſements, that their affections can never be eſtranged; for, at the ſame [97] time, that he threatens with a rod of iron, he pours down upon them all the bleſſings of the ape of gold.
Swinburne deſcribes the remarkable large cheſnut-tree, in the firſt region of Aetna, called, from its aſto⯑niſhing ſize, Caſtagno di cento cavalli, as ſuppoſing it ca⯑pable of ſheltering a hundred horſe under the canopy of its boughs. It ſtands ſingle, on a gentle riſing; the ground round it, an open paſture. Its height has been diminiſhed, by cutting the tops of its branches, to encreaſe its bearing. It appears to be a group of trees; but is, in fact, an old trunk ſplit down to the ſurface of the earth, but united in one body at a very ſmall depth below. Its circumference, one inch from the ground, is one hundred and ninety-ſix Engliſh feet. From this trunk riſe five diviſions; each of which ſends forth enormous branches. The outer ſur⯑face of theſe diviſions, or ſtems, are covered with bark; the inner ſurface has no bark, and they all turn towards a common centre; a proof that all theſe ſtems were once united. Between two of the ſtems, two coaches may drive a-breaſt; and, in the centre of the five is built a hut, where the fruit of the tree is de⯑poſited. It is a wonderful production of the veget⯑able kingdom.
CHAP IV. Of the Cities, and their Inhabitants, particularly of Meſſina.
[98]SICILY conſiſts of three provinces, which are called Vallies, and has two principal cities, Pa⯑lermo and Meſſina. Syracuſe was anciently the ca⯑pital, and a very flouriſhing republic; but is, at pre⯑ſent, extremely reduced by a ſeries of calamities, eſ⯑pecially by the earthquake in 1693. It is an arch⯑biſhopric; has a harbour and ſome fortifications. It was taken by the Spaniards in 1735. Palermo is now the capital; though Meſſina claims to be the ca⯑pital alſo.
Meſſina being the firſt city we approach, in our way from Calabria, we will ſpeak of Meſſina firſt. This city is reckoned about twelve miles from Reggio, on the coaſt of Calabria. The harbour is one of the moſt beautiful ever formed by nature; on the North⯑ſide runs, Weſtward, a ſemicircular tongue, or ſlip of [99] land; on which ſtands the light-houſe, and ſome ſalt ponds; on the oppoſite ſide of the harbour ſtands the city, upon riſing ground, on a ſemicircular ſhore; forming together a circular harbour, and ſomething like a horſe-ſhoe; open to the ſea at the Weſt, but commanded by four forts; and, at the upper end of the harbour, in the centre, ſtands the governor's houſe, and a pentagon fortreſs, called the citadel; behind the city, riſe immediately a number of lofty moun⯑tains, well ſecured, and Aetna as a pinnacle above the whole.
From the palace, now the governor's houſe, at the foot of theſe mountains, ran one of the broadeſt, cleaneſt, and fineſt quays in Europe; ornamented with ſtatues and fountains, more than a mile in length; with a beautiful range of regular lofty houſes; with nine⯑teen gates, anſwering to as many ſtreets; it followed the ſemicircular bend of the port, quite to the ſea, hiding the lower houſes of the city, and ſhowing only the more beautiful, that ſtand on the riſe of the hill above it. I ſay ran, for this beautiful pile of buildings was thrown down in the earthquake of 1783, but is to be rebuilt. The anchorage is beyond the reach of a cannon-ſhot from the ſea, and there is two hun⯑dred fathom water. The harbour, in ſhort, is ſo deep, cloſe to the quay, that veſſels of the greateſt tonnage can unload upon it; and the harbour is large enough [100] to contain all the ſhips of Europe. Meſſina has been declared a free port ſince 1728.
The inner part of Meſſina is dirty, ſays Swinburne, though it contains a great number of churches, and large ſubſtantial dwellings. De Non ſays, there are hand⯑ſome ſtreets, beautiful ſquares, elegant marble foun⯑tains, equeſtrian and pedeſtrian ſtatues of bronze; large and handſome churches, vaſt convents, and well-built hotels. He was there in 1778. Swinburne, about the ſame time. The population, ſays De Non, formerly correſponded with the appearance of the city; but the plague of 1743 or 1744, reduced it from one hundred thouſand ſouls, to thirty thouſand. Meſſina could never recover this loſs; and, of courſe, the remote parts of the city are deſerted. The cathe⯑dral is Gothic, and enriched with Saracenic moſaics on the altars and ſhrines. In the treaſury of the church is preſerved, the Palladium of Meſſina. This is a letter from the Virgin Mary to its citizens, in latin the purport of which is, "An acknowledgment from her, that her ſon is the ſon of God; in his nature, both God and man; and that, after his reſurrection, he aſcended into heaven; and that Paul was an apoſtle, choſen to preach the way of truth; dated in the year of Chriſt, forty-two." The ſtory is as follows: After St. Paul had made ſome ſtay at Meſſina, the Meſ⯑ſineſe prevailed on him to return to Jeruſalem, [101] with an embaſſy of four perſons, ſent by the city to the Virgin Mary. Their excellencies, ſays Swinburne, were graciouſly received by her; and brought back a letter, written by her own hand, in the Hebrew tongue, which St. Paul tranſlated into Greek. By the irrup⯑tion of the Saracens, this invaluable treaſure was loſt, and utterly forgotten, till the year 1467; when Con⯑ſtantine Laſcaris, a refugee Greek, found a copy of it; and, turning it into Latin, made it known to the ci⯑tizens, and then to all the Catholic world; and its authenticity is ſo well eſtabliſhed at Meſſina, that whoever confeſſes a doubt on the ſubject, is conſidered as an infidel.
In the dates to this curious letter, ſays Swinburne, for there are more than one, there are ſome aſtronomi⯑cal blunders; and Laſcaris having annexed the date, Anno Chriſti 42, was not aware, that Denis the Little, a Syrian monk, in the ſixth century, was the firſt that made uſe of the aera, that commences at our Saviour's birth.
This favoured letter, is that on which the Meſ⯑ſineſe built their pretenſions to pre-eminence, over the whole world; to its virtues and patronage they attribute every piece of good fortune, and to their own unworthineſs all ſiniſter events that have befallen them.
[102] Brydone ſays, the number of gallies and galliots, in this harbour, adds greatly to its beauty. They are com⯑miſſioned to cruize round the iſland, in order to protect it from the ſudden invaſions of the Barbarians, who are often very troubleſome on the South coaſt. Theſe veſſels, when ſailing out of the harbour, make a very pictureſque appearance; their oars rowing all together, and with the greateſt regularity. There are nine or ten men to each oar. Rowing ſeems the hardeſt work imaginable, for they all riſe at every ſtroke of the oar; and when they pull, they almoſt throw them⯑ſelves on their backs, and ſeem to exert their utmoſt force. Theſe galley-ſlaves are chained to their oars, and ſleep every night on the bare benches, without any thing to throw over them.
On the 20th of May is celebrated a great feſtival here, in honour of St. Francis. The Saint is carried in proceſſion, with vaſt ceremony, to the top of a hill, without the city; and receives there the homage of the people with becoming dignity. After this, he is lodged again in his chapel, and the people dance and make merry till ſun-ſet. The aſſembly-room was one fine green plain on the top of this hill, and a range of two thouſand ſmall cannon were fired, ſo quick after each other, by a train of running fire, that the ear could not ſeparate the reports; their echo [103] among the mountains, prolonged the ſound, and had a fine effect.
The view, from the top of this, is beautiful beyond deſcription. The ſtreights, between Sicily and Italy, appear like a vaſt majeſtic river, flowing ſlowly be⯑twixt two ridges of mountains; its banks adorned with rich corn-fields, vineyards, orchards, towns, vil⯑lages, and churches; and the proſpect terminated on each ſide, by the tops of high mountains covered with wood.
The lark-ſpur, Venus' look-glaſs, hawks-weed, and very fine lupins, grow wild over all the mountains round Meſſina; alſo a variety of flowering ſhrubs. All the fields are covered with the richeſt white clover, intermixed with a variety of aromatic plants, which perfume the air, and render their walks de⯑lightful. There are many fine ſhady walks on all ſides of Meſſina. The houſes are large, and moſt of the articles of life cheap, and in plenty, particu⯑larly fiſh; which is reckoned better here, than any where elſe in the Mediterranean. Hire of lodging is next to nothing. Almoſt half that noble range of buildings, on the quay, was abſolutely uninhabited, even before the laſt earthquake; ſo that the owners are glad to get tenants on any terms; of courſe, all things conſidered, Brydone is of opinion, it is a place [104] admirably calculated for valetudinarians, who ſearch a warm climate. Even their winter-ſeaſon is prefe⯑rable to that of Naples; and it has many advantages over Naples. They have, indeed, heavy rains ſome⯑times, for two or three weeks, but they never laſt longer; for even in theſe, there are ſome fair hours every day; and the ſoil being a light gravel, the rain is no ſooner over, than the walks are dry.
CHAP. V. Of Palermo and its Environs.
PALERMO is the capital of Sicily, and the reſi⯑dence of the viceroy; well fortified, with a har⯑bour, the entrance to which is defended by two ſtrong citidels. It carries on a briſk trade, and is ſaid to contain upwards of twenty thouſand inhabitants. It is an archbiſhopric, united with Monte Reale; has a univerſity, fifty-two convents, twenty-two nunneries, and is the uſual abode of many princes, and others of [105] the chief nobility. The city is divided into four di⯑viſions; in the firſt is the royal palace, where the vice⯑roy reſides, and the parliament holds its meetings, and a large hoſpital; in the ſecond, the cathedral, called in Italy, La Matrice; in the third, the town houſe, a handſome edifice; and in the fourth, a Dominican church, and ſeveral other fine buildings. This city ſuffered much in the earthquakes of 1693 and 1726.
The more we ſee of Palermo, ſays De Non, and the more minutely it is examined, the more we ſhall be ſenſible of its beauty; handſome ſtreets, large and beautiful ſquares, public fountains, and private ones, even on the fourth ſtory of every houſe; ſuperb churches, and delightful walks; a good air, a vaſt po⯑pulation, with a cleanlineſs not to be found in any other city of the kingdom; a tolerable extenſive com⯑merce, though not a twelfth part of what it might be; a great number of houſes, at once rich, noble, and tri⯑umphant; a warm climate, lively paſſions, pleaſing women, and the luxury of the Sybaerites, are all found there.
Palermo, the capital of Sicily, waſhed by the Tyrrhenian ſea, ſays Biſani, is ſituated at the foot of a chain of mountains, which forms a kind of amphi⯑theatre, and ſupplies it with plenty of clear, pure, and [106] healthy water. Though, apparently a ſmall city, viewed from without, it is a large, fine, place; ſix miles in circumference. Two large ſtreets, more than a mile long, croſs each other in right angles, and divide it into four parts, correſponding to four prin⯑cipal gates. Theſe ſtreets are well paved, and have a broad pavement for foot paſſengers; fine buildings, and well lighted at night. The central place, where the great ſtreets croſs each other, forming a fine octagon, is called Piazza Villena; each ſide of which exhibits a re-union of the three orders of architecture, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian; three ſtatues and a fountain. there is not ſuch a coup d'oeil, in any other city in Europe. The leſſer ſtreets run parallel to theſe great ones.
The places, the ſtatues, the obeliſks, the fountains, are not the moſt remarkable objects here. Beſides the fountain De Preteur, which, for the beauty of its marble, its deſign, the great number of animals, mon⯑ſters, and ſtatues, of which it is compoſed; its circum⯑ference of five hundred and fifteen feet, and the diſ⯑poſition of its baluſtrades, is allowed by connoiſſeurs, as a chef d'oeuvre of art; the churches are enriched with fine marbles, and alabaſter, peculiar to this iſland; porphyry, precious ſtones, and a profuſion of gold and ſilver veſſels. Some of them boaſt of excellent archi⯑tecture; and, in many, are pictures of the beſt Italian [107] maſters. As the climate inſpires indolence and devo⯑tion, here are no leſs than eighty convents of monks and nuns; which are very humane and charitable. Here are about ſeven hoſpitals, and a general aſylum for the poor.
One of the city gates opens to the marino, a delight⯑ful walk, which conſtitutes one of the great pleaſures of the nobility of Palermo. It is bounded, on one ſide, by the city-wall; and, on the other, by the ſea; from whence there is always an agreeable breeze. In the centre of the marino, they have erected a kind of tem⯑ple, as an orcheſtra for muſic; and, in the ſummer ſeaſons, they are obliged to convert the night into day; the concert does not begin till midnight. At that time, the walk is crouded with carriages, and people on foot; and, the better to favour pleaſure and intrigue, there is an order, that no perſon ſhall carry a light with him. The flambeaux are put out at the city-gate, where the ſervants wait for the return of the carriages; and the company generally continue an hour or two in utter darkneſs; except when the in⯑truding moon, ſays Brydone, with her horns and her chaſtity, comes to diſturb them. The concert ends about two in the morning; when, for the moſt part, every huſband goes home to his own wife. This is an admirable inſtitution, and never produces any ſcan⯑dal. No huſband is ſuch a brute as to deny his wife [108] the marino; and the ladies are ſo cautious and cir⯑cumſpect, on their ſide, that, the more to avoid giving offence, they very often put on maſques.
In this hallowed walk, ſays De Non, the moſt myſte⯑rious obſcurity, and moſt rigorouſly reſpected, reigns. The whole company is intermingled without diſtinc⯑tion. They ſeek for and find each other; ſupper parties are formed, and carried ſnugly into execution; and upon the ſpot, at taverns, built along the walls of the rampart.
Thus do the inhabitants of Palermo vary the order of nature, and preſerve themſelves from feeling, and almoſt from recollecting the heat of their climate. They riſe, ſays De Non, at noon, when the ſea-breeze, which ſprings up at ten, has tempered the heat; they then repair either for buſineſs or pleaſure, to the Caſ⯑ſaro, a large, and ſuperb ſtreet, which croſſes the whole city, from North to South. The prodigious popula⯑tion of Palermo, which is about 110,000 perſons; is as great in proportion as that of Naples, and is here particularly diſcovered. The number of carriages is truly aſtoniſhing; for theſe are ſo much in faſhion at Palermo, that a coach is become a matter of ab⯑ſolute neceſſity. There are no hackney-coaches; thoſe let out for hire, as well as thoſe of the nobility, [109] are antique, inconvenient vehicles, drawn by mules. In ſummer, their carriages are more elegant.
The nobility parade in the Caſſaro, till three in the afternoon; they then dine; thence they go to the Ma⯑rino, where a band of muſic awaits them two hours before night. From hence they paſs to the Converſaziones; or the opera, which is the only public entertainment, beginning an hour before night, and ending as do the Converſaziones, at midnight, or one in the morning; when they return to the Marino, the conſtantly re⯑curring amuſement of the Palermian day. This diur⯑nal round of pleaſure is interrupted, only by the Car⯑nival; which changes the order of enjoyments, only to render them more lively, by the two ſeaſons for the country, which are May and October; and by the feſtival of Saint Roſalia, which exhibits the moſt ſplendid, and moſt agreeable enthuſiaſm of devotion, and which I ſhall ſpeak of in its courſe.
There are a variety of converſaziones every night. There is one general one, ſupported by the ſubſcrip⯑tion of the nobility; open every evening at ſun ſet, and continuing till midnight, when the marino begins. At theſe meetings, the company merely converſe; few play at cards, and theſe not long. At this aſſembly there are a number of apartments, lighted with wax-lights, and kept exceeding cool and agreeable. The [110] private converſaziones are always held, ſays Brydone, in the apartments of lying-in ladies; from this happy climate, childbearing is diveſted of all its terror, and is only conſidered as a party of pleaſure. Brydone went to one of theſe, that of princeſs Palerno, the evening ſhe was brought to bed. The princeſs ſat up in her bed, in an elegant undreſs, with a number of her friends about her; ſhe talked as uſual, and ſeemed perfectly well. The converſation is repeated every night, during her convaleſcence, which gene⯑rally laſts-eleven or twelve days. This cuſtom is uni⯑verſal; and, as the ladies here are very prolific, three or four of theſe meetings occur every night; poſſibly the Marino may not a little contribute towards them.
Mr. Brydone ſpoke ſo free of the ladies of faſhion at Palermo, and his tour to Sicily, being tranſlated into French, and ſpreading to Palermo, the nobility have determined never to pay any attention to letters of recommendation, in favour of the Engliſh, nor re⯑ceive them on their travels. In conſequence of this, Swinburne, who followed Brydone, ſays, he could not obtain acceſs into any family.
The Sicilian ladies, ſays Brydone, marry at thirteen, or fourteen; and are, ſometimes, grandmothers before thirty. I was preſented, by count Stetela, to the prin⯑ceſs [111] Partana, who had twelze children, the eldeſt of whom was a fine girl of fifteen. I talked to the prin⯑ceſs, continues he, for half an hour, and concluded I was ſpeaking to her daughter; and, when the young lady entered, it was not eaſy to ſay which was young⯑eſt, or which was handſomeſt. The princeſs aſſured me, ſhe never enjoyed more perfect health than when in childbed; that, during her pregnancy, ſhe was often indiſpoſed; but that, immediately on delivery, ſhe was cured of all complaints, and was capable of enjoying the company of her friends, even more than at any other time. When I told her that the Engliſh ladies often died in childbed, and that the moſt eaſy de⯑liveries were attended with violent pain and anguiſh; ſhe lamented their fate, and thanked heaven ſhe was born a Sicilian.
Their eaſe, in childbirth, is owing to the climate, which relaxes the frame. Among the cold Alps, half their women die in labour; and thoſe who can afford it, often go dawn to the low countries, ſome weeks before they lie-in, and find their deliveries much eaſier.
Swinburne went out to ſea, purpoſely to view Pa⯑lermo from it; and ſays, its extenſive bay is confined by a circle of mountains, of various elevations and forms; and the ſteeples, cupolas, and towers of the [112] city, riſe on the plain that extends from their foot, and line the ſhore.
Palermo is walled round, almoſt in a circular form, and the principal ſtreets are ſo decorated with ſtatues, fountains, and buildings, as to preſent the idea of a royal city. Moſt of the other ſtreets are narrow and crooked; and, being wretchedly paved, are buried in dirt during the winter. The city is well lighted, with reverberating lamps; and, in wet weather, moveable wooden bridges are provided for croſſing the kennels, which then become rapid torrents.
The cathedral was built in 1185, and is in a very ruinous condition. It is a Gothic edifice, but heavy, and void of all the chaſte proportions of the Grecian art. It contains ſeveral tombs of ſovereigns; and, at the foot of the altar, reſts the heroic earl Roger, con⯑queror of Sicily, and terror of infidels.
Moſt of the churches are rich, in ſilver, gems, and marble; but their architecture, and embelliſh⯑ments, horrid. In ſeveral, the walls within are lined with red, or yellow marble; upon which, from the cieling to the floor, are glued baſſo relievo figures of angels, buſts, and flowers in white marble.
[113]The palace, which ſtands near the ſmall gate, is an immenſe maſs of diſcordant parts, built at different periods. The halls are of noble ſize, the courts of juſtice are held on a ground floor, and batteries of cannon defend the approach.
The aſſemblies, at the viceroy's palaces, ſays Swin⯑burne, gave me an opportunity of ſeeing the whole corps of nobility collected together. The men are rather a comely race; but the ladies are little favoured by nature. Two girls, under eight years of age, heireſſes of great families, and already betrothed, made their appearance in the ball-room, decked out in the very exceſs of the mode; their ſhowy dreſſes, their diminutive ſize, and affected gravity, in dancing a minuet; joined to the fatherly care, their future huſ⯑bands anxiouſly took of them, reminded me of dolls made to move round a table by clock-work.
In the ſtreets women hide their heads, in black veils; a very ancient mode of dreſs in this iſland, and very lately introduced at Naples, and there become faſhionable.
The viceroy, like the viceroy of Ireland, affects in every thing the pageantry of royalty. His train of coaches are as ſplendid; a ſtrong, well-dreſſed body of guards attends his perſon; and, on parade days, his [114] coachmen, poſtillions, and livery-ſervants, are dreſſed in flowing wigs, without hats. When he goes to church, he receives the tribute of a cloud of incenſe; and he, alone, with great ſolemnity, puts on his hat. On the 21ſt of December, he makes an annual viſit to the jails, where he pardons as many priſoners as he pleaſes. All law is that day dormant; and, although the magiſtrates have a right to remonſtrate, he is under no obligation to follow their advice; but, the viceroys are very cautious not to abuſe this privilege. If they pardon, it is on a report from the judges.
The Sicilians, ſays Brydone, appear frank and ſin⯑cere; and their politeneſs does not conſiſt in ſhew and grimace, like ſome of the polite nations of the continent. The viceroy ſets the pattern of hoſ⯑pitality, and he is followed by the reſt of the nobles. Notwithſtanding his great authority, he is affable and familiar, and makes his houſe agreeable to every body. His table is ſerved with elegance and magnificence, much ſuperior to that of his Sicilian majeſty; who eats off a ſervice of plate, at leaſt, three hundred years old, very black and ruſty, as if it had been dug out of Her⯑culaneum.
Sicilian cookery is a mixture of French and Spa⯑niſh; the olio ſtill preſerves its rank and dignity, in the centre of the table, ſurrounded by a numerous [115] train of fricaſees, fricandeaus, ragouts, and pet de loups, like a grave Spaniſh don, amid a number of little ſmart marquiſſes. All the nobility, are magnifi⯑cent in their entertainments; particularly in their de⯑ſerts and ices; of which there is a greater variety than in moſt countries. They are very temperate in their wines; but, having learnt from the Engliſh the method of hob-a-nobbing, and toaſting ladies, they are more free in drinking than they uſed to be; and ſay, the Engliſh have made them drunkards. In their ordinary living, they are very frugal and temperate.
Brydone dined with the biſhop of Agrigentum, the richeſt biſhop in the kingdom; thirty were at table, and there were not leſs than a hundred diſhes, dreſſed with the richeſt and moſt delicate ſauces. By a modern refinement in luxury, they contrive to make the livers of their fowls, grow to a large ſize, and acquire a rich and high flavour; it is a cruel mode, which occaſions lingering death to the poor animal; and it is, there⯑fore, beſt not to mention it. In their deſerts, beſides a variety of fruit, they introduce a profuſion of ices, in the ſhape of peaches, figs, oranges, nuts, &c. The company were chiefly prieſts, but were very fond of punch, which they perſuaded Mr. Brydone and his friend to make; called it Pontio; and ſpoke loudly in its praiſe; declaring Pontio, alluding to Pontius Pilate, was a much better fellow than they had ever taken [116] him for. One of the canons growing ſick, with drinking too much of it, and vomiting, exclaimed, ſhaking his head and groaning, Ah ſignior Capitano, ſapeva ſempre che Pontio era un grande traditore. "I always knew that Pontius was a great traitor." Their converſation ran on the pleaſures of the world; they ſaid they were a happy fraternity; had long exploded every thing that is diſmal and melancholy; and were convinced, a chearful life on earth was the beſt prepa⯑ration for happineſs hereafter; that abſtinence, from lawful pleaſures, was a ſin.
The Sicilians, continues Brydone, have always had the character of being very amorous, and ſurely not without reaſon. The whole nation are poets; even the peaſants; and a man ſtands a poor chance of a miſtreſs, that cannot celebrate her muſes. Gallantry, here, is much on the ſame footing as in Italy. The eſtabliſhment of ciciſbeos is alſo pretty general, though not quite ſo univerſal as on the continent. A breach, however, of the married vow, is not looked upon as a deadly ſin. Huſbands are content; and, like able generals, make up for the loſs of one fortreſs, by taking another. Female licentiouſneſs, however, has, by no means, come to ſuch a height as in Italy. [117] We ſaw a great deal of domeſtic happineſs. Huſbands and wives that truly love one another: ſights that are very rare on the continent. Indeed the ſtyle that young ladies are brought up in here, ſeems to lay a more ſolid foundation for matrimonial happineſs, than either in France or Italy. The young ladies are not ſhut up in convents till the day of their marriage; but live with their parents, and viſit with them, being al⯑lowed as much liberty as with us. In their great aſ⯑ſemblies, we often ſee a number of young people, of both ſexes, get together in a corner, and amuſe them⯑ſelves for hours, at croſs-purpoſes, or ſuch like games, without the mother being at all uneaſy. In general, they are quick and lively, and have a number of thoſe jeux d'eſprit, which is a proof, in all countries, of a familiar intercourſe of the ſexes; for all theſe games are inſipid, if they are not ſeaſoned by ſome⯑thing of that inviſible and ſubtil agency, which ren⯑ders every thing more intereſting, in theſe mixed ſo⯑cieties, than in the lifeleſs one, compoſed of only one ſex.
In the gardens, about Palermo, there are a profu⯑ſion of fine flowers. Swinburne was here in Decem⯑ber, and ſays, the borders were full of roſes, and other flowers in bloom, and very highly ſcented; and violets and carnations had been in flower ſince Octo⯑ber. Many fruit-trees, here, bear two crops; they [118] produce a fruit at the uſual ſeaſon; then bud again, and bear fruit, a ſecond time, near the middle of Sep⯑tember; though the ſecond fruit is not ſo large and fine flavoured as the firſt. The manna-tree yields, annually, about a pound of manna, worth four hun⯑dred tari and a half; the tari equal to the carline of Naples. Theſe trees never arrive at a great ſize, owing to their annual bleedings; but will yield manna for a hundred years. The ſugar-cane, on the Eaſt⯑ern coaſt of Valdinote, grows to a fine ſize, and is very juicy; thrives almoſt without care; has heat and mixture enough; and neither hurricanes nor inſects to deſtroy them, but, hands are ſcarce, and labour dear; and, of courſe, not much is done in it.
There are two ſmall countries, one to the Eaſt, the other to the Weſt of Palermo, where the prin⯑cipal nobility have their county palaces. I ſhall only ſpeak of one; which, for all its ſingularity, is certainly not to be parallelled on the face of the earth; it be⯑longs to the prince of Patagonia; a man of immenſe fortune; who has devoted his whole life, to the ſtudy of monſters and chimaeras; greater, and more ridi⯑culous than ever entered into the imagination of the wildeſt writers of romance, or knight-errantry.
The amazing croud of ſtatues, that ſurround his houſe, appear at a diſtance, like a little army, drawn [119] up for its defence; but, when you get among them, ſays Brydone, you imagine you have got into the re⯑gions of deluſion and enchantment; for of all that immenſe group, there is not one made to repreſent any object in nature; nor is the abſurdity of the wretched imagination that created them leſs aſtoniſh⯑ing, than its wonderful fertility. He has put the heads of men, to the bodies of every ſort of animal; and the heads of every other animal, to the bodies of men; ſometimes he makes a compound of five or ſix animals, that have no reſemblance in nature. He puts the head of a lion to the neck of a gooſe, the body of a lizard, the legs of a goat, and the tail of a fox; on the back of this monſter he puts another, if poſſible, ſtill more hideous, with five or ſix heads, and a buſh of horns, that beat the beaſt in the revela⯑tions, all to nothing. There is not a horn in the world that he has not collected; and his pleaſure is to ſee them flouriſhing on the ſame head. This is a ſtrange piece of madneſs, and is truly unaccountable, that he has not been ſhut up many years ago; but, he is perfectly innocent, and troubles no one by the in⯑dulgence of his phrenzy. I have converſed with him, continues Brydone, and heard him talk ſpeciouſly enough, on all occaſions; and he gives bread to a number of ſtatuaries and workmen, whom he rewards, in proportion as they can bring their imaginations to coincide with his own.
[120]To this extraordinary place, ſays Swinburne, the traveller is admitted through a large gate; on the plinth of which are fixed, ſix coloſſal white-waſhed ſtatues of huſſars, or halberdiers, to diſpute the en⯑trance of an avenue, three hundred yards long; not of cypreſſes, elms, or orange-trees; but of monſters, to the number of ſix hundred. On each ſide of this avenue is a parapet-wall, loaded with more horrible figures than were ever raiſed by Armida, and all the enchantment of Arioſto. Buſts of punchinellos and harlequins, with ſnakes twiſted round them. Heads of dwarfs, with huge perriwigs; of aſſes and horſes, with laced cravats, and ruffs, compoſe the lower range of this gallery; and, at intervals of an hundred yards, are cluſtered pillars, ſupporting curious groups of figures; ſome are muſicians, others pigmies, opera-heroes, old women grinning; lions, and other beaſts, ſeated at tables, with napkins under their chins, eating oyſters; princeſſes with feathers and fur-belows, oſtriches in hoops, and cats in boots.
The old ornaments, in the court that ſurrounds the palace, that were put up by his father, who was a man of taſte and ſenſe, have been all knocked to pieces, to make room for this new creation. Theſe mon⯑ſters, and animals, line the battlements of the manſion; and ſtand ſo thick, and in ſuch menacing attitudes, as it would not be ſafe to approach in a windy day. [121] They are all carved out of very ſoft ſtone, that crum⯑bles away, and will not laſt long. The walls are caſed with baſſo-relievos, maſks, medallions, ſcriptural ſub⯑jects, heathen gods, emperors, and poſture-maſters; ſome in a good ſtyle, copied from the antique; but, the greateſt part conſiſts of ſuch figures, as we meet with in Dutch fairs, repreſenting the ſeaſons and elements.
The inſide of this enchanted caſtle, ſays Brydone, correſponds exactly with the out; it is, in every re⯑ſpect, as whimſical and fantaſtical; and, you cannot turn yourſelf to any ſide, where you are not ſtared in the face by ſome hideous figure, or other. Some of the apartments are ſpacious and magnificent, with high arched roofs; which, inſtead of plaiſter or ſtucco, are compoſed entirely of large mirrors, nicely joined together. The effect that theſe produce, (as each of them make a ſmall angle with the other) is exactly a multiplying-glaſs; ſo that, when three or four peo⯑ple are walking below, there is always the appearance of three or four hundred walking above. The whole of the doors are, likewiſe, covered over with ſmall pieces of looking-glaſs; cut into the moſt ridiculous ſhapes, and intermixed with a great variety of chryſ⯑tal and glaſs of different colours. All the chimney-pieces, windows, and ſide-boards, are crowded with pyramids and pillars of tea-pots, candle cups, bowls, cups, ſaucers, &c. ſtrongly cemented together. Some [123] of theſe columns are not without their beauty. One of them has a large china chamberpot for its baſe, and a circle of pretty little flower-pots for its capital; the ſhaft of the column, upwards of four feet long, is compoſed entirely of tea-pots, of different ſizes, di⯑miniſhing gradually from the baſe to the capital. The profuſion of choice, that has been employed in form⯑ing theſe columns, is incredible. There are not leſs than forty of them.
Moſt of the rooms are paved with fine marble tiles of different colours, that look like ſo many tomb-ſtones; ſome of theſe very richly wrought, with lapis lazuli, porphyry, and other valuable ſtones. The windows are compoſed of a variety of glaſs, of every colour, mixed without order or regularity. The houſe-clock is caſed in the body a ſtatue; the eyes of the figure moves with the pendulum, turning up their white and black, alternately, and make a hi⯑deous appearance.
His bed-chamber and dreſſing-room are like two apartments of Noah's ark; there is ſcarce a beaſt, however vile, that he has not placed there; birds, pigs, ſerpents, lizards, ſcorpions, all cut in marble, in their reſpective colours. There are a good many buſts too, not leſs ſingularly imagined. Some of theſe make a very handſome profile on one ſide; turn to [123] the other and you have a ſkeleton; here you ſee a nurſe with a child in her arms, its back is exactly that of an infant; its face, that of a wrinkled old woman of ninety.
For ſome minutes we can laugh at theſe follies, ſays Brydone; but indignation and contempt, ſoon get the better of your mirth, and the laugh is turned into a ſneer.
The family-ſtatues are charming; they have been done from ſome old pictures, and make a moſt vene⯑rable appearance; but, this man has dreſſed them out, from head to foot, in new and elegant ſuits of marble; and the effect it produces, is more ridiculous than any thing that can be conceived. Their ſhoes are made of black marble; their ſtockings are chiefly of red; their clothes of different colours, blue, green, and va⯑riegated, with a rich lace of Giall'antique. The wigs of men, and head-dreſſes of the ladies, are of white marble; ſo are their ſhirts, with long flowing ruffles of alabaſter.
Theſe fooleries, ſays De Non, muſt create in us a contempt for the owner; who is, otherwiſe, a very amiable man. Fortunately, the confuſion of the ob⯑jects effaces them from the mind, as ſoon as they are ſeen, and leaves only an indiſtinct idea of this col⯑lection; [124] apparently formed without motive, and as difficult to deſcribe, as diſagreeable to behold.
The prince of P. author of this collection, is a poor, miſerable, lean figure; ſhivering at a breeze, and ſeems to be afraid of every body he ſpeaks to. He is one of the richeſt ſubjects in the iſland; and, it is thought, has not laid out leſs than twenty thouſand pounds, (Swinburne ſays, forty thouſand pounds, in the creation of this world of monſters and chimaeras; how⯑ever, as we have obſerved, it gives bread to a num⯑ber of poor people, to whom he is an excellent maſter. His houſe, at Palermo, is a good deal in the ſame ſtile; his carriages are covered with plates of braſs, and ſome of them muſket-proof.
Government have had ſerious thoughts of demo⯑liſhing the regiment of monſters he has placed round his houſe; but, as he is humane and inoffenſive, and as this would certainly break his heart, they have yet forborne. Seeing of them, it is ſaid, by women with child, has been already attended with very unfortu⯑nate circumſtances. Several living monſters have been brought forth in the neighbourhood. The ladies, ſays Brydone, complain, that they dare not take an airing that way; that ſome hideous form always haunts their imagination for ſome time after; [125] their huſbands too, are as little ſatisfied with the great variety of horns.
In the midſt of this extravagance of the prince, ſays Swinburne, his family has often wanted clothes and victuals. Having run himſelf out, his relations have taken upon them the adminiſtration of his eſtate, and he has left the place. Since he has been debarred the pleaſure of raiſing devils, he has attached himſelf to ſaints, and ſpends his time in following proceſſions, and viſiting churches. On being aſked what part of the globe the originals of the figures upon his walls, are to be met with; he replied, in Egypt; where Diodorus Siculus ſays, the rays of the ſun act ſo power⯑fully, on the fat ſlime left by the Nile, that it engen⯑ders all ſorts of uncouth, and otherwiſe, unknown animals.
CHAP. VI. Of the Feſtival of Roſolia, at Palermo.
[126]ONE of the moſt magnificent, and brilliant ſpec⯑tacles in the world, is the feſtival held annually at Palermo, on the twelfth of July, and the four fol⯑lowing days, in memory and honour of Saint Roſolia, the patroneſs of the city.
Roſolia, or Roſolia, for ſhe is thus differently called, as report goes, was the daughter of a count Sinibaldus; and, in the twelfth century, to ſave her virginity from the brutality of the Saracens, ſhe retired to a cave in Mount Quiſquina, and afterwards came to live in Mount Pellegrino, a mountain quite de⯑tached from others, about a mile from the gates of Palermo. It is a tall rock, without a tree or a ſhrub, except near the top. Here was her grotto, and here ſhe died, and remained unknown till in the year 1624. During the time of a dreadful plague, a holy man had a viſion, that the ſaint's bones were lying in a cave [127] near the top of this mountain; that, if they were taken up with due reverence, and carried in proceſ⯑ſion, thrice round the walls of the city, the plague would ceaſe; he was liſtened to by the vulgar, they roſe and ſupported his cauſe; and, the magiſtrates to appeaſe them, ſent to Monte Pellegrino; when Io! the mighty diſcovery was made; the ſacred bones were found. The city was freed from the plague. Roſalia became the greateſt ſaint in the calendar; churches were reared, altars were dedicated, and monaſteries appointed to this new divinity; whoſe dig⯑nity and conſequence, have ever ſince been ſupported at an incredible expence.
There is a zig-zag road up the ſide of this moun⯑tain, in length, about an hour's walk, made at the ex⯑pence of the ſtate; the ſenate levying a tax upon meat for the purpoſe. A convent and portico cloſe up the entrance of a ſpacious [...]avern. A rich altar covers the marble effigy of the ſaint, repreſented lying at full length. It is covered with a ſilver veſt, the gift of the King of Spain.
People of education are very grave here, and deſpiſe the wild ſuperſtition of the vulgar; yet, they go to maſs regularly, and attend the ordinances with great reſpect and decency, and are pleaſed with us for conforming to their cuſtoms, and for not appearing [128] openly to deſpiſe their rites and ceremonies. This attention of theirs, not to offend weak minds, ſhews a good heart and underſtanding. They boaſt not of their infidelity; neither do they peſter you with it, as in France; and where, although they pretend to be lawleſs; they do, in fact, believe more than any na⯑tion on the continent.
A man can have no good principles, who makes a parade of his contempt for things held ſacred; it is an open inſult to the judgment of the public. An Eng⯑liſhman, ſays Brydone, a few years ago, offended egre⯑giouſly in this reſpect, and the people of Palermo ſtill ſpeak of him with contempt and deteſtation. It happened one day, in the great church, during the ele⯑vation of the hoſt, when every one elſe were on their knees, that this man was ſtanding, without any appear⯑ance of reſpect to the ceremony; a young nobleman near him expreſſed his ſurpriſe at it: "It is ſtrange, Sir, (ſaid he) that you who have had the education of a gentleman, and ought to have the ſentiments of one, ſhould chuſe thus to give ſo very public offence." "Why, 'tis, (ſaid the Engliſhman) I don't believe in tranſubſtantiation."—"Neither do I, Sir, (replied the other) and yet you ſee I kneel."
[129]Mr. Brydone was preſent at the feſtival of St. Roſalio, and gives us the following full and entertaining ac⯑count of it.
The corſo is one of the great ſtreets that croſſes the city; it is a mile long, and extends to the maund, or public walk, which continues its length another mile, along the ſea-ſide. The ſurface of the ſtreet is concave; and, of courſe, we can ſee eaſily from end to end. Some time before the feſtival, great prepara⯑tions are made for illuminating this ſtreet, the marino, and the other great ſtreet that croſſes the corſo. This is done by the erection of pyramids and arches. They are erected on each ſide the ſtreets, betwixt the front path and the pavement, and run in two right lines, exactly parallel from one end to the other; the four gates, at the end of theſe croſs ſtreets, are alſo illuminated; ſo that, from the ſquare in the centre of the city, the whole of this illumination can be ſeen at once. The number of pyramids, and arches, exceed two thouſand. Two great theatres are alſo erected for fire-works; one fronting the viceroy's palace, and almoſt equal to it in ſize; and the other on piles, driven into the ſea, exactly oppoſite to the great orcheſ⯑tra, in the centre of the marino.
The cathedral too is illuminated, both roof and walls; and within, they are entirely covered over, on this occa⯑ſion, [130] with looking-glaſs, intermixed with gold and ſilver paper, and an infinite variety of artificial flowers, all ar⯑ranged with great taſte and judgment. Every altar, cha⯑pel, and column, is decorated in the ſame manner. The roof is hung with innumerable luſtres filled with candles; the ſaints are dreſſed out in all their glory, and the fairy queen, herſelf, was never finer than St. Roſalio.
From end to end of the marino, pyramids and arches were erected, as in the great ſtreet; and ſo en⯑tirely were they covered with lamps, that, at a little diſtance, they ſeemed pyramids and arches of flame. The whole chain of this illumination was about a mile in length, and nothing can be conceived more ſplendid; no break, or imperfection any where, nor a ſingle lamp extinguiſhed: ſo ſtill was the night.
Oppoſite to the centre, of this great line of light, was a magnificent pavilion, erected for the viceroy [132] and his company, which conſiſted of the whole no⯑bility of Palermo; and, at the entrance of this, at ſome little diſtance in the ſea, ſtood the great fire⯑works; repreſenting the front of a palace, adorned with columns, arches, trophies, and every ornament of architecture. All the xebecs, gallies, galliots, and other ſhipping, were ranged round this palace, and formed a kind of amphitheatre in the ſea, encloſing it in the centre. Theſe began the ſhow, by a diſ⯑charge of their artillery; the ſound of which re⯑echoed from the mountains; and, in a ſtill night, pro⯑duced a very noble effect. A variety of water-rock⯑ets, and bombs of a curious conſtruction, were next played off, that often burſt below water. This con⯑tinued for half an hour; when, in an inſtant, the whole of the palace was beautifully illuminated. This was the ſignal for the ſhipping to ceaſe; and ap⯑peared, indeed, like a piece of enchantment, being done inſtantaneouſly, altogether, and without the appear⯑ance of any agent: at the ſame time, the fountains, that were repreſented in the court, before the palace, began to ſpout out fire, reſembling the great Jet d'eaus of Verſailles and Marly. As ſoon as theſe were extinguiſhed, the court of this palace took on the form of a great parterre, embelliſhed with a variety of palm-trees of fire, interſperſed with orange-trees, flower-pots, vaſes, and other ornaments; and the front of it broke out into a variety of ſuns, ſtars, and [133] wheels of fire; which, in a ſhort time, reduced the whole erection to a perfect ruin. All now ſeemed over; when, unexpectedly, there burſt from the cen⯑tre of the pile, a vaſt exploſion of two thouſand rockets, bombs, ſerpents, ſquibs, and devils; which ſeemed to fill the whole atmoſphere. During this exhibition, coffee, ices, ſweetmeats, and a variety of excellent wines, were handed round in the pavilion, in the centre of the marino. This was at the ex⯑pence of the duke of Caſtellano, the praetor, or mayor of the city. The principal nobility give theſe enter⯑tainments by turns, every night during the feſtival, and vie with each other in magnificence.
The firework being finiſhed, the viceroy went out to ſea in a galley, richly illuminated. Brydone con⯑tinued on ſhore, to ſee the effect. It was rowed by ſeventy-two oars; and, he ſays, made one of the moſt beautiful objects imaginable; flying with vaſt velocity over the waters, then as ſmooth and as clear as glaſs; which ſhone round it like a flame, and reflected its ſplendor on all ſides. The oars beat time to the French-horns, clarinets, and trumpets, of which there was a numerous band in the prow.
The day's entertainment was concluded by the corſo; which began exactly at midnight, and laſted two hours. This great ſtreet was illuminated in the [134] ſame manner as the marino. The arches and pyra⯑mids were erected, at little diſtances from each other, on both ſides, betwixt the foot-path and the ſpace for carriages; and, when ſeen from either of the city gates, at the end of the ſtreet, appeared to be two con⯑tinued lines of the brighteſt flame. Indeed, ſays Bry⯑done, theſe illuminations are ſo very different, and ſo much ſuperior, to any I ever ſaw, that I find it dif⯑ficult to give an idea of them. Two lines of coaches occupied the ſpace between theſe two lines of illumi⯑nation. They in their greateſt gala; and, as theſe coaches open in the middle, and let down on each ſide, the beauty of the ladies, the richneſs of their dreſs, and brilliance of their jewels, were diſplayed in the moſt advantageous manner.
The beautiful train moved ſlowly, round and round, for two hours. They ſeemed all joy and exultation; ſcarce two coaches paſt, without ſome mutual acknow⯑ledgment of affection, or reſpect; and the pleaſure, that ſparkled from every eye, ſeemed to be reflected and communicated by ſympathy through the whole.
In ſuch an aſſembly, continues Brydone, it was im⯑poſſible for the heart not to dilate and expand itſelf. I own, mine was ſo full, that I could hardly find ut⯑terance; and, I have ſeen a tragedy with leſs emo⯑tion, than this ſcene of feſtivity. The univerſal joy [135] ſeemed here to ſpring from the heart; it brightened every countenance, and ſpoke affection and friend⯑ſhip from every face.—No ſtately air—no ſuperci⯑lious look—all appeared friends and equals—and, ſure I am, that the beauty of the ladies was not half ſo much heightened, either by their dreſs or their jew⯑els, as by that air of complacency and good-humour, with which it was animated.
