Spoletto.
We left Loretto after dinner, and proceeded through a beautiful country
to Macerata, a small town, situated on a hill, as the towns in Italy
generally are. We only stayed to change horses, and continued our journey
to Tolentino; where, not thinking it expedient to begin to ascend the
Apennines in the dark, we took up our quarters at an inn, the best in the
place, but, by many degrees, the poorest we had seen in Italy. However,
as it was not for good eating or convenient bedchambers we came to this
country, that circumstance affected us very little. Indeed, the quantity
of victuals presented us at supper, would have been as displeasing to a
person of Sancho Pancho’s way of thinking, on the subject of eating, as
the manner they were dressed would have been to a nicer sensualist in
that refined science. The latter circumstance prevented our regretting
the former; and although we had felt some uneasiness when we were told
how little provisions there were in the house, the moment they appeared
on the table we were all convinced there was more than enough.
The poor people of this inn, however, shewed the utmost desire to please.
_They_ must have unfortunate tempers indeed, who, observing this, could
have shocked them by fretfulness, or an air of dissatisfaction. Besides,
if the entertainment had been still more homely, even those travellers
who are accustomed to the greatest delicacies, might be induced to bear
it with patience for one night, from this consideration, That the people
of the place, who have just as good a natural right to the luxuries of
life as themselves, are obliged to bear it always. Nothing is more apt to
raise indignation than to behold men repining and fretting, on account
of little inconveniencies, in the hearing of those who are bearing much
greater every day with cheerfulness. There is a want of sense, as well
as a want of temper, in such behaviour. The only use of complaining of
hardships to those who cannot relieve them, must be to obtain sympathy;
but if those to whom they complain, are suffering the same hardships in a
greater degree, what sympathy can those repiners expect? They certainly
find none.
Next morning we encountered the Apennines. The fatigue of this day’s
journey was compensated by the beauty and variety of the views among
those mountains. On the face of one of the highest, I remarked a small
hut, with a garden near it. I was told this was inhabited by an old
infirm Hermit. I could not understand how a person in that condition
could scramble up and down such a mountain to procure for himself the
necessaries of life. I was informed, he had not quitted his hermitage
for several years, the neighbouring peasants supplying him plentifully
with all he requires. This man’s reputation for sanctity is very great,
and those who take the trouble of carrying him provisions, think
themselves well repaid by his prayers.
I imagine I am acquainted with a country where provisions are in greater
plenty than in the Apennines; and yet the greatest saint in the nation,
who should take up his residence on one of its mountains, would be in
great danger of starving, if he depended for his sustenance upon the
provisions that should be carried up to him in exchange for his prayers.
There are mountains and precipices among the Apennines, which do not
appear contemptible in the eyes even of those who have travelled among
the Alps; while on the other hand, those delightful plains, contained
within the bosom of the former, are infinitely superior, in beauty and
fertility, to the vallies among the latter. We now entered the rich
province of Umbria, and soon after arrived at Foligno, a thriving town,
in which there is more appearance of industry than in any of the towns
we have seen, since we left Ancona; there are considerable manufactures
of paper, cloth, and silk. In a convent of Nuns, is a famous picture
by Raphael, generally visited by travellers, and much admired by
connoisseurs.
The situation of this town is peculiarly happy. It stands in a charming
valley, laid out in corn-fields and vineyards, interfered by mulberry and
almond trees, and watered by the river Clitumnus; the view terminating on
one side by hills crowned with cities, and on the other by the loftiest
mountains of the Apennines. I never experienced such a sudden and
agreeable change of climate, as on descending from those mountains, in
many places, at present, covered with snow; to this pleasant valley of
Umbria,
Where western gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride.
From Foligno to Vene, the road lies through this fine plain. A little
before you come to the post-house at Vene, on the right hand, there
is a little building; the front which looks to the valley, is adorned
with six Corinthian pillars; the two in the middle enriched by a laurel
foliage: on one side, is a crucifix in basso relievo, with vine branches
curling around it. On this building, there are some inscriptions which
mention the _resurrection_. Some, who think the architecture too fine
for the first ages of Christianity, and the Temple too old to have been
built since the revival of that art, have conjectured, that this little
edifice is antique, and originally erected by the ancient inhabitants of
Umbria, as a temple, in honour of the river God Clitumnus; but, at some
subsequent period, converted into a Christian chapel, and the crucifix
and inscriptions added after its consecration. Other very respectable
judges think, the style of architecture is by no means pure, but
adulterated by meretricious ornament, and worthy enough of the first ages
of Christianity.
Mr. Addison has given many quotations from the Latin poets, in honour
of this river, all of which countenance the popular opinion with regard
to the quality of the water. The breed of white cattle, which gave such
a reputation to the river, still remains in this country. We saw many
of them as we passed, some milk white, but the greatest numbers of a
whitish grey. The common people still retain the ancient opinion, with
respect to the effect of the water. Spoletto, the capital of Umbria, is
situated on a high rock, the ascent to which is very steep on all sides.
This town retains little appearance of its ancient importance. Keysler
says, that, like other paltry towns in Italy, it exhibits bombastic
inscriptions concerning its antiquity, and many trivial occurrences which
have happened there; the only inscription, however, which he quotes, and
the only one which I saw, is that over the Porta di Fuga, from which the
Carthaginian army is supposed to have been repaired.
ANNIBAL
CÆSIS AD THRASYMENUM ROMANIS
URBEM ROMAM INFENSO AGMINE PETENS,
SPOLETO MAGNA SUORUM CLADE REPULSUS,
INSIGNI FUGA PORTÆ NOMEN FECIT.
I cannot perceive any thing bombastic in this; Livy mentions the fact in
his twenty-second book, in the following terms:
Annibal recto itinere per Umbriam usque ad Spoletum venit, inde
quum perpopulato agro urbem oppugnare adortus esset, cum magna
cæde suorum repulsus, conjectans ex unius coloniæ haud nimis
prospere tentatæ viribus quanta moles Romanæ urbis esset.
If the inhabitants of the greatest capital in the world had equal
authority for their ancestors having repulsed such a general as Hannibal,
would they not be inclined to receive it as truth, and to transmit it to
the latest posterity?
This town is still supplied with water, by means of an antique aqueduct,
one of the most entire, and the highest in Europe. In the centre, where
the height is greatest, there is a double arcade; the other arches
diminish in height, as they recede from it, towards the sloping sides of
the two mountains which this magnificent work unites.
In the cathedral, there is a picture of the Virgin by St. Luke; but we
had already seen sufficient specimens of this saint’s abilities, as a
sculptor and a painter, and we had not the least curiosity to see any
more.