The next day, I thought there would be a falling off. The entertainments of the thirteenth began by horſe-races. Of theſe there were three; ſix horſes ſtarted each time, mounted by boys, about twelve years old, without either ſaddle or bridle; only a ſmall piece of cord, by way of bit in the horſe's mouth, which it ſeems is ſufficient to ſtop them. The great ſtreet was the courſe; and for this purpoſe it was covered with earth, five or ſix inches deep. The firing of a gun was the ſignal for ſtarting; the horſes underſtood this, for they all ſat off at once, full ſpeed, from one gate; and continued at their utmoſt ſtretch to the other; exactly a mile, and ran it in a minute and thirty-five ſeconds; the horſes ſcarce fourteen hands high; barbs, or a mixed breed, between a Sicilian and a barb. The boys were gaudily dreſſed, and made a pretty ap⯑pearance. They kept their ſeat by leaning forward, and laying faſt hold of the mane.
[136]The moment before ſtarting, the ſtreet appeared full of people; nor did we conceive how the race could be run; and we were alarmed at ſeeing the horſes run full ſpeed, at the very thickeſt of the crowd, which did not begin to open, till they were almoſt cloſe upon it. The people then opened, and fell back on each ſide, by a regular uniform motion, from one end of the ſtreet to the other. This ſingular manoeuvre ſeemed to be performed without any buſtle or confu⯑ſion; and, the moment the horſes were paſt, the peo⯑ple cloſed again behind them. The victor was con⯑ducted along the ſtreet in triumph, with his prize before him; viz. a piece of white ſilk, embroidered and worked with gold.
The great ſtreet was illuminated in the ſame man⯑ner as before; and the grand aſſembly of the nobles was held at the archbiſhop's palace, which was richly fitted up on the occaſion. The gardens were finely illuminated, like our Vauxhall on an extra day; an orcheſtra was erected at each end, and two very good bands of muſic played. The entertainment was ſplendid.
About ten at night, the great triumphal car was drawn back again, in proceſſion, to the marino; richly illuminated with wax tapers, and made a moſt formi⯑dable figure. Don Qaixole would have been excuſa⯑ble [137] in taking it for an enchanted caſtle, moving through the air. The corſo was illuminated, as the night before, and the ſame parading of carriages took place.
On the fourteenth, at night, the two great ſtreets, and the city gates that terminate them, were illumi⯑nated in the moſt ſplendid manner. The ſquare, in the centre, where the ſtreets croſs each other, was richly ornamented with tapeſtry, ſtatues, and artificial flowers; and, as the buildings which form its four ſides are uniform, and of fine architecture, and at the ſame time highly illuminated, it had a wonderful effect. There were four orcheſtras erected in it; and the fine bands of muſic were greater, than it could be ſuppoſed Palermo could furniſh. From the centre of this ſquare, we have a view of the whole city, thus dreſſed out in its glory; and the effect it produces, ſur⯑paſſes belief.
The nobles aſſembled in the viceroy's palace; and the entertainment, was ſtill more magnificent, than either of the former evenings. The great fire-works, oppoſite the front of the palace, began at ten o'clock, and ended at midnight; after this, the parading in the corſo, as before, till two. The fireworks were more [138] ſuperb than thoſe on the ſea; though it had not ſo good an effect.
On the fifteenth, three races, ſix horſes each, as before. The great aſſembly of the nobility was at the juſtice Monarchias, an officer of high rank and dignity. Here, alſo, was a ſumptuous entertainment, and a concert. At eleven at night, the viceroy, and the whole company, walked to viſit the ſquare and the great church; a prodigious train; for, though the city was all a lamp of light, the ſervants of the viceroy and nobles, preceded with flambeaus. As ſoon as the viceroy entered the ſquare, the five orcheſtras played, and continued playing till he left it.
The crowd round the church was very great, but the attendants ſoon cleared the way; and, entering at the great gate, we beheld the moſt ſplendid ſcene in the world. The whole church appeared a flame of light, which reflected from ten thouſand bright and ſhining ſurfaces, of different colours, and different angles, produced an effect, which no deſcription of enchantment can equal. The whole church, walls, roof, pillars, &c. were entirely covered over with looking-glaſs, as I have obſerved, interſperſed with gold and ſilver paper, and artificial flowers; ſo that not one inch of ſtone, or plaſter, could be ſeen. Form an idea of one of our great cathedrals dreſſed [139] out in this manner, and illuminated with twenty thou⯑ſand wax-tapers, and it will give ſome faint notion of this ſplendid ſcene. I never could have ſuppoſed, ſays Brydone, that human art could have deviſed any thing ſo ſplendid. The ſcene was too glaring to bear any conſiderable time; and the heat, occaſioned by the lights, ſoon became intolerable. In this cathedral there were twenty-eight altars, fourteen on each ſide; theſe were dreſſed out with the utmoſt magnificence; and the great altar was ſtill more ſplendid than all. From the church, the company went to the corſo; which concluded, as uſual, the entertainments of the day.
On the ſixteenth, the ſtreets were fully illuminated. The aſſembly was held at the praeters, with an elegant entertainment and a concert. Pacherotti and Gabrielli ſung; for they were here for the opera. The great proceſſion, that cloſed the feſtival, began at ten o'clock. It differed only from the other proceſſion in this; that, beſides all the prieſts, friars, and religious orders of the city; there were placed, at equal diſtances from each, other, ten lofty machines of wood and paſteboard; re⯑preſenting temples, tabernacles, and a variety of beautiful pieces of architecture. Theſe are furniſhed by the different convents, and religious fraternities, who vie with each other in the richneſs and elegance of the work; ſome of them are not leſs than ſixty feet [140] high. They were filled with figures of ſaints and angels, made of wax; ſo natural, and ſo admirably well painted, that many of them ſeemed alive. All theſe figures are prepared by the nuns, and dreſſed out in rich robes of gold and ſilver tiſſue. A great ſilver box, containing the bones of St. Roſalia, cloſed the proceſſion. It was carried by thirty-ſix of the moſt reſpectable burgeſſes of the city, who look upon this as the greateſt honour. The archbiſhop walked behind it, giving his benediction to the people as they paſſed.
No ſooner had the proceſſion finiſhed the tour of the great ſquare, before the praeter's palace, than the fountain in the centre, one of the largeſt and fineſt in Europe, was converted into a fountain of fire; throw⯑ing it up on all ſides, and making a very beautiful ap⯑pearance. It only laſted a few minutes, and was extin⯑guiſhed by a vaſt exploſion that concluded the whole; and we may ſay, with truth, that the entertainments of the feaſt of St. Roſalio, are much beyond thoſe of the holy week at Rome; of the Aſcenſion at Ve⯑nice; or, indeed, any other Romiſh feſtival.
On theſe occaſions, we cannot but remark, ſays De Non, the gravity of the Sicilians; who enjoy all this, without the ſmalleſt external ſymptom of joy, or pleaſure. They would, perhaps, revolt, if the ſenate [141] was to put a ſtop to this feſtival; yet, they look on it with compoſure, without a ſmile, or any token of ſa⯑tisfaction; obſerving the moſt perfect good order, without requiring the interpoſition of the juſtice. No tumult ever happens; and, though there are upwards of one hundred thouſand perſons collected on the ſame ſpot, there never is any crouding. The inhabitants, of themſelves, divide the ſtreet between them; one ſide for thoſe coming up, and the other for the paſſen⯑gers going down. They are very different from our populace, who want to ſee every thing before it begins, keep looking when it has begun, and ſtill puſh forward to ſtare about them when all is over; who never re⯑main quiet ſo long as a lamp is burning, and can hardly prevail on themſelves to retire, even when the lights are out. Here the labourer, or mechanic, as ſoon as midnight comes, leads off his wife, or miſtreſs, whoſe arm he has never quitted, and reſigns his place, without clamour to the nobility; who enter with the ſame order, and diſplay, with true Italian pomp, their magnificent equipages, and gala liveries.
Another curioſity, near Palermo, is the ſepultures of the dead, of the convent of Capuchins, about a mile from it. This is a vaſt ſubterraneous apartment, di⯑vided into large commodious galleries; the walls, on each ſide of which, are hollowed into a variety of niches, as if intended for a great collection of ſtatues. [142] Theſe niches are filled with dead bodies of men, (for they will not permit women to be placed there) ſet upright upon their legs, and fixed by the back to the inſide of the niche. Their number is about three hundred; all dreſſed in the clothes they uſually wore. The ſkin and muſcles, by a certain preparation, be⯑come as dry and hard, as a piece of ſtock-fiſh; and, although many of them have been there upwards of two hundred and fifty years, yet none are reduced to ſkeletons. The muſcles are, indeed, more ſhrunk in ſome than in others; poſſibly, becauſe they might have been more waſted at the time of their death. The ſight of objects, like theſe, muſt raiſe in the ſpectator ſuch emotions, as are not eaſily ſtifled. It is equally diſagreeable to find, that they mortify our vanity, by deſtroying thoſe fanciful chimaeras of happineſs, and thoſe great projects which the imagination is pleaſed to form. I experienced this, ſays Biſani, among others; but, no ſooner were thoſe ideas paſſed, than I could look on theſe ſpeſtres with calmneſs. Some inſpired me with terror, ſome made me laugh, and ſeemed to laugh in their turn; all, however, afforded this leſ⯑ſon; that ſince we are born only to look round us, and to fall and confound our aſhes with thoſe of our an⯑ceſtors, we ſhould enjoy life; that life, whoſe days are ſo fugitive; and yet in ſuch enjoyment, not forget, that virtue is the firſt of duties, and the parent of pleaſure.
[143]Here, ſays Brydone, the people of Palermo pay daily viſits to their deceaſed friends, and regret the ſcenes of their paſt life; here they familiariſe them⯑ſelves with their future ſtate, and chuſe the company they would keep in the other world. It is a common thing to make choice of their niches, and try if their body fits it, that no alterations may be neceſſary after their death; and, ſometimes by way of penance, they accuſtom themſelves to ſtand for hours in theſe niches.
The bodies of the princes, and firſt nobility, are de⯑poſited in handſome cheſts, or trunks; ſome of them richly adorned. The keys are kept by the neareſt re⯑lations of the family; who, ſometimes, come and drop a tear over their departed friends.
Theſe preſerved bodies are, by no means, great objects of horror; they retain a ſtrong likeneſs to what they were when alive; ſo that, as ſoon as the firſt feeling excited by theſe venerable figures is conquered, it may be conſidered as a vaſt gallery of original por⯑traits, drawn by the pencil of truth.
Deſcription is of all things the moſt inſipid; for words, and writing, convey ideas only by a ſlow and regular kind of progreſs; and, whilſt we gain one, we gene⯑rally loſe another; ſo that the fancy ſeldom embraces the [144] whole: to relieve my readers, I have often, therefore, introduced anecdotes, and ſtories, perhaps not very pertinent to the ſubject; but merely to enliven the work, that might otherwiſe become dull and tireſome. It is on this principle, I ſhall give the following laughable ſtory from Brydone. He dined with a nobleman at Pa⯑lermo; and an abbé preſent gave him this anecdote of a friend of his, who was formerly a brother of the Ca⯑puchin convent, known by the name of Fra Paſqual, and who had paſſed through many ſingular ſcenes of life. He was one of the banditti of this kingdom, in which he had been enrolled ſome time; (of this banditti we ſhall ſpeak hereafter) but, tired of the danger to which he was continually expoſed, he changed the character of hero, for that of ſaint, and became a capuchin friar. He took the vows of poverty and chaſtity, and entered into all the rigours of a monaſtic life; determining to atone for his ſins, by ſpending the remainder of it, in mortification and penance. He went bare-footed, wore a large roſary, and a thicker cord of diſcipline, than any monk in the convent; and, his whole de⯑portment gave teſtimony of the moſt unfeigned repen⯑tance; this laſted only a few weeks. The devil was ſtill at work in the heart of Paſqual; and, all theſe ex⯑ternal mortifications only made him work the harder. In ſhort, Paſqual finding it impoſſible to drive him out; and afraid, left the enemy ſhould, at laſt, get the bet⯑ter of him, he thought it adviſeable to leave, at Pa⯑lermo, [145] the character of ſanctity he had acquired, and began a new life at a new place. He embarked for Naples, and was ſoon there admitted into a capuchin convent.
Paſqual knowing from experience, that the dull uni⯑formity of a monaſtic life required ſome renovation, and amuſement to render it ſupportable, ſet about it; the firſt thing he did, was to find himſelf a miſtreſs, in a ſnug corner, where he might ſleep at night, occa⯑ſionally, from his convent, and indulge in that enjoy⯑ment which his auſtere order forbids. He ſoon fixed his eye on a celebrated courtezan; who, like our Lon⯑don ladies of eaſy virtue, though they admit for pay no viſits from ſtrangers, but thoſe that are wealthy; will take up with lovers, at times, more ſuited to their own caſt and inclinations. This lady admitted to her bed, at certain times, when ſhe was otherwiſe engaged, a life-guard-man, ſix feet two inches high; a fellow with a ſpada, or toledo, of uncommon length; and wore a pair of curled whiſkers, that would frighten any man, whoſe nerves were not uncommonly ſtrong. This man was kept by her as her champion, and paid by thoſe favours ſhe had occaſionally to ſpare; but, having an art of winning her affections, more than by fighting her battles, he had got the aſcendancy over her; and never ſuffered her to receive any viſits, but from thoſe he was made acquainted with; which were [146] generally old fools, who had more money than wit; and, would often ſacrifice the former at the ſhrine of their idolatry. This lady, however, had a penchant of her own; and, having no idea of being confined to one youthful admirer, was determined to receive any other ſhe pleaſed. At this time the capuchin, one night, fell in her way. When ſhe knew her life-guard-man would be on duty, ſhe invited him to her bed; and, to make her favours more valuable, told him, ſhe had a lover, who was exceedingly jealous of her; that, if he knew of her intriguing, or admitting the viſits of any other perſon, he would be the death of them both; for that he was a ſoldier, and a man in diſpoſition as furious as a lion; but, that as he was then on duty, there would be no danger, and ſhe ſhould be glad to ſee him.
The capuchin, who had been originally bred to arms, having no fear, and liking difficulties, was more eager than ever to accept this lady's invitation. He, accordingly, ſtept out of his convent, and hied to the apartments of his miſtreſs. But it ſo happened, that about one in the morning, when he was aſleep, with his fair enchantreſs, the life-guard-man, unexpectedly re⯑turned. The noiſe he made at the door, ſoon awaked and alarmed them; the lady was frightened out of her wits, told the capuchin it was her lover, and that ſhe expected nothing leſs than that both would be put to [147] death. The capuchin, being unarmed, was alſo not a little frightened. Not finding a ready admittance, the ſoldier ſtormed and made a louder noiſe; and the capuchin, having no time to reflect, gathered up his rags and crept under the bed; which, being rather corpulent, he found a difficulty in doing. He was no ſooner there than ſhe opened the door, which was a ground-floor-room, and the giant ſtalked in, angry that he was kept at the door ſo long. However, as he returned in an amorous mood, her winning ways ſoon put him into good humour. There was no light in the room; and, of courſe, the monk did not fear a diſcovery. Strike a light ſaid the ſoldier, that I may ſee to un⯑dreſs. The monk trembled, and the bed ſhook. What makes the bed ſhake ſo, ſays he, 'tis I, returned the lady, that ran againſt it in ſearching for the tin⯑der-box. It was found, and the monk quaked within him: but, ſhe having deſignedly, from the chamber⯑pot, thrown ſome water into it; the tinder would not take fire. Till the capuchin knew this, every ſtroke of the flint was to him a double knell; but, when both had tried, and his rival ſwore at the tinder's not kindling, ſaying, it was wet; his ſpirits recovered. She adviſed him to go to the guard-houſe for a light, being only at the end of the ſtreet: here the monk had freſh hopes, which ſunk again, on hearing the ſoldier ſay that he left his duty without leave, and dared not go, and would rather undreſs in the dark. He then began to [148] grope about under the bed, for a bottle of liquors that he knew was there, and had very nearly laid hold of the capuchin's head; but, madam finding what he was at, ſprung to the bed and reached it for him. He was now undreſſed, and they got into bed. The weight of this giant gave the poor monk leſs room, for he lay juſt over him; he was ſqueezed quite flat, and was nearly ſuffocated. He had now a little time to think; and, it firſt ſtruck him, that he would ruſh out into the ſtreet; but then he was ſtark naked, for the capuchins wear no ſhirts; this would alarm the police; next he thought of ſeizing the to⯑ledo, and then, threatening the life-guard-man, de⯑mand honourable terms of capitulation, for both him⯑ſelf and the lady. A thouſand ideas rolled in his mind. He could neither attend to any thing that was paſſing, nor be ſenſible of the preſſure that was over him. At laſt, the man of war fell aſleep, and the capuchin heard him ſnore; this was muſic to his heart; till he heard this, he was determined to keep his place till the morn⯑ing; but now, he ventured, if poſſible, to eſcape. He, accordingly, worked his way out from under the bed; and, laying hold of the ſword, relinquiſhed the cowardly idea of eſcaping, and felt himſelf bold; his thoughts now were to be revenged of his rival, and make him ſuffer in his turn. He accordingly dreſſed himſelf in the ſoldier's uniform, and placed his greaſy cloaths, cowl, &c. in a chair before the bed, where [149] the ſoldier had placed his, and ſallied forth into the ſtreet. Here he had time to think. Shall I go back, ſays he to himſelf, in the character of another life-guard man, and pretend I am ſent by the officer on guard, in ſearch of him, and take him to the guard-houſe as a deſerter? No, this would be treacherous, and not a ſufficient retaliation. I will go and acquaint the guard, who hate the capuchin friars, for the ill opinion they entertain of the licentiouſneſs of the army, that I have traced one of that order to a houſe of ill fame, and induce them to accompany me and unkennel the fox. This he did; he told the officer then on duty, that, as the capuchins were very apt to cenſure the army, he had now an opportunity of being revenged; that he had noticed a Franciſcan friar in his habit, ſkulking in the ſtreets; had watched him, and traced him to the houſe of a common woman; that he had liſtened at the window, and heard them go to bed; and, that if the officer would accompany him, he would enjoy not only great diverſion, but would, when he heard the capuchins inveigh againſt the army, be able, in future, to turn the laugh againſt them. The officer, pleaſed with the idea, took the guard with him, and followed the capuchin to the houſe. they rapped loud at the door, and demanded admit⯑tance for the night-guard. The noiſe waked the ſleepy couple; and, the ſoldier fearing it was the guard come to apprehend him for quitting his duty, was, in [150] his turn, much more afraid than the monk, when his rival announced his return. In his panic, he got out of bed, took up in the dark the capuchin's clothes that laid in the chair, ſuppoſing them to be his own, and hid himſelf where the prieſt had done before. The capuchin not readily gaining admittance, put his foot to the door, and forced it open. The guard entered, and demanded of the lady the body of a capuchin friar, that lodged with her that night. She hearing the monk, when he quitted her chamber, and not ſup⯑poſing he would inform againſt himſelf, proteſted ſhe had no capuchin with her, and called upon all the ſaints in ſupport of her aſſertion. But, the monk ſuſ⯑pecting the retreat of his rival, ſtooped, and pulled from under the bed the cowl, the cloak, the ſandals, the roſary, and the cord of diſcipline, one after the other, crying out, No capuchin! No capuchin! Theſe are damning proofs, proofs not to be controverted; and, then ſtooping to the ground, cryed out, ſoho!— I noſe him; he ſtinks like a fox. The only way to find a capuchin, is to noſe him.—We may wind them a mile off. The lanthorn was now held down, and the man of ardour was found ſqueezed beneath the bed, almoſt ſtifled. Ecco lo, cries the capuchin, here he is—here he is.—The reverend father is come, you ſee, to do penance: let us aſſiſt him in his diſcipline. With this they drew him out, and belaboured him well with the cord, crying out Andiamo Signior Padre, [151] Andiamo. The poor ſoldier, being without his clothes, felt the weight of St. Francis, heavier than what he liked, and bawled out that he was no capuchin, and that they were all miſtaken. This occaſioned a repe⯑tion of the ſcourging. The monk laid it on now the heavier, ſaying, he deſerved this for denying his maſter, and his order. The guards lay all round the bed, in convulſions of laughter, at the ſcene.
The lady was frightened, and alarmed; ſhe ran about the room exclaiming, Oime! ſiamo perduti— ſiamo incantati—ſiamo inſorcelati! that is, "Ah me! I am ruined—I am under an enchantment—I am be⯑witched!
The monk, delighted at the ſucceſs of his ſcheme, thought it was beſt that he ſhould get off, before he was diſcovered; therefore, made an excuſe to the officer for leaving him, ſaying, his hour of duty was come, and he was obliged to join his corps; but, recommended to to him, with a ſneer, to treat the holy father with all all that reſpect and reverence due to ſo ſacred a perſon.
The life-guard-man, no ſooner got from under the bed, than he looked for his clothes, and not ſeeing any but the greaſy robes of a capuchin friar, was per⯑ſuaded that God had given him over to the devil, as a [152] puniſhment for his offences; for of all men, the Nea⯑politan ſoldiers are moſt ſuperſtitious; and he recol⯑lected it was Friday, a faſt-day; and that, in paſſing the ſtatue of St. Januarius, he had not offered up a prayer to it. This is the conſequence, ſays he, moan⯑ing, of offending heaven. I acknowledge my ſin; I knew it was Friday, and yet, O fleſh, fleſh:—had it been any other day, I ſhould not have been thus me⯑tamorphoſed; now, muſt I no longer carry a ſword, but a crucifix. Oh St. Januarius, thy all-ſearching eye has found me out!—Do, gentlemen, what you pleaſe with me. I am not what I ſeem to be. "True enough (ſaid the officer) we are ſenſible of that. Come, Signior Padre, put on your filthy garments, and march; for we have no time to loſe." Here cor⯑poral (giving him the cord) tie his hands, and let St. Francis bind him. The poor ſon of Mars was per⯑fectly paſſive; they arrayed him in the ſandals, the cloak and cowl of the capuchin, and put the great ro⯑ſary round his neck; he hung his head, and a woeful figure he made.—Look in the glaſs, ſaid the officer, turning him about, and ſee if you know yourſelf? Are you a capuchin now? He was ſhocked at his own ap⯑pearance, but bore all with reſignation. Thus equip⯑ped, they conducted him to the guard-houſe, ſcourg⯑ing him all the way with the cord, and aſking him, at every ſtroke, if he knew his maſter now?
[153]The capuchin, during this time, had ſneaked, un⯑perceived, into his convent; and, having a ſecond dreſs, put it on; taking the clothes of the life-guard-man, and laying them in a heap, before it was light, near the gate of another capuchin convent, at ſome diſtance from his own; not forgetting to pocket the trifle of money he found in the ſoldier's breeches, to atone for the loſs of his garments. Capuchins are forbidden, by their order, to carry money; and this man ſays, he ſhould not have thought of doing it, but to prevent any other from making an unlawful prize of it.
The poor ſoldier's comrades ſoon heard of his transformation, and came in troops to ſee him, and jeer him, in his metamorphoſis; but, as he thought himſelf under the finger of Heaven, and does to this day, he bore all with meekneſs. They kept him a priſoner for a day or two; but, his clothes being found, he was ſet at liberty. It has been of ſome uſe to him, for he never paſſes St. Januarius, without muttering a prayer; nor ever viſits his miſtreſs on a Friday.
About five miles from Palermo is the city of Mon⯑reale, a ſmall place on the brow of a very high hill, but the ſee of an archbiſhop; remarkable for its grand approach, or paved road, made by the Dioceſan, winding up the mountain, ſupported by ſtrong but⯑treſſes [154] and breaſt-works, and adorned with borders of flowering-ſhrubs, urns, fountains, and inſcriptions. About the midway, cloſe to the road, riſes a huge barren rock; out of the bowels of which, a fine ſtream guſhes with great force. An artiſt has been employed to improve this natural fountain, which he has done, by adding to the original cliff, large maſſes of rugged ſtone, which pen up the water into one full, but irre⯑gular body; it then daſhes headlong into a capacious baſon, overgrown with the broad leaves of the lotus, flag, and water-lily. On the ſummit of this artificial rock is the ſtatue of a boy, armed with a hatchet, watching a ſerpent, that ſeems creeping towards the water; another boy, as if rouſed by alarm, is repre⯑ſented climbing up, with a ſtone in his hand; whilſt a little girl, with diſmay ſtrongly marked in every fea⯑ture, is hiding herſelf behind the ſtump of a tree.
A gate terminates this fine approach to Monreale; the other end of the road joins an avenue of aged trees, (ſome of which are plantanes) leading through the plain to the gates of Palermo; which plain, for many miles, is a continued orange-garden, and fine ſcenery; the air perfumed. Monreale is hemmed in on every ſide but the northern, by lofty mountains; but, on the North, a view opens over hanging woods of olive, [155] and of orange-trees, to Palermo, and the ſea; a noble and moſt extenſive ſcene.
The city is clean and neatly built, and contains above eight thouſand inhabitants; but the cathe⯑dral, the ſecond in the iſland, exhibits a very diſ⯑agreeable ſpecimen of Gothic taſte; and, to mend it, they have white-waſhed the outſide. Let me notice, in the way back to Palermo, the Torre Zizza, and I have done. This is a country houſe, of very ancient foundation, and remarkable architecture; it was built by the Saracens, during their abode in Sicily, in the ninth or tenth century, and is almoſt co⯑eval with the moſque at Cordova, in Spain; but differs widely from it, in the character of its architecture. The windows of la Zizza are long, and almoſt round at top; inſtead of being pointed, or arched like a horſe⯑ſhoe. It is a ſquare ſtone tower, three ſtories high, of regular courſes of maſonry, not at all decayed by age, with a battlement on the top; on each ſtone of which is a letter of ſome alphabet, uſed by the Sara⯑cens; which Mr. Swinburne ſuppoſes to be the Cufick, now only to be found in the oldeſt Mahomedan ma⯑nuſcripts. The inſide is decorated with thin arches, and froſted cielings, hanging down in drops; a foun⯑tain plays in the hall, and fragrant gardens, with rich decorations, adjoin it. The tale of this town, handed down by tradition, is, that a ſultan erected it, for the [156] purpoſe of conſining his beautiful daughter Zizza; but, as this word is ſaid to imply gay, flowery, decked⯑out, this tower might have been called ſo from its or⯑naments. Even now, when the Sicilians ſpeak of a well-dreſt lady, they ſay ſhe is a zizzata.
CHAP. VII. Of Catania.
CATANIA is a city ſtanding on the Weſtern coaſt of Sicily; it lies at the foot of Mount Aetna, and has been ſeveral times deſtroyed by it. It evidently appears, ſays Brydone, that the irruptions of the mountain have formed the whole coaſt; and, in many places, have driven back the ſea, for ſeveral miles, from its ancient boundaries. The account given by Sicilian authors, of the conflict between theſe two adverſe elements, fire and water, is truly tremendous; and, in relating it, they ſeem to have been ſhaken with horror. Conceive the front of a torrent of fire, [157] ten miles in breadth, and heaped up to an enormous height, rolling down the mountain, and pouring its flames into the ocean! The noiſe more dreadful than the loudeſt thunder; and heard, through the whole country, to an immenſe diſtance. The water ſeeming to retire and hide its head before its antagoniſt, and to confeſs its ſuperiority; yielding up its poſſeſſions, and contracting its banks: ſalt vapours darkening the face of the ſun, covering up this ſcene under a veil of horror, and of night; and laying waſte every field and vineyard in theſe regions of the iſland. This city was in great want of a port; till, by an ir⯑ruption in the ſixteenth century, a ſtream of lava run⯑ning into the ſea, formed a mole, which no expence could have furniſhed. This laſted for ſome time, a ſafe and commodious harbour; till, at laſt, by a ſubſe⯑quent irruption, it was entirely filled up, and de⯑moliſhed. At this time, the torrent burſt over the walls; and, laying waſte great part of this beautiful city, poured into the ſea. But, the ſuperſtition of the peo⯑ple is ſo great, and ſo great is their reliance on St. Agatha, their ſaint, that they cannot be made to believe, but that when ſuch irruptions injure them, it is, be⯑cauſe they have offended Agatha, whoſe influence and power can prevent ſuch accidents if ſhe pleaſes; nor would they be perſuaded to remove their ſituation, if the lava were at their walls; from an opinion, that Agatha can keep it fromentering the city. Neither is it [158] the veil of the ſaint alone, that, in their opinion, can do this, which they have long preſerved as a relick; but they conceive, ſays Brydone, every thing, that has touched that piece of ſacred attire, poſſeſſing the ſame miraculous property. Thus, there is a number of little bits of cotton, and linen fixed to the veil, which, after being bleſſed by the biſhop, are ſuppoſed to acquire power enough to ſave any perſon's houſe, or garden; and, wherever this expedient has failed, it is always at⯑tributed to want of faith of the perſon, not want of faith in the veil.
Catania was founded by the Chalcidians; ſoon after the ſettlement of Syracuſe, it fell into the hands of the Romans, among their earlieſt acquiſitions in Sicily, and became the reſidence of the praeter; it was adorn⯑ed with ſumptuous buildings, and every convenience was procured to ſupply the natural and artificial wants of life. It was deſtroyed by Pompey's ſon, but reſtored with ſuperior magnificence, by Auguſtus. In the reign of Decius, St. Agatha, its patroneſs, was mar⯑tyred; on every emergency her interceſſion is im⯑plored; ſhe is piouſly believed to have preſerved Ca⯑tania, from being overwhelmed by torrents of lava, or ſhaken to pieces by earthquakes; yet, its ancient edifices are covered, by repeated ſtreams of volcanic matter, and almoſt every houſe; even her own church has been thrown to the ground; once, by an irruption [159] of Aetna, twenty thouſand Catanians, with their paſtor at their head, were deſtroyed, before the ſacred veil could be properly placed to check the flames. And in the laſt century, the irruptions, and earthquakes, raged with redoubled violence, and Catania was quite demoliſhed.
The prince of Biſcari has been at infinite pains, and ſpent a large ſum of money, in working down to the ancient town. We deſcended into baths, ſays Swinburne, into ſepulchres, an amphitheatre, and a theatre, all very much injured. They were erected on old beds of lava, and even built with ſquare pieces of the ſame ſubſtance; which does not appear to have been fuſed by the contact of new lava.
This city has been frequently defended, from the burning ſtreams, by the ſolid maſs of its own ram⯑parts; and by the air compreſſed between them and the lava. This appears, by the torrent having ſtop⯑ped, within a ſmall diſtance of the walls, and taken ano⯑ther direction; but when the walls were broken, or low, the lava collected itſelf, till it roſe to a great height, and then poured over in a curve. There is a wall at the foot of the old walls, where the lava, after running along the parapet, and then falling forwards, has produced a very complete lofty arch over the ſpring.
[160]Since its deſtruction, by an irruption, in 1669, and its overthrow, by an earthquake, in 1693, Catania is reviving with great ſplendor; and, when all the houſes now building are finiſhed, will be a very hand⯑ſome city. It has much more the features of a metro⯑polis, and royal reſidence, than Palermo; the princi⯑pal ſtreets are wide, ſtraight, and well paved with lava. An obeliſk of red granite, placed on the back of an antique elephant of touchſtone, or lava; a fine monu⯑ment of antiquity ſtands in the centre of the great ſquare; which is formed by the town-hall ſeminary and cathedral. One would naturally ſuppoſe, that men would be backward in erecting new habitations, eſpecially with any degree of grandeur, on a ground ſo often ſhaken to its centre, and ſo often buried under the aſhes of a volcano; but ſuch is the attachment of an Italian to his native ſoil, and ſuch his contempt to dangers to which they are habituated; that, like the martin, which builds its neſts under the eves of houſes; pull it down as often as you pleaſe, it will im⯑mediately proceed to re-building it; ſo will the Ita⯑lians rebuild their houſes, on the warm cinders of Ve⯑ſuvius, the quaking plains of Calabria, and the black mountains of Sciarra, at Catania. There is a great deal of activity in the diſpoſition of this people; they know by tradition, that their anceſtors carried on a flouriſhing commerce; and that, before the fiery river filled it up, they had a ſpacious, convenient harbour, [161] where they now have ſcarcely a creek for a felucca; they, therefore, wiſh to reſtore theſe advantages to Ca⯑tania; and have often applied to government for aſ⯑ſiſtance, towards forming a mole and a port.
The number of inhabitants, in Catania, amounts to about thirty thouſand men; the Catanians ſay ſixty thouſand. Great part of this number belongs to the univerſity, the only one in the iſland, and the nurſery of all the lawyers.
The prince of Biſcari has incloſed a large tract of the lava, of 1669, near the ſea-ſide, ſurrounded the old fortreſs, where the kings of Arragon uſed to re⯑ſide; and, in this black impenetrable ſurface, has made a garden, built houſes, carried on a good coach road round it; planted trees, in earth brought from other places; and, what ſeems almoſt incomprehen⯑ſible, has formed two large ponds of freſh water, ſup⯑plied by ſprings, that ooze through the lava; ſtocked them them with fiſh, and water-ſowl, and preſerved them from the fury of the ſea, by a ſtrong pier, the only barrier between the ſalt and freſh water. The ſpot, where his villa ſtands on the lava, was formerly fifty feet deep in water; and the height of the lava, above the preſent level of the ſea, is not leſs than fifty feet more.
[162]This prince has a muſeum of the antiquities, he has dug out of the ruins of Catania. His collection is very rich and extenſive, eſpecially in Etruſcan vaſes, lamps, and antiquities, of terra cotta. One of the moſt remarkable lamps is moulded into the form of a camel, with an amphora on each ſide, fixed in a cradle. The water-carriers, at Palermo, uſe a ſimilar contri⯑vance to this day, for conveying water upon aſſes. Among his buſts and ſtatues, ſome are conſpicuous for the perfection of their ſculpture; others for the per⯑ſons they repreſent. It would require a volume to de⯑ſcribe them; let it ſuffice to ſay, that his collection conſiſts of whatever Catania and Sicily produce, that is curious in antiquity.
Among other curioſities, is the organ at the Bene⯑dictine convent, built by a Neapolitan prieſt. The tunes of all ſorts of wind and ſtrung inſtruments are imitated with the moſt perfect illuſion. One of the pipes gives an echo in ſo aerial a manner, that you follow the ſound to its diſtant reverberations, till it loſes itſelf in ſpace.
Catania, ſays Brydone, is looked upon as one of the moſt ancient cities in the world. Their legends aver, that it was founded by the Cyclops, or giants of Aetna, ſuppoſed to be the firſt inhabitants of Sicily, after the deluge; and, ſome Sicilian writers pretend, it was [163] built by Deucalion and Pyrrha, as ſoon as the waters ſubſided, and had got down again to the foot of the mountain. Its ancient name was Cataetna, or the city of Aetna. It is now reckoned the third city in the kingdom; though, ſince Meſſina has been deſtroyed, it may well be conſidered as the ſecond. It has a biſhop; and the biſhop's revenues, which are conſide⯑rable, ariſe principally from the ſale of the ſnow on Mount Aetna; one ſmall portion of which, lying in the north of the mountain, is ſaid to bring him in up⯑wards of a thouſand pounds a year; for Aetna fur⯑niſhes ſnow and ice, not only to the whole iſland of Sicily, but likewiſe to Malta, and a great part of Italy, and makes a very conſiderable branch of commerce; for, even the peaſants in theſe hot countries, regalo themſelves with ices, during the ſummer heats; and, there is no entertainment, given by the nobility, of which theſe do not always make a principal part. A famine of ſnow, they ſay, would be more grievous, than a famine of either corn or wine. It is a com⯑mon obſervation among them, that without the ſnows of Aetna, their iſland could not be inhabited; but, Aetna not only cools them in ſummer, but warms them in winter; the fuel for the greater part of the iſland, being carried from the immenſe and inexhauſ⯑tible foreſts of this volcano.
[164]Near to the walls of the ancient city, many of which are ſtanding, near ſixty feet high, and of great ſtrength, and yet the lava of 1669 overflowed them; near to theſe walls, and the Benedictine convent, they have diſcovered the fragments of a famous tem⯑ple of Ceres, a nymphaeum, the gymnaſium, and a naumachia, that was near the caſtle; the veſtiges of which were to be ſeen, before the lava of 1669 had covered them; and two arches of the aqueducts, lead⯑ing to which, are ſtill viſible in the lava.
So many public edifices, crouded together in ſo ſmall a ſpace, muſt have left but little room for the houſes of individuals, which may lead us to conclude, that this city has been embelliſhed, at different periods; or, that the private houſes were extremely ſmall, in compariſon to the public buildings; or, that ancient Catania was ſtill more ornamented than extenſive; and, conſequently, more rich than popular. The modern town is of the ſame nature; for, though the Catanians eſtimate their number at ſixty thouſand, we ſee nothing in the ſtreets but convents, churches, and palaces, ſeparated by a few private houſes.
It is difficult to aſſign the epocha of this ſplendor of Catania. The great quantity of Latin inſcriptions, diſcovered in the different edifices, the baths, the naumachia, &c. known only to the Romans, lead us [165] to determine its ſplendor to have been in their time, which continued to the incurſions of the Barbarians; who broke the ſtatues, pillaged the bronzes, and melted down the metals to carry them off. Next came the Normans; who, barbarouſly catholic, piouſly deſpoiled the beautiful temples of their marbles, to conſtruct their miſerable churches.
Catania, now a handſome city, but without an inn, is, moſt likely, to be again deſtroyed by commotion of the mountain. Catania is now purged and purified from all the infection contracted from heathen rites; and the rotundo, like the pantheon at Rome, which ſeems to have out-lived other buildings, owing to its ſingular form, is become a Chriſtian church. It is not a little curious to conſider, ſays Brydone, how ſmall the deviation is, in the preſent rites, from thoſe of the ancients, in almoſt every article. It is a juſt obſervation; that, during the long reign of heathen⯑iſm, ſuperſtition had exhauſted her talent for inven⯑tion; ſo that, when a ſuperſtitious ſpirit ſeized Chriſ⯑tians, they were under a neceſſity of borrowing from their predeceſſors, and imitating ſome part of their ido⯑latry. In ſome places, the very images ſtill remain. They have only chriſtened them; and, the ſtatue that bore the name of Venus, or Proſerpine, is now called Mary Magdalene, or the Virgin. The ſame ceremonies are daily performed before theſe images, in the ſame [166] language, and nearly in the ſame manner. The ſaints are perpetually coming down in perſon, and working miracles, as did the heathen gods of old. The walls of the temples are covered with the vows of pilgrims, as they were formerly. The holy-water, which was held in ſuch deteſtation by the firſt Chriſtians, is again revered and ſprinkled about with the ſame devotion, as in the time of Paganiſm. The ſame inceſt is burnt by prieſts, arrayed in the ſame manner, with the ſame grimaces, genuflexions, before the ſame images, and in the ſame temples too. In ſhort, ſo nearly do the rites coincide, that, were the pagan high-prieſt to re⯑turn and re-aſſume his functions, he would only have to learn a few new names; to get the maſs, the paters, and the eves by heart. Brydone ſays, he took notice of this to a Roman Catholic nobleman, who is not the moſt zealous ſectary in the world, and he frankly owned the truth of the obſervation.
Not far from Catania, between that and Meſſina, is the city of Iaci; near which Homer has placed the landing of Ulyſſes, and which ſtill bears the name of Porto d'Ulyſſe. Homer muſt have made a very bad choice, for a place to land his hero, or elſe the lava has greatly changed its form. The ſhoals, or rocks, between this and Catania, which are a hundred feet above the level of the ſea; and, probably, as many below it, are entire maſſes of lava. It is impoſſible to [167] conceive, how theſe maſſes have become inſulated, with gulphs between them, of ſuch profundity, as to make the water black as ink; unleſs ſome dreadful convulſions of the North have removed the ſandy bot⯑tom, on which theſe maſſes had run, when liquid; and have thus ſeparated them from the ſhore, and formed them into rocks.
CHAP. VIII. Of Syracuſe, and the chief Antiquities of the Iſland.
THE great and mighty Syracuſe, whoſe ſpacious harbour once received innumerable fleets; whoſe battles were fought by the Athenians, within its circumference; and, where the triumphant Carthagi⯑nians found their tombs, is now a deſolate, and a filthy wretched place; but, the iſle of Ortyra, which is the modern town, and was anciently the fortreſs and caſtle of Dionyſius, has been fortified by the King of Spain, though without artillery. Thoſe who come here, by [168] ſea, are obliged to perform quarantine, at the in⯑ſtance of thoſe who farm out the lazarettos of Sicily, and oblige all veſſels to quarantine, though there is not a ſhed, nor even ground enough for the prows, of the little craft that come here, to reſt upon. This difficulty they oblige mariners to put up with, for twenty-eight days, in order to fill the pockets of thoſe who guard the veſſel, by little indulgencies they ſhew them.
The fountain of Arethuſa is one of the chief cu⯑rioſities, and pieces of antiquity here. It is an angular baſon, of ſulphureous water, cloſe to the ſea, formed by two wells, but not antique wells, and where now the dirtieſt linen is waſhed, by a number of ſtill dirtier women; who, almoſt naked, and with their petticoats tucked up, preſent the moſt diſguſting ſcene immodeſty can diſplay. Notwithſtanding the wretched condition of this fountain, it appears miraculous, that, from the centre of a rock, almoſt ſurrounded by the ſea, a ſpring ſhould break out in ſtreams; which, when united, muſt rather have reſembled the mouth of a river, than a fountain. Near this fountain, was the palace of Verres, and that delicious walk which Cicero accuſes the proconſul of converting into a ſcene of debauchery. It is ſtill the public walk, but has now no delights; being nothing but a narrow ſauntering place, between a great wall; and the parapet of the [169] harbour planted with a few ſorry birches. At the bottom of the wall are two fragments, of a Norman building, which might have been part of the palace of Verres.
Of the temples of Diana and Minerva, the palace of Dyoniſius, his garden, his tomb, and thoſe famous baths, of the celebrated Daphnis, the ſon of Mercury, and a nymph, the inventor of paſtoral poetry, who charmed Diana by his ſongs and verſes, and was puniſh⯑ed with blindneſs for his infidelity, nothing remains but the temple of Minerva, converted into a cathedral; and part of the temple of Diana, now in the chamber of a private individual, being two pieces of columns, fixed up to ſupport a roof, and enlarge bis apart⯑ment.
In Acradina, originally part of Syracuſe, ſtands the church of St. John, in ſome low grounds, covering the entrance of immenſe catacombs, where the an⯑cient Sicilians buried their dead; the primitive ſaith⯑ful are ſuppoſed to have aſſembled here, in times of perſecution; and to have interred their brethren in theſe vaults. Theſe vaults are formed in ſtreets, cut through one continued ſtratum of ſoft ſtone, a ſedi⯑ment of marine bodies; croſſing each other in many directions, and are hewn with more care and regula⯑rity, than the catacombs of St. Januarius, at Naples. [170] At ſtated diſtances, there are large circular rooms, lined with ſtucco, and pierced at the top, ſo as to ad⯑mit light and air. On each ſide of the walls, are re⯑ceſſes cut into the rock; and, in the floor of theſe ca⯑vities, coffins of all ſizes have been hollowed out. In ſome places, there have been twenty troughs, one be⯑hind another; and ſkeletons have been found in them, with a piece of money in their mouths.
Near the port, they ſhew the ſpot where ſtood Ar⯑chimedes's houſe; and alſo the tower, from whence he is ſaid to have ſet fire to the Roman galleys, with his burning glaſſes. Mr. Brydone thinks, if there is any degree of truth in this ſtory, it muſt have been with a number of looking-glaſſes, not convex glaſſes, or con⯑cave ſpeculums; as it would have been difficult, with ſuch glaſſes, to have cauſed a focus of ſuch a great length; but, Mr. Buffon has made the experiment with looking-glaſſes. He fixed four hundred ſmall mir⯑rors in a kind of frame, and diſpoſed them in ſuch a manner, that the rays, reflected from each of them, fell exactly on the ſame point; by which means he melted lead, at the diſtance of a hundred and twenty feet, and ſet fire to a hay-ſtack, at a much greater diſtance.
The chief remains of antiquity, beſides thoſe I have mentioned, are a theatre, and amphitheatre; many ſepulchres, the latomic, and the ear of Dionyſius. The latomie now makes a noble ſubterraneous garden; and is, indeed, a romantic and beautiful ſpot. Moſt of it is about a hundred feet below the level of the earth, and of an incredible extent. The whole is hewn out of a rock, compoſed of a concretion of ſhells, gravel, and other marine bodies. The bottom of this immenſe quarry, from whence, probably, the greateſt part of Syracuſe was built, is now covered with an exceeding rich ſoil; and, as no wind from any part of the compaſs can touch it, it is filled with a great variety of the fineſt ſhrubs and fruit-trees, which bear, with vaſt luxuriance, and are never blaſted. The oranges, citrons, bergamots, pomegranates, figs, &c. are all of a remarkable ſize, and fine quality. Some of theſe trees, but more particularly the olives, [172] grow out of the hard rock, where there is no viſible ſoil, and exhibit a very uncommon and pleaſing ap⯑pearance. This is the ſame ſpot, ſo celebrated by Cicero, about eighteen hundred years ago. Opus eſt ingens, ſays he, magnificum regum ac tyrannorum. Totum ex ſaxo in mirandam altitudinem depreſſo, &c.
The ear of Dionyſius is no leſs a monument, of in⯑genuity and magnificence, than of the cruelty of that tyrant. It is a huge cavern, cut out of the hard rock, in form of a human ear; the perpendicular height, about eighty feet; and its length, no leſs than two hundred and fifty. This cavern was ſaid to be ſo con⯑trived, that every ſound made in it was collected, and united into one focus, which was called the tympanum; and, exactly oppoſite to it, the tyrant had made a ſmall hole, which communicated with a little apart⯑ment, where he uſed to conceal himſelf. He applied his own ear at this hole, and is ſaid to have heard diſ⯑tinctly, every word that was ſpoken in the cavern below. This apartment was no ſooner finiſhed, than he put to death all the workmen that had been em⯑ployed in it. He then confined all that he ſuſpected were his enemies; and, by over-hearing their conver⯑ſation, judged of their guilt; and condemned, or ac⯑quitted them, accordingly.
[173]The amphitheatre is in the form of a very eccen⯑tric ellipſe, and much fallen to decay; but the theatre is ſo entire, that moſt of the ſeats ſtill remain. There are near twenty remains of temples, but none that are diſtinguiſhable; a few fine columns of Jupiter Olympus ſtill remain; and the temple of Minerva, now converted, as I have obſerved, into the cathedral, is almoſt entire.
Syracuſe was compoſed of four cities; Ortygia is the only one remaining, by much the ſmalleſt, ſituated in the iſland of that name; is about two miles round, and contains about fourteen thouſand people. The ruins of the other three, Tycha, Acradina, and Nea⯑poli, are computed at twenty-two miles in circum⯑ference; almoſt the whole ſpace of which is now converted into rich vineyards, orchards, and corn⯑fields. The walls of theſe are, indeed, built with broken marbles, full of engravings and inſcriptions, but moſt of them defaced and ſpoiled.
On a hill, near Ortygia, is a convent of capuchin friars. When a ſtranger walks up to this monaſtery, he ſees neither verdure nor tree, all appears one dreary rock; and, little does he ſuſpect he is within reach of extenſive orchards, which, by their produce, yield a handſome income to the friars. No ſight can be more ſingular than the gardens of this convent, [174] which are, in ſome meaſure, ſubterraneous; being contained in the areas of immenſe excavations, made by cutting ſtone for the ancient city. Theſe areas are covered with a thick grove of trees, loaded with rich ſcented bloſſoms, and beautiful fruit. The vaults, of this convent, have the property of drying the bodies of the dead, in a very ſhort ſpace of time; after which, they are dreſſed in religious habits, and placed as ſta⯑tues in niches, on each ſide of the ſubterranean alleys.
The dioceſe of Syracuſe produces above forty dif⯑ferent ſorts of wine; the honey of the hills is as clear as amber, and of delicious flavour; and vegetables are admirable in their kind, particularly brocoli, which grows to a very great ſize. Syracuſe is the mildeſt climate that can be for a winter's reſidence; two or three days of ſharp Eaſterly winds excepted; the remainder of the winter months is a continual ſpring. On the 16th of January, the vines which are kept low, and cloſed pruned, had ſhot out new leaves; the gardens were ſhaded with flowers, and freſh al⯑monds were gathered from the trees. The river, at Ortygia, throws up great quantities of fine amber. Sugar-canes, ready jointed for chewing, are ſold in the market, and ſalt may be had gratis.
[175]Agrigentum, now Girgenti, was the ſecond ancient city, in ſize, to Syracuſe; it is ſituated on the Eaſt coaſt of Sicily, on the top of a mountain, eleven hun⯑dred feet above the level of the ſea, and about four miles diſtant from the port of Agrigentum; from which place the road, on each ſide, is bordered by a row of exceeding large American aloes. When Brydone was there, upwards of one-third of them were in full bloom, and making the moſt beautiful appearance. The flower ſtems, of this noble plant, are, in general, between twenty and thirty feet high (ſome more) and are covered with flowers from top to bottom, which taper regularly, and form a beautiful kind of pyramid; the baſe, or pedeſtal of which, is the fine ſpreading leaves of that plant. With us, they are reckoned only to flower once in a hundred years; but in Sicily they blow always at the lateſt, the ſixth year; and often the fifth. The whole ſubſtance of the plant being carried into the ſtem and the flowers, the leaves begin to decay, as ſoon as the bloom is completed, and a numerous offspring of young plants are produced round the root of the old one; theſe are ſlipped off, and formed into new plantations; either for hedges, or for avenues to their country houſes.
The city of Girgenti is irregular and ugly, but it looks grand at a diſtance; lying on the ſlope of the [176] mountain. The houſes are mean, the ſtreets dirty, crooked and narrow, yet it contains near twenty thouſand people; a ſad reduction from its ancient grandeur, when it was ſaid to conſiſt of no leſs than eight hundred thouſand.
The antiquities of this place are, perhaps, more conſiderable than any in Sicily. The ruins, of the ancient city, lie about eight miles from the modern one. Theſe, like thoſe of the Syracuſe, are moſtly converted into corn-fields, vineyards, and orchards; but the remains of the temples, here, are more con⯑ſpicuous. Four of theſe temples ſtood pretty much in a right line. Half of the firſt remains; the ſecond has every column ſtanding; conſiſting of thirteen fluted Doric pillars, with all their baſes, capitals, entablatures, &c. complete. The third temple is that of Hercules, and contained that famous ſtatue ſo much celebrated by Cicero. Near to this lie ruins of the temple of Jupiter Olympus, ſuppoſed to have been the largeſt in the heathen world. It is now called the giant's temple, but is a perfect ruin. It was exactly, we are told, of the ſame dimenſions with the church of St. Peter, at Rome; but this we apprehend not to be true: the temple of Eſculapius (the ruins of which are ſtill to be ſeen) are not leſs celebrated for a ſtatue of Apollo, which was taken from this temple [177] by the Carthaginians, and continued the greateſt or⯑nament of Carthage for many years; and was, at laſt, reſtored by Scipio, at the final deſtruction of that city. Some Sicilians alledge, that it was afterwards carried to Rome, and is the Apollo of Belvidere.
The ancient walls are moſtly cut out of the rock; the catacombs and ſepulchres are all very great; and the monument of Tero, king of Agrigentum, one of the firſt of the Sicilian tyrants, whoſe name is men⯑tioned by Herodotus and Pindar, muſt be more than two thouſand years old.
All theſe mighty ruins, and the whole mountain on which it ſtands, are compoſed of a concretion of ſea-ſhells, and cemented by a kind of ſand, or gravel, and now become as hard, and, perhaps, more durable than marble; a proof, that this globe muſt have under-gone many convulſions, not recorded in any hiſtory.
The magnificence, the pomp, the hoſpitality of the ancient inhabitants of Agrigentum, may be read in Diodorus Siculus, Pliny, Solinus, Virgil, Timeus, and others. In the great church, at Agrigentum, there is a remarkable echo; ſomething in the manner of our whiſpering gallery at St. Paul's, though more difficult to be accounted for. If one perſon ſtands at the Weſt gate, and another places himſelf on the cornice, [178] at the moſt diſtant point of the church, exactly behind the great altar, they can hold a converſation in very low whiſpers. For many years this ſingularity was not known; and, ſeveral of the confeſſing chairs being placed near the great altar, the wags, who were in the ſecret, uſed to take their ſtation at the door of the ca⯑thedral; and thus heard, diſtinctly, every word that paſſed between the confeſſor and his penitent; of which they did not fail to make their own uſe, when occaſion offered. The moſt ſecret intrigues were diſ⯑covered; and ſuch ladies as were diſpoſed to intrigue, were very well known. This lead every woman in Agrigentum to change, either her gallant, or her con⯑feſſor. Yet, ſtill it was the ſame.—At laſt, however, the cauſe was found out; the chairs were removed, and other precautions taken, to prevent the future diſ⯑covery of ſuch ſacred myſteries.
CHAP. IX. Of the Manners of the Sicilians, their Amuſements, and Travelling.
[179]THE Sicilians, ſays Brydone, are much more ani⯑mated in converſation, than either the French or Neapolitans; and their action is generally ſo juſt, and ſo expreſſive of their ſentiments, that without hearing what is ſaid, one may comprehend the ſubject of their diſcourſe. The origin of this cuſtom they carry ſo far back, as the time of the earlieſt tyrants of Syracuſe; who, to prevent conſpiracies, had forbidden their ſubjects, under heavy penalties, to be ſeen talking together in parties. This induced them to invent a method of communicating their ideas by action, which they pretend has been tranſmitted to poſterity ever ſince.
The people of Sicily, till lately, retained a great many ridiculous and ſuperſtitious cuſtoms, particu⯑larly in their marriage and funeral ceremonies; ſome [180] of them are ſtill retained in the wild and mountainous part of the iſland. As ſoon as the marriage ceremony is performed, two of the attendants are ready to cram a ſpoonful of honey into the mouths of the bride and bridegroom, as emblematical of their love and union, which they hope will continue as ſweet to their ſouls, as is honey to their palates; they then begin to throw handfuls of wheat upon them, which is continued all the way to the houſe of the bridegroom; probably, ſome remains of an ancient rite to Ceres. They fancy it procures them a numerous progeny; but, without this, they are abundantly prolific. Women frequently, ſays Brydone, having upwards of forty children. Car⯑rera mentions one who had forty-ſeven. The young couple are not allowed to partake of the marriage-feaſt; and this to teach them temperance, and pa⯑tience; but, when dinner is finiſhed, a great bone is preſented to the bridegroom, by the bride's father, or one of her neareſt relations, who pronounces theſe words, "Rodi tu queſt' oſſo, &c." "Pick you this bone, for you have now taken in hand to pick one, which you will find much harder, and of more difficult di⯑geſtion." Hence, probably, the old ſaying, "I'll give him a bone to pick."
Like moſt other nations in Europe, they carefully avoid marrying in the month of May, as inauſpicious; a piece of ſuperſtition, perhaps, older than the time [181] of the Romans. But the marriages, of the Sicilian nobility, are celebrated with great magnificence. The ladies marry very young, and often live to ſee the fifth or ſixth generation. They are generally ſprightly and agreeable, ſays Brydone; but what the Engliſh would call ordinary. They have remarkable fine hair, know how to adorn it to the greateſt advantage, and pride themſelves on their female anceſtors', in a dearth of bow-ſtrings, when Palermo was beſieged, cutting off their hair, and twiſting it into ſtrings, for deſtruction to their enemies; which heroiſm ſaved the town till aſſiſtance was procured. Their hair, now, diſcharges no other ſhafts than thoſe of Cupid; and the only cords it forms, are the cords of love.
The Sicilians are much fonder of ſtudy, than their neighbours on the continent, and their education much more attended to; ſo oppoſite are they to the Italian nobility in general, who have nothing but ſmall-talk; the Sicilian nobility talk on ſubjects of literature, hiſtory, and politics, but chiefly of poetry; this is a univerſal topic. Every one, in ſome period of his life, is ſure to be inſpired; and a lover is never be⯑lieved, whilſt he ſpeaks in proſe; but is reckoned true, in proportion as he is poetical.
Many of the young nobility ſpeak Engliſh, and are well acquainted with our poets and philoſophers; our [182] language is a part of their polite education, and they pride themſelves in aſſociating with the well-bred Eng⯑liſh; but do not ſeem pleaſed with their neighbours of the continent.
The native language of Sicily is now a mixture, of Norman, Roman, German, Italian, Spaniſh, and ſome remnants of the old tongue; the iſland having been over-run, at times, by theſe nations. I ſearched among their literature, ſays Swinburne, and met with no good proſe-compoſition; and ſcarcely a poet of moderate genius is to be diſcovered among verſifiers that have rhymed their native dialect.
The luxury of the people here, ſays Brydone, like that of the Neapolitans, conſiſts chiefly in their equi⯑pages and horſes; but, by a wiſe law of the King of Sardinia, ſtill in force, the viceroy alone is allowed to drive in Palermo with ſix horſes; the praeter, the archbiſhop, the preſident of the parliament, with four; all the reſt of the nobility are reſtricted to two, but drive four out of the city. Every family of diſtinction has, at leaſt, two or three carriages in daily uſe; the wife of a man of faſhion has always one at her com⯑mand; and the upper ſervants of the firſt families have one alſo for them.
[183]Prince is a common title here; the eldeſt ſons take the title of marquis, or count, and the younger ſons are called dons; the daughters donnas, before their chriſtian names; as we call the daughters, and younger ſons of dukes, lady and lord.
They make very ſplendid entertainments; and it is a cuſtom, ſays Swinburne, at ſuch entertainments at Girgenti, (he is not ſure it was the ſame at Palermo) that none of the family will taſte a morſel till the ſtran⯑gers have helped themſelves; they are then to help the perſons of the family they dine with. This cuſtom, he apprehends, was founded on an idea, of having given every thing to the gueſt, and then receiving at his hands what he could ſpare.
Some of their amuſements we have deſcribed. They have a very good opera at Palermo; and Brydone ſays, he was preſent at a ballet, which conſiſted of a repreſentation of Vauxhall Gardens, in London; in which all the outrè characters of the Engliſh, in dreſs, and manner, caricatured, from the upper to the lower claſs of people, are exhibited, and with no ſmall de⯑gree of humour. Three quakers were introduced, as duped by three ladies of the town, in concert with three jack-tars, their lovers.
[184]The Sicilians are paſſionately fond of loud wind and inſtrumental muſic; and, upon great holidays, will collect before a church-door, forty or fifty drums, all beating together; for the greater the noiſe, the more honour for the ſaint.
The account of travelling in Sicily, where there are no poſt-roads, no public-carriages, or any inns, we will give our readers from Brydone; who croſſed the iſland in two or three places. Being well recom⯑mended, he had the favour of thoſe who could accom⯑modate him with mules, guards, &c.
When Mr. Brydone propoſed ſetting off from Meſ⯑ſina, towards Catania, the prince of Villa Franca told him, he would give orders for guards to attend him, who ſhould be anſwerable for every thing; that what⯑ever number of mules he had occaſion for, ſhould be at the door of the inn, at any hour he ſhould appoint; that the guards he ſhould ſend, were men of the moſt determined reſolution, as well as the moſt approved fidelity; and would not fail to chaſtiſe, on the ſpot, any perſon who ſhould preſume to impoſe on him.
Theſe guards, Mr. Brydone diſcovered afterwards, to be ſome of the moſt daring, and hardened villains, perhaps, that are to be met with upon earth; who, in any other country, would have been broken on the [185] wheel, or hung in chains; but are here publicly pro⯑tected. The prince's ſecretary told him, that in the Eaſt part of the iſland, called Val Demoni (from the devils that are ſuppoſed to inhabit Mount Aetna) it has ever been found impracticable to extirpate the ban⯑ditti; there being numberleſs caverns, and ſubter⯑raneous paſſages, in that mountain, where no troops could poſſibly purſue them; that, beſides, as they are known to take a dreadful revenge on all who have of⯑fended them, the prince of Villa Franca has embraced it, not only as the ſafeſt, but as the wiſeſt and moſt po⯑litical ſcheme, to become their declared patron and protector; and ſuch of them as think proper to leave their receſſes, though only for a time, are ſure to meet with good encouragement and ſecurity in his ſervice. They enjoy the moſt unbounded confidence; which, in no inſtance, they have ever yet been found to make an improper, or a diſhoneſt uſe of. They are cloathed in the prince's livery, yellow and green, with ſilver⯑lace; and wear likewiſe a badge of their honourable order, which entitles them to univerſal fear and re⯑ſpect from the people.
In ſome circumſtances, theſe banditti are the moſt reſpectable people in the iſland; and have, by much, the higheſt and moſt romantic notions of what they call their point of honour; that, however criminal they may be with regard to ſociety in general; yet, [186] with reſpect to one another, and to every perſon, to whom they have once profeſſed it, they have ever main⯑tained the moſt unſhaken fidelity. The magiſtrates have often been obliged to protect them, and even pay them court, being known to be perfectly determined and deſperate; and ſo extremely vindictive, that they will put any perſon to death, who has ever given them juſt cauſe of provocation. On the other hand, Bry⯑done was well-informed, that it never was known, that any perſon who had put himſelf under their protection, and ſhewed that he had confidence in them, had cauſe to repent it, or was injured by them, in the moſt minute trifle; but, on the contrary, they will protect him from impoſitions of every kind, and ſcorn to go halves with the landlord, like moſt other conductors and travelling ſervants; and will defend them with their lives, if there is occaſion. But thoſe, of their num⯑ber, who have enliſted themſelves in the ſervice of ſo⯑ciety, are known and reſpected by the other banditti all over the iſland; and the perſons of thoſe they ac⯑company, are ever held ſacred. For theſe reaſons, moſt travellers chuſe to hire a couple of them, from town to town, and may then travel over the iſland in ſafety. Two recent ſtories will ſerve to illuſtrate their character.
A number of people were found digging in a place, where ſome treaſure was ſuppoſed to have been con⯑cealed, [187] during the plague; this being forbidden under ſevere penalties, they were immediately taken to priſon, and expected to have been treated without mercy; but, luckily for the reſt, one of theſe ban⯑ditti happened to be of the number. He wrote to the prince of Villa Franca, and made uſe of ſuch powerful arguments in their favour, they were all im⯑mediately ſet at liberty. This ſerves to ſhew their conſequence with the civil power. The other ſtory will give our readers a ſtrong idea of their barbarous ferocity, and the horrid mixture of ſtubborn vice, and virtue, (if it may be called by that name) that ſeems to direct their actions. They have a practice of bor⯑rowing money from the country-people, who dare never refuſe them; and, if they promiſe to pay it, they have ever been found punctual and exact, both as to the time and ſum; and would rather rob and mur⯑der an innocent perſon, than fail of payment at the day appointed; and this they have been often obliged to do, in order (as they ſay) to fulfil their engage⯑ments, and ſave their honour.
It happened, at the time Mr. Brydone was at Meſ⯑ſina, that the brother of one of theſe fellows having occaſion for money, and not knowing how to procure it, determined to make uſe of his brother's name and authority; an artifice, which he thought would not eaſily be diſcovered. He, accordingly, went to a [188] country prieſt, and told him, his brother had occaſion for twenty ducats, which he deſired he would imme⯑diately lend him. The prieſt aſſured him, he had not then ſo large a ſum; but that, if he would return in a few days, it ſhould be ready for him. The other replied, that he was afraid to return to his brother with that anſwer; and deſired that he would, by all means, take care to keep out of his way, at leaſt, till ſuch time as he had pacified him; otherwiſe, he could not be anſwerable for the conſequences. As bad for⯑tune would have it, the prieſt and the robber met in a narrow road. The former trembled, as the latter approached; and, at laſt, dropped on his knees to beg for mercy. The robber, aſtoniſhed at his beha⯑viour, deſired to know the cauſe of it. The trembling prieſt anſwered, "Il denaro, il denaro," "The money, the money"—but ſend your brother to-morrow and you ſhall have it. The haughty robber aſſured him, that he diſdained taking money of a poor prieſt; adding, that if any of his brothers had been low enough to make ſuch a demand, he himſelf was ready to ad⯑vance the ſum. The prieſt then acquainted him with the viſit he had received the preceding night, from his brother, by his order; aſſuring him, that had he been maſter of the ſum, he ſhould immediately have lent it. Well, ſaid the robber, I will now convince you, whether my brother or I are moſt to be believed; you ſhall go with me to his houſe, which is but a few [189] miles off. On their arrival at the door, the robber called on his brother; who, never ſuſpecting the diſ⯑covery, came immediately to the balcony; but, on perceiving the prieſt, began to make excuſes for his conduct. The robber told him, there was no excuſe to be made, that he only deſired to know the fact, whether he had gone to borrow money of that prieſt, in his name? On his ſaying he had, the robber with deliberate coolneſs, raiſed his blunderbuſs to his ſhoulder, and ſhot him dead; and, turning to the aſto⯑niſhed prieſt, "You will now be perſuaded," ſaid he, "that I have no intention of robbing you at leaſt."
This hero might have been one of the guards, ap⯑pointed to conduct Mr. Brydone and his company on the road; for, the prince's ſecretary told him, that if any perſon ſhould preſume to impoſe upon him, to the value of a ſingle baioc (which is a very ſmall coin) he would certainly put him to death. He gave the ſe⯑cretary an ounce, about eleven ſhillings, on which he thanked his excellency, for ſo he called him; and de⯑clared, bowing, he was the moſt honorabilis ſignor, he had ever met with; and that, if he pleaſed, he him⯑ſelf would have the honour of attending him, and would chaſtiſe any perſon who ſhould preſume to take the wall of him, or affront him in the leaſt.
[190]The guards ſent with Mr. Brydone, were two of the moſt reſolute, and deſperate of this gang; two great drawcanſir figures, armed cap-a-pie, with a broad han⯑ger each, two enormous piſtols, and a long arque⯑buſe, kept cocked and ready for action, in all ſuſpi⯑cious places; where they recounted wonderful ſtories of robberies and murders, in which they had been the principal actors. They took great pains that the tra⯑vellers, under their eſcort, ſhould not pay too much, taxing the bills as they thought proper. So, one day's dinner, for eleven men, and feeding ten mules and horſes, did not amount to half-a-guinea; and, though theſe guards are paid one ounce each, per day; they ſave, at leaſt, one-half of it in the bills. They entertained their company with ſome of their feats, and made no ſcruple of owning, that they had put ſeveral people to death; but added, Mas tutti, tutti honorabilmenté. That is to ſay, they did not do it in a daſtardly manner, nor without juſt provocation. There poſſibly may be truth in their ſtories; a num⯑ber of gibbets being erected on the road in terrorem; and every little baron has the power of life and death in his own domain. Four-and-twenty of theſe deſ⯑perate banditti, were lately ſeized, after a ſtrong re⯑ſiſtance, wherein ſeveral were killed on both ſides; and, notwithſtanding ſome were under the protection of the nobility, and in their ſervice, they were all hanged.
CHAP X. On their Government, &c.
[191]THE feudal ſyſtem was firſt introduced here, by count Rugiero, about the middle of the eleventh century; immediately after he had driven the Sara⯑cens out of the iſland, and has continued ever ſince. He divided Sicily into three parts; the firſt, by con⯑ſent of his army, was given to the church; the ſecond he beſtowed on his officers; and the third he reſerved for himſelf.
Of theſe three branches, or as they call them, braccios (arms) he compoſed his parliament; and the form ſtill remains. The braccio militare is compoſed of all the barons of the kingdom, to the number of two hundred and fifty-one, who are ſtill obliged to military ſervice. Their chief is the prince of Butero, who is hereditary preſident of the parliament; for, in conformity to the feudal government, ſome of the great officers are ſtill hereditary. The three archbiſhops, all the biſhops, [192] abbé's, priors, and dignified clergy, amounting to near ſeventy, form the braccio eccleſiaſtice. The archbiſhop of Palermo is their chief. The braccio demaniale is formed by election, like our Houſe of Commons. There are forty-three royal cities, ſtiled Demaniale, that have a right to elect members. Every houſe-holder has a vote at this election. Their chief is the member for Palermo, who is alſo praeter, or mayor of the city. He is an officer of the higheſt rank, and his power is very extenſive; inferior only to the viceroy, in whoſe abſence the greateſt part of the authority de⯑volves on him. He has a company of grenadiers for his body-guard, and receives the title of Excellency.
The praeter, with ſix ſenators, who are ſtyled patri⯑cians, have the management of the civil government of the city. He is appointed every year by the King, or by the viceroy, which is the ſame thing; for the people do not even think of acting; ſo that the very ſhadow of liberty has now diſappeared, as well as the ſubſtance. In ſhort, all courts, both civil and criminal, are appointed by royal authority; and all offices de⯑pend entirely on the caprice of the ſovereign; but they have no inquiſition.
The laws of Sicily are ſcattered through a number of volumes; theſe, the King of Sardinia intended to abridge, and collect into one code; but, unfortu⯑nately, [193] was not long enough in poſſeſſion of the iſland, to accompliſh this uſeful work; but, where there is an authority above law, law can be of little uſe.
The power of the viceroy is very abſolute; he has not only the command of all the military force in the kingdom, but likewiſe preſides with unbounded autho⯑rity in all civil tribunals; and, being alſo inveſted with the legantine power, his ſway is equally great in matters of religion. He has the right of nominating to all the great offices in the kingdom, and confirm⯑ing of all dignities, both civil and eccleſiaſtical.
In viſiting the priſons, a ceremony which he per⯑forms with great pomp, twice a year; he has the power of liberating whatever priſoners he pleaſes; of reducing, or altering their ſentences; their crimes and accuſations having been firſt read over to him. And, that there may be ſome appearance of a regard to law and juſtice, his counſellor always attends him, on theſe occaſions, to point out the limits of the law.
The whole military force of Sicily, amounts, at preſent, to nine thouſand five hundred men; about twelve hundred of which are cavalry. Many of their cities and fortreſſes would require a very numerous garriſon to defend them; particularly Meſſina, Syra⯑cuſe, or Palermo: but, indeed, the ſtate of their for⯑tifications [194] is ſuch, as well as that of their artillery, that were they inclined, they could but make a ſmall defence.
If this iſland had a good navy, or was in the hands of a good naval power, it muſt command the whole trade of the Levant. There are ſeveral little ports at each end of it; beſides the great ones of Trapani, Syracuſe, and Meſſina, which lie pretty near the three angles of the triangle. Whatever ſhips had paſſed either of theſe, the others would be apprized of, in the ſpace of half an hour, by means of ſignal towers, which are erected all round the iſland, to warn them againſt ſudden invaſions from the Barbary coaſt. Theſe towers are built on every little promontory, within ſight of each other. Fires are always kept ready for lighting, and a perſon is appointed to watch at each of them; ſo that the whole iſland, they ſay, can be alarmed in the ſpace of an hour.
The Sicilians have no other means, ſays De Non, of borrowing on their land, but of the farmers, on the renewal of their leaſes; the lands being ever en⯑tailed on the eldeſt ſon, and ſubject to no other incum⯑berance, than annuities for the younger boys, or por⯑tions for the girls; the feudal laws being in as full force for the nobility, in Sicily, as at the Norman [195] conqueſt, which produces law-ſuits for inheritances without end; and enriches a ſwarm of lawyers, who are found in crowds at Palermo, and who are all wealthy. Right being here put up to auction, and juſtice become a branch of commerce, all the money in the kingdom flows into this city, through the chan⯑nel of the tribunals; and is again diſtributed among the public, by the luxury of their preſidents and coun⯑ſellors.
Remote from their King, whom they know only by his repreſentative, the Sicilians are accuſtomed to conſider him as a penſioner; whom they defraud of his due, whilſt they pride themſelves in granting him free gifts; and, from time to time, make experiments of diſobedience, with the ſole view of performing an act that may aſſert their freedom.
The Sicilians have had ſo many ſovereigns, that they are accuſtomed to like none of them; and to give the preference only to him, with whom they can make the beſt conditions. They are ever ready to receive the ſovereign, who eſtabliſhes his authority by force, or him who grants them the moſt favourable terms; but always with the implied reſerve of recur⯑ring, in caſe of violence and tyranny, to the well-known methods of revolt, Sicilian veſpers, or others [196] of the ſame nature. Their country furniſhing them with all ſorts of productions in abundance, they are more difficult to reduce, than any nation; it being impoſſible to keep them in ſubjection, by refuſing them any kind of ſupplies. They may be deſpoiled, but can never be ſtarved, or ruined.
ERRATA.
- VOL. XV. Page 318, line 8, for Chian and Valernian, read Chios and Falernian.
- VOL. XVI. Page 9, the laſt line but one ſhould read thus, Pallida mors aequo pulſat pede pauperum tabernas,
A DESCRIPTION OF THE ISLAND OF MALTA. FROM DE NON, BRYDONE, AND OTHERS.
[]CHAP. I. Of the Hiſtory, Conſtitution, &c.
MALTA was anciently called Iberia, afterwards Ogygia; and by the Greeks, Melite; from which, at laſt, the Saracens formed the appellation of Malta. Mention is made of this iſland, Acts xxviii. Its length is computed at about twenty Italian miles; its greateſt breadth twelve; and its circumference ſixty. It is ſituated in the Mediterranean ſea, eighty miles South of Sicily; lying in North Latitude 36, and between 14 and 15 degrees Weſt Longitude.
[198]Malta, as well as Sicily, was long under the tyranny of the Saracens; from which they were both delivered about the middle of the eleventh century, by the va⯑lour of the Normans; after which time, the fate of Malta commonly reſted on that of Sicily; till the em⯑peror Charles V. about 1530, gave it, together with the adjoining iſland of Gozzo, to the knights of St. John, of Jeruſalem; who, at that time, had loſt the iſland of Rhodes. In teſtimony of this conceſſion, the grand maſter is ſtill obliged, every year, to ſend a falcon to the King of Sicily, or his viceroy; and, on every new ſucceſſion, to ſwear allegiance: and to receive, from the hands of the Sicilian monarch, the inveſtiture of theſe two iſlands.
Unproductive in itſelf, (for it is one ſolid rock, not covered five inches with ſoil) the garriſon, and forti⯑fications neceſſary for its defence, were too burthen-ſome for its ſucceſſive ſovereigns. It became the emporium, and place of refreſhment, for all European veſſels, trading in the Mediterranean; and fell, ſuc⯑ceſſively, under the power of every invader. It re⯑quired, therefore, a ſovereignty, which, from its na⯑ture could only remain neuter; too feeble to give um⯑brage to any other power, and derives all it ſubſiſt⯑ance from without. It was neceſſary alſo, that its poſſeſſors, wealthy in other countries, ſhould bring with them, in ſpecie, what the iſland is obliged to ex⯑pend [199] in the purchaſe of articles of ſubſiſtence; that they ſhould be at once monks, ſoldiers, and bachelors, compoſing one and the ſame family; the economy of whoſe individual members ſhould revert, by inherit⯑ance, to the accumulated maſs, which pays the labour, and provides for the ſubſiſtence, of the active inhabit⯑ants; who had encreaſed, ſince the eſtabliſhment of the order, from 10,000, to 50,000, including the two adjoining iſles of Gozzo and Cumino.
Could the ſovereign then do a more politic thing, than beſtow it on the knights, as he did; by which it is become an epitome of all Europe, and an aſſem⯑blage of the younger brothers, who are commonly the beſt, of its firſt families? It is, probably, one of the beſt academies for politeneſs, in this part of the globe; beſides, where every one is entitled, by law, to de⯑mand ſatisfaction for the leaſt breach of it, people are under a neceſſity of being very exact, and circum⯑ſpect, in their words and actions.
All the knights, and commanders, have much the appearance of gentlemen, and men of the world. Here are no characters in the extreme. The ridi⯑cules and prejudices, of every particular nation, are, by degrees ſoftened, and worn off, by the familiar in⯑tercourſe and colliſion of each other. It is curious, ſays Brydone, to obſerve the effect it produces upon [200] various people, that compoſe this little medley. The French ſkip, the German ſtrut, and the Spaniſh ſtalk, are mingled together, in ſuch ſmall proportions, that none are ſtriking; yet every one of theſe nations ſtill retain ſomething of their original chacteriſtic; for though the Pariſian has, in a great meaſure, loſt his aſſuming air; the Spaniard his taciturnity and ſolem⯑nity; the German his formality and his pride; yet, ſtill you ſee the German, the Frenchman, and the Spaniard.
This inſtitution, which is a ſtrange compound of military and eccleſiaſtic, has now ſubſiſted for near ſeven hundred years; and, though one of the firſt-born, has long ſurvived every other child of chivalry. It poſſeſſes great riches, in moſt of the Catholic coun⯑ties of Europe; and did ſo in England, before the time of Henry VIII. but that capricious tyrant ſeized on all their poſſeſſions, when he plundered the church.
The grand maſter, who is the ſovereign of this little country, is choſen by a committee of twenty-one, nominated by ſeven nations, three out of each nation. The election muſt be over within three days after the death of the former grand maſter; and, during theſe three days, ſcarce a ſoul ſleeps at Malta. All is cabal and intrigue; and moſt of the knights are maſked, to prevent their particular attachment, and [201] connexions from being known. The moment the election is over, every thing returns to its former channel.
When we conſider the credit of the work from which the following ſtory is taken, namely, the well-written Hiſtory of the Order of Malta, by the Abbé Vertot, our readers may poſſibly be pleaſed with a re⯑lation of it, as it occurred under the grand maſter Helion of Villeneuve, about the year 1342.
On this iſland, according to the record of all the authors of that time, was a crocodile of an enormous ſize: this amphibious animal kept its abode, in a hol⯑low ground, at the top of the mountain St. Ettienne, two miles diſtant from the town; from whence it made its appearance, from time to time. Sheep, cows, and even ſhepherds, were ſuddenly miſſed, and became the prey of this monſter. Several knights went forth to deſtroy it, but none returned; but at the com⯑mencement of the fourteenth century fire-arms were not invented, and the ſkin of this animal, being co⯑vered with ſcales, was impregnable to arrows, and ja⯑velins. He fought to advantage, and was conqueror in every combat. This urged the grand maſter to forbid any further attempts of the knights to deſtroy it, on pain of expulſion from the order.
[202]One only broke through this ſtrict injunction. Dieu-don de Gozon, with a heroiſm peculiar to the times, determined once more to make the attempt; notwithſtanding the ill-fate of his brethren, and the command of the grand maſter to the contrary; chuſing rather to loſe his life in the conflict, than ſuffer ſuch a dangerous animal to exiſt.
Animated by the true ſpirit of chivalry, Gozon meditated on means to carry his deſign into execution; and retired, for that purpoſe, to Caſtle Gozon, in Languedoc. Having obſerved that the crocodile had no ſcales upon its belly, he regulated his meaſures accordingly.
He ordered a figure of this beaſt to be made, in wood, which he carried in his mind, and had it painted of the natural colour. This done, he taught two dogs, at his call, to attack it about the belly; whilſt he ſtood by on horſeback, covered with a coat of mail, and ſtruck him often with his lance.
This gave the knight time to riſe again, and to run his ſword, to the haft, into the belly of the animal, at [204] a place where it was not covered with ſcales. The blood ran rapidly from the wound, and the monſter fell, mortally wounded, on its back; and this threw the knight on the ground again. He would now have been preſſed to death, by the weight of the crocodile, had his two ſervants not haſtened up, and drawn him from under it. He was in a fit, and they thought him dead; but, having taken the helmet from his head, he opened his eyes; and the firſt agreeable object, that ſtruck him, was the death of the enemy. The honour of having overcome a monſter, that had been the death of ſeveral of his brethren, gave freſh mo⯑tion to his blood, and freſh elaſticity to his nerves.
The news of this victory; and the death of the cro⯑codile, had ſcarce reached the town, when multitudes came forth to the field of battle; and the knights of Malta conducted their brother, in triumph, to the pa⯑lace of the grand maſter. But how great was Gozon's aſtoniſhment, when he ſaw the grand maſter approach him with anger. Had you forgot my order, ſaid Villeneuve, with the tone of a regent? Can you hope to eſcape with impunity, in having offended againſt my commands? Gozon was inſtantly carried to priſon, without being ſuffered to ſay a word in his defence; nor could all that the knights, in general, ſay, ſoften Villeneuve's reſentment. The grand maſter called a council of war; and repreſented to them, that it was [205] abſolutely neceſſary to puniſh his diſobedience; which was far more injurious to the order, than many ſuch monſters. Like Manlius, the Roman, he inſiſted upon it that the conqueror ſhould be puniſhed for this victory.
The unfortunate Gozon was conſequently adjudged to have forfeited the robe of the order; a puniſhment more ſevere to him than death itſelf. But the grand maſter, after having ſatisfied the law, ſo arranged matters, that he was requeſted to grant a favour, which he himſelf would have begged, had he not been grand maſter. At the requeſt of the knights, he re⯑ſtored the robe to the chevalier, and loaded him with favours; and the head of the monſter was fixed up, at one of the town-gates, as a monument of victory. Thevenot ſays, in his travels, which he pub⯑liſhed in 1637, either that he ſaw it, or a picture of it. According to this author, the jaw ſplit to the ears, his teeth and eyes were of an uncommon ſize, the noſ⯑trils round, and the colour grey.
We have given this account as we find it in Vertot, leaving it to the judgment of our readers to decide on its probability. So much we find in cotemporary writers, from inſcriptions, and other tokens of the ſame period, that chevalier Gozon had killed a great formidable animal, and had acquired great honour [206] among the people of Rhodes in ſo doing; who con⯑ſidered him as their deliverer. This may eaſily be credited.
The grand maſter gave him, ſoon after, ſeveral lu⯑crative places, to indemnify him; and, finding that Gozon had as much prudence as valour, appointed him his lieutenant; convinced that a man, who had ſo nobly ventured his life for the good of his coun⯑trymen; would defend them, in war, againſt any en⯑terpize of an enemy, with equal, if not ſtill greater, courage.
Of this renowned man we will give another anec⯑dote, ſtill more characteriſtic. The grand maſter, Vil⯑leneuve, died in 1346. Many aſpired to this im⯑portant office. The elder knights, though reſting in peace, after the actions of their younger days, wiſhed for a grand maſter of a peaceful diſpoſition. The younger ones were of a contrary turn; they coveted a keen and fiery chief, who would lead them to war; and give them an opportunity of acquiring glory and riches. Gozon was one of the competitors; and, on entering the council, or conclave, he ſaid, "On my admiſſion here, I took a ſolemn oath to give my ſuf⯑frage to the worthieſt knight; and propoſe, to this ex⯑alted poſt, the man, who, in my opinion, has moſt the good of the order at heart. Having conſidered ſe⯑riouſly [207] on the ſtate of Chriſtendom; having taken into conſideration the continual war we have to carry on againſt the Infidels; in a word, having impartially conſidered that firmneſs of character, which a grand maſter ought to be poſſeſſed of, in order to ſupport the laws with reſpect, to counteract every diſorder in the ſtate, and ſhew an intrepidity in the moſt dan⯑gerous ſituations; I having weighed all this in my mind, I declare it to be my opinion, that no one can fill this poſt better than—myſelf." Gozon then en⯑larged, in a very eloquent ſpeech, on his own merits and virtues. The combat with the monſter was not forgotten, but he particularly brought to mind his con⯑duct, whilſt he was lieutenant to the grand maſter. "You already know," continued he, "my manner of governing;—you know what you have to expect from me;—and you know alſo that you cannot, without injuſtice, deny me your votes." The ſurprized aſ⯑ſembly acknowledged his merits, and choſe him grand maſter, unanimouſly.
Since this time it has been the cuſtom to aſk for the grand maſterſhip of Malta, without having killed a monſter.
The grand maſter of Malta is called Serene High⯑neſs, and Eminence. He has the diſpoſal of all lu⯑crative places, makes whom he pleaſes of his council; [208] and in all the councils, that compoſe the juriſdiction of this little nation, he preſides himſelf, and has two votes. He has the diſpoſal of twenty-one commen⯑daries, worth upwards of £. 2000 a year, and one pri⯑ory every five years; and, as there are always a num⯑ber of competitors, and expectants, he is very much cruſhed. He is always a prieſt; and eſteems his ſi⯑tuation the moſt eminent a private individual can ob⯑tain, except the Papacy. In ſhort, ſays Brydone, he is more abſolute, and poſſeſſes more power, than moſt ſovereign princes. His houſhold attendance, and court, are all very princely; and yet, ſays De Non, he is only what a conſul was at Rome, an archon at Athens; and what a landman now is in Switzerland. But he has a privy council; where every matter, to be diſcuſſed, muſt be propoſed by the grand maſter; ſo that, unleſs he ſees he can carry his point, he is ſilent; and, of courſe, abſolute. Notwithſtanding this, he may not be ſo happy. Surrounded by ambi⯑tious pretenders, his court is a prey to intrigue; and his territory is ſo limited, that he can never remove far from his tomb, towards which he will haſten, though a thouſand of his brotherhood regret that his ap⯑proaches are ſo ſlow. Nay, when within his palace, under ties to all the ſovereigns of Europe, who grant unmeaning honours to his flag; and without a force ſufficient to act the part of a neutral power, he is continually reduced to the neceſſity of making apo⯑logies; [209] and to atone, for every ſeeming offence, to thoſe princes who demand it; and, in his own country, ſurrounded with fortifications, with mortars, and with cannon, this unfortunate ſovereign is perpetually, on the defence, againſt inteſtine cabals, conſpiracies, and revolts; and cannot have a moment's eaſe.
The land-force of Malta is equal to the number of men in the iſland, fit to bear arms. They have about five hundred regulars, belonging to the ſhips of war; and one hundred and fifty compoſe the guard of the prince. The two iſlands, of Malta and Gozzo, con⯑tain about one hundred and fifty thouſand inhabitants. The men are exceedingly robuſt and hardy; and will row ſtanding, ſhoving the handle of the oars from them, for ten or twelve hours, without intermiſſion.
Their navy conſiſts of four gallies, three galliots, four ſhips, of ſixty guns, and a frigate of thirty-ſix; beſides a number of quick ſailing little veſſels, called Scampaira's, or run-aways. Their ſhips, gallies, and fortifications, are not only well ſupplied with excel⯑lent artillery, but they have invented an ordnance of their own, unknown to all the world beſides; their very rocks are cut into artillery, being hollowed out, in many places, in the form of vaſt mortars; the charge of which is ſaid to be a barrel of gunpowder; on which they place a lage piece of wood, made ex⯑actly [210] to fit the mouth of the chamber. On this they heap a great quantity of cannon balls, ſhells, or other deadly materials; and, when an enemy's ſhip ap⯑proaches the harbour, they fire the whole into the air; making a ſhower, for two or three hundred yards round, that would ſink any veſſel.
Brydone has juſt ſeen the naval force of Malta, in its greateſt gala. It was the departure of a Malteſe ſquadron, to aſſiſt the French againſt the Bey of Tu⯑nis; who had offended the French King, by refuſing to deliver up, without ranſom, the Corſican ſlaves, that were taken, before the French were in poſſeſſion of that iſland. The ſquadron conſiſted of three gal⯑lies, the largeſt with nine hundred men; each of the others with ſeven hundred; three galliots, and ſeveral ſcampaira's. Theſe immenſe bodies were all worked by oars, and moved with great regularity. The ad⯑miral went firſt, and the reſt in order, according to their dignity. The ſea was crouded with boats, it was a fine evening, and the ramparts, and fortifica⯑tions, were filled with company. The port reſounded, on all ſides, with the diſcharge of heavy artillery, an⯑nounced by the gallies, and galliots, as they left the harbour; and, as the echo here is uncommonly great, it had a very noble effect. There were about thirty knights in each galley, making ſignals, all the way, to [211] their miſtreſſes, who were weeping for their departure upon the baſtions.
Notwithſtanding the ſuppoſed bigotry of the Mal⯑teſe, the ſpirit of toleration is ſo ſtrong, that they have ſuffered the Turks, their ſworn enemies, to erect a moſque, and puniſh any who diſturb them.
Perhaps Malta is the only country where duelling is permitted by law; for, as their eſtabliſhment origi⯑nated in chivalry, they appear, in ſome points, to keep it up; though they ſo reſtrict this toleration, as greatly to leſſen its danger. The dueliſts are obliged to fight in one particular ſtreet of the city; and are obliged, under ſevere cenſure, to put up their ſwords, when ordered ſo to do by a woman, a prieſt, or a knight. But even this does not prevent bloodſhed. A croſs is always painted on the wall, oppoſite to the ſpot where a knight has been killed in a duel; and this is in com⯑memoration of his fall. Brydone ſays he counted about twenty of ſuch croſſes.
Brydone ſays, about three months before he was there, two knights had a diſpute at a billiard table. One of them, after a great deal of abuſive language, gave the other a blow; and, to the aſtoniſhment of all Malta, after ſo great an affront, abſolutely refuſed to fight his antagoniſt.—The challenge was repeated; [212] he had time to reflect on the conſequences, and ſtill refuſed. For this he was condemned to make the amende honorable, in the great church, for forty-five days, ſucceſſively; then to be confined to a dark dun⯑geon, for five years; and, after this, to remain a pri⯑ſoner for life. The unfortunate young man, who re⯑ceived the blow, was alſo in diſgrace, not having had an opportunity of wiping it out, in the blood of his adverſary.
CHAP. II. Of the Iſland, its Productions, People, &c.
MR. Brydone, and his company, approached Malta by ſea; having paſſed from Sicily in a ſix-oared ſhallow boat, ſcarce able to hold ſix perſons, beſides the rowers; but the ſea, in the channel between the two iſlands, being pretty calm, at certain ſeaſons, it is the only veſſel that paſſes it.
The aſpect of the country, ſays he, is far from pleaſing; the whole being, as I obſerved, on a rock [213] of free-ſtone, thinly covered with earth; yet their crops, in general, were abundant, owing to the dews that fall, during the ſpring and ſummer months, and their corn and cotton looked well; it was then in the beginning of the month of June. Their barley har⯑veſt was then over, and they were juſt finiſhing that of wheat. All the corn, grown in the iſland, will ſupport the people but five months; the crop they muſt depend on is the cotton. They begin ſowing in the middle of May, finiſh in the middle of June, and reap in October, and beginning of November.
The cotton-plant riſes to the height of eighteen inches, and is covered with a number of nuts, or pods, full of cotton. Theſe, when ripe, they cut off every morning, before the ſun riſes; as the ſun's heat turns it yellow. They manufacture this into a variety of ſtuffs, and very fine ſtockings; ſome have been ſold for ten ſequins a pair, near ſeven pounds ten ſhillings Engliſh. Their worſteds and blankets are eſteemed all over Europe. The chief manufactures are at Gozzo. Small quantities of the ſugar-cane are here cultivated. The Malteſe oranges are reckoned the fineſt in the world. The trees are covered with fruit, from November till the middle of June. They are red oranges; the juice is red as blood; being the common orange-bud, grafted on the pomegranate ſtock. The greateſt part of this crop is ſent, as pre⯑ſents, [214] to crowned-heads, and to the relations of the knights.
The induſtry of the Malteſe, in cultivating their little iſland, is inconceivable. There is not an inch of ground loſt in any part of it; and, where the ſoil failed, they have covered the ſtone with earth, brought from Sicily, in ſhips and boats. The whole iſland is full of encloſures of free-ſtone; which, in ſummer, reflects ſo much light, and heat, as to be very trou⯑bleſome to the eyes.
The iſland is covered with country-houſes, and vil⯑lages, beſides the towns which they call cities; though there are only two, the Valetta, and the Citta Vec⯑chia, that deſerve that name. Every little village has a noble church, elegantly finiſhed, and adorned with marble ſtatues, rich tapeſtry, and a profuſion of ſilver plate. They are, ſays Brydone, by much the hand⯑ſomeſt churches I ever ſaw.
A PLAN of the CITY of MALTA.
- 1 [...] o [...] St. [...]
- 2 Women's Hospital
- 3 Magis [...] Palace
- 4 St. Mary Magdalen
- 5 The [...]
- 6 [...] Prison
- 7 St. [...] Chapel
- 8 [...] Church & College
- 9 Our Lady Chapel
- 10 Dominician Church
- 11 St. [...] Church
- 12 St. [...]
- 13 St. John Bap•. Church
- 14 The Market Place
- 15 Monast [...]ry of St. U [...]
- 16 [...]
- 17 French Chapel
- 18 [...] of Portugal
- 19 St. [...] of holy Ch [...].
- 20 St. James [...]
- 21 [...] Church
- 22 Conservatory Palace
- 23 St. L [...]ie
- 24 Treasury Palace
- 25 [...]a [...]cery Palace
- 26 German Hotel
- 27 Arr [...]gon Hotel
- 28 The Barrack
- 29 Augustin's [...]
- 30 The Mill & Oven
- 31 [...]
- 32 Place of [...]
- 33 [...] Hotel
- 34 St. John C [...]liers
- 35 St. James C [...]iers
- 36 Wood [...]
- 37 Wind Mill
- 38 [...] Church
- 39 [...]
- 40 [...] St. Church
- 41 Hospital for Men
- 42 Do.... for Women
- 43 [...]
- 44 Riccaroli Port
- 45 Salvador Cattle
- 46 St. Agne Cattle
- 47 Butcher Row
- 48 Galley Hotel for Generals
- 49 Galley Hotel for Captaine
- 50 Wood Magazine
- 51 St. Margaret's Monestry
- 52 St. Lawrence Church
- 53 Dominican Church
- 54 Inguisition Palace
- 55 Corps Barrack
- 56 Cormes Barefooted
- 57 St. Crucifix Church
- 58 St. Paul's Chapel
- 59 Market Pl!
- 60 St. John's Chu!
- 61 Magazine for the Mature
- 62 Ship's Magazine
- 63 St. Cross Church
- 64 Manoel Carden
- 65 Mature Magazine
- 66 St. Philip Church
- 67 The Syren Carden
- A City Valette
- B Lower Town
- C Lasencle Town
- D The Bormola
- E Victorause City
The harbour, on the north ſide of the city, although only uſed for fiſhing, and as a place of quarantine, would, in any other part of the world, be conſidered as ineſtimable. It is ably defended by very ſtrong works; and in the centre of the baſon is an iſland, on which is built a caſtle and a lazaretto.
The fortifications of Malta are indeed a moſt ſtu⯑penduous work. All the boaſted catacombs of Rome, and Naples, are a trifle to the immenſe excavations that have been made in this little iſland. The ditches, of a vaſt ſize, are all cut out of a ſolid rock. Theſe extend for many miles, and raiſe our aſtoniſhment to [216] think that ſo ſmall a ſtate has been ever able to make them.
One ſide of the iſland is ſo completely fortified by nature, that there was nothing left for art. The rock is of a great height, and abſolutely perpendicular, from the ſea, for ſeveral miles. Yet, even on this ſide, there are ſtill the veſtiges of ſeveral ancient roads, with the tracks of carriages worn deep in the rocks. Theſe roads are now terminated by the pre⯑cipices with the ſea beneath; and clearly ſhew that, in former ages, this iſland has been much larger than it is. Indeed it has often been obſerved to have been affected by the irruption of mount Aetna; which may be clearly ſeen from this. They reckon the diſ⯑tance near two hundred Italian miles; and the people declare that, during the irruption, the whole iſland is illuminated; and, from the reflection in the water, there appears a great track of fire in the ſea, all the way from Malta to Sicily. The thundering of the mountain is alſo diſtinctly heard.
The city of Valetta is built upon a hill. None of the ſtreets, except the key, are level. They are all paved with white free-ſtone, which creates a great duſt; and, by its glare, burts the eyes of the people. There are two good inns in the town. Beautiful and ſpacious flights of ſtone ſteps conduct to large [217] ſtreets, perfectly ſtrait, and well paved. The houſes are built of free ſtone, and continue ſo beautifully white, as to look like new. In ſhort, on approaching the harbour, the ſuperb proſpect, within its innumer⯑able forts, and its two towns, the old and the new, built in an amphitheatre, gives it an appearance, and renders it more magnificent, than any other city in the world. Every edifice, public and private, is re⯑markably well-built; and the whole ſeems founded on vaſt, and noble baſtions.
The principal public buildings are, the palace, the infirmary, the arſenal, the hotels of the ſeven tongues of the great church of St John.—The palace is a noble, though plain, ſtructure; and the grand maſter is more comfortably lodged than any prince in Eu⯑rope, except the King of Sardinia. St. John's is a magnificent church; the pavement is reckoned the richeſt in the world. It is entirely compoſed of ſe⯑pulchral monuments, of the fineſt marbles, porphyry, lapis lazuli, and a variety of other valuable ſtones, admirably joined together, at an incredible expence; repreſenting, in a kind of Moſaic, the arms, inſignia, &c. of the perſons they commemorate. There are but two inns, as I have obſerved, in this city, the Fal⯑con and the Three Kings; the accommodations are good, the treatment civil, and the entertainment of the beſt, for half-a-crown a day, each.
[218]No ſpot on earth can be more fortunate, and more fertile, than Sicily; none can be more unfruitful, more barren, or more wretchedly ſituated, ſays De Non, than Malta. In Sicily crops of every kind are produced; and though they rapidly ſucceed, and preſs upon each other, the peaſant, there, is poor, languid, and diſguſtingly dirty. At Malta, the farmer can force from the ſoil a little corn, and cotton; yet poverty there is ſo active, ſo induſtrious, and ſo neat, that it has the air only of abſtinence. Large breeches and a ſhirt of blue linen, a broad ſaſh, and the arms and feet left naked, form the whole deſcription of the light dreſs and ornaments of the Malteſe. Their features and complexion are as Arabian as their lan⯑guage. Intereſting and artful in all their bargains, they are ſcupulouſly faithful, in fulfilling every con⯑tract, which renders all commercial intercourſe with them ſafe, and eaſy. The women are exempted from every kind of labour, which is entirely performed by the men, even to the moſt trivial houſhold-work. In imitation of the Levantine and Eaſtern cuſtoms, it ſeems as if they limited the uſe of the ſex, to the ſole department of pleaſure. Though under a burning ſky, they poſſeſs the fair ſkin of the inhabitants of the North, with the impaſſioned expreſſion of the Ori⯑entals; their beauty is neither Grecian, nor majeſtic. but is not, on that account, the leſs ſeducing. With fine complexions, which they carefully preſerve, they [219] have almoſt all of them large eyes; in which love ſeems to lie in ambuſh, beneath their long eyelids, that gives them a pleaſing air of languor, not a little reſembling modeſty. Thoſe of the country are ſaid to be faithful to their huſbands; but the women of the city know no more how to reſiſt the gold of Ba⯑illis, than the amorous ſighs of the youthful knights; and we accordingly find, at Malta, the utmoſt licen⯑tiouſneſs of celibacy. Their creſſes diſplay more of coquetry than magnificence. Elegance and neatneſs conſtitute their luxury. They have a cuſtom of ſhaving themſelves, like the men; but then it is with ſo much art, that you muſt come very cloſe to them, to diſcover the voluptuous effect of this practiſe. This operation they perform, very dextrouſly, with broken glaſs.
The 6th of June is held as a thankſgiving for their deliverance from a terrible conſpiracy, that was formed, between thirty and forty years ago, by the Turkiſh ſlaves; at one ſtroke to put an end to the whole order of Malta. All the fountains of the palace were to be poiſoned; and every ſlave had taken a ſolemn oath to put his maſter to death.
It was diſcovered by a Jew, who kept a coffee-houſe. He underſtood the Turkiſh language; and, over-hearing ſome diſcourſe he thought ſuſpicious, went [220] and informed the grand maſter. The ſuſpected per⯑ſons were inſtantly ſeized, and put to the torture, and ſoon confeſſed the whole. The executions were ſhocking. One hundred and twenty-five were put to death, by various torments; ſome were burned alive, ſome were broken on the wheel, and ſome torn to pieces by four gallies, rowing different ways, and each bringing off its limb. Since that time the ſlaves have been more narrowly watched, and have leſs li⯑berty, than formerly.
The horſe-races of Malta are of a very uncommon kind; performed without either ſaddle, bridle, whip, or ſpur; and yet the horſes run full ſpeed, and af⯑ford much diverſion. They are accuſtomed to the ground for ſome weeks before; and, though it is en⯑tirely over rock and pavement, there are ſeldom any accidents. They have races of aſſes and mules, per⯑formed in the ſame manner, four times a year. The rider is only furniſhed with a weapon like a ſhoe⯑maker's awl, to puſh on his courſer, if he is lazy.
The ancient city of Melita ſtands, nearly, in the centre of the iſland; and, from its high ſituation, commands a view of the whole; and, in clear wea⯑ther, they ſay, of part of Barbary and Sicily. It is ſtrongly fortified, and governed by an officer, called the Hahem. The cathedral is a fine church, exceed⯑ingly [221] large; and was hung, when Brydone was there, with crimſon damaſk, richly laced with gold.
Not far from the old city is a ſmall church, dedi⯑cated to St. Paul; and juſt by the church, a miracu⯑lous ſtatue of the Saint, with a viper in his hand; ſup⯑poſed to be placed on the very ſpot on which the houſe ſtood, where he was received after his ſhipwreck on this iſland; and where he ſhook the viper off his hand, into the fire, without being hurt by it; at which time, the Malteſe ſay, the Saint curſed all the ve⯑nomous animals of the iſland, and baniſhed them for ever; as St Peter healed thoſe of his favourite iſle. Whether this be the cauſe or not, there are no ve⯑nomous animals in Malta; and the people ſay, that vipers have been brought from Sicily, and died, al⯑moſt, immediately on their arrival.
Adjoining the church there is the celebrated grotto, in which St. Paul was impriſoned. It is very damp, and produces a whitiſh kind of ſtone; which, they aver, when reduced to powder, is a ſovereign remedy in many diſeaſes. Boxes of it are ſent, annually, to Sicily, Italy, the Levant, and the Eaſt Indies; and what is conſidered as a ſtanding miracle, notwith⯑ſtanding this conſumption, it has never been exhauſted, nor ever ſenſibly diminiſhed; the Saint always taking care to ſupply them, with a freſh quantity, the day [222] following. It is ſomething like magneſia, in look and taſte. They give a tea-ſpoonful to children in fevers, and the ſmall-pox; which produces a copious ſweat, about an hour after, and never fails, they ſay, to be of ſervice. It is eſteemed a certain remedy againſt the bite of all venomous animals. There is a very fine ſtatue of St. Paul, in the middle of this grotto, to which is aſcribed great power. St. Paul, after his ſhipwreck, continued in this iſland three months, and preached the goſpel.
The catacombs, not far from this city, are a great work. They are ſaid to extend fifteen miles under ground. Many people, they ſay, have been loſt in tracing them; for, branching out into ſo many parts, they could not find their way back. The paſ⯑ſages, or galleries, are ſo very narrow, that only one perſon can paſs at a time; but they are well finiſhed, and well preſerved.
The grand maſter's country palace is repreſented as an extenſive place, with fine hunting in the woods; but, in fact, it only contains a few ſcattered trees, and about half-a-dozen deers; yet, this being the only thing like a wood in the iſland, it is eſteemed a great curioſity. The palace is as poor a thing; and the fur⯑niture three or four hundred years old, in the moſt Gothic taſte; but the grand maſter never reſides here.
[223]Great ſource of water, that ſupplies the city of Valetta, takes its riſe near this place; and is conveyed by an aqueduct of ſome thouſand arches. The car⯑riages, to paſs from one part of the iſland to another, are coaches drawn by one mule; the only kind of ve⯑hicle they have.
Indeed you here go out of town, without finding the country; for what is ſo called, is as much covered with buildings, as the city, and ſeems as ſtrongly for⯑tified, by large continued walls, which hold up or in⯑caſe the little earth there is naturally in the iſland, or what is brought, or fabricated there; for, by breaking the ſoft ſoil, and mixing it with earth and rolling it, the indefatigable Malteſe compoſe a ſoil fit for cotton, and they abandon, almoſt, every other ſpecies of cul⯑ture for this; which, by its ſale, ſupplies the want of every other production.
The grand maſter has lately laid the foundation of a muſeum, to be the property of the order, as is the li⯑brary, which is conſiderable. They have found ſome marble bas-reliefs here, Roman works, which appear, ſays De Non, to be portraits; among theſe is a head of Cicero's daughter.
The iſle of Gozzo has been imagined, by many of our modern antiquaries, to have been the iſland of [224] Calypſo; but this opinion has been ſome years out of faſhion; and though there is nothing at Malta, which in the leaſt reſembles the deſcription of that iſland, by Homer and Fenelon, they have now transferred the reſidence of that amorous nymph there; and placed her palace at the bottom of the harbour of la Melleha. Here are a number of romantic characters, cut out of the rock, more like hermit's cells than any other thing; and yet they call one of theſe Calypſo's dreſſing room. It is poſſible for imagination to deſtroy all that now exiſts, and ſuppoſe things to exiſt, which never could exiſt; yet ſtill it is imagination, after all, and nothing elſe.
The Greeks, undoubtedly, had ſettlements at Goz⯑zo; for ſome coins, of Gozzo itſelf, are found, re⯑preſenting a head of Diana, with a creſcent over it; and, on the other ſide, a ſoldier armed with a ſword and buckler, in the action of attack.
A DESCRIPTION OF THE POPE'S TERRITORIES. FROM BUSCHING, KEYSLER, MOORE, MARTYN, GROSLEY, SHERLOCK, SHARP, MILLAR, PIOZZI, BARRETTI, AND OTHERS.
[]CHAP I. Situation, Extent, and general View.
THE dominions of the Holy See compoſe what the Italians call ſtato della chieſa; and are bounded, on the North, by the territories of the ſtates of Venice; by the Adriatic Sea, on the North-Eaſt; by Naples, on the South-Eaſt; by the Tuſcan Sea, on the South-Weſt; by Tuſcany, on the North-Weſt; and by the duchies of Modena and Mantua, on the Weſt; which it encompaſſes on three ſides.
[229]Theſe dominions conſiſt of the compagna of Rome; St. Peter's patrimony; the duchies of Caſtro, Spo⯑letto and Urbino; the marquiſate of Ancona; the Sabineſe, the Romagna; which comprehends the Bo⯑logneſe and duchy of Ferrara; the Perrugin; and the territory of Orvieto. Beſides theſe provinces, the duchy of Benevento, in the kingdom of Naples, and the county of Avignon, in the South of France, belong to the Pope.
The greateſt length of this country may be about two hundred and forty Italian miles; as to the breadth, from Civita Vecchia to Ancona, is about one hun⯑dred and thirty miles; but, in many other places, it is not near ſo broad; and, in ſome parts, is ſcarce twenty miles.
On conſidering that the Pope's dominions gene⯑rally conſiſt of a very fertile, and excellent ſoil; that his harbours, both on the Adriatic and Mediterranean ſeas, are very advantageouſly ſituated for trade; that he receives conſiderable ſums from other parts; that his country is viſited by numbers of foreigners, who ſpend a great deal of money in it; and that, on account of the ſuppoſed ſanctity of his perſon and character, his government ſhould ſeem beſt calculated for the welfare of his ſubjects: one would be apt to [227] imagine that, of all ſtates, this ought to be the moſt flouriſhing, were not the reverſe manifeſt.
The country is but ill cultivated, and very poor, and thin of inhabitants; the city of Bologna, alone, excepted. Trade and manufactures are totally ſtag⯑nant; and did not the bounty of Providence furniſh the inhabitants with dates, almonds, figs, olives, fruits, and ſuch like products of the earth, growing ſponta⯑neouſly, and without any culture; and deal out to them bread and wine, at the expence of very little labour, their ſloth would abſolutely ſtarve them.
Their little inclination, and ſpirit for work, is not to be wondered at; becauſe they are conſcious, that if they have much, much will be taken from them; and, in the end, nothing will be left them. The many holidays, which are ſuch an impediment to trade and buſineſs; the great number of young ſturdy beg⯑gars, ſtrolling about, and burthening the inhabitants, under the appearance of pilgrims; the many hoſpi⯑tals, which confirm the people in idleneſs; the multi⯑tude of convents, that hinder the increaſe of inha⯑bitants; the inconceivable wealth of churches and convents, which lie dormant, without the leaſt ad⯑vantage to the public; the inquiſition, which will not permit the want of the inhabitants to be ſupplied, by thoſe of another religion; are ſome great cauſes of [228] the wretched condition of the papal dominions; though there are others attended with ſtill worſe conſequences.
No government equals the papal in rigour; the temporal ſword being not the only one uſed; but alſo, on ſeveral occaſions, the ſpiritual, or inquiſition. Beſides, nothing is ſo monſtrous as the paſſion by which popes, cardinals, and other great prelates have been carried away, for enriching and promoting their nephews and relations; and nothing is ſo vain as the ambition of gaining for themſelves a great name, by founding convents and churches. The regulars vie with each other in the number, ſplendor, and riches of their churches and chapels; but it is from the ſweat of the poor inhabitants that the money is gene⯑rally extracted for the ſupport of this frivolous rival⯑ſhip. The legates, governors, and other inferior of⯑ficers in the provinces, knowing that the time of hold⯑ing their charge is ſhort and uncertain, ſcruple no kind of rapaciouſneſs. By collating theſe cauſes it will no longer be a ſubject of ſurprize, if, in all parts of Europe, there is not a more wretched people than the Pope's temporal ſubjects.
PLAN of the CITY OF ROME.
- 1 St. Peter
- 2 St. Peter Place
- 3 Castle of St. Angelo
- 4 Palace of the Vatican
- 5 St. Lawrence
- 6 St. Spirit [...]
- 7 [...] Palace
- 8 St. [...]
- 9 St. M. Queen of Heaven
- 10 St. Peter in [...]
- 11 [...] & D [...]i [...]
- 12 [...] Aplico of St. Michael
- 13 St. [...] in Tr [...]erere
- 14 [...] of the most Holy Conception
- 15 St. M. of the Angels
- 16 Barbe [...]i [...]i Palace
- 17 St. Anthony Abbey
- 18 St. Nicholas
- 19 Mig [...]i Palace
- 20 St. Lawrence in Pain and Pe [...]a
- 21 St. John in L [...]r
- 22 St. Mary of the Holy Mount
- 23 St. Sil [...]ro in Capet
- 24 [...] Palace
- 25 [...] Palace
- 26 St. Dominick & Si [...]a
- 27 St. Co [...]o &c D [...]i [...]
- 28 Titus Arch
- 29 Clementino College
- 30 [...] Palace
- 31 St. Lawrence in Lucia
- 32 [...] Palace
- 33 [...] Palace
- 34 St. M. [...]pper the [...]
- 35 J [...]
- 36 St. Mary of the Consolation
- 37 St. A [...]o [...]ino
- 38 [...] Palace
- 39 St. L [...]io
- 40 Mattei Palace
- 41 St. M. in Vallicella
- 42 Sforza Cezarina Palace
- 43 St. Mary al Monserrato
- 44 St. Thomas English College
- 45 Farnese Palace
- 46 Spada Palace
- 47 Pellegrin St. Trinity
- 48 St. Francis Pomaria
- 49 Giano Arch
- 50 St. M. Co [...]din
- 51 St. M. Egeziaco
- 52 St. Lawrence in Miranda
- 54 St. Adrian
- 55 Gallieno Arch
- 56 Coloseo
- 57 Mount Tertaccio
- 58 St. M. d'Ara Ceti
- 59 St. Galla
- 60 St. John Calibita
- 61 St. Bartholomew
- 62 St. Offlrio Palace
- 63 St. Peters Seminary
- 64 People Gate
- 65 Pinciana Gate
- 66 St. Lawrence Gate
- 67 the Great Gate
- 68 Castrense Amphith!
- 69 St. Johns Gate
- 70 Latina Gate
- 71 Sebastian Gate
- 72 St. Pauls Gate
- 73 Portesse Gate
- 74 St. Pacrazio Gate
- 75 Cavalliggaria Gate
- 76 Angelica Gate
- 77 Castle Gate
- 78 Pia Gate
CHAP. II. Of the City of Rome.
ROME, the metropolis of the dominions of the Pope, and anciently the whole Roman empire, derives its name, according to ſome ancient writers, from Roma, a Trojan lady; but according to others, from Romulus, the founder. There are ſome who af⯑firm [230] it was called Roma, before the days of Romulus; and that he only enlarged the city, and it was called after his name; as princes and great men are, to this day, named from the places of their reſidence. Others reject the ſtory of Romulus and Remus, as fa⯑bulous; and indeed nothing ſatisfactory is to be met with on this ſubject, any more than as to the aera of its foundation; ſome writers affirming it was founded in the year of the world 3301, or, 753 years before Chriſt; and others in the year 3198.
This city is ſituated on the river Tyber, about ſix⯑teen miles North-Eaſt of the Tuſcan Sea; in 41 de⯑grees and 45 minutes of North latitude; and thirty-two degrees odd minutes, to the eaſtward of London.
The city of Rome has ſuffered ſo much from the an⯑cient Gauls, Vandals, Heruli, Oſtro and Viſi-Goths, and laſtly from the German troops, eſpecially in the year 1527, under Charles of Bourbon, that, beſides ſmaller damages, it is computed to have been pillaged ſeven times. Others affirm that Rome was plundered twelve times; this, however, is certain, that the ſurface of the ground the city ſtands upon muſt have been al⯑tered, by ſuch frequent ravages. At preſent it is dif⯑ficult to diſtinguiſh the ſeven hills, on which Rome was anciently built; the low grounds having been filled up by the ruins of whole ſtreets; ſo that, ſome⯑times, [231] it is ſcarce obſervable that we are aſcending an eminence, celebrated by the ancients. Antiquity informs us that the aſcent, from the ſtreet into the pantheon, or rotunda, conſiſted of thirteen ſteps; whereas now the whole area about it is on a level with the pavement of that temple. It is very common, by digging deep for the foundation of houſes, &c. to find pillars, ſtatues, and the fragments of ancient buildings; and, in ſome places, parts of the pave⯑ment of the old city have been found to be twenty, or thirty, feet below the preſent ſurface of the ground. It is probable, that this muſt alſo have occaſioned great alteration, with regard to the ſalubrity of the air.
The ſtupendous Cloacoe, or common ſhores and aqueducts, by which the filth and dirt of the ancient city were conveyed into the Cloaca maxima, have, in⯑deed, many openings remaining for the paſſage of the ſoil and water; but moſt of the outlets are ſtopped, and the Cloaca maxima itſelf is in very bad order. This muſt neceſſarily cauſe a putrefaction in the air, which is ſenſibly perceived by thoſe who dig deep into the earth, and happen to light on the aperture of ſuch obſtructed ſink, or ſhore; there being many inſtances of workmen loſing their lives by thoſe pu⯑trid effluviae. The ſame alterations are likewiſe ma⯑nifeſt in the country. Anciently ſeveral parts of Italy, near the ſea, were not only full of fine towns, villas [232] and palaces, but reſorted to, as the moſt healthy places, in time of peſtilence; but now it is quite the reverſe: for the greateſt part of the ſea-coaſt is moiſt and marſhy; and the air ſo bad, that, during the ſum⯑mer-heats, many convents are uninhabited; and the monks remove, for ſome months, to a healthier cli⯑mate. Even in the neighbourhood of Rome the ſoil is but badly cultivated; and, in the night-time, covered with fogs, and igneous vapours. Theſe muſt have been very uncommon in the time of the ancient Ro⯑mans; for Livy frequently mentions ſuch phoenomena as prodigies, and omens, which occaſioned propiti⯑atory ſacrifice and offerings. Sulphur is uſually dug up, like white earth, at Rome, and afterwards purified by ſublimation. Great quantities of vitriol are alſo made here; and the green, found in the copper mines, is particularly called Roman vitriol. Roch allum is alſo prepared within a ſmall diſtance of Rome; and, in ſome places, arſenic is made. Theſe are works which neceſſarily produce very noxious effluvia, from which ancient Rome was free; for theſe minerals were then either unknown, or, at leaſt, not dug up.
It is probable a concurrence of all theſe cauſes may have occaſioned that alteration of weather, which has been obſerved, with regard to the mildneſs of the winters, in this climate. Some paſſages in Homer ſhew, that, in his time, the ſnow often lay very deep [233] in the ſtreets of Rome; and it is plain, from the ſixth ſatyre of Juvenal, that it was far from being unuſual to ſee the Tyber frozen in winter; but, in the preſent age, it muſt be a very ſharp winter, if the ſnow lays in Rome but a day or two; as for the Tyber, it has not been frozen in the memory of any man living.
The river alſo has ſuffered by the alteration of the countries, through which it takes its courſe; its mouth, where it diſembogues itſelf into the ſea, is be⯑come very narrow, and choaked with ſand-banks; and its bed, by the rubbiſh of houſes on its banks, very much contracted; which, in a ſtrong ſouth wind, cauſes inundations, that do great damage, both in the city, and the neighbouring country,
In regard to its preſent extent, and number of in⯑habitants, ſeveral cities may be found, both in Europe and other parts of the world, ſuperior to modern Rome; but if we conſider its ancient power, and its ſovereignty over ſo many powerful nations, for ſuch a ſeries of years, the whole world never produced its equal. The remains of the ancient walls and build⯑ings of the city demonſtrate, that, for its vaſt circum⯑ference, it might juſtly be claſſed among the princi⯑pal cities in the world. According to Pliny the city walls, in Veſpaſian's time, were thirteen thouſand paces, in circumference; and Voſſius, who wrote in Aure⯑lius's [234] time, magnifies them to fifty thouſand. This muſt either be a notorious error in the tranſcriber, or ſuch a circuit muſt have included the ſeats, and gar⯑dens, in the neigbourhood of Rome. What Voſſius, in his Varioe Obſervationes, endeavours to prove, is very weak and abſurd; for he fain would perſuade his readers, that Rome was twenty times as large as Paris and London, put together; that Nero's palace, alone, occupied more ground, than the greateſt of our modern European cities; that the number of ſlaves, in Rome, amounted to eight millions; and the inha⯑bitants, in general, to fourteen millions. Whoever gives credit to theſe bare aſſertions, ſhould not diſ⯑pute with him, when he affirms, the inhabitants of Nanquin, a ſingle city in China, to be above twenty millions. Theſe exaggerations are ſtill far ſhort of Rolefincks, who computes the inhabitants of Rome, in her higheſt proſperity, at twenty-ſeven millions.
Nay, ſuch is the infatuation of Lipſius, to magnify⯑ing the extent of Rome, and the number of its inha⯑bitants, ſays Keyſler, that he does not ſcruple to alter, and falſify, ſuch paſſages, in ancient writers, as make againſt his chimeras; and blindly follows the moſt ab⯑ſurd, and extravagant aſſertions of the Greeks, who were remarkable for their flattery to the Romans. Was ever any thing more ridiculous than what the orator, Ariſtides, ſays of Rome, in Adrian's time? [235] "It is ſo large, ſays this writer, that, in any part of it, a perſon may always, with ſome reaſon, think himſelf in the centre of it; ſo that a whole year is not ſuf⯑ficient to enumerate other cities, that are, as it were, included in this celeſtial city: whole nations, as Capa⯑docians, Scythians, and others, having, in number⯑leſs multitudes, at once ſettled in Rome." This boaſt, however, can relate only to the few quarters, or wards, where ſome individuals, of thoſe nations, uſed chiefly to live. Veſpaſian's amphitheatre was about one hundred and fifty feet in height; yet Ammianus Marcelinus is pleaſed to ſay, that its height is ſcarce diſcernable by human eyes.
Authors, ſays Moore, differ very much in opinion, with reſpect to the number of inhabitants which Rome contained, at the period when it was moſt populous. Some accounts make them ſeven millions, he adds, and others a much greater number. Theſe ſeem all to be incredible exaggerations. It is not probable that what is properly called the city of Rome, ever extended beyond the wall built by Belliſarius, after he had defeat⯑ed the Goths. This wall has been frequently repaired ſince, and is ſtill ſtanding; it is about thirteen or four⯑teen miles in circuit, which is nearly the ſize that Rome was of, in the days of Veſpaſian. Thoſe who aſſert that the number of inhabitants in ancient Rome, when it was moſt populous, could not exceed a million, excluſive [236] of ſlaves, are thought moderate in their calculation; but when we conſider that the circumference, of thirteen or fourteen miles, is not equal to that of either Paris or London; that the Campus Martius, which is the beſt built part of modern Rome, was a field, without a houſe upon it, anciently; and that the riſing ground, where St Peter's church and the vatican ſtand, was no part of old Rome; it will be difficult to conceive that ever Rome could boaſt a million of inhabitants. If the wall of Belliſarius be admitted as the boundary of the ancient city, it is not eaſy to imagine that it could have, at any time, contained above five or ſix hun⯑dred thouſand, without ſuppoſing the maſters of the world to have been the worſt lodged people in it.
But if in the computations above-mentioned the ſuburbs are included; if thoſe who lived without the walls are conſidered as inhabitants; in that caſe, there will be room enough for any number, the limits of the ſuburbs not being aſcertained.
The buildings immediately without the walls of Rome, which were connectedly continued ſo as to merit the name of ſuburbs, were certainly of vaſt ex⯑tent; and, with the inhabitants of the town itſelf, muſt have contained a prodigious number of people. By a calculation, made by Mr. Byres, the Circus Max⯑imus was of ſufficient ſize to accommodate three hun⯑dred [237] and eighty thouſand ſpectators; and, we are told by the Latin poets, that it was uſually full. Now if allowance be made for the ſuperannuated, the ſick, and the infirm; alſo for children, and thoſe employed in their private buſineſs, and for ſlaves who were not permitted to remain in the Circus, during the games; Mr. Byres imagines that ſuch a number could not be ſupplied by a city and ſuburbs, the number of whoſe inhabitants were much under three millions.
Whatever may have been the extent of the ſuburbs of Rome, it is probable, they were only formed of or⯑dinary houſes, and inhabited by people of inferior rank. There are no remains of palaces, or magni⯑ficent buildings of any kind, to be now ſeen near the walls, or, indeed, over the whole Campagna; yet, it it is aſſerted by ſome authors, that this wide ſurface was peopled, at one period, like a continued village; and, we are told of ſtrangers, who, viewing this im⯑menſe plain covered with houſes, imagined they had already entered Rome, when they were thirty miles from the walls of that city.
Though this city is thought now not to contain above one hundred and ſixty, or ſeventy thouſand in⯑habitants; a number greatly inferior to what it con⯑tained in the days of its ancient power; yet this num⯑ber is greater than it has generally been able to boaſt, [238] ſince the fall of the empire. There is good authority for believing, that Rome, at particular periods, ſince that time, ſome of them not very remote, has been reduced to between thirty and forty thouſand inha⯑bitants. The numbers have gradually increaſed, during the whole of this century. As it was much leſs expenſive to purchaſe new ground for building upon, than to clear away ruins, which, by time, had acquired the conſiſtence of rock. Great part of the modern city, is built upon what was the ancient Cam⯑pus Martius.
The river Tyber divides the city, properly ſo called, from the Tranſtevere, or quarter, in which is the church of St. Peter, and the palace of the Vatican. This river is about three hundred and fifteen feet wide, at the bridge of St. Angelo, and is navigable for large barges; the water is yellow and turbid.
Many are of opinion, that, by turning this river out of its channel for a time, vaſt riches and valuable an⯑tiquities thrown into it, at different times, when the city has been ſacked and pillaged; would be found. The water of this river, ſays Keyſler, is ſo thick and foul, that it is not fit for horſes to drink, till it has ſtood two or three days for the filth to ſubſide.
[239]There are now three bridges at Rome: that of St. Angelo, anciently Pons Aelius, leading to the caſtle of St. Angelo, is the principal. All the upper part of it is finiſhed by Bernini, in a good taſte; but the ſtatues on it are heavy and diſagreeable. Ancient Rome had ſix bridges. There are ſome ſmall remains of the Sublician bridge, which was only one, when Horatius Cocles defended it ſo valiantly. It was then of wood, but afterwards built of ſtone by Lepidus.
The ruins of the triumphal bridge, near S. Angelo, is an object that cannot but ſtrike a man of letters. This was the bridge, over which every general march⯑ed into the city, to whom a triumph was decreed, either for the conqueſt of a province, or any other ſignal victory. From the time of Romulus, to that of the emperor Probus, there were about three hundred and twenty of theſe triumphs There are now only a few remains of the piers. Who can behold this ſcene, without ruminating on the nature of the human heart, and recollecting to what trials it muſt have been expoſed, in the courſe of ſo proud, and ſo flat⯑tering a proceſſion?
A traveller, ſays Sharp, on his arrival at Rome, is not much animated by its appearance; the narrowneſs of many of the ſtreets, the thinneſs of inhabitants, the prodigious quantity of monks and beggars, give [240] but a gloomy aſpect to this renowned city. There are no rich tradeſmen in it, who, by their acquiſitions, either ennoble their ſons, or marry their daughters into the houſes of princes. All the ſhops ſeem empty, and the ſhopkeepers poor; not one hackney-coach in ſo large a town; a proof that there is no middle ſtation, between thoſe who always ride, and thoſe who always walk. This is the firſt impreſſion; but let the eye be turned from that point of view to the magnificence of their churches; to the venerable remains of anci⯑ent Rome; to the prodigious collection of pictures, and antique ſtatues; to the very river, and ground it⯑ſelf, formerly the habitation of that people which, from our cradles, we have been taught to admire; and, with a very few grains of enthuſiaſm, he will be more than delighted.
The magnificence of the Roman emperors, in em⯑belliſhing the city, roſe to ſuch a height, that they ranſacked all the quarries of Egypt for alabaſter, gra⯑nite, porphyry, and every kind of marble that coun⯑try afforded; and, though time and Gothic rage muſt have deſtroyed great quantities, yet ſuch was the pro⯑fuſion brought to Rome, that, beſides the infinite num⯑ber of columns, ſtatues, vaſes, and tables ſtill pre⯑ſerved entire; one may ſee the very poſts in the ſtreets, all of them, without exception, made of gra⯑nite, alabaſter, or marble; but the moſt ſtupendous [241] ſight of all, are the monſtrous obeliſks, which conſiſt of only one piece of marble. I meditate on theſe objects, ſays Sharpe, till I am loſt in wonder and con⯑fuſion. We have no idea of the mechanical powers by which they are dug out of the quarry, and brought from Egypt. We are aſtoniſhed at the enormous ſize of the ſtones at Stonehenge, cannot comprehend by what contrivance they were carried, and laid in that form; but the biggeſt of them is ſmall, when com⯑pared to the largeſt obeliſk at Rome.
In the beauty and magnificence of the religious buildings and palaces, ſays Buſching, modern Rome, by far, ſurpaſſes the ancient; having a multitude of ſplendid churches, ſtately palaces, and large houſes. The pariſh churches alone amount to eighty, together with upwards of thirty alms-houſes. Moſt of the houſes are of brick, but thoſe of the better ſort have the doors, windows, and ſupporters, of free-ſtone. Above two-thirds of the houſes are the property of the churches, and convents, to which new pur⯑purchaſes are continually annexed. The ſtreets are well paved, and ſome of them with brick; but nei⯑ther kept clean, nor carefully illuminated.
London ſeems to be the only town, in Europe, where that convenience is rightly underſtood, and carried effectually into execution; for at Paris, the [242] candles, in their brown glaſs lanterns, give but little light whilſt they burn; and, being ſmall, are ſoon ex⯑tinguiſhed. It is aſtoniſhing this evil ſhould not be reformed, as every night's experience ſhews how much darkneſs invites to the perpetration of ſhameful, and atrocious deeds. The cardinals are allowed to take flambeaux behind their coaches; all their princes, and people of quality, are forbidden to uſe any other light than ſmall lanterns; of which every footman, behind the coach, carries one.
Nothing can be more magnificent than the entrance into Rome, by the porta del popolo; the road is fine, the approach beautiful, and the gate handſome. The traveller immediately enters a large area, from the farther ſide of which he ſees the three principal ſtreets of the city, diverging, and flanked by the fronts of two handſome churches. In the middle is a noble Egyptian obeliſk, and a fountain. The numerous gates of the city are by no means handſome, or orna⯑mented. The Flaminean gate, or porta del popolo, is the beſt of them; the outſide by Buonarotti, and that next the city by Bernini.
Some of the principal ſtreets are of conſiderable length, and perfectly ſtraight. That called the Corſo is moſt frequented. It runs from the Porto del popolo, along the ſide of the Campus Martius. Here the no⯑bility [243] diſplay their equipages during the carnival, and take the air in the evenings, in fine weather. It is, in⯑deed, the great ſcene of Roman magnificence and amuſement.
The ſhops, on each ſide, are three or four feet higher than the ſtreet, and there is a path for the con⯑venience of foot-paſſengers, on a level with the ſhop. The palaces, of which there are ſeveral in this ſtreet, range in a line with the houſes, having no court before them, like the hotels of Paris; and are not ſhut up from the ſight of the citizens, by high and gloomy walls, like Devonſhire and Burlington houſes, in Lon⯑don. Such diſmal barricades are more ſuitable to the unſociable character of a proud baron, in the days of ariſtocratic tyranny, than to the hoſpitable and be⯑nevolent diſpoſition of their preſent proprietors.
The corſo commences at the fine area, immediately within the Porto del popolo. This gate is built in a noble ſtile of elegant ſimplicity, from the deſign of Michael Angelo, executed by Bernini.
The ſtrada felice, in the higher part of the city, is about a mile and a half in length, from the Trinita del monte, to the church of St. John Lateran, on the Pincean hill. This ſtreet runs all in one line, the view, only interrupted by the fine church of St. Maria Mag⯑giora. [244] The ſtrada felice is croſſed by another ſtraight ſtreet, called the Strada di Porta Pia, conſiderably above a mile in length, terminated at one end by that gate; and, at the other, by four coloſſal ſtatues, in white marble, of two horſes led by two men; ſup⯑poſed, by ſome, to be repreſentations of Alexander taming Bucephalus; and, according to others, of Caſtor and Pollux. They are placed before the pope's palace, on the Quirinal hill, and have a noble effect.
It would be more difficult to convey an idea of the ſmaller and leſs regular ſtreets. We ſhall, therefore, only obſerve in general, that Rome, at preſent, ex⯑hibits a ſtrange mixture of magnificent and intereſt⯑ing, and of common and beggarly objects; the former conſiſts of palaces, churches, and fountains; and, above all, of the remains of antiquity. The latter comprehends all the reſt of the city.
There are many ſquares in Rome, the principal or⯑naments of which are fountains. That in the Piazza Novana is the moſt magnificent in the whole world. It is a vaſt rock, pierced through and through, ſo as to be divided into four parts, which unite at the top where the obeliſk is placed: towards the bottom, of each part of the rock, is ſeated a coloſſal figure, repre⯑ſenting the principal rivers with their attributes. The fountain of Paul V. is in a very bad ſtyle; but, the [245] water is ſo rapid, as to turn ſeveral mills. It was brought by Auguſtus from the lake of Bracciano, thirty-five miles from Rome, to ſupply his naumachia; and there are now ſome remains of the aqueduct, near the villa Pamſili. The Fontana di Trevi is a noble fountain. This is the only water which now comes to Rome by an ancient aqueduct; it is chiefly under ground, which is the reaſon that it has been ſo much better preſerved than any other. This is alſo the beſt water in Rome; and all the lower parts of the city being furniſhed from the fountain of Trevi, thoſe who prefer good water to good air, live in thoſe parts. It was brought from the Sabina, by Agrippa, to ſup⯑ply the Campus Martius.
Theſe fountains are the remains of the munifi⯑cence and induſtry of the ancient Romans, who were extremely delicate in the article of water: but, great applauſe, however, is alſo due to the different popes, who have been at the expence of reſtoring and re⯑pairing thoſe noble channels of health, pleaſure, and convenience. This great plenty of water, nevertheleſs, has not induced the Romans to be cleanly. Their ſtreets, and even their palaces, are diſgraced with filth. The noble Piazza Novana, though adorned with three or four fountains, one of which, the moſt magnificent, perhaps, that Europe can produce, is, notwithſtanding this proviſion, almoſt as dirty as Weſt [246] Smithfield, where the cattle are ſold in London. The corridors, arcades, and even ſtaircaſes, belonging to their moſt elegant palaces, are depoſitories of naſtineſs; and, indeed, in ſummer, ſmell as ſtrong as ſpirits of hartſhorn. It is highly probable, their anceſtors were not much more cleanly. If we conſider that the cities and ſuburbs of Rome, in the reign of Claudius, con⯑tained about ſeven millions of inhabitants; a number, at leaſt, equal to the ſum total of all the ſouls in Eng⯑land; that great part of ancient Rome was allotted to temples, porticos, baſilicae, theatres, baths, circuſes, public and private walks and gardens; where very few, if any, of this great number lodged; that by far the greater part of theſe inhabitants were ſlaves, and did not enjoy the conveniences of life; and, that the uſe of linen was ſcarce known; we muſt naturally con⯑clude, they were ſtrangely crouded together; and that, in general, they were a very frowzy generation. That they were crouded together, appears from the height of their houſes, which the poet Rutilius compared to towers made for ſcaling heaven. In order to remedy this inconvenience, Auguſtus Caeſar publiſhed a decree, that for the future no houſes ſhould be built above ſeventy feet high; which, at a moderate computation, might make ſix ſtories. But what ſeems, beyond all diſpute, to prove that the ancients were dirty crea⯑tures, are theſe two particulars. Veſpaſian laid a tax upon urine and ordure, on pretence of being at great [247] expence in clearing the ſtreets from ſuch a nuiſance; an impoſition which amounted to about fourteen-pence a year, for each individual; and when Heliogabalus ordered all the cobwebs of the city, and ſuburbs, to be collected, they were found to weigh ten thouſand pounds. This was intended as a demonſtration of the great number of inhabitants; but it was proof of their dirt, rather than of their popularity. To this we may likewiſe add the delicate cuſtom of taking vomits, at each others houſes, when they were invited to dinner, or ſupper, that they might prepare their ſtomach for gormandizing; a beaſtly proof of their naſtineſs, as well as gluttony. Horace, in his deſcription of the banquet of Naſidenus, ſays, that when the canopy, under which they ſat, fell down, it brought along with it as much dirt, as is raiſed by a hard gale of wind in dry weather.
I believe, adds Smollett, the moderns retain more of the cuſtoms of the ancient Romans, than is gene⯑rally imagined. When I firſt ſaw the infants, at the foundling hoſpital in Paris, ſo ſwathed with bandages that the very ſight of them made my eyes water; I little dreamed that the preſcription of the ancients could be pleaded for this cuſtom, equally ſhocking and abſurd; but, in the capital at Rome, I met with the antique ſtatue of a child emailloté, exactly in the ſame manner, rolled up, like an Egyptian mummy, [248] from the feet. The circulation of the blood, in ſuch a caſe, muſt be obſtructed on the whole ſurface of the body, and nothing at liberty but the head; which is the only part that ought to be confined. Is it not ſur⯑priſing that common ſenſe ſhould not point out, even to the moſt ignorant, that theſe bandages muſt heat the tender infant into a fever; muſt hinder the return of the muſcles, and the play of the joints, ſo neceſſary to health and nutrition; and that while the refluent blood is obſtructed in the veins, which run on the ſurface of the body, the arteries, which lie deep, with⯑out the reach of compreſſion, are continually pouring their contents into the head, where the blood meets with no reſiſtance? The veſſels of the brain are natu⯑rally lax, and the very futures of the ſkull are yet open. What are the conſequences of this cruel ſwaddling? The limbs are waſted; the joints grow rickety; the brain is compreſſed, and a hydrocephalus, with a great head, and ſore eyes, enſues. This abo⯑minable cuſtom is, perhaps, one great cauſe of the bandy legs, diminutive bodies, and large heads, ſo frequent in the ſouth of France, and Italy.
I was no leſs ſurprized to find the modern faſhion of curling the hair, borrowed, in a great meaſure, from the coxcombs and coquettes of antiquity. I ſaw a buſt of Nero in the gallery at Florence, the hair repreſented in rows of buckles, like that of a French [249] petit-maitre, conformable to the picture drawn of him by Suetonius. But there is a buſt in the capital of Ju⯑lia Pia, the ſecond wife of Septimus Severus, with a moveable peruke, dreſſed exactly in the faſhionable mode, with this difference, that there is no part of it frizzed; nor is there any appearance of pomatum and powder. Theſe improvements the beau monde have borrowed from the natives of the Cape of Good Hope.
In a part of the city, acroſs the Tyber, dwelt the Tranſtyberini, or Tranſteveri, the deſcendants, as they call themſelves, of the ancient Romans. This people were once called other people of Rome, but intermarry among themſelves. Their features are very different from the reſt of the inhabitants of Rome; and they are as diſtinguiſhable by their common oaths, as by their other cuſtoms. A Tranſtyberinian will ſwear by the head of Bacchus, and the body of Jove, when other inhabitants of Rome will ſwear by the blood of Chriſt, and by the ſeveral ſaints. There is a prince, and ſeveral noblemen, of this fraternity.
Modern Rome does not cover more than one third of the ſpace within the walls; and thoſe parts that were moſt frequented of old, are now entirely aban⯑doned. From the capital to the column there is no⯑thing entire, but one or two churches, built with the [250] fragments of ancient edifices. You deſcend from the capitol between the remaining pillars of two temples, the pedeſtals, and part of the ſhafts, ſunk in the rub⯑biſh; then, paſſing through the triumphal arch of Sep⯑timus Severus, you proceed along the fort of Mons Pa⯑latinus, quite covered with the ruins of the ancient palace, belonging to the Roman emperors; and, at the foot of it, there are ſome beautiful detached pil⯑lars ſtill ſtanding. On the left you ſee the remains of the templum pacis, which ſeems to have been the largeſt, and moſt magnificent, of all the temples in Rome. It was built, and dedicated, by the emperor Veſpaſian; who brought into it all the treaſures, and precious veſſels, which he found in the temple of Jeru⯑ſalem. This temple was likewiſe famous for its li⯑brary, mentioned by Aulus Gellius. Fronting you are the noble ruins of that vaſt amphitheatre, called the Coloſſaeum, which has been diſmantled, and dilapi⯑dated, by the Gothic popes and princes of Modern Rome, to build and adorn their paltry palaces, Be⯑hind the amphitheatre, were with the thermae of the ſame emperor, Titus Veſpaſian. In the ſame quarter was the Circus Maximus; and the whole ſpace from hence, on both ſides, to the walls of Rome, compre⯑hending above twice as much ground as the modern city, is almoſt covered with the monuments of anti⯑quity. The miſerable houſes, and even garden walls, of the peaſants in this diſtrict, are built with the pre⯑cious [251] materials of ſhafts, and capitals of marble co⯑lumns, heads, arms, legs, and mutilated trunks of ſta⯑tues. What pity it is that, among all the remains of antiquity, there is not one of their private dwelling houſes exiſting. I ſhould have been glad, ſays Smollet, to have known how the ſenators of Rome were lodged. I want to be better informed touching the cava oedium, focus, the ara deorum penatum, the conclavia, trilinica, and caenationes; the atria, where the women reſided, and employed themſelves in the woollen manufacture; and the Hyſta, which were ſhady walks, between two porticos, where the men exerciſed themſelves in win⯑ter. I am diſguſted by the modern taſte of architec⯑ture, though I am no judge of the art. The churches, and palaces, of their days, are crouded with petty or⯑naments, which diſtract the eye; and, by breaking into a variety of little parts, deſtroy the effect of the whole. Every door and window has its ſeparate ornaments, its moulding, frize, cornice and tympanum; then there is ſuch an aſſemblage of uſeleſs feſtoons, pillars, pilaſters, with their architraves, entablatures, and I know not what, that nothing great or uniform remains to fill the view; and we in vain look for that ſimpli⯑city of grandeur, thoſe large maſſes of light and ſha⯑dow, and the inexpreſſible tout enſemble, which charac⯑terizes the edifices of the ancients. A great edifice, to have its full effect, ought to be iſolé, that is, de⯑tached from all other, with a large ſpace around it, [252] but the palaces of Rome, and indeed of all the other cities of Italy, are ſo hemmed in, among other mean houſes, that their beauty and magnificence are, in a great meaſure, concealed. Even thoſe which face open ſtreets, and piazzas, are clean only in front. The other apartments are darkened by the vicinity of ordinary houſes; and their views confined by dirty, and diſagreeable objects. Within the court there is generally a noble colonnade, all around, and an open corridor above; but the ſtairs are uſually narrow, ſteep, and high. The want of ſaſh windows, the dullneſs of thin ſmall glaſs lozenges, the dirty brick floors, and the crimſon hangings, laced with gold, contribute to caſt a gloom on their apartments. I might add to theſe cauſes, a number of pictures exe⯑cuted on melancholy ſubjects, antique, mutilated ſta⯑tues, buſts, bas-reliefs, and ſepulchral ſtones, with which their rooms are adorned. It muſt be owned, however, that there are ſome objections to this general rule. The villa of Cardinal Alexander Albani is light, gay, airy; yet the rooms are too ſmall, and too much decorated with carving and gilding, which is a kind of gingerbread work. The apartments of one of the princes Borgheſe are furniſhed in the Engliſh taſte; and, in the palace of the conſtable Colonna, there is a ſaloon, or gallery; which, for the proportions, lights, furniture and ornaments, is the moſt noble, elegant, and agreeable apartment I ever ſaw.
[253]It is diverting, adds Smollett, to hear an Italian ex⯑patiate on the greatneſs of modern Rome. He will tell you there are above three hundred palaces in the city; that there is ſcarce a Roman prince, whoſe re⯑venue does not exceed two hundred thouſand crowns; and that Rome produces, not only the moſt learned men, but alſo the moſt refined politicians, in the uni⯑verſe. To one of them, talking in this ſtrain, I re⯑plied, that inſtead of three hundred palaces, the num⯑ber did not amount to more than fourſcore; that I had been informed, on good authority, there were not ſix individuals in Rome, who had ſo much as forty thouſand crowns a year, about £. 10,000. ſter⯑ling; and that to ſay their princes were ſo rich, and their politicians ſo refined, was, in effect, a ſevere ſa⯑tire upon them, for not employing their wealth, and their talents, for the advantage of their country. I aſked why their cardinals and princes did not invite, and encourage, induſtrious people to ſettle, and cul⯑tivate the campagna of Rome, which is a deſart? Why they did not raiſe a ſubſcription to drain the marſhes, in the vicinity of the city, and thus melio⯑rate the air? Why they did not contribute their wealth, and even their political refinements, in aug⯑menting their forces, by ſea and land; in introducing commerce and manufactures, and in giving ſome con⯑ſequence to their ſtate, which was no more than a mite in the political ſtate of Europe?
[254]The only appearance of a fortification, in this city, is the caſtle of S. Angelo, ſituated on the further bank of the Tyber; but this caſtle, which was formerly the moles Adriani, could not hold out half-a-day, againſt a battery of ten pieces of cannon, properly di⯑rected. It was an expedient leſt to the invention of the modern Romans, to convert an ancient tomb into a citadel. It could only ſerve as a temporary retreat for the Pope, in times of popular commotion, and on other ſudden emergencies; as it happened in the caſe of Pope Clement VII. when the troops of the emperor took the city by aſſault; and this only while he reſided at the Vatican, from whence there is a co⯑vered gallery, continued to the caſtle. The caſtle of S. Angelo, how ridiculous ſoever as a fortreſs, appears reputable as a noble monument of antiquity; and, though ſtanding in a low ſituation, is one of the fineſt objects that ſtrike the eye, for a ſtranger, ap⯑proaching Rome.
CHAP. III. St. Peter's—Pantheon—and Amphitheatre of Veſpaſian.
[255]THE incomparable church of St. Peter is built in the form of a Latin croſs; and the proportion is ſo exactly obſerved in the length, height, and breadth, that the eye cannot perceive any thing ex⯑traordinary large, in any of theſe dimenſions, although the whole, taken together, is of a very uncommon bulk and extent. For largeneſs, and beauty, it may be called the metropolitan church, not only of Rome and Italy, but of the whole world. In this place we ſee to what an amazing pitch the Romiſh church, which is ſo fond of external pomp and ſplendor, has within two centuries carried its favourite ſcheme, viz. that of captivating the ſenſes, and inſpiring the minds of the ignorant with awe, and ſubmiſſion to the clergy. Fontana, in his account of this church, computes that, in his time, it had coſt above eighty millions of Ro⯑man crowns; or, about twenty millions ſterling. In the opinion of many it ſurpaſſes, in ſize and magni⯑ficence, [256] the fineſt monuments of ancient architecture. The Grecian, and Roman temples, were more diſtin⯑guiſhed for the elegance of their form, than their mag⯑nitude. The Pantheon, which was erected to all the gods, is the moſt entire antique temple in Rome. It is ſaid that Michael Angelo, to confirm the triumph of modern, over ancient architecture, made the dome of St. Peter's of the ſame diameter with the pantheon; raiſing the immenſe fabric on four pilaſters; whereas the whole circle of the rotunda reſts upon the ground. This great artiſt was, perhaps, delighted with the idea of being thought as ſuperior to the ancient architects, as he was conſcious of being inferior to ſome of the ſculptors of antiquity.
This church, the moſt wonderful in the world, has a thouſand faults, a thouſand bad things in ſculpture, painting, &c. &c. But I pity the man, ſays Sherlock, who thinks of looking for them; when a fault pre⯑ſents itſelf;, let him advance a ſtep further,—a ſublime beauty expects him.
Theſe ideas ſtruck me while I was walking in this church. I went thither with a Pole, a Frenchman, and an Engliſhman; the Engliſhman looked for beau⯑ties; the Frenchman, for faults; the Pole, for nothing. When we were at the end of the church, "Behold," ſays the Frenchman, "that Charity of Bernini, how [257] wretched it is! the air of her head is affected, her fleſh is without bone, and ſhe makes frightful faces." "Theſe remarks appear to me juſt enough," replies the Engliſhman, "but look on the other ſide of the altar, you will ſee one of the fineſt pieces of modern ſculpture; the juſtice of Guglielmo della porta." "You are in the right," ſays the Frenchman, (without look⯑ing at it), "but that child at the foot of the Charity, diſguſts me more than its mother." While the Engliſh⯑man continued to praiſe the Juſtice, and the French⯑man to criticiſe the Charity; the Pole looked at the door by which we entered, and ſaid to me, that "the church was much longer than he imagined."
All who have ſeen St. Paul's in London, may, by an enlargement of its dimenſions, form ſome idea of the external appearance of St. Peter's. But the re⯑ſemblance fails entirely, on comparing them within; St. Peter's being lined, in many parts, with the moſt precious and beautiful marble, adorned with valuable pictures, and all the powers of ſculpture.
The approach to St. Peter's church, excells that to St. Paul's in a ſtill greater proportion, than the former ſurpaſſes the latter, either in ſize, or in the richneſs and beauty of the internal ornaments. A magnificent portico advances on each ſide from the front, by which means a ſquare court is formed immediately before [258] the ſteps which lead into the church. The two por⯑ticos form two ſides of the ſquare, the third is cloſed by the front of the church, and the fourth is open. A colonnade, four columns deep, commences at the extremities of the porticos; and, embracing in an oval direction, a ſpace far wider than the ſquare, forms the moſt magnificent area, that perhaps was ſeen before any building. This oval colonnade is crowned with a baluſtrade, ornamented by a great number of ſta⯑tues, and conſiſts of above three hundred large pillars, forming three ſeparate walks, which lead to the ad⯑vanced portico, and from that into the church. In the middle of the immenſe area, ſtands an Egyptian obeliſk of granite; and, to the right and left of this, two very beautiful fountains refreſh the atmoſphere with ſtreams of clear water. The delighted eye glanc⯑ing over theſe ſplendid objects, would reſt with com⯑plete ſatisfaction on the ſtupendous fabric, to which they ſerve as embelliſhments, if the facade of this ce⯑lebrated church, had been equal in beauty and ele⯑gance to the reſt of the building. But this is by no means the caſe; and every impartial judge muſt ac⯑knowledge, that the front of St. Peter's, is, in thoſe particulars, inferior to that of our St. Paul's.
The length of St. Peter's, taken on the outſide, is exactly ſeven hundred and thirty feet; the breadth, five hundred and twenty; and the height, from the [259] pavement to the top of the croſs, which crowns the cupola, four hundred and fifty. The grand portico, before the entrance, is two hundred and ſixteen feet in length, and forty in breadth.
It is uſual to deſire ſtrangers, on their firſt entering this church, to gueſs at the ſize of the objects, which, on account of the diſtance, ſeems leſs than they are in reality. The ſtatues of the angels in particular, which ſupport the founts of holy water, when viewed from the door, ſeem no bigger than children; but, when approached near, they are found to be ſix feet high. We make no miſtakes, on ſeeing a living man at the ſame diſtance, or at a greater; becauſe the know⯑ledge we have of man's real ſize precludes the poſſibi⯑lity of our being miſtaken, and we make allowance for the diminution which diſtance occaſions; but, angels, and other figures in ſculpture, having no de⯑termined ſtandard, but being under the arbitrary will of the ſtatuary, who gives them the bulk of giants, or dwarfs, as beſt ſuits his purpoſe; we do not know what allowance to make; and the eye un-uſed to ſuch large maſſes, is confounded, and incapacitated from form⯑ing a right judgment of an object ſix feet high, or any other dimenſions with which it is not previouſly ac⯑quainted.
[260]It has been frequently remarked, that the propor⯑tions of this church are ſo fine, and the ſymmetry of its different parts ſo exquiſite, that the whole ſeems conſiderably ſmaller than it really is. It was, how⯑ever, certainly intended to appear a great and ſublime object, and to produce admiration from the vaſtneſs of its dimenſions. It ſhould ſeem therefore, that any thing which has a tendency to defeat this effect, can⯑not, with propriety, be called an excellence.
Having noticed St. Peter's church, unqueſtionably the fineſt piece of modern architecture in Rome, we will mention ſome of the beſt ſpecimens of the ancient. And firſt, the Pantheon; which, though not the largeſt of the Roman temples, is the moſt perfect which now remains. The temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and the temple of Peace, if we may truſt to the accounts we have of the firſt, and to the ruins of the ſecond, were both much larger than the Pantheon. In ſpite of the depredations which this laſt has ſuſtained from Goths, Vandals, and Popes, it ſtill remains a beautiful monu⯑ment of Roman taſte. The pavilion of the great altar, which ſtands under the cupola of St. Peter's, and the four wreathed pillars of Corinthian braſs which ſup⯑port it, were formed out of the ſpoils of the Pan⯑theon; which, after all, and with the weight of eight hundred years upon its head, has ſtill a probability of outliving its proud rapacious rival. From the round [261] form of this temple, it has obtained the name of Ro⯑tunda. Its height is a hundred and fifty feet, and its diameter nearly the ſame. Within, it is divided into eight parts; the gate at which you enter forming one; the other ſeven compartments, if they may be ſo called, are each of them diſtinguiſhed by two fluted Corin⯑thian pillars, and as many pilaſtres of Giallo Antico. The capitals and baſes are of white marble; theſe ſup⯑port a circular entablature. The wall is perpendicu⯑lar for half the height of the temple; it then ſlopes for⯑ward as it aſcends, the circumference gradually di⯑miniſhing, till it terminates in an opening of about five and twenty feet in diameter. There are no win⯑dows; the central opening in the vault admitting a ſufficiency of light, has a much finer effect than win⯑dows could have had. No great inconvenience can happen from this opening. The conical form of the temple prevents the rain from falling near the walls, where the altars now are, and where the ſtatues of the gods were formerly placed. The rain which falls in the middle, immediately drills through holes, which perforate a large piece of porphyry, that forms the centre of the pavements; the whole of which conſiſts of various pieces of marble, agate, and other mate⯑rials, which have been picked up from the ruins, and now compoſe a kind of Moſaic work.
[262]The portico was added by Marcus Agrippa, the ſon-in-law of Auguſtus. It is ſupported by ſixteen pillows of granite, five feet in diameter, and of a ſingle piece each. Upon the frieze in the front is an in⯑ſcription in large capitals, ſignifying that it was founded by Marcus Agrippa, the ſon of Lucius, during his third conſulſhip. Some are of opinion, that the Pan⯑theon is much more ancient than the Auguſtan age; and that the porticos, which is the only part thoſe anti⯑quarians admit to be the work of Agrippa, though beautiful in itſelf, does not correſpond with the ſim⯑plicity of the temple.
As the Pantheon is the moſt entire, the amphitheatre of Veſpaſian is the moſt ſtupendous, monument of an⯑tiquity in Rome. It was finiſhed by his ſon Titus, and obtained the name of Coloſſeum, afterwards cor⯑rupted into Coliſeum, from a coloſſal ſtatue of Apollo, which was placed before it. This vaſt ſtructure was built of Tiburtine ſtone, which is remarkably durable. Had the public buildings, of the ancient Romans, met with no more inveterate enemy than Time, we might, at this day, contemplate the greater number in all their original perfection; they were formed for the admiration of much later ages than the preſent. This amphitheatre, in particular, might have ſtood entire for two thouſand years to come: for what are the ſlow corroſions of time, in compariſon with the [263] rapid deſtruction from barbarians, the zeal of bigots, and the avarice of popes and cardinals? The firſt de⯑predation, made on this ſtupendous building, was by the inhabitants of Rome themſelves; at that time greater Goths than their conquerors. We are told they applied to Theodoric, whoſe court was then at Ravenna, for liberty to take the ſtone of this amphi⯑theatre, for ſome public work they were carrying on. The marble cornices, the frieze, and other ornaments of this building, have been carried away, at various times, to adorn palaces; and the ſtones have been taken to build churches; and, ſometimes, to repair the walls of Rome, the moſt uſeleſs work of all. For of what importance are walls to a city, without a gar⯑riſon? About one half of the external circuit ſtill remains; from which, and the ruins of the other parts, a pretty exact idea may be formed of the origi⯑nal ſtructure. By a computation made by Mr. Byres it could contain eighty five thouſand ſpectators, making a convenient allowance for each. Fourteen chapels are now erected within. This expedient has ſaved ſome of the fineſt remains of heathen mag⯑nificence, from utter deſtruction.
Our admiration of the Romans is tempered with horror, when we reflect on the uſe formerly made of this immenſe building, and the dreadful ſcenes which were acted in the arena; when not only criminals [264] condemned to death, but alſo priſoners taken in war, were obliged to butcher each other, for the entertain⯑ment of an inhuman populace. The combats of gla⯑diators were at firſt uſed at Rome, at funerals only; where priſoners were obliged to aſſume that profeſſion, and fight before the tombs of deceaſed generals, or magiſtrates, in imitation of the barbarous cuſtom of the Greeks, of ſacrificing captives at the tombs of their heroes.
This horrid magnificence, which at firſt was ex⯑hibited only on the death of conſuls, and men of the higheſt diſtinction, came, gradually, to be claimed by every citizen, who was ſufficiently rich to defray the expence; and as the people's fondneſs, for theſe com⯑bats, encreaſed every day, they were no longer con⯑fined to funeral ſolemnities; but became cuſtomary on days of public rejoicings, and were exhibited, at an amazing expence, by ſome generals, after victories. In the progreſs of riches, luxury and vice, it became a profeſſion in Rome to deal in gladiators. Men, called Laniſtee, made it their buſineſs to purchaſe pri⯑ſoners, and ſlaves; to have them inſtructed in the uſe of the various weapons; and, when any Roman choſe to amuſe the people with their favourite ſhow, or to entertain a ſelect company of his own friends, upon any particular occaſion, he applied to the Laniſtee; who, for a ſmall price, furniſhed him with as many [265] pair of theſe unhappy combatants, as he required. They had various names given to them, according to the different manner in which they were armed. To⯑wards the end of the republic, ſome of the rich, and powerful citizens, had great numbers of gladiators of their own, who were daily exerciſed by the Laniſtee; and always kept ready for fighting, when ordered by their proprietor. Thoſe who were often victorious, or had the good fortune to pleaſe their maſters, had their liberty granted them; on which they generally quitted the profeſſion; though it ſometimes happened that thoſe who were remarkably ſkilful, continued it, either from vanity, or poverty, even after they had obtained their freedom; and the applauſe, beſtowed on thoſe gladiators, had the effect of inducing men, born free, to chuſe this for a profeſſion, which they exerciſed for money, till age impaired their ſtrength, and addreſs. They then hung up their arms in the temple of Hercules, and appeared no more on the arena.
There were many amphitheatres at Rome, as well as in other towns of Italy, and in many provinces of the empire; but this of Veſpaſian was the largeſt that ever was built. That of Verma is the next in ſize, in Italy; and the remains of the amphitheatre at Niſmes prove, that it was the moſt magnificent ſtructure, of this kind, in any of the Roman provinces. The [266] Romans were ſo exceſſively fond of theſe exhibitions, that where colonies were eſtabliſhed, it was found ne⯑ceſſary to give public ſhews of this kind, to induce the emigrants to remain in their new country; and, in the provinces in which it was thought neceſſary, that a conſiderable body of troops ſhould remain con⯑ſtantly; ſtructures of this kind were erected at vaſt la⯑bour and expence, and were found the beſt means of inducing the young officers to ſubmit chearfully, to a long abſence from the capital, and preventing the common ſoldiers from deſertion. The profuſion of human blood, which was ſhed in the arena, by the cruel prodigality of the emperors, and the refinements which were invented, to augment the barbarous plea⯑ſure of the ſpectators, are proofs of the dreadful cor⯑ruption and depravity, to which human nature is ca⯑pable of attaining, even among a learned and en⯑lightened people, when unreſtrained by the mild pre⯑cepts of a benevolent religion. We are told that the gladiators bred for the uſe of particular patricians, as well as thoſe kept for hire by the Laniſtee, were, for ſome weeks, before they appeared in the arena, fed upon ſuch ſucculent diet, as would ſooneſt fill their veins, that they might bleed freely at every wound. They were inſtructed by the Laniſtee, not only in the art of fighting, but alſo in the moſt graceful manner of dying; and, when theſe wretched men felt them⯑ſelves mortally wounded, they aſſumed ſuch attitudes, [267] as they knew pleaſed the beholders; and, they ſeemed to receive pleaſure themſelves, from the applauſe beſtowed upon them in their laſt moments.
When a gladiator was thrown by his antagoniſt to the ground, and directly laid down his arms, it was a ſign that he could reſiſt no longer, and declared him⯑ſelf vanquiſhed, but ſtill his life depended on the ſpec⯑tators. If they were pleaſed with his performance, or in a merciful diſpoſition, they held up their hands, with the thumb folded down, and the life of the man was ſpared; but, if they were in the humour to ſee him die, they held up the hand clenched, with thumb only erect. As ſoon as the proſtrate victim beheld that fatal ſignal, he knew all hopes of life were vain, and immediately preſented his breaſt to the ſword of his adverſary; who, whatever his own inclinations might be, was obliged to put him to death inſtantly.
As theſe combats formed the ſupreme pleaſure of the inhabitants of Rome, the moſt cruel of their em⯑perors were ſometimes the moſt popular; merely, becauſe they gratified the people, without reſtraint, in their favourite amuſement. When Marcus Aurelius thought it neceſſary, for the public ſervice, to recruit his army from the gladiators of Rome; it raiſed more diſcontent among the populace, than many of the wildeſt pranks of Caligula. In the times of ſome of [268] the Roman emperors, the lower claſs of Roman citi⯑zens were certainly as worthleſs a ſet of men as ever exiſted; ſtained with all the vices which ariſe from idleneſs and dependance; living upon the largeſſes of the great; paſſing their whole time in the circus and amphitheatres, where every ſentiment of humanity was annihilated within their breaſts, and where the agonies and torments of their fellow-creatures were their chief paſtime. That no occaſion might be loſt, of indulging this ſavage taſte of the populace, criminals were condemned to ſight with wild beaſts, in the arena, or were expoſed, unarmed, to be torn in pieces by them; and other times they were blindfolded; and, in that condition, obliged to cut and ſlaughter each other. So that, inſtead of victims ſolemnly ſacrificed to pub⯑lic juſtice, they ſeemed to be brought in as buffoons, to raiſe the mirth of the ſpectators.
Whilſt we expreſs horror and indignation at the fondneſs, which the Romans diſplayed for the com⯑bats of the amphitheatres, let us reflect whether this proceeded from any cruelty of diſpoſition, inherent in that people, or belongs to mankind in general; let us reflect, whether it is probable, that the people of any other nation would be gradually led, by the ſame degrees, to an equal paſſion for ſuch horrid entertain⯑ments: let us conſider whether there is reaſon to ſuſpect that thoſe who arm cocks with ſteel, and take [269] pleaſure in beholding the ſpirited little animals cut one another to death, would not take the ſame, or ſu⯑perior delight, in obliging men to ſlaughter each other, if they had the power. It is not long ſince that box⯑ing, cudgelling, and fighting with the broad ſword, was introduced into London; and prize-fighters were found, who would cut and flaſh each other for the amuſement of the ſpectators. And what reſtrains the continuance, but benevolent laws? Is there no reaſon to believe, that the influence of a purer religion, and brighter example, than were known to the heathen world, prevents mankind from thoſe enormities, at this time, which were countenanced formerly? As ſoon as the benevolent principles of chriſtianity were received by the Romans, as the laws of the Deity, the priſoners, and the ſlaves, were treated with huma⯑nity; and the bloody exhibitions in the amphitheatre were aboliſhed.
CHAP. IV. Forum Romanum—Triumphal Arches—Tarpeian Rock. Trajan's Pillar, and other Remains of Antiquity.
[270]FROM the back view of the capitol is beheld the Forum Romanum, now exhibiting a melancholy, but intereſting view of the devaſtation wrought by the united force of time, avarice and bigotry. The firſt objects which meet the eye, on this ſide of the hill, are three fine pillars, two-thirds of them buried in the ruins of the old capitol. They are ſaid to be the re⯑mains of the temple of Jupiter Tonans, built by Au⯑guſtus, in gratitude for having eſcaped death, from a ſtroke of lightning. Near theſe are the remains of Jupiter Stator; conſiſting of three very elegant ſmall Corinthian pillars, with their entablature; the temple of Concord, where Cicero aſſembled the ſenate, on the diſcovery of Cataline's conſpiracy; the temple of Ro⯑mulus and Remus, and that of Antoninus and Fauſtina, juſt by it, both converted into modern churches; the [271] ruins of the magnificent temple of Peace, built im⯑mediately after the taking of Jeruſalem, the Roman empire being then in profound peace. This is ſaid to have been the fineſt temple in Old Rome; part of the materials of Nero's golden horſe, which Veſpaſian pulled down, were uſed in erecting this grand edifice. The only entire pillar remaining, of this temple, was placed, by Paul V. before the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. It is a moſt beautiful fluted Corinthian column, and gives a very high idea of the temple, to which it originally belonged. His holineſs has crowned it with an image of the Virgin Mary; and, in the inſcription on the pedeſtal, he gives his reaſon for chooſing a column belonging to the temple of Peace, as an ornament to a church dedicated to the virgin.
Of many triumphal arches, which formerly ſtood in Rome, there are only three now remaining, all near the capitol, and forming entrances to the Forum; thoſe of Titus, Septimus Severus, and Conſtantine. The laſt is by much the fineſt of the three; but its chief beauties are not genuine; nor, properly ſpeak⯑ing, its own; they conſiſt of ſome admirable bas-reliefs, [272] ſtolen from the Forum of Trajan, and repre⯑ſenting that emperor's victories over the Dacians. This theft might, perhaps, not have been ſo notorious to poſterity, if the artiſts of Conſtantine's time had not added ſome figures which make the fraud apparent; and, by their great inferiority, evince the degeneracy of the art, in the interval between the reign of theſe two emperors.
The bas-reliefs of the arch of Titus repreſent the table of ſhew-bread, the trumpets, the golden candle-ſticks, with ſeven branches, and other utenſils brought from the temple of Jeruſalem. The quarter which is allotted for the Jews is not at a great diſtance from this arch. There are about nine thouſand of that un⯑fortunate nation at preſent in Rome; the lineal de⯑ſcendants of thoſe brought captive, by Titus, from Jeruſalem. A ſtriking inſtance of ſenſibility in this people is, that they ever cautiouſly avoid paſſing through this arch, though it is directly in their way to the Campo Vaccino, chuſing rather to make a cir⯑cuit, and enter the forum at another place.
There are many other intereſting ruins in and about the Campo Vaccino, but of ſome ſtructures which we know formerly ſtood here, no veſtige is now to be ſeen. This is the caſe with the arch which was erected in honour of the Fabian family. There is the ſtrongeſt [273] reaſon to believe, that the ancient forum was en⯑tirely ſurrounded with temples; baſilicae, and public buildings of various kinds, and adorned with por⯑ticos and colonades. In the time of the republic aſ⯑ſemblies of the people were held there, laws pro⯑poſed, and juſtice adminiſtered. In it was the roſ⯑trum from whence the orators harangued the people. All, who aſpired at dignities, came hither to canvaſs ſuffrages. The bankers had their office near the forum, as well as thoſe who received the revenues of the commonwealth; and all kind of buſineſs was tranſacted in this place.
The Tarpeian rock is a continuation of that on which the capitol was built; I went to that part, ſays Moore, from which criminals condemned to death were thrown. M. Byres has meaſured the height; it is exactly fifty-eight feet perpendicular; and, he thinks the ground at the bottom, from evident marks, is twenty feet higher than it was originally; ſo that, before, this accumulation of rubbiſh, the precipice muſt have been eighty feet perpendicular. In reading the hiſtory of the Romans, the vaſt idea we form of that people naturally extends to the city of Rome; the hills on which it was built, and every thing belong⯑ing to it. We imagine the Tarpeian rock as a tre⯑mendous precipice; and, if afterwards we ever have an opportunity of actually ſeeing it, the height falls ſo [274] ſhort of our expectations, that we are apt to believe it a great deal leſs than it is in reality. A miſtake of this kind, ſays Moore, has led biſhop Burnet into the ſtrange aſſertion, that the Tarpeian rock is ſo very low, that a man would think it no great matter to leap down it for his diverſion. Criminals, thrown from this precipice, were literally thrown out of the city of old Rome, into the Campus Martius, which was a large plain, of a triangular ſhape; two ſides of the triangle being formed by the Tyber, and the baſe by the capitol, and by buildings extending three miles nearly in a parallel line with it. The Campus Mar⯑tius had its name from a ſmall temple, built in it, at a very early period and dedicated to Mars; or it might have this name from the military exerciſes performed there. In this field, the great aſſemblies of the peo⯑ple, called cenſus, or luſtrum, were held every fifth year; the conſuls, cenſors, and tribunes were elected; the levies of troops were made; and there the Roman youth exerciſed themſelves in riding, driving the cha⯑riot, ſhooting with the bow, uſing the ſling, darting the javelin, throwing the diſcus or quoit, in wreſtling or running; and, when covered with ſweat and duſt, in conſequence of theſe exerciſes, they waſhed their bodies clean by ſwimming in the Tiber.
The dead bodies, of the moſt illuſtrious citizens, were alſo burnt in this field, which was adorned gra⯑dually [275] by ſtatues and trophies, erected to the memory of diſtinguiſhed men. But every feature of its an⯑cient appearance is now hid, by the ſtreets and build⯑ings of modern Rome.
The inhabitants of modern Rome may be excuſed in chuſing this ſituation for their houſes; though, by ſo doing, they have deprived us of a view of the Campus Martius. But, ſurely they ought to ſhew more ſoli⯑citude for preſerving the antiquities than they do; and they might, without inconvenience, find ſome place for a cow-market, of leſs importance than the ancient Forum. It is not in their power to reſtore it to its former ſplendor; but they might, at leaſt, have prevented its falling back to the ſtate in which Aeneas found it, when he went to viſit the poor Evander.
As Rome increaſed in ſize, and number of inha⯑bitants, one Forum was found too ſmall, and many others were erected in proceſs of time; but, when we, ſpeak of the Forum, without any diſtinguiſhing epithet, the ancient one is underſtood. In theſe Baſilicae were built, juſtice adminiſtered, and buſineſs likewiſe tranſ⯑acted. The emperors were fond of having ſuch places named after them. The accounts we have of the Forums of Nerva, and that of Trajan, give the higheſt idea of their grandeur and elegance; three Corin⯑thian pillars, with their entablature, are all that re⯑main [276] of the former; of the latter, the noble column, placed in the middle, ſtill preſerves all its original beauty. It conſiſts of twenty-three circular pieces of white marble, horizontally placed one above the other; it is about twelve feet diameter at the bottom, and ten at the top. The plinth of the baſe is a piece of marble twenty-one feet ſquare. A ſtaircaſe, con⯑ſiſting of one hundred and eighty-three ſteps, and ſuf⯑ficiently wide to admit a perſon to aſcend, is cut out of the ſolid marble, leaving a ſmall pillar in the middle, round which the ſtairs wind, from the bottom to the top. The ſtairs are lighted by forty-one windows, exceedingly narrow on the outſide, that they might not interrupt the connection of the bas-reliefs, but which gradually widen within, and by that means give ſufficient light. The moſt remarkable events of Tra⯑jan's expedition againſt the Dacians, are admirably wrought in a continued ſpiral line, from the bottom of the column to the top. The figures, towards the top, are too far removed from the eye to be ſeen perfectly. Viewed from any conſiderable diſtance, all the ſculp⯑ture is loſt; and a plain fluted pillar, of the ſame pro⯑portions, would have had as fine an effect. But ſuch a frugal plan would not have been ſo glorious to the prince, whoſe victories are engraven; or ſo intereſt⯑ing to the legionary ſoldiers, many of whom, no doubt, are here perſonally repreſented.
[277]Excluſive of the ſtatue, this beautiful pillar is one hundred and twenty feet high. The aſhes of Trajan were depoſited in an urn at the bottom, and his ſtatue at the top. Pope Sixtus V. in the room of Trajan, has placed a ſtatue of St. Peter upon this column. I ob⯑ſerved, ſays Moore, to a gentleman with whom I viſited this pillar, that there did not ſeem to be much pro⯑priety in placing the figure of St. Peter upon a mo⯑nument repreſenting the victories, and erected in honour of the emperor Trajan. "There is ſome pro⯑priety, however," replied he, "in having made the ſtatue of braſs."
Amongſt other ruins, of this once imperial miſtreſs of the world, Caracalla's baths are in high eſtimation, with all the lovers of antiquity. They appear to oc⯑cupy as much ground as a moderate ſized town; and, not only afforded conveniences for near three thouſand perſons to bathe at one time, without being ſeen by each other, together with ſquares and courts for all kinds of ſports and other public ſpectacles; but even ſcience found a place in the circumference of theſe baths. There were porticos for philoſophers to aſ⯑ſemble in. The whole adorned with a profuſion of ſtatues, and the moſt precious ornaments luxury could find or invent. What, alas remains! Nothing but broken walls and naked bricks; yet, even theſe laſt ate fine in their way, as none can be formed at this [278] day of ſo large a ſize; they are alſo of an extraor⯑dinary texture and colour. The pipes, which con⯑veyed the water to a prodigious height into the upper apartments, are made of as fine clay as the old red china, and equally ſmooth. One part of this immenſe building remains ſufficiently entire, to ſtrike awe into the ſpectator; it conſiſts of a prodigious dome, which has no ſupport but from the wall, whence it ſprings; and, like an unfiniſhed rainbow, ſeems ſuſpended in the air. Cloſe to theſe baths, ſtood Caracalla's mag⯑nificent palace; but of this there is not the leaſt veſtige remaining.
Diocleſian's baths were twelve hundred feet ſquare, and yet not ſo large as thoſe of Caracalla. They oc⯑cupied all the gardens of the Carthuſian convent, the public granaries, the great ſquare before them, and the church of St. Bernardo, which is circular and antique. A great part of theſe thermae is converted into a church. The remains of thoſe of Titus are immenſe vaults, and corridors under ground, painted with arabeſques; from which it is ſaid, Raphael took the idea of his paintings, in the loggie of the va⯑tican.
The therma Diocleſianoe, ſays Smollett, might be termed an auguſt academy, for the uſe and inſtruction of the Roman people. The Pinacotheca, of this build⯑ing, [279] was a complete muſeum of all the curioſities of art and nature; and there were public ſchools for all the ſciences. They were adorned with all the charms of painting, ſculpture, and architecture. The pipes for conveying the water were of ſilver. Many of the lavaera were of precious marble, illuminated by lamps of chryſtal. Among the ſtatues were found, the famous Toro and Hercules Farneſe.
Bathing was certainly neceſſary to health and clean⯑lineſs, in a hot country like Italy, eſpecially before the uſe of linen was known; but theſe purpoſes would have been much better anſwered by plunging into the Tyber, than by uſing the warm bath in the thermae, which became altogether a point of luxury, borrowed from the effeminate Aſiatics, and tended to debilitate the fibres, already too much relaxed by the heat of the climate. True it is, they had baths of cold water for the ſummer; but, in general, they uſed them milk-warm, and often perfumed: they likewiſe indulged in vapour baths, in order to enjoy a pleaſing relaxation, which they improved with odoriferous ointments. Of theſe baths ſome were mercenary, and ſome opened gratis. When Marcus Agrippa was Aedile, he opened one hundred and twenty private baths, for the uſe of the people. In the public baths, where money was taken, each perſon paid a quadrans, about the value of our halfpenny. But after the hour of bathing was [280] paſt, centumque petuntur quadrantes, ſays Martial, a hun⯑dred quadrans were demanded.
Though there was no diſtinction in the places, be⯑tween the firſt patrician, and the loweſt plebeian, yet the nobility uſed their ſilver and gold plate for waſh⯑ing, eating, and drinking in the baths, together with towels of the fineſt linen. They likewiſe made uſe of the inſtrument called ſtrigil, a kind of fleſh-bruſh.
The circi and naumachia, if conſidered as buildings and artificial baſons, are admirable; but, if examined as arcae, intended for horſe and chariot races, and arti⯑ficial ſeas for exhibiting naval engagements, they ſeem to prove, that the ancient Romans were but indiffe⯑rently ſkilled and exerciſed, either in horſemanſhip, or naval engagements. The incloſure of the emperor Caracalla's circus is ſtill ſtanding, and ſcarce affords breathing room for an Engliſh hunter. The Circus Maximus, by far the largeſt in Rome, was not ſo long as the Mall; and St. James's park would make a much more ample and convenient ſcene for thoſe diverſions, This circus was but three hundred yards in breadth, and a great part of it was taken up by ſpina, or middle ſpace, adorned with temples, and two great obeliſks; as well as by the canal made by the order of Julius Caeſar, to contain crocodiles, and other aqua⯑tic animals, which were killed occaſionally. This [281] canal was ſo large, that Heliogabalus, having filled it with excellent wine, exhibited naval engagements in it for the amuſement of the people. It ſurrounded three ſides of the ſquare, ſo that the whole extent of the race did not much exceed an Engliſh mile; and, when Probus was at the expence of filling the plain of it with fir-trees, to form a wood, for the chace of wild beaſts, this foreſt was ſcarce more extenſive than the plantation in St. James's park, on the South ſide of the canals.
The Roman emperors ſeemed more diſpoſed to ele⯑vate and ſurpriſe, than to conduct the public diver⯑ſions, according to the rules of reaſon and propriety. One would imagine it was with that view, they inſti⯑tuted their naumachia, or naval engagements, per⯑formed by half a dozen ſmall gallies of a ſide, in an artificial baſon of freſh water. Theſe gallies were not ſo large as fiſhing ſmacks, for they were moved by two, three, and four oars on a ſide, according to their different rates, biremes, triremes, and quadriremes. Some antiquarians, indeed, believe the Roman gallies had different tires, or decks of oars; but this notion is quite contrary to all the figures of them, preſerved on ancient coins and medals. Suetonius, in the reign of Domitian, ſpeaks of this emperor giving a mock ſea-engagement, in a lake formed on purpoſe, in the Tyber; the veſſels of which were nearly large enough [282] for actual ſervice. Yet, this artificial lake was not larger than the piece of water in Hyde-park. How would it ſound in the ears of a Britiſh ſailor, that a mock engagement, between two ſquadrons of men of war, would be exhibited on ſuch a day, on the Serpen⯑tine river! Or that the ſhips of the line, taken from the enemy, would be carried in proceſſion, from Hyde⯑park corner to Tower wharf. Certain it is, that Lu⯑callus, in one of his triumphs, had one hundred and ten ſhips of war carried through the ſtreets of Rome. Nothing can give a more contemptible idea of their naval power, than this teſtimony of their hiſtorians, that their ſeamen were formed by exerciſing ſmall row-boats, in an encloſed pool of freſh water. Half-a-dozen Engliſh frigates, one may venture to affirm, would have been able to defeat both the contending fleets at the battle of Actium, which has been ſo much celebrated in the annals of antiquity, as an event that decided the fate of empire.
The common ſewers were firſt made by order of Tarquinius Priſcus, not ſo much with a view to clean⯑lineſs, as for ſubterranean drains to the Vilabrum, which was marſhy; and, in order to carry off the ſtagnant water, which remained in the lower parts, after heavy rains. The different branches of their channels united at the Forum, from whence by the Cloaca maxima, their contents were conveyed into the [267] Tyber. This great cloaca, was the work of Tarquinius Superbus. Other ſewers were added by M. Cato, and V. Flaccus, cenſors. All theſe drains, having been choaked up and become ruinous, were cleared and reſtored by M. Agrippa, who likewiſe undermined the whole city with canals of the ſame kind, for carrying off the filth; he ſtrengthened and enlarged the cloaca maxima, ſo as to make it capable of receiving a large cart loaded with hay, and directed ſeven ſtreams of water into theſe ſubterraneous paſſages, in order to keep them always clean and open. If, notwithſtand⯑ing all their conveniences, Veſpaſian was put to great expences in removing the ordure from the public ſtreets; we may fairly conclude, that the ancient Romans were not more cleanly than the modern Italians.
Thoſe who have real pleaſure in contemplating the remains of antique, and the nobleſt ſpecimens of modern, architecture, and who have an unwearied ad⯑miration of the charms of painting, may employ a full year with ſatisfaction in this city.
What is called a regular courſe with an antiquarian, generally takes up about ſix weeks; employing three hours a day; in that time, every thing worth ſeeing, in or near Rome, may be viſited. But, after having [284] made this courſe, ſays Moore, however diſtinctly every thing may have been explained by the antiquarian, if the traveller does not viſit the moſt intereſting again and again, and reflect on them at more leiſure, his la⯑bour will be of little uſe; for the objects are ſo va⯑rious, and thoſe ſeen one day, ſo apt to be effaced or confounded with, thoſe beheld on another, that he muſt carry away a very faint and indiſtinct recollec⯑tion of any. Many travellers have experienced the truth of this obſervation.
One young gentleman, ſays Moore, who happened not to be violently ſmitten with the charms of virtù, and ſcorned to affect what he did not feel, thought that two or three hours a day, were rather too much time to beſtow on a purſuit in which he felt no plea⯑ſure, and ſaw little utility. The only advantage which, in his opinion, the greateſt part of us reaped from our ſix weeks tour, was, that we could ſay we had ſeen a great many fine things, which he had not ſeen. This was a ſuperiority he could not brook, and which he reſolved we ſhould not long enjoy. Being fully con⯑vinced the buſineſs might, with a little exertion, be diſpatched in a ſhort ſpace of time, he prevailed on a proper perſon to attend him; ordered a poſt chaiſe and four horſes to be ready early in the morning; and, driving through churches, palaces, villas, and ruins, with all poſſible expedition, he fairly ſaw in [285] two days, all that we had beheld during our crawling courſe of ſix weeks. I found afterwards, by the liſt he kept of what he had ſeen, that we had not the ad⯑vantage of him in a ſingle picture, or the moſt mu⯑tilated remnant of a ſtatue.
Thoſe travellers who cannot remain a conſiderable time at Rome, would do well to get a judicious liſt of the moſt intereſting objects in architecture, ſculpture, and painting; theſe they ought to viſit frequently, and theſe only, by which means they will acquire a ſtrong and diſtinct impreſſion of what they have ſeen; inſtead of that tranſient and confuſed idea which a vaſt number of things viewed ſuperficially, leave in the mind.
CHAP. V. Papal and other Palaces, with their Antique Statues, &c.
[286]THE Pope has three ſuperb palaces; that of the Campidaglio, or ancient capitol; the palace of the Vatican; and that of the Monte Cavallo.
The approach to the modern Campidaglio is very noble, and worthy of the genius of Michael Angelo, who was the architect. This building is raiſed on part of the ruins of the ancient capitol, and fronts St. Peter's church, with its back to the Forum and old Rome. There are very little remains of the old capitol, or temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, yet enough to make a Chriſtian church. It had the denomina⯑tion of Capitolinus, ſays Livy, from the head of a man, caſually found here, in digging for the foundations of the famous temple of Jupiter. The capitol was the effect of a vow, made by Tarquinius Priſcus, in the Sabine war. The ſtructure ſtood on a high ridge, [287] taking in four acres of ground. This temple was firſt conſumed by fire in the Marian war, and then rebuilt by Scylla. This too was demoliſhed in the Vitellian ſedition. Veſpaſian undertook a third, which was burnt down about the time of his death. Domitian raiſed the laſt and moſt glorious of them all, in which the very gilding amounted to two millions and a quar⯑ter ſterling; which immenſe expenditure, in that ſingle article, gave Plutarch occaſion to obſerve, that he was like Midas, deſirous of turning every thing into gold.
The preſent building was erected in the pontificate of Gregory XIII. It is a large and magnificent pa⯑lace, with two ſpacious wings, containing very grand apartments. At the bottom of the ſtairs are two Egyptian lions, which form two fountains; and, at the top, ſtand Caſtor and Pollux, holding their horſes, both coloſſal, in white marble, and repreſenting thoſe heroes as they came expreſs to Rome, with the news of the victory gained over the Tarquins. Theſe two lions are, by ſome writers, called Sphinxes; ſo little is the dependance that can be put on the relation of travellers.
The two ſphinxes of Baſalte, at the bottom of the aſcent, though excellent ſpecimens of Egyptian ſculpture, ſays Moore, engage little your attention. [288] Warm with the glory of Rome, you cannot beſtow a thought on the hieroglyphics of Egypt. On the other hand, Northall has an expreſs note on this ſubject, and quotes two other authors in ſupport of his aſſer⯑tion, that they are lions. So very contradictory in their teſtimony in this particular.
In the centre of the area, fronting the city, ſtands the famous equeſtrian bronze ſtatue, of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Pius, which was erected to him by the ſenate and people of Rome. From this exalted ſtation, the emperor ſeems to take a ſurvey of the city; and, with his hand extended, to be now giving laws to Rome. It is eſteemed the fineſt ſtatue in the world, and was anciently in very high repute. The Romans boaſt much of this ſtatue at preſent; and ſay, the Venetians offered as many ſequins of gold for it, as could be incloſed in the belly of the horſe, which was refuſed. What Carlo Maratti is reported to have ſaid to the horſe, may give ſome idea of the excellence of the ſculpture. Why doſt thou not walk? Haſt thou forgot that thou art alive?
At the upper end of the area, ſays Moore, the eye is caught by a majeſtic female figure, in a ſitting at⯑titude, which, we are told, is a Roma triumphans, brought from Cori, one of the oldeſt towns of La⯑tium. We view her, ſays the above writer, with all [289] the warmth of fond enthuſiaſm, but we recollect ſhe is no longer triumphant; we caſt an indignant eye on St. Peter's, to which ſhe alſo ſeems to look with indig⯑nation. Is there ſuch another inſtance of the viciſ⯑ſitudes of human things; the proud miſtreſs of the world under the dominion of a prieſt?
In the two wings of this modern palace, called the Campidaglio, the conſervators of the city have apart⯑ments; their office is analagous to that of the ancient Aediles. In the main body, an Italian nobleman, ap⯑pointed by the Pope, has his reſidence, with the title of Senator of Rome; the miſerable repreſentation of that ſenate, which gave laws to the world. The moſt defaced ruin, the moſt ſhapeleſs heap of antique rub⯑biſh in all Rome, cannot convey a feebler image of the building, to which they belonged, than this deputy of the Pope does of that auguſt aſſembly.
The upper apartments, and galleries of this place, are filled with a ſurpriſing collection of antiquities; all the curious ſtatues and pieces of antiquity, found in and throughout the neighbourhood of the city, having been brought here to the embelliſhment of the Cam⯑pidaglio. An antiquarian cannot help being delighted with the chamber of the emperor, where on two rows of ſteps is diſplayed a long range of alabaſter and marble buſts, repreſenting the ancient Roman em⯑perors, [290] and their conſorts. There is alſo a very fine collection of Egyptian deities; each of them quite perfect. In the main building is the gaol for criminals. Near the capitol, is ſtill ſeen the ſtatue of Marforio. This is a coloſſal figure lying down, but without much merit, and remarkable, only, that againſt it are paſted the anſwers to thoſe ſatyrical verſes, ſtuck upon ano⯑ther antique ſtatue, called Paſquino, from whence the term Paſquinade aroſe, ſo frequently given to ſcurri⯑lous and abuſive poems.
Among other curious antiques in the capitol, ſays Lady Millar, is a vaſe of fine bronze, fluted, and in ſhape ſomewhat like flower-pots, intended to orna⯑ment gardens. This was the favourite cup of Mi⯑thridates, king of Pontus, who always had it carried with his baggage, to his encampments, and conſtantly drank out of it Pompey took a like fancy to it, and had it brought to Rome, where it was borne in triumph. It holds more than ſix gallons; but ſeems of the moſt inconvenient ſhape imaginable for a drink⯑ing cup; no modern mouth could eaſily take the brim; the capacious jaws of a Polypheme, might, in⯑deed, fill it well.
Here are alſo the feet, and one hand of a mutilated coloſſal ſtatue of Apollo, ſuppoſed to have been forty-one [291] feet high; the great toe meaſures thirty-ſeven inches round.
The ſuperb palace, called the Vatican, is attached to St. Peter's church, and was for many years the re⯑ſidence of the pontiffs. But they have of late pre⯑ferred Monte Cavallo as a drier and healthier ſituation. The Vatican, or Mons Vaticanus, owes its name to the anſwers of the Vates, or prophets, that uſed to be given here; or from the god Vaticanus; but it ſeems not to have been encloſed within the walls till the time of Aurelian. This hill was formerly famous for the ſepulchre of Scipio Africanus, ſome remains of which are here ſtill to be ſeen.
The Vatican is a palace extremely irregular, very lofty, and very ſpacious. It contains eleven thouſand and five hundred apartments. No tra⯑veller can be ſuppoſed to have either opportu⯑nity, or inclination, to examine into the truth of this account, ſo that we muſt depend on the veracity of the Pope's officers and domeſtics, whoſe authority for what they advance, is the wooden model of this palace, which at preſent is not to be ſeen.
This palace having been built and enlarged at dif⯑ferent times, there is no proportion or ſymmetry ob⯑ſerved in its ſeveral parts; and, to avoid damaging [292] the fine area before St. Peter's church, it has not ſo much as a portico in front.
The beſt painters of Italy have ſtriven to diſplay the utmoſt of their art, in the beautiful pictures that are every where to be ſeen in theſe apartments; and Ra⯑phael, eſpecially, has done wonders. His maſter-piece, is a picture repreſenting the hiſtory of Attila.
Excluſive of the paintings, the library and the an⯑tique ſtatutes are the principal objects, meriting the attention of a traveller.
The Vatican library is the fineſt, and nobleſt in the world, being full of manuſcripts in Hebrew, Greek, and other languages. Pope Sixtus V. cauſed it to be built from the very foundation, and ſpared no coſt to enrich it with the beſt books; but, ſince his death, it has been augmented by the Heidelberg library, and that of Chriſtina, queen of Sweden. It is generally divided into two parts, the public and private; the one is three hundred feet long, and ſixty broad: the other conſiſts of two rooms, into which admittance is not ſo eaſily obtained, becauſe of the very ſcarce ma⯑nuſcripts contained there.
This library is ſo conſtructed, as to afford a very agreeable coup d'aeil at the entrance; but, the books [293] being incloſed in preſſes, which are painted, deprives it entirely of the appearance of a library.
In this library ſtands a white and tranſparent column of oriental alabaſter, about ten feet high, which is ſolid and beautifully fluted. Oppoſite to this pillar is a ſarcophagus of white marble, and in it a winding-ſheet made of linen, which readily catches fire, but does not conſume thereby. This linen is ſecured by iron-work; and, in order to prove that it ſtands the fire, our Ciceroni, ſays Lady Millar, pulled one end of it through the iron, and ſet fire to it with a lighted bougie. It burnt faſt, and preſently extinguiſhed of its own accord. The corner, which had endured the flame, appeared rather cleaner and whiter than the reſt of the ſheet, which was all the effect that the fire produced. There are painted, on large pilaſters ranged in the middle of the library, thoſe perſons who were reputed to have been the inventors of letters in the ancient languages, with the letters which each are ſaid to have invented, written under their pictures.
They told us, ſays Lady Millar, that the preſſes con⯑tained ſeventy thouſand printed volumes, and forty thouſand manuſcripts. They ſhew a Greek teſtament, written in capitals, with the accents, nine hundred years old; ſeveral curious antique bibles in Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, &c. an elegant Greek manuſcript of [294] the Acts of the Apoſtles, in gold letters, given by one of the Popes to Charlotte queen of Cyprus; and ſe⯑veral others, with curious and high-finiſhed miniatures. Among theſe is a Pliny, with the pictures of all the animals; a Virgil of the 5th century, written entirely in capitals, with the figures of the Trojans and Latins in their proper habits; a beautiful manuſcript of Taſſo, and a Dante, with miniatures at the top of each page deſcriptive of the ſubjects. Here are alſo carefully preſerved, the original love-letters from King Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn; and his treatiſe on the ſeven ſacraments written againſt Luther; with his dedication, in his own hand-writing, to Pope Leo X.
In the middle of this palace is a ſpacious ſquare, ſur⯑rounded with orange-trees and antique ſtatues, and therefore called, ſays Keyſler, il giardino delle ſtatue an⯑tiche. It is alſo called the Belvidere, on account of the glorious proſpect ſeen from it. Here is that noble repoſitory of antique ſculpture, called the Clementine Muſeum; and the preſent Pope has fitted up a ſet of apartments, worthy them and him for their better re⯑ception. It is ſaid to be the moſt ſuperb aſſemblage of the fineſt ſtatues in the whole world; there are eight in all.
The firſt remarkable object we meet with is, a large mutilated ſtatue, poſſibly of Hercules, without head, [295] hands, or feet; but, for the exquiſite repreſentation of the muſcles, &c. preferred by Michael Angelo, to all the other remains of antiquity. This piece, which is commonly called il tronco di Belvidere, is incloſed with iron-work; and, according to Lancivi's account, was dug up in the Campo di Fiori. In the niche of a por⯑tico, ſurrounding a ſmall open court, is the famous Apollo Belvidere, and the no leſs famous Laocoon; the former incomparably the fineſt ſingle figure, and the latter the fineſt group in the world. Apollo is ſuppoſed to have juſt diſcharged his arrow at the Python: his attitude is beautiful, natural, and unaffected; his countenance compoſed and elegant; the workmanſhip of every part exquiſite: he is longer from the middle downwards than nature, ſays Martyn; but this devia⯑tion, from the proportion of the human figure, adds greatly to his dignity; and, upon the whole, he has an unſpeakable ſublimity, that inſpires admiration, awe, and reverence.
When the folding doors were thrown open, of the niche which conceals the ſtatue of Apollo, ſays Lady Millar, I ſtarted back with ſurprize. Never did I ſee any ſculpture come ſo near the life, nor animation ex⯑preſs ſo much majeſty and dignity. I was ſtruck with awe. The beautiful proportions of the limbs, the grandeur and noble air diffuſed over the whole figure, his commanding aſpect, blended with angelic ſweet⯑neſs, [296] joined to the moſt perfect feature, made me almoſt fancy he breathed and was about to ſpeak.
The point of view, ſays Sherlock, from whence is ſeen the moſt perfect union of the ſublime and beautiful in nature, is from the top of Veſuvius. The point of view, from whence is ſeen the moſt perfect union of the ſublime and beautiful in art, is in the court of the Apollo of Belvidere. From the former we ſee the mouth of the volcano; fields deſolated by rivers of lava now frozen; a country of vineyards, of con⯑ſiderable extent, diverſified by the moſt beautiful mix⯑ture of plains and hills; the city of Naples, the hill of Paufilippo, a number of iſlands ſcattered in a vaſt ſea, &c. &c. In the court we ſee the Apollo, the Laocoon, the Antinous, and the celebrated torſo of Hercules, called the torſo of Michael Angelo, on account of the admiration which he had for this precious fragment. Here we ſee what the Greek nation was. Let me not be told of prejudice for the ancients, I have none; I only do juſtice to the merit of things, and it is very indifferent to me, ſays Sherlock, where they are found, or who are their authors. To be juſt, we muſt ſome⯑times appear extravagant; when an object is tranſcen⯑dently beautiful, or great, ſuitable encouragement ought to be given to it. The pen of man cannot do juſtice to the poetry of Shakſpeare, the genius of the King of Pruſſia, or the works of the Greeks. Many, [297] I know, will condemn me for this laſt expreſſion; but, I deny them to be judges; they will condemn me only, becauſe they know not my ſubjects.
It is in the Belvidere that we ſee the ſuperiority of the Greeks to all the nations of the world. The diſ⯑tance that is between the Apollo, the Laocoon, and all the beſt works of the French and the Italians, is ſo great, that it is almoſt ridiculous to name them to⯑gether.
Let the young traveller, when he views the Apollo, recollect that what he ſees has been a rude block of marble. The firſt ſtep of the artiſt was to create the character of this god. Before, therefore, the marble was touched, the ſculptor had made an effort of genius; and that effort of genius was ſo great, that all the men who have ſucceeded him to this moment, have never been able to make one like it. This eulogium, it may be ſaid, is too ſtrong; it is not an eulogium, it is a fact: if the fact be not true, name me a ſtatue equal in invention. Is it the Suſannah of Fiamingo, the Juſtice of Gulielmo della porta, the Santa Bibiena of Bernini, or is it the Moſes of Michael Angelo? No man of ſenſe will ever compare them. The Moſes is not inferior to any Italian or French ſtatue; but had we not ſeen the torſo, from which it is evident that Michael Angelo took the original idea of his ſtatue, we ſhould [298] never be aſtoniſhed at the invention of that produc⯑tion. The invention of the Apollo aſtoniſhes all men, and aſtoniſhes them in proportion to the time, and at⯑tention with which they examine it.
The Apollo of Bernini is a fine ſtatue; it appears in⯑different, only becauſe we compare it, often, imper⯑ceptibly with the Apollo of Belvidere. Neither is the Apollo of Bouchardon, an indifferent production; but compare the original French ſtatue, with the copy of the Greek ſtatue, in the gardens of Verſailles, the dif⯑ference is incredible; it is the difference between a man and a god. We cannot ſay what a heathen deity was; but we always feel, on viewing this ſtatue, that it was ſomething more than human.
When genius is unaccompanied by taſte, it is often ſurprized at miſſing its effect; the character created, it remained for taſte to chuſe a moment to ſhew this divi⯑nity; that moment ought to be animating and intereſt⯑ing; it ought to be favourable to grace, majeſty, and expreſſion; and, it ought to be ſo choſen, that the diſ⯑poſition of the whole, and the diſtribution of each part of the ſtatue, ſhould ſeem to flow from it with ſimpli⯑city and eaſe. The artiſt there has choſen the inſtant in which this god gives the ſublimeſt proof of his divi⯑nity, by an act of benevolence, in deſtroying an enemy of mankind; it is the inſtant after he has ſhot his [299] arrow at the ſerpent Python; the arrow diſcharged, he follows it with his eyes to obſerve its effect; the ex⯑preſſion of each part of the body correſponds to that of the face; and, from an idea ſo ſimple, this Grecian has been able to form a work which has obtained the applauſes of all men, and has made every artiſt deſpair.
When a perfect execution is added to genius and taſte, man cannot then go farther. The finiſh of this Apollo is inconceivable, even to the moſt minute par⯑ticulars; but the artiſt might almoſt have been ex⯑cuſed the trouble of ſo perfectly completing his work; his conception is ſo ſublime, and his diſtribution ſo happy, that they alone would have commanded the admiration of all men in all countries; and, a proof of this, is the homage every where paid to the caſts of this breathing god.
The beſt way to give an idea of the ſuperiority, of Greek execution, is to cite a fact. The Laocoon was found only with one arm; they wiſhed to have another; ſeveral artiſts attempted it, and all failed. Michael Angelo, the boldeſt genius that Italy ever had, who conceived the idea of placing the Pantheon in the air, and who made the dome of St. Peter's on the ſame dimenſions, thought that he could ſucceed in it; and, after having worked at it for two years, abaſhed and [300] deſpairing, be broke his work to pieces. Gulielmo della Porta, whoſe ſuperb mauſoleum, in St. Peter's, ſhews, that he was an artiſt of the firſt rank, ſaid, that it was impoſſible to make it in marble, but that he would make it in clay; and he made the right-arm in clay, as we ſee it at preſent; an inconteſtible proof of the unattainable perfection of the Greek execution.
I allow it, ſays Sherlock, to be a bad proof of our being in the right, that a celebrated man is of our opinion; but, I think every reaſonable being ſhould well examine, before he determines againſt a judgment ſo ſolid as that of Pouſſin, and a genius ſo bright as that of Monteſquieu: the former ſtudied inceſſantly the beſt works, ancient and modern, on which this was his deciſion: "Raphael, compared with the moderns, is an angel; compared with the ancients, he is an aſs." Compare the moſt beautiful figure of Raphael, detached, with the Apollo, and his fineſt group with the Laocoon, and judge for yourſelf.
France has no man who does her more honour in foreign countries, or who will do her more with poſ⯑terity than Monteſquieu; it is well known that he made ſome ſtay in Italy, and that he did not view objects like a ſuperficial obſerver: this was his idea with re⯑gard to the Greeks; "Taſte, and the arts have been [301] carried by them to ſuch a height, that to think to ſur⯑paſs them, will be always not to know them."
The Laocoon aſtoniſhes and terrifies. There is not a feature, or muſcle, which does not expreſs the deepeſt anguiſh. Laocoon is repreſented in the greateſt agony, and with his eyes lifted up to heaven. Near him are his two ſons, with the ſerpents turned about them, whom Virgil repreſents at ſome diſtance from the father, and expiring when he came to their re⯑lief. The youngeſt ſon is fallen down in the agonies of death; the other is not yet hurt, and looking to⯑ward his father, wiſhing to help him, and at the ſame time wanting help himſelf. The principle figure, viz. the father, has loſt the right-arm, and that of plaſter or clay, which hath been ſubſtituted in its room, is not to be compared to the other parts of the ſtatue, either for colour or workmanſhip; even Michael Angelo himſelf, being ordered to execute another arm for this ſtatue, is ſaid, deſignedly, never to have put the finiſhing hand to it.
For me, ſays Moore, to attempt a deſcription of the fine ſpecimens of antique ſculpture in the Vatican, which have been deſcribed a thouſand times, and imi⯑tated as often, without once having juſtice done them, would be equally vain and ſuperfluous. I ſhall, there⯑fore, confine myſelf to a very few obſervations. The [302] moſt inſenſible of mankind muſt be ſtruck with horror at ſight of the Laocoon. On one of my viſits to the Vatican, I was accompanied by two perſons who had never been there before; one of them was accuſed of being perfectly callous to every thing which did not immediately touch his own perſon; the other is a worthy good man: the firſt, after ſtaring for ſome time with marks of terror at the groupe, at length re⯑covered himſelf; exclaiming with a laugh,—"Egad, I was afraid theſe d—d ſerpents would have left the fellows they are devouring, and made a ſnap at me; but I am happy to recollect they are of marble."— "I thank you, Sir, moſt heartily," ſaid the other, for putting me in mind of that circumſtance; till you mentioned it, I was in agony for thoſe two youths."
Nothing can be conceived more admirably exe⯑cuted, than this affecting groupe; in all probability, it never would have entered into my imagination that it could have been in any reſpect improved. But, Mr. Locke, the famous ſculptor, it ſeems has obſerved, after mentioning the execution of this piece in the higheſt terms of praiſe, that, had the figure of Laocoon been alone, it would have been perfect. As a man ſuffering the moſt excruciating bodily pain with be⯑coming fortitude, it admits of no improvement; his proportions, his form, his action, his expreſſion, are exquiſite. But, when his ſons appear, he is no longer [303] an inſulated ſuffering individual; who, when he has met pain and death with dignity, has done all that could be expected from man; he commences father, and a much wider field is opened to the artiſt. We expect the deepeſt pathos, in the exhibition of the ſublimeſt character, that art can offer to the contem⯑plation of the human mind; a father forgetting pain, and inſtant death, to ſave his children. This ſublime and pathetic the artiſt did not ſee, or deſpaired of at⯑taining. Laocoon's ſufferings are merely corporal; he is deaf to the cries of his agonizing children, who are calling on him for aſſiſtance. But, had he been throw⯑ing a look of anguiſh on his ſons, had he ſeemed to have forgotten his own ſufferings in theirs, he would have commanded the ſympathy of the ſpectator in a much higher degree. On the whole, Mr. Locke is of opinion, that the execution of this groupe is perfect, but that the conception is not equal to the execution. Such are Mr. Locke's ſentiments; we have only to remark, whether a ſudden and inſtantaneous unex⯑pected pain of the moſt excruciating kind, poſſible to be conceived for the human mind to ſuffer, does not deſtroy every other ſentiment.
Reflecting on the dreadful condition of three per⯑ſons, entangled in the horrid twinings of ſerpents, and, after contemplating the varied anguiſh, ſo ſtrongly ex⯑preſſed in their countenances, it is a relief to turn the [304] eye to the heavenly figure of the Apollo. To form an adequate idea of the beauty of this ſtatue, it is ab⯑ſolutely neceſſary to have ſeen it. With all the ad⯑vantages of colour and life, the human form never appeared ſo beautiful; and, we can never ſufficiently admire the artiſt, who has endowed marble with a finer expreſſion of grace, dignity, and underſtanding, than ever were ſeen in living figures.
The admired ſtatue of Antinous is in the ſame court. Nothing can be more light, elegant, and eaſy; the proportions are exact, and the execution perfect. It is an exquiſite repreſentation of the moſt beautiful youth that ever lived.
The ſtatue of the Apollo repreſents ſomething ſu⯑perior; and the emotions it excites are all of the ſu⯑blime caſt.
Monte cavallo, the Pope's ſummer palace, on the Quirinal hill, has its name from two coloſſal ſtatues, with each a horſe, which they formerly held by the bridle. They bear the name of Phidias and Praxiteles; but, whoever was the ſculptor, they are certainly Grecian, and much the moſt pleaſing coloſſal ſtatues in Rome. That which is aſcribed to Phidias is the beſt. The horſes have great ſpirit, but their necks are too thick, and their heads too little. The bridles are [305] loſt. Conſtantine the Great, is ſaid to have brought them out of Greece, and to have placed them in his baths on the Quirinal mount. The figures, in both, have been ſuppoſed to repreſent Alexander and Bu⯑cephalus.
Over the doors of the palace is a balcony, ſup⯑ported by two Ionic pillars, from whence the Pope, on ſolemn occaſions, gives his benediction to the people. This palace, from the ſalubrity of the air, and its fine proſpect over a large part of the city of Rome, is pre⯑ferred by the popes, as a reſidence to the two former palaces. The building is round a large court, which is ſurrounded by a portico. A wide double ſtair-caſe conducts to the great hall.
The gardens belonging to this palace are large, and laid out in good taſte, but not taken care of as they deſerve. They are ſurrounded with very lofty cypreſs-trees, and laurels, with ſome hedges of myrtles, and are about a mile in circuit. A delightful laurel-grove leads from hence to a lower garden, where the water-works are very ſurpriſing. Some, by the means of organs, imitate the ſound of trumpets and kettle-drums; others, the exploſion of granadoes and rockets.
[306]At one angle of the large garden, the Pope has built two elegant apartments for his particular retirement, and furniſhed them after the Engliſh taſte, even to the moſt minute articles. This building is called the coffee-houſe.
The palaces of Rome line the ſtreets and ſquares, which thus owe their greateſt ornament to theſe vaſt edifices. The architecture is good in very few; but, in many, the prodigious extent, united to a magnifi⯑cence of decoration, is ſtriking: ſuch are the Barbe⯑rini, Borgheſe, Bracciano, Altieri, and Colonna palaces. In the interior diſtribution, magnificence is the lead⯑ing feature, to which convenience often gives place. Smollett ſays, he was told there were above three hun⯑dred palaces in Rome; but that, in fact, their num⯑ber did not exceed fourſcore; and, ſo far from there being ſcarce a Roman prince, whoſe revenue did not exceed fifty thouſand pounds; that he ſcarce found ſix individuals who had ten thouſand pounds.
Of the principal of theſe palaces we ſhall give a ſummary view. The Altieri palace is one of the largeſt in Rome. It is plain on the outſide, and a re⯑markably good piece of brick-work. The ſtaircaſe is grand. The library of Clement X. in this palace, is rich in manuſcripts, medals, &c. The princeſs's apartments conſiſt of ſeven noble rooms well fur⯑niſhed. [307] In the bedchamber, of the Prince Gaſper Altieri, is the chariot of the ſun in freſco, by F. Chiari; and the cieling, of the room adjoining to it, was painted by Carlo Maratti. The cardinal's bed of ſtate is valued at thirty thouſand crowns. Here is alſo ſhewn an octangular ſpeculum of rock cryſtal, ten inches long, and ſix broad, in a frame of gold ſet with amethyſts, emeralds, ſapphires, topazes, and diamonds; the whole weighs twelve pounds, and is by ſome eſti⯑mated at fifteen thouſand pounds.
The Barberini palace is exceeded only by the Va⯑tican, and contains four thouſand rooms or apartments. The two main ſtaircaſes are extremely grand; and, on one of them is a very large antique lion, much admired for the excellence of the workmanſhip. This palace reſembles two or three joined together; and, contiguous to it, is a very large garden, orna⯑mented with fountains, ſtatues, &c. The collection of fine pictures, antiques, and other curioſities in this palace, is prodigious. The library is in the upper ſtory, one hundred and ninety-ſeven ſteps leading up to it; they pretend that there are ſixty thouſand volumes of printed books, and nine thouſand manu⯑ſcripts. The great room is one hundred feet long, thirty-four broad, and twenty high; with a covered cieling. There is a cabinet of medals, antique gems, bronzes, &c. The jewels of this family, as is the [308] cuſtom with all the great and princely families in Italy, are kept in a large cabinet, and form a kind of regalia. Here is an aſtoniſhing quantity of precious ſtones and pearls. The jewels the ducheſs wears are mag⯑nificent. The diamonds are of a much larger ſize than any in England, except thoſe belonging to the crown; and there are a vaſt number of large pearls, of the fineſt water, and moſt exact formation.
The celebrated Borgheſe palace is very bad archi⯑tecture, both within and without; a vaſt extent of front without any break, order, or elegance. It is all of brick, ſtuccoed. The great court has double porticos, ſupported by an hundred granite columns. In this palace are ſeventeen hundred original pic⯑tures, which are reckoned worth ſeveral millions of money.
As this palace exceeds any other in Rome, for paintings, &c. it is ſurpriſing to ſee ſo much mean fur⯑niture, eſpecially the chairs and ſeats, amidſt ſo much ſplendor and magnificence.
The palace of Prince Odiſcalchi, was, formerly, for paintings and ſtatues, one of the moſt remarkable in Rome; but, at preſent, the front of it, by Bernini, is the only thing worth obſerving. The fineſt pieces by Corregio and Paul Veroneſe, as likewiſe all that be⯑longed [309] to Queen Chriſtina's collection, were ſold to the Duke of Orleans, regent of France.
The Colonna palace, fronting to the ſquare of the twelve apoſtles, is of great extent; and the apartments are magnificent, and handſomely fitted up. They are full of pictures by the beſt maſters. The gallery is one of the fineſt and richeſt in Europe, one hundred and thirty-nine feet long, thirty-four broad, and ſeventy high, and has ſome capital paintings. Here is a ca⯑binet, ſtudded with precious ſtones, which belonged to King Charles I. and was ſold by Cromwell to Cardinal Mazarine, whoſe niece married into the Colonna fa⯑mily. Among other expenſive furniture is a clock, ſhewing the hour of the day, the month, year, &c. which is wound up but once a year. Here is alſo a bed finely gilt, and made in the form of a ſhell, drawn by four ſea-horſes, like Neptune's triumphal car. This was the bed in which Maria Marcini, cardinal Mazarine's niece, lay in of her firſt child. This lady was famous for the paſſion which Lewis XIV. entertained for her. The conſtable Colonna's ſtables are inferior to none in Rome, and well ſtocked with Spaniſh, Neapolitan and Barbary horſes.
The Corſini is a noble palace, without architecture; twenty-two windows in front, a fine ſuite of rooms, and a large garden, part of which is in the Janiculeum, [310] and commands one of the nobleſt views in Rome. The library is well diſpoſed and public. It conſiſts of four rooms, twenty-four feet ſquare, and ſixteen high; in one of which is a large collection of prints and drawings; three others for new books, and a gallery ſeventy feet by twenty.
The Farneſe palace, belonging to the king of the two Sicilies, is the moſt ſuperb in Rome. It was chiefly built by Michael Angelo. In the court are three orders, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian, with open arcades round it.
In the apartments, of this now deſerted palace, are ſome good ſtatues and buſts: but its great ornament is the gallery, painted in freſco, by A. Caracci. The beauty of this palace is not viewed without concern; for not only the famous cube, but ſeveral other orna⯑ments, have been brought here from Veſpaſian's theatre, to the great detriment of that incomparable ſtructure. In the court are ſeveral ancient ſtatues of a large ſize, viz. a gladiator, Flora, and two ſtatues of Hercules, exactly reſembling each other, but not equally well cut. That on the left-hand is the Farne⯑ſian Hercules, and is the work of Glycon, an Athenian, as appears from the inſcription. The ſtatue of Flora near it, is mutilated; but, for the fineneſs of the dra⯑pery, few of the ancient pieces can be compared with it. [311] The Toro Farneſian is alſo much admired. The ſubject of this piece is, Amphion and Zethus tying Dirce by the hair to the tail of a bull, in revenge for her having robbed her mother Antiope, of their father's love. Though the figures are larger than life, it is ſaid to be one entire piece of marble. According to Marlyn, theſe three ſtatues have been very recently removed to Naples.
The Farneſian Hercules, remarks Moore, has been long admired as an exquiſite model of maſculine ſtrength; yet, admirable as it is, it does not pleaſe all the world. The women, in particular, find ſome⯑thing unſatisfactory, and even odious in this figure; which, however majeſtic, is deficient in the charms moſt agreeable to them; and which might have been expected in the ſon of Jupiter, and the beauteous Alcmene. A lady, adds Moore, whom I accompanied to the Farneſe palace, turned away from it with diſguſt. I could not imagine what had ſhocked her. She told me, after recollection, that ſhe could not bear the ſtern ſeverity of his countenance; that his large brawny limbs, and the club with which he was armed, gave him more the appearance of one of thoſe giants, that, according to the old romances, carried away virgins, and ſhut them up in gloomy caſtles, than the gallant Hercules, the lover of Omphale. Finally, the lady de⯑clared, that ſhe was convinced this ſtatue could not be a [312] juſt repreſentation of Hercules; for it was not in the nature of things, that a man ſo formed could ever have been a reliever of diſtreſſed damſels.
Without ſuch powerful ſupports as that of the fair ſex, I ſhould not have expoſed myſelf to the reſent⯑ment of connoiſſeurs, by venturing to aſſert, that the Farneſe Hercules is faulty both in form and attitude: the former is too wieldy for active exertion, and the latter exhibits vigour exhauſted. A reſting attitude is not the moſt proper, in which the all-conquering god of ſtrength could be repreſented. Reſt implies fatigue; and fatigue, ſtrength exhauſted A repoſing Hercules is almoſt a contradiction. Invincible activity, and inexhauſtible ſtrength are his characteriſtics.
Next to Hercules, is a moſt beautiful ſtatue of Flora. The great advantage, remarks Moore, which the an⯑cient artiſts had in attending the exerciſes of the gym⯑naſia, has been repeatedly urged as the reaſon of their ſuperiority over the moderns in ſculpture. We are told that, beſides the uſual exerciſes of the gymnaſia, all thoſe who propoſed to contend at the Olympic games, were obliged by the regulations to prepare themſelves, by exerciſing publickly for a year; and the ſtatuaries and painters conſtantly attended on the arena, where they beheld the moſt graceful of the Grecian youths employed in theſe ſports, in which the [313] power of every muſcle was exerted; and, where the human form appeared in an infinite variety of atti⯑tudes. By conſtant attendance at ſuch a ſchool, the artiſts are ſuppoſed to have acquired a more animated, true, and graceful ſtyle, than can poſſibly be caught from viewing the tame, mercenary models exhibited in our academies.
On the other hand it is aſſerted, that the artiſt, who formed the Farneſian Flora, could not have improved his work, or derived any of its excellencies from the circumſtances above enumerated; becauſe, the figure is in a ſtanding poſture, and cloathed. In the light eaſy flow of the drapery, the contour of the body, being as diſtinctly perceptible, as if the ſtatue was naked, the chief merit of this ſtatue is thought to con⯑ſiſt. But this reaſoning does not ſeem juſt; for the daily opportunities which the antient artiſts had of ſeeing naked figures, in every variety of action and attitude, muſt have given them advantages over the moderns, in forming even drapery figures. At Sparta, the women, upon particular occaſions, danced naked. In their own families, they were ſeen every day clothed in light draperies; and, ſo ſecondary was every con⯑ſideration, even that of decency, to art, that the pret⯑tieſt women of Agrigentum, it is recorded, were called upon by the legiſlature, without diſtinction, to ſhew themſelves naked to a painter, to enable him to [314] paint a Venus. Whilſt the moderns, therefore, muſt acknowledge their inferiority to the ancients in the art of ſculpture; they may be allowed merit, on account of the cauſe, to which it ſeems in ſome meaſure, at leaſt, to be owing.
As prince Giuſtiniani's palace is one of the moſt re⯑markable for excellent paintings, ſo it exceeds any in Rome for fine ſtatues. The ſecond ſtory conſiſts of a ſuite of eleven ſpacious apartments; through all which is a noble viſta, ſuperior to any of that kind in Rome. A particular deſcription of the original paintings, which are no leſs than ſeven hundred, and the antique monuments which are nineteen hundred, five hun⯑dred of which are ſtatues, occupy two volumes folio.
On the ſpot where this palace ſtands were, anciently, the baths of Nero and Severus; ſo that, at laying the new foundation, granates, baſalte, and other kinds of fine marbles, with a great number of ſtatues, buſts and bas-reliefs, were found there, which are noble orna⯑ments to the palace.
Some idea of the extent of the Pamfili palace may be formed, and which is equally large and magni⯑ficent; when our readers are informed, that upwards of four thouſand perſons were entertained in it; when [315] Prince Doria, the preſent poſſeſſor, received the arch-duke and archducheſs of Auſtria, in the year 1780. There are no leſs than eighteen palaces belonging to this family, ſeven of which are in Rome.
CHAP VI. Churches, Colleges, Hoſpitals, and general Remarks.
IF a city is entitled to the appellation of holy, from the number of its churches, Rome unqueſtionably merits it. They reckon up no leſs than three hundred and thirty churches; and, there are few of them in which the architecture does not merit commen⯑dation. Of theſe we ſhall only notice two or three of the principal; which, excluſive of the paintings and ar⯑chitecture, have ſome other peculiarities to intereſt the reader. It is not only the architecture, but the prodigious number of paintings, by the moſt capital maſters, which render ſo many of the churches in Rome, objects of curioſity to admirers of the arts. In [316] ſome of them a profuſion of riches dazzle the be⯑holder.
Who, ſays Abbé Coyer, without conſidering their architecture, can calculate all the riches accumulated in their churches? The chapel alone of S. Ignatius, in the church dedicated to our Saviour, would pur⯑chaſe a whole province. I ſpeak not of its pillars of verd antique, its niches of oriental alabaſter, its columns of lapis lazuli, and the gilded bronze, which every where dazzles the eyes; I conſider only the ſilver, the gold, and the precious ſtones, which are worked up with ſo much taſte.
The principal of theſe churches, is that of St. John de Lateran; which, though inferior to St. Peter's in di⯑menſions and architecture, is the metropolitan church in Rome. It was built by Conſtantine, and ſtiled mater orbis & urbis. The emperors formerly received their crowns in this church; and here, the Pope ſtill takes poſſeſſion of his dignity, and confers all eccleſiaſtical benefices. The fabric of this church has been much enlarged, ſince the time of Conſtantine, and is very beautiful. It has five doors, one of which is called the 'holy door,' being opened only in the jubilee year. The number of its precious ſhrines, and other valuable ornaments, is very great; but nothing is more valued than a plain tin chalice, which is ſaid to [317] have been made uſe of by S. Peter. The moſt va⯑luable curioſity in this church, is the coffin of Helena, mother to Conſtantine the Great, made of a ſingle piece of porphyry, with large bas-reliefs, repreſenting horſemen, and other figures. This is even larger than the ſuppoſed ſhrine of Bacchus, in St. Conſtantin's church, but is damaged in ſeveral places. It was dug up in the Via Labicana, about three miles from Rome.
Here are alſo the famous chairs, or ſtools, called ſtellae ſtercoratoriae, or exploratoriae. They are two in number, and between them is a chair of white marble, elevated ſomething above them; both are of porphyry. Before I had ſeen them, ſays Keyſler, I was aſſured they were only the common chairs uſed by the ancient Romans, in which a hole had been made and lined with wood. But, in viewing them, they did not ſeem at all adapted for the purpoſe of night ſtools; the aper⯑ture not being of a ſufficient ſize, and incommodiouſly placed. It is certain, however, that the popes, at their taking poſſeſſion of the Lateran, were formerly placed on theſe ſtools, or chairs; this the popiſh writers cannot deny; and Mabillon makes it an act of humility, perfectly agreeable to the words which are ſung at this ceremony: "He raiſes the needy from the duſt, and the poor from the dunghill, that he [318] may ſit with princes, and poſſeſs a throne of glory." Hence this chair came to be called ſtella ſtercoraria.
The indecent examination of the Pope's ſex, about which ſome writers have been very jocoſe, may, per⯑haps, be juſtly exploded as fabulous; but, it is not a proteſtant fable; Roman Catholic writers having firſt ſet it on foot, and introduced it into their ſatyres: as, for inſtance, the following epigram, among many others of the ſame kind, by Marcelli, on the Cibo family.
"Why ſuch the proofs of Cibo's ſex? See the num⯑ber of his children."
The whole hiſtory, or fable of pope Joan, paſſed current before Luther was born; as is evident from the ancient manuſcripts of Anaſtaſius, M. Polonus, and others. In a hiſtory of modern Rome, written by one Tentzell, and very ſcarce, is the following paſſage reſpecting that lady, which was purloined from the Vati⯑can library. "In the papal ſucceſſion, it appears, that John, an Engliſhman, ſucceeded Leo, and held the pon⯑tificate two years, five months, and four days, when there was a vacancy of a month, in the papal chair. [319] This pope is affirmed to have been a woman; who, being diſguiſed like a young man, was carried by her gallant to Athens, and made ſuch a progreſs in all the ſciences, that ſhe publickly read lectures at Rome for three years, the greateſt maſters being among her au⯑ditors; nor was there any equal to her, for parts and learning, in that city. At length, ſhe roſe to ſuch a pitch of reputation, as to be unanimouſly choſen pope; but, during her pontificate, ſhe unhappily con⯑ceived by her former gallant; and, being ignorant of the time of her delivery, ſhe fell in labour as ſhe was returning from St. Peters to the Lateran, and was de⯑livered between the Coliſaeum and St. Clement's church, where ſhe is ſaid to have expired. The Pope's cuſtom of turning aſide when he paſſes this way, is ſaid to be done, in order to expreſs his de⯑teſtation of this affair; neither is ſhe ſet down in the liſt of popes, on account of her ſex.
The Corſini chapel, belonging to this church, is pro⯑bably the moſt elegant in Europe, both for its pro⯑portions, and the diſpoſition of the marbles.
The Scala Santa is oppoſite to this church; it con⯑ſiſts of twenty-eight marble ſteps, ſaid to be brought from Pilate's palace at Jeruſalem; and, in the ſpa⯑cious area ſtands a great Egyptian obeliſk.
[320]St. Maria Maggiore, is ſo called from being the largeſt of the thirty churches, which are dedi⯑cated to the Virgin Mary, in this city. The nave of this church is ſupported by forty antique columns of Greek marble; they are Ionic, and belonged to the temple of Juno Lucina. The roof is flat, and gilt with the firſt gold which came from Peru. This church is alſo called St. Mary ad praeſepe, from its containing the manger, in which our Saviour is ſaid to have been laid, together with the ſwaddling clothes he wore, and ſome ſtraw on which he was placed.
In one of the chapels is a profuſion of rich marbles, opaque precious ſtones, and other magnificent orna⯑ments.
Under the church of St. Sebaſtian, the portico of which is ſupported by antique granite columns, are the catacombs. They are very narrow, in compariſon with thoſe at Naples, but are commonly ſaid to ex⯑tend forty miles. They were, originally, quarries of puzzolana, then ſerved for burial places of the hea⯑thens, and afterwards of the chriſtians.
Under the church of St. Giuſeppe is an ancient Roman priſon, built by Tullus Hoſtilius, and en⯑larged by Ancus Martius; it is called the priſon of St. Peter, who is ſaid to have been here. It has a fine [321] ſpring, which they tell you iſſued miraculouſly, to enable the apoſtles to baptize the goaler, and forty-ſeven other perſons. A ſtaircaſe near leads down to the dungeon, from the church; and there is a hole into another dungeon, where Jugurtha ended his days.
St. Maria degli angeli is the nobleſt church in Rome, next to St. Peter's; it was made out of Dio⯑cleſian's thermoe, by Michael Angelo. It was the room in which the youths performed their exerciſes in bad weather.
St. Maria ſopra Minerva, ſo called from being built where there was a temple decicated to Minerva, by Pompey.
In the church of St. Maria della Pieta, is an epitaph, the thought of which has ſomething uncommon in it.
"You would weep, if you knew that one month would put a period to your exiſtence; and yet you laugh, though not certain of a day."
[322] Il fagro monte della pietà was inſtituted to prevent the extortions of uſurers, by which the diſtreſſes of the poor, in other countries, are ſo extremely aggravated. Here any one receives two-thirds of the value of his pledge; and, if it does not exceed thirty crowns, he pays no intereſt; but, if above that ſum, only two per cent. are required. In caſe eighteen months ſhould elapſe before the pledge be redeemed, it is publicly ſold, and the overplus reſerved for the owner of the pledge. This ſale, however, may be prevented by renewing the obligation.
The church of St. Onofrio is not without ſome good paintings; but what chiefly draws a foreigner hither, is the fine view which this church affords all over the city of Rome. The remains of the celebrated poet Torquato Taſſo lie interred here.
Thoſe who are fond of horſes may meet with great entertainment at St. Anthony's church, on the 17th of January; that day being the feſtival of the ſaint, when all the horſes, mules, &c. belonging to the Pope, car⯑dinals, prelates, princes, and other great men, are drawn up before the church door, where a prieſt ſprin⯑kles them with holy water. If the horſes and mules receive no benefit from this practice, the monks, at leaſt, find the ſweets of it. At Sienna, the horſes which are to run the race on the aſſumption of the Virgin [323] Mary, are, the day before, bleſſed in the ſame manner with holy water, at the door of the cathedral; and the officiating prieſt has, at leaſt a wax candle, as an offering for every horſe. This cuſtom is ſuppoſed to have taken its riſe from the ſprinkling of the horſes at the Circenſian games.
On the altar of the church of St. Pietro, in Mon⯑torio, is the moſt celebrated picture, at preſent known in the whole world; it is the transfiguration of Chriſt on Mount Tabor, and was the laſt work of Raphael's admirable pencil. No monumental inſcription hav⯑ing been thought ſufficient to expreſs the praiſe of that great artiſt; this picture was ſet up, near his re⯑mains, as the moſt affecting and ſtrongeſt proof of the irreparable loſs the world ſuſtained, by his premature exit; for he died in the thirty-ſeventh year of his age.
This transfiguration, ſays Sherlock, is a ſchool of painting. If the art was loſt, and this picture remained, it would be alone ſufficient to form painters. All the parts of painting are united in it; the moſt exact drawing, the moſt ſenſible and pictureſque diſpoſition, a perfect harmony of colouring, and a ſublimity in the upper part of the picture, which tranſports the ſpecta⯑tor as much as the groupes below intereſt him. Ra⯑phael [324] was commanded to paint this ſubject; and, it is in itſelf rather barren. A god, cloathed in ſplendor, and illuminated by the rays of his glory, preſents, of itſelf, ſo ſublime an idea, that the artiſt could not miſs it. But it is the only idea that the ſubject offers. The painter was forced to create the reſt. It is the property of genius, ſaid Leonardo di Vinci, to draw a grand production from a poor ſubject; as it is that of mediocrity, to form a trifling work upon a rich ground. This ſentence, and the transfiguration, determine the rank of Raphael.
The ſtudies of the belles-lettres, and antiquities, are more followed at Rome than the ſciences. La ſa⯑pienza is the principal of the colleges; and, as it were, the centre of the univerſity. There are eight profeſ⯑ſors of theology, ſix of civil and canon law, eight of medicine, five of philoſophy, one of belles-lettres, and four of the Eaſtern and Greek languages.
The college of La Propaganda was founded by Gregory XV. There are ſeveral profeſſors belong⯑ing to it, who give lectures on theology, philoſophy, the belles-lettres, and the oriental languages, to the young eccleſiaſtics, who are deſigned for foreign miſ⯑ſion. The Roman college is a vaſt, heavy edifice, built by Gregory XIII. This is dedicated to the edu⯑cation [325] of youth, as are alſo the Clementine and Naza⯑rene colleges.
For the encouragement of learning, there are alſo many public libraries in Rome. That of the Vatican is univerſally known. The other principal ones are in the Altieri, Albani, Barberini, Borgheſe, Corſini, Ghizi, Imperiali, and Pamfili palaces; at the Sapienza, Propaganda, and Roman colleges; in the convents of St. Agoſtino, Geſu, St. Maria ſopra Minerva, &c. Moſt religious houſes of note have, likewiſe, conſiderable libraries, which are eaſily acceſſible.
It appears that there are very few ſtudents in theſe univerſities, the Jeſuits having every where monopo⯑lized the education of youth in the eccleſiaſtical ſtates.
Rome is full of thoſe foundations, for which religion lays opulence under contribution; ſuch are the con⯑ſervatories, ſome of which are for orphans, ſome for children brought thither by their parents, and not ſel⯑dom taken from them when their poverty endangers their morals; there are alſo hours of reformation for children who are diſobedient, or taking bad courſes; and other for wives, under, the misfortune of having bad huſbands. There are no leſs than thirty hoſpitals, ſays Keyſler, for the relief of the ſick and poor in the city of Rome, but none of them equal the Santo [326] Spirito; in which there are, generally, above a thouſand patients, and all well taken care of.
Forty nurſes are conſtantly kept in pay, to take care of the infants; which every night are put into the machines at the foundling hoſpitals. Beſides theſe, above two thouſand nurſes, in the city and neighbour⯑ing villages, have wages for nurſing the children till they are four or five years old; and then the boys are brought to the hoſpital to be inſtructed in handicraft trades, or polite arts, according to their different genius, when they are provided with all neceſſaries, till they are able to maintain themſelves. The girls, who generally exceed five hundred in number, are educated under the inſpection of a convent of nuns, till they are fit for the convent, or marriageable. If the latter be their choice, they have a portion of a hundred crowns. This hoſpital, though part of its revenues has been curtailed by ſome of the popes, to endow other charities which ſtood in need of its aſſiſt⯑ance, has ſtill an annual income of five and twenty thouſand pounds ſterling; beſides the produce ariſing from the circulation of the money, in the bank belong⯑ing to it.
The hoſpital of St. Michael is another admirable foundation for bringing up poor orphans, who are al⯑lowed to chuſe their trade; and, when they are [327] twenty years old, and able to maintain themſelves, they are diſmiſſed from the houſe, new cloathed from head to foot, with five and twenty crowns in their pockets. Into this hoſpital are alſo admitted, old diſabled ſervants, and others incapable, by age and in⯑firmities, of earning their bread. In the chapel, the two ſexes are ſeparated from each other by an iron grate; it being Lent, ſays Keyſler, when I viſited this hoſpital, their food conſiſted of a piece of dried fiſh, ſome cheſnuts, and bread, with a can of wine.
Every country in Europe, where the Roman Ca⯑tholic religion is profeſſed, has likewiſe its hoſpital for pilgrims, in Rome; but; the hoſpital of the Trinity, receives all nations indiſcriminately; and has fre⯑quently entertained fifteen thouſand pilgrims under its roof at once. The manner of receiving them is as follows: the pilgrims, as ſoon as they arrive, preſent themſelves before the officers of the houſe; and, on producing their certificates, their names are entered in the books of the hoſpital, and each perſon receives a medal, or ticket of admiſſion. They are then led into a large chamber; where a prieſt, having ſaid prayers, waſhes all their feet, and dreſſes the wounds of thoſe, whoſe feet have been hurt, or bliſtered by travelling; this done, they are led into the refectory; and, having ſupped, are ſhewn into the common dor⯑mitory, [328] where each individual has his bed aſſigned him.
The Pazzarella, or hoſpital for lunatics, very much reſembles Bedlam in its inſtitution; except that this charity is more extenſive, and provides for people of all nations, who are diſordered in their intellects, as appears from two Engliſh quakers, who were mer⯑chants in Italy, and had learnt the Italian language. Theſe quakers, it ſeems, from an exceſs of zeal, looked upon it as meritorious, to endeavour to make a convert of the Pope to quakeriſm; they, accordingly, applied to his domeſtics for an audience; nor did they make any ſecret of their buſineſs with his Holi⯑neſs, which they told in their uſual cant terms and jargon. At firſt, they were laughed at, as people diſ⯑poſed to be merry; but, repeatedly continuing their ſolicitations with great earneſtneſs, they were looked upon as madmen; and the Pope's officers, out of cha⯑rity, ſent them to the Pazzarella, as it is called. The grvernor of the houſe, thinking their zeal and tranſ⯑ports to be certain indications of a diſordered brain, ſhut them in a dungeon, and treated them with great rigour. The phyſicians alſo purged them moſt violently, repeating and ſtrengthening their doſes, as they obſerved their ravings encreaſe; but, all proving ineffectual, they were neglected as perſons incurable, and permitted to walk about the hoſpital with the [329] harmleſs lunatics, where they were ſeen by ſome Eng⯑liſh gentlemen, who, being informed for what reaſon they were confined, procured their releaſe, and had them ſhipped off for England.
But, to return to the charitable inſtitutions; almoſt every company of artiſans have their hoſpital, where they provide for ſuch of their fraternity as are in⯑firm, or otherwiſe diſtreſſed. In the church of the Twelve Apoſtles, are annually choſen twelve noble⯑men, and one prelate; who make it their buſineſs to go into every corner of the city, in ſearch of poor men aſhamed to beg, and relieve their wants. Even the lawyers ſet apart one day in every week, to defend the cauſes of the poor, gratis.
CHAP. VII. Environs of Rome.
[330]THE warmth of the climates neceſſarily makes the inhabitants fond of villas and gardens; where, in ſummer, they may retire for the benefit of freſh air. Of theſe there are ten or twelve, in the neighbourhood of the city, uſually viſited by ſtrangers. From this we may judge what a taſk they undertake, who reſolve to go through the whole; and what kind of an idea they are likely to carry away, who perform this taſk during a ſtay of a few months. Of theſe the villa Borgheſe ranks firſt; it is one of the fineſt ſpots in all Italy; and, as St. Peter's at Rome is the moſt ſuperb church in the world; ſo this villa, for beauty, ornaments, and curioſities, may be ſaid to exceed all other country ſeats in Italy, or elſewhere.
In ſhort, remarks Smollet, theſe villas would make a complete academy for painting, and ſculpture, eſpe⯑cially [331] for the ſtudy of ancient marbles; for, excluſive of the ſtatues and buſts in the garden, and the vaſt collection in the different apartments, almoſt the whole outſide of the houſe is covered with curious pieces in baſſo, and alto relievo.
It ſtands at the diſtance of a quarter of a league from the Porta Pinciana, and is encloſed within a wall, of five Italian miles in compaſs; containing a variety of ſituations, high and low, which favour all the na⯑tural embelliſhments one would expect to meet with in a garden, and exhibit a diverſity of noble views of the city and adjacent country. The part, ſays Lady Millar, is fine, and with a few alterations would be eſteemed ſuch even in England; the verdure is lively, and the trees old and well grown. To this part, the Engliſh are permitted by the Borgheſe family to re⯑pair twice a week, and play at cricket and foot-ball; we women, adds Lady Millar, go ſometimes and ſee the ſport, as do the Roman ladies, attended by their abbés, who form a brilliant body of ſpectators.
In the gardens are, at leaſt, twenty beautiful walks; and all the viſta's are terminated by ſtatues and foun⯑tains. The eſpaliers conſiſt of jeſſamine or orange-trees, myrtle, &c. In other parts of the garden are ſeparate little parks for deers and hares, and a warren for rabbits. Here is alſo a large canal ſtocked with [323] ſwans, and all kinds of aquatic fowls. In two large and lofty aviaries are to be ſeen all birds of the known feathered ſpecies; and the flower-garden exhibits the moſt beautiful flowers and remarkable vegetables.
At the entrance are the following curious regula⯑tions, relating to the garden of the Villa Borgheſe. "I, the keeper of the Villa Borgheſe, give notice, that whoever thou art, if thou art free, thou needeſt not fear any ſhackles of the law ſhould reſtrain thee here; go where thou wilt, gather what thou pleaſeſt, and ſtay or go when it is agreeable to thee. All thou ſeeſt, is rather for the entertainment of ſtrangers than of the owner; who, mindful of the ineſtimable freedom of the golden age, baniſhes, from theſe tranquil manſions, laws invented in the iron age: let good manners be the only law to be obſerved here. But, ſhouldeſt thou wantonly and deliberately break the golden rule, that good breeding dictates; beware, left the provoked gardner ſhould alſo break through the bounds of civi⯑lity and friendſhip."
Of the curioſities contained in the palace, we ſhall confine ourſelves to a few remarks on ſome of the moſt eſteemed. The hermaphrodite, of which there are ſo many prints and models, is accounted by many, one of the fineſt pieces of ſculpture in the world. The mattraſs, upon which this fine figure reclines, is the [333] work of Bernini, and nothing can be more admirably executed. Some critics ſay, he has performed his taſk too well, becauſe the admiration of the ſpectator is divided between the ſtatue and the mattraſs. This, however, ought not to be imputed as a fault to that great artiſt; ſince he condeſcended to make it at all, it was his buſineſs to make it as perfect as poſſible. It is ſaid, there was an artiſt at Verſailles, in a different line, who attempted ſomething of the ſame nature; he had exerted all his abilities in making a periwig for a celebrated preacher, who was to preach on a particular occaſion before the court; and, he imagined he had ſucceeded to a miracle. "I'll be hanged," ſaid he, to one of his companions, "if his Majeſty, or any man of taſte, will pay much attention to the ſermon to-day."
Among the antiques, there is a centaur in marble, with a cupid mounted on his back. The latter has the ceſtus of Venus, and the ivy crown of Bacchus, in allu⯑ſion to beauty and wine; he beats the centaur with his fiſt, and ſeems to kick with violence, to drive him along. The centaur throws back his head and eyes with a look of remorſe, as if he were unwilling, though forced, to proceed. The execution of this groupe is admired by thoſe who look upon it, merely as a jeu d'eſprit; but it acquires additional merit, when con⯑ſidered as allegorical of men, hurried on by the [334] violence of their paſſions, and lamenting their own weakneſs, while they find themſelves unable to reſiſt.
There is another figure which claims attention, more on account of the allegory than the ſculpture. This is a ſmall ſtatue of Venus Cloacina, trampling on an impregnated uterus, and tearing the wings of Cupid. The allegory indicates, that proſtitution is equally deſtructive of generation and love.
This villa is alſo enriched by one of the moſt ani⯑mated ſtatues in the world; and which, in the opinion many, comes neareſt, and, in the judgment of ſome, equals the Apollo of the Vatican; this is the ſtatue of the fighting gladiator. It is difficult, however, to com⯑pare two pieces whoſe merits are ſo different. The Apollo is full of grace, majeſty, and conſcious ſupe⯑riority; he has ſhot his arrow, and knows its ſucceſs. There is, indeed, a ſtrong expreſſion of indignation which opens his lips, diſtends his noſtrils, and contraſts his brows; but, it is the indignation of a ſuperior being, who puniſhes, whilſt he ſcorns the efforts of his enemy. The gladiator, on the contrary, full of fire and youthful courage, oppoſes an enemy he does not fear; but whom, it is evident, he thinks worthy of his utmoſt exertion; every limb, nerve, and ſinew is in action; his ardent features indicate the ſtrongeſt deſire, the higheſt expectation; but not a perfect ſecu⯑rity [335] of victory. His ſhape is elegant as well as ner⯑vous; expreſſive of agility as well as ſtrength; and equally diſtant from the brawny ſtrength of the Far⯑neſian Hercules, and the effeminate ſoftneſs of the Bel⯑videre Antinous.
Though this fine figure generally goes by the name of the fighting gladiator, ſome antiquarians cannot allow, that ever it was intended to repreſent a perſon of that profeſſion, but a victor at the Olympic games; and aſſert, that it is the identical ſtatue made by order of the Athenian ſtate, in honour of their countryman Chabrias; and, that it is preciſely in the attitude which, according to Cornelius Nepos, that hero aſſumed when he repulſed the army of Ageſilaus.
There are eight or ten of theſe villas in the out⯑ſkirts of Rome, highly celebrated for their delightful proſpects, their beautiful gardens, their ſuperb collec⯑tion of antique ſtatues and paintings, by the greateſt maſters of the art; but, to enumerate them ſeparately would be ſuperfluous and tedious in the deſcription.
Excluſive of theſe villas belonging to the Roman princes within the precincts, as it were, of the capital; there are ſeveral other places, at ſome ſmall diſtance from Rome, which have been illuſtrious in antiquity, and therefore merit a more particular deſcription. [336] The principal of theſe are, Freſcati, Tivoli, and Albano.
Freſcati is about twelve miles Eaſt of Rome, and ſituated on, or near, the ſame ſpot where the ancient Tuſculum ſtood, and derives its name from the arbours, or tabernacles, built by the inhabitants of Tuſculum, when their city was demoliſhed in 1191. This charm⯑ing place is, at preſent, the ſummer reſidence of ſeve⯑ral perſons of the firſt rank, who have not only ſplen⯑did palaces and gardens here, but have taken advan⯑tage of this favourable ſituation, among hills, for making very grand water-works, ſuch as would make a figure even at Verſailles. Tuſculum is often marked, in ancient hiſtory, as the ſcene of many memorable events; it was the birth-place of Cato the cenſor, the great grandfather of Cato of Utica; it was rendered illuſtrious by the celebrated villa of Cicero, to which he frequently retired, and where he compoſed thoſe ſo juſtly admired philoſophical diſſertations. This place boaſts likewiſe, of having given birth to Metaſtatio; un⯑queſtionably, the firſt poet in Italy. The town is built on the declivity of a hill, and commands a fine view of the country below, and of the many villas and gardens which clothe and beautify the brow of the mountain.
[337]The principal villa belongs to the Borgheſe fa⯑mily, and is ſituated on Monte Dracone, a mile from the town; it is ſo called from the dragon borne by the family of Borgheſe in their arms. This houſe is reckoned one of the largeſt in Europe, and has a fine portico conſtructed by Vignoles.
The palace ſtands on an eminence, and at the end of a very beautiful avenue. At the entrance are the following oſtentatious mottos.
That is,
And farther on,
Some idea may be formed of the largeneſs of this palace from the number of its windows, which are no leſs than three hundred and ſeventy-four; and, from one of them, the noble owner has a proſpect of part of his own eſtate to the amount of fifteen thouſand pounds ſterling a year.
[338]From the terrace is a moſt beautiful view of Rome, and the adjacent country, till the ſea bounds the proſ⯑pect on that ſide: villages, ruins, and the Lago Caſ⯑tilione, with mountains from another beautiful proſ⯑pect; the tout enſemble is truly wonderful and delight⯑ful, uniting all the advantages of a near, with all the grandeur of an extenſive, proſpect.
Here we cannot omit the ſtory of an unfortunate mother and daughter of the family of Cenci, whoſe portraits are ſhewn in one of theſe apartments. The father of the latter was ſuch an abandoned wretch, that he could not refrain from acts of brutal, and even unnatural luſt with his wife, in his daughter's preſence, and made ſeveral violent attempts on her perſon alſo. To put a period to ſuch indignities, ſhe had recourſe to a moſt deſperate attempt, to which her father's hor⯑rid villany prompted her. She concealed two aſſaſſins in her chamber, who were to murder her father in his ſleep; but, when the dreadful moment came, the two villains were ſeized with fear, or ſudden remorſe, and ſhewed a reluctance to perpetrate the murder. Upon this the daughter, in a tranſport of rage, ſnatched a ſtiletto from the hands of one of the aſſaſſins, and ſtabbed her father as he ſlept, who expired amidſt a deluge of blood. This dreadful cataſtrophe happened in the time of Paul V. and the mother and brother being privy to the deſign, they were all three beheaded [339] before the caſtle of S. Angelo. The Pope ſhewed them no other favour, notwithſtanding they were of a noble family, than that of ordering ſome guns to be fired, at the time of their execution, from the caſtle of S. Angelo, as a ſignal for his Holineſs to pronounce a benediction in their behalf. The daughter died with great reſolution; and her youth and beauty drew a flood of tears from the ſpectators.
The villa Aldobrandini is alſo remarkable for its fine ſituation, extenſive gardens, airy terraces, its grottos and water-works. Theſe form a kind of theatre; and a braſs globe, ſupported on the ſhoulders of Atlas, ejects water on all ſides. Near this ſtatue are a lion and a tyger fighting; and, the water iſſuing from the mouth and noſtrils of the former, exactly imitates the ſnarling of that animal when enraged. The column of water, in the center of the fountain, riſes to the height of ſeventy-four palmi, and is at⯑tended with a noiſe like the whizzing of ſky-rockets. Here is alſo a Francis, or Polypheme, playing on one of the ancient paſtoral pipes, and a Centaur blowing a horn, which is ſaid to be heard four Italian miles. In an arched hall, is alſo to be ſeen Mount Parnaſſus, with Apollo, the Muſes, and Pegaſus; the muſic of the choir proceeds from an artificial cuckow, and an organ with a variety of ſtops, put in play by water, as is another place before the theatre. The keys of [340] theſe inſtruments are moved by braſs pins, fixed in a cylinder, which turns on its axis by means of a water-mill. Near Mount Parnaſſus ſtand the ſtatues of Co⯑rinna and Sappho; and, on the walls, Apollo's chief ad⯑ventures are painted in freſco. Over the door is this diſtich:
This curious ſaloon is paved with fine ſmall ſtones curiouſly arranged; and, in the center of the pave⯑ment is a hole, over which a light globe, or ball, is kept in a perfect equilibrium, at the diſtance of a ſpan from the floor, only by the impetus of the air, forced up by water through the hole. The caſcade conſiſts of ſixty-five ſteps, and on both ſides are tortoiſes, dol⯑phins, and other aquatic animals, cut in ſtone, and ſpouting water at each other. In the garden, not far from the caſcade, is a wilderneſs, with ſeveral ſhady, narrow walks in it.
The villa Conti is worth ſeeing, on account of its garden and water-works, and particularly for the an⯑cient [341] remains of eighteen vaulted buildings, ſaid to have formed part of the menagerie of Lucullus.
The ruins of the ancient town of Tuſculum are to be traced above a villa belonging to the Jeſuits, called the grottos of Cicero; but, it is by no means certain that theſe veſtiges made part of his villa.
Freſcati is the ſee of a biſhop, who is ſuffragan of Rome, and it is uſually held by one of the ſix eldeſt cardinals. At preſent, it belongs to the cardinal of York, who paſſes the greateſt part of his time in the duties and ceremonies of a religion, of whoſe truth he ſeems to have the fulleſt conviction.
Near the bottom of the eminence, on which Tivoli ſtands, are the ruins of the vaſt and magnificent villa, built by the Emperor Adrian. Theſe remains cover a large extent of ground. Several country houſes have been built upon them, and the greater number of the fineſt antiques in the Roman collections have been found here. Various authors agree, that this villa was in length three miles; and in breadth, a fifth of that ſpace. Here ſtill remain veſtiges of co⯑lonades, temples, aqueducts, &c. On part of the gardens is built a religious houſe for the Jeſuits; they are ſaid to have been laid out, formerly, in the moſt beautiful repreſentation of the Elyſian fields, contraſted [342] with the regions of Pluto. Much more may be ſaid of this villa, even in its preſent ruined ſtate; but, what it has been, may be gathered from a variety of ancient authors. Suffice it to ſay, that the utmoſt efforts of the arts and ſciences were exhauſted in the improvement of a ſpot, kind and beautiful by nature.
A wet and marſhy piece of ground, which was partly under water, and had been an immenſe baſon in front of this villa, is rented by a M. Hamilton, an ingenious Engliſh artiſt, who keeps a great number of men at work upon it, and has ſucceeded, ſo far as he has gone, in draining it, with great expence and labour. He very ſenſibly fixed on this ſpot, concluding, that many valuable antiques might have been thrown into the water, to preſerve them from the barbarous fury of thoſe who demoliſhed this ſuperb edifice; and has already found a great number of curious articles, which will yield him an ample indemnification.
[344]The caſcade of Terni is formed by the fall of the river Velino, which Virgil mentions in the ſeventh Aeneid, Roſea rura Velini. The channel of this river lies very high, and is ſhaded on all ſides by a green foreſt, made up of ſeveral kinds of trees, that preſerve their verdure all the year. The neighbouring moun⯑tains are ſerved with them; and, by reaſon of their height, are more expoſed to the dews, and drizzling rains, than any of the adjacent parts, which gives occa⯑ſion to Virgil's Roſea rura (dewy countries). The river runs extremely rapid before its fall, and ruſhes down a precipice of a hundred yards high; it throws itſelf into the hollow of a rock, which, probably, has been worn by ſuch a conſtant fall of water. It is im⯑poſſible to ſee the bottom on which it breaks, for the thickneſs of the miſt that riſes from it, which looks at a diſtance like clouds of ſmoke, aſcending from ſome vaſt furnace, and diſtils in perpetual rains on all the places that lie near it. The river Velino, after hav⯑ing found its way out from among the rocks, runs into the river Nera. [See the Plate. The figures on the fore-ground are in the coſtume, or dreſs of the country.
After having paſſed theſe falls, this river, which takes its riſe in the Appenines, fifty miles above Tivoli, loſes itſelf in the Tibur.
[345]Beſides the caſcade and the Sibyl's temple, Tivoli has to boaſt of the villa Eſtenſe, which is ſaid to have coſt the family, whoſe name it bears, three millions of crowns; yet this fine houſe is going to decay as faſt as time can effect it. This palace has been much ad⯑mired for its architecture, ſculpture, paintings, gar⯑dens, and water-works. Moſt of the water-works are ſtill kept up; for, being eaſily ſupplied from the river Anio, they are not very chargeable. The large baſon, before the palace, furniſhes a great quantity of water. Near this baſon, is a very long row of ſome hundreds of eagles, pyramids, baſes, and other figures, cut in ſtone, and fixed on pedeſtals, with bas-reliefs of ſtories taken from Ovid's Metamorphoſes, and water is ejected from all of them. This row of figures, being ſeveral hundred paces in length, is a very elegant or⯑nament; and, at the end, ſtands a ſhip with its maſts and rigging, as it were, engaged and vigorouſly de⯑fending itſelf, by ejecting water from all parts. On an adjoining eminence, is a repreſentation of ancient Rome, with its temples, theatres, obeliſks, baths, columns, triumphal arches and aqueducts. The Gi⯑rondola, or dragon fountain, throws up a vaſt column of water, to the height of twenty palmi. The water-organ, is alſo a curious piece of work; and the deep caſcade is in a good taſte. Upon the whole, the water-works at Tivoli ſurpaſs thoſe at Freſcati; but the latter afford a more agreeable proſpect; for [346] Tivoli lies on the brow of a chain of hills, by which great part of its proſpect is intercepted on one ſide.
This was a populous and flouriſhing town in re⯑moter antiquity; but, it appears to have been thinly inhabited in the reign of Auguſtus. Horace, in an epiſtle to Mecaenas, ſays,
That is, "Little things are adapted to little men. It is not royal Rome that pleaſes me now, but the empty Tibur."
Though the town itſelf was not populous, the beauty of the ſituation, and wholeſomeneſs of the air, prompted great numbers of illuſtrious Romans, both before the final deſtruction of the republic, and afterwards, in Auguſtus's time, to build country-houſes in the neigh⯑bourhood. Julius Caeſar had a villa here, which he was under the neceſſity of ſelling, to defray the ex⯑pence of the public ſhews and games he exhibited to the people during his Aedileſhip. Plutarch ſays, that his liberality and magnificence, on this occaſion, ob⯑ſcured the glory of all who had preceded him in the office, and gained the hearts of the people to ſuch a degree; that they were ready to invent new offices, [347] and new honours for him. He then laid the foun⯑dation of that power and popularity, which enabled him, in the end, to overturn the conſtitution of his country. Caius Caſſius had alſo a country houſe here; where Marcus Brutus and he are ſaid to have had fre⯑quent meetings, and to have formed the plan, which terminated the ambition of Caeſar; and again offered Rome that freedom, which ſhe had not the virtue to accept. Here alſo, was the villa of Auguſtus, whoſe ſucceſs in life aroſe at the field of Philippi, from which he fled; was confirmed by the death of the moſt vir⯑tuous citizens of Rome; and who, without the talents, reaped the fruits of the labour, and vaſt projects of Julius Caeſar. Lepidus the triumvir, Cecilius Metellus, Quintillius Varus, the poets Catullus and Propertius, and other diſtinguiſhed Romans, had villas in this town, or its environs, and the ſpots are ſhewn on which they ſtood; but nothing renders Tibur ſo intereſting, as the frequent mention which Horace makes of it in his writings. His great patron and friend Mecoenas had a villa here, the ruins of which are to be ſeen on the South bank of the Anio; and, it was pretty generally ſuppoſed, that the poet's own houſe and farm were very near it, and immediately without the walls of Tibur; but it has been of late aſſerted, with great pro⯑bability, that Horace's farm was ſituated nine miles above that of Mecoenas's, at the ſide of a ſtream, called Licenza, formerly Digentia, near the hill of Lucre⯑tilis, [348] in the country of the ancient Sabines. Thoſe who hold this opinion ſay, that when Horace talks of Tibur, he alludes to the villa of Mecoenas; but, when he mentions Digentia, or Lucretilis, his own houſe and farm are to be underſtood.
But, whether the poet's houſe and farm were near the town of Tibur, or at a diſtance from it; his wri⯑tings ſufficiently ſhew, that he ſpent much of his time there; and, it is probable, that he compoſed great part of his works in that favourable retreat. This he, in ſome meaſure, declares in that fine ode addreſſed to Julius Antoninus; the ſame whom Auguſtus firſt par⯑doned, and afterwards put privately to death, on ac⯑count of an intrigue, into which he was ſeduced by the abandoned Julia, the daughter of Auguſtus. If Tivoli had nothing elſe to recommend it, but its being ſo often ſung by the moſt elegant of the poets, and its having been the reſidence of ſo many illuſtrious men, theſe circumſtances alone would render it worthy the attention of travellers.
On the road from Rome to Tivoli, about three miles from the latter, ſtrangers are deſired to viſit a kind of lake, called Solfatara, formerly Lacus Albulus, and there ſhewn certain ſubſtances, to which they give the name of floating iſlands. They are nothing more than bunches of bullruſhes, ſpringing from a thin ſoil, [349] formed by duſt and ſand blown from the adjacent ground, and glued together by the bitumen, which ſwims on the ſurface of this lake, and the ſulphur with which its waters are impregnated. Some of theſe iſlands are twelve or fifteen yards in length; the ſoil ſufficiently ſtrong to bear five or ſix people; who, by the means of a pole, may move to different parts of the lake, as if they were in a boat. This lake empties itſelf by a whitiſh, muddy ſtream in the Teve⯑rone; a vapour, of a ſulphureous ſmell, ariſing from it as it flows. The ground near this rivulet, as alſo around the borders of the lake, reſounds as if it were hollow, when a horſe gallops over it. The water of this lake has the ſingular quality of covering every ſubſtance which it touches, with a hard ſtony matter. On throwing a bundle of ſmall ſticks, or ſhrubs into it, they will, in a few days, be covered with a white cruſt; but what ſeems ſtill more extraordinary, this encruſting quality is not ſo ſtrong in the lake itſelf, as in the canal, or little rivulet that runs from it; and the further the water has flowed from the lake, till it is quite loſt in the Anio, the ſtronger is this quality. Theſe ſmall, round encruſtations, which cover the ſand and pebbles, reſembling ſugar-plumbs, are called Confetti di Tivoli. Fiſhes are found in the Anio, both above and below Tivoli, till it receives the Al⯑bula; after which, during the reſt of the courſe to the Tibur, there are none. The waters of this lake, had [350] a high medical reputation anciently; but, at preſent, they are in no eſteem.
The road from Freſcati to Rome, by Genſano, Ma⯑rino, La Riccia, and Caſtel Gondolfo, is delightful. All the villages, and villas, communicate with each other, by fine walks, and avenues of lofty trees; whoſe intermingling branches form a continual ſhade for the traveller. Caſtel Gondolfo is a little village, near the lake of Albano; on one extremity of which is a caſtle, belonging to his Holineſs, from which the vil⯑lage takes its name. There is nothing remarkably fine in this villa, except its ſituation. Near the village is likewiſe the villa Barberini; within the gardens of which are the ruins of an immenſe palace, built by the Emperor Domitian. There is a charming walk, about a mile in length, along the ſide of the lake, from Caſtel Gondolfo, to the town of Albano. The lake of Al⯑bano is an oval piece of water, about ſeven or eight miles in circumference, whoſe margin is finely adorned with groves and trees of various verdures, beautifully reflected from the lake; and which, with the ſurround⯑ing hills, and the Caſtel Gondolfo, which crowns one of them, forms a fine pictureſque appearance.
The grand ſcale on which the beauties of nature appear in Switzerland, and the Alps, has been con⯑ſidered by ſome as too vaſt for the pencil; but, among [351] the ſweet hills and vallies of Italy, her features are brought nearer the eye, are fully ſeen and under⯑ſtood, and appear in all the bloom of rural lovelineſs. Tivoli, Albano, and Freſcati, therefore, are the fa⯑vourite abodes of the landſcape-painters, who travel into this country for improvement; and, in the opinion of ſome, theſe delightful villages furniſh ſtudies better, to the powers of their art, than even Switzerland it⯑ſelf. Nothing can ſurpaſs the admirable aſſemblage of hills, meadows, lakes, caſcades, gardens, ruins, groves, and terraces; which charm the eye in wandering amid the ſhades of Freſcati and Albano, appearing in new beauty as they are viewed from different points, and captivating the beholder with endleſs variety.
The moſt commanding view is from the garden of a convent of capuchins, at no great diſtance from Albano. Directly in front is the lake, with the moun⯑tains and woods which ſurround it, and the caſtle of Gondolfo; on one hand is Freſcati, with all its villas; on the other, the towns of Albano, La Riccia, and Genſano; beyond theſe an uninterrupted view of the Campagna, with St. Peter's church, and the city of Rome in the middle; the whole proſpect being bounded by the hills of Tivoli, the Appenines, and the Mediterranean.
[352]One of the ſcenes, generally taken by moſt painters, is a view near the fountain, between Lericci and Al⯑bano, about twenty-five miles on the road from Rome to Naples, with a diſtant proſpect of part of the Cam⯑pagnia, and the Mediterranean. The figures are in the dreſs of the country. N. B. The ancient Via Ap⯑pia, from Rome to Brunduſium, went cloſe to this road, of which there are now ſome remains. [See the Plate.]
CHAP. VIII. Amuſements and Religious Functions.
THERE are no theatrical entertainments permit⯑ted in Rome, except during the carnival; but, they are then attended with a degree of ardour un⯑known in capitals, whoſe inhabitants are under no ſuch reſtraint. Every kind of amuſement, indeed, in this gay ſeaſon, is followed with the greateſt eagerneſs. The natural gravity of the Roman citizens is changed into a mirthful vivacity; and the ſerious ſombre city of Rome exceeds Paris itſelf, in ſprightlineſs and gaiety. This ſpirit ſeems gradually to augment, from its commencement; and is at its height in the laſt of the ſix weeks which comprehend the carnival. The citizens then appear in the ſtreets, maſked, in the cha⯑racters of harlequins, pantaloons, punchinellos, and all [360] the fantaſtic variety of a maſquerade. This humour ſpreads to men, women, and children; deſcends to the loweſt ranks, and becomes univerſal. Even thoſe who put on no maſks, and have no deſire to remain unknown, reject their uſual clothes, and aſſume ſome whimſical dreſs. The coachmen, who are placed in a more conſpicuous point of view than others of the ſame rank in life, and who are perfectly known by the carriages they drive, generally affect ſome ridiculous diſguiſe; many of them aſſume a woman's dreſs, and have their faces painted, and adorned with patches. However dull theſe fellows may be, when in breeches, they are, in petticoats conſidered as the pleaſanteſt men in the world, and excite much laughter in every ſtreet in which they appear.
The ſtreet called the Corſo is the great ſcene of all theſe maſquerades. It is crouded every night with people of all conditions: thoſe of rank come in coaches, or in open carriages made on purpoſe. A kind of civil war is carried on by the company as they paſs each other. The greateſt mark of attention, people can ſhew their friends and acquaintance, is to throw a handful of little white balls, reſembling ſugar-plumbs, in their faces; and, if they are not deficient in politeneſs, they will inſtantly return the compli⯑ment. All who wiſh to make a figure in the corſo, come well provided with this kind of ammunition.
[361]Sometimes two or three open carriages on a ſide, with five or ſix perſons of both ſexes in each, draw up oppoſite to each other, and fight a pitched battle. On theſe occaſions, the combatants are provided with whole bags full of the ſmall ſhot above-mentioned; which they throw at each other with much apparent fury, till their ammunition is exhauſted, and the field of battle is as white as ſnow.
The peculiar dreſſes of every nation of the globe, and of every profeſſion, beſides all the fantaſtic cha⯑racters, uſual at maſquerades, are to be ſeen on the corſo. Thoſe of harlequin and pantaloon are in great vogue among the men. The citizens wives and daughters generally affect the pomp of women of quality; while their brothers, or other relations, ap⯑pear as train-bearers and attendants. In general they ſeem to delight in characters the moſt remote from their own. Young people aſſume the long beard; tottering ſtep, and other concomitants of old age; the aged chuſe the bib and rattle of childhood; and the women of quality, and women of the town, appear in the characters of country maidens, nuns, and veſtal virgins. All endeavour to ſupport the aſſumed cha⯑racter to the beſt of their ability; but none ſucceed ſo well as thoſe who repreſent children.
[362]Towards the duſk of the evening, the horſe-race takes place. As ſoon as this is announced, the coaches, cabriolets, triumphal cars, and carriages of every kind, are drawn up and line the ſtreet, leaving a ſpace in the middle for the racers to paſs. Theſe are five or ſix horſes trained on purpoſe for this di⯑verſion; they are drawn up a-breaſt in the Piazza del Popolo, exactly where the corſo begins. Certain balls, as at Florence, with little ſharp ſpikes, are hung along their ſides, which ſerve to ſpur them on. As ſoon as they begin to run, theſe animals, by their im⯑patience to be gone, ſhew, that they underſtand what is required of them, and that they take as much plea⯑ſure as the ſpectators in the ſport. A broad piece of canvas, ſpread acroſs the entrance of the ſtreet, pre⯑vents them from ſtarting too ſoon: the dropping that canvas is the ſignal for the race to begin. The horſes fly off together, and, without riders, exert themſelves to the utmoſt; impelled by emulation, the ſhouts of the populace, and the ſpurs above-mentioned. They run the whole length of the corſo; and the proprietor of the victor is rewarded by a certain quantity of fine ſcarlet, or purple cloth, which is always furniſhed by the Jews.
This diverſion, ſuch as it is, ſeems highly enter⯑taining to the Roman populace; though it appears a a mighty fooliſh buſineſs in the eyes of Engliſhmen.
[363]Maſking and horſe-races are confined to the laſt eight days; but there are theatrical entertainments of various kinds, during the whole ſix weeks of the car⯑nival. The ſerious opera is moſt frequented by people of faſhion, who generally take boxes for the whole ſeaſon. The opera, with which this theatre opened, was received with applauſe, though the muſic only was new. The Italians do not always think it ne⯑ceſſary to compoſe new works, for what is called a new opera; they often ſatisfy themſelves with new muſic, to the affecting dramas of Metaſtaſio. The audience, here, ſeem to lend a more profound and continued attention to the muſic, than at Venice. This is probably owing to the entertainment being a greater rarity in the one city, than in the other; for I could perceive, ſays Moore, that people of faſhion, who came every night; began, after the opera had been re⯑peated ſeveral times, to abate in their attention, to re⯑ceive viſitors in their boxes, and to liſten only when ſome favourite airs were ſinging; whereas, the au⯑dience in the pit uniformly preſerved the moſt perfect ſilence; which was only interrupted by gentle mur⯑murs of pleaſure from a few individuals, or an univer⯑ſal burſt of applauſe from the whole aſſembly. The ſenſibility of ſome of the audience gave me an idea of the power of ſounds; which the dullneſs of my own auditory nerves could never have conveyed to my mind. At certain airs, ſilent enjoyment was expreſſed [364] in every countenance; at others, the hands were claſped together, the eyes half ſhut, and the breath drawn in with a prolonged ſigh, as if the ſoul was ex⯑piring in a torrent of delight. One young woman in the pit called out, O dio, dove ſono; che piacer via caccia l'alma? "Oh God, where am I! what plea⯑ſure raviſhes my ſoul?
On the firſt night of the opera, after one of theſe favourite airs, an univerſal ſhout of applauſe took place, intermingled with demands that the compoſer of the muſic ſhould appear. Il maeſtro! il maeſtro! reſounded from every corner of the houſe. He was preſent and led the band of muſic, and was obliged to ſtand on the bench; where he continued bowing to the ſpectators, till they were tired of applauding him. One perſon in the pit, who had diſplayed great ſigns of ſatisfaction from the beginning of the performance, cried out, "He deſerves to be made chief muſician to the virgin, and to lead a choir of angels." This expreſſion would be thought ſtrong in any country, but it has peculiar energy here, where it is a popular opinion, that the Virgin Mary is very fond, and an excellent judge, of muſic. I received this informa⯑tion on Chriſtmas morning, when I was looking at two poor Calabrian pipers, ſays Moore, doing their utmoſt to pleaſe her, and the infant in her arms. They played for a full hour to one of her images which [365] ſtands at the corner of a ſtreet. All the other ſtatues of the virgin, placed in the ſtreets, are ſerenaded in the ſame manner every Chriſtmas morning. On en⯑quiry into the meaning of that ceremony, I was told the above-mentioned circumſtance. My informer was a pilgrim, who ſtood liſtening with great devo⯑tion to the pipers. He told me, at the ſame time, that the virgin's taſte was too refined to have much ſatis⯑faction in the performance of theſe poor Calabrians, which was chiefly intended for the infant; and he deſired me to remark, that the tunes were plain, ſim⯑ple, and ſuch as might naturally be ſuppoſed agreeable to the ear of a child at his time of life.
Though the ſerious opera is in the higheſt eſtima⯑tion, and more regularly attended by people of the firſt faſhion; yet, the opera buffon, or burlettas, are not entirely neglected even by them, and are crowded every night by the middle and lower claſſes. Some admired ſingers have performed theſe during the car⯑nival; and the muſical compoſers have rendered them highly pleaſing to the general taſte.
The prohibition of female performers renders the amuſement, of the Roman theatre, very inſipid to foreigners. The natural ſweetneſs of the female voice is ill ſupplied by the artificial trills of wretched caſtratos; and the awkward agility of robuſt ſinewy [366] fellows, dreſſed in women's clothes, is a moſt deplo⯑rable ſubſtitute for the graceful movements of elegant female dancers. This horrid practice, which is en⯑couraged by their manner of ſupplying the place of female fingers, is a greater outrage on religion and mo⯑rality, than can be produced by the evils which their prohibition is intended to prevent. So far from its being poſſible to believe that purity of ſentiment will be preſerved, by bringing eunuchs on the ſtage, it is more than probable that it has a different effect.
All civil and religious ceremonies, attended with pomp and ſplendor at Rome, are diſtinguiſhed by the appellation of functions, and are no mean ſucceda⯑neum to the ſhows, for which the Roman people had ſuch a rage.
Of all theſe functions, the moſt brilliant is that of the Poſſeſſo, or the Pope's cavalcade, when he goes to take poſſeſſion of the church of St. John Lateran, the moſt ancient of the churches in Rome, and the mother of all the churches in chriſtendom. This ceremony is equivalent to our coronation; and is performed by every Pope, as ſoon as convenience will permit, after the conclave has declared in his favour. From St. John's Lateran, he proceeds to the capitol, and re⯑ceives the keys of that fortreſs. This is the only ce⯑remony in which the Pope appears in all his ſpiritual [367] and temporal grandeur. He is preceded, and fol⯑lowed, by above two thouſand horſemen, divided into ſquadrons; the variety of which makes a very enter⯑taining ſhew. The cardinals, the upper and lower dignitaries, and all the Pope's houſhold, in ceremonial habits, make a part in this cavalcade. The leaſt ſhowy, and at the ſame time the leaſt convenient ac⯑coutrements, are thoſe of the cardinal: their hats, which are quite flat, are faſtened to their head only by ſtrings tied under the chin; their long mantles cover the horſe's whole body, like a capariſon; and the two corners of the cloak being made faſt between his ears, the rider has no means of clearing himſelf in caſe of any accident; which, indeed, is little to be appre⯑hended, ſeveral footmen going on each ſide of the horſe, and watching its ſteps. All the fineſt horſes, from Spain and Sicily, are produced on this occaſion; and their beauty, and graceful ſtatelineſs of motion, add no ſmall addition to the ſpectacle.
We had a full view of the cavalcade, ſays Moore, on its return from the church, as it aſcended the ca⯑pitol. The officers, of the Pope's horſe-guards, were dreſſed in a ſtyle equally rich and becoming. It was ſomething between the Hungarian and Spaniſh dreſs. The Swiſs guards were, on this occaſion, dreſſed with leſs propriety; their uniforms were real coats of mail, with iron helmets on their heads, as if they had been [368] going to take the capitol by ſtorm, and expected a vi⯑gorous reſiſtance. Their appearance was ſtrongly con⯑traſted with that of the Roman barons, who were on horſeback, without boots, and in full dreſs; each of them was preceded by four pages; their hair hanging in ringlets to the middle of their backs: they were followed by a number of ſervants in rich liveries. Biſhops, and other eccleſiaſtics ſucceeded the barons; and then came the cardinals, on horſeback, in their purple robes, which covered every part of the horſes, except the head. There is no doubt but that the horſes, employed at ſuch ceremonies, are the gentleſt that can be found; for, if they were at all unruly, they might not only injure the ſurrounding crowd, but throw their eminences, who are not celebrated for their ſkill in horſemanſhip. Laſt of all comes the Pope himſelf, mounted on a milk-white mule, diſtri⯑buting bleſſings with an unſparing hand among the multitude, who follow him with acclamations of Viva il Santo Padre! i. e. Long live the holy father! and, proſtrating themſelves on the ground before his mule, Benedizione, Santo Padre, i. e. Your bleſſing, holy father. The Pope took particular care to wave his hand in the form of a croſs, that the bleſſings he pro⯑nounced might have the greater efficacy. As his Holineſs is employed in this manner, during the whole proceſſion, he cannot be ſuppoſed to give the leaſt at⯑tention to his mule, the bridle of which is held by two [369] perſons, who walk by his ſide; with ſome others, to catch him, and prevent his being thrown to the ground, in caſe the mule ſhould ſtumble.
At the entrance of the capitol, he was met by the ſenator of Rome; who, falling on his knees, delivered the keys into the hands of his Holineſs, who pro⯑nounced a bleſſing over him, and reſtored them to him again. Proceeding from the capitol, the Pope was met by a deputation of Jews, ſoon after he had paſſed through the arch of Titus. They were headed by the chief Rabbi, who preſented him with a long ſcroll of parchment, on which was written the whole law of Moſes, in Hebrew. His Holineſs received the parch⯑ment in a very gracious manner; telling the Rabbi, at the ſame time, that he accepted his preſent out of re⯑ſpect to the law itſelf, but entirely rejected his inter⯑pretation; for the ancient law, having been fulfilled by the coming of the Meſſiah, was no longer in force. As this was not a convenient time, or place, for the Rabbi to enter into a controverſy on this ſubject, he bowed in ſilence, and retired with his countrymen; in full conviction, that the falſehood of the Pope's aſſer⯑tion, would be made manifeſt to the whole univerſe in due time. His Holineſs, meanwhile, proceeded in triumph, through the principal ſtreets, to the Vatican.
[370]Among the moſt remarkable functions, during the Santa Settimana, are, firſt, the ceremonies of Palm Sunday, which commence in the chapel at Monte Ca⯑vallo, where the Pope bleſſes the palms, and hears maſs. Two ſorts of cardinals are drawn up on each ſide the altar; the cardinal prieſts, and cardinal dea⯑cons; their veſtments violet-colour, ornamented with ermine and lace. Juſt as the function is about to begin, the cardinals take off their furs and outward drapery, and put on veſtments embroidered with gold; they then riſe and approach his Holineſs, from whoſe hands they receive the palms. When maſs is ſung, the paſſion is recited by two eccleſiaſtics; one narrates the words and accuſation of Jeſus Chriſt, from the evangeliſts; and the other anſwers for our bleſſed Saviour; the clamour and uproar of the Jews is imi⯑tated by the clergy. A moſt curious proceſſion makes part of this function: the ſtreets of Rome, through which it is to paſs, are ſtrewed with ſand; and the Pon⯑tiff, accompanied by the cardinal, makes a public entry, in imitation of our Saviour into Jeruſalem, all mounted upon mules, and bearing branches of box-tree in their hands. Vain were the attempt to deſcribe the horſemanſhip upon this occaſion; the obſtinacy of the mules, their kicking and curvetting, and the embarraſſments ariſing from the cardinals garments. A litter, covered with crimſon velvet, is provided for [371] the Pope's uſe, in caſe his Holineſs ſhould come to the ground.
The next principal ceremony is the tenebrae of the holy Wedneſday, performed at five o'clock in the afternoon, in the chapel of St. Paulina, in the Vati⯑can. The tenebrae are chaunted as in other Roman Catholic churches, but executed with more judgment, and better voices. The miſerere d'Allegri, concludes this function, and is performed by vocal muſicians only. I own, ſays Lady Millar, I never heard muſic before. I ſuppoſed I had formed ſome idea of the power and effects of the human voice; but, had I been conveyed blindfold into this chapel, and no in⯑timation given whence the ſounds proceeded, I ſhould ſhould have believed myſelf in Paradiſe. How then ſhall I attempt to convey the ſlighteſt idea of this ce⯑leſtial melody, by any deſcription! I muſt ſay no more than that I have heard enough to make me diſ⯑ſatisfied with the fineſt opera, and the moſt perfect per⯑formers, that are to be found out of the chapel of St. Paulina.
On Maundy Thurſday, the Pope pronounces his benediction to the people, from a balcony in St. Peter's, where an infinite croud is collected on the occaſion. The manner and the form are more ſuitable to the holineſs of his character, ſays Sharp, than I was aware. [372] I underſtood he curſed all Turks and heretics on the face of the earth; whereas, that part of the function is performed by two of the cardinal deacons, who read the curſe, one in Italian, the other in Latin; and the words are no ſooner out of their mouths, than he pro⯑nounces the benediction, and wipes off all its ef⯑ficacy. The Pope is, during this ceremony, ſupported on the ſhoulders of twelve men, in an armed chair, holding in his hand a large lighted wax taper; and, in the very inſtant that the laſt words of the curſe are uttered, the bell tolls, and he throws it down among the people; which circumſtance clearly explains the ſenſe of a proverb well known in England, of ſwearing, or curſing by bell, book and candle. There are three or four exhortations delivered by his Holineſs, pre⯑vious to his reading the benediction; theſe are, that, if the aſſembly would ſincerely repent of their ſins, there was room for abſolution; and the benediction ſeemed to be as little arrogant as that pronounced by our miniſters at the end of the liturgy. In the mo⯑ment that he ſpeaks the benediction, the bell tolls, the drums beat, and the cannon at the caſtle of St. An⯑gelo fire; which adds to the awfulneſs of the ſcene, and renders the performance truly ſolemn.
There is another curious ceremony performed this day; that of the Pope waſhing the pilgrim's feet, as it is expreſſed, and ſerving them at the table. Theſe [373] are thirteen poor prieſts of different nations. The prieſt who ſits in the middle repreſents our Saviour; and the ſix, on each ſide of him, his apoſtles.
On Good-Friday and Eaſter-eve, there are no ex⯑traordinary ceremonies. The common miſerere is chaunted; but, in the evening, the church of St. Peter is crouded with people, who walk about and con⯑verſe. It is remarkable, that Friday and Saturday are not eſteemed ſo ſacred as the foregoing days of the holy week; and that, during the ſaid week, no ſhops are ſhut; but trade and buſineſs go on as uſual.
On Eaſter-day, the ſame function that was per⯑formed on Thurſday is repeated; with this difference, that there is no curſe, only the benediction. The concourſe of people is alſo greater, as the peaſants from the adjacent countries are more at leiſure on Sunday, to come and partake of the bleſſing. As it is a religious ceremony, and the mob make all their religion conſiſt in ceremony, and due ſubmiſſion to the church and the prieſthood; there are no riots here as there would be with us. The moment the cannon at the caſtle of St. Angelo fire, the good people in the neighbourhood, who hear the report, proſtrate them⯑ſelves, and are ſuppoſed to have received the benefit of the benediction. There are both days two ſqua⯑drons [374] of horſe, and a battalion of infantry, which are no ſmall ornament of the feſtival; for, though the troops of his Holineſs might poſſibly make no great figure in a field of battle; they are well cloathed, and add much to the glory of the day, and the beauty of St. Peter's church-yard.
Another very important function, in the church of Rome, is in the Jubilee year. The firſt Jubilee was inſtituted by Boniface the Eighth, in the year 1300. Many ceremonies, and inſtitutions of the Roman Ca⯑tholic church, are founded on thoſe of the old hea⯑thens. This is evidently in imitation of the Roman ſecular games, which were exhibited every hundredth year, in honour of the gods; they laſted three days and three nights; they were attended with great pomp, and drew vaſt numbers of people to Rome, from all parts of Italy, and the moſt diſtant provinces. Boni⯑face recollecting this, determined to inſtitute ſome⯑thing analogous, which would immortalize his own name, and promote the intereſt of the Roman Catholic religion in general, and that of the city of Rome in particular. He embraced the favourable opportunity, which the beginning of a century preſented; he in⯑vented a few extraordinary ceremonies, and declared the year 1300 the firſt Jubilee year; during which, he aſſured mankind that Heaven would be in a particular manner propitious, in granting indulgences and remiſ⯑ſion [375] of ſins, to all who ſhould come to Rome, and at⯑tend the functions there to be performed, at this for⯑tunate period, which was not to occur again for a hun⯑dred years. This drew a great concourſe of wealthy ſinners to Rome; and, the extraordinary circulation of money it occaſioned, was ſtrongly felt all over the Pope's dominions. Clement the Sixth, regretting that theſe advantages ſhould occur ſo ſeldom, abridged the period, and declared there would be a Jubilee every fifty years; the ſecond was, accordingly, celebrated in the year 1350. Sixtus the Fifth, imagining that the interval was ſtill too long, once more retrenched the half; and, ever ſince, there has been a Jubilee every twenty-fifth year. It is not likely that any future Pope will think of ſhortening this period; if any alter⯑ation were again to place, it moſt probably would be, to reſtore the ancient period of fifty, or a hundred years; for, inſtead of the wealthy pilgrims who flocked to Rome, from every quarter of Chriſtendom, ninety-nine in a hundred of thoſe who come now, are ſup⯑ported by alms, during their journey, or are barely able to defray their own expences by the ſtricteſt eco⯑nomy; and his Holineſs is ſuppoſed, at preſent, to de⯑rive no other advantage, from the uncommon fatigue he is obliged to go through on the Jubilee year, ex⯑cept the ſatisfaction he feels in reflecting on the bene⯑fit his labours confer on the ſouls of beggars, and other travellers, who reſort from all corners of Italy to [376] Rome, on this bleſſed occaſion. The ſtates, which border on the Pope's dominions, ſuffer many tempo⯑ral inconveniences from the zeal of the peaſants and manufacturers; the greater part of whom ſtill make a point of viſiting St. Peter's on the Jubilee year; the loſs ſuſtained by the countries, which ſuch emigrants abandon, is not balanced by any advantage transferred to that to which they reſort. By far the greater num⯑ber of pilgrims come from the kingdom of Naples; whoſe inhabitants, are ſaid to be of a very devout and amorous diſpoſition. The firſt prompts them to go to Rome, in ſearch of that abſolution which the ſecond renders neceſſary; and, on the year of the Jubilee, when indulgences are to be had at an eaſier rate than at any other time, thoſe who can afford it, generally carry away ſuch a ſtock, as not only is ſufficient to clear old ſcores, but will alſo ſerve as an indemnifying fund for future tranſgreſſions.
There is one door, into the church of St. Peter's, which is called the holy door. This is always walled up, except on this diſtinguiſhed year; and even then, no perſon is permitted to enter by it, but in the hum⯑bleſt poſture. The pilgrims, and many others, prefer crawling into the church upon their knees, by this door, to walking in, in the uſual way, by any other. The ſhutting up of this door is performed with great ceremony. The Pope being ſeated on a raiſed ſeat, [377] or kind of throne, ſurrounded by cardinals and other eccleſiaſtics; an anthem is ſung, accompanied by all ſorts of muſical inſtruments. During the performance, his Holineſs deſcends from the throne, with a golden trowel in his hand places the firſt brick, and applies ſome mortar; he then returns to his ſeat, and the door is inſtantly built up, by more expert workmen, ſo to remain till the next Jubilee; when it is opened with the ſame ſolemnity that it is ſhut. At the begin⯑ning of the laſt Jubilee, when the wall was thrown down; men, women, and children ſcrambled, and fought for the fragments with the ſame eagerneſs which leſs enlightened mobs diſplay on days of public re⯑joicing, when handfuls of money are thrown among them. The Catholics aſſert, that theſe pieces of brick have the virtue of curing many of the moſt obſtinate diſeaſes: and, if newſpapers were permitted at Rome, there is not the leaſt reaſon to doubt, that theſe cures would be atteſted publicly by the patients, in a manner as ſatisfactory and convincing, as are the cures per⯑formed daily by the pills, powders, drops, and bal⯑ſams, advertiſed in the London newſpapers. After ſhutting the holy door, maſs is celebrated at midnight, and the ceremony attended by vaſt multitudes of people.
For my part, ſays Moore, from whom we have taken the deſcription of this ceremony. I ſuſpended my cu⯑rioſity [378] till next day, which was Chriſtmas-day, when I went to St. Peter's church, and ſaw the Pope per⯑form maſs on this ſolemn occaſion.
After maſs, the Pope gave the benediction to the people aſſembled, in the grand court, before the church of St. Peter. It was a remarkably fine day; an im⯑menſe multitude filled that ſpacious and magnificent area; the horſe and foot guards were drawn up in their moſt ſhowy uniforms. The Pope ſeated in an open, portable chair, in all the ſplendor which his wardrobe could give, with the tiara on his head, was carried out of a large window, which opens on a bal⯑cony in the front of St. Peter's. The ſilk hangings, and gold trappings, with which the chair was embel⯑liſhed, concealed the men who carried it, ſo that to thoſe who viewed him from the area below, his Holi⯑neſs ſeemed to ſail forward from the window, ſelf-ba⯑lanced in the air like a celeſtial being. The inſtant he appeared, the muſic ſtruck up, the bells rang from every church, and the cannon thundered from the caſtle of St. Angelo, in repeated peals. During the intervals, the church of St. Peter's, the palace of the Vatican, and the banks of the Tibur, re-echoed the acclamations of the populace. At length, his Holi⯑neſs aroſe from his ſeat, and an immediate and awful ſilence enſued. The multitude fell upon their knees, with their hands and eyes raiſed towards his Holineſs, [379] as to a benign deity. After a ſolemn pauſe, he pro⯑nounced the benediction, with great fervour, elevating his out-ſtretched arms as high as he could; then cloſing them together, and bringing them back to his breaſt, with a ſlow motion, as if he had got hold of the bleſ⯑ſing, and was drawing it gently from Heaven. Finally, he threw his arms open, waving them for ſome time, as if his intention had been to ſcatter the benediction, with impartiality, among the people.
No ceremony can be better calculated for ſtriking the ſenſes, and impoſing on the underſtanding, than this of the ſupreme Pontiff, giving the bleſſing from the balcony of St. Peter's. For my own part, ſays Moore, (and other writers have made ſimilar remarks) had I not, in my early youth, received impreſſions highly unfavourable to the chief actor in this magni⯑ficent interlude; I ſhould have been in danger of paying him a degree of reſpect, very inconſiſtent with the religion in which I was educated.
CHAP. IX. People, their Character, Cuſtoms, and Manners.
[380]THE condition of all the citizens of Rome is as ſingular as the conſtitution under which they live; and, it is in this particular, that modern Rome is moſt like the ancient city. In its moſt happy times, that is to the year 650, from the foundation, accord⯑ing to Cicero, there were ſcarce two thouſand houſe⯑keepers who had any property; "qui rem haberent." And it is much to be feared, whether as many could be found among the hundred and fifty, or two hun⯑dred thouſand inhabitants, which modern Rome is ſuppoſed to contain.
The great officers of ſtate, and eight or ten ancient families, but eclipſed by four or five, whom the triple crown has enriched and promoted; theſe, together, with foreigners, ſupply the public luxury; but, in this luxury, alms bear a conſiderable part. We have ſeen the richeſt Roman prince, not ſpending above [381] one ſhilling per day on his table, and the furniture of his houſe ſuitable to ſuch parſimony, yet diſtributing thouſands of pounds in alms of various kinds. This ſuperabundance of charity, which is to ſloth, as honey to hornets, correſponds with the congiaria of the Ro⯑man emperors, and is productive of the ſame effect.
The middle ſtate, every where elſe formed by citi⯑zens and trades-people, is unknown at Rome. There is no medium between opulence and poverty. The rich are the richeſt of men, and the poor, the moſt in⯑digent creatures in the world; an exceſs never known in a well-governed ſtate. Extremities touch each other; every member of the ſtate either gives, or re⯑ceives alms. No ſmall part of the wages, of the nu⯑merous retinue of the cardinals and nobles, conſiſts in alms, under the ſoftening appellation of of buon mancie; "good feſtivals:" far agoſto: "welcomes," or "good journies." The eldeſt of every family, under the re⯑ſpectable title of decano, is, in this reſpect, the ſolicitor, receiver, and caſh-keeper to his fellow-ſervants. In ſhort, it is a ſaying among the Romans themſelves, that there is not a burgeſs of Rome, but would ſell the very ſun for a ſixpence.
Perſons of eaſy circumſtances are not to be met with, among the lower dignitaries of the church; nor among the ſet of lawyers called curiales; nor among [382] thoſe marquiſſes and counts, who, with the title of Maeſtri di camera and Scudieri, are as profoundly verſed in all matters of ceremony, as the Germans in civil law; nor, in ſhort, among the placemen belong⯑ing to the different officers of the court; all theſe live more on hope than ſubſtance. The demiſe of a Pope, and the vacancy occaſioned thereby, reduces them to alms. The only claſs of people, whoſe competence puts them on a footing with the other ranks, are the conſiſtorial counſellors. A fondneſs for ornament, and parade, is the hobby-horſe of the Roman people, to this all other inclinations give way: it regulates and directs the expences of the rich and great; what they ſave in good cheer, and on comfortable living, they laviſh on entertainments, equipages, liveries, and external ſhow. Equally ambitious of this are the peo⯑ple, amid all their penury: the ſhambles, the butchers, and their ſtalls, are all ſet off with linen as white as ſnow: the fruiterers ſhops are diſperſed in curious deſigns, as if for a fight: the ſhoemaker, and even the cobler, decorates his ſhop with ſcraps of gilded leather. When ſome public feſtival approaches, a whole family ſhall, for a day or two in a week, abate of their uſual ſuſ⯑tenance, to furniſh coach-hire on theſe occaſions. This paſſion for glitter and parade opens the door to intrigues. It is found with the loweſt poverty. All thoſe of the lower claſs, decked out ſo very fine at the public places, have ſcarce a gown to their backs when [383] at home; one ſhift is their whole ſtock, which good houſewifery will not allow them to lie in, and which every Saturday, after going through a ſlop-waſh, is diſplayed at the windows till perfectly dry.
Magnificence, hypocriſy, and ſadneſs reign here: the number of fine palaces, of beautiful churches, of ſuperb fountains, of the treaſures of art, and vene⯑rable remains of antiquity give an air of grandeur to Rome, which is not to be found in any other country.
The want of public entertainments, the little popu⯑lation, in proportion to the extent of the city; and its ſituation, ſurrounded by hills, which prevent a free circulation of air, added to the oppreſſive weight of the plumbeus auſter of Horace; the Scirocco wind, ſeem to me the chief cauſes of its real ſadneſs; but what in⯑creaſes this apparent gloom, is the air of ſanctity which the Romans affect, and the general dreſs of the country, which is black. The habit of an Abbé is the court-dreſs; and, as it is alſo the cheapeſt, every one wears it. Every court is the abode of diſſimula⯑tion; at Rome, there are as many courts as cardinals; every cardinal is a kind of prince, and may become a ſovereign; this reaſon alone is ſufficient to ſhew, that this country muſt have more hypocritical characters than any other.
[384]Of all the ſovereigns whom I have ſeen, ſays Sher⯑lock, the Pope repreſents majeſty the beſt; the car⯑dinals are like Martial's epigrams; ſome good, ſome bad, but many more indifferent. Almoſt all derive honour from their rank.
The women are reſerved in public; and in private, extravagant to a degree; the prelates effeminate; the nobility, with ſome few exceptions, illiterate; and the people, wicked.
The ſtudies, generally purſued, are, the law, anti⯑quities, and divinity; becauſe theſe are the three principal roads that here lead to fortune. A poet is conſidered as a dangerous, or at beſt, as an uſeleſs being; and, for this reaſon, a poetic talent is rather oppreſſed than encouraged. Metaſtaſio could not there find bread.
We ſee here frequent occaſion to admire the genius of Corneille, for the truth with which he has drawn the Roman women. The aſſurance of their eye, the firm⯑neſs of their ſtep, every feature of their face, and every movement of their body, declare the boldneſs of their ſouls. They have a very noble air, which is heightened by trailing robes, and which they all wear, down to the women of the third degree.
[385]The nation, adds Sherlock, has ſomething like pride, which is not diſpleaſing to me; it is that ſort of haugh⯑tineſs we ſee in a man of ancient family fallen to decay. But it has a deſire of diſguiſing itſelf, which pleaſes no one. The firſt proverb of the country is, he who knows not how ta diſſemble, knows not how to live; and they all know how to live. They love obſcurity in every thing.
The Roman has naturally a depth of underſtanding and ſtrength of character; he is eaſily moved; and, when he is moved, he is violent to an exceſs. If the dreſs of the country were military, we ſhould think ourſelves, as we walk the ſtreets, in ancient Rome; the faces we meet, ſo much reſemble the characters that hiſtory has tranſmitted to us. This idea has often ſtruck me among the men; and it is ſtill more ſtriking in the women. You will often ſay, "There is a woman who might well be the mother of Gracchus, and there is another who might produce a Sylla!" The number of Meſſalinas is ſmall, that of Lucretias leſs; and for Sempronias, Qui ſoepius petunt viros quam petuntur, i. e. "Who oftener ſeek for gallants, than gallants for them;" they are to be found rather at Naples than at Rome.
The following, ſays Sherlock, is a mark of national diſtinction, between a Roman and a Neapolitan woman; [386] a woman of Naples is leſs modeſt than one of Rome, and more baſhful; Neapolitan women have been often ſeen to bluſh, but it is not poſſible to put a Roman woman out of countenance.
In their external deportment, the Italians, remarks Moore, have a grave ſolemnity of manner, which is ſometimes thought to ariſe from a natural gloom of diſpoſition. The French, above all other nations, are apt to impute to melancholy, the ſedate, ſerious air which accompanies reflection.
Though in a pulpit, on the theatre, and even in common converſation, the Italians make uſe of a great deal of action; yet, Italian vivacity is different from the French; the former proceeds from ſenſibility, the latter from animal ſpirits.
The inhabitants of this country have not the briſk look, and elaſtic trip, which is univerſal in France; they move rather with a flow, compoſed pace; and the people of the moſt finiſhed faſhion, as well as the neglected vulgar, ſeem to prefer the unconſtrained at⯑titude of the Antinous, and other antique ſtatues, to the artificial graces of a French dancing-maſter, or the erect ſtrut of a German ſoldier.
[387]Of all the countries in Europe, Switzerland is that in which the beauties of nature appear in the greateſt variety of forms, and on the moſt magnificent ſcale; in that country, therefore, the young landſcape pain⯑ter has the beſt chance of ſeizing the moſt ſublime ideas; but, Italy is the beſt ſchool for the hiſtoric one, not only from its being enriched with works of the greateſt maſters, and the nobleſt models of antique ſculpture; but alſo, on account of the fine expreſſive ſtile of the Italian countenance. Here are few, or none, of thoſe fair, flat, gliſtening, unmeaning faces, ſo common in the more northern parts of Europe. I happened, ſays Moore, once, to ſit by a foreigner of my acquaintance, at the opera in London, when a certain nobleman, who was then a good deal talked of, entered. I whiſpered him—"This is Lord —." "Not, ſurely, the famous Lord —," ſaid he. "Yes," ſaid I, "the very ſame." "It muſt then be acknow⯑led," continued he, "that the noble earl does infinite honour to thoſe who had the care of his education." "How ſo?" rejoined I; "Becauſe," replied the foreigner, "as a countenance, ſo completely vacant, ſtrongly indicates a deficience of natural abilities; it is to be preſumed, the reſpectable figure he makes in the ſenate, is entirely owing to inſtruction."
Strangers, on their arrival at Rome, form no high idea of the beauty of the Roman women, from the ſpe⯑cimens [388] they ſee in the faſhionable circles, to which they are firſt introduced. There are ſome excep⯑tions; but, in general, it muſt be acknowledged, that the preſent race of women, of high rank, are more diſ⯑tinguiſhed by other ornaments, than their beauty. For brilliant red and white, and all the charms of complexion, no women can equal the Engliſh. If a hundred Engliſh women were taken at random, and compared with the ſame number at Rome; ninety of the Engliſh would be found handſomer than ninety of the Romans; but, probably, two or three in the hun⯑dred Italians, might have finer countenances than any of the Engliſh. Beauty, in England, is more remark⯑able in the country, than in towns; the peaſantry of no country in Europe can ſtand a competition, in point of looks, with thoſe of England. This race of people have the conveniences of life, in no other country, in ſuch perfection; they are no where ſo well fed, ſo well defended from the injuries of the ſeaſons; and, no where elſe do they keep themſelves ſo perfectly clean, and free, from all vilifying effects of dirt. In other countries, the female peaſants are ſo hard worked, ſo ill ſed, ſo tanned, and ſo dirty, that it is difficult to know whether they have any beauty or not.
With countenances ſo favourable for the pencil, it will naturally be imagined, that portrait-painting is in [389] the higheſt perfection in Rome. The reverſe, how⯑ever, of this, is true; that branch of the art is in the loweſt eſtimation all over Italy. In palaces, the beſt furniſhed with pictures, a portrait is ſeldom ſeen of the proprietor, or of any of his family. A quarter-length of the reigning Pope is, ſometimes, the only portrait of a living perſon, to be ſeen in the whole palace. Several of the Roman princes affect to have a room of ſtate, or audience-chamber, in which is a raiſed ſeat, like a throne, with a canopy over it. In thoſe rooms, the effigies of the pontiffs are hung; they are the works of very inferior artiſts, and ſeldom coſt above three or four ſequins. As ſoon as his Holineſs departs this life, the portrait diſappears; and the face of his ſucceſſor is, in due time, hung up in its ſtead. This, it may be ſaid, is treating their old ſovereign rather unkindly, and paying no very expenſive com⯑pliment to the new; it is not ſo economical, however, as what was practiſed by a certain perſon in another country. He had a full-length picture of his ſovereign, in the principal room of his houſe; on his Majeſty's death, to ſave himſelf the expence of a freſh body, and a new ſuit of ermine, he employed a painter to bruſh out the face and perriwig, and clap the new king's head on his grandfather's ſhoulders; which he declared were in the utmoſt preſervation, and fully able to wear out three or four ſuch heads, as painters uſually give in theſe degenerate days.
[390]The Italians very ſeldom take the trouble of ſitting for their pictures. They conſider a portrait as a piece of painting, which engages the admiration of no one but the perſon it repreſents, or the painter who drew it. Thoſe who are in circumſtances to pay the beſt artiſts, generally employ them in ſubjects more uni⯑verſally intereſting, than the repreſentation of human countenances, ſtaring out of a piece of canvas.
The ſummers, at Rome, are very tedious, every one keeping cloſe at home the whole day, and taking their naps at Rome; ſo that, it is a common ſaying there, "That none but dogs, ideots, and Frenchmen, walk the ſtreets in the day-time." The heat of the climate makes the Romans paſſionately fond of ſpring water, iced and cooling liquors; and great quantities of ſnow and ice, brought from the mountains, and preſerved in ice-houſes, are conſumed there.
In regard to the unwholeſomeneſs of the air, the dog-days, and ſome weeks after, are moſtly dreaded at Rome. The precautions taken by the Romans, for the preſervation of health during theſe heats, would not be thought of by a foreigner. One of their good rules is expreſſed in this ſentence: "In June, July, and Auguſt, a perſon muſt have no commerce with the ladies.
[391]But, poſſibly, this rule is but little obſerved. It is farther affirmed that a perſon, uſed to live at Rome, cannot, without manifeſt danger, keep within fifteen or twenty miles of that city. And, in travelling to Rome, they take care, in the laſt day's journey, not to put up within that diſtance. Even within the city they ſeldom change their bedchamber, though it be for another in the ſame houſe. Removals from one houſe to another, between St. Peter's and All Saints days, are ſuppoſed to be ſo dangerous at Rome, that a tenant, or lodger, cannot be compelled to leave a houſe within that term. As mutual compliments paſs between friends, in other places, at the beginning of the new year, the like civility is paid here, at the beginning of the month of Auguſt. At this time of the year, few people go abroad in the day time; but, after ſun-ſet, divert themſelves with taking the air on foot, or in coaches; and the firſt of Auguſt is a great day, in Rome, for feaſting and friendly entertainments.
In England, obſerves Keyſler, ſuicides are moſt fre⯑quent in the beginning, or toward the cloſe of winter, when the Eaſterly winds moſt prevail. But, in Rome, the greateſt enormities are perpetrated in the two hot⯑teſt ſummer months. This is imputed to the blood's being over-heated at this ſeaſon; however, the exer⯑tion of proper ſeverity, and the abolition of aſylums in churches, would ſoon cool this pretended ardour, [392] that prompts the Romans to all manner of wicked⯑neſs.
That London ſhould be more ſubject to fevers, and fluxes, when the North-eaſt wind blows, proceeds from the noxious effluvia, which that wind brings from the fens and marſhes of Cambridgeſhire, Lincolnſhire, and Eſſex. In Rome, the moſt ſickly ſeaſons are, when the South, or South-eaſt wind blows, which the Italians call Sirocco, from the Arabic word Haloque; its courſe being over the boggy uncultivated coaſts of Africa, and the moraſſes that lie South of Rome.
After all, the Romans make too much ado about the danger of their ſummer heats; foreigners, who uſe very little precaution in this reſpect, enjoy as good a ſtate of health as the natives. How many cardinals come from other countries to Rome, in ſummer, when a conclave is to be held, without ſo many timorous fears, and return as well as they came? But no one will pretend to ſay, that heat has a reſpect to perſons. This chimerical danger, ſeems to have been unknown in the time of Cicero; from whoſe epiſtles it appears, that he frequently reſided at Rome, during the ſummer months, and took many journies to, and from Rome, at that ſeaſon of the year.
[393]There are few countries, where a true judgment is ſo formed of ſtrangers, as at Rome, gens emunctae naris, natura cui verba non potuit dare, ſays a famous Jeſuit of the modern Romans. That is, they are people of an acute diſcernment, to whom nature has not given the power of unfolding their thoughts. Their cuſtom of ſtudying one another, produces this habit of ſagacity; this is the polar ſtar, by which they ſteer their beha⯑viour toward thoſe with whom they have any inter⯑courſe. They cannot be long impoſed upon, either by a dull or promiſing phyſiognomy: to them, this is no more than the perſona tragica, the maſk to the fox. An appearance of frankneſs, an air of gaiety, entirely unhinges them; and puzzles them the more, as being leſs allied to that gravity, in which they muffle them⯑ſelves up, that others may not ſee into them.
This gravity never leaves them in public, nor even in the parties of pleaſure, which ſeem contrived to ſhake it off. In private, however, they make them⯑ſelves amends. Nothing can be more chearful than their clubs; where a ſelect party freely give themſelves up to that tranquil gaiety, ſuited to the natural ſeriouſ⯑neſs of their character, and in which conſiſted the ur⯑banitas of the ancient Romans. There one may laugh, even at perſons who form part of the company; there the ſpropoſiti of a foreigner, eſteemed ſo far as to be [394] admitted among them, and who is never reproved in public, for not ſpeaking the language correct, are made matters of merriment; there they laugh more, and more heartily, than in any other place; and circulate a num⯑ber of tales, of which they have an inexorable fund; and ſuch excellent relaters are the Romans, that their manner always gives an air of novelty to their ſtory. Let the following ſerve as a ſpecimen.
In the engagement between the devil and St. Michael the archangel, finding his ſpear was rather an incum⯑brance than of any uſe to him, darted up again to Heaven; and catching up a thunder-bolt, hurled it headlong at Lucifer, ſo that his body flew about in pieces: his legs fell in France; and hence the petulance of the French, and their paſſion for rambling: Lucifer's head went into Spain; and to this is owing the pride, ſtiffneſs, and overbearing carriage of the Spaniards: the hand, with which the fiend uſed to pilfer, Naples got; and that, with which he ſqueezed people, was Genoa's portion: his ſtomach was picked up in Germany; and the leaſt honourable parts of his body alighted in Rome; and this, adds the Romans, has made all of us ſuch whore-maſters as we are.
The Italians have retained thoſe words, which other nations have caſhiered; as politeneſs and good man⯑ners [395] began to prevail among them. The objects, ex⯑preſſed by theſe words, are an ample field for the con⯑vivial muſes. In ſhort, Italy ſwarms both with obſcene and devout ſonnets. They are, from their infancy, ac⯑cuſtomed to nudities, as were the Greeks and Romans. Their ears are as little moved with the expreſſion, as their eyes with the repreſentation of objects; the in⯑decency of which has been leſſened by habit. It was from a deep-rooted cuſtom, that after Benedict IV. was exalted to the Pontificate, one of the moſt obſcene words in the Italian language, equally eſcaped him, both in his anger and mirth; that is, it was almoſt always on his tongue. This word, and its counter⯑part, are the moſt common oaths, or rather interjec⯑tions, among the Romans. Per dio (by God) is ſel⯑dom or ever heard, on account of the penalties pro⯑nounced againſt perſons guilty of blaſphemy; but, per dio Bacco, is in every one's mouth.
The merriment of private clubs never ſhews it⯑ſelf in public, but during the carnival; in no part of Italy, is that feſtival carried to ſuch a pitch of extra⯑vagance and folly, as at Rome; it is a perfect tran⯑ſcript of the ancient ſaturnalia, in all its mad frolics.
Breach of chaſtity, in females of low rank, is not conſidered here in the ſame heinous light, as in ſome [396] parts of Germany and Great Britain; where it is deemed a crime of ſuch magnitude, as to require ex⯑piation, by a public rebuke from the officiating mi⯑niſter, in the middle of the church. In theſe coun⯑tries, thoſe who live in an open and avowed breach of chaſtity, are generally more daringly wicked and de⯑void of principle, than the Italian women, who take the ſame liberties. In Italy, ſays Moore, women, who never put any value on the virtue of chaſtity, thoſe who ſell their favours for money, diſplay a goodneſs of character in other reſpects, and continue their duty and attachment to their parents, as long as they live. Foreigners, who form a connection with a girl in this country, find themſelves very often obliged to maintain the father, mother, and whole family to which ſhe belongs. The lover generally conſiders this as a very troubleſome circumſtance; and, endea⯑vours to inſpire his Italian miſtreſs with that total neglect of her family, which prevails among women of her ſtamp in other countries; but he very ſeldom ſucceeds. An Italian woman is unwilling to quit her native city, and her family, even for a man ſhe loves; and ſeldom does, till he makes ſome proviſion for her neareſt relations. They attend maſs, and the cere⯑monies of devotion, with as much punctuality as if their lives were regular in all other reſpects.
[397]Of their attending to the external functions of their religion, with ſcrupulous exactneſs, the above writer cites a remarkable trait in an Italian woman of faſhion, who refuſed to have any farther connexion with her ciciſbeo, or lover, becauſe her confeſſor had refuſed her abſolution. This lady was diſtinguiſhed at Rome, for a punctilious obſervance of all the ceremonies ap⯑pointed by the church; ſhe could not eat meat on a meagre day, or deviate from the canonical regulation, in any point of equal importance, without remorſe; but, in matters of gallantry, ſhe had the reputation of being infinitely more liberal, both in her ſentiments and practice. She had been, for ſome time, provided with a very able and reſpectable lover, of her own country. This did not make her blind to the quali⯑ties of a young Engliſhman, with whom ſhe formed a very intimate connection, ſoon after his arrival at Rome; not that ſhe preferred him to her laſt lover, but, merely from a ſtrong ſenſe of the truth and beauty of this arithmetical axiom, that one and one make two. The new arrangement with our countryman, however pleaſing to the lady, gave offence to her father con⯑feſſor. The ſcrupulous eccleſiaſtic was of opinion, that a connection of this nature, with a heretic, was more criminal, than with a man of her own commu⯑nion. The Engliſhman entered her apartments one day as the confeſſor went out; ſhe ſhut the door after [398] him, with a violence that ſhook the whole houſe, mut⯑tering, as ſhe returned to her ſeat, "The devil go along with you for an old gooſe." Her lover ex⯑preſſed his concern on ſeeing her ſo much agitated. "No wonder," ſaid ſhe, "that ſtubborn animalaccio, who has juſt gone out, has had the inſolence to refuſe me abſolution. As I expected you this morning, I ſent for him betimes, that the matter might have been expedited before you ſhould come; but here have I been above an hour, endeavouring to perſuade him, but all to no purpoſe; nothing I could ſay, was able to mollify the obſtinate old greaſy ſcoundrel." The Engliſhman joined in abuſing the confeſſor's perverſe⯑neſs; hinting, at the ſame time, ſhe ought to deſpiſe it as a matter of no importance; that ſhe was ſure of receiving abſolution ſooner or later; and that, when⯑ever it happened, all the tranſactions of the internal, would be comprehended in that one act of grace. Upon the ſtrength of this reaſoning, he was proceed⯑ing to fulfil the purpoſe of his viſit, with as much ala⯑crity, as if the moſt complete diſcharge had been granted for all paſt proceedings—Pian Piano idol mio, "ſoftly, ſoftly, my love," cried the lady, biſogna ri⯑metterſi alla voluntà di dio. "We muſt ſubmit to the will of Heaven." She then told her lover, that, al⯑though ſhe deſpiſed the confeſſor as much as he could do, yet ſhe muſt take care of her ſoul; that, not hav⯑ing [399] ſettled her accounts with Heaven for a long time, ſhe was determined not to begin a new ſcore till the old was cleared off; adding, for her principal reaſon, Patto chiaro, amico caro. "Short accounts make long friends."